Andrew W. McCormick Memoir, undated

Believing there are many events in the life of almost every person which may interest future generations, and be of service to the historian, I have concluded to commit to paper some facts in my own life and experience. By so doing they may be preserved, whether or not any other use may ever be made of them.

My birth occurred February 3, 1830, near Waynesburg, Penna., and my boyhood was spent on the farm of my father Robert M^cCormick. Like most boys raised on farms, at that period, I labored in the fields and forests during the spring, summer and fall of each year, from the age of nine or ten, and attended the public school during the winter months, during most of minority, and Waynesburg College at a later period.

For about three years I was employed in the office of the Examiner, at Washington, Pa. where I learned the art of a compositor, pressman, and job printer.

In the early spring of 1852, I located in Parkersburg, Va., having been married to Miss Alice J. Leckleter the preceding Christmas and became one of the editors and publishers of the Parkersburg News. In April I went by steamer to Cincinnati, to bring material, type and presses, for the office, leaving my junior partner Charles Rhoads, to canvas the town and vicinity for subscribers, /

advertisements, and job printing for the new enterprise. In a few days I had made the necessary purchases, and had the material shipped on board the Federal Arch. No railroads then existed by which I could go home, and as the great flood of 1852 was then at its highest the Ohio river was too high and full of drift for steamers to run. So I was compelled to remain in Cincinnati several days, a delay the more against my will as I had left a young wife in a town to the people of which she was a stranger. On the arrival of the boat, however I found her well and cheerful.

No Democratic paper was then published in Wood or adjoining counties of Virginia, and the people looked forward to the establishment of the News with much interest. The Whig organ the Parkersburg Gazette, had a good patronage, and the two young men who were starting the News felt hopeful of success. The first issue was May 5, and it met with a cordial greeting from its friends in several counties, especially in Wood, Jackson, Pleasants, Richie, Wirt and Gilmer. Its circulation and advertising patronage, inside of a year, approached closely that of the old paper of the other party, and its success was assured. But as the agitation of the slavery question was then getting to be an exciting issue, and the senior editor of the News came from a free state, he soon found it impossible to agree with many of the more ultra leading men of the party. /

Taking an independent course, on that as on all other questions, within the lines of his party, however, and carefully excluding all articles, as editorials, which he could not endorse, all things passed along with a fair degree of harmony till August 1853, when he sold his interest to Mr. Rhoads, and moved to Marietta, Ohio.

On the 7^th of October, 1852, our home was gladdened by the appearance of our first born, a lovely little daughter. To those not blessed with children, it is difficult to convey a correct knowledge of the measure of added joys this event produced. Our old physician, years after, congratulated her on the place of her birth, and said she should remember it as "the proudest thing in her life, that she was born in Virginia". How these old Virginians do cling to the early glories of the Old Dominion,—made illustrious by the fame of Washington, Madison Monroe and Jefferson, and other like patriots and Statesmen, before the days when the acts of Secession leaders caused her dismemberment by the creation of the new state of West Virginia.

Before closing the contract for the sale of my half interest in the News, I had arranged for the purchase of the Marietta Republican, and on the 13^th of August 1853, I became the editor and proprietor of the Democratic organ of Washington County Ohio. The paper had been published over three years, but had not attained the circulation it required for a /

flourishing journal, and so for some years I found it a rather inadequate support for myself and growing family. Still, as the people were cordial, and society congenial, and we were young and hopeful we continued cheerfully in the work. During the years 1854, 1855 and 1856 its circulation and influence increased to a great degree, and there was nothing the Democrats of the county could give that would not have been granted its editor.

In the Presidential campaign of 1856, much as I admired Senator Douglas, who was a candidate, I heartily espoused the cause of James Buchanan, the favorite son of my native state for the Presidency. President Pierce was a candidate for re-nomination, but the unpopular course he pursued in regard to the organization of the State Government of Kansas and Nebraska, in their proposed admission to the Union, made it impracticable to re-nominate him. I thought Judge Douglas was young and could wait and Buchanan, who had been Minister to England for three years, and so not mixed up in that unhappy controversy, would be more available. The delegates from the Marietta district in the National Convention had both held office under Pierce's administration, and were quite friendly to him, but knowing that it would not be safe to trust him to lead in the contest, supported Douglas. At first a majority of the Ohio delegates favored either Douglas or Pierce, and the large /

minority of original friends of Buchanan in the delegation were by them urged to join in giving the solid vote of Ohio to Douglas. This I opposed, and though not a delegate, my influence as a well informed editor, did something to prevent. The contest was stubborn and protracted, but one at a time, the adherents of other candidates came over to Buchanan, when a majority of the Ohio delegates favored him, we reminded those who persisted in voting for others that the influence of Ohio would be felt much more forcibly, according to their own logic, if all delegates would now unite, and vote for Buchanan, which they finally did.

The convention was held in Smith & Nixon's Hall, Cincinnati, and although it was not large enough to admit to its floor many more than the delegates—though the delegates did not then number much over half the number assembled in 1892—I was furnished with an editors ticket that admitted me to all parts of the hall. Being thus privileged, I did not hesitate to go from one delegation to another, and was credited with having aided no little in bringing support to the successful candidate.

After the nominee for President had been selected, several of my old friends from Pennsylvania, among them Hon. John L. Dawson, then a member of Congress from my native district. Col. Wm. Hopkins warmly expressed their acknowledgements for the aid I had given /

their candidate when Ohio seemed likely to oppose him. One of my Pennsylvania friends said to me before the balloting for Vice President began: "The Pennsylvania delegation have noticed with much pleasure the effective work you have done, and we give you much of the credit for the support our candidate got finally from Ohio. Now that our choice has been nominated for President you can say to your delegation that if they will indicate their choice for Vice President, we will take pleasure in giving him our support." I thanked them for this offer, and told the delegation,—for it was said in their presence, and with their sanction—that I would gladly take to my delegation this pleasing message, adding that I had not heard them express a choice, but that my choice would be Maj. John C. Breckenridge, the talented young congressman from Henry Clay's old Kentucky district. They at once said Major Breckenridge would suit them if he would Ohio. Going immediately to the Ohio delegation, I stated Pennsylvania's offer, which seemed to impress the Ohioans quite favorably. "But" said the leader, "Kentucky is pledged to Lynn Boyd for Vice President, and she cannot well have two candidates for this office." Knowing that instructions from a state convention in such matters are to be taken as an expression of the choice of a few friends concerned is without opposition of the more indifferent part of his party in his state, I went to the Kentucky delegation with an offer of the support of the two large /

delegations from Pennsylvania and Ohio for Maj. Breckenridge, if Kentucky would support him. I saw at once that it greatly pleased many of the Kentucky delegates, but the point was at once raised that the State Convention had instructed them to present the name of Lynn Boyd, and that they were bound, in good faith, to do so. A lively discussion ensued, and it was finally agreed that they could not see much prospect of nominating Boyd, but that from the message sent them by Pennsylvania and Ohio, they thought Breckenridge might win. They concluded to present Boyd, give him their first vote, and then when they found that these great states, and such others as might, gave their support to Breckenridge they would withdraw Boyd, and change their vote to Breckenridge before the first ballot closed. I reported this to the Pennsylvania and Ohio delegations, and they were confirmed in their intention of supporting Breckenridge.

