Snm\

Lothf^op Publishing (ompa^y

B0.5TOI4.

THE LIBRARY OF THE

UNIVERSITY OF

NORTH CAROLINA

ENDOWED BY THE

DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC

SOCIETIES

THE UNIVERSITY OF

NORTH CAROLINA

LIBRARY

THE WILMER COLLECTION

OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS

PRESENTED BY

RICHARD H. WILMER, JR.

Digitized by the Internet Archive

in 2010 with funding from

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

http://www.archive.org/details/boytrooperwithshOOalle

A BOY TROOPER

WITH SHERIDAN

STANTON P. ALLEN

FIRST MASSACHUSETTS CAVALRY

ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON
LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY

STANTON P. AI.LEN.

D. LOTHROP COMPANY.

LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY.

Xorujoob }9rC5s :
Berwick k Smith. Norwood. Mass.. V.S.I

A BOY TROOPER WITH SHERIDAN

CHAPTER I.

More than He Bargained for — The War Fever and How it
Affeeted the Boys — A Disbanded Cavalryman — Going to
Sclwcl in Uniform — Cousin Tom from Shi/oh ■ — Running
Away to Enlist — The Draft — In the Griswold Cavalry —
Habeas Corpitsed.

N the local columns of the Troy (N. Y.)
Daily Times of September I, 1S63, the
following news item was published :

MORE THAN HE BARGAINED FOR.

"A few days ago one Stanton P. Allen of Berlin, en-
listed in Capt. Boutelle's company of the twenty-first (Gris-
wold) cavalry. We are not informed whether it was Stanton's bearing the same
name as the Secretary of War, or his mature cast of countenance that caused him
to be accepted ; for he was regarded as nineteen years of age, while, in reality,
but fourteen summers had passed over his youthful, but ambitious brow. Stan-
ton received a portion of his bounty and invested himself in one of those ' neat,
but not gaudy' yellow and blue suits that constitute the uniform of the Griswold
boys. A few days intervened. Stanton's ' patients, ' on the vine-clad hills of Ber-
lin, heard that their darling boy had ' gone for a sojer.' Their emotions were
indescribable. 'So young and yet so valiant,' thought his female relatives.
' How can I get him out ? ' was the more practical query of his papa. The ways

550308

DOWN IN DIXIE.

and means were soon discovered. A writ of habeas corpus was procured from
Judge Robertson, and as the proof was clear that Stanton was only fourteen years
old, lie was duly discharged from the service of the United States. But the end
was not yet. A warrant was issued for the recruit, charging him with obtaining
bounty and uniform under false pretenses, and a release from the military service
proved only a transfer to the civil power. Stanton found that he had made a poor
exchange of ' situations,' and last evening gave bail before Judge Robertson in
the sum of five hundred dollars."

In order that the correctness of history may not be
questioned, the subject of the above deems it expedient
to place on record an outline of the circumstances lead-
ing up to the incident related by the Times.

At the breaking out of the war my father resided in
Berlin, N. Y., on the Brimmer farm, three miles or so
from the village. I was twelve years old, but larger
than many lads of sixteen. I was attacked by the war
fever as soon as the news that Fort Sumter had been
fired on reached the Brimmer farm. Nathaniel Bass
worked for my father that year. The war fever got hold
of Nat after haying was over, and one night along in the
latter part of August, he said to me :

'• I'm going to war."

" You don't mean it, Nat ? "

"Yes, I do. The fall's work won't last long, and
they say they're paying thirteen dollars a month and
found for soldiers. That's better'n doing chores for
your board."

" If you do go I'll run away and enlist."

" No ; you're too young to go to war. You must

DOWN IN DIXIE.

wait till you're an able-bodied man — that's what the
bills call for."

" O, dear! I'm afraid you'll whip all the rebels
before I can get there."

I cried myself to sleep that night.

How I envied Nat when he came home on a three
days' furlough clad in a full suit of cavalry uniform ! He
enlisted September 20, 1S61, in the Second New York
cavalry. The regiment was known as the Northern
Black-horse cavalry. Nat allowed me to try on his
jacket, and I strutted about in it for an hour or so. I
felt that even in wearing it for a short time I was doing
something toward whipping the Southerners. But
Bass's furlough came to an end, and he returned to his
regiment.

Nat came back in time to help us plant in the spring
of 1862. The regiment went as far as Camp Stoneman,
near Washington, where it remained in winter quarters.
It was not accepted by the United States Government,
and was never mounted. The reason given was that
the Government had more cavalry than it could handle,
and the Northern Black-horse cavalry was disbanded.
The regiment was raised by Colonel Andrew J. Morri-
son, who subsequently served with distinction at the head
of a brigade.

Nat came home " chock-full " of war stories. He was
just as much a hero in my estimation as he would have

DOWN IN DIXIE.

been if the rebels had shot him all to pieces. I never
tired of listening to his yarns about the experiences of
the regiment at Camp Stoneman. He had not seen a
rebel, dead or alive, but that was not his fault. Nat
was something of a singer, and he had a song describing
the adventures of his regiment. The soldiers were re-
ferred to as " rats." I recall one verse and the chorus :

" The rats they were mustered,

And then they were paid ;
' And now,' says Col. Morrison,
' We'll have a dress parade.'
Lally boo !
Lally boo, oo, oo,
Lally bang, bang, bang,
Lally boo, oo, oo,
Lally bang ! "

I would join in the chorus, and although I did not
understand the sentiment — if there was any in the song
— I was ready to adopt it as a national hymn.

I was the proudest boy in the Brimmer district
at the opening of school the next winter. I fairly
"paralyzed" the teacher, George Powell, and all the
scholars, when I marched in wearing Nat's cavalry
jacket and forage cap. He had made me a present of
them. I was the lion of the day. The jacket fitted me
like a sentry-box, but the girls voted the rig " perfectly
lovely." Half a dozen big boys threatened to punch
my eyes out if I did not " leave that ugly old jacket at
home." I enjoved the notoriety, and continued to wear

DOWN IN DIXIE.

the jacket. But one day Jim Duffy, a boy who worked
for Tom Jones, came into the school with an artillery
jacket on. It was of the same pattern as the jacket I
wore, but had red trimmings in place of yellow. The
girls decided that Jim's jacket was the prettier. I made
up my mind to challenge Jim at the afternoon recess,
but my anger moderated as I heard one of the small
girls remark :

" But Jim ain't got no sojer cap, so he ain't no real
sojer — he's only a make-b'lief."

"Sure enough!" chorused the girls.

Then I expected Duffy to challenge me, but he did
not, and there was no fight.

That same winter Thomas Torrey of Williamstown
came to our house visiting. Tom was one of the first
to respond to the call for volunteers to put down the
rebellion. He was in the Western army, and fought
under Grant at Shiloh. He received a wound in the
second day's fight, May 7, 1862, that crippled him for
life. He had his right arm extended to ram home a
cartridge, when a rebel bullet struck him in the wrist.
The ball shattered the bone of the forearm and sped on
into the shoulder, which it disabled. Tom's good right
arm was useless forever after.

Tom was a better singer than Bass, and as we
claimed him as our cousin, it seemed as if our family
had already shed blood to put down the rebellion.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

While the wounded soldier remained at our house and
told war stories and sang the patriotic songs of. the day,
my enthusiasm was kept at one hundred and twenty
degrees in the shade. I made up my mind that I would
go to war or " bust a blood vessel." I assisted in dress-
ing Tom's shattered arm once or twice, but even that
did not quench the patriotic fire that had been kindled
in my breast by Bass's war stories and fanned almost
into a conflagration by Tom's recital of his experiences
in actual combat.

I discarded Nat's "Lallv boo"' and transferred my
allegiance to a stirring: son^ suns; bv Tom :

" At Pittsburg Landing

Our troops fought very hard ;
They killed old Johnston

And conquered Beauregard.

" Hoist up the flag;

Long may it wave
Over the Union boys,

So noble and so brave."

I laid awake nights and studied up plans to go to
Pittsburg Landing and run a bayonet through the rebel
who shot " Cousin Tom."

The summer of 1S62 was a very trying time. Char-
ley Taylor of Berlin, opened a recruiting office in the
village and enlisted men for Company B, One hundred
and twenty-fifth New York volunteers. I wanted to go,
but when I suggested it to my father he remarked :

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" They don't take boys who can't hoe a man's row.
You'll have to wait five or six years."

When the Berlin boys came home on furlough from
Troy, to show themselves in their new uniforms and
bid their friends good-by, it seemed to me that my
chances of reaching the front in time to help put down
the rebellion, were slim indeed. I reasoned that if Nat
Bass could have driven the rebels into Richmond alone
— as he said he could have done if he had been given
an opportunity — the war would be brought to a speedy
close when Company B was turned loose upon the Con-
federates in Virginia. It seemed that nearly everybody
was going in Company B except Bass and I. I urged
Nat to go, but he said it would be considered " small
potatoes for a man who had served in the cavalry to re-
enlist in the infantry." If I had not overlooked the
fact that Nat had never straddled a horse during his six
months' service in Col. Morrison's regiment, I might
have questioned the consistency of Bass's position.

The One hundred and twenty-fifth left Troy Satur-
day, August 30, 1S62, and on the same day the second
battle of Bull Run was fought, resulting in the retreat
of the Union Army into the fortifications around
Washington.

" I told you so," said Bass, when the news of the
battle reached Berlin. " The boys in Company B will
have their hands full. Thev will reach the front in

DOWN IN DIXIE.

time to take part in this fall's campaign. I shall wait
till next summer, and then if there's a call for another
cavalry regiment to fight the rebels, I'll go down and
help whip "em some more."

When the news of Grant's glorious capture of Vicks-
burg, and Meade's splendid victory at Gettysburg, was
received in Berlin, I made up my mind that the crisis
had arrived. I said to Bass :

" Nat, our time's come."

" How so ? "

"We've waited a year, and they've called for another
regiment of cavalry."

" Then I believe I'll go."

"So'll I."

" Where's the regiment being raised ? "

" In Troy."

" Will your father let you go ? "

" Of course not — don't say a word to him. But I
tell you, Nat, I'm going. The Union armies are knock-
ing the life out of the rebels east and west, and it's
now or never. I can't stand it any longer. I'm going
to war."

I was only a boy — born February 20, 1S49 — but
thanks to an iron constitution, splendid health and a
vigorous training in farm work, I had developed into
a lad who would pass muster for nineteen almost
anywhere.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Bass got away from me. My father drove to Troy
with Nat, who enlisted August 7, in Company E, of the
Griswold cavalry. The regiment was taken to the front
and into active service by the late General William
B. Tibbits of Troy.

About the first of August a circus pitched its
tents in Berlin. Everybody went to the show. While
the acrobats were vaulting about in the ring, a lad in
a cavalry uniform entered the tent and took a seat not
far from where I was sitting. The circus was a tame
affair to me after that. A live elephant was nowhere
when a boy in blue was around.

" Who's that soldier ? " I asked my best girl.

" That's Henry Tracy ; I wish he'd look this way.
He's too sweet for anything."

" Where's he from ? "

" Off the mountain, from the Dutch settlement near
the Dyken pond., Isn't he lovely! What a nobby
suit ! "

When the circus was out, I managed to secure an
interview with the " bold sojer boy," who informed me
that he was in the same camp with Bass at Troy.

" How old are you ? " I asked Tracy.

" I'm just eighteen," he answered, with a wink that
gave me to understand that I was not to accept the
statement as a positive fact.

" Do you think they'd take me ? "

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Certainly ; you're more'n eighteen."

" When are you going back ? "

"Shall start to-night. Think you'll go along? "

" Yes ; if you really think they'll take me."

" I'm sure they will ; you just let me manage the
thing for you."

" All right ; I'm with you."

I went with Tracy that night — after he had seen
his girl home. As we climbed the steep mountain, I
expected every minute to hear the footsteps of a brigade
of relatives in pursuit. We reached the Tracy domicile
about midnight, and went to bed. I could not sleep.
The frogs in the pond near the house kept up a loud
chorus, led by a bull-frog with a deep bass voice. I had
heard the frogs on other occasions when fishing in the
mountain lakes, and the boys agreed that the burden of
the frog chorus was :

You'd better go round !
You'd better go round I

We'll bite your bait off !

Somehow the chorus seemed that night to have
been changed. As I lay there and listened for the
sound of my father's wagon, the frogs sang after this
fashion :

You'd better go home 1
You'd better go home !

They'll shoot your head off !

They'll shoot your head off!

FIRST FNLISTMENT.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

And, oh! how that old bull-frog with the bass voice
came in on the chorus :

They'll shoot your head off ! "

We got up at daylight, and walked over to the plank
road and waited for the stage from Berlin to come
along, en route to Troy. When the vehicle came in
sight, I hid in the bushes until Tracy could reconnoiter
and ascertain if my father was on board. He gave a
signal that the coast was clear, and we took passage for
the city.

"You're Alex Allen's boy?" the driver — Frank
Maxon — said, as we took seats in the stage.

"What about it?"

" I heard 'em say at the post-office this morning that
you'd run away."

" False report," said Tracy ; " he's just going to Troy
to bid me good-by."

" Well, he must be struck on you, as they say he
never set eyes on you till yesterday."

The stage rattled into Troy about half-past ten
o'clock. There was considerable excitement in the city
over the draft. Soldiers were camped in the court-house
yard and elsewhere. They were Michigan regiments, I
think. There was a section of artillery in the yard of
the hotel above the tunnel. I could not understand how
it was that the Government was obliged to resort to a

DOWN IN DIXIE.

draft to secure soldiers. To me it seemed that an able-
bodied man who would not volunteer to put down the
rebellion, was pretty " small potatoes."

But I was only a boy. Older persons did not look
at it in the same light as I did. By the way, the draft
euchred our family out of three hundred dollars. When
I enlisted in the First Massachusetts, after the failure of
my plan to reach Dixie in the Griswold cavalry, I was
paid three hundred dollars bounty. I sent it home to
my father. The draft "scooped him in," and the Gov-
ernment got the three hundred dollars back, that being
the sum the drafted men were called on to pay to secure
exemption.

Tracy escorted me to Washington Square, where
there were several tents in which recruiting officers
were enlisting men for the Griswold cavalry. A bounty
of two dollars was paid to each person bringing in a re-
cruit. Tracy sold me to a sergeant named Cole for two
dollars, but he divided the money with me on the way
to camp. As we entered the tent where Sergeant Cole
was sitting, Tracy said :

" This young man wants to enlist, Sergeant."

" All right, my boy ; how old are you — nineteen,
I suppose ? "

" Of course he's nineteen," said Tracy.

I did not contradict what my soldier friend had said,
and the sergeant made out my enlistment papers, Tracy

DOWN IN DIXIE.

making all the responses for me as to age. After I had
been "sworn in" for three years, or during the war, I
was paid ten dollars bounty. Then we went up to the
barracks, and I was turned over to the first sergeant of
Captain George V. Boutelle's company. I drew my
uniform that night. The trousers had to be cut off top
and bottom. The jacket was large enough for an over-
coat. The army shirt scratched my back — but what is
the use of reviving dead issues !

One day orders came for Capt. Boutelle's company
to " fall in for muster." The line was formed down
near the gate. I was in the rear rank on the left. The
mustering officer stood in front of the company with the
roll in his hand. Just at this time, my father with a
deputy sheriff arrived with the habeas corptis, which was
served on Capt. Boutelle, and I was ordered to " fall out."

Then we went to the city, to the office of Honorable
Gilbert Robertson, Jr., provost judge, and after due in-
quiry had been made as to " the cause of detention by
the said Capt. Boutelle of the said Stanton P. Allen," the
latter "said " was declared to be discharged from Uncle
Sam's service. My father refunded the ten dollars
bounty, and offered to return the uniform, but Capt.
Boutelle refused to accept the clothes, charging that I
had obtained property from the Government under false
pretenses. Under that charge I was held in five hun-
dred dollars bail, as stated in the Times, but the court

DOWN IN DIXIE.

remarked to my father that " that'll be the end of it,
probably, as the captain will be ordered to the front,
and there will be no one here to prosecute the case."

As we were leaving Judge Robertson's office, a
policeman arrested me. He marched me toward the
jail. Pointing to the roof of the prison he said :

" My son, I'm sorry for you."

" What are you going to do with me ? " I asked.

" Put you in jail."

"What for?"

" Defrauding the Government. But I'm sorry to see
you go to jail. They may keep you there for life.
They'll keep you there till the war is over, any way, for
people are so busy with the war that they can't stop to
try cases of this kind. You are charged with getting
into the army without your father's consent. Maybe
they won't hang you, but it'll go hard with you, sure.
I don't want to see you die in prison. If I thought you'd
go home and not run away again, I'd let you escape."

That was enough. I double-quicked it up the street
and hid in the hotel barn where my father's team was
until he came along. I was ready to go home with him.
I did not know at that time that the arrest, after I had
been bailed, was a put-up job. It was intended to
frighten me. And it worked to a charm. It was a
regular Bull Run affair.

CHAPTER II.

The War Fever Again — Going to a Shooting Match — Over the
Mountains to Enlist — A Question of Age — Sent to Camp
Meigs — The Recruit and the Corporal — The Trooper's Out-
fit — A Cartload of Military Traps — Paraded for Inspection
— An Officer who Had Been through the Mill.

RETURNED to Berlin very much dis-
couraged. There had not been any-
thing pleasant about our camp life in
Troy — the food was poorly cooked, the
camp discipline was on the go-as-you-
please order at first, and sleeping on a
hard bunk was not calculated to inspire
patriotism in lads who had always enjoyed the luxury of
a feather bed. Yet the thought that I was a Union
soldier, and a Griswold cavalryman to boot, had acted
as an offset to the hardships of camp life, and after
my return home the " war fever " set in again. The
relapse was more difficult to prescribe for than the first
attack. The desire to reach the front was stimulated

DOWN IN DIXIE.

by the taunts of the wiseacres about the village who
would bear down on me whenever I chanced to be in
their presence, as follows :

" Nice soldier, you are ! "

" How do the rebels look ? "

" Sent for your father to come and get you, they
say."

" Did they offer you a commission as jigadier
brindle ? "

" When do you start again ? "

Quite a number of the boys about the village and
from the back hollows interviewed me now and then in
respect of my army experience. I was a veteran in their
estimation. After several conferences, a company of
"minute-men" was organized. We started with three
members — Irving Waterman, Giles Taylor and myself.
I was elected captain, Waterman first lieutenant and
Taylor second lieutenant. We could not get any of
the other boys to join as privates. They all wanted to
be officers, so we secured no recruits. It was decided
that we would run awav and enlist at the first opportu-
nity. Tavlor was considerable of a "boy" as compared
with Waterman and myself, as he was married and a
legal voter. Waterman was nearly two years my senior,
but as I had " been to war " they insisted that I should
take the lead and they would follow.

We finally fixed upon Thanksgiving Day in Novem-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

ber, 1863, as the time to start for Dixie. Waterman
had scouted over around Williamstown, and he came
back with the report that two Williams College stu-
dents were raising a company of cavalry. Thanks°iv-
ing morning I informed my mother that I was going to
a shooting match. It proved to be more of a shooting
match than I expected. The minute-men met at a place
that had been selected, and started for Dixie.

At the Mansion House, Williamstown, we introduced
ourselves to Lieutenant Edward Payson Hopkins, son
of a Williams College professor. The lieutenant was
helping his cousin, Amos L. Hopkins, who had been
commissioned lieutenant and who expected to be a cap-
tain, to raise a company.

"As soon as he secures his quota, I shall enlist for
myself," said the lieutenant, who added, that we could
put our names clown on his roll and he would go with
us to North Adams, at which place we could take cars
for Pittsfield, where Captain Hopkins's recruiting office
was located. We rode to North Adams in a wa«on
owned by Professor Hopkins and which was pressed
into service for the occasion by the professor's soldier
son. The lieutenant handled the lines and the whip, he
and I occupying the seat, and Taylor and W'aterman
sat on a board placed across the wagon behind.

At North Adams we were taken into an office where
we were examined by the town war committee.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

One of the committee was Quinn Robinson, a prom-
inent citizen. I was calied before the committee
first, and having been through the mill before, I man-
aged to satisfy the committee that I was qualified to
wear a cavalry uniform and draw full rations. I remem-
ber that in canvassing the question of age — or rather
what we should say on that subject — we had agreed to
state that we were twenty-one. I was not fifteen until
the next February. The examiners did not question
my age.

" We won't say twenty-one years," said Waterman,
" and so we won't lie about it."

After I had been under fire for some time I was told
to step aside, and Waterman was brought before the
examiners.

" He looks too young," said Mr. Robinson to Lieu-
tenant Hopkins.

" Well, question him," suggested the lieutenant.

" How old are you? " inquired the committee man.

" Twenty-one, sir," replied Waterman.

" When were you twenty-one ? "

" Last week."

" I think you're stretching it a little."

"No, sir; I'm older than Allen, who has just been
taken in."

" I guess not; you may go out in the other room by
the stove and think it over."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Our married man Taylor was next called in.

"We can't take you," said Robinson.

" What's matter ? " exclaimed Giles.

" You're not old enough."

" How old've I got to be ? "

" Twenty-one, unless you get the consent of your
parents."

" Taylor's a married man," I whispered to Lieuten-
ant Hopkins.

" Don't tell that, or he'll be asked to get the consent
of his wife," said the lieutenant, also in a whisper.

The committee contended that Taylor would not fill
the bill. W T aterman was recalled, and Mr. Robinson
said:

" Well, you've had time to think it over. Now how
old are you ? "

" Twenty-one, last week."

" I can't hardly swallow that."

"See here, Mr. Ouinn" (I had not heard the com-
mittee man's other name then), I interrupted. " We
three have come together to enlist. You have said that
I can go. Taylor may be a trifle under age, but what of
it ? If you don't take the three of us none of us will go."

There was more talk of the same kind, but finally the
war .committee decided to send us on to Pittsfield and
let the recruiting authorities of that place settle the
question of Taylor and Waterman's eligibility.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

There was no trouble at Pittsfield, and we were for-
warded to Boston in company with several other
recruits. The rendezvous was at Camp Meigs in Read-
ville, ten miles or so below the city. Arriving at the
camp we were marched to the barracks of Company I,
Third Battalion, First Massachusetts cavalry, to which
company we had been assigned.

When we entered the barracks we were greeted with
cries of " fresh fish," etc., by the " old soldiers," some of
whom had reached camp only a few days before our ar-
rival. We accepted the situation, and were ready as
soon as we had drawn our uniforms to join in similar
greetings to later arrivals. The barracks were one-
story board buildings. They would shed rain, but the
wind made itself at home inside the structures when
there was a storm, so there was plenty of ventilation.
The bunks were double-deckers, arranged for two
soldiers in each berth.

" I'm not going to sleep in that apple bin without
you give me a bed," said Taylor to the corporal who
pointed out our bunks.

" Young man, do you know who you're speaking
to ? " thundered the corporal.

" No ; you may be the general or the colonel or noth-
ing but a corporal " —

"' Nothing but a corporal ! ' I'll give you to under-
stand that a corporal in the First Massachusetts cavalry

DOWX IN DIXIE.

is not to be insulted. You have no right to speak to me
without permission. I'll put you in the guard house
and prefer charges against you."

" See here," said Taylor. " Don't you fool with me.
If you do I'll cuff you."

" Mutiny in the barracks," shouted a lance sergeant
who heard Giles's threat to smite the corporal.

The first sergeant came out of a little room near the
door, and charged down toward us with a saber in his
hand.

" What's the trouble here ? " he demanded.

" This recruit threatened to strike me," replied the
corporal.

"And he threatened to put me in the guard house
for saying I wouldn't sleep in that box without a bed,"
said Taylor.

" Did you ever hear the articles of war read ? " asked
the sergeant.

" No, sir."

" Well, then, we'll let you go this time ; but you've
had a mighty narrow escape. Had you struck the cor-
poral the penalty would have been death. Never talk
back to an officer."

" Golly ! that was a close call," whispered Taylor,
after he had crawled into his bunk.

We each had a blanket issued to us for that night,
but the next day straw ticks were filled, and added to our

DOWN IN DIXIE.

comfort. Waterman and I took the upper bunk, and
Giles slept downstairs alone until he paired with Theo-
dore C. Horn of Williamstown, another new-comer.

One of the most discouraging experiences that a re-
cruit was called upon to face before he reached the front
was the drawing of his outfit — receiving his uniform
and equipments. I speak of cavalry recruits. If there
ever was a time when I felt homesick and regretted that
I had not enlisted in the infantry it was the morning of
the second day after our arrival at Camp Meigs. I re-
call no one event of my army life that broke me up so
completely as did this experience. I had drawn a uni-
form in the Griswold cavalry at Troy before my father
appeared on the scene with a habeas corpus, but I had
not been called on to take charge of a full set of cavalry
equipments. If I had been perhaps the second attack
of the war fever would not have come so soon.

A few minutes after breakfast the first sergeant of
Company I came out from his room near the door and
shouted:

" Attention ! "

" Attention ! " echoed the duty sergeants and cor-
porals in the barracks.

" Recruits of Company I who have not received their
uniforms fall in this way."

A dozen " Johnny come Latelys," including the Ber-
lin trio, fell in as directed. The sergeant entered our

DOWN IN DIXIE.

names in a memorandum book. Then we were turned
over to a corporal, who marched us to the quartermas-
ter's office where we stood at attention for an hour or
so while the requisition for our uniforms was going
through the red-tape channels. Finally the door opened,
and a dapper young sergeant with a pencil behind his
ear informed the corporal that "all's ready."

The names were called alphabetically, and I was the
first of the squad to go inside to receive my outfit.

"Step here and sign these vouchers in duplicate,"
said the sergeant.

I signed the papers. The sergeant threw the differ-
ent articles of the uniform and equipments in a heap on
the floor, asking questions and answering them himself
after this fashion :

"What size jacket do you wear? No. i. Here's a
No. 4 ; it's too large, but you can get the tailor to alter it.

" Here's your overcoat ; it's marked No. 3, but the
contractors make mistakes; I've no doubt it's a No. 1.

" That forage cap's too large, but you can put paper
in the lining.

" Never mind measuring the trousers ; if they're too
long you can have 'em cut off.

" The shirts and drawers will fit anybody ; they're
made that way.

" You wear No. 6 boots, but you'll get so much drill
your feet'll swell so these No. 8's will be just the fit.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" This is your bed blanket ; don't get it mixed with
your horse blanket.

" I'll let you have my canteen and break in the new
one; mine's been used a little and got jammed a bit,
but that don't hurt it.

" This is your haversack ; take my advice and always
keep it full.

" This white piece of canvas is your shelter tent; it
is warranted to shelter you from the rain if you pitch it
inside a house that has a good roof on it.

" These stockings are rights and lefts.

" Here's your blouse. We're out of the small num-
bers, but it is to be worn on fatigue and at stables, so
it's better to have plenty of room in your blouse.

" You will get white gloves at the sutler's store if
you've got the money to settle. He'll let you have sand
paper, blacking, brushes, and other cleaning materials on
the same terms.

" Here's a rubber poncho.

" Let's see ! that's all in the clothing line. Now for
your arms and accoutrements ! "

I appealed to the sergeant :

" Let me carry a load of my things to the barracks
before receiving my arms and other fixings ? "

" Can't do it — take too much time ; and if you did go
over with part of your outfit, somebody'd steal what you
left in the barracks before vou returned with the rest."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Go it, then," I exclaimed in despair, and the ser-
geant continued :

"This carbine is just the thing to kill rebels with if
you ever get near enough to them. It's a short-range
weapon, but cavalrymen are supposed to ride down the
enemy at short range.

" The carbine sling and swivel attaches the carbine
over your shoulder.

" This cartridge box will be filled before you go on
the skirmish line ; so will the cap pouch.

" This funny-looking little thing with a string at-
tached is a wiper with which to keep your carbine
clean inside.

" The screw-driver will be handy to take your car-
bine apart, but don't do it when near the enemy. They
might scoop you in before you could put your gun
together.

" Your revolver is for short-range work. You can
kill six rebels with it without reloading, if the rebels
will hold still and you are a crack shot. You can keep
the pistol in this holster which attaches to your waist-
belt, as does also this box for pistol cartridges.

" These smaller straps are to hold your saber scab-
bard to the waist-belt, and this strap goes over the
shoulder to keep your belt from slipping down around
your heels.

"This is your saber inside the scabbard. I've no

DOWN IN DIXIE.

doubt it's inscribed ' Never draw me without cause or
sheathe me with dishonor,' but we can't stop to look at
it now. If it isn't inscribed, ask your first sergeant
about it. The saber knot completes this part of the out-
fit. The saber is pretty big for you, but we're out of
children's sizes. The horse furniture comes next."

