^°* 
 
 ^ 
 
 o 
 
 
 
.* ... 
 
JEFFERSON DAVIS 
 
+ ♦ immortelles ♦ ♦ 
 
 "W 
 
 A Tribute to the "Old South." 
 
 / 
 
 A COMPILATION BY y 
 
 Sarah Robinson Reid, 
 
 MAY 91 1898 
 
 LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS. 
 
 Published by the Brown Printing Company 
 1896. 
 
 
COPYRIGHT APPLIED FOR 
 
 i 
 
DEDICATION: 
 
 to my Father, who loved the " Southern Cause, 
 as a token of love and reverence, 
 I Dedicate this Book. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Befoke offering these pages for publication, 
 I have endeavored to learn if there is in print 
 another book covering the same ground. The 
 field is wide, and many of the songs and memo- 
 rials in this collection are here recorded for the 
 first time. It has been my object, as near as 
 possible, to arrange the matter in consecutive 
 order, beginning with the seceding of the South- 
 ern States and concluding with the close of the 
 war. To every section of our broad Southland 
 all honor shall be given— her chieftain, gallant 
 officers and private soldiers— their deeds shall 
 speak for them. 
 
 The traditions and wars of Grreece were glo- 
 rified by poetry and song — invested with new 
 life by the immortal Homer; their authors 
 became historians. 
 
 Historians may record the great events of a 
 nation's history with accuracy, but in describing 
 motive and defining sentiment they are not 
 unfrequently influenced by prejudices peculiar 
 
viii Preface. 
 
 to their own environment and education. Hence, 
 in the spontaneous poetry and song of a nation 
 we find at last the true exponent to motive and 
 action. Moral accountability must always be 
 determined by honesty of intention and purity 
 of motive, however far from the right may be 
 our conclusion; and, while the passionate polit- 
 ical debates during the war, and pages of history 
 written since the close, may be colored by other 
 influences, it is certain that the poetry and song 
 that burst spontaneous from the Southern heart 
 manifested the true spirit and motive. No nation 
 had more inspiring war songs than did the Con- 
 federate States of America. "Tell it as you 
 may, it never can be told." These songs are 
 treasured by the old veterans as sacred. Upon 
 Southern field and hillside, where heroes fell, 
 while chanting their refrain, their echoes died 
 away as the sun of the Confederacy — like the 
 setting of a great hope, went down; yet the 
 stars came out and shone above their graves, 
 and in the silence we catch again the echo, and 
 in song their spirits live, while once more — 
 
 The sweet bird of the South 
 Might build in. every cannon's mouth, 
 Till the only sound from its rusty throat 
 Should be the wren's and bluebird's note. 
 
 Now that a united nation stands under one 
 
Preface. ix 
 
 glorious flag, the deeds of her heroes North and 
 South must be our common hertitage. 
 
 Discord with the battle ends. 
 In peace, they wonder why the battle rose, 
 And ask how souls so great could e'r be foes; 
 The hardy veteran, proud of many a scar, 
 The manly charms and honors of the war, 
 Leans on his spear to take a farewell view; 
 And, sighing, bids the glorious camp adieu. 
 
 S. R. 
 
£• 
 
 Rv Sarah Robinson Reid. 
 
 NATIONAL SONG— THE MAGNOLIA. 
 Albert Pike. 
 
 What, Avhat is the true Southern symbol — 
 
 The symbol of Honor and Right; 
 The emblem that suits a brave people 
 
 In arms against numbers and might? 
 'Tis the ever green stately Magnolia, 
 
 Its pearl flowers pure as the truth ; 
 Defiant of tempest and lightning. 
 
 It's life a perpetual youth. 
 
 Chorus — Our colors, the blue, white and green. 
 
 Independence and freedom forever. 
 Hurrah! for the blue, white and green. 
 
 French blood stained with glory the lillies, 
 
 While centuries marched to their grave, 
 And over-bold Scot and gay Irish 
 
 The thistle and shamrock yet wave ; 
 Ours, ours, be the noble Magnolia, 
 
 That only on Southern soil grows. 
 The symbol of life everlasting. 
 
 Leave the Eagle to strive for our foes. 
 
 Chorus — Our colors, the blue, white and green. 
 
 Independence and freedom forever. 
 Hurrah! for the blue, white and green! 
 
12 Immortelles. 
 
 A Flag Pkesentation. 
 
 At Belmonte, Ala., the following young ladies 
 stepped forward, representing the seceding States, 
 as they left the Old Confederacy, carrying with 
 them the rights and privileges bequeathed them 
 by their ancestors of the Revolution. One by 
 one they repeated the following appropriate and 
 patriotic lines: 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINA — REPRESENTED BY MISS MATILDA FENNEL. 
 
 First to rise against oppression 
 In the glorious Southern band. 
 
 Home of dead and living heroes, 
 South Carolina takes her stand. 
 
 MISSISSIPPI— MISS CORNIE COPERTON. 
 
 Sisters, room for Mississippi; 
 
 Well she knows the martial chain. 
 She has marched of old to battle. 
 She will strike her foes again. 
 
 TEXAS— MISS PARTHENIA BRYANT. 
 
 Texas, youngest 'mid her sisters, 
 Joins her earnest voice to theirs. 
 
 Forth she sends her gallant rangers 
 With her blessings and her prayers. 
 
 VIRGINIA— MISS SALLIE FENNEL. 
 
 Wave, wave on high your banners, 
 
 For the Old Dominion comes, 
 With her lightning speaking thunder; 
 
 Lo! where sound her army's drums. 
 
Immortelles. 13 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA— MISS JENNIE ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Over vail and over mountain, 
 Pealing forth the trumpest high, 
 
 Comes a lofty swell of music, 
 The old North State's battle cry. 
 
 ARKANSAS— MISS SALLIE CARTER. 
 
 Long Arkansas waited, hoping, 
 
 Clinging to the flag of stars, 
 Now she tears them down forever; 
 
 Ho! away then for the wars. 
 
 TENNESSEE— MISS KATE MATTOX. 
 
 Last, but far from least, among ye 
 Spartan band of brave and free, 
 
 Like a whirlwind in her anger, 
 Wheels in line old Tennessee. 
 
 Fiest Confederate Shot. 
 The very first life lost in the final direct strug- 
 gle over secession, was on the Federal side at 
 Fort Sumpter, in an accidental explosion after 
 the fort had surrendered April 13, 1861. But 
 the first Confederate to be killed in battle was 
 Private Henry Lawson Wyatt, a soldier in Com- 
 pany A, First North Carolina Infantry. His life 
 was lost in the battle known as "Big Bethel," 
 fought June 10, 1861, near Yorktown. Va. The 
 
14 Immortelles. 
 
 conflict at "Big Bethel" was the first land battle 
 of the war. Though on a minor scale it was a 
 brilliant victory for the Southern arms. The 
 Confederate troops engaged belonged to the com- 
 mand of General John B. Magruder, the infan- 
 try force being chiefly the North Carolina regi- 
 ment under the immediate command of Colonel 
 D. H. Hill, who was afterwards a Lieutenant- 
 General in the Confederate service, and was re- 
 garded as the hero of the battle. The Lieuten- 
 ant-Colonel of the regiment was C. C. Lee and 
 the Major was James H. Lane, both of whom 
 subsequently rose to the rank of Brigadier Gen- 
 eral in the Confederacy. The regiment passed 
 into history as the Bethel Regiment of North 
 Carolina troops. 
 
 Battery of Richmond Howitzers was in com- 
 mand of Captain W. W, Randolph, who subse- 
 quently became the Confederate Secretary of 
 War, and whose face afterward appeared on the 
 paper currency. The Federal forces, several 
 thousand troops engaged in action, was under 
 the immediate command of General B. F. But- 
 ler. 
 
 Henry Wyatt was a native of Virginia, born 
 in Richmond February 12, 1842. He was one of 
 the very first men to enlist as a soldier for the 
 Southern cause when the Governor of North 
 Carolina called for volunteers in April, 1861, 
 
Immortelles. 15 
 
 after the Lincoln proclamation declaring war 
 against the Southern States. He entered the 
 Edgecomb G-uards under command of Captain 
 John L. Bridges. Fifty-four days after he was 
 mustered into service, Henry Wyatt fell in battle 
 at the age of 20. He was burried near the foot 
 of the Cornwallis monument, Yorktown, Ya. 
 Yirginia should see that a fitting memorial is 
 erected over the grave of her heroic son. In the 
 beginning of the battle the sharp-shooters of the 
 enemy occupied a house between the two oppos- 
 ing lines — blue and gray. 
 
 A call was made for volunteers to advance 
 across the intervening distance through an open 
 field, two hundred yards wide, and fire the build- 
 ing. Privates Wyatt, John H. Thorpe, Greorge 
 Williams and a youth named Taylor responded 
 to the call. They had proceeded but a short 
 distance when Henry Wyatt fell with a bullet in 
 his brain from a volley fired from the building. 
 
 The other three soldiers dropped to the ground 
 and remained until Captain Randolph, bringing 
 his guns to bear upon the building, destroyed it 
 and opened a way for the Confederate forward 
 movement. 
 
 The comrades of young Wyatt rejoined their 
 command, went through the war and are yet 
 living. Yery soon after the cannonading of the 
 house began Major Winthrop, a gallant and 
 
16 Immortelles. 
 
 noble son of 'Connecticut, endeavored to lead his 
 men into action, but as lie came to the front, 
 waving his sword about his head, the North 
 Carolinians fired a volley and he fell dead — he, I 
 believe, the first victim among the Federal officers 
 of the war. His native State has long ago per- 
 petuated his memory. 
 
 Enlisted To-Day. 
 
 (Found on the body of a young soldier, Alabama regiment.) 
 
 I know the sun shines and the lilacs are blowing, 
 And summer sends kisses to beautiful May. 
 
 On, to see all the treasures the spring is bestowing, 
 And to think my boy, Willie, enlisted to-day. 
 
 It seems but a day since, the twilight low humming, 
 
 I rocked him to sleep with his cheek upon mine, 
 While Robbie, the four-year-old, watched for the coming 
 Of father adown the street's indistinct line. 
 
 Ic is many a year since my Harry departed 
 
 To come back no more in the twilight or dawn 
 And Robbie grew weary of watching and started 
 
 Alone in the journey his father had gone. 
 It is many a year, and this afternoon sitting 
 
 At Robbie's old window I heard the band play, 
 And suddenly ceased dreaming over my knitting 
 
 To reccolleo.t Willie is twenty to-day. 
 
Immortelles. 17 
 
 And that standing beside him this soft May day morning, 
 The sim making gold of his wreathed cigar smoke, 
 
 I saw in the sweet eyes and lips a faint warning 
 And choked down the tears when he eagerly spoke. 
 
 "Dear mother, yon know how the north-men are crowing. 
 
 They would trample the rights of the South in the dust. 
 The boys are all fire; they wish I were going." 
 
 He stopped, but his eyes said: "Oh, say if I must?" 
 
 I smiled on the boy, though my heart it seemed breaking- 
 My eyes filled with tears as I turned them away 
 
 And answered: "Willie, 'tis well you are waking. 
 Go act as your father would bid you to-day." 
 
 I sit at the window and see the flags flying 
 
 And dreamily list to the roll of the drum, 
 And smother the pain in my heart that is lying 
 
 And bid .all the fears in my bosom be dumb. 
 
 I shall sit at the window when summer is lying 
 Out over the fields and the honey bees' hum 
 
 Lulls the rose at the porch from her tremulous sighing 
 And watch for the face of my darling to come. 
 
 And if he should fall his young life he has given 
 For freedom's sweet sake, and for me I will pray 
 
 Once more with my Harry and Robbie in heaven 
 To meet the dear boy that enlisted to-day. 
 
 The Origin of Dixie. 
 
 Some years ago, before the war, a very musi- 
 cal family by the name of Dixie lived in Wor- 
 cester, Mass. One of the brothers, WalstoD 
 Dixie, we believe, decided to apply his talents in 
 the negro minstrelsy line, and soon the famous 
 "Dixie Minstrels" were known from one end of 
 
 i.— 2 
 
18 Immortelles. 
 
 the country to the other. This same founder of 
 the troupe wrote the 'celebrated song "Dixie's 
 Land/ 7 which attained such popularity. He 
 found in the Southern States the germs of the 
 quaint negro songs, which he brushed up and 
 placed in his programme. The South adopted 
 the song, and hence allowed this gifted minstrel 
 of Massachusetts to give that section of the 
 country a new name, which will always stick. 
 Many songs have been adopted and sectionized 
 in this way. " Yankee Doodle" was written by 
 an Englishman as a satire, but our ancestors 
 lucked it up and gave it a home. 
 
 Another Version — Author of Dixie. 
 
 Daniel Decatur Emmett, the author of Dixie, 
 was born at Mt. Vernon, Knox County, Ohio, 
 on the 29th of October, 1815. The word 
 "Dixie" is said to have been started from a 
 Mr. Dix, a typical Southerner. He inaugurated, 
 however, the blacking of faces, which had much 
 to do with the popularity of his Dixie "Walk 
 'Round." 
 
 Dixie's Land — "Walk 'Round." 
 
 Composed by Daniel D. Emmett for Bryant's Minstrels. 
 I wish I was in the land ob cotton, 
 Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom, 
 
 Look away, look away, away Dixie land. 
 Dixie land where I was born in, 
 Early on one frosty mornin', 
 
Immortelles. 19 
 
 Look away, away, look away, Dixie land. 
 Den I wish I was in Dixie, hooray, hooray, 
 
 Dixie's land we'll take our stand, 
 To lib and die in Dixie, away, away, 
 
 Away down South in Dixie. 
 
 Old missus marry Will, the weaber. 
 William was a gay deceaber — 
 When he put his arms around her, 
 He look as fierce as a forty pounder. 
 Chorus — Hooray, hooray, etc. 
 
 His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber, 
 But dat did not seem to greab her; 
 Will run away, missus took a decline, O, 
 Her face was the color of bacon rhine, O. 
 Chorus — Hooray^ hooray, etc. 
 
 While missus libbed she libbed in clover, 
 When she died she died all ober; 
 How could she act such a foolish part, O, 
 And marry a man to break her heart, O. 
 Chorus- -Hooray, hooray, etc. 
 
 Bucketwheat cake and stony batter 
 Makes you fat or a little fatter; 
 Here's a health to the new ole missus, 
 An' all de gals dat wants to kiss us. 
 Chorus — Hooray, hooray, etc. 
 
 Now, if you want to drive 'way sorrow, 
 Come and hear dis song to-morrow, 
 Den hoe it down and scratch your grabble. 
 To Dixie's land I'm bound to trabble. 
 Chorus— Hooray, hooray, etc. 
 
 Mr. Emmett was known in his minstrel char- 
 acter as "Uncle Dan." He said Jerie Bryant 
 told him to make a song the boys can whoop 
 and holler — a regular ne°TO walk round. "The 
 
L'O Immortelles. 
 
 next day ( Sunday) I sat down with my violin 
 while it rained and composed 'Dixe Land.' " 
 
 OUR DIXIE. 
 BY A LADY OF AUGUSTA, GA., 1865. 
 
 I heard long since a simple strain. 
 It brought no thrill of joy or pain; 
 Nor did I care to hear again 
 
 Of Dixie. 
 But time rolled on, and drum and fife 
 Gave token of a coming strife, 
 And called our youth to soldier life 
 
 In Dixie. 
 And so our treasures, one by one, 
 All by the battlefield were won. 
 They heard at morn and setting sun — 
 
 Our Dixie. 
 Their blood flowed on the fresh green hill, 
 It mingled with the mountain rill 
 And poured through vales once calm and still 
 
 In Dixie. 
 The living rallied to their stand, 
 Their war cry was their "'Native Land," 
 But sadder from their lessening land 
 
 Came Dixie. 
 Yet still it roused to deeds of fame 
 And made immortal many a name, 
 It never caused a blush of shame — 
 
 Our Dixie. 
 We may not hear that simple strain 
 Ever without a thrill of pain — 
 Our dead come back to live again 
 
 With Dixie. 
 And if I were a generous foe 
 I'd honor him whose heart's best throe, 
 Leaped to that music soft and low — 
 
 Our Dixie. 
 
Immortelles. 21 
 
 Fikst Confederate Flag. 
 
 Mr. Christopher Nelson claimed that the first 
 Confederate flag had been raised by him, and 
 referred to Mr. Lee Howard, who said: "On 
 the afternoon of the 5th of March, 1861, Mr. 
 Colcock, then collector of the port, received 
 from Wm. Porcher Miles, Montgomery, Ala., 
 then the capital of the Confederacy, a telegram 
 giving the design just determined on by that 
 body for the Confederate flag. I suggested to 
 him to have one made at once and have it hoisted 
 the next morning over the custom house. To 
 this Mr. Colcock demurred, whereupon I ordered 
 the porter, Christopher Nelson, to make one for 
 me that night. To my surprise and pleasure I 
 saw it next day, March 6, 1861, flying on the 
 staff of the custom house. Captain Tom Lock- 
 wood requested the loan of it for his steamer for 
 Florida, the first to float over her waters. 
 
 A Flag Presentation. 
 
 BY SALLIE ROBINSON. 
 
 Oentlemen — For and in behalf of the ladies of 
 this city, I present you this flag. It has been 
 adopted as the ensign of the Confederate States. 
 Its existence is attributable alone to the existence 
 of that spirit of freedom in the Southern heart 
 
22 Immortelles. 
 
 which animated and cheered our fathers in the 
 struggle for independence. Believing this, we 
 have the utmost confidence that your strength 
 will be devoted to its defense when attacked by 
 the millions of a party who have for years been 
 studiously working the ruin of the fair fabric of 
 American independence — the Union, which 
 work is now complete. The Union is at an end. 
 Although we are not so intimately identified 
 with the nation over which it floats as is desirable, 
 yet we look forward to the time when we shall 
 be a component part of it, and claim the equal 
 privileges of its constitution and laws, thus 
 relieving ourselves of the thought of being 
 subjugated. 
 
 The dread horrors of war are far preferable to 
 subjugation and degradation. To the dastard 
 the prospect of war brings a shudder, but to us 
 servility and negro equality is far more alarming. 
 
 That the rights of the South have been invaded 
 there can be no question, and the only excuse 
 for him who now shrieks for the Union is fear. 
 In this crisis, we pledge you, fear has no abiding 
 place in our heart. We speak not alone for 
 ourselves, but for the ladies of Johnson County. 
 Although they have been reared in the once 
 happy Union and enjoyed all the blessings of 
 peace and prosperity to which our nation had 
 attained, yet we have the same stem inflexibility 
 
Immortelles. 23 
 
 in our natures which, in our mothers, gave so 
 much of confidence to the soldier and citizen in 
 the darkest hour of the Revolution. 
 
 Although not accustomed to hardships, we 
 have the fortitude to endure them if likely to be 
 productive of good. You who are strong battle 
 far the right, and you shall have such assistance 
 as within us lies. Without designing compliment 
 to ourselves, history shows that whenever or 
 wherever the flag of liberty has been unfurled 
 our sex have been its strongest admirers antl 
 supporters. 
 
 Unfurl this flag as we present it to you. 
 Within its folds are designs directive of the 
 thoughts to the struggle now being made for 
 freedom in the South. Hoist it, and long may 
 it wave. May the nation of which it is an 
 ensign be fostered and our own independence be 
 established under its protective policy. May our 
 fondest and brightest hopes of the future pros- 
 perity and protective glory of the nation over 
 which it floats be fully consummated in the full 
 enjoyment by the people of the blessings of 
 liberty once purchased by the blood of our 
 fathers. May this flag never trail in the dust. 
 
 [We aie sorry not to be able to give the very 
 appropriate response to the flag presentation by 
 Dr. J. P. Mitchell on that day of sunshine never 
 fairer in Arkansas. The music of Dixie rever- 
 
24 Immortelles. 
 
 berated through the hills and valleys of Spadra's 
 stream. The air was redolent with the fragrance 
 of orchard blossoms and spring-time flowers ; not 
 a glimpse of the shadow of war's desolation dark- 
 ened the landscape. Every heart beat high with 
 hope and courage. Though not her own com- 
 position, they were, seemingly, bold, brave 
 words to fall from the lips of the little school- 
 girl "miss" who stood upon the platform in the 
 courtyard. What knew she of the horrors of 
 civil war \ As much as many of that brave band 
 of Clarksvilleboys, looking so handsome in their 
 "minute" men caps, ready to do battle for their 
 country, by whom she was surrounded. It mat- 
 tered not, the address was inspiring; and as the 
 speaker flung out words of defiance to those who 
 dare invade our homes, a humming bird — fairy 
 bird of the Southland — fluttered nearer and 
 nearer, captivated by their sweetness, and rested 
 on the flowers at her throat — a bright, happy 
 omen. In the years to come that scene may 
 be blotted from the memory by war's tempest 
 of tears, fire and blood, the South made desolate, 
 her homes in ashes, but her sons will not tamely 
 submit; they know no servile fear. Forever 
 sacred the soil where her heroes fall, immortal 
 their fame!— S. R., Clarksville.] 
 
Immortelles. 25 
 
 For Miss Sallie Robinson. 
 
 The battle strife is resounding 
 
 Through the American land; 
 The fiery cannon is rebounding ; 
 
 The conflicts brilliant and grand. 
 
 There is magic in the cry, "To arms!'' 
 
 To do battle for our soil ; 
 To face the enemy's alarms, 
 
 To wade through many a toil. 
 
 The soldier suffers much and long, 
 
 And has his heart wrung often. 
 Although his arm is good and strong, 
 
 His feeling heart will soften 
 
 When he thinks of those dear ones 
 
 He fondly desires to see. 
 Let us pray for the patriot sons 
 
 Who fight and strive the South to free. 
 
 Let us pray the "God of Battles" 
 
 Our patriot friends to shield, 
 And, while the iron hail rattles, 
 
 Brace their arms their swords to wield. 
 
 May the foe be driven to flight 
 
 And the weary conflict cease, 
 Our land be ever blest with right, 
 
 Freedom, contentment and peace. 
 
 J. S. Powers. 
 Clarksville, Ark., Oct. 20, 1861. 
 
 Deae Sallie — In writing my name in your 
 book of remembrance, I will record the placing 
 the "Star of Arkansas" the tenth in number in 
 the glorious constellation of the "Confederated 
 States of America.' 7 As the flag of your city 
 ascended in the air this afternoon for more than 
 
26 Immortelles. 
 
 a hundred feet, the balmy south wind filling its 
 
 ample folds, for the first time we saw with joy 
 
 in the bright galaxy the star of Arkansas. May 
 
 this beautiful flag, through all the years to come, 
 
 wave in peace and proud tranquility over your 
 
 home and mine. 
 
 Maggie Cunningham. 
 
 Clarksville, Ark., May 9, 1861. 
 
 The Confederate Gray Uniform. 
 General Rufus Saxton. 
 It is not generally known that the Confederate 
 uniform was designed at West Point. It hap- 
 pened in this way: I was an instructor of 
 artillery at the Academy from May 1, 1859, to 
 September, 1860. General S. B. Buckner, who 
 was Adjutant-General of Kentucky, came here for 
 the purpose of obtaining a new uniform for the 
 troops of that State. We agreed that the hand- 
 somest uniform was the Cadet gray. Buckner 
 went South and the uniform we had decided 
 upon became that of the Confederate army. W. 
 H. Bemess writes from Shelbyville, Ky. : "I do 
 not know whether General Saxton is right about 
 it. but I am inclined to think he is. I do know, 
 
Immortelles. 27 
 
 however, that Kentucky had State troops (State 
 Gruards) at that time (1859-60) under General 
 Buckner, and they (at least some of them) were 
 uniformed in cadet gray. The uniform was not 
 furnished by the State. Each man paid for his 
 own uniform. I was a member of a company 
 of State Guards (Stone Rifles;, at Bloomfield, 
 Nelson County, Kentucky. Most of us went 
 South wearing our cadet gray uniforms, as they 
 did from other parts of the State. A few joined 
 the Northern army, but most of our citizen sol- 
 diery favored the South. We did not attempt 
 to carry our organizations intact into the South- 
 ern Army. 
 
28 Immortelles. 
 
 The Men Who Wore the Gray. 
 
 FATHER A. J. RYAN. 
 
 Tell it as you may, 
 
 It never can be told; 
 
 Sing it as you will 
 
 It never can be sung. 
 
 The story of the glory 
 
 Of the men who wore the gray. 
 
 In their graves so still ; 
 
 The story of the living 
 
 Unforgiven, yet forgiving — 
 
 The victim still of hate, 
 
 Who have forever clung, 
 
 With a love that will not die, 
 
 To the memories of our past; 
 
 Who are patient and who wait 
 
 True and faithful to the last 
 
 For the Easter morning sky, 
 
 Where wrong's rock shall roll away 
 
 From the sepulcher of right, 
 
 And the right shall rise again 
 
 In the brightness of a light 
 
 That shall never fade away, 
 
 Triumphantly and glorious 
 
 To teach once more to men, 
 
 The conquered are vict orious. 
 
 The conquered in the strife 
 
 Through their children yet shall reign 
 
 By their patience and their peace ; 
 
 They shall fill the people's life, 
 
 From right's ever virgin vein, 
 
 With the purest love that flows, 
 
 Made the purer by our woes, 
 
 Without stain and without cease 
 
 Till the children of our foes 
 
 Shall be proud and glad to claim 
 
Immortelles. 29 
 
 And to write upon one scroll 
 
 Every dear and deathless name 
 
 On our Southern muster roll. 
 
 Ah! we rebels met defeat 
 
 On the gory battle field, 
 
 And we flung our muskets down, 
 
 When our bonnie flag was furled 
 
 But our right did but retreat 
 
 With pure honor for her shield, 
 
 And with justice for her crown 
 
 From the forces of the world. 
 
 (For against us thousands came, 
 
 Money brought from every clime 
 
 But we stood against them all 
 
 For the honor of our name, 
 
 Till the fated day of time 
 
 Came but to crown our fall 
 
 With a fadeless wreath of fame.) 
 
 Retreat into that shrine 
 
 Back of every Southern breast, 
 
 Your hearts my friends and mine, 
 
 Where right finds a holy rest 
 
 On the altar stairs that slope 
 
 Toward the throne where reigns the just, 
 
 Where we still live on and hope, 
 
 And in Him we place our trust. 
 
 Is it treason thus to sing? 
 
 Why then treason let it be, 
 
 Must we stoop to fawn or wrong? 
 
 To the idle must we bring 
 
 Our heart's idolatry 
 
 And the fealty of song? 
 
 No, no; the past is past, 
 
 May it never come again; 
 
 May no drum or bugle's blast, 
 
 Summon warriors to the plain. 
 
30 Immortelles. 
 
 The battle's play is o'er. 
 
 We staked our all and lost; 
 
 The red wild waves that tossed 
 
 The Southland's sacred bark 
 
 Are sleeping on the shore. 
 
 She went down in the dark ; 
 
 Is it wrong for us to listen 
 
 To the waves that still will glisten 
 
 Where the wreck we loved went down? 
 
 Is it wrong to watch the willows 
 
 That are drooping o'er the grave? 
 
 Is it wrong to love our brave? 
 
 Are our memories a treason 
 
 To the powers we must obey? 
 
 Can the victors give a reason 
 
 Why the men who wore the gray 
 
 From bur hearts should march away, 
 
 And should pass from us forever 
 
 Like the dreamings of the night? 
 
 Do they want the South to sever 
 
 The blood consecrated ties, 
 
 The sacred bonds of sorrow 
 
 That will link our last— tomorrow 
 
 To our glory hallowed past? 
 
 Ah! pure hearts cry, Never! never! 
 
 For each soldier heart that dies 
 
 In our memories still is beating; 
 
 Though the years are fast retreating 
 
 We remember to the last. 
 
 Nay, tell it as you may, 
 
 It never can be told; 
 
 And sing it as you will, 
 
 It never can be sung — 
 
 The story of the glory 
 
 Of our bonnie, bonnie flag, 
 
 When its battle wings were waiving 
 
Immortelles. 
 
 In the valley— on the crag— 
 On the billows of the ocean, 
 By the rivers' winding shore. 
 The years have passed away, 
 But, Ah! 'tis flinging still 
 Around our hearts to-day 
 The self- same spell it flung 
 O'er our soldiers in the gray, 
 Back of lines that never quailed, 
 Far from battle banner's flash. 
 There were lips that moaned and wailed, 
 And how many eyes that wept; 
 Tho' they heard no cannon crash, 
 Nor the terror storms of lead, 
 And they sighed the while they slept 
 When they dreamed their own were dead; 
 Mothers, wives and children fair, 
 Back of all the ranks that fought, 
 Knelt adown in holy prayer, 
 And in Heaven only sought 
 In their infinite despair. 
 Gleams of hope to light the night 
 Darkly gathering o'er the right. 
 Can a singer gather up 
 In the chalices of song, 
 Half the tears that filled the cup 
 Of the griefs of such a throng? 
 Crimson drops on battle plain, 
 Thro' four sorrow-laden years- 
 Were they richer than the rain, 
 That baptized our homes with tears? 
 Nay; no singer yet has sung 
 Song to tell how hearts had bled, 
 Where our soldiers homes among, 
 Wept eyes waiting for the dead'. 
 And one statuesque, and still 
 (Is he in the hall to-night, 
 
32 Immortelles. 
 
 Who yet suffers for the right?) 
 Faithful chieftain of our cause — 
 Like an ocean rock his will, 
 Let the wild waves rise and fall; 
 What cares it, and what cares he? 
 Tho' still banned by freedom's laws, 
 In his home beside the sea 
 Lives he freest of the free. 
 Ah! they chained his feeble frame, 
 But they could not chain his thought, 
 Nor the right for which he fought ; 
 And they could not chain his fame, 
 But they riveted his name 
 To the hearts of you and me. 
 Aged chief tian! Southern truth! 
 In you keeps immortal youth! 
 You, our truest and our best, 
 What care you for any ban? 
 Are you not the noblest guest 
 In the hearts of each and all? 
 For us all you wore wrong's chain, 
 And each heart is now the hall 
 Where you have the right to reign. 
 Leader of the men in gray! 
 Chieftian — truest of the true — 
 Write our story as you may, 
 And you did; but even you 
 With your pen could never write 
 Half the storj^ of our land ; 
 Yours the heart, and yours the hand- 
 Sentinels of Southern right ; 
 Yours the brave, strong eloquence — 
 Your true words our last defense ; 
 Warrior — words but even they 
 Failed as failed our men in gray; 
 Failed to tell the story grand 
 Of our cause and of our land. 
 
Immortelles. 33 
 
 When and Where Father Ryan Died. 
 
 The poet priest of the South, Rev. A. J. 
 Ryan, died at St. Boniface Franciscan Convent, 
 Louisville, Ky. What a sorrow seemed to have 
 veiled the life and death of this sweet bard and 
 true poet, so loved by the people of the South. 
 There is a breath of sadness in every line of his 
 verses, as there ever was a shade of melancholy 
 in his face. As a prophet he thus described 
 with wonderful accuracy his own sad last hours: 
 
 "He was dying fast and the hours went by. 
 Ah! desolate hours were they; 
 His mind had hidden away somewhere 
 Back of a fretted and wearied brow, 
 E'er he passed from life away." 
 
 He passed from this world away on the 22d 
 of April, at 9 p. m., 1886, at the age of forty- 
 six. The ex-Confederates of Louisville escorted 
 his remains to the depot. He was buried at 
 Mobile, Ala. Few men possess the power of so 
 withdrawing from the world around them and 
 living in the realm of thought as he did. — Ed- 
 win Drury. 
 
 [It is a singular fact that some admirers of 
 Father Ryan's poems believe that he is yet 
 alive.] 
 
34 Immortelles, 
 
 Humoe in Camp. 
 
 Ben B was foraging, and finding a farm- 
 house deserted, he went in to see what was 
 lying around loose. The only thing left was 
 the house cat. He took that back to camp. 
 Ben said he just took it to keep the enemy 
 from getting it. 
 
 In my regiment there was a Corporal McVay 
 with a suit of red ringlets, and the boys would 
 tease him about his curls. On one occasion he 
 went on a scout. The entire scout was captured, 
 but one of them made his escape, and he gave 
 a most ainusing account of McVay's experience 
 with his captors. One of them insisted on 
 having one of his curls to send to his sweetheart 
 at home to make her think he was flirting with 
 a red-headed little Rebel girl in Dixie. They 
 would chaff him until he was wild and helpless 
 with rage. It is safe to say he had his curls cut 
 off if he ever got back to his command. 
 
 Memorable Events of the Confederate War. 
 
 January 5, 1861— Steamer "Star of the West" 
 sailed from New York with supplies and re- 
 inforcements for Fort Sumpter; arrived off 
 
Immortelles. 35 
 
 Charleston, S. C, on the 9th, was fired upon 
 and driven back to sea. She returned to New 
 York on the 12th, with two large shot holes in 
 her hull. 
 
 March, 1861— 4th, Abraham Lincoln inaugu- 
 rated President. 
 
 May, 1861— 2d, Sixty-ninth New York Regi- 
 ment arrived in Washington; 5th, General 
 Butler took possession of Relay House; 11th, 
 Charleston blockade established; 31st, cavalry 
 skirmish at Fairfax Courthouse, Ya. 
 
 June, 1861— 2d, battle of Phillips, Ya. ; Con- 
 federates routed; 11th, Colonel Wallace routed 
 Confederates at Romney, Ya. ; 18th, battle of 
 Booneville, Mo. 
 
 July, 1861— 5th, President Lincoln called for 
 400,000 men and $400,000,000 to put down the 
 rebellion; battle of Carthage, Mo. ; 10th, battle 
 of Laurel Hill; 11th, first battle of Bull Run; 
 Union army completely routed; 21st, second 
 battle of Bull Run; lasted ten hours, when panic 
 seized the Union army and they fled to Wash- 
 ington in disorder. The loss was : Confederates, 
 killed, 630; wounded, 2,235; missing, 150. 
 Union, killed. 1,011; wounded, 1,216; missing, 
 2,698. The numbers engaged were: Union, 
 65,000; Confederates in action, 47,000. This 
 was a terrible defeat for the Union army and a 
 victory for the Confederate . 
 
36 Immortelles. 
 
 August, 1861 — 2d, battle of Dug Spring, Mo. ; 
 4th, battle of Athens, Mo.; 7th, Hampton, Ya. r 
 burned by Confederates; 8th, battle of Wilson 
 Creek, Mo.; Union forces, 5,200; Confederate 
 forces, 1,500; after six hours' fighting, Confed- 
 erates were repulsed; 20th, skirmish of Hawks' 
 Nest, Va. ; Confederates engaged, 4,000; Union 
 men, 8,000; Union men routed; 28th, bom- 
 bardment and capture of Forts Clark and 
 Hatteras; Confederate loss, 765 prisoners and 
 1,000 stands of arms; 29th, Lexington, Mo., 
 attacked, but repulsed with heavy loss. 
 
 September, 1861 — 6th, Paducah, Ky. , occupied 
 by Union forces ; 10th, battle of Carnifere Ferry, 
 Ya. ; 20th, Colonel Mulligan surrendered at 
 Lexington, Mo., with 25,000 men, to the Con- 
 federates; 24th, Romney, Ya. , stormed and 
 captured by Union forces. 
 
 October, 1861— 3d, battle of Ball's Bluff; 21st, 
 battle of Wild Cat, Ky. ; 28th, battle of Crom- 
 well, Ky. 
 
 November, 1861— 7th, great naval fight of 
 Hilton Head; 8th, battle of Belmont, Mo. ; 11th, 
 battle of Piketon, Ky. 
 
 December, 1861 — 2d, naval engagement at 
 Newport News; 10th, shelling of Freestone 
 Point by Union gunboats ; 20th, battle of Drams- 
 ville, Mo. 
 
 January, 1862— 2d, battle of Port Royal 
 
Immortelles. 37 
 
 Island, S. C. ; 10th, battle of Middle Creek, Ky. : 
 19th, battle of Wall Spring, Ky., Confederate 
 loss 192 killed, 68 wounded, 98 prisoners, all 
 there were; Union loss, 39 killed, 207 wounded. 
 
 February, 1862. — 6th, Fort Henry captured 
 by Union troops ; 7th and 8th, battle of Roanoke 
 Island; Union loss, 50 killed, 222 wounded; 
 Confederate loss, 13 killed, 39 wounded and 
 2,527 prisoners; 13th, battle of Fort Donelson, 
 and captured on the 16th by Union forces; 
 Union loss, 146 killed, 1,735 wounded, 150 
 prisoners; Confederate loss, 227 killed, 1,007 
 wounded, 13,300 prisoners; 21st, battle near 
 Fort Craig, N. M. ; Union loss, 162 killed, 40 
 wounded. 
 
 March, 1862— 6th, 7th and 8th, battle of Pea 
 Ridge, Ark.; Union loss, 203 killed, 972 
 wounded, 176 missing; Confederate loss, 1,100 
 killed, 2,400 wounded, 1,000 prisoners; 9th, 
 first encounter of iron-clad vessels, Monitor and 
 Merrimac, on the Chesapeake Bay; Confederate 
 ship Merrimac defeated; 10th. Manassas, Va., 
 evacuated by Confederates ; 14th, battle of New- 
 berry, N. C; 23d, battle of Winchester, Va. ; 
 28th, battle of Valles Ranch, N. M. 
 
 April, 1862 — 6th and 7th, battle of Pittsburg 
 Landing; Union loss, 1,735 killed, 7,822 
 wounded, 4,044 missing; 8th and 9th, battle of 
 Perrvville, Mo. ; 15th, heavy fight between Lex- 
 
38 Immortelles. 
 
 ington and Richmond, Ky. ; 18th, Gren. J. LL 
 Morgan dashes into Lexington and captures 125 
 prisoners; 22d, battle of Marysville, Ark. 
 
 May, 1862 — 1st, New Orleans captured by 
 Union fleets; 5th, battle of Williams, Va. ; 8th, 
 battle of West Point, Ya. ; 10th, surrender of 
 Norfolk, Va. ; Gen. Butler captured $800,000 in 
 gold at New Orleans; 23d, battle of Front 
 Royal, Ya. ; 25th, battle of Winchester, Ya. ; 
 27th, battle of Corinth, Miss.; 31st, battle of 
 Fair Oaks, Ya., and battle of Seven Pines, Ya. 
 
 June, 1862— 4th, battle of Panther Creek, N. 
 C. ; 6th, great gunboat fight before Memphis, 
 Tenn., at the close of which Memphis surren- 
 dered to the Union army unconditionally; 8th r 
 battle of Cross Keys, Ya, ; 9th, battle of Port 
 Republic, Ya. ; 26th, battle of Mechanicsville, 
 Ya.; 27th, bombardment of Yicksburg, Miss. ; 
 30th, battle of White Oak Swamp. 
 . July, 1862— 1st, battle of Malvean Hill, the 
 last of the great seven days' battle before Rich- 
 mond; total Union loss was 16,224, of which 
 1,565 were killed; no account of the Confederate 
 losses; President Lincoln seemed to be alarmed 
 and called for 600,000 more men; 5th, bombard- 
 ment of Yicksburg, Miss. ; 17th, postage stamps 
 made a legal tender; 20th, Gren. J. H. Morgan 
 and forces overtaken and scattered. 
 August, 1862 — 4th, President Lincoln ordered 
 
Immortelles. 39 
 
 300,000 more men to be drafted; 5th, battle of 
 Baton Rouge, La. ; attack on Fort Donnelson, 
 Tenn.; 9th, battle of Cedar Mountain; 21st, 
 five Confederate regiments crossed the Rappa- 
 hannock and almost walked into the masked 
 batteries of General Seigel, which opened fire 
 on them of grape and canister, mowing them 
 down by scores, 700 being killed and 2,000 cap- 
 tured; great mistake; battle near Centerville, 
 Mo. ; Union forces evacuated Fredericksburg, 
 Va. ; 29th, battle of Groveton, near Bull Run, 
 Va. ; 30th, Groveton battle renewed; General 
 Pope defeated; Battle near Richmond, Ky. ; 
 Union forces defeated; 200 killed, 700 wounded 
 and 2,000 taken prisoners. 
 
 September, 1862 , battle near Chantilly, 
 
 Va. ; battle at Britton Lane, Tenn. ; 12th, Har- 
 per's Ferry invested by Confederates; 1-tth, 
 battle of South Mountain, Md. ; Union loss, 
 2,325; 15th, Harper's Ferry surrendered and 
 11,500 Union forces prisoners; 17th, battle of 
 Antietam; each army numbered about 100,000; 
 losses were heavy on each side; Munfordsville, 
 Ky., surrendered to Confederates; 4,600 pris- 
 oners; 20th, battle of Iuka, Miss.; 22d, Eman- 
 cipation proclamation issued by President 
 Lincoln. 
 
 October, 1862— 3d, battle of Corinth, Miss. ; 
 Union loss 2,359, Confederate loss 9,363. Three 
 
40 Immortelles. 
 
 thousand Confederates were buried on the field ; 
 it was fearful; 7th, Island No. 10, Missis- 
 sippi river, surrendered after twenty-three days' 
 bombardment; Confederate loss, 125 guns, 13 
 steamers, 10,000 small arms, 2,000 horses, 
 wagons, over 6,000 prisoners; 8th and 9th, 
 Shiloh; this was a famous and fearful battle; 
 on the second day General Albert Sidney John- 
 ston, in command of Confederates, fell on the 
 battlefield leading a desperate charge; 11th, 
 Pulaski surrendered after thirty hours' bom- 
 bardment; 16th, battle of Camden, S. C. ; 26th, 
 Commodore Farragut demanded the surrender 
 of New Orleans. 
 
 November, 1862— 1st, Artillery fight at Phil- 
 mont, Ya. ; 3d, reconuoissance at the base of 
 Blue Ridge ; Confederates driven into the river 
 and many drowned ; 16th, Capt. Dahlgren, with 
 fifty-four men, dashed into Fredericksburg, Ya.. 
 and surprised the Confederates; 21st, Sumner 
 demanded the surrender of Fiedericksburg, Ya. ; 
 27th, battle near Frankfort, Ya. ; 28th, battle of 
 Cane Hill, Ark. 
 
 December, 1862 — 1th, Winchester, Ya., cap- 
 tured by Union forces; 5th, battle near Coft'ee- 
 ville, Miss. ; 7th, battle of Prairie Grove, Ark. ; 
 11th, Fredericksburg, Ya., shelled by Union 
 forces; 12th, Fredericksburg captured; 13th, 
 battle of Fredericksburg, Ya, ; 29th, General 
 
Immortelles. 41 
 
 Sherman repulsed by the Confederates; 31st, 
 battle of Murfreesboro. 
 
 Pat and Mike, two brave Confederates, who 
 had been attached in times of peace, were 
 inseparable. One day, passing a coal shaft, Pat 
 fell into the dark pit. Mike was deeply grieved, 
 and called out: "Pat, if you are not dead, 
 speak to me." Pat replied? " I am not dead, 
 but sp'achless." 
 
 I overheard a lively discussion at Winchester, 
 Va., when "Old Stonewall" captured it in May, 
 1862, from "Quartermaster" Banks, between a 
 Federal Colonel, who was a prisoner, and a pri- 
 vate soldier in the Thirteenth Virginia Regiment. 
 
 After the discussion had progressed for some 
 time, the Colonel, with a considerable air of con- 
 fidence, said to "Johnny:" 
 
 "I will settle the discussion, sir, by asking you 
 just one question: ' Who fired the first gun in 
 this warV 
 
 As quick as a flash, the Confederate replied: 
 
 "John Brown, at Harper's Ferry, sir. He fired 
 the first gun. And Mr. Lincoln, in attempting to 
 re-enforce Sumpter, fired the second gun. And the 
 
42 Immortelles. 
 
 Confederates hare acted upon the defensive all the 
 time. We did not in rode your country; but you 
 
 invaded ours. You go home and attend to your 
 business, and leave us to attend ours, and the tear 
 trill dose at once." 
 
 The Bannek Song. 
 
 By James B. Marshall. 
 
 Up, Up! with the banner, the foe is before us! 
 
 His bayonets bristle; his sword is unsheathed. 
 Charge, charge! on his line with harmonious chorus, 
 
 For the prayers go with us that beauty hath breathed. 
 
 He fights for power, for despot and plunder, 
 While we are defending our altars and homes. 
 
 He has riven the firmly-knit Union asunder, 
 And to bind it with tyranny's fetters, he comes. 
 
 Like the Prophet Mokanna, whose veil so resplendent, 
 His monstrous deformity closely concealed, 
 
 Duplicity marks Lincoln's course, and dependent 
 On falsehood is every fair promise revealed. 
 
 When that veil shall be raised, freedom's last feast be taken, 
 A banquet to which all his followers will crowd, 
 
 Oh, horror of horrors! who can view it unshaken. 
 Without feeling we sit — all as suppliants bowed. 
 
 We do not forget, that they once were our brothers ; 
 
 That we sat in our boyhood around the same board; 
 That our hearts best idolatry blest the same mothers, 
 
 And to the same fathers libations were poured. 
 
Immortelles. 43 
 
 We rallied around the same star-spangled standard, 
 When called to the field by the tocsin of war, 
 
 But they from our side have unfeelingly wandered, 
 And we strip from our flag every recusant star. 
 
 They have forced us to stand by our own constitution ; 
 
 To defend our loved homesteads, our altars and fires, 
 While they tamely submit to a tyrant's pollution, 
 
 Beneath whose foul tread their freedom expires. 
 
 Then up with the banner! its broad stripes wide flowing; 
 
 'Tis the emblem of liberty — the flag of the free. 
 Let it wave us to triumph ; and every heart glowing, 
 
 Nerve each arm's bravest blow for our loved Tennessee. 
 
 Southern Girls' Song. 
 
 Air, "Bonnie Blue Flag." 
 
 Oh! yes, I am a Southern girl, I glory in the name 
 
 And boast it with far greater pride than glittering wealth 
 
 or fame. 
 I envy not the Northern girl her robes of beauty rare, 
 Though diamonds grace her snowy neck or pearls bedeck 
 
 her hair. 
 
 Chorus — Hurrah! hurrah for the Sunny South so dear, 
 Three cheers for the homespun dress that South- 
 ern ladies wear! 
 
