Confederate Veteran

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Amite County, one of the oldest counties in Mississippi, sent about one thousand of her noblest sons to the Confederate army. In honor of them there stands in the town of Liberty a Confederate monument with the names of three hundred and fifty boys who, with unfaltering courage and devotion amid the shock of battle, went to their unmarked graves with the songs of their country on their lips. No names shine with more resplendent luster upon the pages of American history than those written across the sides of this weather beaten slab. The devotion that is felt for this monument is characteristic of a people who have always been true to every cause to which they owed allegiance, not because of its sculptural workmanship, but because it is a stone of memory erected by loving hands under trying circumstances. It was built in 1871 during the regime of the carpetbag and scalawag. About one hundred and twenty of the thousand soldiers who enlisted in Amite County, Ark., still living and eighty seven widows meet at this monument annually and hold memorial services in reverence to their dead comrades and loved ones.

E. A. Causey, of Liberty, who sends the data for this notice, writes: "As we look upon the little band of maimed and weather beaten heroes and see how sacred they hold this little monument, it makes me feel that we Sons and Daughters of the Confederacy do not appreciate their patriotism as we should, and we should strive to make their Reunions a success in every particular, for in a few years their happy meetings on earth will be ended."

To say that this was the first Confederate monument erected may be misleading. Bolivar, Tenn., claims to have the first.

Without referring to dates, the impression prevails that the Bolivar monument was erected several years before this one at Liberty. The VETERAN would like data about monuments erected previous to 1875. This Liberty monument was certainly a fine credit to its people by its erection at that time. The granite foundation is eight feet square and four feet high. It is five feet square at the base, and tapers gracefully to the top. Cannons are carved at the four corners.

D. H. Chapman, 211 Boylston Avenue N., Seattle, Wash., requests that any surviving members of Company B ("Red River Rebels"), Capt. James A. Wise, kindly write to him.
Confederate Veteran March 1911



Mrs. John J. Crawford, Director for New York, $100. Contributed by New York Chapter, No. 103, U. D. C., New York.

Mrs. Thomas W. Keitt, Director for South Carolina, $99.01. Contributed by John C. Calhoun Chapter, No. 945, U. D. C. Clemson College, $4, Dick Anderson Chapter, No. 75, U. D. C., Sumter, $5, Hartsville Chapter, U. D. C., $5.

Sale of seals: Charleston Chapter, No. 4, U. D. C Charleston, S. C., $26, Wade Hampton Chapter, No. 29, U. D. C., Columbia, S. C., $51 John C. Calhoun Chapter, No, 945, U. D. C., Clemson College, S. C., $5.20, Arthur Manigault Chapter, No. 63, U. D. C., Georgetown, S. C., $5, Lancaster Chapter, No. 462, U. D. C Lancaster, S. C., $5.50, Dick Anderson Chapter, No. 75, U. D. C., Surnter, S. C., $6.15.

Schools: Courtenay School, Charleston, S. C., $6.50, James Island School, $5.60, Dillon School, $1, Cheraw. Public School, $11.80, Mullins Graded School, $2.86, Greer Schools, $4.40.

Mrs. John W. Clapp, Director for Tennessee, $61. Contributed by R. E. Lee Chapter, No. 9, U. D. C. Per year, Tenn., $10, John Sutherland Chapter, No. 1019, U. D. C., Ripley, Tenn., $5, George W. Gordon Chapter, U. D. C., Waverly, Tenn., $2, Confederate Historical Association, Memphis, Tenn., $5.

Sale of seals: C. M. Goodlett Chapter, No. 362, U. D. C., Clarksville, Tenn., $7, Franklin Chapter, No. 14, V. D. C., Franklin, Tenn., $2, Zollicoffer Fulton Chapter, No. 16, U. D. C.,Fayetteville, Tenn., $2, John Lauderdale Chapter, No. 356, U. D. C., Dyersburg, Tenn,, $2, Forrest Chapter, No. 206, U. D. C., Brownsville, Tenn., $2.50, John C. Vaughn Chapter, No. 1244, U. D. C., Sweetwater, Tenn., $5, George W. Gordon Chapter, No. 461, U. D. C., Waverly, Tenn., $1, Mrs. Alex B. White, Paris, Tenn., $17.50.

Mrs. Thomas S. Bocock, Director for Virginia, $2.50. Contributed by Greensville Chapter, No. 1247, U. D. C., Emporia. A. S. Johnston Camp, No. 654, U. C. V., B,aird, Tex., $5. Interest credited on deposits January 1, 1911, $185.61. Amount on hand at last report, $20,010.87. Total to be accounted for, $20,463.99. Expenses.

H. A. Herbert, telegraphic expenses in reporting contract with sculptor to Little Rock Convention, $5.64,

American Surety Company of New York, premium on Treasurer's bond for year 1911, $62.50. Balance on hand February 1, 1911, $20,395.85. WALLACE STREATER, Treasurer.



The battle of Fishing Creek was fought by Gens. George B., Crittenden and Felix K. Zollicoffer, Confederates, against the Federal forces by Gen. George H. Thomas. The day went sorely against the Confederates. General Zollicoffer was killed early in the action. He was one of the most brilliant and beloved men in Tennessee. He was a member of Congress for two terms, and was a forceful writer and an eloquent orator. At the time of his unfortunate demise his wife had been dead several years, leaving him the sole protector of six little girls.

The troops engaged on the Confederate side were largely from Tennessee, with the 15th Mississippi and the l6th Alabama Regiments. General Zollicoffer fell under a large oak tree on the land of a Mr. Logan, near what is now called Nancy post office. This oak tree still retains its vigor and strength, and bears barrels of acorns.

About one hundred and fifty Confederates were killed, and most of them were buried in a mound seventy five feet from the Zollicoffer oak. The tree has borne General Zollicoffer's name since the day of the battle.

Three quarters of a mile away from the Zollicoffer oak and the graves of the Confederates is a national cemetery, where eight hundred Federals were interred. Each year people in the neighborhood decorate these graves. * * *

The land on the south side of the Zollicoffer oak is owned by William Burton, Esq., whose father was a Southern sympathizer. Mr. Burton and his bighearted wife felt kindly disposed to the memory of the Confederate soldiers who there died for the Southland. In 1892 a little girl was deposited by the stork in the log cabin of the Burtons. Somewhere in a paper they saw the name Dorothy, and the father and mother thought it would be nice to have a Dorothy, and so they named her, their only child.

When Dorothy was nine years old she heard the bands playing at the National Cemetery, and saw the neighbors go by on horseback and in vehicles, carrying great lots of flowers. She had been told ghost stories about the graves across her father's fence, and the superstitious grannies in the neighborhood spoke of men clad in gray who walked through the forest at night and fired their guns as they did many years before, and how these phantom men marched and countermarched at night and fought over the battle again, and then at dawn went back into their graves under the shadow of the great oak where their general had died. The little girl would play upon the mound in the forest where she was told dead soldiers slept, and imagined she could hear the voices of those longburied warriors speaking to each other in the silence of the gloomy, dark forest. In her gentle heart came the thought that if the soldiers in the big cemetery had flowers on their graves, why should not her neighbor soldiers in the woods over her father's fence have some on theirs? And the dear little soul hunted under the trees for wild flowers, and barefooted waded the brook at the bottom of the hill and gathered ferns that luxuriated on its banks, and from the garden of her mother she plucked roses, hollyhocks, and honeysuckles and carried them by the armful and arranged them on the mound where her dead friends slept. She had often listened to the story of the death of the Confederate chieftain under the big oak where she and the squirrels found so many acorns, and with her deft childish hands she made wreaths and tied them around the Zollicoffer oak, and month after month in the spring and summer time she kept the graves and the big tree decorated with these memorials of her devotion to the stranger dead, some of whose graves were in her father's pasture and some in the cornfield on the slope westward from her father's home.One day a soldier and a lady and gentleman friend of his drove up to the Burton homestead and asked to be shown the Zollicoffer oak and the mound where Zollicoffer's men were buried. In a little while under the big oak, sitting on a log, these strangers drew from the little mountain girl and her parents the story of the decorations which for months she had placed on the hallowed spot. They saw the withered flowers and the faded wreaths. They kissed the little child and filled her hands with bright silver coins, and promised her that some day they would come again and build a monument to her dead heroes, and out in the forest find where each Confederate was buried, and bring his dust and lay it in the mound where the majority of their comrades had so long slept in one unmarked grave.

The soldier, the friend of her soldiers, told her he would send her to school, give her an education, and make her a school teacher, so she could care for herself and her father and mother when they became too old to work.

In Louisville in 1905 there was a great Confederate Reunion. The little girl and her father were sent for, money was forwarded to provide the little girl with city clothing, and she and her father took a peep into the wide, wide world and saw the renowned leaders of her forgotten dead. She heard the music of many bands playing the airs to which her soldiers had marched, and felt the earth tremble with the tread of thousands of men who had fought as her dead friends fought, and she listened with rapture to the shouts of those survivors who, forty years before, had marched with the warriors who now slept in a forest near her home, and who, when the story of her sweet devotion to their comrades was told, rent the air with their shouts and acclaim. Those who had brought her away from her home to let her feast her eyes on this strange sight and wondrous scenes of the great city begged her to remain and secure an education, but it was not so to be. In her heart had sprung up a love for a mountain lad who had been her playmate and helped her gather flowers and arrange wreaths for the lonely soldiers' graves and the great oak where this Confederate hero died, and to her marriage was dearer than learning, and Dorothy Burton made life's bargain to love and cherish Walter Hudson.

After a while a little girl baby came to bless the home of the youthful pair. The father and mother had eschewed family lines for Dorothy's name, and why should she not do the same? And, remembering the great oak which they called Zollicoffer Oak, there came into her mind the thought of a name for her baby, connecting in some way with the sad, pathetic history of the majestic tree that stood where the Confederate chief fell and which she loved with a great love and which had now become a part of her very self, so she declared her baby must be called Zollie Hudson.

Good neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. V. K. Logan, saw the little mother at Nancy post office, and inquired what name had been given the stranger. When told it was Zollie, after the big oak, they said: "Don't stop there, call her Zollie Tree Hudson." And thus it was.

The child and her parents, who had watched the graves, on October 22, 1910, saw all their dreams and visions realized, and amidst a great host of Kentuckians and distinguished Confederates, with two daughters of General Zollicoffer, now brilliant and honored women, she witnessed the unveiling of a magnificent monument to Zollicoffer and his men, and when the mother, with Zollie Tree in her arms and the arms of General Zollicoffer's daughter around her waist, was presented to five thousand Kentucky men and women as the heroine of Zollicoffer Park, there came into her heart a joy that words could not. measure and made her love more than ever her soldier friends who rested beside the rail fence that divided her home from the forest where they and General Zollicoffir died amid the dampness and darkness of the Sunday morning long, long ago.