" Will you please let Taylor and Waterman come in
here and help me ? " I petitioned to the sergeant.

" Everybody for himself is the rule in the army,"
said the sergeant. " Tie up your clothing and arms in
your bed blanket. You can put your horse furniture in
your saddle blanket."

Section 1,620 of the " Revised United States Army
Regulations of 1861, with an Appendix Containing the
Changes and Laws Affecting Army Regulations and
Articles of War to June 25, 1863," reads as follows:

" A complete set of horse equipments for mounted
troops consists of 1 bridle, 1 watering bridle, 1 halter, 1
saddle, 1 pair saddle-bags, 1 saddle blanket, 1 surcingle,
1 pair spurs, 1 curry-comb, 1 horse brush, 1 picket pin,
and 1 lariat ; 1 link and 1 nose bag when specially
required."

The section reads smoothly enough. There is noth-
ing formidable about it to the civilian. But, ah me !
Surviving troopers of the great conflict will bear me out
when I say that section 1,620 aforesaid, stands for a
great deal more than it would be possible for the unini-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

tiated to comprehend at one sitting. The bridle, for in-
stance, is composed of one headstall, one bit, one pair of
reins. And the headstall is composed of " i crown
piece, the ends split, forming i cheek strap and i throat
lash billet on one side, and on the other i cheek strap
and i throat lash, with i buckle, .625-inch, 2 chapes and
2 buckles, .75-inch, sewed to the ends of cheek piece to
attach the bit ; 1 brow band, the ends doubled and
sewed from two loops on each end through which the
cheek straps and throat lash and throat lash billet pass."

So much for the headstall. It would take three
times the space given to the headstall to describe the
bit, and then come the reins. The watering bridle " is
composed of 1 bit and 1 pair of reins." The halter's de-
scription uses up one third of a page. " The saddle is
composed of 1 tree, 2 saddle skirts, 2 stirrups, 1 girth
and girth strap, 1 surcingle, 1 crupper." Two pages of
the regulations are required to describe the different
pieces that go to make up the saddle complete, and
which include six coat straps, one carbine socket, saddle
skirts, saddle-bags, saddle blanket, etc. The horse
brush, curry-comb, picket pin, lariat, link and nose bag
all come in for detailed descriptions, each with its
separate pieces.

Let it be borne in mind that all these articles were
thrown into a heap on the floor, and that every strap,
buckle, ring and other separate piece not riveted or

DOWN IN DIXIE.

sewed together was handed out by itself, the sergeant
rattling on like a parrot all the time, and perhaps a faint
idea of the situation may be obtained. But the real
significance of the event can only be understood by the
troopers who " were there."

As I emerged from the quartermaster's office I was
a sight to behold. Before I had fairly left the building
my bundles broke loose and my military effects were
scattered all around. By using the loose straps and sur-
cingle I managed to pack my outfit in one bundle.
But it was a large one, just about all I could lift.

When I got into the barracks I was very much dis-
couraged. What to do with the things was a puzzle
to me. I distributed them in the bunk, and began to
speculate on how I could ever put all those little straps
and buckles together. The more I studied over it the
more complicated it seemed. I would begin with the
headstall of the bridle. Having been raised on a farm
I had knowledge of double and single harness to some
extent, but the bridles and halters that I had seen were
not of the cavalry pattern. After I had buckled the
straps together I would have several pieces left with no
buckles to correspond. It was like the fifteen-puzzle.

As I was manipulating the straps Taylor arrived
with his outfit. He threw the bundle down in the
lower bunk, and exclaimed :

" I wish I'd staid to home."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" So do I, Giles."

" Where's Theodore ? "

" I haven't seen him since I left him at the quarter-
master's."

" He got his things before I did and started for the
barracks."

Taylor left his bundle and went in search of Horn
who was found near the cook-house. His pack had
broken loose, and he was too much disgusted to go any
further. Taylor assisted him, and they reached the
bunk about the time Waterman arrived. We held a
council of war, and decided to defer action on the horse
furniture till the next day.

" We'll tog ourselves out in these soldier-clothes and
let the harness alone till we're ordered to tackle it," said
Taylor, and we all assented.

" Attention ! "

The orderly sergeant again appeared.

" The recruits who have just drawn their uniforms
will fall in outside for inspection with their uniforms on
in ten minutes ! "

There was no time for ceremony. Off went our
home clothes and we donned the regulation uniforms.
Four sorrier-looking boys in blue could not have been
found in Camp Meigs. And we were blue in more
senses than one. Mv forage cap set down over my head
and rested on my ears. The collar to my jacket came

DOWN IN DIXIE.

up to the cap, and I only had a " peek hole " in front.
The sleeves of the jacket were too long by nearly a foot,
and the legs of the pantaloons were ditto. The Govern-
ment did not furnish suspenders, and as I had none I
used some of the saddle straps to hold my clothes on.
Taylor could not get his boots on, and Horn discovered
that both of his boots were lefts. He got them on, how-
ever. When Waterman put on his overcoat it covered
him from head to foot, the skirts dragging the floor.
Before we had got on half our things the order came to
"fall in outside," and out we went. Taylor had his Gov-
ernment boots in his hands, as a corporal had informed
him that if he turned out with citizen's boots on after
having received his uniform he would be tied up by the
thumbs. So he turned out in his stocking feet.

We were " right dressed " and " fronted " by the first
sergeant, who reported to the captain that the squad was
formed. The captain advanced and began with Taylor,
who was the tallest of the squad, and therefore stood on
the right.

" Where are your boots ? "

" Here," replied the frightened recruit, holding them
out from under the cape of his great coat.

" Fall out and put them on."

" I can't."

" Why not ? "

" I wear nines and these are sevens."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Corporal, take this man to the quartermaster's and
have the boots changed."

Taylor trotted off, pleased to get away from the offi-
cer, who next turned his attention to Horn.

" What's the matter with your right foot ; are you
left-handed in it ? "

" No, sir ; they gave me both lefts."

" Sergeant, send this man to the quartermaster's and
have the mistake rectified."

Waterman was next in line.

" Who's inside this overcoat ? " demanded the captain.

" It's me, sir — private Waterman."

" Couldn't you get a smaller overcoat ? "

" They said it would fit me, and I had no time to try
it on."

" Sergeant, have that man's coat changed at once.
Fall out, private Waterman."

Then came my turn. The captain looked me over.
My make-up was too much for his risibility.

" Where did you come from ? " he asked, after the
first explosion.

" Berlin."

" Where's that ? "

" York State."

" Well, you go with the sergeant to the quartermas-
ter and see if you can't find a rig that will come nearer
fitting you than this outfit."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

I was glad to obey orders, and after the captain's
compliments had been presented to the quartermaster,
directions were given to supply me with a uniform that
would fit. Although the order could not be literally
complied with, I profited by the exchange, and the sec-
ond outfit was made to do after it had been altered
somewhat by a tailor, and the sleeves of the jacket and
the legs of the trousers had been shortened.

The captain did not " jump on us " as we had ex-
pected. The self-styled old soldiers had warned us that
we would be sent to the guard house. The captain had
seen service at the front, and had been through the mill
as a recruit when the First Battalion was organized. He
knew that it was not the fault of the privates that their
clothes did not fit them. This fact seemed to escape
the attention of many commissioned officers, and not a
few recruits were censured in the presence of their com-
rades by thoughtless captains, because the boys had not
been built to fill out jackets and trousers that had been
made by basting together pieces of cloth cut on the bias
and every other style, but without any regard to shapes,
sizes or patterns.

CHAPTER III.

The Buglers Drill— Getting Used to the Calls — No E en- for
Music — A Visitor from Home — A Basket full of Goodies —
Taking Tintypes — A Special Artist at the Battle of Bull
Run — Horses for the Troopers — Revicivcd by a War Governor
— Leaving Camp Meigs — A Mothers Prayers — The Eman-
cipation Proclamation — Lincoln s Vow — The War Gover-
nors' Address.

HOULD there be living to-day a sur-
vivor of Sheridan's Cavalry Corps of the
Army of the Potomac who can, without
shuddering, recall the buglers' drill, his
probationary period on earth must be
rapidly drawing to a close. I do not
mean the regular bugle calls of camp or
those sounded on company or battalion parade. I refer
to the babel of bugle blasts kept up by the recruit
"musicians" from the sounding of the first call for
reveille till taps. A majority of the boys enlisted as
buglers could not at first make a noise — not even a lit-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

tie toot — on their instruments, but when, under the
instruction of a veteran bugler, the}- had mastered the
art of filling their horns and producing sound they
made up for lost time with a vengeance. And what a
chorus! Reveille, stable call, breakfast call, sick call,
drill call retreat, tattoo, taps — all the calls, or what
the little fellows could do at them, were sounded at one
time with agonizing effect.

The first sergeant of Company I said to me one day
while we were in Camp Meigs :

" The adjutant wants more buglers, and he spoke of
you as being one of the light weights suitable for the
job. You may go and report to the adjutant."

" I didn't enlist to be a bugler ; I'm a full-fledged
soldier."

" But you're young enough to bugle."

" I'm twenty-one on the muster-roll. I want to serve
in the ranks."

" Can't help it ; you'll have to try your hand."

I reported to the adjutant as directed, and was sent
with a half-dozen other recruits to be tested by the
chief trumpeter. After a trial of ten minutes the in-
structor discovered that there was no promise of my de-
velopment into a bugler, and he said with considerable
emphasis :

" You go back mit you to de adjutant and tell him
dot vou no got one ear for de music."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

I was glad to report back to the company, for I pre-
ferred to serve as a private.

The recruits soon became familiar with the sound of
the bugle. The first call in the morning was buglers'
call — or first call for reveille. The notes would be
sounding in the barracks when the first sergeant, all the
duty sergeants and the corporals would yell out :

" Turn out for reveille roll-call ! "

" Be lively, now — turn out! "

As a result of this shouting by the " non-coms " the
boys soon began to pay no attention to the bugle call,
but naturally waited till they heard the signal to " turn
out " given by the sergeants and corporals. And in a
very short time they ceased to hear the bugle when the
first call was sounded.

In active service in the Army of the Potomac so
familiar with the calls did the soldiers become that when
cavalry and infantry were bivouacked together, and the
long roll was sounded by the drummers, it would not be
heard by the troopers, and when the cavalry buglers
blew their calls the foot soldiers would sleep undisturbed.
In front of Petersburg troops would sleep soundly
within ten feet of a heavy battery that was firing shot
and shell into the enemy's works all night. But let one
of the guards on the line of breastworks behind which
they were " dreaming of home " discharge his musket,
and the sleepers would be in line ready for battle almost

DOWN IN DIXIE.

in the twinkling of an eye. And let the cavalry trum-
peter make the least noise on his bugle, and the troop-
ers would hear it at once.

A few weeks before our battalion left Camp Meigs
for the front Mrs. E. L. Waterman of Berlin, mother of
Irving Waterman, paid us a visit. She brought with
her a basket full of goodies. Home-made pies, bread,
butter, cheese, cookies and fried cakes were included in
the supplies. She took up her quarters at the picture
gallery of Mr. Holmes, the camp photographer, and we
went to see her as often as our duties would permit.
She brought us socks knit by our friends at home, and
many articles for our comfort. About the first thing
she said was : " My boys, what do they give you to eat ? "

" Bread and meat and beans and coffee," we an-
swered.

" No butter ? "

" No."

" I thought not. I had heard the soldiers had to
eat their bread without butter, with nothing but coffee
to wash it down, so I brought you a few pounds of
butter."

And the dear woman remained at the gallery, and
Irving and I would drop over and eat the good things
she fixed for us. If we had taken our commissary stores
to the barracks they would have been stolen.

Mrs. Waterman asked Irving and mvself to have our

DOWN IN DIXIE.

pictures taken. Neither of us had ever been photo-
graphed or tintyped, but we took kindly to the idea.
We sat together, and the picture, a tintype, was pro-
nounced an excellent likeness. What a trying perform-
ance it was, though ! We were all braced up with an
iron rest back of the head, and told to " look about
there — you can wink, but don't move." Of course the
tintype presented the subject as one appears when look-
ing into a mirror. The right hand was the left, and our
buttons were on the wrong side in the picture. But
Mrs. Waterman declared the tintype to be " as near
like them as two peas," and we accepted her verdict.
The dear old lady has kept that picture all these years.
The soldier boys resorted to all sorts of expedients
to " beat the machine." That is, to so arrange their
arms and accoutrements that when the tintype was
taken it would not be upside down or wrong end to.
To this end the saber-belt would be put on wrong side
up so that the scabbard would hang on the right side —
that would bring it on the left side, where it belonged
in the picture. I tried that plan one day and then stood
at "parade rest," with the saber in front of me. I put
back my left foot instead of my right to stand in that
position, and when the picture was presented, I con-
gratulated myself that I had made a big hit. But when I
showed it to an old soldier in the company he humiliated
me by the remark :

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" It's all very fine for a recruit, but a soldier wouldn't
hold his saber with his left hand and put his right hand
over it at parade rest."

Sure enough. I had changed my feet to make them
appear all right, but had forgotten the hands. But re-
cruits were not supposed to know everything on the
start.

We had photographs taken as well as tintypes. But
the art of photography has greatly improved since the
war. Most of the photographs of that da}' that I have
seen of late are badly faded, and it is next to impossible
to have a good copy made. Not so with the tintypes.
They remain unfaded, and excellent photographic copies
can be secured. In many a home to-day hang the pict-
ures of the soldier boy, some of them life-sized portraits
copied from the tintypes taken in the days of the war.

I know homes where the gray-haired mothers still
cling to the little tintype picture — the only likeness
they have of a darling boy who was offered as a sacrifice
for liberty. How tenderly the picture is handled !
How sacredly the mother has preserved it ! The hinges
of the frame are broken — worn out with constant open-
ing. The clasp is gone. The plush that lined the
frame opposite the picture is faded and worn. But the
face of the boy is there. Surviving veterans understand
something of the venerable lady's meaning when she puts
the picture to her lips and with tears in her eyes says:

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Yes, he was only a boy. I couldn't consent to let
him go, and I couldn't say no. I could only pray that
he would come back to me — if it were God's will. He
didn't come back. But they said he did his duty.
He died in a noble cause, but it was hard to say ' Thy
will be done,' at first, when the news came that he'd
been killed. I'm so thankful I have his picture — the
only one he ever had taken. He was a Christian boy,
and they wrote me that his last words as his comrades
stood about him under a tree where he had been borne,
were, that he died in the hope of a glorious resurrection,
and that mother would find him in Heaven to welcome
her when she came. There's comfort in that. And
I'll soon be there. I shall meet my boy again, and there
will be no more separation. No more cruel rebellions."

The early war-time pictures are curiosities to-day,
particularly to veterans who study them. Not a few of
the special artists of the first year of the war seemed to
have gained whatever knowledge of the appearance of
troops in battle array that they had from tintype pict-
ures. I have before me as I write, a battle scene
"sketched by our special artist at the front." The offi-
cers all wear their swords on the right side, and in the
foreground is an officer mounting his horse from the off
side — a feat never attempted in military experience but
once, to my knowledge, and then by a militia officer on
the staff of a Trov general, since the war. In some of

DOWN IN DIXIE.

these pictorial papers of the early war-days armies are
represented marching into battle in full-dress uniform
and with unbroken step and perfect alignment.

One thing, however, always puzzled me in these pict-
ures — before I went to war — and that was how the
infantry could march with measured tread — regulation
step of twenty-eight inches, and only one hundred and
ten steps per minute — and keep up with the major-
generals and other officers of high rank who appeared
in front of their men, and with their horses on a dead
run in the direction of the enemy ! These heroic leaders
always rode with their hats in one hand and their swords
in the other, so there was no chance for them to hold in
their horses. But the puzzle ceased to be a puzzle when
I reached the front. I found that the special artists had
drawn on their imagination instead of " on the spot,"
and that it was not customary for commanding generals
to get in between the contending lines of battle and
slash right and left and cut up as the artists had repre-
sented. In the majority of cases, great battles were
fought bv generals on both sides who were in position
to watch, so far as possible, the whole line of battle, and
to be ready to direct such movements and changes as
were demanded by the progress of the fight. To do
this they must necessarily be elsewhere than in front
of their armies, riding down the enemy's skirmishers,
and leaping their horses over cannon.

DOWN IX DIXIE.

It is possible, however, that the special artists did
not fully understand the danger to which a command-
ing general would be exposed, galloping around on his
charger between the armies just coming together in a
terrible clash. At any rate, the specials were willing to
take their chances with their heroes — on paper. I
have in my possession a picture of the " Commence-
ment of the Action at Bull Run — Sherman's Battery
Engaging the Enemy's Masked Battery." In this
picture, sketched by an artist whose later productions
were among the best illustrations of actual warfare, the
officers are, very considerately, placed in rear of the
battery. But in front of the line of battle, in advance
of the cannon that are belching forth their deadly fire,
stands the special artist, sketching "on the spot."

There was a good deal of stir in Camp Meigs the
day that horses were issued to the battalion. The men
were new, and sq were the horses. It did not take a
veteran cavalrvman but a clay or two to break in a new
horse. But it was different with recruits. The chances
were that their steeds would break them in.

I had had some experience with horses on a farm —
riding to cultivate corn, rake hay and the like — but I
had never struggled for the mastery with a fiery, un-
tamed war-horse. Our steeds were in good condition
when they arrived at the camp, and they did not get
exercise enough after they came to take any of the life

DOWN IN DIXIE.

out of them. The first time we practiced on them with
curry-comb and brush, the horses kicked us around the
stables ad libitum. One recruit had all his front teeth
knocked out. But we became better acquainted with
our chargers day by day, and although we started for
Washington a few days after our horses had been issued,
some of us attained to a confidence of our ability to
manage the animals that was remarkable, considering
the fact that we were thrown twice out of three times
whenever we attempted to ride.

One day orders came for us to get ready to go to
the front. None but old soldiers can appreciate the
feelings of recruits under such circumstances. All was
bustle and confusion. There was a good deal of the
hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! on the surface, but there was also
a feeling of dread uncertainty — perhaps that expresses
it — in the breasts of many of the troopers. They
would not admit it, though. The average recruit was
as brave as a lion to all outward appearances, and if he
did have palpitation of the heart when orders came to
go "On to Richmond" — as any advance toward the
front was designated — the fact was not given out for
publication.

The first thing in order was a general inspection to
satisfy the officers, whose duty it was to see that regi-
ments sent out from the Old Bay State were properly
armed and equipped, that we were in a condition to

DOWN IN DIXIK.

begin active service. After all our belongings were
packed on our saddles in the barracks, before we took
them over to the stables to saddle up, the department
commander with
his inspecting offi-
cers examined our
kits. As originally
packed, the sad-
dles of a majority
of the troopers
were loaded so
heavily that it
would have re-
quired four men
to a saddle to get
one of the packs
on the horse's
back. When the
inspection w a s
completed, each
trooper could han-
dle his own saddle.

The following
articles were
thrown out of my collection by the inspectors: —

Two boiled shirts ; one pair calfskin shoes ; two
boxes paper collars ; one vest ; one big neck scarf; one

H.&->

IN THE SADDLE.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

bed quilt ; one feather pillow ; one soft felt hat ; one tin
wash basin ; one cap — not regulation pattern ; one camp
stool — folding; one blacking brush — extra; two cans
preserves ; one bottle cologne ; one pair slippers ; one
pair buckskin mittens ; three fancy neckties ; one pair
saddle-bags — extra; one tin pan; one bottle hair oil;
one looking-glass; one checker-board; one haversack —
extra — filled with home victuals ; one peck bag walnuts ;
one hammer.

Some of the boys had packed up more extras than
I had, and it went against the grain to part with them.
But the inspectors knew their business — and ours, too,
better than we, as we subsequently discovered — and we
were made to understand that we were not going on a
pleasure excursion. It is hardly necessary to say that
there was scarcely an article thrown out by the inspec-
tors that the soldiers would not have thrown away
themselves on their first expedition into the enemy's
country.

After we had been inspected and trimmed down by
the officers, we were reviewed by Governor John A.
Andrew. He was attended by his staff, the department
commander and other officers. Each company was
drawn up in line in its barracks — it was sleeting outside.
As the governor came into our quarters, the captain gave
the command, " Uncover !" and the company stood at
attention as the chief executive of the Old Bay State

DOWN IN DIXIE.

walked slowly down the line, scanning the faces of the
men.

I remember that the governor looked at me with a
sort of " Where-did-you-come-from, Bub ? " expression,
and I began to fear that my time had come to go home.
The governor said to a staff officer :

" Some of the men seem rather young, Colonel ! "

"Yes, sir; the cavalry uniform makes a man look
younger than he is."

" I see. They are a fine body of men, and I have
no doubt we shall hear of their doing good service at
the front."

A few words of encouragement were spoken by the
governor, and he passed on to the barracks of the next
company.

It strikes me that Governor Andrew reviewed us
again as we were marching from the barracks to the
railroad station, but I am not clear on this point. I
know there was a good deal of martial music, waving of
flags, cheering and speech-making by somebody. Our
horses claimed our undivided attention till after we had
dismounted and put them aboard the cars. On the way
down to the railroad an attempt was made somewhere
near the barracks to form in line, so that we could be
addressed by the governor or some other dignitary. It
was a dismal failure. Our steeds seemed to be inspired
by " Hail to the Chief," " The Girl I Left Behind Me,"

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and other patriotic tunes played by the band,. and they
pranced around, stood upon their hind legs and pawed
the air with their fore feet, to the great terror of the re-
cruits and the delight of all the boys in the neighbor-
hood who had gathered to witness our departure. How
the boys shouted !

" Hi, Johnny, it's better'n a circus!"

"Guess 'tis — they don't fall off in a circus; they
just make b'lief."

" Well, these fellows stick tight for new hands."

It was fun for the boys — the spectators — but just
where the laugh came in the recruits failed to discover.
I was told that the governor — or somebody — gave us
his blessing as we rode by the reviewing officer, but I
have no personal knowledge on the subject.

After we had put our horses on board we waited a
few minutes before entering the cars while the other
companies were boarding the train. There was a chain
of sentinels around us, and Mrs. Waterman was outside
the line. She caught sight of us as we stood there, and
she advanced toward us.

"Halt — you can't go through here!" commanded
one of the sentinels.

" I must go through."

" But my orders " —

" I don't care; my boys are there, and I'm going to
speak to them again."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

She came through and gave us her parting blessing
once more.

" Boys, I'll pray God to keep you and bring you
both back to your mothers — God bless you; good-by."
The mother's prayers were answered. Her son and his
tentmate were spared to return at the close of the war.

There was a scramble to secure seats when orders
were given to board the cars. Good-bys were said.
Mothers, wives and sweethearts were there, and with
many it was the last farewell. The whistle blew, the
bells rang, the band played, the troops remaining at
Camp Meigs cheered and we cheered back. The train
moved away from the station, and we were off for the
front.

I never saw Governor Andrew again, but I recall
his appearance as he reviewed our company in the bar-
racks very distinctly. I observed that while inspecting
officers paid more attention to the arms and accoutre-
ments of the men the governor was particular in look-
ing into the faces of the recruits, to satisfy himself, no
doubt, that they could be trusted to uphold the honor of
the State when the tug of war should come. John A.
Andrew was one of the " war governors " whose loyal sup-
port of President Lincoln's emancipation programme
held the Northern States in line when the time came for
the President to issue the proclamation that freed the
slaves of the States in rebellion against the Government.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The proclamation was promulgated September 22,
1862, a few days after the battle of Antietam. It is on
record that Lincoln had made the draft of the document

HALT — YOU CAN'T GO THROUGH HEKK

in July, and had held it, waiting for a Union victory,
that he might give it to the country at the same time
that a decisive defeat of the rebels was announced.
The second battle of Bull Run came, and Pope's shat-
tered army retreated into the works around the national

DOWN IN DIXIE.

capital. Lee, with his victorious followers, crossed the
Potomac into Maryland. The Confederate chief hoped
to rally the disloyal element in that State and along the
border under the rebel flag. It began to look as though
the victory Lincoln was waiting for would never come.
It was one of the darkest hours of the conflict. What
would have been the effect of issuing the Emancipation
Proclamation at that time ? The rebels had invaded
the North! The Union army had been defeated —
everything seemed to be going to destruction !

Lincoln is credited with saying in respect of the
rebels crossing the Potomac just before the battle of
Antietam :

" I made a solemn vow before God, that if General
Lee were driven back from Maryland, I would crown
the result by a declaration of freedom to the slaves."

September 24, iS62,two clays after the proclamation
was issued, Governor Andrew, with the governors of
other loyal States, at a meeting at Altoona, Penn.,
adopted an address to the President that must have set
at rest any doubts the chief magistrate may have had
that his policy was the policy of the loyal people of the
North. The document was inspired and executed by
patriots in whom the citizens of the loyal States reposed
unbounded confidence. They declared:

" We hail with heartfelt gratitude and encouraged
hope the proclamation of the President, issued on the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

22d inst., declaring emancipated from their bondage
all persons held to service or labor as slaves in rebel
States where rebellion shall last until the first day of
January ensuing.

" Cordially tendering to the President our respectful
assurances of personal and official confidence, we trust
and believe that the policy now inaugurated will be
crowned with success, will give speedy and triumphant
victories over our enemies, and secure to this nation and
this people the blessing and favor of Almighty God.
We believe that the blood of the heroes who have
already fallen and those who may yet give up their lives
to their country will not have been shed in vain.

" And now presenting to our chief magistrate this
conclusion of our deliberations, we devote ourselves to
our country's service, and we will surround the President
in our constant support, trusting that the fidelity and
zeal of the loyal States and people will always assure
him that he will be constantly maintained in pursuing
with vigor this war for the preservation of the national
life and hopes of humanity."

CHAPTER IV.

Arrival at Warrenton — Locating a Camp — Dog Tents — Build-
ing Winter Quarters — On Picket — A Stand-off with the
Rebels — A Fatal Post — Alarm at Midnight — Bugle Calls
— The Soldier's Sabbath — 'The Articles of War and the
Death Penalty.

' T rained the day the third battalion of the

First Massachusetts cavalry arrived at

||l Warrenton, Va., and it rained for three

days, almost without a let-up, after we

reached our destination.

Recruits always received a hearty
welcome at the front — the less the old
soldiers had to do in the way of picket duty, the better
they liked it. The recruits were — at first — ready to
do all the duty, and the veterans were willing to let the
new arrivals have their own way along this line. But
after a few weeks of wear and tear at the front, the raw
recruits could generally give the old soldiers points on
dodging duty and feigning sickness, so as to have

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" excused from picket," or " light duty " marked opposite
their names on the sick book. These peculiarities of
soldier-life were characteristic of camp and winter quar-
ters. As a rule, when the troops were brought face to
face with the "business of the campaign," there was a
sort of freemasonry among them. Then the veteran
was ready .to share his last cracker with the recruit, and
they drank from the same canteen. An engagement
with the enemy was sure to place all who stood shoulder
to shoulder on a level. In the jaws of death, with com-
rades dropping on every hand, all were " boys," and all
were soldiers — comrades.

Our first night's experience at Warrenton was not
calculated to inspire us with love for the place. When
we arrived we were drawn up in line in front of
headquarters.

" You will camp your men just south of that row of
tents," a brigade staff officer said to the major in com-
mand of our battalion. " You can pitch tents till such
time as you can build winter quarters. Stretch your
picket lines so as to leave proper intervals between your
camp and the regiment next to it."

The staff officer hurried back into his log-house, to
get out of the rain. We broke into columns of fours,
and were marched to the ground on which we were to
build our winter quarters. The outlook was discourag-
ing. The camp was laid out on a side hill, down which

nowx IN DIXIE.

good-sized brooks of water were flowing. And the
ground! It was like a bed of mortar. Next to pre-
pared glue, Virginia mud is entitled to first prize for its
adhesive qualities.

"See here," exclaimed Taylor, "they're only just
making fools of us. No general could order us to get
off our horses and make camp in this mud-hole."

Taylor's indiscretion was always getting him into
trouble, and his talking in ranks this time secured him
another tour of double duty.