When the roll was called, in alphabetical order, and Kentucky was reached that state cast her vote for Boyd. Some scattering votes were given Breckenridge, and when Ohio was reached, she cast her solid vote for him, which was followed by the full vote of Pennsylvania. It was now evident he was the coming man, as there was no concentration on any other though some votes were being cast for Morris Quitman and Brown by the delegates from the cotton states, these gentlemen being known as advocates of Southern Rights. Soon the Kentucky /

chairman, as had been agreed, asked to have Kentucky again called, and on that being done he announced "Kentucky desires to withdraw the name of Lynn Boyd, and to cast her entire vote for John C. Breckenridge". A shout went up from the galleries, in which many delegates joined, as this indicated clearly that Breckenridge would be nominated, which soon followed amid the wildest excitement.

I had never met Major Breckenridge at that time, but was introduced to him soon after, and invited to a banquet given him that night by his many friends and admirers, under the auspices of the Kentucky delegation.

My reason for giving this matter so fully will appear in the light of subsequent events,—especially an interview had with him when next I met him on the battlefield near Shiloh, while he was a Major General in the Confederate army and I an officer in the Union army, and a prisoner of war.

When the convention of 1856 adjourned, some of my old friends of much influence in the Pennsylvania delegation, came to me and tendered their grateful acknowledgements for what they were pleased to term my efficient efforts in securing the nomination of their friend for President, and added that when he was elected, as they were sure he would be, I could name the place I wished, within his gift, and they would lend their aid to secure it for me. I thanked them for the kind offer, but assured them I had nothing to ask, and had worked solely for what I deemed /

the interests of the party and country. They replied that after the election I might change my mind and be willing to accept an appointment, and repeated that if I did, to call on them, and all the aid they could give would be gladly afforded. After the election of Mr. Buchanan, and it having been given out that the Postmaster at Marietta would not be re-appointed, many of my friends, including the Democratic Central Committee of Washington county, urged me to allow them to ask my appointment in his place. At first I was reluctant to do so, but on being assured that it need not interfere with my duties as editor of the Republican, I consented to have the application forwarded, and the papers, strongly indorsed by the Committee and leading citizens, were taken to Washington by a friend.

I did not go to the inauguration, or have any communication with the President—or Post office Department for some time—leaving the matter solely in the hands of my friends. In a few weeks, however, I learned that ex-Senator Harte was an applicant for the Marietta Post office, and that he and a prominent friend of his had an interview with U.S. Senator George E. Pugh on the subject. That they had represented to him that Mr. Harte would buy out the press of the party organ, become its editor and Postmaster, and that after I had parted with the paper, I would accept a clerkship in Washington, assuring him that all this would be satisfactory to me. They also made three overtures to my friend in Washington, and induced him to withhold /

my application and endorsements until Mr. Harte could come from Washington to Marietta and so arrange matters with me—He so wrote me, and it was the first intimation I had that any such course was contemplated. It was not satisfactory to me. As Senator Pugh's endorsement was essential to procure the appointment, under the rules adopted by the President and Department, in a district not represented in the house by a Democrat, it became important to me that he be not misled into endorsing my rival's application.

I dispatched to my friend Hon. O. L. Clarke that I could not consent to such an arrangement, and at once started to Washington to see Senator Pugh and the appointing officer. I did not wish to ask the aid of my Pennsylvania friends, who were also personal friends of the President, and never mentioned the matter to any of them; though I have no doubt potent aid would have been freely given me. I preferred to get the place strictly through proper Ohio influences—the Committee and Senator. I told my friends I did not desire to sell the Republican. That I was only willing to accept an office such as I could hold while continuing to conduct the paper. That I could not afford to bury myself in a Washington clerkship the salary of which might be sufficient to support myself and wife and three little children, but from which I could not hope to save anything, so as to get a fresh start in the world when my term would expire. This was before the days of civil /

service, and no clerk could hope to hold his position for more than four years, unless his party was successful at the next Presidential election.

As there was no railroad reaching Marietta in the spring of 1857, my route east was by steamer to Wheeling, then by railroad to Washington. On my arrival at the Capitol I found the Senate had adjourned and Senator Pugh had gone to Cincinnati. I conferred with my friends at the seat of government, and was assured, if I got Senator Pugh's endorsement my appointment would be made. Losing no time I came home—as my wife was in feeble health, following the birth of my second son—and on finding her improved, started at once for Cincinnati, to see the Senator. I learned on arriving home that my opponent had sent a friend of much influence, that morning, to Cincinnati on the same errand. The railroad from Cincinnati was only finished as far east as Athens, and the usual route to the Queen City was by steamboat to Janesville, and thence by railroad, via Columbus. This would take him till the evening of the following day to reach the Senator's residence. I took a shorter and quicker route. Starting that afternoon on horseback, I rode to Amesville, thirty-two miles, then stopped for the night. Starting next morning at daylight I rode to Athens just in time to leave my horse at a hotel, and board the train as it pulled out for Cincinnati, arriving there at dark. /

Calling at the Senator's residence the same night I found my rival's friend had not yet arrived. I was received most cordially, and after my statement that the talked of arrangement to give Mr. Harte the Post office and a Clerkship to me was not with my knowledge or consent, he assured me he would stand by me. He had recommended the re-appointment of Postmaster Gray, of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, and the President hesitated to make change rather than re-appointment. So the Senator told me he had about concluded to make no more recommendations, till the President showed proper respect to his wishes in the matter of appointments, by re-commissioning Mr. Gray. However, he said he would make an exception in my case, and would at once send a letter to Washington and secure me the appointment, which he did.

Although at first I did not desire any office, believing that as a rule a man capable of properly filling an office can do better for himself in some legitimate private business, or practicing a profession, I considered it a personal triumph to secure the office under the circumstances. It was not lucrative, the compensation being but 1100 to 1200 a year at that time, being commission on stamps cancelled—out of which office rent and clerk hire had to be paid. In 1893 the same office pays 2400 per year, and the government pays office rent and clerk hire. As the Marietta and Cincinnati railroad was soon completed from the west, and the Baltimore and Ohio, via Parkersburg, from the east, an /

immense amount of extra work, handling through mails, was thrown upon the Marietta Post office, for which the Postmaster got no compensation, and was allowed nothing for extra clerks he was compelled to employ. It will be remembered route agents brought in the mail they gathered at all way stations, and left it for the Postmaster to assort and send out. This was before the days of postal clerks or travelling post offices. The duties became so onerous I sold the Republican to A J Campbell and A. Wagstaff, to save me from overwork, who conducted it but a short time. At the end of the four years term, the war had broken out. As I had supported S. A. Douglas for President, on the stump and through the Republican, of which I was again editor, I had no claims on President Lincoln for re-appointment. I desired to enter the military service, and determined to do so as soon as relieved, and I could arrange it. Here an obstacle interposed that kept me out of the army a few weeks. The Democratic Convention, by an almost unanimous vote, nominated me for County Auditor, the most important and lucrative office in the gift of the people. The county had been close, and they insisted that I make the race, and say nothing of my intention to enter the army, holding that I would probably be elected unless I prejudiced my case by admitting probability of defeat by mentioning my proposed /

service in the army. As they had been my friends in the past, and I owed much to their friendship, I took their advice though I felt convinced that the course many Democratic leaders and journals were pursuing would defeat the party and that I would be carried down with the candidates. It so proved. I had been a strong advocate of a vigorous prosecution of the war from the day the army fired on Fort Sumter and thus begun the rebellion. Having always been an ardent friend and supporter of the Union, no matter from what quarter assailed, I at once entered upon the work of recruiting, even while conducting the paper and political campaign in the spring and summer of 1861, the recruits I could control entering the 12^th, 18^th 36^th and 39^th Ohio Regiments. They were gallant men, and I would have liked to lead them in battle.

