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 OP 
 
 GENERAL JAMES M. TUTTLE, 
 
 OF xow^.. 
 
 AND OF 
 
 HON. WM. A. WHEELER. 
 
 Perhaps the serverest loss which the 
 Democratic party has yet suffered in the 
 West is that of Gen. James M. Tuttle, of 
 Iowa, who has abandoned the party un¬ 
 equivocally, and told in vigorous lan¬ 
 guage why he can no longer remain with 
 it. Gen. Tuttle*was a war Democrat, 
 and as a successful officer and strong 
 man of great popularity he has been the 
 head of the Iowa Democracy for fifteen 
 years, their candidate for Governor in 
 1863, and for Congress in 1860. He was 
 always stronger than his party, and has 
 always maintained the principles for 
 which he fought. The recent successes 
 of his party and the doings of the House 
 of Representatives and the St. Louis 
 Convention has shown him what would 
 be the result of Democratic victory in the 
 Presidential canvass. He therefore re¬ 
 pudiates his party and its two-faced ticket 
 and announces himself a voter and worker 
 for Hayes and Wheeler. This he did in 
 response to a serenade by the Hayes and 
 Wheeler Club of Des Moines, on Thursday 
 evening last. We take the leading points of 
 his speech from the Iowa State Register. 
 The speech was impromptu, but is none 
 the worse for that, as it breathes through¬ 
 out with strong clear-cut sentences. Gen. 
 Tuttle spoke as follows : 
 
 Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of 
 the Hayes and Wheeler Club : 
 When I concluded to change my party 
 
 I thought that I might be allowed to do 
 it quietly. It was a private act, and re¬ 
 quired no public announcement, and there 
 was no one to whom I was obligated to 
 account for such an action. But as my 
 course has been so assailed, and I have 
 been called so serverly to account, I may 
 as well embrace this opportunity to tell 
 both my Democratic and my Republican 
 friends why I have left the old Democ¬ 
 racy, and why I am here to-night. The 
 act of my change was a private one, but 
 my reasons for so doing were public ones, 
 and they may be told, and shall be. 
 [Cheers.] I am no speaker, and make no 
 pretensions of being. But I can talk to 
 you as neighbors, Ihave been considered 
 doubtful by many Democrats for nearly 
 two years. [Laughter.] Indeed, I never 
 have been a Democrat if the issues on 
 which they are fighting this year are the 
 principles of the party. [Great applause.] 
 But nearly two years ago the course of 
 duty was developed much more plainly 
 than it ever had been before. What I 
 had seen before that that was wrong I 
 had continued to hope would be found 
 to be mistakes that would be mended. 
 
 REBEL DEMOCRATS. 
 
 Nearly two years ago I was in St. Louis. 
 Now, there is nothing peculiar in simply 
 having been at St. Louis. But I was 
 there also in 1861. [Cheers.] That was 
 just after the first battle of Bull Run, and 
 St. Louis was thoroughly, Mildly, in¬ 
 sanely rebel. It was worth a man’s life 
 then almost to be seen in the Union uni¬ 
 form. A Union officer about the hotels, 
 where congregated the noisest secession 
 elements, was hooted at and derided, and 
 told, with sneers, “Yes, you’ll go South, 
 and you will come back as the Union sol- 
 
2 
 
 t, ---- - — " - — ■■ 
 
 diers have just come back from Bull Run, 
 with your tails tucked.” But, as I re¬ 
 member it, none of our troops from Iowa 
 ever came back in that shape. [Laughter 
 and applause.] That was the feeling in 
 St. Louis in 1861, and this feeling I found 
 there again, in the same spirit and in the 
 same places, re-expressed by the very 
 same men, when I was there in 1874. It 
 was then I heard the news that the Dem¬ 
 ocrats had elected a majority of the na¬ 
 tional House, and these same fellows who 
 swarmed about the hotels talking treason 
 and deriding Union soldiers in 1861 were 
 exultant and delirious with joy this last 
 time. I remarked to a gentleman who 
 had been a comrade with me in the war, 
 “ This looks like the same set of fellows 
 who were spouting treason here at the 
 beginning of the war. What is it that is 
 exciting them so, and what ails them?” 
 We asked a squad of them what it was 
 that made “them feel so good?” I 
 heard one of them say, “We have got 
 them this time. We can beat them this 
 time.” We asked who they meant by 
 “them?” They replied, “ We’ll elect the 
 next President, and then we’ve got them.. 
 Then we’ll get pay for all our property 
 destroyed in the war, and then we’ll get 
 pay for our lost slaves. We have the 
 House overwhelmingly now, and in 1876, 
 the Centennial year, we can get the Sen¬ 
 ate and a Democratic President. Then 
 we can appoint our comiPittees to suit 
 ourselves, and choose our own Southern 
 Claims Committee or Southern Claims 
 Court, and make good our losses by the 
 war.” They meant that they would get 
 pay for all the property destroyed by the 
 Union army, and pay for all their eman¬ 
 cipated slaves. 
 
 THE EX-REBEL PROGRAMME. 
 
