A Woman's Wartime Journal During Sherman's March Through Georgia - Part 3

DOLLY SUMNER LUNT (Mrs. Thomas Burge)

AUGUST 2, 1864.

Just as I got out of bed this morning Aunt Julia [a slave] called me to look down the road and see the soldiers. I peeped through the blinds, and there they were, sure enough, the Yankees--the blue coats!

I was not dressed. The servant women came running in. "Mistress, they are coming! They are coming! They are riding into the lot! There are two coming up the steps!"

I bade Rachel [a slave] fasten my room door and go to the front door and ask them what they wanted. They did not wait for that, but came in and asked why my door was fastened. She told them that the white folks were not up. They said they wanted breakfast, and that quick, too.

"Thug" [short for "Sugar," the nickname of a little girl, Minnie Minerva Glass, now Mrs. Joe Carey Murphy of Charlotte, North Carolina, who had come to pass the night with Sadai] and Sadai, as well as myself, were greatly alarmed. As soon as I could get on my clothing I hastened to the kitchen to hurry up breakfast. Six of them were there talking with my women. They asked about our soldiers and, passing themselves off as Wheeler's men, said:

"Have you seen any of our men go by?"

"Several of Wheeler's men passed last evening. Who are you?" said I.

"We are a portion of Wheeler's men," said one.

"You look like Yankees," said I.

"Yes," said one, stepping up to me; "we are Yankees. Did you ever see one before?"

"Not for a long time," I replied, "and none such as you." [These men, Mrs. Burge says further, were raiders, Illinois and Kentucky men of German origin. They left after breakfast, taking three of her best mules, but doing no further injury.]

To-night Captain Smith of an Alabama regiment, and a squad of twenty men, are camped opposite in the field. They have all supped with me, and I shall breakfast with them. We have spent a pleasant evening with music and talk. They have a prisoner along. I can't help feeling sorry for him.

AUGUST 5, 1864.

Mr. Ward has been robbed by the Yankees of his watch, pencil, and shirt.

Eleven Days in the Militia - Part 3

A. Militiaman

Sunday, September 14. 

Went down town with Dr. B. to look after something to replenish our depleted commissary stores. The Doctor was acquainted with a family named Feger, in Walnut Street, near the river, whose son was a student of medicine, and suggested a call. We accordingly visited them, and were kindly provided with a good meal and a quantity of cigars.

The young student conducted us to a bakery, where we laid in a supply of crackers. Returned to camp. 

Our company had been attached to the Second Regiment of Militia, as Company "G." The Colonel was John L. Wright, of Columbia. There were ten companies, mostly full, from Columbia, West Chester, Reading, Pottsville, and Lancaster City and County. 

The First Regiment, commanded by Colonel Henry McCormick, and containing companies from Harrisburg, Philadelphia, and Chester and Lebanon counties, had already been sent off down the Cumberland Valley Railroad to Chambersburg. At 11 o'clock we received marching orders for the same place, and about 1-½ P.M. the regiment proceeded out to near Camp Curtin and got aboard a train of freight cars, which had been provided with seats for the transportation of troops. 

A long delay, with the explanation of which we were not furnished, ensued; but about 3 the train started. A halt of an hour or more was made in town. A tremendous and enthusiastic crowd was out to see us off. Moved over the Long Bridge and stopped another half hour west of the Susquehanna. Chambersburg, our destination, was fifty-two miles distant. 

Passed successively through Mechanicsburg, Carlisle, and Shippensburg, at each of which places short stops were made. Were struck with the great natural beauty of the Cumberland Valley region. Crowds of people came out to the stations to meet us, and black and white, old and young, all joined in the heartiest demonstrations of welcome. 

Were also greeted from the houses and roadsides all along the line by people waving their handkerchiefs and swinging their hats. At Mechanicsburg a whole girls' school was out to see us. This was a specially engaging sight to some of our number, who thought that that village would be a good place to camp. 

At Carlisle I met Mr. R.S., whom I knew. The elite of the town were at the station, and S. pointed out to me the leading beauties of the place--I mean the ladies. 

Soldiers of a day, we already began, in the midst of these inspiring scenes, to feel like real veterans. Between stops the men beguiled the time singing, jesting, smoking, etc., and every one was in the best possible humor. Private T.H., among the rest, favored the company with a curious song in Pennsylvania Dutch called "Babbel Maul," which performance his delighted auditors compelled him frequently to repeat. 

It was generally agreed that the most desirable way of marching was by railroad. 

Dusk deepened into night, and at about 9 o'clock Chambersburg was reached. Proceeded a mile or two below the town, when the train halted in a wood brightly illuminated with camp-fires, and resonant with the cheers of soldiers. 

Disembarked and went into camp. Rigged the tents, built fires, mounted the large cooking kettles with which we had been furnished at Harrisburg, boiled coffee and got our supper--"grub" is the military term for it. 

No news of any account from Maryland. My two comrades of the night before and myself constructed a sort of crib with fence rails put up between adjoining trees, and, after a smoke, laid ourselves up in it to sleep. The arrangement worked well, and we slept comfortably in this rustic bedstead until 5 A.M.

