.5 Copy The Fowj Settle ]pel6s of Xouisiana Kevisiteb again. % I \ • L \ \ ^ ^A< \ Battle REVISITED A SECOND TIME, ...BY.. THOMAS McMANUS, LATE MAJOR 25th CONNECTICUT VOLUNTEERS. MARCH, 1897. Hartford, Conn. : The Fowi^er & M11.1.ER Co., Printers and Pubushers, 341 Main Strb:bi. 1898. E^q Z-t) (/: / PREFACE. To My Regimental Comrades: — In February and March, 1896, I vis- ited the scenes of our campaign of 1863 for the first time in thirty-three years, and spent about three weeks in that delightful country. On my return I published an account of my visit in a little pamphlet for gratuitous distribu- tion among my former comrades. I made a subsequent visit to that region in February and March, 1897, and my reminiscences of this visit were pub- lished in a series of contributions to The Connecticut Catholic in October and November, 1897, and I now have collected them, in pamphlet form, and these are also intended for like gratui- tous distribution among my old and be- loved and alas! rapidly disappearing fellow soldiers of the Old Twenty-fifth Regiment. It is a plain recital, but I believe you all will be pleased to read it, and I wrote it, and now publish it, especially for you. Your affectionate Comrade, THOMAS M'MANUS. BATTLE FIELDS OF LOUISIANA. CHAPTER I. At 8:30 a. m., February the 24th, 1897, I started for Louisiana, to visit again the battle fields of the 25th regiment. At New Haven I found to my surprise and delight a son of one of my old comrades: his wife and daughter were going by the same train with me to New Orleans. My valued friend. Fa- ther DeBruycker of Willimantic, had already gone to New Orleans about two weeks before, and I anticipated a very delightful time In Louisiana in his company. Our train left the depot at Jersey City at 4:43 p. m. Next morning at 5:50 we were near the dividing line between Virginia and North Carolina. I found among the early risers a young lawyer of Charlotte, N. C, Mr. T. H. Sprinkle, who gave me valuable information concerning the present condition of the country through which we were passing; also, Col. J. L. Black of Blacksburg, a prominent officer of the Connfederate army, a graduate of West Point, and an ardent admirer of ex-Senator W. W. Eaton of Hartford, whose acquaintance he had formed in his Congressional service. Here at Blacksburg is the residence of Mr. Jones, formerly superintendent of the Connecticut Western R. R., a former resident of Hartford. About six miles from Kings Moun- tain Station is the old Kings Mountain battle ground, which was an important position during the Revolutionary War. Col. Black showed me from the car windows at Salisbury, the birthplace of Gen. Andrew Jackson, a modest log cabin. Between Greenville and Atlan- ta I noticed that the numerous hill sides were thoroughly cultivated in terraces circling around the cone-shap- ed uplands. The crop is principally cotton. Col. Black informed me that the cotton crop in North Carolina is more than double what it was before the war, and that already there are more than one hun- dred cotton mills in North Carolina. The mills are rapidly increasing in number, and spin a very fine strong thread, and they are annually increas- ing their capabilities. Soon they will be able to utilize the labor of the col- ored young girls and will be formidable rivals to the mills of Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut. I met here on the train two young French priests one of whom had land- ed at New York only two days before. Both were bound for New Orleans, to give their services to missionary work among the negroes of the Gulf States. My total ignorance of the French lan- guage, and their limited knowledge of the English, deprived me of what oth- erwise would have been a profitable conversation for me, and possibly in- teresting to them. At 4 p. m. we reached Atlanta. Around here the superstructure of the soil appears to be solid rock, from miles above to miles below the city. At this point we changed Our watches and robbed praeteritum tempus of an hour. Our chase of Old Sol had left us far be- hind in his race, yet we had gained an hour over our friends at Hartford. As we were leaving Atlanta, on the BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. •outhern edge of the city's suburbs, a stone of two inches or more in diame- ter, came crasliing through oue of the plate glass windows, filling the lap of a young lady who was sitting in the seat, with crashed glass, and alarming all the occupants of the car. Fortunately no harm was done. The stone was evi- dently thrown by some representative of the omnipresent and irrepressi- ble American bad boy. This being the sole exciting incident of the trip, we passengers felt that we had been very fortunate. Next morning at 5 a. m. we were whirled along Biloxi, and soon afterwards we passed Pass Christian, both pretty rural watering places, and favorite summer resorts for the people of Mobile and New Or- leans, Biloxi and Pass Christian will be remembered by the veterans of the 9th Conn., as this was the scene of their earlier engagements with the Confed- erates in 1862. At 7:45 a. m. our train arrived at New Orleans station, where Father DeBruycker was awaiting me. After breakfast we visited Capt. Wm. Wright (formerly of the 9th Conn.) at his office in the Custom House. He Informed me with great pleasure, that he had had a visit a few days previ- ously from Hon. Alfred E. Burr and his brother, Franklin L. Burr, both of whom had spent a short time in New Orleans on their way to Hot Springs, Ark. Our next visit was to Archbishop Janssens, who had as guest, the Papal Legate Archbishop Martinelli with whom I had a pleasant half hour's con- versation. He is a delightful gentle- man with fascinating manners, speaks our language distinctly and correctly, although slowly and with evident care. He possesses the rare and happy fac- ulty of putting people at once at ease, and dissipating the natural embarrass- ment usually attendant on an inter- view with high church dignitaries. He had been in New Orleans for a few days, and had evidently employed his eyes and ears to excellent purpose, and had a very good memory. I had the good fortune to see and hear him often before I returned home. Like as at my visit of a year previ- ous, I had arrived on the threshold of the Carnival— (Mardi Gras— or as pro- nounced here Mordy Grau) and desira- ble lodgings were difficult to obtain and very expensive. Three hours' search resulted in my selecting a room on Royal street. No. 938, with a Creole family, consisting of the grandmother, the mother and five children ranging in age from nine to twenty-two. The street and building were typical of the old city, no space between the dwell- ings — the inevitable balcony or gallery in front and rear at every story, and in the rear yards the high brick party fence, and tall wood cisterns in every angle. An inquiry at the office of the Pack- ett Co., as to when the "Paul Tulane" would sail, brought answer that her sailing days were over, and that she lay at the bottom of the Mississippi, having been snagged in July, 1896. Capt. Campbell and the officers of the "Tulane" were now on the steamer "Whisper" which had sailed the even- ing before, and would sail again from New Orleans on the coming Monday. I had allotted much of my expected pleasure on the association of the up- river trip with the "Tulane" and its officers, and I determined that my trip to Port Hudson would be deferred till Monday. I went to the "Grunewaid" to dinner, meeting on the way Capt. James C. Britton of Hartford, who was officially in New Orleans in the service of the U. S. department of labor. The balance of the day was spent in strolling around and refamiliarizing myself with the streets and buildings. I stepped into Col. Amand Hawkins' store in Ca- nal street (dealer in antiquities in which he is regarded as the best known authority in the country south of BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. Washington) whose store is the most interesting and best arranged museum of historical curiosities in the South. The colonel gave me a pair of buttons from the uniform of Lt. Col. Chas. D. Dreaux, 1st La. Battalion, and the first Confederate officer killed in action dur- ing the war. (Killed July 5th, 1861, near Newport News.) Among the historical curiosities in his possession, Col. Haw- kins showed me the silver medal that by vote of Congress in 1829, was struck off and ordered to be presented by Gen, Jackson, then President of the U. S. to the Indian Chief Oceola — the medal was buried with Oceola on Sullivan's Island, and subsequently was pilfered from the grave by prowling resurrec- tionists, and