 Said one, “Give us possession of the 
 Government, and the North will be the 
 rebels next time.” This was the talk, 
 and the talk in earnest—as was the talk 
 of the same men in 1861. They mean it. 
 They talked it over coolly anid seriously. 
 Said they had already a united south, 
 which would be nearly enough, and that 
 then* Democratic allies in the ISTorth dare 
 not deny them the little more, the few 
 more votes that they would need. This 
 is their idea to-day—to gain by legislation, 
 by means of diplomacy and trickery, what 
 they failed to gain by means of force. I 
 believe it; I know it. All their expres¬ 
 sions suggest it, and all their actions prove 
 it. What else do they mean ? Why is it 
 that the State of Missouri has issued to 
 every former owner of slaves in that State 
 a certificate for $1,000 for every slave, 
 payable when the General Government 
 will pay it ? This very thing, the total 
 
 — — . r—i ■ i. i i m . ■ 
 
 amount of the value of their emanqf- 
 patcd slaves, is now estimated as a part 
 of the State debt of Missouri. I used to 
 think that this was a Republican false¬ 
 hood—the certificate matter; but it is 
 an actual fact, and these certificates, and 
 all certificates of showings of losses sus^ 
 tained throughout the State, are being 
 saved up as carefully as money against 
 the day when the Democracy, and the 
 rebel element ruling it in the national 
 Government, shall have attained to pow¬ 
 er. If Missouri will do this thing, and 
 hold out this promise to pay for all . 
 emancipated slaves, why will not all the 
 Southern, all worse rebel States, do it, 
 and will not they do it ? 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE HOUSE." 
 
 When these things came to my knowl¬ 
 edge I could do no less than halt for 
 further developments, watching suspici¬ 
 ously every movement made thereafter 
 which I could see had a tendency towards 
 drawing the Democracy North and South 
 nearer together, a union which I could 
 see would inevitably put the old rebel 
 element at the head of and virtually in 
 control of the party. [Applause.] Events 
 .have culminated- rapidly since then, and 
 I had not long to wait to see the whole 
 programme. The Democratic House soon 
 gave me light enough. [Cheers.] 
 
 For some time I have been ready to 
 answer the question, “Have you left the 
 Democratic party ?” I have. [Great ap¬ 
 plause.] And I am often asked now, 
 
 “ Is it so ?” Will you vote for Hayes and 
 Wheeler? It is so ; and I will work for 
 them as well as vote for them. [Re¬ 
 newed applause.] My Democratic friends 
 askme for my reasons. There are plenty 
 of them, and all of them cannot be told in 
 these few remarks. And it is not neces¬ 
 sary to tell all. First, let me say that 
 my abandonment of Democracy was not 
 caused, as has been charged by the press 
 of that party, because of the currency 
 or tariff questions. I have no objection to 
 those planks in the St. Louis platform. 
 But my reasons are, as I have already 
 indicated, and will now state further, 
 The Democrats who press me for my 
 reasons may know them. On the road 
 the other day I met an old Democratic 
 friend—one of the Van Buren County 
 Democrats, whom Dave Sheward, in his 
 screed in the paper the other day, said 
 never had any faith in my Democracy 
 after I went into the war. [Applause.] 
 Quite excitedly he wanted to know if it 
 .was true, the report that I had realy left 
 the Democratic party. I answered, “It 
 is a fact.” He asked me the reasons for 
 it. I told him they were qi.ite plenty 
 and sufficient, and as we had plenty of 
 
3 
 
 time I would tell him some of them. 
 Something of what I have already stated 
 here was first said, and then I said that 
 the first thing I didn’t like in the Demo¬ 
 cratic House was the appointment of 
 Fltzhugh, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the 
 Confederate Congress, as doorkeeper of 
 the House, and the displacement of Union 
 soldiers—many of them crippled in the 
 war—with the ex-members of the rebel 
 army. [Great applause.] He wanted to 
 know if they didn’t have a right to do 
 this. I answered that they had, but that 
 I also had the right to disapprove and 
 denounce it. Another tiling I didn’t like 
 was Ben Hill’s rebel speech and its bold 
 utterance of treason, and I didn’t like the 
 rebel yell in response to it all over the 
 South, for I had heard that yell before, 
 and I knew what it meant. [Great 
 cheers,] They tell me—the Democrats— 
 that I am “ scared of Ben Hill.” I don’t 
 think I am : I don’t think I was u scared 
 of’’any of the Hills when I met them 
 in the South; I do not remember that I 
 was. [Great cheering.] Then I told my 
 friend how worse than all of the many 
 bad and unblushing acts of the Demo¬ 
 cratic House, I esteemed as infamous the 
 act of appointing to the clerkship of the 
 leading committee of the House the man 
 Hambleton, who named his son John 
 Wilkes Booth, after the assassin of Presi¬ 
 dent Lincoln. [Immense cheering.] This 
 outrageous act, in truckling to the rebel 
 element, the Northern Democracts dare 
 not disown, and for all I know, tins man 
 is still clerk of that committee. The lit¬ 
 tle child, so dishonored by its name and 
 the significance of it, had the good sense, 
 thank God, to die. [Applause.] 
 
