CHAPTER XLIV.

PEACE.

THE WAR GOVERNORS--CIVILIAN PATRIOTS--THE SUDDEN FALL OF THE CONFEDERACY--CAPTURE OF MR. DAVIS--CHARACTER OF THE INSURRECTION--MAGNANIMITY OF THE VICTORS--THE ASSASSINATION CONSPIRACY--LINCOLN'S SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS--LINCOLN IN RICHMOND--THE GRAND REVIEW--THE HOME-COMING--LESSONS OF THE WAR.

No account of the war, however brief, can properly be closed without some mention of the forces other than military that contributed to its success. The assistance and influence of the "war governors," as they were called--including John A. Andrew of Massachusetts, William A. Buckingham of Connecticut, Edwin D. Morgan of New York, William Dennison of Ohio, and Oliver P. Morton of Indiana--was vital to the cause, and was acknowledged as generously as it was given. There was also a class of citizens who, by reason of age or other disability, did not go to the front, and would not have been permitted to, but found a way to assist the Government perhaps even more efficiently. They were thoughtful and scholarly men, who brought out and placed at the service of their country every lesson that could be drawn from history; practical and experienced men, whose hard sense and knowledge of affairs made them natural leaders in the councils of the people; men of fervid eloquence, whose arguments and appeals aroused all there was of latent patriotism in their younger and hardier countrymen, and contributed wonderfully to the rapidity with which quotas were filled and regiments forwarded to the seat of war. There were great numbers of devoted women, who performed uncomplainingly the hardest hospital service, and managed great fairs and relief societies with an enthusiasm that never wearied. And there were the Sanitary and Christian Commissions, whose agents went everywhere between the dépôt in the rear and the skirmish-line in front, carrying not only whatever was needed to alleviate the sufferings of the sick and wounded, but also many things to beguile the tedious hours in camp and diminish the serious evil of homesickness.

It was a common remark, at the time, that the Confederacy crumbled more suddenly in 1865 than it had risen in 1861. It seemed like an empty shell, which, when fairly broken through, had no more stability, and instantly fell to ruins. It was fortunate that when the end came Lee's army was the first to surrender, since all the other commanders felt justified in following his example. To some on the Confederate side, especially in Virginia, the surrender was a surprise, and came like a personal and irreparable grief. But people in other parts of the South, especially those who had seen Sherman's legions marching by their doors, knew that the end was coming. Longstreet had pronounced the cause lost by Lee's want of generalship at Gettysburg; Ewell had said there was no use in fighting longer when Grant had swung his army across the James; Johnston and his lieutenants declared it wrong to keep up the hopeless struggle after the capital had been abandoned and the Army of Northern Virginia had laid down its weapons, and so expressed themselves to Mr. Davis when he stopped to confer with them, in North Carolina, on his flight southward. He said their fortunes might still be retrieved, and independence established, if those who were absent from the armies without leave would but return to their places. He probably understood the situation as well as General Johnston did, and may have spoken not so much from judgment as from a consciousness of greater responsibility, a feeling that as he was the first citizen of the Confederacy he was the last that had any right to despair of it.

Nevertheless, he continued his flight through the Carolinas into Georgia; his cabinet officers, most of whom had set out with him from Richmond, leaving him one after another. When he had arrived at Irwinsville, Ga., accompanied by his family and Postmaster-General Reagan, their little encampment in the woods was surprised, on the morning of May 11th, by two detachments of Wilson's cavalry, and they were all taken prisoners. In the gray of the morning the two detachments, approaching from different sides, fired into each other before they discovered that they were friends, and two soldiers were killed and several wounded. Mr. Davis was taken to Savannah, and thence to Fort Monroe, where he was a prisoner for two years, after which he was released on bail--his bondsmen being Cornelius Vanderbilt, Horace Greeley, and Gerrit Smith, a life-long abolitionist. He was never tried.

The secession movement had been proved to be a rebellion and nothing else--although the mightiest of all rebellions. It never rose to the character of a revolution; for it never had possession of the capital or the public archives, never stopped the wheels of the Government for a single day, was suppressed in the end, and attained none of its objects. But although it was clearly a rebellion, and although its armed struggle had been maintained after all prospect of success had disappeared, such was the magnanimity of the National Government and the Northern people that its leaders escaped the usual fate of rebels. Except by temporary political disabilities, not one of them was punished--neither Mr. Davis nor Mr. Stephens, nor any member of the Confederate cabinet or congress; neither Lee nor Johnston, nor any of their lieutenants, not even Beauregard who advocated the black flag, nor Forrest who massacred his prisoners at Fort Pillow. Most of the officers of high rank in the Confederate army were graduates of the Military Academy at West Point, and had used their military education in an attempt to destroy the very government that gave it to them, and to which they had solemnly sworn allegiance. Some of them, notably General Lee, had rushed into the rebel service without waiting for the United States War Department to accept their resignations. But all such ugly facts were suppressed or forgotten, in the extreme anxiety of the victors lest they should not be sufficiently magnanimous toward the vanquished. There was but a single act of capital punishment. The keeper of the Andersonville stockade was tried, convicted, and executed for cruelty to prisoners. His more guilty superior, General Winder, died two months before the surrender. Two months after that event, the secessionist that had sought the privilege of firing the first gun at the flag of his country, committed suicide rather than live under its protection. The popular cry that soon arose was, "Universal amnesty and universal suffrage!"

No such exhibition of mercy has been seen before or since. Four years previous to this war, there was a rebellion against the authority of the British Government; six years after it, there was one against the French Government; and in both instances the conquered insurgents were punished with the utmost severity. In our own country there had been several minor insurrections preceding the great one. In such of these as were aimed against the institution of slavery--Vesey's, Turner's, and {449} Brown's--the offenders suffered the extreme penalty of the law; in the others--Fries's, Shays's, Dorr's, and the whiskey war--they were punished very lightly or not at all.

The general feeling in the country was of relief that the war was ended--hardly less at the South than at the North. After the surrender of the various armies, the soldiers so recently in arms against each other behaved more like brothers than like enemies. The Confederates were fed liberally from the abundant supplies of the National commissariat, and many of them were furnished with transportation to their homes in distant States. Some of them had been absent from their families during the whole war.

If the people of the North had any disposition to be boisterous over the final victory, it was completely quelled by the shadow of a great sorrow that suddenly fell upon them. A conspiracy had been in progress for a long time among a few half-crazy secessionists in and about the capital. It culminated on the night of Good Friday, April 14, 1865. One of the conspirators forced his way into Secretary Seward's house and attacked the Secretary with a knife, but did not succeed in killing him. Mr. Seward had been thrown from a carriage a few days before, and was lying in bed with his jaws encased in a metallic frame-work, which probably saved his life. The chief conspirator, an obscure actor, made his way into the box at Ford's Theatre where the President and his wife were sitting, witnessing the comedy of "Our American Cousin," shot Mr. Lincoln in the back of the head, jumped from the box to the stage with a flourish of bravado shouting "_Sic semper tyrannis!_" and escaped behind the scenes and out at the stage door. The dying President was carried to a house across the street, where he expired the next morning. As the principal Confederate army had already surrendered, it was impossible for any one to suppose that the killing of the President could affect the result of the war. Furthermore, Mr. Lincoln had long been in the habit of going to the War Department in the evening, and returning to the White House, unattended, late at night; so that an assassin who merely wished to put him out of the way had abundant opportunities for doing so, with good chances of escaping and concealing his own identity. It was therefore perfectly obvious that the murderer's principal motive was the same as that of the youth who set fire to the temple of Diana at Ephesus. And the newspapers did their utmost to give him the notoriety that he craved, displaying his name in large type at the head of their columns, and repeating about him every anecdote that could be recalled or manufactured. The consequence was that sixteen years later the country was disgraced by another Presidential assassination, mainly from the same motive; and, as the journalists repeated their folly on that occasion, we {450} shall perhaps have still another by and by.

Mr. Lincoln had grown steadily in the affections and admiration of the people. His state papers were the most remarkable in American annals; his firmness where firmness was required, and kindheartedness where kindness was practicable, were almost unfailing; and as the successive events of the war called forth his powers, it was seen that he had unlimited shrewdness and tact, statesmanship of the broadest kind, and that honesty of purpose which is the highest wisdom. Moreover, his lack of all vindictive feeling toward the insurgents, and his steady endeavor to make the restored Union a genuine republic of equal rights, gave tone to the feelings of the whole nation, and at the last won many admirers among his foes in arms. In his second inaugural address, a month before his death, he seemed to speak with that insight and calm judgment which we only look for in the studious historian in aftertimes. "Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God, and each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces. But let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayer of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through his appointed time, he now wills to remove, and that he gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a loving God always ascribe to him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, 'The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.' With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and a lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations."

A day or two after the evacuation of Richmond, Mr. Lincoln walked through its smoking and disordered streets, where the negroes crowded about him and called down all sorts of uncouth but sincere blessings on his head. He had lived to enter the enemy's capital, lived to see the authority of the United States restored over the whole country, and then was snatched away, when the people were as much as ever in need of his genius for the solution of new problems that suddenly confronted them.

The funeral train retraced the same route over which Mr. Lincoln had gone to Washington from his home in Springfield, Ill., four years before; and to the sorrowful crowds that were gathered at every station, and even along the track in the country, it seemed as if the light of the nation had gone out forever.

The armies returning from the field were brought to Washington for a grand review before being mustered out of service. The city was decorated with flags, mottoes, and floral designs, and the streets were thronged with people, many of whom carried wreaths and bouquets. The Army of the Potomac was reviewed on May 23d, and Sherman's army on the 24th, the troops marching in close column around the Capitol and down Pennsylvania Avenue to the music of their bands. As they passed the grand stand at the White House, where President Johnson and his {451} cabinet reviewed them, the officers saluted with their swords, and commanders of divisions dismounted and went upon the stand.

The armies were quickly disbanded, and each regiment, on its arrival home, was given a public reception and a fitting welcome. The men were well dressed and well fed, but their bronzed faces and their tattered and smoky battle-flags told where they had been. It was computed that the loss of life in the Confederate service was about equal to that in the National. Their losses in battle, as they were generally on the defensive, were smaller, but their means of caring for the wounded were inferior. Thus it cost us nearly six hundred thousand lives and more than six thousand million dollars to destroy the doctrine of State sovereignty, abolish the system of slavery, and begin the career of the United States as a nation.

The home-coming at the North was almost as sorrowful as at the South, because of those that came not. In all the festivities and rejoicings there was hardly a participator whose joy was not saddened by missing some well-known face and form now numbered with the silent three hundred thousand. Grant was there, the commander that had never taken a step backward; and Farragut was there, the sailor without an equal; and the unfailing Sherman, and the patient Thomas, and the intrepid Hancock, and the fiery Sheridan, and the brilliant Custer, and many of lesser rank, who in a smaller theatre of conflict would have won a larger fame. But where was young Ellsworth?--shot dead as soon as he crossed the Potomac. And Winthrop--killed in the first battle, with his best books unwritten. And Lyon--fallen at the head of his little army in Missouri, the first summer of the war. And Baker--sacrificed at Ball's Bluff. And Kearny at Chantilly, and Reno at South Mountain, and Mansfield at Antietam, and Reynolds at Gettysburg, and Wadsworth in the Wilderness, and Sedgwick at Spottsylvania, and McPherson before Atlanta, and Craven in his monitor at the bottom of the sea, and thousands of others, the best and bravest--all gone--all, like Latour, the immortal captain, dead on the field of honor, but none the less dead and a loss to their mourning country. The hackneyed allegory of Curtius had been given a startling illustration and a new significance. The South, too, had lost heavily of her foremost citizens in the great struggle--Bee and Bartow, at Bull Run; Albert Sidney Johnston, leading a desperate charge at Shiloh; Zollicoffer, soldier and journalist, at Mill Spring; Stonewall Jackson, Lee's right arm, at Chancellorsville; Polk, priest and warrior, at Lost Mountain; Armistead, wavering between two allegiances and fighting alternately for each, and Barksdale and Garnett--all at Gettysburg; Hill, at Petersburg; and the dashing Stuart, and Daniel, and Perrin, and Dearing, and Doles, and numberless others. The sudden hush and sense of awe that impresses a child when he steps upon a single grave, may well overcome the strongest man when he looks upon the face of his country scarred with battlefields like these, and considers what blood of manhood was rudely wasted there. And the slain were mostly young, unmarried men, whose native virtues fill no living veins, and will not shine again on any field.

{452} [Illustration: GRAND REVIEW OF THE ARMY, WASHINGTON, MAY 23-24, 1865.]

It is poor business measuring the mouldered ramparts and counting the silent guns, marking the deserted battlefields and decorating the grassy graves, unless we can learn from it all some nobler lesson than to destroy. Men write of this, as of other wars, as if the only thing necessary to be impressed upon the rising generation were the virtue of physical courage and contempt of death. It seems to me that is the last thing that we need to teach; for since the days of John Smith in Virginia and the men of the _Mayflower_ in Massachusetts, no generation of Americans has shown any lack of it. From Louisburg to {453} Petersburg--a hundred and twenty years, the full span of four generations--they have stood to their guns and been shot down in greater comparative numbers than any other race on earth. In the war of secession there was not a State, not a county, probably not a town, between the great lakes and the gulf, that was not represented on fields where all that men could do with powder and steel was done, and valor was exhibited at its highest pitch. It was a common saying in the Army of the Potomac that courage was the cheapest thing there; and it might have been said of all the other armies as well. There is not the slightest necessity for lauding American bravery or impressing it upon American youth. But there is the gravest necessity for teaching them respect for law, and reverence for human life, and regard for the rights of their fellow-men, and all that is significant in the history of our country--lest their feet run to evil and they make haste to shed innocent blood. I would be glad to convince my compatriots that it is not enough to think they are right, but they are bound to know they are right, before they rush into any experiments that are to cost the lives of men and the tears of orphans, in their own land or in any other. I would warn them to beware of provincial conceit. I would have them comprehend that one may fight bravely, and still be a perjured felon; that one may die humbly, and still be a patriot whom his country cannot afford to lose; that as might does not make right, so neither do rags and bare feet necessarily argue a noble cause. I would teach them that it is criminal either to hide the truth or to refuse assent to that which they see must follow logically from ascertained truth. I would show them that a political lie is as despicable as a personal lie, whether uttered in an editorial, or a platform, or a President's message, or a colored cartoon, or a disingenuous ballot; and that political chicanery, when long persisted in, is liable to settle its shameful account in a stoppage of civilization and a spilling of life. These are simple lessons, yet they are not taught in a day, and some whom we call educated go through life without mastering them at all.

It may be useful to learn from one war how to conduct another; but it is infinitely better to learn how to avert another. I am doubly anxious to impress this consideration upon my readers, because history seems to show us that armed conflicts have a tendency to come in pairs, with an interval of a few years, and because I think I see, in certain circumstances now existing within our beloved Republic, the elements of a second civil war. No American citizen should lightly repeat that the result is worth all it cost, unless he has considered how heavy was the cost, and is doing his utmost to perpetuate the result. To strive to forget the great war, for the sake of sentimental politics, is to cast away our dearest experience and invite, in some troubled future, the destruction we so hardly escaped in the past. There can be remembrance without animosity, but there cannot be oblivion without peril.

THE FIRST UNITED STATES FLAG RAISED IN RICHMOND AFTER THE WAR.

BY MRS. LASALLE CORBELL PICKETT, Wife of Major-General George E. Pickett, C. S. A.

The first knell of the evacuation of Richmond sounded on Sunday morning while we were on our knees in St. Paul's Church, invoking God's protecting care for our absent loved ones, and blessings on our cause.

The intense excitement, the tolling of the bells, the hasty parting, the knowledge that all communication would be cut off between us and our loved ones, and the dread, undefined fear in our helplessness and desertion, make a nightmare memory.

General Ewell had orders for the destruction of the public buildings, which orders our Secretary of War, Gen. J. C. Breckenridge, strove earnestly but without avail to have countermanded. The order, alas! was obeyed beyond "the letter of the law."

The terrible conflagration was kindled by the Confederate authorities, who applied the torch to the Shockoe warehouse, it, too, being classed among the public buildings because of the {454} tobacco belonging to France and England stored in it. A fresh breeze was blowing from the south; the fire swept on in its haste and fury over a great area in an almost incredibly short time, and by noon the flames had transformed into a desert waste all the city bounded by Seventh and Fifteenth Streets, and Main Street and the river. One thousand houses were destroyed. The streets were filled with furniture and every description of wares, dashed down to be trampled in the mud or buried where they lay.

At night a saturnalia began. About dark, the Government commissary began the destruction of its stores. Soldiers and citizens gathered in front, catching the liquor in basins and pitchers; some with their hats and some with their boots. It took but a short time for this to make a manifestation as dread as the flames. The crowd became a howling mob, so frenzied that the officers of the law had to flee for their lives, reviving memories of 1781, when the British under Arnold rode down Richmond Hill, and, invading the city, broke open the stores and emptied the provisions and liquors into the gutters, making even the uninitiated cows and hogs drunk for days.

All through the night, crowds of men, women, and children traversed the streets, loading themselves with supplies and plunder. At midnight, soldiers drunk with vile liquor, followed by a reckless crowd as drunk as themselves, dashed in the plate-glass windows of the stores, and made a wreck of everything.

About nine o'clock on Monday morning, terrific shell explosions, rapid and continuous, added to the terror of the scene, and gave the impression that the city was being shelled by the retreating Confederate army from the south side. But the explosions were soon found to proceed from the Government arsenal and laboratory, then in flames. Later in the morning, a merciful Providence caused a lull in the breeze. The terrific explosion of the laboratory and of the arsenal caused every window in our home to break. The old plate-glass mirrors, built in the walls, were cracked and shattered.

Fort Darling was blown up, and later on the rams. It was eight o'clock when the Federal troops entered the city. It required the greatest effort to tame down the riotous, crazed mob, and induce them to take part in the struggle to save their own. The firemen, afraid of the soldiers who had obeyed the orders to light the torch, would not listen to any appeals or entreaties, and so the flames were under full headway, fanned by a southern breeze, when the Union soldiers came to the rescue.

The flouring mills caught fire from the tobacco houses, communicating it to Cary and Main Streets. Every bank was destroyed. The War Department was a mass of ruins; the _Enquirer_ and _Dispatch_ offices were in ashes; and the county court-house, the American Hotel, and most of the finest stores of the city were ruined.

Libby Prison and the Presbyterian church escaped. Such a reign of terror and pillage, fire and flame, fear and despair! The yelling and howling and swearing and weeping and wailing beggar description. Families houseless and homeless under the open sky!

I shall never forget General Weitzel's command, composed exclusively of colored troops, as I saw them through the dense black columns of smoke. General Weitzel had for some time been stationed on the north side of the James River, but a few miles from Richmond, and he had only to march in and take possession. He despatched Major A. H. Stevens of the Fourth Massachusetts cavalry, and Major E. E. Graves of his staff, with about a hundred mounted men, to reconnoitre the roads and works leading to Richmond. They had gone but a little distance into the Confederate lines, when they saw a shabby, old-fashioned carriage, drawn by a pair of lean, lank horses, the occupants waving a white flag. They met this flag-of-truce party at the line of fortifications, just beyond the junction of the Osborne turnpike and New Market road. The carriage contained the mayor of Richmond--Colonel Mayo--Judge Meredith of the Supreme Court, and Judge Lyons. The fourth worthy I cannot recall. Judge Lyons, our former minister to England, and one of the representative men of Virginia, made the introductions in his own characteristic way, and then Colonel Mayo, who was in command of the flag-of-truce party, handed to Major Stevens a small slip of wall paper, on which was written the following: "It is proper to formally surrender to the Federal authorities the city of Richmond, hitherto capital of the Confederate States of America, and the defences protecting it up to this time." That was all. The document was approved of, and Major Stevens most courteously accepted the terms for his commanding general, to whom it was at once transmitted, and moved his column upon the evacuated city, taking possession and saving it from ashes.

His first order was to sound the alarm bells and to take command at once of the fire department, which consisted of fourteen substitute men, those who were exempt from service because of disease, two steam fire engines, four worthless hand engines, and a large amount of hose, destroyed by the retreating half-crazed Confederates. His next order was to raise the stars and stripes over the Capitol. Quick as thought, two soldiers, one from Company E and one from Company H of the Fourth Massachusetts cavalry, crept to the summit and planted the flag of the nation. Two bright, tasteful guidons were hoisted by the halyards in place of the red cross. The living colors of the Union were greeted, while our "Warriors' banner took its flight to meet the warrior's soul."

That flag, whose design has been accredited alike to both George Washington and John Adams, was raised over Virginia by Massachusetts, in place of the one whose kinship and likeness had not, even after renewed effort, been entirely destroyed. For by the adoption of the stars and bars (three horizontal bars of equal width--the middle one white, the others red--with a blue union of nine stars in a circle) by the Confederate Congress in March, 1861, the Confederate flag was made so akin and so similar to that of the nation, as to cause confusion; so in 1863 the stars and bars was supplanted by a flag with a white field, having the battle flag (a red field charged with a blue saltier, on which were thirteen stars) for a union. This, having been mistaken for a flag of truce, was altered by covering the outer half of the field beyond the union with a vertical red bar. This was the last flag of the Confederacy.

Richmond will testify that the soldiers of Massachusetts were worthy of the honor of raising the first United States flag over her Capitol--the Capitol of the Confederacy--and also to the unvarying courtesy of Major Stevens, and the fidelity with which he kept his trust.

{455}

HUMOROUS INCIDENTS OF THE WAR.

_The illustrations of this chapter are exact reproductions of cartoons published during the war in various newspapers and periodicals._

FUN FROM ENLISTMENT TO HONORABLE DISCHARGE--RECRUITS' EXCUSES--BULL RUN PLEASANTRIES--GREENHORNS IN CAMP--FUN WITH THE AWKWARD SQUAD--OFFICERS LEARNING THEIR BUSINESS--SENTRIES AND SHOULDER STRAPS--STORIES OF GRANT, LINCOLN, BUTLER, SHERMAN, ETC.--DUTCH, IRISH, AND DARKY COMEDY--EXPEDIENTS OF THE HOMESICK--ARMY CHAPLAINS--HOSPITAL HUMOR--GRANT'S "PIE ORDER"--"THROUGH VIRGINIA"--YANKEE GOOD NATURE AND PLUCK A BETTER STIMULANT THAN WHISKEY.

The hardships of campaigning, the sufferings of the hospital, the horrors of actual combat--none of these sufficed to keep down the irrepressible spirit of fun in the American soldier. From the day of his enlistment to the day of his discharge he did not cease to look upon the funny side of every situation, and the veterans of to-day talk more about the humor of the war than of privations and pitched battles. Wits in and out of the army said and did clever things, some of which have passed into the proverbs and idioms of the American people; and more than one distinguished "American humorist" laid the foundation of his reputation in connection with the war.

Humorous situations began at the very recruiting office, or the citizens' meeting which stimulated recruiting, and continued to the end of the service. It was at one of the meetings held in a New England village that the wife of a spirited citizen, whose patriotism consisted in brave words, said to him: "I thought you said you were going to enlist to-night." Well, he had thought better of it. "Take off those breeches, then, and give them to me, and I will go myself." There was not much prospect of "peace" for him in a life at home after that; so he went to the front. Countless excuses were offered by candidates for the draft in the hope of proving themselves physically disqualified for service. The man who had one leg too short was let off; but the man behind him, who pleaded that he had "both legs too short," failed to prove a double incapacity, and he wore the blue, and that creditably.

Officers who tarried too long in Washington on their way to the front were not seldom rendered uncomfortable by the remarks made to them or in their hearing. One who was eager for news from the first battle of Bull Run bought an "extra" of a newsboy who was calling, "All about the battle!" Glancing over it, he shouted after the boy: "Here! I don't see any battle in this paper." "Don't you?" said the boy. "Well, you won't see any battle if you loaf around this hotel _all_ the time." It was of the battle of Bull Run that a wit said, it was so popular it had to be repeated the very next year, to satisfy the public demand for it. And one of the participants in this first experience of the new army said: "At Bull Run we were told that the eyes of Washington were upon us; when we knew very well that what we were most anxious about was to get our eyes on Washington." It was said of the soldiers on both sides in that battle, that their guns trembled in their hands, so that if the enemy was dodging he was almost certain to be hit, and that the conclusion arrived at by the rearward experiments of both armies was that a soldier may retreat successfully from almost any position if only he starts in time. Thus the pleasantry of the day turned to account the "baptism of fire" of some of the bravest troops that ever wore blue or gray.

Once in camp, the school-boy spirit revelled in larks of every description. A few weeks of experience developed military manners and prepared the recruit to enjoy the greenness of the newer comers. On drill, a new recruit was sure to get his toes exactly where a "vet" wanted to drop the butt of his musket as he ordered arms, and if there was a mud-puddle within a yard of him he was sure to "dress" into it. The new men were sent to the officers' quarters on the most absurd errands, usually in quest of some luxury which, fresh from the comforts of home, they still regarded as a necessity. The drilling of the awkward squad was a never-ending source of amusement; for some men are constitutionally incapable of moving in a machine-like harmony with others, and these were continually out of {456} place. One of them was a loose-jointed fellow from, say, Nantucket, who was so thorough a patriot that he was always longing for home, and he met every hardship and discouragement with a sigh and the wish that he was back in Nantucket. He was exceedingly awkward at drill. He seemed to make every movement on the "bias." One day, in responding to a command, he figured it out so badly as to find himself all alone, several yards away from the rest of the squad. All at sea, he said: "Captain, where ought I to be now?" The captain, thoroughly out of patience, shouted back: "Why, _back in Nantucket_, gol darn you!" There was the Irishman who said he had spent two years in the cavalry learning to turn his toes _in_, and two years in the infantry learning to turn his toes _out_. "Divil take such a sarvice," said he; "there's no plazing the blackguards, anyhow."

The drill jokes were not all on the men. The officers, who at the beginning were nonmilitary citizens like their soldiers, had their business to learn. Indeed, it was not an easy matter at first to preserve thorough discipline, because of the frequent equality, in military knowledge, between the officers and the men. It was said that the American soldier was perfectly willing to endure hardships, to fight, and if necessary to die, for his country; but the hardest thing for him to submit to was to be bossed around by his superior officer, who might, like enough, be his next-door neighbor at home. One captain, who had abandoned railroading for the war, in his excitement over the necessity of halting his men suddenly, true to his former calling, shouted out, "Down brakes!" And another, who had forgotten the command for breaking ranks, dismissed his company with the order, "Adjourn for rations!" It was a Georgian commandant of a Home Guard who, while showing his men off before a visiting officer, invented his own tactics on the basis of "common sense." His first order after falling in was, "In two ranks, git!" It was not long before he had his men pretty well mixed up; but, equal to the occasion, he shouted, "Disentangle to the front, march!" which was as effective as anything in "Hardee's Tactics." Drill sergeants were often peremptory fellows, and they sometimes called on their men to perform difficult feats. One under-sized sergeant had much trouble with an Irish recruit, whose enormous height had given him the habit of looking _down_, and he could not keep his chin up to the military angle. Finally the sergeant reached up to the Irishman's chin (for which he had to stand on tip-toe) and poked it up, saying, "That's the place for it; now don't let us see your head down again."--"Am I always to be like this, sergeant?" asked the recruit. "Yes, sir."--"Then I'll say good by to yez, sergeant, for I'll niver see yez again." It was a very fresh recruit who was found on his sentry post sitting down and cleaning his gun, which he had taken entirely to pieces. The officer who discovered him rebuked him sternly and asked, "Are you the sentinel here?"--"Well, I'm a sort of a sentinel."--"Well, I'm a sort of officer of the day."--"All right," said the undismayed recruit, "just hold on till I get my gun together, and I'll give you a sort of a salute."

The military rule that a sentry must challenge everybody, and not pass unchallenged even those whom he knew to be all right, was often as slow in taking possession of the officers' minds as those of the least experienced of the men. A full-uniformed lieutenant, much disgusted at the "Who goes there?" of one of his own company on guard, expressed his sentiments by indignantly exclaiming, "Ass!" To which the sentry promptly responded, "Advance, Ass, and give the countersign!" Not infrequently general officers and high dignitaries had experiences with the guards of their own camps. It is said that every great general in history has been halted by a guard, the approach of a well-known superior officer giving the sentry an opportunity of showing off his discipline. General McClellan was not only halted on a certain occasion, but forced to dismount and call up the officer of the guard before a sentry would let him pass. General Sherman, who used to see for himself what was going on among his men, under the incognito afforded by a rather unmilitary dress, once interfered with a teamster who was pounding a mule, and told him who he was. "Oh, that's played out!" said the mule driver; "every man that comes along here {457} with an old brown coat and a stove-pipe hat claims to be General Sherman." This suggests the story of a mule driver in the army who was swearing at and kicking a span of balky mules, when the general, who was annoyed at his profanity, ordered him to stop. "Who are you?" said the mule driver. "I'm the commander of the brigade," said the general. "I'm the commander of these mules, and I'll do as I please, or resign, and you can take my place!" The general passed on. Even the President of the United States had his encounter with a guard, and was for a short time kept waiting outside General Grant's tent under the order, suggested by his somewhat clerical appearance, "No sanitary folks allowed inside!"

Lincoln always made friends among the soldiers. On one occasion he came on some men hewing logs for a hospital, and remarking, with a reminiscence of his rail-splitting days, that he "used to be pretty good on the chop," made the chips fly for a while like a veteran lumberman. The President's half-pathetic saying, that he had "no influence with this administration," has passed into history; but less familiar is his remark, when some one applied to him for a pass to go into Richmond, and he said, "I don't know about that; I have given passes to about two hundred and fifty thousand men to go there during the last two years, and not one of them has got there yet."

Ben Butler was credited with a lawyer-like disinclination to be cross-questioned when he gave orders. Word was brought to him that his favorite horse, "Almond-eye," had fallen into a ravine and been killed, and he called an orderly and told him to go to the ravine and skin the horse. "What, is Almond-eye dead?" asked the man. "Never you mind whether he is or not," said the general, "you obey orders." The man came back in about two hours and reported that he had finished. "Has it taken you all this time to skin a horse?" asked Butler. "Oh, no; it took me half an hour to catch him," was the reply. "You don't mean to say you killed him?" shouted the irate general. "My orders were to skin him," said the soldier, "and I obeyed them without asking any questions."

Officers and men alike showed much wit in their way of dealing with impossible or unwelcome orders. A lieutenant protested against an order to take a squad of men across a swamp where he knew the depth was enough to drown every man of them. He was sternly rebuked by his superior, who ordered him peremptorily to make the crossing, telling him that his requisition would be honored for whatever he might require for the purpose. So he made a requisition for "twenty men eighteen feet long to cross a swamp fifteen feet deep."

We will give another of the many similar stories. After a long march a captain ordered, as a sanitary precaution, that the men should change their under-shirts. The orderly sergeant suggested that half of the men had only one shirt each. The captain hesitated a moment and then said: "Military orders must be obeyed. Let the men, then, change with each other."

Orders against unauthorized foraging were very strict. A youthful soldier was stopped on his way into camp with a fine goose slung over his shoulder, and he was required to account for it. "Well," said he, "I was coming through the village whistling 'Yankee Doodle,' and this confounded rebel of a goose came out and hissed me; so I shot it."

"Where did you get that turkey?" said the colonel of the ---- Texas regiment to one of his amiable recruits that came into camp with a fine bird.

"Stole it," was the laconic reply.

"Ah!" said the colonel, triumphantly, to a bystander, "you see my boys may steal, but they won't lie."

During a battle the interest in the work was so intense as to leave small room for fear, either of the enemy or of superior officers. An Irish private was ordered to take up the colors when the color-bearer was shot down. "By the holy St. Patrick, colonel," said he, "there's so much good shooting here, I haven't a minute's time to waste fooling with that thing."

The desire to get home for a few days developed much ingenuity among the enlisted men. "What do you want, Pat?" asked General Rosecrans, as he rode along the line, inquiring into the wants of his men. "A furlough!" said Pat. "How long has your sister been dead?" asked a sympathetic comrade of a soldier who had obtained a leave on account of the family trouble. "About ten years," was the cool reply. General Thomas asked a man who applied for leave to go and see his wife how long it was since he had seen her. "Over three {458} months," was the answer. "Three months!" exclaimed the general; "why, I haven't seen my wife for three _years!_" "That may be," said the soldier, "but you see, general, me and my wife ain't o' that sort."

The "intelligent contraband," the irrepressible darky, is one of the few types of mankind that furnish as much fun in real life as on the stage. He was a source of constant amusement in the army. A colored refugee from the Confederate lines brought word, as the only news worth mentioning (referring to himself), that "a man in Culpeper lost a mighty valuable nigger this mornin'." The driver of a commissary wagon exemplified the general non-combativeness of his race, when, in describing his emotions during an attack on the train, he said he felt "like every hair of his head was a bugle, an' dey was all a-playin' 'Home, Sweet Home.'" An officer tried to induce his servant, who was a refugee, to enlist, saying he must trust the Lord to keep him safe. "Well," he said, "I _did_ trust de Lord when I was tryin' to get into de Union lines, but I dun dare resk Him again!"

The army chaplain now and then ran against the rough soldier wit. One of them, who took a practical view of his responsibility for the souls of his regiment, welcomed some recruits with the suggestion that, having joined the army of their country, they should now also join the army of the Lord. "What bounty does He give?" was the irreverent rejoinder. Even in hospital the disposition to look on the humorous side of life--or of death--never forsook men. One who had lost three fingers held up the maimed member and sorrowfully regretted that he "never could hold a full hand again." A pale-faced sufferer in a hospital near a large city was asked by a visiting lady if she could not do something for him. No. Could she not bathe his head? "You may if you want to very much," he replied; "but if you do, you will be the fourteenth lady that has bathed my head this morning." It was an Irish surgeon who remarked that "the man who has lost his finger makes more noise about it than the man who has lost his head." A nurse was shocked one morning to find two attendants noisily hammering and sawing at one end of a ward where a very sick man was lying. In reply to her questions, they said they were making a coffin. "Who for?" "Him"--pointing to the sick man. "Is he going to die?" she asked, much distressed. "The doctor says he is, an' _I guess he knows what he give him!_" It was a Confederate guerilla who comforted himself, while lying on his hospital cot, with the reflection, "I reckon I killed as many of them as they did of me."

A soldier was wounded by a shell at Fort Wagner. He was going to the rear. "Wounded by a shell?" some one asked. "Yes," he coolly answered. "I was right under the durned thing when the bottom dropped out."

The occurrences in the enemy's country, and stories that originated there, furnished no small portion of the humor that was current during the war. "Where does this road lead to?" asked the lieutenant in command of a reconnoitering party. "It leads to h----!" was the surly reply of the unregenerate rebel thus interrogated. "Well, by the appearance of the inhabitants of this country, I should judge that I'm most there," was the retort. An old man in Georgia was called upon to declare which side he took, and, uncertain as to the identity of his captors, he said: "I ain't took no side; but both sides hev took me!" It must have been his wife who said: "I ain't neither Secesh nor Union--jest Baptist."

The devotion of Southern women to the Confederacy has often been remarked. One of the minor officers of the army, who marched with Sherman to the sea, and who states that he tramped, all told, at least two thousand miles during the war through the South, says that he saw many Southern men who were loyal to the Union, and who regretted the secession of their respective States, but he saw only one Southern woman whom he even suspected to be Union in sentiment. He saw this woman during a foraging expedition in connection with the march to the sea. He had charge of a squad of thirteen men who had marched through the woods some distance away from the army. As they rounded a sharp curve in the road, they suddenly came upon a house almost covered with foliage. In front of the house, and only a few yards from the men, was a woman picking up chips. Her back was toward the soldiers, and she had not noticed their approach. The commanding officer motioned to his men to stop, and, tip-toeing up to the side of the woman, he put his arm around her waist and kissed her. Stepping back a pace or two, he waited for the bitter denunciation and abuse that he was sure would come. The woman, however, straightened herself up, looked at the officer for a moment, and then said slowly: "You'll find me right here every morning a-picking up chips." The officer said he strongly suspected that she was disloyal to the South.

A military peculiarity of General Bragg's was touched on in the remark that, when he died and approached the gate of heaven and was invited in, the first thing he'd do would be to "fall back." Gen. W. T. Sherman never seemed to suit the Confederates, no matter what he did. One of the {459} prisoners who fell into the hands of his army gave the following graphic expression of the Southern idea of the general: "Sherman gits on a hill, flops his wings and crows; then he yells out: 'Attention, creation! by kingdoms, right wheel, _march!_' And then we git!" It was a solitary relic left behind after one of Sherman's advances, that, communing with himself, said: "Well, I'm badly whipped and somewhat demoralized, but no man can say I am scattered."

Among the humorous miscellanies of the war, General Grant's "pie order" must have an immortal place. It was during Grant's early campaign in Eastern Missouri that a lieutenant in command of the advance guard inspired the mistress of a wayside house with exceptional alacrity in supplying the wants of himself and men by announcing himself to be Brigadier-General Grant. Later in the day the general himself came to the same house and was turned away with the information that General Grant and staff had been there that morning and eaten everything in the house but one pumpkin pie. Giving her half a dollar, he told her to keep that pie till he sent for it. That evening the army went into camp some miles beyond this place, and at the dress parade that was ordered, the following special order was published:

"HEADQUARTERS, ARMY IN THE FIELD.

"SPECIAL ORDERS, NO. --.

"Lieutenant Wickfield, of the --th Indiana Cavalry, having on this day eaten everything in Mrs. Selvidge's house, at the crossing of the Ironton and Pocahontas and Black River and Cape Girardeau roads, except one pumpkin pie, Lieutenant Wickfield is hereby ordered to return with an escort of one hundred cavalry and eat that pie also.

"U. S. GRANT,

"_Brigadier-General Commanding_."

Virginia mud and Virginia swamps were celebrated by the invention of the response to the question, "Did you go through Virginia?" "Yes--in a number of places;" and the exclamation of the trooper who was fording a stream flanked by miles of swamp on either side: "Blowed if I don't think we have struck this stream lengthwise."

It is impossible here to attempt more than a suggestion of the combination of good nature and pluck that, all through the dreadful days of the war, rendered hardships endurable, lent courage to the faint-hearted, and cheered the low-spirited. "The humor of the war" was no mere ebullition of school-boy fun; it was as potent a factor in accomplishing the results of the war as powder and shot--a stimulant that carried men over hard places better than whiskey.

WAR HUMOR IN THE SOUTH.

THE BADINAGE OF THE ARMY--NO RESPECTER OF PERSONS--"PICKIN' A CHUNE" FROM A BASS DRUM--SWEARING THAT WAS "PLUM NIGH LIKE PREACHIN'"--WHAT IS A "BEE-LINE"?--FUN AMONG THE NEGROES--STONEWALL JACKSON'S BODY-SERVANT--WOMEN IN SEWING SOCIETIES AND AT THE BEDSIDES OF THE WOUNDED.

Southern soldiers, like their Northern opponents, soon found that humor was a safety valve--a diversion from the graver thoughts that, in their lonely hours, lingered around the wife, mother, and children in the distant home. Withal, it was a spontaneous good humor, such as Washington Irving calls the "oil and wine of a merry meeting," where the companionship was contagious and the jokes small, but the jollity was abundant. It might not have been as polished as that of Uncle Toby or Corporal Trim, nor as philosophical as Dickens makes the observations of the elder Mr. Weller and his son "Sam," but it exemplified human nature in the rough, and overflowed harmlessly.

Those who have had occasion to make the comparison have, without doubt, observed salient points of difference between the styles of badinage prevalent in the Northern and Southern armies. Your Southerner was no respecter of persons. He seized on any feature of an individuality that presented a ludicrous side. If a stranger was unusually long or short, or lean or fat, he was sure to be a target for ridicule.

Passing through Frederick in the first Maryland campaign (1862), a good-natured-looking citizen, who evidently had not been able to tie his shoestrings for a number of years, stood on his doorstep watching us as we passed. "Hi, there! Hog-killing time, boys," suddenly astonished his ears, and was the signal for an instant fire of playful chaff. "Aint he swelled powerful?" "Must have swallowed a bass drum." "I say, stranger, buttermilk or corn-fed?" "Does it hurt much?" "What hurt?" ventured the fat man, quizzically. "Why, totin' them rations around with yer all day." In a minute or two the old gentleman, very red in the face, carried his abdominal rotundity into the house, but quickly reappeared with a demijohn in each hand. "Here, boys!" he exclaimed, "wash your mouths out with some of this applejack, and have a bit of mercy on a fat man." It is needless to say that the boys promptly cheered their vote of thanks.

{460} [Illustration: THE OLD JOHN ROSS HOUSE, NEAR RINGGOLD, GA.--MISSIONARY RIDGE ON THE RIGHT. (From a Government photograph.)]

The colonel of a South Carolina regiment, having returned from his furlough with a pair of high top boots--boots were then worth seven or eight hundred {461} dollars--had the temerity to run the gauntlet of a neighboring brigade, and heard comments like these: "I say, mister, better git out'r them smokestacks; know you're in thar 'cause we kin see yer head stickin' out." "Boys, the kern'l 's gone into winter quarters." "What mout be the price o' them nail kags?" etc. An officer wearing noticeably bushy whiskers was unfeelingly invited to "come out from behind that bunch of har! 'Taint no use t' say yer aint in thar, 'cause yer ears is workin' monstrous powerful." It was rarely safe, under these circumstances, to answer with either wit or abuse.

Our soldiers had little respect for what were known as "bombproofs"--the fellows who had easy positions in the rear. On one occasion a smartly dressed young officer belonging to this kindred cantered up to a depot where a regiment of men were awaiting transfer. As soon as they saw him they began whooping: "Oh, my! aint he pooty!" "Say, mister, whar'd ye git that biled shut?" "Does yer grease that har with ham fat, or how?" And so they plied the poor fellow with all manner of questions concerning his age, occupation, religious and political convictions, that were calculated to make a man feel uncomfortable. One feather, however, broke the camel's back. A long, cadaverous specimen of humanity, who had evidently been making a comical survey of the victim--his handsome uniform, and well-polished boots--taking a step or two forward as if to show his intense interest, solemnly drawled out: "Was yer ra-a-ly born so, or did they put yer together by corntract? Strikes me yer must have got yere in a drove or ben picked afore you was ripe." Then somebody suggested that "sich a nice-lookin' rooster ought to git down and scratch for a wurrum"; and amid the laughter that followed, he was glad to put spurs to his horse and gallop out of hearing.

Cavalrymen were called by the infantry "buttermilk rangers," and the musicians came in for more than their share of good-natured chaff. Rather than be tormented, the latter would sometimes leave the line of march and go through the fields, thus avoiding the frequent invitation to "give us a toot on yer old funnel," or "brace up with yer blow-pipe." One day a bass drummer, plodding along, was attracted by a pitiful voice coming from a group of men resting by the roadside: "Mister, oh, mister, please come yere?" Turning in the direction, he found it proceeded from a woe-begone-looking Mississippian, whose sickly appearance was well calculated to arouse the sympathy of a tender-hearted musician. "Well, what can I do for you?" said the man with the drum. "Oh, a heap, a heap. I've got a powerful misery, and I thought as how you mout set down yere and pick a chune for a sick man on that ar thing you tote around on your stomach." Shouts of laughter told him that he was "sold," and he never heard the last of the applications for the soothing tones of "that ar thing."

This drollery of expression cropped out even amid the turmoil and excitement of the battlefield. The story is told of a young fellow who was under fire at Manassas for the first time, one of those hundreds of thousands on both sides behind whose inexperience was too much pride of character to permit them to show the white feather, and whose fear of the contempt of their comrades, as well as of the disgrace at home, made them good fighters. He had become pretty well warmed up and was doing excellent service when suddenly he caught sight of a rabbit loping across the field between the lines. Dropping his gun, as he was about to shoot, he looked dolefully at the little animal for an instant and then yelled with honest pathos: "Go it, cotton tail, go it. I'm ez skeered ez you be, an' ef I hadn't a reputation to lose I'd run too."

At the battle of Kinston, N. C., Gen. N. E. Evans, of South Carolina, familiarly known in the old army as "Shanks," posted a body of raw militia at the crossing of a creek, but they were met by a severe fire and forced to give way. In the disorder that followed, the general caught one of the fugitives and with a number of emphatic adjectives demanded: "What are you running away for, you blank, blank coward? You ought to be ashamed of yourself." "I ain't runnin' away, gineral, I'm jes' skeered. Why, them fellers over thar are shootin' bullets at us big {462} as watermillions, boo-hoo-hoo! One on 'em went right peerst my head--right peerst--an' I want ter go home."

"Well, why didn't you shoot back, sir? You are crying like a baby."

"I know it, gineral, I know it, boo-hoo! and I wish I was a baby, and a gal baby too, and then I wouldn't have ben cornscripted."

This reminds us of another North Carolina story. During the Rebellion the staff of General Wise was riding through a rather forlorn part of that State, and a young Virginian of the staff concluded to have a little fun at the expense of a long-legged specimen of the genus _homo_ who wore a very shabby gray uniform and bestrode a worm fence at the roadside. Reining in his horse, he accosted him with "How are you, North Carolina?"

"How are you, Virginia?" was the ready response.

The staff officer continued: "The blockade on turpentine makes you rather hard up, don't it? No sale for tar now?"

"Well--yes--" was the slow response. "We sell all our tar to Jeff Davis now."

"The thunder you do! What on earth does the President want of your tar?"

North Carolina answered, "He puts it on the heels of Virginians to make them stick on the battlefield."

The staff rode on.

Speaking of General Evans, an incident is recalled concerning his brother-in-law, Gen. Mart Gary, who succeeded Wade Hampton in the command of the Hampton Legion. Gary employed many phrases, especially in battle, that are not often heard in polite society. His old body-servant, commenting on this habit, gave the following description of the manner in which his master stormed and swore at some disobedience of orders during one of the fights.

"I golly, massa, but de way de ole man moub about dat day was 'scrutiatin'. He went dis away an' he went dat away wabin his sword like a scythe blade. He went yere and he went dar; but to hear de ole man open battery on de hard wuds in de langidge and jes' frow um aroun'--frow um aroun' loose--I declar, boss, it were plum nigh like preachin'."

At first, the necessity for discipline was not recognized by the raw Southern volunteers, and instances of the verdancy which prevailed were common. When a picket guard at Harper's Ferry, where our first troops assembled, was being detailed for duty, one of the men stoutly protested against any such arrangement, because, as he remarked, "What's the use of gwine out thar t' keep ev'rybody off? We've all kim here t' hev a fight with the Yankees, and ef yer keep fellers out thar t' skeer 'em off, how in thunder are we gwine to hev a scrimmage?"

An officer, while inspecting the sentinel lines one day, asked a picket what he would do if he saw a body of men coming. "Halt 'em, and demand the countersign, sir!" "But suppose they wouldn't halt?" "Then I'd shoot." "Suppose they didn't stop then, what would you do?" "I reckon I'd form a line, sir." "A line? What kind of a line?" "A bee-line straight for camp, and run like thunder!"

{463} A young lieutenant, fresh from a country drill ground and sadly ignorant of the tactics of Hardee or Scott, didn't know exactly what to do when the commanding officer ordered him one morning to "mount guard." He marched off with his squad of men, however, and about an hour afterwards was found sitting under a tree and talking to some one in the branches. "Well, lieutenant, have you mounted guard?" "Oh, yes, sir," was the cool reply; "got 'lev'n up this tree and t'others 'r' over yander roost'n' in another."

The Southern negroes also furnished abundant humor of their peculiar kind. During the occupation of Yorktown, Va., a shell entering camp made a muddle of a lot of pots and kettles. Mingo, the cook, at once started off for a safe place in the rear. On the way he was met by one of his brother servants, who inquired: "Wot's de matter, Mingo? Whar's yo' gwine wid such a hurrification?"

"'Ain't gwine nowhar p't'c'lar; jis' gittin' outen de way dem waggin hubs dey's t'rowin' at us."

"Eh, eh, Mingo, I 'spects dat's a sign you's a wicked nigger, for ef yo' was a good Chrishun yo' nebber be skeer by dem shell. Ef yo' listen to de Good Book, yo' find dat Massa up yander am pintin' eb'ry one ob em, an' know 'zactly whar to drap um!"

"Da' mebbe so, mebbe so; but yo' can't fool dis chile. Hear me, Jupiter. Dar's too much powder in dem t'ings for the good Lor' to meddle wid 'em, and dis chile ain't gwine ter bu'n hisself, needer. And dar's dem Minnie bullets, too. When dey come flyin' troo de air singin' de chune, whar is yer, whar is yer? I ain't gwine for to stop and say whar I is fur de bessest cotton patch in the lan'. I'se a twenty-two-hundred-dollar nigger, Jupiter, an' I'se gwine t' tek keer ob what b'long t' massa."

It is said that the body-servant of Stonewall Jackson always knew when he was about to engage in a battle. Some one asked him how he came to be so much in the confidence of his master. "Lor', sir," was the reply, "de gin'rul nebber tell me nuffin'. De way I know is dis: massa say he prayer twice a day--mornin' an' night; but w'en he git up two or t'ree time in de night to pray, den I begin to pack de haversack de fus' t'ing, ca'se I know dere'll be de ole boy to pay right away."

In the early part of the war there was much equality between the officers and privates. Many of the latter were socially and intellectually superior to the former. In the course of an altercation one day, a subordinate made an irritating remark, when his captain exclaimed: "If you repeat that, I'll lay down my rank and fight you." "Lay down your rank!" was the indignant response. "That won't make you a gentleman. A coward ought to fight with straps on his shoulders, but it takes a gentleman to fight for eleven dollars a month!"

The women of the South furnished what may be called the nerve-force of the war. From the very beginning they made it disgraceful for any man of fighting age to stay at home without sufficient cause. Their earliest associations were soldiers' sewing societies. Yet not all of the ladies were at first adepts in fashioning men's attire, and sometimes comical results followed. Stockings failed to match, and buttons would be sewed on the wrong side of a man's shirt or breeches. In one instance a friend of the writer turned over to the matron president of her society in Charleston a pair of trousers with one leg. "Why, what in the world did you make that thing for?" was asked by the old lady. "Oh--er--er, why, that's for a one-legged soldier, of course," gasped the young patriot in her confusion. "That's all right, Miss Georgia; very thoughtful, very thoughtful. But," looking at them quizzically through her spectacles, "Miss Georgia, you've got 'em buttoned up behind."

After the battle of Leesburg, Va., a group of ladies visited the wounded, and seeing one of the latter prone upon his stomach, the sympathetic question was asked, as would be quite natural: "Where are you hurt?" The man, an Irishman, pretended not to hear, and replied: "Purthy well, I thank ye, mum." "But where were you wounded?" again fired away one of the ladies. "Faith, it's nothing at all, at all, that I want, leddies. I think I'll be on me way to Richmond in about tin days," again answered Pat, with a peculiarly distressed look, as if he wished to avoid further conversation on a delicate subject.

Thinking that he was deaf, an old lady, who had remained in the background, now put her mouth down to his ear and shouted: "We--want--to--know--where--you--are--hurt--where--you--are--wounded-- so--we--can--do--something--for--you!"

Pat, evidently finding that if the bombardment continued much longer he would have to strike his flag, concluded to do so at once, and with a face as rosy as a boiled lobster and a humorous twinkle in his eye replied: "Sure, leddies, it's not deaf that I am; but since ye're determined to know where I've been hurted, it's--it's where I can't sit down to take my males. The rascally bullet entered the behind o' me coat!"

Sudden locomotion followed, and the story circulated among the fair sex like quicksilver on a plate of glass; but while Paddy had plenty of sympathy, the pestered him with no more questions of "Where are you hurt?"

HENRY W. B. HOWARD.

{464}

INDIVIDUAL HEROISM AND THRILLING INCIDENTS.

KINDNESS TO FEDERAL PRISONERS BY MEMBERS OF THE FIFTY-FOURTH VIRGINIA REGIMENT--AN ORATION ON PATRIOTISM--THE LAST WORDS OF AN HEROIC SOLDIER--HE DIES FOR US--MATCHING GALLANT AND CHIVALROUS DEEDS OF PREVIOUS WARS--AN INCIDENT OF GETTYSBURG--HOW GENERAL JOHN B. GORDON GAVE AID AND COMFORT TO HIS ENEMY, GENERAL BARLOW--WOMEN WHO DARED AND SUFFERED FOR THE FLAG--MRS. BROMWELL, A BRAVE COLOR-BEARER IN TIME OF DANGER--A MODERN ANDRÉ--THE SULTANA DISASTER--THE HERO OF BURNSIDE'S MINE.

AN ORATION ON PATRIOTISM.

I have listened to the best speakers our country has possessed in the thirty years which have elapsed since the war, but not one of them has made the impression on my mind which a few words, falling from the lips of a private soldier, did away back in 1862.

It was the night of the 30th of August, 1862, and I, with others, was lying in the Van Pelt farmhouse, on the field of the Second Bull Run. The time of night I do not know. I had been semi-unconscious from the joint effect of chloroform and amputations. The room in the old farmhouse in which I lay was crowded with desperately wounded men, or boys, for some of us were not nineteen years of age--one hundred and seventy odd men in and around the house. With returned consciousness, sometime in the night, I became aware of voices near me.

I turned my head as I lay on the floor, and next beyond me I saw the dim light of a kerosene lamp on the floor. I soon made out that some one was kneeling by a wounded man and examining his wounds. I heard the injunction given, "Tell me honestly, doctor, what my chance is." He had been shot in the abdomen, and all too soon came the verdict, "My poor fellow you will not see another sunrise." I heard his teeth grate as he struggled to control himself, and then he spoke: "Doctor, will you do me a favor?"--"Certainly," was the response; "what is it?"--"Make a memorandum of my wife's address and write her a line telling her how and when and where I die." Out came the surgeon's pencil and memorandum book, and made note of the name and address. I did not remember them the next day, or since. I only recall it was some town in Michigan.

It appeared that the dying soldier was a man of some property, and in the clearest manner he stated his advice to his wife as to the best way to handle it. All this was noted down, and then he paused; and the surgeon, anxious, it is to be presumed, to get along to others who so sorely needed his aid, said, "Is that all, my friend?"--"No," he replied falteringly; "that is not all. I have two little boys. Oh, my God!" Just this one outburst from an agonized heart, and then, mastering his emotion, he drew himself hastily up, resting on his elbows, and said: "Tell my wife, doctor, that with my dying breath I charge her to so rear our boys that if, when they shall have come to years of manhood, their country shall need their services, even unto death, they will give them as fully as, I trust under God, their father gives his life this night." That was all. He sank back, exhausted, and the surgeon passed along. In the gray of the morning, when I roused enough to be aware of what was transpiring around me, I glanced toward him. A cloth was over his face, and soon his silent form was carried out. I repeat, I have heard the best speakers of my time, but after all these years I still {465} pronounce the dying utterances of that unknown soldier as the grandest oration on patriotism I have ever listened to.

HE DIED FOR US.

As I stir the memories of those days, there comes to mind one experience which, even after the lapse of all these years, stirs me deeply. For over three hundred years English history has been enriched by the recital of the chivalrous act of Sir Philip Sidney, who, stricken with a mortal wound at Zutphen, and being offered a drink of water, took the cup, but, when about to raise it to his lips, saw the eyes of a wounded private soldier fixed longingly thereon. With all the grace and courtliness which had at any time characterized him when treading the salon of Queen Elizabeth, the gallant knight handed him the refreshing draught, saying, "Friend, thy necessities are greater than mine, drink." The private drank, and the knight died.

I have a pride in the belief that in our four years of bloody strife we matched the most gallant, chivalrous deeds that previous history has recorded. It was my good fortune to meet and participate in the beneficence of a lineal descendant, in spirit, if not in blood, of Sir Philip Sidney, albeit he was garbed in the uniform of a private soldier of the Union army. Some of us who were lying there in the Van Pelt farmhouse, after the battle of the Second Bull Run, and who had suffered amputations, were carried out of the house and placed in a little tent in the yard. There were six of us in the tent, and we six had had seven legs amputated. Our condition was horrible in the extreme. Several of us were as innocent of clothing as the hour we were born. Between our mangled bodies and the rough surface of the board floor there was a thin rubber blanket. To cover our nakedness, another blanket. I was favored above the others in that I had a short piece of board set up slanting for a pillow. Between us and the fierce heat of that Virginia sun there was but the poor protection of the thin tent-cloth. There were plenty of flies to pester us and irritate our wounds. Our bodies became afflicted with loathsome sores, and, horror indescribable! maggots found lodging in wounds and sores, and we were helpless. Cremation made converts in those hours.

A very few attendants had been detailed to stay behind with us when it was apparent we must fall into the enemy's hands, but they were entirely inadequate in point of numbers to minister to our wants. Heat and fever superinduced an awful thirst, and our moans were for water, water, and very often there was none to give us water.

We lay there one day when there was none to answer our cry; but outside of our tent the ground was strewn with wounded men, one among whom was Christ-like in his humanitarianism. Sorely wounded in his left side, torn by a piece of a shell, he could not rise and go and get us drink, but it always seemed to us that, like his prototype of more than three centuries ago, he said in the depths of his great heart, "Their necessities are greater than mine," for he could crawl and we could not. Some little distance across the grass he saw where some apples had fallen down from the branches overhead. Every motion must have been agony to him, yet he deliberately clutched at the grass, dragged himself along until he was in reach of the apples, some of which he put in the pockets of his army blouse, and then turning, and keeping his bleeding side uppermost, he dragged himself back to our tent and handed out the apples.

As I lay nearest, I took them from him one by one and passed them along till we each had one, and I had just set my teeth in the last one he handed in, and it tasted as delicious as nectar, when, hearing an agonizing moan at my right, I turned my head on my board pillow, and saw our unknown benefactor, his hands clutched, his eyes fixed in the glare of death; a tremor shook his figure, and the eternal peace of death was his.

This was all we ever knew of him. His name and condition in life were a sealed book to us. I saw that he was unkempt of hair, unshaven of beard; his clothes were soiled with dirt and stained with blood--not at all such a figure as you would welcome in your parlor or at your dinner table; but this I thought as I gazed at the humble tenement of clay from which the great soul had fled, that in that last act of his he had exhibited so much of the purely Christ-like attribute in the effort to reach out and help poor suffering humanity, that in the last day when we shall be judged for what we have been and not for what we may have pretended to have been, I had rather take that man's chance at the judgment bar of God than that of many a gentleman in my circle of acquaintance of much greater pretensions.

AN INCIDENT OF GETTYSBURG.[1]

[Footnote 1: The account here given of this interesting incident is taken from an article by Capt. T. J. Mackey, of the Confederate army, recently published in _McClure's Magazine_.]

Though never a war was fought with more earnestness than our own late war between the North and the South, never a war was marked by more deeds of noble kindness between the men, officers and privates, of the contending sides. Serving at the front during the entire war as a captain of engineers of the Confederate army, many such deeds came under my own personal attention, and many have been related to me by eye-witnesses. Here is one especially worthy of record:

The advance of the Confederate line of battle commenced early on the morning of July 1, 1863, at Gettysburg. The infantry division commanded by Major-Gen. John B. Gordon, of Georgia, was among the first to attack. Its objective point was the left of the Second Corps of the Union army. The daring commander of that corps occupied a position so far advanced beyond the main line of the Federal army, that, while it invited attack, it placed him beyond the reach of ready support when the crisis of battle came to him in the rush of charging lines more extended than his own. The Confederate advance was steady, and it was bravely met by the Union troops, who for the first time found themselves engaged in battle on the soil of the North, which until then had been virgin to the war. It was "a far cry" from Richmond to Gettysburg, yet Lee was in their front, and they seemed resolved to welcome their Southern visitors "with bloody hands to hospitable graves." But the Federal flanks rested in air, and, being turned, the line was badly broken, and, despite a bravely resolute defence against the well-ordered attack of the Confederate veterans, was forced to fall back.

{466} [Illustration: CONFEDERATE INTRENCHMENTS ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF NEW HOPE CHURCH, GA. (From a War Department photograph.)]

Gordon's division was in motion at a double quick, to seize and hold the vantage ground in his front from which the opposing line had retreated, when he saw directly in his path the apparently dead body of a Union officer. He checked his horse, and then observed, from the motion of the eyes and lips, that the officer was still living. He at once dismounted, and, seeing that the head of his wounded foeman was lying in a depression {467} in the ground, placed under it a near-by knapsack. While raising him at the shoulders for that purpose, he saw that the blood was trickling from a bullet-hole in the back, and then knew that the officer had been shot through the breast. He then gave him a drink from a flask of brandy and water, and, as the man revived, said, while bending over him, "I am very sorry to see you in this condition. I am General Gordon. Please tell me who you are. I wish to aid you all I can."

The answer came in feeble tones: "Thank you, general. I am Brigadier-General Barlow, of New York. You can do nothing for me; I am dying." Then, after a pause, he said, "Yes, you can. My wife is at the headquarters of General Meade. If you survive the battle, please let her know that I died doing my duty."

General Gordon replied: "Your message, if I live, shall surely be given to your wife. Can I do nothing more for you?"

After a brief pause, General Barlow responded: "May God bless you! Only one thing more. Feel in the breast pocket of my coat--the left breast--and take out a packet of letters."

As General Gordon unbuttoned the blood-soaked coat, and took out the packet, the seemingly dying soldier said: "Now please take out one, and read it to me. They are from my wife. I wish that her words shall be the last I hear in this world."

Resting on one knee at his side, General Gordon, in clear tones, but with tearful eyes, read the letter. It was the missive of a noble woman to her worthy husband, whom she knew to be in daily peril of his life, and with pious fervor breathed a prayer for his safety, and commended him to the care of the God of battles. As the reading of the letter ended, General Barlow said: "Thank you. Now please tear them all up. I would not have them read by others."

General Gordon tore them into fragments and scattered them on the field "shot-sown and bladed thick with steel." Then, pressing General Barlow's hand, General Gordon bade him good-by, and, mounting his horse, quickly joined his command.

He hastily penned a note on the pommel of his saddle, giving General Barlow's message to his wife, but stated that he was still living, though seriously wounded, and informing her where he lay. Addressing the note to "Mrs. General Barlow, at General Meade's headquarters," he handed it to one of his staff, and told him to place a white handkerchief upon his sword, and ride in a gallop toward the enemy's line, and deliver the note to Mrs. Barlow. The officer promptly obeyed the order. He was not fired upon, and, on being met by a Union officer who advanced to learn his business, he presented the note, which was received and read, with the assurance that it should be delivered instantly.

Let us turn from Gettysburg to the capital, Washington, where, eleven years later, General Gordon held with honor, as now, a seat as senator of the United States, and was present at a dinner party given by Orlando B. Potter, a representative in Congress from the State of New York.

Upon Mr. Potter's introducing to him a gentleman with the title of General Barlow, General Gordon remarked: "Are you a relative of the General Barlow, a gallant soldier, who was killed at Gettysburg?"

The answer was: "I am the General Barlow who was killed at Gettysburg, and you are the General Gordon who succored me!" The meeting was worthy of two such brave men--every inch American soldiers.

I should add, that, on receiving her husband's note, which had been speedily delivered, Mrs. Barlow hastened to the field, though not without danger to her person, for the battle was still in progress. She soon found her husband, and had him borne to where he could receive surgical attendance.

Through her devoted ministrations he was enabled to resume his command of the "Excelsior Brigade," and add to the splendid reputation which it had achieved under General Sickles, its first commander.

