^e amd Bee: 
 
 Dr. John McGregor
 
 LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER
 
 LIFE AND DEEDS 
 
 OF 
 
 Dr. john McGregor, 
 
 INCLUDING SCENES OF HIS CHILDHOOD, ALSO SCENES 
 ON THE BATTLE FIELD OF BULL RUN, AT THE PRIS- 
 ONS IN RICHMOND, CHARLESTON, CASTLE PINCKNEY, 
 COLUMBIA, SALISBURY, ON THE BANKS OF THE JAMES 
 RIVER, HIS ESCAPE, HIS RETURN HOME, THE TRAGI- 
 CAL SCENE ON DYER ST., AND THE HEART-RENDING 
 SCENE AT THE CITY HOTEL IN PROVIDENCE, WHERE 
 HIS EVENTFUL LIFE TERMINATED. 
 
 BY 
 
 JEKEMIAH S. McGREGOK. 
 
 FOSTER : 
 
 PRESS OF FRY BROTHERS. 
 
 188G.
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1880, by 
 
 JEREMIAH S. MCGREGOR, 
 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The life of a public man is a leaf of History. 
 It is a leaf also in which minute facts, and 
 particular causes, and personal transactions, 
 are brought out in such strong relief as to 
 have the effect of a picture taken from the 
 Great World, but viewed as we view small 
 portions of the firmament through telescopic 
 glasses. Such lives are essential elements in 
 the great picture of Humanity in action. We 
 must see the heads of the actors, as well as the 
 great moral of the actions, which together com- 
 pose the drama of human society. 
 
 The life of Dr. John McGregor is such an 
 element in the history of our last war. It 
 cannot be separated from the great struggle
 
 4 PREFACE. 
 
 with the South. Men may take what view 
 they please of him, or the acts in which he 
 was engaged; but some view they must take. 
 Many of his acts were no trifling parts, nor 
 performed in an unimportant period, of Amer- 
 ican progress. They were brilliant points on 
 the battle field of Bull Run. They moved on 
 from that bloody field to those loathsome 
 Southern prisons. They made part in the 
 terrible scenes at Richmond, Charleston, Cas- 
 tle Pinckney, Salisbury, and on the banks of 
 the James River, terminating in a tragical and 
 heart-rending scene on Dyer Street, and at the 
 City Hotel, in the city of Providence. In all 
 these scenes, whether of war or peace, the acts 
 of John McGregor cannot be separated from 
 History. My duty is to place the lineaments 
 of a public character on record, where they 
 may be seen by all observers, and left, undis- 
 figured, to the final judgment of posterity. 
 This duty the writer has undertaken to 
 perform with strict fidelity. The records of
 
 PREFACE. O 
 
 the country, happily, furnish the foundation for 
 most of his statements; the testimony of emi- 
 nent and honorable gentlemen, themselves 
 actors in some of the scenes described, fur- 
 nishes other materials ; and, finally, the papers 
 and narratives of private persons make up an 
 aggregate of facts and evidence amply suffi- 
 cient to satisfy the demands of Truth and 
 Justice. 
 
 These facts the writer has undertaken to 
 compose in a clear method, an easy narrative, 
 and, as far as he has the ability, an agreeable 
 style. Beyond this he does not seek to go. 
 He would neither exaggerate the objects in 
 his picture, nor add a coloring beyond the 
 hues of nature. Xor has he need, for the 
 scenes through which the doctor passed, have 
 interest enough without any distorted figures 
 drawn by the pen of Fancy. In fine, the 
 writer desires to make a volume of authentic 
 and unimpeachable history. It will aid the 
 historian who, in future time, shall wish to fill
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 up his page with the actors and actions of our 
 days. 
 
 The life of a man whose mind was so con- 
 centrated on Surgery, Physical Science, and 
 the art of medicine, is one in which the lover 
 of those sciences cannot fail to take deep inter- 
 est. It is but natural that men will seek to 
 know the origin of one who stood in the fore- 
 most rank with the most noted Surgeons and 
 Physicians of Rhode Island and Connecticut, 
 and the facts of his early life, and of the 
 expanding of his mind. With eager curiosity 
 we look back, and in the sports of his child- 
 hood, in the pursuits and occupations of his 
 youth, we seek the origin and source of all that 
 is noble and exalted in the man, the germ and 
 the bud from which have burst forth the fair 
 fruit and the beautiful flower; and we carefully 
 treasure up each trifling incident and childish 
 expression, in the hope to trace in them some 
 feature of his after greatness. Feeling that 
 the early life of a man like John McGregor,
 
 PREFACE* 7 
 
 and the growth of those feelings and opinions 
 which afterwards embodied themselves in the 
 art of Surgery and Medicine, would be inter- 
 esting to many, we deem it fortunate if we can 
 give even a short sketch of his life. We will 
 give a short account of his parentage, and then 
 content ourselves with a general outline of his 
 after life, so full of striking events and useful 
 labors.
 
 LIFE AND DEEDS 
 
 OF 
 
 dr. john McGregor. 
 
 The grandfather of Dr. John McGregor 
 was one of the lineal descendants of the 
 McGregors of Scotland. He was born in 
 Dundee, Scotland, in 1743, and died in Cov- 
 entry, K. I., in 1820, aged 77. In coming to 
 America, he brought with him little except a 
 liberal education and a thorough * knowledge 
 of military tactics. His knowledge of military 
 tactics made him a desirable acquisition to the 
 ranks of the yeomen of Connecticut, who were 
 vastly ignorant of the first principles of military 
 art and strateary. Here he drilled a larffe 
 
 & J. A ^xv XXV ^xxxxvvi ., ""{->
 
 10 UFK AM) DKKDS OF 
 
 company, in Plainfield, in military tactics and 
 evolutions, and hurried with them to Boston 
 at the first alarm which convulsed the feeble 
 colonics at the prospect of so unequal a strug- 
 gle. He afterward commanded his company 
 at the battle of Bunker Hill, and was in many 
 of the principal engagements during the entire 
 war of the Revolution. He was present at the 
 surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, and was 
 . finally honorably discharged by Washington, 
 at New York, at the end of the Revolution. 
 He was in command of the guard over the 
 lamented Major Andre during his short con- 
 finement, and ever related the incidents attend- 
 ing his trial and execution, with uncontrollable 
 emotion. He married Betsey Shepard, daugh- 
 ter of Simon Shepard, of Plainfield. She was 
 born in Plainfield, Connecticut, in 1757, and 
 died in Coventry, Rhode Island, in 1815, 
 aged 58. 
 
 Col. Jeremiah McGregor, son of John 
 McGregor, and father of Dr. John McGregor, 
 was born in Coventry, Rhode Island, in 1780, 
 and died in Coventry, in 1875, aged 95. He 
 married Elipha Nichols, daughter of Major
 
 DR. JOHN MCGREGOR. 11 
 
 Jonathan Nichols. She was born in Coventry, 
 Rhode Island, in 1784, and died in Coventry, 
 September 9th, 1874, aged 90. 
 
 The late Dr. John McGregor bore the name 
 of his grandfather, and was born in the town 
 of Coventry, Rhode Island, on the 10th day of 
 October, 1820. His earlier years foretokened 
 those of his manhood. Among his neighbors, 
 he was always called a good boy, and among 
 the boys of his age, he was the great favorite. 
 In all their projects, he was the preferred one 
 who was commissioned to carry them forward 
 to their consummation. His early education 
 was only such as our best seminaries afforded 
 at that time. 
 
 We will pass over his boyish days, or until 
 he arrived at the age of sixteen. At this time 
 his character is described by those who well 
 knew him, as distinctly formed. He was full 
 of hope, and animated by a just sense of honor, 
 and a generous ambition of honest fame. His 
 heart was open and kind to all the world, warm 
 with affection toward his friends, and with no 
 idea that he had, or deserved to have, an enemy. 
 It seems that he was intended for one of the
 
 12 LIFE AM) DKKDS OF 
 
 learned professions. In the spring of 1837, we 
 find him engaged as elerk in the store of Ste- 
 phen Taft. At this time, Stephen Taft was 
 one of the largest manufacturers of cotton 
 
 cloth, in the country. His village was situated 
 in the east part of Coventry, where now is 
 located one of the largest and most beautiful 
 cotton manufacturing villages in Rhode Island, 
 called Quidnick. After serving as clerk in 
 the store for about two years, he returned 
 home, and soon after placed himself under the 
 teachings of Andrew Cutler, of Plainfield, 
 Connecticut, then quite a celebrated man. 
 Cutler was a graduate of Brown, Rhode 
 Island, and, at that time, was keeping a High 
 School in Plainfield. After studying one year 
 with Cutler, he occupied his time for the next 
 two years in keeping district schools in differ- 
 ent towns in Rhode Island. 
 
 In 1842, he became a member of the Phenix 
 Baptist Church, at Phenix, R. L; and all 
 through his life he exerted his influence in the 
 furtherance of the cause of Christ. 
 
 At the time the Smithville Seminary opened 
 its doors to the public, he was one of the first
 
 l)i: JOHN Mr(i]!K(;oK. 13 
 
 to enter, lie pursued the usual preparatory 
 
 studies, and graduated in 1843. Smithville 
 Seminary commenced operations October 14th, 
 1840. The members of the Board of Instruction 
 were as follows: Hosea Quinby, A. M., Prin- 
 cipal; Stowell L. Weld, A. M., Associate 
 Principal; Caroline L. Johnson and Ainev M. 
 Baxter, Teachers in the Female Department; 
 Stephen t>. Wmsor, Register and Steward. 
 This institution was located on the Hartford 
 and Providence Turnpike, nine miles west 
 of Providence, in a very pleasant country, and 
 stood on a small eminence commanding a view 
 of a few neat villages, and also three places of 
 worship situated near. 
 
 In 1843 he entered the office of Dr. William 
 Hubbard, of Crompton, Rhode Island, as stu- 
 dent. He continued his studies with Dr. Hub- 
 bard three years, attending medical lectures at 
 the Medical Institution at Xew York, within 
 that time. I shall always remember the first 
 time that he went to Xew York to attend 
 medical lectures. At this time, a number of 
 young students, who were going to Xew York 
 to attend medical lectures, had an understand-
 
 14 LIFE AM) DEEDS <>F 
 
 ing among themselves to meet at McGregor*s 
 old homestead, and go to New York together. 
 In the afternoon previous to the day appointed 
 for them to start for New York, Moses Fifield, 
 Thomas Andrews, William Bennett, Wilbur 
 Rriggs, and John Hill, arrived at the old 
 homestead of Dr. McGregor, and found him 
 making preparations for the journey. The 
 evening was passed mostly in conversation 
 concerning their future plans and prospects. 
 Some one of the party, I think it was Bennett, 
 asked the writer what profession he should 
 choose. In reply, he told him that he thought 
 a certain trade would be as profitable as a 
 profession, and that he thought he should learn 
 that trade. "What trade is that which would 
 be as profitable as our profession?" asked Ben- 
 nett. "Making coffins," answered the writer, 
 'Tor I think that when all of you get through 
 with your studies, and commence to practice, 
 there will be great eall for them." 
 
 That was before the Hartford and Provi- 
 dence Railroad was built, so those young- 
 doctors were conveyed, by carriage, from the 
 old homestead to Central Village, on the Nor-
 
 Dr. JOHN MOGREGOK. 15 
 
 •wich and Worcester Railroad. From there 
 they went, by rail, to Norwich, and from Nor- 
 wich, by steamboat, to New York. Where 
 are those men to-day? Fifield is at Center- 
 ville, Briggs in Providence, their hair as white 
 as the driven snow; and the others are sleeping 
 that long and dreamless sleep, in their graves. 
 Dr. McGregor graduated in 1845, at the 
 Medical University of Ncav York. Soon after, 
 Dr. Wagstaff offered him a situation in the 
 Lying-in Asylum of New York. Dr. Wagstaff 
 had the full control of that institution at that 
 time. Dr. McGregor remained in the institu- 
 tion until 1846, when he returned to his native 
 town. He opened an office at his father's 
 house, and notified the people that he was at 
 their service. The following is the 
 
 i & 
 
 NOTICE. 
 
 Dr. J. McGregor, a graduate of the New 
 York University Medical College, having, for 
 the past eighteen months, enjoyed the facilities 
 for the acquisition of medical knowledge which 
 the New York hospitals, asylums, and dispen- 
 saries present the medical student, feels himself 
 qualified for the discharge of those duties which
 
 H) LIKK AM) !)i:i:i)S OK 
 
 devolve upon a medical practitioner. lie has 
 located himself at his father's house, where he 
 can be consulted at all times, when not profes- 
 sionally absent. 
 
 John McGregor. 
 
 New York Lying-in Asylum, March 22nd. L845. 
 
 I certify that John McGregor, M. I)., of Kent County. Rhode 
 [si and, has been District Physician to this institution forayear 
 past, during which time- he lias attended a Large number of 
 women in confinement, and had charge, in my absence, of the 
 Asylum : in the fulfillment of which duties lie proved himself an 
 attentive and skillful practitioner of the highly important branch 
 of practice. Obstetrics. 
 
 W.m. K. W.u; STAFF. M. I).. 
 
 Resident Physician of New York Lying-in Asylum, member of 
 Parisian Medical Society. Lecturer on Midwifery etc. 
 
 When it was announced that lie was coming 
 home to settle, all the people were pleased, and 
 ready to receive him with outstretched arms. 
 He had been at home but a short time before 
 he had more business than he could attend to. 
 His rides were very long, for there was no 
 doctor within eight miles of him. He had no 
 fear of competition, but those long rides over 
 those large hills, through storms and dark 
 nights, were not very pleasant. His home 
 soon became a hospital, where the blind re-
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 17 
 
 Ceived their sight again, cataracts vanished like 
 the morning dew, hair-lips were remodeled into 
 very respectable looking ones, crooked eyes 
 were straightened, polypuses were removed 
 from the nose; legs which had been drawn up 
 for years were straightened, cancers were 
 removed with the knife, and many other oper- 
 ations were often performed. 
 
 Dr. George Wilcox, of Providence, com- 
 menced the study of medicine with him at this 
 time. Here it was that Dr. Wilcox first dis- 
 sected a human body. 
 
 The ruling motive of McGregor's life, was 
 to become an accomplished surgeon. From 
 his start, all his energies were bent in this 
 direction, and finding a country practice did 
 not afford him the facilities he desired for the 
 prosecution of this branch of his profession, he 
 removed to Phenix. This change was against 
 the wishes of many of his warm and true 
 friends. He did not leave his friends and 
 patients until he had engaged Dr. P. K. 
 Hutchinson, a young physician who had grad- 
 uated with the greatest honors which the 
 medical institutions could bestow, to take his
 
 1.8 LIFE AM) DEEDS OF 
 
 place. Dr. Hutchinson became one of the 
 most eminent physicians in the country. Dr. 
 McGregor moved to Phenix in the fall of 
 1S47. Here he was surrounded by factory 
 villages in all directions. He had previously 
 scanned this section of country, and came to 
 the conclusion, that with his knowledge of 
 surgery, this was the place for him; for hun- 
 dreds, every year, were injured in those 
 mills. Here his expectations were more than 
 realized. He proved himself to be a surgeon 
 and physician of no small merit. Here he 
 gathered around him a host of true and reliable 
 friends. When a man could truly say that 
 such men as Joseph Lawton, Henry I). Brown, 
 Elisha and Thomas Lanphear, Simon H. 
 Greene and family, James B. Arnold, David 
 Pike, William C. Ames, Cyrus and Stephen 
 Harris, and a host of others, were among his 
 true friends, he should be very, very proud. 
 
 The doctor early showed his Scotch blood; 
 that is to say, he had the strong, substantial 
 qualities of character for which the well-trained 
 families of Scotland are remarkable. Ino 
 people are calmer in action, more reverent in
 
 Dr. JOHN McGREGOR. 19 
 
 religious feeling, or surpass them in integrity. 
 
 In July, 1848, he married Emily P. Ames, 
 daughter of William C. Ames, of Phenix, 
 Rhode Island. I will not attempt to describe, in 
 detail, all which transpired concerning him 
 while he was at Phenix; for it is enough for 
 my purpose to say that his practice was very 
 extensive, and that he was very successful in his 
 surgical operations, which were his specialty. 
 
 In 1850 or '51, Dr. Bowen, of Thompson 
 Hill, Connecticut, was summoned by the Angel 
 of Death to the Heavenly Court, beyond the 
 clouds. He was one of the most eminent sur- 
 geons in Connecticut. His practice was very 
 extensive, and he was very successful in oper- 
 ating. The loss to the people was very great. 
 There was a vacancy to be filled. rf Who can 
 till Dr. Bowen's place to the satisfaction of the 
 people? who will dare take his place as sur- 
 geon?" were the sayings of many of his 
 friends. All who know the people of Thomp- 
 son, know that doctors and preachers of the 
 gospel must be first-class, to be patronized by 
 them. After receiving a number of letters 
 from some of the most prominent men in
 
 20 LIFE A XI) DEEDS <>F 
 
 Thompson, soliciting him to come and take the 
 place left vacant by the death of Dr. Bowen, 
 he went and made a thorough examination of 
 everything appertaining to the filling of the 
 
 vacancy. lie was convinced that he could, 
 after a time, fill the place to the satisfaction of 
 Dr. Bowen's friends, and the community at 
 large. After coming to this conclusion, and 
 consulting with his wife and her family, and 
 many of his most intimate friends, he concluded 
 to leave Phenix, and to go to Thompson. It 
 was a. great trial for him to leave Phenix, and 
 his many warm friends; and it was as great a 
 trial to his friends to have him go. He moved 
 to Thompson in 1852, and soon opened an 
 office, and commenced practice. We will drop 
 a vail over the sad hearts which he left at 
 Phenix, and follow him to his new field of 
 operations. 
 
 The wealthy and beautiful little village of 
 Thompson, with all the adornments which 
 wealth can add to make it attractive to the 
 eye, is situated on a gentle eminence which 
 slopes toward the setting sun, terminating in 
 a beautiful valley, with Quinnebaug river
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 21 
 
 glancing and dancing through it; and faced 
 by Woodstock Hill, whose echo sends back 
 the sounds of its clear-toned bells. Such is a 
 glimpse of Thompson Hill. 
 
 Here we find Dr. McGregor, surrounded by 
 the most hopeful prospects. Everything which 
 makes life desirable seemed to be placed before 
 him. Dr. Bowen's friends received him kindly, 
 and his practice soon extended far and near; 
 and ere long he could truly say that his success 
 was far beyond all for which he had ever 
 hoped. At this time, to the beholder, he was 
 in his zenith ; but man's vision does not extend 
 far into the future. We are visitable by many 
 things which make life enjoyable, and also by 
 things which make life almost unendurable. 
 The vicissitudes in this life are many. Ere 
 long the bright blue sky was o'ercast by a cloud 
 which filled his heart with anguish and sorrow. 
 His beloved wife was taken sick, and in 
 March, 1855, her soul passed from earth to 
 that undiscovered country. Then, all was 
 darkness and gloom. His home was desolate, 
 his fairest prospect blasted. Sympathy will 
 often soothe the feelings, but Avill not heal the
 
 •;•; 
 
 LIKE AND DEEDS <)!• 
 
 heart which is lacerated and torn. He knew 
 thai everything which could be done to alle- 
 viate her sufferings, and to defeat the Angel 
 of Death, had been done as far as it was in his 
 power; and he also knew that he must submit 
 to the all-powerful and all-wise (4od. The 
 mortal part of his beloved wife was carefully 
 removed from her home in Thompson, to 
 Phenix, her own native village, and the scenes 
 of her childhood, and there, beside her kindred, 
 laid away to wait the coming- of the Lord. 
 Sadly he returned to his desolate home. 
 
 I will now pass to other scenes. The scenes 
 in this life are ever changing. We see him 
 driving over those lofty hills, and through 
 those fertile valleys, through storms and pleas- 
 ant weather; exposed to the cold in winter, and 
 to the scorching rays of the sun in summer. 
 The many varied and difficult operations which 
 he was called upon to perform, and his uniform 
 success, made for him the reputation of a first- 
 class operator. Windham County had unlim- 
 ited confidence in his abilit} r ; and the suavity 
 of his manners endeared him to every household 
 he ever entered.
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR, 23 
 
 As time passed on, he formed an acquaint- 
 ance with Elizabeth C. Allen, a lady endowed 
 with all the qualities requisite for a physician's 
 wife; and, on January 10th, 1856, they were 
 married. 
 
 I will pass on to 18(51. At this time it could 
 not be denied that the United States was a 
 great nation, although a controversy between 
 the ]STorth and South had grown to an alarm- 
 ing extent. The sympathies of the people were 
 divided between the Northern and Southern 
 parties, on the great question. A war, which 
 so many of the warm spirits of the country 
 looked for, was soon to take place. At this 
 lime the Great Rebellion was inaugurated, 
 and had begun to convulse the land. The 
 tocsin of alarm was sounded, and the notes of 
 preparation were heard from Maine to Louisi- 
 ana. 
 
 On April 12th, 1861, the rebels bombarded 
 Fort Sumter, and caused Anderson to surren- 
 der it into their hands. Then the ]^orth was 
 obliged to take up arms against the South. 
 
 In the controversy of this exciting period, 
 the doctor was, in his opinions and acts, with
 
 24 LIFE AM) DEEDS OF 
 
 the Republican party. He was educated, be- 
 lieved, and acted, according to the political 
 principles of Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 The revolution through which the American 
 nation was to pass, was not a mere local con- 
 vulsion. It was a Avar for the rights of the 
 working class of society, and against the usur- 
 pation of privileged aristocracies. The time 
 had come for a great and decisive struggle 
 between these two parties. 
 
 Three days after the fall of Sumter, President 
 Lincoln issued the memorable proclamation, 
 calling for seventy-five thousand volunteers to 
 defend the national Capital, and, finally, to 
 recover possession of the United States forts, 
 arsenals, and navy yards, which had been taken 
 by the rebels. Previous to issuing that mem- 
 orable proclamation. President Lincoln had 
 done all that mortal man could do, to appease 
 the angry South. He spake to them with voice 
 majestic as the sound of far-off waters, falling 
 into deep abysses. Warning*, chiding-, he 
 spake in this wise: " r Listen to the words of 
 wisdom, listen to the words of warning, from 
 the lips of one that loves you. T have given
 
 t)R. JOHX MCGREGOR. 2.5 
 
 you all the privileges which the Constitution 
 allows you; why then are you not contented? 
 why then will you be rebellious? I am weary 
 of your quarrels, your wranglings and dissen- 
 sions. All your strength is in your union with 
 the North, all your danger is in discord; there- 
 fore be at peace, and as brothers live together. " 
 But they heeded not the warning, heeded not 
 those words of wisdom. 
 
 The greatest excitement was created by that 
 proclamation. The doctor said to all the peo- 
 ple whom he conversed with, upon that matter, 
 fr I cordially concur in every word of that 
 document." The doctor, true to his impulses, 
 was a patriot, stern and inflexible; and the 
 sudden and urgent appeal to arms, stirred him 
 as with the sound of a trumpet. In the morn- 
 ing, after reading, in the morning paper, the 
 full account of the bombardment of Sumter, 
 and the President's proclamation, he said to 
 his friends, ff I feel that I am in debt to my 
 country, and I am ready and willing to dis- 
 charge the obligation." ^oble and high 
 resolve! He immediately wrote to Gov. 
 Buckingham, offering his services to his conn-
 
 26 LIFE A XI) DEEPS OF 
 
 try. Hi* soon received a dispatch from the 
 governor, stating that he was pleased with his 
 offer, and that his services would be gladly 
 accepted, and that he wonld be appointed sur- 
 geon of the third regiment. 
 
 At this time the State Legislature was not 
 in session. Gov. Buckingham, however, had 
 such wide financial relations as enabled him 
 immediately to command the funds for equip- 
 ping the military for the field. Connecticut, I 
 think, may say with honest pride, that no men 
 went into the field, better equipped, or more 
 thoroughly appointed and cared for. 
 