 BEN HILL’S SPEECH. 
 
 That speech of Ben Hill’s, and the 
 record that the Democratic party has 
 made in regard to it, would have been 
 enough of itself to send any man who 
 cares for his country out of all fellow¬ 
 ship with it, and the party in whose 
 name, and by one of whose leading mem¬ 
 bers it was made. Hill in that speech 
 defended Andersonville and the atrocious 
 treatment of Union prisoners in the 
 Southern prison hells. Could I endorse 
 that, and still remember my own com¬ 
 rades who suffered in them more than 
 death and hell? Can any party succeed 
 which even tacitly endorses sentiments 
 like these ? Hill also said in that speech, 
 “We went out of the Union hugging 
 the Constitution, and we came back into 
 the Union hugging it.” What a hug? 
 [Great laughter.] That was what they 
 went out for, not to be rebels, but to “hug 
 the Constitution ”—of the Union they 
 were trying so hard to destroy. I have 
 
 seen them when they were doing this 
 “hugging.” [Applause and laughter.] 
 I remember one morning in April, 1862, 
 the first day of the battle of Shiloh, as 
 the rebel troops came bearing down 
 upon us, that I ascended an elevation 
 to watch them through a field-glass as 
 they came/^It was a grand si°dit, as 
 they came in three columns, with their 
 muskets at “ right shoulder shift ”—that 
 form in which an army looks'its grandest, 
 and by which it always appears to have 
 three times its actual strength. There 
 was a blaze and shine of glory on those 
 advancing columns that I took to be the 
 lustre and shine of bayonets in the sun; 
 but I judge now, since Hill’s speech, that 
 it was not bayonets they were bearing, 
 but constitutions they were carrying along 
 and hugging. [Vociferous cheering.] I 
 saw them doing a good deal of hugging, 
 these rebels, who were not rebels, but 
 simply “Constitution buggers.” [Re¬ 
 newed cheering.] The boys who are here 
 before me, who were with me at Donel- 
 son, saw some of it there. [Laughter, 
 and cries by soldiers, “ That’s so. We 
 saw them in a good many battles.”] 
 What patri&ts they were, doing so much 
 for the Constitution of our common 
 country!” 
 
 DEMOCRATIC BITTERNESS. 
 
 One thing I have now come to which it 
 is painful to speak about, as it is largely 
 a private matter. So far from being al¬ 
 lowed to leave the Democracy in peace, 
 as I had hoped and expected, with no 
 noise about it, you have seen, many of 
 you here, what has been said and charged 
 against me in the Democratic press. But 
 what you have seen is nothing. In the 
 last ten days I have received scores of 
 letters, most of them anonymous, abus¬ 
 ing me without stint, and charging me 
 with all sorts of crimes. These things, 
 which would annoy any man who had 
 feeling, have simply confirmed me in my 
 estimate of many members of the party 
 I have left, and have simply intensified 
 my conviction that my course was and is 
 right. I can see by these an explanation- 
 of one thing that puzzled me in the ca¬ 
 reer of my old comrade in arms, Gen. 
 John A. Logan. Logan and I were a 
 great deal together in the fore part of the 
 war, and we talked things over as fellow 
 Democrats, and in every respect nearly 
 we agreed. After the close of the war 
 we met again. When I had parted from 
 him he was a Democrat; then he was a 
 Republican and bitterly anti-Democratic. 
 I said to him, “I can understand your 
 course in changing parties, and I cannot 
 blame you much ; but what I cannot un¬ 
 derstand is what makes you so terribly 
 
4 
 
 bitter against the Democrats.” He re¬ 
 plied, “You will never understand till 
 you yourself leave the Democratic party, 
 which day will surely come; but then 
 you will see it plainly enough. You will 
 get all sorts of anonymous, villianous, 
 cowardly letters, charging you with all 
 sorts of crimes, and heaping upon you all 
 sorts of vile abuse.” 
 
 THE REBEL ABUSE OF THE GENERAL. 
 
 I know the public charges made against 
 Logan, and I know personally what atro¬ 
 cious lies many of them were, and I 
 could not conceive that partisan malig¬ 
 nity could go any farther than it went in 
 the coinage of thepa. But now I do see. 
 These letters I have received charge me 
 with being a robber, an incendiary, and 
 a murderer ! These charges they make 
 to described my career and record as a 
 soldier. Can I be blamed, then, in view 
 of such abuse as this, for departing 
 from my resolved purpose of privacy, 
 and publicly hurling back upon their 
 authors all such accusations. When¬ 
 ever you find one of these men charging 
 me with these things, scratch his skin, 
 and you will find a rebel. [Tremendous 
 applause.] Let me refer to some of these 
 charges briefly. I will not be long, al¬ 
 though I find my time far too short for 
 telling it all, and I do not want to weary 
 you. They say I stole cotton and made 
 money by it. It’s a lie. [Applause.] I 
 say it with that word because that is the 
 word. [Great applause.] I captured but 
 two lots of confederate cotton, as it was 
 called—cotton belonging to the rebel 
 government. I turned it over and took 
 duplicate receipts for it—one of which I 
 sent to the Secretary of the Treasury, 
 where it is now, and the other I kept and 
 now have it. I never made a cent in 
 cotton, and never tried to do it. I make 
 short work of these charges, because that 
 is all there is of it. 
 
