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Confederate Veteran

1893

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December 1893

TO THE fifty thousand persons who may read this VETERAN the head notes, "Greetings for Christmas"" Peace for the Future," are extended. The VETERAN greets every man who proudly bears its name, and every other hero who honors him for the sacrifice he has made. It greets every woman who toiled and prayed for his success, and the sons and daughters of Dixie who honor their ancestors in all they have done.

THERE are about 1,000 copies of the "Flags of a Nation that Fell," which will be supplied to those who subscribe first. These flags and copies of the picture of General Lee, on this VETERAN, or that of Mr. Davis, published in May, will be sent in neat cherry frame and glass for 30 cents. The flags and pictures are free, the charge is for frame and postage.

DISLODGE the sentiment that this publication is only for veterans. It should be more for those who were not in the War, since its contents will make them more patriotic and prouder of their ancestry. The war was not against the system of government to which all give allegiance now.

THIS number of the VETERAN will be sent to many friends and acquaintances in the hope that they will respond. Let each one, on throwing it down, consider that the paper alone cost $127.40, besides much other expense, thought, and labor. It merits attention.

STRAHL'S Brigade, as reported by B. F. Roberts in his Battle of Franklin, in last VETERAN, was comprised of more commands than reported, the Fourth, Fifth, Thirty first, Thirty third, and Thirty eighth Tennessee Regiments being of the Brigade, in addition to the commands mentioned. These regiments were consolidated and commanded by Col. Stafford.

A DEPLORABLE account is given of the Confederate Cemetery at Alton, III. The Benevolent Ex Confederate Camp, No. 304, have held a meeting, and they will at once look into it. At present cows graze over the graves of the dead soldiers, and the marks are nearly obliterated. The Alton Telegraph deserves the thanks of all Confederates and patriots for giving notice of its condition.

THE Reunion of United Confederate Veterans to have occurred in 1893 and postponed, it has been officially announced, will occur Wednesday and Thursday, April 25 and 26, 1894. This may be looked to as the most important event of the year. The attendance will no doubt be very large, and of the most representative class of Confederates that will ever assemble again. Gen. Cabell writes from Texas that he hopes to secure a large attendance from the reunion there to the formal dedication of the handsome monument at Chicago erected to our six thousand heroes who died in prison at Camp Douglas.

THE splendid picture of the Daniel Boone Statue, in November VETERAN, was presented with pride in the gifted daughter of a Kentucky Confederate, who secured one of the three medals given to women by the management of the great Exposition. The dedication of the statue was a most interesting event. When Col. R. T. Durrett, who was selected to unveil it, had given an interesting sketch of the life of Daniel Boone he grasped the ropes and, giving them a vigorous jerk, the American flag which had enfolded the statue parted and fell to its feet. A great shout went up, and there were calls for Miss Yandell, who appeared for a moment on the balcony overlooking her artistic creation.

She was jauntily attired in a tailor made suit of blue serge, wearing a white vest, standing collar, four in hand tie and black derby hat. Her eyes danced with pride, but she could not be induced to speak. She bowed her acknowledgments and, with Mrs. Potter Palmer, who accompanied her to the building, left the balcony and joined friends below.

Col. W. O. Bradley, the orator of the day, while speaking of eminent men of the State, said:

'' From Kentucky came the two chief actors in our last memorable struggle Lincoln and Davis. The one, imbued with the zealous faith of Peter the hermit, wielded the ax of Richard, the other, endowed with the chivalry of Bayard, wielded the scimiter of Saladin. It is not proper at this time that we should enter into a discussion of the cause or merit of that great conflict. Nature, with vines and flowers, has obliterated every mark that defaced the landscape, the roar of cannon has been succeeded by the sad, sweet notes of the dove, while time has healed every wound, and with fingers kindly deft erased malicious hate from every heart.
THE Constitution and By laws of United American Veterans, of which Camp one is located at Eagle Pass, Texas, is worthy of commendation. The VETERAN volunteers, without interposition, this note: The United Confederate organization has very important work in hand, and as before stated, the VETERAN considers it would complicate matters injuriously to form this broader brotherhood at present, but it prophesies that the time will come when such an organization will do patriotic service.

IT is impracticable to publish all that has been written in refutation of an article in the VETERAN by Mr. Yarbrough on "Memorable Events of the War," Occasionally notes are made wherein some interesting historic event is brought out. It has already been explained that his article failed of revision because of the editor's illness. One thing is stated in behalf of the author of those notes: He is in ill health, and procured the data from an unreliable source, but he is loyal to the cause espoused by the VETERAN.

STATES prominent in membership of the Grand Army of the Republic publish rosters, just as do the United Confederate Veterans, for the entire brotherhood. The State plan is a good one.

Review of the last report of Trustees for the Soldiers' Home in Massachusetts has been deferred. There is much in it interesting. It illustrates how charity may be extended to the survivors of a successful army quite in contrast to our methods at the South. And yet we are doing splendidly by maimed Confederates. The Confederate Soldiers' Home at Pikesville, Maryland, may be the pride of the United States. An account of it is promised for the January VETERAN. It will be a surprise and a pride to many Southerners.

CAMP STEWART, of Peidmont, Ala., was named to commemorate the soldierly virtues of John Thomas, Samuel Davis, and Newton Stewart, brothers, and their nephew, Alexander Oliver Stewart, the first two of whom died on the field of honor with their faces to the foe, and "have since been joined by the other two in the shade on the other side of the river." At the organization of this Camp there were 48 members.

IN connection with the sketch of Gen. Gideon J. Pillow, in November VETERAN, it is worthy of note that a bitter controversy between him and Gen. Winfield Scott grew out of Pillow's way of throwing dirt for breastworks. His plan was that adopted by both armies during the Confederate war, making the ditch outside of the works instead of throwing the dirt to the front and having the men stand in the ditch.

IT was not from indifference that notice was not given of the theft at Chicago of the Confederate flag from an engine that figures in the history of the Johnston Sherman campaign between Dalton and Lovejoy, below Atlanta. The " Major" Brown who even boasted of his theft did not merit the notoriety that was given him. Such vandalism is deprecated by the true Union as much as Confederate element.

INTRODUCTORY to an article by Dr. S. H. Stout, Medical Director of the Army of Tennessee, upon Medical Service in the Confederate States Army, he states:

Tennessee did "not secede from the Union. When President Lincoln, after the fall of Fort Sumter, called upon her Governor for 75,000 troops, the conditional Union men throughout the middle and western sections of the State, who denied the right of peaceable secession, agreed to the declaration of a revolution with the view of forming an alliance with the Confederate States. After an overwhelming majority of the people voted, in the midsummer of 1861, for "separation" (mark you, not "secession"), an alliance was formed with the government of which Jefferson Davis was President. Tennessee in this way became one of the Confederate States, and her provisional army was turned over to the Richmond Government.

Two ERRORS have been reported in the article about Col. Rhett and Fort Sumter in November VETERAN. The distance of the Gilmore battery was four thousand instead of four hundred yards, and the statement that there were no earthworks within the walls is corrected with the statement that there had been a good deal of work done in strengthening the walls of the fort by packing cotton bales and masses of sand against the interior of the walls. The author of the article wishes this correction "in justice to Mr. Johnson," the historian, who was the engineer at Fort Sumter. The error of statement occurred in failure to discriminate between the earthworks protecting walls and the work of making the bomb proofs. Col. Rhett's brother gives an interesting sketch in this VETERAN.

A BRIEF SKETCH Of GEN. R. E LEE.

By J. Wm. Jones

In complying with the request of the editor of the CONFEDERATE VETERAN to furnish a short sketch of our grand old chieftain, R. E. Lee, the difficulty is not want of ample material, but to compress within the required space even a small part of the things which crowd mind, memory and heart whenever we think of

The knightliest of the knightly race, 
Who since the days of old, 
Have kept the fires of chivalry, 
Aglow in hearts of gold.

The son of ''Light Horse Harry Lee" of the Revolution, and descended from a long line of illustrious ancestors who played conspicuous parts in English History, a careful Genealogist has traced his ancestry back to King Robert the Bruce.

But ROBERT EDWARD LEE needs no royal lineage to fix his place in history, or account for his stainless character and noble deeds, for he was himself a born leader, a very King of Men, and derives no lustre from even royal ancestry.

So bright, cheerful and manly as a boy he met so fully his obligations at school and home that his widowed mother exclaimed, when he was leaving for the Military Academy at West Point, " How can I do without Robert? He is both son and daughter to me."

He passed through the academy and graduated second in a brilliant class without ever receiving a single demerit. Of the bright galaxy of American officers in the Mexican war, no other won greater fame, or performed more distinguished service. He was covered with " brevets" for "gallant and meritorious service," and General Scott did not hesitate to speak of him as "the very best soldier I ever saw in the field."

In 1852 he became Superintendent of the Military Academy at West Point, and introduced a number of changes, and reforms which abundantly showed his capacity as Superintendent of the Academy, and manager of young men.

In 1855 the famous "Second Cavalry" Regiment was formed, and Hon. Jefferson Davis, then Secretary of War appointed to it that splendid corps of officers among whom were Albert Sidney Johnston, Colonel, Robert Edward Lee) Lieutenant Colonel, Geo. H. Thomas, and Wm. J. Hardee, Majors, Earl Van Dorn, John B. Hood, E. Kirby Smith, Stoneman, and others, Captains, and Fitz. Lee, and others, Lieutenants.

Happening at home on furlough he was sent to Harper's Ferry to command the Marines who captured John Brown who was then "firing the first gun" of the great war that was to follow.

In March 1861 he came from his regiment on the frontier of Texas, in obedience to orders summoning him to Washington, and was made full Colonel of Cavalry. General Scott and other friends used all of their influence to induce him to " stand by the old flag," and he was offered the supreme command of the Federal army in the field. But although not a secessionist, and ardently attached to the Union, and the old flag and saying emphatically, "If the millions of slaves in the South were mine I would free them with a stroke of the pen to avert this war," he promptly replied to Mr. Lincoln's messenger, the elder Blair, " I cannot bear arms against my state, my home, my children." He went at once to General Scott, told him his decision, resisted all of his entreaties, and the next day wrote his famous letter of resignation.
He was made Commander in Chief of the Virginia forces by the " Virginia Convention," and afterward full General in the Confederate Army, Gens. Sidney Johnston and Cooper ranking him. His services in organizing the new levees (in the West Virginia campaign, where the failure was due to causes beyond his control), and in preparing the sea coast fortifications of South Carolina and Georgia for the magnificent defense they afterward made, were all invaluable, but may not be detailed here.