As soon as the election was over, I at once tendered my services to Col. Jesse Hildebrand, who was then raising the 77^th Ohio Regiment. He told me he was sorry I had not told him of my intention sooner, as he was then unable to give me a recruiting commission, as all such appointments for his regiment had been given out. He said if he could control it I should have the position of Major, the only one not yet filled. Meanwhile it would be well to arrange with one of those who held a recruiting commission to raise a company with him, of which by the choice of the men I could be Captain, /

and he First Lieutenant, if he failed to secure me the Major's commission. Such an arrangement was at once offered me by Lieut. S.S. M^cNaughton, and I signed his roll immediately as a private being the first man he had enlisted. This was Oct 21 and the Military Committee of Washington County asked me to fill appointments for addressing war meetings in the schoolhouses of the eastern townships of the county. This I did for the next three weeks, the Lieutenant attending and enrolling the recruits. Other officers had already secured some men in the vicinity, and many whom we persuaded to enlist wished to join companies their friends were in. When asked if that would be satisfactory to me, I could but consent; and thus lost men from my own company to theirs to a degree sufficient to make mine G instead of A or B and giving me a junior Captaincy. The Governor, without consulting the Colonel, appointed Benj. D. Fearing Major of the 77^th Regiment.

On Jan 2, 1862 the Regiment was complete and mustered into service. It had been constantly drilling from early in October, in Camp Tupper, Marietta, but had not been armed. In January and to Feb. 17 it drilled at Camp Dennison, then proceeded to Paducah Ky. and Shiloh Tenn.

At Paducah we were brigaded with the 53 and 57^th Ohio Regiments in Gen. Sherman's Division. We continued to practice company and battalion drill, but could do nothing in the manual of arms, as we had no guns,—our arms not being supplied to us till after we were on board the fleet of steamers, going up the Tennessee river. /

On reaching Pittsburg Landing, about three miles from Shiloh church, we disembarked, and marched out to what became the famous battlefield, and went into camp. About a month was spent in very arduous drilling and reconnoitering. Gen. Sherman took us to Yellow Creek on steamers March 14 and landed in the rain, intending to march to Iuka, Miss, to cut the railroad over which the enemy at Corinth was receiving troops and supplies. But the stream was so swollen by the heavy rain that the road was impassible and we returned to Shiloh, much fatigued and thoroughly chilled. Again he took us on his fleet to Eastport, Miss, where we drove the confederates out of the town, and pursued them for some distance; then returned as we came.

A reconnaissance was made by the Brigade to near Monterey, where we came very near but did not encounter the enemy. We had evidence that a large force was on our front, against which Gen. Grant expected to march, but we were not then aware that we were likely to be attacked at Shiloh. Our cavalry several times had skirmishes with small parties, and a few of our infantry were made prisoners when approaching too near the enemy's lines.

On Saturday evening, April 5, my company and Co G of the 77^th and one company of the 57^th Ohio, were sent out to relieve the pickets, about a mile and a half in front of our camp. With the aid of a field glass, which one of the officers carried, we could plainly see a considerable force of the enemy. Indeed with the naked eye we could see them on the edge of a wood across a large field from us. The rattle of arms could also be heard in the woods further to the right, but no troops were visible to us at that point then. /

About midnight Maj. Powell of the 25^th Missouri Vols came to our line from Gen. Prentiss' Division, and asked one of the pickets for the officer in command. Being directed to where I was located he asked my permission to pass outside of our lines reconnoitering. I asked him how many men he had, and he replied, forty. I told him I didn't deem it prudent for a small patrol to pass out, as there was a larger force of the enemy near. He then wished to know if he would go back to camp and bring out a strong battalion, if I would pass him through the pickets. To this I consented, and just before daylight he returned, with about five hundred picked men, from several northwestern states, and the pickets meantime having been advised by me of the movement, he passed through. He had not gone much over a hundred rods when his battalion was fired upon by a large body of the enemy. The rattle of so heavy and long line of musketry was evidence that it was no ordinary picket he had encountered or even the reserve force by which a picket line is usually supported when in the face of the enemy. It indicated the presence of a brigade or more of confederates. A sharp contest was waged for some minutes, and the wounded were being carried back to our line, when, just at dawn, the gallant Major and his men fell back to our picket line. I asked him if he were not going to make a stand at our line, reminding him of my promise to give him all the aid the three companies under my command could if he was compelled to fall back to our line,—though, as /

pickets, we could not advance with him; nor could we retreat with him unless compelled by superior forces of the enemy. It was a good position to resist the approaching foe, being the crest of a ridge. He replied that my position was correct, and my promise all he could ask, and consulted the Captain in his command as to the advisability of forming on our line for a determined resistance to the enemy's advance. They advised against it, saying there was a very large force in our front, and then they proceeded to camp, to join the main Union army and prepare for the coming onset. I had, in the meantime, sent a message to our brigade commander that we were attacked on the picket line, that he might reinforce us or give us orders. Colonel Hildebrand sent back orders to hold our position while we could, and when pressed too strongly to fall back slowly, but his orders had not reached me till we were attacked. As soon as the enemy came within long range, I ordered the entire picket force to fire a volley at them, to impress them with the belief that they confronted a large force. By this we expected to gain time. It had the desired effect, for they halted, and kept up a long range combat for some minutes, doing but little injury to my men. After a while they became convinced they were fighting the pickets only, and their line of battle moved forward. It was now clear daylight, and our /

only hope was in making the best resistance we could while retreating slowly. The ground in front of Shiloh church, as far out as the picket line, was broken into small ridges and ravines; and when we would leave a ridge we were not visible to the enemy climbing the ridge from the south. So we crossed the hollow quickly, and by the time they had reached the crest we had left, we had reached the next one north. Here we were halted in line, pieces all loaded, ready to receive them; and our volley would have the effect of checking their progress. In this way we fell back till we came to camp, when the sun was half to three fourths of an hour high. We found our Division in line, waiting for the foe.

We were ordered to take our places in the line of battle, which we did.

As the pickets had no breakfast, I got permission for some of them to prepare rations and bring to the men in line, which was of much service. We could see the gleam of the sunshine on the arms of the confederates as they slowly came down the slope across the ravine that runs in front of the old church, through the openings in the woods, so that we could almost locate their line in our front. As they became able to fix the position of our line of battle, they opened a brisk fire with artillery, to which some of our batteries replied.