 This homespun dress is plain I know — the hat quite com- 
 mon, too, 
 
 But then it proves what Southern girls for Southern rights 
 can do. 
 
 We've sent the bravest of our land to battle with the foe, 
 
 For we would lend a helping hand — we love the South you 
 know. 
 
44 Immortelles. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
 A soldier lad is the lad for me — a brave heart I adore, 
 And when the Sunny South is free, and fighting is no more, 
 I'll choose me then a lover brave from out that gallant band, 
 And the soldier lad I love the best shall have my heart and 
 hand. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
 And now, young men, one word to you; if you would win 
 
 the fair, 
 Go to the field where honor calls and win your lady there ; 
 Remember that our brightest smiles are for the true and 
 
 brave, 
 And that our tears will fall for one who fills a soldier's 
 
 grave. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
 The "Alabama" for some weeks played a 
 game of hide and seek with the Federal Cruiser 
 " Vanderbilt." When the latter would be in Si- 
 mon's Bay, the former would have business in 
 Table Bay. The Cape Town people say that 
 the Commander of the Vanderbilt did not want 
 to engage the Alabama from a feeling of sym- 
 pathy for bold Semmes. This mystery has 
 never been explained. 
 
Immortelles. 45 
 
 The Old Coat of Gray. 
 
 It lies there alone, it is rusted and faded, 
 
 With a patch in the elbow, a hole in the side ; 
 But we think of the brave boy who wore it, and ever 
 
 Look on it with pleasure and touch it with pride. 
 A history clings to it over and over, 
 
 We see a proud youth hurried off to the fray, 
 With his form like the oak, and his eye like the eagle's, 
 
 How gallant he rode in the ranks of " The Gray." 
 
 It is rough, it is worn, it is tattered in places, 
 
 But I love it the more for the story it bears — 
 A story of courage in struggle with sorrows, 
 
 And a heart that bore bravely its burden of cares. 
 It is ragged and rusty, but ah ! it was shining 
 
 In the silkiest sheen when he wore it away, 
 And his smile was as bright as the glad summer morning 
 
 When he sprang to his place in the ranks of " The Gray." 
 
 There's a rip in the sleeve and the collar is tarnished, 
 
 The buttons all gone with their glitter and gold; 
 'Tis a thing of the past, and we reverently lay it 
 
 Away with the treasures and relics of old 
 As the gifts of a love, solemn, sweet and unspoken 
 
 Are cherished as leaves from a long vanished day; 
 We will keep the old jacket for the sake of the loved one 
 
 Who rode in the van in the ranks of " The Gray." 
 
 Shot through with a bullet, right here in the shoulder, 
 
 And down there the pocket is splintered and soiled. 
 Ah! more, see the lining is stained and discolored, 
 
 Yes; blood drops the texture have stiffened and spoiled, 
 It came when he rode at the head of the column 
 
 Charging down in the battle one deadliest day 
 When the squadrons of foemen were broken assunder, 
 
 And victory rode with the ranks of " The Gray." 
 
 Its memory is sweetened and sorrow commingled, 
 To me it is precious, more precious than gold; 
 
46 Immortelles, 
 
 In the rent and shot- shells a volumn is written, 
 
 In the stains on the lining is agony told 
 That was ten years ago, when in life's summer morning 
 
 He rode with his comrades into the fray; 
 And the old coat he wore, and the good sword he wielded 
 
 Were all that came back from the ranks of " The Gray." 
 
 And it lies there alone, I will reverence it ever 
 
 The patch on the elbow, the hole in the side, 
 For a gallanter heart never breathed than the loved one 
 
 Who wore it in honor and soldierly pride ; 
 Let me brush off the dust from its tatters and tarnish, 
 
 Let me fold it up closely and lay it away — 
 It is all that is left of the loved and the lost one 
 
 Who fought for the right in the ranks of " The Gray." 
 
 HlSTOKICAL CUKIOSITY. 
 
 It is a singular fact that a complete outline his- 
 tory of the Confederacy is embraced in the 
 names of all the States composing it, to-wit: 
 Alabama, Arkansas, Florida, Georgia, Ken- 
 tucky, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, North 
 Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas and 
 Virginia, and is obtained in the following man- 
 ner : 
 
 NATIONAL TITLE. 
 
 Confederate States of America. 
 
 CAPITAL. 
 
 Richmond, Ya. 
 
Immortelles. 4< 
 
 GOVERNMENT INSTITUTED. 
 
 February Eighteen, Eighteen Sixty-One. 
 
 ADMINISTRATION. 
 
 Davis, President; Stephens, Vice-President; 
 Hunter, Secretary; Memminger, Treasurer. 
 
 EMBASSADORS. 
 
 Mason, Slidell. 
 
 ARMY. 
 
 Confederate States Army. 
 
 NAVY. 
 
 Confederate States Navy. 
 
 ENSIGNS. 
 
 Stars and Bars, the Starry Cross. 
 
 CAUSES OF THE WAR COMBINED. 
 
 National Interference in States' Rights. 
 
 WHEN THE WAR COMMENCED. 
 
 April Fourteenth, Eighteen Sixty-One. 
 
 WHERE THE WAR COMMENCED. 
 
 Fort Sumter, South Carolina. 
 
 THREE LEADING GENERALS. 
 
 Lee, Beauregard, A. P. Hill. 
 
 THREE GREAT BATTLES OF THE WAR. 
 
 Manassas, Gettysburg, Shiloh. 
 
 THREE LEADING NAVAL OFFICERS. 
 
 Semmes, Buchanan, Mitchell. 
 
 THREE BEST NAVAL VESSELS. 
 
 Merrimac, Alabama, Arkansas. 
 
 THREE DISTINGUISHED NAVAL ACTIONS. 
 
 Hampton Roads, Cherbourg, G-alVeston. 
 
48 Immortelles. 
 
 THREE NOTED SIEGES. 
 
 Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Lexington. 
 
 THREE DESTRUCTIVE BOMBARDMENTS 
 
 Charleston, Mobile, Saint Phillip. 
 
 THREE DISTINGUISHED PRIVATE SOLDIERS. 
 
 Chestnut, Pelham, Mumford. 
 
 THREE STATE CAPITALS NOT CAPTURED DURING 
 THE WAR. 
 
 Tallahassee, Fla. ; Austin, Texas; Montgomery, 
 
 Ala. 
 
 THREE OF THE OLDEST SOUTHERN NEWSPAPERS 
 NOT SUPPRESSED DURING THE WAR. 
 
 Mercury (Charleston), Examiner (Richmond), 
 Register (Mobile.) 
 
 WHEN THE WAR CLOSED. 
 
 April Ninth, Eighteen Sixty-Five. 
 
 WHERE THE WAR CLOSED. 
 
 Appomattox, Va. 
 
 War and peace are met togother, 
 Gray and Blue salute each other. 
 
 J. Phin Wilson. 
 Padueah, (Ky.) Vol. C. S. A. 
 
 General Beauregard's Will. 
 -•I (lire to the city of Charleston, S. C, if ac- 
 ceptable to' it, tJ/e sword which was presented to 
 
Immortelles. 49 
 
 me by the ladies of New Orleans in 1861, for the 
 capture of Fort Sumter." 
 
 The city council of Charleston sent a commit- 
 tee to New Orleans for the sword, and when 
 they returned it was formally presented to the 
 citizens by the mayor at a large public meeting. 
 All the survivors, the militia, bearing draped 
 flags, the mayor and aldermen, brought it to the 
 hall where the citizens were assembled. Church 
 bells were tolled and cannons fired. 
 
 The Southern Cross. 
 
 A. S. MORTON, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA. 
 
 Freedom's blazing constellation 
 Welcomed by the acclamation 
 Of a giant infant nation, 
 Rose the Southern Cross. 
 
 Aye, to keep it where they found it 
 In the heavens! Ne'er to ground it, 
 Swore ten thousand madly 'round it — 
 'Round the Southern Cross." 
 
 And our hopes grew higher, higher, 
 For the end seemed drawing nigher, 
 When, above Manassas' fire, 
 Waved the Southern Cross. 
 
 Matchless chiefs (a world admiring), 
 Wondrous deed of valor firing, 
 
 i. —4 
 
50 Immortelles. 
 
 'Neath its blazing light inspiring, 
 Led the Southern Cross. 
 
 And our hopes grew higher, higher, 
 For the end seemed drawing nigher, 
 When, above Manassas' fire, 
 Waved the Southern Cross. 
 
 'Mid the battle's lurid glaring, 
 Where the torch of war was flaring ; 
 Everywhere were deeds of daring — 
 Gleamed the Southern Cross. 
 
 And the Northern heavens paling, 
 While the stoutest of them, quailing, 
 Watched in terror unavailing- 
 Shone the Southern Cross. 
 
 O'er the dead and with the dying, 
 . In the face of f oemen flying, 
 "Down for aye with tyrants!" crying- 
 Swept the Southern Cross. 
 
 Heroes bore it, proud to wave it, 
 Glad to give their blood to lave it. 
 Trusty swords were bared to save it- 
 Save the Southern Cross. 
 
 Gallant lads their faith defending, 
 Careless of the faith impending, 
 Sank to rest with angels tending — 
 'Neath the Southern Cross. 
 
 Lost was all for which we'd striven. 
 Like a bolt from heaven driven, 
 Like the oak by lightning riven, 
 Fell the Southern Cross. 
 
 Ages hence will tell the story, 
 How, tho' tattered, torn and gory, 
 In a sea of blazing glory, 
 Set the Southern Cross. 
 
Immortelles, 51 
 
 A Faithful Servant. 
 
 At the battle of Chicahominy, when General 
 Rhodes' brigade had driven the enemy from 
 their redoubts, and had captured the guns, the 
 General was wounded in the arm, but would not 
 leave the field, or make known his injury to his 
 troops. Becoming weak, he espied an Arkansas 
 negro, named Archie, manfully fighting behind 
 his master, and ordered him to bring him water 
 from a distant well. Mounting a horse, Archie 
 dashed off to the well under a shower of bullets, 
 and soon returned. The regiment to which he 
 was attached (Twelfth Mississippi) was soon af- 
 terward ordered to occupy one of the captured 
 redoubts, and to hold it at all hazards. Some 
 of the companies being in want of ammunition, 
 Archie again volunteered his services, and under 
 a murderous fire went fully one mile to the rear 
 and returned to the redoubts loaded down with 
 haversacks filled with cartridges. This noble 
 deed was rewarded with hearty cheers from the 
 whole brigade. 
 
52 Immortelles. 
 
 The Bonnie Blue Flag. 
 
 Harry Macarthy. 
 
 We are a band of brothers, and native to the soil — 
 
 Fighting for our property, we gained by honest toil ; 
 
 And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near 
 
 and far. 
 Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a single star. 
 Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern rights, hurrah! 
 Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. 
 
 As long as the Union was faithful to her trust, 
 
 Like friends and like brothers, kind we were and just, 
 
 But now, when Northern treachery attempts our rights to 
 
 mar, 
 We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a single 
 
 star. 
 
 [Chorus— Hurrah! etc.] 
 
 First, gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand ; 
 Then came Alabama, and took her by the hand. 
 Next, quickly Mississippi, Georgia and Florida, 
 All raised on high the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a single 
 star. 
 
 [Chorus— Hurrah! hurrah! etc. | 
 
 Ye men of valor, gather 'round the banner of the right — 
 Texas and fair Louisiana shall join us in the fight. 
 Davis, our loved President, and Stephens, statesman rare, 
 Now rally 'round the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a single 
 star. 
 
 [Chorus— Hurrah ! hurrah ! ] 
 And here's to brave Virginia, the Old Dominion State, 
 With the young Confederacy at length has joined her fate. 
 Impelled by her example, now other States prepare 
 To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single 
 star. 
 
 [Chorus- Hurrah ! hurrah ! J 
 
Immortelles. 53 
 
 Then, here's to the Confederacy — strong we are and brave. 
 Like patriots of old, we fight our heiritage to save, 
 And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer. 
 So cheer for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star. 
 
 [Chorus— Hurrah ! hurrah ! ] 
 
 Then cheer, boys, cheer! Raise the joyous shout. 
 Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out; 
 And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given; 
 The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be 
 
 eleven. 
 Hurrah for Southern rights, hurrah! 
 Hurrah! for the Bonnie Blue Flag has gained the eleventh 
 
 star! 
 
 The Mule Balked. 
 
 Our regiment was in camp at Harper's Ferry, 
 and one bright morning a comrade and I se- 
 cured permission to visit a farm house some dis- 
 tance away where we knew there was some 
 poultry. We rode horses and had some money 
 in our pockets to purchase the chickens and 
 turkeys — for on this occasion we had made up 
 our minds to forego foraging, but later circum- 
 stances arose that made it necessary to forget 
 our good resolutions. Turning our horses into 
 a grass field near the house, we left them to 
 graze at will. We met the farmer on an old- 
 
54 Immortelles. 
 
 fashioned porch that ran the whole front of the 
 quaint farm house. I told the farmer we had 
 come to try some of his poultry, at which his 
 Southern blood began to boil. He swore he 
 would rather see every chicken and turkey rot 
 before he would sell to any blamed Yankee for 
 a thousand times their worth. That settled it 
 with us. Our Northern blood had reached fire 
 heat. We could not stand such an insult, and 
 went straightway to the barn, where a fine lot 
 of fowls were pecking grain. It did not take us 
 long to tie the legs of a goodly number of 
 chickens and turkeys. As I was in the act of 
 tying up the legs of a proud gobbler, I looked up, 
 and to my dismay saw coming up the lane a 
 small company of Confederate cavalry. I took 
 in the situation at a glance. I knew we had not 
 time to reach our horses, and to escape on foot 
 was impossible. In the barn-yard were two fine 
 sleek mules. Throwing my string of fowls over 
 the back of one, and jumping astride the 
 animal, I shouted to "Bill/' my comrade, to 
 follow my example. He did so, and I took the 
 lead for the camp. The mule I was on had 
 taken but a few jumps, when I heard ''Bill" 
 shout, "Holy smoke! he's balked, Jim." The 
 Johnnies were close at hand. I shouted back, 
 "Crawl on his neck Bill, and chaw his ear!" 
 Bill lost no time in trying the experiment. He 
 
Immortelles. 55 
 
 got the end of the animal's long ear into his 
 
 mouth and began operations. The mule gave a 
 squeal like that of a stuck pig, and rushed 
 madly after its mate; I was riding for dear life. 
 Suddenly I saw something" loom up and rush 
 past me. It was "Bill" and his mule. Bill's 
 teeth were imbedded in the animal's ear and 
 blood trickled down the side of its head. Bill 
 was all humped upon his mad steed and pre- 
 sented a most ludicrous sight. The turkeys 
 flopped their wings and the chickens made a 
 terrible clatter, which only served to make the 
 mule go faster. I heard the Johnnie's behind 
 us laugh. They tired at us. but we were not 
 hit. I am sure they could not have hit " Bill." 
 Through the picket line of our regiment and on 
 through the camp went •• Bill's" mule, the 
 fowls bobbing up and down at every jump. I 
 gathered all my lung powers and shouted, "Let 
 go the mule's ear Bill, we are safe." Bill heard 
 me and let go ; he finally stopped the mule ; he 
 had chewed off half his ear. Bill allowed it 
 was the toughest bit of meat he had ever tackled, 
 but that night lie got square on roast turkey 
 and chicken. We lost two of the best horse- 
 in our army. 
 
56 Immortelles. 
 
 History of Postage Stamps Used in the 
 Confederate States of America. 
 
 South Carolina seceded December 20, 1860, and 
 was quickly followed by Mississippi, Alabama, 
 Florida, Georgia and Louisiana. Jefferson Davis 
 Avas elected President, and was inaugurated at 
 Montgomery, Ala., February 18, 1861. Up to 
 the firing on Fort Sumter (April 11), the postal 
 affairs seem to have been carried on with fair 
 regularity. Letters continued to be mailed 
 throughout the South, bearing United States 
 stamps, during the first few months of 1861, but 
 the supply of these stamps was soon exhausted, 
 and most of the postmasters were soon unable 
 to furnish stamps or envelopes. To those situ- 
 ated in small towns this made but little differ- 
 ence, but in commercial centers much incon- 
 venience was realized. An agent of a prominent 
 bank note company of New York City was in 
 Montgomery, Ala., in February, 1861, for the 
 purpose of making a contract to supply stamps 
 to the new government, but the bombardment 
 of Fort Sumter made it evident that goods 
 could not be delivered, and negotiations were 
 discontinued. The Confederate government suc- 
 ceeded, however, in buying a large quanity of 
 paper in New York City, which was forwarded 
 to Louisville, Ky., and tVom there run through 
 
Immortelles. 57 
 
 to Montgomery, Ala. This paper was afterward 
 used for the manufacture of stamps issued by 
 the general government. On the 11th of March, 
 1861, the permanent constitution was adopted 
 by Congress, and in it was a clause providing 
 that the post-office department must pay its own 
 expenses, from its own resources, after the 1st 
 day of March, 1863. The postofnce department 
 was at once organized with John H. Reagan as 
 postmaster-general, but its chief work devolved 
 upon H. St. George Offutt, who, from his long 
 connection with the postofnce department, was 
 eminently fitted to perform the difficult task. 
 Mr. (Mutt occupied the position of chief clerk 
 of the auditor's office at the secession of South 
 Carolina, but relinquished that position to join 
 the Confederate army, although his native State 
 (Missouri) did not leave the Union. The valu- 
 able library of postal works (the only complete 
 one in the United States) which he took with 
 him must have been of incalculable benefit in 
 starting such a complicated machine as a post- 
 office department for a large country. However, 
 on the 1st of June, 1861, we find the depaitment 
 prepared with every thing necessary for the suc- 
 cessful operation of the offices contained within 
 its territory. 
 
 The following gentlemen occupied the princi- 
 pal positions in the new department: John H. 
 
58 Immortelles, 
 
 Reagan, postmaster-general; B. Fuller, chief 
 clerk; H. St. Or. (Mutt, chief of the contract 
 bureau; J. L. Harrell, chief of finance bureau; 
 B. N. Clements, chief of appointment bureau; 
 Boiling Baker, auditor. Most of the old United 
 States postmasters were retained on their taking 
 the oath of allegiance to the Confederate States, 
 and in one case at least a competent man was 
 allowed to keep his post without taking the pre- 
 scribed oath. The few Union men who held 
 office at the South were compelled to retain their 
 office until new appointments could be made. 
 A majority of the postmasters remitted the full 
 amount due the United States postoffice depart- 
 ment up the 31st of June, and returned all the 
 stamps and postoffice property that was in their 
 charge. Others either kept the property or 
 turned it over to the Confederate department. 
 
 Subsequently the department issued a circu- 
 lar ordering all postmasters to send all United 
 States property, stamps, etc., to Richmond, 
 where they were utilized in various ways ; but 
 this was not until after the war began. Many 
 of the most enterprising postmasters in the 
 South asked and obtained permission to issue 
 stamps pending the preparation of those by the 
 Confederate government. Probably some of the 
 postmasters of the smaller towns issued stamps 
 and stamped envelopes on their own responsi- 
 
Immortelles. 59 
 
 bility. The following letters will show how and 
 
 why postmasters were obliged to make these 
 
 stamps : 
 
 "Dear Sir — In reply to your note of the 12th 
 
 inst., I would say that the stamps you inclosed 
 
 me were got up by me here in Memphis. When 
 
 Tennessee passed the ordinance of secession the 
 
 old government stamps were worthless, and, as 
 
 I found it impossible to get along without 
 
 stamps, I asked and procured the consent of the 
 
 government at Richmond to get up temporary 
 
 stamps until the postmaster-general could furnish 
 
 me with regular stamps. Those you inclosed 
 
 me were in use several months, and were the 
 
 only ones used. A stamp was shortly afterward 
 
 manufactured at Richmond, after which those 
 
 issued were taken in and destroyed. 
 
 "M. C. Galloway. 
 "Memphis, July 17." 
 
 The general government issued the first Con- 
 federate postage stamps on October 18th, 1861, 
 a 5-cent green stamp. This was soon followed 
 by the 10-cent blue stamp, the 2-cent green 
 stamp, and, the green ink being exhausted, 
 printed in blue and in red. All these stamps 
 were prepared by Messrs. Hoyen & Ludwig, 
 of Richmond, Va. Later on Messrs. De La Rue 
 & Co. prepared the plates and furnished the 
 stamps of the 5-cent blue and a 1-cent orange, 
 
60 Immortelles. 
 
 which was never used. The plates of the 5-cent 
 blue were afterward used by Messrs. Archer & 
 Daly in printing the regular supply. They fur- 
 nished also the 10-cent blue stamp, three varie- 
 ties, and the 20-cent green. A short time after 
 the first 10-cent blue stamp was issued, Presi- 
 dent Davis met Colonel Offut and asked him if 
 he remembered A. W. Brown's objection to the 
 portrait. Upon an affirmative answer being 
 given, the President remarked: "I was walk- 
 ing across the park to-day, on my way to my 
 office, when I met a tall North Carolina soldier, 
 who accosted me: 'Is your name Davis!' 
 'Yes.' 'President Davis?' 'Yes.' 'I thought 
 so, you look so much like a postage stamp.' " 
 In addition to their use as postage stamps, 
 they were used as small change by the soldiers 
 and citizens, just as United States postage stamps 
 were sent through the lines by special arrange- 
 ment between the United States of America and 
 the Confederate States of America. The follow- 
 ing notice is a sample : 
 
 To Those Who Wish to Send Letters North : 
 
 Headquarters, Department of Norfolk. 
 
 Norfolk, January 9, 1862- 
 Person wishing to send letters to the United States will 
 observe the following directions : 
 
 1. Letters must have on the envelope, in addition to the 
 address of the person to whom they are intended, " Via 
 Norfolk and Flag of Truce." 
 
Immortelles. 61 
 
 2. Write no more than one page. 
 
 3. Enclose money to pay the United States postage. 
 
 4. Do not address letters to Gen. Huger. 
 
 Benj. Huger, Jr., 
 First Lieutenant and V. D. C. 
 
 In May, 1865, the plates, stamps, archives, 
 etc., were surrendered to the United States au- 
 thorities at Chester, S. C, and were probably 
 transferred to Washington. The full history of 
 the Post-Office Department of the Confederate 
 States cannot be written until these archives are 
 open for examination. 
 
 Six months elapsed between the firing on 
 Fort Sumter (April 11, 1861), and the issue 
 of the stamps by the general government (Oc- 
 tober 18, 1861), and the mails were transfeired 
 regularly. Many millions of letters were for- 
 warded during that time. The bulk of these 
 were probably destroyed at the time, but there 
 must still be in existence an enormous quantity 
 of letters bearing the stamps used at that period. 
 
 The following oath was administered to the 
 
 members of a volunteer company during the war: 
 
 ' ' You solemnly swear to obey, fight for and 
 
 maintain the laws of the Confederate govern- 
 
62 Immortelles. 
 
 ment and Constitution, and support John W. 
 Dean for Captain of this company.' 7 
 
 Upon inquiry it was learned that the reason 
 the last clause was inserted, was because he had 
 been quite active in getting up a company be- 
 fore, and when they elected their officers he was 
 left out. and he wanted to make sure. 
 
 GUBEENATOBIAL COXFEDEEATES . 
 
 David P. Lewis (signer of Confederate Constitu- 
 tion), Governor of Alabama 1872-74. 
 
 Williamson R. W. Cobb, member of Confed- 
 erate Congress), Governor of Alabama 1878-82. 
 
 Edward A. O'Neal (Brigadier General), Gov- 
 ernor of Alabama 1882-86. 
 
 Augustus H. Garland (member of both houses 
 of Confederate Congress), Governor of Arkan- 
 sas 1875-77. 
 
 T. J. Churchill (Brigadier General), Governor 
 of Arkansas 1881-83. 
 
 Edward A. Perry (Brigadier General), Gov- 
 ernor of Florida 1885-89. 
 
 Charles J. Jenkins (State Supreme Court, 
 Judge of Georgia during Confederacy), Gover- 
 nor of Georgia 1865-68. 
 
Immortelles. 63 
 
 Rufus B. Bullock (Acting Assistant Quarter- 
 master-General. ) 
 
 James M. Smith (member of Confederate Con- 
 gress), Governor of Georgia 1872-76. 
 
 Alexander H. Stephens (Vice-President), Gov- 
 ernor of Georgia 1882-83. 
 
 John B. Gordon (Lieutenant General), Gov- 
 ernor of Georgia 1886-90. 
 
 Alfred H. Colquitt (Brigadier General^, Gov- 
 ernor of Georgia 1876-82. 
 
 Simon B. Buckner (Lieutenant General), 
 Governor of Kentucky 1887-91. 
 
 Francis T. Nichols (Brigadier General), Gov- 
 ernor of Louisiana 1877-80, 1888-92. 
 
 Benjamin G. Humphreys (Brigadier General), 
 Governor of Mississippi 1865-68. 
 
 James L. Alcorn (Brigadier General of Mis- 
 sissippi State troops during Confederacy), Gov- 
 ernor of Mississippi 1869-71. 
 
 Robert Lowery (Brigadier General), Governor 
 of Mississippi, 1882-90. 
 
 John S. Marmaduke (Major General), Gov- 
 ernor of Missouri 1885-87. 
 
 Zebulon B. Vance ("War Governor"), Gov- 
 ernor of North Carolina 1877-79. 
 
 Alfred M. Scales (Brigadier General), Gov- 
 ernor of North Carolina 1885-89. 
 
 Benjamin F. Perry (Confederate District 
 JudgeJ, Governor of South Carolina 1865-66. 
 
64 Immortelles. 
 
 James L. Orr (member of Confederate senatej , 
 G-overnor of South Carolina 1866-69. 
 
 Wade Hampton ( Lieutenant G-eneral), Gov- 
 ernor of South Carolina 1876-78. 
 
 William D. Sempson (member of Confederate 
 Congress), Governor of South Carolina 1878-80. 
 
 Johnson Hagood (Brigadier General), Gov- 
 ernor of South Carolina 1880-82. 
 
 John C. Brown (Major General), G-overnor 
 of Tennessee 1871-75. 
 
 William B. Bate (Major General), Governer 
 of Tennessee 1883-87. 
 
 James W. Throckmorton (Brigadier General 
 of Texas State troops), Governor of Texas 
 1866-91. 
 
 James L. Kemper (Major General), Governor 
 of Virginia 1871-78. 
 
 Lawrence S. Ross (Brigadier General), Gov- 
 ernor of Texas 1887-91. 
 
 F. W. M. Holliday (member of Confederate 
 congress), Governor of Virginia 1878-82. 
 
 Fitzhugh Lee (Major General), Governor of 
 Virginia 1886-90. 
 
 X ames of other governors who were Confed- 
 erate officers: 
 
 Governor Thomas Seay. who was governor of 
 Alabama 1886-90. 
 
 Governor Cameron. 
 
 ( rovernor McKinney. 
 
Immortelles. 65 
 
 Governor O'Ferrall. 
 
 G-ov. Stone, of Mississippi. 
 
 James S. Boyton, Governor of Georgia 1883. 
 
 Henry McDaniel (Major), 1883. 
 
 W. J. Northen, Governor 1890-91. 
 
 Col. Peter Richardson, Governor South Caro- 
 lina 1886. 
 
 Carter L. Stevenson, Governor West Virginia 
 1877-81. 
 
 James P. McCreary. 
 
 Lnke P. Blackburn. 
 
 Oh, He's Nothing But a Soldier. 
 
 By a Young Rebel Esquire. (Air: "Annie Laurie.") 
 
 Oh, he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 But he's coming here to-night, 
 For I saw him pass this morning, 
 
 With his uniform so bright. 
 He was coming in from picket. 
 
 Whilst he sang a sweet refrain, 
 And he kissed his hand to some one 
 
 Peering through the window-pane. 
 
 Ah! he rode no dashing charger, 
 
 "With a black and flowing mane," 
 But his bayonet glistened brightly 
 
 As the sun lit up the plain. 
 No waving plume or feather, 
 
 Flashed its crimson in the light. 
 He belongs to the light infantry, 
 
 And he came to the war to fight. 
 
 i. — 5 
 
66 Immortelles. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier; 
 
 His trust is in his sword — 
 To carve his way to glory 
 
 Through the servile Yankee horde. 
 No pompous pageant heralds him, 
 
 No sycophants attend. 
 In his belt you see his body guard, 
 
 His tried and trusty friend. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 And a stranger in our land. 
 His home is in the Sunny South, 
 
 By the blue gulf's golden strand. 
 But I wish I knew his people — 
 
 Some little of his past — 
 For father's always telling me 
 
 About our social caste. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 But his eyes are very fine, 
 And I some times think, when passing, 
 
 They are piercing into mine. 
 Pshaw, he's nothing but a soldier; 
 
 Come, let me be discreet; 
 But really, for a soldier, 
 
 His toilet 's very neat. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier; 
 
 But last night he came to tea— 
 What an interesting soldier — 
 
 But then he's rather free; 
 'Twas 2 o'clock this morning 
 
 Before he took his leave. 
 He has my ring — the fellow — 
 
 But what's the use to grieve. 
 
 He has been again to see us — 
 
 This gentleman in gray. 
 He calls to see us often — 
 
Immortelles. 
 
 Our house is on his way. 
 At times he sadly seeks the shade 
 
 Of yonder grove of trees. 
 I watched him once — this soldier — 
 
 I saw him on his knees. 
 
 One day last week I asked him 
 
 To tell me of his home. 
 He answered, pointing to his camp, 
 
 " Where'er these brave ones roam. 
 I asked him once to tell me 
 
 Of his mother, sisters, dear. 
 A funeral cortege passed along — 
 
 Said he: "You have them here." 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 But this I know right well: 
 He has a heart of softness, 
 
 Where tender virtues dwell ; 
 For once when we were talking, 
 
 And no one else was near, 
 I saw him very plainly 
 
 Try to hide a starting tear. 
 
 We were speaking of Manassas — 
 
 That first great bloody day, 
 When a handful of our brave ones 
 
 Held the Yankee hosts at bay. 
 'Twas here he lost his aged sire, 
 
 While fighting by his side. 
 He sleeps beneath the crimson turf 
 
 Where rolled that bloody tide. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 But within that eye so clear 
 
 There lurks no craven spirit — 
 No timid glance of fear. 
 
 For though, at pity's pleading, 
 It can melt with tender light, 
 
68 Immortelles. 
 
 I've seen it flash like lightning 
 Across the brow of night. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 Such as pass us every day. 
 He calls them "ragged rebels," 
 
 But, you know, that's just his way. 
 But there's one thing very funny — 
 
 One thing I can't explain — 
 That when this soldier goes away, 
 
 I wish him back again. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier — 
 
 A stranger yet to fame. 
 But they tell me in the army 
 
 That the "boys" all know his name. 
 The Yankees, too, have heard it. 
 
 They dread his battle shout; 
 They have no wish to meet him — 
 
 This dreaded Southern scout. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 Yet, you'd call his features good. 
 That cut he got at West Point, 
 
 While fighting under Hood. 
 He has a halting in his gait— 
 
 A trifle in the knee — 
 He brought it back from Sharpsburg, 
 
 Where he went with General Lee. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 But his triumphs are not few. 
 He has seen our glorious battle-flag, 
 
 In all its trials through. 
 At Seven Pines he followed it— 
 
 On the fights at Gaines' Mill, 
 At Williamsburg, at West Point, 
 
 In the smoke at Malvern Hill. 
 
Immortelles. 69 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 But then its very queer, 
 I feel somehow, when absent, 
 
 I'd rather have him near. 
 He's gone to meet the foeman— 
 
 To stay the bloody track. 
 Oh! Heaven shield the soldier! 
 
 Oh! God, let him come back! 
 
 He is back again— the soldier — 
 
 With his eyes so deep and clear, 
 And his voice, like falling waters, 
 
 Maketh music to my ear. 
 One empty coat- sleeve dangles 
 
 Where once a stout arm grew, 
 But the soldier says in "hugging" 
 
 He has no use for two. 
 
 Oh! he's nothing but a soldier, 
 
 And I know that on his form 
 He bears the scars of conflict 
 
 Of many a battle storm, 
 But I wouldn't give this soldier. 
 
 In his simple, humble home, 
 For all your useless "dandies" 
 
 That strut about the town. 
 
 He's back again— this soldier- 
 He's sitting by my side. 
 
 To-morrow, "Ho! for Texas!" 
 With his young Virginia bride. 
 
 True, he's nothing but a soldier, 
 But I'm now his loving wife, 
 
 Pledged, through good report or evil, 
 To dwell with him through life. 
 
70 immortelles. 
 
 The Boy Soldier. 
 
 During the battle of Chaucellorville a Confed- 
 erate major met a lad returning from the front. 
 His arm, held by shreds of flesh, was dangling 
 from the elbow. "Mister," said the boy to the 
 officer, "can't you cut this thing off? It keeps 
 knocking against the trees, and it's might' ly in 
 my way." The major dismounted, cut off the 
 useless limb, and tied a strap of his blouse around 
 the stump to stop the bleeding. "What regi- 
 ment do you belong to?" he asked his thankful 
 patient. "I belong to that North Carolina regi- 
 ment in there," answered the lad, pointing to 
 where the battle was raging. "I am just sixteen, 
 and this is my first fight. Don't you think it 
 was hard I should get hit the first time I ever 
 was in battle? We drove them out of the line 
 of breastworks, and I was on top of the second 
 when I got hit." 
 
 My Warrior Boy. 
 
 Thou hast gone forth, my darling one, 
 
 To battle with the brave, 
 To strike in Freedom's sacred cause, 
 
 Or win an early grave. 
 With vet'rans grim and stalwart men 
 
 Thy pathway lieth now, 
 
Immortelles. 71 
 
 Though fifteen summers scarce have shed 
 Their blossoms on thy brow. 
 
 My babe in years, my warrior boy! 
 
 Oh, if a mother's tears 
 Could call thee back to be my joy 
 
 And still these anxious fears, 
 I'd dash the traitor drops away, 
 
 That would unnerve thy hand, 
 Now raised to strike in freedom's cause 
 
 For thy dear native land ! / 
 
 God speed thee on thy course, my boy, 
 
 Where'er thy pathway lie, 
 And guard thee when the leaden hail 
 
 Shall thick around thee fly. 
 But when our sacred cause is won 
 
 And peace again shall reign, 
 Come back to me, my darling son, 
 
 And light my life again. 
 
 At the commencement of the year 1861 there 
 were, on the Northern coast, one vessel, and 
 forty-two in the United States navy. At the 
 close of the vear there were 264. 
 
 Battles in Tkans-Mississippi Depaetment. 
 
 J. A. MATHES, SENECA, MO. 
 
 At the battle of Wilson's Creek the Federals 
 
 were completely routed. They left General 
 
 Lyons dead on the field, lying in the hot sun, 
 
 with a handkerchief over his face. Bailey Arm- 
 
72 Immortelles. 
 
 strong and comrade, Arch Sevier, discovered 
 him. Sevier was acquainted with G-eneral Lyons 
 in St. Louis, and, seeing the epaulets, he raised 
 the handkerchief and recognized him. He and 
 Armstrong carried him to the shade, 
 
 Our cavalry followed the enemy to the railroad 
 at Rolla, about fifty or seventy-five miles away, 
 capturing many of them. They lost two to our 
 one at Wilson's Creek, although not more than 
 two-thirds of us were armed. 
 
 We were not whipped at all at Pea Ridge- 
 R. M. Johnson, my Captain, heard Glen. Price 
 ask Gen. Van Dorn for two hours in which to 
 rout them, but Van Dorn ordered him to fall 
 back. Gen. Price turned his horse with tears 
 in his eyes. 
 
 At Prairie Grove we whipped the enemy from 
 early morn until dark, driving them from every 
 position . We killed and wounded as many again 
 as they did of us ; yet at midnight we were or- 
 dered to march by daylight when we retreated 
 again. One-third of the army would go no 
 further south, as they could see nothing to run 
 from. 
 
 If we could have had "Pap" Price in command 
 this side of the river there would be a different 
 tale to tell. 
 
Immortelles. 73 
 
 Quantkell's Call. 
 
 Air, Pirate's Serenade. 
 
 Up, comrades up, the moon is in the west, 
 And we must be gone at the dawn of the day, 
 
 The hounds of old Pennoc shall find but the nest, 
 For the Quantrell they seek shall be far, far away; 
 
 Their toils after us shall ever be vain, 
 
 Let them scout through the brush and scour the plain, 
 
 We'll pass through their midst in the deep of the night, 
 
 We're lions in combat, and eagles in flight. 
 
 Chorus — Then arouse, my brave band, up, up and away, 
 Press hard on the foe at the dawn of the day, 
 Look well to your steeds, so gallant in chase; 
 They may never give o'er till they win well 
 the race. 
 
 When Pennoc is weary and the chase given o'er, 
 We'll come as a thunderbolt comes in a cloud; 
 We'll trample, we'll rout, we'll bathe in their gore, 
 We'll smite the oppressor and humble the proud. 
 But few shall escape us, but few shall be spared, 
 For keen are our sabre's which vengeance hath bared. 
 None are so mighty, so strong in the flight, 
 As our warrior's who battle for Southern rights. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
 The brush is our homes, the green sod our bed, 
 Our drink from the river, and roots for our bread. 
 We pine not for more, we bow not the head, 
 For freedom is ever within the green wood. 
 The tyrants shan't conquer, the fetter's shan't bind, 
 For true are our rifles, our steeds like the wind. 
 We'll shield not the sword, we'll draw not the rein 
 'Till the Federals are banished from Missouri again. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
74 Immortelles. 
 
 Battles and Skirmishes Fought During the 
 Civil War. 
 
 In Pennsylvania, 2; Marryland, 17; District 
 of Columbia, 1; Virginia, 240; West Virginia, 
 52; Kentucky, 46; Tennessee, 110; Missouri, 
 109; Arkansas, 51; South Carolina, 18; North 
 Carolina, 32; Louisiana, 33; Mississippi, 84; 
 Alabama, 19; Florida, 15; Ohio, 2; Indiana, 
 2: Illinois, 1; Texas, 4; Indian Territory, 2; 
 Kansas, 2. Of these 842 battles and skimishes, 
 107 were important battles, while many of the 
 others were slight collisions of no great conse- 
 quence. The two each reported in Ohio and 
 Indiana were due to John Morgan's raid. It 
 will easily be seen that Virginia was the battle- 
 field of the war. 
 
 [Total number of men called for in the Union 
 army was 2,942,788, and the total number furn- 
 ished was 2,690,401.1 
 
 The Jacket of Gray. 
 
 Mrs. C. A. Ball. 
 
 Fold it carefully, lay it aside, 
 
 Tenderly touch it; look on it with pride, 
 
 For dear must it be to our hearts evermore, 
 
 The Jacket of Gray our loved soldier boy wore. 
 
 Can we ever forget when he joined the brave band 
 Who rose in defense of our dear Southern land, 
 
Immortelles. 75 
 
 And in his bright youth hurried on to the fray, 
 How proudly he donned it — the Jacket of Gray? 
 His fond mother blest him and looked up above, 
 Commending to Heaven the child of her love; 
 What anguish was her's — mortal tongue cannot >ay, 
 When he passed from her sight in the Jacket of Gray. 
 
 But her country had called, and she would not repine, 
 Though costly the sacrifice placed on its shrine. 
 Her heart's dearest hopes on its altar she lay 
 When she sent out her boy in his Jacket of Gray. 
 
 Months passed, war's thunder rolled over the land, 
 
 Unsheathed was the sword and lighted the brand ; 
 
 We heard in the distance the sound of the fray 
 
 And prayed for our boy in the Jacket of Gray. 
 
 Ah! vain, all vain, were our prayers and our tears, 
 
 The glad shout of victory rang in our ears ; 
 
 But our treasured one on the red battlefield lay 
 
 While the life blood oozed out on the Jacket of Gray. 
 
 His comrades found him, and tenderly bore 
 
 The cold, lifeless form to his home by the shore; 
 
 Oh ! dark were our hearts on that terrible day 
 
 When we saw our dear boy in the Jacket of Gray. 
 
 Ah! spotted and tattered and stained now with gore 
 
 Was the garment which once he so proudly wore. 
 
 We bitterly wept as we took it away 
 
 And replaced with death's white robe the Jacket of Gray. 
 
 We laid him to rest in his cold narrow bed, 
 
 And graved on the marble we placed near his head, 
 
 As the proudest tribute our sad hearts could pay, 
 
 He never disgraced the Jacket Gray. 
 
 Then fold it up gently, lay it aside, 
 
 Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride; 
 
 For dear must it be to our hearts evermore 
 
 The Jacket of Gray our loved soldier boy wore. 
 
 Charleston, S. C 
 
76 Immortelles. 
 
 Colonel Shelby's Missouri Cavalry Brigade 
 in Arkansas. 
 
 Thursday, the 12th of March, 1863, was a gala 
 day for this brigade. The three regiments com- 
 posing it had been for some time drilling in 
 friendly competition and in obedience to Colonel 
 Shelby's orders, were assembled on a trial of 
 skill in all the intricate and difficult evolutions 
 in company and battalion. The day was de- 
 lightful — a sweet south wind had blown all the 
 night before from the land of roses, and early 
 spring had laid her young brow upon the roseate 
 sky, and curled her azure hair upon the budding- 
 trees and upon the waking earth with tread as 
 soft as angel footfalls on some velvet floor. By 
 10 o'clock the wide and level field selected for 
 the purpose began to be filled, and the regiments 
 came marching from the surrounding woods 
 and debouched upon the plain with the glory 
 and memory of Cane Hill, Prairie Grove, White 
 Springs, Hartville — eyes kindled with a battle 
 light, hearts throbbed high with hope, and many 
 an anxious gaze went far away northward, where 
 the oppressed were waiting for forms that came 
 not, for the gleaming of mingled banners that 
 never gladdened into full fruition. Soonest on 
 the field came the gallant First, with Frank 
 Gordon at its head, as when in the dread and 
 the gloom of that tangled copse at Hartville he 
 
Immortelles. 77 
 
 led them to the charge, his best and bravest 
 falling all around him. Then the fighting Third, 
 with Thompson in advance — always eool, cau- 
 tious, wary. The First presented arms, and 
 they halted in column for the final struggle. 
 Lastly came the charging Second, and with it 
 Jeans and Shanks — the former the grim old 
 fighter that even now scares the visions of Union 
 men in Missouri, the latter the same bold, dar- 
 ing, dashing, chivalrous dragoon, with 
 
 "Red hand in the foray, 
 Sage counsel in chamber." 
 
 The field was surrounded by a heavy rail fence, 
 with openings on one side for the various regi- 
 ments and spectators to pass through. All the 
 youth and the beauty and bloom of Batesville, 
 Ark., were present; gaily caparisoned steeds 
 danced in the sunlight; black eyes, blue eyes, 
 and hazel eyes shot glances hot enough and 
 wild enough to stir a fever in the blood of age ; 
 old men forgot their cares and came creeping 
 to the inner verge of the square and looked 
 with joyful faces; old ladies came to see and en- 
 joy, clapped their hands and almost exclaimed: 
 "I would I were a girl again." It required but 
 a little stretch of the imagination to call up the 
 knightly days of yore, when plumes were rent 
 and crests were shorn, and women crowned the 
 manly sport with wreaths of flowers and smiles. 
 
78 Immortelles, 
 
 The bugles rang out their merry peals, the reg- 
 iments sprang from listlessness to attention, 
 and at the northern gateway a bright and beau- 
 tiful cavalcade came gleaming through. Not a 
 cloud was in the sky. Nature's old heart was 
 rich in sympathy, and the air sweet with the 
 blush of the coming spring. 
 
 Would it be just to particularize the ladies? 
 Why not! Let it go forth now to the South 
 that wherever blows fall thick and fast, wherever 
 Greek meets Greek, there will Joe Shelby's 
 Missouri cavalry brigade proclaim the Batesville 
 girls the fairest of the fair, and 
 
 "Their empire shall last 
 'Till the red flag by inches is torn from the mast." 
 
 There was Miss N. W., the beautiful, the dar- 
 ing, the dashing, the fascinating U D\ Vernon," 
 with a world of meaning in her wild, black 
 eyes, and a glance like the sunlight that flashes 
 on steel. 
 
 There was Miss E. W., young and beautiful, 
 with step as free as the wild gazelle. There was 
 Miss E. B., polished as an icicle, but warm and 
 admiring as young love's first dream, and many, 
 many others that watched the drill of the brave 
 soldiers, who were exiles from home; and they 
 spoke kind words of cheer and hope, and thrilled 
 with old memories — the men swore deeper vows, 
 
Immortelles. 79 
 
 lighted sterner fires than ever yet to defend the 
 ladies of Arkansas. 
 
 The champion companies were "A" and "C 
 of the First, "A" of the Twenty-first, and "A" 
 and "K" of the Third. 
 
 The drilling now began in earnest. The com- 
 panies were admirably disciplined and walked 
 and moved in position as veterans. Finally, the 
 contest narrowed down to "A" of the First and 
 "K 77 of the Third. The prize was three days 7 
 furlough, and both companies felt their honor 
 at stake, and struggled manfully, not so much 
 for the prize as the credit. The judges were 
 Colonel J. T. Cearnel, the same that led almost 
 a forlorn hope at Elk Horn and was badly 
 wounded; Captain W. M. Price, and General 
 Marmaduke's adjutant, Captain G. Gr. Williams. 
 The two companies^ drilled and drilled and the 
 ladies admired until it was decided to dismiss 
 them for the day, and render the verdict next 
 morning. 
 
 Company " A," of the First Regiment, is 
 that company of Missourians which was de- 
 tained at De Vails' Bluff last summer; and, 
 ladies of Little Rock, it is the same company 
 that won your beautiful flag sent to Glen. Mar- 
 maduke to be given to the bravest company 
 in the next engagement. 
 
 When the company drills were over. Col. 
 
80 Immortelles. 
 
 Shelby gave command for a grand brigade 
 movement — squares were formed, movements 
 en echelon, in column, in every way laid down in 
 Hardee, were executed with great rapidity and 
 skill. The spectators were delighted. Never 
 was a command in brighter spirits — more eager 
 for the fray. 
 