(It is clear to those best informed that the author of the foregoing, not named even incidentally, is the man who provided young Dorothy Burton with "city clothes" and gave her and her father the trip to Louisville and who offered to educate her. It was not expected to devote more space to this subject so soon, but the story is too pathetic to lose, and the grand oak by which General Zollicoffer fell is given with the story. The park of one acre, including the Zollicoffer monument, and the soldier mound referred to, now marked by a marble tablet, are just back of the man standing by the tree. EDITOR CONFEDERATE VETERAN.)


(Read at the Lee birthday celebration at Goodwyn Institute, Memphis, January 19,1911.)

Here closed the scene. The grim march of the years

Broke with a sudden halt, and men stood still

And questioned each of each with gaunt eyed fears

If this were his, their peerless leader's will.

And then a silence lay o'er all the land,

Like that which comes when all the day is done.

'Twas passing strange to miss that strong command

Within the camp before the set of sun.

Had he forgot? Their chieftain, who had led

Through four long years to victory or death?

Had he forgot these who had fought and bled ?

Nay! Sooner God forgot to give them breath.

Ah! Stood they there to answer man to man,

The victor and the vanquished, there alone.

Apart from all within that narrow span,

In that white vista fame had made her own.

Apart from all the armies that had thrilled

A listening world with clash of might with right,

It was the victor's eyes that softly filled.,

The vanquished spoke as spake a royal knight.

And then the great heart of the leader broke

Broke with his anguish for his vanquished South,

And that dim twilight of defeat awoke

Within the hush that cooled the cannon's mouth.

And then a tumult rose like that hoarse cry

That hails to victory resting on its sheaf,

'Twas but from ragged legions trooping by

The conquered Southland's farewell to her chief.

And so they passed upon that April day,

With his last message thrilling through the band,

To warm again their hearthstones, cold and gray,

To till again their wasted, blood stained land.

But who shall say they failed? From every field

Denial of the fiat thrives and lives

With that rich bounty of abundant yield,

The largess that a peaceful country gives.

No menial shoulder to the wheel was bared,

No craven soul out of the dark to cry,

And through the flames of Reconstruction fared

Unscathed the flower of truth that cannot die.

Ay! Who shall say they failed ? Tribunals pause

To do them honor, both the small and great,

And in the courts where speak the highest laws

Decree confirms their ancient rights of State.

Do they forget? O, poet, when you seek

A hero song for ages yet to be,

Above the star pricked by fame's highest peak

Find there the star of Lee.

112 Confederate Veteran March 1911Confederate Veteran March 1911



In a recent issue of the VETERAN Mr. C. B. Haley gave an interesting account of the signal honors paid the soul stirring strains of "Dixie" on two occasions, when he was present, in Canada and in Mexico. This calls to mind an instance of loving, enthusiastic tribute to the imperishable song of the South in our sister republic of France. At the unveiling of the Confederate monument at Oxford, Miss., on Decoration Day a few years ago the Hon. Charles Scott made an eloquent address, which I have since preserved with no slight degree of pride in both the incident and the orator. He said:

Go where you will within the confines of the civilized world and the memory of Southern valor and chivalry is esteemed. 

It was my good fortune to see this fact strikingly exemplified during the past season. One night in the early part of October I was seated, with my wife and daughter, in the rotunda of the Grand Hotel at Paris, one of the stateliest and handsomest hotels in all the world. It was brilliantly illuminated, of course, with electricity, but something like one thousand incandescent lights were, on ordinary occasions, always held in reserve. This rotunda with the adjoining cafe and dining hall constitute one immense room with a setting capacity, I imagine, for fifteen hundred persons. Every available space was occupied. The scene was a most brilliant and striking one. The fragrance of rare flowers, mingling with delicate Parisian perfume, the handsome toilettes, the costly and sparkling gems worn by queenly women, but almost dimmed by the radiant luster of their starlike eyes, the commanding presence of brave men, soldiers, diplomats, and civilians from all parts of the world, the soft tones of the inspiring music arid the gorgeous colors in the background all combined instinctively to recall the historic ball at Brussels on eve of battle between Wellington and Napoleon, when, Byron tells us,

'There was a sound of revelry by night, 
And Belgium's capital had gathered then 
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men, 
A thousand hearts beat happily, and when 
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, 
And all went merry as a marriage bell.' 

Entranced with the brilliant and beautiful scene, we enjoyed the full, sweet tones of the inspiring music, as the splendid band rendered many artistic and popular airs. These included a number of national anthems, among them those of Germany, Great Britain, and the United States. And then rang out the 'Marseillaise,' the national hymn of the great French Republic. The crowd enjoyed all, but gave no audible or visible signs of approval.

Finally, my fellow citizens, the quick, glad tones of 'Dixie' filled the air. Instantly every reserve light was flashed on, and as the joyous, exhilarating strains grew louder and louder, filling the vast hall and reaching from the lofty dome, there was spontaneous applause, deafening and prolonged. Before realizing it, I found myself on my feet, with tears in my eyes, scarcely able to restrain my emotions, and if you, my fellowMississippians, had been there, we would have startled the astonished ear of Paris for once, at least, with that wild, weird, exhilarating cry known to all men as the 'Rebel yell.' 

This ovation to 'Dixie' was not an accident. The air was rendered once again during our stay at the Grand Hotel. Again the reserve lights flashed on in its honor, and the applause followed, a distinction that was not accorded any other national anthem among them all. Why, you ask, is 'Dixie' so honored in the far off land of the French lilies? No one in the hotel could tell me, but the cause is not far to seek. It is the involuntary homage paid by the civilized world, now that we are better understood, to the memory of the Old South, Once radiant with all 'the glory that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome.' Her record, my countrymen, merits these unusual honors, and is one in which we may well take pride. The ability of her statesmen, the genius of her military leaders, the courage of her soldiers, and the devotion of her women have' long ago attracted the attention and challenged the admiration of all mankind."



About a year ago I first saw a copy of the CONFEDERATE VETERAN in our State Library in Indianapolis. I became interested in the magazine and subscribed for it. I now renew. The VETERAN is to be commended for its success in keeping the present generation correctly informed on the causes that precipitated our Civil War, the enduring loyalty of the Confederate armies, and their splendid achievements. It is good too to read of the effective and successful work being done by the Daughters of the Confederacy, as set forth in the VETERAN, to erect throughout the Southland memorials and monuments to perpetuate the fame of their Spartan soldiers.

As surely as "truth crushed to earth shall rise again" will those who record historic truths and who perpetuate the memory of heroes in blocks of stone be classed among such immortals as Jefferson Davis and the great souls who led the armies of the Confederacy to victory on many a stubborn battlefield in defense of the people of the seceding States in the rights that were theirs under the Constitution rights that would have been denied them had they remained in the Union. Surely it was a cause for which it was a great honor to fight and fail than not to fight at all.

I have been a member of George H. Thomas Post, No. 17, G. A. R., of Indianapolis. It is the most prominent Post in Indiana, having a membership of about three hundred. Benjamin Harrison and many other noted officers of the Union army, now dead, were members. Capt. William A. Ketcham, a member of the Thomas Post, introduced the resolution in the recent national G. A. R. Encampment at Atlantic City to have Lee's statue removed from the Hall of Fame at Washington and the profile of Jefferson Davis removed from the battle ship Mississippi. I rejoice for my country, and especially do I rejoice with the people of the South, that the rational Encampment had the patriotism to turn down this measure. It confirms that open rebellion is not treason, it is the right of a free people to war against despotism.

I was present when the Ketcham resolution was acted on in the Post, but became disgusted with a class of G. A. R. comrades who persistently schemed to induce the G. A. R. to indorse measures denouncing the people of the South, all this in face of the fact that during the history of our country our government has never once had occasion to inflict the death penalty for treason. During our great Civil War neither the North nor the South developed a traitor in the sense that Benedict Arnold proved himself a traitor. I applied for and received an honorable discharge from the order. I regretted the necessity that moved me to such action, for I have ever entertained a profound regard and affection for my comrades of the Union army. All who receive the baptism of fire in battle are close akin.

I was born seventy five years ago in Pickensville, Pickens County, S. C., and my mother, Harriet Caroline Osborne, was born and brought up in the same locality, while her mother was born in Virginia. In view of this statement, if I am asked how I happened to serve in the Union army against my native State, I answer: I and two of my brothers believed that the war was to be prosecuted by the Lincoln administration to preserve the Constitution and the Union as bequeathed to posterity by our fathers. Believing this, we volunteered into the Union army and served full terms, and all three were on the firing line in a number of the hardest fought battles. The Union was saved, but the Constitution got so badly disfigured that old Tom Jefferson wouldn't know his own child.

In a spirit of "friendly criticism" R. I. Holcombe, a sub scriber to the VETERAN, writes from St. Paul, Minn.:

I like the VETERAN very much and greatly enjoy reading every article. Of course as a former Union soldier I don't indorse many of the sentiments expressed, but I 'don't have to' in order to be thoroughly interested. Some of the articles remind me of the scoldings we used to get during the war in Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia from the ladies and other noncombatants, and even from prisoners. There was a strenuously expressed declaration that the Confederacy was sure to succeed, and now I note that many of its defenders are stoutly asserting that in effect it did succeed. The Yankees were licked in every battle, and when the Confederates retreated, it was because they were worn out and exhausted from pounding the poor, miserable Union troops. 

Bully for the old unreconstructed Reb! Like Artemus Ward's kangaroo, he is 'an amoosin' cuss.' He was 'amoosin' ' during the war, he is funnier now. But while many articles in the VETERAN are worthless as history, many others are truthful, unexaggerated, and really valuable. The grains of wheat are recompense for the chaff, and the VETERAN is altogether of real service in the preservation of American history."

Mr. Holcombe would like to have a sketch of the Holcombe Legion, a South Carolina Confederate organization during the war. He served three years and a half in the Federal army, but is of complete Southern lineage, and had many kinsmen in the Confederate service. He has never been able to learn anything of the Holcombe Legion save from the incomplete references in the official records of the Civil War. The VETERAN would like to know something of this organization.


Our country's flag, we honor it, fair emblem of the free,

Long, long in triumph may it wave, ensign of liberty,

And should we e'er claim alien lands as cycles onward move,

Beneath her sway let them be blessed with justice, peace, and love.

This to the flag a tribute we most heartily accord,

But to the old Confederates ah, how they love the word

There was a little banner once they flaunted to the world,

Which in a cause at countless cost was torn and stained and furled.

'Twas torn by bullet and by shell darting through the air,

'Twas stained by fall of daring men who left their lifeblood


'Twas furled by tender, trembling hands, as wrap our dead

we might

To lay them with a throbbing heart beyond all mortal sight.

