LIFE ON THE FARM

        The home life of a schoolboy in the country covers so much and has so much to do with his "terms" at school it occurs to me as very appropriate to devote my first chapter to an account of my life on the farm.

        Our "place," as we called it, was located one mile north of Springfield, Ga., the county seat of Effingham, and near the road leading from Springfield to Sisters' Ferry on the Savannah River.

        Father often spoke of it as a poor place for a farm. His chief reason for remaining there, as I have often heard him say, was because the county academy was located in Springfield and he wanted his children to

have the advantage of a good school. Then, too, he was fond of hunting and fishing and "The Runs," as this portion of Ebenezer Creek was called by everybody in those days, with its hummocks and swamps a half mile across, afforded fine sport in these lines. Deer and wild turkeys were quite plentiful and the large number of buck horns that adorned our veranda bore testimony to father's success as a hunter.

FARM ATTRACTIONS - HUNTING AND FISHING

        But to me the "place" was perfect. The swamps and fields teemed with small game of all kinds - partridges, doves, robins, larks, thrashers and bullfinches, squirrels, raccoons, opossoms, and rabbits; and the creek and Jack's Branch had every kind of fish from the trout or black bass that would not look at any bait but a silver fish, live and playful, to the branch pike that would snap up a grasshopper as soon as it touched the water. I had, too, a gun, a faithful dog, and a hunting companion in Zack, a negro about my age. There was an apple orchard with every variety from the toothsome little "Junes" to the "Father Abrahams" that hung on the

trees till October; a peach orchard with early "free-stones" and white and yellow "clings"; mulberry trees, with berries as long as my finger; three or four plum orchards; watermelons and muskmelons in season by the wagonload, and last, but best of all, the creek with the big swimming hole was not a half a mile away - and I had permission to go in whenever I pleased. With all these, how else could I regard our "place" but ideal? And it is still the dearest spot on earth to me. The old dwelling house and its predecessor - that in my day was the "loom house," - the negro cabins, the orchards, are gone; but the creek and swimming hole are there, and the old fishtrap site, and the eddies where I could always pull out a "war-mouth" perch any afternoon. The hummocks where I hunted squirrels, and the bridge up at the road, are all there. I visit them occasionally and find myself repeating with Woodworth, slightly changing his lines, -

                        "How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
                        While gladly, though sadly, I look on them all."

        Of course the ten months of school each year, under a strict teacher, with perplexing

problems and long memoriter lessons, cast a shadow across my happy life on the farm; but even these had their compensation in baseball or shinney at recess and during the long noon intermission. Then, too, Saturday never failed to arrive on time, bringing with it, besides a hunt with Zack and Watch (my dog), mother's weekly bake in the brick oven of light bread, pies, and syrup cakes, a peck of groundnuts and yellow yams that, remaining all night in the oven, shrunk away from their jackets to half their original size; and, of course, a shoulder of pork or a ham of venison or a turkey, for Sunday dinner. I can see them all with my mind's eye as I write.

LEARNING TO WORK, BUT NOT ON A FARM

        I was never required to do any work on the farm except of a very light character, such as dropping peas or gathering up the bundles of fodder that the hands tied up hastily when the thunder cloud was approaching, or sticking sweet potato vines, or picking up apples for the hogs; and these were more a frolic than work for me and the half dozen little negroes who constituted the "mergency gang."

         I was at school, you know, for ten months every year, and my dear, sympathetic mother thought I ought not to be required to work during my two months' vacation.

        But there are other ways than by manual labor of learning to work, and my teacher gave me the habit. In my next chapter I shall have much to say of his methods to this end.

POLITICS AND PUBLIC SPEAKING

        Another advantage I enjoyed by being so near the county seat was that of hearing distinguished speakers and attending political meetings, for nearly all the political meetings were held at the court house. Many a point of information I picked up in this way. It was from Ben Hill and Joe Brown in their race for the Governorship that I got my first knowledge about the railroad built and owned by the State, and known as the Western and Atlantic Railroad, reaching from Atlanta, Ga., to Chattanooga, Tenn.

        In Presidential elections I heard such men as William H. Styles, Henry R. Jackson, and Frank Bartow discuss the questions of the tariff for revenue and for protection of American manufactures, and that other far-reaching

question of the rights of slave-owners in the Territories. Not half of the people of Georgia or any other Southern State were slave-owners. In fact, Georgia, when it was first settled, had an anti-slave law, and some of the people were still opposed to slavery, though everybody admitted that the slaves were property according to the laws of the State and the Constitution of the United States. And being property, they were on a footing with all other property, and any law that discriminated against this property right was regarded by everybody as unjust. The Abolitionists of the North were getting anti-slavery laws passed wherever they could, and so it was natural that the election of Lincoln by the Abolition Party should be regarded in the South as a bad thing, not only by those who owned slaves, but by everybody else. Those who did not own slaves saw it was unjust to pass laws that would injure any man's property. Moreover, the question of doing away with slaves in the North had been in every instance settled by the States, each one in its own way; and why should not the people of the South be allowed to settle the matter in the same way, each State for itself?

HOW WE LEARNED "STATE-RIGHTS"

        The matter was discussed in this manner all over the South from the time the Abolition party was first organized, and all the people became so much interested in it that in those days even the schoolboys understood what was meant by the "Missouri Compromise," "The Fugitive Slave Law," and "The Dred Scott Decision." Since I have touched on this matter here, I will add an incident concerning it occurring during the war. In talking to prisoners that we captured they all claimed to be tired of the war, and would ask us why we did not quit fighting against the Union, - that is, the United States Government. They would instantly get the reply, "We'll quit fighting just as soon as you fellows go back home and attend to your own business and let us alone." The truth was, the Southern people felt that it was not the United States Government they were fighting, but the Abolitionists that had gotten control of it and were doing unlawful things. If the Abolition party had not been started there would have been no Secession and no war; and yet gradually slavery would have disappeared in the Southern States just as it had

disappeared from the Northern States - by the separate action of each State.

        In those days a political gathering meant not only public speaking by distinguished men, but one or more personal fights. But no guns or pistols were used. The fights were all of the "rough and tumble" or "fist and skull" sort, with broken teeth, bleeding noses, and blood-shot eyes; and, to be honest, I must confess I enjoyed these fights more than I did the speaking.

        Fighting is wrong, of course, and we ought to settle all our disputes in some other way than by fighting; but most of us are compelled to admit, if there must be a fight, we like to see a good one. Is not this the main reason why we like to read about Stonewall Jackson, General Lee, and the Confederate warship Alabama - because they did such splendid fighting?

CHAPTER II

SCHOOL DAYS

        I remember my first day at school. I was a well-grown eight-year-old boy when I "started" to school, but shy and timid.

        Of this first day I must give a few incidents. To me it was an eventful day. It ought to be such with every child, and parents and teachers should do their part toward making it a day to be remembered.

        Going to school has come to be, in a sense, too common a thing. This is perhaps one reason why education is not appreciated as it should be. Too often, perhaps, it is the case that going to school means only getting out of the way and off the hands of an overtaxed mother.

        But to my story: I was taken to the girls' room, for the school was divided into two departments, one for the boys under the principal, the other for the girls under his

assistant. In this instance the assistant was the wife of the principal. She gave me a seat at her left as she faced the school and about the third desk from the front.

        She occupied a platform about two feet high and closed in front and on one side. The side next to me was open and her position was reached by going up small steps.

        You see, I noticed things that day. I said it was an eventful day. It was, and I was in a state of mind to be impressed. I saw things for myself and I remembered them.

TEACHERS IN ANTE-BELLUM DAYS

        Presently I was called up to be taught my first lesson, A, B, C and D, E, F. Then I was told to go to my seat and say these over and over till I could repeat them from memory and name each one on sight.

        But I soon got tired and, looking out at the shade trees, I began to think of things at home. A tear probably gathered in my eye. Then the teacher came down and walked up and down the aisles. She stopped at my desk and, putting her hand on my head, said, "Well, you have been to school one day. I hope you like it. Would you like to go home now?" "Yes ma'am," I said, of course.

"Then you may go and come again to-morrow." My tears were dried, my homesickness was cured, and all the way home I kept thinking, "What a good teacher I have; yes, I like school and I'll go again to-morrow." Are you surprised that all through the years that I have lived I have held, as a "pleasant memory," that "first day at school," and like to talk about it to the children?

        "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." And in my picture is the sweet face of that kind-hearted lady, my first teacher, Mrs. H. S. Hawley.

        I sometimes say that our disappointing and disastrous Civil War gave to the youth of the South as a compensation for the calamity of failure the Southern woman as a teacher.

        As is well known to those of the generation now rapidly passing off the stage, it was a rare thing to find a Southern woman a teacher in any school before the Civil War. Nearly all the female teachers in the South were Northern ladies. Not so, however, with Mrs. Hawley; she was a Georgian by birth. Her husband, H. S. Hawley, was a Northern man, a New Englander, I think. He had been principal of the academy several years before I started to school, and for seven

years out of the nine that I was at the academy he was my teacher. He was said to be one of the best Latin and Greek scholars in the State, and his pupils always stood well at the State University and other colleges.

OLD METHODS OF GOVERNING AND TEACHING

         I have often entertained my children and others with his way of doing things, both in governing and teaching, and I shall devote a little space here to a description of some of his methods.