Down came the rain, and we were in for it. In due
time the horses were picketed and their nosebags put
on. As soon as the animals were taken care of and fed,
the weary troopers, drenched to the skin, were directed
to "pitch tents!" The tents with which we were pro-
vided were known as shelter, or dog tents, the latter
name being most popular, as they often failed to afford
anything but a poor apology for shelter. Each soldier
had half a tent — till he lost it. The half-tent was a
piece of canvas about five feet by four, or something-
like it. Along one edge was a row of buttonholes, and
a little further back a row of buttons. Two pieces but-
toned together were put over a ridge-pole, supported by
two crotches, and the bottom edges of the tent were
fastened to the ground by little cord loops through
which sticks were driven. Both gable ends of the tent
were open to the weather, but sometimes a third

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" bunkey " would be taken in, and one end of the tent
closed up with his piece. The shelter tents were always
too short at both ends. Think of a man like Corporal
Goddard of our company, who was an inch or two over
six feet, trying to " shelter " himself under such a con-
trivance. A man of medium height could find cover
only by doubling himself up in the shape of a capital N,
and it was necessary to " spoon it " where two or three
attempted to sleep under one dog tent.

Waterman and I continued as bunkies. At Camp
Stoneman, Taylor and Horn had occupied the upper
bunk in our log-house, and the same quartette had de-
cided to go together when we should build winter quar-
ters at our new location. Horn was detailed for stable
guard as soon as we dismounted, and Taylor, Waterman
and myself concluded to pitch tents together.

The ground was so soft that the sticks would not
hold, and the tent was blown down several times. All
our blankets were wet. Long after dark, however, we
made fast the tent as best we could, and crawled in.
Taylor being the oldest and largest, was assigned by a
majority vote of Waterman and myself, to the side from
which the wind came. I took the middle. It was close
quarters.

" I don't see what's the use of getting up to fix it
again," said Taylor, as the dog tent was blown down
the third time after we had turned in. " I'm just as

DOWN IN DIXIE.

wet's I can be, and I'd rather sleep than get up
again."

I had managed to raise myself a few inches above
the water. My saddle was under my head, and I had
two canteens under my back. The water was running
a stream between Waterman and Taylor.

" I'll sit up and hold the tent while you fellows
sleep," volunteered the genial Taylor the next time the
tent went down.

There was nothing selfish about Taylor. After we
had gone to sleep he " hadn't the heart to disturb us,"
as he expressed it the next day, and when the wind
shifted and there was a slight let-up in the deluge, he
took the three pieces of tent, our rubber ponchos, saddle
blankets and bed blankets and, selecting the dryest spot
he could find on the side-hill, he rolled himself up in
them and slept till reveille. Just before daybreak
Waterman and I were drowned out, and sought shelter
in an old brick building up on the hill.

The erection of log huts for winter quarters at War-
ren ton was no "joke." We had to go on Water Mount-
ain to cut the trees for building material. Then we
waited our turn for teams and wagons to haul the
logs.

It was thirteen days before we got our log-house built
and our shelter tents nailed on for a roof. Two bunks,
one over the other, were made of poles. Taylor and

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Horn had the upper bunk, while Waterman and I slept
" downstairs."

" There's more of Giles than there is of us," sug-
gested Waterman, " and we'll put him and Horn in the
top bunk so that when it rains and the roof leaks they'll
absorb a good deal of the water before it gets to us."

Waterman and I chuckled over our success in secur-
ing the lower bunk, but one night when the upper
bunk broke, and Taylor and Horn came tumbling clown
upon us, we realized, indeed, that there was a good deal
more of Giles than there was of us.

We went on picket in our turn. The line ran along
the top of Water Mountain for some distance, and we
occasionally exchanged compliments with Mosby's men.
The first night we were on picket, a little down to the
south of the mountain, I went on duty at nine o'clock.
The post was across a creek and near an old stone mill.
It rained, sleeted and snowed during the night, and the
creek filled up so that the " relief " could not cross over
to my post when the time came to change the pickets.
As a result I remained on post till daylight. It was
one of the longest nights I ever put in during my army
service.

Of course, every noise made by the wind was a
bushwhacker. I was so thankful to find myself alive
at davbreak that I forgot to growl at the corporal for
not relieving me on time. When I unbosomed myself

DOWN IN DIXIE.

to Taylor, and told him how nervous I felt out there by
the old mill, he laughed and said :

" Don't you never feel nervous again when you're
caught in such a scrape, for, mark my word, no rebel,
not even a 'gorilla' would be fool enough to go gunning
for Yankee recruits such a night as last night was." I
found a good deal of comfort in Taylor's logical admoni-
tion after that when alone on picket in stormy weather.

Just over the divide on Water Mountain, on the
side toward the rebel camp, was an old log shanty.
We called it the block house. Our pickets occupied
it by day, and the rebels had possession of it by night.
This happened because the Union picket line was
drawn in at night, and the pickets were posted closer
together than during the day. Our line was advanced
soon after daylight.

One morning when we galloped down to the block
house from our reserve, we surprised the Johnnies.
They had been a little late in getting breakfast, and
their horses had their nosebags on. We were just as
much surprised as they were, and we stood six to six.
Carbines and revolvers were pointed, but no one fired.

" Give us time to put on our bridles and we'll
vacate," said the sergeant of the rebel picket.

" All right; go ahead," our sergeant replied.

The Johnnies bridled their horses, mounted and rode
down the mountain.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" We kept a good fire for you all," the rebel sergeant
remarked as they left.

" And you'll find it burning when you come back to-
night," was the Yankee sergeant's assuring reply.

After the rebels had got out of sight our boys
began to feel that they had missed a golden opportu-
nity to destroy a detachment of the Confederate army.
We had longed for a " face-to-face " meeting with the
rebels.

" I could have killed two rebels had I been allowed
to shoot," said Taylor.

"Who told you not to shoot?" demanded the
sergeant.

" Well, nobody gave the order to fire. I had my
crun cocked and if the rest of you had killed your man
I'd killed mine."

" Bu-bu-bu-but they had si-si-six t-t-to ou-ou-our
si-si-six, di-di-didn't they?" interrupted Jack Hazelet,
whose stammering always caused him to grow red in
the face when he wanted to get a word in in time and
couldn't.

" Yes ; we stood six to six, but if each one of us had
killed his man they would all be dead."

" Je-je-jesso; bu-bu-bu-but di-di-didn't they ha-ha-have
gu-gu-guns, t-t-too ? "

" Of course they did."

" Sup-po-po-posen they ha-ha-had ki-ki-killed 's ma-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

ma-many 'f us a-a-as we di-di-did o-o-o-of th-th-them,
wh-wh-where wo-wo-would we-we-we b-b-be n-n-now?
co-co-confound you ! "

As we found that only two of our party had their
carbines loaded when we surprised the rebels, we con-
cluded that it was just as fortunate for us as it was for
the enemy that the meeting had resulted in a stand-off,
although Taylor insisted that if any one had given the
command " fire " he would have killed his man. When
his attention was called to the fact that his carbine
was not loaded, he said:

" Well, I could have speared one of them with my
sword before they could all get away."

" Bu-bu-bu-but wh-wh-what wo-wo-would th-th-the
re-re-reb be-be-been do-do-doing ; yo-yo-you in-in-infernal
blockhead ! " exclaimed Hazelet, and Taylor subsided.

There was one picket post half-way down Water
Mountain, toward the Federal camp, that was dreaded
by all the boys. It was within three hundred yards of
the picket reserve or rendezvous. There was an old
wagon road winding through a narrow ravine, and a
stone wall crossed at right angles with the road opposite
the reserve. On either side of the ravine was thick
underbrush, and just back a little were woods. We
were informed that four pickets had been shot off their
horses near the old tree. The bushwhackers would ride
to within a few hundred yards of the stone wall, dis-

DOWN IX DIXIE.

mount and while one would remain with the horses an-
other would crawl like a snake in the grass up behind
the wall and pick off the Union cavalrymen. It was
cold-blooded murder, committed at night, without cause
or provocation. Let it be said to the credit of the Con-
federate rank and file, that the boys in butternut —
the regularly organized troops — discountenanced the
cowardly acts of the guerrillas and bushwhackers.

A soldier was shot on picket at the old tree one
night, and our company relieved the company to which
he belonged the next morning. The murdered trooper
was strapped across his saddle and taken to camp for
burial. When our boys were counted off for picket
Taylor " drew the fatal number," as it was called.

" If I'm murdered on post, boys," he said, " don't
bother about taking my carcass to camp. Bury me
where I fall."

Taylor made a poor attempt to appear unconcerned.
But he was a droll sort of a boy. He continued :

" I've no doubt I was cut out for an avenger; so if
any of you fellows want me to avenge your death just
swap posts with me to-night. If any infernal gorilla
steals up on you and takes your life, I pledge you that
I'll follow him to Texas, but what I'll spill his gore."

" I'd rather go unavenged than to take chances on
that post from eleven o'clock to one o'clock to-night,"
chorused several of Taylor's friends.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

I had the post next to Taylor toward the reserve.
The rain was falling, and it was dark down in the
ravine. I could hear Taylor's horse champing his bit,
and once my horse broke out with a gentle whinny, the
noise of which startled me tremendously at first.
And I have no doubt it operated the same on Taylor.
Soon after that the rain let up and the clouds broke
away so that the moon could be seen now and then.
All at once there was a flash and a loud report.

" That's the last of poor Giles," I exclaimed, as the
sound of the shot reverberated through the ravine.

Then I rode toward Taylor's post as cautiously as I
could. I was pleasantly startled by the challenge in his
well-known voice :

" Who comes there ? "

The reserve came galloping down the hill. After
the usual challenges and answers had been given, the
lieutenant inquired:

" Who fired that shot ? "

" 'Twas me," replied Taylor.

" What did you fire at ? "

" A bushwhacker."

" Where ? "

" Over by the wall."

" Did you see him ? "

" Of course I did ; you don't suppose I'd fire at the
moon, do you ? "

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The reserve rode forward to the wall and a few
hundred yards beyond. It was decided that it would be
useless to follow the guerrillas in the darkness. The
pickets were doubled, two men on a post, for the rest of
the night. I was put on the same post with Taylor,
and after the reserve had returned to the rendezvous I
questioned him about the alarm :

" Are you sure you saw a live bushwhacker, Giles ? "

" If I hadn't seen him I'd be dead now."

" You didn't challenge him ? "

" Well, I should say not. I saw him raise his head
over the wall, just as the moon broke through a cloud.
I first saw the glisten of his gun. Then I fired, and I
believe I singed his hair, for I took good aim. If the
moon had staid behind the clouds three seconds
longer, the gorilla would 'a' had me sure. After I fired
I heard him run, and then there were voices, followed
by the noise of horses' hoofs as the bushwhackers
galloped away. It was a close call for Taylor, but I
tell vou I sat with my carbine cocked and pointed at
that wall all the time till the gorilla appeared. If my
horse hadn't shied a little, that fellow would never have
gone back to tell the story of his failure to murder
another picket."

The next day arrangements were made to surprise
the guerrillas in the event of another visit. Two dis-
mounted troopers were stationed behind the stone wall,

DOWN IN DIXIE.

within easy range of the opening down the road toward
the rebel lines. But the bushwhackers did not return
during our tour of picket.

It was never clearly explained why the post at the
old tree had been used, when the picket could be so
much more safely stationed up behind the wall. There
were a good many things that seemed strange to pri-
vates, but whenever an enlisted man made an effort to
suggest that the plan of operations of his superiors be
revised or corrected, it did not take him long to discover
that he had made " one big shackass of mineself," as a
recruit from Faderland expressed it when he was booted
out of a sergeant's tent at Warrenton for simply inform-
ing the wearer of chevrons that in " Shermany the
sergeants somedimes set up der lager mit de boys."

The experiences of the First Massachusetts cavalry
at Warrenton during the winter were similar to those
of other regiments in camp at that station. Some of us
would have been fearfully homesick if we had found any
spare time between calls. We scarcely had opportunity
to answer letters from home, so thick and fast came the
bugle blasts. One of our boys received a letter from
his sweetheart, and she wondered what the soldiers
could find to occupy their time — "no balls, no parties,
no corn-huskings," as she expressed it. Her soldier
boy inclosed a copy of the list of calls for our every-day
existence in camp, and when we were not on picket duty.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

I have no doubt the dear girl was satisfied that her
boy in blue would suffer little, if any, for the want of
something to keep his mind occupied. As near as I
can remember, the list of calls for each day's programme
— except Sunday, when we had general inspection and
were kept in line an hour or two extra — was as
follows :

Buglers' call .
Assembly
Reveille .
Stable call
Breakfast call .
Sick call .
Fatigue call
First call for guard
Adjutant's call
Water call
Drill call
Recall from
Orderly call
Dinner call
Drill call .
Recall from dii
Water call
Stable call
Dress parade .
Retreat .
Tattoo
Taps

rill

Daybreak

Five minutes later

Immediately after

(about) 7 a. M.

7.30 A. M.

. 8 A. M.

S. 50 A. M.

9 A. M.

9. 15 A. M.

9.30 A. M.

2 P. M.
2.30 P. H.
3.30 P. M.

tefore sunset.
. Sunset.
S.30 P. M.
. 9 p. M.

The roll was called at reveille, drill, retreat and
tattoo. The boys had " words set to music " for nearly
all the calls. The breakfast call was rather inelegantly
expressed when infantry and cavalry troops were camped
close together. The foot soldiers, not having horses to

DOWN IN DIXIE.

groom and feed, had their breakfast the first thing after
reveille. Then they would stand around, and as the
cavalry bugler-boys would sound the breakfast call after
stables, the heroes of the knapsack would chorus :

" Go and get your breakfast,
Breakfast without meat."

But a cavalry poet tried his hand, and after that
whenever the infantry fellows shouted the above at us
to the tune of breakfast call, we all joined in the
refrain :

" Dirty, dirty doughboy,
Dirty, dirty feet."

That settled it. The doughboys soon fell back. If
they had not, there might have been a riot, for our poet
was at work on another verse that he said would settle
their hash. Judging from the result of his first effort,
I can readily see that the infantry had a narrow escape.

We had inspection every Sunday morning after
stables. Each company was looked over by its first
sergeant. Then the captains would appear and take
charge. If it were to be a regimental inspection, all
the companies would be marched to the parade-ground,
and the colonel or regimental commander would be the
inspecting officer. Every now and then a brigade
review would follow the inspection. It was fun for the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

brigadier, or inspector, but after the rear rank privates
had been in the saddle two hours or more, sitting bolt
upright, with eyes fixed square to the front while wait-
ing to have the inspector come round to them, and go
through the motions of examining their carbines, re-
volvers, sabers and equipments, the affair became tedious.

But our regiment was blessed with an excellent
band. The members rode white horses, and on all
grand reviews and parades they took position on the
right of the regiment. Whenever the inspection was
particularly protracted and severe, the band would play
inspiring selections, and many a poor fellow who was
on the point of asking permission to fall out of the
ranks, would cheer up as the strains of " The Girl I
Left Behind Me," or some other popular air, would
reach his ear. Survivors of the Army of the Potomac
— and all other armies — will recall that the playing of
a single tune as the comrades rushed forward into
the heat of battle, was worth more than the spread-
eagle speeches of scores of generals. The soldier that
could muster backbone enough to turn tail and run
when his comrades were presenting a solid front to the
enemy, and the bands were playing national airs, was
made of queer material, indeed.

On one of these Sunday morning inspections, Taylor
remarked to me in a low tone of voice :

" I'd like to know how they expect us to diligently

DOWN IN DIXIE.

attend divine worship when they keep us harnessed up
all day after this fashion ? "

" Keep still, Giles ; if the sergeant hears you he'll
tie you up by the thumbs."

Yet Taylor's inquiry was to the point. The articles
of war had been read to us only the day before that in-
spection. Here is what we were given along the line
referred to by Taylor :

"Article 2. — It is earnestly recommended to all
officers and soldiers, diligently to attend divine service ;
and all officers who shall behave indecently or irrever-
ently at any place of divine worship, shall, if com-
missioned officers, be brought before a general court-
martial, there to be publicly and severely reprimanded
by the President ; if non-commissioned officers or
soldiers, every person so offending shall, for his first
offense, forfeit one sixth of a dollar, to be deducted out
of his next pay; for the second offense he shall not
only forfeit a like sum, but be confined twenty-four
hours ; and for every like offense, shall suffer and pay
in like manner; which money, so forfeited, shall be
applied by the captain or senior officer of the troop or
company, to the use of the sick soldiers of the company
or troop to which the offender belongs."

The boys called the regulations the army Bible. Of
course, many of the articles were intended for troops in
garrison.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

When in active service, on the march and on the
tattle field, divine services were impracticable until
there was at least a temporary cessation of hostilities.
Regimental chaplains exhibited remarkable fortitude,
courage and self-sacrifice in administering spiritual
consolation to the wounded and dying at the front, even
under heavy fire from the enemy. There were services
in camp in such organizations as had ministers of the
gospel with them, but many regiments were without
chaplains, and had to forage for religious food, if they
had any.

I do not remember attending divine service in the
army, except once in the Wilderness campaign. It was
at night, and the congregation stood around a blazing
camp-fire. The good old chaplain exhorted the boys to
prepare the way, and buckle on the whole armor. It
was a striking scene. Some of the boys wept as the
minister alluded to the loved ones at home, who were
looking to the Army of the Potomac for a victory that
would crush out the rebellion. There were few dry
eyes when the benediction was pronounced, after the
chaplain had urged his hearers to "be prepared to stand
an inspection before the King of kings."

It was the last religious service that many who
were present that night ever attended. The next day
rebel bullets mowed them down by scores. They died
in defense of the right — that the Union might be pre-

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served. Of those who fell as they fell a poet has
written :

" No more the bugle calls the weary one,
Rest, noble spirit, in your grave unknown ;
We will find you and know you,
Among the good and true,
When the robe of white is given
For the faded coat of blue."

I may have had many opportunities to hear the Gos-
pel preached during the war, but I do not recall the
circumstances now. Yet I am sure that if I had dili-
gently reconnoitered the camps, I could have found
faithful disciples preaching the Word of Life to such as
had ears to hear. And I believe that when the general
roll shall be called on the shores of eternity, the noble
Christian soldiers who held aloft the banner of their
Master on the battle fields of the great Civil War, will
not only hear the welcome, " Well done," but they will
be crowned with diadems bedecked with many stars.

The third commandment laid down in the regula-
tions was probably violated more frequently than any of
the one hundred and one articles of war. It read :

" Article 3. — Any non-commissioned officer or sol-
dier who shall use any profane oath or execration, shall
incur the penalties expressed in the foregoing article ; and
a commissioned officer shall forfeit and pay, for each and
every such offense, one dollar, to be applied as in the
preceding article."

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Had this article been lived up to, the " sick soldiers "
referred to would have been provided for for life, as would
their children and children's children. There would
have been no call for the sanitary and Christian com-
missions to raise money to alleviate the sufferings of
the sick. All that money could have supplied would
have been provided. I do not mean to convey the idea
that the Union soldiers were particularly profane, but
something like a half-million of men were under arms at
one time, about the close of the war. Some of them
swore. Even generals blasphemed before their men.
The general-in-chief, however, was an exception. No
soldier in the Army of the Potomac ever heard Gen.
Grant utter an oath. There were officers and soldiers
in all regiments who did not swear. But they were in
the minority. Had the penalty for using profane oaths
been enforced, seventy-five per cent, of the soldiers would
have been in the guard house all the time, and at the
end of a week they would have been indebted to the
Government more than their three years' salary would
have footed up, and the guard house would have had a
mortgage on them for years to come.

The third article of war was read to one companv in
our regiment by a first sergeant, who gave such an em-
phasis to the reading of the penalty for swearing that
the boys began to feeT that they must " swear off " on
profanity. Said the sergeant :

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" I want you men to understand that in this company
the articles of war will be strictly lived up to. If I hear
any man use profane language, be he non-commissioned
officer or soldier, I'll bring him up for punishment as
prescribed."

Then the sergeant swore a " blue streak " for a
minute or two before he gave the order to "break
ranks." Yet he did it unconsciously, as he said when
his attention was called to it by a corporal, and only
intended to emphasize the interdiction.

Quite a number of the articles of war enumerated
offenses for which the penalty provided that the offender
" shall suffer death, or such other punishment as by a
court-martial shall be inflicted." In the reading the
officers always emphasized the penalty " shall suffer
death," and then dropped their voices till the " or such
other punishment" could scarcely be heard by the
soldiers standing the nearest to the reader. The death
penalty was sandwiched all through the articles of war,
and at the close of the reading the average recruit felt
condemned, and could remember nothing but "shall
suffer death," and expected to hear the captain order
out a detail to execute the sentence. But the death
penalty was inflicted, except in rare instances, only upon
spies or men who had deserted to the enemy and been
recaptured.

CHAPTER V.

General Grant as Commander-in-chief with the Army of the
Potomac — How Grant Fought His Men — Not a Retreating
Man — The Over/and Campaign — The Grand Finale — After
the War — The Old Commander in Troy — En Route to Mac-
Grcgor — Mustered Out.

HEN U. S. Grant was promoted to lieu-
tenant-genera], and assigned to com-
mand all the armies of the United
States, the announcement was received
by the Army of the Potomac without
any marked evidence of approval or
disapproval. There was no enthusiasm whatever among
the troops in winter quarters around Warrenton.

A few expressed the opinion that the " Western im-
portation " would not come up to the country's expecta-,
tions when brought face to face with the great rebel
chief, who was personally acquainted with every inch of
the ground on which the battles of Virginia must be
fought. Then there was a feeling, though not out-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

spoken to any great extent, that the new-comer, being a
stranger to Lee's tactics, and unacquainted with the
Eastern troops, would be placed at such a disadvantage,
that the Confederate leader would be enabled to " play
all around " Grant, and demoralize the Union army.
The veterans of the grand old Army of the Potomac
were prepared to fight — to the death, if need be — no
matter who received the three stars of a lieutenant-
general. They were loyal to their flag, and that carried
with it loyalty to the new commander.

Probably it did not occur to a dozen soldiers in the
Army of the Potomac that Grant would adopt tactics of
his own, instead of following in the beaten paths of
former commanders. No one suspected that the lieu-
tenant-general would be able to knock the bottom out
of the Southern Confederacy inside of twelve months
after his first order for the advance of the army had
been promulgated. We all believed that the Union
cause would triumph. But when? Three years had
rolled round since the rebels fired on Sumter. And
" Uncle Robert," with his veterans in butternut, still
flaunted the stars and bars as defiantly as ever, within a
few miles of the national capital.

Company I, First Massachusetts cavalry, received
the news at first in the same spirit that other companies
in our locality received it. The new commander's quali-
fications were discussed in the lioht of what had been

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heard of his career in the West. How much light we
had received may be inferred from a discussion around
the reserve picket fire on Water Mountain, a detach-
ment of the Sixth Ohio and First Pennsylvania cavalry
being on duty with our regimental detail :

" Who's this Grant that's made lieutenant-general ? "

" He's the hero of Vicksburg."

" Well, Vicksburg wasn't much of a fight. The
rebs were out of rations, and they had to surrender or
starve. They had nothing but dead mules and dogs to
eat, as I understand it."

"Yes; but it required a good deal of strategy to
keep Pemberton's army cooped up in Vicksburg till
they were so weak for want of grub that they couldn't
skedaddle even if they had found a hole to crawl
out of."

" I don't believe Grant could have penned any of
Lee's generals up after that fashion. Early, or Long-
street, or Jeb Stuart would have broken out some way
and foraged around for supplies."

" Maybe so."

" Pemberton couldn't hold a candle to Lee.''

" Of course not."

" What else has Grant done ? "

" He has whipped the Johnnies every time they have
faced him, all the way from Fort Donelson to Chat-
tanooga."

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" He's a fighter, then ? "

" That's what they call him."

" Bully for Grant ! "

" Where does he hall from ? "

" Galena, 111. He was clerking in a leather store
when the war broke out."

" I don't care if he was in Illinois when the war be-
gan, he was born in Ohio, graduated at West Point, and
served in Mexico and out W T est."

"Hurrah for Ohio!" (chorus of the Sixth Ohio
cavalry). " Hurrah for Grant ! "

" Hurrah ! " " Hurrah ! " " Hurrah ! "

" Tiger ! "

I do not know but what the " Ohio idee " was in-
augurated on our picket line away back there in 1864.
At any rate the Sixth Ohio boys insisted, when they
were assured that the lieutenant-general was a native
of that State, that " Bob Lee's goose was as good as
cooked already." It was rather a crude way of express-
ing a prophecy that proved as true as Holy Writ. The
Ohio Volunteers were ready to cross sabers with the
enemy without more ado. Grant was from Ohio, and
that settled it.

The Bay State boys indorsed Grant after his record
had been established. To be sure there was our own
Gen. Butler, the hero of New Orleans. Butler was then
in command of the Army of the James, with Fortress

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Monroe as his base of supplies. Somehow we had
come to associate Butler with naval expeditions, and
never thought of him in connection with a campaign on
land beyond the support of the gunboats. It is prob-
able that our estimates of military men were influenced
by what we read in the newspapers. One of the boys
declared that in a description of the capture of New
Orleans he had read, mention was made of Butler being
"lashed to the maintop," while the fleet under Farragut
was fighting its way up the Mississippi under fire from
the guns of Forts Jackson and St. Philip. Said an Ohio
trooper :

" I don't believe that story."

" Neither do I. I'm only telling you what I read."
" I think Butler had better stay in the navy."
" But he isn't a sailor; he's a major-general of
volunteers."

" Well, there's no telling how he might cut up on
dry land. He'd better keep his sea legs on and stay
where if he gets whipped he can't run."

The veterans from the Keystone State had not lost
faith in " Little Mac." They contended that McClellan
had been handicapped just at a moment when he was
" about to execute a coup de main that would prove a
coup de grace to the Southern Confederacy!" Meade
was the second choice of the Pennsylvanians. His
splendid victory over Lee at Gettysburg had brought

DOWN IN DIXIE.

him into the front rank. He had won the gratitude of
the whole North, Copperheads excepted. Checking
Lee's advance Northward, whipping the rebel army and
compelling the defeated Confederacy to " about face "
and put for home, gave Gen. Meade a big place in
the hearts of the soldiers and the loyal people of the
Keystone State. Surely the patriots of the North had
good cause to rejoice on the eighty-seventh anniversary
of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. On
that day Grant's victorious army raised the stars and
stripes over the rebel fortifications at Vicksburg, and
the Mississippi was opened to the sea ; and Lee's army
of Northern Virginia was retreating from the scene of
its unsuccessful attack on Meade's army at Gettysburg.
Within forty-eight hours after the Union troops had
crossed the Rapidan under the direction of Gen. Grant,
there was not a soldier in the Army of the Potomac but
what felt that the lieutenant-general meant business.
The official records on file at Washington show that
during that two days' terrible struggle in the Wilder-
ness — May 5 and 6, 1S64 — the loss sustained by
the Army of the Potomac was 13,94s, of which 2,261
were killed, 8,785 wounded and 2,902 taken prisoners
or missing. Then came Spottsylvania, with an aggre-
gate Union loss of 13,601. The total loss sustained by
the Army of the Potomac, the Army of the James and by
Sheridan's operations in the valley, from May 1, 1S64,

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to the surrender of Lee at Appomattox, April 9, 1865,
is given in official compilations at 99,772 — 14,601
killed, 61,452 wounded and 23,719 missing. In the
meantime the Federal forces operating in Virginia
captured 81,112 Confederates, and Lee's killed and
wounded are believed to have been equal to Grant's,
but the " scattering " of the rebels after Richmond fell,
and the destruction of Confederate records, made it im-
possible to arrive at the exact figures.

As already stated, the veterans of the Army of the
Potomac were satisfied that Grant was a fighting
man. During the period beginning with the opening
skirmish in the Wilderness, and continuing down to
the end of the conflict at Appomattox, there was not
wanting evidence of Grant's determination to " fight
his men " for all they were worth whenever oppor-
tunity presented for hammering the rebels. There
was no going back this time. It was " On to Rich-
mond " in earnest. The Army of the Potomac was
ready to be led against the enemy. There was general
rejoicing all along the line when the command was
given, " By the left flank, forward ! " and the Federals
moved toward Spottsylvania instead of retreating across
the Rapidan, as President Lincoln said any previous
commander of the Army of the Potomac would have
done at the close of such a battle as that fought in the
Wilderness.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

In Richardson's " Personal History of U. S. Grant,"
it is stated that in the rebel lines it was believed that
our army was falling back at the close of the conflict in
the Wilderness. The account continues:

Gordon said to Lee :

" I think there is no doubt but that Grant is retreating."

" You are mistaken," replied the Confederate chief earnestly, " quite mis-
taken. Grant is not retreating ; he is not a retreating man."

Lee was right. The Army of the Potomac was
never again marched back across the Rapidan until
after the backbone of the Confederacy had been broken,
and the gallant Union soldiers were en route to Wash-
ington to be mustered out.