But as night brings out the stars, so conflict's maddening call

Brought to the fore heroic men that stood like Jackson's wall,

And who, when adverse fates of war forbade them victory


With gracious dignity have shown the grandeur of defeat.

And noble chieftain, Robert Lee, our bright and guiding star,

Who blazed with purity upon the horizon of war

If our fair Southern land had borne no son save only thee,

Her brow would still be crowned with wreath of immortality.


(This poem was written for a former occasion of celebrating the birthday of Gen. R. E. Lee. EDITOR.)
Confederate Veteran March 1911

DEED OF MONUMENT T0 SONS OF VETERANS. A meeting of Camp 752, Lafayette County (Miss.) Veterans, U. C. V., was held at Oxford on Thanksgiving day. The Camp with a large attendance marched to the Methodist church, where they attended divine services, returning thence to the courthouse to partake of a bountiful and elegant dinner prepared and served by Mesdames R. L. Stephens, W. M. Woodward, and Fannie Mayfield. There was delightful music, also well filled tables. After dinner a smoker was tendered to the veterans by their Commander, J.. L. Shinault, during which the old fellows in reminiscences became young again.

The Camp convened in regular annual session for the transaction of ordinary business and the election of new officers. All the officers were unanimously reelected, from Commander down. After the transaction of the regular business, the Camp formally conveyed to the local Camp of Sons the beautiful Confederate monument erected by this Camp to the memory of their departed comrades. Col. J. L. Shinault, Commander of the Camp, delivered a deed of conveyance to the monument to the Sons of Veterans with appropriate commendation, and other suitable addresses were made. In accepting the deed of conveyance made to his Camp the Commander of the Camp of Sons of Veterans, Hon. W. P. Shinault, paid worthy tribute to the Confederate soldier. H. T. Smith, Esq., Superintendent of Education, paid eloquent tribute to the record of the Confederacy.

Subscriptions were then called for to the fund being raised to erect a monument to the mothers of the Confederacy by the Mississippi Division of the United Confederate Veterans, and a liberal sum was contributed.

The deed of conveyance from the members of Lafayette County Camp, No. 752, United Confederate Veterans, of Oxford, Miss., transfers, conveys, and warrants unto the L. Q. C. Lamar Camp, No. 220, United Sens of Confederate Veterans, of Oxford, Miss., the Confederate monument now standing at the south gate of the County Courthouse on the Public Square in Oxford, Lafayette County, Miss., and erected by said Camp of Confederate Veterans to the memory of their departed comrades in arms, "to have and to hold the same for themselves, their successors, and our lineal descendants free from encumbrances, in fee simple forever."

William Percy Shinault, Commander of the Sons Camp, read officially: "For and in behalf of Camp L. Q. C. Lamar, No. 220, United Sons of Confederate Veterans, of Oxford, Miss., I, Commandant of said Camp, do hereby accept the foregoing deed and monument conveyed thereby in trust for the purpose therein mentioned."

The pioneers of Texas, whose coming antedates the year 1846, are rapidly joining the great majority. George B. Zimpelman was born in Bavaria July 24, 1832. His father, John Jacob Zimpelman, was an influential citizen, and his mother, Valentine Hochdoeffer, was a granddaughter of a general under the Emperor. Much had been published in Germany about the new republic of Texas, and young George Zimpelman, having caught its spirit, decided to make his way thither, and he came to Texas in 1845, locating on the Colorado River, where he purchased a plantation. In 1856 he located on a plantation near Austin, where he pursued stock raising and agriculture until the breaking out of the Civil War. Upon the first call to arms, in 1861, he volunteered in the defense of his country, joining Terry's Texas Rangers. * * *

Mr. Zimpelman married Sarah C. Matthews, daughter of Thomas Matthews, of Essex County, Va. The Matthews family were notable in the colonization of Virginia, Samuel Matthews being one of the Colonial Governors, and all of the family taking part in the history making of that State.

George B. Zimpelman died on the 1st of January, 1908, survived by two sons, Thomas and Lee Zimpelman, and one daughter, Mrs. Moritz O. Kopperl, of Galveston. Mr. Kopperl is a namesake of his father, who was one of the most prominent and useful men of Galveston,


The VETERAN for December contained an interesting sketch of Capt. William Penn Snowden, a native of Tennessee, whose family moved to Mississippi when he was a lad of five years. His death occurred at Aberdeen on October 8, 1910.

The engraving herewith given will be a pleasing reminder of the genial, generous gentleman who was a gallant Confederate soldier of Company F, 11th Mississippi Regiment. He participated in many of the severest battles fought by the Army of Northern Virginia. At Sharpsburg the regiment lost every field officer and Comrade Snowden was severely wounded. It is reported that the regiment lost all but two of its twenty two officers, and but ninety of four hundred and forty six privates.

Comrade Snowden was married soon after the war to Miss Henson, who lived only a short while, leaving one daughter, now Mrs. Dr. Crease, of Bakersfield, Cal. In 1875 he married Miss Mollie Bush, his "guiding spirit" for eighteen years, when he was left again alone. Two daughters had blessed this union, who are now Mrs. J. S. Cavett and Mrs. A. Mcintosh, of Noxubee County, Miss. His surviving wife was Mrs. Will Hodges, who was his loving helpmeet and a fond mother to his orphan children. He was esteemed by all who knew him, and leaves a good name.CAMP CHASE.

About four miles from Columbus, Ohio, is a place where brooding peace seems eternally to dwell, a place of green fields and shading forests, yet on this spot was once Camp Chase Prison, in which want and suffering held high revel.

In 1861 General McClellan was ordered to send his prisoners to Ohio. Regarding the jails as insecure, Gov. William Dennison ordered the erection of barracks on some land which the government leased, these barracks forming what was known as Camp Chase. This was for privates and noncommissioned officers, the officers being carried to Johnson's Island, in Lake Erie.

The first prisoners in Camp Chase were from the 23d Virginia Regiment, who were captured in the Kanawha Valley, but these prisoners, more fortunate than most, were soon exchanged. More rapidly took their places, however, and in 1863 there were eight thousand Confederates held in confinement in this one prison. In 1863 three women, a mother and two daughters eighteen and sixteen years of age, who were brought from Nashville, Tenn., were held prisoners in Camp

Chase. These ladies had been very active in giving information to leaders and in aiding Confederate soldiers.

The lease of the land, which was held by the government, continued till April, 1879, when the place was purchased by government authority and held as a Confederate cemetery, as two thousand three hundred Southern soldiers were buried there. While Rutherford B. Hayes was Governor of Ohio, the cemetery was put in good order and a man was employed to take care of it, but Governor Bishop refused to allow this expenditure of twenty five dollars a year, and the cemetery was allowed to grow up in weeds and underbrush. When Senator Foraker was made Governor, he called the attention of the government to the neglected condition of the graveyard, and an appropriation was made to put it in order and maintain it. A substantial stone wall has taken the place of the wooden fence which had surrounded the cemetery, which fence was built of the planks, from the old barracks when they were torn down after the war.



(To the memory of the brave Confederates who are buried in the Camp Chase Cemetery, at Columbus, Ohio.)

They sleep afar where they sighed for home

Those chevaliers in gray,

They camp beneath the starlit dome

In a spot so far away.

For them no more the bugle call,

For them no more the drum,

Where rose the guarded prison wall

The silences are dumb.

The sunbeams fall upon their camp,

Unguarded now and still,

For them no more the sentry's tramp,

No more the iron will,

With thoughts of Southland dear to them,

They bravely bore their tot,

Love's hand hath formed their diadem,

Which ne'er will be forgot.

The boy who wore with pride his gray

Beside the veteran died.

No mother's hand with gentle sway

Could stem the dark'ning tide,

And when the wild delirium came

To rob life of its bliss,

They yearned amid the fever's flame

To feel a sister's kiss.

Far from the battle's fiery strife,

Held by the captive's thrall,

Each yielded up a hero's life

Aye, gladly gave his all.

In dreams they saw a banner wave

Amid the golden stars,

And prayed that puissant hand would save

The banner of the bars.

Though in the Northland now they sleep

In silence through the hours,

Each year beneath the spangled deep

Their graves are decked with flowers.

The South remembers every one,

Though they lie far away,

And love recrowns each gallant son

In old Camp Chase to day.

Confederate Veteran March 1911


In the spring of 1905 correspondence was had with relatives of Maj. Joseph W. Anderson, of Virginia, and interesting data sent with photograph, and the long delay is regretted.

Joseph W. Anderson, son of John T. and Cassandra M. Anderson, was born in Fincastle, Va., December 19, 1836. He graduated at the University of Virginia in 1859, and was married very soon afterwards lo Susan W., daughter of Dr. J. M. Morris, of Louisa County, Va. Although he was educated for a lawyer, that profession was not congenial to his taste, while he was fond of the military spirit and imbued with the chivalrous sentiment of military life.

In 1861 he entered the Confederate service as captain of an infantry company in his native State, and served gallantly under Gens. J. E. Johnston and Beauregard. Upon the recommendation

of General Beauregard he was transferred to the artillery service. During the spring of 1862 he served under Gen, E, Kirby Smith in Kentucky and Tennessee. In this service he was conspicuous in leading a gallant charge at Tazewell, Tenn. In December, 1862, he was ordered to Vicksburg with his artillery. Immediately upon his arrival he went into a fight December 29, and gave the enemy some parting shots. In January he was promoted to major and to chief of artillery to Stevenson's Division.

On May 16, 1863, was fought that sanguinary battle of Baker's Creek, about midway between Jackson and Vicksburg. After five hours of conflict, an infantry charge was ordered, and in it Major Anderson volunteered to lead the 40th Georgia. The lines of the enemy were broken temporarily, but the gallant Virginian fell mortally wounded. His friends were forced to leave him on the field. Later he was found by Surgeon Van Dyke, of Georgia, who removed him to the field hospital, but he had suffered so great loss of blood that he expired during the night. The Surgeon spoke words of praise to Major Anderson for his gallant service, and he replied: "I am prepared to die. I am resigned to my fate."

A sister in law writes of him: "A nobler, more unselfish man never lived." His father was in Mississippi at the time, but no coffin could be procured, so his body was simply wrapped in a blanket. In November, 1863, Colonel Anderson, accompanied by a servant, Albert, who had been with Major Anderson from the time of the battle of Bull Run, went to Mississippi and took the body to the grand old home in Botetourt County, Va., and buried it in the Fincastle Cemetery, where a simple stone marks the grave.


(Joseph R, Anderson, of Lee, Va President V. M. 1. Alumni Association, kindly sends extracts from the. University (Virginia) Memorial, published by Rev, J. L. Johnson.