AN INTERESTING INCIDENT.

It was a curious fact during the war, that, however savage and hostile the armies and the troops might be in action, there was a certain friendly relation subsisting between individuals on the {468} opposing sides, and even between special commands. The semi-intercourse between the picket lines is a familiar story; it was based principally on an agreement that the popping over of an occasional poor devil who happened to be exposed was not compensated for by any material military gain, so the pickets were generally suffered to perform their lonesome vigil without being shot like squirrels. But there was also a touch of the common humanity in this intercourse, which went beyond mere military conventions. A pleasant episode of warfare in Tennessee marked the kindly relation that sometimes was established between regiments. The Third Ohio Regiment were among the prisoners after a certain engagement, and when they entered a Tennessee town, on their way to the prisons in Richmond, they were visited, through curiosity, by a number of the Fifty-fourth Virginia, who wanted to see how the Yankees liked it to be hungry and tired and hopeless. The melancholy picture that met their gaze was enough to touch their hearts, and it did so. They ran back to their camp, and soon returned reinforced by others of their regiment, all bringing coffee (and kettles to boil it in), corn-bread, and bacon; and with these refreshments, which were all they had themselves, they regaled the hungry prisoners, mingling with them and doing all they could to relieve their distress, and the next morning the prisoners departed on their weary way, deeply grateful for the kindness of their enemies, and vowing never to forget it. It was not long before the opportunity came to them to show that they remembered it. In due time they were exchanged, and, returning to service, they found themselves encamped near Kelly's Ferry, on the Tennessee River. When Missionary Ridge was stormed, a lot of prisoners were taken from the Confederates, and among the number was the Fifty-fourth Virginia, and they were marched nine miles to Kelly's Ferry. It happened that at the landing there were some of the Third Ohio, and they asked what regiment this was. The answer, "The Fifty-fourth Virginia," had a most surprising effect on them. They left the spot on the run, and rushing up to their camp they shouted out to the boys, "The Fifty-fourth Virginia is at the ferry!" If they had announced the appearance of a hostile army in force, they could not have started up a greater or a quicker activity in the camp. The men ran about like mad, loaded themselves up with every eatable thing they could lay their hands on--coffee, bacon, sugar, beef, preserved fruits, everything--and started with a yell for the ferry, where they surrounded and hugged the Virginians like so many reunited college-mates, and spread before them the biggest feast they had seen since the Old Dominion seceded from the Union.

THE "SULTANA" DISASTER.

The Mississippi steamer _Sultana_ called at Vicksburg, April 25, 1865, on her journey from New Orleans to St. Louis, receiving on board nineteen hundred and sixty-four Union prisoners from Columbia, Salisbury, Andersonville, and elsewhere, who had been exchanged in regular manner, or set free through the surrender or flight of their jailers.

Being anxious to proceed North, the poor fellows gave little heed to the fact that the _Sultana_ was already carrying a heavy load of passengers and freight, and that workmen were busy repairing her boilers as she lay at the wharf. So great was the swarm that when they came to lie down for sleep every foot of available space on all the decks, and even the tops of the cabins and the wheel-house, was occupied by a soldier wrapped in his blanket, and making light of his uncomfortable berth in anticipation of a speedy arrival home.

From Vicksburg the _Sultana_ steamed to Memphis, and there took on coal, leaving the wharf at one A.M. on the 27th. The next news of her received at that port came from the lips of survivors snatched from the rushing current of the river. When about eight miles above Memphis, one of her boilers had blown up, with frightful effect. To add to the horror, the woodwork around the engines had been set on fire by the accident, and the steamer burned to the water's edge, compelling all who had been spared by the explosion to leap overboard for safety.

The force of the explosion hurled hundreds of the sleeping soldiers into the air, killing many, mangling others; while others again, terribly scalded, fell into the water and were swallowed up by the resistless tide, never again to rise. The few survivors {469} who had escaped all these perils finally reached the Arkansas shore, which, owing to the unusual high waters, was a long distance from the channel.

Among the soldiers on board were thirty commissioned officers, of whom only three were rescued. The dead at the scene of the accident numbered fifteen hundred, nearly all of them soldiers belonging to Western States. The heaviest loss in any one regiment fell to the One Hundred and Fifteenth Ohio, which numbered eighty-three victims on the list. The One Hundred and Second Ohio counted seventy, and the Ninth Indiana cavalry was represented by seventy-eight.

A catastrophe of similar character, not quite so appalling in results, had occurred on the Atlantic coast only three weeks previous. The steamer _General Lyon_, from Wilmington, bound for Fortress Monroe, burned to the water's edge off Cape Hatteras, on the night of March 31st. Out of five hundred on board, over four hundred of them soldiers, only twenty escaped. Among the lost were eleven officers and one hundred and ninety-five men belonging to the Fifty-sixth Illinois, with nearly two hundred released Union prisoners.

THE HERO OF BURNSIDE'S MINE.

In the ranks of the Forty-eighth Pennsylvania, the regiment which placed the powder magazine of Burnside's mine, at Petersburg, underneath the doomed Confederate fort, was a sergeant known as Harry Reese.

He had been the first to propose the mine seriously. Permission to construct it having been granted at headquarters, he, with a score of his fellows, all experienced coal miners, set to work with their ordinary camp tools, and, under cover of night, in one month excavated, concealed from the enemy's eyes, eighteen thousand cubic feet of earth, creating a tunnel nearly six hundred feet long. On two occasions Reese, by personal effort, saved the enterprise from failure; once when the shaft opened into a bed of quicksand, and again when the army engineers through faulty measurements located the powder-chamber outside the limits of the fort to be destroyed, instead of directly under it.

Finally came the hour for the explosion. The troops stood ready to charge into the breach, and the long fuse was ignited by Reese, who, with a group of his mining companions, stayed at the mouth of the shaft, awaiting the result. Generals and aids anxiously studied their watch-dials, that would show the flight of moments beyond the appointed time. Grant telegraphed from army headquarters over his special field-wire: "Is there any difficulty in exploding the mine?" and again: "The commanding general directs, if your mine has failed, that your troops assault at once."

The mine had failed. Daylight was spreading over the trenches, and the enemy were alert even to the point of expecting an assault.

Reese drew his soldier's clasp dirk, and, turning to a comrade, said: "I am going into the mine. If it don't blow up, give me time to reach the splice in the fuse, and then come to me with fresh fuse and twine." He creeps into the shaft with resolute caution, following up the tell-tale streak of black ashes, which shows that the fuse has surely burned its way toward the powder-cells in the chamber beyond. It may reach there any second, {470} and then! At last, just ahead of him, the brave miner sees a stretch of fuse outwardly uncharred. A fine thread of flame may be eating through its core, nevertheless, one spark of which is enough to set the terrible train ablaze. Reese knows this, for a man accustomed to handling powder cannot for an instant lose consciousness of its quick and awful violence when the connecting flash is struck. He knows his peril, yet presses on, and with his blade severs the fuse beyond the charred streak. Danger for that moment is over.

The delay had been caused by a splice wound so tightly that the fire could not eat through freely. He made a new short fuse, relit the flashing string, and escaped to the mouth of the tunnel, just as the magazine chambers exploded, spreading a mass of ruins where the armament of Lee had stood grim and threatening in the morning light but a moment before.

The fort thus destroyed was occupied by Capt. R. G. Pegram's Virginia battery, and the trenches--which means the system of walled ditches, bomb proofs, and other shelter for troops on both sides of the battery--by the Eighteenth and Seventy-second South Carolina infantry. These men, numbering several hundred, lay sound asleep, all except the sentinels. The battery and the sections of work adjoining were hoisted into the air, and two hundred and eighty-eight officers and soldiers were buried in the débris, while their comrades who escaped injury fled in confusion, leaving a defenceless gap in the line twenty or thirty rods wide, into which Burnside's corps charged without a moment's hesitation.

The Union advance was promptly met by a sharp fire from the Confederate reserves, and the fight which ensued in the breach is known as the battle of the Crater.

THE ARKANSAS BOY SPY.

When the Confederate army abandoned Little Rock in 1863, one of its military operators, David O. Dodd, stayed back and lived some time in the Union lines. He was a lad of seventeen. Shortly after the town was Unionized he left there, ostensibly to go to Mississippi, but returned in a few days and lingered about in his old haunts. A second time he passed out of the picket lines, unrestrained until he reached the outposts, where the guards, searching him, discovered some curious pencil marks in a memorandum book carried openly in his pocket.

He was arrested, and at headquarters the marks were shown to be telegraphic dots and dashes that gave a full description of the Union fortifications and the distribution of forces about the city. His act was that of a spy, and his life was the forfeit. Having admitted that he had accomplices, he was offered pardon if he would betray them. A last appeal was made at the scaffold by his friends and relatives, but he firmly put the temptation aside and signalled the executioner to do his duty. Then the drop fell, carrying him and his secret to another world. My informant, who witnessed the hanging, declared that the lad met his doom with the coolness of a stoic, while the spectators, chiefly soldiers, wept like children.

WOMEN WHO DARED AND SUFFERED FOR THE FLAG.

War calls women to weep, not to take up the sword in battle, yet to such lengths does their devotion run that the place of danger finds them on hand unasked. On the Union side in the civil war military heroines came from every class and from every stage of civilization. Of those who put on uniforms the record is hard to trace, but their dead and mangled forms on countless battlefields proved that the American amazon was no myth. Not to speak of these, there were women who openly faced all the terrors and hardships of war. Michigan seems to have eclipsed the record in this class of heroines.

When the Second Michigan volunteers started for the seat of war in 1861, Annie Etheridge, a young woman just out of her teens, volunteered as daughter of the regiment. Her dress was a riding habit, and she wore a military cap as a badge of her calling. A pair of pistols rested in her holsters for use in emergencies. Annie served four years, part of the time with the Fifth Michigan, and always in the Army of the Potomac. Her service was the relief of wounded on the field, which means under fire. General Kearny presented her with the "Kearny badge" for her devotion to his wounded at Fair Oaks. Once while bandaging a wound for a New York boy a Confederate shell killed him under her hands.

Though not called on to fight, Annie had spirit enough to make a battle hero. At Chancellorsville she went to the outposts with the skirmishers, and was ordered back to the lines. The enemy was already shooting at the pickets. On the way back she passed a line of low trenches where the Union soldiers lay concealed, and spurning the thought that the affair must end in a retreat, she turned her face to the front and called out to the men, "Boys, do your duty and whip those fellows!" A hearty cheer was the response, and "those fellows" poured a volley into the hidden trenches. Annie was hit in the hand, her skirt was riddled, and her horse wounded. At Spottsylvania she turned a party of retreating soldiers back to their place in the ranks by offering to lead them into battle. No one but a miscreant could spurn that call.

The other Michigan heroines were Bridget Divers, of the First cavalry, an unknown in the Eighth and in the Twenty-fifth regiments who passed as Frank Martin, and Miss Seelye who served in the Second as Frank Thompson. "Thompson" and "Martin" wore men's disguise. Bridget Divers was the wife of a soldier, and performed deeds of daring in bringing wounded from the field, under fire.

Two Pennsylvania regiments carried women into battle in men's disguise--Charles D. Fuller, of the Forty-sixth, and Sergt. Frank Mayne, of the One Hundred and Twenty-sixth. "Mayne" was killed. The Fifth Rhode Island Regiment produced a heroine in Mrs. Kady Brownell, wife of a sergeant. She is credited with having been a skilful shooter with a rifle and also a brave color-bearer in time of danger. The wives of officers were accorded great freedom of action at the front, and many a gallant and noble deed was called forth by devotion to husband first and incidentally to the cause. Madame Turchin, wife of the Illinois general, went into battle and rescued wounded men, besides cheering and inspiring the soldiers of the general's command. Gen. Francis C. Barlow, of New York, was accompanied by his wife, who attended the wounded on the field. This devoted woman served at the front until 1864, and died of fever contracted in the hospitals at Petersburg.

A MODERN ANDRÉ.

Lieut. S. B. Davis, of the Confederate service, probably came the nearest of any officer on either side to playing the rôle of the André of the Rebellion. He did not, it is true, lose his life in an attempt to negotiate for the surrender of an enemy's fortress, as did the noted British spy; but he was sentenced to be {471} hanged for complicity, under disguise, in negotiations between citizens of the United States and Confederate officials in Richmond and in Canada for the delivery of the States of Ohio, Illinois, and Indiana, and certain military positions on the lakes, into the power of organized and armed emissaries of the South, led by Confederate officers.

Lieutenant Davis was but twenty-four, a native of Delaware, a State that did not secede, and entered into the part he played on his own motion; that is, he volunteered to act as a messenger between Richmond and Canada. He was provided with a British passport under an assumed name, had his hair dyed, and put on citizen's dress. The regular route of communication between Richmond and Canada was by steamer, viâ Bermuda; but for some reason never yet explained Davis went from Richmond to Baltimore, and from there to Columbus, O., where he certainly communicated with people of suspicious character at the time.

From Columbus he went to Detroit, and from there to Windsor, Canada, where he met the notorious Jacob Thompson and other Confederate emissaries.

There were many points about the young man to give him peculiar fitness for his work; there was also a fatally weak spot in his harness. He was well bred and of prepossessing appearance. A native of Delaware, he could mingle with Northern people without arousing suspicion. He was a distant relative of Jefferson Davis, and had the respect and confidence of the Confederate chieftains. Too young to have attained prominence before the war, and never having served in the regular army, his personality was not likely to be known on the Union side of the lines. But he had served a long time on the staff of General Winder, commander at Andersonville prison, where many Union soldiers had seen him often.

Fortune favored him in his daring enterprise until his arrival, on what proved to be his final trip southward from Canada, at Newark, O. He was travelling in the passenger cars of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad; had passed safely through Columbus and other public centres most dangerous to him.

At Newark two Union soldiers entered the car where the disguised Confederate sat. They had been in Andersonville prison, and after eying their fellow passenger for a time one ex-prisoner whispered in his comrade's ear, "There is Lieutenant Davis, of Andersonville!"

Both arose, and, approaching Davis, one called out bluntly to the stranger, "Aren't you Lieutenant Davis?"

"No, sir; my name is Stewart," was the prompt reply.

"Yes, you are Lieutenant Davis, and you had charge of the prison when I was in Andersonville," persisted the soldier. A crowd of passengers quickly surrounded the parties, and seeing that his stubborn cross-questioners would not be convinced, the Confederate yielded, and said:

"Well, boys, you've got me. I am Lieutenant Davis."

The provost marshal of Newark was summoned, and the prisoner was speedily hurried to the common jail. A search of his person failed to disclose any secret papers, and he was left in the main room with a number of ordinary county criminals. Soon after the military had left the place the stranger was seen to remove from inside his coat-lining a number of despatches and drawings upon white silk, and to burn them in the fire which was blazing in an open stove. The link that would have removed all doubt as to his purposes and condemned him to the gallows was thus hopelessly destroyed; but a court martial held that his presence in the Union lines in disguise constituted the offence for which the penalty is death. When the evidence was all in and the case clear against him, the prisoner rose, facing the officers and witnesses, every one wearing the colors of his mortal enemies, and some of them scarred with the conflicts in which he and his own had been pitted against them. There was no reason to expect mercy, and he did not ask it.

After stating his case briefly, he looked over his accusers and judges, and said: "I do not fear to die. I am young and would like to live, but I deem him unworthy who should ask pity of his foemen. Some of you have wounds and scars; I can show them, too. You are serving your country as best you may; I have done the same. I can look to God with a clear conscience; {472} and whenever the chief magistrate of this nation shall say, 'Go,' whether upon the scaffold or by the bullets of your soldiery, I will show you how to die."

The sentence was that he be confined in the military prison at Johnson Island, in Lake Erie, until the 17th of February, 1865, then "to be hung by the neck until he is dead."

During the night of the 16th of February, when all preparations had been made, and Davis had, as he believed, beheld the last sunset on earth, a reprieve came from President Lincoln. He was placed in a dungeon at Fort Warren, Boston Harbor, and before the reprieve ended the war closed. Then the authorities permitted him to go free. To the end he kept the secret of his mission to Ohio.

REMINISCENCES OF THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN.

BY GENERAL JOHN T. MORGAN, C. S. A.

The battle of Bull Run--the first battle of Manassas--was a great and decided victory for the Confederate army, and aroused the pride and enthusiasm of the Southern people as no other event ever did. Yet there is a painful recollection in every mind that it was the first act in an awful drama, the first great field upon which the hosts of the North and the South measured arms and opened the series of great tragedies of the civil war, in which millions of men perished.

If that had been the last battle of the war instead of the first, and if it had been accepted as the final arbitrament of the questions that could not have been settled otherwise, I would still recall its incidents with pride, but also with sadness. But the glory of it would have scarcely compensated for its sacrifices.

I doubt if any humane person can recall without pain even the most gratifying victories of a great war in which he was a participant. The excessive toil and anxiety are only made tolerable, and the suffering and waste of human life can only be endured, for the sake of our interest in the cause that demands such victims for the altar of sacrifice.

Yet war, like other intense passions, often becomes a consuming desire, as the hope of victory verges upon the recklessness of despair. My earlier impressions of civil war may be illustrated by a few personal incidents connected with the first battle of Manassas.

With the exception of a few "regulars" in either army, every experience of actual warfare was then entirely new to the soldiery, and not a man in any position failed to seriously question his heart as to its fortitude in the approaching crisis of battle. None, perhaps, were about to march upon that great and open field who did not overdraw the pictures of danger and distress that he would be called to meet. It was a relief from this excessive tension that enabled men of highly nervous condition to quiet their emotions and to engage in battle like trained veterans, when its realities were found to be less harrowing than they expected.

It is probable that no two armies of trained soldiers ever confronted each other with a less daunted spirit than the hundred thousand proud men who, in almost full view of the extended lines of each army, marched steadily into action across the open fields about Manassas. For many miles the view was uninterrupted.

The approaches of the martial hosts, in line after line of supporting columns, under the fire of artillery that covered the field with the bluish haze of battle, were marked with an air of firm defiance, which spoke of the cause at stake, and of a contest for principles which, as they were felt to be involved, commanded the devotion of each army. It was not a flag or a government for which either army was fighting, but a dispute about rights under the Constitution of a common country. War under such circumstances is always desperate, and too often becomes ferocious. When men make war as political or religious partisans, they often forget the honorable zeal of the true soldier and lend themselves as the instruments of vengeance. We had not then reached that stage of hostility. On this field there met in battle many thousands of the best and most {473} enlightened men of a great nation, all Americans, and all inspired with the love of a common country, and many in the opposing ranks were of the same families. They were gallant and chivalric men, and their fierce onsets left the field thickly strewn with dead and wounded. Almost every man who fell had some personal history in which whole communities felt a proud and grateful interest. The survivors in such armies could not be cruel.

As the incidents of the battle were narrated in the camps of the victors, and by parties returning from the pursuit of McDowell's shattered forces, it was clearly manifested that it was political antagonism and not sectional animosity that had brought on the war.

When the death or capture of some leading Federal officer was announced, respectful silence was observed and personal sympathy was manifested with sincerity; but, when the capture of a leading politician or of a member of Congress was announced, the wildest rejoicing was heard in the crowds of delighted listeners.

That was a grand field of battle, and it was occupied by armies that were all the more eager for war because they did not then realize its terrible significance.

Few strategic surprises were possible on such a field, and none were attempted. An approaching column could be seen, as it was headed toward a point of attack, when it was miles away; and the clouds of dust, rolling up in vast volume, indicated its strength. Then, suddenly, arose the opposing cloud, and presently both were illumined with flashes of artillery, and roared with the spiteful din of musketry, in their quickened dash, and were clamorous with hoarse cheers from thousands of sturdy men. A few crashing volleys; the swaying back and forth of the lines, as repeated charges were met and repulsed--and the field was won and lost by some impulse, in which all seemed to share at the same moment, that was as much a mystery to the victors as it was to the vanquished. It was what is called "a square stand-up fight" in an open field, without military defences; and the result was a notable victory of the soldiers engaged, not a victory won by superior strategy or gallant leadership. The battle ended late in the afternoon, and by nightfall, the successful army was in bivouac, while the beaten army was in flight for Washington, unpursued. The rain began to fall in floods as the night came on, adding to the misery of the wounded of both armies, who were treated with every possible kindness. To a novice in warfare, the battlefield was a fearful scene, as the bright morning of the next day dawned upon it, with the dead scattered over it, lying beside dead horses, broken artillery, muskets, wagons, and shattered trees. It was the silent reproach of havoc and death upon the fierce injustice of a resort to war as the arbiter of differences of opinion as to civil government, which had been exaggerated to such awful conclusions, and could not, after all, be in any wise settled by such means. Peace and wiser judgment finally came out of the thousand succeeding conflicts, but were not created by them. They were only made possible by the failure of war to convince anybody of errors.

Taking a half-dozen cavalry and a brother officer along, we moved, at daylight, under orders given to me to follow and reconnoitre the army that had moved off in column at the close of the battle, but was supposed to have camped not far away. We soon found that nothing remained of that army but the evidences of panic which had overtaken almost every command. The wounded had, in some cases, been left to their own resources, and, at bridges that were broken, there were piled in wild confusion, dead men and horses, guns and caissons, wagons and sutlers' goods, tents, muskets, drums, ambulances, spring wagons, and the lighter vehicles that had brought the picnic parties from Congress to witness the consummation of their "policy." It was to them a sudden and frightful adjournment, _sine die_.

As we rode over the field, gray-haired fathers and mothers from the nearer homes in Virginia were already there looking for their dead or wounded sons. All was silent save the moanings of the sufferers, and the subdued chirrup of little wrens as they sought for their mates. The birds seemed as sad as the venerable seekers for their loved ones. The dead seemed to preserve their personal characteristics, and the tense strain of the conflict was settled upon their features. In most cases, death on the battlefield is instantaneous and painless, and the latest thoughts seem to linger on the faces of the dead.

As we rode along the farm lanes where the rail fences had {474} been torn away as they were crossed and recrossed by charging columns, we found, not widely separated, the victims of the bayonet. Several had fallen in this close combat.

One of them was a very handsome man, clean-shaven, and dressed in a neat uniform as a private in the Federal army. He was about thirty years old. On his shirt bosom there was a single spot of blood. He sat almost erect, his back propped in a corner of the fence, with his blue eyes wide open, and his mouth was firmly closed, and his gun and hat near by him. His form and face were majestic, and his pallid brow, with the hair gracefully swept back, was a splendid picture of the serenity of death, almost as expressive as life, and the most earnest plea for peace that I had ever contemplated.

On the opposite side of the lane was a Confederate soldier--an Irishman--whom a ball had killed. Evidently he had received a mortal wound, and had sat down to die in an angle of the fence, and rested on a small log he found there. He was also leaning against the fence, which held him up in a position that seemed very life-like. His hat was on his head and sheltered his face which was slightly bowed to the front. In his mouth he held his pipe, with a very short stem, in a way that was quite natural and suggestive of his race. His wound was in the thigh, and while he was bleeding to death, he had doubtless sought comfort in his pipe.

A beautiful photograph was in the side pocket of the Federal soldier, near the fatal blood-spot on his shirt bosom. We thought we could readily trace his dying thoughts to that dear friend. We left him with his friend's picture where we found it, to find, in another spot, a mile distant, a living proof that it is love and not hatred that survives death, and commands the heart's last tribute of devotion.

The body of an oak tree that was heavily clad in foliage had been cut through with cannon shot until the top had fallen over and formed a thick mass of branches and leaves on the ground. There was a copse of undergrowth near by, into which we saw a man dart like an arrow as we rode up. From the tree-top came low moanings, as from one who feared discovery, and yet could not stifle his voice when spasms of pain returned upon him. It proved to be a field officer of a New Jersey or Delaware regiment, whose thigh had been crushed by a cannon shot in the battle.

His servant had laid him in the tree-top, with leaves and a horse blanket for a bed, and was guarding him. When the servant saw us halt, he came out timorously from his hiding, and was weeping and pleading for the life of his master. I said to him, "What do you take us for?"--"But be you not rebels?" he said. I answered, "We are called rebels, and yet your kindred."--"Be you Christian men?" I said that was our faith. "And you will be merciful to the major?" I replied, "I am a major, and have no ill-will toward majors, even if they are enemies." The major, hearing our conversation, invited us to dismount and come to him. We went to his hiding-place, and found him pale with loss of blood, and in great anguish.

Seeing that we were Confederate officers, he said, "I wish to give you my parole."--"We need none from you," I replied; "our friendship has been broken, and renewed very suddenly by your wounds, it seems, and you are our guest."--"Are you Virginians?"--"No, we are Alabamians, and this is our home, as it is yours, for we are all Americans."--"A home I have invaded," he said, "and I don't know why. I wish this war had never occurred; but I longed for it, in my thoughtless anger, and here I must meet death."

He said, "I am a lawyer."--"So are we," I replied. "I am a Mason."--"So are we," I replied. "Thank God," he exclaimed, "I may yet see my wife before I die. She came to Washington with me, and I parted with her at Longbridge, three days ago, as we crossed the Potomac."

I assured him that I would inform his wife of his condition, through the first flag of truce that went over the lines, and that she should have safe-conduct to join him. Taking our hands, he prayed God to bless us; and turning to his servant, whose astonishment was now greater than his fear, he said, "Sam, get me the bread and the canteen, and give me some whiskey. Maybe if I eat and take a stimulant, I may live to see her." It was a hard, rough crust of corn-bread, which he munched with energy, and the canteen contained a few spoonfuls of common whiskey, a part of which he drank. I said, "This business is urgent, and we will gallop to your lines with your message."--"Yes," he said, "a race for a life, that has but one hope, that I may see her--my wife--before I die." We soon met a surgeon at a field hospital--a few blankets on which wounded soldiers were stretched--and he went at once to the sufferer in the tree-top. The message was despatched, and the loving wife came to find that, after one last kiss from his conscious lips, she was a widow indeed.

The glory of our victory was saddened to my heart by the reflection that the blood that enriched the fields was American, and was poured out from hearts that were alike and equally patriotic. Yet the sacrifice was voluntary, and may have been needed to demonstrate again the devotion of the American people to what they believe to be their duty in the defence of their liberties as they understand them, and in the enforcement of our laws as they are written.

This grand result, which seems to be perfectly assured, and this demonstration of American manhood is worth all that it has cost.

The battle of Bull Run was the last political battle of the civil war. It set Congress to passing vain resolutions to stop the war, and to reconcile the people and the States. After that awful event, war for the sake of war, and not for peace or justice, swept over the land and raged with unheard-of fury, until the sheer power of numbers prevailed, and peace came from exhaustion, but not from a broken spirit.

{475} [Illustration: PICKING UP THE WOUNDED, FIFTY-SEVENTH NEW YORK AMBULANCE CORPS.]

{476}

THE MEASURE OF VALOR.

So far as valor is to be measured by dangers voluntarily encountered and losses sustained, the American citizen may justly compare with pride the incidents and statistics of the great civil war with those of any modern conflict in Europe. In our chapter on Gettysburg the close resemblance between that battle and Waterloo--in the numbers engaged on each side and the losses--has been pointed out. When comparison is made of the losses of regiments and other organizations, in particular engagements, the larger figures are with the Americans. The charge of the British Light Brigade, at Balaklava, in 1854, has been celebrated in verse by Tennyson and other poets, and is alluded to over and over again as if it were the most gallant achievement in modern warfare. Every time that some old soldier chooses to say he is one of the survivors of that charge, the newspapers talk about him as a wonder, report his words and publish his portrait. Yet that exploit sinks into insignificance when compared with the charge of the First Minnesota Regiment at Gettysburg. The order for the charge at Balaklava was a blunder, blunderingly obeyed; it accomplished nothing, and the total loss to the Light Brigade was thirty-seven per cent. At Gettysburg, on the second day, General Hancock observed a gap in the National line, and saw that Wilcox's Confederate Brigade was pushing forward with the evident intention of passing through it. He looked about for troops to close the gap, and saw nothing within immediate reach but the First Minnesota, though others could be brought up if a little time could be gained. Riding up to Colonel Colville, he said: "Do you see those colors?" pointing at the Confederate flag. "Take them!" Instantly the regiment dashed forward and charged the brigade; there was a short, fierce fight, and the regiment lost eighty-two per cent. of its numbers in killed and wounded, but the onset of the enemy was stayed, the desired time was gained, and even the colors were captured and brought off. In the Franco-German war of 1870 the heaviest loss sustained by any German regiment in a single battle was a fraction more than forty-nine per cent. In the National service during the civil war there were sixty-four regiments that sustained a loss of over fifty per cent. in some single action, and in the Confederate service there were fifty-three, making a hundred and seventeen American regiments that, in this respect, surpassed the German regiment of highest record.

{477} [Illustration: COLONEL G. T. ROBERTS. Killed at Baton Rouge, La.]

There were thirteen battles in which one side or the other (in most instances each) lost more than 10,000 men, taking no account of the great capitulations like Fort Donelson and Vicksburg. And in the least of these nearly 1,900 men were shot dead on the field. The greatest losses on both sides were sustained at Gettysburg. Next in order (aggregating the losses on both sides[1]) come Spottsylvania, 36,800; the Wilderness, 35,300; Chickamauga, 34,600; and Chancellorsville, 30,000. But each of these battles occupied more than one day. The bloodiest single day was September 17, 1862, at the Antietam, where the National army lost 2,108 men killed and 9,549 wounded, with about 800 missing. The Confederate loss cannot be stated with exactness. General Lee's report gives only consolidated figures for the whole campaign, including Harper's Ferry and South Mountain, as well as the main battle; and these figures fall short by a thousand (for killed and wounded alone) of those given by his division commanders, who also report more than 2,000 missing. On the other hand, McClellan says that "about 2,700 of the enemy's dead were counted and buried upon the battlefield of Antietam," while "a portion of their dead had been previously buried by the enemy." Averaging these discrepant figures, and bearing in mind that there were no intrenchments at the Antietam, we may fairly put down the losses as equal on the two sides, which would give a total, on that field in one day, of 4,200 killed and 19,000 wounded. The number of prisoners was not large.

[Footnote 1: As there are discrepancies in all the counts, only the round numbers are given here.]

The heaviest actual loss that fell upon any one regiment in the National service in a single engagement was that sustained by the First Maine heavy artillery (acting as infantry) in the assault on the defences of Petersburg, June 18, 1864, when 210 of its men were killed or mortally wounded, the whole number of casualties being 632 out of about 900 men. This regiment was also the one that suffered most in aggregate losses in battle during the war, its killed and wounded amounting to 1,283. Over nineteen per cent. were killed. Another famous fighting regiment was the Fifth New Hampshire infantry, which had 295 men killed or mortally wounded in battle, the greatest loss, 69, occurring at Cold Harbor, June 1, 1864. Its first colonel, Edward E. Cross, was killed while leading it in the thickest of the second day's fight at Gettysburg. Another was the One Hundred and Forty-first Pennsylvania, which lost three-quarters of its men at Gettysburg, and at Chancellorsville lost 235 out of 419. At the second Bull Run (called also Manassas), the One Hundred and First New York lost 124 out of 168; the Nineteenth Indiana lost 259 out of 423; the Fifth New York lost 297 out of 490; the Second Wisconsin lost 298 out of 511; and the First Michigan lost 178 out of 320. At Antietam the Twelfth Massachusetts lost 224 out of 334. It had lost heavily also at Manassas, where Col. Fletcher Webster (only son of Daniel Webster) was killed at its head. It lost, altogether, 18 officers in action. Another famous Massachusetts regiment was the Fifteenth, which at Gettysburg lost 148 men out of 239, and at the Antietam, 318 out of 606, and, out of a total enrolment of 1,701, lost during the war in killed and wounded 879. Another Massachusetts regiment distinguished by hard fighting was the Twentieth, which General Humphreys compliments as "one of the very best in the service." Its greatest loss, in killed (48), was at Fredericksburg, where it was in the brigade that crossed the river in boats, to clear the rifle-pits of the sharp-shooters that {478} were making it impossible to lay the pontoon bridges. This regiment had the task of clearing the streets of the town, and as it swept through them it was fired upon from windows and house-tops. The other regiments that participated in this exploit were the Seventh Michigan, the Nineteenth Massachusetts, and the Eighty-ninth New York. Some nameless poet has made it the subject of one of the most striking bits of verse produced during the war:

They leaped in the rocking shallops, Ten offered, where one could go, And the breeze was alive with laughter, Till the boatmen began to row. In silence how dread and solemn! With courage how grand and true! Steadily, steadily onward The line of the shallops drew. 'Twixt death in the air above them, And death in the waves below, Through ball and grape and shrapnel They moved, my God, how slow! And many a brave, stout fellow, Who sprang in the boats with mirth, Ere they made that fatal crossing Was a load of lifeless earth. And many a brave, stout fellow, Whose limbs with strength were rife, Was torn and crushed and shattered-- A helpless wreck for life.

The Twentieth lost 44 men killed at Gettysburg, 38 at Ball's Bluff, 36 in the Wilderness, 20 at Spottsylvania, and 20 at the Antietam. During its whole service it had 17 officers killed, including a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, two majors, an adjutant, and a surgeon. The story that Dr. Holmes tells in "My Hunt after the Captain" relates his adventures in the track of this regiment just after the battle of the Antietam.

Among the Vermont regiments, the one that suffered most in a single action was the Eighth, which at Cedar Creek lost sixty-eight per cent. of its numbers engaged. The First Heavy Artillery from that State, acting most of the time as infantry, with a total enrolment of 2,280, lost in killed and wounded 583. The Second Infantry, with a total enrolment of 1,811, lost 887. Its heaviest loss was at the Wilderness, where, out of 700 engaged, 348 (about half) were disabled, including the colonel and lieutenant-colonel killed. And a week later, at Spottsylvania, nearly half of the remainder (123) were killed or wounded. The Fourth Infantry, at the Wilderness, went into the fight with fewer than 600 men, and lost 268, including seven officers killed and ten wounded. In the fight at Savage Station, the Fifth Vermont walked over a regiment that had thrown itself on the ground and refused to advance any farther, pressed close to the enemy, and was taken by a flank fire of artillery that struck down 44 out of the 59 men in one company. Yet the regiment held its ground, faced about, and silenced the battery. It lost 188 men out of 428.

In the second and third years of the war, several regiments of heavy artillery were raised. It was said that they were intended only to garrison the forts, and there was a popular belief that their purpose was to get into the service a large number of men who were not quite willing to subject themselves to the greater risks incurred by infantry of the line. But after a short period of service as heavy artillery, most of them were armed with rifles and sent to the front as infantry, and many of them ranked among the best fighting regiments, and sustained notable losses. The First Maine and First Vermont have been mentioned already. The Second Connecticut heavy artillery, the first time it went into action, stormed the intrenchments at Cold Harbor with the bayonet, and lost 325 men out of 1,400, including the colonel. At the Opequan it lost 138, including the major and five line officers; and at Cedar Creek, 190. The Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, and Fourteenth New York heavy artillery regiments all distinguished themselves similarly. The Seventh, during one hundred days' service in the field as infantry (Grant's overland campaign), lost 1,254 men, only a few of whom were captured. The Eighth lost 207 killed or mortally wounded, at Cold Harbor alone, with more than 200 others wounded. Among the killed were eight officers, including Col. Peter A. Porter (grandson of Col. Peter B. Porter, of the war of 1812), who fell in advance of his men. Its total loss in the war was 1,010 out of an enrolment of 2,575. The Ninth had 64 men killed at Cedar Creek, 51 at the Monocacy, 43 at Cold Harbor, and 22 at the Opequan. Its total loss in killed and wounded was 824 in an enrolment of 3,227. This regiment was commanded, a part of the time, by Col. William H. Seward, Jr. The Fourteenth had 57 men killed in the assault on Petersburg, 43 at Cold Harbor, 30 in the trenches {479} before Petersburg, 26 at Fort Stedman, 22 at the mine explosion, and 16 at Spottsylvania. It led the assault after the mine explosion, and planted its colors on the captured works. Its total loss in killed and wounded was 861, in an enrolment of 2,506. In comparing these with other regiments, it must be remembered that their terms of service were generally shorter, because they were enlisted late in the war. The Fourteenth, for instance, was organized in January, 1864, which gave it but fifteen months of service, and it spent its first three months in the forts of New York harbor; so that its actual experience in the field covered somewhat less than a year. In that time one-third of all the men enrolled in it were disabled; and if it had served through the war at this rate, nothing would have been left of it. This explanation applies equally to several other regiments.

The State of New York furnished one-sixth of all the men called for by the National Government. Of Fox's "Three Hundred Fighting Regiments" (those that had more than 130 men killed during the war), New York has 59--nine more than its proportion. The Fifth Infantry, known as Duryea's Zouaves, met with its heaviest loss, 297 out of 490, at Manassas, and lost 162 at Gaines's Mill. This regiment was commanded at one time by Gouverneur K. Warren, afterward famous as a corps commander, and General Sykes pronounced it the best volunteer regiment that he had ever seen. The Fortieth had 238 men killed in battle, and lost in all 1,217. Its heaviest losses were in the Seven Days' battles, 100; Fredericksburg, 123; Gettysburg, 150; and the Wilderness, 213. The Forty-second lost 718 out of 1,210 enrolled, its heaviest loss, 181, being at the Antietam. The Forty-third lost 138 at Salem Church, and 198 in the Wilderness, its colonel, lieutenant-colonel, and major all being killed there. The Forty-fourth, originally called "Ellsworth Avengers," was composed of picked men from every county in the State. It lost over 700 out of 1,585 enrolled. At Manassas, out of 148 men in action, it lost 71. It was a part of the force that seized Little Round Top at Gettysburg. The Forty-eighth was raised and commanded by a Methodist minister, James H. Perry, D.D., who had been educated at West Point. He died in the service in 1862. The regiment participated in the assault on Fort Wagner, and lost there 242 men. At Olustee it lost 244. Its total loss was 859 out of an enrolment of 2,173. The Forty-ninth had two colonels a lieutenant-colonel, and a major killed in action. The Fifty-first New York and Fifty-first Pennsylvania carried the stone bridge at the Antietam, the New York regiment losing 87 men, and the Pennsylvanians 120. The Fifty-second New York lost 122 men at Fair Oaks, 121 in the siege of Petersburg, and 86 at Spottsylvania. It was a German regiment, and two Prussian officers on leave of absence fought with it as line officers at Spottsylvania and were killed in the terrible struggle at the bloody angle. The Fifty-ninth went into the battle of the Antietam with 321 men, fought around the Dunker Church, and lost 224, killed or wounded, including nine officers killed. The Sixty-first lost 110 killed or wounded at Fair Oaks, out of 432; 106 in the siege of Petersburg, and 79 at Glendale. Francis C. Barlow and Nelson A. Miles were two of its four successive colonels. One company was composed entirely of students from Madison University. The Sixty-third, an Irish regiment, lost 173 men at Fair Oaks, 98 at Gettysburg, and 59 at Spottsylvania. The Sixty-ninth, another Irish regiment, lost more men killed and wounded than any other from New York. At the Antietam, where it contended at Bloody Lane, eight color-bearers were shot. The Seventieth lost 666 men in a total enrolment of 1,462. Its heaviest loss, 330, was at Williamsburg. Daniel E. Sickles was its first colonel. The Seventy-sixth lost 234 men out of 375 in thirty minutes at Gettysburg. In the Wilderness it lost 282. The Seventy-ninth was largely composed of Scotchmen. It lost 198 men at Bull Run, where Colonel Cameron (brother of the Secretary of War) fell at its head. At Chantilly six color-bearers were shot down, when General Stevens (who had been formerly its colonel) seized the flag and led the regiment to victory, but was shot dead. The Eighty-first lost 215 men at Cold Harbor, about half the number engaged. The Eighty-second, at the Antietam, lost 128 men out of 339, and at Gettysburg 192 out of 305, including its colonel. The Eighty-third lost 114 men at the Antietam, 125 at Fredericksburg, 115 in the Wilderness, and 128 at Spottsylvania. The Eighty-fourth, a Brooklyn zouave regiment, lost 142 men at Bull Run, 120 at Manassas, and 217 at Gettysburg, where, with the Ninety-fifth, it captured a Mississippi brigade. The Eighty-sixth lost 96 men at Po River, and over 200 in the Wilderness campaign. The Eighty-eighth, an Irish regiment, lost 102 men at the Antietam, and 127 at Fredericksburg. The Ninety-third lost 260 men in the Wilderness, out of 433. The Ninety-seventh at Gettysburg lost 99 men, and captured the colors and 382 men of a North Carolina regiment. The One Hundredth lost 176 men at Fair Oaks, 175 at Fort Wagner, and 259 at Drewry's Bluff. The One Hundred {480} and Ninth lost 140 men at Spottsylvania, and 127 in the assault on Petersburg. Benjamin F. Tracy, Secretary of the Navy in President Harrison's cabinet, was its first colonel. The One Hundred and Eleventh lost 249 men at Gettysburg, out of 390, and again at the Wilderness it lost more than half of the number engaged. The One Hundred and Twelfth lost 180 men at Cold Harbor, including its colonel killed, and it lost another colonel in the assault on Fort Fisher. The One Hundred and Twentieth, at Gettysburg, lost 203 men, including seventeen officers killed or wounded. The One Hundred and Twenty-first, at Salem Church, lost 276 out of 453, and at Spottsylvania it lost 155. On both occasions it was led by Emory Upton, afterward general. Its total of killed and wounded in the war was 839, out of an enrolment of 1,426. The One Hundred and Twenty-fourth lost at Chancellorsville 204 out of 550, and at Gettysburg 90 out of 290. The One Hundred and Twenty-sixth lost at Gettysburg 231 men, including the colonel, who was killed, and another colonel was killed before Petersburg. The One Hundred and Thirty-seventh lost 137 at Gettysburg, where it formed a part of the brigade that held Culp's Hill. At Wauhatchie it lost 90, and in the Battle above the Clouds 38 more. The One Hundred and Fortieth lost 133 men at Gettysburg, where it formed part of the force that occupied Little Round Top at the critical moment, and helped to drag up Hazlett's battery. Its colonel was killed in this struggle. In the Wilderness it lost 255, and at Spottsylvania another colonel and the major were killed. The One Hundred and Forty-seventh was in the brigade that opened the battle of Gettysburg, and there lost 301 out of 380 men. The One Hundred and Forty-ninth was one of the regiments that saw service both at the East and the West. It lost 186 men at Chancellorsville, and at Lookout Mountain lost 74 and captured five flags. In the Atlanta campaign it lost 136 out of 380 men. The One Hundred and Sixty-fourth, an Irish regiment, participated in the assault at Cold Harbor and carried the works in its front, but at the cost of 157 men, including the colonel and six other officers killed. The One Hundred and Seventieth, another Irish regiment, lost 99 men at the North Anna and 136 in the early assaults on Petersburg. Its total of killed and wounded during the war was 481 out of 1,002 enrolled.

Thus runs the record to the end. These regiments are not exceptional so far as the State or the section is concerned. Quite as vivid a picture of the perils and the heroism of that great struggle could have been presented with statistics concerning the troops of any other States. Looking over all the records, one discovers no difference in the endurance or fighting qualities of the men from different States. For instance, the Eighth New Jersey lost, at Chancellorsville, 125 men out of 268; and in the same battle the Twelfth New Jersey lost 178; while at Gettysburg less than half of the regiment made a charge on a barn filled with sharp-shooters, and captured 99 men. The Fifteenth New Jersey had 116 men killed, out of 444, at Spottsylvania. The Eleventh Pennsylvania, at Fredericksburg, lost 211 killed or wounded out of 394, and in its whole term of service it had 681 men disabled in an enrolment of 1,179; and the Twenty-eighth lost 266 men at the Antietam. The Forty-ninth Pennsylvania had 736 men disabled, in an enrolment of 1,313, its heaviest loss being at Spottsylvania, where it participated in the charge at the bloody angle and lost 260 men, including its colonel and lieutenant-colonel killed. The Seventy-second lost 237 at the Antietam, and 191 at Gettysburg, where it was in that part of the line aimed at by Pickett's charge. The Eighty-third Pennsylvania suffered heavier losses in action than any other regiment, save one, in the National service. At Gaines's Mill it lost 196, at Malvern Hill 166, at Manassas 97, and at Spottsylvania 164. At Gettysburg it formed part of the force that seized Little Round Top. Its total losses were 971 in an enrolment of 1,808. The Ninety-third, like a regiment previously mentioned, was raised and commanded by a Methodist minister. It rendered specially gallant service at Fair Oaks, the Wilderness, and Spottsylvania. The One Hundred and Nineteenth made a gallant charge at Rappahannock Station, capturing guns, flags, and many prisoners, and losing 43 men. It fought at the bloody angle of Spottsylvania, and there and in the Wilderness lost 231 out of 400, including two {481} regimental commanders killed. The One Hundred and Fortieth was in the wheat-field at Gettysburg, and there lost 241 men out of 589. Its total killed and wounded numbered 732 in an enrolment of 1,132.

Delaware, a slave State, contributed its quota to the armies that fought for the Union. At the Antietam its First Regiment lost 230 men out of 650. At Gettysburg it was among the troops that met Pickett's charge.

Maryland, another slave State, contributed many good troops to the Union cause. Its Sixth Regiment lost 174 men at Winchester, and 170 in the Wilderness.

The Seventh West Virginia lost 522 men killed or wounded, in an enrolment of 1,008.

The Seventh Ohio lost, at Cedar Mountain, 182 out of 307 men. At Ringgold all its officers except one were either killed or wounded. At Chickamauga the Fourteenth lost 245 men out of 449. At Jonesboro it carried the works in front of it by a brilliant charge, but at heavy loss. The Twenty-third, at South Mountain and Antietam, lost 199 men. Two of its four successive colonels were William S. Rosecrans and Rutherford B. Hayes.

It was not in the famous battles alone that heavy regimental losses were sustained. At Honey Hill, an action seldom mentioned, the Twenty-fifth Ohio had 35 men killed, with the usual proportion of wounded; and at Pickett's Mills, hardly recorded in any history, the Eighty-ninth Illinois lost 154.

The Fifth Kentucky, at Stone River, lost 125 out of 320 men, and at Chickamauga 125. It was commanded by Lovell H. Rousseau, an eminent soldier. Its total loss was 581, in an enrolment of 1,020. The Fifteenth, at Perryville, lost 196 men, including all its field officers killed. Its "boy colonel," James B. Forman, was killed at Stone River. Its total killed and wounded numbered 516, in an enrolment of 952.

The Fourteenth Indiana lost 181 men at the Antietam, out of 320. At Gettysburg it formed part of the brigade that annihilated the Louisiana Tigers. The Nineteenth suffered, during its whole term of service, a loss of 712 killed and wounded, in an enrolment of 1,246. The Twenty-seventh lost 616 from an enrolment of 1,101.

{482} [Illustration: SCENE OF MAJOR-GENERAL JAMES B. McPHERSON'S DEATH, ATLANTA, GA., JULY 22, 1864. (From a War Department photograph.)]

The Eleventh Illinois lost, at Fort Donelson, 339 men out of 500. It was commanded by W. H. L. Wallace, who was {483} afterward a brigadier-general and fell at Shiloh. The Twenty-first lost 303 men at Stone River, and 238 at Chickamauga. Its first colonel was Ulysses S. Grant. The Thirty-first lost 176 at Fort Donelson. Its first colonel was John A. Logan. The Thirty-sixth lost 212 at Stone River. The Fortieth lost 216 at Shiloh, and gained special credit for keeping its place in the line after its ammunition was exhausted. The Fifty-fifth lost 275 at Shiloh out of 512. The Ninety-third lost 162 at Champion Hill, and 89, including its colonel, at Mission Ridge.

The First Michigan lost, at Manassas, 178 out of 240 men, including the colonel and fifteen other officers. The Fourth lost 164 at Malvern Hill, including its colonel. At Gettysburg it was in the wheat-field, and lost 165 men. Here a Confederate officer seized the regimental colors and was shot by the colonel, who the next moment was bayoneted by a Confederate soldier, who in his turn was instantly killed by the major. This regiment had three colonels killed in action. The Twenty-fourth, at Gettysburg, lost 363 men, including the colonel and twenty-one other officers, out of 496.

The Second Wisconsin lost 112 men at the first Bull Run and 298 at the second, including its colonel killed; and the Seventh had a total loss in killed and wounded of 1,016 from an enrolment of 1,630; and the Twenty-sixth lost 503 from an enrolment of 1,089.

The Fifth Iowa lost 217 men at Iuka, and the Seventh, at Belmont, lost 227 out of 410. At Pea Ridge the Ninth lost 218 out of 560. In the assault on Vicksburg the Twenty-second lost 164, and was the only regiment that gained and held any portion of the works. Of a squad of twenty-one men that leaped inside and waged a hand-to-hand fight, nineteen were killed.

The Eleventh Missouri had a total loss of 495 from an enrolment of 945. Its heaviest loss was in the assault on Vicksburg, 92. Joseph A. Mower, afterward eminent as a general, was at one time its colonel. The Twelfth Missouri lost 108 in the assault on Vicksburg, and the Fifteenth lost 100 at Chickamauga. General Osterhaus was the first colonel of the Twelfth.

The First Kansas lost 106 men killed and wounded at Wilson's Creek.

The losses in the cavalry were not so striking as those of the infantry, because they were seldom so heavy in any one engagement. But the cavalry were engaged oftener, sometimes in a constant running fight, and the average aggregate of casualties was about the same as in other arms of the service.

In the artillery there were occasionally heavy losses when the enemy charged upon a battery and the gunners stood by their pieces. At Iuka, Sands's Ohio battery had 105 men, including drivers. It was doing very effective service when two Texas regiments charged it, and 51 of its men were killed or wounded. It was captured and recaptured. Seeley's battery at Chancellorsville lost 45 men, and at Gettysburg 25. Campbell's lost 40 at the Antietam, and Cushing's 38 at Gettysburg. The Fifth Maine battery lost 28 at Chancellorsville, 28 at Cedar Creek, and 23 at Gettysburg.

The colored regiments, which were not taken into the service till the third year of the war, suffered quite as heavily as the white ones. They lost over 2,700 men killed in battle (not including the mortality among their white officers), and, with the usual proportion of wounded, this would make their total of casualties at least 12,000.

The regimental losses in the Confederate army were at least equal to those in the National, and were probably greater, for the reason that for them "there was no discharge in that war." Every organization in the National service was enlisted on a distinct contract to serve for a definite term--three months, nine months, two years, or three years--and when the term expired, the men were sent home and mustered out. But when a man was once mustered into the Confederate army, he was there till the end of the war, unless he deserted or was disabled. But no records are available from which complete statistics can be compiled. And in May, 1863, General Lee issued an order forbidding commanders to include in their reports of casualties in battle any wounds except such as disabled the men for further service, and also forbidding them to mention the number of men engaged in an action. This makes any mathematical comparison with the casualties in the National armies impossible; and without information as to the number engaged, the percentage of loss, which is the true test, cannot be computed. Still, there were a considerable number of regiments the statistics of which were recorded and have been preserved. The heaviest loss known in any Confederate regiment was that of the Twenty-sixth North Carolina, at Gettysburg. It went into the fight with somewhat more than 800 men, and lost 588 killed or wounded, besides 120 missing. One company went into the first day's battle with three officers and 84 men, and all but one man were either killed or wounded. Another North Carolina regiment, the Eleventh, went in on the first day with three officers and 38 men, and two of the officers and 34 men were killed or wounded. At Fair Oaks, the Sixth Alabama lost 373 out of 632, and the Fourth North Carolina, 369 out of 687. At Gaines's Mill the First South Carolina lost 319 out of 537; and at Stone River the Eighth Tennessee lost 306 out of 444. {484} The heaviest percentage of loss, so far as known, was that of the First Texas, at the Antietam, 82 per cent. In that same battle the Sixteenth Mississippi lost 63 per cent.; the Twenty-seventh North Carolina, 61 per cent.; the Eighteenth and Tenth Georgia, each 57 per cent.; the Seventeenth Virginia, 56 per cent.; the Fourth Texas, 53 per cent.; the Seventh South Carolina, 52 per cent.; the Thirty-second Virginia, 45 per cent.; and the Eighteenth Mississippi, 45 per cent. Some of the losses at Chickamauga were equally appalling. The Tenth Tennessee lost 68 per cent.; the Fifth Georgia, 61 per cent.; the Second and Fifteenth Tennessee, 60 per cent.; the Sixteenth Alabama and the Sixth and Ninth Tennessee, each 58 per cent.; the Eighteenth Alabama, 56 per cent.; the Twenty-second Alabama, 55 per cent.; the Twenty-third Tennessee, 54 per cent.; the Twenty-ninth Mississippi and the Fifty-eighth Alabama, each 52 per cent.; the Thirty-seventh Georgia and the Sixty-third Tennessee, each 50 per cent.; the Forty-first Alabama, 49 per cent.; the Twentieth and Thirty-second Tennessee, each 48 per cent.; and the First Arkansas, 45 per cent. And these losses include very few prisoners. At Gettysburg, besides the regiments already mentioned, the heaviest losers among the Confederates were: the Second North Carolina, 64 per cent.; the Ninth Georgia, 55 per cent.; the Fifteenth Georgia, 51 per cent.; and the First Maryland, 48 per cent. At Shiloh the Sixth Mississippi lost 70 per cent. At Manassas the Twenty-first Georgia lost 76 per cent.; the Seventeenth South Carolina, 67 per cent.; the Twenty-third South Carolina, 66 per cent.; the Twelfth South Carolina and the Fourth Virginia, each 54 per cent.; and the Seventeenth Georgia, 50 per cent. At Stone River the Eighth Tennessee lost 68 per cent.; the Twelfth Tennessee, 56 per cent., and the Eighth Mississippi, 47 per cent. At Mechanicsville the Forty-fourth Georgia lost 65 per cent. At Malvern Hill the Third Alabama lost 56 per cent.; the Forty-fourth Georgia, 46 per cent.; and the Twenty-sixth Alabama, 40 per cent.

Some writers have asserted that the Confederate troops were better led than the National, and that this is proved by the greater loss of commanding officers. But the statistics do not bear out any such assertion. On each side one army commander was killed--Gen. J. B. McPherson and Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston. On each side three corps commanders were killed--National, Generals Mansfield, Reynolds, and Sedgwick; Confederate, Jackson, Polk, and A. P. Hill. On the National side fourteen division commanders were killed, and on the Confederate, seven. In comparing losses of brigade commanders, it should be explained, that in the Confederate service, as soon as a man was put in command of a brigade he was made a brigadier-general, but the National government was more chary of rank, and often left a colonel for a long time at the head of a brigade. Counting such colonels who {485} actually fell at the head of their brigades as brigadiers, we find that eighty-five brigade-commanders were killed on the National side, and seventy-three on the Confederate.

On any other subject, the figures that crowd this chapter would be "dry statistics," but when we remember that every unit here presented represents a man killed or seriously injured, a citizen lost to the Republic--and not only that, but its loss of the sons that should have been born to these slaughtered men--every paragraph acquires a deep, though mournful interest. We may well be proud of American valor, but we should also feel humiliated by the supreme folly of civil war.

* * * * *

NOTE.--For the statistics of this chapter, we are largely indebted to Col. William F. Fox's admirable compilation of "Regimental Losses in the American Civil War" (Albany, 1893).

LAST DAYS OF THE CONFEDERACY.[1]

BY GEN. JOHN B. GORDON. C. S. A.

[Footnote 1: This article was dictated by Gen. John B. Gordon to the late Henry W. Grady, and prepared by him for publication. It appeared originally in the Philadelphia _Times_. It is reprinted here by permission, after revision and correction by General Gordon.]

I will give you from my personal knowledge the history of the struggles that preceded the surrender of General Lee's army, the causes that induced that surrender--as I had them from General Lee--the detailed account of the last assault ever made upon the Federal lines in pursuance of an offensive purpose, and a description of the last scenes of the bloody and terrible civil war. This history has never been published before. No official reports, I believe, were ever made upon the Confederate side; for after the battle of Hare's Hill, as the attack upon Fort Steadman was called, there was not an hour's rest until the surrender. From the 25th of March, 1865, until the 9th day of April, my men did not take their boots off, the roar of cannon and the rattle of musketry was scarcely stilled an instant, and the fighting and marching was continuous. Hence no report of these operations was ever made.

You will remember the situation of affairs in Virginia about the first of March, 1865. The Valley campaign of the previous summer, which was inaugurated for the purpose of effecting a diversion and breaking the tightening lines about Richmond and Petersburg, and from which so much had been expected, had ended in disaster. Grant had massed an enormous army in front of Petersburg and Richmond, and fresh troops were hurrying to his aid. Our army covered a line of over twenty miles, and was in great distress. The men were literally starving. We were not able to issue even half rations. One-sixth of a pound of beef a day, I remember, was at one time the ration of a portion of the army, and the men could not always get even that. I saw men often on their hands and knees, with little sticks, digging the grains of corn from out of the tracks of horses, and washing it and cooking it. The brave fellows were so depleted by the time Grant broke our lines, that the slightest wound often killed them. A scratch on the hand would result in gangrene and prove fatal. The doctors took me to the hospitals and showed me men with a joint on their fingers shot off, and their arms gangrened up to the elbows. "The men are starved," they said, "and we can do little for them."

A TERRIBLE SITUATION.

The sights that I saw as I walked among these poor, emaciated, hungry men, dying of starved and poisoned systems, were simply horrible. Our horses were in no better condition; many of them were hardly able to do service at all. General Lee had gone in person into Petersburg and Richmond, and begged the citizens to divide what little they had with his wretched men. The heroic people did all that they could. Our sole line of supplies was the railroad running into North Carolina and penetrating into "Egypt," as we called Southwest Georgia, which was then the provision ground for our armies. Such was the situation. My corps (Stonewall Jackson's old corps), after severe and heroic work in the Valley campaign, had been ordered back to Petersburg and placed upon the right wing of the army. I had general instructions to protect the flank of the army, prevent General Grant from turning it, and, above all, to protect the slender line of road from which solely we received our scanty supplies. We were almost continually engaged in fighting, making feints, and protecting our skirmish lines, which the enemy were feeling and pressing continually. Before daylight on the morning of the 2d of March, 1865, General Lee sent for me. I mounted my horse at once and rode to the general's headquarters. I reached the house in which he was staying at about four o'clock in the morning. As I entered the room to which I had been directed, I found General Lee alone. I shall never forget the scene. The general was standing at the fireplace, his head on his arm, leaning on the mantelpiece--the first time I ever saw him looking so thoroughly dejected. A dim lamp was burning on a small centre-table. On the table was a mass of official reports. General Lee remained motionless for a moment after I opened the door. He then looked up, greeted me with his usual courtesy, motioned me to the little table, and, drawing up a chair, sat down. I sat opposite him. "I have sent for you, General Gordon," he said, "to make known to you the condition of our affairs and to confer with you as to what we had best do." The night was fearfully cold. The fire and lamp both burned low {486} as General Lee went on to give me the details of the situation. "I have here," he said, "reports sent in from my officers to-night. I find, upon careful examination, that I have under my command, of all arms, hardly forty-five thousand men. These men are starving. They are already so weakened as to be hardly efficient. Many of them have become desperate, reckless, and disorderly as they have never been before. It is difficult to control men who are suffering for food. They are breaking open mills, barns, and stores in search of food. Almost crazed from hunger, they are deserting from some commands in large numbers and going home. My horses are in equally bad condition. The supply of horses in the country is exhausted. It has come to be where it is just as bad for me to have a horse killed as a man. I cannot remount a cavalryman whose horse dies. General Grant can mount ten thousand men in ten days, and move around your flank. If he were to send me word to-morrow that I might move out unmolested, I have not enough horses to move my artillery. He is not likely to send this message, however; and yet," smiling, "he sent me word yesterday that he knew what I had for breakfast every morning. I sent him word that I did not think this could be so, for if he did know he would surely send me something better. But, now, let us look at the figures. I have, as I have shown you, not quite 45,000 men. My men are starved, exhausted, sick. His are in the best condition possible. But beyond this there is Hancock, at Winchester, with a force of probably not less than 18,000 men. To oppose this force I have not a solitary vidette. Sheridan, with his terrible cavalry, has marched almost unmolested and unopposed along the James, cutting the railroads and canal. Thomas is approaching from Knoxville with a force I estimate at 30,000, and to oppose him I have a few brigades of badly disciplined cavalry, amounting to probably 3,000 in all. General Sherman is in North Carolina, and, with Schofield's forces, will have 65,000 men. As to what I have to oppose this force, I submit the following telegram from General Johnston. The telegram reads: 'General Beauregard telegraphed you a few days ago that, with Governor Vance's Home Guards, we could carry 20,000 men into battle. I find, upon close inspection, that we cannot muster over 13,000 men.'" (This, General Gordon said, was, as nearly as he could recollect, General Johnston's telegram.) "So there is the situation. I have here, say, 40,000 men able for duty, though none of my poor fellows are in good condition. They are opposed directly by an army of 160,000 strong and confident men, and converging on my little force four separate armies, numbering, in the aggregate, 130,000 more men. This force, added to General Grant's, makes over a quarter million. To prevent these from uniting for my destruction there are hardly 60,000 men available. My men are growing weaker day by day. Their sufferings are terrible and exhausting. My horses are broken down and impotent. I am apprehensive that General Grant may press around my flank and cut our sole remaining line of supplies. Now, general," he said, looking me straight in the face, "what is to be done?" With this he laid his paper down and leaned back in his chair.

WHAT IS TO BE DONE?

I replied: "Since you have done me the honor to ask my opinion, I will give it. The situation as you portray it is infinitely worse than I had dreamed it was. I cannot doubt that your information is correct. I am confident of the opinion, therefore, that one of two things should be done, and at once. We must either treat with the United States Government for the best terms possible, or we should concentrate all our strength at one point of Grant's line--selecting some point on the right bank of the Appomattox--assault him, break through his lines, destroy his pontoons, and then turn full upon the flank of his left wing, sweep down it and destroy it if possible, and then join General Johnston in North Carolina by forced marches, and, combining our army with his, fall upon Sherman."

"And what then?"

"If we beat him or succeed in making a considerable battle, then treat at once for terms. I am forced to the conclusion, from what you say, sir, that we have no time for delay."

"So that is your opinion, is it?" he asked, in a tone that sent the blood to my face. I ought to have remembered that it was a way that General Lee had of testing the sincerity of a man's opinion by appearing to discredit it.

"It is, sir," I replied; "but I should not have ventured it, had it not been asked; and since you seem to differ from the opinion I hold, may I ask you what your opinion is?"

At once his manner changed, and, leaning forward, he said, blandly: "I entirely agree with you, general."

"Does President Davis and the Congress know these facts? Have you expressed an opinion as to the propriety of making terms, to President Davis or the Congress?"

General Lee replied to this question: "General Gordon, I am a soldier. It is my duty to obey orders."

"Yes," I replied; "but if you read the papers, General Lee, you can't shut your eyes to the fact that the hopes of the Southern people are centred in and on your army, and if we wait until we are beaten and scattered {487} into the mountains before we make an effort at terms, the people will not be satisfied. Besides, we will simply invite the enemy to hunt us down all over the country, devastating it wherever they go."