        First, his main reliance in discipline and for securing good lessons was the rod, which with him was a rule two inches wide and two feet long, or a whalebone, the bow of an old-fashioned umbrella. He had his own method, too, of administering the punishment. Generally the culprit was required to stretch himself across a chair face downward and hold fast to the lower round. Mr. Hawley stood in front of and near the chair with one foot elevated on a round, thus completely shutting off all attempts by the boy to rub the bruises or catch the rule or whalebone with his hand. The boys would squirm and kick and yell, but, pinioned as they were,

they were powerless to help themselves. How I feared getting on that chair! It probably was due to this that, during the seven years that I was under Mr. Hawley, it was never my lot "to come to the chair." I probably was no more disposed to prepare my lessons than other boys of the school, and so my good luck, as some of them termed it, was due solely to my fear of Mr. Hawley. I never felt like taking any chances with him on lessons or behavior.

         I will give a sample of what frequently occurred in the school in the matter of preparing home lessons.

A RECITATION IN LATIN

        There were four of us in a Latin class. Adams' Latin Grammar was the text-book. I remember hearing Mr. Hawley say of the Latin grammar: "It is the first book to take up in the study of Latin, and you will never know enough to lay it aside as long as you study the language." Our class had a long review lesson in the grammar. I was up late preparing it. Mother spoke to me from her room, saying, "Son, it is very late; you'd better go to bed." "Let him alone," said

father; "he and Mr. Hawley understand each other." And he was certainly correct as to my part of the understanding. When Mr. Hawley said get a lesson, I understood he meant just that - no less.

        When I reached the school grounds I found John M. and Tom G., two of my classmates, playing marbles under the "twin oaks" by the well. (These oaks, by the way, are still standing, December, 1911.) I expressed surprise at their playing marbles when we had such a hard lesson. "You are afraid of Hawley," said Tom; "we are not." The bell rang and soon it came our turn to come to the recitation bench. "Start the lesson, John," said Mr. Hawley, and John started, "Nominative penna, genitive penn, penn, - , dative, dative, dative - " "Come to the chair, sir," said Mr. Hawley, and he stepped to the corner of the room and got a whalebone from the bunch leaning there. John went down across the chair and began to recite rapidly and loud, but it was not " penna." He limped back to his seat and Tom was told to proceed with penna. Trembling, stammering, hesitating, he finally "stuck" about where John broke down, and he went to the chair: and as the whalebone

whisked in the air he yelled and wriggled, as he had often done before, and sniffling returned to the bench. "You may take it," said Mr. Hawley, looking at me. A rabbit with his ears pinned back and his head greased could not have glided through a thicket more smoothly than I did with penna, from nominative singular to ablative plural. Then I took puer and dominus and sermo and caput and manus and dies and bonus - a, um, and hic, haec, hoc, and the synopsis of amo, active and passive, in the first person, singular, through from present indicative active to latter supine. In this way I got all my lessons, and I sincerely believe that in doing so I acquired a habit of application and concentration of mind on the work in hand that was helpful throughout my school and college course, and no doubt greatly improved my memory.

        And let me add that it never occurred to me to ask Mr. Hawley why he required me to take up any particular study; and if I had complained to my father that Mr. Hawley was too severe, he would probably have said, "Just do what he requires and you will not have any trouble." If I had complained that Latin was too hard, he would have said,

"That's between you and Mr. Hawley; talk to him about it." How blest I was, both in father and teacher! Father had confidence in my teacher, and I had respect for him amounting to wholesome fear. I see now that this statement compasses the whole matter of my splendid progress during those seven years under Mr. Hawley. I was reading Caesar and about to take up algebra when he left the school at the close of my seventh year.

CONDITIONS OF PROGRESS AT SCHOOL

        Let me say here that confidence in a teacher on the part of parents is essential for the satisfactory progress of the child, and respect for the teacher - amounting to wholesome fear, if you please - on the part of the child is in my judgment a necessary condition of good school training.

        Again, a good teacher is the first essential of a good school. A well-adapted school building is desirable; comfortable seats and desks are important; text-books are helpful; but a good teacher standing under a tree with interested pupils sitting on a log constitute a better school than the best equipped building

with only a "hearer of lessons" in the teacher's chair.

        Mere text-book tasks drop out of mind even before school days are over, but the knowledge that comes from association with a teacher who is both well informed and able to impart information in a way that interests and attracts will remain through life.

        My teachers at the academy for the next two years after Mr. Hawley left were J. T Lynn and Rev. William Epping, each one year.

        From Mr. Epping I got the suggestion of teaching all history in school by short lectures, to be reproduced in writing by the pupil. In my judgment it is the only kind of history teaching in school that is worth anything from the standpoint of learning history.

CHAPTER III

COLLEGE DAYS

        In October, 1859, I entered the sophomore class of the Lutheran College in Newberry, South Carolina, and I was there in December, 1860, when the State seceded.

        I will give an incident of those stirring times with which the older students were connected. It will help, also, to show how excited the people were.

        John Brown had attempted to excite an insurrection among the negroes in Virginia and had seized the United States armory at Harper's Ferry, to furnish them with arms. For this he had been tried and hanged.

        The Presidential election had just been held, in which Lincoln the Abolition candidate had been elected.

        It was believed by many people that Abolition fanatics like John Brown were sneaking about, visiting the negroes at night, and organizing them for a general uprising. In

many places "vigilance" committees were organized to send out scouts and "patrols" at night to watch for these "emissaries."

CAPTURE OF SUPPOSED ABOLITION EMISSARIES

        One of these committees was formed in Newberry, and the college authorities were requested to allow the older students, who desired to join the committee, to do so. Night patrols were organized and all the roads leading into the town were picketed. One night a report was brought in that a party of Abolition "emissaries" had been located, and scouts were sent out to take observations. About two miles from town on one of the principal roads they came upon the camp of the "emissaries," consisting of a two-horse "Virginia tobacco wagon" and two white men who were then sitting before a bright log fire. The scouts concealed themselves to watch for results.

        Presently two negroes came down the road and turned in to the comfortable looking fire to warm their shins. While they were standing there one of the white men went to the wagon, turned down a keg and, filling a cup with what was supposed to be

whiskey, returned to the fire. The two white men each took a drink from the cup, then passed it to the negroes. This was thought by the scouts to be sufficient proof and they rushed forward and arrested the bewildered wagoners. They were marched into town and taken to the hotel corridor. Soon a crowd collected, and on all sides could be heard such expressions as "String 'em up!" "Hang the devils!" "Bring 'em out!" "Bring 'em out!" "Give us a chance at 'em!" They were kept under a strong guard till morning, and by eight o'clock a crowd of probably two hundred people had gathered in front of the hotel. It was thought best by the officers of the committee to take the prisoners over to the court house and give them at least the form of a trial, and thither the crowd surged.

        One of the men was led forward and was told to make a statement as to who he was and what was his mission. In a straightforward manner, but with evident emotion, he stated that they were tobacco and apple peddlers from North Carolina; that they had come down to sell tobacco and apples, as they were accustomed to do every fall; that they had gone into camp for the night out on the road a mile or two from town, and while

they were eating their supper two negroes came down the road and stopped to warm themselves; that while the negroes were there they drank some apple brandy and gave the negroes what was left in the cup. Then some young men ran up and said they were prisoners and must go with them. The other man was called on for a statement. He simply said, "Pardner's told it all."

        The chairman of the meeting asked if anyone in the audience wished to make a suggestion or offer any remarks. A young lawyer by the name of Nance rose and said that he desired to say a few words. At once all was attention. "These men," he said, "are in my judgment just what they claim to be, tobacco peddlers from our sister State of North Carolina." All over the house there were voices, "Down! down! no better yourself!" "Hang 'em up!" "Let us have 'em!" But Nance continued and made an appeal that for impassioned earnestness I have never heard equaled. A motion was made to appoint twelve men to consider the case and report. The twelve were named, and at once retired. In a few minutes they returned with their report, saying in substance that there was doubt in the case, and therefore they

recommended that the men be discharged but ordered to leave town at once. It is needless to say that the apple peddlers stood not upon the order of their going, but left at once. Under ordinary conditions no intelligent man who looked into the faces of these illiterate mountaineers would have thought for a moment of charging them with being "Yankee emissaries" engaged in organizing the negroes into insurrectionary bands, but "when the mob rules reason is dumb."

SOUTH CAROLINA SECEDES - MAJOR ANDERSON GETS READY TO FIGHT

        On the twentieth of December the South Carolina convention passed the Ordinance of Secession. I attended the ball given at the Kinard Hotel in honor of the event. The ladies all wore homespun dresses.

        Captain Walker, of Newberry, organized a company to go to Charleston, and a number of the students living in Newberry joined it. Excitement was at fever heat. Major Anderson, commander of the forts in Charleston harbor, had refused to abandon the forts, as he had been requested to do by the Governor of South Carolina, and had put all the supplies into Fort Sumter, the

strongest one of the forts and was preparing for a fight. Men collected in groups and discussed the situation, and at the college the literary debating societies took it up and had warm debates over the right and the provocation of a State to secede. Little studying could be done. Dr. Brown, president of the theological department, who was a Pennsylvanian, was said to be an Abolitionist because he employed white servants. He was advised to leave, and did so.