in time fell into the hands of Col. Hawkins. I have ever since re- gretted that I neglected to take a full description of this most interesting relic. The colonel introduced me to Mr. Eustice, brother of Sen. Eustice of Louisiana. Mr. Eustice informed me that his family were from Connecticut. Archbishop Janssens will be met every day on the principal streets and never without one or more persons with him. If he stops to speak to anyone, he is the centre of a group in a minute, ev- erybody wants the pleasure of a grip of his hand, a word of greeting, at least a recognition, all of which the Archbishop is ever ready to give to prince or pauper with equal cheerful- ness. It is one of the charms of the New Orleans people, that the well to do, both men and women, have the art of speak- ing with and noticing their poorer ac- quaintances in public places, and on the street, without the faintest sugges- tion of lowering their dignity, while the poorer people never show the slightest evidence of presumption in reciprocat- ing. Politeness is inborn with these people, and they have learned it as ope learns a language. I was surprised to see none of the loafer class. You of- ten pass groups of negroes or whites. especially on the levee, but while sug- gesting resting from work, and even idleness, they never suggested loung- ing or loafing. They will be good na- tured, chaffing, joking, or as the Irish people of forty years ago would have expressed it, "Mobbing one another," but never annoying the passer-by. The Catholic Winter School was to open on Sunday, Feb. 28, and this had brought to the city many Bishops and priests from other states, and during the continuance of the school, every church or chapel had three, four or even more masses at its altars every morning. St. Mary's chapel adjoining the Archbishop's residence on Chartre's street, had often times three masses by three different Bishops at three dif- ferent altars said simultaneously. The week day early masses were gen- erally well attended by women, though a respectable attendance by men was never wanting. Charters street is not as wide as Asylum street in Hartford. The resi- dence of the Archbishop is one hun- dred feet or so back from the street, the intervening space being given up to a grassy lawn, dotted here and there with clumps of shrubbery and tenanted by a couple of graceful deer. This is hidden from the street, by a brick wall of eight feet in height; in the centre of its line is the lodging of the porter, an old French soldier who is the pink of military accuracy and dignified politeness. The word in letters of eight or ten inches in length "Archeveque" on the surface of the pavement, is sufficient to indicate the house and its occupant. .The main residence, brick and stucco, two stories high, was formerly a con- vent of the Ursuline nuns, the building itself is evidently over one hundred years old, and shows little or no evi- dence of having been materially altered since its erection. During the day I called on several old friends, among them Captain Wright BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. of the Ninth Connecticut regiment, who presented me with a stout oaken cane made from one of the original timbers of Admiral Farragut's famous war sloop Hartford. It is as hard as iron and almost as heavy. Colonel Hearsey was sitting as usual behind the editor- ial desk of the "States Democrat," and he entertained me with an interesting account of his visit to Hartford many years ago. I could not neglect looking into St. Patrick's church, thereby recalling memories of Father Mullen, the bluff old pastor who was parish priest in 1S63, and for several years previous, and who is remembered as a somewhat stubborn secessionist by almost every member of the Connecticut 9th. As soon as General Butler took pos- session of New Orleans, with his army in April, 1862, it became the fad for ev- ery self-styled union resident to pay off his old scores against his personal enemies by going to Gfeneral Butler, and entering complaints against them for some real or pretended act of dis- loyalty to the Union cause ana it be- came customary also for some soldiers to make like charges against citizens who committed acts of contempt towards the Federal government, or its flag, or its defenders. An Irish soldier had died and his comrades prepared for his burial in the Catholic cemetery without having tak- en the trouble to arrange with Father Mullen, who was in charge, and who had been tendered no evidence what- ever that the man was entitled by ec- clesiastical laws to Christian burial in consecrated ground. Father Mullen, forbade the opening of the grave in that place, until such proof should be furnished. The soldiers instead of re- garding -the rules of the church promptly lodged with General Butler a complaint of disloyal behavior against Father Mullen, who was peremptorily summoned to appear before the gen- eral. He at once reported and re- quested to know for what he had been summoned. "I am credibly informed," said the general, "that you have re- fused to bury Union soldiers." "Your information is wrong," said Father Mullen; "I assure you that nothing would give me greater pleasure than to bury you all." General Butler rec- ognized the blunt honesty, though not the patriotism of the reply, but it is said that an understanding was soon reached, and no disagreement existed ever after between the two distinguish- ed men. Father Mullen was succeeded in 1863 by Father Dynott, a Belgian, who wore a monstrous jet black beard. The visitor from the north will be sur- prised at the number of priests here who are full bearded. Among distin- guished ecclesiastics here, I met the Bishop of a Southwestern diocese with a beard like a Persian. The first sensation to a stranger m passing along the narrow streets is that of personal danger at the intersec- tions. The gutters at the curb stones are from 14 to 18 inches deep, and the cast iron plate cross walks over them are seldom wide or entire, and are lo- cated generally with reckless indiffer- ence to oontinui'ty with the line of the sidewalk, and one instinctively looks carefully at the pavement just ahead when traveling over them after night fall. I saw to-day a poor blind negro feel- ing his way along one of the narrow streets, and a poorly dressed Irish wo- man near by was carrying a bundle of sticks that had evidently been gath- ered from some building in process of repair. She laid her bundle aside, and taking the arm of the sightless old ne- gro, conducted him in safety over the dangerous crossing, to the sidewalk on the other side, and returned to her burden. There was a grace and dignity in the way in which she performed this act of charitable politeness that was incomparable, and the old recipient's thanks were rendered in a manner that BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. Chesterfield himself might have envied. Such a sight in Hartford would have (most probably) provoked a grin of rid- icule. Here, not even the street gam- ins, appeared to consider it so unusual as to even attract their notice. CHAPTER II. On Sunday, Feb. 28, the opening of the Catholic Winter school occurred at the Cathedral. Through the thoughtful kindness of Archbishop Janssens, I was furnished with a ticket which gave me a seat in the middle aisle, within a few feet of the chancel rail. Ear'y in the morning I had visited the vast building for the purpose of studying its architecture and decorations. The seats, and space in front, were well filled with worshippers of every con- dition in life, engaged in their silent devotions. Several groups of tourists, who had evidently come to the city for the carnival, were strolling through the church, most of them ezhibiting a discreditable ignorance of common po- liteness and a total want of anything like reverence. They would pass on and stop as they pleased regardless of the convenience of the kneeling worship- pers around them, and chatter their comments on every object of interest or curiosity, as freely as if they were at a country fair. They made no apol- ogies for crowding through the kneel- ing throngs before the chancel and I saw more than one of these groups look at the worshippers with contemptuous sneers, then turn with a giggle and tit- ter, and converse audibly to one anoth- er, on the manners and garb of indi- viduals near by. Can anyone explain how it is that so many who, in ordinary society deport themselves with propriety, never seem to realize that a Catholic church or congregation, even during the most im- pressive service, is entitled to common respectful behavior from them. The high mass began at 10:30 a. m., the