At the time of the John Brown raid the Mounted Rifles in Botetourt County, Va., was organized, with William W. Boyd as captain. Joseph W. Anderson was afterwards captain, and subsequently chief of artillery of Stevenson's Division, and was killed at Baker's Creek, May 16, 1863. Before the secession of Virginia the company was reorganized with officers as follows: Captain, Joseph W. Anderson, Lieutenants, Philip Peters, John W. Johnston. Henry C. Douthat.

Before the expiration of the company's first year's service Captain Anderson obtained an order from the War Department, upon the recommendation of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, commanding the Army of Northern Virginia, which authorized him to change his arm of the service from infantry to mounted artillery. "This excellent officer, supported by worthy and gallant lieutenants and one hundred and fifty men, a majority of whom had passed through the first year in active service, the others having been recruited by Lieutenant Johnston early in 1862, reported at Camp Lee (Richmond) in the latter part of January, 1862," to be organized, drilled, and equipped as an artillery company. "In general orders Captain Anderson was placed in charge of the camp of instruction," and later "special orders were issued authorizing Captain Anderson to run a battery of six brass guns." "The battery being now entitled to four lieutenants, two first and two second, William P. Douthat was elected junior second, and Lieutenants Johnston and H. C. Douthat were advanced.

The Tredegar Iron Works had nearly completed their armament, and Captain Anderson, his officers, and men were in high spirits.

When the Department issued an order for this battery (it being in the most forward state of preparation of all the batteries at Camp Lee) to move at once, regardless of outfit, to East Tennessee, where an active campaign was soon to be waged with such material and resources as were at hand there, it fell to the lot of Anderson's Battery to go. It was a sad day to officers and men to leave behind them guns which were nearly ready to be issued to them, but they keenly appreciated the compliment of being chosen as the first battery sufficiently advanced in instruction to leave the camp.

At Knoxville on reporting to Gen. E. Kirby Smith in April, 1862, the battery was furnished with iron guns, which were replaced at Chattanooga in December, 1862, by six brass piece? from the Tredegar Works, Richmond.

Lieutenant Johnston served with his battery throughout the spring and summer campaign of 1862. He was engaged in the battle of Tazewell, or Waldron's Ridge, August 6, and served during the investment of Cumberland Gap, August and September. After the evacuation of Cumberland Gap, he accompanied his battery, attached to Barton's Brigade, Stevenson's Division, through Kentucky to Frankfort and back again through Cumberland Gap to Lenoir's Station. Thence his battery was ordered to Murfreesboro, and from there in December, 1862, to Vicksburg, and arrived during the battle of Chickasaw Bayou, December 27 and 28, and was soon gallantly engaged. The enemy was repulsed, and the battery went into camp at Vicksburg.

On January 28, 1863, the appointment of Captain Anderson as chief of artillery of Stevenson's Division was announced in general orders. Lieut. Philip Peters took command of the battery, and Lieutenant Johnston was promoted to junior first lieutenant. On March 18, 1863, Lieutenant Johnston was announced in general orders as captain of Anderson's Battery, which was afterwards known as the "Botetourt Artillery." Captain Anderson having been promoted to major of artillery and Lieutenant Peters having declined promotion and retaining his original rank, both Major Anderson and Captain Johnston took rank from January 28, 1863.

On October 28, 1863, the battery broke camp at Warrenton and marched with Tracy's Alabama Brigade to reenforce General Bowen below Vicksburg, "Captain Johnston, who had been detached on court martial duty, left Vicksburg on the evening of April 30, and after riding all night reached and crossed Bayou Pierre at daybreak May 1," and in a very few

117 Confederate Veteran March 1911

minutes the battle of Bayou Pierre, or Port Gibson, began, Very soon an order came to send two guns to the left to operate with Green's Missourians. * * * The battle raged with fury, the enemy being found in overwhelming force, having six divisions at least, of which four were actively engaged, with a number of inferior batteries of rifle and other guns. Our largest force engaged at any time during the day were three brigades, less than four thousand five hundred men. Yet our gallant troops held their line and the men fought on with dogged pertinacity and devotion worthy of a better fate." * * *

It was here that the noble General Tracy was killed. Captain Johnston lost in killed Lieutenants Peters and William P. Douthat and Orderly David Leips and two privates. The total loss of the Botetourt Artillery in this battle in killed, wounded, and captured was about forty five officers and men, fifty three horses, and four guns. Late in the day Captain Johnston was disabled.

In the battle of Baker's Creek, in which Maj. Joseph W. Anderson, chief of artillery, was mortally wounded while both he and Captain Johnston were trying to re form Barton's regiments, the latter behaved with great gallantry. After this battle Captain Johnston was promoted to chief of artillery, vice Anderson, killed. The Botetourt Artillery being weakened by losses before and during the siege of Vicksburg, was transferred to Western Virginia. Major Johnston remained South and went in command of a battalion of artillery until the surrender of April, 1865.
John William Johnston, second son of John Nash Johnston and Eliza Ogilvie Bell, was born at Pattonsburg, Botetourt County, Va., July 8, 1839. Losing his father while yet a child, he became the chief support of his widowed mother and her younger children. His education he received from the local schools and at Hon. J. W. Brockenborough's excellent law school at Lexington. Only twenty two when Virginia seceded, he at once volunteered and entered the Confederate service as second lieutenant in the company of which his friend, Joseph W. Anderson, was captain. His military record: May 16, 1861, second lieutenant 28th Virginia Infantry, C. S. A. December, 1861, first lieutenant Anderson's Battery Light Artillery. January, 1863, captain Botetourt Artillery (formerly Anderson's Battery). July, 1863, captain and inspector general of artillery on Maj. Gen. C. L. Stevenson's staff. March, 1864, major of artillery, commanding Johnston's Battalion Light Artillery.

He was engaged at First Manassas, Tazewell, Tennessee, siege of Cumberland Gap, Port Gibson, or Bayou Pierre (wounded here). Baker's Creek, siege of Vicksburg, Dalton, Ga. (wounded), Tilton, Resaca (Minie ball in thigh), Columbia, Tenn., Franklin, Nashville, and Salisbury, N. C. Being on detached duty, he surrendered at this latter place two days after the surrender of his kinsman. Gen. Joseph E. Johnston.

He was a gallant and accomplished officer, with much personal magnetism and a record for courage and determination, loved alike by his men and his fellow officers. In reports he was frequently mentioned for gallant conduct.

After the surrender he returned to his native county, and there engaged in the practice of law, a profession in which he achieved marked success. He married Miss Elizabeth Alexander, of Moorefield, W. Va., a woman lovely and beloved. She died in 1889, having borne him six children: Mary, Eloise. Anne, John, Walter, and Elizabeth. Mary, the eldest, is the author of "Prisoners of Hope," "To Have and to Hold," "Lewis Rand," etc. (We understand that she will publish this spring a novel the action of which takes place between the secession of Virginia and the battle of Chancellorsville. Its title will be "The Long Roll," and it is dedicated to the memory of her father and of her kinsman, Gen. Joseph E Johnston.) 
Major Johnston served several years in the Virginia Legislature. Later he became interested in various internal improvement enterprises. He was President of the James River Kanawha Canal Company, then of the Buchanan and Clifton Forge Railway Company, then Vice President and General Manager of the Richmond and Danville Extension Company. then President of the Georgia Pacific Railroad Company. His business interests calling him to Alabama, he removed with his family to Birmingham, where he resided for a number of years. This period was followed by a residence of six years in New York, after which he and his daughters returned to Virginia, making their home in Richmond.

His health somewhat failing. Major Johnston retired during the last several years of his life from active business interests. To the last, however, he kept his strong understanding, his keen, broad, and unfailing interest in all that concerned his country and humanity. He was a very lovable man, upright, strong, simple, and sincere. He died on the 25th of May, 1905. after a short illness, and was buried in Hollywood, at Richmond. The inscription on the stone at his head reads: "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." His interest in Confederate matters was ever constant and warm.

General Stephenson in his report of the Baker's Creek battle mentions Maj. J. W. Anderson (see sketch herewith) as "Gallantly falling in full discharge of his duties" and Capt. J. W. Johnston as fighting his battery "to the last extremity," and he mentions Captain Johnston in the siege of Vicksburg while inspector of light artillery "for valuable service rendered."


(Extracts from letter of E. W. Blanchard, Greenwood, Miss.) Let us at the Reunion of Confederate Veterans in Little Rock have the mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts of war times for our sponsors and maids of honor. They suffered more than we did at the front in the sixties. Our mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts were at home taking care of everything and urging their loved ones to remain at the front in defense of homes and firesides. Had it not been for the true womanhood of our Southland, the men would not have remained in the army.

Many old veterans, good and true, will not attend our Reunions because everything is given over to the younger people. The old soldiers are pushed to the rear. I heard a veteran say he would not attend another of our Reunions because at our last Reunion in New Orleans a young staff officer to one of the generals displayed himself on horseback, and he knew that the father of that young man was at home during the four years of the war stealing cotton, horses, cattle, and actually robbing the wives of Confederate soldiers who were in the army. God bless the old women! Let us make them our sponsors and maids of honor.

Let the sons and daughters of veterans attend, for they will have to keep up the organizations in a few more years.

Nothing would be grander than to see our headquarters carriages in the parade with the dear old ladies seated in them. As an old veteran I would like to be one of the special escort to walk by the side of the carriage conveying those dear old ladies who went through the war from 1861 to 1865.

(Comrade Blanchard is correct in his idea to honor the old women above all others at our Reunions, for that manifestly sacred duty is too often neglected, but a more conservative spirit is necessary. While Camps, Brigade and Division organizations elect Commanders who pursue a different course, the manifest injustice is unavoidable. The veterans have this power, but the work must be done at home before the Reunions. Our many sacred duties in maintaining the organizations require that we do the best we can, yet stand together until "taps.")

TRIALS WITH GEN. JOHN H. MORGAN. (A chapter from the "Memoirs" of John Allan "Wyeth, M.D., LL.D., with Gen. John H. Morgan's cavalry in 1862 63.)

In the late summer of 1862 a squadron of Morgan's Kentucky cavalry in command of Maj. Basil W. Duke marched into Guntersville, Ala., my native town. They left at our home in my mother's care Lieut. Frank Brady, who had suffered an injury to one knee in a skirmish a day or two before at Whitesburg Landing, on the Tennessee River.

Of Irish extraction, born and reared near Georgetown, in the blue grass region, Brady was at this time about twenty five years of age, of athletic build, graceful carriage, handsome features, possessing withal an attractive personality. To other charms was added a well trained voice, and he sang with feeling and expression many of the popular songs of that day. Among these I still recall "Lorena," "Bonnie Mary of Argyle," and "Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier."