The enemy's line steadily advanced, and soon came in rifle range. /

They opened a heavy fire of musketry, to which our line gave a like response. Their bullets generally passed over our heads, at first, as under cover of the woods they had come within shorter range than they supposed before the battle became hottest. Noticing this, I ordered my men to aim low, and I heard other company commanders repeat the order. For about two hours, amid the most deadly fire, our regiment held its position on the color line in front of Shiloh church. Meantime, the enemy had made inroads on the Union forces to our left, and the danger of being flanked made it necessary to move to the north, or rear, of the church. Here a long and stubborn resistance was made, and at this point Lieut. Thomas of my company, fell mortally wounded, and with him many more brave boys of the regiment fell.

Until late in the afternoon the conflict was desperate, the losses to both armies being great. Grant's forces had made a most gallant resistance against a force much greater in number and older in service. It will be remembered that like our own many other of his regiments had never been in a battle and had only been armed as they came upon this memorable field. But our men had been forced slowly back until our line was within less than a mile of the river when the first of Gen. Buell's Army of the Ohio, Gen. Nelson's Division, crossed the Tennessee and came on the field. Our regiment was in line, or what was left of it (for its losses were very heavy in killed and wounded) near a gap in the line of battle, probably made by some of the brigades /

taking different roads in passing obstructions. Just about the time Nelson's Division was crossing the river, a staff officer rode up to us and called our attention to the gap. Men were struggling along towards the river, from various commands, enough to fill the gap if rallied. This officer urged all to fall into line and fill up the gap,—to aid in protecting the artillery near us, so as to hold our position. He assured them that Gen. Buell was near at hand with force enough to crush the enemy. But the men did not generally fall in, some of them saying they had been fighting all day and had done enough; others saying, they could not find their officers or regiment. He then appealed to me and to a Lt. Colonel and Major who were riding near, to rally these men. I told him I would willingly do so, but was commanding my own company in the line in front of us. He asked me to get relieved and then do this urgent service. My regimental commander, on being asked, relieved me, leaving another officer in charge of my company, seeing the urgent need of someone who would rally these men. The Lieutenant Colonel and Major kept ordering them to fall in, but were meeting with such poor success that the Lieut. Colonel despaired of success and rode off, though the Major remained and looked hopeless.

I began to urge upon all the need of every man doing all he could, told them we had all been fighting from early morning; and, as the united efforts of all were needed till Buell could get across the river, it would not do for any to say they had done enough. That it was no use talking of waiting to find their officers, they could fight under any officer. Finally, /

their attention was called to the probability of being captured within the next half hour, if they failed to do all they could; and the danger of dying with yellow fever in a Southern prison during the approaching summer. This seemed to have the desired effect, for one after another vowed he would never be taken, to endure such an ordeal, they would "die right here first". Then, more quickly than I can write this, they fell into line, when I directed them, and soon proved quite a battalion. I then asked the Major, who sat on his horse looking on but saying nothing, to take command of these men and place them in the gap where the artillery was so much exposed, saying he ranked me, and should command. He hesitated at first, saying as I had rallied them, I was entitled to command them; but on my calling his attention to my own company needing my services, he gave the proper order to place them in the gap. But they did not obey him promptly, when I shouted, "move right up there, men; I am going with you". and as I had rallied them, with this they went. In a few moments the gap was closed, and these valuable guns safe. A confederate battalion of cavalry had just been brought forward to charge through this gap and capture them, but got there too late. When the enemy found the gap closed, a battery was directed to open on us, and if possible drive us away. We ordered the men to lie down, and they would be safe, as the ground was rolling and the enemy could not depress their pieces sufficiently to touch us while lying on the ground. /

They obeyed, but as the shells got closer and closer, though still a foot or more above us, it was all the Major and I could do to keep them in place. Indeed, I fear we should have failed had not Gen. M^cClernand, who was not far off, noticed their restlessness, and dashing along our line on a fleet horse, shouted the command: "Men, lie right where you are! You are safe if you do not move!" Thus assured by one in high command, they became less restless; and soon one of our batteries got the range of the confederate guns, and drove their artillery away; thus relieving us of further danger.

Not long after this, Gen. Buell's army came on the field, moved to the front, and Nelson's Division engaged the enemy for a brief period. Then as night was coming on, the conflict of the day closed.

We all lay on our arms that night, with orders to be ready to attack the enemy at an early hour.

On the morning of the 7^th Gen. Buell's army took the lead, as his troops were comparatively fresh,—having suffered very little in the brief time they were engaged on the evening of the 6^th. Grant's forces were in line, a strong and close support for Buell, if needed. The battle opened briskly all along the confederate front. But it was soon evident that it was to be no such contest as that of the previous day. Their line on the 6^th had been a long one, a semi-circle reaching from Owl creek to near /

Hamburg. Now, it did not seem, by the roar of the musketry, more than one third as long. They had lost over 13,000 in the battle, most of them the first day, and then their men had become demoralized, partly no doubt by the strong drink they found in the sutlers' tents as we fell back. Buell attacked them vigorously, and drove them steadily, so that before noon they had been driven off the field. Gen. Grant's forces hardly had a chance to take part in the conflict, for which they were so ready and eager. Had our cavalry been as efficient then as they became later in the war, they would have taken many thousands of prisoners. The death of Gen. A. S. Johnson had weakened them much,. and the loss of so many men, and to be driven before a victorious army, made them fit subjects for easy capture had they been pursued right vigorously by a few brigades of dashing troops, under such a gallant commander as Sheridan, Custer or Kilpatrick.

On the 8^th Gen. Sherman took his division and followed the enemy for several miles, and found the road strewn with debris, indicating with what haste they fled. Gen. Breckenridge, with a strong force, was guarding their rear, and protecting their retreat. With him were Gen. Forrest's brigade, the Texas Rangers, Col. Wirt Adams' Mississippi Regiment, and Forrest's Kentucky cavalry—three of the best cavalry regiments in the confederate service. When we approached a place called Fallen Timbers, the General sent Col. Dickey with a battalion of the 4^th Illinois cavalry, to reconnoiter. Col. Dickey soon came dashing back, apparently much excited, and reported that "the woods is full /

of rebel cavalry!" Gen. Sherman seemed annoyed at this, and by his manner indicated incredulity. He waived his hand to Col. Dickey and said: "Take your battalion to the rear." Turning to Col. Hildebrand, our brigade commander, he said: "Colonel, send your regiment forward and clear out that woods." Col. H. asked if he had not better take the brigade,—doubtless believing there were too many of the enemy's cavalry in the woods for the remnant of his regiment, the 77^th Ohio, to successfully attack, as it had been reduced to about two hundred for duty, by the casualties of the great battle through which it had passed. The General replied; "No halt your brigade here, and send your regiment under the Lieut. Colonel." Col. Hildebrand replied: "As the Lieut. Colonel has had little experience, the Major had better take command." As Col. De Hass was not expressly relieved, the battalion moved to the front at once, he riding at its head and Maj. Fearing riding alongside, neither saying a word till we got almost in gunshot of the enemy. Seeing the enemy about to charge, which proved to be Forrest's brigade of cavalry, Maj. Fearing ordered "Battalion forward into line, double quick, march!" The movement was made in a very short time, and as the cavalry were charging upon us with great speed, firing their double-barreled shot guns, he ordered us to fire, which order was promptly obeyed, and a very effective volley delivered. No time was had to re-load, and without orders from the Major, I ordered my men to fix bayonets, which /

order I think was obeyed by all the battalion who could hear me, or perhaps the others followed the example of Co. G. The cavalry then halted a few paces from us, and emptied their revolvers into our ranks at a distance safe from our bayonets. Many of our men were shot down, my right arm being broken by one of these shots, among the casualties. Several of our best men were killed in this action, more wounded, and still a greater number made prisoners. When the cavalry found us so badly cut to pieces that they were able to do so, they dashed among us with the sabres and took prisoners by the score, while some perished by the sword. After being wounded, which brought me to the ground, I found some Texas Rangers standing over me, demanding my surrender. When the ball struck my arm, I was firing my revolver, and the blow rendering the arm useless, the revolver fell from my grasp at arm's length. Being thus disabled and disarmed, surrender was inevitable and compliance only saved my life. My first Sergeant A J Duval, replied to such demand, "No, never; I will die under the stars and stripes!" and was instantly shot dead.

