YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

THE END OF AN ERA

BY

JOHN S. WISE

BOSTON AND NEW TOEK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
dfte JSibet!*ibE -^xe^, Cambtibse
1899

COPYRIGHT, 1899, BV JOHN S. WISE.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PREFACE
This book needs this much of an apology. It is to
a great extent the autobiography of an insignificant per
son. If it were that alone, it would have no excuse for
publication, and would possess little interest for those out
side the immediate home circle. But it is not an autobio
graphy alone. It introduces views of Southern life and
feelings and civilization, prior to and during the war,
which possess an unflagging interest for the American
people; and it tells the true story of several striking
events which preceded our civil strife, and many episodes
of the great war. Besides these, it gives accurate de
scriptions not heretofore published of the appearance and
actions and sayings of many distinguished participants on
the Confederate side.
"When I first concluded to print the book, I made an
honest effort to construct it in the third person. It was
a lamentable failure, and made it appear even more egotis
tical than in its present form. Having returned to the
narrative in the first person singular, I found myself a
participant in several scenes in which I was not actually
present. How to eliminate these, and at the same time
preserve the continuity of the narrative, was a serious
problem. I solved it at last by the consent of my only
living brother that he would stand for me in several epi-

iv PREFACE
sodes, having told me all I know.^ I will not mar the
narrative by pointing out the places in which my brother
is myself. This confession redeems the book from being
classed either as an autobiography or a romance; and
whenever anybody shall say to me, " Why, you were not
there?" I will answer, like the Israelite gentleman,
"Yes, I know. Dot vas mine brudder." The reader
gets the facts as they were, and that is all he ought to
expect. I dedicate it to my old Confederate comrades, the
bravest, simplest, most unselfish, and affectionate friends
I ever had.
J. S. W.
New York, September 10, 1899.
1 Hon. Kichard A. Wise, Williamsburg, Va.

CONTENTS
FASB
I. A Long Wat from Home  1
n. The Kingdom of Accawmacke  10
in. Our Folks in General and in Particular . . 23
rV. My Mother: First Lessons in Politics ... 33
V. The Know-nothing Campaign and Life in Richmond . 52
VI. Behind the Scenes  61
Vn. My Brother  89
Vin. Unveiling of Washington's Statue, and Removal of
Monroe's Remains, 1859  98
IX. The John Brown Raid  113
X. How the " Slave-Drivers " lived .... 137
XI. The Caum before the Storm — The Cloudburst . 152
XII. The Roanoke Island Tragedy  175
Xin. The Merrimao and the Monitor  191
XIV. A Refugee  206
XV. Among the Mountains  219
XVI. Presbyterian Lexington  232
XVn. A New Phase of Military Life  244
XVTII. A Hunt and almost a Licking  276
XIX. The Most Glorious Day of My Life .... 285
XX. The Grub becomes a Butterfly .... 310
XXI. Life at Petersburg  328
XXII. The Battle of the Crater  346
XXIII. The Confederate Reserves . . ... 372
XXIV. The Beginning of the End  392
XXV. The End in Sight  412
XXVL The End  437
Index  465

THE END OF AN ERA

CHAPTER I
A LONG -WAT FROM HOME

It was the day after Christmas in the year 1846.
Near sundown, two young officers of the army of the
United States sat upon one of the benches on the pro
menade of the great reservoir which supplies the city of
Rio de Janeiro with water.
Both were lieutenants, — one of engineers, the other
of artillery. Any one half acquainted with the United
States would have recognized them as West Pointers ; and
their presence in this far-away spot was easily accounted
for by a glance downward from the coign of vantage
where they sat, at a fleet of United States men-of-war and
troop ships riding at anchor in the bay.
Nowhere in all the world is there a scene more beauti
ful than that spread out before them. Below, falling
away down the mountain side to the silver sands of the
bay, were the palms and gardens, and orange and olive
groves, surrounding the residence of the Cateti suburb.
To seaward, the southern boundary of the mile-wide
entrance to tbe bay, loomed the bald, brown peak of the
Sugar Loaf Mountain, with the beautiful suburb of Bota-
fogo nestling near its base. Huge mountains, their dense
foliage lit by the sinking sun, ran down to the water's
edge upon the opposite or northern shore. Far beneath

2 THE END OF AN ERA
them was the Gloria landing for naval vessels. To west
ward, sweeping out into the bay with bold and graceful
curves, and spread beneath them like a map, was the pen
insula upon which the city of Rio is built, and beyond
this, gleaming in the evening sunlight, and studded with
islands of intense verdure, extended the upper bay until
it was lost in the distance, where, on the horizon, the blue
peaks of the Organ range closed in the lovely picture.
The ships bearing the commands to which the young
gentlemen were attached were bound to California around
Cape Horn. The troops were to take part in the war
then flagrant between the United States and Mexico. A
short stop had been made at Rio for water and provisions,
and these two youngsters were among the first to apply
for and obtain shore leave.
The dusty appearance of their dress, and other evidences
of fatigue, showed that they had not failed to sustain the
reputation of their countrymen as investigators of every
thing new and strange. In fact, they had, in the morning,
exhausted the sights to be seen in the city. After amusing
themselves in the shops of the Rua Direita, and replenish
ing their stock of Spanish books in the Rua do Ovidor,
and wandering through several churches and residence
streets, they had become very much interested in the re
markable aqueduct which supplies the city of Rio with
water. Our young soldiers, in their engineering zeal, had fol
lowed the aqueduct back to its source of supply; and
now, bound for the Gloria landing, were resting, deeply-
impressed by the great work, and by the genius and skill
of its builders. But both the youths, recalling the fact
that it was the Christmas season, felt, in spite of all the
tropical novelty and strange beauty surrounding them
as evening closed in, a yearning for an American home

A LONG WAY FROM HOME 3
and voice and face; and their conversation naturally
enough fell into conjecturing how the Christmas was being
spent by their own loved ones in the United States, or in
bemoani g the good things they were missing.
While thus engaged, they saw two men approaching.
One was in civilian dress; the other wore the uniform
of assistant surgeon in the United States navy. The new
comers were engaged in animated conversation ; and,
although the civilian was a man of forty, while his com
panion was a youngster of twenty-five, there was little if
any difference in the alertness of their steps.
The faces of the young officers lit up with pleasure as,
upon the near approach of the two pedestrians, they caught
the sound of genuine United States English. They had
observed the American flag floating from a residence in
the Cateti, and had no doubt that the persons who were
now passing were in some way connected with the lega
tion. Accordingly, with that freedom which fellow coun
trymen feel in addressing each other in foreign lands, the
West Pointers arose at the approach of the two gentle
men, and, catching the eye of the elder of the two, ad
vanced, announced their rank and ser-vice, and made some
inquiry as a groundwork of further conversation. They
were not mistaken in their surmises. The gentleman
addressed was the Envoy Extraordinary and Minister
Plenipotentiary to the Empire of Brazil from the Republic
of the United States. A title like that was well calculated
to paralyze the familiarity of two young military men ;
and when they realized that, unannounced and covered
with dust, they had of their own motion ventured into
conversation with the bearer of such an august title, their
first impulse was to apologize for their temerity and to
withdraw. Even from an officer of no higher grade than
captain in their own service, they were accustomed te a

4 THE END OF AN ERA
greeting strictly formal, usually accompanied by the in
quiry, " Well, sir ? state your business ; " and, having
done so, they were generally glad enough to salute and
withdraw. Here they were, without any business, stand
ing in the presence of a high official, with nothing more
to say, and with no excuse to give for what they had said.
But before their embarrassment could grow more annoy
ing, the minister put them completely at their ease.
" Well met ! " he exclaimed ; " we are just returning
homeward from the city. Come ! The more the merrier :
you shall dine with me. I still have some Christmas
turkey and plum pudding, and we will drink the health
of the good angel who sent my countrymen to me at this
blessed season."
During the course of their walk to the American legar
tion, the young fellows had opportunity to observe their
newly found host more carefully. To them he was a
revelation. His name and position in politics were not
unknown to them ; for although still young, he had for
many years been a conspicuous figure in national politics
in the United States. The echoes of his eloquence, as
well as accounts of his game-cock courage, had penetrated
even into the isolated world of the Academy at West
Point. In fact, he had been absent from the United
States but two or three years upon this mission, which
had been accepted partly on account of failing health,
and partly from a desire to strike a blow at the infamous
African slave-trade. He had accomplished much towards
breaking up the slave-trade, and derived great benefit to
his health.
Brilliant at all times in conversation, he was, on this
occasion, unusually interesting. The sight of his coun
try's ships in the harbor, and the news of the struggle
with Mexico, so excited and elated him that he was seen

A LONG WAY FROM HOME 5
at his best by his visitors. The two boys studied him as
if he had been some great actor. Tall and thin, he was
nevertheless exceedingly active and muscular. His dress
consisted of simple black, with spotless linen. He wore
the open standing collar and white scarf alfected by the
gentlemen of that period. The only ornament upon his
person was a large opal pin confining the neckerchief.
His head gear, suited to the climate, was one of those ex
quisitely wrought white Panama hats which is the envy of
men living beyond the tropics. Beneath this was a head
exquisitely moulded, with a noble brow, and large hazel
eyes, the ever-changing expression of which, coupled with
a full, rich voice, charmed and fascinated his guests. His
silken blond hair was thrown back and worn long, as was
the custom of the day. A nose too handsome to be called
Roman, yet too strong to be designated as Grecian ; a
mouth wide and mobile, filled with even, white teeth ; and
a strong chin with a decided dimple, — completed the re
markable face which turned in ever-changing expression,
from time to time, towards its companions, as they strode
homeward in the twilight.
Such was the American minister ; and, according to the
mood in which one found him, he impressed the stranger
as the gentlest, the tenderest, the most loving, the most
eloquent, the most earnest, the most fearless, the most
impassioned, or the fiercest man he had ever met. No
body who saw him ever forgot him.
They reached the legation just as it was growing dark,
and as the full-orbed moon was rising from the distant
sea. Seeking the veranda," and seating his guests in the
-wicker easy-chairs with which it was well supplied, the
minister excused himself, and left them for a few minutes
to their own observations and reflections.
As the soft sea-breeze came up to them, laden with

G THE END OF AN ERA
garden perfumes ; as they watched the golden highway of
the moon's reflection on the sea ; as they saw the twin
kling lights of the ships in the deep shadows of the bay
below them, — they felt as if they had indeed discovered
an earthly paradise ; and when a fair blond girl in filmy
apparel glided through the drawing-room and joined them,
speaking pure English, it seemed as if their paradise was
being peopled by angels. Everybody here spoke in Eng
lish. Everything spoke of home. The pictures on the
waUs, the books on the tables, yes, the dishes at table,
-were all American.
The visitors were conducted to their apartments to
make necessary preparations for dinner. Soon after their
return to the drawing-room, the minister reappeared with
a look somewhat troubled, as he apologized for his long
absence and the non-appearance of the lady of the house.
A moment later the folding-doors rolled back, and the
English butler announced that dinner was served. Oh,
what a contrast with the ward-room of the man-of-war in
which our two lieutenants had been dining for a month or
more! Dinner over, the company once more sought the cool
veranda, where coffee and cigars were served. There they
-were joined by Baron Lomonizoff, the Russian minister,
who had called to be informed of all the recent develop
ments in the controversy with Mexico, and who spoke
English perfectly. Later, just as the baron was bidding
adieu, in fact, at what seemed to our young friends to be a
very late hour for visiting, the oddest imaginable specimen
of Brazilian humanity was introduced as Dr. Ildefonso.
His efforts at English were startling. They nearly
¦convulsed our two young friends, and reconciled them to
their own failures at Portuguese.
As the little doctor showed no signs of leaving, and

A LONG WAY FROM HOME 7
as, by one or two indications, the young visitors began to
suspect it was time for them to go, they reluctantly took
their departure, thanking their host a thousand times for
the pleasure he had given them, and chatting joyously, on
the route to the ship, about the good fortune which had
given them such a Merry Christmas.
The little Brazilian doctor and the surgeon in the na-vy
had remained because there was work on hand for them.
I entered my name on the docket of humanity that night ;
and, as the lawyers say, my cause was continued until the
further order of the court.
How do I know it ? I will tell you.
Forty-five years later, at a great banquet in New York,
I was sitting beside an aged, grizzled general of the
armies of the Union.
Said the old general cheerily, " Did I ever tell you of
my -visit to your father in Rio?" Receiving a negative
response, he proceeded in his inimitable way to recount
every incident above set forth, omitting the hour of his
own departure from the legation. The memory of the
struggles of the little Brazilian doctor -with the English
language still amused him immensely. He was recalling
some absurd mistake of Dr. Ildefonso, when I looked up,
and, with a merry twinkle in my eye, said, " General, at
what hour did you leave the Cateti that night ? " " Oh,
I should say about eleven or twelve o'clock," said the
general. " WeU, now, do you know, my dear general,
I deeply regret you left so early. I arrived myself that
night about two hours after your departure, and would
have been so delighted to meet you under my father's
roof." This sally was met by a hearty laugh from the
listening company, and was followed by a glass of wine
to the memory of those olden days, since when so many
things have happened.

8 THE END OF AN ERA
The young lieutenant of artillery, and the old general
above described, was no other than William Tecumseh
Sherman, commander of the armies of the Union. His
companion was the officer who afterwards became famous
as General Halleck. Neither of them ever met again
their host of that evening.
In later years, he also became a distinguished general,
but on the Confederate side. He never knew that Sher
man and Halleck, the great Union generals, were the
young officers he entertained at Rio the night I was born ;
for he died many years before the general revealed his
identity as above related.
Forty years after this meeting, when I was in Congress,
I received a letter from a dear old retired chaplain of the
navy living in Boston, Rev. Mr. Lambert, asking my
assistance in some public matter, and concluding with the
remark that this demand of a stranger sprung from the
fact that the writer had held me in his arms and baptized
me at the American legation in Rio, April 14, 1847.
In the spring of 1847, my father asked the President
for a recall ; and, his petition being granted, the United
States frigate Columbia was placed at his disposal for the
return to America.
I was a tried seaman when, for the first time, I set
foot upon the soil of my country, and took up my resi
dence where my people had lived for over two hundred
years. I was not born on the soil of the United States,
but nevertheless in the United States; for the place
where I was born was the home of a United States min
ister, and under the protection of the United States flag,
and was in law as much the soil of the United States as
any within its boundaries. Descended from a number of
people who helped to form the Union, born under the

A LONG WAY FROM HOME 9
glorious stars and stripes, rocked in the cradle of an
American man-of-war, and taught to love the Union next
to my Maker, little did I dream of the things, utterly
inconsistent -with such ideas, which were to happen to
me and mine within the first eighteen years of my
existence.

CHAPTER II
THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE
Our voyage terminated in the kingdom of Accaw
macke, the abiding-place of my ancestors for two and a
half centuries. Although within eight hours of New
York and six hours from Philadelphia by rail, the region
and its people are as unlike those of these crowded centres
of humanity as if they were a thousand miles away.
John Smith teUs us, in his memorable narrative of his
earliest American explorations, that when Captain Nelson
sailed in June, 1607, for England, in the good ship
Phcenix, he, John, in his own barge, accompanied him
to the Virginia capes ; and there, after delivering his
writings for the company, he parted with him near the
southernmost cape, which he named Cape Henry. Sail
ing northward. Captain Smith first -visited the seaward
island, which he named Smith's Island, after himself. It
is still called Smith's Island, and is owned by the Lee
family. Then he returned to the northernmost cape, at
the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay, and named it Cape
Charles, in honor of the unfortunate prince afterwards
known as Charles I. Upon the point of this cape Smith
encountered an Indian chief, whom he describes as " the
most comely, proper, civil salvage " he had yet met. The
name of this chief was Kictopeke. He was called " The
Laughing King of Accomack," and Accomack means, in
the Indian tongue, " The Land Beyond the Water." He
bore in his hand a long spear or harpoon, -with a sharp

THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE 11
ened fish-bone or shell upon its point ; and he it was who
taught John Smith and his companions to spear the
sheepshead and other fish in the shallow waters hard by.
John Smith and The Laughing King have been buried
for weU-nigh three centuries, but the people about Cape
Charles stiU spear sheepshead on the shoals in the same
old way.
Smith and his companions cruised along the western
shore of this Peninsula of Accawmacke, which is the east
ern shore of the Chesapeake Bay, until they reached what
is now called Pocomoke River, the present boundary be
tween Virginia and Maryland. The distance is probably
eighty miles. The reason assigned for the long cruise
was that they were searching for fresh water. To those
who know the abundant springs of the Peninsula, this
statement is surprising. Overtaken in the neighborhood
of Pocomoke by one of those summer thunder-storms
which are so prevalent in that region, they were driven
across the bay to the western shore, and thence they
cruised down the Chesapeake until they turned into what
is now called Hampton Roads. Passing the low sand-
spit where the ramparts of Fortress Monroe now frown
and the gay summer resorts are built, they stopped at
the Indian village Kickotan, located upon the present site
of Hampton. Obtaining there a good supply of food
from the Indians, they returned to the Jamestown settle
ment, about forty miles up the river, then called Pow
hatan, now known as the James. In this as in all things,
the Englishman appropriated what belonged to the In
dian, and King James supplanted King Powhatan.
It was on this return voyage that Smith, while prac
ticing the art acquired from the King of Accawmacke,
impaled a fish upon his sword, in the shallow waters about
the mouth of the Rappahannock River. Unaware of the

12 THE END OF AN ERA
dangerous character of his captive, he received in his wrist
a very painful wound from the spike-like fin upon the
tail of the fish. This wound caused such soreness and
such sweUing that he thought he was like to die, and his
whole party went ashore and laid Smith under a tree,
where he made his wiU. " But," says he, " by night time
the swelling- and soreness had so abated that I had the
pleasure of eating that fish for supper." The next morn
ing the journey was resumed, and the place, in remem
brance of the incident, was named Stingaree Point. To
this day, that point at the mouth of the Rappahannock
is caUed Stingaree Point ; and that fish is stiU caUed
Stingaree by the people along the Chesapeake Bay.
After this famous cruise, John Smith, who was as ac
tive and restless as a box of monkeys, made his map of
Virginia, which is still extant, — and a pretty good map
it is, showing his capes and his islands, and his points and
his rivers, and what not, — in whieh map the Kingdom
of Accawmacke bears a most conspicuous part.
On that historic document, old John at certain points
printed little pictures of deer, to show where they most
abounded ; and at other points he designated -where the
wild turkeys were most plentiful. The author of this
humble narrative has, in his day, hunted every variety of
game which abounds at the present time in Old Virginia;
and just where the deer and turkeys were most abundant
in 1608, according to John Smith's map, there are they
most abundant now. In the counties of Surry and Sus
sex, upon the south side of the James, run, doubtless, the
descendants of those very deer whose pictures adorn the
map of John Smith, published three centuries ago ; and
within the past twelve months the writer has followed
the great-great-great-grandchildren of the identical tur
keys, no doubt, from whose flocks were captured, in 1616,

THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE 13
the twenty birds sent by King Powhatan to his brother
the King of England.
But to return to our Kingdom of Accawmacke.
After the Jamestown colonists had tired of poor old
John Smith, after he had blown himself up with his own
powder while smoking in his boat, upon one of his return
trips to Jamestown from the present site of Richmond ;
after he had returned to England, broken in health and
spirits, — the colonists who remained found, among their
other miseries and tribulations, that they were sadly in
need of salt.
Bearing in mind stories brought back from the coast
by Smith, Sir Thomas Dale, governor, in the year 1612
detailed a party from the Jamestown settlement to go to
the Kingdom of Accawmacke and boil salt for the settlers
at Jamestown.
We may well imagine that such a task was far from
grateful to those to whom it was allotted. It was looked
forward to by them, no doubt, as the equivalent of soli
tary confinement in a dangerous locality. At Jamestown
the settlers were located upon an island. This fact and
their numbers gave them comparative security from the
savages. In Accawmacke the party assigned to salt-
boUing was placed upon the same land as the Indians ;
and its numbers were so small, and the position so iso
lated from the chief settlement by the Chesapeake Bay
between them, that their situation would have been most
perilous in case of attack. It was therefore, doubtless,
in the spirit of satire that the party named the place at
which they first located upon the eastern shore. Dale's Gift.
Thus came about the first settlement of the white man
upon the eastern shore peninsula of Virginia ; and, recog
nizing its separation from the other settlements, the kings
of England for many years addressed all their decrees to

14 THE END OF AN ERA
the Virginia colonists to their " faithful subjects in ye
Colonic of Virginia and ye Kingdom of Accawmacke."
Like many another venture undertaken reluctantly and
in ignorance, this settlement upon the eastern shore
proved to be anything but an irksome and dangerous
transfer. The party at Dale's Gift found the Accaw
macke Indians totally unlike the warlike and treacherous
tribes across the bay; and from that time forth there
never was, not even at the time of the general outbreak
of the savages in 1629, any serious trouble between the
whites and the Indians of the eastern shore. The climate
also was much more salubrious than that of the swampy
region where the brackish waters at Jamestown bred
malaria. As for sustenance, they found the place an
earthly paradise. In the light and sandy soil corn, vege
tables, and many varieties of fruit grew with little care of
cultivation and in great abundance. Fish and sheU-fish
of every kind abounded in the ocean, bay, and inlets.
Wild fowls of many sorts, from the lordly wild goose to
the tiny teal, swarmed in the marshes and along the coast.
Game in great abundance, furred and feathered, could be
had for the shooting of it upon the land ; the fig and the
pomegranate grew in the open air. And the influence of
the Gulf Stream, which in passing these capes approaches
to within thirty miles of the coast and then turns abruptly
eastward, made, as it still makes, residence upon the east
ern shore of Virginia most charming and delightful. The
eastern shore men were the epicures of the colony. A
hundred years before New York knew the terrapin, it was
the daily food in Accawmacke.
We may be sure that the less fortunate settlers at
Jamestown, Smithfield, Henricopolis, Flower de Hundred,
and the Falls of the James were not long in finding out
the delights of this, at first, despised settlement in Accaw-

THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE 15
macke. History teUs us that when, twenty years later,
the colony of Virginia was divided into eight colonies,
" to be governed as are the shires in England," the Ac
cawmacke settlement was of sufficient importance to con
stitute of itself one of these eight counties ; and in 1643,
when the whole colony had a population of but fifteen
thousand, one thousand of these were upon the eastern
shore. When Captain Edmund Scarburgh, presiding jus
tice, opened the first County Court of Accawmacke at
Eastville, the county seat, in the autumn of 1634, The
Laughing King of Accawmacke had no doubt ceased to
laugh ; for he, like many another savage chief before and
after him, had by this time felt the fangs of the British
buU-dog sink deep into the vitals of his kingdom, and be
came sensible of the fact that it was a grip which, once
fastened upon its prey, never relaxed its hold.
Rare old records are those of Captain Edmund Scar
burgh and his successors, and very curious reading do
they furnish. You may see them, reader, if, instead of
flashing and dashing over every other country in search
of novelty, you will seek the things which are interesting
in your native land, within a stone's throw of your door.
There they are, preserved to this day, in the little brick
court house, and are continuous from then until now,
without a break, preserving the history of their section
intact through a period of nearly three centuries.
The Peninsula is no longer a single county. About
1643, ambitious Colonel Obedience Robins, from North
amptonshire, England, succeeded in changing the name
of the Peninsula to Northampton. It was not until 1662,
when the eastern shore of Virginia was divided into two
counties, that the upper portion resumed the old title of
Accawmacke, which it retains to this day. The lower part
of the original Acca-wmacke is still caUed Northampton.

16 THE END OF AN ERA
Nowhere is the type of the original settler in Virginia
so weU preserved, or are to be found the antique customs,
manners, and ways of the Englishman of the seventeenth
century in America so little altered, as in the Kingdom
of Accawmacke. No considerable influx of population
from anywhere else has ever gone to the eastern shore
of Virginia since the year 1700. The names of the very
earliest settlers are still there. Everybody on the Pen
insula knows everybody else. Everybody there is kin to
everybody else. Nobody is so poor that he is wretched ;
nobody is so rich that he is proud. The majority of the
upper class are stanch Episcopalians, just as their fathers
were Church of England men ; and the remainder of the
population are for the most part Methodists, Baptists,
and Presbyterians.
The vices of the community, as well as the virtues, are
equaUy well-recognized inheritances from their progeni
tors. Fighting and drunkenness are by no means absent,
but theft is rare among the whites. The kinship and
sociability of the population are such that the fondness of
the Englishman for sports of all kinds is freely indulged.
No neighborhood is without its race-boat ; no court day
without its sporting event of some kind ; and no tavern
without its backgammon board, quoits, and, in old times,
its fives-court. The poorhouse has faUen into decay.
When a man dies, his kin are sufficiently numerous to
care for his family ; and while he lives, there is no excuse
for pauperism in a land where earning a living is so easy
a matter. The citizen of Accawmacke may begin life with no
other capital than a cotton string, a rusty nail, and a
broken clam, and end it leaving a considerable landed
estate. With his string for a line, his nail for a sinker,
and his clam for bait, he can catch enough crabs to eat,

THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE 17
and sell enough besides to enable him to buy himself
hooks and lines. With his hooks and lines he can catch
and seU enough fish to buy himself a boat and oyster
tongs. With his boat, fishing-lines, and oyster tongs he
can, in a short while, catch and sell enough fish and oysters
to enable him to build a sloop. With his sloop he can
trade to Norfolk, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York,
sell fish, oysters, and terrapin, and carry fruit and vege
tables, until he has accumulated enough to buy his own
little patch of ground, and build his house upon it.
Then, from the proceeds of his fruit, berries, and every
variety of early vegetable, for which he will find excellent
markets, he is sure of a comfortable living with easy
labor ; and he will be happier in his simple home than
many who are far more pretentious, and whose incomes
are far greater.
Such has been for three centuries, and still is, the place
and people among whom my lot was cast when I arrived
from Brazil, — descendants of the families of Scarburgh,
Littleton, Yeardley, Bowman, Wise, West, Custis, Smith,
Ward, Blackstone, Joynes, Kennard, Evans, Robins, Up
shur, Fitchett, Simpkins, Nottingham, Goffigan, Pitts,
Poulson, Bowdoin, Bagwell, GiUett, Parker, Parramore,
Leatherbury, Cropper, Browne, and the rest of them, who
were there when Charles I. was king, and who gave the
name of Old Dominion to Virginia because they refused
to swear allegiance to the Pretender Cromwell, and made
the colony the asylum of the fugitive officers of their
lamented sovereign.
Poor enough pay they got for their loyalty ; for, when
Prince Charlie came to his own, although Sir Charles
Scarburgh, son of old Captain Edmund of blessed mem
ory, was Court Surgeon, and although Colonel Edmund
Scarburgh, his brother, was made Surveyor-General in

18 THE END OF AN ERA
Virginia, in recognition of his fidelity, the reckless sov
ereign gave away the devoted Kingdom of Accawmacke
to his favorites, Arlington and Culpeper. To this day,
one of the loveUest places upon the Peninsula, on Old
Plantation Creek, bears the name of Arlington, bestowed
upon it by John Custis, in honor of one of the proprie
tary lords of the eastern shore.
A famous local celebrity in his day was this old John
Custis, — feasting and junketing at lordly Arlington.
When, in 1649, Colonel Norwood, seeking asylum in
Virginia after King Charles's defeat, was shipwrecked
upon the coast of the eastern shore, he first secured abun
dant clothing from Stephen Charlton, a minister of the
Church of England, and his sufferings were atoned for,
he says, by finding John Custis at Arlington. He teUs
us how he had known him as a tavern-keeper in Rotter
dam, and of the high living he had with Custis in his new
home until he put him across the bay to Colonel Worm-
ley's, more dead than aiive from hospitality.
From the point of Cape Charles to the Maryland bound
ary, the coast of the Peninsula on sea side and bay side
is indented with inlets, which are caUed " creeks " in this
section. On the bay side, going northward from the cape
where the oldest settlements were made, the names of
these creeks are English, such as Old Plantation, Cherry
stone, and Hungers, Higher up the bay side, the names
given by the Indians before the white settlements seem to
have been retained; for we have successively Occahan-
nock, Nandua, Pimgoteague, Onancock, Chesconessex, An-
namessex, and Pocomoke as the names of the beautiful
and bold inlets on the bay side. On the sea side, they
rejoice in such titles as Assawamman, Chincoteague, and
the like. These numerous inlets, many of which are na-vi-
gable for vessels of considerable size, are but a few miles

THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE 19
apart, and divide the Peninsula into many transverse
" necks." Thus it often happens that neighbors living
on opposite sides of these creeks, within hailing distance
of each other, find it necessary, in order to visit each other
by land, to travel miles around the head of the creek divid
ing them. Small boats are, therefore, as much in use as
means of intercourse between neighbors, and for visiting
the post-offices and little towns at the wharves, as are
horses and vehicles ; and an eastern shore man is as much
at home in a boat as upon the land. The public roads of
the counties are called Bay Side and Sea Side roads, and
their general course is up and down the Peninsula, just
inside of the heads of the creeks. The only transverse
public roads are those to the wharves, and an occasional
cross road from the Bay Side to the Sea Side road.
It by no means follows, from the general use of boats,
that the travel by land is diminished ; for in no place is the
proportion of wheeled vehicles to population greater than
upon the eastern shore. Poor, indeed, is the citizen who
cannot own, or cannot occasionally borrow, an animal and
a vehicle of some kind. Strangers, visiting that section
for the first time, get the impression that at least half the
population is continuaUy driving back and forth upon the
highways ; and the number and variety of animals and
vehicles collected at the county seat on court day is some
thing truly astonishing. The speed at which the driving
is done is likewise a matter of comment and observation
by many visitors to the eastern shore.
People from the Blue Grass regions, where size and
bone and symmetry count for so much in horseflesh, are at
first disposed to look contemptuously upon the Accomack
type of horse ; and, indeed, it must be confessed that he
is not the highest expression of physical beauty. But
never was the Scripture saying, that " the back is fitted

20 THE END OF AN ERA
to its burden," better exemplified than in the tough and
wiry little animal which you will sit behind, if you ever
make a visit to this far-away kingdom. Small in stature,
inclined even to those homely features known as ewe neck
and cat ham, often higher behind than in front, and with
great length of stifle, he is not, I admit, imposing to look
upon. We must carefully scan the cunning- little fellow
before we condemn him. Note, if you please, in the first
place, that the close, shiny coat bespeaks a strong infusion
of the thoroughbred ; observe the large, gazeUe-like eyes
beaming- beneath the foretop, which is fluffy and shaggy
from the constant influence of salt sea air; watch the
nervous playing of the pointed ear, and see how the
broad forehead tapers away to the muzzle, with its wide
and flexible nostrils ; observe the clean, straight legs and
flat knees before, and bent stifles, well muscled, behind ;
run your hand over those pasterns, long, limber, and
without a windgall ; and do not overlook the cup-like,
often unshod, hoofs. What say you to those sloping
shoulders, that deep chest, and those well-rounded ribs,
close coupled to the heavy hips ? When you have fin
ished, you will not ridicule a moving machine like that, if
you know good horseflesh when you see it. You may call
him pony if you like. Many of them do, indeed, possess
a cross derived from the wild pony of Chincoteague
Island. Now, I see you turn to look at the light convey.
ance, with its almost fragile harness, and know you are
wondering whether such an outfit, drawn by such a horse,
will take you to your destination. One drive will dissi
pate every doubt. You are starting for a journey in a
country where there is not a hiU twelve feet high within
fifty miles, over light, weU-packed sand roads, on which,
in many places, you could hear an egg-shell crush beneath
the wheel.

THE KINGDOM OF ACCAWMACKE 21
Come, mount with me. Never fear that our vehicle
and harness are frail. They are light, but not fragile. In
the matter of our driving we are exquisites, and we buy
the toughest and the best. Never fear that we shall be
overturned, or that we shall hurt the horse. Hurt him ?
I love him as the apple of my eye ; and he knows me as
the Arab steed knows his rider. See how the little rascal
snuffs for a caress, as I loosen him from the fence where
he and a long line of his companions are made fast. Now
we have backed him out into the roadway. Gentle as a
lamb, quick as a kitten, see the little bundle of nerves
start the instant the reins are gathered, and how, with
that squat between the shafts, and spraddle, and over
reach in the hind legs, known to every horseman as the
surest sign of going, he is settled to his work, and spin
ning us along at a slashing gait. Before long, twenty
miles lie behind us, and when we pull up at Belle Haven
or Horn To-wn, not a sign of weariness or punishment
does the little beggar show. All that he asks — and he
asks that in a way that no one can mistake his -wish — is
that we loosen his check-rein and let him stretch that
bony neck, and give a long, deep heave, before he takes
thirty swallows from the roadside water-trough. Then he
rubs his neck against my sleeve, and his unclouded eye
says, " Come, I am ready. Let us go again."
Let me tell you, also, that the horse is not the only
thing which you will find better than it looks in the King
dom of Accawmacke. The pretty little white-painted,
red-roofed houses are better than they look, as you will
learn when you enter their hospitable portals, and find
them the abodes of refinement and virtue and hospitality.
The quaint, flat farms are better than they look, as you
will learn when you see the bountiful crops of fruit and
high-priced early vegetables and berries which they pro-

22 THE END OF AN ERA
duce. The sea side and the bay side are even better
than they look, as you wiU know when you learn the
wealth of fish and sheU-fish and sea food and game of
which they are the storehouses. The people themselves
are better than they look ; for, beneath their unassuming
and oftentimes provincial appearance, they possess great
shrewdness, great powers of observation, strong char
acter, decided opinions, refinement, and considerable edu
cation ; and, without one tinge of false pride, they are of
a lineage as old and as honorable as any of which Amer
ica can boast.
Two things, also, you will find in this locality which
can be no better than they look. One is the daybreak
and sunrise from the sea, and the other is the exquisite
sunset which lights land and ocean as the orb of day sinks
out of sight to the west beneath the waves of the Chesa
peake. Not sunny Italy, with aU her boasted wealth of
color, can surpass the many-tinted loveliness of evening
in the ancient Kingdom of Accawmacke, to which, for
some years to come, my residence was now transferred.

CHAPTER ni
OUR FOLKS IN GENERAL AND IN PARTICULAR
Our folks have been in Old England since the days of
Alfred, and in America since Thomas West, Lord de la
War, was governor of the Virginia colony in 1608, when
numerous brothers, cousins, and relatives foUowed him
hither in search of the treasures of the still undiscovered
South Sea.
There and here, for centuries, in peace and in war, they
have never failed to be mixed up in the thick of whatever
game the English stock has played.
They have lived and died in Devonshire and Somerset
shire for nearly ten centuries. Until its recent destruc
tion to make way for the government buildings, the old
family nest at Plymouth was almost as well known to
Englishmen as the banks of the Tamar itself. Burke
tells us the name is among the oldest in England.
The first American ancestor of our name was a younger
son of these old Devonshire people, and came to the Vir
ginia colony in the reign of Charles the First. The an
cient shipping-lists show that he sailed from Gravesend,
July 4, 1635, after first taking the oath of allegiance to
king and church. He was a lad of eighteen, who, yield
ing to the spirit of adventure which then prevailed in
England, joined his friends, the Scarburghs of Norfolk,
in the Kingdom of Accawmacke.
Two hundred and sixty years of separation ordinarily
works considerable estrangement, and difference in char-

24 THE END OF AN ERA
acteristics, between the separated branches of a family.
Not so with our people. If they possess one predominant
trait, it is their faith in and attachment to anybody and
everybody bearing the name, or sjiringing from the old
stock. But for the evidence it gives of stanchness in love
and loyalty, the way in which the old ties are kept up, to
this day, between the English and American branches
would seem absurd. Descendants in the eighth degree
since the separation recognize the kinship ; and the Eng
lish cousins welcome the Americans to hearth and home,
taking no note of the two and a half centuries which have
elapsed since the American immigrant wandered off from
his English home, and placed the Atlantic Ocean between
himself and his family.
And let me tell you, you boys of America, that there is
no higher inspiration to any man to be a good man, a good
citizen, and a good son, brother, or father, than the know
ledge that you come from honest blood. Few who have
it scorn it, and many of those who are loudest in belittling
it would give all they have to possess it. And, boys, let
me tell you another thing. When you are hunting for
that honest blood, when you are looking back into the
wellsprings of your existence for the source of the virtue,
the courage, the manhood, the truth, the honesty, the
reverence, the family love, the simplicity of life, which
will make you what true men ought to be, believe me, you
are more apt to find it in the progenitors who came from
" the right little, tight little island " than anywhere else
on this rolling planet.
Don't deceive yourselves with the notion that England
did not furnish the best of us. We have had our trou
bles with her in the past, it is true. But it is hard for
the mother to realize that her boy is grown, and accord
him his rights as a man. She sometimes makes it very

OUR FOLKS IN GENERAL AND IN PARTICULAR 25
uncomfortable for him by failing to recognize that he is
no longer in his swaddling-clothes. But there is not a
true-hearted boy iu the world who, in spite of his mo
ther's shortcomings, does not feel in his heart that there
is no other like her.
Don't take my word for it, if you think I am an old
fogy. Wait until you grow up and see the world for
yourselves. Travel through Russia, or Turkey, or Austria,
and you wiU never see a thing to stir your heart with a
desire to be one of them. Stand in the shadow of the
Pyramids, and you wUl be untouched by one wish that
your blood were Egyptian. Go through Germany, and,
while you will find there much to admire, there will still
be something lacking. In the home of the fickle Gaul,
even at Napoleon's tomb, the American boy is not in
touch with his surroundings. Spain and Italy, while pos
sessed of a wealth of antique beauty, are to us only echoes
of a decayed and different civilization.
But, some sunny day in London, wander through West
minster Abbey and read the names. Some misty morning
in Trafalgar Square, cast your eye upward to the form of
Nelson, as he stands there in the fog, with the lions sleep
ing at the base of his column. In some leisure hour, visit
the crypt of St. Paul's, where the car that bore Wellington
to his rest stiU stands. Then, perhaps, you will appre
ciate the meaning of an old fogy when he tells you,
" There 's nothing outside America which tugs at an
American's heart-strings like the names and deeds and
monuments of Old England."
Don't let us deceive ourselves about it, either. Don't
. ; r r I think or say that it is a better country than our own.
Don't let us be Anglomaniacs. That is not at all neces-
, , sary. America is good enough for us. In many things
, , , , , these blessed United States already equal any nation on

26 THE END OF AN ERA
the globe. In almost everything, time considered, they
are a marvel. Within the past seventy years, American
inventive genius has contributed more to make life easy,
and to advance ci-vilization, than all the world beside in
many hundred years, if we except the inventions of print
ing and gunpowder. In future we may, and probably
shaU, become in aU things the greatest nation that ever
existed. But it is not disloyalty to your own country,
and no disparagement of its greatness, to thank God that
the people from whom we sprang were EngUshmen, and
that we have part and lot in England's glory.
In all America, there is no spot more emphatically Eng
lish than the Kingdom of Accawmacke. Nay, more : there
is many a spot in England to-day where the manners and
customs of the population have changed more from what
they were in the seventeenth century, than those of that
little peninsula in America. Of the twenty-five thousand
white people in the two counties of the eastern shore of
Virginia, it is safe to say that four fifths of them are de
scendants of the earliest English settlers, and that there
has been less infusion of foreign element there within the
last three centuries than in many parts of England itself.
But a few years ago, this writer sat in the old church at
Bishops Lydeard, Somersetshire, and looked over the
congregation. The resemblance in appearance between
the people assembled there and the congregations he had
often seen in the Episcopal Church at Eastville, the first
county seat of Accawmacke, and in the Bruton Parish
Church at Williamsburg, was striking.
The first John Wise married Hannah, eldest daughter
of Captain Edmund Scarburgh. In 1655, we find him
locating his grant from Governor Diggs on Nandua Creek,
and in 1662, he was one of the first presiding justices of
the newly formed county of Accawmacke. In this year,

OUR FOLKS IN GENERAL AND IN PARTICULAR 27
also, the Indian chief Ekeekes, for " seven Dutch blan
kets " sold him the two thousand acre tract on Chescones-
seck, named " Clifton " by its new purchaser, — a tract of
which the greater part descended without deed frora father
to son for six generations, until sold to pay the debts of
the seventh heir, who was kiUed in 1864 in the American
war between the States.
John, eldest son of the emigrant, married a Matilda,
daughter of Lieutenant-Colonel John West, and died in
1717. Their son John married a Scarburgh, daughter
of Colonel TuUy Robinson, and died in 1767. Their son
John married a Margaret, daughter of Colonel George
Douglas, and died in 1770. Their son John married fii'sfc
a Mary, daughter of Judge James Henry, and then a
Sarah, daughter of General John Cropper, and died in
1818 ; and their son Henry, a younger son, was my father.
Related to a great number of the people of his county ;
known to aU ; honored and respected for his high charac
ter ; and beloved for his widely known talents and elo"-
quence, which had reflected honor upon the community, —
father's return from Brazil to his home in Accomack was
the occasion of great rejoicing and festivities upon the
eastern shore.
No more beautiful spot for a dwelling-place can be
found anywhere than his home named "Only." It is
located upon a bold estuary of the Chesapeake, caUed
Onancock Creek, which comes down westwardly from its
source, and, upon reaching Only, makes a graceful turn^
first southward, then westward, then northward, and^
curving like a horseshoe, incloses within its bend five
acres of ground, with banks high above the stream and
level as a table, on which stands a grove of noble oaks- of
the original growth.
In the neck of the horseshoe, with the grove behind it

28 THE END OF AN ERA
and a fan-shaped lawn of greensward before it, stood the
mansion house. It was not a stately structure. There
are few such among the simple folk of this Peninsula.
But it was a model of scrupulous neatness, every way fit
for the residence of an unpretentious country gentleman,
and, outside and inside, gave evidence of taste and refine
ment. On the eastern side of the lawn, a terraced garden
ran down to the water's edge ; and about the porches,
roses, cape jessamines, and honeysuckles climbed in great
luxuriance. Adjoining the house were the kitchen and
quarters of the household slaves, and outside the lawn,
beyond the terraced garden, were the barns, carriage-
houses, stables, and cattle-pens. Still further away were
the quarters occupied by the plantation slaves. Looking
upstream, other pretty points were visible, on which, in
groves, the picturesque dwellings of the neighbors were
seen ; and in the further distance was the viUage of
Onancock, with its steeples, and sandy streets, and red-
topped houses, and wharves swarming with boats of all
sizes from the schooner to the skiff. Westward from
Only, the stream courses broad and shining between slop
ing banks, on which, here and there, their greensward
often coming down to the water's edge, stood other homes,
which looked smaller and smaller in the distance. Far
away, beyond a dim point of pines marking the mouth of
Onancock Creek, the sparkling whitecaps of the bay are
visible, with the sails of commerce passing up and down,
or turning in and out of the entrance to the creek.
On the beautiful November morning determined upon
for welcoming my father on his return to the United
States, relatives, neighbors, friends, clients, and political
adherents began to assemble at Only.
Bright and early, activity was visible on the plantation.
Under the wide-spreading oaks, long tables were impro-

OUR FOLKS IN GENERAL AND IN PARTICULAR 29
vised, covered with snowy linen, and groaning with every
thing good to eat. At several points under the bluffs, pits
were dug where beeves and sheep and pigs were bar
becued, and oysters and clams and crabs and fish were
cooked by the bushel. Great hampers of food, sent from
the village, or from the homes of neighbors, stood about
the tables, ready for distribution when the feast should
begin. The house itself, decorated with flowers and
evergreens, was thrown wide open to the guests, and in
the rooms of the first floor was spread a collation for the
more distinguished visitors.
By eight o'clock in the morning, the earliest of the
guests hove in sight. By ten o'clock, the grandees of
the county began to arrive.
There were Colonel Joynes, the county clerk ; Lorenzo
BeU, the county attorney ; the Arbuckles, the Custises ;
the Finneys, the Waples; the Corbins from near the Mary
land line ; the Savages from Upshur's Neck ; the Crop
pers from Bowman's Folly on the seaside ; the Sneads
from Mount Prospect; the Upshurs from BrownsviUe;
the Baylys from Mount Custis ; and the Yerbys, the
Nottinghams, the Goffigons, the Kennards, and Smiths,
from Northampton. But why enumerate ? Their name
was legion.
By midday the stables and stable-yards were filled ;
and the horses, fastened to the front-yard fence, formed a
continuous line ; while the creek about the grove was liter
ally fiUed with small craft ranging from canoe to "pungy,"
and a steamboat had arrived from Norfolk with a great
company and a band of music. This band, playing in the
grove, was an endless source of wonder and delight to
many of the primitive people, who heard a brass band
that day for the first, and no doubt, in some instances,
the last time in their lives.

30 THE END OF AN ERA
Within the house, father and mother held a long levee,
welcoming old friends, and stirred to their hearts' depths
by the simple ovation of which they were the recipients.
Without, under the shade of the trees, hundreds of vis
itors, after paying their respects to the host and hostess,
walked or sat about and chatted with each other.
We may be sure that not the least theme of their con
versation was politics ; for not only was it in Virginia
where everybody talked politics everywhere, but it was
just at the period when Americans were carrying all
before them in Mexico, and the Whigs were about to
elect old " Rough-and-Ready," and snatch political con
trol from the Democracy. Nor was there lack of party
differences among the assembled guests, to give spice to
the discussions. Hot and heavy was the argument be
tween " Chatter BiU " Nottingham and " Monkey " John-
son, as to which national party was entitled to the honors
for the American triumph in the Mexican war. Every
body had his nickname in these days.
Colonel Robert Poulson, the county representative in
the legislature, had his group around him, as, red in face
and solemn of mien, he ventilated his views on the best
method of protecting the Virginia oyster-beds from Mary
land poachers. Captain Stephen Hopkins, the largest
vessel-owner of the county, had his admiring coterie, who
insisted upon hearing his opinion, which he gave modestly,
as to the prospect of a rise in the price of corn in the
Baltimore market. Not far away, a noisy group of young
sters were bantering each other as to the respective merits
of two saucy centreboard skiffs that rode proudly near
the shore, and it was not long before a race between the
Southerner and the Sea-GuU was a fixed event of the
future. As the day wore on, and when the multitude had been

OUR FOLKS IN GENERAL AND IN PARTICULAR 31
fed, a movement from the house to the grove indicated
that something important was about to occur. The host
and hostess and the distinguished guests moved out to an
improvised platform under the oaks, and there began the
formal ceremonies of welcome.
Colonel Joynes, the venerable county clerk, as of course,
caUed the gathering to order, when the stragglers had all
drawn near. Then came the introduction of a young
feUow from Hampton, afterwards somewhat known as a
poet, who read an original poem lauding Virginia and
her honored son. Then followed a brief address of wel
come from young Bell. And then father stood up, facing,
for the first time after years of absence, the people among
whom he was born ; the kin who had loved him from his
infancy; the constituency who had made his briUiant
career possible; the people who stiU had faith in him,
and had come so far to do him honor.
It was an impressive scene. Restraining himself, and
laboring under the deep emotion such interest in himself
was weU calculated to arouse, he drew his audience to him
with the simple speech which the skilled orator so well
knows to be the most effective at the outset. Then, grad
ually warming up to his theme, he pictured the yearning
of his heart for these old scenes during his long exile in
foreign lands ; reviewed his work abroad in the interest
of humanity ; his desire to see the infamous slave trade
abolished ; his hope for some scheme by which the curse
of slavery might ultimately be removed without wrong to
the owner; his realization of the glorious work accom
plished by the Union arms in Mexico during his absence ;
his deep sense that, with restored health and the youth
remaining to him, there was still much of his life's work
before him ; his gratitude to God for this restoration to
his own people ; his deep emotion at this evidence of their

32 THE END OP AN ERA
continued trust ; and his abiding faith in their further
confidence in him. He concluded with a briUiant and
genuine tribute of affection for a constituency so true and
so confiding. His audience were wrought into a burst of
thunderous applause, which was renewed and renewed as
the band played, " Carry Me Back to Old Virginia."
The formal ceremonies over, the visitors gradually dis
persed, and quiet reigned once more at Only.
It is the death of that era — a death which begun with
my birth, and was complete before I attained manhood —
that is to be chronicled in the following pages.

CHAPTER IV
MT MOTHER: FIRST LESSONS IN POLITICS
The autumn of 1850 brought an event freighted with
deep significance to me. My mother died. Although I
was but four years old, it made a profound impression,
and it exercised an incalculable influence upon my after
life. My mother was a Northern woman, daughter of
Hon. John Sergeant, a distinguished lawyer, and for
many years representative in Congress from Philadel
phia. Her people were of New England blood, identi
fied with the earliest and most important events of the
Plymouth Colony.
She had been taught to practice economy, simplicity,
and scrupulous neatness and order. She was deeply
religious, charitable, sympathetic, highly sentimental, and
withal ambitious. She was one of those beautiful, refined
creatures for which the City of Brotherly Love is famous.
Hers was one of those extraordinary natures whose physi
cal comeliness seems to make no injurious impression
upon loveliness of character. Indeed, both in herself and
with those about her, consideration of her appearance was
subordinated to appreciation of her moral and intellectual
beauty. It was seven years after her marriage before she fully
realized the vast difference between the life in which she
had been reared and that into which her marriage had
brought her. For, prior to their departure for Brazil,
father, being in Congress, had resided for the most part in

34 THE END OF AN ERA
Washington, and had no fixed establishment in Virginia.
In BrazU, social conditions had been strange to herself
and husband alike. It was only on my father's return
from Brazil — when the Virginia establishment was re
sumed — that she realized the vastly altered terms of her
existence. It is fortunate it was so. It gave time for her
wifely love to become fixed and deepened beyond disturb
ance ; and residence in Brazil undoubtedly took away
the shock of slavery as it existed at home. Coming now
to a knowledge of Virginia slavery, it was much less re
pulsive than it would have been if she had been trans
planted direct from Philadelphia. Not-withstanding this
gradual change, the contrast was strong enough to make
her fully realize the difference between the duties and the
pleasures of her new home and those to which she had
been accustomed in girlhood. Of the society about her,
she had nothing to complain. The good old people were
of excellent social position, and Philadelphia was their
social rendezvous. Many of them were acquaintances of
her family. They were neighborly and congenial enough,
and the means of intercommunication were excellent.
One of lighter tastes, and less serious purpose and sense
of duty, could easily have found, in her new surroundings,
all the social enjoyment she desired, and might have been
quite happy and free from care.
But it was not so with the mistress of Only. She Lad
too much of the old Puritan blood in her to ignore the
word " duty." She adored her husband, and was as ambi
tious as himself, which is saying a great deal. She knew
that, if he was to maintain his professional and political
prominence, she must assume her share of the duties of
their domestic life ; and when she fully realized what that
meant for her, she doubted her ability to bear the burden
it imposed; but, asking God to sustain her, resolved to try.

MY MOTHER 35
With the abundance of servants at her command, the
care of her children was a task comparatively easy. But
it was these very servants who were the chief cause of
her anxieties. They were slaves. When she had con
sented to marry her husband, she had not fully consid
ered, perhaps, the difference between conducting a Phi
ladelphia household and being mistress of a Virginia
plantation. At the former place, an impudent or sick or
worthless servant might be discharged or sent to a hospi
tal, and the place supplied by another. Here, a discharge
was impossible. Beside the necessity for discipline, every
requirement, whether of food or clothing, or care in sick
ness, had to be supplied to these forty servants, who were
as dependent as so many babies. In those days, slavery
was not looked upon, even in Quaker Philadelphia, with
the shudder and abhorrence one feels towards it now. It
had not been a great while since it existed in Pennsyl
vania. A few slaves were still owned in Delaware, and
Maryland and Virginia were slave States. The time had
come, it is true, when it was abolished in Pennsylvania ;
but its existence was a fact so familiar that it produced
no particular protest or expression of abhorrence, and, by
all save a small coterie of abolitionists, was regarded as
probably permanent. Slave-owners mingled with non-
slave-owners upon terms of mutual regard and respect,
unaffected, apparently at least, by any consideration of
the subject of slavery.
Even if my mother had no qualms of conscience con
cerning ownership of negroes, her sense of duty carried
her far beyond the mere supplying of their physical needs,
or requiring that they render faithful service. Forty im
mortal souls, as she viewed it, had been committed to her
guidance. Every time one of these gentle and affection
ate creatures caUed her " mistress," the sense of obliga-

36 THE END OF AN ERA
tion resting upon her, to keep their souls as weU as their
bodies fit for God, echoed back to her tender heart with
alarming distinctness. And in time, sweetly and humbly
as she performed her task, it became very irksome. She
sleeps to-day in Laurel HiU, on the banks of the Schuyl
kill, having died at the early age of thirty-three, and no
one knows how much that sense of duty to her slaves
contributed to her death.
Ah, you who blame the slaveholder of the olden day,
how little you know whereof you speak, or how he or she
became such ; how little aUowance you make for surround
ing circumstances ; how little you reck, in your general
anathemas against the slave-owner, of the true and beauti
ful and good lives that sacrificed themselves, toiling to do
their duty to the slaves in that state of life to which it
pleased God to call them ! There is not a graveyard in
Old Virginia but has some tombstone marking the resting-
place of somebody who accepted slavery as he or she
found it, who bore it as a duty and a burden, and who
wore himself or herself out in the conscientious effort to
perform that duty weU. Mark you, I am not bemoaning
the abolition of slavery. It was a curse, and nobody
knows better than I the terrible abuses which were pos
sible and actual under the system. Thank God, it is
gone. All that I am saying to you now is, you who fought
slavery, as well as you who have heard it described in the
passionate denunciations following its death, realize that
the name of slave-owner did not always, or even in the
majority of cases, imply that the slave-owner was one whit
less conscientious, one whit less humane, one whit less
religious, or one whit less entitled to man's respect or
God's love, than you, who, because, perhaps, you were
never slave-owners, delight to picture them as something

MY MOTHER 37
inferior to your precious selves. After all, it was not
you, but God that abolished slavery. You were his mere
instruments to do his work.
In the case of my mother, her task was somewhat light
ened by the character of her possessions, for the slaves
were of more than usual intelligence, and were, for the
most part, family inheritances.
This was no abode of hardship and stony hearts. No
slaves were sold from that plantation. The young ones
might have eaten their master's head off before he would
have taken money for their fathers' and their mothers'
children. No overseer brandished the whip that is so
prominent a feature upon the stage, or in the abolition
books of fiction.
Back to me, through the mists of nearly half a century,
comes once more the vision of the young Puritan mother,
who foUowed the man she loved into this exile from
every association of her youth, and yet was happy in that
love because she worshiped him next to her God.
Now I see her upon a Sabbath afternoon, with all her
slaves assembled in the hallway, dressed in their Sunday
clothes. Young and old, her own children and her ser'
vants, are gathered about her to listen to the word of
God. I have heard many great orators and preachers in my
day, but never a voice like that of my mother, as she read
and expounded the Holy Word to her children and her
slaves. In later years, I have heard great voices and great mel
odies, but never sweeter sounds to mortal ear than those
of my mother and her children and her slaves, singing the
simple hymns she read out to them on those Sabbath after
noons at Only, in the days of slavery.
Then came the lessons in the catechism taught to chil-

38 THE END OF AN ERA
dren and slaves in the same class, where, before God, the
two stood upon equal terms, the blacks sometimes proving
themselves to be the quicker scholars of the two.
Such was my childhood's home ; and such was many
another home in that land which, year by year, is being
more and more depicted by ignorance and prejudice
as the abode of only the brutal slave-driver and his
victim. The beautiful month of October, 1850, with its wealth
of color and its exquisite skies, rolled round. All seemed
well at home. My father, once more immersed in politi
cal life, was absent in Richmond, a delegate to a great
constitutional convention, where all his energies were
directed towards adjusting the true basis of representation
in the legislature between the sections of Virginia where
slavery existed and those where no slaves were owned.
It was a difficult question, on which he had taken ground
in favor of a manhood suffrage as opposed to suffrage
based upon representation of the property owners. Nearly
every mail brought letters to mother announcing the pro
gress of the fight, in which she seemed deeply absorbed.
The reputation which her husband was making resulted
five years later in his election as governor, and she clearly
foresaw that result. This prospect reconciled her to the
separation, and made her look bravely forward to an
expected event.
One day I missed my mother, and was told that she
was ill. Servants were hurrying back and forth, and
soon the doctor arrived. Bedtime came, and Eliza, the
white nurse, took me away from the nursery adjoining
my mother's chamber, and put me to bed in a strange
room. There, after undressing me, she made me kneel,
and, in saying my prayers, ask God to bless mamma.
When I was tucked away in bed, she sat beside me, and

MY MOTHER 39
Stroked my long tresses, and sighed. It was aU very
strange. " Mammy Liza, is mamma very sick ? " I asked.
" No, my child, I hope not," said she, and then bade me
go to sleep, and soon I closed my eyes.
It was not for long, for in an hour or two I heard
voices in the hall, and hurrying footsteps, and, awakening
and sitting bolt upright in bed awhile, I finally slipped
down to the floor, and made my way, in my thin night-
clothes, into the hall, where I found the servants assem
bled, and weeping as if their hearts would break, uttering
loud lamentations. "What is it, Aunt Mary Anne?"
said I, cold, and shivering with fright. " Oh, my po'
baby, yo' mamma is dead, — yo' mamma is dead! Oh,
my po', po' mistis is dead — dead — dead!" she screamed,
at the same time seizing me, and wrapping me in her
shawl, and bearing me back to the warmth.
Night wore away mournfully enough, until at last, with
a faithful slave beside me, I sobbed myself asleep, cry
ing more because others about me wept, than because I
knew the real cause for my grief. Morning came, and
when I awoke, I could not yet fully understand the solemn
silence of aU about me, or the meaning of the strange
black things I saw. Breakfast over, the old nurse came
to me to go with her and see mamma. In silence, and amid
the sobs of every servant on the place, I and my little bro
ther and sister were led into a darkened room. There,
on the bamboo bedstead whieh she had brought as her
favorite from Rio, lay mamma, apparently asleep, a tiny
baby resting on her breast. By her side, his head buried
in the pillow, and sobbing as if his heart would break, was
my oldest brother, — not her own child, but one who had
loved her as his own mother, and who now mourned a
second mother dead. Gazing out of the half -opened win
dow, dressed in solemn black, stood the physician who had

40 THE END OF AN ERA
sought in vain to save her. I was frightened and awed
beyond utterance.
The next day the Fashion, Captain Hopkins's best
vessel, lay to at the Only landing. A fearful-looking
black box covered with velvet was borne aboard the
Planter with solemn steps. Her sails were hoisted. With
the freshening breeze she bore away, and, as the even
ing sunlight made a shining pathway on Onancock Creek,
the vessel pursued her course westward until she became
a tiny speck and disappeared. They told me that my
mother was in heaven. Since that day, whenever the
route to heaven arises to my mind, I see the white sails of
a vessel gliding westward in the golden pathway made
upon dancing waters by the brilliant sinking sun of a
clear autumn evening.
The home-coming of father, some weeks after this sad
event, was pitiful indeed.
He had been advised of my mother's death by a mes
senger, who rode forty miles down the Peninsula, crossed
the bay to Norfolk, and thence telegraphed to Richmond.
Such were the difficulties of communication, even at that
recent date. When the news first reached him, the body
was on its way to Baltimore, and thither he repaired to
meet it, and accompany it to its last resting-place. After
this, he had been compelled to return to his duties in the
convention at Richmond, a widowed relative having mean
while assumed charge of his family, and holding them
together until he could return.
In the darkness of a drizzling winter evening, after
a long, cheerless ride, he drew near his desolate home.
A chill nor'easter storm, which had lasted for two days,
made the passage across the Chesapeake, in the stuffy
little steamboat Monmouth, exceedingly disagreeable.
The few friends he met at the wharf expressed their sym-

MY MOTHER 41
pathy more by subdued speech and close grasp of the
hand than in actual utterance. A storm-stained gunner,
clad in oilcloth, who had just made his landing from his
goose-blind to ship his game to market, came up to the
carriage and handed in, as tribute of his interest, a beauti
ful brace of brant. As he shook the rain from his tar
paulin, remarking that it was a great day for shooting, he
uttered no word of consolation ; but his manner and his
act were as delicately suggestive of his reasons as if he
had been bred to the manners of a court.
Although the vehicle sent for father was amply sup
plied with curtains, aprons, and robes, the rain beat in
upon him as he drove facing the storm, its cool moisture
not ungrateful to his fevered cheek. Ordinarily, the
homeward ride on such occasions was relieved by cheerful
conversation between master and man concerning domestic
matters and the progress of farm work. To-night, the
weeds of mourning and the sunken cheek and eye had
awed the faithful slave into respectful silence, which the
master seldom saw fit to break. Homeward they sped in
silence, with little to vary the monotonous pitapat of
Lady Ringtail's hoofs in the shaUow pools with whieh the
storm had fiUed the level roads.
He lay back with folded arms and half-closed eyes,
resentfully brooding upon the hard fate which had twice
made him a widower. At a turn of the road they passed
a silver maple, whose faultless form and beautiful coloring
in springtime and in autumn had so excited the admira
tion of his wife that the children had named it " mamma's
tree." It was leafless and bare to-night. A scurrying
blast, shaking it as they passed, blew down from it a
shower of raindrops, as if in mockery.
At the outer farm-gate the driver alighted, and, as
father walked the mare slowly through the open gate, he

42 THE END OF AN ERA
caught sight of the twinkling light which shone from the
chamber where mother had died. It had ever been a
beacon to him in days gone by. There, many a day, had
she sat and watched for his return ; and many a night
had she drawn back the curtain that he might see her
signal first of aU. The sight of it had always warmed
his heart. Now, he almost shuddered at the thought of
returning home. As they entered the yard, and drove
around the circle leading to the doorstep, he turned his
face away from her terraced garden, only to look upon
the arbor, where, in days gone by, she had delighted to
sit and watch the sunsets.
Before the vehicle drew up at the door, news of the
father's and the master's arrival had spread through all
of the household. Wide open flew the doors, and down
the steps, bareheaded and heedless of rain or wind, we
children rushed, shouting " Papa — papa — papa!" and
springing into his arms with rapturous kisses. One by
one we were snatched and hugged and kissed, and pushed
backwards up the steps, with orders to run in out of the
rain, while he busied himself for a moment giving direc
tions concerning his luggage and the care of Lady Ring
tail. Poor little ones ! How insensible they were to the great
calamity that had befallen them ! How little they real
ized his loss or their own ! In the short weeks since our
mother's death, — weeks filled with deep affliction to him,
— our mourning-clothes had become familiar to us ; our
kind old aunt had taken mother's place in all our thoughts
and for all our wants ; our mamma was only a beautiful
vision of the past. We laughed and romped, and greeted
papa with joyous faces ; unconscious alike that we had
cause for sorrow, or that his heart was bleeding afresh at
sight of us.

MY MOTHER 43
The welcome awaiting him within was different from
the joyous babble of the little ones outside. There, almost
dreading to meet him, was the half-grown daughter of his
first marriage. She was old enough to know and feel
what a deep, irreparable loss had come upon her just when
she most needed the love and care and guidance of the
one now dead. It was not, and yet it was, her own mo
ther that had died. And there was the tender-hearted
woman who had come to keep together his little flock
until his return. She had truly loved his wife, and now,
herself a widow, she had seen him twice bereft.
As these two twined their arms about him, and buried
their faces upon his shoulder sobbing, the prattling mo
therless children paused in their merriment to wonder
why their grief should give itself new vent upon an occa
sion so joyous as papa's return.
But let us not dwell longer upon a scene so mournful.
Before leaving Richmond, father had -written home
directing that a chamber should be prepared for himself
as far as possible from his former apartment. He could
not brook the thought of living surrounded by the famil
iar objects of her chamber. Although he had been much
absent of late, and much engrossed in other ambitions, he
was a man devoted to his family, and deeply interested in
his home. He knew, whenever he reflected upon the facts,
that his apparent neglect of these duties of late was be
cause of political objects he could not abandon, and that
his course had been taken with his wife's approval ; but
ever and anon the thought came back to him that she had
been alone when she died, and, in spite of all philosophy,
the memory of that lonely death distressed if it did not
actually chide him. He determined that, even at the
sacrifice of ambition, he would henceforth devote himself
to the duties he owed to his children and his home^ and

44 THE END OF AN ERA
make to her memory the atonement for what he could not
help regarding as neglect of her when she lived.
To this resolution I was indebted for four or five of the
very happiest years of my life. To this day, my fancy
takes me back to that great chamber where father made
me his bedfellow and constant companion ; to that high
tester bedstead where, many a night, tucked away amid
comfortable linen, I watched the great hickory logs flicker
and sputter upon the andirons, and closed my eyes, at
last, lulled by the never-ceasing scratching of father's
goose-quiU pen at a great writing-table in the centre of
the room ; to the delightful half-consciousness of being
folded in his arms when, late in the night, he joined me,
and hugged me to his heart.
We were early risers, we two chums and companions.
By daybreak, the servant came in and built a roaring fire.
By sunrise, father and I were dressed, and out upon the
farm, or at the stables or the cowpens, followed by Boxer
and Frolic, our Irish terriers. The fashionable folk of
to-day affect the Irish terrier, and imagine that they have
a new breed. Father had a brace of them over forty
years ago, and they were sure death to the rabbits of
Only. Many and many a day we came back to breakfast
with one, two, or three moUy-cottontails caught by Boxer
and Frolic in our morning excursions upon the farm.
Then there was hog-killing time, when, long before day,
the whole plantation force was up with knives for killing,
and seething cauldrons for scalding, and great doors for
scraping, and long racks for cooling the slaughtered
swine. Out to the farmyard rallied all the farm hands.
Into the pens dashed the boldest and most active. Har
rowing was the squeaUng of the victims ; quick was the
stroke that slew them, and quicker the sousing of the
dead hog into the scalding water ; busy the scraping of

FIRST LESSONS IN POLITICS 45
his hair away ; strong the arms that bore him to the beams,
and hung him there head downward to cool ; clumsy the
old woman who brought tubs to place under him ; deft
the strong hands that disemboweled him. And so it went.
By the time the sun was risen, how bare and silent were
the pens where hogdom had fed and grunted for so long
a time !
How marvelous to youthful eyes the long rows of clean-
scraped hogs upon the racks ; how cheerful the blazing
fires and boiling pots, and how sweet the smeU of the
hickory smoking in the cold Mr of daybreak ; how merry
and how happy seemed every one upon the place, old and
young, men and women, girls and boys, in the midst of
this carnival of death and grease ! Up with the earliest,
I was one of the busiest men in all the company, — now
frying a pig-tail upon the blazing coals beneath the scald
ing-pots ; now claiming a bladder to be blown up for
Christmas ; now watching the wonderful process of cleans
ing, or lard-making, or sausage-grinding. My ! what ten
derloins and spare-ribs were on the breakfast-table ! my !
how, for a fortnight after hog-kiUing, what sausages and
cracklin, and aU sorts of meat, we had ! The skin of
-every darkey on the place shone with hog's grease, like
polished ebony ; and even Boxer and Frolic grew so fat
they lost their interest in rabbit^hunting.
Then came the lovely springtime, when the ploughing
began, and I followed him about the farm until my poor
little legs were ready to give way beneath me. And the
great red-breasted robins and purple grackle lit in the
new-ploughed ground, from which such sweet aroma rose.
And the golden plover, sweeping past, fell to father's
unerring gun, I scrambling after them through the crum
bling loam.
Then followed the harvest time, when birds'-nests and

46 THE END OF AN ERA
young hares were in the stubble, and when the children
rode upon the straw-loads. And thr summer days, when
father took me saUing in the Lucy Juong, and sea-trout
fishing at the lighthouse, or built and rigged and sailed
for me such boats as no other boy ever had !
After that came the autumn time, when my uncle, a
famous Nimrod, appeared with dog and gun, and taught
me the mysteries of quail-shooting, so that I could tell
how Blanco the setter stood, and how Bembo the pointer
backed, and how Shot retrieved, and taUied about these
things like a veteran sportftian.
And there, also, was our annual visit, in charge of
Eliza, the white nurse, to our grandmother in far-off Phil
adelphia. This was the period of good behavior and
restraint, neither of which I always practiced ; and, as I
viewed it, it bore hard upon my other engagements. A
short city residence was not altogether distasteful to me ;
but there were so many horses to ride, and so many boats
to sail, and so many dogs to work, and so many fish to
catch, and so many things to do at Only, that I looked on
the Philadelphia trip as time wasted from more entran
cing employments. I felt that I was growing rapidly,
and that there were a great many things which I might
grow past, if I did not keep going all the while ; and thus
it was that at seven years old I was regarded as what we
call an enterprising youth.
Nor was I too young to detect that there were marked
differences between methods of life and thought at home,
and those which prevailed in Philadelphia.
My mother's family, especially the dear old grand
mother, to whom my mother's death had been a great
blow, were exceedingly kind, and did everything to make
the visits enjoyable ; but there was a something in their
treatment of us little orphans which approached to pat-

FIRST LESSONS IN POLITICS 47
ronizing, and, young as I was, my pride rebelled against
the idea that any onej could condescend towards us.
One day, when I -i.-feard an aunt refer to me as her " lit
tle savage," I grew furiously angry; and another day,
when the white servant referred to me as a slave-o-wner, I
let her understand that I did not own a slave who was
not her superior in every quality, good manners and
good looks included. These were only episodes in what
were otherwise, on the whole, very happy visits; but,
young as I was, I early learned that between the people
of my father's and my mother's home there was brewing
a feeling of deep and irreconcilable antagonism, the pre
cise nature of which I could not altogether comprehend.
As early as the autumn of 1852, 1 was made very happy
by being sent to school. As was the case in almost every
section of the South, the village school-teacher at Onan
cock was a Northern man. My brother Richard, three
years older than myself, was my companion. We were
furnished with red-topped boots, red neckerchiefs, warm
overcoats, warm caps with coverings for the ears, and tin
luncheon-pails, and never were we more elated than on our
first triumphal march to Onancock, a mile away. As we
passed the farmyards and the fields where our old friends
the slaves were at work, many were the cheery words
spoken to us.
" Dat 's right," said saucy Solomon ; " I spec' you 'U be
as big a man as Mars' Henry hisseK when you is done
school." " You 'd better not pass through Mr. Tyler's yard.
He 's got a pow'ful fierce dog," shouted Joshua.
And the last thing said by old George Douglas, who
was something of a tease, was, " Don't you let none of
them Onancock boys lick you, for you comes of fightin'
stock."

48 THE END OF AN ERA
Thus began our education, and a good beginning it
was ; for we were blessed with a conscientious teacher, a
school at a healthy distance, and at once entered the class
with a red-headed girl, clever as she could be, with whom
I fell in love, and who put me to my trumps every day to
keep her from " cutting me down " in the spelling-class.
Thus passed away the happy days of childhood, — days
unUke those which come to any boy anywhere nowadays ;
days belonging to a phase of civilization and a manner of
life which are as extinct as if they had never existed.
Yet in those times, but nine years before war and
emancipation came, there was no thought that either was
near at hand. My brother and I, on our return from
school, were put across the creek at Onancock wharf.
One sunny evening, we found father at old Captain Hop
kins's store at the wharf, the spot where the village post-
office was kept. He had been rowed up to the village in
his yawl, the Constitution, and was waiting to take us
home with him. The mail had just arrived, and an eager
throng was listening to the news of the presidential elec
tion. The old captain read the returns, which told that
Franklin Pierce was to be the next President, and the
crowd cheered vociferously. Father was called upon for
a speech, and briefly expressed his gratification at the re
sult. The thing which most struck my ear was father's
cono-ratulation of his friends that the election of Pierce
set at rest all fears as to slavery and secession, or concern
ing the abolitionists. He told how Pierce, being a North
ern man, must prove acceptable to the North ; and how,
being sound upon the slavery question, his administration
would allay the fears of the slave-owner, and quiet the
threats of secessionists. Everybody agreed that this was
so, and everybody hurrahed for Pierce and King ; and, as
the Constitution rushed homeward on the placid waters.

FIRST LESSONS IN POLITICS 49
under the strokes of two sable oarsmen, I puzzled myself
to guess what were the fears of the slaveholder, and what
were the threats of the secessionist, and who were the
abolitionists. Now, I was a young- gentleman who, when athirst for
knowledge, held not back. Accordingly, I opened my
inquiries in a series of questions, and received answers
much after the following order : —
" What are the fears of the slaveholder ? "
" Why, my son, there is a small number of fanatics in
the North who demand that slavery be abolished immedi
ately, and the slaveholders are apprehensive of them."
" What is a fanatic, and what is an abolitionist? "
" A fanatic is a wild enthusiast, who will listen to no
thing which interferes with his demands ; and an abo
litionist is one who demands that the slaves shaU be
freed." " Are there many people of that kind in the North ? "
" Yes ; more than we know about."
" Is Pierce that sort of man ? "
" Oh, no. He is not in favor of freeing the slaves."
" Well, now I know what the slaveholder fears, teU me
next what is the threat of the secessionist."
" Young man, you listen too closely. Secession means
that a State, like our Virginia, being dissatisfied with the
way the Union is managed, would withdraw from the
Union, and establish an independent government of her
own, or form a new one with other States which withdrew
with her. Secessionists are men who threaten to do
that." I paused a minute, and thought over aU this ; then,
looking up, said : —
" Well, if we secede, we shall not be the United States
any more, shall we ? "

50 THE END OF AN ERA
" No."
" And if we shaU not be the United States any more,
we shaU not have the stars and stripes for our flag, and
the Old Constitution and the Columbia frigates won't
belong to us any more, will they ? "
" No, not if we secede."
" WeU, now, papa, don't let 's secede. No, sir ; don't
let 's secede. You are not for secession, are you, papa ?
Think of what a horrible thing it would be to give up the
government grandpa and General Washington made, and
the flag, and the ships, and all that, and start another
thing all new, without any history or anything. You are
not a secessionist, I know, because you said you were not.
Are you, papa ? "
" No, no, my boy. Far from it. Nobody loves the
Union better than I do. Nobody has better cause to love
and honor and cherish it. I was reared in the home of a
grandfather who fought for it by the side of Washington ;
I was taught from my earliest infancy to venerate the
flag of the Union. My manhood, at home and abroad,
has been dedicated to its ser-vice ; and God grant that
the Union may never be rent asunder in my day by the
fanaticism of the North or the passion of the South.
Heaven be praised, the election of Mr. Pierce seems to
put at rest aU fears on that score from any direction."
We were nearing the landing. The autumn sun had
sunk into the distant bay. The long shadows of the
grove at Only were thrown towards us across the pooly
waters. Earth, air, and sky were bathed in the glories
of an Italian sunset, as these fervid words fell from
father's lips ; and never in all his life had he spoken
more eloquently or more truly. What he had said
soothed and comforted me, to whom the thought of the
possibility that Virginia could be aught but part of the

FIRST LESSONS IN POLITICS 51
American Union, or that we might lose the American
flag, had never come before.
Thus it was that I learned my first lesson in politics,
and was well and firmly assured that that could not
possibly happen which did actually happen within the
next nine years.

CHAPTER V
THE KNOW-NOTHING CAMPAIGN AND LIFE IN RICHMOND
During the next three years, we had things pretty
much our own way at home, as far as female control was
concerned. The dear old aunt who presided over father's
household, although we loved her very much, was too in
dulgent to be a successful manager of children ; and while
Eliza, the Irish nurse, was firm and strong enough, we
were rapidly growing beyond her control.
Then there was my aunt's son, a most attractive feUow,
just entering upon manhood, — a thorough-paced chUd-
spoiler. It was no uncommon thing for him to take me
to the county seat, or the neighboring viUages, where,
while he pursued his amusements, I found companions
and playmates that were improving neither to manners
nor ideals of life. The association was delightful, never
theless. On these excursions, there was no whim of fancy
which that partial young relative was not more than ready
to gratify. Our attachment was lifelong, and in after
years the deep and abiding interest of my old-bachelor
cousin in aU that concerned me never abated until he died.
At home, I had a thousand things to make boyhood happy.
With the grown-up slaves I was a great favorite ; and, as
was often the case in plantation life, the little darkeys
near my own age were my playmates and companions, and
accepted me as their natural leader and chief. By the
time I was eight years old, I could shoot, and ride, and
fish, and swim, and sail a boat ; I had a yoke of yearling

THE KNOW-NOTHING CAMPAIGN 63
oxen broken by myself ; my own punt in which to go fish
ing; fishing-Unes and crab-nets; a dog and a colt; and
had become a breeder of most prolific chickens. Nothing
pleased me more than dropping corn in planting-time, or
hauling wood and straw with my own team. For months
at a time I would go barefoot, during the summer season,
dressed in brown linen and a straw hat. All this laid in a
store of health and strength that was of great value in
after years. In truth, I was a most bustling, energetic lad,
with no end of vitality, but lacked the parental govern
ment and care of a mother ; and it was a blessed day for
me when my father married again.
My father's third wife was a refined and cultivated
woman, of suitable age, and possessed a most lovable dis
position. It was not long before she established her
dominion in our household, — a dominion of love.
I was taught to observe meal-times; to appear with
hair brushed and face and hands washed ; to attend fam
ily prayers ; to spend less time at the negro quarters ; to
account more precisely for my nomadic wanderings ; to
devote regular hours to studies; and in many ways
to adopt much more orderly methods than I had been
accustomed to pursue of late. AU which came in good
time, for I was soon to become a city boy.
In 1855, a great political contest occurred in Virginia.
A faction known as the Know-Nothing party, or the
American party, had sprung up suddenly, and had tri
umphed in a number of the Northern States. It was a.
secret organization, with oaths and grips and passwords.
Its raUying cry was that Americans should rule America.
Incidental to this watchword was a real or fancied hostil
ity to foreigners, particularly the Irish, and to the Catholic
Church. Until it reached Virginia, it had been success
ful everywhere. Father believed in the teachings of

64 THE END OF AN ERA
George Washington that secret political organizations
were dangerous to republican liberty, and in the teachings
of Thomas Jefferson that no man should be proscribed on
account of his religion. He maintained that neither Irish
men nor other foreigners should be oppressed or ostracized
by reason of their religious faith or their nationality.
The result of the approaching conflict seemed exceed
ingly doubtful when he was chosen as the Democratic
candidate for governor of Virginia. The circumstances
of his selection were not altogether flattering or hopeful.
Many of his political associates preferred him as the man
in their opinion best fitted to make the desperate fight,
but there were others who preferred him because they
believed the struggle was hopeless and secretly desired
his defeat. He accepted the nomination ; and although,
at the outset, the Know-Nothing party had an enrolled
majority of ten thousand of the entire voters of the State,
he entered upon one of the most remarkable campaigns
in Virginia politics, and after a briUiant canvass was
elected by ten thousand majority.
It is seldom a boy nine years old is deeply interested
in politics, but this campaign was one that enlisted the
intense enthusiasm of young and old.
In American politics, we have recurring periods of po
litical " crazes." Of late years we have witnessed several
such. The Greenback craze, the Granger craze, the
Silver craze, have each in its turn arisen, and, for the
time being, made whole communities drunk with excite
ment. Friends of many years are estranged by these
ephemeral issues. They are carried into business, into
church, into the household, everywhere, until entire com
monwealths are so wrought up that even women and chil
dren take part until election day, and after that we hear
no more about them. Such commotions are like brush-

THE KNOW-NOTHING CAMPAIGN 65
fires, which, igniting instantly, burn and crackle and fiU
the whole heavens with smoke, as if the world was on fire,
and then die out as suddenly as they sprung up.
The Know-Nothing craze of 1855 was just such ain excite
ment. Our community was divided into factions. Every
body took sides. Men who had never been known to show
an active interest in politics became intense partisans, and
political discussion went on everywhere. One of the first
results experienced by me was a black eye and a bloody
nose, received in a hard fight with the son of the village
blacksmith. Exactly how the row began, neither of us
could clearly explain ; but we were on opposite sides, and
that was sufficient. It was a drawn battle, for the black
smith interfered, having no intention of losing a valuable
trade by reason of political differences. In the little vil
lage of Onancock, the rival organizations found vent for
their enthusiasm by building and flying two immense
kites, with the names of their respective party candidates
emblazoned on them conspicuously. Many an evening,
after school was dismissed, I saw half of the villagers of
the place out on the green flying their Know-Nothing and
Democratic kites, as if the result depended upon which
flew the highest.
In due course came election day. Father being absent,
the young cousin above referred to represented him at
the poUing-place, and took me with him. In those days,
•voting was done openly, or viva voce, as it was called, and
not by ballot. The election judges, who were magistrates,
sat upon a bench with their clerks before them. Where
practicable, it was customary for the candidate to be pre
sent in person, and to occupy a seat at the side of the
judges. As the voter appeared, his name was called out
in a loud voice. The judges inquired, " John Jones (or
BiU Smith), for whom do you vote ? " — for governor, or

56 THE END OF AN ERA
for whatever was the office to be filled. He replied by
proclaiming the name of his favorite. Then the clerks
enrolled the vote, and the judges announced it as enrolled.
The representative of the candidate for whom he voted
arose, bowed, and thanked him aloud ; and his partisans
often applauded.
All day long I sat upon my cousin's knee, or played
about the platform. Nobody smiled more broadly, or
applauded more vigorously, at votes cast for father ; and
nobody was more silent or haughty when votes were cast
against him. At sundown, the polls were closed, and, to
my infinite mortification, the majority at the precinct was
announced as in favor of the Know-Nothings. The craze
had simply taken possession of the place and run away
with it. The ignorant and the vain had all been captured
by the signs and grips and secret passwords of Know-
Nothingism. For the first time in his life, father was
defeated at his home. I thought we were done for.
When we were safely bundled in the vehicle, and headed
for home, I felt like crying, and the Know-Nothing cheers
still rung in my ears most depressingly. What mortified
me most of all was the fact that I knew of a bantering
compact between the owners of the rival kites that the vic
torious party should own the kite of the vanquished, with
the privilege of flying it tailless and upside down. The
thought of seeing our beloved kite in such ignominious
plight nearly prostrated me. As a matter of fact, the
result at this precinct had been fully anticipated by the
grown folks, and gave them no serious concern as to
the general result. The Know-Nothing majority was
really less than they had claimed. Seeing how I was
cast down, my cousin, holding me between his legs in the
one-seated buggy, endeavored to explain that there was no
cause for alarm. Long before he finished, he discovered

THE KNOW-NOTHING CAMPAIGN 67
that, worn out by the fatigue and disappointment of the
day, I was fast asleep, and in that condition he bore me
into the house in his arms, laid me on the broad settee in
the hall, and covered me with the lap-robe.
More cheering news from other places came thick and
fast in the next few days, and it was not long before I
was delightedly watching the Know-Nothing kite sailed
taiUess and upside down by father's friends.
Then came the preparations for removal of our resi
dence to Richmond for four years.
No life could have been more in contrast with that at
Only than the one to which I was now introduced. Janu
ary 1, 1856, father took the oath of office as governor,
and we proceeded to establish ourselves in the Govern
ment House, as it was called.
It is a fine old structure, simple in exterior, very capa
cious, surrounded by pleasant grounds, fronting the Capi
tol Square at Richmond. The house at Only seemed like
a wren-box contrasted with this great residence. With
play-grounds, and stables, and conservatory, and out
houses, it was indeed a most attractive place. Young
gentlemen nine years of age are not apt to underestimate
their own importance in such a situation, and I was no
exception to this rule. The legislature was in session in
the Capitol, and as a large majority of the members were
in political sympathy with father, I received a great deal
more attention and petting from them than was good for
me. My bump of reverence never was over-developed,
and under the influence of this sort of thing, I rapidly
became very pert. But there were other directions in
which I did not find life " all beer and skittles."
A school was selected where, beside a decided lack of
enthusiasm for any school, I found this particular one not
altogether a bed of roses. Being the best school obtain-

68 THE END OF AN ERA
able, it was attended by the sons of the most prominent
people of the place. And therein lay the trouble. If
their fathers' views had controUed the election of gov
ernor, our residence at Only would have been undisturbed.
The city was the stronghold of Know-Nothingism in Vir
ginia. In a vote of nearly four thousand, father had not
received exceeding nine hundred votes, and they were for
the most part from the humbler classes. The Richmond
Democrats were so few in numbers that they were called
the " Spartan Band." The rural votes gave father his
majority, especially in the splendid yeomanry of the
Shenandoah Valley, among whom very few slaves were
owned. They were the men who afterwards, drawn into
the war to fight the slave-owners' battles, won with their
valor the immortal fame of StonewaU Jackson.
Father had notions about manhood suffrage, public
schools, the education and the elevation of the masses,
and the gradual emancipation of the slaves, that did not
suit the uncompromising views of people in places like
Richmond. It was the abode of that class who proclaimed
that they were Whigs, and that " Whigs knew each other
by the instincts of gentlemen." The slave market was a
flourishing institution in Richmond, fuUy countenanced if
not approved and defended. The majority of Richmond
people hated the name of Democracy, and, almost always
defeated by it, were willing to unite with the Know-No
things or any other party to defeat their enemy the
Democracy. At school, I very soon discovered that the Richmond
city boys were disposed to turn up their noses at me, not
only as a country boy, but because I was my father's son.
I had several fistic encounters with them, and after that,
things went on more smoothly, but not very pleasantly.
There never was such a place as Richmond for fighting

THE KNOW-NOTHING CAMPAIGN 59
among smaU boys. The city is built over a number of
hiUs and valleys, and in those days the boys of particular
localities associated in fighting bands, and called them
selves Cats. Thus there were the Shockoe Hill Cats, the
Church Hill Cats, the Basin Cats, the Oregon HiU Cats,
the Navy Hill Cats, etc.
About this time we were seized with the military fever.
In those days, the State of Virginia had a large armory
at Richmond, and a standing army of a hundred men !
The command was known as the "Public Guard," but
the Richmond boys caUed them the " Blind Pigs." The
syllogism by which this name was reached was unanswer
able. They wore on their hats the letters P. G., which
certainly is P I G without the I. And a pig without an
eye is a bUnd pig. Q E D.
The public guard was as well drilled and cared for
as any body of regulars in the United States army. It
guarded the penitentiary and public grounds, and was a
most valuable organization in many ways.
Captain Dimmock, commanding officer, was a West
Pointer, I think, and the beau ideal of a soldier. His son
Marion and my brother, three years my senior, conceived
the idea of forming a boy's soldier company. Father en
couraged the idea, and caused a hundred old muskets in
the armory to be cut do-wn to the proper size for boys.
Captain Dimmock entered heartily into the scheme. The
boys were drilled assiduously. Their uniform was neat
cadet gray ; and for several years the " Guard of the
Metropolis " was one of the most striking institutions of
Richmond. It always paraded with the Public Guard,
and the precision of its drill astonished and delighted all
beholders. Seven years later, William Johnson Pegram,
the first lieutenant of that company, attained the rank of
brigadier-general in Lee's army before he was twenty-one

60 THE END OF AN ERA
years old, and although killed in battle, is still remem
bered as one of the bravest and most briUiant artillery
commanders of the civil war. Many other members were
utilized as drill-masters at the outbreak of the war, and
subsequently became excellent officers.
Too young to carry a musket, I was made marker of
this famous company, and was as proud of my uniform
and little marker's flag as a Frenchman of the Cross of
the Legion of Honor.