 The pageant closed at sundown with three 
 grand dress parades, and the large crowd dis- 
 persed expressing great satisfaction at the re- 
 sult. The judges' decision was that of a tie be- 
 tween companies "A" and "R." so both obtained 
 the furlough. And whatever of skill and pro- 
 ficiency company "A" has attained, it is almost 
 due to Col. Kelly, of Gen. Parson's command. 
 In Mississippi's sultry swamps he drilled ns — 
 that noble old Roman with eyes of fire, and 
 words of deep bnt generous energy. God bless 
 him! Many a brave heart thinks of him often, 
 and many prayers go np that he may receive a 
 command, proportionate to his fine intellect and 
 military abilities. 
 
 When the warfare is over ; when peace strikes 
 records with her history; when our glorious 
 cause shall rise beautiful from its urn of death — 
 then let our past be written ; then let the song 
 go forth : 
 
Immortelles. 81 
 
 'Ah! soldiers to your honored rest, 
 
 Your youth and valor bearing ; 
 The bravest are the tenderest, 
 
 The loving are the daring." 
 
 — First Regiment. 
 
 [How beautiful the affection of a soldier for 
 his comrade in arms, and his devotion to a 
 brave commander.] 
 
 S. R. 
 
 By Telegraph. 
 From the True Democrat. 
 
 (Published by R. S. Yerkes & Co., Little Rock, Ark.) 
 
 Headquarters Department Trans-Missis- 
 
 } 
 
 sippi, Alexandria, La., March 7, 1863. 
 
 GENERAL ORDER NO. 1. 
 
 1. In conformity with instructions from the 
 War Department, at Richmond, Va., dated Feb- 
 ruary 9, 1863, the undersigned hereby assumes 
 command of the Confederate forces west ol the 
 Mississippi. 
 
 2. UntiLfurther orders the Department head- 
 quarters are established at Alexandria, La. 
 
 E. Kirby Smith, 
 Lieutenant General Commanding. 
 J. F. Belton, 
 
 A. A. General, 
 i.— 6 
 
82 Immortelles, 
 
 Port Hudson, March 20. 
 
 Since the first fight here the Yankees are oc- 
 casionally shelling the place, but without any 
 effect. Off sloop of war Mississippi we took 
 thirty-two fine guns. They have been safely 
 landed by our forces. Provisions are arriving 
 daily. 
 
 The report of Confederate success near Wood- 
 stock, Va., is confirmed. The Federal loss in 
 killed and wounded is considerable. We have 
 captured 250 prisoners. 
 
 Mobile, March 24. 
 The Tribune has reliable information from 
 Pensacola, stating that the city had been evacu- 
 ated by order of Banks, for the purpose of 
 reinforcing the Mississippi river expedition. 
 The abolitionists burned thirty or forty houses 
 before leaving. They took all the negroes to 
 
 New Orleans. 
 
 Chattanooga, March 24. 
 
 There has been no movement of the army in 
 Tennessee. On Friday the enemy advanced on 
 the roads from Franklin towards Columbia, but 
 on Saturday they returned to Franklin. Van 
 Dorn is still on the north side of Duck river. 
 Our forces occupy Florence and Tuscumbia, and 
 there is no movement from Corinth in this direc- 
 tion. Morgan had a fight in Cannon county. 
 Tennessee, with an overwhelming force of the 
 
Immortelles. 83 
 
 enemy. He fought gallantly and killed and 
 wounded a number of the foe, but was forced to 
 retire before superior numbers. 
 
 Mobile, March 23. 
 
 Official intelligence has been received of the 
 evacuation of Pensacola by the enemy. They 
 now occupy the navy yard and Forts Barrancas 
 and Pickens. The garrison of the town and all 
 others that could be spared have been sent to 
 
 Gen. Banks. 
 
 Cairo, March 25. 
 
 Later news from Vicksburg confirms the ar- 
 rival of the gunboats Hartford and Albatross of 
 Farragut's fleet at the north of the canal on the 
 20th. An officer from on board had arrived at 
 Grant's headquarters bringing dispatches from 
 Banks. Seven of Farragut's boats run the 
 blockade at Port Hudson, but, after coming up 
 some distance, all but two returned. 
 
 Headquarters District of Western La., ) 
 Near Berwick's Bay, March 28, 1863. J 
 
 General S. Cooper, Adjutant ana Inspector Gen- 
 eral, Richmond, Vet. : 
 
 I have the honor to report the capture of the 
 Federal gunboat Diana at the Point today. She 
 mounts five heavy suns. Boat not serionsiv in- 
 
84 Immortelles 
 
 jured, and will be immediately put into service. 
 Enemy's loss, in killed, wounded and prisoners, 
 150. Your obedient servant, 
 
 [Signed.] R. Taylor, 
 
 Major General Commanding. 
 
 Monkoe, April 13. 
 News from east of Mississippi : Banks fallen 
 back with one division of his army at Baton 
 Rouge; the rest of his forces have gone down 
 the river. Great consternation in Kentucky in 
 consequence of the advance of the Confeder- 
 ates in Lexington. Richardson's guerrillas 
 fought a regiment of the enemy at Somerville, 
 killing and wounding eighty. The New Orleans 
 Era of the 22d ult. gives particulars of the 
 capture of the Federal gunboat Diana on the 
 Atchafalaya, by Sibley's command. Diana was 
 commanded by Captain Peterson, and had on 
 board Company A, 22d Connecticut, and Com- 
 pany F, 16th New York Regiment — in all, 120 
 officers, privates and sailors, all of whom fell 
 into our hands, together with the boat, one 
 32-pounder rifle, parrot, two smooth-bore. 
 
 Cabell's Brigade Camp at Ozark, Ark., \ 
 
 March 27, 1863. f 
 
 At a meeting of the commissioned officers of 
 
 this brigade, on the 27th day of March, 1863, 
 
 the following proceedings were had, viz: 
 
Immortelles. 85 
 
 On motion of Colonel Scott, commanding post 
 at Ozark, Ark., Lieutenant Colonel Lee L. 
 Thomson, of Carroll's Regiment of Arkansas 
 Cavalry, was called to the chair, and Lieutenant 
 Andrew T. Quindley, of Carroll's Regiment , was 
 made secretary. 
 
 The object of the meeting being explained by 
 the chairman to be an expression of their sorrow 
 at the death of their fellow officer, Major Hall 
 S. McConnell. On motion of Captain Gordon, 
 of Carroll's Regiment, the chairman appointed 
 the following committee to draft suitable resolu- 
 tions: Captains Gordon, Jefferson and Lien- 
 tenant Sadler, of Carroll's Regiment, and Cap- 
 tains Basham and Paine, of the Partisan 
 Rangers. 
 
 In due time the committee reported the fol- 
 lowing resolutions: 
 
 On the 22d day of March, 1863, Major Hall 
 S. McConnell, being on a scout in the vicinity 
 of White River, in Washington County, Ar- 
 kansas, learned the whereabouts of a Federal 
 scouting party, and immediately pursued and 
 overtook them, and, whilst gallantly charging 
 them at the head of his command, was shot 
 dead; therefore, be it 
 
 Resolved. While it is a fact that brave men 
 are liable to fall in battle, it is equally true that 
 we all sooner or later may realize the same fate. 
 It is to be expected that many a gallant son of 
 the South will be offered as willing sacrifices in 
 
86 Immortelles. 
 
 their country's cause. To those who know him 
 well, the loss of Major McConnell is felt to be 
 something more than the sad casualties of the 
 war. 
 
 Resolved, That, being* deeply impressed with 
 the solemnity of this truth, the officers of Brig- 
 adier-Greneral Cabell's command have been 
 called together in consequence of the common 
 bereavement, 
 
 Resolved, That the Confederate army has lost 
 a gallant officer and patriot, and his survivors a 
 generous, warm-hearted friend, companion and 
 brother. 
 
 Resolved, That we feel his mother's, brothers' 
 and sisters' loss has been greater than ours. He 
 ••who suffereth not a sparrow to fall except for 
 some wise and beneficient cause" will -'temper 
 the wind to the shorn lamb," and afford consol- 
 ation in this hour of bereavement. 
 
 Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be 
 furnished to Mrs. Susan McConnell and family, 
 at Clarksville, Ark., as a testimonial of our 
 kind sympathies with them in their loss, which 
 we claim to be a common loss — as well to us and 
 the country as to them. Of our high appreci- 
 ation of the son and brother as an officer and 
 companion in arms, and to assure them that 
 while he will be missed in the home circle, his 
 loss has caused a sad vacuum among his mess- 
 mates and friends in the army. 
 
 Resolved, That we hereby bear testimony to 
 the great moral worth of our brother soldier, 
 Hall S. McConnell. Whether as an officer, a 
 private or a citizen, he was well qualified to 
 adorn any position which he would consent to 
 occupy. 
 
Immortelles. 87 
 
 Resolved, That the True Democrat, and other 
 Arkansas papers, be requested to publish the 
 foregoing'. 
 
 The resolutions were unanimously adopted, 
 
 and the meeting adjourned. 
 
 Liect.-Col. Thomson. Chairman. 
 
 Andrew I. Quindley, Secretary. 
 
 Lines on the Death of Majoe H. S. McConnell. 
 
 In thy young manhood thou art slain, 
 
 Shot! dead! it must be so; 
 Yet I've tried to think it all a dream, 
 
 The dreadful news, the night of woe. 
 
 But all in vain, it is no dream, 
 
 Alas! alas! 'tis true 
 We've looked oui last on the lov'd face, 
 
 Have bid a last adieu. 
 
 At day and night we miss you so, 
 
 Our bright and gifted one; 
 Yes, as we miss when night comes on 
 
 The radiance of the sun. 
 
 Among the first to volunteer, 
 
 Prompt to his country's call 
 Was our true and gallant patriot, 
 
 Our brave and noble " Hall." 
 
 On Oak Hill's bloody field he fought, 
 
 And in many a fearful fray 
 He lead his comrades, nor faltered 
 
 However bore the day. 
 
 Ask those who fought beside him, 
 How did our hero fall. 
 "Bravely as he had lived he died, 
 They answer one and all. 
 
88 Immortelles. 
 
 a Go on; go on," were his last words, 
 He could not bid them come, 
 And thus he died for freedom 
 And those he loved, his home. 
 
 Rest brave soldier, God is good, 
 And thou art free from pain, 
 
 Our souls shall rest in the sweet thought 
 That we shall meet again. 
 
 — Sallie R. 
 
 Camp near Litte Rock, ] 
 April 7, 1863. j 
 
 Editor True Democrat — I suggest we should 
 adopt a new character by which to designate 
 our currency. The old dollar-mark now in use 
 is peculiar alone to the currency of our enemy. 
 It was originally the characters U. S. written 
 one across the other, from which the present 
 character has been abreviated or corrupted. I 
 nominate the letters C. S., written one across 
 the other, from which to characterize the cur- 
 rency of the Confederate States. It is much 
 more elegant than the old one, and is national 
 
 in significance. 
 
 Very respectfully, 
 
 * W. Hicks. 
 
 Mrs. Jones, wife of the representative from Hot 
 Spring County, has spun the chain and filling, 
 and woven 771 yards of cloth within the past 
 thirteen months, and since August, 1861, has 
 woven 1,400 yards. 
 
Immortelles. 89 
 
 The Letter From Home. 
 
 How sweet 'mid the din and confusion of camps, 
 The duty, the drill, and the cavalier's tramp, 
 To know that some loved one does fervently pray 
 For the poor soldier lad, tho' he's far, far away, 
 And yearns for the time when war's stern decree 
 Will yield back the treasure blithe, happy and free. 
 Such scenes in the distance oft cheers the lone heart, 
 But a letter from home makes all sorrow depart. 
 
 The loved thing may be from your father or mother, 
 From dear sister Jane, or from Ike, your young brother, 
 And it tells you how loved ones are looking with joy 
 To a time when they'll meet with their brave soldier boy; 
 And speaks of " Ma's " kindness in hoarding away 
 Some nice things for you on that bright happy day; 
 And " Pa " hopes the time very quickly may come — 
 Thus you're cheered and consoled by a letter from home. 
 
 And mayhap the missive the post-boy does bring 
 
 Is from her of whom the poets and lovers will sing; 
 
 The girl who in leaving you fondly caressed, 
 
 Your arm round her waist, and her head on your breast; 
 
 And neath Heaven's canopy plighted forever 
 
 In bonds of sweet love no tyrant can sever; 
 
 Whose fair words you cherish wherever you roam, 
 
 And they are doubly enhanced by a letter from home. 
 
 God bless our loved ones wherever they be 
 May our country still rank the glorious and free, 
 Our prayers be for blessings on loved ones afar 
 Who're toiling for freedom 'mid hardships of war; 
 And never neglect writing many a letter 
 To the brave soldier lad for it makes him feel better; 
 For in all his misfortunes though distant he roam, 
 He's cheered when he gets the fond letter from home. 
 
 — L. H. M. 
 Huntsville, Ala,, April 10, 1863. 
 
90 Immortelles. 
 
 A Gem. 
 Among the numerous poetic effusions inspired 
 by the war, we have not met anything more 
 sweet and touching than the following lines: 
 
 The maid who binds her warrior's sash, 
 
 And, smiling, all her pain dissembles, 
 The while, beneath her drooping lash, 
 
 One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles. 
 Though heaven alone records the tear, 
 
 And fame shall never know her story, 
 Her heart has shed a drop as dear 
 
 As ever dewed the field of glory. 
 
 The wife who girds her husband's sword, 
 
 'Mid little ones, who weep and wonder, 
 And bravely speaks the cheering word, 
 
 What, though her heart be rent asunder; 
 Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear 
 
 The bolts of war around him rattle- 
 Has shed as sacred blood as e'er 
 
 Was poured upon the plains of battle. 
 
 The mother who conceals her grief, 
 
 While to her breast her son she presses, 
 Then breathes a few brave words and brief, 
 
 Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, 
 With no one but her secret God 
 
 To know the pain that weighs upon her, 
 Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod 
 
 Received on freedom's field of honor. 
 
Immortelles. 91 
 
 Tfnnessee. 
 [Written for The Avalanche.] 
 
 Farewell, oh Union! — once beloved 
 
 So tenderly by me ; 
 Thy banner's folds shall never more 
 
 Wave over Tennessee. 
 I go to join my sister States, 
 
 The gallant band of braves, 
 Whose starry flag shall soar above 
 
 A free land or our graves. 
 
 Sisters, I come with heart and hand ! 
 
 Hearts that have ne'er known fear; 
 Hearts that are strong to aid the cause 
 
 To every breast so dear, 
 With earnest will to do and dare. 
 
 The Southland shall be free ! 
 With eager step we hasten on — 
 
 Make room for Tennessee. 
 
 Oh, Union! long I've clung to thee, 
 
 And for thy sake have borne 
 From the sweet South, so dear to me, 
 
 Words of reproach and scorn; 
 But now I cast thy flag away — 
 
 Yes, cast it with disdain — 
 Dishonored by a bigot's rule, 
 
 And abolition's stain. 
 
 If envy could find place with me, 
 
 I'd envy South Carolina; 
 But, nay ! with patriot love 
 
 My great heart doth enshrine her; 
 And thou shalt find, my sister States, 
 
 When we our foes are meeting, 
 That Tennessean guns and blades 
 
 Will give them bloody greeting. 
 
92 Immortelles. 
 
 Our Southland rises in her might, 
 
 Her eagle spirit blazing! 
 Her hosts, with prayers upon their lips, 
 
 The battle-cry yet raising: 
 Sons of the South, to Arms! to Arms! 
 
 Proudly our banner waves. 
 Oh, never let its proud folds droop, 
 
 But o'er thy bloody graves! 
 
 — Lena Lyle. 
 
 Maryland. 
 
 The despot's heel is on thy shore, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 His touch is at thy temple door, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 Avenge the patriotic gore 
 That necked the streets of Baltimore, 
 And be the battle queen of yore, 
 Maryland ! My Maryland ! 
 
 Hark to a wandering son's appeal. 
 Maryland ! 
 
 My mother State, to thee I kneel, 
 Maryland ! 
 
 For life and death, for woe and weal, 
 
 Thy peerless chivalry reveal 
 
 And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel- 
 Maryland! My Maryland! 
 
 Thou wilt not cower in the dust, 
 
 Maryland! 
 Thy beaming sword shall never rust, 
 
 Maryland! 
 Remember Carroll's sacred trust, 
 
Immortelles. 93 
 
 Remember Howard's warlike thrust, 
 And all thy slumberers with the just, 
 Maryland! My Maryland! 
 
 Come, 'tis the red dawn of the day, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 Come, with thy panoplied array, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 With Ringold's spirit for the fray, 
 With Watson's blood at Monterey, 
 With fearless Lowe and dashing May- 
 Maryland ! My Maryland ! 
 
 Come while thy shield is bright and strong, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 Come from thy daliance over the wrong, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 Come to thine own heroic throng, 
 That stalks with liberty along, 
 And give a new key to the song- 
 Maryland! My Maryland! 
 
 Dear mother, burst thy tyrant chain, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 Virginia should not call in vain, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 She meets her sisters on the plain— 
 "Sic semper"— 'tis the sweet refrain 
 That baffles minions back amain. 
 Arise in majesty again, 
 
 Maryland! My Maryland! 
 
 I see the blush upon thy cheek, 
 
 Maryland! 
 For thou wert ever bravely meek, 
 
 Maryland! 
 But hark! there surges forth a shriek 
 From hill to hill, from creek to creek, 
 
94 Immortelles. 
 
 Potomac calls to Chesapeake, 
 Maryland ! My Maryland ! 
 
 Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll, 
 
 Maryland ! 
 Thou wilt not crook to his control, 
 
 Maryland! 
 Better the fire upon thee roll, 
 
 Better the blade, the shot, the bowl 
 Than crucifixion of the soul, 
 Maryland! My Maryland! 
 
 Humor of the March. 
 
 In the spring of 1863, at Cockran's Cross- 
 Roads, in North Mississippi, we engaged in a 
 lively skirmish with Grierson's Federal cavalry. 
 At first they gave way before us in a very satis- 
 factory manner, but being reinforced, they sent 
 our boys back on the reserve after the latest im- 
 proved double quick style. A read-headed cor- 
 poral named Tom Murphy dashed by me, and as 
 he halted, exclaimed, '* Well, Captain, we made 
 one of 'em holler ! 7 > " What did he say, Tom ? ' > 
 the Captain inquired. Tom looked up. squinted 
 his gray eyes, and replied, " He said, 'Forward, 
 skirmishers ! ' " 
 
Immortelles. 95 
 
 Fake well to Johnson's Island. 
 
 Hoarse sounding billows of the white -capped lake 
 
 That 'gainst the barriers of our hated prison break. 
 
 Farewell! farewell! thy giant inland sea; 
 
 Thou, too, subservest the modes of tyranny — 
 
 Girding this isle, washing its lonely shore 
 
 With moaning echoes of thy melancholy roar. 
 
 Farewell thou lake! farewell thou inhospitable land! 
 
 Thou hast the curses of this patriot band — 
 
 All, save the spot, the holy sacred bed, 
 
 Where rest in peace our Southern warriors dead. 
 
 [Penciled by an unknown hand upon the 
 prison wall of Johnson Island building.] 
 
 On the peninsula the gallant and jolly G-eneral 
 J. Bankhead Magruder had ordered a meal for 
 himself and staff. A hungry Reb., and who 
 ever saw one that was not hungry, came up to 
 the farm house, espied the nicely filled table, 
 and without leave or license, sat down and 
 began to annihilate things. Just then the Gren- 
 eral and friends walked in, escorted by the host. 
 All were surprised. " Hallo! said the fiery 
 Magruder, in terms more explicit than polite; 
 do you know whose table that is you are eating 
 at ? " ' 'No, sir ; ' ' said John Reb. with his month 
 full ; ' < Who is it ? ' ' "General Magruder's, sir ; ' ' 
 
96 Immortelles. 
 
 the commander of this department." "X\\ right, 
 General, ' ' with another big mouthful, ' ' these was 
 times I ain't particular where I eat, or who I 
 eat with ; sit down and make yourself at home." 
 The foraging private was unceremoniously 
 fired out. but not before he had nearly gotten 
 outside of a pretty square meal. 
 
 Maxassas, 
 
 [First battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861.] 
 By Catherine M. Warfield. 
 
 They have have met at last — as storm clouds 
 
 Meet in Heaven; 
 And their thunders have been stilled, 
 And their leaders crushed or killed, 
 And their ranks were terror-thrilled, 
 
 Rent and riven. 
 
 Like the leaves of Vallombrosa 
 
 They are lying 
 In the moonlight — in the nidnight, 
 
 Dead and dying. 
 Like those leaves before the gale 
 Swept their legions wild and pale, 
 While the host that made them quail 
 
 Stood defying. 
 
Immortelles. 97 
 
 When aloft in morning sunlight 
 
 Flags were flaunted, 
 And swift vengeance on the Rebel 
 
 Proudly vaunted, 
 Little did they think that night 
 Should close upon their shameful flight, 
 And Rebels victors in the flight 
 
 Stand undaunted. 
 
 But peace to those who perished 
 
 In our passes; 
 Light be the earth above them, 
 
 Green the grasses! 
 Long shall Northmen rue the day 
 When they met our stern array, 
 And shrunk from battle's wild affray 
 
 At Manassas ! 
 
 A Confederate Wedding. 
 
 Come, boys! we've had enough of camp 
 
 And famous battle ground, 
 So when we trim the waning lamp 
 
 And pass the wine around, 
 I'll tell a tale of soldier life 
 
 More fit for peaceful time, 
 Of how I won the sweetest wife 
 
 Within the Southern chime. 
 ****** 
 I rode one beautiful morn in spring 
 
 Along 'mid the lonely pines, 
 And saw not a trace of living thing, 
 
 Nor of homestead roof the signs, 
 'Till a turn revealed a cottage neat 
 
 I. — t 
 
98 Immortelles. 
 
 Where the spinning wheel was heard, 
 And a maiden song with voice so sweet 
 That it shamed the mocking bird. 
 
 Then gazing long to myself I said — 
 
 By those bonnie eyes of blue. 
 This heart- fair maiden shall remain unwed 
 
 Or find its mate in you. 
 Thus, resolved, I returned next day 
 
 With my chosen comrades three; 
 Then asked a drink, and was pressed to stay 
 
 With a welcome kind and free. 
 
 We lingered long, and I came again — 
 
 A soldier must quickly woo, 
 So ere recalled to the battle plain 
 
 Of my love the household knew; 
 Then the mother sighed, and father said: 
 
 " My daughter can this be true?" 
 That you with a stranger youth must wed 
 
 Unknown scarce a month ago. 
 
 Her blue ej^es shone with a tear unshed 
 
 Like a violet wet with dew, 
 But she turned to me and softly said : 
 
 " I'm yours — I go with you." 
 So finding her mind was firmly set 
 
 They bade me in peace abide ; 
 But first from the town a license get 
 
 And priest from the country's side. 
 
 The preacher he was tall and green 
 
 As ever did circuit ride — 
 Had many a rustic wedding seen, 
 
 But never a couple tied; 
 Still he did his priestly part right well 
 
 With but two or three mistakes, 
 Perhaps he was aided by the smell 
 
 Of hot pies and corn-meal cakes. 
 
Immortelles. 99 
 
 The bride was fairest among the fair, 
 
 Yet not for her bridal array ; 
 She wore but a white rose in her hair, 
 
 And her dress was homespun gray. 
 When our simple feast at last was o'er 
 
 Instead of a merry dance, 
 Our boys must show how themselves they bore 
 
 In making the first advance. 
 
 The Colonel was so gallant and true 
 
 As he was a soldier brave, 
 And when of my wedding bliss he knew 
 
 Soon a leave of absence gave; 
 But many long miles we had to roam, 
 
 Took many a weary ride, 
 But safe to my distant city home 
 
 I carried my woodland bride. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Now, boys, my story is told at last, 
 
 The lamp again burns dim, 
 But let the wine once more be past 
 
 And fill up to the brim — 
 And may this toast an echo find 
 
 From every heart and mouth, 
 And here's a health to womankind 
 
 And to our own dear South. 
 
 Pineland, June 8, 1870. 
 
100 Immortelles. 
 
 GtOOber Peas. 
 By A. Pender. 
 [One of the most widely known Confederate 
 songs. The melody, suited a soldier in his 
 gayest mood, he rolled out: "Peas! peas! 
 peas! " with a gusto that was charming.] 
 
 Sitting by the roadside on a summer day, 
 Chatting with my messmates, passing time away; 
 Lying in the shadow underneath the trees, 
 Goodness! how delicious, eating goober peas! 
 
 Chorus — Peas! peas! peas! peas! eating goober peas! 
 Goodness! how delicious, eating goober peas. 
 
 When a horseman passes the soldiers have a rule 
 To cry out at their loudest: "Mister, here's your mule." 
 But another pleasure enchantinger than these 
 Is wearing out your grinders eating goober peas. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
 Just before the battle the general hears a row. 
 He says: "The Yanks are coming. I hear the rifles now." 
 He turns around in wonder, and what do you think he sees? 
 The Georgia militia eating goober peas. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 I think my song has lasted almost long enough. 
 
 The subject is interesting, but the rhymes are mighty 
 
 tough. 
 I wish this war was over, when, free from rags and fleas, 
 We'd kiss our wives and sweethearts and gobble goober 
 
 peas! 
 
 Chorus — 
 
Immortelles. 101 
 
 Capture of Harper's Ferry. 
 Crossing with the army into Maryland, A. P. 
 Hill performed a most important part in the 
 capture of Harper's Ferry. Hill's forced march 
 from Harper's Ferry to Sharpsbnrg and his rush 
 into the battle at the critical juncture, changing 
 the whole face of affairs and converting threat- 
 ened disaster into splendid victory, are among 
 the most brilliant achievements of the war. 
 December 13 he contributed his share to win- 
 ning a victory near "Hamilton's Crossing." 
 With Jackson on his march to Chancellorsville, 
 and flank march to Hooker's rear, he was mov- 
 ing his division into line of battle to take the 
 advance, when Jackson was shot down by his 
 own men, and, after giving his chief needed per- 
 sonal attention, Hill hurried to assume com- 
 mand and finish the brilliant movement which 
 Jackson had so auspiciously begun, but he was 
 soon after wounded himself and compelled to 
 relinquish the command and leave to u Jeb" 
 Stuart, the clashing, glorious "Jeb" Stuart, 
 who was sent for and put in command, the 
 glory of carrying line after line of the 
 enemy's breastworks, as he gave the old corps 
 the watchword, "Charge, and remember Jack- 
 son," and rode at the head of the charging 
 columns, singing in clear notes heard above the 
 din of battle : 
 
102 Immortelles. 
 
 Old Joe Hooker, won't you come out of the wilderness? 
 Hill was soon after promoted, made lieutenant 
 general, and put in command of the Third corps. 
 His health failed, and he was advised to take a 
 rest at the house of a relative in Chesterfield 
 County, but he had left strict injunctions with 
 his staff to be notified of any movement of the 
 enemy, and on April 2, in making a brave 
 attempt to take personal command of a part of 
 his corps, which had been cut off, he was shot 
 down and instantly killed by a squad of the 
 enemy whose surrender he had demanded. His 
 body was recovered by a charge of the members 
 of his staff. No general orders announced his 
 death, no honor attended his burial, for the 
 grand old army had taken up its sad march to 
 Appomattox Court House. But he lived in the 
 hearts of his old corps of loving comrades; he 
 will live in life-speaking bronze that loving- 
 hearts have reared. 
 
 The Boy Soldier. 
 By a Lady of Savannah, Ga. 
 
 He is acting o'er the battle, 
 With his cap and feather gay ; 
 
 Singing out his soldier prattle 
 In a mockish manly way; 
 
Immortelles. 1& 
 
 With the boldest, bravest foot- step 
 
 Treading firmly up and down, 
 And his banner waving softly 
 
 O'er his boyish locks of brown. 
 And I sit beside him sewing, 
 
 With a busy heart and hand, 
 For the gallant soldier going 
 To the far-off battle -land. 
 And I gaze upon my jewel. 
 In his baby- spirit bold— 
 My little, blue -eyed soldier, 
 Just a second summer old. 
 I would speed him to the battle, 
 I would arm him for the fight, 
 I would give him for his country— 
 
 For his country's wrong and right. 
 I would nerve his hand with blessings 
 
 From the God of Battles won. 
 With his helmet and his armor, 
 
 I would cover o'er my son. 
 Oh! I know there'd be a struggle, 
 
 For I love my darling boy. 
 He's the gladness of my spirit; 
 He's the sunlight of my joy. 
 Yet, in thinking of my country, 
 
 Oh, my spirit groweth bold, 
 And I wish my blue -eyed soldier 
 Were but twenty summers old. 
 
104 Immortelles. 
 
 Pen sac ola. 
 
 By M. Louise Rogers. 
 
 O, night wind! gently, softly blow 
 Over the loved ones lying so low 
 
 On a soldier's hard rongh pillow, 
 Where camp-fires on the plains are traced, 
 And the shore is clasped in rude embrace 
 
 By the deep Gulf's rolling billow. 
 
 O, night wind! come with your purest breath, 
 And kiss them asleep, but not in death — 
 
 Kiss them softly and sweetly. 
 Let no poison lurk in your tender caress; 
 Let no Upas kill our heart's own best, 
 
 But kiss them purely and gently. 
 
 O, night wind! they are dreaming of friends and home, 
 Then, lightly rest when to them you come. 
 
 Dispell not the love -lit vision 
 With a rude caress ; but let them sleep on, 
 While we kiss them in dreams one by one, 
 
 And commit them to God and Heaven. 
 
 O, do you not know gentle night wind, 
 Our hearts have gone and entered in 
 
 Those camps by the sea-girt strand? 
 More than half our lives — do you not know? — 
 Has flown to the clime where orange buds blow 
 
 Throughout the star-bright land. 
 
 My brother! my brother! O, sweet night wind! 
 No love-lit eyes to meet him, so kind, 
 
 On Pensacola's plains. 
 No lips to kiss thy weary brow; 
 No voice to speak tender and low : 
 
 No hand to charm away thy pain. 
 
 No father to kneel with him in prayer ; 
 No mother to watch with tender care ; 
 
Immortelles. 105 
 
 No sister when morning awakes. 
 Alone! alone! But, O, night wind! 
 Tell him we'll be so hopeful and kind, 
 
 And smile for his sweet sake. 
 
 Let Death wave not his gloomy wing 
 Over the darling hopes we sing. 
 
 Tell him to flee from the track 
 Where the feet of our loved ones press the sod, 
 Or march to the tramp of the stern War God. 
 
 Tell him to let them come back. 
 
 And, oh! night wind! will you not bear 
 Up to the Throne our tears and prayers, 
 
 That God will guide and shield 
 The dear loved ones our country has claimed 
 To bear her hopes and fair, proud name 
 
 On the cruel battlefield? 
 
 Oh! weeping heart! be still again! 
 On Pensacola's sun-burnt plain, 
 
 The God we worship is there — 
 His arm is there as strong to save 
 From death, the foeman and the grave, 
 
 As here, where we Mieel in prayer. 
 
 Land of King Cotton. 
 By Joe Augustine Signaigo. 
 
 (Air, "Red, White and Blue.") 
 
 Oh, Dixie, the land of King Cotton, 
 The home of the brave and the free; 
 
 A nation of freedom begotten, 
 The terror of despots to be. 
 
 Wherever thy banner is streaming 
 Base tyranny quails at thy feet, 
 
106 Immortelles. 
 
 And liberty's sunlight is beaming 
 In splendor of majesty sweet. 
 
 Chorus — Three cheers for our army so true, 
 Three cheers for Price, Johnson 
 
 and Lee. 
 Beauregard and our Davis forever! 
 The pride of the brave and the free. 
 
 When liberty sounds her war rattle, 
 
 Demanding her rights and her due, 
 The first land that rallies to battle 
 
 Is Dixie, the shrine of the true. 
 Thick as leaves of the forest in summer, 
 
 Her brave sons will rise on each plain, 
 And then strike until each vandal comer 
 
 Lies dead in the soil he would stain. 
 
 Chorus — 
 
 May the names of the dead that we cherish 
 
 Fill memory's cup to the brim; 
 May the laurels they've won never perish, 
 
 Nor "star of their glory grow dim." 
 May the States of the South never sever, 
 
 But champions of freedom e'er be. 
 May they flourish Confederate forever, 
 
 The boast of the brave and the free. 
 
 Chorus— 
 
 GrENEKAL A. P. HlLL. 
 
 By D. J. William Jones. 
 Dr. Jones quotes from President Davis in call- 
 ing him the "gallant and glorious little Powell 
 Hill. " A. P. Hill was one of the most thoroughly 
 
Immortelles. 107 
 
 accomplished soldiers whom the war produced. 
 He was appointed colonel of the Thirteenth 
 Virginia regiment at Harper's Ferry in the early 
 spring of 1861. In the early days of 1862 G-en- 
 eral Hill received his well-deserved promotion, 
 and, with his commission, a brigadier general, 
 was put in command of the famous old brigade 
 which Longstreet had commanded. I never 
 shall forget the thrilling scene in Jackson's corps 
 as A. P. Hill's guns opened at- Mechanicsville 
 that memorable afternoon" of the 26th of June. 
 1862, and the "foot cavalry" made the hills and 
 valleys ring with their Confederate yells as they 
 eagerly pressed forward in anticipation of vic- 
 tory. Hill moved forward in fine style and 
 drove the enemy from their position at Mechan- 
 icsville, thus opening a way for Longstreet and 
 D. H. Hill, whose divisions were thrown across 
 the Chicahominy at that point. In the early, 
 morning of the 27th of June the Confederate 
 troops on the north side were in motion, and the 
 Federal forces, under gallant Fitz John Porter, 
 awaited them in a position naturally strong, but 
 which had been fortified with all the appliances 
 of engineering skill and ample material. En- 
 countering the enemy in his strong position and 
 heavy entrenchments near Cold Harbor about 2 
 o'clock p. m., Hill bore the brunt of the fight 
 for about two hours, until Jackson got into po- 
 
108 immortelles. 
 
 sition and Longstreet went to his assistance, and 
 then bore his full share in the grand charge 
 which swept the field along the whole line of 
 Cold Harbor and Gains' Mill, capturing four- 
 teen pieces of artillery and many prisoners and 
 driving the enemy in great confusion from every 
 position. I inay not give in detail the further 
 movements of those seven days of carnage and 
 Confederate victory which raised the siege of 
 Richmond and drove McClellan's splendid 
 army to the cover of his gunboats at Harrison's 
 Landing. He especially distinguished himself 
 and covered with glory his "Light Division" in 
 the battle of Frazier's Farm. It was during 
 this movement President Davis was reeonnoiter- 
 ing in front when he met General Lee on the 
 same business and remonstrated with him, 
 saying: "This is no place for the commander 
 of the army." The general rejoined: "It 
 seems to me this is no place for the commander- 
 in-chief of all our armies." Just then "gallant 
 little A. P. Hill" galloped up and exclaimed: 
 "This is no place for either of you, and as com- 
 mander of this part of the field I order you both 
 to the lear." They moved a little to the rear 
 and became absorbed in a consultation, when 
 Hill galloped up and exclaimed: "Did I not 
 order you away from here, and did you not 
 promise to obey me? Why. one shot from that 
 
Immortelles. 109 
 
 battery over there might deprive the army of 
 Northern Virginia of its commander and the 
 Confederacy of its President." Afterward he 
 was assigned to Jackson's corps and sent to join 
 him near Gordo nville. He was an active partici- 
 pant in the battle of Cedar Run, where Jackson 
 defeated his old "Quartermaster General Banks." 
 I saw him in the crisis, with coat off and sabre 
 drawn, throwing out skirmishers to stop strag- 
 glers, tearing off the bars of a lieutenant who 
 was skulking to the rear, and giving his clear, 
 crisp orders as he hurried his veterans into the 
 fight and hurled back the blue lines who were 
 advancing, flushed with victory — he seemed to 
 me the very personification of the genius of 
 battle, the very beau ideal of the soldier. At 
 second Manassas, during the crisis of the strug- 
 gle for the famous railroad cut, Hill sent a staff 
 officer to inquire of brave old Maxey G-regg how 
 he was getting on. "Tell him," said the old 
 hero, "that our ammunition is exhausted, but 
 rocks are very plentiiul, and we will hold our 
 position with them until we can get ammuni- 
 tion." Sending his staff and couriers to fill 
 their haversacks and pockets with cartridges 
 and distribute them to the men, Hill himself 
 galloped to the line and excited the wildest en- 
 thusiasm as his clarion voice rang out: "Good 
 for vou, boys! Give them the rocks and the 
 
110 Immortelles. 
 
 bayonet, and hold your position. I will soon 
 have ammunition and reinforcements for you." 
 
 The Gallant Chakge of Cheatham's Division 
 
 at Franklin, Tenn. 
 
 By Col. Robert Gates. 
 The battle of Franklin was fought November 
 30, 1864. The Federals, under General Scho- 
 field, occupied a strong natural position, which 
 they made stronger by first-class earthworks. 
 Tho approaches were through open fields, from 
 a rile to a mile and a half in width. In front of 
 ti position assaulted by Cheatham's old division . 
 groves of locust trees had been cut down, behind 
 which the first line of Federals received the 
 assault. General Cheatham was commanding 
 the corps and General John C. Brown the old 
 division. The division moved to the assault 
 with the left on the Columbia pike. Moving 
 parallel, with its right on the Franklin pike, was 
 Cleburne's division. There had long been a 
 generous rivalry between those two commands. 
 Owing to its splendid achievements at Ringgold. 
 Cleburne's division "held the edge" on the 
 famous Tennesseeans. Hence again at Frank- 
 lin, as on the 22d of July, before Atlanta, these 
 
Immortelles. Ill 
 
 two divisions raced for first honors. In splendid 
 style, their officers gallantly urging them on, the 
 crack divisions of the western army moved 
 through shot and shell to the desperate work 
 before them. It was a splendid sight. The 
 entire field was in full view, over which the 
 eighteen brigades of Hood's army moved to the 
 assault. From the rifle pits and the locust 
 zeralas in front of the main works of the 
 Federal infantry, poured a terrific fire, while 
 from the main works and the heights beyond 
 the river more than a hundred cannon volleyed 
 and thundered on the advancing host. 
 
 THE CHARGE OVER THE PLAIN. 
 
 But there was no halting or wavering, .d 
 over the fire-swept plain the column advanced, 
 closing up the dreadful gaps of death like the 
 "Old Guard" at Waterloo. With a yell and a 
 rush at the point of the bayonet, the first line of 
 works was carried. On and on, with guns at 
 right-shoulder-shift, dashed the heroic lines. 
 Yet a half mile of open ground remains to be 
 crossed, The firing from the main works was 
 now terrific. Not a soldier of that gallant army 
 had ever experienced a fire so dreadful. The 
 hundred cannon, double-shotted, swept the 
 plain, and the roll of 20,000 muskets was inct i- 
 sant and appalling. But on swept the Confed- 
 
112 Immortelles. 
 
 erates, never firing a gun, never cheered by the 
 boom of a cannon of their own, never wavering-. 
 eyes to the front, "victory or death" ringing in 
 every heart, officers and men fell like dead 
 Leaves when forests are shaken. The glorious 
 Cleburne fell, and the dashing Grranbury, of 
 Cheatham's old division, Strahl, Carter and 
 Gist fell, and Brown and Gordon were wounded; 
 and yet on swept the glorious line of gray. At 
 last the plain behind them, strewn with the dead 
 and wounded, outnumbering the living, the 
 assaulting column reeled against the strong 
 works behind which the Federal army fought in 
 comparative security, and, with the nerve and 
 cool destructiveness that became veterans. The 
 works reached, a ditch must be crossed and an 
 embankment climbed. The Federal fire became 
 now more terrific, all their reserves being 
 brought into action. Then it was that on the 
 right and left the Confederates recoiled and 
 reeled back against the fatal plain to the rifle 
 pits and locust zerales just taken. Of all that 
 assaulting column, Cheatham's old division alone 
 held its ground. This division, with every 
 general and field officer, except Colonel Hurt, 
 who commanded the Sixth and Ninth, with half 
 its number strewn on the plains, scrambled 
 across the ditch and climbed upon the works, 
 driving the Federals out and taking possession. 
 
Immortelles. 113 
 
 Having repulsed the Confederates at all other 
 
 points, the Federals rallied, and charged Cheat- 
 ham's devoted division, confident of annihilat- 
 ing or capturing it. The division, quickly noting" 
 their peril, placed the embankment of works just 
 taken between them and the Federals, and held 
 their perilous position with matchless heroism 
 and unequaled valor to the end. Assailed in the 
 front, subject to a terrific cross-fire from angles 
 in the works to the right and to the left, the old 
 division stood firm, and poured a destructive fire 
 into their assailants in front. Alone they stood 
 amid ten thousand — volleyed and thundered at 
 from three sides — stood and died and conquered. 
 The Federals gained the opposite side of the 
 earthworks, but could not cross or dislodge their 
 enemy. They glared into each other's eyes and 
 fought with clubbed guns, but like gladiators, 
 toe to toe, fought and died, but never turned 
 back or wavered. It was a sublime moment. 
 The old division was standing on the sacred soil 
 of its grand, old mother, Tennessee. It was mak- 
 ing a last heroic effort for home and cause. The 
 eyes of mother, wife and sweetheart, in hearing, 
 as it were, of the battle's thunder, watched and, 
 waiting, wept. Its comrades, after prodigies of 
 valor, had reeled back from the impossible. It 
 stood alone of all the assaulting host, using the 
 enemy's works against himself — alone, in the 
 i.— 8 
 
114 Immortelles. 
 
 fiery-red jaws of a hell of battle. The Spartans 
 at Thermopylae, the Light Brigade at Balaklava. 
 the Old Gruards at Waterloo, do not overmatch 
 it in sit nation or equal it in results. It stood 
 therein the jaws of death — stood and conquered. 
 The night was hideous with the red glare of 
 battle. The dead and wounded encumbered their 
 movements; exhaustion threatened: and. yet. 
 they stood and conquered. It was the old 
 division's last supreme effort while hope yet re- 
 mained — its last confident struggle for cause and 
 home, and it stood like the Old Ironsides at 
 Nasby — stood and sublimely conquered. Early 
 after the darkness set in, the Confederates rallied 
 and renewed the assault on the right and left. 
 The enemy gave way, and Franklin was taken. 
 But when the Confederates poured in there, 
 amidst the dying, their visages blackened with 
 smoke beyond recognition, stood Cheatham's 
 division, masters of the works they had taken at 
 the first — master of the field — the unquestioned 
 heroes of the battle, the matchless division of 
 the Western Army. There it stood, amid 
 the wrecks of battle; amid its dead, that 
 outnumbered the living; without a general 
 officer left; with but one field officer able for 
 duty; the division commanded by colonels, 
 regiments by captains and lieutenants, and 
 companies by sergeants and corporals. The 
 
Immortelles. 115 
 
 charge of Cheatham's division stands out as one 
 of the grand acts of cool courage and super!) 
 daring in the martial history of the world, and 
 in future years it will be pointed out by histori- 
 ans as one of the grandest of all great military 
 achievements in war. 
 
 Among the gallant soldiers of Cheatham's 
 division still living, none were braver or are more 
 worthy of mention than Dr. Sam Wilkerson, of 
 Morrilton, Ark. While in the front of the battle 
 he was wounded — lost a leg in his country's 
 cause — still lives, and glories to-day in the grand 
 achievements of Cheatham's band. 
 
 The Battle at Feanklln. 
 
 A school girl of 1864 writes: "I was a pupil 
 in the old Franklin Female Institute. While 
 we were trying to concentrate our minds on our 
 books, one ear was always open to the sounds of 
 fife and rattle of drums, the clatter of horses' 
 hoofs and the electrifying notes of the bugle. 
 We were always allowed to run to the front 
 gate to see the soldiers pass. If they were ''our 
 
116 Immortelles. 
 
 boys" we waived bonnets, and handerchiefs if 
 they were Yankees, and we watched Buell's 
 army of thousands pass, we looked and felt dis- 
 mayed. 
 
 "On an ever memorable day, the 30th of No- 
 vember, we assembled at school as usual. Our 
 teachers' faces looked unusually serious that 
 morning. The Federal couriers were dashing 
 hither and thither. The officers were gathering 
 in squads, and the cavalry, with swords and 
 sabres clanking, were driving their spurs into 
 their horses' flanks and galloping out to first one 
 picket post and then another, on the roads lead- 
 ing south and southwest of town. The bell called 
 us in the chapel. We were to take our books 
 and go home, as there was every indication that 
 we would be in the midst of a battle that day. 
 
 At 4 o'clock that afternoon I stood in our 
 front door and heard musketry in the neighbor- 
 hood of Colonel Carter's, on the Columbia pike. 
 To this day I can recall the feeling of sickening 
 dread that came over me. As the evening wore 
 on the firing became more frequent, and nearer 
 and louder; then the cannon began to roar from 
 the fort. My father, realizing that we were in 
 range of guns from both armies, told us to run 
 down into the cellar. We hastily threw a change 
 of clothing into a bundle and obeyed at once. 
 My mother, who never knew what fear meant 
 
Immortelles. 117 
 
 in her life, was a little reluctant to go and leave 
 .the upper part of. the house to the tender mer- 
 cies of soldiers, but she finally joined us in the 
 basement. A few minutes later there was a 
 crash, and down came a deluge of dust and 
 gravel. The usually placid face of our old 
 black mammy, now thoroughly frightened, ap- 
 peared on the scene. She said a cannon ball 
 had torn a hole in the side of the meat house 
 and broken her wash kettle to pieces. She left 
 the supper on the stove and fled precipitately 
 into the cellar. After that the only way we 
 could get anything to eat was by sending a guard, 
 who was in the yard, to the kitchen after it. 
 The patter of the bullets on the blinds was any- 
 thing but soothing. The incessant booming of 
 cannon and the rattle of the guns continued 
 until midnight; then the firing gradually 
 ceased. We, of course, were in ignorance of 
 who was in possession of the place, but 
 all the while hoping and praying that it 
 might be our boys. About one o'clock 
 we thought the town was being reduced to 
 ashes, but it turned out to be the Odd Fellows 
 Hall on the square. About four o'clock we 
 heard the tramping of feet and the sound of 
 voices. Our hearts jumped into our mouths, 
 and what joy when we learned that our own 
 ♦soldiers were in possession of the town! We 
 
118 Immortelles. 
 
 first learned it from the men who carried Col. 
 Sam Shannon, who had been wounded, to his 
 sister's house— our next door neighbor. Onr 
 men were in pessession of the town. We did 
 not stand on ceremony getting out of that 
 cellar. Our doors were thrown wide open, and 
 in a few moments a big fire was burning in the 
 parlor. 
 