ELEVEN DAYS IN THE MILITIA - Part 2

A. MILITIAMAN

Saturday, September 13. According to orders, the company met at the rendezvous at 10 o'clock A.M. equipped for the march. The morning had been busily occupied in getting ready for the departure. The leave-taking with our friends had not been unmingled with feelings of solemnity, in view of the possibility that we might never see them again. The day was fine, and a large crowd of people congregated in the streets to see us off. On Penn Square, in front of the Provost Marshal's office, at the old Bell mansion, the pavement was blocked, as it had been for several days past, with applicants for exemption from the draft. The medical examinations were then in progress. We marched to the lower depot, headed by a band, and accompanied by the crowd. The company itself was wholly unprovided with music of any sort. Left by the regular morning passenger train for Harrisburg. In another car there was also a militia company from Pottsville, commanded by Captain David A. Smith, which had left home the same morning. All the men were in good spirits. Some amusement was afforded by a comparison of our accoutrements. The majority of the company were unarmed, and the only insignia of a regular military organization were the swords and sashes of the officers. The news by the morning papers still continued exciting. The army was said to be preparing to engage the rebels in Maryland, as no time was to be lost in checking

their advance.

The trip was without incident. Arriving at Harrisburg at 1-½ P.M., we were formed and marched to the State Capitol grounds. A scene of great activity was here presented. The people seemed everywhere to be flocking to arms. The Governor and the Adjutant-General were personally superintending the organization of the militia. Secretary Slifer and Colonel A.K. McClure were also actively engaged in the same work. We were much relieved to find that we were to be furnished with arms and equipments by the State, as our force was far from effective in its present shape. At the State Arsenal, on the Capitol grounds, we were supplied with Springfield muskets, knapsacks, haversacks, and canteens. Delivered up our old guns to be returned home. The muskets and bayonets, on first introduction, were handled with some curiosity. As there were no scabbards provided for the latter, the bayonets had to be carried fixed to the pieces. Of ammunition there was none on hand at present, but it was stated that a supply would be sent after us. Nothing was said about swearing us into service. The day was likely to be consumed in regimental organization, and it was probable we should not get off before the morrow. Some of our men had expected to meet the rebels before night. Fortunately for us, we still had some eighty miles the advantage of them.

The first charge was upon our bags of provisions. My haversack had been bountifully stocked by my good landlady at home, Mrs. B., whose liberality as a provider and kindness of heart will always be held in grateful remembrance by her guests. The foresight of the Governor in mentioning in his proclamation the subject of rations, was generally commended, as little or nothing eatable seemed to be obtainable in this town since its occupation as a militia camp.

Our company was assigned quarters on the east side of the Capitol grounds, upon the lawn in the rear of the public buildings. Passed the afternoon in watching the arrival of several additional companies, strolling around the Park, and looking through the Capitol buildings. Several of us climbed the stairway to the dome. Another charge on the haversacks about 5 P.M. Began to wonder where or how we were to pass the night. Our efficient Quartermaster, L.M.; at length solved the problem. He procured a lot of shelter tents, which were distributed, and the work of setting them up commenced. A little straw was brought from somewhere and put in for a bottom. Took a stroll through the town in the evening with Messrs. G., E., S., and others, visiting the railroad depots, which were just then scenes of particular activity. Stopped on the way at a lager beer saloon, which powerfully recalled home associations. Returned to the grounds and answered to roll-call about 10 P.M. Crawled into a tent with Dr. B. and J.R.K. A regiment or two was encamped around us. No military rules were as yet promulgated, and it was very evident that none were to be observed that night. Chaos reigned supreme. Singing, speech-making, and practical jokes of all kinds filled in the hours usually devoted to sleep, while the arrival of fresh companies, from time to time, appeared to stimulate the orgies as the night advanced. Slept a couple of hours, and until 2 A.M., when the general discomforts of the situation moved me to seek more desirable quarters. Reconnoitred the outskirts of the camp, and found a large covered coach just outside the grounds, which I got into, and having wrapped myself in my blanket, slept tolerably for several hours. The night was quite cool, and these new accommodations proved comfortable only by comparison. Got out at daylight, washed my face at a pump, answered to roll-call, and then consulted my bag of provisions. This first night's experience in "camp" suggests how few and simple are the wants of man in a military state.

A Woman's Wartime Journal During Sherman's March Through Georgia - Part 2

Dolly Sumner Lunt (Mrs. Thomas Burge)

JULY 23, 1864.

I have been left in my home all day with no one but Sadai. Have seen nothing of the raiders, though this morning they burned the buildings around the depot at the Circle [Social Circle, a near-by town]. I have sat here in the porch nearly all day, and hailed every one that passed for news. Just as the sun set here Major Ansley and family came back. They heard of the enemy all about and concluded they were as safe here as anywhere. Just before bedtime John, our boy, came from Covington with word that the Yankees had left. Wheeler's men were in Covington and going in pursuit. We slept sweetly and felt safe.

* * * * *

SUNDAY, JULY 24, 1864.

No church. Our preacher's horse stolen by the Yankees. This raid is headed by Guerrard and is for the purpose of destroying our railroads. They cruelly shot a George Daniel and a Mr. Jones of Covington, destroyed a great deal of private property, and took many citizens prisoners.

* * * * *

JULY 27, 1864.

Major Ansley and family have remained. We are feeling more settled and have begun to bring to light some of the things which we had put away.

* * * * *

JULY 28, 1864.

I rose early and had the boys plow the turnip-patch. We were just rising from breakfast when Ben Glass rode up with the cry: "The Yankees are coming. Mrs. Burge, hide your mules!" How we were startled and how we hurried the Major to his room! [The Yankees did not come that day, but it was thought best to send Major Ansley away. He left at 2 A.M.]

* * * * *

JULY 29, 1864.