long line of ecclesiastics, led by the Marine band from one of the French war vessels, then lying in the river, marched from the Archbishop's resi- dence, to the Cathedral, and up the very broad aisle to the altar. The ma- rines, sailors and state militia stood all through the service in the broad aisle. Artillery boomed from a battery on the levee. The bells rang in the towers and the Cathedral was filled with music from band,organ and choir. The scenic effect of 'the grand altar with its hundreds of lights, its masses of flowers, the multitudes of ecclesias- tics of every rank, from the childish al- tar boy to the Papal representative, who celebrated the mass, altogether made one grand picture, such as few people ever look upon, and no one can see without the deepest emotion, and when at the solemn moment of Oonse- cration, the military simultaneously presented arms, the battery on the le- vee proclaimed it audibly for miles around, while within the walls, silent- 10 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. ly and almost breathlessly, knelt the gathering- of many thousand worship- pers. I felt how powerless is word or pen to properly describe the majesty or impressiveness of the scene. Bishop Dunn, of Dallas, Texas, was the preacher, and among the people present were manj^ of the civic digni- taries of the city and state, and sev- eral officers of the IT. S.army and navy, and of the French war vessels that were lying in the stream. Archbishop Janssens addressed the people after mass. His manner and style are pecu- liarly his own and add greatly to his irristible attractiveness. I viS'ited the Orphan Asylum for Col- ored girls, managed by a community of nuns, all colored ladies. My visit- ing hour would have been regarded as inconveniently unreasonable in society here. Father De Bruycker celebrated their morning mass on Monday, March 1, and I attended at 6:30 a. m. The chapel, clean as hands could make it, was filled with neatly arrayed colored girls, ranging in ages from 8 to 16. The Sisters were all well educated ladies. When I was leaving the convent af- ter mass, I found the front door lock- ed, and the Lady Superior rang a bell, and soon a bright, handsome Sister hastened into the hall with the key. "This," said the Lady Superior, intro- ducing her, " is Sister St. Peter— we have given her that name because she carries the keys." "Ah, Sister," I re- plied, "your title is a misnomer." "Why?" "Because you are letting me out. St. Peter employs his keys only to let good people in." Aside from the care of the orphans, these Sisters have a very large day school for colored children. The previous evening I had attended a reception given to the Papal Legate, by the alumni and students of the Jes- uit college, at the College hall on Ba- ronne street. In response to an ad- dress of welcome, by Judge Semmes, the Legate spoke in Englisb and ex- pressed his delight at the evidence that he saw everywhere of zealous interest and effort in the cause of Christian education. Among the guests were several American and French naval officers from the "Maine," "Texas" and from the French war ships, and also several army officers from the barracks at Chalmette. The carnival began early on Monday morning, March 1. Every man, woman and child in New Orleans feels obligat- ed to participate in some way in this annual festivity. The youthful masqueraders display themselves, clothed in grotesque costumes long be- fore daylight. The side walks are crowded early with pedestrians, and balconies are erected wherever there is room. Canal street looks like Penn- sylvania avenue in Washington on In- augural day. King Rex and Queen Re'gina, who are to rule the city from this time until midnig^ht on Tuesday, will make their triumphal entry at noon, landing at head of Canal street. I strolled to the river side. Every- thing that could float was utilized from the palatial steamer to the most dimin- utive skiff. The great father of waters is grimly rolling on and increasing his height day by day, and already the people are apprehensive as to his in- tentions concerning his final level. Its surface is yet far below the top of 'the natural bank, and many more feet must be surpassed before the danger line on the levee's face will be reached, but the mighty stream never makes a speedj halt when once it "has commenced to mount upwards. It will continue rising for many a week to come, this is sure.I went aboard the steamer "Whisper," and on the upper deck found my friend, Capt. Campbell, formerly of the "Paul Tulane," and saw here and there the familiar faces of his mates and clerks with whom I sailed a year ago. I re- ceived a warm greeting from every- one. The boat will start for Bayou Sara at 5 p. m. and I engaged my berth BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 11 to the amazement of everybody, for they cannot comprehend that it is possible for any one to voluntarily leave New Orleans on the first day of the "Mardi Gras." But I had seen the whole thing one year ago, and know it by heart. I secured a good seat on the upper deck and watched the arrival of the Royal fleet--the dingy fog covers the river, thickened with the smoke of many steamers. As the fleet appears, turning around the bend two miles be- low, a thousand steamer whistles break forth in hoarse roar, fierce screech and shrill pipe,— the concordant calliope and discordant multiplex gong do their best or worst— nothing else on earth can equal the din— the war ships belch forth thundering salutes, gun succeed- ing gun with incredible rapidity — the yards and sides of the ships are man- ned—the levee is packed with columns of soldiery— foot and horse, and spec- tators of every condition and color in tens of thousands— a crowd such as can be seen no where but in New Orleans. Levee and side walk crowds, are thick- ly sprinkled with Mardi Gras badges, gilt, silver, brass and copper of vari- ous designs. One of the steamship companies had placed a beautiful ocean steamer at the service of the Pa- pal Lega;te. Archbishop Janssens and visiting friends. I was honored with an invitation to be one of the party, but felt compelled to decline as I had made arrangements to leave for Bayou Sara in the afternoon. Sitting on the upper deck watching the roustabouts load up, I was greatly amused at the methods resorted to in getting the mules to venture over the gang plank. The old soldiers who serv- ed in these regions during the war re- member the many laugliable incidents attendant on loading or unloading mules. It was then not unusual to see a score of negroes vainly endeavoring to persuade one mule to go aboard. Shouts, pus'hes, lashes and lifts were fruitless. The rigid hind legs, with a backward brace could resist easily a force that could have snapped an Iron rod as big as the animal's shank. Now, like everything else in Louisiana, old methods have given way to the march of education. A diminutive cowboy mounted on a diminutive White horse rode over the gang plank, and tbe mules in lines of two, four or six as the number might be, followed with as much docility as so many Sunday school children going to a picnic. I no- ticed that there didn't seem to be much enthusiasm among the roustabouts towards getting employed for the trip and attributed it to the desire of re- maining in the city and witnessing the festivities of the carnival; one of the boat clerks told me that the boys had struck for hig'her pay. Everything was quiet however. The mate lounged on the gang plank and the roustabouts lighted their pipes and gaily chaitteid together. The mate meant to have a crew. The crew meant to go anyway, but to get bigger pay if possible. Oc- casionally, one would speak to the mate, go back to his companions, and after a little it was evident that the unanimity of sentiment on their part was dissolved and soon one came aboard, then two or three followed in a very little time, bye and bye all; the lines were cast off and our "Whisper" headed up the river with one sole pas- senger, but with an unusually heavy freight. Tuesday, March 2, on rising at 6 a. m., I found the river surface covered with thick brown fog, the boat was yet many miles below Dohaldsonville, fwhich we afterwards passed about 9 a. m. Here the Bayou Le Fourche forma an important outlet to the Gulf, run- ning south through Assumption par- ish, and between Terra Bonne and La Fourche interior, emptying "its waters into the Gulf of Mexico. A considera- ble part of Old Fort Barrow yet remains on the north side of the Bayou, and the draw bridge is yet standing and in con- 12 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. stant use. Our boat soon reached a