CHAPTER VI
BEHIND THE SCENES
The present generation finds it difficult to realize the
position in the Union occupied by Virginia, even as late
as 1856—60, to which period our narrative now brings us.
People recaU, in a general way, that Virginia was once
the theatre of many historic events ; that she gave birth
to many great men in the early days of the Republic ; and
that she was the chief battle-ground in the civil war.
A romantic interest attaches to her in consequence, and
there is a certain tenderness for Virginia felt towards
no other State, even in sections which were once arrayed
against her.
But from many causes, a decline in her social and polit
ical importance has occurred within the last forty years,
which, in its rapidity and in its extent, presents one of the
most remarkable instances in history. Let us not stamp
it as degeneracy. The day when she produced men of the
type of Lee and Jackson is too recent to justify despair.
It is made doubly difficult to judge her by the charac
ter of the writings concerning her. On the one hand, we
have extravagant eulogiums and fond laments of those
who laud her old-time history and people, and admit no
defects in them ; on the other, the always unfair and
often ignorant denunciations of the anti-slavery folk, who
are unwilling to admit, even at this late day, that any
good could come out of the Nazareth of slavery. Both
are wide of the mark. The social and economic condi-

62 THE END OF AN ERA
tions of Virginia were neither Utopian, as the one loves to
depict, nor bad and vicious, as the other would represent
them. It is undeniably true that, between the two extremes of
society, as it existed there prior to 1865, was an a-svful
gulf, upon one side of which were green pastures and
still waters, and on the other noisome bogs fiUed with
creeping reptiles. It was a condition incompatible with
every theory of republican equality among men, and be
yond question repugnant to the ideas and sensibilities of
free communities.
Whether what has followed wiU ultimately result in a
better civilization is as yet far from settled ; but whether
for better or for worse, it is certain that a social, eco
nomic, and political earthquake, never surpassed in sud
denness and destructive force, burst upon that people,
working changes that have left little trace of what was
there before.
If the Virginian who died forty years ago could re-visit
his native commonwealth, he would find it difficult to
recognize the place where he lived. If he located it by
the streams which still flow to the sea, and the moun
tains stiU standing as sentinels through the centuries, he
would soon learn, even concerning these, that many are
no longer landmarks of Virginia, but, snatched from her
in the hour of her weakness against her will, are now
possessions of an alien State. For the less enduring
things, — for men such as he knew, for their very habi
tations, their mode of life, the fashion of thought of his
day, for its wealth, its refinement, its culture, for its lofty
incorruptibUity and high-mindedness, — he would search
sadly and in vain.
In the day of which I write, Virginia, among the States
of the Union, was, in territorial area, second only to

BEHIND THE SCENES 63
Texas. Her western boundary was the Ohio River ; north
ward, her Panhandle projected high up between Ohio and
Pennsylvania. Her wealth made her credit at home and
abroad above question. Her bonds sold higher in New
York and London than those of the federal government.
Her political importance placed her sons in commanding
positions in the cabinet, on the bench, and as representa
tives to many important foreign governments. In every
national assemblage her voice was hearkened to as that of
a potent and conservative and reliable guide.
Richmond was admittedly the centre of a society unsur
passed in all America for wealth, refinement, and culture.
Nearly every distinguished foreigner felt that his view of
America was incomplete unless he spent some time in the
capitol of the Mother of States and Statesmen. Soldiers,
authors, sculptors, artists, actors, and statesmen sought
Richmond then as surely as to-day they visit New York
and Boston.
The actual population of the city was small. It is diffi
cult to realize that in 1860 Richmond had but thirty-eight
thousand inhabitants. But the truth is, that its real con
stituency was much greater ; for it was the assembling-
point of a large class of wealthy persons who resided on
their plantations upon the upper and lower James, and in
Piedmont, Tidewater, and the South Side.
It is not uncommon nowadays to see references to
Southern society of that period as uncultured, and rather
sensual than inteUectual in its tastes. This historic false
hood, like many others assiduously told for a long time,
may find permanent lodgment in the belief of the future.
No statement was ever more unjust. With inherited
wealth, with abundant leisure, with desire to excel in
directing thought, and to attain that command of men
which knowledge affords, with an innate passion for ora-

64 THE END OF AN ERA
tory, a thorough education was the natural ambition of a
Virginia gentleman. True, his efforts were not directed
towards acquiring practical or scientific knowledge ; for
these were in those days possessed, for the most part, by
men who expected to apply them to earning a livelihood.
But in education in the classics, in the study of ancient
and modern languages, in history, in philosophy moral
and political, in the study of the science of government,
in the learned professions, no men in America were better
equipped than the wealthy Southerners of that period.
It is true, there was no public-school system, and the
reason for it was very plain. The wealth of the upper
classes enabled them to have private tutors. The paucity
in numbers of the lower classes of the whites, and the dis
tances at whieh they Uved apart, rendered pubUc schools
impracticable for them. Education of the blacks was,
of course, contrary to all ideas of slavery. Suppose we
depended upon the wealthy to inaugurate public schools,
— how many should we have ? Yet nobody suspects that
they are indifferent to education. The best proof of the
care of the slaveholding Southerner for education maybe
found in the lives of distinguished Northern men who
grew up fifty years ago. In many instances, they record
the fact that their first employments were as tutors in
wealthy Southern families. The private libraries of Vir
ginia destroyed in the war, or burned in the old Virginia
homesteads, would have filled every public Ubrary in the
North to overflowing. Every current periodical and pub
lication of that day, American and foreign, was upon the
library table of the Virginian not later than it was in
the Northern reading-room.
Conversation at social gatherings did not run to games
and sports, and dress and dissipations, and gossip and
amusements, but to the great events of the day, to the

BEHIND THE SCENES 65
latest productions in literature and art, and to things
worthy of man's noblest thought and discussion. It is an
insult to the memory of those most intellectual people to
describe the men as a breed of swearing, drinking, and
gambling fox-hunters, and the women as pampered, candy-
eating doUs. The per cent, of youth educated at foreign
universities was greater in proportion to white population,
at the outbreak of the war, in Virginia than in Massa
chusetts. This was natural, in view of the greater indi
vidual wealth.
It is true that every enterprise dependent upon what
is known as public spirit, or originating in the demand
or desire of common use, was sadly lacking. Wealthy
people seldom cooperate. Each buys, for private use,
things which all might well use in common if the price
was an important consideration ; and none, perhaps, have
as much, or as good, as aU might more cheaply obtain if
they acted conjointly.
In times of slavery, there never was a decent hotel or
public livery in the South. The private establishments
were so large that their hospitality was deadly to the suc
cess of public houses, or other provision for the public
comfort. Of a thousand or two thousand visitors to the
city of Richmond, not one hundred would seek public
accommodation. They either had town residences of their
own, or were taken in charge by friends and relatives as
soon as they reached the city. Everybody was kin to
everybody. Visitors were ushered into vacant chambers
that were already yearning for them, attended by the ser
vants that were idle in their absence, furnished with equi
pages and horses that needed use and work, and fed of an
abundance that had been wasted before they came. All
this was repaid by their mere presence, which banished
ennui, in those days when public amusements were rare
and inferior.

66 THE END OF AN ERA
The domestic luxury and comfort of these people was
aU that heart could wish for. Their houses were fur
nished sumptuously in every detail. From drawing-room
to chamber, everything was provided which wealth could
wish. Mahogany, rare china and glass ware, massive
silver, and the choicest of damask and linen were found
in the dining-room, which was an important feature of
every home. But there was a singular lack of the elabo
rate ornamentation and gilding so prevalent at present.
The servants were in numbers, in thorough knowledge of
their duties, in considerate care of their guests, and in
respectful deference to their superiors, such as never were
surpassed anywhere, and such as are now found on no
portion of the earth's surface, unless, perhaps, it be in
England. The Virginia cook and the Virginia cooking
of that time were the full realization of the dreams of
epicures for centuries. They also have passed away, like
many of those precious gifts which are too delightful to be
of long continuance. The dress of the period was, con
sidering the opulence of the people, remarkable for its
simplicity. Of diamonds and precious stones and jew
elry there was abundance, and they of the most costly
kind, and in quality the costumes of the women were of
the best ; but neither in number nor in extravagance of
make-up was there any such display, especially in public,
as later times have developed.
Male attire was exceedingly simple. As late as 1858,
several of the old gentlemen wore the queues we see in
pictures of Washington and his contemporaries, but those
instances were exceedingly rare. Among elderly men, no
such thing as a beard was admissible. The clean-shaven
face was almost without exception. Young dandies began
to wear hirsute adornments about the time Ned Sothern
appeared in " Our American Cousin," and made " Lord

BEHIND THE SCENES 67
Dundreary " side-whiskers the fashionable fad. Elderly
gentlemen wore broadcloth, with tall silk hats, high stand
ing collars, and white or black stocks. This was varied
among country gentlemen by broad slouch hats of felt or
straw, and expansive white or nankeen waistcoats. Dur
ing the heated term, a fashionable attire was an entire
outfit of white or brown linen duck.
UntU the year 1858, there was little difference between
the costumes of old and young men, except in neckwear.
Among youngsters, colored cravats were worn. About
that year came, among the ultra fashionables, a remark
able outfit, consisting of short, double-breasted reefing
jackets, trousers immense at the hips and tapering to the
ankles, Scotch caps, and " Dundreary " whiskers. But a
country youth would have scorned such wild imaginings
of tailors. A city man thus equipped, walking beside a
woman in hoops and a broad-faced bonnet, would give
Fifth Avenue a genuine sensation if he reappeared to
day. The private equipages were handsome. Rogers, of Phil
adelphia, and Brewster, of New York, built nearly all of
the carriages in use among the Virginians, and the horses
were Virginia or Kentucky thoroughbreds. There was
rivalry to possess the handsomest teams, and the equi
pages on Franklin Street compared favorably, in number
and style, with those in any city in this country. One
remarkable old lady, a Mrs. Cabell, had a vehicle swing
ing upon immense C-springs, drawn by large Andalusian
mules of her own importation, with liveried coachman and
footmen. But that was never adopted as a model. Even
at that late day, a few people drove to the White Sulphur
in their private vehicles, and a drive of forty miles to visit
friends in the country was a mere episode. The socia
bility of the period was great.

68 THE END OF AN ERA
Concerning the mode of life, there were but two impor
tant meals daily. Breakfast, except for business people or
schoolchildren, was rather late. Morning visiting- among
the ladies was from one o'clock until three P. M. The
dining hour was generaUy at three p. M. From dinner
time until about 7.30 p. M. came a leisure period for
driving- ; and then an informal repast, consisting of tea,
coffee, chocolate, biscuits, sandwiches, and light cakes,
served iu the drawing-rooms. At this hour the family, its
guests and visitors, were generally assembled in their best
dress. The meal, if such a light repast could be so desig
nated, was served by butlers bearing great trays. Every
drawing-room had its " nest " of tiny tables on which
to place the plates and cups. The repast did not even
interrupt the flow of conversation. In pleasant weather,
many of the guests sat upon the porticoes and were served
there. This was the time when young folks, male and
female, interchanged visits.
Music, vocal and instrumental, and dancing varied the
enjoyment of those charming evenings. The wit of the
time was brilliant and refined. There was Littleton
Tazewell, remembered as having declined a proffered cup
of tea by dryly saying : " No, thank you, I would be azwell
without the T." There was Tom August, whose wit was
like Sheridan's. He it was who refused to bet on the
great four-mile race between " Red Eye " and " Revenue"
because, as he said, the result was already certain. When
asked why it was certain, he replied, " The first legal
maxim I ever learned was, ' Id certum est, quod certum
Reddi potest.' " On another occasion, responding to the
frightened inquiry, " Who is that ? " when a neighbor
heard him falling downstairs, he promptly replied, " 'T is
I, sir, rolling rapidly." Sweet Tom August, — courtly
to dames, loving to friends, brave in war, briUiant at the

BEHIND THE SCENES 69
bar, gentle and loving to the last, — green be the grave
that covers thee ! Dying July 31st, he laughed, an hour
before he died, and remarked, " For once, the first and
last of August have come together."
And then there was mincing and primping John R.
Thompson, the poet, and young- Price, now a grave pro
fessor of Columbia, and handsome, dashing Willie Mun-
ford, to-day a white-haired minister ; and Jennings Wise,
and Brandfute Warwick, and John Pegram, — the last
three dead in the battle front before five years had rolled
by. And there were young Randolph Barksdale and
Randolph Harrison, twin ApoUo Belvideres in youthful
beauty. And red-faced George Pickett, in his army
clothes, before Gettysburg immortalized him, leading
his charming petite sister to the piano to flood the house
-with melody like that of the mocking-bird. There, too,
was the brilliant Lucy Haxall, whose exuberant wit made
aU the welkin ring ; and sweet Mary Power Lyons, who
made men better for beholding such exquisite refinement
and maidenly beauty ; and the rich Penn heiress from
New Orleans ; and the gentle Morsons ; and Pages and
Carters and Lees by the score.
In the quiet (Jorners sat matrons smiling on this scene
of pleasure, — Dame Scott, of Fauquier, with her great
white turban, her intellectual face looking Hke a queen's ;
Mrs. Judge Stanard, handsome and charming; Mrs.
James Lyons, young and beautiful as the most blushing
debutante ; stately Mrs. Fowle, of Alexandria, and, by
her side, hospitable Mrs. McFarland, and beautiful and
accomplished Mrs. Seddon, of Goochland. Last, but
by no means least, were the middle-aged and elderly
representative men of the city and State, engaged in
courteous attention to the ladies, or grouped in drawing-
room, Ubrary, or veranda, discussing the living issues of

70 THE END OP AN ERA
the times. There was James Lyons, one of the leaders
of the Virginia bar, the handsomest man of his day ; and
noble-looking John B. Young, who, in the forefront of
his profession, still found time to read Dickens until
he was a walking encyclopaedia of Dickens's wit; and
WiUiam H. McFarland, Richmond's king of hospitality,
portly and imposing, in ruffled shirt and spotless black;
and Judge Robert Stanard, whose very presence was
suggestive not only of the bench, but of a certain weak
ness he had for whist and " Lou " and " Bragg ; " and
George W. Randolph and Roscoe B. Heath, the rising
men of the bar ; and the Reverends Joshua Peterkin and
Charles Minnegerode, spiritual doctors ; and Doctors
Deane and Haxall, doctors of the flesh, — all mingling in
most delightful and refined exchange of courtesy and
thought. Once or twice a week the public band played in the
Capitol grounds. The park was illuminated. The citi
zens generally promenaded up and down the great parade
and enjoyed the music. Our home was opened on such
occasions to father's friends, and with clean-washed face
and most approved attire, I flitted in and out : now petted
in the drawing-room ; now stealing away with a biscuit or
a cake for some Httle pet darkey ; now out in the pubhc
square with my boy acquaintances.
School occupied our mornings, and three afternoons of
the week were allotted to our French. When older, I
should never have begrudged that time to so charming a
companion as MUe. Vassas, the institutrice, but we looked
upon her then as our natural enemy. Afternoons and
Saturdays were left to us to indulge in boyish diversions.
At first, these were harmless and domestic enough. In the
spacious grounds about the Government House, we had
pet pigeons, tame squirrels, a rabbit-warren, an improvised

BEHIND THE SCENES 71
gymnasium, and other things to make home happy. Old
Harry, our slave coachman, often accompanied us on
horseback rides ; and the boys of our acquaintance were
glad to avaU themselves of the attractions at our home.
We were warned against playing in the streets, or wan
dering into other portions of the city, and for a long time
obeyed such commands very well. But in time, I found
many excuses for absence. Between the visits to the
state barracks, where our soldier company drilled, and to
the Penitentiary, where ingenious convicts, without regu
lar employments, built us boats, and engines, and cannon,
and wagons, and aU sorts of toys, there were always plau
sible excuses for frequent and long absences, the real
nature of which were never very closely investigated.
Then came the excitement of another presidential
election. I hear you exclaim, " Now what possible inter
est could a presidential election possess for a boy ten
years old ? " You ask that question because you do not
know the society I am describing. Not a day passed that
I did not hear something about the dangerous condition
of the poUtical situation. Long before James Buchanan
was nominated by the Democrats, I knew that Stephen
A. Douglas, " the little giant," with his views of squatter
sovereignty, could not command the vote of the South
ern Democracy. Father was a warm supporter of Mr.
Buchanan as the representative of the conservative element
of Democracy. Accordingly, when Buchanan was nomi
nated, largely through the influence of the Virginians,
I felt a personal interest in the success of "Buck and
Breck," and was their avowed advocate in aU places.
Richmond was still unreconciled to Democracy ; and the
American ticket, headed by ex-President Fillmore and
Andrew Jackson Donelson, was a hot favorite in Vir
ginia's capital. As for the new and third party, known

72 THE END OF AN ERA
as Republican and led by Fremont and Dayton, it literally
had no following there. Out of the 160,000 votes cast in
Virginia in the presidential election of 1856, only 1800
votes were cast for the Republicans, and they were nearly
aU cast in the Panhandle.
But the supporters of Buchanan and of Fillmore made
a great noise in Richmond. They were united in ridicul
ing Fremont, but divided in all else. Nearly every night,
open-air political speaking took place, with .parades, ban
ners, red lights, and bands of music, and great orators vis
ited the city. From these, and from the political cartoons,
which were very plentiful, I learned a great deal about
Buchanan and Breckinridge, and about Fillmore and
Donelson ; but I was led to regard the candidacy of Fre
mont as a political farce, and chiefly heard of him as
finding woolly horses in the Rocky Mountains, and running
away with Jessie Benton, daughter of Missouri's great
senator. I did not realize that, although the storm of
abolition had not yet assumed full force, it was rapidly
gathering, with its centre in this Republican ticket ; nor
appreciate that, in many Northern States, Fremont was
dra-wing to his support a great following, which, with its
" wide-awake " processions and other demonstrations,
excited an enthusiasm not seen in politics since the time
of " Tippecanoe and Tyler too." Even when the election
occurred and Buchanan was chosen, I did not know that
the real battle had been between Buchanan and Fremont,
and that, for the first time, a solid North had been arrayed
politically against a solid South.
No ; however seriously a scrutiny of the returns may
have affected older and more thoughtful people, young
folks, and many older folks than I, looked only at the
results, and regarded the election of Buchanan as once
more putting at rest the plans of the abolitionist and

BEHIND THE SCENES 73
the fears of the slaveholder. Little did I foresee that
within eight years from the time I was hurrahing for
" Buck and Breck," I should be led in battle by Breck
in an assault on Buck, and upon everything that Buck
and Breck stood for in the great election of 1856.
The result of the election of 1856 gave great satis
faction at our home. In the year 1857, passing through
Washington on our return from the annual visit to Phi
ladelphia, I had the distinguished honor of visiting a
President for the first time. In company with a friend
of father's, we children were taken to the White House.
The President was a charming old gentleman, of very
distinguished appearance. His greeting was cordial and
simple. I looked him over carefully, and wondered why
he had one hazel and one blue eye, and why he had never
married. Then I reflected that perhaps that was the real
reason, for the dear old f eUow seemed exceedingly fond of
children, and perhaps, after all, would have had a -wife
and children, if he could have found a lady who would be
content with a pair of misfit eyes. Very sweet and tender
eyes they were, however. After looking through the
President's conservatory and receiving some pretty flowers,
and eating a fine piece of President's cake, and being in
trusted with some kind messages for father, we felt that
we had not made ¦ any mistake in supporting Buchanan
for President.
Soon after this, we had an opportunity of seeing an
eminent representative of the other side in politics. Per
sonal animosities did not enter so largely into politics in
those days as they do now, although the stakes of the po
litical game were greater, and the issues really more vital.
An abolitionist in the abstract, as conceived by us,
under the teachings surrounding us, was a very frightful
creature. We had beard much of past negro insurrec-

74 THE END OF AN ERA
tions inspired by secret Northern emissaries. It was part
of my early education to learn of a fearful massacre, led
by a desperate negro named Nat Turner, in the county of
Southampton, a few years before I was born. I had been
tausrht to believe that Nat Turner and his deluded follow-
ers had reaUy had no cause of grievance, but that secret
abolition emissaries had gone among them, and with devil
ish malignity had stimulated them to rise in the night, and
put to death a number of innocent people who had been
good to them all their lives, to whom they owed every debt
of gratitude for becoming their masters here and making
Christians of them, instead of leaving them savages in
Africa. All this seemed reasonable, with no argument on
the other side ; and the fact that Nat Turner and aU who
joined him were wiped off the face of the earth seemed a
natural result of Nat's lack of appreciation of the good
state in which he lived. In a general way I had heard,
and heard it with regret, that the real culprits, the aboli
tionists, who had made Nat Turner do these horrid things,
had escaped, and from time to time contemplated the pos
sibility that such fiends still existed, and still prowled at
night about negro quarters, and induced them to run
away. Of course, I had no idea that such a thing as a
negro insurrection could occur in our community with
a body of troops present Hke the Public Guard. But why
talk of such possibilities? Were not the negroes per
fectly content and happy? Had I not often talked to
them on the subject ? Had not every one of them told
me repeatedly that they loved " old Marster " better than
anybody in the world, and would not have freedom if he
offered it to them ? Of course they had, — many and
many a time. And that settled it.
All this being true, I looked upon an abolitionist as, in
the first place, a rank fool, engaged in trying to make

BEHIND THE SCENES 75
people have what they did not want ; and in the next
place, as a disturber of the peace, trying to make people
wretched who were happy, and a man bad at heart, who
was bent on stealing what belonged to his neighbor, or
even inciting the murder of people for slaveholding, as if
slaveholding were a crime, when it was no crime, but a
natural and necessary condition of society.
With views like this concerning abolitionists in general,
my curiosity was greatly excited when I heard that one
WiUiam H. Seward, the acknowledged leader of the Re
publican party in the North, was not only in the city of
Richmond, but was visiting and being entertained by the
Hon. James Lyons, a connection and supporter of my
father. When I was presented to Mr. Seward, I was greatly
surprised to find him a natural-looking person, with most
attractive manners, genial, bright in companionship, laugh
ing in his talk, and actually going so far as to call his
host Lyons, and the other gentlemen by their given names.
Mr. Seward surprised me also by eating and drinking and
smoking, and having a good time generally ; and I watched
him long and in vain to see some distinguishing mark by
which I might thereafter recognize an abolitionist. I dis
covered none, except it be a wonderfully large nose, which
was also a characteristic of John Brown and Abraham
Lincoln, his brother abolitionists.
I listened in vain for some utterance of abolition views
from Mr. Seward, but the party seemed more interested
in a decanter of old Madeira, and a discussion of some
passing social event, than in the all-absorbing question of
slavery, and so Mr. Seward's convictions were reserved
for future expression. I thought he might possibly give
money to Austin the butler, with which to escape from
slavery, but, so far as was ever discovered, nothing like

76 THE END OF AN ERA
that occurred. Mr. Seward came and went. He enjoyed
his visit, and his host enjoyed his company. But neither
made much impression on the political views of the other.
Many other things were happening which drew my
attention to the subject of slavery. During our next
visit to Philadelphia, everybody was talking about a book
and a play caUed " Uncle Tom's Cabin." I had heard
mention of the book at home, as a very powerful hut
very "pernicious" book. More than once the subject
had come up in conversation in my presence ; and I had
heard the work spoken of as a cruel travesty upon South
ern life, disgusting in its sentimental sympathy with the
negro. I was surprised to find that everybody in the
North was reading " Uncle Tom's Cabin," and pronoun
cing it a remarkable production ; and when it was pro
posed, on our next visit to Philadelphia, to take me to
a theatre to see this wonderful play of "Uncle Tom's
Cabin," I was delighted. Never did theatrical perform
ance open to any one more gratifyingly than that wonder
ful drama. In my heart I had a feeling that our North
ern kinsfolk thought their homes were finer than those
in our beloved South. I did not think so. When,
in the opening act, I saw the beautiful Southern home,
with its flowers and bowers and sunshine, I said to myself,
" Now they will see how we live, and will envy us." Yes,
old Uncle Tom and all his family were just such darkeys
as were in Virginia. And as for Eva, there she was,
looking like a hundred little girls I knew, and infi
nitely sweeter in voice and eye than the prim Northern
girls surrounding me. And Eva's father! I knew a
hundred charming young fellows just like him. Her mo
ther ? Well, there was no denying it that now and then
we saw one like her, but she was not a common or attrac
tive type. And Topsy? Yes, there were darkeys just like

BEHIND THE SCENES 77
her, even within my limited knowledge. I laughed and
enjoyed myself along with the others over Topsy's queer
antics. The play moved on. In time the slave auction came,
and the negro-buyers, and the terrible domestic tragedy
to Uncle Tom, and tbe fearful Mississippi River trip, and
the whipping of Eliza's husband, — her flight, the blood
hounds, and all the ghastly story which thrilled a nation.
I was too young to grasp the moral of that story, yet
old enough to feel my heart rebel against things which I
had never before seen laid at the door of the people
I loved and among whom I lived. I believed that many
of them were the mere creations of a malignant enemy,
who had conjured them up out of her own imagination to
prejudice the outside world against my kith and kin, and
I indignantly denied, when questioned concerning the
play, that such scenes were possible. I had never wit
nessed them, or heard of them, in the home of my father.
I resolved to denounce and forget this new phase of sla
very which that night had revealed to me, and the anger
and the pity which I heard expressed by the people about
me confirmed me in the belief that they were sentimental
ists on subjects of which they were ignorant, and that the
denunciation of slavery by Northerners sprang from pre
judices engendered by just such outrageous exaggerations
as those of " Uncle Tom's Cabin."
But the play made a deep and lasting impression upon
me. The sweet -vision of little Eva, the inexpressible
pathos of Uncle Tom, the freaks of Topsy, came back to
me time and time again. Alas ! they returned yoked in
my memory with the wretched figure of Degree, the blood
hounds, and the misery of the other scenes, and the possi
bility that it all might be true revealed itself to me in a
way that I little expected. I knew there was such a thing

78 THE END OF AN ERA
as a negro-buyer. On one or two occasions I had had
such men pointed out to me. I had been taught to regard
them as an inferior class of humanity ; but this knowledge
came principally from the negroes themselves, for the
grown people of my own class seldom referred to them,
and they received no sort of social recognition. I had, in
fact, seen in the newspapers advertisements of the sale of
negroes, side by side with little figures of a man with a
pack on his back, and the offer of a reward for a runaway.
But never until my return from the North was my curios
ity sufficiently aroused to make me locate the place of sell
ing negroes, or determine me to see a sale.
Among my Northern kinsfolk was a young uncle, a
handsome, witty fellow, much younger than my mother.
Notwithstanding her death, he had kept up his affection
and intimacy with father. Influenced partly by his regard
for father and partly by pride as a Pennsylvanian, he had
become an ardent supporter of Mr. Buchanan. He occu
pied a rather prominent position as a Democratic member
of the Pennsylvania legislature. Controlled doubtless by
his warm attachments in the South, he had no squeamish
feelings about slavery. He loved the Union, and sincerely
believed that the only way to preserve it was by recogniz
ing the existence of slavery, and by protecting the slave
holders in all la-wful ways. He believed also that men like
his brother-in-law were convinced that slavery ought to
be abolished ; and that the best way to bring that result
about, without disunion and conflict, was to trust to its
gradual accomplishment by the slave States themselves,
acting under the influence of men such as he knew, instead
of attempting to coerce them by outside influence, which,
as he believed, would arouse their antagonism and defi
ance, so as to defeat or delay the end desired. This was
the honest feeling which made many a Northern man a

BEHIND THE SCENES 79
Democrat in those days. It may have been an error in
judgment, but it was an error, if error at all, on the side
of Union and fraternity, springing from a knowledge of
their Southern brethren, a respect and regard for them,
and a desire for the peaceful solution of a most perplex
ing problem. Let no man at this day denounce that feel
ing as cowardice or lack of principle. The man of whom
I write felt that way and acted that way to the last. But
when the " irrepressible conflict " came, he laid down his
life with a smile for the Union, while many a man who
had precipitated the struggle never went to the front.
And he was but one of thousands.
It was he who had taken me to see " Uncle Tom's
Cabin ; " and it was he who had petted me, and taken me
about the streets of Philadelphia, and spoiled me in
many ways ; and it was he who had taken me to visit
the President ; and now he had come to "visit us, and
spend a week of leisure with his favorite brother-in-law.
My oldest brother had recently returned from Paris.
He had been absent as Secretary of Legation in Berlin
and Paris for nearly six years. He and my uncle were
nearly of the same age, and devoted friends. Father loved
this oldest son as the apple of his eye, and the feeHng of
that son for his father was little short of adoration. The
relations between these three — father, son, and brother-in-
law — were of the most intimate and beautiful kind. To
gether they conferred, as if they were men of the same age,
and, being in full accord on public questions, their -views
were always harmonious, whether looking to some social
pleasure, or some cooperation for the advancement of their
political plans. Father had higher ambitions than he
had yet realized. He was becoming prominent as a possi
ble candidate for the presidency. Both from a natural
inclination and a desire to promote his candidacy, my

80 THE END OF AN ERA
brother had become editor of the " Richmond Enquirer,"
the leading Democratic journal of Virginia ; my uncle was
heart and soul enlisted in securing support for father
among his own constituency. It was believed that his
well-known conservatism on the subject of slavery, and
his intense devotion to the Union, would make his pro
spects very good for the nomination.
I had unrestrained access to the library, where this trio
frequently assembled ; and, without being admitted into
their graver conversation, heard it, and understood its gen
eral tenor. The occupations of my father and brother left
their visitor to find his own amusements until the evening
hour, and he diverted himself at such times by reading or
sight-seeing, or in diversions with the children, of whom
he was very fond.
One Saturday, thus left alone with me, the subject
of " Uncle Tom's Cabin " came up. He asked if I had
ever seen a slave sale. " No," said I, all alert, for since I
saw the play I had resolved that I would some time see
a slave auction ; " but I know where they sell them. I
saw the sign a few days ago. Let us go and see what it
is like." So off we started. Out of the beautiful grounds
and past the handsome residences we went, turning down
Franklin Street towards the great Exchange Hotel, which
was at that time the principal public place of Richmond.
Beyond it we passed a church, still used as such, although
the locality had been deserted by residences, and stables
and little shops surrounded it. As we proceeded, the
street became more and more squalid and repulsive, until
at last we reached a low brick warehouse, with its end
abutting on the street and running far back. Over the
place was the sign, with the name of an owner and
the words " Auction House " conspicuously painted. At
the door hung a red flag, with an advertisement pasted on

BEHIND THE SCENES 81
its side, and up and down the street a mulatto man walked
with another flag, ringing a large bell, and shouting, " Oh,
yea ! Oh, yea ! Oh, yea ! Walk up, gentlemen. The sale
of a fine, likely lot of young niggers is now about to
begin." To these he added, in tones which were really
merry, and with an expansive smile, that they were " all
sorts of niggers, belonging to the estate of the late  ,
sold for no fault, but to settle the estate ; " and that the
lot embraced aU kinds, " old ones and young ones, men
and women, gals and boys."
About the door, and on the inside, a few men were
grouped, some in their shirt-sleeves. For the most part,
they had the appearance of hostlers. The place itself
looked like a livery stable within the building. For a
long distance back from the street, there were no side
lights or skylights. In the rear only was it light, where
the structure projected beyond those on either side of it,
and there the light was ample, and the business in hand
was to be transacted.
We moved cautiously through the dark front of the
building, and came at last to the rear, where a small plat
form occupied the centre of the room, and chairs and
benches were distributed about the walls. Another large
mulatto man appeared to act as usher, standing near a
door, through which from time to time he furnished a
fresh supply of slaves for sale. A large man, with full
beard, not a bad-looking fellow but for the " ratty " ap
pearance of his quick, cold, small black eyes, acted as
auctioneer. A few negroes sat on the bench by the door,
they being the first " lot " to be disposed of. The pur
chasers stood or sat about, smoking or chewing tobacco,
while the auctioneer proceeded to read the decree of a
chancery court in the settlement of a decedent's estate,
under which this sale was made. The lawyers represent-

82 THE END OF AN ERA
ing different interests were there, as were also the cred
itors and distributees having interests in the sale. Besides
these were ordinary buyers in need of servants, and slave-
traders who made a living by buying cheap and selling
for a profit. We took seats, and watched and listened
intently. After reading the formal announcement authorizing
the sale, the auctioneer became eloquent. He proceeded
to explain to his auditors that this was " no ordinary sale
of a damaged, no-' count lot of niggers, whar a man buyin'
a nigger mout or mout not git what he was lookin' fur,
but one of those rar' opperchunities, which cum only once
or twice in a lifetime, when the buyer is sho' that fur
every doUar he pays he 's gittin' a full doUar's wuth of
raal genuine nigger, healthy, well-raised, well-mannered,
respectful, obejunt, and willin'." " Why," said he, " gen
tlemen, you kin look over this whole gang of niggers, from
the oldest to the youngest, an' you won't find the mark of
a whip on one of 'em. Colonel  , for whose estate
they is sold, was known to be one of the kindest marsters,
and at the same time one of the best bringers-up of nig
gers, in all Virginia. These here po' devils is sold for
no fault whatever, but simply and only because, owin' to
the Curnel's sudden death, his estate is left embarrassed,
and it is necessary to seU his niggers to pay his debts, and
for distributin' some reddy monny amongst numrus 'aars.
Of these facts I assure you upon the honor of a gentle
man." Having thus paved the way for good prices, he an
nounced that among the slaves to be offered were good
carriage-drivers, gardeners, dining-room servants, farm
hands, cooks, milkers, seamstresses, washerwomen, and
"the most promisin', growin', sleek, and sassy lot of
young niggers he had ever had the pleasure of offerin'."

BEHIND THE SCENES 83
The sale was begun with some " bucks," as he face
tiously called them. They were young, unmarried fellows
from eighteen to twenty-five. Ordered to mount the auc
tion-block, they stripped to the waist and bounced up,
rather amused than otherwise, grinning at the lively bid
ding they excited. Cautious bidders drew near to them,
examined their eyes, spoke with them to test their hearing
and manners, made them open their mouths and show
their teeth, ran their hands over the muscles of their
backs and arms, caused them to draw up their trousers to
display their legs, and, after fuUy satisfying themselves on
these and other points, bid for them what they saw fit.
Whenever a sale was concluded, the successful bidder
was announced, and the announcement was greeted by the
darkeys themselves with broad grins, and such expres
sions as " Thank Gord," or " Bless de Lord," if it went
as they wished, or in uncomplaining silence if otherwise.
It was surprising to see how thoroughly they all seemed
to be informed concerning the men who were bidding for
them. The scenes accompanying the sales of young women
were very similar to those with the young men, except
that what was said to them and about them was astonish
ingly plain and shocking. One was recommended as a
" rattlin' good breeder," because she had already given
birth to two children at seventeen years of age. An
other, a mulatto of very comely form, showed deep embar
rassment when questioned about her condition.
They brought good prices. " Niggers is high " was the
general comment. Who bought them, where they went,
whether they were separated from father, mother, brother,
or sister, God knows. Let us hope the result was as
humane as possible.
" I am now goin' to offer you a very likely young chile-

84 THE END OF AN ERA
barin' woman," said the auctioneer. " She is puffectly
helthy, and without a blemish. Among the family, she
is a universal favorite. I offer her with the privilidge
of takin' her husban' and two chillen with her at a very
rejuced price, because it is the wish of all concerned to
keep 'em together, if possible. Get up here, Martha
Ann." A large-framed, warm, comfortable-looking, mo
therly soul, with a fine, honest face, mounted the block.
" Now, gentlemen," said he, continuing, " ef you 'U cast
yo' eyes into that corner, you wiU see Israel, Martha
Ann's husband, and Cephas and Melindy, her two chil
dren. Israel is not what you may call a raal able-bodied
man. He broke his leg some years ago handlin' one of
the Curnel's colts, and he ain't able to do heavy work ;
but I am asshoed by everybody on the place that Israel is
a most valuable servant about a house for all kind of
light work, and he can be had mighty cheap."
"Yes, sir," spoke up Israel eagerly, "I kin do as much
ez ennybody ; and, marsters, ef you 'U only buy me and
de chillun with Martha Ann, Gord knows I 'U wuk my
self to deth fur you."
The poor little darkeys, Cephas and Melinda, sat there
frightened and silent, their white eyes dancing like mon
key-eyes, and gleaming in the shadows. As her husband's
voice broke on her ear, Martha Ann, who had been look
ing sadly out of the window in a pose of quiet dignity,
turned her face with an expression of exquisite love and
gratitude towards Israel. She gazed for a moment at her
husband and at her children, and then looked away once
more, her eyes brimming with tears.
" How much am I offered for Martha Ann with the privi
lidge ? " shouted the auctioneer. The bidding began. It
was very sluggish. The hammer fell at last. The price
was low. Perhaps, even in that crowd, nobody wanted

BEHIND THE SCENES 85
them aU, and few were wiUing to do the heartless act
of taking her alone. So she sold low. When the name
of her purchaser was announced, I knew him. He was an
odd, wizen, cheerless old fellow, who was a member of the
Virginia legislatui-e from one of the far-away south-
side counties adjoining North Carolina. Heaven be
praised, he was not a supporter of father, but called
himself an Old-line Whig, and ranked with the opposi
tion. He seemed to have no associates among the mem
bers, and nobody knew where he lived in the city. He
was notoriously penurious, and drew his pay as regularly
as the week rolled around.
" Mr.  buys Martha Ann," said the auctioneer.
" I congratulate you, Mr.  . You 've bought the
cheapes' nigger sold here to-day. WiU you take Israel
and the young uns with her ? "
Deep silence fell upon the gathering. Even imperturb
able Martha Ann showed her anxiety by the heaving of
her bosom. Israel strained forward, where he sat, to
hear the first word of hope or of despair. The old man
who had bid for her shuffled forward, fumbling in his
pockets for his money, delaying his reply so long that the
question was repeated. " No — o," drawled he at last ;
" no — o, I 'm sorry for 'em, but I railly can't. You see, I
live a long way from here, and I ride down to the legisla-
tur', and, when I get here, I sell my horse and live cheap,
and aims to save up enough from my salary to buy an
other horse and a ' chile-barin' woman' when the ses
sion 's done ; and then I takes her home, ridin' behind
me on the horse. Thar ain't no way I could provide for
gittin' the man and the young uns home, even if they was
given to me. I think I 'm doin' pretty well to save enough
in a session to buy one nigger, much less a whole fam-
bly." And the old beast looked up over his spectacles as

86 THE END OF AN ERA
he counted his money, and actuaUy chuckled, as if he ex
pected a round of applause for his clever business ability.
A deep groan, unaccompanied by any word of com
plaint, came from the dark corner where Israel sat.
Martha Ann stepped down from the platform, walked to
where he was, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and
there, hugging her children and rocking herself back and
forth, she sobbed as if her heart was breaking.
My companion and I looked at each other in disgust,
but neither spoke a word. I was ready to burst into
tears. The old creature who had bought the woman
lugged out his hoarded money in sundry packages of coin
and paper, and, as he counted it, said, " Martha Ann,
cheer up ; you 'U find me a good marster, and I 'U get you
a new husband." He might well have added, " and the
more children you have, the better I '11 like you."
Thank God, the scene did not end there. The silence
was oppressive. The veriest savage on earth could not
have witnessed it without being moved. "Let us go
away," I whispered. At last the suspense was broken.
A handsome, manly fellow, one of the lawyers in the
case, exclaimed, " By  ! I can't stand this. I knew
Colonel  well. I know how he felt towards Israel
and Martha Ann and their children. This is enough to
make him turn in his grave. I am unable to make this
purchase ; but sooner than see them separated, I '11 bank
rupt myself. Mr.  , I will take Martha Ann off your
hands, so as to buy her husband and children, and keep
them together."
" Well, now, you see," drawled the old fellow, pausing
in his work, with trembling hand, " if you feel that way,
the time to speak was when the gal was up for sale." His
eye glittered with the thought of turning the situation to
advantage. " You see she 's mine now, and I consider

BEHIND THE SCENES 87
her a very desirable and very cheap purchase. Moreover,
if you want her, I think you ought to be willin' to pay me
something for the time and trouble I 've wasted here
a-tryin' to git her."
The proposition was sickening. But the old creature
was so small himself that his demand of profit was like
wise small, and the matter was soon arranged. Whether
he remained and bought another " chUe-barin' " woman
is unknown ; for, sick at heart at the sights we had
witnessed, we withdrew, and walked slowly back in the
glorious sunlight, past the neighboring church, and up
to the happy abodes of Virginia's best civilization, little
inclined to talk of the nightmare we had been through.
From that hour, the views of both of us concerning sla
very were materially modified. Throughout the day, the
horrors we had witnessed came back and back again to me ;
and, recuperative as I was, I was very, very unhappy.
That night, the experiences of the morning were the
subject of a long and anxious and earnest conversation
between father, my brother, and my uncle. At its close,
I felt much relieved and proud of them, and better satis
fied, because they were aU agreed that a system in which
things like that were possible was monstrous ; and that
the question was, not whether it should be abolished, and
abolished quickly, but as to the manner of its abolition.
Within seven years from that time, my brother and my
uncle were both dead, — killed in battle on opposite sides,
in a struggle resulting from slavery. Father's fortune
and happiness were engulfed in the horrible fraternal strife
which grew out of this cancer on the body politic, — a can
cer which all three of those men were honestly anxious
to destroy.
Virginians ! you whp in our day were led by Lee and
Jackson ! have you read this chapter ? Is it true or un-

88 THE END OF AN ERA
true ? Ask yourselves calmly. The time has now come
when you ought, in justice to yourselves, to try to satisfy
yourselves wherein your old system was wrong and unjus
tifiable, as weU as wherein it was right. One who loves
you wrote this story ; one who was your comrade in the
fight we lost ; one who has no word of blame for you, but,
on the contrary, believes that we had every provocation to
fight ; one who, as long as he lives, will glory in the way
we fought, and is proud of his own scars, and teaches bis
children to believe that the record of Confederate valor
is a priceless heritage.
It is not written when the truth can do you harm. It
is not written by an alien in feeling, or an enthusiast for
an abstract idea. It is written to make you think, — to
make you ask yourselves whether you can, before God,
claim that all was as it should be when we had slavery.
It is written to reconcile you to your loss by showing you
from what your children were delivered.
It is penned in the firm belief that some day, while
brooding upon the happiness, the wealth, the culture, the
refinement then possessed by the South, and to so large
an extent lost to her now, you may realize that all these,
delightful as they were, did not justify the curse and mis
ery of human slavery. I seek to make you realize, if
not admit, that its abolition was a greater blessing to us
even than to the slaves, and that emancipation was worth
all we surrendered, and aU the precious lives that were
destroyed ; to bring you to confess, the brave and gen
erous men I know you to be, that the time has come at
last when, through our tears, and without disloyalty to
the dead, in the possession of freedom and union and lib
erty, true Confederates, viewing it all in the clearer light
and calmer atmosphere of to-day, ought to thank God
that slavery died at Appomattox.

CHAPTER VII
MT BROTHER
In the last chapter I spoke of the return of my brother
Jennings from France. After graduating at Bloomington,
Ind., and studying law at WiUiam and Mary CoUege,
and before he attained his majority, he had received from
President Pierce an appointment in the diplomatic service,
and was sent to Berlin as attache of the American Lega
tion. He spent three years in Berlin and Heidelberg,
and was thence transferred to Paris as Secretary of Lega
tion, where he further improved himself by study, and by
contact with the most polished society in Europe. When
he returned to Virginia in 1857, at the age of twenty-five,
he was weU equipped for a brilliant career. His home
coming after a long absence was the occasion of great
rejoicing in our family. It was as if a new light had sprung
up in the household. My brother was so modest and unaf
fected that his acute intellect and varied information were
not always revealed to strangers. His disposition was so
amiable that in all his life he never had a boyish quarrel
with any one. Of singularly mature and sedate nature,
he had been his father's loved and trusted companion
before his departure for foreign parts ; and now that
he had returned and was about, to assume life's serious
responsibilities, they became inseparable companions. He
at first entered upon the practice of law; but although
he secured reasonable employment, and was thoroughly
trained in common, civil, and international law, he found
the practice irksome, and lacking in excitement. His

90 THE END OF AN ERA
ambition was for political distinction, and very soon he
quit the law, and became editor of the " Richmond En
quirer," the Democratic organ of Virginia. The touch
of a master hand was quickly revealed in that journal. His
familiarity with foreign politics, and the new lights shed
upon them by his knowledge and criticisms, attracted
widespread interest on the part of his fellow-journalists,
as weU as the public. In domestic politics, his ardent
nature was soon made manifest upon every page. Since
the death of Father Ritchie, its once famous editor, the
" Enquirer " had lost ground, and descended to the level
of a staid and humdrum commonplace newspaper.
Within a short time the paper again stood foremost
among Southern journals, and my brother's name became
as well known as that of his father. His social successes
were not less marked than his professional triumphs.
Women and children idolized him. And well they might,
for he preferred their society to that of men. Passion
ately fond of music and of dancing, it was his delight to
steal away from the sombre circle of his o-wn sex, or
leave the after-dinner cigar and wine, to join the ladies in
the drawing-room. There he would linger with unsatis
fied delight, listening to the music, or dancing until all
others were exhausted. An accomplished linguist, with
all sorts of interesting knowledge of the world, delight
ful in conversation, he possessed an indescribable charm
for women. Yet, although he was brought into daily
contact with exquisite creatures, whom it was almost im
possible not to love, his fondness for the other sex seemed
altogether platonic.
If a child saw him once, it never forgot him. Children
flocked about him as if he had been the Pied Piper of
Hamelin. He rejoiced in this sovereignty, and ever went
prepared with trifles to surprise and delight them.

MY BROTHER 91
One of the most remarkable things about him was his
unaffected piety. He never made a profession of religion,
yet he was as punctilious in church attendance as an
elder ; and in the silence of his chamber, where no one
saw him, he prayed every night before retiring. Unlike
the many blase youths who are spoiled by residence in
France, a long life in Paris had produced no -visible effect
upon his purity of life or childlike faith. Whoever was
thrown with him, young or old, superior or inferior, first
wondered at his sweet simplicity, and then loved him for
his unaffected naturalness, sincerity, and gentleness. This
charming young brother, returning after so long an ab
sence as if from the dead, was a revelation and a source
of wonderment from the time I awoke in the morning
until I closed my eyes at night. This was literally true,
for until his coming, I had never seen anybody open the
day, winter and summer, with a plunge into an ice-cold
bath ; likewise, until his arrival with his Parisian love of
the theatre, I had never closed the day at the playhouse
with a companion always glad to go, be it ever so bad a
show. My brother Richard, near my own age, had been sent
off to boarding-school, leaving me sole occupant of our
sleeping apartment. The chambers of the Government
House were large and lonesome, and it was with unspeak
able pleasure that I obtained consent of the newcomer
that my little bed should be placed in his chamber. From
this association sprung pleasures innumerable. The mar
velous things from Paris and Berlin were sources of
unending interest and information. There were the great
German Schlagers, Or dueling-swords, used by the Heidel
berg students in the contests among their fighting corps,
and in time I was fully informed about the habits of the
German universities. How it tickled me to hear the

92 THE END OF AN ERA
story of young Sidney Legare, of South Carolina, who
joined the Saxon Corps, and, armed with one of these
selfsame Schlagers, fought and won his battle with a
German baron ! The inscriptions on the hilt bore tbe
names of the young Americans who maintained the pluck
of the United States among the Continental youth.
There also were fencing-foils and masks, with which he
had become so expert in beautiful Paris that he was
known in every salle d' armes. With these we had many
a friendly bout, until I considered myself quite a rattling
blade with the foils. Then at times our conversation was
in French ; especially when I required cash, or proposed
some amusement, I plunged away at him with all the
French I could command, until I really improved in
speaking. From him also I learned much of Parisian
court life in the time of Louis Napoleon, and many a day
laughed at the stories of the intimacy between Napoleon
III. and the Hon. John Y. Mason, of Virginia, the Amer
ican Minister to France, in whose house my brother had
been regarded almost as one of the family.
My bright and joyous room-mate, bustling about
o' mornings, making his toilet after his exhilarating bath,
often sang snatches of Parisian operas, or repeated long
passages from Shakespeare, Byron, and Walter Scott,
for he was f uU of romance. Thus I became familiar with
operatic airs, and could repeat many of the striking poet
ical quotations. And there were the Parisian clothes
and toilet articles and preparations, — wonderful French
waistcoats and cravats and neckerchiefs, and boots and
shoes, and eau de quinine for those curly locks, and
pomade for that downy mustache ; every one of them
strange and new and very captivating to me. I would
rub my own frowsy mop of hair, hitherto only half
brushed, with that eau de quinine, until my scalp was as

MY BROTHER 93
red as a lobster, and sighed that I had no mustache on
which to test the perfumed stick pomatum. What is there
on this earth more delightful to the small boy than rum
maging among the toilet outfit and dress of a grown-up
brother? And he told me wonderful stories of knights
and ladies and tournaments, and put me to reading Sir
Walter Scott; and gave me a famous copy of "Charles
O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon," and laughed with me over
" Handy Andy ; " and in the evenings, when lessons were
difficult, lifted me along with Csesar and Virgil or mathe-
matips, that we might go together later to the show. Then
there were the German wines he had brought home, four
hundred varieties ; for, while he was abstemious, and cared
little for spirituous or malt liquors, he loved to sip the
Rhine wines with his cigar ; and I, who was by no means
averse to them, was soon an expert in Niersteiners, and
Laubenheimers, and Moselle Auslice, and Liebfraumilch,
and Johannisbergers, and all the rest ; but above all, I
loved the sparkling MoseUes, which have aU my life
reminded me of that beloved companion of those happy
days. Oh, never had boy a friend and mentor like him,
— so lovable, so affectionate, so considerate, so pure, so
stimulating to honest work, so willing, so resourceful in
innocent amusement.
One night we attended the play of " East Lynne " at
the old Richmond Theatre. The performance was poor
enough, to be sure, to a young man fresh from Paris, but
I thought it was great. On our way home, he remarked
that the only performer of merit in the caste was the
young feUow, John Wilkes Booth. In him, he said, there
was the making of a good actor. The criticism made an
impression upon me, who remembered the man and the
name. Little did I imagine then that in seven years my
beloved companion would be one of the victims of our

94 THE END OF AN ERA
great national tragedy, or that, at its close, the callow
stripling who played before us that night would shock
the civilized world with the awful assassination of the
President. And now we come to the antithesis of all these
happy incidents. I have dwelt upon him at length with
a purpose, — he illustrated a peculiar phase of that civil
ization. Gentle as was that brother, — tender and lov
ing as he was to every one, devoted as a slave to his
father, deferential to his mother as if she had been a
queen, courteous and considerate towards the humblest
servant who ministered to his wants, honored and be
loved by everybody with whom he was thrown, — he was
nevertheless as fearless and uncompromising in certain
things as the fiercest knight who ever entered the lists.
He was, more emphatically than any man I ever knew,
the type of the class to which he belonged. He had been
educated in a school, at home and abroad, which not only
recognized the code dueUo, but accepted it as the most
rational mode of settling private differences.
Of private differences personal to himself, my brother
had none. But father 's reputation was the object of his
care above aU others. On one occasion, when asked if
his heart had not yet been touched by woman, he rephed,
"No. My love for father — my desire for his advance
ment — is the absorbing passion of my life. It leaves
no place for other deep affection. Female society is
indeed most attractive, but beside the other feeHng, it
is a mere passing thought. I have no time for other
serious love." What an odd speech for the latter half of
the nineteenth century ! Does it not sound mediaeval ?
In the course of public discussion of public men, there
were criticisms of his father, — some facetious, some
severe. Concerning such, he had determined upon a hne

MY BROTHER 96
of action. Quick and hot and insulting came the reply
to every comment of this kind. Then followed, in due
course, the inquiry as to authorship, the avowal, the de
mand of a retraction, the refusal, the challenge, the duel.
To the young editor, there was nothing alarming in
aU this, there was nothing improper, there was nothing
unexpected. He had resolved that whoever criticised
his father should do so at his peril, should be insulted,
should be fought if it was so desired, and that to this
line of conduct he would adhere until such criticism
stopped, or he himself stopped a bullet.
How absurd, how utterly Quixotic, such a course seems
to us to-day ! Yet, in that time, not only was it deemed
no absurdity, but a great number of the community, in
fact a majority, regarded it as natural and manly, evincing
chivalry of the very highest order.
Now, whatever other commodities may have been scarce
in Virginia markets of that time, fighting was as easily
obtainable as blackberries in June. Not many young
Virginians were his peers in intellect and accomplish
ments, but there were many who were as brave and no
more intimidated by the danger of a duel. Many such
were opposed to him in politics, and were un-willing to
forego, from any fear of fighting, the decided expression
of their opinions on politics in general, or of his father
in particular.
The resiUt was that he had all the dueling the most
enthusiastic advocate of the sport could desire, for the
next two years. A cabal of father's political antagonists
held a conclave, if reports were true, and determined that
the son was an obstacle in their way, to be disposed of,
in furtherance of their arrangements to defeat the father.
Under these refined, humane, and highly civilized condi
tions, my brother Jennings actuaUy fought eight duels in

96 THE END OF AN ERA
less than two years. It aU seems ludicrous to us, in our
prosaic, commonplace, and common-sense way of looking
at things nowadays ; but it was no joke to me, when
every two or three months I missed my beloved compan
ion from his room and bed for several days, only to learn
that he was engaged in fighting another duel. Pitiful
and anxious indeed were the days and nights passed on
such occasions, waiting to know the result. To me it was
an enigma past my comprehension. What it was all
about, I could not understand. I would read, and read
again, the publications leading to these fearful duels;
and for the life of me I could not comprehend what there
was in them to drive men to seek each other's lives. I
could not conceive the mental or moral processes by
which my sweet brother, who never quarreled with any
body, could bring himself, without anger, to shoot at
another man with deadly intent. And when he returned,
laughing at the eagerness of my embraces and welcome,
and apparently bearing no ill-will towards anybody or
anything on earth, and when I saw him say his prayers at
night, and go to church, and mingle in gay society, just
as he had done before, the mystery only deepened.
My brother most certainly seemed to bear a charmed
life, for no one ever hit him in these many encounters.
On the other hand, it was no mystery to me that he hit
nobody himself, for I knew that a more execrable shot
never went afield. Sometimes, after this abominable duel
ing began, we practiced with dueling-pistols. His foreign
education had trained him only in the use of the broad
sword and the foils, and these were not American weapons.
On several occasions, I saw enough of his bad marksman
ship to know that if he hit anybody it would be by acci
dent ; for he was both inexpert and inapt with firearms,
and I easily outstripped him in marksmanship.

MY BROTHER 97
The thing went on ; duel after duel occurred. In one
of them, the gallant fellow, after his opponent fired, dis
charged his pistol in the air, because his adversary was
near-sighted and at his mercy. In another, after ineffec
tual exchange of shots and the customary palaver, matters
had been adjusted. At last, on another occasion, the antag
onists had actually started to leave the field, when his
adversary demanded another shot. His demand was
acceded to, and at the next fire my brother succeeded in
hitting him, and seriously wounded him. Little credit
he deserved for marksmanship ; It was another instance
like that of the shooter portrayed in " Punch," in which
a sportsman, hitting a bird after many failures, appealed
to the Scotch game-keeper : " Ah, Sandy, I hit that one."
" Yes, sir," was the reply, " they will fly into it some
times." But whether designed or accidental, this last
performance, after making a great hubbub for a few
days, resulted in giving him a breathing-spell, and he had
no more duels prior to the outbreak of the war.

CHAPTER VIII
UNVEILING OF WASHINGTON'S STATUE, AND REMOVAL OP
MONROE'S REMAINS, 1859
In aU her history, from the formation of the federal
government untU the hour of secession, no year stands
out more prominently than the year 1858 as evidencing
the national patriotism of Virginia. To one participating
in the scenes enacted in Richmond, and listening to the
speeches of her leaders, the statement that within three
years the old commonwealth would renounce aUegiance to
the federal Union would have seemed preposterous.
The State, at great expense, had reared a noble monu
ment to the memory of George Washington. It consists
of a central shaft surmounted by an equestrian statue of
Washington, with six smaller plinths, on which are placed
heroic figures of Virginians, representing different periods
of her greatness.
Not one of these men was famous for deeds done on
behalf of Virginia alone. The fame of each and every
one of them rests upon public services, or sacrifices for the
nation. Among such, Virginia finds her greatest names.
There was Washington, her son, father of his country ;
there, too, Andrew Lewis, who penetrated the unexplored
wilderness of the Northwest and made it hers. Yet she
joyously ceded all claims upon it to the nation, as her
contribution to perpetual union and fraternity, imposing
only the conditions that slavery should never exist there.

UNVEILING OF WASHINGTON'S STATUE 99
and that alternate sections of land should be dedicated
to public education. There was also Patrick Henry, who
roused thirteen colonies to revolution with his immortal
eloquence ; and George Mason, who drafted a biU of
rights epitomizing the aspirations and safeguards of
republican institutions in language which, from then until
now, has furnished the substance of the written charts of
government of all the newly admitted States ; and Thomas
Jefferson, sage, philosopher, and seer, author of the
Declaration of Independence, the Statutes of Religious
Liberty, and founder of Virginia's university ; and Gen
eral Thomas Nelson, who devoted his fortune to the Conti
nental struggle, and trained an American cannon upon
his own bouse when it was the headquarters of Corn-
waUis at Yorktown ; and John Marshall, who began his
public career as captain in a Virginia regiment, served at
VaUey Forge and Monmouth, and afterwards, as Chief
Justice of the United States, was the peerless expounder
of that Constitution which he had fought to establish.
Oh, what a galaxy of men, encompassing the very
heavens of our national life ! What other commonwealth
could produce its Hke then ? What other can produce it
now? Is it surprising that the Virginians, whose State was
mother of the nation's father, whose great Chief Justice,
the youngest of the immortal group, was the lodestar of
constitutional construction, loved that Union and rejoiced
in it, and honored it from their hearts' inmost depths ?
In other States, jealousies and animosities against the
Union may have existed, but, up to that time at least,
such sentiments found little lodgment in the breasts of
the Virginians.
With beating hearts and honest pride, they assembled
from every section, February 22, 1858, to unveU the

100 THE END OF AN ERA
equestrian statue of Washington. The figures of Henry
and Jefferson had preceded that of Washington, and were
on their appropriate plinths. Poor Crawford, the sculptor
in charge of the work, had died from over-exertion in
Rome after the Washington figure was cast and shipped
to America. The presence of his widow lent an additional
and pathetic interest to the scene about to be enacted.
The vessel bearing the statue arrived at Richmond
from Italy some weeks before the unveiling. The male
population of the city, men and boys, dragged the statue
through the streets from the wharves to the Capitol
grounds, a distance of over a mile. Enthusiasm was
unbounded on every hand.
Of all these new sights I there beheld, that which capti
vated me most was the corps of cadets of the Virginia
Military Institute. The State owned an arsenal at Lex
ington, in the valley between the Blue Ridge and the
Alleghanies. Prior to 1839, she kept a guard at this
arsenal. In that year, she established there a military
school, in charge of Captain Francis H. Smith, a dis
tinguished graduate of West Point. It was organized
strictly on the lines of the United States MiUtary Acad
emy, as to drill, discipline, tuition, and all else. At first
the number of cadets was limited to a few, who received
board and tuition free, and in return guarded the pro
perty of the State, and agreed to teach school for a certain
period after graduation. By degrees, a large number of
cadets were admitted upon condition that they pay for
board and tuition. The school grew ; extensive buildings
were erected ; and in 1858 the Virginia MiHtary Insti
tute had over three hundred cadets, and was the best
estabhshment of the kind in the United States, except
the United States MUitary Academy. It resembled the
latter in everything but in the liberality of appropriations.

UNVEILING OF WASHINGTON'S STATUE 101
and the assurance of an appointment to the army. Its
original superintendent remained in charge, and he con
tinued to hold the office for fifty years. To this uniformity
of administration much of the high reputation of the
school was no doubt attributable.
The appearance of the corps on the above occasion, the
first on which I ever saw it, was sufficient to excite the
wildest enthusiasm of a small boy. Never before had I
seen such trim, alert figures ; such clean, saucy-looking
uniforms ; such machine-like precision and quickness of
driU ; such silence and obedience. From the first day my
eye rested on the cadet corps, the height of boyish ambi
tion was to be a cadet. Four companies of infantry and a
section of artillery drawn by " rats " constituted the cadet
outfit. The " rats " referred to were not genuine rats like those
attached to Cinderella's coach, but "plebes," or new
cadets, who, until they remain a year and hear " Auld
Lang Syne " played at the graduation exercises, are called
" rats." The only thing about this fine body that struck
me as in any way lacking in soldierly appearance was the
commandant of the infantry battalion. He was not my
ideal of a soldier, either in military bearing, or in the
manner in which he gave his commands. His uniform
was not new ; his old blue forage-cap sat on the back of
his head ; and he stood like a horse " sprung " in the
knees. His commands were given in a piping, whining
tone, and he appeared to be deeply intent upon his busi
ness, without paying much regard to the onlookers. On
the other hand, the officer commanding the section of ar
tillery was the model of a martinet. He was petite, quick
as a lizard, straight as a ramrod, and his commands were
delivered like the crack of a whiplash. I thought him
a perfect commanding officer.

102 THE END OF AN ERA
The cadets were quartered in the Richmond Lyceum.
When the ceremonies were over, the smaU boys coUectfed
about the corps like flies about molasses, and, when the
cadets marched off to their quarters, foUowed them, I
among the foremost. I knew several of the cadets. When
the command was halted near its quarters, we boys
crowded around it in such a way that we inconvenienced
the officer in charge. He passed along the Hne, tapping
us back with the flat side of his sword, exclaiming in a
deprecatory voice, " Get away, little boys ! Get away —
get A-W-A-Y ! " It was ludicrous, and I could detect
smiles, even on the faces of the thoroughly disciplined
cadets ; but something in the manner of the officer made
the boys get away, and get away in a hurry.
When the parade was dismissed, on inquiring about
the officers, I learned that the odd-looking commandant
was famUiarly called " Old Jack ; " that his real name was
Major Jackson ; and that the cadets, while disposed to
make light of him for his eccentricities, dared not trifle
with him. As to the other officer. Major Gilham, all
agreed that he was the best drill-officer and tactician they
had ; that he was far superior to Major Jackson ; and they
spoke with profound respect of the infantry tactics of
which he was the author.
At the grand reception given that night by my father,
I again saw both these officers, and their bearing con
firmed me in the judgment that there was no question
which was the superior soldier. Major Jackson was plainly
dressed, wore coarse shoes, had a weary look in his blue
eyes, took very little part in conversation, seemed bored
by the entertainment, neither ate nor drank, and, after
paying his respects to the governor, and to General Win
field Scott, commander-in-chief of the armies of the
United States, quietly disappeared. Colonel Gilham, on

UNVEILING OF WASHINGTON'S STATUE 103
the other hand, was urbane, ubiquitous, and remained
until the close of the entertainment.
In after years, I had occasion to revise my opinion of
the relative ability of these two men, for Major Jackson
was none other than the immortal Stonewall ; and Major
Gilham, while brave enough, never rose beyond the rank
of colonel, and retired from active service in 1862 to
resume his professorship at the Institute.
And " Old Fuss and Feathers ! " — bless his colossal
old soul ! was ever a name more appropriately bestowed ?
— I saw him also that day, for the first time. What a
monster in size he was ! Never was uniform more mag
nificent ; never were feathers in cocked hat more profuse ;
never was sash so broad and gorgeous. He was old and
gouty, keen for food, quick for drink, and thunderous of
voice, large as a straw-stack, and red as a boiled lobster.
His talk was like the roaring of a lion, his walk like the
tread of the elephant. No turkey-gobbler ever strutted or
gobbled with more self-importance than did the hero of
Lundy's Lane. The women flattered him, and he liked it.
The men toasted him, and he never refused to join or to
respond. As long as he remained, he was the cynosure
of all present. When he withdrew, a characteristic inci
dent occurred. In the great hallway, he caUed for his
wraps and his galoshes. The servants were quick to hurry
forward with them. Several cadets had been invited to
the entertainment, and were standing about awestruck in
the presence of the commander-in-chief.
As the servants offered him his cloaks and overshoes,
he waved them away imperiously, and in his commanding
voice thundered out, " No, no ! Let the cadets attend
upon me. Here, you cadets! Help me with my over
shoes and wraps. It is not every day that I can get
such orderlies, and it is not every day that you can wait

lOi THE END OF AN ERA
upon the general of the armies." The boys leaped for
ward to his assistance, delighted at such distinguished con
descension, and soon had him fuUy caparisoned. With his
arms about their shoulders, he laboriously descended the
sleety marble steps, shouted back some cheery words to
those watching on the portico, entered the fine carriage
which awaited him, slammed the door, and drove away,
snorting and puffing, in aU his majesty.
What a wonderful mixture of gasconade, ostentation,
fuss, feathers, bluster, and genuine soldierly talent and
courage was this same Winfield Scott of blessed memory !
A great smoking mass of flesh and blood ! So devoted to
epicurean enjoyment that, even when he was candidate
for President, he lugged into bis jiublic papers aUusion to
his " hasty plate of soup." But for aU that, a splendid
soldier in the service of his.country for over fifty years.
What a contrast he presented to his favorite companion,
— gentle, quiet Colonel Lee !
It was days after this glorious celebration before its
excitements subsided sufficiently to enable me to concen
trate my reluctant mind upon Latin, French, and mathe
matics. Delightful, inspiring to patriotism, exhilarating, as were
the ceremonies at the unveiling of the Washington statue,
the scenes enacted in Richmond in July of that same year
outstripped them far in gorgeousness, and in the display
of fraternal feelings between the North and South.
In the month of April, the Virginia legislature made
provision for the removal of the remains of Ex-President
James Monroe from the city of New York to the capital
of Virginia.
Mr. Monroe had been buried in New York with appro
priate honors, interred in a private cemetery vault, pur-

REMOVAL OF MONROE'S REMAINS, 1859 105
chased by his daughters, and there his ashes " awaited
the call of his native State " for twenty-seven years. At
the time the Virginia legislature made that call, his only
surviving descendants were three children of Mrs. Gou-
verneur. The eldest, bearing his name, deeply afflicted
by Providence, and the second, a daughter, spoke through
their father, Samuel L. Gouverneur of Frederick County,
Maryland ; the third, Samuel L. Gouverneur, Jr., spoke
for hiraself. All assented to the removal.
The public announcement of the intention of his native
State to reclaim his ashes was the signal for a great out
burst of patriotic fervor in Virginia and in New York.
Virginians residing in New York held meetings look
ing to the disinterment there with appropriate ceremonies ;
the city authorities at once passed the necessary resolu
tions. Committees of conference were sent from Virginia.
A steamship was chartered to convey the remains, and the
New York military vied with one another for the honor of
acting as mUitary escort. So great was the enthusiasm
that it culminated in a tender, by the Seventh Regiment
of New York, of their escort of the remains at their own
expense, as a guard of honor from New York to Rich
mond. This being accepted, that splendid body of citizen
soldiery chartered the Ericcson steamer, and made ready
for their patriotic pilgrimage.
The Richmond military were all busy with preparations
to receive their guests. The public grounds, the Capitol,
aU public places, were filled with workmen erecting arches,
painting patriotic emblems, hanging thousands of colored
lanterns, and draping the city in mourning. The Fourth
of July fell that year upon Sunday. Consequently, the
arrival of the remains and the military escort was timed
for Monday, July 5. At daybreak and at sunrise the
Fayette ArtiUery, a local volunteer organization, fired the

106 THE END OF AN ERA
national salute in the Capitol Square. At six o'clock,
the flags upon the public buildings, hotels, and shipping
were placed at half mast. The citizens were stiU engaged
draping their residences and places of business in the
habiliments of mourning. The Henrico Light Dragoons,
the Public Guard, the First Virginia Regiment, the
Young Guard Battalion, and the Rocky Ridge Rifles
from the neighboring town of Manchester formed line
at seven o'clock and marched to Rocketts, the landing-
place of the steamer Jamestown, bearing the remains of
President Monroe. Upon the neighboring hillsides were
gathered thousands of people, men and women, white and
black, of every condition in life. Carriages, omnibuses,
and baggage-wagons were drawn up in long lines near the
wharf ; marshals and field-officers rode hither and thither
giving orders, and scattering the crowds to right and left
before them. Flaunting flags, and signals at half mast,
were visible everywhere ; civic organizations with bands
and banners foUowed the military. The whole community
was in a ferment of expectation.
" The day opened clear and beautiful, the intense heat
reHeved by a pleasant southerly breeze. The local troops
stacked arms, and waited the arrival of the steamers.
" The Jamestown came in sight at ten minutes past eight
o'clock, and slowly approached the wharf, with flags and
signals at half haUiards. As the ship came alongside her
wharf, the committee and guests from New York stood
on the upper deck, and regarded with much interest the
exciting scene on shore.
"The remains of President Monroe having been re
moved from the forward saloon to the upper deck and
placed under an awning, the governor and mayor pro
ceeded on board the Jamestown and received the guests,
and an interchange of friendly greetings took place. The

REMOVAL OF MONROE'S REMAINS, 1859 107
remains were attended by a detachment of the New York
National Guard, but after their arrival, they were relieved
by a platoon of the Richmond Grays, detailed for the
purpose. " The steamer Glen Cove, with the New York Seventh
Regiment on board, came in sight at ten minutes past ten,
and, despite the solemnity of the occasion, the younger
portion of the assembled throng gave vent to their feel
ings in a cheer. As the steamer approached the wharf,
her appearance was really imposing. The soldiers, with
their glittering arms, were paraded ready for debarkation,
while the splendid band of the Seventh, stationed on the
forward deck, played a solemn dirge.
" The Virginia troops were drawn up in line, facing the
river, ready to receive the visitors, and without unneces
sary delay the Seventh left the boat, and passed on to the
right of the line, the Virginia military presenting arms as
they marched by.
" The hearse, drawn by six white horses, attended by
six negro grooms dressed in white, now proceeded to the
steamer, and, under the direction of the pall-bearers, re
ceived the remains. The troops presented arms, flags
were lowered, drums rolled, and trumpets sounded, after
which the Armory Band played a dirge, while the hearse
proceeded to its place in the line. Minute-guns were fired
and beUs toUed, continuing during the progress of the pro
cession to the cemetery.
" The procession moved at half past eleven o'clock.
" The route lay directly up Main Street to Second,
down Second to Cary, and thence out to Hollywood. AU
along the route of the procession, a distance of more than
two miles, the sidewalks were lined with spectators ; every
balcony, porch, and window overlooking the street, every
avaUable spot on the Hne, was crowded with ladies, chil-

108 THE END OF AN ERA
dren, and men. The minute-guns continued firing ; the
bells in the vicinity of the route toUed, answered by peals
from others in the distance ; business was universally sus
pended ; and the attention of the entire community was
concentrated on the imposing pageant in honor of the
memory of the illustrious man whose bones were now on
the way to their earthly resting-place.
" The troops marched with reversed arms, and the
bands played music appropriate to the occasion.
" The grave of Monroe is located in the southwest cor
ner of Hollywood, on an eminence commanding a magni
ficent view of the city, the river, and the environs.
" After the line was formed around the grave, the coffln
was removed from the hearse. When the remains were
lowered into the grave, the troops presented arms, the
Seventh Regiment rested on arms, and the band played a
dirge. This portion of the ceremony being over, the gov
ernor appeared on the front of the platform and spoke : —
" ' Countrymen and Fellow Citizens : The General
Assembly of the Commonwealth has ordered that the
remains of James Monroe, one of the most honored and
best beloved of her sons, shall, under the direction and at
the discretion of the governor, be removed from the pub
lic burying-ground in the city of New York to the ceme
tery at the city of Richmond. The remains are removed,
the cenotaph is open, and we are here assembled to inter
them in their last resting-place with becoming ceremonies.
" ' Venerable Patriot ! — he found his rest soon after
he retired. On the 4th of July, 1831, twenty-seven years
ago, he departed, like Jefferson and Adams, on the anni
versary of the Independence. His spirit was caught up
to heaven, and his ashes were enshrined in the soil of his
adopted State, whose daughter he had married, — of that

removal of MONROE'S REMAINS, 1859 109
grand and prosperous Commonwealth whose motto is
" Excelsior," our sister New York, the Empire State of
the United States of America. Virginia was the natural
mother of Monroe, and New York was his mother-in-law,
— Virginia by birth and baptism. New York by marriage
and burial. This was well, for he gave to her invaders
the glaived hand of " bloody welcome " at Trenton, and
New York gave to him a " hospitable grave." Virginia
respectfully aUowed his ashes to lie long enough to con
secrate her sister's soil, and now has dutifully taken them
to be " earth to her earth and ashes to her ashes," at home
in the land of his cradle. New York has graciously bowed
to the family request, has disinterred the remains, has
laid them out in state, and has sent the elite of her chi
valry to escort them with banners and trumpets, in mili
tary and civic procession, to our cemetery. Who knows
this day, here around this grave, that New York is of the
North, and that Virginia is of the South ? " The North
has given up," and " the South shall not hold back," and
they are one, even as all the now proud and preeminent
thirty-two are one.
" ' We affectionately, then, welcome New York, and cor
dially embrace her around the grave of him, Virginia's
son, to whom she gave a resting-place in life and in death.
And now I caU the minister of God to pray for his bless
ing on this passing scene. I ask the righteous man to
pray fervently and effectually for the example of this
patriot's life to be blessed to the youth of our country, —
blessed to the people of this generation ; blessed to the
pubHc men of New York and Virginia and the United
States; blessed to the cause of truth and justice and
human freedom ; and blessed to the perpetual strength,
peace, liberty, and union of this confederacy, " one and in
divisible, now and forever ! " May the good which this

110 THE END OF AN ERA
patriot did be re-vived by the disinterment of his bones,
aud may monuments of wisdom and virtue like his be so
multiplied and raised around yonder Capitol of the Mo
ther of States, that the very statues of her heroes and
sages and patriots dead and departed shaU be the moral
guide-marks of her living and active servants, to preserve
this Commonwealth, untorn in destiny and untarnished in
glory, to " the last syUable of recorded time," when the
tenants of Hollywood, this beautiful city of the dead,
shall rise to immortal life ! ' "
Of these inspiring scenes I was a silent but interested
witness. Every manifestation of patriotic and fraternal
feeling thriUed me to my inmost soul. From time to time
I had heard the mutterings of discontent and the pro
phesies of approaching conflict, but the scenes which I
beheld, and the burning words and thundering shouts I
heard that day, put at rest the last feeling of fear for the
future of my country.
At the close of the ceremonies at the grave, the artillery,
stationed outside the inclosure, fired three salvos.
Upon tbe day foUowing, the delirious city was given a
specimen of the drill and efficiency of the glorious Seventh
Regiment. Its appearance and perfection in driU and
discipline were beyond all expectations. After a review
by the governor. Colonel Duryee drilled the regiment,
without music, in various battalion movements.
I stood agape at every evolution. The Virginia troops,
which I had theretofore regarded as perfection itself,
seemed to me now a mere incongruous lot of painted toys,
contrasted with this homogeneous mass of military, neat,
brilliant in cleanliness, and absolutely without gaudiness.
In the Richmond regiment no two companies were of the
same size, and no two uniformed alike. The Grays were
gray, the Blues were blue, the Montgomery Guard was

REMOVAL OF MONROE'S REMAINS, 1859 111
green as the waters of Niagara, the Riflemen blue and
green, the Young Guard blue and red. One company had
waving plumes of white, another short pompons, a third
red and white plumes. When they were drawn up in
line, they looked deplorably irregular, contrasted with the
absolute uniformity of the handsome Seventh.
It seemed incredible that I, a protege, in fact a veteran,
of the Richmond military, — I, who until now had looked
upon the First Virginia Regiment as the finest body of
troops on earth, — could come to regard it as almost con
temptible in the short space of twenty-four hours.
Yet there were others like me.
Said one paper : —
"The recent visit of the Seventh Regiment of New
York to our city, it is to be hoped, will have a good effect
on our volunteer organization. We could but regard the
simple uniform of the entire regiment, and the neat and
unostentatious dress of its officers, as presenting a wide
contrast with the parti-colored line of our volunteers, and
the fine decorations and pompous display which meet the
eye in surveying our regimental parades.
" We have not a doubt that the volunteer force of the
city would be strengthened, would be increased in num
bers and improved in discipline, if they would consolidate
themselves into one regiment, abandon their uniforms,
and adopt a new and plain dress for the whole body of
soldiers." Little did the writer know, and less did the Seventh
Regiment suspect, that upon this visit they fixed, in the
Southern mind, a type of uniform which, within three
years, was substantiaUy adopted by the Confederate
States. Three years after this date, the First Virginia Regiment
had fought in the battle of Manassas ; and the Seventh

112 THE END OF AN ERA
was encamped at Arlington Heights, but fifteen miles' dis
tant, being part of a hostile force moving against Mount
Vernon and Richmond. Such was the rapid march of
events. After the scenes above described had closed, and the
military had departed, the remainder of the year glided
away uneventfuUy ; but the glorious memories of July 5
lingered, and all Richmond was busy in the effort to have
a real military force such as it had seen, and to abandon
the past methods of its volunteer system. As for patriotic
national feeling, it is safe to say that, when the year 1859
opened, in spite of Southern fire-eaters and Northern
fanatics, there were not, in the whole State of Virginia,
five thousand men who had any sort of sympathy -with the
idea of secession.

CHAPTER IX
THE JOHN BROWN RAID
The declamation against disunion and the mutual
pledges of fraternal love between North and South,
which attended the banquet to the Seventh New York
Regiment in Richmond, arose in great part from a know
ledge of sectional feeling, threats of disunion, and of
partisan recriminations between politicians, but too fa-
miUar to all who spoke. At the same time, an intense
antagonism to slavery existed in sections of the North
and West, accompanied by the determination to abolish
it by any means in their power, lawful or unlawful.
Little effort has been made to record the fact, yet it is
nevertheless true, that many Southern men were working
earnestly and loyaUy towards the adoption of some plan
of gradual emancipation which, while it would free the
slave, would not destroy the labor system of the South or
leave the slave-owner impoverished. The abolitionist did
not believe this. He was uncharitable in his judgment
of the humanity of the slave-owner ; and his demand that
a difficult problem, requiring tirae for its solution, should
be disposed of at once and in his way — ^jer fas aut
nefas — was strongly provoking. The attitude of the
people of the North generally concerning escaped slaves
seemed to the Southerners inconsistent, and tended to
increase the friction between the sections. The people of
the North professed great reverence for their constitu
tional obligations, and constantly disclaimed a purpose to

114 THE END OF AN ERA
interfere -with slavery where it existed. They insisted
that they were only opposed to the spread of slavery into
the free States or Territories, and would respect the rights
of the slave-owner where slavery already existed. Yet,
whenever a slave escaped, the Northern community in
which he sought asylum was practicaUy unanimous in
thinking it a great outrage and hardship if he was pur
sued into their territory and taken back to his owner. It
is often said that, before the war, only a small portion of
the Northern people belonged to the abolition party.
Whether that was true or not, it is certain that a vast
majority of every Northern community was in sympathy
with obstacles thrown in the way of recapturing escaped
slaves. Everybody, North and South, was well aware
that in many instances the slave was enticed from his
home by abolition emissaries. Yet when he reached the
North, thousands who would not have gone South to
incite him to escape did aU they could to make the work
of the emissaries effectual.
In such a condition of affairs, the practical difference
between the abolitionist and the sympathizer, to the
man who lost his slave and could not recover it, was very
nebulous. From certain descriptions of these times, one
would think that all the threats and taunts were made,
and aU the provocations were given, by the Southerners.
At this late day, such a contention is nonsense. No more
defiant, vindictive, or aggressive speech was ever made
than that of Charles Sumner, senator from Massachusetts,
in the United States Senate in 1859, on the " Barbarism
of Slavery." He had a personal grievance, it is true ; he
had been brutaUy assaulted in that chamber years before,
and his speech bore every mark of being the result of
" The patient watch and vigil long
Of him -who treasures np a wrong."

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 116
It is not justifying the assault made upon Mr. Sum
ner by Preston S. Brooks to say that no man ever did
more to provoke an attack upon himself than did Mr.
Sumner. His speech in 1856 was able, studied in its
malignity, and all the more provoking from its strength.
Nor was Sumner the only man of that class. We may
search through the congressional debates in vain for more
coarse and insulting language than that used by Senator
Ben Wade, of Ohio, upon the floor of the Senate. Every
opportunity was taken by him to lead the debates in the
Senate into sectional channels.
Acquisition of Cuba is more advocated in the North
to-day than in the South. In 1860, the project was branded
by the Republicans in the Senate as a slaveholder's scheme
for securing additional representation. The proposition
then made by Senator Slidell, to purchase Cuba for
thirty million dollars, was flouted by Wade and his party
as a raere ruse for providing " niggers for the niggerless."
Jealousy, antagonism, and hatred between the sections
animated the representatives of both, and neither lost any
opportunity to vituperate and recriminate.
WhUe this was the condition of feeling among the
politicians, it had not yet extended to the masses. For
several years, the conflict had been in progress between
the free-soilers and pro-slavery men in Kansas. The
Virginians were conservative in their views about that
struggle. They realized that the men engaged in it on
both sides were a bloodthirsty and disreputable lot. Lead
ing Virginians, supporters of Mr. Buchanan, warned him
not to go too far in subser-viency to the extreme pro-
slavery men, or to force a pro-slavery constitution upon
the State. Virginians, while they heard of the fanatical
and bloody butcheries committed in Kansas by one " Old
Brown," and men of his class, also heard of equally

116 THE END OF AN ERA
horrid crimes committed by the pro-slavery men. They
held both in abhorrence, and indorsed neither.
It was not the Kansas trouble that occasioned them
concern, or excited their apprehensions concerning- the
Union. It was the announcement by Abraham Lincoln,
of lUinois, in his debate with Douglas in 1858, that the
Union was a house divided against itself, and that sla
very and union could not coexist. It was declarations like
those of Senator Seward, of New York, that " an irrepres
sible conflict " existed between the North and South. It
was speeches of raen like Charles Suraner, breathing
deep malice against the South, and denouncing it in
polished oratory. These and a hundred others like them
from men of the North, less prominent but not less
representative, made Virginians realize that the times
were perilous, and say to theraselves : " If this temple
of union is divided against itself and must fall, if slavery
and union cannot coexist, if an irrepressible conflict is
upon us, if Mr. Sumner expresses the state of Northern
sentiment, it is manifest that the hour of disunion is
here. The only thing remaining for us to do is to begin
to consider which side of us the line of cleavage shall
come, north or south."
Virginians were no more angels or philanthropists than
people to the north or to the south of them. They were
moved by their affections, their interest, and their resent
ments, just as huraanity is moved to-day. Their strongest
social ties were with the Southern people. They had a
great part of their wealth invested in slaves ; and, while
far in advance of the States to the south of them in the
desire for some plan of gradual emancipation, they were
not willing to have their property unceremoniously jostled
out of their hands without compensation, to gratify Mr.
Lincoln, Mr. Seward, Mr. Sumner, Mr. Wade, or the

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 117
constituencies which they represented. They thought the
conditions of future association announced by these men a
rather high and hasty price for the privilege. And, lastly,
their very love of the Union inflamed them against men
who, as they viewed it, were making union impossible,
except on terras involving humiliating surrender to the
abolitionist. It is often said by writers that Mr. Lincoln and Mr.
Seward, when they spoke of a divided house, the im
possibility of the coexistence of union and slavery, and
the " irrepressible conflict," were simply stating abstract
propositions, and did not mean that they would counsel
a physical assault upon slavery or the enactment of
unconstitutional laws, and that their figures of speech
referred only to the logic of the political situation. Their
language may have been intended as statements of
abstract principles ; but, assuredly, what they said was
susceptible of, and received, quite another construction.
By their foUowers and opponents they were understood as
declaring war on slavery, immediate and uncompromising.
As for Mr. Sumner and Mr. Wade, nobody pretended
that they meant anything else. The Southerners may
have been more demonstrative and noisy in their quarrels ;
but they were not a whit more stubborn, aggressive,
defiant, or irritating than the men of the North. The
Southern man scoffed the pretense that the Northern man
really desired union, when he refused to subordinate his
deraands concerning slavery to any other consideration.
The Northern man denounced the Southern man as hat
ing the Union, because he would not consent to remain
in it, even if he believed that the North, while professing
the purpose of respecting his right, at heart intended to
deprive him of his slave property on the first opportunity.
This political warfare was very intense in 1858-59. The

118 THE END OF AN ERA
debates between Lincoln and Douglas on the slavery
question, in the auturan of 1858, kindled the fires of
slavery and anti-slavery discussion on every hilltop. In
1859, the awful tragedy in which Senator Broderick was
kUled by Judge Terry in California, in a duel growing
out of the slavery question, lent fuel to the flame.
Just at this crisis an event occurred, which was made a
test, in the mind of the average Virginian, of the real feel
ing of the North towards the South. After it happened, he
set himself to determining what was the real meaning,
the real tendency, and what was to be the outcome, of the
doctrines announced by Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Seward, Mr.
Sumner, and others during the years 1858 and 1859.
He believed that in the expressions of the North, concern
ing this event, he would find the best evidence of what
their real sentiments were towards the South.
The attack of John Brown upon Harper's Ferry came
upon Virginia Hke a clap of thunder out of a clear sky.
In the afternoon of October 17, 1859, I was passing
along Main Street in Richmond, when I observed a crowd
of people gathering about the buUetin board of a news
paper. In those days, news did not travel so rapidly as
now ; besides which, the telegraph lines at the place from
which the news came were cut.
The first report read : —
" There is trouble of some sort at Harper's Ferry. A
party of workraen have seized the Government Armory."
Soon another message flashed : " The men at Harper's
Ferry are not workmen. They are Kansas border ruffians,
who have attacked and captured the place, fired upon and
kiUed several unarmed citizens, and captured Colonel
Washington and other prominent citizens of the neighbor
hood. We cannot understand their plans or ascertain
their numbers."

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 119
By this time an immense throng had assembled, agape
with wonder.
Naturally reflecting that the particulars of an outbreak
Hke this would first reach the governor, I darted home
ward. I found my father in the library, roused from his
afternoon siesta, in the act of reading the telegrams which
he had just received. They were simply to the effect
that the arsenal and government property at Harper's
Ferry were in possession of a band of rioters, without
describing their character. I promptly and breathlessly
told what I had seen on the bulletin boards, and, while I
was hurriedly delivering my news, other messengers arrived
with telegrams to the same effect as those posted in the
streets. The governor was by this time fully aroused.
He was prompt in action. His first move was to seize
the Virginia code, take a reference, and indite a telegram
addressed to Colonel John Thomas Gibson, of Charles-
town, commandant of the militia regiment within whose
territory the invasion had occurred, directing him to order
out, for the defense of the State, the militia under his
comraand, and iramediately report what he had done.
Within ten minutes after the receipt of the telegram,
these instructions were on the way. Similar instructions
were flashed to Colonel Robert W. Baylor, of the Third
Regiment of Militia Cavalry.
The military system of the State was utterly inefficient,
ha-ving nothing but skeleton organization. The telegrams
continued to come rapidly, describing a condition of ex
citement amounting to a panic in the neighborhood of
Harper's Ferry. The numbers of the attacking force
were exaggerated, until some reports placed them as high
as a thousand. The ramifications of the conspiracy were
of course unkno-wn.
I was promptly dispatched to summon the Secretary of

120 THE END OF AN ERA
the Commonwealth, the Adjutant-General, and the colonel
and adjutant of the First Regiment. I found almost im
mediately all but the adjutant, for whom 1 searched long.
At last this young gentleman was discovered, all uncon
scious of impending trouble, playing dominoes in a Ger
man restaurant, and regaling himself with the then
comparatively new drink of " lager." Hurrying back
with my last capture, we found the others assembled, and
instantly the adjutant received instructions to order out
the First Virginia Regiment at eight o'clock p. M., armed
and equipped, and provided with three days' rations, at
the Washington depot.
In those days, the track ran down the centre of the
street, and the depot was in the most popular portion of
the city. News of the disturbance having gone abroad, it
was an easy task to assemble the regiment ; and, by the
time appointed, all Richraond was on hand to learn the
true meaning of the outbreak, and witness the departure
of the troops. Company after company marched through
the streets to the rendezvous. The governor transferred
his headquarters to the depot, where he and his staff
awaited the last telegrams which might arrive before his
departure. Telegrams were sent to the President and to
the governor of Maryland for authority to pass through
the District of Columbia and Maryland with armed
troops, that route being the quickest to Harper's Ferry.
The dingy old depot, generally so dark and gloomy at
this hour of the night, was brilliantly illuminated. The
train of cars, which was to transfer the troops, stood
in the middle of the street. The regiment was formed
as the companies arrived, and was resting in the badly
Hghted street, awaiting final orders.
The masses of the populace swarming about the sol
diers presented every variety of excitement, interest, and
curiosity.

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 121
As for me, my " mannishness " (there is no other word
expressive of it) was such that, forgetting what an insig
nificant chit I was, I actually attempted to accompany the
troops. Transported by enthusiasm, I rushed home, donned a
little blue jacket with brass buttons and a navy cap,
selected a Virginia rifle nearly half as tall again as my
self, rigged myself with a powder-horn and buUets, and,
availing myself of the darkness, crept into the Hne of
K Company. The file-closers and officers knew me, and
indulged me to the extent of not interfering with me,
never doubting the matter would adjust itself. Other
smaU boys, who got a sight of rae standing there, were
variously affected. Sorae were green with envy, while
others ridiculed me with pleasant suggestions concerning
what would happen when father caught me.
In time, the order to embark was recftived. I carae to
" attention " -with the others, went through the orders,
marched into the car, and took my seat. It reaUy looked
as if the plan was to succeed. Alas and alas for these
hopes ! One incautious utterance had thwarted all my
plans. When I went home to caparison myself for war,
the household had been too much occupied to observe ray
preparations. I succeeded in donning my improvised
uniform, secured my arras, and had almost reached the
outer door of the basement, when I encountered Lucy,
one of the slave chambermaids.
" Hi ! Mars' John. Whar is you gwine ? " exclaimed
Lucy, surprised.
" To Harper's Ferry," was the proud reply, and off I
sped. " I declar', I b'leeve that boy thinks hisself a man, sho'
'nuff," said Lucy, as she glided into the house. It was
not long before she told Eliza, the housekeeper, who in

122 THE END OF AN ERA
turn hurried to my invalid mother with the news. She
summoned Jim, the butler, and sent him to father with
the information.
Now Jim, the butler, was one of my natural enemies.
However the Southern man may have been master of the
negro, there were compensatory processes whereby certain
negroes were masters of their masters' children. Never
was autocracy more absolute than that of a Virginia but
ler. Jim may have been father's slave, but I was Jim's
minion, and felt it. There was no potentate I held in
greater reverence, no tyrant whose mandates I heard in
greater fear, no ogre whose grasp I should have felt with
greater terrop. This statement may not be fully appreci
ated by others, but wiU touch a responsive chord in the
heart of every Southern-bred man who passed his youth in
a household where " Uncle Charles," or " Uncle Henry,"
or " Uncle Washington," or uncle somebody, wielded the
sceptre of authority as family butler. Bless their old souls,
dead and goiie, what did they want with freedom ? They
owned and commanded everything and everybody that
came into their iittle world. E-v^n their o-wn masters and
mistresses were dependent upon them to an extent that
only increased their sense of their own importance. What
Southern boy wiU «ever forget the terrors of that frown
which met him at the front door and scanned his rauddy
foot-marks on the marble steps? What roar was ever
more terrible — what grasp more icy or relentless — than
those of his father's butler surprising him in the cake-
box or the preserve-jar ? What criminal, dragged to jus
tice, ever appeared before the court more thoroughly
cowed into subjection than the Southern boy led before
the head of the house in the strong grip of that domestic
despot ?
" What ! " exclaimed the governor, on hearing Jim's

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 123
report of my escapade, " is that young rascal reaUy try
ing to go ? Hunt him up, Jim ! Capture him ! Take
away his arms, and march him home in front of
you ! " Laughing heartily, he resumed his work, weU
knowing that Jim understood his orders and would exe
cute them.
Think of such authority given to a negro, just when
John Bro-wn was turning the heads of the slaves with
ideas of their own importance ! Is it not monstrous ? I
was sitting in a car, enjoying the sense of being my coun
try's defender starting for the wars, when I recognized a
weU-known voice in the adjoining car, inquiring, " Gentle
men, is any ov you seed anythin' ov de Gov'ner's little boy
about here ? I 'm a-lookin' fur him under orders to take
him home."
I shoved my long squirrel-rifle under the seats and fol
lowed it, amid the laughter of those about me. I heard
the dread footsteps approach, and the inquiry repeated.
No voice responded ; but, by the silence and the tittering,
I knew I was betrayed. A great, shiny black face, with
immense whites to the eyes, peeped almost into my own,
and, with a broad grin, said, " Well, I declar' ! Here
you is at las' ! Cum out. Mars' John." But John did
not come. Jim, after coaxing a little, seized a leg, and,
as he drew me forth, clinging to my long rifle, he ex
claimed, " Well, 'fore de Lord ! how much gun has dat
boy got, anyhow ? " and the soldiers went wild with laugh
ter. In full possession of the gun, and pushing me before
him, Jim marched his prisoner home. Once or twice I
made a show of resistance, but it was in vain. " Here,
you boy ! You better mind how you cut yo' shines.
You must er lost yo' senses. Yo' father told me to take
you home. I gwine do it, too, you understand? Ef

124 THE END OF AN ERA
you don't mind, I 'U take you straight to him, and you
know and I know dat if I do, he 'U tare you up aUve fur
botherin' him with yo' foolishiss, busy ez he is." I real
ized that it was even so, and, sadly crestfaUen, was deliv
ered into my mother's chamber, where, after a lecture
upon the folly of my course, I was kept until the Harper's
Ferry expedition was fairly on its way.
What I learned of events at Harper's Ferry was de
rived from the testimony of others. The First Virginia
Regiment reached Washington; but, on arrival there,
the Richmond troops returned, in consequence of the
news of the capture of all the insurgents at Harper's
Ferry by the United States Marines.
This mad effort, so quickly and so terribly ended, was
in itself utterly insignificant. John Brown, its leader,
was the character of murderous monomaniac found at
the head of every such desperate venture. He has often
been described as a Puritan in faith and in type. It is not
the province of this writer to inquire into the correctness
of this classification. He was an uncompromising, blood
thirsty fanatic. Born in the year 1800, he lived for fifty-
six years without any sort of prominence. He was never
successful in business ventures, had farmed, raised sheep,
experimented in grape culture, made wine, and engaged
in growing and buying wool. At one time in his life, and
up to a jDeriod not long before his death, he was regarded
as an infidel by his associates, although at the time of his
death he declared hiraself a true believer. In October,
1855, he appeared in Kansas, and at once became promi
nent as a leader of armed bands of free-soilers. On his
way to the defense of Lawrence, in 1856, he heard of the
destruction which had taken place there, and turned back.
He resolved to avenge the acts of the pro-slavery horde.
He reckoned up that five free-soil men had been killed.