Sleepless nights. The report is that the Yankees have left Covington for Macon, headed by Stoneman, to release prisoners held there. They robbed every house on the road of its provisions, sometimes taking every piece of meat, blankets and wearing apparel, silver and arms of every description. They would take silk dresses and put them under their saddles, and many other things for which they had no use. Is this the way to make us love them and their Union? Let the poor people answer whom they have deprived of every mouthful of meat and of their livestock to make any! Our mills, too, they have burned, destroying an immense amount of property.

A Rebel War Clerks Diary - April 10-11, 1861

John Beauchamp Jones

APRIL 10TH.--Making an early start this morning, I once more arrived at Washington City. I saw no evidences of a military force in the city, and supposed the little army to be encamped at the west end of the Avenue, guarding the Executive Mansion.

We took an omnibus without delay and proceeded to the steamer. As soon as we left the shore, I fancied I saw many of the passengers breathing easier and more deeply. Certainly there was more vivacity, since we were relieved of the presence of Republicans. And at the breakfast table there was a freer flow of speech, and a very decided manifestation of secession proclivities.

Among the passengers was Major Holmes, who had just resigned his commission in the U. S. army. He had been ordered to proceed with the expedition against Charleston; but declined the honor of fighting against his native land. The major is a little deaf, but has an intellectual face, the predominant expression indicating the discretion and prudence so necessary for success in a large field of operations. In reply to a question concerning the military qualities of Beauregard and Bragg, he said they were the flower of the young officers of the U. S. army. The first had great genius, and was perhaps the most dashing and brilliant officer in the country; the other, more sedate, nevertheless possessed military capacities of a very high order. President Davis, in his opinion, had made most excellent selections in the appointment of his first generals. The major, however, was very sad at the prospect before us; and regarded the tenders of pecuniary aid to the U. S. by the Wall Street capitalists as ominous of a desperate, if not a prolonged struggle. At this time the major's own State, North Carolina, like Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas, and Missouri, yet remains in the Union.

We were delayed several hours at Aquia Creek, awaiting the arrival of the cars, which were detained in consequence of a great storm and flood that had occurred the night before.

APRIL 10TH AND 11TH.--These two days were mainly lost by delays, the floods having swept away many bridges, which had not yet been repaired. As we approached Richmond, it was observed that the people were more and more excited, and seemed to be pretty nearly unanimous for the immediate secession of the State. Everywhere the Convention then in session was denounced with bitterness, for its adherence to the Union; and Gov. Letcher was almost universally execrated for the chocks he had thrown under the car of secession and Southern independence. I heard very many who had voted for him, regret that they had ever supported the clique of politicians who managed to secure his nomination. And now I learned that a People's Spontaneous Convention would assemble in Richmond on the 16th of the month, when, if the other body persisted in its opposition to the popular will, the most startling revolutionary measures would be adopted, involving, perhaps, arrests and executions. Several of the members of this body with whom I conversed bore arms upon their persons.

ELEVEN DAYS IN THE MILITIA - Part 1

A MILITIAMAN

After the reverses to our arms at the disastrous battles of the Second Bull Run and Centreville, in the latter part of August, 1862, and the retrograde movements of the Union forces in Virginia in consequence, the purpose of the enemy to follow up his advantage by endeavoring to take the Capital, invade the Middle States, and thus strike terror into the hearts of the people of the North, became immediately apparent. In the early part of September, war meetings were being held in Pennsylvania to raise the quota of the State in lieu of the draft then impending, in pursuance of the requisition of the President of the United States for three hundred thousand men. The Reserves had been called away to succor the hard-pressed army of McClellan, and the borders were left wholly unprotected at the inviting season of harvest. As a measure of precaution against the impending danger, Governor Curtin on the 4th of September issued a proclamation recommending the immediate formation of volunteer companies throughout the State, in conformity with existing militia laws, for home defence, and suggesting the closing of all places of business at 3 o'clock P.M. daily, in order to afford due opportunity for drill and preparation. On the next day, Mayor David McKnight of Reading, who was acting in that capacity in the place of Mayor Joel B. Wanner, then in the field as Major of the 128th Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers, also issued a manifesto, in pursuance of the spirit of the Governor's proclamation, requiring the assemblage of the citizens at certain places designated within their respective wards, for the organization of companies, and also the holding of daily drills from 4 to 6 P.M.

On the 5th, the rebel army under General Lee, comprising a force estimated at eighty thousand infantry, eight thousand cavalry, and one hundred and fifty pieces of artillery, crossed the Potomac at or near the Point of Rocks, and entered Frederick. Among its division commanders were Magruder, Walker, Anderson, A.P. Hill, Stuart, Longstreet, Ewell, and Stonewall Jackson. With the occupation of Maryland, matters reached an alarming crisis, and the imminent danger to Pennsylvania became at once evident. The boldness and celerity of the enemy's movements suggested the necessity for prompt action on the part of the State authorities. On the 10th of September, the Governor, acting under the direction of the President of the United States, issued another proclamation, as Commander-in-Chief of the militia, designated as General Order No. 35, calling on all the able-bodied men of the State to organize for its defence, and be ready to march to Harrisburg at an hour's notice, subject to his order. The companies were directed to be filled in accordance with the army standards of the United States, and as it was stated that the call might be sudden, the officers and men were required to provide themselves with the best arms they could procure, with at least sixty rounds of suitable ammunition, good stout clothing, uniform or otherwise; boots, blankets, and haversacks. The order further stipulated that the organizations would be held in service for such time only as the pressing emergency for the State defence might continue.