When Gen. J. E. Johnston was wounded at Seven Pines the last of May, 1862, and Gen. Lee put in command of the Army of Northern Virginia, the situation was perilous in the extreme. McClellan, with 105,000 men, was strongly fortified within sight of the spires of Richmond, with 10,000 more men at Fortress Monroe, and McDowell's column of 40,000 which was to have moved down from Fredericksburg, only detained by the brilliant "valley campaign" of Stonewall Jackson. Lee's plans were soon formed and brilliantly executed. Sending Stuart on his famous " ride around McClellan," he secured the information he wanted as to the enemy's position, ordered Jackson to join him, concentrated other troops which swelled his numbers to 78,000 (the largest army he ever commanded) and then, by a series of splendid maneuvers and brilliant victories, forced McClellan to cower under the cover of his gunboats at Harrison's Landing, defeated John Pope on the plains of Manassas, drove his army into the fortifications at Washington, and sent him to fight Indians in the West, and persecute gallant Fitz John Porter at Washington. Then followed the advance into Maryland, the capture of Harper's Ferry, the battle of Sharpsburg. where Lee, with 33,000 men, defeated every effort of McClellan's 87,000 to drive him from the field, and the battle of first Fredericksburg, where those plains were made forever historic as "Burnside's slaughter pen."

In May, 1863, Lee, with 52,000 men, won over Hooker's 132,000 the splendid victory of Chancellorsville, attacking Hooker in his entrenchments and driving him pellmell across the river. Then followed the Pennsylvania campaign, in which Lee captured Milroy's garrison, artillery, wagons, and immense supplies at Winchester, and with 62,000 men fought Meade's 105,000 at Gettysburg, where he won a decided victory on the first day, gained important advantages on the second day, and was defeated on the third day, only because (as he always believed and said to his intimate friends) of the failure of Longstreet to carry out his orders.

In the campaign of 1864 Gen. Grant had more than 275,000 men in four converging columns (in Southwestern Virginia, the Valley, Culpeper, and up the James), which set out simultaneously to capture Richmond, and the world never saw armies more splendidly equipped. To oppose this mighty host Gen. Lee could muster, all told, during the campaign, scarce 75,000 men, destitute of every thing save the heroic courage and patient endurance of as true soldiers as history records. The result of the summer campaign was that after losing more men than Lee had Grant sat down to the siege of Petersburg a position which he might have taken at first without firing a shot or losing a man while Lee made his lines impregnable to a direct assault, and sent Earley's Corps to defeat Hunter and threaten Washington. He had outgeneraled Grant at every point and defeated him in every battle. Then followed the siege of Petersburg and that slow process of "attrition" by which Lee's army was reduced to 33,000 half starved men to hold over forty miles of breastworks, and the thin lines were stretched until they broke, the retreat to Appomattox begun, and 7,800 ragged, starved heroes stacked their bright muskets, parked their blackened guns (nearly every piece wrested from the enemy in battle two of them that very morning), and yielded to the "overwhelming numbers and resources" which surrounded them.

But grand as he was in war, Lee was even grander in peace. Refusing every offer of pecuniary assistance, he only sought a place for honest work, and accepted the Presidency of Washington College, Lexington, Va., where, as he expressed it, he "could teach young men to do their duty in life." He was only spared to fill this position five years, but even that brief time (I do not hesitate to declare from personal observation and careful study) he proved himself the greatest college President this country ever produced. It was my privilege to follow his standard during the war, and to see something of him during those stirring days, but my prouder privilege to know him intimately during the five years of his life in Lexington, and to have had free access to his private letters and papers. I speak, then, from careful personal observation and full study of his character and career, when I unhesitatingly pronounce him not only the greatest soldier but the noblest gentleman) the truest patriot, the purest man that ever figured in American history. And far above all this, he was one of the humblest, sincerest, most consecrated Christians whom I ever met. Taking Christ as his personal Savior, and fully trusting in him alone for salvation, he was a constant reader and student of God's word, a man of prayer, an earnest and efficient worker for the salvation of others,"an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile," who lived and died in the service of the Great Captain, and now wears his glittering crown.

That crown with fadeless glories bright,

Which shall new luster boast

When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems

Shall blend in common dust.

University of Virginia, Nov. 28, 1893.

Senator Ben Hill is credited with this tribute: He possessed every virtue of the other great commanders without their vices. He was a foe without bate, a friend without treachery, a soldier without cruelty, and a victim without murmuring. He was a public officer without vices, a private citizen without wrong, a neighbor without reproach, a Christian without hypocrisy, and a man without guile. He was Caesar without his ambition, Frederick without his tyranny, Napoleon without his selfishness, and Washington without his reward. He was obedient to authority as a servant, and royal in authority as a true king. He was gentle as woman in life, modest and pure as a virgin in thought, watchful as a Roman vestal in duty, submissive to law as Socrates, and grand in battle as Archilles

J. J. Callan, of the "Old South," Coleman, Texas, sends twenty seven subscriptions. He adds: I am anxious to put Coleman at the head of the list in Texas. He concludes with earnest appeal for " duty to the dear CONFEDERATE VETERAN."

THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM SHARPSBURG.

Gen. H. Heth, of the "Antietam Board," War Department, sends a superb map of the battle ground with this letter:

Washington, D. C., Nov. 29, 1893. Editor CONFEDERATE VETERAN, Nashville, Tenn.

Sir: Inclosed please find map No. I, first of a series, illustrating the battle of Antietam, or Sharpsburg, fought September 17, 1862. Working under an act of Congress we (the Board) are engaged in marking the lines of battle of the Union and Confederate Armies engaged in that great battle, the bloodiest of the war. It was a breast to breast fight, no breastworks were used except the natural breastworks that the field afforded. More men were placed hors de combat on that day than on any other one day of the war. At Gettysburg, Chancellorsville, and Spottsylvania the fighting covered three days, or more, at the Wilderness, Cold Harbor, Shiloh, Stones River, Chickamauga and Atlanta the losses were divided between two days, but the bloody work at Antietam, or Sharpsburg, commenced at daybreak and ended about 4 o'clock the same day. Gen. Lee, in his report of this battle, says, page 151, Vol. XIX., War Records, "This great battle was fought by less than 40,000 men on our side." Gen. Lee displayed in this battle what a consummate master he was of grand tactics, absolutely necessary on this day, as he was outnumbered more than two to one.

The Tennessee infantry regiments engaged in the battle of Sharpsburg were the First Tennessee (Provisional Army), Seventh and Fourteenth, Jackson's Corps, Hill's (A. P.) Division, Archer's Brigade.

Mrs. H. G. Hollenberg, of Little Rock, wrote from Chicago: " It may interest you to know that I am doing excellent work in extending the membership of the Ladies' Hermitage Association here, among the patriotic men and women assembled from every State in this great Union, which our dear old hero said ' Must and shall be preserved.' Louisiana worthily leads in numbers of World's Fair acquisitions to our list of members. I placed the famous sword, known as the 'Battle of New Orleans Sword,' in the custody of Colonel Richardson, of the gallant Washington Artillery, on the day of the dedication of the State building, when the flower of Louisiana soldiery was drawn up in brilliant array before their beautiful State building, and it has remained in the custody of Louisiana up to this time, awakening interest and enthusiasm in the work of the Ladies' Hermitage Association, viz.: preservation of the home and perpetuating the memory of Andrew Jackson."

Orangeburg, S. C. Sept. 21.: "A beautiful monument about thirty five feet high was unveiled here recently. The typical Confederate at the top in bronze stands at "rest on arms" facing Russell Street. The pose was taken from Capt. J. D. Palmer, of Hampton Legion, who stood for the statue. Capt. Palmer was shot entirely through, but is still in fair health, and proud of his record, Capt. John A. Hamilton, with his wife, organized the first monument association about five years ago. The county united under the various associations of ladies and raised over $6,000. A suitable public demonstration was had at the unveiling. A full account of the ceremony was sent the VETERAN.

THE SOUTH' S GREAT BATTLE ABBEY.

MISS CAMILLE WILLIAMS, JACKSON, Jackson, Tenn.

Gather the sacred dust

Of the warriors tried and true,

Who bore the flag of a nation's trust

And fell in a cause, though lost, still just,

And died for me and you.

As a nation progresses in civilization and enlightenment, so will its reverence for its dead be shown. As far back as the days of Edward the Confessor we find the germ of a national burying ground for England in. the beginning of Westminster Abbey. In that spot, dear to the hearts of all in whose veins runs the blood of the Anglo Saxon, lie entombed the greatest and best that Englishmen as well as Americans hold dear. The tomb of the monarch, statesman, poet, priest and soldier lie there, and no spot of that green island is so dear to the hearts of her people as that which contains the graves of her honored dead.

It is the pride and glory of every Frenchman to point to that spot made sacred by the resting place of the great Napoleon. And to no day in their history do they point with greater tenderness than to that on which all that is mortal of the great world conqueror was deposited beneath the lilies of his much loved country.

Egypt, once the seat of the world's civilization, had the tombs of her Pharaohs. Scotland, brought home the heart of Robert Bruce and reverently entombed it in Melrose Abbey. And so carefully did Spain preserve the haughty figure and stern lineaments of the Cid Campeador, that at one time when the enemies of his country were about to prevail over her armies the body of the stern old warrior placed in front of the host he had once led to victory spread confusion and dismay throughout the ranks of the foe. It is to this principle of reverence for the dead and their last resting places that we owe the deathless spirit of patriotism, that spirit which makes a man love his country next to his God, and bids him welcome death in preference to dishonor.

The love of country itself is not more deeply intertwined with the most sacred feelings of the human heart than that love which makes a shrine of patriot graves. It is this feeling which for nearly one hundred years has caused the hearts of Americans to turn reverently to that spot on the gently flowing Potomac, made holy by the grave of the father of his country. And it is that feeling which caused the South, only a few short months ago to witness the most solemn pageant that ever wound over her flower decked hills and perfumed valleys. No spectacle of the closing years of the nineteenth century is more imposing than that of carrying the dead chieftain of the Confederacy back to the spot where the most stirring scenes in the great four years' drama were enacted that drama in which he was the most conspicuous figure, and which ended so tragically at Appomattox.

The leader in our glorious wars

Was now to glorious burial slowly borne.

And henceforth to all true Southern hearts, what Melrose Abbey is to Scotland, Westminster to England, and the glorious Pantheon to France, will be that silent city of the dead where Jefferson Davis sleeps among 12,000 of his comrades, heroes of the lost cause. At last the South has her Battle Abbey, and though she may not gather within it all who laid down their lives for love of her, the tomb of her chieftain will, in the slowly revolving years, be looked upon as the representative tomb of that cause for which men poured out their life's best blood.