        Alabama, Florida, and Mississippi followed South Carolina and seceded, and on the 19th of January the Georgia convention passed the Secession Ordinance. The next day all the Georgia boys took honorable discharges and left for home. My classmates from Georgia at that time were Tom Rawls and Jake Elmore, both of Newnan. The former was killed in Garnett's campaign in West Virginia. The latter served honorably through the war and became a minister of the Lutheran Church. For many years, and until his death, he was judge of the Court of Ordinary of Macon County, Ga. I met him a number of times after the war and greatly enjoyed his company. Though generally dignified and rather reserved, he enjoyed a good

joke and was fond of telling some of our college tricks. He especially enjoyed laughing over one on our roommates, Rawls and Hutcheson. They were bedfellows, but had had a falling out and would not speak to each other. Neither Jake nor I would exchange with them, and so they continued to sleep together. One morning our genial landlord, Dr. M., on greeting us pleasantly as we took our seats at the breakfast table, remarked to Jake that he seemed not to be so well as usual. "No, sir," said Jake, without a smile, "Rawls and Hutcheson talked so much all night I couldn't sleep." Of course the good doctor appealed to them to explain. They blushed and were greatly embarrassed, but Rawls recovered and stated that Elmore sometimes talked in his sleep and was probably not yet fully awake. I was nearly bursting with suppressed laughter, which Jake's nudging did not aid me in holding down. Splendid fellow was Jake Elmore. He crossed over the river last year (1910), beloved in life by all who knew him, and his death was regarded as a calamity by his Church and by the people of Macon County whom he had served so long as a faithful and efficient public servant.

CHAPTER IV

PREPARING FOR WAR

        When I reached home from college I found the war spirit and excitement as high in Springfield and throughout the county as it was in Newberry. In every district in the county the militia was organized and having frequent meetings for drill. I was given a first lieutenant's place in the Springfield district company and got a copy of "Hardee's Tactics" and began to study the manual of arms and company movements.

        But my whole thought was on getting into active service by joining some fully equipped company like those in Savannah. Every day I went over to Springfield to get the news. For a while it looked as though there would be no war. Leading men in Virginia had proposed a convention of delegates from all the States to try to agree on some plan by which matters could be reconciled. In the meantime the seven seceding States had sent

delegates to Montgomery, Alabama, to form a new government. The new government was called "The Confederate States of America," and Jefferson Davis of Mississippi was elected President and Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia Vice-President. The delegates declared that in forming a new government it was not the purpose of the Southern people to make war on the United States, and they appointed a committee to go to Washington to arrange about Sumter and other forts and property in the seceded States that were claimed by the United States Government. And so it looked very much as if there would be no war. I was very sorry, for I thought the Abolitionists deserved to be punished for their meddling in our affairs, and I was sure a battle would teach them a good lesson and "bring them to their senses."

"STAR OF THE WEST"

The Star of the West, loaded with troops and supplies, and it had been driven back by the batteries in Charleston harbor.

        It had been said that Lincoln would never be permitted to take his seat, but he slipped into Washington disguised and was inaugurated President.

        Of course everybody wanted to know what he would say in his inaugural address; and when the news came that he had said he would not only hold Fort Sumter, but would retake all the other forts that had been taken possession of by the States that had seceded, the war fever rose higher.

        One day news came that Beauregard in command of the Southern forces at Charleston had learned that a fleet of ships was on the way to reinforce Fort Sumter, and he demanded of Major Anderson the surrender of the fort or a promise not to take part in a fight of our batteries with the ships. It was said Anderson had refused to do either, and Beauregard was firing on the fort. The next day news came that it had been taken.

        In a few days Lincoln called for seventy- five thousand troops from the different States to invade the South and compel the Southern States to return to the Union.

        Then the report came that President Davis was calling for volunteers to be ready to meet them. The Effingham Hussars were talking of offering their services, and a movement was started in Guyton - a small town on the railroad in the western part of the County - to organize a company of infantry. But I knew that in Savannah there was a large number of well-drilled military companies, and I felt sure some of these would be the first to go "to the front"; so I told Major Porter in command of the militia to get another lieutenant for my company, and not to depend on me, for I expected to join the first Savannah company that got orders to leave.

        Governor Brown had ordered a number of companies from North Georgia to assemble at Savannah for drill and to be organized into regiments. I went down to see them drill. I also visited Fort Pulaski and saw the big columbiads in position and ready for the Yankee ships that might attempt to come up the river.

        The "Georgia Hussars," "The Guards," "The Blues," "The Oglethorpes," "The Jasper Greens," and other Savannah companies were vying with one another for a

place in the Confederate army, but it was impossible to tell which stood the best chance. I returned home and impatiently waited.

        Next came the news that Virginia had refused to furnish her quota of troops called for by Lincoln, and had seceded.

JOINS BARTOW'S COMPANY

        In a few days word came from Savannah that Bartow's company, the Oglethorpe Light Infantry, had been ordered to report in Virginia. I was over in the village. I went home in a run and announced the news, and told mother I could not wait for dinner; in fact, I did not want any; that I was going to start at once down the Middleground road, afoot, for Savannah. She reminded me that it was twenty-six miles, and that I could not possibly walk that distance; that I should wait till my father came home and he would take me over to Guyton and I could go to Savannah on the train.

        I reluctantly yielded, and set about getting a few more of my things together that I would probably need in the army. When father came home he convinced me of the folly of going on foot to Savannah, and

agreed to take me to Guyton for the early through train from Macon next morning, which would land me in Savannah before eight o'clock. I was dreadfully afraid that every vacancy in the company would be taken before I could get there, but to my great gratification I found, when I reached the armory, that a resolution had been passed by the company the night before rejecting the married men, and that there were in consequence several vacancies. One of the rejected married men offered me his uniform. I was accepted by the company and ordered to call on the proper company officers for a gun and other equipments.

        Bartow arrived from Montgomery, and the next day we were escorted through the principal streets of the city by the entire military of Savannah, and somewhere on the march we were halted to receive the flag that had been made for us by the ladies of Savannah. It was on this occasion that Captain Bartow used those memorable words, "I go to illustrate Georgia." I felt that he included me, and it was the proudest day of my life.

        We passed through Charleston and on to Richmond. At every station there were

crowds of people, among them young ladies with dainty little rosettes that they pinned on the lapels of our coats. At first an effort was made by the officers to keep the men in the cars when we stopped at a station, but at some places the waits were so long and, from other causes, discipline relaxed and generally when we reached a station the boys rushed out and mingled with the people.

        On the third day, I think it was, we arrived at Richmond, and were drawn up in front of the Exchange Hotel. A guard was detailed to take care of the guns, and we "stacked arms" and went in for a "square meal." It was a royal meal, and we were in condition to do it justice. Then we went out to Howard's Grove and pitched tents.

        Every day a new company or two would arrive, and finally after about ten days the regiment was formed and officers appointed. Bartow, captain of the Oglethorpe Light Infantry, became colonel; Montgomery Gardner, a Mexican War veteran, lieutenant-colonel; Thomas Cooper, of the Atlanta Grays, major; and John Branch, of our company, adjutant.

        In the afternoons the ladies of Richmond by hundreds would visit the camp to see

"dress parade." the Oglethorpes, "the B. B. B.'s," - Bartow's Beardless Boys, - with their handsome blue-black uniforms, with buff trimmings, and the Zouave bayonet drill, "caught the crowd," and more than one Oglethorpe took with him when he left for the front a tiny photograph or a card with a name on it.

        I had the good fortune to form the acquaintance of the family of Mr. M. W. Yarrington, treasurer of the Richmond and Petersburg Railroad, of whom I shall have occasion to speak again in these war stories.

CHAPTER V

OFF FOR THE FRONT

        Soon we were ordered to Harper's Ferry, making our first march of eighteen miles between the towns of Strasburg and Winchester. Arriving at Harper's Ferry, we marched through the village and went up on Bolivar's Heights, a high ridge between the Potomac and the Shenandoah and overlooking the town from the west. While we were stationed here I went down one day to the Potomac and took a swim among the rocks.

        At this point the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad runs along the river bank several hundred feet below the overhanging mountains. The Shenandoah comes in along the Blue Ridge range from the south and joins the Potomac and, with united volume, they seemed literally to have torn their way through the mountain range. The scenery is grand beyond description. From Bolivar Heights we could see the splendid railroad

bridge of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad that spans the river here. We could see also the canal along the north bank of the Potomac.

        Not long, however, did we tarry at Harper's Ferry. It was reported that General Patterson, with an army from Pennsylvania, was about to cross the river above us and hem us in. So General Joe Johnston made the first of his famous retreats. We went up the river toward Martinsburg, turned south, and finally got back to Winchester and pitched tents in Hollingsworth Grove, east of the town. Once or twice while here we prepared two or three days' rations and marched toward the Potomac to offer battle, it was said to Patterson.

TAKING THE UNION MAN'S HONEY

        It was on one of these trips that a personal incident occurred that is worth relating.

        Our cooked rations had given out and we were beginning to feel, as all hungry soldiers do, that we had not had "a mouthful for three days." So when we started on our march back for camp John W., Henry P., and myself decided we would "fall out" and

hide in the shrubbery in the front yard of a residence until the army and Captain Scott's "rearguard" had passed; then we would see what could be done at the house for something to eat.

        There were some bee-hives among the grass and clover in the front yard. They stood on the end, and a small box, perhaps six inches square, was on each gum. In these was the new honey.

        When the army had passed we went to the rear of the large brick residence and rapped on the door. A man responded from an upstairs window and inquired what we wanted. We told him to come down, that we wanted to talk to him. He came. We explained our famishing condition and asked him to sell us a box of honey, one of those small square boxes on the hives. He flatly refused. We told him we were nearly starved; had not eaten anything but green apples for two days and he ought really to give us one of the boxes. He got angry and said we Secessionists had brought all this trouble on the country and a little starving might do us good.

        Then John said, "You know, my friend, some soldiers don't ask people to give or sell them things when they are hungry."

        "Yes," said he, "I've heard of such, and I'm ready for them." With that he reached inside and got a double-barreled shotgun, and declared that any man who touched his property would do so at the risk of his life.