 THE VICKSBURG SOLDIERS GOLD SPECU¬ 
 LATION. 
 
 They say I speculated in gold while at 
 the head of my command. It’s a fact. 
 [Laughter .] The Wall street brokers 
 were running up the price of gold, spec¬ 
 ulating on the fast increasing perils of 
 the Republic, saying that Vicksburg could 
 not be taken, and that therefore the re¬ 
 bellion wonlcl be victorious. They did 
 not scruple thjus to speculate, even if it 
 was destroying £he Government and help¬ 
 ing the Confederates. Wall street and 
 the rebels were .tojg e th er then, as they are 
 now, [immense applause,] and they bet 
 against us. That w as all there was of it. 
 We knew we could vtake Vicksburg, and 
 knew when it would pe taken before Wall 
 street did, We knew th' e Mississippi would 
 
 go down so that we could land on the 
 rebel side; we had already landed on the 
 other side, and knew that when we did 
 land on their side there would be trouble. 
 So in April we organized together a num¬ 
 ber of our officers, and formed a club— 
 [laughter]—all drew our pay, and got all 
 the money we could. I put in this all 
 my money, and everything that I had, 
 and borrowed every dollar that I could. 
 
 We all put in this money, our pay as 
 soldiers, and made a purse of it, and sent 
 a man to Wall street to sell gold short at 
 seller’s option on ninety days, and put up 
 our money as margins. It was simply a 
 bet on our part that we could take Vicks¬ 
 burg, and that we would do it, and a bet 
 on Wall street’s part that we couldn’t 
 arid wouldn’t. We staked our lives too 
 on top of the bet. We did take Vicks¬ 
 burg. [Great cheering, frequently re¬ 
 peated.] The river went down, and we 
 went in. [Renewed cheers.] We won 
 our bet, and Wall street lost. [Laughter.] 
 We made money—I made money, lots «f 
 it, and I am glad of it. It served a good 
 purpose to the Union, too, as well as to 
 our pockets. It was not known the day 
 our gold was sold whose it was; but the 
 next morning it was announced in the 
 Yew York press that it was the money of 
 the Union officers before Vicksburg. In 
 twenty-four hours gold went down fifteen 
 cents. [Cheers.] Some of the noble men 
 who fell in the capture of Vicksburg were 
 in “the club,” and their families to¬ 
 day are saved from poverty by the profits 
 of this soldiers’ bet with Wall street. 
 [Subdued applause.] You may call it a 
 bet, and morally wrong, if you choose. 
 I am willing to accept the responsibility 
 of it as it is. [Applause.] So I did spec¬ 
 ulate in gold while I was actually at the 
 head of my division, and that one charge 
 is true. [Laughter.] 
 
 THE BURNING OF RICH REBEL HOUSES. 
 
 Another charge is that I am a house 
 burner. The news that I have left the 
 Democratic party seems to have got away 
 down in the old rebel country, and some 
 one down on the Lower Mississippi writes 
 to a St. Louis paper, wondering if I am 
 the General Tuttle whose troops, on the 
 march from Milliken’s Bend to Grand 
 Gulf, burned so many fine houses on Lake 
 St. Joseph, among them the finest resi¬ 
 dence in all the Southern country, that of 
 Col. Bowie, the inventor of the famous 
 Bowie knife. I am the man, [much 
 laughter and applause,] the same General 
 Tuttle who with his boys went along 
 there. Yearly all the houses were biu^ied 
 before my command came up. The Bowie 
 mansion was not. I was in it. It was 
 the grandest house I ever saw or read, 
 
5 
 
 about. The house and furniture are said 
 to have cost $500,000. The upholstering 
 was grand beyond all description. I found 
 a number of Union soldiers in the house, 
 belonging to Steele’s division, 'which was 
 just ahead of mine. They were lounging 
 around in their muddy boots, enjoying 
 the luxuries. I sent them on to their 
 command, and passed on with the head 
 of my division. My command was prob¬ 
 ably five miles long, along the road. 
 After about half of the division had passed, 
 and I was about two or three miles away, 
 I looked back, attracted by an immense 
 blaze, and the Bowie house was gone. 
 
 I suppose it was burned by some of my 
 boys. I do not doubt it. Some of my 
 soldiers—of Iowa regiments, too—were 
 just out of a rebel prison, with all of its 
 tortures fresh in their minds—and this 
 was their first march. They remembered 
 well, and they probably know something 
 about it. Our orders were all against 
 burning the houses. I suppose we could 
 have prevented their burning if we had 
 made it a specialty. [Laughter.] But we 
 had another specialty on hand just then. 
 [Renewed laughter.] This is my record 
 as a house burner. 
 