camp by the river side, that suggested former war days. Thirty or forty tents were occupying the land between the levee foot and river bank. Tliis was Donovan's and Daly's levee camp, a colony of colored laborers who were re- pairing levees. Most of the men were at their work, but the women hastened from their tents to the landing and chatted garrulously with the rousta- bouts on board and flung jokes and chunks of wit back and forth. I paid less attention to w^hat they said than to their movements. Many of them were wondeix)usly graceful and moved with a dignified and stately step that a society belle might envy. Almost every little landing place is a picture in it- self. "Orange Grove" has an unrivalled group of live oaks. Evan Hall is a beautiful village on the west side of the river. Although so far from the sea, flocks of seagulls are flying high over the river and the mate tells me that he has seen them as far north as Vicks- burg. We pass, but make no stops at the Leper hospital, which is in charge of a community of nuns from New Or- leans. Our boat is so slow that it is 7 p. m. before we reach "Plaquemine," where the U. S. government is building locks and endeavoring to make naviga- tion possible from the river, over into Grand lake and the "Atchalfalya," just now, however, the water is too high, and the soil too friable and solvent and the grade from the surface of che Mis- sissippi too quick to permit any pro- gress to be made and very soon all work must cease, at least until June or July, when the flood shall have subsid- ed. No chance of a familiar glance at Baton Rouge to-night. I return to my room and listen to the musical cadence of the engines, and flnd on awakening at 2:30 a. •!. that we are just passing Baton Rouge — and at 4:30 a. m.,we pass Prophets Island, and it is 6:30 a. m. be- fore we reached Bayou Sara from which place I intended to drive down and over Thompson's Creek and enter the old Mississippi stronghold by the same route, that our regiment entered it in May, 1863. The weather, however, looked unpropitious and I decided that I could not run the risk of a Louisiana road in a storm of rain, and so I de- cided to remain aboard and leave the boat at Port Hickey on the return trip. The fog was very thick and great drops were condensed so that it was almost like a shower on deck but it cleare^d away soon after 8 a. m. and this gave me a good opportunity to observe the encroachments that the rising waters were making in the banks w^hich crum- bled away before our eyes, great mass es containing many cubic yards drop- ping with heavy slump into the swift and heavy current as it rolled along. Every here and there new levees had been built far away to the rear of the old ones — some of which were already near the rapidly approaching cur- rent — many of these new levees had left stately mansions, now abandoned, standing between them and the river, houses that within memory had stood many a rod back from the old levee. Wherever the stream directs its course it forces its way, and every new freshet of more than usual height leaves immense bays cut far inland, where but a few weeks before were fer- tile plantations of cane, cotton or rice. In future years these new channels will have been again abandoned by the river, the entrance above and exit be- low will have filled and closed and have left curved inland lakes miles in leng'th, wide and deep as the original stream, by and by to be broken into again by the spring overflow of a neighboring bayou and forming an exit possibly in- to the Mississippi miles below or possi- bly into the Grand Lake which empties eig'hty miles west of New Orleans into the lower waters of the Atchalfalaya. Nothing will more readily represent these changes in the water courses of Louisiana, than to watch the irregular BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 13 courses of the stream on the panes of a car window, during a rain shower. It is a study to watch the move- ments of the roustabouts, and to note with what shrewdness even in their hardest worlc and swiftest movements, they husband their strength, as they run ashore with a heavy bag of cotton seed or rice on their shoulders. They turn and run back to the boat, every joint loose, and they move to the right or left with a sinuosity of motion that does not detract in the slightest from their strength and they seem to slide rather than run on the gang plank, back to the deck where as they whir] along they receive another bag or box on their backs and trot back to the shore, without the faintest signs of weariness, although their bodies are exuding perspiration at every pore. The gang plank is narrow, jet the returning roustabout will wind serpen- tinely through the shore bound laden procession like an eel, with never a col- lision, reminding one of an endless chain; no one shows any sign of being winded — a white man would die, or at least faint in his tracks, in attempting to do What these fellows accomplish with ease, and when all is done and the boat backs away from shore, they are spread out over the loading, ap- parently fresh and chafflng one another as cheerily as if they had no cares in life. The negro is musical, — and music to him means more than sound, it is har- mony and sweetness, seldom joyous, but al'ways sweet. The moment he is aroused, he shakes sweetness of sound from every movement, and the burden of his song is love or nature. I have one piece of advice to give my North- ern friends who do not know the ne- gro. Do not try and hamper him by artificial rules — let him expand and grow just as he is. 14 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. CHAPTER III. Just before we reached the landing at Port Hickey, one of the negro wait- ers on the boat came to me and asked if I could give him a copy of the book of my trip a year ago. I was surprised and asked him if he had seen me the previous year. He said, "Oh, yes, I re- member you and Father Quinn — and I heard Capt. Campbell read your book and I wanted one.' I had just two copies remaining, and I gave him one and at the same time gave him the customary tip, slightly inflated, and he refused it not. We landed at Port Hickey which is at the extreme lower end of Port Hudson Bluffs, grip sack In hand I mounted to the top, and there at a very primitive country store in- quired if I could get accommodations for the coming night and also a car- riage and horse to drive around the place. The clerk who was a very fine looking young fellow, told me that he was sure that Mr. Slaughter would ac- commodate me, and offered to take me at once to his house, just up the bluffs. I went with him to a plantation man- sion, built of brick with a spacious ve- randa and a beautiful combination of garden, lawn, and forest between the house and road. I sat on the porch, while the clerk hunted up Mr. Slaugh- ter who soon appeared— and to whom I stated my situation— he called a ne- gro boy, and just then Mrs. Slaughter and one of her daughters came in, and the ladies received me not as a strang- er but as an honored guest. 1 was struck with the charming gracefulness of these people, which, however, is typ- ical of the Louisiana people every- where. The boy brought around the carriage and horses, and Mr. Slaugh- ter, telling his wife we would be gone for a couple of hours, invited me to drive and I g-ot into the carriage. A very few minutes drive brought me to the lower ravines where the Confeder- ates had their batteries 34 years ago. It actually looked as if nature, antici- pating the struggle of 1863, had espe- cially provided for this event. The ra- vine and bluffs show the most perfect arrangement for defense that can be imagined, and the most perfect shelter for a garrison. The Federal troops so entrenched would never have been cap- tured except by famine and in truth it was by famine largely that the garri- son of the stronghold was finally sub- dued. We drove out of the ravines up onto the plain table land across which the Confederates had built their semi- circular parapet that stood with its convex confronting us in 1863. A drive- way now occupied the site of the old formidable defense and a sugar mill stands near the place where was once the old sally port and entrance. Cane is growing on the fields over which Federal and Confederate shot and shell were then flying. Bit by bit as we drive to the north, the sugar fields become familiar and as we drive we approach an immense ravine. I asked my friend to stop and look over to the east and north. I saw the very tree at which I had stationed Lieut. Converse of Windsor Locks, with a powerful spy glass on May 25th and 26th to watch the enemy on the main works fronting the open plain. I asked Slaughter if BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 4jf 15 just before us was not where we open- ed the fig'ht on their rifle pits as we closed in on May 24 and he said, yes, this is the very place and those rifle pits are to our rig-ht and left just ahead. We drove on 'and down the hill to the ravine ahead with the trickling brook at its bottom, where we stopped and looked back and the scene of 34 years ag'o is as distinct as if it had happened yesterday. The chang-e I perceive is, that on the west, the roa.d is changed a few rods to the east but the old road is there yet and I can plainly see in memory, the 24th Conn, deployed on both sid.