        "Oh! you wouldn't kill a man," said I, "for a few pounds of honey?"

        "Yes, I would," he promptly replied.

        "But we are willing to buy the honey; sell us that or something else to eat."

        "No, I won't, and if any man attempts to take my property I will kill him."

        The stock of his gun was on the ground, the palm of his hand over the muzzle. Quick as a flash, as we say, John's rifle was at his breast and, looking him full in the face, John said, "And if you move I'll kill you."

        Henry dropped his gun to the same position and said, "We sure will."

        The man stood like a statue.

        "Well, boys," said I, "if you hold him that way I'll get the honey."

        Going to the hives, I put my hankderchief on the grass, looked back to see if they were still holding him, then lifted off the little box, tied the four corners of my handkerchief over it and left. As I passed out of the gate I looked back and saw the three coming

down the walk, the man between John and Henry, and without his gun. They brought him on down the road a few hundred yards and turned him loose. We saw no more of him.

        What inconsistent creatures we are! We were in Virginia for the purpose of protecting the people from the invaders who were coming to coerce us and take or destroy our property, and it had not been two months since we were applauding Jackson, the Alexandria hotel proprietor, for killing the colonel of a Federal regiment who with a squad of soldiers had pulled down the Confederate flag from his building and was carrying it off. And here we were entering this man's premises and carrying off his property! The only difference in the two cases was that Colonel Ellsworth was an officer in charge of a body of men for whom he was setting a bad example, while we were private soldiers doing a thing which we knew our officers disapproved and for which we would be severely dealt with if found out. We were both wrong. Jackson was right to defend his property, the Confederate flag, and so was this man in his determination to defend his honey

        But let me finish my story. We stopped at a little rippling stream and began on the honey. It was delicious and we thoroughly enjoyed it. Then we lay down at the edge of the stream and filled up with water. Then John stopped, looked serious and said, "Boys, I believe mine is coming ba-, ba-back," and began vomiting. Henry followed suit; and mine at once became restless, and up it came.

TO JOIN BEAUREGARD AT MANASSAS

        On Thursday, the 18th of July, about noon, we got orders to get ready to cook three days' rations. We were at our camp in Hollingsworth Grove, east of Winchester. "Another trot toward Martinsburg all for nothing," said some of the boys; but we cooked the biscuits and fried the "streak of lean and streak of fat" and about two o'clock we struck tents, loaded the wagons, and started. We passed through Winchester and took a road due east. "Where are we going?" was eagerly asked on all sides. No one knew. After marching two or three miles we halted for a rest. The boys crowded around Lieutenant-Colonel Gardner

who always seemed disposed to be sociable and often walked along with us on a march instead of riding. He told us that all he knew was that we were to "stop for the night on the Blue Ridge Mountains yonder," pointing to them. We set up a yell, for the mountains looked to be only three or four miles distant. But we marched till sunset and the sleepy old mountains seemed no nearer than when we started. We kept on. Near midnight some one passed the word back, "Get ready to wade the river." I paid little attention to it, for really all my ideas about a river were of the Savannah, down near Ebenezer, and the Potomac as I saw it at Harper's Ferry, and it seemed absurd to me to talk about wading the river. But, sure enough, in a few minutes we were at the water's edge and the boys waded right into it. I sat down to collect my thoughts and to be sure I was not dreaming. I think I had nodded several times as I was marching. But I could not convince myself it was all a dream, for soon all the boys of the regiment had disappeared in the rapidly flowing stream. And now the wagons began to enter. I thought of scrambling up into one, but they plunged

down the bank so hurriedly that there seemed small chance of my getting into one of them. So I took up seriously the matter of crossing on my own account.

        I decided it would be best to have dry clothes and shoes for the march after I crossed, so I pulled them off and tied them up in a bundle. This I hung on my gun and, with a heavy knapsack on my back and my bundle of clothes swung to my gun overhead, I entered the stream. Again my thoughts reverted to the Savannah River, and old Ebenezer Creek near my home. Their bottoms were of clay or sand, but this river, the Shenandoah, seemed to have its bottom covered with crushed rocks, with their sharp edges upward. From my earliest recollection I could never walk well at night, and feeling my way over this rocky bottom, and with the swift current twisting my legs (the water was from two to three feet deep), I made slow time, you may be sure. But finally I reached the eastern bank and, putting on my clothes and shoes, I went forward to overtake the boys, who, I thought, were surely asleep by this time on the mountain, for it was midnight. I soon found I was "going up hill, more than down,"

and knew I was climbing the mountain. A mile or two brought me among the boys, who were lying on each side of the road. Many a short "No, you fool," greeted me as I waked up first one and then another to inquire if this was Company B, Eighth Georgia. The regiment was marching "by the right flank," which put Company B near the front, and that meant I must pass through six hundred men before reaching "our boys." But I finally reached them and, dropping down on the rocky road, was soon asleep.

        Friday morning, the 19th, came all too soon, and we resumed the march down the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge.

VIRGINIA HOUSEWIVES GIVE ARMY BREAKFAST

        After a march of two hours, and covering a distance of perhaps five miles, we came to a place where a carriage gate on our left opened and a circular driveway led to a large brick residence with a long veranda. A negro in a white apron stood in the gateway and, with intense earnestness, kept saying, "Missus says come up to breakfast." "Come right up, Missus says, all of you

come right up." Company A, the Rome Light Guards, wore a handsome gray uniform with frock coats, and Company B, the Oglethorpes, followed in a handsome blue-black uniform, and not only frock coats but with epaulet straps on our shoulders, giving us much the appearance of officers. The boys hurrahed, saying: "The fool thinks we are officers." But the negro pressed his invitation from "Missus" so earnestly that the head of the column turned into the gateway and up the drive. When we approached the house a lady standing on the front veranda said, "Glad to see you, dear boys; just pass round the house to the dining- room." We passed; we came to the dining- room; we entered. It makes me hungry now as I write this, fifty years afterward, and think of what I saw on that dining-room table: biscuits by the bushel, sliced bread and ham in stacks two feet high, cakes and doughnuts of all sizes and shapes, and on each side of the exit door innumerable tubs and cans of hot coffee. There was too much going on for me to try to describe all I saw in that wonderful dining-room. But we were not allowed to tarry. A half dozen or more ladies were posted along the sides

of the long table and they literally passed us along, at the same time stuffing our haversacks as we proceeded, and saying, "You haven't time to stop to eat; you are going to Manassas to help Beauregard; the Yankees attacked him yesterday and were repulsed. You must get there to help him."

        This was our first knowledge that we were going to Manassas. It is needless to say that, coming under the circumstances I have feebly described and from the lips of these dear women, the news that we were soon to take a hand in driving back the invaders filled us with a joy and gladness little short of ecstasy. As we passed down the circular driveway to the other gate and out to the turnpike, I saw the stream of men still moving up toward that dining-room. The scene is as fresh and vivid in my mind today as when I saw it that Friday morning July 19, 1861.

RIDING IN OR ON A FREIGHT CAR - WHICH?

        That day we came to a station on the Manassas Gap Railroad, said to be about twenty-five miles from Manassas Junction, our destination according to the good ladies

who furnished our breakfast and filled our haversacks. About sunset we boarded a freight train. You remember it was July. I thought the top of the car would be the best place, so I climbed up. But soon the heated metal and boards, supplemented with cinders and smoke from the engine, caused me to want to be inside the car. So at the first station I swung down and entered. I thought of the "black hole of Calcutta" and began to think my time had come - not from Yankee bullets, but from choking suffocation. I felt that I was being cooked alive. I have disliked the looks of a freight car ever since that night. Do you blame me? I slept some, of course, but was waked up every few minutes, it seemed to me, by rude jolts as we backed or went into a side track to get out of the way of an approaching train.

        It was said the employees or officials were in sympathy with the Yankees and were simply "killing time" to delay our arrival at Manassas. However that may be, it is a fact we took all night to make that twenty five miles, and did not reach Manassas Junction until seven or eight o'clock Saturday morning.

FIRST SIGHT OF BEAUREGARD

        I saw Beauregard for the first time that morning. It was when Colonel Bartow rode up to him and said, "General, I am here with my boys, the Eighth Georgia Regiment, and I have promised them they shall be in the opening of the fight." "They shall be gratified," replied Beauregard, and, calling an officer, directed him to take Colonel Bartow out to some road to the extreme right. We marched out about three miles and halted in a piece of woods.

        Beauregard was of rather small stature, smooth-faced, and with swarthy complexion. He was quick-spoken and bright.

CHAPTER VI

THE BATTLE OF MANASSAS OR BULL RUN

        Now I am not going to tell minutely all that I saw and heard in every battle that I was in, but as the Battle of Manassas or Bull Run was my first, and as a battle is so different from what it is thought by most people to be, I will try to tell everything about this one that I think will interest the reader.

        Just after dark Colonel Bartow came down to the company - his Savannah boys, the Oglethorpe Light Infantry now known as Company B - and gave us a fatherly talk. I remember his saynig he had secured for us the honor of being in the opening of the battle, which would begin at daylight, and he felt sure we would acquit ourselves well. But his last words somewhat saddened me. He said, "But remember, boys, that battle and fighting mean death, and probably before sunrise some of us will be dead." As

I lay on my blanket, when all was hushed and still, and looked up at the starry vault and thought of the morrow and the last words of Bartow, I confess I was a bit homesick. But I slept soundly.