 When a man in the doctor's position, was 
 ready and willing to leave his home, his 
 friends, his large practice, and almost every- 
 thing which makes life desirable, to enter the 
 army, and to be subjected to all the sufferings 
 and hardships of war, others were ready to 
 follow his example. He never would encour- 
 age men to do what he dared not do himself. 
 His motto was, "Men, follow!" He did no 
 more than thousands of others were ready and 
 willing to do, at that time. It is to men who 
 possessed such hearts, that the country owes
 
 T)n. JOHN McGBEGOR. 2i 
 
 a debt of gratitude; for by and through them 
 the country was saved. What would this 
 country be to-day if that terrible wave of rebel- 
 lion had not been broken? It was broken, and 
 thoroughly broken ; but at what a sacrifice ! 
 
 The preparation of the third Connecticut 
 regiment, which was then almost ready to start 
 for Washington, Avas similar to that of other 
 regiments which were at that time preparing 
 for war; and the scene at Dr. McGregor's at 
 the time he left his friends and home, to join 
 his regiment at Hartford, was similar to many 
 other scenes of the same nature, which were 
 taking place in many other sections of the 
 country. The parting scene I will not attempt 
 to describe. I will leave that to the imagina- 
 tion of the reader. It is enough for my purpose 
 to say that the farewell had been spoken, and 
 he was on his way to join his regiment. As 
 the last glimpse of his home and the dear ones 
 vanished from his view, a peculiar pensiveness 
 seized upon his mind. There is an indescrib- 
 able charm that links one to the land of his 
 nativity. As he took the last view of his 
 home, the thousand endearing friends and
 
 28 LIFE AM) DEEDS OF 
 
 objects left behind, rushed upon his mind like 
 an avalanche. Tender emotions swelled his 
 bosom. It was then he set a true estimate on 
 all he had parted with. Then, for a few 
 moments, the interests of the future were lost 
 in the melancholy of the present. Such, no 
 doubt, were his feelings. 
 
 I will not burden the reader with the partic- 
 ulars of the momentous journey from Hartford 
 to Washington. The regiment, on arrival, 
 immediately went into cam]), with the under- 
 standing that a forward movement would take 
 place very soon; for the rebels were massing 
 their forces at Manassas Gap. A full descrip- 
 tion of those tented fields, and the doings of 
 those seventy-five thousand men, previous to 
 the time when the word, rr Forward !" was 
 sounded along the line, would be interesting 
 to the reader; but I do not feel competent to 
 give it. An old soldier, standing on Arlington 
 Heights, and viewing the tented fields, — one 
 who had seen much service in the army, who 
 had fought the Indians all through the Florida 
 war, and who had been in many of the hard 
 fought battles in Mexico, said, as he surveyed
 
 Dr. JOHK McGBEGOR. 29 
 
 those fields, "Those poor boys little know what 
 thev will have to suffer, and to contend with. 
 War is a terrible tiling, only realized by those 
 Ayho fight the battles. I know that those 
 Southerners will fight. I have been with many 
 of them in many hard fought battles. I speak 
 from experience." That old soldier was Gen. 
 Winfield Scott. 
 
 On the 22nd of May, Gen. Butler took com- 
 mand of the department of the South, and made 
 his head-quarters at Fortress Monroe. On the 
 10th of June, occurred the battle of Big Bethel. 
 But a still more serious lesson was to be learned 
 by the people. During this time, the rebels 
 were not idle, but were spreading their field of 
 operation, taking possession of important 
 points, massing their troops at different places, 
 and preparing to make an assault on our Cap- 
 ital. 
 
 The 4th of July dawned with all loveli- 
 ness. But what a scene presented itself to 
 view! The panoramic view, presented to the 
 beholder, as he stood on Arlington Heights, 
 was such as man can never fully describe. As 
 far as the eye could reach, the country was one
 
 IJO LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 vast encampment. An army of seventy-five 
 thousand yonng men, the flower of the North, 
 was preparing for the great straggle. The 
 most noted lawyers had left their courts and 
 clients; the most eminent surgeons and physi- 
 cians had left their patients; cashiers had left 
 their banks; manufacturers had left their 
 mills; farmers had left their farms; clergymen 
 had left their churches ; governors had left their 
 states in other hands; professors of colleges 
 had left their collegians; clerks had left their 
 offices; mechanics had left their shops; and 
 volunteered, as soldiers, to put down rebellion. 
 Such were the men who were tenting before 
 Washington. 
 
 The day soon dawned, when the beholder 
 could plainly see that something uncommon 
 was taking place in that encampment. Staff 
 officers were dashing from head-quarters to 
 head-quarters; the tattoo was beat by the 
 drummer boys; the high notes of the bugle 
 were sounded throughout the encampment; the 
 boys were falling into line; tents were taken 
 down and packed; and everything denoted a 
 departure of the army. Soon the word "For-
 
 bit. JOHN MCGREGOR. 31 
 
 ward!" was sounded along the line; and then 
 came the sound of tramp, tramp, tramp, min- 
 gled with the clatter of the cavalry, and the 
 rumble and jar of the artillery. As the long- 
 line wound itself over the hills and out of sisrht, 
 the burnished guns and other implements of 
 war glistening in that July sun, a sadness 
 enveloped those left at our Capital, who, on 
 bended knees, were asking God to protect 
 those hoys, and to save our country. Then 
 the stillness became almost oppressive. 
 
 With anxious hearts, we waited for news 
 from the front. We received a letter from the 
 doctor, while the army was at Fairfax Court 
 House, and another when it was at Falls 
 Church. That was the last one we received 
 from him, before the battle of Bull Run. His 
 letters were full of hope. He believed that the 
 North was in the right; and he also believed 
 that right would prevail. He was always 
 hopeful, from boyhood. We knew that the 
 two armies were in close proximity to each 
 other; and we also knew that our army was 
 then at the very mouth of the rebels' den. We 
 knew that a terrible battle would soon be
 
 IV2 l AVE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 fought, and we were very anxious to have 
 tidings from our army. Still we watched and 
 prayed. 
 
 On the 19th of July, the telegraph wires 
 fairly trembled, as they conveyed the news to 
 all parts of the country, that the battle had 
 begun. Then, all was excitement, for we were 
 then living between hope and fear. I will 
 leave to the imagination of the reader, the feel- 
 ings of the people, when the news of the battle 
 of Bull Run first reached them. The tale ran 
 thus: "The Northern army is routed, the rebel 
 army victorious. The Connecticut and Rhode 
 Island regiments have suffered fearfully. Slo- 
 cum, Ballon, and many other noted men from 
 Rhode Island, and a large number from Con- 
 necticut, lie dead upon the battle field. The 
 second Rhode Island and the third Connecti- 
 cut are almost annihilated, and Dr. McGregor 
 and many others taken prisoners." 
 
 A true panoramic view of that battle field, at 
 the time when the battle was at its height, 
 would be such as few would care to see. The 
 armies of the North and South had faced each 
 other, and wrestled together, for eight long
 
 Dr.. JTOHK MCGREGOR. 33 
 
 hours, with that desperate courage which 
 Americans only can show. I will give you a 
 short account of that terrible battle which 
 made Bull Run and the plains of Manassas 
 famous for all time. 
 
 The day was bright and beautiful. On the 
 right was the Blue Ridge, and in front were 
 the slopes on the north side of Bull Run, 
 crowned with woods in which our army had 
 early planted its batteries, and all around were 
 eminences on which were posted small but 
 anxious knots of spectators. The hill above 
 Mitchell's Ford is almost entirely bare of trees, 
 and sufficiently high to afford an unobstructed 
 view of the opposite heights. The guns of the 
 enemy, on the opposite hills, were plainly to be 
 seen with the naked eye ; and the heavy clouds 
 of dust, rising above the woods, in front and 
 on either side, indicated the direction in which 
 the heavy columns of the enemy were march- 
 
 ing. 
 
 The night before the battle, it was generally 
 understood that the rebels were gathered in 
 great force, and designed turning our left flank, 
 which rested a few miles above the scene of
 
 3 1 LIFE A XT) DEEDS OF 
 
 Thursday's engagement, at a ford on Bull . 
 Bun, called Stone Bridge. 
 
 Ou Friday, the 19th, Gen. Joseph E. John- 
 ston, who had the command of the army of the 
 Shenandoah, posted at Winchester^ arrived at 
 Manassas Junction with four thousand of his 
 division, to re-enforce Gen. Beaureg'ard. The 
 remainder of his army, with the exception of 
 a sufficient force to hold Winchester, was 
 intended to arrive on Saturday. Gen. Patter- 
 son was ordered to swing around Winchester, 
 and to hold Gen. Johnston in check. The 
 noted Edmund Kuffin, who had against the 
 walls of Fort Sumter fired the first defiant gun, 
 had come to this conflict, with his flowing white 
 locks, and with eighty odd years weighing 
 upon him, to take part in this fight, encoura- 
 ging his young men by his presence and exam- 
 ple. Agile as a youth of sixteen, with rifle on 
 his shoulder, his eyes glistened with excitement 
 as he burned to engage the Yankee invader. 
 It was Gen. Beauregard's purpose to make the 
 attack instead of waiting to receive it, but he 
 preferred at last to let our army take the 
 initiative; perhaps for the reason that Gen.
 
 Dr. JOHX MCGREGOR. 35 
 
 Johnston's division was detained at Winches- 
 ter. Gen. Burnside's brigade was situated 
 on a hill, above the stone bridge, and the 
 Connecticut troops on his left. 
 
 At eleven o'clock our batteries opened fire, 
 witli rifled cannon and shell, on their left, 
 without response. We heard, away to the 
 right, about three miles distant, the heavy 
 booming of cannon, followed immediately by 
 the rattling crack of musketry, the discharges 
 being repeated and continuous, which notified 
 ns that the engagement had commenced in 
 earnest at that point where the battle was to 
 be fought and won. Beauregard and Johnston 
 commanded their main body at Stone Bridge. 
 Gen. Jones's brigade was stationed at Black- 
 burn's Ford. On the east side of the ford, we 
 had tAvo strong batteries in a commanding 
 position. Jones's brigade made an attack on 
 our left flank, but their troops were compelled 
 to retire with heavy loss. All the morning, 
 we had been bombarding Gen. Longstreet's 
 position in his intrenchment on the other side 
 of the run. We pressed then* left flank, for 
 several hours, with terrible effect; but their
 
 36 LIFE AXD DEEDS OF 
 
 men flinched not, until their number had been 
 so diminished by the well aimed and steady 
 volleys, that they were compelled to give way 
 for new regiments. 
 
 At two o'clock, the result hung trembling 
 in the balance. We had lost many of our dis- 
 tinguished officers, and our ranks diminished 
 fearfully. The rebels had lost heavily. Gen- 
 erals Bartow and Bee had been stricken down; 
 Col. Johnson, of the Hampton Legion, had 
 been killed ; Col. Hampton had been wounded ; 
 but there were at hand the fearless generals, 
 Beauregard, Johnson, and Longstreet, to 
 contend with. Our generals were still hope- 
 ful; but the musketry on our side was getting 
 faint; and the great guns of the enemy, 
 unprovoked from our almost exhausted bat- 
 teries, were now but sparely fired. Everything, 
 therefore, indicated another lull ; and it could 
 not be made certain to our minds but that we 
 had really won the victory, after all, and that 
 the last cannonade was but the angry finish of 
 the enemy. 
 
 Suddenly a cry broke from the ranks, rr Look 
 there! Look there!" and, turning their eyes
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 37 
 
 towards Manassas, the whole of our drooping 
 regiments, as well as those who were moving 
 to the rear, saw a sight which none who gazed 
 upon it will forget. A long way up the rise, 
 and issuing from the enemy's extreme left, 
 appeared, slowly debouching into sight, a dense 
 column of infantry, marching with slow and 
 solid step, and looking, at this noiseless dis- 
 tance, like a mirage of ourselves, or the illusion 
 of a panorama. Rod by rod the massive 
 column lengthened, not breaking off at the 
 completion of a regiment, as we had hoped, 
 but still pouring on, and on, and on, till one 
 regiment had lengthened into ten. Even then 
 the stern tide did not pause, for one of its arms 
 turned downward along the far side of the 
 triangle; and the source of the flood, thus 
 relieved, poured forth again, and commenced 
 lining the other in like manner. Still the 
 solemn picture swelled its volume, till the ten 
 regiments had doubled into twenty, and had 
 taken the formation of three sides of a hollow 
 square. Our legions, though beginning to feel 
 the approach of despair, could not take their 
 eyes from the majestic pageant; and, though
 
 38 LIFE AM) DEEDS OF 
 
 experiencing a new necessity, were frozen to 
 the sight. The martial tide flowed on, the 
 lengthening regiments growing into thirty 
 thousand men, with a mass of black cavalry in 
 its center; the whole moving toward us, as the 
 sun danced upon its pomp of bayonets, with 
 the same solemn step. This was Avar, compact, 
 well made, and reasoning war. It was war, 
 too, in all its pomp and glory, as well as in its 
 strength; and w r e at once comprehended we 
 Ave re beaten. 
 
 Gen. Patterson had let Gen. Kirby Smith 
 slip through his fingers, Avith his thirty thou- 
 sand; and the tide of battle turned in their 
 favor by the arrival of Gen. Kirby Smith from 
 Winchester, with his fresh thousands; and our 
 Waterloo was lost. Among the last to turn 
 their faces from the fight they had so gaily 
 sought, Avas the Burnside brigade, which, 
 accompanied by Gov. Sprague and its gallant 
 Brigadier, and headed by its colonels, retired 
 in line of battle with orders to coA r er the retreat. 
 
 As I am not writing a history of the Avar, I 
 will give a description of scenes, only where 
 the doctor Avas one of the actors. The first
 
 Vu. JOHN McaREGOR. 39 
 
 reliable information we received concerning the 
 doctor, after the battle, was by a letter from 
 Alexander Warner, Major of the third Con- 
 necticut regiment. The following is the 
 contents of the letter. 
 
 Camp Keyes, Washington, Aug 1st. 1861. 
 Mr. J. McGregor : 
 
 Dear Sir. 
 
 Your letter came to hand last evening, and 
 I hasten to give you the information yon desire. Your son. 
 Dr. McGregor, was surgeon of our regiment. The morning of 
 July 21st, he went with his regiment to the battle held, and 
 there stopped at a house which was to be used as a hospital for 
 our wounded. He remained there through the day, faithfully 
 attending to his duties. When the retreat was ordered, I rode 
 up to the hospital. The doctor came to the door, all besmeared 
 with blood. I told him that a retreat was ordered, and, for his 
 own safety, lie had better leave at once. He asked me if there 
 was any preparation for removing the wounded men. I told 
 ldm there was not. He then turned and went into the hospital. 
 As he turned, he said. •• Major, I cannot leave the wounded men, 
 and I shall stay with them, and let the result follow." That was 
 the last time I saw him, and 1 did not know what had become 
 of him until, a day or two ago, a prisoner, belonging to the 
 fourth Maine regiment, made his escape from Manassas; and he 
 saw the doctor there, attending to our Mounded men. I have 
 no doubt but that, in due time, the doctor will return to us. I 
 am very happy to be able to give you the above information, as 
 to the whereabouts of your son : and anything I can do for you. 
 in relation to him. I shall be most happy to do. We miss the 
 doctor very much, as he was highly respected by all of our vox-
 
 40 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 iment. I shall see the doctor's wife as soon as 1 get home, and 
 ifive her all the particulars. If there is anything I can do for 
 you, in any way, please let me know. 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Alexander Warner, 
 
 Major of the third Connect icnl regiment. 
 
 The part of his history while he was a pris- 
 oner in the rebels' hands, and the account of 
 his sufferings while in those loathsome prisons, 
 and of the many scenes in which he was one 
 of the actors, are written from a description 
 which he gave himself. His account of his 
 imprisonment, his trials, his sufferings, and of 
 some of the blood-curdling deeds which he 
 saw done, is as follows. 
 
 First, after our army was ordered to retreat, 
 many of our regiments passed within view of 
 my hospital. It was a lonesome time for me, 
 I assure you. Seeing our army retreating, and 
 knowing that very soon I should be surrounded 
 and taken prisoner by those rebels whom I 
 despised, was not very pleasant, to say the 
 least of it. Very soon I could hear the rebels 
 shouting, " Victory !" and soon on they came, 
 more like demons from the infernal refifions
 
 DR JOUST MCGREGOR. 41 
 
 than civilized men. Abont this time the 69th 
 Xew York regiment, a regiment of Zouaves, 
 commanded by Col. Michael Corcoran, came 
 marching along, all in good order; but you 
 could see by their movements that they were 
 terribly disappointed. You could also see, 
 that if they were obliged to retreat, they would 
 not run like a flock of frightened sheep, but 
 would retreat like men who had been trained 
 to obey orders. 
 
 On came the howling rebels, flush with vic- 
 tory. Soon that noted Black Horse cavalry 
 came rushing down upon these Zouaves. It 
 Avas the most splendid company of horsemen 
 I ever saw. Every horse was as black as the 
 raven's wings. Every man showed that he 
 had been trained by a master of no small intel- 
 lect. They were armed to the teeth; and their 
 horses were beautifully caparisoned. I learned 
 afterward that that company was composed of 
 rich men's sons, and it was really the flower 
 of the South. 
 
 The 69th, on going on to the battle field, had 
 disrobed themselves of everything except their 
 pants and fighting utensils, which made them
 
 4r'2 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 look rather peculiar. They, also, were armed 
 to the teeth, and as no other regiment was 
 armed. I remember how those long saber-bay- 
 onets glistened. I knew those men knew how 
 to use them, as well as those long sheath knives 
 which they earned in their girdles. I had seen 
 that regiment go through with their peculiar 
 drill, and I knew that whatever company 
 attacked that regiment would suffer. The 
 09th was composed of men selected for that 
 particular regiment. They were the worst 
 men that could he found in the city of .Xew 
 York. At least, such was their reputation. 
 They were allowed to fight according to their 
 own peculiar way. 
 
 When I saw that splendid company of cav- 
 alry swooping down upon that regiment of 
 Zouaves, I knew that there would he a terrible 
 battle. Instead of forming a square, as most 
 regiments would have done, to protect them- 
 selves from the charge which that company 
 of cavalry was soon to make upon them, they 
 opened ranks and let those horsemen ride right 
 in among them. Then came a scene which 
 can never he fullv described. Then those
 
 Dn. JOHX McGEEGOR. 4:3 
 
 Zouaves showed their peculiar mode of fight- 
 ing. Within two minutes, the two regiments 
 were all mixed up, each man fighting on his 
 own hook. This was just what those Zouaves 
 wanted. They had been brought up in just 
 such scones. They had been drilled in that 
 mode of fighting. They were in their glory 
 now. Now was the time when those knives 
 became useful. Horses went down as by mag- 
 ic; riders were unseated for the last time. In 
 less than twenty minutes, the ground was cov- 
 ered with the dead and dying, — men and 
 horses in one promiscuous heap. 
 
 THE BLACK HORSE CAVALRY. 
 
 We waited for their coming beside that craggy run. 
 And gaily shone their trappings and glistened in the sun. 
 We saw the well kept horses and marked the stalwart men. 
 And each' Zouave his long knife took and tried the charge again. 
 
 On, on they came in elose set ranks; (), 'twas a goodly sight ! 
 Their horses shone like ebony, their arms were burnished bright. 
 A breathless silence; then there came a ringing down the van, 
 "Lie low ! Remember Ellsworth ! Let each one pick his man." 
 
 A thousand rifle flashes; then shrieks and groans of pain, 
 While clouds of dust uprising over the fatal plain,
 
 14 LIFE AXI) DEEDS OF 
 
 While the gleaming bayonets seemed like the lightning's Hash. 
 A cry, "Remember Ellsworth!" and the deadly forward dash. 
 
 Silence; — horses riderless and scouring from the fray. 
 While here and there a trooper spurs his worn steed away. 
 The smoke dispels — the dust blows off — subsides the fatal stir. 
 Virginia's Black Horse Cavalry are with the things that were. 
 
 A wailing on the sunny slopes along the Shenandoah ; 
 A weeping where the York and James' deep rolling torrents pour : 
 Where Rappahannock peaceful glides on many a fertile plain, 
 A cry of anguish for the loved who ne'er may come again. 
 
 The widow clasps the fatherless in silent, speechless grief, 
 Or weeps as if in flood of tears the soul could And relief. 
 The Old Dominion weeps, and mourns full many a gallant son 
 Who sleeps upon that fatal held beside that craggy run. 
 
 () matrons of Virginia! with you has been the blame. 
 
 It was for you to bend the twig before its ripeness came ; 
 
 For you a patriot love to form, a loyal mind to nurse; 
 
 Yet ye have left your task undone, and now ye feel the curse. 
 
 Think ye Virginia can stand and bar the onward way 
 Of Freedom in her glorious march, and conquer in the fray? 
 Have you so soon the truths forgot which Washington let fall, 
 To cherish Freedom ever, and Union above all? 
 
 Go to ! for thou art fallen, and lost thy high estate, — 
 Forgotten all thy glories ; ignoble be thy fate ! 
 Yet from the past's experience a lesson may be won : 
 Though all thy fields be steeped -in blood, still Freedom's march 
 is on.
 
 DR. JOHN MCGREGOR. 45 
 
 The South was, on that day, taught a lesson 
 which they never will forget. Col. Corcoran, 
 and most of the living Zouaves, were taken 
 prisoners. Months after, I had a chance to 
 study his character. I was in the same prisons 
 with him, and shared the insults and privations 
 of the necessaries of life, while in those prisons. 
 
 Soon after that fight between the Black 
 Horse cavalry and the Zouaves, my hospital 
 was surrounded, and we were all taken pris- 
 oners. A strong guard was placed around, and 
 then I realized the value of freedom. At the 
 time that Major Warner rode up to inform me 
 tli at a retreat was ordered, Lafayette Foster, 
 United States senator from Connecticut, was 
 in my hospital. He had been helping me nearly 
 all day. When he heard me say that I should 
 
 %j %J 
 
 not leave those men, he turned to me, and said, 
 K Doctor, what shall I do, go or stay?" I 
 advised him to leave immediately, for I did not 
 consider that it was his duty to stay. He 
 shook hands with me, and said, rp Doctor, be 
 hopeful. Good by." He was the last man 
 whom I spoke with from the North, except the 
 prisoners, for many months. Night came on.
 
 46 LTFE AXD DKKDS OF 
 
 I watched over those poor wounded men all 
 night, doing* what I could to relieve their suf- 
 fering. Before morning, a number of them 
 had passed from earth. I did not once think 
 that our army would retreat so far. I expected, 
 that the battle would be renewed on the next 
 day. How anxious I was to hear the booming 
 of our Northern cannon once more ; but when 
 the next day closed, and no sound save the 
 groans of the wounded and the jeers of the 
 rebels, I felt as if all was lost. I will mention 
 a few incidents which occurred while I was at 
 that hospital, and then I will pass to other fields 
 and other scenes. 
 
 An officer belonging to the regiment of 
 Zouaves known as the Ellsworth Zouaves, was 
 brought into my hospital. (The reader will 
 remember Col. Ellsworth was shot in a hotel 
 at Alexandria, by the proprietor of the hotel, 
 named Jackson.) This Zouave officer was 
 mortally wounded, and, on the following clay, 
 he died. Soon after his death, a man, or rather 
 something in shape of a man, came into the 
 hospital. I learned afterward that his name 
 was Jackson, and that he was brother to the
 
 Du. JOHN MCGREGOR. 47 
 
 one who shot Col. Ellsworth. Seeing that 
 Zouave lying there helpless and dead, he 
 walked up to where he lay, took hold of his 
 hand, and, while he was looking at him, discov- 
 ered a ring upon his finger. He instantly 
 recognized that ring. It was a ring given to 
 this Zouave by a beautiful girl in Alexandria, 
 as a parting gift. He no doubt had promised 
 to wear that ring as long as he lived, and he 
 had kept his word. Jackson had offered him- 
 self to the same girl, and had been refused. 
 Xow was the time for revenge. Before he 
 could be stopped, he had severed that finger 
 from the hand ; and, as he fled, he was heard 
 to say, K I will carry this ring back to the giver, 
 and tell her that I have had my revenge." T 
 was unarmed, and in one sense helpless; and 
 I am now glad that I was, for my hands arc 
 not stained with that man's blood. 
 