As I was then seventeen years old, full of the military spirit and anxious to go to the war, it was no wonder I took a great liking to Lieutenant Brady, and I can picture him now after the lapse of forty eight years as in his neat and well fitting uniform, his handsome face partly shaded by a broad brimmed black felt hat, one side of which was fastened to the crown by a silver crescent, with saber and pistol swinging from his belt, he sat his horse, my boyish ideal of a cavalryman.

When in the middle of December he left to rejoin his command at Murfreesboro, my parents gave their consent for me to go with him to "take a look at the army." My military outfit for this campaign was a small, short barreled "five shooter" (about twenty two caliber), a toy practice pistol, scarcely effective at the distance of a few feet, and then only if the bullet struck a vital spot.
We reached Murfreesboro on December 23, 1862. Morgan's command was then assembled at Alexandria, Tenn., and the next day Brady reported there for duty and was assigned to Quirk's Scouts. During his absence a reorganization had taken place. Morgan's famous "Old Squadron" had grown into two small brigades of about seventeen hundred and fifty each. Some of the survivors of the veteran companies had been distributed among the regiments as officers, while the remainder, about fifty in all, were organized into a company to act as scouts or videttes to obtain information concerning the enemy and in the main to move in advance.

Of this company Tom Quirk, a dare devil "Blue Grass" Irishman, was made captain. I was told that he had kept a candy store in Lexington but with the inherited courage and love of adventure of his, race he couldn't stay behind a counter when he could get behind a gun. So he "shut up shop," volunteered in Morgan's original squadron, and soon attracted attention by his tireless activity and indifference to danger. His bravery was unquestioned, but he did not possess other qualities which make a capable and successful leader, A blue coat to him was like a red flag to a mad bull, and he went at it on all occasions without regard to anything or anybody. None the less every man in his company liked him and followed him without hesitation. I emphasize "followed" because this wild Irishman never let any one get ahead of him in going into a fight, and he didn't know how to quit and retire gracefully.

When we reached Alexandria, the camp was in a stir. John H. Morgan, who had made the brilliant capture of a large 
Federal command at Hartsville a short while before, had just been made a brigadier general, and a week earlier had been married to Miss Ready, of Murfreesboro, was now under orders to move to the rear of Rosecrans's army and destroy his communications by tearing up the Louisville & Nashville Railroad in Kentucky. The troops had just heard this great news, and as nearly the entire command was made of Kentuckians, they were wild with enthusiasm to visit their homes or get as near them as possible. As I had not yet "seen the army," I asked Lieutenant Brady to let me go along, and to my delight he assented. I joined the scouts as an independent, and away we marched on the famous Christmas raid. My small stature and boyish appearance led to my baptism by my comrades as "Little Johnnie," and each member of the company, from the captain and Lieutenants Gardner and Brady down even to "old cussin' Hutch," Billy Miller, and the "Badger," seemed to think it his special duty to lookout for me. As for myself, I never felt bigger. On Fanny, my beautiful and spirited little thoroughbred mare, the equal of anything in that or any other command, and with a five shooter pistol in my pocket, I felt an importance I had never before attained.

Morgan's men were in high feather, and they were a fine lot of fighters none better. They fell short of their full usefulness, however, as did practically all our Western mounted troops, by the absence of that strict discipline, without which no men ever make the best of soldiers. Two demi brigades were formed, one under Col, Basil W. Duke, and the other under Col. W. C. P. Breckinridge, about thirty five hundred in all. Morgan reported thirty one hundred with guns and seven pieces of artillery. The unarmed men were soon furnished by the enemy with all they required. Early on December 22 we started on what turned out to be an exciting experience and one of the most trying of my life, always excepting my Camp Morton Prison sojourn. Neither men nor horses on that wild sweep through Kentucky were spared until we reached Liberty, Tenn., not far from our starting point, fifteen days later, but notwithstanding the cold and fatigue and loss of sleep, I would not have missed it for any consideration. There was something contagious in the spirit, the "elan" of Morgan's troopers I never met with in other commands in which I became a "veteran." Their enthusiasm was an epidemic which spared no one, not even the "independent scout." They idolized John H. Morgan, who at the successful termination of this expedition reached the zenith of his glory. Later he lost confidence in the ability of General Bragg, chafed under the restraint placed upon him by the disciple of West Point, and in direct disregard of the orders of the commander in chief crossed the Ohio and destroyed himself and his splendid command in the ill starred Indiana raid in July, 1863.

Late in the day the scouts forded the Cumberland River not far from Carthage, Tenn., and a few miles farther on bivouacked for the night. This was my first experience in sleeping on the ground in the open air in winter. As it was not very cold, with an abundant supply of wood which had been cut and corded long enough to become well seasoned (seemingly for our use), we made great fires, and Lieutenant Brady and I "snugged up" between our oilcloths and blankets, with our saddles for pillows, and slept the sleep of the weary. On the 23d we rode all day at good speed, camped again under the sky, and the next day, Christmas eve, just at dark, were in sight of Glasgow, the county seat of Barren County, Ky.
I recall here an incident of disrespect to a staff officer which impressed me with the great lack of discipline in this command, or at least in Quirk's Scouts. Our place was in advance of the main column from one to four miles, and the men always felt a resentment when any other troops were allowed to go to the front. One great advantage of this position was that by being first on the ground we got the choice of the fat of the land, and when we struck a town at night and could stop. we took possession of the livery stables for our horses and the hotel beds for ourselves before the main column swarmed in. Moreover, we didn't neglect the stores, the proprietors of which, uninformed of our approach, had not had time to close their doors or remove their goods. General Morgan had one brother, a major, on his staff who was not popular, at least so it seemed with Quirk's men. As we were entering the suburbs of Glasgow just at dark this brother in brilliant staff uniform, escorted by a squadron, dashed up behind us at a gallop, evidently bent on reaching town first and securing for himself and the General and staff the best quarters available. As they rode through us one of our company shouted at the top of his voice, "No danger ahead, boys, Charlton Morgan's going to the front," which remark, although not justified (for this same officer had been wounded at Shiloh), was applauded by a loud laugh on the part of the scouts which met with no reprimand.

The diagnosis of no danger, however, was not correct, for just as this squadron reached one corner of the Public Square several companies of the 2d Michigan Cavalry (Company C, Captain Darrow in command, supported by Companies L. M. and H, 2d Michigan Cavalry, p. 148, "Official Records," Volume XX.), with no idea that Morgan's men were in that part of the world, rode into sight across the square. Both sides fired at close range. One Federal was killed and two wounded, and a Confederate captain and one soldier were mortally and one lieutenant slightly wounded. Captain Quirk hurried us in the direction of the firing, and we arrived in time to profit by the success of the fray. Frank Brady took charge of the captain and adjutant of this regiment, who was one of some twenty prisoners taken, and gave me the captain's bridle and saddle. This saddle was a McClellan tree with brass mountings, padded cover, thick felt saddle blanket, with breast strap, crupper, a water proof roll and six buckled leathers for holding a forage sack, blankets, and oilcloth secure.. The bridle was not the least valuable item of this acquisition, and as I viewed Fanny in her royal outfit by the light of the early Christmas morning of 1862, I thought and still think she was the prettiest thing I ever saw on four legs. She and I went with this saddle through many scenes of trial and danger, and when my hour of disaster came (and it never came until I had lost my spirited, intelligent, and almost human Fanny), I hid it in the hollow of a large tree on the north side of Walden's Ridge with the Michigan captain's name still inscribed thereon. Several of the captured Yankees had Christmas turkeys strapped to their saddles, preparing for a feast which we enjoyed. We slept in beds that night, and our horses were under shelter. On the 25th we started North at daybreak on the Munfordsville Turnpike and stopped an hour at noon to feed and wait for the main column to come up. The sun was shining and the temperature unusually warm for Christmas day in this section. General Morgan had overtaken us earlier in the forenoon and rode some distance with our company, which gave me an excellent opportunity of seeing the famous cavalryman. He was in appearance an ideal soldier, with light blue or gray eyes and a strikingly handsome face partly concealed by a brown or sandy mustache and imperial. He impressed me as being above the average in size, and, as usual with Southerners (John H. Morgan was born at Huntsville, Ala., and reared in Lexington, Ky,), was at home on horseback. Another observation at this time made a lasting impression on my mind and one not altogether favorable, as my mother had brought me up to believe that even mere moderate drinking was objectionable namely, an interchange of those courtesies between our captain and our general, which legend ascribes to the Governors of North and South Carolina. I do not mention this now in any sense of disrespect or as in the least a reflection on this brave and noble man, but I am writing facts, and state exactly what I saw. Every one knows (or can know) that General Morgan never drank to excess. He was too great a soldier and too conscientious a commander to endanger by his own conduct the lives of the men he loved better than his own.

When the head of the column came up and halted to feed, we mounted and rode on. As we approached a small settlement known as "Bear Wallow" one of the videttes came tearing back at full speed and shouted out as he drew near: "Yankees thick as hell up the road." We were quickly told to 'load and cap" our guns, and then rode briskly forward to a rise in the road, and there some four or five hundred yards in front of us in a line of battle which extended a hundred yards or more on either side of and across the pike were at least two hundred mounted men in blue. ("War Records," Volume XX., Part 1., p. 151. Two companies of the 4th and 5th Indiana Cavalry under Col. Isaac P. Gray.) There was another company we did not see then, but saw later to our sorrow, for they were in ambush on the side of the road along which our Irish captain was to lead us in a charge. These were the first real live fighting Yankees I had seen, and they made a very fine appearance.

As we reached this point Captain Quirk yelled out, "Charge em, d 'em," and down the pike we fifty rode at full tilt. As we started on this reckless ride, I went with the crowd with my small five shooter in one hand all ready for slaughter, when one of the men, seeing the absolute uselessness of such a weapon, advised me to drop out. In reply to a remonstrance he handed me his gun, a long barreled Austrian rifle, saying: "Then you'd better take this, as I have two army sixes." All this occurred in a few seconds as we were galloping in columns of four toward the Federals. Our warlike approach did not seem to disconcert the men in blue, who were now in plain view, horses aligned and carbines ready and glinting in the Christmas sunlight. Their attitude evidently had made an impression on our captain, for when about two hundred yards from them, as we reached a slight depression in the road, he halted us, called off horse holders, and ordered us to dismount and advance on foot. As we reached the top of the rise the forty odd of us bent over, and, advancing in a lane which had a high worm fence on either side, the Federal line blazed away at us, and such a whizzing of bullets I had never before heard. Their line, not over a hundred yards away, was fully two hundred yards in length, and as their fire converged upon our small group in the roadway, the effect may be imagined. We crouched as low as we could, took refuge in the fence corners, and began firing. 
The most surprising feature of this affair was that I was not so scared as I expected to be, certainly not half so much so as in a bushwhacking episode, where there was no danger as compared to this. I rested my big gun on a rail, and through a crack in the fence took deliberate aim at one of the Yankees, who from his having a sword in his hand I took to be an officer, and fired. To my disgust he didn't tumble from his horse. As my comrade had given me his gun without including the cartridge belt, this shot ended my part of the fight.