General Lee said nothing to this for some time, but paced the floor in silence, while I sat gloomily enough, as you may know, at the fearful prospect. He had, doubtless, thought of all I said long before he sent for me. I don't wish you to understand that I am vain enough to believe for a moment that anything I said induced him to go to Richmond the next day. As I said before, he had probably decided on his course before he sent for me, and only feigned a difference of opinion or hesitation in order to see with what pertinacity I held my own. He did go to Richmond, and on his return sent for me again, and in reply to my question as to what had occurred, he said:

"Sir, it is enough to turn a man's hair gray to spend one day in that Congress. The members are patriotic and earnest, but they will neither take the responsibility of acting nor will they clothe me with authority to act. As for Mr. Davis, he is unwilling to do anything short of independence, and feels that it is useless to try to treat on that basis. Indeed, he says that, having failed in one overture of peace at Hampton Roads, he is not disposed to try another."

"Then," said I, "there is nothing left for us but to fight, and the sooner we fight the better, for every day weakens us and strengthens our opponents."

It was these two conferences that led to the desperate and almost hopeless attack I made upon the 25th of March on Grant's lines at Fort Steadman and Hare's Hill, in front of Petersburg. My corps was, as I tell you, at that time on the extreme right of General Lee's army, stretching from Hatcher's Run, southward along the Boydton plank road. He proposed to transfer my corps to lines in and around Petersburg, and have me familiarize myself with the strong and weak points, if there were any _weak_ ones, on Grant's line near the bank of the Appomattox River. He ordered my command into Petersburg to replace the troops which were there. I spent a week examining Grant's lines, learning from deserters and men captured the names of the Federal officers and their commands in the front. At last I selected a point which I was sure I could carry by a night assault. I so reported to General Lee. It was in the last degree a desperate undertaking, as you will presently see; but it was the best that could be suggested--better than to stand still. Almost hopeless as it was, it was less so than the certain and rapid disintegration, through starvation and disease and desertion, of the last army we could ever organize. The point on my line from which I decided to make the assault was Colquitt's salient, which had been built by Governor Colquitt and his men and held by them, when, to protect themselves, they had to move under covered ways and sleep burrowed in the ground like Georgia gophers. I selected this point because the main lines here were closest together, being not more than two hundred yards apart, I should say, while the picket lines were so close that the Confederate, and the Federals could easily converse. By a sort of general consent the firing between the pickets nearly ceased during the day, so that I could stand upon my breastworks and examine General Grant's. It is necessary that you should know precisely the situation of the lines and forts, as I can illustrate by a rough diagram:

{488} A STRONG POSITION.

You can see at a glance how desperately strong was even this, the weakest point on Grant's line. It was close to Colquitt's salient where the fearful mine was sprung called the Crater. The whole intervening ground between Fort Steadman and Colquitt's salient, over which I had to make the assault, was raked not only by a front fire, but by flank fires from both directions from the forts and trenches of the main line, _B_. An attack, therefore, by daylight would have been simply to have the men butchered, without any possibility of success, so that nothing but a night attack was to be thought of. Between the main line of trenches and forts and the rear line of forts, _D_, was a heavy line of Federal reserves, _C_, and the rear forts were placed with such consummate engineering skill as to command any point on that portion of Grant's line which might be captured. It was, therefore, necessary to capture or break through the reserves and take the rear line of forts as well as the front. This rear line of forts was so protected by abatis in front that the whole of General Lee's army could not have stormed them by a front attack, and the only possibility of securing them was to capture them from the rear, where there was an opening. This could only be done by stratagem, if it could be done at all.

I finally submitted a plan of battle to General Lee, which he approved and ordered executed. It was briefly this: To take Fort Steadman by direct assault at night, then send a separate body of men to each of the rear forts, who, claiming to be Federals, might pass through the Federal reserves and take possession of the rear line of forts as if ordered to do so by the Federal commander; next, then to press with my whole force to the rear of Grant's main line and force him out of the trenches, destroy his pontoons, cut his telegraph wires, and press down his flank. Of course, it was a most desperate and almost hopeless undertaking, and could be justified only by our desperate and hopeless condition if we remained idle. We both recognized it as the forlornest of forlorn hopes. Let me particularize a little more. The obstructions in front of my own lines had to be removed, and removed silently, so as not to attract the attention of the Federal pickets. Grant's obstructions had to be removed from the front of Fort Steadman. These obstructions were of sharpened rails, elevated to about breast high, the other end buried deeply in the ground, the rails resting on a horizontal pole and wrapped with telegraph wire. They could not be mounted or pushed aside, but had to be cut away with axes. This had to be done immediately in front of the guns of Fort Steadman. These guns were at night doubly charged with canister, as I learned from Federal prisoners. The rush across the intervening space between the lines had to be made so silently and swiftly as to take the fort before the gunners could fire. The reserves had to be beaten or passed and the rear line of forts taken before daylight. All this had to be accomplished before my main forces could be moved across and placed in position to move on Grant's flank, or rather left wing.

THE PLAN OF ATTACK.

My preparations were these: I called on my division commanders for a detail of the bravest men in their commands. To rush over the Federal pickets and into the fort and seize the Federal guns, I selected a body of only one hundred men, with empty rifles and fixed bayonets. To precede these, to clear an opening to the fort, I selected fifty of the most stalwart and brave men I could find, and armed them with axes to cut clown the obstructions in front of the fort. They were ordered to remove my own abatis, rush upon the Federal obstructions, and cut away a brigade front. The one hundred with empty rifles and fixed bayonets were to follow immediately, and this one hundred and fifty men were not to falter or fire, but to go into Fort Steadman, if they had to do it in the face of the fire from all the forts. Immediately after these axemen and the one hundred had cleared the way and gained the fort, three other squads of one hundred each were to rush across, pass through Fort Steadman, and go pell-mell to the rear, and right through the Federal reserves, crying as they went: "The rebels have carried our lines in front, captured Fort Steadman, and we are ordered by General McLaughlin, Federal commander of Fort Steadman, to go back to the rear forts and hold them against the rebels." I instructed each commander of these last squads as to what particular fort he was to enter; and a guide, who had been raised on the ground, was placed with each of these three squads, or companies, who was to conduct them through the reserves and to the rear of the forts. If they were halted by the Federal reserves, each commander was instructed to pass himself off as one of the Federal officers whose names I had learned. I remember that I named one commander of one of the companies Lieutenant-Colonel Pendergrast, of a Pennsylvania regiment--I think that was the name and regiment of one of the Federal officers in my front. As soon as Fort Steadman should be taken, and these three bodies of one hundred men each had succeeded in entering the rear forts, the main force of infantry and cavalry were to cross over. The cavalry was to gallop to the rear, capture the fugitives, destroy the pontoons, cut down the telegraph wires, and give me constant information, while the infantry was to move rapidly down Grant's lines, attacking and breaking his division in detail, as they moved out of his trenches. Such, I say, was the plan of this most desperate and last aggressive assault ever made by the Confederate army.

General Lee had sent me, in addition to my own corps, a portion of Longstreet's corps (Pickett's division) and a portion of A. P. Hill's and a body of cavalry. During the whole night of the 24th of March I was on horseback, making preparations and disposing of troops. About four o'clock in the morning I called close around me the fifty axemen and four companies, one hundred each, of the brave men who were selected to do this hazardous work. I spoke to them of the character of the undertaking, and of the last hope of the cause, which was about to be confided to them. Around the shoulders of each man was bound a white strip of muslin, which Mrs. Gordon, who sat in a room not far distant listening for the signal gun, had prepared, as a means of recognition of each other. The hour had come, and when everything was ready I stood on the breastworks of Colquitt's salient and ordered two men to my side, with rifles, who were to fire the signal for attack. The noise of moving our own obstructions was going on and attracted the notice of a Federal picket. In the black darkness his voice rang out:

"Hullo there, Johnny Reb! what are you making all that fuss about over there?"

The men were just leaning forward for the start. This sudden call disconcerted me somewhat; but the rifleman on my right came to my assistance by calling out in a cheerful voice:

"Oh! never mind us, Yank; lie down and go to sleep. We are just gathering a little corn; you know rations are mighty short over here."

There was a patch of corn between our lines, some of it still {489} hanging on the stalks. After a few moments there came back the kindly reply of the Yankee picket, which quite reassured me. He said:

"All right, Johnny; go ahead and get your corn. I won't shoot at you."

As I gave the command to forward, the man on my right seemed to have some compunctions of conscience for having stilled the suspicions of the Yankee picket who had answered him so kindly, and who the next moment might be surprised and killed. So he called out to him:

"Look out for yourself now, Yank; we're going to shell the woods."

This exhibition of chivalry and of kindly feelings on both sides, and at such a moment, touched me almost as deeply as any minor incident of the war. I quickly ordered the two men to "Fire."

Bang! Bang! The two shots broke the stillness, and "Forward!" I commanded. The chosen hundred sprang forward, eagerly following the axemen, and for the last time the stars and bars were carried to aggressive assault.

FORT STEADMAN TAKEN.

In a moment the axemen were upon the abatis of the enemy and hewing it down. I shall never know how they whisked this line of wire-fastened obstructions out of the way. The one hundred overpowered the pickets, sent them to the rear, rushed through the gap made by the axemen up the slope of Fort Steadman, and it was ours without the firing of a single gun, and with the loss of but one man. He was killed with a bayonet. The three companies who were to attempt to pass the reserves and go into the rear forts followed and passed on through Fort Steadman. Then came the other troops pouring into the fort. We captured, I think, nine pieces of artillery, eleven mortars, and about six hundred or seven hundred prisoners, among whom was General McLaughlin, who was commanding on that portion of the Federal line. Many were taken in their beds. The prisoners were all sent across to our lines, and other troops of my command were brought to the fort. I now anxiously awaited to learn the fate of the three hundred who had been sent in companies of one hundred each to attempt the capture of the three rear forts. Soon a messenger reached me from two officers commanding two of these chosen bodies, who informed me that they had succeeded in passing right through the line of Federal reserves by representing themselves as Federals, and had certainly gone far enough to the rear for the forts, but that their guides had abandoned them or been lost, and that they did not know in what direction to move. It was afterward discovered, when daylight came, that these men had gone further out than the forts, and could have easily entered and captured them if the guides had not been lost, or had done their duty. Of course, after dawn they were nearly all captured, being entirely behind the Federal reserves.

{490} [Illustration: GENERAL ULYSSES S. GRANT.]

{491} [Illustration: MAJOR-GENERAL MATTHEW W. RANSOM, C. S. A.]

FAILURE OF THE ATTACK.

In the mean time, the few Federal soldiers who had escaped from the fort and intrenchments we had captured had spread the alarm and aroused the Federal army. The hills in the rear of Grant's lines were soon black with troops. By the time it was fairly daybreak the two forts on the main line flanking Fort Steadman, the three forts in the rear, and the reserves, all opened fire upon my forces. We held Fort Steadman, and the Federal intrenchments to the river, or nearly so. But the guides had been lost, and as a consequence the rear forts had not been captured. Failing to secure these forts, the cavalry could not pass, the pontoons could not be destroyed, and the telegraph wires were not cut. In addition to these mishaps, the trains had been delayed, and Pickett's division and other troops sent me by General Lee had not arrived. The success had been brilliant so far as it had gone, and had been achieved without loss of any consequence to our army; but it had failed in the essentials to a complete success or to a great victory. Every hour was bringing heavy reinforcements to the Federals and rendering my position less and less tenable. After a brief correspondence with General Lee, it was decided to withdraw. My loss, whatever it was, occurred in withdrawing under concentrated fire from forts and infantry. The fighting over the picket lines and main lines from this time to the surrender was too incessant to give me an opportunity to ascertain my loss. It was considerable; and although I had inflicted a heavy loss upon the enemy, I felt, as my troops reëntered Colquitt's salient, that the last hazard had been thrown, and that we had lost.

I will give you here the last note I ever received from General Lee, and one of the last he ever wrote in his official capacity. It is as follows:

4.30 P.M., HEADQUARTERS, _March_ 24, 1865.

GENERAL: I have received yours of 2.30 P.M., and telegraphed for Pickett's division, but I do not think it will reach here in time; still we will try. If you need more troops, one or both of Heth's brigades can be called to Colquitt's salient, and Wilcox's to the Baxter road. Dispose of the troops as needed. I pray that a merciful God may grant us success, and deliver us from our enemies.

Very truly, R. E. LEE, _General_.

GEN. J. B. GORDON.

P. S.--The cavalry is ordered to report to you at Halifax Road and Norfolk Railroad (iron bridge) at three A.M. to-morrow. W. F. Lee to be in vicinity of Monk's Corner at six A.M.

R. E. L.

THE DEATH STRUGGLE.

I had very little talk with General Lee after our withdrawal. I recognized that the end was approaching, and of course he did. It will be seen from his semi-official note, quoted above, that he became very much interested in the success of our movement. While he had known as well as I that it was a desperate and forlorn hope, still we had hoped that we might cut through and make a glorious dash down the right and seek Johnston in North Carolina. The result of the audacious attempt that had been made upon his line, and its complete success up to the time that it was ruined by a mischance, was to awaken General Grant's forces into more aggressive measures. A sort of respite was had, for a day, after the night attack on Fort Steadman, and then the death-struggle began. Grant hurried his masses upon our starved and broken-down veterans. His main attack was made upon our left, A. P. Hill's corps. Grant's object was to turn our flanks, and get between us and North Carolina. The fighting was fearful and continuous. It was a miracle that we held our lines for a single day. With barely six thousand men I was holding six miles of line. I had just one thousand men to the mile, or about one to every two yards. Hill and Longstreet were in not much better trim, and some part of this thin line was being forced continually. The main fight was on my line and Hill's, as General Longstreet was nearer Richmond. Heavy masses of troops were hurled upon our line, and we would have to rally our forces at a certain point to meet the attack. By the time we would repel it, we would find another point attacked, and would hurry to defend that. Of course, withdrawing men from one part of the line would leave it exposed, and the enemy would rush in. Then we would have to drive them out and reëstablish our line. Thus the battle raged day after day. Our line would bend and twist, and swell and break, and close again, only to be battered against once more. Our people performed prodigies of valor. How they endured through those terrible, hopeless, bloody days, I do not know. They fought desperately and heroically, although they were so weakened through hunger and work that they could scarcely stand upon their feet and totter from one point of assault to another. But they never complained. They fought sternly, grimly, as men who had made up their minds to die. And we held our lines. Somehow or other--God only knows how--we managed day by day to wrest from the Federals the most of our lines. Then the men, dropping in the trenches, would eat their scanty rations, try to forget their hunger, and snatch an hour or two of sleep.

THE EVACUATION OF PETERSBURG.

Our picket lines were attacked somewhere every night. This thing went on till the morning of the 2d of April. Early that day it became evident that the supreme moment had come. The enemy attacked in unusually heavy force, and along the line of mine and Hill's corps. It became absolutely necessary to {492} concentrate a few men at points along my line, in order to make a determined resistance. This left great gaps in my line of breastworks, unprotected by anything save a vidette or two. Of course, the Federals broke through these undefended passes, and established themselves in my breastworks. At length, having repulsed the forces attacking the points I defended, I began reëstablishing my line. My men fought with a valor and a desperate courage that has been rarely equalled, in my opinion, in military annals. We recaptured position after position, and by four o'clock in the afternoon I had reëstablished my whole line except at one point. This was very strongly defended, but I prepared to assault it. I notified General Lee of my purpose and of the situation, when he sent me a message, telling me that Hill's lines had been broken, and that General Hill himself had been killed. He ordered, therefore, that I should make no further fight, but prepare for the evacuation which he had determined to make that night. That night we left Petersburg. Hill's corps, terribly shattered and without its commander, crossed the river first, and I followed, having orders from General Lee to cover the retreat. We spent the night in marching, and early the next morning the enemy rushed upon us. We had to turn and beat them back. Then began the most heroic and desperate struggle ever sustained by troops--a worn and exhausted force of hardly four thousand men, with a vast and victorious army, fresh and strong, pressing upon our heels! We turned upon every hilltop to meet them, and give our wagon-trains and artillery time to get ahead. Instantly they would strike us, we invariably repulsed them. They never broke through my dauntless heroes; but after we had fought for an hour or two, we would find huge masses of men pressing down our flanks, and to keep from being surrounded I would have to withdraw my men. We always retreated in good order, though always under fire. As we retreated we would wheel and fire, or repel a rush, and then stagger on to the next hill-top, or vantage ground, where a new fight would be made. And so on through the entire day. At night my men had no rest. We marched through the night in order to get a little respite from fighting. All night long I would see my poor fellows hobbling along, prying wagons or artillery out of the mud, and supplementing the work of our broken-down horses. At dawn, though, they would be in line ready for battle, and they would fight with the steadiness and valor of the Old Guard.

THE LAST COUNCIL OF WAR.

This lasted until the night of the 7th of April. The retreat of Lee's army was lit up with the fire and flash of battle, in which my brave men moved about like demigods for five days {493} and nights. Then we were sent to the front for a rest, and Longstreet was ordered to cover the retreating army. On the evening of the 8th, when I had reached the front, my scout George brought me two men in Confederate uniform, who, he said, he believed to be the enemy, as he had seen them counting our men as they filed past. I had the men brought to my campfire, and examined them. They made a most plausible defence, but George was positive they were spies, and I ordered them searched. He failed to find anything, when I ordered him to examine their boots. In the bottom of one of the boots I found an order from General Grant to General Ord, telling him to move by forced marches toward Lynchburg and cut off General Lee's retreat. The men then confessed that they were spies, and belonged to General Sheridan. They stated that they knew that the penalty of their course was death, but asked that I should not kill them, as the war could only last a few days longer, anyhow. I kept them prisoners, and turned them over to General Sheridan after the surrender. I at once sent the information to General Lee, and a short time afterward received orders to go to his headquarters. That night was held Lee's last council of war. There were present General Lee, General Fitzhugh Lee, as head of the cavalry, and Pendleton, as chief of artillery, and myself. General Longstreet was, I think, too busily engaged to attend. General Lee then exhibited to us the correspondence he had had with General Grant that day, and asked our opinion of the situation. It seemed that surrender was inevitable. The only chance of escape was that I could cut a way for the army through the lines in front of me. General Lee asked me if I could do this. I replied that I did not know what forces were in front of me; that if General Ord had not arrived--as we thought then he had not--with his heavy masses of infantry, I could cut through. I guaranteed that my men would cut a way through all the cavalry that could be massed in front of them. The council finally dissolved with the understanding that the army should be surrendered if I discovered the next morning, after feeling the enemy's line, that the infantry had arrived in such force that I could not cut my way through.

NEARING THE END.

My men were drawn up in the little town of Appomattox that night. I still had about four thousand men under me, as the army had been divided into two commands and given to General Longstreet and myself. Early on the morning of the 9th I prepared for the assault upon the enemy's line, and began the last fighting done in Virginia. My men rushed forward gamely and broke the line of the enemy and captured two pieces of artillery. I was still unable to tell what I was fighting; I did not know whether I was striking infantry or dismounted cavalry. I only knew that my men were driving them back, and were getting further and further through. Just then I had a message from General Lee, telling me a flag of truce was in existence, leaving it to my discretion as to what course to pursue. My men were still pushing their way on. I sent at once to hear from General Longstreet, feeling that, if he was marching toward me, we might still cut through and carry the army forward. I learned that he was about two miles off, with his face just opposite from mine, fighting for his life. I thus saw that the case was hopeless. The further each of us drove the enemy the further we drifted apart, and the more exposed we left our wagon trains and artillery, which were parked between us. Every line either of us broke only opened the gap the wider. I saw plainly that the Federals would soon rush in between us, and then there would have been no army. I, therefore, determined to send a flag of truce. I called Colonel Peyton of my staff to me, and told him that I wanted him to carry a flag of truce forward. He replied:

"General, I have no flag of truce."

I told him to get one. He replied:

"General, we have no flag of truce in our command."

Then said I, "Get your handkerchief, put it on a stick, and go forward."

"I have no handkerchief, General."

"Then borrow one and go forward with it."

He tried, and reported to me that there was no handkerchief in my staff.

"Then, Colonel, use your shirt!"

"You see, General, that we all have on flannel shirts."

At last, I believe, we found a man who had a white shirt. He gave it to us, and I tore off the back and tail, and, tying this to a stick, Colonel Peyton went out toward the enemy's lines. I instructed him to simply say to General Sheridan that General Lee had written me that a flag of truce had been sent from his and Grant's headquarters, and that he could act as he thought best on this information. In a few moments he came back with some one representing General Sheridan. This officer said:

"General Sheridan requested me to present his compliments to you, and to demand the unconditional surrender of your army."

"Major, you will please return my compliments to General Sheridan, and say that I will not surrender."

"But, General, he will annihilate you."

"I am perfectly well aware of my situation. I simply gave General Sheridan some information on which he may or may not desire to act."

THE FLAG OF TRUCE.

He went back to his lines, and in a short time General Sheridan came forward on an immense horse, and attended by a very large staff. Just here an incident occurred that came near having a serious ending. As General Sheridan was approaching I noticed one of my sharp-shooters drawing his rifle down upon him. I at once called to him: "Put down your gun, sir; this is a flag of truce." But he simply settled it to his shoulder and was drawing a bead on Sheridan, when I leaned forward and jerked his gun. He struggled with me, but I finally raised it. I then loosed it, and he started to aim again. I caught it again, when he turned his stern white face, all broken with grief and streaming with tears, up to me, and said: "Well, General, then let him keep on his own side." The fighting had continued up to this point. Indeed, after the flag of truce, a regiment of my men, who had been fighting their way through toward where we were, and who did not know of a flag of truce, fired into some of Sheridan's cavalry. This was speedily stopped, however. I showed General Sheridan General Lee's note, and he determined to await events. He dismounted, and I did the same. Then, for the first time, the men seemed to understand what it all meant, and then the poor fellows broke down. The men cried like children. Worn, starved, and bleeding as they were, they had rather have died than have surrendered. At one word from me they would have hurled themselves on the enemy, and have {494} cut their way through or have fallen to a man with their guns in their hands. But I could not permit it. The great drama had been played to its end. But men are seldom permitted to look upon such a scene as the one presented here. That these men should have wept at surrendering so unequal a fight, at being taken out of this constant carnage and storm, at being sent back to their families; that they should have wept at having their starved and wasted forms lifted out of the jaws of death and placed once more before their hearthstones, was an exhibition of fortitude and patriotism that might set an example for all time.

THE END.

Ah, sir, every ragged soldier that surrendered that day, from the highest to the lowest, from the old veteran to the beardless boy, every one of them, sir, carried a heart of gold in his breast! It made my heart bleed for them, and sent the tears streaming down my face, as I saw them surrender the poor, riddled, battle-stained flags that they had followed so often, and that had been made sacred with the blood of their comrades. The poor fellows would step forward, give up the scanty rag that they had held so precious through so many long and weary years, and then turn and wring their empty hands together and bend their heads in an agony of grief. Their sobs and the sobs of their comrades could be heard for yards around. Others would tear the flags from the staff and hide the precious rag in their bosoms and hold it there. As General Lee rode down the lines with me, and saw the men crying, and heard them cheering "Uncle Robert" with their simple but pathetic remarks, he turned to me and said, in a broken voice: "Oh, General, if it had only been my lot to have fallen in one of our battles, to have given my life to this cause that we could not save!" I told him that he should not feel that way, that he had done all that mortal man could do, and that every man and woman in the South would feel this and would make him feel it. "No, no!" he said, "there will be many who will blame me. But, General, I have the consolation of knowing that my conscience approves what I have done, and that the army sustains me."

In a few hours the army was scattered, and the men went back to their ruined and dismantled homes, many of them walking all the way to Georgia and Alabama, all of them penniless, worn out, and well-nigh heartbroken. Thus passed away Lee's army; thus were its last battles fought, thus was it surrendered, and thus was the great American tragedy closed, let us all hope, forever.

{495}

CAMP LIFE.

BY GENERAL SELDEN CONNOR.

A MAJORITY OF SOLDIERS IN THE UNION ARMY WERE YOUNG MEN--THE WAR A COLOSSAL PICNIC--THE ATTRACTIONS OF CAMP LIFE FOR YOUNG MEN--DRILLING AND GUARD DUTY--STYLES OF TENTS USED IN THE ARMY--LOG HUTS FOR WINTER QUARTERS--A NEW USE FOR WELL-SEASONED FENCE RAILS--RISE AND FALL OF A LIGHT "TOWN OF CANVAS"--GENUINE LOVE FOR HARD-TACK--THE TRIALS AND DANGERS OF AN ARMY SUTLER--DRAMATIC AND MINSTREL ENTERTAINMENTS IN CAMP--HORSE-RACING AND THE "DERBY" OF THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC--CARD-PLAYING AND OTHER GAMES--CAMPS OF NORTHERN SOLDIERS KEPT IN BETTER CONDITION THAN THOSE OF SOUTHERN SOLDIERS--FENCING, BOXING, AND DRILLING--STUDYING GEOLOGY.

From one point of view the war for the Union was a colossal picnic. Not that it was in the spirit of a summer holiday, with pure gayety of heart, that a million of the bravest and best of the country took to the tented field to interpose their lives between their country and all that would do her harm. No soldiers were ever more impressed with the serious nature of the contest for which they had enlisted than were those of '61. But the "men" who composed the Union armies were by far and away a majority very young men; they were then really "the boys" in the sight of all the world, as they are now to each other when veteran comrades meet and "Bill" greets "Joe," and the wrongs of time are forgotten in the vividness of their memories of the time when they wore the blue livery and ate the very hard bread of Uncle Sam. They were real human boys, like those of to-day, and as the boys of '76 very likely were; and so, mingled with the glow of patriotic ardor in their breasts, and the determination to do their duty whatever might betide, there was a keen sense of the novelty of the soldier's life. They had read of wars and soldiers from Cæsar to Zack Taylor, and were filled with the traditional pride of American citizens in the heroism and exploits of the men who achieved independence. The greater number of them had recollections, more or less clear, of cheering for Buena Vista and Resaca de la Palma. But wars were "old, unhappy, far-off things," entirely out of date, inconsistent alike with "the spirit of the times" and "the principles of free popular government." "The American boys of this peaceful age would never be called upon"-- But, hark! the drum! Partings were sad, with home, kindred, friends. The old life-plans with all their courses, ambitions, hopes, and dreams, were temporarily turned to the wall. There was no room for regrets or forebodings. Duty called, and their country's flag waved its summons to them. War's dangers were before them; but there were in prospect also the experience of a soldier's life, the zest of the sharp change from the dull monotony of peaceful pursuits to the stir and novelty of the camp. They took up the new life with a kind of "fearful joy." It had its drawbacks, but on the whole it had many and strong attractions to lusty and imaginative youth. "It amuses me," said a veteran of the Mexican war to a company just enlisted in a three-months regiment under the President's first call for troops, "to hear you boys talk about coming home when your term of service is out. When you once follow the drum you are bound to keep on just as long as the music lasts." The boys found that the veteran was right. At the conclusion of their three months' service they reënlisted almost, if not quite, to a man, and most of them became officers.

It did not quite suit the dignity of the young soldiers, as free and independent American citizens, to yield implicit obedience to any man, and especially to be "bossed" by officers who, as their neighbors, had no claim to superiority, and to have all their incomings and outgoings regulated by the tap of the drum. When they realized, as they were not long in doing, that officers as well as men had to obey at their peril, and that good discipline was essential to their well-being and efficiency as soldiers, they accepted the situation, and rendered a ready and dutiful obedience.

The secret of the charm of the soldier's life is not far to seek. The soldier is care-free, absolved from that "pernicious liberty of choice" which makes ordinary life weary and anxious, and his responsibility is limited to his well-defined line of duty. Above all, the bond of sympathy is closer than in any other form of association. To pursue the same routine, to go to bed and rise up at a common call, to be served with the same food, drink, and clothes by a common master, to share the same hardships and perils, to own one leadership, and to be engaged in a common purpose with hundreds of thousands of others, constitutes in the {496} highest degree that unity which Cicero found to be the essence of friendship, the bond of nearness and dearness known to the soldier as "comradeship." Allied to this feeling, and aiding to exalt the soldier's profession, is that "esprit de corps" which fills his heart with pride in his company, his regiment, corps, and army. As a rider feels that he shares the sinewy strength of the steed under him, so the soldier, though a unit among thousands, exults in the dread power and beauty of the bounding column or long line of which he forms a part; in the order and precision which transform a multitude of individuals into one terrible engine. The Roman citizen was not more proud of his country than the Union soldier was of his army. A soldier of the Army of the Potomac writes in a home letter dated April, 1863: "I have just taken a ride of about fifteen miles through the army. It is really a sight worth while to go through this vast army and see how admirably everything is conducted. The discipline is fine, the men look healthy and are in the best possible spirits, and the cleanliness of the camps and grounds is a model for housewives." The delights of the gypsy-like way of living of the soldier had a large part in forming the bright side of the new vocation. It seemed good to turn from the comforts and luxuries of easeful homes, and go back to the simple and nomadic habits of the hardy primitive man; to live more closely with Nature, and be subject to her varying moods; to have the sod for a couch, and the winds for a lullaby, and to be constantly familiar with the changing skies from early morning through the day and the watches of the night. The pork and beef boiled in the kettles hung over the campfire, the beans cooked in Dutch ovens buried in the embers, owed their sweet savor to the picturesque manner of the cooking as well as to uncritical appetites sharpened by living in the open air, and by plenty of exercise, drilling, guard duty, and "fatigue." And what feast could compare with the unpurchased chicken broiled on the coals, sweet potatoes roasted in the ashes--trophies of his "bow and spear" in foraging--and his tin cup of ration coffee; the product of the marauder's own culinary skill, over his private fire, served "à la fourchette" and smoking hot; with perhaps the luxury of a soft hoe-cake, acquired by barter of some "auntie," in lieu of the daily hard bread!

Not least among the fascinations of the soldier's life is the uncertain tenure he has of his camp. He has no local habitation. He may flatter himself that the army is going to remain long enough to make it worth his while to provide the comforts and conveniences within the compass of his resources and ingenuity, and when he has fairly established himself and contemplates his work with complacency, the ruthless order comes to "break camp," and down goes his beautiful home as if it were but a child's house of blocks. He grumbles a little at the sacrifice, but the prospect of fresh scenes and adventures is sufficient solace of his disappointment, and he cheerfully makes himself at home again at the next halt of his regiment.

In the matter of habitation the soldier did not pursue the order of the pioneer who begins with a brush lean-to, then builds a log house, and continues building nobler mansions as his labors prosper and fortune smiles, until, maybe, a brownstone front shelters him. The home of the soldier of the War for the Union was, like the bumble-bee, "the biggest when it was born." In 1861 the volunteer regiments were generally fitted out, before leaving their respective States, with tents, wagons, mess furniture, and all other "impedimenta," according to the requirements of army regulations. The tents commonly furnished for the use of the rank and file were the "A" and the "Sibley" patterns. The "A" was wedge-shaped, as its name indicates, and was supposed to quarter five or six men. The "Sibley" was a simple cone, suggested by the Indian "tepee," with an opening at the apex for ventilation and the exit of the smoke of the fire, for which provision was made in the centre of the tent by the use of a tall iron tripod as a foundation for the pole. It comfortably accommodated fifteen or sixteen men, lying feet to the pole, and radiating thence like the spokes of a wheel. This tent, improved by the addition of a curtain, or wall, is now in use by the regular army, and it is known as the "conical wall tent." Officers were provided with wall tents, canvas houses, two to each field or staff officer above the rank of captain, one to each captain, and one to every two subaltern officers. Each company had a "cook tent," and the cooking was done over a fire in the open. The fires of the cooks of companies from the northern lumbering regions could always be distinguished by the "bean holes," in which the covered iron pot containing the frequent "pork and beans," the favorite and distinctive article of Yankee diet, was buried in hot embers and, barring removal by unauthorized hands, allowed to remain all night. The lumberman and the soldier declare that he who has not eaten them cooked in this manner does not really "know beans." The regimental camp of infantry was arranged according to regulations, with such modifications as the nature of the ground might make desirable. The company "streets" were at right angles with the "color line" or "front" on which the regiment was formed, and began ten paces in rear of it. The tents of the "rank and file" of each company were pitched on both sides of its street. In rear of them, with an interval of twenty paces between the lines, and in successive order, was the line of "kitchens," the line of non-commissioned staff, sutler and police guard, the line of company officers, and the line of field and staff officers. In the rear of the camp were the baggage train and officers' horses.

The first winter of the Army of the Potomac was to a large part of the army one of much suffering from cold. The hills of Virginia, along the Potomac, are anything but tropical in the winter. The frequent light snows and rains, followed by thawy, sunny days, produced a moisture in the air which, combined with winds from the mountains, struck a chill to the very marrow of the bones of even the men from the far North accustomed to a much lower temperature but in a dry atmosphere. The commander of the army gave no encouragement to the building of winter quarters, and the prevailing impression was that the army must remain on the _qui vive_, ready to move on slight notice whenever the commander (or the enemy) might give the word. There was plenty of fine timber in the section of country occupied by the army, and it would have been an easy matter to the skilled axemen and mechanics in which most regiments abounded, and entailing comparatively slight expense, to build log huts that would have housed them in comfort and saved many a stout soldier for the impending days of battle. Some commands, either by special permission or taking the responsibility upon themselves, did build huts, and were snugly and warmly housed for months, while their less fortunate or unenterprising neighbors were shivering under their canvas. The rude fireplaces made of stones, with the tenacious Virginia mud for mortar, having chimneys of sticks and clay, or barrels, served fairly well to heat a well-chinked hut; but their small, sputtering fires could make but little impression on the temperature of a space which had only a thin cotton barrier as a defence against the keen wintry blasts. The unnecessary hardships of such exposure inflicted {497} severe loss on the army, especially in those regiments which had been visited in the autumn by that scourge common to new levies, the measles. That disease, though not dangerous in itself, leaves its subjects in an enfeebled condition for a long time after apparent recovery, and incapable of withstanding exposures and ailments ordinarily regarded as slight. In the camps of regiments which had been afflicted with it, the burial party marching with slow and solemn step to the wail of the dirge was an all too frequent ceremony through the long winter, and far from inspiriting to young soldiers, while the number of the dead was as great as that of the slain in a hard-fought battle. Perhaps the relentless necessities attending the hasty gathering and organization of a great army made it difficult or impossible to bestow upon convalescents the care necessary to preserve their lives; but, leaving aside the question of humanity, an intelligent self-interest should have induced the responsible head of the army to make every effort to guard against such deplorable impairment of the strength of his command as arose from causes which seem to have been preventable. If the men who perished miserably on the bleak hillsides of Virginia, and who never had a chance to strike a blow for the cause that was so dear to them, had been sent where they could have received proper care and treatment, the number of these restored to health and strength would have constituted a powerful reinforcement in the following campaign where the cry for help was raised so lustily.

The mistake of the first winter was not repeated. The fact was recognized that the army must go into winter quarters, and timely and adequate preparations to encounter the rigors of the season were made by the whole army. An officer writing from "Camp near White Oak Church, Virginia," in the winter of 1862-63, says: "We have fixed up our camp so that it is quite comfortable. Each squad of four men has its hut, made by digging into the ground a foot or two and then placing on the ground at the sides several logs, and roofing with their shelter tents. At the side they dig a fireplace, and build a chimney outside with sticks and mud. It is Paddy-like, but much more comfortable than no house at all. My 'house' is very nice; it is built up with split hardwood logs about four feet above the ground, and on this foundation my wall tent is pitched, making {498} a room nine by nine, with walls six feet high. At one end there is a fine fireplace, which does not smoke at all. I told Captain C., who was just in, that if I had a cat on the hearth it would be quite domestic." The general style of architecture throughout the army was the same; but there were wide differences in the manner of construction and the details of the work. The huts of some commands were rudely built and without uniformity, giving to the camp a mean and squalid appearance, while other camps were very attractive with their rows of solid and trim-looking structures, as like each other as the houses of a builder in a city addition.

The real soldiering and camping began when, after a period of stripping for the campaign by sending the sick to hospitals and all unnecessary baggage to the rear for storage, of outfitting with all the required clothing, arms, equipments, and ammunition, and of repeated inspections and reviews to make sure that everybody and everything was in readiness, the troops were drawn out of winter quarters and put on the march toward the enemy. Every man had to be his own pack animal and carry upon his shoulders and hips his food--rations for one day or a week, according to the nature of the enterprise in hand and the prospect of making a connection with the wagon trains; drink in his canteen; cartridges--a cartridge box full and oftentimes as many more as could be crowded into knapsacks and pockets; and, lastly, his lodging, a woollen blanket and one of rubber, and the oblong piece of cotton cloth which was his part of the "shelter tent." This tent was invented by the French and had long been in use by them. It is one of the most useful articles of the soldier's equipment. It is but a slight addition to his burden, and a very great one to his comfort. Two or more comrades, by buttoning their several sections together, and the use of a few slight sticks, or sticks and cord, can speedily prepare a very effective protection against the dew, the wind, and "the heaviest of the rain." Generally three comrades joined their sections to form a tent; two sections made the sides and one an end, the other end either remaining open to admit the heat of a fire or being closed by a rubber blanket. When four men tented together, which they could do by "packing close," the extra section was used instead of the rubber blanket, and then the squad was very thoroughly housed.

Schiller's word-picture of a military camp vividly recalls to the soldier one of the most characteristic and impressive pictures of his army life:

"Lo there! the soldier, rapid architect! Builds his light town of canvas, and at once The whole scene moves and bustles momently. With arms and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel, The motley market fills: the roads, the streams, Are crowded with new freights; trade stirs and hurries. But on some morrow morn, all suddenly, The tents drop down, the horde renews its march. Dreary and solitary as a churchyard The meadows and down-trodden seed-plot lie, And the year's harvest is gone utterly."

The rise and fall of "the light towns of canvas," movable cities that attended the progress of the army, seemed wonderful and magical. Imagine a broad plantation stretching its sunny acres from river to forest, a vast and lonely area with no signs of human occupancy anywhere, except, perhaps, the toil-bent figures of a few bondservants of the soil at their tasks in the fields, under the eye of the overseer, lending by the unjoyous monotony of their labor an air of gloom and melancholy to the oppressive loneliness of the scene. Suddenly and quietly from the road at the edge of the forest a few horsemen ride into the open, a banneret bearing some cabalistic device fluttering over them, closely followed by a rapidly moving column of men whose gleaming muskets indicate afar off their trade; and presently, when the centre of the regiment breaks into view and Old Glory appears in all its beauty against the background of dark forest, it announces to all who may behold that one of the grand armies of the Republic is on the march. As the regiment emerges in the easy marching disorder of "route step" and "arms at will," it seems to be a confused tide of men flowing steadily along and filling the whole roadway. A few sharp orders ring out, and the throng is transformed almost instantly to a solid military machine; officers take their posts, "files cover," arms are carried uniformly, the cadence step is taken--"short on the right" that the men may "close up" to the proper distance--and, under the guidance of a staff officer, the regiment marches to its assigned camping-ground, where it is brought to a front, arms are stacked, and ranks broken. With whoops and cries expressing their gratification that the day's march is over and a rest is in prospect, the released soldiers scatter, unstrapping their irksome knapsacks and throwing them off with sighs of relief, and betake themselves to the preparation of their temporary home. If there be any prize which these old campaigners have discovered as with wise prevision and hawk-like ken they surveyed their environment in marching to the camping-ground--a comely fence of well-seasoned rails, for instance--they "make a break" for it on the instant of their deliverance from the restraint of discipline, and with a unanimity and alacrity that give little hope of a share to the slow-footed, and fill the hearts of the incoming regiment, not yet released, with envy and unavailing longing. When the scramble is over, and the foragers have swarmed in like ants, laden with their plunder, each squad with practised skill proceeds to its domestic duties. One man pitches the "dog tent," and utilizes any {499} material that may be at hand for making the couch dry and soft. Another, laden with the canteens, explores the hollows and copses for the cool spring of which he has had tantalizing visions on the dusty march. The rest build the fire, if one is needed for warmth, or for cooking in case the wagons containing the company mess kettles and rations are not with the command or have not come up, and therefore every man is left to boil his coffee and fry his pork to his own taste, and lend a hand whenever needed. Every man is expected to contribute of the best that the country affords, and not to be nice as to the method of acquisition, to eke out the plain fare of the marching ration. Foraging in Virginia, except to the cavalry, was not a very prosperous pursuit after the country had been occupied a few months by the army. There was, however, game almost anywhere for those emancipated from vulgar prejudices in the matter of diet, as De Trobriand's Zouaves appear to have been, for he says of them that they "discovered the nutritive qualities of the black snake." The _menu_ including a black snake hash suggests a wide range of possibilities. By the time the first arrivals have leisure to look about them, the plain far and near is covered with tents: the "rapid architect" has done his work, and the "light town" is established.

Perhaps before the next morning's sun was high in the heavens the town had disappeared like a scene conjured up by a magician, leaving the plain to resume its wonted loneliness so strangely interrupted.

The routine of camp-life so absorbed the time of the soldier that there was little left to hang heavy on his hands. The odd minutes between drills, roll-calls, police and fatigue duty, could be well utilized in cleaning his musket and equipments, washing and mending his clothes, darning his stockings, procuring fuel, improving his quarters, writing home, and re-reading old letters. After a hard night's duty on camp guard or picket, with sleep on the instalment plan, it was luxury to lie warm and make up the arrears undisturbed by fear of the dread summons, "Fall in, second relief." Very restful it was, too, to stretch out at full length on the spring bunk, made of barrel staves across poles, with a knapsack for a pillow, and indulge in the fragrant briarwood, conversing with comrades of home and friends, or discussing the gossip of the camp. In spring and summer camps each tent commonly had an arbor of foliage for a porch, and when there swung in its shelter a shapely hammock ingeniously woven of withes and grapevines, attached to spring poles driven into the earth, and filled with the balmy tips of cedar boughs, the extreme of sybaritish appointments was attained. It was always in order to hunt for "something to eat," not perhaps so much to appease absolute hunger as to vary the tiresome monotony of the regulation diet. Desirable articles of food were acquired in all ways recognized by civilized peoples as legitimate: by purchase, by barter, and by--right of discovery. In camp and all accessible places on the march the sutler tempted appetites weary of hard-tack and pork, with dry ginger cakes, cheese, dried fruits, and apples in their season. Sardines, condensed milk, and other tinned food preparations were so expensive that they could not be indulged in to a great extent. The canning industry was then in its infancy. If it had then attained its present development, and all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and meats had been accessible to the soldier, he would have been in full sympathy with the Arizona miner who said to his "pard," as they were consuming the customary flapjacks and bacon, "Tom, I hope I shall strike it rich; I should just like to strike it rich."--"Well, Bill, s'pose you should strike it rich, what then?"--"If I should strike it rich, Tom, I'd live on canned goods _one_ six months."

Although the old soldier would growl about his hard-tack and feign to have slight regard for it, the sincerity of his attachment was attested by an incident occurring in a command which halted for a few days, after the battle of Gettysburg, at a rural town in Pennsylvania. It was far from the base of supplies, and the commissary's supplies had become exhausted, and he was obliged to purchase flour and issue it to the companies. Having no facilities for baking, they had their flour made into bread at the farmhouses in their vicinity. The bread was fairly good and there was plenty of it; nevertheless, when the wagons appeared laden with the familiar boxes of veteran "squares," cheers went up all along the line as if for a victory or the return of missing comrades.

{500} [Illustration: LANDING REINFORCEMENTS FOR FORT PICKENS, FLORIDA, JUNE, 1861.]

{501} The sutler was an institution of the camp not to be overlooked. When transportation was safe and not expensive, he kept a general store of everything that officers and men required or could be tempted to buy, save such articles as were prohibited by the Council of Administration which had the general oversight of his business. Where carriage was difficult and dangerous, a choice of articles had to be made in order to supply those most needed. Tobacco and matches were easily first in order of selection. Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac will remember the blue-ended matches that left such a track behind when struck; they touched nothing they did not adorn.

The sutlers of German-American regiments were expected to accomplish the impossible in order to supply lager, Rhine wine, and bolognas. Whenever a fresh stock of such goods had been received, the crowd around the sutler's tent mustered in far greater numbers than appeared at the parade of the regiment. It was popularly considered very desirable to have a German regiment in a brigade. In one respect the sutler's business was a safe one: he could collect at the paymaster's table the sums due him, if he took care not to give men credit in excess of the proportion of their pay permitted by regulations. On the other hand, his profits were in danger of diminution from many quarters. In camp the sutler and his clerks could not always distinguish, among a crowd of customers coming and going, who paid and who did not; storehouses were slight and penetrable, and marauders were watchful and cunning. Those commands were very exceptional that were in Falstaff's condition, "heinously unprovided with a thief." On the march, dangers to the sutler's stock multiplied. To say nothing of ordinary risks attending carriage over bad roads, and of the watchful guerilla, there was always an uneasy feeling in the breast of the purveyor when most surrounded by men in friendly uniform, that there might be "unguarded moments" when the cry, "Rally on the sutler," would be followed by a speedy division of his goods, leaving him lamenting. Personally the sutler was generally a prudent and tactful man, and gained the goodwill of his customers by an obliging disposition and a readiness to take a joke even if it was a little rough and at his expense. When the command was in the field he made himself especially serviceable as a medium of communication with the "base," and many and various were the commissions he was called upon to execute.

Camp life had its diversions in addition to the many interesting and enjoyable features of the daily round of duties. Military life in itself is necessarily spectacular, abounding in scenes of animation and display. He must be of an unsusceptible nature and void of enthusiasm who is indifferent to the splendid pageantry which attends the business of war; whose senses are not pleased and imagination excited by charging squadrons, batteries dashing across the field with a rumble and clang suggestive of the thunderbolts they bear, and by "heavy and solemn" battalions moving with perfect order and precision to the stormy music of martial airs, with banners flying, rows of bright arms reflecting the rays of the sun in streams of silver light, and horses proudly caracoling in excited enjoyment of the music, the glitter, and the movement.

Such spectacles thrill the breast of the soldier with pride in his profession, and cause him to feel that

"All else to noble hearts is dross, All else on earth is mean."

The daily ceremonies of "guard mounting" and "dress parade," and the frequent reviews and brigade and division drills, afforded splendid entertainments, entirely gratuitous except the contribution of personal services. Candor compels the admission that the soldier sometimes considered the show dear at the price. When weather and ground were favorable, the men played the game that then passed for "ball"--not so {502} warlike an affair as the present contest by that name--and pitched quoits, using horse-shoes, when attainable, for that purpose. The Virginia winter often afforded material for snowballing, and there were occasions when whole regiments in order of battle were pitted against each other in mimic warfare, filling the air with snowy pellets, and Homeric deeds were done. Theatrical and minstrel entertainments were given by "native talent," and were liberally patronized. The first warm days of spring opened the season of horse-racing. The "Derby" of the Army of the Potomac was St. Patrick's Day. Running and hurdle races were held on a grand scale. The fine horses and their dashing riders, the grand stand filled with generals and staff officers, visiting dignitaries and ladies, the band composed of many regimental bands consolidated for the occasion and pouring forth a perfect Niagara of sound, mounted officers and soldiers in thousands occupying the central space of the track, and General Meagher, in the costume of "a fine old Irish gentleman," presiding as grand patron of the races--all combined, with the military accessories of glittering uniforms and comparisons, to make a scene of unusual animation and brilliancy. For "fireside games" the various inventions played with the well-thumbed pack of cards were greatly in favor. Sometimes it was a simple, innocent game "just to pass away the time." At other times it was a serious contest resulting to the unfortunate in "passing away" all that was left him of his last pay and perhaps an interest in his next stipend. The colored retainers and camp followers were generally votaries of the goddess of chance and were skilled in getting on her blind side. One day Major Blank, a gallant officer of the staff, was showing a friend some tricks with cards. Bob, his colored boy, was apparently very busy brushing up the quarters and setting things to rights, paying no attention to the exhibition. The next day the major saw his retainer counting over a whole fistful of greenbacks. "Why, Bob," said he, "where did you get all that money?" Bob, looking up with a grin and a chuckle: "I'se down ter de cavalry last night, major, and dem fellers down dar didn't know nuffin 'bout dat little trick wid de jacks what you's showin' to de cunnel." Bob had tasted the sweets of philosophy, and proved that "knowledge is power." The colored "boys" who came into camp when the army was in the enemy's country, for the purpose of gazing at the "Linkum" soldiers, or marching along with them in any capacity that would give them rations, gave much entertainment to their hosts by their simplicity, their stolidness, or their accomplishments as whistling, singing, or dancing darkies. The morning after "Williamsburg," half a dozen boys from some plantation in the vicinity came near several officers grouped about a fire. "Good morning, boys," said Captain C., "where did you all come from?"--"We come from Marsa Jones's place, right over yer," said the spokesman. "We h'ar de fightin' goin' on yes'erday, an' we jes come over dis mornin' to see about it and see you all."--"Do you think, boys," resumed the captain, "that it is quite the polite thing to wear such clothes as you have on when you come to visit gentlemen of President Lincoln's army?"--"Dese yer's de bes' close we got," was the earnestly uttered reply. "You must certainly have better hats than those?"--"No! no! no!" came in chorus, "we has only one hat to w'ar."--"It is a shame," said the captain, drawing a memorandum book from his pocket with a business-like air and poising his pencil, "that such good-looking boys as you are should only have one hat, and such bad ones at that; I must send back to Fortress Monroe and have some hats sent up for you. What kind of a hat do you want?" addressing himself to the spokesman. "I wants a low-crowned hat, massa," was the quick and earnest response; and then each boy in turn eagerly expressed his personal preference, "I wants a wide-rimmed hat," "I wants a hat ter fit me," etc., until the order was completed and apparently taken down by the guileful scribe. Their confidence made the deceit so easy as to greatly dull the point of the practical joke. Maybe they never questioned the good faith of their generous friend, and ascribed the non-delivery of the hats to other causes than his neglect.

It was not often that a camp had such a sensational and pleasurable incident as that which occurred to the First Vermont volunteer infantry, a three months' regiment, at Newport News, in the summer of 1861. The Woodstock company formed a part of the detachment of that regiment, which participated in the unfortunate expedition to Big Bethel; and on the return of the company, private Reuben Parker was missing. The company had been somewhat broken up in making an attack in the woods. Several men remembered seeing Parker, who was a brave fellow and a skilled rifleman, somewhat in advance of the rest of the company, busily loading and firing. Some were even quite sure they had seen him fall. Days and weeks having passed without his appearance or any further news of him, there seemed no doubt about his fate, and he was reported "killed in action." Funeral services were held at his home in Vermont, and his wife and children put on mourning for the lost husband and father. One day the surprising and joyful report spread swiftly through the camp, that Parker was alive and had returned. He came from Richmond under the escort of two Louisiana "tigers," sent in for exchange. He had been taken prisoner uninjured and carried to Richmond, where he enjoyed the distinction of being the first Yankee captive exhibited in that city, and the first occupant of "the Libby." Parker was the lion of the day for many days after his return to the company, and his accounts of the colloquies he held with curious rebels, and of the insults and revilings he was subjected to in prison, made him in great request among his comrades. His case was the first of the instances occurring in the war when Southern prisons "yawned" and yielded "their dead unto life again."

Mr. H. V. Redfield, whose home in Lower East Tennessee was visited several times by both the Union and the Confederate armies, observed and noted some of the differing characteristics of the two sides. It was the opinion of his neighbors that they would see none of the soldiers throughout the war, because they "could not get their cannon over the mountains." But it was not long before they learned to their cost that mountains offered no insurmountable obstacles to modern armies, or to their artillery either.

The first time that it dawned upon the inhabitants of this section that there was a possible fighting chance for the North, and that one Southern soldier was not necessarily equal to five from the North, was after the Confederate defeat at Mill Spring, Ky., where Zollicoffer was killed. The Confederate panic was so complete and so lasting, that some of the refugees ran fully one hundred and fifty miles from the scene of battle before they dared stop to take their breath and rest. They arrived wild-eyed and in confusion, and not only to the men themselves, but to all the neighborhood, it was an "eye-opener" as to the fact that there was a war on hand that was likely to last until there had been some hard fighting on both sides.

It was not long after this that General Floyd, the disloyal Secretary of War, who had done so much before his resignation {503} to prepare the South for the conflict, came to Lower Tennessee in his flight from Fort Donelson. He sent for the Northern men in the town, and told them, in explanation of his flight from Donelson, that he would "never be captured in this war. I have a long account to settle with the Yankees, and they can settle it in hell!"

The Southern soldiers were always prone to talk back at their officers, lacking the discipline which was quickly established in the Union army; and when they suffered defeat they took it as a personal disappointment, for which they meant to get even with the Yanks after the war; and they also had a bad habit of laying the responsibility for every reverse on the shoulders of their superiors. When General Bragg retreated through Tennessee, his men were greatly cast down, though they insisted that their retreat did not mean that they were whipped, which they insisted they were not. "It is bad enough," said one of the soldiers, "to run when we are whipped; but d--n this way of beating the Yankees and then running away from them!" One of them was asked where they were retreating to. "To Cuba," he said angrily, "if old Bragg can get a bridge built across from Florida." A horse trade was proposed on this retreat, between two soldiers whose horses were pretty well spent, and a farmer who was willing to exchange fresher ones for these and a bonus. One of the soldiers objected to the horse that was offered to him, because it had a white face that the enemy could see for a mile. "Oh, that's no objection," said his companion; "it's the other end of Bragg's cavalry that is always toward the Yankees."

At the beginning of the war the Confederate cavalry was rather the better mounted, because so many of the men owned their own horses; but as the original supply gave out, and the renewing of the mounts became a question of the respective ability of the governments to furnish the best animals, this difference changed in favor of the Northern cavalry. Also, at the beginning the Confederates were by far the best riders, as might be expected of a race of men who spent much time in the saddle before the war. But it was not long before the Union cavalryman learned to ride, too, and then, with better horses, better equipments, and better fodder, the efficiency of the cavalry of the North was superior.

Before the war had gotten very far along, the greater facility of the Union Government for equipping, subsisting, and generally preparing its army, brought about a contrast between the two hostile armies distinctly favorable to that of the North. The Union men were better fed. To be sure, the Confederates had plenty of tobacco, while often the Union troops were rather short of that luxury, and were ready to make trades with the pickets of the enemy in order to secure it. But the Unionists had plenty of coffee, and that good, while coffee was an item that quickly disappeared from the Southern bill of fare. Meat and flour also became scarce, and through a good many campaigns corn-meal was the staple of the Confederate diet. The advantage of having coffee appeared in some cases to be a distinct military advantage. The story is told of a man who had volunteered in the Confederate army, and had been captured, paroled, and sent home. The Union army presently encamped near his home, and his two boys went down to camp to take a look around; and when some friends whom they met there regaled them with all the crackers and coffee they wanted, they made up their minds to enlist under Uncle Sam just to get an amount and quality of "grub" to which they had long been strangers. The old man was much disturbed, and went down to see what he could do to get the boys out of the scrape. But he found that he himself was like the man who said he could "resist anything except temptation," for his first taste of the Yankee coffee seduced him from his allegiance to the Stars and Bars, and he, too, enlisted for the war. This story is vouched for as a fact, illustrating the seductive power of a good commissariat for the enticement of recruits.

The Northern soldier was the best clothed, and the clothing was uniform, which could not be said of that of the Southern soldier, who, although he was supposed to be dressed in gray or butternut, was really dressed in whatever he could pick up, which often did not include overcoats or oil-blankets. Supplied with good materials, and plenty of them, the Northern soldier was expected to take care of them, and he did so. But the Confederate soldier seldom took care to keep his weapons bright and free from dirt and rust. The Confederate lacked thoroughness in his camp housekeeping; he almost never fixed up the little comfortable arrangements that characterized a Union camp, if occupied for any length of time, nor did he "police" his camp carefully, to keep it neat or even clean, the lack of ordinary cleanliness being so marked as really to contribute materially to losses through {504} disease. The way in which the Union soldier made even a temporary camp homelike was well described by an army correspondent, Benjamin F. Taylor:

"No matter where or when you halt them, they are at once at home. They know precisely what to do first, and they do it. I have seen them march into a strange region at dark, and almost as soon as the fires would show well they were twinkling all over the field, the Sibley cones rising like the work of enchantment everywhere, and the little dog-tents lying snug to the ground, as if, like the mushrooms, they had grown there, and the aroma of coffee and tortured bacon suggesting creature comforts, and the whole economy of life in canvas cities moving as steadily on as if it had never been intermitted. The movements of regiments are as blind as fate. Nobody can tell to-night where he will be to-morrow, and yet with the first glimmer of morning the camp is astir, and the preparations begin for staying there forever. An axe, a knife, and a will are tools enough for a soldier house-builder. He will make the mansion and all its belongings of red cedar, from the ridge-pole to the forestick, though a couple of dog-tents stretched from wall to wall will make a roof worth thanking the Lord for. Having been mason and joiner, he turns cabinetmaker; there are his table, his chairs, his sideboard; he glides into upholstery, and there is his bed of bamboo, as full of springs and comfort as a patent mattress. He whips out a needle and turns tailor; he is not above the mysteries of the saucepan and camp-kettle; he can cook, if not quite like a Soyer, yet exactly like a soldier, and you may believe that he can eat you hungry when he is in trim for it. Cosey little cabins, neatly fitted, are going up; here is a boy making a fireplace, and quite artistically plastering it with the inevitable red earth; he has found a crane somewhere, and swung up thereon a two-legged dinner-pot; there a fellow is finishing out a chimney with brick from an old kiln of secession proclivities; yonder a bower-house, closely interwoven with evergreen, is almost ready for the occupants; the avenues between the lines of tents are cleared and smoothed--'policed,' in camp phrase; little seats with cedar awnings in front of the tents give a cottage-look, while the interior, in a rude way, has a genuine homelike air. The bit of looking-glass hangs against the cotton wall; a handkerchief of a carpet just before the bunk marks the stepping-off place to the land of dreams; a violin case is strung to a convenient hook, flanked by a gorgeous picture of some hero of somewhere, mounted upon a horse rampant and saltant, 'and what a length of tail behind!'

"The business of living has fairly begun again. There is hardly an idle moment; and save here and there a man brushing up his musket, getting that 'damned spot' off his bayonet, burnishing his revolver, you would not suspect that these men had but one terrible errand. They are tailors, they are tinkers, they are writers; fencing, boxing, cooking, eating, drilling--those who say that camp life is a lazy life know little about it. And then the reconnoissances 'on private account;' every wood, ravine, hill, field, is explored; the productions, animal and vegetable, are inventoried, and one day renders them as thoroughly conversant with the region round about as if they had been dwelling there a lifetime. Soldiers have interrogation points in both eyes. They have tasted water from every spring and well, estimated the corn to the acre, tried the watermelons, bagged the peaches, knocked down the persimmons, milked the cows, roasted the pigs, picked the chickens; they know who lives here and there and yonder, the whereabouts of the native boys, the names of the native girls. If there is a curious cave, a queer tree, a strange rock anywhere about, they know it. You can see them with chisel, hammer, and haversack, tugging up the mountain, or scrambling down the ravine, in a geological passion that would have won the right hand of fellowship from Hugh Miller, and home they come with specimens that would enrich a cabinet. The most exquisite fossil buds just ready to open, beautiful shells, rare minerals, are collected by these rough and dashing naturalists."

In the larger equipments of the army there was again a superiority in those of the North. Their wagon trains were better, the wagons of a uniform style, and they were marked with the name of regiment and brigade, so that there never was any doubt as to where a stray wagon belonged. The Confederate wagons were of all sorts and shapes and sizes, a job lot, ill-matched, ill-kept, and ill-arranged, and the harnesses were patchwork of inferior strength.

Residents of the South observed with pain one distinction between the armies, which reminds one of Henry W. Grady's remark about General Sherman, that he was a smart man, "but mighty careless about fire." Encamped in a Southern community, a Southern army was careful not to forage promiscuously, or appropriate to its own uses the various provisions and live-stock of the non-combatant people who lived near. But the Northern troops had a feeling that they were in the enemy's {505} country and that they were entitled to live on it. There were orders against unauthorized foraging; but the temptation to bring into camp an occasional chicken, sundry pigs, cows, vegetables, and in some cases even money and jewelry, is said by Southern residents to have sometimes overcome a soldier here and there; so that the visit of a Northern army was the signal for the good people of the neighborhood to get as much of their belongings out of sight as possible. What was taken in this way was taken without the formality of a request, of payment, or of a receipt given, except when the victim claimed to be a loyal Unionist. The Southern soldiers usually paid for what they took, even if it was in Confederate script; but the Northern pillagers did not do even that. Those who recall and chronicle this habit, admit that it was due in great measure to the foreign element in the Northern army, and to the recruits from the large cities, elements which in the Confederate army were comparatively scarce.

The practical jokes that were played on some of the Southern farmers illustrate the tendency on the part of the Northern soldier to "do" a rebel. One farmer drove into a Union camp with a forty-gallon barrel of cider, which he sold by the quart to the men, over the side of his wagon. He was astonished to find that his barrel was empty after he had sold only about twenty quarts, and on investigating the cause, he discovered that while he was engaged in peddling the cider over the side board, some soldiers had put an auger through the bottom of his wagon and into the barrel, and had drawn the rest off into their canteens. Another trader lost the contents of a barrel of brandy which he had stored in a shanty overnight, in a similar manner; while several farmers concluded that it was in vain to go to the Yankee camp with wagon loads of apples or other fruit, unless they had a detachment to guard every side of the wagon, for while they dealt fair over one side, their stock would disappear over the other. One who had suffered in this way came to the conclusion that "the Yankees could take the shortening out of a gingercake without breaking the crust."

SOUTHERN SPIES AND SCOUTS IN THE WAR.

BY F. G. DE FONTAINE.

THE INGENIOUS DEVICE OF A WOMAN--DESPATCHES CONCEALED UNDER THE HIDE OF A DOG--"DEAF BURKE," THE MAN OF MANY DISGUISES--FREQUENT COMMUNICATIONS BETWEEN THE LINES--BISCUIT A MEDIUM OF CORRESPONDENCE--DEATH OF COON HARRIS AT SHILOH--A BOLD UNION SPY--AN EXECUTION AT FRANKLIN, TENN.

The secret service or "spy" system of the South did not differ greatly from that of the North. There may have been in that section a lack of available gold with which to pay expenses when desirable information was required, but there was certainly no absence of courage or patriotism on the part of those who were willing to risk their lives or imprisonment in the event of capture. This was especially true of Southern women; and those who are familiar with their achievements in this field of war will bear witness to the shrewdness, persistence, and fidelity with which they often pursued their dangerous investigations.

One or two incidents will illustrate. It was of the utmost importance to General Beauregard, in 1862, to learn the strength of McClellan's army and whatever facts might relate to his suspected designs on Centreville, Va. For this mission a woman was chosen. She was a young widow whose husband had been killed at the second battle of Manassas; a Virginian of gentle birth; prior to the war a resident of Washington, and a frequent visitor in the society circles of Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. Making her way across the lines, she promptly entered upon her task, and through trusty agents was soon enabled to obtain a complete roster of the Federal army, together with much valuable information concerning its probable movements. She was absent two months.

Returning at the end of this time, she crossed the Potomac opposite Dumfries, Va., an outpost then under the command of Col. (afterward Gen.) Wade Hampton, and the fair spy was promptly forwarded to the Confederate headquarters at Centreville. Her baggage consisted of a small grip-sack and a tiny Scotch terrier. Warmly welcomed by Beauregard, she proceeded with true womanly volubility to entertain him with a description of her adventures and their result. The general patiently permitted the lingual freshet to flow on without interruption, supposing that when she got tired she would produce the expected despatches from other secret agents in the North. But the little woman's tongue seemed to be hung in the middle and to wag at both ends; moreover, she was too pretty to be abruptly silenced by the polite creole commander.