 I will mention one other incident before I 
 leave the hospital, and I do it to show how 
 strongly a horse will sometimes become at- 
 tached to his master. An officer was brought 
 into the hospital, the next morning, in a dying 
 condition. His horse was also wounded, but
 
 IS LIFE A XI) DKEDS OF 
 
 was standing. beside his master when the offi- 
 cer was discovered. The horse followed them 
 to the hospital, and hung around all day. The 
 officer was buried, the next day, not far from 
 the hospital. The horse seemed to know that 
 it was his master whom they buried, for he 
 stayed by that grave as long as I stayed at the 
 hospital. I dressed his wound and did every- 
 thing I could for the poor horse. It was 
 distressing to see that horse walking or paw- 
 ing, and occasionally neighing, around his 
 master's grave. What became of him I know 
 not. 
 
 On the 25th of July, I had the pleasure of 
 meeting Gen. Beauregard. He told me that 
 I was to go to Richmond with the rest of the 
 prisoners', and after the wounded recovered so 
 that they would not need my assistance, I 
 should be exchanged. But when that time 
 came, Gen. Beauregard was leading his army 
 on other battle fields ; and I never saw or heard 
 from him, after I was placed under the control 
 of the most heartless men that the sun ever 
 shone upon. 
 
 I never shall forget our journey to Rich-
 
 Dn. JOHN MCGREGOK. 49 
 
 mond. The wounded suffered terribly. At 
 places where the train stopped, the wounded 
 would beg for water, but they were almost 
 always refused. They were insulted in every 
 conceivable way. The engineer would pull 
 the throttle out and start the train very sud- 
 denly, then reverse the steam and stop per- 
 fectly still, then start again, and continue 
 starting and stopping for a long time, on pur- 
 pose to annoy those poor wounded men. All 
 the while, the crowd which had gathered about 
 the depot would be shouting, "Give it to them." 
 
 We at last arrived at Richmond. I had got 
 there sooner than I expected, when I left my 
 home, and I had arrived there under different 
 circumstances from what I had ever antici- 
 pated. We were huddled into a large brick 
 building, and a strong guard was placed around 
 us. We soon found out that the building had 
 been used for a tobacco factory. The most of 
 us could endure the strong smell of tobacco, 
 but before we got out, we found that the disa- 
 greeable scent of tobacco was a little part of 
 what we had to endure. 
 
 While at Richmond, I became intimately
 
 50 LIFE AND DKKDS OF 
 
 acquainted with Michael Corcoran, colonel of 
 the 69th, and for months after had a good 
 chance to study his character. While at 
 Richmond, an occurrence took place which 
 proved very much to my disadvantage. A 
 number of the prisoners escaped from the 
 prison. Soon after, I was summoned to appear 
 before the body of men who, it seemed, had 
 charge of the prison. I was questioned con- 
 cerning those men who had escaped. I was 
 asked, among other questions, if I knew that 
 those men were calculating to escape. I told 
 them that I did know that they intended to 
 make the attempt. They asked me why I did 
 
 not inform them of the fact. My answer dis- 
 pleased them very much, and I could plainly 
 
 see that my doom was sealed. By some means 
 
 or other, they had also taken a dislike to Col. 
 
 Corcoran. We always expressed our opinions 
 
 upon all subjects, when asked, but time proved 
 
 that we had to suffer on account of our honest 
 
 opinions. 
 
 We were soon sent to Charleston jail. 
 
 Charleston is situated on a tongue of land 
 
 formed by the junction of Cooper and Ashley
 
 Dr. JOHX MCGREGOR. 51 
 
 rivers, which communicate with the ocean 
 seven miles below. The plan of the city is 
 regular, its streets crossing each other at right 
 angles. The harbor is guarded by Fort Sum- 
 ter, at the entrance. Fort Sumter stands on a 
 little island, about four miles from the city. 
 Fort Moultrie and Castle Pinckney also guard 
 the city. The journey from Richmond to 
 Charleston was a dreary one. If I am any 
 judge, the country is very poor in many 
 respects. The negroes lived in huts; and 
 their masters lived in houses, which were set 
 upon posts five or six feet from the ground. In 
 many places the hogsty was underneath the 
 house. When we arrived at the jail, we were 
 received by the jailer, and conducted to our 
 cells. 
 
 We arrived in Charleston soon after the 
 North had taken a crew who called themselves 
 privateers. The North called them pirates. 
 We expected that the North would hang every 
 one of them, and expressed ourselves accord- 
 ingly. We were not long in our new quarters 
 before we were called upon by some of the 
 dignitaries of Charleston. At first, they
 
 52 LIFE AM) DEEDS OF 
 
 seemed pleased to form our acquaintance, and 
 
 said that they would do all they could to make 
 our visit pleasant. Very soon, one of the party 
 went to a window, and called our attention to 
 an object which was in the prison yard. On 
 looking out, we saw the same number of ropes 
 suspended, with loops at the ends, that there 
 were of the pirates which the Xorth had just 
 taken. Turning to us, with a leer such as none 
 but a Southerner can express, he said, rr Gentle- 
 men, if your Xorthern friends hang those 
 privateers, just so many of you will hang 
 there." Col. Corcoran straightened himself 
 up, and, with defiance flashing in his eyes, made 
 this reply:*" We all realize that we are in your 
 power, at present, and we know that you can 
 do with us as you please. It is the duty of the 
 North to hang those men, and I hope that they 
 will not shirk their duty." And many of the 
 prisoners said, fr Amen !" Those brazen faced 
 men soon left the cell, and we saw them no 
 more. 
 
 While at Richmond, we had food enough, 
 such as it was, but now it was very scant. The 
 prison was very filthy, and well stocked with
 
 t)K. JOHN MCGREGOR. 53 
 
 vermin. Our Bufferings were intensified. We 
 now disposed of everything of any value which 
 we had, exeept the dirty clothes which we had 
 on our backs, to procure food and medicine. 
 'What will come next?" was the question often 
 asked, hut seldom answered. Still we were 
 hopeful. 
 
 The jail was a large brick building on Broad 
 street. We were confined in an upper room, 
 the windows of which were barred, and closed 
 with iron shutters, except one very small one, 
 overlooking a very narrow street in the rear of 
 the building. One night we heard the cry of 
 "Fire! Fire!" and our prison cell, for the first 
 time since we arrived, was illuminated. As 
 nearly as we could judge, the fire broke out in 
 a gas house, next door to a sash and blind 
 factory. The fire spread with great rapidity. 
 Great efforts were made to extinguish it, with- 
 out the slightest effect. The engines, worked 
 by negroes, seemed utterly powerless, and the 
 flames spread, finally, to the jail. The roof 
 soon took fire. Xo movement was made to let 
 the prisoners out. We could hear the guards 
 making the doors more secure. At first we
 
 54 LIFE A XI) DEEDS OF 
 
 were not alarmed, for we expected, in case the 
 fire should reach the jail, we should be lei out; 
 but when we heard the cry, "The jail is on 
 fire!" and heard the guards making the door 
 more secure, we were dismayed. At that time 1 
 our room was so filled with smoke that we 
 expected very soon to be suffocated. We 
 formed ourselves into a circle and commenced 
 marching around, and as we passed by the 
 window we would take a breath and then pass 
 on. The heat was becoming intense; but at 
 last the fire was subdued and we were saved, 
 for what purpose we knew not. At this time 
 our allowance of food was one pint of oatmeal 
 and one quart of stagnant water a day. 
 
 Soon after the fire, we were removed to 
 Castle Pinckney, where our sufferings were 
 beyond description. [The author would at- 
 tempt to give a partial description, but he 
 knows that some of the doctor's relatives would 
 say, fr Please forbear."] 
 
 After a while, we were removed from Castle 
 Pinckney to Columbia. Columbia is pleasantly 
 situated near the center of the state, at the 
 confluence of Broad and Saluda rivers, which,
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 55 
 
 when united, form the Congaree. I think that 
 the rebels were afraid that we might be rescued, 
 was why they removed us to an inland prison. 
 
 You would be surprised to know how much 
 news we gathered while we were in those pris- 
 ons. Our eyes and ears were constantly 
 open, and we were constantly on the alert. 
 "We caught every sound within our hearing, 
 and everything which passed within our vision 
 was thoroughly scanned. "We gathered a 
 great deal of information by hearing the boys 
 and negroes talking in the streets. 
 
 One more incident I must not omit concern- 
 ing our prospects while we were in Charleston. 
 One morning, while we were in Charleston 
 jail, an old man made his appearance at the pris- 
 on, and asked permission to see Col. Corcoran. 
 At first he was refused, but after a consultation 
 with the prison officials, he was admitted. He 
 was a man of medium height, with gray hair, 
 and large dark eyes. His general appearance 
 denoted that he was no ordinary man. What 
 his business was with Col. Corcoran, we could 
 not conjecture. They had an interview in one 
 cornei- of our cell, and we could see by the
 
 .">() LIFE AM) DEEDS OF 
 
 colonel's manner, that this man was not an 
 enemy. After his departure, Col. Corcoran, 
 with tears glistening in his eyes, turned to us 
 and said, "Comrades, we have a friend who 
 has power to enter our cell." And we all, as 
 if in concert, said, " Bless the Lord!" He was 
 a Catholic priest of high standing'. He followed 
 ns to Columbia, and through him the colonel 
 obtained money, medicine, and clothing. If it 
 had not been for that old priest, Ave could not 
 have lived. After we left Columbia, we saw 
 him no more. God bless that old man! He 
 will receive his reward after he has passed 
 through the pearly gates of heaven. 
 
 Our suffering, while at Columbia, was not so 
 great as it was at Charleston. We had more 
 and better food, and the prison officials seemed 
 to be a little more humane. By catching a 
 word here and a word there, we kept better 
 posted than any one would think it possible 
 for us to do. Nothing transpired while we 
 were at Columbia worth relating. It was 
 about the same old prison life. 
 
 We were removed from Columbia back to 
 Richmond. This was in the spring of 1862.
 
 Dr. JOHN McOREGOR. 57 
 
 I found Richmond prison about the same as 
 when I left it, only more filthy. From what 
 we could learn, we concluded that the TsTorth 
 was still hopeful, and determined to put down 
 the rebellion, at whatever sacrifice it might 
 cost. At that time I was very much broken 
 down. 
 
 I was removed from Richmond to Salisbury. 
 At that prison the prisoners suffered fearfully. 
 Food was very scarce, and disease was sending 
 many of the prisoners out of hearing of the 
 clamor of men. The prisoners at Salisbury 
 were confined in an open lot, or more strictly 
 speaking, in an open pen. This pen was sur- 
 rounded by a board fence, and the prisoners 
 were guarded by men of the lowest type of 
 humanity. The poor prisoners did not need 
 much guarding, for most of them were so fee- 
 ble and emaciated that they could not have 
 escaped if they could have had a chance. 
 They were exposed to all kinds of weather, 
 most of them without shelter of any kind. 
 Many dug holes to crawl into to protect 
 themselves from the scorching sun in sum- 
 mer, or the cold storms in winter. Food and
 
 58 l AVE AM) DKKDS OK 
 
 water were of the poorest kind. All the water 
 they had was taken from a sluggish pool 
 which was in one corner of the pen, mingled 
 with all kinds of filth, and surrounded with the 
 miasma of death. Oh, that prison pen at Sal- 
 isbury! We not only had to endnre the fam- 
 ine and the fever, but the fiendish looking 
 eyes of those rebels glared at ns. Such is a 
 passing glimpse of the prison yard at Salis- 
 bury. 
 
 At this time all hopes of ever seeing my 
 friends or home again had almost vanished. I 
 had not heard one word from my wife or any 
 of my friends, since I was taken prisoner. I 
 knew that my friends would do all that mortal 
 friends could do for me. I also knew that my 
 w r ife would be almost insane, and that my poor 
 old father and mother would suffer terribly on 
 account of my being where they could not 
 know how I was faring, but I was glad they 
 could not. I knew that all avenues through 
 which my friends could reach me, were securely 
 closed. I was sure that I could not live much 
 longer under such treatment. Despondency 
 was strongly affecting my mind. I would turn
 
 DR. JOITN" MCGREGOR. 59 
 
 my mind homeward, and hope that the founda- 
 tion of our national power still stood strong. 
 I had great confidence in the ability of our 
 government, and I felt assured that, sooner or 
 later, rebellion would be put down. Often, on 
 bended knees, I would ask God to save our 
 country, and to spare my life until rebellion 
 was wiped from our land. 
 
 At last, I was taken from the prison pen at 
 Salisbury, and left upon the banks of the James 
 river, completely destitute. For what purpose 
 I was left there, in that condition, I can assign 
 but one reason, and that is that they left me 
 there to die. I took a survey of my situation, 
 and while doing so, these words flashed 
 through my mind; "Hope on, hope ever." I 
 was without food, and my wardrobe I will not 
 attempt to describe. I had often read about 
 Elijah being fed by the ravens. Would they 
 feed me? Just as the sun was sinking behind 
 the western hills, I discovered an old negro 
 stealthily approaching me. Was he friend or 
 foe? That was the question which ran through 
 my mind. As he came near, I discovered that 
 he had a basket in his hand, and that he Avas
 
 60 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 constantly scanning the country in every direc- 
 tion, as if he was about to do something which 
 he wished to keep secret. Just before he got 
 to where I was standing, he stopped, and 
 looked in every direction. After convincing 
 himself that there was no one in sight of us, 
 he approached me. Setting the basket down, 
 he said, rf This will keep mas'r alive ; best I got." 
 He turned and was soon out of sight. The 
 raven had come. The basket contained what 
 those negroes call hoe cakes. I ate a good 
 supper, and laid myself down to rest. I slept 
 the best that night I had for months. The 
 next morning I felt refreshed. Everything 
 was still, and that was something new to me. 
 The food seemed to strengthen me. I felt like 
 a new man. The next day, my mind was occu- 
 pied with different plans concerning how I 
 should cross the river; but before my plans 
 were consummated, I discovered a steamer 
 coming up the river. It was coming very 
 slowly, and to all appearance was out recon- 
 noitering. I could see that the men were 
 scanning the banks of the river. I was soon 
 convinced that it was a Northern steamer.
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 61 
 
 The following lines had been running through 
 my mind all that day. 
 
 Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom. 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home ; 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 
 Keep Thou my feet ! I do not care to see 
 The former scenes; O banish them from me ! 
 
 As the steamer slowly moved Tip the river, 
 something seemed to say, "Now is the time for 
 yon to make an exertion." I at once began to 
 do everything which I could to attract their 
 attention. Soon I was overjoyed to see the 
 steamer stop. I could see that they were low- 
 ering a boat, and soon I saw them pulling for 
 the shore. At first they thought that I was 
 placed there as a decoy to entrap them; but 
 after the captain had viewed me through his 
 glass, he thought otherwise, and ordered his 
 men to come and see what I wanted. I told 
 those men that 1 had been a prisoner a long- 
 time, and wished to get once more within the 
 Union lines. They took me to the steamer, 
 and I once more stood beneath our starrv
 
 ()2 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 banner, free. 
 
 I had come out of those loathsome prisons 
 as people generally do who are imprisoned for 
 conscience' sake, more devoted than ever to the 
 cause for which I suffered. I was kindly 
 received by all on board of the steamer, and 
 everything done for me which could be done 
 to make me comfortable. The captain, seeing 
 my feeble condition, ordered all the officers 
 and crew not to annoy me by asking questions. 
 I told the captain my name, and that I was 
 surgeon of the third Connecticut regiment. 
 He told me that he had often heard me spoken 
 of by many noted men. My filthy wardrobe 
 was exchanged for one more comfortable and 
 better adapted to my station. My hair was 
 cut and I was thoroughly shampooed, and ere 
 long I was on my way to Washington. 
 
 As soon as I arrived in Washington, I was 
 taken to a hotel and had a long interview with 
 many of the dignitaries. Afterward I had an 
 interview with the President and Secretary 
 Stanton. At that time all the reliable infor- 
 mation which could be gathered concerning the 
 rebels'' movements, was highly prized. I was
 
 Dr. JOHN McGOREGOB. 63 
 
 constantly surrounded by reporters, but after 
 I had given the President and Secretary Stan- 
 ton all the information which I could concern- 
 ing the South, I closed the doors upon the 
 reporters. The newspaper men and the tele- 
 graph companies were posting their patrons 
 with all the news which they could glean from 
 every source. It was not strange that the 
 people were anxious to learn all they could 
 concerning the war, for there was hardly a 
 family but what had relatives in our army. 
 Still it was very important to keep some of the 
 information which was procured by our leading 
 men concerning the rebels' movements out of 
 the papers, for the rebels would, in spite of all 
 we could do, get hold of our newspapers and 
 be much benefited. 
 
 Long before I reached Washington, the 
 particulars of my escape were published in the 
 papers and the telegraph wires had carried 
 them to the remotest parts of the North. My 
 friends at Thompson and other places had 
 heard the vibrations as the wires carried the 
 glad tidings with lightning speed throughout 
 the countrv.
 
 ()4 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 As soon as Gol. Corcoran heard that the 
 
 doctor was once more in the land of the free, 
 lie hastened to meet him. They met at 
 Washington, and such a meeting is not often 
 seen. When first they met, they clasped hands 
 and with bowed heads offered up thanks to 
 God for their deliverance. For a long' time 
 neither coidd speak. Probably the trials and 
 sufferings which they had endurecr together 
 while in those Southern prisons, flashed 
 through their minds. One of the party who 
 came on with Col. Corcoran to escort the doc- 
 tor to New York, said, rf I have seen Corcoran 
 when the chances for his life Avere not one 
 in ten thousand, and where the earth was 
 strewn with the dead and dying, but I never 
 saw him affected as he was at that meeting." 
 Corcoran and his party did everything in their 
 power to make the journey from Washington 
 to New York pleasant for the doctor. 
 
 His stay in New York was very short, for 
 he was very anxious to meet the loved ones at 
 home. As he neared his home, no doubt his 
 heart swelled with emotion, foi* there would be
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 65 
 
 a scene as trying to the nerves as any which 
 he had passed through. It was his wish to 
 return in a very quiet manner. He delayed 
 his coming on purpose to take his friends by 
 surprise. They expected him in the morning, 
 hnt he did not come until evening. They were 
 not disposed to have him surprise them in his 
 coming. When he arrived at Thompson depot, 
 a carriage stood waiting to take him to his 
 home. As they drove from the depot, he 
 thought his wish was to be granted. It was 
 evening and quite dark. He had questioned 
 the driver on many points, hnt the driver 
 seemed disposed not to be very talkative. 
 Afterward he learned the reason why the 
 driver was so mute. As he entered the vil- 
 lage, the bells in the steeples commenced 
 ringing out the glad tidings, and at the same 
 moment many familiar voices broke the still- 
 ness of the evening by singing one of his 
 favorite hymns, ff Home again, home again. 1 ' 
 He then discovered that he was surrounded by 
 the village people, who had turned out in a 
 mass to receive him. He was then escorted 
 to his home, the multitude dispersed in a quiet
 
 ()() LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 manner, and he was left to enjoy once more 
 the presence of his family friends. He arrived 
 home on Saturday evening, August 3d, 1862. 
 The next day he escorted to church, to all 
 appearance, one of the happiest women on 
 earth. The scene at the church after the 
 services were closed, can hetter he imagined 
 than described. The congregation encircled 
 him, and all were eager to press his hand onee 
 more. For days his home was thronged with 
 friends from far and near, all anxious to hear 
 him relate his experience while he was in those 
 Southern prisons. 
 
 At times he was almost afraid that he would 
 become demented. His experience in the four- 
 teen months seemed more like a horrid dream 
 than a reality; but as time passed on, his flesh 
 and strength returned, his mind became more 
 clear, and he was ready to go at them again. 
 He could not endure the hardships of an army 
 life, but he thought that he could yet do some- 
 thing for his country. 
 
 At this time the government was holding 
 out great inducements to volunteers. It was 
 reported that many of the negroes at the South
 
 Dh. JOHX MCGREGOR. 67 
 
 would volunteer if they could get to the North. 
 Col. Nichols and the doctor concluded to go 
 to New York, charter a steamer, take on board 
 what provisions they thought would be neces- 
 sary to supply the number of men which they 
 calculated to bring from the South, and go 
 to Hilton Head and try their luck, thinking 
 that by so doing they might aid and assist our 
 government. They carried out their contem- 
 plated plans to the letter, except the main 
 point; they did not get the men. Unforeseen 
 orders passed by the government soon after 
 they left New York, were the cause of their 
 failure to get the men. A full description of 
 that voyage would be interesting to some, but 
 I will mention only one incident, and then 
 pass on. 
 
 On the second day after leaving Hilton 
 Head, the captain discovered a ship which 
 acted rather strangely. As it came nearer, 
 he also discovered that it was armed to the 
 teeth. He at once ordered the engineer to 
 make the best time which it was possible for 
 him to do with safety. For four hours the two 
 vessels tried their skill in fast running. They
 
 68 LIFE AND DEEDS OF 
 
 could sec that the vessel was slowly gaining 
 upon them. Soon a Northern ship was seen 
 ahead of them. It proved to be an armed ship, 
 and a ship was never seen to change its course 
 quicker than the one that was chasing them. 
 The captain said that he had no doubt it was 
 a privateer. 
 
 They landed at Xew York all safe and sound, 
 but terribly disappointed. The doctor had 
 been disappointed so many times that it did 
 not affect him as much as it would some others. 
 One object which they had in going after those 
 negroes, was to avoid a draft which would be 
 levied upon Connecticut unless the quota was 
 raised by men volunteering. 
 
 What had his friends been doing all the 
 time while he was a prisoner? They had been 
 doing everything in their power for his bene- 
 fit, but all their doings were of no avail. Every 
 avenue through which they thought he could 
 be reached was thoroughly closed. His wife 
 and sister went to Washington and had an 
 interview with President Lincoln and Secre- 
 tary Stanton concerning what course to take 
 to have him released if he was alive. Stanton
 
 Dk. JOHN MCGREGOR. 69 
 
 told them that there was but one course for 
 them to pursue, and that was by exchange. 
 They were willing to do any and everything 
 which could be done for his release, or for his 
 comfort. They gave his wife a writing author- 
 izing her to select any one of the rebel officers 
 which the Xorth held as prisoners of war, and 
 for her to take any course to accomplish an 
 exchange. The rebels were approached in 
 many ways, but to no purpose. They would 
 not release him under any circumstances. 
 
 Dr. Hosford, an eminent physician, supplied 
 his place as physician and surgeon while he 
 was away; and as his health would not admit 
 of his resuming his former practice after he 
 returned, he was at liberty to do whatever lit- 
 tle thing he could for his country. He spoke 
 in many different places, describing his tour at 
 the South while he was a prisoner in the rebels' 
 hands, and urging our young men to stand 
 firm for our country and to do whatever dutv 
 presented itself to them. 
 
 This narrative relative to his war record is 
 in substance a true narrative, for I had it from 
 his own lips. A great many other interesting
 
 70 LIFE AM) DKKDS OF 
 
 things might be spoken of, but for fear of 
 wearying the reader, 1 will eease writing' about 
 the war and let the curtain drop to shut from 
 our view those terrible scenes which the war 
 produced; 
 
 This life is something like the seasons of 
 the year. To give a relish to this life we have 
 Spring and Autumn, Summer and Winter. 
 It is our adversities which make the pleasures 
 of this life enjoyable. We must have Winter 
 to enjoy Spring. Spring would be but dreary 
 weather if we had nothing else but Spring. 
 