On the morning of the 11th, the rebel cavalry under Stuart entered Hagerstown, the southern terminus of the Cumberland Valley Railroad, six miles from the Pennsylvania line, the main body being about two-and-a-half miles behind, at Funkstown. The army of McClellan had in the meantime advanced to Poolesville. As soon as this intelligence reached Harrisburg, the Governor at 4 o'clock on the afternoon of that day issued General Order No. 36, calling into immediate service fifty thousand of the freemen of Pennsylvania, under the terms of the proclamation of the previous day, to repel the rebel invasion.

Immediately after the publication of the proclamation of Wednesday, September 10th, the work of forming militia companies in Reading was begun in earnest, the efforts that had been previously made in that direction not having been attended with much practical result. In the evening, the court-house bell was rung, and the building was rapidly filled. Mayor McKnight presided over the meeting. Dispatches were read indicating the approach of the enemy to the borders, and resolutions were adopted to organize companies forthwith in each of the wards. Many went directly from the meeting to the different places of rendezvous, and enrolled themselves for the State defence. There was not at the time a single full military company in Reading, all the troops enlisted for stated terms of service having already gone to the front. The night was one of much activity and excitement. Drilling was done in Penn Square to the inspiring accompaniment of fife and drum, which gave the town a decidedly warlike appearance. This exercise was continued daily and nightly until the militia had marched, and at no period during the entire war did the military enthusiasm of the people reach a greater height.

In the instruction of the troops, the manual of arms had to be omitted, for there were no guns. Officers had been hastily selected, and the commands in most cases given to experienced soldiers, whose services were in sudden and great demand. The fidelity of the men was accepted without any suggestion of the test of an oath. The companies recruited rapidly, and were not long in filling up to the standard. Their evolutions, which were conducted to a large extent in the open square, under the cover of darkness, were at times edifying to witness. As the battalions marched with sturdy tread up and down on either side of the central market-houses, collisions would now and then derange the symmetry of the forces. Frequent resort to unmilitary language on the part of the commanders was necessary to bring up the laggard platoons, and movements were habitually executed for which no precedent could have been found in either Scott or Hardee. But it was patriotism and not tactics that was uppermost in the minds of all, and trifling imperfections of military discipline were, for the moment at least, sunk out of sight in the sense of common danger.

Arms of all kinds were in urgent demand. Rifles and shot-guns, single and double-barreled, old and new; pistols of all designs, long and short, ancient and modern, together with some other unclassified implements of war, were brought out from their hiding-places, hastily cleaned and put in working order. Some of the men, when equipped for the march, were walking armories of miscellaneous weapons. The hardware stores were invaded in search of powder, shot, and ball. A gum blanket, with which in most cases an army blanket, or in default thereof, a pair of ordinary bed blankets, were rolled up; a haversack of canvas or oil-cloth, hastily put together at the saddler's, a tin cup, knife and fork and spoon, made up the rest of the equipment.

But it was the composition of the forces which lent to them their chief dignity and formed their most notable feature. There was no volunteering by proxy. No one at all able to contemplate military service thought of stopping to suggest the duty of his neighbor. Each felt the personal application of the call, and even to doubt one's fitness for duty was to expose himself to suspicion. All claims of business, public or private responsibilities, or professional or official duty had to yield to the necessities of the hour. Every interest was alike threatened, and no balancing of individual excuses could for a moment be tolerated. The women nobly seconded the appeal to arms, and assisted in the work of preparation. Personal and social distinctions were levelled, and in response to roll-call there appeared the lawyer, the physician, the preacher, the magistrate, the banker, the merchant, the manufacturer, and the railway official in his multifarious forms, side by side with the humbler civilian--all animated with patriotic zeal in the common cause.

Mayor McKnight, who subsequently himself joined a company named in his honor and commanded by Captain Nathan M. Eisenhower, on the 11th sent William M. Baird, Esq., to Harrisburg to keep the home authorities informed as to the arrangements for the calling out and reception of the Reading militia. On the evening of the 12th, Mr. Baird telegraphed that the companies should hold themselves in readiness to march, and a little later communicated an order from headquarters to Captain Franklin S. Bickley, who was in charge of the first company organized, and the only one then ready, for his command to leave for Harrisburg the next morning by the first train.

This company had its rendezvous in the second story of the building at the southwest corner of Fifth and Washington streets. Its roll originally contained 94 names, but the number of men who actually marched was but 64. Sergeant William H. Strickland was left behind to recruit the company up to the standard, and afterwards brought a few additional men to Chambersburg. The commanding officers were all of them men of some experience in military affairs, and proved themselves worthy of their positions. Captain Bickley had been a commissioned officer in the Pennsylvania Reserves; First Lieutenant Lewis H. Wunder was a veteran of the Mexican War; and Second Lieutenant Charles H. Richards, though never in actual service, had had a long connection with the militia before the war. In the ranks of the company were a few old soldiers, who were generally to be recognized by the coolness of their bearing.

At this point it will be appropriate to give the names of the seven companies which were raised in Reading, or its immediate vicinity, and left in response to the Governor's call, with the dates of marching and their regimental assignments. Several other companies were in course of organization in the city and county, but the emergency had passed before they were ready to respond to the call:--

Fifth Ward Guards, Captain F.S. Bickley, 70 men, Company G, 2d Regiment; September 13.

Nicolls Guards, Captain Charles H. Hunter, 104 men, Company E, 11th Regiment; September 15.

McKnight Guards, Captain Nathan M. Eisenhower, 95 men, Company I, 11th Regiment; September 15.

Liberty Fire Zouaves, Captain William Geiger, 70 men, Company G, 20th Regiment; September 17.