Finally, unable to restrain his anxiety any longer, he said, "Well, Mrs. M., I shall be glad to see your papers."--"I didn't dare to bring them on my person," was the reply; "it was unsafe. In fact, I have been suspected and searched already, and so I familiarized myself with their contents. You see it is fortunate that I have a good memory." At this remark, Beauregard showed his chagrin, and frankly told the lady he could place but little reliance on her memory of so many figures and details, and therefore that her mission had proved of little use.

Listening to his scolding with a demure air, and looking at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she called her dog: "Here, Floy!" The Skye terrier jumped in her lap. "General, have you a knife about you?" The knife was produced. Then she turned the animal over on its back, and, to the amazement of Beauregard, deliberately proceeded to rip him open. In less time than it takes to tell the story, she held in one hand the precious papers and in the other the skin of the Skye terrier, while prancing about the floor was a diminutive black-and-tan pup overjoyed at his relief from an extra cuticle.

The shrewd woman had sewed the despatches between the two skins in a manner that defied detection, and under the very noses of the Federal outposts had brought through the lines some of the most important information transmitted during the war. It is needless to say that Beauregard was delighted, and it was but a little while after this incident that McClellan advanced on Centreville only to find deserted camps, batteries of "Quaker guns," and the Confederate army falling back toward Richmond and Yorktown.

* * * * *

Combining in his person the qualities of scout, sharp-shooter, dare-devil, and spy, a Texan known as "Deaf Burke" made himself famous among the higher officers of Longstreet's corps during the early part of the war. Like Terry of Texas, afterward notorious in California, Adams of Mississippi, Mason of Virginia (brother of the United States senator who with Slidell of {506} Louisiana, became the subject of international complications with England), and many other daring spirits, he was at first merely a volunteer or independent fighter subject to no orders; but his temerity in passing the lines, mingling in disguise with Union officers and soldiers, and his adroitness in securing valuable information quickly brought him to the notice of Lee and Longstreet. He was about forty-five years of age, a natural mimic and dialectician--could talk to you like a simpleton from the backwoods, or a thoroughbred gentleman--and he never lost his nerve. Not far from the Potomac, the writer met him in the garb of a Quaker, but only recognized him at night when incidentally he became a tent mate. Then it was learned that he had just returned from Washington, where during the preceding three weeks he had mingled among Southern sympathizers and secured the information for which he had been sent. Prior to this, disguised as an old farmer living in Fairfax County, Va., he had driven a load of wood across the Federal lines. In one of the logs were concealed the despatches intended for headquarters. Later in the war, when transferred to the West, he distinguished himself as one of twelve sharp-shooters chosen to handle as many Whitworth rifles that had been imported; and still later was killed in battle among the Texans, of whom it was his pride to be considered one.

The comparative ease with which communications were established between the lines is further illustrated by an incident. General Rosecrans and a portion of his staff, when in Tennessee, occupied a mansion not far from the outposts of the two armies. The hostess, Mrs. Thomas, was the wife of a Confederate colonel whose regiment was but a few miles distant. Her negro cook made excellent biscuit, which had become the subject of frequent comment at the table, the general being especially pleased. Mrs. Thomas taking advantage of this circumstance, and her acquaintance with him, suggested the propriety of sending some of the warm breakfast to their mutual friend--her husband. Rosecrans readily agreed, and under his own flag of truce, and through one of his own orderlies, a package of biscuit was duly forwarded to Colonel Thomas with an open letter from his wife. Two hours later, the Confederate officer was in possession of all the available secrets at Federal headquarters, and for weeks afterward the bake oven was the mute agent of communications, some of which proved important to the Southern commanders. The housewife had enclosed her tissue-written missives in the pastry, and the ruse was not discovered until after the war, when the story was told to mutual friends.

In the category of Southern women who in one way or another made their way through the lines, might be included many who carried to the Confederacy supplies of quinine and other articles that could be easily concealed on the person. It is safe to say that hundreds passed backward and forward across the borders of Virginia and Maryland, and with but rare exception their native shrewdness enabled them to escape the vigilance of the pickets on guard.

The bravery of Northern spies in the South is a theme not to be forgotten in this connection. Before General Sherman in his "March to the Sea" reached the several cities through which he was to pass, one or more of his secret agents was sure to be found mingling sociably among the residents. In Savannah, a gentleman appeared as a purchaser of the old wines for which that city was once famous, and remained undiscovered until the end came. In Charleston, news was communicated to the Union officers through the medium of two or three whites and of negroes who made their way to the islands on the coast, and there met and delivered to waiting boats' crews the papers consigned to their care. In Columbia, S. C., an officer wearing the uniform of the Confederate navy visited the best families for more than a month; escorted young ladies to fairs held for the benefit of army hospitals and other entertainments, and made himself generally popular. One of these newly made acquaintances was the daughter of the mayor. After Sherman entered, and the conflagration that destroyed the city was in progress, he repaired to her house and tendered his services. Then for the first time she learned the truth of the saying that she had "entertained an angel unawares." He aided materially in saving the property of the family and affording desired protection.

The task of a spy in the army was not so easy. It was full of personal danger. Success meant the praise of his superiors and possible promotion. Failure might mean an ignominious death. After the battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg Landing as it is sometimes known, one Coon Harris, a Tennesseean, went through the Confederate army without detection, but in a skirmish a few days afterward he was captured while acting as guide to a column moving to attack a weak point in the Confederate lines. Bragg was in command, and the poor fellow had but a short shrift. Tried by a drum-head court martial, he was sentenced to be shot at daylight.

In his calm demeanor he illustrated how a brave man animated by a high principle can die. There was no pageantry, no clergyman with his last rites, no nothing, save a handful of curious spectators following a rude army wagon wherein, on a rough box called by courtesy a coffin, sat unbound a middle-aged farmer in his butternut suit, riding to his death. Not the closest observer could have discovered any difference in coolness between him and a bystander. Arriving at the place of execution he jumped lightly from the wagon, lingered a moment to see his coffin removed, and then sauntered carelessly down the little valley to the tree beneath which he was to meet his fate.

{507} The ceremony was brief. The officer in charge of the shooting squad asked him if he had any final message to leave. "Yes," was the reply; "tell my family that my last thoughts were of them, and that I died doing my duty to my State and country!" Then his arms were pinioned, the faded brown coat was buttoned across his breast, and he sat down upon his coffin. A handkerchief was tied over his eyes, and voluntarily he laid his head back against the tree. Even now, preserving his remarkable self-possession, he called for a piece of tobacco, and, chewing upon it vigorously, occupied several seconds in adjusting his head to the bark of the tree, as one would fit himself to a pillow before going to sleep. Then he quietly said, "Boys, ready!"

A file of eight men stepped forward until within ten paces of the doomed man; the order was given to "Fire!" and with a splash of brains, and a trickling rivulet of blood down his hairy breast, the soul of the brave man passed into the keeping of the Creator.

During the first march of the Confederate army into Maryland, a handsome young fellow, one Charles Mason, who gave his home as Perrysville, Penn., boldly intercepted a courier who was carrying an order. "What division do you belong to?" he inquired. "Longstreet's," was the reply; "what's yours?" asked the courier. "Jackson's." The presence of a gray uniform favored this statement, and the two rode together. The courier, however, observed a disposition on the part of his companion to drop behind, and suddenly was confronted by a pistol and a demand for the delivery of his despatches. Not being promptly forthcoming, the spy fired, secured the papers, and galloped away. The Confederate lived long enough to describe his assailant and make his identification certain.

A few hours afterward the man became a victim to his own daring. Riding up to the head of a column, he said to the general in command: "I am from General Jackson; he desires me to request you to halt and await further orders."--"I am not in the habit of receiving my orders from General Jackson," answered the officer; "what command do you belong to?" Hesitating an instant, the spy said: "To the Hampton Legion." "In whose brigade and division is that?" continued the general. The pretended courier confessed that he had forgotten. Taken into custody, a search revealed his true character. On his person were found shorthand and other notes, a pair of lieutenant's shoulder straps, and other evidences of his calling. A drum-head court martial was promptly convened, and he was sentenced to be hanged then and there. He met his fate stoically, and without other expressed regret save that, since his mission had been a failure, he could not die the death of a soldier.

"On June 9, 1863," wrote a correspondent of the Nashville _Press_, "two strangers rode into the Union camp, at Franklin, Tenn., and boldly presented themselves at Colonel Baird's headquarters. They wore Federal regulation trousers and caps, the latter covered with white flannel havelocks, and carried side arms. Both showed high intelligence. One claimed to be a colonel in the United States army, the other a major, and they represented that they were inspecting the outposts and defences. Official papers purporting to be signed by General Rosecrans, and also from the War Department at Washington, seemed to confirm this statement. So impressive was their manner, in fact, that Colonel Baird, at the request of the elder officer, loaned him fifty dollars, the plea being that they had been overhauled by the enemy and had lost their wardrobe and purses.

"Just before dark they left camp, saying they were going to Nashville, and started in that direction. Suddenly, said Colonel Baird, in describing the occurrence, the thought flashed upon him that they might be spies; and turning to Colonel Watkins, of the Sixth Kentucky cavalry, who was standing near by, he ordered him to go in pursuit. Being overtaken, they were placed under arrest, and General Rosecrans was informed by telegraph. He quickly answered that he knew nothing of the men, and had given no passes of the kind described.

"With this evidence in hand their persons were searched, and various papers still further showing their guilt were found. On the major's sword was found etched the name, 'Lieutenant W. G. Peter, Lieutenant Confederate Army.' They then confessed.

"Colonel Baird at once telegraphed the facts to General Rosecrans, and asked what should be done. The reply was: 'Try them by a drum-head court martial, and if found guilty, hang them immediately.' The court was convened, and before daylight the prisoners knew they must die. A little after nine o'clock that morning the whole garrison was marshalled around the place of execution, the guards, in tribute to their gallantry, being ordered to march with arms reversed. The unfortunate men made no complaint of the severity of their punishment, but regretted, as brave men might do, the ignominy of being hung, and a few hours afterward both were buried in the same grave."

The history of the war on both sides is full of similar instances of daring, and since the curtain has fallen upon the bloody drama, and the voices of passion are hushed amid the anthems of peace, it is no longer in the hearts of true Americans to withhold the honor that belongs to all our heroes, whether they wore the blue or the gray.

{508} [Illustration: A GROUP OF CONFEDERATE OFFICERS. BRIGADIER-GENERAL RANDALL LEE GIBSON. MAJOR-GENERAL ARNOLD ELZEY. BRIGADIER-GENERAL ROGER A. PRYOR. BRIGADIER-GENERAL THOMAS L. CLINGMAN. BRIGADIER-GENERAL EPPA HUNTON. BRIGADIER-GENERAL A. R. LAWTON. BRIGADIER-GENERAL M. W. GARY. LIEUTENANT-GENERAL SIMON B. BUCKNER. MAJOR-GENERAL M. B. YOUNG. MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY W. ALLEN. MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM SMITH.]

NORTHERN SPIES AND SCOUTS IN THE WAR.

BY HENRY W. B. HOWARD.

IS THE RÔLE OF A SPY DISHONORABLE?--THE SPY A NECESSARY ELEMENT IN A CAMPAIGN--REMARKABLE HEROISM--ONE OF GENERAL GRANT'S SPIES--HOW HE ESCAPED BEING BURIED ALIVE--THE FIGHT OF A SPY WITH A BLOODHOUND--THE PERILOUS ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN LEIGHTON, OF MICHIGAN--THE VARIED AND THRILLING ADVENTURES OF COL. L. C. BAKER--HIS EXPERIENCES AS A YANKEE SPY IN RICHMOND--MISS EMMA EDMONDS, A NOTED NORTHERN SPY--PASSING THROUGH THE CONFEDERATE LINES DISGUISED AS A NEGRO BOY--A FEMALE UNION SPY IN THE CONFEDERATE CAVALRY.

Military writers have not been entirely agreed as to whether the rôle of spy is an honorable part to play in warfare. Much stress has been laid on the necessarily disgraceful nature of a calling that can justly subject one to the hangman. The ignominy of this punishment is held to relieve all soldiers from the _duty_ of service as spies, even under orders, and in consequence all spies are necessarily volunteers. But it is agreed, on the other hand, that the death penalty which is inevitable for the detected spy is intended, not as a punishment for the individual, but as a measure of preventing the spy from carrying on his work, so full of danger to his enemy. This lack of personal responsibility is so well understood, that a spy successful in his expedition is not liable to death after its completion, and {509} if subsequently captured in battle may not be executed for having previously been a spy.

But however at variance they may be as to the nature of his calling, all critics are of one mind in regarding the work of the spy an absolutely necessary element in the conduct of a campaign by the commander. Without it, he would be at a loss as to the most essential facts that must govern his movements. The strength of the enemy, the nature and advantages of his position, the best approaches to it, the ground commanded by his batteries, as well as his intentions--all these and many other details must be in some degree known to a commander who would direct his troops with safety or success. Some of this information he can pick up from resident non-combatants; some he can wrest from his unwilling prisoners; some he can purchase from treacherous members of the force opposing him. But for most of it he is absolutely dependent on the brave men in his own command who are willing, for the sake of their cause, to risk the death that awaits the spy caught in the enemy's country.

These men certainly cannot be regarded with the contempt which a commander feels for the mere tools of whose treachery, cupidity, or indifference he avails himself while scorning the instrument. And, if not that, then they must be regarded as heroic even beyond those of their fellows who are as brave as lions on the field of battle. For their mission is a solitary one, and they have none of the cheering companionship and stimulating emulation that bring courage for the charge. Instead of being under fire for a few brief moments or hours, their nerves are on the rack for days and weeks. With no commanding officer to obey as he orders them here or there, they are thrown on their own resources in the most perilous and trying situations. They must avoid dangerous meetings, disarm suspicions, turn aside questions, invent lies by the hundred without having one contradict another. A constant play of quick wits, steady nerves, and, at the right moment, prompt and courageous physical force, elevates the work of a spy to a fine art, in comparison with which the mere enthusiastic bravery of the battlefield is child's play. Darkly threatening throughout all this perilous work is the imminent and ever-present risk of detection, with its certainty of a death, not glorious like that of those who fall in the hand-to-hand conflict, not the ordinary fortune of war like that of the sharp-shooter's victim brought down at long range, not even invested with the pathos of a death, however sudden, among sympathizing comrades--but the death of a dog, promptly dealt out, without a friendly face among the spectators.

A good illustration of the consummate skill, coolness of head, and strength of will and nerve required in this duty was given by a scout named Hancock, attached to General Grant's army in Virginia. He had failed to escape detection, and was sent under guard to Castle Thunder, in Richmond. His situation was most perilous; but this did not prevent his utilizing his innate joviality to lighten the life of his fellow-prisoners, and bringing his wonderful power of facial expression to bear on the great object of his own escape. In the midst of one of his songs in the prison he suddenly threw up his hands with a cry, fell to the ground in a heap, and lay there so obviously dead that the post surgeon--not over-solicitous to keep a Yankee above ground--pronounced him a case for the grave-digger, and he was bundled into a pine coffin and started on his last journey. But when the driver reached the burying-place, the coffin was empty. Hancock had dexterously slid from the wagon, and, it being night, had joined the followers on foot without detection. When the driver reported back to the prison, the trick was suspected, and a sharp lookout was ordered, which he evaded in the most unexpected way. He went direct to the best hotel in Richmond and registered from Georgia, had a good night's rest, and spent the following day, in the character of a government contractor, in learning what he wanted to know about the city. He was twice arrested by the guards, and escaped the first time through the intervention and identification of the hotel clerk. The second time he was returned to the prison, where for seven days he concealed his identity by assuming a squint and a distortion of feature, which he abandoned when he learned that imprisonment was all he had to fear, as by that time the war was virtually over. Ten days later he was set at liberty with his fellow-prisoners.

The peril of a spy's career is not intermittent, like that of active fighting; it is continuous. A moment may give him his liberty or may bring him face to face with death. An unnamed scout of the Army of the Potomac--so many of these heroic men are even to this day unnamed--had collected his intelligence in the enemy's country, and had arrived close to the stream beyond which were the Union lines. In the darkness of the night, with the sense of danger keen within him, he groped his way along the shore, seeking the skiff he had concealed there for his return. To his horror it dawned on him that he had missed his landmark and could not find the boat. There he stood, the evidences of his calling unmistakably on him, knowing that he had been suspected and followed, and realizing that only a few minutes were his in which to complete his escape. Nothing could exceed the mental agony of the next quarter hour. Under stress of danger he had just let himself into the water, determined to attempt to swim the wide stream as a forlorn hope, when suddenly the baying of a bloodhound dashed even this faint hope from him, and presently the crackling of twigs announced the near approach of the savage pursuer. But there were evidences that for the moment the dog was at fault, and in mere desperation the hunted man waded beneath the overhanging banks where he might sell his life as dearly as possible. Something struck against his breast. He could not restrain a cry as he seized what proved to be his missing boat. In an instant he had clambered in and cast off the line, when a sudden gleam of moonlight breaking through the clouds revealed at the other end of the log to which the boat had been moored the crouching figure of the bloodhound, poising for a spring. Simultaneously with the leap of the dog, the skiff darted out into the stream. A blow with the oar aimed at the head of the animal nearly upset the fragile craft and was easily eluded by the dog, which, swimming forward, laid its forepaws on the gunwale and attempted to seize the edge of the boat with his teeth. The situation was desperate. Laying aside his revolver, a shot from which would have drawn a volley from the shore, the brave scout seized his bowie-knife, and with one frenzied stroke cut the throat of the bloodhound, severing its neck clean to the back. The dog sank from sight, and the man was free! A few minutes' quiet pulling landed him on the further shore, whence a brief walk brought him to camp, to tell his adventures and turn in his stock of information.

Perhaps as thrilling an experience as ever was reported was that which fell to the lot of Captain Leighton, formerly of a Michigan battery, but led by the fascination of adventure into scout and spy duty. It was brief, but so charged with peril and nerve-tension that in a few short hours he seemed to have lived days, and needed a long sleep after it, as though he had been awake for a week. In a single afternoon he left his own camp and rode into the enemy's country, passing two pickets, killed a {510} guard, listened to the council of war in the tent of the rebel general, fought his way back through the pickets, who now knew his mission, set off the signal agreed on, and rode to safety on his unusually fleet horse. The first picket he met on his way out was misled by supposing him to be a spy of their own returning with information, and from them he got what sounded like the countersign, but was not, as he discovered when, riding on, he attempted with it to pass the sentry near the rebel general's tent. The sentry pulled trigger on him, but the cap snapped on the musket, there was a hand-to-hand scuffle not a hundred yards from the camp, and the sentry was stabbed to the heart. Clad in the sentry's uniform, under cover of the night, he heard from the very lips of the general and his council the secret he was in search of--that the enemy would mass on the left wing to meet the attack of the morrow--sauntered carelessly about as the council dispersed, and then mounted his superb gray and was off. It was a perilous ride, for every picket he had passed in the afternoon fired on him as he rode through, and it was indeed a charmed life that escaped their bullets. The last picket he had to pass--the same that had mistaken him for a rebel scout--was numerous, and met him with a volley, followed up by a sharp attack with sabres and revolvers. Shooting, stabbing, slashing, and swearing like a fiend, wounded and wounding, he fought his way through them, and then fled onward, reeling in his saddle with excitement and loss of blood, until, arrived at the hollow stump where his rockets were concealed, he set them both off (thus giving the desired information to his own commander). Then, emptying his revolver at his nearest pursuer, he again rode away, unharmed further by the shots that followed him like hail. What added to the bravery of this deed was the fact that he knowingly went out to replace a scout who had been killed the night before on the very same mission.

All spies were not so fortunate as to complete their expeditions in one day. Sometimes, although in comparative safety, they were unable to get out of the enemy's territory for many days. An Illinois private, named Newcomer, who had just missed some important battles, was accustomed to vary the monotony of his camp life in Alabama by making secret trips after information overnight. This work suited him so well that he determined on a more extensive expedition among the guerilla cavalry that he learned from a negro lay some miles below the Union camp. His first bold act was to crawl into a corn-crib where a number of these men lay sleeping, their horses picketed outside, and, feeling around, he calmly drew a good revolver from the belt of one of the unconscious sleepers, having the good luck to wake none of them up. He had provided himself with a forged certificate of discharge from the rebel army, by means of which he was by some unsuspecting Southern sympathizers put in communication with a Southern agent for the purchase of stores, named Radcliffe, who was known to everybody in and about Franklin, Tenn., and who vouched for him throughout his stay among the Confederates. He took on the character of one seeking office in the rebel army, and as a seller of contraband articles obtained from the North. In this guise, turning up at Radcliffe's house as occasion required, he explored the situation and reported back to his superiors at Nashville. Before he got back he had serious trouble in getting away from Shelbyville, for lack of a pass. A good-natured crowd, to whom he had dispensed the contents of his whiskey flask, were willing to help him away, but stuck at telling the provost marshal that they knew him; but it was finally managed by writing his name on the collective pass on which they travelled. Lagging behind them on the road, he turned off in the direction he wanted to go, only to fall into the hands of one of Morgan's bands of scouts, who swore he was a Yankee, and actually had the halter around his neck to hang him on the spot, when he succeeded in persuading them to take him back to Radcliffe for identification, where he was released, and {511} then was furnished by Radcliffe with a written voucher on which he succeeded in making his way, after many exciting and perilous adventures, to his commander. He brought him the important news, confided to him by a rebel who took him for a fellow spy, of a projected attack on the Union fleet on the river, and steps were taken that saved the ships.

Perhaps the most varied experience was that of Col. L. C. Baker, who organized the secret service, and performed himself every duty, from that of actual spy to that of chief of the national police, beginning with a personal expedition to Richmond and ending with the capture of Wilkes Booth, the assassin of President Lincoln. His first Richmond trip was made in July, 1861, under cover of a general movement of Southern sympathizers away from the North. General Scott himself sent him to obtain information concerning the strength and disposition of troops in the Confederate capital. His greatest difficulty at the outset was to get through the Northern lines without betraying his errand, and three times he was sent back to General Scott as a Southern spy. Finally he got through, and, armed with letters to prominent residents of Richmond, he was promptly forwarded on his way, but was carefully turned over to Jefferson Davis himself, who kept him under guard while he made up his mind whether the stranger was a spy or the "Mr. Munson" he pretended to be with business in Richmond. Succeeding in getting satisfactorily identified through a sort of "bunco" self-introduction to a man from Knoxville, where he claimed to have lived, he was paroled and turned loose in Richmond. When he had picked up the information he desired, he began his efforts to get back to Washington with his precious news. A pass to visit Fredericksburg enabled him to leave Richmond, but an attempt to go further on the same pass only got him into the hands of a patrol. But he soon not only eluded his sleepy guard, but rode off on the sentry's horse as well. Followed and surrounded in a negro cabin where he had stopped to rest, he managed to hide under a haystack, where he narrowly escaped the searching sabre-thrust of his pursuers, and then made again for the Potomac. Hunger induced him to risk introducing himself to two German pickets guarding the bank on the Confederate side of that river, and they hospitably kept him in their tent overnight, though they watched him closely and made him a semi-prisoner. The watches of the night he consumed in vain endeavors to crawl out of the tent while his captors slept; but they slept "with one eye open," as it were, and it was not until dawn that he managed unobserved to get down to the river-bank, secure the pickets' boat with its single broken oar, and push for liberty out into the stream. The men were quickly after him, however, and he had to shoot one of them to save himself, while the other ran for assistance. The detachment that quickly reached the shore made the water about his craft uncomfortably lively with their bullets; but he fortunately managed to paddle out of range without being hit, and after a row of four miles, which was the width of the river at that point, he reached the Maryland shore and made his way to Washington.

The papers with which Baker had been intrusted at Richmond gave him much information involving Northern traitors who were aiding the Southern cause, and for some time he was engaged in the work of bringing them to justice. But he occasionally returned to special duty, as he did in the autumn of 1863, when, after Pope's defeat by Lee, great solicitude was felt for the safety of Banks's army, the whereabouts of which even was unknown, and in ignorance of Lee's success Banks was supposed to be seeking a junction with Pope. Baker undertook to carry informing despatches to Banks, and to bring that officer's report back to Washington. Mounted on the famous race-horse "Patchen," he succeeded in reaching Banks near Manassas without adventure, but his return trip was full of peril. Conscious of the great importance of haste, he started straight for the rebel lines between himself and Washington, and after riding two miles to the eastward he caught sight of the hostile army near the old Bull Run battlefield. To save time, instead of making a detour to avoid them, he halted and awaited an opportunity of slipping through, availing himself of the detached order of march in which the enemy was proceeding. A break in the column soon gave him this chance, and although he knew that he would become a target for every marksman that saw him, the intrepid Baker nerved himself for a quick and desperate dash and gave spurs to his splendid steed. Lying close to Patchen's neck, he flew like an arrow within thirty feet of a squad of infantry, but had the good luck to bring both himself and his horse through without harm from the bullets that whistled thick about them. A squad of cavalry quickly took up the pursuit; but, tired as he was, Patchen soon distanced all but a few who were particularly well mounted. For nine miles the chase continued, the pursuers dropping off until only three remained, when fatigue began to tell on both horse and rider. Then, turning a low hill, Baker wheeled sharply about and concealed himself in a clump of pines, while his pursuers rode past unconscious of his presence. But they soon discovered that there was no longer any one in front of them. Returning, one of them was apprised of Baker's whereabouts by a slight movement of the latter's horse, and the crisis of the adventure was at hand. Baker shot down one Confederate cavalryman, and then turned sharply off the path to avoid the other two, who were now on their way back. But, although he passed them, it was not without their seeing him, and, firing their carbines, they renewed the pursuit. Spurring Patchen to a final burst of speed, Baker plunged into the swollen waters of Bull Run, hoping to get across before his pursuers could reach the bank and fire at him in mid-stream. This he accomplished, and had even clambered up the almost perpendicular bank beyond by the time the rebels had plunged in to follow him over. Before Baker could fire on them the Union pickets, attracted by the shots, came running to the edge of the bluff. Baker shouted out his errand, and the pickets with a volley emptied one of the Confederate saddles, while the remaining pursuer escaped to tell the tale. This was a pretty close call for Baker, but it was typical of the scout's experience, and illustrated well the many serious chances taken by every successful seeker after information in the enemy's territory.

The spies of the war were not all men. Many women on both sides did effective secret work for the cause they espoused. Perhaps this agency was more common among the Southern than the Northern sympathizers. Residence in the North was free from the necessity of accounting for one's presence and business as rigidly as in the South; and not only in Washington and the border towns, but in all the cities of the North, the rebels had fair emissaries who kept them pretty well informed of passing events. Among the Northern women who did good service during the war, both as spy and nurse, was Miss Emma Edmonds. After spending several months in the hospitals of the Army of the Potomac, she volunteered to take the place of a spy who had been executed at Richmond. Disguised as a colored boy, she soon found herself within the rebel lines, where she joined a gang of negroes who were carrying provisions to {512} the pickets, and afterward working on the fortifications at Yorktown. After doing a man's day's work, she used her evening liberty in making a careful inspection of the defences, counting the guns, etc., and picked up much other information through the free discussion of what was going on, common in the rebel army among both officers and men. Her opportunity to get back to the Union lines came when, on visiting the pickets with their evening meal, she was for a time stationed on the post of a picket who had just been shot; for while the adjacent pickets had their backs turned, she slipped away into the darkness, carrying her valuable information with her. Later on she made another secret expedition, this time in the guise of an Irish female peddler. Her first experience on this trip was the discovery of a wounded and dying Confederate officer in a deserted house, and the mementos and messages for home which he confided to her proved to be her passport to the rebel headquarters. She had already gained from the pickets and the men about the camp the information she was seeking, and was quite ready to return, when she was sent, mounted, to guide a detachment to bring back the dead officer's body from the house near her own lines, and thus was fairly started on her way. The expedition of the detachment was a somewhat perilous one for them, and they sent her farther down the road to watch for Yankees and give them timely warning of the approach of any from the Union side. Not seeing any Yankees in that vicinity, she kept on until she did--and then she was safe back in her own quarters, and the Union troops were soon able to cross the Chickahominy with a pretty fair knowledge of the enemy's dispositions and purposes.

Miss Edmonds had a strange career for a woman. She kept with the Union advance, varying her womanly ministrations in camp and field hospital with occasional duty as an orderly and on secret service. She entered the Confederate lines, now as a contraband, now as a rebel soldier. In the latter character she was impressed into the Confederate cavalry and went into action, where she managed to change sides during the fight and to wound the rebel officer who had conscripted her. After this adventure her secret service had perforce to be confined to the Union lines, for she had become pretty well known in all the disguises she could assume.

The experiences of all scouts and spies can be well understood from the instances that have now been given. Their work was most important, and their days were filled with thrilling adventure, most fascinating to adventurous spirits. Many of them never lived to tell their story, but received the prompt justice of a drum-head court martial and a short shrift. Their performances rose often to the height of heroism, and their prowess, when they found themselves in close quarters, equalled anything ever done on the battlefield.

{513}

IMPORTANT HISTORY SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE GROUP OF SHERMAN AND HIS GENERALS. (See page 30.)

This picture was to consist of General Sherman, his two army-commanders, and the four corps-commanders in charge at the close of the war.

It does not, however, contain the portrait of General Blair, who was absent on a short leave. At the time the photograph was taken, I [General Howard] was no longer connected with General Sherman's army. My picture was included for the following reason:

After the army's arrival near Washington, I was assigned to other duty, and General Logan took my place in command of the Army of the Tennessee. When the group was made up, as I had been so long identified with that army, General Sherman desired me to be included. General Logan was seated for the picture where I would have sat, had there been no late change of commanders. In all the field operations from Atlanta to the sea, and from Savannah through the Carolinas to Raleigh, and on to Washington, I was denominated "the right wing commander," and General Slocum "the left wing commander." The division of cavalry under Kilpatrick was sometimes independent of either wing, but usually reported for orders to one wing or the other, as Sherman directed.

The right wing was the "Army of the Tennessee;" the left wing, the "Army of Georgia." In the field service, from Atlanta on, each wing had two army corps, as follows: the right wing, the Fifteenth and Seventeenth; the left wing, the Fourteenth and Twentieth Corps. When General Logan passed to the charge of the Army of the Tennessee, General Hazen was assigned to command the Fifteenth Corps. Though absent, General Blair retained the Seventeenth Corps. After our march, for some reason--I think for Mower's promotion--Gen. A. S. Williams had been relieved from the Twentieth Corps, and General Mower assigned to his place. The Fourteenth Corps, which Gen. George H. Thomas had so long and so ably commanded, was during all that march under the direction of Gen. Jefferson C. Davis.

* * * * *

It may be of interest, while inspecting this noted picture, to recall something characteristic of the men who compose it. Let us begin with the junior officer of the group.

MAJOR-GENERAL JEFFERSON C. DAVIS.

General Davis, promoted to a volunteer appointment from the regular army, became early conspicuous as a successful commander in Missouri and other Western fields. For example, he captured one thousand prisoners at Milford, repelled Confederate attack upon Sigel's centre at Pea Ridge, commanded a division at Stone River, and took as prisoners one hundred and fourteen of Wheeler's raiders.

In August, 1862, ill-health constrained him to leave the front for a short time, when he visited his home in Clarke County, Ind. The northward movement of the Confederates against Louisville subsequently caused him to hasten to that city and volunteer his services to General Nelson.

This general, William Nelson, a native of Kentucky, was a middle-aged naval officer at the breaking out of the war. His experience in Mexico, his strong character as a loyal Kentuckian, had caused his transfer to the army. Among undisciplined masses of volunteers he had already done wonders. He attained special distinction as a division commander under Buell at the fiercely contested battle of Shiloh; but with all his patriotism, energy, and capability, he was a martinet in discipline, very often giving great offence by his rough language and impatient ways.

Gen. Jefferson C. Davis had hardly come in contact with Nelson when he was subjected to treatment that offended him greatly.

Davis was of slender build, while Nelson was a large and powerful man. Davis endeavored, without success, to get an apology from Nelson for hard words and mistreatment. Abbott, in his History of the Civil War, shows how he was met:

"Here he (Davis) was outrageously insulted by General Nelson, and after demanding an apology and receiving only reiterated abuse, he (Davis) shot him on the stairs of the Galt House. General Nelson died in a few hours. General Davis was arrested, but was soon released, sustained by the almost universal sympathy of the public and of the army."

In subsequent years it was my lot to be on duty with General Davis. He reported to me and was under my command while pursuing the Confederates under Bragg, just after the battle of Missionary Ridge, November 25, 1863. His method of covering his front and flanks with skirmishers, and holding his troops well in hand for the prompt deployment, greatly pleased me. He was one of those officers constantly on the _qui vive_, impossible {514} to surprise, difficult to defeat, and ever ready, at command, effectively to take the offensive. He succeeded to the Fourteenth Corps because Gen. John M. Palmer, offended at a decision of General Sherman, resigned the position. While Davis was a just man, he was strongly prejudiced against negroes, often, in his conversations, declaiming against them. But subsequent to the war, when commanding the State of Kentucky, acting as Assistant Commissioner for Freedmen, he took strong grounds against all lawless white men who sought to do them injury. In 1874, when a confusion of counsels had caused endless complications during the Modoc War in Southern Oregon, General Davis was, as a final resort, selected and despatched to the scene of operations. His unfailing courage and steady action soon ended the war. The Modocs were conquered, taken prisoners, and their savage and treacherous leaders punished.

I had many a conversation with General Davis. He would lead me when we were alone, in a few minutes, according to the bias of his heart, to the subject of his difficulty with Nelson. Though others exculpated him, his own heart never seemed to be at rest. It was more to himself than to others the one cloud in his otherwise unblemished, patriotic career.

MAJOR-GENERAL WILLIAM B. HAZEN

entered the military academy one year after me (1851), so that I was associated with him there for three years. As a young man, he was very thin of flesh, so much so as to cause remark. The first time I saw him after graduation, he was on a visit to West Point, in 1860. He had been in many Indian engagements in Texas and New Mexico, and had been brevetted for gallant conduct in battle; his arm at that time was in a sling, he having been wounded with an arrow.

A most wonderful change had taken place in his personal appearance. Instead of a young man of cadaverous build, he was large, fleshy, handsome. As a cadet he had been very retiring; now quite the opposite--in fact, he soon became remarkable among us for his bold frontier stories and an increased self-esteem.

Such was Hazen at the breaking out of the war. He went to the front in Kentucky, commanding the Forty-first Ohio Volunteers. During the series of operations and battles in which he was engaged, he maintained in his commands unusual neatness of attire and excellent discipline, and received for himself four brevets for gallant and meritorious service; the last being that of major-general in the regular army. Probably his most distinguished effort, one which called the especial attention of General Sherman to his merit, was the taking, under my orders, of Fort McAllister, December 13, 1864. He at that time had charge of a division, assisted in building a long bridge over the Ogeechee, crossed with his men, and, pushing on rapidly southward, completely environed Fort McAllister from sea-shore to sea-shore. General Sherman, with myself, more inland, were watching his operations in plain view from a rice-mill on the other side of the Ogeechee. The sudden and persistent attack, the exploding of numerous torpedoes, the tremendous vigor of the defence, afforded us an exciting scene, which ended in a much-needed victory; for this fort at the mouth of the river was the last obstruction between our army and the supplies which were coming from the sea. This success of Hazen caused me to recommend him for further promotion to the command of the Fifteenth Army Corps; and this was his crowning honor in the great war.

MAJOR-GENERAL JOSEPH A. MOWER.

I found General Mower in command of the First Division Sixteenth Army Corps (a little later, of a division in the Seventeenth Army Corps, under General Blair); that was when I came to the Army of the Tennessee at Atlanta. He was already well known in that army. In conversation around campfires staff-officers spoke of him in this way: "Mower is a rough diamond;" "He is rather a hard case in peace;" "He cannot be beaten on the march;" "You ought to see him in battle."

These expressions indicate somewhat the character of the man. About six feet in height, well proportioned and of great muscular strength, probably there was no officer in our picture group who was better fitted in every way for hard campaigning. On one occasion during the march through the Carolinas, as we approached the westernmost branch of the Edisto, all the country had apparently been swept by the inhabitants clean of supplies. The cattle and horses had been driven eastward beyond the river, and all food carried off or hidden. As I approached a house near the river crossing, I saw General Mower and his staff apparently in conversation with the owner, who had, for some purpose, remained behind his fleeing people in his almost empty tenement. Mower was asking him questions: these the man at first evaded, or answered derisively. Then, becoming angry at Mower's persistence, he refused to tell anything. The general, just as I was passing through the gate, said to an orderly, in his deep, strong, decisive voice: "Orderly, fetch a rope!" He did not intimate what he proposed to do with the rope, but one {515} glance at Mower's face was sufficient for the stranger. He immediately became courteous, and gave Mower all the information he desired as to the roads, bridges, and neighboring country. A few days later I was with Mower's division when he fought his way across the main stream near Orangeburgh. His energy in leading his men through swamps, directing them while they were cutting the cypresses, making temporary bridges, wading streams, constructing and carrying the canvas boats, ferrying the river, and appearing with marvellous rapidity upon the enemy's right or left flank on the open fortified bluff of the eastern shore, drew my attention more than ever to Mower's capabilities. I remember when we stood together inside the first captured work, while our men were rushing for the railroad above and below the city, Mower dismounted, and looking at me with his face full of glad triumph, said: "_Fait accompli!_ General, _fait accompli!_"

At Bentonville, the 20th and 21st of March, 1865, I saw Mower ride into battle. As he approached the firing, the very sound of it gave him a new inspiration; his muscular limbs gripped his horse, and he leaned forward apparently carrying the animal with him into the conflict. He was the only officer I ever saw who manifested such intense joy for battle. At last, having brought his division through the woods and a little beyond the left flank of the Confederate commander (General Johnston), Mower and one or two of his staff dismounted, so as to work himself with his men through a dense thicket where he could not ride. The point sought in Johnston's left rear was just gained by the indomitable Mower, when General Sherman called us off, saying "that there had been fighting enough." Concerning this event, General Sherman, in his "Memoirs," makes a significant remark:

"The next day (21st) it began to rain again, and we remained quiet till about noon, when General Mower, ever rash, broke through the rebel line, on his extreme left flank, and was pushing straight for Bentonville and the bridge across Mill Creek. I ordered him back, to connect with his own corps; and lest the enemy should concentrate on him, ordered the whole rebel line to be engaged with a strong skirmish fire."

MAJOR-GENERAL FRANCIS PRESTON BLAIR, JR.,

whose biography is in every public library, is too well known to require a detail of introduction.

As early as 1843 he formed a law partnership with his brother Montgomery, in the city of St. Louis, Mo.; here he worked till his health gave way. Requiring a change of climate, he went to New Mexico. While he was there General Kearney, as soon as the Mexican war came on, began operations which ended in his grand march to the Pacific coast. Young Blair was a volunteer aid, and by his intelligence and energy gave that general the effective help which he needed. This short service in the Mexican war was enough to beget in Blair a taste for military reading and study; so that, being in St. Louis at the fever period of the outbreak of the great rebellion in 1861, he was not unprepared for the double part he was soon called upon to play.

Having been elected and sent to Congress in 1858, previously having had a term in the Missouri Legislature, in both as a "Freesoiler," he threw all his political ability and knowledge upon the side of the Union. As a military man, he promptly acted and greatly helped in organizing and raising troops. Probably it is due to his energy more than to anything else that St. Louis and Missouri were kept to the Union. Mr. Lincoln, who had the greatest confidence in Blair, commissioned him a brigadier-general in August, 1862. He performed thereafter no obscure part in all those battles along the Mississippi, which ended in the capture of Vicksburg. He was rapidly advanced from command of a brigade to that of a division and corps in Grant's Army of the Tennessee. His name and able work are identified with both the Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps.

The first time I saw General Blair was on November 25, 1863; it was in the evening after Sherman's first hot charge up the rough steeps on the north end of Missionary Ridge. Part of my command had participated in the bloody work of the day, and General Grant had detached the remainder of my corps from General Thomas on the straight front, and sent us around to strengthen Sherman. It was an informal council of war in the woods, by a small campfire, where I met for the first time Generals Tom Ewing, Jefferson C. Davis, and Blair. The latter, who was obliged at times to go to civil duties in Congress, had then, as I was told, just returned from Washington. He brought to us the latest messages from Mr. Lincoln. He had on a light blue soldier's overcoat; it was distinguished by a broad, elegant fur collar. In repose and in photograph, Blair's countenance might pass one as ordinary; but as soon as he spoke it was suffused with light and animation. He was five feet ten, and not fleshy. He walked about the fire, and with his ready talk, never too serious, kept Sherman and all the party, for such a sad night, in fair humor; for our best men had been stopped short of the coveted tunnel, and many of them were driven with heavy losses down the rugged slopes. The whole man so impressed me that night, that I never forgot him. During the march to the sea, in skirmish, campaign, and battle, Blair was often with me; many a day's journey we rode side by side.

{516} [Illustration: THE BATTLE OF ATLANTA, JULY 22, 1864--FULLER'S DIVISION RALLYING AFTER BEING FORCED BACK BY THE CONFEDERATES.]

His mind was replete with knowledge. As we, talking together, recalled the battles of the Revolution in the Carolinas, and often differed in discussing them, Blair would say: "Well, general, let us go to Sherman; he never forgets anything!" I may add that the reference was always the settlement of the question, for Sherman's historic knowledge was unfailing. Blair's forte was the law. I knew fairly well the army regulations; but Blair always went back of the regulations to the statute law and {517} the Constitution. His mind was a compendium--one always at hand for me; and it was pleasant to consult him, for he never took advantage in an ungenerous manner of the superiority of his knowledge, but ever, without abating his most loyal service, gave me the information I desired.

During the great march through Georgia and the Carolinas the necessity of "foraging liberally on the country," of destroying property, as cotton in bales, factories of all kinds, store-houses, and other buildings of a public and private nature, troubled General Blair very much. The conduct of bummers, camp-followers, and of many robbers, who preceded or followed in the wake of the armies in their destruction and depredation of private dwellings, vexed him still more. One day in May, 1865, as we were nearing North Carolina, Blair was riding with me for the day. After a period of silence, he said: "General, I am getting weary of all this business. Can't we do something to bring it to a close? All this terrible waste and destruction and bloodshed appear to me now to be useless." I do not remember my reply, but I do recall a visit I made to General Sherman about that time, when I urged him not to destroy the works at Fayetteville Arsenal, N. C. I said: "General, the war will soon be over; this property is ours [that is, the Government's]. Why should we destroy our own property?" The general replied with some little asperity to the effect: "They [meaning the Confederates] haven't given up yet. They shall not have an arsenal here!" In this matter General Blair's sentiment and mine had agreed.

At another time, noticing that Wheeler's (or Hampton's) cavalry were burning the cotton to prevent its falling into our hands, and that we were burning cotton to cripple the Confederate revenue, General Blair remarked: "Both sides are burning cotton; somebody must be making a mistake!"

These growing sentiments in genuine sympathy with the suffering people of the Carolinas, were Blair's thus early, and account, in a measure, for his subsequent political course; for, as Hammersley says:

"Brave and gallant soldier as he was, and uncompromisingly hostile as he was to the enemies of his country, when the war was over, and the Southern army had laid down their arms, he at once arrayed himself against those who were in favor of continuing to treat Southern people as enemies, and with voice and pen constantly urged the adoption of a liberal and humane policy. From this time he united with the Democratic party."

Blair died in July, 1875. He was of a jovial turn and convivial, but I think he enjoyed the relief of fun and frolic more than the pleasures which attend high living. Like his father and his brother, he was a man of marked ability; he had great acquirements; he was a determined enemy, but an unswerving and generous friend. In political life his course seemed to lack consistency; but when judged from an unpartisan bias, his was, we may be sure, the outward manifestation of a persistent, patriotic spirit.

MAJOR-GENERAL JOHN A. LOGAN.

A young man received a musket-shot wound through both thighs; he repaired to the doctor to have his wound dressed, and asked if he could have it dressed at once, so that he might return to the fight. The surgeon told him he was in no condition to admit of his return, but should go to the hospital. The youth remarked that he had fired twenty-two rounds after he was wounded, and thought he could fire as many more if his wound were dressed. Finding it impossible to detain him, the doctor dressed the wound, and the young man returned to his comrades in the struggle, dealing out his ammunition to good account until the day was over, as if nothing had happened to him.

This brave young man afterwards became Gen. John A. Logan. He had such a striking face that, once seen, it was never forgotten. There was the straight and raven hair, that, thrown back from his forehead, was long enough to cover his ears, and make vertical lines just behind his eyes. There were the broad brow, the firm round chin, and strong neck. There was the broad, well-cut mouth, always crowned by a dark, heavy mustache. But the features first seen, and never forgotten, were those black eyes with brows and lashes to match. At times those eyes were gentle, pleasant, winning; at times they were cold and indifferent; but at the least excitement they would quicken, and under provocation flash fire. Logan's whole figure, not above five feet nine, was closely knit. His true portrait is everywhere caught by the photographer, the caricaturist, the painter; but we seldom meet with a portraiture of the man that animated that splendid tenement. Abbott compares him with McPherson and contrasts him with Hood. He says: "When Logan was McPherson's successor on the field of Atlanta, rivalling his predecessor in bravery, patriotism, and military ability." ... When speaking of him and Hood, he says: "General Logan was by no means his inferior in impetuous daring, and far his superior in all those intellectual qualities of circumspection, coolness, and judgment requisite to constitute a general."

I hardly think that one who knew both would speak just that way of Hood and Logan. The fact is, the two men were very much alike. Both were impetuous, both brave, and both able generals. Hood was put into the place of General Johnston by Davis with orders to fight desperately; had Logan been sent to Nashville to relieve General Thomas when it was contemplated, he would have done precisely as did Hood--he would have fought, and at once. He might have been defeated--as Thomas was not. Before Sherman threw his forces upon Hood's communications, Logan was greatly depressed concerning the proposed plan. "How can it succeed?" he asked. But when the first battle came on, all his pluck, forethought, energy, Samson-like, came to him. Permit me to repeat my words at the time concerning him, just after that action:

"I wish to express my high gratification with the conduct of the troops engaged. I never saw better conduct in battle. {518} General Logan, though ill and much worn out, was indefatigable, and the success of the day is as much attributable to him as to any one man...."

As I now estimate General Logan, I think him like Napoleon's Marshal Murat. He was made for battle; the fiercer, the better it seemed to suit his temper; but the study of campaigns and military strategy was not his forte. His personal presence was not only striking, but almost resistless. The power of love and hate belonged to his nature. If a friend, like Andrew Jackson, he was a friend indeed; but if an enemy, it was not comfortable to withstand him. Logan had a good loyal heart; he sincerely loved his country and her institutions. He is justly enrolled as a hero and patriot.

MAJOR-GENERAL HENRY WARNER SLOCUM.

In the very beginning of Slocum's career, one characteristic becomes noticeable from his earliest childhood--he always had a wholesome object in view; so that, when he attained one elevation, he fixed his eye steadily upon another still higher, and bent his energies to attain it.

Early in life he cherished a desire for a cadetship at West Point; this desire was gratified in 1848. Sheridan speaks in his "Memoirs" of his (Slocum's) studious habits and willingness to aid others. I was myself at the academy and remember his strong character when the pro-slavery sentiment at West Point was so great as to lessen the popularity of any one even suspected of entertaining abolition views. He fearlessly and openly expressed himself as an opponent to human slavery.

General Slocum graduated high in his class; saw service in the Seminole wars in Florida, and remained stationed in the South until 1857, when, having studied law, he resigned to practise his profession in Syracuse, N. Y., being a representative at Albany in 1859, and instructor of militia from 1859 to 1861. When Fort Sumter fell he tendered his services, and was given the command of the Twenty-seventh New York Volunteers, which he led in a charge at Bull Run, where he was severely wounded. In August, 1861, he was made brigadier-general of volunteers, and took a brigade in General Franklin's division. When Franklin passed to the command of a corps, Slocum took the division. His work was noticeable on the Peninsula, at Yorktown, West Point, Gaines's Mill, Glendale, and Malvern Hill, and on each occasion he received the praise of his commanders. At South Mountain his division drove the enemy from its position with such a rush as to prevent any chance of rallying, which act brought him still more commendation. It was Slocum who led the advance of Franklin's corps to the field of Antietam, and enabled us to recover and hold much ground that had been taken from us in the first struggle.

By October of 1862 Slocum's manifest ability had given him the Twelfth Corps, with which his name is so closely identified. In the Chancellorsville campaign it was Slocum who made the march around Lee's left, and showed himself the "cool, self-poised, and prompt commander that he had always been, and which made him distinguished even in the brilliant group of generals of which he was a member." It would require the whole history of Gettysburg to fairly portray Slocum's part there. The most impressive incident of that battle to me was Slocum's own battle on the 3d day of July, 1863. For five anxious hours Slocum commanded the field to our right; that dreadful struggle went on until Ewell with Early's and Edward Johnson's large divisions was forced to give up and abandon his prize of the night before. Slocum's resolute insistence, on the 2d, upon leaving Greene and his brigade as a precaution when General Meade ordered the Twelfth Corps to be sent to his (Meade's) left, with Greene's marvellous night battle, and more still, Slocum's organized work and engagement of the following morning, in my judgment prevented Meade losing the battle of Gettysburg.

The disaster at Chickamauga took Slocum's corps from the Rappahannock to Tennessee. Soon after his arrival he was sent to command the district of Vicksburg, where his work consisted of expeditions to break up bridges and railroads and to repel rebel raids. When the death of General McPherson, Slocum's department commander, at Atlanta, caused so many changes, Slocum was brought to that city to command the Twelfth Corps. When, a little later, we swung off on Hood's communications, Slocum being located south of the Atlanta crossing of the Chattahoochee River, it was his quick perception that recognized the significance of the final explosions, and it was he who pushed forward over the intervening six miles and took possession of that citadel of Georgia; and it was his despatch to his watchful commander, thirty miles away, that inspired that brief proclamation, "Atlanta is ours, and fairly won!"

In the march to the sea and through the Carolinas, General Sherman had given to Slocum the left wing, the Army of Georgia. He crossed the Savannah River when the high waters made it most difficult, pushing and fighting through the swamps of the Carolinas. He fought the battle of Averysboro, and later took a leading part at Bentonville, where Johnston, the toughest Confederate of them all, surrendered, and we turned our faces homeward.

At the close of the war General Slocum resigned from the army and engaged in civil pursuits, adding to his magnificent military reputation a civil repute for ability, honesty, and probity in business as well as in political affairs.

GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.

With regard to the central figure of this group, General Sherman himself, libraries are so full of his characteristic work and worth that I will simply add to the above sketches a few items. Those have been chosen which are the more personal. It is said that when his father gave him the name of the great Indian chief, Tecumseh, he remarked: "Who knows but this child may be a fighter?" It is indeed remarkable how often {519} names are prophetic. A fighter he was, but one thoroughly equipped with that most valuable weapon to a general, namely, such knowledge of history as to make him an authority to all of us. Any disputed point we carried to him; we relied upon his being able to set us right. Indeed, one of his most marked characteristics was his quick perception and exceedingly retentive memory. This he evidenced in many ways; years after he ascended the Indian River in Florida he remembered with minute distinctness what he saw, from the shape of the inlet to the roosting pelicans along the mangrove islands. Talking with him before the battle of Kenesaw Mountain, I found him so conversant with the Chattahoochee Valley and the roads to and from Marietta, and all the features of that region, that I was astonished, and asked him where he had gotten such valuable information. He said he had gained it twenty years before, when travelling through the country as a member of a board of officers detailed to appraise horses lost in the Florida war. During his service in the South before the war he travelled much, and appears to have remembered ever after, with wonderful distinctness, the features of the country.

Sherman was, above all, pure in his patriotism and free from thought of self. When, from his position at the Military Seminary in Louisiana, he saw the conflict coming, he wrote: "I accepted this position when the motto of the seminary, inserted in marble over the main door, was, 'By the liberality of the General Government of the United States.'--'The Union'--'Este perpetua.' ... If Louisiana withdraws from the Federal Union, I prefer to maintain my allegiance to the old Constitution as long as a fragment of it survives;" adding, "for on no account will I do any act or think any thought hostile to or in defiance of the old government of the United States." When his clear perception of the magnitude of the struggle before us made him declare to Secretary Cameron that it "was nonsense to carry on a picayune war; that sixty thousand men were needed for immediate work to clear Kentucky and Tennessee; and two hundred thousand men to finish the war in that quarter;" and when the supposed extravagance of his demands led to the suspicion that his mind was unbalanced, thus placing him under a cloud, no selfish thought seems to have occurred to him. Instead of dwelling upon the injustice done him, he devoted all his knowledge, his wonderful energy and skill, to aiding General Grant; and, further, while under this cloud he gathered and sent forward to Grant much-needed supplies and men. He put order among quartermasters and commissaries anew, equipped new commands, and pushed them, never thinking of himself, to the front. This energy and generosity General Grant promptly acknowledged; and it was here, after the battle of Fort Donelson, that the celebrated Army of the Tennessee was born.

General Sherman's organizing powers have been tested by results. Doubtless his brilliant genius gave more or less inspiration to his subordinates, and his magnetic influence lifted up to prominence some very common men; yet, no proof-sustaining bridge can be condemned! He generously gave both confidence and scope to his officers, just as Grant had given confidence and scope to him; and such sunshine develops men and makes them strong. His memory was phenomenal; he had acquired knowledge with intense rapidity, from observation and from books, from childhood to age; and by a thousand tests he showed that he had forgotten nothing that he had once learned. Who could estimate the number of officers and men he knew at the close of the war? And at the time of his death thousands claimed his personal recognition.

He led his quartermasters in their plans and estimates for his army; he was quicker than his chief commissary in figuring the rations for a month's supply; he was equal to the great engineering general in everything that pertains to the construction of railroads and the running of trains; he was more than a match for his Confederate adversaries in field correspondence with them at Atlanta--a correspondence rapid and pungent, which involved laws of war and of nations.

When the Hon. Thomas Ewing, in kindness to General Sherman's family, offered to adopt a child, his choice fell upon Tecumseh. Mr. Ewing's testimony, after a little experience with him as a member of his family, is, "That he was a lad remarkable for accuracy of memory and straightforwardness."

When truthfulness is the corner-stone of a character--all things being equal--we have reason to anticipate a strong superstructure. How this was realized in Sherman, the world knows.

Loyalty to family, loyalty to friends, loyalty to society about him, loyalty to duty and country, he quickly observed in another. And this loyalty was a marked characteristic of his own great soul.

OLIVER OTIS HOWARD, _Major-General U. S. Army_.

GOVERNOR'S ISLAND, N. Y., _July_ 6, 1894.

{520}

PRISONS AND ESCAPES.

BY GEORGE L. KILMER.

ESCAPE OF THREE WAR CORRESPONDENTS FROM SALISBURY PRISON--SEVENTY PRISONERS ESCAPED, BUT ONLY FIVE REACHED THE NORTH--LONG AND PERILOUS JOURNEY THROUGH THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY--"OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH, OUT OF THE MOUTH OF HELL"--A LEAP FOR LIBERTY--FOUR UNION PRISONERS ESCAPED NEAR CHARLESTON, S. C.--JOURNEY THROUGH SWAMPS AND OVER MOUNTAINS TO TENNESSEE--ESCAPES FROM ANDERSONVILLE--TUNNELLING UNDER THE STOCKADE--REMARKABLE ESCAPE OF THE CONFEDERATE GENERAL MORGAN--COLONEL ROSE'S TUNNEL AT LIBBY PRISON.

Albert D. Richardson and Junius Henri Browne, war correspondents of the _New York Tribune_, were taken prisoners from a Union vessel that attempted to pass the Confederate batteries at Grand Gulf, Miss. After passing some time in Castle Thunder and Libby Prison, Richmond, they were sent to Salisbury, N. C., as a punishment for endeavoring to escape, and while there, W. T. Davies of the _Cincinnati Gazette_ united his fortunes with the _Tribune_ men.

Again and again plans to obtain their freedom were frustrated by some trifle, until desperation spurred them to the most daring attempts, but these also ended in failure. One day a body of prisoners, led by Robert E. Boulger of the Twenty-fourth Michigan, rushed upon a guard relief, seized their muskets, and attacked the sentinels on their posts. In their haste, all rushed to one point and attempted to pass the fence; but a couple of field-pieces and the muskets of the reserve guard turned upon that one point, quelled the insurrection in three minutes, killing and wounding one hundred men. A scheme of tunnelling was then proposed and pushed far toward success, but the prison commandant took alarm and posted a second line of guards, one hundred feet outside the stockade, and that rendered egress by tunnels out of the question. After spending ten months in the Salisbury prison, Richardson and his two companions determined to take heavy risks in order to get out and make their way to the mountains of East Tennessee. The outlook, according to the statistics of escapes during their experiences in that prison, was not at all promising, for out of seventy prisoners that had passed the guard, but five had reached the North. The others had been retaken or had been shot in the mountains. By extraordinary good luck the trio passed the guards on the night of December 17, 1864. All three were on duty at the time in the hospital, and Davies and Browne held passes permitting them to go outside the first line of sentinels to a Confederate dispensary for supplies. This privilege had been enjoyed so long that they were allowed to go on sight. The night of the escape, Browne loaned his pass to Richardson, and with Davies walked coolly out to the dispensary. Richardson describes his exit as follows:

"A few minutes later, taking a box filled with the bottles in which the medicines were usually brought, and giving it to a {521} lad who assisted me in my hospital duties, I started to follow them. As if in great haste, we walked rapidly toward the fence. When we reached the gate, I took the box from the boy and said to him, for the benefit of the sentinel, of course: 'I am going outside to get these bottles filled. I shall be back in fifteen minutes, and want you to remain right here to take and distribute them among the hospitals. Do not go away.' The lad, understanding me perfectly, replied, 'Yes, sir,' and I attempted to pass the sentinel by mere assurance. He stopped me with his musket, demanding:

"'Have you a pass, sir?'

"'Certainly I have a pass,' I replied with all the indignation I could assume. 'Have you not seen it often enough to know it by this time?'

"Apparently a little dumbfounded, he modestly replied: 'Perhaps I have; but they are strict with us, and I am not quite sure.'"

The sentinel examined the document which was all right in Browne's hands, but all wrong in Richardson's. But he did not know the difference, and told Richardson to pass on. Once outside he met several Confederate officials who knew him, and knew too that he was out of his place, but the "peculiarly honest and business-like look of that medicine box" threw them off their guard. Instead of entering the dispensary, Richardson hid his box and slipped under a convenient shelter. At dark his friends joined him, and the three passed the outer guard without difficulty. For the _Tribune_ men this was the end of twenty months of captivity. The first night and day were passed in the barn of a friendly citizen within one mile of the prison. The second night, a Confederate lieutenant belonging to the Sons of America, an order of Southerners who secretly aided the Union, met them and gave them full directions how and where to reach friends on their journey. Then they set out on their long winter tramp, poorly clad, and weak from long confinement.

The main guide of the refugees was a railroad running west, but they were often obliged to leave the line to avoid crowded settlements, and were frequently lost in making those detours. In such emergencies they relied upon chance friends among the slaves to direct them aright.

On the morning of the seventh day of their escape, they found that they had made fifty miles of their direct journey. December 30th they crossed the Yadkin River, now getting into a region where Union homes were plenty. Communications had to be opened with women, as the men were "lying out" in order to avoid impressment by the hated Confederacy; and, after allaying all suspicion, our refugees found these people of great service.

"The men of the community were walking arsenals. Each had a trusty rifle, one or two navy revolvers, a great bowie-knife, a haversack, and a canteen."

Guided and fed by the friends they found here, the three reached Tennessee early in January; but their perils were not yet over, for the mountains were constantly patrolled by Confederate guerillas. Once they had to pass within a quarter of a mile of a notorious rendezvous, called Little Richmond. An invalid arose from his bed and guided them past the danger at the risk of his life. On another occasion their guide, the celebrated Dan Ellis, aroused the party from sleep with the startling announcement: "We have walked right into a nest of rebels. Several hundred are within a few miles, and eighty in this immediate vicinity!"

They scattered in various directions, Richardson and his party--for others had joined them--being led by a young woman who often performed this service, though her name, Melvina Stephens, was never revealed until the war had closed.

On the 14th of January, 1865, the _Tribune_ printed this despatch from its long-lost correspondent:

"KNOXVILLE, TENN., _January_ 13, 1865.

"Out of the jaws of death; out of the mouth of hell.

"ALBERT D. RICHARDSON."

He had travelled three hundred and forty miles since leaving the prison, twenty-seven days before.

{522} [Illustration: GUARDING CONFEDERATE PRISONERS. (From a War Department photograph.)]

Of the thousands of prisoners held by either side during the four years of the war, those who escaped and succeeded in reaching their own lines were exceedingly few, although the attempts at escape were numerous, and a good many got away from the prisons only to be brought back captives again in a few days. The most notable adventure of this kind was an escape from Libby Prison by a hundred and eight officers in February, 1864. In that crowded prison, which was an old tobacco warehouse, the prisoners had little to do but play checkers on squares of the floor marked out with their pocket knives, play cards, tell stories, and devise plans for escape. One of them discovered a way of getting into the basement, and, by removing stones, making a hole through the eastern foundation wall. With a few assistants he then proceeded to dig a tunnel across the breadth of the yard. The earth that was taken out was dumped in a dark corner of the cellar where it never attracted attention. The work had to be carried on very secretly, not only to escape the notice of the guards, but even to prevent the knowledge of it from reaching any prisoner who might not be trustworthy. When the tunnel was about ten yards long a slight opening was made to the surface of the ground for light and ventilation; and an old shoe thrown out at this opening in the night, and resting near it upon the surface, enabled the tunnellers, looking from the windows of the prison in the daytime, to get their bearings and determine how much farther they must dig in order to pass under the fence. When all was done the night of February 9th was fixed for the escape. One of the officers who passed through the tunnel says of himself and two companions: "Each man had an entire suit of clothes, a double suit of underclothes, the pair of boots in which he stood on entering the prison, an overcoat, and a cap. In common we possessed a coil of rope, a diminutive hatchet, one pint of brandy, a half pint of extract of Jamaica ginger, two days' scant rations of dried meat and hard bread, one pipe, and a bit of tobacco. The tunnel was about fifty-three feet long, and so small in diameter that in order to pass through it was necessary to lie flat on one's face, propelling with one hand and the feet, the other hand being thrown over the back to diminish the breadth of the shoulders and carry overcoat, rations, etc. Early in the evening, as I was seated at the card table, Randolph tapped me on the shoulder. 'The work is finished,' he said. 'The first party went through soon after dark; there is no time to lose.' Every one knew it then. We possessed only the advantage of being perfectly cool and having a plan agreed upon. The excitement in the prison was of the wildest kind. Parties were formed, plans arranged, farewells exchanged, all in less time than one can describe. We dropped one by one into the cellar. I remember well the instructions: 'Feet first; back to the wall; get down on your knees; make a half face to the right, and grasp the spike in the wall below with your right hand; lower yourself down; feel for the knotted rope below with your legs.' Then one had but to {523} drop in the loose straw shaken from hospital beds to be in the cellar. To walk across that foul pit in the dark was no easy matter; but it was soon accomplished, and together we crouched at the entrance of the tunnel. Only one at a time; and as about three minutes were consumed in effecting the passage, progress was quite slow. Of our party Randolph was the first to enter. 'I'm going. Wait till I get through before you start.' It seemed that his long legs would never disappear; but a parting kick in the face, as he wriggled desperately in, quite reassured me. When a cool blast of air drawing through the tunnel gave the welcome assurance that the passage was clear, in I went. So well did the garment of earth fit, that at moments my movements corresponded somewhat to those of a bolt forcing its way through a rifled gun. Breath failed when I was about two-thirds through, but a score or more of vigorous kicks brought me to the earth's surface where Randolph awaited my coming. With sundry whispered instructions about getting out without making undue noise and without breaking my skull against the bottom of a board fence, he then crept away toward the street, keeping in the shadow of a high brick wall, leaving me to assist in turn and instruct the colonel, who could now be heard thundering through the tunnel. Dirty but jubilant, we were soon standing in the shadow of a low brick arch, outside of which a sentinel paced backward and forward, coming sometimes within two yards of our position. One after another stole out of the archway, and we met, as agreed, at the corner of the second street below. Arm in arm, whistling and singing, we turned and struck out, strong and hopeful, for home and liberty." The one hundred and eight men who escaped through this tunnel followed different plans and routes for getting within the National lines, but the greater part of them were recaptured. The party of which the officer just quoted was one, after twelve days of journeying through swamps and by-ways, fed and guided by the friendly negroes, at length reached the National lines on the Pamunkey.