% and Gen. Grov- er, his horse just shot under him quiet- ly surveying the open g-round in front while the shot from Confederate bat- teries, sweeping the ravines between his advanced position and the head of our column. We drove across the ravine and up to the high ground on the other side. The woods were partly standing- on tiie west side of the road, where I remem- ber the 25th was ordered to occupy on that Sunday afternoon when we open- ed the assault. We drove off towards our then rig'ht, throug'h the thickets and fields as far as our horse and car- riage could go. The scene is startlingly familiar, but the heat of the day of March 3, is too powerful to allow me to explore the way again afoOt. I can see the whole road to the turn of the slope, down which we then advanced. V/e drove back into the village of Port Hudson. One of the first persons I saw was old Mr. Miller, my Confederate friend of a year before, who was sitting before his grocery store. He gave a genuine start and s'hout of surprise as he saw me. My host, Mr. Wm. S. Slaughter, whose hospitalities I was ihen enjoy- ing, had served with his broLher Joseph m the g'arrison at Port Huasun during the seige in 1863. Their father owned the plantation that includes the lowor half of Port Hudson, part of which lies in the parish of East Feliceana and part in that of East Baton Rjuge, the two sons in common inherited this his- toric ground, and their beautiful resi- dences are standing near one another en the lower bluffs facing the Missis- sippi river at Port Hickey— and in full sight of the new made land that stretches out to the west, from one and a half to two miles in front of the old formidable bluffs of Port Hudson, oov^ ei'ing the bed of the deep Mississippi, and now overspread with forest and meadow, and fields of cotton and corn. Our old battle ground is now one vast oane and cotton field-— with an immense sugar mill and cotton gin thereon. The newly made land is rapidly increasing on the Port Hudson side of the river, and it will be no surprise to me, to find in another year that the immense freshets of March, April and May, '97, will have reiached out a quarter of a mile or more to the west, and fully as far southward. We went doM-n under the bluffs and drank from the old spring that was on the river's brink until the river inclined Itself away from the heights. The roof of the old depot of the now extinct Port Hudson and Clinton R. R. is yet standing. The cattle have appropriated its ruined w^alls as a shelter from the heat. Be- side it, yet remains the track way of one of the heaviest Confederate guns — the grazing cows stray fearlessly to the edges of the clay cliffs and browze along their tops. The two young men who accompanied Father Quinn and I here one year ago, came down into the plain to meet me again and accompany us around. Mr. Slaughter and I went to his home for dinner. Mrs. Slaughter and her two daug^hters and niece were there and a dinner was spread that w^ould have excited surprise and ad- miration in Paris itself. Such fish and eggs — Heublien's was nowhere. Such fowl and ham — but it was Ash Wednes- day, and I could not partake, but I could and did admire; and such charm- 16 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. ing people— we all sat out under the roof of the broad veranda until late, looking on at the shining surface of the broad and swiftly flowing Missis- sippi fifty feet below. My host showed me an immense scar on the corner of his dwelling house where a ball from one of our heavy batteries had grazed the house, and splintered off a strip of the brick wall two feet long, but only three inches thick in its widest part. The brick walls were fairly pock-mark- ed by the bullets from the fleet in the river; walking near the house I noticed a clump of reeds, and suddenly remem- bered my promise that I would bring home to Hartford some of these as canes for my old comrades. I re- quested a young man (Schraeder) who ■happened to be close by, to cut for me about one hundred and fifty of them and in less than half an hour he had them at the house, and next morning they were on their way by express to Hartford. Sitting here on this broad veranda, and amidst these surroundings, seemed like dreamland. The moonbeams sparkled through the foliage of live oak. magnolia, pecan trees, shrubbery and evergreens. The hedges of Che- reokee rose line the road, the air is fairly languorous with the heavy per- fume of the yellow jasmine. My charm- ing hostess entertains me with recol- lections of her visits many years ago to her friends in Rhode Island. I was charmed with the graceful ways of the young ladies. Their man- ner was that of people accustomed to a constant residence in places where the auxiliaries of opera, drama, public library, social gatherings, etc., were abundant. They all had enjoyed the advantages of the best of seminaries, in New Orleans and Baton Rouge, and the training of the excellent Sisters. Yet one would think that living in a neighborhood so secluded and quiet would necessarily enforce on the resi- dents an air of rusticity. But a very short time in this latitude, will satisfy everybody that the Southern lady has the aid not only of grace but also of nature. She grows up attractively; it is in the air and surroundings— these misses had been an hour or two before, with the mother engaged in household duties, and in this they were as grace- ful and attractive as w^hen conversing here where I was giving to their father •who sits with us, my reminiscences of 34 years ago, of my doings on this very spot, and when he was here, one of the garrison on his father's estate. ,Mr. Slaughter told me that soon after the war, an island began to appear, in mid stream, opposite the upper part of the bluffs, off the mouth of Thompson creek, the heavier portion being towards the east bank of the river,but the channel under the bluffs continued navigable until after the heavy freshet in the spring of 1880, when the channel was closed to navigation and the land has been accumulating ever since. Mr. Slaughter and I had driven over in the afternoon to the National cem- etery, which lies near the centre of where our army lay in 1863 during the siege, about half a mile east of where the Confederate outer defences stood. The cemetery is inclosed by a neat brick wall, and at the entrance is the dwelling of the superintendent, a beau- tiful cottage, also of brick. The ceme- tery is kept in excellent order, but most of the graves are unidentified, which is no fault of the present super- intendent and possibly no fault of his predecessors, since it was absolutely impossible to identify many of the bod- ies. I examined the records to see if I could find the names of any of the men of my own regiment, or in fact of any of the Connecticut regiments. I found only the name of Sergeant John Car- roll of Co. E, 24 Conn., who was killed May 25, 1863, at the rifle pits, out of which the 24th regiment had driven the enemy the day before. Next morning at 7:30 the little mail BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 17 steamer Clion that plies between Ba- you Sara and Baton Rouge stopped at the landing-, and I took passage for Baton Rouge, arriving there at 10 a. m. While awaiting the arrival of the boat at Port Hickey, I watched the ne- groes loading a flat boat with cotton seed in bags at the warehouse half way up the bluffs; stout black fellows were running to a chute and tossing in the bags one after another. These were caught as they reached the ground,and were swung up on the boat and piled neatly and with a rapidity that was bewildering and with the regularity of machinery. The negroes sang at their work— as all the negroes do when at any occupation that calls for uniform- ity of movement — each song usually with a refrain like this: "Oh, ho, Black Joe, don't let dat yaller girl fool you." It was noticeable that no one seemed to shirk, every one was busy. I had hardly reached the