M'Lean Guards, Captain Samuel Harner, 45 men, Company H, 20th Regiment; September 17.

Halleck Infantry, Captain Frederick S. Boas, 92 men, Company I, 20th Regiment; September 17.

Berks County Cavalry, Captain Samuel L. Young, 67 men, Independent; September 17.

At a meeting of Captain Bickley's Company, held on the evening of the 12th, the marching order was read, and it was directed that the company meet at the armory at 10 o'clock the next morning in readiness to leave. Its subsequent movements during the campaign are detailed in the journal which follows, and to which what has already preceded is but a necessary preliminary.

A Woman's Wartime Journal During Sherman's March Through Georgia - Part 1

Dolly Sumner Lunt (Mrs. Thomas Burge)

JULY 22, 1864.

[The day of the battle of Atlanta]

We have heard the loud booming of cannon all day. Mr. Ward [the overseer] went over to the burial of Thomas Harwell, whose death I witnessed yesterday. They had but just gone when the Rev. A. Turner, wife, and daughter drove up with their wagons, desiring to rest awhile. They went into the ell [a large back room] and lay down, I following them, wishing to enjoy their company. Suddenly I saw the servants running to the palings, and I walked to the door, when I saw such a stampede as I never witnessed before. The road was full of carriages, wagons, men on horseback, all riding at full speed. Judge Floyd stopped, saying: "Mrs. Burge, the Yankees are coming. They have got my family, and here is all I have upon earth. Hide your mules and carriages and whatever valuables you have."

Sadai [Mrs. Burge's nine-year-old daughter] said:

"Oh, Mama, what shall we do?"

"Never mind, Sadai," I said. "They won't hurt you, and you must help me hide my things."

I went to the smoke-house, divided out the meat to the servants, and bid them hide it. Julia [a slave] took a jar of lard and buried it. In the meantime Sadai was taking down and picking up our clothes, which she was giving to the servants to hide in their cabins; silk dresses, challis, muslins, and merinos, linens, and hosiery, all found their way into the chests of the women and under their beds; china and silver were buried underground, and Sadai bid Mary [a slave] hide a bit of soap under some bricks, that mama might have a little left. Then she came to me with a part of a loaf of bread, asking if she had not better put it in her pocket, that we might have something to eat that night. And, verily, we had cause to fear that we might be homeless, for on every side we could see smoke arising from burning buildings and bridges.

Major Ansley, who was wounded in the hip in the battle of Missionary Ridge, and has not recovered, came with his wife, sister, two little ones, and servants. He was traveling in a bed in a small wagon. They had thought to get to Eatonton, but he was so wearied that they stopped with me for the night. I am glad to have them. I shall sleep none to-night. The woods are full of refugees.

A CANNONEER UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON - Part 2

ENTERING THE SERVICE - MY FIRST BATTLE - BATTLE OF KERNSTOWN

Jackson's first engagement took place at Hainesville, near Martinsburg, on July 2, one of the Rockbridge Artillery guns firing the first hostile cannon-shot fired in the Valley of Virginia. This gun is now in the possession of the Virginia Military Institute, and my brother David fired the shot. Before we knew that Jackson was out of the Valley, news came of the battle of First Manassas, in which General Bee conferred upon him and his brigade the soubriquet of "Stonewall," and by so doing likened himself to "Homer, who immortalized the victory won by Achilles."

In this battle the Rockbridge Artillery did splendid execution without losing a man, while the infantry in their rear, and for their support, suffered dreadfully. The College company alone (now Company I of the Fourth Virginia Regiment) lost seven killed and many wounded.

In August it was reported that a force of Federal cavalry was near the White Sulphur Springs, on their way to Lexington. Numbers of men from the hills and mountains around gathered at Collierstown, a straggling village in the western portion of the county, and I spent the greater part of the night drilling them in the town-hall, getting news from time to time from the pickets in the mountain-pass. The prospect of meeting so formidable a band had doubtless kept the Federals from even contemplating such an expedition.

The winter passed drearily along, the armies in all directions having only mud to contend with.

Since my failure to leave with the College company it had been my intention to join it the first opportunity; but, hearing it would be disbanded in the spring, I enlisted in the Rockbridge Artillery attached to the Stonewall Brigade, and with about fifty other recruits left Lexington March 10, 1862, to join Jackson, then about thirty miles south of Winchester. Some of us traveled on horseback, and some in farm-wagons secured for the purpose. We did not create the sensation we had anticipated, either on leaving Lexington or along the road; still we had plenty of fun. I remember one of the party--a fellow with a very large chin, as well as cheek--riding up close to a house by the roadside in the door of which stood a woman with a number of children around her, and, taking off his hat, said, "God bless you, madam! May you raise many for the Southern Confederacy."

We spent Saturday afternoon and night in Staunton, and were quartered in a hotel kept by a sour-looking old Frenchman. We were given an abominable supper, the hash especially being a most mysterious-looking dish. After retiring to our blankets on the floor, I heard two of the party, who had substituted something to drink for something to eat, discussing the situation generally, and, among other things, surmising as to the ingredients of the supper's hash, when Winn said, "Bob, I analyzed that hash. It was made of buttermilk, dried apples, damsons and wool!"

The following day, Sunday, was clear and beautiful. We had about seventy miles to travel along the Valley turnpike. In passing a stately residence, on the porch of which the family had assembled, one of our party raised his hat in salutation. Not a member of the family took the least notice of the civility; but a negro girl, who was sweeping off the pavement in front, flourished her broom around her head most enthusiastically, which raised a general shout.

