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MAJOR JOSEPH WARREN PAINE.

REMARKS AT HIS FUNERAL,
Dec. 29, 1864,
By WM. S. STUDLEY,
PASTOR OF THE
TREMONT-STREET IVIETHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH.

^rtlj an g^pptitbi:?.

Printed for Private Circulation.
BOSTON:
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
1865.

Ce.^^.'^^5

JOSEPH WARREN PAINE,
MAJOR FOURTH UNITED-STATES COLORED CAVALRY,
13orn
In Boston, March 20, 1832;
IBtet)
In his Country's Service, at New Orleans,
Nov. 25, 1864.

His remains were deposited in Mount Auburn ; the Public
Obsequies being held in the Springfield-street Chapel,
Boston, Dec. 29, 1864.

He was ihe Colored Man^s Friend.

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MEMORIAL.

Our friend, whose mortal remains are before
us, and whose memory is specially dear to
all who knew him, — most dear to those who
knew him best, — was a true and tender
hearted man, a patriotic citizen, and a brave
and efficient soldier of freedom.
As a man, his large and w^arm affeftions
were peculiarly developed towards his inti
mate friends, and particularly towards the
dear ones of his father's household.
When but a boy of sixteen, — with the en
ergy and self-reliance of mature manhood, —
he left home to seek his earthly fortune
within the golden gate of California; and I
hold in my hand a transcript of his affedtion-
ate remembrances of the dear ones whom
he had left at home.

6 Memorial of
Let me read these lines to you, that you
may see how true and tender-hearted he
was, — how full of the kindliest domestic
affedtions. A VISION OF HOME.
Mj spirit is there ; the wanderer's heart
Is with you there to-daj;
My thoughts are now of my childhood's home
That is distant far away :
I see my father's care-worn face,
My mother's form is there ;
And I see my dear old aunt, as she sits
And knits in her easy-chair.
I peep into my sister's face,
And over her shoulders look,
As she sits in a nook by the chimney-place.
And quietly reads her book.
As wild as when I saw her last,
Methinks I see her now ;
Oh, light may the hand of sorrow fall
Upon that happy brow !
The little ones are hard at play,
And Jennie catches a fall ;
But she's up again, and now her laugh
Rings high above them all.
But Georgie has seen her sis go down,
And she shouts in childish glee ;
And little Nettie claps her hands,
As she sits on her father's knee.
Old Rover is there, but he listens in vain
For the sound of his master's call ;
And puss skips o'er the kitchen-floor.
As she plays with the worsted ball.

Major Joseph Warren Paine.
The father wheels his chair around.
And turns to the table, where
The Bible rests : he takes it down.
And reads, with anxious care,
That book which teaches us to look
Beyond the churchyard sod, —
That book on which we found our hopes
Of heaven and a God.
His features wear a smile, as he reads
The sacred page ; but now
A thought of his distant son has cast
A shadow o'er his brow.
The little ones have hushed their noise,
And ceased their childish play ;
Can it be that they, too, ever think
Of their brother far away?
But, hark ! what sound is it that breaks
Upon the night-air still,
That murmurs o'er the silent plain.
As it comes from the distant hill .?
It is the music, as it creeps.
Of the North Wind passing by,
As it hastens on its way, and sweeps
Through the trees with mournful cry.
The mother starts : her anxious ear
Has caught the wind's low wail ;
She thinks her only son may be
At the mercy of the gale ;
She kneels, and with a trembling voice,
And lips that are deathly white,
She prays the God that rules the storm
To watch o'er him to-night.
The father bends o'er the kneeling wife :
With voices joined as one,
They both put up a prayer to Heaven
To guide that wayward son.

Memorial of
With quivering lips, and accents low,
The prayer is finished ; when
They lift their eyes alike to heaven,
And breathe a deep "Amen."
Oh ! fear not ; for that mighty Hand,
That alone from death can save,
Will still, as Christ in times of old.
The tempest and the wave.
A blessing rests on those hallowed words
As they fall on the silent air ;
For a talisman to protedt her son
Is that mother's fervent prayer. j. w. p.

But he was not only a true and tender
hearted man, he was also a broad-minded,
patriotic citizen. He appreciated the bless
ings of citizenship under our beneficent con
stitutional Government. He had seen what
the spirit of civil and religious liberty had
done for New England, as well as what it
promised to do for the Pacific slopes; and
he had the political breadth of view, and the
patriotic heart, that were requisite to fill him
with holy desire to see our entire land re
deemed from the spirit of personal and polit
ical thraldom.
It was this holy desire which led him
to join the grand army of the Republic.