A LEAP FOR LIBERTY[1]

[Footnote 1: Rewritten (by permission) from Captain Drake's narrative as printed in the private history of the Ninth New Jersey Volunteers.]

On the morning of October 6, 1864, a party of six hundred captive Union officers were put on board of a train of box-cars to be transported from the jail yard at Charleston to prison quarters at Columbia. Among the number was Capt. J. Madison Drake, of the Ninth New Jersey volunteers, who had been a prisoner of war five months and an inmate during that time of three different prisons--Libby, Macon, Ga., and Charleston. Although he had been foiled in many attempts to escape, he resolved on one more effort, and, having received warning of the trip to Columbia, induced three fellow-prisoners to join him: Capt. H. H. Todd, Eighth New Jersey; Capt. J. E. Lewis, Eleventh Connecticut; and Capt. Alfred Grant, Nineteenth Wisconsin. While the train was crawling slowly on toward Columbia, the bold projector of the scheme managed to remove the gun-caps from the nipples of the muskets of several guards {524} on the car where the four friends were; and as soon as dusk came on, the party at a signal took their daring leap. They landed in a cypress swamp on Congaree River, and found themselves waist deep in water and mud. A volley of shots from all the guards followed the fugitives, but no one was hurt, as the train was running under good headway. A night and a day were passed in the swamp, and although the barking of dogs and shouting of men indicated that pursuers had been sent out, the runaways were not disturbed. The second night a bright new moon arose, and they started on a systematic journey toward the Union lines in Tennessee.

Before leaving Charleston, one of the party had found a school map of South Carolina, and with this guide a course had been studied out. They decided to hug the swamps and woods by day, and at night use the fields and roads, and spend as little time as possible in sleep until the mountains of North Carolina were reached. Their chief guide-mark in South Carolina was the Wateree River.

At the end of a week their rations had all been consumed, and in desperation the wanderers began to think of food to the exclusion of all else. Captain Drake says that in these times they heartily yearned for the government "hard tack" and the contractor's beef they had so often anathematized on the march and in camp.

But fortune will favor the bold, and one night, as they halted on a roadside to debate whether it should be a quest for bread or for a road to liberty, a dark form came shambling along the road, and in the moonlight they saw at a distance that it was an old negro with a basket on his arm. Without ceremony the famished men crowded around the old man, and finding that he had in his basket a "pone" of corn-bread, they seized it and began to devour it ravenously. After a time the situation was explained, and when the negro learned who the highwaymen were, he supplied a quantity of meal and salt, and sent them on their way mentally resolved to cultivate acquaintance with colored folks as often as possible.

Not until several hundred miles had been placed between their fainting feet and Charleston did the hapless fugitives feel a sense of freedom. Often their fears and alarms were causeless, but they suffered loss of vitality all the same. Sometimes seeming misfortunes proved to be blessings. One night a pack of dogs chased them into a crowded village, and they took refuge in a graveyard vault. There Captain Drake found a copy of a local newspaper, warning the people to be on guard for escaped Union prisoners. The escaped prisoners themselves got the benefit of the hint. At another time some Confederate cavalrymen chased them on the high-road, and they escaped by getting into a dense wood, where the horses couldn't follow. While wandering about, they fell in with a loyal mountaineer, who took them to his home, fed them, and directed them to other Unionists.

Many of the men met with in the mountains were of the class known as "lyers out," deserters from the Confederate army, and fugitive conscripts. A hundred or more of these men were persuaded to join Drake's party on their tramp toward the Union lines. Thus reinforced with guides and armed companions, the prospects of the runaway prisoners began to brighten. But they were not out of the woods by a long way, as the sequel proved.

When the fugitives drew near the Union lines the danger of capture increased, for a cordon of mountain rangers patrolled the region to head off any fortunate ones who got thus far on the journey homeward. The mountains were simply barren wastes, the few cabins had to be shunned, and the only food to be obtained was wild game which the rifles of the "lyers out" brought down. In the uplands the poor fellows were hounded by "rangers," and in the valleys mounted Confederates dashed about on all sides.

At length the party reached the vicinity of Bull's Gap, a railway pass through the mountains, and guarded by Union troops as an outpost of Knoxville. The chief scout announced that the gap was fifteen miles from the foot of the hill whence it was first sighted, and that, once reached, the refugees would be safe. The news stimulated the men anew, and they started down the mountain with their eyes riveted on the gap, for fear, as Drake says, it would take wings and flee. Alas! alas! The unexpected happens in war if nowhere else.

The gap didn't exactly take wings and flee, but the ubiquitous General Breckenridge, with an army at his back, fell like a thunderbolt upon the Union garrison at the pass, defeated and routed the entire force and hurled them backward at mounted double-quick pace toward Knoxville; and, presto! the gap was closed in the very faces of the yearning-eyed, broken-bodied pilgrims. Think of it--at the end of those terrible weeks of endurance and suffering, to find a hostile army springing across the path at a bound, and its scouts and patrols beating every byway and bush in the region for the luckless strays of the fleeing enemy!

A young woman of the mountains volunteered to scout toward the gap and bring news to the refugee camp. She simply learned that Breckenridge was sweeping the country of Union troops and marching upon Knoxville.

At the same time it was discovered that a band of Confederate partisans were on the trail of the fugitives, and to escape this new danger they found comparative shelter in a ravine. Two of the men who had leaped from the car with Drake, Captains Todd and Grant, ventured out to obtain rations, which were sadly needed, as they were all living on dry corn. During the night mounted men attacked the bivouac, and the refugees scattered, every man for himself. At the end of a week they fell in with a cavalry patrol, and were once more, after forty-nine days' wandering, under the protection of the Stars and Stripes.

ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE FROM ANDERSONVILLE.

Escapes from Andersonville, except through the portals of death--that is, complete escape to the Union lines--were exceedingly rare. Hundreds, through one device or another, succeeded in getting outside of the stockade, but the prison was so strongly surrounded with guards and forts and quarters occupied with zealous attendants, that it was difficult for a prisoner to elude the detective on the outside even when he had succeeded in passing the main barrier. Adding to this the existence of the deep swamps and vast forests just beyond the camp precincts, in which a stranger to the locality would be only too sure to lose his way, it will be seen that to enter Andersonville was indeed to leave "all hope behind." The favorite method of attempting escape was by tunnelling, for the great extent of the camp area, some twenty-five acres, and its crowded condition, made the work of excavation, without danger of discovery by the guards and keepers, comparatively easy. Another favorable circumstance was the fact that prisoners were allowed to dig wells to supply drinking water, and the grounds were everywhere dotted with piles of fresh earth that had been thrown up in consequence.

{525} In order to excavate a tunnel, the prisoners contemplating escape would commence a lateral shaft a few feet below the mouth of one of these wells, located near the stockade; and as the work was done at night, the earth thus removed was carried in small quantities and deposited on the piles of fresh earth thrown out from the newly sunken wells. The tools used were of the rudest kind--tin plates, cups, and knives with which to loosen the earth, and bare hands to scoop it into the haversacks, or bags improvised from clothes and pieces of blanket; and in this manner these tunnels were frequently extended, not only beyond the stockade, but even beyond the outer line of prison guards. Yet, although hundreds passed out--as many as one hundred escaped through one tunnel in a single night, late in 1864--they were invariably brought back; sometimes through the treachery of spies, who mingled with the prisoners, and at other times by hunters with their dogs, who were constantly patrolling the vicinity of the camp, and, in fact, the entire region, in search of deserters from the Confederate army and runaway slaves, as well as fugitive prisoners. Not one well-authenticated case of a prisoner getting out through a tunnel, and making his way North, is to be found on record.

Another method of escape from the enclosure was by strolling beyond the sight of the guards when allowed to go out to the forests for wood; some, again, tried hiding in the huge boxes used for bringing prisoners into the camp, and many were missed from their quarters who had succeeded for the time being in misleading their guards, but eventually the fugitives turned up elsewhere; while such as enlisted in the Confederate army, this being their last hope of escape, soon reappeared, either as willing prisoners or deserters.

One tunnel, which had been carried under and beyond the stockade, was broken into by a severe flood, and the stockade undermined, which opened the celebrated "providential spring."

In August, 1864, when prisoners were dying from the use of unwholesome drinking water, a heavy thunder storm flooded the little brook that, running through the enclosure, passed in and out under the stockade. The rushing element not only broke in the roof of the tunnel, but loosened a quantity of earth which, since the construction of the stockade, had dammed up a copious stream of clear, fresh water, its original course passing right through the prison quarters. Some attributed the reopening to the action of lightning, while others looked upon it as a direct interposition of Heaven for their relief. But, whatever the cause, it supplied the prisoners with an abundance of good water through the remainder of their stay, and is still in existence.

{526} MORGAN'S ESCAPE.

The account of the capture and escape of General Morgan as here given is condensed from an article by Samuel B. Taylor, originally published in the Cincinnati _Tribune_.

In the summer of 1863, General Morgan's command made, through Southern Ohio, one of those raids which were the most daring and successful in the history of modern and ancient warfare. In that instance he did not meet with his usual great success, for his raid terminated, in July of that year, with the capture of himself and sixty-eight of his officers and men. By order of General Burnside, he and a number of his officers were confined in the Ohio Penitentiary, at Columbus.

"We were each placed in a separate cell, in the first and second range or tier of cells on the south side of the east wing of the prison. These cells were let into a solid block of masonry, one hundred and sixty feet long and twenty-five feet thick. They opened into a hall twelve feet wide and one hundred and sixty feet in length. Then, as now, the prison buildings and their yard were enclosed by a solid stone wall thirty feet high and four feet in thickness, and level on top.

"We at length became so desperate from confinement that we determined to escape, no matter at what hazard. But how was escape to be effected?

"From five o'clock P.M. till seven A.M. we were locked in our cells, with no means of communication. Through the day we were allowed to roam about the large hall on to which our cells opened and to converse freely with each other, though there was an armed sentry at either end of this hall, through which the regular keepers of the prison passed at frequent and regular intervals. We discussed every possible and impossible plan of escape, as we thought, but could hit upon none that seemed feasible.

"We had been some three months in durance vile, when, in consequence of an insult that was offered to one of our number, Capt. Thomas A. Hines, by the deputy warden, a plan was evolved by which we did finally succeed in making our escape. Captain Hines retired to his cell about eight o'clock A.M., vowing that food should not pass his lips and that sleep should not rest upon his eyelids until he had thought out some plan of escape that should be practicable.

"About a quarter to twelve o'clock he came to me and said that he had hit upon a plan which he thought would do. At all events he was determined to try it. He then informed me that he had noticed that the walls of his cell, instead of being damp, as they naturally would have been from the fact that they were built upon a level with the ground outside, were perfectly dry. From this he concluded that there must be an air chamber beneath. Now, if such should be the case, Captain Hines's plan was to run a tunnel from it through the foundation into the yard, and then to escape over the prison wall.

"The cells were built in five tiers. Some of our party occupied the lowest or ground tier, while others, including General Morgan himself, occupied the second tier. Of course only those in the ground tier could escape by means of Captain Hines's plan, and in order for General Morgan to do so it would be necessary to have him exchange cells with some one in the tier below. The plan of Captain Hines was communicated to General Morgan and the other officers that afternoon, and after being fully discussed, it was decided that not more than seven of those on the lower tier could escape, because the greater the number the greater would be the danger of discovery. We arranged to have the work begin in the cell of Captain Hines, and in order to prevent the usual daily inspection being made of it, he asked permission to thereafter sweep it himself. The permission was granted, and he kept it so scrupulously clean that after a few mornings no inspection was made of it. Work was therefore begun in his cell on the morning of November 4th. With two small table-knives, obtained from sick comrades in the hospital, Captain Hines cut through six inches of cement, removed six layers of brick, concealing them in his bed tick, and came to an air chamber six feet in height. The work was carried on under his cot.

"Having progressed thus far, Captain Hines now mounted guard at the door of his cell, while the work was carried on by the rest of us. He pretended to be deeply engrossed in study, but in reality he was watching every movement of the guards and keepers. If one approached, he gave us warning by a system of taps on the floor. One tap meant to stop work, two to proceed, and three to come out.

"We cut a tunnel at right angles from the air chamber through the foundation wall of the cell block five feet, through twelve feet of grouting to the outer wall of the east wing of the prison, then through this wall six feet in thickness, and then four feet up near the surface of the yard in an unfrequented place. Our tunnel completed, it only remained to make an entrance from the cell of each man who was to escape into the air chamber. This could only be done by working from the air chamber upward.

"To do this we must have something to measure with in order to locate the spots at which to make these holes. We secured a measuring line by involving the warden in a dispute about the length of the hall, Captain Hines abstracting it long enough, after the hall had been measured, to answer our purpose. The chamber being very dark, we obtained matches and candles from our sick comrades in the hospital.

"It was very essential to our purpose that we should have an accurate knowledge of the prison yard and the wall inclosing it, but the windows of the hall were too high to afford us a view. Fortunately the warden ordered the walls and ceiling of the hall to be swept, and a long ladder being brought for that purpose, I offered the warden a wager that I could go hand over hand to its top, rest for a moment, and then descend in the same way. He took me up, and having been famous all my life for feats of strength and agility, I readily won the bet. While resting at the top of the ladder I made a thorough survey of the yard. There was a double gate to the outer wall south of the wing in which we then were and almost at right angles from its eastern end. Of this double gate, the outer portal was solid as the wall itself, while the inner was of wooden uprights four inches apart. By means of this latter gate we might ascend to the top of the prison wall. For that purpose we made a rope of our bed ticking, and fastened it to a grappling iron made out of the poker of the hall stove.

"All our money had been taken by our captors, but we obtained a fresh supply from friends in the South, secreted in the cover of an old book sent through the mail. An old convict, who was often sent into the city on errands by the warden, procured us a newspaper, from which we learned that a train left for Cincinnati--whither we were bound--at 1.15 o'clock A.M. At midnight the guards made a round of the cells, and we determined to start at that hour. I was to descend into the air chamber and notify the others by a tap under the floor of each cell.

"The evening of November 27th being dark and cloudy, we determined to try our luck that night. When we were locked up for the night, General Morgan contrived to change places with his brother, who occupied one of the lower cells, and who greatly resembled him in face and form. Every man arranged the stool, {527} with which each cell was supplied, in his bed to look like a sleeping man when the guard should thrust his lantern through the cell door a few minutes later.

"I had General Morgan's gold watch, and punctually at midnight I broke with my boot-heel the thin layer of cement which separated my cell from the air chamber, and passing along the latter gave a tap under the floor of each of the others, who soon joined me. We crawled through our tunnel, and, breaking the thin layer of earth which separated its end from the surface, we were soon in the prison yard. Over the wooden gate, which I had seen from the ladder, we threw our grappling iron, and by its bed-ticking rope drew ourselves up till we stood on the wing wall, whence we readily passed to the outside wall in full view of freedom.

"The top of the latter wall was so broad as to form a walkway for the guards, who were stationed there during the day, but who at night were placed inside the walls. This walkway was supplied with sentry boxes, and in one of these we divested ourselves of the garments we had soiled in passing through the tunnel, each man having provided for this by wearing two suits. With one of the knives used in tunnelling, General Morgan then cut the rope running along the wall to the warden's office bell. Fastening our grappling iron to the railing running along the edge of the wall, we descended to the ground outside, and were free once more, though at that very moment the prison guards were sitting around a fire not sixty yards away.

"We now separated, and in parties of two and three made our way to the railroad station, and took the train for Cincinnati. During the journey General Morgan sat beside a Federal major in full uniform, and was soon on the best of terms with him. Our route lay directly past the prison whence we had just come, and, as we whizzed by it, the Federal officer said to our leader:

"'That is where the rebel General Morgan is now imprisoned.'

"'Indeed,' said General Morgan; 'I hope they will always keep him as safely as they have him now.'

"At Dayton our train was delayed for over an hour, and this made it unsafe for us to go on to Cincinnati, as we had intended, because we should now be unable to reach the city until long after seven o'clock in the morning, and by that time our escape was certain to be discovered and telegraphed all over the country, and we should be watched for in every large city in which there was any possibility of our going. We therefore alighted from the train as it was passing through Ludlow Ferry, a suburb of the city, and we quickly ferried across the Ohio River into Kentucky. There we found many kind friends, who aided us with hospitality, money, concealment when necessary, horses, and arms. The adventures, the dangers, hardships, hairbreadth escapes from capture, and serious and laughable incidents through which each one of us passed in making our way back into the Confederate lines, would fill an immense volume. For the purposes of this article, it must suffice to say that ultimately we all succeeded in rejoining our comrades at the front, though one or two of our number were recaptured before they could do so, but they again succeeded in escaping.

"What transpired in Columbus after the discovery of our escape we did not learn until long afterward. Then we found that we had created one of the greatest--if not the very greatest--sensations of the war. Our escape had been effected in such a seemingly impossible manner, and was so absolutely without parallel in the history of prison escapes, that the people of the North refused to believe that it had been accomplished without collusion on the part of some of our keepers. It is no wonder that they thought so, for everything in connection with the affair happened so fortunately for us that it really seemed as if we must have had some assistance from some one within the prison. The way in which we obtained the line with which to measure for the holes in the cell floors, the way I obtained a view of the prison yard, the way in which General Morgan and his brother changed cells on the night of our escape, all of which I have detailed before, would certainly seem impossibilities without connivance. Then, when it is considered that the digging of the tunnel consumed over three weeks, and that the keepers were almost constantly passing over where it was going on, it seems incredible that they never became aware of it.

"Nevertheless, there was never any bribery even attempted. It seemed as though fate or Providence or some controlling power had decreed that we were to escape, and directed everything to that end. The only bribery was that practised upon the old convict I have mentioned, to induce him to bring us a newspaper, contrary to the warden's rules, that we might find out about the trains for Cincinnati, and the convict in question had not the slightest idea what we wanted it for. I believe Warden N. L. Merion was perfectly loyal to the Union."

{528}

UNION AND CONFEDERATE RAIDS AND RAIDERS.

BY GEORGE L. KILMER.

BEALL, THE LAKE RAIDER--ANDREWS AND HIS DISGUISED RAIDERS--LIEUTENANT CUSHING'S BOAT RAIDS--KILPATRICK'S RAID BY RICHMOND--MORGAN'S KENTUCKY RAID--RAIDING A CITY.

The secret enterprise which placed Lieutenant Davis in a dungeon cell and nearly cost him his life had a deeply tragic ending for John Y. Beall, the young Virginian, executed at Fort Columbus, New York Harbor, the 24th of February, 1865. Beall was the chief promoter and the leader of the Lake Erie raid in the fall of 1864, but technically the offence for which he suffered was that of a spy. The judge advocate of the court which condemned him spoke of the prisoner as one "whom violent passions had shorn of his nature's elements of manliness, and led him to commit deeds which to have even suspected him of at an earlier stage in his career would have been a calumny and a crime."

Beall had been wounded in the Confederate service early in the conflict. As master in the navy, he had led for a time the daring, reckless life of a "swamp angel" in the lower Potomac, destroying the Union commerce in Chesapeake Bay and its adjacent waters.

While thus engaged, he planned a lake raid, but failed to get his government to sanction the project until 1864, when the Northwestern Confederacy movement made it necessary for Jacob Thompson and his co-conspirators in Canada to have a foothold upon Union soil along the border.

One of Thompson's cherished plans was an uprising of the notorious Sons of Liberty at Chicago, during the Democratic national convention in August, 1864. About this time Beall arrived at Sandusky, O., with authority to proceed on his raiding enterprise. Thompson had prepared the way for him by a careful investigation of the lake defences, through an emissary located at Sandusky--Capt. Charles H. Cole, formerly of Morgan's raiders. Cole was supplied with means to entertain and bribe such Union officials as might be of service to the Confederacy; and he finally concluded that the control of the lakes could be secured by the capture of the gunboat _Michigan_, the sole defender of the waters, and the liberation of the Confederate prisoners at Camp Douglas, Chicago, and at Johnson's Island in Sandusky Bay.

Thompson gave Cole authority to capture the _Michigan_, and appointed Beall to aid him. It was arranged between Cole and Beall that the former would remain in Sandusky and coöperate by bribing some of the men on the _Michigan_, and by preparing the prisoners on Johnson's Island for an outbreak. The _Michigan_ lay off the island. The date was fixed for the night of September 19th, and Beall went to Canada to organize a force, hazarding everything, as will be seen, on the success of his confederate, who, at the decisive moment, when Beall's attacking party should arrive off Sandusky, was to make rocket signals from Johnson's Island that the expected aid was a certainty.

Beall secured the services of nineteen Confederate refugees, chiefly escaped prisoners of war harbored in Canada, and the party disguised in civilian dress took passage on a steamer plying between Sandusky and Detroit, carrying in their baggage a supply of revolvers and hatchets. At the proper time, the captain in his office, and the mate at the wheel, were told to vacate their stations, revolvers were suddenly brandished right and left to intimidate the officers and men, and Beall as spokesman declared, "I take possession of this boat in the name of the Confederate States."

Under his direction the vessel was put about and headed for Middle Boss Island, in Ohio waters, where the passengers and regular crew were set ashore.

From the island Beall bore his vessel directly for the gunboat _Michigan_, steamed up within cannon range, and awaited a rocket signal. When the hour passed and no signal came, he decided to risk everything, board the gunboat at all hazards, and strike for Johnson's Island. In his crisis an unlooked-for event dashed his high resolves suddenly to the ground. The crew of the _Philo Parsons_ mutinied. The absence of the shore signals was interpreted by them as a warning that the plot had been discovered; and, although Beall argued and pleaded, the men insisted that the death penalty awaited them if captured, and they felt certain that such would be the end of it all. Their boat was then run to the Canada shore, abandoned, and destroyed.

The scene now changes to Union soil. On the night of the 15th of December, 1864, the engineer on an eastern-bound express train on the Erie railroad, between Buffalo and Dunkirk, saw a railroad rail across the track, in front of his engine, just in time to reverse and strike the obstruction at reduced speed without severe damage. The next night two policemen at the New York Central depot, Niagara City, arrested two suspicious men who were about to take the cars for Canada. Beall was one of them, and, though he made some attempt to deny his identity, he was sent to New York City and accused of the lake raid and of the attempt at train wrecking. The clerk of the _Philo Parsons_, and {529} one of the passengers, and also a confederate in the attempt on the train, identified him, and furnished ample evidence for a case.

The train-wrecking enterprise was doubtless a last resort by Beall to secure funds for the prosecution of his plans on the lake. Five men were engaged in it. The party lay hidden near the track when the train struck, and seeing that the damage was only trifling they hastened to Buffalo and secreted themselves. Subsequently the arrest of Beall took place, purely on suspicion.

He was arraigned on two charges--violation of the laws of war and acting as a spy. His defence was that his acts had been justifiable acts of war; and, if confined to his attempt on the gunboat _Michigan_ and the Johnson's Island prison, the plea might have had weight. But every circumstance likely to weigh in his favor, his education, his noble bearing, his manly conduct toward the captives on the _Philo Parsons_, was lost sight of in the appalling railroad horror that had been planned with such cool deliberation, and with no purpose evident other than robbery--robbery at the sacrifice of innocent lives.

A most deplorable tragedy brought about by the spy system, or what was analogous to that, and involving the execution of six Ohio soldiers,[1] also the imprisonment of sixteen others, who barely escaped the gallows, is the story of the Andrews railroad raid, or bridge-burning expedition, in Georgia, in the spring of 1862.

[Footnote 1: George D. Wilson, Marion A. Ross, and Perry G. Shadrack, Second Ohio; Samuel Slavens and Samuel Robinson, Thirty-third Ohio; and John Scott, Twenty-first Ohio.]

During General Buell's occupancy of Central Tennessee, before the armies marched to Shiloh, he had occasionally employed the services of a spy, named James J. Andrews, who carried on a contraband trade in quinine, and in the course of his travels across the border often managed to pick up information valuable to the Union generals. At his solicitation, Buell permitted a detail from three regiments belonging to General Sill's brigade, the Thirty-third, Twenty-first, and Second Ohio, to set out with him, disguised in civilian's dress. They were to burn the railway bridges east and west of Chattanooga, and thus isolate that important town, possibly insuring its speedy capture. The soldiers were given to understand that they took their lives in their hands, but none declined the dangerous honor. Guided by Andrews, they started from Shelbyville, April 7th, and in five days made their way to Marietta, Ga., losing but two of their number on the road. At Marietta two more disappeared, leaving Andrews with eighteen soldiers and a civilian volunteer to undertake the hazardous work mapped out by the leader, which was to capture an engine with a few cars attached, board them, and speed westward, firing the bridges as they passed. Securing tickets at Marietta, they entered a westbound train as ordinary passengers. At Big Sandy station, where the trainmen took breakfast, these _pseudo_ passengers left their seats, and two of them, William Knight and Wilson Brown, professional engineers, leaped into the cab. The coupling bolt of the third car from the tender was pulled, and the remainder of the party scrambled on board as best they could. Off sped the stolen train in full view of scores of astonished bystanders and railroad men. What made the deed doubly risky was the fact that a camp of Confederate soldiers had been established at Big Sandy since Andrews's last visit there, and the station was surrounded by armed men. In fact, a sentinel, musket in hand, stood within a few yards of the engine, watching the whole proceeding, but too dazed to act or sound the alarm. But this amazement was short-lived. The railroad men were prompt to give chase, first with a hand-car, afterward with a chance engine picked up on the road. The raiders were delayed by eastward trains, it being a single-track line; but with singular good fortune ran over half the distance to Chattanooga, having stopped to cut telegraph wires and remove rails, in order to baffle their pursuers. The attempt to fire bridges failed. It was raining, and the would-be incendiaries had provided no combustibles beyond what the train supplied. In the meanwhile their pursuers picked up a car-load of armed men, and came up with the runaway train west of Dalton, where the fuel of the stolen engine gave out, bringing the raiders to a dead stop. Andrews gave the word, "Save who can," and all sprang for the woods, but were captured within a few days. Taken within the enemy's lines in citizen's dress, a court-martial pronounced them spies worthy of death. Andrews, with six of the soldiers, also the citizen volunteer, were executed at Atlanta. The others, including the two Marietta delinquents who had been arrested and identified, were thrown into dungeons; but preferring death in any form to the fate which seemed to await them, they succeeded one day in overpowering their guards, and so escaping to the woods. Eight of the party made their way North, while the other six were recaptured and held until the spring of 1863, when they were exchanged for a like number of Confederate soldiers held by the Union authorities, to answer for a similar offence.

Cushing was not picturesque in figure, though marked by strong individual peculiarities. His height was five feet ten inches, his form slender, his face grave and thoughtful. With steps springy and quick, prominent cheek bones, a piercing eye and restless habit, he seemed to his associates like some spirited Indian in the garb of a paleface.

{530} [Illustration: BREVET BRIGADIER-GENERAL ELY S. PARKER.]

In July, 1862, a lieutenant's straps were given him for acts of bravery performed in his routine duties with the blockading squadron off North Carolina. Four months later, at the age of twenty, he commanded his first expedition, a gunboat raid into New River Inlet, waters wholly in the possession of active enemies. His vessel, the _Ellis_, stranded within range of the Confederate batteries, but he brought his crew and equipments off in schooners captured before the disaster. A few weeks later he entered Little River at night with twenty-five men, in {531} a cutter, dispersed the gunners of a shore battery by land assault, and got out with the loss of one man. Cushing sometimes volunteered, and at others was chosen, for these fugitive exploits.

In the summer of 1863 it was known on the blockading fleet that the Confederates possessed a couple of rams and some torpedo boats in Cape Fear River around Wilmington; and on the night of June 25 Cushing set out from his ship _Monticello_ in a cutter, with two officers and fifteen men, and crossed the bar, passing some forts and the town of Smithville without discovery. On the way his boat nearly collided with a blockade runner putting to sea, and also with a Confederate guard-boat. The night was dark until the cutter was abreast of a fortified bluff known as the Brunswick batteries, when the moon suddenly emerged from a cloud and disclosed the strange craft to the enemy's sentinels on shore. Shots were fired at the cutter, and the garrison was alarmed. Cushing directed his men to pull to the opposite shore and proceed up the river. When within seven miles of Wilmington the boat was hidden in a marsh, and the party lay all next day within sight of passing blockade runners.

After dark the cutter took to the wave and captured two rowboats filled with men, who proved to be fishermen from Wilmington. Cushing impressed them for guides and reconnoitred all the batteries and forts on the river. He discovered that the ram _Raleigh_ was a hopeless wreck, the ram _North Carolina_ useless because her draught didn't admit of passing the bar to attack the Union blockading fleet, and that the Confederate torpedo boats had been destroyed during a scare. On the way to sea the cutter was headed off by a gunboat and several small boats filled with men. It was night and the moon shone, and Cushing managed to turn and double on his pursuers until he got a start on them, and by vigorous rowing dashed into the breakers at the Carolina shoal, where the enemy dare not follow. The cutter was so heavy that she outrode the breakers and escaped to the fleet. On this raid two days and three nights were spent in the enemy's territory.

In the month of February, 1864, the Administration at Washington proposed a cavalry raid to Richmond. One object was to circulate, within the Confederate lines, the President's amnesty proclamation, offering full pardon and a restoration of rights to any individuals, or to States, that might wish to return to their allegiance. Another was the release of the Union prisoners in Belle Isle and Libby prisons. The expedition was intrusted to Kilpatrick, who was to have a picked force of four thousand cavalrymen and a horse battery.

It was believed in the Union camps that a surprise could be effected, and with this end in view, Kilpatrick set out one Sunday night, the 28th of February, for the lower fords of the Rapidan. Reaching Spottsylvania unmolested, he sent out from here a detachment of five hundred men, under Col. Ulric Dahlgren, toward the Virginia Central Railroad, instructing him to enter Richmond from the south, while he himself should attack from the north. Through the treachery or ignorance of a negro guide engaged by Dahlgren, his column failed to find a ford in the James River, which was a serious drawback, because he had intended to enter Richmond from the rear, the weakest point. On March 1st, Dahlgren was eight miles west of Richmond on the James, and Kilpatrick at Atlee's station, eight miles north, the distance between them being only about twelve miles. Kilpatrick, however, was returning from his raid, and the two forces were destined to remain apart and receive severe handling from enemies now swarming about them.

Kilpatrick had passed the outer defences of Richmond by one o'clock of the 1st, but on approaching the inner line he was met by infantry and artillery. Skirmishing continued for several hours, the object of the Union leader being to prolong the situation until he should hear Dahlgren on the opposite side of the city. Finally, as he saw Confederate troops moving in large bodies, he withdrew to Atlee's to pass the night.

The Confederate cavalry command of Gen. Wade Hampton was strung along the railroad between Lee's army and Richmond, and Gen. Bradley T. Johnson, leading a brigade under him, had learned of Kilpatrick's march and telegraphed to Richmond on the 29th that a raid was abroad. He also had notified the troops all along the line, and both himself and Hampton followed in Kilpatrick's path, about a day behind him. On the night of the 1st Hampton attacked Kilpatrick's camp at Atlee's and drove him out. The following morning Kilpatrick started down the Peninsula toward White House, on the Pamunkey.

On the day of Kilpatrick's farthest advance Dahlgren had drawn to within five miles of the city and then retired. After dark of that day he, too, started to move down the peninsula along the Pamunkey. Placing the main body in reserve, Dahlgren rode on ahead with the advance guard, and on the next night fell into ambush prepared by a number of cavalry officers who were at their homes in the vicinity on recruiting service or leave of absence.

A challenge to halt Dahlgren answered by a threat, and the commander of the Confederate outpost gave the order instantly to fire. At the first volley Dahlgren fell dead. His men were surrounded and held until daylight, when the whole party of survivors surrendered.

The chief victim of this raid, Colonel Dahlgren, was the son of Admiral John A. Dahlgren, and at his death was twenty-two years old. Early in the war he had served as an artillerist with Generals Sigel, Frémont, and Pope in northern Virginia. On the retreat of Lee from Gettysburg toward the Potomac, Dahlgren was at the front under Kilpatrick, leading about one hundred men, and in the encounter with Stuart at Hagarstown, July 6th, he received a wound in the foot that cost him his leg. Having been commissioned colonel in the cavalry service, he returned to the front wearing a cork leg, but was obliged to depend on crutches. He volunteered for the expedition in which he lost his life.

Morgan the raider had given the North an exhibition of his boldness before he entered upon that celebrated ride across Ohio in 1863. On the 13th of July, 1862, President Lincoln telegraphed from Washington to the Union commander in the far West, "They are having a stampede in Kentucky. Please look to it."

The whole trouble was caused by Colonel Morgan, with a couple of cavalry regiments, and a clever telegraph operator {532} named Ellsworth. Ellsworth tapped the wires between Nashville and Louisville, and sent a bogus despatch to the Union authorities in the latter city, stating that Morgan was operating around the former, when, in reality, he was riding northward toward the heart of Kentucky. Moving along the railroad lines, Union operators were everywhere surprised at their keys and compelled to serve the raider's commands, while Ellsworth manipulated the wires. In this way the Union forces ahead on the line of march were ordered out of the road, or drawn off by false alarms, and Morgan was able to get exact knowledge as to the location and numbers of the Union garrisons. At Georgetown, only sixty miles from Cincinnati, he halted for two days, producing, by means of the wires, a terrible scare in Lexington, and drawing all the Union forces to that region. He himself then moved southward to cross into Tennessee, Ellsworth managing to counteract the Union orders for pursuit during the retreat by his bogus telegrams. So the raiders finished their long ride without once encountering an armed foe.

Forrest marched to Memphis on his memorable raid in August, 1864, with a detachment of his choicest cavalry, numbering fifteen hundred men. The leader of the advanced guard was his brother, Captain W. H. Forrest, and into his hands the general gave the difficult task of opening the main road to the town. Captain Forrest approached the outer pickets about daylight on Sunday morning, knocked the challenging vidette senseless with the handle of his sabre, and with ten athletic followers disarmed the reserves on the nearest post. A musket accidentally discharged during the _mêlée_ aroused others near by, and the entire main camp of ten thousand soldiers stretching around the city soon caught the alarm.

Nothing daunted, Forrest galloped his men into the heart of the stronghold, bent upon creating a panic for ulterior purposes of his own, and he succeeded. Captain Forrest's band, followed by another detachment, dashed down the main street to the Gayo House, riding over an artillery camp on the way, and leaped their horses up the steps into the office and dining-hall. Still another body, led by Colonel Jesse Forrest, rode to the headquarters of the Union commandant, General Hurlbut, who escaped capture by the merest accident. In a few moments all Memphis was in an uproar; and the raiders, moving in five isolated bodies, were overpowered in detail and compelled to unite before they could cut their way out. But Forrest had effected his purpose, and the glory of the exploit compensated him for the haste with which he was obliged to abandon the hazardous game.

{533}

WOMAN'S CONTRIBUTION TO THE CAUSE.

At the close of the chapter on the Sanitary and Christian Commissions we have given some account of the work of a few of the women whose service was connected with or similar to that of those organizations. It would require many pages to tell the entire story of the contribution of the loyal women to the cause of the Union--a most noble story, however monotonous and repetitious. It is impossible to publish the records of all who served thus, any more than to treat of every citizen who stepped into the ranks and, as a simple private, gave his life for his country. But a specific account of what was done by some of them will give the reader a more vivid idea of the great price that was paid for the unity of our country and the perpetuation of our government than can be conveyed by any general statement. It is the story of women who did not urge their brothers and lovers to go to the field without themselves following as far and as closely as the law would let them, and sharing in the toils, the privations, and sometimes even the peculiar perils, of war. Many of them lost their lives, directly or indirectly, in consequence of their labors.

"On fields where Strife held riot, And Slaughter fed his hounds, Where came no sense of quiet, Nor any gentle sounds, They made their rounds.

"They wrought without repining, And, weary watches o'er, They passed the bounds confining Our green, familiar shore Forevermore."

It is claimed for Mrs. Almira Fales, of Washington, that she was the first woman in the United States to perform any work for the comfort of the soldiers during the Rebellion. In December, 1860, when South Carolina had seceded and she saw that war was very probable, if not certain, she began the preparation of lint and hospital stores, in anticipation of the hostilities that did not break out until the next April. Her husband was employed by the Government, and her sons entered the army. During the war she emptied seven thousand boxes of hospital stores, and distributed to the sick and wounded soldiers comforts and delicacies to the value of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. She spent several months at sea attending to the wounded on hospital ships, and during the seven days' battles she was under fire on the Peninsula. One of her sons was killed in the battle of Chancellorsville. It was said that she was full of a quaint humor, and her visits to the hospitals never failed to awaken smiles and bring about a general air of cheerfulness.

Mrs. Harris, wife of John Harris, M.D., of Philadelphia, was one of the earliest volunteers in the work, and one who had, perhaps, the widest experience in its various branches. She is described as a pale and delicate woman, and yet she endured very hard service in the cause of her country. At the beginning of the war she became corresponding secretary of the Ladies' Aid Society of Philadelphia, but very soon she went to the field as its correspondent and one of its active workers. In the spring of 1862 she accompanied the Army of the Potomac to the Peninsula, and spent several weeks in the hospitals at Fort Monroe. After the battle of Fair Oaks she went on board a transport that was given to the wounded, and she thus describes what she saw there: "There were eight hundred on board. Passage-ways, state-rooms, floors from the dark and foetid hold to the hurricane deck, were all more than filled; some on mattresses, some on blankets, others on straw; some in the death-struggle, others nearing it, some already beyond human sympathy and help; {534} some in their blood as they had been brought from the battlefield of the Sabbath previous, and all hungry and thirsty, not having had anything to eat or drink, except hard crackers, for twenty-four hours. When we carried in bread, hands from every quarter were outstretched, and the cry, 'Give me a piece, oh, please! I have had nothing since Monday.' Another, 'Nothing but hard crackers since the fight,' etc. When we had dealt out nearly all the bread, a surgeon came in and cried, 'Do please keep some for the poor fellows in the hold, they are so badly off for everything.' So with the remnant we threaded our way through the suffering crowd, amid such exclamations as, 'Oh! please don't touch my foot!' or, 'For mercy's sake, don't touch my arm!' another, 'Please don't move the blanket, I am so terribly cut up,' down to the hold, in which were not less than one hundred and fifty, nearly all sick, some very sick. It was like plunging into a vapor bath, so hot, close, and full of moisture, and then in this dismal place we distributed our bread, oranges, and pickles, which were seized upon with avidity. And here let me say, at least twenty of them told us next day that the pickles had done them more good than all the medicine they had taken." In the autumn of 1863, just after the battle of Chickamauga, she went to the West and began work at Nashville among the refugees. Afterward, at Chattanooga, she labored in the hospitals until her strength was overtaxed, and for several weeks her life was despaired of. Coming again to the East, in the spring of 1864, she was with the Army of the Potomac in its bloody campaign through the Wilderness, and afterward with the Army of the Shenandoah. In the spring of 1865 she visited North Carolina to care for the released prisoners of Andersonville and Salisbury.

Mrs. Eliza C. Porter, of Chicago, after her eldest son had enlisted, devoted herself to the work, first taking charge of the Sanitary Commission rooms in that city, and in the spring of 1862 going to the army hospitals. At Cairo, she and other women were accustomed to work from four o'clock in the morning until ten at night. They went to the front at Pittsburgh Landing, and not only labored in the hospitals, but did much for refugees and escaped slaves, and established schools for the blacks. In a letter written from a field hospital near Chattanooga, in January, 1864, she says: "The field hospital was in a forest, about five miles from Chattanooga; wood was abundant, and the camp was warmed by immense burning 'log heaps,' which were the only fire-places or cooking-stoves of the camp or hospitals. Men were detailed to fell the trees and pile the logs to heat the air, which was very wintry. And beside them Mrs. Bickerdyke made soup and toast, tea and coffee, and broiled mutton without a gridiron, often blistering her fingers in the process. A house in due time was demolished to make bunks for the worst cases, and the brick from the chimney was converted into an oven, when Mrs. Bickerdyke made bread, yeast having been found in the Chicago boxes, and flour at a neighboring mill, which had furnished flour to secessionists through the war until now. Great multitudes were fed from these rude kitchens. Companies of hungry soldiers were refreshed before those open fire-places and from those ovens. On one occasion a citizen came and told the men to follow him; he would show them a reserve of beef and sheep which had been provided for General Bragg's army, and about thirty head of cattle and twenty sheep was the prize. Large potash kettles were found, which were used over the huge log fires, and various kitchen utensils for cooking were brought into camp from time to time, almost every day adding to our conveniences. The most harrowing scenes are daily witnessed here. A wife came on yesterday only to learn that her dear husband had died the morning previous. Her lamentations were heart-breaking. 'Why could he not have lived until I came? Why?' In the evening came a sister, whose aged parents had sent her to search for their only son. She also came too late. The brother had gone to the soldier's grave two days previous. One continued wail of sorrow goes up from all parts of this stricken land."

Mrs. Mary Bickerdyke, mentioned in Mrs. Porter's letter, was a widow in Cleveland, Ohio, at the opening of the war, and immediately gave herself to the work. Leaving her two little boys at home, she went to the front and made herself useful in the hospitals at Savannah, Chattanooga, and other points. She was a woman of great energy and courage, and it is said that, in carrying on her work for the sick and wounded soldiers, she used {535} to violate military rules without the least hesitation, in order to obtain what she wanted. On one occasion, when she found that an assistant surgeon had been off on a drunken spree and had not made out the special diet list for his ward, leaving the men without any breakfast, she not only denounced him to his face but caused him to be discharged from the service. Going to General Sherman to obtain reinstatement, the surgeon was asked: "Who caused your discharge?" "Why," said he, "I suppose it was Mrs. Bickerdyke." "If that is the case," said General Sherman, "I can do nothing for you. She ranks me." Finding great difficulty in obtaining milk, butter, and eggs for her hospital in Memphis, she resolved to establish a dairy of her own. She therefore went to Illinois, and in one of its farming regions obtained stock, by begging, until she had two hundred cows and one thousand hens, which she took to Memphis, where the commanding general gave her an island in the Mississippi, on which she established her dairy. Her clothing was riddled with holes from sparks at the open fires where she cooked for the field hospitals, and some ladies in Chicago sent her a box of clothing for herself, which included two elegant nightdresses trimmed with ruffles and lace. Using only some of the plainest garments, she traded others with secessionist women of the vicinity for delicacies for the hospital. The two nightdresses she reserved to sell in some place where she thought they would bring a higher price; but on the way to Kentucky she found two wounded soldiers in a miserable shanty for whom nothing had been done, and, after attending to their wounds and finding that they had no shirts, she gave them the nightdresses, ruffles, lace, and all.

Miss Margaret Elizabeth Breckenridge was a native of Philadelphia, but was closely related to the well-known Breckenridge family of Kentucky. She entered upon hospital service at the West in the spring of 1862, and served constantly as long as her health and strength permitted. In June, 1864, while she was prostrated by illness, the news came that her brother-in-law, Col. Peter A. Porter, had been killed in the battle of Cold Harbor, and this proved a greater shock than she could bear. She had been especially helpful in cheering up the soldiers in the hospitals and writing letters for them. One very young soldier who lay wounded said to her: "Where do you come from? How could such a lady as you are come down here to take care of us poor, sick, dirty boys?" "I consider it an honor to wait on you," she said, "and wash off the mud you waded through for me." Another man said: "Please write down your name and let me look at it, and take it home, to show my wife who wrote my letters and combed my hair and fed me. I don't believe you're like other people."

Mrs. Stephen Barker, who was a sister of the attorney-general of Massachusetts, and whose husband was chaplain of a regiment from that State, gave nearly the whole four years of the war to hospital duty, mostly in and around Washington, where at one time she had charge of ten hospitals, which she carefully inspected herself with perfect regularity. In her report she says: "I remember no scenes in camp more picturesque than some of our visits have presented. The great open army wagon stands under some shade-tree, with the officer who has volunteered to help, or the regular field agent, standing in the midst of boxes, bales, and bundles. Wheels, sides, and every projecting point are crowded with eager soldiers, to see what the 'Sanitary' has brought for them. By the side of the great wagon stands the light wagon of the lady, with its curtains all rolled up, while she arranges before and around her the supplies she is to distribute. Another eager crowd surrounds her, patient, kind, and respectful as the first, except that a shade more of softness in their look and tone attest the ever-living power of woman over the rough elements of manhood. In these hours of personal communication with the soldier she finds the true meaning of her work. This is her golden opportunity, when by look and tone and movement she may call up, as if by magic, the pure influences of home, which may have been long banished by the hard necessities of war. Quietly and rapidly the supplies are handed out for companies A, B, C, etc., first from one wagon, then the other, and as soon as a regiment is completed the men hurry back to their tents to receive their share, and write letters on the newly received paper, or apply the long-needed comb or mend the gaping seams in their now 'historic garments.' When at last the supplies are exhausted, and sunset reminds us that we are yet many miles from home, we gather up the remnants, bid good-by to the friendly faces, which already seem like old acquaintances, promising to come again to visit new regiments to-morrow, and hurry home to prepare for the next day's work. Every day, from the first to the twentieth day of June, our little band of missionaries has repeated a day's work such as I have now described."

Miss Amy M. Bradley, a native and resident of Maine, who had been for some years a teacher, volunteered as a nurse at the very beginning of the war and went out with the Fifth Maine regiment, many of the soldiers in which had been her pupils. She became noted for the efficiency and good condition of the hospitals over which she presided, and in December, 1862, was sent to what the soldiers called Camp Misery, on the opposite side of the Potomac from Washington, as a special relief agent of the Sanitary Commission. This camp, as its name indicated, was in a deplorable condition; but she immediately instituted reforms which rapidly improved it. She not only obtained supplies for the invalids and others who were there, but brought about a system of transfer by which more than two thousand of them were sent where they could be taken care of more comfortably, and she was especially efficient in setting right the accounts of men who were suffering from informality in their papers. In eight months she procured the reinstatement of one hundred and fifty soldiers who had been unjustly dropped from the rolls as deserters, and secured their arrears of pay for them.

Miss Arabella Griffith was a native of New Jersey, and at the beginning of the war was engaged to Francis C. Barlow, a promising young lawyer. On April 19, 1861, Mr. Barlow enlisted as a private; on the 20th they were married, and on the 21st he went with his regiment to Washington. A week later Mrs. Barlow followed him, and still later she joined in the hospital work of the Sanitary Commission. The day after the battle of Antietam she found her husband badly wounded, and when, in the spring, he went to the field again, she accompanied him. At Gettysburg he was again wounded and was left within the enemy's lines, but she by great effort managed to get him within the Union lines, where she took care not only of him, but many others of the wounded men in that great battle. In the spring of 1864 she was again in the field, hard at work in the hospitals that were nearest the front. A friend who knew her at this time writes: "We call her 'The Raider.' At Fredericksburg she had in some way gained possession of a wretched-looking pony and a small cart, with which she was continually on the move, driving about town or country in search of such provisions or other articles as were needed for the sick and wounded. The surgeon in charge had on one occasion assigned to us the task of preparing a building, which had been taken for {536} a hospital, for a large number of wounded who were expected immediately. It was empty, containing not the slightest furniture, save a large number of bed-sacks, without material to fill them. On requisition a quantity of straw was obtained, but not nearly enough, and we were standing in a mute despair when Mrs. Barlow came in. 'I'll find some more straw,' was her cheerful reply, and in another moment she was urging her tired beast toward another part of the town where she remembered having seen a bale of straw earlier in the day. Half an hour afterward it had been confiscated, loaded upon the little wagon, and brought to the hospital." Her health became so impaired in the field that, in July, 1864, she died. Her husband, meanwhile, had risen to the rank of brigadier-general, and was known as one of the most gallant men in the army. Surgeon W. H. Reed, writing of her, said: "In the open field she toiled with Mr. Marshall and Miss Gilson, under the scorching sun, with no shelter from the pouring rains, with no thought but for those who were suffering and dying all around her. On the battlefield of Petersburg, hardly out of range of the enemy and at night witnessing the blazing lines of fire from right to left, among the wounded, with her sympathies and powers both of mind and body strained to the last degree, neither conscious that she was working beyond her strength nor realizing the extreme exhaustion of her system, she fainted at her work, and found, only when it was too late, that the raging fever was wasting her life away. Yet to the last her sparkling wit, her brilliant intellect, her unfailing good humor, lighted up our moments of rest and recreation."

Mrs. Nellie M. Taylor (May Dewey) was a native of Watertown, New York, but settled with her husband in New Orleans. There, on the breaking out of the war, she was subjected to all kinds of persecution because she was a Unionist. On one occasion a mob assembled around her house, where she was watching at the bedside of her dying husband, and the leader said: "Madam, we give you five minutes to decide whether you are for the South or for the North. If at the end of that time you declare yourself for the South, your house shall remain; if for the North, it must come down." "Sir," she answered, "I will say to you and your crowd that I am, always have been, and ever shall be, for the Union. Tear my house down if you choose!" The mob seemed to be a little ashamed of themselves at this answer, and finally dispersed without destroying the house. Seven times before the capture of the city by the National forces her home was searched by self-constituted committees of citizens, who every time found the National flag displayed at the head of her bed; and on one occasion she was actually fired at from a window. Mrs. Taylor gave a large part of her time during the war to hard work in the hospitals, and in addition she spent many of her earnings for the benefit of the sick and wounded soldiers.

In the spring of 1862, Governor Harvey, of Wisconsin, visited General Grant's army with medicines and other supplies for the wounded from his State, and just after the battle of Shiloh he was accidentally drowned there. His widow, Cordelia P. Harvey, devoted herself to the work in which he had lost his life, and served faithfully in the hospitals of that department. One of her most valuable achievements consisted in persuading the government to establish general hospitals in the Northern States, where suffering soldiers might be sent and have a better chance of recovery than if kept in the hospitals further south.

Mrs. Sarah R. Johnston was a native of North Carolina, and at the beginning of the war was teaching at Salisbury, in that State. When the first prisoners were brought to the town for confinement in the stockade there, the secessionist women turned out in carriages to escort them through the town, and greeted them with contemptuous epithets as they filed past. The sight of this determined Mrs. Johnston to devote herself to the work of ameliorating their condition. This subjected her to all sorts of insults from her townspeople and broke up her school; but she persevered, nevertheless, and earned the gratitude of many of the unfortunate men who there suffered from the studied cruelty of the Confederate government. She made up her carpets and spare blankets into moccasins, which she gave to the prisoners as they arrived; and when they stood in front of her house waiting their turn to be mustered into the prison, she supplied them, as far as she could, with bread and water, for in many instances they had been on the railroad forty-eight hours with nothing to eat or drink. The prisoners were not permitted to leave their ranks to assist her in obtaining the water, all of which had to be drawn from a well with an old-fashioned windlass. On one occasion a Confederate sergeant in charge told her that if she attempted to do anything for the Yankees or come outside her gate, he would pin her to the earth with his bayonet. Paying no attention to this, she took a basket of bread in one hand and a bucket of water in the other, and walked past him on her usual errand. The sergeant followed her and touched her upon the shoulder with the point of his bayonet, whereupon she turned and asked him why he did not pin her to the earth, as he had promised to. Some of the Confederate soldiers called out: "Sergeant, you can't make anything out of that woman; you had better leave her alone." And then he desisted.

Mrs. Mary Morris Husband, of Philadelphia, was a {537} granddaughter of Robert Morris of Revolutionary fame. When her son, who had enlisted in the Army of the Potomac, was seriously ill on the Peninsula, she went there to take care of him, and what she saw determined her to give her services to the country as a nurse. She was on one of the hospital transports at Harrison's Landing when the Confederates bombarded it, but kept right on with her work as if she were not under fire. She was at Antietam immediately after the battle, and remained there two months in charge of the wounded, sleeping in a tent in all kinds of weather and attending the hospital with perfect regularity. She contrived an ensign for her tent by cutting out the figure of a bottle in red flannel and sewing it upon a piece of calico, this bottle flag indicating the place where medicines were to be obtained.

In the severe winter of 1862-63 she often left her tent several times in the night and visited the cots of those who were apparently near death, to make sure that the nurses did not neglect them; and when diphtheria appeared in the hospital and many of the nurses left from fear of it, she remained at her post just as if there were no such thing as a contagious disease. It is said that in several instances where she believed a soldier had been unjustly condemned by court-martial, she obtained a pardon or commutation of his sentence by laying the case directly before President Lincoln.

Miss Katherine P. Wormeley, known of late as a translator of Balzac's works, is a native of England. Her father, born in Virginia, was an officer in the British Navy. Her mother was a native of Boston. At the beginning of the war Miss Wormeley was living at Newport, R. I., and almost at once she enlisted in the work of aid for the soldiers. When the hospital transport service was organized, in the summer of 1862, she was one of the first volunteers for that branch of the service. Later she had charge of a large hospital in Rhode Island, which held two thousand five hundred patients.

Among others who volunteered for the hospital transport service were Mrs. Joseph Howland, whose husband was colonel of the Sixteenth New York regiment, and her sister, Mrs. Robert S. Howland, whose husband was a clergyman working in the hospitals. The latter Mrs. Howland, who died in 1864, was the author of a short poem, entitled "In the Hospital," which has become famous.

"I lay me down to sleep, with little thought or care Whether my waking find me here--or there!

A bowing, burdened head, that only asks to rest, Unquestioning, upon a loving breast.

My good right hand forgets its cunning now; To march the weary march I know not how.

I am not eager, bold, nor strong--all that is past; I am ready not to do at last, at last.

My half-day's work is done, and this is all my part-- I give a patient God my patient heart;

And grasp His banner still, though all the blue be dim: These stripes, as well as stars, lead after Him."

These two ladies had two unmarried sisters, Jane C. and Georgiana M. Woolsey, who also were in the service. Miss Georgiana Woolsey wrote some entertaining letters from the seat of war, in one of which she tells of some women in Gettysburg who, like Jennie Wade, kept at their work of making bread for the soldiers while the battle was going on. One of them had refused to leave the house or go into the cellar until a third shell passed through the room, when, having got the last loaf into the oven, she ran down the stairs. "Why did you not go before?" she was asked. "Oh, you see," she answered, "if I had, the rebels would 'a' come in and daubed the dough all over the place." These ladies were cousins of Miss Sarah C. Woolsey, who is now, under her pen-name of Susan Coolidge, well known as a writer for the young. She also served for some time in the hospitals.

Anna Maria Ross, of Philadelphia, was known as a most energetic worker in the hospitals, chiefly in what was called the Cooper Shop Hospital of Philadelphia, of which she was principal until, from overwork and anxiety, she died in December, 1863.

Miss Mary J. Safford, a native of Vermont, was living in Cairo, Ill., when the war began, and at once enlisted in the work of aid for the soldiers. Immediately after the battle of Shiloh {538} she went to the front with a large supply of hospital stores, and labored there day and night for three weeks, when she came North with a transport loaded with wounded men. She is said to have been the first woman in the West to engage in this work. The hardships that she endured caused a disease of the spine, and at the end of a year and a half she broke down, and had to be sent to Europe for treatment.

Mrs. Annie Wittenmeyer, of Iowa, was appointed sanitary agent for that State, and is said to have been the originator of the diet kitchens attached to the hospitals. The object of these was to have the food for the wounded and sick prepared in a skilful manner and administered according to surgeons' orders, and they were a very efficient branch of the hospital service.

Another Iowa woman who devoted herself to the service was Miss Melcenia Elliott. She served in the hospitals in Tennessee, and afterward in St. Louis had charge of the Home for Refugees. Here she established a school, and instituted many reforms in the direction of cleanliness and industry. It is related that in Memphis, when she was refused admission to one of the hospitals where a neighbor's son was ill, she every night scaled a high fence in the rear of the building and managed to get into the ward where she could attend to the poor boy until he died.

Miss Clara Davis, of Massachusetts, was one of the earliest volunteers, and she was so assiduous in her labors and so cheerful in her manners in the hospital that the soldiers came to look upon her with most profound admiration and affection. One of them was heard to say, "There must be wings hidden beneath her cloak." Her labors were mainly with the Army of the Potomac, and she continued them until an attack of typhoid fever made further work of the kind impossible.

Mrs. R. H. Spencer, of Oswego, N. Y., whose husband enlisted in the One Hundred and Forty-seventh New York regiment, followed that organization to the front, and made herself useful as a nurse and hospital attendant. On the march toward Gettysburg she rode a horse which carried, besides herself, bedding, cooking utensils, clothing, and more than three hundred pounds of supplies for the sick and wounded. While that great battle was in progress, Mrs. Spencer, a part of the time actually under fire, established a field hospital in which sixty wounded men were treated. One day she discovered a townsman of her own who had been shot through the throat, and whose case was pronounced hopeless by the surgeon, as he could swallow nothing. Mrs. Spencer took him in hand, and asked him if he could do without food for a week. The man, who was young and strong, gave signs that he could. "Then," said she, "do as I tell you, and you shall not die." She procured a basin of pure cold water, and directed him to keep the wound continually wet, which he did, until in a few days the inflammation subsided and the edges of the wound could be closed up. After which she began to feed him carefully with broth, and every day brought further improvement until he entirely recovered. When the ammunition barge exploded at City Point a piece of shell struck her in the side, but inflicted only a heavy bruise.

Mrs. Harriet Foote Hawley, wife of Gen. Joseph R. Hawley, of Connecticut, did much work in the hospitals on the Carolina coast, whither she had gone in the first instance to engage in teaching the freedmen. At Wilmington, where typhoid fever broke out, she remained at her post when many others were frightened away. In the last month of the war she was injured on the head by the overturning of an ambulance, and this rendered her an invalid for a long time.

Miss Jessie Home, a native of Scotland, entered the service as a hospital nurse at Washington and continued there for two years, making many friends and doing a vast amount of good, until, from overwork, she was struck down by disease.

Mrs. Sarah P. Edson entered the service during the first year of the war, and was assigned to the general hospital at Winchester, Va. In the spring of 1862 she was with McClellan's army on the Peninsula, and after the battle of Williamsburg, learning that her son was among the wounded, she walked twelve miles to find him, apparently dying, where, with other wounded men, he was greatly in need of care. She worked night and day to alleviate their sufferings, and brought something like cleanliness and order out of the dreadful condition in which she found them. In the ensuing summer she passed through a long and severe illness in consequence of her labors. On her recovery she formed a plan for the training of nurses, and, after her experiment had been tried, an official of the medical department declared "that it was more than a success, it was a triumph."

Miss Maria M. C. Hall, of Washington, was associated with Mrs. Fales in hospital work, and went through the four years of it with unfailing energy and enthusiasm. She finally became general superintendent of the Naval Academy Hospital at Annapolis. After the war she wrote: "I mark my hospital days as my best ones, and thank God for the way in which He led me into the good work, and for the strength which kept me through it all."

Mrs. A. H. Gibbons was a daughter of Isaac T. Hopper, the famous Quaker philanthropist, and wife of James Sloane Gibbons, who wrote the famous song, "We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more." With her eldest daughter (afterward Mrs. Emerson) she went to Washington in the autumn of 1861, and entered upon hospital service. One day they discovered a small hospital near Falls Church, where about forty men were ill of typhoid fever, and one young soldier, who seemed to be at the point of death, appealed to them, saying: "Come and take care of me, and I shall get well; if you do not come, I shall die." Finding that the hospital was in a wretched condition, they got leave to take it in charge, and presently had it in excellent order, with a large number of the patients recovering. These ladies were on duty at Point Lookout for over a year, and there they were obliged to oppose and evade the officers in various ways, in order to assist the escaped slaves, whom these officers were only too ready and anxious to return to slavery. While they were engaged in this work, their home in New York was sacked by the mob in the draft riots.

Mrs. Jerusha R. Small, of Cascade, Iowa, followed her husband, who enlisted at the beginning of the war, and became a nurse in the regimental hospitals. At the battle of Shiloh, the tent in which she was caring for a number of wounded men, among whom was her husband, was struck by shells from the enemy's guns, and she was obliged to get her patients away as fast as she could to an extemporized hospital beyond the range of fire. After the most arduous service, extending over several weeks with no intermission, she was struck down by disease and died. To one who said to her in her last hours, "You did wrong to expose yourself so," she answered, "No, I feel that I have done right. I think I have been the means of saving some lives, and that of my dear husband among the rest; and these I consider of far more value than mine, for now they can go and help our country in its hour of need." She was buried with military honors.

Another lady who accompanied her husband to the field was {539} the wife of Hermann Canfield, colonel of the Seventy-first Ohio regiment, who was killed in the battle of Shiloh. After taking his body to their home, she returned to the army and continued her hospital service until the close of the war.

When the Rev. Shepard Wells and his wife were driven from East Tennessee because of their loyalty to the government, they went to St. Louis, where he engaged in the work of the Christian Commission, and she entered the hospital and became superintendent of a special diet kitchen, which did an immense amount of work for the cause.

Mrs. E. C. Witherell, of Louisville, Ky., was another of those who devoted themselves to the merciful and patriotic work in the hospitals at the expense of their lives. She was head nurse on a hospital steamer in the Mississippi until she was stricken down with fever and died in July, 1862. Still another of those was Miss Phebe Allen, a daughter of Iowa, who served in a hospital at St. Louis until she died in the summer of 1864. Mrs. Edwin Greble, mother of Lieut. John T. Greble, who was killed in the battle of Big Bethel, and of another son who died in the army, of fever, devoted herself to hospital service and to preparing garments and blankets for the soldiers.

Mrs. Isabella Fogg, of Maine, was another of those who pushed their way into the service before it was organized, and found some difficulty in so doing. But she got there at last, and took part in the hospital transport service in the waters of Chesapeake Bay. After the battle of Chancellorsville, she was serving in a temporary hospital at United States Ford when it was shelled by the Confederates. Her son was in the Army of the Shenandoah, and was badly wounded in the battle of Cedar Creek. While performing her duties on a Western hospital boat, in charge of the diet kitchen, she fell through a hatchway and received injuries that disabled her for life.