We arrived at Camp Buchanan, a few miles below Mount Jackson, on Monday afternoon. I then, for the first time since April, 1861, saw my brother John. How tough and brown he looked! He had been transferred to the Rockbridge Artillery shortly before the first battle of Manassas, and with my brother David belonged to a mess of as interesting young men as I ever knew. Some of them I have not seen for more than forty years. Mentioning their names may serve to recall incidents connected with them: My two brothers, both graduates of Washington College; Berkeley Minor, a student at the University of Virginia, a perfect bookworm; Alex. Boteler, student of the University of Virginia, son of Hon. Alex. Boteler, of West Virginia, and his two cousins, Henry and Charles Boteler, of Shepherdstown, West Virginia; Thompson and Magruder Maury, both clergymen after the war; Joe Shaner, of Lexington, Virginia, as kind a friend as I ever had, and who carried my blanket for me on his off-horse at least one thousand miles; John M. Gregory, of Charles City County, an A. M. of the University of Virginia. How distinctly I recall his large, well-developed head, fair skin and clear blue eyes; and his voice is as familiar to me as if I had heard it yesterday. Then the brothers, Walter and Joe Packard, of the neighborhood of Alexandria, Virginia, sons of the Rev. Dr. Packard, of the Theological Seminary, and both graduates of colleges; Frank Preston, of Lexington, graduate of Washington College, who died soon after the war while professor of Greek at William and Mary College, a whole-souled and most companionable fellow; William Bolling, of Fauquier County, student of University of Virginia; Frank Singleton, of Kentucky, student of University of Virginia, whom William Williamson, another member of the mess and a graduate of Washington College, pronounced "always a gentleman." Williamson was quite deaf, and Singleton always, in the gentlest and most patient way, would repeat for his benefit anything he failed to hear. Last, and most interesting of all, was George Bedinger, of Shepherdstown, a student of the University of Virginia.

There were men in the company from almost every State in the South, and several from Northern States. Among the latter were two sons of Commodore Porter, of the United States Navy, one of whom went by the name of "Porter-he," from his having gone with Sergeant Paxton to visit some young ladies, and, on their return, being asked how they had enjoyed their visit, the sergeant said, "Oh, splendidly! and Porter, he were very much elated."

Soon after my arrival supper was ready, and I joined the mess in my first meal in camp, and was astonished to see how they relished fat bacon, "flap-jacks" and strong black coffee in big tin cups. The company was abundantly supplied with first-rate tents, many of them captured from the enemy, and everybody seemed to be perfectly at home and happy.

I bunked with my brother John, but there was no sleep for me that first night. There were just enough cornstalks under me for each to be distinctly felt, and the ground between was exceedingly cold. We remained in this camp until the following Friday, when orders came to move.

We first marched about three miles south, or up the Valley, then countermarched, going about twenty miles, and on Saturday twelve miles farther, which brought us, I thought, and it seemed to be the general impression, in rather close proximity to the enemy. There having been only a few skirmishes since Manassas in July, 1861, none of us dreamed of a battle; but very soon a cannon boomed two or three miles ahead, then another and another. The boys said, "That's Chew's battery, under Ashby."

Pretty soon Chew's battery was answered, and for the first time I saw and heard a shell burst, high in the air, leaving a little cloud of white smoke. On we moved, halting frequently, as the troops were being deployed in line of battle. Our battery turned out of the pike and we had not heard a shot for half an hour. In front of us lay a stretch of half a mile of level, open ground and beyond this a wooded hill, for which we seemed to be making. When half-way across the low ground, as I was walking by my gun, talking to a comrade at my side, a shell burst with a terrible crash--it seemed to me almost on my head. The concussion knocked me to my knees, and my comrade sprawling on the ground. We then began to feel that we were "going in," and a most weakening effect it had on the stomach.

I recall distinctly the sad, solemn feeling produced by seeing the ambulances brought up to the front; it was entirely too suggestive. Soon we reached the woods and were ascending the hill along a little ravine, for a position, when a solid shot broke the trunnions of one of the guns, thus disabling it; then another, nearly spent, struck a tree about half-way up and fell nearby. Just after we got to the top of the hill, and within fifty or one hundred yards of the position we were to take, a shell struck the off-wheel horse of my gun and burst. The horse was torn to pieces, and the pieces thrown in every direction. The saddle-horse was also horribly mangled, the driver's leg was cut off, as was also the foot of a man who was walking alongside. Both men died that night. A white horse working in the lead looked more like a bay after the catastrophe. To one who had been in the army but five days, and but five minutes under fire, this seemed an awful introduction.

The other guns of the battery had gotten into position before we had cleared up the wreck of our team and put in two new horses. As soon as this was done we pulled up to where the other guns were firing, and passed by a member of the company, John Wallace, horribly torn by a shell, but still alive. On reaching the crest of the hill, which was clear, open ground, we got a full view of the enemy's batteries on the hills opposite.

In the woods on our left, and a few hundred yards distant, the infantry were hotly engaged, the small arms keeping up an incessant roar. Neither side seemed to move an inch. From about the Federal batteries in front of us came regiment after regiment of their infantry, marching in line of battle, with the Stars and Stripes flying, to join in the attack on our infantry, who were not being reinforced at all, as everything but the Fifth Virginia had been engaged from the first. We did some fine shooting at their advancing infantry, their batteries having almost quit firing. The battle had now continued for two or three hours. Now, for the first time, I heard the keen whistle of

the Minie-ball. Our infantry was being driven back and the Federals were in close pursuit.