Major yoseph Warren Paine. 9
When the tocsin of war was rung by the
hand of treason, he felt that the time had
come for every man who realized the bless
ings of true liberty to declare himself, and to
take sides at once with the gathering forces
of freedom. In obedience to these convic
tions of duty, — though physically infirm at
the time, — he relinquished a lucrative office,
with all the endearments of' home and the
attachments of social life; and gave himself
at once and entirely to his country. How
he acquitted himself as a soldier, his com
rades have no need to be told; but I may
say to those of you who did not know him,
that he was fearless and untiring in the per
formance of every duty. Official receipts,
held by him at his death, show, that, by his
own personal energy and solicitations, he
enlisted more than five hundred able-bodied
men into the military service of the country.
I have reason to believe, that he was as
brave a man as ever drew a sword. He did
not know what flinching meant, vi^hen duty
demanded personal exposure. During the
Red-River Expedition of last spring, there

I o Memorial of
was an exigency which called for peculiar
resoluteness and daring; and he was the man
who volunteered and was chosen to meet
that exigency. A hasty letter, which he
addressed to his father just as he was about
to enter upon the hazardous undertaking
assigned him, will serve to show what man
ner of soldier he was.
Steamer " Meteor," Red Ri-ver, April 13.
My dear Father, — We are no-w exposed to the
fire of a battery on the river bank belo-w, and have
orders to pass it as a last and desperate resort. I
have volunteered to go into the pilot-house, and stay
with the pilots, while we run the gauntlet of their fire.
The pilot-house is always their mark, because they
hope thus to take the boat.
These men are both cowardly. They say to me,
" Major, we have seen you tried under fire : -we kno-w
that you are cool, and your presence will keep us so."
I know that the safety of the whole command devolves
on their keeping their posts ; and I feel that it is my
duty to stand by them, and see that they do it. If
alone, I know, that, if one is killed, the other -will run.
I shall keep him firm to his wheel at the peril of his
life. I write this, because I feel, that, if harm comes
to me, people will say, " What need was there of his
being in the pilot-house ? Why was he not sheltering
himself below with the other officers ? He was fool
hardy." It is to redeem my memory from this re-

Major yoseph Warren Paine. ii
preach, and spare you an added pang, that I make
this explanation. Should harm come to me, believe
my assurance in this solemn moment, that I have no
more serious regret than for the unhappiness that my
thoughtlessness may have caused you and my beloved
mother. Ever your affedtionate son, Joseph.
The postscript to this letter, written after
the danger was past, will show you how
entirely free this brave soldier was from the
spirit of braggadocio, and how his sensitive
and patriotic heart shrunk from having his
aftions made an objedl for the common
gaze. My dear Father, — I send you a letter, on the
opposite page, that was very hurriedly written under
very great excitement. I passed safely through the
ordeal, and received grateful thanks for the part I
played. But for the step taken, the boat would have
been abandoned to her fate. As it was, one of the
pilots was so unnerved, that I had to supply his place
at the wheel ; and the other one says, that, but for that,
he could never have got her through, — could not even
have remained at his post.
I wrote the letter, to be sent you in case of accident
to me, and did not intend to send it otherwise ; but
as refleftion suggests that I may at some time be simi
larly situated, without time to explain my motives, I

1 2 Memorial of
think it had better go, as it may throw light on actions
that might otherwise be misconstrued : for, while I
shall never needlessly expose my life, I hope I may
ever be ready to hazard it in the service of my country,
when my own sense of duty calls, even though it be
" without orders." I would rather not have this letter
shown (unless you think some of the nearest and
dearest at home have an equal interest with yourself) :
should harm come to me under similar circumstances,
it would then be useful. Above all, let no word of it
reach my wife, as it would unnecessarily alarm her.
Joseph.
But this loving man, this warm-hearted
friend, this intelligent patriot, this brave sol
dier, has left us. We are here to pay our
feeble tribute of respe6t to his memory.
Worn out with the arduous labors which
devolved upon him, after a brief farewell
visit to his home and friends, he returned to
his post in the army, only to fall asleep in
peace.
" He has fought his last battle :
No sound can awake him to glory again."
And now let us see what those who knew
him intimately say of him. Here is a letter
from the comrade in whose house he breathed
his last.