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 125
and resolved that their blood should be expiated by an
equal number of victims.
" Without the shedding of blood, there is no remission
of sins," was a favorite text with Brown. He called for
volunteers to go on a secret expedition, and held a sort of
Druidical conclave before starting out. Four sons, a son-
in-law, and two others accompanied him. He had a
strange power of imbuing his dupes with his own fanati
cism. When he avowed his purpose to massacre the
pro-slavery raen living on Pottawatomie Creek, one of his
foUowers demurred. Brown said, " I have no choice.
It has been decreed by Almighty God that I should raake
an example of these men."
On Saturday night. May 24, 1856, John Brown and
his band visited house after house upon Pottawatomie
Creek, and, caUing man after man from his bed, murdered
five in cold blood. They first visited the house of Doyle,
and compeUed a father and two sons to go with them.
The next morning, the father and one son were found
dead in the road about two hundred yards from the house.
The father was " shot in the forehead and stabbed in the
breast. The son's head was cut open, and there was a
hole in his jaw as though made by a knife." The other
son was found dead about a hundred and fifty yards
away in the grass, " his fingers cut off and his arms cut
off, his head cut open, and a hole in his breast."
Then they went to Wilkinson's, reaching there after
midnight. They forced open the door and ordered him
to go with them. His -wife was sick and helpless, and
begged them not to take him away. Her prayer was of
no avail. The next day Wilkinson was found dead, " a
gash in his head and side."
Their next victim was William Sherman. When found
in the morning, his " skull was split open in two places,

126 THE END OF AN ERA
and some brains were washed out. A large hole was cut
in his breast, and his left hand was cut off, except a little
piece of skin on one side." The execution was done with
short cutlasses brought from Ohio by Brown.
" It was said that on the next morning, when the old
man raised his hands to Heaven to ask a blessing, they
were stiU stained with the dry blood of his victims." ^ In
his life by Sanborn is a picture of him made about this
time. It represents him clean-shaven, and is, no doubt,
the best picture extant by which to study the physiog
nomy of a man capable of these things.
The tidings of these executions caused a cry of horror
to go up, even in bloody Kansas. The squatters on
Pottawatomie Creek, without distinction of party, met
together and denounced the outrage and its perpetrators.
The free-state men everywhere disavowed such methods.
The governor sent a military force to the Pottawatomie
to discover the assassins. The border ruffians took the
field to avenge the massacre. One Pate, feeling sure
" Old Brown," as he was caUed, was the author of the
outrage, went in search of him. Brown met him, gave
battle, and captured Pate and his command.
Kansas was in a state of civil war ; the governor or
dered aU armed companies to disperse ; and Colonel Sum
ner, with fifty United States dragoons, forced Brown to
release his prisoners, but, although a United States
marshal was with him, made no arrests.
This gives an insight into the character of John
Brown, " the martyr." Drunk with blood, inflamed by
the death of one of his sons in these border feuds,
impeUed to further deeds of violence, no doubt, by the
immunity secured from those committed in Kansas, John
Brown began, as early as the fall of 1857, in far-away
1 See Ehodes's History of the United States, toI. ii. p. 162, etc.

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 127
Kansas, to formulate his plans for an outbreak in Vir
ginia. His confederate Cook, in his confession, has
left the whole story.
Inducing Cook and eight or ten others, over whom he
seems to have possesed complete mastery, to join him, they
started east to attend a military school, as it was said, in
Ashtabula County, Ohio. The party united at Tabor, Iowa ;
there, in the auturan of 1857, he revealed to this choice
band that his ultimate destination was the State of Vir
ginia. His companions demurred at first, but his strong
wUl prevailed. They shipped eastward two hundred
Sharp's rifles that had been sent to Tabor for his Kansas
enterprises the year previous. In May, 1858, Brown held
a convention in Chatham, Canada, in a negro church,
with a negro preacher for president, and adopted a con
stitution, which, without naming any territory to which
it was to apply, said: "We, the citizens of the United
States, and the oppressed people, who, etc., do ordain
and establish for ourselves the foUowing provisional con
stitution and ordinances." This constitution, drawn up
by John Brown, and adopted by himself and half a
dozen whites, and as many more negroes in Canada,
provided for legislative, executive, and judicial branches
of his governraent. It also provided for treaties of
peace, for a commander-in-chief, for communism of pro
perty, for capturing and confiscating property, for the
treatment of prisoners, and for many absurd things
besides. After providing for the slaughter or the rob
bery of nearly everybody in the United States who
did not join the organization, or voluntarily free their
slaves and agree to keep the peace, it culminated in a
declaration : —
" Art. 46. The foregoing articles shaU not be con
strued so as in any way to encourage the overthrow of

128 THE END OF AN ERA
any state government, or of the general government of
the United States, and look to no dissolution of the
Union, but simply to amendment and repeal, and our
flag shaU be the same as our fathers fought under in the
Revolution." No one can read the absurd jargon and believe that
it was the product of the same brain. Yet the last
declaration of the document is no more inconsistent with
the facts than were the repeated declarations of Brown,
after he had killed a number of people at Harper's
Ferry, that he proposed no violence. Nor was it a whit
more absurd than the pretended loyalty to State and
country of those who applauded his career of murder
and robbery, and treason both state and national.
From May, 1858, to October, 1859, Brown pursued his
plans. He rented a farm near Harper's Ferry, and there
coUected his arms and amraunition, without exciting sus
picion. Delays occurred from lack of funds, etc. An
anonymous letter was sent to the Secretary of War, in
the spring of 1859, revealing his plans and purposes, but
it seems to have made no impression, although the Secre
tary of War was a Southern man.
Shortly before Brown made his demonstration, his
cohorts, to the number of twenty, black and white,
assembled at his farmhouse, and Sunday night, October
16, 1859, they descended upon Harper's Ferry. About
10.30 p. M., they seized and captured the watchman upon
the railroad bridge across the Potomac, and proceeded
with him to the United States armory, of which they took
possession. Brown then sent forth a party, headed by his
lieutenant. Cook, to capture Colonel Lewis Washington
and Mr. AUstadt, leading citizens, who were to be held as
hostages. These gentlemen were compelled to leave their
beds, and accompany the invaders. Their slaves, to the

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 129
number of thirty, were also compeUed, against their
wiU, to join the party. Colonel Washington was a grand-
nephew of George Washington, and a member of the
staff of the governor of Virginia.
A sword of Frederick the Great, which had been pre
sented to George Washington, was " appropriated " for
use by John Brown. At this point we are introduced to
the word selected by Brown as descriptive of his taking
other people's property. He did not caU it steaUng, or
robbery, or violent seizure. He invariably referred to it
as " appropriating," and he pronounced the word in a
peculiar way, — putting the whole emphasis upon the
second syllable, as if it were si-prop-ria,tmg. It was a
favorite and oft-repeated word with hira. Here also we see,
in his appropriating the sword of Frederick the Great to
be worn by himself, that overshadowing egotism which
was one of his most prominent characteristics, — the inor
dinate vanity of lunacy.
It was an ill omen for his venture that the first person
killed by his band in the early morning was an inoffen
sive colored man, a porter at the railroad station, who,
being ordered to stop and seeking to escape, was shot as
he ran away. The next victim was a citizen killed stand
ing in his own door. The next, a graduate of West Point,
who, ha-ving heard of the trouble at the Ferry, was shot
from the armory as he rode into town on horseback
armed with a gun.
It is impossible to describe the consternation which
these scenes produced among the citizens of Harper's
Ferry. When the marines had completed their lawful and
proper work the following morning, John Brown lay on
the grass desperately wounded. His entire party was
killed, wounded, or captured, and the dead bodies of two

130 THE END OF AN ERA
of his sons were beside him. It was a ghastly ending
of a horrid venture. As has been truly said of it by an
eminent Northern historian : " In the light of common
sense, the plan was folly ; from a military point of view,
it was absurd." The first question which arises in the
mind of every one is. Did John Brown know the nature
of his own acts? As far as man may answer such a
question, he answered it himself on many occasions.
While in the engine-house, receiving and returning
the fire of the marines, one of his prisoners, Mr. Dain-
gerfield, told hira he was committing treason. One of his
followers spoke up and said : " Captain Brown, are we
guilty of treason in what we are doing ? I did not so
understand it."
" Certainly," said Brown, and coolly kept up his fire.
When examined after his surrender, and upon his trial,
he said he fully understood the nature of his acts and the
consequences, and peremptorily refused to permit any
plea of lunacy to be interposed in his defense.
John Brown was tried for treason, murder, and inciting
slaves to insurrection. His trial occupied six days. He
was defended by able counsel, of his o-wn selection, from
Massachusetts and Ohio. Every witness he desired sum
moned appeared. The evidence of his guilt was over
whelming, and he was sentenced to death. Any other
penalty would have been a travesty of justice, and a con
fession that the organized governments which he assailed
were mockeries, affording no protection to their citizens
against midnight murder and assassination. Did the
Virginians exult over the -wretched victim of his o-wn
lawlessness ? NO !
The " New York Herald " published the account of
how that verdict was received : " Not the slightest sound
was heard in the vast crowd, as this verdict was returned

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 131
and read; not the slightest expression of elation or tri
umph was uttered from the hundreds present. . . . Nor
was this strange silence interrupted during the whole of
the time occupied by the forms of the court."
When Brown was asked if he had anything to say
why sentence should not be pronounced, he said among
other things : " I admire the truthfulness and candor of
the greater portion of the witnesses who have testified.
... I feel entirely satisfied with the treatment I have
received on my trial. Considering aU the circumstances,
it has been more generous than I expected." He ad
mitted a design to free the slaves, but denied all inten
tion to commit treason, or murder, or violence in so doing,
and declared that in what he had done he felt fuUy justi
fied before God and man.
There was nothing remarkable or unusual in talk like
this by a man like that. It has been the usual jabber
of desperate, unbalanced egotists and law-breakers since
vanity, ignorance, and fanaticism produced the first
assailant of organized government. It was heard again
when Wilkes Booth, assassinating Lincoln, exclaimed:
" ' Sic semper tyrannis ! ' " and again, when Guiteau slew
Garfield, claiming that he served his country in commit
ting the base deed.
The Virginians took the life of John Brown to preserve
their own lives, and the lives of their wives and children,
from destruction. He had, indeed, " whetted knives of
butchery " for them, and had come a thousand miles to
kill people who had never heard his narae.
Yet, when the majesty of the law was vindicated, they did
not gloat over his dead body or mutilate his corpse, as he
had done his Kansas victims. They did not boil his bones
and articulate them to be hung in a public museum. When
justice was satisfied, his body, unmutilated, was delivered

132 THE END OF AN ERA
to his wife to bear back to his home, and she is a witness
to the fact that she was shown all the sympathy, all the
tenderness, aU the consideration, of which the awful situa
tion admitted.
When the Virginia people first came into possession of
the facts of the John Brown fiasco, they did not believe
the outrage had been promoted or would be justified by
any considerable number of sane, law-abiding people
anywhere. With an inborn love of courage, the bearing
of John Brown was so fearless throughout that, even in
their anger at his impotent violence, they admired his
fortitude. Even the governor of the State testified to
this. Describing his appearance as he lay wounded
before him, he said he could liken his attitude to nothing
but "a broken-winged hawk lying upon his back, with
fearless eye, and talons set for further fight if need be,"
and such was undoubtedly the man ; such have been
many others like him. The quality of perfect courage,
coupled with an unbalanced judgment, narrow-minded
ness, and fanaticism, has produced a hundred characters
in history like Brown. Pity, pity, pity it is to see that
splendid quality perverted and destroyed by such fatal
accompaniments. It was with a genuine sigh of admira
tion for this fortitude that, without one doubt about their
duty, the Virginians imposed the penalty for his crime
upon John Brown.
To one who knows the truth, the most tantalizing
reflections upon the John Brown raid are these : The man
who, as colonel in the army of the United States,
captured Brown ; the governor of Virginia, under whose
administration he was justly hung ; ay, a majority of
the people of Virginia — were at heart opposed to slavery.
Uninterrupted by madmen like Brown, they would have
accomplished, in good time, the emancipation of the

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 133
slave without the awful fratricidal scenes which he pre
cipitated. Of course there are those who will still deny
this, and conclusive proof is impossible. History took its
course. Yet it is hard that one madman was able to
warp that course, and it is wrong to glorify him as saint
and martyr, while men infinitely his superiors in intellect,
in broad philanthropy, in civilization, and his equals in
moral and physical courage, were driven by his folly into
apparent advocacy of slavery. Neither Colonel Lee nor
the governor of Virginia were champions of slavery.
Both rejoiced at its final overthrow, even at the great
price in blood and treasure at which it was accomplished.
The fanaticism which applauded Brown's acts made them
feel that there was no possible peace or union with such
people, and made them resolve that, sooner than submit
to such savage fraternity, they would fight for freedom
from its dictation, its taunts, and its interference.
When Virginia had performed her duty in executing
Brown, her next step was to inquire what sympathy she
received in the hour of her trial. She expected, as she
had a right to expect, that the North, boasting of its
superior civilization and its greater regard for the main
tenance of the laws protecting person and property,
woidd be practically unanimous in condemnation. Even
the half-civilized free-soilers of Kansas had denounced
Brown's barbarism.
When it was learned that, in many parts of the North,
churches held services of humiliation and prayer ; that
bells were tolled ; that minute-guns were fired ; that
Brown was glorified as a saint ; that even in the legisla
ture of Massachusetts, eight out of nineteen senators
had voted to adjourn at the tirae of his execution ; that
Christian rainisters had been parties to his scheraes of
assassination and robbery ; that women had canonized the

134 THE END OF AN ERA
bloodthirsty old lunatic as " St. John the Just ; " that
philanthropists had pronounced him " most truly Chris
tian ; " that Northern poets like Whittier and Emerson
and Longfellow were writing panegj^rics upon him ; that
Wendell Phillips and WilHam Lloyd Garrison approved
his life, and counted him a martyr, — then Virginians
began to feel that an " irrepressible conflict " was indeed
upon them. Still, they waited to ascertain how wide
spread this feeling was.
Horace Greeley, editor of the " New York Tribune,"
the leading Republican journal of the North, contented
himself with referring to Brown and his followers as
" mistaken men," but added that he would " not by one
reproachful word disturb the bloody shrouds wherein
John Brown and his corapatriots are sleeping." John
A. Andrew, of Massachusetts, presided at a John Brown
meeting, proclaiming that whether the enterprise was
wise or foolish, John Brown hiraself was right. The
next year, Mr. Andrew was elected governor of Massa
chusetts. The Northern elections in the month succeeding
John Brown's raid showed gains to the Republicans in
the North. Lincoln spoke in February, 1860, at Cooper
Institute, New York. His comments on Brown were
looked for with anxiety. He said John Brown's effort
was " peculiar ; " and while he characterized it as absurd,
he had no word of censure. Seward spoke soon after
wards in the Senate. He was a man of more refine
ment than Lincoln. He represented a constituency more
highly civilized, and one in which a greater regard for
law existed than in the West. He dared to say that
Brown "attempted to subvert slavery in Virginia by
consjiiracy, ambush, invasion, and force," and to add that
" this attempt to execute an unlawful purpose in Vir
ginia by invasion, involving servile war, was an act of

THE JOHN BROWN RAID 135
sedition and treason, and criminal in just the extent that
it affected the public peace and was destructive of human
happiness and life."
Seward's detestation of slavery was more widely known
than Lincoln's. Up to that time, he had no formidable
competitor for the Republican nomination for the presi
dency. It is not improbable that, in the then excited
state of Northern feeling, the two candid admissions above
quoted cost him the nomination for the presidency.
While these scenes were being enacted, a great change
of feeling took place in Virginia towards the people of
the North and towards the Union itself. Virginians
began to look upon the people of the North as hating
them, and willing to see them assassinated at midnight by
their own slaves, led by Northern emissaries ; as flinging
aside aU pretense or regard for laws protecting the slave
owner ; as demanding of them the immediate freeing of
their slaves ; or that they prepare against further attacks
like Brown's, backed by the raoral and pecuniary support
of the North.
During the year 1860, the Virginians began to organize
and arm themselves against such emergencies. They knew
that, while Jaraes Buchanan was President, the power of the
federal adrainistration could be relied upon to suppress
such violence ; but they also knew that his term of office
was nearly at an end, and they had little hope of such
protection if the federal administration fell into the
hands of the Republicans. While the State was stiU
unprepared to secede, her citizens were a unit in the
resolve that Northern fanatics, who thenceforth appeared
on Virginia soil upon any such mission as that of John
Brown, should " be welcomed with bloody hands to hos
pitable graves."
When the troops came back from Harper's Ferry, they

136 THE END OF AN ERA
were amply supplied with songs. The first and most
popular was one upon John Brown, sung to the tune
of " The Happy Land of Canaan." It had a number
of verses, only one of which I remember, running some
thing after this fashion: —
" In Harper's Ferry section, there was an insurrection,
John Brown thought the niggers would sustain him,
But old master Governor Wise
Put his specs upon his eyes,
And he landed in the happy land of Canaan.
KEFRAIN.
" Oh me I Oh my ! The Southern boys are a-trainin',
We 'U take a piece of rope
And march 'em up a slope,
And land 'em in the happy land of Canaan."
It is surprising how popular this rigmarole became
through the South, and many a time during the war I
heard the regiments, as they marched, sing verses frora it.
It is in contrast with the soleran swell of " John Brown's
Body," as rendered by the Union troops. The latter
is only an adaptation of a favorite camp-meeting hymn
which I often heard the negroes sing, as they worked in
the fields, long before the days of John Brown. The old
words were : —
" My poor body lies a-mouldering in the clay,
My poor body lies a-mouldering in the clay,
My poor body lies a-mouldering in the clay,
While my soul goes marching on.
REFKAIN.
" Glory, glory, haUelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
As my soul goes marching on."

CHAPTER X
how THE " SLAVE-DRIVERS " LIVED
Our life during the year 1860 was in strange contrast
-with the busy and exciting scenes of 1858 and 1859.
Father's term of office expired January 1, 1860. He
sold his plantation in Accomac, and bought another in the
county of Princess Anne, near NorfoUi. This change was
due partly to domestic and partly to political considera
tions. During a period of rebuilding at " RoUeston," our new
home, I was sent, January 1, 1860, to live with a favor
ite sister, and attend a private school presided over by
the parish minister, a Master of Arts of the University
of Virginia. The location was in the county of Gooch
land, about twenty miles west of Richmond, in the beauti
ful vaUey of the upper James.
From Lynchburg, which is near the foot-hills of the
Blue Ridge, the James River courses eastward to Rich
mond, a distance of about two hundred miles, through a
valley of great fertility and beauty. The width of this
vaUey seldora exceeds a mile, and at many points it is
much narrower than that. The flat lands along the
course of the stream are kno-wn as the " James River low
grounds," an expression which conveys to the mind of the
Virginian an idea of fatness and fecundity such as others
conceive in reading of the vaUey of the NUe. About
Lynchburg, high bluffs hang over the stream, and the flat
lands are narrow and small in extent ; but from Howards-

138 THE END OF AN ERA
ville, in Albemarle, to Richmond, a hundred mUes below,
the valley broadens, and the bluffs grow less beetling as
the gently roUing lands of lower Piedmont are reached.
In general characteristics, the section resembles the val
leys of the Genesee and the Mohawk in New York, with a
greater luxuriance of woodland and more extended vistas.
Upon the sweUing hills overlooking the James were
built, at the time of which I write, for a distance of a
hundred miles or more, the homes of many of the wealthi
est and most representative people of our State»
No railroad penetrated the valley. The only means
provided for transporting products to market was the
James River and Kanawha Canal, an enterprise projected
by General Washington. It had been completed as far
as Lexington, passing through the Blue Ridge Mountains
at the point known as Balcony Falls, a spot suggestive of
the Trosachs pass in Scotland.
For their own transportaition up and down the valley,
these prosperous folk had private equipages and servants.
When the distance was greater than a day's journey, the
home of some friend, generally a kinsman, stood wide
open for their entertainment. The canal was available
upon emergency as a raeans of travel, but as its speed
was only about four miles an hour, few of the grandees
resorted to it. A fine road ran along the foot-hills, par
allel with the canal and river, from Richmond to Char-
lottes-viUe, often keeping companionship for a mile or two
with the route of the canal. The hills were of that stiff
red clay celebrated afar for its adaptability to corn and
tobacco ; and the soil of the low grounds, often refreshed
and rejuvenated by the overflow of the James, was a deep
alluvial deposit of chocolate loam, inexhaustible in rich
ness and fertility, and producing aU the cereals in mar
velous abundance.

HOW THE "SLAVE-DRIVERS" LIVED 139
RecaUing a few of the princely dwellers in this favored
section, one remembers the Cabells of Nelson ; the Gaits
of Albemarle ; the Cockes of Fluvanna ; the Hubards of
Buckingham ; the BoUings of Boiling Island and BoUing
Hall ; the Harrisons of Ampthill, and Clifton, and Elk
Hill ; the Hobsons of " Howard's Neck," and " Snowden,"
and " Eastwood ; " the Flemings of " West View ; " the
Rutherfords of " Rock Castle ; " General Phalip St.
George Cocke of " BeUe Mead ; " the Skipwiths ; the
Logans of " Dungeness ; " the Seldens of " Orapax " and
of "Norwood; " the Warwicks; the Michaux of Michaux'e
Ferry ; the Morsons of " Dover ; " the Seddons of " Sabot
HiU ; " the Stanards of " Bendover; " the AUens of "Tuck-
ahoe ; " and many others : —
" Their swords are rust,
Their bodies dust ;
Their souls are with the saints, we trust."
Scattered along the valley, owning respectively from
seven hundred to two or three thousand acres, with slaves
enough to cultivate twice the lands they o-wned, they were
the happiest and raost prosperous coraraunity in all Amer
ica ; not rolling, in wealth, like the sugar cane and cotton
planters of the South, yet with a thousand advantages
over them, in the variety of their productions, in the
beauty of their lands, in the salubrity of their climate, in
the society about them, and in their access to the outer
world. The home of my sister was on one of these fine James
River estates, and her neighbors were of the most highly
cultivated people of whom that region boasted. The
plantation had been purchased from Colonel TreviUian,
descendant of an old Huguenot family, and its narae,
"Eastwood," had been bestowed by its former owner,
Peyton Harrison. My brother-in-law, after an education

140 THE END OF AN ERA
in Europe, had essayed business, but ill-health compeUed
hira to adopt a country life. The house stood in a grove
of oaks of original growth, in the midst of an extensive
lawn carpeted with greensward. Behind it were the sta^
bles, the inclosures, and the household servants' quarters.
In front, half a mUe away, were the low grounds and
river ; and to the left again, half a mile distant, stood the
overseer's house, the quarters of the farm hands, and
the farm stables. Up and down the river were visible
the handsome residences of the neighbors. On remote
hiUsides or in the wooded points, one saw, here and there,
great barns of brick or wood for storing wheat or corn,
and houses where tobacco was stripped and hung, and
smoked and dried, and pressed into hogsheads. Intermi
nable lines of stone or post and oak fences, without one
missing panel, showed, as few other things in farming do
show, the prosperity of the owners of these lands. Great
fields — this one pale green with winter wheat, this sere
and brown in pasture land, this red with newly ploughed
clods, and this with a thousand hillocks whence the
tobacco had been gleaned — were spread out to the vision,
clean of weeds and undergrowth, and cultivated until they
looked like veritable maps of agriculture.
Near at hand, or far away upon the hillsides, one be
held the working-bands of slaves, well clothed, well fed,
and differing from other workmen, as we see them now,
chiefly in their numbers and their cheerfulness and their
comfortable clothing. Remarkable as the statement may
seem, those slaves, over whose sad fate so many tears have
been shed, went about their work more joyously than any
laboring people I ever saw.
Our school was located a mile away, in rear of the river
plantations, upon a road leading to what was known as
" the back country." A little church, built from the pri-

HOW THE "SLAVE-DRIVERS" LIVED 141
vate contributions of the river planters, was used as the
schoolhouse. It was near the parsonage. That point was
selected, not only for its convenience to the teacher, but
also because of its accessibility to the children of the
smaUer farmers in this " back country." It is often said
that antagonism existed between this humbler class of
whites and the wealthy nabobs Hving upon the river.
Perhaps there may have been something of the inevitable
en-vy which the less fortunate feel everywhere towards the
prosperous and great, but certain it is, there was little
manifestation of it there. The wealthy sought in every
way to be upon good terms with the poor ; and one of the
best proofs that they succeeded is found in the fact that,
when war came, the two stood up together side by side,
and fought and slept and ate and died together, — never
thinking of which was rich or which was poor, until a tirae
when such as survived were all poor together, and those
who had always been poor were in their turn the more
fortunate of the two.
Our nearest neighbors were the Seddons, — one of the
loveliest families of people that ever lived. The head of
the house was a gentleman who, after a thorough educa
tion, had achieved distinction at the bar and in Congress,
but, owing to delicate health, had retired to his planta
tion. He entertained extreme views on the subjects of
slavery and the nullification doctrines of Calhoun ; but
for years he had, owing to precarious health, taken no
active part in politics. Polished in manners, gentle in
his bearing, hospitable and considerate in all things, he
captivated visitors to his home as soon as they entered it.
And in whatever he failed, his wife more than atoned
for it by her graciousness. She was the accomplished
heiress, Sally Bruce. She and her sister EUen, both
beautiful in person and in character, and thoroughly edu-

142 THE END OF AN ERA
cated, took Richmond society by storm upon tlieir first
appearance there in the 40's, and succumbed at last to
the blandishments of two young cousins, married them,
bought adjoining plantations in Goochland, and were
now rearing their children side by side. Such were the
families of Hon. James A. Seddon and James M. Morson,
Esq. Some of the happiest days of my childhood, some
of the most elevating, purifying, and refining hours of
all my life, were passed in these two households. Both
Mr. and Mrs. Seddon were accomplished linguists, and
deraanded that their children should be as well educated
as themselves. Their library was supplied with the best
thought of the world, and the course of literary culture
prescribed by them for their children was not only com
prehensive, but was made attractive by the way in which
it was pursued. Often the evening gatherings of the
faraily were converted into reading classes, and, with the
charming voice of their mother added to the attraction of
the subject, the children becarae interested. That charm
ing voice ? Yes, one of the sweetest that ever sang. Not
only was she an admirable performer upon the piano, but
when she sang, accompanying herself upon the harp, she
was a very nightingale. Her tender Scotch baUads never
were surpassed upon the stage.
Love, intellectuality, refinement, hospitality, made that
home an abode fit for the most favored of mortals ; and
her care for their welfare made " Mis' Sallie " the ideal,
in the minds of the servants, of what an angel would be
in the world to come. The children ? They were numer
ous as the teeth in a comb. Three of the Seddon boys,
ranging from a year older to two years younger than my
self, were my sworn allies. Morning, noon, and night, we
were together. Of course we all had horses, — everybody

HOW THE "SLAVE-DRIVERS" LIVED 143
had a horse. Often the three Seddon boys rode to school
upon the back of one filly, with a young darkey to fetch
her home. Their route brought them directly past the
Eastwood gate, and many a day in 1860 that blessed filly
took upon her back a fifth rider, as I slipped down from
the gatepost w^ere I had awaited their coming. And
many a head-punching I received from the combined
forces of the Seddons because I tickled that fiUy in the
fiank, and made her kick until she tumbled the entire
load, four white boys and a darkey, into the muddy road,
and then, kicking at us, scampered away, leaving us to
fish our Horaces and Livys and Virgils out of the mud,
and walk the remainder of the way to school.
The Morson chUdren, first cousins of the Seddons, were
also numerous ; and while their residence was at a little
distance from ours, the families were frequently together.
At school, during the week, plans were made for the
afternoons and Saturdays, and we ranged the whole
country-side, shooting, or riding, or visiting.
A favorite amusement was excursions up the canal in
our own boat, drawn by our own team, to a famous fishing-
place at " Maiden's Adventure " dam. Thither boys and
girls repaired together, making quite a boatload, taking
baskets of luncheon and spending the day.
The school-teacher, the Rev. Mr. Dudley, was an effi
cient man, who demanded that his pupils should study
hard, and was not at all squeamish about the proper use
of hickory. Notwithstanding this, he was popular, and
joined in the sports at recess with genuine zest. One of
our favorite games was caUed "Germany," or "Cher-
mony," in which a paddle, a certain number of holes in a
row, and a hard rubber ball were used. Under certain
regulations, each player claimed a hole in the ground, and,
when the ball went into it, was privileged to hit some

144 THE END OF AN ERA
one else with the ball. Mr. Dudley was a large, fleshy
man, and it was noticeable that, while the boys were
always delighted to have him in the game, he was hit
about twice as often as all the boys put together. How
ever much he may have compeUed them to rub themselves
in school, the boot was very much on the other leg in these
little outside pastimes ; so rauch so, that Parson Dudley,
after being " roasted " for a long time, appeared to lose
his enthusiasm for the game.
It was during the recess hour, on a bright May day in
1860, that a boy rode by, returning perhaps from Rich
mond, and gave Mr. Dudley a copy of a newspaper. No
sooner had he disposed himself comfortably to read the
news, leaving us boys to our diversions, than with a loud
exclamation he broke forth, " Ah ! that settles it. I
feared as much. Abe Lincoln is nominated for President.
He will be elected, and that means war."
I, who was now in my fourteenth year, and deeply
interested in political matters, was anxious to know why
Mr. Lincoln's election portended war any more than that
of any one else.
" Well," said Mr. Dudley, perfectly sincere in every
word he spoke, " Mr. Seward was the logical candidate of
the Republican party, entitled to the nomination by supe
rior ability and by long service. He is a man of very
pronounced anti-slavery views, but is a gentleman by birth
and association, and if elected President, would respect
his constitutional obligations and the rights of the South
ern States. Everybody expected him to be the nominee ;
but his course and utterances of late, especially his utter
ances concerning old John Brown, are not radical enough
to suit the Black Republicans. On the other hand, this
man Lincoln has. come to the front, venomous and vindic
tive enough to satisfy the most rabid abolitionist." He

HOW THE "SLAVE-DRIVERS" LIVED 145
then proceeded to draw a picture of Lincoln horrible
enough. He told how he was, in his origin, of that class
of low whites who hate gentlemen because they are gentle
men; how, in personal appearance, he was more like a
gorilla than a human being ; how he possessed the arts and
cunning of the demagogue to a degree sufficient to build
himself up by appealing to the prejudices of his own class
against gentleraen ; and how, in his joint debates with
Douglas, who had completely overmastered him, he had
nevertheless brought himself into notice, and secured the
nomination of his party, by going far beyond other lead
ers in advocacy of radical measures against slavery, and
in abuse of the South.
That settled Abraham Lincoln with me. I was thor
oughly satisfied that no such raan ought to be President ;
but I could not yet conceive it possible that such a mon
ster would be the choice of a majority of the people for
President. Lincoln's nomination did not, however, inter
fere with my happiness or appetite. In fact, I had faith
in the triumph of Mr. Lincoln's opponents.
A few days after this, I accompanied my sister and
brother-in-law to a breakfast at the Stanards'.
In course of conversation at table, the nomination of
Lincoln was discussed. That gave rise to the inquiry, on
the part of our hostess, whether her guests had read the
remarkable sermon recently delivered in the city of New
Orleans by the Rev. Dr. Palmer, an eminent Presbyterian
divine, upon " The Divine Origin of Slavery." As none
of her guests had seen it, and all expressed the desire to
do so, a servant was sent to the library for the newspaper,
and one of the company proceeded to read aloud the sali
ent points of Dr. Palmer's address. Undoubtedly, from his
standpoint, the great minister put the case very strongly.
His arguments were, however, chiefly based upon the

146 THE END OF AN ERA
divine sanction of the patriarchal institutions of the Old
Testament. I was not a profound Biblical scholar, but a
number of very good women had spent a greal deal of
time, during the brief space of my life, hammering into
my head portions of the Old Testament. It so happened
also that during breakfast that morning the Mormon doc
trines of Brigham Young had come up for discussion,
for Brigham was much in evidence then, and everybody,
especially the ladies, had joined in denouncing him as
monstrous. The reading of Dr. Palmer's sermon occupied some
time. It bored me, but I found no opportunity to escape.
At its conclusion, the company agreed that it was an
able and conclusive argument. Mrs. Stanard, who was a
witty woman given to facetious remarks, declared a pur
pose to mail a copy of the sermon to Abe Lincoln. I,
who was inclined to be pert as weU as facetious, proposed
to send another copy to Brigham Young. " For," said
I, " every argument of Dr. Palmer, based on the slavery
of the Old Testament, is equally available for Brigham
Young in support of polygamy ; and I sympathize with
Brigham." It is unnecessary to add that the assembled guests, in
their disgust at my " pertness," dropped the arguraent on
slavery. Soon after this breakfast, I witnessed the first parade
of the Goochland Troop. The John Brown invasion had
given a pronounced impetus to the military spirit of Vir
ginia. In almost every county, new military organizations
had sprung up. As the Goochland folk were rich, owners
of fine horseflesh, and every man of them a horseman
from his childhood, it was natural that they organized a
command of cavalry.
During the winter, the plan was conceived. The first

HOW THE "SLA.VE-DRIVERS" LIVED 147
meeting looking to its consummation was held at February
court. The preliminary drilling began in the early spring.
And now in May, for the first time, the troop assembled
in full uniform for drill and inspection. Julien Harrison,
of Elk Hill was its commandant. Mr. Hobson, my bro
ther-in-law, at whose house I lived, was the first lieutenant.
The company was composed of the very flower of the
aristocracy of the James River valley, and the capital
invested in the arras, uniforms, and the horseflesh of the
Goochland Troop would have equipped a .regiment of
regulars. At their first parade and review, they were the guests
of the raaster of Eastwood. Every man vied with every
other in his mount. There were not ten horses in the
company less than three quarters thoroughbred. It was
indeed a gallant sight, — those spirited youngsters, men,
and beasts. The uniforms of. the privates were fine
enough for major-generals. Their arms they bought
themselves, — the carbines and pistols from Colt, the
sabres from Horstmann. The shabrack of a Goochland
trooper cost more raoney than the whole equipraent of a
Confederate cavalryman three years later. Little did
they realize then that within a year they would be part
of the best regiment in the brigade of the immortal Stuart,
and that they would pass into history as the " Black Horse
Cavalry," — a bugaboo scarcely less terrible to the imagina
tion of their foe than " masked batteries." There was, in
fact, but one company in the Confederacy called " Black
Horse Troop," and that came from Fauquier County ; but
they were counted by thousands in the imagination of the
Union soldiers.
Many years afterwards, in conversation with a Union
veteran, something was said of handsome cavalry. He
remarked that the most vivid picture of a perfect soldier

148 THE END OF AN ERA
retained by his mind was that of a Confederate cavalry
officer naraed Captain Julien Harrison, of the Fourth
Virginia Cavalry, who bore a flag of truce in 1861 into
the Union lines at Manassas.
The thing which raost impressed itself upon me, during
my residence in Goochland in 1860, was the marked dif
ference between slavery upon these extensive plantations
and slavery as it existed in the smaUer establishraents
which I had theretofore known. It could not be truly
said of these people that they were cruel to their slaves,
but it was certainly true that the relations between master
and slave were nothing like so close or so tender as those
with which I had been theretofore familiar. The size of
the plantations and the number of slaves were such that
it was necessary to employ farm managers or overseers,
and to have separate establishments, removed frora the
mansion house, where the overseers resided, surrounded
by the laborers on the plantation.
As a consequence, the master and his family saw little
of this class of servants, and the servants saw and knew
little of the master. There was lacking that intimate
acquaintance and sympathy with each other which ameli
orated the condition of the slaves where the farm was
smaU, the servants few, and no overseer came between
master and servant.
Wealthy men, too, like several of those in our neighbor
hood, had so many slaves that they were compeUed to buy
other plantations on which to employ them. For example,
Mr. Morson owned nearly eight hundred negroes. In
order to sustain them, he purchased large plantations in
Mississippi. A portion of his time was passed there look
ing after his interests, and thither, from time to time, it
was, in the nature of the case, necessary to transfer some
of his Virginia slaves ; for they increased rapidly, and the

HOW THE "SLAVE-DRIVERS" LIVED 149
Virginia plantation could furnish employment and sus
tenance for only a limited number. Such transfers were
made as humanely as possible. Families were removed
together, in order to avoid harassing separations, and the
change bore as lightly as possible upon the blacks. But,
after all, it was an unsympathetic proceeding ; for the
negro race has the strongest of local attachments, and old
Virginia was, and stiU is, the dearest spot of earth to the
native darkey.
The weeping and wailing among those who were ordered
South was pitiful. Although they were going to their
master's plantation, it was in a strange land and under
the government of unknown people, who felt none of the
softening influences of early associations. Above aU, it
was without regard to any consideration of their wishes or
their prejudices, and the expression of either would have
been vain.
The slaves upon our place presented another repulsive
feature of the institution. The master and mistress were
both young persons of pure, elevated Christian lives, in
capable of brutality, and most ambitious to deserve and to
possess the loyal love of their slaves. They could have
had no country establishment without the possession of
slaves ; and, both being members of large families, they
could not hope to acquire by gift a sufficient number of
slaves to carry on their plantation. As a consequence,
they were compelled to buy the essential quota. These
purchases were made by families, as far as possible, but
the aggregate was made up of negroes who came from dif
ferent places, and were strangers to each other. Great cir
cumspection was exercised in the effort to secure the proper
kind of servants, and large prices were paid in order to
secure such. But everybody knows how little reliance is to
be placed in the advance characters given to servants, and

150 THE END OF AN ERA
how often, when strange servants are brought together, un
foreseen incompatibilities of temperament, or new condi
tions, affect them. Thus it was that the new establishment
at " Eastwood," wealthy and luxurious as it seemed,
had its troubles and its trials like all the rest of the world.
The darkeys were jealous of each other. The ones repre
sented as marvels of diligence and obedience turned out
to be lazy and impertinent. And so it went. The most
flagrant instance of this kind was a butler named Tom, a
handsome fellow, quick, intelligent, and represented as a
phenomenal servant. When Tom arrived, he was a joy
and a comfort to master and mistress, and they felt that
he was worth the $2500 they had paid for him. In a
little whUe, Tom appeared, from time to time, in a condi
tion of excitement or irritability or stupor, and his con
duct was exceedingly perplexing. Suspecting liquor as
the cause of his strange behavior, strict watch was kept
upon the wine ceUar and the sideboard, but no liquor was
missed. At last, Tom developed a distinct case of mania
a potu, and then it was discovered that he had been
steadily imbibing from a large demijohn of alcohol to
which he had access. As his distemper developed an in
clination to knock the heads off his fellow servants, male
and female, on the slightest provocation, his presence made
matters very uncomfortable ; and while his first offense
was overlooked and forgiven, under solemn promises of
reforra, he soon relapsed into bad habits, and became so
violent that it was necessary to have him seized and bound
by AHck the gardener and Ephraim the hostler, in order
to prevent murder.
Now, what would our humane and philanthropic friend,
Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, think of a case like this?
And how would the dear old lady have disposed of it ?
This was one of many of the perplexing situations of sla-

HOW THE "SLAVE-DRIVERS" LIVED 151
very. There was nothing to do with Tom but to sell him
with all his infirmities on his head. Of course the aboli
tionist will say it was awfid ; but to have given him away
would have been imposing- upon the friend to whom he
was presented, and to set him free was offering a premium
to drunkenness and faithlessness. Tom shed tears of re
pentance, and the family shed tears of regret and humilia
tion. But as there were young children and women aU
about him, — women and children of his own race as well
as the white race, — and as he was Hable to get drunk
and violent, and to knock the heads off of any or all of
them at any moment, the question recurs on the original
proposition. What was to be done with Tom ?
But enough of these instances. This and many others
only confirmed me in the opinion, planted when I saw the
sale of Martha Ann, and growing steadily thereafter, that
slavery was an accursed business, and that the sooner my
people were relieved of it, the better.
June carae, and with it the end of the school term and
my return to my father's home. I had raade decided ad
vances in knowledge. I had read the first six books of
Virgil ; been drilled in Racine and Moliere and Voltaire ;
finished Davies's Legendre ; and was fairly embarked in
algebra, besides a good grounding in ancient and modern
history and a smattering of natural philosophy.
So I boxed my books, packed my trunk, gathered to
gether my effects, — including my gun, with which I had
become quite proficient, and a coop containing a game
cock and pullets of the choicest James River stock, — and
hied myself homeward.

CHAPTER XI
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM — THE CLOUDBURST
The proverb that a calm precedes a storm was never
better illustrated than in the peaceful days of the sum
mer and autumn of 1860, and the winter of 1860-61.
Our new home opened up a phase of existence entirely
different from any I had theretofore known. Although
it was within five miles of the city of Norfolk, which was
easily reached either by land or by water, RoUeston, iny
father's new plantation, was as secluded a spot as if no
city had been within a hundred miles. It was the ancient
seat of the Moseley family, one of the oldest in the State.
Located upon the eastern branch of the Elizabeth River,
it embraced, besides a broad area of cultivation, a hand
some body of timber of original growth, running from the
water's edge back for a mile or more. The dwelling and
curtilage were near the river, and the cultivated land,
which was on its easternmost side, was bounded by a
large millpond. Across the mouth of the pond a dam
was erected, with floodgates admitting the tide and con
fining it at high water for the use of a gristmill.
Beside the gristmill, the new purchaser erected a saw
mill on the woodland tract for his own use in erecting
new buildings, and for the sale of lumber in the adjacent
city. When I reached the place, a number of mechanics
were remodeling the dwelling, and building new farra-
houses and barns. Every boy who has lived on a farm
knows the joys of the youthful heart at having access to

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 153
a carpenter's bench, and to all the lumber and tools and
nails he wants.
Besides myself, I had as companions and playmates
my brother, a nephew near ray own age, a white boy, —
the son of the railler, — and my own slave, black John.
From rosy morn tiU dewy eve, during aU the vacation of
1860, this precious company was busy with new enter
prises. The adjacent waters swarmed with fish and terra
pin and crabs and oysters and clams, and every variety of
sea food. The fields and forests and marshes abounded
with garae. The Elizabeth River was a beautiful sheet of
water for sailing, and father had provided hiraself with
the stanchest and fastest boats to be obtained.
The milldam and pond were our favorite rallying-point.
There we anchored our craft, and fished and swam and
sailed our miniature boats, and engaged in the many pas
times which raake boyhood so happy a period. To-day,
we were occupied, busy as bees, building hen-houses. To-
raorrow, the all-engrossing subject was a new boat, devised
and constructed by ourselves. Another time, we might be
seen, aU hands, riding the high side of our fastest boat in
a clipping sail to Norfolk, and, again, bending to the oars
like tried seamen, rowing homeward in a calm. To-day
would be devoted to fishing in deep water, to-morrow to
crabbing on the shoals ; another time, to setting weir mats
across the mouths of the little estuaries to catch " fat-
backs " or jumping mullets when the tide went out ; and
another time, the whole company would be busy baiting
and sinking terrapin traps. Sometimes we would drive
away in the farm-carts to Lambert's or Garrison's Fishing
Shores, ten miles away upon the Chesapeake Bay, to
seine-hauling, from which we would return at evening,
our carts loaded down with fish for salting and use during
the winter season. On other days, we made up fishing

154 THE END OF AN ERA
excursions in our sloop, the Know-Nothing, down to
the deep waters of Hampton Roads, for sea trout and
sheepshead. Every day had its new and busy occupation
and delight, and for several months we never put shoes
upon our feet, save when we were called upon to visit the
city. With great straw hats and brown-linen shirts, and
trousers rolled up above our knees, we were almost am
phibians, and were sunburnt as brown as Indians.
It may not have been a period of great intellectual
growth, but it certainly was a time in which our physical
health was highly developed, and the qualities of enter
prise and self-reliance were highly stimulated.
In the month of August, the Great Eastern, the largest
ship then afloat, came to Hampton Roads, which was the
signal for a general holiday, and everybody who was
anybody, far and near, went to visit her. We went
down the harbor with Captain Oliver upon our sloop,
the Know-Nothing, to inspect the English monster. Frora
the city to the Roads where the Great Eastern lay, ten
miles below, the waters of Norfolk harbor were alive with
river-craft, crowding all sails and decked in their best
bunting, firing small cannon and waving salutes. We
had bent the racing-sails of the Know-Nothing for the
occasion, and she showed her heels not only to the vessels
of her o-wn class, but to many far larger than herself. I
was very proud of being one of the company of the sraart-
est craft in Norfolk waters.
The Great Eastern, it will be remembered, was an im
mense ship, of a length and size never since equaled,
unless it be by the new steamer Oceanic, now under con
struction. She was 680 feet in length, with a width of
beam of over 80 feet, and a draft of 27 feet of water.
Her contrast with other ships of that time was, however,
much greater than it would be with the ships of to-day.

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 155
In general outline, she was, of course, very much like
other vessels of her kind. When she first came in view,
I felt disappointed ; for there were no other objects near
her with which to contrast her. But after a large steamer
of the Old Dominion line passed the Know-Nothing on the
way down the harbor, looming high above us, and rocking
us in her wake until our washboards were almost sub
merged, and then passed on towards the Great Eastern,
where, by the side of the latter, she appeared to be no
larger than a tug, I began to realize the size of the mag
nificent newcomer. When the Know-Nothing sailed up
and around the visitor, her topmast not five feet above
the rail of the Great Eastern, the matter grew plainer ;
and when our party boarded the Great Eastern and
traversed the great spaces within, I found it difficult to
realize that she was the work of men, or that the colossal
whole moved and was directed in every motion by the
control of one huraan mind.
While the ship proved a failure, the ideas first advanced
in her were developed and applied to other ventures, in
such a manner that she produced a revolution in the con
struction of ships for merchant marine service, little less
marked than that in naval warfare resulting from the
conflict in Hampton Roads two years later.
The visit of the Prince of Wales to America occurred
about the same tirae as the arrival of the Great Eastern.
I was to remain at home during the next school year.
One of our neighbors, with a large family, had secured
the services of a young university graduate as private
tutor, and I was to attend his school, about two miles dis
tant. Consequently, early in September, I went to Gooch
land to bring back some sehoolbooks and other belong
ings. It was on this visit that I happened to be in
Richmond at the time of the visit of the Prince of Wales,

156 THE END OF AN ERA
and was in St. Paul's Church upon the Sunday when the
prince attended divine worship there.
During our residence in Richmond, many eminent Eng
lishmen had visited the city from time to time, and a
mere English lord was no very great sight ; but my inter
est was most decided in a British heir-apparent not much
older than myself.
The young fellow was a typical Anglo-Saxon. His
tawny hair, fair complexion, and blue eyes were exactly
what one f arailiar with the type would have expected to
see. At that time, he was rather slight in build, and did
not display the best of physical development. His shoul
ders were drooping, and his hips rather broad ; his move
ments were awkward, and his manner altogether boyish.
I had no opportunity to converse with him, for, being a
small boy, I secured no introduction ; but I saw him sev
eral tiraes, and wondered at the deference shown to him
by the distinguished-looking old gentleraen who were his
traveling companions, as well as by several of the leading
citizens, friends of my father, by whom the prince was
entertained. One who saw him in 1860 would find it difficult to
discover in the stout, bald, elderly, well-fed man of tbe
world, still known as the Prince of Wales, whora I saw
in London several years ago, any trace of the awkward
boy who visited Richmond in 1860.
Never had boy more glorious liberty or greater vari
ety of sport, and never did reckless youth pursue its bent
more indifferent to the graver affairs going on about it.
One day in October, I drove into Norfolk, and, seeing a
great crowd assembled, paused and heard part of a speech
by Stephen A. Douglas. I was greatly impressed by his
tremendous voice, every tone of which reached rae more
than a block away, and I loudly applauded his Union sen-

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 167
timents. But having obtained the supply of powder and
shot I needed, I soon forgot Douglas. Not long after
wards, I heard, without its making a great impression
upon rae, that on one of those gorgeous Noveraber days
Douglas had been defeated for President, and Abraham
Lincoln had been elected President of the United States.
More than once I heard, without believing it, that there
was serious and irarainent danger of civil war as a re
sult. " Let it come," was my only reflection ; " who 's
afraid ? "
Before the close of the year 1860, many men frora
Southern States rode out to RoUeston from Norfolk to
visit and confer with father about the course Virginia
would pursue in view of that of South Carolina and
other States. Some of them remained to meals, and
sorae stayed overnight, and so I heard their conversa
tions. Sorae of thera had new and strange flags pinned
upon their lapels, or little palmetto rosettes, which they
gave me. When I visited the city, I heard new tunes
like " Dixie " and " The Bonnie Blue Flag ; " and men
said that Virginia would secede with other Southern
States. But father still declared that he was opposed to
secession, and believed that, if any fight was necessary,
the South should " fight in the Union." I did not know
what it all meant, and did not believe it could result in
actual war, and in fact had become so engrossed in the
pleasures of life at RoUeston that I gave little attention
to aught else but the pursuit of ray boyish diversions.
I was a little over fourteen years of age when the civil
war began. No pair of eyes and ears in all America
were more alert than mine. Every event, as it wound off
the reel of time, excited ray most intense interest, and
made its indelible impression.
As State after State passed ordinances of secession, the

158 THE END OF AN ERA
disunion sentiment gained ground in Virginia. Father
was hotly opposed to secession, but he always coupled
that declaration with the further one that he was equaUy
opposed to Northern coercion.
The Virginia legislature called a convention to consider
what course the State should take in the impending crisis.
The election for delegate from our county. Princess Anne,
was exciting, and the result was in great doubt. Father
was a candidate, opposed by Edgar Burroughs, Esq., a
popular and outspoken Union man. Mr. Burroughs was
a native of the county, had a large family connection, and
was supported by a strong following, who wanted neither
secession nor fighting. It required all the prestige of my
father's name, and a careful declaration of his modified
views upon secession, to elect him, and he was returned
by a small majority.
Poor Burroughs, like many another who resisted seces
sion to the last, went into the Confederate service, and
sacrificed his life for his State.
The convention remained in session a long time before
it took decisive action. When it assembled, it was com
posed of a safe majority of Union men, and a minority of
secessionists. My father held unique views, and had a
very small foUowing. Opposing secession, he at the same
time advocated preparations by the State for defense
against what he considered the threatened aggression of
the federal government. In his own book, " Seven De
cades of the Union," he has fully set forth what he meant
when he advocated "fighting in the Union." It is suffi
cient to say that, at the time, his views were regarded as
impracticable, and that he failed to impress them upon
the body, or to gain any considerable foUowing.
The issue seemed likely to be decided in favor of the
Union men, until the occurrence of two events which pre-

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 159
cipitated secession. The first of these was the firing upon
Fort Sumter. The second was the caU issued by Presi
dent Lincoln upon the States, Virginia included, for troops
to suppress the rebeUion.
It has been said that the Southern leaders fired upon
Fort Sumter in order to force these issues, weU knowing
that Virginia could not be relied upon to withdraw from
the Union in any other way. Whether this be so or not,
this result was accomplished.
The Virginians realized that they had come to the part
ing of the roads. The question presented was no longer.
Shall we fight? War was flagrant. The only question
to be decided was. On which side shall we fight ?
Virginia was reduced to the alternative of furnishing
her quota of troops to the Union, or of refusing to do
so, which was the equivalent of secession. It was a hard
situation, made doubly hard by the fact that, even at the
moraent when these things happened, a peace conference,
presided over by her venerable ex-President John Tyler,
was in session at Washington, vainly endeavoring to bring
about a bloodless solution of the trouble.
Now, however, no time was to be lost in further negotia
tions. Indecision in such a crisis would have been little
less than cowardice.
One by one, men who had steadily voted with the Union
men transferred their support to the secessionists. Know
ing that war was inevitable, they decided to fight for and
with their friends. The ordinance of secession was passed
three days after Mr. Lincoln's call for troops ; and while
the schedule provided for its indorsement by the people,
the march of events was so rapid that popular indorse
ment was not obtained until long after the State had
taken an unmistakable attitude in the conflict.
While these things were progressing, I visited Norfolk

160 THE END OF AN ERA
daily to ascertain, and keep the family informed concern
ing, the progress of public affairs.
From the tirae Surater was fired upon, and Mr. Lin
coln's proclamation was raade public, business was almost
entirely suspended. The people assembled upon the
streets, discussing the situation, breathlessly awaiting the
decision of the convention at Richmond, and listening
to popular harangues. The local military, anticipating
the result, asserabled, and paraded the streets with bands
and Southern flags. When the telegraph flashed the an
nouncement that the secession ordinance had been passed,
it was greeted with great cheering, the firing of guns, and
every demonstration of excited enthusiasm.
It is impossible to describe the feelings with which I
saw the stars and stripes hauled down from the custom
house, and the Virginia state flag run up in their place.
I had become rampant for war, but never until then had
I fully realized that this step involved making the old
flag under which I was born in Brazil, and which, until
now, had typified to me everything of national patriotism
and national glory on land and sea, henceforth the flag of
an eneray.
It was a beautiful spring morning. Across the harbor
at the Gosport Navy Yard, the United States flag still
floated from the garrison flagstaff, and from the ships,
— the Pennsylvania, the Cumberland, the Merrimac, the
Germantown, the Raritan, and others whose naraes were
famous in our naval annals. Father had been chairman
of the Naval Coramittee of the House of Representatives
for many years, and had become, while minister to Brazil,
personally acquainted with nearly all the prominent naval
officers. Upon those ships, lying there, were many men
who, but a short time before, were welcome visitors at our
home. It was almost incredible that they were now, and

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 161
were to be henceforth, enemies, or that they might at any
time open fire upon the town which they had originally
come to protect. A certain Confederate general was ridi
culed for saying, after the war ended, that he had never
seen the old flag, even in the battle-front, without tears
in his eyes. That was doubtless a figure of speech. It
was rather hyperbolical and beyond any feeling I had ;
but I can understand the emotion of every man who, hav
ing loved and honored the stars and stripes, could not
bring himself, even while the war was going on, to hate
them, or shut out from his remembrance what they had
been to him.
The day after the State seceded, General Taliaferro, a
militia general, arrived at Norfolk and assumed comraand.
Troops from the South began to arrive. Among them I
recaU particularly the Third Alabama Regiment, one of
the finest bodies of military I ever saw. It numbered
full one thousand men, the best representatives of Mont
gomery, Selma, Mobile, and other places in Alabama. It
was uniformed like the New York Seventh Regiment, and
commanded by Colonel Lomax, a superb soldier. Those
wealthy young fellows of the Third Alabama brought with
them not less than one hundred servants, and their impedi
ments were more than was carried by a division in Lee's
army three years later.
All attention was concentrated now upon the navy yards
and ships in possession of the United States. The advan
tage of securing the latter was fully understood. No less
than six or seven vessels were sunk in the channel below
the city, to prevent the ships frora passing out. A demand
for the evacuation of the navy yard and the surrender of
the ships was, it was understood, made by General Talia^
ferro upon Commodore Paulding. Friday the 19th and
Saturday the 20th were consumed in negotiations. Satur-

162 THE END OF AN ERA
day, a party of Union officers landed at the Roanoke dock
with a flag of truce, and proceeded under escort to Gen
eral Taliaferro's headquarters at the Atlantic Hotel. A
long conference ensued, and then they returned to their
ships. The fevered populace could gain no information
concerning the interview or its probable results.
MeanwhUe, several companies of local military pro
ceeded to old Fort Norfolk, which was on our side of the
river just below the town, and removed a large quantity
of amraunition stored there, unprotected by the Union
troops. That ammunition was largely used in the first
battle of Manassas, which occurred three months later.
It was nearly dark, Saturday, April 20, when, despair
ing of getting further information, I secured my horse
and vehicle, bought aU the thriUing newspaper buUetins I
could lay hands upon, and, tearing myself away from the
excitement of the town, started for home. The erstwhile
silent woods skirting the homeward road were now trans
formed into camps. Places whose deep silence at night,
in time of peace, had been broken only by the uncanny
caU of the whippoorwill, or the hooting of owls, were
lighted up with camp-fires, and resounded with the joyous
laughter of the soldiers, the calls of sentinels, the stroke
of the axe, or the singing of the cooks and servants.
Verily, this thing called war was a fascinating sport.
My heart sickened at the thought that it would probably
all be over before I was old enough to be a participant in
its glorious exhilaration.
At home, the family, impatient at my tardy return, de
voured every item of news in the papers, and hung breath
less upon every report of what was going forward in the
city. Thoroughly fagged out by excitement, I went early
to bed, wondering " What next ? " Things happened so
fast in those days that, as soon as one thing occurred, we

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 163
began to expect something else, and in this case we
were not disappointed. Some time after midnight, the
household was aroused by a series of explosions in the
direction of Norfolk, and on going out, we beheld a dense
canopy of smoke hanging over the city, illuminated by
fires, and flashing almost momentarily with the light of
new explosions. It was easy to conjecture the meaning
of this. The United States forces had abandoned and
blown up the Gosport Navy Yard. I was keen to return
at once to the city, but concluded to remain until day
light. The next morning was Sunday, and bright and early I
accompanied a party of our workmen in our sloop to the
city. What a sight of devastation greeted us ! The Penn
sylvania and the Merrimac and other ships had been
burned to the water's edge. Some of their guns had
been loaded, and exploded as the heat of the fire reached
them, but fortunately the ships had listed heavily before
the discharge, and the shots had gone into the water or
high over the town. The ship sheds were aU destroyed.
A futile effort had been made to blow up the dry dock.
The barracks and officers' quarters and the machine shops
had all been fired. Some of these fires had been extin
guished, while others were still burning. The long rows
of guns in the navy yard, fifteen hundred in all, had in
many instances been spiked, or disabled by breaking their
trunions with sledge-hammers. Old sails and clothing
and masses of papers strewed the parade ; and, altogether,
it was marvelous to behold what destruction and disorder
had been wrought -within the space of a few hours where
all had been construction and perfect order for many
years. As for the late occupants, the following were the facts :
About nine o'clock Saturday night, the Pawnee had come

164 THE END OF AN ERA
up from Fortress Monroe, easily passing the obstructions.
She doubtless brought the orders what to do. After
knocking the navy yard into smithereens, and transferring
all the valuable papers and the sailors to the Pawnee and
Cumberland, and burning the Pennsylvania, Merrimac,
and other ships, the Pawnee and Cumberland steamed
down the harbor to Fortress Monroe. On their down
ward passage, the sailors manned the yardarms, and
cheered the Union flag, as it was lit up by the blaze of
the burning ships. The ease with which these vessels had
passed the obstructions and escaped was a sore disap
pointment to the Confederates.^
We spent the greater portion of the day wandering
about through the abandoned navy yard, and inspecting
the first real devastation of war which we had yet beheld.
Little did we realize that it was possible to rebuild the
dry dock, or that in it, out of the charred remains of the
Merrimac, would be constructed a ship which was destined
to revolutionize naval warfare. Still less did we realize
that this scene of destruction was, as contrasted with what
we were yet to witness, as insignificant as the burning
of a country smoke house beside the conflagration of
Moscow. Immediately after the evacuation of Norfolk by the
Union forces, the fortification of the harbor began. Bat
teries were erected at Craney Island, Lambert's Point,
Sewell's Point, and elsewhere. Obstructions were placed
in the harbor to prevent the return of Union vessels.
Long lines of intrenchments were erected in rear of the
city, extending from the eastern branch of the Elizabeth
River to Tanner's Creek. The military forces were dis
tributed along what was known as the intrenched camp,
^ For full and graphic description of this, see Rebellion Records,
vol. i. Doe. p. 119.

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 166
and the fashionable amusement of the time was to visit
the various encampments, and witness the drills and
parades. Our house, but a mile or two beyond the lines, was
constantly filled with visitors, and was gay beyond all
precedent. Almost immediately after the passage of the secession
ordinance, father received a commission as brigadier-gen
eral in the Confederate service, with directions to repair to
West Virginia, recruit and organize a brigade, and pro
tect that section of the State against any hostile advance.
His preparations for departure were immediately begun ;
and I was desolate at learning that my brother Richard,
now seventeen, was recalled from William and Mary Col
lege to accompany him as aid-de-camp.
Just before their departure, the family was roused late
one night by a loud knocking upon the door, and the ap
pearance of my brother Henry and two cousins who lived
upon the eastern shore peninsula. My brother was an
Episcopal minister, and had been up to this time in charge
of a church in West Philadelphia. He was exceedingly
popular with his congregation, and no man owed parish
ioners more for love and kindness than he did. Hoping
against hope, he had clung to his charge, thinking that
possibly something might happen to avert hostilities.
Meanwhile, the feeling there bad become intense.
One day, having occasion to visit the barber-shop of the
Girard House, the barber by some means discovered who
he was, and, seeking from him some assurances of loyalty
to the Union which he could not conscientiously give, the
barber threw down his razor, and refused to finish shav
ing a rebel. Leaving the place, as a crowd was assera
bling, he hurried homeward, to find that his residence had
been protected from a mob through the prudent exhibi-

166 THE END OF AN ERA
tion of a Union flag by a smaU boy whom he employed :,
and, under advice of friends, he left the city forthwith,
and journeyed homeward via Wilmington, Del., down
the eastern shore peninsula, to the home of two young
cousins in Accomac. They joined him, and the three
crossed the Chesapeake Bay in a small boat from Cape
Charles, and reached our home as described.
My brother brought us the first tidings we had for a
long time from our relatives in Philadelphia, and from
his description they had become as intense partisans of
the Union side as were we of the South. Poor feUow !
he took the situation very much to heart. While loyal
to kith and kin, he, even at that early day, declared that
we did not know the power, the resources, or the numbers
of our adversaries, and that the struggle of the South for
independence was hopeless folly. We were all elated,
and felt no doubts whatever. We were disposed to regard
hira as controlled in his feelings by his deep aversion to
parting with a noble and devoted congregation.
A few days later, ray eldest sister, wife of Dr. A. Y. P.
Garnett, of Washington, D. C, arrived at our horae with
her family of children. They had abandoned their home,
and reached Richmond on one of the last trains which
came through. When they joined us at RoUeston, our
family was a very large one. The teacher of my school
volunteered, and the school closed. My father and
young brother Richard departed for the war in West
Virginia. My oldest brother Jennings was about this time elected
captain of the Richmond Light Infantry Blues, a volun
teer organization founded in 1793. His company joined
my father's forces, and became A Company, Forty-sixth
Virginia Regiment, of Wise's brigade.
Bravely and gayly they all saUied forth to rendez-

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 167
vous at the famous White Sulphur Springs. Thence,
after organizing, they proceeded to Charleston Kanawha.
Every report from our own was watched for with intense
eagerness, of course, but the things occurring near at
hand were of the most exciting character.
After the evacuation of Norfolk by the Union forces,
the souud of cannon was almost hourly in our ears. In a
few days, Craney Island, Sewell's Point, Lambert's Point,
Pig Point, and other places comraanding the entrance of
the Elizabeth and Nansemond rivers, were fully fortified
by the Confederates.
At these points, our own troops were constantly exer
cised in target practice ; and the Union forces at Fortress
Monroe and the Rip-Raps (then called Fort Calhoun,
now Fort Wool), and the Union ships in Hampton Roads
and the Chesapeake Bay, were engaged in similar drills.
At times, the reports, all of which we could hear, were
so loud and so frequent that we believed an engagement
was in progress.
Confederate cavalry patrolled the beach of the Chesa
peake to guard against the landing of the enemy for an
attack upon Norfolk in rear. Major Edgar Burroughs,
my father's competitor for delegate to the Secession Con
vention, was in command of a squadron of this cavalry,
encamped near Lynnhaven Bay, to protect the seine-
haulers there who supplied Norfolk and the troops with
fish. The camp was in a grove of live-oaks, behind the sand
dunes on the beach, but must have been visible with
glasses to those on the ships, and was easily in reach of
the guns of the Union cruisers constantly moving back
and forth along the coast between Fortress Monroe and
Cape Henry. Later in the war, that camp would have
been instantly bombarded ; but at this early stage, the

168 THE END OF AN ERA
combatants were not altogether prepared to kiU each
other on sight.
The possibility of such an attack was, nevertheless, suf
ficient to make the place very attractive; and many a
day, going down to the shore under pretext of securing
fish from the seines, I remained in the cavalry camp aU
day, often watching the passing Union vessels through
field-glasses, which made everything and everybody upon
them plainly visible.
Then came the insignificant affair at Big Bethel. Ex
aggerated accounts of it frenzied us with joy. "The
Happy Land of Canaan " was once more utilized for ver
sification, and every little chap of my acquaintance went
about singing : —
" It was on the 10th of June that the Yankees came. to Bethel,
They thought they would give us a trainin',
But we gave 'em such a beatin'
That they never stopped retreatin'
TUl they landed in the Happy Land of Canaan."
My poor little mare Pocahontas paid heavily for aU
this war fervor. Not content with banging away half the
day with the rifles at targets erected on land and water, I
was ambitious also to become a cavalryman and a lancer.
We had tournament every day ; that is, riding at a run,
trying to carry off suspended rings with a long pole.
Then we would caparison ourselves with sabres and dash
at dummy heads. In these exercises the riders changed ;
but the horse was the same, and no doubt Pocahontas felt
deep regret at the condition of a,ffairs which gave her such
constant and violent exercise.
Then came the battle of Manassas. Until then, I had
never conceived the intensity of feeling, the exaltation of
exultation, to which men are aroused by the first deep
draught of blood and victory. Fierceness, as we know it

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 169
in peace times, is, contrasted with huraan war-passion, as
the sweet south wind beside the desert simoom. Around
the telegraph offices in Norfolk, great throngs of citizens
and soldiers stood, roused to the highest pitch of excite
ment, as bulletin after bulletin was read aloud announ
cing a great Confederate triuraph.
Men whose names had never been heard before leaped
at one bound into the front rank of the world's heroes,
in the minds of that delirious audience. Beauregard, Joe
Johnston, Stonewall Jackson, Bee, and Bartow were the
names on every tongue. The magnitude of the engage
ment was represented as equal to the greatest of ancient
or modern battles. The throngs gloated in the stories of
unprecedented carnage. One telegram announced a field
so covered with the dead bodies of gayly dressed Union
Zouaves that it resembled a French poppy farm. The
conduct of the Southern troops was represented as sur
passingly brave and chivalric, while that of " the Yan
kees " was referred to as correspondingly base and cow
ardly. The boast that one Southerner could whip ten
Yankees seemed fuUy verified. The prediction foUowed
that within a month the Southern array would be encamped
about New York, and that it would dictate terms of peace
within sixty days.
It was many a year before I learned the historical fact
that the little battle of Manassas was one of the oddest
episodes in military history, in that it was fought at right
angles to the line of battle selected by both commanders,
and was virtually won by the Union forces when they be-
became panic-stricken and fled. It is almost incredible
now, remembering how it was represented at the tirae,
that only 750 men were killed in both armies, and less
than 2500 were wounded.^
^ Official war records : Union, killed, 481 ; wounded, 1011 ; captured,
1460. Confederate, killed, 269 ; wounded, 1483 ; captured, none.

170 THE END OF AN ERA
The war had begun suecessfuUy enough to the Confed
erates to fan and inflame into the most exaggerated pro
portions the- vanity of a boy concerning Southern valor.
As the summer advanced, no other startling battles
occurred. Even at that early day. General Lee was the man to
whora the Virginians looked with more confidence and
more hope than towards any other Southern leader. His
preeminence had been somewhat eclipsed by the brilliant
success of Beauregard and Johnston at Manassas ; but
great things were expected of him in his campaign in
West Virginia against McCleUan. Lee's western cam
paign proved, as we all know, a failure. The mountain
ous character of the country was such as to preclude suc
cessful military operations.
My father, comraanding to the south of General Lee,
was forced, by the situation of the armies to the north of
him, to retire from the Kanawha valley. Before doing so,
he had made a successful foray upon the enemy at Ripley.
The Blues, and some other troops under command of my
brother, had surprised the enemy and captured a few men.
It was a very insignificant affair, but we exaggerated it
into a deed of great valor and importance. The Confed
erate forces retreated to the lines of the Gauley, Floyd
won a handsome -victory over the enemy at Carinfax
Ferry, and my father's command took a strong position
on SeweU's Mountain, awaiting attack and confident of
victory. Shortly after this, Floyd retreated with his command to
a place called Meadow Bluff. He ranked my father, and
ordered him to withdraw his forces to that place. This
my father flatly refused to do, and his insubordination
led to an angry controversy, necessitating the presence of
General Lee. Upon General Lee's arrival, he fully sus-

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 171
tained the military views of General Wise ; but it was
evident that two civilians like Wise aud Floyd could
not cooperate in harmony, and both were ordered else
where. The exposures and excitements of the Virginia cam
paign resulted in a protracted iUness of my father, and for
weeks he lay at the point of death in Richmond. While
he was thus prostrated, campaigning in West Virginia
petered out, and both sides. Union and Confederate, real
ized that the fighting must be done elsewhere, and the
troops were withdrawn. McClellan becarae commander
of the Army of the Potomac.
General Lee was ordered to Charleston to superin
tend the fortifications there, followed by the sneer of the
cynical but brilliant editor of the " Examiner," John
M. Daniel, that it was hoped that he would do better
with the spade than he had done with the sword. Floyd
dropped out of public view and died soon afterwards, and
my father's brigade was ordered to Richmond to reorgan
ize and await a new assignment.
I shall never forget the impressions made by that bri
gade when it returned from the West Virginia campaign
in December of 1861. They were the first troops I had
seen return from active campaigning. During the very
rainy season in the mountains, all the gilt and newness
of their uniforms had disappeared. The hair and beards
of the men had grown long, and added to their dirty ap
pearance. A famous charger, named " Legion," had been
presented to my father at Staunton as he went out in the
spring, and my brother had taken with him an exquisite
chestnut thoroughbred filly. Exposure in bad weather
and bad feed had baked their coats and filled them with
mange, and had made these two, and all their compan
ions, look like so many bags of bones. When, spiritless.

172 THE END OP AN ERA
dejected, and half starved, they were led from the box-cars
in which they arrived, I could not believe they were the
same horses I had known.
Altogether, a decided reaction had taken place since
the wonderfiU battle of Manassas. It had not been fol
lowed up by the extermination of "the Yankees," as I
expected it would be.
Although but two hundred and sixty-nine Confeder
ate soldiers had been killed at Manassas, many of them
were our friends. But the deaths in battle were as no
thing compared with other deaths. We were beginning
to dread measles and mumps and typhoid fever and dys
entery in the camps. We were learning the ghastly truth
that, for every man who dies in actual battle, a dozen pass
away ingloriously by disease.
The skeleton had not yet clutched any of our family ;
but, my ! how many of our friends were already in mourn
ing ! And the war seemed no nearer to its end than
when it began.
Six months before that, the town would have turned out
to see the brigade pass through. To-day, under the com
mand of the senior colonel, it marched through the city
quietly enough, and went into camp on the outskirts, with
out attracting great attention.
When father's health was partially restored, he returned
to our home near Norfolk to complete his recuperation.
One day we visited the Gosport Navy Yard, and saw
them building a great iron monster upon the original
framework of the Merrimac. My father felt great pride
and interest in this, for he it was who, before he had
departed for West Virginia, sent General Lee a descrip
tion and model of a marine catapult, designed years before
by Captain Williamson ; and he always insisted that

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 173
this was the first suggestion for the construction of the
boat. It was a very happy period, that time in the autumn
of 1861, when my father and brother were at home with
us. I was no longer anxious to see them in the field. I
had heard too much of the exposures and dangers and
deprivations of camp life. But in time the orders carae.
My father was assigned to the comraand of Roanoke
Island. The brigade came down from Richraond. It
was mightUy spruced up and benefited by its sojourn in
Richmond, and its soldierly appearance made a good im
pression as it passed through Norfolk.
At the head of his command in the 46th, my darling
brother Jennings marched. When he saw me, he came
out and patted and kissed me, and asked about every
thing at home. Before we parted, be sure he pressed into
my hand a crisp new Confederate bill, for he and I were
" partners." The brigade was embarked on barges to pass down
through the Albemarle Canal to Roanoke Island ; and
the last I saw of them was as they floated away, towed by
the tugs, singing " The Bonnie Blue Flag."
The thing which made me feel very proud was the
news told me by quite a number of the officers that,
in the reorganization near at hand, my brother was to
be the colonel of the 46th. I asked him about it. He
laughed and said it was all nonsense, and refused to
discuss the subject. But I knew it was true, for every
body in the regiment turned towards him lovingly as the
best and bravest and simplest and purest man among
them. I was lonesome enough January 3, 1862, when father
and his staff rode off from RoUeston to join the brigade

174 THE END OF AN ERA
at its new station. They journeyed by land along the
coast to Nag's Head, on the outer coast of North Caro
lina, whence they were to cross by ferry to Roanoke
Island. I felt a deep foreboding that trouble was in store for
us from this new venture.

CHAPTER XII
THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY
There are certain naraes whose mere mention produces
feelings of horror, or pain, or sadness from association.
To me, that of Roanoke Island is one of these.
The island commanded the passage by water through
Hatteras Inlet and Pimlico Sound to Albemarle and
Currituck sounds. It was a most important strategic point,
for a force of Union troops passing it had at their mercy
several towns upon the North Carolina coast, could cut
off the supplies and railroad and canal communications
of Norfolk, and were in position to attack that city in
rear. About January 1, 1862, my father was assigned to
the command and defense of Roanoke Island. Major-
General Huger was the commander of the department
embracing that position.
General Huger was one of those old West Point incompe
tents with whom the Confederacy was burdened. He was
both by birth and personally a gentleman, and no doubt
a brave man ; but the only reason on earth for his being
a major-general in command of an important department
was that he was a graduate of West Point. The Con
federacy felt this influence much more than the United
States. Mr. Davis, our President, was a West Point
graduate, as was everybody else connected with our mili
tary organization. General Bragg, his favorite military
counselor, was the martinet of the old army ; and Generals
Hardee and Cooper, the leading advisers at headquarters,

176 THE END OF AN ERA
and Generals Lee and Johnston, the commanders in the
field, were all West Point graduates.
I am not belittling the great advantages secured to the
Confederacy by service of a number of very superior West
Point officers, who joined their fortunes with hers ; but
-with them came also a very inefficient and inferior lot,
unfit for the high commands to which they were assigned,
— men who stood in the way of better officers, and who
were appointed and retained merely through favoritism.
To this latter class belonged Major-General Benjamin
Huger, the officer in command of Norfolk.
The Secretary of War at the time was Judah P. Ben
jamin, in many respects the most remarkable person in
the Confederate States. The Confederate leaders were,
as a rule, men of deep feelings and convictions, or men
of intense or passionate natures. Not so with Benjamin :
he had more brains and less heart than any other civic
leader in the South. He was an English Jew, and a
lawyer of the first rank. He entered upon employment as
attorney for a client. For that client he worked with
surprising acumen, with great learning, with boundless
capacity for endurance, with unquestioned loyalty, and
absolute fidelity. If his client was in any case hanged, it
was only after Benjamin had done all in his power for him ;
but after Benjamin had exhausted the resources of defense,
and come to the end of the business for which he was re
tained, he possessed the power of completely dismissing his
client's affairs frora his mind. Likely as not, he would
be having a bottle of Madeira and a cigar at his club
at the moraent the hanging was taking place. His nature
was such that he had no sentimental attachments, and
seldom troubled himself about the troubles of others. His
convictions were clear, vigorous, and strongly urged ; but
they were never passionate, or clouded by affection or

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 177
hate ; he was never harassed by reminiscences. When
a case was lost, he did not bemoan it ; he found another.
He played his part in the Confederacy as if he held a
hand in a game of whist ; a skilled professional, he lost
no trick that could be saved, and did everything possible
to win for himself and his partner. When he lost, he
indulged in no repinings ; he tore up the old pack, lighted
a fresh cigar, moved to another table, called for a fresh
pack, took a new partner, and played another game. His
last garae proved to be much more successful than his
Confederate venture, for he moved to England, and
becarae justly eminent at the English bar. The Confed
eracy and its collapse were no more to Judah P. Benja
min than a last year's bird's-nest.
When my father was assigned to the command of
Roanoke Island, it was well known at the war depart
ment that General McClellan was fitting out an expedi
tion to attack and capture the position.
The disastrous termination of the operations of 1861
in the mountains of West Virginia had not enhanced my
father's railitary reputation, or that of any other general
who was in the mountains. On the Union side, Mc
Clellan had suffered, and even the prestige of Lee had
been damaged, in those impossible campaigns, so that he
had been assigned to the fortifications of Charleston,
followed by the jeering taunts of John M. Daniel, the
satirical editor of the " Richmond Examiner."
But while my father lacked the advantages of a railitary
education, he had a remarkably correct apprehension of
topography, and was quick to see the strategic value of
positions. As soon as he visited Roanoke Island, he
grasped its importance, and saw that it was not only
practicaUy defenseless, but unsupplied with any adequate
means of erecting fortifications. He hurried back to the

178 THE END OF AN ERA
headquarters of General Huger at Norfolk, and doubtless
harassed that easy-going and high-living soldier with his
importunities. Failing to obtain any assistance from
General Huger, he repaired to Richmond, and endeavored
to impress upon the Secretary of War the necessity for
prompt action. Mr. Benjamin was an attorney, and not
a soldier. He looked for instruction to his client, who
in this case was General Huger. He doubtless thought
that the West Pointer knew much more of such matters
than the civilian, and regarded it as little less than insub
ordination for a brigadier-general to seek the depart
ment direct. Then, too, Mr. Benjamin was an easy-
spoken, cool, suave Jew, quiet and diplomatic in speech,
never excited. It disturbed his nerves to have General
Wise in his department, — ardent, urgent, pressing, declar
ing that past neglect had been criminal and present delay
was suicidal, and even guilty occasionally of some indignant
swearing at the galling indifference shown to the urgent
peril of the situation. The upshot of all this was a per
emptory order from the war department to General Wise
to return forthwith to Roanoke Island, and to do the best
he could with what he had in hand.
After the inevitable disaster, the Confederate Congress
declared that General Wise had done everything in his
power, and that the blame for defeat lay entirely at the
door of General Huger and the Secretary of War ; but
that never repaired the wreck, or gave us back our dead. ^
^ The report of the investigating committee. Confederate House of
Eepresentatives (Series I. vol. i. p. 190) : —
" The correspondence on file of General Wise with the Secretary of
War, General Huger, his superior officer, the governor of North Caro
lina, and others, proves that he was fully alive to the importance of
Roanoke Island, and has devoted his whole time and energies and means
to the defense of that position, and that he is in no way responsible for
the unfortunate disaster which befell our forces upon the island on Febru
ary 7 and 8.

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 179
Our home was on the route between Norfolk and
Roanoke Island. My father's haggard, perplexed appear
ance, as he passed back and forth on these fruitless trips,
revealed only too plainly his knowledge that he had
been placed in a death-trap. Indeed, we all knew, as
well before as afterwards, what would be the result.
It was on the 8th of February, 1862 ; a cold, bluster
ing northeast storm had prevailed for several days ; the
leaden skies hung low ; the rain, blown in sheets by the
gusts, swept against the windows; all farm work had
been suspended ; the tides were driven in high upon the
marshes ; and the only tirae I left the house during the
day was in an oiled sou'wester and gum boots, to look
after the feeding of the cattle and the sheep, huddled in
their sheds of myrtle-boughs, and to see that the stock
was cared for in the evening. I was now the head of the
plantation. A gloomy dusk was closing in; the cold
"But the committee cannot say the same in reference to the efforts of
the Secretary of War and the commanding officer at Norfolk, General
Huger. It is apparent that the island of Roanoke is important for the
defense of Norfolk, and that General Huger had under his command at
that point upward of 15,000 men, a large supply of armament and ammu
nition, and could have thrown in a few hours a large reinforcement upon
Roanoke Island, and that himself and the Secretary of War had timely
notice of the entire inadequacy of the defenses, the want of men and
munitions of war, aud the threatening attitude of the enemy ; but General
Huger and the Secretary of War paid no practical attention to these
urgent appeals of General Wise, sent forward none of his important
requisitions, and permitted General Wise and his inconsiderable force to
remain to meet at least 15,000 men, well armed and equipped. If tlie
Secretary of War and the commanding general at Norfolk had not the
means to reinforce General Wise, why was he not ordered to abandon his
position and save his command ?
"But, on the contrary, he was required to remain and sacrifice his
command, with no means, in his insulated position, to raake his escape in
case of defeat. . . . Whatever of blame and responsibility is justly
attributable to any one for the defeat should attach to Major-General B.
Huger and the late Secretary of War, J. P. Benjamin. "

180 THE END OF AN ERA
winds swept so keenly that they fretted the shaUow pud
dles collected in the yard.
With eraptied feed-basket on my arm, I was returning
to the house, when I saw a horseman slowly approaching
by the farm road. He was so muffled as to be unrecog
nizable, and even when he reached the yard gate, I did
not recognize the jaded beast that bore hira as our pretty
little sorrel filly. It was my brother Richard, my father's
aid-de-camp, who for forty-eight hours had been riding
alone along the cheerless beach of the Atlantic to bring
the announcement to General Huger that the armada of
Burnside, consisting of about sixty vessels, had entered
Hatteras Inlet, passed up Pimlico Sound, and was in
sight of Roanoke Island when he left with his dispatches.
These he had delivered to the general at Norfolk, who,
as he reported, seemed almost indifferent to the announce
ment. Having perforraed his task, he had ridden back
to our home, seven miles upon the return journey, and now
reached it, himself and his steed half dead from exhaus
tion. There was little to lighten the gloom in the poor
feUow's appearance or conversation, for he reported our
father prostrated at Nag's Head from exposure in the
effort to prepare the island for the approaching assault.
A roaring wood-fire and a hearty supper somewhat
revived his spirits, and for a time we alraost forgot war
troubles while he gave marvelous accounts of the great
flocks of sea-fowl through which he had ridden in the
storm. The strong winds and high tides had forced him
to ride, sometimes for miles, in water up to the knees
of his horse ; and the storm was so fierce that the geese
and brant and ducks, driven in-shore, were reluctant to
fly, and oftentimes barely moved out of the way of his
horse. As we sat there, seeking such comfort as our home

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 181
and security frora the storra outside gave us, and won
dering what had happened below, we little realized that
upon the day before, and on that very day, the battle of
Roanoke Island had been fought and lost, and that our
gallant brother, wounded to death, lay dying in the camp
of his captors.
The battle of Roanoke Island, fought February 7 and
8, was the first of a series of disasters which befell the
Confederates in the early part of 1862.
Roanoke Island is shaped something like an hourglass.
Its northernmost half is higher ground than its southern
most, and the waters and wet marshes almost intersect
it at its middle part. The engineers who planned its
defenses placed all its fortifications upon the upper half,
bearing upon the channel of Croatan Sound to westward.
Not a work was erected to prevent a debarkation upon its
lower portion. An attacking force landing there was
absolutely safe from the water batteries, both while land
ing and afterwards. At the narrow neck of land which
connected the upper and lower half of the island was
a fortification, not one hundred feet in length and only
four and a half feet high, mounting three field-pieces.
This captured, every other artillery defense of the island
was at the mercy of the enemy, who by that manceu-vre
were in their rear, — so emphatically in their rear that the
vessels attacking the water batteries could not fire after
the Union troops assaulted the redoubt, for their shot
would have fallen into the ranks of their own troops.
The sea beach eastward of Roanoke Island, separated
from it by shallow water, is known as Nag's Head. My
father's headquarters were established at a seaside hotel
on the outer beach. The announcement of the presence
of Burnside's expedition found him prostrated with pneu
monia, and the command of the troops devolved upon

182 THE END OF AN ERA
Colonel Shaw, of North Carolina, although my father con
tinued to give general directions from his sick-bed.
The entire available force of Colonel Shaw consisted
of two regiments of North Carolina troops, numbering
1024 men, and a detachment of my father's brigade,
numbering 410 men, under Lieutenant-Colonel Anderson,
— total, 1434 men.
Upon the morning of February 7, the ships of Gen
eral Burnside attacked what was known as the Pork
Point battery, and a ridiculous little so-called fleet of
Commander Lynch, consisting of seven tugs and river
steamers. It was dubbed a " mosquito fleet," and such
in truth it was. Although gallantly manoeuvred, it was
no more regarded by Commodore Goldsbrough than if
the vessels had been so many tin pans armed with potato
guns. Pork Point battery was bravely defended all day,
but its guns could only be brought to bear upon objects
within a limited segment.
The bombardment was kept up until night to cover
the landing of the troops at a point known as Ashby's,
just below the narrow part of the island. No serious
damage was done to the battery, and but few men were
kiUed. Late in the afternoon, three Federal brigades were
debarked. The first consisted of five full regiments
under General Foster; the second, of four regiments
under General Reno ; the third, of four regiments under
General Parke, — thirteen full regiments in all, not to
mention a detachment of New York Marine Artillery,
with six Dahlgren guns, and Company B, New York
99th Regiment. The debarkation took place at Ashby's
Landing. Colonel Jordan, commanding the 31st North Carolina
Regiment, was sent to this point with his command under

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 183
orders to resist the landing, but he retired without firing
a gun. He had but 450 raen, and the overwhelming
number of the enemy, and the vast fleet covering their
landing and ready to open on him as soon as his firing
disclosed his position, perhaps justified Colonel Jordan in
returning. So the enemy, by night-time, in astonishing
force, was landed, and ready for next day's operations.
In his report. General Burnside gives a graphic de
scription of the beautiful sight when one of his light-
draught steamers ran up, towing a hundred surf-boats
loaded do-wn with men, and, " cutting loose " all at once,
the boats were beached side by side with such precision
that four thousand men were landed in twenty minutes ;
and this was but one of his three brigades.
Fancy the feelings of that little band of raw North
Carolina troops under Colonel Jordan when, from the
adjacent woods, they witnessed these landings, and not
only knew they had but one thousand comrades to assist
thera, but that, when tbe fight was lost, as lost it must be,
there was no hope of escape ! Verily, the first colonists
were not more desperately situated. No one can blame
the poor fellows for quietly withdrawing up the dark
and narrow road to the earthworks at the causeway con
necting the two sections of the island, a mile and a half
distant. There they found the Virginians and the 8th
North Carolina Regiment, numbering less than one thou
sand men in all. The earthwork facing south, and com
manding the causeway by which the Union forces must
approach, was so insignificant in size that even the smaU
number of Confederates avaUable more than filled it, and
a part of Jordan's regiment was placed in reserve in the
fight next day. The engineers who had erected this little
work had reported that the marshes to the right and left
were impassable. The same rainy, gusty night already

184 THE END OF AN ERA
described settled down on our wretched soldiers, while,
less than two miles away, between twelve and fifteen
thousand of the enemy were building camp-fires, cooking
their ample supplies of provisions, and preparing to ad
vance upon the earthwork in the morning.
Anxious to obtain information. Colonel Anderson or
dered Captain O. Jennings Wise, of Company A, 46th
Virginia, with twenty of his Virginians, to reconnoitre
the position of the enemy. In that wretched swamp,
reconnoitring meant simply going down a narrow road
until they struck the enemy. The road ran directly
south, through the main embrasure of the earthwork, over
the sunken causeway. In front of the work, for several
hundred yards, the timber was cleared away. Beyond
the clearing, the road entered the woods, and, turning to
the right, ran down to Ashby's Landing where the enemy
was bivouacked.
The task assigned to the brave fellows was simple
enough. All they had to do was to walk right down
through the silent pines until they came to the enemy's
picket guard ; when that happened, somebody was likely
to be shot, and somebody likely to run away.
It aU sounds very simple, does it not, dear reader ? I
am conjecturing, as I pen these lines, whether you ever
had any such experience. If not, and if you really are
anxious for a novel sensation, you can obtain it whenever
you go on one of these little reconnoissances.
Cheerfully, and as uncomplainingly as if the allotted
task was of their own choosing, the little party saUied
forth. Across the opening they trudged in the gray
darkness, and plunged into the silent woods beyond. In
Indian file and in silence they pursued their route.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, — on, on, on, every step bearing
them, as aU knew, nearer and nearer to the enemy they

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 185
were seeking. Now and again they paused and listened
for some sound ; then onward they pressed, the tension
constantly becoming greater. No picket fire warned
them. Of a sudden, " Who goes there ? " came forth huskily
out of the darkness from a picket not twenty yards away.
Quick as a flash, they made a dash for him ; but he fired
and fled, foUowed by two or three companions, who, like
him, fired backwards as they ran, and our boys gave them
a voUey, knocking one of them over. Pursuit was too
dangerous, for the sounds of the firing had aroused the
camp, and loud caUs and hurrying voices, not far distant,
made it too plain that discretion was the better part of
valor. So, picking up the cap and gun of the man who
had been shot, the scouts started on a double-quick back
to the redoubt. What was learned was only that the
enemy had gone into camp near the spot where he landed.
Prepared for sleep by this little march and its excitements,
my brother and his men lay down on the wet ground be
hind the breastworks, and slept, some of them, their last
earthly sleep.
A heavy fog hung over Roanoke Island the raorning
of February 8, so dense that the fleet opposite the Pork
Point battery was unable to open fire, exeept in a desul
tory way. It was eight o'clock before the mists lifted
sufficiently for the attack, and then the gunboats fired
cautiously, lest their shells should fall among their
friends who were advancing towards our works.
General Foster's brigade, accompanied by the six Dahl
gren guns, moved, about eight o'clock, up the narrow
roadway leading from Hammond's or Ashby's landings
to the redoubt. Their advance was completely concealed
from the Confederates, until a sudden turn to the left in
the road brought them to the clearing in front of our

186 THE END OF AN ERA
earthworks. Then the Dahlgren guns, under Midship
man Porter, went into position and opened fire, supported
by the 25th Massachusetts and 10th Connecticut regi
ments. The disposition of the Confederate forces was as fol
lows : three field-pieces, a 24-pounder, an 18-pounder,
and a 6-pounder, were mounted on the intrenchments.
For aU three, they had nothing but 6-pounder ammuni
tion. The 6-pounder was at the centre of the embrasure,
commanded by young William B. Selden, lieutenant of
engineers. The infantry supporting this artillery behind
the breastworks consisted of two companies of the 8th
North Carolina, two companies of the 31st North Caro
lina, and two companies of the 46th and 69th Virginia
regiments, in all about five hundred men. The Rangers
of the 59th Virginia under Captain Coles were deployed
as skirmishers to the right of the earthwork ; and the
Blues of the 46th Virginia under Captain Wise were
deployed as skirmishers to the left, in order to guard
against any attempted flank movement. Every engineer
and every scouting party who had examined the ground
had pronounced the deep and heavily wooded marshes
to the right and left of the Confederate position to be
impassable. General Foster, as soon as he engaged the fort with his
artiUery and leading regiments, ordered the 23d and 27th
Massachusetts regiments of his brigade to pass into the
swamp on the right, with directions to spare no effort to
penetrate it, and, if possible, turn the Confederate left
flank. Moving rapidly along the edge of the clearing,
these two regiments with great pluck entered the bog and
undergrowth, and, toiling knee-deep in the muddy ooze,
soon hotly engaged the Blues in the effort to turn our
left flank. The fighting in front was stubborn, so stub-

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 187
born, indeed, that in three hours the 25th Massachusetts
exhausted its ammunition and was relieved by the 10th
Connecticut ; and the artillery, having used all but a few
rounds of its ammunition, was ordered to suspend its fire.
Meanwhile, Reno's brigade, coming up, moved to the left
and penetrated the dense woods in the attempt to turn
our right flank. The assault of Reno's brigade was met
by the Ben McCuUoch Rangers, alone. Poor Coles, their
commander, was killed. The onslaught of Reno was irre
sistible, and, as soon as his men could extricate themselves
frora the morass and gain the higher ground where the
Rangers were posted, they drove the latter before them
like chaff before the wind.
Then came tremendous cheering from Reno's men, an
nouncing their success in turning the right flank of the
fort. This so inspired the brigade of General Parke,
which had now come up and was deploying to the right
to aid the attack of Foster's flanking column, that the
last regiment of Parke (9th New York), while in the act
of passing the causeway, hearing the sound of Reno's
cheering and seeing a slackening of the fire from the
Confederate earthworks, changed direction and charged
the works in brilliant style. Whoever else may have
been appalled, young Selden still worked his gun, which
bore directly upon the advancing regiment. A discharge
passed over their heads. Deliberately lowering his piece
and reloading, he seized the lanyard in his own hand and
attempted to fire. The primer failed. Coolly securing
and adjusting a new primer, he once more sighted and
screwed down his gun so that it would rake mercilessly
through the ranks now close upon him. He straight
ened himself from sighting, stepped back, and was actu
ally making the raotion to jerk the lanyard, when a
buUet from the rifle of a Union soldier not thirty yards

188 THE END OF AN ERA
away pierced his brain, and he feU forward across his
gun. On the left, the Massachusetts men, inspired by the
shouts from Reno's and Parke's commands, moved up
and drove back the Blues. Captain Wise, scorning the
protection of the trees behind which, by his command,
his men were concealed, passed back and forth along his
attenuated line, counseling the men to keep cool and fire
close. In such a position, under the fire of two regiments
concentrated upon a single company, his conduct was
almost suicidal. It was not long before his sword arm
fell helpless by his side, fractured near the wrist by a
minie-ball. Untying a handkerchief about his neck, he
bandaged the wounded lirab, laughingly remarking that
he was fortunate it was no worse ; but he had scarcely
resumed coramand of his men, when he fell mortally
wounded. His soldiers were passionately attached to him, and,
although the fire was by this tirae becoming murderous,
two of the Blues spread a blanket, lifted him gently upon
it, and, bearing him between them, trotted off sullenly
to the rear as the Union troops were climbing over the
Confederate redoubt to their right.
All was over as far as the defense of Roanoke Island
was concerned. Two small reinforcements landed on the
north end of the island that morning, one under Colonel
Green, another under Major Fry, but neither were in
time to participate in the fight.
Our little band had done its best ; two hundred and
fifty-one killed and wounded in the Union ranks (more
than half as many as our whole force engaged) testified
to the honest fighting of our men.
The capture of the redoubt placed the Union forces
directly in rear of the Confederate shore batteries ; and.