Listen to the South, weeping for them still, her forgotten braves. Louisiana, who rocked him so tenderly to her heart, fanning his brow with the perfumed breath of her orange groves. And Mississippi, how she wept to give up her favorite son, the one who, above all others, has shed luster on her name. The soft swell of the Gulf bursts like a sob from her bosom, the mighty roll of the Father of Waters joins in the sad refrain, and pointing to the green covered mounds at Shiloh and Vicksburg, and a hundred other well fought fields, she cried in tones tremulous with sadness:

List, sons, your watch is long,

The soldier's guard was brief,

Whilst right is right and wrong is wrong

You may not seek relief.

Go, wearing the gray of grief,

Go, watch o'er the dead in gray,

Go, guard the private and the chief,

And sentinel his clay.

Virginia, the grand old mother of the South, has gathered to her bosom the mightiest of the sons of valor. In the shadow of her lofty mountain pines sleeps Robert E. Lee, the kingliest soul that ever drew sword in the cause of truth and justice. In her arms also nestles the lofty Christian hero, Stonewall Jackson, who murmured when dying, " Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees." Here, too, sleeps the Prince Rupert of Southern cavaliers, Stuart, the gay and gifted cavalryman, one of Stonewall's band in life, and sleeping under the same green coverlid in death. And what pen could describe in fitting terms the numberless green hillocks whose only designation are the mystic letters, " C. S. A." How wonderful, how passing strange, that those letters, so proudly, so fondly worn and cherished once, should now represent only the shadow of an empire. What deeds of sacrifice, of valor, and of honor wrought for them, " C. S. A." It was no shadow to those who followed Lee, and the Johnstons, and Stonewall Jackson, and Bedford Forrest, for four long and bloody years. It was no shadow to those who, dying, blessed it with their latest breath, believing that victory, like an overshadowing halo, had crowned the offering of their lives. It was no shadow, that which floated over valiant armies, wasted at last by disease, hardships, and death, overpowered by armies recruited from the world's enlisting grounds, and it is no shadow to us to whom it is committed to treasure up the memory of those who died for us, who threw themselves, for the sake of Fatherland, into the imminent deadly breach, and instead of victory found a grave. Shall not those graves be sacred to Southern hearts?

We care not whence they came, .

Dear in their lifeless clay.

Whether unknown or known to fame,

Their cause and country still the same,

They died wearing the gray.

362 Confederate Veteran December 1893.

CHICKAMAUGA BATTLE FIELD

SNODGRASS RIDGE.

BY GEO. E. DOLTON, 18 S. MAIN ST., ST. LOUIS, MO.

In the light furnished by official figures, we find that the battle of Chickamauga was one of the bloodiest battles of the war, if not the bloodiest, in pro portion to the number of troops engaged, that it was far bloodier than even Gettysburg.

Of all the battles, none were so seriously confused as to where the various regiments and brigades fought as at Chickamauga on the two days of the battle, and of all that confusion worse confounded, no other portion of the field compares with what is known by the various names of Snodgrass, Horse Shoe, Missionary, and Battery Ridge. In the assaults upon and defense of the ridge the troops on both sides so frequently changed places, and were so often commingled with other troops, that the various places fought over by any one command, is still, after thirty years, in doubt in the minds of nearly all the participants,

Monuments marking where each command is supposed to have done its hardest fighting are being located on the field, but on account of the chaotic jumble of the battle along and on the ridge on Sunday afternoon of September 20, 1863, much of the allotment of place is mere guesswork. I have for several years, as time would permit, been endeavoring to correctly locate every command that was engaged in any part of the battle, and to aid in the work have made and sent out very many maps of portions and the whole field for those engaged to mark on where they fought, as nearly as possible, and to send the same to me.

I made a hurried survey of the ridge and from that produced the map herewith. I think it will be found near enough to absolute correctness to enable any one who took part in that portion of the battle, and who can recall any of the localities where he was, to mark the same on the map.

I respectfully request every one who was engaged on any part of the field covered by this map, to please drop me a postal card, giving the command to which he belonged, and present address, stating how many of the maps he would like, and I will mail them to him free of charge. In return I wish him to mark one showing all the places he can recall where he was, stating the command with which he was then connected, company or battery, regiment and brigade, and give as nearly as possible the hour of the day when he was at each place. Also state, if possible, the troops on each flank at each time, and also the troops he confronted at each position, if he knows, and return the map so marked to me. I will be deeply grateful to every one who will assist me in this manner to positively determine how, when, and where each command was engaged in that portion of the battle, and any thing I can do in the way of furnishing information, etc., regarding that or any other engagement of the war, I shall be most happy to supply. See key to this map on following page.

EY TO SKETCH OF SNODGRASS RIDGE.

The parallel lines are 200 feet apart. At Figure 13 the ridge is about 200 feet above the bed of the creek, where the wood road crosses it at the Vidito House. It is about the same height at Figures 4, 7, 9, and 12. At Figure 14 it is about 275 feet high, and at Figure 15 it is fully 350 feet high.

At A, on the ridge running north and south through the Dyer Farm, is where the nine Union cannon were captured in the forenoon of Sunday, September 20th, when Gen. Bushrod Johnson was scouring the Dyer field. At about the most southern part of that ridge shown, is where he captured the large pile of Federal knapsacks, and just to the west of it is where he had one cannon placed in the Vidito field, which shelled the Union wagon train then trying to pass through the gap at Vidito's, at Figure 16, resulting in the capture of the train.

Figure 17 is the broad, high, long ridge on the west side of the Crawfish Spring Road, over which General Hindman's men drove General Sheridan, and on which Hindman halted, and from which his troops moved to the right or east and joined Gen. Bushrod Johnson in the assault on Snodgrass Ridge.

Figure 13 is the largest Spur of the ridge to the south. Across this, General Deas Brigade was formed and advanced toward Figure 11, where the Federal battery of three guns stood.

Figure 12 is where the Twenty second Alabama Infantry left its flag on one of its charges.

Figure 10 is the lowest portion of the ridge, and is where the brigades of Kelly and Trigg crossed at dusk and passed to the east along the north side of the ridge and then advanced up to the south and captured the Twenty first and Eighty ninth Ohio and the Twenty second Michigan Infantry. From Figure 10 to Figure II, for a considerable distance to the south, the land is almost level, so that the two sides fighting on that part of the ridge were on nearly an equality as regards lay of land, but from Figure 10 around to near the Snodgrass House, the ridge is very high, with considerable prominences at Figures 9, 7, and 4, and depressions at Figures 8 and 5, and troops thereon would have a decided advantage over an attacking force.

At Figure 7 are some 'citizens' graves that were a very prominent landmark for many during the battle.

The Federal General, G. H. Thomas, was at Figure 2 the greater portion of the day, his headquarters being at Figure 3.

Figure 1 is the extreme eastern end of Snodgrass Ridge, and slopes regularly and gradually to the level plain, from Snodgrass House.

Figure 6 is where a body of Confederates wearing a bluish uniform struck a regiment of Federals armed with Henry rifles, and were the first Confederates to reach Snodgrass Ridge. Who were they?

At Figure 9 there was a body of about one hundred Confederates lying on the summit of the ridge at the time that General Granger's Union reserve brigades, under General Steedman, were advancing toward the west along the wood road to the north of the ridge. When the column was well abreast of these Confederates, they arose and fired at the Federal column, the infantry of which immediately formed line and began to charge up the ridge, but were halted by General Steedman before half way up, and were then led along to the west, forming line along the ridge from Figures 10 to 11, placing two guns of a battery near Figure 10, three guns at Figure 11, and one gun a little to the east of Figure 11. What Confederate troops are those on the ridge at Figure 9 that fired as above stated?

At Figure 18 is a spring of water. Near this, General Dias' Brigade bivouacked at night after the battle, establishing a picket post of about forty men on top of the ridge, near Figure 15.

ANOTHER LETTER.

Geo, E. Dolton, St. Louis, Nov. 27: "I am very anxious to obtain some information regarding an incident in the battle of Chickamauga, and know of no better place to apply than through the columns of the CONFEDERATE VETERAN. Just before Gen. Bushrod Johnson began his right wheel movement on the west end of Snodgrass Hill on Sunday afternoon of September 20, 1863, as the head of General Granger's Union reserve forces was moving along the north side of the ridge toward the west end of it, there was a body of perhaps a hundred Confederates on the third prominence in the ridge west of Snodgrass house the prominence on which the three Union regiments, Twenty second Michigan, and Twenty first and Eighty ninth Ohio, were captured after dusk. As the Union column was marching past these Confederates they rose up and fired down on the Union men. At this the Federal infantry started on a charge up the ridge, but were halted by General Steedman, and marched to the end of the ridge. The troops following this portion of the Federal column charged up and over the hill until they struck the advancing column of Confederates, when they were themselves driven back up and over the hill. What I desire to know is, who were the Confederate troops that were on the ridge and fired on the Federal column, to what regiment did they belong, and who was in command of them? I should like very much to correspond with the survivors, and any assistance you can give me to this end I shall be very grateful for."

George B. Lake. Edgefield, S. C., writes: "I am Treasurer of Abner Perrin Camp, and I offered a resolution, which was adopted, making the VETERAN our official organ. I was in the first regiment organized in the war Gregg's First Regiment, S. C. V. I saw the first gun fired on Fort Sumter, and was continuously in the service. I commanded the company immediately in rear of the four gun battery that was blown up at Petersburg, Va., July 30, 1864, when myself and my thirty four men were buried. Thirty one men were killed by the explosion, and myself and the other three live men were dug out by the enemy after they captured the works. I was sent from there to Fort Delaware, and released first July, 1865, after the war had ended. Gregg's First Regiment, S. C. V. was a six months' regiment. The company I commanded at Petersburg the day of the explosion was of the Twenty second, S. C. V., Co. B."

Thomas S. Vinson, Gallatin, Tenn.: "This makes fifty subscriptions to the VETERAN that I have sent you. Has any one else done better? If so, let us have his or her name in the VETERAN, and perhaps we can get up a spirit of rivalry that will rapidly enlarge your subscription list." (W. D. Matthews, of Jacksonville, Fla., has the championship so far in having sent more than one hundred at full price, like Mr. Vinson and many others. Mr. C. Washington, of Galveston, Texas, sends fifty at close of November.

BURNING A BRIDGE OVER THE RAPPAHANNOCK

Capt. Samuel D. Buck. of Baltimore, gives a thrilling account of his experience in destroying a bridge over the Rappahannock River. The Sun says:

Captain Buck was then a lieutenant in Company H, "Boomerangs," of Winchester (Va.) Thirteenth Virginia Regiment, at that time in General Pegram's brigade, Army N. Va. He is a native of Warren County, Va., and has since the war resided in Baltimore. He received his commission as captain a short time after the performance of this gallant and dangerous feat. On the 7th of November, 1863, the two armies confronted each other on the Rappahannock River, the Federal being on the north bank and the Confederate on the south, except at the crossing near Rappahannock Station, where a Louisiana brigade occupied a fort on the north bank, communicating with the remainder of the division by a pontoon bridge. On the afternoon of November 7th Sedgwick's Federal corps of 20,000 men was hurled against this Louisiana brigade, and many of them were captured, the remainder escaping by the bridge.