 I think that I am safe in saying that at this 
 time he had a large number of warm and 
 influential friends. After he had somewhat 
 recovered his health, his friends in Windham 
 County selected him for their senator to repre- 
 sent them in the State Legislature. He told 
 his friends that it would be placing him out of 
 his sphere, and as he had no desire for the 
 position, he would rather not accept. His 
 friends argued that he was their choice, and 
 hoped that he would not go contrary to their 
 unanimous wish. After consulting upon the 
 matter he accepted, and I think that his friends
 
 DR. JOIIX MCGREGOR. 71 
 
 had just cause to be proud of their senator. 
 He was appointed as chairman on some of the 
 most important committees, and his acts gave 
 general satisfaction. His sayings and doings 
 while he was senator, gained him a reputation 
 which any man should prize very highly. He 
 did not desire to be in office, for that would 
 place him out of his sphere. Surgery was his 
 whole aim, and he could not be contented 
 in doing anything else. Being so long in 
 those Southern prisons had weakened his con- 
 stitution and made terrible inroads upon his 
 general health, so much so that he could not 
 endure the long rides over the hilly country 
 which surrounds Thompson. Consequently, 
 lie was obliged to seek a place where his 
 practice would be confined to a smaller sphere. 
 Providence had just lost her most noted 
 surgeon. Dr. Miller had passed from earth, 
 and Rhode Island mourned the loss. 
 
 In July, 1865, Dr. McGregor moved to 
 Providence, took rooms at the City Hotel, and 
 opened an office at 51 Dorrance street. He 
 very soon commanded a large practice in his 
 profession. His reputation as surgeon and
 
 72 LIFE AX I) DEEDS OF 
 
 physician was already established. He was 
 now 44 years old. His practice was so exten- 
 sive, and his success in his operations so 
 great, that he did not propose to lay down the 
 knife to any one in Rhode Island. 
 
 We can review the past and have some 
 knowledge of the present, but we know not 
 what the future has in store for us. When 
 everything looks prosperous and bright, when 
 the morning- zephyr plays gently with the tiny 
 flowers, and even when the midday sun shines 
 in all its loveliness, we know not but a cyclone 
 is forming beyond the hills, which, before 
 evening, will destroy all our hopes and blast 
 all our prospects. How many there are who 
 will say this is true ! rf A calm is often followed 
 by a storm," is the saying of mariners. When 
 a useful man in the meridian of life, one who 
 has always applied his talents in the right 
 direction, is suddenly cut down, the whole 
 country mourns the loss. The next scene, 
 which I am rapidly approaching, was too 
 tragical and heart-rending to admit of a minute 
 description without lacerating the hearts of 
 many, therefore I will give only some of the
 
 DR. JOHX MCGREGOR. 7o 
 
 main facts and pass on to other scenes. 
 
 The eventful 4th of November, 1867, dawned 
 upon the city of Providence in all its beauty. 
 The bells chimed in harmony, and the rever- 
 berations sounded through the streets. All 
 the forenoon the doctor had been going from 
 one sick-room to another, administering to his 
 patients. Xoon came and he repaired to the 
 City Hotel for dinner. Little did he think 
 that it was to be his last meal on earth. His 
 wife had left the city a few days previous to 
 visit relatives and friends at Thompson. After 
 dinner he again entered upon his duties. He 
 was on his way to visit the Hon. Joseph M. 
 Blake's daughter, avIio was very sick at that 
 time. On driving down Dyer street, feeling 
 perfectly safe, no doubt, the hind part of his 
 chaise was struck by the cars, and he was 
 thrown underneath and terribly mangled. He 
 was immediately taken to his rooms at the City 
 Hotel, and medical assistance summoned. It 
 was found, on examination, that one of his 
 arms was fearfully crushed, and that amputa- 
 tion would be necessary. He was put under 
 the influence of ether, and the operation com-
 
 74 LIFE AXD DEEDS OF 
 
 menced. His pulse sank rapidly, and it was 
 soon discovered that he would not survive the 
 operation. When the last stroke of the knife 
 was finished, and the arm severed from his 
 body, it was found that the immortal part of 
 Dr. McGregor had crossed the river of death. 
 His suffering's, both physical and mental, in 
 this life had been great, but he had borne them 
 with Christian fortitude. Thus ended the life 
 of Dr. John McGregor; and thus he passed 
 from earth, leaving a name and memory which 
 will never die. 
 
 When the news flashed over the country, 
 describing that tragical scene on Dyer street 
 and that terrible scene at the City Hotel, where 
 the operation was performed, and the ending 
 of his life, there was a solemn thrill through- 
 out the land. The excitement in Providence, 
 and especially at the Hotel, was intense. It 
 seemed so strange that after he had been 
 exposed to the many dangers of the battle field, 
 and to the fever and the famine which envel- 
 oped those Southern prisons, and his life had 
 been spared, he should be sacrificed in a city 
 where people should be protected against such
 
 Dr. JOHN MCGREGOR. 75 
 
 Calamities. There are many things which 
 happen to which onr feeble minds cannot be 
 reconciled; and that is one of the cases where 
 some minds are still unreconciled. We believe 
 that he is now at rest. We know that the 
 clamor of war cannot reach his ears, and we 
 know that the fever and famine will not have 
 to be endured. 
 
 The scene at the Hotel, when Mrs. McGregor 
 arrived and found that her husband was dead, 
 I will not attempt to describe, for the English 
 language is inadequate to describe such a 
 heart-rending scene. For days the Hotel was 
 thronged with sympathizing friends, all more 
 than willing to aid and assist in any way which 
 they could to alleviate the sorrow and suffering 
 of the widow and relatives, and to watch over 
 and prepare the dead for burial. 
 
 On the 10th, his remains were carefully 
 removed from the City Hotel to the Beneficent 
 Congregational Church, where Rev. James G. 
 Vose preached the following discourse occa- 
 sioned bv the death of Dr. John McGregor.
 
 DISCOURSE. 
 
 "Duty amid Danger," 
 
 My days are swifter than a post : they flee away : they see no 
 good. They are passed away as the swift ships; as the eagle 
 that hasteth to the prey.' 
 
 Job ix : 25. 
 
 This utterance of the patriarch has been 
 impressed on my mind from early childhood. 
 Something in the quaintness of phrase attracted 
 my attention, and fixed the words upon my 
 memory from the first hearing. In the whole 
 poem there is a richness and variety of meta- 
 phor which strike the ear of the most careless, 
 and haunt us like a strain of melody. In the 
 lines before us, we have three figures to denote 
 the shortness of life. The first is that of a
 
 IS FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 rider, who bears riding's, and though the rapid- 
 ity of our steam and telegraph lines seems to 
 east a satire upon the post riding, whatever it 
 were, of that early age; yet the coming and 
 departing of such a messenger is an apt symbol 
 of the horseman. Death, who appears across 
 the plains as a dim speck, and is upon us 
 before we fairly descry his garments. "My 
 days are swifter than a post, * * * they 
 are passed away as the swift ships." Here 
 also, the impression made upon the imagination 
 is not so much of absolute speed, as of strange 
 and unaccountable disappearance. The imag- ■ 
 ination is not affected by mere numbers. We 
 know how fast light travels from the sun and 
 from the fixed stars, but this does not impress 
 us, as may some simple every day fact. He, 
 who from some overlooking height, has gazed 
 dreamily out on the ocean, on a still summer 
 afternoon; and has seen a cluster of white 
 winged ships, fresh freighted and trimmed for a 
 foreign port, quietly dropping down the harbor, 
 or steering their course out of the islands 
 toward the unsheltered main, — he, who thus 
 o-azina* has turned his eve for a moment to the
 
 REV. JAMES <;. VOSE. 79 
 
 heavens or to the distant city, or lost in thought, 
 has forgotten, for a time, the objects before him, 
 when he looks again, is startled to find that the 
 ships have vanished, or perhaps he can just 
 descry their masts sinking every moment below 
 the horizon. Such an one, I say, will compre- 
 hend the figure of the sacred poet. fp They are 
 passed away as the swift ships." It is not the 
 rapidity of their motion, but the suddenness of 
 their disappearance that affects us. They may 
 have seemed to loiter and almost be motionless, 
 but the returning eye searches for them in 
 vain. It sweeps the horizon o'er and o'er, but 
 they are no more seen. "My days are swifter 
 than a post : they are passed away as the swift 
 ships; as the eagle that hasteth to the prey." 
 The keen vision of the eagle, who looks with 
 unblenched gaze at the sun, and his swift 
 (light are facts well known. Here too we see 
 that among a pastoral people the unlooked for 
 attack upon their flocks would be a fit image 
 of all sudden events. In all these figures, the 
 idea is not of absolute swiftness, but of sudden 
 and unexpected departure. Even so life 
 passes. It may seem to linger, and often it is
 
 (SO FtHNTSRAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 wearisome. Job wished for the grave, and 
 longed to hide himself in its bosom; but look- 
 ing at the past his days seemed to have van- 
 ished unawares. 
 
 The uncertainty of life is impressed upon ns, 
 with every advancing month. Strange and 
 unlooked for events set at naught all our 
 planning, and give new truth to the Spanish 
 proverb, ff Nothing is certain but the unfore- 
 seen." During the current year, in a general 
 condition of great health and quietness, we 
 have been called, in this city, to witness many 
 striking and sad events that have revived in 
 my thought continually the sublime imagery 
 of the sacred writer. ff My days are swifter 
 than a post, they are passed away as the swift 
 ships." 
 
 I wish to draw no lesson of tenor or dismay 
 from these sad events, but to lead you rather 
 to consider the claims of the present. My 
 theme is this, that duty is not diminished by 
 uncertainty. 
 
 I. There is a duty to guard against sick- 
 ness and accident. I place duty to self first, 
 because it is God's claim. We may fulfil dutv
 
 REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 81 
 
 to self without being selfish. We should love 
 ourselves, because God loves us. Many men 
 are deficient in self love. All the herd of 
 gluttons, drunkards, abusers of the body by 
 excess, are destitute of a right love of self. 
 They have no self-respect, no faith in their 
 high endowments or capacities, no sense of the 
 honor God has put on them, nor of the sacri- 
 fice Christ has made that they might be saved. 
 But others love themselves too little, who are 
 not contained in any such class as these. Men 
 and women there are, who throw away life for 
 money or for fashion, or for false appearances. 
 There are multitudes Avhose habits of life, of 
 dress, of daily employment are injurious to 
 health and fatal to long life. Many expose 
 themselves for amusement's sake, as others 
 with ecpial or even greater folly do it for gain. 
 Xow it is no answer to all this to say, that Ave 
 cannot tell what will harm, or what will benefit 
 us, that Ave are liable to so many diseases and 
 troubles that Ave may as well disregard them 
 all. We knoAv that there are certain laAvs of 
 temperance and regularity AA r hich cannot be 
 disregarded with impunity. We shall suffer
 
 82 PUBERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 for their negrlect. At all events we shall fall 
 under the displeasure of God. If we had 
 received from a friend a musical instrument of 
 rare beauty and workmanship, and were told 
 that it needed eareful handling, that its strings' 
 would suffer from moisture and from sudden 
 eold or heat, that it must not he shaken or 
 jarred, or its notes struck violently or by an 
 unskilled hand, we should certainly be very 
 ungrateful and foolish to disregard these 
 warnings. To be sure the fire may burn 
 it, or some malicious or careless hand may 
 destroy it, in spite of all our precautions, but 
 shall we therefore neglect it altogether? We 
 /tare received from God an instrument ofmorc 
 curious mechanism, than man can devise, and 
 with good handling it may outlast most of the 
 ordinary inventions of man. It may be con- 
 tinued to us seventy or eighty years. Because 
 life is uncertain, because a thousand accidents 
 and diseases surround us at all ages, shall we 
 therefore neglect all bodily care and fore- 
 thought? 
 
 You think perhaps this advice is needless. 
 Men do take thought for their bodies. Many
 
 REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 83 
 
 of you are anxious and troubled on account of 
 some little ailment. You lie awake and are 
 restless with apprehension, because of some 
 slight pain, or some anticipated evil. You 
 hear of some disease that has affected a neigh- 
 bor or caused his death, and you imagine it 
 may be that you have symptoms of the same, 
 and yet you yourself have been and are, per- 
 haps, neglectful of the commonest rules of 
 bodily health. Neither your food, your sleep, 
 nor your exercise are guided by a sense of 
 duty to God. You forget that God will call 
 you to account for your body as well as for 
 your soul. You forget that in addition to the 
 pains and sickness brought on by wrong- 
 doing, men will also have to answer for the 
 sin of abusing God's handiwork. Admit that 
 with our best precautions we cannot escape 
 suffering and danger, should we not the more 
 earnestly seek in all right ways to avoid all 
 needless harm and loss? 
 
 The same thing is true in reference to acci- 
 dent by the elements or the works of man. T\ c 
 cannot stay the thunderbolt nor the earth- 
 quake, but we can avert the lightning from
 
 84 PUTSTERAL DISCOURSE P»V 
 
 our dwellings by the simple contrivance of 
 Franklin. We can avoid needless danger. 
 We can avoid reckless exposure. Yet how 
 often is this duty forgotten! Men build rail- 
 roads and run them without regard for human 
 life. Through the streets of a populous city, 
 or on even grade, across a travelled road, it 
 makes little difference where, if there is money 
 to be made. Traffic takes little note of life or 
 limb. And there is too much indifference to 
 the fearful anguish that may result from some 
 false or unexpected movement. The iron 
 wheels that bear such prodigious weight, -may 
 now and then go over a human heart, and 
 crush the life out from other kindred hearts; 
 and what amount of money, or business 
 accommodation put into the opposite scale 
 will balance that loss and anguish? The 
 uncertainties of life relieve us from no caution 
 public or private — they rather increase and 
 force upon us the duty, both for ourselves and 
 others, of obeying the rules of prudence, of 
 temperance, of care, and circumspection, that 
 we may not throw away the life which God 
 has bestowed. Is it not a plain duty of all
 
 REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 85 
 
 good governments and good citizens to see to 
 it, that the lives of our fellowmen are not 
 endangered by steam engines, and factories 
 erected in dangerous places, by explosions in 
 crowded streets, — by yielding to traffic and 
 convenience all the claims that belong to the 
 sacredness of life? Rhode Island has abol- 
 ished capital punishment. She is too tender 
 hearted to put to death even the worst of 
 criminals. Shall we not make better laws for 
 the safety of our citizens, as they walk or ride 
 along bur streets at midday? Is it not a 
 solemn duty to secure our friends and our 
 children, by all possible means, from such sad 
 catastrophies? Of the numerous inventions 
 of the present day to facilitate trade, or to 
 improve the style and comfort of living, 
 almost every one tends also to endanger or to 
 shorten life ; and we need the greatest care, by 
 public laws, and by private efforts to defend 
 ourselves and others from harm. It is the 
 boast of owv age, that human life is regarded 
 as more sacred than it ever was before. And 
 yet the most inhuman butcheries occur on 
 railroads and steamboats, and within our cities
 
 86 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 almost every week, and are passed over as 
 blameless accidents. God will call us to 
 account, as men and citizens, for the reckless- 
 ness and indifference that suffer so many pre- 
 cious lives to be destroyed. 
 
 II. And now I come, secondly, to a very 
 different point presented by this theme, viz: 
 That it is our duty to encounter dangers joy- 
 fully, when a real good is to be gained. Duty 
 remains amid uncertainty. And when there 
 is a substantial good to be gained, or when 
 there is a fair hope of attaining it, we may 
 rightly encounter danger. Men must encoun- 
 ter danger in the ordinary pursuits of business. 
 They must travel over land and sea. They 
 must run the risks of fire, of machinery, of the 
 various tools and implements which they have 
 in use. While these risks ought to be under 
 far more strict regulation, they still must be 
 bravely met. If men accept the industries 
 which God sets before them, in a God-fearing 
 manner, they have a right to trust his protec- 
 tion. If they are not carried away by love of 
 gold, or fool-hardiness, then they may regard 
 danger as encountered in obedience to Him.
 
 REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 87 
 
 And in many eases in life, God does plainly 
 command us to advance in the very face of 
 danger. We are called to expose ourselves 
 for the sake of our friends and children. To 
 save their lives we must willingly risk our 
 own. Nay, sometimes for . strangers or ene- 
 mies, even, we ought to encounter peril to 
 relieve them, ^so true hearted man will see 
 the sick or wounded suffer and die, when he 
 can afford them help, although the furnishing 
 of that help may incur the danger of disease 
 to himself. When a contagious disease breaks 
 out in city or country, some friend must min- 
 ister to the sufferer. There is responsibility 
 somewhere to furnish aid and nursing and 
 medical skill. There is a duty higher than 
 that of self-preservation. And this is recog- 
 nized, thank God! Human nature, corrupt 
 and imperfect as it is, still recognizes the duty 
 of mutual help. And many a timid woman, 
 and many a generous boy, and many a poor 
 sailor, even, will forget all thought of self, and 
 spring to the side of the suffering, when there 
 is the least hope of rescuing or comforting 
 them in their distress.
 
 88 FTXNTERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 At times, it is the highest duty to forget all 
 fear. Xay, at times it is the highest safety, 
 also. For, in eities, where the pestilence has 
 raged, or where the yellow fever lias swept off 
 thousands, it is found that those who have been 
 most generous and sympathizing, — the faithful 
 physician, the attentive nurse, the sister of 
 mercy, — have been protected of God through 
 all dangers, while the eowering fugitive, 01* the 
 selfish negleeter of the suffering, has fallen a 
 victim. It is God's command that we live in 
 this world for high objects, and that these 
 should always rise above mere personal safety 
 or comfort. This does not conflict with the 
 claims of our own body and soul, for the chief 
 motive why these should be supported, is that 
 they may be useful in God's sight. It is not 
 easy to draw any distinct line for all cases, but 
 he who studies the character of Christ and the 
 example of all noble, useful men in the world, 
 will learn how to fulfill duty to self and duty 
 to others, at the same time. 
 
 In the breaking out of our war, our young 
 men learned this lesson — I think I may say 
 all classes of society learned it. Men and
 
 REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 89 
 
 women, young and old ; all professions and all 
 ages, learned it. ^N"one more certainly than 
 our physicians, who offered themselves read- 
 ily to care for the sick and wounded, and to 
 go with them to prison or to death. And thus 
 it is sometimes, in life, — the greater the dan- 
 ger, the greater the duty. If it be a plain 
 duty, if God commands, and love and honor 
 light the way, then danger and peril only 
 increase the obligation, as they increase the 
 honor. 
 
 III. I come, therefore, thirdly, to remark 
 that amid all the uncertainties of this life, it is 
 still our duty to remember the obligations due 
 to the present. We possess only the present. 
 Our sphere of action, our power of control 
 upon ourselves and others is limited. The 
 good act will, indeed sweep onward in waves of 
 influence, but the pebble we cast must be cast 
 into the present, if at all. The question for us 
 is not what shall be on the morrow, not where 
 we shall be, nor where shall be our neighbor or 
 child, but what we may do to-day, to comfort 
 and bless them. We need a more child-like 
 spirit, that we may thank God for the gifts of
 
 90 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 the present, that Ave may enjoy them tranquilly, 
 and impart them with a child's sweetness to 
 others. The present comfo; t and health of our 
 household and those committed to our care, 
 involve ample duties, which must for the 
 greater part of the time engross us. It is of 
 vast importance that we live lives of kindness, 
 of tenderness and self-denial, that w r e make 
 home happy by the radiance of a cheerful and 
 eontented spirit. Grief and trouble will come 
 soon enough. Let us not cloud the present 
 sunshine, let us not fret and repine because of 
 coming ill. Terrible events are about us; let 
 us yield them the tear of sympathy, but let us 
 not be too much cast down. For God calls us 
 to make others happy and to point their eyes 
 to the spot of sunshine on the distant hills. 
 A life of gentle faith, of silent endurance, is 
 pleasing in the sight of God. What though 
 the darkness lowers, the gracious God is 
 behind it. I have heard aged people describe 
 the dark day, which occurred in 1780. The 
 darkness was so great, that all ordinary 
 business was suspended. The cattle came 
 home from the pasture ; the fowls sought their
 
 REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 91 
 
 nightly perch; lamps were lighted at midday, 
 and men's faces wore the look of terror and 
 dismay. At that time the Connecticut Assem- 
 bly was sitting, and some proposed that they 
 should adjourn, for the day of judgment was 
 coming; but one of the members, stern old 
 Abraham Davenport, declared that, if the end 
 of the world were come, they could be found 
 in no better place than at their post of duty. 
 And Whittier describes him in his fine lines, 
 as saying — 
 
 This well may be the day of judgment which the world awaits. 
 
 But be it so or not, I only know 
 
 My present duty, and my Lord's command 
 
 To occupy till he come. 
 And therefore with all reverence will I say. 
 Let God do His work, we will see to ours. 
 
 Thus should we remember, friends, our obli- 
 gations to the present. God has set us in our 
 post of duty to live humbly, patiently and lov- 
 ingly, remembering the happiness of all who 
 are about us. There has always been, to my 
 mind, a strong a priori argument against those 
 who attempt to show from prophecy when the 
 end of the world will be, that the whole spirit
 
 92 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 of the Bible commands us to fulfill present 
 
 duty. And it would be contrary to the whole 
 spirit of faith and duty, that God should reveal 
 the future. "Secret things belong unto the 
 Lord our God, but those which are revealed 
 belong unto us and to our children, that we 
 may do the works of this law." We must 
 remember, then, our obligations to the present. 
 It is well to live by the day, not laying too 
 many plans for this life, not over confident of 
 anything concerning it, but anxious that the 
 present time be well and wisely employed. 
 
 Men sometimes say, in hollow phrase, that 
 we ought to live each day as if it were the last. 
 Such a life would be miserable and useless. If 
 you knew this to be your last day, you would 
 spend it in farewells to your friends, and in 
 closing up the business of life. But you do 
 not know it to be your last day. What then? 
 Let us use it wisely. Be sure it will be the 
 last day to some. In this city one thousand 
 persons die a year, an average of three a day. 
 Very rarely does a day pass but it is the last 
 for some one, who had found a home here, 
 They die by accident or disease, by many
 
 REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 93 
 
 dreaded or imdreaded ways. It will do us no 
 harm to think of it sometimes, — ?f To smell to 
 a fresh turf," says Thomas Fuller, "is whole- 
 some to the body, — even so the thoughts of 
 mortality are healthful to the soul." How, 
 then, shall I use this thought? I will be 
 kindly, humble, true to every man I meet in 
 business or social life. I will be gentle and 
 patient in the house and in the shop. I will 
 make life easier and better for friends and 
 children. ' Above all, I will be true to the 
 soul's need, and remember that to-day is all 
 we are sure of to prepare for heaven. I will, 
 therefore, take all fitting times to impress 
 religious truth upon the souls of men, that, if 
 that strange lot which is cast every day for 
 one or more of the dwellers of this city, 
 should fall among my family, or within my 
 circle of influence, I may rejoice that the duty 
 of the day has been well done. It is not for 
 me to forebode disaster or trouble, but to 
 leave all in the hands of God, who will cause 
 all things to work together for good to those 
 that love Him. The simplicity of such a life 
 is well expressed in a German hymn, which I
 
 <)4 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 love to remember: 
 
 My God, I know not when I die, 
 What is the moment, or the hour, 
 How soon the clay may broken lie, 
 How quickly pass away the flower : 
 Then may thy child prepared be 
 Thro' time to meet eternity. 
 
 My God, I know not how I die, 
 For death has many ways to come. 
 In dark, mysterious agony, 
 Or gently as a sleep, to some. 
 Just as thon wilt, if but I be 
 Forever blessed, Lord, with Thee. 
 
 My God, I know not where I die, 
 
 Where is my grave, beneath what strand. 
 
 Yet, from its gloom, I do rely 
 
 To be delivered by thy hand. 
 
 Content I take what spot is mine, 
 
 Since all the earth, my Lord, is Thine. 
 
 My gracious God, when I must die, 
 Oh ! bear my happy sonl above, 
 Witli Christ, my Lord, eternally 
 To share thy glory and thy love ! 
 Then comes it right and well to me, 
 When, where and how my death shall be. 
 