THE ROANOKE ISLAND TRAGEDY 189
as no other positions on the island were defensible. Colo
nel Shaw surrendered his entire force.
My poor brother was borne by his men along an unfre
quented path to the eastern side of the island. There
they found a small boat, and, obedient to his earnest
desire, were conveying him to ray father's headquarters
at Nag's Head, where he would have died. Unfortu-
na-tely, a party of the 9th New York under Colonel Rush
Hawkins pursued the same path as theraselves, and, see
ing the boat, opened fire upon it and ordered it to re
turn. One of these shots gave ray brother a third wound.
A letter written thirty-two years afterwards by Colonel
Hawkins, who in these days of restored araity I am proud
to number araong my friends, tells the sad, sad story of
the death of that sweetest brother boy ever had.
A few days later, a flag-of-truce boat brought up the
bodies of our dead. When, in the Capitol of Virginia at
Richmond, I gazed for the last time in the cold, calm face ;
when I saw the black pageant which testified to the gen
eral mourning as they bore him to his last resting-place in
beautiful HoUywood, — I began to realize as never before
that war is not all brilliant deeds and glory, but a gaunt,
heartless wolf that coraes boldly into the most sacred
precincts, and snatches even the sucking babe from the
mother's breast ; that the most cherished treasure is its
favorite object of destruction ; that it ever plants its fangs
in the bravest and tenderest hearts ; and that that which
we prize the most is surest to be seized by its insatiate
rapacity. But, reader, the death of a dear one in war does not
bring with it the chastened sorrow of a peaceful death. It
inflames and infuriates the passion for blood ; it intensi
fies the thirst for another opportunity to see it flow.
The feeling which possessed me then, I well remember.

190 THE END OF AN ERA
It was, " How long, oh, how long, wiU it be, before I can
bury these hands in the heart of some of those who
-wrought this deed ! "
In less than a month, the Confederate war-dogs tore,
before my very eyes, their bleeding victims in a way that
seemed an answer to my prayer for vengeance.

CHAPTER XIII
the merrimac and the monitor
The building of the iron-clad afterwards famous aU
over the world as the Virginia, or the Merrimac, was a
subject of daily conversation in our household from the
time the Gosport Navy Yard was burned and abandoned
by the Union troops in April, 1861.
My father, during his service in Congress, was for some
years upon the Committee on Naval Affairs ; his acquaint
ance with naval officers resulting from that fact, and from
his long residence at Rio de Janeiro, was unusually wide
spread. Commodore Jaraes Barron was one of his con
stituents and warm friends. Commodore Barron was the
gaUant but unfortunate officer who kiUed Decatur in a
duel, and was himself severely wounded. Besides other
contributions of value to the na-vy, he conceived the idea
of an impregnable steam propeller, armed with a pyrami
dal beak, and a terrapin-shaped back at an acute angle to
the line of projectiles fired from its own level. He called
it a marine catapulta, and had complete models, plans,
and descriptions, which he exhibited to the naval corarait
tee, in the effort to have a ship constructed on these lines.
He raade little irapression, however ; for in those days
steara navigation had attained no very great success, —
much less the utilization of iron upon ships. He sub
sequently presented the model to my father, who had also
a large number of models of other vessels.
In our rummaging about the place, we boys found these

192 THE END OF AN ERA
models in some old boxes, and took them down to our
millpond, where we anchored them as part of our minia
ture fleet. The Barron model, and one constructed by
Lieutenant WUliarason of the na-vy, were the most con
spicuous, making quite a proud addition to our naval dis
play. This was in 1860.
We also possessed a brass cannon about eighteen inches
long, which had been cast for us by a convict in the Vir
ginia Penitentiary. That cannon was stamped with the
words " Union and Constitution," but its use by its pos
sessors was most lawless. Modeling slugs for it by pour
ing raelted lead into holes made by sticking our rammer
in the sand, we were constantly firing these slugs, to the
great peril of everybody in the vicinity.
One of our neighbors, a Captain Johnson, an old sea
man, living about a mile down the creek, had a flock of
geese ; and frora one of his voyages in Indian seas he had
brought back six coolie boys, who were probably appren
ticed to hira. These coolies were passionately fond of the
water, and were almost constantly in sight, bathing, or
rowing, or sailing a felucca-rigged boat. After trying the
range of our gun upon Captain Johnson's geese, we began
to practice upon the coolies. On a certain evening, Caj)-
tain Johnson appeared in fuU marine rig at our landing,
rowed by his six coolies, and, announcing to our father
the sport in which we had been engaged, gave notice that
he had a gun of his own, with which, if we did not
promptly cease our diversion, he would open a return fire.
My father, who was a friend of Captain Johnson, and
indignant at our reckless misconduct, gave us all a bad
half hour in consequence of this visit. We were sum
moned before hira, and, after considerable discussion con
cerning the punishment we should receive, were marched
in a body to the landing and made to apologize to the

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 193
coolies, who grinned and showed their teeth. After that
we were good friends of the coolies, and our future opera
tions with the gun were confined to the millpond on the
opposite side of the farm. In our new field, it promptly
occurred to us, as it would to raost boys, that the best tar
gets for our cannon were the raodels of the iron-clads
anchored out in the pond. Unfortunately, they had no
iron upon them ; and, such was the precision we had ac
quired in our practice upon Johnson's geese and coolies,
that in a few days the models of Comraodore Barron and
Lieutenant Williamson were riddled, and ignominiously
disappeared. They were resting in the mud at the bot
tom of our millpond when the war broke out.
The following spring, after visiting the na-vy yard and
seeing the partially burned Merrimac, my father became
enthusiastic upon the subject of raising her and building
upon her frarae an iron-clad ship on the lines of Com
modore Barron's model. Imbued with this idea, he insti
tuted rigorous inquiries for the model ; but, for reasons
which raay well be understood, none of us boys aided him
much in the search. Failing to find his model, he wrote
to General Lee, who was then commander-in-chief of the
Virginia forces, an elaborate description of Commodore
Barron's invention, and made rough drawings, urging the
use of the Merrimac for carrying out the design. He
always believed and declared that this was the first sug
gestion which led to the building of the Virginia.
We all knew that an iron-clad ship was being built, and
frora time to time informed ourselves of the progress
made ; and great things were expected from her. So deep
was my father's interest in her, that he several times vis
ited the navy yard to inspect her. He repeatedly ex
pressed the opinion that she was being built to draw too
much water, and that her beak or ramming prow was im-

194 THE END OF AN ERA
properly constructed in this, that it was horizontal at the
top and sloped upward frora the bottora, whereas it should
have been horizontal on the bottora and made to slojie
downward to a point. When the ship was launched, he
was indignant because the lower edge or eaves of her
armor-clad covering stood several feet out of the water,
and it was necessary to baUast her heavily to bring
her sheathing below the water line. This increased her
draught to eighteen feet, which was, as he declared, en
tirely unnecessary. He insisted that this condition was
due to the failure of the naval architects (in calculating
the water which she would draw when sheathed with
iron) to deduct frora the weight of her sheathing the
weight of raasts, spars, rigging, and sails, which were
dispensed with.
Admiral Buchanan, Commodore Forrest, Captain
Brooke, and aU the prominent naval men connected with
the Norfolk Navy Yard were personal and warm friends
of my father. He did not hesitate to express his views
concerning these things, but they, as professional men
generally do, made light of the criticisms of a layman.
Nevertheless, I think that many naval authorities are now
disposed to admit that the chief reason why the Virginia
did not triumph completely over the Monitor was her
great draught of water, the loss of her prow, and the
twisting of her stem in ramming the Cumberland.
After the disaster of Roanoke Island, my father re
turned to his home on sick leave, where for some time
his life was in danger from pneumonia, aggravated by ex
posure on the retreat from Roanoke Island. Our house
was visited almost daily during this period by distin
guished military and naval officers from the city, who
came to express their interest and sympathy.
It was before the day of steam launches, and the ap-

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 195
pearance of the distinguished officers and of the naval
boats which came up, manned by a dozen oarsmen, whose
stroke feU as that of one man, was very striking. During
these visits, they diverted my father with full descrijitions
of the progress made in arming and equipping the Vir
ginia, and we were advised that the time of her coraple-
tion, and the attack upon the vessels in Hampton Roads,
was rapidly approaching.
There was dear old Commodore Forrest, tall, dignified,
and with a face as sweet as that of a woman, surmounted
by a great shock of white hair like the raane of some royal
beast ; and Captain Buchanan, far less striking iu appear
ance, quiet, kindly, and as unpretentious as a country
farmer, but with an eye which age had not dimmed, and
which even then was filled with the light of battle. They
were both old men. Commodore Forrest was sixty-five,
and Captain Buchanan sixty-two. There was also Captain
Brooke, taciturn and dreamy ; and Lieutenant Catesby
Jones, a quiet raan of forty ; and Lieutenant Minor, young,
quick, and fidgety as a wren ; and all the rest of them,
mingling -with us simply and unostentatiously, as if un
conscious that the issues of one of the greatest struggles
the world ever witnessed were committed to their keeping,
and that they were to emerge from it with names which
will be reraerabered as long as the records of naval war
fare are preserved.
Almost daily we boys went to Norfolk for the mail,
or on sorae domestic mission. We preferred our boat,
and seldom failed, before we left Norfolk harbor, to
stand over toward the Gosport Navy Yard and sail around
and take a look at the Merrimac. Such we called her,
for we had never become accustomed to the new name,
Virginia. My father was now convalescent, and secured
the promise that he would be advised when the ship was

196 THE END OF AN ERA
ready to sail for the attack. On March 7, he received
a note from Commodore Forrest, or one of those who
knew, advising him that the attack would be made upon
the following day. He consented that ray brother
Richard and rayself should accompany him, and the next
morning the horses, which now had been well fed and
rested for a month at home, were saddled and ready for
us at the door.
When we reached the city, the Merrimac, accompanied
by two little gunboats, the Beaufort and the Raleigh, had
already passed out, and all three were below Fort Nor
folk. The waterway is more circuitous than that by
land, and we were sure we should reach Sewell's Point, the
most favorable position for observing- the conflict, before
tbe slow-moving vessels ; in this we were correct. After
a sharp gallop of eight miles, we rode out upon the sandy
hills facing Hampton Roads at SeweU's Point.
The scene was truly inspiring. Hampton Roads is as
beautiful a sheet of water as any on the face of the globe.
It is formed by the confluence of the James, the Nanse
mond, and the Elizabeth rivers. The James enters it
from the west, the Nansemond from the south, and the
Elizabeth from the east. The tides in the Roads run
north and south, and pass to and from the Chesapeake
Bay through a narrow entrance at the north, between Old
Point Comfort and Willoughby's Spit. Midway between
these is the fort then known as Rip-Raps, the proper
name of which was Fort Calhoun, now changed to Fort
Wool. On the eastern side of the Roads the Confeder
ates had fortified two points, — Sewell's Point, where we
were, and Lambert's Point, at the mouth of the Eliza
beth. On the southern side, between the mouths of the
Elizabeth and Nansemond rivers, were the Confederate
fortifications on Craney Island. On the western side, at

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 197
the entrance to the Roads, is Fortress Monroe. From
there the land runs westwardly to Hampton, thence south
wardly to Newport News, which marks the entrance of
the James River. The Roads are about four miles in
width and seven in length. From where we stood, look
ing north. Fortress Monroe and the Rip-Raps were,
perhaps, four miles away ; looking westward across the
Roads, Newport News was five miles away ; and, looking
south, Lambert's Point and Craney Island were plainly
visible three miles off.
Upon the battlements of Fortress Monroe and the Rip-
Raps great nurabers of Union troops could be seen
through field-glasses, and we could also make out the
caraps and fortifications of the enemy at Newport News,
and between that point and Hampton, while our own
people lined the shores and crowded the ramparts at
Craney Island and Lambert's Point.
Anchored in the Roads were a great number of ves
sels of every description, steam and sail, from the smallest
tugs and sloops to the largest transports and warships.
Rumors of the attack had brought down to Sewell's
Point a nuraber of civilians, and the whole appearance
of the scene was suggestive of the greatest performance
ever given in the largest theatre ever seen. The Merri
mac and her attendants had passed Craney Island, and
were coming down the channel east of Craney Island
light, when we arrived. As she passed our fortifications,
she was saluted and cheered, and returned the salutes.
From the way in which she was shaping her course
when first seen, it looked to the uninitiated as if she
proposed to sail directly upon the Rip-Raps. Such
hurrying and scurrying was seen among the non-combat
ant craft in the Roads as was never witnessed before.
From great three-masters and double-deck steamers to

198 THE END OF AN ERA
little tugs and sailboats, all weighed or slipped anchor
and made sail or steam for Fortress Monroe, except three
dauntless war vessels, — two steamers, the Minnesota and
the Roanoke, and one sailing vessel, the St. Lawrence, —
whose duty called them in the opposite direction. A
long tongue of shoal, running out from Craney Island,
compelled the Merrimac to go below Sewell's Point
before she struck the main channel; then she swung
into it and pointed westward, showing her destination,
for she headed straight for Newport News, where the
masts and spars of the Congress and the Cumberland were
plainly visible.
It was now past midday. The Merrimac on her new
course was nearly stern to us, and grew smaller and
smaller as she followed the south channel to Newport
News. The three United States vessels — Minnesota,
Roanoke, and St. Lawrence — started after her by what
is known as the north channel. It was a bitter disap
pointment to us that the battle was to be waged so far
away, but the ships and their movements were still in
view. The sun was shining, and a fresh March breeze
would, we thought, blow away the smoke. It seeraed an
eternity before the first gun was fired. The Merrimac,
Cumberland, and Congress were nearly ranged in our
line of vision. The Merrimac appeared to us as if she
was almost in contact with the nearest of the two vessels.
Captain Buchanan states in his report that he was within
less than a mile of the Cumberland when he commenced
the engagement by a shot at her from his bow gun. We
saw a great puff of smoke roll up and float off from the
Merrimac; a moment later, the flashes of broadsides
and tremendous roUs of smoke from the Congress, the
Cumberland, the batteries on shore, and the Union gun
boats ; and then came the thunderous sounds, follow-

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 199
ing each other in the sarae order in which we had seen
the smoke. The engagement had begun.
It was a time of supreme excitement and suprerae
suspense ; for the details, we who had no glasses were
dependent upon those who had. " She has passed the
Congress ! " exclaimed an officer, who was straining- for
ward, trying to descry the positions of the ships through
the smoke, which now enveloped the point of Newport
News and the water beyond. Bang — crash — roar —
went the guns, single shots and broadsides, raaking all
the noise that any boy could wish. " She is heading
direct for the Cumberland ! " shouted another between
the thunders of the broadsides. " She has rammed the
Cumberland !" was announced fifteen minutes after the
first gun was heard, and our people gave three cheers.
Our teeth chattering with excitement, we awaited the
next announcement ; it soon came : " The Cumberland
is sinking ! " and again we cheered. Then came an
ominous lull, the meaning of which we did not know.
Those watching through the glasses notified us that three
steamers were in sight, standing down James River,
and we knew it was Coramander Tucker with the Pat
rick Henry, Jamestown, and Teazer. Think of it ! The
Jamestown, which, but four years ago, had brought the re
raains of President Monroe to Richmond, with the New
York Seventh Regiment, on that visit of fraternity and
good-will. Here she was, arraed as a war-vessel, fight
ing those very men !
Once more the cannon belched and thundered. This
time what we saw and heard was alarming : " The Merri
mac is running up the river, away from the Congress and
other vessels ; she is fighting the shore batteries as she
goes." It looked indeed as if she was disabled in sorae
way ; again a lull and anxious waiting. " The Merrimac

200 THE END OF AN ERA
is turning around and coming back ! " Again the roar
of a hot engagement with the forts; another luU and
another heavy roU. " She is back pounding the Congress,
and raking- her fore and aft. The Congress is aground."
Again our people went wild with enthusiasm. Poor fel
lows on the Congress ! When the Merrimac withdrew
and passed upstream, it was only to gain deep water in
order to wind her, for where she had rammed the Cum
berland, her keel was in the mud and she could not be
put about. The fearless sailors on the Congress, deluded
by the appearance of retreat, believed that she had hauled
off, and, leaving their guns, gave three cheers. Having
brought his ship around into position to attack the Con
gress, Captain Buchanan now came back at her, and, as
he approached, blew up a transport alongside the wharf,
sunk one schooner, captured another, and proceeded to
rake the Congress where she had run ashore in shoal
water. Describing this stage of the fight. Captain Buchanan
says in his report : " The carnage, havoc, and dismay
caused by our fire compelled them to haul down their
colors and to hoist a white flag at their gaff and half mast,
and another at the main. The crew instantly took to
their boats and landed. Our fire immediately ceased, and
a signal was made for the Beaufort to come within hail.
He then ordered Lieutenant Commander Parker to take
possession of the Congress, secure the officers as prison
ers, allow the crew to land, and burn the ship. This
Captain Parker did, receiving her flag and surrender
from Coramander Smith and Lieutenant Pendergrast,
with the sidearms of those officers. They delivered them
selves as prisoners of war on board the Beaufort, and
afterwards being permitted, at their own request, to
return to the ship to assist in removing the wounded,

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 201
never returned. The Beaufort and Raleigh, while along
side the Congress after her surrender, and while she had
two white flags flying, were subjected to a heavy fire from
the shore and from the Congress, and withdrew without
setting her afire, after losing several valuable officers and
men. Then Lieutenant Minor was sent to burn the ship,
when he was fired upon and severely wounded. His boat
was recalled, and Captain Buchanan ordered the Congress
to be destroyed by hot shot and incendiary shell.
By this time the ships from Old Point opened fire upon
the Merrimac. The Minnesota grounded in the North
channel ; the shoalness of the water prevented the near
approach of the Merrimac. The Roanoke and St. Law
rence, warned by the fate of the Cumberland and Con
gress, retired under tbe guns of Fortress Monroe. The
Merrimac pounded away at the grounded Minnesota until
the pilots warned her commander that it was no longer
safe to reraain in that position ; then, returning by the
south channel, she had an opportunity to open again upon
the Minnesota, although the shallow water was between
the two ; and afterwards upon the St. Lawrence, which
responded with several broadsides. It was too tantalizing
to see these vessels, which in deep water would have been
completely at her mercy, protected from her assaults by
the shoals. By this time it was dark, and the Merrimac
anchored off SeweU's Point. The western sky was illu
minated with the burning Congress, her loaded guns were
successively discharged as the flames reached them, until,
a few minutes past midnight, her magazine exploded
with a tremendous report.
Thus ended the first day's doings of the Merrimac.
Soon after she anchored, some of her officers came ashore,
and we, who had been waiting all day, and who had now

202 THE END OF AN ERA
decided to reraain all night in order to see the next day's
operations, were gratified with a fuU and graphic descrip
tion of the fighting. Captain Buchanan, Lieutenant
Minor, and the other wounded were sent to Norfolk.
Having been tendered the hospitality of SeweU's Point
by some of the officers, our party remained, and were
lulled to sleep by the firing of the guns of the burning
Congress, and rudely aroused about midnight by the
tremendous explosion of her magazine.
Up betimes in the morning, we saw the Minnesota still
ashore. She was nearly in line with us, and about a mile
nearer to us than Newport News. A tug was beside her,
and a very odd-looking iron battery. We expected great
things from this day's operations. About eight o'clock,
the Merrimac ran down to engage them, firing at the
Minnesota, and occasionally at the iron battery. She was
now under command of Lieutenant Jones. We confi
dently expected her to be able to get very near to the
Minnesota, but in this the pilots were mistaken. When
about a mile from the frigate, she ran ashore, and was
some time backing before she got afloat. Her great
length and draught rendered it difficult to work her.
Notwithstanding these delays, she succeeded in damaging
the Minnesota seriously, and in blowing up the tug-boat
Dragon lying alongside her.
While this was going on, the iron battery, which looked
like a cheese-box floating on a shingle, raoved out from
behind the frigate and advanced to meet the Merrimac.
The disparity in size between the two was remarkable ;
we could not doubt that the Merrimac would, either by
shot or by ramming, make short work of the cheese-box ;
but as time wore on, we began to realize that the new
comer was a tough customer. Her turret resisted tbe
shells of the Merrimac, and not only was she speedier.

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 203
but her draught was so much less than that of her an
tagonist that she could run oft" into shallow water and
prevent the Merrimac from ramming her. There was no
lack of pluck shown by either vessel. The little Monitor
came right up and laid herself alongside as if she had
been a giant. She was quicker in every way than her
antagonist, and presented the appearance of a saucy
kingbird pecking at a very large and very black crow.
The first shot fired by the Merrimac missed the Moni
tor, which was a novel experience for the gunners who
had been riddling the hulls of frigates. Then, again, when
the eleven-inch solid shot struck the casemates, knock
ing the men of the Merrimac down and leaving them
dazed and bleeding at the nose from the tremendous
impact, they realized that the cheese-box was loaded as
none of the other vessels had been. Neither vessel could
penetrate the armor of the other ; both tried ramming
unsuccessfully : the Monitor had not mass sufficient to
injure the Merrimac ; the Merrimac only gave the Moni
tor a glancing ram, weakened by the Monitor's superior
speed ; and then the Monitor ran off into shallow water,
safe frora pursuit.
Twice we thought the Merrimac had won the fight.
On the first occasion, the Monitor went out of action, it
seems, to replenish the ammunition in the turret, it being
impossible to use the scuttle by which ammunition was
passed unless the turret was stationary and in a certain
position. The second occasion was about eleven o'clock,
when a shell from the Merrimac struck the Monitor's
pilot-house, and seeraed to have penetrated the ship.
She drifted off aimlessly towards shoal water ; her guns
were silent, and the people on board the Minnesota gave
up hope and prepared to burn her. This was when
Lieutenant Worden, commander of the Monitor, was

204 THE END OF AN ERA
blinded and the steersman stunned. Their position was
so isolated that no one knew their condition for some
minutes ; then Lieutenant Greene discovered it, took
command, and brought the vessel back into action.
Shortly afterwards. Lieutenant Jones withdrew tbe
Merrimac. In his report of tbe action, he said : " Tho
pilots declaring that we could get no nearer the Minne
sota, and believing her to be entirely disabled, and the
Monitor having run into shoal water, which prevented
our doing her any further injury, we ceased firing at
twelve o'clock and proceeded to Norfolk. The stem is
twisted and the ship leaks ; we have lost the prow, star
board anchor, and all the boats. The armor is somewhat
damaged, the steara-pipe and sraoke-stack both riddled ;
the muzzles of two of the guns shot away."
When from the shore we saw the Merrimac haul off
and head for Norfolk, we could not credit the evidence of
our own senses. " Ah ! " we thought, " dear old Buch
anan would never have done it." Lieutenant Jones was
afterwards fully justified by hlli superiors, but it did
seem to us that he ought to have stayed there until he
drove the Monitor away. Beside the reasons assigned
above. Lieutenant Jones declared that it was necesary to
leave when he did, in order to cross the Elizabeth River
bar. The inconclusive result of that fight has left to
endless discussion among naval men the question, " Which
was the better ship of the two ? " It is not within tbe
scope of this volume to investigate that problem. It is
certain that, up to the time the Monitor appeared, the
Merrimac seemed irresistible, and that but for the pre
sence of the Monitor, she would have made short work
of the Minnesota. It is equally certain that the Moni
tor performed her task of defense. It is said she was
anxious to renew the fight ; but two weeks later, the

THE MERRIMAC AND THE MONITOR 205
Merrimac went down into deep water, where the Monitor
was lying under the guns of Fortress Monroe, and tried to
coax her out, but she would not come, and even permitted
the Jamestown and Beaufort to sail up to Hampton and
capture two schooners laden with hay. The truth is
that, if the Merrimac could have induced the Monitor to
meet her in deep water, she would easily have rammed
and sunk her.
On our ride back to the city, my father, while greatly
elated at what had been done, continued to deplore the
errors of construction in the Merrimac, which the two
days' fighting had made all the more manifest ; but we
boys thought she had earned glory enough, and joined the
others in the general jubilation.
Everybody in Norfolk knew the officers and men on
board our ships ; many of them were natives of the town.
When they were granted shore leave, they were given a
triumphal reception. Some time since, I read an account
of the Dutch admiral, De Ruyter, who, the day after his
four days' battle with the English fleet, was seen in his
yard in his shirt-sleeves, with a basket on his arm, feeding
his hens and sweeping out his cabin. It reminded me
of the simple lives and unpretentious behavior of those
splendid fellows who handled the Merrimac. Yesterday,
they revolutionized the naval warfare of the world ; to-day,
they were walking about the streets of Norfolk, or sitting
at their firesides, as if unaware that fame was trumpeting
their names to the ends of the earth.

CHAPTER XIV
A REFUGEE
Notwithstanding our elation over the performances
of the Merrimac, which every one in the Confederacy re
garded as brilliant victories, the fact that Norfolk was in
imminent peril became more and more apparent.
The lodgment gained by the Union forces at Roanoke,
and their possession of the sounds and rivers on the North
Carolina coast, had given them control of the canals tribu
tary to the city, and their presence was a constant menace
to the railroads, which were now the chief remaining
means of supplies. Union troops could at any time be
transported up the North Carolina rivers to within a few
miles of the Seaboard and Petersburg lines.
If our army should at any time retreat from the lower
peninsula between the York and the James, the Peters
burg line would be further imperiled ; for in that event, it
would be easy to throw a force of Union troops across the
James to cut the railroad. The fifteen thousand Con
federate troops in and about Norfolk would then be in a
position of extreme danger.
These things were, of course, much more apparent to
those in command than to us boys ; but throughout Marcb
and April we saw and heard enough to make us realize
that there was a grave prospect that Norfolk raight at any
time be evacuated, and our home left within the Union
lines. My father became so thoroughly satisfied of the ap-

A REFUGEE 207
preaching evacuation of Norfolk that he suspended farm
ing operations, directed the sale of surplus stock to the
Confederate commissary, ordered that all the hogs should
be killed and cured, and that all the corn upon the place
should be ground and sold. Out of abundant precaution ,
the family was removed in the latter part of April to the
vicinity of Richmond, and thither also were sent a num
ber of the young, able-bodied slaves.
Meanwhile, his military duties called him to Richmond,
where he was placed in command of the inner line of de
fenses at Chaffin's farm, on the James River.
Our horae was thus left in the teraporary custody of the
miller, a white man, and a few of the old trusted slaves,
my father having arranged with a friend in Norfolk, a
man past the age of military service, that, in the event of
the evacuation of the city, he would move out and take
possession of RoUeston, occupy it, and as far as possible
act as protector.
About May 1, satisfied that the crisis was near at hand,
my father gave my brother Riehard a leave of absence,
and he and I, with an orderly, were sent to RoUeston to
do what we could towards disposing of the remaining
stock, and shipping our movables to a place of safety.
The plans of the military authorities were of course
guarded with as much secrecy as possible, but upon our
journey to Norfolk, the crowded condition of the railroads
and the immense shipments of government stores and
munitions not only confirmed us In the opinion that
this was preparatory to evacuation, but satisfied us it was
almost idle to hope to secure transportation for our pri
vate effects.
Still, we hustled around in a very lively way. We sold
some horses and cattle to the government, and, with a
little more timj, would have succeeded fairly well in strip-

208 THE END OF AN ERA
ping the old place " down to bare poles," as the sailors
say. It was a sad and lonely raission. The farm was
just beginning to assurae an orderly and weU-kept appear
ance. Two years of hard work, and the expenditure of a
large amount of money in new buildings and fences and
in painting, had brought it out wonderfuUy. New roads
had been built, trees had been planted, and ragged spots
had been cleaned up, until RoUeston, while nothing grand
or fine, was a sweet, home-like old farm, endeared to us
especially by the memory of the delightful days of boy
hood which we had spent there. Now everything about
it was gloomy and sad enough. Not a human being was
in the house with us, except Skaggs, the white orderly,
who was sent to assist us, and old Aunt Mary Anne, the
cook, and Jim, the butler. Jim my father regarded as
his man Friday. Jim was to accompany us on our return
to Richmond. Nobody doubted that one so faithful and
so long trusted would prove true in this emergency.
We wandered back and forth through the old house,
looking over the deserted rooms to see what particular
articles, most prized, we might wrap in small packages
for removal, in case we could not arrange for the trans
portation of everything. It was a difficult problem to
solve. The house was filled with souvenirs from all parts
of Europe and North and South America. That was
before the days of bricabrac, but our house abounded in
the things now so called. Our drawing-room contained
several pictures of great value, and many valuable histori
cal relics. Among the pictures were the original of Her
ring's Village Blacksmith ; a beautiful Bacchante, painted
in 1829 by Pauline Laurent, presented to my father by
Baron Lomonizoff ; and a set of exquisite Teniers (paint
ings of Dutch drinking-scenes), beside sundry works of
less note but great value. The cabinets were literally

A REFUGEE >209
loaded with pretty souvenirs of foreign travel, and articles
of historic interest.
We determined that these things should be first packed
and shipped, and had succeeded, on our visit to the city
the day before, in securing a promise from a friend in the
transportation department that, if we had them in Norfolk
the next day, he would send them through for us, even
if they went along with government goods. Accordingly,
we had ordered up the lumber for boxing them, and with
Skaggs and Jim were just preparing to pack, when, look
ing out of the window, we saw, rapidly approaching in a
buggy, the friend whom our father had engaged to occupy
the farm in case Norfolk was evacuated. As he drove up
to the yard gate, opened it hastily, and hurried to the
front steps, he exclaimed excitedly, even before alighting,
" The Yankees are coming I The Yankees are coming !
You had better get out of here quickly, if you don't want
them to catch you ! " Then, in calmer tones, he told us
that the city was being evacuated ; that the garrison from
Sewell's Point and Lambert's Point had been withdrawn
during the night, and, together with the troops in the
intrenched camps between us and Norfolk, had all been
marched into the city, and transported quietly under
cover of darkness to the south side of the Elizabeth River ;
that the work of destroying the Gosport Na-vy Yard at
Portsmouth had begun ; that the Merrimac had sailed out
of the harbor to go up James River ; that the enemy at
Fortress Monroe were landing troops at SeweU's Point and
WiUoughby's Spit ; that they were rapidly approaching,
if they had not already reached, the city ; and that there
was not a Confederate soldier between us and them.
It took us about two minutes to decide upon our course
of action. By taking the Princess Anne County road
via Great Bridge, we could pass around the head of the

210 THE END OF AN ERA
eastern branch of the Elizabeth River, and, going thence
westwardly to Suffolk, get once more within the Confed
erate lines. We bore in mind that the Union troops in
North Carolina were probably acting in concert with those
at Fortress Monroe, and, marching up from the South,
might intercept us. Skaggs hurried to the stable, har
nessed four mules to a farm wagon, and went straight to
the smoke house. We harnessed a pair of carriage horses
to our best carriage, and proceeded to the house. The
faithful Jim was on hand to aid iu loading the carriage
with such silverware and valuables as it would hold, and
such of the farm hands as were left aided Skaggs in
loading the wagon with raeat.
Just before we were ready to start, Jim disappeared.
In vain we called and searched for him. We never saw
him again. The prospect of freedom overcame a lifetime
of love and loyalty. There never was an hour of his life
at which he could not have had his freedom for the
asking. He had several times refused it. But now the
opportunity was irresistible.
Skaggs with his wagon drove out ahead of us. My
brother for the last time disappeared in the house. When
he returned, he had in his hands a long roU of canvas.
He had with his knife cut " The Village Blacksmith " out
of its frarae, and wrapped it upon a roller. We tied it
firraly, and strapped it in the top of the carriage. After
the war, we sold that picture for fifteen hundred dollars,
and the money came at a very good time. During the
present year (1897), the press has announced its sale in
England at a very large sum. Some years afterwards,
I found the Bacchante of Pauline Laurent in the parlor
of a Union volunteer general in Washington, and have it
now. He delivered it upon a very persuasive note from
General Schofield, then Secretary of War. Our Teniers

A REFUGEE 211
paintings, and several others of considerable value, have
never been recovered. Soon after the war ended. General
Brown, of the Freedmen's Bureau, returned to ray father
a valuable meerschaum pipe, the gift of the King of Hol
land to a friend ; and when I was in Congress, General
B. F. Butler presented me with a cup made frora the ori
ginal timber of the United States ship Constitution, re
ceived by my father from Captain Percival, of the navy.
Thus, frora time to time, a few of the things we left that
day drifted back to us ; but the great bulk of them were
swept out by the tide, and lost upon the all-engulfing sea
of war. My father's correspondence, which was very
extensive, was left in his library. It was placed by the
Union authorities in the hands of the late Ben: Perley
Poore, of Boston, for examination. It was said that the
chief purpose of such searches was to find, if possible,
disloyal correspondence between Southern leaders and
people in the North known as Southern sympathizers.
Many years after the war, a box of unimportant letters was
returned to me by one of the departments. The valuable
portions of the correspondence were missing. When Mr.
Poore died, a few years ago, his effects were advertised
for sale, and among them were a great nuraber of letters
from ray father's files.
We bade fareweU to RoUeston -with heavy hearts, and
bent our cheerless way to Great Bridge. Even before
we left, the explosions in Norfolk began, and we heard
them as we drove along. We were very anxious lest the
eneray, coming up from the South, should reach Great
Bridge before we did, but we passed it safely, and late in
the night reached Suffolk. It was a profound relief when
we found ourselves once more safely within the Confeder
ate lines. We saved our bacon in more senses than one ;
for a party of Union troops reached our place a few hours

212 THE END OF AN ERA
after we left it, and the next day the Union forces oc
cupied the route we had traveled to Suffolk. Not long
after our arrival there, we heard an unusuaUy loud explo
sion, which, as we afterwards learned, was the blowing-up
of the magazine of the Merrimac, an event which de
pressed u^s greatly.
Reaching Richmond after several days' quiet driving,
we were directed to proceed to my sister's home in Gooch
land County, whither the women of our family had pre
ceded us. There I remained until shortly after the seven
days' fighting about Richmond, when I was sent in charge
of some of our slaves to a teraporary home secured by ray
father in the mountains of southwest Virginia, at Rocky
Mount, in Franklin County. He correctly foresaw that,
whatever happened, no enemy would penetrate into that
remote region.
Before our departure for Franklin County, I made sev
eral visits to Richmond, which was now on all occasions
crowded to overflowing with troops. The most vivid im
pression of handsome soldiery made upon me during the
war was by the Third Alabama Regiment. In the two
months which had elapsed since the evacuation of Nor
folk, I had not seen the regiment. Of its splendid con
duct in the battle of Seven Pines, and in the other en
gagements, I had of course heard, and, knowing many of
its members, was naturally interested in everything con
cerning it. Passing along the streets of Richmond one
day, I saw three or four soldiers, looking as ragged and
dirty as the average, and I should have passed them by
without further attention but for hearing my name called.
Then it was I recognized a party of the dear old boys
whom I had known in the intrenched camp at Norfolk.
It is impossible to convey any idea of the change which
had been wrought in their appearance by two months of

A REFUGEE 213
hard campaigning on the Peninsula. Their uniforms,
once so neat, were worn and torn and patched, marked
with mud and clay, and scorched by carap-fires. Their
bright buttons and trimmings had lost all lustre. Their
hair was long, the freshness of their complexions gone,
and their eyes seemed lustreless and bleared by camp-fire
smoke. Even their voices were softened and subdued.
Oh ! nobody knows, until he has seen it, how marching
and fighting by day, and sleeping under the stars or in
the storm at night, can wear raen out. The Third Ala
bama had had many a hard knock since we parted. In
one of its earliest engagements, it had been subjected by
the mistake of sorae commander to a murderous attack,
in which it lost its noble colonel, Lomax, whose body
was never found. I was shocked and surprised, upon
inquiry for this or that light-hearted fellow whom I had
known in the gay days of mandolin and guitar and moon
light sails, when they camped at Norfolk, to hear that
he was killed at such a place, or wounded at such a
place, or lay ill in such and such hospital, or was granted
sick leave. Nothing I had ever seen or heard before
so brought home to me the vivid realization that this war
was becoming all-consuming and all-devouring.
"And where is the regiment now?" I asked. Itwas
on the nine-mile road, facing the enemy, about seven
miles from the city, near the Chickahorainy bottoras, wait
ing to yield up yet other victims to the Confederate cause
in the seven days' fighting about Richraond. That even
ing, I rode down to see them, but there was little to cheer
one in the visit. There were no raore tents, or cooks, or
attendant servants, or bright uniforms, or bands, or dress
parades. The camp was located in a copse of pines in
rear of a line of breastworks from which the Union
troops had been driven in the battle of Seven Pines, and

214 THE END OF AN ERA
which were now raade to face the eneray. The men slept
on the ground, without any covering. The few camp-fires
were built along the line, and the soldiers were cooking
their own rough fare. Out at the front, picket firing
resounded all along the line, and the raen seemed to be
silently brooding upon the deadly storm then gathering.
The seven days' fighting, from Mechanicsville to Malvern
Hill, began a little later, and many another friend among
them yielded up his life in those sultry summer days of
1862. As we were returning to Richmond that afternoon,
attracted by artillery firing upon the MechanicsviUe pike,
we rode out to Strawberry Hill, a beautiful farm over
looking the Chickahorainy valley, and witnessed an artil
lery duel between Captain Lindsay Walker's battery and
a Union battery stationed in a field just above Mechan
icsviUe. The firing was across the Chickahorainy valley.
Through field-glasses, large raasses of the enemy were
plainly visible about Mechanicsville, and the spires of
Richmond were the background of the battery at which
the Union troops were firing. One of General McClel
lan 's anchored balloons rode high in the heavens behind
Mechanicsville, and altogether the sight was exceedingly
inspiring. The distance between the combatants was not
more than two miles ; but the damage done in these en
counters, with the short-ranged artillery of that day, was
insignificant. It was on this occasion that I first saw President Davis,
who had ridden out with several members of his staff to
inspect the lines. Mr. Davis was an excellent horseman,
and looked weU on horseback. He had a passion for mili
tary life, and was a man of cool nerves under fire. His
presence was always greeted with considerable enthusiasm
by the troops, although he never had the hold upon their

A REFUGEE 215
hearts possessed by " Ole Joe," or " Mars' Robert," as
General Johnston and General Lee were called. I do not
recoUect distinctly who accompanied him, but have an
impression that his young secretary. Burton Harrison,
was one of the party. It was a time of deep solicitude
for Mr. Davis, no doubt, as the army had just changed
commanders. General Johnston had been wounded at
Seven Pines, and General Lee had been reHeved from
duty at Charleston and appointed to succeed hira.
The war had by this time produced two comparatively
new industries. One was the issuing of " shinplaster "
currency, and the other was the raanufacture of fruit
brandy. The United States laws relating to currency and reve
nue no longer obtained, and the Confederate laws had
not been put into enforcement. The lack of small cur
rency soon gave rise to the issue of one dollar and fifty-
cent and twenty-five-cent bills, by nearly aU the towns
and counties of the State. Private bankers also issued
these bills, and even private indi-viduals. I remember
particularly one Sylvester P. Cocke, an old fellow who
had formerly kept a country store at Dover Mills, in
Goochland County. In 1862, he had a little office upon
the bank of the " Basin " or terminus of the James River
and Kanawha Canal, in Richmond. The office was not
exceeding ten feet square, and stood in the corner of a
large vacant coal-yard. Mr. Cocke's banking facilities
consisted of a table, a small safe, a stack of sheets of biUs,
and a stout pair of shears. He had his I. O. U.'s printed
on ordinary letter-paper. They had in one corner a pic
ture of a mastiff lying in front of an iron safe, holding
its key between his paws, and, besides the date, declared,
" On demand I promise to pay to bearer " one dollar,
fifty cents, or twenty-five cents, or ten cents, and were

216 THE END OF AN ERA
signed by Sylvester P. Cocke in a clerical hand. There
he sat signing, or clipping his promises apart with his
shears, and, although Mr. Cocke's means of redemption
were an unknown factor, his notes passed current -with
people in Richmond, and all through the valley of the
James, as if they had been obligations of the Bank of
England. Everybody in the country was engaged in converting
his fruit into brandy. Wherever there was a clear stream
and a neighboring orchard, there was sure to be a still.
Where all these stills and worms and kettles came from,
nobody could conjecture. It was a great fruit year, and
there were no markets, and it was apparent that liquor
would be scarce and high. In July, 1862, I drove our
horses and carriage from a point just above Richmond to
the abode of the faraily in Franklin County, a distance of
two hundred miles or more, and I feel confident that there
was not ten miles upon the route in which I did not pass
one or more fruit distilleries.
The passion for speculating in things which were likely
to become high-priced as the war progressed took posses
sion of everybody about this time. Staple articles, like
sugar and coffee and flour, were growing scarce. Pru
dent housekeepers who had the means to procure these
things laid in large supplies. Speculators were buying
them up, and storing them for the rise which was sure to
come. About this time also, in view of the scarcity of
sugar and molasses, people began to cultivate sorghum,
which thrived in our climate, and yielded a reasonably
good substitute for cane molasses.
But the spirit of speculation was not confined to the
larger products ; it extended to every variety of smaU
manufactured articles. On my drive to Rocky Mount, I
stopped one night in Buckingham County with an old fel-

A REFUGEE 217
low who had a wayside tavern and a country store. Dur
ing the evening, conversation turned upon the increased
price of everything, and the profits to be made by pur
chasing and holding articles which it would soon be diffi
cult to procure. I became infected with the trading
spirit, and on the foUowing morning my host admitted me
to his store to inspect his stock, and determine whether
there was anything which I particularly desired.
War had made sad changes in the appearance of coun
try stores. The shelves, once filled with bright prints and
cloths and roUs of gleaming white goods, were now almost
empty. Only here and there were a few bolts of common
cloth, such as the Confederate mills could produce. The
posts were no longer decorated with bright trace-chains
and horse-collars and currycombs, but simply displayed
a few rough shuck collars and improvised farming gear.
The showcases had been utterly cleaned out of their stock
of ribbons and laces, cakes and candies, and cotton and
scissors and gilt things. Perfumed soaps and toilet arti
cles, the glory of country stores in peace time, had dis
appeared. A few skeins of yarn for knitting socks, and
cakes of home-made soap and moulds of beeswax, a few
chunks of maple-sugar, all at very high prices, constituted
about all the stock in trade that was left. I cast about in
vain for rare articles in which to invest for a rise, until at
last I spied, upon a dusty shelf, a box of watch-crystals !
Timidly I inquired the price, and it was not very high.
" Do you think they wiU increase in value ? " I asked
hesitatingly. " Increase ? " said the storekeeper ; " young man, you
have a trader's instincts. Increase ? Why, in a year
there will not be a watch-crystal in the. Confederacy. You
can name your own profit, and anybody wiU be glad to
give it." So I bought the nest of watch-crystals, feeling

218 THE END OF AN ERA
sure I had a fortune in them. Perhaps I should have
made a great profit. With this idea firmly in my mind,
I nursed them carefully for several days, fully intending
to put them aside until watch-crystals were at the top
notch of Confederate prices, and then pocket a princely
gain ; but unfortunately, before I reached the end of that
journey, I one day, in a fit of absent-mindedness, sat down
upon the seat in the carriage beneath which my watch-
crystals were stored, and thus ended my first and last
Confederate speculation.

CHAPTER XV
AMONG THE MOUNTAINS
Rocky Mount, our place of refuge, was a typical Vir
ginia mountain viUage. Even at this present time, when
it has its railroad and telegraph, one in search of seclu
sion from the outside world might safely select it for his
purpose. Month after month, year after year, roll by
without other things to vary its monotony than the horse-
tradings, or public speakings, or private brawls of court
days, or an occasional religious "revival."
But in the summer of 1862, the excitement of war,
and the feverish anxiety to know of its progress, and the
unusual activity in every sort of trading, pervaded even
that secluded locality.
The nearest point to us reached by railroad or telegraph
was a station named Big Lick, upon the Virginia and
Tennessee Railroad, in the county of Roanoke. Round
about Big Lick, whose population did not exceed thirty
persons, the valley of the Roanoke River was, as it
still is, a veritable land of Goshen. The adjacent farms,
now covered by the populous city of Roanoke, were in
a state of excellent cultivation, and counted among the
most fertile in that beautiful valley. Hereabouts were the
stately homes of the Tayloes, the Wattses, the Prestons,
and many other representatives of the oldest and wealth
iest families of southwestern Virginia.
When a visitor known to them arrived at Big Lick, it
was useless, whithersoever he was bound or howsoever

220 THE END OF AN ERA
urgent his mission, to decline their generous hospitality.
He was sure to encounter some of them at the station,
and no protestation availed against first accompanying
them to their homes, and then accepting their equipages
in lieu of the public conveyance for the remainder of his
journey. My brother Henry, being a clergyman and non-com
batant, was in charge of our family in Franklin. After
driving our horses across country and conducting our
slaves to their new abode, I again went East for some
household effects, and he and I, returning together to Big
Lick, were there seized upon by some friends, detained for
several days, and finally dispatched to our journey's end
in the private vehicle of a Mr. Tinsley. His home stood
near the river bank, in a handsome inclosure, surrounded
by fields of harvested wheat, where the very heart of the
city of Roanoke is now located.
His adjoining neighbors, not far distant, were the
Tayloes, whose mansion stood in a stately grove with well-
kept lawns, at a spot where engine-shops and the houses
of railroad raen are built at present.
The thing which impressed me most, upon the visit to
these good folk, was the absence of all«the males of fight
ing age. The Tayloes of Roanoke were prominent people,
and in all public affairs had figured conspicuously as
representatives of their county and their section. Tbe
only members of the family at home to welcome the stran
ger within their gates were the aged, white-haired head
of the house and four or five daughters and daughters-
in-law, clad in mourning. We were received with fault
less courtesy, and entertained with exquisite hospitality.
Tremulously and anxiously the fine old gentleman, with
his female brood about him, asked for the latest news
from the front. Eagerly they plied us with new questions

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 221
concerning the progress and prospects of the struggle.
Insatiable and unabated seemed their desire to talk on
and on concerning that bloody phalanx aligned about
Richmond, whence we came.
And well might their deepest interest be centred there,
for every arms-bearing Tayloe — son, brother, husband
— was in the forefront of the fight, save one. He had
already fallen ; his portrait hung in the spacious drawing-
room beside the others. His narae was spoken and
spoken again with gentle tears, and with that reverence
which the devout render to the Christian martyr.
In this spacious, peace-embowered home, nestled close
to the river, under the looming Mill Mountain, whose
afternoon shadows were already creeping across the lawn
of oaks and elms, and maples and hickories, with the
summer breezes stealing around its white piUars and
through its wide hallways and swaying its muslin cur
tains, with naught but gently raurraured conversation to
break the delicious quietude, how far away seemed the
war! how startling was the contrast -with the seething
cauldron of strife in which their strong raen struggled
about Richmond !
Yet which were suffering the most ? Who shall mea
sure the agony which racked those hearts, outwardly so
placid, during the long years they waited while the strife
went on ?
Who can picture the desolating sorrow which engulfed
them as, one by one, the strong arms on which that house
hold depended fell helpless, and the news carae horae
that the brave hearts for whose safety they prayed had
ceased to beat ! for it was so. The war filled grave after
grave in the graveyard of the Tayloe family, until, when
it ended, the male line was almost extinct.
Our visit to these good folk was charming, and from

222 THE END OF AN ERA
time to time, when wearied of our mountain isolation, we
would return to their lovely vaUey to mingle anew with
such congenial friends.
To the east and south of them was the Blue Ridge,
and beyond it our home. From the railroad station the
stage road ran for a mile or two through the valley,
then crossed the Roanoke River by a ford at the base
of the mountains, then plunged into the rugged range.
Winding up hill and down vale it went on, through pass
and gorge and over tumbling mountain-stream, until it
emerged into the rough foot-hill country east of the Blue
Ridge, in which was our new home.
Twenty-eight miles of travel over such a route seems
much more than the measured distance, and carried us
indeed into a new class of population, as distinct from
that which we left behind as if an ocean instead of
a mountain range had separated the two communities.
Soon the broad pastures and fields of grain had disap
peared. In their place were rough, hillside lots, with
patches of buckwheat or tobacco. Instead of the stately
brick houses standing in groves on handsome knolls, all
that we saw of human habitations were log-houses far
apart upon the mountain sides, or in the hollows far
below us. No longer were pastures visible, with well-bred
cattle standing in pooly places, shaded by sugar maples,
bathing their flanks at noontide. No more did we meet
smart equipages drawn by blooded horses. No more tbe
haj^py darkey greeted us with smiles.
Up, up, up, — until the mountain side fell far below
our track; down, down, down, — until our wheels ground
into, and our horses scattered about their feet, the broken
slate of a roaring stream. Now, following the sycamores
along its banks, with here a patch of arable land and its
mountain cabin, whence a woman smoking a pipe, and

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 223
innumerable tow-headed children hanging about her
skirts, eyed us silently ; and there another roadside cabin,
with hollyhocks and sunflowers and bee-hives in the yard,
the sound of a spinning-wheel from within, a sleeping cat
in the window, and a cur dog on the doorstep ; here a
carry-log, with patient team drawn aside upon the narrow
road to let us pass, the strapping teamster in his shirt
sleeves, with trousers stuck into his cowhide boots, leaning
against his load so intent in scrutiny of us that he barely
noticed our salutation ; here a bearded man, clad in home
spun and a broad slouched hat, riding leisurely along on
his broad-backed, quiet horse, carrying the inevitable
saddle-bags of the mountaineer ; here a woman on horse
back, with long sunbonnet, and coarse, cotton riding-skirt,
and bag slung at the saddle-bow, and small boy, with
dangling bare feet, riding behind her ; here a spout-spring
by the roadside, where the living water of the mountain
side leaped joyously from a hollow gum-tree log grown
green in service ; now mounting upward again until all
that is visible is the winding road, with the blue sky
above it, and the massed tree-tops below, and the curling
smoke of some mountain distillery, with nothing to break
the stillness but the heavy hammering of the log-cock
upon some dead limb, or the drumming of the ruffed
grouse far away. So, on and on we toiled, until we
reached the open country beyond the mountains, and late
in the evening our steaming horses drew up at our new
home, which was strange and different from any we had
ever had before.
Our house was large, among the newest and most
modern in the village, prettily located on the outskirts,
on the highest knoll in the place, and coraraanded a fine
view of the little valley and Bald Knob, and the raoun
tains through which we came. The stage road, after

224 THE END OF AN ERA
passing our house, entered the raain street of the village,
which was a rocky lane upon a sharp decline, with stores
and houses scattered on either side, terminating at an
inclosure where stood the court house, clerk's office, and
county jail. Halfway down this street was the tavern,
an antiquated structure, with a porch extending along its
entire front, its brick pillars supporting a second story
overhanging the porch. This porch, which was almost
on a level with the street, was provided with an ample
supply of benches and cane-bottom chairs. At one end
of it, suspended in a frarae, was the tavern bell, whose
almost continual clang was signal for grooms to take or
fetch horses, or suraraons to raeals.
The tavern porch was the rallying-point of the town :
hither all news came ; here all news was discussed ; hence
all news was disseminated. Frora this spot the daily stage
departed in the morning. Here villagers and country
folk assembled in the day and waited in the evening ;
and to this spot came the stage in the evening, bearing
the mail, the war news, and such citizens as had been
absent, visitors who drifted in, or soldiers returning sick,
wounded, or on furlough.
Supreme interest centred ever about the arrival or
departure of the stage. In the foggy morning it ap
peared with its strong four-in-hand team, and took its
place majestically in front of the old tavern. The porters
rocked it as they dumped the baggage into the boot ;
the red-faced driver carae forth from the breakfast-room
with great self-importance. With his broad palm he
wiped away the greasy remnants of his meal, lit his brier-
root pipe, drew on his buckskin gloves, settled his slouched
hat over his eyes, clambered to his seat upon the box,
gathered his reins and whip, and cast a glance towards the
post-office across the way ; an aged man and a meek-

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 225
eyed woman in simple garb slipped quietly into the rear
seats, going perhaps on some sad mission under summons
to a far-off hospital at the front ; a dainty miss, with bon
net-box and bunch of flowers, kissed papa and mamma
and took her place within, full of joyous anticipation,
doubtless, for even in war times girls love to visit each
other; a fat commissary, returning frora his search in
the back country for supplies, came forth, reeking with
rum and tobacco, and swung up awkwardly to the seat
beside the driver. Tom, Dick, and Harry, the new
recruits bound for the front, proud in their new and
misfit uniforms, seized mother, wife, sister, or sweetheart
in their arms, kissed thera, bade thera have no fear, and
scrambled lightly to the top. The lame and tardy post
master hobbled forth at last, and threw his mail-pouch up
to the dashboard. The coachman gave his warning cry
of " All aboard," the hostlers drew off the blankets, the
long whip cracked its merry signal ; with discord in each
footfall at the start and concord as they caught the step,
the horses puUed away ; and the lumbering stage went
grinding up the stony street, its horn singing its morning
carol to those who were awake. As they disappeared
over the hill-top, a last merry cry of parting came back
frora the bright boys on the stage-top, and the last they
saw of home was the waving tokens of love from those
they left behind.
As the day advanced, the tavern porch again took on
an air of life.
Everybody traveled upon horseback. By midday, the
country folk began to stream in. Up and down the street
a graduaUy increasing line of saddle-horses were " hitched."
Woraen, old and young, arrived, — all of conventional
dress, and with horses singularly alike. Their bonnets
were the long-slatted poke-bonnet ; their riding-skirts, of

226 THE END OF AN ERA
coarse cotton. Alighting at the horse-blocks, they untied
and slipped off the skirts and tied them to their saddle
bows, revealing their plain homespun dress. Their horses
were broad-backed, short on the leg, carried their heads
on a level with their shoulders, and moved with noses
advanced like camels. They had no gaits but a swift
walk, a gentle fox-trot, or a slow, ambling pace. When
they had " hitched the critturs," these women went pok
ing about the stores, or the tavern kitchen, or the private
houses, with chickens or butter, or other farmyard pro
duce, seldom speaking further than asking one to buy ;
and when their sales were effected and little purchases
made, they went away as silently as they had come.
The men carae by themselves. Their principal occupa
tion seemed to be horse-trading. At times, the neighbor
ing stables, and even the street itself, were filled with raen
leading their animals about, and engaged in the liveliest
of horse-trading. A considerable proportion of the popu
lation belonged to a religious sect known as Dunkards.
In appearance, they were solemn and ascetic. The raen
wore long, flowing beards, and their homespun dress was
of formal cut. Their doctrinal tenets were opposed to
slavery and to war. Whenever political or military dis
cussions arose, they promptly withdrew. They were very
strict temperance men, and decent, orderly, law-abiding
citizens, but horse-traders ! It raust have been a part of
their religious faith. A Dunkard was never so happy as
when he was horse-trading.
There were others, too, to whom temperance was not
so sacred as to the Dunkards. By three or four o'clock,
the tavern bar was liberally patronized. The recruiting-
office had its fuU quota of young fellows inquiring about
the terms of enlistment. The tavern porch was filled
with people discussing war news, and the quartermaster

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 227
down the street had more horses offered to him than he
was authorized to buy.
At such times, a favorite entertainment was to draw
General Early out upon his views of men and events, for
the edification of the tavern-porch assemblage.
He was a resident of Franklin, and at that time sojourn
ing at the tavern. He had been severely wounded in the
battle of WiUiamsburg in May, 1862, and was now quite
convalescent, but stiU on sick leave. He was a singular
being. Franklin County had been strongly opposed to seces
sion. Jubal A. Early was a pronounced Union man, and
was elected from his county as her representative to the
Secession Convention. In that body he had opposed and
denounced secession until the ordinance was passed. As
soon as the State seceded, he declared that his State was
entitled to his services, and tendered them. He was a
man of good family, a graduate of the West Point Mili
tary Academy, and possessed unsurpassed personal cour
age. In 1862, he was a brigadier-general, and had been
conspicuously brave in the battle in which he was wounded.
His subsequent career in higher commands was disastrous.
After the war, he became notorious as the most implaca
ble and " unreconstructed " of all the Confederate gen
erals. He was a raan deeply attached to a sraall circle of
friends, but intensely vindictive and abusive of those he
disliked. At the time of which I write, he was the hero of Frank
lin County, and, although he professed to despise popular
ity and to be defiant of public opinion, it was plain that
he enjoyed his military distinction. It had done much to
soften old-time asperities, and blot out from the meraory
of his neighbors certain facts in his private life which had,
prior to the war, alienated from him many of his own

228 THE END OF AN ERA
class. In fact, I doubt not he was a happier man then
than he had been for many a year before, or was at a later
period, when he became more or less a social and political
Ishmaelite. He was eccentric in many ways, — eccentric in appear
ance, in voice, in manner of speech. Although he was not
an old man, his shoulders were so stooped and rounded
that he brought his countenance to a vertical position
with difficulty. He wore a long, thin, straggling beard.
His eyes were very small, dark, deep-set, and glittering,
and his nose aquiline. His step was slow, shuffling, and
almost irresolute. I never saw a raan who looked less
like a soldier. His voice was a piping treble, and he
talked with a long-drawn whine or drawl. His opinions
were expressed unreservedly, and he was most emphatic
and denunciatory, and startlingly profane.
His likes and dislikes he announced without hesitation,
and, as he was filled with strong and bitter opinions, his
conversation was always racy and pungent. His views
were not always correct, or just, or broad ; but his wit was
quick, his satire biting, his expressions were vigorous, and
he was interestingly lurid and picturesque.
With his admiring throng- about hira on the tavern
porch, on suraraer evenings in 1862, General Early, in
my opinion, said things about his superiors, the Confed
erate leaders, civic and military, and their conduct of
affairs, sufficient to have convicted him a hundred times
over before any court-martial. But his criticisms never
extended to General Robert E. Lee. For Lee he seemed
to have a regard and esteem and high opinion felt by him
for no one else. Although General Lee had but recently
been called to the command of the army, he predicted his
great future with unerring judgment.
The arrival of the stage not infrequently interrupted

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 229
General Early's vigorous lectures. For half an hour or
more before the event, the expectant throng would in
crease, and, as those who " brace " themselves for the
crisis were there, as everywhere else, conversation grew
louder and agitation greater as the time approached.
Then the stage would heave in sight in the gloaming, and
come rattling down the rough street, the horseshoes knock
ing fire from the flints. Before the smoking and jaded
beasts had fairly stopped, loud inquiries would be made
on all hands, of driver and passengers, for war news.
Somebody would throw down the latest newspaper ; some
body would mount a chair and read aloud ; and, just as
the news was encouraging or depressing, there would be
cheering or silence. Then would come the rush for the
mail to the post-office across the way.
The passengers, also, were a source of engrossing inter
est. There was young So-and-so, with his empty sleeve.
A year ago he had left the place, and passed safely
through all the earlier battles ; but at Malvern Hill a
grapeshot mutilated his left arm. Amputation followed,
and now, after a long tirae in hospital, here he was, home
again, pale and bleached, with an honorable discharge in
his pocket, and maimed for life. And there, collapsed
upon the rear seat, more dead than alive, too weak to
raove save with the assistance of friends, was a poor, wan
fellow, whom nobody knew at first. How pitiful he
seemed, as they helped him forth, his eyes sunken yet
restless, his weak arms clinging about their necks, his
limbs scarce able to support his weight, his frame racked
by paroxysms of violent coughing ! " Who is it ? " passed
from mouth to mouth. " Good God ! " exclaimed some
one at the whispered reply, " it can't be ! That is not
Jimmie Thomson. What ! Not old man Hugh Thom
son's son, down on Pig River ? Why, man alive, I knew

230 THE END OF AN ERA
the boy well. He was one of the likeliest boys in this
whole county. Surely, that ar skeleton can't be him ! "
But it was. The exposure of camp life had done for poor
Jimmie what buUets had failed to do.
There, perched gayly in air, and tumbling down upon
the heads of the bystanders with joyous greeting, was the
sauciest, healthiest youngster in the village, come home
on his first furlough in a twelvemonth, wearing on his
collar the bars of a lieutenant (conferred for gallantry at
Seven Pines), in place of, the corporal's chevrons on his
sleeve when he marched away. Camp life had raade no
inroads on his health. The sun and rain had only given
him a healthy bronze. His digestion would have assimi
lated paving-stones. The bullets had gone wide of him.
And his little world, the dearest on earth to him, — the
little world which had laughed and cried over the stories
of his capers and his courage in the field, — stood there
surprised and delighted, with smiling faces and open arras,
to welcorae him home, their own viUage boy, their saucy,
gallant fighting-chap, their hero, — home again, if only
for a week !
Each day opened and passed and closed, with its excite
ments. It was all very narrow and primitive, the out-
of-the-way world of the obscure village in an unknown
region. Yet in it were the same old hopes and fears and
joys and tears, hearteases and heartaches, loves and hates,
and aU the moods and tenses of human nature, to be found
in the most populous and cosmopolitan hives of humanity.
I was now nearly sixteen. Many youths of my age
were in the army. I had written more than once for my
father's consent to enlist, but received stern denials. The
war talk at the old tavern, the stories of camps and fights
and military glory, the daily enlistments, the desire to
appear a man in the eyes of certain girls, were all cooper-

AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 231
ating to inflame ray desire to be a soldier. I was growing
mannish and rebellious. My brother saw it all, and heard
me threaten to run away, and wrote father seriously,
advising him that I was getting beyond his control, and
urging him to send me to the Virginia Military Institute,
where I would be under restraint, and receive instruction,
instead of growing up in ignorance and idleness.
It was soon settled. September 1, 1862, I left Rocky
Mount, took the train at Big Lick, went to the neighbor
ing station of Bonsacks, and there perched myself upon
the stage-top, booked for Lexington. It was a long jour
ney, occupying sixteen hours. We started at six p. M.,
and, riding continuously, reached Lexington at ten o'clock
the foUowing morning. It was a glorious ride in briUiant
autumn weather, with moonlight. We passed through
Fincastle and Buchanan, and over the Natural Bridge.
As we approached Lexington, and I caught sight of
the Virginia Military Institute and its beautiful parade
grounds, and professors' houses and other buildings, my
mind was filled with thoughts of glorious military life,
and the coraraission in the array which awaited me when
I graduated, for I was now a cadet in the West Point of
the Confederacy.

CHAPTER XVI
PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON
Great differences in soil, climate, and scenery exist
between the grand divisions into which Virginia is cut up
geographicaUy. But they are not more striking than the
diversity of the populations, one from the other, in these
several sections, springing from differences in the tirae
and the manner in which, and the people by whom, her
several early settlements were made.
Two or three centuries of common government would
ordinarily seem sufficient to produce a homogeneous popu
lation in a State. While this result has been attained in
Virginia in essentials, it is nevertheless surprising to ob
serve in each section local peculiarities, types, and char
acteristics plainly traceable to its earliest settleraent.
We were first introduced to the lower Tidewater section,
where the soil is sandy, the climate balmy, the landscape
flat, viewless, save as it is redeemed from monotony by
the boundless, ever-changing grandeur of old Ocean. The
people, while of her oldest strains, are simple in their
mode of living, and admit neither lineage nor wealth as
basis for any caste or class distinction. Then we turned
to the region of the upper and lower James, with Rich
mond as its centre, settled later than Tidewater by the
so-caUed Cavalier immigration of 1649-60. There, of old,
social relations were akin to those of Rome's patricians
and plebeians, patrons and clients. Not alone was the
haughty descendant of Charles I. owner of a plantation

PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON 233
and of slaves, — - he was more : the poor whites and the
shopkeepers of country and town alike, consciously or
unconsciously, willingly or unwillingly, rendered him
homage as if he were their superior. And he, while often
proclaiming principles of social equality, seldom prac
ticed thera, and quietly accepted, as his legitiraate due,
the preeminence granted him by his humbler neighbors.
Then, with a raere glimpse of the Roanoke region, we
passed into the rocky soil, the wild and mountainous
landscape, and the rough, new, and nondescript popula
tion which, from one direction and another, has collected
upon and taken possession of the eastern slope of the
Blue Ridge range. Here, again, we found a deraocracy
full of independence and courage, but in all things of
education and refinement, far inferior to that in Tide
water. Now, at Lexington, we are in the heart of the valley
lying between the Blue Ridge and AUeghany ranges. It
is a region with a different soil, a different climate, differ
ent scenery, and a population more distinctly stii generis
than any yet described. The soil is based upon blue
limestone. It is where the grasses grow. The lands lie
tumbled into knobby hills and rolling fields, with here and
there narrow fertile valleys traversed by limpid streams,
whose banks are cedar-clad bluffs of limestone shale.
The great vaUey is more broken here, less pastoral, and
not so charming as in its lower section to the north, where
it widens, and is watered by the Shenandoah ; but this is
the bolder landscape, with a rugged beauty peculiar to
itself. The mountain framing of the picture is the same ;
but the land is higher, for, as the cloud-capped peaks of
the Blue Ridge and Alleghany ranges draw nearer to
each other, the vale between them is nearer to their own
altitude. We are in Rockbridge County, so called be-

234 THE END OF AN ERA
cause within its limits is the superb natural arch of lime
stone known the world over as the Natural Bridge.
Lexington, the county seat of Rockbridge, is near the
summit of the transverse watershed of the great valley.
Within a few miles of the town, streams rise, some pour
ing their waters southward into the tributaries of the
James, and others coursing northward, tributary to the
Shenandoah, which enters the Potomac at Harper's Ferry.
The place itself is beautiful. Looking east and south,
the rolling country falls away to the base of the Blue
Ridge, where the South River and North River unite and
flow onward to join the James, where their united waters
turn eastward through the pass at Balcony FaUs. The
magnificent Blue Ridge range bounds the eastern view,
and is last seen to southward, where the twin breasts of
the Peaks of Otter rear themselves against the distant
blue. Northward, beyond the wooded bluffs'of the North
River, steep hiUs of farming lands are tilted towards us,
their sides dotted with cattle, their summits cro-wned with
forests. Beyond these, crest after crest of the smaller
foothills of the Alleghanies appear. To the northwest,
looming in isolated majesty, is the House Mountain, with
the peak of the Devil's Backbone behind it, raarking the
route through historic Goshen Pass. North and south, as
far as the eye can reach, shading away in their tints from
deep eraerald to dreamy blue as they become more and
more remote, are masses of hills. To the west and south
west, now strongly outlined, now melting into the last visi
ble things of the distance, are the azure peaks of the
Alleghanies. Such is the country about Lexington, where
Virginia has her Military Institute. It is a spot almost
as beautiful as West Point, and the school is second only
to the Military Academy in thoroughness. It is an ideal
spot for healthfulness, and the isolation of youth from the

PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON 235
temptations and distracting influences of crowded com
munities. The boy who finds allurement to idleness and
vice in that town would discover it anywhere.
It is a community of Scotch-Irish Presbyterians. For
more than a hundred years after the settlement of James
town, and for over fifty years after Richraond was an
incorporated city, this valley reraained unviewed by the
eye of any white man.
As early as 1608, Newport, on his second visit to the
Virginia colony, brought with him a boat built in sec
tions, to be transported by him under orders to find the
South Sea beyond the mountains. The extent to which
he performed that order was that he marched to the Mona-
con country, about twenty miles west of Richmond, and
his company returned footsore to Jamestown.
One hundred and two years later (1710), Governor
Spotswood wrote to the Council of Trade in London that a
party of adventurers had found the mountains " not above
a hundred miles frora our upper settlements, and went up
to the top of the highest raountains with their horses,"
and looked over into the valley. This is supposed to have
been near Balcony Falls. It was not until 1716 that the
first passage of the Blue Ridge was effected. Then Gov
ernor Spotswood and his " Knights of the Golden Horse
shoe " entered the lower or Shenandoah vaUey by way of
Swift Run Gap, and took possession in the narae of George
the First. Governor Spotswood's expedition resulted in
nothing iraportant. The only diary of its performance
extant is principally devoted to description of the liquors
which the party carried with it, whereof eleven sorts are
enumerated. A few adventurers may have straggled into
the valley after this, but it was not until 1732-36 that it
was settled by any considerable population.
Shortly prior to 1732, an immense number of Scotch-

236 THE END OF AN ERA
Irish and Germans poured into Pennsylvania and the Jer
seys. Within thirty years, the population of Pennsylvania
increased from about thirty thousand to two hundred and
fifty thousand. The Sootsraen, who, for religious liberty,
had originally sought the north of Ireland, were the peo
ple who saved Ireland to William and Mary from Cath
olic James. Their loyalty was rewarded by new persecu
tions for non-conformity, until they resolved to seek asylum
in Ajuerica. So, also, about the same time came to Araer
ica a great migration of German Lutherans, who were
induced to settle in Pennsylvania. The Scotsmen occupied
the regions about Princeton, New Jersey, Easton, Car
lisle, and Washington. The Germans settled about York,
Lancaster, Columbia, and Harrisburg. Governor Logan,
himself a Scotch-Irishman, enforced some laws about 1730
which were so offensive to the Presbyterians and Lutherans
that great numbers of them left the Pennsylvania colony,
crossed the Potomac west of the Blue Ridge, in the vicin
ity of Harper's Ferry, entered Virginia, and settled the
Blue Ridge valley.
As if by agreement, the two bands separated. The
lethargic Germans, as soon as they escaped the Pennsyl
vania jurisdiction, occupied the lower vaUey from Har
per's Ferry to Harrisonburg. The aggressive Scotch-
Irish pressed on to the upper valley, then called West
Augusta, now di-vided into the counties of Augusta,
Rockbridge, Botetourt, Roanoke, and Montgoraery. From
then until now, the two races have retained possession of
and dominated their respective settlements.
And a very striking race of raen are these Scotch-Irish,
so called, yet with nothing Irish about them save that
for a little while they tarried in Ireland. Hated by the
Irish because they were Protestants, persecuted by the
English because they were Presbyterians, they in turn

PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON 237
cordiaUy detested both, and, in our Revolutionary strug
gles, were among the earliest and raost intense rebels
against the king. For liberty, as they conceived it,
whether it was liberty of conscience or liberty of the
person, the Scotch-Irishmen and their descendants have
never hesitated to sacrifice comfort, fortune, or life.
Their mountain origin has always manifested itself by
the places they have chosen in their migrations. The
few who went to the Puritan settlements of New England
soon moved from among them and sought the inhospit
able highlands of New Hampshire, where they bestowed
on their new settlement the name of Londonderry. The
little band who found asylum among the Dutch of New
York pressed onward from uncongenial associates to the
mountainous frontier, and named the county where they
settled Ulster, in memory of their Irish home. Those
who wearied of Pennsylvania and went to Virginia
avoided the light society of the Cavaliers in Tidewater
and Piedmont, preferring the mountain wilds of West
Augusta. Wherever they appeared, they seemed to be seeking for
some secluded spot, where, undisturbed by any other sect,
they might enjoy liberty unrestrained, and worship God
after their own fashion.
And great have they been as pioneers. They popu
lated western New England, northern New York, west
ern Pennsylvania, and the Virginia valley. Then they
pressed onward through western North Carolina, even to
northern South Carolina. Then they spread westward
through Cumberland Gap to the settlement of Kentucky.
In later days, their Lewis and their Clarke were the
explorers of the Northwest ; another Lewis was the first
to view Pike's Peak ; and even the territory of Texas
was in part reclaimed by Sam Houston, son of a Rock-

238 THE END OF AN ERA
bridge County Presbyterian. The pioneer work of the
Scotch- Irish has been greater than that of all other races
in America combined.
Great also have they been as fighters. John Lewis,
their first leader in the Virginia valley, was the terror of
the frontier Indians from the day of his arrival. Never
after his coming did the Indians come east of the Blue
Ridge. Another Scotch-Irishman, Patrick Henry, uttered
the immortal sentence, " Give me liberty or give me
death." General Henry Knox, of Revolutionary fame, the only
New England representative in Washington's cabinet,
was a Scotch-Irishman.
It was the Scotch-Irish of Mecklenburg, North Caro
lina, who framed the first resolutions embodying the prin
ciples of the Declaration of Independence. It was of the
Scotch-Irish and their valley horae that Washington was
speaking when, in the darkest hours of the Revolution, he
declared that, if the worst carae to the worst, he would
retire to the raountain fastnesses of West Augusta, and
there, with a few of his brave followers about hira, defy
forever the power of Great Britain. It was from the
same spot that Stonewall Jackson, another of the stock,
went forth in our great civil war, followed by his brave
men of Scotch-Irish ancestry recruited here, to revive, by
his grim prowess and their unshaken valor, the memory of
Old Ironsides and his Presbyterians.
And great have they been as disseminators of learning.
They founded the ancient college of New Jersey now
known as Princeton University. To their efforts are we
indebted for the colleges of La Fayette at Easton and
Washington-Jefferson College at Washington in Pennsyl
vania ; and Liberty HaU Academy, now called Washing
ton and Lee University, at Lexington, Virginia ; and
Chapel HiU in North Carolina.

PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON 239
And successful politicians and statesmen have they
been ; for Calhoun, Andrew Jackson, Franklin Pierce,
James Buchanan, Ulysses S. Grant, Chester A. Arthur,
Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, and William
McKinley were aU rich in this Scotch-Irish blood.
In his great work upon the Puritans, Douglass Camp
beU has admirably sketched the Scotch-Irish. Much has
been written of them of late years by writers less distin
guished ; and just now Professor John Fiske, under the
title of " Old Virginia and her Neighbors," has published
a most interesting account of the great Scotch-Irish migra
tion and its influences on our American civilization.
At Lexington, Virginia, these folk were and are, as
their ancestors have been for centuries, men of earnest,
thoughtful, and religious natures ; siraple in their lives
to the point of severity, sometimes severe to the point of
simplicity ; intense in their religious fervor, yet strangely
lacking, as it seems to us, in that quality of mercy which
is the greatest attribute of religion ; loving and possess
ing education, yet often narrow-minded, in spite of thor
ough training ; almost ascetics in their wants, not bounti-
f uUy hospitable, but reasonably courteous and considerate
towards strangers, and methodicaUy charitable ; regard
ing revelry and dissipation of body or mind as worthy of
supreme contempt ; of dogged obstinacy, pertinacity, and
courage ; dominant forces in all things wherein they take
a part. I had heard of their race, and heard them described,
long before I went there ; and now I was among them, —
those old McDowells, and McLaughlins, and McClungs,
and Jacksons, and Paxtons, and Rosses, and Grahams,
and Andersons, and Campbells, and Prestons, and Moores,
and Houstons, and Barclays, and Comptons, and all the
tribe of Presbyterians of the vaUey. All they possessed,

240 THE END OF AN ERA
and what they were, I curiously scrutinized as a type of
huraanity wholly new to me.
Their impress was upon everything in the place. The
blue limestone streets looked hard. The red brick houses,
with severe stone trimmings and plain white pillars and
finishings, were stiff and formal. The grim portals of
the Presbyterian church looked cold as a dog's nose. The
cedar hedges in the yards, trimmed hard and close along
straight brick pathways, were as unsentimental as mathe
matics. The dress of the citizens, male and female, was
of single-breasted siraplicity ; and the hair of those pretty
Presbyterian girls was araong the smoothest and the fiat-
test things I ever saw.
Shall I describe their habitations ? Would it violate
the laws of hospitality to do so ? I hope not. We have
entered a hallway, tinted gray, furnished with an oaken
hat-rack and straight oak chair of Gothic features, and
passed into a parlor. Although it is autumn, the polished
floors are uncovered save by strips of deep-red carpet,
such as one sees in chapel aisles. There is a fireplace,
but the fires are unlit. The furniture is straight up and
down mahogany covered over with haircloth. I have
often wondered what a Presbyterian would do if he could
not secure mahogany haircloth furniture for his drawing-
room. The room is dark ; the red curtains are half drawn.
Upon the black marble mantelpiece, under a glass shade,
are cold, white wax flowers. On the walls are solemn
engravings of Oliver Cromwell, Stonewall Jackson, and
The Rock of Ages. A melodeon, with church music,
stands in the corner. If, perchance, it be a pianoforte,
it seems like a profanation. There is also a Gothic table,
on toj) of which is the family Bible, beside it a candle
stick. Jay's " Morning Exercises," and the " Life of
Hannah More." Drawn near to these is a long-armed.

PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON 241
low easy-chair. Facing the fireplace are two rocking-
chairs, and six others, all in haircloth, stand stiff as horse-
guards' sentries about the walls.
If your call is timed in the evening, you wiU learn the
uses to which these articles are put, for, as nine o'clock
approaches, the sweet little Presbyterian girl you are vis
iting wiU begin to fidget ; and when the hour strikes, the
family will file into the room with military silence and
precision. Before you know it, the head of the house wiU
occupy that chair by the table, and open that Bible, and
give you the benefit of at least twenty minutes of Chris
tian comfort. Then, if you have not the good sense to
leave, he will proceed to fasten the window-blinds.
If your visit is in the daytime, other things wiU sug
gest themselves to your raind. For exaraple, you wiU
wonder what is the faraily dinner-hour. If you are so
fortunate as to receive a forraal invitation in advance, you
will not only learn, but you will have a bountiful and weU-
cooked meal, — not, perhaps, an Episcopalian epicurean
feast, but bountiful and nutritious food. If, however,
your notion was to drop in unexpectedly, and take an in
formal family dinner, let rae beg you to give it up. You
may go a hundred times, and the sleek-headed girl in pop
lin will give no sign, and the bell will never ring. She
would starve before she would ask you out, but she would
die before she would ask you in, for Presbyterians are not
built that way. Her father would immolate her for tak
ing such a liberty. The best you can hope for, on an occa
sion like that, is a cold red pippin on a cold white plate,
served where you sit shivering, in that vault-like parlor.
If you wish to be frisky with Miss Westminster, it is
possible in but one way. Ask her to go to church. Sun
day morning church is the most tumultuous of her gaye-
ties; Sunday night service is to her what an ordinary

242 THE END OF AN ERA
dancing party would be, as compared with a state ball,
to Miss Litany ; and Wednesday evening lectures are to
her what excursions for ice-cream or soda-water are to
" unregenerate " girls.
My ! for wild hilarity commend me to a coterie of
strictly reared young female Presbyterians. An evening
spent among them is like sitting upon icebergs, cracking
hailstones with one's teeth.
Yet, dear reader, believe me, after one has tried it
awhile, surprising as the statement may seem, one comes
to like it. Now and again, one of them says something,
or does something, like ordinary mortals ; and what she
says or does is in such a fetching, fascinating, ferainine
way that it raakes one want to go again, and makes one
feel glad that such gentle, pure, refined, simple, and true
people countenance an outside barbarian like one's self
in their society.
There is, believe me, a lot of outcome in one of these
little, demure Presbyterian lassies. Of course, if she has
no better luck than to marry one of her own people, that
settles it ! She will go through life mooning and min
cing about, like a turkey hen come off her nest. She
will pass her life thinking that going to hear sermons
and lectures is the chief end of raan, and that pippins,
spiced gingerbread, and cracked walnuts, served in a
chiUy parlor, are fit Christian entertainments.
She may even live and die thinking she is happy, not
knowing any better.
But if, perchance, good fortune brings her a knight
with a feather in his bonnet, and it catches her little meek
eye, as it is mighty apt to do ; if, after prayerful consid
eration, her strait-laced parents decide that it is best for
her happiness to let her go, even at her soul's peril ; if,
aU doubts and dangers past, she is borne triumphantly

PRESBYTERIAN LEXINGTON 243
away, her bonnet-box stuffed with the Shorter Catechism
and all orthodox kirk rudiments, — I assure you it is
surprising how promptly the little bud expands, and how
quickly she adapts herself to new surroundings.
I speak whereof I know.
How long we have been in Lexington without reporting
for duty I

CHAPTER XVII
A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE
Looking eastward from the front of the tavern where
the stage-coach deposited us, the barracks, mess-hall, pro
fessors' houses, parade ground, and limits of the Virginia
Military Institute were in view upon a hill about half a
mile distant.
My first care was to send a messenger with a note
announcing my arrival to my cousin Louis, who had pre
ceded rae at the Institute by a year. When he came,
he explained that his tardiness was due to the length of
time it required for an application for permission to leave
the limits of the Institute to pass through the necessary
official channels.
His greeting was hearty and joyous ; it had been a
long time since he had seen any relative from the outside
world, and this little release was quite a lark. How well
and bright-eyed he looked in his tight-fitting sheU jacket !
When we parted at Norfolk a year before, he was an
easy-going, slack-twisted little civilian, without particu
larly attractive dress or bearing. Now, he carried him
self like a fighting-cock. Exercise had hardened him
and developed his figure, his clothing fitted him like a
glove, and there was an easy confidence in his manner.
In a word, he had been licked into military shape.
We sallied forth together to report for duty at the
office of the superintendent. General Francis H. Smith.
His study was a very attractive place : it was a hexagonal

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 245
room, weU lit; bookcases stood about the walls, and it
was ornamented with a number of striking military pic
tures, chiefly French ; a bright wood-fire crackled in the
open fireplace. In a forraer chapter I aUuded to General
Smith. He had, at the time about which I write, been
superintendent twenty-three years, although he was then
only about fifty.
Your elderly soldier is generally of one of two types :
one is the rubicund, thunderous type ; the other, the lean, '
pale, spectacled, quiet type. There are modifications and
variations of these two generic classifications, of course :
but under one or the other the great mass of elderly
soldiers raay be grouped.
To the latter belonged General Smith. He was tall,
thin, agile ; in youth he had been an extreme blonde ;
his lithe figure still bore a soldierly aspect. His face was
that of a student, with that expression emphasized by the
gold spectacles through which he looked keenly ; those
spectacles were so much a part of him that he was uni-
versaUy known as " Old Spex." As he sat in his office
in his blue uniform, with one leg crossed over the other,
raany a cadet has no doubt wondered how thin those long
legs really were, seeing how close they lay together. His
life had been given up entirely to his work as superin
tendent ; he had traveled abroad to study foreign schools
and secure their best features ; he was author of several
mathematical treatises, as well as a most admirable
teacher. A prominent churchman ; a man of abstemious
habits and boundless industry ; one of the best politicians
in the State, — he knew every man of importance in Vir
ginia, and had the faculty of enlisting the interest of
politicians of all parties in the success of the Virginia
Military Institute. No matter what might be the acrimony
of factions, or the stress of public necessities in other

246 THE END OF AN ERA
directions, his legislative appropriations never failed, and
support of his school never flagged. His tact in man
agement and insight into the character of cadets was
marvelous. His acquaintance with the minutest details
of every department in the school was perfect, and the
personal interest which he manifested in every cadet
intrusted to his care was at once a warning- and a stimu
lus to the boy. He was in truth a very remarkable man ;
his peculiarities were as marked as his excellencies ;
and, wliUe those peculiarities did not seriously detract
from him, they gave him a distinct individuality. A
monument to Colonel Thayer stands in front of the
United States Military Academy, describing him as the
father of the institution. One like it should be reared to
General Smith at the Virginia Military Institute, for to
it he was even more a father than was Thayer to West
Point, or Arnold to Rugby.
Behind those gold spectacles, and with those long,
thin legs lapped over each other, he sat at a table writing
as we entered and stood near the door, caps in hand, at
attention. He seemed engrossed; a moment later, he
lifted his eyes ; squinting a little and peering through his
glasses, he caught sight of us and exclaimed, " Ah-h !
who 's this ? " Louis explained. " Well, young man,
how are you ? Glad to see you. How is your father ?
What have you studied ? How far have you been in
mathematics ? In French ? In Latin ? " And, going
straight at the matter in hand, he plied me with queries
until he knew all that was necessary ; then " Fourth-class
is best for hira," he said.
Soon fixed up by the adjutant, we started for the com
mandant's office across the parade ground. The com
mandant of cadets. Major Scott Shipp, was a large man,
with close-trimmed black hair and beard, a soleran bear-

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 247
ing, and a deep voice. Although he was then but twenty-
four years of age, I thought he was forty. He remained
commandant for nearly thirty years after this, and is now
superintendent. In its fifty-eight years of life, the school
has had but two superintendents. Our business with the
commandant consisted of securing an assignment to a
room and to a company, and attending to some minor
details. Then we reported to my first sergeant, who was
no other than Benjamin Colonna, our roora-raate.
Louis and I found ray trunk at the sallyport, whither
it had been sent from the hotel, and lugged it off to the
arsenal, which stood in the quadrangle, for no trunks
were allowed in rooms. Cadet clothing was kept in a
large wardrobe, placed in each room, divided into com
partments which were assigned to the respective occu
pants. The cadet barracks was a handsome four-storied build
ing, occupying three sides of a quadrangle, with towers
at the corners and at a sallyport with central arch. On
the inner side were three broad stoops running all around
the building, reached by stairways upon the stoops. The
cadet quarters opened upon these stoops. At the turrets,
the rooms were double, occupied in most instances by
tactical officers ; elsewhere, the rooms were single. The
ventilation, light, and heat of the quarters were excellent.
The furniture of each room consisted of a gun-rack,
washstand, wardrobe ; large oak table in the centre of the
room, under a gas-light ; a chair for each cadet, a book
rack and a blacking-stool, beds and bedsteads. Thirty
minutes after reveille, the beds were required to be rolled
up, strapped, and stood in the corner, flanked by the bed
steads folded. Beds could not be put down until after
tattoo. The occupants of the room were alternately de
tailed as orderly for a week, and each was held responsible

248 THE END OF AN ERA
for observance of regulations and for the police of the
room, which was inspected at least twice a day.
On arrival at our rooms, I had a bluff but pleasant
welcome from Colonna, who called me " Mr. Rat," and, as
it was a rule of the Institute that every plebe should be
" bucked," he and Louis proceeded to attend to my case.
A bed-strap was buckled about my wrists ; I was ordered
up on the table and compelled to draw up my knees, over
which my bound arms were slipped ; a ramrod was run
under my knees and over my arms, and then I was rolled
over on my side, and Louis and Colonna, with a bayonet
scabbard, spelled Constantinople. The taps
given by these laughing friends were light, but sufficiently
stinging to make me appreciate what it might have been.
"Now, Rat, you have been bucked," laughed Colonna,
as they set me upright and loosened the cords. " If any
body asks you whether you have been ' bucked,' say,
' Yes, sir ; ' be sure to say sir, d' ye understand ? Then,
if they ask you whose Rat you are, say, 'Mr. Colonna's
rat, sir.' Be sure to say sir, d' ye understand ? And then
you take care to say as little more as you can, for it *s
these long-tongued Rats that get into trouble, d' ye under
stand ? " Yes, I understood. I resolved to keep that
mouth, that has gotten me in trouble all my life, shut
tight. Up to now, I had been agreeably surprised. I expected
that I should be seized upon as soon as I entered the
barracks, but so far I had seen very few cadets about.
I did not realize that it was study -hours, at which time
the cadets were in their class-rooms, or confined to
quarters, and were strictly forbidden to visit, or to loiter
on the stoops or about the archway.
" What is that? " I asked, as a drum was beaten in the
area, its sounds reverberating through the barracks.