 The first man to enter was Gen. Wm. Bate, 
 all bespattered with mud and blackened with 
 powder, but a grand and glorious soldier under 
 it all. I will not attempt to picture the meeting 
 between him and my father who had been life 
 long friends. Next came Gen. Tom Benton 
 Smith with the impersonation of a chivalric, 
 gallant soldier, wearing under the mud and dirt 
 his recent hard earned honors. Poor fellow, 
 how short-lived were his joys! A cruel sabre 
 cut at Nashville forever dethroned his reason. 
 Space fails me to mention the list who came 
 that day and received a warm welcome. I shall 
 mention a reproof my sisters received from some 
 of their soldier sweethearts. An uncle of ours, 
 who made his home in New York city, had my 
 sisters visit him, and of course, they replenished 
 their wardrobes while there. On the morning 
 after the battle they wanted to compliment their 
 soldier friends by "looking their best," so they 
 put on their prettiest dresses. The soldiers 
 
Immortelles, 119 
 
 were so unaccustomed to seeing stylish new 
 dresses, that they doubted their loyalty, thought 
 they should have on homespun dresses instead 
 of "store clothes," In the afternoon, Decem- 
 ber 1st, some of us went to the battle-field to 
 give water and wine to the wounded. All of us 
 carried cups from which to refresh the thirsty. 
 Horrors! What sights that met our girlish 
 eyes! The dead and wounded lined the Colum- 
 bia pike for the distance of a mile. In Mrs. 
 Sykes' yard Glen. Hood sat talking with some 
 of his staff officers. I didn't look upon him as 
 a hero, because nothing had been accomplished 
 that could benefit us. As we approached Col. 
 Carter's house, we could scarcely walk without 
 stepping on dead or dying men. We could 
 hear the cries of the wounded, of which Col. 
 Carter's house was full to overflowing. As I 
 entered the front door I heard a poor fellow 
 giving his sympathetic comrades a dying mes- 
 sage for his loved ones at home. We went 
 through the hall and were shown into a little 
 room where a soft light revealed all that was 
 mortal of the gifted young genius, Theo. Carter, 
 who, under the pseudonym of "Mint Julep," 
 wrote such delightful letters to the Chattanooga 
 Rebel. Bending over him, begging for just one 
 word of recognition, was his faithful and heart- 
 broken sister. The night before the battle he 
 
120 Immortelles. 
 
 had taken supper at Mr. Green Neely's (the 
 father of our postmaster), and was in perfect 
 eestaey of joy at the thought of seeing his fam- 
 ily on the morrow, from whom be had been 
 saparated so long. But alas! when the mor- 
 row came, that active, brilliant brain had been 
 pierced by one of the enemy's bullets: he was 
 carried home and ministered to by those faith- 
 ful sisters, and died, I think, without ever 
 having spoken a word. From this sad scene 
 we passed on to a locust thicket, and men in 
 every conceivable position conld be seen, some 
 with their fingers on the triggers and death 
 struck them so suddenly they did not move. 
 Past the thicket we saw trenches dug to receive 
 as many as ten bodies. On the left of the pike, 
 around the old gin house, men and norses were 
 lying so thick we could not walk. Gren. Adams' 
 horse was lying stark and stiff upon the breast- 
 works. Ambulances were being filled with the 
 wounded as fast as possible, and the whole town 
 was turned into an hospital. Our house was as 
 full as could be; from morning until night we 
 made bandages and scraped linen lint with 
 which to dress their wounds, besides making jel- 
 lies and soups with which to nourish them. 
 The times were not without their romances. 
 Only a short time afterward a handsome young 
 Missouri surgeon in charge of one of the hos- 
 
Immortelles. 121 
 
 pitals married one of our most prominent young- 
 ladies. Another who was wounded here mar- 
 ried also. 
 
 Humor of the March. 
 
 When a company of home guards on the Mis- 
 sissippi river had fired upon a gun boat the boat 
 acknowledged by opening on them with shell. 
 The guards immediately got down close to the 
 ground, and one of them said, u Boys, if I ain't 
 flat enough won't one of you please get on me 
 and mash me flatter ? ' ' 
 
 The Dying Soldier. 
 
 By Sallie Ada Reedy. 
 
 My noble Commander, thank God you have come ; 
 You know the dear ones who are waiting at home, 
 And oh, it was dreadful to die here alone, 
 No hand on my brow, my comrades all gone. 
 
 I thought I would die many hours ago, 
 
 And those who are waiting me never could know 
 
 That here with the faith of its happier years, 
 
 My soul has not wandered one moment from theirs. 
 
 The dead are around but my soul was away 
 'Mid the roses that blossom 'round my cottage to-day; 
 I thought that I sat where the jassamines twine 
 And gathered the delicate buds from the vine. 
 
122 Immortelles. 
 
 And there like a bird that has folded its wings, 
 At home 'mid the smile of all beautiful things, 
 With sweet words of welcome and kisses of love, 
 Was one I will miss in yon heaven above. 
 
 By the light that I saw on her radiant brow 
 She watches and waits there, and prays for me now — 
 My Captain bend low for this poor wounded side 
 Is draining my heart of its last crimson tide. 
 
 Some day when you leave this dark place and go free, 
 You']l meet a fair girl; she will question of me; 
 She has kissed this bright curl as it lay on my head, 
 When it goes back alone she will know I am dead ; 
 And tell her the soul, which on earth was her own, 
 Is waiting and weeping in heaven alone. 
 
 My mother, God help her, her grief will be wild 
 
 When she hears the mad .Hessians have murdered her 
 
 child ; 
 But tell her ('twill be one sweet chime in my knell) 
 That the flag of my country now waves where I fell. 
 
 It is well — it is well thus to die in my youth, 
 
 A martyr to freedom and justice and truth ; 
 
 Farewell to earth's hopes, precious dreams of my heart, 
 
 My life's going out but my love shall not depart, 
 
 And now, on the wings my soul has unfurled, 
 
 Going up, soft and sweet, to yon beantiful world. 
 
 How beautiful in death, 
 
 The warrior' corse appears, 
 Embalmed by fond affection's breath 
 
 And bath'd in woman's tears. 
 
 — Montgomery. 
 
 There were sad hearts in a darkened home, 
 
 When the brave had left their bower, 
 
 But the strength of prayer and sacrifice 
 
 Was with them in that hour. 
 
 —Mrs. Hemans. 
 
Immortelles. 123 
 
 An Address to the Confederate Soldiers 
 of the Southwest. 
 
 By S. H. Ford, LL.D. 
 
 Grenada, Miss., October, 186*2. 
 
 Today, if you hear His voice, harden not your heart. — 
 Paul. 
 
 Soldiers and Brothers— One who lias passed 
 with you through many a sad and many a glo- 
 rious scene ; who has sat with you around your 
 camp fires when the freezing wind swept by; 
 has slept in your tents when the straw froze 
 to the ground; has joined in your foot-sore 
 marches; stood near you in the day of battle; 
 visited you in the hospitals; followed your com- 
 rades to the grave, and communicated the last 
 death whispers of love to far-off friends — one 
 who, though never connected with the service, 
 has never ceased since this war began to labor 
 and to pray for you — addreses these pages to 
 you, desirous thereby to direct your minds to 
 the lessons to be gathered from the fields where 
 you have nobly battled and suffered. 
 
 History is G-od's voice, speaking to us from 
 the past, of peoples and empires, of battles and 
 sieges, victories and defeats. But if that voice, 
 pealing down through the silent centuries, has 
 power to awaken, to inspire and to teach, what 
 should be its influence when it speaks direct 
 from scenes and events which we have witnessed, 
 
124 Immortelles. 
 
 and where we ourselves have been actors? Your 
 deeds, your endurances, has rendered many an 
 obscure spot immortal. Bowling Green and 
 Columbus are now historic ground. The fields 
 of Elkhorn, Belmont and Shiloh will live in 
 story and in song. Yicksburg and Baton 
 Rouge, Lexington, Mo., and Richmond, Ky., 
 have been made sacred by your valor. You 
 have wrought out a history of the Southwest fit 
 to live beside that written in glorious deeds by 
 your brothers of the Southeast. We had neither 
 arms nor munitions of war, and our ports were 
 sealed, yet we have armed a vast army which 
 has won victory on a hundred fields. The poor, 
 unenterprising, enervated South, without pro- 
 visions or manufactories — without clothing or 
 medicines — a proud foe, with all the facilities 
 to equip an overwhelming army. God has 
 brought strength out of weakness; under His 
 blessing we have made our enemies respect our 
 power. Our disasters were enough to shake the 
 stoutest hearts. When, after hopeful accounts 
 from the siege of Fort Donelson, the news at 
 last came that it had fallen; that 12,000 heroes 
 who had driven triple their number day after 
 day before them, at length overcome by fatigue, 
 hunger and cold, had to surrender; that, as a 
 consequence, Nashville, with all its stores, and 
 all Middle Tennessee, were abandoned to the 
 
Immortelles. 125 
 
 foe. How dark the day seemed! Like the 
 rush of Alpine torrents came the tidings, freez- 
 ing our very blood and overwhelming us with 
 sorrow. Still, onward rolled the dark, rushing 
 tide of invasion. In the last Norfolk was aban- 
 doned and Williamsburg and Yorktown were 
 evacuated. Richmond was besieged and Now 
 Orleans taken. Fort Pillow was abandoned 
 and Memphis and Helena were occupied by the 
 foe. But these stunning blows struck from the 
 hearts of the people a fire which swept through 
 the South wrapping it in the flames of patriot- 
 ism. When Donelson fell there were not more 
 than 240,000 men in all our armies, and enlist- 
 ments had almost ceased. There was not am- 
 munition enough in the whole Confederacy to 
 continue the battle all around the lines three 
 days. But the fall of Donelson was as the voice 
 of Grod, waking new energies and calling every 
 man into action. Our armies soon swelled to 
 double their numbers. Arms sufficient, through 
 the same watchful Providence, were obtained. 
 Our disasters proved to be blessings in disguise. 
 But if from the bitterness of disaster sweets 
 have been extracted, what language shall record 
 the gracious providences of Grod in the aston- 
 ishing victories with which He has crowned our 
 arms? Seventy-five thousand and then forty 
 thousand additional men were called out in the 
 
126 Immortelles, 
 
 commencement of the war to crush and subju- 
 agtethe starving, "the unarmed South." Under 
 the supervision of the greatest General of the 
 age, "Winfield Scott," the grand army moved 
 "on to Richmond," 50,000 men. The mighty 
 host was met at Manassas by an inferior force. 
 The Southern Republic trembled for the fate of 
 that eventful day and of their comparitively small 
 army. The battle raged — at times it seemed to 
 quiver in the balance. But the result! Bro- 
 ken, scattered, flying, routed, defeated — "the 
 grand army." 
 
 From Bethel and Vienna, from Bull Run and 
 Ball's Bluff, from the battle scenes of Virginia 
 of '61 and '62 God's voice speaks in thrilling 
 eloquence. 
 
 Nor can we forget the glorious feats in Mis- 
 souri — Springfield, Lexington, Oak Hills, Elk- 
 horn, nor the brilliant achievements at Shiloh. 
 From the clouds that lowered through a weary 
 winter and spring, again streamed the smile of 
 God ; and like bust of splendor from the open- 
 ing heaven came the victories of the glorious 
 summer. 
 
 And what shall be said of the scenes on the 
 Rapidan and the Rappahannock, of Mannas- 
 sas, of Harper's Ferry and Hagerstown Heights. 
 The curtain is now trembling on the wheel of 
 
Immortelles. 127 
 
 time, when it is lifted a glorious peace may have 
 been conquered. 
 
 Can any man look at all these victories — over 
 armies the best appointed the world ever beheld. 
 by barefooted half clad suffering Southerners 
 and not gratefully acknowledge that Jehovah 
 has been with us? 
 
 One of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War 
 was fought at Chickamauga, Gra., September 
 19-20, 1863, between Rosecrans (Federal), who 
 commanded 55,000 men, and Bragg (Confed- 
 erate), whose army numbered 70,00. The Fed- 
 erals were defeated, losing 16,000 men. The 
 Confederates lost 18,000. Bragg was slowly re- 
 treating, and expecting reinforcements before 
 he should decide to give battle to Rosecrans, 
 who was marching on to Chattanooga. These 
 reinforcements coming suddenly, Bragg halted 
 at Chickamauga and deployed for battle. Rose- 
 crans placed his force with Thomas on the left, 
 Crittenden in the center and McCook on the 
 right, along Chickamauga creek. 
 
 The Confederates crossed the creek Septem- 
 ber 19, and Thomas' line was struck by Polk. 
 Thomas confused Bragg' s plan by speedily re- 
 turning the assault. Thomas was again attacked 
 September 20, and although he often called for 
 reinforcements he held his position well. Fi- 
 
128 Immortelles. 
 
 nally Gen. Wood, through misinterpreting an 
 order, made a false move, which precipitated 
 the Confederates upon a weak point in the 
 Federal line and the day was lost. 
 
 Rosecrans fled to Chattanooga. Thomas kept 
 fighting until Garfield was sent to call him off. 
 It was here that Thomas acquired the sobriquet 
 of "The Eock of Chickamauga." Mr. Maurice 
 Thompson, who was born in Indiana, was edu- 
 cated on his father's estate in Georgia, and 
 after the war settled at Crawfordsville, Indiana, 
 contributes to The Century the following ballad 
 on the battle. Mr. Thompson fought on the 
 Confederate side. 
 
 The Ballad of Chickamauga. 
 
 By Chickamauga' s crooked stream the martial trumpets 
 
 blew, 
 The North and South stood face to face with War's dread 
 
 work to do ; 
 O, lion strong, unselfish, brave, twin athletes battle-wise, 
 Brothers, yet enemies, the fire of conflict in their eyes. 
 All banner -led and bugle -stirred, they set them to the 
 
 fight, 
 Hearing the god of slaughter laugh from mountain height 
 
 to height. 
 
 The ruddy, fair-haired, giant North, breathed loud and 
 
 strove amain, 
 The swarthy soldiers of the South did heave them to the 
 
 strain ; 
 An earthquake shuddered under foot, a cloud rolled over 
 
 head, 
 
Immortelles, 129 
 
 And serpent tongues of flames cut through and lapped 
 
 and twinkled red, 
 Where back and forth a bullet stream went singing like a 
 
 breeze, 
 What time the snarling cannon balls to splinters tore the 
 
 trees. 
 
 "Make way, make way," a voice boomed out, "I'm 
 marching to the sea," 
 
 The answer was a Rebel yell and Bragg's artillery. 
 
 Where Negley struck, the cohorts gray like storm-tossed 
 clouds were rent, 
 
 Where Buckner charged a cyclone fell, the blue to tatters 
 went ; 
 
 The noble Brannan cheered his men, Pat Cleburne an- 
 swered back, 
 
 And Little stormed, and life was naught in Walthall's 
 bloody track. 
 
 Old Taylor, s Ridge rocked to its base, and Pigeon Moun- 
 tain shook, 
 
 And Helm went down, and Little died and broken was 
 McCook. 
 
 Van Cleve moved like a hurricane, a tempest blew with 
 Hood, 
 
 Awful the sweep of Breckinridge across the flaming 
 wood. 
 
 Never before did battle -roar such chords of thunder 
 make, 
 
 Never again shall tides of men over such barriers break. 
 
 " Stand fast, stand fast," cried Rosecrans, and Thomas 
 
 said, " I will," 
 And crash on crash his batteries dashed their broadsides 
 
 down the hill. 
 Brave Longstreet's splendid rush tore through whatever 
 
 barred its track, 
 
 i.— 9 
 
130 Immortelles. 
 
 'Till the Rock of Chickamauga hurled the roaring columns 
 
 back, 
 And gave the tide of victory the red tinge of defeat, 
 Adding a noble dignity to that hard word, retreat. 
 
 Two days they fought, and ever more those days shall 
 
 stand apart, 
 Keynotes of epic chivalry within the Nation's heart. 
 Come, come, and set the carven rocks to mark this glorious 
 
 spot, 
 Here let the deeds of heroes live, their hatreds to forget. 
 Build, build, but never monument of stone shall last as 
 
 long 
 As one old soldier's ballad borne on breath of battle song. 
 
 GeNEEAL GEANT AND JEFFEESON DAVIS SECOND 
 
 Cousins. 
 
 It will be news to many persons, even to such 
 as are pretty well read in the genealogies of 
 great men, to hear that TJ. S. Grant and Jeffer- 
 son Davis were relatives having a common 
 ancestor in the third generation back, in William 
 Simpson, of Bucks county, Pa., who was grand- 
 father to both General Grant's mother and 
 Jefferson Davis 7 father. 
 
 The "Life of John Davis," we are told is the 
 logbook by which every real Pennsylvania 
 Davis swears. 
 
 John Davis married Ann Simpson, the 
 
Immortelles. 131 
 
 daughter of William Simpson on [June 26, 
 1783. William Simpson was a soldier of the 
 revolution. Settled in Bucks county, Pa.. 
 (Buckingham). He made application to pur- 
 chase one hundred acres of land January 15, 
 1766, and the deed was executed by John Penn, 
 May 23, 1767. He married Nancy Hines of 
 New Britian, was the father of two sons and two 
 daughters, John and Mat hew, Ann and Marie. 
 Mat hew removed to near Zanesville, Ohio, in 
 1810 ; John lived and died in the country. Ann 
 married John Davis. William Simpson died in 
 1816, aged eighty-four. G-eneral Grant's mother 
 descended from the Bucks county Simpsons. 
 
 Through John Davis, it appears William 
 Simpson was great-grandfather to Jefferson 
 Davis as well as Ulysses Simpson Grant thus 
 making these men direct second cousins. There 
 are more than five hundred descendants in the 
 United States at the present time, who are about 
 equally related to both G-eneral Grant and Jef- 
 ferson Davis. 
 
 News Item Apeil 15, 1863. 
 
 The situation— On the 19th and 20th of March 
 snow fell depth of ten inches at Richmond. It 
 is settled opinion at Richmond that Hooker will 
 advance when the roads admit of it. 
 
132 Immortelles. 
 
 My Southern Home. 
 
 To my far away home where the laurel tree blooms, 
 
 My heart ever turns with a sigh; 
 'Tis the land of my birth where my ancestors' tombs 
 
 Point up to the clear Southern sky. 
 'Tis the land of the rose, of the myrtle and vine, 
 
 Its carpet fhe moss covered sod; 
 'Tis the land which with pride I may ever call mine, 
 
 A land richly blessed by our God. 
 
 'Tis the land of the sun where the feathery hosts 
 
 Sing sweet in their Creator's praise, 
 'Tis the land from whose glens rise the tangible ghosts, 
 
 The memories left of past days. 
 'Tis the home of the pure and the land of the brave, 
 
 The faithful the true and the just, 
 'Tis the land on whose breast I would make me my grave 
 
 To rest my inanimate dust. 
 
 'Tis the land of the hero, the theme of the bard, 
 
 'Tho true that her flag has furled; 
 Yet the deeds of her sons and her face battle scarred 
 
 Have challenged the praise of the world. 
 'Tis the land which hath reared in the temple of fame, 
 
 The loftiest pile that we see, 
 And her sons ever thrill at the sound of that name, 
 
 Immortal, invincible Lee. 
 
 There a father doth rest where the soft breezes play, 
 
 The willows droop over his tomb ; 
 There a mother still grieves for a son far away, 
 
 'Mid winter and withering gloom. 
 Take me back, let me fly to to the land of my birth, 
 
 To rest— never more will I roam ; 
 Let me hold ever more to the dearest on earth, 
 
 My mother, my country, my home. 
 
 A. S. Morton. 
 
 St. Paul, Minn., January 20, 1895. 
 
Immortelles. 133 
 
 The Flag of the Florida Battery. 
 
 Col. W. T. Stockton of the Florida Brigade 
 wrote a poem about this flag. It was used by 
 the Marion Light Artillery in the Battle of 
 Bichmond, Kentucky. It was made of a crim- 
 son shawl presented by Mrs. J. J. Dickison. 
 The rings attached to the lance made of jewelry 
 contributed by ladies of Marion county, Fla., 
 the ferrule, a silver comb worn by Mrs. Dickison 
 on her bridal da v. 
 
 Joe Johnston 
 
 Fill the breach for the land of the West ! 
 Thus we give of our bravest and best, 
 
 Of his state and his army the pride- 
 Hope shines like the plume of Navarre on his crest 
 
 And gleams in the glaive at his side. 
 
 For his courage is keen and his honor is bright 
 As the trusty Toledo* he wears to the fight, 
 
 Newly wrought in the forges of Spain, 
 And his weapon, like all he has brandished for right, 
 
 Will never be dimmed by a stain. 
 
 He leaves the loved soil of Virginia behind, 
 Where the dust of his father is fitly enshrined, 
 
 Where lies the fresh fields of his fame ; 
 Where the murmuring pines, as they swayed in the 
 wind, 
 
 Seem ever to whisper his name. 
 
134 Immortelles. 
 
 The Johnstons have always borne wings on their spurs 
 And their motto a noble distinction confers — 
 
 " Ever ready " for friend or for foe— 
 With a patriot's fervor the sentiment stirs 
 
 The large, manly heart of our Joe. 
 
 We read that a former bold chief of the clan 
 Fell, bravely defending the West in the van 
 
 On Shiloh's illustrious day, 
 And with'reason we reckon our Johnston the man 
 
 The dark, bloody debt to repay. 
 
 There is work to be done; if not glory to seek, 
 There's a just and a terrible vengence to wreak 
 
 For crime of a terrible dye, 
 While the plaint of the helpless, the wail of the weak, 
 
 In chorus rise up to the sky. 
 
 Brave -born Tennesseeans, so loyal, so true, 
 
 Who have hunted the beasts in your highlands — of you 
 
 Our leader had never a doubt; 
 You will troop by the thousands the chase to renew 
 
 The day that his bugles ring out. 
 
 Then once more to the breach for the land of the West, 
 Strike home for your hearths, for the lips you love best — 
 
 Follow on where your leader you see; 
 One flash of his .sword, when the foe is hard pressed, 
 
 And the land of the West shall be free ! 
 
 —John R. Thompson. 
 Richmond, Va., December 1, 1862. 
 
 *Gen. Johnston carries a beautiful blade, recently pre- 
 sented to him, bearing the mark of the Royal Manufactory 
 of Toledo, 1862. 
 
Immortelles. 135 
 
 Burial of the Dead. 
 By Col. Theo. O'Hara, of Kentucky. 
 
 The muffled drum's sad roll has beat 
 
 The soldier's last tattoo; 
 No more on life's parade shall meet 
 
 The brave and daring few. 
 On fame's eternal camping ground 
 
 Their silent tents are spread, 
 And Glory guards and solemn 'round 
 
 The bivouac of the dead. 
 
 No answer to the foe's advance 
 
 Now swells upon the wind; 
 No troubled thought at midnight haunts 
 
 Of loved ones left behind; 
 No vision of the morrow's strife 
 
 The warrior's dream alarms — 
 No braying horn nor screaming fife 
 
 At dawn shall call to arms. 
 
 Their shivered swords are red with rust, 
 
 Their plumed heads are bowed; 
 Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, 
 
 Is now their martial shroud. 
 And plenteous funeral tears have washed 
 
 The red stains from each brow, 
 And their proud forms, in battle gashed, 
 
 Are freed from anguish now. 
 
 The neighing steed, the flashing blade, 
 
 The trumpet's stirring blast; 
 The charge, the dreadful cannonade, 
 
 The din and shout are past; 
 No war's wild note, nor glory's peal, 
 
 Shall, with fierce delight, 
 Those breasts that nevermore shall feel 
 
 The rapture of the fight. 
 
136 Immortelles. 
 
 Like the dread Northern hurricane 
 
 That sweeps his broad plateau, 
 Flushed with the triumph yet to gainy 
 
 Came down the serried foe, 
 Our heroes felt the shock and leapt 
 
 To meet them on the plain ; 
 And long the pitying sky hath wept 
 
 Above our gallant slain. 
 
 Sons of our consecrated ground, 
 
 Ye must not slumber there, 
 Where strangers' steps and tongues resound 
 
 Along the heedless air; 
 Your own proud land's heroic soil, 
 
 Shall be your fitter grave — 
 She claims from war his richest spoil, 
 
 The ashes of her brave. 
 
 So 'neath their parent turf they rest, 
 
 Far from the gory field; 
 Borne to a Spartan mother's breast 
 
 On many a bloody shield. 
 The sunshine of a native sky smiles sadly on them 
 here, 
 
 And kindred hearts and eyes watch by 
 The hero's sepulcher. 
 
 Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead! 
 
 Dear as the bloody brave ; 
 No impious footstep here shall tread 
 
 The herbage of your grave ; 
 Nor shall your glory be forgot 
 
 While fame her record keeps. 
 On honor points the hallowed spot 
 
 Where valor proudly sleeps. 
 
 Yon marble minstrel's voiceless tone, 
 In deathless songs shall tell, 
 
Immortelles. 13' 
 
 When many a vanquished age hath flown. 
 
 The story how he fell; 
 Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, 
 Nor time's remorseless doom, 
 
 Shall dim one rav of holv light 
 
 A Battle Call to Kentucky — 1861. 
 Mary Walker Meriwether. 
 
 Arouse thee, Kentucky! the graves of thy sires 
 
 Are pressed by the foot of the foe ! 
 Has terror or aavrice smothered the fires 
 
 That were wont in thy bosom to glow? 
 
 Arise ! shall the voice of Virginia in vain 
 
 Call aloud to the child of her pride? 
 Thou shouldst rush like a storm over mountain and 
 plain 
 
 To conquor or die at her side. 
 
 Alas! shall the rifles thy forefathers bore 
 Hang, rusted and cold, in their place? 
 
 Has the spirit that kindled their bosoms of yore 
 Forever deserted their race? 
 
 Awake, there is scorn in the beautiful eyes 
 Of thy maidens and mothers and wives. 
 
 'Have we given," they ask, with indignant surprise, 
 To cowards our loves and our lives?" 
 
138 Immortelles. 
 
 Awake and redeem us ! Arise in your might, 
 Or forfeit to manhood the claim. 
 
 The arm that refuses to strike for the right, 
 Let it wither and perish in shame. 
 
 And he who would hasten to cringe and to crawl 
 
 At the feet of the ruthless invader 
 
 A spirit so base it were flattery to call 
 
 A craven, a serf, or a traitor! 
 
 Westekn Dixie. 
 By Mrs. Virginia Smith. 
 
 Come along, boys, we'll go off to the wars. 
 Never mind the times, we'll all march cheerily. 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie ! 
 We'll talk about the girls round theb right camp fire. 
 Heave a little sigh and then sing merrily 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie 
 
 Chorus— We're bound to fight for Dixie. 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! 
 Then shout hurrah for Dixie, boys ! 
 We'll conquer now or never. 
 
 The Cairo boys talk mighty fine 
 
 About where they'd sup and where they'd dine, 
 
 Yoho! yoho! yoho! in Dixie. 
 And they swelled like toads as the snake draws nigh, 
 And talked very loud 'bout the Fourth of July. 
 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie ! 
 
 Hurrah for the boys of Arkansas! 
 They'll bring Montgomery and Lane to taw. 
 Yoho! yoho! yoho! in Dixie! 
 
Immortelles. 139 
 
 They'll show them what we rebels do. 
 
 They'll make the trip right through and through. 
 
 Yo ho! yoho! yoho! in Dixie. 
 A battle fought, a battle won ; 
 McCulloch's work has now begun. 
 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie ! 
 And Woodruff's gallant little band 
 Was just in time to take a hand. 
 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie ! 
 
 Missouri feels in further danger; 
 
 The will be freed by the rebel ''Ranger." 
 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie ! 
 Our troops will rise like the swelling tide 
 And sweep her borders far and wide, 
 
 Yo ho ! yo ho ! yo ho ! in Dixie ! 
 
 GrEN, MaRMADUKE'S REPORT. 
 
 Headquarters 4th Div., Corps T. M. D., 1 
 Batesville, Ark., Jan. 18, 1863. J 
 
 Colonel: — In obedience to instructions fiom 
 Major-General Hindman, I marched from Lew- 
 isburg, Ark., December 31, 1862, via Yellville, 
 Ark., to strike the enemy in "rear and flank," 
 with 1,600 men under Shelby, and 270 men un- 
 der McDonald. Before marching I telegraphed 
 to Lieutenant-Greneral Holmes, if it would not 
 be best to move up the troops under Colonel 
 
140 immortelles. 
 
 White to co-operate in the movement, to which 
 he consented and the order was given. Colonel 
 Porter with 600 men moved forward for this 
 purpose. 
 
 En route in the Boston Mountains, Shelby at- 
 tacked 60 tones and deserters — killed 12, cap- 
 tured 27. 
 
 McDonald surprised, captured and burned Fort 
 Lawrence, on Beaver Creek, Mo. — of its garrison. 
 
 Shelby captured and burnt the fort at Ozark. 
 The garrison fled. 
 
 With Shelby and McDonald I attacked Spring- 
 field, Mo., after eight hours hard fighting, driving 
 the Yankees before me into their strongholds. 
 I captured one piece of artillery, a stockade fort, 
 a large part of the town, which the Yankees 
 burned as they retired. At night the fighting 
 ceased. The Federal force there was 4,200. My 
 loss was twenty killed and eighty wounded. 
 Federal loss much greater. I did not deem it 
 best to renew the attack. Next day marched 
 toward Eolla. The Federals fled before me. I 
 burned the forts at Sand Springs and Marshfield. 
 After passing through Marshfield, formed a 
 junction with Porter. After joining Porter, I 
 march southeasterly, making my way toward 
 Arkansas. At Huntsville I met, fought, and 
 drove in the direction of Lebanon 1,600 infantry 
 and 500 cavalry under General Merril. The 
 
Immortelles. 141 
 
 battle was desperate ; my loss was 15 killed and 
 70 wounded; of the former was the brave 
 McDonald, Lieutenant-Colonel Weimer, Major 
 Keitley and other brave officers and men. The 
 Federal loss was also heavy ; they sent in a flag- 
 to bury their dead. 
 
 I reached here to-day. Both men and horses 
 need rest. I will forward detailed report. 
 Respectfully, 
 
 J. S. Maemaduke, 
 Brigadier- General Commanding. 
 
 To Col. R. C. Newton, Chief of Staff, 1st Corps, T. M. Army. 
 
 James W. Jackson Who Fell at Alexandria. 
 
 Jackson was asleep in the second story. Ells- 
 worth entered his house (about day-break) and 
 proceeded to the roof to take down the flag'. 
 The servant who aroused him told him the house 
 was full of Lincoln men, and that some of them 
 had gone up after the flag, and begged him not 
 to leave his room. He rose immediately, and 
 dressing himself in haste, seized his double- 
 barrel shotgun, and had reached the first turn in 
 the stairway leading to the third story when he 
 
142 Immortelles. 
 
 met Ellsworth coming down with the flag 
 wrapped around him and followed by a number 
 of Zouaves. Without uttering a word Jackson 
 shot him, the load carrying a part of the flag, 
 like a piece of patching, into the heart itself, 
 where it was afterward found. 
 
 One of the Zouaves fired almost the same in- 
 stant upon Jackson, who was standing a little 
 below and looking up at the stairway. The ball 
 of the Zouave struck him just between the eyes, 
 on the bridge of the nose, and passed out at the 
 back of his head. In the very article of death 
 he returned the fire of his enemy, as he was fall- 
 ing, but without effect, the load was buried in 
 in the wall above his head. 
 
 Lines on the Death of Maj. Hall S. 
 McConnell. 
 
 [Inscribed to his mother and sisters.] 
 BY MATTIE LEWIS. 
 
 He has fallen, the patriot, brother and son, 
 
 The pride of his comrades. He who to victory led on 
 
 His true noble followers, his country to save, 
 
 Is filling in glory a brave soldier's grave. 
 
 No voice of affection or kindred was near 
 
 To comfort the heart that in life knew no fear; 
 
 No soft hand to wipe from his marble pale brow 
 
 The death dew when he felt that departure is now. 
 
Immortelles. 143 
 
 Ah! no; but his memory 
 
 By the brave and the free, 
 Is cherished too fondly 
 
 Forgotten to be. 
 
 Never more will the sound of his rallying voice 
 In words of command that made freeman rejoice 
 Be heard high above the battle's wild roaring; 
 Never more for the fearless, proud spirit is soaring 
 In regions of mysteries above mortal ken 
 Where kindred and comrades shall meet him again ; 
 His fame cannot die ; but in song and in story 
 Will the name of McConnell be covered with glory. 
 
 Ah! yes; for his memory 
 
 Remembered by me, 
 Is cherished too fondly 
 
 Forgotten to be. 
 
 A "Wab Time'' Lettee From Mrs. Emily 
 Maffitt to Mrs. Virginia "Wood- 
 ward, of Little Eock. 
 Clarksville, Ark.. Aug. 9th, 1862. 
 Dear Sister — I have hunted the place over 
 for a pen ; and now I am writing with one that 
 has been thrown away for years ; and it may be 
 you will not get to read this before the "Feds' ? 
 get to read it. We heard they were trying to 
 take Little Rock. 
 
 I am very busy spinning me some dresses. If 
 I had enough chain I would weave some for 
 
144 Immortelles. 
 
 you, but I have only enough for Orie and I. 
 I can spin my six cuts easy and when I get my 
 "hand in" can spin seven cuts. If the "Feds" 
 don't get up this far and destroy what few 
 clothes I have for Sunday, and I once get a 
 start, I shan't ask anybody any odds — if I only 
 had something to color with ; but I intend to do 
 like the rest, get bark and pine and cedar tops 
 and parsley. I have about half a pound of log. 
 wood but I don't intend everybody to know 
 that or I would be. tormented to death. Virge, 
 is there anything like indigo at Little Rock? 
 If there is and I could get two ounces I would 
 be glad. I am lucky in having cards, two- 
 thirds of the people haven't cards; they are in 
 a bad fix, some with large families. I will en- 
 quire around and see if I can get some jeans for 
 you, but I expect it will be a difficult matter to 
 get cotton stripes for dresses. Doctor hired 
 him some flannel spun and wove. I furnished 
 the chain and the lady the wool and she spun 
 and wove it for a dollar per yard. The prices 
 are awful, four dollars a yard for jeans cloth. 
 I intend to spin all I can. Would like to see 
 you but I reckon we'll have to wait patiently 
 until the war is over. 
 
Immortelles. 145 
 
 Mb. Breckinridge's Acceptance of the Rich- 
 mond Nomination, 
 
 Hon. John Erwin, President of the Richmond 
 Convention, has received the following letter 
 from Hon. J. C. Breckinridge, accepting the 
 nomination of that convention : 
 
 Lexington, July 26th, 1860. 
 In answer to your letter of 26th ult.. contain- 
 ing official information of my nomination for 
 the Presidency of the United States, by the 
 Democratic Convention assembled at Richmond, 
 I have to say that I accept the nomination, a 
 shall strive to merit the confidence implied by 
 the action of the convention. I trust that a 
 full discussion of existing issues will result in 
 establishing the Constitution and Union of the 
 States upon immovable foundations. 
 
 John C. Breckenridge. 
 
 The Platform that Breckinridge and Lane 
 
 Stand Upon. 
 
 Resolved, That the platform adopted by the 
 Democratic party at Cincinnati be affirmed with 
 the following explanatory resolutions: 
 
 1. Resolved, That the government of a ter- 
 ritory, organized by an act of Congress, is pro- 
 visional and temporary: during its existence all 
 
 i.— 10 
 
146 Immortelles, 
 
 citizens of the United States have an equal right 
 to settle with their property, in the territory, 
 without their rights of either person or property 
 being destroyed or impaired by congressional or 
 territorial legislation. 
 
 2. Resolved, That it is the duty of the Federal 
 government in all its departments to protect, 
 when necessary, the rights of persons and prop- 
 erty in the territories, and wherever else its con- 
 stitutional authority extends. 
 
 3. Resolved, That when the settlers in a ter- 
 ritory having an adequate population form a 
 State Constitution, the rights of sovereignty 
 commences, and being consummated by admis- 
 sion into the Union, they stand on an equal 
 footing with the people of other states, and the 
 state thus organized ought to be admitted into 
 the Federal Union, whether its constitution pro- 
 hibits or recognizes the institution of slavery. 
 
 4. Resolved, That the Democratic party are in 
 favor of the acquisition of the Island of Cuba 
 on such terms as shall be honorable to our- 
 selves and just to Spain at the earliest practical 
 moment. 
 
 5. Resolved, That the enactments of state 
 legislatures to defeat the faithful execution of 
 the fugitive slave law, are hostile in character, 
 subversive of the constitution, and revolutionary 
 in their effects. 
 
Immortelles. 147 
 
 6. Resolved, That the Democracy of the United 
 States recognize it as the imperative duty of this 
 government to protect the naturalized citizen in 
 all hi"i rights, whether at home or in foreign 
 lands, to the same extent as its native born cit- 
 izen. 
 
 And whereas, One of the greatest necessities 
 of the age, in a political, commercial, postal and 
 military point of view, is a speedy communica- 
 tion between the Pacific and Atlantic coasts, 
 therefore, be it 
 
 Resolved, That the democratic party do hereby 
 pledge themselves to use every means in their 
 power to secure the passage of some bill to the 
 extent of the constitutional authority of Con- 
 gress for the construction of a Pacific railroad 
 from the Mississippi river to the Pacific ocean, 
 at the earliest practical moment. 
 
 A platform just to the North, just to the 
 South, just to the East and just to the West, 
 clearly defining the equality of the states and 
 rights of all under the Constitution, as ex- 
 pounded by the Supreme Court, and they nom- 
 inated Breckinridge and Lane as the standard 
 bearers of the national Democracy. 
 
148 Immortelles. 
 
 Ho! For Breckinkidge and Lane. 
 
 By Chas. C. Reed. 
 
 Huzzah! Huzzah! for Breckinridge, 
 
 Kentucky's proudest son, 
 The noblest work of Liberty 
 
 "That e'er the sun shone on." 
 March in the bands of "equal rights" 
 
 For Breckinridge and Lane ; 
 
 Upon our flag shall be, 
 "Equality and Equal Rights," 
 
 The banner of the free. 
 
 How a Texas Girl Writes. 
 
 It has been said here that some of our Texas 
 soldiers who are in Arkansas have become dis- 
 satisfied and some have come home. I hope that 
 the great body of the troops are firm and true. 
 If the appeal of a girl would be heeded, I would 
 say to them : Dear friends, do not desert your 
 post. You have suffered, endured hardships; 
 but endure a while longer. If subjugated, think 
 of the fate of the Southern women. Think of 
 your mothers, sisters, wives and sweethearts, 
 and be firm. Here in Fannin County the women 
 have not been idle. The women of Texas have 
 spun, woven and made up clothing, besides con- 
 tributing in every possible way to the comfort 
 and welfare of the soldiers. If, instead of 
 
Immortelles. 149 
 
 depending on the speculators, who bring goods 
 and sell them at 500 per cent, the government 
 would furnish us with thread at a fair price, 
 we could make ample supplies of clothing. 
 Since last summer I have made 172 yards of 
 cloth, and if I could get thread would make as 
 much more. In our way and with our means, 
 we are fighting the great battle for liberty, and 
 do not despond or grow impatient, for in good 
 time God will give us peace and independence. 
 I do not believe I have a relative so lost to honor 
 as to desert so glorious a cause as ours in this, 
 the most critical and trying time. Think, my 
 friends, that the fate of those you love; the fate 
 of civil and religious freedom : the hope of the 
 world and the glory of our beautiful country, are 
 in your hands. Be not recreants, but be men 
 — brave men, true men, patient men and heroes. 
 Respectfully, 
 
 A. L. J. BOMBAKGEE. 
 
 Fannin County. Texas. 
 
 Stonewall Jackson's Boys in Came. 
 
 It is when idle in camp that the soldier is a 
 great institution, yet one that must be seen to 
 be appreciated. Pen can not fully paint the air 
 
150 Immortelles, 
 
 of cheerful content, care, hilarity, irresponsible 
 loungings, and practical spirit of jesting that 
 "obtains," ready to seize on any odd circum- 
 stance in its licensed levity. A " cavalry-man" 
 comes rejoicing in immense top boots, for which, 
 in fond pride, he has invested full forty dollars 
 of pay. At once the cry of a hundred voices 
 follow him along the line: "Come up out'er 
 them boots ! Come out ! Too soon to go into 
 winter quarters! I know you're in there! See 
 your arm stickin' out." A bumbkin rides by 
 in an uncommonly big hat, and is frightened at 
 the shout: "Come down outer that hat; come 
 down. 'Tain't no use to say you ain't up thar! 
 I see your legs hanging out." A fancy staff 
 officer was horrified at the irreverent reception 
 of his nicely twisted moustache as he heard from 
 behind innumerable trees: "Take them mice 
 out of your mouth. No use saying they ain't 
 there; 1 saw their tails sticking out." Some- 
 times a rousing cheer is heard in the distance. 
 It is explained: "Boys, look out! Here comes 
 old Stonewall!" 
 
Immortelles. 151 
 
 Lines. 
 By a Volunteer. 
 
 Do not think that the volunteer selfishly pines 
 
 At the hardships that fall to his share ; 
 Do not think that his heart for one moment resigns 
 
 The sad thought of home sorrows and care. 
 
 Oh! 'tis not in the fierce tide of conflict alone 
 That our freedom and rights have been won — 
 
 To each warrior's grasp comes a woman's low moan, 
 Whose faint echo no soldier would shun. 
 
 Are there no weary fingers and no aching heads 
 
 Toiling long for the brother in camp? 
 Are there no hapless families left to vague dreads 
 
 Of the approach of stern penury's tramp. 
 
 Are there no homeless mothers or wives in despair 
 
 Drifting down upon poverty's stream? 
 What brave man with such sufferings at home would com- 
 pare 
 
 His own trials though hard they may seem? 
 
 Though the sentinal couches beneath the rude storm, 
 And more lightly encases the old tattered blanket around 
 his shivering form ; 
 
 Yet he thinks not alone of the cold, 
 He can brace up his nerves to withstand the rude blast. 
 
 But he trembles again at the sigh 
 That comes home to his ear, as each wild gust sweeps 
 past, 
 Bringing anguish his heart tells him why. 
 
 'Mid the fierce clash of arms, when a grave seems to 
 yawn 
 
 'Neath the feet as he presses the foe, 
 For one moment his eye dims for those who may mourn 
 
152 Immortelles. 
 
 Weary years after he is laid low. 
 Though his soul aches with grief as he leaves his canteen 
 
 With a comrade whose life's reed is broke, 
 By that chain on the dying man's breast he has seen 
 That two hearts have been rent by the stroke. 
 
 April 14, 1863. 
 
 The name of Patrick Cleburne of the Confed- 
 erate army is one which should not be forgotten 
 in the military annals of our race. He was the 
 hero of over thirty pitched battles, and the 
 number of minor actions in which he partici- 
 pated is beyond precedent. He was distin- 
 guished for decision, and almost every move- 
 ment committed to his division was successful. 
 He received the incessant congratulation of the 
 Southern press, and was complimented by the 
 Confederate congress. After the death of Jack- 
 son, he got the soubriquet of u The Stonewall 
 of the South." For he was to the army of 
 Tennessee what Jackson was to that of Virginia. 
 But most of all, he was tender and generous to 
 the vanquished, and as Ferguson says, u Kindly 
 Irish to the Irish." He lies in a lonely grave 
 in the village of Columbia, Tennessee, whither 
 he was borne after the battle of Franklin by 
 one of his officers. History will not consign his 
 name to oblivion. This leaflet to his memory. 
 
Immortelles. 153 
 
 Clebuene. 
 
 How far and fast the autumn blast 
 
 Beats the dead leaves o'er the ground; 
 As fast and far as the hand of war 
 
 Strewed our country's brave around! 
 And their nameless graves are the ocean's caves, 
 
 The forest and the mountain glen, 
 Where the vulture screams and the angry streams 
 Are hiding the bones of men! 
 
 And what anguished cries 
 From the South arise, 
 From the brave ones fallen in vain? 
 While the victor North 
 Sings paeans forth. 
 And exults in her broad domain ! 
 
 As fire suppressed in Vesuvius' breast, 
 
 The latent fires of crime 
 In the human frame pulse on the same 
 
 Till fanned by the storms of time ; 
 As the lava fold swept uncontrolled 
 
 Where Pompeii's glories shone, 
 So the wakened rage of a vandal age 
 When freedom is overthrown ! 
 And we'll look in tears, 
 Through long long years. 
 For the brightness shrouded oe'r, 
 But t he golden rays 
 Of our halcyon days 
 Shall return to the land no more ! 
 
 But I sing of one whose glory shone 
 
 Like a meteor, bright and grand, 
 Who gave his name to the trump of fame 
 
 And his blood to a generous land. 
 The festive toast, 
 
154 Immortelles. 
 
 The soldier's boast, 
 The type of a martial age ! 
 
 The foe of wrong, 
 
 The soul of song, 
 And the light of a future page. 
 
 The base grow bold for the power of gold, 
 
 The vain through fear of scorn, 
 The good wax strong in their hate of wrong, 
 
 But he was a warrior born. 
 From his eagle glance and stern "Advance!" 
 
 And his action swift as thought, 
 The rank and file from his own fair ilse 
 Their courage electric caught, 
 As the whirlwind's path 
 Shows its fiercest wrath, 
 Through the lordliest forest pines, 
 So the deepest wave 
 Of the fallen brave 
 Told where Cleburne crossed the lines. 
 