On being taken to the rear, about a mile from the scene of this last action, I was told to "Go into that tent, the General wants to see you." Entering, I saw Gen. Breckenridge, and addressing him, saying "Gen. Breckenridge, I see." "Yes," he replied "but how do you come to know my name?" I told him my name, and gave my residence, as Marietta Ohio, and said I had met /

him at the Cincinnati Convention, when he was nominated for Vice President. He replied, "I remember you very well, you were publishing a Democratic paper there at that time." His object in having me brought to his quarters was to gain what information as he could in regard to the Union army, and he commenced questioning me at once.

"What forces were engaged in the battle of the 6^th?"

"Gen. Grant's."

"How many men had he on that day in the fight?"

"About 25,000 to 28,000 Gen. Lew Wallace's division did not get on the field in time to be engaged."

"How many men did you lose?"

"About 13,000 killed and wounded and captured, in the two days."

"When did Gen. Buell join Grant?"

"Late Sunday evening."

"What forces were engaged yesterday?"

"Gen. Buell's army—though Gen. Grant's forces were on the field ready to participate, but your army retreated too soon to give us a chance to do much yesterday."

"How many men do you estimate we had against you?"

"From reports from prisoners taken we learned you had over 40,000."

"How many men did we lose, according to your information?"

"The rebel loss was about the same as the Union casualties, though you lost more in killed and wounded than we did while you took more prisoners than we captured."

"From what command did we take most prisoners?"

"They were mostly from Gen. Prentiss' division. He lost nearly 2,000."

"How many men have you since Gen. Buell joined you?" /

I declined to answer this question, as it might injure our cause, and he admitted I was right in refusing.

"That is a question, General, which I think you have no right to ask, and you cannot expect me to answer it."

On receiving this reply he laughed, and said "I guess you are about right." The questioning here ceased on this point but he asked:

"What force was engaged in the conflict today, in which you were taken?"

"Gen. Sherman's division."

"Is it merely a reconnaissance, or is your whole army advancing?"

"I personally know of my own division, but I think you will see the whole army soon enough."

My purpose was to leave the impression that Gen. Sherman was not without support lest the enemy should cut him off, and capture his division before he could get back to camp.

"Now, General, if you are through with me I want to be sent to a hospital, as I have a badly broken arm that needs a surgeon's care."

"You shall go," he replied, and instructed the waiting guards to take me. When I fell, with the wound, I had grasped my right arm near the wrist, and drawing it across my body, held it firmly, so as to prevent the broken bones from grinding together as I was hurried to the rear. The man who captured me asked if I could walk, and being told I could, he undertook to make me double quick, holding a revolver to my head, and threatening my life if I refused. I did not, and told him I could not double quick. /

He kept repeating his threat, and urging me to "double-quick", but I kept on at a quick pace only taking care not to say I would not double-quick. The balance of our brigade had been brought to the support of the regiment, too late to be of service in the fight; but it had frightened the rebel cavalry so they were in great haste to get their prisoners and themselves in the rear. This timely movement of the brigade prevented the balance of our regiment from being captured, as well as Gen. Sherman himself; as so confident was he that there was no force in the woods that our little regiment could not clean out, that he was close up to us when the bloody affair took place.

On leaving Gen. Breckenridge's quarters, the guards took me out the Corinth road, where a score or more of prisoners of war, who were not wounded, were held till ready to be marched south. I protested against this, as in going there we had passed a hospital, and I kept reminding them that the General had ordered them to take me to a hospital. They replied, in angry tones, that they knew their duty, and commanded me to keep quiet. So I said no more till I came to a confederate officer, when I reported the matter to him. He remarked: "If the General said you were to go to a hospital you shall go." As he said this he looked inquiringly at the guards who had heard me report the general's order to him, to see if they would deny or admit it. They did neither, and he was evidently convinced my report was true, so he ordered them to take me there, which they sullenly obeyed.

At the door of the hospital, which I found to be at Gen. Hardee's /

headquarters, I met an officer with M.S. on his collar, who I soon ascertained was Dr. Geo. W. Lawrence, medical director of Hardee's corps, and I asked him if he was the surgeon in charge. He said he belonged to the medical staff, and asked what he could do for me. I told him I was glad to see him, as I had a broken arm that needed attention. He said he would make me gladder still, as he would take me into the hospital where some of the Federal surgeons were dressing wounds, and they would care for me. He examined the wound and pronounced it "a bad compound fracture", and took me to our surgeons, who promised to give my case attention as soon as they got through dressing some wounds on which they were then engaged. In about half an hour, which to a suffering man waiting aid seems a long period, these surgeons examined my arm, first cutting away my coat which they could not otherwise remove. They agreed with the Medical Director that it was a compound fracture; the bone broken and the flesh badly lacerated. I overheard them talking of amputation, and saw them getting the instruments ready to perform the operation. I asked them what they were proposing to do, and they said: "getting ready to amputate your arm." I asked, "Is it usual to take off limbs without the consent of the patient?" "No" was the reply, "but I never knew a patient to refuse consent when the surgeon said it was necessary to save his life."

"Do you think it necessary to save my life, doctor?"

"I think it extremely hazardous to life to take any other course," he replied. I protested earnestly, telling them as I was a young man of temperate habits and buoyant spirits, I thought I would /

live if they would bandage the arm the best they could. I argued that the ball had broken the bone so near the shoulder that they could not make a successful operation without amputating it at the shoulder joint, to which they assented. Then I added the fluids of the joint would prevent the wound from healing, and that I had read enough surgery to know that only in about one case out of a dozen would the patient live. That as it was my right arm I would almost as lief die as lose it, and that if they would do the best they could, without amputation, and I died, I would be responsible, and clear them of all blame. They called in the Medical Director, who was a thorough physician and surgeon, of long practice, and submitted the matter to him. He listened to my statements, and decided in my favor. He said: "The Captain is right. With his youth and good spirits, I think his life can be saved without amputation. Pluck and a determination to live will do much in such a case." Under his direction, they applied bandages, with the best dressings they could give, and saved the arm, though I cannot say the patient did not suffer severely with it during the six months imprisonment that followed. Many times during the summer Captain A. Chandler and Lieut. H. Criswell, who were prisoners with me, held quiet conferences when I was not present, and pronounced it only a question of time when that arm, swollen to twice its normal size, and a dark purple from the shoulder to the fingers, would cause my death. /

In a day or two, the hospital was broken up, and I was taken eighteen miles to Corinth, on a corduroy road, in a common army wagon without springs—the ambulances all being in use taking the confederate wounded south. On reaching Corinth, by some oversight, and not with the knowledge or consent of Dr. Lawrence I am sure, I was taken to a building where the uninjured prisoners were confined, instead of to a hospital. After I had been there some time Dr. Young, surgeon of the 48^th Illinois, who was among the prisoners, at the hospital, heard I was in Corinth, and came to my relief. He found that the bandage, which was made of strong splints and muslin, and very tight, with the rough ride and long interval since the dressing, had stopped the circulation in the arm; and that the hand was blue and finger-nails purple. Cutting the muslin to give relief, the rush of blood through the arm caused the most deathly sickness I ever suffered. But restoratives were administered, the wound newly dressed, and I was moved to the hospital, at the Tishomingo Hotel, where I had the best of care for a month.