 THE STEALING- WOOD CHARGE. 
 
 They charge me, too, with stealing 
 wood, and name the amount—twenty 
 cords. The amount is right. [Great 
 laughter.] Philo, there (pointing to Mr. 
 Case, the drummer of the martial band 
 present, sitting at one side, and w r ho was 
 drummer of Company D, of the Second 
 Iowa,) knows about that. Also Air. 
 Moore, sitting there, (pointing to Mr. TV. 
 S. Moore, of the Second,) knows about it 
 too, and was there. Both of you helped 
 load the wood, helped me steal it. [Mr. 
 Case—That’s so, General. The Second 
 Iowa can swear to that.] The circum¬ 
 stances w r ere these: 
 
 I was ordered to take my regiment and 
 proceed to Paducah and join a fleet going 
 up the Tennessee river, to take Fort 
 Henry. At Cairo I learned that Fort 
 Henry w r as taken. My orders were 
 changed to proceed to Smithland and join 
 the fleet going up the Cumberland rive;.* 
 to Fort Done Ison. The officers of the 
 steamboat that I was on with my regiment 
 were bitter rebels, and sought eveiy op¬ 
 portunity to delay us, so that we couldn’t 
 reach there in time. When we arrived at 
 Smithland the fleet had been gone six 
 hours. The captain of the boat said he 
 had no Cumberland river pilot, and 
 couldn’t go up that river. I forced him 
 to go at the point of the bayonet, and 
 placed a file of soldiers in front of the 
 pilot-house, with orders not to allow the 
 captain and pilot to live a minute if any 
 
 accident happened to the boat. [Cheers.] ~ 
 Capt. Mills, of Des Moines, afterward 
 colonel, was officer of the day, and had 
 charge of the squad, and all who know’ 
 that noble man and heroic soldier, know 
 that he would have performed his duty. 
 But we had not been going long till one 
 of my soldiers, who was an old steamboat 
 man, told me that the captain w r as “play¬ 
 ing it on me;” that there wasn’t half a 
 cord of wood on the boat altogether, and 
 that the purpose was to run out of wood 
 at some point beyound the reach of fuel, 
 and so prevent our getting to Fort Donel- 
 son. 
 
 I began to watch forw-ood. [Laughter.] 
 Soon I saw some—this same twenty 
 cords. I ordered the captain to land the 
 boat for the wood. He protested that he 
 didn’t need it—that lie had plenty of it. 
 
 I told him that he could pull ashore or 
 pull hemp. [Laughter.] He landed the 
 boat. [Cheers.] A fussy old rebel was 
 on the spot, the owner of the wood. The 
 captain asked him if he would sell it— 
 with a rebel wink. The owner, of course, 
 said no. I said we would take it with¬ 
 out making a bargain. He said we 
 couldn’t take it. I replied perhaps we 
 couldn’t, but we would try. [Laughter.] 
 We tried, and every man in the regiment, 
 officers and all, were soon loading w r ood, 
 and it was on the boat speedily. Yes, 
 every soldier in the lot helped me to do 
 that stealing. [Laughter.] The owner 
 wanted to know, as we were leaving, 
 who was going to pay him for the wood. 
 
 I told him that I didn’t know, and that 
 all I knew was that we were bound for 
 Fort Donelson, and no rebels were going 
 to stop us on the trip if we could help it. 
 That is the story of the 'wood. [Cheers.] 
 
 I don’t know exactly how much I stole. 
 
 I didn’t ask the price, and didn’t pay for 
 it. But we did get to Fort Donelson, 
 and some of you have heard of the fun 
 that the Second Iowa had there with that 
 lot of Ben Hill’s “ Constitution-huggers.” 
 
 THE SECOND IOWA’S FIRST REBEL FLAG. 
 
 They say I am a murderer. Well I’ll 
 tell you about that. Some anonymous 
 coward has sent me an extract from a 
 paper in Missouri—name of the paper 
 not given, but the piece cut out—charging 
 me with having murdered a man in Stew¬ 
 art, Mo., and with shooting men after 
 they had surrendered. As to the first, 
 that was an incident of our trip, as we 
 first went to the front. The town was 
 on the Hannibal and St. John road. The 
 Second Iowa was the first Union regi¬ 
 ment that made the trip along the whole 
 length of the line. Others bad gone 
 part of the way, but the Second made the 
 whole trip, and were the first Union 
 
I 
 
 6 
 
 troops that the rebels down there had 
 seen. As w r e came up to this little 
 town, a rebel flag was streaming from a 
 pol e in a dooryard. It was the first rag 
 of the Confederacy my boys had seen, 
 and they said it must come down. 
 [Cheers.] I anticipated no trouble, but 
 after the boys w'ent up there I heard some 
 shots, and then I went up. A young 
 rebel had heard of our coming to the 
 town, and had raised the flag, as a defi¬ 
 ance and a menance, and said it should 
 float if he had to protect it with his life. 
 He got a chance. He said, with his re¬ 
 volver drawn, as the boys came up, that 
 the first man who laid hands on that flag 
 he would shoot dead. The boys pro¬ 
 ceeded to take the tiling down—and he 
 got killed. How he w r as killed I don’t 
 know exactly. Plfllo, there, [pointing 
 to Mr. Case again, sitting near by, hold¬ 
 ing the same old drum, that he drummed 
 through the war,] can tell you about that 
 better than I can. 
 