 Sudden deaths, dear friends, have multiplied 
 among ns of late. Among public and private
 
 REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 95 
 
 men, these strange and shocking events have 
 been of frequent occurrence. Such events 
 sound strangely amid the excitements and 
 business of this present life. In the strife of 
 elections, in the whirl of traffic and of pleasure, 
 the coming of death terrifies us, like a peal of 
 thunder. God doubtless sends these shocks 
 to startle men in their selfishness, and to teach 
 them the vanity of earthly things. But this is 
 but part of the lesson. It is not to hinder 
 the proper pursuits of life, it is not to paralyze 
 the arm that is uplifted in manly struggle. It 
 is rather to urge men to fulfill every duty as in 
 the sight of God. It is to press upon them the 
 sacredness of life, and the worth of every 
 moment. Great duties and small must be 
 attended to now, or else forever abandoned. 
 r Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
 with thy might, for there is no work, nor 
 device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the 
 grave whither thou goest." Too late, then, to 
 seek the forgiveness of God, too late to seek 
 the forgiveness of man, too late, also, to for- 
 give, if we have cherished animosities, or to 
 speak the word of tenderness and love, where
 
 96 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 we have offended. Too late to recall the harsh 
 and bitter speech, too late to do the aet of self- 
 denial for friends or children, or to bestow the 
 gifts of charity on the starving or distressed. 
 pr He that is faithful, in that which is least, is 
 faithful also in much." There is a prayer in 
 the liturgy to be delivered from sudden death. 
 I am told that in Newman Hall's chapel in 
 London, where the liturgy is used in modified 
 form, that prayer is rendered, "From sudden 
 and unprepared death, Good Lord, deliver 
 us." I take it this is the meaning of the 
 prayer, and well for us, however and when- 
 ever death comes, if only we be found ready. 
 
 And now I will say a word in respect to the 
 sad death of one of our own congregation, 
 which has deeply affected this community. 
 He has disappeared from our sight as in a 
 moment. As a plummet sinks in the mighty 
 waters, so has he vanished from our view in 
 the ocean of eternity. Last Sabbath, in all the 
 vigor of manly strength, with the hope of years 
 of active labor and usefulness before him; — 
 to-day, sleeping in his narrow bed. Dr. John
 
 REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 97 
 
 McGregor was born in Coventry, R. I. After 
 his early education, he engaged in teaching 
 school for a time, before entering upon his 
 professional career. It was here, while just 
 deciding upon the course of his future life, 
 that his religious impressions became fixed 
 and positive. Thoughtfully and with full 
 purpose of heart, he gave himself to the Lord 
 Jesus Christ. We have delightful evidence 
 of the power of this change in the testimony 
 of our own Sabbath School Superintendent, 
 who was at that time his pupil. When the 
 youthful teacher became a Christian, he deemed 
 it his plain duty to inform his scholars of his 
 new found faith, and not quailing before a trial 
 which has often been' found harder than to 
 face the perils of battle, he summoned them 
 around him, to begin their daily studies with 
 prayer to God. His Christian character, 
 borne witness to by those who have known 
 him through a long life, was ever of this faith- 
 ful type. He was a man of simple integrity, a 
 man who never thought of turning aside from 
 duty, however difficult. 
 
 As a professional man, there is abundant
 
 98 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 and distinct evidence of his high attainments 
 and success. In the State of Connecticut and 
 in the comity of Windham, where he resided 
 he became well and favorably known, at a very 
 early period in his practice. He was specially 
 distinguished as a surgeon, and some remark- 
 able cases, in which he was called, bear witness 
 alike to his skill and his fidelity. Some of 
 these have record in the scientific journals, 
 and others are fondly cherished in the memory 
 of grateful and admiring friends. A long 
 account was given me last winter by a friend, 
 of an extraordinary case of surgery performed 
 by him, not only with marvelous skill and suc- 
 cess, but with a fidelity and tenderness, wholly 
 untainted by hope of reward. 
 
 And here let me bear witness, in honor of 
 a profession for which I have the profonndest 
 respect, that it does include, and has ever 
 included, some of the most self-denying, most 
 honorable and high minded men, that the world 
 has ever seen. Among its ranks, there is less 
 of sordidness, and far more of kindly, generous 
 feeling, than in the ordinary walks of life. Of 
 course there are painful exceptions. But I
 
 REV. JAMES a. VOSE. 99 
 
 speak now of what seems to be the tendency 
 and influence of this ennobling profession. 
 ff Able, cautions and experienced physicians," 
 says Martin Luther, ff are the gifts of God. 
 They are the ministers of nature, to whom 
 human life is confided. No physician should 
 take a single step, but in humility and the fear 
 of God; they who are without the fear of God, 
 are mere homicides." 
 
 Dr. McGregor was an example, worthy of 
 his class. He never refused the cry of pov- 
 erty, nor ministered with any the less care or 
 assiduity in the homes of the poor and friend- 
 less. Blessed with a strong body and a tran- 
 quil mind, he was well endowed by nature for 
 his arduous task, and in the early part of his 
 life, when in full health, he traveled far and 
 near, in his country district, to attend upon 
 the suffering. There are many living to-day 
 who remember with gratitude his faithful 
 attentions. Some whose lives were saved, and 
 others whose troubles were cured or assuaged, 
 will learn with sincere sorrow of his painfull 
 death. 
 
 Truly are fulfilled in him the sweet words of
 
 100 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 the poet. 
 
 " How many a poor man's blessing wont 
 With him beneath the low green tent, 
 
 Whose curtain never outward swings '■" 
 
 Of his military career, I cannot speak at 
 great length, nor is there any need. The main 
 facts are too impressive to demand the addition 
 of details. With the breaking out of the rebel- 
 lion, he deemed it his duty to offer his services 
 to the government. He regarded his skill and 
 experience as justly claimed by his country- 
 men, and he went out in one of the earliest 
 regiments, which went forward to the conflict. 
 It was the third Conn. Vol., a three months 
 regiment, but not for him a three months cam- 
 paign. In the disastrous battle of Bull Run, 
 which fell like a crushing weight on every true 
 freeman's heart, our friend was taken prisoner. 
 It is distinctly testified, that this was owing to 
 his firm determination not to forsake his men. 
 He knew that none would care for the sick and 
 wounded as he could do it, and he would not 
 leave them, and therefore he went voluntarily 
 to an imprisonment, which was worse than
 
 REV. JAMES G. VOSE. 101 
 
 death. From prison to prison he followed his 
 Buffering comrades, until so emaciated that his 
 manly frame was reduced to half its nsnal 
 weight. Dear friends, these scenes must not 
 be dwelt on. They are too bitter and too 
 painful. 
 
 After remaining on the battle field seven- 
 teen days; on any one of which he might have 
 escaped, had he been willing to desert his sick 
 and dying comrades; he was taken to Rich- 
 mond, and thence after a short time removed 
 to Castle Pinckne} 7 . Afterwards he was 
 removed to Charleston Jail, where he suffered 
 incredible anguish from sickness and privation. 
 During this time a great fire occurred, and the 
 walls of the prison were heated through and 
 its dark cells lighted up by the flame. The 
 poor prisoners locked in and guarded as they 
 were, viewed death inevitable. But the confla- 
 gration was stayed, and our friend who had 
 endured such tortures of mind and body, was 
 carried to Columbia, to Salisbury, and again 
 to Richmond, from whence he was at length 
 released. In these thirteen months of his 
 captivity, he saw and felt as much of the
 
 102 FUXKHAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 agony and cruelty of our civil war, as any man 
 perhaps could be able to see and live. 
 
 But it is sweet to think, that this faithful 
 surgeon comforted so many of the suffering, 
 saved the lives and relieved the distresses of 
 so many. 
 
 This was his reward, this the joy and solace 
 of his personal sacrifices. In looking back 
 upon these anguished days, he never regretted 
 the course he had taken, nor esteemed it other 
 than an honor and a privilege, that he was 
 counted worthy to suffer in so great a cause. 
 No man ever heard a boastful narrative from 
 him of these troubled days, nor would his nat- 
 ural modesty suifer any but a little circle of 
 familiar friends to draw from him the history 
 of his army life. Many who met him on our 
 streets or received him into their houses, had 
 little thought that he deserved a place high on 
 the roll of those who were ready to give life, 
 and more than life for the salvation of their 
 country. 
 
 We claim him to-day as our brother in this 
 church, for although his name is not on our 
 list, yet he had expressed his intention of uni-
 
 REV. JAMES G. YOSE. 103 
 
 ting with us, and I hold in my possesion the 
 letter which he brought from the church, in 
 his former home, cordially commending him, 
 to us, as a brother faithful and beloved. 
 
 As it was beautifully said, at our prayer 
 meeting last Tuesday evening, the hands of 
 this church fellowship were soon to have been 
 raised in welcome to this newly admitted mem- 
 ber. But already the hands of angels and the 
 spirits of the just have wafted him a sweeter 
 and a purer welcome, to the church of the first 
 born, whose names are written in heaven. 
 
 It was, indeed, a most sad and melancholy 
 catastrophe, by which he was snatched away 
 from earth. I wish not at this time, to make 
 any harsh or criminating charges against indi- 
 viduals, but certainly there is blame somewhere. 
 The life that God had spared through such 
 terrible cruelties, and amid all the perils of 
 war, — ought not to have been poured out on 
 the altar of traffic, ought not to have been 
 destroyed by a miserable system of railroad 
 management. May it be a warning that may 
 lead to better and safer ways of answering the 
 claims of business, and providing for the trans-
 
 104 FUNERAL DISCOURSE BY 
 
 portation of goods. r I can create a thousand 
 noblemen, in a day," said the king* of France, 
 "but I cannot make one philosopher." So may 
 we say in our age, — we can make and trans- 
 port innumerable bales of merchandise, but we 
 cannot restore the life of a noble citizen, which 
 is worth them all. No wonder that the deso- 
 late and bereaved heart cannot look, save with 
 uncontrolled anguish, upon so dreadful an 
 event. It is not in human nature to regard it 
 calmly. And if the spirit rises against the 
 thought, as if unwilling to admit it, I know 
 there is love and patience in the heart of Grod. 
 I remember that when our Divine Master 
 met the weeping Mary at Bethany, and she 
 reproached him, saying — "Lord, if thou had st 
 been here, my brother had not died," — he 
 made no answer, but only groaned in spirit. 
 Such is the sympathy, even now, which Jesus 
 has for every suffering soul. 
 
 But let us turn our eyes to the glorious 
 record of the faithful. Let us behold this 
 noble martyr crowned among those who have 
 served God faithfully to the end. It was not 
 ordered of a wise Providence that he should
 
 REV. JAMBS a. VOSE. 105 
 
 die amid the many perils of the war. He 
 escaped them almost as by a miracle. The 
 shield of the Almighty was over him, in the 
 day of conflict. His spirit went not up in the 
 shout and smoke of battle. Xor did he die 
 with those who sank away in the hospital or 
 in the stockade. What a mockery upon 
 human foresight, do the circumstances of his 
 death afford us! Here, in our peaceful city, 
 pursuing the rounds of his benign art, he 
 meets the death, which seemed unable to find 
 him when clothed with all the panoply of war. 
 He was separated for a little time from those 
 brave heroes, whom he nursed and comforted 
 in their dying hours. But he is none the less 
 a martyr in the cause of humanity. And in 
 the records of heaven, his name will be treas- 
 ured among those who have sacrificed their all 
 for their nation and for God.
 
 SERVICES AT PHENIX. 
 
 After the services at the church were over, 
 the funeral train left Providence for Phenix. 
 At Phenix, the people received his remains as 
 their own. They said, " He comes back to us, 
 his work finished." It was the desire of Mr. 
 William C. Ames and family that the remains 
 of Dr. McGregor should be taken to his house, 
 and there rest until the next day, when there 
 would be services at the Methodist Episcopal 
 Church, previous to burial. 
 
 On November 11th, Rev. Mr. Westgate, 
 assisted by Rev. Mr. Tallman of Thompson 
 and Rev. Mr. Shepard, preached a very instruct- 
 ive discourse. After the services, his remains
 
 108 THE DOCTOR'S 
 
 were removed to the tomb at Greenwood Cem- 
 etery. At last, the earthly journey was over. 
 There, surrounded by his weeping relatives 
 
 and friends, lie was carefully laid away to sleep, 
 after his work was done. And the widow fol- 
 lowed her fond husband to his last earthly 
 resting place, and, in his grave, buried her 
 hopes of happiness here, and returned comfort- 
 less to her desolate home. 
 
 On a lofty eminence overlooking' Phenix, 
 and many other villages for miles around, 
 stands a massive monument denoting the 
 burial place of Dr. John McGregor. This 
 monument will stand as long as the stars, like 
 angels' eyes, through the clear sky so beauti- 
 fully bright, look down upon this city of the 
 dead; or the crescent moon sheds its pale light 
 o'er these graves, as it sinks behind the western 
 hills; or the first rays of the morning -sun form 
 the dew drops upon this monument into tears, 
 and scatter them upon the grave beneath. Tt 
 will stand until all the graves on the land, the 
 catacombs of the east, and all the seas, are 
 called upon to give np the dead. Then, and 
 not until then, will the monuments of genius
 
 MOXIMEXT. 109 
 
 and the arts fall alike, and mingle with the 
 fragments of fallen grandeur. 
 
 The knowledge of events, and the state of 
 things in times past, have been communicated 
 to ns by inscriptions found upon visible monu- 
 ments. Thus we find that when the Hebrews 
 crossed the Jordan to invade the land of 
 Canaan, they set up a heap of twelve stones 
 to commemorate the event. A vast number 
 of inscriptions have been gathered from the 
 mass of ancient ruins. Of these, the following 
 are among the most interesting: the inscription 
 upon the pedestal of the Rostral Column of 
 Rome: the inscription on the tombstone of the 
 Scipios; the inscription of Zeus: the inscrip- 
 tion termed "The Decree." This decree was 
 engraved in three different characters. A 
 history lost to the world lias been recovered 
 by this means. Thus you see the importance 
 of leaving pur history upon granite or marble. 
 It will aid those in the future, in making up 
 the history of the present. 
 
 That voice to which we -have so often lis- 
 tened with earnest attention, is hushed forever. 
 The country is not unmindful of his renown, or
 
 110 
 
 ungrateful for his services. We pause to weep 
 at his tomb. Men die, but their words are left 
 on record; their works remain; their example 
 survives. He who makes a record like the 
 one I am reviewing, he who has achieved a 
 character like that which I now hold up to the 
 youths of our country, may well say when the 
 supreme hour arrives, "I am ready." While 
 the wind sighs through the trees which shadow 
 his grave, and the birds sing their sweet songs 
 at the close of dav, let us all remember that 
 we too must ere long close our earthly career, 
 and begin our lives in eternity. May our rec- 
 ord be such that our posterity can look upon 
 it, and truly say, fr We are proud of our ances- 
 tors."
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Dr. john McGregor. 
 
 Returned from prison August 3d, 1862; departed this life 
 November 4th, 1867. 
 
 In early morning 
 
 We watched for his coming, 
 
 Ere the first beams of day 
 
 Chased the black night away. 
 
 Fearfully, tearfully, 
 
 Under the maple tree, 
 
 In thickest dark 
 
 We watched for his coming. 
 
 Heavy the mist 
 
 Of the mid August morning. 
 
 Chilly and clammy 
 
 It rose from the valley : 
 
 A sombre pall unfurled 
 
 Over a prostrate world, 
 
 Shrouding earth, air and sky 
 
 In blackest mystery, 
 
 Filling our eyes with tears, 
 
 Chilling our hearts with fears. 
 
 As in its depth 
 
 We waited his coming,
 
 112 EN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Watched for his coming 
 Through mist and blackness, 
 From deeper misery. 
 Blacker captivity. 
 Wearisome banishment', 
 Sickness and languishment ; 
 Out of a charnel house, 
 Loathsome, pest i ferons. 
 Out of the depths 
 of the foul Southern prisons. 
 
 Proudly we sent him 
 
 Forth on his mission ; 
 
 Sadly we mourned him. 
 
 Our loved physician. 
 
 Who when war's thunder stroke 
 
 First on the nation broke. 
 
 Hurried without delay 
 
 Into the fierce affray ; 
 
 On Bull Run's fatal field 
 
 Nobly disdained to yield ; 
 
 Quailed not when shot and shell 
 
 Raked his frail hospital : 
 
 Urging his men to die 
 
 Rather than basely fly ; 
 
 Till to captivity 
 
 Borne by the enemy ; 
 
 Dragged in derision 
 
 From prison to prison, 
 
 While anxious friends in vain 
 
 Sought his release to gain ; 
 
 Still interceding, 
 
 Anxiously pleading,
 
 On. JOHN McGKREGOK. 113 
 
 From Winter to Summer, . 
 
 Till on this Sabbath morn 
 
 Rumors of his return 
 
 Fell upon doubting ear-. 
 
 Hopes were repressed by fears. 
 
 As in the stillness, 
 
 The shuddering dullness, 
 
 The gloom and the grimness. 
 
 We watched for his coming. 
 
 Never a sound was heard, 
 
 Never word spoken ; 
 
 Silence and darkness reigned 
 
 Mute and unbroken : 
 
 Till from the valley pale 
 
 A distant moaning wail 
 
 Floated o'er hill and dale, 
 
 Now sinking soft and slow. 
 
 Like summer breezes low. 
 
 Until the straining ear 
 
 Scarce a faint sigh could hear: 
 Then whistles loud and shrill 
 Echo from hill to hill. 
 Quinnebaug's valley thrill. 
 As over mead and plain 
 Thunders the lightning train. 
 We hear the warning bell 
 Its swift approach foretell. 
 With furious sally 
 It whistles through the valley:. 
 iJashing along the stream. 
 With frantic >hriek and scream 
 Pausing — perchance to bring 
 Home the long wandering —
 
 Ill TV MEMORIAM. 
 
 A moment's delay, 
 Then speeds far away, 
 Plying — like comet bright — 
 
 To viewless realms of night. 
 
 A.down the tillage streel 
 
 Lanterns are gleaming, 
 Through the gray waning mist 
 Dark forms are stealing; 
 Friends, kindred, neighbors, 
 Together rally. 
 Waiting the tidings 
 To come from the valley : 
 Mutely together stood, 
 Hoping yet fearing, 
 Down the dark valley road 
 Anxiously peering. 
 Low rumbling sounds we hear. 
 Wagons are drawing near, 
 Pale spectral forms appear 
 Through the mist gleaming. 
 O'er the moist clinging soil 
 Slowly the horses toil. 
 Slow to our seeming, 
 Whose eager eyes intent 
 On those dim figures bent. 
 Scan every lineament. 
 Striving in each to trace 
 That dear familiar face; 
 Now fearing, now doubting, 
 Now hoping, now shouting, 
 • lie has come ! He has come ! 
 Oh. Doctor, welcome home!
 
 Dk. JOHN MCGREGOR. 115 
 
 From long imprisonment, 
 From weary banishment, 
 From battle, danger, chains, 
 Oh, welcome home again !" 
 
 We gather round him 
 
 With eager greetings, 
 
 Friend after friend 
 
 Their joy repeating; 
 
 While from sweet Thompson 
 
 bells 
 A joyful choras swells, 
 Ringing the glad refrain. 
 ••Home again, home again." 
 Black night had passed away 
 
 Before returning day ; 
 Vapor and cloud had gone, 
 Bright beamed the rising suu r 
 As homeward turning, 
 Upon this Sabbath morn. 
 This resurrection dawn. 
 No longer mourning, 
 But with one heart and voice 
 Singing " Rejoice, rejoice," 
 Telling to all around 
 •• The Lost indeed is found, 
 The dead is living." 
 Making the Sabbath day 
 Where e'er the tidings stray — 
 At home or far away — 
 A slad Thanks °rivin 2: !
 
 11G IN MEMORTAM. 
 
 Five years have passed since on that morn, 
 
 That misty Augusl morning, 
 Through hours of darkness and of doubt, 
 
 We watched for his returning, 
 And hailed our Doctor's safe release, 
 
 His happy restoration, 
 To freedom, practice, friends and home. 
 
 With joyful acclamation. 
 Jn deeper, darker, heavier grief, 
 
 To-day our hearts are mourning, 
 No friendly message cheers us now 
 
 With hopes of his returning; 
 No prayers, no efforts can avail 
 
 To ope that narrow prison, 
 No mandate can recall the dead. 
 
 Back to our yearning vision. 
 
 Yet to illume this gloomy vale 
 
 Of death and desolation, 
 There comes a light beyond the tomb, 
 
 A Heavenly revelation ; 
 Death only holds the outward form. 
 
 The grave is but the portal. 
 Where the freed spirit drops its clay 
 
 To soar to realms immortal. 
 Nor can we doubt that in that realm 
 
 Beyond our dim discerning, 
 Were those who watched for his return 
 
 As we that Sabbath morning ; 
 Nay, that the rapturous delight 
 
 That marked the earthly meeting 
 But faintly shadowed forth the joy 
 
 Of that celestial greeting.
 
 Dr. JOITN MCGREGOR. 117 
 
 Those who have loved him here below, 
 
 Friends who have passed before him, 
 Spirits of just ones perfect grown. 
 
 Were there rejoicing o'er him ; 
 While the angelic hosts of God, 
 
 In melodies supernal, 
 Welcomed earth's weary wanderer home 
 
 To Sabbath rest eternal. 
 
 Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, 
 
 Nor fancy's brightest vision 
 ( 'onceived the things prepared for those 
 
 Who share the blessed elysian ; 
 Enough, that those who honor here 
 
 Their Saviour by confessing, 
 Shall be by Him acknowledged there, 
 
 And crowned with endless blessing. 
 
 And he so deeply mourned by all, 
 
 The much beloved physician, 
 Who had so nobly kept the faith. 
 
 Fulfilled his earthly mission, 
 He who to those celestial heights 
 
 Triumphantly has risen, 
 Perchance looks down with pity now 
 
 On us, still bound in prison. 
 And when our mortal course is run, 
 
 Our earthly fetters riven. 
 May we, like our departed friend, 
 
 So faithfully have striven, 
 That all who welcomed his return, 
 
 Or shared that happy meeting, 
 May share with him that Heavenly home, 
 
 Receive his joyful greeting. 
 
 Z. — Windham County Transcript. 
 Thompson, April, 18fi8.
 
 THE LATE 
 
 Dr. JOHN McGREGOE. 
 
 [From the Woonsocket Patriot.] 
 
 A monument has just been erected by Mrs. 
 Dr. John McGregor, to the memory of her 
 lamented husband, at Phenix, R. I. It is 
 constructed of granite from the quarry at 
 Oneco, Conn., near his father's residence. 
 The monument is simple, but massive in its 
 proportions, and would seem to transmit the 
 memory of our good doctor as long as poster- 
 ity shall endure, or time shall last. The mon- 
 ument consists of three blocks of granite, 
 commencing with a base of five feet in 
 diameter and two feet thick, which, from the 
 conformation of the ground, required sixteen 
 horses to convey it to its resting place. The
 
 120 
 
 other blocks were in the same relative propor- 
 tions. Above these a shaft was erected, two 
 feet is diameter at the base and twelve feet 
 hiarh. The whole is a commanding structure, 
 eighteen feet high, executed in the first style 
 of the art. On the front of the second block 
 of granite, the name, "Dr. John McGregor,' 1 
 is cut in raised letters as large as the space 
 will admit, with his age and the date of his 
 death underneath. Above, on the shaft, are 
 the Masonic emblems, the Bible, on which rest 
 the square and compass, in the degree of a 
 Master Mason, beautifully executed. It will 
 rear its massive height in our midst, ever 
 recalling those welcome memories which clus- 
 ter around his name, and impressing upon us 
 the exalting thought that he has only gone up 
 higher.
 
 RESOLUTIONS CONCERNING 
 
 THE DEATH OF 
 
 Dr. JOHN McGREGOK. 
 
 [From the Providence Daily Journal, November 12, 1867. ] 
 
 The Providence Medical Association held 
 a meeting, last evening, by adjournment. The 
 President, Dr. Collins, gave an interesting 
 account of his attendance upon the interna- 
 tional Medical Congress in Paris, and his 
 visits to the hospitals of various European 
 capitals. Upon motion of Dr. Gardner, a com- 
 mittee of three was raised to consider the 
 matter of the running of cars through the pub- 
 lic streets of the city, and to memorialize the 
 City Council thereon, if it shall to the commit- 
 tee seem expedient. Appropriate resolutions 
 touching the death of Dr. McGregor were
 
 adopted, an official report of which is liorcto 
 appended. 
 