During my conversation with Gen. Breckenridge, a Tennesseean who was present protested bitterly because I called their forces rebels. The general turned to him and said "What would you have me do to resent it? He is an unarmed prisoner of war, and entitled to be treated as such. Besides he doubtless thinks we are rebels and might as well say it. I have more respect for one who has the manliness to say what he thinks," to which remark /

of their chief all the others present heartily assented, and the fire-eater from Memphis was silenced.

After my wound had been dressed, and some restoratives administered, I was feeling comfortable enough to talk, and Gen. Breckenridge came to see me. His recollection of my efforts in his behalf at the Cincinnati Convention to which some of his friends attributed his nomination for Vice President, evidently made him feel some interest in me. Perhaps the fact that he had found me well informed about army matters at his first interview after my capture, made him wish to see if he could learn something of the course that would be pursued by the government in regard to those engaged in a war against it. He inquired how I was getting along, whether I had good medical attention and care, and expressed a hope that I would speedily recover from my wound. Then he adverted to the war.

"I am surprised to find you and other Democrats from the north, and especially from the Ohio and Mississippi valleys, in the Federal army," said the General. "We have always regarded you as our friends and brothers, bound together by political ties, and the great ties of nature, the great rivers moving our commerce from the interior to the Gulf."

I reminded him that the Democrats of the north had always been firm friends of the Union, and that while we had conceded to the people of the south all the rights the constitution guaranteed to them and had a warm affection for southern brethren we stood by them as friends of the Union, which they then claimed to be. Now, we found them arrayed in arms against the Union, and /

we would fight them if they were our own brothers. He made no reply to this further than to say:

"Our relations have always been most cordial, we have always had a warm affection for the northern Democrats, and we cannot understand how you can hate us so much as to be found among our armed foes." I replied: "General, it is not necessary for us to hate you to make us oppose you with arms; it is not that we love Caesar less but Rome more; and while you are trying to destroy our country you must expect us to fight you." He laughed and remarked: "Oh! What a Rome it has got to be."

He then asked what was to be the result of the conflict. I replied we intended to subdue the rebellion, and establish the authority of the Government, and cause the Union flag to fly in triumph over every foot of soil in the Union.

"But" added he, "We are not in the Union: we have seceded." At this assertion I was forced to laugh, and replied: "You are too much of a statesman to contend for the doctrine of secession. You will know it has no warrant in the Constitution, or in our form of government. If you were to succeed in establishing your independence, it would be the first thing you would discard as repugnant to a confederacy—otherwise you states would be bound together by a mere rope of sand."

He asked why we could not let them alone, and permit them to have such government as they wished; that they would not disturb us if we did not invade their states. My reply, "It is not /

invasion for the United States Government to take her armies to any part of the country," and that "so long as we find armed forces in rebellion it is our right and our duty to fight them."

"But this is not rebellion, it is revolution" he answered.

"Not revolution; it takes success to make it revolution."

"Well" he replied, "We will make revolution of it before we are through." On my replying I thought it impossible, he asked "How long do you think it will take you to conquer us? do you expect to do it in ninety days, as Secretary Seward claims?"

I replied "I am not so sanguine as the Secretary, but whether it takes a year, three years or twenty years, we are sure to suppress the rebellion, and maintain the integrity of the Union, and the supremacy of its flag."

"Then what will you do if you succeed; hang us all and confiscate our property?" he asked.

"No, I do not think that will be the policy of the Government," I replied. "I do not think there will be much property, if any, confiscated, and there will probably be general amnesty as to the rank and file of the Southern army; but I think the Government will hang a few of the leaders in the rebellion to show the country that treason is not profitable."

At this he shrugged his shoulders and replied: "If it comes to that they will never hang me."

"Why, General, do you not think you are one of the leaders?"

He could not forget that his prominence made him one, as he had been Vice President and then a United States Senator from Kentucky /

and that although his state did not secede, he left the U.S. Senate when the rebellion began to take a Major General's commission from Jefferson Davis, the President of the so-called Confederacy. Besides he had been the seceders' candidate for President in 1860, disrupting his party to insure the election of an opponent most distasteful to the south, to make an excuse for rebellion. He had not waited to see if President Lincoln would deal fairly with all sections, but did all he could to take men from his own loyal state into the rebel army. "Well" he replied "I do not know but I may be regarded as one of the leaders; but if our cause becomes desperate, I will take good care to get out of the country, and will never be captured." This reply was fresh in my mind when the news came that Jefferson Davis had been captured in Georgia, and that John C. Breckenridge, his Secretary of War, had escaped at the close of the rebellion, and from his desperate efforts to reach a foreign land at that time, I do not believe he ever forgot the resolve he made four years before.

A sketch written by John Taylor Wood entitled "Escape of the Confederate Secretary of War" published in the Century of Nov. 1893 gives a full and clear account of his flight—how he and the author of the sketch, with Messrs Russell, Wilson and O'Toole and a faithful colored servant of the Secretary, waded the swamps of Florida, dragged a row-boat through shoal places, took it over the portage from the St John's river to the Indian river, then out to the coast; compelled the owners of a little sloop to trade it to /

them for the boat and some gold; worked the sloop through the Florida reefs and into the gulf stream, and finally to the coast of Cuba, meantime living on turtles eggs and such poor subsistence as they could pick up. As the war was really over, confederate soldiers would not have endured the privation, fatigue and hardships of all kinds this party encountered for fear of capture; as they would have been at once paroled and sent home. But even as late as the second week in June this party, of which he, under the name of Col. Cabell, was the chief and leader, though he wore the rough dress of a common deck hand and labored in the water and mud with the rest, were hiding in swamps at the approach of a strange vessel, and sending out a scout to see if they were safe from capture, and to if possible replenish their supplies and save them from starving.

The General took passage from Cuba to England, and remained there a long time, then came to Canada, where he remained till an amnesty bill had passed Congress, broad enough to include him, before he ventured into the United States—a country he had wronged. /

Soon after the interview with Gen. Breckenridge ended, I was take eighteen miles over a rough road—much of it corduroy—in a jolt wagon, to Corinth Miss., where I was put in the Tishomingo Hospital, well cared for during the month that followed. It is probable my careful nursing at the Corinth hospital was mostly due to the kindness of Medical Director Lawrence, who manifested an interest in me from the first, which seemed to be increased by the independence exhibited by me on the occasion of Gen. Breckenridge's call. The surgeon in charge told me he was directed to give me the best of care, and he would naturally get his order from the Medical Director. I was given a well-furnished room in the second story, and two soldier nurses were detailed to take turns in administering to my wants.