However, had I had a bushel of ammunition, it would have been of no use now, for before I could have rammed a charge in this muzzle loader for another round we were treated to a rude surprise.

Company C, 5th Indiana Cavalry, which had been hidden from view in a hollow to our right, charged up to within a few yards of the road, right abreast of our position, and gave us a volley at almost muzzle range. One of our men, "Old Hutch" by nickname, was shot in the hand, and announced the fact with a loud oath, and our doughty captain received two scalp wounds and was not in the best of humor. At this fusillade the horse holders and horses stampeded to the rear, and, to add to the seriousness of our predicament, the Yankees in front charged down on us, and then a miniature Waterloo. "sauve qui pent," took place. Five of our company, the "Badger" among them, foolishly took refuge in a dwelling near the roadside and were captured. The rest of us scram bled over the opposite fence and made strides for a black jack or scrub oak thicket, which seemed to me a long way off, but really wasn't. The run for this copse was expedited by the pot shots from the Hoosier cavalrymen, who never let up on us until we had disappeared from view in the tangled thicket. Just as I reached the edge and turned to see if we were being closely followed I encountered Captain Quirk, bareheaded, his face streaked with blood running from two scalp wounds. The part which had no blood on it was almost as red with anger. and he was swearing like a trooper at his own men for running like cowards, seemingly unmindful that there was such a thing in the world of humor as an "Irish bull." Fortunately for us the Yankees stopped, for had they pressed us closely, few could have escaped. Forrest's rudely expressed maxim that "the time to whip the enemy was when you had him running" if carried out here would have landed Quirk's company, their doughty captain, and one "independent scout" in a Northern military prison. We hurried through the brush in the direction of our advancing 
column, recovered our horses, and as the advance guard arrived formed with them, and this time made a sureenough charge. The enemy broke, and in the pursuit Tom Quirk, off in front as usual, got close enough to one of the hindmost Hoosiers and killed him with his pistol." Two others surrendered. (Colonel Gray, p. 151, Volume XX., "Official Records," reports the Confederate loss as "nine killed and, as near as I can ascertain, twenty two wounded and five prisoners." The last item is correct, but none were killed and only two wounded. His own loss he reports as "one killed and two captured.") The excitement being over, we marched on toward the Green River crossing, near which we overhauled a huge sutler's wagon, the contents of which were unceremoniously appropriated even to a box of women's shoes, which the boys gallantly distributed to the houses on the line of march. That night we camped in the woods a few miles from Upton Station, on the Louisville & Nashville Railroad.

In the early morning of December 26 it began to drizzle, and as we struck the railroad at Upton, we saw several Union soldiers walking along the track, each with his gun on his shoulder. Under orders, we spurred our horses rapidly forward. Captain Quirk, pistol in hand, shouted to them to surrender, at the same time firing over their heads. Before any one else could shoot the men threw up their hands.

Here General Morgan overhauled the scouts, and I witnessed a very interesting incident. Attached to the General's staff was a telegraph operator, an attractive, quick witted, clever young man, apparently about twenty five years old, named Ellsworth, better known in the command as "Lightning." He acquired this sobriquet when on a former occasion, having tapped a wire and interposed his instrument (which, being a pocket affair, did not always give the most perfect satisfaction), its wobbling and uncertain "tick" aroused the suspicion of the operator he was calling. "Who are you, and what's the matter with your office?" came over the wire, and quick as a flash Ellsworth broke in and replied, "O. K lightning," which meant: "Go ahead, storm and lightning here interfering." This restored confidence, and Ellsworth got all the information his general wanted, and also got his nickname. Some one climbed a telegraph pole, fastened two strands of wire to the line on each side of the insulation, and as soon as Ellsworth attached the other ends of these to his instrument the line was cut and he was in the circuit. I sat on the end of a crosstie within a few feet of General Morgan and heard him dictate messages to be sent to General Boyle in Louisville and to other places, making inquiries as to the disposition of the Federal forces in Kentucky and telling some awful stories in regard to the large size of his own command and its movements. There came at this time among other dispatches over the wire the information that a train bearing some artillery and ammunition was on its way to Munfordville, and had already passed Nolin, the station just north of Upton. Morgan immediately ordered Quirk to go and be ready to obstruct the track as soon as the train should pass. Unfortunately the wary engineer saw us in time, reversed his drivers, and escaped before we could get to the track with our fence rails. I saw two pieces of artillery on a flat car, and there were some six or eight other cars in the train. The few shots we fired were a poor consolation for missing a valuable capture. Toward noon and while we were near Upton we heard cannonading at Bacon Creek Bridge stockade, which, after a gallant resistance, was reduced and the bridge destroyed.

Our company took up its march toward Nolin, where there was another bridge guarded by a stockade. Before we reached there the garrison had surrendered to a detachment under Colonel Duke. and the bridge was burned. By night the weather had cleared, and we camped in the open a few miles from Elizabethtown, This place we captured after a slight resistance. The garrison, some eight companies of an Illinois regiment, six hundred and fifty two men and officers, surrendered about 10 A.M. As we approached the town our company was well in the lead. The Federal commander had marched his troops half a mile or so in the direction of our advance and deployed them upon a hill in an open field. They were marching in double file across the brow of the hill, and to my untutored gaze there seemed to be no end of them. It turned out that there were not quite seven hundred in this "mighty army," The wily Col. H. S. Smith was repeating the performance of that King of France "who marched his army up the hill and then marched down again," for as soon as the head of the column was out of our sight it went around by the other side and again paraded across for our benefit. Our captain ventured too near for his safety, and received a fusillade which came very near his undoing, but with his Irish luck he lived through this and many other dangerous and thrilling experiences to die of consumption in the "piping times of peace." 
As General Morgan and the whole command came up the scouts brought up a flag of truce and a message from the Federal commander to General Morgan demanding his unconditional surrender, Morgan sent back word that if he did not surrender himself and men in thirty minutes he would attack. The answer was a refusal. Meanwhile the Union force had retired into the town and taken refuge in a group of brick houses on either side of the street near the railroad station. Knowing from the escape of the train at Upton and the cannonading at Bacon Creek and Nolin that we were coming, they had prepared these houses for defense by loop holing the walls. To have assaulted such a stronghold would
have been folly. So our wise general surrounded the town to prevent escape, brought up his guns, and after half an hour's notice to the citizens to get out of range the cannonade began. I was just behind our battery and was fascinated by the regularity with which the pieces were manned and the accuracy of aim. It was more astonishing to be able to see a cannon ball in flight. I noticed later the same demonstration at Chickamauga and at Cottonport Crossing in 1863. Being right behind the gun as it was fired and looking in the line of projection, it was easy to recognize a hazy, bluish streak or tail which seemed to be chasing the missile. I could plainly sec great holes knocked in the walls, and soon a soldier here and there would run out of the houses, evidently looking for a safer place. At last a white flag was waved from a window, the firing ceased, and the ever ready Quirk had us mount and dash first into the town. I recall distinctly the loop holed walls on either side as we galloped by and hoped the men inside knew the surrender had been made. Otherwise they could have riddled us. There seemed to be a strong Southern sentiment in Elizabethtown, and we were royally entertained in private houses. We stayed there that day (December 27) and for the night, and Lieutenant Brady and I doubled up in a feather bed. Continued in April Veteran.



I have been requested to give some of my four months' experiences in Yankee prisons. As surgeons and chaplains were noncombatants, some may ask why they were subject to capture. I had no explanation of this till I was informed by Judge Ould, our commissioner for the exchange of prisoners, as he and his adjutant, Major Hatch, were conveying me to Petersburg from City Point, Va., where I had just been unconditionally released. He said: "At the beginning of the war it was understood that surgeons and chaplains would not be held. But one of our surgeons was captured while armed, and was held. Our side retaliated by holding all surgeons. The Yankees then held all chaplains in retaliation, and then we held their chaplains. All this grew out of that surgeon's mistaking his duty."

Permit me first to introduce myself as the chaplain of the 36th Alabama Infantry, Gen. H. D. Clayton commander of brigade. I assumed duty when our regiment was located on Dauphin Way, four miles west of Mobile, in October, 1861, and remained in service till the surrender. We were transferred in 1863 to Tennessee, and served there till a short time before the close of the war, and were near Mobile again when the surrender came.

My imprisonment was in July, August, and September, 1863, at Nashville, and the following October in Washington City. I was kindly treated at both these prisons. I have always been thankful that an overruling Providence threw me into good hands and into places of usefulness, even though a prisoner. If all our soldiers had so fared, more pleasant memories between the two sections would now be entertained of the terrible times that "tried men's souls."

I have a most pleasant memory of Dr. T. G. Hickman, of Vandalia, Ill., the surgeon in charge of the prison hospital at Nashville. His uniform kindness for three months greatly endeared him to me. He sought and obtained my release from Gen. R. S. Granger, commandant of the post, who applied to General Rosecrans in my behalf. Our command was in active service in Tennessee. We were first encamped at Tullahoma, but soon moved to Wartrace, our line extending by Hoover's Gap. The night before my capture was spent in a stubble field where were shocks of wheat. These were of some protection from the ground made muddy by a hard rain, and we expected an engagement at any time. Next morning our soldiers were shivering from the cold rain, when the booming of cannon began, and I heard exploding shells for the first time. I soon learned that there was no danger in them when the explosion occurred overhead, for the fragments went forward. I sought breakfast at a small residence in the rear. The whites had vacated it. leaving a few negroes in charge. After a short meal, I ordered coffee for the suffering soldiers, and took two large pots to them. Very soon the Yankees were about cutting off and capturing the entire regiment. A rapid retreat was ordered, and the rushing men began throwing away their blankets. As I was mounted, I called them to bring their blankets to me. Very soon I had more than my arms could hold. One man said: "Get down quickly and we will spread them all upon the horse." When the horse was about the size of an elephant, I told them that was as many as I could stride. It must have been an amusing spectacle I presented in riding off with my load.

We were glad when the command, "Halt!" was given. The fatigued men dropped upon the ground to rest, dropping guns pellmell. Colonel Woodruff ordered all gun caps removed. Despite this order, one gun was neglected. A loaded wagon came along, and Colonel Woodruff called out: "Take up those guns!" A soldier requested another man to hand him his gun. The cap had not been removed, and a jutting rock pulled the hammer back and fired the gun into a group of soldiers. One cried out: "O my leg!" It proved to be Private Alien, of Company B, whom I met since the war as a physician of Rockdale, Tex. His thigh bone was broken. It was at the gate of Mr. Huffman's residence, near Normandy, a railroad station. He was carried into the house and his limb was immediately amputated by our surgeon, Dr. Herndon.