Mrs. E. E. George, of Indiana, when she applied for a place in the service, was refused on the ground that she was too old. But in spite of her advanced years she insisted upon enlisting in the good cause, and in Sherman's campaign of 1864 she had charge of the Fifteenth Army Corps hospital, and in the battles before Atlanta she was several times under fire. The next spring she was on duty at Wilmington, N. C., when eleven thousand prisoners released from Salisbury were brought there in the deplorable condition that was common to those who had been in Carolina in Confederate stockades. Her incessant labors in behalf of those unfortunate men prostrated her, and she died.

Large numbers of the troops raised in the Eastern and Middle States passed through Philadelphia on their way to the seat of war, and some philanthropic ladies of that city established a refreshment saloon where meals were furnished free to soldiers who were either going to the front or going home on furlough or because disabled. Among the most assiduous workers here was Mary B. Wade, widow of a sea captain, who, despite her seventy years, was almost never absent, night or day, through the whole four years.

Another widow who gave herself to the cause was Henrietta L. Colt (_née_ Peckham), a native of Albany County, N. Y., whose husband was a well-known lawyer. She labored in the Western hospitals and on the river hospital steamers, looking especially after the Wisconsin men, as she was for some time a resident of Milwaukee. She wrote in one of her letters: "I have visited seventy-two hospitals, and would find it difficult to choose the most remarkable among the many heroisms I every day witnessed. I was more impressed by the gentleness and refinement that seemed to grow up in the men when suffering from horrible wounds than from anything else. It seemed to me that the sacredness of the cause for which they offered up their lives gave them a heroism almost superhuman."

Among the great fairs that were held for the benefit of the Sanitary Commission, that in Brooklyn, N. Y., was one of the most successful. It paid into the treasury of the Commission three hundred thousand dollars and furnished supplies valued at two hundred thousand more. This was the work of the Brooklyn Women's Relief Association, of which Mrs. James S. T. Stranahan was president. Her efforts in this work broke down her health, and she died in the first year after the war.

Miss Hattie A. Dada, of New York, was one of the women who volunteered as nurses immediately after the first battle of Bull Run. From that date she was continually in service till the war closed--her time being about equally divided between the Eastern and Western armies. After General Banks's retreat in the Shenandoah Valley, she and Miss Susan E. Hall, remaining with the wounded, became prisoners to the Confederates and were held about three months. From that time these two ladies were inseparable, their last two years of service being in the scantily furnished hospitals at Murfreesboro, Tenn., one of the most difficult fields for such work.

At the beginning of the war, Miss Emily E. Parsons, daughter of Prof. Theophilus Parsons, of Cambridge, Mass., entered a hospital in Boston as pupil and assistant to educate herself for work among the soldiers. A year and a half later she volunteered and was sent to Fort Schuyler, near New York. Early in 1863 she went to St. Louis, where she served in the hospitals {540} and on the hospital steamers. The Benton Hospital, under her superintendence, became famous for its efficiency and its large percentage of recoveries.

Next after the men who commanded armies, the name of Gen. James B. Ricketts is one of the most familiar in the history of the war. When he was gravely wounded at Bull Run and taken prisoner, his wife managed to make her way to him, sharing his captivity, and by careful nursing saved his life. He was exchanged in December, 1861, and his wife afterward devoted herself to the care of the wounded in the Army of the Potomac.

Mrs. Jane R. Munsell, of Maryland, entered upon the service when she saw the wounded of the battle of Antietam, and devoted both her life and her property to it until she died of the incessant labor.

Besides these women who served in the hospitals, there were others who performed quite as important work in organizing the means of supply--in holding fairs, in obtaining materials and workers and superintending the manufacture of garments and other necessary articles, and forwarding them to the right places at the right time. One of the foremost of these was Mrs. Mary A. Livermore, a native of Boston, who afterward became eminent as a pulpit orator. She organized numerous aid societies in the Northwestern States, made tours of the hospitals in the Mississippi valley, to find out what was needed and how the supplies were being disposed of, and was most active in getting up and carrying through to success the great Northwestern Sanitary Fair in Chicago. There was hardly a city in the North in which one or more similar women did not rise to the occasion and do similar work, though on a smaller scale.

NOTE.--For many of the facts related in this chapter we are indebted to Dr. L. P. Brackett's excellent volume on "Woman's Work in the Civil War."

{541}

INDEX.

Besides the usual abbreviations for titles and given names of persons, and for names of States, N stands for National or Federal, C for Confederate, port. for portrait, inf. for infantry, cav. for cavalry, art'y for artillery.

"A" tents, 496.

Abbott, John S. C., quoted, 513, 517.

----, Joseph C., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 440.

----, ----, N capt., 22d Ill., 117.

Abb's Valley, W. Va., captured, 339.

Abercrombie, John J., N brig.-gen., Falling Waters, 111; port., 159.

Abingdon, Va., 223.

Acquia, Va., 165.

Acton, Thomas C., New York draft riots, 285.

----, ----, N maj., killed, Lookout Mountain, 313.

Adams, Charles Francis, U. S. minister to England, letter from Sec'y Sumner, 372-314; instructed by Lincoln, 374.

----, John, C brig.-gen., killed, 430.

----, John Quincy, President of the U. S., quoted on slavery, 183.

----, of Mississippi, C spy, 505.

----, ----, N aid to Force, Atlanta, 389.

Advance on Petersburg, The, 397-400.

Aiken's Landing, Va., 322.

Alabama secedes, 9; 14th inf. captured by Sherman, 386.

---- regimental losses, 6th, 16th, 22d, 58th, 41st, 3d, 26th inf., 483, 484.

----, C cruiser, 371; destroyed by "Kearsarge," 372; ill., 373; Sumner's letter, 374.

Albemarle, C ram, Plymouth, N. C., 434; destroyed by Cushing, 435.

Albemarle Sound, N. C., 67, 71, 72.

Alcott, Louisa M., port., 324; hospital services, 326.

Alden, James, N rear-adm., Mobile Bay, 393.

Aldie, Va., skirmishes, 250, 267.

Alexander, Barton S., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 147.

----, E. Porter, C brig.-gen., port., 265.

Alexandria, La., 375.

----, Va., 25, 49, 52, 165, 353, 402.

Allatoona Pass, Ga., 385; ill., 421.

Alleghany Mountains, 75, 100.

Allen, Henry W., C maj.-gen., port., 508.

----, Phebe, Miss, 539.

Allen's Farm, Va., action, 158.

"All quiet along the Potomac to-night," Mrs. Ethel Lynn Beers, 126.

American Hotel, Richmond, Va., 454.

Ames, Adelbert, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 440.

Anderson, Charles, N col., Lebanon, Tenn., 229.

----, Rev. Galusha, 41.

----, George B., C brig.-gen., killed, Antietam, 180.

----, George T., C brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 259; Spottsylvania, 358.

----, John T., C col., residence destroyed by Hunter, 319.

----, Joseph R., C brig.-gen., 319.

----, J. Patton, C maj.-gen., La Vergne, Tenn., 227.

----, Paulding, C, Munfordville, 115.

----, Richard H., C lieut.-gen., Antietam, 180; port., 195; Shenandoah, 406.

----, Robert, N b'v't maj.-gen., ports., 7, 11; sent to command Charleston Harbor, 10; moves from Moultrie to Sumter, 12; defends, 15; surrenders and evacuates Sumter, 17, 18; takes command in Kentucky, 41.

----, ----, N pvt., Gettysburg, 260.

Andersonville, Ga., prison camps, 321, 323, 390, 524, 525; ill., 315.

André, a modern (S. B. Davis, C lieut.), 470-472.

Andrew, John A., gov. of Mass., port., 18; early equips State militia, 23; influence, 448.

Andrews, Christopher C., N b'v't maj.-gen., Fitzhugh's Woods, Ark., 437.

----, James J., N spy, port., 529; execution, 529.

Annapolis, Md., 24.

Anthony, Daniel R., N col., attitude toward slavery, 185.

Antietam, Md., battle, 177-179, 350; map of battle, 179; Sanitary Commission, 325, 406; losses at battle, 477.

Antietam campaign, The, 175-180.

Anti-slavery standard, 128.

Apache Cañon, N. M., battle, 233, 234.

Appalachicola, Fla., 10.

Appomattox C. H., Va., ill., 492; Sheridan stops Lee's retreat at, 446; Lee surrenders at, 446; McLean house, where Lee surrendered, ills., 447, 494.

Aqueduct Bridge, Potomac River, ill., 473.

Arago, N ship, 18.

Archer, James J., C brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 251, 267.

Arkadelphia, Ark., engagement, 343.

Arkansas secedes, 35; guerilla warfare, 79; 1st cav., Fayetteville, 344; 1st (C) inf. losses, 484.

----, C gunboat, destroyed, 270.

Arkansas Post, Ark., captured by McClernand, 272, 273.

Arlington Heights, Va., 25.

Armistead, Lewis A., C brig.-gen., Malvern Hill, 159; Antietam, 180; killed, Gettysburg, 257, 451.

Armstrong, ----, C capt., killed, Belmont, 122.

----, Frank C., C brig.-gen., port., 210; Britton's Lane, Tenn., 227.

Army organization, North and South, 47-49.

Arnold, W. A., N capt., Bristoe Sta., Va., 334.

Arthur, Chester A., President of the U. S., Porter relief bill vetoed, 170.

Asboth, Alexander, N b'v't maj.-gen., Pea Ridge, 80; port., 81.

Ashby, Henry, C col., Somerset, Ky., 339.

----, Turner, C brig.-gen., Bolivar Heights, 113; Winchester, 216; killed, Harrisonburg, 216.

Ashby's Gap, Va., 333.

Aspinwall, William H., 15.

Astor House, New York, ill., 228.

Atlanta, Ga., 307, 353; Sherman's campaign, 383-390; "Gate City," 387; occupied by Sherman, 390; ills. of battle, 384, 516; military depot, 419; shops and depot destroyed, 421; ill. of works, 424, 426; ill., 428.

----, C ironclad, surrendered to Du Pont, 289, 290.

Atlanta campaign, The, 383-390.

Atlantic Monthly, quoted, 395, 425-427.

Atlee's Station, Va., Kilpatrick's raid, 531.

Augur, Christopher C., N maj.-gen., defence of Washington, 403; port., 530.

Augusta, Ga., 10, 389.

Averell, William W., N b'v't maj.-gen., 317; Kelly's Ford, 332; cavalry raid, Va. and W. Va., 333; port., 335; Winchester, Va., 404; Shenandoah, 406, 407; Crockett's Cove, W. Va., 433.

Avery, ----, N lieut., Tranter's Creek, N. C., 218.

Averysboro', N. C., battle, 441.

Ayres, Romeyn B., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 443.

Babcock, Orville E., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 527.

Bacon, A. G., N capt., killed, Sacramento, 115.

Badeau, Adam, N brig.-gen., port., 277.

Bahama Channel, 63.

Bahia, Brazil, "Florida" captured, 372.

Bailey, Joseph, N b'v't maj.-gen., Grand Ecore, La., 381, 382.

----, Theodorus, N commodore, at N. O., port., 93, 95.

Bailey's dam, Red River, ill., 380, 381, 382.

Baird, Absalom, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 307.

Baker, Edward D., N col., killed, Ball's Bluff, 109; port., 110, 451.

Baker, L. C., N col., captures Booth, 511; adventures, 511.

Balaklava, charge, compared with Gettysburg, 476.

Bald Hill (Atlanta), battle, 387, 388.

Baldwin, Philemon P., N col., killed, Chickamauga, 299.

----, Judge, quoted, 315.

Balloons, 162.

Ball's Bluff, Va., battle, 109, 110.

Baltic, N transport, 15, 17.

Baltimore, Md., 6th Mass. regiment attacked in, 5, 23; Republican convention, 412.

Baltimore and Ohio R. R., 28, 45, 47, 320, 337, 406.

Banks, Nathaniel P., N maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 154; Pope's campaign, 163-168; Cedar Mountain, 164; Shenandoah Valley, 216; Port Hudson, 276, 308, 345; under Grant, 351, 353; Shreveport, 375; ill., 377; Sabine Cross Roads, 377; port., 378; Pleasant Hill, 378-381.

Banks's Ford, Chancellorsville, 243.

Barboursville, W. Va., 113.

Barker, Mrs. Stephen, 535.

Barksdale, William, C brig.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 254, 259, 451.

Barlow, Arabella G. (Mrs. Francis C.), hospital services and death, 326, 467, 470, 535.

----, C. J., quoted, 317.

----, Francis C., N maj.-gen., Chancellorsville, 245; port., 255; Spottsylvania, 359; Bethesda Church, 365; Cold Harbor, 365; Gettysburg anecdote, 465-467, 479.

Barnard, John G., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 159; quoted, 162.

Barnes, James, N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 259.

----, Joseph K., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 414.

Barnett's Ford, Va., 335.

Barney, N gunboat, 348.

Barnum, Henry A., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 414.

Barron, Samuel, C flag officer, 68.

Bartlett, Joseph J., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 192, 398.

----, William C., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 386.

Bartlett's Mills, Va., 336.

Barton, Clara, Fort Wagner, 291; hospital services, 326; port., 533.

----, Seth M., C brig.-gen., port., 281.

----, William B., N col., 220.

Bartow, F. S., C col., at Bull Run, 55, 451.

Bate, William B., C maj.-gen., port., 314.

Bates, Edward, N attorney-gen., port., 6.

----, Samuel P., Hooker's comments on Chancellorsville, 243.

Batesville, Ark., action, 343.

Baton Rouge, La., 10, 270, 274.

Battery Gregg, Morris Island, 290, 294.

---- Lamar, 219.

---- Reynolds, Fort Wagner, ill., 291.

---- Robinette, Corinth, 207.

Battle Creek, Ala., 301.

"Battle Cry of Freedom, The," George F. Root, 138.

"Battle Hymn of the Republic, The," Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, 127.

Battle of Chattanooga, The, 305-314.

---- of Mobile Bay, The, 391-396.

Baxter, Henry, N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 252; port., 255; Wilderness, 357.

Bayard, George D., N brig-.-gen., Cedar Mountain, 164; Harrisonburg, 216; killed, Fredericksburg, 196; port., 484.

Bayou Lafourche, La., 382.

---- Teche, La., operations, 345, 347.

Beall, John Y., C, Lake Erie raid, 528.

----, Richard L. T., C brig.-gen., port., 265.

Bean, William S., N quar.-mas.-sergt., Chickamauga, 303.

Beaufort, N. C., 72, 87, 193.

Beauregard, P. G. T., C lieut.-gen., port., 15; attacks and captures Sumter, 15-17, 49; in command C troops, 52; at Bull Run, 53, 54, 57; Corinth, 100; Shiloh, 101-108; succeeded by Bragg, 200, 206; comment on Secessionville, 219; comment on the "Black Flag," 235; siege of Charleston, 289; cartoon, 461.

Beaver, James A., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 368.

Beaver Dam Creek, Va., battle, 155.

Bee, Barnard E., C brig.-gen., port., 60; at Bull Run, 53, 55, 451.

Beech Grove, Ky., 73.

Beecher, Henry Ward, Rev., at Sumter, 17, 18; in England, 66; port., 186.

Beekman, ----, N capt., Hawes's Shop, Va., 363, 364.

Beers, Mrs. Ethel Lynn, "All quiet along the Potomac to-night," 126.

----, ----, N maj., Jonesville, Va., 433.

Beginning of bloodshed, The, 29-36.

Beiral, ----, N capt., Ball's Bluff, 110.

Belle Isle, Va., prison camps, 321, 323, 531.

Belle Plain, Va., ill., 352, 362.

Belleville, O., action, 297.

Bellis, ----, N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Bellows, Henry W., Rev., Sanitary Commission, 324-327; port., 326.

Belmont, Mo., engagement, 122.

Bendix, John E., N b'v't brig.-gen., at Big Bethel, 45.

Benedict, Lewis, N col., killed, Pleasant Hill, 379.

Benham, Henry W., N b'v't maj.-gen., W. Va., 113, 114; Charleston Harbor, 219.

Benjamin, Judah P., C atty.-gen., sec'y of war, sec'y of state, port., 26; order concerning prisoners, 316.

Bennett, James Gordon, cartoon, 462.

----, ----, police officer, New York draft riots, 285.

Benning, Henry L., C brig.-gen., Wilderness, 357.

Benton, William P., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 392.

Bentonville, N. C., battle, 441.

Berdan, Hiram, N b'v't maj.-gen., Manassas Gap, Va., 333; port., 336.

Bermuda Hundred, Va., occupied by Butler, 397.

Berry, Hiram G., N maj.-gen., killed, Chancellorsville, 242, 246; port., 245.

----, ----, N capt., 318.

Berryville, Va., 334, 406.

Bethesda Church, Va., action, 365.

Bickerdyke, Mary A., Mrs., 534; port., 534.

Bidwell, Daniel D., N brig.-gen., killed, Cedar Creek, Va., 410.

Bienville, N gunboat, 71.

Big Bethel, Va., 24; battle of, 45; ill., 46.

Big Black River, Miss., engagement, 275; ill., 278.

Big Creek Gap, Tenn., action, 225.

Big Hill, Ky., battle, 224.

Big Mound, Dak., engagement, 348.

Big Sandy, Ga., Andrews's raid, 529.

Big Sandy River, Ky., 73.

Billings, ----, N paymaster, recaptured, 322.

Birge, Henry W., N b'v't maj.-gen., Irish Bend, La., 345.

Birkenhead, Eng., "Alabama" built, 371.

Birney, David B., N maj.-gen., Chantilly, 169; Fredericksburg, 195; Gettysburg, 252-265; port., 255; Robertson's Tavern, Va., 336; Spottsylvania, 362; advance on Petersburg, 397; port., 401.

----, James G., port., 187.

Bissell, Josiah W., N col., Island No. 10, 99.

Black Chapter, The, 315-323.

"Black Flag, The," Paul Hamilton Hayne, 133.

Black flag displayed, 316.

Black Walnut Creek, Mo., 122.

Blackburn's Ford (Bull Run), 53, 54; ill., 167.

Blackman, Albert M., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 440.

Blackwood's Magazine, England, 268.

Blair, Austin, gov. of Mich., port., 18.

----, Francis P., Jr., N maj.-gen., 38, 41; Vicksburg campaign, 272; Atlanta campaign, 387, 513; (sketch), 515; port., 515.

----, Montgomery, N Postmaster-gen., port., 6; criticised by Gurowski, 236, 237.

----, ----, Rev., murdered, 315.

Blake, Henry N., N capt., 171; Chancellorsville, 245; quoted, 353.

Blakeslee, ----, N lieut., quoted, 434.

Blenheim, battle of, 104.

Blenker, Louis, N brig.-gen., 49; port., 53; at Bull Run, 60, 143.

Blockade of Southern ports, 67.

Bloodgood, Abraham, 84.

Bloody Lane, Antietam, 178.

Blooming Gap, W. Va., battle, 217.

Blount's Farm, Ala., engagement, 295.

Blountsville, Tenn., action, 341.

Blue's Gap, W. Va., action, 216.

Blunt, G. W., 15.

----, James G., N maj.-gen., Old Fort Wayne, Ark., 231, 232; Cane Hill, Ark., 232, 233; Prairie Grove, Ark., 233; Fort Smith, Ark., 344.

Boggs, Charles S., N rear-adm., at N. O., port., 93.

Bohlen, Henry, N brig.-gen., port., 480.

Bolivar, Mo., 119.

----, Tenn., 206; skirmish, 227, 437.

---- Heights, Va., 109; engagement, 111.

Bolton, Miss., 275.

Bond, F. S., N maj., Chickamauga, 301.

Bonham, Milledge L., C brig.-gen., 52; at Bull Run, 53.

"Bonnie Blue Flag, The," Harry McCarthy, 136, 413.

Boomer, George B., N col., Iuka, 204.

Booneville, Mo., action, 41, 405.

Boonsborough, Md., 175; battle, 176.

Booth, John Wilkes, port., 510; reward offered for arrest, 510; captured, 511.

----, Lionel F., N maj., killed, Fort Pillow, 320.

Border States, 36-47.

Boston Mountains, Ark., 80; engagement, 232.

Boteler, A. R., residence burned, 319.

Bottom's Bridge, Va., 433.

Bottsford, ----, N lieut., Clark's Hollow, W. Va., 218.

Boulger, Robert E., N pvt. 23d Mich. inf., 520.

Bowers, Theodore S., N col., port., 31.

Bowling Green. Ky., 75, 76, 209; evacuated, 223.

Bowne, ----, N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Boyd, Belle, C spy, port., 506.

Boynton, H. V. N., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 302.

Bracht, ----, N maj., 18th Ky., Mt. Sterling, 224.

Bradford, W. F., N maj., killed, Fort Pillow, 320.

Bradley, Amy, hospital services, 326, 535.

Bradley, ----, N maj., Big Mound, Dak., 348.

Bradyville, Tenn., action, 340.

Bragg, Braxton, C gen., Corinth, 100; port., 104, 192; succeeds Beauregard, 200; Perryville, 201, 203, 206; Murfreesboro', 209-213, 223, 295; Chickamauga, 297-303; Chattanooga, 305-311; superseded by Johnston, 311, 342, 350; anecdote, 458; retreat through Tenn., anecdote, 503.

Branch, L. O'Brien, C brig.-gen., at Newbern, 72; killed, Antietam, 180.

Brandy Station, Va., battle, 249.

Brannan, John M., N b'v't maj.-gen., 219, 220; Chickamauga, 302.

Breckenridge, ----, C maj., Kelly's Ford, Va., 332.

----, Margaret E., Mrs., port., 534, 535.

Breckinridge, John C., C maj.-gen., 43; Presidential candidate, 117; Murfreesboro', 210; port., 213; Baton Rouge, 270, 403; Newmarket, Va., 433; sec'y of war, 453; Bull's Gap, Tenn., 524.

----, Rev. Robert J., 41.

Breese, S. L., N naval comr., port., 370.

Breshwood, ----, N capt., 10.

Bridgeport, Ala., 301, 305.

Bright, John, 66.

Bristoe Station, Va., destroyed by Jackson, 166; engagement, 333, 334.

Bristol, Tenn., action, 341.

Britton's Lane, Tenn., action, 227.

Brockway, ----, N lieut., Gettysburg, 255.

Brooke, John R., N b'v't brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 259; Cold Harbor, 367.

Brooklyn, N cruiser, New Orleans, 90-93; Mobile Bay, 391-393.

Brooks, E. P., N lieut., recaptured, 322.

----, ----, N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Brough, John, gov. of Ohio, port., 18, 287.

Brown, B. Gratz, 41.

----, Egbert B., N brig.-gen., Springfield, Mo., 344.

----, John, invasion of Va., 7, 448; ill., "Last moments," 21; port., 182.

----, Joseph E., gov. of Ga., port., 420; at odds with Davis, 420, 425.

----, Theodore F., N b'v't maj., Bristoe Sta., Va., 334.

----, ----, N lieut., Kelly's Ford, Va., 332.

----, Wilson, Andrews's raid, 529.

Browne, Junius Henri, N correspondent, adventures, 520-523.

----, William M., C col., port., 450.

Brownell, Francis E., N, 25.

----, Henry Howard, "Bay Fight," 395, 396.

----, Mrs. Kady, N pvt., 5th R. I. inf., 470.

Brownlow, Rev. William G., 44; imprisoned, 316.

Brown's Ferry (Chattanooga), 305.

Bruinsburg, Miss., 274, 276, 279.

Brunswick Batteries, 531.

Brush Knob, Tenn., 313.

Buchanan, Franklin, C adm. in command of "Merrimac," 83, 85; port., 87; Mobile Bay, 391, 392.

----, James, President of the U. S., 9, 14, 19, 36; attitude toward slavery, 183.

----, T. McKean, N comr., killed, Bayou Teche, 345.

Buchanan, Va., devastated by Hunter, 319.

Buckingham, C. P., N brig.-gen., port., 414.

----, William A., gov. of Conn., port., 18; influence, 448.

Buckner, Simon B., C lieut.-gen., Fort Donelson, 76, 79; port., 80, 508.

Buell, Don Carlos, N maj.-gen., 100; Shiloh, 101-104; port., 104; Munfordville, 115; Perryville, 201; superseded by Rosecrans, 203, 209; Bowling Green, 223, 307.

----, J. T., N col., Independence, Mo., 231.

Buffalo Mountain, W. Va., engagement, 114.

Buffington's Ford, O., battle, 297.

Buford, John, N maj.-gen., Pope's campaign, 163, 164; Cedar Mountain, 164; Brandy Sta., Va., 249; port., 250; Gettysburg, 251-268; Manassas Gap, Va., 333; Rappahannock Sta., 335.

----, Napoleon B., N maj.-gen., Corinth, 206; Union City, Tenn., 226.

Bull Pasture Mountain, battle, 216.

Bull Run, Va., 1st battle, ill., 50, 51-61; effects of battle, 62; 2d battle, 168-171; ills., 170, 171; Sanitary Commission, 325; reminiscences of battle, 472-474; anecdotes, 464-465.

---- (stream), 52, 53, 54, 55, 60, 61; ill., 167.

Bull's Bay, S. C., 69.

Bull's Gap, Tenn., 524.

Bummers, Sherman's, 423; ill., 430.

Bunker Hill, Mass., 190.

----, W. Va., engagement, 111.

Burials, military, 497.

"Burke, Deaf," C spy, anecdote, 505.

Burnett's Ford, Va., 165.

Burns, John, Gettysburg, 259; ill. of residence, 267.

Burnside, Ambrose E., N maj.-gen., 49; ports., 53, 72; at Bull Run, 55, 57; N. C. expedition, 72; ills., 74, 75, 163; Antietam campaign, 176-179; port. with staff, 191; succeeds McClellan, 193; Fredericksburg campaign, 193-197; on the N. C. coast, 218; superseded by Hooker, 241, 308; Knoxville, 311, 342; in command Dept. of the Ohio, 341; East Tenn., 342, 348, 351; Annapolis, 354; Wilderness, 355, 356; Spottsylvania, 358-361; North Anna, 362, 363; advance on Petersburg, 398, 399.

Burnside's campaign, 191-200.

---- mine, Petersburg, 469.

Burnsville, Miss., 204, 205.

Bussey, Cyrus, N b'v't maj.-gen., Canton, Miss., 342, 343.

Butler, Benjamin F., N maj.-gen., in command 8th Mass. regiment, 24, 28; ports., 43, 66; service in Md., 43; at Big Bethel, 45; in command Fortress Monroe, 45, 49; expedition to Hatteras, 68; at N. O., 90, 95; "woman order," 96, 97; refusal to return slaves, 185; outlawed by Pres. Davis, 235; commands Army of the James, 351, 365; under Grant, 353, 368; advance on Petersburg, 397; Bottom's Bridge, Va., 433; cartoon, 456; anecdote, 457.

Butler, Mo., battle, 231.

Butterfield, Daniel, N maj.-gen., port., 259; Gettysburg, 259, 263.

----, ----, N capt., Romney, 113.

"Butternuts" (Confederate soldiers), 105.

Byrnes, ----, N col., killed, Cold Harbor, 367.

Cabell, William L., C brig.-gen., Devil's Backbone, Ark., 344.

Cadwalader, George, N maj.-gen., at Harper's Ferry, 47.

Cairo, Ill., 73, 76, 99, 122, 223.

----, Tenn., 227.

Caldwell, Charles H. B., N lieut., 10; at N. O., 92.

----, John C., N b'v't maj.-gen., Bristoe Station, 334.

Calhoun, John C., 41.

Calhoun, Ky., 115.

----, N gunboat, Bayou Teche, La., 345.

California, Sanitary Commission, 325.

---- regiment, 71st Pa. inf., 109.

"Call All" (author unknown), 132.

Cameron, Simon, N sec'y of war, 48, 143; authorizes Sanitary Commission, 324.

----, ----, N col., killed, 479.

Camp Douglas, Chicago, Ill., prison camp, ill., 322, 528.

---- Lyon, Mo., 117.

---- Wildcat, Ky., engagement, 73, 114.

Camp life, 495-505; pitching and striking, 498; sports in, 501-502; sutlers, 501; winter in, 496-498; ills., 501.

Campaign of Shiloh, 99-109.

Campbell, John A., C peace com'r, 441.

Campbell's Battery, losses, 483.

Campbell's Station, Tenn., battle, 342.

Camps, arrangement of, 496.

Canada, hostile to the United States, 66.

Canby, Edward R. S., N maj.-gen., Ft. Craig, N. M., 233; port., 527.

Candy, Charles, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 389.

Cane Hill, Ark., battle, 232.

Canfield, Mrs. Hermann, 539.

Canton, Miss., engagement, 342, 343.

Cape Girardeau, Mo., 73, 118; action, 230.

---- Hatteras, N. C., 67, 87, 469.

Capron, Horace, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 530.

Capture of New Orleans, 88-98; ill., 95.

Carlin, William P., N b'v't maj.-gen., Fredericktown, Mo., 118; Perryville, 201.

Carlisle, Pa., occupied by Lee, 250, 251, 252.

---- Barracks, Pa., 27, 28.

Carmody, John, N sergt., 15.

Carnifex Ferry, W. Va., engagement, 113.

Carondelet, N gunboat, Island No. 10, 99.

Carpenter, Daniel, New York draft riots, 285, 286.

Carr, Eugene A., N b'v't maj.-gen., Pea Ridge, 80; Milliken's Bend, La., 240.

----, Joseph B., N b'v't maj.-gen., Robertson's Tavern, Va., 336.

Carroll, Edward, N lt.-col., port., 484.

----, Samuel S., N b'v't maj.-gen., Blooming Gap, 217; Gettysburg, 254, 255; Wilderness, 357; Spottsylvania, 362; port., 367.

Carson, Christopher, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 342.

Carter, James E., N col., Big Creek Gap, Tenn., 225; Blountsville, Tenn., 341.

----, L., Rev., murdered, 315.

----, ----, N capt., Point Pleasant, W. Va., 337.

----, ----, N capt., killed, Winchester, 407.

Carthage, Mo., action at, 41.

Casement, John S., N col., 429.

Casey, Silas, N maj.-gen., port., 152; Peninsular campaign, 144-156.

Cass, Lewis, U. S. sec'y of state, 9, 36.

Cassville, Ga., occupied by Johnston, 385.

Castle Pinckney, S. C., 9, 12, 35.

Catlett's Station, Va., 165, 166.

Catlin, Isaac S., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 368.

Causes of the war, 5, 7; ill., 181.

Cavander, Rev. M., murdered, 315.

Caves as dwellings, Vicksburg, 280-282.

Cayuga, N gunboat, at N. O., 93, 95.

Cedar Creek, Va., battle, 410, 411.

Cedar Mountain, Va., battle, 164, 354.

Cemetery Ridge, Gettysburg, 252, 256; ill., 266, 368.

Centreville, Va., 53, 54, 60, 61; evacuated, 143, 154, 169.

Chain Bridge, D. C., ill., 349.

Chalmers, James R., C brig.-gen., Colliersville, Tenn., 306; Fort Pillow, 320.

Chalmette batteries, N. O., 95.

Chamberlain, Joshua L., N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 254.

Chambersburg, Pa., occupied by Lee, 250, 251; burned by Early, 317, 319, 320, 404, 405.

Champion's Hill, Miss., battle, 275.

Chancellorsville, 241-247.

----, Va., occupied by Hooker, 241; battle, 241-247, 353; _Map_, 243; ills., 244, 246, 358, 470; losses, 477; capture of flag at, ill., 481.

Chapman, Sam., Rev., C cav., Warrenton Junction, 331.

Characteristics, comparative, Northern and Southern soldiers, 502-505.

Charles City Cross Roads, Va., battle (ill., 157), 158.

Charleston, Mo., engagement, 117; engagement, 230.

----, S. C., State flag raised, 9; arsenal seized by rebels, 10; bombarded by Gillmore, N, 18; N operations against, 219; siege, 288-294; ill., 288, 307, 385; bombarded, 435; evacuated, 440; in ruins, ill., 523.

---- Harbor, 5, 10, 12, 18, 35, 71.

----, W. Va., 113.

Charleston and Memphis R. R., 312.

Charlestown, Va., actions, 334.

----, W. Va., 319.

Charlotte, N. C., 43, 307, 441.

Charlottesville, Va., 409.

Chartres, Duc de, ports., 142, 147.

Chase, Salmon P., N sec'y of the treasury, port., 6, 49; management of finances, 415-417; cartoon, 463.

Chatfield, John L., N col., killed, Fort Wagner, 290.

Chattanooga, Tenn., engagement, 226; campaign, 295-304; ill., 304; battle, 305-314, 350, 383, 420, 425.

Chattanooga campaign, The, and battle of Chickamauga, 295-304.

Cheat Mountain, W. Va., skirmish, 114.

Cheat River Valley, W. Va., 45.

Cheatham, Benjamin F., C maj.-gen., port., 427.

Cheraw, S. C., 440.

Cherbourg, France, 371; battle between "Kearsarge" and "Alabama," 372.

Cherokee Indians, 80, 81; Shirley's Ford, Mo., 231; Cane Hill, 232; Tennessee, 317.

Chesapeake Canal, 406, 409.

Chester, Pa., 190.

Chestnut, James, Jr., C brig.-gen., 17; port., 450.

Chewalla, Tenn., 207.

Chicago, Ill., Camp Douglas, ill., 322; Democratic convention, 413, 528.

Chickahominy, Va., battle, 155, 156.

Chickamauga, Ga., 100; battle, 298-303; ills., 300, 308, 405; losses, 477.

Chickasaw, N monitor, Mobile Bay, 391, 392.

---- Indians, 81.

Chipman, Norton P., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 409.

Chivington, John M., N maj., Apache Cañon, 233, 234.

Choctaw Indians, 81.

Christian Commission, 326, 354, 448.

Churchill, T. J., C maj.-gen., surrendered to McClernand, Arkansas Post, 273.

Cincinnati, O., approached by Morgan, 297.

----, N gunboat, sunk, Vicksburg, 281.

"Circus," "Thomas's," 383.

City Hall, New Orleans, La., ill., 96.

City Point, Va., fortified by Butler, 397; ills., 397, 400, 489.

Clark, Charles, C brig.-gen., killed, Baton Rouge, 270.

----, John S., N b'v't brig.-gen. on Banks's staff, 166.

----, William T., N brig.-gen., port., 345.

----, ----, N lieut., 5th Kan. cav., Pine Bluff, Ark., 344.

Clarksburg, Tenn., 229.

Clark's Hollow, W. Va., engagement, 218.

Clay, Cassius M., N maj.-gen., port., 527.

----, Henry, 41.

Clayton, Powell, N brig.-gen., port., 341; Pine Bluff, Ark., 344.

----, ----, N col., Pine Bluff, Tenn., 437.

Cleburne, Patrick R., C maj.-gen., port., 303; Atlanta, 389; killed, 429.

Cleveland, Grover, President of the U. S., Porter relief bill signed, 170.

Cleveland, O., Frémont convention, 412.

Cleves, ----, N capt., killed, Fort Wagner, 290.

Clifton, Ga., 390.

Clingman, Thomas L., C brig.-gen., port., 508.

Clopper, John Y., N maj., Memphis, Mo., 231.

Cloud, ----, N col., Devil's Backbone, Ark., 344.

Cloyd's Mountain, Va., battle, 433.

Cluseret, Gustave P., N col., Harrisonburg, 216.

Cobb, Howell, U. S. sec'y of the treasury, 9; C maj.-gen., port., 177.

----, Thomas R. R., C brig.-gen., killed, Fredericksburg, 196.

Coburn, John, N b'v't brig.-gen., 295; Thompson's Sta., Tenn., 340.

Cochran, ----, N lieut., Fort Wagner, 292.

Cochrane, John, N brig.-gen., nominated for vice-president, 412.

Cocke, Philip St. G., C brig.-gen., at Bull Run, 53, 55.

Cockrell, Francis M., C brig.-gen., port., 392.

Cockspur Island, 185, 220.

Coggswell, Leander W., N col., Spottsylvania, 361.

----, William, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 423.

Cold Harbor, Va., battle, 155, 156; battle, 365-368, 387.

Cole, Charles H., C capt., Lake Erie raid, 528.

----, Henry A., N maj., 433.

Colliersville, Tenn., action, 301.

Collins, Napoleon, N naval comr., port., 370.

Colorado, N frigate, at N. O., 90, 91.

Colored Orphan Asylum, New York, draft riot, 286.

Colored soldiers, employment of, 235-240.

---- troops, Butler, Me., 231; in Confederate service, 235; in National service, 237; in Revolutionary War, 237-240; losses among, 483.

Colquitt, Alfred H., C brig.-gen., port., 445.

Colquitt's salient, Ft. Steadman, 487.

Colston, R. E., C brig.-gen., port., 399.

Colt, Henrietta L., Mrs., port., 537, 540.

Columbia, Ky., captured by Morgan, 297.

----, S. C., prisons, 321; Sherman occupies, 440; burned, 440.

----, Tenn., 226.

Columbus, Ky., 75, 99, 122, 223, 271.

Colville, William, Jr., N col. 1st Minn. inf., charge at Gettysburg, 476.

Colyer, Vincent, Christian Commission, 326.

Commerce, Miss., 348.

Commercial, Cincinnati, O., 211.

Concord, N. H., riot, 317.

Confederate Cruisers, The, 371-375.

---- prisoners, guarding, ill., 522.

---- States of America, founded, 5; seat of government established at Montgomery, Ala., removed to Richmond, Va., 9, 49; ill. of flag, 9; recognized as belligerents by France and England, 63; conscription act, 200.

Congress, members of, captured at Bull Run, 473.

----, N cruiser, destroyed by "Merrimac," 84.

Connecticut _Infantry_, 7th, Tybee Island, 220; 8th, Suffolk, 329; 10th, Fort Wagner, 291; 13th, Irish Bend, 345; 16th, Antietam, 180, Suffolk, 329; 25th, Irish Bend, 347; 2d heavy art'y losses, 478.

Connor, Selden, N brig.-gen., _Article_, 495-505.

Conrad's Ferry, Potomac River, 109.

Contraband of war, ill., 184, 185.

Cooking in camp, 496.

Cotton, C war steamer, Bayou Teche, La., 345.

Cony, Samuel, gov. of Me., port., 18.

Cooke, Jay, financial agent, 416.

----, Philip St. George, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 368.

Cooper, James H., N capt., 158.

----, Samuel, C adj.-gen., 49; port., 318.

Copperheads, 36.

Corcoran, Michael, N brig.-gen., port., 336.

Corinth, Miss., 100; evacuation, 108; battle, 206-209; ill., 209, 308.

Corse, John M., N b'v't maj.-gen., Colliersville, Tenn., 306; Chattanooga, 314; defends Allatoona, 420; port., 422.

Corwin, N gunboat, 154, 234.

Cotton-gin, Eli Whitney's, 5.

Couch, Darius N., N maj.-gen., Fredericksburg, 198; port., 242.

Courier, Charleston, quoted, 435.

----, Louisville, Ky., 63, 182.

Cowan, Dr., C, Munfordville, 115.

Cox, Henry, Rev., 63.

----, Jacob D., N maj.-gen., Great Kanawha, 113; port., 114; Franklin, Tenn., 429.

----, Samuel S., M. C., opposed to negro soldiers, 236.

----, ----, N, Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Crabb, ----, N col., Springfield, Mo., 344.

Craig, James, N brig.-gen., port., 345.

----, ----, N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Crampton's Gap, Md., 176, 179.

Craven, Tunis A. M., N naval capt., killed, Mobile Bay, 391, 393; port., 393, 451.

Crawford, Dr. S. Wiley, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 11; at Sumter, 11, 15; Antietam, 180.

----, Samuel J., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 347; Spottsylvania, 362.

Creigh, David S., 317, 318.

"Crescent City" (New Orleans), 88.

Crew, ----, N capt., killed at Butler, Mo., 231.

Crippen, Benjamin, N sergt., Gettysburg, ill., 258.

Crittenden, George B., C maj.-gen., at Mill Springs, Ky., 73; port., 108.

----, Thomas L., N maj.-gen., port., 108; Murfreesboro', 227; Chickamauga, 298.

----, ----, M. C., 190.

Croatan Sound, N. C., 71, 72.

Crocker, Marcellus M., N brig.-gen., Corinth, 207; Vicksburg campaign, 274, 275.

Crockett's Cove, W. Va., fight, 433.

Cromwell, ----, N maj., killed, Gettysburg, 266.

Crook, George, N maj.-gen., Antietam, 179, 317; defeated by Early, 404, 405; Shenandoah, 409, 410; Cloyd's Mountain, 433; port., 435.

Cross, Edward E., N col., killed, Gettysburg, 254, 477; port., 484.

Cross Keys, Va., action, 216.

---- Lanes, engagement, 113.

Crow's Nest observatory, Petersburg, ill., 469.

Cruft, Charles, N b'v't maj.-gen., Murfreesboro', 212; Richmond, Ky., 225.

Crump's Landing, 100, 101, 107, 108.

Cub Run, Va., 61.

Cullum, George W., N brig.-gen., port., 101.

Culpeper, Va., 163; ill., 164, 193, 249, 250, 353.

---- C. H., Va., 164, 166.

---- Mine Ford, Va., 335, 355.

Cumberland, Md., 320.

----, Army of the, commanded by Rosecrans, 209; _Map_ of operations, 297; commanded by Thomas, 305, 383, 390.

----, N sloop, 29, 83; destroyed by "Merrimac," 84.

---- Ford, Tenn., 225.

---- Gap, Tenn., 114, 227; surrendered, 341.

Cummings Point, Morris Island, 12, 15, 290, 292.

Curtin, Andrew G., gov. of Pa., port., 18.

Curtis, N. Martin, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 439.

----, Samuel R., N maj.-gen., in Mo., 79; Pea Ridge, 80; port., 81.

Cushing, Alonzo H., N lieut., killed, Gettysburg, 259; ill., 263.

----, William B., N comr. "Barney," 348; destroys ram "Albemarle," 435; adventures, 529, 531; port., 531.

Cushing's Battery, losses, 483.

Cushman, Pauline, N spy, port., 506.

Custer, George A., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 79; cavalry superiority, 250; Gettysburg, 268; Robertson's Tavern, 335; port., 356; Hawes's Shop, 363, 364, 405; Shenandoah Valley, 406, 410; Trevilian Station and Louisa C. H., Va., 433; Waynesboro', 442; Sailor's Creek, 446, 451.

Cutler, Lysander, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 398.

Cynthiana, Ky., action, 223.

Dabney, ----, C, 164, 165.

Dada, Hattie A., Miss, port., 533, 540.

Dahlgren, John A., N rear-adm., port., 289, 436; siege of Charleston, 290, 294; Florida, 436, 531.

----, Ulric, N col., killed, Richmond raid, 531.

Daily News, London, Eng., 65.

Dallas, Ga., 385.

Dalton, Ga., 311; occupied by Johnston, 353, 383, 390, 529.

Dana, Charles A., N asst. sec'y of war, port., 65.

----, Napoleon J. T., N maj.-gen., Antietam, 180.

Dandridge, Tenn., fight, 436.

Daniel, Junius, C brig.-gen., killed, Spottsylvania, 362, 451.

Dauphin Island (Mobile Bay), 391.

Davies, Henry E., Jr., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 443.

----, Thomas A., N b'v't maj.-gen., 49; Corinth, 206, 207.

----, W. T., N correspondent, adventures, 520-523.

Davis, Benjamin F., N col., killed, Brandy Sta., Va., 249.

----, Charles Henry, N rear-adm., port., 270; Vicksburg, 270.

----, Clara, Miss, 538.

----, Jefferson, calls for troops, 22; port., 26; early military advantages, 48; at Bull Run, 60, 209; outlaws Butler and proclaims against negro soldiers, 235; letter from Lee after Gettysburg, 268; "Neckties," 375; distrust of Johnston, 383; message to Lincoln, 412; at odds with Gov. Brown, 420, 425; evacuates Richmond, 445; flight and capture, 448; port., 449; refuses to treat for peace, 487.

----, Jefferson C., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 11; at Sumter, 11, 15; ports., 30, 513; Pea Ridge, 80; Chickamauga, 301; Atlanta, 390; (sketch), 513; shoots Gen. William Nelson, 513; ass't com'r for freedmen, 514; in Modoc War, 514, 515.

----, John, N sailor, 72.

----, Joseph R., C brig.-gen., port., 450.

----, S. B., C lieut. and spy, 470-472.

----, ----, N col., Fair Oaks, 148, 150, 176.

Dawes, Rufus R., N b'v't brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 260.

Dawson, ----, C lieut.-col., Ripley, Tenn., 340.

Day, Nicholas W., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 409.

Day-Book, Norfolk, Va., 217.

Day's Gap, Ala., action, 295.

Dearing, James, C brig.-gen., mentioned, 451.

Debutts, ----, C cav., Warrenton Junction, 331.

Decatur, Ala., Sherman escapes capture, 375.

----, Ga., 389.

De Courcey, John F., N col., Tazewell, Tenn., 227.

Deep Bottom, Va., 398, 399.

Deep Creek, Va., fight, 446.

De Fontaine, F. G., C correspondent, 134; _Article_, 505-508.

De Lacey, William, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 362.

Delaware, 1st (N) inf. losses, 481.

---- Indians, ill., 214.

Dent, Frederick T., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 414.

Democratic members of Congress, opposed to negro soldiers, 236.

---- party, in political alliance with the South, 9; sustains the Union, 36; favors slavery, 183; antagonizes Lincoln, 249; opposed to the war, 283, 284, 315; convention, 413.

---- press, denounces emancipation, 185, 189; opposes negro soldiers, 236; opposed to the war, 283, 284; denounces draft in New York, 285.

Denmark, Tenn., 227.

Dennis, Elias S., N b'v't maj.-gen., Britton's Lane, Tenn., 227.

Dennison, William, gov. of Ohio, influence, 448.

De Russy, Gustavus A., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 196.

Deshler, James, C brig.-gen., killed, Chickamauga, 299.

Dispatch, Richmond, Va., 348.

Detonville, Va., fight, 446.

Devens, Charles, N b'v't maj.-gen., Ball's Bluff, 109; port., 110; Cold Harbor, Va., 365.

Devil's Backbone, Ark., action, 344.

---- Den, Gettysburg, ill., 257.

Devin, Thomas C., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 356; port., 530.

Dew, Thomas R., 33.

Dewey, Daniel P., N lieut., killed, Irish Bend, 347.

Diana, C gunboat, Irish Bend, La., 345, 347.

----, N gunboat, Bayou Teche, La., 345.

Dickinson, Daniel S., proposed for vice-president, 412.

Dinwiddie C. H., 441, 443; Sheridan reconnoitering at, ill., 444.

Dispatch, Richmond, Va., 454.

Disraeli, Benjamin, quoted, 269.

District of Columbia, enrollment for defence of Washington, 20.

Divers, Bridget, N pvt. 1st Mich. cav., 470.

Dix, Dorothea L., hospital services, 326.

----, John A., N maj.-gen., U. S. Sec'y of the Treasury, his "shoot him on the spot" order, 10; port., 14; fac-simile of order, 14, 48.

Dixie, Albert Pike, 131; port., 131, 413.

Dodd, David O., C boy spy, 470.

Dog Walk, Ky., action, 225.

Doles, George, C brig.-gen., killed, Cold Harbor, 368, 451.

Donaldsonville, La., destroyed by Farragut, 271, 345.

Doubleday, Abner, N maj.-gen., port., 11; at Sumter, 11, 15; Fredericksburg, 195; Gettysburg, 251-259; port., 254.

Dougherty, ----, N col., 22d Ill., 117.

Douglas, Stephen A., 36.

----, ----, Rev., murdered, 315.

Dover, Tenn., action, 295.

Dow, Neal, N brig.-gen., port., 276.

Draft Riots, The, 283-287.

Drake, J. Madison, N capt., 523; _Article_, 523.

Dranesville, Va., 109; engagement, 113.

Drayton, Percival, N capt., port., 393.

Drayton, Thomas F., C brig.-gen., at Port Royal, 71; port., 72.

Dred Scott decision, 7, 186.

Drury's Bluff, Va., action, 397, 398.

Dry Valley road, Chickamauga, 301.

Duffié, Alfred N., N brig.-gen., port., 257.

Dug Spring, Mo., action at, 41.

Dumont, Ebenezer, N brig.-gen., at Philippi, 45.

Duncan, Johnson K., C brig.-gen., at N. O., 90.

Dunham, C. L., N col., Parker's Cross Roads, Tenn., 229.

Dunker Church, Antietam, 177, 178.

Dunning, ----, N col., Blue's Gap, 216.

Dunn's Bayou, La., action, 382.

Dunton, Jacob, Christian Commission, 326.

DuPont, Samuel F., N rear-adm., 69; port., 71; siege of Charleston, 289, 290, 348.

Durkee, ----, N col., Fair Oaks, 150.

Duryea, Abram, N b'v't maj.-gen., 24; port., 35; at Big Bethel, 45.

Duryea's Zouaves, 5th N. Y., 24; at Big Bethel, 45; losses, 479.

Dustin, Daniel, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 423.

Dutch Gap, Va., 397.

Dutton's Hill, Ky., action, 339.

Duval, Isaac H., N b'v't maj.-gen., Winchester, Va., 407.

Dwight, William, N brig.-gen., ill., 343.

Dye, ----, N, killed, Hawes's Shop, Va., 365.

Eads, James B., 392.

Earle, C. W., N lieut., Chickamauga, 303.

Early, Jubal A., C lieut.-gen., 49, port., 60; Bull Run, 53, 59; burning of Chambersburg, 319, 320; Robertson's Tavern, Va., 336; Spottsylvania, 359; Bethesda Church, 365; Cold Harbor, 365; threatens Washington, 402-404; Shenandoah Valley, 402, 405-411; Waynesboro', 442.

Eaton, Amos B., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 414.

Edenton, N. C., 72.

Edmonds, Emma, Miss, N spy and nurse, adventures, 511, 512.

Edson, Sarah P., Miss, 538.

Edward's Ferry, Va., 109; engagement, 111, 250, 268.

Edwards Station, Miss., 275.

Effects of battle of Bull Run, 62-66.

Egan, Thomas W., N b'v't brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 265.

Eggleston, ----, N corp., Gettysburg, 260.

"Egypt" (Southwest Georgia), 485.

Elizabeth City, N. C., 72.

Ellet, Charles Rivers, N col., port., 274.

Elliott, Melcenia, Miss, 538.

----, Stephen, Jr., C brig.-gen., port., 445.

Ellis, A. Van Horn, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 261; killed, Gettysburg, 266.

----, Daniel, N guide, 521.

----, John W., gov. N. C., 43.

Ellis, N tugboat, stranded, 529.

Ellsworth Avengers, 44th N. Y. inf., losses, 479.

Ellsworth, Elmer E., N col., port., 25, 484; killed, 25, 451.

----, ----, Morgan's raid, 532.

Ely's Ford, Va., 335, 355.

Elzey Arnold, C maj.-gen., port., 508.

Emancipation, 181-191.

---- Proclamation, 187, 189, 412, 413.

Emmet, ----, N lieut., Meagher's staff, Fredericksburg, 199.

Emmitsburg Road, Gettysburg, 263.

Emory, William H., N maj.-gen., Sabine Cross Roads, 378; Pleasant Hill, 378; port., 382.

Employment of colored soldiers, 235-240.

England recognizes Confederates as belligerents, 63; sympathy with the South, 65, 269; sympathy with the Union, 189; violation of neutrality laws, 372-375.

Enquirer, Richmond, Va., 454.

Erben, Henry, N lieut.-comr., port., 370.

Ericsson, John, N capt., port., 84.

Ericsson, N ironclad ("Monitor"), 85.

Essex, U. S. vessel, 76, 90.

----, N gunboat, Ft. Henry, 76, 393.

Estrella, N gunboat, Bayou Teche, La., 345.

Etheridge, Annie, N dau. of regt., 470.

Evans, J. J., N capt., Mt. Sterling, 223.

----, Nathan G., C brig.-gen., at Bull Run, 53, 55; Secessionville, 219; port., 281, 461.

----, ----, N aid to Force, Atlanta, 389.

Evening Post, New York, 128.

Everett, Edward, speech at Gettysburg, 269.

Ewell, Richard S., C lieut.-gen., 49; at Bull Run, 53; Peninsular campaign, 154; Groveton, 167; 2d Bull Run, 173; Cross Keys, 216; Culpeper, 249; Shenandoah Valley, 250; Gettysburg, 251-256; port., 265; Wilderness, 354; Spottsylvania, 362, 368; captured, Sailor's Creek, Va., 446; foresees the end, 448, 453.

Ewing, Charles T., N brig.-gen., port., 435.

----, Hugh, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 307.

----, Thomas, 519.

----, Thomas, Jr., N b'v't maj.-gen., 515.

Examiner, Richmond, Va., 33; quoted, 431.

Excelsior Brigade, Gettysburg, 265; Manassas Gap, Va., 333.

Fagan, James F., C maj.-gen., port., 341.

Fair Gardens, Tenn., fight, 436.

Fair Oaks, Va., battle, 146; ill., 154, 390, 470.

Fairchild, ----, N col., Atlanta, 389.

Fairfax, Donald M., N rear-adm., port., 290.

Fairfax C. H., Va., 169; raided by Mosby, 331.

Fairmont, W. Va., engagement, 337.

Fales, Almira, Mrs., 533, 538.

Falling Waters, Va., engagement, 111.

Falmouth, Va., 193.

Farley, Porter, N adjt., Gettysburg, 260.

Farmville, Va., fight, 446.

Farnam, Noah L., N col., 24.

Farnsworth, Elon J., N brig.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 259; port., 261, 268.

Farnum, ----, N col., Manassas Gap, 333.

Farragut, David G., rear-adm., 33; at N. O., 90-97; port., 93, 221; Vicksburg, 270-273; Port Hudson, 276, 350, 375; port., 391; Mobile Bay, 391-395, 451.

Farron, C., N naval eng., Mobile Bay, 393.

Faunce, John, N naval capt., port., 370.

Fayal, Azores, "Alabama," 371.

Fayetteville, Ark., engagement, 344.

----, N. C., 43, 440-441; arsenal destroyed, 517.

----, W. Va., engagement, 218, 339.

Fenton, William M., N col., Secessionville, 219; Wilmington Island, 221, 223.

Fernandina, Fla., 69.

Ferrero, Edward, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 339; Knoxville, 342.

Final Battles, The, 439-447.

Finegan, Joseph, C brig.-gen., wounded, Cold Harbor, 368; Olustee, Fla., 436.

Finley, Clement A., N b'v't brig.-gen., attitude toward Sanitary Commission, 324.

First U. S. Flag raised in Richmond after the War, The, 453-454.

First Union Victories, 66-82.

Fisher, Joseph W., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 429.

Fisher's Hill, Va., 406; battle, 409.

Fishing Creek, Ky., battle, 73.

Fisk, Clinton B., N b'v't maj.-gen., 41.

Fitzgerald, Louis, N lieut.-col., 24.

----, ----, arrested, 316.

Fitz Hugh, Norman R., C maj., captured, 164.

Fitzhugh's Woods, Ark., fight, 437.

Five Forks, Va., battle, 443; Sheridan reconnoitering at, ill., 444.

Fleetwood, Va., battle, 249.

Fletcher, Thomas C., gov. of Md., port., 18.

Flint, W. H., N capt., killed, 331.

Florence, S. C., prison camps, 321, 415.

Florida secedes, 9.

----, C cruiser, captured, Bahia, Brazil, 372.

Floyd, John B., U. S. sec'y of war, 9, 10, 20, 48; C brig.-gen., Fort Donelson, 77, 79; port., 80; W. Va., 113, 114; explains flight from Donelson, anecdote, 503.

Flusser, Charles W., N comr., killed, 435.

Flynn, ----, N capt., Libby Prison, 348, 349.

Fogg, Mrs. Isabella, 539.

Folly Island, Charleston Harbor, 290.

Foote, Andrew H., N rear-adm., Ft. Henry, 76; Island No. 10, 99; port., 100.

Foraging, 499, 504.

Foraker, Joseph B., N capt., port., 429.

Force, Manning F., N b'v't maj.-gen., Vicksburg campaign, 277; quoted, 316; Bald Hill, Atlanta, 389; port., 390.

Ford's Theatre, Washington, D. C., President Lincoln assassinated, 449.

Foreign relations, 65, 66, 371.

Forest City, Minn., attacked by Indians, 234.

---- Queen, N vessel, destroyed, 348.

---- Rose, N gunboat, Waterproof, La., 437.

Forman, James B., N col., killed, Stone River, 481.

Forrest, Jesse, C col., raid, 532.

----, Nathan B., C lieut.-gen., Fort Donelson, 79; Sacramento, 115; Lexington, 225; Murfreesboro', 226; La Vergne, 227; Trenton, Tenn., 229; Parker's Cross Roads, Tenn., 229; destroys railroads, 271; Dover, 295; Fort Pillow, 320; Fort Donelson, 340; defeats Smith, 375; port., 528; raid, 532.

----, W. H., C capt., raid, 532.

Forsyth, George A., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 409.

Fort Barrancas, Fla., 35.

---- Bartow, N. C., 72.

---- Beauregard, S. C., 71, 292.

---- Butler, La., 382.

---- Clark, N. C., ill., 68, 69.

---- Columbus, N. Y., Beall executed, 528.

---- Craig, N. M., battle, 233.

---- Darling, Va., 454.

---- De Russy, La., captured, 375.

---- Donelson, Tenn., 75, 76; attack on, 77; surrender of, 79; ill., 82, 295; attacked by Wheeler and Forrest, 340.

---- Fisher, bomb-proof, ill., 439; captured, 441.

---- Gaines, Ala., 391.

---- Gregg, Petersburg, Va., 445; defence of, ill., 446.

---- Halleck, Idaho, engagement, 348.

---- Hamilton, New York Harbor, 17.

---- Hatteras, N. C., 68; ill., 69.

---- Henry, Tenn., 75; surrender of, 76, 77.

---- Hindman, Ark., captured by McClernand, 272, 273.

---- Jackson, La., 35, 90, 93; ill., 94, 95, 221.

---- Johnson, Charleston Harbor, 11.

---- King, Tenn., 312.

---- Lincoln, colored inf., ill., 239.

---- McAllister, Ga., 348; captured, 423, 514.

---- McRae, Fla., 35.

---- Monroe, Va., commanded by Butler, 45, 49; ill., 66, 68, 74, 143, 162, 163, 185, 349, 368, 397; peace conference, 441; President Davis a prisoner, 448.

---- Morgan, Ala., 35, 391-393.

---- Moultrie, S. C., cut, 7; abandoned by Anderson, seized by rebels, 10, 12, 15, 35, 229, 289, 292.

---- Negley, Tenn., 312.

---- Pickens, Fla., 10; ill., 415; landing reinforcements at, ill., 500.

---- Pillow, Tenn., 226, 307; captured, 320.

---- Pulaski, Ga., 25, 185, 220; bombarded, 221; ill., 222, 289.

---- Ridgley, Minn., besieged by Indians, 234.

---- St. Philip, La., 35, 90, 93; ill., 94, 95, 221.

---- Smith, Ark., occupied by Blunt, 344.

---- Steadman, attack on, 485, 487; positions at, diagram, 487; obstructions, 488; taken, 489.

---- Stevens, D. C., action, 403, 404.

---- Sumter, S. C., ills., 4, 7; occupied by Anderson, 11; preparations for defence, 12; bombarded, 15; surrendered and evacuated, 17; destroyed by Gillmore, 18, 289-294; recapture celebrated, 18, 35.

---- Wagner, S. C., 24; colored troops, 237, 239; assaulted, 290-294; Sanitary Commission, 325.

---- Walker, S. C., ill., 70, 71.

---- Warren, Mass., 63.

---- Whitworth, Petersburg, Va., 445.

---- Wood, Tenn., 312, 313.

Forty Thieves, 316.

Foster, Abby Kelly, 18.

----, Emery, N maj., Warrensburg, Mo., 230.

----, John G., N maj.-gen., ports., 11, 73; at Sumter, 11; N. C. expedition, 72; advance on Petersburg, 398; port., 401; in command of Savannah, 439.

----, Robert S., N b'v't maj.-gen., port. with staff, 334.

----, Stephen Collins, "Old folks at home," 134; port., 134.

----, ----, N maj., Lone Jack, Mo., 231.

Fox, Gustavus V., N capt., port., 11, 15.

Fox's, Col. William F., "Three Hundred Fighting Regiments," quoted, 479.

---- "Regimental Losses in the American Civil War," credited, 485.

France, war with Austria, 23; recognizes Confederates as belligerents, 63; unfriendly to the United States, 66.

Franco-German war, losses in, 476.

Franklin, William B., N maj.-gen., port., 49; at Bull Run, 55, 57; Peninsular campaign, 141-158; port., 150; 2d Bull Run, 169; Antietam campaign, 176-179; Burnside's campaign, 193, 195; Sabine Cross Roads, 377; Pleasant Hill, 379.

Franklin, La., engagement, 345.

----, Tenn., engagement, 295, 340, 341; battle, _Map_, 426, 427, 429, 430, 510.

Frazier's Farm, Va., 159.

Frederick, Md., 175, 250, 268.

Fredericksburg, Va., 144, 150; ill., 193; battle, 195-200; taken by Sedgwick, 241, 242, 243, 362, 363, 477.

Fredericktown, Mo., engagement, 118.

Free Soil party, 9.

Fremantle, Arthur James, British army, Gettysburg incident, 268.

Frémont, John C., N maj.-gen., candidate for presidency, 9; commands in Missouri, 79, 118; Peninsular campaign, 154, 163; attempts at emancipation, 182, 185; Shenandoah Valley, 216, 217; port., 218; nominated for president, 412; withdraws, 413; arraigns administration, 415.

Frémont's Body Guard, Springfield, Mo., 118-121.

French, William H., N maj.-gen., Fredericksburg, 195-198, 250; Rappahannock Sta., 334, 335; Robertson's Tavern, 336; port., 339.

Frontier, Army of, 231.

Fry, Jacob, N col., Trenton, Tenn., 229.

----, James B., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 530.

----, Speed S., N brig.-gen., 73; port., 77.

----, ----, C maj., Vicksburg, 282.

----, ----, murdered, 316.

Fugitive Slave Law, 185.

Fuller, Charles D., N (female) pvt. 46th Pa. inf., 470.

----, John W., N b'v't maj.-gen., division rallying at Atlanta, ill., 516.

Gadsden, Ala., 295.

Gaines's Mill, Va., Battle, 155, 156.

Gainesville, Va., 53, 54.

Gallatin, Tenn., action, 227.

Galveston, Texas, captured by Magruder, 348; "Hatteras" sunk, 372.

Gamble, Hamilton R., N gov. of Mo., 41.

Gantt, E. W., C maj.-gen., port., 146.

Gardner, John L., N b'v't brig.-gen., 10.

----, ----, N capt., Edward's Ferry, 111.

----, ----, N lieut., Butler, Mo., 231.

Garfield, James A., N maj.-gen., in Ky., 73; port., 79; Pound Gap, 223; Chickamauga, 299, 301.

Garland, Samuel, Jr., C brig.-gen., killed at South Mountain, 176.

Garnett, Richard B., C brig.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 259, 451.

----, Robert S., C brig.-gen., 49; killed in W. Va., 45.

Garrett, ----, C col., Plymouth, N. C., 218, 219.

Garrison, William Lloyd, 18; port., 190.

Gary, M. W., C maj.-gen., 462; port., 508.

Gazette, Cincinnati, O., 201; correspondent taken prisoner, 520.