I first saw Gen. Grant while the battle of the
Wilderness was going on. In changing position during
the fight, our regiment was marched around by Meade's
headquarters. There were a dozen or more officers
grouped about Gen. Grant and Gen. Meade. The
latter wore the full uniform of a major-general, includ-
ing sword and sash. He was somewhat fussy in giving
directions, and a stickler for red tape. But Meade was
a soldier " from heels up." Grant was plainly dressed,
and wore no sword. His coat was unbuttoned, and not
until he was pointed out as the commander-in-chief was
he recognized by the troopers who were riding across
the field.

" There's Gen. Grant."

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" Where ? "

" On the left of Gen. Meade."

" That officer with his coat open ? "

" Yes ; that's Grant."

Off went our caps, and the commander acknowledged
our cheer by raising his hat.

Just then there was a terrific firing along Hancock's
front, and Grant galloped over in that direction after a
moment's conversation with Meade. We took up the
trot, and in a few minutes found plenty to do out on the
road leading to Todd's tavern. \\ nen a breathing spell
came, the boys had their say about the lieutenant-
general.

" I expected to see him all covered with gold lace
and other fixin's," said one.

" He looks as if he would stay with 'em till somebody
cried enough."

" He's got good qualities, any way," remarked Taylor.

" How can you tell ? "

" Because he smokes fine cigars, and rides a good
hoss. I got a smell of that cigar as he cantered bv to
see what was going on in front of the second corps. I
think " —

The discussion was cut short by another attempt of
the Johnnies to hustle us back from the position held
by our brigade. We protested so vigorously that the
rebels retreated after making three or four dashes

DOWN IN DIXIE.

against our advance squadrons. It was warm work in
the Wilderness. One of our boys exclaimed :

" If any of us get out of this Wilderness alive, our
chances will be good to see the end of the Southern
Confederacy."

" Yea, verily," groaned a corporal who had been
shot in the arm.

That Grant had no suspicion of being in a tight
box, as the rebel sympathizers at the North declared he
was, is shown by the fact that at the very moment when
his defamers asserted he was so badly crippled that had
Lee attacked the Union army Grant's forces would have
been destroyed, the lieutenant-general was so much on
the aggressive that he was marching to renew the battle
at Spottsylvania, and felt able to spare Sheridan and his
splendid cavalry corps for a raid on Lee's communi-
cations.

We saw Grant again when we rejoined the army ; at
Cold Harbor, on the march to the south side of the
James several times, and during the assaults in front of
Petersburg. While in winter quarters we saw the lieu-
tenant-general often at City Point and along the line,
and the more we saw of him the higher he rose in our
estimation. Then came the campaign of 1865, ending
with the surrender of the rebel army at Appomattox.
Grant was a modest officer, not given to display, but
when the Army of the Potomac awoke to the fact that

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Lee's army was in the " last ditch," then, and not till
then, did the soldiers begin to appreciate the true great-
ness of the commander-in-chief.

The downfall of Richmond and the capture of Lee's
army silenced even the assistant Confederates at the
North. It was a grand victory — a magnificent triumph
of superior generalship combined with a patriotism that
had never wavered in the face of armed rebellion.

After the surrender I next saw Grant in Washington
on the grand review in May, 1865. He was on the
stand in front of the White House with a large crowd
of dignitaries, including President Johnson.

I saw the old commander but three times after the
war closed. The first time was on the occasion of his
visit to Troy, N. Y., several years ago. He attended
and spoke at a public installation of Post Willard, Grand
Army of the Republic, at Music Hall. He was accom-
panied to the city by Governor Cornell, and a grand
parade was had in which all the local military organi-
zations and veterans participated. The general and the
governor occupied a carriage with Gen. J. B. Carr
and Honorable John M. Francis, and dined with Mr.
Francis at his residence. I was glad of the opportunity
to grasp the old commander's hand.

I had the pleasure, as a representative of the Troy
Daily Times, to accompany the Grant family from Al-
bany to Saratoga about the middle of June, 1SS5. It

DOWN IN DIXIE.

was, indeed, a pleasure to meet the hero of Appomattox
again, but the heart of the soldier who had served under
Grant from the Wilderness to Appomattox and had
been present when the surrender took place, was sad-
dened to find the old warrior only a shadow of his
former self. Only once on the trip to Mount Mac-
Gregor did the general display any of that martial spirit
that twenty years before had animated the commander-
in-chief and inspired his gallant army. It was at Sara-
toga Springs during his transfer from the palace coach
on which he traveled from New York to Saratoga
to the car that was to convey him up the mountain to
MacGregor. The Grand Army veterans and the local
national guard company gave the distinguished visitor
a military salute. The general raised himself on his
crutches, took in the situation at a glance, and as he
acknowledged the salute with his hand, the old-time
light came into the eye, and the foremost general of
modern times was recognized in the person of the
almost helpless invalid.

Thursday, July 23, 1SS5, the news of the brave gen-
eral and honored ex-President's death was flashed over
the wires from the top of Mount MacGregor, and a
whole nation was in mourning. Old soldiers met in the
streets and grasped each other by the hand. " The old
commander's dead," was about all they could say; their
sorrow was too deep for words. From all sections of

DOWN IN DIXIE.

the Union, and from across the ocean messages of con-
dolence and sympathy were sent to the bereaved family
at MacGregor.

I attended the funeral of the dead hero at Mount
MacGregor, Tuesday, August 4, 1SS5. Of the pall-
bearers two, Buckner and Joe Johnston, had fought
under the stars and bars, while Sherman and Sheridan
had been the deceased commander's most trusted lieu-
tenants. Never before had a funeral taken place under
such circumstances. The exercises were remarkably
impressive. The closing verse of the beautiful hymn
which was sung before the Rev. Dr. J. P. Newman began
his memorial sermon seemed particularly appropriate:

" When ends life's transient dream ;
When death's cold, sullen stream

Shall o'er me roll ;
Blest Saviour, then in love,
Fear and distress remove ;
O bear me safe above —

A ransom'd soul."

After Dr. Newman's glowing tribute came the
closing hymn, led by Mrs. Whitney, soprano, of Boston,
and in which the congregation joined :

" Nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer to Thee !
E'en though it be a cross

That raiseth me ;
Still all my song shall be —
Nearer, my God, to Thee I

Nearer to Thee ! "

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As the echoes of the general's favorite hymn rang
through the tall trees that surmounted the mountain
top, the benediction was pronounced, and the remains of
the old commander were borne to the funeral train.
Gen. Hancock was in charge. Down the mountain
to Saratoga the train proceeded. At the village the
casket was transferred to the funeral car in which the
remains were taken to Albany and subsequently to New
York. The gallant Sherman, Sheridan, Hancock and
other noble heroes have since answered their last roll-
call on earth — gone to swell the ranks of the great
majority beyond the river. In a few years the veterans
who fought under Grant will all pass over, but their
deeds of valor will ever live in song and story. The
name of Grant is inscribed on the nation's roll of pa-
triots side by side with that of the martyred Lincoln.
Of the hero of Appomattox it can be truly said that he
was

"Our greatest, yet with least pretense,
Great in council and great in war,
Foremost captain of his time,
Rich in saving common sense,
And, as the greatest only are,
In his simplicity sublime."

Note — This chapter was published in the Troy Daily Times at the time of Gen. Gr;
death, and it is deemed best toinsert it without change, although the events are not presented in chi
logical order with the other chapters. — S. P. A.

CHAPTER VI.

The Company Cook and the Soldiers Rations — Soap in the
Soup — A Stag Da nee— The Army Sutler — A Whiskey
Barrel Tapped at Both Ends— The Long Roll — Breaking up
Winter Quarters — Good Tilings from Nome — Stripped for
the Fight.

N winter quarters kitchens were erected
and men were detailed from each com-
pany to act as cooks. It was easy
enough to find soldiers who would sing-
out "here!" when the first sergeant in-
quired if there was a good cook in the
ranks. Thoughts of extra food and " every night in
bed " sometimes prompted men who had never even
fried a slice of pork to step to the front and announce
themselves as experts in the culinary art. These
pretenders, however, were not permitted to spoil more
than one day's rations. As soon as the soldiers had
sampled the mystery into which their allowance of
food had been transformed bv the greenhorn kettle

DOWN IN DIXIE.

slingers, there was trouble in the camp until a change
was made in the cook house.

One day a company I boy found a piece of soap in
his soup. The discovery was not made until he had
stowed away nearly all the contents of his quart cup.
He had felt the lump in the bottom with his spoon, and
had congratulated himself on the supposed mistake of
the cook in leaving a piece of beef in the broth. He
raised it out of the cup and held it up on his spoon to
exhibit it to less fortunate comrades, saying :

" Nothing like being on the right side of the cook,
boys. How's that for beef ? "

"It's rather light-colored for Government ox — let
me see ! If it isn't soap I'm a marine."

" Soap ? "

" Yes, soap ! "

" And in my soup ! Boys, that cook's time has
come. Who'll stand by me till I make him eat this
piece of soap? "

" You'll have to go it alone; you're on the right side
of the cook, you know. We've got nothing to do with
it. He knows better than to give us soup with soap
in it."

" But, hold on a minute ; all the soup came out of
the same kettle."

" Sure enough ; he's soap-souped us all. Go ahead ;
we're with you."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The cook would have been roughly handled had he
not called on the officer of the day for protection. The
cook protested that the soap had not been in the soup
kettle, but must have fallen off the shelf over the win-
dow as the soldier held his tin cup through the opening
to receive his soup. This theory was gladly accepted
by all but the trooper who had found the soap in his
cup. By this time he was too sick to be aggressive.

" Boys, send my body home," he moaned.

" Soap suds," chorused the troopers who had been
relieved from the terrible suspicion that they had been
fed on soap also. The poor victim was given a drink
of hospital brandy as soon as he could retain anything
on his stomach. He was on the sick report for four or
five days.

Paragraph 1,190 of the Revised Regulations for the
Army (1863), fixed the soldier's daily ration as follows :

Twelve ounces of pork or bacon, or one pound and four ounces of salt or
fresh beef ; one pound and six ounces of soft bread or flour, or one pound of hard
bread, or one pound and four ounces of corn meal ; and to every one hundred
rations, fifteen pounds of peas or beans, and ten pounds of rice or hominy; ten
pounds of green coffee, or eight pounds of roasted (or roasted and ground) coffee,
or one pound and eight ounces of tea; fifteen pounds of sugar; four quarts of
vinegar; one pound and four ounces of adamantine or star candles ; four pounds
of soap; three pounds and twelve ounces of salt; four ounces of pepper; thirty
pounds of potatoes, when practicable, and one quart of molasses.

I have quoted the exact language of the regulations
for the information of civilians who every now and then
inquire of the veterans: "What did the Government

,m03m

'soap in my soup!" he exclaimed.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

feed you fellows on down in Dixie ? " Hard-tack, salt
pork and coffee were the soldier's mainstay. The
sweetest meal I ever ate consisted of crumbs of hard-
tack picked up out of the dirt, where the boxes had
been opened to issue crackers to the troops, and a piece
of salt pork that had been thrown away by an infantry
soldier. I still cherish the memory of that feast.

There were two or three violinists in our battalion,
and the boys occasionally induced these musicians to
fiddle for a " stag dance," as they called the old-fashioned
quadrille in which troopers with their caps off went
through " ladies' chain " and other figures prescribed for
the fair partners in the regulation dance. The dances
took place by the light of the camp fires between re-
treat and tattoo. The boys managed to get a good deal
of enjoyment out of these gatherings.

Durino- the war a great many men made fortunes
by selling goods of various kinds, including provisions,
to the soldiers. The army traders took big chances
after the spring campaign opened, unless they packed
up and moved to the rear as the troops marched to the
front. Yet there were sutlers who followed the army
even on dangerous expeditions into the enemy's country.
The boys contended that if a trader could sell one
wagon load of goods at sutler's prices — and get his pay
— he could afford to retire or to lose five or six wagon
loads. There was much truth in the statement.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Among many stories current in the Army of the
Potomac about "euchring the sutler," as the soldiers
called any trick by which they could secure goods with-
out coming down with the cash, was the following :

The troops were in bivouac on the James River.
The boys received four months' pay, and there was no
place to buy anything except at the sutler's. The
trader took advantage of the situation and marked his
goods up fifty per cent. He had just received a barrel
of whiskey, which he was retailing at fifty cents a glass.
The sutler's glass held a little more than a thimbleful.
There was a run on the whiskey for a time. Then trade
slacked up, and the sutler was at a loss to account for
it, as it was contrary to all precedent, the rule being
that the more liquor the boys got the more they wanted.

Finally the call for whiskey ceased.

"What's the matter with the men?" the sutler
asked one of his clerks.

" I don't know — they never acted like this before."

" They're not buying our whiskey."

" No."

" And many of them seem to be getting drunk."

" That's so."

" Must be somebody else's selling in camp. I
thought we had a corner on whiskey."

" So did I."

" Well, you go out and see what you can find."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The clerk was gone about five minutes.

" Have we competition ? " inquired the sutler, as the
clerk returned to the tent.

" Well, I should say so."

" What are they selling at ? "

" Twenty-five cents a drink."

" Just half our price ? "

" Yes."

" Where are they located ? "

" Right outside our tent."

" Where do they keep their liquor ? "

" Take hold of the barrel with me and I'll show you."

The sutler was surprised to find a faucet in the rear
end of the barrel as well as in the front end from which
he had been drawing.

" Somebody tapped this barrel from the outside," he
exclaimed.

" Yes, and retailed your liquor at twenty-five cents a
drink while you asked fifty. It's no wonder they drew
all the customers," said the clerk.

" There's but a little whiskey left in the barrel — not
more'n a gallon. Don't sell another drop for less than
two dollars a glass."

A Down East Yankee had made the discovery that
the sutler's whiskey barrel was so placed that one end of
it, as it was resting on boxes, touched the canvas. He
went around behind the tent, cut a hole through the

DOWN IX DIXIE.

canvas, and after borrowing a brace and bit from an
extra-duty man in the quartermaster's department and a
faucet from another comrade in the commissary depart-
ment, he tapped the
sutler's whiskey barrel
and did a thriving
business, the enterprise
being advertised by
word of mouth through
the camp.

It never failed to
be noised about that
something was in the
wind several days be-
fore the receipt of or-
ders for any movement
of importance. The
great multitudes of
citizens who bore arms
under the flag of the
Union to put down the rebellion, had a way of thinking
for themselves, and of making observations of what
transpired around them, that was exasperatingly fatal to
the regular red-tape idea that a soldier was a machine
and nothing more. When it became necessary to per-
form daring deeds in the very jaws of death, the intelli-
gent Yankee volunteers were capable of understanding

TAPPING THE SUTLER'S WHISKEY UAKREL.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

that sacrifice was demanded. And they made it, bravely
and without complaint.

Whenever a big thing was on the programme it was
next to impossible to keep it quiet. The old soldiers
seemed to grasp the situation intuitively, and the re-
cruits generally knew more about it, or thought they
did, than the generals themselves.

There were certain signs in our military existence
that came to be accepted as reliable. Orders from bri-
gade headquarters to have the horses well shod at once,
meant a cavalry expedition into the enemy's country.
Extra ammunition for the light batteries that belonged
to the cavalry corps meant that the movement was to be
a reconnaissance in force. The assembling of a division
or two of infantry in battle trim near the cavalry outposts,
with several days' commissary stores in transit, showed
that an attempt was to be made to gobble up another
slice of the Confederacy or make a break in the com-
munications of the rebels. The issuing of dog tents,
extra ammunition and commissary supplies as a rule
preceded the starting of an expedition against the
enemy. A sudden dashing out of camp, light saddle,
and unencumbered with anything but arms and ammu-
nition, in response to a signal from the outposts, always
gave rise to the suspicion, frequently confirmed in the
heat of battle, that the Johnnies were making an expe-
dition against us.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The rumors of a general advance came thicker and
faster the last week in April, and May the third the long
roll was sounded by the brigade buglers. The breaking
up of winter quarters was always attended with scenes
that were excruciatingly funny. What a lot of worthless
old plunder the soldiers would accumulate ! It always
required sorting over a dozen times before the boys
could really determine just what to leave behind. And
then it invariably happened that after the very last thing
that they could spare or think of abandoning had been
cast out the inspecting officers would poke around and
order us to throw out the articles we prized most highly.

Railroad communication with Washington and the
North had made it comparatively easy for us to secure
creature comforts, and many delicacies from the homes
of the boys in blue reached our camp. Waterman had
received a large-sized packing box full of good things to
eat, from his parents. The goodies were shared among
" our four " — Waterman, Taylor, Horn and myself.

The first feed we had after the cover of Waterman's
box was taken off brought tears to our eyes — tears of
joy, of course — but somehow the taste of the home-made
pies and cake produced a longing for home and mother
which was made all the more intense as the contents of
the box disappeared and we came face to face with the
stern reality that a return to " mule beef and hard-tack "
was inevitable.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Waterman's parents resided only a short distance
from where my father and mother lived in Berlin, and
when his box was sent my family helped to fill and pack
the box. Then when the dear people at home thought
our food must be getting low another box was packed
by my parents, and Waterman's family contributed some
of the good things. It was sent by express, but owing
to the increased demand upon the railroads and trains
to forward munitions of war to the Army of the Potomac,
my box did not reach Warrenton until the morning
that we started for the Wilderness. The company was
drawn up in line waiting to move forward when a Gov-
ernment wagon arrived loaded with boxes and packages
for the troopers. My long-expected box was thrown out
of the wagon, and I obtained permission to interview it.

I pried off the cover, and as I caught a glimpse of the
good things from home, I felt like annihilating the
quartermaster's department that had held back my box
while extra supplies of ammunition and commissary
stores had been dispatched to the front. Just then the
bugler at brigade headquarters sounded " forward."
There was no time to waste. I did the best I could
under the circumstances — filled my haversack, and in-
vited the boys in the company to help themselves, after
" our four " had stowed away all we could. The second
platoon swept down on that box, and in less than a
minute the boys were eating home-made pies and

DOWN IN DIXIE.

cookies all along the line. A picture or two, a pair of
knit socks and a few souvenirs were secured by Water-
man and myself.

" Attention, company ! "

" Prepare to mount ! "

" Mount ! "

" Form ranks ! "

" By fours, march ! " and we were en route to the
Rapidan. It was the last taste of home-made grub that
we enjoyed till the campaign was over. We secured
the makings of a square meal now and then while raid-
ing around Richmond, but the territory had been for-
aged so often that it was considered mighty poor picking
the last two years of the war.

As we rode forward, we found that everybody was on
the march or getting ready to leave. Lines of tents
were disappearing on all sides as the long roll sounded
through the camps. Supply trains were moving out,
and everything was headed about due south. As we
rode by the bivouacs of the infantry, the foot soldiers,
imitating the Johnnies, would sing out :

" Hay, there ! where be you all goin' ? "

" Bound for Richmond."

" But we all are not ready to move out yet."

" Then we'll drive you out."

" You all can't whip we all. Bob Lee will drive you
all back as he has done before."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Then there would be a general laugh all along the
line at the expression in this semi-serious way of an idea
that had gained a strong lodgment in the minds of
many "peace patriots " at the North. The soldiers at
the front who were doing their best to crush out rebel-
lion did not share in the feeling that the Jeff Davis
government would carry the clay. The veterans of
Gettysburg and of Antietam knew that the Union army
was in no respect inferior to the chivalry of the South
— man to man. All the Army of the Potomac needed
to enable it to fight Lee's army to the finish, and win,
was a commander that knew what fighting to a finish
meant. Would the new commander fill the bill ?

President Lincoln, in presenting Grant's commission
as lieutenant-general at the White House, March 9,
1864, assured the modest hero from the West that "as
the country herein trusts you, so, under God, it will sus-
tain you." A few days after the lieutenant-general
remarked: "The Army of the Potomac is a very fine
one, and has shown the highest courage. Still, I think
it has never fought its battles through." The Army of
the Potomac was waiting for a general who would give
it an opportunity to " fight its battles through." All
eyes were fixed on the lieutenant-general. The result
is recorded in history.

As we pressed toward the Rapidan there were evi-
dences all about us that the Army of the Potomac was

DOWN IN DIXIE.

stripping for the fight. All superfluous baggage and
trappings were left behind. The army was ready to
strike a powerful blow at its old adversary, and the con-
flict was at hand. Sheridan was at the head of the
cavalry corps. As we came in sight of the Rapidan and
made preparations for swimming the river with our
horses to cover the laying of the pontoon bridges, so
that the infantry and artillery could cross, we felt that a
few days would determine whether the Army of the Po-
tomac would go " on to Richmond," or, bleeding and
shattered from an unsuccessful onslaught upon Lee's
veterans, fall back to its old quarters, as it had done on
other occasions.

CHAPTER VII.

The very Man Grant Wanted — Sheridan at the Head of the
Cavalry — Lively Times in the Wilderness — Falling Back —
Little Phil to the Rescue — A Close Call for the Doe tors — Tin-
First Night After the Opening of the Fight — A Town in
Mourning.

H HIL SHERIDAN never led his men
into a ticklish place and left them to get
out by themselves. He never sent his
soldiers on a dangerous expedition with-
out arranging to have assistance at
-» ^ f^ T ft hand if there was a suspicion that help
would be needed. And he never asked
his men to go where he was not willing to go himself.
I wish I had known all this on the morning of
Thursday, May 5, 1S64. It would have saved me from
a great deal of worry about the fate of the cavalry corps
in the Wilderness, and also from no little anxiety as to
what was to become of the youngest trooper in Com-
pany I, First Massachusetts cavalry. But Sheridan was

DOWN IN DIXIE.

new to the Army of the Potomac. He came East with
Grant. The old soldiers in our brigade had' done con-
siderable kicking because a number of cavalry generals
who had raided around in Virginia, had been jumped
by Sheridan.

Gen. Grant in his " Memoirs," says, referring to his
assuming command of the Army of the Potomac: "In
one of my early interviews with the President, I ex-
pressed my dissatisfaction with the little that had been
accomplished by the cavalry so far in the war, and the
belief that it was capable of accomplishing much more
than it had done if under a thorough leader. I said I
wanted the very best man in the army for that com-
mand. Halleck was present, and spoke up, saying,
'How would Sheridan do?' I replied, 'The very
man I want.' The President said I could have any-
body I wanted. Sheridan was telegraphed for that day,
and on his arrival was assigned to the cavalry corps of
the Army of the Potomac."

Grant was right — he was always right — and Little
Phil not only proved a thorough leader of the cavalry
corps, but he demonstrated his ability to command an
army in one of the most successful campaigns of the war.

" Where are our bosses ? " demanded a Berkshire
boy, who was one of the first to come up with the ser-
geant and two men left to guide us to the reserve, as
stated in the last chapter.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" In the woods back up the turnpike about a mile."

" This is a nice way to treat American soldiers ! "
exclaimed a corporal, who had left both his boots in the
mud in the plowed field. " I can't run through black-
berry brush barefooted ! "

" I'm going to camp here till they bring back my
horse and something to eat. I didn't enlist to caper
around on foot in such a place as this," said another.

I volunteered to take the sergeant's steed and go
and see that the horses were sent to meet us, but at
that moment there was heard the noise of the rebel
cavalry coming in on our flank crashing through the
bushes.

" You couldn't manage my horse — he's so fiery," said
the sergeant. " I can't hold him when he takes it into
his head to go where the other horses are."

Away went the sergeant and the two men who had
been left with him, on a gallop up the road.

" Follow me ! " shouted the sergeant, as he put
spurs to his charger.

We followed.

As the sergeant and his two companions turned a
bend in the road, rebel cavalrymen, who had penetrated
the jungle almost to the turnpike, opened fire on the
three troopers. It was a race for life. The bullets
whistled close to the ears of the Federals as they dashed
by the Johnnies in ambush. Then the saddle girth of

DOWN IN DIXIE.

one of the privates gave way, and the terrified trooper
was left sitting on his saddle in the middle of the road,
his horse going on with the procession. He shouted,
"Whoa!" The " rebel yell " went up as the Yankee
went down. It stimulated him to the greatest effort of
his life. Springing to his feet he held the saddle be-
tween his head and the Confederates to shield off their
bullets, and darted into the bushes to the left of the
turnpike. As he reached the thicket he threw the sad-
dle back into the road and shouted defiantly at his
would-be executioners :

" Take the old saddle, you infernal asses. I've got
no use for it without a horse ! "

Then he bounded away through the forest, keeping
well to the left of the road. He was a pitiable sight
when he rejoined the company that night. His clothes
were literally torn off. He would not have been pre-
sentable at all if an artilleryman had not given him
a spare shirt. It may be stated that several others
reported to their company commander in about the
same fix.

Some of us had taken such a deep interest in what
was going on up the turnpike, that we almost forgot
the rebels who were looking for us. I remember that
I laughed, tired and concerned for my own safety
though I was. The ludicrous figure cut bv our com-
rade as he glanced around him when he landed in the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

road and yelled "Whoa!" — as if a runaway horse
would stop under such circumstances — was too much
for my risibility. But I did not have my laugh out. It
was interrupted by one of our sergeants shouting:

" Streak it, boys — here they come ! "

We made nearly as good time in getting away from
that place as the mounted troopers had scored, and for
the same reason. The butternut-clad cavalrymen fired
their carbines almost in our faces at the first round.
We needed no further notice to take to the woods. It
was entirely unnecessary for " our six-footer corporal "
to urge us to " remember Lot's wife," as he led the re-
treat over the brow of the hill and bounded down the
slope out of range.

As I halted after crossing the divide to catch my
breath, a terrible racket broke out in the woods to the
right. As near as I could judge, not having paid much
attention to the points of the compass, there was trouble
somewhere in the vicinity of the turnpike where we had
parted with the Confederates. There was no mistaking
the sounds. There was fighting out there in the woods,
and the cheering of Federal cavalrymen was heard above
the yell of our late pursuers.

" We're licking 'em out o' their boots ! " said my
bunkey, who had kept neck and neck with me through
the woods.

" That's what we're doinc"

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" I'd go back and take a hand if I had a horse."

" So would I."

Several of our boys ventured to the top of the hill,
and then along the ridge toward the turnpike. They
soon came to a rail fence, and on the other side of it
was a squadron of Federal cavalry drawn up in line.

It did not take us long to introduce ourselves. We
ascertained from the troopers who belonged to the
Tenth New York that our regiment was on the other
side of the road about a quarter of a mile north. By
this time the firing on our front had dwindled down to
irregular skirmishing.

As we were getting over the fence to go in the
direction pointed out, Sheridan rode up. He came
from the front, and was greeted with a hearty cheer
that was echoed by cavalry posted away to the left, and
also by those of us who had breath enough left to shout.
" Little Phil " waved his hat, which he was holding in
his hand.

" Our line is all right, boys," and he galloped up the
turnpike to report to Grant, who was at Meade's
headquarters.

Sheridan had inflicted severe punishment on the
rebel cavalry that had come in on our flank. He was
informed of the condition of affairs at the front, and at
the time our battalion was ordered to fall back, a line
had been formed further up the turnpike ready to

DOWN IN DIXIE.

receive the rebels. The road was left clear, and as
Hampton's " critter companies " followed the dis-
mounted Union troopers, they fell into the trap. Then
they went back faster than they had come. Sheridan's
troopers charged, and the chagrined gray-coats were
driven way beyond the ravine where our battalion had
held the line of the rail fence before our ammunition
failed.

As the memory of that day's events comes to me
now, there is a sprinkling of regret that I was forced to
"streak it" through the Wilderness. It completely
destroyed my confidence in the ability of our regiment
to put down the rebellion single-handed at one fell
swoop. And, moreover, a good many of us were almost
naked when we reached the horses after our run through
the forest. Yet it was necessary that sacrifices should
be made. Sheridan was fishing .with live bait, and it
was part of the programme that the bait should be kept
moving.

When I reached my company, which was waiting
orders near the turnpike leading to Todd's Tavern, I
was informed that my horse had been killed by a shell
while the animals were being led to the rear. I felt
the loss of my horse keenly. And then my saddle-bags
were gone, with the picture of my best girl and other
memories of home.

Orders came for the regiment to move a little further

DOWN IN DIXIE.

to the left. An infantry brigade was forming on our
right. There had been serious business on the other
side of a strip of woods to the right of the line occupied
by the cavalry. Wounded men were carried to the rear
on stretchers. Several army surgeons had ventured to
establish a field hospital well up to the front line. The
Johnnies may have had a hankering for the medical
stores in the hospital chests that were unpacked so
temptingly near the enemy, for they made a dash for
the wagons. But this time the Confederates made a
mistake. The infantry holding the line in front of the
" doctors' den " peppered the gray-coats until the would-be
consumers of United States spiritus fermenti were glad
to turn and get back out of range as fast as their legs
could carry them.