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 249
" First drum for dinner," said Louis ; " dinner roU-
call in five minutes," and he, Colonna, and PhiUips began
poHshing their shoes.
"Now, Mr. Rat, if you don't want to be buUy-
agged, you wait under the arch until I give the com
mand, ' Fall in ! ' when the clock strikes, and then run
to your place in ranks in front of barracks. My com
pany is on the left ; I 'U wait, before giving the comraand
' Front,' untU I see you are in ranks, so you will not be
late." This thoughtful advice frora Colonna I obeyed strictly,
so that nobody troubled me. I felt quite proud in ranks,
and answered to my name clearly. The companies were
side-stepped together, and then the first captain assumed
charge, broke the battalion into columns of fours, and
marched us off to the mess-hall. I had never seen a
figure quite so trim, or heard a voice quite so clarion, as
the first captain's. The crunching cadence of the step
of three hundred boys upon the gravel walk would have
raade a muley cow keep step. Tramp, tramp, tramp we
went up the broad stairway of the mess-hall, and, as we
reached the hall, companies filed away to their respective
seats at the eight long tables. When all were in place,
the command " Seats " was given by the first captain, and
in another instant, where all had been silent, it was a
babel of voices. Colonna had his eye on me, and assigned
me a seat ; not up with him, of course, but down at the
foot with some other plebes.
It was a good, hot, smoking meal, better than I ex
pected, and every one of us had a good, hot, smoking
appetite, as was evidenced by the quick disappearance
of the food, and the cries from the heads of tables :
" Beef here, waiter," " Bread here, waiter," " Potatoes
here, waiter," which soon resounded through the halL

250 THE END OF AN ERA
Nobody but the non-commissioned officers, stationed at
the head and foot of the table, could address the waiters.
These later fairly ran in fiUing orders. I found a little
fellow sitting next to me who had only been in a day or
two, and we had some quiet, timid talk between our
selves. " At-ten-tion ! " rang through the hall after twenty-five
minutes consumed in consuming. Dead silence reigned
where everybody had been talking. " Rise up ! " and we
rose, re-formed in front of the raess-hall, were broken into
columns of fours, marched back to barracks, and as the
battalion reached its original position the command came,
" Break ranks, march," which was the signal for a gen
eral mix-up, in a leisure period of thirty minutes which
followed each meal, during which cadets were aUowed
to visit one another's rooms, and dispose of themselves
as they saw fit, until " Study drum " beat. I thought
trouble was in store for me then, for I discovered in the
mess-hall not less than a dozen former acquaintances,
most of whora were old cadets, and they discovered me.
I apprehended that they would have something to say
to me, and, knowing of my recent arrival, might amuse
themselves at my expense ; but it was not so bad as I
expected. Such of them as I met after the corps was
dismissed spoke to rae with civility and passed on. It
was, as I afterwards learned, etiquette in an old cadet ac
quaintance not to torture a plebe whom he had known
elsewhere. Being old cadets, they would not associate
with a plebe, but, unless he was " impudent," they so far
recognized forraer acquaintanceship as to let him alone.
Before I reached the sallyport, however, several
strange, saucy, and piratical-looking young Hessians had
their eyes upon rae, and my relief was very great when
Louis, my guardian angel, carae hurrying down from A

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 251
Company, and with an air of authority said, " Here,
Mr. Rat, you come with rae." His whole manner changed
as soon as we were out of their presence, and he said,
" Those chaps would have drawn you into conversation in
another minute, and then they would have had a lot of
fun out of you."
The perrait to go out of liraits, which Louis had ob
tained ill the raorning, was good until dress parade, and
he proposed that we should go out and about. Before
we left, I learned the meaning of his talk about " buying
apples with my coat." During the half hour after dinner,
a number of raountain women, with bags and baskets of
apples, appeared in front of barracks, and the cadets car
ried on the liveliest imaginable trading with them, ex
changing old clothes for apples.
At West Point, the cadet old clothes are religiously
preserved and sold, and their proceeds are applied to a
mess-fund. The interest on that fund is expended upon
the cadet mess, and the fund has already grown so large
that the character of cadet fare is rauch improved, and
the cost of the mess to cadets is materially reduced.
Think what might have been accomplished at the Vir
ginia Military Institute if this same policy had been
pursued ! Instead of that, for fifty-eight years the cadets
have been allowed to throw away their old clothes in the
most reckless fashion. I have seen many a cadet jacket
traded off for half a peck of apples ; and if a cadet were
reaUy hungry, I think he would trade the coat on his
back for one apple-pie.
That afternoon our stroll took us down to the river,
where the terminus of the canal was located. There
were in those days no railroads running into Lexington.
The stage-coach and this primitive means of travel were
its only public means of communication with the outside

252 THE END OF AN ERA
world. I soon learned where the laundries were, and
where the boys skated in cold weather, and what were
the different points of interest. Louis led me to the
house of an old Irishman who sold cider and cakes to the
cadets, and we regaled ourselves. Then we came back by
the rear way up the stream called the Nile, which runs
behind the Institute grounds, and clambered up the
bluffs and stole around to the bakery where old Judge,
the baker, gave us a hot loaf just drawn from the oven,
it having been cooked for the cadets' supper. Louis
explained that we were out of limits now, as cadets were
forbidden to visit the bakery, and, if caught, received
five demerits and an extra tour of guard duty. The
sensation of disobeying orders was rather pleasant, I
confess. Judge was a wonderful old negro ; he had been
there many years. In appearance, he was a black Sancho
Panza, fat and puffing and jolly ; he was a darkey of
moods. Sometimes his mood was religious, sometimes
it was profane ; but, whether the one or the other, he
was always amusing.
Out of that first introduction grew a long friendship
with Judge, and when he confronted St. Peter, the pile
of bread stacked up against him in Heaven must have
been tremendous ; for every cadet who was at Lexington
in the thirty years of his stewardship received from him
at least ten loaves stolen from the Commonwealth of Vir
ginia. Bless his hot, jolly, fat, black, flour-smirched,
roguish memory! His portrait, with his baker's cap
jauntily tipped, now adorns the cadet raess-hall in the
company of generals and other distinguished citizens
departed. Then we visited old ReiUy, another famous character.
Stone blind, the old feUow earned a good living making
hair mattresses for the cadets. He measured, cut, sewed.

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 253
trimmed, bound, filled, and knotted mattresses as well as
any one could do with the finest eyesight. He was an
ardent politician, and a devoted admirer of ray father.
The old man was always delighted to receive visitors,
and was full of cadet knowledge and reminiscence as
he sat there, blind as a bat, but working like a beaver.
Then we strolled to the regions in rear of the pro
fessors' houses, where Louis showed me, near the bluffs,
in a wooded spot, a sort of natural amphitheatre, which
he described as the " fighting-ground." Seated on the
edge of this depression, he entered on a vivid and thrill
ing description of the last great battle here, which had
taken place between the present first captain, in his third
class year, and another cadet ; it was very interesting.
" But," he said, " of course he would not fight any
more. First and second class men are above fighting.
They fro-wn it down and punish it. Only yearlings like
myself and plebes like you fight, you know."
"Yes," said I; but I did not know any such thing
until he told it to me. Thus we went on, he teaching
and I absorbing like a sponge, all the while having a
suspicion that I might see the " fighting-ground " again
some day. Just then we caught the sound of a drum :
" Rap, rap, rap, — rap, rap, rap, — rap, rap, rap, — rap,
rap, rap, rap, — rap, rap, rap."
Springing to his feet, he exclaimed : " Gracious ! there
is dress parade ; we must run for it." So off we sped,
running by the rear of the professors' houses and scram
bling over the stile, reaching the barracks as the boys
were streaming down the stairways, pulling on their
gloves and arranging their accoutrements. Louis barely
saved his distance, and came tearing through the arch
just as the command, " Fall in ! " was sung out by the
four first sergeants. I went with a squad of plebes, who

254 THE END OF AN ERA
without arms were marched out after the companies and
formed on the left of the battalion.
It was a brave sight when the drums and fifes struck
up (we had no band in those days) ; the colors marched
forth and gave the alignment ; the companies foUowed and
formed on the colors, and the officer in charge put the
battalion through its drill. Then we marched back and
were dismissed. Evening parade, supper, study hours,
tattoo, taps, came in their regular order ; and as I went
to sleep, soon after taps inspection, it was with tbe
thought that this had been one of the most eventful and
delightful days I ever spent.
Reveille ! What part of cadet routine is so well remem
bered as that ? Awakened at crack of dawn from dream
less sleep by the long-drawn notes of fife and drum, our
first serai-conscious impulse was to slumber on, soothed by
the drowsy tune. Not long such thoughts, however ; for,
-with a quick ruffle of the drums, the tune was changed.
A gay and lilting quickstep took its place, crashing up
and down and through the dormitories. Quick, respon
sive lights were twinkling in a hundred rooms, where but
a few moments before all was silence. Three hundred
youngsters were hurrying for the ranks. As if to mock
their haste, the tune changed again, and the music went
floating off once more into dreamland, while the cadets
grew more impetuous in their preparations. Then the
last tune came. This was no sluggard's lullaby. It was
a ringing suraraons to the front, in which the drums
seemed to be trying to drown the air the fifes were piping
gayly. The latest plebe in barracks knew the words : —
" Wake-up-rats-and-come-to Reveille
If-you--want to get-your-corp-orality,
Wake up rats ! Come to Reveille
If you want to get YOUR corporalite-e-e-e-e ! "

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 255
Then, with three long roUs and two final thumps, the
music ceased.
Towards the close of this matin concert, stoops, stairs,
and archway swarmed with hundreds of cadets, half-
awake, huprying to their places in the forming ranks. As
the last laggard whisked through the sallyport, strug
gling to avoid being late, the chill morning air resounded
with the commands of the first sergeants : " Fall in A
Compane-e-e-e ! FaU in B and C and D Compane-e-e-e ! "
Then, after a moment's pause, sergeant after sergeant
gave the command, " Front ! " and away they went, rat
tling off the roUs with surprising noise and speed. Then
came another pause, in which, as the boys stood shiver
ing in the nipping daybreak, the first sergeants spotted
absentees by repeating their names with marvelous and
unerring accuracy.
Ranks broken, the cadets, with heads drawn in and
hands stuck in their waistbands, went back to quarters in
sullen silence, or with deep anathemas upon reveille.
Yet how beautiful it was ! On the eastern face of forest,
peak, and barrack-tower the blush of morning shone,
while aU else was in shadow. Against the glowing east,
the undulating sky-line of the distant Blue Ridge was cut
clear and strong, -with purple shadows filling in the space
between us and them, save where the valley mists were
tipped with morning light. Correggio could not paint nor
Claud attain the limpid high-lights, the clear-obscure, the
deep visible-invisible, of those exquisite autumn day
breaks in the mountains.
Old boys, wherever you may be, have you forgotten
them ?
About them, even then, there was a sentiment, — a sen
timent which deepens as the years roll by. We were
looking upon the shining morning face not only of na-

256 THE END OF AN ERA
ture, but of life also. Yes, in memory the shining morn
ing faces of those schoolboys still live, framed in a setting
of raountain peaks and barrack towers, gilded by the first
faint rays of sunrise.
Thirty minutes after reveille found the plebes assem
bled in squads of three or four, and marched away by
old cadets for awkward-squad exercises upon the parade
ground. DriU until the drum for breakfast dispensed
with aU need of appetizing tonics.
After breakfast, academic exercises not having been
resumed as yet, the squad drills were continued, and far
and wide on the parade the groups of plebes were to be
seen, and the voice of the driU-master was heard.
So far, all had gone weU with me. Beyond some little
chaffing, no old cadet had troubled me, and the squad-
marcher had complimented me on attention and prompt
ness. We were resting. A squad of plebes, moved at double
time, were brought down to where we were standing and
halted near us, by a stocky, aggressive-looking old cadet.
Having ordered a rest, Sprague (that was his name) came
over to speak to our drill-master. " I 'm giving those
Rats thunder ! " said he, pointing to the panting plebes.
And so he was. Instead of practicing his squad in set
ting-up exercises, he was prancing them all over the
parade ground. " What sort of Rats have you got ? "
said he, looking us over in an insolent way. " Oh, a
fair enough lot," said our squad-marcher, an easy-going
but efficient raan. Sprague looked at us keenly, and
asked our names. Sorae look of mine, I presume, or the
fact that I was nearest to him, made him continue his
probing of me, and I was not very civil.
" Why, Mr. Rat, you are impudent," said he. Then,
glancing around to see that the sub-professor in charge

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 257
was not looking, he commanded me to " hold up." That
meant that I was to hold up my hand and let him twist
my arm. By this time I was piping hot, but had sense
enough to keep silent.
" Hold up, sir ! " said he peremptorily.
" Shut up, sir ! " replied I ; and there, all the wise
counsel which Louis and Colonna had given me, and all
the good resolves I had made, were vanished into thin air
with those three words.
" Mr. Rat," said he, drawing close to me, and shaking
his finger in ray face as he hissed the words, " I will at
tend to you as soon as we get back to barracks. I 'U take
some of that rebellious spirit out of you. See if I don't."
I was about to answer him with defiance, when our squad
was called to attention and driU was resumed. It is not
difficult to appreciate that the remainder of that drill was
far from being a period of happiness. All the time, I
was calculating how to receive the attack. FinaUy, I
counted that if I could succeed in reaching our room,
I might take a musket, and defend myself with a bayo
net. Sprague looked like a game one, and I knew that
he would have plenty of backers. When the recall beat,
our squad was near barracks. We went in on double
time, and when the squad was dismissed, I raade a bold
dash for the archway. I thought I was safe, for I had
nearly reached the sallyport ; but when alraost in, I saw
Sprague dismiss his squad and start after me, calling,
" Catch that Rat ! "
Through the arch we sped, and it seemed as if I would
reach our room upon the second stoop, for I was nearly
at the stairway. But ! but ! but I Just at that moment
a tremendous fellow shot like a goshawk from the door I
was about to pass, ana, slipping his right arm about my
waist, nearly lifted me from the ground and held me tight

268 THE END OF AN ERA
as a vise, until Sprague and a dozen others came up. In
furiated beyond all control, I struck out like a clever fellow,
but they bore me straight along, up the steps and into
the first room on the second stoop, and in a jiffy had me
bound and on a table. In another instant I should have
felt the brass ferrule of a bayonet-scabbard administered
without pity. The room was fiUed with cadets, aU bent
on disciplining a rebeUious Rat.
At the very crisis, the crowd near the doorway swayed
back and forth. Some one exclaimed, " Get out of the
way, or I '11 plunge this bayonet into you ! " and Louis
bounded in, with gleaming eyes, his jaws set like a bull-
pup's. Rushing up to Sprague he said, " No, sir ! You '11
not buck that Rat I "
" Yes, I wiU," said Sprague.
" Not unless you can whip me I " was the game reply of
Louis, as he began to slip off his jacket. " I bucked him
yesterday, and I asked Boggess all about what happened
on the parade ground, and he says you provoked and
teased the Rat until you forced him to be impudent. You
shan't touch him." With that he sprang towards me to
unloose the fastenings. The crowd grew agitated. Sprague
made a motion to fight, and in another instant we should
have had a pretty mess, when —
" Rap, rap, rap ! Rap, rap, rap ! " came sharp and
loud upon the door. Everybody knew what it meant!
Somebody, quick as lightning, undid the straps, jerked me
off the table, and stood me on my feet ; and Captain
Semmes, the officer in charge, walked into the room
serenely. With a dignified and inquiring look at the
cadets now crowded back against the walls, he said,
" Gentlemen, what 's aU this disturbance ? "
Louis was slipping on his cadet jacket, and, sidling up
to me, said, " Don't say a word. Whatever you do, don't
peach."

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 259
" What does this all mean, gentlemen ? " repeated the
captain, in louder and more peremptory tones.
Sprague at last spoke up : " Oh, nothing ; I just had
a little misunderstanding with that gentleman there,"
pointing to me.
I was so elated by the unexpected turn things had
taken that my good-nature had returned, and when Cap
tain Semmes turned to me and asked what it aU meant, I
said, " Oh, we were just trying to see who was strongest."
" Go to your rooms, gentlemen, all of you, at once ! "
said Captain Semmes, waiting to see that his orders were
carried out; and then he departed, without seeking too
many explanations, for in his day he had been a terror to
plebes. " Well, Mr. Rat ! " said Louis, when we reached our
rooms, and found fat Colonna sitting there, still wearing
his sword and sash, laughing at our discomfiture, " you
have put your foot in it, sure enough. You have not only
made yourself a target, but I expect that round-shouldered,
long-armed, bull-yearling of a Sprague will beat me to
death about this business."
Then Colonna, who was above the dignity of such
scrapes, but had witnessed my race and capture, nearly
had fits describing how big Wood had seized me, and how
they had turned me upside down going up the steps, and
how I nearly kicked Billy Mason's eye out, and a lot of
other things that did and did not happen ; for Colonna
was a great tease.
Dinner drum was sounded, and I went down, reflecting
that the first twenty-four hours of my military life were
completed. A day or two afterwards, academic studies were re
sumed. With mathematics, Latin, French, and drawing
added to military duties, there was little time for play.

260 THE END OF AN ERA
A half day's holiday on Saturday, during which we
were permitted to leave the Institute limits, gave us but
scant opportunity for diversion. Even the letters of in
troduction I had brought, to the families of some of the
professors, remained undelivered for lack of time.
The winter of 1862-63 was cold enough. While the
army of General Lee was encamped about Fredericks
burg, after a gallant defense of the place, we, " the
seed-corn of the Confederacy," as Mr. Davis called us,
were very comfortably cared for in barracks, which were
heated and lighted as well as if no war had been in
progress. There was no lack of news from the front. An older
brother of Louis had been captured at Roanoke Island,
and, while awaiting exchange, was acting as tactical
officer of A Company, and sub-professor of mathematics.
He was a sober-minded, earnest fellow, always watchful
over us, and he occasionally sent for us to come to his
quarters, that he might advise, or warn, or rebuke us in
an affectionate and considerate way. We were devoted
to him, and prized his good opinion more than that of
anybody else. He bore my father's name, and counted
me as much in his charge as his own brother. By our
access to his quarters opportunity was given us from time
to time to hear a great deal of news from the front, for
never a great battle came off but numbers of Virginia
Military Institute boys were in it, and they seemed to
have a talent for getting killed or wounded. Those from
far Southern States, instead of going to Alabama or
Mississippi or Louisiana during their short leaves, would
corae to the Virginia Military Institute, roora with some
sub-professor of their own class, and assist in teaching,
until sufficiently restored to return to duty.
Captain Henry A. Wise was a universal favorite with

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 261
the, graduates, and his quarters were seldom without some
occupant of the class described above. Everybody con
nected with the Institute had a nicknarae: General
Smith was " Old Spex," Colonel Preston was " Old
Bald," Stonewall Jackson was " Old Jack," General Col
ston " Old Polly," Colonel WiUiarason " Old Tom," Colo
nel GiUiam "Old Gill," and down to the youngest
" sub " all were nicknamed, and seldom referred to save
by their sobriquets. For some reason. Captain Wise was
caUed " Chinook." Nobody knew exactly why. Among
the cadets, every man of prominence had a nickname :
there was " Dad " Wyatt, so called for age, and " Dad "
Nelson for extreme youth, aud " Duck " Colonna for his
short legs, and " BuU " Temple for his strength, and
" Jane " Creighton for his gentleness, and so on, ad in
finitum.. Louis and I escaped naming until a third cadet
of our name arrived. He was an odd fish, a cousin of
both of us, who, while not very studious in things taught
there, had studied " The Adventures of Simon Suggs "
untU he knew them by heart, and quoted them on all
occasions. He soon became known as " Suggs," and the
cognomen spread until all three of us were called " Suggs
J.," " Suggs L.," and " Suggs W.," as if we never had
any other names. One day the corporal of the guard
reported me for noise on the stoop, and inadvertently
entered me on the delinquent list as " Suggs J." The
adjutant knew whom he meant, but reported him for
carelessness. After the battle of Fredericksburg, we heard all about
it in the rooms of " Old Chinook," from men who had
participated in its glories. I forget who they were, but
it was probably " Sheep " Floweree of Mississippi, or
" Bute " Henderson, or " Tige " Hardin, or " Marsh " Mc
Donald, all of whom, at one time or another, turned up

262 THE END OF AN ERA
there. To the outside world, they were colonels and
majors, etc.: at the Virginia Military Institute, they
were " Sheep " and " Bute " and " Tige." Many a day,
out of study hours, from their lips we would drink in
the story of the repulse of Meagher's Irish Brigade at
Marye's Heights, or how Hayes made his stand at Ham
ilton Crossing, or Pender at the railroad, or how Stuart's
Horse Artillery raked Franklin's Corps on the Rappa
hannock flats. Very few boys have had such practical
lessons in the art of war.
Poor " Chinook," who longed for his exchange, and
chafed at the delays which made him miss these battles,
looked dreadfuUy depressed, and as for ourselves, Louis
and I felt it was an outrage that we were penned up
and kept away from these wondrous sights and scenes.
In February, we had a cold, hard freeze ; aU drills
were suspended ; the North River was hard-frozen. At
evening parade on Friday, an order was published an
nouncing that a supply of ice for the following summer
was most desirable ; that, owing to the number of labor
ers who had volunteered, the superintendent was unable
to secure the necessary force to save the ice-crop ; and
that every cadet who would volunteer for Saturday to
work at fiUing the ice-houses of the Institute should have
three afternoons' leave, from dinner to dress-parade, the
following week, for skating. At the caU for volun
teers the corps stepped to the front as one man. Of
course they did ; what better fun than that did anybody
want ?
The next morning, cadets were ordered to put on old
clothes. The companies were divided into working
squads, and marched to the river. We had all the saws,
and axes, and ice-hooks, and slides, and horses we needed.
The strongest men went out and cut the ice ; the smaller

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 263
chaps were worked in teams, with ropes to secure it and
drag it to the wagons. Some of the country boys were
detaUed as teamsters. Squads were stationed at the ice
houses to receive and dump the loads. Fires were built
along- the river banks. Those drowsy country horses
were never pushed so hard, or heard the whips crack so
loudly, as they did that day. We went to work in relays.
" Old Spex " had rations and hot coffee served upon the
river bank. And when the cold sun was sinking in a
red western sky, the corps, its work completely done,
filled with joyous anticipations for the coming week, was
trotting homeward across the bridge at a double-quick,
the happiest, joUiest set of youngsters in the Southern
Confederacy. Then came the skating time. News of our holiday
spread over the town, and aU the pretty girls in Lexing
ton, and many of the citizens, were there to see the
sport. There was no lack of skates ; the arsenal, long since
disappeared, stood in the barracks' quadrangle in those
days. It was the general depository of all the things left
by the cadets who marched to the war in 1861. I fear
little regard was paid to their vested rights. Nearly
every old trunk in that arsenal had by this time been
rifled. Many a cadet jacket and trousers, left there by
some old cadet with the purpose of returning for it some
day, had been " appropriated " long ago, worn out, and
traded off for apples. In cadet morals, this is not steal
ing. The conditions existing there at any time amount
almost to comraunism ; at the period referred to, the
seizure of everything required was justified under the
plea of military necessity. Fortunately, the arsenal was
burned by General Hunter in 1864, so that the absent
cadets who had been robbed of their skates doubtless

264 THE END OF AN ERA
thought their goods were destroyed by fate of war, and
never knew that they had been used by their own com
rades ; else had there been, I fear, after the war, grave
charges against all of us.
Among the debris piled helter-skelter in the arsenal,
after the sundry pickings-over to which its contents had
been subjected, somebody found an old drum-major's
shako, relic of the pomp and panoply of peace times.
The first appearance of this shako in public was on the
head of a long-legged cadet, who wore it in a game of
shinny at our ice carnival. It was not long before a
bandy-stick knocked his shako in the air. That was
suggestion enough. Soon another cadet took a crack at
it, and its wearer, dodging and racing, went streaming
away with fifty fellows foUowing.
Out of this grew a famous game called " tapping the
shako." Whoever was fast enough to catch the wearer,
and tap his shako, becarae entitled to place it on his
head, and wear it until a fleeter-footed skater won it from
him. It was but a little while, of course, before it fell
into the hands of the best skater and most adroit dodger
in the corps ; and then the concentrated energies of a
hundred men to overhaul its owner furnished marvelous
excitement and noble sport. In one of these contests, the
race was prolonged almost, if not quite, to Loch Laird,
five miles down the river. The sport elicited wonderful
displays of endurance, agility, and pluck.
On our last day, we gave an unexpected exhibition.
The weather had moderated, but apparently not enough
to make the ice dangerous. In fact, however, the freeze
had been so sudden that the ice was filled with air-holes.
Our great game had now been regulated, for in its earlier
stages we found that certain cadets, like certain hounds,
instead of running true to the line, would wait for the

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 265
quarry to double and then take a .short cross-cut upon him.
So we staked the centre of the river, and forced every
man to follow the course if he claimed a touch. This
afternoon, a great crowd of spectators was assembled ; we
had had a glorious breakaway, and the old black shako, on
the head of some fleet-footed fellow, went whirling down
the river with the pack in full cry, the crowds on the
banks delighted. For a little while the chase disappeared,
and then carae back on the near side of the streara,
but out towards the centre. The boys were well bunched ;
not less than six or eight were close upon the leader.
The race grew intensely exciting ; some men on horse
back were galloping along the bank. The women were
waving their handkerchiefs and clapping their hands
with delight.
The closest foUower raade a fine burst of speed, had
raised his stick to tap the shako, when crash went the ice,
and both men disappeared, the old black shako alone
remaining in sight floating on the water. A wail and
screams went up from the shore. One after another of
those in hot pursuit plumped into the hole before they
could check their headway, and in another moment six
or eight of the best feUows in the corps were floundering
in the deep water, the ice at the edges breaking under
them at each attempt they made to scramble out. Then
came an instance of the power of discipline.
A number of us smaller boys had not followed the
chase ; as soon as we saw the accident, we hurried towards
the scene. No doubt further misfortune would have be
fallen us, but for the cool-headed behavior of Sam
Shriver, a second-class man. Darting up like a general,
his towering figure caught all eyes as he said, " Atten
tion ! " All was silence.
"Where are the safety ropes?" he demanded. We

266 THE END OF AN ERA
had had thera all the time until now ; now, when we
needed them most, they were gone, of course. He never
paused a second.
Looking to the hole he cried, " Hold fast, boys. Don't
exhaust yourselves. I 'U have you out in a moment."
They were making a fearful splutter in the hole,
some calling for help, some swearing, some grunting, aud
one, as we afterwards heard, praying. What frightened
Louis and myself most was that we saw dear old Colonna
and Dad Nelson in there.
Turning to us, Shriver said, " Form a line — quick ! "
It was formed, consisting of about fifty men.
" Let the far end of the line get well ashore," said he,
and it was there in a jiffy. " SmaU men in front," and
small men came to the front. That put Louis and myself
well to the front.
" Lock -wrists," cried Sam, and each of us seized the
wrist of the man in front of and behind us, and he ours ;
we stretched out.
" Advance to hole," said he. " Ten front fUes lie
down. Rear files shove away," said he, as soon as we
were down.
" Louis, we 're in for it," said I.
" Yes, I know," he replied. " We 'U probably break
in, but if we connect with them, the rear men will pull us
all out together." So they shoved us over the ice on our
stomachs until the front man reached the nearest fellow
in the hole, and the man behind him fastened to him,
and so on until all were firmly clutched together. When
all those in the hole were fast to each other firmly, Sam
gave command, " Haul away slowly ! "
As the rear men began to move backward, out came
the first man from the hole, and the next and the next,
and then their weight broke the ice and we all went down

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 267
together, but were still moving shoreward, while Shriver
called to us not to let our hold break. Thus dragged,
we soon reached the sound ice, and man after man came
up and out of the water untU all were saved, by the
promptness of gallant Sam Shriver, who became the lion
of the hour. Men never hugged each other's wrists raore
tightly than did we that day, and the prints of fingers
were so deep on my wrists I thought the blood would
start from them.
Cold ? It was fearful ! " Old Spex " had witnessed it
aU. " Double-quick those men to barracks, Mr. Shriver,"
said he ; "I 'U ride forward to the hospital and have hot
grog served to them when they are well rubbed down.
You know I am a temperance advocate, but this is medi
cine. Look out there for little Nelson and Barton ; they
are nearly frozen." With that he managed to spur his fat
sorrel to a clumsy trot, and we went jogging back to bar
racks, warm enough by the time we reached there, but
not averse to the china mugs of steaming whiskey and
ginger which were served frora a tin bucket by the
hospital steward. Nobody was the worse for it. Is it
not surprising what youngsters of that age can stand ?
The spring of 1863 opened, and with it began the hard
work, first in corapany and then in battalion drill. Be
sides this, the period of examinations was approaching. I
had been neither studious nor soldierly, and now, after
the severe driUs, it was difficult to bring one's self down
to the hard study necessary to pass examinations. More
than once during this springtime of 1863, the corps had
lost valuable time from study in attending the burial of
distinguished officers, — first, a Captain Davidson, who
had fallen with great distinction ; then General Paxton,
a resident of Lexington ; and lastly carae an announce
ment which fell like a pall upon the school.

268 THE END OF AN ERA
StonewaU Jackson was dead ! Could it be possible ?
We had believed that he bore a charmed life. The Insti
tute had sent a host of magnificent officers to the front.
There were Rhodes, Mahone, Lindsay, Walker, the Pat-
ton brothers. Lane, Crutchfield, McCausland, Colston,
and many others of lower rank ; but " Old Jack " was,
"from his shoulders and upwards, tallest among the
people," in the estimation of the cadets. His career had
not only been surpassingly brilliant, but it was altogether
surprising. Of the old Presbyterian stock of the vaUey, his people
had not much social prominence, and he had gone to
West Point without particular advantages. After faith
ful but not exceptional service in Mexico, he had resigned
from the army and assumed a professorship here. His
presence was not striking, his manners were not attrac
tive, and his habits were so eccentric that he had not
ranked high as a professor ; even at the time of his most
astonishing victories, and when any cadet there would
have given all he possessed to be with him, the stories
of " Old Jack's " eccentricities raade daily sport for the
cadets. For example, it was a famous joke how, when he had
been drilling the third class in light artillery, with the
plebes as horses, the boys had drawn the linchpins from
the cannon wheels, and, as the guns made the turn near
the parapet, the wheels had come off and sent the pieces
tumbling over the slope. When this would happen, as
it often did. Major Jackson would gaUop up, look ruefully
down the slope, and remark, without the slightest suspi
cion : " There must be something defective in the con
struction of these linchpins ; they seem inclined to fly out
whenever the pieces in rapid motion change direction."
He was not very friendly with General Smith ; it was

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 269
said that he would have nothing to do with him, except
officially. Professors were required to make their weekly
report to the superintendent at four o'clock Friday after
noon. It was told of " Old Jack " that Friday afternoon,
within a few minutes of four o'clock, he would appear
in front of the superintendent's office and walk up and
down until the clock struck four. It made no difference
whether it was raining, hailing, snowing, or freezing, he
would not enter until the clock struck ; then, with mili
tary precision, he would advance to the office of the super
intendent, salute, lay his report upon the table, face
about, and walk out. It was also related that during the
recitations he was frequently occupied in rubbing one
side of hiraself, under the impression, confided to a select
few, that one side of his body was not so well nourished
as the other, and was gradually wasting away.
When the cadet corps, in the spring of 1861, was
ordered to Camp Lee at Richmond, and its raerabers were
put to drilling recruits, it is safe to say that as little was
expected of Colonel Jackson as of any meraber of the
faculty. Nobody suspected the great railitary genius, the
untiring energy, the marvelous resourcefulness, the thirst
ing fury, which lurked beneath that impassive and eccen
tric exterior.
But when the story of Manassas carae, and men learned
that the day was saved by Jackson, standing like a stone
wall ; when, in his independent command, he fought and
won the battles of the valley campaign ; when, in the
seven days' fighting at Richmond, he threw himself upon
the flank of McClellan ; and as he went on and on, mount
ing ever upward, until he became Lee's right arm, — then
the men who had known him only as an odd professor
forgot his idiosyncrasies, and exulted that our school had
furnished the paladin of the Confederacy.

270 THE END OF AN ERA
It was a bitter, bitter day of mourning for all of us
when the corps was marched down to the canal terminus
to meet all that was mortal of Stonewall Jackson. We
had heard the name of every officer who attended the
reraains. With reversed arms and muffled drums we bore him
back to the Institute, and placed him in the section-room
in which he had taught. There the body lay in state
until the following day. The lilacs and early spring
flowers were just blooming. The number of people who
came to view him for the last time was immense : men
and women wept over his bier as if his death was a per
sonal affliction ; then I saw that the Presbyterians could
weep like other folks. The flowers piled about the coffin
hid it and its form from view. I shall ever count it a
great privilege that I was one of the guard who, through
the silence of the night, and when the crowds had de
parted, stood watch and ward alone with the remains of
the great " StonewaU."
Next day, we buried him with pomp of woe, the cadets
his escort of honor : with minute-guns, and toUing bells,
and most impressive circumstance, we bore him to his
rest. But those ceremonies were to me far less impressive
than walking post in that bare section-rocfra, in the still
hours of night, reflecting that there lay all that was left
of one whose name still thrilled the world.
The burial of Stonewall Jackson made a deep im
pression upon the corps of cadets. It had been our
custom, when things seemed to be going amiss in the
army, to say, " Wait until ' Old Jack ' gets there ; be
will straighten matters out." We felt that the loss was
irreparable. The cold face on which we had looked
taught us lessons which have been dropped from the
curriculum in these tame days of peace.

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 271
Many a cadet resolved that he would delay no longer
in offering his services to his country, and, although the
end of the session was near at hand, several refused to
reraain longer, and resigned at once.
The session of 1862-63 was drawing rapidly to a close.
Louis and I both became alarmed about passing our
examinations, he to pass to the second class and I to the
third. I had nearly the limit of demerits, for besides
other weaknesses, I had developed a love affair uptown
with a pretty little Presbyterian, and, being caught out
of limits, had been confined to barracks, and assigned
to several extra tours of guard duty. At last the event
ful 4th of July arrived, the day on which the gradu
ating class receives its diplomas and class standings, and
cadet officers for the ensuing year are announced ; it is
also the day when the band plays " Auld Lang Syne," at
hearing which a rat becomes an old cadet.
When the announcements were read out, Louis and I
found that we had passed our classes fairly well, but
far from brilliantly ; when it came to publishing commis
sioned officers from the new first class, our old friend and
room-mate, Colonna, moved up to second captain. To
our agreeable surprise, Louis received a good sergeant's
appointment. I was left a private ; I deserved it. All
those most interested in me had warned me such would
be the result if I pursued my trifling, heedless course ;
and now I stood chagrined and crestfaUen, while others
received the honors. Nevertheless, I acknowledged to
myself that it was just, and swallowed whatever disap
pointment I felt, inwardly resolving, however, that next
year should tell a different tale.
Those familiar with the history of that period wUI not
forget that on this 4th of July, 1863, when we were
engrossed with these petty concerns, the great battle of

272 THE END OF AN ERA
Gettysburg was being fought, and the surrender of Vicks
burg was taking place.
A few days before the final ceremonies, we had gone
into camp for the summer in a grove in rear of the super
intendent's house : there we remained for two months,
chiefly engaged in drilling the new cadets. It was a
stupid period for the graduates, and several of the sub-pro
fessors had departed for the war, and many of the second-
class men had received furloughs. The monotony of
camp life was broken in the latter part of August, when
we were given an arduous march to Covington to meet
a raiding party frora West Virginia under General Aver
ill ; but the general had displayed great good sense, as we
thought, by going elsewhere before our arrival.
The 1st of September, we broke camp, returned to bar
racks, and resumed academic duties with great earnest
ness. I keenly realized the advantages lost by the trifling of
my first year, and, in the long periods for reflection in
camp, had fully determined to prove myself a better stu
dent and soldier than I had yet been. It is well enough
to have people laugh at one's reckless escapades and fool
ish antics, but those things count against a fellow when
it comes to choosing the boys who have the sterling stuff
in them.
Our old and tried mentor Colonna, being now an offi
cer, had gone to live with his own classmates in a tower
room. Louis and I, in solemn conclave, selected as our
room-raates " Squirrel " Overton, " Jack " Stanard, and a
little rat named Harris, a cousin of Overton. In these
we felt we had an earnest set of room-mates, and we re
solved that there was to be no more skylarking, no more
defiance of discipline, and a strictly moral and studious
aggregation. Then came the sultry June days, when it

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 273
was work, work, work at books preparing for examina
tions, and drill, driU, drill in the school of the battalion.
From reveille until four o'clock P. M., we were in the
section-room reciting, or studying in our quarters on re
view. At four o'clock, the battalion was formed for drill,
and exercised in the hot sun, until time for dress parade,
in every intricate manoeuvre. More than one little fellow
fell exhausted from the intense strain, and every cadet
in the corps was longing for the time when our arduous
apprenticeship would end.
One hot, steaming evening, Charley Faulkner, Phillips,
and I sat in an open window which overlooked the parade
ground. It was during the half hour of leisure after
dinner, — the only leisure time that was left to us. The
parade ground shimmered with the noonday heat. Not a
leaf of the guard-tree was shaken by the slightest breeze.
We were commiserating each other at the sweltering pro
spect of two hours' drill in a tight-fitting uniform under
the rays of such a sun.
" It 's brutal," exclaimed Faulkner. " It 's enough to
kill a man." We all called each other " men."
"Yes," said Phillips, "somebody will be sunstruck.
Poor little Jefferson fainted yesterday, and to-day is
worse." " Then why don't you faint, Reuben ? " said I. " Char
ley and I wiU bring you off the field, and that wiU give us
all a rest."
" I '11 ' cut ' with you two fellows which shall faint,"
said Reuben. All matters of lot were decided by opening
a book, and the second letter, second line, left-hand page,
decided the matter : " a " was best, and " z " was worst.
Down came the book, and Reuben cut the lowest letter ;
so it feU to him to faint, and to us to bring hira off the
field. When the driU-drum beat that afternoon, we fell

274 THE END OF AN ERA
in line with Reuben between us. As the company was
divided into platoons, we came near being separated, for
Faulkner was last man in our platoon. Breaking the
battalion into column of platoons, Shipp marched us to
the drill grounds. Oh, it was hot, — hot enough to dis
arm suspicion at anybody's fainting.
Through aU the evolutions we went, — " Right of com
pany's rear into column ; " " Close column by divisions
on second division, right in front ; " " To the rear by the
right flank, pass the defile," and what not. The fUe-
closers were so near to us we could not talk. All we
could do was to nudge Reuben, and we began to think he
would never faint.
At last Shipp trotted his great gray horse to the flank
of the battalion, and gave the command, " Forward into
line, — forward double time, — march." The perspira
tion was streaming from us.
"Now, if ever, Reuben," I whispered, as we started off;
and, sure enough, Reuben made a feint of stumbling, his
gun pitched forward from his shoulder, and he threw
himself forward in as beautiful a faint as ever was feinted.
" Help him there, Faulkner and Wise," said the left
guide, as the battalion swept on ; and Charley and I bent
over him -with infinite tenderness and concern. We were
about to pass some congratulations, when I looked up and
saw Shipp galloping, warning PhiUips. That gave him
aU the pallor he needed.
" Who is that man ? " said the major.
"Phillips, sir," said Faulkner and myself, rising and
saluting. " Is he seriously iU ? "
" No, sir, hope not, — seems to be overcome by heat."
" Eh ! take him to barracks and summon the surgeon,"
said he, and, roweling the old gray, he gaUoped back to

A NEW PHASE OF MILITARY LIFE 275
the command. He did not order us to return, so Master
Faulkner and I remained in barracks to nurse the invalid,
after making a brave show of his helplessness as we
assisted him across the plain. In barracks, we at once
began business. Faulkner hurried to the hospital for a
bucket of ice for the invalid. A happy thought struck
me. I stole around behind Colonel Williamson's, and
milked his cow into our drinking-pail. We three then
sat up in a quiet room, drinking iced milk, watching the
battalion drill.
It was all very well untU next evening parade, when we
heard ourselves reported for not returning to ranks, and,
in spite of some very plausible excuses given to the com
mandant, five more demerits were added to our already
overflowing score. The story of our ruse was all over bar
racks, and I have always thought it had reached Shipp's
ears. Whether it did or not, I had by this time, and in many
ways, become known to the superintendent and command
ant as mixed up in, and capable of, any sort of prank or
dereliction which took place, — a reputation by no means
enviable, let me assure you.

CHAPTER XVIII
A HUNT AND ALMOST A LICKING
That was a great flight of wild pigeons in the Brushy
Hills in the autumn of 1863, and nobody ever before saw
so raany squirrels there. Louis and I had been behaving
well. Our class standing was good, and our conduct
exemplary. We found it easy now to secure special permits, and
for privileges were content to apply on Fridays for leave
of absence from Saturday dinner roU-call. This gave
us substantially all day for hunting. General Philip St.
George Cocke, a wealthy patron of the school, had pre
sented to it a stand of small smooth-bore muskets, which
we found to be excellent fowling-pieces.
At this period of the war, no shot were purchasable in
stores. The devices to which we resorted to provide shot
may be interesting. Our lead we obtained from the roof
of an unoccupied outhouse. In our earlier efforts, we beat
the lead into thin sheets, then cut it into narrow strips,
then cross-cut the strips into cubes. These we rolled be
tween two drawing-boards until the pellets were approxi
mately round. That method proving slow, we shifted to
another. We obtained a piece of sheet tin, which we
perforated with small nail-holes. To this sheet of tin we
attached a long handle. Then we secured a brazier with
some charcoal and a ladle. With this outfit we heated
the lead on the brazier. When it was thoroughly melted,
one man poured it slowly from the spoon upon the sheet

A HUNT AND ALMOST A LICKING 277
of tin, while the other shook the tin gently over a bucket
of water. The lead dropped into the water in little glob
ules, through the perforations of the tin. When the
operation was complete, we had shot shaped like exclama
tion-points. All that remained was to cut off their tails,
and this we did with a patience and perseverance worthy
of a more important cause. The shot were heavier than
those we buy in stores, and very deadly in their effects.
One Friday night in October, 1863, we had obtained
a permit to be absent next day from breakfast roU-caU
until dress parade. We had been so pressed with aca
demic and military duties that we had not manufactured
our supply of shot. Conic sections, Livy, and surveying
had me in their grip, and Louis was wrestling with cal
culus and engineering. Something must be done, or our
hunt, so cherished in anticipation, would fall to the ground.
True, we were now good boys, but we had not been such
so long that our old tricks were forgotten. In the busy
days preparatory to examinations, a favorite method of
studying out of hours had been to wait until after taps
inspection, affix blankets around the sides of the square
oaken table, and, crawling under the table with a candle,
to study there for an hour or two. To-night we resolved
to utilize that device.
It is providential that the fumes of the charcoal in the
brazier did not smother us both. It was close quarters
under there. With brazier, bucket, and lead spoon, Httle
room was left for the workmen ; but we made famous
progress. Our legs stuck out under the blankets, and
now and again we would pull out, or, so to speak, come to
the surface, and have a breathing spell. Oblivious of aU
else, and unable to hear outside sounds, we had nearly
finished our task, when " Rap, rap, rap ! " came the knock
of an inspector upon our door. We blew out the light.

278 THE END OF AN ERA
and drew our legs inside, but the brazier sent forth a
ruddy glow which betrayed us.
" Who is orderly here ? " asked the voice of a sub-
professor. We crawled up, red and begrimed. " What
does this aU mean ? " said he.
We mumbled out some explanations. " The sentinel
has been ordering lights out in this roora for five min
utes," said he sternly. I glanced at the confounded blan
kets, and saw that the corner of one of them had been
sagged by our scrambling about, so that an aperture was
left, through which a beam of light went straight out the
glass doorway and shone upon a pillar of the stoop, mak
ing a flaring signal. Coming into barracks late, the offi
cer had seen it, and this visit was the result of our calm
disregard of repeated cries of "Lights out in 28," which
cries we had not heard.
" Take that fire out and extinguish it. Open the win
dows, and let out these poisonous gases. It is a mercy
you are not smothered to death, and that the barracks
have not been set on fire," said the officer, as he departed.
On Monday morning, we answered to the following re
ports : " Lights up after taps ; repeated disobedience of
orders in failing to extinguish lights ; introducing fire
into barracks." We expected about ten demerits each,
to say nothing of extra tours and confinement to limits.
But my troubles were not ended with this episode. The
quartermaster's store was only opened upon Saturday
after breakfast. It was essential that both of us should
have certain things from the store in the morning before
starting on our hunt. With pass-books in hand, the cadets
who sought supplies formed in line, and were admitted to
the store in the order of their arrival. That we might
leave as early as possible, Louis and I cast lots to decide
which should remain from breakfast with the pass-books

A HUNT AND ALMOST A LICKING 279
and get near the store door. The one who went to break
fast was to bring the other man's meal buttoned in the
breast of his jacket. The lot to remain feU to me. When
Louis carae back from breakfast, he found a very dam-
aged-looking comrade in our room ; and this is how it all
came about : —
The store was on the fourth stoop, in a large room over
the archway. Only six or eight boys had remained from
breakfast. I was fourth or fifth in line. In front of me
were three plebes and an old cadet. While waiting, a
quarrel arose between the old cadet and the plebes about
their respective places in Hne. The old cadet insisted
that they should let him enter first, and they refused. It
was a cold, gray morning, and none of us were in pleasant
humor at being kept standing there shivering during the
long delay. The grumbling went on between them until
at last the old cadet punched the little fellow in front of
him in the ribs, and butted him with his knees, until he
began to cry. The boy's name was Logan. He was no
match for his antagonist. It was a mean piece of bully
ing, and such as no old cadet had the right to indulge in.
The old cadet had been there two years already, having
been found deficient the previous July ; so that, while
we were both now third-class men, he had been an old
cadet when I was a plebe. Our class relations had
been friendly enough, and at last I ventured to remon
strate in a concilatory way with hira about his cruelty to
Logan. To ray surprise, he wheeled about and said : " What
have you got to do with it ? Maybe you want to take the
rat's part. Ever since you came here, you have been that
way." This was not true, for I had been a terror to
plebes in camp.
" No," I protested, still good-tempered. " But you

280 THE END OP AN ERA
have no right to take his place in line, and he is too small
to defend himself."
" You 're a liar ! " he blurted out.
" Don't say that," said I. " You and I are friends.
You don't raean it, and wiU be sorry when you are cool."
" Yes, I do mean it ! " shouted he. " You are a liar ;
and you sneaked out of the first row you got into when
you came here."
He proceeded no further in that story. I popped him
in the eye with the best left-hander I could plant ; and at
it we went, like a pair of jack-snappers, the plebes dancing
about in wonder. He had a great reach. He fetched
me several very substantial cracks. Nevertheless, tbe
first blow I hit him gave me a decided advantage, and I
succeeded in closing with him and getting his head in
chancery. Thus holding him, I punched his nose and
eyes and mouth in fine form ; but, in spite of all I could
do, I felt his long, sinewy arm steal up my back, and his
fingers close with a choking grip upon my collar. Hug 1
I hugged his head with all my might and main, as he
tugged to extricate himself.
" Stop that noise on fourth stoop ! " shouted the sentry
in the area, tirae and time again ; but we were too busy
to pay attention to his commands. We were panting like
two young bucks with locked horns. Renewing the
whacking at his head under my arm, I asked, " Have you
got enough ? " I knew he did not have enough. Still I
thought it would do no harm to inquire.
" No ! " roared he ; " I '11 give you enough before this
thing is over." With that I slung him around and tried
to throw him ; but his bow-legs seemed set as firmly as
the towers of the arch. I not only found that he could
stand punishment, but that he had the advantage of me
in wind.

A HUNT AND ALMOST A LICKING 281
The sentinel shouted for the officer of the day, and the
two commanded, " Stop that noise in barracks ! " as if
their throats would burst. At last, with a supreme effort,
he dragged himself out from under my arm, whirled me
about, seized me by the hair with both hands, dashed
me down to ray knees, bumped my head upon the frozen
oak planks, and kicked rae in the face. I saw a thousand
stars. The poor little rats were almost frantic.
" Got enough, eh? " said he ironicaUy, as, panting from
his triumphant efforts, he planted me a savage uppercut
under the arm with which I was trying to protect my face.
" Maybe you 've got enough now ? "
" Not much ! " said I, trying to tear loose from his grip
on my hair ; but down I went again, for he overmatched
me. Whack, thump, bang ! he began afresh. I 'm glad
I don't have to tell how that fight ended. Thank heaven,
it did n't end. Just as matters seemed growing desper
ate, the officer of the day, with jangling sword, came
bounding up the stairway three steps at a time, and,
rushing to where we were clinched, he caught us in the
coUars and snatched us apart. Holding us at arm's length,
and looking at us covered with blood, he commanded the
peace, and ordered us to our rooms.
My adversary walked sulkily away. He was no beauty.
He had a bulging eye like a crab, and some of his teeth
were very loose. But I ? My ! oh, my ! but I was a
physical wreck. My jacket, where I held his head so
long, was fairly soaked with gore. Two or three buttons
were torn off, and my coUar was under one ear. The
toe of his shoe had raked off about an inch of skin from
the ridge of my nose. A knot as large as a pigeon's egg
was on my forehead, and the last I saw of him he was
picking my hair off his fingers.
" Carried almost too many guns for you, did n't he ? "

282 THE END OF AN ERA
said Shafer, the officer of the day, as we descended to
gether. With a sickly grin, I answered, " I don't know. I
was doing my best. But I 'm mighty glad you came,
Shafer." Then the kind fellow, who evidently sympathized with
my side of the story, went with me to the room aud
helped me wash up and preen my badly ruffled plumage.
About this time, we heard the tramp of the corps return
ing- ; and Louis, who had heard some rumors at the arch
way, rushed up to know what it was aU about.
" Here, take the pass-books. Hurry, and you '11 get in
line in tirae. I broke up the waiting line," said I.
" Are you able to go ? " asked he.
" Of course I am. I 'U go to the hospital with the sick-
list and get my nose patched by the time you finish at the
store. Hurry ! " So off he darted, and I feU in at sick-
call. Thirty minutes later, we were scampering across the
hills with our guns, — I slightly disfigured by a long
patch of adhesive plaster on my nose, and wearing my
cap well back, to avoid contact with that pigeon egg on
my forehead.
And a great day we had of it. As if to compensate us
for our tribulations, we struck a flight of pigeons and
found numbers of squirrels. In fact, we kiUed so many
that we found it necessary to sling our game upon a pole,
whieh we bore between us on our shoulders. When we
appeared in barracks, in ample time for dress-parade, we
were the envy of the corps. We sent a nice bunch of
game to the superintendent's wife. Considering the great
nuraber of delinquencies for which we were to make an
swer Monday morning to the commandant, we seriously
debated whether it would be counted as " boot-licking,"
if we sent some of our game to the officers' mess. " Boot-

A HUNT AND ALMOST A LICKING 283
licking," or seeking favor with officers, was looked upon
as a heinous crime in our code of deportment. However,
as old Chinook belonged to the officers' mess, we con
cluded to let them have a few. Then we secured permit
for private breakfast in the mess-hall Sunday morning,
and to visit old Judge at the kitchens to deliver our
game and raake preliminary arrangements.
With invitations sent to a few to our choice syraposium
next morning, the day's work was complete. We made
no effort that night, rest assured, to keep lights up after
taps. We carae out of our troubles better than we expected.
Shipp possessed excellent good sense in dealing with
cadets. He rather sympathized with our venial struggles
to provide ourselves with amraunition, and did not punish
us severely, but warned us against fetching fire into bar
racks. Shafer, the cadet officer, who raight have raade it
go hard with my foeinan and myself, saw him, told him
he was wrong, raade hira come and apologize to me, and
after that he and I were good friends. And last, but
not least, little Rat Logan, whose pretty sister I had vis
ited in their home at " Dungenness " upon the James,
memory of whose charms had probably made me take his
part, came grinning around to our quarters to teU us he
had a box from home. He said it was poor pay for the
punishment I had got in his behalf. I suggested that he
invite my antagonist also ; but he swore he should not
have as much as a wishbone from his turkey. We made
short shrift of Logan's box. With bayonets we ripped
it open. Its stores of turkey, ham, biscuits, pickles, pre
serves, and what not were soon spread before us.
The best simile descriptive of cadets around a box
from home is that of feeding a kennel of hounds. With
undisguised impatience they watch the display of food.

284 THE END OF AN ERA
With frank gluttony they fall upon it. With pop-eyed
satiety they turn away only when all is consumed. And
then they lie about in semi-comatose condition, refusing
to attend meals until nature relieves itself of overloading.
Another piece of good luck was in store for me. I had
kept the pledge about demerits, and stood well at the Jan
uary intermediate examinations. One evening at dress
parade, I had the unspeakable joy of hearing myself an
nounced as a corporal, " vice Vaughan, resigned." Those
chevrons were very stimulating. I even remembered that
Napoleon had once been a corporal.

CHAPTER XIX
THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE
In the spring of 1864, 1 was stiU a cadet at the Virginia
Military Institute. "Unrest" is the word to describe
the feeling pervading the school.
Rosser's brigade had wintered in Rockbridge, but a few
miles from the Institute. Lexington and the Institute
were constantly visited by Rosser, his staff, and the offi
cers of his brigade. They brought us in touch with the
war, and the world beyond, more than anything else we
had seen. They jangled their spurs through the arch
way, laughed loudly in the officers' quarters, and rode off
as if they carried the world in a sling. In March, they
broke camp, and came ambling, trotting, galloping, pran
cing past the Institute, their mounted band playing,
their little guidons fluttering, bound once more to active
duty in the lower valley. Before their departure. General
Rosser presented a captured flag to the corps of cadets.
His escort on the occasion was decked with leaves of
mountain laurel, the evergreen badge which the brigade
had adopted. We felt ashamed of having flags captured
for us by others. When the Laurel Brigade took its de
parture, many a cadet followed it longingly with eyes and
heart. Then, too, we heard that Grant had been transferred to
command in the East ; and we aU knew that there would
be great fighting at the front. Many cadets resigned.
Good boys became bad boys for the express purpose of

286 THE END OF AN ERA
getting " shipped," parents and guardians having refused
to permit them to resign.
The stase-coaches for the railroad stations at Goshen
and Staunton stopped at the sallyport on nearly every
trip to take on cadets departing for the front.
Many a night, sauntering back and forth on the sentry-
beat in front of barracks, catching the sounds of loud talk
and laughter from the officers' quarters, or pondering upon
the last joyous squad of cadets who had scrambled to tbe
top of the departing stage, my heart longed for the camp,
and I wondered if my time would ever corae. I was now
over seventeen, and it did seem to me that I was old
enough. The proverb saith, " All things come to him who waits."
It was the 10th of May.
Nature bedecked herself that springtime in her loveliest
garb. Battalion drill had begun early, and the corps had
never been more proficient at this season of the year.
The parade ground was firm and green. The trees
were clothed in the fuU livery of fresh foliage. The sun
shone on us through peUucid air, and the light breath of
May kissed and fluttered our white colors, which were
adorned with the face of Washington.
After going through the mancEuvres of battalion drill,
the corps was drawn up, near sundown, for dress parade.
It was the time of year when townsfolk drove down, and
ranged themselves upon the avenue to witness our brave
display ; and groujjs of girls in filmy garments set off with
bits of color came tripping across the sod ; and children
and nurses sat about the benches at the guard-tree.
The battalion was put through the manual. The first
sergeants reported. The adjutant read his orders. The
fifes and drums played down the line in slow time, and
came back with a jolly, rattling air. The officers ad-

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 287
vanced to rausic and saluted. The sun sunk beyond the
House Mountain. The evening gun boomed forth. The
garrison flag fell lazily from its peak on the barracks'
tower. The four companies went springing homeward at
double tirae to the gayest tune the fifes knew how to play.
Never in aU its history looked Lexington more beautiful.
Never did sense of secluded peacefulness rest more
soothingly upon her population. In our leisure time after
supper, the cadets stroUed back and forth from barracks
to the limits gate, and watched the fuU-orbed moon lift
herself over the raountains. Perfume was in the air,
silence in the shadows. Well might we quote : —
" How beautiful this night I
The balmiest sigh that vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear
Were discord to the speaking quietude t
That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven's ebon vault,
Bestudded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded
Splendor rolls, seems like a canopy which
Love hath spread, to shelter its
Sleeping world."
And so, tranquil, composed by the delightful scenes
around us, three hundred of us closed our eyes and passed
into the happy dreams of youth in springtime.
Hark ! the drums are beating. Their throbbing bounds
through every corner of the barracks, saying to the
sleepers, " Be up and doing." It is the long roll.
Long roll had been beaten several times of late, some
times to catch absentees, and once for a fire in the town.
Grumblingly the cadets hurried down to their places in
the ranks, expecting to be soon dismissed and to return
to their beds. A group of officers, intently scanning by
the light of a lantern a paper held by the adjutant, stood
near the statue of George Washington, opposite the arch.
The companies were marched together. The adjutant

288 THE END OF AN ERA
commanded attention, and proceeded to read the orders in
his hands.
They announced that the enemy in heavy force was ad
vancing up the Shenandoah vaUey; that General Lee
could not spare any forces to meet him; that General
Breckinridge had been ordered to assemble troops from
southwestern Virginia and elsewhere at Staunton ; and
that the cadets should join him there at the earliest prac
ticable moment. The corps was ordered to march, with
four companies of infantry and a section of artillery, by
the Staunton pike, at break of day.
First sergeants were ordered to detail eight artiUerists
from each of the four companies, to report for duty im
mediately, and man a section of artillery.
As these^orders were announced, not a sound was heard
from the boys who stood there, with beating hearts, in the
military posture of parade rest.
" Parade 's dismissed," piped the adjutant. The ser
geants side-stepped us to our respective company parades.
Methinks that even after thirty-three years I once more
hear the gamecock voices of the sergeants detailing their
artillery and ammunition squads, and ordering us to ap
pear -with canteens, haversacks, and blankets at four A. M.
Still sUence reigned. Then, as company after company
broke ranks, the air was rent with wild cheering at the
thought that our hour was come at last.
Elsewhere in the Confederacy, death, disaster, disap
pointment may have by this time chilled the ardor of
our people, but here, in this little band of fledgelings,
the hope of battle flamed as brightly as on the morning
of Manassas. •
We breakfasted by candle-light, and filled our haver
sacks from the mess-hall tables. In the gray of morning,
we wound down the hiU to the river, tramped heavily

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 289
across the bridge, ascended the pike beyond, cheered the
fading turrets of the school ; and sunrise found us going
at a four-mile gait to Staunton, our gallant Httle battery
rumbling behind.
We were every way fitted for this kind of work by our
hard drilling, and marched into Staunton in the afternoon
of the second day, showing little iU effects of travel.
Staunton, sraall as it is, seemed large and cosmopolitan
after our long confinement. As we marched past a female
school, every window of which was filled with pretty girls,
the fifes were laboring away at " The Girl I Left Behind
Me." There was no need for the girls to cry, " Fie !
fie ! " at such a suggestion. Not one of us were thinking
of the girls we left behind us. The girls we saw before
us were altogether to our liking.
We found a pleasant camping ground on the outskirts
of the town, and thither the whole population flocked for
inspection of the corps, and to witness dress parade, for
our fame was widespread. The attention bestowed upon
the cadets was enough to turn the heads of much humbler
persons than ourselves. We were asked to visit nearly
every house in town.
Ha-ving an invitation to dine at the horae of a friend,
Louis and I waded in a creek to wash the mud off our
shoes and trousers. With pocket-comb and glass we com
pleted our toilet in a fence-corner. Then we walked ab'out
until our garments were dry, and proceeded to meet our
engagement. Everything goes in war time.
At night, the town was hilarious. Several dances were
arranged, and, as dancing was a cadet accomplishment, we
were in our element.
The adoration bestowed upon us by young girls dis
gusted the regular officers. Before our coming, they had
had things aU their own way. Now, they found that fierce

290 THE END OF AN ERA
mustaches and hea-vy cavalry boots must give place to the
downy cheeks and merry, twinkling feet we brought from
Lexington. A big blonde captain, who was wearing a
stunning bunch of gilt aiguillettes, looked as if he would
snap my head off when I trotted up and whisked his
partner away from him. They could not and would not
understand why girls preferred these little, untitled whip-
persnappers to officers of distinction. Veterans forgot
that youth loves youth.
Doubtless some feeling of this sort prompted the band
of a regiment of grimy veterans to strike up " Rock-a-bye,
Baby," when the cadets marched by them. Quick as sol
diers' love of fun, the men took up the air, accompanying
it by rocking their guns in their arms as if putting them
to sleep. It produced a perfect roar of amusement with
everybody but ourselves. We were furious.
AU this on the eve of a battle ? Yes, of course. Why
not ? To be sure, everybody knew there was going to be a
fight. That was what we came for. But nobody among
us knew or cared just when or where it was coming off.
Life is too full of trouble for petty officers or privates, or
young girls, to bother themselves hunting up such dis
agreeable details in advance. That was the business of
generals. They were to have all the glory ; and so we
were willing they should have all the solicitude, anxiety,
and preoccupation.
At dress parade. May 12, orders were read for the move
ment of the army down the valley the following raorning.
We always moved on tirae. Now, who would have be
lieved that a nuraber of girls were up to see us off, or that
two or three were crying ? Yet it was so. And quick
work of the naked boy with the cross-bow I call that.
As we passed some slaughter-pens on the outskirts, an
old Irish butcher, in his shirt sleeves, hung over his gate.

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 291
pipe in mouth. With a twinkle in his eye he watched
the corps go by, at last exclaiming, " Begorra, an' it 's no
purtier dhrove av pigs hev passed this gate since this
hog-killing began."
We made a good daj^'s march, and camped that night
near Harrisonburg. During the day, we met several
couriers bearing dispatches ; they reported the enemy
advancing in heavy force, and had left him near Stras
burg and Woodstock.
Pressing on through Harrisonburg, which we reached
early in the morning, we camped the second night at
Lacy's Springs, in Shenandoah ; rain had set in, but the
boys stood up well to their work, and but few lame-ducks
had succumbed.
Evidences of the approach of the enemy multiplied
on the second day. We passed a great many vehicles
coming up the valley with people and farm products and
household effects, and a number of herds of cattle and
other livestock, aU escaping from the Union troops ;
now and then a weary or wounded cavalryman came by.
Their reports were that Sigel's steady advance was only
delayed by a thin line of cavalry skirmishers, who had
been ordered to retard him as best they could until
Breckinridge could march his array down to meet him.
Towards evening, we came to a stone church and spring,
where a cavalry detail with a squad of Union prisoners
were resting ; the prisoners were a gross, surly-looking
lot of Germans, who could not speak English. They
evidently could not make us out ; they watched us with
manifest curiosity, and talked in unintelligible, guttural
sounds among themselves.
When we reached camp, the rain had stopped and the
clouds had lifted, but everything was wet and gummy.
To add to my disgust, I was detailed as corporal of the

292 THE END OF AN ERA
guard, which meant loss of sleep at night, and a lone
some time next day with the wagons in rear of the corps.
Looking down the valley, as evening closed in, we could
see a line of bivouac fires, and were uncertain whether
they were lit by our own pickets or by the enemy. At
any rate, we were getting sufficiently near to the gentle
men for whom we were seeking to feel reasonably cer
tain we should meet them.
Night closed in upon us ; for a little while the wood
land resounded with the axe-stroke, or the cheery halloos
of the men frora camp-fire to camp-fire ; for a while the
fire-Hghts danced, the air laden with the odor of cooking
food ; for a while the boys stood around the camp-fires
for warmth and to dry their wet clothing ; but soon aU
had wrapped their blankets around them and laid down
in silence, unbroken save by the champing of the colo
nel's horse upon his provender, or the fall of a passing
shower. I was on duty as corporal of the guard ; a sentry stood
post near the pike ; the remainder of the guard and the
musicians were stretched before the watch-fire asleep. It
was my part to remain awake, and a very lonesome, cheer
less task it was, sitting there in the darkness, under the
dancing shadows of the wide-spreading trees, watching the
fagots flame up and die out, speculating upon the events
of the morrow.
An hour past midnight, the sound of hoofs upon the
pike caught my ear, and in a few moraents the challenge
of the sentry summoned me. The newcomer was an
aid-de-camp, bearing orders for Colonel Shipp from the
commanding general. When I aroused the commandant,
he struggled up, rubbed his eyes, muttered something
about moving at once, and ordered me to arouse the
camp without having the drums beaten. Orders to fall

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 293
in were promptly given, rolls were rattled off, the battal
ion was formed, and we debouched upon the pike, head
ing in the darkness and mud for Newmarket.
Before the command to march was given, a thing
occurred which made a deep impression upon us aU, — a
thing which even now may be a solace to those whose
boys died so gloriously that day. In the gloom of the
night. Captain Frank Preston, neither afraid nor ashamed
to pray, sent up an appeal to God for his protection of ^
our little band : it was a humble, earnest petition, that sunk
into the heart of every hearer. Few were the dry eyes,
little the frivolity, when he had ceased to speak of home,
of father, of mother, of country, of victory and defeat,
of life, of death, of eternity. Captain Preston had been
an officer in StonewaU Jackson's command ; had lost an
arm at Winchester ; was on the retired list ; and was sub-
professor of Latin, and tactical officer of B Company :
he was a typical Valley Presbyterian. Those who, a few
hours later, saw him commanding his corapany in the
thickest of the fight, his already empty sleeve attesting
that he was no stranger to the perilous edge of battle,
realized fully the beauty of the lines which tell that " the
bravest are the tenderest, the lo-ving are the daring."
Day broke gray and gloomy upon us toiling onward in
the mud. The sober course of our reflections was relieved
by the light-heartedness of the veterans. We overtook
Wharton's Brigade, with smiling " Old Gabe," a Vir
ginia Military Institute boy, at their head. They were
squatting by the roadside, cooking breakfast, as we came
up. With many good-natured gibes they restored our
confidence ; they seemed as merry, nonchalant, and indif
ferent to the coming fight as if it were their daily occupa
tion. A tall, round-shouldered fellow, whose legs seemed
almost split up to his shoulder-blades, came among us

294 THE END OF AN ERA
with a pair of shears and a pack of playing cards, offer
ing to take our names and cut off love-locks to be sent
home after we were dead; another inquired if we wanted
rosewood coffins, satin-lined, with narae and age on the
plate. In a word, they made us ashamed of the depress
ing solemnity of our last six miles of marching, and
renewed within our breasts the true dare-devil spirit of
soldiery. Resuming the march, the mile-posts numbered four,
three, two, one mile to Newmarket ; then the mounted
skirmishers hurried past us to their position at the front.
We heard loud cheering at the rear, which was caught
up by the troops along the line of march. We learned
its import as General John C. Breckinridge and staff
approached, and we joined heartily in the cheering as
that soldierly man, mounted magnificently, galloped past,
uncovered, bowing, and riding like a Cid. It is impos
sible to exaggerate the gallant appearance of General
Breckinridge. In stature he was considerably over six
feet high. He sat his blood-bay thoroughbred as if he had
been born on horseback ; his head was of noble mould,
and a piercing eye and a long, dark, drooping mustache
completed a faultless military presence.
Deployed along the crest of an elevation in our front,
we could see our line of mounted pickets and the smoul
dering fires of their last night's bivouac. We halted at
a point where passing a slight turn in the road would
bring us in full view of the position of the enemy.
Echols's and Wharton's brigades hurried past us ; this
time there was not much bantering between us. " For
ward ! " was the word once more, and, turning the point
in the road, Newmarket was in full view, and the whole
position was displayed.
At this point, a bold range of hills on the left paraUel

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 295
with the mountains divided the Shenandoah valley into
two smaller valleys ; in the easternmost of these lies
Newmarket. The valley pike on which we had advanced
passes through the town parallel with the Massanunten
Mountains on our right, and Smith's Creek, coursing
along its base. The hills on our left, as they near the
town, slope down to it from south and west, and swell
beyond it to the west and north. Through this depres
sion from the town to the Shenandoah River in the
western valley runs a transverse road with heavy stone
walls. Between the pike by which we were advancing
and the creek at the base of the mountains lies a beauti
ful strip of meadowland, extending to and beyond the
village of Newmarket ; on these meadows, in the outskirts
of the village, were orchards, where the enemy's skir
mishers were posted, his left wing being concealed in the
village. The right wing of the enemy was posted behind
the hea-vy stone fence in the road running westward from
the town, parallel with our line of battle. Behind the
infantry, on the slope of the rising ground, the Union
artillery was posted : the ground rose behind this posi
tion until a short distance beyond the town ; to the left
of the pike it spread out in an elevated plateau. The
hiUsides from this plateau to the pike were broken by
several gullies, heavily wooded by scrub cedar.
It was Sunday morning at eleven o'clock. In a pictur
esque Httle Lutheran churchyard, under the very shadow
of the viUage spire and among the white tombstones, a
six-gun battery was posted in rear of the infantry lines
of the enemy. Firing over the heads of their own troops,
that battery opened upon us the moment we came in
sight. Away off to the right, in the Luray Gap, we could see
our signal corps telegraphing the position and numbers of

296 THE END OF AN ERA
the enemy. Our cavalry was galloping to the cover of the
creek to attempt to turn the enemy's left flank. Echols's
brigade, moving from the pike at a double-quick by the
right flank, went into line of battle across the meadow,
its left resting on the pike. Simultaneously its skirmish
ers were thrown forward at a run and engaged the enemy.
Out of the orchards and on the meadows, puff after puff
of blue smoke rose as the sharpshooters advanced, the pop,
pop, pop of their rifles ringing forth excitingly. Thun
dering do-wn the pike came McLaughlin with his artillery.
Wheeling out upon the meadows, he swung into battery,
action left, and let fly with all his guns.
The cadet section of artiUery pressed down the pike a
little farther, turned to the left, toiled up the slope in
front of us, and, going into position, delivered a plunging
fire in reply to the Federal battery in the graveyard. We
counted it a good omen when, at the first discharge of
our little guns, a beautiful blue- white wreath of smoke
shot upward and hovered over them. The town, which
a moment before had seemed to sleep so peacefully upon
that Sabbath morning, was now wrapped in battle smoke
and swarming with troops hurrying to their position.
We had their range beautifully. Every shell hit some
obstruction, and exploded in the streets or on the hill
sides. Every man in our army was in sight. Every posi
tion of the enemy was plainly visible. His numbers were
uncorafortably large ; for, notwithstanding his line of
battle already forraed seemed equal to our own, the pike
beyond the town was still filled with his infantry.
Our left wing consisted of Wharton's brigade ; our
centre, of the 62d Virginia infantry and the cadet corps ;
our right, of Echols's brigade and the cavalry. Until
now, as corporal of the guard, I had remained in charge
of the baggage-wagon with a detail of three men, —

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 297
Redwood, Stanard, and Woodlief. My orders were to
remain with the wagons at the bend in the pike unless we
were driven back. In that case, we were to retire to a
point of safety.
When it was clear that the battle was imminent, one
thought took possession of me, and that was, if I sat on
a baggage wagon while the corps of cadets was in its
first, perhaps its only engagement, I should never be able
to look ray father in the face again. He was a grim old
fighter, at that moment resisting the advance on Peters
burg, and holding the enemy in check until Lee's array
could come up. I had annoyed him with importunities
for permission to leave the Institute and enter the army.
If, now that I had the opportunity to fight, I should fail
to do so, I knew what was in store for me, for he had a
tongue of satire and ridicule like a lash of scorpions.
Napoleon in Egypt, pointing to the Pyramids, told his
soldiers that from their heights forty centuries looked
down upon them. The oration I delivered from the tail
board of a wagon was not so hyperbolical, but was equally
emphatic. It ran about this wise : " Boys, the enemy is
in our front. The corps is going into action. I like fight
ing no better than anybody else. But I have an enemy
in my rear as dreadful as any before us. If I should re
turn home and tell my father that I was on the baggage
guard when the cadets were in battle, I know what my
fate would be. He would kill me with ridicule, which is
worse than bullets. I intend to join the command at
once. Any of you who think your duty requires you to
remain may do so."
AU the guard foUowed. We left the wagon in charge
of the black driver. Of the four who thus went, one was
killed and two were wounded. We overtook the battalion
as it deployed by the left flank from the pike. Moving

298 THE END OF AN ERA
at double-quick, we were in an instant in line of battle,
our right resting near the turnpike. Rising ground in
our immediate front concealed us from the enemy.
The command was given to strip for action. Knap
sacks, blankets, — everything but guns, canteens, and car
tridge-boxes, was thrown upon the ground. Our boys
were silent then. Every lip was tightly drawn, every
cheek was pale, but not with fear. With a peculiar, ner
vous jerk, we pulled our cartridge-boxes round to the
front, laid back the flaps, and tightened belts. Whistling
rifled -shells screamed over us, as, tipping the hill-crest in
our front, they bounded past. To our right, across the
pike, Patton's brigade was lying down abreast of us.
" At-ten-tiorirn-n ! Battalion forward ! Guide cen-
ter-r-r ! " shouted Shipp, and up the slope we started.
From the left of the line, Sergeant-Major Woodbridge
ran out and posted himself forty paces in advance of the
colors as directing guide, as if we had been upon the drill
ground. That boy would have remained there, had not
Shipp ordered him back to his post ; for this was no
dress parade. Brave Evans, standing six feet two, shook
out the colors that for days had hung limp and bedrag
gled about the staff, and every cadet leaped forward,
dressing to the ensign, elate and thrilling with the con
sciousness that this was war.
Moving up to the hill crest in our front, we were
abreast of our smoking battery, and uncovered to the
range of the enemy's guns. We were pressing towards
him at " arms port," moving with the light tripping gate
of the French infantry. The enemy's veteran artiUery
soon obtained our range, and began to drop his shells
under our very noses along the slope. Echols's brigade
rose up, and was charging on our right with the weU-
known rebel yell.

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 299
Down the green slope we went, answering the wild cry
of our comrades as their muskets rattled out in opening
volleys. " Double time ! " shouted Shipp, and we broke
into a long trot. In another moraent, a pelting rain of
lead would fall upon us from the blue line in our front.
Then came a sound more stunning than thunder. It
burst directly in my face : lightnings leaped, fire flashed,
the earth rocked, the sky whirled round. I stumbled, my
gun pitched forward, and I fell upon my knees. Ser
geant Cabell looked back at me pityingly and called out,
" Close up, men ! " as he passed on. I knew no raore.
When consciousness returned, the rain was falling in
torrents. I was lying upon the ground, which all about
was torn and ploughed with shell, and they were still
screeching in the air and bounding on the earth. Poor
little Captain HiU, the tactical officer of C Corapany, was
lying near rae bathed in blood, with a frightful gash over
the temple, and was gasping like a dying fish. Cadets
Reed, Merritt, and another, whose name I forget, were
near at hand, badly shot. The battalion was three hun
dred yards in advance of us, clouded in low-lying smoke
and hotly engaged. They had crossed the lane which the
enemy had held, and the Federal battery in the grave
yard had fallen back to the high ground beyond. " How
came they there ? " I thought, " and why am I here ? "
Then I found I was bleeding from a long and ugly gash
in the head. That rifled shell, bursting in our faces,
had brought down five of us. " Hurrah ! " I thought,
" youth's dream is realized at last. I 've got a wound,
and am not dead yet."
Another moment found me on my feet, trudging along
to the hospital, almost whistling at thought that the next
mail would carry the news to the folks at home, with a
taunting suggestion that, after all the pains they had

300 THE END OF AN ERA
taken, they had been unable to keep me out of my share
in the fun. From this time forth, I may speak of the
gallant behavior of the cadets without the imputation of
vanity, for I was no longer a participant in their glory.
The fighting around the town was fierce and bloody on
our left wing. On the right, the movements of Echols
and JPatton were very effective. They had pressed for
ward and gained the viUage, and our line was now con
cave, with its angle just beyond the town. '
The Federal infantry had faUen back to the second
Hne, and our left had now before it the task of ascending
the slope to the crest of the hill where the enemy was
posted. After pausing under the cover of the deep lane
to breathe awhile and correct the alignment, our troops
once more advanced, clambering up the bank and over
the stone fence, at once delivering and receiving a wither
ing fire.
At a point below the town where the turnpike makes a
bend, the cavalry of the enemy was massed. A momen
tary confusion on our right, as our troops pressed through
the streets of Newmarket, gave invitation for a charge of
the Union cavalry. They did not see McLaughlin's bat
tery, which had been moved up, unlimbered in the streets,
and double-shotted with grape and canister. The enemy's
cavalry dashed forward in column of platoons. Our
infantry scrambled over the fences and gave the artillery
a fair opportunity to rake them. They saw the trap too
late ; they drew up and sought to wheel about.
Heavens ! what a blizzard McLaughlin gave them !
They staggered, wheeled, and fled. The road was fiUed
with fallen men and horses. A few riderless steeds came
galloping towards our lines, neighed, circled, and rejoined
their comrades. One daring fellow, whose horse became
unmanageable, rode straight at our battery at full speed,

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 301
passed beyond, behind, and around our line, and safely
rejoined his comrades, cheered for his courage by his ene
mies. This was the end of the cavalry in that fight.
Meanwhile, the troops upon our left performed their
allotted task. Up the slope, right up to the second line
of infantry, they went ; a second time the Federal troops
were forced to retire. Wharton's brigade secured two
guns of the battery, and the remaining four galloped back
to a new position in a farmyard on the plateau, at the
head of the cedar-skirted gully. Our boys had captured
over one hundred prisoners. Charlie Faulkner, now the
Senator from West Virginia, came back radiant in charge
of twenty-three Germans large enough to swallow hira,
and insisted that he and Winder Garrett had captured
them unaided. Bloody work had been done. The space
between the enemy's old and new position was dotted with
dead and wounded, shot as they retired across the open
field ; but this same exposed ground now lay before, and
must be crossed by our own men, under a galling fire
from a strong and weU-protected position. The distance
was not great, but the ground to be traversed was a level
green field of young wheat.
Again the advance was ordered. Our boys responded
with a cheer. Poor fellows ! They had already been put
upon their mettle in two assavdts, exhausted, wet to the
skin, muddy to their eyebrows with the stiff clay ; sorae
of them actuaUy shoeless after struggling across the
ploughed field : they, notwithstanding, advanced with tre
mendous earnestness, for the shout on our right advised
them that the victory was being won.
But the foe in our front was far from whipped. As
the cadets came on with a dash, he stood his ground most
courageously. The battery, now shotted with shrapnel
and canister, opened upon the cadets with a murderous

302 THE END OF AN ERA
fire. The infantry, lying behind fence-rails piled upon
the ground, poured in a steady, deadly volley. At one
discharge, Cabell, first sergeant of D Company, by whose
side I had marched for months, fell dead, and with him
feU Crockett and Jones. A blanket would have covered
the three. They were awfully mangled by the canister.
A few steps further on, McDowell sank to his knees with
a bullet through his heart. Atwill, Jefferson, and Wheel
wright were shot at this point. Sam Shriver, cadet cap
tain of C Company, had his sword arm broken by a minis
ball. Thus C Company lost her cadet as well as her pro
fessor captain.
The men were falling right and left. The veterans on
the right of the cadets seemed to waver. Colonel Shipp
went down. For the first time, the cadets appeared irre
solute. Some one cried out, " Lie down ! " and all obeyed,
firing from the knee, — all but Evans, the ensign, who
was standing bolt upright, shouting and waving the flag.
Some one exclairaed, " Fall back and rally on Edgar's
battalion ! " Several boys raoved as if to obey. Pizzini,
first sergeant of B Corapany, with his Corsican blood at
the boiling point, cocked his rifle and proclaimed that he
would shoot the first man who ran. Preston, brave and
inspiring, in command of B Company, smilingly lay down
upon his remaining arm with the remark that he would at
least save that. Colonna, cadet captain of D, was speak
ing low to the men of his company with words of encour
agement, and bidding them shoot close. The corps was
being decimated.
Manifestly, they must charge or fall back. And charge
it was ; for at that moment Henry Wise, " Old Chinook,"
beloved of every boy in the command, sprang to his feet,
shouted out the command to rise up and charge, and,
moving in advance of the line, led the cadet corps forward

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 303
to the guns. The battery was being served superbly. The
musketry fairly rolled, but the cadets never faltered.
They reached the firm greensward of the farmyard in
which the guns were planted. The Federal infantry
began to break and run behind the buildings. Before the
order to limber up could be obeyed by the artillerymen,
the cadets disabled the teams, and were close upon the
guns. The gunners dropped their sponges, and sought
safety in flight. Lieutenant Hannah hamraered a gunner
over the head with his cadet sword. Winder Garret out
ran another and lunged his bayonet into him. The boys
leaped upon the guns, and the battery was theirs. Evans,
the color-sergeant, stood wildly waving the cadet colors
from the top of a caisson.
A straggling fire of infantry was still kept up from the
gully now on our right flank, notwithstanding the masses
of blue retiring in confusion down the hill. The battal
ion was ordered to reform, mark time, and half wheel to
the right ; then it advanced, firing into the cedars as it
went, and did not pause again until it reached the pike,
having driven the last of the enemy from the thicket.
The broken columns of the enemy could be seen hurrying
over the hills and down the pike towards Mount Jackson,
hotly pressed by our infantry and cavalry. Our artillery
galloped to Rude's Hill, whence it shelled the flying foe
until they passed beyond the burning bridge that spanned
the Shenandoah at Mount Jackson.
We had won a victory, — not a Manassas or an Appo
mattox, but, for all that, a right comforting bit of news
went up the pike that night to General Lee, whose
thoughts, doubtless, from where he lay locked in the
death-grapple with Grant in the Wilderness, turned wea
rily and anxiously towards this attempted flank movement
in the valley.

304 THE END OF AN ERA
The pursuit down the pike was more like a foot-race
than a march ; our feUows straggled badly ; everybody
realized that the fight was over, and many were too ex
hausted to proceed farther.
As evening fell, the clouds passed away, the sun came
forth ; and, when night closed in, no sound disturbed the
Sabbath calm save that of a solitary Napoleon gun
pounding away at the smouldering ruins of the bridge.
Our picket-fires were lit that night at beautiful Mount
Airy, while the main body of our troops bivouacked on
the pike, a mile below Newmarket. Out of a corps of
225 men, we had lost fifty-six, kiUed and wounded.
Strange to say, but one man of the artillery detail re
ceived a wound. Shortly before sundown, after having
my head sewed up and bandaged, and having rendered
such service as I could to wounded comrades, I saUied
forth to procure a blanket and see what was to be seen.
When we stripped for action, we left our traps unguarded;
nobody would consent to be detailed. As a result, the
camp-followers had made away with nearly all of our
blankets. I entered the to-wn, and found it fiUed with soldiers,
laughing and carousing as light-heartedly as if it was a
feast or a holiday. In a side street, a great throng of
Federal prisoners was corralled ; they were nearly all
Germans. Every type of prisoner was there ; some cheer
ful, some defiant, some careless, some calm and dejected.
One feUow in particular afforded great merriment by his
quaint recital of the manner of his capture. Said he,
" Dem leetle tevils mit der vite vlag vas doo mutch fur
us ; dey shoost smash mine head ven I was cry zurrender
all de dime." A loud peal of laughter went up from the
bystanders, among whora I recognized several cadets.
His allusion to the white flag was to our colors. We

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 305
had a handsome corps flag, with a white and gold ground
and a picture of Washington ; it disconcerted our adver
saries not a little. Several, whom I have met since then,
tell me that they could not make us out at all, as our
strange colors, diminutive size, and unusual precision of
movement made them think we must be some foreign
mercenary regulars.
While standing there, my old partner Louis came run
ning up, exclaiming, " Holloa ! Golly, I am glad it is no
worse ; they said your head was knocked off." Then he
held up his bandaged forearm, in which he had a pretty
Httle wound. " Say, are you hungry ? There is an old
lady round here on the back street just shoveling out
pies and things to the soldiers."
Louis and I were both good foragers, so away we scam
pered, and relieved the dear old soul of a few more of
her apparently inexhaustible supply. Then we started off
to hunt up Henry. We had a good joke on him, but
were afraid to teU it to him. Several of the cadets de
clared that, notwithstanding his piety, he had at the
pinch in the wheatfield, when he ordered the charge, so
far forgotten himself that he used some very plain old
English expletives, as in days of yore. When we ventured
to suggest it, he grew indignant, and he was such a se
rious fellow that we were afraid to press him about it ;
when we found him, he gave us lots of sport. He was very
taU and very thin. He had gone into action wearing the
long-tailed coat of a Confederate captain. In the last
charge, an unexploded canister had literally carried away
his hind coat-tails and the pipe and tobacco in the pockets,
without touching him. Probably he was so close to the
guns that the bands of the canister had not burst when
it passed him.' However this may have been, when we
found him, his coat-tails were hanging in short shreds

306 THE END OF AN ERA
behind, while in front they were intact. He was involun
tarily feeling behind him, bemoaning the loss of his pipe
and tobacco, and looked like a Shanghai rooster with his
tail-feathers pulled out.
The jeers and banterings of the veterans had now
ceased ; we had fairly won our spurs. We could mingle
-with them fraternally and discuss the battle on equal
terms : glorious fellows those veterans were. To them
was due ninety-nine one-hundredths of the glory of the
victory, yet they seeraed to delight in giving all praise to
" dem leetle te-vils mit der vite vlag." The ladies of the
place also overwhelmed us with tenderness, and as for
ourselves, we drank in greedily the praise which made us
the lions of the hour.
Leaving the viUage, we sought the plateau where most
of our losses had occurred. A little above the town, in
the fatal wheatfield, we came upon the dead bodies of
three cadets ; one wearing the chevrons of a first sergeant
lay upon his face, stiff and stark, with outstretched arms.
His hands had clutched and torn up great tufts of soil
and grass. His lips were retracted ; his teeth tightly
locked; his face as hard as flint, with staring, glassy
eyes. It was difficult indeed to recognize that this was
aU that remained of Cabell, who a few hours before had
stood first in his class, second as a soldier, and the peer
of any boy in the comraand in every trait of physical and
moral manliness. A short distance removed from the
spot where Cabell fell, and nearer to the position of the
enemy, lay McDowell. It was a sight to rend one's
heart ! That little fellow was lying there asleep, more
fit indeed for a cradle than a grave ; he was about my
own age, not large, and by no means robust. He was a
North Carolinian ; he had torn open his jacket and shirt,
and even in death, lay clutching them back, exposing a

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 307
fair, white breast with its red wound. We had come too
late : Stanard had breathed his last but a few moments
before we reached the old farmhouse where the battery
had stood, now used as a hospital. His body was still
warm, and his last messages had been words of love to his
room-mates. Poor Jack, — playmate, room-mate, friend,
— farewell ! Standing there, ray mind sped back to the
old scenes at Lexington when we were shooting together
in the brushy hills ; to our games and sports ; to the
night we had gone to see him kneel at the chancel for
confirmation ; to the previous night at the guard-fire,
when he confessed to a presentiment that he would be
killed ; to his wistful, earnest farewell when we parted at
the baggage-wagon that morning ; and my heart half
reproached me for ray part in drawing him into the fight.
The warm tears of youthful friendship came welling up
to the eyes of both of us for one we had learned to love
as a brother; and now, thirty-four years later, I thank
God life's buffetings and the cold-heartedness of later
struggles have not yet diminished the pure evidence of
boyhood's friendship. A truer-hearted, braver, better fel
low never lived than Jacquelin B. Stanard.
A few of us brought up a limber chest, threw our dead
across it, and bore their remains to a deserted storehouse
in the village. The next day, we buried them with the
honors of war, bowed down with grief at a victory so
dearly bought.
The day following that, we started on our return march
up the valley, crestfallen and dejected. The joy of vic
tory was forgotten in distress for the friends and com
rades dead and maimed. We were still young in the
ghastly garae, but we proved apt scholars.
On our march up the valley, we were not hailed as sor
rowing friends, but greeted as heroes and victors. At

308 THE END OF AN ERA
Harrisonburg, Staunton, Charlottesville, — everywhere,
an ovation awaited us such as we had not dreamed of,
and such as has seldom greeted any troops. The dead and
the poor fellows stiU tossing on cots of fever and delirium
were almost forgotten by the selfish comrades whose
fame their blood had bought. We were ordered to Rich
mond : aU our sadness disappeared. What mattered it
to us that we were packed into freight-cars ? it was great
sport riding on the tops of the cars. We were side
tracked at Ashland, and there, lying on the ground by
the side of us, was Stonewall Jackson's division. We
had heard of them, and looked upon them as the greatest
soldiers that ever went into battle. What flattered us
most was that they had heard of us.
While waiting at Ashland, a very distinguished-looking
surgeon entered the car, inquiring for some cadet. He
was just returning from the battlefield of Spotsylvania.
I heard with absorbed interest his account of the terrible
carnage there ; and when he said he had seen a smaU tree
within the " bloody angle " cut down by bullets, I turned
to Louis and said, " I think that old fellow is drawing
a longbow." The person speaking was Dr. Charles Mc-
Gill. I afterwards learned that what he said was liter
ally true.
At the very tirae when we were lying there at Ashland,
the armies of Grant and Lee, moving by the flank, were
passing the one all about us, tbe other within a few miles
of us, from the battlefields of Spotsylvania Court House
and Milford Station to their ghastly field of second Cold
Harbor. We could distinctly hear the firing in our
front. We reached Richmond that afternoon, and were
quartered in one of the buildings of the Fair Grounds,
known as Camp Lee. It is impossible to describe the
enthusiasm with which we were received.