 Mr. Case—The fellow said he would 
 shoot the first man who dared even to 
 touch the flag or the staff, and the boys 
 went for it. He tried to shoot, snap¬ 
 ping his revolver twice. He didn’t get 
 a chance to snap it again. His flag came 
 down, and so did he. [Cheers.] 
 
 The General—Well, that’s the story of 
 it. I didn’t see that part of it. I saw the 
 flag after it was down, though, and saw 
 the foolish young rebel lying there dead. 
 
 That’s all I know about it, and per¬ 
 haps I am responsible. If so, I have 
 nothing to take back. Our business down 
 there was to put down the rebel colors, 
 and of course we commenced as soon as 
 we saw where the work commenced. 
 [Cheers.] The boys, in taking down the 
 rebel’s flag, had to shoot the rebel to do 
 it, and to save their own lives in doing it, 
 and so I am charged with murdering him. 
 
 In having done my duty as a soldier, in 
 my humble and yet earnest and well- 
 meaning way, I am now called, after I 
 have left the Democratic party, a robber, 
 a burner of houses, a murderer !—just as 
 Gen. Logan, honest, noble, true hearted, 
 and patriotic, was so stigmatized after he 
 had left the same party. Do you wonder, 
 gentlemen, that I have been stung into 
 making publicly the remarks that I have 
 here ? I have no abuse to make of any 
 one. I call no one by name. I state 
 simply the general facts, that others may 
 see as well as myself that the war and 
 the hate of the Union soldiers did not die, 
 as the St. Louis platform says, eleven 
 years ago. 
 
 THE ST. LOUIS CONVENTION. 
 
 That convention did not lpok as though 
 treason was an odious thing, nor that 
 
 rebels were ^ the less to be honored 
 than patriots. That gathering proved 
 again what the Democratic House had al¬ 
 ready proved, that the old rebel element 
 is running the Democratic party, and that 
 its whole hope of success is staked on 
 then* solid support. They were all there 
 at St. Louis, and were the lions of the 
 day, especially honored and cheered by 
 the convention, and honored and lionized 
 by the same gangs of rebels who were 
 spouting treason and abusing soldiers 
 there in 1861, as we were going to the 
 front, and who were talking the same 
 treason when I was there two years ago. 
 [Applause.] Why is it that the nomina¬ 
 tion of Tilden has so revived and re-in¬ 
 spired the old rebel element ? Why so 
 much more so than the candidacy of 
 Greeley four years ago, when there was 
 some hope of a new party, and the death 
 for good of the old Democracy? You 
 can answer as well as I can. It looks * 
 like they knew their man. [Applause.] 
 The alarming demonstration daily devel¬ 
 oping in the South would look like it. I 
 see that the Leader interviewed my old 
 friend Peter Myers, now living in Mis¬ 
 souri, to-day, and that Peter says that the 
 stories of raising the rebel flag in Mis¬ 
 souri are untrue. I hope they are; but 
 the reports seem to be well authenticated, 
 and I fear some of them are too true. 
 
 For the people to do these things would 
 be bad, but not so bad, we' must remem¬ 
 ber, as was the rebel speech of Ben. Hill 
 in Congress, so heartily cheered by his 
 Democratic colleagues, and so wildly ap¬ 
 plauded in the South. That speech, let 
 me refer to again a moment. The Demo¬ 
 crats and Democratic press now say they 
 do not indorse this speech. But they 
 cheered it when it was made in the House, 
 and the South cheered it, and their denun¬ 
 ciation of it now is not so much denuncia¬ 
 tion of the spirit of it as of liis imprudence 
 in making it. 
 
 HOOD BYE, DEMOCRACY. 
 
 And now, in conclusion, as to the reason 
 why I have not left the Democratic party 
 sooner. They say I want office, and that 
 I have wanted office. If I had, gentlemen, . 
 
 I would have left the Democratic party 
 years ago, for it is a matter of record that 
 1 have said for years that there was never 
 any hope of the Democrats carrying Iowa. 
 
 If I had been an office-seeker I should have 
 left the old party long ago. I am not a 
 candidate for office, and never vail lie. I 
 have no aspirations for prominence in pol¬ 
 itics, and I do not see why, when as a pri¬ 
 vate ciitizen I have tried to change my 
 party quietly, all this abuse should be 
 heaped upon me. I can stand it, though, 
 and it in nowise changes my conviction as 
 
7 
 
 r"-- r r ~ r-»-.- • t -' i --- 
 
 to my duty, only to intensify and confirm 
 it. [Applause.] 
 