upper deck of the Clion when the clerk addressed me fa- miliarly by name, and inquired if Fa- ther Quinn was with me. It semed that he, the year before, had met us on the Paul Tulane, and like the rest, had been captivated by the irresistible sociability of the good father. The boat had a large number of passengers, and after eating an excellent breakfast on board, I sauntered Out on the for- ward deck and chatted with the officers and passengers. The fog was thick un- til we reached Elder's plantation, about six miles above Baton Rouge, and where the 25th had spent four or five days on our return from the first ad- vance on Port Hudson in March, 1863. Right off here is where the burning frigate Mississippi exploded in the ear- ly morning of April 15, 1863, after her unsuccessful attempt to pass the bat- teries. We reached Baton Rouge at 10 a. m. and having but four hours to re- main, utilized my time by calling on my old surviving acquaintance of war days, Mrs. Z. E. Hearcy, who is still an invalid, now confined to her bed, but cheerful as ever; then, a ride in the trolley car out to Magnolia cemetery and back by the road, thus having a view over the lake at the old Camp Grover and then a brief visit to the military school, at the old fort bar- racks, by the river side. A brief call on Col. Nicholson, who has been connected with the school for many years, and another on Major Boyd, who was tem- porarily in charge, and who was ex- tremely pressing with an invitation for me to pass a few days as his guest, Major Boyd served for some time on the staff of Gen. Dick Taylor. He re- lated to me Taylor's account of the campaign in April, 1863 (in which Boyd did not participate, he then being with the Confederate army in Virginia). Boyd was pleased to meet a Federal officer, iWho had participated in that campaign. Taylor, he said, was the most anxious man in the Southern Confederacy, when on April 13th as he was disputing Banks' advance at Bis- land, a few miles below Franklin he learned that Grover's division had landed by way of Grand lake, and held the road above him at Madame Por- ter's plantation. He had every reason to believe that Grover would at once make a stand at the lower junction of the new road with the old Bayou road, (only three or four miles above Frank- lin), or at the upper junction only a few miles further above; in either case, he would be hemmed in by armies in front and rear and escape would be next to impossible; on one hand were swamps reaching to the gulf, and on the other, was a deep bayou. Skirmishers were sent up the road who checked our army's march, so that it was evening before our brigade reached the Bayou road of Madame Porter's. This I will make mention of later on when I shall describe my visit to the battlefield of Irish Bend. Major Boyd informed me that I would find among the Southern people, little or no interest manifested in the 18 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. localities of xne battles and important events of the war of the Rebellion. The universal disposition being even among the surviving Confederate soldiers, to eradicate all remembrance of the war from their memories. I had noticed this sentiment on the occasion of my visit a year before to this neighbor- hood, and on reflection, I am satisfied that it is natural. Such places must have no attraction to those who must ever associate them with defeat, disas- ter and misery. There exists among the old home keeping Southerners a be- lief amounting in some cases to a con- viction that the Northern peopde, are filled with dislike to, and distrust of ev- ery Southerner, especially every sur- viving Confederate. This belief does not obtain among those who have had the opportunity of travel, or frequent association with Northern people, but then only a comparative few of these people have traveled much outside of their own localities since the war, for they have not had the means. The war impoverished them, and after all, are we ourselves appreciative of all the historical relics and localities that are around us? How many native born residents of Hartford can be found to- day who are able to direct a visitor to the graves of Hooker and Stone — or to the historical Webb and Dean man- sions in Wethersfield, the scene of the most important military council of the war of the Revolution— or to the hall where was held the famous "Hartford Convention" or to the spot where stood until a few weeks ago on Main street the house in which was born Com. James Ward, the first naval officer of superior rank killed in the war of the Rebellion. Humanity is much the same everywhere. The planters, and in fact all the peo- ple here, black and white are very in- dustrious the land is largely under cul- tivation, and the work is prosecuted systematically; cotton and cane are the principal crops, although above Baton Rouge, it is close to the limit of the cane country, which is wholly within a radius of 150 miles from New Orleans. One positive indication of prosperity and progress at Baton Rouge was the improvement in the Catholic church edifice. That has undergone a complete transformation — the roof has been raised, Cathedral glass windows have been inserted, a graceful spire now sur- mounts the church tower and the brick walls have been encased in durable stucco, inside and out. The rector's hou^e, however, is just as it was in 1863 — ^only 34 years older, and is sur- rounded by the same unpainted high board fence. BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 19 CHAPTER IV. I returned by rail to New Orleans, arriving at 6:30 p. m., and on the fol- lowing morning, March 5, I went to the Archbishop's chapel and was present at three masses all proceeding at once. The Papal Legate, Archbishop Marti- nelli, celebrated at the main altar. Bish- op Maerschetz at one of the side altars, and Chancellor Thebaud at another. Usually there are one or more masses in progress here every week morning, from 6 to 8 a. m., and the chapel is filled with worshippers coming and go- ing, chiefly working people, men, wo- men and children, black and white. Nearly all of the people of this city ob- serve the reverential custom of salut- ing as they are passing the churches, the men removing the hat, the women by a cour'tesy. A call at the Archbish- op's house about 10 a. m. disclosed, sitting in the upper hallway that opens to the outer gallery, the most distin- giJRhed gathering of ecclesiastics it had ever been my experience to meet social- ly, and also the most dem'ocratic group. Besides the Legate, were Archbishop El- der of Cincinnati, Bishops Byrne, Heshn, Dunn, Maerschetz, Dr. Rooker, of the University at Washington, and Father C'hadwick of the U. S. Navy, besides several e'cclesiastics of the household. My natural embarrassment at intrud- ing into this assemblage was dissipated by the cordiality with which I was re- ceived by every one, and I was warmly invited to sit down and be one of the party, but I excused myself, and joined my friend. Father DeBruycker, in a walk around the city, visiting among other places of interest, the Confeder- ate museum, where among other ob- jects of interest, I saw the standard of St. Mary's cannoniers which was cap- tured by the 13th Conn, at Irish Bend, La., April 14th, 1863, and was kept among our trophies at the State arsen- al at Hartford until 1887 when by reso- lution of the legislature, it was return- ed to the veterans of the old St. Mary's organization at Franklin, and by them, placed in this museum. During the day I had a call from the widow and daughter of one of the 25th Regiment, Jos. G. P. Summer of Co. A, who after the war, settled in New Orleans, and eventually died at Hous- ton, Texas, in 1896. This was the first time the lady had ever met a comrade of her husband's regiment. On Saturday, March 6th, I set out for the Teche country, taking the ferry at the foot of Esplenade street. The crowds that had filled New Orleans during carnival week, were returning to their homes, and the big railroad ferryboat was filled with passengers, and on reaching Algiers they made a mad rush for the cars. It was my luck to get a seat with a veteran Fed- eral soldier, formerly of the U. S. Col. Vols, who at once recognized my M O. L. L. U. S. button, and gave me a dose of garrulity that didn't have a pause till we reached La Fouche crossing, near Thibodeaux. He gave me the his- tory of his life, before, during and since the war, in which he had served on both sides, and stuck at last to the side from which he now draws a pen- sion. I was immensely relieved when he changed cars for Houma. Bayou 20 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. Des