THE MOST GLORIOUS DAY OF MY LIFE 309
A week after the battle of Newmarket, the cadet corps,
garlanded, cheered by ten thousand throats, intoxicated
with praise unstinted, wheeled proudly around the Wash
ington monument at Richmond, to pass in review before
the President of the Confederate States, to hear a speech
of commendation frora his lips, and to receive a stand of
colors from the Governor of Virginia.
No wonder that our band, as we marched back to our
quarters, played lustily : —
" There 's not a trade that 's going
Worth showing or knowing.
Like that from glory growing
For the bowld soldier boy.
For to right or left you go.
Sure you know, friend or foe,
He is bound to be a beau.
Your bowld soldier boy."

CHAPTER XX
THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTEKFLT
Afteb a few days in Richmond, the cadets were
ordered back to Lexington. We resumed academic
duties promptly, and were just beginning to settle down
to hard work, when General Hunter advanced up the
vaUey of the Shenandoah, unopposed save by a small
cavalry force under General McCausland.
McCausland was another Virginia Military Institute
graduate. "WeU," said we, when we heard the news,
" we 'U have to whip 'em again." But this time the story
was to be very different from the last. Following almost
immediately upon the heels of the first announcement
came the alarming statement that Hunter had reached
Staunton, but thirty-six miles to the north of us ; and
the next day we were advised that he had not paused in
Staunton, but pressed on, and that his advance was skir
mishing with McCausland at Midway, but twelve miles
from Lexington.
Resistance to a force like Hunter's being out of the
question, we were ordered to prepare for the evacuation
of Lexington. A detail of sappers was sent forthwith to
the bridge across the North River, with directions to load
it with bales of hay saturated with turpentine, leaving
space just sufficient for the passage of McCausland's
retreating forces. We were kept under arms aU night.
Before sunrise, the main body of our troops came stream
ing down the hiUs across the river ; and, half a mile be-

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 311
hind them, their rear guard emerged from the woods along
the hill-tops, skirmishing with, and hotly pressed by, the
enemy. At the river, after crossing the bridge, McCaus
land deployed a force upon the bluffs above and below
the bridge, to cover the crossing of his rear guard.
The rear guard, called in, raUied at a run to the bridge ;
and the Union skirmishers, emboldened by their quick
movements, dashed after them down the hills. Coming
too near to the force behind the bluffs, they were com
pelled to retreat under a heavy fire upon Hunter's ad
vance guard, which was now coming up. A battery of
Union UrtiUery, under Captain Henry Du Pont, gaUoped
out upon the hills overlooking Lexington from the north
side of the river, and opened fire upon the Institute. A
section of McCausland's artillery came up, after crossing
the bridge, and took position at the northeast corner of
the parade ground to respond to Du Pont. As soon as
our troops were across the bridge, it was fired, and a fine
column of black smoke rolled heavenward. Our sappers,
their task performed, hurried back at double time to re
join their respective companies. Along the pike in the
valley in front of the Institute, the cavalry, weary and
depressed, was retiring to the town.
The whole panorama, front and rear, was visible from
the Institute grounds, and made a very pretty war scene.
When the Union battery opened, the corps was drawn
up in front of barracks awaiting orders. It was, of course,
invisible to the enemy from his position directly in rear
of barracks. If his guns had been aimed at the centre of
the building, his shells would have exploded in our midst.
But the massive parts were at the corners, where the
towers were grouped, and thither the fire was directed.
The first shell that struck crashed in the hall of the So
ciety of Cadets, sending down showers of brickbats and

312 THE END OF AN ERA
plaster when it exploded. Thereupon we were ordered to
pass over the parapet in front of barracks, and thence
were marched westward until clear of the building, so as
to avoid the splinters and debris. It was very well, for
while several of his guns turned their attention to our
section of artiUery on the parade ground. Captain Harry
filled the air with fragments as he pounded away at our
quarters. In our new position under the parapet, about opposite
the guard-tree, although fully protected, we were nearly
in the line of fire of the shots directed at our battery. A
number of shells struck the parade ground, some explod
ing there, and others ricocheting over our heads.
Soon after this we marched away. As we were leaving,
the artillery was limbering up, and the only force oppos
ing the entrance of the eneray was the thin line of skir
mishers on the river bluffs.
With heavy hearts we passed through the town, bidding
adieu to such of its residents as we had known in happier
days. Our route was southward to Balcony Falls, which
we reached late that evening. At a high point, probably
five miles south of Lexington, we came in full sight of
our old home. The day was bright and clear, and we saw
the towers and turrets of the barracks, mess-hall, and pro
fessors' houses in full blaze, sending up great masses of
flame and smoke. The only building on the entire re
servation not destroyed by fire was the residence of Gen
eral Smith. His daughter was very ill, and as the physi
cians declared it would cost her life to remove her, the
house was spared through the intercession of Colonel
Du Pont.
No words could describe our feelings as we rested on
the roadside, and watched the conflagration. The place
was endeared by a thousand memories, but above all other

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 313
thoughts, it galled and mortified us that we had been
compelled to abandon it without firing a shot.
Thinking that the enemy might follow us and attempt
to reach Lynchburg through the pass at Balcony FaUs,
our commandant determined, if that should prove to be
the purpose of General Hunter, to offer resistance there,
for it was a very defensible position. Accordingly, upon
reaching Balcony Falls, pickets were posted, the corps
was deployed along the mountain side, and we were held
ready for a fight all that night and until late in the fol
lowing day. Then we ascertained that General Hunter
had passed on up the valley to the approaches of Lynch
burg by way of the Peaks of Otter. We impressed a
canal-boat, and resuraed our journey to Lynchburg, reach
ing there some hours in advance of the enemy. On our
arrival, Early's division was pouring into the town, having
just arrived by rail from Petersburg. It was hurried
forward to the fortifications in the outskirts.
We remained in the streets of the town several hours,
awaiting orders, and were finally sent to the front in
reserve. Our position was in a graveyard. The afternoon we
spent there, sitting upon graves and among tombstones in
a cold, drizzling rain, was anything but cheerful.
The enemy, unaware of the presence of Early's division,
advanced to a brisk attack with infantry and artillery.
Although he was roughly handled, the assault continued
until dark, and he had pressed up very close to a salient
in our front, at a point near the present residence of Mr.
John Langhorne. A renewal of the attack on the follow
ing morning was confidently expected. About ten o'clock
that night, orders came for the cadets to move to the front
to relieve the troops in the salient, who had been fighting
since midday.

314 THE END OF AN ERA
When the corps was formed in line. Colonel Shipp, in
low tones, explained the nature of the service, and the
importance of silence. We were warned not to speak,
and, as the night was very black, each man was instructed
to place his left hand upon the cartridge-box of the man
in front of him, so as to keep distance and alignment.
Thus formed, we proceeded to the bastion, and entered it
in gloomy silence. The troops occupying it were drawn
up as we entered, and glided out after we were in, like tbe
shadows of darkness.
The place was horrible. The fort was new, and con
structed of stiff red clay. The rain had wet the soil, and
the feet of the men who had been there had kneaded the
mud into dough. There was no place to lie down. AU
that a man could do was to sit plump down in the mud,
upon the low banquette, with his gun across his lap. I
could not resist peeping over the parapet, and there, but
a short distance from us, in a little valley, were the smoul
dering camp-fires of the enemy. Wrapping my blanket
about me, its ends tucked under me, so as to keep out the
moisture from the red clay as much as possible, I fell
asleep, hugging my rifle, never doubting that there would
be work for both of us at daybreak.
I must have slept soundly, for when I awoke it was
broad daylight. The men were beginning to talk aloud,
and several were exposing themselves freely. No enemy
appeared in our front. He was gone. Hunter, discov
ering that he was overmatched, had retired during the
night, and was now in full retreat.
Lexington was now accessible to us once more, and
thither we proceeded in a day or two.
On our return to Lexington, we temporarily quartered
in Washington College. Nothing worth having was left
of the Virginia Military Institute. The scene was one of

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 315
such complete desolation, and so depressing, that I avoided
it as much as possible.
We were furloughed until September 1, and ordered to
report at that time at the almshouse in Richraond.
This apparently absurd announceraent was another illus
tration of the resourcefulness of General Smith. The city
of Richmond had a very fine almshouse, but at this period
of the war aU our people were paupers, and the city could
not maintain the almshouse. Knowing this. General
Smith had opened telegraphic correspondence frora Lynch
burg with the Richmond authorities, and secured the place
free of rent.
For myself, I now saw a chance of entering the service,
and had no idea of going to live in an almshouse. My
objective point was Petersburg, where my father's brigade
was stationed. He was in comraand of the city, having
been engaged with the enemy almost daily since his arrival
from South Carolina in May. Against overwhelming
odds, Beauregard had held the place until the arrival of
General Lee.
It was about sundown on the 22d of June, 1864, that our
train from Richmond stopped in a deep cut about a mile
from Petersburg. We could not safely approach nearer
to the city. When General " Baldy " Smith, with 22,000
men, attacked my father with 2200 men on the 15th of
June, he captured several redoubts, numbered frora 5 to 9,
near the Appomattox River, just below Petersburg. From
these, with his siege-guns, he could sheU the town, and
particularly the railroad depot and the Pocahontas Bridge
near by across the Appomattox. As a consequence, the
trains stopped at a point of safety, whence passengers
could take a back route to the town, or go by way of the
railroad without attracting attention. The disagreeable
persons at the captured batteries soon ascertained the raU-

316 THE END OF AN ERA
road schedules, and sheUed the vicinity of the depot about
train time.
Soldiers had become accustomed to sheUs, and did not
fear them much ; so our party, consisting of several mem
bers of my father's brigade, followed the short route, not
withstanding quite a lively artillery fire. We crossed the
bridge at Pocahontas without incident. The firing seemed
directed higher up town. Passing on to Bolingbroke
Street, we saw evidences of recent damage in a great hole
made by a shell in the Bolingbroke Hotel, but a few
moments before, and a dead man was lying on the curb
stone near where the shell had exploded. Turning into
Bolingbroke Street, which ran nearly parallel with the line
of fire from Battery 6, two heavy shells went screaming
over our heads, and burst near where Bolingbroke Street
terminates in Sycamore Street. It was a decided relief
when we reached the latter, and struck off at right angles
from the range of those guns. The official headquarters
were in the court house, which, while it was in the line of
fire, was protected by heavy masses of intervening build
ings. Thither we repaired, but found they were closed
for the day.
The appearance of the town was exceedingly depress
ing. The streets were almost deserted, and the destructive
work of the shells was visible on every hand. Here a
chimney was knocked off ; here a handsome residence was
deserted, with great rents in its walls, and the windows
shattered by explosion ; here stood a church tower muti
lated, the churchyard filled with new-made graves. As
we moved onward, one of our party pointed to where
Colonel Page of our brigade was buried. He had been
killed but a week before, and was buried near the front
door of a church, within three feet of the sidewalk. On
the court-house steps a group of dirty soldiers were gath-

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 317
ered about a poor little half-starved white girl, who sat
singing. She had an attractive face, with large, wistful
eyes, and a sweet child-voice. When she sang, her whole
soul was in her song, which seemed to be highly appre
ciated by the soldiers. They joined in the chorus after
each verse. I remember the name of the song, the first
verse, and the chorus, although I never heard them before
or since. It was caUed " Louia," and ran as foUows : —
" With a heart forsaken I wander
In silence, in grief, and alone ;
On a form departed I ponder.
For Louia, sweet Louia, is gone.
CHOKDS.
" Gone where the roses have faded,
Gone where the meadows are bare.
To a land by orange-blossoms shaded.
Where summer ever lingers in the air."
The soldiers seemed deeply touched by the plaintive
melody, and joined with genuine feeling in the mournful
chorus. Its sadness was in accord with their own desper
ate situation. They made her repeat it several times, and,
when it was over, paid her in food, or such little trifles or
trinkets as they possessed, — not in money, for they had
none. About the song, the singer, the soldiers, the scene, and
its surroundings there was something intensely pathetic
and depressing, and I turned away with a heartsick feel
ing, not reHeved by the silence and desolation along the
route to my father's quarters at the residence of a Mr.
Dunlop in the western part of the town. I found him in
the act of going to tea with his staff, if a meal at which
there was neither tea nor coffee may be so designated.
Our meeting after two years' separation — years in
which so much had happened to both of us — was inex
pressibly delightful. In my father's greeting was blended

318 THE END OF AN ERA
love for his " little Benjamin," pride in recent events,
and solicitude concerning my fate in the dangerous present-
future. The two years of war since we parted showed their
effects upon him. He had aged decidedly. But his eye
was as bright and his spirit as unconquered as at the
outset. We hugged and kissed each other as if I had been a
boy of ten, and then, turning to his staff and a visitor, he
introduced me as his boy, whose " head was so hard he had
burst a bombshell against it."
The evening being very warm, the tea-table was spread
under the trees in the Dunlop yard. Araong those pre
sent were : Colonel Roraan, of Beauregard's staff, young
Fred Fleet, adjutant-general, my brother Richard, and
Barksdale Warwick, the two aids-de-camp. The con
versation was jolly, and the meal surprisingly inviting, for
Lieutenant Warwick had returned that day from a short
leave of absence, bringing a number of good things. My
father occupied some outbuildings, where his generous
host, Mr. Dunlop, had supplied him with knives, forks,
plates, and table outfit, giving our tea-table under tbe
trees quite a luxurious appearance. And there were my
old companions, Joshua and Smith, two of my father's
young slaves, who performed all the offices of grooms,
butlers, and dining-room servants for the staff. Lieuten
ant Warwick's Jira was the cook. As Joshua and Smith
appeared with plates and hot biscuits and a smoking pot
of parched-corn coffee, they broke into broad grins at
sight of rae. Putting down their things unceremoniously,
they rushed up, exclaiming, " How you do, Mars' John ?
Gord Amighty ! how you is grow'd ! Dey did n't hurt
you much when dey shot you, did dey ? " When my father
repeated his joke about bursting a bombsheU with my

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 319
head, they guffawed and said, " Spec' it 's so, fur he cer
tainly always did have a pow'ful hard head." And then
they hurried off about their duties, reserving more confi
dential chats about old times for later occasions when we
should meet at the stables or the kitchen.
Although our beds were on the floor, the quarters were
very comfortable, with some features of decent living, such
as tables, chairs, and a few books. As we sat there, the
picket-firing along the lines from the Appomattox on the
east to the Jerusalem plank road to the south of the city
was unusually brisk, making one think of corn rapidly
popping. These sounds were interspersed with exploding
shells at intervals of less than a minute, often as frequent
as every few seconds. By stepping out beyond the cover
of the trees, we could see the trajectory of the mortar-
shells sent up from both sides. The burning fuses gave
us the line through the darkness. The firing generally
became more active in the evening. Our brigade was
already in the trenches, but my father, being still in com
mand of the city, had not yet joined his own command.
" There has been heavy firing on tbe right this after
noon, general," said Colonel Roman.
" Yes," replied my father, " Grant is evidently trying
to extend his left as far as the Weldon Railroad. I met
Mahone to-day, who said that he and Wilcox were mov
ing out to intercept hira. Whenever Mahone moves out,
somebody is apt to be hurt."
" Mahone is a Virginia Military Institute graduate,"
said I, with undisguised pride.
" There he goes again," said my father, smiling ; " up to
this time we have had West Point, West Point, West
Point. Now we shall have Virginia Military Institute,
Virginia Military Institute, Virginia Military Institute,
I presume. But seriously speaking, colonel, since the

320 THE END OF AN ERA
death of Stonewall Jackson, the two men who seem to me
to be the raost gallant, enterprising, and ' coming ' soldiers
of Lee's army are this little fellow Mahone and young
Gordon, of Georgia." He then proceeded to give a sketch
of Mahone, whom he knew weU. Mahone was born in
Southampton County, at Jerusalem, the county seat. It
was only about fifty or sixty miles east of Petersburg.
His father was known to everybody in the county as
Major Mahone, and kept the tavern at Jerusalem. Keep
ing tavern did not imply that he was not as good as any
body else in the community, and in fact he was, although
he may not have been of such patrician extraction as some
of the other people thereabouts. He associated with the
best of them, and they with him, and he was respected as
a raan of many sterling good qualities, possessed of strong
individuality. Of Irish extraction, he inherited the most
prominent characteristics of his race; was brave, open-
hearted, free-spoken, a free liver, and not over-prosperous.
His son " BiUy," as everybody called him, grew up in
the atmosphere of a country' tavern. He did not hesitate
in his youth to hold a horse for one of his father's guests,
and take a tip for the service. He saw a great deal of
liquor drunk at his father's bar, and a great deal of card-
playing in his father's tavern. He was not, in his day,
above taking in a tray of toddies to the people in a private
room playing draw poker, or brag, or lou. He heard a
great deal of hard swearing, and had acquired that ac
complishment himself. His youth was in the days of cock-
fighting ; and betting upon tjie result was by no means
deemed disreputable. He not only witnessed cocking-
raains between the Virginia birds and those from Weldon
and vicinity in the adjoining counties of North Carolina,
but soon had birds of his own, and scrupled not to fight
them with all comers, or to back them with aU the means

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 321
he could command. It was the days .of horse-racing also,
and young " Billy " owned a crack quarter-nag, which he
would race with anybody for all he had, at any time and
in any place. He generaUy rode hiraself, for he was of
very dirainutive stature. And he usually won, for he was
a youngster of precocious judgment, boundless enterprise,
great ambition to win at any game he played, and indora-
itable grit. He also had the faculty of making friends,
and interesting people in his success. Everybody in
Southampton County knew him, and recognized in him
elements of unusual power.
His father was perhaps too much interested in his busi
ness or his own diversions to concern himself overmuch
about BiUy's education, but the subject did not escape a
neighbor, who had brought his influence to bear in favor
of young- Mahone. He was a state senator, -with the right
to appoint a state cadet to the Virginia Military Institute.
This meant that the cadet so appointed received board
and tuition free. Interested in Billy, he persuaded his
father and himself that he ought not to waste his youth in
dissipation and grow up in ignorance, but should accept
this appointment. Mahone was prompt to do so. He
entered the Institute, and graduated with distinction at
the age pf twenty-one in the class of 1847. He consci
entiously performed the obligation which a state cadet
assumes, to teach school for three years after graduation ;
and meanwhile made other powerful friends, who advanced
him in his subsequent career.
At the Virginia Military Institute, he developed a
decided talent for engineering. Having completed his
term as school-teacher, he secured a position as surveyor
of a railroad running from Alexandria, Va., to Orange
Court House. His talents were recognized; he was
promoted ; and finally, through the influence mainly of

322 THE END OF AN ERA
Colonel Francis MaUory, of Norfolk, he was made en
gineer of a line from Norfolk to Petersburg. Here he was
confronted by the problem of securing a roadbed through
the oozy morasses of the Dismal Swamp. He solved the
problem, built the road, and made it straight as an arrow
for sixty miles, regardless of obstructions. His engineer
ing methods to obtain a solid roadbed on marshy ground,
then pronounced as impracticable, have now come to be
accepted by the profession as the best yet invented. He
rose from position to position, until, at the outbreak of
the war, when but thirty-five years old, he was president
of the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad.
He promptly forraed, and was elected colonel of, tbe
Sixth Virginia Regiraent, composed of the elite of Norfolk
and Petersburg, and, when that regiment was brigaded,
was made brigadier. Thenceforth, in every engagement
in which it took part, his comraand was conspicuous. In
the peninsular and Rappahannock campaigns, at second
Manassas, in front of Petersburg, his course was like the
eagle's, " upward and onward and true to the Hne," and,
after aU his fighting and losses, when Lee's army stacked
arms at Appomattox, Mahone's division had maintained
its organization better, and laid down more arms, than
any in the Army of Northern Virginia. The facts of his
youth and the brilliancy of his career up to date were
that night the subject of conversation until the visitors
departed. We lay awake talking for some time af^er we retired.
My father recounted his. hard fighting from June 15 to
June 19 inclusive, in the effort to hold the city untU Gen
eral Lee's arrival, and never seemed to tire of asking
about the behavior of the cadets, seeking ever to conceal
his pride in our achievements by denouncing the crime of
putting such babies into battle. In his own command, the

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 323
losses had been terrific. Many a fine fellow whom I
knew well had been killed or maimed in the hard fighting
of the previous week. Then we counted up the casualties
in our own iraraediate faraily. Since 1861, he, three sons,
and nine nephews had gone into the Confederate service.
Thus far, two had been killed and six wounded.
" You must go down the first thing in the morning to
the hospital, and see your cousin Douglas. It raay be the
last opportunity," said he, his voice softening as he spoke.
" Why, he is not much hurt, is he? " said I, for he had
been reported only slightly wounded. We were talking
of his brigade-inspector, a member of his staff, a favorite
nephew, who had always been more like a son than a
nephew. " Yes, very seriously," he said ; " at first we thought
it a mere scalp wound like yours, but his brain is affected
now, and I apprehend the most serious result."
I soon discovered that my own future was causing him
great anxiety, and that before my coming, notwithstanding
all the cares and anxieties surrounding him, he had been
thinking and planning about me. He had not, perhaps,
even confessed it to himself, but his plans involved put
ting me in a place of safety. He told me that General
Kemper, of Gettysburg fame, now permanently disabled
by the wounds received there, was organizing the Virginia
reserve forces, that is, men over forty-five years old and
boys under eighteen ; that, in doing so, the services of a
large number of driU-masters would be required ; that they
would have the rank of second lieutenants, and be assigned
to staff duty in active service as soon as their work as
drill-masters was completed ; and, finally, that he had
already been in correspondence with General Kemper,
who was an old friend, and had secured the promise of
one of these appointments for me.

324 THE END OF AN ERA
It was aU put very attractively and very seductively,
but I saw the motive very clearly. I felt rebellious about
it, but could hot but love the dear old feUow all the
more, and did not blame hira, so fearless himself, for lov
ing me to the point of pardonable cowardice concerning
myself. Knowing his sacrifices and sufferings, I felt that
I had no right to be refractory just then ; and the idea
of being a lieutenant, with bars on my collar, tickled my
vanity not a little.
I was awakened in the morning by our servant Smith
exclaiming, as he awoke father, " I declar', Marster, it looks
like Gin'l Mahone dun caught de whole Yankee army."
" What 's that ? " exclaimed father, springing out of
bed. Then Smith informed us that during the night a great
number of prisoners, captured the preceding evening by
General Mahone, had been brought into Petersburg, and
were at that moment confined under guard on a piece of
meadow in rear of our stable, near what were known as
the Ettrick Mills. Dressing quickly, we walked down to
where the prisoners were, and there we found over seven
teen hundred Union soldiers, captured the preceding day
from the divisions of Generals Mott and Gibbons by
General Mahone.
We ascertained in a general way what had occurred.
My father inquired for General Mahone, and was told he
would be down a little later ; he left a message requesting
General Mahone to call by his headquarters. They had
been warm friends, personal and political, for years ; my
father had faith in his ability, and had helped him mate
rially in his early struggles, and he in turn thought the
" Old General," as he always called him, one of the
greatest of men. We had just finished breakfast when,
trotting up through the yard, followed by a soldier on a

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 325
sway-backed, flea-bitten gray, came little General Ma
hone. He was the sauciest-looking little manikin imaginable ;
he rode a diminutive blood-like bay mare, fat, sleek, and
well-groomed, as if no war were going on ; she was quick
and nervous, and tossed her head, and champed at her bit,
and sidled about like a real live horse, instead of being
poor, jaded, and half asleep, as were many others ; her
trappings, too, were expensive, new, and stylish. The
little general looked like a perfect tin soldier. He threw
his reins to the orderly and dismounted. His person and
attire were simply unique : he was not over five feet
seven inches tall, and was as attenuated as an Italian
greyhound ; his head was finely shaped ; his eye, deep-set
beneath a heavy brow, was very bright and restless ; his
hair was worn long ; his nose was straight, prominent,
and aggressive ; his face was covered with a drooping
mustache and full beard of rich chestnut color and ex
ceeding fine texture ; he wore a large sombrero hat, with
out plume, cocked on one side, and decorated with a
division badge ; he had a hunting-shirt of gray, with
roUing collar, plaited about the waist, and tucked into
his trousers, which were also plaited about the waist
band, sweUed at the hips, and tapering to the ankle ;
while he wore boots, his trousers covered them ; those
boots were as small as a woman's, and exquisitely made ;
his linen was of the very finest and softest, — nobody could
guess how he procured it ; and when he ungloved one
little hand, it was almost as diminutive and frail as the
foot of a song-bird ; he had no sword, but wore a sword-
belt with the straps linked together, and in his hand he
carried a slender wand of a stick. Altogether, he was the
oddest and daintiest little specimen of humanity I had
ever seen. His voice was almost a falsetto tenor.

326 THE END OF AN ERA
" Ah ! my dear general," he exclaimed, advancing
cheerily, and extending his hand ; " I received your mes
sage and was delighted, for I can never pass you by.''
Refusing to have breakfast replaced, be said, "No, no, no,
you know I am tortured with my old enemy, dyspepsia. I
can take nothing but milk ; and I suffer so without that
that I have brought my Alderney cow along with me in
all our campaigns."
Most of the staff he knew ; as he looked inquiringly at
me, my father presented me. A bright, affectionate smile
spread over his face.
" Good boy ! " said he ; "I knew the old Virginia Mili
tary Institute would show folks what fighting is, if she
ever had a chance." Then he turned to my father and
said, " General, give him to me ; I 'U have plenty for him
to do." That remark cost the old gentleraan many an
anxious hour.
Then the party sat down, and Mahone with his little
stick, and in his peculiar graphic way, drew in the sand
the diagram of yesterday's operations, and explained how
he and his gallant division had " doubled 'em up," as be
loved to call it. And this is how it was : —
Grant's left and our right were south of Petersburg,
near the Jerusalem plank road. Grant had a way of
putting one line iramediately opposite us to occupy us,
and then forming a second line a mile or so in rear, which
he would extend beyond the first, and then throw it
forward. By this process he sought to envelop our right
flank. Learning that the Union troops on our right were
in this position. General Lee sent out General Cadmus
Wilcox, with a division of A. P. Hill's corps, to take posi
tion in rear of the enemy's rear line, and General Mahone,
with his division, to interpose between the enemy's two
lines and attack the line nearest to us. When Wilcox

THE GRUB BECOMES A BUTTERFLY 327
heard Mahone's attack upon the first line, he was to
attack the rear of the second line.
Mahone went in, took his position, attacked, " doubled
up " Grant's left, ran the Union soldiers out of their own
lines into ours, and captured 1742 prisoners, four light
guns, and eight staiidawis, and Wilcox spent the day
fumbling and fiddling about and doing nothing. From
then until now he has been explaining, sometimes saying
A. P. Hill never fuUy informed him of what he was ex
pected to do, sometimes claiming that Mahone acted with
out cooperating with him, and always disposed to grumble
and try to put the blame upon Mahone for achieving a
success so much more brilliant than his own.
Be that as it may, " Little BiUy Mahone," that sunlit
June morning, was one of the brightest, merriest little
soldiers in the Confederacy, and never imagined, as he
told us how it was done and chuckled over the surprise
of the enemy, that any one would afterwards blame him
for what he had done. Even then he had, by his brilliant
work, gained such lodgment in General Lee's regard that
he was rapidly taking rank in his confidence alongside of
Longstreet and A. P. Hill.
As he mounted his little thoroughbred, clapped his
spurs to her, touched his hat, and galloped away, I felt
as if I would give anything in this world if my father
would consent to his proposition, — " Give him to me."
A little later, we walked down to the hospital, and
found my poor cousin delirious ; in a day or two he was
dead, and our family contributed one more victim to the
Juggernaut of war.

CHAPTER XXI
LIFE AT PETEESBUE6
Following close upon Mahone's successful manoeuvre
came the raid of General Wilson around our right flank,
whereby he attempted to destroy General Lee's line of
supply, — the Southside Railroad. He was promptly and
hotly attacked and driven off near Black's and White's
Station by General W. H. F. Lee ; then, pursuing the
line of the Danville Railroad, he was repulsed at Staun
ton River bridge by local militia ; turning back from
that point to rejoin the Union army, Hampton, Fitz Lee,
Heth, and Mahone attacked him near Reams's Station,
and handled him so roughly that he became the laughing
stock of Lee's army. We at Petersburg saw nothing of
these operations, but the incidents of Wilson's discomfi
ture and final rout furnished merriment for the camps
during the ensuing period of comparative inactivity.
About the middle of July, I visited Richmond to in
quire about my appointment as drill-master. General
Kemper's reception was pompous ; he was a striking-
looking man, notwithstanding a waxen pallor proceeding
from the severe wounds he had received at Gettysburg;
he apparently suffered great pain ; hobbling back and
forth upon his crutches, he descanted, with loud voice and
consequential manner, upon the noble work of preparing
raw troops for ser-vice in the field. He also indulged in
sentimental flights upon military glory, not failing to
refer to the fact that he was the only survivor of Pickett's

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 329
three brigadiers who entered the fight at Gettysburg.
General Kemper had a good record as a soldier, both in
Mexico and in our own service; otherwise, judging by
manner and conversation alone, he would have been
classed as a Bombastes Furioso.
The upshot of our interview was the promise of a com
mission, coupled with the information that my duties
under it would not begin before October 1, as his depart
ment was not yet fully organized ; that was delightful, for
Petersburg had fascinated me, and I hurried back there.
My father was not overpleased at my reappearance. He
had depended upon his friend Kemper to put me away
in sorae safe place ; I, on the other hand, still cherished
the hope that he might yet listen to Mahone's request
that he should give me to hira.
If a boy just closing the Iliad, the Odyssey, or the
^neid, should be permitted to behold their heroes in
the flesh, and performing the valorous deeds which im
mortalize them, fancy what would be his ecstasy ! Yet,
for three years past, modern heroes had come upon the
stage who were, in my enthusiastic estimate of their
powers, second to no half-clothed ancient whose deeds are
celebrated by Homer or Virgil.
Until now, I had Hved in torturing apprehension lest
a perverse fate should deny me opportunity to see them,
and to foUow, however humbly, leaders who had been
the subject of my thoughts by day and dreams by night
since the great struggle began. Here they were all about
me ; a house, or a tent by the roadside, decorated with
a headquarters flag, guarded by a few couriers, was all
that stood between their greatness and the humblest pri
vate in the army. They were riding back and forth, and
going out and coming in at all hours, so that everybody
saw them.

330 THE END OF AN ERA
Two of the immortals of that army had been snatched
away before my day, — Stonewall Jackson of the infantry,
and Jeb Stuart of the cavalry. But the presence of a
glorious company stiU gave romantic interest to the deeds
of the Army of Northern Virginia. Robert E. Lee, Beau
regard, A. P. Hill, Ewell, Anderson, Hampton, Pickett,
Mahone, W. H. F. Lee (" Rooney "), Gordon, Fitz Lee,
Fields, Heth, Hoke, and a host of lesser lights were still
actors in its heroic struggles. The first shall be last in
the description of these men as I saw them almost daily.
Of Anderson, Fields, and Hoke I remember very little,
and Longstreet was absent.
Next to General Lee in point of rank and fame was
General Beauregard. He had been hurried up with his
comraand in May from Charleston to defend Petersburg
until Lee's army would reach the scene. Under him, my
father's command had borne the brunt of the first assaults
upon Petersburg. He was attached to General Wise, and
as he frequently visited our quarters, I saw hira often.
Beauregard was a soldier of decided ability, and deserves
great credit for the early defense of Petersburg. He was
heavily handicapped throughout the war by the dislike of
Mr. Davis. If he had been given more favorable opportu
nities. General Beauregard would occupy a more prominent
place in the history of the civil war. In appearance, he
was a petite Frenchman. His uniform fitted to perfection,
he was always punctiliously neat, his manners were fault
less and deferential. His voice was pleasant and insinu
ating, with a perceptible foreign accent. His apprehen
sion was quick, his observation and judgment alert, his
expressions terse and vigorous. Like many of our other
distinguished soldiers, especially of his race, he was fond
of the society of the gentler sex, and at his best when in
their company.

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 331
General A. P. Hill was the opposite of General Beau
regard in appearance and in manner. He was of the old-
fashioned Araerican type of handsome raen. He was what
men caU a " men's raan." He had a high brow, a large
nose and mouth, and his face was covered with a full,
dark beard. He dressed plainly, not to say roughly. He
wore a woolen shirt, and frequently appeared, especially
in action, attired in a shell jacket. About his uniform he
had little or no ornamentation, hardly more, in fact, than
the insignia of rank upon his collar. Beauregard, like a
true Frenchman, was often accompanied by a full staff.
Hill, on the other hand, appeared to care little for a staff.
When he was kiUed, at the time our lines were broken
and Petersburg evacuated, although he was a lieutenant-
general, he was in advance of his line, accompanied by a
single courier. General Hill gave the impression of being
reticent, or, at any rate, uncommunicative. Neither in
aspect nor manner of speech did he appear to measure
up to his great fighting record. Yet great it was, for he
enjoys the unique distinction of having been named by
both Lee and Jackson during the delirium of their last
moments. When Stonewall was unconscious and dying, " A. P.
Hill, prepare for action," was one of the last things he
said. When, long after the war had ended. General Lee
lay unconscious, breathing his last, in quiet Lexington, he
exclaimed, " A. P. Hill raust move up." A. P. Hill
would seem to have been the one to whom both these
great leaders turned in a great crisis, as if feeling that, if
he could not save the situation, nothing could. What
nobler tribute from his commanders could a soldier wish ?
Yet, illustrious as were the services of General HiU, I do
not recall ever hearing anybody speak of a close intimacy
with him, or of his being deeply attached to any individ-

332 THE END OF AN ERA
ual. He appeared to have no interest in the fair sex.
His soul seemed concentrated and absorbed in fighting.
What success he might have had in independent com
mand, no one can conjecture. His farae rests in his intel
ligent, tireless, and courageous execution of the commands
of Lee and Jackson.
Dear old General EweU ! No Southern soldier can re
call his name without a flush of pride. Posterity wiU
class him, under Lee and Jackson, with men like Picton
under Wellington. When I first saw him, old " Fighting
Dick," as he was caUed, had lost a leg ; but he was stiU
in the business enthusiastically, as if he possessed as many
legs as a centipede. He was attached to my father. Our
families were intimate. He would ride up to our quar
ters, and, seated on horseback, talk by the hour over the
military and political outlook. He said his wooden leg
made it too much trouble to dismount and remount. Re
moving his hat to catch the summer breezes, he displayed
a dome-like head, bald at the top, the side-locks brushed
straight forward ; his fierce, grizzled mustaches sticking
up and sticking out like those about the muzzle of a ter
rier. Fighting was beyond question the ruling passion of
his life. His eye had the expression we see in hawks and
gamecocks. Yet the man's nature, in every domestic and
social relation, was the gentlest, the simplest, the most
credulous and affectionate imaginable. He was small of
stature, and his clothes, about which he was indifferent,
looked as if raade for a larger man. Up to the time he
lost his leg, he was regarded as the toughest and most en
during man in the army. Not by any means an ascetic,
he could, upon occasion, march as long, sleep and eat as
little, and work as hard, as the great Stonewall himself.
The commander of Lee's cavalry at this time was
General Wade Hampton, of South Carolina. My ideas

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 333

of cavalrymen had been derived to a large extent from
Lever's troopers in " Charles O'Malley," one of the most
fascinating books ever placed in the hands of boys with
military inclinations. Jeb Stuart's leadership of the Con
federate cavalry had elevated that ideal somewhat, without
detracting from the gallant, devil-may-care recklessness
pervading the story of the Irish dragoon. The fighting
morale of Stuart's cavalry was nowise impaired under the
dashing leadership of Hampton. He was as dauntless
as Stuart, and, if anything, a more distinguished-looking
man. Thoroughly inured to fatigue by a lifetime spent
in the saddle or in the field, his reputation as a sports
man was second only to his farae as a cavalryman. A
born aristocrat, his breeding showed itself in every fea
ture, word, and look. Yet his manners and bearing with
the troops were so thoroughly deraocratic, and his fear
lessness in action so conspicuous, that no man ever excited
more enthusiasm. He rode like a centaur, and possessed
a form and face so noble that men vied with women in
adrairation of General Hampton.
His two most prominent Heutenants were William
Henry Fitzhugh Lee and Fitzhugh Lee ; the former a
son, the latter a nephew, of the commander of the army.
These cousins were strikingly unlike.
General WiUiam H. F. Lee, famiUarly caUed " Rooney,"
had lost much tirae from active service. He was captured
early in 1863, and detained in prison until about May,
1864. Upon his return to active service, he quickly rees
tablished himself by energetic work ; and the manner in
which he attacked and foUowed up General Wilson fixed
upon him anew the affections of the army. He was an
immense man, probably six feet three or four inches taU ;
and, while not very fleshy, I remember that I wondered,
when I first saw him, how he could find a horse powerful

334 THE END OF AN ERA
enough to bear him upon a long ride ! In youth, he had
figured as stroke-oar at Harvard. Although of abste
mious habits, his complexion was florid. His hands and
feet were immense, and in company he appeared to be
ill at ease. His bearing was, however, excellent, and his
voice, manner, and everything about him bespoke the
gentleman. Speaking of cavalry, a horse simile is admis
sible. " Rooney " Lee, contrasted with Hampton, sug
gested a Norman Percheron beside a thoroughbred ; Gen
eral Fitzhugh Lee, a pony-built hunter. I have known all
the Lees of my day and generation, — the great general, his
brothers, his sons, nephews, and grandsons, — and Gen
eral " Rooney " Lee I regarded and esteemed more highly
than any of the narae, except his father. Yet he was tbe
least showy of that distinguished family. This gentleman
— a gentleman always and everywhere — would have
made a raore conspicuous reputation in the cavalry, if the
war had not ended so soon after his return frora his lonsr o
imprisonment. He had not much humor in his composi
tion, although keenly appreciative of it in others. He
was a widower in 1864, and nothing of a society man,
although a gallant admirer of women. After the war, he
married a beautiful descendant of Pocahontas, Miss Tabb
Boiling, of Petersburg. He had none of the tricks which
gain popularity, but somehow he grappled to him the
men of his command with hooks of steel, and is remem
bered by his veterans with as much affection as any offi
cer in Lee's army.
His opposite in everything but courage was his cousin,
Fitzhugh Lee, called " Fitz " by everybody. Fitz Lee
combined in himself not only the blood of the Lees, but
of George Mason, one of the greatest of our Revolutionary
leaders. The strain of jollity pervading him probably
came from the Masons ; for while " Light Horse Harry"

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 335
was in his day a rattling blade, the Lees were, as a rule,
quiet folk. His father. Commodore Smith Lee, was all
gentleness and urbanity. On the other hand, the Masons,
from the first George Mason, of Stafford, who sympa
thized with Bacon in his rebellion, down to the grand
father of Fitz Lee, convey the impression of a decided
fondness for " fighting, fiddling, and fun." Fitz gradu
ated at West Point in 1856, more distinguished for horse
manship than anything else. Doubtless he might have
done better if he had tried. He had hosts of friends, and
no end of enjoyment, and took to the cavalry as a duck
does to water. In his service upon the plains prior to
the war, an Indian found his short, stout thigh a good
pincushion for a feathered arrow, and after his conva
lescence, he was assigned to duty as cavalry instructor at
the United States Military Academy. From that position
he resigned at the outbreak of the war. He was now, at
the age of twenty-nine, a brigadier-general, a bachelor,
and gay cavalier of ladies.
The first time I ever saw him was in June, 1864, in
Richmond. In those days Third Street, leading out to
the pretty heights of Gamble's Hill, was the favorite even
ing promenade. The people of Richmond, save such as
visited friends in the country, remained in to-wn through
out the suramer, for no places of public resort were open,
and nobody had the means to go, if they had been
open. On summer nights the better classes, maid and
matron, old men, high officers, soldiers, boys and girls,
strolled back and forth on Third Street to catch the
southern breeze upon the hill, cooled by its passage
across the falls of the James; to watch the belching
furnaces of the Tredegar cannon foundry on the river
banks below ; and to listen to the band which sometimes
played upon the hiU. While thus diverting myself one

336 THE END OF AN ERA
evening with a party of young friends, we saw a string
of cavalry horses held in front of the residence of a pro
minent citizen, and, as we approached, heard the sound
of a piano, accompanied by a male and a female voice,
singing " The Gypsy Countess." The curtains of the
parlor were drawn back to relieve the intense sultriness,
and the party was visible from the street. A strong, deep
voice sang the familiar part of the duet, — " Come, fly
with me now." The sweet answer was returned in female
notes, " Can I trust to thy vow? " Then the two warbled
the refrain together, and the performance finally con
cluded araid raerry laughter and vigorous applause.
The perforraance was varied by the appearance of a
cavalryman with his banjo. He gave them sorae jingling
rausic, which sent everybody's blood bounding. Knowing
the host, we felt no hesitation about joining the party
of onlookers upon the portico, and there we beheld Fitz
Lee with his staff, making a jolly night of it as they
passed through Richmond on their way to Petersburg.
The house was the home of one of his favorite young
staff officers, whose sister was Fitz Lee's partner in the
duet. In appearance. General Lee was short, thickset,
already inclined to stoutness ; with a square head and
short neck upon broad shoulders, a merry eye, and a joy
ous voice of great power ; ruddy, full-bearded, and over
flowing with animal spirits. At last the banjo struck up
his favorite air : —
" If you want to have a good time,
Jine the cavalry,
Jine the cavalry,
Jine the cavalry."
Fitz and staff joined in the refrain with mighty zest,
making the house ring with their hilarity.
This over, they announced their departure for Peters-

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 337
burg, and a mighty hubbub they made. The ladies of
the house and the young girls brought food and dainties
for their haversacks, and wearing apparel for use in
camp : the packing of these stores took place in the hall
way, and then followed the farewells. It was " Good-by,
Lucy," " Good-by, Mary," " Good-by, Jennie," and Fitz
Lee must have been kin to a great many of those
pretty girls. His young staff officer kissed his mother
and sister farewell ; Fitz Lee, true to his cavalry instincts,
began kissing also ; this doubtless inspired his young
captain to extend like courtesies to visitors as well as
the family, and wherever he led, Fitz followed. By the
time their plunder had been placed upon their steeds, and
they, with jangling spurs, had scrambled to their saddles,
Fitz Lee and staff had taken " cavalry toll " from every
pretty girl in sight. Finally, with many fond adieus and
waving plumes, they rode away down Cary Street, their
mounted banjoist playing the air, and they singing in
chorus, — " If you want to have a good time, jine the
cavalry." They passed over the bridge across the James, their
route to Petersburg illuminated by the harvest moon, and
a day or two afterwards were making it very uncomfort
able for General Wilson at Reams's Station. In later
days, General Fitz and I were political opponents, but
that fact never obliterated my affectionate remembrance
of his merry, gallant cavalry leadership, or of the debt
I owe him for the noble tribute he has placed upon
record to my father's unflinching courage upon the re
treat, and until the last gun was fired at Appomattox.
Less conspicuous than Hampton and the Lees was the
cavalry brigadier-general, Deering. " Jim " Deering, as
everybody called him, was a very young man ; if I mis
take not, he was a second-class man at West Point when

338 THE END OF AN ERA
the war broke out ; yet, when killed upon the retreat from
Petersburg, he had risen to the command of a brigade.
He was a man of remarkable health and strength and
courage, with a multitude of friends. Pursuing the
horse simile, under which the three others have been
grouped, he raay be likened to a promising colt of fault
less breeding, with a briUiant record in his first year's
perforraance. Deering was too young when kiUed to be
classed among the great leaders, but was a youngster of
unusual military instinct.
Returning to the infantry, there was Pickett, whose
name is linked forever with that of Gettysburg. Pickett
was a striking figure : he was a tawny man, of medium
height and of stout build ; his long yellow hair was
thick, hanging about his ears and shoulders, suggestive
of a lion's mane. He was blue-eyed, with white eye
lashes, florid complexion, and reddish mustache and im
perial emphasizing his blonde appearance ; he was of the
Saxon type. Pickett was a gentleman by birth. He had
a great nuraber of relatives and friends in Richmond and
in the James River section ; they were justly proud of
his military career. He was a high and a free liver, and
often declared that, to fight like a gentleman, a man must
eat and drink like a gentleman. General Lee was a
very prudent and abstemious man himself, but never
censorious touching the raode of Hfe of his inferiors
when they discharged the duties assigned to them. In
this respect he was different from Stonewall Jackson,
who rather expected those under his command to conform
to his simple mode of life. Pickett was a trained soldier
and loved fighting. Fitz Lee tells a characteristic anec
dote of him : As he rode into the fight at Gettysburg, in
passing General Lee he cried out, pointing to the front,
" Come on, Fitz, and go with us ; we shall have lots of

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 339
fun there presently." It was an odd sort of fun he had
that day ; but I have no doubt it was the life in which he
was happiest.
I have already described Mahone, and now come to
John B. Gordon, of Georgia, a division commander under
General Lee, who had attained marked distinction in
spite of the fact that he was not a West Pointer. Gor
don is still alive, and not appreciably changed from what
he was in '64; he was then a tall, spare-built young
fellow, of very military bearing, his handsorae face
adorned by a deep gash received in one of the battles of
the valley. The military genius of General Gordon was
never tested in any independent coramand, but his fear
lessness and eagerness to assail the enemy, whenever and
wherever he was ordered to do so, made him one of the
raost conspicuous and popular commanders under General
Lee. Wherever he appeared, the soldiers flocked about
him and cheered him ; wherever he comraanded, they felt
confident of hot work ; and wherever he led (he never
foUowed), the soldiers were willing to go, because they
had sublirae faith in his fidelity and courage. We often
saw General Gordon, who was a warm admirer of my
father ; and to this day I delight to honor him as one of
the truest and bravest of Lee's lieutenants.
It has always seemed to me that sufficient recognition
is not given to the great service rendered by the artillery.
This is probably due to the fact that it is under the
command and direction of some general officer, who re
ceives credit for success. Then, too, the numbers of the
artillery are not sufficient to attract attention, as in the
case of cavalry or infantry, when, in large bodies, they
are conspicuously courageous. General Lee's chief of
artillery. General Long, is seldom heard of in the accounts
of the fighting about Petersburg, and although artillery

340 THE END OF AN ERA
played a prominent part in every engagement, the com
manders are seldom spoken of, while infantry and cav
alry officers are noticed conspicuously. No general ever
commanded a finer body of young artillery officers than
General Lee. Alexander, Pegram, Haskell, Carter, Brax
ton, Parker, Sturtevant, Breathitt, and a number of others
I raight narae, were counted as the very flower of the
army. Yet they are gradually disappearing from view in
the prominence given to the officers in higher command.
Colonel William J. Pegram was the most picturesque
figure among these many distinguished artillerists. With
out early military training, save in our little boy-soldier
company in Richmond, he entered the service as a pri
vate, and by his pronounced courage and military talents
became a colonel at the age of twenty-one, and was killed
at the age of twenty-three years, when his promotion to
brigadier-general had been ordered. Pegram was a boyish-
looking fellow, very near-sighted, and, with his gold spec
tacles and clean-shaven face, looked more like a student of
divinity than a soldier. He was reticent, modest, but of
boundless ambition. He had indulged in none of the dis
sipations of youth, and was extremely pious. He loved
fighting, feared nothing, and was an exacting disciplina
rian. General Lee, while undemonstrative in most things,
regarded " Willie " Pegram, as everybody caUed him,
with undisguised affection and pride.
John HaskeU, of South Carolina, was another of his ar
tillery paladins, who was never so happy as when standing
amid the smoke of his own batteries. To him primarily
was due in a great measure the saving of Lee's army at
the crater fight. But I must pass from the description of
these lesser lights to one who, like Saul, towered, from
his shoulders and upward, tallest among all the people.
It is impossible to speak of General Lee without seem-

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 341
ing to deal in hyperbole. He had assumed command of
the Virginia army under peculiar circumstances. It had
been organized at Manassas in '61 under Beauregard and
Joseph E. Johnston. In the winter of '61 and '62, it had
been transferred to the peninsula between the York and
the James, still under the command of General Johnston.
Under him it retreated towards Richmond, and he re
mained in command until wounded in the battle of Seven
Pines. General Johnston had inspired the army with
great confidence in his ability, and undoubtedly possessed
the quality of securing the deep and abiding faith and
affection of his troops. During the period above de
scribed. General Lee had not gained ground in public
esteem. In '61, he had been assigned to the command
and direction of those impossible campaigns in West Vir
ginia from which he had emerged with a loss of prestige.
They failed, as any campaign must have done in such
a country. Whether or not due allowance was made for
conditions, in judging of Lee's ability, need not be dis
cussed. Suffice it to say, that after the termination of
the West Virginia campaign, General Lee was sent to
Charleston, where he was engaged in strengthening the
fortifications until May, 1862, and that in June accident
called him to the command of the army about Richmond.
It is no disparagement of General Lee to say that there
were many who, at the time, regarded the wounding of
General Johnston as a profound misfortune. But it was
not long before Lee established himself in the affection
and confidence of that army, and took a place never occu
pied by any one else. Before the last gun fired at Mal
vern Hill, at the close of the seven days' fighting, the
army had become known as Lee's army. It never bad
another name, and as such it wiU go down to history.
I have seen many pictures of General Lee, but never

342 THE END OF AN ERA
one that conveyed a correct impression of his appearance.
Above the ordinary size, his proportions were perfect.
His form had fuUness, without any appearance of super
fluous flesh, and was as erect as that of a cadet, without
the slightest apparent constraint. His features are too
well known to need description, but no representation of
General Lee which I have ever seen properly conveys the
light and softness of his eye, the tenderness and intellectu
ality of his mouth, or the indescribable refinement of his
face. One picture gives hira a meatiness about the nose ;
another, hard or coarse lines about the mouth ; another,
heaviness about the chin. None of them give the effect
of his hair and beard. I have seen all the great men of
our times, except Mr. Lincoln, and have no hesitation in
saying that Robert E. Lee was incomparably the greatest-
looking man I ever saw. I say the greatest-looking. By
this I do not mean to provoke discussion whether he
was, in fact, the greatest raan of his age. One thing is,
however, certain. Every man in that army believed that
Robert E. Lee was the greatest man alive, and their faith
in him alone kept that army together during the last six
months of its existence.
There was nothing of the pomp or panoply of war about
the headquarters, or the military government, or the bear
ing, of General Lee. The place selected as his headquar
ters was unpretentious. The officers of his staff had none
of the insolence of martinets. Oddly enough, the three
most prominent members of his staff — Colonel Venahle,
Colonel Marshall, and Colonel Walter Taylor — were
not even West Pointers. Persons having business with
his headquarters were treated like human beings, and
courtesy, considerateness, and even deference were shown
to the humblest. He had no gilded retinue, but a devoted
band of simple scouts and couriers, who, in their quietness

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 343
and simplicity, modeled themselves after him. General
Lee as often rode out to consult with his subordinates as
he sent for them to come to him. The sight of him upon
the roadside, or in the trenches, was as common as that
of any subordinate in the army. When he approached or
disappeared, it was with no blare of trumpets or clank
of equipments. Mounted upon his historic war-horse
" Traveler," he ambled quietly about, keeping his eye
upon everything pertaining to the care and defense of
his army. "Traveler" was no pedigreed, wide-nostriled,
gazelle-eyed thoroughbred. He was a close-coupled,
round-barreled, healthy, comfortable, gentleman's saddle-
horse. Gray, with black points, he was sound in eye,
wind, and limb, without strain, sprain, spavin, or secretion
of any sort ; ready to go, and able to stay ; and yet with
out a single fancy trick, or the pretentious bearing of
the typical charger. He was a horse bought by General
Lee during his West Virginia campaign.
When General Lee rode up to our headquarters, or
elsewhere, he came as unostentatiously as if he had been
the head of a plantation, riding over his fields to inquire
and give directions about ploughing or seeding. He ap
peared to have no mighty secrets concealed from his sub
ordinates. He assumed no airs of superior authority. He
repelled no kindly inquiries, and was capable of jocular
remarks. He did not hold himself aloof in solitary gran
deur. His bearing was that of a friend having a comraon
interest in a common venture with the person addressed,
and as if he assumed that his subordinate was as deeply
concerned as himself in its success. Whatever greatness
was accorded to him was not of his own seeking. He was
less of an actor than any man I ever saw. But the im
pression which that man made by his presence, and by his
leadership, upon all who came in contact with him, can be

344 THE END OF AN ERA
described by no other term than that of grandeur. When
I have stood at evening, and watched the great clouds
banked in the west, and tinged by evening sunlight;
when, on the Western plains, I have looked at the peaks
of the Rocky Mountains outlined against the sky ; when,
in mid-ocean, I have seen the limitless waters encircling
us, unbounded save by the infinite horizon, — the gran
deur, the vastness of these have invariably suggested
thoughts of General Robert E. Lee. Certain it is that the
Confederacy contained no other man like him. When its
brief career was ended, in him was centred, as in no other
man, the trust, the love, almost the worship, of those who
remained steadfast to the end. When he said that the
career of the Confederacy was ended ; that the hope of
an independent government must be abandoned ; that all
had been done which mortals could accomplish against the
power of overwhelming numbers and resources ; and that
the duty of the future was to abandon the dream of a con
federacy, and to render a new and cheerful allegiance to
a reunited government, — his utterances were accepted as
true as Holy Writ. No other human being upon earth,
no other earthly power, could have produced such acquies
cence, or could have compelled such prompt acceptance
of that final and irreversible judgment.
Of General Lee's military greatness, absolute or rela
tive, I shaU not speak ; of his moral greatness I need not.
The former, in view of the conditions with which he was
hampered, must leave a great deal to speculation and con
jecture ; the latter is acknowledged by all the world. The
man who could so stamp his impress upon his nation, ren
dering all others insignificant beside him, and yet die
without an eneray ; tbe soldier who could raake love for
his person a substitute for pay and clothing and food, and
could, by the constraint of that love, hold together a naked,

LIFE AT PETERSBURG 345
starving band, and transform it into a fighting army ;
the heart which, after the failure of its great endeavor,
could break in silence, and die without the utterance of
one word of bitterness, — such a man, such a soldier, such
a heart, must have been great indeed, — great beyond the
power of eulogy.
Not in five hundred years does the opportunity come
to any boy, I care not who he may be, to witness scenes
like these, or live in daily contact with men whose names
wiU endure as long as man loves mUitary glory.

CHAPTER XXII
THE BATTLE OF THE CRATEE
Much of the month of July we passed in the trenches.
Father was in comraand of Petersburg, and Colonel J.
Thomas Goode commanded the brigade, but we visited it
almost daily. It was assigned to Bushrod Johnson's divi
sion, and our position was next to the South Carolinians
under Elliott. Our left was about a hundred yards south
of a bastion known as Elliott's salient.
Life in the trenches was indescribably monotonous and
uncomfortable. In time of sunshine, the reflected heat
from the new red-clay embankments was intense, and un
relieved by shade or breeze ; and in wet weather one was
ankle-deep in tough, clinging mud. The incessant shell
ing and picket-firing made extreme caution necessary in
moving about ; and each day, almost each hour, added to
the Hst of casualties. The opposing lines were not over
two hundred yards apart, and the distance between the
rifle-pits was about one hundred yards. Both sides had
attained accurate marksmanship, which they practiced
with merciless activity in picking off raen. One may
fancy the state of mind of soldiers thus confined, who
knew that even the act of going to a spring for water
involved risk of life or limb.
The men resorted to many expedients to secure some
degree of comfort and protection. They learned to bur
row like conies. Into the sides of the trenches and trav
erses they went with bayonet and tin cups to secure shade

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 347
or protection from rain. Soon, such was their proficiency
that, at sultry midday or during a rainfall, one might look
up or down the trenches without seeing anybody but the
sentinel. At sound of the drum, the heads of the soldiers
would pop up and out of the earth, as if they had been
prairie-dogs or gophers. Still, many lives were lost by
the indifference to danger which is begotten by living
constantly in its presence.
To appreciate fuUy the truth that men are but children
of a larger growth, one raust have commanded soldiers.
Without constant guidance and government and punish
ment, they become careless about clothes, food, ammuni
tion, cleanliness, and even personal safety. They will at
once eat or throw away the rations furnished for several
days, never considering the morrow. They will cast aside
or give away their clothing because to-day is warm, never
calculating that to-morrow they may be suffering for the
lack of it. They wiU open their cartridge-boxes and dump
their cartridges on the roadside to lighten their load,
although a few hours later their lives raay depend upon
having a full supply. When they draw their pay, their
first object is to find some way to get rid of it as quickly
as possible. An officer, to be really efficient, must add
to the qualities of courage and firmness those of nurse,
monitor, and purveyor for grown-up children, in whom the
bumps of improvidence and destructiveness are abnormally
developed. Thus, in spite of warnings and threat of punishment
for failure to approach and depart from the lines by the
protected covered ways, it was impossible to make the
men observe these reasonable precautions. For a long
time they had been shot at, night and day. A man, be
cause he had not been hit, would soon come to regard
himself as invulnerable. The fact that his comrades had

348 THE END OF AN ERA
been kiUed or wounded appeared to make little impres
sion upon him. Past immunity made him so confident
that he would walk coolly over the same exposed ground
where somebody else had been shot the day before. The
"spat," "whiz,'" "zip" of hostile buUets would not even
make hira quicken his pace. Mayhap he would take his
short pipe out of his mouth and yeU defiantly, "Ah-h —
Yank — yer — kain't — -shoot," and go on his way tempt
ing fate, until a buUet struck him and he was dead, or
maimed for life. At times I questioned whether these
soldiers were not really seeking relief by death or wounds
from the torture of such intolerable life. It was enough
to make men mad and reckless.
Occasionally we had suspension of firing. At such times
even ladies visited 'the trenches. I recall particularly one
party of pretty girls who came over from Richmond, rode
out on horseback to a point in rear of our position, and,
dismounting, advanced boldly across the exposed ground,
and stood for some time on our parapets watching the
Union lines. The intrenchments of the enemy were lined
with soldiers sunning themselves, or engaged in a favorite
occupation familiar to all old soldiers, but not to be de
scribed in polite literature. " Hello, Johnnie ! it 's ladies'
day, ain't it ? " caUed out a fellow from a rifle-pit, when
he saw the riding-habits outlined against the sky.
We often talked to each other. Sometimes our con
versation was civil and kindly enough. Sometimes it
was facetious. At others it was of the grossest and most
unmentionable character. On an occasion like this,
the presence of ladies was greeted as a high compliment
by our men, and accepted by the enemy as gratifying
evidence of our confidence in their good faith. By
both sides the fair visitors were treated with the utmost
deference.

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 349
A truce like that described would be terminated by
some one calling out from the rifle-pits that orders had
corae to reopen fire at a designated time, sufficiently remote
to allow everybody to seek cover. When the hour arrived,
at it again they would go, as fiercely as ever. The follow
ing incident will convey some idea of the precision of
marksmanship attained by constant practice. It was told
rae repeatedly by Isaac Newman, one of the most fearless
and truthful men I ever knew. He was the survivor of
the episode. Newman and a comrade, whose name was
Blake, I think, were detailed as sharpshooters in one of
the rifle-pits in our front. Sharpshooters were posted and
relieved at night, and but once in twenty-four hours. The
attempt to reach or return from a rifle-pit in the daytime
would have been followed by certain death. The pit was
a hole in the ground large enough to contain two men.
A curtain of earth was thrown up in front, with a narrow
embrasure through which to fire. On the inside was a
small banquette in front, upon which the men could sit
or kneel when firing. Newman and Blake were reckless
and resourceful chaps. They hit upon the device of tak
ing a small looking-glass into the pit with them. This
they hung opposite the embrasure.
By this arrangement they could sit on the banquette,
with their backs to the enemy, and see in the looking-
glass all that was going on in front, without exposing their
heads. They were inveterate card-players. Neither had
any money, but for stakes they used square bits of tobacco
cut the size of a " chaw." This was high stakes for Con
federate soldiers. With a greasy, well-thumbed pack of
playing-cards, they indulged in the excitement of seven-up
for several hours. The stakes were placed, and the cards
thrown down upon the part of the banquette which
lay between them under the embrasure. As the game

350 THE END OF AN ERA
proceeded, both congratulated themselves that they had
discovered a device and diversion which made life in a
rifle-pit comparatively safe and endurable. Instead of
craning and peeping on the lookout, aU that was neces
sary was to cast a glance now and then at the looking-
glass. OccasionaUy, one or the other would stick his cap
on the end of a gun, and put it up above the breastwork,
and some watchful sharpshooter would bang away at it.
After a while, Newman, who had lost all his tobacco, see
ing his last chew was to be won by Blake, snatched the
stakes, and stuck a chew into his mouth. This was fol
lowed by some friendly scuffiing and horse-play, in the
course of which Blake's head was incautiously exposed
for an instant at the embrasure. It was for but a mo
ment, but that moment was fatal. Zip ! spat ! came a
bullet, quick as a flash. It crashed through poor Blake's
temples and broke the looking-glass. Newman was left
in the pit with the dead body of Blake until midnight.
When relieved, he returned to the lines bearing the re
mains of his friend upon his shoulders.
In telling this story, Newman always followed it by
adding that he believed the man who killed Blake had a
personal grudge against him, because the next raorning he
made a pot of coffee, the last he had, and set it on the
parapet to cool ; and just as he reached up for it, a shot,
fired from the same rifle-pit whence Blake had been kiUed,
struck the coffee-pot, and emptied its scalding contents
down his jacket sleeve.
When our troops first manned the lines, the things most
dreaded were the great mortar-shells. They were partic
ularly terrible at night. Their parabolas through the air
were watched with intense apprehension, and their explo
sion seemed to threaten annihilation. Within a week,
they had ceased to occasion any other feeling among the

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 361
men than a desire to secure their fragments. They had
learned to fear more danger from minie balls than from
mortar-shells. There was little chance of a shell's faUing
upon the men, for they could see it and get out of the
way. Unless it did actually strike some one in its descent,
the earth was so tunneled and pitted that it was apt to fall
into some depression, where its fragments would be stopped
and rendered harmless by the surrounding walls of dirt.
Iron was becoming scarce. As inducement to collecting
scrap-iron for our cannon foundries, furloughs were
offered, a day for so many pounds collected. Thus, gath
ering fragments of sheU became an active industry among
the troops. So keen was their quest that sometimes they
would start towards the point where a mortar-sheU fell,
even before it exploded.
Such was life in the trenches before Petersburg. Look
ing back at it now, one wonders that everybody was not
kiUed, or did not die from exposure. But, at the time, no
man there personally expected to be killed, and there was
something — nobody can define what it was — which made
the experience by no means so horrible as it now seems.
I doubt if all these Httle things made such deep impres
sions upon older men. I was very young, very much inter
ested, and, being without defined duties or comraand,
could come and go as I saw fit ; and so, I fancy, it was
not so irksome to me as it must have been to those more
restrained. All during the month of July, the fact that the enemy
was mining in our front was discussed and accepted by
the troops. How soldiers get their inforraation is one of
the raysteries of the ser-vice, yet they are often in posses
sion of raore accurate knowledge than those high in au
thority. For sorae time the reports about the mine were
exceedingly vague. More than one Union picket had

362 THE END OF AN ERA
hinted at a purpose to " send you to Heaven soon," or
threatened that they were " going to blow you up next
week." For some time, no less than three salients were
discussed as the possible points. Our engineers had some
sort of information, for countermining was begun at aU
these salients ; but, for sorae unknown reason, it was
abandoned. Their information must, however, have been
raore or less definite concerning the EUiott salient, for,
while they abandoned countermining, they did erect a
gorge line, or retrenched cavalier, at this point, and planted
batteries of eight and ten inch Coehorn mortars bearing
upon the spot. The gorge line was a curved line of para
pet in rear of the salient, connecting with the main line
of our breastworks ; so that, if the salient should be blown
up, our troops could occupy the gorge line in rear, and
resist an assault at the breach. Placing the Coehorn mor
tars so as to command the salient showed that the explo
sion was apprehended. And these evidences of knowledge
made it all the raore surprising that the men and guns
in this salient were not removed back to the gorge line in
time to save them. Whatever doubts the engineers may
have felt, the privates knew where the works were being
mined. EUiott's raen told the fellows on the left of our
brigade aU about it long before the explosion. Our men
would go down there, and, lying on the ground with
EUiott's men, would listen to the work going on below,
and come back and tell aU about it.
About daybreak, July 30, the mine was exploded. We
were so accustoraed to extraordinary explosions that no
thing short of an earthquake would have occasioned sur
prise. At our quarters, the sound was not extraordinary,
although we were only about two miles distant ; and I have
frequently heard General Mahone, whose headquarters
were along the lines about the same distance from the

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 353
mine as our own, say the same thing. It was fully half
past six o'clock when a messenger from our own brigade
arrived announcing the explosion, the breach in the line
to the left of my father's brigade, and the very perilous
situation of our army.
This was the outcome of a long and patient series of
operations on the part of the Union forces. When Peters
burg was first attacked, our^ army had been driven from
certain positions on an outer or more extended line of
defenses. About one hundred yards in front of Elliott's
salient, the second division of Burnside's corps (Ninth)
occupied a heavy line of rifle-pits, from which we had
retired. Behind these rifle-pits, which originally faced to
the east, the ground dipped, so that operations at that
point were fairly well concealed. The troops located there
were the 48th Pennsylvania Regiraent, recruited in the
Schuylkill mining districts, and coraraanded by Lieuten
ant-Colonel Henry Pleasants, a mining engineer. He it
was who conceived the idea of sinking the mine.
While he secured official sanction of his plan, he
seems never to have had official support. General Meade
and his chief of engineers spoke of it contemptuously ;
and Pleasants, in his testimony before the Coraraittee on
the Conduct of the War, coraplained bitterly of lack of
assistance. Notwithstanding all obstacles, the mine was
complete by July 23. It consisted of a shaft 510 feet
long, with lateral gaUeries under our works 38 and 37
feet long respectively ; in these, 320 kegs of powder, con
taining 25 pounds each, — in all 8000 pounds, — were
placed, and preliminary to the explosion, 81 heavy guns
and mortars and over 80 light guns of the Union army
were brought to bear on the position to be mined and
attacked. General Grant was by this time fully aroused to the

354 THE END OF AN ERA
dignity of the assault, and, in order to divert General
Lee, made a demonstration in force on the north side
of the James. General Sheridan with the cavalry and
General Hancock with a corps of infantry were sent
across the Jaraes, necessitating the withdrawal by Gen
eral Lee from in front of Petersburg of all his forces,
except the divisions of Bushrod Johnson and Hoke, and
two brigades of Mahone's division. General Lee, in fact,
had left to defend Petersburg, on the morning of the
mine explosion, but 13,000 men. It is proper I should
state that, in the many accounts from which I compiled
this narrative, none is so terse, and none so fortified by
historic data, as that of Captain Gordon McCabe, of
Petersburg ; and, while I have not that paper before me,
I am following it so closely that I should be liable to the
accusation of plagiarism if I did not make this acknow
ledgment. Grant quietly recalled Hancock the night of July 29,
and had him in supporting distance of Burnside when
the mine was fired. The plan of attack was for Burn
side to assault ; Ord on his right and Warren on his left
were to close in and sustain him. The preparations were
elaborate. The assaulting column numbered 15,000 men,
and the supports brought the aggregate Union forces em
ployed up to 65,000 raen. Burnside's negro division was
at first considered for leading, but the final determina
tion was to let the white troops take the advance, and the
choice feU by lot to the division of Major-General Ledlie,
who has been so severely denounced by his own com
mander and comrades that I wiU not discuss his merits
or demerits. The columns were massed for the attack
overnight, and the fuse of the mine was lighted about
3.30 A. M.
The ragged remnant of the Confederate army stiU left

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 355
before Petersburg enjoyed unusual repose that night,
for the firing along the lines had almost ceased. A long
delay ensued. After waiting more than an hour for the
explosion, two Union soldiers, at the risk of their lives,
crawled into the gallery of the mine and found that the
fuse had failed ; they relit it and returned. Colonel
Pleasants and his friends stood watching with intense
solicitude the culmination of their five weeks' labors ;
fifteen thousand Union troops stood in hushed expect
ancy behind the Union parapets, under orders that the
moment after the explosion they should leap the breast
works and advance across ground upon which, for weeks,
certain death had awaited any man who trod it, and
mount into those lines whence their oft-tried foe had
so long hurled defiance. While this was the condition
of the Union troops, the Confederate infantrymen and
cannoneers at the doomed salient slept on, as the fuse
sparkled and sputtered inch by inch towards the four
tons of gunpowder which were to rend with the violence
of an earthquake the spot on which they were resting.
" There she goes ! " exclaimed one of the watchers.
The ground trembled for an instant ; an immense mass
of earth, cannon, timbers, human beings, and smoke shot
skyward, paused for an instant in mid-air, illumined by
the flash of the explosion ; and, bursting asunder, fell
back into and around the smoking pit. The dense cloud
of smoke drifted off, tinged by the first faint rays of sun
rise; a silence like that of death succeeded the tremen
dous report. Nearly three hundred Confederates were
buried in the debris of the crater ; their comrades on
either side adjacent to the fatal spot fled from a sight so
much resembling the day of judgment. To the south of
the crater, our lines were unmanned even as far as our
brigade, and a similar condition existed on its northern

356 THE END OF AN ERA
side ; at least three hundred yards of our lines were de
serted by their defenders, and left at the mercy of the
assaulting columns. Beyond that breach not a Confed
erate infantryman stood to dispute their passage into the
heart of Petersburg. A prompt advance in force, a
gallant dash, not into the crater, but around it and
three hundred yards beyond it, would have crowned the
great explosion with a victory worthy of its grandeur.
From the eminence where Blandf ord church and cemetery
stood, in rear of the mine. Grant's forces mighj, within
ten minutes after the mine was sprung, have looked
backward upon the Confederates, stunned, paralyzed,
and separated ; and, looking forward, they might have
seen the coveted city undefended and at their mercy.
The imbecility which marked the commencement of
the assault, the folly which crowned its conduct, cannot
be explained save by the incompetency of General Burn
side. What occurred led to a bitter controversy be
tween himself and General Meade ; and General Grant
is upon record as declaring that General Ledlie, who
comraanded the leading division, was unfit for the task
assigned to him. Certain it is that General Meade,
the coramander of the army ; ought not to have taken
personal charge of the advance ; and equaUy certain it
is that General Burnside, intrusted with the conduct
of a movement of such moment, ought to have super
intended and led it in person. A soldier like Picton,
or Ney, or Stonewall Jackson, or Phil Sheridan, would
never have frittered away an opportunity so glorious
by directing subordinates frora a distant position of
safety. One can picture to himself the way in which
any one of a hundred great military lieutenants would
have seen and availed hiraself of this rare chance for
immortal fame. The very silence of the Confederates

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 357
after the explosion was in itself thej loud-mouthed voice
of opportunity, calling in tones which military genius
would not have failed to recognize. One can almost see
the quick rush of the assaulting columns through the
uncleared smoke of the crater, as they would have come
under a real leader ; and can almost hear their cheering
as they mounted the abandoned trenches, paying no
attention to the pit of their own making, but pressing
on beyond it without pause until in full possession of the
position in our rear. The commanding generals knew
the importance of such a course. General Burnside had
explicit instructions to pursue it. If he had once shown
himself at the head of his command, whether it was
organized or disorganized, it might, could, and would
have followed him to his objective point, and could and
would have carried his advantage to its legitimate results.
Yet, in the whole history of war, no enterprise so auspi
ciously begun ever resulted in a conclusion more larae
and impotent.
The Union troops designated for the assault, instead
of drawing inspiration from the sight of the breach they
had effected, actuaUy appeared to recoil from the havoc.
For some time no demonstration followed the explosion ;
when they finally advanced, it was not with the eager
ness of grenadiers or guardsmen, but with rushes and
pauses of uncertainty ; and when they reached our lines,
instead of treating the opening as a mere passageway to
their objective point beyond, they halted, peeped, and
gaped into the pit, and then, with the stupidity of sheep,
followed their hell-wethers into the crater itaelf, where,
huddled together, all semblance of organization vanished,
and company, regimental, and brigade commanders lost
all power to recognize, much less control, their respective
troops. Meade, from his position a mile away, was de-

358 THE END OF AN ERA
manding of Burnside why he did not advance beyond the
crater to the Blandford cemetery. Burnside, safely in the
Union lines, and separated from his assaulting columns,
was replying that difficulties existed, — difficulties which
he could not specify, for the double reason that he did not
know what they were, and that they did not in fact exist.
If he, the well-known corps commander, had but shown
himself and placed himself at the head of his troops,
there was no obstacle in the way of that advance for
fully three hours after his troops were in f uU possession
of our works. True, he might have been kiUed ; the
chance was, however, remote under the circumstances,
but that was a legitimate contingency connected with the
business he had undertaken. Whether kiUed or not,
his presence would have put his column in motion and
accomplished the object, instead of leaving his command
to headless and huddled disaster. Many a soldier would
have deemed it a privilege to risk his life in averting
the slaughter of that day, and in converting a threatened
rout into a brilliant victory.
But, if Burnside was deficient on the aggressive, the
Confederate officer in comraand of the division defending
the position was a Roland for his Oliver.
Bushrod Johnson held the rank of major-general.
How he gained it, or why he retained it, — whether by
accident or favoritism, — is unimportant ; he had under
him as gallant troops as ever fought. Elliott's South
Carolinians, Grade's Alabamians, our own beloved bri
gade, were ready to do and die whenever called upon,
and to follow wherever dauntless leadership directed ; but
to their division commander they were alraost strangers.
He selected headquarters at a house in rear of the lines.
It was tucked under the hill by the roadside, just north of
the Blandford cemetery, and there he had remained, vege-

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 359
tating^ without any friendly intercourse with his command,
or comraunicating with it save through official channels.
Seldom, if ever, was the man seen in the trenches; he
was barely known by sight to his raen ; toward him they
felt no affection, of his prowess they had no evidence,
and in his ability they felt no confidence. So slight was
the dependence of his brigadiers upon him, so little their
habit of communication, so indifferent his own conduct,
that when General Lee, some hours after the mine had
been exploded, reached General Johnson's headquarters,
Johnson knew no details of the disaster, or of the dis
positions made to repair it, although it was his own
division that was involved, and the enemy over the hiU
was not four hundred yards distant. If the enemy
had pressed forward at any time within two hours after
the explosion, they would in all probability have found
General Bushrod Johnson in bed. When General Lee
arrived about eight o'clock, he found him actuaUy igno
rant of the peril.
But the merciful Gods of War, if they permit such
people as Burnside and Johnson to masquerade as mili
tary men, atone for it by furnishing others whose bril
liant deeds divert us from pity for incompetents.
General Elliott promptly disposed the portion of his
brigade left to him in the traverses commanding the
crater ; Colonel Goode, commanding our brigade, concen
trated on his left flank, and with the fragment of Elliott's
brigade, which was driven into ours by the explosion,
opened a brisk fire upon the assailants. From our ten-
inch and eight-inch mortars in the rear of the line, a
most accurate fire was opened upon the troops in the
breach ; and our batteries to north and south began
to pour a deadly storm of shell and canister upon their
crowded masses. The situation looked desperate for us,

360 THE END OF AN ERA
nevertheless, for it was aU our infantry could do to hold
their lines, and not a man could be spared to meet an
advance upon Blandford cemetery heights, which lay
before the Union troops. At this juncture, heroic John
Haskell, of South Carolina, came dashing up the plank
road with two light batteries, and from a position near the
cemetery began the most effective work of the day.
Exposed to the batteries and sharpshooters of the
enemy, he and his men gave little heed to danger. Has
keU, in his impetuous and ubiquitous gallantry, dashed
and flashed about : first here, next there, like Ariel on
the sinking ship. Now he darted into the covered way
to seek EUiott, and implore an infantry support for his
exposed guns; EUiott, responding to his appeal, was
severely wounded as he attempted with a brave handful of
his Carolinians to cover Haskell's position ; now Haskell
cheered Lampkin, who had already opened with his eight-
inch mortars ; now he hurried back to Planner, where he
had left hira, and found him under a fire so hot that in
mercy he resolved to retire aU his guns but six, and call
for volunteers to man them, but that was not the temper
of Lee's army : every gun detachment volunteered to
remain. Hurrying to the right again, he found but one
group of cowards in his whole command, and these he
replaced by Hampton Gibbs, and Captain Sam Pres
ton of our brigade, whose conspicuous bravery more than
atoned for the first defection ; both fell desperately
wounded, and were replaced by peerless Hampden Cham-
berlayne, who left the hospital to hurry to the fight, and
won promotion by the brilliancy of his behavior ; again,
like Ariel, Haskell, almost superhuman in the energy
of his defense, " flamed amazement " upon the foe, and
staggered him with " the fire and crack of sulphurous
roaring" until help came. To whomsoever else honor

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 361
may be due for that day's work, the name of Haskell
should never be dissociated from it, for he was a born
and a resourceful artilleryman, and knew no such thing
as fear.
Where were the Confederate comraanders during all
this time ? Bushrod Johnson was near by, but nobody
considered him ; Generals Lee and Beauregard had their
headquarters on the north side of the Appomattox. It
was fully six o'clock before General Lee heard the news,
from Colonel Paul, of Beauregard's staff ! Colonel Paul
lived in Petersburg, and, being at home that night and
learning of the disaster, gaUoped out and informed Gen
eral Lee as he was sitting down to his breakfast. Before
Lee even knew of the occurrence. General Meade had had
time to converse with prisoners captured at the crater,
and to advise Burnside that Blandford cemetery was
unprotected ; that none of our troops had returned from
the James ; that his chance was now ; and to implore him
to raove forward at all hazards, lose no time in raaking
forraations, and rush for the crest.
General Lee immediately sent Colonel Venable, of his
staff, direct to Mahone, with instructions to come with
two brigades of his division to Blandford cemetery to
support the artillery. The urgency was so great that he
did not transmit the order through General Hill, the
corps commander. Mounting his horse. General Lee
proceeded to Bushrod Johnson's headquarters, which he
reached about seven A. M., but the information obtained
from him was valueless : he knew nothing of the extent
of the disaster, and had not even been to the front, — he
probably learned more from General Lee than he knew
himself. Then General Lee was joined by General Hill,
and they passed into the lines at a traverse near the
Rives salient, where Colonel Venable found them sitting.