Major yoseph Warren Paine. 13
Headquarters, loth U.S. Heavy Artillery (Col'd),
Department of the Gulf.
New Orleans, Nov. 25, 1864.
Dear Mr. Shillaber, — I have to inform you of
the death of your friend and my friend, Major Joseph
W. Paine, Fourth United-States Colored Cavalry.
He died very unexpedtedly last night, at twelve o'clock,
in this city. The dodtors term the immediate cause
of his death congestive chills, though he was very
weak and sick when he arrived here from the North,
only three days ago. Not being well enough to join
his regiment at Port Hudson, he -went to our house,
at 45, Rampart Street, and died in my room. The
surgeon of my regiment. Dr. Mather, did all for him
that man could do ; and Major Mitchell, of his regi
ment, assistant provost-marshal general, Department
of the Gulf, did not leave him from the time he be
came dangerously ill until he died.
Major Mitchell had become much attached to Paine
(and indeed every one who knew him loved him), and
wept like a child when he was dead.
He was unconscious yesterday afternoon and eve
ning, and did not suffer. You knew Paine, and knew
how to appreciate his poef s soul, and knew how his
great brain has always been battling with his weak
body. You know what he has written, and how he
has talked ; how he was the life of a social gathering ;
you know how full of sharp satire are some of his
humorous essays and poems ; you remember, " God
keep our Women True," and know how grand and
sweet is that, and how tender. He was the colored
man's friend. He was everybody's friend. You

14 Memorial of
know how warm and true was the great heart that
no-w lies cold and still. If you should notice his
death with more than an ordinary " two-line," I should
be pleased to receive a copy of the paper. Yesterday
was Thanksgiving Day : we had only sadness in our
house. Very respedlfull}' your ob't servant,
Nathaniel Burbank,
\st Lieut., AH'g Adjt. \oth U.S. CoVdArfy.
Here is the testimony of a business as
sociate who knew and loved him like a
brother. New York, Dec. lo, 1864.
E. B. Paine, Esq.
My Dear Sir, — Your favor of 9th instant re
ceived. I cannot tell you how much satisfadlion it
gives me to know that our dear Joseph's wishes will
be carried out as he desired.
Joseph and I had been on most intimate terms
for the last six years. Our feelings and tastes were
very much alike, and we were more attached than the
majority of brothers. Even without any love between
us, I should have been proud to have known him ; for
his mental qualities were of the very highest. He was
the soul of every social circle ; and his death leaves a
void which, to his numerous friends, will never be
filled. The news of his death came with such crushing
suddenness, that it was terribly hard to realize ; but
now that a few days have passed, and we can think of

Major yoseph Warren Paine. \i^
it more soberly, we must acknowledge, that, although
so young in years, he had accomplished more than the
majority of men who live out the allotted days of man.
He was the most indefatigable worker I ever met.
Colonel Wilson, of his regiment (to whom his death is
a very great loss), informs me, that, on the Red-River
Expedition, Major Paine did the work of ten men.
Always at his post, never flinching from either work
or danger, he was most invaluable ; and this in the
teeth of the fadl that his health was gone, and that all
the ofiicers, when he proposecL^^T- with the expedi
tion, told, him that he was crazy to think of it, and that
the hospital was the best place for him.
To the colored people, he was the best of friends.
While up the Red River, in defiance of " red tape,"
he, at all hazards to himself, foraged for, and kept
supplied -with food, hundreds of poor women and
children who otherwise would have starved. And,
when the expedition returned, he, by dint of great
personal exertions, provided transportation for men,
women, and children, at a time when everybody de
clared the idea impossible, and that they would have
to be left.
But I will not dwell on his noble qualities. To
you, it is unnecessary ; while to myself, the more I
think of his greatness, the more painful is the thought
that -we shall see him no more.
Accept my heartfelt wishfes that you may be com
forted in this great afflidlion. Let us think, that, to
Joseph, it is a most happy release of his great mind
from his poor, weak, afflidled body.
In great sorrow, I am yours sincerely,
J. O. Halsey.