As Allen was recovering from the effects of chloroform he begged me to remain with him. I hesitated, knowing we were on the move and to remain meant capture. Dr. Herndon assured me they would not hold me and that I was the most suitable man to stay, especially as Mr. Huffman's family consisted entirely of ladies and he was a very old man. Private Joe Park agreed to stay with me. The first thing I did was to bury Alien's leg a sad duty. Within two days the Yankees were almost upon us, so Joe Park left just in time to escape.

Two weeks later Allen had rallied sufficiently for me lo leave for my command. I took Mr. Huffman along to testify to the Federal officer in command that he heard the surgeon address me as chaplain. This availed nothing. I had not brought a blanket or any other necessary articles, and I was at once sent to Tullahoma under heavy guard. Soon I was taken to the depot, where stood a train bound for Nashville. I was put aboard and at first in a box car crammed full of standing prisoners. Seats were impossible, for we were as close as sardines in a box. The lieutenant, observing my badge (a Maltese cross), said: "I'll give you a better place." I willingly accepted, yet felt I was no more worthy than any other of the men I left. The "better place" was a car with only one other fellow prisoner, introducing himself as Dr. Lloyd, a surgeon. Not much sleep came to my eyes as I lay without a blanket upon the filthy floor at the heels of a horse, constantly fearing that he might hurt me. I recalled what Paul said: "I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content."

Next morning our train stopped just before pulling into the station at Nashville. When a little boy came up to see the prisoners, Lloyd asked: "Buddy, can't you bring us some breakfast?" "Yes," he said, "if you are Rebels." We told him we were. He soon came with a nice, warm breakfast which we ate with relish. Lloyd said: "Let's write a note of thanks, but I haven't anything to write on." I readily assented and handed him a small company book that Captain Carpenter, of Company B, had entrusted to my care at Hoover's Gap. After writing the note, Lloyd inadvertently placed the little book in his own pocket. This escaped my attention also, but it was directed as a link in a wise, overruling providence to prepare the way for a place of usefulness to which I was led in about twenty four hours.

In the confusion of falling into line with my fellow prisoners I lost sight of Lloyd. We were marched to the penitentiary. I found citizen prisoners there who were imprisoned for their sympathies being with the South. Among these was an intelligent lawyer who advised me to apply to the provost marshal for release. I took his advice. Before word came from the provost marshal I thought of that company book Lloyd had forgotten to return to me. I asked some fellow prisoners if they knew a prisoner named Dr. Lloyd who came with us yesterday. One man replied: "Yes, but he is not a doctor, but is a private who on the eve of capture jerked on a surgeon's uniform, so as to have an easy time." He also told me that I could find him at the prison hospital, claiming to be a surgeon. While in the penitentiary a prisoner of the 36th Alabama told me of Bunch's being there dressed in the uniform of a Yankee captain who had been a spy among us and whom Colonel Woodruff, judging from his soldierly bearing, had made our color bearer. In another article I shall have more to say of Bunch and the so called "Dr." Lloyd.


(From the Baltimore Sun Correspondent, Washington.)

A large masonry monument is to be erected at Point Lookout, Md., by the United States government in memory of 3,384 Confederate soldiers and sailors who died in Northern prisons during the war and are buried in that vicinity.

A contract for the construction of the monument has been let by the War Department, but it could not be built without authority from Congress, as the Foraker act, passed in 1906, providing for the marking of the graves of Confederates who died in Northern prisons, directed the War Department to erect over every such grave a white marble headstone.

This work has been in progress during the past four years under the direction of former Governor Oates, of Alabama, whom the President appointed commissioner for that purpose. Governor Oates died last October, and since that time former Senator James H. Berry, of Arkansas, has been in charge of the work. In executing the law General Oates and General Berry have found in several places, among them Point Lookout, that the remains of Confederates had been removed from the places of original burial, and in the reinterment the identity of the remains had been lost, making it difficult to erect separate headstones. * * *

Point Lookout is at the southern extremity of the peninsula separating the Potomac River from Chesapeake Bay. A large prison camp was maintained there during the war, and many Confederate soldiers and sailors died there. A prison cemetery was established near the camp, where 3,384 were buried. Some years after the close of the war a small tract of land was acquired by the State of Maryland at some distance from the original place of interment. There the remains of the Confederate dead were reinterred and a small monument built to their memory. The transfer of the remains was carried on under such conditions that General Berry believes it practically impossible to erect the small marble tablets with any assurance that they would indicate the resting places of the Confederates in whose memory they were to be erected.

In a letter received by Senator Warren from Secretary of War Dickinson the statement is made that in view of the uncertainty of identification the proper authorities of Maryland refuse to permit the establishment of the small marble markers, but are willing to permit the erection of a central monument containing tablets upon which the names of the individual Confederates can be inscribed. A contract has therefore been let for the construction at Point Lookout of a central mass of masonry of suitable form on which are to be placed bronze tablets containing the names of the dead. The monument is to be completed by September, 1911.

To grant legislative authority for this work Senator Warren reported to the Senate a joint resolution, which was passed, granting authority to erect the monument and extending the Foraker act for two more years. Otherwise its provisions would expire February 26, 1911.

General Berry reports that 14,617 separate headstones have been placed over the graves of Confederate soldiers under the Foraker act, while the monuments to 4,400 more at Oakwood Cemetery, Chicago, and to 3,384 at Point Lookout will bring the total to 22,401 by next September, leaving only a few hundred more graves to be marked.


During the siege of Atlanta in 1864, and before General Sherman started on his memorable "march to the sea," he made a determined effort to break the Confederate communications by sending out a gigantic force of about nine thousand cavalrymen, well mounted, well armed and equipped, under Generals Stoneman, Garrard, and McCook. His object was to destroy the West Point and Macon Railroads, Hood's only means of supplying his army, and to liberate the thirty thousand Federal prisoners confined in Andersonville. Had this raid been successful, the campaign, if not the war, would have ended at Atlanta.

Wheeler's Cavalry defeated, completely foiled, and routed this immense aggregation, killing, wounding, and capturing as many as Wheeler had engaged. Among the captures were Major General Stoneman by Iverson's Division and over half of his command of about two thousand men. It was the result of a sharp engagement in Jones County, Ga., near Sunshine Church. Several hundred of Stoneman's men escaped, Iverson having to use all of his force to round up and guard what he had captured, leaving practically none to spare for pursuit. However, a small force from Breckinridge's Kentucky Brigade pursued and captured about three hundred of the fugitives near "Jug Tavern," now Winder, Ga.

Of those who finally escaped no reliable information was ever had until the receipt of the following interesting letter to Judge Richard Johnson from Comrade J. W. Turk.

The battle of Waterloo was lost by the failure of a grand charge of three thousand or four thousand heavy cavalry encountering a sunken road, and it is related in history that about half of this force filled the sunken road, and the rear columns rode over the carcasses of the men and horses. It is 
a remarkable coincidence that Comrade Turk describes a similar catastrophe as happening to a part of General Stoneman's men in their wild stampede to. escape capture.

Dear Dick: Yours just received requesting a sketch of the battle of Sunshine Church. I did not participate in the battle. I was detailed from the Army of Northern Virginia and sent to Georgia, my home State, to buy horses for the Confederate government for cavalry and artillery purposes. I was riding along looking for horses for sale eight or ten miles west of Milledgeville, when I distinctly and very unexpectedly, heard field artillery. I banished all thought of my mission and put out as fast as my horse would carry me in the direction to ascertain the meaning of the cannonading. The only weapon I had with me was my fine cavalry pistol. My idea was to serve as courier. After riding fifteen or twenty miles, my horse almost exhausted, I rode right into Iverson's command.

The battle had ceased, and I was told that Stoneman had surrendered near what is now known as Round Oak. Just at that time General Iverson was informed that one of Stoneman's regiments had stampeded. Iverson did not have men enough to make pursuit. He was busy rounding up the rest of Stoneman's command. Seeing that the fighting was over and no courier was needed, I, with several citizens, put out after the fleeing regiment, though not with any hope of catching them on their wild stampede. They made no effort to follow any road or path, but going east they ran over bushes, rail fences, and gullies.

After going about two miles, we came to a gulley in a pine thicket, about eight feet deep and twelve or fifteen wide, in which there were many horses and men, nearly all of which seemed to be dead. Those in front had filled the gulley, and the others passed over the gulley on the men and horses that filled it. One or two men and horses were killed in crossing a small branch on a pole bridge something like two miles beyond the big gulley mentioned.

The first three or four miles of the stampede the men seemed to have bunched pretty well, making a roadway about thirty feet wide. It was almost as clear of bushes, weeds, and everything of that kind as a regular public road. Even the ground rails of fences were torn from their places, and one could scarcely tell that there had ever been a fence there except by the fences on either side of the newly made road.

I was about to forget to state that the clothes of the men and the hide of the horses that filled the gulley already mentioned were badly torn by the shoes of the horses as they passed over them, the flesh of both being considerably mangled. I suppose there were twelve or fifteen horses piled in the gulley and half as many men. After about four miles of this wild and reckless riding, the trail became wider and wider and more dim. Here the stampeders crossed a large public road, where I left the trail and took the public road back to where I started from that morning.

I spent the afternoon and until nine or ten o'clock at night sending word to young ladies in the neighborhood and to two or three young boys to meet me at a designated point the next morning and we would take a horseback ride over the battlefield and trail of the stampeded Federals. The battlefield was a novel sight to the girls. The floor of Sunshine Church was almost covered with wounded soldiers. Horses, guns, pistols, and the like were to be seen all around, with now and then a dead soldier. When we reached the gulley that had been filled with men and horses, the awful sight caused nearly all of the girls to shed tears, and one or two almost collapsed. We followed the trail to where I left it the day before and farther on for about five miles. The stampeders took the second public road to Eatonton, where about two hundred of them stopped in the woods that night. They made their way back to Sherman's army.

When General Sherman's army passed through this section. several persons living here recognized several men who were with General Stoneman in the battle of Sunshine Church. These Yanks inquired particularly about Joe Funderbeck. Joe was at home on furlough, and his mother and sisters persuaded him to put on one of his mother's dresses as a disguise. Stoneman's men detected his disguise and captured him as a spy, and took him on the wild stampede to Eatonton to hang him, but Joe slipped away in the night. Joe says all his dress was torn off of him except the. collar, and his own clothes were badly torn on the wild ride.