362 THE END OF AN ERA
Meanwhile, Venable had communicated with Mahone,
and Mahone, always cunning, had retired his two brigades
frora the lines so quietly that General Warren, opposite to
him, reported that no troops had been withdrawn from his
front. The Virginia and Georgia brigades of Mahone's
division were the troops selected. The message to Ma
hone was to send them, but he insisted that he should go
with them. They passed rapidly by way of a ravine from
Mahone's position on the lines covering the Jerusalem
plank road to a point in rear of the crater. The Vir
ginia brigade, commanded by Weisiger, led. It was now
eight o'clock. One cannot but think of what might have
happened during all this time, if Burnside had acted upon
Meade's urgent appeals.
• The appearance of this infantry was balm and solace
to the artillery blazing away upon the crest just above
them. For hours they had been fighting there, almost
decimated by the artillery concentrated upon them, and
the distant firing of sharpshooters. They could not have
withstood even a feeble assault of infantry, and had ex
pected it during every minute they had been engaged : the
coming of Mahone was their deliverance. With but an
instant's pause in the ravine to strip for battle, Mahone's
division, headed by their gallant little general, clambered
up the slope, crossed the Jerusalem road, and passed in
single file at double-quick into a covered way. There
was no cheering, and no gaudy flaunting of uniforms or
standards ; with them, war's work had becorae too grim
and too real for all that. In weather-worn and ragged
clothes, with hats whose briras could shade their eyes for
deadly aim, with bodies hardened down by march and
exposure to race-horse lines, they came, not with the
look or feelings of mercenaries, but like anxious, earnest
men whose souls were in their work, who knew what the

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 363
crisis was, and who were anxious to perform the task
which that crisis demanded. Agile as cats, they sprang
across the road and entered the covered way ; as they
skipped by, many a feUow kissed his hand to the artil
lerymen to right and left, or strained on tiptoe to catch
sight of the ground in front, before entering the sheltered
passage. For the first time during the day, a line of
infantry was between our guns and the enemy ; and the
boys at the guns, knowing what reliance could be placed
upon Mahone's veterans, took new heart and new cour
age, and pounded away with redoubled energy.
Venable parted with Mahone at the mouth of the cov
ered way, and, seeking General Lee, informed him that
Mahone was up, and proposed to lead his two brigades
in person. The general expressed his gratification, and
gave a sigh of relief. Soon leaving the Rives salient.
General Lee rode to the point in the covered way at
which Mahone had entered, and, dismounting, proceeded
on foot to a house at Lampkin's mortar battery, about
two hundred and fifty yards frora the crater. The house
was riddled by shot and shell ; from a window in its base
ment Generals Lee and Beauregard observed the fight.
The ground from the crater sloped to the north and west
into a little ra-vine, into which the covered way, by which
Mahone had entered, debouched ; in this hoUow Mahone
formed his troops for battle, the Virginia brigade on the
left. Springing quickly from the covered way, the eight hun
dred Virginians lay flat upon the ground. The Geor
gians were forming on their right. Before the Georgians
could come into position, the enemy, occupying our gorge
line, succeeded in forming an attacking column, and
advanced to the assault. Weisiger, commanding the Vir
ginians, was a grim, determined man. Our boys were

364 THE END OF AN ERA
lying down within one hundred and sixty yards of the
works, and saw within them a vast throng of Union troops,
and counted eleven Union flags. A gallant Union officer,
seizing a stand of Union colors, leaped upon their breast
works and called upon his men to charge. Fully realizing
the paucity of his own numbers, and the danger of being
overwhelmed by the mass of the enemy if they poured
down upon him, Weisiger determined to anticipate the
threatened movement by charging. Cautioning his men
to reserve their fire, he ordered them forward. Those
who saw this assault pronounce it to have been, in many
respects, the most remarkable which they ever witnessed.
At the command " Forward ! " the men sprang to their
feet ; advanced at a run in perfect alignment ; absolutely
refrained from firing until within a few feet of the
eneray ; then, with their guns almost upon the bodies of
their foes, delivered a deadly fire, and, rushing upon
them with bayonets and clubbed muskets, drove them
pell-mell back into the intrenchments which they had
just left.
General Lee, when advised of this brilliant assault,
remarked, " That must have been Mahone's old bri
gade." When news came confirming it, he again said,
" I thought so."
My heart beat high when all the army rang with
the praises of " Mahone's old brigade." Part of them
were " our boys " from Norfolk, — many of them little
older than myself ; companions, playmates, friends. At
tbe outbreak of the war, they called them "tender-feet"
and " dandies." Their uniforms were very sraart, and
their feet were very tender. Frora one of their earher
marches they came back limping, with their feet bleeding
and their shoes upon their bayonets; the boys named
them in derision the " Bloody Sixth." But their hearts

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 365
were true, and soon their feet grew tough enough. They
were the sons of the best of the old Tidewater Virginians
of English descent, and, by the tirae second Manassas
and Crampton's Gap were fought, the " Bloody Sixth,"
of " Mahone's old brigade," had earned its title by blood
from the heart as weU as from the feet. To-day it
crowned its record, for old F Company of Norfolk, now
known as K Company, Sixth Virginia Regiment, a com
pany modeled in happier days after the aristocratic com
pany of the New York Seventh, took sixteen men into
action and lost every man but one, — eight killed outright
and seven wounded.
In the position gained by Mahone's old brigade, nothing
intervened between them and the enemy but the pile
of breastworks, — they on the outside, the enemy within
the crater and gorge line. The fighting by which they
established themselves was desperate and hand-to-hand.
Superb Haskell once more came to their rescue : he
moved up his little Eprouvette mortars almost to our
lines, and, cutting down his charge of powder to an
ounce and a half, so that his shell scarcely mounted fifty
feet, threw a continuous hail of small shell into the pit,
over the heads of our men. Our fellows seized the
muskets abandoned by the retreating enemy, and threw
them like pitchforks into the huddled troops over the
ramparts. Screams, groans, and explosions throwing up
human limbs raade it a scene of awful carnage. Yet the
artillery of the enemy searched every spot, and they still
had a formidable force of fighting men.
The Georgia brigade, charging a little after Weisi-
ger's, was decimated and repulsed. Our own brigade,
which was engaged from first to last and never yielded a
foot of ground, lost heavily, and Mahone's brigade, the
" immortals " of that day, was almost annihilated. About

366 THE END OF AN ERA
one o'clock, the Alabaraa brigade of Mahone's division,
under Saunders, arrived upon the scene, formed and
charged, and the white flag went up from the crater.
Out of it into our lines filed as prisoners eleven hundred
and one Union troops, including two brigade command
ers, and v/e captured twenty-one standards and several
thousand of small arms. Over a thousand of the en
emy's dead were in and about the breach, and his losses
exceeded five thousand effective troops, while our lines
were reestablished just where they were when the battle
began. The crater fight was not only one of the bloodiest, hut
one of the most brutal of the war. It was the first time
Lee's array had encountered negroes, and their presence
excited in the troops indignant malice such as had char
acterized no former conflict. To the credit of the blacks
be it said that they advanced in better order and pushed
forward farther than the whites, on that day so unfortu
nate for the Union cause ; but when our men, in frenzy,
rushed upon and drove the cold steel into them, they did
not show the stubborn power of endurance for which tbe
Anglo-Saxon is jireeminent, nor do I believe they ever
-will on any field. On the other hand, our men, inflamed
to relentless vengeance by their presence, disregarded the
rules of warfare which restrained thera in battle with
their own race, and brained and butchered the blacks
until the slaughter was sickening.
At the first report of the battle, my father promptly
repaired to the lines. His interest in and affection for
his brigade was like that of a father for his children;
although not in actual command, the duties of his tem
porary position were such that he might with propriety
go forth and reassure his own troops by his presence.
Moving out rapidly to the opening of the covered way

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 367
leading to our brigade, we left our horses and hurried for
ward to the lines. We came upon the outer works about
midway of the brigade, and found the troops manning
them at intervals of f uUy ten feet apart, for the brigade
was massed upon the left in the traverses and covered
ways, firing- steadily and rapidly upon the crater. A tre
mendous artillery fire from both sides raked the vicinity
of the crater, and the danger to our troops from several
of our light batteries to the north was almost as great
as that from the Union guns. Every shot which missed
the crater came bounding down our lines. Exchanging a
few words with the fearless Goode, who had his troops
well in hand, ray father at once proceeded to report the
condition of affairs to General liCe, whom we had seen as
we entered the works, and to order up reinforcements
from the teamsters and cooks at our wagon camp.
One of the first wounded men we saw was my cousin,
" Old Suggs," whose eternal talk about the " Adventures
of Simon Suggs " had named the faraily at the Virginia
Military Institute. Now he was sergeant-raajor of our
left regiraent, and a glancing ball had struck him on
an eye tooth and knocked It out. I presume he had his
mouth open, possibly talking about Simon Suggs. His
wound proved Insignlfipant, but when we met him, he was
as bloody as a butcher's cleaver.
Hurrying back through the covered way, we overtook
two stretcher-bearers with what seeraed to be the dead
body of an officer.
"Who is It ? " exclairaed my father.
" Captain Preston, of the 34th," was the reply.
Removing the handkerchief across his face, we saw that
a minie ball had pierced him over the eye. " Poor fel
low," almost sobbed my father, as he bent over him,
" gallant and true to the last." For In the lines we had

368 THE END OF AN ERA
heard how a craven in one of our salients near the Baxter
road had deserted his guns, and Preston had called for
volunteers, manned them, and worked them until he was
thus shot down. He was a handsome fellow as he lay
there, apparently dead : thank Heaven he was not dead,
but lived to hear the army resounding with praise of his
courage. The minie which pierced him was In sight, and
the surgeons extracted It. He recovered, and for years
after peace returned was clerk of a court in Lynchburg,
where one might see him writing and the deep scar over
his eye, his handsomest dimple, throbbing with his
thoughts as he wrote them down.
While we were back In the town, hurrying every avail
able teamster and clerk and cook and man of any kind
to the front, the famous charge of Mahone took place, and
others were reaping the glory of that day. By the time
our work was done, the Alabamians arrived, the surren
der occurred, the firing slacked, and the prisoners came
running into our lines from the ravine. It was a motley
gathering, composed of troops, white and black, from
every comraand and every branch of service In Burnside's
corps. There they were, from the refined and distin
guished-looking General Bartlett, who bore his misfortune
like the Christian gentleraan he was, down to the wildest-
looking darkey, who expected every moment that he
would be massacred.
The prisoners were corralled at Poplar Lawn, In Peters
burg. It was soon discovered that nearly all the negroes
were from eastern Virginia, many of them owned by the
men they were fighting. A notice was posted permitting
owners to reclaim their property, and the negroes were
delighted at the prospect of being treated as slaves, in
stead of being put to death or sent to a Confederate mili
tary prison. Some of the reclamations made were dra-

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 369
matic, some pathetic, and sorae highly amusing. This last
expression seems out of place in connection with this
awful tragedy, but it is true, nevertheless. The negroes
had witnessed such fierce butchery of their companions up
to the time they had raised the white flag, that they were
frantic with fear, and saw no hope of escape. As they
came running into our lines through the dangers of the
firing from their own friends, they landed among our
men, faUIng on their knees, their eyes rolling In terror,
exclaiming, " Fur God sake, Marster, doan' kill me. Spar'
me, Marster, and I'll wuk fur you as long as I lib."
" Marster " never fell from their poor lips so glibly or
so often in all their lives ; and even after they had been
with us long enough to know It was not our purpose to
put them to death, when one of them discovered his
real " Marster," he greeted him as if he beheld an angel
of deliverance. According to the story of every mother's
son of them, he was not a volunteer, but had been forced
into the Union service against his will. Of course we
knew just how much of these tales to believe ; but it is
safe to say that every raaster who reclaimed a slave from
the Federal prisoners captured at the crater felt reason
ably certain his man would never again volunteer upon
either side in any war.
It seems fitting to close this ghastly narrative with one
ludicrous Incident, which shows that no situation is so
bloody or so tragic that it has not some episode to relieve
its horrors. In our brigade was a young fellow who,
while fighting gallantly at the traverse near the crater, re
ceived a buUet In the forearm. His wound was dressed,
and he was given a ten days' furlough. He was from
eastern Virginia, and his home was in the Union lines.
He had no friends, no money, and nowhere to go. In
this condition, he was wandering about the streets of

370 THE END OF AN ERA
Petersburg the day after the crater fight, when his eye
fell upon the notice to owners that they might reclaim
their slaves from the prisoners. Thinking that possibly
he might find one of his father's slaves among them, he
wandered down to Poplar Lawn. In vain he sought for
a familiar face, and was turning away, when an attractive,
smiling young darkey caught his eye and said, " Boss, fur
God sake, claim me fur yo' nigger."
" What do you mean, you rascal ? I never saw you
before," was the reply.
" I knows it, sah," said the darkey ; " but ef I says I
belongs to you, who gwine to dispute it, if you don't ? "
" If I had you, I 'd sell you to-morrow," was the quick
reply of the young fellow, whose eye brightened with a
happy thought.
" I doan' keer ef you does sell me, sah," said the darkey.
" Dat 's a heap better dan goin' to a Conf ederick prison
pen." " Done ! " said the soldier ; " when I come back here,
you speak to me and call me ' Mars' Ben,' and I '11 attend
to the rest."
So out he went, and soon came back ; and, as he went
searching for his slaves, accompanied by an officer in
charge, the darkey greeted him with " How you do, Mars'
Ben ? " Then Ben swore at him, and denounced him for
his Ingratitude and desire to kill his master and benefac
tor, and they carried it off so weU that no one suspected
the ruse, and the darkey was delivered to " Mars' Ben "
as his owner, and " Mars' Ben " took him to Richmond
and sold him for 15000 in Confederate money. " Mars'
Ben " had a great furlough with that 15000. At the end
of ten days, he returned to duty with a new suit of clothes
and fed like a fighting-cock, but without a doUar In his
pocket. The darkey went to some plantation and never

THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER 371
saw a prison pen, and a year afterwards was a free citizen
of the United States, and probably wound up his career in
some scalawag legislature, or even as a member of Con
gress, — who knows ? Such things were possible In those
days. A short while ago, I met Ben. He is gray-headed now.
I asked him where he was going. He said to a protracted
meeting. He told me he had become religious, and said
he wished I would reform.
" Is it an experience meeting, Ben ? " said I.
" Yes," said he.
" Have you ever told them about that darkey you sold
after the crater fight ? " said I.
" Now, look here, old fellow," said he, growing confi
dential, and with a genuine touch of pitiful pleading in
his voice, " I wish you would not give me away about that
thing. I have prayed for forgiveness for that many a
night. But I don't believe the Lord wants me to expose
myself before my neighbors, and I hope you will not." I
agreed to spare him, and so I will ; but, if necessity
should demand It, I can put my hand upon him now,
within eight hours' ride from the spot on which I write.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE CONFEDERATE EESEEVES
In September, 1864, the commission as drill-master,
with rank and pay of second lieutenant, arrived, accompa
nied by orders to report for duty October 1 to Colonel
Robert Preston, commanding a newly organized regiment
of reserve forces at Dublin Depot, in southwestern Vir
ginia. The red seal and signature of the Secretary of
War, and the idea of being addressed as lieutenant, made
their distinct impressions, but did not overcome the
desire to reraain with the army at the front.
Vain, however, were all pleadings ; and even Mahone,
when appealed to to intercede for ray services, seemed
indifferent, and dwelt upon the honor to be gained by
faithful work in preparing raw troops for actual service,
and the duty of deferring to the judgment and wishes of a
parent. It was easy to see that he and " the old general "
had been talking together since that first meeting.
When, September 30, I boarded a west-bound train at
Petersburg to join my command, the new, bright bar
upon my collar and gilt scrolls upon my sleeves gave
little satisfaction. I felt as if I had been treated like a
baby, tucked away In a place of safety, and was consent
ing to turn my back upon the enemy just when every man
was most needed in Lee's army. And was I not a man ?
Of course I was. I was nearly eighteen I When my
father parted with me, after much good advice and an
affectionate farewell, I know It was with the solacing

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 373
reflection that I, at least, was out of harm's way. If such
were his feelings and his purpose, great must have been
his astonishment on opening his first letter from me.
When the train reached Dublin Depot next morning, I
Inquired of a soldier standing on the platform for Colonel
Preston's headquarters. " He was camped on yonder
hlU," said the person addressed ; " but him and his regi
ment left here last night for Saltville. The Yankees Is
comin' over the mountain from Kentucky to the salt
works." Trains did not move, in those times, upon precise sched
ules. Ours had not yet puUed out of the depot. It was
In a leisurely way taking on wood and water, and receiv
ing or discharging army stores. Without another word,
I resumed ray place in the car, resolved to follow and
join the regiment. On and on we went, until we came
to Glade Spring Junction, near Abingdon and the Ten
nessee line. There, to my great delight, I found Colonel
Preston, with his regiment of nondescripts, waiting for
an Improvised train of flat cars, which was to bear them
to Saltville, eight or ten miles distant. Swinging off the
car almost before It stopped, I hurried up to the colonel.
I told him who I was. He gave me a merry and charac
teristic greeting.
From the number of Prestons so far mentioned, one
might think this a history of the Preston family. It Is,
In truth, a large family, but, so far as I know, none of
those referred to were kin to, or even connected with, each
other. This dear old man, known to everybody in the
army and in his section of the State as " Colonel Bob,"
was one of the most lovable and unique characters it was
ever my good fortune to be thrown with. He was short,
thick-set, and had an immense snow-white beard, extend
ing nearly to his sword-belt. He often buttoned it into

374 THE END OF AN ERA
and beneath his coat or waistcoat. When, as on this
occasion. It was unconfined, his appearance, figure, beard,
merry twinkling eye, and ruddy face instantly suggested
Santa Clans.
At the outbreak of the war, he comraanded a regiment
in the Manassas campaign; brave as a lion, he was utterly
ignorant of military tactics ; and it was told of him that
on one occasion, when his regiment was attacked in flank
while marching in column of companies, he, after vainly
endeavoring to think of the command by which to wheel
by companies into line and charge the eneray, burst into
an explosion of oaths and said, " Twenty-eighth ! swing
around in companies, like gates, and sick 'em ! " On an
other occasion, reaching a fence and not knowing how
to defile his troops through an opening, he gave the fol
lowing startling order, " Battalion ! Oh, battalion ! bust
up ! climb fence, and line up again on t' other side ! "
These were but samples of the many tales concerning
him as a tactician; notwithstanding these slight defects.
Colonel Bob was honored, respected, and counted one of
the gamest fighters in the army ; and nothing but the
infirmities of age had reconciled his beloved " 28th " to
parting with him.
When the growing necessities of the war forced upon
the authorities at Richraond the forraatlon of these re
serve regiments, composed of old men and little boys.
Colonel Bob was araong the first appealed to for aid in
the undertaking, for no man was more beloved or exer
cised a stronger influence In his section.
The day I joined him, he had a veritable Falstaffian
army: his regiment of eight companies presented every
stage of manhood, frora Immature boyhood to decrepit old
age. One of his companies drawn up in line looked as
irregular as a pile of barrel-hoops. There was no pre-

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 375
tense of uniform ; they wore everything, from straw hats
to coon-skin caps. A vision of Colonel Bob's regiment
must have presented itself to the mind of General Grant
when he inforraed the country that the Confederacy was,
like Micawber, " robbing the cradle and the grave."
One thing uniform they had, — every man had a Bel
gian rifle, and a cartridge-box filled with pretty fair am
munition. To my surprise, they handled these weapons
effectively and most courageously the following day.
Nobody realized the ludicrous appearance of his sol
diers, or enjoyed it more thoroughly, than did Colonel
Bob. He would have had a laugh at his own funeral,
if opportunity had occurred. " Look at that ! " said he,
stroking his beard and chuckling a comfortable, inside-
shaking laugh; "look at that! Your cadets couldn't
beat it." He was pointing to his comraand, scrarabling
peU-mell, helter-skelter, upon the dirty flats which now
had been backed up. Two strapping young fellows were
tugging at an old one, who looked as if he would come
to pieces, pulling him up on the car, while a third was
pushing him from behind.
"Henry!" shouted Colonel Bob, "you must ride Robin
and lead Bob down to the salt-works. Take your time,
Henry ; you '11 get there as soon as we do, I think. I
must stay with my ragamuffins, Henry ; do you under
stand?" Henry was his smiling, handsome, and deferential mu
latto body-servant, who looked after his comfort as if the
colonel were a baby. Bob was his strong, blood-bay,
half-bred charger. The way he uttered the word Henry,
and the tone in which he spoke of Bob, showed how he
loved them, and how dependent he was upon them. Both
Henry and Bob were very proud of their master. Henry
bowed and smiled, assured him all would be as he wished.

376 THE END OF AN ERA
and, before departing, whispered to him that he had placed
some food for him in the locker of the caboose car which
we were to occupy.
"Did you put my bottle of brandy there, Henry?"
said the colonel.
" Yes, sir," said Henry, grinning and looking around
suspiciously. "WeU, don't do it," said the old man, raising his
voice ; "these   soldiers are honest enough
about other things, but the last  one of them will
steal whiskey, Henry, and you ought to know that by this
tirae. Fetch It right here and put it in my haversack ;
even then it won't be safe." The old fellow chuckled
and Henry grinned as he tucked the flask snugly away
In the corner of his bag. He was not a hard drinker, or
at all dissipated, but was at his age somewhat dependent
upon a regular stimulant.
" Boy," said he, turning to me, for by this time he had
begun to be f arailiar, — " boy, I hope you 're not a little
drunkard ; It 's the meanest, lowest, dirtiest passion In
the world. When a man gets to loving whiskey, he '11
steal it from his best friend." Then, lowering his voice,
he told me it was not the soldiers he feared, but one of
his officers, who never left him a drop whenever he could
lay hands upon his " poor little flask."
By this time our troops were mounted on the train,
and, with a snort and a jerk and a bump and a thousand
thumps, we began the trip to Saltville. After a most
uncomfortable ride, we reached the place. Darkness was
upon us. Like other localities where salt is found, it was
a gaUed, cheerless spot, without verdure in the vicinity of
the wells and troughs and boilers. The adjacent country
was, however, pretty enough, and we soon found a camp
in a neighboring wood. The hills about Saltville were

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 377
almost as regular as hemispheres ; some were prettily
wooded and others were pasture lands to their summits.
A mile below the town flowed the Holston River, which
on our side had high, bluffy banks. The only crossing was
at a ford, which was very defensible. The Union general,
Burbridge, with a force organized in eastern Kentucky,
was advancing to destroy, these salt-works, which were
important to the Confederacy. We were not weU in
formed concerning the strength of the expedition, the
direction of his advance, or the troops opposing him.
The orders received by Colonel Preston had simply
directed him to report with the regiraent at Saltville as
quickly as possible. Now we were to ascertain the situ
ation. By the time we had located our camp, Henry arrived
with the horses. Our headquarters were established
under a wide-spreading sugar -maple, where he proceeded
to buUd a roaring fire, and spread our blankets upon
the first incline of a hill. After unbuckHng his sword
and standing it against a tree, the colonel, seated upon
a camp-stool, produced a comb, with which he caressed
his long beard, and proceeded to swear, in livid and
picturesque fluency, about everybody and everything he
knew, without any IU temper or malice whatsoever.
Henry busied himself brewing a pot of tea and prepar
ing a really dainty meal. He always had a mysterious
store of good things supplied by " Ole Missis," who
warned hira to hide them from " Ole Marster " until
used, because she knew he would surely give thera away
to some poor soldier, if they came Into his possession.
Whenever provisions ran low, Henry disappeared for a
day or two, and when he returned he came " bearing
sheaves." The colonel's home In Montgomery County
was not so far away that It was out of striking distance

378 THE END OF AN ERA
of the faithful slave, and there he found " Ole Missis,"
one of God's noblest and best creatures, praying for
" Ole Marster " and preparing comforts for him. Mrs.
Preston was known far and wide as the most devout
woman in aU the countryside. She often wept at the
unregenerate profanity of her husband, whose only fault
was that inveterate habit. •
Once I asked Henry if the colonel swore at home.
" Yes, sir, he do ! " said Henry emphaticaUy. " Ole
Marster wiU cuss anywhar ; nothin' kain't stop him.
But, Lord, lieutenant, he doan' mean nothin' by It. Out
side of cussin' he 's des as good and des as 'liglous as
Ole Missis ; and bofe of 'era gwine to be sa-ved, as sho'
as you born, fur Ole Missis prays enough to wipe out Ole
Marster's swearin', an' neither doan' do no harm in de
world, and I know Gord ain't gwine to separate no such
pa'r of people ez dey is, in Heaven."
We sat in the cheery light of our camp-fire and re
freshed ourselves with an exceUent cup of tea. The
autumn air was nipping, and the newly risen moon strug
gled through the mists which rose from the valley around
the salt-wells.
" How are the horses feeling, Henry ? " inquired the
colonel. " Fuss rate, sir. We tuk it easy comin' down, and
they Is fresh as kittens."
"Can you ride, young 'un?" said the colonel, turning
to rae, as he dropped a coa,l from his hand into his long
pipe and puffed away contentedly. Assured that I could,
he directed Henry to saddle Bob and Robin, and said, " I
want to ride out somewhere and find out something. I
don't know what we came here for, or who is coming, or
who is going to do the fighting."
We rode out together to the depot. Ascertaining there

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 379
that General Jackson, of Tennessee, called " Mudwall,"
was the commanding- officer, we repaired to his headquar
ters. Frora him we soon ascertained what troops were on
hand, and the location of the enemy. During the day.
General Jackson's forces north of the Holston had been
skirmishing with Burbridge' s advance, and retiring before
him. To-night, Burbridge was camped a short distance
across the river, and our picket lines were only about
three miles from town. Our main body of cavalry was
camped near the ford, and there it was proposed to give
the enemy battle on the morrow.
Old " Mudwall " was a common-looking man, with a
drawl in his voice, and appeared to be taking things very
easy. StiU, he showed courage and intelligence In his dis
positions. He told us he was expecting to be reinforced
by Robertson's cavalry, which was coming up from east
Tennessee. He hoped they would arrive before morning,
but Intended to fight whether they reached him in time
or not.
" Kernel," said he, " my men tell me the Yanks have
got a lot of nigger soldiers along. Do you think your
reserves will fight niggers ? "
" Fight 'em? " said the old colonel, bristling up; " by
 , sir, they'll eat ^ em up! No! not eat 'em up I
That 's too rauch ! By  , sir, we 'U cut 'em up ! "
General Jackson explained the plan of battle to Colonel
Preston; showed him how his line of battle would be
forraed upon the river, above and below the ford ; ex
plained what troops he proposed to place in front ; and
then pointed out to us a little valley on the left of, and at
right angles to, the road to the ford. In that valley we
were to take our position in reserve as soon as the eneray
appeared and firing began. It was but a short distance
from our camp. As we rode homeward, the colonel vis-

380 THE END OF AN ERA
ited the ground we were to occupy. It was now bright
moonlight. After going a short distance down the de
pression he said, " This place is as snug and safe as a
dovecote. We can sleep here to-raorrow until we are
ordered in."
He was jolly at the prospect of a fight. I told him
what a good joke on my father I considered it that, send
ing me down here to get me out of harm's way, I had
come straight to a battle. He and my father were old
and devoted friends. When he heard that, instead of
joining In my laughter, he grew silent, and at last, with
an effort at badinage, he said, " I don't care a  whether
you get shot or not, but, hoy, I would not be compeUed to
tell the general about It, if you are hurt, for all the wealth,
of the Indies." The idea seemed to prey upon him. In
the few short hours we had been together, he had evidently
begun to look upon me as his pet. He had few congenial
companions among his rough command, and he preferred
always the society of young people. When we reached
camp, he stood warming hiraself by the fire, musing, as he
held out his hands to the glare.
" Fetch my woolen nightcap, Henry," said he, at last ;
and, as he fitted It over his white locks, he gave a sigh,
saying, " what the devil did they send you here for any
how ? There 's nothing for you to do." Changing his
mood as he turned towards his pallet, his face broke into
a broad grin, and he exclaimed, " Oh, I know ! They
sent you to keep my back warm. I told Kemper I had
the rheumatics, and he sent you to snuggle up to me o'
nights. Come on to bed."
So, doing as I was bid, I crawled up close to Colonel
Bob, and, for many and many a night thereafter, that was
the way we always fell asleep together. God bless him !
I know he is in heaven. A heart more tender, a soul

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 381
more generous, a courage more dauntless, no man ever
possessed ; and in battle, in bivouac, or under his own
roof-tree, he was the sweetest old man that ever granted
to a young one the privilege of his instruction and confi
dence, — barring one fault, that he "swore like our army
in Flanders."
Up betimes In the morning, we found the road to the
ford filled with cavalrymen. Sorae had fallen back before
the advance of the enemy ; some had arrived from Abing
don during the night. All were dismounting to fight on
foot. Horse details were leading the beasts back to posi
tions of safety.
We moved our command out promptly, and defiled to
our assigned position on the left. The hill in our front,
on which our advance line was posted, concealed us com
pletely from the enemy. Behind us, another hill of unus
ual height, cleared on Its summit, gave a battery planted
there the range of the ford and of the ground beyond.
Our front lines had not completed their formations on
the river bluffs when we heard first a volley, and after
wards a dropping fire of musketry. Our pickets beyond
the river were engaged, and falling back before the ad
vancing enemy. Climbing the hill behind us, the view
was exceUent.
Soon our videttes were all safely across the ford and
within our lines, and the next move in the game was to be
made by the enemy. Out he came in due time, In battle
array, — infantry, cavalry, and artillery, — showing him
self along the edge of the woods which crowned the slopes
of pasture land beyond the ford.
" Bang ! " went the guns of the battery on the hlU be
hind us, and a flock of little six-pound shells flew singing
over our heads towards some cavalry debouching from the
woods a mile away. The artillery of the enemy promptly

382 THE END OF AN ERA
took position and delivered a return fire, but was unable
to secure an elevation sufficient to reach our battery.
Out of sight, fully protected, our regiment lay there
between those dueling batteries. It was very noisy, for
the shells of the enemy exploded in the woods on the hlU-
slde in our rear. Curious to know how our raw recruits
would behave under fire, I returned to where they were,
and was much gratified at the spirit of the men, especially
the youngsters. It was with difficulty that the colonel
kept thera from scrambling up to the top of the hill In our
front to watch the fight. The men were conducting them
selves like veterans. Many of the boys were sighting
their guns, and sho-wing how they would " shoot a nigger,"
if they had a chance.
"Where are your field officers, colonel ?" said I, ob
serving that he was the only one upon the ground. " The
lieutenant-colonel is on furlough, and the major cut his
foot with an axe last week, and Is In the hospital at
Dublin," said he, apparently unconscious that their ab
sence raade any difference, or should be supplied. " Say,
young 'un, you 'U have to give orders to the left side.
I '11 attend to the right." By the left side he raeant the
left flank of the regiraent. He proposed that he should
act as colonel and lieutenant-colonel, and was uncon
sciously promoting me to be major.
" But, colonel," I protested, " wIU not your senior cap
tains take offense that you do not assign thera to the posi
tions to which their rank entitles them ? "
" Shut up ! " said he fiercely ; " I 'm running this regi
raent. They don't know, and don't care a 
about that ! I know what I want. If you put such
notions In their heads, there '11 be no end of trouble here.
You go and do what I tell you ! Do you hear ? " So off
I went, and perched myself opposite the left battalion. I

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 383
did not know a man in the regiment, or half a dozen offi
cers. It would not have surprised rae to hear thera tell
me to go to the devil when I undertook to give thera com
mands. It seems, however, that they considered me as a
member of the colonel's staff, and nobody raised any ques
tion of precedence.
The battle of Saltville was a very pretty affair. The
enemy advanced with great spirit to the attack, but our
troops on our first line had little difficulty in repulsing
him. Only once were we brought under fire. Near mid
day, some colored troops of the enemy found a rather open
place on the left of our line, near where the streamlet,
coursing through the depression we occupied, entered the
river, at a point where It was shallow and rocky. They
pushed up dangerously near to this possible crossing,
and their buUets began to search our vaUey. The officer
commanding the line in our front ran down to where we
were asking for reinforcements. Colonel Bob, without a
moment's hesitation, raoved our left battalion down the
valley and up the hiU.
There the raen laid down on the bluffs, and were hotly
engaged for fifteen minutes, driving the enemy back with
a loss of but one or two of our men. Then we were
ordered to withdraw and resume our place In reserve, and
took no further part in the action.
The Confederate losses were quite heavy, especially
upon the hill In our immediate front. There Colonel
Trimble, in command, was killed In sight of, and but a
hundred yards In front of, our men. His death was re
markable. He was standing still, directing the firing of
his troops. Of a sudden he sprang high in the air, with
arms and legs extended at full length. He leaped at least
five feet, and fell to the ground collapsed and stone-dead.
We afterwards learned that he was shot through the heart.

384 THE END OF AN ERA
and were told that this spasmodic action is not at aU
unusual in such instances.
Our forces captured about two hundred prisoners,
mostly wounded. By three o'clock, Burbridge was In f uU
retreat, pursued by our cavalry. All danger being past,
we were directed the next day to repair to W3rthevIUe
and go into camp. While our reserve regiment had not
been seriously engaged, another regiment of reserves,
commanded by Colonel Tom Preston, was in the front
line, acquired a great reputation for its gallantry in the
action, and sustained severe losses.
" Not much of a fight for us," said Colonel Bob con
temptuously, that night. He seemed graveled at the better
luck of his cousin Tom. His impatience to have a hand
in the sport had given me some very unpleasant moments.
All during the day he would beckon to me to leave my
post as major, and, converting me into a courier for a
while, he would send me to the general with requests for
leave to " move up." The general was on the other side
of the road leading to the ford. The bullets were singing
up that road like bumble-bees, and every time I crossed it,
my heart was in my mouth. My sudden transitions from
major to courier and back again were most amusing.
" Well, the Yankees did n't kill papa's little bouncing
boy after all," said he contentedly, as we hugged up to
gether under the blankets that night. " I 'ra glad of It,
for you 're warm as a toast, and my back Is better
already." I knew how much stronger his feeling was
than he expressed It.
At WythevIUe, the regiment was ordered to drill, and
an additional drill-master arrived. We two toiled away
at our hopeless task of raaking men sixty years old stand
straight and keep step with sixteen-year-old boys. One
day I suggested to Colonel Bob that, if he would let me

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 385
make up a company of boys by selections from several
companies, I would give him a really efficient company.
He liked the idea, and before long we had a real slashing
corapany of soldiers, worthy of any regiment.
About November 1, we were ordered to move to Chris-
tlansburg, and march thence into Floyd County, deserter-
hunting. The mountainous regions of southwest Vir
ginia, western North Carolina, and east Tennessee were
the places of rendezvous for runaway Confederate sol
diers. So numerous and so bold had they become in
Floyd County, Virginia, that they not only defied arrest,
but often formed bands, seized Confederate supplies, and
threatened the property and even the lives of Confederate
soldiers and sympathizers. Our command was ordered
there to break up some of these organizations, and to
capture the ringleaders. It was a thankless task, but one
requiring some ability, and not unattended with danger.
Marching out from Chrlstlansburg to a point In the
mountains of Floyd, we went into camp in the very heart
of what was known as Sisson's Kingdom. That was the
name of a large family residing there. Many of them
had volunteered, and then deserted ; and now they and
their friends held sway, defied the law, invited other
runaways to join them, and resisted all control of Con
federate authority.
When this state of affairs, extending over a wide stretch
of country, became known to me in the auturan of 1864,
It caused ray first misgivings concerning our ultimate
success ; it was so widespread, and so strangely In con
trast with the loyalty of the mountaineers In the Revolu
tion, when Washington proclaimed that to them he looked
as his last reliance In extremity.
Colonel Preston, notwithstanding his genial nature, was
a man of resources and firmness. If he hated one mean

386 THE END OF AN ERA
thing worse than another, it was a sneak. He counted
these deserters among the most contemptible of the human
race ; and, while he was incapable of brutality towards
any living- creature, he knew when to be severe, and be
lieved it was his duty to deal with them suramarily, and
break them up.
His first advices upon our arrival were to the effect
that our presence had caused the deserters to abscond.
He did not believe a word of this, but pretended that he
did. With great cunning, he acted as if he proposed
making no efforts to secure them. At the same time,
through a well-planned system of spies, he was ascertain
ing accurately their whereabouts and habits. More than
once, he sent me many miles away to receive reports from
his spies, so as to avoid having them seen about our own
camp. In due tirae, he was ready to act. The deserters, who
had in fact left their homes when we appeared, began to
make their presence felt. Lured by our apparent indiffer
ence, they became Incautious. The old fellow knew the
location of the house of every deserter, and which were
ringleaders, and which of them were at home. He had
also located several deserter camps in the raountains.
Now came the part of his plan most difficult of execution.
Awaiting the time when the moon rose late, he divided
several companies of our regiment Into small parties under
comraand of intelligent officers. The men were not told
of the nature of the expedition. Only the officers intrusted
with the work were thoroughly instructed in the locations
to be sought, and the duties to be perforraed.
Upon the night selected, we started forth. Those hav
ing the greatest distances to travel left earliest. The
man whom I was assigned to capture was a notorious
feUow, living about six miles away in a sequestered gorge

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 387
of the mountains, quite remote from any road. I had a
party of ten men. A guide conducted us, and the way in
which he threaded his course in the darkness throug-h a
o
trackless forest was truly marvelous. Towards midnight
he whispered that we were nearing the deserter's cabin.
Leaving the men behind us, we approached and walked
around the preraises to get the correct location. Return
ing, I brought the men up and instructed them in their
duties. They were deployed in a circle around the pre
mises, and advanced by signals given from man to man.
It was a business calculated to make a man's blood run
very chilly. A dog barked ! He came bounding out.
One of the men plunged a bayonet into his breast, between
his forelegs, so true that he never yelped or whined.
" Who 's there ? " called a sharp, nasal, female voice
from within. No one answered. The words were re
peated. I was to do the talking.
"Is that Mrs.  ?" I asked, as soon as I could
control my voice.
" Yes. Who are you ? what do you want ? " came
back quickly and excitedly. I dropped to the ground,
placed my ear to it, and was sure I heard shuffling about
within the house, and a sound like that of a closing door.
When she had repeated her questions, I said quietly,
" We have come to arrest your husband. He need not
attempt to resist or escape. The house is surrounded."
Betraying her excitement by her strident answer, she
exclaimed : " William can't here, thank God, and ean't
bin here for more 'n a month. I hope by this he has
reached the Yankee Hues. Thar 's whar he started fur,
and whar I told him to go ef he didn't want to be
kiUed." "You must permit us to search the house, madam,"
said I, as kindly as I could.

388 THE END OF AN ERA
" Cert'nly. You kin search the house," said she ; but
she delayed some time before unbolting the door.
While waiting for admission, I took four men and
posted them opposite the ends and sides of the house, teU-
Ing them to watch beneath it, and not to move or utter a
word. One of them sat down on what seemed to be a
goods box, about twenty feet from the gable end of the
cabin. Then I detailed two other men to build a fire in
the yard. With the four other men, I entered the cabin.
It was a pathetic sight, and ray heart chlded me for the
part I bore In It. The woman's teeth were chattering with
excitement and fright. Three children sat up In a trundle-
bed. The poor woman had tried to beat up a feather-bed,
and had drawn the covering over it on one side, so as to
give It the appearance of having had but one occupant ;
but when I threw the sheets back, there were the prints
of two bodies, and It was warm on both sides. The babies
began to cry. One pleaded, " Where 's my papa ? " The
mother hushed its raouth with her hand.
There was no doubt about his being there. The only
question was, where was he ? Vain was the search In the
closets, under the bed, In the half room under the roof,
and up the chimney. At last we examined the floor, and
found a broad, loose plank. But the ground underneath
the plank was unbroken, and our men could, by the light
of the newly-lit fire, see under the whole structure. In
one corner beneath the house we noticed a pile of loose
dirt, but it made no impression at the time. We had
almost abandoned the search, when, of a sudden, a tre
mendous hubbub in the yard sent all of us running there.
It was on the dark side of the house. We heard a stifled
cry of " Help ! Here he is ! Help ! " and, as we came up,
we saw two raen, half burled in the earth, grappled and
struggling for the possession of a gun.

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 389
The deserter, escaping, had run into the arms of my
sentinel. Sitting there on the goods box, watching In
tently, the sentinel heard a sound below him. He was an
inteUigent, strapping youngster of about eighteen. Re
membering ray caution to be quiet, he stepped aside and
listened. A moment later the box tilted towards him, and
he squatted behind it so that it concealed him. He saw
the man's head and shoulders emerge from a hole In the
ground. The deserter passed up his gun, and was scram-
bHng out of the hole, when the sentinel sprang upon him,
and the struggle in which we found them engaged began.
The deserter was the stronger of the two, and had nearly
dragged the young fellow back Into the hole with him
when we came up. The other men promptly lent a help
ing hand, and we soon had our prisoner secured.
He had dug a tunnel* under his house, so that when
danger threatened he could drop through the floor, crawl
to the opening of his secret passageway, and, passing
through It, corae out beyond the cordon of sentinels and
escape. No one would have suspected that the box In the
yard, with Its dirty flooring of planks and grass, was the
outlet of his subterranean gallery. On several previous
occasions, he had eluded arrest In this way. Catching
him now was simply accidental good luck. The fellow
yielded without many words. He was a superb specimen
of manhood, and not bad-looking. When we started
away, he said, " Good-by, Sal. See you ag'In soon, I
reckin," and then he looked at me and laughed, kissed the
children, and said, " Wall, I guess I 'm ready." The
woman had become defiant and abusive, and refused
some money which I offered her.
The reticence and secretiveness of these people was
surprising. They were fearless, and hated inveterately.
They declined favors of any kind. Before we had gone

390 THE END OF AN ERA
a quarter of a mile, we heard a cow's horn winded from
the cabin. It was the signal of the woman to her friends.
It was almost day when we reached the camp. Several
other parties had returned before us. By eight o'clock,
all our raiders were back. A few had made failures.
One party had a sharp fusllade with the deserters, and
had a man wounded. Most of us were successful, and
our expeditions brought an aggregate of between fifteen
and twenty deserters into camp. They were placed in
charge of a strong guard, and sent back to Christians-
burg. Having secured the most notorious of their lead
ers, we flattered ourselves that we had broken the back of
their rebellion ; but in this we deluded ourselves.
Within a week, the surgeon of the regiment rode out
with me to a farm where we heard we could procure
good butter. As we were returning through a narrow
pass, talking unconcernedly, and with no thought of
danger, we saw two puffs of smoke away up araong the
rhododendrons on the mountain-side, and almost at tbe
same raoraent that we heard the reports my horse gave
a snort and plunge, and the doctor exclairaed, " I am
shot ! " I saw him seize his bridle with his right arm.
We put spurs to our horses, and galloped out of that
pass in a lively way.
" Hurt much, doctor?" said I.
" No ; but my bridle arm Is disabled," he replied.
Just as we cleared the pass, ray horse, which had been
behaving singularly, sturabled and fell, and I found he was
shot through the body, back of the saddle-skirts. A trail
of blood marked our course along the road. By good luck
the beast belonged to the Confederate States. The doc
tor and I lost no time riding home together on his horse.
His arm, although broken, soon healed ; but we hunted
for no more butter on that trip to Floyd.

THE CONFEDERATE RESERVES 391
Winter was coming on. We were ordered to return to
Dublin Depot, and to build cabins or shelters for winter
quarters. Soon snow feU, and we entered on a period of
dreary inactivity. As Christmas approached, I obtained
a short furlough, glad enough to return from the moun
tains to friends and relatives near Richmond. Two or
three days after my departure, the regiment was again
suddenly ordered to Saltville, which Burbridge captured
December 20, with part of our command ; but I did not
hear of It until a week after the occurrence.

CHAPTER XXTV
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Hints from home Indicated that by this tirae visitors
to the Confederate capital were most welcome when they
brought their rations.
I had been living in a land of milk and honey. In the
rich pasture lands of the southwest, people were still
blessed with comparative plenty. Their herds of cattle
were unexhausted, and supplied them with abundance of
dairy products. Before starting on furlough, I gathered
together quite a supply of butter, eggs, maple sugar,
honey, and other household comforts. We had no express
service, and, to guard against the plunder of ray treasures,
I rode with thera in a baggage-car. Butter cost only
$8 a pound and eggs were but $3 a dozen, in southwest
Virginia, whereas the prices in Richmond were $25 a
pound and #6 a dozen.
On arriving in ' Richmond, I was hailed as a shrewd
trader and rare purveyor. The city, in its chill winter
garb, showed signs of desperate depletion. The problem
of sustenance had become serious, even with the rich.
The clothing of the most prosperous was simple, do
mestic, even rough. The poorer classes were scantily clad
in every kind of makeshift garment, ofttimes In rags.
People without overcoats met one another upon the streets,
and talked over the prospects of peace, with their teeth
chattering, their thin garments buttoned over their chests,
their shoulders drawn up, their gloveless hands sunk deep

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 393
into their pockets for warmth. At meals, the dishes were
few and simple, procured at prices which sound fabulous.
Many a family existed upon little else than bacon and
cornfield peas. General Lee, who had a keen sense of
humor, and who, under less trying conditions, would have
allowed his wit to play freely, was once asked by some
idle chatterer who, in his opinion, was the best friend
of the Confederacy. Answering a fool according to his
foUy, he repHed, with a twinkle of his eye, "The only
unfaUing friend the Confederacy ever had was cornfield
peas." Many States have chosen flowers as their emblem.
Some, If not aU, of the members of the Confederate sister
hood ought. In gratitude, to select the blossom of the corn
field pea. Time was when it was their " friend In need
and friend indeed." Nobody knows how raany people In
the Confederacy It kept from actual starvation. I never
see a bag of cornfield peas without feeling like taking off
my hat and saying, " Here is to you and the rest of your
family. May you live long and prosper."
Even the banked and economically screened coals in
the grates showed the pinch of hard times. When gas
was produced at aU, It was of the most Inferior quality,
and at such exorbitant prices that most people were
reduced to the use of tallow candles.
Hospitable friends, with ample means, were ashamed
to invite visitors to share their humble fare. Long lines
of stores were closed : there was nothing to sell. Cigars
of ordinary quality were f 10 each, and whiskey was |5 a
drink. I needed a uniform coat. After diligent bargain
ing, I engaged one at f 2000, payable on delivery. My
pay was 1120 a month, but I borrowed the money, ordered
the coat, and had to wait a month for it. A man who
brought articles through the Union lines, by making trips

394

THE END OF AN ERA

In a canoe across the Chesapeake Bay, procured a black
felt hat for rae. I considered it a bargain when he deliv
ered It for 1100. I bought sorae leather from a tan-vat
while In southwest Virginia, and the making of the boots
with ray own leather cost me f 150.
The town was filled with hospitals. Several of them
took their names frora the people whose houses had been
devoted to these uses. Many ladies had volunteered as
matrons, and even as attendants. It was part of the daily
life of Richmond for women to save something from their
scant sustenance, and take or send it to the sick and
wounded. One devoted woman so distinguished and en
deared herself to everybody by her self-sacrifice that the
name of Sally Tompkins is known to the Confederates
as well as Florence Nightingale to the British, or Clara
Barton to Americans. She was commissioned a captam,
and the boys all call her, even now, " Captain Sally."
God will raake her an officer of higher grade.
'Mj father had long since rejoined his brigade. They
were now transferred to the right of our army at Hatcher's
Run. The privations and sufferings which officers and
men were undergoing were very fearful. They were hud
dled In snow and mud, -without adequate supplies of food
or fuel or clothing. I went out to the camp, but had not
heart to remain long. The struggle was no longer a test
of valor in excitement : it had becorae one of inactive
endurance. The Confederate authorities had adopted the policy of
enlisting negro troops. One sunny afternoon, I visited
the Capitol Square, and witnessed the parade and driU of
a battalion of Confederate darkeys. The sight was in
strange contrast with other parades I had witnessed there,
— that, for example, of the New York Seventh in 1868,
or of the cadets, even, in the preceding May.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 395
" Ah ! " I thought, " this is but the beginning of the
end." Yet were there thousands — many of them old, many of
them actuaUy pale from insufficient nutriment, many of
them without money or employraent to provide for pre
sent or future — who still believed that the Confederacy
would achieve its independence.
The Confederate Congress passed resolutions of hope,
and sent orators to the trenches and camps to tell the sol
diers that " the darkest hour was just before day." One
of these blatant feUows I recall particularly. He had
been a fire-eater, a nuUIfier, a secessionist, a blood-and-
thunder orator, foremost in urging that we " fight for our
rights in the Territories." He was a young man, an able-
bodied raan, and a man of decided ability. But never for
one moraent was his precious carcass exposed to danger.
There was soraething inexpressibly repulsive to me, and
irritating beyond expression, when I saw raen like this,
from their safe places. In a lull in hostilities, ride down to
the Confederate lines during that awful winter, and coun
sel our poor soldiers to fight on. Even if It was right to
fight on, they had no right to advise it. Old Jubal Early
had opposed the war until it actually came upon him, but
when it was Inevitable, he fought. Things were turning
out just as he had predicted they would. When these
people, whose extravagant oratory had done so much to
bring on the fight, and who had then contributed nothing
of personal service to sustain it, came among his starving
men to urge them to sacrifices which they themselves had
never made, he treated them with undisguised scorn. He
refused to attend their meeting. From the door of his
hut he blistered them with his biting satire : —
" Well — well —  ! " he shouted ; " still sicking
them on, are ye ? " " Before you leave, tell them what

396 THE END OF AN ERA
you think of your rights In the Territories now." " One
day out here with a musket would help the cause more
than aU your talk." " Don't talk the men to death. You
can't talk the Yankees to death. Fighting is the only
thing that talks now."
" Old Jubal " had his faults, but skulking in bomb-
proofs was not one of them. The raen had implicit faith
in his unflinching courage. He punctured and embalmed
the lip-service of these " last ditchers," as he called them ;
and his soldiers, taking the cue from him, hooted and de
rided them, and long resented their unwelcome Intrusion.
Yet have I lived to see fellows of that very class and
coterie successfully pose as surviving representatives of
the Confederate cause, and avail themselves of the false
assumption to belittle the loyalty and service of real Con
federate soldiers, because, forsooth, those true and tried
men, long after the Confederate cause was dead and
burled, dared to differ from them on current policies.
Let us turn to the more interesting description of social
conditions at Richmond during the last days of the Con
federacy. It is a raerciful provision of Providence which supplies
diversion to mankind in the most desperate of situations.
In the beleaguered capital, even araid the darkest hours
of our fortunes, there were hearts throbbing with old emo
tions which banish thoughts of grief ; and places where
people met, clothed In the impenetrable armor of youth
and joy, to dance and laugh adversity to scorn. War,
pestilence, and famine are impotent to slay, infect, or
starve the little naked archer.
Richmond was filled with young girls betrothed to
young officers in the trenches about that city and Peters
burg. It was not susprlsing, for never did a city of its
population contain more beautiful and briUiant women
than did Richmond at that time.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 397
The wedding bells chimed merrily In the wintry air for
the coming nuptials of Colonel William B. Tabb, 59th
Virginia Infantry, Wise's Brigade, and Miss Emily Ruth
erford. The Tabbs were among the oldest people of Tidewater,
and the Rutherfords were of the best of Richmond's
earliest business men. Colonel Tabb was a tall, brown-
eyed, winsome youth of twenty-eight, whose gallantry on
many a field gave him more than ordinary title to his
stars, and whose modesty and gentleness had brought
him troops of friends.
Emily Rutherford, with her peach-bloom cheeks and
great, wondering, fawn-like eyes, was " queen of the rose
bud garden of girls " of her own circle ; and Mr. and
Mrs. Rutherford presided over a home proverbial for its
hospitality, even at a time when the hunger and thirst
of Richmond society was abnormal.
Thus, from every point of view, whether of pride in
Tabb, or love for Emily, or the hungry hopes and trust of
society in the gastronomic abilities of the old folks, all
things conspired to make the approaching wedding the
social event of the season.
The scene at the church was far more briUiant than
one would fancy it could be after the descriptions given.
Few girls with any social pretensions in Richraond had
failed to wheedle or cajole some admiring blockade-run
ning magnate into fetching them a silk or ribbon or
feather from the outside world for this occasion. These
blockade-runners were the only nabobs in the place : carry
ing their fortunes, their liberty, and sometimes their
lives in their hands, they alone seemed possessors of the
secret wherewith, even amidst poverty and want, to con
jure up wealth and luxury. They still wore broadcloth
and fine linen, drank French brandy, and smoked black

398 THE END OF AN ERA
cigars. To them, and them alone, could bride and brides
maids, matron and raaid, look for the brave toggery so
essential upon occasions like this ; and the sea-dogs had
not failed their fair dependents.
To rae, the Tabb-Rutherford nuptials was an event of
a lifetime ; it had been years since I had seen such a
gorgeous function. Nothing like it had been possible in
Presbyterian Lexington, or the Petersburg front, or in
the western Virginia mountains. Not only was it to
seal the happiness of two dear friends, not only were the
brave and young to be there, but it was to be a notable
assembling of the great ! What was I to wear ?
I had a pair of " captured " trousers, originally destined
for a private In the Union array, now converted into a
Confederate officer's best attire. Pretty fair trousers they
were, worn with a long-tailed coat, but unfit for use with
a jacket. My boots, which cost me so much in the mak
ing, were finished, but of fair leather ; that was a smaU
matter: lamp-black and oil were still plentiful, and, after
half an hour of hard work, they shone black and re
splendent. But my $2000 coat : it was only In embryo.
There was no hope of its being finished In time. What
was to be done ? Coats were coats in those days, and not
to be found hanging on every bush. Vainly, here and
there, I sought for the wedding garraent. Every one
whose coat might fit me was as intent as myself upon
attending that entertainment.
We were talking it over at the mess, when, to ray great
relief, Barksdale Warwick, one of my father's aids,
took me aside and whispered to me that he would be on
duty the day of the wedding, and, if I could use it, I
might wear his new coat. Now " Barkey " was a first
lieutenant in the " Canaries," as we called the staff, while
I was only a subaltern in the " Blues," as they dubbed

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 399
the infantry : arrayed in his coat with buff trimmings,
with infantry stripes on my trousers, my attire would
indeed be somewhat Incongruous. President Davis, or
the Secretary of War, if there, might, on close scrutiny,
wonder what branch of service I represented. But these
were minor considerations, for I was going to that ball,
and this was my last chance.
The real question was not one of style, but one of fit.
Ay, there was the rub ! for Barksdale Warwick was
fully six feet high, and thin as a riding-whip, while I was
short, and plump as a partridge. But I gratefully ac
cepted a note to his mother, and, on the day of the wed
ding, marched proudly to my lodgings with the coveted
article under my arm.
It was not without grave misgivings that I stepped
forth attired for the wedding. The length of Barks-
dale's waist was such that the bottom buttons of that
coat somewhat constrained the movement of my hips ;
the coat-tails nearly reached my ankles ; as for the
sleeves, I was fortunate to get occasional glances at my
finger-tips. The whole effect was to give me the appear
ance of a giant in body, a dwarf in legs, and an unfortu
nate who had lost both hands. As I came downstairs,
drawing on a pair of new white thread-gloves, a married
sister nearly paralyzed me by a well-intended corapliraent
upon my " nice new overcoat," and my witty wag of a
sister, whose escort I was, shrieked with merriment at ray
remarkable attire.
But what cared I ? I would have gone In a meal-sack.
The larger the coat, the better ; it gave more commodious
opportunity to fill it with Mr. Rutherford's good cheer.
At church, the judicious handling of a military cape
veiled somewhat this extraordinary outfit ; but when the
house was reached, no subterfuges longer availed. We

400 THE END OF AN ERA
stood revealed and undisguised, such as we were. If my
appearance was extraordinary, in the vernacular of to
day, " there were others." The men had misfits of many
makes ; sorae even displayed patches. As for the cos
tumes of the ladies, they were wonderful to behold.
They seemed to have ransacked every old trunk In the
garrets of Richmond, and some had actuaUy utilized the
lace and damask window-curtains of peace times. But a
jollier and happier seeming throng was never assembled.
Tent-flies Inclosed the large rear veranda, where a mili
tary band was stationed ; holly and all kinds of evergreen
had been used for decoration. The bride and groom re
ceived under an immense wedding bell of evergreens, a
token of love for their colonel, made with their own
hands, from the bushes growing about them, by the men
of Tabb's regiment. Who were there ? Everybody that
was anybody.
There was Mr. President Davis : he was assuredly a
very clean-looking raan ; his raanners were those of a dig
nified, gracious gentleman accustomed to good society.
He claimed his tribute kiss from the bride, and well he
might, for seldora had he culled one more sweet or pure.
From the blushing girl he turned with a gracious compli
ment to her husband : " For a bribe like that, colonel,
you may demand a week's extension of your leave."
Tabb, with his hazel eyes, his red-brown hair and beard,
and two briUiant hectic spots glowing upon his cheeks,
towered above him, smiling, bowing, and supremely
happy. Mr. Davis looked thin and careworn. Natu
rally refined In his appearance, his hair and beard were
bleaching rapidly ; and his bloodless cheeks and slender
nose, with its clear-cut, flat nostril, gave hira almost the
appearance of emaciation. Yet his eye was bright, his
smile was winning, and manner most attractive. When

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 401
he chose to be deferential and kindly, no man could excel
him. When strongly moved, few men of his day sur
passed him in eloquence. On occasion, he could touch
the popular heart with a master hand. On his arm was
Mrs. Davis, his very opposite in physique, looking as if,
to use an old expression, " the gray mare was the better
horse." Physically, she was large and looked well fed.
Among us " Irreverents," it was believed that Mrs. Davis
possessed great influence over her husband, even to the
point that she could secure promotion for us, if she liked.
She was intensely loyal to him, took no pains to conceal
her pride in him, and was, perhaps, a trifle quick to
show resentment towards those not as enthusiastic as she
thought they should be in their estimate of his abilities.
She had, araong those who knew her best, warm, enthusi
astic friends.
Close upon these came young Burton Harrison, the
President's private secretary, looking like a fashion-plate
in his perfect outfit. Harrison was popular, and every
body had some cordial Inquiry as to how he maintained
such an immaculate wardrobe, when all the world besides
was In rags. Speaking a gracious word here and there
as he passed on, he soon joined willowy Connie Cary for
a waltz. When Breckinridge, Secretary of War, strode up, he
brought the perfume of Kentucky Bourbon with him. As
he and Tabb stood side by side, one thought of the wide-
spreading forest oak topping up beside the slender pine.
There was the frankness of the soldier, the breadth of
the statesman, the heartiness and courtesy to woman, of
the Southern man of the world. In his every look and
word. The oleaginous Benjamin, Secretary of State, next
glided in, his keg-like form and over-deferential manner

402 THE END OF AN ERA
suggestive of a prosperous shopkeeper. But his eye
redeemed him, and his speech was elegantly polished,
even if his nose was hooked and his thick lips shone red
amidst the curly black of his Semitic beard. Tabb,
looking down upon him, suggested a high-bred grey
hound condescending towards a very clever pug.
Then bluff old Secretary MaUory of the Navy came, —
with no studied speech, but manly, frank, and kind, — one
of the most popular members of the Confederate Cabinet.
After him, Postmaster-General Regan, of Texas, a large,
plain-looking citizen, of more than ordinary common
sense, but ill at ease in gatherings like this, and looking
as if he might have left his carry-log and yoke of oxen at
the door.
And so It went. There was Olivero Andrews, the most
insinuating beau of the capital ; and Cooper de. Leon, tbe
poet, wit, and wag ; and John M. Daniel, the vitriolic
editor of the " Examiner," whose mission seemed to be
to torture the administration with the criticism of his
scathing pen ; and Willie Myers, soldier, dandy, dilet
tante artist, and exquisite ; and the pompous fellow, blaz
ing with gilt, and bearded Hke a pard, derisively called
" the Count,' who was best known for his constant ab
sence frora the front without leave when his coramand was
engaged ; and Baron Heros von Boerck, a giant German,
who had come to fight as a volunteer upon Jeb Stuart's
staff. O Vanity Fair of the dead Confederacy! How
your actors troop before me once again !
" Who is the red-headed fellow with the voice like a
foghorn?" I asked of a corapanlon, as I pointed to a
young subaltern standing in a group of men and women,
who were convulsed at some extravagant story he was
telling. " Tom Ochiltree, of course," said she. " He is the

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 403
young Texan who distinguished himself at the battle of
Valverde, and afterwards as volunteer aid to Longstreet
in the seven days' fighting. He Is the most unique char
acter in Richmond, and is counted one of the bravest
fellows and truest friends, and at the same time one of
the drollest raconteurs, In all the world." A fresh peal
of merriment from the throng about him alraost drowned
her last words.
" And who Is the classic-looking young fellow near him,
with the scars upon his face ? " I asked.
"That is Clarence Prentice," she said; "the oddest
fish in aU the Confederacy. The scars you see are sou
venirs of Heidelberg, not wounds received in battle,
although he has been in many fights. He looks like a
poet or musician, but that raan is everything : he plays
divinely, speaks many tongues, is an exquisite dancer,
sings like an angel, gets drunk, kills men, gambles, and
is altogether startling. According to the mood In which
you find him, he Is a gentleman or ruffian, athlete, all-
round sportsman, exquisite, desperado, or eccentric."
" And who are the ladles of the coterie ? "
" Oh," she said, " that is what we caU the White
House set. The two large girls in white are the Misses
HoweU, sisters of Mrs. Davis. The handsorae blonde is
the daughter of Senator Wigfall, of Texas ; the striking
girl In pink is Miss Campbell, daughter of the Confed
erate Chief Justice, Judge Campbell, of New Orleans."
" And who is this Burmese elephant ? " I asked, as men
and woraen fell back before a great waddling mass of obe
sity, who, in gray clothes and not over-neat linen, carae
elbowing his way inlo the roora, puffing like a porpoise.
" That," said she, " Is General Humphrey Marshall, of
Kentucky. They say he was a brave general, and Is a
shrewd and brilliant politician ; in fact, almost a statesman.

404 THE .END OF AN ERA
He Is at present in the Confederate Congress. His chief
prominence now is as the most inveterate gambler and
hon-vivant in Richmond. He is the man who stakes
thousands on the turn of a card, and, while waiting,
lights his f 10 cigars with |5 Confederate bills."
In this grand rush of humanity there was more than
life enough, and enough that was startling ; but how in
contrast with the gentle, elevating refinement of bygone
days ! The grosser breath of war had penetrated even to
the innermost circle of society, and given it a heat and
noise and indiscrlminateness which, to speak mildly, was
new, and by no means an improvement upon old manners
and old customs.
As I saw them, it seemed to me that the men Intrusted
with the civic administration of the Confederate govern
raent were not of as fine clay as her immortal soldiers,
nor was it, I believe, a mere boyish fancy. Time has
deepened the irapression.
The crush was becoming less dense. The older folk
remained but a little while. The numbers of the guests
necessitated providing refreshments for the most distin
guished and the elderly people first, and for the young
folk a little later.
The President and his cabinet had disappeared. The
stars of the generals went one by one into eclipse behind
the doors of the banquet-halls. Even colonels were rare.
Majors, captains, and lieutenants were of the grades
whence drafts were made for dancers, and here and
there might even be seen a saucy private ; for. In our
army, raany a private soldier was socially the peer of any
body. A band of musicians with stringed instruments filed
into the drawing-rooms when they were sufficiently cleared
of the crowd to admit of dancing. Taking their position

THE BEGINNING OF THE ^END 405
in a corner, the tuning and preliminary flourishes began,
and people sought their partners for the cotillion.
Until now, I had felt abashed by the presence of distin
guished people and superior, officers ; but when it came
to dancing, I considered that I was In my proper element.
RecoUections of cadet triumphs were still fresh. So forth
I sallied for a partner. Meanwhile, a dreamy waltz
floated through the rooms, and the " White House set "
led off. Most striking among them was that Porthos
Von Boerck dancing with one of the lovely Carys. But
more striking still were the remarkable sounds which he
emitted when the dance was finished. Von Boerck, while
riding with Stuart, had been shot through the windpipe.
The Injury caused him, when breathing hard, to utter a
sound like that made by a " roaring horse." After the vio
lent exercise of waltzing, in defiance of instructions from
his surgeon, the great rosy fellow stood leaning against a
piUar, fanning his flushed face, and emitting this remark
able noise. His fair companion was at first alarmed.
When assured that it was not dangerous, and would cease
in a few moraents, her sense of the ludicrous overcame
both her fear and her sympathy, and she called to her
companions to " come and hear Von Boerck whistle." Poor
Von Boerck ! That most amiable and brave fellow — a
universal favorite for both qualities among the girls —
was nearly overcome by this ridiculous exposure. As the
laughing maidens congregated about him, he grew red,
and protested, in his awkward German way : " Oh-h !
Whew-w! — I beg you — whew-w! — spare me — ^whew-w!"
But they did not spare him, and clapped their little
hands with merriment. At last, roaring, and enjoying his
own discomfiture as much as anybody, he burst through
their ranks, and fled to the cool veranda to recover his
composure and aUow his whistle to subside.

406 THE END OF AN ERA
My efforts to secure a partner were futile in several
directions. Nearly all the girls had escorts. Several
looked askance and declined, in a way which made me
doubt whether my costume was altogether a success. Just
as I was growing despondent, our gracious hostess ap
proached and said, " Come with me. I have a charming
partner for you." Then, threading our way to a corner, I
was presented. Charming the young lady was, beyond
question ; and desirable, no doubt, in many ways ; but
candor compels the admission that she was older than
myself, and not beautiful. And her dress? Oh, that
costume ! Shall I ever forget It ?
Experience had not taught me then how dangerous a
thing it is to permit a hostess, when the music has struck
up and the sets are actually forming, to seize one and
drag hira to a " charraing " girl. A year in society, nay,
a raonth, teaches us that " charming " girls of that de
scription have some inherent disqualification ; for tbe
young and pretty never have to Invoke the aid of the
hostess at so late an hour.
There she was, however, and It was too late to recede,
even if I had wished to do so. I did not wish to recede.
Why should I ? She was gracious, refined, and not a
whit more anxious for a partner than I was myself. Oh,
yes, our families were Intimate. Yes, I was aware th^t
she knew my sisters. I did not mention that I knew she
was schoolmate of an elder sister, now married. We
were out for pleasant, not for unpleasant, speeches. Thus
we chatted as we stood waiting In our places in the
quadrille. I could not help observing her costume. Indeed, she
herself told rae that the dress was her grandmother's,
worn when La Fayette carae to Richmond in 1824. She
had discovered It in an old trunk. I think I never saw

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 407
anything, either before or afterwards, exactly like it. I
cannot, for lack of technical knowledge, correctly describe
female attire, but from such vague efforts as I make,
those versed In costuming may gain some idea concern
ing it.
First of all, the lady, viewed laterally, was the flattest
lady I ever beheld. Viewed from front or rear, she was
unusually wide. The laced bodice was cut with becoming
modesty about the neck, but that same bodice ran down
ward to a point, until I thought it would never stop. I
think that. In the vernacular of the tiraes of Its construc
tion, it was called a stomacher. Viewed from rear, never
another back was so long, unless It was my own In Barks
dale Warwick's coat. At the hips, the dress rose up In
fluffs. In coloring and texture, it resembled certain flow
ered goods I have since seen used In upholstering parlor
furniture. The head-gear accorapanying It was indescrib
able. Maybe It was Pompadour. There were ostrich-
feathers with it. I think she said she wore prunella slip
pers. Possibly it was some other kind. All this I saw
and learned as we were waiting for the music, to strike up.
More I saw, and I heartily wish I had not, for it cost rae
a newly formed and valued friendship. As we stood there
waiting, two mischievous girls — one a blonde, the other a
brunette, the brightest pair of wags and wits in Richmond
— ¦ were leaning over a large sofa at the further end of
the room. They had preferred not to dance. There
they stood watching, laughing, giggling, observing every
thing that was grotesque, and making comments which
were simply convulsing to aU hearers. They were ray
choicest intimates. At an unlucky moment, I caught
their wicked eyes. They were carefully dissecting the
appearance of my partner and myself. Knowing what
was coming, with a pleasant reprobatory smile I pleaded

408 THE END OF AN ERA
with my eyes that they should not laugh at us, as if to
say, " I don't mind it for rayself, but the lady Is a compar
ative stranger, and you must not embarrass her."
I might as weU have tried to check the incoming tide.
They had seen us. They were watching us, wild with
merriment. They were pointing at us. They were at
tracting the attention of others to us. I saw It. I knew
intuitively the inimitably funny things they were saying.
Their mirth was infectious, and I was scarce able to give
heed to the polite speeches my companion was making, or
to suppress the rebellious twitchlngs of my mouth. But
I did not quite realize how absurd our appearance really
was. Thus charged with merriment, I bowed, as the
music sounded for the dance.
A scream behind us nearly threw me off my balance.
My partner, all unconscious of the by-play, was serene
and gracious. On the opposite wall hung an old-fashioned
mirror, slightly convex, ornamented with a spread-eagle
over Its top. It shone like burnished steel, but it was so
tilted against the wall that one could only see one's self
when near the middle of the room. " Balance to the
centre." We were doing famously. Holding her tiny
hand, we balanced forth. She was speaking low, and was
saying something very captivating. I had regained con
trol of my risibles. Oh ! why did I look up ? Why did
I catch, in that old mirror, the full reflections of our
selves ? The effect was Irresistible. I gave one fatal
snort, — that snort which Is so deadly to all check of
mirth when we are striving hardest to control ourselves.
I was hopelessly gone. I clapped both hands to my face,
and laughed and laughed until the tears ran down my
cheeks. Wonder, perplexity, wrath, in turn carae over the face
of my partner. She could not understand. I could not

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 409
explain. We finished the figure in silence. At its con
clusion, she asked that I take her to some friends. She
bowed frigidly to me, as If to say, " Go ! " and go I went.
She never again so much as nodded her head to rae. I
rushed back to my tormentors to reproach them. They
caUed me " Wheelbench," and laughed anew. It was the
narae of a certain breed of little vagabond dogs noted for
their long bodies and short legs. My rage only added
fuel to the flaraes of their ridicule. Never did such an
attired pair dance together, I ween. Never were there
such hilarious spectators.
A Cruikshank, a Nast, a Davenport might have sup
plied himself for life with caricatures at that raeraorable
gathering. For myself, I danced no more that night.
About midnight, a new and distinct coterie of guests
arrived. They were a party of hon-vivant friends of the host.
By one means or another, this band secured the best to
be had. To this feast of their companion, each and aU
had made their contribution. And now they had come to
join hira in celebrating the happy event of his daughter's
marriage, and to partake of his good cheer.
There was big John Carvell, the Canadian blockade-
runner, who had sent a few bottles of champagne, — a
luxury then almost beyond price ; and Major Robert Ould,
the Confederate Commissioner of Exchange of Prisoners,
who never failed to secure for himself, on his trip down
the river to meet the Union Commissioners of Exchange,
an ample supply of the best food and drink ; and Major
" Buck " Allen, of Claremont, whose cellars were still
unexhausted ; and young Hatch, of Missouri, Assistant
Commissioner of Exchange ; and Major Legh Page, and
Major Isaac Carrington, of the Subsistence Department.
There was an air of business about these men. They

410 THE END OF AN ERA
had come for good cheer. What of creature comforts
they did not secure was simply not to be had. What this
party enjoyed In their private room, what cigars they
smoked, what games they played with their host, how
long they stayed, is beyond my ken. All that we lesser
lights knew was that they had the reputation of being the
only habitually well-fed and luxurious citizens of Rich
mond. Supper for the general public was announced in due
tirae, and, doubt it as you may. It was a sumptuous
repast. There were no sweets and ices, such as are seen In pip
ing times of peace. But there was ornamentation ! The
pyramids, built of little balls of butter, were really pretty.
They towered like the spun sugar, and nougat, or divided
oranges, we see to-day. And great piles of rosy apples
gave color to the feast. Terrapin, canvas-back ducks,
pates, and the like were missing. Our friends, the enemy,
had even cut us off from oysters. But there were tur
keys and hams and delicious breads, and most beautlfuUy
stuffed eggs, and great piles of smoking sausages, and
dishes of unsurpassed domestic pickles. There were no
oils for salads, no sugar for preserves. Some one had
given the bride a wedding present of coffee, and the rooms
were filled with its delightful aroma. This we drank
sugarless, with great gusto. Great bowls of apple toddy,
hot and cold, filled with roasted pippins, stood on the
tables, and furnished all needful warmth and cheerfulness
for any wedding feast.
So you see, dear readers, that, even to the last, there
were times and places in the Confederacy where we got
together and did like other and more prosperous folk, —
" Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow you die."
In the gray of a winter morning, the cold bright stars

THE BEGINNING OF THE END 411
twinkling above us, we men and women sought our homes
afoot. Vehicles and horses were not to be had for love or
raoney. Gathering their dainty skirts about thera, matron
and maid, who In other days had never walked three
blocks away from home, picked their way through the
deserted streets, laughing over the delightful scenes they
had left behind. They laid their heads upon their pillows
that night, happy, not discontented, because of the sacri
fices they had made for a cause we all loved.
" Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow ye die." Let
us not inquire how many of the gallant souls who laughed
and danced and ate and drank that night fulfilled the
whole prophecy in the whirlwind of war which swept frora
Richmond to Petersburg, from Petersburg to Appomat
tox, In the next three months. The story is sad enough
without such details.
" Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow ye die."
Within five years from that joyous night, the blooming
bride was laid to rest in her Confederate wedding-gown.
Within a decade, her parents, host and hostess of that
night, slept side by side in the cemetery at Hollywood ;
and the soldier-groom, spared by the bolts of war, but
undermined in health by the exposure of the camp, lost a
sweet life for a cause which was already lost.
The places which knew them know them no raore.
Their naraes are almost forgotten now, under the rule of
another king that knew not Joseph.
So wags the world away.

CHAPTER XXV
THE END IN SIGHT
At the time of the evacuation of Richmond, in 1865, 1
had been in the Confederate army for about ten months,
had reached the mature age of eighteen, and had attained
the rank of lieutenant. I was for the time at Clover Star
tion, on the Richmond and Danville Railroad, south of the
fallen capital. A light glimmered in headquarters and at
the telegraph station. Suspecting that news of Importance
had been received, and knowing the telegraph operator
weU, I repaired to his office. He was sitting at his instru
ment, closely attentive to its busy clicking.
" Any news, Tom ? " inquired I.
Holding up his hand he said, " Yes ! hush I " and con
tinued to listen. Then, seizing his pad and pencil, he
wrote rapidly. Again the clicking of the Instrument
began, and he resumed his attitude of intent listening.
He was catching messages passing over the lines to Dan
ville. During a lull, he informed me that hea-vy fighting
on the right of the army at Five Forks had been going
on all day. In which the slaughter on both sides had been
very great, and that there were reports of the evacua
tion of Petersburg. Repairing to the quarters of General
Walker, I found that he had substantially the same ad
vices. Vainly and despondently we waited until late at
night for more particulars.
Sunday morning broke clear and calm. It was one of
the first of those heavenly spring days which to me seem

THE END IN SIGHT 413
brighter In Virginia than elsewhere. Sitting In a sunny
spot near the telegraph station, a party of staff officers
waited for telegrams until nearly eleven o'clock. Then
a storm of news broke upon us, every word of which was
freighted with deep import to our cause.
Click — click — cHck. " Our lines in front of Peters
burg were broken this morning. General Lee is retiring
from the city."
Click — cHck — cHck. " General A. P. Hill was
killed." CHck — click — click. " Colonel William Peg-ram of
the artiUery also klUed."
Click — click — click. " In the battle of Five Forks,
which continued until long after dark last night, Pickett
was overwhelmed by Sheridan with a greatly superior
force of cavalry and infantry, and the enemy Is now
endeavoring to turn our right, which Is retiring toward
the Appomattox, to make a stand there."
Click — click — click. " Petersburg is evacuated. Our
army in full retreat toward BurkevIUe."
Click — click — click. " General Lee has notified the
President that he can no longer hold Richmond, and
orders have been issued for the iraraediate evacuation of
the city. The town is the scene of the utmost turmoil
and confusion."
General Walker issued the necessary commands to
place our own house In order. There was not much to
be done. Such government stores and provisions as were
at our post were promptly put on freight cars, and every
preparation was made for an orderly departure, if neces
sary. We expected that Lee would make a stand at or
near BurkevIUe, forty miles distant, and that, if he must,
he would retreat along the line of the Richmond and Dau
viUe Railroad. From the accounts of the fighting, I felt

414 THE END OF AN ERA
sure that my father's command was in the thick of it ; and
this fear gave an added trouble to the gloomy reflections
of those sad hours.
When we recall the way in which the most startling
events in our lives have happened, we note how differently
they unfolded themselves from our previous thought of
them. Nay, more : we all recaU that when great events,
which we had anticipated as possible or probable, have
actuaUy begun to occur, we have failed to recognize them.
So it was now with me. That the war might end dis
astrously to the Confederacy, I had long regarded as a
possibility; that our army was sadly depleted and In
great want, I knew ; but that it was literaUy worn out
and killed out and starved out, I did not realize. The
idea that within a week it would stack arms at Appomat
tox, surrender, and be disbanded did not enter into my
mind even then. I still thought that it would retreat,
and, abandoning Richmond, faU back to sorae new posi
tion, where it would fight raany other battles before the
issue was decided.
A few hours later, train after train, all loaded to their
utmost capacity with whatever could be transported from
the doomed capital, came puffing past Clover Station on
the way southward. These trains bore many men who. In
the exclteraent, were unwilling to admit that all was lost.
They frankly deplored the necessity of giving up the Con
federate capital, but insisted that the army was not beaten
or demoralized, and was retreating in good order. They
argued that Lee, relieved of the burden of defending his
long lines frora Richmond to Petersburg, and of the hard
task of maintaining his communications, would draw Grant
away from his base of supplies, and might now, with that
generalship of which we aU knew him to be master, be
free to administer a stunning If not a crushing blow to

THE END IN SIGHT 415
Grant in the open, where strategy might overcome force.
These arguments cheered and revived me. I hoped It
might so turn out. I dared not ask myself if I believed
that it would.
Monday morning, April 3, a train passed Clover bear
ing the President, his Cabinet and chief advisers, to Dan-
vUle. They had left Richmond after the midnight of that
last Sunday when Mr. Davis was notified, while attending
St. Paul's Church, that the immediate evacuation of the
city was unavoidable. Mr. Davis sat at a car window.
The crowd at the station cheered. He smiled and acknow
ledged their compliment, but his expression showed phy
sical and mental exhaustion. Near him sat General Bras-ar,
whose shaggy eyebrows and piercing eyes made him look
like a much greater man than he ever proved himself to
be. In this car was my brother-in-law. Dr. Garnett, fam
ily physician to Mr. Davis. I entered, and sat with him
a few minutes, to learn what I could about the home folk.
His own family had been left at his Richmond residence,
to the mercy of the conqueror. " The presidential train
was followed by many others. One bore the archives and
employees of the Treasury Departraent, another those of
the Post Office Department, another those of the War
Department. I knew many in aU these departments, and
they told rae the startling Incidents of their sudden flight.
I saw a government on wheels. It was the marvelous
and incongruous debris of the wreck of the Confederate
capital. There were very few women on these trains, but
among the last in the long procession were trains bearing
indiscriminate cargoes of men and things. In one car was
a cage with an African parrot, and a box of tame squir
rels, and a hunchback! Everybody, not excepting the
parrot, was wrought up to a pitch of Intense excitement.
The last arrivals brought the sad news that Richmond

416 THE END OF AN ERA
was in flames. Our departing troops had set fire to the
tobacco warehouses. The heat, as It reached the hogs
heads, caused the tobacco leaves to expand and burst their
fastenings, and the wind, catching up the burning tobacco,
spread it in a shower of fire upon the doomed city. It
was after dark on Monday when the last train from Rich
mond passed Clover Station bound southward. We were
now the northern outpost of the Confederacy. Nothing
was between us and the enemy except Lee's army, which
was retreating toward us, — If indeed it were coming
in this direction. All day Tuesday, and until midday
Wednesday, we waited, expecting to hear of the arrival
of our army at BurkevIUe, or some tidings of Its where
abouts. But the railroad stretching northward was as
silent as the grave. The cessation of aU traffic gave our
place a Sabbath stiUness. Until now, there had been the
constant rumble of trains on this main line of supplies to
the army. After the intense excitement of Monday, when
the whole Confederate government came rushing past at
intervals of a few minutes, the unbroken silence reminded
one of death after violent convulsions.
We still maintained telegraphic communication with
BurkevIUe, but we could get no definite Inforraation con
cerning the whereabouts of Lee. Telegrams received
Tuesday informed us he was near Amelia Court House.
Wednesday morning we tried In vain to caU up AiHelia
Court House. A little later, BurkevIUe reported the wires
cut at JetersvIUe, ten miles to the north, between Burke
vIUe and Amelia Court House. When General Walker
heard this, he quietly remarked, " They are pressing him
off the line of this road, and forcing him to retreat by the
Southside Road to Lynchburg." I knew the topography
of the country well enough to realize that if the army
passed BurkevIUe Junction, moving westward, our posi-

THE END IN SIGHT 417
tion would be on the left flank and rear of the Union
army, and that we must retire or be captured. Many
messages came from Mr. Davis at Danville, inquiring for
news from General Lee. Shortly after General Walker
reported that the wires were cut at JetersvIUe, another
message carae from Mr. Davis. He asked if General
Walker had a trusted man or officer who, if supplied with
an engine, would venture down the road toward Burke
vIUe, endeavor to communicate with General Lee, ascer
tain from him his situation and future plans, and report
to the President. I was present when this telegram
arrived. By good luck, other and older officers were ab
sent. The suspense and inactivity of the past three days
had been unendurable, and I volunteered gladly for the
service. At first. General Walker said that I was too
young ; but after considering the matter, he ordered me
to hold myself In readiness, and notified Mr. Davis that
he had the man he wanted, and requested him to send
the engine. The engine, with tender and a baggage car,
arrived about eight P. M.
General Walker summoned me to headquarters, and
gave me my final instructions. Taking the map, he
showed me that In all probability the enemy had forced
General Lee westward from BurkevIUe, and that there
was danger of finding the Union troops already there. I
was to proceed very slowly and cautiously. If the enemy
was not in BurkevIUe, I must use my judgment whether
to switch my train on the Southside Road and run west
ward, or to leave the car and take a horse. If the enemy
had reached BurkevIUe, as he feared, I was to run back
to a station called Meherrin, return the engine, secure a
horse, and endeavor to reach General Lee. " The reason
that I suspect the presence of the enemy at BurkevIUe,"
said he, " Is that this evening, after a long sUence, we have

418 THE END OF AN ERA
received several telegrams purporting to come from Gen
eral Lee, urging the forwarding of stores to that point.
From the language used, I am satisfied that It is a trick
to capture the trains. But I may be mistaken. You
must be careful to ascertain the facts before you get too
close to the place. Do not aUow yourself to be captured."
Tbe general was not a demonstrative man. He gave
me an order which Mr. Davis had signed in blank. In
which my name was inserted by General Walker, setting
forth that, as special messenger of the President, I was
authorized to impress all necessary men, horses, and pro
visions to carry out my Instructions. He accompanied me
to the train, and remarked that he had determined to try
me, as I seemed so anxious to go ; that it was a delicate
and dangerous mission, and that its success depended
upon ray quickness, ability to judge of situations as they
arose, and powers of endurance. He ordered the engineer,
a young, strong fellow, to place hiraself implicitly under
my comraand. I threw a pair of blankets into the car,
shook hands cordially with the general, buttoned my
papers In my breast pocket, and told the engineer to
start. I did not see General Walker again for more than
twenty years.
I carried no arms except a navy revolver at ray hip,
with some loose cartridges in my haversack. The night
was chilly, still, and overcast. The moon struggled out
now and then from watery clouds. We had no headlight,
nor any light in the car. It seemed to me that our train
was the noisiest I had ever heard. The track was badly
worn and very rough. In raany places It had been bol
stered up with beams of wood faced with strap iron, and
we were compelled to move slowly. The stations were
deserted. We had to put on our own wood and water.
I lay down to rest, but nervousness banished sleep. The

THE END IN SIGHT 419
solitude of the car became unbearable. When we stopped
at a water-tank, I swung down from the car and clam
bered up to the engine. Knowing that we might have to
reverse It suddenly, I ordered the engineer to cut loose
the baggage car and leave it behind. This proved to be
a wise precaution.
About two o'clock, we reached Meherrin Station, twelve
miles south of BurkevIUe. It was dark, and the station
was deserted. I succeeded in getting an answer from an
old man in a house near by, after hamraering a long tirae
upon the door. He had heard us, but he was afraid to
reply. " Have you heard anything from Lee's army? " I asked.
" Naw, nothin' at all. I heerd he was at Amelia Cote
House yisterday."
" Have you heard of or seen any Yankees hereabouts ? "
" None here yit. I heerd there was some at Green Bay
yisterday, but they had done gone back."
" Back where ? "
"I dunno. Back to Grant's array, I reckin."
" Where is Grant's army ? "
" Gord knows. It 'pears to me like it 's everywhar."
" Are there any Yankees at BurkevIUe ? "
" I dunno. I see a man come by here late last evenin',
and he said he come from BurkevIUe ; so I reckin there
were n't none thar when he lef, but whether they Is come
sence, I can't say."
I determined to push on. When we reached Green
Bay, eight miles from BurkevIUe, the place was dark and
deserted. There was nobody from whom we could get
information. A whippoorwill in the swamp added to
the oppressive silence aU about. Moving onward, we dis
covered, as we cautiously approached a turn in the road
^ near BurkevIUe, the reflection of lights against the low-

420 THE END OF AN ERA
hanging clouds. Evidently, somebody was ahead, and
soraebody was building flres. Were these reflections from
the camp-fires of Lee's or of Grant's army, or of any army
at all ? On our right, concealing us from the village and
the viUage from us, was a body of pine woods. Not until
we turned the angle of these woods could we see anything.
I was standing by the engineer. We were both uncertain
what to do. At first, I thought I would get down and
investigate ; but I reflected that I should lose ranch time
in getting back to the engine, whereas, if I pushed boldly
forward until we were discovered, I should be safe if those
who saw us were friends, and able to retreat rapidly if
they were enemies.
" Go ahead ! " I said to the engineer.
" What, lieutenant ? Ain't you afraid they are Yan
kees ? If they are, we 're goners," said he hesitatingly.
" Go ahead ! " I repeated ; and in two minutes more
we were at the curve, with the strong glare of many fires
lighting up our engine. What a sight ! Lines of men
were heaving at the rails by the light of fires built for
working. The fires and working parties crossed our route
to westward, showing that the latter were devoting their
attention to the Southside Road. In the excitement of the
moment, I thought they were destroying the track. In
fact, as I afterward learned, they were raerely changing
the gauge of the rails. Grant, with that wonderful power
he possessed of doing everything at once, was already
altering the railroad gauge so as to fetch provisions up to
his army. The enemy was not only in BurkevIUe, but he
had been there all day, and was thus following up his
occupation of the place. Lee raust be to the north or to
the west of him, pushed away frora Danville Road, and
either upon or trying to reach the Southside Railroad,
which led to Lynchburg. All these things I thought out

THE END IN SIGHT 421
a little later, but not just at that Inoment. A blazing
meteor would not have astonished our foes more than the
sight of our locomotive. They had not heard our ap
proach, amid the noise and confusion of their own work.
They had no picket out in our direction, for this was their
rear. In an instant, a number of troopers rushed for their
horses and came galloping down upon us. They were but
two or three hundred yards away.
" Reverse the engine ! " I said to the engineer. He
seemed paralyzed. I drew my pistol.
" It 's no use, lieutenant. They '11 kill us before we get
under away," and he fumbled with his lever.
" Reverse, or you 're a dead man ! " I shouted, clapping
the muzzle of my pistol behind his ear. He heaved at the
lever ; the engine began to move, but how slowly ! The
troopers were coming on. We heard them cry, " Surren
der ! " The engine was quickening her beats. They saw
that we were running, and they opened fire on us. We
lay down flat, and let the locomotive go. The fireman on
the tender was in an exposed position, and seemed to be
endeavoring to burrow in the coal. A shot broke a win
dow above us. Presently the firing ceased. Two or three
of the foremost of the cavalrymen had tumbled into a
cattle-guard, in their reckless pursuit. We were safe
now, except that the engine and tender were in momen
tary danger of jumping the rotten track.
When we were well out of harm's way, the engineer,
with whom I had been on very friendly terms till this last
episode, turned to me and asked, with a grieved look,
" Lieutenant, would you have blowed my brains out sure
'nuff, if I had n't done what you tole me ? "
" I would that," I replied, not much disposed to talk ;
for I was thinking, and thinking hard, what next to do.
" Well," said he, with a sigh, as with a greasy rag he

422 THE END OF AN ERA
gave a fresh rub to a piece of machinery, " all I 've got to
say Is, I don't want to travel with you no mo'."
" You 'U not have to travel far," I rejoined. " I 'U get
off at Meherrin, and you can go back."
" What ! " exclaimed he. " You goin' to get off there
in the dark by yourself, with no boss, and right In the
middle of the Yankees ? Durn my skin if I 'd do it for
Jeff Davis hisself ! "
Upon our arrival at Meherrin, I wrote a few lines to
General Walker, describing the position of the enemy,
and telling hira that I hoped to reach General Lee near
High Bridge by traveling across the base of a triangle
formed by the two railroads from BurkevIUe and my
route, and that I would communicate with him further
when I could.
It was a lonesome feeling that came over me when the
engine went southward, leaving rae alone and in the dark
at Meherrin. The chill of daybreak was coming on, when
I stepped out briskly ujion a road leading northward. I
knew that every minute counted, and that there was no
hope of securing a horse in that -vicinity. I think that I
walked three or four miles. Day broke and the sun rose
before I came to an opening. A kind Providence must
have guided my steps, for at the very first house I reached,
a pretty mare stood at the horse-rack saddled and bridled,
as if waiting for me. The house was in a grove by the
roadside. I found a hospitable reception, and was In
vited to breakfast. My night's work had made me raven
ous. My host was past military age, but he seemed dazed
at the prospect of falling into the hands of the enemy. I
learned from him that Sheridan's cavalry had advanced
nearly to his place the day before. We ate breakfast
almost In silence. At the table I found Sergeant Wil
kins, of the Black Walnut Troop, from Halifax County.

THE END IN SIGHT 423
He had been on " horse furlough." Confederate cavalry
men supplied their own horses, and his horse furlough
meant that his horse had broken down, that he had been
home to replace It, and that he was now returning to duty
with another beast. His mare was beautiful and fresh, —
the very animal that I needed. When I told him that I
must take his horse, he laughed, as if I were joking ; then
he positively refused; but finally, when I showed the
sign manual of Jefferson Davis, he yielded, very reluc
tantly. It was perhaps fortunate for Sergeant Wilkins
that he was obliged to go home again, for his cavalry
command was engaged heavily that day, and every day
thereafter, until the surrender at Appomattox.
On the morning of April 6, mounted upon as fine
a mare as there was in the Confederacy, I sallied forth
in search of General Lee. I started northward for the
Southside Railroad. It was not long before I heard can
non to the northeast. Thinking that the sounds came
from the enemy In the rear of Lee, I endeavored to bear
sufficiently westward to avoid the Union forces. Seeing
no sign of either army, I was going along leisurely, when
a noise behind me attracted my attention. Turning In
my saddle, I saw at a distance of several hundred yards
the head of a cavalry command coming from the east, and
turning out of a cross-road that I had passed into the
road that I was traveling. They saw me, and pretended
to give chase ; but their horses were jaded, and my mare
was fresh and swift. The few shots they fired went wide
of us, and I gaUoped out of range quickly and safely.
My filly, after her spin, was mettlesome, and as I held
her in hand, I chuckled to think how easy it was to keep
out of harm's way on such a beast.
But this was not to be my easy day. I was rapidly
approaching another road, which came Into my road from

424 THE END OF AN ERA
the east. I saw another column of Union cavalry filing
into my road, and going in the same direction that I
was going. Here was a pretty pickle ! We were In
the woods. Did they see me ? To be sure they did. Of
course they knew of the parallel column of their own
troops which I had passed, and I think they first mistook
me for a friend. But I could not ride forward : I should
have come upon the rear of their column. I could not
turn back : the cavalry force behind was not a quarter of
a mUe away. I stopped, thus disclosing who I was. Sev
eral of thera made a dart for me ; several more took shots
with their carbines ; and once more the little mare and I
were dashing off, this time through the woods to the west.
What a bird she was, that little mare ! At a low fence
in the woods she did not make a pause or blunder, but
cleared it without turning a hair. I resolved now to get
out of the way, for it was very evident that I was trying
to reach General Lee by riding across the advance col
umns of Sheridan, who was on Lee's flank. Going at a
merry pace, just when my heart was ceasing to jump and
I was congratulating myself upon a lucky escape, I was
" struck flat aback," as sailors say. From behind a large
oak a keen, racy-looking fellow stepped forth, and, level
ing his cavalry carbine, called " Halt ! " He was not ten
feet away.
Halt I did. It is all over now, thought I, for I did not
doubt that he was a Jesse scout. (That was the name
applied by us to Union scouts who disguised themselves
in our uniform.) He looked too neat and clean for one
of our men. The words " I surrender " were on ray lips,
when he asked, " Who are you ? " I had half a raind to
He about it, but I gave my true name and rank. " What
the devil are you doing here, then?" he exclaimed, his
whole manner changing. I told him. " If that is so,"

THE END IN SIGHT 425
said he, lowering his gun, to my great reUef, " I must
help to get you out. The Yankees are all around us.
Come on." He led the way rapidly to where his own
horse was tied behind some cedar bushes, and, mounting,
bade me foUow him. He knew the woods well. As we
rode along, I ventured to inquire who he was. " Curtis,"
said he, — " one of General Rooney Lee's scouts. I have
been hanging on the flank of this cavalry for several days.
They are evidently pushing for the High Bridge, to cut
the army off from crossing there."
After teUing him of my adventure, I added : " You
gave me a great fright. I thought you were a Yankee,
sure, and carae near telling you that I was one."
" It Is well you did not. I am taking no prisoners on
this trip," he rejoined, tapping the butt of his carbine
significantly. " There they go," said he, as we came to an opening
and saw the Union cavalry winding down a red-clay road
to the north of us, traveling parallel with our own route.
" We must hurry, or they 'U reach the Flat Creek ford
ahead of us. Fitz Lee is somewhere near here, and
there 'U be fun when he sees them. There are not many
of them, and they are pressing too far ahead of their
main column."
After a sharp ride through the forest, we came to a
wooded hill overlooking the ford of Flat Creek, a stream
which runs northward, entering the Apporaattox near
High Bridge.
" Wait here a moment," said Curtis. " Let rae ride
out and see if we are safe." Going on to a point where
he could reconnoitre, he turned back, rose in his stirrups,
waved his hand, and crying, " Come on, quick ! " galloped
down the hill to the ford.
I foUowed ; but he had not accurately calculated the

426 THE END OF AN ERA
distance. The head of the column of Union cavalry was
In sight when he beckoned to me and made his dash.
They saw him and started toward him. As I was con
siderably behind him, they were much nearer to me than
to him. He crossed safely ; but the stream was deep, and
by the tirae I was In the middle, my little mare doing her
best with the water up to her chest, the Yankees were in
easy range, making It uncomfortable for me. The bullets
were splashing in the water all around me. I threw my
self off the saddle, and, nestling close under the mare's
shoulder, I reached the other side unharmed. Curtis and
a number of pickets stationed at the ford stood by me
manfully. The road beyond the ford ran into a deep
gully and made a turn. Behind the protection of this
turn, Curtis and the pickets opened fire upon the advan
cing cavalry, and held them in check until I was safely
over. When my horse trotted up with rae, wet as a
drowned rat, it was time for us all to move on rapidly.
In the afternoon, I beard Fitz Lee pouring hot shot Into
that venturesome body of cavalry, and I was delighted
to learn afterward that he had given them severe pun
ishment. Curtis advised me to go to Farmville, where I would
be beyond the chance of encountering more Union cav
alry, and then to work eastward toward General Lee. I
had been upset by the morning's adventures, and I was
somewhat demoralized. About a mile frora FarraviUe, I
found myself to the west of a line of battle of infantry,
formed on a line running north and south, moving toward
the town. Not doubting they were Union troops, I gal
loped off again, and when I entered Farmville I did not
hesitate to Inform the commandant that the Yankees
were approaching. The news created quite a panic. Ar
tillery was put in position and preparations were made to

THE END IN SIGHT 427
resist, when it was discovered that the troops I had seen
were a reserve regiment of our own, falling back In line
of battle to a position near the town. I kept very quiet
when I heard men all about me swearing that any cow
ardly, panic-stricken fool who would set such a repoi-t
afloat ought to be lynched.
I had now very nearly joined our array, which was
coraing directly toward ine. Early in the afternoon, the
advance of our troops appeared. How they straggled,
and how demoralized they seemed ! Eastward, not far
from the Flat Creek ford, a heavy fire opened, and con
tinued for an hour or more. As I afterward learned,
Fitz Lee had collided with my cavalry friends of the
morning, and, seeing his advantage, had availed himself
of it by attacking them fiercely. To the north, about
four o'clock, a tremendous fire of artillery and musketry
began, and continued until dark. I was riding towards
this firing, with my back to Farmville. Very hea-vy
detonations of artillery were followed time and again by
crashes of musketry. It was the battle of Sailors' Creek,
the most important of those last struggles of which Grant
said, " There was as much gallantry displayed by some of
the Confederates in these little engagements as was dis
played at any time during the war, notwithstanding the
sad defeats of the past weeks." My father's command
was doing the best fighting of that day. When Ewell
and Custis Lee had been captured, when Pickett's divi
sion broke and fled, when Bushrod Johnson, his division
commander, left the field ingloriously, my fearless father,
bareheaded and desperate, led his brigade Into action at
Sailors' Creek, and, though completely surrounded, cut
his way out, and reached Farmville at daylight with the
fragments of his command.
It was long after nightfall when the firing ceased. We

428 THE END OF AN ERA
had not then learned the particulars, but it was easy to
see that the contest had gone against us. The enemy
had. In fact, at Sailors' Creek, stampeded the remnant of
Pickett's division, broken our lines, captured six general
officers, including Generals Ewell and Custis Lee, and
burned a large part of our wagon trains. As evening
came on, the road was filled with wagons, artillery, and
bodies of men, hurrying without organization and in a
state of panic toward Farmville. I met two general
officers, of high rank and great distinction, who seemed
utterly demoralized, and they declared that all was lost.
That portion of the army which was still unconquered was
faUing back with its face to the foe, and bivouacked with
Its right and left flanks resting upon the Appomattox
to cover the crossings to the north side, near Farmville.
Upon reaching our lines, I found the divisions of Field
and Malone presenting an unbroken and defiant front.
Passing from camp to carap in search of General Lee, I
encountered General Mahone, who told rae where to find
General Lee. He said that the eneray had "knocked hell
out of Pickett." " But," he added savagely, " my fellows
are aU right. We are just waiting for 'em." And so they
were. When the array surrendered, three days later, Ma
hone's division was in better fighting trim and surrendered
more muskets than any other division of Lee's army.
It was past midnight when I found General Lee. He
was In an open field north of Rice's Station and east of
the High Bridge. A camp-fire of fence-rails was burn
ing low. Golonel Charles Marshall sat in an ambulance,
with a lantern and a lap-desk. He was preparing orders
at the dictation of General Lee, who stood near, with
one hand resting on a wheel and one foot upon the end
of a log, watching intently the dying embers as he spoke
in a low tone to his amanuensis.