1 6 Memorial of
Here is another testimonial to his worth,
which I find in the " Saturday-Evening Ga
zette," and which is from the pen of one of
our best-known literary men, — an intimate
friend of our brother who has gone.
" In New Orleans, Nov. 25, of congestive chills,
Major Joseph W. Paine, Fourth United-States Colored
Cavalry. He had just returned to his post after a
brief furlough at the North, for his health ; leaving
here before he was suflSiciently recovered to endure the
fatigues of the service, and has fallen a vidtim to his
ardent devotion to duty. He was a brave and chiv-
alric spirit. Highly poetical in intelledt and tempera
ment, he -was naturally an enthusiast in this struggle
involving so much of human right and human prog
ress, and has distinguished himself in the cause, with
pen and sword ; having risen from the position of
lieutenant to that of major. Everybody loved him
for his warm-heartedness, his sincerity, his fidelity to
principle. He had no enemies but those opposed to the
cause he supported. Lieutenant Burbank, -whose friend
he was, and in whose room he died, does justice to his
worth, in a letter giving the account of his death ;
and his brother officers are all deeply aflecSed by his
loss. As a poetical -writer, he was better known in
tliis vicinity by the nam de -plume of ' Peregrine ; ' by
which name he has appeared several times in our own
columns, — only last week in the little satire, ' Look
out for the Spoons,' and previously in ' God keep our
Women True,' a noble poem that was copied through
out the country. He was remarkably happy as a

Major yoseph Warren Paine. 17
versifier, and was always a favorite through the hu
mor that charafterized his produdlions, — pointed, but
never malignantly sharp. Though a young man, his
life has been a very eventful one, and has closed at a
period of g^-eat promise."
The following, bearing the initials of Colo
nel Wilson, of his regiment, was published in
" The Army and Navy Journal " of Jan. 8,
1865, bearing eloquent testimony to his per
sonal and public worth : —
OBITUARY.
MAJOR JOSEPH W. PAINE.
The knights are dust, ^
And their good swords are rust :
Their souls are with the saints, we trust. Coleridge.
Another has been added to the mighty martyrdom
of the Rebellion ; another costly gift presented to the
American Union ; another noble name appended to
the long list of those -who have fallen in this holy w^ar
and modern crusade against rebellion. Joseph War
ren Paine, who died suddenly in New Orleans, La.,
Nov. 25, 1864, was born in Boston, March, 1832.
He was a son of Elias B. Paine, an old merchant of
that city. For several years he was associate editor
and publisher with William Matthews (now Professor
of Belles Lettres in the University of Chicago) of the
" Yankee Blade," — a journal overflowing with the
" best things " to be found in the columns of the news-

1 8 Memorial of
paper press of that day. More recently, Paine was
connedled with several of the leading life-insurance
companies of New York, but continued to contribute
fugitive pieces — some of great beauty and deep feel
ing, others abounding in humor — to some of the
principal Boston and New- York journals. He entered
the service, in the summer of 1863, as first lieutenant
Thirteenth New- York Cavalry, and served, with ability
and success, in Virginia, gaining great credit for the
persistence with which he hunted Mosby, the guerilla.
He, on one occasion, chased him for one hundred
hours. Early in 1864, he received, through the colonel
of the regiment, a commission as major of the Fourth
United-States Colored Cavalry, and at once proceeded
to the Department of the Gulf to join his new com
mand. He probably recruited more men for the
corps d'Afrique than any other officer in it. During
the Red-River Campaign, he was indefatigable. His
plan of recruiting was peculiar. Taking a squad of
colored cavalry, he would go outside of the lines,
capture all the horses and mules he could lay hands
on, and, mounting thereon all the recruits he could
get, march back to camp. It was amusing to see him
march his " ebony brigade " past the " starchy regi
ments " from Northern States. " Holloa ! what have
you got there ? " would be the salutation. " Horace
Greeley's body-guard," he would laughingly reply,
and march on. And, what is more, he would not
bring the husband and father, and leave the family to
suffer. If he promised a negro to bring his family
to New Orieans, the family came, general and special
orders to the contrary notwithstanding. His perse
verance was wonderful. It was no use to say " No."

Major yoseph Warren Paine. 19
On one pretext or another, he would go back, until he
obtained his desire. On the Red-River Campaign, he
was refused an order which he thought necessary for
the good of the corps and his recruits, at least six
times ; but, not discouraged, he applied again, and ob
tained his wishes. The writer of this has seen him
" amidst the clangor of resounding arms," and no man
could display more dauntless courage. In August, it
was evident that he had over-worked himself; and he
obtained a furlough, and came to the North to recruit
his health ; but, instead of doing so by taking rest, he
entered the political campaign, supporting the Admin
istration with pen and voice. The second -week pf
November, he returned to New Orleans, before his
healtli w^as sufficiently restored ; and within a week of
his arrival there was a corpse. His remains were
embalmed, and sent to Massachusetts for interment.
Siich is the story of the short career of a man, by
nature a philanthropist, on principle an abolitionist, —
a man who had no enemies but those opposed to the
good cause which he supported. Everybody loved
him for his warm-heartedness, his sincerity, and his
fidelity to principle. His social traits were of the
kindest description. Full of song and story, of wit
and humor, he was the delight of every circle in which
he moved. No officer in his regiment was so popular ;
and they, in common with his troops of friends, de
plore his early death, — as much " dead on the field"
as if he had been struck down by a rebel bullet. A
grateful country will honor his memory ; for
" Who dies in vain
Upon his country's war-fields, and within
The shadow of her altars .? " j. G. w.