        The dawn came, but there was nothing that seemed like a battle. Sunrise came, but still no battle. Then Bartow came and moved about nervously, as if worried. Then he galloped away, but about eight o'clock, it must have been, he dashed up and exclaimed, "Get ready, men! the battle has been raging for two hours on our extreme left, and we must go there at once." Soon we were in line and off at a double quick for "our left," which I supposed meant over in the woods a half mile or so west of us. But on we went. Frequently Colonel Bartow would gallop up to troops or artillery in position as we passed along in their rear and inquire, "Is this our extreme left?" He was told it was not, and on we trotted. My! how tired I was and how the perspiration oozed from every pore! Presently from an officer of an artillery company that we were passing, Colonel Bartow received the answer that he was at the extreme left. We had come four or five miles, I am sure. The

head of our column turned to the right. We passed through a skirt of woods, then into a cornfield, the stalks being about waist high. We were halted and Lieutenant Colonel Gardner said, "Let the men load their guns and lie down." He said this very calmly, and as if no special significance attached to his words.

        A large apple tree was to our left, loaded with red apples, and many of the boys, as soon as they finished loading, ran to it and with rocks and lumps of dirt began to throw at the apples; some climbed up the tree. The company officers yelled to them to come back into ranks. Colonel Gardner remarked, "I see a battery taking position over yonder; they will need orders in a few minutes." A battery means an artillery company with four cannons. I did not know this at that time, and he spoke so calmly I had no thought he meant anything very serious.

        He had scarcely uttered the words when I heard a cannon, and a moment after I heard the shrieking ball, - a conical shell, I afterward learned it was, - and it seemed coming straight for me. The boys dropped from the apple tree like shot bears, and scrambled on hands and knees for their

places in the line. Under some circumstances the sight was a laughable one, but not so to me at that moment. I felt that I was in the presence of death. My first thought was, "This is unfair; somebody is to blame for getting us all killed. I didn't come out here to fight this way; I wish the earth would crack open and let me drop in." Now that cannon was only about a half mile away, and that ball was only two or three seconds reaching us, but all those thoughts passed through my mind in those brief moments. Then with a shrieking, unearthly sound - woo-oo-oo- p-o-w! It passed and exploded. To say I was frightened, is tame. The truth is, there is no word in Webster's Unabridged that describes my feelings. I had never been in the very presence of death before, and if my hair at that moment had turned as white as cotton it would not have surprised me. Colonel Gardner was standing a few feet away from where I was lying. "That went a hundred feet over us," he coolly said, "but the next will come closer. Here it comes! lie low!" He was looking at the cannons, of course, and saw the flash. I wriggled to get lower as he directed, but the ground was hard and I couldn't get into it. I think

I tried to spread and flatten myself. But it was all in vain. The noise of the ball left no room for doubt that in a moment I would be killed. "What a fool! I'm gone! I'm dead!" Just then the ball struck the ground a few feet ahead of us. It went into the earth and exploded, throwing a wagonload of earth and clods into the air. A lump as big as my fist fell on me, striking between my shoulders. I stretched out both hands and shut my eyes. I was dead; that is, I thought I was, which was all the same for the moment. The next ball passed over Company A and Company B and struck in Company C, and exploded, killing and wounding several men. Colonel Bartow galloped up at this moment to Colonel Gardner and exclaimed, "They have your range, Colonel, charge them!"

        "Attention, right face, double quick, march!" cried out Gardner. Every man was on his feet immediately. We ran forward a few steps, then halted. Colonel Gardner took his position before the regiment and said, "Men, I am no orator. I shall not attempt to make you a speech. Keep your ranks, do your duty, and show you are worthy of the State from which you came!

Right face, double quick, march!" These were Colonel Gardner's exact words. We were off in a run for the guns. We moved by the right flank, which means the right end of the regiment in front, and I will add here, for the information of the children, that a regiment consists of ten companies, each company having usually seventy or eighty men. Our regiment numbered about seven hundred that morning. I suppose it was the intention of our commander to get the regiment on the flank or side of the battery before charging it, killing or driving off the men and capturing the guns.

CHARGING THE BATTERY

        Of course while we were running forward the men at the cannons changed the direction of the guns and continued to fire at us. We made good headway, however, and were soon on the flank of the battery. It was stationed near the oft-mentioned Henry house. We entered a pine sapling thicket, and were halted directly north of the house. Then we faced to the left and started forward. A few steps brought us to the edge of the thicket and, looking up the hillside, we saw

the "Bluecoats" literally covering the earth. They were in the shubbery in the front yard, down through the horse lot, behind the stables and barns and haystacks. Seemingly a thousand rifles were flashing and the air was alive with whistling bullets. Men were dropping at my right and left. I kneeled at a sapling, fired, reloaded, and fired again; but it was impossible to see if my shots hit anyone. To my right and left I could hear the balls striking our boys, and I saw many of them fall forward, some groaning in agony, others dropping dead without a word. It seemed to me, every second, a bullet cut the bark of my sapling and I felt sure I would be struck, but I loaded and fired as rapidly as I could.

        Colonel Gardner was one of the first men wounded. I saw him drop down and seize his ankle, and I asked him if I could help him. "No," he replied, "shoot on." Presently there was some commotion to our right and, looking in that direction, I saw a line of Federal soldiers coming through the thick undergrowth not more than fifty steps distant. They fired a volley down our line. A ball from this volley struck my gun at the small of the stock, burning my little finger,

and passed across my breast. I saw it was "all up" with us, and as everyone about me seemed to be dead or wounded, I determined to take my chances of saving myself by getting away as fast as I could. I had no order to retreat, but I felt that was the thing to do; so I left my sapling and was soon out of the thicket.

        Just ahead of me I saw a body of men crowding around a flag, but moving along quite rapidly. I ran toward them, and soon recognized the flag as our own Eighth Georgia banner. No shipwrecked sailor, floating on driftwood and seeing a rescuing ship approaching, would have been more overjoyed than I was at the sight of that flag, just then. I could have shed tears. But by the time I overtook them I was exhausted and could scarcely put one foot before the other. I just could not keep up, so I dropped down into a gully to catch breath. The air seemed so full of bullets that I felt if I raised my hand it would be struck.

BEAUTIFUL ADVANCE OF N. Y. FIRE ZOUAVES

        While lying here I looked across the fields westward and saw a body of soldiers in

crimson uniform emerge from a piece of woods and start across the old field. What a beautiful sight they were, as with well preserved line they moved across the undulating field! I knew they were Yankees, and my heart sank as I saw them move along in such a beautiful line. Presently they reached the eastern edge of the old field and entered a thicket of small pines and undergrowth. I saw the white smoke rise above the bushes, and I heard the rattle of musketry. How it thrilled me! The soldiers in red burst back into the open, every fellow for himself. Their arms were moving wildly, guns and haversacks and canteens were being hurled right and left, and now from the woods rushed their pursuers, the Confederates, shooting as they ran. In a few minutes it was all over. The famous New York Fire Zouaves had met more than their match and had been driven pell-mell across the field over which they had advanced a few minutes before in such a beautiful line.

        But all this occurred in much less time than it has taken me to write it. I felt rested enough to get another "move" on me, and I soon ran upon our boys again, who had halted behind a hill. In a few minutes an

officer on a horse, who seemed to be carrying orders, rode up and conducted us to the rear. Where two roads crossed we passed Beauregard. He raised his hat and said, "I salute you, gallant Eighth." The regiment ever after bore this name, given to it by the commanding general in this its first baptism of fire. Hampton's regiment of South Carolinians was in line here and we took position behind them.

        Our regiment had been badly disorganized, and no one seemed to have charge of us. We were simply following our color-bearer. It proved that Colonel Bartow, who was acting brigade commander that morning in charge of the Seventh and Eighth Georgia regiments, had left us to bring up the Seventh. He was killed leading that regiment to our relief. Our Lieutenant Colonel Gardner was wounded, as I said, just after we entered the thicket and, being unable to retire, was captured. The next in command, Major Cooper, had in some way become separated from the regiment in the thicket and did not find us until two or three o'clock in the afternoon.

        While we were lying down in the rear of Hampton's regiment, our color-bearer,

Charles Daniel, kept our flag flying. Again and again it was struck by rifle balls, but it was of silk and they failed to pierce it, simply making a shrill whistle as they glanced on it. More than once some one of our boys called out, "Put down that flag." But Daniel replied, "They told me to hold it up when they gave it to me, and I'll do it." "Put down that flag; they'll know we are here." "That's what we want," said Daniel, and kept it flying.

        After a while Hampton's command was ordered forward, and we were led back a few hundred yards and ordered to remain there and reorganize.

        About four o'clock reports came that the Yankees had been driven back and were crossing Bull Run. Captain West of our company said he wanted to know who of our boys were killed, and he started off for the sapling thicket where we had fought. With his permission, I accompanied him.

GOING AMONG THE DEAD AFTER THE BATTLE

        I shall never forget the feeling that came over me as I walked among the dead that afternoon. "Surely, surely," I said, "there

will never be another battle." It seemed to me barbarous for men to try to settle any dispute or controversy by shooting one another, and, now that it had been realized what a battle meant, I felt sure there would never be another. But not so thought those both North and South who had not taken part in this battle. And so there was no trouble in getting volunteers by the thousand from both sections, to take the places of those who had been killed.

        The day after the battle I walked over the battle-field and stopped a few minutes at a hospital. The surgeons were still busy amputating legs and arms. I saw a squad of soldiers burying the dead, and there were other squads with wagons gathering up guns and cartridge boxes. I went among the saplings in the thicket where we had fought. I saw trees not more than eight inches in diameter that had been struck by at least twenty balls, and I wondered how any of us escaped. As I am not writing a history, but only telling what I saw, I will not attempt to give an account of the battle. In fact, I know of my own knowledge very little beyond what occurred right around me. No one can see a battle, for it covers miles

of country with intervening woods, and hills, and ravines, and the excitement is so great that many soldiers do not even see what is going on within a few steps of them.