The first few days my wound gave me comparatively little trouble, but then it caused a fever which prostrated me about ten days. I then became convalescent, and as I was willing to talk many of the confederate officers called to see and talk to me,—among them Gens. Hardee, Ruggles and Preston, and many Southern ladies, officers' wives and others, called in to talk and bring delicacies to eat. Dr. Lawrence had evidently interested Gen. Hardee in my case, as he called often, and discussed national affairs, in a courteous and candid manner, on one occasion he asked me whose infantry tactics we were then /

using. I replied: "Hardee's." He inquired if I knew who was the author. I said: "Yes, I know it was prepared by you, because it bears on its title page the name of Wm. J. Hardee, Lieut. Colonel United States Infantry." This gave me the opportunity to ask him how he, who had been educated at the expense of the United States, at her military academy, and was at the beginning of the war a field officer in the government service, could turn against it and the honored flag, of the nation, and take up arms against them? I will never forget his reply, "Nothing in my life ever gave me so much pain as to turn my back on the old flag, which I had always loved so much. But what could I do? I had been taught to believe my first allegiance was due to my native state, Georgia. My family, property and interests were all in the state, and my sympathies with the southern people. When the conflict came, which I had hoped would never occur, I could but cast my lot with them. But I would now give all I possess in the world if all could be restored as before the war began," replied Gen. Hardee. The candid and earnest manner in which he said this not only convinced me of his sincerity, but caused the wife of a Lieutenant of the famous Washington artillery, of New Orleans, to remark after he left, that she now could see matters in a different light than before. She had hastened to Corinth as soon as she heard of the great battle of Shiloh, as /

had many other southern ladies, to administer to the comfort of the wounded—she fearing her husband might be among the sufferers. She had listened with close interest to our conversation, in which I maintained the cause of the Union and he admitted so much. She said she had not heard our side of the question so presented since the secession began, and seemed impressed that it was a needless war. Another lady who had heard Gen. Preston, of Kentucky, tell me it was the intention of the confederates, had they defeated us at Shiloh, to march in triumph across Tennessee and Kentucky, and capture Cincinnati. She asked: "Did we not gain a victory at Shiloh?" and the general admitted to her that it could not be claimed by them as more than a drawn battle. "Then, are not our troops going to march on and capture Cincinnati?" to which the general replied that it would not then be practicable to attempt it, at which she seemed much disappointed. A Vicksburg lady, who had the name of being usually very amiable, some days later, on hearing that New Orleans had been taken, became so angry that she was reported to have said she "felt like taking a knife and cutting the throat of every Yankee in the hospital" but I never saw or heard any such manifestation in the room I occupied. I had many occasions to thank these ladies for sisterly kindness shown me. After I had recovered from the fever caused by my wound /

and it had begun to heal. I was allowed to go outside of the hospital sometimes. I was May 9 sent hurriedly to Columbus Miss. The Union troops were getting close to Corinth, and shells began to explode near the village. When Gen. Pope made his demonstration at Farmington, the confederates began to think Corinth in danger of being captured. As this was so early in the war that they did not know what course would be pursued in that event, many of them came to ask me what they might expect. They seemed fearful that hospitals would be fired into, and wanted to know how the danger could be avoided. I told them that the Union army would observe all the rules of civilized warfare, and that if the hospitals were so designated as to be known, they would be safe from assault. That the yellow flag was known all over civilization, as the mark for a hospital, and if these were displayed, no harm would befall the houses and tents so marked. In a few hours most of the houses of any considerable size, as well as many tents, were decorated with flags made of yellow calico, which was then much worn by colored women, and the village stores thus having enough in stock. Had Gen. Halleck, who was making slow approaches, known the situation, he could have easily taken Corinth the first week of May, as well as the last. On May 9^th all prisoners who were able to walk were taken from the /

hospitals, marched on to the station, and sent by railroad to Columbus, Miss. to keep us from being recaptured. There we were placed in the upper story of a house with a flat tin roof, the wounded with the uninjured who had been sent there for confinement. In this room, only large enough to quarter a dozen, were crowded scores of Union soldiers, of whom many had wounds nearly as severe as my own, and we were kept there several days without the care of a surgeon, or anyone to dress the wounds. The guards would not let us approach the windows for a little fresh air, the air in the room having become almost unendurable. To come near a window was to have a musket leveled at us, with a threat, in no gentle language, of instant death if we did not at once leave the window. This cruel and unnecessarily strict guarding was doubtless the result of an order from Col. M^cLean of the 37^th Mississippi Regt. who commanded the post.

After several days a newspaper published in the town, an intensely southern sheet, but conducted by a humane editor, severely criticized the confederates for the neglect of the wounded Yankees, saying there were plenty of surgeons in Columbus to attend to us, and room enough that we might be taken out of the pen in which we were suffocating. This brought several surgeons to see us and resulted in our being removed to better quarters, and in having surgical treatment. /

I was taken to a room where several Union officers were confined, among them Col. C. E. Adams, of the Engineers Corps of the West, Capt. J. J. Geer, of the 48^th Ohio, and Lieut. Wm. H. Herbert of the 70^th Ohio. We were very poorly fed, and had no bedding furnished. Unless one had been so fortunate as to have a blanket when captured, he had to lie on the bare floor. I was one who had none, but Capt. Geer, a kind Christian gentleman, who had been a minister of the gospel for years before he became an army officer, gave me his, and insisted on my using it, as I was wounded, while he being well, slept on the floor.

We made some complaints to the guards, the only person, except a colored man who brought our scanty rations, we ever saw; and these brought Col. M^cLean to see us. He listened a few minutes to what we had to say, and said the treatment was "good enough for Yankees taken while invading the Southern Confederacy". Seeing that he intended giving us no relief, Lieut. Herbert said: "I understand Colonel, you are a minister of the gospel?" Col. M^cLean replied: "Yes, I was in the ministry before this war began, but now I have put off the robes of righteousness, and put on the robes of blood." "I suppose the treatment we are getting is about what we may expect from the officers of the so-called Southern Confederacy," said the Lieutenant. "So-called Confederacy!" shouted the colonel in a bitter tone. "Young man, what is your name? I will teach you that the /

Confederacy is a government, and that it will punish such insolence!" "My name is Herbert, Lieut. Wm. H. Herbert, sir, I know you can punish me, as I am a defenseless prisoner in your hands. You can put me in a dungeon, you can keep me on bread and water, you can take me out and shoot or hang me—but you cannot make me have any respect for your so-called confederacy," replied the plucky young officer. The post commander left, and soon a sergeant called and asked for Lieut. Herbert, and took him to a miserable damp dungeon, where he was kept at starvation point while we remained in Columbus. Col. Adams had met Gen. Slaughter, a humane officer who commanded the Department, and he managed through the help of the faithful old colored man, a true friend of the Union soldiers, to get a letter to the general concealed under a paper in the bottom of the basket in which he brought our rations. In this he gave the general the facts as to our treatment, and asked that we be sent elsewhere; and an order soon came breaking up the post, sending us to Montgomery Ala., and causing Col. M^cLean and his regiment to report to the front, for field service.