Seeing the day was lost, we were ordered to limber up and leave. Just then a large force of the enemy came in sight in the woods on our left. The gunner of the piece nearest them had his piece loaded with canister, and fired the charge into their ranks as they crowded through a narrow opening in a stone fence. One of the guns of the battery, having several of its horses killed, fell into the hands of the enemy. About this time the Fifth Virginia Regiment, which, through some misunderstanding of orders, had not been engaged, arrived on the crest of the hill, and I heard General Jackson, as he rode to their front, direct the men to form in line and check the enemy. But everything else was now in full retreat, with Minie-balls to remind us that it would not do to stop. Running back through the woods, I passed close by John Wallace as he lay dying. Night came on opportunely and put an end to the pursuit, and to the taking of prisoners, though we lost several hundred men. I afterward heard Capt. George Junkin, nephew of the Northern college president, General Jackson's adjutant, say that he had the exact number of men engaged on our side, and that there were 2,700 in the battle. The enemy's official report gave their number as 8,000. Jackson had General Garnett, of the Stonewall Brigade, suspended from office for not bringing up the Fifth Regiment in time.

It was dusk when I again found myself on the turnpike, and I followed the few indistinct moving figures in the direction of safety. I stopped for a few minutes near a camp-fire, in a piece of woods, where our infantry halted, and I remember hearing the colored cook of one of their messes asking in piteous tones, over and over again, "Marse George, where's Marse Charles?" No answer was made, but the sorrowful face of the one interrogated was response enough. I got back to the village of Newtown, about three miles from the battlefield, where I joined several members of the battery at a hospitable house. Here we were kindly supplied with food, and, as the house was full, were allowed to sleep soundly on the floor. This battle was known as Kernstown.

A Rebel War Clerks Diary - April 9, 1861

My adieus over, I set out in the broad light of day. When the cars arrived at Camden, I proceeded, with the rest of the through passengers, in the boat to the navy yard, without going ashore in the city. The passengers were strangers to me. Many could be easily recognized as Southern men; but quite as many were going only as far as Washington, for their reward. They were bold denouncers of the rebellion; the others were silent, thoughtful, but in earnest.

The first thing which attracted my attention, as the cars left the Delaware depot, was a sign-board on my left, inscribed in large letters, "UNION CEMETERY." My gaze attracted the notice of others. A mocking bon-mot was uttered by a Yankee wit, which was followed by laughter.

For many hours I was plunged in the deepest abstraction, and spoke not a word until we were entering the depot at Washington, just as the veil of night was falling over the scene.

Then I was aroused by the announcement of a conductor that, failing to have my trunk rechecked at Baltimore, it had been left in that city! Determined not to lose it, I took the return train to Baltimore, and put up at Barnum's Hotel. Here I met with Mr. Abell, publisher of the Baltimore Sun, an old acquaintance. Somewhat contrary to my expectations, knowing him to be a native of the North, I found him an ardent secessionist. So enthusiastic was he in the cause, that he denounced both Maryland and Virginia for their hesitancy in following the example of the Cotton States; and he invited me to furnish his paper with correspondence from Montgomery, or any places in the South where I might be a sojourner.

President Lincoln's Gettysburg Address

Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, given November 19, 1863 on the battlefield near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, USA

 Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

 Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . . can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

 We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

 But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . . we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

 It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . . and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . . shall not perish from this earth.

A CANNONEER UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON - Part 1

Edward A. Moore

WASHINGTON COLLEGE--LEXINGTON--VIRGINIA MILITARY INSTITUTE

At the age of eighteen I was a member of the Junior Class at Washington College at Lexington, Virginia, during the session of 1860-61, and with the rest of the students was more interested in the foreshadowings of that ominous period than in the teachings of the professors. Among our number there were a few from the States farther south who seemed to have been born secessionists, while a large majority of the students were decidedly in favor of the Union.

Our president, the Rev. Dr. George Junkin, who hailed from the North, was heart and soul a Union man, notwithstanding the fact that one of his daughters was the first wife of Major Thomas J. Jackson, who developed into the world-renowned "Stonewall" Jackson. Another daughter was the great Southern poetess, Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, and Dr. Junkin's son, Rev. W. F. Junkin, a most lovable man, became an ardent Southern soldier and a chaplain in the Confederate Army throughout the war.

At the anniversary of the Washington Literary Society, on February 22, 1861, the right of secession was attacked and defended by the participants in the discussion, with no less zeal than they afterward displayed on many bloody battlefields.

We had as a near neighbor the Virginia Military Institute, "The West Point of the South," where scores of her young chivalry were assembled, who were eager to put into practice the subjects taught in their school. Previous to these exciting times not the most kindly feelings, and but little intercourse had existed between the two bodies of young men. The secession element in the College, however, finding more congenial company among the cadets, opened up the way for quite intimate and friendly relations between the two institutions. In January, 1861, the corps of cadets had been ordered by Governor Wise to be present, as a military guard, at the execution of John Brown at Harper's Ferry. After their return more than the usual time was given to the drill; and target-shooting with cannon and small arms was daily practised in our hearing.

Only a small proportion of the citizens of the community favored secession, but they were very aggressive. One afternoon, while a huge Union flag-pole was being raised on the street, which when half-way up snapped and fell to the ground in pieces, I witnessed a personal encounter between a cadet and a mechanic (the latter afterward deserted from our battery during the Gettysburg campaign in Pennsylvania, his native State), which was promptly taken up by their respective friends. The cadets who were present hastened to their barracks and, joined by their comrades, armed themselves, and with fixed bayonets came streaming at double-quick toward the town. They were met at the end of Main street by their professors, conspicuous among whom was Colonel Colston on horseback. He was a native of France and professor of French at the Institute; he became a major-general in the Confederate Army and later a general in the Egyptian Army. After considerable persuasion the cadets were induced to return to their barracks.