 On Richmond's plain his captive train 
 
 Outnumbered the host he led, 
 And he won his stars on the field of Mars 
 
 Where the glorious Johnson bled! 
 'Twas his to cope while a ray of hope 
 
 Illumed his flag— and then 
 'Twas his to die while that "flag flew high " 
 In the van of chivalric men ! 
 Nor a braver host 
 Could Erin boast, 
 Nor than he a more gallant knight, 
 Since the peerless Hugh 
 Crossed the Avon dhu, 
 And Bagnal's hosts aflight. 
 
 There were friends afar who watched your star 
 As it rose with the Southern cross, 
 
Immortelles. 155 
 
 There were hearts that bled when its course was 
 sped 
 And old Ireland felt your loss! 
 While her flowers blow or her waters flow 
 
 Through Shannon Suir and Lee. 
 The patriot's song shall roll along 
 Their winding waves for thee ! 
 
 And they'll tell with pride 
 How Cleburne died 
 In the land of the free and brave, 
 How his sword of might 
 Was a beam of light, 
 Though it led to an exile's grave. 
 
 Dead on Manassas Plain. 
 By J. Augustine Signiago. 
 
 Close beside the broken grasses, 
 
 Near the setting of the day, 
 On the plain of red Manassas, 
 
 Low a Northern soldier lay; 
 And his comrades all were flying 
 
 Fast before their Southern foes. 
 He was wounded, and was dying, 
 
 Where the wild grass thickly grows. 
 
 Far away from every brother, 
 
 He was dying all alone — 
 And the thoughts of home and mother 
 
 Made him shudder, sigh and moan — 
 When a wounded Southerner spied him, 
 
 And, forgetting they were foes, 
 Dragged himself, with pain, beside him, 
 
 And gave comfort to his woes. 
 
156 Immortelles. 
 
 There the Southerner was kneeling, 
 
 Praying on his native sod — 
 For the dying man appealing 
 
 To the mercy of their God, 
 And while they could smell the slaughter 
 
 Of that bloody battle scene, 
 Gasped the dying man for water, 
 
 And drank from his foe's cateen. 
 
 Fast the Northerner was straying 
 
 To that bright and better land; 
 Still the Southerner was praying, 
 
 And they pressed each other's hand, 
 Once more gazed at one another, 
 
 Once more pointed overhead, 
 Once more breathed the name of mother, 
 
 And the Northerner was dead. 
 
 All Over Now. 
 
 All over now! The trumpet blast, 
 The hurried tramping to and fro, 
 
 The sky with battle smoke o'ercast, 
 The flood of death and woe. 
 
 All ended now! The syren song 
 Of hope's estatic lay is hushed, 
 
 And minor chords, in plaintive tones, 
 Wail out when gayer notes are crushed. 
 
 'Neath feathery snow, in hallowed ground, 
 By far Potomac's rippling stream, 
 
 Our loved ones sleep. The lulling waves 
 Can ne'er disturb the soldier's dream. 
 
Immortelles. 157 
 
 Then whisper "Peace" — the dove of peace, 
 
 Like Noah's, searches for her nest. 
 She folds her wings among the dead, 
 
 But with the living finds no rest! 
 
 All over now ! We gave our all — 
 
 Our loved ones, home and prayers. 
 God willed that we awhile should wait, 
 
 In bitterness and tears. 
 
 What need of tears? Why must they flow 
 When all but life and breath are gone? 
 
 God help us all! — and help the heart 
 To murmur still, "Thy will be;done." 
 
 And Heaven those heartfelt tears doth take 
 
 Upon a cloudlet's breast 
 And bear them to the distant field, 
 
 Where the soldier lies at rest, 
 
 And pour them on the cloud as dew 
 
 Upon the hero slain, 
 That he no more unwept may lie 
 
 Upon the distant plain. 
 
 When falls the soldier brave, 
 
 Dead at the feet of wrong, 
 The poet sings, and guards his grave 
 
 With sentiment of song. 
 
 Go, songs! he gives command! 
 
 Keep faithful watch and true — 
 The living and the dead of the conquered land 
 
 Have now no guards save you. 
 
 And ballads, mark ye well, 
 
 Thrice holy is your trust. 
 Go out to the fields where warriors fell, 
 
 And sentinel the dust. 
 
158 Immortelles. 
 
 An Old Battlefied in Georgia. 
 
 By Frank L. Stanton. 
 
 The softest whisperings of the scented South, 
 And rust and roses in the cannon's mouth; 
 And where the thunders of the fight were born, 
 The wind's wild tenor in the tinkling corn; 
 With songs of larks, low lingering in the loam, 
 And blue skies bending over love and home — 
 And far away somewhere upon the hills, 
 Or where the vales ring with the whip-poor-wills 
 Sad, wistful eyes, and breaking hearts that beat 
 For the loved sound of unreturning feet; 
 And when the oaks their leafy banners wave, 
 Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave. 
 
 Freedom and Eight. 
 By John W. Hood ward. 
 
 O, say, not believe not the gloom of the grave 
 
 Forever has closed upon Freedom's glad light, 
 Or sealed are the lips of the honest and brave, 
 
 Or the scorners of baseness are robbed of their right ; 
 Though the true to their oaths into exile are driven, 
 
 Or weary with wrong with their own hands have given 
 Their blood to their foes and their spirits to Heaven, 
 
 Yet immortal is Freedom— immortal is Right! 
 
 Let us not be by partial defeats disconcerted, 
 They will make the grand triumphs more signal and 
 bright ; 
 Thus whetted, our zeal will be double exerted, 
 
Immortelles. 159 
 
 And the cry be raised louder of Freedom and Right! 
 For these two are one, and they mock all 
 
 Of despots their holy alliance to sever. 
 Where there's Right be sure there are Freeman, and ever 
 
 Where Freeman are found, God will prosper the Right. 
 
 And battle they still where the voice of earth's sorrow 
 
 Tells of wrongs to avenge, and oppressors to smite; 
 And conquerors to-day, or conquered to-morrow, 
 
 Fear ye not in the end they will conquer outright — 
 Oh! to see the bright wreath round the victor brows 
 shining, 
 
 The laurel and bay in their green folds entwining 
 The German oak-leaf and Shamrock combining, 
 
 And above them our flag in the breeze and the light! 
 
 There are sore, aching bosoms, and dim eyes of weepers, 
 Will be gathered to rest e'er that day sees the light; 
 
 But ye, too, will hallow the graves of the sleepers, 
 The blest ones, we owe to them Freedom and Right! 
 
 Fill your glasses meanwhile: To the hearts that were true, 
 boys! 
 Who had wrongs to redress, but won right for you, boys ; 
 
 Drink to them! to the Right! to the Freedom and Right! 
 
160 Immortelles, 
 
 The Memorable Month. 
 The month of April, 1865, will stand mem- 
 orable in our history above all other periods of 
 time. Here are the leading events: 
 
 April 1 — Sheridan's victory at Five Forks. 
 
 April 2 — The grand assault at Petersburgh. 
 
 April 3— Occupation of Richmond. 
 
 April 6 — Sheridan routes Lee's forces. 
 
 April 9 — Lee surrenders to Grant. 
 
 April 12 — Our forces occupy Mobile. 
 
 April 11 — Assassination of President Lincoln. 
 
 April 15 — Andrew Johnson becomes Pres- 
 ident. 
 
 April 16 — Battle of Columbus, Georgia, last 
 fight of the war. 
 
 April 19 — Funeral of the President at Wash- 
 ington/ 
 
 April 26 — Death of the assassin Booth. 
 
 April 26 — Surrender of General Johnston's 
 armv. 
 
 The Band in the Pines. 
 
 [Heard after Pellham died.] 
 
 By John Eston Cooke. 
 
 Oh! band in the pine woods cease! 
 
 Cease with your splendid call; 
 The living are brave and noble, 
 
 But the dead were the bravest of all. 
 
Immortelles. 161 
 
 They throng the martial summons 
 
 To the loud triumphant strain, 
 And the dear bright eyes of long dead friends 
 
 Come to the heart again. 
 
 They come with the ringing bugle, 
 
 And the deep drum's mellow roar, 
 'Till the soul is faint with longing 
 
 For the hand we clasp no more. 
 
 Oh ! band in the pine wood cease ! 
 
 Or the heart will melt in tears, 
 For the gallant eyes and smilling lips, 
 
 And the voices of old years. 
 
 'Oh! death, thou pleasing end of human woe, 
 Thou cure for life, thou greatest good below; 
 Still may'st thou fly the coward and the slave, 
 And thy soft slumbers only bless the brave." 
 
 My Soldier Boy. 
 
 I am dreaming, ever dreaming of a silver- sanded shore, 
 
 Where the blue waves softly murmur as they roll forever- 
 more, 
 
 Where the sunbeams brightly glowing kiss the wavelets as 
 they flow, 
 
 And the scented breeze is sighing where the orange flowers 
 blow, 
 
 'Till the music of the waters with their cadence low I hear 
 
 As it mingles with the sighing breeze and falls upon my 
 ear; 
 
 And I seem to breathe the odors that are wafted from that 
 shore 
 
 Where my heart is fondly turning, fondly tnrning ever 
 more. 
 
 I.— 11 
 
162 Immortelles. 
 
 When the sunset melts in glory and the daylight softly 
 dies 
 
 'Till the purple twilight deepens and o'er all in splendor 
 lies, 
 
 When nor voice nor sound is heard save the whisperings 
 of the breeze 
 
 As evening chants her vespers low among the leafy trees, 
 
 As I watch the golden hues that fade and vanish from my 
 sight 
 
 Like the hopes and dreams of vanished years when lost in 
 gloomy night — 
 
 More glorious is the sunset fancy pictures on that shore 
 
 Where my heart is fondly turning, fondly turning ever- 
 more. 
 
 Do you ask why I am dreaming, ever dreaming of that 
 shore? 
 
 Why the music of its waters seems to haunt me evermore? 
 
 There encamped are Southern heroes, beside that mur- 
 muring sea, 
 
 And a soldier boy among them whose name is dear to me- 
 
 Who with that gallant hero band, in his country's hour of 
 of need, 
 
 When danger threatened, at her call resolved to save or 
 bleed; 
 
 And there beside that murmuring sea their white tents do, 
 the shore 
 
 Where ^ my heart is fondly turning, fondly turning ever- 
 more. 
 
 When the tranquil earth is dreaming in the soft embrace 
 
 of night, 
 And the quiet stars are keeping holy watch upon each 
 
 height ; 
 When angel eyes upon us seem a gentle watch to keep, 
 While some are wrapt in slumbers light— some are left to 
 
 weep ; 
 
Immortelles. 163 
 
 Then by that camp stand sentinels the solemn midnight 
 round, 
 
 And my soldier boy is keeping watch, or slumbering on the 
 ground; 
 
 I am praying Heaven to guard from ill that silver- sanded 
 shore 
 
 Where my heart is fondly turning, fondly turning ever- 
 more. 
 
 — T. E. Grayson. 
 
 Near Benton, Miss., Oct., 1861. 
 
 Ox the Death of General " Stonewall' ' 
 Jackson. 
 
 The leaf has perished in the green, 
 And while we breath beneath the sun, 
 The world, which credits what is done, 
 
 Is cold to all what might have been. 
 
 Hide your sweet faces, beautiful flowers; 
 Forget me ! forget me ! bright blooming bowers ; 
 Steal away! steal away! glowing sunbeams, 
 We can not bear you now — for sorrow's dark dreams 
 Had ne'er pictured true the grief that will rest 
 Forever, and aye, in a proud nation's breast. 
 O, hush birdling! hush your joyous lay. 
 And cease brooklet, cease ! your song is too gay — 
 For why will you joy and beauty now bring. 
 "When merciless death hath wintered our spring? 
 The hero is gone! 
 
 Morn for him! morn for him! — best of the brave. 
 Scatter ye love garlands over his grave : 
 Aged and young, soldiers, lover and friend, 
 
164 Immortelles. 
 
 Anthems of praise with your requiems blend — 
 Praise for the greatness that praise leaves untold. 
 
 Quietly weep, ne'er the life that is cold! 
 A nation's sad heart in comfortless woe 
 Be the death -knell tolling soft, sweetly and low. 
 Jackson is gone ! 
 
 —Lillian Rosell Messenger. 
 Tuscumbia, Ala., May 13, 1863. 
 
 John Pelham. 
 
 [Kelley's Ford, March 17, 1863.] 
 Just as the spring comes laughing through the strife > 
 
 With all its gorgeous cheer, 
 In the bright April of historic life, 
 
 Fell the great cannoneer. 
 
 The wondrous lulling of a hero's breath 
 
 His bleeding country weeps — 
 Hushed in the alabaster arms of death, 
 
 Our young Marcellus sleeps. 
 
 Nobler and grander than the child of Rome, 
 
 Curbing his chariot's steeds — 
 The knightly action of a Southern home 
 
 Dazzled the land with deeds. 
 
 Gentlest and bravest in the battle brunt, 
 
 The champion of the truth, 
 He bore his banner to the front 
 
 Of our immortal youth. 
 
 A clang of sabres 'mid Virginia snow, 
 
 The fiery pang of shells, 
 And there's a waft of immortal woe 
 
 In Alabama dells. 
 
Immortelles. 165 
 
 The pennant droops that lead the sacred band 
 
 Along the crimson field; 
 The meteor blade sinks from the nerveless hand 
 
 Over the spotless shield. 
 
 We gazed and gazed upon that beauteous face, 
 
 While round the lips and eyes, 
 Couched in their marble slumber, flashed 
 
 The grace of a divine surprise. 
 
 O Mother of a blessed soul on high! 
 
 Thy tears may soon be shed. 
 Think of thy boy, with princes of the sky, 
 
 Among the Southern dead. 
 
 How must he smile on this dull world beneath, 
 
 Fevered with swift renown. 
 He, with the martyr's amaranthine wreath 
 
 Twining the victor's crown! 
 
 James R. Randall. 
 
 My Wife and Child. 
 By Henry R. Jackson. 
 
 The tattoo beats, the lights are gone, 
 The camp around in slumber lies. 
 
 The night with solemn pace moves on ; 
 The shadows thicken o'er the skies, 
 
 But sleep my weary eyes hath flown, 
 And sad, uneasy thoughts arise. 
 
 I think of thee, oh, dearest one 
 Whose love my early life hath blest, 
 
 Of thee and him, our baby boy, 
 Who slumbers on thy gentle breast ; 
 
 God of the tender, frail and lone, 
 Oh, guard the tender sleeper's rest. 
 
166 Immortelles. 
 
 Now, while she kneels before Thy throne, 
 Oh, teach her, Ruler of the Skies, 
 
 That while by Thy behest alone 
 Earth's mightiest powers fall or rise, 
 
 No tear is wept to Thee unknown, 
 No hair is lost, no sparrow dies ; 
 
 That Thou canst stay the ruthless hand 
 Of dark disease, and soothe its pain; 
 
 That only by Thy stern commands 
 The battle 's lost, the soldier 's slain; 
 
 That from the distant sea or land 
 Thou bring'st the wanderer home again. 
 
 Whatever lot may fate bestow, 
 Loved with a passion almost wild, 
 
 By day, by night, in joy or woe, 
 By fears oppressed or hopes beguiled, 
 
 From every danger, every foe, 
 
 Oh, God, protect my wife and child. 
 
 Stonewall Jackson's Death — The Last Hours 
 of His Lile. 
 
 The spring of 1862 j saw a large Federal army 
 assembled on the north bank of the Rappahan- 
 nock, and, on the first of May, G-eneral Hooker, 
 its commander, had crossed and firmly estab- 
 lished himself at Chancellorsville. General 
 Lee's forces were opposite Fredericksburg, 
 chiefly a small body of infantry only watching 
 the upper fords. This latter was compelled to 
 
Immortelles. 167 
 
 fall back before General Hooker's great force, 
 stated by Major-General Price, of the United 
 States army, in the New York Herald, to the 
 number of 159,300 men, and Lee hastened, by 
 forced marches, from Fredericksburg to Chan- 
 cellorsville, to check the further advance of the 
 enemy. This was on May 1, and the Confed- 
 erate advance force, under Jackson, on the 
 same evening, attacked General Hooker's in- 
 trenchments facing towards Fredericksburg. 
 They were found impregnable, the dense thick- 
 ets having been converted into abattis, and every 
 avenue of approach defended with artillery. 
 General Lee, therefore, directed the assault to 
 cease, and consulted with his corps commanders 
 as to further operations, Jackson suggested a 
 rapid movement around the Federal front and a 
 determined attack upon the right flank of Gen- 
 eral Hooker, west of Chancellorsville. The 
 ground on his left and in his front gave such 
 enormous advantages to the Federal troops that 
 an assault there was impossible, and the result 
 of the consultation was the adoption of Jack- 
 son's suggestion to attack the enemy's right. 
 Every preparation was made that night, and on the 
 morning of May 2 Jackson set out "with Hill's, 
 Rhodes' and Colston's divisions, in all 22,000 
 men, to accomplish his undertaking. Chancel- 
 lorsville was a single brick house of large dimen- 
 
168 immortelles. 
 
 sions, situated on the plank road from Freder- 
 icksburg to Orange, and all around it were the 
 thickets of the country known as the "Wilder- 
 ness. In this tangled undergrowth the Federal 
 works had been thrown up, and such was the 
 denseness of the woods that a column moving 
 a mile or two to the south was not apt to be 
 seen. Jackson calculated upon this, but for- 
 tune seemed against him. At the Catherine 
 Furnace, a mile or two from the Federal line, 
 his march was discovered and a hot attack was 
 made on his rear guard as he moved past. All 
 seemed now discovered, but, strange to say, 
 such was not the fact. The Federal officers 
 saw him plainly, but the winding road which he 
 pursued chanced here to bend towards the 
 south, and it was afterward discovered that 
 Greneral Hooker supposed him to be in full re- 
 treat upon Richmond. Such at last was the 
 statement of Federal officers. Jackson repulsed 
 the attack upon his rear, continued his march 
 and, striking into what is called the 
 Brook road, turning the head of his column 
 northward, and rapidly advanced around Gren- 
 eral Hooker's right flank. A cavalry force un- 
 der Greneral Stuart had moved in front and on 
 the flanks of the column, driving off scouting 
 parties and other too inquisitive wayfarers; and, 
 on reaching the junction of the Orange and 
 
Immortelles. 169 
 
 G-ermanna roads, a heavy Federal picket was 
 forced to retire. General Fitz. Lee then in- 
 formed Jackson that, from a hill near at hand, 
 he could obtain a view of the Federal works, 
 and, preceding thither, Jackson reconnoitered. 
 This reconnoisance showed him that he was not far 
 enough to the left, and he said briefly to an aid, 
 "Tell my column to cross that road," pointing 
 to the plank road. His object was to reach the 
 old turnpike, which ran straight down into the 
 Federal right flank. It was reached at about 5 
 o'clock in the evening, and, without a moment's 
 delay, Jackson formed the line of battle for an 
 attack. Rhodes' division moved in front, sup- 
 ported, at an interval of two hundred yards, by 
 Colston's, and behind these A. P. Hill's division 
 marched in column, like the artillery, on ac- 
 count of the almost impenetrable character of 
 the thickets on each side of the road. Jack- 
 son's assault was sudden and terrible. It struck 
 the Eleventh corps, commanded on this occasion 
 by General Howard, and completely surprised 
 them ; they retreated in confusion upon the heavy 
 works around Chancellorsville. Rhodes and 
 Colston followed them, took possession of the 
 breastworks across the road, and a little after 
 8 o'clock the Confederate troops were within less 
 than a mile of Chancellorsvile, preparing for a 
 new and a more determined attack. 
 
1<0 Immortelles. 
 
 Jackson's plan was worthy of being the last 
 military project conceived by that resolute and 
 enterprising intellect. He designed putting his 
 entire force into action, extending his left and 
 placing that wing between General Hooker and 
 the Rappahannock. Then, unless the Federal 
 commander could cut his way through, his army 
 would be captured or destroyed. Jackson com- 
 menced the execution of this plan with vigor 
 and an obvious determination to strain every 
 nerve and incur every hazard to accomplish so 
 decisive a success. Rhodes and Colston were 
 directed to retire a short distance and re-form 
 their lines, now greatly mingled, and Hill was 
 ordered to move to the front to take their places. 
 On fire with his great designs, Jackson then 
 moved forward in front of the troops toward 
 Chancellorsville; and there and then the bullet 
 struck him which was to terminate his career. 
 The details which follow are given on the 
 authority of Jackson's staff officers, and one or 
 two others who witnessed all that occurred. In 
 relation to the most tragic portion of the scene, 
 there remained, as will be seen, but a single 
 witness. Jackson had ridden forward on the 
 turnpike to reconnoitre and ascertain, if possible, 
 in spite of the darkness of the night, the position 
 of the Federal lines. The moon shone, but it 
 was struggling with a bank of clouds, ami 
 
Immortelles. 171 
 
 afforded but a dim light. From the gloomy 
 thickets on each side of the turnpike, looking 
 more weird and sombre in the half light, came 
 the melancholy notes of the whippoorwill. "I 
 think there must have been ten thousand,' 7 said 
 General Stewart afterwards. Such was the 
 scene amid which the events now about to be 
 narrated took place. Jackson had advanced, 
 with some members of his staff, consider- 
 ably beyond the building known as "Melzi 
 Chancellor's/' about a mile from Chancel- 
 lorsville, and had reached a point neaily op- 
 posite an old dismantled house in the woods 
 near the road, whose shell-torn roof may still 
 be seen, when he reined in his horse and re- 
 mained perfectly quiet and motionless, listened 
 intently for any indications of movements in 
 the Federal lines. They were scarcely two hun- 
 dred yards in front of him, and seeing the 
 danger to which he exposed himself, one of his 
 staff officers said: "General, don't you think 
 this is the wrong place for your' He replied 
 quickly, almost impatiently: "The danger is 
 all over, the enemy is routed. Go back and tell 
 A. P. Hill to press right on." The officer 
 obeyed, but had scarcely disappeared when a 
 sudden volley was fired from the Confederate 
 infantry in Jackson's rear, and on the right of 
 the road, evidently directed upon him and his 
 
172 Immortelles. 
 
 escort. The origin of this fire has never been 
 discovered, and after Jackson's death there was 
 little disposition to investigate an occurrence 
 which occasioned bitter distress to all who by 
 any possibility could have taken part in it. It 
 is possible, however, that some movement of 
 the Federal skirmishers had provoked the fire ; 
 if this is an error, the troops fired deliberately 
 upon Jackson and his party under the im- 
 pression that they were a body of Federal cav- 
 alry reconnoitering. It is said that the men 
 had orders to open on any object in front, 
 ' Especially upon cavalry," and the absence of 
 pie? ts or advance force of any kind on the 
 Co. uderate side explains the rest. The enemy 
 were almost in contact with them ; the Federal 
 artillery, fully commanding the position of the 
 troops, was expected to open every .moment, 
 and the men were just in that excited condition 
 which induces troops to fire at any and every 
 object they see. Whatever may have been the 
 origin of the volley, it came, and many of the 
 staff and escort were shot and fell from their 
 horses. Jackson wheeled to the left and gal- 
 loped into the woods to get out of range of the 
 bullets, but he had not gone more than twentv 
 steps beyond the edge of the turnpike, in the 
 thicket, when one of his brigades drawn up 
 within thirty yards of him fired a volley in 
 
Immortelles. 173 
 
 their turn, kneeling on the right knee, as the 
 flash of the guns showed, as though prepared 
 to " guard against cavalry.' 7 By this fire Jack- 
 son was wounded in three places. He received 
 one ball in his left arm, two inches below 
 the shoulder, shattering the bone and severing 
 the chief artery, a second passed through the 
 same arm below the elbow and the wrist, mak- 
 ing its exit through the palm of the hand; a 
 third bullet entered through the palm of his 
 right hand, about the middle, and passing 
 through, broke two bones. 
 
 At the moment when he was struck he was 
 holding his rein in his left hand, and his $gjit 
 was raised either in the singular gesture hal ,i|j*al 
 to him at times of excitement, or to protect his 
 face from the boughs of the trees. His left 
 hand immediately dropped at his side, and his 
 horse no longer controlled by the rein, and 
 frightened by the firing, wheeled suddenly and 
 ran from the fire in the direction of the Federal 
 lines. Jackson's helpless condition now ex- 
 posed him to a very distressing accident. His 
 horse ran violently between two trees, from one 
 of which a horizontal bough extended, at about 
 the height of his head, to the other, and as he 
 passed between the trees this bough struck him 
 in the face, tore off his cap, and threw him 
 violently back on his horse. The blow was so 
 
174 Immortelles. 
 
 violent as to nearly unseat him, but it did not 
 do so, and rising erect again he caught the 
 bridle with the broken and bleeding fingers of 
 his right hand, and succeeded in turning his 
 horse back into the turnpike. Here Capt. Wil- 
 burn of his staff succeeded in catching the reins 
 and checking the animal, who was almost frantic 
 with terror, at the moment when, from loss of 
 blood and exhaustion, Jackson was about to 
 fall from the saddle. The scene at this time 
 was gloomy and depressing. Horses mad with 
 fright at the close firing were seen running in 
 every direction, some of them riderless, others 
 defying control, and in the wood lay many 
 wounded and dying men. Jackson's whole 
 party, except Capt. Wilbourn and a member of 
 the signal corps, had been killed, wounded or 
 dispersed. The man riding just behind Jackson 
 had his horse killed; a courier was wounded, 
 and his horse ran into the Federal lines; Lieut. 
 Morrison, aid-de-camp, threw himself from the 
 saddle, and his horse fell dead a moment after- 
 wards; Capt. Howard was wounded and carried 
 by his horse into the Federal camps; Capt. 
 Leigh had his horse shot under him; Capt. 
 Forbes was killed, and Capt. Boswell, Jackson's 
 chief engineer, was shot through the heart, and 
 his dead body carried by his frightened horse 
 into the lines of the enemy near at hand. Such 
 
Immortelles. 175 
 
 was the result of the causeless fire. It had 
 ceased as suddenly as it began, and the 
 position in the road which Jackson now occu- 
 pied was the same from which he had been 
 driven. (Japt. Wilbourn, who, with Mr. Wynn 
 of the signal corps, was all that was left of the 
 party, noticed a singular circumstance which 
 attracted his attention at this moment. The 
 turnpike was utterly deserted with the exception 
 of himself, his companion and Jackson, but 
 in the skirting of thicket on the left he ob- 
 served some one sitting his horse by the side 
 of the road and coolly looking on, motion- 
 less and silent. The unknown individual was 
 clad in a dark dress, which strongly re- 
 sembled the Federal uniform, but it seemed 
 impossible that he could have penetrated to 
 that spot without being discovered, and what 
 followed seemed to prove that he belonged 
 to the Confederates. Captain Wilbourn di- 
 rected him to "ride up there and see 
 what troops those were" — the men who had 
 fired on Jackson — when the stranger slowly 
 rode in the direction pointed out, but never 
 returned with any answer. Who this silent per- 
 sonage was, is left to conjecture. Captain 
 Wilbourn, who was standing near Jackson, now 
 said, "They certainly must be our troops," to 
 which the general assented by a nod of the head, 
 
176 Immortelles. 
 
 but said nothing'. He was looking up the road 
 toward his lines, "with apparent astonishment," 
 and continued for some time to look in that direc- 
 tion, as if unable to realieze he could have been 
 fired upon and wounded by his own men. His 
 wound was bleeding profusely, the blood stream- 
 ing down so as to fill his gauntlets, and it was 
 necessary to secure assistance promptly. Capt. 
 Wilbourn asked him if he was much injured, and 
 urged him to make an effort to move his fingers, 
 as his ability to do this would prove that his arm 
 was not broken. An effort which his companion 
 made to strengthen it caused him great pain, 
 and, murmuring, "You had better take me 
 down," he leaned forward and fell into Captain 
 Wilbourn 's arms. He was so much exhausted 
 1 >y loss of blood that he was unable to take his 
 feet out of the stirrups, and this was done by 
 Mr. Wynn. He was then carried to the side of 
 the road and laid under a small tree, where 
 Captain Wilbourn supported his head, while his 
 companion went for a surgeon and an ambu- 
 lance to carry him to the rear, receiving strict 
 instructions, however, not to mention the occur- 
 rence to any one but Dr. McGuire, or another 
 surgeon. Captain Wilbourn then made an ex- 
 amination of the general's wounds. Removing 
 his field glasses and haversack, which latter 
 contained some paper and envelopes for dis- 
 
Immortelles, 
 
 i ( 
 
 patches, and two religious tracts, he put these 
 on his person for safety, and, with a small pen- 
 knife, proceeded to cut away the sleeves of the 
 india-rubber overall, dress coat, and two shirts 
 from the bleeding* arm. While this duty was 
 being performed, General Hill rode up with his 
 staff, and, dismounting beside the general, ex- 
 pressed his great regret at the accident. To the 
 question whether his wound was painful, Jack- 
 son replied, "Very painful, 7 ' and added that his 
 "arm was broken." General Hill pulled off his 
 gauntlets, which were full of blood, and his 
 sabre and belt were also removed. He then 
 seemed easier, and, having swallowed a mouth- 
 ful of whisky which was held to his lips, 
 appeared much refreshed. It seemed impossible 
 to move him without making his wound bleed 
 afresh, but it was absolutely necessary to do so, 
 as the enemy was not more than 150 yards dis- 
 tant, and might advance at any moment, and all at 
 once a proof was given of the dangerous position 
 which he occupied. Captain Adams, of Gen- 
 eral Hill's staff, had ridden ten or fifteen yards 
 ahead of the group, and was now heard calling 
 out: "Halt; surrender! Fire on them if they 
 don't surrender ! " At the next moment he came 
 up with two Federal skirmishers, who had at 
 once surrendered with an air of astonishment, 
 declaring that they were not aware that they 
 t.— 12 
 
178 Immortelles. 
 
 were in the Confederate lines. General Hill had 
 drawn his pistol, and mounted his horse, and he 
 now returned to take command of his line, and 
 advance, promising Jackson to keep his accident 
 from the knowledge of the troops, for which the 
 General thanked him. He had scarcely gone 
 when Lieutenant Morrison, who had come up, 
 reported the Federal lines advancing rapidly, 
 and then within about a hundred yards of the 
 spot, he exclaimed: "Let us take the General 
 up in our arms and carry him off." But Jack- 
 son said faintly, "No; if you can help me up, I 
 can walk." He was accordingly lifted up, and 
 placed upon his feet, when the Federal batteries 
 in front opened with great violence, and Captain 
 Leigh, who had just arrived with a letter, had 
 his horse killed under him by a shell. He leaped 
 to che ground near Jackson, and the latter, 
 leaning his right arm on Captain Leigh 7 s shoul- 
 der, slowly dragged himself along towards the 
 Confederate lines, the blood from his wounded 
 arm flowing profusely over Captain Leigh's uni- 
 form. Hill's lines were now in motion to meet 
 the coming attack, and, as the men passed Jack- 
 son, they saw from the number and rank of his 
 escort that he must be a superior officer. "Who 
 is that — who have you there?" was called; to 
 which the reply was, "Oh, its only a friend of 
 ours, who is wounded." These inquiries be- 
 
Immortelles. 179 
 
 came, at last, so frequent that Jackson said to 
 his escort: "When asked, just say it is a Con- 
 federate officer." It was with utmost difficulty 
 that the curiosity of the troops was evaded. 
 They seemed to suspect something, and would 
 go around the horses, which were led along on 
 each side of the G-eneral to conceal him, to see 
 if they could discover who it was. At last one 
 of them caught a glimpse of a. man who had lost 
 his cap, as we have seen in the woods, and was 
 walking bareheaded in the moonlight, and sud- 
 denly the man exclaimed in the most pitiful 
 tones, says an eye witness: "Great Grod; that 
 is General Jackson!" An evasive reply was 
 made, implying that this was a mistake, and the 
 man looked from the speaker to Jackson with a 
 bewildered air, but passed on without further 
 comment. All this occurred before Jackson 
 had been able to drag himself more than twenty 
 steps; but Captain Leigh had the litter at hand, 
 and, his strength being completely exhausted, 
 the General was placed upon it, and borne to- 
 ward the rear. The litter was carried by two 
 officers and two men, the rest of the escort 
 walking beside it and leading the horses. 
 They had scarcely began to move, how- 
 ever, when the Federal artillery opened a 
 furious fire upon the turnpike from the 
 works in front of Chancellorsville, and a hurri- 
 
180 Immortelles. 
 
 cane of shell and canister swept down the road. 
 What the eye then saw was a scene of disor- 
 dered troops, riderless horses and utter con- 
 fusion. The intended advance of the Confed- 
 erates had doubtless been discovered, and this 
 fire was directed along the road over which they 
 would move. By this fire Grenerals Hill and 
 Pender with several of their staff were wounded, 
 and one of the men carrying the litter was shot 
 through both arms and dropped his burden. 
 His companion did likewise, hastily flying from 
 the dangerous locality, and but for Captain 
 Leigh who caught the handle of the litter it 
 would have fallen to the ground. Lieutenant 
 Smith had been leading his own and the Gen- 
 eral's horse, but the animals now broke away 
 in uncontrollable terror and the rest of 
 the party scattered to find shelter. Under 
 these circumstances the litter was lowered 
 by Captain Leigh and Lieutenant Smith 
 into the road, and those officers lay down by it 
 to protect themselves in some degree from the 
 heavy fire of artillery, which swept the turnpike 
 and " struck millions of sparks " from the flinty 
 stones of the roadside. Jackson raised himself 
 up on his elbow and attempted to get up, but 
 Lieutenant Smith threw his arm across his 
 breast and compelled him to desist. They lay in 
 this manner for some minutes without moving, 
 
Immortelles. 181 
 
 the hurricane still sweeping over them. " So 
 far as I could see," wrote one of the officers, 
 4 'men and horses were struggling with a most 
 terrible death." The road was otherwise de- 
 serted. Jackson and his two officers were the 
 sole living occupants of the depot. The fire of 
 the canister soon relaxed, though that of shot 
 and shell continued, and Jackson rose to his 
 feet. Leaning on the shoulders of the party 
 who had rejoined him, he turned aside 
 from the road, which was again filling 
 with infantry, and struck into the woods, one 
 of the officers following with the litter. Here he 
 moved with difficulty among the troops, who 
 were lying down in line of battle, and the party 
 encountered G-eneral Pender, who had just been 
 slightly wounded. He asked who it was that 
 was wounded, and the reply was ' ' a Confed- 
 erate officer." General Pender, however, recog- 
 nized General Jackson, and exclaimed: "Ah, 
 General, I am sorry to see you have been 
 wounded. The lines here are so much broken 
 I fear we will have to fall "back." These words 
 seemed to affect Jackson strongly. He raised 
 his head and said, with a flash of the eye: 
 44 You must hold your ground, General Pender! 
 You must hold your ground, sir ! ' ' This was 
 the last order Jackson ever gave upon the field. 
 His strength was now completely exhausted, 
 
182 Immortelles. 
 
 and he asked to be permitted to lie down upon 
 the ground. But to this the officers would not 
 consent. The hot fire of the artillery, which 
 still continued, and the expected advance of 
 the Federal infantry, made it necessary to move 
 on, and the litter was again put in requisition. 
 The GJ-eneral, now nearly fainting, was laid upon 
 it, and some litter bearers having been pro- 
 cured, the whole party began to move through 
 the tangled wood toward Melzi Chancellor's. 
 So dense was the undergrowth and the ground 
 so difficult their progress was very slow. An 
 accident now occasioned Jackson untold agony. 
 One of the men caught his foot in a vine, and, 
 stumbling, let go of the litter, which fell heavily 
 to the ground. Jackson fell upon his left 
 shoulder, where the bone had been shattered, 
 and his agony must have been extreme. u For 
 the first time," says one of the party, "he 
 groaned, and that most piteously." He was 
 quickly raised, however, and a gleam of moon- 
 light passing through the foliage overhead re- 
 vealed his pale face, closed eyes and bleeding 
 breast. Those around him thought that he was 
 dying. What a death for such a man! All 
 around him was the tangled wood, and half 
 illumined by the struggling moonbeams; above 
 him burst the shells of the enemy, "exploding," 
 says an officer, "like showers of falling stars," 
 
Immortelles. 183 
 
 and in the pauses came the melancholy notes of 
 the whippoorwills borne on the night air. In 
 this strange wilderness the man of Port Repub- 
 lic and Manassas, who had led so many desperate 
 charges, seemed about to close his eyes and die. 
 But such was not to be the result then. When 
 asked by one of the officers whether he was 
 much hurt, he opened his eyes and said quietly, 
 without further exhibition of pain: "No, my 
 friend, don't trouble yourself about me." The 
 litter was then raised upon the shoulders of the 
 men, the party continued its way, and reaching 
 an ambulance near Melzi Chancellor's, placed 
 the wounded General in it. He was then borne 
 to the field hospital at Wilderness Run, some 
 five miles distant. 
 
 Here he lay throughout the next day, Sun- 
 day, listening to the thunder of the artillery 
 and the long roll of the musketry from Chan- 
 cellorsville, where Stuart, who had succeeded 
 him in command, was pressing G-eneral Hooker 
 back towards the Rappahannock. His soul 
 must have thrilled at that sound long familiar, 
 but he could take no part in the conflict. Lying 
 faint and pale in a tent in rear of the " Wilder- 
 ness Tavern," he seemed to be perfectly re- 
 signed, and submitted to the painful probing of 
 his wounds with soldierly patience. It was ob- 
 viously necessary to amputate the arm, and one 
 
184 Immortelles. 
 
 of his surgeons asked, " If we find ampu- 
 tation necessary, shall it be done at once?" 
 To which he replied with alacrity, "Yes.-; 
 certainly, Dr. McGruire, do for me whatever 
 you think right." The arm was then taken 
 off and ne slept soundly after the opera- 
 tion, and on waking began to converse about 
 the battle. "If I had not been wounded," he 
 said, "or had had one more hour of daylight. 
 I would have cut off the enemy from the road 
 to United States Ford; we would have them 
 entirely surrounded, and they would have been 
 obliged to surrender or cut their way out ; they 
 had no other alternative. My troops may some- 
 times fail in driving an enemy from a position, 
 but the enemy always fails to drive my men 
 from a position." It was about this time we 
 received the following letter from General Lee: 
 "I have just received your note informing me 
 that you were wounded. I cannot express my 
 regret at the occurrence. Could I have directed 
 events, I should have chosen for the good of 
 the country to have been disabled in your stead. 
 I congratulate you upon the victory which is 
 due to you skill and energy." The remaining 
 details of Jackson's illness and death are known. 
 He was removed to G-uinea's Depot, on the 
 Richmond and Fredericksburg railroad, where 
 gradually he sank, pneumonia having attacked 
 
Immortelles. 185 
 
 him. When told that his men on Sunday had 
 advanced upon the enemy shouting, "Charge 
 and remember Jackson!" he exclaimed, "It 
 was just like them! it was just like them! They 
 are a noble body of men. The men who live 
 through this war," he added, "will tell, 'I was 
 one of the Stonewall brigade' to their children." 
 Looking soon afterwards at the stump of his 
 arm, he said, "Many people would regard this 
 as a great misfortune. I regard it as one of the 
 great blessings of my life." He subsequently 
 said, "I consider these wounds a blessing, they 
 were given me for some good and wise purpose, 
 and I would not part with them if I could." 
 His wife was now with him and when she an- 
 nounced to him, weeping, his approaching 
 death, he replied with perfect calmness, "Very 
 good, very good, it is all right." These were 
 nearly his last words. He soon afterwards be- 
 came delirious and was heard to mutter, "Order 
 A. P. Hill to prepare for action!" "Pass the 
 infantry to the front! " "Tell Major Hawks to 
 send forward provisions for the men!" Then 
 his martial ardour disappeared, a smile diffused 
 itself over his pale features, and he murmured, 
 "Let us cross over the river and rest under the 
 shade of the trees ! ' ' It was the river of death 
 he was about to pass, and soon after uttering 
 these words he expired. Such are the circum- 
 
186 Immortelles. 
 
 stances which attended the last hours of the 
 soldier who had so long carried the Southern 
 standard, and accomplished snch extraordinary 
 successes. With his disappearance from the 
 scene the fortunes of the South like her banner 
 began to droop. The Federal forces were often 
 driven back thereafter but were never com- 
 pletely defeated. Great leaders were left, but 
 their exertions appeared to secure no definite 
 results. Jackson had passed away, by an in- 
 scrutable decree of the Almighty, and no one 
 seemed able to fill his place. — Virginia Cor- 
 respondence of the New York World. 
 
 Last W t ords of Stonewall Jackson. 
 
 BY D. S. MORRISON. 
 
 " Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of 
 the trees." 
 
 "Over the river," a voice meekly said, 
 Whose clarion tones thousands had obeyed, 
 As in ranks upon ranks they grandly rushed on 
 To battle for liberty, country and home. 
 
 "Over the river," immortality's plains, 
 In verdure eternal where peace ever reigns, 
 Rejoice with their beauty his vision of faith, 
 As the spirit approaches the river of death. 
 
Immortelles. 187 
 
 " Over the river," oh! glorious sight, 
 An escort celestial awaits with delight, 
 In the glittering armor of glory arrayed, 
 They welcome him over to rest in the shade. 
 
 "Over the river," no more to command 
 The drum beat to arms in a war- stricken land; 
 No bugle call summons the brave to the fray, 
 No squadrons leap forth in battle array. 
 
 "Over the river," now a heavenly guest, 
 'Neath the shades of the trees forever at rest; 
 His memory and fame to ages belong, 
 And his lofty deeds live in story and song. 
 New Orleans, 1865. 
 
 The Burial of Lieutenant-general Jackson. 
 
 (A Dirge.) 
 
 [Shortly after the lamented death of the great 
 Stonewall Jackson, the following dirge ap- 
 peared in the Richmond Whig, from the pen 
 of A. W. Kerejieval, Esq., of Virginia, writ- 
 ten to the music of ''Oporto," the Portuguese 
 hymn of the Nativity, a tune which had been 
 appropriated by the Virginia troops for the 
 burial of their dead.] 
 
 Comrades, advance! Your colors draped with mourning. 
 
 Muffled your drums, and arms reversed, ye brave. 
 Trumpets blow dirges for the great commander, 
 
 Ye follow gallant Jackson to his grave. 
 
188 Immortelles. 
 
 Muskets, fire clear, your iron throats peal thunder 
 O'er him who oft victorious legious led; 
 
 Commemorate ye still the great commander, 
 As volley answers volley o'er him dead." 
 
 Bands now strike up your noblest martial music, 
 Light lie the turf on his heroic breast, 
 
 While fair hands strew immortelles o'er him fallen- 
 Oh, emblems pure and holy of his rest! 
 
 Close up the ranks, O brothers, all! 
 
 And feel each heart throb nearer, 
 The bravest at our side must fall, 
 
 The living are the dearer, 
 Yet pause a moment in the strife 
 
 To drop the tear of sorrow. 
 
 In October, 1894, Captain James Earwood, of 
 Clarksville, Ark., organized a company. With 
 a company, under Captain James Grarrett, on a 
 raid through the mountains north of Clarks- 
 ville, they were fired upon from ambush by a 
 scouting company of Federals. , 
 
 Captain Earwood and Lieutenant Davis were 
 instantly killed. First Lieutenant Watts took 
 command, charged the enemy and they were 
 put to flight. Returning to the spot they were 
 fired upon. He, with Robt. Jackson, Abe Mil- 
 ler, Will Mann, and other young comrades, took 
 the lifeless bodies of Lieutenant Davis and Cap- 
 
Immortelles. 189 
 
 tain Earwood on their saddles, carried them a 
 distance of ten miles to Clarksville for bur- 
 ial. They secretly dug the grave of Captain 
 Earwood at the risk of their being captured or 
 shot in the enemy's lines, and the body of the 
 brave soldier was left with a few neighbor 
 women, who proffered to assist in the ceremony 
 of burial. Such was a soldier's life in those 
 perilous days in Arkansas. 
 
 In Memory of Captain James Earwood. 
 
 In a quiet valley in Arkansas 
 You may find that lonely grave, 
 
 In rain and sunshine always 
 Where unkept grasses wave 
 
 At the twilight hour he was buried, 
 In haste, almost in sight of the foe, 
 
 By Southern women, with gentle hands, 
 So tenderly — their faces pale with woe. 
 
 They shaped the earth above him, 
 Without funeral dirge or psalm, 
 
 Just a sob from mourning hearts 
 To break the evening's calm. 
 
 No voice of prayer has hallowed 
 That brave soldier's place of rest, 
 
 No minister of God hath blest it 
 And yet it hath been blest. 
 
 For, in faith and hope, that little band 
 
 Looked up from the blood-stained sod 
 
 To a home above, where angels dwell, 
 
 Among the blest of God. 
 
 —Robin Reid. 
 Clarksville, Ark. 
 
190 Immortelles. 
 
 David Dodd, of Askansas. 
 By Fannie Borland. 
 
 Who knew what passed in those long years, 
 
 In Arkansas? 
 Who cared to mark the falling tears 
 
 Of Arkansas? 
 We know of many hero graves 
 Where not one wreath of laurel waves, 
 And not one stone a hearing craves 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 
 Thermopylae is far away 
 
 From Arkansas, 
 And knew of heroes ere the day 
 
 Of Arkansas. 
 Leonidas did hold the pass 
 Till men fell thick as summer grass 
 And one did read that in his class 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 
 Rome was held full many a sea 
 
 From Arkansas, 
 But we read the story of the three 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 And one did read it every day 
 And heard above his comrades' play 
 Strange voices call him far away 
 
 From Arkansas. 
 
 And when close by his college door 
 
 In Arkansas 
 He stood a mighty crowd before 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 He knew his lessons all were done, 
 Yet was beneath the Southern sun. 
 A lesson taught to many a one 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 
Immortelles. 191 
 
 He did not urge his youth's fair claim 
 
 On Arkansas, 
 Nor tell a single comrade's name, 
 
 Oh, Arkansas! 
 He would not take a length of days 
 That led through such dishonored ways. 
 Better a grave than blighted bays, 
 
 Oh, Arkansas! 
 