Geary, John W., N b'v't maj.-gen., Bolivar Heights, 111; port., 306; Chattanooga, 308, 313; occupies Savannah, 423.

Geible, ----, N sergt., killed, Gettysburg, 255.

General Lyon, N transport, burned, 469.

General officers killed, 484, 485.

Geneva, Switzerland, court of arbitration, 375.

George, Mrs. E. E., 540.

Georgetown, D. C., 403.

----, Ky., Morgan's raid, 532.

Georgia secedes, 9; 50th inf., Antietam, 180; 13th inf., Wilmington Island, 223; hopes of her secession from the Confederacy, 420; militia recalled by Gov. Brown, 420; spirit of tolerance in, 423; legislative peace resolutions, 431.

---- regimental losses, 10th, 18th, 5th, 37th, 9th, 15th, 21st, 17th, 44th inf., 484.

----, C cruiser, 372.

Georgia Central R. R., destroyed, 422.

Gerdes, F. H., lieut. U. S. Coast Survey, 91.

Germania Ford, Va., 335, 336, 355, 357.

Germans in Mo. loyal to the Union, 117.

Germantown, Tenn., 306.

----, Va., 169.

Getty, George W., N b'v't maj.-gen., Suffolk, Va., 331; Wilderness, 457; Cedar Creek, 411.

Gettysburg, 249-269.

----, Pa., approached by Lee, 250; battle, 251-269; _Map_, 251; ills., 260, 264, 266, 351; compared with Waterloo, 259; cemetery dedicated, 269; Sanitary Commission, 327, 361, 368, 387; incident of battle, 465; Lee's retreat, ill., 467; charge of 1st Minn. inf. compared with Balaklava, 476; losses at battle, 259, 477.

Gibbon, John, N maj.-gen., South Mountain, 176; port., 180; Fredericksburg, 195; port., 255; Gettysburg, 259; advance on Petersburg, 400.

Gibbons, Mrs. A. H., 538.

----, James Sloane, "We are coming, Father Abraham," 128.

Gibbs, Alfred, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 406.

Gibraltar, "Sumter" abandoned, 372.

Gibson, Horatio G., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 347.

----, Randall Lee, C brig.-gen., port., 508.

----, ----, C aide, 164.

Gilbert, Charles C., N brig.-gen., Perryville, 201.

Gilchrist, ----, C, 32.

Gill, George W., b'v't brig.-gen., port., 167.

Gillis, ----, N capt., 15.

Gillmore, Quincy A., N maj.-gen., destroys Sumter, 18; Ft. Pulaski, 220, 221; port., 289; siege of Charleston, 290-294; Somerset, Ky., 339, 340.

Gilmer, Jeremy F., C maj.-gen., port., 314.

Gilmore, James R., "Edmund Kirke," peace mission, 412.

----, Patrick S., "When Johnny comes marching home," 136.

Gilson, Helen L., hospital services and death, 327.

Gist, S. R., C brig.-gen., killed, 430.

Gladden, Adley H., C brig.-gen., killed at Shiloh, 101.

Gladstone, William E., favors the Confederacy, 269.

Glazier, Willard, N capt., siege of Charleston, 204.

Glendale, Va., 159.

Godwin, A. C., C brig.-gen., killed, Winchester, 407.

Goff, Nathan, Jr., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 440.

Goldsboro' N. C., 441.

Goldsborough, Louis M., N rear-adm., N. C. expedition, 72; port., 73.

Gooding, Michael, N col., Perryville, 201.

----, Oliver P., N b'v't maj.-gen., Bayou Teche, La., 347, 348.

Goodyear. W., N sergt., Millen, Ga., prison, 415.

Goose Creek, Va., ill., 410.

Gordon, George H., N b'v't maj.-gen., ports., 167, 389.

----, John B., C lieut.-gen., 403; Cedar Creek, Va., 411; ports., 445, 487; Gettysburg anecdote, 465-467; _Article_, 485-494; Petersburg, 485; advises Lee to surrender, 486, 493; attacks Ft. Steadman and Hare's Hill, 487; captures the fort, 489; abandons it, 491; gives up Union spies to Sheridan, 493; refuses to surrender to Sheridan, 493; prevents rifleman from shooting Sheridan, 493.

----, Mrs. John B., Petersburg, 488.

Gordonsville, Va., 163, 164, 193, 433.

Gorman, Willis A., N brig.-gen., port., 530.

Gosport Navy Yard, destruction of ships, 28, 29; cut, 36.

Goss, William, N pvt., Powell's River bridge Tenn., 437.

Govan, Daniel C., C brig.-gen., captured, Atlanta, 390.

Governor's Island, New York Harbor, 14.

"Grafted into the Army," Henry C. Work, 137.

Graham, Charles K., N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 265; port., 530.

Granberry, H. B., C brig.-gen., killed, 430.

Grand Ecore, La., 379, 381.

---- Gulf, Miss., action, 274.

Granger, Gordon, N maj.-gen., attack on Van Dorn, 295; Chickamauga, 299-302; port., 301; Knoxville, 311; Franklin, Tenn., 341; Mobile, 391.

----, Moses M., N col., Cedar Creek, Va., 411.

Grant, Alfred, N capt., 523.

----, Ulysses S., N gen., ports., 31, 107, 490; Cairo, 73; Ft. Henry, 75; Ft. Donelson, 76-79; Pittsburg Landing, 100; Shiloh, 101-108; Belmont, 122; review of Porter case, 170; comment on battle of Iuka, 204; Jackson, 206; comment on battle of Corinth, 207; Vicksburg campaign, 270-279, 295; in command military division of the Mississippi, 305; Chattanooga, 305-309; Christian Commission, 326, 342, 350; appointed lieut.-gen., 351; Wilderness, 354-357; port., 356; Spottsylvania, 358-362; North Anna, 362; Cold Harbor, 365, 368, 369; escapes capture, 375; plans for Sherman's Atlanta campaign, 383, 387; plans capture of Mobile, 391; advance on Petersburg, 397-400; defence of Washington, 402-404; sends Sheridan to the Shenandoah, 405, 406; despatch to Sheridan after Winchester, 409; final campaign against Lee, 442-446, 451; "pie order," 459; col. of 21st Ill. inf., 483, 491.

Grapevine bridge, 147; ill., 160.

Gravelly Run, Va., 443.

Graves, E. E., N col., 105; Richmond, 454.

Great Kanawha Valley campaign, 113.

Greble, John T., N lieut., killed at Big Bethel, 45.

----, Mrs. Edwin, 539.

Greeley, Horace, port., 186; correspondence with President Lincoln, 186; peace conference, 412; gives bail for Davis, 448; cartoon, 462.

Green, Thomas, C brig.-gen., killed, Pleasant Hill, 379.

----, ----, N ord.-sergt., Plymouth, N. C., 218, 219.

Green River, 115.

Greene, Samuel D., N comr., 85; port., 87.

----, W. N., N capt., at Chancellorsville, ill., 481.

Greencastle, Pa., 176.

Gregg, David McM., N b'v't maj.-gen., Brandy Sta., Va., 249; Gettysburg, 267; Robertson's Tavern, Va., 335; Hawes's Shop, 363; port., 435.

----, John Irvin, N b'v't maj.-gen., Middleburg, Va., 267; Gettysburg, 268; port., 356.

----, Maxcy, C brig.-gen., Antietam, 180; killed, Fredericksburg, 196.

Gresham, Walter Q., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 386.

Grierson, Benjamin H., N maj.-gen., cavalry raid, 274.

Griffin, Charles, N maj.-gen., port., 57; at Bull Run, 55, 57, 59.

----, Simon G., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 401.

Grose, William, N b'v't maj.-gen., Murfreesboro', 212; Chattanooga, 308.

Grover, Cuvier, N b'v't maj.-gen., 2d Bull Run, 172, 173; Irish Bend, La., 345; port., 378.

Groveton, Va., battle, 167-168.

Guenther, Francis L., N lieut., Murfreesboro', 210, 212.

Guerilla warfare, 79, 215, 223, 227-231, 316, 331, 345.

Guinea Station, Va., 362.

Gulf, Dept. of the, N, 185.

Gurowski, Adam, Polish count, criticisms, 236, 237.

Guyandotte, W. Va., 113.

Hagerstown, Md., 176, 177.

Haines, Alanson A., N chap., Spottsylvania, 361.

----, Thomas, N capt., Harrisonburg, 216.

Haines's Bluff, Miss., 271, 272, 273, 275.

"Hairpins," "Sherman's," 375.

Hall, A. S., N col., Milton, Tenn., 295; Statesville and Vaught's Hill, Tenn., 340, 341.

----, Charles S., "John Brown's Body," 136.

----, Maria M. C., Miss, 538.

----, Norman J., N col., at Sumter, 11.

----, R. H., capt. U. S. art'y, Ft. Craig, N. M., 233.

----, Susan E., Miss, 540.

----, ----, N surg., Spottsylvania, 361.

Halleck, Henry W., N maj.-gen., commands in Mo., 73, 75; port., 79; supersedes Frémont, 79; Corinth, 108; gen.-in-chief, 163, 169, 175, 197; plans for East Tenn., 203, 250, 270, 271; despatch to Rosecrans, 305; letter to Grant, 307, 308, 362, 368; despatch to Grant, 405.

Halltown, Va., 111; occupied by Sheridan, 406.

Hamburg, S. C., 322.

Hamilton, Andrew J., N brig.-gen., port., 315; quoted, 315.

----, Charles S., N maj.-gen., Iuka, 203, 204; Corinth, 206, 207.

----, Schuyler, N maj.-gen., Island No. 10, 99; port., 101.

----, William, N naval lieut., Mobile Bay, 392.

Hamlin, Hannibal, Vice.-Pres. of the U. S., 316, 412.

Hammersley, L. C., quoted, 517.

Hammond, William A., N brig.-gen., port., 414.

Hampton, Frank, C lieut.-col., killed, Brandy Sta., Va., 249.

----, Wade, C lieut.-gen., Gettysburg, 259; opposes Sherman in S. C., 440; port., 445, 462, 531.

Hampton Roads, Va., 29, 68, 69, 72; "Monitor" and "Merrimac," 83-87, 91; "Florida" sunk, 372.

Hancock, Winfield S., N maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 143; port., 173; Fredericksburg, 195-199; Gettysburg, 252-265; port., 255; Wilderness, 354-356; Spottsylvania, 358-361; North Anna, 362, 363; Cold Harbor, 365; advance on Petersburg, 397-400, 451; Gettysburg, 476; Winchester, 486; port., 532.

----, ----, N spy, anecdote, 509.

Hankinson's Ferry, Miss., engagement, 274.

Hanover, Pa., engagement, 268.

---- Junction, Va., 144, 362, 363.

---- Old Church, Va., engagement, 151.

Hanson, Roger W., C brig.-gen., killed, Murfreesboro', 211.

Hardee, William J., C lieut.-gen., Corinth, 100; Shiloh, 103; port., 105; Pine Mountain, 386; evacuates Savannah, 423; evacuates Charleston, 440; Averysboro', 441.

"Hardee's Tactics," 23, 456.

Harding, Abner C., N brig.-gen., Dover, 295; Ft. Donelson, 340.

Hare's Hill, battle (Ft. Steadman), 485, 487.

Harker, Charles G., N brig.-gen., killed, Kenesaw Mountain, 387.

Harland, Edward, N brig.-gen., Suffolk, Va., 331.

Harney, William S., N b'v't maj.-gen., 28; port., 29, 39, 49.

Harper, Kenton, C maj.-gen., Va. militia, 28.

Harper's Ferry, Va., U. S. arsenal seized by John Brown, 7; ill., 13; destroyed by N garrison, 27; ill., 36; operations about, 47; destroyed and deserted by C, 47, 111; _Map_ of vicinity, 141; ill., 174; Antietam campaign, 175-180, 192, 250, 403, 406; anecdote, 462.

Harriet Lane, N gunboat, Ft. Sumter, 15; Galveston, 348.

Harris, "Coon," N spy, executed, 506.

----, Elisha, Sanitary Commission, 324, 325.

----, Isham G., gov. Tenn., 44, 227.

----, Matthias, N chap., 12, 18.

----, Mrs. John, 533.

Harrisburg, Pa., approached by Lee, 250.

Harrison, Benjamin, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 423.

----, M. La Rue, N b'v't brig.-gen., Fayetteville, Ark., 344.

Harrisonburg, Va., action, 216; occupied by Sheridan, 409.

Harrison's Island, Potomac River, 109.

---- Landing, Va., 160, 163.

Harrodsburg, Ky., 201.

Harrold, Daniel C., reward offered for arrest, 510.

"Harry Birch," N merchantman, ill., 76.

Harsen, Dr., Sanitary Commission, 324.

Hart, Orson H., N brig.-gen., port., 150.

----, Peter, 17, 18.

Hartford, N cruiser, New Orleans, 90-93; Mobile Bay, 391-395; ill., 394.

Hartranft, John F., N b'v't maj.-gen., Antietam, 179.

Hartsuff, George L., N maj.-gen., port., 297.

Hartsville, Mo., engagement, 344, 345.

----, Tenn., captured by Morgan, 229.

Harvey, Cordelia P., Mrs., port., 534, 536.

Hatch, Edward, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 337; Wyatt's, Miss., 343.

----, John P., N b'v't maj.-gen., 163.

Hatteras, Cape, "General Lyon" burned near, 469.

----, N steamer, sunk by "Alabama," 372.

---- Inlet, N. C., 67, 72.

Haupt, Hermann, N brig.-gen., port., 167.

Havana, Cuba, 63.

Hawes's Shop, Va., action, 363, 364.

Hawkins, Morton L., N lieut., Winchester, Va., 407.

----, Rush C., N b'v't brig.-gen., N. C. expedition, 72.

Hawkins's Zouaves, 72, 218.

Hawley, Harriet F., Mrs., 538.

Haxall's Landing, Va., 159, 368.

Hayes, Rutherford B., N b'v't maj.-gen., South Mountain, 176; Clark's Hollow, 218; port., 219; Winchester, 407; Cedar Creek, 411, 481.

Hayne, Paul Hamilton, "The Black Flag," 133.

Hays, Alexander, N b'v't maj.-gen., Bristoe Sta., Va., 334; Robertson's Tavern, Va., 336; killed, Wilderness, 357; port., 361.

----, Harry T., C brig.-gen., Antietam, 180; port., 363.

----, William, N brig.-gen., port., 401.

Hazel Grove, Chancellorsville, 242.

---- Run, Fredericksburg, 199.

Hazen, William B., N maj.-gen., ports., 30, 514; Murfreesboro', 212; Fort McAllister, Ga., 423, 513, 514; (sketch), 514.

Hazlett, Charles E., N lieut., killed, Gettysburg, 254, 260, 261.

Heath, Herman H., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 401.

Heg, Hans C., N col., killed, Chickamauga, 299.

Heintzelman, Samuel P., N maj.-gen., port., 49; Bull Run, 54, 55; Peninsular campaign, 143; Pope's campaign, 168; port., 262.

Helena, Ark., engagement, 344.

Helm, Benjamin H., C brig.-gen., killed, Chickamauga, 299.

Helper, Hinton R., "Impending crisis," 182.

Henry, Guy V., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 436.

Henry house, Bull Run, 57; ills., 58, 60, 165.

Hensie, ----, murdered, 316.

Herbert, ----, C brig.-gen., Iuka, 206.

Herron, Francis J., N maj.-gen., Prairie Grove, Ark., 233.

Heth, Henry, C maj.-gen., port., 399; defence of Petersburg, 400.

Hickman, Ky., 226.

Hicks, Thomas H., gov. Md., 43.

Higginson, Thomas W., N col., writes on negro soldiers, 239.

Hill, Ambrose P., C lieut.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 154-162; port., 158; Antietam campaign, 176-179; Chancellorsville, 242; Culpeper, 249; Shenandoah Valley, 250; Bristoe Sta., Va., 334; Wilderness, 354; defence of Petersburg, 398, 400; killed, 445, 451, 491, 492.

----, Daniel H., C lieut.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 154-159; port., 158; Antietam campaign, 176.

----, Joshua, 425.

----, Sylvester G., N b'v't brig.-gen., killed, 430.

Hillier, case of, 315.

Hilton Head, S. C., 69; ill., 70, 71, 185, 219.

Hindman, Thomas C., C maj.-gen., Shiloh, 101; Prairie Grove, 233.

Hines, Thomas A., C capt., imprisoned, 526.

Hinks, Edward W., N b'v't maj.-gen., 25; after Ball's Bluff, 110; port., 114; advance on Petersburg, 397.

Hitching. J. H., N brig.-gen., killed, Cedar Creek, Va., 410.

Hodgesville, Ky., action, 115.

Hodge's Mills, N. C., 218.

Hoff, H. K., N rear-adm., port., 370.

Hogg, ----, N lieut.-col., killed, Bolivar, Tenn., 227.

Hoke, Robert F., C maj.-gen., Plymouth, N. C., 317, 433-434.

Holden, William W., peace candidate, N. C., 420.

Hollins, George N., C commodore, 99.

Holly Springs, Miss., captured by Van Dorn, 271.

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, comment on Brownell, 395; at Antietam, 478.

----, Theophilus H., C lieut.-gen., at Bull Run, 53; Helena, Ark., 344.

----, ----, N capt., mangled by hounds, 322.

Holt, Joseph, N sec'y of war, 14, 20, 48.

Home, Jessie, Miss, 538.

Homestead bill, vetoed by Buchanan, 183.

Hood, John B., C gen., Antietam, 177; Gettysburg, 252, 254; Chickamauga, 303; port., 383; Atlanta campaign, 385-390; supersedes Johnston, 387; protests to Sherman, 419; pursued by Sherman, 420; Nashville, 427; Franklin, Tenn., 427-430; Nashville, 430; compared with Logan, 517.

Hooker, Joseph, N maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 143; port., 150; Groveton, 168; 2d Bull Run, 169; Antietam campaign, 176-180; Burnside's campaign, 193-196; port., 241; supersedes Burnside, 241; Chancellorsville, 241-243; Culpeper, 249; relieved of command, 250, 263; in Tenn., 305; Lookout Mountain, 308, 309, 313, 331, 332, 358; Resaca, Ga., 385; near Marietta, 386; Peach Tree Creek, 387; retired, 390; cartoon, 459.

Horseshoe Ridge, Chickamauga, 299.

Hospital corps, ambulance drill, ill., 497.

Hough, Daniel, N artilleryman, 17.

Hovey, Alvin P., N b'v't maj.-gen., Champion's Hill, Miss., 275.

Howard, Henry W. B., _Articles_, 455-459, 507-512.

----, Oliver O., N maj.-gen., 49; ports., 30, 57, 513; at Bull Run, 55, 57; Chancellorsville, 241-245; Gettysburg, 251, 252; Chattanooga, 314; Atlanta, 390; commands Army of the Tenn., 390; in march to the sea, 422-430; _Article_, 513-519.

Howe, Mrs. Julia Ward, "Battle Hymn of the Republic," 127.

Howland, Mrs. Joseph, 537.

----, Mrs. Robert S., 537.

Hubbard, ----, N maj., Roan's Tanyard, Mo., 230.

Hudson, Mo., 122.

Huey, Pennock, N b'v't brig.-gen., Chancellorsville, 242.

Huger, Benjamin, C maj.-gen., 49; Fair Oaks, 147, 150; port., 155.

Hughes, John, archbishop, Roman Catholic Church, 36.

----, ----, C guerilla, killed at Independence, Mo., 231.

Humes, Thomas W., Rev., quoted, 316.

Humonsville, Mo., engagement, 230.

Humorous Incidents of the War, 455-459.

Humphreys, Andrew A., N maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 252-263, 445.

Hunt, Henry J., N b'v't maj.-gen., Fredericksburg, 195; Gettysburg, 257, 263, 265; port., 262.

----, Lewis C., N brig.-gen., port., 159.

Hunter, Andrew, port., 183; arrested and residence burned, 319.

----, David, N maj.-gen., port., 49; at Bull Run, 54, 55, 163; attempts at emancipation, 182, 185; Ft. Pulaski, 221; depredations in Shenandoah Valley, 317-319, 368, 402; succeeded by Sheridan, 405, 406.

----, D. C., C col., Charleston, Mo., 117.

----, R. M. T., C peace com'r, 441.

Huntersville, Va., raided, 114.

Hunton, Eppa, C brig.-gen., port., 508.

Huntsville, Ala., peace meeting, 431.

----, Mo., 230.

Hurlbut, Stephen A., N maj.-gen., Shiloh, 100; port., 105; Corinth, 207-209; Vicksburg campaign, 273, 308; Memphis, 340; Meridian, 375, 532.

Husband, Mary M., Mrs., port., 536, 537.

Hutchinson family, singers, 182.

Hutchinson, Minn., attacked by Indians, 234.

Illinois _Infantry_, 11th, Lexington, 225; 17th, Frederickstown, 118; 19th, Chattanooga, 314; 20th, Vicksburg, 277, Atlanta, 389; 22d, Charleston, 117; 23d, Lexington, 118; 30th, Vicksburg, 279, Atlanta, 389; 31st, Atlanta, 389; 49th, Pleasant Hill, 379; 56th, "Gen'l Lyons" disaster, 469; 58th, Pleasant Hill, 379; 73d, 412; 74th, Murfreesboro', 211; 83d, Dover, 295; 88th, 96th, 115th, Chickamauga, 299.

---- _Cavalry_, 2d, Bolivar, 227; 7th, Charleston, 230; 9th, Rocky Crossing, 342; 20th, Ripley, 340.

---- regimental losses, 11th and 89th inf., 481; 21st, 31st, 36th, 40th, 55th, 93d inf., 483.

Illinois Central R. R., 140, 193.

Imboden, John D., C brig.-gen., 27; Gettysburg, 259; accusation against Hunter, 317-319; Charlestown, Va., 334; Newmarket, Va., 433; port., 434.

"Impending Crisis," Helper's, 182.

Incidents, Thrilling, 464-472.

Independence, Mo., engagement, 230; surrendered, 231.

Indian Territory, Dept. of, 81.

Indiana _Infantry_, 3d, Shirley's Ford, 231; 6th, Hodgesville, 115, Chickamauga, 299; 7th, Bolivar, 437; 16th, Richmond, 224; 20th, Manassas Gap, 333; 32d, Munfordville, 115; 33d, Camp Wildcat, 114; 48th, Iuka, 204; 51st, 348; 55th, Richmond, 224; 68th, Chickamauga, 299; 69th and 71st, Richmond, 224; 89th, Pleasant Hill, 379.

---- 9th cav., in "Sultana" disaster, 469; 19th inf. loss at Bull Run, 477.

---- regimental losses, 14th inf., 481; 19th inf., 481; 27th inf., 481.

Indianola, N gunboat, Vicksburg, 277.

Indians, in Confederate service, 80, 231; uprising in Northwest, 234, 348; Tennessee, 317.

Individual Heroism and Thrilling Incidents, 464-472.

Infantry, U. S., 8th (colored), Olustee, Fla., 436.

Ingalls, Rufus, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 398.

----, ----, N quar.-gen., 156.

Ingersoll, Robert G., N col., Corinth, 207; Lexington, Ky., 225.

Ingraham, Duncan N., C commodore, siege of Charleston, 289.

Innes, W. P., N col., Murfreesboro', 211.

Iowa _Infantry_, 5th, Iuka, 204; 7th, Belmont, 122; 10th and 16th, Iuka, 204; 23d, Milliken's Bend, 240; 39th, Parker's Cross Roads, 229.

---- 1st cavalry, Jackson, 230.

---- regimental losses, 5th, 7th, 9th, 22d, 483.

Ireland, ----, N col., Lookout Mountain, 313.

Irish Bend, La., battle, 345, 347; ills., 346, 376.

"Irish Brigade," (23d Ill. inf.), Lexington, 118; (63d, 69th, and 88th N. Y. inf.), Fredericksburg, 197-199.

"Iron Brigade," Gettysburg, 251.

Ironside, English vessel, 87.

Irving, Washington, quoted, 459.

Irwinsville, Ga., President Davis captured, 448.

Island No. 10, ill., 98, 99, 226, 307.

Iuka, Miss., battle, 203-206.

Iverson, Alfred, C brig.-gen., 33; Gettysburg, 252.

Ives, Joseph C., C col., port., 450.

Jacinto, Miss., 204, 205.

Jackson, Conrad F., N brig.-gen., killed, Fredericksburg, 196.

----, Claiborne F., gov. of Mo., 37; efforts to make the State secede, 38; proclaims invasion of State by U. S. troops, 39.

----, James S., N brig.-gen., killed, Perryville, 201.

----, Thomas J., "Stonewall," C lieut.-gen., Harper's Ferry, 28, 47, 49; Bull Run, 53, 55, 111; prayer in camp, ill., 130; Peninsular campaign, 143-162, 163; Cedar Mountain, 164; Sulphur Springs, 166; Groveton, 167, 168; 2d Bull Run, 168, 169; Manassas Junction, 171; Antietam campaign, 175-177; Shenandoah Valley, 193, 216; killed, Chancellorsville, 242; port., 245; advocates the black flag, 316, 451; anecdote, 463.

Jackson, Miss., 270, 274; captured, 275; evacuated, 342, 375.

----, Mo., action, 230.

----, Tenn., 206, 207, 271.

Jackson's Ford, Chancellorsville, 243.

Jacob's Ford, Va., 335, 336.

Jacques, James F., N col., peace mission, 412.

James, Army of the, commanded by Butler, 351, 365; Grant's left wing, 351; advance on Petersburg, 397.

James Island, Charleston Harbor, 292, 293.

---- River, ill., 468.

---- River Canal, locks destroyed, 442.

Jamestown, Va., 144.

Janeway, ----, N maj., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Jardine, Edward, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 285.

Jefferson, Va., 166.

Jefferson City, Mo., 39, 118.

Jenkins, Albert G., C brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 259; killed, 433.

----, Micah, C brig.-gen., killed, Wilderness, 356.

----, Thornton A., N rear-adm., port., 393.

Jetersville, Va., fight, 446.

"John Brown's Body," Charles S. Hall, 136.

John Cabin Bridge, near Washington, ill., 404.

John Ross house, near Ringgold, Ga., ill., 460.

Johns, Thomas D., N b'v't brig.-gen., Romney, 113.

Johnson, Andrew, mil. gov. Tenn., 44, 226; port., 227; nominated for vice-president, 412; reviews armies in Washington, 450.

----, Bradley T., C brig.-gen., burning of Chambersburg, 319, 403; Penn. raid, 404; port., 411, 531.

----, Bushrod R., C maj.-gen., port., 80.

----, Reverdy, 43.

----, Richard W., N b'v't maj.-gen., captured at Gallatin, Tenn., 227.

----, William P., C col., port., 450.

----, ----, N capt., 105.

----, ----, N capt., comdg. gunboat Forest Rose, Waterproof, La., 437.

Johnson's Island, Lake Erie, prison, 528.

Johnston, Albert Sidney, C gen., Corinth, 100; killed at Shiloh, 101; port., 104, 451.

----, Edward, C maj.-gen., captured, Spottsylvania, 359, 362.

----, James D., C comr., Mobile Bay, 392.

----, Joseph E., C gen., Harper's Ferry, 28, 47, 49; port., 55; Bull Run, 54, 57, 59, 62; Peninsular campaign, 140-146, 151; Jackson, Miss., 275, 276, 342; 295; supersedes Bragg, 311; Dalton, Ga., 353; port., 383; Atlanta campaign, 383-390; Dalton, 383; Resaca, 385; Kenesaw Mountain, 387; superseded by Hood, 387; blamed by Davis, 420; reinstated, 439; opposes Sherman in the Carolinas, 439-441; surrender to Sherman at Durham Sta., N. C., 446; foresees the end, 448; cartoon, 463.

----, Robert D., C brig.-gen., wounded, Spottsylvania, 362.

----, Sarah R., Mrs., 536.

Joinville, Prince de, port., 142.

Jones, Catesby, C com., 85.

----, David R., C maj.-gen., at Bull Run, 53, 175.

----, Edward F., N b'v't brig.-gen., 23.

----, John B., quoted, 413.

----, John M., C brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 259; port., 361.

----, Roger, N lieut., 27.

----, Samuel, C maj.-gen., Rocky Gap, Va., 333; port., 335; Fairmont, W. Va., 337; Jonesville, Va., 433.

----, W. H., 10.

Jones Island, Ga., 220.

Jonesboro', Ga., 390, 422.

Jonesborough, Miss., 209.

Jonesville, Va., fight, 433.

Jordan, ----, N col., captured, 295.

Journal, Chicago, Ill., 311.

----, Louisville, Ky., 209.

----, Wilmington, quoted, 431.

Journal of Commerce, New York, 33.

Kanawha, State of (West Virginia), 45.

Kane, George P., 24.

Kansas _Infantry_, 1st, losses, 483; 2d, Cane Hill, 232; 6th, Independence, 230; 7th, 185; 11th, Cane Hill, 232; 1st colored reg., Butler, 231.

---- 5th cavalry, Pine Bluff, 344.

Kautz, August V., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 443.

Kearney, Philip, N maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 143-158; Pope's campaign, 166-168; port., 168; killed, Chantilly, Va., 169, 451, 470.

Kearsarge, N cruiser, ill., 371; destroys "Alabama," 372; ill., 373.

Keenan, Peter, N maj., Chancellorsville, 242; port., 245.

Keifer, J. Warren, N b'v't maj.-gen., Wilderness, 357.

Kelley, Benjamin F., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 39; at Philippi, 45; Romney, 113, 216.

Kellogg, Robert H., N sergt.-maj., Andersonville prison, 321; Florence, S. C., 415.

----, ----, N capt., recaptured, 322.

Kelly, James, N corp., killed, Gettysburg, 260.

----, Patrick, N col., Fredericksburg, 199.

Kelly's Ferry, Tenn., anecdote, 468.

---- Ford, Va., 165, 166; action, 332; action, 334, 335.

Kelton, John C., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 176.

Kemper, James L., C maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 259.

Kendrick, Rev. J. Ryland, quoted, 423.

Kenesaw Mountain, Ga., ill., 366; occupied by Johnston, 385, 386; battle, 387.

Kennedy, John A., draft riots in New York, 285.

Kentucky, refuses to secede, 35; struggle for, 41; _infantry_, 4th, 73; 5th, losses, 481; 8th, Lookout Mountain, 314; 15th, Perryville, 201, losses, 481; 18th, Mr. Sterling, 224, Richmond, 225; 34th, Powell's River bridge, 437; _cavalry_, 7th, Big Hill, 224; 8th, Rural Hills, 229.

Keokuk, N ironclad, siege of Charleston, 289.

Kerns, Mark, N capt., 158.

Kernstown, Va., action, 216.

Kettle Run, Va., action, 331.

Key West, Fla., 91.

Keyes, Erasmus D., N maj.-gen., 49; at Bull Run, 55, 57; Peninsular Campaign, 143; port., 150.

Kilmer, George L., _Articles_, 520-532.

Kilpatrick, Judson, N maj.-gen., cavalry superiority, 250; Gettysburg, 259; Aldie, Va., 267, 268; Rappahannock Sta., 335; Atlanta, 390, 405; in march to the sea, 422; Averysboro', 441, 513; port., 528, 531.

Kimball, Nathan, N b'v't maj.-gen., Kernstown, 216; port., 422.

King, Edward A., N col., killed, Chickamauga, 299.

----, E. M., N lieut., port., 274.

----, Rufus, N brig.-gen., Groveton, 167.

Kingston, Ga., 385.

----, Tenn., 308.

Kinsman, N gunboat, Bayou Teche, La., 345.

Kinston, N. C., 461.

Kirk, Edward N., N brig.-gen., killed, Murfreesboro', 211.

Kirkland, William W., C brig.-gen., wounded, Cold Harbor, 368.

Kittridge, Walter, "Tenting on the old camp-ground," 139.

Kline, ----, N drum sergt., Spottsylvania, 361.

Knight, William, Andrews's raid, 529.

Knowles, ----, N quar.-mas., Mobile Bay, 391.

Knoxville, Tenn., 73, 308, 311; siege, 342.

Kreutzer, William, N col., Fair Oaks, 147; Cold Harbor, 365.

Lafayette, Ga., 297, 298.

La Grange, Tenn., 274.

Lake Borgne, La., 91.

---- Providence, La., 273; ill., 274.

Lamont, ----, C cav., Tom's Brook, Va., 410.

Lamphere, ----, N lieut., Richmond, Ky., 224.

Lampson, R. H., N lieut.-comr., "Mount Washington," 348.

Lancaster, Mo., 122.

----, S. C., 440.

Lander, Frederick W., N brig.-gen., Blooming Gap, 217, 218.

Landrum, J. J., N lieut.-col., Cynthiana, 223.

Lane, James H., C brig.-gen., wounded, Cold Harbor, 368.

Last Confederate Council of War, 492.

Last Days of the Confederacy, 485-494.

Latane, William, C capt., 151.

Lauman, Jacob G., N b'v't maj.-gen., Jackson, Miss., 342.

La Vergne, Tenn., 211; engagement, 227.

Law, E. McIver, C maj.-gen., wounded, Cold Harbor, 368.

Lawler, Michael K., N b'v't maj.-gen., Big Black River, Miss., 275.

Lawrence, Kan., plundered by Quantrell, 345.

----, Mills, Mo., 344.

Lawrenceburg, Ky., action, 225.

Lawson, ----, N surg.-gen., death, 324.

Lawton, Alexander R., C brig.-gen., Antietam, 180; port., 508.

Leap for Liberty, A, 523-524.

Lebanon, Ky., captured by Morgan, 297.

----, Tenn., engagement, 229.

Le Clerc, ----, N capt., port., 142.

Ledbetter, ----, C col., 316.

Ledlie, James H., N brig.-gen., advance on Petersburg, 399.

Lee, Albert L., N brig.-gen., port., 382.

----, Edmund I., residence destroyed by Hunter, 319.

----, Fitzhugh, C maj.-gen., 164; port., 265; Trevilian Sta., Va., 433, 493.

----, G. W. C., C maj.-gen., port., 165, 445, 450.

----, Robert E., C lieut.-gen., ports., 17, 165, 183, 487; commands Va. troops, 28; resigns from U. S. service, 35; commands in W. Va., 44, 49, 114; Peninsular campaign, 143-162; operations against Pope, 163-171; Antietam campaign, 175-180; Winchester, 191; Fredericksburg, 193-197, 217; Chancellorsville, 241-246; Gettysburg, 249-269; letter to Pres. Davis after Gettysburg, 268; retreat through Shenandoah Valley, 333; Rappahannock Sta., 334, 335; Robertson's Tavern, 336, 342, 350, 351; Orange C. H., Va., 353; Wilderness, 354-357; Spottsylvania, 358-362; Cold Harbor, 365, 368, 369; defence of Petersburg, 397-400, 406; plans to escape Grant, 442; withdraws in retreat from Richmond and Petersburg, 445; surrenders to Grant at Appomattox C. H., 446; farewell address to his army, 446; surrender to Grant, ill., 447; begs for rations in Richmond and Petersburg, 485; discouragement in March, 1865, 486; orders Gordon into Petersburg, 487; last council of war, 493; at Appomattox, ill., 494.

----, Wm. H. F., C maj.-gen., port., 399.

----, ----, C col., 17.

Leesburg, Va., 109; battle anecdote, 463.

LeFavour, Heber, N b'v't brig.-gen., Chickamauga, 303.

Lefferts, Marshall, N col., 7th N. Y. regiment, 24, 25; port., 33.

Le Gendre, Charles W., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 276.

Leggett, Mortimer D., N maj.-gen., Bald Hill, Atlanta, 387, 388; port., 414.

Leggett's Hill (Atlanta), battle, 387.

Leighton, ----, N capt., adventures as a spy, 509.

LeRoy, William E., N comr., Mobile Bay, 392.

Letcher, John, gov. of Va., 9, 32, 33; port., 165; quoted, 316; residence burned by Hunter, 318, 319.

Lewis, J. E., N capt., 523.

Lewisburg, W. Va., 113, 317, 318.

Lexington, Mo., 109; battle, 118; ill., 116.

----, Tenn., captured by Forrest, 225, 229.

----, Va., devastated by Hunter, 318, 319.

----, N gunboat, Shiloh, 101; Fort Donelson, 340; Grand Ecore, La., 381.

Libby Prison, ills., 320, 520; 321, 323, 348, 349, 454; tunnel and escape, 521, 531.

Liberty Gap, Tenn., action, 297.

Liberty party, 259.

Lick Creek, Shiloh, 100.

Licking River, 115.

Lincoln, Abraham, ports., frontispiece, 6; elected President of the U. S., 9; first call for troops, 18, 35; reviews 7th N. Y. reg., 25; inaugural address, 29; proclaimed rebellion, 35; early military embarrassments, 48; calls for more troops, 49; Peninsular campaign, 143; port., 147; hatred of slavery, 182; correspondence with Horace Greeley, 186; emancipation proclamation, 187, 189; visits McClellan, 191; criticised by Gurowski, 236, 237; letter to Hooker, 241; address at Gettysburg, 269; letter to Grant at Vicksburg, 277; attitude toward Sanitary Commission, 324; appoints Grant lieut.-gen., 351; instructions to Minister Adams, 374; port., 402; exposed to fire, Fort Stevens, 404; letter to Grant about Shenandoah, 405; despatch to Sheridan after Winchester, 409; renominated for president, 412; re-elected, 415; receives peace commission at Ft. Monroe, 441; assassinated, 449; 2d inaugural address quoted, 450; cartoons, 455-463; anecdotes, 457; visits camp, 503.

Little, Henry, C brig.-gen., killed, Iuka, 204, 206.

Little Rock, Ark., 35, 470.

Little Round Top, Gettysburg, 252; ill., 253, 260, 261.

Livermore, Mary A., Mrs., port., 536, 540.

Logan, John A., N maj.-gen., ports., 30, 517; Champion's Hill, Miss., 275; Vicksburg, 279, 307, 316; Atlanta, 389, 390, 483, 513; (sketch), 517.

Logan's Cross Roads, Ky., 73.

London Morning Advertiser, London, Eng., quoted, 269.

Lone Jack, Mo., engagement, 231.

Long Bridge, D. C., ill., 22, 62.

----, Va., 368.

Longfellow, Henry W., from "Building of the Ship," 35; port., 190; quoted on slavery, 184.

Longstreet, James, C lieut.-gen., 49; at Bull Run, 53; port., 55; Fair Oaks, 150; Peninsular campaign, 154-162; Thoroughfare Gap, 166, 167; Groveton, 168; Antietam campaign, 175-180; Culpeper, 193; Fredericksburg, 195, 197; Culpeper, 249, 250; Gettysburg, 252-268; port., 265; Chickamauga, 298-302, 308; in Va., 311; Suffolk, Va., 329; Knoxville, 342, 351; Wilderness, 354-357; wounded, ill., 358; Spottsylvania, 358, 368; foresees the end, 448; Ft. Steadman, 488, 491; covers Lee's retreat, 492.

Lookout Mountain, Tenn., 263, 303-314; ills., 304, 309, 310; battle, 308-313.

Loomis, Cyrus O., N b'v't brig.-gen., Perryville, 201; Murfreesboro', 210, 212; Lookout Mountain, 314.

Loomis's Battery, ill., 205.

"Lorena" (author unknown), 133.

Loring, William W., C maj.-gen., Fayetteville, W. Va., 218.

Losses, at Gettysburg and Waterloo, 259, 476; in Franco-German War, 476; highest percentage of, in National and Confederate regiments, 476; comparative, at Gettysburg, Spottsylvania, Wilderness, Chickamauga, Chancellorsville, and Antietam, 477; of separate regiments, 477-485.

Lost Mountain, Ga., occupied by Johnston, 385; abandoned, 386.

Loudoun Heights, Va., 111.

Louisa C. H., Va., fight, 433.

Louisiana secedes, 9; 18th inf., Shiloh, 101; 3d inf., Iuka, 206; "Tigers," Gettysburg, 254.

Louis Napoleon, unfriendly to the United States, 66, 375.

Louisville, Ga., 422.

----, Ky., 209, 307, 383.

Love, ----, N capt., 84.

Lovell, Mansfield, C maj.-gen., at N. O., port., 96.

Lowe, John W., N col., 113; killed at Gauley River, 114; port., 483.

----, T. S. C., balloonist, port., 154, 162.

----, ----, C col., killed, Fredericktown, Mo., 118.

Lowell, Charles R., Jr., N brig.-gen., killed, Cedar Creek, Va., 410.

----, James Russell, quoted on slavery, 183.

"Loyal Mountaineers," quoted, 316.

Lubbock, Francis R., C col., port., 450.

Luray Valley, Va., 409.

Lynch, William F., N b'v't brig.-gen., Pleasant Hill, 379.

----, ----, C, killed, Belmont, 122.

Lynchburg, Va., 319.

Lyon, H. B., C brig.-gen., port., 434.

----, Nathaniel, N brig.-gen., port., 38; captures disloyal camp, Mo., 38; defeats McCulloch, Dug Spring, Mo., 41; is by him defeated at Wilson's Creek, Mo., and killed, 41; property bequeathed to U. S. government, 41, 451.

Lyons, ----, Judge, Richmond, 454.

Lytle, William H., N brig.-gen., Perryville, 201; killed, Chickamauga, 299, 301.

McAllister, Robert, N b'v't maj.-gen., Wilderness, 357.

McArthur, John, N b'v't maj.-gen., Corinth, 206, 207.

McCall, George A., N brig.-gen., Ball's Bluff, 109; Peninsular campaign, 154-158.

McCarthy, Harry, "The Bonnie Blue Flag," 136.

McCauley, Charles S., N commodore, 28.

McCausland, John, C brig.-gen., burning of Chambersburg, 319, 320, 404.

McClellan, George B., N maj.-gen., ports., 15, 140; Philippi and Rich Mountain, 45; in command Army of the Potomac, 45, 109; W. Va., 113; general-in-chief, 140; Peninsular campaign, 140-162; port., 147; "Little Mac," "Young Napoleon," 160; Harrison's Landing, 163; Antietam campaign, 175-180; attitude toward slavery, 182, 183; inaction after Antietam, 191, 192; succeeded by Burnside, criticised by Gurowski, 236, 237, 365, 368, 369; nominated for President, 413; defeated, 415; cartoon, 456; anecdote, 456.

----, Mrs. George B., port., 140.

----, H. B., C major, 164.

McClelland, U. S. revenue cutter, 10.

McClernand, John A., N maj.-gen., 49; Fort Donelson, 77; Shiloh, 100, 101; port., 108; Columbus, Ky., 223; Vicksburg campaign, 270-276.

McCook, Alexander McD., N maj.-gen., port., 205; Murfreesboro', 210; Chickamauga, 298-301.

----, Anson G., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 527.

----, Daniel, N pvt., killed, Buffington's Ford, 297.

----, Daniel, N brig.-gen., Chickamauga, 302; killed, Kenesaw Mountain, 387.

----, D. N., N col., Dandridge, Tenn., 436.

----, Edward M., N b'v't maj.-gen., Perryville, 201; port., 389; Newnan, Ga., 390.

McCulloch, Ben, C brig.-gen., Dug Spring and Wilson's Creek, 41; port., 45; killed at Pea Ridge, 80, 81.

McCullough, ----, C col., Bolivar, Tenn., 227.

McDonald, ----, N color-sergt., Fort Wagner, 292.

McDowell, Irwin, N maj.-gen., 24, 49; port., 51; at Bull Run, 53, 54, 57, 59, 60, 61, 63; Peninsular campaign, 141-160; Pope's campaign, 167-169; cartoon, 461.

McDowell, Va., engagement, 216.

McGowan, Samuel, C brig.-gen., wounded, Spottsylvania, 362.

McIntire, ----, N, Somerset, Ky., 340.

McIntosh, James, C brig.-gen., killed at Pea Ridge, 80.

----, John B., N b'v't maj.-gen., Shenandoah Valley, 406.

McKean, Thomas J., N b'v't maj.-gen., Corinth, 206, 207.

McKinstry, Justus, N brig.-gen., port., 230.

McLaughlin, N. B., N b'v't brig.-gen., captured at Ft. Steadman, 489.

McLaws, Lafayette, C maj.-gen., Antietam campaign, 175-177; port., 177.

McLean, Nathan C., N brig.-gen., port., 422.

McLean House, Appomattox, where Lee surrendered, ills., 447, 494.

McMahon, Martin T., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 367.

McMichael, ----, N maj., Chickamauga, 301.

McMillen, W. L., N brig.-gen., port., 437.

McMinnville, Tenn., 305.

McNeil, John, N b'v't maj.-gen., Cape Girardeau, Mo., 230.

McPherson, James B., N maj.-gen., 107, 108; Corinth, 207; port., 210; Vicksburg campaign, 273, 275; Meridian, Miss., 375; Atlanta campaign, 383-390; Resaca, 383, 385; killed, 390; ill., 388, 451; scene of death of, ill., 482; compared with Logan, 517.

----, William, 41.

McRae, Alex., capt., U. S. cav., killed, Ft. Craig, N. M., 233.

Mackey, T. J., C capt., _Article_, 465.

Macon, Ga., 390, 422.

Madison, Ga., 425-427.

Madison University, Hamilton, N. Y., company recruited from, 479.

Magenta, Italy, 23, 169.

Magoffin, Beriah, gov. of Ky., 41.

Magruder, John B., C maj-gen., port., 45; at Big Bethel, 45, 49; Peninsular campaign, 143-162; captures Galveston, 348.

Mahone, William, C maj.-gen., port., 445.

Maine _Infantry_, 3d and 4th, Manassas Gap, 333; 5th and 6th, Rappahannock Sta., 335; 12th, Richmond, 445; 20th, Gettysburg, 254; Rappahannock Sta., 335.

---- 1st art'y, losses, 477; 5th bat'y, Winchester, 407, losses, 483.

Majthenyi, ----, N adj., 121.

Mallory, Stephen R., C sec'y of the navy, port., 36.

----, W. B., C capt., 185.

Malsbury, ----, N, Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Malvern Hill, Va., battle, 159; ill., 156.

Manassas, C ram, at N. O., 93; ill., 94.

Manassas Gap, Va., battle, 333, 472.

Manassas Gap Railroad, 168.

Manassas Junction, Va., 45, 52, 53, 54, 60, 140; evacuated, 143, 166, 167, 171.

Manhattan, N monitor, Mobile Bay, 391.

Mansfield, Joseph K. F., N maj.-gen., port., 49, 52, 53; Antietam, 177-180; killed, Antietam, 180, 451.

Manson, Mahlon D., N brig.-gen., Richmond, Ky., 224, 225.

March to the Sea, The, 419-430.

"Marching through Georgia," Henry C. Work, 129.

Marietta, Ga., Atlanta campaign, 385, 520.

Marion County, Tenn., secessionists assessed by Negley, 226.

Marmaduke, John S., C maj.-gen., Cape Girardeau, Mo., 230; port., 231; Cane Hill, Ark., 232, 233; Prairie Grove, Ark., 233; Pine Bluff, Ark., 344; Springfield, Mo., 344.

Marsh, Jason, N col., Murfreesboro', 211.

Marshall, Humphrey, C brig.-gen., Big Sandy River, 73, 223; port., 225.

----, William R., N b'v't brig.-gen., Big Mound, Dak., 348.

----, ----, N corp., Bolivar Heights, 111.

Marston, Gilman, N brig.-gen., Cold Harbor, 367.

Martin, Frank, N (female) pvt., 8th and 25th Mich. inf., 470.

----, Thomas S., N lieut.-col., port., 485.

Martindale, William F., N capt., Shepherdstown, W. Va., 319.

Martinsburg, W. Va., engagement, 111, 175, 176, 406, 407.

Marye's Hill, Va., ill., 194; battle, 195, 197.

Maryland, struggle for, 43; invaded by Lee, 175; 2d inf., Antietam, 179; slavery abolished, 415; 6th (N) inf., losses, 481; 1st (C) inf., losses, 484.

Maryland Heights, Md., 403.

Mason, Charles, N spy, executed, 507.

----, James M., 63; port., 65.

----, of Virginia, C spy, 505.

Massachusetts _Infantry_ regts., 6th, attacked in Baltimore, 5, 23, ill., 32; 8th, 24, 25; 11th, Pope's campaign, 171, Chancellorsville, 245; 13th, Bolivar Heights, 111; 15th, Ball's Bluff, 110; 19th, 110, Fredericksburg, 195, 478; 20th, Fredericksburg, 195, sundry battles, 477-478; 38th, Bayou Teche, 348; 54th, Fort Wagner, 239, 290.

---- _Cavalry_, 4th, Richmond, 454.

----, regimental losses, infantry, 12th, Antietam and Manassas, 477; 15th, 477.

Massanutten Mountain, Va., C signal station, 411.

Matchett, Charles G., N capt., Franklin, Tenn., 341.

Matthias, Charles L., N col., Iuka, 204.

Maxey, Samuel B., C brig.-gen., port., 318.

May, ----, C col., mayor of Richmond, 454.

----, ----, N lieut.-col., Rural Hills, Tenn., 229.

Mayfield, Ky., 223.

Mayne, Frank, N (female) sergt., 126th Pa. inf., 470.

Maysville, Mo., battle, 232.

Meade, George G., N maj.-gen., 2d Bull Run, 169; Fredericksburg, 195; supersedes Hooker, 250; Gettysburg, 251-269; port., 252; portrait group, 268; pursues Lee, 333; Rappahannock Sta., 334; Robertson's Tavern, Va., 335, 336; Mine Run, Va., 337; Wilderness, 354, 358; Cold Harbor, 365, 368; advance on Petersburg, 397.

----, Richard K., N 2d lieut., port., 11; at Sumter, 12; joins C, 11.

----, ----, N col., killed, Cold Harbor, 367.

Meagher, Thomas F., N brig-.-gen., Antietam, 180; port., 196; Fredericksburg, 197, 502.

Measure of Valor, The, 476-485.

Mechanicsville, Va., Peninsular campaign, 144-155.

Mecklenburg, N. C., 190.

Meigs, Montgomery C., N brig.-gen., port., 23, 49.

Memminger, C. G., N sec'y of the treasury, port., 26.

Memphis, Mo., engagement, 230, 231.

----, Tenn., 206, 270, 271, 273, 306, 340; Smith's raid, 375.

Memphis and Charleston Railroad, 100.

Mendon, Mass., 190.

Meredith, Solomon, N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 251.

----, ----, Judge, Richmond, 454.

Meridian, Miss., captured by Sherman, 375.

Merion, N. L., warden Ohio penitentiary, 527.

Meriwether, ----, C lieut.-col., killed, Sacramento, 115.

Merrill, Lewis, N b'v't brig.-gen., Hartsville, Mo., 344, 345.

Merrimac, N frigate, 28, 29; as C ironclad, ill., 83; destroys "Cumberland" and "Congress," 84; battle with "Monitor," ill., 85, 86, 87; destroyed, 217.

Merritt, Wesley, N maj.-gen., 268; Robertson's Tavern, 335; port., 356, 405; Shenandoah Valley, 406-410.

Metacomet, N gunboat, Mobile Bay, 392.

Metcalfe, Leonidas, N col., Big Hill, 224.

Mexico, French forces in, 66, 382.

Miami, N gunboat, Plymouth, N. C., 434.

Michigan _Infantry_, 1st, loss at Bull Run, 477; 2d and 5th, 470; 7th, 11th, 478; 8th, Secessionville, 219; Wilmington Island, 221, 470; 9th, Murfreesboro', 226; 12th, 105; 22d, Chickamauga, 303; 25th, 470; losses--1st, 4th and 24th, 483; 9th engineers, Murfreesboro', 211; 1st cav., 470; 4th cav., Murfreesboro', 211.

----, N gunboat, Lake Erie raid, 528, 529.

Middle Boss Island, Lake Erie, 528.

Middleburg, Va., action, 250, 267.

Miles, Dixon S., N b'v't brig.-gen., 49; Harper's Ferry, 175, 176.

----, Nelson A., N maj.-gen., advance on Petersburg, 400, 479; port., 530.

----, W. Porcher, C capt., 17.

Milford, Mo., 122.

Military railroad, ill., 486.

Mill Springs, Ky., battle, 73, 76; ill., 78.

Milledgeville, Ga., 422.

Millen, Ga., prison camps, 321, 415, 423.

Miller, John F., N b'v't maj.-gen., Liberty Gap, 297.

----, M. M., N capt., Milliken's Bend, 240.

Milliken's Bend, La., battle, 240, 271, 277.

Milroy, Robert H., N maj.-gen., Buffalo Mountain, 114; McDowell, 216; port., 217; Winchester, Va., 250.

Milton, Tenn., battle, 295, 340.

Mine Run, Va., action, 336, 337, 353.

Minnesota, 3d inf., Fitzhugh's Woods, Ark., 437; 1st inf., charge at Gettysburg compared with Balaklava, 476.

----, N cruiser, 68, 85.

Minor Engagements of the first year, 109-122.

Minor Events of the second year, 215-234. of the third year, 329-349. of the fourth year, 431-437.

Mint, New Orleans, La., 95, 97.

Minty, Robert H. G., N b'v't maj.-gen., Murfreesboro', 211.

Missionary Ridge, Tenn., 263; ill., 296, 303-312; battle, 309, 311, 405.

Mississippi secedes, 9; 6th inf., Shiloh, 101; 2d inf., Gettysburg, 260.

----, regimental losses, 16th, 18th, 29th, 6th, 8th inf., 484.

----, N cruiser at N. O., 90, 91, 93; ill., 94.

----, military division of the, commanded by Grant, 305.

Mississippian, Jackson, Miss., quoted, 316.

Missouri, struggle for, 35, 38; guerilla warfare, 79; minor engagements, 117-122.

---- _Infantry_, 6th Vicksburg, 272; 11th, Iuka, 204; 13th and 14th, Lexington, 118; 25th, 105; 26th, Iuka, 204.

---- _Cavalry_, 1st, Sugar Creek, 231; 7th, Warrensburg, 230; 18th, Rocky Crossing, 342.

----, regimental losses, (N) 11th inf., 483; 12th inf., 483; 13th inf., 483.

---- compromise, 7.

----, Dept. of (N), 73.

Mitchel, Ormsby M., N maj.-gen., Bowling Green, 76.

Mitchell, Robert B., N brig.-gen., Perryville, 203; port., 205; Chickamauga, 299.

Mitchell's Ford (Bull Run), 53.

Mizner, John K., N b'v't brig.-gen., Iuka, 203.

Moale, Edward, 11.

Mobile, Ala., 307, 353, 375, 391-395.

Mobile Bay, defences, 391; battle, 391-396; ill., 396.

Mobile and Ohio R. R., 100, 375.

Moccasin Point, Tenn., 312, 314.

Mohain, ----, Capt., port., 142.

Molineaux, Edward L., N b'v't maj.-gen., 24.

Monitor, N ironclad, invented by Ericsson, 84; battle with "Merrimac," ill., 85, 86; foundered, ill., 88.

"Monitor" and "Merrimac," 83-87.

Monocacy, Md., battle, 402, 403.

Monongahela River, 113.

Montauk, N monitor, destroys the "Nashville," 348.

Montgomery, Ala., seat of C government, 9, 32, 33, 526-532.

Monticello, N cruiser, 531.

Monticello, Ga., 427.

Moore, Absalom B., N col., Hartsville, Tenn., 229.

----, Thomas O., gov. of La., port., 96.

----, ----, N capt., Ripley, Tenn., 340.

Moorefield, W. Va., action, 337.

Moorehead City, N. C., 72.

Morell, George W., N maj.-gen., port., 180.

Morgan, Edwin D., gov. of N. Y., port., 18; influence, 448.

----, George W., N brig.-gen., Vicksburg campaign, 272.

----, John H., C brig.-gen., Murfreesboro', 209; port., 211; Cynthiana, Ky., 223; Hartsville, Tenn., 229; Milton, Tenn., 295; raid into Ohio, 297; port., 297; Vaught's Hill, Tenn., 340; Snow Hill, Tenn., 341; Crockett's Cove, W. Va., 433, 526-532.

----, Mrs. John H., port., 211.

----, John T., C brig.-gen., port., 427, 474; _Article_, 472-474.

----, ----, N maj., Pleasant Hill, La., 379.

Morgan's Escape, 526, 527.

Morris, George U., N lieut., port., 84.

----, William H., N brig.-gen., port., 357.

----, ----, col., killed, Cold Harbor, 367.

Morris Island, Charleston harbor, 5, 12, 14, 15, 288-294.

Morton, Oliver P., gov. of Ind., port., 18; influence, 448.

Morton's Ford, Va., 335.

Mosby, John S., C col., 164; operations in Va., 331; quoted, 331, 332; port., 332.

Moss, Lemuel, Christian commission, 326.

Mott, Gershom, N maj.-gen., Spottsylvania, 359; port., 530.

----, Samuel R., N b'v't brig.-gen., Chancellorsville, 246.

Moultrieville, S. C., 11.

Mount Roan, Va., 335.

Mount Sterling, Ky., 223, 224.

Mount Vernon, action, Ala., 10, 35.

Mount Washington, N gunboat, 348.

Mountjoy, ----, N cav., Warrenton Junction, 331.

Mouton, Alfred, C brig.-gen., killed, Sabine Cross Roads, 377.

Mower, Joseph A., N maj.-gen., ports., 30, 514; Iuka, 204; Pleasant Hill, 379, 483.

Mullany, J. R. M., N naval com., Mobile Bay, 393.

Mulligan, James A., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 117; Lexington, Mo., 118.

Munfordville, Ky., battle, 115; ill., 112, 200.

Munsell, Mrs. Jane R., 540.

Munson, Gilbert D., N col., Bald Hill, Atlanta, 389.

Murfreesboro', Tenn., battle, 209-213; ill., 202; _Map_, 211; captured by Pillow, 226, 227, 295, 298, 340, 405.

Murphy, R. C., N col., Holly Springs, 271.

Murray, ----, N maj., 3d Ky. Cavalry, 115.

"My Maryland," James Ryder Randall, 131, 413.

Naglee, Henry M., N brig.-gen., ports., 159, 552.

Nag's Head, N. C., 72.

Nashville, Tenn., 79, 209, 226, 307, 308, 340, 383; battle, _Map_, 426.

----, C cruiser, ill., 76; destroyed, Fort McAllister, Ga., 348.

Nashville and Chattanooga R. R., 209.

Nassau, West Indies, 288.

Natchitochez, La., 379.

National finances (The), 415-417.

Naval Academy, U. S., 25, 47.

Navy, the condition at the opening of the war, 66.

"Neckties, Jeff Davis's," 375.

Negley, James S., N maj.-gen., Falling Waters, 111; port., 226; Sweeden's Cove, 226; Nashville, 227.

Nelson, William, N maj.-gen., Shiloh, 101, 103, 513; Richmond, Ky., 225; port., 226; killed by Gen. Jeff. C. Davis, 513.

Nelson's Farm, Va., 159.

Neosho, N gunboat, Grand Ecore, La., 381.

Newark, O., arrest of (C) Lieut. S. B. Davis, 471.

New Berne, N. C., 67, 72, 193.

New Carthage, La., 274.

Newcomer, ----, N private, spy, 510.

New Era, N gunboat, Fort Pillow, 320.

New Hampshire _Infantry_--5th, losses in battle, 477; Antietam, 178, 179; 6th, Antietam, 178, 179; 7th, Olustee, 436; 9th, Spottsylvania, 361; 10th, Cold Harbor, 367; 13th, Fredericksburg, 199.

New Hope Church, Ga., battle, 385; ill., 466.

New Hope Church, Va., 335.

New Ironsides, N frigate, Fort Wagner, 292, 293.

New Jersey, 15th infantry, Spottsylvania, 361; 1st cavalry, Harrisonburg, 216; Hawes's shop, 363, 364; 2d cavalry, 348; infantry losses--8th, 12th, 15th, 480.

New Lisbon, O., Morgan's surrender, 297.

New Madrid, Mo., 99.

New Market, Va., 159, 433.

New Mexico, invaded, 233, 234.

Newnan, Ga., 390.

New Orleans, La., 10, 35, 83; important to Confederacy, 88; ill., 89; defences, 90; determination of U. S. to capture, 91; captured, 96, 270, 307, 350, 375, 391, 395.

Newport News, Va., 45.

Newton, John, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 192.

Newtown, near Kernstown, Va., 216.

New Ulm, Minn., Indian massacre, 234.

New York _Infantry_ regts., 1st, 2d, 3d, Big Bethel, 25; 4th, Kelly's Ford, 332; 5th (Duryea's) Zouaves, Big Bethel, 45; 6th, 25; 7th, Big Bethel, 45; 8th, 9th, 25; 11th, draft riots, 287; 22d, ill., 176; 40th, Gettysburg, 254, 260; 42d, Ball's Bluff, 109; 43d, 479; 44th, ill. of camp, 48, port. group officers, 287; 45th, Tybee Island, 220; 48th, 220; 51st, Antietam, 179; 57th, ambulance corps, ill., 475; 63d, 69th, Fredericksburg, 198, 199; 71st, 25; 81st, 85th, Fair Oaks, 147; 89th, Suffolk, 329, 478; 92d, Fair Oaks, 147; 95th, 479; 98th, Fair Oaks, 147, 150, Cold Harbor, 365, 367; 112th, Suffolk, 329; 118th, Cold Harbor, 367; 121st, Rappahannock Sta., 335; 124th, Gettysburg, 254, 260; 125th, Rappahannock Sta., 335; 140th, Gettysburg, 254, 260; _Cavalry_, 1st, Shepherdstown, 319; 5th, Warrenton Junc., Va., 331; 8th, Brandy Sta., 249; _Artillery_, 14th, battle flags, ill., 472, Petersburg Crater, 479; regimental losses, inf., 5th (Duryea's Zouaves), Bull Run, 477, 479; 40th, 42d, 44th (Ellsworth Avengers), 48th, 49th, 51st, 52d, 59th, 61st, 63d, 69th, 70th, 76th, 79th, 81st, 82d, 83d, 84th, 86th, 88th, 93d, 97th, 100th, 479; 101st, 477; 109th, 111th, 112th, 120th, 121st, 124th, 126th, 137th, 140th, 147th, 149th, 164th, 170th, 480; regimental losses, heavy art'y, 7th, 8th, 9th, 14th, 478; furnished one-sixth of all troops, 479.

New York, N. Y., departure 7th reg., 24; ill., 33; mass meeting in Union Square, 236; draft riots, 285-287; Sanitary commission, 324.

Niagara Falls, N. Y., peace conference, 412.

Nichols, Edward T., N naval com'r, port., 370.

----, Geo. Ward, N maj., quoted, 422.

Nicholls, Francis T., C brig.-gen., port., 260.

Nields, Henry C., N actg. ensign, Mobile Bay, 392, 393.

Nims, Ormond F., N capt., Sabine Cross Roads, 377.

Nolen, ----, N capt., Charleston, Mo., 230.

Norfolk, Va., 28, 83, 87; surrenders to Wool, 217.

Norfolk and Petersburg R. R., 398.

North Anna, Va., 362, 363.

North Atlantic squadron, 234.

North Carolina secedes, 35, 43; 1st inf., Tranter's Creek, 218; proposes to secede from Confederacy, 316; peace movement in, 420; regimental losses, 26th, 11th, 4th inf., 483; 27th, 2d inf., 484.

North Carolina, C ram, 531.

Northrop, Lucius B., C com.-gen., brutality, 320, 321.