 I feel in earnest now as I did during the 
 war. [Cheers.] I have no retreat to make. 
 [Renewed cheers.] The reason I have left 
 the Democratic party is that I have no 
 faith in it, [cheers,] and no faith in the old 
 rebel element, who I have long feared 
 would come to the front, and who I now 
 know and see have come, and whose 
 coming has made my way clear and my 
 course of duty plain. [Great applause.] 
 Seeing these men again at the head of the 
 party, and seeing the defiance of the men 
 who last held office in the National Gov¬ 
 ernment under the Democratic party, 
 make things plain enough. Among the 
 last Democratic officers of any note were 
 Floyd and Jake Thompson, the Demo¬ 
 cratic Secretary of War and Secretary of 
 the Interior. They stole from the Gov¬ 
 ernment they were sworn to serve, to 
 help the rebellion raised to destroy it, 
 and beside their crimes and their corrup¬ 
 tions, all that is charged against the Re¬ 
 publican officials, admit it all to be true, 
 even, sink into insignificance. 
 
 Why, old Jake Thompson, encouraged 
 by the defiance of Ben. Hill in his speech, 
 went down to Washington a few months 
 ago, and like a braggart demanded inves¬ 
 tigation, pompously saying that he would 
 waive the legal point of time. He went 
 down there blowing, and got sued—for 
 the money that he stole for the rebels. 
 [Great cheering.] If old Floyd were 
 alive, he too, probably, would go down 
 there, under the protection of the rebel 
 shadow of Ben. Hill, and demand inves¬ 
 tigation. [Laughter.] But like the child 
 covered with the curse of the crime against 
 Abraham Lincoln, he also had the good 
 
 sense to die. He wa3 at Fort Donelson 
 with the other “ Constitution-hUggers.” 
 but he skipped out early, so as to be safe. 
 
 If he had stood his ground like a brave 
 man, he would probably have had the 
 good fortune to die earlier. [Laughter.] 
 But he fit out. He could steal for the 
 Confederacy, but he wasn’t willing to die 
 for it. [Laughter.] 
 
 It is his fault, gentlemen, and not mine, 
 that his memory is not to be spoken of 
 with more respect. This Thompson and 
 this Floyd were the last of the Democratic 
 rulers, and they represented the domina¬ 
 tion of the South in the Democracy then. 
 And Thompson and his Mends, and the 
 friends of Floyd, are again pressing to 
 the front to assume party control. As 
 they have come as leaders, I have asked 
 and taken the privilege of leaving the 
 Democratic ranks. [Cheers.] This, fel¬ 
 low citizens, is why I am here to-night. 
 [Renewed cheers.] 
 
 Finally, gentleman, I would say, keep 
 a solid front and we’ll beat them. 
 [Cheers.] I hope and think we will. I 
 am with you, and with you in earnest. 
 [Great cheering.] Close up for the fight. 
 They mean business, and we must. [Ap¬ 
 plause.] It is something of the old fight, 
 only it is to be fought at the ballot-box in¬ 
 stead of on the battle-field. [Renewed 
 applause, frequently repeated.] 
 
 I thank you, gentlemen, for having 
 heard me so patiently. I have not tried 
 to make a speech ; I am not a speaker. I 
 have tried simply to tell you, my neigh¬ 
 bors, why I have changed parties, and at 
 the same time to make brief answer to a 
 few of the many mad and venomous 
 charges which have been made against 
 me because of my act. 
 
 T 
 
 SPEECH OF HON. W. A.WHEELER, 
 
 CANDIDATE FOR VICE PRESIDENT, 
 
 .A.T ST. -A-LB^ILTS, VERMONT 
 
 Republicans of St. Albans : You 
 honor the cause of which I just now am 
 a prominent representative. I was placed 
 in nomination as the Republican nomi¬ 
 nee for Vice-President in the national 
 convention by the action of the States of 
 Vermont and Massachusetts. It is the 
 greatest honor of my life that the Repub¬ 
 licans of these States deem me sufficiently 
 grounded in the Yew England faith Co 
 be one of the representatives of their 
 ideas in the pending canvass. [Applause.] 
 In the matter of my faith I trust they 
 have made no mistake. [Applause.] I 
 believe in New England. I believe in 
 Plymouth Rock. They are convertible 
 
 terms. One of the most gifted of New 
 England women has said that Plymouth 
 Rock is not quartz. It is a perfect stone 
 cut of the mountain without hands, and 
 hands cannot prevent it from becoming a 
 great mountain, filling the whole earth. 
 Every church, every school-house, every 
 town-house from the Atlantic to the Pa¬ 
 cific has Plymouth Rock for its founda¬ 
 tion stone. Wherever freedom aims a 
 musket or raises a standard, or sings a 
 song, or makes a protest, there is Ply¬ 
 mouth Rock. Freedom, the church, the 
 school-house, the town-house, these, my 
 friends, form the very cardinal principles 
 of the Republican party. I have often 
 
t' 
 
 thought and often said that the Common¬ 
 wealth of Vermont composes and illus¬ 
 trates the complete realization of the 
 highest ideal of a Bepublican form of 
 government. Where else can you find 
 such general intelligence, the result of 
 your free popular system of education? 
 Where so much Ifclelity and economy in 
 the administration of State affairs? Where 
 so much respect for the civil rights of each 
 and all the people as in the State of Ver¬ 
 mont ? It is the mission of the Republi¬ 
 can party to confer upon all the people 
 of this country, in all the States and in 
 all the Territories, the inestimable privi¬ 
 leges which you in Vermont enjoy. It is 
 a duty to which, in this Centennial year 
 of our nation, we ought to address our¬ 
 selves with renewed attention and fidel¬ 
 ity. 
 