        I have often thought that one on a ship going down at sea must have the most helpless feeling possible, but I think a battle not only makes one feel perfectly helpless, but also impresses on him as nothing else can what an insignificant creature in an army one man is. I believe, too, no soldier in the ranks ever wanted to go into a second battle. Of course he was willing to go, but only as a duty that pride and honor would not let him openly avoid.

PICTURE IMPRESSIONS AND A BATTLE

        In pictures of battles we often see lines of men running eagerly toward the enemy. The picture is correct in one respect only: the men do run forward toward a battery or breastworks or another line of men, who shoot them as they approach, but not a man in that charging line is really eager to go forward - not if he had ever one time been under fire in a battle.

        And yet I once saw a man shed tears because

he had missed being in a battle. The man was Joseph Gnann of our company. When we received orders, as I have stated, on the 18th of July, at Winchester, to strike tents and start we knew not where, Joe was down sick and could not go with us. But when the news reached him that a battle was actually going on at Manassas, he got up and set out to join the company. He reached us two or three days after the battle and, standing in a group of the boys who were telling incidents of the day, he listened as eagerly as a child to a fairy tale. As he drank in the stories, his eyes filled with tears that flowed over and coursed down his cheeks. "Excuse me, boys; I can't help it; the one battle that I came out here to be in had been fought and I have missed it;" I was at his side when we went into the next fight, at Dam Number One, on the Peninsula near Yorktown, and I am sure he was glad when the order to charge was given; and when the Vermonters took to their heels at our first volley, accompanied by the stirring "rebel yell," and we stopped from our pursuit of them and dropped into the ditch at the water's edge, I could hardly

keep him from hugging me. He was so overjoyed. He was in a number of other engagements, but after awhile he left us to take a lieutenant's place in a company of the Fifty-fourth Georgia, in the western army, and in the battle in Atlanta, July 22, 1864, he was killed - three years to a day, almost exactly, from the day he shed tears because he had missed the battle of Manassas.

CHAPTER VII

FROM BULL RUN OR FIRST MANASSAS TO SECOND MANASSAS

        About two months after the battle of Manassas our commanding general, Joseph E. Johnston, took a notion to move the army up toward Washington to see what was going on; perhaps to find out if the Yankees had really gone back across the Potomac in the flight from Bull Run. Two days after, not two months, would have been considered too long for this move by some men.

        Our regiment was sent to Mason and Munson's Hill, within sight of Alexandria and the dome of the Capitol in Washington. The Federal army seemed to be around Alexandria on this side of the river.

        One very dark night a party of us was taken out for outpost duty. We followed an old road, and two men were left at each post with instructions to make no noise and

both to stay awake. My companion was Henry Parnell. We stood in the road at the end of what seemed, in the pitchy darkness, to be an old barn or stable. Sometime in the night, when all was still and quiet as a graveyard, we heard a movement in the loft of the barn. We moved up closer to each other and I felt my hair rising on my head. The noise became louder. I whispered to Henry to know what he thought it meant. "M-a-n, I think," he whispered. We waited in breathless silence. Then there was more noise, as if there were several of them. "You go around that side of the house and I'll go on this side," I whispered. On my side was a door, on Henry's, a window. The door was closed. I stood a moment by it, listening; and I took hold of it softly and jerked it open. As I did so Henry yelled out, "O-o-e-ee!" and exclaimed, "It's a cat! He jumped right into my breast."

        Just before daylight the corporal of the guard came to relieve us. We reported, "Nothing unusual observed."

OLD SOLDIER TRICKS

        One night I was detailed, with John Webb, for an advanced picket post. Knowing that

soldiers on guard, "taking turns" with one another, never agree about the "off time" - that is, the time spent alternately in sleep by them - I urged that we both stay up all night. John objected, and I finally let it go his way, with probably a "mental reservation."

         I let John take the first "off," and woke him up when I thought he had slept two hours, to take his turn keeping watch. He protested, of course, that he had not slept two hours. Then I stretched out on the ground for my nap. It seemed to me that I had just gotten soundly to sleep when John nudged me, saying, "Your time." I got up, rubbed my eyes and took my position on the off side of the big chestnut tree, but I called up that "mental reservation" and as soon as John got to snoring vigorously I went round and woke him up. He said he had just gotten to sleep, but I pointed out a star and told him about its position when he "turned in" and remarked: "Stars don't lie." I lay down, but did not shut my eyes. Presently I yawned and turned over. John came and stooped over me in order to be sure I was sleeping soundly. Then he spoke, "Sorry to have to wake you, but - " "Confound you!" I said, "you don't have to wake

me, for I haven't closed my eyes since I lay down, and I haven't been here for a half hour." He admitted he might be mistaken. Then we agreed to spend the rest of the night without "taking turns," but it seemed to me the longest night I ever spent.

HOW MEN ARE EXECUTED IN THE ARMY

        On one occasion I saw two men executed, men who had been tried by a court-martial and sentenced to be shot. I am sure it will interest my young friends to know exactly how it is done, so I will describe the affair.

        It was in the fall or early part of the winter of 1861-1862, while our army was stationed at Centerville. We had in the army a battalion of men from Louisiana, known as the "Tiger Rifles." They wore Zouave uniforms, that is, baggy knee breeches, stockings, a jacket, and a turban. Each one carried also a large camp knife in a sheath suspended from his waist-belt. They were said to be rough men, requiring the strictest discipline by the officers. Two of them had overpowered an officer and was about to kill him, and for this they had been court-martialed and condemned to be shot.

        Announcement had been made in an order from General Johnston, commanding the army at that time, that the execution would take place on a certain day, and it seemed to be expected that it would be witnessed by the whole army. During all the forenoon of the designated day crowds of soldiers could be seen wending their way to the place where the execution was to take place. When I reached the place there were probably five thousand soldiers already on the ground. Three sides of a hollow square, the sides probably four hundred feet long, had been formed, and sentinels were marching up and down keeping the crowd back. On the open side of the square were two posts standing about two feet out of the ground and perhaps thirty feet apart. The crowd rapidly increased until probably fifteen thousand men were standing on the three sides of the hollow square.

        I had a position in the front row, but the crowd behind kept pushing forward, and the sentinel threatened repeatedly to put his bayonet into those of us in front if we did not stand back. Finally the prisoners arrived. They came in a wagon, which also contained their coffins. They were led to

the posts and made to kneel down with their backs to them. Their hands were tied behind them and then tied to the posts, and they were blindfolded. Two platoons of twelve soldiers each were marched out in front of them. They were of the same command with the men who were to be shot. It was said that only six of the guns in each platoon had balls in them, the others being loaded with blank cartridges, - that is, cartridges without balls. But no soldier knew which guns had the ball cartridges in them, as they had been loaded by others. The officer in charge of the two platoons stood somewhat to their front, where he could readily be seen by all of the men of the two platoons. Without saying a word, he raised his hands and the men brought their guns to the position of aim. He dropped his hand and they fired. The orders were given silently by these movements, so that the prisoners would not know the exact moment when they would be killed. It was a very sad sight and one that deeply impressed me.

TELLING A FALSEHOOD FOR HONOR'S SAKE

        On one of those occasions that frequently occurred in the hurried forming of a line

of battle, it happened that a farmhouse occupied by an old gentleman and his wife and daughter was exactly on the line. Supposing, like ourselves, that the battle would begin in a few minutes, they hurried away, leaving everything at the mercy of the soldiers. The battle did not take place, however, and that afternoon some of the boys tested the old man's honey. In doing so they angered the bees and some of those who had no part in taking the honey got stung. Among them was my close companion and messmate, Billy Dasher. His sting was just under the eye, and by next morning that member was completely closed up and his entire face much swollen.

        The owner of the house returned and at once made complaint to our captain, who happened to be right at hand, that the men had been taking his honey. "They shall be punished, sir," the captain promptly replied, and suiting his action to his word immediately instructed the orderly sergeant to call out the company for investigation. Standing before the company, he appealed to the men to act honorably in the matter and not put him to the trouble of interrogating each man. He asked all who had taken part in the affair

to step out and take their punishment like men. Promptly five or six stepped forward, among them my friend, Dasher. Announcing their punishment, ten days extra guard duty, he dismissed the company. Now Dasher was known by everybody in the company to be a model soldier in ever respect, and some of us were present when he was stung and we knew he didn't have anything to do with taking the honey. Of course we wanted to know what he meant by stepping forward as one of the guilty. He explained it thus: "You see, if with my face swollen by a bee sting I had not pleaded guilty, the captain and others would have probably have thought I was not acting honorably in failing to own up as the others did, so I just decided to take the punishment rather than create that kind of impression." Rare man he was, and a better soldier never followed Lee.

KILLED BUT NOT DEAD

        On one occasion when our regiment was trying to occupy an advanced position just beyond an open space through which the cannon balls and shells were flying, our commander ordered us to run across in groups.

Just as my group got fairly into the opening a shell exploded right at the head of the man in front of me. He was knocked down and hurled several feet. When I reached the woods on the other side, Lieutenant Bliss, commanding our company at that time, exclaimed in surprise, "Why, Zettler, I was sure that it was you that shell killed." "No," I replied, "it was Jim Carolan, and the shell took his head off right at his shoulders." While we were still speaking of the occurrence, Jim ran into the midst of us, his face so blackened by the powder that we scarcely recognized him. The concussion had knocked him down, but fortunately the fragments of the shell had all missed him.