 He looked beyond the foeman's fire 
 
 To Arkansas. 
 He saw his comrades' camping fire in Arkansas! 
 He marked each form, unfettered, strong; 
 He heard them singing loud and long, 
 And half way broke into that song 
 
 Of Arkansas. 
 
 He saw his sister's eyes grow dim 
 
 In Arkansas, 
 With watching long and late for him 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 He saw his brother at the door 
 Look far across to the river shore. 
 He would not see them any more 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 
 Free breezes in his hair did play 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 And he might be as free as they 
 
 In Arkansas. 
 Only a few short words to say, 
 He looked up brightly to the day. 
 Heaven is not far away 
 
 From Arkansas. 
 
 He did not hold Thermopylae, 
 
 Oh, Arkansas! 
 Nor help to hew the bridge away, 
 
192 Immortelles. 
 
 Oh, Arkansas! 
 But the little hero held his tongue 
 And heard the death knell round him rung, 
 And saw the rope above him swung, 
 
 Oh, Arkansas! 
 
 Who knew what passed in those long years 
 
 In Arkansas, 
 Or darkened history with the tears 
 
 Of Arkansas? 
 And yet among each fairer State, 
 Who weeps his individual fate 
 Can one a grander tale relate 
 
 Than Arkansas? 
 Memphis, Tenn., October 16, 1868. 
 
 Confederate Dead at Gettysburg. 
 By Isaac F. Eaton. 
 
 The armies they bad ceased to fight, 
 
 The night was still and dark, 
 And many thousands on the field 
 
 Were lying stiff and stark. 
 The stretcher men had come along 
 
 And gathered all they could. 
 A hundred surgeons worked that night 
 
 Behind the clump of wood. 
 
 They flashed the lanterns in my face, 
 
 As they went hurrying by; 
 The sergeant looked, and said, "He's dead," 
 
 And I could not reply. 
 The bullet had gone through my breast ; 
 
 No wonder I was still. 
 But once will I be nearer death 
 
 Than when upon that hill. 
 
Immortelles. 193 
 
 A gray- clad picket came along, 
 
 Upon his midnight beat. 
 He came so near me that I tried 
 
 To move and touch his feet. 
 Instead, he bent and felt my breast, 
 
 Where life still fought at bay. 
 Xo one who loved me could have done 
 
 More than this man in gray. 
 
 Chilled with damp of blood and dew, 
 
 His blanket o'er me spread. 
 A crimson sheaf of wheat he brought, 
 
 A pillow for my head. 
 
 The sounds of war are silent now 
 
 We call no man our foe 
 But soldier hearts cannot forget 
 
 The scenes of long ago. 
 Dear are the ones who stood with us 
 
 To struggle or to die ; 
 Xo one can oftener breathe their names 
 
 Or love them more than I 
 
 But from my life, I'd give a year 
 That gray-clad man to see; 
 
 To clasp in love the foeman's hand 
 Who saved that life to me 
 
 13 
 
194 Immortelles. 
 
 Little Gtffen of Tennessee. 
 
 By Frank O. Tichnor. 
 
 Out of the focal and foremost Are, 
 Out of the hospital walls as dire! 
 Smitten of grapeshot and gangrene 
 (Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen!) 
 Specter, such as you seldom see, 
 "Little Giffen of Tennessee." 
 
 "Take him and welcome!" the surgeon said; 
 
 "Little the doctor can help the dead." 
 So we took him and brought him where 
 The balm was sweet in the summer air, 
 And we laid him down on a wholesome bed — 
 Utter Lazarus from heel to head! 
 
 And we watched the war with bated breath, 
 Skeleton boy against skeleton death; 
 Months of torture, how many such? 
 Weary weeks of stick and crutch, 
 And still a glint of the steel blue eye 
 Told of a spirit that wouldn't die. 
 
 And didn't; nay, more, In deaths despite, 
 
 The crippled skeleton learned to write. 
 "Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then 
 "Dear Captain," inquiring about the men. 
 
 Captain's answer: "Of eighty and five, 
 
 Giffen and I are left alive." 
 
 Word of gloom from the war one day, 
 Johnson pressed at the front they say. 
 Little Giffen was up and away; 
 A tear, his first, as he bade good-by 
 Dimmed the glint of his steel blue eye, 
 "I'll write, if spared." There was news of the fight, 
 But none of Giffen. He did not write. 
 
Immortelles. 195 
 
 I sometimes fancy, that were 1 a king 
 
 Of the princely Knights of the Golden Ring — 
 
 With the song of the minstrel in mine ear, 
 
 And the tender legend that trembles here, 
 
 I'd give the best on his bended knee, 
 
 The whitest soul of my chivalry 
 
 For " Little Giffen of Tennessee." 
 
 Fellow Feeling in the Army. 
 The Boy in Gray. 
 The day after the battle of Fredericksburg 
 Kershaw's brigade occupied Mary's Hill, and 
 Syke's division lay one hundred and fifty yards 
 ahead, with a stone wall between the two forces. 
 The intervening space between Syke's men and 
 the stolid wall was strewn with dead, dying and 
 wounded Union soldiers, victims of the battle 
 of the day before. The air was rent with 
 groans and agonizing cries of "Water! water!" 
 "Greneral," said a boy sergeant in gray, "I can't 
 stand this." "What is the matter, sergeant?" 
 asked the general. "I can't stand hearing those 
 wounded men crying for water. May I go and 
 give them some?" "Kirkland," said the gen- 
 eral, "the moment you step over the wall you'll 
 get a bullet through your head; the skirmish- 
 ing has been murderous all day." 
 
196 Immortelles. 
 
 "If you'll let me I'll try it." 
 
 "My boy, I ought not to let you run such a 
 risk, but I cannot refuse. God protect you; 
 you may go." 
 
 "Thank you, sir." And with a smile on his 
 bright, handsome face, the boy sergeant sprang 
 over the wall, down among the sufferers, pour- 
 ing the water down their parched throats. 
 After the first few bullets, his Christ-like errand 
 became understood, and shouts instead of bul- 
 lets rent the air. He came back at night to his 
 bivouac untouched. 
 
 An Incident of Battle. — The Boy in Blue. 
 By Mrs. May M. Anderson. 
 
 A drummer boy fell in the heat of battle, 
 
 Only a lad in a suit of gray; 
 He heard the shouts and the musketry rattle 
 
 Over the field where the wounded lay. 
 No one could help while the guns were raking 
 
 Meadow and wood with their leaden hail. 
 "The foe has charged and our lines are breaking; 
 
 "The day is lost," was his bitter wail. 
 
 He closed his eyes while the shock and thunder 
 
 Of awful carnage was opened anew, 
 Then fainted away; was it any wonder, 
 
 When another bullet had pierced him through? 
 He roused at last and the tide of battle 
 
 Again had changed, for he heard the fray 
 In the wood beyond with the ceaseless rattle 
 
 Of shot and shell in their deadly play. 
 
Immortelles. 197 
 
 His lips were parched and his throat was burning; 
 
 "0, for some water," he faintly sighed; 
 He heard at his feet the labored turning 
 
 Of a prostrate form, while a clear voice cried, 
 "My canteen's full but my arms are broken, 
 
 See, you can reach if you bend this way;" 
 He moved and groaned, and with thanks unspoken, 
 
 Reached for the water, then shrank away. 
 
 He saw with a start and a sudden quiver, 
 
 The youth at his feet wore a suit of blue, 
 And he marked the frown and the creeping shiver 
 
 Which mastered and held him and thrilled him 
 through, 
 At sound of the yell from the rebel forces, 
 
 Which told the tale that the fight was done — 
 To the Southern lad how the fresh life courses 
 
 Along his veins, for the fight is won! 
 
 "See here is water!" the youth had rallied, 
 
 And moved still nearer the form in gray. 
 It cost him much, for his face grew pallid: 
 
 He gasped, yet struggled to faintly say, 
 "I'd reach you the can but my arms are shattered," 
 
 Then closed his eyes in a death-like swoon. 
 He had given his all to a foe, what mattered, 
 
 When all would be ended so swift and soon? 
 
 With a sob in his throat for the hero before him, 
 
 The drummer boy turned, and with tremulous 
 touch 
 On the pale face sprinkled the water, and o'er him 
 
 Murmered a prayer. That was all; not much. 
 Not much, yet methinks when the sorrow and 
 
 anguish 
 
 For soldier and drummer boy ended that night, 
 Mid horrors around where faith seemed to languish, 
 
 The darkness was spanned by a rift of light. 
 
198 Immortelles. 
 
 A Southekn Exile. 
 A Letter from Hon. Jacob Thompson, of Mississippi. 
 
 Dublin, Aug. 11, 1866. 
 
 To Captain Wm. Delay: 
 
 My Dear Sir — Your interesting letter of the 
 16th ult. was received by me on yesterday, and 
 the only way in which I can manifest the un- 
 qualified pleasure it gives me is by making you 
 an immediate reply. 
 
 I never knew, until I was cast out an exile, 
 without home or country, and, apparently, 
 without friends, how necessary to human hap- 
 piness is human sympathy. A stranger in a 
 strange land, caring for nobody, nobody caring 
 for me, I determined, for my pleasure and im- 
 provement, to visit the principal scenes of his- 
 toric interest, and thus familiarize myself with 
 the story of those who had gone before me. I 
 went to Paris (which, take it all in all, is the 
 pleasantest city in the world), and there re- 
 mained until I could re-read her history and 
 learn something of the French language. Then 
 I went to Switzerland and visited the retreats of 
 the different distinguished exiles, who, in the 
 violence of party, had been driven from their 
 country to this place of quiet and safety. I 
 went to Rome, the home of the greatest men 
 and purest patriots, whose history adorns the 
 
Immortelles. 199 
 
 annals of the past, and there I remained two 
 months, industriously employed all the time in 
 examining the rains of former greatness and. 
 grandeur, never feeling the slightest interest in 
 the living, so absorbed with thoughts, principles 
 and actions of the mighhty dead. Then I went 
 to the delightful city of Naples — delightful for 
 its climate and situation, not for its people; 
 here was the seat of royalty now in banishment. 
 Then to Egypt, the cradle of letters and learn- 
 ing; then to Palestine, to tread the ground our 
 Savior trod ; to see the places at which he per- 
 formed his glorious works ; to climb the sides of 
 Mount Olivet; to stand on Mount Calvary; 
 drink the waters from the pool of Siloam, and 
 gaze upon the tomb where they laid his body, 
 which could only retain it for its appointed 
 time. From here I think I came away a better 
 man. I returned through the G-reek Isles, of 
 vast interest to the student ; up the Adriatic to 
 Venice — a most singular place, with a most mar- 
 velous history; thence through Vienna, Munich, 
 Frankfort, Cologne, Brussels, to Paris again. 
 Here Mrs. Thompson left, yearning to see the 
 land we both loved, and love still; but I could 
 not go with her. 
 
!00 immortelles. 
 
 Ashes of Gtloey. 
 
 By A. J. Requier. 
 
 Fold up the gorgeous silken sun, 
 By bleeding martyrs blest, 
 
 And heap the laurels it has won 
 Above its place of rest. 
 
 No trumpet's note need hardly blare, 
 
 No drum funeral roll, 
 Nor trailing sables drape the bier 
 
 That frees a dauntless soul! 
 
 It lived with Lee and decked his brow 
 From Fate's empyreal palm; 
 
 It sleeps the sleep of Jackson now, 
 As spotless and as calm. 
 
 It was outnumbered, not outdone, 
 And they shall shuddering tell 
 
 Who struck the blow its latest gun 
 Flashed ruin as it fell. 
 
 Sleep, shrouded ensign — not the breeze 
 That smote the victor tar 
 
 With death across the heaving seas 
 Of fiery Trafalgar; 
 
 Not Arthur's knights amid the gloom, 
 Their knightly deeds have starred ; 
 
 Not Gallic Henry's matchless plume, 
 Nor peerless born Bayard. 
 
 Not all that antique fables feign, 
 And orient dreams disgorge; 
 
 Nor yet the silver cross of Spain, 
 And Lion of St. George, 
 
Immortelles. 201 
 
 Can bid thee pale! Proud emblem still, 
 
 Thy crimson glory shines 
 Beyond the lengthened shades that fill 
 
 Their proudest kingly lines. 
 
 Sleep in thine own historic night, 
 
 And be thy blazoned scroll; 
 A warrior's banner takes its flight 
 
 To greet the warrior's soul. 
 
 The Earl of Deeby to G-eneral Lee. 
 
 [On the fly-leaf of the copy of the Iliad given by the late 
 Earl of Derby to General Lee] : 
 
 The grave old bard who never dies 
 Receive him in our native tongue ; 
 
 I send thee, but with weeping eyes, 
 The story that he sung. 
 
 Thy Troy has fallen ; thy dear land 
 Is marred beneath the spoiler's heel; 
 
 I cannot trust my trembling hand 
 To write the grief I feel. 
 
 Oh, home of tears! But let her bear 
 
 This blazon to the end of time; 
 No nation rose so white and fair, 
 
 None fell so pure of crime. 
 
 The widow's moan, the orphan's wail, 
 Are around thee ; but in truth be strong ; 
 
 Eternal right, though all things fail, 
 Can never be made wrong. 
 
 An angel's heart, an angel's mouth, 
 (Not Homer's) couid alone for me 
 
 Hymn forth the great Confederate South- 
 Virginia first, then Lee. 
 
202 Immortelles. 
 
 Humok in Camp. 
 
 The admiration for Stonewall Jackson was 
 by no means confined to his own section. 
 The Federal prisoners always expressed a 
 great desire to see him, and some 
 loudly cheered him. This was particularly 
 the case at Harper's Ferry, where the whole 
 line of 11,000 prisoners greeted him with lusty 
 shouts. Citizens say that the hostile troops 
 always spoke of him in terms of unqualified 
 praise. 
 
 A gentlemen in the Valley of Virginia relates 
 that when Fremont and Shields thought that 
 they had entrapped him beyond the possibility 
 of escape, Sigel's Dutch soldiers passed his 
 house crying, "Shackson in a shug!" (jug), 
 "Shackson in a shag!" And when they re- 
 turned from Port Republic, when asked what 
 they had done with Jackson; "By tarn, the 
 stopper came out of the shug. If the rebels 
 don't make him de President, Sigel's men will 
 make him." 
 
 "He'll See When He Wakes." 
 
 By Frank Lee. 
 [In one of the battles of Virginia a gallant 
 young Mississippian had fallen, and at night, 
 just before burying him, there came a letter 
 
Immortelles. 203 
 
 from his betrothed. One of the burial group 
 took the letter and laid it upon the breast of the 
 dead soldier with the words : ' ' Bury it with 
 him. He'll see when he wakes."] 
 
 Amid the clouds of battle smoke 
 
 The sun had died away, 
 And where the storm of battle broke 
 
 A thousand warriors lay. 
 A band of friends upon the field 
 
 Stood 'round a youthful form, 
 Who, when the war-cloud's thunder pealed, 
 
 Had perished in the rtorm. 
 Upon his forehead, on his hair, 
 
 The coming moonlight breaks, 
 And each dear brother standing there 
 
 A tender farewell takes. 
 
 But ere they laid him in his house 
 
 There came a comrade near, 
 And gave a token that had come 
 
 From her the dead held dear. 
 A moment's doubt upon them pressed, 
 
 Then one the letter takes, 
 And lays it upon his breast, 
 
 " He'll see it when he wakes." 
 O, thou, who dost in sorrow wait, 
 
 Whose heart with anguish breaks, 
 Though thy dear message came too late, 
 
 "He'll see it when he wakes." 
 
 No more amid the fiery storm 
 
 Shall his strong arm be seen, 
 No more his young and manly form 
 
 Tread Mississippi's green; 
 And e'en thy tender words of love— 
 
 The words affection speaks — 
 
204 Immortelles. 
 
 Come all too late — but oh ! thy love 
 " Will see them when he wakes." 
 
 No jars disturb his gentle rest, 
 No noise his slumber breaks, 
 
 But thy words sleep upon his breast, 
 " He'll see them when he wakes." 
 
 HOW THE SOLDIEKS TALK. 
 By Joseph Scrutchen, of Atlanta, Ga. 
 
 We have heard the Yankees yell, 
 
 We have heard the Rebels shout, 
 We have weighed the matter well, 
 
 And we mean to fight it out. 
 In victory's happy glow, 
 
 In the gloom of utter rout, 
 We've pledged ourselves, " Come weal or woe,' 
 
 By Heaven! to fight it out! 
 
 'Tis now too late to question 
 
 What brought the war about, 
 'Tis a thing of pride and passion, 
 
 And we mean to fight it out. 
 Let the " big wigs" use the pen, 
 
 Let them caucus — let them spout — 
 We've half a million Aveaponed men, 
 
 And mean to fight it out. 
 
 Our dead and loved are crying 
 
 Trom many a stormed redoubt, 
 In swamps and trenches lying, 
 
 "Oh! comrades, fight it out. 
 'Twas our comfort as we fell 
 
Immortelles. 205 
 
 To hear your gathering shout, 
 Rolling back the Yankee yell, 
 God speed you, fight it out." 
 
 The negro, free or slave, 
 
 We care no pin about, 
 But for the flag we gave, 
 
 We mean to fight it out. 
 And while that banner brave, 
 
 One Yankee flag shall flout, 
 With rallying arm and flashing glare, 
 
 By Heaven, let's fight it out. 
 
 Oh, we've heard the Yankees yell, 
 
 We have heard the Rebels shout, 
 We have weighed the matter well, 
 
 And mean to fight it out. 
 In the flash of perfect triumph, 
 
 And the gloom of utter rout, 
 We have sworn on many a bloody field, 
 
 We mean to fight it out. 
 
 Mrs. YVinfield Scott's Kindness. 
 
 Dr. John F. Kennedy was surgeon of the Four- 
 teenth Mississippi Regiment of the Confederacy. 
 He was captured at Fort Pillow, and sent to 
 Camp Chase, Chicago. On reaching Chicago, he 
 was met by a messenger, who, he afterward 
 learned, was sent by Mrs. Greneral Scott, and 
 was conducted to one of the best hotels in 
 the city. The next morning at the breakfast 
 
206 Immortelles. 
 
 table lie found under his plate three hundred 
 dollars, all in gold, with a note in a lady's hand- 
 writing telling him to live well, as he should 
 have all the money he wished. The note was 
 signed " Rebel Sympathizers." He was placed 
 on duty in the hospital in which sick Confeder- 
 ates were confined. He soon formed the ac- 
 quaintance of a noble chivalric soldier, Col. W. 
 S. Hawkins, Colonel of a Tennessee regiment, 
 who had been installed as a nurse in the same 
 hospital. Colonel Hawkins was nursing a fellow 
 prisoner who was engaged to be married to a 
 most beautiful young lady. She proved faith- 
 less, and her letter came breaking the troth soon 
 after the prisoner died. Colonel Hawkins sent 
 the following reply: 
 
 Your letter came, but came too late, 
 
 For Heaven had claimed its own. 
 Ah ! sudden change from prison bars 
 
 Unto the great white throne. 
 And yet I think he would have stayed 
 
 For one more day of pain, 
 Could he have read those tardy words 
 
 Which vou have sent in vain. 
 
 Wilson Ckeek. 
 
 Col. C. P. Hyde, of Virginia, in reference to the 
 famous battle of Wilson Creek, the first great 
 battle of the Trans-Mississippi department : "I, 
 
Immortelles. 207 
 
 too, was there in Colonel Clarkson's regiment, 
 Colonel Weightman's brigade, Gen. James S. 
 Rains, Second Division, M. S. G.. at which 
 place the beloved Weightman was killed. Cap- 
 tain Bledsoe belonged to our division, and clear 
 and high above the din of musketry could be 
 heard ' Old Sacramento ' dealing death to the 
 enemy while our infantry made charge after 
 charge over a bald prairie knob, only to be cut 
 down by the enemy that was concealed in 
 a depression among the post-oak runners 
 in front of us. Captain Bledsoe's three gun 
 battery was stationed upon an eminence in 
 our rear and fired over our heads. Here in 
 front of us the lamented General Lyon fell, with 
 his famous gray horse. There is a mystery sur- 
 rounding this memorable battle. It will be 
 remembered that the Missouri State troops, 
 under General Price, from Southwest Missouri, 
 and the Confederate forces from Texas and 
 Arkansas — from Northern Arkansas under Gen- 
 eral Ben McCullough — were united before the 
 Wilson's Creek battle, and it was said there was 
 some contention between the two generals as to 
 who should take command. Be that as it may, 
 General McCullough assumed command and is- 
 sued orders to the army to be in readiness to march 
 at 9 p. m. August 9, as we supposed, to invest 
 Springfield, about ten miles distant, at which 
 
208 Immortelles. 
 
 place General Lyon was camped with the Federal 
 army. We did not march as ordered. Why 
 not I History has it that McCullough resolved 
 to march on to Springfield, but postponed the 
 attack on account of a storm. The facts are 
 there was no rain and no storm, but it was 
 cloudy and dark. We lay on our arms, as it 
 were, all night, without further orders. At day- 
 break, while some of us were asleep, others up, 
 with camp fires, warming cold grub, we were 
 surprised by one of our command, who came in, 
 breathless, with the news that the Feds were just 
 over the hill. We supposed him mistaken and 
 were teasing him about getting scared, but before 
 the laugh was over we were attacked in front 
 and rear almost simultaneously, and not a com- 
 pany in line. Then for five long hours that sea 
 of humanity was lashed with fury. At one time, 
 when one mad billow seemed ready to engulf the 
 frail bark in front, it would be rolled back by 
 the fury of the storm, and thus the ebb and flow 
 of that human sea continued, until the fury of 
 the storm had spent its force. General Lyon had 
 fallen, General Sigel routed and his command 
 demoralized. The retreat of the Federal forces 
 left the Confederates master of the field. After 
 the fury of this sanguinary conflict had subsided, 
 the spectacle was heart-rending. Hundreds of 
 both sides lay pale in death, while hunereds lay 
 
Immortelles. 209 
 
 writing in pain, weltering in gore, under a mid- 
 day August sun. I have been in many hard- 
 fought battles — Lexington, Mo., Praire Grove, 
 Elkhorn Tavern, Jenkins' Ferry, etc., but never 
 saw such heroism displayed as on that day. I 
 was senior Captain nearly three years in 
 Mitchell's fthe Eighth Missouri) infantry — 
 Frost's old brigade — and was in all the impor- 
 tant engagements of the Mississippi, but have 
 never seen Oak Hill or Wilson Creek battles 
 equaled in ferocity and heroism. 
 
 [The above account of the battle of u Oak 
 Hill" (Wilson Creek) calls to mind a little in- 
 cident of an officer who did brave fighing during 
 the battle — Col. J* E. Cravens (Arkansas regi- 
 ment). He was surprised while at his break- 
 fast; sprang to his saddle, declaring he did not 
 piefer his coffee, as it had been sweetened a little 
 too much to his taste with grapeshot.] 
 
 An old darkey tells the story of the battle: " I 
 was dar, and me and some more white gemmen 
 soldiers retreated till we got bout ten mile from 
 de enimy, and den we drawed up a line of battle 
 and swore we wan't gwine to retreat any furder. " 
 
 t.— 14 
 
210 Immortelles. 
 
 GrENERAL LEE AND TRAVELER. 
 Rev. Robt. Tuttle, Cisco, Texas. 
 
 The occasion of the following lines was a mem- 
 orable picture of the battle of Spottsylvania 
 Court House, Virginia, May 12, 1864. At one 
 time during the engagement, General Lee stood 
 by the head of " Traveler," his favorite horse. 
 The position was one of danger, being right on 
 the crest of the hill, not far from a one-story 
 building, and near the outer edge of a small 
 grove of trees. The writer was an eye-witness, 
 and was deeply impressed with the General's 
 splendid attitude : 
 
 Behold the horse ! A dappled gray! 
 
 I saw him in the month of May 
 
 When wild flowers bloomed about his feet 
 
 And sunshine was his mantle meet. 
 
 The shapely head he held up high 
 And fire seemed flashing from his eye ; 
 Arched grandly, too, his neck and mane 
 And on them fell the slackened rein. 
 
 Down from the withers to the tail 
 
 The curve was perfect in detail; 
 
 While depth of chest, and haunch and side 
 
 Showed where his strength did most reside. 
 
 With limb and hoof and pasturn small 
 The body round and plump withal, 
 No pattern could be perfecter 
 Than was the form of " Traveler-" 
 
Immortelles. 211 
 
 Rare model for an artist's skill, 
 
 For brush or chisel, or for quill, 
 
 For there with muscles strained and tense 
 
 His mould was sheer magnificence. 
 
 Bucephalus was not more gay 
 In ancient battle's stern array 
 Than was that grand Virginia gray 
 That mutely champed his bits that day. 
 
 A day of battle truly, then! 
 A day of death to many men ! 
 For war a gory drama played, 
 But u Traveler " was undismayed. 
 
 Dismounted and quite near his head 
 The right hand to the halter wed, 
 His rider stood, bold leader he! 
 The great, the gallant, Robert Lee. 
 
 Broad-shouldered, tall, stout and straight, 
 The left hand down— his look sedate ; 
 He wore a cap and suit of gray, 
 And gazed, but nothing had to say. 
 
 What courtiness in him was seen! 
 Aye, what nobility of mem ! 
 As there Horatius-like he stood, 
 The honored, wise and great and good. 
 
 Great chieftains had preceded him 
 With cups of glory to the brim, 
 But he among them all was Prince, 
 Unrivaled in the past, or since. 
 
 The battle raged around him near; 
 The clash of arms he saw— could hear. 
 But dauntless he stood out to view, 
 Though deadly missiles round him flew. 
 
212 Immortelles. 
 
 Brave chief and charger, such were they. 
 And Dixie's hue of martial gray, 
 And such they will in memory be 
 While time and sense remains to me. 
 
 Immortal Spottsylvania ! 
 'Twas on that sacred hill of thine 
 'Mid shouts of victory and huzzah 
 We saw this picture from the line. 
 
 Ye artists paint the signal scene, 
 Or fashion it in bronze, or stone, 
 That generations yet unseen, 
 In all Southland's sunny zone — 
 
 May look upon Lee's noble form 
 
 As there he stood amid the storm, 
 
 And did our Dixie boys command 
 
 Who fought for rights and home and land. 
 
 The Sword of Harry Lee. 
 By James D. McCabe. 
 
 An aged man, all bowed with years, 
 
 Sits by his hearthstone old. 
 Beside him sits in reverend awe 
 
 A youth all proud and bold. 
 He listens with rapt eagerness 
 
 The old man's every word. 
 One aged hand rests on his knee, 
 
 The other grasps a sword. 
 
 "My son," the gray-haired patriot said, 
 "A precious legacy 
 I give into your keeping now, 
 
Immortelles. 213 
 
 The sword of Harry Lee. 
 I wore it through the fatal storm 
 That darkened o'er our sky, 
 When brave men died for liberty 
 
 To stand or nobly die ! 
 
 "We prized our holy liberty, 
 
 We hated tyranny; 
 We vowed we'd die as brave men die 
 
 If we could not be free; 
 We swore eternal vengeance on 
 
 Our foes from o'er the sea. 
 And night and day we bravely rode 
 
 With 'Light Horse Harry Lee.' 
 
 "Ah! how we loved our noble chief! 
 
 A hero grand was he. 
 No craven thought e'er filled the heart 
 
 Of noble Harry Lee. 
 And where the fight was thickest, boy, 
 
 We'd see his bright sword flash, 
 And the heavens would ring with his shout, 
 
 As on the foe he'd dash! 
 
 "One day, it all comes back again, 
 
 Though I am old and gray. 
 The battle had raged long and fierce, 
 
 For we could not give way. 
 Our noble leader gave the word, 
 
 And on the foe we flew, 
 Resolved to drive from off the field 
 
 The base-born hireling crew. 
 
 "Our chieftain, at the legion's head, 
 
 Rode on exultingly, 
 When a redcoat vile his musket raised 
 
 To murder Harry Lee. 
 I dashed before the hero bold 
 
214 Immortelles. 
 
 Right in the deadly strife 
 And clove the base dog to the earth 
 And saved brave Harry's life. 
 
 "And when the fearful night was o'er 
 
 The major for me sent, 
 And I was led by Captain Carnes, 
 
 That night into his tent. 
 He grasped my hand quite heartily. 
 
 The flush was on his cheek, 
 And tears stood in his manly eyes — 
 
 His voice was hoarse and weak. 
 
 "He thanked me for all I had done — 
 
 I know his every word — 
 And then he took from round my waist 
 
 My tried and trusty sword. 
 He said that I must give it him, 
 
 For it had ne'er been raised 
 Save in the cause of liberty — 
 
 With joy I was nigh crazed. 
 
 "He gave me his own trusty blade, 
 
 That oft had led the free, 
 And told me I must wear it for 
 
 The sake of Harry Lee. 
 Ah, boy, that was a happy night, 
 
 For proud he might be, 
 Who e'er deserved such heartfelt praise 
 
 From gallant Harry Lee. 
 
 "I wore this blade all through the War, 
 
 And when the storm was o'er, 
 I kept it bright and free from rust, 
 
 As in the days of yore. 
 And when the clouds came down again 
 
 Upon our skies so bright, 
 I buckled on this blade again 
 
 And wore it through the fight. 
 
Immortelles. 215 
 
 "And when the soft, sweet southern breeze, 
 
 From tropic regions far, 
 Came laden with the clang of arms 
 
 And thrilling notes of war, 
 I took the old sword from its place, 
 
 With tears of honest pride, 
 And buckled it all fiercely by 
 
 Your gallant father's side. 
 
 "He bore it manfully and well, 
 
 In regions far away ; 
 It flashed o'er Palo Alto's plains 
 
 And sunny Monterey; 
 It never was laid down in shame, 
 
 God grant I ne'er may see 
 One base, foul blot upon the sword 
 
 Of dear old Harry Lee! 
 
 "Now, boy, I draw this sword again — 
 
 Alas! that it must be, 
 That I must count as foes the sons 
 
 Of those viio fought with me! 
 My limbs are old and feeble now, 
 
 And silvery is my hair, 
 I cannot wield this sword and so 
 
 I give it to your care. 
 
 "To-day I saw your noble chief, 
 
 And ah! I seemed to see, 
 Erect again, before me stand 
 
 The form of Harry Lee; 
 That same bright eye, that noble form, 
 
 That bearing light and free ; 
 Ah, yes/ he's like his noble sire, 
 
 This son of Harry Lee. 
 
 "I'm thankful, boy, he'll lead you on 
 To the wild battle-field, 
 
216 Immortelles. 
 
 And never will he yield; 
 Stand by your General to the last, 
 
 Obey his every word, 
 And yield your life before you dare 
 
 To yield his father's sword! 
 
 "Now go and do your duty, boy, 
 
 You bear no craven's nanie, 
 And as you dread your grandsire's curse, 
 
 Ne'er sully it with shame; 
 And I, as long as life shall last 
 
 Within this bosom free, 
 Will ask God's blessings on you, and 
 
 The son of Harrv Lee." 
 
 Fkom Captain Ridley's Journal. 
 
 Apeil 17-22. — I learn from a staff officer of 
 General Johnston that orders have been issued 
 to divide with the army all the silver coin in 
 possession of Johnston's paymaster — $54,000. 
 This will give each man $1.80 apiece, a small 
 sum for four years' trials and hardships, los of 
 treasures, blood and life. Just here, by way of 
 parenthesis, I got for my share $1.15 — four 
 quarters, one dime and a five-cent piece. I gave 
 my faithful boy, Hannibal, the dime and five 
 cents, and brought my four quarters home and 
 had them fixed to hand down to posterity as 
 a kind of heirloom. I got a jeweler to send 
 
Immortelles. 217 
 
 them to New York and have engraved on them 
 my rank, when, where and to whom I surren- 
 dered, and the basis of negotiations between 
 Johnston and Sherman. The engraving cost 
 me $30.00. I gave them to a kinswoman to 
 keep for me. One day she wrote me in great 
 distress that a servant had stolen her purse, and 
 in it were the four quarters, the last I ever heard 
 of them. Oh, what would I give to find those 
 four silver coins. 
 
 HlSTOKY OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 By Percy Greg, an Englishman. 
 
 If Parliament had unjustly taxed the Ameri- 
 cans, Congress by a northern majority had done 
 the same to South Carolina. The South had 
 been taxed from first to last for the exclusive 
 benefit of the North. It was a grand and 
 special grievance that the king had threatened 
 to raise the slaves against their masters. The 
 North had gone very far in that direction before 
 war began, and in war went further than 
 Greorge III. If the colonies were entitled to 
 judge their own cause, much more were the 
 Southern States. Their rights, expressly de- 
 fined and solemnly guaranteed by law, had 
 been flagrantly violated; the compact which 
 alone bound them had beyond question been 
 
218 Immortelles. 
 
 systematically broken for more than forty years 
 by the States which now appealed to it." The 
 author quotes the memorable farewell speech of 
 Jefferson Davis in the United States Senate as 
 showing "the temper in which the Southern 
 people dissolved the bonds of union, and pre- 
 pared to stand alone in the midst of an unsym- 
 pathetic and censorious world ; to protect their 
 own interests, and, if need.be, to defend their 
 homes and families, their property and their 
 rights, the honor and independence of their 
 States to the last against five-fold greater than 
 theirs," and "no nation," he adds, "ever 
 challenged a dubious cause — appealed to the god 
 of battles to make right compensate might, and 
 courage prevail over numbers and resources, 
 but with a clear consience. Assuredly none 
 ever fought to the last, after hope had van- 
 ished, and when all was lost but honor, unless 
 convinced in its inmost soul that divine justice 
 if not divine providence was on its side. To 
 say that the South seceded and fought for 
 slavery is," Mr. Greg argues, "to accuse her 
 of political imbecility," and to reply to the oft 
 made allegation "that the desire to develop as 
 well as preserve slavery was the very mainspring 
 of secession," he points to the fact that the 
 Constitution of the Confederate States abso- 
 lutely and unconditionally prohibited the slave 
 
Immortelles. 219 
 
 trade, as showing that the accusation is not 
 only false, but the exact reverse of the truth. 
 He pays frequent tribute to the courage of the 
 Confederate soldier. Englishman though he 
 be, of the charge of Pickett's division at Get- 
 tysburg he says; " The charge of the Light 
 Brigade was less desperate and its trial far less 
 prolonged. The bravest among the victors of 
 Inkerman, of Albuera, of Worth and Grave- 
 lotte, might envy the glory of Pickett's defeat.' 7 
 
 Pelham at Fredricksburg. 
 At the battle of Fredricksburg, December, 
 1862, Major John Pelham, Chief of Stuart's 
 Artillery, and then only eighteen years old, with 
 one Parrot gun delayed the Federal advance for 
 an hour, to give time for necessary manceuvers, 
 fighting his gun in the face of the concentrated 
 fire from the entire Federal artillery, as well as 
 the musketry fire from their assaulting column. 
 His gunners in this memorable action were Mis- 
 sissippi Frenchmen, and above the frightful din 
 of battle could be heard the strains of their 
 hymn, " The Marsellaise," ;sung by them as 
 they worked their piece. Pelham 's conduct on 
 this occasion won the loftiest praise man has 
 ever earned. Lee watching him, said, " It is 
 glorious to see such courage in one so young." 
 Such words from such a man ! 
 
220 Immortelles. 
 
 Into the hurtling storm of shell. 
 Into the gaping mouth of hell, 
 
 Pelham, the dauntless, lashed — 
 Out from the meager line of gray, 
 Out to the blooc^ fringe of fray, 
 
 Where thousand thunders crashed. 
 
 Lashes to straining horses plied, 
 Cheers of defiance as they ride 
 
 Under the eyes of Lee 
 Out of the day and into night, 
 Clouded in smoke they ride to fight — 
 
 Glorious sight to see! 
 
 Out of that bedlam Freedom speaks ; 
 Hear it in Pelham's Parrot's shrieks, 
 
 Pelham, 'tis bravely done! 
 In the concentring deadly hail, 
 Daring to die but not to fail 
 
 Pelham still fights his gun! 
 
 What is that sound? 'Tis not a cheer- 
 There, yet again — list! Comrades hear! 
 
 Hark, 'tis the hymn of France ! 
 Rising the lofty anthem swells, 
 Over the din of countless hells 
 
 Freedom defiance chants! 
 
 NeAer was witnessed braver deed, 
 Bringing of praise its richest meed, 
 
 Making a deathless name — 
 " Courage sublime in one so young!" 
 Words from the heart of Lee he wrung, 
 
 Crown of immortal fame ! 
 
 —A. Sidney Morton. 
 St. Paul, Minn. 
 
Immortelles. 221 
 
 A star from the battle flag of the Twelfth 
 Mississippi Regiment, A. N. Va., has been 
 framed, and is treasured the more because of the 
 following lines written by Capt. Fred. J. V. 
 LeCand, the last adjutant of that regiment: 
 
 Only a piece of bunting; soiled by the weather and torn, 
 Dirty, a term most contemptuous!— tattered and gone to 
 decay: 
 Valueless save to the worthy who followed where it was 
 borne ; 
 No charm to present to the many; alas! it has served its 
 day. 
 
 Its day was a time when heroes fought 
 Amid flashing of cannon, when the air was fraught 
 With the groans of the dying and cries of pain 
 Of thousands of soldiers who lay 'mong the slain. 
 
 Only a star, dim and fallen; a star fast fading from sight; 
 One of a fair constellation — lost in the darkness of night; 
 A star which forever has set, but whose history ever will 
 
 tell 
 Of the deeds of the " boys in gray," who under its shadow 
 
 fell. 
 
 My Little Volunteer. 
 By Joe Brentwood. 
 
 Say, have you seen my Harry, my little volunteer? 
 As fine a lad as ever lived upon the Tennessee; 
 
 His voice so rich and cheery, his eye so bright and clear- 
 Why has my darling ne'er come back to me? 
 
222 Immortelles. 
 
 He went to strike for freedom — to defend his State and 
 home — 
 
 When but sixteen at birth of May. 
 None looked so gay and bold, in garb of gray and gold ; 
 
 But I never saw him after they marched away. 
 
 The whippoorwill is calling to her mate upon the hill, 
 
 As they did the night he went away; 
 And my heart is just as lonely, and the sorrow rankles 
 still, 
 When I sit alone and listen to the mournful, heartsick 
 lay. 
 
 Oh, I reach my arms in yearning as I gaze towards the 
 town, 
 For he said he'd soon return to me; 
 But my heart is broke with longing— he is so long in 
 coming 
 To the dear ones waiting here upon the Tennessee. 
 
 Near Allatoona, Gra., near what is known as 
 the Allatoona Pass, is a lone grave of an unknown 
 soldier, which is of considerable interest to 
 people along the Western and Atlantic Railroad, 
 through that region of battlefield, and which is 
 protected and cared for as sacred by the train 
 men whenever their duty brings them in that 
 vicinity. As you approach the northwestern 
 end of the Pass, immediately on the west side 
 of the track may be found this solitary grave. 
 
Immortelles. 223 
 
 At the head of the mound is a marble slab in- 
 scribed thus : 
 
 AN UNKNOWN HERO. 
 
 He Died for the Cause He Thought Was Right. 
 
 Here Rests the Precious Son of One of the Many Mothers 
 
 Whose Darling "Went Forth Never 
 
 to Return." 
 
 But whose son he was, and who watched for his 
 return, only to be doomed to disappointment, is 
 a question that will probably remain untold 
 throughout eternity. Another question that 
 arises in the mind of one who looks upon this 
 lone grave is, Why should he, an unknown per- 
 son, be cared for in this peculiar manner while 
 hundreds of his comrades who fell on the same 
 battlefield were thrown beneath the sod in a 
 speedy manner, with never a stone to mark their 
 resting places? This spot is also rendered his- 
 torical by being the scene upon which the facts 
 concerning and which inspired the famous 
 gospel hymn, "Hold the Fort, for I Am Com- 
 ing" were enacted. 
 
 Reginald Roland. 
 
 GrRAVE OF A GrEORGIA VOLUNTEER. 
 
 In a secluded vale a mile from Stribling sleeps 
 in eternal repose one of that gallant Twelfth 
 Georgia Regiment, commanded by Colonel, 
 
'2*24: Immortelles, 
 
 afterwards that brave Major-General, Edward 
 Johnston. The hand of piety and patriotism 
 neglected to remove the remains, with others of 
 the heroic dead, to Staunton. In an excursion 
 with a large party of ladies and gentlemen, 
 the grave was discovered by "Zarifla" (Mrs. 
 Marry Ashley Townsend, of New Orleans), whose 
 charming, piqnant pen has so often illuminated 
 the sunny Southern hearth with "Thoughts 
 that Breathe." Above this lonely grave her 
 gifted pen, impromptu, sketched these beautiful 
 lines, which will find a thrill in every Southern 
 heart : 
 
 A GrEORGIA VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Far up the lonely mountain side 
 
 My wandering footsteps led, 
 The moss lay thick beneath my feet, 
 
 The pine sighed overhead; 
 The trace of a dismantled fort 
 
 Lay in the forest nave, 
 And in the shadow near my path 
 
 I saw a soldier's grave. 
 
 The bramble wrestled with the weed 
 
 Upon the lonely mound, 
 The simple head-board, rudely writ, 
 
 Had rotted to the ground; 
 I raised it with a reverent hand, 
 
 From dust its words to clear, 
 But time had blotted all but these : 
 
 "A Georgia Volunteer." 
 
Immortelles. 225 
 
 I saw the toad and scaly snake 
 
 From tangled coverts start, 
 And hide themselves amongst the weeds 
 
 Above the dead man's heart; 
 But undisturbed in sleep profound, 
 
 Unheeding, there he lay, 
 His coffin but the mountain soil, 
 
 His shroud Confederate gray. 
 
 T heard the Shenandoah roll 
 
 Along the vale below, 
 I saw the Alleghanies rise 
 
 Towards the realms of snow; 
 The "Valley Campaign" rose to mind, 
 
 Its leader's name — and then 
 I knew the sleeper had been one 
 
 Of Stonewall Jackson's men. 
 
 Yet whence he came, what lip shall say? 
 
 What tongue will ever tell 
 What desolated hearths and hearts 
 
 Have been because he fell? 
 What sad eyed maiden braids her hair— 
 
 Her hair which he held dear, 
 One lock of which perchance lies with 
 
 The "Georgia Volunteer?" 
 
 What mother, with long watching eyes, 
 
 And white lips cold and dumb, 
 Waits with appalling patience for 
 
 Her darling boy to come? 
 Her boy! whose mountain grave swell up 
 
 But one of many a scar 
 Cut on the face of our fair land 
 
 By gory handed war. 
 
 i.— 15 
 
226 immortelles. 
 
 What fights he fought, what wounds he wore, 
 
 And all unknown to fame- 
 Remember, on his lonely grave 
 
 There is not e'en a name; 
 That he fought well and bravely, too, 
 
 And held his country dear, 
 We know, else he had never been 
 
 "A Georgia Volunteer." 
 
 He sleeps; what need to question now 
 
 If he were wrong or right? 
 He knows, ere this, whose cause was just 
 
 In God the Father's sight; 
 He wields no warlike weapons now, 
 
 Returns no foeman's thrust — 
 Who but a coward would revile 
 
 An honest soldier's dust? 
 
 Roll Shenandoah, proudly roll 
 
 Adown thy rocky glen, 
 Above thee lies the grave of one 
 
 Of Stonewall Jackson's men! 
 Beneath the cedar and the pine, 
 
 In solitude austere, 
 Unknown, unnamed, forgotten lies 
 
 "A Georgia Volunteer." 
 
 The Virginia Cadets. 
 
 Battle of New Market, Virginia, in the Shen- 
 nandoah Valley, May 15, 1864, in which 225 
 cadets of the Virginia Military Institute, of 
 Lexington, Virginia, all between sixteen and 
 
Immortelles. 227 
 
 eighteen years old, acting as infantry, fought 
 on the Confederate side, capturing a Federal 
 battery after a gallant charge in which nine of 
 them were killed and forty-six wounded. 
 
 'Tion! dress! shoulder arms! 
 
 Fours right! forward march! 
 That was how they kept us at it, 
 
 Heads up stiff as starch. 
 We were Virginia boys— three hundred, 
 
 In Virginia military school. 
 The war was raging North and South, 
 
 And how could we fiery lads keep cool? 
 
 For we were bred in a battiing time, 
 
 And our's was our father's creed — 
 
 The Old Dominion 
 
 In our opinion 
 
 Was bound for the South to bleed; 
 
 That being so, we'd all agree 
 
 That under the Lord and Robert Lee 
 
 The South was sure to succeed. 
 
 So every day it was " Shoulder arms!" 
 
 In a still battalion drill, 
 
 And every night there was news of a fight 
 
 With Lee in Richmond still; 
 
 While the men who stood 
 
 With gallant Hood 
 
 Held Tennessee with a royal will. 
 
 I reckon 'twas only good news we got 
 
 For we always gave it a cheer, 
 
 And when our three hundred loosed their lungs 
 
 'Twas something the deaf might hear. 
 
 To double up Grant was just the job, 
 
 We expected of Lee, and called him Bob, 
 
 Our brave old General Lee. 
 
228 Immortelles. 
 
 But it don't need bugles or rattling drums 
 
 To spread it around when bad news conies. 
 
 One day in May it was in the air 
 
 Like a ghost or a mist we felt it rise — 
 
 A droop to the lip 
 
 Of Colonel Ship. 
 
 A mournful flap to the company's flags, 
 
 A husky note to the Chaplain's prayer, 
 
 A cavalry Major dressed in rags 
 
 With gaunt, brown face, and with eager eyes 
 
 Clattering into the institute square. 
 
 ••Virginia calls for her fighting sons." 
 That was all he he said, but its sharp appeal 
 Meant danger at hand from Federal guns — 
 A call to battle, and steel to steel. 
 Dumbly we stood for a moment's space 
 Then each lad lifted up his face, 
 On many a cheek a pitying tear, 
 But out from our hearts there rose a cheer, 
 And the Colonel, raising his hand, said then: 
 
 "I'll bring Virginia three hundred men!" 
 