The narrow escape of the medical men showed that
they had spread out their operating instruments too near
the enemy, and the base of operations was removed over
a hill to the rear. There was a stampede when the
rebels charged to break the line in front of the field
hospital, and a horse belonging to one of the surgeons
dashed down the turnpike. The infantrymen made no
effort to stop the animal — the average foot soldier was
afraid of a horse — and it occurred to me that the horse
was just about what I needed to complete my outfit.
My heart beat a double tattoo as I attempted to spread
myself across the road to intercept the runaway. He

DOWN IN DIXIE.

came on at full speed, but as he shied toward the fence
to pass by me, I was fortunate enough to catch the
bridle rein, and that horse was mine — till further
orders.

I examined the saddle girths and found everything
in good shape. After I had taken up the stirrup straps

— the doctor's legs were considerably longer than mine

— I mounted the prize, and once more felt there was a

TAKING POSSESSION' OF THE RUNAWAY.

possibility that the Southern Confederacy might be con-
quered ! Then I took an inventory of the contents of
the doctor's saddle-bags. There was a bottle of hospital
brandy in one of the bags. It was the " genuine stuff,"
as Sergeant Warren remarked that night when I allowed
him to sample it. I investigated further and found a
field glass, several boxes of pills, a few rolls of bandages

DOWN IN DIXIE.

and lint, with a small case of instruments. There were
two six-shooters in the holsters on the pommel of the
saddle, and a surgeon's regulation sword fastened on the
left side. A canteen, and a haversack containing a
couple of ham sandwiches, a piece of cheese and a can
of condensed milk were included in the outfit. I
whistled dinner call at once, and made an excellent
meal on what the medical man had provided for his
supper. Then I rejoined my company.

The Wilderness was full of terror when night came
on and spread its mantle of darkness over the scenes of
bloodshed. On every hand could be heard the groans
of the wounded and dying. The gathering of the un-
fortunates went on all night, and the poor fellows were
borne to the field hospitals. There was heavy firing at
intervals. Here and there the bivouac fires lighted up
the otherwise Eygptian darkness and served to make
the shadows all the darker, and to give the surroundings
a weird and dismal aspect. It seemed as if daylight
would never return. When it did break we hailed it
joyfully, although we knew that the light of the new-
born day would witness a renewal of the conflict.

We did not unsaddle our horses that night, but
along about midnight we were given an opportunity to
feed our chargers and make coffee for ourselves. Pre-
ceding the feed the company rolls were called by the
first sergeants. In Company I not more than fifty per

DOWN IN DIXIE.

cent, of the number on the roll responded — I mean of
the number that had charged down the turnpike Thurs-
day morning. A majority of the boys who failed to
show up at the first roll-call in the Wilderness put in an
appearance later on.

It was the same with other regiments. In a battle
like that of the Wilderness there was a good deal of the
go-as-you-please, especially if there were charges and re-
treats and frequent changes in formations. Details
would be made from companies for skirmishes and
other duties, and the men so detailed when they re-
turned were unable to find their companies, their regi-
ments having been transferred to another part of the
field. I recall an incident of the Battle of the Wilderness
that was the cause of a whole town going into mourning :

Company B of the One hundred and twenty-fifth
New York Volunteers contained many Berlin boys. In
one of the movements in the Wilderness that regiment
marched past the First Massachusetts. I was on the
watch for Company B. I think it was after the second
day's battle. The One hundred and twenty-fifth had
been fighting furiously somewhere near the Brock road,
and the slaughter had been great. The ranks of the
regiment were depleted, and when I spotted the Berlin
boys I saw that B Company had suffered badly. There
were only two or three faces that I recognized. Rube
Fry was one, I think.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Halloo, Company B ! "

" Halloo ! — there's Alex Allen's boy."

" Where's the rest of the company — the Berlin
boys ? "

" All killed but six."

" It will be sad news for Berlin."

" Yes ; and it will be a wonder if any of us escape if
we don't get out of the Wilderness pretty soon."

" It will indeed."

" Good-by."

" Good-by, Rube. I'll write home if I get a chance."

I got the chance the day that we started on Sheri-
dan's raid — May S. I wrote the news just as I had
received it. There was mourning all over the town
when that letter reached Berlin. The news from the
front was contradicted, however, soon after by letters
from several of the boys who had been included in the
list of casualties I had sent home. It seems that a part
of the One hundred and twenty-fifth was sent on
picket duty to the left, and a charge had been made by
the men not included in the detail. Lieut.-Col. A. B.
Myer and thirty-four men out of one hundred and four
who made the charge were killed. Somehow the report
had been started that all the rest of the regiment had
been killed or wounded or taken prisoners. I was re-
joiced to learn when I next met the One hundred and
twenty-fifth, after Sheridan's raid, that the report of

DOWN IN DIXIE.

the casualties in Company B sent home in my letter
after the Battle of the Wilderness was exaggerated.

I find in the roster of B Company as given in
the history of the One hundred and twenty-fifth New
York Volunteers by Chaplain Ezra D. Simons of that
regiment, that none of B Company was killed in the
Wilderness, and only five were wounded.

But B Company did not escape so luckily in the
battle of Spottsylvania, following close on the heels of
the Wilderness. Several were killed outright and a
number wounded. The company lost twenty-four men,
killed and died, during its service — a number far above
the average of companies throughout the army. The
One hundred and twenty-fifth made a splendid record.
I was always glad to run across the regiment at the
front, and to compare notes with the Berlin boys in
Company B.

CHAPTER VIII.

A Council of War— Observations at Daylight — The Second
Day in the Wilderness — Xot to Fall Back— The Rebel Yell
— 1 lie Third Day — Custer at Work — An Ideal Cavalry
Officer

T daybreak we expected to renew the
Battle of the Wilderness — if the rebels
did not pitch into us again during the
L^Rf°x) /*V night. The enlisted men of our com-
<^J> - a pany held a council of war before any
- •—-'tftfc of them availed themselves of the privi-
lege of turning in for a snooze.
" I wonder if the Johnnies will skedaddle before
morning? " said one of the boys who had been back at
Ely's ford and had not participated in the first day's fight.
" You had better take a sleep. We'll call you if the
enemy shows up before reveille."

" All right, here goes. I can sleep one night more
with a clear conscience, for my hands have not been
stained with the blood of a single enemy."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Of course, these remarks were made jokingly. No
matter how serious the situation might be, there was
always a disposition among the soldiers to make light
of it. After the " re-enforcement " had retired the coun-
cil was continued.

" I don't think it's fair to ask the cavalry to fight on
foot as we did yesterday."

" But what else could we do when we come to that
high fence ? "

" We might have stopped and waited for the
Johnnies to charge us."

" Well, I guess Phil Sheridan knows how to fight
his men better'n we know ourselves."

" We'll have another fight in the morning."

" Certainly."

" And there'll be more of us killed and wounded."

" Yes."

" I wonder whether we're whipped, or the rebels
have got the worst of it ?

" Can't tell till daylight, we're all mixed up so."

" But Grant must know."

" That's so — but where's Grant?"

" He's with Meade back near that old quartz mill
where we had dinner the day we crossed the Rapidan."

" The lieutenant told me that Grant's orders are for
our side to make an attack at three o'clock."

" Then we're not whipped."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Not if we've got orders to open the ball in the
morning. Let's get what rest we can."

" All right."

About three o'clock Friday morning — we were
taking turns in sleeping — I called upon my bunkey to
"get out of bed and let me get in."

" I haven't been asleep yet."

" That's your own fault ; you've had time enough."

" I was just getting good and sleepy — but I'm not
piggish. Take the bed."

I stretched myself on the piece of tent, and tried to
go to sleep. But it was no easy thing to settle down.
The events of the day — the attack on our picket line,
charging down the turnpike, exciting experiences at the
rail fence, fighting on foot, charging across the plowed
field, holding the enemy in check, falling back when
flanked by the rebels, Sheridan's punishment of our
pursuers — all crowded themselves to the front, and it
seemed a year since we broke camp at Warrenton. I
had never been in a pitched battle before, and I tried to
remember the events in their order that I might be
able to write them down as a basis tor a letter to friends
at home. The more I tried to straighten things out
the more I got mixed. I dropped to sleep, but just
as I was describing the battle to a group of villagers
at Berlin, I was brought suddenly back to the front by
a sergeant who was poking me with his siber scabbard.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Private Allen, turn out for picket."

" But I've only just turned in. There's my bunkey;
can't you take him ? he's already turned out after a good
long nap " —

" No back talk, out with you ! "

I was on my feet as soon as I awoke sufficiently to
realize the situation.

" Mount your horse, and report to Sergeant Murphy
out there in the road. Is your cartridge box full ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Hundred rounds extra in your saddle-bags? "

" Yes, sir."

" Mount at will, and go ahead."

Sergeant Murphy took charge of a detail from sev-
eral companies. We rode down the road a few rods,
and a staff officer then assumed command of the
detachment.

" We're to go out beyond the picket line and watch
the movements of the rebels at daybreak," the lieutenant
informed Sergeant Murphy.

In fifteen minutes we were at the last picket post
out toward Todd's Tavern.

" Detail a man to ride ahead, Sergeant," the officer
directed.

I had ridden close up to the officer to hear all I
could about the prospects of a fight, and the sergeant
detailed me.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" The object of keeping a man well to the front,"
the officer said to the sergeant, " is to draw the' enemy's
fire should we run into the rebel pickets, and thus pre-
vent the detachment from falling into an ambush."

" Very proper, sir," assented the sergeant.

" You will ride down the road, keeping a hundred
yards or so from the head of the column," the lieuten-
ant said to me. " Load your carbine and keep it ready
for use, but don't fire unless the enemy opens on you,
for it is desired to secure a favorable position for watch-
ing the movements of the rebels as soon as it is light
enough."

It was quite dark down there in the woods. I did
not take kindly to the thought that I was to be used as
a target for the rebel pickets. This riding to the front
to draw the enemy's fire was a new experience to me.
But I tried to comfort myself with the hope that we
were so far out on the left that we would not encounter
the Confederates.

The advance business was as new to the doctor's
horse as it was to me. I had to use my spurs freely to
induce him to go down the road ahead of the other
horses. We got started after awhile, and the still hunt
for Lee's right and rear was begun.

It was lonesome work for man and beast. Suddenly,
and without any intimation of what he intended to do.
the horse began to neigh. It may have been in the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

animal's " ordinary tone of voice," but to me it seemed
to be loud enough to be heard way back to the Rapi-
dan. I expected the Johnnies would open fire at once.
The staff officer rode up to me — after waiting long
enough for me to draw the enemy's fire if they were
close at hand — and said :

" What's the matter?"

" Horse ' whickered,' sir."

" What made him ? "

" Can't tell, sir; he broke out without any notice."

" Ever do it before ? "

" Don't know. I only got him yesterday afternoon.
He belonged to an infantry doctor who was shot."

11 That accounts for it ; a doughboy horse don't
know anything about this kind of work! Take your
place at the rear of the detachment, and if that horse
neighs again, break his head with your carbine."

" All right, sir."

Another man was sent to the front, and we moved
on. YVe did not run into the rebel pickets, and the
officer said we must be further to the left than the
right of Lee's line. We halted on the top of a hill
where the road turned westward and waited for daylight.

As soon as it became light enough for the officer to
take observations with his field-glass, he rode to the
highest point he could find and surveyed the broken
country in our front. He could not see far in any

DOWN IN DIXIE.

direction, as the woods were thick and there was little
cleared land.

" Come here, Sergeant," the lieutenant called to
Murphy, after looking off to the west for a few seconds
through his glass. " Look over there."

" Rebels, sir," said the sergeant.

" Yes ; cavalry moving over this way. We will re-
turn at once."

We went back up the turnpike at a gallop.

•' What's up? " inquired the officer in charge of the
outposts when we reached our pickets.

" The rebels are up and moving around to get on our
left flank. Keep a good lookout and be ready to move
at once. I will report to Gen. Sheridan, and there will
soon be lively work."

Sheridan's cavalry was in the saddle and en route to
Todd's Tavern within twenty minutes after our return
from the reconnaissance in that direction. The cavalry
was to connect with the left of the infantry commanded
bv Gen. Hancock. The staff officer's prediction that
there would be lively work on our left was fulfilled.
Sheridan was in time to intercept Stuart's advance
along the Furnace road, a few miles northwest of Todd's
Tavern. It was hot work.

There was desperate fighting as the troopers came
together at the intersection of the Brock and the Fur-
nace roads. Jeb Stuart's attempt to get around in our

DOWN IN DIXIE.

rear to make a dash on the wagon trains of the Army
of the Potomac, and to smash things generally, was a
complete failure. He was driven back from the Fur-
nace road, and after a stubborn stand at Todd's Tavern
the rebel cavalry leader was forced to call off his troops
and fall back from Sheridan's immediate front.

In the afternoon, having been re-enforced, and after
being ordered by Lee to turn Grant's left, Stuart again
attacked the Federal troopers. He was assisted by in-
fantry, but Little Phil refused to budge an inch from
the position held at Todd's Tavern. The rebels were
driven back with heavy loss. In the meantime the
entire army was engaged, and the fighting was con-
tinued all day.

A rebel trooper of Fitzhugh Lee's division, taken
prisoner the evening of May 6, inquired :

" Who's you all fightin' under this time ? "

" Grant."

" I reckoned so ; but who's overseer of the critter
companies ? "

" Sheridan."

" He's a doggoned good 'un. Fitz Lee knew what
he was talkin' 'bout when he told Wade Hampton that
we all would be 'bliged to take care of our own flanks
this trip."

" You're right, Johnny."

" Be you all headed for Richmond, sure 'nough ? "

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" That's where we're going."

" Bat what be you all to do with me? "

" We'll send you North, and let you live on the fat
of the land till we gobble up the rest of the rebel army."

" Stranger, do you mean it ? "

" Certainly."

" Hallelujah ! I'm ready to be fatted. Where's
you all's commissary department ? "

He was sent to the rear with the other prisoners.

At the close of the second day's battle in the Wil-
derness, the report was current among the troopers of
Sheridan's cavalry corps, that the Army of the Potomac
would retire from the front of Lee's army in that Vir-
ginia jungle and fall back to Fredericksburg, which
would be occupied as a new base of supplies pending
the re-organization of the army to again move " On to
Richmond ! "

There is no denying the fact that the Army of the
Potomac was seriously crippled. An order to fall back
to the north bank of the Rapidan would have been ac-
cepted as a matter of course had the new commander
directed such a movement. But if some of the soldiers
had known Grant better, they would have spent less
time that night in speculating whether the line of re-
treat would be by the Germania plank road or over the
route to Ely's ford.

It turned out that Grant did not discover that the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Yankees were whipped in the Wilderness" until he
read an account of the " rout of the Federal army " in a
Richmond paper at Spottsylvania a few days later. Of
course, it was then too late for the Union commander to
use the information to any advantage. It may be re-
marked also, that Lee had not heard of Grant's defeat
until he received the news via the rebel capital.

There was a disposition on the part of a few-
brigades on the Union right to get back across the
Rapidan without waiting for orders Friday night. Gen.
Gordon of Georgia made a desperate effort to demor-
alize the Federals by charging Grant's right, coming in
on the flank. He gobbled up a brigade or two, and
sent a good many blue-coats flying back toward the
river. But the fugitives could not find their way out of
the Wilderness, and they halted before going far. for
fear they would -get turned around and run into the
enemy. The gallant Sedgwick again demonstrated his
fighting qualities. He did not intend that the colors of
the sixth corps — the banner with the Greek cross —
should go down. Sedgwick brought order out of chaos.
He drove back the Confederates and saved the day —
or the night, as Gordon's charge was made after dark-
ness had set in.

Every hour or so during the night, the Johnnies
would give us the rebel yell. These outbreaks occa-
sioned alarm on our side at first, but after the terrible

DOWN IN DIXIE.

din had died out several times without the appearance
of the boys in butternut, we concluded that the enemy
was shouting to keep up courage for a general attack
in the morning.

We had no opportunity to sleep — I mean to go
into camp and stretch our weary bodies at full length
on the ground for a season. About the time we would
begin to congratulate ourselves on the prospects of a
nap we would be ordered into the saddle, ready to repel
an attack. There were any number of false alarms.
Old soldiers will remember how exasperating it was to
be hustled out at the dead of night, marched here and
there — " up and down and through the middle " — only
to find that somebody had made a bull. We marched
several times during the night, sometimes going a hun-
dred yards. When daylight came Saturday morning
we found ourselves within three hundred yards of the
spot where we bivouacked Friday night. We had been
moved around like men on a checker-board — one man
trying to catch another in the double corner, so to speak ;
"hawing and geeing," as a Berkshire boy expressed it.

The Battle of the Wilderness ended Friday night,
from an infantry standpoint, but Sheridan's cavalry had
fighting enough Saturday to prevent them from getting
rusty. We were given to understand early in the morn-
ing that the army was to go on. While the infantry
were cutting the pegs out of their shoes, and burying

DOWN IN DIXIE.

the dead Saturday, the troopers were feeling the enemy
over on the left toward Spottsylvania. There was a
good deal of trouble in locating Lee's line of battle.
The rebels had not felt safe outside their breastworks
after Gordon had failed to double up our right. When
they were found by our pickets Saturday morning, they
seemed to have lost their thirst for Yankee blood so far
as coming outside to rebuke our curiosity was con-
cerned. A reconnaissance by Gen. Warren of the
Fifth Corps occasioned a suspicion that the infantry
were at it again, as the firing was lively in Warren's
front for a few minutes. Lee did not accept the chal-
lenge, and no general engagement was brought on.

There was a sharp set-to between Stuart's cavalry
and the first brigade of the first division of Sheridan's
corps, commanded by Gen. G A. Custer, early Saturday
morning. The rebels found Custer an ugly customer.
They skedaddled to Todd'sTavern, after vainly trying to
check the advance of the boys in blue.

Gen. Custer was an ideal cavalry officer. He was
something like six feet in height, and sat his horse per-
fectly. He was one of the youngest generals in the
army, having won the star of a brigadier before he was
twenty-four years old. His pleasant blue eye seemed to
fire up with the first intimation of battle. His appear-
ance was all the more striking because of his long
wavy hair and his dashing make-up, which included a

DOWN IN DIXIE.

large red necktie. His brigade adopted the red tie as
a part of their uniform, and Custer's troops could be
distinguished at long range. It was a common saying
in the cavalry corps that the rebels preferred to have
nothing to do with Custer's brigade except at " long
range," and therein the Confederates exhibited excellent
judgment.

Custer was a favorite in the regular army after the
war, and his death — in the Custer massacre in 1876 —
was mourned by soldiers and civilians throughout the
United States.

CHAPTER IX.

Sheridan s Raid — Turning Out Lively — Crossing the North
Anna — Massa Linkuni s Sojcrs — The Tables Turned — The
Name of Mother — A Yankee 's Benediction — Pushing On
From Beaver Dam — " The Kingdom Comui" — The Grave
of Massa Tom — Foraging on the Enemy — The Old Planter
and the Vandal Horde — Yankees Without Horns.

URN out. men! "
^4 " Turn out, lively ! "

" Saddle up — mount at will ! "
We turned out lively enough. The
rebels were shelling our bivouac on the
banks of the North Anna River. It
was just at daylight. Our dreams of home were inter-
rupted by the " pinging " of bullets, and the more
distressing sounds of missiles of larger caliber.
" Look out there ! "
" What's that ? "

" Only a cannon ball, but it's too late to dodge now
— it has gone by."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Get into your saddles, boys — never mind your
haversacks — be sure your ammunition is all right. As
fast as you're saddled up, mount and ride over there
where the major is forming the regiment."

The Johnnies had nearly cheated us out of our sup-
pers Monday night, as they did not cease firing on our
pickets till after ten o'clock. And now they evinced a
disposition to spoil our breakfast. In this they suc-
ceeded, but some of them were severely punished. Sol-
diers are inclined to be ugly when attacked about meal
time, and Fitzhugh Lee's cavalrymen were given a
red-hot reception when they pitched into our boys be-
fore breakfast.

One of our boys got his saddle on with the pommel
to the rear — he must have stood on the off side of his
horse to buckle the saddle girth. After he mounted
his horse he could not get his feet into the stirrups as
they were " hind side afore."

" Halloo, there! what are you facing the wrong way
for?"

" I'm all right ; it's a new wrinkle, don't you see ? I
can about face in the saddle and load and fire on the
Johnnies while my horse keeps going on. I saddled
up this way on purpose."

During the night Fitzhugh Lee had posted a battery
so that he could make it hot for us when we came to
cross the river. And very hot it was for an hour or so.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The shot and shell came tearing through the bushes
skirting the bank. A regiment was deployed to the
rear to hold the rebels in check while the Federal
troopers were crossing. The Confederates were mad —
fighting mad. The)' understood that if Sheridan kept
pushing on without halting his main column to give
battle to the rebels in the rear, the Union cavalry could
ride straight into Richmond. This was what caused
Stuart to draw off the larger part of his command from
the line of the North Anna to get in between Sheridan
and the rebel capital, first making a feint on the south
bank as if to attack Merritt's division in the morning.
We succeeded in getting over the river without great
loss, as the first division covered our crossing, and our
flying artillery did splendid work in silencing the rebel
battery that gave us the most trouble, and then sending
cannon balls among the Johnnies who were peppering
us at close range.

When we reached Beaver Dam Station — or the
ruins of what had been the station the day before — we
found that Custer's brigade had demonstrated the
ability of the Yankee troopers to smash things.

" Golly, massa! " exclaimed a plantation hand, who
had witnessed the capture and destruction of the station,
" dem sojers from Massa Linkum's army dun knock de
bottum out'n de las fing roun heah — shuah's yo born.
Whar's yo all gwine ? "

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Richmond, Uncle."

" 'Pears like yo' mean it, shuah nuff, dis time.
Reckon yo'll get dar if all Massa Lee's sojers am as
skeery ob de Yanks as de crowd dat was heah when yo'
all com' gallopin' cross de bridge las night. Whew !
how dem rebels did run. Spec dey's close to Richmond
by dis time, if dey not slack up some 'fore now."

The old darky was right. Custer had knocked the
bottom out of everything around the station, making a
total wreck. The ruins were still burning, and our boys
were particular that the destruction should be complete.

The mortification of the rebel prisoners was some-
thing ludicrous. Only a few hours before they had been
guarding a detachment of Yankees captured in the
Wilderness. They had reached Beaver Dam Station,
where they had halted for the night. The prisoners
had been assured that their chances of spending a year
or so in Libby prison were of the best. But while the
Confederates were boasting of their ability to whip
Grant's army three to one, Custer's troopers dashed
down on the station, and in a few minutes the fire-eat-
ing F. F. V.'s were ready to throw up both hands and
surrender. Some of the Union boys who had been re-
leased buckled on C. S. A. belts and cartridge boxes,
and stood guard over the crest-fallen gray backs.

An infantry corporal of a Pennsylvania regiment,
had been forced to give up all his personal effects to

DOWN IN DIXIE.

one of the rebel guards when leaving the Wilderness.
The corporal had been " well fixed," as the boys called
it when a comrade had money, a watch, etc. After the
tables had been turned on the Johnnies the corpora],
having taken into custody the man who had robbed him,
at once singled him out, and imitating the voice of the
Johnnie, said :

" That's a fine ring on your finger — think it would
fit me ? Hand it over."

The prisoner surrendered the ring, saying:
" You've got the drop on me this time, Yank."
"Mighty fine watch you carry — you'll have no
chance to keep it in prison where you're going. I'll
take charge of it for you."

The watch was handed over.

"Just go down in your pocket and see how many
greenbacks you can find — you can't spend them in
prison."

A pocket-book with quite a sum of money was
given up.

" Let me see ! They won't allow you to smoke a
meerschaum pipe in prison ; so I'll save that for you till
you get out. I'll guarantee it will be well colored."
The pipe was returned to its owner.
'• Now, that half-pound plug of tobacco, please. You
may bite off one more chaw, as it will probably be the
last you'll get right away."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

The rebel obeyed orders.

" As you will have no tramping to do after you get
to the prison, and I'm liable to be on the go most of
the time, we'd better swap shoes, as mine are nearly
worn out."

The exchange was made.

" That canteen ! "

Handed over.

" Haversack ! "

Surrendered.

" Fine tooth comb ! "

" I shall miss that."

" Suspenders ! "

Handed over.

" Jack-knife ! "

" Here it is."

"Shirt — no, never mind the shirt. I haven't got
yours to return in place of it, for it was so thick with
graybacks when you took it off to put on mine, that it
was run away with. I've no doubt my shirt that
you've got on is in the same fix now, so keep it, Johnnie.
I don't want to be too hard on a stranger. You may
also keep my drawers and stockings, as I can get a sup-
ply from some of my friends in the cavalry. I see
you've got a ring that you didn't take from me. Does
it belong to one of our boys ? "

" No, Yank ; it's mine. It was my mother's. She's

DOWN IN DIXIE.

dead — it's all I have left that was hers. But it's yours
now, as I'm your prisoner. Take it, Yank. It's hard
to give it up."

" I know it is."

" Do you ? "

" Yes ; the ring you took from me was my mother's,
Johnnie. She's dead — no, I can't take your mother's
ring — keep it."

" I took yours, but you didn't tell me it was your
mother's."

" No ; for I didn't believe it would make any
difference."

" It would have made a difference, Yank — sure's
you're born, it would."

There was a grasp of hands as the tears ran down
the faces of the corporal and his prisoner. A tender
chord had been struck in the heart of each. They had
been foes a few minutes before. They were broth-
ers now.

Each had fought for a cause, and would go on
fighting as before. They must continue to be enemies
on the field of battle till the great questions at issue
were settled by the sword. But all this was forgotten
as they spoke of " mother."

The heart beneath the blue and the heart under
the gray beat in unison. Each felt the blessed in-
fluence awakened by the utterance of that magic word

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" mother," which is so beautifully expressed by Fanny
J. Crosby:

" The light, the spell-word of the heart,

Our guiding star in weal or woe.
Our talisman — our earthly chart —

That sweetest name that earth can know.

"We breathed it first with lisping tongue

When cradled in her arms we lay;
Fond memories round that name are hung

That will not, cannot pass away.

" We breathed it then, we breathe it still,

More dear than sister, friend or brother,
The gentle power, the magic thrill

Awakened at the name of Mother."

" Johnnie ? "

" Yes, Yank."

" Take this pipe and tobacco. You'll need them."

" Thank you."

" Here's my pocket-book."

" But you'll need the money ? "

" Not so much as you will. Take it, I say."

" All right, if you insist on it."

'And this fine tooth comb — you'll need that also."

" Yes, I need it now."

" Here's my jack-knife; it'll come handy."

" It will."

" Now take my canteen and haversack — no, don't
refuse ; I can get more. I'll see them filled before we
part."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Thank you, Yank — God bless you ! "

" God bless you, Johnnie ! "

And all who stood by said, " Amen."

So mote it be.

Leaving Beaver Dam Station in ruins, Sheridan's
cavalry corps pushed on toward the rebel capital early
on the morning of Tuesday, May 10.

Not far from Beaver Dam we rode by a Virginia
farmhouse. It was a one-story building, with chimneys
on the outside and an " entry " running through the
center. Two or three plantation hands stood near the
fence, grinning and shouting :

" Bress de Lawd ! "

" Hyar cum Massa Linkum's sojers — bress de

Lawd ! O, Glory ! "

" Are you glad to see us, Uncle ? "

" Yes, massa, 'deed I is."

" Where's the ' massa ' ? "

" He run and gune. Must be de king-dom com-in'."

The old darky had struck the keynote of one of the
ditties that were immensely popular in the Union army.
The boys took up the song. They made it ring as they
rode along :

" Say, dar-keys, hab you seen de mas-sa,
Wid de muff-stash on his face,

Go long de road some time dis morn-in',
Like he gwine to leab de place ?

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He seen a smoke, way up de rib-ber,

Where de Link-urn gum-boats lay;
He took his hat, an' lef berry sud-den,

An' I 'spec he's run away !

Chorus : " De mas-sa run ? ha ! ha !
De dar-keys stay ? ho ! ho !
It nius' be now de king-dom com-in\
An' de year ob Ju-bi lo ! "

At another farmhouse we found a new-made grave
in the dooryard. It was just inside the gate, and to the
right of the walk leading up to the porch. The earth
heaped over the grave was still moist, which showed
that it had been filled in during the morning. A spade
with the letters " C. S. A." burned in the handle, lay be-
side the mound. At one of the windows of the farm-
house we saw the faces of two or three young ladies.
They had been weeping, but it seemed as if they were
holding back their tears till the Yankees should get out
of sight. We concluded that the grave in the yard was
that of their brother. The eyes of many of Sheridan's
raiders filled with tears as they came to understand the
situation, and their minds went back to their own homes
and the dear ones in the North. Mother, sister, sweet-
heart — in a few days they might be weeping over the
news of the death of their soldier boy. Every voice
was hushed. With uncovered heads the troopers rode
by. Their hearts were moved with sympathy for the
distressed household.