The bridge had been unsuccessfully fired, and matters presented a most serious aspect. This was the situation when night put a temporary stop to hostilities. Captain Buck and thirteen men who volunteered to assist him in the desperate undertaking were complimented by Gen. R. E. Lee in general orders before the Army of Northern Virginia and granted furloughs of thirty days. The event is related by Captain Buck:

After the enemy had been repulsed in his attempt to cross the bridge, everything was for a time quiet. Our batteries on the south side of the river were in a fort well inclosed. General Early rode back a short distance in the field, when suddenly a terrific fire from the enemy's guns was opened on the fort. It was now dark, ana the shot and bursting shell came thick and fast, illuminating the heavens as they exploded. As soon as the fire ceased our regiment, the old Thirteenth Virginia, moved forward and down the hill in front of the fort to within about one hundred yards of the river and immediately in front of the pontoon bridge. The ground being light sandy soil, the men soon dug holes and were well protected while awaiting another attack. The voices of the yankees at the north end of the bridge could be plainly heard. We lay here a few minutes, when an officer from the Forty ninth ("Extra Billy" Smith's old regiment) came down and walked up boldly to the bridge. In a moment a slight blaze sprang up and exposed him to the view of the enemy, and in an instant he was fired upon and fell back in much haste. By 9 o'clock the fire was entirely out, the bridge could be repaired in a few minutes and Sedgwick's corps be upon us.

While on this last flank movement, Gen. John Pegram had taken command of our brigade. The question between Generals Early and Pegram was being discussed as to the destruction of the bridge before we began to fall back. I do not know hat passed, but about midnight I heard the adjutant of our regiment, with Captain Wilson, A. A. G. of the brigade, and Major Hale, A. A. G. to General Early, calling for me. Answering at once, they came and we met, when Major Hale spoke to me, saying: " General Early has sent me to you to request that you destroy that bridge. He would not order you to do so." Of course I felt it a great compliment, as I was the youngest officer in the command. At the same time I was entirely at a loss as to what to do or how to proceed. The request I construed into an order in complimentary disguise. Major Hale would not advise me as to how I should act in the matter. At this moment General Early came to where we were standing, which was a few paces in the rear of the regiment, and in a few words he repeated substantially about what Major Hale had said, except he added, "You can have all the men you need if they will volunteer," but he would not order them.

I then discussed matters with General Pegram, who had also joined us. All seemed to desire that I should decide upon my course of action. I did not confer with anyone else, but while we were talking I had made up my mind what to do that was, to get volunteers, fight my way to the bridge, then, while my men were firing upon the enemy, I, with a few picked men, would set fire to the bridge. It was understood that as soon as I was fired on General Pegram would have the brigade open fire, and in this way draw the fire from me to some extent.

Having selected thirteen volunteers, I had in the meantime concluded that the burning party should not carry arms, but go for the distinct purpose of firing the bridge, and let the brigade do the shooting. This having been agreed upon, and while every man in the brigade rested in the trenches, with orders to open on the enemy the moment he fired on me, I moved my force of thirteen bold, game men as ever lived up to the bridge, or very near to it. I had removed my boots, sword, pistol and coat, so as to be able to go as far on the bridge as possible without attracting attention. I left my worldly effects where I took them off, with but little idea of having any further use for them.

Desiring to give as much protection as possible to my men, and more desirous to be successful, I left them in the position just taken. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled up to the bridge, then got as close as possible to the ground, and snake like, pulled myself along and on to the flooring. Reaching the first boat, I took out my knife and cut the rope that fastened it to the shore above, and in this way crept from boat to boat, cutting every rope to within a few yards of the enemy's side of the shore. I could hear every word they said and every step their guard took, and imagined they could hear me breathe, or my hair pushing my cap up.

Having done all I could in this direction I retraced, or rather re snaked, my way, and was soon back with my trusty, brave fellows, but all was as still as death. Taking Charley Seevers, of Winchester, of my own company, I went down under the bridge, telling him to conform to my movements. Going down the embankment to the edge of. the water, some six feet, I felt my way and examined closely the bridge supports, looking for a good place to be fired. I discovered scarcely a sign of fire, all had gone out as far as I could see. Warning Seevers to keep the men perfectly quiet, not even to whisper, I got under the plank flooring, Seevers almost touching me. I took a long board from the bridge, resting one end on the bank and the other on the first support, some ten feet over the water. Upon this plank I crawled out and found the best point to work on in position, but how to set a plank on fire with a match was a question, and how to coax a fire with splinters under the very muzzles of a regiment of the enemy's muskets was still more of a mystery. I did not fancy this work, but it must be done.

Being unable to get anything to start a fire with, I had Seevers go back and ask General Pegram to form a regiment of men on to my noble thirteen and make a continuous line across the field and pass the hay and anything that would make a quick fire. While this was being done I sat on the board with both feet in the water, wondering best what to do. Death seemed almost inevitable. The first volley from the enemy after starting the fire would probably tumble me into the river. In the meantime Seevers had obeyed orders, and the first installment over my improvised line was a lot of hay and cotton from the artillery. Only a handful at a time came, but soon I had an abundance. I placed it, as it came, in every crevice I could reach, and quite a lot did I get in and around those bridge sleepers. All done and not a suspicion on the part of the enemy of our presence.

So far so well, but how to fire it was the question. My brave fellows could be of no further use to me, so I told Seevers to take them back and tell General Pegram I would wait for him to get his men in position. I shall never forget my feelings when those men left. Not a single word was spoken, and in the awful stillness of that cold, biting November night I gave up almost every hope of ever getting back alive, and can appreciate how a man feels who has been condemned to die, only without the sting of guilt.

Waiting a few moments indeed longer, as I knew it would take considerable time for the men to get back to the trenches from my line, which extended half a mile much passed through my mind in those minutes. By the starlight I could see the Yankee pickets on the north bank, not over fifty yards from me, and back of them lay in the trenches a heavy line of battle, while on the south side fifty yards from. me lay our line of pickets, all ready for action, and the same distance in the rear the supporting line of battle. Between these lines of battle I stood, the only living creature, and the fire from one as dangerous as the other.

Time being up, I took from my pocket a box of Confederate matches (which were almost as hard to set on fire as the bridge) and drew one across the box, but it did not ignite, so I got down off my board to see if I could get back up the bank from that side, and in doing so concluded to risk the water and the enemy's bullets rather than be under fire from both sides. I decided to set the hay on fire and immediately fall in the water and quietly float down to the dam. exposing only my head, which in the darkness and under the excitement of firing from our side I might make an attempt at escape successful.

This resolution formed, I again started for my board, and in doing so struck a piece of plank that had been on fire, arid a live coal fell from the white ashes. This was not noticed by the enemy, and gave me a valuable point. Picking up another piece of board covered with ashes I saw fire was under the ashes, as on the other, so I took it and crawled up the board to the straw and hay. Lifting it up I placed the board under it and stuck a match through the ashes. Immediately a white smoke rose and bid fair to catch, so, instead of falling into the river, as at first intended, I crawled up the bank and went back on "all fours" a short distance, when I arose and made quick time to the line of battle, still in my stocking feet and shirt sleeves, yet not in the least cold.

I watched with fearful forebodings for the effect of my slow match, not reporting my return. In a few moments I saw the sharp tongue of a blaze flash up from under the bridge, and in a few minutes it was enveloped in a sheet of flame. By the light we could lie in our trenches and see the yankees on the other side. There were only a few shots fired from our side to keep them from attempting to put the fire out, which, however, could not have been done, as it spread with great rapidity. I then found Generals Early and Pegram and reported. General Early had my sword and pistol, General Pegram my coat, and Major Hale had one of my boots in each hand. Very little was said, but great relief was felt. My socks were wet and full of mud, so I pulled them off and put a handkerchief on each foot for socks, pulled on my boots, and joined General Pegram and went down a ditch to the edge of the river, fifty yards below the burning pontoons, where we could in concealment watch the progress of the fire, which soon did its work, and the burning mass floated down the river. What was expected to end in a terrible night fight and loss of life had been accomplished without our shedding a drop of blood. All my scare was over, and we at once began our retreat almost unmolested, as the enemy bad to bring up and lay a new bridge before they could cross. A few weeks later occurred the affair at Mine Run, in which the enemy suffered a severe repulse, and again re crossed to the north bank of the Rappahannock.

A WELL REMEMBERED CONFEDERATE OFFICER. In reply to the inquiry as to whether this gentleman participated in organizing troops at Camp Trousdale in 1861, he writes from St. Paul, Minn.: " Yours received. I remember well the splendid regiment of Col. Farquharson, the Forty first Tennessee, which I mustered into service at Camp Trousdale. I was a young Lieutenant at that time, and had not attained my majority. During the war I was a staff officer of Lieut. Gen. W. J. Hardee, and staid with him until Savannah was abandoned, then joined Gen. W. H. Jackson, and surrendered at Fort Gaines, Ala. After the war I planted in Mississippi and Louisiana until about 1880, when I moved to Fargo, North Dakota, and have been raising wheat in the Red River Valley since, near Wahpleton. I am at present located in this city, but expect to be on the road soon, with headquarters at Chicago. Glad to greet you again shake. " Yours truly, THOS. W. HUNT."

A COLUMBUS, MISSISSIPPI, DARKEY. There is living near Columbus, Miss., a colored man named Richard Franks, who is well known to many of us. He has been a consistent Democrat ever since he had his freedom. He is the father of thirty one children, and all living, has been married twice, and his second wife is the mother of twenty children. His thirtieth son is named for Grover Cleveland. He does not look like an old man yet. He farms, and also sells charcoal to many in this place. He will live and die in Dixie.

D. E. Gludgell, Henderson, Ky.: I am a native Kentuckian, and served four years in the Southern army, and I think if it had pleased God to have prolonged the war and my life until now I should be there yet. I got several wounds and three terms in prison, still I am doing very well, and getting no pension either.