 In a minute's time we were wild with joy 
 In all our ranks there was not a boy, 
 We had grown to be men at the Colonel's word. 
 The cavalry Major seemed in doubt: 
 "All under sixteen years old fall out!" 
 But never a lad from the company stirred, 
 If they'd wait the step of a single cadet 
 That young battalion would stand there yet. 
 
 Next morning though at the big bell's toll 
 
 We lacked twenty -five at muster roll. 
 
 "They are under the age," the Colonel said: 
 
 "Too young, God knows, for Yankee lead;" 
 
 To bring them to fight, the law forbids." 
 
Immortelles. 229 
 
 The Major said: " So we've caged the kids!" 
 But Lord how they cried with groans and tears 
 To be rated just once at sixteen years; 
 A'int seen the like since the war began, 
 And the smallest of all was the biggest man- 
 How he did beg and struggle and strive!" 
 Then we two hundred and seventy -five 
 Sent up a cheer for the little chap ; 
 And the Captain of Company A 
 Saluting the Colonel, touched his cap, 
 And tossing his curly head did say: 
 "We'll fight for three hundred just the same." 
 Our flags here fluttered upon the wind. 
 We'll fight for Virginia, and all the South 
 Through storm and sunshine, fire and flame, 
 Up to the Yankee cannon's mouth. 
 God look to the men we leave behind. 
 'Tion! dress! shoulder a'ms! 
 
 Rang out the loud command, 
 
 And we marched away 
 
 By noon that day 
 
 To fight for the Southern land; 
 
 Two-twenty- five with the infantry 
 
 And the rest with the guns in the battery, 
 
 Down by Shenandoh's grass banks. 
 
 And not a moustache in our marching ranks. 
 
 Next day we fell in with the conscripts rough 
 From the up-land farms with any sort of arms. 
 Day after that with the vet'rans tough 
 'In their joy and their rags, 
 With their tattered flags; 
 
 And how they cheered us and made us proud, 
 As boldly we marched into camp and " allowed " 
 We were "jest sot up as men should be— 
 Fit for to fight under Old Bob Lee." 
 
230 Immortelles. 
 
 " Sigel is coming!" the word was spread, 
 " Pushing for Lynchburg straight ahead." 
 So the batteries limbered, the cavalry clanked; 
 Fires were put out, the infantry ranked, 
 And Breckinridge, grim as an iron man, 
 Rode off with his staff, and our fight began 
 Where the hills to the valleys roll gently down 
 And the pike runs by New Market Town. 
 Woods on the right, and a deep ravine 
 'Cross center and left lay there between 
 The boys in blue and the boys in gray. 
 In their battle rally 
 
 The batteries loudly beginning the fray 
 And a rain-storm driving up the valley. 
 
 The tale of the battle I cannot tell; 
 
 We stood 'till arose on our left the yell 
 
 Of the Southern boys, at the word "Advance!" 
 
 Then forward, too, with our hearts wild beating 
 
 And every throat the yell repeating. 
 
 " Capture the guns beyond the ravine!" 
 
 " Zip! " went the bullets past heedless ears; 
 
 " Chunk!" fell the shell, up rose our cheers, 
 
 Down the ravine with a rush and tumble, 
 
 Up the ravine with a pitch and stumble, 
 
 Out on the plateau. " Halt, form line!" 
 
 " On, double quick!" Crash came shell 
 
 Into our faces fired pell-mell; 
 
 A spurt of blood as the next boy fell; 
 
 Not mine? We were hit but never broke, 
 
 And charged like mad for the cannon smoke 
 
 With red quick flashes leaping from its heart, 
 
 Three hundred yards to the mouths of the guns. 
 
 "Virginia calls for her fighting sons!" 
 
 Here we are coming, as fall three score 
 
 In their blood and their pride ; 
 
 And we rush below 
 
Immortelles. 231 
 
 Like a breaking tide, 
 
 Virginia boys! Virginia's sons! 
 
 And — we take the guns! 
 
 Over the dead see our school flag float, 
 
 But our pride stops top of its mad joy, when 
 
 We hear from our General's rough old throat, 
 
 " Well done, Virginians! Well done, ikfe?i/" 
 
 "I'm Conscripted, Smith, Conscripted.' 1 
 
 I'm conscripted, Smith, conscripted — 
 
 Ebbs the subterfuges past, 
 And the sub -enrolling marshals 
 
 Gather with the evening blast — 
 Let thine arms, oh! Smith support me, 
 
 Hush your gab and close your ear, 
 Conscript-grabbers close upon you, 
 
 Hunting for you far and near. 
 
 Though my scarred rheumatic " trotters " 
 
 Bear me limping short no more ; 
 And my shattered constitution 
 
 Won't exempt me as before ; 
 Though the provost guard surround me, 
 
 Prompt to do their master's will, 
 I must to the front to perish — 
 
 Die the great conscripted still. 
 
 Let not the seizer's servile minions 
 
 Mock the lion thus laid low — 
 'Twas no fancy drink that " slewed " him — 
 
 Whisky straight-out struck the blow. 
 I'm conscripted, Smith conscripted — 
 
 Hark, you hear that grabber's cry; 
 Run, old Smith, my boy, they'll catch you, 
 
 Take you to the front to die. 
 
232 Immortelles. 
 
 Sheridan's Raid in the James River Valley. 
 
 Prof. W. D. Cabell, Norwood Institute, Wash- 
 inton, DC. 
 
 The writer was attempting to burn the bridge 
 across the Tye River, where it empties into the 
 James, to impede Sheridan's progress, but found it 
 necessary to rip up the plank for ten or twenty 
 feet . I threw the flooring into the river when the 
 cavalry of Sheridan appeared in force, pursuing 
 my brother, Robert Stuart Cabell, and Ivanhoe 
 Cabell. To save their lives, I met them on the 
 bridge and turned them back into the lines of 
 the assembled cavalry. My brother had lost a 
 leg by a solid cannon ball at Fredericksburg, 
 and was unable to make his way on foot. They 
 obeyed my command, but, instead of surrender- 
 ing, rode through the lines of the United States 
 troops and made good their escape, after a five- 
 mile race, in open sight, with Spencer rifles 
 leveled and fired incessantly at them. The fol- 
 lowing lines, signed "Virginia," were written 
 by the authoress, Miss M. G. McClelland, whose 
 beautiful home, Elm Cottage, overlooked the 
 scene of the remarkable ride : 
 
 Down through the heart of our beautiful land 
 Swiftly and silently rode a strong band 
 Of Federal cavalry, spreading around 
 
Immortelles. 233 
 
 And behind them the piteous sound 
 Of destruction and burning and miserable pain, 
 Till even the echoes take up the refrain, 
 And all the bright, beautiful valley of James 
 Is blackened and ravaged with fury and flames. 
 
 Onward they come, relentless and strong, 
 
 Remorseless as fate, for to them shall belong 
 
 That crudest, bitterest task in all war— 
 
 The bringing it home to the hearthstone and door, 
 
 The giving of homestead and barn to the torch, 
 
 The anguish of women and children for such 
 
 An end fate decrees shall always attend 
 
 Brother's strife against brother, friend against friend. 
 
 Swiftly and silent, remorseless and strong, 
 The dark blue thunder cloud rolls along, 
 Till the shades of evening begin to fall 
 Gently and calmly upon them all, 
 Victor and vanquished, friend and foe, 
 While the river murmurs in rythmic flow, 
 And the breezes bring from the mystic hill 
 God's own benison — "Peace, be still." 
 
 "Halt!" the order runs down the line. 
 What sound is borne on the sleepy wind? 
 Nearer and nearer, distant and clear, 
 The tramping of horses comes to the ear, 
 And down'a road to the left of their course 
 Quickly there comes a galloping horse, 
 Then another, till, seeing the hostile train, 
 They turn and gallop the way they came. 
 
 Riding for life, while fuller and clearer 
 The sound of pursuit comes nearer and nearer. 
 Onward they dash in their desperate course, 
 Each man's life lies in the strength of his horse. 
 As they madly press on they well represent 
 The poor Southern Cause so broken and spent. 
 
234 Immortelles. 
 
 A boy in his teens, a man war-worn and lame, 
 While fierce on their track a regiment came. 
 
 " Keep near," groaned the man, with lips white and set; 
 " If I just keep the saddle we'll distance them yet. 
 Your hand quick, an instant— I am slipping, you see ; 
 Oh, God! if that shell had but left me my knee 
 I'd still ride with the best. Hark! they gain on us fast. 
 I'd give life for a pistol, to have but one last 
 Good shot at the blue coats, if just to requite 
 For the loss of my leg and this miserable flight. 
 
 " Don't turn your head," the boy eagerly cried; 
 
 " Speak not a word — for your life you must ride; 
 
 Down, flat on your horse, I'll guide him all right! 
 
 Put your arms 'round his neck — quick, the leader 's in 
 
 sight. 
 How you reel in your saddle ; don't try to look 'round. 
 Ho! steady, good horse — my God, he is down! 
 We are in for it now; they have us both fast. 
 
 I said I'd stand by him, and I will to the last." 
 
 As a wild yell of triumph rings out on the air, 
 
 He springs from his horse with the strength of despair, 
 
 Grasps the man in his arms, lifts him on to his steed, 
 
 Leaps back on his own and puts both to its speed, 
 
 But turns in his saddle to give a loud shout 
 
 Of mocking defiance. 'Tis vain to call out 
 
 II Halt, or we fire!" As well to command 
 The outgoing tide to return to the strand. 
 
 " Stop, men," cried the officer; " not a step more! 
 So gallant an action I never before 
 Beheld in a lad of his years. Let them go. 
 To continue pursuit would serve but to show 
 Ourselves to be caitiffs unworthy the name 
 Both of soldiers and men. I could hardly refrain 
 From cheering that brave ' little Reb ' on the spot; 
 We'll return to the main body — forward, then, trot!" 
 
Immortelles.. 235 
 
 'Tis many long years since the demon of war 
 
 Fled from our land. The grass grows o'er 
 
 Our ruins and graves. Still, when memory turns 
 
 To review our dead past, then deeds like this, boys, 
 
 Come to our remembrance and bid us rejoice 
 
 That, tho' ruined and conquered, we're still not undone 
 
 While our noble dead heroes yet live in their sons. 
 
 —Virginia. 
 
 Anniversary of Appomattox. 
 
 Story op the Last Seven Days— Evacuation of Rich- 
 mond and the Retreat of Lee. 
 
 Although what was in reality the final tragedy 
 of the great civil war occurred at Appomattox 
 on the 9th, when Lee's veterans, weary, foot- 
 soie and starving, laid down their arms, the 
 death warrant of the Confederacy was contained 
 in the telegram from General Lee to President 
 Davis, which was handed the latter in St. 
 Paul's Church, in Richmond, on April 2d, 1865. 
 Mrs. Sallie A. Putnam, in her "Richmond Dur- 
 ing the War," vividly describes the evacuation 
 scenes and the feelings of those to whose hearts 
 the Confederate cause was dear. After telling 
 of the incident in St. Paul's Church, when 
 President Davis received the telegram, she 
 writes: "While these scenes were being en- 
 acted on the streets, indoors there was scarcely 
 
236 Immortelles. 
 
 less confusion and excitement. In every bouse 
 terror had penetrated. Ladies were busily en- 
 gaged in collecting and selecting all the val- 
 uables possessed by them, together with cher- 
 ished correspondence, yet they found time and 
 presence of mind to prepare a few comforts for 
 friends forced to depart with the Army of the 
 Government. Few tears, were shed; there was 
 no time for weakness and sentiment. " Equally 
 vivid are Mrs. Putnam's description of the re- 
 lease of the convicts at the penitentiary and the 
 firing of the shops, the progress of the flames 
 in the city, the blowing up of the gunboats, the 
 explosion of the arsenal and magazines, etc. 
 "During the fire the Capitol Square," she says, 
 "presented a novel appearance. On the south- 
 east and west of its lower half it was bounded 
 by burning buildings. The flames burst from 
 the windows, and rising from the roofs were 
 proclaiming in one wild roar their work of de- 
 struction. Myriads of sparks, borne upward by 
 the current of hot air, were brightening and 
 breaking in the dense smoke above. On the 
 sward of the square thousands of wretched crea- 
 tures, who had been driven from their dwellings 
 by the devouring flames, were huddled. But 
 here even it was almost as hot as a furnace. 
 The conflagration was the result of setting fire 
 to the tobacco warehouses and this step was 
 
Immortelles. 237 
 
 taken under a government order. Soon after 
 the capture of Savannah a law was passed by 
 the Confederate Congress requiring military 
 commanders to destroy articles of value rather 
 than allow them to fall into the hands of the 
 enemy. The dreadful tidings spread with the 
 swiftness of electricity from lip to lip; from 
 men, women and children the news was ban- 
 died, but many received it at first as only a 
 ' Sunday sensation rumor.' Friend looked 
 into the face of friend to meet only an expres- 
 sion of incredulity, but later in the day as the 
 truth, stark and appalling, confronted us, the 
 answering look was that of stony, calm despair. 
 Late in the afternoon the signal of the evacua- 
 tion became obvious even to the most incred- 
 ulous. Wagons were driven furiously through 
 the streets to the departments, where they re- 
 ceived as freight the archives of the government 
 and carried them to the Danville depot to be 
 conveyed away by the railroad. Night came 
 on, but with it no sleep for human eyes in Rich- 
 mond. Confusion worse confounded reigned 
 and grim terror spread in wild contagion. The 
 city council met and ordered the destruction of 
 all spirituous liquors, fearing in the excitement 
 there would be temptation to drink. In the 
 gutters ran a stream of whisky, and its fumes 
 impregnated the air. After nightfall Richmond 
 
238 Immortelles. 
 
 was ruled by a mob. In the principal section 
 of the city they surged in one black mass from 
 store to store, robbing them." Following the 
 evacuation of Richmond the events leading to 
 the surrender are quickly told, and in their tell- 
 ing the same grand spirit that has made the 
 Confederate soldier stand in history as une- 
 qualecl for indomitable courage, devotion to 
 cause and superior prowess in arms, is shown to 
 have never deserted Lee's army, even to the 
 last moment, when the terms of surrender had 
 been fixed and orders to lay down their arms 
 had been given. Though it must have been 
 apparent to officer and private alike that the 
 cause was lost and further conflict would prove 
 futile, so far as perpetuating the Confederacy 
 was concerned, yet every man seemed to know 
 that each succeeding stand against the Federals 
 would increase or diminish the glory that would 
 be given to the Southern soldier in history. So, 
 apparently actuated solely by a desire and de- 
 termination to emphasize their greatness as 
 soldiers, and make history in which the South- 
 ern posterity could eternally take pride, these 
 starving troops, the fragments of Lee's splendid 
 army that marched to G-ettysburg, in each suc- 
 ceeding conflict during the seven days from 
 Petersburg to Appomattax battled with the same 
 esprit du corps that had given them victory 
 
Immortelles. 139 
 
 almost without exception when numbers were 
 equal, and so often when the opposing forces 
 were overwhelmingly in the majority. Five 
 days passed without provisions being issued to 
 the army. The end of the war was so apparent 
 that every man in the ranks could note its ap- 
 proach, and it would be natural that an indiffer- 
 ence and disorder would have marked the field 
 work of the veterans in the closing days, but 
 not so. Courage each time mounted with occa- 
 sion, and Fitz Lee's cavalry met Sheridan's 
 forces on the morning of April 9 and drove 
 them before them, capturing two pieces of 
 artillery, and manifesting the same military 
 spirit that was shown by the Southern soldiers 
 at Manassas, Antietam and Gettysburg. This 
 declares them never to have been surpassed in 
 devotion to cause, military discipline, response 
 to command and determination to win battles. 
 On April 6th the rear guard was attacked by 
 a large force of the enemy, and Generals Gr. W. 
 C. Lee, Ewell and Anderson and many others 
 were captured. G-eneral Rosser of the cavalry 
 captured a body of 800 of the enemy, who had 
 been sent by Grant under G-eneral Read to de- 
 stroy the bridge at Farmville to impede Lee's 
 march. On April the 7th Farmville was 
 reached, and here for the first time since leaving 
 Petersburg, April 2d, provisions were issued to 
 
240 Immortelles. 
 
 the army. The enemy still pursuing:, the 
 quartermasters began to burn their wagons, and 
 whatever they contained was destroyed. The 
 enemy followed closely, crossed the railroad 
 bridge, brought Lee to bay, attacked and were 
 repulsed, and the retreat continued. On the 
 evening of the 8th, with his army wearied, di- 
 minished in numbers by men falling by the 
 wayside who had never before abandoned their 
 colors, but were now unable to longer keep up 
 with the retreating column, General Lee decided, 
 after conference with his corps of officers, that 
 he would advance the next day beyond Appo- 
 mattox Courthouse, and if the force reported 
 there should be only Sheridan's cavalry, disperse 
 it and continue the march towards Lynchburg. 
 Gordon, whose corps had formed the rear 
 guard from Petersburg, and who had fought 
 daily for the trains, was now transferred to the 
 front. Next morning; April 9, before daybreak, 
 he, with Fitz Lee's cavalry moved forward to 
 the attack. He was confronted by Sheridan's 
 cavalry, and he drove them steadily before him 
 and captured two pieces of artillery. All seemed 
 going well when Sheridan withdrew from the 
 field, and then, like the lifting of a curtain, Gor- 
 don beheld the army of the James advancing 
 through the trees, with ten times his number. 
 At the same time Longstreet, covering the rear, 
 
Immortelles. '241 
 
 being threatened by Meade with a superior force, 
 found it impossible to re-enforce Gordon, who, 
 stained with powder and exhausted by his recent 
 battle, reared his knightly head and said: "Tell 
 General Lee my corps is reduced to a frazzle." 
 Then it was that General Lee was forced to a 
 conference with General Grant relative to sur- 
 render, and make the climax, and close the great 
 American civil war drama which the world 
 was watching. A flag of truce was accord- 
 ingly raised to suspend hostilities pending the 
 interview. An eye-witness thus describes Gen- 
 eral Lee's appearance when he rode off to see 
 General Grant: "He was in full uniform, with 
 handsome embroidered belt and dress sword, 
 tall black army hat and buff leather gauntlets. 
 His horse, old Traveler, was finely groomed, and 
 his equipments, bridle, bit, etc., were polished 
 until they shone like silver. He was accompa- 
 nied by Colonel Marshall and Colonel Taylor, of 
 his staff. Then followed the interview and the 
 negotiations which fixed the terms of surrender. 
 When General Lee rose to depart he went out 
 upon the porch, and, after descending the steps, 
 paused a moment and looked sadly out over the 
 valley where his army lay, then mounted. 
 General Grant, who had followed, * * * 
 raised his hat in respectful salutation, as did 
 those who stood on the porch. Upon observing 
 t.— 16 
 
242 Immortelles, 
 
 this courtesy, General Lee, removing his hat, 
 bowed low upon his horse's neck and rode away. 
 Colonel William Miller Owens, in "In Camp 
 and Battle," says: "As soon as he was seen 
 riding toward his army, whole lines of men 
 rushed down toward the roadside and crowded 
 around him to shake his hand. All tried to 
 show him the veneration and esteem in 
 which they held him. Filled with emo- 
 tion, he essayed to speak, but could only 
 say: 'Men, we have fought through the 
 war together. I have done the best I could 
 for you. My heart is too full to say more.' We 
 all knew the pathos of those simple words, of 
 that slight tremble in his voice, and it was no 
 shame on our manhood that ' something on a 
 soldier's cheek washed off the stain of powder;' 
 that our tears answered to those of our grand 
 old chieftain, and that we could only grasp the 
 hand of ' Uncle Robert ' and pray ' God help 
 you, General."' So was the surrender of Lee 
 brought on. The other armies followed his 
 action soon, and the Southern soldiers turned 
 for the first time their backs to the enemy and 
 started to their desolated homes, to resume civic 
 life and repair the wide-spread damage that war 
 had wrought. The South to-day is the evidence 
 of how splendidly the Confederate soldiers have 
 labored in her rebuilding. 
 
Immortelles. 243 
 
 Lee at Appomattox. 
 
 By J. A. Booty, Los Angeles, Cal. 
 
 The last gun was fired, the last roll was called, 
 Half starved, half naked, grim, gaunt, unappalled, 
 Stained with blood and powder the old army stood— 
 " I have done, my brave soldiers, all things for your good." 
 
 Thus spake their great leader, deep grief on his face, 
 While a halo of glory illumined the place. 
 Some trailed their muskets, some sheathed their swords, 
 They had smiled at Grant's cannon, they wept at Lee's 
 words. 
 
 And Grant was as courteous as the grand knights of old; 
 No glad shouts were uttered, no loud drums were rolled, 
 And the victors saluted those gaunt men in gray. 
 And the fire-winged tempest died slowly away. 
 
 No need have we for Northern foe, 
 Living or dead, above, below, 
 We honor those who wore the gray 
 And weave for them our last bouquet. 
 
 We war's arbitrament accept, 
 And foeman leave in peace to rest, 
 
 But when their graves are decked and wept 
 The North shall do it, and Northwest. 
 
 Had I but one, or, even grant, 
 I had ten thousand flowers to plant, 
 
 I'd put them all on Dixie's graves, 
 
 My comrades, and our Southern braves. 
 
244 Immortelles. 
 
 G-eneeal Lee's Ovation. 
 
 "Gtenekal Robeet E. Lee once told me of an 
 ovation he received that touched him more ihan 
 any ovation made in his honor," said the ven- 
 erable Judge White, of Virginia, to a Post man 
 at the National. "Following closely on the 
 surrender of the Southern army, the com- 
 mander-in-chief of the Confederacy went to pass 
 a season at the home of his particular friend, E. 
 R. Cocke. After a few weeks of the most hos- 
 pitable and elegant entertainment, General Lee 
 was called to the presidency of the Washing- 
 ton and Lee University. Bidding his kind 
 friends adieu, he started for Lexington on horse- 
 back and alone. He had gone some miles and 
 was passing through a rather dreary stretch of 
 country, when he espied a plain old countryman 
 mounted on a sorry nag coming toward him. 
 As they passed each other both bowed, as is the 
 fashion when strangers meet in out-of-the-way 
 places; but the old farmer in the homespun suit 
 stared hard at the soldierly figure, as through not 
 quite certain of recognition. He went his way 
 a little further, then turning his horse around, 
 cantered back and soon came up with the general 
 again. "I beg pardon, sir; but is not this 
 General Robert Lee V 7 u Yes ; I am General 
 Lee. Did I ever meet you before, my friend V 
 Then the old Confederate grasped the chieftain's 
 
Immortelles. 245 
 
 hand, and, with tears streaming down his face, 
 said: "General Lee, do yon mind if I cheer 
 yon? " The general assured him that he did not 
 mind, and there on that lonesome pine-bordered 
 highway, with no one else in sight, the old rebel 
 veteran, with swinging hat, lifted up his Voice in 
 three ringing rounds of hurrahs for the man 
 that the Southland idolized. 
 
 A pleasant party were on an excursion on 
 the Potomac, when a singer rendered " Jesus, 
 Lover of My Soul," to the comfort of every 
 auditor. After the singing he was interrogated 
 by a fellow passenger who referred to the pecul- 
 iar intonation of his voice. When it became 
 the satisfactory conclusion of both parties that 
 the singer gave that same song when a sentinel 
 in the war, the gentleman said to him, 
 "That song saved your life. I heard you sing- 
 ing, detected thereby where you were and had 
 my gun well upon you when you began the 
 lines : 
 
 "Cover my defenseless head 
 With the shadow of Thy wing," 
 
 When I took down my gun. I couldn't pull 
 the trigger then." The singer recalled the par- 
 ticular occasion, that he was much depressed 
 
246 Immortelles. 
 
 that night and started the song which revived 
 memories of home. 
 
 " 'Tisthe soldier's life 
 
 To have his balmy slumbers waked with strife.' 
 
 Ouk Battle Flag. 
 
 By H. L. Blanchard, Pensacola, Fla. 
 
 Furl that flag— furl it gently, 
 Touch sacredly its tattered shred; 
 
 Blackened and riddled it speaks silently, 
 Drooping and sad, of our honored dead. 
 
 It speaks of men who fought so valiantly, 
 Now dead and forgotten — heroes unknown, 
 
 Who carried this flag; oh! how bravely, 
 Until death claimed them his own. 
 
 It speaks of the heroes still living 
 
 Who grasped this flag e'er it fell 
 From the clutch of a comrade falling, 
 
 Bleeding and dying from the enemy's shell. 
 
 It speaks of a moment when all seemed lost— 
 From our ranks an unforgotten shout arose; 
 
 With maddened rush at any cost 
 We wrenched our flag from the hand of foes. 
 
 It speaks of combats desperately fought 
 From the dawn of the day till the fall of night, 
 
 When in darkness with solemn thought 
 We prayed for souls that had taken flight. 
 
Immortelles. '2Yi 
 
 It speaks of that pure and unequaled fame, 
 And our hearts grow sad and proudest then 
 
 As it utters that loved and cherished name 
 Of heroines true — our Southern women. 
 
 It speaks of that awful and bitter day 
 Our hearts bowed down — broken assunder. 
 
 Unconquered we stood, standing at bay, 
 When suddenly came the word, " Surrender!" 
 
 For then did Lee, our grand old Chieftain, 
 
 Loving us well — he knew 'twas best 
 To bow to the will of God, not man — 
 
 Our struggle was o'er — history tells the rest. 
 
 Furl it, brave comrade — furl it with care, 
 
 This dear old flag, for which we bled, 
 That the ravages of time may never wear 
 
 This silent epitaph of a cause that is dead, 
 
 The Coxfedekate Battle Flag. 
 
 Kate Field wrote: u Speaking of General 
 Johnston, I am reminded of the explanation he 
 once gave me of the origin of the Confederate 
 battle flag: 'At the battle of Bull Rim the 
 •• Stars and Bars" proved a failure because they 
 were so much like the Union colors. Indeed, 
 both armies mistook their enemies for friends, 
 and vice versa. After the battle I resolved to 
 discard this flag, and called for each regiment 
 to procure its State colors. This thev were 
 
248 Immortelles. 
 
 unable to do, and I asked the army for new 
 designs. Among those presented one by Gen- 
 eral Beauregard was chosen, and I altered this 
 only in making it square instead of oblong. 
 This flag was afterwards adopted by the Con- 
 federate armies generally. It was a Greek 
 cross of blue, with white stars on the blue 
 bars. This flag, by the way, was designed by 
 Colonel Walton, of Louisiana, and presented to 
 General Beauregard. ' ' 
 
 That Silver Moon Banner. 
 Dr. J. S. Carothers, Shannon, Miss. 
 We repeatedly heard during the war that among 
 the many designs submitted to the War Depart- 
 ment for battle flags, this one, the full-orbed 
 silver moon in a blue field, surrounded by a 
 white border, was designed by Brigadier Gen- 
 eral W. J. Hardee, who organized and com- 
 manded the troops afterwards commanded by 
 Major General S. B. Buckner, and better known 
 at the close of the war as Cleburne's Division, 
 and that it was by him adopted as the ensign 
 of his chivalrous troops, this right being a 
 special grant by the authorities at Richmond for 
 his division only. Cleburne's and Cheatham's 
 
Immortelles. 249 
 
 divisions were the JEng and Cheng, Siamese 
 twins of this Army of Tennessee. I remember 
 the devices used on the retrograde movement 
 in Georgia by the officers in these two com- 
 mands, to control the men and disabuse their 
 minds of the demoralization of a retreat. They 
 would come quietly down the trenches at night, 
 arouse the men and tell them we were going to 
 relieve "Mars Frank's" boys, who had been 
 roughly handled, probably repulsed, and our 
 place would be filled by other troops. General 
 Cheatham's boys were told that they were to go 
 to retake works we had been driven from, etc., 
 and we would not learn the true facts until a 
 new line, or complete swapping of our flanks to 
 checkmate a flank movement, was effected. 
 Doubtless "Mars Frank's" boys, who marched 
 under the cross of St. Andrew, and Pat's boys, 
 under the full silver moon, will recall these 
 ruses. 
 
 The Bugle Call. 
 Colonel John Milledge, of Georgia. 
 
 I love to feel on my bridle -bit 
 The champ of a thorough-bred, 
 
 When the bugle call and ringing hoof 
 Tell of a charge ahead. 
 
250 Immortelles. 
 
 There is no sound, there is no song 
 That stirs a soldier's soul 
 
 Like the bugle call and ringing hoof- 
 In the charge of his brigade. 
 
 Refrain: 
 
 There is no sound, there is no song, 
 That stirs a soldier's soul, 
 Like the bugle call and ringing hoof 
 In the charge of his brigade. 
 
 In squadron front with closed ranks 
 
 Together side by side, 
 With bounding steed and sabre raised 
 
 Straight to the front we ride. 
 There is no fear, there is no doubt, 
 
 But every man responds 
 To the bugle call and the ringing hoof 
 
 In charge of his brigade. 
 
 When the battle's o'er, and the roll is called 
 
 As in the ranks we stand, 
 There's many a horse that finds his place 
 
 Without a guiding hand. 
 His rider 's gone and all alone 
 
 He rushes to respond 
 To the bugle call and the ringing hoof 
 
 In the charge of his brigade. 
 
 There's many a horse and many a man 
 
 Who charging in the fray, 
 Together fight, together fall, 
 
 Together pass away. 
 In years to come the mem'ry of these scenes 
 
 Will still remain 
 Of the bugle call and the ringing hoof 
 
 In charge of our brigade. 
 
Immortelles. 251 
 
 • Memories. 
 
 By Mrs. W. H. Willis. 
 
 Never was step more steady as the " band-box soldiers " 
 
 filed 
 Out from the famed "Camp Jackson," while the gods 
 
 looked down and smiled 
 On troops so fair and graceful in their stainless garb of 
 
 gray; 
 Each man ready — each man panting — for the thickest of 
 
 the fray. 
 
 They were leaving there in Portsmouth, in the city of her 
 
 dead, 
 The first brave Georgia soldier who had bowed his gallant 
 
 head 
 On the soil of old Virginia, pillowed on a spot so fair, 
 Where many a woman's tears had fallen above his golden 
 
 hair. 
 
 He had yielded, ere the battle came, to " power none dare 
 
 defy," 
 And in a stranger land, poor boy, had lain him down to 
 
 die; 
 But he was sweetly sleeping, in a calm, untroubled rest, 
 While fair hands strewed earth's loveliest flowers above 
 
 his quiet breast. 
 
 And his comrades all were hasting to a fierce, baptismal 
 fire — 
 
 Not a laggard in the ranks, from sturdy boy to gray- 
 haired sire; 
 
 Each with a picture in his heart of a dear Southern home — 
 
 O, heaven, guard the homes till these brave wanderers 
 come. 
 
252 Immortelles. 
 
 How they "illustrated Georgia" all along the well-fought 
 
 front, 
 As, 'mid the thickest of the fight, they bore the battle's 
 
 brunt. 
 How proudly waved the Southern Cross where'er their lot 
 
 was cast. 
 Ah, Hill, the "band-box soldiers" are the fighting force at 
 
 last! 
 
 The patrician was the private, high of soul and pure of 
 
 blood, 
 As if in armor clad, lo! how invincible he stood! 
 And on the weary road anon, a soldier without peer, 
 He marched along with bleeding feet and sang a song of 
 
 cheer. 
 
 Many moons had waned and waned, yet they on either 
 side 
 
 Of the classic old Potomac sternly fought and bravely died. 
 
 Grim death had aimed his cruel shaft at many a shining 
 mark, 
 
 And had crossed the Stygian river with his overladen 
 barque. 
 
 Tongue of mortal ne'er can tell it, history can never show 
 
 Half the valor of the Southron as he met his Northern foe. 
 
 While nations gazed, awe -stricken, on the bitter, un- 
 matched fray, 
 
 Marveling the while they looked upon the troops who wore 
 the gray. 
 
 O, grand old uniform of gray, so faded, worn and old, 
 Ye covered many a princely form and many a heart of 
 
 gold. 
 What if they wore the rough old jeans in the dark hour of 
 
 need? 
 "A man's a man for a' that," and these be men indeed. 
 
Immortelles. 253 
 
 On the fatal field, Cold Harbor, there, their gallant leader 
 
 fell, 
 And strong men looked their last upon the form they loved 
 
 so well, 
 While pale lips whispered to sad hearts so full of grief and 
 
 pride, 
 " He had lived long enough, who in his country's cause 
 
 had died." 
 
 Died at his post! O, record meet for such exalted souls! 
 Who shall a fitter tribute as for our beloved Doles? 
 His life was o'er— mysterious fate denied him victory, 
 But blessed him at the last with glorious immortality. 
 
 Let us raise a fair white tablet o'er our honored Chieftain's 
 
 breast 
 That shall tell in living words of him so early crowned and 
 
 blest — 
 Of deathless love and memory, fresh from our hearts 
 
 aglow, 
 And reverent passers-by shaJl say, "Behold! they loved 
 
 him so!" 
 
 There is no love like this— it fills his soldier's heart to-day, 
 Its height and depth be measured not, it fadeth not away; 
 'Twas born upon the battlefield where brave men's souls 
 
 were tried, 
 It burns in every warrior's breast whatever fate betide. 
 
 And sweet shall be his slumber in his own fair sunny clime, 
 For he sleeps in dear old Georgia, where for all the coming 
 
 time 
 His flashing sword is sheathed, and with its warrior is laid 
 
 down, 
 And the laurel wreath is but exchanged for the immortal 
 
254 immortelles. 
 
 GrENEKAL HOOD'S LAST ChAEGE. 
 
 By Mary Hunt Mc Caleb. 
 
 (General Hood left his orphan children to the care and 
 protection of his old Texas brigade.) 
 
 The twilight of death is beginning to fall, 
 Death's shadows are creeping high up on the wall, 
 
 Eternity's waters are plashing 
 So close I can hear the wild waves as they roar 
 And sullenly break on the surf-beaten shore, 
 
 Their silver spray over me dashing. 
 
 The old camp is fading away from my view, 
 I hear the last stroke of life's beating tattoo, 
 
 The sound wears the muffle of sorrow, 
 My campaigns are ended, my battles are o'er, 
 My heroes will follow my lead nevermore, 
 
 No roll call shall break on the morrow. 
 
 But now I am fighting them over again— 
 
 On fields that are gory 'mid heaps of the slain, 
 
 The enemy swiftly are flying. 
 The shrieking of shell and the cannon's deep boom 
 Are thundering still at the gate of the tomb, 
 
 The rattle of grape shot replying. 
 
 But ah! the last enemy conquers to-night, 
 And Death is the victor, and vain is the fight 
 
 When God and his creature have striven ; 
 The struggle is o'er life's colors are furled, 
 Are lost in the dark of the vanishing world, 
 
 The bonds of the spirit are riven. 
 
 But ere I go down neath the conquerer's tread, 
 And lie white and still in the ranks of the dead 
 
 Through silence forever unbroken, 
 To you, my old heroes, my Texas brigade, 
 From the dimness of death, from the cold of its shade, 
 
 One last solemn charge must be spoken. 
 
Immortelles. 255 
 
 My faithful old followers, steady and true, 
 My children are orphans ; I give them to you, 
 
 A trust for your sacredest keeping; 
 By the shades of the heroes who fought by your side, 
 By the few who have lived, the many who died, 
 
 By the brave army silently sleeping, 
 
 By the charges I lead where you followed so true, 
 When the soldiers in gray and the soldiers in blue 
 
 And the blood of the bravest was flowing, 
 Be true to this last and this holiest trust, 
 Though the heart of your leader has crumbled to dust, 
 
 And grasses above him are growing. 
 
 From Hon. Washington G-ardner, of Mich- 
 igan. 
 
 Franklin, from the Confederate standpoint, 
 must ever remain one of the saddest tragedies 
 of the civil war. On the other hand, there were 
 in that battle, possibilities to the Confederate 
 cause that came near being realized, scarcely 
 second to another in the great conflict. Had 
 Hood won — and he came within an ace of it — 
 and reaped the legitimate fruits of his victory, 
 the verdict of history would have been reversed, 
 and William Tecumseh Sherman, who took the 
 flower of his army and with it made an unob- 
 structed march to the sea, leaving but a rem- 
 nant to contend against a foe that had taxed his 
 
2d6 Immortelles. 
 
 everv resource from Chattanooga to Atlanta 7 
 would have been called at the close, as at the be- 
 ginning of the war, "Crazy Sherman." No nidi" 
 vidua! — not even Hood himself — had so much 
 at stake in the fight at Franklin as the hero of 
 " the march to the sea." 
 
 Missing. 
 
 In the cool, sweet hush of a wooded nook, 
 
 Where the May buds sprinkle the green old sward, 
 And the winds and the birds and the limpid brook 
 
 Murmur their dreams with a drowsy sound, 
 Who lies so stilly in the plushy moss, 
 
 With his pale cheek pressed on a breezy pillow, 
 Couched where the light and the shadows cross 
 
 Thro' the nickering fringe of the willow? 
 Who lies, alas! 
 So still, so chill, in the whispering grass? 
 
 A soldier clad in the zouave dress— 
 
 A bright-haired man with his lips apart — 
 One hand thrown up o'er his frank, dead face, 
 
 And the other clutching his pulseless heart, 
 Lies there in the shadow, cool and dim, 
 
 His musket swept by a trailing bough, 
 With a careless grace on his quiet limbs 
 
 And a wound on his manly brow. 
 A wound, alas! 
 Whence the warm blood dripped on the quiet grass. 
 
Immortelles. 257 
 
 The violets peer from their dusky beds, 
 
 With a tearful dew in their great pure eyes ; 
 The lilies quiver their shining heads, 
 
 Their pale lips full of sad surprise, 
 And the lizzard darts through the glistening fern, 
 
 And the squirrel rustles the branches hoary, 
 Strange birds fly out with a cry to bathe 
 
 Their wings in the sun- set glory. 
 While the shadows pass 
 ? er the quiet face, and dewy grass. 
 
 God pity the bride who waits at home 
 
 With her lily cheeks and her violet eyes, 
 Dreaming the sweet old dreams of love, 
 
 While her lover is walking in Paradise. 
 God strengthen her heart as the days go by, 
 
 And the long dreary nights of her vigil follow — 
 No bird, no moon, nor whispering wind 
 
 May breathe the tale of the hollow; 
 Alas! Alas! 
 The secret is safe with the woodland grass. 
 
 The above lines were written after the battle of Seven 
 Pines, suggested by the report of the missing. 
 
 The following beautiful verses on the death 
 of Zollicoffer, were written by Harry Flash, of 
 Mobile, while a voluntary aid of General 
 Hardee : 
 
 First in the fight and first in the arms 
 
 Of vhite- winged angels of glory, 
 With the heart of the South at the feet of God 
 
 And his wounds to tell the story. 
 
 i.— 17 
 
258 Immortelles. 
 
 The blood which flowed from his hero heart 
 On the spot where he nobly perished, 
 
 Was drank by the earth as a sacrament 
 In the holy cause he cherished. 
 
 In heaven a home, with the brave and blest, 
 
 And for his soul's sustaining, 
 The Apocalyptic eyes of Christ 
 
 And nothing on earth remaining 
 
 But a handful of dust in the land of his choice, 
 
 A name in song and story ; 
 And fame to shout with her trumpet voice, 
 
 Died on the field of glory! 
 
 LONGSTKEET ON THE WAR. 
 
 The Government, moved, doubtless, by a desire 
 to protect our soil as much as possible, kept our 
 troops scattered and thus made them inefficient. 
 There was scarcely a time when we had a really 
 grand army at any one point. The policy of 
 the Federals and especially Gen. Grant's policy, 
 was to mass everything available at one point 
 and then drive straight at it. Of course our 
 government disliked to leave any section of the 
 Confederacy at the mercy of the Federals. 
 Therefore our men were scattered over our 
 whole extent of territory. I do not think that 
 our best generals even comprehended the neces- 
 sity of concentrating of forces. They relied too 
 
Immortelles. 259 
 
 much on the valor of their men. They seemed 
 to forget that where good cautious generals 
 commanded on each side numbers must triumph 
 over valor. There was a notable instance of 
 this at Fort Donelson. G-en. Albert Sidney 
 Johnston, one of the loftiest souls that ever 
 lived, had about 45,000 men. Of this force 
 15,000 were at Donelson, 15,000 at Columbus 
 and 15,000 in front of Buell. Grant having a 
 force of about 30,000 men fell upon Donelson 
 and captured it. Had Johnston ever concen- 
 trated his forces at Donelson or in front of 
 Buell he could have crushed either Grant or 
 Buell. As it was, General Grant told me after- 
 wards that he was as badly whipped at Donel- 
 son as the Confederates were if the Confederates 
 had only known it and been able to act upon 
 their knowledge. I am inclined to think that 
 General Joe Johnston was the ablest and most 
 accomplished man that the Confederate armies 
 produced. He never had the opportunity ac- 
 corded to many others, but he showed the 
 wonderful power as a tactician and a com- 
 mander. I do not think we had his equal for 
 handling an army and conducting a campaign. 
 Gen Lee was a great leader — wise, deep and 
 sagacious. His moral influence was something 
 wonderful. But he lost his praise on certain oc- 
 casions. No one who is acquainted with the 
 
260 Immortelles. 
 
 fact could have believed that he would have 
 fought the battle of Gettysburg had he not been 
 under great excitement, or that he would have 
 ordered the sacrifice of Pickett and his Virgin- 
 ians on the day after the battle. He said to me 
 afterward, "Why didn't you stop all that thing 
 that day?' 7 At the Wilderness when our lines 
 had been driven in and I was just getting to the 
 field, G311. Lee put himself at the head of one 
 of my brigades, and leading it into action my 
 men pressed him back, and I said to him that 
 if he would leave my command in my own hands 
 I would re-form his lines. His great soul rose 
 masterful within him when a crisis or disorder 
 threatened. I loved Gen. Lee as a brother 
 while he lived, and T revere his memory. He 
 was a great man, a born leader, a wise general, 
 but I think Johnston was the most accomplished 
 and capable leader that we had. Grant was in- 
 comparably the greatest general on the Northern 
 side. He possessed an individuality that im- 
 pressed itself upon all that he did. 
 
 McClellan was a skillful engineer, but never 
 rose above the average conclusions of his coun- 
 cil. Sherman never fought a great battle, and 
 displayed no extraordinary power. But Grant 
 was great. He understood the terrible power of 
 concentration and persistency. How stubbornly 
 he stuck to Vicksburg and to Richmond. He 
 
Immortelles. 261 
 
 concentrated all his strength, trained his energies 
 to a single purpose, and then delivered terrible 
 sledge-hammer blows, against which strategy, 
 tactics and valor could avail nothing. He knew 
 that majorities if properly handled must triumph 
 in war as in politics, and he always gathered his 
 resources together before striking. 
 
 Gettysburg was the most desjjerate battle of 
 the war. There was never any fighting done 
 anywhere to surpass the battle made by my 
 men on the 2d of July. I led 12,000 men into 
 that charge. Over one-third of this number 
 were killed or wounded. These veterans charged 
 the whole Federal army, intrenched on a crest, 
 harassed on each flank until the line was 
 stretched, and at last I found myself charging 
 50,000 intrenched men in face of a volcano of 
 artillery with a single line of battle. My 
 two divisions encountered and drove back 
 the Third ' Corps, the Fifth Corps, the 
 Sixth Corps, the Second Corps, one of the 
 divisions of the Twelfth and the Pennsylvania 
 Reserves. As they broke line after line they 
 encountered new ones and felt the steady shock 
 of fresh troops. The Federals contend that the 
 bulk of Lee's army was in this charge, and put 
 the strength of the attacking column at 45,000 
 men, when it was only my 12,000 with 2,000 of 
 these knocked out of ranks before they had 
 
262 Immortelles. 
 
 hardly started up the slope. T do not think the 
 records of the war can show anything to ap- 
 proach this work. I agreed with Lee as to 
 necessity of surrender at Appomattox. For 
 some time I had felt we were fighting against 
 hope. I kept my lips closed and fought ahead 
 in silence. For the week preceding the surren- 
 der I fought almost without ceasing. I was 
 covering General Lee's retreat while Gordon 
 opened a way for him in front. I had Fields 
 Division, all that was left. The Federals pressed 
 upon us relentlessly, and we fell back fighting 
 night and day, inch by inch, covering the slow 
 retreat of our wagon trains. Our lines were 
 never once broken or disordered. My men 
 fought with the finest regularity and heroism. 
 Wherever I placed a brigade there it would 
 stand until I ordered it away. I was among my 
 men constantly, so that I knew little of the 
 great situation. Early in the morning General 
 Lee sent for me, and I at once went to him. 
 He was in deep concern. He stated to me that 
 his retreat had been cut off and it was impossi- 
 ble for him to escape from the circle that had 
 been drawn about him. "In that case, Gen- 
 eral," I replied, "you should surrender the 
 army. If escape is impossible, not another life 
 should be sacrificed." General Lee then began 
 to talk about the distress and trouble that a sur- 
 
Immortelles. 2(53 
 
 render would bring* upon the country and his 
 people. "That cannot be put against the use- 
 less shedding of these brave men's blood. The 
 people will know that you have done all that 
 man can do. 7 ' He then told me he had dis- 
 covered there were heavy masses of infantry 
 in front and that he could not hope to cut 
 through. It was a terrible moment for General 
 Lee. Having fought for years with high and 
 lofty purposes, having won victory after victory 
 and made a record for his army not equalled 
 in history, it was hard that he must surrender 
 everything. 
 
 Albert Sidney Johnston. 
 
 Honor to him who only drew 
 
 In Freedom's cause his battle blade 
 And 'round our Southern banners threw 
 
 A halo that can never fade. 
 Honor to him whose name sublime 
 
 Shall be the watchword of the free ; 
 When yet the latest wave of time 
 
 Shall break on far eternity. 
 
 In artless truth, a simple child ; 
 
 In valor, first of God-like men, 
 Who, tho' his countrymen reviled, 
 
 Did ne'er revile again. 
 Like some lone rock, 'gainst which the flow 
 
 Of fickle passions foam and fret. 
 Unmoved, our dear dead captain stood, 
 
 Firm planted in his purpose yet. 
 