A staff officer inquired of an old negro who was

DOWN IN DIXIE.

drawing water for the soldiers at a well near the
house :

" Whose grave is that, Uncle ? "

" Young Massa Tom's, sah."

" And who was ' Massa Tom ' ? "

" He war missus's only son."

" And the brother of the young ladies at the
window ? "

" Yes ; all de brudder dey had. Ole massa he war
killed at Seben Pines. Den young Massa Tom cum
home for a time to look after de plantation. But when
de news cum dat Massa Linkum's army had cross de
Rapid Ann, young massa buckle on he sode an' tell de
young missuses and ole missus dat he obliged to go to
de front. He only lef home Thursday, five days ago.
He war in de Wilderness and war sent wid Yankee
prizners to de station which you all's sojers burn up las'
night. He cum home to supper in de early ebenin, an'
den went back to de station. He said dey spected to
start for Richmond 'fore sun-up dis mornin'. But de
Yankees sweep down on de camp, an' soon de news
cum dat Massa Tom been kill. A party of Massa Lee's
sojers brought young massa's body home, an' bright an'
early dis mornin' we laid him away in de groun'. De
sojers say : ' Better bury him 'fore de Yankees cum
long,' and ole missus say : ' Yes ; dey shall nebber glory
ober my son's dead body.' So Massa Tom war laid

DOWN IN DIXIE.

away. It did seem so cruel like to jest 'rap a blanket
roun' him an' put him in de groud' ; but it won't make
a heep ob diff'nce, I reckon, when de resurreckshun day
shall cum, for de good Lawd will know his chil'ren.

" Poor Massa Tom — he's free. Ole missus say she
'spec I'll run off wid de Yankees now ; but, massa, ole
Ned's gwine to stay by an' help ole missus all he can,
for de time'll soon cum when dis poor ole slave will be
free ! For whom de Lawd make free, he be free
'ndeed."

As we rode away ole Uncle Ned was singing:

" Dar'll be no sor-row dar,
Dar'll be no sor-row dar,
In heb-un a-buv,
Whar all is luv —
Dar'll be no sor-row dar"

The enemy did not molest us during the march
Tuesday. They had received severe punishment in the
early morning, and when the three divisions of the
cavalry corps had secured a position on the south bank
of the North Anna, Stuart concluded that it was a waste
of time — to say nothing of the danger — to attack
Sheridan in the vicinity of Beaver Dam. At any rate,
they left us to ourselves a good part of the day.

And what a picnic we enjoyed ! Foraging parties
were sent out in all directions, and they returned with
an abundance of corn for our horses. The corn was in

DOWN IN DIXIE.

the ear, and we shelled it for our chargers. Now and
then a trooper who had been out on the flank would
come in with a supply of eggs and butter, with a chicken
or two hanging on his saddle. All such provender was
classed as " forage," and was confiscated by the raiders.
It was delicate business, however, and I do not believe
that one out of twenty of Sheridan's troopers took any-
thing from the plantations along the route that was not
needed by the soldiers.

I would not be understood as saying that the boys
did not confiscate things that were not included in the
Government ration. Not at all. They relished extra
dishes — such as ham and eggs, butter for their flap-
jacks, and milk for their coffee, and wherever they found
supplies of this kind they foraged them. But the
Yankees showed a good deal of discrimination. When
they found a dyed-in-the-wool rebel who had a goodly
store of provisions, they confiscated what they needed,
but in cases where the supply was scant and the farm
was worked by the women and darkies, the boys ad-
monished one another to go slow, and only a small per-
centage of the crop was taken into camp.

A foraging party went out to a plantation about a
mile from the road on which our column was moving.
We saw the planter's house on a gentle rise of ground,
surrounded by magnificent shade trees. Everything
about the place indicated that the proprietor belonged

DOWN IN DIXIE.

to the F. F. V.'s. As we rode up the broad avenue
leading from the front gate to the residence, the ser-
geant in charge of the party said : " Boys, we've struck
it rich. There must be something good to eat here."

Seated in an armchair on the broad piazza was the
" lord of the manor," his eyes fairly snapping with the
hatred he could not conceal for the visitors. He was
full threescore years and ten. His long white hair
hung down upon his shoulders, and served to heighten
the color in his cheeks — and the beet red of his nose.
The planter arose at our approach, and demanded :
" To what am I indebted for this visit ? "
" Firing on the old flag at Fort Sumter, primarily,"
replied the sergeant, who seemed to enjoy the old
Virginian's hostile attitude.

" But, sir, I did not fire on Sumter! "
" No? Then you're a Union man, I take it ? "
" No, sir! I'm a Virginian, loyal to my State and
to the Confederacy. If I were able to bears arms I
should be in Lee's army to-day, fighting the vandal
horde that has invaded the sacred soil. Sir, we are
enemies ! "

" I am sorry to hear you say that. If you were a
Union man you could get pay for the forage we were
sent to secure. But as you are a sworn enemy of the
United States of America we will be obliged to con-
fiscate some of your corn and other supplies."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" I knew you were a band of robbers when you rode
through my gate. . The Northern mudsills make war on
private citizens and rob them by force of arms."

" It's the fortunes of war."

" You may call it war. We of the South call it the
unholy attempt to subjugate freemen — to destroy the
sovereignty of the States. But Abe Lincoln with all
his vandal horde will never conquer the South ! "

'• Well, stick to your State's rights, old man ; but in
the meantime we must have corn for our horses to
brace them up so's we can ride into Richmond and
hang old Jeff Davis " —

" Jeff Davis ! He's a saint, sir, when compared with
your negrodoving railsplitter in the White House ! "

"All right; I don't propose to quarrel with you.
Please show us where the corn can be found."

" Never, sir ! If you will plunder my plantation I
am powerless to defend myself; but I'll not help you
to anything."

"Then we'll prospect on our own hook. Perhaps
we can find what we want."

" I protest in the name of the sovereign rights of a
Virginian."

" Uncle Sam's a bigger man than 'ole Virginny,'"
replied the sergeant.

We had no difficulty in finding the corn crib and
the old Virginian's commissary department. A young

DOWN IN DIXIE.

darky " let the cat out of the bag " on his master, and
we soon had our horses loaded with forage. We had
struck it rich, indeed, for the plantation yielded " corn,
wine and oil" in abundance. There was food for man
and beast. A large number of hams, cured on the
plantation, sides and sides of bacon, and a goodly store
of " groceries " were among the " forage " we confis-
cated. But we did not strip the planter of all his pro-
visions ; enough was left to run him for several months.

" I'll give you a receipt for this forage," said the
sergeant, as we were about to leave.

" What would the receipt of a robber be good for ? "
exclaimed the old planter.

" You can present it to the Government when the
war's over and get pay for the forage."

" Do you want to add further insult to the injury
you have done me ? I scorn you and your Government.
You can never whip the South, sir, never, and under
no consideration would I disgrace myself by taking pay
for stores used by the enemies of the Confederacy.
Leave my plantation. Go back to your general and
tell him that my prayer is that he and his followers will
get their just deserts — that they will all be hanged."

The enraged planter walked back and forth on the
piazza, and shot defiant glances at us as we rode away
with our plunder. I have no doubt that he would have
" bushwhacked " us if there had been an opportunity.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

A couple of miles south of the big plantation we
came to a farmhouse on a cross road. We stopped at
the well to fill our canteens, and one of the boys ex-
plored the premises to see what he could find. He
came back with the report that the house was occupied
by a widow with a large family of children.

" There don't seem to be anything to eat on this
farm," the trooper remarked.

" I'll see about it," said the sergeant, as he rode up
to the porch. " Halloo, inside there ! "

A middle-aged woman came out into the entry and
advanced timidly toward the Yankee.

" We're out after forage," the sergeant said. " Have
you any corn around here ? "

" We have nothing but the crap that's gro'in'. We
had some provisions until a few clays ago a lot of sol-
diers came along and took all our corn and bacon.
We've got a mighty little meal and a trifle of bacon
left."

" I didn't know that any of our men had been
through here lately."

" They were not Yankees ; they were our own sol-
diers. They said they were hungry, and when they
begun to eat it seemed like they would never quit.
They fairly ate us most out of house and home. It's
mighty sorry times with us. I don't know what we'll
do to get alono- till harvest."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Where's your husband ? "

" Done killed in the wah."

" Have you no sons ? "

" Yes, sir ; two fighting under General Lee.

" And you're short of provisions? "

" Very short indeed."

" Boys, leave a couple of hams, a bag of meal and
some bacon with this lady."

The boys gladly complied with the instructions, and
they also went down in their haversacks and contributed
quite a number of rations of coffee and sugar.

" Oh ! that's real coffee," exclaimed the oldest of
the children, a girl of about twelve years.

" I expected you would take what little we had to
eat," said the head of the family, as the tears rolled
down her face. " I never thought the Yankees would
be so kind to the widow of a Confederate. The Rich-
mond papers said if you all came this way you would
destroy everything ; they said heaps of black things
about you."

" Do you all have hams on your saddles and sacks of
corn to carry along all the time ? " ventured the young
miss who had listened to all that had been said.

" No, no; we confiscated these back at the big plan-
tation yonder."

"Where 'bouts?" inquired the widow.

"At that fine house a couple of miles north."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Was there an old gentleman there ? "

" Yes ; he gave us his benediction when we left, by
expressing the wish that we would all come to the
gallows."

" And these hams and other things came from his
plantation ? "

" Yes."

"I declare, 'vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.'
Yesterday I called there and asked the colonel — they
all call him colonel — -to help me along by letting me
have a little meal and bacon. I promised to pay him
back when we gather our crap, by and by."

" He assisted you, of course ? "

" No, indeed. He said he could not afford to dis-
tribute his provisions among other people who had no
claims on him. He refused to let me have a pound of
meat, or a quart of meal."

" He knows your husband was killed fighting for
the Confederacy — and that you have two sons in
Lee's arm)" ? "

" To be sure he does ; he urged them to go into the
army, to hurl back the invaders ; but he now says I
must look to the Government at Richmond for help.
I'm thankful for what you all have done for us. It's a
right smart help. But I believe the colonel would come
down here and take the provisions away from us, if he
knew you all had left them here."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Let's go back and take what's left at his plantation
and burn him out," exclaimed one of the troopers.

" No ; not this time," said the sergeant. " But we
shall probably come this way again, and then we can pay
our compliments to the old skinflint."

" Do you think the wah's coming to an end soon ? "
the woman asked as we were about to move forward.

" I hope so," replied the sergeant. " I think this
campaign will wind it up."

" Who's going to whip ? "

" We are."

" You'll be obliged to do some powerful hard fight-
ing, I reckon, for our side won't give up so long's there's
anything to eat in the Confederacy. But if we're to be
overcome, sure enough, I hope it will be soon — before
my sons are killed. Our boys'll die game, sure's you're
born."

" I hope your sons will be spared."

" I trust they will. They believe they are fighting
for a just cause. They are Virginians, and they have
great faith in Gen. Lee. They will follow him to the
end. But it's a cruel wah. Somebody must be wrong ;
both sides cannot be right. I don't understand it thor-
oughly, but I feel that somebody has made a terrible
mistake."

" Ma, the Yankees hasn't got horns, has they, ma? "
exclaimed one of the children, a girl about five years old,

DOWN IN DIXIE.

and who was gnawing at a hard-tack one of the troopers
had given her.

" No, my darling."

And the Confederate soldiers widow joined in the
laugh that followed this juvenile outbreak. Good-bys
were said, and the foraging party hastened to rejoin
the column.

CHAPTER X.

Butler s Advance on the South Side — How the Massachusetts
Major-General Escaped Hanging — Returning to Grant's
Army — The Fight at Howes 's Shop — A Dying Confeder-
ate's Last Request — Holding Cold Harbor at all Hazards —
Filling the Canteens — Running into the Enemy.

HERIDAN'S weary troopers appreciated
the three-days' rest given them at Haxall's
Landing. An opportunity was afforded
the recruits who had never been on a
raid before to doctor their saddle boils,
and rub horse liniment on the contusions
they had sustained while being banged around on the
march from the Wilderness to the James.

While we were recuperating in camp, the army of
the James was operating against Richmond. A courier
came in from Gen. Kautz's cavalry, then smashing-
things out beyond Petersburg, bringing encouraging
news. Butler had sailed up the river with a fleet of
mixed vessels — that may not be a strictly nautical

DOWN IN DIXIE.

phrase, but it expresses the character of the flotilla.
Nearly every class of vessel, from the latest improved
ironclad down to the slow-going canal boat, ascended
the James to Bermuda Hundred, from which base
"Butler moved his troops in his attack on the rebel
fortifications at Drewry's Bluff.

We did not know, at the time, what Butler was
trying to accomplish, except the general statement that
Grant had ordered him to co-operate with the Army of
the Potomac in the advance on Richmond. The intri-
cate details of the plan were altogether too perplexing
for worn-out troopers to puzzle their brains with. An
outline of what had taken place on the south bank of
the river was given out, and as I remember it, the day
that we started on our return to Grant's army, it was
generally understood that Butler had Been driven back
from Drewry's Bluff into his breastworks at Bermuda
Hundred, although we did not hear that he had been
" bottled up " till several weeks later.

I did not know at that time that Butler had been
declared an outlaw by Jeff Davis, but I suppose the
commanding general of the army of the James was
aware of the fact. Whether the same had any influence
on Butler's retreat down the river when worsted by
Beauregard, I am not prepared to assert. It would be
a serious breach of discipline for one of the few surviv-
ing privates of the great rebellion to intimate that the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Bay State's favorite major-general turned his back on
Richmond, and sought the security of breastworks,
with gunboat supports, to escape falling into the
hands of the Confederates. And yet I have since dis-
covered that had Butler been captured, he would
have been hanged by the neck until he was dead,
dead, dead.

Butler, as is well known, had given the Confederacy
no end of trouble at New Orleans, when in command
down there. He had caused the rebels to understand
that the assassination of Union soldiers must be atoned
for by the punishment of the assassins.

In " The Rise and Fall of the Confederate Govern-
ment," by Jeff Davis, an account is published of what
the rebel president declared to have been the " murder "
of William B. Mumford, a " non-combative " citizen of
New Orleans, by Butler's order. Gen. Lee had written
to Gen. Halleck about it, as instructed by Davis, and
Halleck refused to receive the letters, because, as he ex-
pressed it, they were of an insulting character. Davis
continues :

" It appeared that the silence of the Government of the United States, and its
maintenance of Butler in high office under its authority, afforded evidence too
conclusive that it sanctioned his conduct, and was determined that he should
remain unpunished for these crimes. I therefore pronounced and declared the
said Butler a felon, deserving capital punishment, and ordered that he be no longer
considered and treated as a public enemy of the Confederate States, but as an
outlaw and common enemy of mankind ; and that, in the event of his capture, the
officer in command should cause him to be immediately executed by hanging."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

According to Gen. G. T. Beauregard, who com-
manded the rebels at Drewry's Bluff, Gen. Butler's sal-
vation from summary execution was due to the failure
of the Confederate Gen. Whiting, to carry out the
instructions given him by Beauregard, for the latter,
in an article in " Battles and Leaders of the Civil
War," says :

" Nothing would have prevented Whiting from cap-
turing the entire force of Gen. Butler, had he followed
my instructions. . . We could and should have
captured Butler's entire army."

I do not know but Beauregard's expectations included
the capture of Sheridan's cavalry at Haxall's, and,
possibly, Grant's army, too ; but the modest Confederate
is silent on this point.

I beg pardon for going outside the lines a little in
speaking of Butler's operations. Whatever may have
been that general's failings — if he had any failings —
as a military commander, one thing the survivors of
Sheridan's cavalry corps will never forget : he fed them
when they were hungry, and filled their haversacks for
the march to rejoin the Army of the Potomac.

We started on the return trip Tuesday evening,
May 17. I would have volunteered to be transferred
to the navy, had there been a chance to do so. My
saddle boils were all ripe, and a few hours' riding
brought matters to a crisis. But I became hardened to

DOWN IN DIXIE.

it later on, and never again suffered affliction of that
character.

Scouting parties were pushed to the front to feel the
way, the exact location of Grant's army being unknown
to us. Our horses had recovered from the effects of the
fatiguing march, and the troopers were in good spirits.
The " new hands " began to feel confidence in them-
selves, and as they had not shown the white feather
thus far, the old veterans were considerate enough to
admit that the four new companies had the " makings of
a good battalion."

We crossed the Chickahominy at Jones's Bridge,
and camped in the vicinity of Baltimore crossroads
Thursday night. From this place our division and
Wilson's were sent to explore the roads around Cold
Harbor. Our movements were not opposed by the
Confederates, and we rested our horses on what proved
to be, a few days later, one of the bloodiest battlefields
of the campaign.

At the old tavern at Cold Harbor we filled our
canteens with water, the tavern being dry so far as
liquor was concerned. We were only twelve miles
from Richmond, yet the rebels were willing to give us
full swing so long as we would keep away from their
capital.

While the second and third divisions were scouting
around Cold Harbor, Custer took his brigade to Hanover,

DOWN IN DIXIE.

destroyed Confederate stores at that station, and burned
several bridges.

In the meantime, Merritt's men had repaired the
railroad bridge over the Pamunkey, and upon our
return from Cold Harbor, everything was in readiness
for continuing the march to rejoin the Army of the
Potomac. Custer's men reported that Lee's army
was intrenched along the North Anna, and that
meant that Grant's troops were on the opposite side,
facing Lee.

Tuesday, May 24, just a week from the day we left
the James, we joined the Army of the Potomac near
Chesterfield. We had been absent sixteen days. Grant
and Meade highly commended Little Phil upon the
success of his daring raid, and the doughboys admitted
that the cavalry, with Sheridan in command, was able
to take care of itself, and could make a march in the
enemy's country without a column of infantry to keep
off the rebels. The cavalry corps lost six hundred and
twenty-five men and half as many horses on the raid.

The first and second divisions of Sheridan's cavlary
corps led the advance from the line of the North Anna,
when the Army of the Potomac executed another left-
flank movement, crossing to the south bank of the river
the day after our return from the raid around Richmond.
The third division, commanded by Wilson, was detached
from the corps, and sent to look after the right flank of

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Grant's army. Sheridan accompanied the advance, and
he was instructed to put out and feel the enemy.

Gregg's division engaged in a lively brush with the
rebels at a place called Hawes's Shop, May 27. The
enemy had us at a great disadvantage, being posted
behind breastworks. An infantry brigade with long
toms kept the minie balls pinging around our ears,
while the sharp reports of carbines, the cheers of our
boys as they pushed forward, the rebel yell and the
booming of field pieces gave warning to the troops in
our rear that the cavalry was at it again.

We ran into the rebels rather unexpectedly, although
we knew that they were close at hand. Our advance
guard was fired on as the detachment approached a belt
of timber skirting the road. In a few minutes our whole
division was under fire, and the Johnnies stubbornly
contested every inch of ground which they occupied.

While we were closing in on the rebel intrench-
ments, a young trooper on my right asked me if I had
any water. I reached him my canteen. Just as he
raised it to his lips a bullet from a rebel musket struck
it, knocking it out of the trooper's hand.

" That's blasted mean ! " he exclaimed.

" Pick up the canteen, maybe the water hasn't all
run out," I shouted.

" It's all gone," he said. The ball had passed through,
tearing; a big hole in the tin.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Take a drink from my canteen," said another
trooper, who had witnessed the incident.

" Thank you." And holding the canteen up above
His head, the thirsty soldier shouted : " Now, you miser-
able gray backs, shoot away; spoil this canteen, will
you ? "

Whiz! thug ! And the second canteen was struck
by a musket-ball and ruined.

" I guess I'm not as thirsty as I thought I was,"
remarked the young cavalryman, as he declined the offer
of another canteen.

A sergeant of a Pennsylvania regiment in the second
brigade, was severely wounded in the leg. Two com-
rades attempted to assist him back behind a tree to the
left of the road. The wounded non-commissioned
officer was carried on a piece of board, which the
troopers held between them, and supported himself by
holding on to their shoulders.

Just as they were passing our position in line, a
shell struck the board, and stove it into splinters. The
sergeant was thrown on one side of the road, and his
two comrades on the other. I thought they were dead,
but in a few seconds the sergeant raised up on his
elbow and called out :

" Jackson, are you killed ? "

" No, sir; but I'm unconscious."

" Where's Corbet ? "

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Here, sir ; but I'm unconscious, too. There's no
breath left in me body."

Then the two troopers lifted their heads and looked
cautiously around. They had escaped serious injury,
but the sergeant's other leg was badly shattered. They
picked him up and bore him to the rear.

Gen. Gregg fought his division well, and the sur-
vivors of the engagement at Hawes's Shop will bear
testimony that the rebels held their ground bravely.

We pressed forward to the breastworks, but were
unable to carry the line. The Confederates poured
volley after volley into our ranks. Still the troopers,
with averted faces, worked their way to the front, secur-
ing a position and holding it within pistol range of the
enemy. Boys in blue and boys in butternut went clown.

The regiment on our right made a sudden dash,
and swept back the Confederate line. But our boys
were unable to hold the advance position. The Johnnies
fired upon them from both flanks, and back they came,
slowly and with their faces to the foe, loading and firing
as they retreated. They brought in a score or more of
prisoners.

" Halloo, Reb ! What are you fellows blocking our
road for ? " shouted a blue-clad trooper to a Confederate
sergeant, as the prisoners were hustled to the rear.

" Who's a-blocking the road, Yank ? I'm done.
You all gobbled me in a squar fight."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Where do you hail from ? "

" Ole South Carliney, and if you'll give me my
parole, I'll go down thar and stay till the wah's over."

We were having a lively exchange of leaden compli-
ments, when the boys in charge of our horses — we were
fighting on foot — began to cheer, and we knew that
help was at hand. In a few minutes we saw Gen.
Custer, at the head of his Michigan brigade, coming up
the road.

Sheridan had sent Custer to Gregg's assistance at
the request of the latter, who had informed Sheridan
that he could drive the rebels from their breastworks
with the help of a few more men. Of the closing up
of the battle Gen. Gregg says : " Soon Custer reported
with his brigade. This he dismounted and formed on
a road leading to the front and through the center of
my line. In column of platoons, with band plavino-,
he advanced. As arranged, when the head of his
column reached my line, all went forward with a tre-
mendous yell, and the contest was of short duration.
We went right over the rebels, who resisted with
courage and desperation unsurpassed. Our success
cost the Second Division two hundred and fifty-six men
and officers, killed and wounded. This fight has always
been regarded by the Second Division as one of its
severest."

The Confederates left us in possession of the field

DOWN IN DIXIE.

and the dead and wounded. Inside the earthworks, a
little to the left of the road, a young rebel lay dying.
A bullet had struck him in the breast, and his life's
blood was flowing from the wound and from his mouth.
He was not more than seventeen years old. The dead
and dying were thick around the boy, showing that he
had fallen where the fight was the hottest.

" I can't do anything for you, my son," said a gray-
haired Federal surgeon, who had examined his wound.

"Am I dying, Doctor? "

" Yes, my son ; the wound is fatal."

" Can my head be raised ? "

" Certainly. Here, boys ! bring an overcoat or a
blanket."

The old doctor's voice was tremulous and his eyes
were moist with tears. A dozen blue overcoats were
offered, but only one was needed. This the surgeon
folded so as to make a pillow for the wounded Con-
federate. Tenderly the doctor raised the boy's head
and placed it on the overcoat. As he did so the blood
flowed afresh from the wound in the breast.

" Doctor — picture — mother — pocket — let me
see it."

" Yes, my son."

The surgeon took from the boy's butternut jacket a
picture of a sweet-faced woman, and held it before the
dying soldier's eyes.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Closer, Doctor."

The boy had attempted to take the picture in his
hand, but his strength was gone — he could not use his
arms. The doctor held the picture against the lips of
the youth. It was stained with blood when taken away,
but there was a smile on the face of the boy.

" Doctor," he said faintly, " tell mother I died like
a soldier — will you write to her? "

" Yes."

The old doctor's tears were flowing freely now.
And so were the tears of fifteen or twenty Union
troopers who had gathered around the dying boy.

"Yes, I'll write — what's the address, my son? "

" Mother's name is " —

The voice sank to a whisper, and the Federal
surgeon placed his ear close to the lad's mouth.

" Is what? "

" Mother — O, Doctor ! — meet — heaven — good-by ! "

He was dead.

" He was so much like my boy who was killed at
Antietam," said the surgeon, as he folded the dead
Confederate's hands over the mother's picture.

Search was made for a letter or writing that would
identify the boy or reveal his mother's address. Only
one letter was found in his pocket. There was no
envelope ; no postmark. It began, " My darling soldier
boy." and breathed the mother's anxiety for the welfare

DOWN IN DIXIE.

of her son, and the prayer that he would be spared to
return and make glad that mother's heart. • And the
signature — " Your fond and affectionate mother."
Nothing more. There was no time for ceremony ;
barely time to bury the dead. The boy's body was
wrapped in a U. S. blanket and put in a trench hastily
dug and hastily filled.

The advance on Cold Harbor was led by the First
and Second Divisions of the cavalry corps under Sheri-
dan. The Third Division under Wilson had been sent
out on the right flank to tear up the Virginia Central
railroad. That duty was performed, and at the same
time Wilson's division engaged the Georgia cavalry
under Gen. P. B. M. Young, at Hanover Court House.
The Confederates were driven out. In the meantime
we were having our hands full at Cold Harbor, toward
which place we marched all night, after the fight at
Hawes's Shop. Sheridan had pushed forward Torbert's
division, and a severe fight was had with the enemy, re-
sulting in the occupancy of Cold Harbor and the
important cross-roads by the First Division. While
Torbert's men were fighting at Cold Harbor, our
division guarded the road near Old Church. An order
came from Sheridan for Gregg to send re-enforcements,
to Torbert, and Davies's brigade was ordered to the
front. We arrived too late to help the First Division
drive out the rebels, but we were in time to assist in

DOWN IN DIXIE.

holding Cold Harbor the next day till the infantry came
to our relief.

Sheridan had concluded that he could not hold Cold
Harbor without infantry support, and the doughboys
were eight or ten miles away. Orders were given to
fall back to Old Church during the night of May 31.
The withdrawal was made in good order, and we were
congratulating ourselves on escaping from the trap the
rebel infantry was preparing to spring upon us at day-
break, when we received orders to face about and hold
Cold Harbor " at all hazards." Back we went, and
preparations were made for resisting the attack of the
enemy, which we felt sure would be made at daylight.
If the rebels had discovered that we had moved out of
the breastworks in their front, and had advanced and
occupied the line, they could have held Cold Harbor
against our four brigades, as the Confederate cavalry
was supported by Hoke's and Kershaw's infantry.

Our position at Cold Harbor was anything but
satisfactory, as we " turned doughboys " and began to
dig for our lives, the necessity of entrenching our line
being well understood, as we were to fight on foot.
Sheridan says in his Memoirs, speaking of the return
to Cold Harbor : " We now found that the temporary
breastworks of rails and logs which the Confederates
had built were of incalculable benefit to us in furnishing
material with which to establish a line of defense, they

DOWN IN DIXIE.

being made available by simply reversing them at some
points, or at others wholly reconstructing them to suit
the circumstances of the ground. The troops, without
reserves, were then placed behind our cover, dismounted,
boxes of ammunition distributed along the line, and the
order passed along that the place must be held. All
this was done in the darkness, and while we were work-
ing away at our cover, the enemy could be distinctly
heard from our skirmish line giving commands and
making preparations to attack."

Thursday morning, June i, the rebels attacked
Sheridan at Cold Harbor. The troopers were not
directed to withhold their fire till they could " see the
whites of the eyes " of the foe, but they permitted the
Johnnies to come within short range before opening
on them. The Confederate infantry charged the breast-
works, the rebel yell being heard above the terrible din
of battle. Sheridan's men demonstrated to their com-
mander and to the world that they could fight afoot or
on horseback. The rebels did not get near enough to
stick any of our boys with their bayonets, which had
been fixed for that sort of butchery. Before thev came
within bayonet distance they were so badly demoralized
by the raking fire of the Federal cavalrymen armed
with breach-loading carbines, that they took to their
heels and skedaddled back to the woods from which
they had started on their charge. Their flight was

DOWN IN DIXIE.

accelerated by the terrible fire poured into their ranks
by our flying artillery, which had opened on the rebels
as they came forward to the attack.