20 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
Such, my friends, was this brave and in
telligent citizen-soldier. And now, as we
" commit his body to the ground, earth to
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," instead
of being inconsolable at his loss, let us be
thankful that we ever had him; and, though
it be with aching hearts, let us say, with the
good old patriarch of Uz, " The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be
the name of the Lord ! "

APPENDIX.

The following communication from the pen of Major
Paine, is given as a specimen of his vigor as a -writer
and his earnestness in support of a cause in which he
was interested. Aware of the valuable service pf
General Banks, though he was not intimately asso
ciated with him, he could not, in silence, listen to
open and covert attacks that -were being made regard
ing him. Coming, as the vindication did, unsolicited,
it had the greater effedl, and did much to relieve the
public mind from the doubt that, for a while, threatened
it. The ad: was in keeping with his entire charadter.
Generous and noble-spirited, no w^rong escaped him
unrebuked, and no opportunity for vindicating the
wronged did he allow to pass unimproved ; and this
quality of mind and heart drew him more zealously to
the support of those principles, in the defence of
which, he ultimately gave up his life.
[Prom the Boston fournal, OtS. 6.]
DEFENCE OF GENERAL BANKS.
Gentlemen, — A lingering respedl for the time-
honored but apparently obsolete maxim. Fiat jus-
titia, forces me to an indignant protest against the
falsehoods in circulation at the expense of General N.

22 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
P. Banks. Perhaps no man has ever more completely
tested the worthlessness of even well-earned popularity,
or illustrated the fadi, that the idol of yesterday may
become the foot-ball of to-day.
Most of us can remember when the streets of Bos
ton blazed with bonfires in honor of his elevation to
the highest office in the gift of the Commonwealth, and
can go back to the time when his eledlion as Speaker
of the House was thought an honor to the State.
Now the most astounding calumnies are current
respedling both his public and private charadler. I
am aware that it is generally in questionable taste to
undertake the public defence of a man, except in diredl
reply to specific charges.
I know that Peter Pindar's ostler never thought of
greasing the horse's teeth till the priest's question un
fortunately suggested it to him, and fully understand
that " a defence" may often call attention to otherwise
unnoticed or forgotten scandal ; but the universal slan
ders in the present case make it an exception.
On returning from his department, one finds himself
beset with innumerable inquiries respecEling the military
capacity, honesty, temperance, &c., of the general
commanding ; such as, " If it is true that he is so very
intemperate?" — "If he really made so much money
out of his cotton speculations on Red River?" and
kindred inquiries, — all honest enough in intention, but
calculated to tempt a man who knows their want of
foundation into kicking the questioner.
In this state of affairs, one is forced to take up the
pen, under the pressure of that common sense of jus
tice that naturally impels us to defend any grossly

Appendix. 23
slandered man, — be he friend or foe. It is hard to
believe that even the adts and motives of Lincoln can
have been more misrepresented in the South than
those of N. P. Banks have been in Massachusetts.
But, asks one, how can such stories be circulated
without some groundwork of truth ? Bless your sim
ple soul ! listen to a —
RECIPE FOR ruining A REPUTATION.
Give a man twenty odd years of successful political
life with its consequent enemies and slanders, then
make a major-general of him, and place him over
regular army officers, in a department where there are
troops from different sedlions , animated by a rivalry
that too frequently engenders jealousy and detradtion ;
and, if he comes out of it unspotted, it will be after the
millennium. Any patent nostrum vender who chooses to take
up the above can safely warrant it " infallible," and
guarantee to refund money, in case of dissatisfadtion.
Failures and accidents entirely beyond human control
are gravely placed to his account. The only thing for
which he does not appear to be held diredtly respon
sible in his department is the weather. He certainly
was made answerable for the fadl, that the Red River
-was lower at the season of our operations than it had
been for many years. That circumstance alone
changed all our plans, and necessitated a retreat.
Our other disasters, not dependent on that, hinged
on mismanagement in a corps not under his super
vision. Where he was things were kept straight.
Where he was not " somebody blundered." Even