 I have no purpose here to-night', my 
 friends, to recall the memorable conflict 
 through which this nation has passed, and 
 which made American arms forever illus¬ 
 trious. But let us never lorget the obliga¬ 
 tion resting upon us to secure the results 
 of that great conflict for ourselves and for 
 those who follow after us. Never, my 
 friends, were these obligations more ap¬ 
 parent and imperative than now. We are 
 already engaged in another conflict with 
 the opponents of the party which saved 
 the nation, and which to-day protects its 
 integrity and guards its honor. As in 
 1860, we are once more, my friends, face 
 to face with a united South, with the 
 Democratic party in the North as its sub¬ 
 servient and pliant ally. In every late 
 slave State in the Union where this Con¬ 
 federate party is dominant it claims, and 
 may receive, 130 votes in the Electoral 
 College. It has complete control of the 
 lower House and the balance of power in 
 the Senate. There is not to-day in those 
 late slave States any man holding a prom¬ 
 inent position who was not identified in 
 the great struggle against the Govern¬ 
 ment. Not even in the State of Kentucky 
 can you find a man in any position what¬ 
 ever who was not engaged on the rebel 
 side. This is the condition of the South 
 to-day. I have sat for months during the 
 last winter in Congress by the side of sixty- 
 one men who a few years since, with arms 
 in their hands, were engaged in the at¬ 
 tempt to break up the Government. Now 
 I have heard those men defend the hellish 
 atrocities of Libby, Andersonville, and 
 Salisbury. I have heard Lincoln maligned. 
 I have heard defended the right of a Vir¬ 
 ginia justice of the peace to detain and 
 open the mails of the United States. C’an 
 you tell me where is the difference in the 
 spirit which twenty years ago led Missouri 
 border ruffians into Kansas and which led 
 to the massacre at Hamburg, where a reg¬ 
 
 ■ —' •) ■ ' l f -——flr-tf i -* . —n 1 - ■ T -r' -i ~ 
 
 ularly organized militia company’were first 
 disarmed and then murdered in cold blood 
 in order that the white race might assert 
 their superiority? My official relations 
 have called me during the past two or 
 three years into the Southern States, and 
 I tell you what I know, my friends, of the 
 real feeling of the Southern people regard¬ 
 ing the reconstruction acts. They regard 
 the amendments to the Constitution in 
 reference to slavery, and the laws for the 
 protection of the freedmen, as the French 
 provinces did then- cession to Prussia at 
 the point of the bayonet. 
 
 It is to the South, my friends, with this 
 spirit, and with the Democratic party of 
 the North as its pliant ally, that we are 
 asked to turn over the Government of the 
 United States, with all its powers of leg¬ 
 islation, with all its machinery of taxa¬ 
 tion. No such proposition for audacity 
 has its parallel in the history of the coun¬ 
 try. What is the spirit of the Democratic 
 party ? Do you want to prove what the 
 Democratic party of the North still is? 
 Go to Washington; see fifty soldiers 
 crippled in the service of the Union turned 
 out of the House to make room for as 
 many rebel soldiers. This is the evidence 
 of the spirit of the Northern Democracy. 
 
 My friends, we confront the old issue, 
 you must not underrate the strength of 
 the South and its allies in the North. You 
 ask me if it can be avoided. I tell you 
 yes. It can be avoided in the old way, 
 and in the old way only. You must no t 
 underrate the strength of this alliance. I 
 have a confiding faith that the conscience 
 of the nation will be sufficient^ awak¬ 
 ened to avert this great peril. Under the 
 lead of the gallant Hayes who perilled, 
 his life on the field of battle—a modest 
 man—a plain man—a man who has 
 evinced great ability in his administra¬ 
 tion of affairs of the great State of Ohio— 
 under Hayes the Republican party will 
 again achieve a new triumph. ] Applause.] 
 What shall be your duty in this canvass ? 
 I tell you, freemen of Vermont, What I 
 know—the Democrats are making great 
 efforts to reduce the Republican majority 
 in this State. Will you permit this, friends? 
 [Voices—“No !” No I”] The banner of 
 Vermont was never yet trailed on the 
 battle-field. Let your ballots protect the 
 work so effectually done by your bayo¬ 
 nets at Gettysburg and on many a field of 
 strife. As you value good government, 
 as you value sacrifices of the past, as you 
 hope for the future, let your devotion to 
 the cause of the Union be proved by your 
 ballots on the first Tuesday in November 
 next. May the star which never sets 
 beam with new effulgence to light the 
 other States to victory. [Great and pro¬ 
 longed applause.}