M. T. Ledbetter, Piedmont, Ala., writes: In thinking of the war this incident comes to my mind: In April, 1862, our command was stationed at Fredericksburg, Va. I had worn my only suit of clothes pretty well to tatters, and in no way did my dress resemble the "dude" of the present day. I had been on guard duty, and was returning to my quarters along one of the streets of the city, when I heard a voice from the upper story of a building by which I was passing, calling to some one, I turned and observed that the voice was that of a lady, and that she was calling to me. She directed me to turn in at a door of the building, pointing to the door, and said she desired to speak to me. I entered the door indicated and found that it entered into a nice parlor, where I was met by the lady who had hailed me, and who presented me with a bundle wrapped neatly in a paper, requesting me not to open it until I reached my quarters. Very naturally I was a little curious to know what the bundle contained, but I obeyed her request, and when I got back to camp the first thing I did was to see what it was, when I found a pair of nice jeans pants. This kind lady, at the time she gave me the bundle, requested me to call late on the next evening and bring one of my friends. I obeyed this request, as a matter of course, and when my friend and I reached the place at the time named we found a nice supper awaiting us, and to say we enjoyed that meal but faintly expresses the fact. The pants given me by the good lady were worn through the "seven days' battles" before Richmond, and when I was shot down with my colors in my hand (Fifth Alabama Battalion), being wounded in the hip, the pants were pierced with the same ball, but were worn continually until I reached home after I was able to travel, although they were still stained with blood spots from that memorable charge at Gaines' Mill, June 27, 1862. I have often wondered if that lady who gave the ragged soldier the pants in the city of Fredericksburg still lives. If she does. and this should meet her eye, I would be glad to hear from her, either personally or through the columns of the VETERAN, and if I never hear from her I will ever remember with much gratitude her kindness to me as a Confederate soldier in a time of need.

During the time when rations, especially bacon, were scarce in the Army of Northern Virginia, Maj, B. Carter Adams, Commissary of Rodes' Division, who could always get supplies if they were in less than five hundred miles of headquarters, succeeded in getting twelve wagon loads of bacon for his division, and was passing by his regiment (Fifth Alabama), in bivouac. Some friend asked him of the chances for meat rations. He remarked that he had twelve wagon loads coming on behind, which was overheard by a genial, hungry reb. who said, "Major, will you please say those very good easy words over one more time, so that I may get a smell and become acclimated before it comes."

TYPICAL CONFEDERATE SOLDIER.

BY G. H. BASKETTE, NASHVILLE, TENN.

Nearly thirty three years have passed since the alarm of war called from their peaceful pursuits the citizens who were to make name and fame as Confederate soldiers. The stirring scenes and the dreadful carnage of a memorable conflict have been removed by the lapse of time into the hazy past, and a new generation, however ready it may be to honor those who fought the battles of the South, is likely to form its idea of their appearance from the conventional military type. The Confederate soldier was not an ordinary soldier, either in appearance or character. With your permission I will undertake to draw a portrait of him as he really appeared in the hard service of privation and danger.

A face browned by exposure and heavily bearded, or for some weeks unshaven, begrimed with dust and sweat, and marked here and there with the darker stains of powder a face whose stolid and even melancholy composure is easily broken into ripples of good humor or quickly flushed in the fervor and abandon of the charge, a frame tough and sinewy, and trained by hardship to surprising powers of endurance, a form, the shapeliness of which is hidden by its encumberments, suggesting in its careless and unaffected pose a languorous indisposition to exertion, yet a latent, lion like strength and a terrible energy of action when aroused. Around the upper part of the face is a fringe of unkempt hair, and above this an old wool hat, worn and weather beaten, the flaccid brim of which falls limp upon the shoulders behind, and is folded back in front against the elongated and crumpled crown. Over a soiled shirt, which is unbuttoned and buttonless  at the collar, is a ragged gray jacket that does not reach to the hips, with sleeves some inches too short. Below this trousers of a nondescript color, without form and almost void, are held in place by a leather belt, to which is attached the cartridge box that rests behind the right hip, and the bayonet scabbard which dangles on the left. Just above the ankles each trouser leg is tied closely to the limb a la Zouave and beneath reaches of dirty socks disappear in a pair of badly used and curiously contorted shoes. Between the jacket and the waistband of the trousers, or the supporting belt, there appears a puffy display of cotton shirt which works out further with every hitch made by Johnny in his effort to keep his pantaloons in place. Across his body from his left shoulder there is a roll of threadbare blanket, the ends tied together resting on or falling below the right hip. This blanket is Johnny's bed. Whenever he arises he takes up his bed and walks. Within this roll is a shirt, his only extra article of clothing. In action the blanket roll is thrown further back. and the cartridge box is drawn forward, frequently in front of the body. From the right shoulder, across the body, pass two straps, one cloth the other leather, making a cross with blanket roll on breast and back. These straps support respectively a greasy cloth haversack and a flannel covered canteen, captured from the yankees. Attached to the haversack strap is a tin cup, while in addition to some other odds and ends of camp trumpery, there hangs over his back a frying pan, an invaluable utensil with which the soldier would be loth to part. With his trusty gun in hand an Enfield rifle, also captured from the enemy and substituted for the old flint lock musket or the shot gun with which he was originally armed Johnny Reb, thus imperfectly sketched, stands in his shreds and patches a marvelous ensemble picturesque, grotesque, unique the model citizen soldier, the military hero of the nineteenth century. There is none of the tinsel or the trappings of the professional about him. From an esthetic military point of view he must appear a sorry looking soldier. But Johnny is not one of your dress parade soldiers. He doesn't care a copper whether anybody likes his looks or not. He is the most independent soldier that ever belonged to an organized army. He has respect for authority, and he cheerfully submits to discipline, because he sees the necessity of organization to effect the best results, but he maintains his individual autonomy, as it were, and never surrenders his sense of personal pride and responsibility. He is thoroughly tractable if properly officered, and is always ready to obey necessary orders, but he is quick to resent any official incivility, and is a high private who feels, and is, every inch as good as a General. He may appear ludicrous enough on a display occasion of the holiday pomp and splendor of war, but place him where duty calls, in the imminent deadly breach or the perilous charge, and none in all the armies of the earth can claim a higher rank or prouder record. He may be outre and ill fashioned in dress, but he has sublimated his poverty and rags. The worn and faded gray jacket, glorified by valor and stained with the life blood of its wearer, becomes, in its immortality of association, a more splendid vestment than mail of medieval knight or the rarest robe of royalty. That old, weather beaten slouched hat, seen as the ages will see it, with its halo of fire, through the smoke of battle, is a kinglier covering than a crown. Half clad, half armed, often half fed, without money and without price, the Confederate soldier fought against the resources of the world. When at last his flag was furled and his arms were grounded in defeat, the cause for which he had struggled was lost, but he had won the fadeless victory of soldiership.

AN OLD C. S. A. SWORD. 

Mrs. Annie Grace Burges writes from Fincastle, Tn..: During a recent sojourn amid the mountains of East Tennessee, I came across an old C. S. A. sword. I give a brief account of it, hoping that it may be restored to its rightful owner. It was found in an old blacksmith shop on the farm of Mr. Wellington Mars, in Campbell County. It was left there by a Confederate soldier during the war. He also left his canteen and horse brush, and on the brush is carved the initials, "J. R." This was a faint clue, which, followed up by diligent inquiry, led me to believe that the original owner was Capt. John Robinson, who raised and mustered in the first (?) company in Tennessee for the Confederate service. His men. were from Knox, Union and Campbell Counties, and were mustered at Blaine's Cross Roads. Captain Robinson had done good service in the Mexican war, and was known as a bold and fearless man. He was reported killed in the battle of Bull's Gap, but this report lacks confirmation. If, then, this communication should meet his eye, or that of any member of his command, the history of this old sword may be learned. I prize it very highly as a memento of that awful time, and would not part with it except to restore it to the owner.


HON. A. S. COLYAR'S ARTICLE CRITICIZED.

The letter of Hon. A. S. Colyar in the last VETERAN has provoked a controversy which surprises its editor. True, he was not aware of a correspondence which occurred nearly seventeen years ago in which Mr. Colyar related in a letter to Hon. R. M. T. Hunter, a member of the Hampton Roads Commission, very nearly the same statements that he did to the VETERAN. It is stated that he did not reply to strictures by Mr. Davis and his friend Hon. Ethel Barksdale, of Mississippi.

These refutations are upon the assumption that Mr. Colyar reflects upon Mr. Davis in his letter. Such was not understood by the VETERAN. There was no feature in the article that made it so desirable as the closing paragraph, which Mr. Colyar did not write, but which he cordially approved on seeing the proof.

Mr. Gardner asked him about Mr. Davis, raising the question of his faith in final success, and he replied that MR. DAVIS EVIDENTLY BELIEVED THAT PROVIDENCE WOULD EVENTUALLY OVERRULE FOR THE CONFEDERACY, AS WAS THE RESULT OF WASHINGTON'S STRUGGLE FOR AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE.

Through the favor of Col. John P. Hickman, of Nashville, access has been had to a complete file of these "Annals of the Army of Tennessee," and it is amazing to see how accurately Mr. Colyar repeats his letter to Mr. Hunter so many years ago. Mr. Davis' reply to the article in that publication is characteristic of our honored chief. His instructions, as reproduced by him to the Commission, were as follows:

In conformity with the letters of Mr. Lincoln, of which the foregoing is a copy, you are requested to proceed to Washington City for informal conference with him upon the issues involved in the existing war, and for the purpose of securing peace to the two countries. Your obedient servant, Jefferson Davis."
Mr. Davis states that: " Through all I have suffered and lost, it has been to me an unfailing consolation that I served a people and a cause worthy of any sacrifice which man could make, and I truly regret the recent revelations which have developed obstructions concealed from me and the people, when I was zealously laboring to fulfill the duties of the office with which they had honored me."

It is singular that Mr. Colyar did not learn of this statement by Mr. Davis, and so remember it as not to repeat even from Mr. Stephens that such a condition was required by Mr. Davis. It may be supposed by some, who have manifested special interest in this controversy, that Mr. Colyar was anxious to come before the public in this instance, but such is not the case. He was pressed to write these things more because of his high tribute to Jefferson Davis than for any other reason. It is even believed that he would not have written the article in time for the November issue but for a wager having been made jocularly by a lady. He did it while on a hurried trip hundreds of miles from Nashville. This statement should not be construed as indicating that Mr. Colyar was ever ashamed of his connection with the cause of the South. He sent two of his sons to the Washington Lee University after the war during Gen. Lee's Presidency of it.