264 Immortelles. 
 
 What, though detraction grieved the heart 
 
 That bled but for his country's woe, 
 He recked not, but of his country's part 
 
 To shield her weakness from the foe. 
 He gave his bosom to the storm 
 
 That rose in curses on the air, 
 Courting the shafts that might not harm 
 
 His country while they rankled there. 
 
 Slow falling back from Bowling Green, 
 
 His crippled columns move along, 
 While, flanking every side, were seen 
 
 The myriad hosts of human wrong, 
 Curtained beneath his clear, calm eye, 
 
 The heroic impulse held its sway, 
 . Till, turning in his path to die, 
 
 The wounded lion stands at bay. 
 
 Ah! how he stood and where he stood, 
 
 Where strong men perished in their strength, 
 On Shiloh's field of death and blood 
 
 His bolted thunders fell at length. 
 The fires of vengeance, hot and red, 
 
 Far flashed where rode his knightly form, 
 And wreck and rout and ruin spread 
 
 Where swept that day his battle storm. 
 
 Oh, peace to him who slumbers now 
 
 Beneath the soil he died to save. 
 The wreath that decks his clay cold brow 
 
 Shall blossom in the martyr's grave; 
 Shall blossom where in after time 
 
 Our children's children bless the mold 
 Where Sidney Johnston sleeps sublime, 
 
 Like some great mastodon of old. 
 
Immortelles. 265 
 
 Death of General Leoxldas Polk 
 
 On the Kennesaw Mountain. 
 Hy Henry Linden Flash. 
 
 A flash from the edge of the hostile trench, 
 
 A puff of smoke, a roar, 
 Whose echo shall roll from the Kennesaw hill 
 
 To the furthermost Christian shore. 
 Proclaim to the world that the warrior priest 
 
 Will battle for right no more. 
 
 And that for a cause which is sanctified 
 
 By the blood of martyrs unknown — 
 A cause for which they gave their lives, 
 
 And for which he gave his own — 
 He kneels a meek embassador 
 
 At the foot of the Father's throne. 
 
 And up to the courts of another world 
 
 That angels alone have trod, 
 He lives away from the din and strife 
 
 Of this blood-besprinkled sod — 
 Crowned with the amaranthine wreath 
 
 That is worn by the blest of God! 
 
 High Tide at Gettysbukg. 
 
 Will H. Thompson. 
 
 A cloud possessed the hollow field, 
 The gathering battle's smoky shield 
 Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed, 
 And through the cloud some horsemen dashed, 
 And from the heights the thunder pealed. 
 
266 Immortelles. 
 
 Then at the brief command of Lee 
 Moved out that matchless infantry, 
 With Pickett leading grandly down 
 To rush against the roaring crown 
 Of those dread heights of destiny. 
 
 Far heard above the angry guns, 
 
 A cry across the tumult runs, 
 
 The voice that rang through Shiloh's woods 
 
 And Chickamauga's solitudes, 
 
 The fierce South cheering on her sons. 
 
 Ah! how the withering tempest blew 
 Against the front of Pettigrew ! 
 A khamsin wind that scorched and singed 
 Like that infernal flame that fringed 
 The British squares at Waterloo. 
 
 A thousand fell where Kemper led; 
 A thousand died where Garnett bled. 
 In blinding flame and strangling smoke, 
 The remnant through the batteries broke 
 And crossed the works with Armistead. 
 
 "Once more in Glory's van with me!" 
 
 Virginia cries to Tennessee: 
 "We two together, come what may, 
 
 Shall stand upon those works to-day, 
 
 The reddest day in history." 
 
 Brave Tennessee! Reckless the way! 
 Virginia heard her comrade say : 
 "Close round this rent and riddled rag, 
 What time she set her battle flag 
 Amid the guns of Doubleday." 
 
 But who shall break the guards that wait 
 Before the awful face of fate? 
 The tattered standards of the South 
 Were shriveled at the cannon's mouth, 
 And all her hopes were desolate. 
 
Immortelles. 267 
 
 In vain the Tennesseean set 
 His breast against the bayonet; 
 In vain Virginia charged and raged, 
 A tigress in her wrath encaged, 
 'Till a]l the hill was red and wet. 
 
 Above the bayonets mixed and crossed 
 Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost 
 Receding through the battle cloud, 
 And heard across the tempet loud 
 The death cry of a nation lost. 
 
 The brave went down; without disgrace 
 They leaped to Ruin's red embrace; 
 They only heard Fame's thunder wake. 
 And saw the dazzling sunburst break 
 In smiles on Glory's bloody face. 
 
 They fell, who lifted up a hand 
 And bade the sun in heaven to stand; 
 They smote and fell, who smote the bars, 
 Against the progress of the stars 
 And stayed the march of Motherland. 
 
 They stood, who saw the future come 
 On through the fight's delirium; 
 They smote and stood, who held the hope 
 Of nations on that slippery slope, 
 Amid the cheers of Christendom. 
 
 God lives! He forged the iron will 
 That clutched and held the trembling hill; 
 God lives and reigns; He built and lent 
 The heights for Freedom's battlement, 
 Where floats her flag in triumph still. 
 
 Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns! 
 Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs. 
 A mighty Mother turns in tears 
 The pages of her battle years, 
 Lamenting all her fallen sons! 
 
268 Immortelles. 
 
 Last Days of the Abmy of Tennessee. 
 "Halt! Camp at full distance, unload your 
 guns, stack them and rest at ease." At this all 
 field officers seemed to retire into the thick 
 woods that surrounded us to hide their faces for 
 a time, and left us to draw full rations from our 
 imaginations. We looked and listened in the 
 death-like silence for an answer to our hungry 
 thoughts. We saw our guns left without a 
 guard; our cannon was left alone in open 
 ground. No picket had been put out to herald 
 the approach of our enemies, who had been fol- 
 lowing us for two days. We listened closely 
 and expectantly for orders to build breastworks, 
 but no orders came. We sat and dreamed. 
 We walked around. What was happening in 
 that once jubilant army? Now it was so still. 
 Only the neigh of hungry horses broke the 
 death-like stillness. In this awful silence and 
 stupor the trees, the shadows seemed to sigh, 
 "Death, Death." The stillness is broken as if 
 by magic. The thunder tones of the enemy's 
 cannon, familiar, oft-repeated, over hill and dale, 
 and through the woodland on the right and on the 
 left behind us. We rush to our posts and wait 
 for orders to fall into line. We listen for the 
 bugle and breathlessly wait for the long roll, but 
 no bugle sounds, and no orders to fall in * * * 
 We see the field officers and they ride slowly 
 
Immortelles. 269 
 
 about and seem to be dreaming. When one is 
 asked to explain what this awful suspense means, 
 he only answers, "I don't know; but some- 
 thing will be known to-night on dress parade." 
 The suspense only increases as time passes until 
 dress parade is called. Each eager to be first, a 
 line is formed in less time than ever before. All 
 are ready and eager to hear, yet afraid to hear. 
 The adjutant walks out in front of the line, but 
 he looks downcast. His walk, his features tell 
 that unwelcome news or some evil forebodings 
 await us. When he pulls from his pocket a piece 
 of brown paper, he says: u Soldiers, this is hard 
 to read ; not because it is not well written, but be- 
 cause of what it contains." His voice is husky 
 as he reads: " 'Robt. E. Lee has surrendered, 
 and we are now entering a ten days' armistice.' 
 That's all. Officers, return your companies to 
 their respective quarters." 
 
 Ah, yes! the cannon that have thundered 
 all day in the rejoicing of the enemy! Will we 
 also have to give up? If so, where will we be 
 carried! What is the end! Will we go home 
 to see the dear ones that we have not seen in so 
 long! Will we ever know whether they are yet 
 alive, or will we, must we, fill the prisons of the 
 conquerors ! " Yes ; ' ' ' 'No ; " is answered. In 
 this strain we are left until the thunder tones of 
 Lincoln's death resound from end to end of our 
 
270 Immortelles. 
 
 army. Ten thonsand men join Joe Wheeler to 
 cnt through the enemy and try to escape to 
 Texas. But soon the order declared a hopeless 
 undertaking is canceled. * * * We made 
 out our muster rolls and drew our rations. Joe 
 Johnston issued to us the $30,000 in silver that 
 Jefferson Davis had given him for his services 
 to the Confeceracy. We started home without 
 even seeing the United States Army, with our 
 colors floating in the breeze, not knowing yet 
 that it was a conquered banner. Then as we 
 did pass outside the enemy's line, our sad faces 
 received sympathy from the "boys in blue," 
 and bidding them all a comrade's farewell, we 
 marched on homeward. But, oh, the heartaches 
 on that march! J. T. C. 
 
 General Custer's Tribute to the Con- 
 quered Foe. 
 
 Speaking of Custer's charge on the evening of 
 the 6th of April, 1865, and its repulse, the clos- 
 ing of the Federal lines around the Confederates, 
 and the last conflict at Sailor's Creek, a Union 
 soldier states: "Every cloud has its silver lin- 
 ing. The next morning, after a refreshing slum- 
 ber on the sweetest of all beds — the bare ground 
 
Immortelles. 271 
 
 — we were again marshaled in line, and down 
 that line came General Custer, his yellow hair 
 and boyish face well known to all of us. Near 
 the center of the line, he turned to his band, and 
 ordered it to play "Dixie." As the marvelous 
 strains of that Confederate war song floated in 
 liquid sweetness around us and over us, we 
 broke into tumultuous cheering. General Cus- 
 ter waved his hat, and a thousand gallant soldiers 
 in blue dashed caps in the air." Such was Gen- 
 eral Custer in the presence of a conquered foe. 
 Here might the artist have found his inspiration 
 for "Custer's Last Rally," and the Southern 
 poet who wrote: 
 
 The nations of the earth shall know 
 That love, not hate, alone can glow 
 In soldier hearts by valor tried, 
 On many a field, and this onr pride. 
 
 The immortal soul of Jefferson Davis passed 
 from earth on Friday. December 6, 1889. 
 
 "Davis is dead!" the message read, 
 
 The night was waning fast ; 
 On lightning wings the sentence sped ; 
 A storm of pent-up tears unshed 
 
 Came gushing forth at last. 
 
21 2 Immortelles. 
 
 "Davis is dead!" the message read. 
 We thought of days gone by 
 And him whose dauntless courage fed 
 The altar fires when hope had fled, 
 And darkness veiled the sky! 
 
 "Davis is dead!" the message read. 
 God keep his noble name; 
 The deeds of those who fought and bled 
 For Dixie are eternal wed 
 With his undying fame ! 
 
 "Davis is dead!" the message read; 
 Last of a princely train. 
 Though lowly lies his crownless head, 
 His memory lives, and in his stead 
 No other king shall reign ! 
 
 Montgomery M. Fulsom. 
 
 Ouk Dead Chief. 
 
 Come, brothers of our Southern land- 
 Members of that historic band 
 
 Who gladly wore the gray — 
 Come, let us morn our fallen chief; 
 Let us in sackcloth and grief, 
 
 In sorrow weep to-day. 
 
 A man of wondrous gifts is gone, 
 A man with kingly graces born, 
 
 A warrior, statesman — dead. 
 "Our President," through bloody wars- 
 A martyr to a glorious cause — 
 
 For us his heart has bled. 
 
Immortelles. 273 
 
 He grandly lived a silent life 
 
 Since turning from all whirl and strife, 
 
 And bore a breaking heart. 
 The target of a hundred pens, 
 Aflame with hate, their arrow sends 
 
 Full many a poisoned dart. 
 
 There meets my gaze on yonder wall 
 A pictured group in public hall. 
 
 In days when hearts were tried 
 A brilliant galaxy they be — 
 Hill, Jackson, Stuart, knightly Lee — 
 
 Virginia's sons — her pride. 
 
 Our honored chief 's among the band. 
 He sits — the others round him stand, 
 
 A nobler conclave never. 
 All have been called — yes, one by one — 
 Leaving the grand old man alone. 
 
 Now, he has crossed the river. 
 
 Come, brothers; gather 'round his bier, 
 And touch it with the falling tear, 
 
 Which wells from streaming eyes. 
 No fitter tribute can we bring 
 Than loyal hearts, and souls whence spring 
 
 Love reaching to the skies. 
 
 —Mrs. J. William Jones. 
 
 In 1867 Bishop 0. P. Fitzgerald, editor of the 
 Christian Spectator, San Francisco, Cal., col- 
 lected and remitted to the relief committee of 
 the South over ninety thousand dollars for the 
 t.— 18 
 
274 Immortelles. 
 
 suffering people. By special request one remit- 
 tance was made directly to General Lee for the 
 benefit of the families of deceased Confederate 
 Virginia soldiers. The following reply was sent : 
 
 Lexington, Va., June 1, 1867. 
 
 My Dear Sir — I received from Messrs. Lee 
 & Waller, New York, $509.00 in gold forwarded 
 by you for the widows and orphans of Southern 
 soldiers in Virginia. I will endeavor to apply 
 for the relief of those most requiring aid. 
 
 I hope you will permit me to express my indi- 
 vidual thanks to you and the generous donors 
 for the aid thus given the suffering women and 
 children of Virginia, whose grateful prayers in 
 your behalf will, I am sure, be registered in 
 heaven. With great respect, your obedient 
 servant, R, E. Lee. 
 
 Rev. 0. P. Fitzgerald. 
 
 Californians should ever be remembered with 
 gratitude for their great kindness during the 
 period referred to. There was sent to Nashville 
 $3,300 of this fund. 
 
 " Stonewall 7 ' Jackson. 
 
 He sleeps 'neath the soil that the hero loved well, 
 In the land of his birth, his own Sunny South. 
 
 He hated oppression as millions can tell, 
 Nor feared the grim king at the fierce cannon's mouth. 
 
Immortelles. 275 
 
 'Mid the brave he was bravest— the noblest of all, 
 
 In virtue was peerless, a halo cf light 
 He shed o'er the land that now mourns the fall 
 
 Of the chieftain, the hero, the valiant in fight. 
 
 He needs not a costly mausoleum nor urn 
 
 To point out the spot where he sleeps in his grave, 
 For like living fire his virtues will burn, 
 
 So long as earth honors the gallant and brave ; 
 His name is a talisman shielding our land 
 
 Which will guide the brave soldier to glory and fame. 
 The truest and bravest in our peerless land 
 
 Will vie in great deeds at the sound of his name. 
 
 But never again 'mid the hoarse cannon's roar, 
 
 Shall our brave boys hear "Stonewall" give earthly 
 command ; 
 He has fought the good fight, and on Canaan's bright shore 
 
 He wears a rich crown en the Savior's right hand. 
 The hero, the soldier has passed from our sight, 
 
 'Mid the victorious sounds of a nation, whose joy 
 Is saddened to think that the peerless in might, 
 
 Has fled to the mansions in yonder blue sky. 
 
 — L. H. M. 
 
 Huntsville, Ala., May 18, 1863. 
 
 A Tribute To Jefferson Davis. 
 By Bettie Houston Littlepage. 
 
 Jefferson Davis ! softly breathe 
 
 The name so grandly worn 
 By one who each reverse of fate 
 
 For years has nobly borne. 
 
276 Immortelles. 
 
 A leader on the battlefield, 
 
 Of courage cool and high, 
 He led his men to victory 
 
 Beneath a tropic sky. 
 
 A leader in the council hall, 
 
 Our chosen one he stood, 
 On whom each Southern heart relied 
 
 For counsel sage and good. 
 
 And when defeat had thrown a pall 
 
 Of darkness o'er the land, 
 On him Oppression chose to lay 
 
 A heavy, cruel hand. 
 
 They took each right a freeman claims, 
 
 And sought to tear away 
 The wreath of love our Southland placed 
 
 Upon his locks of gray. 
 
 But to our chief, in his retreat, 
 Each loyal Southron turned, 
 
 And over his indignities 
 Our pride so fiercely burned. 
 
 Each wound they gave to his proud heart 
 
 A hundred thousand bore, 
 Who loved the Lost Cause tenderly, 
 
 And the gray that Davis wore. 
 
 He was a martyr for our sakes, 
 
 A king without a throne ; 
 And Southern chivalry gave to him 
 
 More than the world has known 
 
 Of homage, springing from the heart, 
 
 A love so deep and strong, 
 A grand-voiced bard will yet arise 
 
 To weave it into song. 
 
Immortelles. 277 
 
 But jealousy and hate may cease. 
 
 For list! a funeral knell! 
 The flags are floating at half mast, 
 
 And tolls the passing bell. 
 
 Each Southern heart is bowed with pain, 
 
 And eyes are dim with tears; 
 We softly breathe the honored name 
 
 Which memory so endears. 
 
 For, lying in a hail of state, 
 
 Upon a flower- strewn bed, 
 A sorrowing people gather round 
 
 Our chieftain, cold and dead. 
 
 But Fame will place upon its scroll 
 
 His name that cannot die, 
 And proudly blazon it abroad 
 
 As Time speeds swiftly by. 
 
 For prejudice will pass away, 
 
 And History will give 
 The meed of praise, so justly due, 
 
 And bid his memory live. 
 
 He needs no highly sculptured urn — 
 
 No ode, nor funeral lay; 
 He'll live forever in the hearts 
 
 Of all who love the gray. 
 
 Tkibute to Capt. Edward Crockett. 
 
 In reviewing the past, and calling to mind some 
 of the heroes who crossed the silent river in de- 
 fense of a cause though lost, yet sacred, still 1 
 
2/8 Immortelles. 
 
 think there is no one more worthy of notice 
 than Capt. Edward Crockett, who quietly sleeps 
 at Chickamauga. Having been a member of his 
 company (A, thirteenth regiment) it was on the 
 last day of the fight (Sunday) while at the head 
 of his company, and sword aloft, that his star 
 went down. There is no slab to mark his last 
 resting place; yet each surviving member of 
 old Company A, who followed him in this terri- 
 ble onslaught, carries in memory's casket in let- 
 ters of living gold, the name of Capt. Edward 
 R. Crockett. 
 
 H. H. HOCKEESMITH. 
 
 Woodbnrn, Ky. 
 
 Fuel That Banner. 
 
 By Father Ryan. 
 
 Take that banner down, 'tis weary; 
 'Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; 
 
 Furl it, fold it, let it rest, 
 For there is not a man to wave it, 
 For there is not a sword to save it, 
 And its foes not scorn and brave it 
 In the blood that heroes gave it — 
 
 Furl it, hide it, let it rest. 
 
 Take that banner down, 'tis tattered; 
 Broken is its staff, and shattered, 
 And the valiant hosts are scattered, 
 
 Over whom it floated high. 
 O, 'tis hard for us to fold it; 
 Hard to think there's none to hold it; 
 
Immortelles. 270 
 
 Hard that those that unrolled it 
 Now must furl it with a sigh. 
 
 Furl that banner, furl it sadly — 
 Once six millions hailed it gladly, 
 And ten thousand wildly, madly. 
 
 Swore it should forever wave — 
 Swore that foeman's sword should never 
 Hearts, like theirs entwined, dissever, 
 And that flag should float forever 
 
 O'er their freedom or their grave. 
 
 Furl it, for the hands that grasped it 
 And the hearts that fondly clasped it, 
 
 Cold and dead are lying low; 
 And that banner, it is trailing, 
 While above it sounds the wailing 
 
 Of its people in their woe, 
 For, though conquered, they adore it — 
 Love the cold dead hands that bore it — 
 Pardon those who trailed and tore it; 
 O, how wildly they deplore it 
 
 Xow to furl and fold it so. 
 
 Furl that banner, true 't is gory, 
 Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, 
 And 't will live in song and story 
 
 Though its folds are in the dust ; 
 For its fame, on brightest pages 
 Penned by poets and by sages. 
 Shall go sounding down the ages, 
 
 Furl its folds though now we must. 
 
 Furl that banner softly, slowly, 
 Furl it gently; it is holy, 
 
 For it droops above the dead. 
 Touch it not, unfurl it never, 
 Let it droop there furled forever, 
 
 For its people's hopes are fled. 
 
280 Immortelles. 
 
 The Confederate Note. 
 
 By Major S. A. Jones, of Aberdeen, Miss. 
 
 Representing nothing on God's earth now, 
 
 And naught in the waters below it; 
 As a pledge of a nation that's dead and gone, 
 
 Keep it, dear friend, and show it. 
 Show it to those who will lend an ear 
 
 To the tale that this paper can tell, 
 Of liberty born of the patriot's dream, 
 
 Of a storm -cradled nation that fell. 
 
 Too poor to possess the precious ores, 
 
 And too much of a stranger to borrow, 
 We issued to-day our promises to pay, 
 
 Hoping to redeem on the morrow. 
 But days flew by, weeks became years, 
 
 Our coffers were empty still, 
 Coin was so scarce our treasury'd quake 
 
 If a dollar would drop in the till. 
 
 Itlooked in our eyes a promise to pay, 
 
 And each patriot believed it. 
 We knew it had scarcely a value in gold, 
 
 Yet as gold the soldiers received it, 
 But the faith that was in us was strong indeed, 
 
 And our poverty well discerned, 
 And these little checks represented the pay 
 
 That our suffering veterans earned. 
 
 But our boys thought little of prize or pay, 
 
 Or of bills that were over due ; 
 We knew if it brought us our bread to-day 
 
 'Twas the best our poor country could do. 
 Keep it, it tells our history o'er, 
 
 From the birth of the dream to its last. 
 Modest and born of the angel of hope, 
 
 Like our hope of successs it passed. 
 
Immortelles. 281 
 
 Eeply From Across "The Chasm." 
 
 Thanks, worthy friend, most heartfelt thanks, 
 
 Both for the gift so kindly sent 
 And for the lesson by it taught 
 
 Of wisdom and content. 
 
 Say not it represented naught, 
 
 For to my mind its worth 
 This day exceeds the fondest hopes 
 
 Of those who sent it forth. 
 
 What thoughts of dangers bravely met, 
 
 Of hardships calmly borne, 
 Of hopes deferred and sickened hearts, 
 
 Through winter and through storm. 
 
 Come to our minds while yet we gaze 
 
 On "promises to pay," 
 Which ne'er were naid and ne'er shall be 
 
 Until the judgment day. 
 
 'Tis ever thus with this world's hopes, 
 
 We plan and work and pray, 
 But God knows best and blesses us 
 
 In his own time and way. 
 
 His way is best! Could we but feel 
 
 How sure his blessings are, 
 Our promises would be far less, 
 
 Our doings would be more. 
 
 Like foes we met on hostile fields, 
 When this money bought you bread: 
 
 Like brothers now we meet again 
 Since demon, war, has fled. 
 
 Warned by our sorrows in the past, 
 
 May we like brothers stand 
 Shoulder to shoulder in resolve 
 
 To guard our native land. 
 
282 Immortelles. 
 
 Invincible we then shall be, 
 Armed with truth and right, 
 
 Ready to help each suffering soul 
 That seeketh aid or light. 
 
 Then say not they are valueless, 
 For the lessons they have taught 
 
 May be of value greater far 
 Than could with gold be bought. 
 
 The Soldier's Return. 
 
 By Anna Ward. 
 
 Did he come in the pride of manhood, 
 
 Flushed with a soldier's fame? 
 Did he hear a voice of welcome, 
 
 A joy that breathed his name? 
 Did they meet the proud young brother, 
 
 And kiss the bay -wreathed brow? 
 Did his presence in the homestead 
 
 Bring the sunshine's olden glow? 
 
 Did the mother's heart beat happy, 
 
 As she brushed away a tear — 
 While her heart spoke its thanksgiving, 
 
 And silently its prayer? 
 Did the father's aged footsteps 
 
 Hasten to meet his boy, 
 And bless the glowing sunlight 
 
 Which brought such holy joy? 
 
 Ah, no! through hall and parlor, 
 
 Sad footsteps echo now. 
 They bear a soldier's coffin, 
 
 With measured steps and slow— 
 
Immortelles. 283 
 
 Back home, from whence he lately 
 Answered his country's call. 
 
 They bear it over the threshold, 
 The soldier's funeral pall. 
 
 No ray of a bright, glad welcome, 
 
 But there entereth a dart 
 Which bringeth a cry of anguish, 
 
 The wail of a broken heart — 
 The wail of a stricken mother, 
 
 A sister's anguished moan, 
 A brother's heart-wrung sorrow, 
 
 A father's tortured groan. 
 
 Out 'neath the clouded heaven, 
 
 From the home he knew no more, 
 They bear the brave young brother 
 
 Whose soldier's life is o'er. 
 Ne'er to the call of loved ones 
 He'll wake; they bear him lightly, 
 The dead to his narrow home. 
 
 The clod falls so hurtling 
 O'er his coffined breast, 
 Yet breaks not the soldier's rest. 
 
 Not a struggling sunbeam lingers 
 
 O'er his coffined breast, 
 Yet breaks not the soldier's slumber 
 
 Or troubles his dreamless rest. 
 Not a struggling sunbeam lingers 
 
 Over the red low grave ; 
 The rain sweeps over the hill top 
 
 A requiem to the brave. 
 
 Yet, mourners, there is Honor 
 
 Shining o'er his grave, 
 A nation's tear its tribute, 
 
284 immortelles. 
 
 Shed for the youngest brave ; 
 And God bends down with healing 
 
 To grief so deep and fell, 
 He chasteneth with sorrow, 
 
 He doeth all things well. 
 January, 1862. 
 
 GrEN. E. KlEBY SMITH. 
 The Last Living General of the Southern War. 
 
 General E. Kirby Smith is today alone in that 
 gloomy atmosphere of defeated, but proud and 
 honored leadership in which walked and breathed 
 the seven generals who headed the Lost Cause. 
 One by one they have passed away into that 
 land where there is no more of slavery, no more 
 of war, no more of heartaches and despoiled 
 hopes and ambitions. So that now General 
 Kirby Smith stands alone on the shores of that 
 limitless sea across which his fellow generals 
 have passed away. 
 
 Robert E. Lee has gone. So has Samuel 
 Cooper, once head of all. Gone, too, have Bragg, 
 Albert Sidney and Joseph E. Johnston. And 
 before a second sun shall have passed over the 
 fields and forests of Southland the bones of 
 Beauregard will have been borne away in state 
 from beneath those same arches which have 
 
Immortelles. 285 
 
 scarcely lost the echo of the mourning voices 
 that were heard over the bier of Jefferson Davis. 
 So that now of all that brilliant array of man- 
 hood and military genius the luster of whose 
 achievements shone into the remotest parts of 
 the earth but one remains — Gren. E. Kirby 
 Smith. 
 
 He was wounded at the first battle of Manas- 
 sas, a Minie ball passing through from one 
 shoulder to the other. He was second in com- 
 mand to Johnston. Picture, if you can, an 
 aged, white-haired man, lean and graceful; a 
 man of fire, whose soul shining through his 
 dark eyes seems to have been made but the 
 warmer and brighter for the snows which cover 
 his head and beard. The thick dark curls of 
 his youth no longer cluster about his brow. The 
 long beard, white as the driven snow, sweeping- 
 over his dark coat front first attracts the 
 attention. 
 
 Trablixg Back to Georgia. 
 By C. D. Blake. 
 
 I'se trabling back to Georgia, 
 Dat good, old land to see — 
 
 The place I left to wander 
 The day I was free. 
 
286 Immortelles. 
 
 I'se getting old and weary, 
 
 And tired of roaming, too ; 
 So, on my way to Dixie, 
 
 I'll say good-bye to you. 
 
 Chorus. 
 I'se trabling back — yes, trabling back; 
 
 I'se trabling night rnd day. 
 I'se trabling back to Georgia, 
 
 For I can not keep away. 
 
 I'se trabling back to Georgia, 
 
 The place where I was born, 
 Among the fields of cotton, 
 
 The sugar-cane and corn. 
 So happy with old massa, 
 
 A living in the lane. 
 To see the old plantation, 
 
 I'se trabling back again. 
 [Chorus.] 
 
 To live and die in Georgia, 
 
 Dats good enough for me. 
 I'll hoe de corn and cotton, 
 
 And, oh, so happy be. 
 I'll hunt the coon and 'possum, 
 
 And dance and sing and play; 
 And when I once get back there, 
 
 I'll never come away. 
 
 [Chorus.] 
 
 I'se trabling back to Georgia, 
 
 To see the darkies there, 
 And see my old Aunt Dinah. 
 
 Oh, golly, won't she stare. 
 We'll dance all night— till mornin'— 
 
 By banjo's sweet refrain, 
 And have a celebration, 
 
 When I get back again. 
 
 [Chorus.] 
 
Immortelles. 287 
 
 The Pickett Charge. 
 From Members of the General's Staff at Gettysburg. 
 
 When the division arrived on the battle-field on 
 that morning it took a position slightly in the 
 rear of the artillery commanded by Colonel E. 
 P. Alexander, and General Pickett was directed 
 to hold himself in readiness to move against 
 the enemy's position whenever notified by 
 Colonel Alexander that the Federal artillery 
 was sufficiently disabled to render an assault 
 practicable. One of General Pickett's couriers 
 (TMartin Campbell by name) was left with 
 Colonel Alexander to bring his notice to Gen- 
 eral Pickett whenever he thought the proper 
 time to move had arrived. The artillery duel, 
 as is generally known, raged for about two 
 hours, and at the end of that time there was an 
 evident slacking of the enemy's fire. Colonel 
 Alexander then sent to General Pickett the 
 notice to move, under the impression that the 
 Federal batteries were to some extent silenced. 
 This proved afterward to be a mistake, as a lull 
 in their fire was caused by temporary want of 
 ammunition. When he received the order 
 General Pickett placed himself at the front of 
 his division, actively directing its movements, 
 and in every respect participating in its dangers. 
 In no other positition would it have been 
 
288 Immortelles. 
 
 possible for him to know what was occuring all 
 along the line, or to discharge the dnties which 
 every practical soldier knows would devolve 
 upon a Major General commanding an important 
 movement. When the attack failed he per- 
 sonally superintended the withdrawal of his 
 troops and the formation of the remnant of his 
 division, along a new line near our original 
 position. 
 
 That there could possibly have been any 
 doubt as to the facts above mentioned is a 
 matter that will never be comprehended by any 
 man or officer familiar with the facts. 
 
 GrETTYSBUKG AND ITS FAMOUS BATTLE. 
 "Glimpses of America." 
 The landscape is thereabout undulating, occa- 
 sionally rising to hills of considerable size. His- 
 torically, the place is imperishably famous, for 
 here was fought on the 1st, 2d and 3d of July, 
 1863, the bloodiest and hottest contested battle 
 of the Civil War. There is Cemetery Hill, the 
 old grave place of the town, where thousands 
 slept before the awakening alarms of cannon 
 and musket enveloped the scene in battle smoke. 
 Here it was that the Union forces under Gen- 
 eral Meade pitched their quarters because it 
 commanded a view of the adjacent country. 
 
Immortelles. 289 
 
 One mile toward the west is Seminary Ridge, 
 the spot chosen by the Confederates under Gen- 
 eral Lee, as their vantage point and headquar- 
 ters. Xow, sweep the horizon and mark the 
 places where the battle waxed the fiercest; 
 where the dead lay thickest and the thunder of 
 conflict was loudest. Willoughby Run, where 
 the battle began and where Buford's Cavalry 
 was hurled upon the steel of Hill, and for two 
 hours withstood the hell of ball and bayonet 
 until flesh could endure no more. There is 
 Round Top, another eminence, where the Union 
 lines reformed, with the left wing thrown around 
 the ridge to Cemetery Hill. There is where 
 Longstreet struck Sickles, with such fearless 
 resolution, and a whole day was spent in con- 
 tention for Great and Little Round Top without 
 advantage on either side but with frightful 
 losses to both. Xow, on Cemetery Hill the 
 eyes of the world must rest for here it was on 
 the third day that such fighting was done as 
 Greek nor Roman ever knew. After a lull at 
 midday 200 brazen throats opened with boom 
 and screaming shells ; the air became filled with 
 smoke and the earth was choked with dead un- 
 til there came a lull, out of which broke a col- 
 umn three miles long, whose gray uniforms 
 soon proclaimed the advance of General Pickett 
 leading his army to storm the L'nion position, 
 i.— 19 
 
290 Immortelles. 
 
 No charge ever made was more terrible ; no re- 
 pulse was ever more fatal. Americans, what- 
 ever be their sympathies, whatever their preju- 
 dices, may feel proud of the .heroism displayed 
 by both armies on that day of carnage around 
 Cemetery Hill. It was a courage that glorifies 
 America. The 54,000 souls that laid down their 
 arms and answered roll call the morning of July 
 4 on the parade ground of paradise were our 
 countrymen. They were distinguished by uni- 
 forms of blue and gray then-, they are in- 
 vested with robes now that are woven without 
 color. 
 
 Old and Disabled Veterans. 
 
 A eecent visit to the Confederate Home at 
 Higginsville was repaid by an insight into an 
 institution different in every way from any 
 other. Of course, the attraction of the place is 
 its novelty. The world is full of soldiers' homes 
 — that is, places set apart and maintained by 
 nations. The $100,000 that have been expended 
 here for land and buildings came as voluntary 
 contributions from the men and women of Mis- 
 souri who admire valor for valor's sake and 
 whose hearts have been touched by the sad 
 plight of the remnant of that brave Spartan 
 
Immortelles. 1291 
 
 band whose members bared their breasts 
 in defense of what their fathers had taught 
 them was right, and who are now suffer- 
 ing for having fought battles and lost. The 
 inmates have been recruited from every walk of 
 life. Among the most distinguished recipients 
 of the kindly hospitality of the home is 
 Major J. D. Manton. The major has not 
 been there long, but already he shows the effects 
 of the quiet life and careful medical attention 
 afforded by the place. He has a remarkable 
 history back of him. When a young man. 
 flushed with the burning pride of the Old South. 
 he enlisted and equipped at his own expense a 
 company of cavalry over in the Shenandoah 
 Yalley of Virginia. He was attached to " Stone- 
 wall" Jackson's command, and was placed on 
 the staff of that brilliant genius of war as an 
 aide-de-camp. He was perhaps as close to 
 Jackson as any man now alive. Taciturn 
 and imperturbable as a Trappist monk though 
 Jackson was, he usually talked with his 
 young aide with a freedom that was sur- 
 prising to the rest of the staff. "This 
 flattered me at first," said Major Manton, 
 " until I found out that the only reason 
 that Jackson seemed so fond of talking to me 
 was because I was intimately acquainted with 
 the country through which we were marching 
 
292 Immortelles. 
 
 and he was not. By pumping me in that sly 
 way of his he learned all about the country 
 without letting me know what he was after. 
 Jackson never made a confidant of any man. No 
 one knew what his plans were, if, indeed, he 
 ever knew himself, twelve hours before execut- 
 ing them. Of course the story of his religious 
 devotion is an old one. But I believe 
 I have seen him worshipping his God 
 under circumstances the like of which 
 few men now living witnessed. He never 
 left his tent to lead his men into bat- 
 tle that he did not mumble a prayer, and 
 when in the thickest of the fight, with shells 
 screaming around him, bullets whizzing and 
 whistling, cannon roaring, sabres clashing, 
 men shouting with victory and moaning in the 
 agonies of death, right at the front line of 
 battle could be seen Jackson sitting on his 
 horse, with hands and face upturned to the sky 
 and his thin, pale lips moving in prayer." 
 
Immortelles. 293 
 
 Make One Moke GKjn for Me. 
 
 [The following poem, written by an Ex- Confederate 
 veteran, was read at the dinner of the Confederate Veteran 
 Camp, of New York, on Monday, the occasion being the 
 anniversary of the birth of Gen. Robert E. Lee.] 
 
 Yes, sir; I fought with Stonewall 
 
 And faced the fight with Lee, 
 But if this here Union goes to war 
 
 Make one more gun for me. 
 
 I didn't shrink from Sherman 
 
 As he galloped to the sea, 
 And if this here Union goes to war 
 
 Make one more gun for me. 
 
 I was with them at Manassas, 
 
 The bully boys in gray ; 
 I heard the thunder's roarin' 
 
 Round Stonewall Jackson's way. 
 
 And many a time this sword of mine 
 
 Has blazed the route for Lee, 
 But if this old Union goes to war 
 
 Make one more sword for me. 
 
 I'm not so full of fightin', 
 
 Nor half so full of fun 
 As I was back in sixties 
 
 When I shouldered my old gun. 
 
 It may be that my hair is white, 
 
 Such things you know must be, 
 But if this old Union's in for fight 
 
 Make one more gun for me. 
 
 I hain't forgot my raisin', 
 Nor how, in sixty -two, 
 
204 Immortelles. 
 
 Or thereabouts, with battle shouts, 
 I charged the boys in blue. 
 
 And I say I fought with Stonewall, 
 And blazed the way with Lee, 
 
 But if this old Union's in for war, 
 Make one more gun for me. 
 January, 1896. 
 
 Just Sound the Tocsin. 
 
 I'm not one that hankers muchly for another "cruel war,"' 
 But I don't believe in knucklin' when it's right to stand 
 
 up squar; 
 When a bully wants to bully, whether suitin' you or not, 
 I'm for dosin' out a potion just to show him what is what! 
 An' I'm sartin ef the country should be forced at last to 
 
 fight 
 That the legions of the Southland will be found all right. 
 
 With the followers of Jackson an' Joe Hooker's men in 
 line, 
 
 Marchin' shoulder unto shoulder, thar'd be bisness, I opine 
 
 While the rebel yell of heroes who remain of Lee's com- 
 mand 
 
 Rhymed with wild hurrrahs of Spartans left of Grant's un- 
 daunted band. 
 
 Ah! they'd give the world the ager! an' I'd like to see the 
 fight 
 
 Ef it's bound to come upon us— for the South's all right! 
 
 Put the soldiers of the sections on the battle-field arrayed, 
 An' the nation that attacks 'em, needs a coffin ready-made! 
 They who fought so well at Seven Pines, at Gettysburg, 
 an' all— 
 
Immortelles. 295 
 
 Shakin' fists at danger— smilin' when they heard the battle - 
 
 call. 
 Don't you know they'd "git thar, Eli"— make a mighty 
 
 winnin' fight, 
 With the North in real earnest, an' the South all right! 
 
 —Will T. Hale. 
 
 "Never hand 
 
 Waved sword from stain as free, 
 Nor purer sword led braver band, 
 Nor braver bled for a brighter land, 
 Nor brighter land had a cause so grand, 
 Nor a cause a chief like Lee/' 
 
 '• All the bright laurels they fought to make bloom 
 Fell to the earth when they went to the tomb. 
 Give them the meed they have won in the past, 
 Give them the honors their merits forecast; 
 Give them the chaplets they wore in the strife ; 
 Give them the laurels they lost with their life. 
 When the great world its last judgment awaits; 
 When the blue sky shall swing open its gates, 
 And the long columns march silently through, 
 Past the Great Captain for final review, 
 Then for the blood that has flown for the right, 
 Crowns shall be given untarnished and bright." 
 
finale 
 
 My task, though imperfect, incomplete, is 
 ended. Many names are omitted, dear to every 
 Southern heart, worthy to respond to the roll 
 call of fame. It has been, however, more our 
 purpose to offer this tribute to the fallen. 
 
 While we accept the "New South" in the 
 spirit of that grand man, Henry Grady, as the 
 flowers bloom 'round peaceful homes to-day and 
 the mocking-birds sing of every clime in these 
 United States, the whippoorwill's plaint in the 
 tangled wood the night u Stonewall " Jackson 
 received his death wound can never be forgot- 
 ten, and no flowers may ever bloom as sweetly 
 as the immortelles planted by loving hands on 
 the graves of the heroes of the " Old South " 
 bedewed by a nation's tears of sorrow. 
 
 S. R, R. 
 
|utfres. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 Dedication 2 
 
 Preface 4 
 
 PROSE 
 
 A Faithful Servant 51 
 
 An Address to the Confederate Soldiers of the South- 
 west 123 
 
 A "War Time" Letter from Mrs. Emily Maffitt to Mrs. 
 
 Virginia Woodward, of Little Rock 143 
 
 A Southern Exile 198 
 
 Anniversary of Appomattox 235 
 
 Battles in Trans -Mississippi Department 71 
 
 Battles and Skirmishes Fought During the Civil War. . 74 
 
 By Telegraph 81 
 
 Confederate Gray Uniform, The 26 
 
 Colonel Shelby's Missouri Cavalry Brigade in Arkansas 76 
 
 Capture of Harper's Ferry 101 
 
 Dixie's Land, Walk 'Round 18 
 
 Flag Presentation at Belmonto, Ala 12 
 
 Flag Presentation at Clarksville, Ark 21 
 
 First Confederate Shot 13 
 
 First Confederate Flag 21 
 
 Father Ryan— When and Where Died 
 
 Fellow Feeling in the Army 195 
 
 From Captain Ridley's Journal 216 
 
 From Hon. Washington Gardner, of Michigan 255 
 
 General Beauregard's Will 48 
 
 Gubernational Confederates 62 
 
 General A. P. Hill 1C6 
 
ii Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Grant and Jefferson Davis Second Cousins . . . 130 
 
 General Marmaduke's Report 139 
 
 Grave of a Georgia Volunteer 223 
 
 General Lee's Ovation 244 
 
 General Custer's Tribute to the Confederate Foe 270 
 
 General E. Kirby Smith 284 
 
 Gettysburg and its Famous Battle 288 
 
 Humor in Camp 34 
 
 Historical Curiosity 46 
 
 History of Postage Stamps Used in the Confederate 
 
 States of America 56 
 
 Humor of the March 94 
 
 Humor on the March 121 
 
 How a Texas Girl Writes 148 
 
 Humor in Camp 202 
 
 History of the United States 217 
 
 James W. Jackson Who Fell at Alexander 141 
 
 Longstreet on the War 258 
 
 Last Days of the Army of Tennessee 268 
 
 Memorable Events of the Confederate War 34 
 
 Mr. Breckinridge's Acceptance of the Richmond Nomi- 
 nation 145 
 
 Mrs. Winfleld Scott's Kindness 205 
 
 News Item, April 15, 1863 131 
 
 Old and disabled veterans 290 
 
 Origin of Dixie 17 
 
 Origin of Dixie (another version) 18 
 
 Pelham at Fredericksburg 219 
 
 Stonewall Jackson's Death— The Last Hours of His 
 
 Life 166 
 
 Stonewall Jackson's Boys in Camp 149 
 
 Sheridan's Raid in the James River Valley 232 
 
 The Mule Balked 53 
 
 The Boy Soldier 70 
 
 The Gallant Charge of Cheatham's Division at Frank- 
 lin, Tenn 110 
 
 The Battle at Franklin 115 
 
Index. iii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Flag of the Florida Battery 133 
 
 The Platform that Breckinridge and Lane Stand Upon . . 145 
 
 The Memorable Month 160 
 
 The Burial of Lieutenant- General Jackson 187 
 
 The Confederate Battle Flag 217 
 
 That Silver Moon Banner 248 
 
 Tribute to Captain Edward Crockett 277 
 
 The Pickett Charge 287 
 
 Wilson's Creek 206 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 Page 
 
 A Gem 90 
 
 A Confederate Wedding 97 
 
 A Battle Call to Kentucky— 1861 137 
 
 All Over Now 156 
 
 An Old Battlefield in Georgia 158 
 
 A Georgia Volunteer 224 
 
 An Incident of Battle— The Boy in Blue 196 
 
 Ashes of Glory 200 
 
 Albert Sidney Johnson 263 
 
 A Tribute to Jefferson Davis 275 
 
 Burial of the Dead 135 
 
 Cleburne 153 
 
 Confederate Dead at Gettysburg 192 
 
 Dixie's Land— " Walk 'Round " 18 
 
 Dead on Manassas Plain 155 
 
 Death of General Leonidas Polk 265 
 
 Enlisted To-day 16 
 
 For Miss Sallie Robinson 25 
 
 Farewell to Johnson's Island 95 
 
 Freedom and Right 158 
 
 Furl that Banner 278 
 
 Goober Peas 100 
 
 General Hood's Last Charge 254 
 
iv Index. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 General Lee and Traveler 210 
 
 Ho ! For Breckinridge and Lane 148 
 
 "He'll See It When He Wakes" 202 
 
 How the Soldiers Talk 204 
 
 High Tide at Gettysburg 265 
 
 In Memory of Captain James Earwood 189 
 
 "I'm Conscripted, Smith, Conscripted" 231 
 
 Joe Johnston 133 
 
 John Pelham 164 
 
 Just Sound the Tocsin 294 
 
 Lines on the Death of Major H. S. McConnell 87 
 
 Land of King Cotton 105 
 
 Lines on the Death of Major Hall S. McConnell 142 
 
 Lines 151 
 
 Last Words of Stonewall Jackson 186 
 
 Lee at Appomattox 243 
 
 Little Giffin, of Tennessee 194 
 
 My Warrior Boy 70 
 
 Make One More Gun for Me" 293 
 
 Maryland 92 
 
 Manassas 96 
 
 My Southern Home 132 
 
 My Soldier Boy 161 
 
 My Wife and Child 165 
 
 Memories 251 
 
 Missing 256 
 
 My Little Volunteer 221 
 
 National Song— The Magnolia 11 
 
 Oh, He's Nothing but a Soldier 65 
 
 On the Death of General " Stonewall" Jackson 163 
 
 Our Battle Flag 246 
 
 Our Dead Chief 272 
 
 Pensacola 104 
 
 Quantrell's Call 73 
 
 Reply from "Across the Chasm" 281 
 
 Southern Girls' Song 43 
 
 Stonewall Jackson 274 
 
Index. v 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Men Who Wore the Gray 28 
 
 The Banner Song ' . . 42 
 
 The Old Coat of Gray 45 
 
 The Southern Cross 49 
 
 The Bonnie Blue Flag 52 
 
 The Jacket of Gray . 74 
 
 The Letter From Home 89 
 
 Tennessee 91 
 
 The Boy Soldier 102 
 
 The Dying Soldier 121 
 
 The Ballad of Chickamauga 128 
 
 The Band in the Pines 160 
 
 The Bugle Call 249 
 
 The Virginia Cadets 226 
 
 The Sword of Harry Lee 212 
 
 The Earl of Derby to General Lee 201 
 
 The Confederate Note 280 
 
 The Soldier's Return 282 
 
 Trabling back to Georgia 285 
 
 Western Dixie 138 
 

 346-5 
 

 • \s .-ate-- w 
 
 r • L * + o 
 
 / ° " ° « <^