24 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
these mistakes were sometimes retrieved by him in
cases apparently the most hopeless. At the time of
our " stampede, " he was guilty of condudt that many
other major-generals never descended to ; viz., riding,
with his -whole staff", to within thirty yards of the vidlo-
rious rebel columns, in a last attempt to rally his men.
His presence there changed panic and rout to an
orderly retreat. When the general cry was, " We
cannot save the navy," he said, " We won't desert it
as long as there is a man left to shoulder a musket."
When the idea of the dam that finally floated our
boats -was almost universally ridiculed, he had the
sagacity to appreciate its importance and pradlicability,
and ordered its immediate construdlion. To the com
mon croak, They will meanwhile cut off" our supplies,
and starve us into submission, he answered, " We can
find a new channel, or re-open the old one."
When they moaned, " We must surrender: we are
hemmed in on every side," his reply was, "Never ! we
will fight our way out." Remember, for a moment,
how universal was the belief that he was hopelessly
entangled, and that the loss of his army was inevitable.
So thoroughly confident of our capture were the rebels
at one time, that they ceased firing on our boats ; re
garding it as the destrudtion of their own property.
Think of all this, and ask yourself who evoked rebel
execrations and loyal cheers, by bringing out that
army ! He has been charged with the weightiest sins
of omission and commission that he could have shifted
to other shoulders at will ; but perhaps because he
thought them already overburdened, or his own strong
enough to bear all, he has held his peace, and suf
fered in silence.

Appendix. 25
The writer is unbiassed by friendship ; for he has
enjoyed no intimate social relation with the general.
At tl-ie same time, his business has been of a nature to
bring him into such frequent contadt with the subjedt
of this notice, as to afford unusual opportunities for
the study of personal habits and charadler. Any sug
gestion of intemperance on his part is utterly false.
During at least thirty conversations with him, there
was never even a perceptible odor of wine in his
breath. The other stories are equally absurd. Sane
people have adlually asked about his courage. They
might as w^ell question that of Hooker.
On the Red-River Expedition, the writer was en
gaged in recruiting blacks for cavalry. This duty
imposed on him the necessity of separating families,
or the embarrassing alternative of assuming the care
of a large number of helpless -women and children,
until they could be properly forwarded to a place of
safety. The latter course was chosen, but could never
have been carried out without the heartiest co-operation
on the part of the general commanding. The man
who has not found a moment to spare from public
duties-, for his own defence, had always time to listen
to the cry of suffering humanity, and devise some
means for its alleviation. There -vyere abuses innu
merable to redress, questions of rights, protedtion,
food, and transportation, to settle. These were sub
mitted at all hours of the day or night with a frequency
and pertinacity that might well have wearied one so
overtasked ; but never did they fail to receive the
promptest attention.
A single illustration of this spirit will suffice for

26 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
those familiar with the usual interminable delays at
tendant on red-tape adtion, " through the regular
channels." A representation was made, that the igno
rance of many of the blacks prevented the re-union
of families separated by the pradtice of sending the
"contrabands" (women, children, and rejedled men)
and the "recruits" (able-bodied men) on different
boats. "Send them by the same boats." — "That cannot
be done under existing orders," and the objedtion was
briefly stated.
" That shall be differently arranged," was the reply.
In the press of business at that time, it was feared the
matter would be forgotten or delayed till adlion was
useless ; but, an hour after, the general halted his
-whole train from a gallop, to say, " Major, the order
has been issued : you can send your people by any
boat." Officers intrusted with the care of contrabands can
sorrowfully testify that few major-generals have found
time to exhibit such humane consideration for " nig
gers." Many here say, " We were so sorry to give up
Banks ! We had such confidence in him that it was
very hard to think we had been so deceived."
Why, then, " give him up " ? He is, and has been,
worthy of all trust. Believe one who knows his course
in the South better than you can, in the assertion, that
in spite of all the aspersions on his courage, tempe
rance, and honesty, there is not a braver, soberer, or
more incorruptible general in the service.
Yours in the interest of justice, j. w. p.