 At a meeting of the Providence Medical 
 Association, held on Monday evening, Nov. 
 11 th, the following resolutions were unani- 
 mously adopted: 
 
 Whereas, Our late brother, Dr. John McGregor, lias, in the 
 Providence of God, been removed from us by sudden death; 
 
 Resolved, That we cherish in lasting esteem the many manly 
 and generous qualities of his character, his skill and fidelity, 
 which had given him a high reputation before he came among 
 us; his patriotism, severely tried in long captivity at the South; 
 his liberality to the poor, and his conscientious devotion to the 
 duties of his profession. 
 
 Resolved, That we keenly lament the loss of an associate who 
 gave promise of eminent usefulness in this city. 
 
 Resolved, That we desire to express our heartfelt sympathy 
 with the family that has been so suddenly and terribly bereaved. 
 
 Resolved, That these resolutions be communicated to the 
 widow of our late friend, and published in the Providence Daily 
 Journal. 
 
 G. L. Collins, M. D., President. 
 
 W. H. Traver, M. D., Secretary.
 
 McGregor post, no. 14, 
 
 G. A. R. 
 
 [From the Pawtuxet Valley Gleaner.] 
 
 Dr. John McGregor, for whom this post was 
 named, was born October 10, 1820, on the old 
 McGregor homestead near Greene village, 
 Coventry, R. I. He commenced the study 
 of medicine with Dr. William Hubbard, of 
 Crompton, R. I., and afterwards attended lec- 
 tnres and graduated at the New York Medical 
 College. After practising two years at his old 
 home, he came to Phenix, and followed his 
 profession here five or six } 7 ears. During his 
 stay here he was married to Miss Emily 
 P. Ames, a daughter of the late William C. 
 Ames. He subsequently moved to Thompson 
 Hill, Conn., to take the place of Dr. Bowen,
 
 124 McGREGOU POST, NO. 14, 
 
 one of the most skillful surgeons and physi- 
 cians in eastern Connecticut. 
 
 In 186] he was appointed surgeon of the 
 3d Connecticut regiment, by Gov. Bucking- 
 ham, lie was taken prisoner at the first bat- 
 tle of Bull Run, and was imprisoned first in 
 Libby Prison, Richmond; from there he was 
 sent to Charleston, S. C, Jail ; thence to ( Jastle 
 Pinckney, then to Columbia, in the same 
 state; then back again to Libby; thence to 
 Salisbury, 1ST. C. ; and finally he was taken in 
 his weakened condition and left alone on the 
 banks of the James river, without food, and 
 almost naked. The second day he signalled a 
 passing Federal steamboat, and was taken on 
 board. He was 14 months in these prisons, 
 and was reduced in weight from 220 to 145 
 pounds. 
 
 After returning home he was elected to the 
 Connecticut kSenate. But his health was so 
 much impaired that he could not endure the 
 long country rides necessary in the practice 
 of his profession, and he removed to Provi- 
 dence. Nov. 4th, 1867, he was run over by 
 the cars on Dyer street, in that city, and his
 
 G. A. R. 125 
 
 right arm so badly crushed that amputation 
 was necessary. He did not survive the opera- 
 tion. His remains were brought here, and rest 
 beneath a handsome granite monument in a 
 cemetery on Parker Hill, whither the veterans 
 make an annual pilgrimage on Memorial Day. 
 
 McGregor Post, ~No. 8, was formed here 
 soon after the Avar, but died after an enfeebled 
 existence of five or six years. The memories 
 of the Avar were fresh then, and returned sol- 
 diers did not care to be reminded of army days, 
 so that although some twenty-five or thirty 
 names were upon the roll at one time, it was 
 difficult to secure the attendance of enough 
 members to conduct the proceedings of the 
 meeting. 
 
 The present lodge, McGregor Post, ^o. 14, 
 starts under more favorable auspices. The 
 opening meetings have been well attended. 
 The charter members, with their army record, 
 are as folloAvs: 
 
 William A. Chappelle AA T as a corporal in 
 Co. H., 1st P. I. Cavalry, re-enlisting the 7th 
 of November, 1861, and being discharged by 
 reason of disability, May 17, 1862.
 
 126 McGREGOU POST, NO. 14, 
 
 John Bonner was a private in Co. G., 2nd 
 N. H. Infantry, in which he enlisted May 21, 
 1861, and from which he was discharged June 
 21, 1861, by reason of expiration of service. 
 
 Albert II. Johnson was a private in Co. II., 
 14th U. S. Infantry, in which he enlisted July 
 19, 18(51, and from which he was discharged 
 July 19, 1864. He re-enlisted in Co. A., 12th 
 U. 8. Infantry, November 29, 18(57, and served 
 a second three years. 
 
 George W. Covell served as a private in 
 Co. E., 1st R. I. Light Artillery, from Sep- 
 tember, 1861, to January 7, 18(53, he being 
 discharged for disability. He again enlisted 
 January 26, 1864, in Co. H., 7th E. I. Infantry, 
 and was discharged therefrom July 13, 1865, 
 at the close of the war. 
 
 M. A. Arnold was a private in Co. A., 9th 
 IN". Y. Cavalry, and served from September 20, 
 1861, to December 20, 18(53. He then re- 
 enlisted in the same company, and served as a 
 corporal until the 17th of July, 1865. 
 
 Josiah B. Bowditch enlisted as a private in 
 Co. D., 1st Yt. Infantry, April 20, 1861, and 
 served till August 17, 1861, it being a three
 
 G. A. R. 127 
 
 months regiment. He re-enlisted May 29, 
 18(52, in the 9th Yt. Infantry, and served till 
 June 24, 1865. 
 
 William H. Hopkins served as private in 
 Co. F., 2nd R. I. Infantry, from November 23, 
 1864, to July 13, 1865. 
 
 Oliver P. Brown served from June 5, 1861, 
 as private in Co. H., 2nd R. I. Infantry, until 
 June 5, 1864. 
 
 Albert S. Luther served as private in Co. E., 
 3d R. I. Heavy Artillery, from August 21, 
 1861, to August 31, 1864, and re-enlisted in 
 Hancock's Veteran Corps, December, 1864, 
 serving till September, 1865. 
 
 Thomas M. Holden served as a private in 
 the 17th 111. Cavalry, from September 2, 1864, 
 till May 22, 1865. 
 
 Rufus H. Xorthup enlisted as private in the 
 9th R. I. Infantry, May 26, 1862, for three 
 months, and served till September 2, 1862. 
 
 Henry King served as assistant surgeon of 
 the 9th R. I. (three months) Infantry, from 
 September 2, 1862, till December 2, 1862. 
 
 John W. Hollihan served as a private in 
 Co. E., 1st R. I. Artillery, from September 13,
 
 128 McGREGOl? POST, NO. 14, 
 
 1861, till the 3d of October, 1864. 
 
 Rhodes J. Colvin served as a private in Co. 
 E., 65th N. Y. Infantry, from August 13, 1861, 
 to December 20, 1863. He again enlisted in 
 the 3d N. Y. Battery, December 20, 1863, and 
 was discharged February 20, 1804, by reason 
 of wounds received in action in front of Peters- 
 burg. 
 
 James T. Smith served as a private in Co. 
 K., 7th E. I. Infantry, from August 8, 1861, 
 till June 9, 1805. 
 
 John E. Sweet served as a private in the 
 2nd E. I. Infantry, from June 5, 1801, till June 
 17, 1804. 
 
 Elisha Gr. Tew enlisted as a private in the 
 12th E. I. Infantry, September 25, 1802, and 
 served till July 29, 1803. 
 
 E. C. Capwell enlisted as a private in Co. 
 A., 1st E. I. Cavalry, August 8, 1802, was 
 made hospital steward, and was discharged 
 June 0, 1805. 
 
 William Carter enlisted as a private in Co. 
 E., 4th E. I. Infantry, September 10, 1801, and 
 was discharged by reason of disability, October 
 10, 1802.
 
 G. A. R. 129 
 
 Frank M. Tucker served in the 1st R. I. 
 Light Artillery, from September 4, 1861, till 
 January 30, 1864. He re-enlisted in the same 
 command, January 31, 1864, and served as a 
 sergeant till July 16, 1865. 
 
 Arnold Lawton served in Co. F. 4th R. I. 
 Infantry, from September 17, 1861, till March 
 31, 1864. 
 
 Elisha R. Watson enlisted in Co. D., 4th 
 R. I. Infantry, August 5, 1862, and served as 
 private till June 4, 1865. 
 
 Nathan Potter, Jr. served in the Signal 
 Corps, from May 13, 1864, till September 5, 
 1865.
 
 EXTRACTS FROM 
 
 THE 
 
 WINDHAM COUNTY TRANSCRIPT, 
 
 AUGUST 1, 1861. 
 
 [ Correspondence of the Transcript.] 
 
 Washington, D. C, July 26, '61. 
 Dear Sir: — You are already informed of 
 the great fight, victory, and ignominious 
 retreat last Sunday. I have not the time to 
 write a description of the affair, and if I 
 attempted to do so my pen would fail in the 
 attempt. I passed the Sabbath, by invitation, 
 at the house of the Hon. Amos Kendall, when 
 we distinctly heard the cannonading, and up 
 to 9 o'clock at night no unfavorable news 
 reached us, but on the contrary, despatches 
 were received stating we had won the day, 
 which proves to be true, up to about 5 o'clock, 
 when the teamsters took fright and commenced 
 a stampede. This was soon communicated
 
 1$2 EXTRACTS FROM THE 
 
 to the volunteers. At the same time an incon- 
 siderate order to fall back was made, when 
 some of the men behaved badly, though the 
 main body fell back in good order. 
 
 The Connecticut Regiments behaved well, 
 both in the fight and retreat, saving all their 
 own baggage and equipment and that of four 
 other Regiments besides. — The loss of our 
 three Regiments is thought to be less than 100 
 men in killed, wounded and missing, among 
 whom we have to record Dr. McGregor, Sur- 
 geon of the Third Regiment, supposed to be 
 a prisoner, and James F. Wilkinson, about 
 whom nothing has been heard from since the 
 retreat. 
 
 The last known of Dr. McGregor, he was 
 in the hospital doing his duty, and although 
 advised to run it seems he preferred not to 
 leave the poor wounded men, even to save him- 
 self. All honor to such heroism. 
 
 The 1st Connecticut Regiment started for 
 home last night ; and here let me say a word 
 about the Captain of the 1st company, (I. R. 
 Hawley, Esq.) who instead of being at the 
 hotels, where too many officers were, I found
 
 WIXDHAM COUNTY TRANSCRIPT. 133 
 
 him with his own men, sharing with them all 
 the hardships of the clay, and for this devotion 
 to their interests the men all love him. Always 
 esteemed, he is now loved a thousand fold 
 more than before. We need more snch men 
 as Capt. Hawley. 
 
 The troops are pouring in here from the 
 Xorth, and we shall soon see 150,000 men here 
 under McClellan, who, yon may be assured, 
 will make the rebels dance. 
 
 When I learn more definitely about Dr. 
 McGregor and Mr. Wilkinson I will inform 
 yon. In great haste, 
 
 C. Blackmar. 
 
 Of our friend, Dr. McGregor, over whose 
 fate some uncertainty hangs, we cannot think 
 or write, save as of one who will in time be 
 returned to us. If a prisoner, his professional 
 position in the army would secure him merci- 
 ful treatment from any enemy raised above the 
 lowest dregs of barbarism — and we would not, 
 until compelled by the most conclusive evi- 
 dence, class the Southern rebels below the 
 Comanche Indians. We know that he came
 
 134 EXTRACTS PROM THE 
 
 out unharmed from the shock of battle, and 
 we cannot think that he has been murdered 
 while engaged in the performance of his du- 
 ties. When last seen he was busy ministering 
 to the wants and alleviating the sufferings of 
 the wounded, with that kindness, coolness and 
 skill which has made him so popular arnong 
 us. He was ''staying with the boys," nobly 
 and fearlessly performing his duty; and we 
 cannot but hope that he may live to exercise, 
 either in private or military service, that pro- 
 fessional skill, and to manifest those qualities 
 of mind and heart that make him so popular 
 with his patients, and that so fit him to fill with 
 advantage to the State, and with credit to him- 
 self, the responsible office of Surgeon in the 
 army. 
 
 Dr. McGregor. — From the latest reports 
 from the Surgeon of the Third Regiment it 
 appears that Dr. McGregor was not killed, but 
 is a prisoner to the rebels. The neAvs of Tues- 
 day states that the hospitals were not burned, 
 and that a dozen Surgeons of the Federal army 
 are at Manassas. With every person in Wind-
 
 WINDHAM COUXTY TRANSCRIPT. 135 
 
 ham Comity, we experienced a glow of pride 
 at the heroic record of the conduct of the noble 
 doctor. He was told that all was lost, and he 
 must leave the field to save his life, but the 
 impulses of a generous, humane heart were 
 stronger than the call of self-preservation, and 
 he remained at his post of duty, soothing the 
 pains of the wounded and dying. Such self- 
 abnegation gilds the dark cloud of our tempo- 
 rary defeat with rays of light from heaven. 
 An appreciating community hope to welcome 
 him again to his old home, where a grateful 
 people will honor the name of McGregor for- 
 ever.
 
 SOCIETY 
 
 OF 
 
 UNION WAR PRISONERS. 
 
 Among the mementoes of the war, which 
 Dr. McGregor had at the time he left the 
 scenes of earth, to explore that unknown conn- 
 try from which no traveller returns, is a picture 
 which the doctor cherished to an extreme. To 
 give the reader an idea of this picture, I will 
 go hack to a scene which took place in Charles- 
 ton Jail, on December 31, 1861. At this time 
 the jail and jail-yard were filled with men who 
 had left their homes, their families, and almost 
 everything which makes life desirable, to 
 defend and uphold the flag of onr nation; that 
 flag which cost onr patriot forefathers so much 
 blood and suffering; a flag which they had left
 
 138 SOCIETY OF 
 
 untarnished to our keeping, and which we had 
 sworn to protect and cherish. The thought 
 becomes almost unbearable, when our minds 
 go back to December 31, 1861, and resurrect 
 the scenes which were then taking place in 
 that loathsome prison. Two hundred of our 
 most valiant and patriotic men were huddled 
 together within those walls. Men of unblem- 
 ished character, whose minds soared above 
 rebellion, whose intellects were of the highest 
 order, were suffering for want of bread and 
 many of the necessaries which sustain life. 
 Men who would never knowingly do a wrong 
 thing, and whose minds were as unbending as 
 the forest oak, were by fever and famine 
 brought to a premature grave. But amid all 
 their sufferings and hardships, their minds 
 were at work. You can imprison the body, 
 but you cannot confine the mind within prison 
 walls. The mind must be free, or it will desert 
 its throne. Many of our noble soldier boys 
 became idiotic, and died by being deprived of 
 food and water while in those prisons. The 
 doctor knew that the mind must be employed 
 in some way, to keep it from their terrible sit-
 
 UXIOX WAR PRISONERS. 139 
 
 nation, or death would ensue; so he went to 
 work and formed a secret organization with 
 these brother prisoners. It was more for the 
 purpose of keeping their minds from their suf- 
 ferings than anything else, and I have heard 
 him say that he believed that it saved his own 
 life and many other lives. 
 
 Among those prisoners was an artist of the 
 highest reputation. As they were moved from 
 one prison to another, he would sketch every- 
 thing within his view appertaining to the 
 prisons. In some mysterious way his sketch- 
 ings found their way within our lines, and 
 were forwarded to Washington. President 
 Lincoln by some means or other got hold of 
 them. He had them enlarged, and they made 
 a very interesting picture for those who 
 belonged to that organization which was 
 formed at Charleston Jail, and who were 
 lucky enough to get once more within our 
 lines. 
 
 I will give the reader a description of this 
 picture. It is two feet, eight inches wide, and 
 three feet long. It represents the different 
 prisons and their surroundings, which those
 
 140 SOCIETY OF 
 
 men were in who. belonged to that organiza- 
 tion. In the left hand corner at the top stands 
 Logan's tobacco factory in the city of Rich- 
 mond, better known by our Northern soldiers 
 by the name of Libby Prison. In the opposite 
 corner of the picture stands the jail at Colum- 
 bia, S. C, with the jail-yards in view. In the 
 center stands Castle Pinckney, S. C. The 
 picture is surrounded by a massive chain. 
 Over this prison in large type is the following: 
 "Union War Prisoners Association." On the 
 left of the center picture stands 8. C. Mill 
 Prison, Salisbury; and on the right another 
 view of the same prison is represented. The 
 stagnant pool from which our poor boys got 
 water to quench their thirst, is in one corner 
 of the yard. It makes one feel sad to look at 
 this picture, and remember how much suffering 
 there was in that prison and pen, in the time 
 of the war. At the bottom of the picture 
 stands the City Jail, Charleston, S. C. On the 
 right of the jail and in the corner is a view of 
 the prison-yard, and in the left hand corner is 
 another view. Under the City Jail is the fol- 
 lowing in large type: "Organized in Charles-
 
 UNION WAR PRISOXERS. 141 
 
 ton Jail, December 31, 1861." 
 
 A massive chain encircles this picture, with 
 crossed chains running from one side to the 
 other, denoting that our boys were thoroughly 
 guarded in those prisons. Between the views 
 of those different prisons, are columns contain- 
 ing the autographs of the prisoners who 
 belonged to that wonderful organization. I 
 will give the names and rank as they appear 
 upon the picture. I will commence with the 
 left hand column, which extends from Libby 
 Prison, which is situated in the top and left 
 hand corner of the picture, and continues down 
 until it comes to the view in the left hand cor- 
 ner at the bottom. Then I will continue col- 
 umn after column, until I come to the last 
 name, which will be situated in the right hand 
 corner at the bottom. 
 
 William H. Clark, 
 
 2nd Lieut. Comp. G. 4th Me. Vols. 
 
 S. R. Kittredge, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 2nd Me. Vols. 
 
 Mauniel Albaugh, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 1st Md. Vols.
 
 142 SOCIETY OF 
 
 John Knoppel, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 Virgil T. Mercer, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 Robert N"eely, 
 
 2nd, Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 David L. Stanton, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 J. C. Gregg, 
 
 Tel-Op. Hooker's Div. 
 
 A. M. Underbill, 
 
 1st Lieut. 11th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Harry L. Perrin, 
 
 H. S. 11th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Arnold Rummer, 
 
 1st Lieut. 68th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Charles Wilatus, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 8th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Frd. Mosebach, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 7th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Albert Brands, 
 
 H. S. G8th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Anton o. Gfrorner, 
 
 1st Lieut. 54th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 August Erhardt, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 54th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Thos. S. Hamblin, 
 
 1st Lieut. 38th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 C. T. Gardner, 
 
 1st Lieut, 100th N. Y. Vols.
 
 UNION WAR PRISONERS. 143 
 
 Timothy Lynch, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 100th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 John Marses, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 3d N. Y. Cav. 
 
 E. M. Raworth, 
 
 Serg*t Maj. 8th 111. Cav. 
 
 B. L. Chamberlain, 
 
 Qt. M'r 8th 111. Cav. 
 
 H. G. Lumbard, 
 
 Adjt. 8th 111. Cav. 
 
 G. B. Kenniston, 
 
 1st Lieut. 5th Me. Vols. 
 
 John K. Skiemer, Jr., 
 
 1st Lieut. 2nd Me. Vols. 
 
 J. Bostwick Colony, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 F. M. Collier, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 Win. E. George, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 C. R. Gillingham, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 Edward J. Rice, 
 
 1st Lieut, oth Conn. Vols. 
 
 Chas. Walter, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st Conn. Vols. 
 
 John Downey, 
 
 Capt. 11th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Ben. Price, 
 
 Capt, 70th N. Y. Vols.
 
 144 SOCIETY OF 
 
 A. A. C. Williams, 
 
 Asst Surtf. IstN. Y. Art. 
 
 Ros. A. Fish, 
 
 Capt. 32nd N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Jas. Decatur Potter, 
 
 Maj. 38th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 A. S. Cassidv, 
 
 Maj. 93d X. Y. Vols. 
 
 L. Cx. Camp, 
 
 Capt. 68th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Anton Lehner, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 8th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Oscar v. Hermgon, 
 
 1st Lieut. Comp. E. 7th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Henry Niemann, 
 
 Comm. 29th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 William Fay, 
 
 1st Lieut. 25th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Levi Smith, 
 
 1st Lieut. 96th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 C. W. Tillotson, 
 
 1st Lieut. 99th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 M. Bailey, 
 
 Capt. 100th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 John A. Newell, 
 
 1st Lieut. 100th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Abram H. Hasbrouck, 
 
 Adjt. 5th N. Y. Car. 
 
 John W. Dempsey, 
 
 1st Lieut. 2nd N. Y. S. M.
 
 UNIOX WAR PRISONERS. 145 
 
 Samuel Irwin, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 2nd N. Y. S. M. 
 
 F. E. Worcester, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 71st N. Y. S. M. 
 
 Geo. W. Caleff, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 11th Mass. Vols. 
 
 Leonard Gordon, 
 
 Capt, 11th Mass. Vols. 
 
 W. C. Nickels, 
 
 Comm'd Brig. B. K. Eaton. 
 
 Wm. MilhoiLs, 
 
 Capt. 1st Va. Vols. 
 
 Timothy Swan, 
 
 1st Lieut. Comp. A. 7th Me. Vols. 
 
 James S. Baer, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 B. H. Schley, 
 
 Capt. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 G. W. Kugler, 
 
 Capt. 1st Md. Vols. 
 
 Y. E. Von Koerber, 
 
 Capt. 1st Md. Cav. 
 
 James A. Betts, 
 
 Capt. 5th Conn. Vols. 
 
 Hiram Eddy, 
 
 Capt. 2nd Conn. Vols. 
 
 Geo. Webb Dodge, 
 
 Chap'l 11th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 C. C. Gray, 
 
 Ass't Surg. U. S. A.
 
 146 SOCIETY OF 
 
 Manuel C. Ca listen, 
 
 1st Lieut, 19th Inf. U. S. A. 
 
 "W. F. Dushane, 
 
 Lt. Col. 1st. Md. Vols. 
 
 Percy Wyndham, 
 
 Col. 1st N. J. Cav. 
 John S. Crocker, 
 
 Col. 93d N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Lew Benedict, Jr., 
 
 Lt, Col. 73d N. Y Vols. 
 
 Otto Botticher, 
 
 Capt. G8th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Jos. Neustaedser, 
 
 Qt. M'r 8th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 A. H. Drake, 
 
 Capt. 33d N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Martin Willis, 
 
 Capt. 74th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 B. F. Harris, 
 
 Capt. 25th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 J. H. Nichols, 
 
 Capt. 96th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 Thomas Y. Baker, 
 
 Capt. 87th N. Y. Vols. 
 
 J. W. Dickinson, 
 
 Capt. 8th N. Y. Cav. 
 
 Amos H. White, 
 
 Capt. 5th N. Y. Cav. 
 
 James A. Farrish, 
 
 Capt. 79th N. Y. S. M.
 
 UNION WAR PRISONERS. 147 
 
 Wm. Mandon, 
 
 Capt. 79th N. Y. S. M. 
 
 John Whyte, 
 
 1st Lieut. 79th N. Y. S. M. 
 
 P. J. Hargous, 
 
 M'rs Mate U. S. N. 
 
 J. T. Morrill, 
 
 Comni'd St. Osceola. 
 
 John McGregor, 
 
 Surg. 3d Conn. Vols. 
 
 J. D. Cruttenden, 
 
 A. Q. M. of Vols. 
 
 J. Ford Kent, 
 
 1st Lieut. 3d Inf. U. S. A. 
 
 J. Sogdes, 
 
 Maj. 1st Art. U. S. A. 
 