The snow had been falling continuously for twenty foul hours when the day for the dedication ceremonies of the statue to Gen. Von Steuben (or Styben, as my German friends would say) came. The unveiling of a statue in Washington is quite an event, and something more than a mere foot of snow and ice is necessary to a postponement thereof, for on such occasions those of the nationality of which the hero to be honored is one come from their distant homes to take part in the exercises, and elaborate arrangements which cannot easily be broken into are made.

Gen. Von Steuben was aprussian, born in Magdeburg November 15, 1730, He served in the army of Frederick the Great, being appointed one of his aids de camp. In this position he made the most of his opportunities, and became so thoroughly efficient in the training and management of troops that St. Germain, the French Minister of War at the time. picked him out as the right man to introduce into the American army the discipline and training of which it stood in great need, Steuben was induced to meet him and Franklin in Paris in 1777, and consented to aid the American cause.

He landed at Portsmouth, N. H., in December, 1777, and. offering his services as a volunteer, was assigned to the army at Valley Forge, which at that time was in a deplorable state. He met at first with some opposition, but his skill and activity were soon appreciated, and in May, 1778, upon the recommendation of Washington, he was appointed inspector general of the Continental army with the rank of major general Under his instruction the American forces gained the confidence and efficiency that marked their victory in the battle of Monmouth, June 28, 1778, in which battle he greatly distinguished himself. During the winter of 1778 79 he wrote his "Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the Troops of the United States," which were adopted and ordered printed by Congress, His most valuable services in command of troops were rendered at the siege of Yorktown and in opposing the raids of Benedict Arnold in Virginia just prior to that siege.

At the close of the war he received grants of land from several States and later a tardy pension from Congress. The closing years of his life were spent on the grant of land made by the State of New York, now known as Steubenville, where. surrounded by a few faithful friends, he devoted himself to agriculture and scientific pursuits until his death, on November 28, 1794.

And so that the memory of such a contributor to our American liberty might be forever fresh in the minds of succeeding generations the Congress of the United States on February 27, 1903, appropriated $50,000 for this statue, to be expended under the direction of a commission. As a result of a competition participated in by six sculptors, the commission selected the model submitted by Albert Jaegers, an American of German parentage. The sculptor thus describes his work:

In the statue the general appears standing on an eminence inspecting the great maneuvers of 1778. He is heavily cloaked to endure the hardships of the rigorous winter campaign at Valley Forge. The sash is reminiscent of his service on the staff of Frederick the Great. His hand lightly at rest on the hilt of his sword, he is following with keen interest the unfolding movements of the troops. 

The group 'Military Instruction' represents Steuben's life work, the work for which this nation honors and remembers him the drilling and training of the American army. An experienced warrior is shown instructing a youth in the use of the sword.

In the second group, 'Commemoration,' America is teaching youth to honor the memory of her heroes. A foreign branch is grafted into the tree of her national life. She welds to her heart the foreigner who has cast his life and fortune with the weal and woe of her people, embodying the idea of unity and fraternity of all nationalities under the guidance of a great republic.

And on this the day on which Washington as the representative of the United States seeks to do him honor we have in our midst thousands of those of his home land who, have come to aid in the unveiling and celebration. From early daylight hundreds of white coated veterans of the streetcleaning department have been shoveling and hauling off the snow around the northwest corner of Lafayette Square, temporarily covered with a seating arrangement for those who have been fortunate enough to receive invitations, and an equally adequate standing area for all others who desire to be present.

Promptly at 1 :30 the music of the marine band started, and at 2 P.M. the opening song by the Northeastern Singers' Association, a chorus of a thousand voices, was heard. Then followed the formal opening of the exercises by the presiding officer, the Hon. Jacob McGavock Dickinson, an invocation by the Rev. Steck, and addresses by the Hon, Richard Bartholdt, M.C., Dr. Charles J. Hexamer, and the German Ambassador, Count J. H. Von Bernstorff, And then as the band triumphantly played the "Star Spangled Banner" "our young lady," as the Secretary of War termed her, Miss Helen Taft, drew the cord holding together the two large American flags, which as they unfurled forever opened to the view of the thousands who will pass that way the bronze likeness of another of those foreign gentlemen who did so much toward the gaining of that of which we have been the proud possessors since the time of George Washington freedom and liberty while over and above the cheers of the thousands present in the distance could be heard the salute by Battery E, 3d Field Artillery. Following the unveiling was an address by the President and then the benediction.

Despite the fact that the weather was anything but pleasant, Washington was never better represented than on this occasion. In the main stand, directly in front of the statue, were the President, Mrs. Taft, and Miss Helen Taft, the Secretary of War, the foreign ambassadors and diplomats, the families of the Supreme Court, and many other notables. In the stands to the right and left were seated people of almost every walk and station of life, while immediately in front were the thousand or more singers and many others standing, and the sidewalks, streets, and windows of neighboring houses were taxed to their capacity. Around the monument stood the representatives of the various stages of military life, from the Continental soldier to the present one. At the base of the statue were placed the floral offerings of the various German American societies, daintily, tied with streamers of red, white, and blue, and red, black, and white, the national colors of the two countries, the seating stands also being profusely decorated in a like manner. At the conclusion of the exercises an immense parade, participated in by the United States cavalry, artillery, and infantry, marine corps, and the representatives of the German and German American societies from over the entire country, was witnessed.CENTRAL FIGURE, ANDREW JACKSON, MUST REMAIN.

As before stated, the Von Steuben statue is situated on the northwest corner of Lafayette Square, the only park in Washington that has out its "standing room only" sign, for there now rests on each corner of this square a statue to the memory of some celebrated Revolutionary War hero Rochambeau, Lafayette, Kosciusko, and Von Steuben while in the center, sitting upon a rearing steed, is alikeness of the hero of the battle of New Orleans, Andrew Jackson, concerning which a few words may be said, inasmuch as the talk of removal of this statue has occasioned considerable comment.

Lafayette Square, it is generally known, is situated directly across Pennsylvania Avenue from the White House. Some say that this monument should be removed, as no statue should be placed therein save that of the father of our country, Washington. They forget when they make this assertion that there stand in the same square the aforementioned statues to our foreign heroes. Others say that because the rest of the statues in the park are of foreigners Jackson is out of place and should be removed, forgetting that he was there first and has the right of prior possession. Still others say that the statue should be removed because the "art is bad," and therefore unfit to represent such a hero as he of the battle of New Orleans. Knowing nothing of art, the last contention appears the strongest, but even if true, possibly art wasn't developed to the fantastic tastes of Washington's chronic critics at the time this statue was erected, and if it was "art" at the time of its creation, it should be kept standing to illustrate the "great development" of our race in this respect, if no better reason could be found. Who would dare picture Adam in a Prince Albert or Eve in a hobble skirt? The truth is that in Washington City many people have aught to do but amuse themselves, and their opinions are rarely taken seriously.

Andrew Jackson was the President of the United States. In Washington's time there was not the political strife which confronted Jackson. When Washington was President, file country had just marched victoriously from the Revolutionary War, and it was the "all pull together spirit," of peace and harmony, that characterized his administration. But. enough of that. Suffice it that Jackson was the President of the United States, and back in the fifties Congress authorized the erection of this monument to his memory. On the 8th of January, 1853, the anniversary of the Battle of New Orleans, it was dedicated in much the same manner as is detailed above. There has grown up about the statue a sentiment that must be respected. It has taken hold on the minds of the public, and any effort to remove it will and should result in failure. It has stood there many years now, and the upstanding horse is bolted down to stay. Should Jackson himself be able to speak, no doubt he would say as did Roderick Dhu: "Come one, come all, this rock shall fly ere I budge an inch."

When Theodore Roosevelt left the White House upon the termination of his term of office, one of his last acts was to have cut into the pedestal of this statue Jackson's well remembered toast: "Our Federal Union it must be preserved."

But enough has been said. Let me conclude. Tell your children and your children's children that the old statue cast from cannon taken by Jackson in his campaigns is today standing in the center of Lafayette Square, say to them that when they come to Washington it will still be standing there, and any effort in Congress to remove it will but result in a change in the name of the park from Lafayette to Jackson. The statue to our grand old Southern hero, whose last recorded words were, "May my enemies find peace! may the liberties of my country endure forever!" will not be disturbed, but shall stand until time is no more.


Some forty five years ago I was with a party of twelve or fifteen making our way, in accordance with instructions given by General Heth, through swamps, fields, and byways up and along the Appomattox River. We were members of the 14th Tennessee Regiment who had scaped from the lines to the right of Petersburg after a last desperate attempt to retake the works that had been captured by Grant's assaulting columns on April 2. The river was at flood stage, and we were seeking some means of crossing its turbid waters and thus put a barrier between us and the pursuing enemy, who were scouring the country and gathering in the fugitive Confederates who were making their way to Amelia C. H., where General Lee had given orders for us to assemble.

Our party had traveled some ten or twelve miles up the river, and at dusk on April 2 bivouacked on a hill overlooking the river. At early dawn we resumed our march, and about sunrise we were delighted to find ourselves on a much traveled road leading toward the river. As we hurriedly came in sight of the river we perceived the ends of the bridge on each side of it, the flood having carried away all the center. We were greatly disappointed over this, but found about a hundred fellow fugitives gathered just above the bridge, awaiting their turn to be put across in a small bateau, or skiff, with a carrying capacity of about six men at each trip. As we reached the crowd at the landing place and the boat was returning for another load of anxiously awaiting passengers a young cavalryman, holding his horse near the water's edge, called out that he had a seat in the boat for the next trip, and that if any one wanted to get across quickly he would let him swim his horse across. Being very anxious to "get over quick," I accepted the offer and divested myself of jacket, empty haversack, blanket, gun and cartridge box, and mounted the Virginia cavalryman's fine young mare. I rode in on the edge of the broken bridge and out into the raging flood, horse and rider going out of sight as we went off the bridge end. We came up all right and the noble animal made for the other shore, swimming "like a duck," as her owner had said she could. We landed safely, but had scarcely touched the bank when I heard the voice of the cavalryman calling: "Tennessee, O Tennessee! Wait there. Don't take my horse." And it just dawned on my mind, and I suppose on the mind of my young Virginia comrade, the great risk he took in intrusting his fine animal to a stranger whose leading desire at that time was to make speed, that desire being very much in creased by the sound of guns toward Petersburg, which seemed to be getting nearer every moment.
My young friend soon landed, and I turned his horse over to him, which he mounted and went on toward Amelia C. H. If he survived the war, which ended a very few days afterwards, and is still living, I should like to hear from him. In the lapse of years his name and the command to which he belonged have been forgotten, but he evidently was a true soldier and gentleman.








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Margie Daniels , Millie Stewart  and   Davine Cambpell  County Managers

Last date updated 04/10/2006

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