Appendix. 27
The foregoing is the longest of his prose produc
tions that we have at hand. His manhood ripened in
a pradtical business atmosphere, though his early tastes
showed a strong proclivity for literary pursuits ; and
he took some steps towards their cultivation. He was,
for a time, part-proprietor and assistant-editor of a
Boston literary paper, that enjoyed a distinguished
reputation during his continuance w^ith it. His cor
respondence was not extensive ; living as he did, in
immediate association with his friends till his entrance
upon business, correspondence -was unnecessary. Such
letters as he did write, in the lapses of employment,
were charadlerized by the warmest and kindest feeling.
He never forgot his friends : they were a part of his
life, and he was always zealous for their goodj. His
letters to his father breathe the most dutiful and affec
tionate spirit. He is the kind father's " boy," whether,
-when sick and disheartened, on the hills of California,
or as the patriot engaged in his country's service,
pouring his fervent hope and earnest resolution into
that faithful father's ear, acknowledging him as the
inspirer and example of his condudt. But, in the re
sources of rhyme, he was most prolific ; and in these
his humor was most manifest. It may be said of him^
however, that, possessing great powers, he was too
apt to trifle with the Muse. His harp was for ever
sounding those lighter notes that do not please the
judicious, but which move multitudes to mirth ; yet
his poems were full of melody. The wildest of them,
that were turned by quaint and ludicrous contrasts or
figures to make men laugh, were charadterized by true
poetic fervor and feeling ; and none could enjoy the

28 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
climax of his pleasantry, without regretting the loss of
the something better which it promised. What began
as a diamond would too often end as charcoal, — the
same mind manifest, but the sparks of wit at the close
unlike the scintillations of the true gem foreshadowed
at the outset. Yet no immoral thought was seen in
his wit, however grotesque. The frivolity and wrong
of life were pundtured by his pen ; pretence was hum
bled ; and hypocrisy, unmasked. But his satire was
kindly though keenly administered ; and, in lashing
sin, he did not immolate the sinner. We append a
few of his charadleristic poems illustrating several of
his moods, which are good illustrations of his style.

SONG OF THE EXILE.
The barren rocks are clustered round.
And the mountain-tops rear high
Their rugged crags, whose snow-capped heads
Are lost in the distant sky.
I hear the sound of the waterfall.
And see, in the gorge below.
The whitened peaks of upreared tents.
Like feathery flakes of snow.
My heart is sad, — I close my eyes.
And behold another scene :
I look on the smoke of peaceful homes.
And the church on the village green.
There's a cot that stands on the river's brink,
I gaze on it now with pride :
The air is sweet with the creeping flowers
That cling to its mossy side.

Appendix.

There's a gentle one by the cottage side :
She leans on the window near ;
And, through the fingers that shade her face.
There glistens a pearly tear.
Would you know why the burning tear-drops roll.
And the brow is stamped with care .¦"
She is thinking now of an absent one,
Whose place should have been there.

There are footsteps light on the sanded floor.
And childish forms are there.
And the merry tones of their thoughtless laugh
Ring out on the sunny air ;
But sad to my lonely spirit now
Come those fancied sounds of mirth :
Oh ! why was I tempted by love of gold,
To stray from that happy hearth ?

ExpeAant eyes looked out for me,
'Neath the shade of the hanging vine;
And faces were bright, as I drew nigh.
With smiles that were ever mine :
The little ones came round my knee.
With many a witching wile.
To gladden my heart with a lisping word,
A kiss, or a pleasant smile.

Those loved ones, perchance, are scattered now.
And that hearthstone's lone and cold ;
But the scene is imaged back to me
As in pleasant days of old :
Their faces come in my midnight dreams.
And soothe my aching brow.
And daily cross me in my walks, —
They float around me now.

30 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
Their voices fall upon my ear
Like some remembered strain
Of melody, and softly breathe,
" Come back ! come back again ! "
It is but a dream ; for I look around.
And, instead of the village green,
I see the crags of the mountain-top.
And the shade of the dark ravine.

That home is distant now, — perchance
I ne'er may see it more :
My bones may strew the mountain-gorge.
Or whiten on the shore.
Or sink to rest in the river's bank.
Unwept, unnoticed, save
By the loathsome desert wolf, that tears
My corse from its lonely grave. PEREGRINE.

GOD KEEP OUR WOMEN TRUE.
" What can a woman do " in war.'
You ask in tones of scorn :
Her voice has swayed its crimson tides
Since first the world was born.
If one fair Helen made a war.
What may a thousand do i"
To loyal purposes and aims,
God keep our women true !

When, in the battle's deadliest shock.
Our country's vanquished foes
Reeled faint and bleeding 'neath the weight
Of overwhelming blows.

Appendix.