So far as the controversy is concerned the VETERAN takes no part, except in considering its obligation to contributors, but while it will never be a medium for controversies it will emphasize now that from first to last in this discussion there was not manifested the slightest disposition to impugn the motives of any person mentioned. It was gratifying to hear him express to the Grand Army veteran the motives of Mr. Davis as being the highest that can actuate a patriot and a Christian, especially when it is known that they were, before the war, ardent Democrat and Whig. It is fitting to add that while he spoke for Southerners all, he did not say one word in praise of Mr. Lincoln.
Captain Morton's letter, to which these references are made, appeared in the Nashville American of Nov. 28. Here is what the Confederate President said in justification of his persistency in carrying the war to the last extremity:

I do not know how any one could have expected me, under the trust which I held from the people of the Confederate States, to propose to surrender, at discretion, the rights and liberties for which the best and bravest of the land were still gallantly struggling, and for which so many had nobly died. The " matter they had at heart" was to maintain the rights their fathers had left them. My heart sympathized with theirs, feeling that duty and honor alike forbade that I should seek peace on conditions which our army, depleted as it was, would have rejected with disdain.

If, while the army defiantly held its position in the field, the sovereign people and their representatives in. the Congress of the Confederate States, under the pressure of war and dread of possible consequences, had wished to abandon the claims in defense of which the war was waged, and that the battle torn flags should be furled and cased in humiliation, and the arms so long and so valiantly borne should be stacked for surrender, I should have bowed to their will but would never have executed it. In shame and mortification I would have resigned and left the office to be filled by some one fit for such service as has been indicated.

This controversy, though it appears as specifically local, caused much meditation upon the life and character of the South's chosen chief representative from first to last in our great struggle, and it brings him vividly to mind as the greatest hero among us. In that trying period, where so much was at stake, no other man was in like peril in refusing settlement. Any compromise would have been to his personal advantage,

whereas utter exhaustion of the Southern forces without terms threatened the worst results imaginable to him. But his own fate never seemed to have had a thought. The editor of the VETERAN was under Joseph E. Johnston, and was rival among his most ardent devotees, and had his share of prejudice against Mr. Davis in their controversies, but now, in the light of subsequent decades, with his last breath he would declare all praise to the undying patriotism and the fearless courage of the man who, in the last extremity, being sick and in prison, dared to strike the guards ordered to humiliate him with shackles. All this was against the strongest combined physical force on the earth, but in the last extremity he defied them and begged them to kill him. Aye, he knew the combined powers of the world could not then rescue him. While the South's chief glory is her sacrifice for principle, all of her people who suffered may look up to the character of Jefferson Davis and thank the God of battles and of destiny for such a heroic and unselfish leader.

The VETERAN feels called upon to explain an extraordinary event that occurred in Washington City recently. I was there" en route to Baltimore and New York, and feeling deep regret at inability to see the many good people who have been diligent since they first saw copies of the VETERAN, expressed the wish that a meeting might be held on my return. My friend favored it, and on the impulse wrote Colonel Seldon, proprietor of the Metropolitan Hotel, suggesting that quarters be assigned for such a gathering, and proposed to pay $25 for refreshments. Afterward this friend telegraphed me in New York for the VETERAN subscription list and stated that the Confederate Veteran Association had taken it in charge. The list was forwarded promptly, and when I returned to Washington I went to the Metropolitan Hotel, where I was greeted cordially by the proprietor and attended by him in person to quarters assigned to me on the parlor floor. He handed me this card:

WASHINGTON, D. C., Nov. 21, 1893. The members of the "Ladies' Aid Society," the members of the "Confederate Veteran Association," and the subscribers to the CONFEDERATE VETERAN, of Nashville, Tenn., edited by S. A. Cunningham, Esq., are cordially invited to attend a social gathering at the Metropolitan Hotel Wednesday evening, November 22d, at 7:30 o'clock, Colonel Seldon having generously tendered his parlors and a repast.

Respectfully,

ROBT. W. HUNTER, President.

THOS. W. HUNGERFORD. Secretary C. V. A.

There was a member of the Association who is unfriendly to the VETERAN, and he well knew that he was not wanted. He stated that he and I were not on good terms. I had erased his name boldly from the list before sending it to Washington, but as a member of the Confederate Veteran Association he was entitled to the invitation. He was there early and remained through the entertainment. His name is not given, but he will be designated as the agent of Mrs. Frank Leslie, who is republishing war pictures from her husband's old illustrated paper of thirty years ago. Shepublishes this agent's high sounding title, and of the "late C. S. A." He had gone there as a guest in this way to a gathering of about 150 as noble men and women as ever assembled in Washington, and he threatened to interfere with the purposes of the meeting by saying he would claim the privilege to read letters of commendation to him by Southerners in the publication of these old war cuts dressed over, with other pictures thrown in. (The pictures of battles put the Confederate reader behind the Federal lines.)

This unwelcome guest was the first one I saw on arrival, and I thought he would soon retire, but was mistaken. The situation was exasperating, but there was no help for it. At length the guests were invited to a. private dining room, where an elegant repast was served. At its conclusion a toast to Colonel and Mrs. Seldon was heartily applauded, but speeches ended there. Returning to the large parlors various impromptu speeches were made, but the name of the guest of the evening was not presented in any way. One of the speakers. General Heth, referred to the VETERAN in terms of honest praise. He seemed not to realize the situation, which was painful to those in charge of the entertainment.

SACRIFICE OF FEDERALS AT FREDERICKSBURG.

The eminent journalist, Murat Halstead, has written at length of his observations at the effort of Burnside to go "the short road" to Richmond. When he got to Fredericksburg " he found Lee in his way and there was delay." Burnside seemed not to get on any faster than McClelland. This from his letter :

The dear boys, in their weather beaten blue, were making the best of a gloomy affair, and could not conceal, or cared not to do so, their feeling that there were many chances alt would not be well with them. The worst of it was they all doubted the capacity of the commanding General, and they were strangely devoted to McClellan, singing " McClellan is our leader," the last song of the night, with hearty enthusiasm. * * *

The resounding cannonade was almost harmless. It did not take a soldier to tell that there was no business in it, but the expenditure of ammunition. There was so much iron flying that the sound of it rasping through the shivering air could be heard distinctly. The cannon bellowed and the shot hummed low and fiercely. The old town was invisible, but two church steeples pierced the fog. The laying of the pontoons under the fire of the Mississippi riflemen was a sacrifice of brave men. Officers who fell in that service and were carried to the rear were strewn thickly on the grass.

The Confederates paid very little attention to the bombardment. It meant nothing to them but that something was about to take place. Their riflemen in the cellars were well protected, and shot the men at work on the pontoons at their pleasure. It was no trick at all for a marksman to kill a soldier at every shot. Why all of the bridge builders were not shot down I could not understand.
It was not Lee's policy to hold the town. It was a trap. * * * I could not see any show for the Union Army from first to last, and the battle scenes to me were terrible. I saw the celebrated charge of the Irish Brigade as distinctly as I ever saw a play. Joe Hooker rode by with his brilliant face, and Sickles passed with a group of lancers. Burnside was walking in the yard at the Phillips House, his sabre clattering on the gravel. There was suddenly the opening of a battery or two of our field artillery on the Fredericksburg side of the river. The shots were exceedingly rapid, red flashes in the white gloom of a pearly powder cloud, and then the wild charge on the stone wall. It was not war, it was madness. The cloud that had been laced with streams of jagged flame, and writhing and vibrating as if charged with electricity, grew quiet. Then as the blue column moved forward there was the crackle of rifles like a thousand packs of Chinese crackers, and from that ghastly gulf of flame but few of the boys in blue reappeared.

I saw the cloud of battle over Franklin's flanking movement far down the river, where alone there was a rational hope of doing any thing. But the pillar of cloud did not advance, and the rumbling of many guns was not continued. There was a temporary success there, and 200 or 300 North Carolina troops were taken prisoners. It was pathetic to see their homemade outfits, their knapsacks of worn carpets carpets used as blankets and coverlets and patchwork quilts that had seen some service, the butternut jackets and ragged hats. I had seen North Carolinians before, for

my father's people were of them. I saw in the poor prisoners many things that reminded me of ''our folks" in the old times. Those North Carolina boys were lank, yellow, weather beaten, rough haired, with bony limbs, and wore ragged jackets. They had plenty of teeth and eyes, and many of them would be called "jays" and "greenhorns," but they were terrible soldiers, and had the hardihood of wild animals, tireless on the march as wolves, and glad to get an ear of corn for a ration, while a hunk of shoat was a luxury, and a chew of tobacco dissipation.

Whisky was a dream of the impossible. One tall fellow with a rubber blanket said, with a slow, sly smile, he ''got it at Manassas," which was the name the Confeds. had for Bull Run, but he meant the second Manassas, where some of Pope's trains were captured, and he "hoped to Godamity," he said, "this thing could be fixed up some way." He meant the war. The poor fellow would not have cared much how it was fixed. I asked him what part of his State he was from, and was startled when he named the county in which my father was born. He told me his name, but I forgot that. He is voting the straight ticket somewhere, I am sure, and I think I could give the name of the ticket, but I am not talking politics.
The loss of the Union forces was above 13,000, and this was sustained in apparently small spaces, and in a short time. It would not take long to slaughter 100,000 men as that massacre was conducted. When I think of it I wonder at Appomattox.

The Confederate Army was drawn out the day after the battle on the then sunny hills. The keen flash of their arms was seen, and their bands playing "Dixie" plainly heard. The prospect that the country would ever again be one seemed very dark and remote. If our wonderful armies could be so helplessly slaughtered, what was the use? And the world grew all dark and weary at the thought that the glory of the starry flag was departing and that the Union, that had been like the sun in heaven, was passing away in dishonor.

The slaughter was over, the army decimated and despondent, the soldiers feeling deeply, more acutely than words can tell, that they were dying in vain.

Mr. Halstead puts an awful gloom into the spirit of the soldiers. Here is an illustration from the field hospital:

A Massachusetts officer was on his right side, his left leg roughly amputated close to the body, his eyes wide open in a pale face, and as I looked at him, almost choking with grief he said, noting possibly that the stranger staring at him was compassionate, "Ah! I should not care for this if we had been shown fair play, if we had been put in when we had the least chance. I should not have cared for my leg so much if we'd had a show. It's gone for nothing." And tears came into his eyes, and he repeated, "If we'd only had a show," and "it's gone for nothing."

There never was assembled on earth, in any age or country, a more intelligent body of men than the Army of the Potomac, and the feeling they had "no show" was a pang inexpressible.

I hurried away to Washington, and in the freight car in which I rode to the Potomac there was a pile of boxes containing dead officers, heaped half way to the roof, and several of them were of those I had supped with in the woods the night before the battle. I could almost hear them sing then and can now.

I hastened to see Salmon P. Chase, and asked him whether he knew what had happened at Fredericksburg, and told him I was just from the army. He knew there had been a "severe check," and that our troops were on the south side of the Rappahannock. I told him there was really no battle. Our men had been shot down, that was all, the town was a trap, and I said, " The thing to pray for is that our army, in the hopeless muddle that it is, shall get safely back to the north side." "Is it so bad as that?" said Chase, agony in his face and voice, and he added in a moment, "Will you see the President?" I said, "No, you tell him."