TURNING RIDICULE INTO A COMPLIMENT

        Captain Dunlap Scott of our regiment had been assigned to the command of the rear guard, whose duty it was to scour the woods to the right and left of the marching column on a retreat to pick up stragglers and foragers. It became the custom of the boys, when a man was seen sneaking away in the woods to yell, "Scott! Scott!" and sometimes when the captain made his appearance

in the camp some wag would put his face to the ground and yell, "S-c-o-t-t!" Immediately the cry would be taken up by others, and others, until it traveled entirely through the brigade.

        On our trip from Northern Virginia, in the spring of 1862, to the Peninsula, we passed through Richmond. Captain Scott had been absent on sick leave. As we marched down Main Street he walked out of the Spotswood Hotel. Immediately some one yelled "S-c-o-t-t!" and the marching column took it up. The merchants ran to their doors to see what was the matter, and some even came out into the street to inquire who was General Scott that the men were cheering so loudly. Captain Scott, when the yelling began, coolly stepped upon the carriage stone in front of the hotel and stood with bared head, waving his hat and smiling as if returning thanks for a compliment the soldiers were paying him.

        It was the first afternoon, I think, of our arrival on the Peninsula, in March, 1862, to reinforce Magruder, who was holding McClellan in check. Through a dense smoke from burning woods we were moved into a hummock that was being vigorously shelled.

Limbs and tree tops were falling about us and shells bursting overhead. It became so "hot" that Colonel Lamar remarked, "They are shooting as if they know we are here; break ranks and take care of yourselves behind the trees." We did so very promptly. There was some desultory shooting just ahead of us, as if pickets were exchanging shots. Presently the cannonading ceased and all was quiet except the occasional crack of a rifle. Suddenly there was a shout, a sort of "Hoo-raw," such as the Yankees sometimes made when about to charge, followed immediately by a volley of musketry - all seemingly not more than a hundred yards in our front. We rushed into line and were ordered to lie down. Then we heard a noise as if ten thousand Texas steers were coming toward us. And now, bursting up us, came a mob of panicky soldiers - Confederates. They were without guns; some had spades in their hands, and others a cartridge box or a coat. They were looking in the tree tops and their eyeballs were as large as tea-cups. The toe of one fellow struck my head and he fell between me and the next man in line. As soon as he struck the ground he began wildly

to ask, "Is this Company E? Is this Company E?" "No, you fool!" my comrade said. The man was on his feet at once and, tearing away the bushes, continued his wild flight to the rear.

        "Attention, forward!" came from our colonel. We rushed forward and entered a somewhat open space and, there before us, not fifty yards distant was what seemed to be about two companies of Yankees standing in line with their back to us. We fired and rushed ahead with a yell, loading and shooting as we ran. It was now the Yankees' turn for a stampede, and, every man for himself, they skedaddled. We followed them into the pond, but the water seemed to stretch out beyond sight in front of us. The Yankees were in up to their waists and some of our boys did not stop until they got in as deep. Then we dropped back to a shallow ditch at the edge of the water and were ordered to "get down." We had scarcely gotten into the ditch when the cannons opened on the other side of the swamp, making it necessary for us to keep well down in the ditch, and for an hour they made it very uncomfortable for us. That portion of the ditch where I was had not less than fifteen

inches of water in it, but it was safe, so we held our places without murmuring until the firing ceased, then we crawled out and stretched off on the ground for a good night's rest.

        This affair, as I afterward gathered it from various sources, was this: A North Carolina regiment was holding the position along this swamp and creek with a dam across the stream, causing the overflow of the hummocks and swamp above. The regiment was engaged in throwing up a line of breastworks, their guns being stacked in the rear, with their accouterments and jackets hung on them. A few pickets were down at the edge of the water. The Yankees on the opposite side, learning the situation, resolved to wade through without firing and surprise and stampede the force at work on the entrenchment and cut the dam. One of the wounded Yankees told me it was four companies of a Vermont regiment, the Third, I think, that undertook the venture, and he said they were to be handsomely rewarded if they succeeded. He said also that they were told there were no other Confederate troops near, "for the woods in the rear had been shelled till a rat couldn't stay

in them." He pluckily declared, too, that if we hadn't been there they would have succeeded. And it did look that way, but that little if spoiled it.

        It is thought by many if Albert Sidney Johnston had not received a mortal wound at a critical moment in the Battle of Shiloh or Pittsburg Landing, General Grant would never have been heard of after that battle; and a still great number believe that if the accidental shooting of Stonewall Jackson by his own men at Chancellorsville had not occurred, Hooker's army would have suffered a more disastrous defeat than McDowell sustained at Manassas, and the battle of Gettysburg, if fought at all, would have been a Confederate victory and resulted in the establishment of the Confederate Government - all changed by that little word if.

THE COOK-SQUAD, A DESIRABLE DETAIL

        While McClellan was extending his lines around Richmond in the summer of 1862, and General Lee was planning to "Lift him out of his boots," as we know he did in the memorable Seven Days' Battles, our regiment was doing picket duty just beyond

Price's farm near the Nine Mile Road and only about five miles from the city. The picket lines were too near for fires and cooking, and with my messmate, Bill Dasher, I had the good luck to be detailed on the cook squad to prepare rations and bring them to the company each day. We usually got up each morning at daylight, started the log heap fire and put on the camp kettles to boil the chunks of beef, each piece about three-fourths of a pound in weight, and got the "spiders" ready to bake the thirty-five or forty hoe cakes (one for each man). By eight o'clock we were on our way to the picket line with our camp kettles, filled with meat and bread, swung on a pole between us. After distributing the rations we returned to the cook camp and spent the afternoon in reading such books or papers as we could get hold of or in playing cards or shooting marbles. Our readers will readily understand now why the cook squad appointment was considered a lucky detail. There was no standing guard; no picket duty for them.

        Our camp being, as I have said, only about five miles from Richmond, it was very natural for the boys to slip away and spend the evening

in the city. To prevent this, sentinel posts had been established at three or four places on all the roads leading into the city. But the boys soon learned to "run the blockade." I proposed to Dasher that we try it one evening. He assented and, getting the necessary points about the location of the sentinel posts from the boys who had been in, we set out about sunset. We made a successful "run," and in about two hours were at the front door of our friend, Mr. W. W. Yarrington, whom I mentioned in a previous chapter. The family were delighted to see us again and Mrs. Yarrington and her niece, Miss Josie Sharpe, insisted on giving us a square home-cooked supper. We yielded. Then they filled our haversacks with all sorts of good things and, learning that we had time to read, included several magazines. The hours flew quickly, and soon it was time for retiring. We told them that our duties required us to be back at the camp by sunrise and we must leave the city by dawn. Mr. Yarrington showed us how to use the night latch to get out and then conducted us to our room. When we looked at the snowy sheets and pillow slips, we decided they were too nice for us, so

we stretched off on the floor and were soon asleep. We woke at daylight and started for camp.

        We had learned that the sentinels along the road were instructed to stop no soldiers going out of the city to their commands, so we had no fear of being arrested and kept the road. When we had gone about tow miles we discovered that we were not in the right road, so we concluded to pass through a skirt of woods to the road farther east, which we were told was the "Nine Mile Road" - our road. As we emerged from the woods a soldier rose out of the grass and, leveling his "smoothbore" at us, called out, "Halt there!" He came up to us and said, "Running the blockade, eh?" "By no means," I replied, "we are on our way to camp." "What you doing off the road if you're going to camp?" We showed him our haversacks filled with city cooked things, bread and ham and cakes, and our magazines, but they failed to convince him. He was proud of his prisoners as a country urchin of his first bluejay and he marched us to the sergeant at the road. I think the sergeant was satisfied that we were, this time, on our way out, but he probably suspected

that we might have "run the blockade" going in. So he thought it best to send us to our colonel, and our captor was told to take us to him. One the way we repeated our story and explained how we came to be in that woods, and we assured him that our colonel would not do a thing to us and he would have his long walk for nothing. We asked him to sit down and rest while we went to the spring for a drink of water. But nothing would move him from his purpose. He was a "new issue," as we called the soldiers who enlisted the second year of the war, and had just come from the coast near Savannah. He was yet "fresh," and under the impression that a soldier must always obey orders and never "look the other way" when he had a comrade a prisoner.

        When we came in sight of the colonel's tent-fly I said, "See the man yonder in his shirt sleeves; he is our colonel." he had probably never seen an officer without his coat, and seemed not inclined to believe me, but we were soon in the colonel's presence. "Good-morning, Colonel!" we said, "here is a Richmond Dispatch, and see what our Richmond friends gave us on our way to camp," at the same time covering his camp

chest with the best in our haversacks. "Yes, yes, yes, boys! those Richmond ladies are the finest in the world. We must not let the Yankees take Richmond, boys, never, never!" "But, colonel, we are prisoners. This man arrested us on our way out and insisted on bringing us to our colonel." "Ah," said he, looking at our captor, "and were you instructed to bring them to their colonel? Well, I'm Colonel Lamar of the Eight Georgia Regiment, and these are my men, so you have done your duty. You may go." "On the cook squad, boys?" addressing us. "I see! then you may go too."

        We concluded to give our "new issue" a point or two, and went after him. "Say, here, you mosquito-fighter, we are two and you are one; you are our prisoner now, and we intend to initiate you. Yes, sir, when we get through with you you'll know a thing or two." He was thoroughly "scared up" and pleaded with us not to hurt him. But we assured him it was necessary for him to go "through the course." The tears gathered in his eyes, and he declared if we would just "post" him about the ways of old soldiers he would always hereafter try to follow them. Being satisfied that he was thoroughly

repentant, we agreed to let him off this time and allowed him to go. "Say, boys," he said, as he started, "are all the colonels out here like yourn?" We answered "Not quite," which was true, for Lamar was one of the handsomest officers in Lee's army, and as clever and brave as he was handsome, and he was the idol of his regiment.