Again the Johnnies came, after they had recovered
somewhat from their first repulse. But the Yankees
gave the enemy another red-hot reception, and the
rebels were forced to take to the woods. Before the
second charge our regiment was mounted and sent out
on the flank to support a battery that had been ordered
to shell the Confederates out of a piece of woods.

It was a very trying situation. The artillerymen
ran their guns out to the skirmish line, unlimbered and
opened on the woods. The rebels replied with artillery
and infantry, and the enemy's gunners got our range
in a short time. The shells were bursting all around
and over us for fifteen or twenty minutes. We sat on
our horses ready to charge the rebels should they dash
out of the woods and attempt to capture our artillery.
It was far more trying on the nerves to sit bolt upright
in the saddle as a target for rebel cannoneers and in-
fantry, than it would have been to charge the enemy's
lines and engage in hand-to-hand conflict.

A solid shot cut Corporal Goddard's haversack from
his saddle without injuring the corporal or his horse.
Corporal Jack Hazelet was on the left of the squadron.
The corporal was given to stammering, and so was the
captain and brevet major in command of the next

DOWN IN DIXIE.

squadron on our left. As a shell went shrieking through
the air just over our heads, the boys naturally began to
dodge. Then the captain shouted:

" Wha-wha-what you, you, you dod-dod-dod-dodging
at, Cor-cor-corporal ? "

" You-you're dod-dod-dodging, Cor-cor-corporal ! "

A shell burst in front of the captain, and he was
seen to duck his head as a piece of the shell went
whizzing close to his ear.

" Wha-wha-what you, you, you dod-dod-dodging at,
Ma-ma-major? "

" Who-who-who's a dod-dod-dod-dodging, Cor-cor-
corporal ? "

" You -you-you're dod-dod-dod-dodging. Ma-ma-
major ! "

Of course everybody dodged — it was natural that
they should under such circumstances.

I was detailed with another trooper to go down in a
ravine to the right of our position, to fill the canteens
of the company. I jumped at the chance, as I thought
it would take me out of the direct range of the rebel
artillery for a little while. We kept well to the rear of
the regiment till we reached a row of trees and under-
brush skirting the ravine. Then we faced to the front
and followed a fence about half a mile. We found

DOWN IN DIXIE.

water and dismounted to fill our canteens. Pieces of
shell began to drop all around us and into the water.
We sprang up to ascertain the cause of this new de-
parture, and discovered that the rebel artillery was
shelling the woods. It was subsequently learned from
a rebel prisoner that the Johnnies thought a column of
Federal infantry was advancing upon their position
under cover of the trees.

" We can't stay here," exclaimed my companion.

" I should say not."

" Let's go back to the company."

" All right ; go ahead."

We sprang into our saddles and hastened to get out
of the woods.

As we came into the open field near where we had
left our company, we saw a column of infantry moving
into position. The doughboys were rushing forward
at a dog trot, with their long toms at right shoulder.
It was a division of the Sixth corps, and was com-
manded, I think, by General David A. Russell, who was
wounded that day or the next while gallantly leading
his division against the enemy's lines. He was subse-
quently killed at the battle of Opequan, while serving
under Sheridan in the valley. The cavalrymen were
rejoiced at the arrival of the infantry, and at once
mounted and pushed out toward the Chickahominy to
cover the left flank of Grant's army.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Our regiment and the battery had been withdrawn
as soon as the infantry had arrived, and had moved to
the left with the rest of Daviess brigade. When the
two water-carriers, who had been shelled out of the
woods, reached the position where we had left our
company, the regiment was nowhere to be seen.

" Which way did the cavalry go ? " I asked an
infantry colonel.

" They pushed on to the front," he replied.

" Into the woods ? "

" Yes."

We put spurs to our horses and dashed down the
road in that direction.

We reached the edge of the woods and pushed on,
jumping our horses over temporary rifle pits and rail
barricades which had been occupied by the Confeder-
ates, and from which they had been ousted by the fire
of our battery. We saw dead rebels in the rifle pits
and in the road. We galloped on, and as we were
beginning to wonder what had become of our regiment,
we came against a column of rebel infantry marching
toward the rifle pits we had passed a few minutes before.

" Whew ! "

" Where's our cavalry ? " I stammered, scarcely
knowing what I was doing.

" What cavalry ? " asked a rebel sergeant, who was
in charge of the advance sruard of the column.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Hampton's ? "

" Off to the right."

" We must get there at once — important dis-
patches."

Our advent was so sudden that the meeting was as
much of a surprise to the rebels as it was to us, and as
it was not uncommon for rebel cavalrymen to "don blue
jackets when they could get them by stripping prisoners,
the Confederates did not seem to grasp the situation
till we had turned about and were galloping back over
the road toward the Federal lines.

" Halt!"

" Halt, you infernal Yankees ! "

The order was backed up by a volley from the rebel
advance guard. The bullets whistled about our ears,
but we bent low in our saddles and never looked behind
us until we had placed the Sixth corps between us and
the Confederates. Then we drew rein and took an
inventory. Several canteens were missing, but other-
wise we were " all present or accounted for," and we
rode out to the left and rejoined our company.

CHAPTER XI.

Scut to the Hospital — The Convalescent ' s Vision — The Name
on the Head-board — Killed July 28, 1864 — How Taylor
Died — Shot with his Harness On.

HAD stood the fatigues of the campaign
thus far without once answering sick
call, but in the latter part of July I
began to feel "de misery in de bowels,"
as the contrabands described the disease
that attacked the soldiers when in camp,
and sent so many of them to the cemeteries. I fought
against it as long as I could, but I was finally compelled
to give in, and allow the first sergeant to put my name
on the sick book. I was very weak, and Taylor assisted
me over to the surgeon's tent. The doctor marked me
" sick in quarters " the first da)', and I swallowed medi-
cine every two hours all night. The next morning I
was unable to get out of the dog tent Taylor had
arranged for me.

Along in the middle of the day I fell asleep. Taylor

DOWN IN DIXIE.

had insisted that I should " take a nap between drinks,"
as he called it.

" I'll wake you up in time for your toddy," he said.

I was awakened by the sounding of " boots and
saddles " all through the camps.

"What's up?" I asked Taylor.

" Got to move right away ; guess the Johnnies
have broke in on us somewhere. But I'll ask the major
to let me stay and take care of you."

And my faithful nurse ran over to the commanding
officer's tent and made the request.

" We ran away and enlisted together, Major, and the
doctor says the chances are against him unless he's
tended with great care. I don't want to shirk duty, but
I'd like to stay and see my towny through."

" I'll speak to the doctor about it," replied the officer.
" Tell the doctor to come here."

When the surgeon appeared, he stated that the sick
were to be sent to the hospital, and so it was decided
that Taylor could not be spared to remain with me, as
the movement was to be a reconnaissance in force on
the north bank of the James, and every man would be
needed. Taylor had to hustle to pack his traps and
saddle up. After he had " buckled on his harness," as
he called it, he came back to me, and assisted the
hospital steward and the driver in lifting me into an
ambulance. I had just strength enough to raise my

DOWN IN DIXIE.

head and thank my comrade, who stood with a canteen
of fresh water he had brought for me, beside a trooper
who had been wounded in the arm while on picket, and
who was to go with me in the ambulance.

" Thank you, Giles. Write and tell my folks about
me the first chance you get."

" I'm sorry to leave you, but I'll come over to City
Point and see you in a few days. Keep up your cour-
age ; you'll pull through all right. But the company's
leading out. I must go. Good-by."

" Good-by, Giles." .

I did not have strength enough to sit up in the
ambulance and see the boys as they rode by, but Taylor
had told them I was in the vehicle, and I could hear
them say, " Good-by, Allen," as they passed along.

Then I was " all shook up " as the ambulance driver
cracked his whip and shouted to his mules to " git out
o' hyar ! " I do not remember how long we were on
the road. I did not know then, for I was unconscious
part of the time. Now and then we struck a long
stretch of corduroy road. Oh ! how it tortured me.
Only old soldiers who " have been there " have any idea
of the agony experienced in a ride over a corduroy road
in an ambulance, particularly when the passenger is so
weak that he cannot help himself at all.

"Drive around to the third tent there!"

" Yes, sir."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" How many men have you ? "

" One wounded, and one sick or dead boy, I don't
know which. He's been fainting like, all the afternoon."
The above is what I heard upon regaining conscious-
ness. We had arrived at the cavalry corps hospital on
the bank of the Appomattox, just above City Point. I
was taken from the ambulance and placed on a cot in
one of the tents. Then I became unconscious again,
but restoratives were given me, and I was able, when
the attendants came around with supper, to swallow one
spoonful of tea, after which I was given an anodyne
which put me to sleep.

The cavalry corps hospital was separate from the
general hospital of the Army of the Potomac at City
Point, and was used exclusively for sick and wounded
troopers. The best possible care was taken of the
patients, and delicacies in the shape of corn starch,
farina, beef tea, canned fruit, jellies and other articles
not included in the regular rations were supplied. It
was several days after my arrival before I was con-
sidered to have one chance in twenty of pulling through,
but I had a strong constitution, and nature and the
surgeon's prescriptions won after a hard struggle.

What a luxurv I found the cot with its mattress,
clean sheets and a pillow — just think of it!

After I had passed the critical point, hovering
between life and death for several days, and began to

DOWN IN DIXIE.

mend, I took as deep an interest in my surroundings as
was possible under the circumstances. Part of the time
I was in a sort of semi-unconscious state, the quinine
and other drugs causing my brain to be fired up so that
the incidents from the campaign of the Wilderness to the
crossing of the James were all jumbled together with
recollections of home and the events of my boyhood.

My cot was near the open fly of the tent, and one
day, early in August, I was bolstered up so that I could
get a view of the grounds sloping away toward the
Appomattox. The tents were on a little knoll, and the
ground fell away toward the river for a short distance,
and then there was quite a stretch of open land sloping
upward to a ridge, on the other side of which was the
Appomattox.

The intervening space, beginning at the foot of the
slope and extending nearly to the rising ground toward
the river, had been converted into a cemetery. Here
were buried the troopers of Sheridan's command, whose
bodies had been brought from the battlefields, and also
those who had died in hospital. I soon tired of looking
at the rows of head-boards, and asked to be laid back
on my cot. Just as the attendant was removing the
bolster which had supported me in a sitting posture, I
fancied I saw the name " Taylor " on one of the slabs
out there in the field.

As the nurse laid me back on my cot I was so

DOWN IN DIXIE.

fatigued that I could not collect my thoughts for some
time. Then I began to think about the regiment.
Why had not Taylor been to the hospital to see me ?
Was the cavalry on the north bank of the James ? Had
there been another raid ? Was Giles sick ? I went to
sleep, and my dreams were of the kind that causes one
to wake with his mind more confused than when he
goes to sleep. The real and the unreal were so linked
together that it was difficult to separate them.

The next day I was permitted to sit up in bed again.
Then I began to search for that head-board that had
made such an impression on me the day before.

After a time I located the one which had " Taylor "
on it. But I was so weak that my eyes gave out before
I could make out the rest of the inscription.

" Taylor ? " said I to myself, " Taylor? Why, there
are hundreds of Taylors in the army. This Taylor
could be nothing to me.

" But where is my Taylor? Why hasn't he been to
see me? Of course if anything had happened to Giles
the boys would have sent me word."

The ward master came along, and as he seemed to
be a good-natured fellow, I said to him:

" Will you do me a favor ? "

" Certainly, my boy, if I can. What is it? "

" Tell me what the inscription is on that head-board
out there — the one with ' Taylor ' on it ? "

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Taylor is all I can make out from here, as the
board is a little obliqued from this point ; but if it'll
be any accommodation to you, I'll go down there and
see what it is."

" I would be so thankful if you would."

The ward master went down the slope and to the
grave in which I had come to be so deeply interested.
I was confident, or thought I was, that nothing could
have happened to Giles, but at the same time I could not
rest until I found out the full name of the trooper who
slumbered in that particular grave. In a few minutes
the ward master returned.

" It's Taylor," he said.

"Yes ; but what's the other name ? "

" Giles Taylor."

" What regiment ? "

" First Massachusetts cavalry."

" What company ? "

" Company I."

" What else ? "

"Killed, July 28, 1864."

" Where ? "

" Near Malvern Hill."

" Lay me down, please."

" All right, my boy ; did you know the trooper
buried out there ? "

" Yes ; we ran away together to enlist. He nursed

DOWN IN DIXIE.

me in camp when I was stricken, and helped put me in
the ambulance when I was sent to the hospital ; he was
my bunkey, and the best friend I had in the company."
" It's too bad ; but war is a terrible thing."
The day that I started for the hospital Sheridan
crossed to the north bank of the James, to support a
movement intended to cause Lee to withdraw the bulk
of his army from the works in front of Petersburg.
There was some lively fighting out near Malvern Hill,
and during one of the attacks of the enemy Taylor was
shot. The bullet entered his groin, severing the main
arteries.

Daniel Booth, a bugler who was near Taylor when
the latter was struck, assisted in getting the wounded
man back out of range. Booth told me that Giles did
not flinch — he was in the front rank when he was shot.
He did not fall from his horse, but fired one or two
shots after he was struck. Then he said to Booth :

" I'm hit — the blood's running into my boot; guess
I'm hurt bad."

Booth hastened to Taylor's assistance. The latter
was growing weak from loss of blood. Just then Gen.
Davies's headquarters ambulance came along, and the
oeneral who was near at hand and had seen Booth and
another soldier supporting Taylor in the saddle, directed
them to put him in the ambulance.

"No; don't let them put me in the ambulance —

DOWN IN DIXIE.

it'll kill me if they lay me down. Let me stay in the
saddle, boys."

Booth remained with Taylor till they reached the
landing where the wounded men were being loaded on
boats to be taken to City Point. A surgeon examined
Taylor's wound.

" It's fatal," the doctor whispered to Booth. " But
he can't stay here ; help him on board the boat."

The boy bugler and others raised the dying trooper
and bore him tenderly on board the steamer. They
laid him down on a blanket among other wounded
soldiers. Then the whistle blew, and the command was
given, "All ashore that's going! " Taylor was sinking
fast, but he pressed Booth's hand and said :

" Good-by, Booth; I'm dying. Send word to my
folks at home — tell them I faced the music, and was
shot with my harness on. Remember me to the boys."

" Good-by, Giles."

Booth jumped ashore as the gang plank was being
pulled on board, and hastened back to the regiment.
Poor Taylor was a corpse before the boat reached
City Point. His body was taken to the cavalry corps
hospital, and buried in the grave the head-board of
which attracted my attention.

CHAPTER XII.

Doleful Tales by Deserters from Lee's Army — President Lin-
coln's Visit to the Front — A Memorable Meeting — The Fort
Stcadman Assault — Lincoln on Horseback — At the Head of
the Column — Wanted to Get Off and Pull Down his Pants.

ESERTERS from the Confederate army
at Petersburg came into the Federal
lines with doleful tales of hunger and
hardships. The " bull pen " near Meade's
headquarters was filled with Johnnies
who had run away from Lee's army.
They had seen the handwriting on the wall, and were
convinced that they had been fighting for a lost cause ;
the hopelessness of the struggle had struck home to their
hearts — and stomachs. In March, 1865, before Grant
beo-an the movement on the left of Petersburg, a number
of rebels came through the lines and surrendered.

" We can't stand another campaign," said a rebel
deserter at the bull pen. " We can't march and fight
on quarter rations of meal and only a smell of meat."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" Do you think the Confederacy is gone up ? "

" Shuah's yo born, but Bobby Lee's game. He'll
fight till the last ounce of powder is used up."

" What's the use ? "

" No use, except to show his fidelity to the cause."

" He has shown that already."

" So he has, and he's in a mighty bad way."

In the latter part of March the signs began to indi-
cate that a general break-up was at hand. Dispatch
bearers were seen on all sides, dashing away with
messages from army headquarters to corps commanders
in the lines in front of Petersburg. Horses were being
shod, army wagons overhauled — the thousand and one
things betokening a move were noticed in the camps.

At Meade's headquarters it was understood that
Grant intended to begin hammering again on or about
the first of April, and the boys were satisfied that there
would be no April fool business about it.

President Lincoln visited Grant's headquarters, and
was present when the Federal army moved " on to
Richmond " for the last time. The President arrived
about March 22, and he did not return to Washington
till after the fall of Richmond, which city he entered
the day after Jeff Davis fled. Lincoln was at City
Point when Sheridan arrived after he had whipped
Early out of the Valley. And here, too, came Sherman,
the hero of the March to the Sea.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Tuesday, March 28, Gen. Meade rode down to the
point and conferred with the general-in-chief. It was
the day before that fixed for the movement. An in-
formal council was held between Lincoln, Grant, Sheri-
dan, Sherman and Meade. It was the first and last
time that these five great men were ever together. In
Richardson's Personal History of Grant, the following
pen-picture of the group is given :

" Lincoln, tall, round-shouldered, loose-jointed, large-
featured, deep-eyed, with a smile upon his face, is dressed
in black, and wears a fashionable silk hat. Grant is at
Lincoln's right, shorter, stouter, more compacts wears a
military hat with a stiff broad brim, has his hands in
his pantaloons pockets, and is puffing away at a cigar
while listening to Sherman. Sherman, tall, with high,
commanding forehead, is almost as loosely built as Lin-
coln ; has sandy whiskers, closely-cropped, and sharp,
twinkling eyes, slouched hat, his pantaloons tucked into
his boots. He is talking hurriedly, gesticulating to
Lincoln, now to Grant, his eyes wandering everywhere.
Meade, also tall, with thin, sharp features, a gray beard
and spectacles, is a little stooping in his gait. Sheridan,
the shortest of all, quick and energetic in all his move-
ments, with a face bronzed by sun and wind, is courteous,
affable and a thorough soldier."

Lincoln visited Meade also. I was one of the de-
tachment sent to the railroad station to receive the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

President and escort him to headquarters. Orders had
been issued for a grand review in honor of the chief
magistrate, but before Lincoln had reached the station
the troops were more seriously engaged. Gen. Lee had
discovered that his situation was becoming more critical
each hour that he remained in Richmond, and he deter-
mined to make a break for the Union works near the
Appomattox, on the Petersburg line. If he could cap-
ture and hold Fort Steadman and the ridge in rear of
it, he could seriously cripple Grant's army and perhaps
seize City Point.

General John B. Gordon was the commander selected
by Lee to undertake the capture of the works. The
assault was successful so far as getting into and taking
possession of Fort Steadman was concerned, but the
Federals rallied and recaptured the fort, the guns of
which had been turned on our works to the right anc
left. The rebels had plunged into the Union lines in
the darkness. The pickets were scarcely one hundred
and fifty feet apart in front of Fort Steadman, and the
main earthworks were separated by about as many yards.
It is said that Gordon had the utmost confidence in the
success of the expedition. He had been assured that
the assault would be supported by troops from A. P.
Hill and Longstreet's corps. It was a bold attack, but
the gallant boys in blue, though driven from the fort
and some of the works in the immediate vicinity at the

DOWN IN DIXIE.

outset, returned to the front, and the rebel general found
that he had no time to spare in getting back behind the
Confederate breastworks. The Johnnies were routed
with great loss, and nearly two thousand prisoners were
captured by the Federals.

The attack on Fort Steadman woke up the whole
army. Meade concluded to give the Johnnies all the
fighting they wanted, and he ordered the Second and
Sixth corps — occupying the line to the left of the Ninth
corps in the front of which the rebel assault was made

— to push out and see what was going on in their front.

The boys went forward with a cheer, and the Con-
federate pickets were driven back into the main fortifi-
cations, the rifle pits and the strongly intrenched picket
line being taken by the assaulting forces. Nearly nine
hundred Johnnies were captured.

Several counter charges were made by the rebels to
drive our boys out of the works, but they satisfied them-
selves that the Yankees had come to stay. It was a
cold day for the Confederates all along the line.

President Lincoln witnessed the battle in front of
the Second and Sixth corps. He was on a ridge near
the signal tower of the Second corps. Several ladies

— I think Mrs. Grant, and I don't know but Mrs. Lin-
coln was in the party — were there. They had been
driven out from the railroad in an ambulance to see the
review, but the President came to the front mounted.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

As a horseman Lincoln was not a success. As I re-
member it, he rode Grant's best horse. Several staff
officers were at the station with a detachment of cavalry
to look after the President. The latter's clothes seemed
to fit him when he got into the saddle, but before he
dismounted at the signal tower he presented a sorry
spectacle indeed. The cavalry escort reached the station
a few minutes before the train from the Point came
puffing along. The President stood on the platform of
the only passenger coach. The escort presented sabers
and Lincoln acknowledged the salute by raising his hat.
Then he came down from the cab and shook hands
with the staff officers, who seemed to feel highly com-
plimented to be recognized by the commander-in-chief.
But when the President extended his hand to a high
private of the rear rank who stood holding the horse His
Excellency was to ride, and insisted on shaking hands
with each soldier of the escort, the wearers of shoulder
straps appeared to be dazed at such familiarity. The
honored head of the greatest nation on earth recogniz-
ing in the wearer of the plain blue blouse of a humble
private a fellow citizen ! Military red tape could not
comprehend it, but it made no difference with " Father
Abraham " ; he had a way of doing just as he pleased
on such occasions. As the President advanced to
mount, the orderly in charge of the horse, with a sly
clance at Lincoln's legs, said :

DOWN IN DIXIE.

" You ride a longer stirrup than the general, sir. I'll
fix them in a jiffy."

" No, no, my man ; never mind. The stirrups are
all right. I don't like to stand on my toes in the
saddle."

Then the President threw his right leg over the
horse's back and smiled at the orderly's surprise at such
an unmilitary exhibition as Lincoln made of himself in
getting into the saddle.

" Thank you," said the great emancipator, as the
orderly relinquished his hold of the bridle, and the horse
with his distinguished rider began to dance around
ready for the word " Forward."

The staff officers sprang into their saddles, the
escort broke into columns of fours, and the party started
for the front. The President had jammed his hat well
down over the back of his head to keep it from falling
off. He leaned forward in the saddle so that his chin
almost touched the horse's mane. His coat was unbut-
toned and soon worked itself up around his arms and
flapped out behind. His vest seceded from his panta-
loons and went up toward his neck, so that his white
shirt showed between the vest and trousers like a sash.
And it did not take long for the pantaloons to creep up
the long legs of the distinguished visitor. Up to the
knees they went — and higher. The President dis-
covered that he was not cutting a very fine figure, but

DOWN IN DIXIE.

he had no time to fix things. His horse required all
his attention, and more, too. The animal knew he was
entitled to the head of the column, and he kept there.

Some of the staff officers, fearing perhaps that the
horse would run away with the President, essayed to
ride alongside and seize the bridle. The attempt proved
a dismal failure. On went the fiery steed, bearing his
honored rider out the road toward the breastworks.
Lincoln held on. Now his feet were in the stirrups
with' his knees bobbing up nearly to his chin ; anon his
feet were out of the stirrups and his long legs dangled
down almost to the ground. As we approached the line
of battle of the Second corps, it was understood that
the horse had " taken the bit in his mouth." Would he
stop when he reached the group of officers up on the
knoll, or would he go on and carry the President into
the battle over there between the forts ? Whatever
apprehensions may have been felt by the chief magis-
trate or any of those in the escort on this score, were
quieted as we drew near to the signal tower. The horse
slackened his speed and gave the President an oppor-
tunity to shake himself a little, so that his coat and
pantaloons were to some extent brought back where
they belonged.

The President seemed to regain his wonted good
nature at once upon halting, and when some of the gen-
eral officers who came to greet him asked him how he

DOWN IN DIXIE.

had enjoyed his ride, he exclaimed, with a merry twinkle
in his eye : " It was splendid. I don't know but I rode
a little too fast for the gentlemen who followed, but
I was anxious to get here — or somewhere — where I
could have a good view of the fight and get off and
pull down my pants."

And Father Abraham laughed heartily as he joined
the group near the signal tower. Did the President
relate an anecdote or two called up by the incidents of
the trip ? No ; for the booming of the cannon, the
roaring of the musketry and the cheers of the troops
as they marched by and took up the double quick to
join in the assault on the enemy's outer works in
front of Petersburg, called the attention of all to the
serious events transpiring so close at hand.

How the soldiers cheered when informed of Lincoln's
presence ! They waved their caps and held their musk-
ets over their heads as they pushed on, many of them
to die in a few minutes in that desperate struggle for
the rebel pits and breastworks.

Meade succeeded in capturing and holding several
important points in front of Petersburg, and the poor
Johnnies were more discouraged than ever before. The
President and his party returned to City Point that
night, and he remained at Grant's headquarters till after
the lieutenant-general moved out to the left and until
the fall of Richmond.

CHAPTER XIII.

Grant's Spring Opening — By the Left Flank Again — Sheridan
at Five Forks — The Fall of Richmond and Petersburg — A
Dangerous Ride — How Jeff Davis faced the Yankees —
Chasing Lee up the Appomattox — Breaking the Backbone of
the Southern Confederacy — The Surrender — Confiscating a
Confederate Goose — A Colored Boy to the Rescue.

ND now came the orders for what Grant
intended should be the last grand cam-
paign of the gallant Army of the Poto-
mac. Sheridan, as usual, was to lead
off and push out around the right flank
of the rebel forces cooped up in Peters-
burg and Richmond. The bulk of the
army was to follow, and it was evident that unless the
Southern Confederacy got out of the way " right smart,"
somebody would get hurt. Everybody was on the move,
or ready to move, even the troops who were to remain
in the fortifications having their knapsacks packed.
The feelins; was general anions: the rank and file

DOWN IN DIXIE.

that a decisive battle was to be fought, and all felt
that the Union cause would triumph. There were no
spread-eagle proclamations promulgated through general
orders. Grant was never given to that. His instruc-
tions to his lieutenants gave them to understand just
what they were expected to do — they were to move
against the rebels and go in to win.

Little Phil opened the ball at Five Forks on the last
day of March. The army had moved March 29, but
the infantry had been unable to make much progress,
being stuck in the mud, for the rain set in during the
evening of the twenty-ninth and continued all night and
the next day and night. The rebels pressed Sheridan
hard. Yet the hero of Winchester held on like grim
death. The next day with the aid of the infantry sent
to his support, he pitched in and routed the rebels,
capturing more than five thousand prisoners and
putting to flight fifteen thousand or more, who ske-
daddled in such a hurry that they left behind all their
cannon and supply wagons. The battle was anything
but an April-fool joke.

Meade, Orel and Parke made a general assault on
the works in front of Petersburg, April 2. It was Sun-
day morning. The roar of battle could be heard -from
away over on the Appomattox above City Point, all
along the line. It was a magnificent sight to see the
infantry going in. As the charge was being made, Gen.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

Meade sent Major Emory of his staff with a dispatch
to Gen. Wright commanding the Sixth corps. I was
directed to accompany the major. Gen. Wright was
said to be hotly engaged in capturing intrenchments off
to the left of Petersburg, and to reach him it would be
necessary to make a wide circuit to the left and rear, or
ride directly across the field where the battle was raging.
Major Emory decided upon the latter course, and away
we went.

The Johnnies, realizing that their time had come,
were making a desperate defense of the works, and the
shot and shell screeched over and under and around us
on all sides as we rode the line of battle. One shell
exploded directly under the major's horse, throwing up
a cloud of dirt and smoke, and for a moment I felt sure
Gen. Meade had lost one of his aids. Then I heard
the major shout :

" Come on. I'm all right."

It was dangerous work. The infantry soldiers were
falling on all sides. But we came out alive and reached
Gen. Wright, who had broken through the outer lines
and was pushing toward Petersburg.

The fall of Richmond ! All Sunday night the rebels
were getting out of Richmond and Petersburg. The
backbone of the Confederacy was broken indeed. The
news seemed too good to be true. We rode into
Petersburg Monday morning, bright and early, and

DOWN IN DIXIE.

without dismounting, we kept on and immediately took
up the line of march in pursuit of Lee's army, which
was now retreating up the Appomattox.

It was a hot chase — a sort of go-as-you-please. Of
course when Richmond was evacuated, the boys in blue
felt that the end was at hand. When the Confederate
commander telegraphed to Jeff Davis that the " enemy "
had broken the line in front of Petersburg, it was a
cold day for C. S. A.

It is recorded that Jeff Davis was attending church
when he received Lee's dispatch, and that he quietly
stole away without waiting for the doxology or the
benediction. It was a clear case of " every man for
himself." The " president " didn't whisper even to the
brother in the next pew that it was time to flee from
the wrath to come. No. Perhaps he had heard the
echo of that familiar Yankee hymn:

" We'll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple-tree,
As we go marching on."