 O. B. Willcox, 
 
 Col. 1st Mich. Vols. 
 
 Michael Corcoran, 
 
 Col. 69th N. Y. S. M. 
 
 Geo. W. ]^eff, 
 
 Lt, Col. 2nd Ky. Inf. 
 
 Tim. J. Mearo, 
 
 Capt. 42nd N. Y. Vols. 
 
 John B. Hoffman, 
 
 Ass't. Surg. U. S. A. 
 
 G. H. Bean, 
 
 Capt. 1st Vt. Cav. 
 
 Mort Griffin, 
 
 Capt. 8th N. Y. S. M.
 
 148 SOCIETY OF 
 
 Levi S. Stockwell, 
 
 Pay Ms'r U. S. N. 
 
 Chas. II. Baker, U. S. ST., 
 
 Chief Knu. U. S. N. 
 
 L. H. Stone, 
 
 Surg. u. s. a. 
 
 Charles B. Penrose, 
 
 C. S. U. S. Vols. 
 
 D. S. Gordon, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 2nd Drai?. V. S. A. 
 
 S. Bowman, 
 
 Lieut. Col. 8th Pa. Vols. 
 
 John K. Murphy, 
 
 Col. 29th Pa. Vols. 
 
 W. E. Woodruff, 
 
 Col. 2nd Ky. Inf. 
 
 R. A. Constable, 
 
 Lt. Col. 75th O. Vols. 
 
 George Austin, 
 
 Capt. 2nd Ky. Inf. 
 
 George D. Sloenm, 
 
 Ass't Surg. U. S. N. 
 
 John T. Drew, 
 
 Capt. 2nd Vt. Vols. 
 
 J. P. Melvor, 
 
 Capt. 69th N. Y. S. M. 
 
 John Bagley, 
 
 1st Lieut. 69th N. Y. S. M. 
 
 Edw'd Connelly, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 69th N. Y. S. M.
 
 UNION WAR PRISONERS. 149 
 
 James Gannon, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 69th N. Y. S. M. 
 
 E. Giddings, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 3d Wis. Vols. 
 
 Gnstavns Hammer, 
 
 Capt. 3d Wis. Vols. 
 
 John J. Garvin, 
 
 Comm'd St. Union. 
 
 John H. Shohwin, 
 
 Capt. 1st N. Y. Cav. 
 
 Henry E. Clark, 
 
 Capt. 1st N. J. Cav. 
 
 W. H. Withington, 
 
 Capt. 1st Mich. Vols. 
 
 W. E. Davis, 
 
 Capt. 27th Ind. Vols. 
 
 Wm. D. Richards, 
 
 Capt. 29th Pa. Vols. 
 
 Wm. Richards, Jr., 
 
 Capt. 29th Pa. Vols. 
 
 Cyriis Strons, 
 
 Capt. 46th Pa. Vols. 
 
 Lonis Schreiner, 
 
 Chap'l 27th Pa. Vols. 
 
 W. E. Stockton, 
 
 Chap'l 61st Pa. Vols. 
 
 A. Davidson, 
 
 Capt. 11th Pa. Cav. 
 
 J. W. DeFord, 
 
 1st Lieut. Sig. Cr.
 
 150 SOCIETY OF 
 
 (r. W Davison. 
 
 ('apt. 61st Pa. Vols. 
 
 Geo. F. Smith, 
 
 Maj. 61st Pa. Vols. 
 
 Wm. L. Curry, 
 
 Lt, Col. 106th Pa. Vols 
 
 Thos. Clark, 
 
 Lt. Col. 29th 0. Vols. 
 
 Thos. Cox, Jr., 
 
 Capt. 1st Ky. Inf. 
 
 J. W. Sprague, 
 
 Capt. 7th 0. Vols. 
 
 G. W. Shurtleff, 
 
 Capt. 7th O. Vols. 
 
 R. L. Kilpatriek, 
 
 Capt. 5th O. Vols. 
 
 II. E. Symmes, 
 
 Capt. oth 0. Vols. 
 
 James Beuse, 
 
 Capt. 6th 0. Vols. 
 
 Edw'd Hayes, 
 
 Capt. 29th 0. Vols. 
 
 E. B. Smith, 
 
 Capt. 29th 0. Vols. 
 
 David E. Hurlburt, 
 
 Capt. 29th 0. Vols. 
 
 Thos. O. Buxton, 
 
 Capt. 66th 0. Vols. ' 
 
 J. G. Palmer, 
 
 Capt. 66th O. Vols.
 
 UNION WAE PRISONERS. 151 
 
 M. L. Dempcy, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 66th 0. Vols. 
 
 J. W. Watkins, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 0. Vols. 
 
 II. C. Spencer, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 3d Wis. Vols. 
 
 Isaac M. Church, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 2nd R. I. Vols. 
 
 William Luce, 
 
 Civ. Eng. 
 
 Richard H. Lee, 
 
 Capt. 6th N. J. Vols. 
 
 A. E. Welch, 
 
 1st Lieut, 1st Minn. Vols. 
 
 J. P. C. Emmons, 
 
 Capt. 1st Mich. Car. 
 
 D. Van Buslrirk, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 27th Ind. Vols. 
 
 James C. Linton, 
 
 1st Lieut, 20th Vols. 
 
 Geo. E. Johnson, 
 
 1st Lieut. 29th Pa. Vols. 
 
 M. McCarter, 
 
 1st Lieut. 93d Pa. Vols. 
 
 Sam. Cuspaden, 
 
 1st Lieut. 52nd Pa. Vols. 
 
 Wm. T. Baum, 
 
 1st Lieut. 26th Pa. Vols. 
 
 James E. Fleming, 
 
 1st Lieut. 11th Pa. Cav.
 
 152 SOCIETY OF 
 
 A. N. Davis, 
 
 Capt. 3d Ky. Cav. 
 
 C. C. Keen, 
 
 1st Lieut, oth Ky. Cav. 
 
 Arthur T. Wilcox, 
 
 1st Lieut. 7th <>. Vols. 
 
 William N. Dick, 
 
 1st Lieut. 5th <>. Vols. 
 
 J. B. King, 
 
 1st Lieut. 1st O. Art. 
 
 Charles Gilman, 
 
 2nd Lieut. Oth (). Vols. 
 
 H. Gregon, 
 
 1st Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 
 
 William Neil, 
 
 1st Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 
 
 E. B. Woodbury, 
 
 1st Lieut. 29th 0. Vols. 
 
 B. F. Ganson, 
 
 1st Lieut. 66th 0. Vols. 
 
 W. H. Kinley, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 6th N. J. Vols. 
 
 Frank A. Parker, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 1st Cal. Vols. 
 
 Andrew Luke, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 7th Ind. Vols. 
 
 Joseph Maguigin, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 29th Pa. Vols. 
 
 J. H. Goldsmith, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 29th Pa. Vols.
 
 UNION WAR PRISONERS. 153 
 
 J. B. Hutchison, 
 
 2nd Lieut, loth Pa. Vols. 
 
 J. Irwin "Nerm, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 28th Pa. Vols. 
 
 E. M. Croll, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 104th Pa. Vols. 
 
 Andrew B. Wells, 
 
 1st Lieut. 8th Pa. Car. 
 
 James Farran, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 1st Ky. Inf. 
 
 Jno. L. Walters, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 3d Ky. Car. 
 
 James Timmous, 
 
 2nd Lieut, 5th O. Vols. 
 
 E. E. Fisher, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 5th O. Vols. 
 
 Chas. H. Robinson, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 1st 0. Art. 
 
 F. S. Schieffer, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 6th O. Vols. 
 
 Thos. W. Ifash, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 
 
 Andrew Wilson, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 29th O. Vols. 
 
 Carey H. Russell, 
 
 2nd Lieut. 29th 0. Vols. 
 
 W. A. Sampson, 
 
 2nd Lieut, OGth O. Vols.
 
 154 SOCIETY OF 
 
 I think there were two objects in forming 
 this organization. The first was to keep their 
 minds from their sufferings^ and the second 
 was, that, in ease onr army should attempt to 
 rescue them, they might be prepared to act in 
 concert. Many of them clung to hope as the 
 child clings to the parent when they pass oyer 
 some terrible place. Others became despon- 
 dent, sunk beneath the vile waves of destitution 
 and were lost. When hope vanished from their 
 view, they were soon numbered with the dead. 
 
 This picture was presented to the doctor by 
 President Lincoln or Secretary Stanton, I am 
 not sure which. I suppose that each of the 
 other prisoners who belonged to that organiza- 
 tion, and who lived to come home, had one pre- 
 sented to him. This, with other war pictures, 
 hang's in one of the rooms at the doctor's old 
 homestead. It is viewed by many with much 
 interest. Very often, when this picture is 
 viewed by those who were in the army, point- 
 ing to some name, they will say, ff I knew him. 
 He was in our regiment. " or, ff He was our 
 captain.' 1 or, ff He was taken prisoner at such 
 a battle." Those who lived to come home
 
 FXTOX WAR PRISONERS. 155 
 
 were scattered from Maine to the most west- 
 ern states, so that in all human probability, 
 there were not many of them who ever met 
 each other after they came home. It is very 
 probable that the most of them have, before this 
 time, crossed the dark river of death, to explore 
 that country where we hope there will be no 
 rebellions or wars to agitate the mind. A\ nile 
 the survivors of the soldiers who rallied arpund 
 our flag and kept it from being- tarnished, — 
 those who remain on this side of the river 
 which divides this from that undiscovered 
 country, — -have their reunions, the question 
 arises with some, AVill those poor soldiers who 
 have passed from earth have their reunions in 
 eternity? And another question often arises. 
 Do we, as a people, sympathize as much as we 
 ought with the maimed soldiers who sacrificed 
 so much for their country's sake, who lost their 
 limbs while protecting the hag which has so 
 long waved over one of the best and most 
 noble countries known on this earth? These 
 are questions which should be brought home 
 and considered.
 
 156 
 
 Time's a pendulum ever swinging, 
 
 Backward, forward, to and fro; 
 In its changes ever bringing, 
 
 Mingled scenes of joy and woe ! 
 Life is like the tides of ocean, 
 
 One unceasing ebb and flow, 
 Youth advancing, age returning. 
 
 Generations come and go. 
 Names remain, but things are changeful, 
 
 Are not still what they appear. 
 In the name the same, this day we rally 
 
 But where are those who once were here? 
 Gone to dwell 'mid scenes supernal, 
 
 Gone beyond the world of tears; 
 Gone to realms un dimmed, eternal. 
 
 Gone beyond the flight of years. 
 
 Memory bless them. Twine we garlands 
 Round their graves, of festal flowers ; 
 
 Requiems wail in tearful numbers. 
 While advance the joyous hours. 
 
 The war commenced April 12, 1861, witli 
 the bombardment of Fort Sumter. It virtually 
 ended with the surrender of Gen. Johnston 
 and his army, April 26, 1865, at Durham Sta- 
 tion, Gen. Lee and his army having surren- 
 dered several weeks previously. 

 
 McGregor post, g. a. r., 
 
 DAXIELSOXYILLE, CONK 
 
 After the tidal wave of rebellion had been 
 broken, and that destructive element subdued, 
 and the remaining- veterans had returned to 
 their homes, Grand Army Posts were formed 
 in different places throughout the Northern 
 states. One of these posts was formed in the 
 beautiful borough of Danielsonville, Conn. It 
 was named after Dr. John McGregor, and 
 called McGregor Post. This showed the 
 esteem the veterans had for him. A full his- 
 tory of this Post would be very interesting to 
 many, but I have not the means at hand to 
 give it, so I will content myself by saying that 
 the lodge room is in keeping with the object,
 
 158 McGREGOH POST, <t. A. K., 
 
 and adorned with many mementoes of the war. 
 
 At this time the memories of the war were 
 fresh, and the returned soldiers seemed to 
 enjoy themselves by assembling together and 
 talking about the scenes which they passed 
 through during that terrible war. Their blood 
 would be warmed and quickened when the 
 hand played some tune which they had heard 
 played when they were about to make a des- 
 perate charge upon those rebels; and again 
 the soft murmurings of the beautiful Quinne- 
 baug river would soothe their feelings, as it 
 flowed past their lodge on its way to the grave 
 of Uncas, the once noted chieftain of the Quin- 
 nebaug Valley. 
 
 These meetings must be pleasant in some 
 respects, and very sad in other respects. It 
 must be pleasant for those soldiers to meet 
 and clasp hands with each other once more on 
 earth, but when their minds turn back to those 
 terrible scenes on those battle fields, they must 
 be filled with sadness. iSTo doubt they are 
 willing to have the curtain drop to banish from 
 their memory those battle field scenes where 
 thousands of our noble young men went down 

 
 DAXIELSOXVILLE, CONST. 159 
 
 to rise no more on earth, where they bit the 
 earth, poured out their blood, and sacrificed 
 their lives for their country's sake. No doubt 
 many of those scenes often rise in view, but 
 we must hope that the cloud which appears so 
 dark may have a silver lining. 
 
 Time is silvering the locks of those who 
 remain to assemble at their lodge, and thinning 
 the ranks of those who suffered the hardships 
 and privations of that war, but there is one 
 consoling thought which should stimulate the 
 remaining comrades, and that is this — there 
 will be a reunion of those comrades on the 
 other side of the dark river of death, away 
 from the scenes of war and suffering, away 
 from the fever and the famine, away from dis- 
 cord and contention, where all may go and 
 enjoy the songs of the angels and the presence 
 of our Heavenly Father, where everything will 
 he pure and holy, in that mellow light reflected 
 from the throne of God. Most of their old 
 commanders have vanished from our sight, to 
 be seen no more on earth; and the time is not 
 far distant when those who took a part in sav- 
 ing our country from disgrace, will be men
 
 1()0 m<(;kk<;oi; post, <r. a. R., 
 
 who were. Their history will stand high on 
 the record of fame, and go down to posterity 
 as the sun goes down beyond the western hills, 
 leaving a beautiful sunset. . Every young man 
 of to-day should be familiar with the history of 
 those men, and should mould Ids character after 
 their example. 
 
 When that time arrives when the last veteran 
 of our last war has passed from earth to join 
 his comrades who passed away amid the thun- 
 der and smoke of battle, and those who sur- 
 vived the shock of that terrible Avar to hear 
 victory proclaimed throughout our country, 
 then, and not until then, can our history be 
 complete concerning that war; for every man 
 has a history, and there is nothing complete 
 where there is any part left out. Then the 
 Goddess of Liberty may truly say, " I have 
 survived those patriots who established my 
 throne and protected me with their blood and 
 treasure for seventy-eight long years, and I 
 have also survived all of those valiant young 
 men who came to my assistance when the flag' 
 was assailed which I have waved so long over 
 one of the most erlorious nations on the earth.
 
 DAXIELSOXVILLE, COXX. 161 
 
 and still my throne stands as firm as the 
 adamantine rock, and the old flag is untar- 
 nished, with each and every star glittering in 
 the sunlight of prosperity." 
 
 While I deeply mourn for those who have 
 acted a noble part, and gone to assemble 
 around a more glorious throne, the sadness is 
 somewhat diminished by a ray of light break- 
 ing through the dark clond, and, by its bright- 
 ness, saying, fr Your throne is safe, and will 
 ever be so as long as the spirit of our fore- 
 fathers exists in those who have the manage- 
 ment of our government." May it stand until 
 the archangel, with one foot upon the sea and 
 the other upon the land, shall proclaim that 
 time is no more. Then may the laurel wreath 
 which encircles the flag of our nation be found 
 unremoved, and in all of its freshness. This 
 throne has stood as a sentinel over this nation 
 for more than one hundred years. It has seen 
 former generations rise, flourish, and pass away 
 as if they had never existed. 
 
 Here may be seen the ruins of an Indian 
 empire; and though they were the children of 
 the forest, and though they left no monuments
 
 162 m< <;i:k<;oi; post, a. A. R., 
 
 of sculpture, painting,'or poetry, yet great were 
 they in their fall, and sorrowful is the story of 
 their wrongs. They once had cities, but where 
 are they now? It is true they worshipped the 
 Great Spirit, and the genius of storm and dark- 
 ness. The sacred pages of revelation had 
 never been unrolled to them, and the gospel 
 of our Savior had never sounded in the ears 
 of the poor children of the forest. They heard 
 the voice of their Grod in the morning breeze; 
 they saw Him in the dark clouds that rose in 
 wrath from the west. Here they once lived 
 and loved. Here the council fire blazed and 
 the war-whoop echoed among their native hills. 
 But at 'length the white man from the east 
 came upon their shores. They yielded not 
 their empire tamely, but they could not stand 
 against the sons of light, and so they tied. 
 
 To-day America opens wide the gate and 
 smooths the way by which the aspiring youth 
 of our land may drink at the fountain of free- 
 dom, and if they will follow those who have 
 left in our keeping the greatest treasure on 
 earth, and who are beckoning us onward, the 
 dav is not far distant when the bar, the senate,
 
 DAXIELSOXVrLLE, COXX. 163 
 
 and the pulpit will re-echo the principles upon 
 which our government stands, and will draw 
 the eves of all learned men from beyond 
 Atlantic's waves to the growing' blessings of 
 the American republic. A noble feeling has 
 already been awakened throughout the Union. 
 Offerings from the treasury of almost every 
 state have already been laid on the altar, and 
 consecrated to the elevation of man. The 
 poet's muse, the orator's eloquence, and the 
 historian's pen, will erelong be employed on 
 nobler themes than even our majestic rivers, 
 matchless water-falls, interminable forest, or 
 smiling prairies — the cultivation of human 
 intellect, the elevation of the human mind 
 above all Grecian and all Roman fame. This 
 country is raising a monument that will last 
 when the names and the memories of thousands 
 of men and things that are now occupying a 
 large share of public notice shall have passed 
 into oblivion. The sparks of intelligence 
 which are scattered among us will kindle a 
 fire, which, if rightly consecrated, will give 
 stability to the altars of religion and liberty, 
 and shed a brisrhter halo around our national
 
 character than all the achievements of armies 
 or of navies. To these enlightened and noble 
 efforts, every patriot should bid God speed, 
 and, in the sphere in which he moves, second 
 the efforts to induce the rising hopes of onr 
 country to prepare themselves for the varied 
 duties that their country may require them to 
 discharge.
 
 THE DOCTOR'S PARENTS. 
 
 The writer, having neglected to give a short 
 account of Jeremiah McGregor, father of Dr. 
 John McGregor, in its proper place will give 
 it here. 
 
 In 1780, one hundred and six years ago, the 
 father of Dr. John McGregor was horn. 
 
 In 1800, he with fourteen others, was 
 employed by government, to survey and lay 
 out certain townships in the state of New 
 York. He was in the government employ 
 two years. At that time, fever and ague was 
 so prevalent in that section, that very few 
 could remain more than a short time. A 
 large portion of the state of New York was a 
 wilderness, inhabited only by Indians. The 
 Mohawks, the Tonawandas, and the Oneidas,
 
 !(>(> the doctor's 
 
 roamed through the interior. There were no 
 canals or railroads then. The usual mode of 
 emigration was to cany the family and house- 
 hold goods in canvas-covered wagons, drawn 
 by oxen. The toilsome journey was made 
 along rough roads, through dark forests, and 
 across rapid streams. Not a single state had 
 been formed out of the extensive region called 
 the North- West Territory, lying between the 
 Alleghany and the Rocky mountains. It was 
 at one time claimed by the French, under the 
 name of Louisiana. A large portion of this 
 rich country was the wide hunting ground of 
 the Indians. The celebrated Tecumseh was 
 the mighty chief and warrior farther west. 
 
 A man by the name of Elliot was the head 
 engineer; and many of his lines and plats are 
 referred to at this distant day. They surveyed 
 and platted the Holland Purchase, or what is 
 better known as Batavia, and another township 
 west of Saratoga. 
 
 After returning home, he assisted his father 
 in farming, and in the hotel business, until his 
 father gave up the business, when he continued 
 in the same line of business for over sixty long
 
 PAUEXTS. 1(57 
 
 years. . 
 
 In 1812, the war with England threw the 
 Country into excitement, and unsettled, to 
 some extent, its business. At that time, he 
 was colonel of the ninth regiment of militia. 
 The following was his commission from Gov. 
 Jones. 
 
 By his excellency, William Jones. Esq., Governor. Captain- 
 General, and Commander-in-Chief, of the State of Rhode Island 
 and Providence Plantations. 
 
 T<> Jeremiah McGregor, Esq. : Greeting, 
 
 You, the said Jeremiah 
 McGregor, having been elected by the General Assembly, at the 
 
 session on the first Wednesday of May instant, to the Office 
 of Colonel of the ninth Regiment of Militia in the State afore- 
 said, are hereby, in the Name of the State of Khode Island and 
 Providence Plantations, authorized, empowered and commis- 
 sioned, to exercise the Office of Colonel of the Regiment afore- 
 said, and to command and conduct the same, or any part thereof. 
 And in case of an Invasion, or Assault of a common Enemy, to 
 
 infest or disturb this State, you are to alarm and gather together 
 said Regiment under your Command, or such Part thereof as 
 yon shall deem sufficient; and therewith, to the utmost of your 
 Skill and Ability, you are to resist, expel and destroy them, in 
 order to preserve the Interest of the good Citizens of this State. 
 You are also to follow such Instructions and Orders as shall, 
 from Time to Time, be given forth, either by the General 
 Assembly, the Governor and General Council, or other your 
 Superior < >;licers. And for your so doing, this Commission shall
 
 L68 the doctor's 
 
 be your sufHcienl Warranl and Discharge. 
 
 Given under my Hand, and the Seal of the Stale, this Elev- 
 enth Day of May. in the Year of our Lord. One Thousand Eight 
 Hundred and Twelve, and in the Thirty-Sixth Year of indepen- 
 dence. 
 
 By his Excellency's Command. 
 
 William Jokes. 
 Samuel Eddy, Secretarv. 
 
 The following September i he was ordered 
 to call out his regiment, and wait for further 
 orders. He obeyed the order by calling" his 
 regiment out, on the plain just east of a hotel 
 located where the Coventry Asylum now 
 stands. At that time, it was expected that 
 the regiment would be called to Newport, but 
 on the second day orders came for the regi- 
 ment to be dismissed with the understanding 
 that they should hold themselves in readiness 
 at a minute's warning; but no further orders 
 came. The war after a while fizzled out; but 
 not until it had done much damage to onr 
 commerce, and disorganized many branches 
 of our business. For a long time, all of our 
 merchandise was transported from Boston to 
 New York, and vice versa, with ox teams. 
 Onr young men of to-day would think it quite
 
 PARENTS. 169 
 
 an undertaking to drive an ox team from Bos- 
 ton to New York and back; but at that time 
 
 we had young men who could, and were will- 
 ing- to do it. I have no doubt that we have 
 young men to-day, who, if it was. necessary, 
 would do it without murmuring, for the last 
 war demonstrated, beyond a doubt, that our 
 young men were willing to saerifiee as much 
 as any young men of any nation, or at any 
 period. 
 
 Iii 1831, the doctor's father took doAvn the 
 old sign which had swung before the old hotel 
 for fifty long years; and when he raised it 
 again it had been repainted, and so wonder- 
 fully changed that mairy of the beholders w^ere 
 astonished. The portrait of Washington had 
 been changed for the picture of a young and 
 noble looking horse, trampling beneath his 
 feet an object which he seemed anxious to 
 destroy. By his side stood a young and fear- 
 less looking man, who seemed to be urging 
 him on. Over his head waved a banner with 
 the word fr Temperance" in gilt letters, and 
 underneath was the proprietor's name, with 
 the date 1831.
 
 170 the doctor's 
 
 At this time, the cause of temperance* was 
 in its infancy; and it was not strange that 
 many at that day were surprised at seeing the 
 old sign so much changed. They soon dis- 
 covered that the interior of the hotel was as 
 much changed as the old sign. The shelves 
 in the bar, on which usually stood decanters 
 filled with all kinds of alcoholic liquors, were 
 perfectly empty. No signs of alcoholic bever- 
 age were to be seen. Many were discom- 
 forted, and some showed their displeasure by 
 tearing the sign down a number of times; but 
 it arose as often as it fell. After a while the 
 people became more reconciled, and the old 
 sign was allowed to swing to and fro without 
 molestation. From 1831, the hotel was kept 
 on strictly temperance principles. I think 
 that I am safe in saying that this was the first 
 temperance sign ever raised in Rhode Island. 
 