Instead of the usual Saturday night debates of the College literary societies, the students either joined the cadets in their barracks at the Institute or received them at the College halls to harangue on the one absorbing topic.

On the top of the main building at the College was a statue of Washington, and over this statue some of the students hoisted a palmetto flag. This greatly incensed our president. He tried, for some time, but in vain, to have the flag torn down. When my class went at the usual hour to his room to recite, and before we had taken our seats, he inquired if the flag was still flying. On being told that it was, he said, "The class is dismissed; I will never hear a recitation under a traitor's flag!" And away we went.

Lincoln's proclamation calling for 75,000 men from Virginia, to whip in the seceded States, was immediately followed by the ordinance of secession, and the idea of union was abandoned by all. Recitation-bells no longer sounded; our books were left to gather dust, and forgotten, save only to recall those scenes that filled our minds with the mighty deeds and prowess of such characters as the "Ruling Agamemnon" and his warlike cohorts, and we could almost hear "the terrible clang of striking spears against shields, as it resounded throughout the army."

There was much that seems ludicrous as we recall it now. The youths of the community, imbued with the idea that "cold steel" would play an important part in the conflict, provided themselves with huge bowie-knives, fashioned by our home blacksmith, and with these fierce weapons swinging from their belts were much in evidence. There were already several organized military companies in the county. The Rockbridge Rifles, and a company of cavalry left Lexington April 17, under orders from Governor John Letcher, our townsman, who had just been inaugurated Governor of Virginia, to report at Harper's Ferry. The cavalry company endeavored to make the journey without a halt, and did march the first sixty-four miles in twenty-four hours.

The students formed a company with J. J. White, professor of Greek, as their captain. Drilling was the occupation of the day; the students having excellent instructors in the cadets and their professors. Our outraged president had set out alone in his private carriage for his former home in the North.

Many of the cadets were called away as drillmasters at camps established in different parts of the South, and later became distinguished officers in the Confederate Army, as did also a large number of the older alumni of the Institute.

The Rockbridge Artillery Company was organized about this time, and, after a fortnight's drilling with the cadets' battery, was ordered to the front, under command of Rev. W. N. Pendleton, rector of the Episcopal Church, and a graduate of West Point, as captain.

The cadets received marching orders, and on that morning, for the first time since his residence in Lexington, Major Jackson was seen in his element. As a professor at the Virginia Military Institute he was remarkable only for strict punctuality and discipline. I, with one of my brothers, had been assigned to his class in Sunday-school, where his regular attendance and earnest manner were equally striking.

It was on a beautiful Sunday morning in May that the cadets received orders to move, and I remember how we were all astonished to see the Christian major, galloping to and fro on a spirited horse, preparing for their departure.

In the arsenal at the Institute were large stores of firearms of old patterns, which were hauled away from time to time to supply the troops. I, with five others of the College company, was detailed as a guard to a convoy of Wagons, loaded with these arms, as far as Staunton. We were all about the same size, and with one exception members of the same class. In the first battle of Manassas four of the five--Charles Bell, William Wilson, William Paxton and Benjamin Bradley--were killed, and William Anderson, now Attorney-General of Virginia, was maimed for life.

There was great opposition on the part of the friends of the students to their going into the service, at any rate in one body, but they grew more and more impatient to be ordered out, and felt decidedly offended at the delay.

Finally, in June, the long-hoped-for orders came. The town was filled with people from far and near, and every one present, old and young, white and black, not only shed tears, but actually sobbed. My father had positively forbidden my going, as his other three sons, older than myself, were already in the field. After this my time was chiefly occupied in drilling militia in different parts of the country. And I am reminded to this day by my friends the daughters of General Pendleton of my apprehensions "lest the war should be over before I should get a trip."

A Rebel War Clerk's Diary - April 8, 1861

John Beauchamp Jones

BURLINGTON, NEW JERSEY.--The expedition sails to-day from New York. Its purpose is to reduce Fort Moultrie, Charleston harbor, and relieve Fort Sumter, invested by the Confederate forces. Southern born, and editor of the Southern Monitor, there seems to be no alternative but to depart immediately. For years the Southern Monitor, Philadelphia, whose motto was "The Union as it was, the Constitution as it is," has foreseen and foretold the resistance of the Southern States, in the event of the success of a sectional party inimical to the institution of African slavery, upon which the welfare and existence of the Southern people seem to depend. And I must depart immediately; for I well know that the first gun fired at Fort Sumter will be the signal for an outburst of ungovernable fury, and I should be seized and thrown into prison.

I must leave my family--my property--everything. My family cannot go with me--but they may follow. The storm will not break in its fury for a month or so. Only the most obnoxious persons, deemed dangerous, will be molested immediately.

8 O'CLOCK P.M.--My wife and children have been busy packing my trunk, and making other preparations for my departure. They are cheerful. They deem the rupture of the States a fait accompli, but reck not of the horrors of war. They have contrived to pack up, with other things, my fine old portrait of Calhoun, by Jarvis. But I must leave my papers, the accumulation of twenty-five years, comprising thousands of letters from predestined rebels. My wife opposes my suggestion that they be burned. Among them are some of the veto messages of President Tyler, and many letters from him, Governor Wise, etc. With the latter I had a correspondence in 1856, showing that this blow would probably have been struck then, if Fremont had been elected.