Allemands, 30 miles or so west of New Orleans, spreads out just above the crossing into a lakelet, dotted with islands, which are occupied by tiny- cottages, that give the place the look of a Lilliputian fairyland. The water of the bayou and all the bayous are surface covered with the water hyacinth, a most beautiful aquatic plant that was unknown here a dozen years ago, and was introduced by a lady who brought home some spe- cimens from their native habitation, and from these they have propagated in such profusion that they have liter- ally filled the streams, and have be- come such an obstruction to naviga- tion that the legislature has been com- pelled to enact stringent statutes pro- viding for its extermination. The beau- tiful lily lies on the surface, its long tendrilled root hangs down two or more feet in the water, each termi- nated by a bulb and so closely massed that they in many places cover the bayou surface from shore to shore like a great flowered carpet, and give no indication to the unwary rambler on the bank that a step more to the right or left may plunge him into ten feet of water. This tough vegetable tangles the paddle wheels of the steamers, and effectually stops the smaller ones. The surface is sufficiently firm for the moc- casin and smaller hydra, to wiggle along in the sunlight without smking. I saw no moccasins as it was early in the season, but the hyacinths were there and a beautiful sight they were. La Fourche crossing and Bayou Boeuf looked no different from what they did a year ago. My trip was rendered very pleasant from La Fourche crossing, where my colored veteran left the train, by conversation wath a Belgian priest, whose parish was up in the Teche country; there were also two young Dominican fathers — the Revs. Knapp and Gill, who were going to commence a mission next day at New Iberia. Rev. Knapp w^as an English- man and Rev. Gill was of Irish descent born in Canada, where both priests now belong. They had been but a few weeks in Louisiana, yet they aston- ished me at the fullness of their knowl- edge of the country, with which they appeared thoroughly familiar. They knevv' its geography, its history, its cli- mate, products, industries, manufac- tures, soil and its people, as well as if they had lived there all their lives. I now begin to understand St. Paul when he said that he had become all things to all men, that he might save all. These priests came here and learned, that they might be able to teach. One peculiarity in the garb of the wo- men impressed me. All over the state, the white women of the poorer class, wear habitually garments of black, with black short capes and black sun bon- nets, and this habit gives an air of re- spectability to even the poorest people. You will see plenty of evidences of pov- erty-, but seldom of untidyness, slack- ness or slovenliness that is so offensive to the eye. In the city and in the coun- try it is the same; the character "lady" seems imprinted on every feminine form you meet. At noon our train rolled over the bridge that spans the mighty Atchafalaya, between old Ber- wick and Brashear, now called Morgan CityJnquiring of the railroad officials,! learned that the stream here ranges from one hundred and ten to one hun- dred and twenty feet in depth, and the soft muddy bottom made it essential that the piling should be over two hun- dred feet in length — that is, five and six piles should be driven, one spliced on the top of the next lower, and so on, until firm bottom is reached. On rolled our train, here and there in sight of the Teche Bayou through Patterson, now a flourishing village, and through Calu- met and the battle field of Bislands plantation, where the massive live oaks shade the graves of so many of the boys of the blue and gray w^ho fell on April 13th, 1863, and on to Franklin, BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 21 which place I reached at 1:30 p. m. FroTn the car window I espied my old friend, Mr. William J. Brady, the liv- eryman. I at once climbed into his om- nibus and asked to be driven to O'Neil's hotel — "The Emmet" — where everybody from the proprietor to the bootblack recognized me, welcomed me, and in- quired for Father Quinn. The weather looked threatening-, the clouds hung low 'and black, and the prospect of get- ting to Irish Bend was very poor. I ordered dinner, and requested Brady to come with a team at 4 p. m. if the rain held off. Sitting at the dining- room window, I looked down at the Bayou Teche, on whose bank were the boilers of the old "Queen of the West" that had been lying at the bottom of Grand Lake from April 14th, 1863, until November, 1895, when the government had caused them to be raised and re- moved, as they had become a serious obstacle to navigation, having sunk in the mud until they were below the sur- face a;t low water. Between three and four o'clock, Br'ady appeared with a buggy and I concluded to risk the ■weather and we started for Irish Bend. By the time we were passing Senator Caffery's residence, it was evident there had been rain, the mud was soft and deep, and we progressed slowly. The spare timber that had skirted the ro'ad a year before, had all disappeared, and I looked in vain for the cut-off load by which General Dick Taylor had escaped with his army, while he with a detach- ment was making his desperate and successful attempt to hold Grover's di- vision from crossing through the woods that existed right here in 1863. I remarked to Brady that we must now be where the woods were then. Brady is a man not over thirty or thirty-three years old, and he could give me no en- lightenment, and so I failed to discov- er the cut-off road. The mud, our slow progress, the closed carriage, and the gathering mist all confused me, but as we proceeded and found a broad cane field on my left, I announced to him that this was the field of Irish Bend, and my judgment was confirmed when a few rods further on our road turned abruptly to the north. A little ways above the angle was a store, I recog- nized as the same one where Colonel O'Neil and I stopped a year ago, and which was then kept by a young man from Georgia. We enquired for him and found that he had sold out but a few months before, and a stranger to the country was proprietor. A motley crowd of blacks and whites filled the inevitable piazza, and from them I asked the location of the old sugar mill in the opposite field. Imagine my con- sternation when I was told that no su- gar mill ever existed there. In vain I asserted that I had been there the previous year and had seen its ruins. The crowd insisted that it must have been further up the road; not a man in the party had ever heard of any sugar mill there. A negro of 'sixty years of age came by on horseback, and I en- quired of him. "He had always lived here; was born here, never no sugar mill here, but there ha.d been one half a mile up the road, the old Bellevue mill." I asked about the battle. "Oh! that was fought all around here." Can it be, said I, that my senses are mock- ing me? I know this is the place, but anyway I will drive on to "Bellevue." and so our wearied horse dragged the carriage on through the deep Louisi- ana mud. A mile further on we reached what was called "Bellevue," but this was on the east side of the road, and just beyond appeared through the trees the facade of a stately mansion. I en- quired what place this was, and was answered that it was formerly "Mad- ame Porter's plantation." "Is there a bridge here over the Bayou?" "No, there is one half a mile below." I in- sisted that there had been a bridge in 1S63 just north of this mansion, and one of the old negroes admitted that some of the piling of that old bridge was yet BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. Standing. Turning around I said to Brady, I have been right all the time; we fought that battle of Irish Bend a good mile and more below Madame Porter's mansion. I remembered that we crossed the Bayou just before dusk on April 13th, 1863, having marched over from Hutchin's landing on Grand Lake during the day, and we encamped in the field across the road opposite to Madame Porter's and broke camp at daybreak April 14th, and the 25th Con- necticut led the march down through the field, on the right of the ro'ad. Our right wing deployed as skirmish- ers with Colonel Bissell at the head, and the left wing marching battalion front, and nearer the road. Brady now turned our wearied horse to the south, and when we reached the store we stopped and alighted. All Louisiana cannot change my opinion now— right here is where we changed front, for- ward on first company, and called in our skirmishers, and facing the west marched