 In 1841, he joined the Christian Baptist 
 Church, at Rice City; and ever after was a 
 consistent member of that church. 
 
 He was buried in the family cemetery on 
 the old homestead, where his father and 
 mother, his wife and two brothers, in dream-
 
 PARENTS. 171 
 
 less sleep, are waiting' for the resurrection 
 morn. 
 
 As I said in the commencement, Dr. John 
 McGregor's mother was the daughter of Major 
 Jonathan Nichols; and I might justly say that 
 the doctor owed much of what he was to his 
 mother. That person never lived in Coventry, 
 who read more, or remembered more of what 
 they read, than the doctor's mother. She 
 always kept well posted on all matters con- 
 cerning the welfare of our country. She 
 seldom gave advice until she had thoroughly 
 examined the matter, and her advice was 
 always in the right direction. Her sufferings 
 while the doctor was in prison were intense; 
 and when his life was sacrificed in Providence, 
 her mind was almost dethroned. She loved 
 her children as none but a mother could. She 
 always endeavored to bend the twig in the 
 rii>*ht direction, for she believed that the way 
 the twig was bent, the tree would be inclined.
 
 THE 
 
 McGregor homestead. 
 
 [From the Pawtuxet Valley Gleaner.] 
 
 We wander all through the old mansion. 
 We look at the old furniture which has been 
 in the family over a century. We hear 
 the old clock ticking, that has stood in one 
 place eighty long years. We see Col. John 
 McGregor's old regimentals which he wore in 
 the Continental Army in 1776, and the old 
 sword still hangs upon the wall, which he 
 unsheathed at the battle of Bunker Hill, and 
 sheathed at Xew York when Washington dis- 
 missed his army. We see his old muster roll 
 dated October 11, 1776 to Nov. 25, 1783, with 
 the names of those patriots who were under 
 his command. We see orders from Washing-
 
 174 THE MCGKREGKXR 
 
 ton, Durkee, and from other commanders. 
 We see files of old papers which were printed 
 in Rhode Island when Washington was pres- 
 ident; the first Chronicles, the first Journal, 
 the first American, and the first Patriot ever 
 printed in Rhode Island. We see autographs 
 of many noted men, such as Governors 
 William Jones, John B. Francis. Gov. Jack- 
 son, John Clark, Albert C. Greene, James 
 F. Simmons, Joseph S. Tillinghast, John 
 Whipple, William Anthony, and a thousand 
 others. We read on a pane of glass in one of 
 the windows a verse inscribed by Gen. Lafay- 
 ette in 1825. We see an organ brought from 
 foreign lands in 1708, the only one of the kind 
 in the United States. In the attic stands the 
 old loom, the linen wheel, the hetchel, and 
 many of those things which were very neces- 
 sary one hundred years ago. 
 
 This house was once a center of busy inter- 
 est, and is located twenty-two miles from 
 Providence and twenty-three miles from Xor- 
 wich on the Providence and Norwich turnpike, 
 For over a century a hotel was kept here by 
 the McGregors. The old sign that swung
 
 HOMESTEAD. 17»") 
 
 before the house one hundred years ago to 
 advertise the business there transacted, is in 
 the house still. 
 
 We enter the Masonic Lodge room which 
 is in the west part of the house. Seventy 
 years ago the Hamilton Lodge was instituted 
 in this room and was the first offspring of 
 Manchester Lodge. As Ave enter this room 
 silence is upon the walls. The craftsmen are 
 not here. The master's gavel is silent, and 
 the square and compass stand out in bold 
 relief as much as to say, "We encompass the 
 whole and square the end of time/' We see 
 on the Avail autographs of some of the crafts- 
 men. We see the old inkstand, long since 
 dry, and here are still to be seen things that 
 aaiII remind us of the past. Peace to the name 
 of the old Lodge room. Silence is upon thy 
 walls, proud room, for a memorial. Such is the 
 old Hamilton Lodge room, a magnificent relic. 
 
 Col. John McGregor came from Dundee, 
 Scotland. He brought to this country Ma- 
 sonic seed and planted it at Anthony, R. I. It 
 germinated and grew. The results attained 
 are well known to the fraternity.
 
 L76 Till. MCGREGOR 
 
 lie raised a company of volunteers in the 
 town of Blainfield, Conn., and on the sixth of 
 June^ 1775, they left Plainfield and marched 
 for Boston. Many of that company never 
 returned. When the sun rose on that memo- 
 rable 17th of June, 1775, that little hand of 
 patriots was diligently at work fortifying 
 Bunker Hill. Let ns draw a vail over that 
 bloody scene and leave to the imagination of 
 the reader the sacrifice that was made that 
 day. Let it suffice. 
 
 When Warren went down, Freemasonry 
 lost one of its most brilliant stars. The ring 
 of the fraternity seemed to be broken. The 
 craft generally rejoice in being known as a 
 fraternity, the limits of which are like a ring 
 that is without beginning or end, being one 
 continuous circle; such, of course, is Masonry, 
 according to its teachings, and should be in 
 fact. It could, and ought to be, and if the 
 brethren only took the pains to make it, it 
 would be so. 
 
 I have wandered from the old homestead. 
 I will now go back. The reader may ask why 
 I call it the old McGregor Homestead. I will
 
 HOMESTEAD. 177 
 
 tell you. Five generations of McGregors 
 have lived here. Col. John McGregor, Jere- 
 miah, son of Col. John, Dr.* John, son of 
 Jeremiah and grandson of Col. John, John 
 the 3d, great-grandson, and Virgil Johnson, 
 great-grandson of Jeremiah and great-great- 
 grandson of Col. John McGregor. Jeremiah, 
 father of Dr. John, lived here 95 years. Jere- 
 miah S. McGregor still lives at the old 
 homestead. What a consolation it must be to 
 know that your parents, grandparents, great- 
 grandparents and great-great-grandparents 
 have lived in the same house, slept in the same 
 rooms, walked the same paths, drank from the 
 same well, read the same papers, and used the 
 same furniture. 
 
 And what is home and where, but with the loving? 
 
 Happy thou art that so canst gaze on thine ! 
 My spirit feels but in its weary roving, 
 
 That with the dead, where'er the)* be. is mine. 
 
 Ask where the earth's departed have their dwelling, 
 Ask of the clouds, the stars, the trackless air: — 
 
 I know it not, — yet trust a whisper, telling 
 My lonely heart that love unchanged is there. 
 
 Cosmopolite.
 
 REMINISCENCES 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT PLAINFIELD. 
 
 [Copied From a Connecticut Paper.] 
 
 Let us go back to 1774; at this time the 
 Colonies were in a turmoil from end to end, 
 by reason of a threatened Coercion Bill, a bill 
 designed by Great Britain to put down the 
 Colonies and their just claims of Fixity of 
 Tenure for the people. The public excitement 
 continued to increase. Associations were 
 formed in many places throughout the Colo- 
 nies, under the title of Sons of Liberty. Such 
 an association was formed in Plainfield. 
 
 Previous to said date a man from Dundee, 
 Scotland, by the name of John McGregor, 
 located in said town. He soon made many 
 acquaintances in Plainfield, and erelong be-
 
 ISO REMINISCENCES <>K 
 
 came acquainted with Israel Putnam, of Brook- 
 lyn. .McGregor was well posted in military 
 discipline, having seen much service in Scot- 
 land; and as Putnam had seen something of 
 war, their hearts beat in union. McGregor 
 was selected to discipline said association in 
 the arts of war. 
 
 On the 19th of April, 1775, was shed at 
 Lexington, the first blood in the Revolutionary 
 war. At this, the Sons of Liberty communi- 
 cated with each other by signals. The beacon 
 lights, located on many of the lofty hills, were 
 strictly attended to. 
 
 On the evening of June 6th, the beacon 
 light on Shepard's Hill was seen streaming 
 heavenward. It was the signal for the Sons 
 of Liberty to assemble at their headquarters. 
 Said headquarters were at Simeon Shepard's 
 residence, which w T as located where the Plain- 
 field almshouse now stands. 
 
 On the following day there was great excite- 
 ment in Plainfiekl. They all knew that the 
 association would soon have news from Bos- 
 ton. About two o'clock in the afternoon, a 
 horseman was seen coming at breakneck
 
 AX( IKXT PLAIXFIELD. 181 
 
 speed, from towards Boston. The 1 assembly 
 was spellbound as the messenger dashed up 
 to the headquarters. The man was as pale as 
 death. He was completely exhausted, and 
 was taken from his horse and carried into the 
 house. The poor horse trembled and reeled, 
 and before the dispatch could be nnlashed from 
 the saddle, he fell to the ground. He had 
 carried his last message. The dispatch was 
 directed to John McGregor. The following 
 is a copy. 
 
 Boston, June 6th, 1775. 
 Captain John McGregob : Dear Sir, — Forward your men to 
 Boston as soon as possible. They will be needed soon. 
 
 Your friend. 
 
 Israel Putnam. 
 
 The following night was a busy and sleep- 
 less one for the men and women in Plainfield, 
 for the company was to commence its march 
 for Boston at seven o'clock the next morning. 
 At the appointed time, those Sons of Liberty 
 formed themselves into line, and waited for the 
 word, ff Forward!" Swift as the summons 
 came, the} T left the plow mid-furrow, standing 
 still, the half ground corn-grist in the mill, the
 
 182 REMINISCENCES OF 
 
 spade in the earth, the ax in cleft. They went 
 where duty seemed to call. They only knew 
 they could but die. They had not long to wait 
 for the word, "Forward," for erelong McGregor 
 came to the front, unsheathed the sword which 
 had been presented to him by the association, 
 and, in a clear voice, said, "Sons of Liberty! 
 all of you who are willing to share with me the 
 dangers and sufferings of war, for your coun- 
 try's sake, Forward March !" Xot one faltered. 
 
 The reader can imagine the feelings of the 
 friends of these young men, as they left Plain- 
 field, and wound their way over the hills and 
 through the valleys, until they reached Boston. 
 
 On the 9th, this little band of patriots filed 
 into one of the redoubts near Boston. Putnam 
 was there ready to receive them. On the 17th, 
 they took an active part in the battle of Bun- 
 ker Hill. Some of these men served until 
 Washington disbanded his army at New 
 York. Many of them never returned to 
 Plainfield. We Avill draw a vail over Valley 
 Forge, Trenton, Morristown, White Plains, 
 and many other places, where their sufferings 
 can never be fully described.
 
 AKCIEKT PLA1XFTELD. 188 
 
 The old sword which John McGregor had, 
 presented to him by said association, and which 
 he used all through the war, is now in posses- 
 sion of the writer. Also, his old muster roll 
 containing the names of the men in his com- 
 pany. His company was in Col. John Durkee's 
 regiment. For the benefit of the posterity of 
 those patriots, I will transcribe a part of that 
 old muster roll. Space will not allow me to 
 copy the whole roll, therefore the reader must 
 be content with a part. The following are 
 some of the names found on said roll: 
 
 James M. Daniels, John Sanders, Clear 
 Haymont, Joshua Stoddard, Henry Shaw, 
 Solomon Haymont, Samuel Stafford, Abel 
 Franklin, Josiah Hogers, Philemon Love, Asa 
 Law, Oliver Hogers, John Williams, Lot 
 Chace, Reuben Bryant, Caesar Steward, Wil- 
 li am Glenn, Therea Durkee, Ames Ben- 
 nett, Pomp Haymont, Peter Horry, Jedediab 
 Brown, James Dike, John Almey. 
 
 The grave of Putnam should be immortal- 
 ized; men die, but their works remain, their 
 example survives. 
 
 To-day, this republic holds in secure grasp,
 
 184 
 
 every element of power, every condition of 
 existence. Finn and strong, she extends to 
 other nations the hand of friendship, We 
 have erected upon onr shores a statue of Lib- 
 erty illuminating the world. We cannot be 
 deaf, we must not be blind, to her munificence. 
 The centennial anniversary draws on apaee. 
 The national spirit is revived. The national 
 wealth, and power, and pride, are at their 
 zenith. 
 
 When the July sun shall hereafter rise in 
 its perennial course, may its morning rays, as 
 they lift from the Atlantic waves, gild the 
 spotless shaft which shall stand for countless 
 ages, the witness of a nation's gratitude ; and 
 as they fall upon each patriot's grave, and 
 finally sink in effulgence in the deep bosom of 
 the Pacific ocean, may we remember, and our 
 children and children's children after us 
 remember, the obligations we owe those patri- 
 ots for our establishment and security in this 
 vast heritage.
 
 SKETCH 
 
 OF 
 
 Dr. P. K. HUTCHINSON. 
 
 The subject of this sketch, Dr. P. K. 
 Hutchinson, was born on the 29th of August, 
 1817, in the town of Plainfield, in the state of 
 Connecticut. The early youth of Dr. Hutchin- 
 son was spent in the beautiful village of Plain- 
 held, and almost within the shadows of that 
 ancient academy, in which so many noted men, 
 fifty years ago, acquired their education. He 
 entered that academy very early in life and 
 continued until he graduated. Being strongly 
 inclined to study, he sought every opportunity 
 for improving his mind, and a profession was 
 the great end at which he aimed. After leav- 
 ing the old academy at Plainfield, he entered
 
 186 SKETCH OF 
 
 Amherst College, where he remained until he 
 graduated with the highest honors, After he 
 left the college, he immediately entered the 
 office of Dr. Coggeshall, an eminent physician, 
 then residing in Plainfield, and commenced 
 the study of medicine. He subsequently grad- 
 uated at the Medical University at New 
 Haven. 
 
 In 1847, he opened an office and loeated him- 
 self in Coventry, Rhode Island, taking the 
 plaee vacated by Dr. John McGregor, who 
 had moved to Phenix. For twenty years he 
 remained at the old McGregor homestead. In 
 1850, he married Miss Jane McGregor, daugh- 
 ter of Jeremiah McGregor and sister to Di*. 
 John McGregor. 
 
 He soon acquired a reputation as a physician 
 of the highest order. His practice at this time 
 was very extensive, and his success as physi- 
 cian was beyond what he had ever hoped. He 
 had gained the confidence of the people, and 
 his reputation was fully established. He had 
 previously joined the Christian Baptist Church, 
 at Rice City, and was a very active member. 
 He took a great interest in the common school
 
 DR. P. K. HUTCHIXSOX. 187 
 
 system, and did very much toward the further- 
 ance of the cause. He was always ready and 
 willing to assist in any work which would 
 improve the morals of the people, or raise them 
 to a more exalted position. He was generous 
 to an extreme. He was just as ready and will- 
 ing to doctor the poor as he was the rich. The 
 beggar never went from his house empty- 
 handed. He was what you might call a whole- 
 souled man. 
 
 Subsequently, he purchased a farm at Rice 
 City, and moved thither. He was elected to 
 many offices in the town and state. For a 
 long time he was one of the town's School 
 Committee, and for two years represented 
 Coventry in the State Legislature. 
 
 In 1862, he was appointed assistant surgeon 
 of the twelfth Rhode Island regiment, com- 
 manded by Col. George H. Brown. At the 
 battle of Fredericksburg, he, with other doc- 
 tors, was in one of the churches occupied as 
 a hospital. Soon after this battle, he was 
 taken with chronic diarrhoea, and was obliged 
 to resign his office and return home. 
 
 He devoted much of his time to extending
 
 L88 SKETCH OF 
 
 a gracious hospitality to his friends. But the 
 day was fast approaching when his earthly 
 labors were to cease. It was not long before 
 his illness had rapidly increased, and his con- 
 dition was such that physicians entertained no 
 hope of his recovery. lie also was sensible 
 that his last days were very near. With the 
 most perfect calmness, he conversed with his 
 family and friends, and gave directions con- 
 cerning- his funeral, being desirous that his last 
 resting-place on earth should be in the fam- 
 ily cemetery, on the old McGregor homestead. 
 Gradually, he was sinking; and on October 
 31st, he inquired the day of the month. Being- 
 told that it was the 31st of October, he told 
 his friends that he might live till another day, 
 and expressed an earnest wish that he might. 
 His prayer was heard. The dawn of another 
 day broke upon his eyes, and then they were 
 closed forever. And what a noble consumma- 
 tion of a noble life! To die where his name, 
 by his own acts, stood high on the record of 
 fame, was glorious; to die amid the people who 
 looked up to him as the author under God of 
 their greatest blessings, was all that was
 
 Dn. P. K. HUTCHIXSOX. 189 
 
 wanted to fill up the record of his life. Fifty- 
 live summers had rolled over his head. He 
 had passed the meridian of his usefulness, and 
 his departure was similar to a beautiful sunset. 
 His spirit was freed from the bondage of earth, 
 as it left the scenes of his earthly honors. 
 
 In him, the elements of self control were 
 strong. Possessing great fortitude, as well as 
 personal courage, his command of temper was 
 such that his friends seldom saw him in a pas- 
 sion. He was also possessed of simplicity of 
 manner, although coupled with easy dignity. 
 He was fluent and eloquent in conversation, 
 and remarkably precise and correct in his 
 language. As a classical scholar, his writings 
 were after the best models of antiquity, and 
 he never endeavored to convince by the mere 
 force of argument. So nearly the whole of 
 Dr. Hutchinson's life was passed before the 
 public, that his actions speak his character 
 better than words can express them, and what- 
 ever his faults may have been, if he had them, 
 his name will be cherished, and he will be held 
 in grateful memory, as one of our most eminent 
 physicians.
 
 190 
 
 He died at his home, in Rice City, November 
 1st, 1872, aged 55 years. At his death, the 
 Rice ( lity Church lost a worthy member, and 
 the community a skillful physician. Rev. Mr. 
 Westgate, from Phenix, preached a very 
 instructive and interesting discourse upon the 
 occasion, taking for his text, the 7th and 8th 
 verses found in the fourth chapter of the sec- 
 ond Epistle of Paul, the Apostle, to Timothy, 
 ,? I have fought a good fight, I have finished 
 my course, I have kept the faith : Henceforth 
 there is laid up for me a crown of righteous- 
 ness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, 
 shall give me at that day: and not to me 
 only, but unto all them also that love his 
 appearing." 
 
 A massive granite monument denotes the 
 place where the mortal part of Dr. P. Iv. 
 Hutchinson is peacefully resting. There is 
 nothing certain in this life but death. 
 
 Leaves have their time to fall, 
 And flowers to wither at the North wind's breath, 
 
 And stars to set — but all, 
 Thou hast <tU seasons for thine own. o Death!
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 For the benefit of our posterity, and to aid 
 the historians who, in the future, will doubtless 
 endeavor to make their histories of this nation 
 as complete as possible, we should exert our- 
 selves in gleaning and preserving everything* 
 which will be interesting and useful to the suc- 
 ceeding generation. Every nation has a his- 
 tory ; and the completeness depends upon how 
 much the historian can find preserved to form 
 said history. 
 
 Little drops of water, 
 
 Little grains of sand, 
 Make the mighty ocean, 
 
 And the beauteous land. 
 
 Every man has two histories, a public and 
 a private one. The one becomes fairly the 
 property of the public, by virtue of his having
 
 192 (ox(Lrsiox. 
 
 been connected with events in which everyone 
 has a share of interest; but the other belongs 
 exclusively to himself, his family, and his inti- 
 mate friends. Our most lofty mountains are 
 formed and composed of small particles of 
 quartz, feldspar, mica, different kinds of ore, 
 and many other things too numerous to men- 
 tion, which it takes to make those mighty 
 elevations. The Amazon river, the largest, 
 but not the longest, river in the world, is 
 formed and made complete by the contribution 
 of hundreds of other smaller rivers; and those 
 rivers are formed by thousands of little brooks, 
 contributing their waters; and those little 
 brooks are formed by thousands and thousands 
 of tiny springs of water, located in different 
 places on the east side of the Andes Mountains, 
 hundreds of miles apart. So it is with history. 
 It is made complete by the small particles 
 which the historian gleans, and which he finds 
 scattered in different localities. To make his- 
 tory reliable, scenes should be described by 
 those who witnessed them, places should be 
 described by those who have seen them, the 
 acts of men should be described by those who
 
 conclusion". 193 
 
 know the facts, the sayings of men should be 
 repeated by those who heard those sayings, 
 and a record should be made of the testimony 
 of those witnesses. It is not so very strange 
 that historians disagree in their accounts of 
 scenes which they describe, from the fact that 
 witnesses located in different positions, view 
 scenes in a different light. There is no excuse 
 for historians disagreeing on dates, names, and 
 the general facts. Mistakes will occur with 
 the most correct writers, and it proves that 
 man is imperfect in many ways. It is not given 
 to man to achieve perfection; else this world 
 would not be a state of discipline. 
 
 Why is it that we are so very particular 
 about having all of our deeds, wills, contracts, 
 and many of our business transactions, record- 
 ed, and those records placed in some secure 
 depository, for preservation. The whole object 
 is this; our memory being fallible, if we make 
 a record of our acts and doings, and those 
 records are preserved, we can refer to those 
 records and ascertain the facts, and the suc- 
 ceeding generation may have the benefit of 
 those records, after we are gone from earth.
 
 194 conclusion. 
 
 History is nothing more nor less than the rec- 
 ord of the past. Men die, but their record 
 remains, their example survives. When I look 
 back over the period of fifty .years, crowded 
 with great events, and which has witnessed the 
 convulsion of the nation, the reorganization 
 and reconstruction of our political system, — 
 when in my mind's eye I people this country 
 with those whose forms have been familiar to 
 me, whose names, many of them historical 
 names, are now carved on granite or marble 
 that covers their dust, I am filled with a sad- 
 ness inexpressible, yet full of consolation; 
 for, musing on the transitory nature of all 
 sublunary things, I come to perceive that 
 their instability is not in their essence, but in 
 the forms which they assume, and in the agen- 
 cies that operate upon them; and when I recall 
 those whom I have seen fall around me, and 
 whom I thought necessary to the sueeess, 
 almost to the preservation, of great principles, 
 I recall also those whom I have seen step into 
 the vacant places, put on the armor which 
 they wore, lift the weapons which they 
 wielded, and march on to the consummation
 
 conclusion. 195 
 
 of the work which they inaugurated. And 
 thus I am filled with reverent wonder at the 
 beneficent ordering of nature, and inspired 
 with a loftier faith in that Almighty Power 
 without whose guidance and direction all 
 human effort is vain, and with whose blessing 
 the humblest instruments that He selects are 
 equal to the mightiest work that He designs. 
 When we contemplate the close of life, the 
 termination of man's designs and hopes, the 
 silence that now reigns among those who a 
 little while ago were so busy or so gay, who 
 can avoid being touched with sensations at 
 once awful and tender? AVhat heart but then 
 warms with the glow of humanity? In whose 
 eye does not the tear gather, on revolving the 
 fate of passing and short-lived man? Of all 
 the sorrows which we are here doomed to 
 endure, none is so bitter as that occsioned by 
 the fatal stroke which separates us, in appear- 
 ance, forever, from those to whom either nature 
 or friendship had intimately joined our hearts. 
 Memory from time to time renews the anguish, 
 opens the woirhd which seemed once to have 
 been closed, and, by recalling joys that are
 
 19() roxcLrsTox. 
 
 past and gone, touches every spring of painful 
 sensibility. In these agonizing moments, how 
 relieving the thought that the separation is 
 only temporary, not eternal; that there is a 
 time to come of reunion with those with whom 
 our happiest days were spent, whose joys and 
 sorrows once were ours, whose piety and virtue 
 cheered and encouraged us, and from whom, 
 after we shall have landed on the peaceful 
 shore where they dwell, no revolutions of 
 nature shall ever be able to part us more. Such 
 is the society of the blessed above. Of such 
 is the multitude composed which stands before 
 the throne. 
 
 THE EXD.
 
 /