Nugent, Robert, N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 196; Fredericksburg, 198, 199.

Nullification Act of S. C., 7.

O'Brien, FitzJames, N capt., 24; fatally wounded, Blooming Gap, 217.

----, Henry J., N col., killed, New York draft riots, 287.

Oglesby, Richard J., N maj.-gen., port., 276.

Ohio _Infantry_, 3d, Perryville, 201, anecdote, 468; 4th and 5th, Blue's Gap, 216; 6th, Kelly's Ford, 332; 7th, Cross Lanes, 113; 8th, Blooming Gap, 217; 9th, Logan's Cross Roads, 73; 10th, Perryville, 201, Murfreesboro', 211; 14th and 17th, Camp Wildcat, 114; 20th, Vicksburg, 277, 279; 23d, Clark's Hollow, 218, South Mountain, 176; 25th, Huntersville, 114; 34th, Fayetteville, 218, Winchester, 407; 40th, Lookout Mountain, 313; 62d and 67th, Fort Wagner, 291, 292; 78th, Atlanta, 389; 82d, McDowell, 216; 92d, Shiloh, 107; 93d, Lebanon, 229; 96th, Chickamauga, 303; 102d, Sultana disaster, 469; 107th, Gettysburg, 255; 108th, Hartsville, 229; 115th, Sultana disaster, 469; 122d, Cedar Creek, 411.

----, 5th cavalry, Rocky Crossing, 342.

----, losses, 7th inf., 481; 23d inf., 481; 25th inf., 481; Sands's batt'y, 483.

Ohio, Army of the, commanded by Schofield, 383.

"Old Folks at Home," Stephen Collins Foster, port., 134.

Old Fort Wayne, Ark., battle, 232.

Olden, Charles S., gov. of N. J., port., 18.

Oliver, John M., N b'v't maj.-gen., Corinth, 206.

Olmstead, Charles H., N col., Fort Pulaski, 220, 221.

Olmsted, Frederick Law, sanitary commission, 325.

Olustee, Fla., colored troops, 237; battle, 436.

O'Meara, ----, N col., killed, Chattanooga, 314.

"On to Richmond," 52, 140.

Oneida, N gunboat, New Orleans, 90, 93; ill., 94; Mobile Bay, 393.

Opdyke, Emerson, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 302.

Opequan, Va., 406; battle, 407, 409.

Orange and Alexandria R. R., 166, 250, 334.

Orange Court House, Va., Lee's headquarters, 353.

Orchard Knob, Tenn., ill., 296, 312, 313.

Ord, Edward O. C., N maj.-gen., Dranesville, 113; Iuka, 203-205; port., 207; Corinth, 207; Vicksburg, 276; Southside R. R., Va., 443, 445.

O'Bierne, James R., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 552.

O'Rorke, Patrick H., N lieut., Ft. Pulaski, 221; killed, Gettysburg, 254, 261; port., 261.

Osage Island, Mo., battle, 231.

Ossipee, N gunboat, Mobile Bay, 392.

Osterhaus, Peter J., N maj.-gen., port., 423, 483.

Ould, Robert, C col., 322.

Overend, W. H., artist, 394.

Overland campaign, The, 350-369.

Owasco, N steamer, Galveston, 348.

Owen, Joshua T., N brig.-gen., port., 357.

----, Robert Dale, 189.

Owl Creek, Shiloh, 100, 103.

Oxford, Va., 362.

Ozark, Mo., 344.

Pactolus, N. C., 218.

Paducah, Ky., 76, 320.

Paine, Halbert E., N b'v't maj.-gen., attitude toward slavery, 185.

Paine's Cross Roads, Va., fight, 446.

Paintsville, Ky., 73.

Palmer, Innis N., N b'v't maj.-gen., Fair Oaks, 150; port., 159.

----, James S., N commodore, Mobile Bay, 392.

----, John M., N maj.-gen., Murfreesboro', 212; port., 226; La Vergne, Tenn., 227, 229, 514.

Palmerston, Lord, favors the Confederacy, 269.

Palmetto flag, cut 9; raised at Charleston, 9.

Pamlico Sound, N. C., 67.

Paris, France, treaty, 374.

----, Va., 267.

Paris, Comte de, ports., 142, 147.

Parke, John G., N maj., North Carolina expedition, 72; port., 73; advance on Petersburg, 399; near Petersburg, 443, 445.

Parker, Ely S., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 530.

----, Foxhall A., N comr., Mobile Bay, 392.

----, Reuben, N pvt., 1st Vt. inf., adventure of, 502.

Parker's Cross Roads, Tenn., battle, 229, 230.

---- Store, Va., 335.

Parrott, E. A., N col., Dog Walk, 225.

Parsons, Charles C., N lieut., Perryville, 201; Murfreesboro', 212.

----, Emily E., Miss, port., 537, 539.

Pass à l'Outre, Miss. River, La., 91.

Patrick, Marsena R., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 180.

Patriotism, Oration on, 464.

Patterson, Joseph, Christian commission, 326.

----, Robert, N maj.-gen., at Harper's Ferry, 47; at Bull Run, 54; port., 57; Bunker Hill, 111.

Patton, W. T., C col., 113.

Paul, Gabriel R., N maj.-gen., port., 257; Gettysburg, 259.

Paulding, Hiram, N rear-admiral, 29; port., 370.

Pawnee, N cruiser, 15, 29.

Paxton, E. F., C brig.-gen., killed, Chancellorsville, 242.

Pea Ridge, Ark., battle of, 80; ill., 81, 231.

Peabody, Everett, N col., 105.

Peace, 448-454; convention, 182; negotiations, 441.

Peach Tree Creek, Ga., battle, 387.

Peck, John J., N maj.-gen., Suffolk, Va., 329.

Pegram, John C., C maj.-gen., in W. Va., 45, 49; port., 204; Somerset, Ky., 339; Wilderness, 357.

----, R. G., C capt. art. at Petersburg mine, 470.

Pelham, John, C artillery, killed, Kelly's Ford, Va., 333.

Pelouze, Louis H., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 406.

Pemberton, John C., C lieut.-gen., supersedes Van Dorn, 209, 271; Vicksburg, 274-280; port., 275.

Pender, William D., C maj.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 259.

Pendleton, George H., nominated for vice-president, 413.

----, William C., C brig.-gen., 493.

Peninsula Campaign (The), 140-162.

Pennsylvania _Infantry_, 3d and 16th, Kelly's Ford, 332; 27th, 24; 28th, Bolivar Heights, 111; 34th, Kelly's Ford, 332; 46th, 470; 49th, Rappahannock Sta., 335; 51st, Antietam, 178, 179; 51st, losses, 479; 63d, Manassas Gap, 333; 71st, Ball's Bluff, 109; 81st, Antietam, 178, 179; 85th, 322; 104th, Fair Oaks, 146-150; 119th, Rappahannock Sta., 335; 126th, 470; 141st, losses, 470; _Cavalry_, 1st, Hawes's Shop, 363; 7th, Murfreesboro', 211; 8th, Chancellorsville, 242; 15th, Murfreesboro', 211; losses, 11th inf., 480; 28th inf., 480; 49th inf., 480; 72d inf., 480; 83d inf., 480; 93d inf., 480; 119th inf., 480; 140th inf., 481.

Penrose, William H., N brig.-gen., port., 406.

Pensacola, Fla., 10, 393; bombardment, ill., 475.

Pensacola, N sloop, at N. O., 90, 91, 93.

Perkins, George H., N naval capt., New Orleans, 95; Mobile Bay, 392.

Perrin, Abner, C brig.-gen., killed, Spottsylvania, 362, 451.

----, James H., N col., 479.

Perryville, Ky., battle, 201, 307, 405.

Peter, W. G., C lieut., executed as a spy, 507.

Petersburg, Va., 353, 368, 387; approached by Grant, 397-400; map of vicinity, 399; explosion of mine, 399; ill., 400, 402, 406; fighting before, 443; outer defences taken, 445; evacuated, 445, 492; Court House, ill., 468; Burnside's Mine, 469; Crow's Nest observatory, ill., 469.

Peterson, Margaret Augusta, hospital services and death, 327; port., 327.

Pettigrew, J. Johnston, C brig.-gen., port., 155.

Peyton, ----, C col., 493.

Phelps, S. Ledyard, N lieut.-com., Peninsular campaign, 154.

----, Thomas S., N rear-adm., 156; survey of Potomac River, 234.

Philadelphia, Tenn., action, 342.

Philippi, W. Va., battle, ill., 39, 45.

"Philippi races," 45.

Phillips, Jesse L., N b'v't brig.-gen., Rocky Crossing, Miss., 342.

----, Wendell, port., 190.

Philo Parsons, Lake steamer, captured by raiders, 528, 529.

Pickens, Francis W., gov. S. C., 14.

Picket, N gunboat, exploded, 219.

Pickett, George E., C maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 257-268; port., 263, 387.

----, Mrs. Lasalle Corbell, article, 453, 454.

Pierce, E. W., N b'v't brig.-gen., at Big Bethel, 45.

----, Franklin, president of the U. S., 36; attitude toward slavery, 183; opposed to the war, 284.

Pierpont, Francis H., gov. W. Va., 45; port., 48.

Pierre Bayou, Miss., 274.

Pike, Albert, C brig.-gen., 80, 81; "Dixie," 131; port., 131.

Piketon, Mo., 122.

Pillow, Gideon J., C brig.-gen., 41; Fort Donelson, 79; port., 80.

Pilot Knob, Mo., 118; ill., 119.

Pin Indians, 81.

Pine Bluff, Ark., engagement, 344.

----, Tenn., fight, 437.

Pine Mountain, Ga., occupied by Johnston, 385; Polk killed, 386.

Pinkerton, Allan, port., 233.

Pinney, Oscar F., N capt., Perryville, 201.

Pipe Creek, near Gettysburg, 251, 252, 263.

Pittsburgh Landing, Tenn., 100; ill., 102, 107.

Pittsburgh, N gunboat, Island No. 10, 99.

Pleasant Hill, La., battle, 378, 379.

Pleasonton, Alfred, N maj.-gen., Chancellorsville, 242; Brandy Sta., Va., 249; Aldie, Va., 250; port., 250; Gettysburg, 251; Upperville, Va., 267.

Plummer, Joseph B., N brig.-gen., at New Madrid, 99; Fredericktown, Mo., 118.

Plymouth, N. C., 67; engagement, 218, 219, 317; captured by Gen. Hoke, 433-434.

----, N frigate, 29.

Pocahontas, N vessel, 15.

----, Miss., 207.

Pocotaligo, S. C., 220, 439.

Poe, Orlando M., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 552.

Poindexter, ----, C col., Roan's Tanyard, Mo., 230.

Point of Rocks, Va., 28, 397.

Point Pleasant, W. Va., action, 337.

Polk, James K., President of the U. S., attitude toward slavery, 183.

----, Leonidas, C lieut.-gen., 99; port., 100; Shiloh, 103, 209; Chickamauga, 298, 303; Meridian 375; Atlanta campaign, 385; killed, Lost Mountain, 386, 451.

Pollard, E. A., quoted, 213, 316.

Pope, John, N maj.-gen., 79; New Madrid, 99; Island No. 10, 100; port., 163; commands Army of Va., 163; campaign, 163-173; map of operations, 166, 358; cartoon, 457.

Pope's campaign, 163-173.

Poplar Grove Church, ill., 350.

Port Gibson, Miss., action, 274.

Port Hudson, La., 240, 270, 271, 273; surrendered, 276, 308, 345, 391.

Port Republic, Va., action, 216; occupied by Early, 409.

Port Royal, S. C., 60, 71, 289.

Porter, Andrew, N brig.-gen., 49; at Bull Run, 55, 57.

----, David, commodore U. S. navy, 76, 90.

----, David D., N rear-adm., port., 90; at N. O., 90-95; Baton Rouge, 270; Vicksburg campaign, 271-277; Alexandria, La., 375; Grand Ecore, La., 381, 382.

----, Eliza C., Mrs., 534.

----, Fitz-John, N maj.-gen., at Harper's Ferry, 47; Peninsular campaign, 155-162; Pope's campaign, 168-170; port., 168; court-martialed, 169; Antietam, 178.

----, Horace, N b'v't brig.-gen., Fort Pulaski, 221; Chickamauga, 302; port., 530.

----, Peter A., N col., killed, 478.

----, William D., N commodore, Fort Henry, 76; port., 270.

----, ----, N col., killed, Cold Harbor, 367.

Porterfield, G. A., col., Va. vols., 44.

Portsmouth, Va., 217, 329.

----, N vessel, at N. O., 90, 92.

Posey, Carnot, C brig.-gen., Bristoe Sta., Va., 334.

Potomac, Army of the, commanded by McClellan, 45, 165, 169, 175; commanded by Burnside, 193; commanded by Hooker, 241; commanded by Meade, 250; pursues Lee, 258; Grant's headquarters, 351, 353; organization, 354; advance on Petersburg, 397; defence of Washington, 402; review in Washington, 450; in winter quarters, ill., 499.

---- River, surveyed, 234; aqueduct bridge, ill., 473.

Potter, Robert B., N maj.-gen., Antietam, 179; port., 401.

----, ----, N col., Tranter's Creek, N. C., 218.

Potter House, Atlanta, Ga., ill., 428.

Pound Gap, Ky., action, 223.

Powell, William H., N b'v't maj., 105.

----, ----, 33.

----, ----, N col., Wytheville, Va., 339.

Powell's River Bridge, Tenn., fight, 437.

Prairie Grove, Ark., battle, 233.

Preble, George H., N commodore, port., 370.

Preliminary Events, 5-18.

Preliminary Operations in the West, 375-382.

Prentiss, Benjamin M., N maj.-gen., Shiloh, 100-107; port., 105; speech on negro soldiers, 239; Helena, Ark., 344.

Preparation for Conflict, 19-29; in the North, 23, 35, 36.

Presidential Election (The), 412-415.

Press, Nashville, quoted, 507.

Preston, John S., C brig.-gen., port., 318.

----, William, C maj.-gen., port., 281.

Prestonburg, Ky., 73.

Price, Sterling, C maj.-gen., 39, 41; port., 45; in Mo., 79, 118, 122; in Ark., 80; Iuka, 203-206; Corinth, 206; Helena, Ark., 344.

Prince, Henry, N brig.-gen., port., 335; Robertson's Tavern, Va., 336.

Princeton, W. Va., 218.

Prisons and Escapes, 520-527.

Pryor, Roger A., C brig.-gen., 17; port., 508.

Pulaski Monument, Savannah, Ga., ill., 115.

Putnam, Douglas, Jr., N col., 107.

----, Haldimand S., N col., killed, Fort Wagner, 290.

Quantrell, W. C., C guerilla, Independence, Mo., 230; Warrensburg, Mo., 230; Lawrence, Kan., 345.

Quarantine Station, La., 95.

"Queen Caroline," 154.

Quinby, Isaac F., N brig.-gen., Vicksburg campaign, 273.

Raccoon Ford, Va., 164, 166, 336.

Radcliffe, ----, C supply agent, 510, 511.

Raids and Raiders, Union and Confederate, 528-532.

Rains, Gabriel J., C brig.-gen., port., 277.

----, James E., C brig.-gen., port., 158; killed, Murfreesboro', 211; Tazewell, Tenn., 227.

Raleigh, N. C., 441.

---- Court House, W. Va., 339.

----, C gunboat, 531.

Ramsay, George D., N brig.-gen., port., 414.

----, Joseph G., N lieut., killed at Bull Run, 59.

Ramseur, Stephen D., C maj.-gen., wounded, Spottsylvania, 362, 403; killed, Cedar Creek, Va., 410.

Randall, A. W., Gov. of Wis., port., 18.

----, James Ryder, "My Maryland," 131; "Boy Major," 333.

Randol, Alanson M., b'v't brig.-gen., 158.

Rankin's Hotel, Cynthiana, Ky., 223.

Ransom, Matthew W., C maj.-gen., port., 491.

----, Robert, Jr., C maj.-gen., Antietam, 180; port., 195.

----, Thomas E. G., N b'v't maj.-gen., 316; Sabine Cross Roads, 378.

----, ----, N lieut.-col. 22d Ill., 117.

Rappahannock Ford, Va., 166.

---- Station, Va., 166; action, 334, 335.

Raritan, N cruiser, 29.

Rations, Confederate, short, in March, 1865, 485.

Raum, Green B., N brig.-gen., port., 311.

Rawlins, John A., N b'v't maj.-gen., 107, 108; ports., 31, 552.

Raymond, Henry J., Republican convention, 412; cartoon, 462.

----, Miss., action, 274, 278.

Reagan, John H., C postmaster-genl., port., 26; captured with Davis, 448.

Realf, Richard, N lieut., Chickamauga, 301.

Reams Station, Va., action, 400.

"Rebels" (author unknown), 132.

Rectortown, Va., fight, 433.

Red River Expedition, 375-382.

Redfield, H. V., quoted, 502.

----, Jas., N lt.-col., killed, 420.

Redwood, Minn., destroyed by Indians, 234.

Reese, Harry, N sgt. at Burnside's Mine, Petersburg, 469.

Refusal of Governors of certain States to furnish troops, 36, 37.

Register, Baltimore, Md., 33.

Reilly, James W., N brig.-gen., 429.

Remington, ----, N lieut., Gettysburg, 260.

Reminiscences of the Battle of Bull Run, 472-474.

Reno, Jesse L., N maj.-gen., N. C. expedition, 72; port., 73; Pope's campaign, 164-169; killed, South Mountain, 176, 451.

Renshaw, W. B., N com'der, killed, Galveston, 348.

Republican, Lynchburg, Va., quoted, 316.

Republican Party, convention, 412.

Resaca, Ga., battle, 383, 385.

Review of the Army, 450; ill., 452.

Reynolds, John F., N maj.-gen., Cheat Mountain, 114; Pope's campaign, 166, 168; port., 250; killed, Gettysburg, 251-267, 451; monument, 552.

----, Joseph J., N maj.-gen., Chickamauga, 298, 299.

Rhode Island, 1st inf., 25, 193; Kelly's Ford, 332; 5th inf., 470.

Rice, James C., N brig.-gen., killed, Spottsylvania, 362.

Rich Mountain, W. Va., action, 45.

Richardson, Albert D., N correspondent, adventures, 520-523.

----, Israel B., N maj.-gen., 49; at Bull Run, 54; killed, Antietam, 180; port., 485.

----, William P., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 414.

Richmond, Ky., 200; battle, 224, 342.

----, Miss., 275.

----, Va., seat of C government, 9, 33; ill. of capitol, 28, 140-162, 163, 164, 193, 197, 307; Libby Prison, ills., 320, 520; prison camps, 321, 354-369, 387, 397-399; map of vicinity, 399, 402, 406; visit of peace commissioners, 412; evacuated, 445; warehouses fired, ironclads blown up, 445; occupied by Gen. Weitzel, 445; ill., 451; U. S. flag raised, 454; C cemetery, ill., 512; N cemetery, ill., 525.

----, N cruiser, at N. O., 90, 93.

Ricketts, James B., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 57; at Bull Run, 55, 57, 59; Thoroughfare Gap, 167; defence of Washington, 402.

----, R. Bruce, N capt., Gettysburg, 254, 255.

Riddle, William, N maj., Gettysburg, 267.

Riggen, ----, N private, killed, Gettysburg, 255.

Ripley, Roswell S., C brig.-gen., at Port Royal, 71; Antietam, 180.

Ripley, Miss., 206.

----, Tenn., action, 340.

Ritchie, John, N b'v't brig.-gen., Shirley's Ford, Mo., 231.

Roanoke Island, N. C., 71; map, 75, 193.

---- Sound, N. C., 71.

Roan's Tanyard, Silver Creek, Mo., engagement, 230.

Robbins, Walter R., N b'v't brig.-gen., Hawes's Shop, Va., 363, 364.

Roberts, Benjamin S., N b'v't maj.-gen., Ft. Craig, N. M., 233.

Robertson's Tavern, Va., action, 335, 336.

Robertsville, S. C., 439.

Robinson House, Bull Run, ill., 165.

Robinson, James S., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 386.

----, John C., N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 252; port., 363.

----, Samuel, N spy, executed, 529.

Rock Creek, Gettysburg, 252, 254.

Rockbridge (Va.) cavalry, 319.

Rocky Crossing, Miss., battle, 342.

Rocky Gap, Va., engagement, 333.

Rodes, Robert E., C maj.-gen., port., 146; Antietam, 180; Robertson's Tavern, 336; Ft. Stevens, D. C., 403; killed, Winchester, 407; port., 411.

Rodgers, C. R. P., N rear-adm., port., 69.

----, John, N rear-adm., port., 69; siege of Charleston, 290.

Rodman, Isaac P., N brig.-gen., killed, Antietam, 180.

Rogersville, Ky., battle, 224, 225.

Rolla, Mo., 79.

Rome, Ga., 307, 308.

Romney, W. Va., engagements, 113, 216.

Root, George F., "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," 125; "The Battle Cry of Freedom," 138.

Rosa, Rudolph, N col., Tybee Island, 220.

Rosecrans, William S., N maj.-gen., in W. Va., 45, 113; ports., 114, 204; Iuka, 203-205; Corinth, 206-209; supersedes Buell, 203, 209; Murfreesboro', 209-212, 215; Chickamauga, 297-303; superseded by Thomas, 305, 308; anecdote, 457, 481; deceived by Mrs. Col. Thomas in Tennessee, anecdote, 506.

Rosengarten, Joseph G., N maj., Gettysburg, 266.

Ross, Anna M., Miss, 538.

----, John, chief Cherokee Indians, 81.

----, Marion A., N spy, executed, 529.

Rosser, Thomas L., C maj.-gen., Wilderness, 356; Tom's Brook, Va., 410; Rectortown, Va., 433; port., 491.

Rossville, Ga., 299, 301.

Rough and Ready, Ga., 422.

Round Mountain, Ala., iron-works burned, 296.

Round Top, Gettysburg, 252, 263, 265.

Rousseau, Lovell H., N maj.-gen., 41; Perryville, 201; port., 205; Murfreesboro', 212, 213.

Rober, Tenn., action, 340.

Rowan, Stephen C., N vice-adm., 15; N. C. expedition, 72; port., 73; siege of Charleston, 293.

Rowlett's Station, Ky. (see Munfordville).

Royall, William B., N capt., 151.

Rubadeau, ----, N sergt., killed, Spottsylvania, 361.

Ruffin, Edmund, 15.

Ruger, Thomas H., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 386.

Ruggles, Daniel, C brig.-gen., Shiloh, 103; Rocky Crossing, Miss., 342.

Runyon, Theodore, N brig.-gen., 49.

Rural Hills, Tenn., engagement, 229.

Russell, David A., N b'v't maj.-gen., Rappahannock Sta., 335; killed, Winchester, 407; port., 411.

----, John, Lord, favors the Confederacy, 269.

----, ----, Earl, neutrality discussion, 372, 373.

Russia, friendly to the United States, 66.

Sabine Cross Roads, La., battle, 377, 378.

Sacramento, Ky., engagement, 115.

Safford, Mary J., Miss, 538; port., 539.

Sailor's Creek, Va., engagement, 446.

St. Helena Island, S. C., 69, 71.

St. Joseph, Mo., 38.

St. Louis, Mo., 37; loyal Germans, 41, 392.

St. Louis and Cincinnati R. R., 140.

St. Luke's Hospital, New York, draft riot, 285.

St. Michael's Church, Charleston, S. C., ill., 294.

St. Peter's Church, near White House, Va., ill., 155.

Salem, Mo., 122.

Salem Heights, Va., battle, 243.

Salisbury, N. C., prison camps, 321, 440, 520.

Salkehatchie River, S. C., fight, 440.

Sanders, William P., N brig.-gen., killed, Knoxville, 342; port., 480.

----, ----, N col., Somerset, Ky., 340.

Sandford, ----, N b'v't maj.-gen., at Harper's Ferry, 47.

Sandusky, O., Lake Erie raid, 528.

Sanitary and Christian Commissions (The), 324-328.

Sanitary Commission, 324-328; port., group officers, 326; ill. of headquarters, 327, 448; ill. of hospital, 540.

San Jacinto, N frigate, 63; ill., 63.

Santa Fé, N. M., 233.

Satraps, 283.

Savage's Station, Va., battle, 158.

Savannah, Ga., 32; Pulaski Monument, ill., 115, 220, 289, 290, 423; riot, 436, 439; President Davis a prisoner, 448.

----, Tenn., 101.

Sawyer, Charles C., "When this cruel war is over," 127.

----, Henry W., N capt., Libby Prison, 348, 349.

Saxton, Rufus, N b'v't maj.-gen., 239; port., 414.

Scales, Alfred M., C brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 259.

Scarytown, W. Va., 113.

Schenck, Robert C., N maj.-gen., 49; Bull Run, 55; Shenandoah Valley, 216; port., 217.

----,----, N sergt., killed, Spottsylvania, 361.

Schiller, J. C. F. von, quoted, 498.

Schimmelpfennig, Alex., N brig.-gen., occupies Charleston, 440.

Schoepf, Albin, N brig.-gen., Camp Wildcat, 73, 114.

Schofield, John M., N maj.-gen., 41; Atlanta campaign, 383-387; port., 385; with Thomas at Nashville, 421; Franklin, 427-430; joins Sherman at Goldsboro', 441.

Schurz, Carl, N maj.-gen., port., 254.

Schuyler, Philip, Jr., N maj., 24.

Scott, John, N spy, executed, 529.

----, John S., C col., Somerset, Ky., 339, 340.

----, Thomas M., C brig.-gen., port., 341.

----, Winfield, N b'v't lieut.-gen., port., 12, 20, 38, 48, 49, 52, 53, 54; retires, 140; attitude toward Sanitary Commission, 324.

Scribner, Benjamin F., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 302.

Searcy Landing, Little Red River, Ark., engagement, 231.

Secession, contemplated, 7; begun by South Carolina, ordinances by other States, 9.

Secessionville, S. C., battle, 219; ill., 221.

"Secret History of the Confederacy," quoted, 316.

Sectional feeling a cause of the war, 7.

Sedgwick, John, N maj.-gen., Antietam, 178, 180; Fredericksburg, 241, 242, 243; port., 242; Salem Heights, 243; Gettysburg, 252, 259, 262; Rappahannock Sta., 334, 335; Wilderness, 354; Spottsylvania, 358; killed, 359; ill., 360, 451.

Seeley's Battery, losses, 483.

Seelye, Miss ("Frank Thompson"), N private 2d Mich. inf., 470.

Selma, Ala., 375.

Seminary Ridge, Gettysburg, 251-256.

Semmes, Paul J., C brig.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 259.

----, Raphael, C rear-adm., 9; commands "Alabama," 371; battle with "Kearsarge," 372; port., 372.

Sequatchie Valley, Tenn., 226.

Serrell, Edward W., N b'v't brig.-gen., siege of Charleston, 294.

Seven Days, 160.

Seven Pines, Va., battle, 146.

Sevierville, Tenn., fight near, 436.

Seward, William H., N Secy. of State, port., 6, 65; emancipation, 189; criticised by Gurowski, 237, 283; letter to Minister Adams, 372-374, 375; with Lincoln at Ft. Monroe, 441; attacked by an assassin, 449.

----, William H., Jr., N brig.-gen., port., 362, 478.

Seymour, Horatio, Gov. of New York, opposed to the war, 284; port., 285; speech to rioters, 287; Democratic convention, 413.

----, Thomas H., proposed for president, 413.

----, Truman, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 11; at Sumter, 11; 2d Bull Run, 169; Wilderness, 357; Olustee, Florida, 436.

Shackelford, James M., N brig.-gen., East Tenn., 341.

Shadrack, Perry G., N spy, executed, 529.

Shady Grove Church, Spottsylvania, 359.

Shaler, Alexander, N b'v't maj.-gen., 24; port., 35; Wilderness, 357.

Sharpsburg, Md., Antietam campaign, 175-179.

Shaw, Jas., Jr., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 552.

----, Robert G., N col., port., 238; commands first colored regiment, 239; killed, Fort Wagner, 24, 239, 290; courage, 291.

----, William T., N col., Pleasant Hill, 379.

----, ---- N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Shelby, Joseph O., C brig.-gen., 437.

Shelbyville, Tenn., 510, 529.

Shenandoah, C cruiser, 372.

----, Army of the, commanded by Sheridan, 405.

---- City, Va., 111.

---- Valley, 143-152, 163, 193; campaign, 216; invaded, 250; Lee's retreat, 333, 353, 368, 402; Sheridan's operations, 405-411; map, 407.

Shepherdstown, W. Va., 177, 180, 250, 319.

Sheridan, Philip H., N maj.-gen., Perryville, 201; port., 203; Murfreesboro', 210; cavalry superiority, 250; Chickamauga, 299, 301; Chattanooga, 309; Wilderness, 354-356; port., 356; Todd's Tavern, 358; Yellow Tavern, 359; North Anna, 363; Cold Harbor, 365; Shenandoah Valley, 404-411; port., 408; Trevilian Station and Gordonsville, Va., 433; raid on the upper James, 442; Five Forks, 443-445; reconnoitering at Five Forks, ill., 444; stops Lee's retreat at Appomattox C. H., 446, 451; on the James, 486; quoted, 518.

---- in the Shenandoah, 405-411.

Sherman, Thomas W., N b'v't maj.-gen., 69; port., 71.

----, William T., N gen., ports., 30, 519; under first fire, 39, 49; at Bull Run, 55, 57; Shiloh, 100-108; Vicksburg campaign, 271-275; Chattanooga, 305-314; Knoxville, 342; under Grant, 351-353; quoted, 358; Meridian, Miss., 375; "Hairpins," 375; Atlanta campaign, 383-390; Resaca, 385; Kenesaw Mountain, 387; plans, capture of Mobile, 391, 397; "March to the Sea," 419-430; correspondence with Gen. Hood and mayor of Atlanta, 419; instructions for the march, 422; march through the Carolinas, 439-441; receives Johnston's surrender at Durham Station, 446; army reviewed in Washington, 450, 451; anecdotes, 456, 458, 513, 517; quoted, 515; (sketch), 518.

---- and his generals, history suggested by picture, group of, 513-519.

Shields, James, N b'v't maj.-gen., 143; port., 152; Winchester, 216; Port Republic, 216, 217; port., 219.

Shiloh, Tenn., battle, 101-109; map, 104.

---- Church, 101; ill., 103.

Ship Island, Miss., 91; ill., 92.

Shipping Point, Potomac River, ill., 146.

Shirley's Ford, Spring River, Mo., engagement, 231.

Shreveport, La., 270, 271; capture attempted by Banks, 375; Gen. Kirby Smith surrenders the last Confederate army at, 446.

Shufeldt, Robert W., N naval com'd., port., 370.

Sibley, Henry H., C brig.-gen., port., 231; Fort Craig, N. M., 233.

----, ----, N brig.-gen., Indian campaign, 234.

Sibley tents, 496.

Sickles, Daniel E., N maj.-gen., Chancellorsville, 241-246; Gettysburg, 252-266; port., 262, 361, 479.

Siege of Charleston, The, 288-294.

Sigel, Franz, N maj.-gen., Carthage, 41; Pea Ridge, 80; Pope's campaign, 163-168; port., 168, 172; under Grant, 353; Newmarket, W. Va., 433.

Signal Hill, Chattanooga, 313.

---- Station, near Washington, ill., 431.

Sill, Joshua W., N brig.-gen., killed, Murfreesboro', 211; port., 483, 529.

Silver Creek, Mo., engagement, 230.

Simpson, ----, N col., Charlestown. Va., 334.

Sioux Indians, atrocities, 234.

Slack, William Y., C brig.-gen., Pea Ridge, 80.

Slater, ----, N lieut., 437.

Slavens, Samuel, N spy, executed, 529.

Slavery, a cause of the war, 5, 182.

Slemmer, Adam J., N b'v't brig.-gen., 10.

Slidell, John, 63; port., 65.

Slocum, Henry W., N maj.-gen., port., 30, 518; Chancellorsville, 243, 250; Gettysburg, 252; succeeds Hooker, 390; Atlanta, 390, 420; in march to the sea, 422; Averysboro', 441; Bentonville, 441, 513; (sketch), 518.

Small, Jerusha R., Mrs., 539.

Smith, Andrew J., N maj.-gen., Alexandria, La., 375; Pleasant Hill, 378, 379.

----, A. J., N maj., Cedar Creek, Va., 411.

----, Caleb B., N Secy. of the Interior, port., 6.

----, Charles F., N maj.-gen., 75; Fort Donelson, 77; port., 79; Shiloh, 100.

----, Edmund Kirby, C gen., invades Ky., 223, 224; Richmond, Ky., 224; port., 225; Pleasant Hill, 379; surrender at Shreveport, La., 446.

----, Gerrit, gives bail for Davis, 448.

----, Giles A., N maj.-gen., Atlanta, 389.

----, Goldwin, 66.

----, Gustavus W., C maj.-gen., Fair Oaks, 150, 151; port., 427.

----, Joseph, N rear-adm., port., 84.

----, Morgan L., N brig.-gen., Atlanta, 389.

----, Patrick, N private, Bayou Teche, La., 348.

----, Preston, C maj.-gen., killed, Chickamauga, 299.

----, T. Kilby, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 378; Pleasant Hill, 379.

----, William, C maj.-gen., port., 508.

----, William F., N maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 143; Cold Harbor, 365; advance on Petersburg, 397.

----, William Sooy, N brig.-gen., raid from Memphis, 375.

----, ----, N lieut., Lookout Mt., 313.

----, ----, N ensign, recaptured, 322.

Smyth, Thomas A., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 357.

Snake Creek Gap, Ga., 385.

Sneedsboro', S. C., 440.

Snicker's Gap, Va., 406.

Snow Hill, Tenn., battle, 295, 341.

Snyder, George W., N 1st lieut., port., 11; at Sumter, 11.

Solferino, Italy, 23, 169.

Somerset, Ky., action, 339, 340.

Sons of America, 521.

Sons of Liberty, 528.

Soule, Pierre, 96.

South Carolina, Nullification Acts of, 7; secedes, 9; 1st inf., Antietam, 180; colored regiment, 185; 8th C inf. captured, 406; 18th and 72d inf. at Petersburg mine, 470.

----, regimental losses, 1st inf., 483; 7th, 17th, 23d, 12th inf., 484.

South Carolina railroad destroyed, 440.

South Mountain, Md., battle, 176.

Southampton, Eng., 372.

Southern life under blockade, 425.

Southfield, N gunboat, Plymouth, N. C., 434.

Southside Railroad, Va., 443.

Southwest Pass, Miss. River, La., 91.

Speed, ----, N lieut., quoted, 429.

Spencer, R. H., Mrs., port., 537, 538.

Sperryville, Va., 163.

Spies and scouts, Northern, 507-512.

----, Southern, 505-507.

Spinola, Francis B., N brig.-gen., Manassas Gap, 333.

Spottsylvania, Va., 358; battle, 359-362, 470; losses at, 477; Kilpatrick's raid, 531.

Sprague, William, gov. of R. I., port., 18.

Spring Place, Ga., 385.

Springfield, Ill., 38.

----, Mo., 41, 79; engagement, 118-121; ill., 120; action, 344.

Springfield Landing, La., 379.

Stafford, ----, N sergt., Gettysburg, 255.

Stahel, Julius X., N maj.-gen., Cross Keys, 216; port., 218, 268.

Standard, Raleigh, N. C., quoted, 431.

Stanley, David S., N b'v't maj.-gen., Iuka, 203, 204; Corinth, 206, 207; Murfreesboro', 211; port., 212; Snow Hill, Tenn., 295, 305, 341; Bradyville, 340; Atlanta campaign, 386; with Thomas at Nashville, 421.

Stannard, George J., N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 259, 262.

Stannard's Battery, Camp Wild Cat, 114.

Stansbury Hill, Fredericksburg, 199.

Stanton, Edwin M., N sec'y of war, port., 6, 48, 143, 154, 295, 349, 405; cartoon, 463; offers reward for arrest of Booth and accomplices, 510.

Star of the West, N vessel, 5, 14.

"Star Spangled Banner," 122.

Starke, William E., C brig.-gen., killed, Antietam, 180.

State sovereignty, a cause of the war, 5, 7, 35.

Statesville, Tenn., action, 340.

Staunton, Va., devastated by Hunter, 317, 318; by Torbert, 409.

Steadman, N capt., 71.

Stedman, Griffin A., Jr., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 362.

Steedman, James B., N maj.-gen., port., 301; Chickamauga, 302, 303.

Steel, ----, N maj., Warrenton Junction, 331.

Steele, Frederick, N maj.-gen., Vicksburg campaign, 271.

Steele's Bayou, Miss., 273.

Stein, ----, C, killed, Prairie Grove, 233.

Steinwehr, Adolph von, N brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 252; port., 255.

Stephens, Alexander H., C vice-pres., port., 28; speech against secession, 31; speech defending slavery, 32; writing about effect of Lincoln's proclamation of rebellion, 35; speech, Charlotte, N. C, 307; peace commissioner, 441.

----, Malvina, N guide, 521.

Stevens, Aaron F., N b'v't brig.-gen., Fredericksburg, 199.

----, Alanson J., N lieut., Gettysburg, 254.

----, Atherton H., Jr., N maj., 454.

----, Isaac I., N maj.-gen., killed, Chantilly, Va., 169 and 479; Secessionville, 219.

----, Thaddeus, M. C., financial proposition, 416.

Stevensburg, Va., 165.

Stevenson, Carter L., C maj.-gen., port., 275.

----, Thomas G., N brig.-gen., killed, Spottsylvania, 362.

Stewart, Alexander P., C lieut.-gen., port., 313.

----, George H., C brig.-gen., captured, Spottsylvania, 359, 362.

----, William C., N color-bearer, Lebanon, Tenn., 229.

----, ----, N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Stiles, Israel N., N b'v't brig.-gen., 429.

Stimers, ----, engineer, "Monitor," 85.

Stimpson, ----, N, Bolivar Heights, 111.

Stiner, J. H., balloonist, 162.

Stokes, James H., N capt., Murfreesboro', 212.

Stone, Charles P., N brig.-gen., 20, 22; port., 29; at Harper's Ferry, 47; Ball's Bluff, 109; Sabine Cross Roads, 377.

----, Ray, N b'v't brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 251.

Stone Bridge (Bull Run), 52, 53, 54, 55, 60; ill., 172.

---- House (Bull Run), ill., 58.

---- River, Tenn., battle, 209-213; ill., 202; _Map_, 211, 308.

Stoneman, George, N maj.-gen., Warrenton, Va., 331; captured, Clifton, Ga., 390.

Stoner, ----, N ensign, recaptured, 322.

Stoughton, Charles B., N b'v't brig.-gen., captured, Fairfax C. H., Va., 331.

Stovall, Marcellus A., N brig.-gen., port., 303.

Stowe, Mrs. Harriet Beecher, port., 189.

Strahl, Oscar F., N brig.-gen., killed, 430.

Stranahan, Mrs. James S. T., port., 539, 540.

Strasburg, Va., 28, 409, 410.

Streight, Abel D., N b'v't brig.-gen., raid in Ala. and capture, 295.

Stringham, Silas H., N rear-adm., port., 66, 68.

Strong, George C., N maj.-gen., killed, Fort Wagner, 290.

----, George T., Sanitary Commission, 325.

----, William E., N b'v't brig.-gen., ports., 277, 418.

Stuart, George H., Christian Commission, 326.

----, James E. B., C lieut.-gen., at Bull Run, 60; Bunker Hill, 111; Peninsular campaign, 150-152; port., 158; operations against Pope, 164-166, 192; Chancellorsville, 242; Culpeper, 249; Aldie, Va., 250; Gettysburg, 259, 267, 268; in Va., 232; Wilderness, 354; Yellow Tavern, 359, 451.

----, ----, N lieut.-col., Chattanooga, 314.

Sturgis, Russell, 15.

----, Samuel D., N b'v't maj.-gen., 41; Antietam, 179; Fair Gardens, Tenn., 436; port., 437.

Sudley Ford (Bull Run), 54, 55, 61.

---- Mill (Bull Run), 167; ill., 169.

---- Road (Bull Run), 54, 55, 57.

---- Springs, Va., 169.

Suffolk, Va., _Map_ of vicinity, 141; actions, 329, 331.

Sugar Creek, Ark., 80; action, 231.

Sugar Valley, Ga., occupied by McPherson, 385.

Sullivan, Jeremiah C., N brig.-gen., Iuka, 203.

Sullivan's Island, Charleston harbor, 11, 292.

Sully, Alfred, N b'v't maj.-gen., Whitestone Hill, Dak., 348.

Sulphur Springs, Va., 166, 333.

Sultana, N steamer, fatal explosion, 468.

Summerton (Chattanooga), 314.

Sumner, Charles, port., 189, 375.

----, Edwin V., N maj.-gen., 49; Peninsular campaign, 143-158; port., 152; 2d Bull Run, 169; Antietam, 177-179; port., 192; Burnside's campaign, 193.

Sumter, C cruiser, abandoned, Gibraltar, 372.

Surratt, John H., reward offered for arrest, 510.

Surrender of Lee, ill., 447.

Susquehanna, N cruiser, 68.

Swamp Angel, 294.

Sweeden's Cove, Ala., engagement, 226.

Sweeting, Harry, C cav., Warrenton Junction, 331.

Switzerland, N ram, Waterproof, La., 437.

Sykes, George, N maj.-gen., at Bull Run, 55; Gettysburg, 252, 265, 266; quoted, 479.

Tacony, C cruiser, 372.

Talbot, Theodore, N 1st lieut., port., 11; at Sumter, 11.

Taliaferro, William B., C brig.-gen., 28; port., 293.

Tallahassee, C cruiser, 372.

Tammany regiment, N. Y., 42d inf., 109.

Taney, Roger B., U. S. chief-justice, 43, 186, 284.

Taneytown, Md., 252.

Taylor, Benjamin F., correspondent, describes battle Lookout Mt., 311-314; quoted, 504.

----, C. Fred., N col., port., 484.

----, Frank E., N lieut., Pleasant Hill, La., 378.

----, Nellie M., Mrs., port., 533, 536.

----, Richard, C lieut.-gen., Sabine Cross Roads, La., 377; Pleasant Hill, 379; port., 381.

----, Samuel B., quoted, 526.

----, Walter H., C maj., port., 165.

Tazewell, Tenn., action, 227.

Tecumseh, N monitor, Mobile Bay, 391-393.

Templeman, ----, C cav., killed, Warrenton Junction, 332.

Tennessee, struggle for, 35, 44; 1st cav., Murfreesboro', 211; terrorism in, 317.

----, regimental losses, 8th inf., 483, 484; 10th, 2d, 15th, 6th, 9th, 23d, 63d, 20th, 32d, 12th, inf., 484.

----, C ironclad, Mobile Bay, 391, 392.

----, Army of the, commanded by McPherson, 383; commanded by Howard, 390.

----, Army and dept. of, C 387.

"Tenting on the old camp-ground," Walter Kittridge, 139, 413.

Tents used in camp, 496.

----, "A," 496.

----, dog, 498.

----, shelter, 498.

----, Sibley, 496.

----, wall, 496.

Terrill, William R., N brig.-gen., killed, Perryville, 201.

Terry, Alfred H., N maj.-gen., port., 290, 439; siege of Charleston, 292; Fort Fisher, 441; joins Sherman, 441.

----, B. F., C col., killed, Munfordville, 115.

----, of Texas, C spy, 505.

Texas, annexation of, 7; secedes, 9; 3d inf., Iuka, 206; 1st inf., losses, 484; 4th inf., losses, 484.

Thoburn, Joseph, N col., killed, Cedar Creek, Va., 410.

Thomas, George H., N maj.-gen., port., 49; at Mill Springs, Ky., 73; Falling Waters, 111; Murfreesboro', 210, 263; port., 298; Chickamauga, 298-302; supersedes Rosecrans, 305; Chattanooga, 308, 309; Atlanta campaign, 383-387; "Circus," 383; Peach Tree Creek, 387; organizes an army at Nashville, 421, 430, 451; anecdote, 457, 513.

----, Lorenzo, N b'v't maj.-gen., 49; address on colored soldiers, 238, 239.

----, Mrs. Col. (C), of Tenn., deceives Gen. Rosecrans, anecdote, 506.

Thompson, Francis W., N lieut.-col., Bull Pasture Mountain, 216.

----, Frank (Miss Seelye), N (female) pvt., 2d Mich. inf., 470.

----, George, 18.

----, Jacob, U. S. sec'y of the interior, 9; conspires with (C) Lieut. S. D. Davis, 471, 528.

----, M. Jeff., C brig.-gen., Fredericktown, Mo., 118; Charlestown, Mo., 230; port., 231.

Thompson's Station, Tenn., engagement, 340.

Thoroughfare Gap, Va., 166, 167.

Tilghman, Lloyd, C brig.-gen., at Ft. Henry, 75, 76; port., 275; killed, Champion's Hill, Miss., 275.

Times, London, Eng., 62, 87, 196.

----, Wheeling, Va., 33.

Todd, H. H., N capt., 523.

Todd's Tavern, Va., engagement, 358.

Toland, John T., N col., Fayetteville, W. Va., 218; killed, Wytheville, Va., 339.

Tom's Brook, Va., action, 410.

Toombs, Robert, C sec'y of state, port., 26; C brig.-gen., Antietam, 180.

Topliff, E. A., N pvt., Parker's Cross Roads, 230.

Torbert, Alfred T. A., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 405; Shenandoah Valley, 406-410; Trevilian Sta., Va., 433.

Torrence, ----, N maj., Roan's Tanyard, Mo., 230.

Totten, Joseph G., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 35, 49.

Tourtellotte, John E., N b'v't brig.-gen., at Allatoona, 420.

Towns, ----, N capt., 318.

Townsend, Edward D., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 29, 49.

----, Frederick, N b'v't brig.-gen., at Big Bethel, 45.

Tracy, Benjamin F., N b'v't brig.-gen., 480.

"Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," George F. Root, 125.

Tranter's Creek, N. C., battle, 218.

Trebra, ----, N lieut.-col., 32d Ind., 115.

Trent, British steamer, 63; ill., 63, 65.

Trent affair, 63, 65.

Trenton, Tenn., captured by Forrest, 229.

Trevilian Station, Va., ill., 432.

Tribune, Cincinnati, quoted, 526.

----, New York, N. Y., 186; office attacked by rioters, 286; correspondents captured, 520.

Trobriand, P. Regis de, N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 262; Gettysburg, 265, 266.

Trobriand's (de) Zouaves, 499.

Trumbull, Henry C. (Rev.), captured, Ft. Wagner, 291, 292.

Tullahoma, Tenn., 297.

Tunnel, Libby Prison, 521.

Tunnel Hill, Ga., fortified by Johnston, 383.

Turchin, John B., N brig.-gen., port., 311.

----, Mrs. John B., 470.

Turkey Bend, Va., 159.

Turner, Nat, insurrection, 448.

----, R. R., C maj., keeper Libby Prison, port., 321.

Turner's Gap, Md., 176, 177.

Tuscaloosa, Ala., 316.

Tuscarora, N gunboat, Gibraltar, 372.

Twiggs, David E., U. S. brig.-gen., 35, 49.

Tybee Island, Ga., 220, 221.

Tyler, Daniel, N brig.-gen., 49; at Bull Run, 53, 54, 55.

----, Erastus B., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 57.

----, Robert O., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 362; Spottsylvania, 362; Cold Harbor, 367; defence of Washington, 402.

Tyler, N gunboat, Shiloh, 101; Helena, Ark., 344.

----, Tex., prison camps, 321.

Union City, Tenn., 225; action, 226.

Union Mills Ford (Bull Run), 52.

Union Square, New York, N. Y., mass meeting, 236.

United States Ford, Chancellorsville, 246.

Upperville, Va., action, 250, 267.

Upton, Emory, N b'v't maj.-gen., Spottsylvania, 359; port., 367, 480.

Ute Indians, Ft. Halleck, Idaho, 348.

Vallandigham, Clement L., M. C., opposes emancipation, 190; opposition to Lincoln, 283; banishment, 284; port., 285; Democratic convention, 413.

Valparaiso, 90.

Van Allen, James H., N brig.-gen., port., 247.

Van Buren, Dr., Sanitary Commission, 324.

Vance, Robert B., C brig.-gen., port., 213.

----, Zebulon C., gov. N. C., quoted, 420.

Van Cleve, Horatio P., N b'v't maj.-gen., Chickamauga, 301.

Vanderbilt, Cornelius, gives bail for Davis, 448.

Van Dorn, Earl, C maj.-gen., Pea Ridge, 80; port., 81, 203; Corinth, 206, 207; superseded by Pemberton, 209; Holly Springs, Miss., 271; Franklin, Tenn., 295, 341.

Van Gilder, ----, N ord.-sergt., Spottsylvania, 361.

Van Pelt farmhouse, Bull Run, hospital, 464-465.

Van Wyck, Charles H., N brig.-gen., port., 147.

Varuna, N cruiser, at N. O., 93; ill., 94.

Vaught's Hill, Tenn., action, 340, 341.

Verdiersville, Va., 164.

Vermilion Bayou, La., ills. of battle, 330, 343; battle, 347.

Vermont, 1st and 5th cav., Kettle Run, Va., 331; 8th inf., losses at Cedar Creek, 478; 1st hvy. art'y, losses, 478; 2d inf., losses, 478; 4th inf., losses in Wilderness, 478; Newport News, anecdote, 502.

Vesey, Denmark, insurrection, 448.

Vicksburg, Miss., campaign, 270-282; _Map_, 271; ill., 280, 295, 307, 308, 322, 350, 375.

---- campaign, The, 270-282.

Viele, Egbert L., N brig.-gen., 24; Norfolk, 217; port., 221.

Vienna, Va., 52.

Vigintal crop, the, 33.

Vincent, Strong, N brig.-gen., Gettysburg, 252, 261; killed, 254.

Virginia, invaded by John Brown, 7; secedes, 9, 33; measures for defence, 27; slave industry, 32; struggle for, 44; C 1st cav., Kelly's Ford, 332; N 13th inf., Point Pleasant, 337; C 54th inf., anecdote, 468.

----, regimental losses, 17th, 32d, 4th inf., 484.

----, C ironclad (see "Merrimac").

----, Army of, 163.

----, Northern, Army of, C, Gettysburg, 262; retreat, 334, 335, 353; organization, 354, 387; surrender to Grant, 446.

Virginia and Tennessee R. R., 316; destroyed, 433.

Virginia Central R. R., 362, 363, 409, 531.

Virginia Military Institute burned by Hunter, 318; cadets, 433.

Vollmer, David, C, killed, Belmont, 122.

Von Borcke, ----, C, 164.

Von Gilsa, Leopold, N col., Chancellorsville, 245.

Voris, Alvin C., N b'v't maj.-gen., Fort Wagner, 291.

Wabash, N cruiser, 68, 71.

Wade, Jennie, killed, Gettysburg, 259; port., 267, 538.

----, Mary E., Mrs., port., 533.

Wadsworth, James S., N b'v't maj.-gen., Gettysburg, 267; killed, Wilderness, 356, 451.

Wagner, George D., N brig.-gen., Franklin, Tenn., 427.

Wagons, army, 504.

Wainwright, J. M., N comr., killed, Galveston, 348.

Walke, Henry, N rear-adm., Island No. 10, 99; port., 273.

Walker, J. Bryant, N capt., Atlanta, 389.

----, John G., C maj.-gen., Harper's Ferry, 175; port., 177, 220.

----, Leroy P., C sec'y of war, port., 26.

----, W. H. T., C maj.-gen., wounded, Spottsylvania, 362.

----, ----, C col., Belmont, 122.

----, ----, imprisoned, 316.

----, ----, N capt., Atlanta, 389.

Wallace, Lew, N maj.-gen., Fort Donelson, 77; Crump's Landing, 100; Shiloh, 101-108; port., 104; defence of Washington, 402, 403.

----, William H. L., N brig.-gen., Shiloh, 100, 101, 481.

Waller, Francis A., N corp., Gettysburg, 260.

Wampler, ----, imprisoned, 316.

Wapping Heights, Va., battle, 333.

War Democrats, 36.

---- humor in the South, 459-463.

---- in the West, 200-214.

---- songs, 123-139.

Ward, William T., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 423.

Ware, W. W., 349.

Waring, George E., Jr., N col., Batesville, Ark., 343.

Warner, ----, N maj., Gettysburg, 266.

----, ----, C capt., 320.

Warren, Gouverneur K., N maj.-gen., Big Bethel, 45; 2d Bull Run, 169; Gettysburg, 252-265; port., 257; Bristoe Sta., Va., 334; Mine Run, 337; Wilderness, 354; Spottsylvania, 358-361; North Anna, 362; advance on Petersburg, 400; relieved, 445, 479.

Warrensburg. Mo., 118; engagement, 230.

Warrenton, Va., 193-197.

Warrenton Junction, Va., 168; attacked by Mosby, 331; Grant escapes capture, 375.

Warrenton Turnpike (Bull Run), 52, 53, 55, 57, 60, 167; ill., 172.

Warrior, English vessel, 87.

Warwick River, Va., 143.

Washburne, Elihu B., M. C., tribute to Hancock, 261, 262.

Washington, John A., C col., killed at Cheat Mountain, 114.

----, J. B., C aide, port., 79.

Washington, D. C., C sympathizers, 19; measures for defence, 20, 22; N troops arrive, 25; Peninsular campaign, 140-162; threatened by Early, 402-404.

----, N. C., 67, 218; battle, 219.

Washington College, Va., threatened by Hunter, 318.

Washington in Danger, 402-404.

Waterloo and Gettysburg compared, 259.

Waterproof, La., fight, 437.

Watkins, Louis D., N b'v't brig.-gen., 507.

Wauhatchie, Tenn., action, 305, 313.

Waynesboro, Va., action, 409; engagement, 442.

"We are coming, Father Abraham," James Sloane Gibbons, 128, 413.

Wead, ----, N col., Cold Harbor, Va., 365; killed, 367.

Weatherby, ----, N lieut., Vicksburg, 279.

Webb, Alexander S., N b'v't maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 150-160; Gettysburg, 257, 259, 263; Bristoe Sta., Va., 334; Robertson's Tavern, 336; Spottsylvania, 362.

Webster, Fletcher, N col., killed, 477; port., 480.

----, Joseph D., N b'v't maj.-gen., Shiloh, 101, 108.

----, ----, N maj., 25th Ohio, 114.

Weed, Stephen H., N brig.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 254, 261.

Weehawken, N monitor, siege of Charleston, 289.

Weekly Spectator, London, Eng., 65.

Weitzel, Godfrey, N maj.-gen., Franklin, La., 345; Vermillion Bayou, La., 347; port., 443; occupies Richmond, Va., 445, 454.

Weldon R. R., Va., actions, 398, 400.

Welles, Gideon, N sec'y of the navy, port., 6; 49, 91.

Wells, George D., N brig.-gen., killed, Cedar Creek, Va., 410.

Wessells, Henry W., N brig.-gen., Plymouth, S. C., 433-434.

Westfield, N vessel, destroyed, Galveston, 338.

West Liberty, Ky., action, 114, 115.

West Point, Va., 158.

West Tennessee, Army of, 206.

West Virginia, admitted to the Union, 9; formation of, 44, 45; cleared of Confederate troops, 113, 114; 3d inf., Bull Pasture Mountain, 216; 7th inf., Blooming Gap, 217.

----, Army of, Shenandoah Valley, 411; 7th inf. losses, 481.

Wharton, John A., C maj.-gen., Snow Hill, Tenn., 341.

Wheeler, Joseph, C lieut.-gen., Murfreesboro', 211; port., 212; Dover, 295; Rover, Tenn., 340; Fort Donelson, 340; Vaught's Hill, 340; Atlanta, 389, 390; Confederate cavalry, 423; opposes Sherman in S. C., 440.

Wheeling, W. Va., 44, 45.

"When Johnny comes marching home," Patrick S. Gilmore, 136.

"When this cruel war is over," Charles C. Sawyer, 127, 413.

Whig, Richmond, quoted, 431.

Whilldin, ----, capt., 349.

Whipple, Amiel W., N maj.-gen., killed, Chancellorsville, 242, 247.

Whitaker, Walter C., N b'v't maj.-gen., Chickamauga, 299; Lookout Mountain, 313.

White, John H., N lieut.-col., port., 484.

----, Julius, N b'v't maj.-gen., Harper's Ferry, 176.

----, Mathew X., C capt., murdered, 319.

----, ----, N maj., Springfield, Mo., 118, 119.

White Oak Swamp, Va., battle, 158.

White House, Va., Peninsular campaign, 144-162; ill., 153; 365, 368, 531.

Whiteside, Tenn., ill. of bridge, 338.

Whitestone Hill, Dak., engagement, 348.

Whiting, William, quoted on emancipation, 190, 191.

----, W. H. C., C maj.-gen., Peninsular campaign, 155.

Whitney, Eli, cotton-gin, 5.

Whittier, John G., from "Brown of Ossawatomie," 21, 182; port., 190.

Wickham, William C., C brig.-gen., port., 434.

Wickliffe, ----, M. C., 190.

Wiedrick, Michael, N capt., Gettysburg, 254.

Wilcox, Cadmus M., C maj.-gen., port., 195; Gettysburg, 476.

Wilcox's Landing, Va., 468.

Wild, ----, C cav., Warrenton Junction, 331.

Wilderness, 335, 336, 353; ill., 354; battle, 355-357; _Map_, 355, 387; losses, 477.

Wilderness Tavern, Va., Grant's headquarters, 355.

Wilkes, Charles, N capt., 63, 65; port., 65.

Wilkeson, Frank, quoted, 358.

Willard's Hotel, Washington, D. C., 25.

Willcox, Orlando B., N maj.-gen., at Bull Run, 55, 57; port., 401.

William Aiken, U. S. revenue cutter, 10.

William and Mary College, 33.

Williams, Alpheus S., N b'v't maj.-gen., 513.

----, E. C., N ensign, Red River expedition, 382.

----, John S., C brig.-gen., port., 336.

----, Thomas, N brig.-gen., attitude toward slavery, 185; killed, Baton Rouge, 270.

----, ----, N lieut., Ft. Halleck, Idaho, 348.

Williamsburg, Va., battle, 143-144.

Williamsport, Md., 250; fight, 436.

Williston, Edward B., N lieut., Trevilian Sta., Va., 433.

Willoughby Run, Gettysburg, 251.

Willoughby's Point, Va., 217.

Willow Springs, Miss., engagement, 274.

Wilmington Island, Ga., engagement, 223.

Wilson, C. H., N lieut., Wilmington Island, 223.

----, George D., N spy, executed, 529.

----, Henry, 190.

----, James H., N maj.-gen., cavalry superiority, 250; North Anna, 363; Long Bridge, 368; Shenandoah, 407; Nashville, 430; captures Davis, 448.

----, ----, N capt., Lookout Mountain, 304.

Wilson Small, N transport, 327.

Wilson's Creek, Mo., battle, 41; ill., 42.

Winchester, Tenn., 226.

----, Va., 47, 54, 59, 113, 143, 191; engagement, 216; captured by Ewell, 250, 403; action, 404, 406; battle, 407, 409; Sheridan's ride, 410, 411.

Winder, Charles S., C brig.-gen., killed, Cedar Mountain, 164.

----, John H., C brig.-gen., port., 318; Libby Prison, 321, 349; Andersonville, 390; death, 448.

Winnebago, N monitor, Mobile Bay, 319.

Winslow, John A., N naval capt., port., 371; commands "Kearsarge" and destroys "Alabama," 372; port., 372.

Winthrop, Theodore, N maj., 24; port., 35; killed, Big Bethel, 45, 451.

Wisconsin _Infantry_, 1st, Dandridge, 436; 2d, losses, Bull Run, 477; 3d, Bolivar Heights, 111; 4th, 185; 5th, Rappahannock Sta., 335; 6th and 7th, Gettysburg, 259; 12th, Atlanta, 389; 15th, Chickamauga, 299; 16th, Atlanta, 389; 5th art'y, Perryville, 201.

----, regimental losses, 2d inf., 483; 7th inf., 483; 20th inf., 483.

Wise, Henry A., C brig-gen., in W. Va., 113; gov. of Va., port., 183.

Witherell, Mrs. E. C., 539.

Withers, Jones M., C maj.-gen., port., 108.

Wittenmeyer, Annie, Mrs., 538.

Wolford, Frank, N col., Somerset, Ky., 340.

----, F. T., N col., Philadelphia, Tenn., 342.

Woman's Contribution to the Cause, 533-540.

Women's Central Association of Relief, 324.

Wood, Robert C., N b'v't brig.-gen., Sanitary Commission, 324.

----, Thomas J., N maj.-gen., Chickamauga, 298-302; Chattanooga, 309; Atlanta campaign, 386.

Woodford, Stewart L., N b'v't brig.-gen., port., 290.

Woods, Charles R., N b'v't maj.-gen., port., 311; Atlanta, 389.

Woodsonville, Ky. (see Munfordville).

Woodstock company, 1st Vt. inf., anecdote, 502.

Wool, John E., N maj.-gen., port., 23, 49; captures Norfolk, 217.

Woolsey, Georgia M., Miss, 538.

----, Jane C., Miss, 538.

Worden, John L., N rear-adm., N. C. expedition, 72; "Monitor," 85; port., 87; destroys the "Nashville," 348.

Work, Henry C., "Marching through Georgia," 129; "Grafted into the Army," 137.

Wormeley, Katherine P., Miss, 537.

Wright, Ambrose R., C maj.-gen., Antietam, 180.

----, Horatio G., N maj.-gen., Secessionville, 219; Rappahannock Sta., 335; Spottsylvania, 359, 362; North Anna, 362, 363; Cold Harbor, 365; advance on Petersburg, 398; defence of Washington, 404; port., 405; Cedar Creek, 410, 411, 445.

Wyatt's, Miss., action, 343.

Wyndham, Percy, N col., Harrisonburg, 216; port., 218.

Wynkoop, ----, N lieut., Hawes's Shop, Va., 364.

Wytheville, Va., action, 339.

Yankee, N steam-tug, 29.

Yates, Richard, gov. of Ill., port., 18.

Yazoo City, Miss., 273.

Yazoo Pass, Miss., 273.

Yellow Medicine, Minn., destroyed by Indians, 234.

Yellow Tavern, Va., action, 359.

York, Pa., occupied by Lee, 250, 251.

Yorktown, Va., 143; ills. of battery, 149, 151, 463.

Young, Francis G., N capt., Ball's Bluff, 110.

----, Pierce M. B., C maj.-gen., port., 508.

----, ----, N adjt., Gettysburg, 255.

----, ----, N eng. corps, Pleasant Hills, La., 379.

Young Men's Christian Association, 325.

Young's Branch (Bull Run), 55, 57.

Zagonyi, Charles, N maj., cav., Springfield, Mo., 118-121; port., 121.

Zelitch, ----, N ensign, Mobile Bay, 393.

Zollicoffer, Felix K., C brig.-gen., Camp Wild Cat, 73, 114; killed, Fishing Creek, 73; port., 77, 451.

Zook, Samuel K., N b'v't maj.-gen., killed, Gettysburg, 254; port., 261.

Zouaves, "Duryea's," 24; "Chicago," 25; "Fire," 25, 61; "Hawkins'," 72, 218; ill., 198.

{551} [Illustration: (handwritten) A. Lincoln.]