THE DROP FROM A CHERRY TREE

        Early in the war scouts and pickets got to resorting to all sorts of projects for obtaining information about things in front. One of these was climbing into the top of a tree. The other fellows, however, soon found this out, and it got to be a dangerous venture, for with field-glasses they would locate you and send a rifle ball into the tree top, and sometimes they would even use a small rifled cannon to bring down the man in the tree.

        On one occasion when I was away from the company for a few days on a special detail, it changed position, and in reaching the company I passed under a large cherry tree that had quantities of cherries on it. I asked the boys why they did not get them.

"The Yankees object," they replied. "They seem to keep a watch on that tree and shoot into it if they see the leaves shake." "Nonsense," I said, "they can't see anyone among the leaves in that tree." "Try it if you want to test the matter," they said, and I proceeded to do so. When I got up about ten feet from the ground, I looked over the hill and, sure enough, there were two or three Yankees standing at a cannon seemingly less than three hundred yards distant. I stood on a limb and reached my hand up among the cherries, keeping my eyes fixed, however, on the cannon. There was a flash. I let my feet go from under me and struck the ground just as the ball whisked through the tree where I had been standing. I concluded, like the fox with the grapes, that those cherries were no good anyway and I did not want them.

        While the army was in front of Richmond, previous to the Seven Days' Battles, we received a payment from the Government of twenty dollars as a bounty or for service. Many of the men at once began to gamble with their money. One day a party of them was having an unusually interesting game. They were sitting on the ground just under

the brow of the hill; the cards and "chips" and "pot" were on a few pieces of boards on the ground in front of them. A number of us were standing over them anxious to see who would rake in the "pot." We forgot, for the moment, that in standing up at that particular place we could be seen by the Yankees at a small sand fort just across the hill. Suddenly there was the report of a cannon and at the same moment a ball tore through the apple tree just above our heads. We dropped down on the players and they in turn tumbled over one another, scattering in every direction the grains of corn that represented "chips" and constituted the "pot." An ill shot, we might say, that did somebody good.

LEE TO PUT ARMY IN REAR OF POPE

        It was the latter part of August, 1862. Stonewall Jackson had gone to the rear of Pope, seized his supplies at Manassas Junction and cut the telegraph wires between him and Washington city. (Read in the Records of the Federal and Confederate armies, published by the United States Congress, of the telegraphic messages passing between Stanton

and Pope at the time Jackson was cutting the wires. They will make you laugh.) Pope it seems was puzzled as to the whereabouts of Lee, and even thought for awhile that the trouble in his rear was only the work of a band of cavalry raiders. A few days after Jackson started on this flank movement, Lee took most of Longstreet's corps from Pope's front, at Rappahannock Station, and, going up the Rappahannock River ten or fifteen miles, crossed over and was proceeding down the turnpike west of Bull Run mountains, with a view doubtless of forming a junction with Jackson on Pope's flank or in his rear.

        It was Thursday, the 28th of August, and one of the hottest days I ever experienced, that we were making this rapid march. I learned afterward that we were hastening to get through Thoroughfare Gap and to the east side of this little range of mountains before Pope should discover the movement.

        Tige Anderson's brigade formed the head of the column that day, with the Eighth Georgia in the lead. The position of the Oglethorpes - Company B of the regiment - put us very near the front. During most of the morning General Lee and General

Longstreet rode side by side just ahead of us, and once in crossing a little stream they stopped to let their horses drink while we continued on up the hill. Presently they rode by and on to the front. General Lee passed close enough for me to have put my hand on "Traveller." I looked up into General Lee's face as he passed me. It was the closest view I ever had of him. His appearance was exactly as he looks in all the pictures of him, especially the one that is printed with the engraved copy of his farewell address to the army at Appomattox, a picture that hangs on thousands of walls in houses and halls and business offices throughout the South.

        About one o'clock we came to a halt in the broiling sun on the turnpike. It was said some of the artillery horses were giving out from the heat and it was necessary to halt the column to let them rest.

A VERY SMALL INCIDENT AFFECTS A BIG EVENT

        Two or three men in the front of the regiment concluded they would go ahead to try to get some buttermilk, or something to eat

from one of those dear Virginia housewives who seemed always able to find something for a hungry Confederate. Presently they came running back almost out of breath, and without their guns. They reported that in a village half a mile down the road some Yankee cavalry came on them, and after learning that they belonged to Longstreet's corps of Lee's army and that it was only a half mile away, broke their gunstocks against the trees, and turned them loose. Of course the information they obtained was far more important than caring for two or three prisoners, and they doubtless made rapid time getting the news to Pope.

        The men were sent to General Lee, who was only a few steps away, and soon the column was again under way. But now we marched slowly, for a while, with a strong skirmish line in front. After passing through the village we quickened our steps, and were soon in sight of the Gap, eight or ten miles away. Just before sunset we reached it, but in the open space beyond we saw a Yankee battery in position, and in a few moments the shells began bursting in our midst.

        We filed to the left along the foot of the

mountain and were halted. In a few minutes orders came that skirmishers must be sent up on the mountain to ascertain if it was occupied by the enemy. Companies A and B of the Eighth Georgia were ordered forward and deployed. There were just thirty of us in the two companies.

CLIMBING THE MOUNTAIN AS SKIRMISHERS

        I shall digress here to say that there are both advantages and disadvantages in being at the head of the column in a march. Those in front are the first to get to the clear stream or a well or the tubs and cans of water that in the early days of the war families at houses we passed would set out on the roadside for us. They were out of the dust, also, and were the first to throw off accouterments and coats at the camping-place. But sometimes, as in the present instance, the way must be cleared, which means a fight.

        When the order came for the two companies I have mentioned to deploy and advance, I was standing in front of a cluster of vines and briers well-nigh impenetrable; but soldiers must know no obstacles, so I plunged into the brush and briers. The mountain

side was covered with a thick undergrowth of low cedars and vines, and in some places huge masses of rock had broken loose and tumbled down, not only forming a very formidable barrier, but leaving a perpendicular wall of five or six feet that was very difficult to scale. But we clambered up, stopping every few steps to take breath and listen for movements or noises above us that would help us to know who were in our front. Presently I heard a jingling of canteens in the bushes just above me, and almost at the same moment the man with them exclaimed, "Who's down there?" Stephen Baldy, the comrade four or five steps to my left, threw up his gun with his finger on the trigger. I said, in a low tone, "Don't shoot; it may be one of our men." He replied, "No, I see him; it's a Yankee." Then the man spoke again, "Say, is that Company A?" "What regiment?" said Baldy, his finger still on the trigger. "Eleventh Massachusetts." Baldy fired. Now you want to ask, as others have done to whom I have told this story, "Did he kill the man?" I don't know, for right between me and where the man was, a line of men in blue rose, and as their bright guns dropped down toward me I looked into their

muzzles a moment - a very short moment - and went over backward. I heard a volley, but I was tumbling, rolling, jumping, falling, and had no time or inclination to look behind me. When I reached the bottom, General Tige Anderson, our brigade commander, was right there, and inquired what I knew. I told him I saw a regiment of Yankees. "Only a regiment?" said he. "That's all I had time to see," I replied. "You were frightened to death, and don't know what you saw," he said. I made no reply, but I knew I was not dead quite. Another man pulled himself through the briers and, on being questioned, gave the same information. Then Lieutenant Howard, who had charge of us, came up. "What's the force up there, lieutenant?" said Anderson. "Well, General, we came upon them very unexpectedly, and - " "Yes, and they stampeded you like they did the boys; so you know nothing. Get your men together, sir, and go back and stay there until you know something definite." Of course there was but one answer to such an order, and so Lieutenant Howard began to line up the men for another advance.

        Now the man with the canteens had probably been allowed by his commander to take

a number of them from the men and fill them at a spring or branch, and on his return he had lost his bearings and, hearing us, thought we were Company A, Eleventh Massachusetts, for which he was looking. It was a very common thing for an officer to let one man go to fill canteens while we were in line of battle.

        Well, of the thirty men who went up the mountain, twenty-nine soon reported, and we started again. The thirtieth one, Jim Carolan, of Company B, had been killed by that volley. Poor fellow He had once before been counted dead by me, - when the shell exploded at his head, - but this time a rifle ball had entered his heart, and there was no mistaking its effect. But in the skirmish line, like on the lonely picket post, "a man or two killed doesn't count in the news of the battle."

        Slowly, cautiously, we crept through and around the cedars and vines, each one wishing that somebody else would come first on those Yankees waiting for us. When near the place where we encountered them before, there was a sharp report of a rifle a few yards to my right. Immediately the line of men in blue rose up just above me. I dropped to the earth. Luckily a rock as large as a

flour barrel jutted out right in front of me. The regiment fired over my head. They dropped down, and another just above them rose and fired and dropped; a third, and a fourth, and a fifth did the same thing in quick succession. The last one was some distance up the mountain and their balls struck all around me. With that volley the firing ceased. I thought I knew "something definite," and heels over head I went down the hill. Several had made better time than I did and had rendered their reports. In answer to General Anderson's questions, I told what I saw and how I came to see what I reported. He calmly said, "You seem to know something," and turned to the next man. Then he sent a courier to General Longstreet, to inform him of the force on the mountain.

BLUFFING THE MASSACHUSETTS BOYS AT THOROUGHFARE GAP