THE END IN SIGHT 429
Touching my cap as I rode up, I inquired, " General
Lee?" "Yes," he repHed quietly, and I dismounted and ex
plained my mission. He examined my autograph order
from Mr. Davis, and questioned me closely concerning
the route by which I had come. He seemed especially
interested in my report of the position of the enemy at
BurkevIUe and westward, to the south of his army.
Then, with a long sigh, he said : " I hardly think it Is
necessary to prepare written dispatches in reply. They
may be captured. The enemy's cavalry Is already flank
ing us to the south and west. You seem capable of bear
ing a verbal response. You may say to Mr. Davis that,
as he knows, my original purpose was to adhere to the
line of the Danville Road. I have been unable to do so,
and am now endeavoring to hold the Southside Road as
I retire in the direction of Lynchburg."
" Have you any objective point, general, — any place
where you contemplate making a stand ? " I ventured
timidly. " No," said he slowly and sadly, " no ; I shall have to
be governed by each day's developments." Then, with a
touch of resentment, and raising his voice, he added, " A
few more Sailors' Creeks and it will all be over — ended
— just as I have expected It would end from the first."
I was astonished at the frankness of this avowal to one
so insignificant as I. It made a deep and lasting impres
sion on me. It gave me an insight into the character of
General Lee which all the books ever written about him
could never give. It elevated him in my opinion more
than anything else he ever said or did. It revealed him
as a man who had sacrificed everything to perform a con
scientious duty against his judgraent. He had loved the
Union. He had believed secession was unnecessary ; he

430 THE END OF AN ERA
had looked upon it as hopeless f oUy. Yet at the call of
his State he had laid his life and fame and fortune at her
feet, and served her faithfuUy to the last.
After another pause, during which, although he spoke
not a word and gave not a sign, I could discern a great
struggle within him, he turned to me and said : " You
must be very tired, my son. You have had an exciting
day. Go rest yourself, and report to me at Farmville at
sunrise. I may determine to send a written dispatch."
The way in which he called rae " my son " made me feel
as If I would die for him.
Hesitating a moment, I Inquired, " General, can you
give me any tidings of my father?"
" Your father ? " he asked. " Who Is your father ? "
" General Wise."
" Ah ! " said he, with another pause. " No, no. At
nightf aU, his comraand was fighting obstinately at Sailors'
Creek, surrounded by the enemy. I have heard nothing
from them since. I fear they were captured, or — or —
worse." To these words, spoken with genuine sympathy,
he added : " Your father's command has borne itself
nobly throughout this retreat. You may well feel proud
of him and of it."
My father was not dead. At the very moment when
we were talking, he and the remnant of his brigade were
tramping across the High Bridge, feeling like -victors,
and he, bareheaded and with an old blanket pinned
around him, was chewing tobacco and cursing Bushrod
Johnson for running off and leaving hira to fight his own
way out.
I found a little pile of leaves in a pine thicket, and
lay down In the rear of Field's division for a nap. Fear
ing that somebody would steal my horse, I looped the
reins around my wrist, and the mare stood by my side.

THE END IN SIGHT 431
We were already good friends. Just before daylight, she
gave a snort and a jerk which nearly dislocated my arm,
and I awoke to find her alarmed at Field's division,
which was withdrawing silently and had come suddenly
upon her. Warned by this incident, I mounted, and
proceeded toward Farmville, to report, as directed, to
General Lee for further orders. North of the stream at
Farmville, in the forks of the road, was the house then
occupied by General Lee. On the bill behind the house,
to the left of the road, was a grove. Seeing troops In
this grove, I rode in, inquiring for General Lee's head
quarters. The troops were lying there more like dead
men than live ones. They did not move, and they had no
sentries out. The sun was shining upon them as they
slept. I did not recognize them. Dismounting, and
shaking an officer, I awoke him with difficulty. He
rolled over, sat up, and began rubbing his eyes, which
were bloodshot and showed great fatigue.
" Hello, John I " said he. " In the name of all that Is
wonderful, where did you come from ? " It was Lieu
tenant Edmund R. Bagwell, of the 46th. The men, a few
hundred in all, were the pitiful remnant of my father's
brigade. " Have you seen the old general ? " asked Ned. " He 's
over there. Oh, we have had a week of It ! Yes, this Is
all that is left of us. John, the old man will give you
thunder when he sees you. When we were coming on
last night In the dark, he said, ' Thank God, John Is out
of this ! ' Dick ? Why, Dick was captured yesterday
at Sailors' Creek. He was riding the general's old mare,
Maggie, and she squatted like a rabbit with hira when
the shells began to fly. She always had that trick. He
could not raake her go forward or backward. You ought
to have seen Dick belaboring her with his sword. But the

432 THE END OF AN ERA
Yanks got him ! " and Ned burst into a laugh as he led
me where my father was. Nearly sixty years old, he lay,
like a common soldier, sleeping on the ground among his
men. We aroused him, and when he saw me, he exclaimed :
" WeU, by great Jehoshaphat, what are you doing here ?
I thought you, at least, were safe." I hugged him, and
almost laughed and cried at the sight of him safe and
sound, for General Lee had made me very uneasy. I told
him why I was there.
" Where is General Lee ? " he asked earnestly, spring
ing to his feet. " I want to see him again. I saw him
this morning about daybreak. I had washed my face in
a mud-puddle, and the red mud was all over it and In
the roots of my hair. I looked like a Comanche Indian ;
and when I was telling him how we cut our way out last
night, he broke into a smile and said, ' General, go wash
your face ! ' " The Incident pleased him immensely, for
at the same time General Lee made him a division com
mander, — a promotion he had long deserved for gal
lantry. If not for military knowledge.
" No, Dick Is not captured. He got out, I 'm sure,"
said he, as we walked down the hiU together. " He was
separated from me when the enemy broke our line. He
was not riding Maggie. I lent her to Frank Johnson.
He was wounded, and, remembering his kindness to your
brother Jennings the day he was killed, I tried to save
the poor fellow, and told him to ride Maggie to the rear.
Dick was riding his black horse. I know it. When the
Yankees advanced, a flock of wild turkeys flushed before
thera and came sailing Into our lines. I saw Dick gallop
after a gobbler and shoot him and tie him to his saddle
bow. He was coming back toward us when the line
broke, and, mounted as he was, he has no doubt escaped,
but is cut off from us by the enemy.

THE END IN SIGHT 433
"Yes, the Yanks got the bay horse, and my servants
Joshua and Smith, and all ray baggage, overcoats, and
plunder. A private soldier pinned this blanket around
me last night, and I found this hat when I was coraing
off the field."
He laughed heartily at his own plight. I have never
since seen a catch-pin half so large as that with which his
blanket was gathered at the throat. As we passed down
tbe road to General Lee's headquarters, the roads and
the fields were fiUed with stragglers. They moved look
ing behind them, as if they expected to be attacked and
harried by a pursuing foe. Demoralization, panic, aban
donment of aU hope, appeared on every hand. Wagons
were rolling along without any order or system. Caissons
and limber-chests, without comraanding officers, seemed
to be floating aimlessly upon a tide of disorganization.
Rising to his full height, casting a glance around him
like that of an eagle, and sweeping the horizon with his
long arm and bony forefinger, my father exclaimed, " This
is the end ! " It Is impossible to convey an Idea of the
agony and the bitterness of his words and gestures.
We found General Lee on the rear portico of the house
that I have mentioned. He had washed his face in a tin
basin, and stood drying his beard with a coarse towel
as we approached. " General Lee," exclaimed my father,
" my poor, brave men are lying on yonder hill more dead
than alive. For more than a week they have been fight
ing day and night, without food, and, by God, sir, they
shall not move another step until somebody gives them
something to eat ! "
" Come in, general," said General Lee soothingly.
" They deserve soraething to eat, and shall have it ; and
meanwhile you shall share my breakfast." He disarmed
everything like defiance by his kindness.

434 THE END OF AN ERA
It was but a few moments, however, before my father
launched forth in a fresh denunciation of the conduct of
General Bushrod Johnson in the engagement of the 6th.
I am satisfied that General Lee felt as he did ; but, assum
ing an air of mock severity, he said, " General, are you
aware that you are liable to court-martial and execution
for insubordination and disrespect toward your command
ing officer ? "
My father looked at him with lifted eyebrows and
flashing eyes, and exclaimed : " Shot ! You can't afford to
shoot the men who fight for cursing those who run away.
Shot ! I wish you would shoot me. If you don't, some
Yankee probably will within the next twenty-four hours."
Growing more serious. General Lee inquired what he
thought of the situation.
" Situation ? " said the bold old man. " There is no
situation ! Nothing remains. General Lee, but to put
your poor men on your poor mules and send thera home
In time for spring ploughing. This array is hopelessly
whipped, and Is fast becoraing demoralized. These men
have already endured more than I believed flesh and
blood could stand, and I say to you, sir, emphatically,
that to prolong the struggle is murder, and the blood of
every man who Is killed from this time forth Is on your
head. General Lee." "'
This last expression seemed to cause General Lee great
pain. With a gesture of remonstrance, and even of im
patience, he protested : " Oh, general, do not talk so
wildly. My burdens are heavy enough. What would
the country think of me, if I did what you suggest ? "
" Country be d  d ! " was the quick reply. " There
is no country. There has been no country, general, for a
year or more. You are the country to these men. They
have fought for you. They have shivered through a long

THE END IN SIGHT 436
winter for you. Without pay or clothes, or care of any
sort, their devotion to you and faith In you have been the
only things which have held this array together. If you
demand the sacrifice, there are still left thousands of us
who win die for you. You know the game is desperate
beyond redemption, and that, if you so announce, no man
or government or people will gainsay your decision. That
Is why I repeat that the blood of any man killed hereafter
is upon your head."
General Lee stood for some time at an open window,
looking out at the throng now surging by upon the roads
and in the fields, and made no response. Then, turning
his attention to me, he said cheerfully that he was glad
my father's plight was not so bad as he had thought it
might be, at the tirae of our conversation the night be
fore. After a pause, he wrote upon a piece of paper a
few words to the effect that he had talked with me, and
that I would make a verbal report. If occasion arose, he
would give further advices. " This," said he, " you will
deliver to the President. I fear to write, lest you be cap
tured, for those people are already several miles above
Farmville. You must keep on the north side to a ford
eight railes above here, and be careful about crossing even
there." He always referred to the enemy as " those peo
ple." Then he bade me adieu, and asked my father to
come in and share his breakfast.
I hugged my father in the presence of General Lee,
and I saw a kindly look in his eyes as he watched us.
Remembering that my father had no horse, I said, " Take
my mare. I can easily get another."
" What ! " said he, laughing, " a dispatch-bearer giving
away his horse ! No, sir. That is too pretty a little ani
mal to make a present to a Yankee. I know they will
bag us all, horse, foot, and dragoons, before long. No.

436 THE END OF AN ERA
I can walk as weU as anybody. Have you any chewing
tobacco ? "
I was Immensely flattered at this request, and gave him
a plug of excellent tobacco. It was the first time that he
had recognized me as entitled to the possession of all the
" modern improvements " of a soldier.
And so I left them. As I rode along In search of the
ford to which General Lee had directed me, I felt that I
was In the midst of the wreck of that Immortal army
which, until now, I had believed to be invincible.

CHAPTER XXYI
THE END
Eight miles of brisk riding carried me beyond the flot
sam and jetsam of the Army of Northern Virginia. I was
alone In the meadows on the north of the Appomattox
River. The sun shone brightly, and under the wooded
bluffs upon the opposite bank of the narrow stream the
little vaUey up which my route led was warm and stiU.
The dogwood was beginning to bloom ; the grass near the
river banks was showing the first verdure of spring ; the
wiUows overhanging the stream were purpHng and swell
ing with buds. A cock grouse araong the laurels was
drumming to his mate, and more than once I heard the
gobble of the wild turkey. Behind me, in the distance,
were sounds of artillery ; from time to time, our guns
opened to hold the enemy in check, or he, pursuing,
availed himself of some eminence to shell our retreating
masses. In due season the designated ford was reached.
The little mare, her neck and flanks warm but not heated
with exercise, waded Into the stream up to her knees, and,
plunging her nose into the water, quenched her thirst. A
gray squirrel, startled from a hickory near the ford, ran
out upon a limb, swung himself to another tree, and
scampered away through the sunlight and the shadows to
gain his castle in the hollow oak upon the hillside. In a
neighboring cedar, a redbird (cardinal grosbeak), warmed
by the sunlight, uttered the soft call with which he wooes
his mate in springtime.

438 THE END OF AN ERA
How peaceful, how secluded, how inviting to repose,
seemed this sheltered nook ! It was hard to realize what
a seething caldron of human life and human passion was
boiling so near at hand. I needed rest. It was Friday,
and since I left Clover Station, Wednesday night, I had
slept but three hours. Oh, the heartache of those last
eight miles of travel, with time to reflect In solitude upon
what I had seen ! The hopeless, quiet dignity of Gen
eral Lee, the Impassioned desperation of my father, were
present like a nightmare. The shattered idols of boyish
dreams lay strewn about me on the road along which I
had been traveling. I had seen coraraands scattered and
blasted which, until now, had represented victory or un
broken defiance. I had beheld officers who, until yester
day, had irapersonated to my youthful ardor nothing but
gallantry, demoralized, separated from their commands,
and with all stomach gone for further fighting. Ever and
again, my thoughts went back to the brave troops through
whose ranks I had ridden the night previous in search of
General Lee ; and then my pride rose afresh. Yet in my
heart I knew that they were but a handful to resist the
armies of Grant ; that the Army of Northern Virginia was
a thing of the past ; that its surrender was only a question
of a few days at furthest; and that the war was virtually
ended. Then would come the sickening thought, so elo
quently expressed by my father, that every man thence
forth killed was a noble life literally thrown away. And,
knowing my father as I did, I felt that it was more than
likely he would be one of those to fall ; for his counsel
was not the counsel of a coward. His courage and spirit
of defiance were still unbroken. His proudest testimo
nial is that recorded concerning his conduct on the retreat
by Fitzhugh Lee, who In describing it declared that,
until the order of surrender went forth at Appomattox,

THE END 439
he fought with the fervor of youth, and exposed himself
as unhesitatingly as when he was f uU of hope at the open
ing of the war.
Alone, torn by these bitter thoughts, patriotic and per
sonal, exhausted by two days and nights of excitement
and fatigue, and contemplating with no pleasant anticipa
tions seventy miles of hard riding before me, I gathered
my reins, touched the flank of my horse, and resumed
my journey. The country south of the Appomattox was
wooded and somewhat broken. The roads led between
" hogback " hills, as they are caUed. I drew out my
brierwood pipe and consoled myself with a smoke ; for
among my other military accomplishments I had acquired
the habit of smoking.
I was taking it easily, and was riding " woman fashion,"
to rest myself in the saddle. The mare moved quietly
forward at a fox trot. I felt sure I was well ahead of the
flanking column of the enemy. Of a sudden my ear
caught the sound of a human voice. It was distant, — a
singsong note, resembling the woodland " halloo " we often
hear.' For a moment I thought it might be the voice of
a darkey singing as he drove his team along. But it
ceased, and in Its place I heard, in a direction which I
could not determine, sounds like falling rain, with heavy
drops distinctly audible in the downpour. I recognized
the sound.
When we were studying Virgil, our tutor delighted to
take up those lines of the jEneid wherein the poet de
scribes the footfall of many horses as the cavalry ap
proaches : — " It clamor, et agmine facto
Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum."
After reading them he would look around and ask, " Eh ?
don't you hear the very sound of the horses' feet in the

440 THE END OF AN ERA
words ? " WeU, of course we did not, and Parson Dudley
thought we were trifling young cubs not to see the beauty
of Virgil's verbal horseplay. Still, the words stuck, and
I often repeated them afterward. Now, who would have
imagined that the little Latin I had acquired, partly a
priori and partly a posteriori, would one day serve to aid
in escaping capture ? I listened. I repeated : " Quad-
rupe — dantepu — tremsoni — tuquatit — ungula — cam
pum." I said to myself: "That sound Is the sound of
cavalry. That voice was the voice of command. Which
way shaU I go ? "
" Plague take you, be quiet ! " I said to the mare, slap
ping her Impatiently on the neck ; for at that moment she
lifted her head, pointed her ears, and, raising her ribs,
gave a loud whinny. By good luck, almost at the same
Instant the sound of clashing cymbals and the music of a
mounted band carae through the forest. The hostile forces
were but a few hundred yards away. As I soon learned,
they were moving on a road leading to the ford, but enter
ing the road that I was traveling just beyond the spot
where I first heard them. The bill on my left ran down
to a point where the advancing column was coming Into
the road on which I was. The summit of the hiU was
covered by a thick growth of laurel and pine. I sprang
from the saddle, led the mare up the hillside, tied her,
and, reflecting that she might whinny again, left her, ran
along the hill-crest as near to the eneray as I dared go,
lay down behind an old log, covered myself with leaves
and bushes, and was within a hundred yards of the spot
which the enemy passed. I could see them from behind
the end of my log.
" Hurrah ! hurrah ! " they shouted, as the band played
" Johnny Comes Marching Home." They were elated and
full of enthusiasm, for the Johnnies were on the run, and

THE END 441
the pursuit was now little more than a foot-race. The
band struck up " Captain Jenks of the Horse Marines."
as they swept on to the ford, walking, trotting, ambling,
pacing, their guidons fluttering In the spring breeze.
" Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! " How different was the
cheering from the wild yeU to which I was accustoraed !
I lay there, with my pistol in my hand, watching them,
really interested in contrasting their good equipment and
their ardor with the wretched scenes that I had left be
hind. A wild turkey hen, startled from her nest near the
roadside, came flying directly up the hill, alighted on the
further side of the log behind which I was lying, and,
squatting low, ran within three feet of my nose. Peering
into my face with frightened eyes, she gave a " put ! " of
amazement and sheered off. I convulsively clutched my
pistol to shoot her. Np, I did not shoot. I had reasons
for not shooting. But I ara sure this was the only wild
turkey that ever carae within range of my weapon with
out receiving a salute.
The cavalcade swept by, and did not suspect my pre
sence. When all was still again, hurrying back to the
filly, I mounted, rode down to the forks of the road, took
the one that led westward, and galloped away. I felt
sure, from the rapidity with which I had traveled, that
this must be the advance of the enemy, and I resolved to
take no further risks. I was right, for I saw no more
Union troops. Late that afternoon, in Charlotte County,
I passed the plantation of Roanoke, once the home of
John Randolph. It looked desolate and overgrown.
" Oh, John Randolph, John, John ! " thought I, as I
rode by, " you have gotten sorae other Johns, In fact the
whole breed of Johnnies, into a peck of trouble by the
governmental notions which you left to them as a legacy.
By the way, John," changing into a merrier vein, " I wish

442 THE END OF AN ERA
some of those thoroughbreds you once owned were still in
your stables ; my gallant animal is nearly done for by the
raurderous pace of the last six hours." Neither the spirit
nor the horses of John Randolph responded, either to
maintain his principles, or to supply me a fresh mount
from the skeleton stables, and I rode on.
I reached the Episcopal rectory at Halifax Court House
after midnight. My brother Henry was the minister.
He was a glorious feUow, who. If he had not been a
preacher, would have made a dashing soldier. I ham
mered upon the door, and he carae down. I was now only
twenty miles west of my post at Clover Station. I had
visited him several times while I was quartered there, but
since the evacuation of Richmond he had heard nothing
from any of us, although he had made raany inquiries, for
me particularly.
When I told him of my last three adventures, he looked
me over, and, seeing how red my eyes were, said that he
was afraid I was drunk. " Not much," I replied ; " but
if you have anything to eat and to drink, get It out
quickly, for I am nearly famished. You may think I am
drunk, Henry, but come out and look at the mare. Prob
ably you wIU think she has the delirium tremens." He
was soon dressed, and we went out to minister to the
faithful brute.
She stood with head hung low, her red nostrils distend
ing and contracting, her sides heaving, her knees trem
bling, her flanks roweled and red, the sweat dripping from
her wet body. Poor little Tulip (that was her name), I
had not done it wantonly. I was performing a duty of
life and death.
" You cannot ride her to Danville," said Henry, who
was a good horseman.
" No, of course not. I came after your bay horse."

THE END 443
Henry loved his mare, and under other circumstances
he would not have listened to such a proposition ; but
patriotism overcame him, and he simply answered, with
a sigh, "Very weU."
I count it a creditable episode In my life that I took
off my coat, tired as I was, and gave Tulip a good rubbing
down, and fed her and bedded her, bless her game heart !
" You cannot go forward at once," Henry urged, when
we returned to the house. He started a fire in the dining-
room, and placed an abundance of cold victuals and drink
upon the table, and his pretty young wife entered to hear
tbe war news.
" WeU, I thought I might, but blamed if I don't be
lieve I 'ra forced to take a rest," I replied. " Will you
have your mare saddled and rae waked at daybreak ? "
It was so arranged, and, after I had eaten like a glut
ton, I lit a pipe and tried to stay awake to answer Hen
ry's eager questions ; but I fell asleep In the chair, and
the next I knew he was leading me by the arm up to a
large bedroora, the like of which I had not seen for many
a day. Tumbling into bed, I knew no more until he
roused me at daybreak, fed me, put me on his mare, and
said a " God bless you ! " I went off sore and reluctant,
but soon limbered up and grew willing, as his horse,
fresh and almost as good as TuHp, strode gaUantly on
to Danville.
" Man never Is, but always to be blest." I was en-v^-
Ing preachers, and thinking what a good time Henry was
having ; and he, poor fellew, had spent the night striding
up and down the floor, bemoaning the hard fate which
had made him a non-combatant.
It was about eight o'clock in the evening of Saturday,
April 8, 1865, when the hoofs of my horse resounded on
the bridge which spans the Roanoke at Danville. I do

444 THE END OF AN ERA
not recall the exact distance traversed that day, but it
was enough for man and beast. I had a good, comfort
able ride. Henry had fiUed my saddle-pockets with ex
ceUent food, and two flasks of coffee made by him, while
I slept, from a precious remnant that he had preserved
for the sick of his congregation. He was a prince of
hospitality and comraon sense. He had liquor, and was
no blue-nose ; but he said that he would give rae none,
for the double reason that I seemed to like it too well,
and that, in case of protracted effort, it was not so relia
ble a stimulant as coffee.
The lights of Danville were a welcome sight. The town
was crowded with people, the result of the recent influx
from Richmond. Riding up Main Street to the princi
pal hotel, I learned that President Davis was domiciled
at the home of Major Sutherlln, and thither I directed
my course. The house stands upon Main Street, near
the crest of a steep hill. As I approached, I saw that it
was briUiantly illuminated. A sentry at the yard gate
chaUenged me. I announced my name, rank, and mis
sion, and was admitted. At the door, a colored man,
whom I recognized as the body servant of the President,
received me. In a few moraents. Burton Harrison ap
peared, giving me a kindly greeting, and saying that the
President and his Cabinet were then holding a session
in the dining-room, and desired me to enter and make
my report. I laughed, drew forth the short note of Gen
eral Lee to the President, and remarked that my dis
patches were for the most part oral.
I felt rather embarrassed by such a distinguished
audience, but Mr. Davis soon put me at ease. In bis
book he mentions my coming, but, after the long Interval
between 1865 and the time at which it was written, he
had forgotten, if Indeed he ever knew, that I had been

THE END 445
sent by him to General Lee. Probably he never learned
what name General Walker inserted in the blank order
sent, when he requested the detail of an officer to commu
nicate with General Lee. At any rate, I was the first
person who had brought him any direct news from Gen
eral Lee since his departure from Richmond.
Those present, as I remember them, were, besides the
President and Burton Harrison, Mr. Benjamin, General
Breckinridge, Secretary MaUory, Secretary Reagan, per
haps General Bragg, and several others whora I did not
know, or do not recall. They sat around a large dinlng-
table, and I stood at the end opposite Mr. Davis. He
was exceedingly considerate, requested me to make my
report, which I did as briefly as possible, and then asked
me a number of questions. When he had done examin
ing me, several others of the party made inquiries. One
thing I remember vividly. Somebody inquired how
many efficient troops I thought General Lee had left.
I was prepared for this question to the extent of having
tried to conjecture. In doing so, I had assumed that at
the time he started from Petersburg he had nearly one
hundred thousand men. That was the popular impres
sion. With this In my mind as a basic figure, I believed
that his array had dwindled to one third of its number
when it left Petersburg ; and so I ventured the opinion
that he might still have thirty thousand effective men,
although I was cautious enough to add that Mahone's
and Field's divisions were the only two that I had seen
which seeraed to be Intact and to have preserved their
organization. When I said thirty thousand, I thought I
detected a smile of sad Incredulity on several faces ; and
I have often wondered since how much that statement
detracted from the weight attached to my report in other
respects.

446 THE END OF AN ERA
One question I answered as I felt. " Do you think
General Lee wUl be able to reach a point of safety with
his army ? "
" I regret to say, no. From what I saw and heard, I
am satisfied that General Lee must surrender. It may
be that he has done so to-day. In my opinion, Mr. Presi
dent, it is only a question of a few days at furthest, and,
if I may be permitted to add a word, I think the sooner
the better ; for, after seeing what I have seen of the two
arraies, I believe the result is Inevitable, and postponing
the day means only the useless effusion of noble, gaUant
blood." I am sure none of thera had heard such a plain state
ment of this unwelcome truth before. I remember the
expression of face — almost a shudder — with which
what I said was received. I saw that, however convinced
they might be of the truth of it, it was not a popular
speech to raake.
Mr. Da-vis asked me to remain. He said that he wished
to talk with me further. While I was waiting for him
in the hallway. Major Sutherlln, who had known me
from childhood, beckoned to me and asked, " Are n't you
hungry after your ride ? "
I grinned. I was always hungry then.
" Jim," quoth the major, " see if you can't get some
thing for the lieutenant to eat."
Jim went out, but in a few minutes returned, and, bow
ing, invited me into a butler's pantry. He apologized for
the place, and explained that the house was so crowded
he had nowhere else to spread the repast. He had pro
vided milk, corn-coffee, butter and rolls, and cold turkey.
I said, " Jim, shut up. You know I am not used to as
good as this." With that I tossed off a glass of milk,
swallowed a cup of coffee, and, opening my haversack,

THE END 447
tumbled the butter and roUs and turkey-legs Into It, and
buttoned It up. Jim stood there, highly amused at the
short shrift I made of his feast, and remarked, " You 's a
fust-class forager, ain't you, lieutenant?" "Yes," I re
sponded. " You must keep fire in the box, Jim, if you
want the engine to run. Now I 'm ready for the Presi
dent." I slipped back Into the haUway, and sat down to wait
until the President should call me. In a little while the
conference broke up, and he came to the door. " Now,
lieutenant, I 'U see you," and he led the way into the
drawing-room ; there we had a long talk, I going more
into details.
At the close of our conversation, he sat for sorae time
peering into the gloom outside, and finally broke the
silence by saying, " You seem to know the roads. Do
you feel equal to another trip ? "
" Assuredly," I answered. " I now have a relay of
horses, and am more than glad to serve in any way I
can." " Very well," said he. " Leave your horse In Major
Sutherlln's stable, so that it will be weU fed, and report
for orders to-morrow morning at eight o'clock."
I took the mare to the stable. It looked so inviting
that I clambered up a ladder to the loft, opened my
haversack, enjoyed Major Sutherlin's food, placed sorae
hay under me and drew some over me, and had a glori
ous night's rest.
When I reported next morning, the President did not
ask at what hotel I was stopping. I received my return
dispatches, and I set forth to rejoin General Lee. Appre
hending the probability of my capture, Mr. Davis gave
me a brief letter of credentials, and said that I would
explain his wishes.

448 THE END OF AN ERA
Upon the same day that General Lee surrendered at
Apporaattox (April 9), I reached Halifax Court House
on the return trip. My brother Richard was there, with
his own horse and the horse that my father had lent the
wounded man. They had been cut off at Sailors' Creek
and forced southward. The enemy, flanking General Lee,
had advanced by moving at least ten miles beyond Sailors'
Creek, thus rendering it impossible for them to rejoin
General Lee except by going through the Union lines.
My brother was greatly perplexed concerning the course
he should pursue, and after we had discussed the matter,
he resolved to leave one of the horses and to go back
with me. Monday morning we resumed the journey;
and that afternoon we met the first of our men, who,
paroled at Appomattox the day before, were mournfully
wending their way homeward.
Upon hearing of the surrender, we turned 'back toward
DanviUe to report to President Davis the failure of my mis
sion. On arriving there, we learned that he had left the
place, and gone to Greensboro, North Carolina. From
the paroled men we met, we ascertained that our father
was safe. We resolved to join Johnston's army. After
leaving Danville, two days' ride brought us to Greens
boro, and there we found Johnston's forces. We reported
to Major-General Carter Stevenson, commanding a divi
sion of infantry. General Stevenson was a Virginian,
one of the few In that array. A cousin of ours was on
his staff. The army was bivouacked In and about the
town of Greensboro, awaiting the result of negotiations
for Its surrender. Men and officers alike understood this,
and there was a general relaxation of discipline.
We were among the first to arrive from Lee's army.
General Stevenson gave us a cordial welcome. We told
him we had not been captured, and had come to serve

THE END 449
under him. He asked us what we wished to do. We re
plied that we were ready to serve in any capacity in which
we could be useful ; I added facetiously that I was not
much of a lieutenant anyhow, and none too good for a
private. On our way, we had seriously discussed the for
mation of a command composed of officers of Lee's array
who had escaped from the surrender. Inviting us to
make his headquarters our horae until something definite
was concluded. General Stevenson said, with a smile, that
he feared we had jumped out of the frying-pan Into the
fire, and that Sherman and Johnston were already confer
ring about a cessation of hostilities. I must describe one
of the conferences as General Johnston hiraself narrated
it many years afterward.
One cold winter night about 1880, Captain Edwin
Harvie, of General Johnston's staff, invited me to join
him In a call upon the general, who was then living in
Richmond. Harvie was one of his pets, and we were
promptly admitted to his presence. He sat In an arm
chair in his library, dressed In a flannel wrapper, and was
suffering from an influenza. By his side, upon a low
stool, stood a tray with whiskey, glasses, spoons, sugar,
lemon, spice, and eggs. At the grate a footman held a
brass teakettle of boiling water. Mrs. Johnston was pre
paring hot Tom-and-Jerry for the old gentleraan, and he
took it from time to time with no sign of objection or
resistance. It was snowing outside, and the scene within
was very cosy. As I had seen him in public. General
Johnston was a stiff, uncommunicative man, punctilious
and peppery, as little fellows like him are apt to be. He
reminded me of a cock sparrow, full of self-consciousness,
and rather enjoying a peck at his neighbor.
That night he was as warm, comfortable, and commu
nicative as the kettle singing on the hob. He had been

450 THE END OF AN ERA
lonesome, and he greatly enjoyed both the Tom-and-
Jerry and the visitors. Harvie knew how to draw him
out on reminiscences, and we spent a most delightful
evening. Among other things, he told us an episode of
the surrender, under promise that we should not publish
it until after his death.
Johnston had known Sherman well in the United States
army. Their first interview near Greensboro resulted in
an engagement to meet for further discussion the follow
ing day. As they were parting, Johnston remarked : " By
the way, Cumps, Breckinridge, our Secretary of War, Is
with me. He is a very able fellow, and a better lawyer
than any of us. If there is no objection, I will fetch him
along to-morrow."
Bristling up. General Sherman exclairaed, " Secretary
of War ! No, no ; we don't recognize any civil govern
ment among you feUows, Joe. No, I don't want any
Secretary of War."
" Well," said General Johnston, " he is also a major-
general in the Confederate army. Is there any objection
to his presence in the capacity of major-general ? "
" Oh ! " quoth Sherman, in his characteristic way,
" major-general ! Well, any major-general you may bring,
I shaU be glad to meet. But recollect, Johnston, no Sec
retary of War. Do you understand ? "
The next day. General Johnston, accompanied by
Major-General Breckinridge and others, was at the ren
dezvous before Sherman.
" You know how fond of his liquor Breckinridge was ? "
added General Johnston, as he went on with his story.
" WeU, nearly everything to drink had been absorbed.
For several days, Breckinridge had found it difficult, if
not impossible, to procure liquor. He showed the effect
of his enforced abstinence. He was rather dull and

THE END 451
heavy that morning. Somebody In Danville had given
him a plug of very fine chewing tobacco, and he chewed
vigorously while we were awaiting Sherman's coming.
After a while, the latter arrived. He bustled In with a
pair of saddlebags over his arm, and apologized for being
late. He placed the saddlebags carefully upon a chair.
Introductions followed, and for a while General Sherman
made himself exceedingly agreeable. Finally, some one
suggested that we had better take up the matter in hand.
" ' Yes,' said Sherman ; ' but, gentlemen, it occurred
to me that perhaps you were not overstocked with liquor,
and I procured some medical stores on my way over.
Will you join me before we begin work ? ' "
General Johnston said he watched the expression of
Breckinridge at this announcement, and it was beatific.
Tossing his quid into the fire, he rinsed his mouth, and
when the bottle and the glass were passed to him, he
poured out a tremendous drink, which he swaUowed with
great satisfaction. With an air of content, he stroked his
mustache and took a fresh chew of tobacco.
Then they settled down to business, and Breckinridge
never shone more brilliantly than he did In the discus
sions which followed. He seemed to have at his tongue's
end every rule and maxim of international and constitu
tional law, and of the laws of war, — international wars,
civil wars, and wars of rebellion. In fact, he was so re
sourceful, cogent, persuasive, learned, that, at one stage
of the proceedings. General Sherman, when confronted
by the authority, but not convinced by the eloquence
or learning of Breckinridge, pushed back his chair and
exclaimed : " See here, gentlemen, who is doing this sur
rendering anyhow ? If this thing goes on, you 'U have
me sending a letter of apology to Jeff Davis."
Afterward, when they were nearing the close of the

452 THE END OF AN ERA
conference, Sherman sat for some time absorbed in deep
thought. Then he arose, went to the saddlebags, and
fumbled for the bottle. Breckinridge saw the movement.
Again he took his quid from his mouth and tossed it into
the fireplace. His eye brightened, and he gave every
evidence of intense interest in what Sherman seemed
about to do.
The latter, preoccupied, perhaps unconscious of his
action, poured out some liquor, shoved the bottle back
Into the saddle-pocket, walked to the window, and stood
there, looking out abstractedly, while he sipped his grog.
From pleasant hope and expectation the expression on
Breckinridge's face changed successively to uncertainty,
disgust, and deep depression. At last his hand sought
the plug of tobacco, and, with an Injured, sorrowful look,
he cut off another chew. Upon this he ruminated during
the remainder of the Interview, taking little part In what
was said.
After silent reflections at the window. General Sher
man bustled back, gathered up his papers, and said:
" These terms are too generous, but I must hurry away
before you make me sign a capitulation. I will 'submit
them to the authorities at Washington, and let you hear
how they are received." With that he bade the assem
bled officers adieu, took his saddlebags upon his arm, and
went off as he had come.
General Johnston took occasion, as they left the house
and were drawing on their gloves, to ask General Breck
inridge how he had been impressed by Sherman.
" Sherman is a bright man, and a man of great force,"
replied Breckinridge, speaking with deliberation, " but,"
raising his voice and with a look of great Intensity, " Gen
eral Johnston, General Sherman Is a hog. Yes, sir, a
hog. Did you see him take that drink by himself ? "

THE END 453
General Johnston tried to assure General Breckinridge
that General Sherman was a royal good fellow, but the
most absent-minded man In the world. He told him that
the faUure to offer him a drink was the highest compli
ment that could have been paid to the masterly arguments
with which he had pressed the Union commander to that
state of abstraction.
"Ah!" protested the big Kentuckian, half sighing,
half grieving, " no Kentucky gentleman would ever have
taken away that bottle. He knew we needed it, and
needed it badly."
The story was well told, and I did not make It public
until after General Johnston's death. On one occasion,
being Intimate with General Sherman, I repeated it to
him. Laughing heartily, he said: "I don't remember
it. But if Joe Johnston told it, it 's so. Those fellows
hustled me so that day, I was sorry for the drink I did
give them," and with that saUy he broke out into fresh
laughter. While these scenes were being enacted, Johnston's army
lay about Greensboro, and I saw a great deal of the men
and the officers. I wiU not attempt a comparison between
Its personnel and that of Lee's army. I was a prejudiced
observer, and such comparisons can produce no good
results. But I am free to say, from what I saw, then and
thereafter, of Sherman's army, that I believe it was a
better army than that of General Grant. If Lee's army
and Sherman's had come together when they were at their
best, the world would have witnessed some very memo
rable fighting. The spirit of General Johnston's men was
much finer than, under the circumstances, anybody would
have expected. They were defiant, and more than ready
to try conclusions with Sherman in a pitched battle.
Many expressed disgust and indignation when the sur-

464 THE END OF AN ERA
render of the army was announced. An epidemic of
drunkenness, gambling, and fighting prevailed while we
were waiting for our final orders. Whatever difficulty
General Breckinridge may have experienced in procuring
liquor, the soldiers seemed to have an abundance of color
less corn-whiskey and applejack, and the roadsides were
lined with " chuck-a-luck " games. The amount of Con
federate raoney displayed was marvelous. Men had it
by the haversackful, and bet It recklessly upon anything.
The iU-temper begotten by drinking and gambling mani
fested itself almost hourly in free fights.
During this period of waiting came the news of the
assassination of Mr. Lincoln. Perhaps I ought to chroni
cle that the announcement was received with demonstra
tions of sorrow. If I did, I should be lying for senti
ment's sake. Among the higher officers and the most
intelligent and conservative men, the assassination caused
a shudder of horror at the heinousness of the act, and at
the thought of its possible consequences ; but among the
thoughtless, the desperate, and the ignorant. It was hailed
as a sort of retributive justice. In maturer years I have
been asharaed of what I felt and said when I heard of
that awful calaralty. However, men ought to be judged
for their feelings and their speech by the circurastances
of their surroundings. For four years we had been fight
ing. In that struggle, all we loved had been lost. Lin
coln incarnated to us the idea of oppression and conquest.
We had seen his face over the coffins of our brothers and
relatives and friends. In the flames of Richmond, in the
disaster at Appomattox. In blood and flame and torture
the temples of our lives were tumbling about our heads.
We were desperate and vindictive, and whosoever denies
it forgets or is false. We greeted his death in a spirit of
reckless hate, and hailed it as bringing agony and bitter-

THE END 465
ness to those who were the cause of our own agony and
bitterness. To us, Lincoln was an inhuman monster.
Grant a butcher, and Sherman a fiend.
Time taught us that Lincoln was a man of marvelous
humanity, Appomattox and what foUowed revealed Grant
in his matchless magnanimity, and the bitterness toward
Sherman was softened in subsequent years. But, with our
feelings then, if the news had come that all three of these
had been engulfed In a comraon disaster with ourselves,
we should have felt satisfaction In the fact, and should
not have questioned too closely how it had been brought
about. We were poor, starved, conquered, despairing;
and to expect raen to have no malice and no vindlctive-
ness at such a time Is to look for angels in human form.
Thank God, such feelings do not last long, at least In
their fiercest Intensity.
The army moved westward to a place named Jimtown,
since dignified as Jaraestown. There we were all paroled.
We received one dollar and fifteen cents each. Of this,
one dollar was in Mexican coin. I cut my Initials upon
my doUar, but it was stolen from my pocket the next day.
We were ready to disperse to our homes. Our headquar
ters were in a tent.
That night we had our last army fright. By some
means, a rumor had become prevalent that certain officers
had distributed among themselves bolts of valuable cloth
far beyond their own needs, leaving the soldiers ragged.
The men formed bands, declaring they would ransack the
officers' wagons and have this cloth. A friendly fellow
brought us the news that one of these parties was ap
proaching to search General Stevenson's headquarters
wagon. Major Reeve, of the staff, Indignant at such an
accusation, but more indignant at the proposed Insult to
his commanding officer, swore he would die rather than

456 THE END OF AN ERA
submit to such Ignominy. He called upon us to defend
our manhood. Of course we were ready. Armed only
with our swords and revolvers, we were deployed by him
behind trees. It was moonlight. We could see the raid
ers coming through the woods. When within thirty yards.
they halted. Major Reeve, who was as gallant as he was
impetuous, challenged, and asked what they wanted. A
leader replied. " Are you men soldiers of Stevenson's
division ? " inquired Reeve. On learning that they were,
he proceeded to deliver an address which, for eloquence,
pathos, and defiance, was as fine as anything I ever
heard. He reproached them for thinking for an instant that
such a base rumor could be true. He reminded them of
the days when he had led thera, and they were touched
by his references to their common struggles and common
sufferings. He asked them what General Stevenson or
any of his staff had ever done to deserve this distrust or
justify this degrading search. Finally, he told them that if
they still persisted, but one course was left to us, and that
was to die at the hands of our own men rather than sub
mit tamely to such dishonor. We who were deployed
behind the trees felt that we were in a ticklish place.
Reeve was exalted by his own oratory. We were trying
to count the number of our assailants. For a moment
after he finished speaking there was a dead silence, a very
awkward silence. Then a voice shouted, " Three cheers
for Major Reeve ! " They were given with a hearty good
will, followed by cheers for everybody. The marauders
broke, crowded around Reeve, and hugged and wept over
him, and we sneaked back to the tent, much relieved that
this particular phase of the war was over.
The next day, the Army of the Tennessee dissolved. To
every point of the compass its officers and men dispersed.

THE END 457
Our course was directed to Danville. We did not en
counter any Union forces until we approached that place.
Then we saw moun'ted Union pickets outlined against the
sky, at the top of the hill. They looked just as we had
often seen them before. It was hard to realize that they
would not fire upon us, and gallop away to give the alarm.
It was equally hard to realize that we soon should pass
them and be within the Union lines. In we went, giving
and receiving salutes. For the first time, we were In the
midst of a body of Union soldiers. What we felt then is
not important.
A week later, having been to Halifax to return to her
owner the finest mare I ever bestrode, I boarded a train
for Richmond, the brass buttons on my uniform covered
with black, a fit badge of mourning for the dead Confed
eracy. The cars were crowded with Union soldiers and
negroes flocking to the towns. The bearing of the Union
officers and soldiers toward Confederates was, with few
exceptions, extremely civil and conciliatory. One fellow
was so kimf that, after he had offered me money, which I
refused, he slipped it Into my pocket with a card saying,
" This Is not a gift, but a loan, and when you are able
you can return It to me." I did subsequently return It,
but never forgot his delicate attention.
The brlds-es across the Jaraes at Richmond had all been
destroyed. Our train stopped at Manchester, opposite
Richmond. Thence we were compeUed to proceed to the
city by way of a pontoon bridge thrown across the river
at the lower end of Mayo's Island. At the Manchester
terminus, we found a number of Improvised vehicles, —
wagons, ambulances, etc., — with improvised drivers, too,
seeking passengers to carry over the bridge. These driv
ers were in many instances my old army comrades. One
of them was Colonel George  , a former schoolmate.

458 THE END OF AN ERA
not five years older than myself, a man of the highest so
cial standing, a young soldier of distinguished gaUantry,
who a raonth before had commanded one of the best regi
ments in Lee's army. It was pathetic, the sight of those
army boys, with their war-horses converted into teams,
trying to earn an honest penny to feed the folks at home.
I saw George stand at the rear of the ambulance tbat
be drove, open the door, collect the fares from the sleek
Union commissaries and quartermasters who patronized
him, mount his box, and drive away as humbly as if that
business had been, and was to be, his lifelong occupation.
It was fortunate for our boys that the negroes, who
until now had done this class of work, were so elated by
their freedom that they had performed no sort of labor
since the evacuation. They had thronged the city, but
not for work. The weather was warm, and they were
living In all kinds of makeshift habitations, ofttlraes in
the ruins of burned buildings, procuring food from the
Freedmen's Bureau, and spending their time In the Capi
tol Square, where the older ones shouted and sang for
hours, and the children played at games.
I was too poor to Indulge In the luxury of a ride, and
young and strong enough to walk to town. Slinging our
knapsacks, a party of us walked across the pontoon, lift
ing our eyes frora time to time to the grinning ruins before
us. It was past noon ; the day was warm, and the sun
was bright. It revealed, without concealing anything
from us, the complete destruction of the business portion
of the town. Through these ruins we wended our way.
The hand of reconstruction was already stretched forth.
Men were engaged in puUing down waUs and cleaning
bricks. Already mortar beds had been built in the
streets, puddlers were at work, and, where work had pro
gressed far enough, foundations were being laid anew.

THE END 459
The streets were already burdened with lumber for joists
and woodwork, and every evidence was given of a rebuild
ing of the town. Nearly all the laborers were white men.
Many of them I knew well, — • men of as good social posi
tion as my own ; soldiers come home and resolved not to
be idle, but to work for an honest living in any way In
which they could make it. Sitting in the sun with their
trowels, jabbing away in awkward fashion at their new
and unaccustomed tasks, covered with dust and plaster,
they were the same bright, cheerful fellows who had
learned to labor in that state of life to which It had
pleased God to call them, just as they had been willing
foUowers, in sunshine and in storm, of their beloved Lee.
At night, with their day's wages in their pockets, they
would go home, change their clothing, take a bath, and
associate with their families, — not at all ashamed of their
labors, but making a joke of their newly discovered
method of earning a sustenance. With all the hardship
of such unaccustomed work, it was the best and most
comfortable and least dangerous employment that they
had been engaged In for years. Richmond rose from her
ashes, and soon becarae, in great part by their efforts, a
more beautiful city than ever before.
Passing through the business portion of the town, we
reached the residential section, which was still Intact.
The trees were in full leaf. They cast their deep shadows
everywhere, and a Sabbath stiUness pervaded the streets,
strangely in contrast with the air of busy life always pre
sented when Richmond was the crowded and beleaguered
capital. Few men and no women were upon the streets.
Business had not been resumed, and the presence of
Union soldiers and great numbers of negroes made women
cautious about venturing forth unattended.
I had no home. The nearest approach to one was that

460 THE END OF AN ERA
of my brother-in-law. Dr. Garnett. There my mother
and an unmarried sister were, and thither I repaired.
My father, as I learned, had not returned to Richmond.
Eliza, our faithful servant, whose kinspeople resided in
Philadelphia, had made a short visit to that place, and
among other things had brought back civilian clothes for
me. They had been bought by Philadelphia relatives,
who knew me only as an eighteen-year-old boy, and the
clothes were of the style worn by Philadelphia cousins of
ray own age. In my room I found a civilian's attire laid
out for rae, and I proceeded to divest myself of my uni
forra. For the first time in two years and eight months,
I appeared In citizen's dress. The sensation was peculiar.
The lightness and softness of the cloth was delightful, but
the sack coat and the straw hat raade me feel bobtailed
and bareheaded ; and when I looked in the glass, instead
of confronting a striking young officer, I beheld a mere
insignificant chit of an eighteen-year-old boy. Nothing
brought home to me more vividly the fact that the stun
ning events of the last month had ended the career on
which I had started, and that I had received a great set
back in manhood. This feeling was emphasized when
some one startled me by asking where I was going to
school. The house had a broad veranda. That evening we sat
upon It, after tea, quiet and sad, but enjoying the refresh
ing air and sense of peace. On the opposite side of the
street lived a family consisting of a mother and several
handsome daughters. They had been such ardent Con
federates that they had been sent out of Alexandria into
the Confederate lines by the Union commander. That
they were still loyal Confederates we never had reason to
doubt until we saw a party of young Union officers ride
up, followed by their orderlies. We felt sure they had

THE END 461
come to arrest the occupants of that house. Imagine our
surprise, therefore, when, in a few moments, we saw the
lights go up In the drawing-rooms, and discovered that
this was a social caU. One of the girls was soon banging
away on the piano and singing to her admirers. The
voices of hilarity, the sounds of mirth and music, horrified
us. We looked upon the conduct of those girls, in mak
ing merry, singing, playing, and receiving the attentions
of Union officers, as grossly indelicate, heartless to our
dead and to us, and treason to their Confederate comrades.
It was years before they regained social recognition in the
community. Their faithlessness to the lost cause chilled
my heart, and was a fresh reminder that the cause was
dead. That night I tossed upon my bed, reflecting on the
past, contemplating the present, speculating as to the
futurfe. The next morning I arose, and before breakfast
I wrote my wIU, as follows : —
V I, J. Reb., being of unsound mind and bitter memory,
and aware that I am dead, do make, publish, and declare
the following to be my political last -wiU and testament.
1. I give, devise, and bequeath aU my slaves to Harriet
Beecher Stowe.
• 2. My rights In the territories I direct shall be assigned
and set over, together with the. bricabrac known as State
Sovereignty, to the Hon. J  R  T  , to play
with for the remainder of his Hfe, and remainder to his
son after his death.
3. I direct that aU my shares in the venture of seces
sion shaU be canceled, provided I am released from my
unpaid subscription to the stock of said enterprise.
4. My interest in the civil government of the Confed
eracy I bequeath to any freak museum that may here
after be established.

462 THE END OF AN ERA
5. My sword, my veneration for General Robert E.
Lee, his subordinate commanders and his peerless soldiers,
and my undying love for my old comrades, living and
dead, I set apart as the best I have, or shall ever have, to
bequeath to my heirs forever.
6. And now, being dead, having experienced a death
to Confederate ideas and a new birth unto allegiance to
the Union, I depart, with a vague but not definite hope
of a joyful resurrection, and of a new life, upon lines
somewhat different from those of the last eighteen years.
I see what has been pulled down very clearly. What is
to be built up in its place I know not. It is a mystery ;
but death Is always mysterious. Amen.
I read this will at the breakfast-table. It amused the
family, but with rae it was no joke. I was dead. Every
thing that I had ever believed in politically was dead.
Everybody that I had ever trusted or relied upon politi
cally was dead. My beloved State of Virginia was dis-
raerabered, and a new State had been erected out of a
part of her, against her will. Every hope that I had ever
indulged was dead. Even the manhood I had attained
was dead. I was a boy again, a mere child, — precocious.
Ignorant, conceited, and unformed. I had set my heart
and soul on the career of a soldier. What hope was left
for that? The night's reflections had made aU these
things clear as never before. Boy as I was, I felt It as
keenly as did the embittered Moor when, in his agony, he
exclaimed : —
' ' Fare-well the plumed troop, and the big -wars,
That make ambition virtue ! O, f areweU !
Fare-well the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war !

THE END 463
And, 0 you mortal engines, -whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
FareweU ! Othello's occupation 's gone I "
In hopelessness I scanned the wreck, and then — I went
back to school.

In June, 1865, a boy naraed John Sergeant Wise, a
visitor at the home of his uncle. General Meade, in Phil
adelphia, was a witness of the triumphant return of the
armies of tbe Union. He was regarded as such a mere
child that he was not invited to the table when com
pany came, but dined with the other children in the nur
sery. A little later, he sat in overaUs and a straw hat
fishing near the shores of the blue Chesapeake. In Sep
tember, he was sent to school. In October, he was playing
furiously on the scrub nine of his college baseball team.
Two years later, he was admitted to the practice of law,
and even then he had not attained his majority.
It is incredible that this stripling was the same person
as the young officer whose observations and career have
been chronicled in these pages. Nor Is it more difficult
now for the reader than for the writer to realize that this
narrative is aught but a dream.

INDEX

Abingdon, Va., 373, 381.
Abolitionists, 48, 49, 73.
Accawmacke, The Kingdom of, 10-
22.
Accomack County, when formed, 15.
Alabama Regiment, Third, 212-
214.
Albemarle County, 138.
Albemarle Sound, 175.
Alexander, colonel of artillery, 340.
AUen, Major " Buck," of Claremont,
409.
Aliens of Tuckahoe, the, 139.
Allstadt, Mr., captured by John
Brown, 128.
Amelia Court House, 416.
American flag:, 3, 9, 50, 160, 161.
American party, 53.
Anderson, Lieutenant-Colonel, 182,
184.
Anderson, Lieutenant-General, 330.
Anderson family, 239.
Andrew, Governor John A., 134.
Andrews, Olivero, 402.
Annamessex Creek, 18.
Aqueduct, at Rio de Janeiro, 102.
Arbuckle family, 29.
Arlington, Lord, 18.
Arlington plantation, 18.
Array of Tennessee dissolves, 456,
457.
Arnold of Rugby, 246.
Arthur, President Chester A., 239.
Ashby's Landing, 182, 184.
Ashland, Va., 308.
Assassination of Lincoln, how re
ceived, 454, 455.
Assawamman Creek, 18.
AtwiU, Cadet, killed, 302.
Augnst, Colonel Thomas P., 68.
Augusta County, 236.
AveriU, Genersd, raid by, 272.
Bacchante, painting by Pauline Lau
rent, 208, 210.
BagweU famUy, 17.

BagweU, Lieutenant E. R., 431, 432.
Balcony Falls, 138, 234, 235, 312.
Baltimore, 17, 30, 40.
Baptists, 16.
Barclays, the, 239.
Barksdale, Dr. Randolph, 69.
Barron, Commodore James, 191, 192.
Bartlett, General, 368.
Bartow, General, 169.
"Basin Cats," Richmond, 59.
Baylor, Colonel R. W., 119.
Bayly family, 29.
Bearing of Union of&cers to Confed
erates, 457.
Beaufort, The, Confederate steamer,
196, 200, 201, 205.
Beauregard, General, 169, 170, 315,
330, 361.
Bee, General, 169.
BeU, Lorenzo, 29, 31.
Benjamin, Judah P., 176-178, 401,
445.
Ben McCuUoch Rangers, 186, 187.
Benton, Jessie, 72.
Big Bethel, 168.
Big Lick, 219.
Bishops Lydeard, 26.
Black Horse Cavalry, 147.
Blackstone family, 29.
Blandford, church and cemetery, 356,
360.
Blockade runners, the nabobs, 397,
398.
Blue Ridge, 138.
Blues, Richmond, 110, 166, 170, 186,
188.
Boggess, Cadet, 258.
BoUings of Boiling Island and Bol-
Ung HaU, 139.
Borabproofs, appeal to soldiers to
fight on, 395, 396.
" Bonnie Blue Flag " first heard, 157.
Bonsacks, 231.
Booth, John WUkes, 93, 131.
Botafogo, 1.
Botetourt County, 236.

466

INDEX

Bowdoin family, 17.
Bowman famUy, 17.
Bowraan's Folly, seat of the Crop
pers, 29.
Bragg, General Braxton, 176, 415,
445.
Brandy distUling, 216.
Braxton, Colonel, 340.
BrazU, 1, 10, 17, 33.
Breathitt, Colonel, 340.
Breckinridge, General John C, 71,
72, 288, 294, 401, 445, 450-453.
Bricabrac, at RoUeston, 208.
Brooke, Captain John M., 194, 195.
Brooks, Preston S., 115.
Brown, General, of Freedmen's Bu
reau, 211.
Brown, Old John, 75, 113, 136, 144 ;
his constitution, 127, 128.
Browne famUy, 17.
Brownsville, seat of Upshur famUy,
29.
Bruton parish church, 26.
Buchanan, President James, 71-73,
116, 135, 170, 239.
Buchanan, Admiral, 194, 195, 198,
200. _
Burbridge, General, raid by, 377.
Burkeville, Va., 416^71, 419, 420.
Burnside, General A. E., 352, 354,
356. _
Burnside's expedition, 181-183.
Butler, General B. F., 211.
Butlers, the old slave, the terror of
smaU boys, 122.
CabeU, Cadet Sergeant, 299, 302,
306.
CabeU, Mrs., mules of, 67.
CabeUs of Nelson, the, 139.
Cadet boxes from home, 283, 284.
Cadet nicknames, 261, 262.
Calhoun, John C, 239.
California, 2.
CampbeU famUy, The, 239.
CarapbeU, Douglas, 239.
CampbeU, Miss, of Louisiana, 403.
Camp Lee, stationed at, 308.
Cape Charles, 10, 11, 18.
Cape Henry, 10, 167.
Cape Horn, 2.
" Captain Jenks " first heard, 441.
Carnifax Perry, 170.
Carrington, Major Isaac H., 409.
Carter, Colonel Thomas H., 340.
Carvell, John, blockade runner, 409.
Cary, Miss Connie. 401.
Cateti, suburb of Rio de Janeiro, 1.
Catholic Church, 53.
Chaffin's Farm, 207.

Chamberlayne, Captain J. Hamp
den, 360.
Chapel HUl, N. C, 238.
Charles I., 10, 17, 23.
Charleston Kanawha, 167.
CharlottesvUle, Va., 138, 308.
Charlton, Stephen, 18.
Chesapeake Bay, 10, 11, 22, 27, 40,
167, 196, 463.
Cherrystone Creek, 18.
Chesconnessex Creek, 18, 27.
Chickahorainy, 213, 214.
ChUdhood at Only, 44r-46, 52, 53.
ChUdish amusements at Richmond,
70, 71.
Chincoteague, 18.
"Chinook," Captain H. A. Wise,
261.
Christening, 8.
Christiansburg, Va., 385.
Christraas, IHl, 7, 391.
" Church HiU Cats," Richmond, 59.
Ci-vUian soldiers, 457, 458.
CiviUan's clothes, how they felt, 460.
Cleveland, President Grover, 239.
Climate of Eastern Shore, unsur
passed, 14.
Clover Station, Va., 412.
Cooke, General Philip St. George, of
BeUe Mead, 139, 276.
Cocke, Sylvester P., financier, 215,
216.
Cockes of Fluvanna, 139.
Coehorn mortars at crater fight,
352.
Cold Harbor, 308.
Coles, Captain, kiUed at Roanoke,
186, 187.
Colonna, Cadet, 247-249.
Colston, General R. E., 261, 268.
Columbia, the frigate, 8.
Corapton f amUy, 239.
Confederate prices, 392-394.
Confederate reserves, 372, 391.
Confederate traitors, 460, 461.
Confederate wedding, a, 397.
Confederates who were never Con
federates, 396.
Congress, the ship, 198, 199.
Constitution, the ship, 48.
Cook, co-conspirator -with John
Brown, 127.
Cooks, of old time Virginia, un-
equaled, 66.
Cooper, General Samuel, 175.
Corbin family, 29.
Cornfield peas, the best friend of
Confederates, 393.
Corporal, promoted to, 284.
Corps of cadets, first sight of, 101.

INDEX

467

"Country be d — d. There is no
country," 434.
Craney Island, 164, 167, 196.
Crater, battle of the, 346-363.
Crawford, Thomas, the sciUptor, 100.
" Crazes," the periodical political,
54.
Creeks, what they are, 18.
Croatan Sound, N. C, 181.
Crockett, Cadet, kUled, 302.
CroraweU, Oliver, 240.
Cropper faraUy, 17, 129.
Cropper, General John, 27.
Cropper, Sarah, 27.
Cuba, early discussion concerning,
115.
Culpeper, Lord, 18.
Cumberland, the ship, 160, 198, 199.
Currituck Sound, 175.
Curtis, the scout, 425.
Custis famUy, 17, 29.
Custis, John, 18.
Daingerfield, Mr., captured by John
Brown, 130.
Dale, Sir Thomas, 13.
Dale's Gift, 13.
Daniel, John M., 171, 177.
DanyiUe, Va., 412, 433, 457.
Davidson, Captain Greenlee, burial
of; 267.
Davis, President Jefferson, 175, 214,
260, 309, 330, 400, 401, 415, 417, 447.
Davis, Mrs. President, 401.
Dayton, W. L., candidate for Vice-
President, 72.
Deane, Dr. Francis H., 70.
Decatur, Commodore, 191.
Deer, on John Smith's map, 12.
Deering, General "Jira," 337, 338.
De la War, Lord, Thomas West, 23.
De Leon, Cooper, 402.
De Rnyter, Dutch admiral, anec
dote concerning, 205.
Deserter-hunting in Floyd County,
Va., 385-391.
Devonshire, our folks frora, 23.
Diggs, Governor, grant frora, 26.
Diinraock, Captain Charles, 59.
Dimmock, Marion, 69.
District of Columbia, 119.
" Dixie " first heard, 167.
Domestic luxury great in South, 66.
Domestic servants unsurpassed, 66-
Donelson, Andrew J., candidate for
Vice-President, 71.
Douglas, George, a slave, 47.
Douglas, Stephen A., 71, 116, 118,
156, 167.
Dress of period, 1856-60, 66, 67.

Drunkenness on Eastern Shore, 16.
Dublin Depot, Va., 372, 373, 391.
Dudley, Rev. Jacob D., 137, 143, 114.
DueUng, the practice of, 94-97.
Dunkards, the, 226.
Dunlop, Mr. Jaraes, of Petersburg.
317, 318.
Duryee, Colonel Abram, 110.
Dutch of New York, 237.
Early, General Jubal A., 227-229,
^^ 315, 396.
" East Lynne," the play, 93.
Eastern Shore, first settlement of, 14.
" Eat, drink, and be merry," 410,411.
Echols, General John, 294, 296, 298,
300.
Edgar's battalion, 302.
Ekeekes, Chief of Onancock, 27.
Eliza, my white nurse, 38, 46, 62, 460.
Elizabeth River, 163, 167, 196, 209.
EUiott, General, of South Carolina,
346, 352, 369.
EUiott's salient, 346, 352, 353,357, 369,
360.
Emancipation, many Southerners
working for, 113.
Eraerson, Ralph Waldo, 134.
England, home of our people, 23.
English ancestors the best, 24-26.
"Enquirer," Richraond, 80, 90.
Episcopalians, 16.
Equipages, handsome, in Richmond,
67.
Ericsson, steamer. Seventh New
York Regiraent on, 105. ,
Evacuation of Richmond and Peters
burg, first news of, 412-416.
Evans famUy, 17.
Evans, Cadet, color-bearer, 298, 302.
EweU, General R. S., 330, 332, 427,
428.
" Examiner," Richmond, 171, 177.
Falls of the James, 14.
Fanatics, what they are, 49.
Farmville, 426^36.
Father Ritchie, 90.
Faulkner, Charles J., cadet and sen
ator, 273, 275, 301.
Field, General, 330.
Fighting among Richmond boys, 58.
Fighting ground, V. M. I., 253.
" Fighting in the Union," 158.
Fighting prevalent on Eastern Shore,
16.
FiUmore, President MUlard, 71.
Finney family, 29.
First lessons, 48,
First love, 48.

46S

INDEX

First settlement of Eastern Shore, 14.
First Virginia Regiment, 106-112,
120, 124.
Fiske, John, 239.
Fitchett family, 17.
Five Forks, 412.
Planner, Captain, 360.
Flat Creek, 425.
Fleet, Captain A. F., 318.
Fleming faraily of West View, 139.
Flower de Hundred, 14.
Floyd County, deserter-hunting in,
385-391.
Floyd, General John B., 170,_171.
Forrest, Commodore, 194, 195.
Fort Calhoun, 167, 196.
Fort Norfolk, 162.
Fort Sumter, 159, 160.
Port Wool, 167, 196.
Fortress Monroe, 11, 167, 197, 209.
Foster, General, 182, 186-187.
Fourth of July, 105.
Fowle, Mrs., of Alexandria, 69.
FrankUn County, 212.
Franklin Street, Richmond, 67.
Frederick the Great, sword of, 129.
Freesoilers of Kansas, 115.
Fremont, John C, 72.
Fry, Major, 188.
Furniture, sumptuous among Souths
erners, i56.
GaUs of Albemarle, The, 1.39.
Game on Eastern Shore, 14.
Games and sports of eastern shore
man, 16.
Garnett, Dr. A. Y. P., 3, 166, 416,
460.
Garrison, William Lloyd, 134.
Garrett, Cadet, 301.
Gauley River, 170.
Gayety under desperate conditions,
396.
Genesee valley, 138.
German population of Virginia, 236.
German prisoners, 291.
Germantown, the ship, 160.
Gettysburg, 272, 329.
Gibbons, General, 324.
Gibbs, Hampton, 360.
Gibson, Colonel J. T., 119.
Gilham, Colonel WUUam, 102, 103,
261.
GUlett faraUy, 17.
Glade Spring, Va., 373.
Glen Cove, the stearaer, 107.
Gloria landing, Rio de Janeiro, 2.
Gofflgon faraily, 17, 29.
Goldsbrough, Commodore, 182.
Goochland County, 137, 212.

Goochland Troop, 146, 147.
Goode, Colonel J. Thomas, 346, 359.
Gordon, General John B., 320, 339.
Gosport Navy Yard, 160, 172, 195,
209.
Gouverneur, Samuel L., and famUy,
105.
Governor's election, 1855, 55.
Government House, Richmond, 57.
Gracie, General Archibald, 368.
Graham famUy, 239.
Granger craze, 54.
Grant, General U. S., 239, 286, 291,
302, 308, 319, 326, 353, 354, 365, 427.
Gravesend, England, first of fauuly
sailed from, 28.
Grays, Richmond, 110.
Great Eastern, 164.
Greeley, Horaoe, 134.
Green, Colonel, 188.
Greenback craze, 54.
Green Bay, 419.
Greene, Lieutenant S. Dana, 204, ;
Greensboro, N. C, 448.
Guard of the Metropolis, the, 59.
Guiteau, Charles, 131.
Gulf Stream, 14.
Halifax Court House, 442, 448, 457.
HaUeck, General H. W., 1-9.
Hammond's Landing, 186.
Hampton, Va., 11, 197.
Hampton, General Wade, 328, 330,
332
Hampton Roads, 11, 154, 167, 196.
Hancock, General W. S., 354.
Hanna, Cadet Lieutenant, 302.
" Happy Land of Canaan, The,"
song, 136, KiS.
Hardee, General W. J., 175.
Harper's Ferry, 118, 135.
Harrisons of Ampthill, 139.
Harrisons of Clifton, 139.
Harrisons of Elk HiU, 139, 147, 148.
Harrison, President Benjamin, 2.39.
Harrison, Burton, 215, 401, 444, 445.
Harrison, Captain Julien, 147, 148.
Harrison, Dr. Randolph, 69.
Harrisonburg, Va., 291, 308.
Harvie, Captain Edwin, 449.
HaskeU, Captain JohnC, 340, 360. _
Hatch, Hon. W. H., of Missouri,
409.
Hatteras Inlet, 175.
Hawkins, Colonel Rush, 189.
HaxaU, Dr. Robert W., 70.
HaxaU, Miss Lucy, 69.
Heath, Roscoe B., 70.
Henrico Light Dragoons, 106.
Henricopolis, 14.

INDEX

469

Henry, Judge .Tames, 27.
Henry, Mary, 27.
Henry, Patrick, 99, 100, 238.
Henry, a slave of Colonel Preston,
375-378.
"Herald," New York, on the John
Brown verdict, 130.
Heth, General Harry, 328-330.
High Bridge, Va., 425, 428, 435. ^
HiU, Captain A. Govan, tactical
officer of cadets, 299.
HiU, General A. P., 326, 327, 301-
361.
Hobsons of Eastwood, 139.
Hobsons of Howard's Neck, 139.
Hobsons of Snowden, 139.
Hog-kiUing time, joys of, 144, 145.
Hoke, General, 330, 354.
HoUywood Cemetery, 107, 189.
Hopkins, Captain Stephen, 30, 48.
Hospitals in Richmond, 394.
Hotels, in South, why worthless, 65.
Houston family, 239.
HowardsviUe, Va., 137.
Howell, the Misses, of the "White
House set," 403.
Hubards of Buckingham, 139.
Huger, General Benjamin, 176-180.
Hungers Creek, 18.
Hunter, General Da-vid, his raid,
310.
Ignorance in the South, false ideas
about, 63, 64.
Ildefonso, Dr. 6, 7.
Indians, 10, 11, 14.
Irish, the hostility of Know-Nothings
to, 53. _
Irish terriers, 44.
Italian skies on Eastern Shore, 22.
"It clamor et agmine facto," 439-
441.
Jackson, Andrew, 239.
Jackson family, 239.
Jackson, General "Mudwall," 379.
Jackson, "StonewaU," 58, 61, 102,
103, 169, 238, 240, 261, 268-270,
330, 331^356.
James 1., King, 11, 13.
James IL, King, 236.
James River, 11, 63, 137, 196.
James River valley J.37, 140.
James River and Kanawha Canal,
138.
Jamestown, 13, 14.
Jamestown, the steamer, 106, 199,
205.
"James River low grounds," 137-
140.

Jefferson, Cadet, killed, 302.
Jefferson, Thomas, 54, 99, 100.
JetersvUle, Va., 416, 417.
Jim, the butler, 122, 208, 210.
"John Brown's Body," the song,
13G.
"Johnny comes Marching Home,''
the song, 440.
Johnson, Captain, and his coolies,
192.
Johnson, General Bushrod, 346, 364,
358, 361, 434.
Johnson, " Monkey," 30.
Johnston, General Joseph E., 169,
170, 176, 215, 449-453.
Johnston, Mrs. Joseph E., 449.
Johnston's army, 448, 453-457.
Jones, Lieutenant Catesby, of the
Virginia, 195, 202, 204.
Jones, Cadet, kiUed, 302.
Jordan, Colonel, of North CaroUna,
182, 183.
Joynes famUy, 17, 29, 31.
Kanawha valley, 170.
Kansas, troubles in, 115.
Keraper, General James L., 323,
328, 329.
Kennard family, 17, 29.
" Kentucky gentleman would never
take away a bottle," 453.
Kentucky thoroughbreds, 67.
Kickotan, 11.
Kictopeke, Indian chief, 10.
King, Vice-President WiUiam R.,
48. _
Kinship on Eastern Shore, 16.
Kite-flying, poUtical, 56.
Knights of the Golden Horseshoe,
235.
Know-Nothing campaign, 53-57.
Knox, General Henry, 238.
Lacy's Springs, 285.
Lafayette CoUege, Easton, Pa., 238.
Lambert, Rev. Mr., 8.
Lambert's Point, 164, 167, 196, 209.
Lampkin, Captain, 360.
Laughing King of Accawmacke, The,
10, 11, 15.
Laurel Brigade, 285.
Leatherbiuy famUy, 17.
LedUe, Major-General, 354, 356.
Lee, General Custis, 427, 428.
Lee, General Fitzhugh, 328, 330, 333,
337, 425, 426, 438.
Lee, General Robert E., 6, 104, 132,
133, 170, 177, 193, 215, 228, 288,
302, 308, 326, 328, 330, 331, 340,
346, 359, 361, 393, 428, 436.

470

INDEX

Lee, General W. H. F., 328, 330,
333, 425.
Lee, Light Horse Harry, 334.
Lee family, 10, 69.
Lee's army, 59, 161, 260, 297, 330.
Legare, Sidney, 92.
Lewis, Andrew, 98.
Lewis, John, 238.
Lexington, Va., 100, 231, 233, 234,
310.
Liberty Hall Academy, 238.
Libraries, private, in Virginia, 64.
Lincoln, Abraham, 76, 116, 118, 131,
134, 144, 157-160, 454.
Lincoln, news of assassination of,
454, 455.
Littleton family, 17.
Logan, Governor, of Pennsylvania,
236.
Logans of Dungeness, 139, 279, 283.
Lomax, Colonel, 161.
Loraonizofi', Baron, 6.
Long, General, 339.
LongfeUow, H. W., 134.
Longstreet, General James, 327.
Louis Napoleon, 92.
Luray Gap, 295.
Lynch, Coraraander, 182.
Lynchburg, Va., 137, 313, 416.
Lynnhaven Bay, 167.
Lyons, Mary Power, 69.
Lyons, Mr. and Mrs. James, 69, 70,
75.
McCabe, Captain W. Gordon, 354.
McCausland, General John, 268, 310.
McCleUan, General George B., 170,
171, 177, 214.
McClungs, The, 239.
McDoweU, Cadet, kUled, 306.
McDowells, The, 239.
McFarland, Mr. and Mrs., 69, 70.
McKinley, President WUliam, 239.
McLaughUn, Major, 296, 300.
McLaughUns, The, 239.
Mahone, General William, 268, 319-
327, .3.30, 361, 372, 428.
Mahone's brigade, .364.
Male attire in 1856-60, 66.
MaUory, Colonel Francis, 322.
MaUory, Hon. Stephen, Secretary
of the Navy, 402, 445.
Malvern HiU, 214.
Manassas, 162, 168, 178.
Manchester, Va., 457.
MarshaU, Chief Justice John, 99.
MarshaU, Colonel Charles, 342, 428.
MarshaU, General Humphrey, 403,
404.
Mary Anne, a slave, 39.

Maryland, State of, 11, 18, 29, 30,
119.
Mason, George, 99, 334.
Mason, Hon. John Y., 92.
Massachusetts and John Brown, 133.
Massanutten Mountains, 295.
Meade, General George G., 353, 356,
358, 360, 463.
MechanicsviUe, Va., 214.
Mecklenburg Resolutions, 238.
Meherrin, Va., 417, 419, 422.
Merrimac, the ship, 160, 172, 191,
193, 206, 209, 212.
Merriraac and Monitor, 191-205.
Merritt, Cadet, wounded, 299.
Methodists, 16.
Mexican War 2, 4, 6, 30, 31, 268.
Michaux, of Miehaux's Ferry, the,
139.
Milford Station, 308.
Minnegerode, Rev. Charles, 70.
Minnesota, the ship, 198, 201.
Minor, Lieutenant R. D., 195, 201,
202.
Mobile, Ala., 161.
Mohawk vaUey, 138.
Monacon country, 235.
Monitor, appearance of, 202, 205.
Monroe, President, 104, 112, 199.
Montgoraery, Ala., 161.
Montgomery Guard, 110.
Moores of Rockbridge, 239.
Morson famUy, 69.
Morsons of Dover, the, 139, 143.
Moseley family, 162.
Mott, General, 324.
Mount Airy, 304.
Mount Custis, 29.
Mount Jackson, 302.
Mount Prospect, 29.
Mules used for equipage, 67.
Munford, Rev. WUliam, 69.
Music, at entertainments in South,
68.
Myers, Major WiUiam B., 402.
Nag's Head, N. C, 180, 181, 189.
Nandua Creek, Va., 18, 26.
Nansemond River, Va., 167, 196.
Napoleon HI., 92.
National patriotism in Virginia in
1868, 98.
" Navy HiU Cats," Richmond, 59.
Navy Yard at Norfolk, evacuation
and burning of, 162, 164.
Negro troops, first encounter with,
.366 ; enUsted by Confederacy, 394,
395.
Nelson, Captain, of the Fhceniz, 10.
Nelson, General Thomas, 99.

INDEX

471

New Hampshire, 2.37.
Newman, Isaac, sharpshooter, 349,
350.
Ne-wmarket, Va., battle at, 294.
Newport, Captain, 235.
Newport News, 197.
New York, 10, 14, 17, 105-112.
New York Marine ArtiUery, 182.
New York regiments, 105, 107, 182,
199.
Norfolk, Va., 17, 40, 152, 154, 157,
160, 161, 167, 169, 175, 195, 206,
209, 211, 365.
Northampton County, Va., when
iformed, 16.
North CaroUna, coast of, 176, 206.
North CaroUna regiments, 186.
Norwood, Colonel, 18.
Nottingham family, 17, 29, 30.
Oocahannock Creek, 18.
Oceanic, the steamer, 154.
Ochiltree, Colonel Thoraas P., 402,
403.
"Old Bald," Colonel J. T. L. Pres
ton, 261.
Old Dorainion, 17.
"Old GUI," Colonel WUliam Gil
ham, 261.
" Old Jack," StonewaU Jackson, 261.
Old Plantation Creek, Va., 18.
"Old PoUy," General R. E. Colston,
261.
"Old Spex," General F. H. Smith,
246, 261.
"Old Tom," Colonel T. H. WUliam-
son, 261.
Oliver, Captain, 154.
Onancock Creek, 18, 27, 48.
"Only," my father's home, 27, 28.
Ord, General, 354.
"Oregon HiU Cats," Richmond, 59.
Organ Mountains, 2.
Ould, Major Robert, 409.
" Our American Cousin," first seen.

Page, Major Legh R., 409.
Page family, 69.
Palmer, Rev. Dr., of New Orleans,
145.
Panic, creating a, 426, 427.
Parke, General, 182, 187, 188.
Parker, Lieutenant-Comraander, 200.
Parker, Captain W. W., of Parker's
Battery, 340.
Parker faimly, 17.
Parramore famUy, 17.
Pate, Henry Clay, captured by John
Brown, 126.

Patton. George, 300.
Patton's brigade, 298.
Paul, Colonel Samuel, 361.
Paulding, Commodore, 161.
Paxton, General, burial of, 267.
Paxtons, the, 239.
Pegram, General John, 69.
Pegram, Colonel WUUam J., 59, 340.
Pendergast, Lieutenant, 200.
Penn heiresses, 69.
Pennsylvania, the ship, 160.
Percival, Captain, U. S. N., 211.
Periodicals, 64.
Peterkin, Rev. Joshua, 70.
Petersburg, 206, 297, 315, 317 ; mine
at, 361, 352 ; evacuation of, 412-416.
PhUadelphia, 10, 17, 33, 34, 46, 78.
Phillips, WendeU, 134.
Pickett, General George E., 69, 330,
338, 339.
Pickett's division, 329, 428.
Piedmont, Va., 63.
Pierce, President FrankUn, 48, 49, 89,
239.
Pig Point Battery, 167.
PimUco Sound, 175.
Pitts family, 17.
Pizzini, Cadet, 302.
Pleasants, Colonel Henry, mining
engineer, 353.
Pocomoke River, 11, 18.
Pomegranates on Eastern Shore, 4.
Pontoon bridge across river at Rich
raond, 457.
Poore, Ben : Perley, 211.
Porter, Midshipman, 186.
Portsmouth.Va., 209.
Pottawatomie massacre, 126.
Poulson famUy, 17, 30.
Powhatan, 11, 13.
Prentice, Clarence, 403.
Presbyterians, 16.
Preston family, 219, 239.
Preston, Captain Frank, 293.
Preston, Colonel J. T. L., 261.
Preston, Colonel Robert T., 372, 391.
Preston, Captain Samuel, 360, 367,
368.
Price, Professor Thomas R., 69.
Prices of commodities, 1864-65, 392.
Prince of Wales, visit of, 165, 156.
Princess Anne County, 158.
PubUc Guard of Virginia, 59, 74, 106.
Public schools in South, why none,
64.
Public spirit lacking, 65.
Puritan blood, 34.
Raleigh, the, 196, 201.
Randolph, Hon. George W., 70.

472

INDEX

Randolph, John, his home, 441, 442.
Rappahannock River, 11.
Raritan, the ship, 160.
Reagan, Postraaster-General J. H.,
402, 445.
Bearas's Station, 328.
Rebel WiU and Testament, 461,
Redwood, Cadet, 297.
Reed, Cadet, wounded, 299.
Reeve, Major John, 45.5, 456.
Reno, General, 182, 187, 188.
ReveUle, 254-256.
Rhodes, General, 268.
Richmond, Va., 13, 38, 39, 43, 57, 63,
71, lis, 137, 212, 309, 310, 315, 328,
392, 393, 396, 457 ; news of evacua
tion of, 412-416.
Richmond "Enquirer," 80, 90.
Richmond Light Infantry Blues, 110,
166, 170, 186, 188.
Rio de Janeiro, 1, 2, 191.
Rip-raps, 167, 196.
Ritchie, Thomas, 90.
Roanoke County, 236.
Roanoke Island, 173, 190, 206.
Roanoke, the ship, 198, 201.
Robertson, General, of Tennessee,
379.
Robins, Colonel Obedience, 15.
Robins family, 17.
Robinson, Colonel TuUy, 27.
Robinson, Scarburgh, 27.
Rockbridge County, 233, 236.
Rocky Mount, 212, 219, 22.3-227.
Rocky Ridge Rifles, 106.
RoUeston, 152, 157, 207, 209, 211.
Roraan, Colonel, 318.
Ross family, 239.
Rosser's brigade, 286.
Rough aud Ready, 30.
Rude's HiU, 303.
Rutherford, Miss EmUy and famUy,
397, ff.
Rutherfords of Rock Castle, 139.
SaUors' Creek, 427, 428.
Salt-boilers, in Accomack, 13.
SaltviUe, Va., 373-391.
Saunders's Alabama brigade, 366.
Savage family, 29.
Scarburgh famUy, 17.
Scarburgh, Captain Edmund, 16, 26.
Scarburgh, Colonel Edmund, 17.
Scarburgh, Sir Charles, 17.
Scarburgh, Hannah, 26.
Schofield, General, 210.
School system, why there was none
in the South, 64.
Schools, 47, 48, 57, 70, 137, 140-166.

Scotch-Irish Presbyterians, 235-243,
293.
Scott, Dame, of Fauquier, 69.
Scott, General Winfield, 102-104.
Secession, 48, 135, 157.
Seddon, Mrs., of Goochland, 69.
Seddons of Sabot HUl, 139.
Selden, Lieutenant WiUiam B.,
killed, 186.
Seldens of Orapax and Norwood, 139.
Selma, Ala., 161.
Semmes, Colonel Thomas M., 258.
Sergeant, Hon. John, 33.
Servants, domestic, in the South, 66.
Seven Days' Battles, 214.
Seven Pines, 212.
Seward, WiUiam H., 75, 116, 134,
144.
SeweU's Mountain, 170.
SeweU's Point, 196, 209.
Shaw, Colonel, of North Carolina,
182.
Shenandoah vaUey, 58, 233, 235, 288,
310.
Sheridan, General Philip, 354.
Sherman, General W. T., 1, 9, 450.
Shinplasters, 216.
Shipp, Colonel Scott, 246, 292, 298,
302, 314.
" Shockoe HUl Cats," Richmond, 59.
Shot-making, Confederate, 276.
Shriver, Cadet, 265-267; wounded,
, 302.
Sigel, General Franz, 291.
Silver craze, 64.
Simpkins faraily, 17.
Sisson's Kingdom, 385-390.
Skipwiths, the, 139.
Slave-owner, referred to as, 47.
Slave sale, 80.
Slave trade, 4.
Slavery, 34, .36, 48, 64, 80, 148, 151.
"Slavery, The Divine Origin of,"
145.
Slaves, scenes with, 47, 52, 74, 119,
153, 318, 375, 433, 458 ; attitude of
the North toward escaped, 113,
114.
Slidell, Senator, 116.
Sraith famUy, 17, 29.
Smith, General ''Baldy," 315.
Smith, Coraraander, 200.
Smith, General F. H., 100, 244, 315.
Smith, John, 10 ; his map of Vir
ginia, 12.
Smithfield, Va., 14.
Smith's Island, 10.
Snead family, 29.
Solomon, a slave, 47.
Somersetshire, 26.

INDEX

473

Sothern, Ned, 66.
South Carolina, 145, 157.
South Side, Va., 63.
Southern flags first seen, 157-160.
Southern ignorance, falsehoods con
cerning, 63, 64.
Southside RaUroad, 328, 416.
Spartan Band of Richmond, 58.
Speculation in Confederacy, 216-218.
Spotswood, Governor, 235.
Spottsylvania Court House, 308.
Sprague, Cadet, 257.
Stanard, Cadet, 297, 307.
Stanard, Judge and Mrs., 69.
Stanards of Bendover, 139.
Stars and Stripes, 3, 9, 50, 160.
Staimton, Va., 287, 289, 308.
Staunton River bridge, 328.
Stevenson, Major-General Carter,
448.
Stingaree, 12.
Stingaree Point, 12.
Strawberry HiU, Va., 214.
Stuart, General J. E. B., 330.
Sturtevant, Captain Nat, 340.
St. Lawrence, the ship, 198, 201.
Suffolk, Va., 210.
Sugar Loaf Mountain, Rio de Ja
neiro, 1.
Suggs famUy, 261, 367.
Sumner, Charles, 114, 116, 117.
Sunmer, Colonel, U. S. A., 126.
Surry County, Va., 12.
Sussex County, Va., 12.
SutherUn, Major, of DanviUe, 444.
Tabb, Colonel Wmiam B., 397.
Taliaferro, General WiUiam B., 161.
Tanner's Creek, 164.
Tayloes, the, 219-221.
Taylor, Colonel W. H., 342.
TazeweU, Littleton, 68.
Teniers paintings, stolen from Rol-
leston, 208-211.
Terrapin on Eastern Shore of Vir
ginia, 14.
Thayer, Colonel, Founder of West
Point Academy, 246.
Theatre at Richmond, 93.
Thompson, John R., 69.
Tidewater, Va., 63.
Tidewater Virginians, 365.
Tinsley, Peter, 220.
Tompkins, Captain SaUy, 394.
Topsy, 76, 77.
Traveler, General Lee's horse, 343.
TreviUian, Colonel John M., 139.
Trimble, Colonel, killed, 383.
Troop ships. United States, 1.
Tucker, Commander, 199.

Turkeys on Smith's map of Virginia,
12.
Turner, Nat, leader of insurrection,
74.
Tyler, President John, 159.
" Uncle Tom's Cabin," the play seen,
76.
Uniform of Confederates, suggested
by Seventh N. Y. Regiment, 111.
Union officers, bearing , of, towards
Confederates, 457.
Upshur family, 17, 29.
Upshur's Neck, 29.
Vassas, MUe., 70.
Venable, Colonel Charles S., 342,
360, 361.
" Village Blacksraith," Herring's,
208-210.
Virginia capes, 10, 14.
Virginia dismembered, 462.
Virginia MUitary Institute, 100, 231,
234, 244-275 ; burning of, 312.
Virginia regiments, 186.
Virginia settlers, various types of,
232, 233.
Virginia thoroughbreds, 67.
Virginia's position in the Union in
1856-60, 61-63.
Viva voce voting, how conducted,
65.
Von Boerck, Baron Heros, 402, 405.
Wade, Senator Benjamin, 116-117.
Walker, General H. H., 412.<
Walker, General Lindsay, 214, 268.
Waples famUy, 29.
Ward family, 17.
Warren General, 354, 362.
Warwick, Lieutenant Barksdale,
.318, 398.
Warwick, Bradfute, 69.
Warwick family, 139.
Washington, General George, 50, 54,
98, 138, 238, 286, 287.
Washington, Colonel Lewis, 128.
Washington and Jefferson CoUege,
238, 314.
Washington and Lee University, 238.
Washington statue, unveiUng of,
98.
Watch crystals, speculation in, 217.
Watts famUvj 219.
Wedding, a Confederate, 397.
Weisiger, General, 362.
West Augusta, 236, 238.
West family, 17.
West, Lieutenant-Colonel John, 27.
West, Matilda, 27.

474

INDEX

West Point, 1, 3, 59, 100, 129, 175,
176, 234, 246.
Wharton, General "Gabe," 293, 296.
Wheelwright, Cadet, kiUed, 302.
"White House set," 403.
White Sulphur Springs, 67, 167.
Whittier, John G., 134.
Wide-awake processions, 403.
WigfaU, Miss, 403.
WUkins, Sergeant, 422.
WiU, a rebel, 461.
WiUiam and Mary CoUege, 89, 165,
236.
WiUiamsburg, Va., 26.
WUUamson, Captain, U. S. N., 172,
192.
WUUamson, Colonel Thoraas H.,
261.
Willoughby's Spit, 196, 209.
Wilson, General James H., 328, 333,
337.
Wise famUy, 17, 23, 26.

Wise, Captain George D., 322, 327.
Wise, Governor Henry A., 3-9, 27
31, 38, 48-50, 53, 58, 79, 108, llo'
132, 157, 160, 165, 170, 191, I95'
206, .211, 297, 316, 346, 366, 394
427, 438. '
Wise, Rev. Henry A., 166, 220, 442.
Wise, Captain Henry A., Jr.. 260
261, 302.
Wise, Louis, C. H. F., 244, 276
305.
Wise, Cadet L. W., 261.
Wise, Captain 0. Jennings, 69, 79,
89, 166, 173, 184, 186, 188, 189.
Wise, Hon. Richard A., 47, 48, 91,
180, 195, 196, 207, 318, 43l, 448.
Yeardley famUy, 17.
Yerby family, 29.
Young, Brigham, 146.
Young Guard BattaUon, 106, Ul.
Young, John B., 70.

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