DR. E. L. DRAKE'S TRIBUTE TO A BOY SOLDIER.

For the benefit of the family and comrades of Wm. Youree, a member of Company K., Second Tennessee Regiment Infantry, C. S. A., who was lost in a skirmish at Peachtree Creek, near Atlanta. July 18, 1864, I write of having discovered his remains, and am able to clear up the mystery that has hung over the fate of this heroic boy for twenty nine years. After several visits to the locality, and a persevering search, I learn that his remains are in Woods' private graveyard about three miles north of Atlanta. His bones had become exposed in making a county road over twenty years ago, and were removed at the expense of the county and re-interred at the place mentioned. I have marked the place and shown Mr. Thomas Woods the spot, so that his friends will have no difficulty in finding them. I have no doubt about the identification, as he was the only soldier lost out of the company, and we were the only troops engaged at that point. Besides, Mr. Bud Williams, a veteran, who removed him, says he found a black silk handkerchief in the grave, and I have an indistinct recollection that he possessed such an article. At any rate, his brother, Sergeant P. S. Youree, of the same company, if living, or some of his messmates, will have more particular knowledge than myself as to whether he had such a handkerchief.

I would like to pay a brief tribute to the memory of this heroic boy. He was a puny, sallow, undeveloped youth when he came to us at Corinth, seemingly too weak to handle a musket or endure a march, but he never missed a battle, I think, in which we were engaged. Although he was frequently sick he never shirked a duty nor asked a favor. He did his duty like the strongest. Indeed, his death was caused by his dogged persistence in remaining at the front when he was totally unfit for service. When we crossed the Chattahoochee, alter the hard and trying Dalton campaign, Billy was go broken down and unfit for service that I ordered him to the hospital. To my surprise he came back to the company in a day or two, and when I remonstrated with him he simply said he " would rather stay with the boys." We were then on the skirmish line at Peachtree Creek, and that day our flank was turned by two brigades of the enemy who emerged from a pine thicket in a few paces to the left of the line. It was a run for life. Being detained by my duties somewhat, I was the last to get started. In a short while I ca.me across the poor fellow in much distress because he was unable to run. I could only bid him do the best he could, and with a bitter pang I passed on, leaving him to his fate. In a few moments I was wounded, but managed to get back to the main line. We never learned his fate until the war was over and it was ascertained that he had not been a prisoner. Then there could be no doubt with us all but his poor old mother, in the absence of positive knowledge, refused to believe him dead, and to the day of her death clung to the hope that her darling boy would return to her.

Billy Youree was a model character. He had none of the vices of camp. His Bible was his constant companion, and his morals pure, indeed, he shamed us all by his example of patient, uncomplaining fortitude under the most trying circumstances, though he was but a weak, pitiful looking, undeveloped boy. When at his grave yesterday morning tears burst from my eyes and a fervent "thank God" from my lips that the lost had been found, though it was but the bones of the dear little fellow.

I do not know the address of any of his family, but this publication will meet the eyes of some of his friends, and if they desire to remove his remains to his native soil in Sumner County, Tenn., they can communicate with me here and I will attend to forwarding them home. If I should not be here Mr. Thomas Donaldson, who greatly aided the success of my search, or Mr. Thomas Woods, to whom I pointed out the grave, will freely render any assistance necessary.

In conclusion, I would plead that the comrades of Billy Youree and the citizens of his native county should bear home this precious handful of heroic dust, and erect over it a granite shaft that should tell to the youth of our land that it is not stature nor strength, but the spirit within that makes the man. Address E. L. Drake, 75 Marietta Street, Atlanta, Ga., or Winchester, Tenn. Atlanta, Ga., Nov. 13, 1893.

MRS. GOV. NORTHEN'S PLEA FOR HISTORY.

I hope it may never be said of the South that she has ceased to appreciate the sacrifices of her men or the patient endurance of her women in her hour of darkness and need.

I saw the widow yield to her country her eldest born, on whom she leaned to manage her estate, then another and another son in quick succession until her baby boy of sixteen was called.

I saw the wife bid good bye to the husband, and draw close to her breast the little ones who depended on him for bread, and looking aloft cry, " God pity us."

How fondly do I remember the contending emotions of fervent patriotism, love, and pride in my own heart as I saw my young husband start to the front arrayed in the suit of gray which my willing hands had woven, cut and made. He who was mine, now yielded to God and his country.

Shall the South ever forget these things? Never! Sweep away the dust of time! Let nothing dim their luster! As Rizpah, in sacred writ, stood guard over the bodies of the dead whom she might not bury, and drove away the vultures which would have fed on their bodies, so we will resist and drive away the unholy touch of every harpy who would drag down in the dust the sacred memories of the past. It ennobles us to write of noble deeds. It enkindles in our breasts the sacred flame of heroism, and the hovering spirits of our dead heroes shall inspire us to emulation. (This is the wife of the Governor of Georgia. ED.)


FORT SUMTER AND THE SEIGE OF CHARLESTON.

CORRECTED SKETCH BY R. BARNWELL RHETT.

I highly appreciate the narrative and the excellent likeness of my brother contained in the November VETERAN, but I ask you to allow me to correct a few inaccuracies, which are important.

It was two or three months after the defeat of the iron clad squadron, on April 7,1863, that Rear Admiral Dupont was relieved by Rear Admiral Dahlgren, and Major General Hunter, who commanded the land forces on the sea islands of South Carolina, was relieved by Brigadier General Gilmore. Gilmore proposed to silence Fort Sumter from Morris Island, that Dahlgren with his iron clad fleet might enter the harbor and capture Charleston.

At its northern point Morris Island is 1,400 yards south of the rear or gorge wall of Fort Sumter. It extends four miles southward, a narrow strip of sand between the ocean and the marshes of James Island.

It was the 10th of July that Gilmore made lodgment on the south end of Morris Island, upon which event Colonel Rhett remarked, "Gilmore will silence us, but I will fight the fort low down." It was then that the guns and mortars of Sumter opened on his forces and fired night and day for more than six weeks. Of the sixty pieces of ordnance then in the fort, fifteen gnns and mortars were thus employed, as circumstances required, especially in firing on the assaulting columns and reserves on the 11th and 18th of July, when Gilmore's forces met with bloody repulses before Battery Wagner, an outpost of the fort. The Federal killed and wounded on the night of the 18th numbered nearly 2,000. During the siege and engineering approach to Battery Wagner, which followed the disastrous attempts to take it by storm, the guns of Sumter were never idle. Gilmore characterized the fire throughout as " accurate and destructive." And, although firing over Battery Wagner, which was 2,700 yards off, no shot or shell ever fell among Confederates.

Gilmore established his breaching batteries not "four hundred,"but four thousand yards from the fort. They were eight in number, and their distances from Sumter ranged between 4,290 and 3,428 yards. The guns used were two 80 pounder Whitworths, nine 100 pounder Parrotts, and one 300 pounder Parrott, in all eighteen rifle guns, throwing a ton of metal in the aggregate at each discharge.
It was not "April 17th," but August 17th, when the bombardment began. Within seven days 5,009 shot and shell were hurled against Sumter, and but two guns remained serviceable in the fort. These were used for the last time from the crumbling east wall on the night of August 23d, in reply to an attack of six monitors and the frigate "Ironsides," which for five hours fired across upon the western magazine in reserve to blow up the fort. Between the 23d of August and the 2d of September the breaching batteries fired 1,819 more shot and shell against the fort, in all 6,828, which concluded the first bombardment. An interval of fifty days elapsed before the second. On the 27th of August General Beauregard, in publishing on order, complimented "Colonel Rhett, his officers, and the men of the First Regiment of South Carolina Regular Artillery," and stated that " In the annals of war no work ever before encountered as formidable a bombardment as that under which Fort Sumter has been successfully held."

There were earthworks at this time within the walls of Sumter. From the 20th of July, besides the garrison, relays of from 300 to 400 negroes had been working day and night under the engineer, Maj. John Johnson. The upper and lower casements of the seaport had been filled with bags of sand from the three acre parade. The seventeen rooms, 18 x 18 feet, used for officers' quarters, inside the gorge wall, were filled with bales of compressed cotton, soaked in salt water and packed in layers of sand. An exterior covering of sand bags defended the sally port. But there was no bombproof, and the protection afforded the garrison was insignificant compared with the bombproofs built afterward, previous to the second bombardment, which commenced on the 26th of October.

When all the guns in Sumter were disabled, except a 32 pounder, kept under cover to fire the morning and evening gun of the post, General Beauregard confidently expected Admiral Dahlgren to come in with his iron clad fleet and attempt the capture of Charleston. He had, therefore, made great exertions in erecting batteries and mounting guns on the northern shore of James Island, on Castle Pinckney, and on the sea port of Charleston. Colonel Rhett was placed in command of the interior harbor defenses. Sumter was included when the second bombardment began, and he visited the work nightly in a barge. But the expected naval attack on Charleston was never made.

Col. Alfred Rhett's command, the brigade of regulars, used as infantry, with Maj. Burnet Rhett's battalion of field artillery, formed the rear guard of Hardee's retreat after the evacuation of Charleston. At Averysboro, March 16th, they occupied the first line of defense to check Sherman's forces. The rest of Hardee's army occupied the second and stronger line, which it was intended to hold. Taylor's Creek protected Col. Alfred Rhett's right flank, and he was instructed that. a portion of Hampton's cavalry would cover his left, flank. After arranging his line of battle at daylight, amid the rain and fog, he rode in front to push forward his skirmish line. His personal staff officer and his adjutant were both sick and he was alone. When near the left flank, within his skirmish line, he descried a few cavalrymen covered with waterproofs, and he wore one himself. Supposing they belonged to the promised support, which he expected in that quarter, he halted them, inquired where General Hampton was, and ordered them back to tell him to hurry up, as the Federal troops were in his front in force. The men proved to be of Kilpatrick's command. and in the obscurity of the morning had inadvertently got in behind the Confederate skirmish line. Before he became aware of his mistake they had cocked weapons at his head. compelled his surrender, and led him out to Col. W. D. Hamilton, of the Ninetieth Ohio Cavalry, and General Klipatrick, who was with him on the Bentonville road.

Under Brigadier General Taliaferro. Rhett's brigade held the first line for five hours, repulsing first a portion of Kilpatrick's division of cavalry, then Ward's division of infantry, and finally, being attacked in front and flank by Ward's division and Jackson's division, fell back to the second line of defense, which General Hardee easily maintained. The Confederate loss was about 500, mostly in this brigade. The Federal loss is stated by Gen. J. E. Johnston at 3,000. For its conduct at Averysboro, and afterward at Bentonville, this brigade was officially complimented by Lieutenant General Hardee for its "iron firmness and measureless gallantry."