down to that tall green wall of trees, with its crooked rail fence backed by tangled evergreens at its base, where Dick Taylor's Louisiana and Texas troops awaited us. As we alighted from the carriage, a young man was coming out of the field, and Brady addressed 'him as Tom, and introduced him to me as Thomas B. Mattingly, son of the owner of the plaritation. Tom had been hero only a few years; he had heard that a battle had been fought somewhere around here, he never knew precisely where, and he said he would give a good deal to know the ex'act location. "Well, Tom," I said, "just come back into the field with me, and I will convince you that this is the very spot where one of the fiercest fights of the whole war was fought, in proportion to the men en- gaged." Thirty rods back from the road, just in the rear of the immense stables, a wide deep ditch commenced, extending to the west; on its .south bank was a line of brick foundation, extending 50 to 60 feet. '"Now, Tom," s'aid i, "that is the north foundation wall of the old sugar mill, that was used at the battle as a hospital. Go over the grounds south of this ditch and you will find it filled with the ruins of the old sugar mill." "We went over, and the area of the old sugar mill was distinctly marked by the ruined and crumbling brick, covering a quadrangle of about 50x150 feet and interspersed here and there were old bolts, nuts, and bits of iron rods rusted almost to dust. A few rods to the southwest w"as the dried bed of an old sugar mill pond, which Tom said he had noticed, but had never before thought of, how or why it was there. I showed him the battle line oc- cupied by our brigade, its r'ight being about on this ditch, and its left cross- ing the road over to the Bayou, and I showed bim just Where the line was that in 1863 separated the woods from the cane field. Tom said he had often noticed in plowing while it was clear soil this side, east of the line I pointed, beyond it he had eneounxered so many stumps. Now it was evident to him that west of the line was forest land, long after the east was cultivated. "Well," he s'aid, "I wouldn't have missed your being here to-day, for a great many dollars, for I always want- ed to know the location of the battle you speak of, and no one here was ever able to tell me." The fact is, that most of these people are new comers and the natives are all too young to know much about it, and anyway, the people don't take much interest in matters like this, but, said he, "I now have the satisfac- tion of knowing that if any visitor comes here I can point out the place with certainty, and can give them my authority— a federal officer from Con- necticut, who was in the battle, and the confirmatory evidence of the ruins of the old mill that I myself have seen." ,It was dark when I left the field, I was glad that I had visited it, aside BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. 23 from, the matter of sentiment, for I be- lieve that this memorandum of mine may decide the question of its location many years hence, when it may have become a matter of importance. I know that very few of our Federal of- ficers who were at that battle have re- visited the place, and few of those who did have taken any p'ains to make it a matter of record. It was 7:30 p. m. when we returned to Franklin. After supper, I found a par- lor full of people, awaiting- me. Colo- nel O'Nell and his wife and family, my friends of a year ag^o, Captain Van Schouler and his wife, with several oth- ers. Of course, everybody's first en- quiry was for Father Quinn, and re- grets at his absence were numerous and sincere. After a pleas'ant evening and a re- freshing night's sleep, I arose next morning (Sunday, March 7th) and found a genuine Louisiana rain storm in full force, which continued until late in the afternoon. After mass, 1 made a call on Father Bri and his niece and 'housekeeper. Miss Marie, both of whom were delighted to see their old ac- quaintance from Connecticut. I took dinner with Colonel O'Neil, and spent a pleasant hour at the house of his son- in-law. Judge Clark. I found on re- turning to the hotel an invitation from Mr. Brady and his wife to spend the evening with them. Upon reaching his house, I found a large party of young ladies and gentlemen, including three charming misses who had been my fel- low travelers from New Orleans to Franklin the previous day, and who were sisters of Mrs. Brady. Her broth- er was also there, the present mayor of Franklin. Almost everyone of the par- ty was an accomplished musician, and the ladies were all excellent singers. Throug"hout the state I 'had noticed the fact that a large proportion of the wo- men I met were good musicians. It is a very poor residence indeed here that has not a piano, and there are very rew young women, even of the very poor families, who have not spent some time as pupils in the convent schools. The family of Mayor Tarlton are grandchil- dren of the noted novelist, Madame De La Housse, whose works, written in French, are well known and popular throughout Louisiana. On Monday, March 8, I spent the forenoon in strolling throug^h the town, and calling- upon some of my acquaint- ance's. I found the proprietor of the store on the Bayou wharf. Captain De La Housse, who was a Coniederate cav- alryman and had participated in the battle of Irish Bend, "w^hich fact was enough to keep him and me in extend- ed reminiscences, with a good sized au- dience. One of the youngsters pres- en't remarked that he hoped some day our country would g-et into war with some foreig-n power and that he would like to take part. Captain De La Housse said: "Well, boy I once felt and talked as you do, but I have gotten over it. I have seen lots of others who felt so then, but they feel as I do now, and you will feel the same way if you live long enoug*h. I have seen all the war I want. It's much ple'asanter to see the major here in my store than it was 'to meet him and 'his comrades as we did thirty odd years ago, up above here three or four miles." Every vete- ran of that Tec'he campaign that I met, and I met very many, spoke of it without any enthusiasm, but rather like men relating a wearying, toilsome and unpleasant experience. The field of Irish Bend is seldom revisited by any of its survivors. There are many living at Franklin, and who have always lived there, who could not probably point out the exact field to-day. T'hey don't care even to think of their old army experi- ence, which gave them little glory, but neither profit nor pleasure. A hurried visit to Captain Schouler and his wife, another Colonel O'Neil's family, and to Father Bri, a hurried inspection of the immense sugar mill at C.4 BATTLE FIELDS REVISITED. Senator Caffery's place on the northern edge of Franklin, where Colonel O'Neil and I received the very kindest atten- tion from Mr. Forsythe. the superin- tendent, and 1:30 p. m. found me speed- ing northward for New Iberia with Fa- ther Bri as mj' seatmate as far as Jen- nerette, a growing place of about 2,000 inhabitants, and on the line of our march northward from Irish Bend thir- ty-four years ago, and near to the fa- mous Sorel plantation. The sugar field continues to occupy the land on every side. The continuity of level surface begins to be broken. Here and there are ravines leading towards the small- er bayous, tributaries of the Teche. The hedges of Cherokee Rose and yellow jasmine stretch out longer and they are wider at the base and higher than ne-arer Franklin and the Gulf. CHAPTER V. At 2:27 p. m. we reached New Iberia, Which has spread out on every side and rooks vastly different from the lit- tle hamlet at which our regiment halt- ed for a night in April, 1863, when we were making forced marches to over- take General Dick Taylor. The village now ex?tends across to the east side of the Teche, over which are convenient bridges. At the docks were large steamers, that looked strange in this narow thread of a stream. The town tells of enterprise in every detail. New buildings are going up in every street. The Catholic church, as everywhere else in Louisiana, is the finest ecclesi- astical edifice in the place. I stopped at the "Alma," a sort of a connecting link in architecture between the coloni- al and modern style, standing back a hundred feet or so from the main street, and having its cool galleries projecting from every story, as soon as my grip was in my room, I set out and visited the office of the Enterprise, a weekly paper, edited by J. B. Law- ton, who took great pleasure in giving me all possible information, especially ■on learning that I had formerly cam- paigned in this region. The industr'ies in the neighbor