The " president " made better time in getting away
from the seat of government than was made by the
braves in butternut. He did not draw a long breath
till he had distanced the retreating Confederates and
reached Danville. To stimulate his soldiers to deeds
of daring — and to induce them to beat back the Union
army if possible till he could make good his escape

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— Davis declared in a proclamation, issued on the wing
at Danville, April 5, 1865, that " Virginia, with the help
of the people, and by the blessings of Providence, shall
be held and defended." " Let us," he continued, " meet
the foe with fresh defiance, and with unconquered and
unconquerable hearts."

Before his signature to the document was dry, Jeff
was making a bee-line for Georgia. He was willing to
meet the foe face to face on paper. " You hold Grant
in check till I can get far enough South to establish a
rallying-point," was the burden of his messages to the
rebel general when read between the lines. At all
events, the president of the Southern Confederacy took
to the woods, and was next heard of at Irwinsville,
Georgia, May 11, 1S65. Wilson's troopers took the
fugitive into camp on that day.

The circumstances of the capture of Jeff Davis have
been the subject of heated controversy — in magazine
articles and newspaper publications. Whatever may be
the fact in respect of his wearing apparel at the time
the Yankee cavalrymen overhauled the rebel president

— whether he had on his wife's petticoats or was clad
in masculine attire — certain it is that in abandoning
the " lost cause," and leaving Lee and his followers to
" meet the foe with fresh defiance," while he skedaddled,
the " rebel hero" — still idolized and worshiped by the
solid South — made a sorry exhibition of himself.

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On the chase up the Appomattox our boys were
kept busy — in the saddle night and clay — carrying-
dispatches to and from Meade's headquarters. It was
a very interesting period. Sheridan was neck-and-neck
with Lee, while the grand old Army of the Potomac
was hot on the rebel commander's trail.

Gen. Meade was seriously ill for several days pre-
ceding the negotiations that led to the surrender. But
he kept in the saddle most of the time, in spite of the
request of the headquarters' medical men, that he
should "avoid all excitement!" It was strange advice
to give under such circumstances. The hero of Gettys-
burg realized that the boys were knocking the bottom
out of the Southern Confederacy, and he was determined
to be in at the death.

Whenever there was heavy firing at the front, Meade
would get out of the ambulance, in which he rode when
compelled to leave the saddle, and call for his favorite
horse " Baldy." Then he would ask his son George,
one of his aids, or Major Jay or Major Emory, to assist
him into the saddle. Once mounted, the general seemed
to have a way of shaking off his sickness. He would
press on to the head of the column and make a personal
reconnaissance. As soon as the rear guard of the rebels
— left to check the Union advance while the Confed-
erate wagon trains and artillery were hurried to the
west — was brushed out of the way, and the line of

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march resumed, the general would return to his ambu-
lance, at times completely exhausted.

April 4, 1865, was one of the hardest days of the
chase. It was a forced march with only an occasional
breathing spell when the advance was feeling its way
along the roads leading toward Appomattox. That
night we unsaddled with what we considered fair pros-
pects of rest. But before we had settled clown for
sleep, a trooper dashed up to Meade's headquarters.
The general was so ill that he could scarcely hold up
his head, but when told that Sheridan had intercepted
the Confederates, and predicted the capture of Lee's
army if the Army of the Potomac would push to the
front near Jettersville, Meade got out of bed and gave
orders for the march to be resumed at two o'clock in
the morning.

The bovs were waiting for the wagons to come up
with the hard tack and coffee, and the prospect of push-
ing on without grub was anything but transporting.
Still when the time came to "fall in," the men obeyed
with a cheerfulness characteristic of the veterans of the
gallant army that for four years had fought Lee's soldiers
with varied success.

The next morning Sheridan's men — a scouting
party under Gen. Davies, our brigade commander —
played havoc with a Confederate wagon train that was
" sifting west." Nearlv two hundred wagons were de-

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stroyed. It was hard for the Johnnies to witness the
destruction of their supply train. Poor fellows, they
needed all the grub they could get, and more, too.
They fought desperately, but the battle was against
them. The Federal column moved on, and the sur-
rounding of Lee's army was pushed on all sides. The
boys in blue were hungry, but they kept in good spirits.
"We can stand it if the rebs can," was remarked now
and then as the boys were ordered to move on just
before the supply train would get up.

On the battlefield of Sailor's Creek I picked up
Gen. Lee's order book. The last order copied into
the book was dated Saturday, April i, 1865, and, as I
remember it, the order referred to the sending of re-en-
forcements from the works in front of Petersburg to
oppose Sheridan's advance on the Union left. The
ground was strewn with the debris of the rebel head-
quarters' train. Army wagons with spokes cut out of
the wheels were overturned on both sides of the road.
" In the last ditch ; " " The C. S. A. is gone up ; " " We
all can't whip you all without something to eat," and
other humorous inscriptions appeared on the canvas
covers of the wagons. I wish I had held on to Lee's
order book. It would have been valuable to-day. But
it was heavy, and I threw it aside.

April 9, 1865, while Sheridan was square across the
road preventing Lee's further advance without cutting

DOWN IN DIXIE.

his way through, and the Army of the Potomac was on
the iiank and rear, came the news that white flags were
displayed along the rebel lines and that Grant and Lee
were negotiating for the surrender of the Confederate
army of Northern Virginia. Meade's headquarters con-
tingent was bivouacked just off the road leading to
Appomattox Court House from Farmville.

" Lee's going to surrender ! "

The boys could scarcely credit the report that the
Confederate commander had asked terms, for, somehow
or other, after a week's hard chase the Yankees had
begun to fear that Lee would effect a junction with
Johnston in North Carolina. But when an orderly from
Grant's headquarters dashed up and handed Meade a
letter from the lieutenant-general confirming the report
that Lee had accepted Grant's terms, there was the
greatest joy at headquarters.

The news spread like wildfire, and in a few minutes
the tired soldiers were dancing with joy. I was broiling
a confiscated chicken in the angle of a rail fence when
the orderly rode up. When I was told of the tidings
he had brought I threw the chicken as high as I could,
kicked the fire in every direction, and shouted till my
throat was sore.

Gen. Meade, with a few members of the escort of
which I was one, rode into the Confederate lines and to
Lee's camp. The Southern commander had only a wall

DOWN IN DIXIE.

tent fly for headquarters. Longstreet was there and
several others whom Meade had known in the old army.
Meade and Lee conversed for a few minutes alone. In
the meantime a sergeant of Meade's escort and a ser-
geant of Lee's headquarters guard entered into such a
heated argument that the interference of several officers
of both sides was necessary to prevent them from fight-
ing to a finish.

As we were riding down the slope from Lee's
bivouac, a weather-stained Confederate, wearing an old
slouch hat, a short butternut jacket, and with a dilapi-
dated blanket wrapped about his shoulders, shouted to
Meade. The commander of the Arm}- of the Potomac
did not recognize the man who hailed him and who
held out his hand, until the rebel said :

" Don't you know me, General ? I'm Gen. Wise of
Virginia."

Then there was another handshake. Wise was the
sorriest looking general I saw at the surrender. Lee
and Longstreet and some of the others were clad in
bright new uniforms, but Wise looked as though he
had been rolled in the mud all the way from Petersburg.

After calling on Lee, Meade rode over to the Court
House and congratulated Grant and Sheridan on the
result. The Union generals seemed to enjoy the " love
feast."

There was joy and gladness on all sides. A major-

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ity of the rebels who surrendered at Appomattox ac-
cepted the inevitable with better grace than could have
been expected of them after the desperate resistance
they had made. But when you put food into a starving
man's mouth the chances favor his smothering his
hatred if he has such feeling toward you.

" Dog gone it, that's splendid coffee," said a butter-
nut clad veteran who shared my supper the night of
the surrender. " You all overpowered us ; we couldn't
hold out on wind any longer. I like this meat ; I tell
you, it's good. I didn't know I was so hungry ; I must
have got beyond the hunger point."

Then came the order for the return. It was not
"on to Richmond" this time, but "on to Washington."
We all knew that the war was over — that Sherman
would make short work of the Confederate Army in the
Carolinas under Johnston.

When we mounted our horses and rode back toward
Burkesville station, leaving the provost marshal and a
small force at Appomattox to parole the prisoners, it
was conceded by both Yankee and rebel that the Army
of the Potomac and the army of Northern Virginia
would never again meet as enemies on the battlefield.
The boys in blue felt that they had fought a good fight,
won a glorious victory, and could now return to their
homes proud to have been permitted to suffer and do
battle under the flag of the Union.

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It was a happy arm)- that faced about at Appomat-
tox and took up the march for Washington. The
bands played, and the victorious Federals sang. The
bivouacs at night were camp meetings on a large scale.
Somehow the boys did not need as much sleep as was
required when in winter quarters. Discipline was re-
laxed, and colonels and corporals, captains and privates
talked over the results of the last campaign without
any " red tape nonsense," as the boys were wont to call
a strict observance of military discipline when there was
no fighting to do.

1 he song that was sung with the most expression
on that homeward march, was a parody on " Dear
Mother, I've come home to die," the last word being
changed to " eat." Then there was that lively air:

" When Johnny comes marching home again,

Hurrah, hurrah !
When Johnnv comes marching home again,

Hurrah, says I ;
The lads and lassies, so thev sav,
With roses they will strew the way,
And we'll all feel gay
When Johnny comes marching home."

On the road between Farmville and Burkesville
station I dismounted at a farmhouse and asked a little
negro boy who stood near the fence with mouth and
eyes wide open, for a drink of water. The lad seemed
to be frightened, and ran away around the house.

DOWN IN DIXIE

" You, Julius, come here ! " shouted a middle-aged
lady who stepped out on the piazza. She had over-
heard my request for water. The young darky returned
at the lady's command.

" I'se 'fraid dese Yankees," he said.

" I don't think they'll molest you, Julius. Bring the
gentleman a drink of water."

I was invited to a seat on the piazza pending Julius's
expedition to the spring house, a rod or two back of the
dwelling. He returned with a large gourd dipper filled
with deliciously cool water. In the meantime three
young ladies, daughters of the middle-aged lady, ap-
peared on the piazza and were presented by their
mother to the Yankee. Then Julius went to the spring
to fill my canteen.

" I'm sorry we have nothing but water to offer you,"
said the mother.

The young ladies also ventured to speak.

" The two armies, ours and yours, just took every-
thing in the shape of provisions on the place."

" Yes ; and the soldiers found where we had stored a
few hams and a sack of flour down in the woods."

" And they made out they came across the place
accidentally like. I believe Jeb, a brother of Julius,
told the Yankees where we had buried the box with
the hams and flour, for he hasn't been seen on the
plantation since."

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" I am really sorry for you, ladies. I will speak to
Gen. Meade, and I am sure he will direct the commis-
sary to supply you with something to eat."

" I think we can hold out for another day," said the
mother. " My husband was in Longstreet's corps, and
he said when he galloped by here the other day that
the Confederacy was played out, and that if something
providential did not turn up on the side of Lee's army
they would all be gobbled up inside of ten days. His
last words were: ' If you can save me a dish of meat
of some kind till I get home, do it ; it may save my
life.' "

" And we're doing our best for papa."

" Yes, we are. When the last Yankees marched by
on the way to the surrender, we found we had one goose
left" —

" Yes; and we've got the goose yet, clown in the
cellar " —

" Now, Miss Emma, you have told a Yankee about
the goose, and papa's chances for dinner when he comes
home are mighty slim."

" Dear sir, you will spare us ? "

" Mr. Yankee, let us keep our goose ? "

" I know you didn't mean to rob us ! "

" The goose is safe, ladies. Cook your goose for
the family reunion, for I assure you that there isn't a
man in the Federal army mean enough to steal a goose

DOWN IN DIXIE.

under such circumstances, especially now that the war
is over."

" I feel relieved."
" Oh ! so much."
" How kind you are."

" The Yankees are not so black as our papers have
painted them. I'm so rejoiced to know that we can
save the goose."

Just then Julius came bounding around the corner
of the house. His hair fairly stood on end, and his eyes
seemed starting from their sockets.

" Miss Julia ! Miss Julia ! Miss Julia ! "
" What is it, Julius ? "
" O, Miss Julia! Miss Julia!"
" Speak, you idiot ! "

" De goose, Miss Julia, de goose ! See dar, see
dar ! Look, dat Yankee gwine ober de fence yonder
wid de goose you's a-keepin' for Massa Colonel Bob ! "

Sure enough, Julius was right. While the ladies
had been entertaining me on the piazza a straggling
cavalryman had entered the yard. He had filled his
canteen at the spring house. Then he interviewed
Julius. Next he slipped into the cellar and raised a tub
that was bottom-side up on the cellar bottom.

Under the tub he found the goose, which he seized
by the neck. In a few seconds he had jumped over the
fence to where his horse was standing, and without

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paying any attention to my shouts for him to " stop or
drop that goose," the blue-coated robber put spurs to
his steed and disappeared down the road.

The goose was gone. Col. Bob's dinner was spoiled
so far as that goose was concerned.

" Ladies " —

" Don't speak to me."

" Nor me."

" But I assure you " —

" Yes, you assured us a few minutes ago."

" I had misgivings all the time that Miss Emma
would tell about the goose."

" But, mother dear, don't cry ; I thought we could
trust a gentleman."

" So we could, but we should have known better
than to trust a Yankee."

I believe that I would have shot the bummer who
confiscated that goose had he been within range of my
revolver while I was under fire on that piazza. I never
felt quite so mean in the presence of ladies before.

" Go and join your partner," said the mother.

" Leave us, sir! " chorused the daughters.

What a predicament for a youthful soldier. There
I stood, despised and hated by four ladies with whom I
had been apparently on good terms a few moments be-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

fore. Had a band of bushwhackers opened fire on me
at that moment I should have been happy again.

The bushwhackers did not come, but Julius did. I
shall never forget Julius.

"Miss Julia, dis yere Yankee doan' know nuffin
'bout stealin' dat goose."

" How do you know, nigger? "

" Cos' what dat oder Yankee say."

" What did he say? "

" He tole me 'fi made de leas bit of holler so dat
Yankee sittin' on de porch wid you all see he, he would
don' cut my brack hed off wid he's s'od. Deed he did,
Miss Julia."

" How did he know about the goose ? "

" Spec I'se de nigger to blame. He axed me whar
missus kept her pervisions, an' fo' I know'd what I do'n,
I sav, ' Nuffin left but one ole goose, Massa.' Den he
say, ' Whar dat goose ? ' an' what wor a poor nigger to
do, Miss Julia ? "

" We have done you an injustice, sir," said the
mother, again turning to me.

" Pardon us, sir," said the younger ladies.

" Don't mention it, ladies. I am so glad that I am
relieved from the suspicion of complicity in the stealing
of that ^oose, that I would stay and help cook a dinner
to celebrate Col. Bob's return were it not for the fact
that I must go on and report to Gen. Meade."

DOWN IN DIXIE.

We parted very good friends. A goodly store of
rlour, meat, coffee and sugar was sent to the ladies from
the Union commissary department, and no doubt Col.
Bob reached home in time to share the rations with his
charming family.

Although twenty-six years have come and gone
since my experience on the piazza of that Virginia
farmhouse, I cannot repress a feeling whenever I recall
the circumstances, that I would be pleased to meet that
" other Yankee " who did steal that goose and choke
him till he cried " peccavi! "

CHAPTER XIV.

Assassination of Lincoln — The Return March — A Homeless
Confederate — Not Destroyed by the Yankees — The Goddess
of Liberty — The Grand Review — Grant's Final Order.

'HE news of the assassination of Lincoln
reached us at Burkesville Junction — the
crossing of the Richmond and Danville
and the Southside railroads — April 15,
1865. The terrible intelligence came
over the military telegraph wire about
midnight of the fourteenth, I think, but it was not pro-
mulgated to the troops until after reveille in the morn-
ing. Secretary Seward had been dangerously wounded
by one of the assassins, and the Head of the Nation
had been murdered by J. Wilkes Booth, who as he was
escaping from the theater at Washington where the
President was shot, brandished a dagger on the stage
and shouted, " Sic semper tyrannis ! " and " the South
is avenged ! "

As the details of the dastardly plot were made

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known, the army was informed that the assassin in-
tended to take the life of Gen. Grant. Battle-scarred
and stern-faced veterans who had fought from the first
Bull Run to Appomattox turned pale and set their
teeth as the dispatches were read to the men drawn up
in line. It was difficult to believe at first that Abraham
Lincoln, the great and noble and tender-hearted Presi-
dent whom we had seen only a few days before neat-
Petersburg, was dead. Yet the sad news was confirmed
as later dispatches came to hand.

The Union soldiers again began to look after their
cartridge boxes. They knew not what to expect next.
This was a new phase of warfare. But in spite of the
declaration of the assassin that the South was avenged,
a majority of the rank and file of Grant's army as they
recovered from the first shock of the dreadful calamity,
were ready to exonerate the men who had laid clown
their arms at Appomattox from any complicity in the
plot that struck down the noble Lincoln at the very
moment that the glorious sun of peace was rising above
the dark clouds that had hung like a pall over the
nation for four long years.

Lincoln was murdered on the fourth anniversary
of the capture of Fort Sumter by the rebels. The
traitors who directed the firing on the flag waving over
that fortress four years before, and who had set on foot
and carried forward the wickedest rebellion ever in-

DOWN IN DIXIE.

augurated, were responsible for the death of the martyr
Lincoln and the thousands who fell on both sides of
that sanguinary conflict.

A few days after the assassination we continued our
march to Richmond, camping for a day or two in Man-
chester on the opposite side of the James. The ruin
and havoc made by the rebels when evacuating their
capital, subjected the inhabitants to great hardships.
A large portion of the city was burned.

I witnessed the return of a veteran in butternut to
his home in Richmond. He came down the hill from
the State House and turned into a street leading toward
the river. His right arm was in a sling. He had been
wounded early in the morning of the day that Lee sur-
rendered. The disbanded Confederate was literally in
rags and the uppers of his shoes had seceded from the
soles. Yet his face was beaming with joyful anticipa-
tion, for he was nearing his home.

But as he reached what had been the corner of an-
other street and turned to the right, his serviceable
hand was raised and his knees trembled as he looked in
vain for the dwelling he had left when last he bade his
little family good-by and hastened away to help build
the breastworks in front of Petersburg. The dwellings
that had stood in that neighborhood were now a mass
of blackened ruins. The poor fellow sank down in the
street and a colored man hastened to his assistance.

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" I declar, it's Massa John," exclaimed the negro as
lie raised the head of the soldier. " Doan' you know
me, Massa ? "

" Is it Pomp ? "
" Deed an' 'tis Pomp, Massa."
" Where is your mistress and the children?"
" Dey's ober on the odder side de bridge, Massa;
how glad dey'll be to see you.
We all 'spected de Yankees dun
kill you, shuah nuff."

Just then a woman came hur-
riedly from around the corner and
stopped for a moment as she sur-
veyed the scene before her.

" Who is it, Pomp ? " she eagerly
inquired, as she advanced toward
the party in the street.

" Bress de Lawd, it's Massa
John."

In another moment husband
and wife were in each other's arms,
their tears flowing freely.

" And the children, Mary ? "
"Safe and well, praise God."
"Amen. Praise God you are all alive."
" But you are wounded ? "
"Yes, clear; I'll be unable to use my right arm for a

WOUNDED CONFEDERATE.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

few months; but when it gets well we will rebuild the
home which the Yankees have destroyed for us."

" But, my dear, our home was not destroyed by the
Yankees. The city was fired by our own men as they
left us. The fire was raging terribly when the Yankees
came in and did all they could to prevent the spread of
the flames."

" Is that so? Then I have fought for years, lost the
use of my right arm and returned to find my home de-
stroyed by order of one of our own generals. Surely,
wife, the hand of God has been against the Confederacy.
We were taught to believe that we were fighting for
liberty, but we were mistaken. I love the stars and
bars. I have fought and bled for our flag, yet I be-
gin to feel that secession was not right. Our leaders
were wrong, and it follows that we must suffer for it."

" What shall we do, John ? "

" Do ? Well, the outlook is not bright, I'll admit.
But we'll not get discouraged. I have a brother in
Boston who has money, you know, and I believe he'll
help us out. He told me not to go into the Confeder-
ate army. He said we would get whipped, but I didn't
believe it then. Brother was right, and I'll send him a
letter next mail."

Then the wounded Confederate and his better half
started off to meet their children at the house of a
friend. I gave him the contents of mv haversack and

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several other troopers who were with me also gave our
late foe what they had with them.

" Thank you, boys; I'm glad it's over," he said, as he
handed the provisions to Pomp, who " toted " it to their
friend's residence over the bridge.

From Richmond we marched to Washington, enjoy-
ing the trip greatly. On the way we passed over many
of the Virginia battlefields. Here and there farmers
were plowing and preparing to put in grain where the
opposing armies had recently been in camp. The
column was in the best of spirits. The war was over.
Our side had gained the victory and we were homeward
bound. As we came to the brow of Arlington Heights
and caught our first glance of the Capitol in the dis-
tance, cheer after cheer was given. The bands played
martial tunes and the rejoicing was general.

" The Goddess has been put on top of the dome,"
said one of the boys of Company I.

" Yes ; but poor Taylor isn't with us to see the grand
sight," remarked another.

We went into camp on Arlington Heights, and the
bulk of the Army of the Potomac soon arrived. It was
a grand reunion. The soldiers visited through the
bivouacs and in Washington. Relatives and friends
from home came down to see the boys and to congratu-
late the victorious army.

Then came the gallant army that had marched from

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Atlanta to the sea commanded by Gen. Sherman. The
two armies fraternized for the first time. And it was a
glorious meeting. Volumes could be written of inter-
esting incidents of those last days of army life around
Washington.

Before the troops were disbanded they participated
in a general review in Washington ; the Army of the
Potomac, May 23, and Sherman's army, May 24, 1865.
It was the grandest military display ever seen. Orders
for the review were promulgated several days in ad-
vance, and so thoroughly disciplined were the troops,
that in all that vast aggregation of military organiza-
tions there was no break during the two days of parad-
ing. Everything moved with clocklike regularity.

The first day — Army of the Potomac day — found
Companies C and D, First Massachusetts cavalry, in
line before reveille. The boys had been all night
polishing their sabers and other equipments. No one
could sleep on such an occasion. We were to ride
before the President, governors of loyal States and other
dignitaries, and we were anxious to do honor to the
event — the event of a lifetime.

I had the honor to be one of three soldiers of the
escort to ride next to Gen. Meade on the grand review.
The general was the first military man to ride by the
reviewing stand at the White House.

The headquarters flag of the Army of the Potomac

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was carried by a sergeant of our company. On the
right of the sergeant, who was a few paces in the rear
of Gen. Meade, rode a trooper of Company D, and I
rode on the sergeant's left; we were three abreast. It
was a position of honor, and we felt it, although we did
not appropriate to ourselves all the homage paid to the
head of the column. We were willing to admit that
some of the cheering was intended for the grand old
hero of Gettysburg, George Gordon Meade.

As the escort and staff of the Army of the Potomac
arrived at the Capitol building, thousands of school-
girls dressed in white appeared. The bands played
" Hail to the Chief," and one of the prettiest of the
larger girls came forward to present Gen. Meade an
evergreen wreath, beautifully festooned with roses, and
neatly tied with satin ribbon. The general's horse
" flaxed around " so that he could not reach the wreath,
and he called me to receive it, which I did, and passed
it over my shoulder, wearing it like a sash on the review.
The bands played again, and we took up the line of
march on Pennsylvania Avenue. On to the turn at the
Treasury Building; another turn, this time to the left,
and we were in front of the White House.

On either side the avenue was packed, and we
looked into a great sea of faces all the way. And how
the people did cheer and shout. Never was such
another scene presented.

DOWN IN DIXIE.

All the buildings along the line of march were
decorated. Flags, banners and bunting waved from
every edifice. Across the south face of the Capitol an
inscription standing out in large letters declared :

" The Only National Debt We Can Never Pay is
the Debt We Owe To the Victorious Union Soldiers."

Gen. Meade after passing the reviewing stand rode
into the gate in front of the White House, dismounted
and joined Grant and other distinguished people on the
platform. The color sergeant, the D Company orderly
and myself remained mounted near the gate inside the
yard, and witnessed the review of the gallant Army of
the Potomac, sixty-five thousand strong, marching by,
company front.

It was a magnificent spectacle. There we sat for
six hours and more, as the proud Union soldiers marched
triumphantly before the representatives of the Govern-
ment. So well planned was the movement of the
troops, that some of the brigades, after passing the
reviewing stand, marched to camp, were dismissed, and
the soldiers returned to the city and joined the thou-
sands of citizens witnessing the parade. And while the
leading divisions were marching in review, some of those
which came into column later in the day, were back in
their bivouacs, cooking coffee for a lunch before falling
into line.

The second day, May 24, Sherman's splendid army

DOWN IN DIXIE.

was reviewed. Gen. Meade occupied a seat on the
reviewing stand, and his two orderlies sat on their
horses near the gate in the White House yard, as they
had done the day before.

Sherman's " bummers " came in for a good share of
the applause as they marched behind the regiments to
which they belonged, and here and there a Georgia
contraband also attracted attention. The review ended,
we returned to our camp on the south side of the
Potomac, on Arlington Heights.

June 2, 1S65, came Grant's final order to the Union
soldiers. It was read to the troops, and concluded as
follows :

" In obedience to your country's call, you left your homes and families, and
volunteered in its defense. Victory has crowned your valor, and secured the pur-
pose of your patriotic hearts, and with the gratitude of your countrymen and the
highest honors a great and free nation can accord, you will soon be permitted to
return to your homes and families, conscious of having discharged the highest
duties of American citizens.

" To achieve the glorious triumphs, and secure to yourselves, your fellow-
countrymen and posterity the blessings of free institutions, tens of thousands of
your gallant comrades have fallen, and sealed the priceless legacy with their
lives. The graves of these a grateful nation bedews with tears, honors their
memories, and will ever cherish and support their stricken families."

CHAPTER XV.

Mustered Out at Arlington Heights — Back to the Old Bay
State — Discharged From the Service — Startling News in a
Quiet Village — Home, Sweet Home.

ERE at Arlington Heights the squadron
of the First Massachusetts Cavalry, Com-
panies C and D, commanded by Capt. E.
A. Flint, and on duty at headquarters
Army of the Potomac, was mustered out
June 29, 1865, by Capt. J. C. Bates, of the Eleventh
United States infantry, chief commissary of musters, in
compliance with special orders No. 24 headquarters
cavalry corps, June 18, 1865. A few days later we were
en route to the Old Bay State to receive our discharges
at Camp Meigs, Readville. Many of the boys were so
anxious to get home that they could not wait to have
their papers made out, but left requests to have them
sent on to them by mail.

I reached home a day or two after the Fourth of
July. And what a reunion we had ! All the family

DOWN IN DIXIE.

and many of the neighbors assembled to welcome the
soldier boy. Of course I was a hero in the estimation
of the good folks at home. I had yet seven months to
live to reach my seventeenth birthday, but I had
returned with a discharge which declared that " No
objection to his being re-enlisted is known to exist."

In a marginal note it was stated that " This sentence
will be erased should t'here be anything in the conduct
or physical condition of the soldier rendering him unfit
for the army."

Irving Waterman did not reach Berlin until two
days after my arrival. He had remained at Boston to
visit with one of the boys. My little sister Eva, when
she saw me coming down the road without Irving, only
waited to greet me with a kiss, and then started on a
run for the home of Waterman's parents.

" My brother's come home ! " she exclaimed.

"Praise the Lord!" shouted Mrs. Waterman.

" But your son didn't come."

" Didn't he — what's the matter ? "

" He's dead."

" Dead ? Irving dead — no, no ! that can't be."

" But he didn't come, and he must be dead."

Mrs. Waterman headed a procession — a dozen or
more — of men, women and children, who came up the
street on a run. The news that Waterman was dead
spread like wildfire, and soon a large number of

DOWN IN DIXIE.

villagers were at our house to hear all about it. Their
alarm was changed to rejoicing when I assured them
that Waterman was alive and well.

My little sister when she heard mother inquiring
about Irving, and my reply that he had not returned
with me, took it for granted that he was dead, and so
hastened to inform Mrs. Waterman.

Late that night when the family separated to
"catch a little sleep before chore time," as father put it,
and I sank down into mother's best feather bed, and
tried to remember the thrilling events in which I had
participated since Waterman, Taylor and I started for
that " shooting match," I felt that, after all, —

Be it ever so humble.
There's no place like home.

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CHAPEL HILL

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43