General Taliaferro was made a Major General at Charlotte, N. C., receiving the last commission issued by the Confederate government. Col. Alfred Rhett was taken to Fort Delaware, where he remained a prisoner until August, 1865.

A personal note by the author concludes as follows: The work you are doing is grateful to all Confederates and worthy of all commendation, for time is passing, and those who know the history of the Southern cause of 1860 65 are rapidly going into the land of silence.

THE SOUTHERN CROSS.

A. S. MORTON, ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA.

Freedom's blazing constellation,

Welcomed by the acclamation

Of a giant infant nation,

Rose the Southern Cross.

Aye, to keep it where they found it,

In the heavens. Ne'er to ground it

Swore ten thousands madly 'round it

'Round the Southern Cross.

Matchless chiefs (a world admiring)

Wondrous deeds of valor firing,

'Neath its blazing light inspiring,

Led the Southern Cross.

And our hopes grew higher, higher,

For the end seemed drawing nigher,

When above Manassas' fire

Waved the Southern Cross.

'Mid the battle's lurid glaring,

Where the torch of war was flaring,

Ever where were deeds of daring,

Gleamed the Southern Cross.

And the Northern heavens paling,

While the stoutest of them quailing

Watched in terror unavailing,

Shone the Southern Cross.

O'er the dead and with the dying,

In the face of foemen flying,

Down for aye with tyrants

crying,

Swept the Southern Cross.

Heroes bore it, proud to wave it,

Glad to give their blood to lave it,

Trusty swords were bared to save it

Save the Southern Cross.

Gallant lads, their faith defending,

Careless of the fate impending,

Sank to rest with angels tending

'Neath the Southern Cross.

But 'twas fruitless immolation,

Over vandal desecration,

Over death and desolation,

Drooped the Southern Cross.

Lost was all for which we'd striven.

Like a bolt from heaven driven,

Set the Southern Cross.

Where our dead are buried

WHERE OUR DEAD LIE BURIED.

Notes from Mrs. Alice Truehart Buck, Washington, D. C.: Died in the hospital at Manassas, Va., and buried with the "unknown" under the monument at that place Wallis Praine, Grimes County, Texas, William H. Thompson, Courtney, Grimes County, Texas, T. Morris, Dr. Garth Broughton.

De Jean, Alabama, died in Manassas, Va., grave not located.

B. F. Ward, died August, 1861. He was from Georgia, and is buried in the front yard at Mr. Frank Lewis's, on Manassas battle field.

WANTED Information of D. H. Mason, of Wright's Brigade, Georgia, supposed to have been killed at Manassas.

Of Talbot Patterson Moore, of Williamsport, Penn. He was living in Memphis, Tenn., when the war commenced, engaged in boating on the Mississippi River. He joined the Confederate Army, and was never heard of afterward by his family.

Daniel Sammons, South Carolina Cavalry probably Hampton's supposed to have died in one of the hospitals at Richmond, 1863 or 1864.

Of James Jerman Palmer, of Charleston, S. C., supposed to have been killed in the second battle of Manassas. He was private in the Spartan Rifles.

Of Leonard dark, who joined Capt. Cary's company in Rapides Parish, La., in 1862. When last heard from was a prisoner in Maryland in 1864.

Information concerning the life or death of comrades will be thankfully received and conveyed to their friends, or published in the CONFEDERATE VETERAN.

In Christ Church yard in Alexandria, Va., a small, neat monument marks the resting place of the following named Confederate soldiers who were prisoners of war, and died in hospitals there: Lieut. William Bamburg, 42d Mississippi, Sergt. W. T. White, 3d North Carolina, Corporal Daniel J. Frazier, G. S. Herron, 7th South Carolina, Sergt. Daniel A. Keever, William J. Fralie, H. L. E. Fleming, Henry G. Proctor, Erastus W. Hays, Wm. W. Taylor, Jacob W. Redmon, Chas. Firtich, and Thos. W. Montgomery, 25th South Carolina, Henry A. Storm, 14th South Carolina, David Rogers, 1st South Carolina, Abner M. Burghardt, 11th South Carolina, Gabriel Cox, 1st North Carolina, Wesley W. Skipper, 30th North Carolina, Anderton Brown, 3d North Carolina, Lemuel Cheeney, 44th North Carolina, Asbury Tarpley, 12th Mississippi, John Carter, 10th Florida, James E. Elder, 25th Tennessee, Robert J. Morris, 16th Mississippi, R. Pitman, 60th Georgia, Corporal James M. Stuart, 48th Virginia, Alex Lyles, Richmond Battery, Virginia, Gustavus W. Portlock, 61st Virginia, John Burnet Davis, Virginia Rangers, James Augustine, James Cox, Thos. T. Royal, a Lieutenant and one private, names unknown.

THE SHIPP HOTEL, CHATTANOOGA.

They sing of a true and gallant ship,

And a gallant crew as well,

But when to this city you take a trip,

Put up at the Shipp Hotel.

Entrance, East Ninth Street. J. F. SHIPP.

Rev. A. T. Goodloe, M. D. author of " Some Rebel Relics From the Seat of War," has removed from Chapel Hill, Tenn., to Station Camp, Sumner Co., Tenn., which latter place is now his post office.

374 Confederate Veteran December 1893.

LEE AT THE BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS.

W. T. Gass, Commander of Camp Ben McCulloch, No. 300, U. C. V., Mt. Vernon, Texas, October 26, 1893, writes: In a purely fraternal spirit I desire to reach the truth of an alleged "incident of the battle of the Wilderness," of which I have read three different versions (unless, indeed, there were three separate incidents in the same battle), of which our great chieftain, Gen. R. E. Lee, was the central figure and participant. I refer to a critical period in that battle when he attempted to lead in person a brigade, or division, to recover a portion of his entrenchments, or lost ground in his line, captured by the enemy, and the refusal of the officers and men to charge until he " went to the rear."

I find one version of it in Mrs. Ann E. Snyder's "Civil War from a Southern Standpoint." After a brief description of Gen. Grant's movement against his opponent, and his varying fortunes from May 4th to 12th, the historian tells how a successful assault was made, the fortifications taken, and Gen. Johnston's Division surrounded, and the most of them captured. She states, " It was a critical point. The fate of the Confederacy almost hung in the balance. The Federals seemed now to be on the point of a decisive victory that would throw open the gates of Richmond. Gen. Lee rode forward in front of the lines he had so often led to conquest and success. The scene was dramatic in its subdued intensity. He took position opposite, at the time, to the colors of the Forty ninth regiment of Pegrain's Brigade. Not a word did he say. He simply took off his hat 'as he sat on his charger.' An eye witness says of him, ' I never saw a man look so noble, or witnessed a spectacle so impressive.' At this interesting moment Gen. Gordon, spurring his foaming charger to the front, seized the reins of Gen. Lee's horse, and turning him around said, "General, these are Virginians. They have never tailed. They never will will. you, boys?" Amid loud cries of "No! no! Gen. Lee to the rear! Go back, go back! Gen, Lee to the rear!" Gen. Gordon gave the command, " Forward! charge!!"


Several years after the war I read a newspaper account of this same incident (or one just like it), with Gen. Lee as the principal figure, and the troops who sent him to the rear before charging and I retaking the Confederate works, as being an Alabama brigade. I have also seen another account of it, and for the past quarter century I have understood and believed that Hood's old Texas Brigade (then commanded by the lamented Gen. Gregg) was the real actors in this dramatic scene at the Wilderness, and that to these men belongs the honor of sending " Uncle Bob " to the rear McCardell's great painting, "Lee and the Texas Brigade at the Battle of the Wilderness," hung for a number of years in our old State Capitol at Austin, and was burned about fourteen years ago. I have also heard old veterans of Hood's Brigade tell of the incident with pardonable pride, and no later than last week I heard ex Gov. R. B. Hubbard, of Tyler, speaking to the Confederate veterans at the Dallas State Fair, give Hood's old Brigade the credit, and that the hero who turned Gen. Lee's horse to the rear was a private yet living in Central Texas.

Will you please publish this, or its substance, and find out, before all the old boys in gray "cross over the river," the truth about it, whether the incident should be properly credited to Virginia, Alabama, or Texas.

SEVERE DISCIPLINE.

While Joe E. Johnston's army was near Dalton, after the fall of Missionary Ridge, Gen. P. R. Cleburne's division was camped out on the Spring Place road. Pickets from the division were detailed every morning and mounted by Major Dickson, Cleburne's Inspector General. The Major was very exacting. He would order the men to stand at right dress at shoulder arms while he instructed the commissioned and non commissioned officers. The men would frequently change positions a little for comfort, and whenever he saw any of them do so he would order them out of line and put them on extra duty at headquarters. This severity became an annoyance to all of the division, until it was common for four or five hundred men to go out to see the ridiculous performance. A crisis came one morning when General Cleburne and his Adjutant went out to see the Majors performances. He had his men to right dress at shoulder arms and open ranks, and commenced his instructions to the officers as usual. As soon as this happened Adjutant General Buck left General Cleburne and went to the Major, said something to him, and returned to where General Cleburne was. The Major in the meantime was instructing as usual. General Cleburne then commanded in a loud, clear voice, 'Major Dickson, bring the men to order arms while you give those instructions not in the book." The old rebel yell was given with a hearty good will. For a long time after this when Major Dickson would come by the command some one would halloo out, "Who gave the instructions not in the book?" "Major Dickson!" would be the answer in chorus by nearly every one in hearing distance. The last time the writer ever heard it thrown into the Major's face General Cleburne was with him, and the General said, "Boys, I don't believe I would worry him any more, as he is sorry of it."
The above story is told by a veteran who was in Cleburne's old brigade. It is not used to criticise the Inspector General, who may have answered "the last tattoo" ere this, but it vividly illustrates soldier life by the boys in gray. They would suffer any privation when necessary, but resisted useless hardship or indignities. Much as the army loved Joe Johnston they so chafed at his putting men in stocks that there came near being a mutiny in camp at our winter quarters near Dalton.

H. M. Miller, of West Point, Va., demurs to errors. in Yeargin's report, elsewhere referred to, and adds: "All the boys who were young once swear by the VETERAN, and we all want it read in every home. Our Camp, John R. Cook, by unanimous vote, has accepted the VETERAN as our organ. The Adjutant now is making arrangements for every member to have a copy. We are trying individually and as a Camp to get our young people interested in the war, the causes that brought it on, and the deeds of our soldiers. To that end our Camp has tendered a medal to the young man and one to the young lady in our schools who, at the end of the session, is the best posted on that subject. Let all the Camps do the same, and it will stir up the young in behalf of our Southern history."

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