The fiery words of Southern dames.
From lips too proud to sue,
Nerved up their faltering arms afresh, —
God keep our women true !
To that high purpose of the soul
That wielded Judith's blade ;
That fired the heart of Joan of Arc ;
Or Saragossa's Maid ;
That drove the dagger of Corday,
And bore our mothers through
The fiery days of Freedom's strife, —
God keep our women true !
Their heroism still survives.
Though no ensanguined hand
Flings out the banner, waves the torch.
Or bears the deadly brand.
It dwells in gentlest breasts, and shines
Through eyes of tenderest blue
That look those sad but firm farewells, —
God keep our women true !
Its earnest trust has beautified
The darkest of our days ;
It speaks its scorn of coward hearts.
It sounds the hero's praise ;
It twines around our tattered flag
The godlike faith, that grew
Beside the Saviour's cross and tomb, —
God keep our women true !
The spirit of their deathless deeds
Is breathing round us now :
It builds the soldier's monument;
It laves the wounded brow ;

Major yoseph Warren Paine.
It casts its jewels in the plate,
And sends its loved anew
From hearths already desolate, —
God keep our women true !
O weary aching hearts behind !
O lone and suffering ones.
Who breathe the prayer, and waft the sigh
For husbands, lovers, sons !
Though lips may quiver, hands be clasped.
And tears the lids bedew,
Choke down the coward summons home, —
God keep our women true !

GRAVE THOUGHTS.
I have often thought, that it mattered not
Where my form, in death, was laid, —
Whether sunk in the wave with the burial shot.
Or covered by sexton's spade.
And yet methinks it were pleasant now.
To be lain at last away.
Where the weeping-willow's pendent bough
Might hang o'er my earth-worn clay ;
Where friends might come to cast a flower
On the grave where my ashes sleep ;
And sometimes spend by the dead an hour.
To sigh, or perchance to weep.
It may be selfish to wish to recall
A feeling of pain or regret.
Or wish a tear at my name to fall ;
Yet I would not that all forget.

Appendix.

THE BALL.
I waved amid the surges
Of the wild and joyous dance.
Where sighs and fervent pressures
Returned the sparkling glance ;
And starry lamps were gleaming
In radiance fair and bright.
Where imitation jewels
Threw back their sparkling light.

Gay manufaftured roses
Were wreathed in glossy hair ;
And scented handkerchiefs flung out
Their perfume on the air ;
And merry feet moved gayly
To music's softened tone.
Where spangled dresses glistened.
And plated bracelets shone.

Then came the supper-table ;
And viands fled the sight ;
And coffee-stains were fatal
To kids of snowy white.
Fair hands were pressed, and words of love
From half-fllled mouths were muttered ;
And gravy-covered plates were tipped,
And — ladies' dresses buttered !

Then changed the scene : the music ceased.
Bright faces and fair shapes
Were buried in the mystic depths
Of most ungraceful capes.
.5

34 Major yoseph Warren Paine.
The ball-room angels were transformed
In a(ftion, grace, and features ;
And bundled off' in hoods and shawls.
Like any common creatures.
1852.

LOOK OUT FOR THE SPOONS!
When you see a young man overwhelmingly pious.
Distressingly moral, and morbidly good ;
Who fervently groans for the gospelless heathen.
And can't without table-grace swallow his food ;
Whose prayers for his foes, from the depths of his closet.
Are audible clearly in basement and hall ;
Who "bosses" a Bible-class, quotes from the sermon.
And says we're frail earth-worms, corruptible all, —
Consider that youth, O my friend unconverted !
The brightest and best of terrestrial boons ;
But, while holding him up as a pattern to Tommy,
Look out for your daughter in teens — and the spoons !

If your wife is a merciless dragon of virtue.
Who doubts the Lucrecias that move in her sphere ;
Who metes to the viftims of trust and affedtion
The measure of scorn, and the merciless sneer;
Who prates of her ring, and the vows that it symbols.
While casting a stone where the fallen one lies.
With a smile for the weakness displayed by our Saviour
Who said to the stricken repentant, "Arise! "
Believe, though she's changed your original lunars
Of honey to somewhat acidulous moons,
That virtue like hers is a full compensation, —
But keep a sharp eye on the marital spoons !

Appendix.
When you hear politicians, in times like the present.
Contending for strift constitutional rights ;
Exposing the motes in the eyes of opponents
Regardless of beams in their visual lights ;
And proving, by incontrovertible logic.
The nation must die, and our flag trail in dust.
Because there is not, in the whole constitution.
Provision for warding the murderous thrust :
As they harp on the Government sins and corruptions.
Like hand-organs set to unvarying tunes.
Thank God for such patriots true and unselfish ;
But — lock up the choicest political spoons !
1864.

YALE