On our way to Montgomery we were confined a short time in a slave pen, in Mobile, and saw an auction block on which many a poor colored man and woman had been sold into still more cruel servitude than had been endured on the old plantation /

on which the slave was raised. Thank God it is not in use now, as the President and army of the United States, were instruments in forever ending the traffic, and the hated institution of slavery which made it possible.

At Montgomery we were first held in the county jail, and the man who brought us rations, finding we were all commissioned officers of the United States army, treated us with much consideration, and expressed many regrets that the confederates would "put gentlemen in a common jail for no offence except fighting for their country". Soon we were transferred into the old cotton shed, which had been converted into a military prison, and here we got our first view of the notorious Capt. Wirtz, who had charge of this prison. Among those confined there was a poor emaciated Union soldier, on the brink of death, from starvation and other ill-usage, and whose sole request was to be given a cup of coffee. It is well known that coffee was not furnished to prisoners by the confederates, but he hoped that in his pitiable condition, he might persuade them to get him a little. The guards told him they could not get it for him; that only Capt. Wirtz could. Then day after day he asked to see the Captain with a hope that he might prevail on him to grant this one little request of a dying prisoner. It was quite a while before the Captain came into the prison, but one day /

he was pointed out to him, and he was told the Captain would probably come near where he lay, before he would leave the enclosure. His eyes followed the object of his anxiety till he came near, and then he managed to attract his attention and make his wish known. If he "could only get a cup of coffee" he would be so grateful. Capt. Wirtz turned on him with the fierceness of a tiger for presuming to make such a request and shaking his finger in his face said: "Give you coffee, give you coffee! When Uncle Abe raises the blockade, then I will give you coffee!" He well knew this would not be during the war, and that this poor soldier would then be dead, but he cruelly denied it, though he doubtless had a supply for his own use, as confederate officers usually had.

On the 9^th of June we were taken to Camp Oglethorpe at Macon Ga. where we were placed with hundreds of other prisoners, many of them non-commissioned officers, the privates having been sent home on parole. Here men were dying very rapidly with diseases incident to camp or prison life. Capt. Chandler and Lieut. Criswell became so much emaciated that when I would talk to either of them we would conclude that the other could not live long. I was told by them after exchange that in my absence they often predicted that my wound, and hardships of prison life, /

would soon prove fatal. We took good care to not tell the other that the two conversing had come to this sad conclusion. (they lived till after the war, but my two beloved companions have since died of their hardships) The surgeon, at Macon, was often appealed to in vain for medicines. He said he could not get them as Major Rylander, who was in command at the prison refused to approve his requisitions on the medical purveyor, and, without such approval, the requisition could not be honored. The Major is said to have remarked that he did not care to have medicines furnished to treat sick Yankees, as the best use they could be put to was to let them die and be put under ground.

Early in July, all the commissioned officers held at Macon were sent to Madison Ga. where we were kept in an old cotton factory. Here about two hundred commissioned officers were confined, among them Gen. B. M. Prentiss and Gen. T. T. Crittenden, with many Colonels, Majors, and line officers, but no enlisted men. We were probably treated with a little more consideration than at Macon, but there was little if any improvement in the rations. While here Capt. Geer exchanged his blue clothing for gray, and made his escape, but after being out some weeks, and getting close to the Union lines, he was recaptured and brought back. He had nearly starved and was worn out and thin, and his clothing, which was old when /

he traded for it, was nearly torn to pieces in the briers and bushes through which he had passed, oftentimes in the dark. The nights were getting chilly, as fall approached, and I gave him my overcoat to wear, Dr. Lawrence having given me a dress coat, probably left by some Union officer who had died, to wear instead of the one they cut from me at the time the first surgical care was given. The surgeons had ripped the right sleeve of the overcoat from wrist to shoulder, and he sent it out by the faithful old colored man who came in with the rations to get it repaired. When it was returned, our dusky friend told the Captain if he would search under the lining of the skirt he would find something of interest. He at once explored and found a part of the Richmond Enquirer and in it President Lincoln's Proclamation of emancipation, the first any of us had seen or heard of it. We all rejoiced over it, though probably with not as deep emotion as the poor fellow who brought it—as it made him free.

A few days after this, word came that we were to be sent north to be paroled and exchanged. We could not believe it at first, as such rumors had come to us so often, and after raising our hopes had proved false, causing us to realize that "hope deferred maketh the heart sick". But we soon found that it was true, this time, as an officer called and showed us /

the official order. This was late in the evening, and we were to go next day. Such good news excited us to a degree that sleep was almost impossible, and any who felt like sleeping were prevented till near morning by the hilarity of some of the most highly elated. Next morning when the officer came to escort us to the train, a group gathered around him, and in as solemn tone as could be, expressed our regret that a most cherished object, by which we had all set store, would have to be left behind. The officer knowing that we had little baggage, or anything of this world's goods, and seemingly sympathizing with our anticipated deprivation, asked us what it was, assuring us that the quartermaster would furnish transportation for it. He joined us in a hearty laugh when we told him it was a tunnel we had been working on for months, leading from under the floor of the prison to beyond the stockade, and which was nearly completed. We had hoped to make an escape by it some dark night soon, had not orders for our parole arrived; but now as the prison was to be emptied, we willingly disclosed its location, so well concealed before. We were soon on the way, but when we reached Columbia S.C. we were taken from the train and placed in the city jail. Many had been skeptical as to the intention of the confederates to parole us, and these now claimed that we were to go no further—that the order shown us was not truthful, but got up to make us quickly go /

when ordered, and not attempt to escape. These doubters said we were now beyond hope of rescue by our forces as we were so much further from our lines, and more securely confined. We who believed otherwise asked those in charge for an explanation, and were told that orders had come from head quarters that all available rolling stock must be sent at once to move troops, and that caused our train to be taken back. As they were concentrating troops at Corinth again, where a battle soon took place, doubtless such an order had been issued. After some days another train, with a few stock cars and flats was provided, and we were started north. After passing Charlotte N.C. we came to a long grade, and it was found the old dilapidated engine could not pull the train to the top of the grade. Half way up the steam became exhausted, and the train stopped. The engineer endeavored to get up steam sufficient to proceed, but failed. He then ran the train backwards down the grade, and up a short grade across the valley, by use of the little steam he had. He again waited to make steam, saying from this point he hoped to gain momentum sufficient to enable him to reach the top of the longer grade. But it failed, and he made a second like effort. Believing this would also end in failure, on his plan, I asked the officer in command of the guards if he would permit us to jump off when the steam became too low to keep the train moving, and /

by our efforts aid it to get the train up the grade. He readily gave permission, and I passed along the train getting the consent of nearly all to aid, and at the given signal we jumped to the ground, all took hold of the cars and pushing with united energy, were gratified to see the speed of the nearly halting train accelerated, and soon the grade-top reached. Then all got aboard and went on our way rejoicing towards "the land we loved the best".

When we reached Salisbury N.C. where there was another confederate prison, the train halted. As we were detained there some considerable time, without any cause apparent to us, those who had been so uneasy at Columbia renewed their predictions that we would not be sent home. They said we would probably be put in Salisbury prison, and perhaps kept a great while. They had no faith in the promise of the enemy. The more hopeful did all we could to cheer our despondent companions, and as we soon passed on to Richmond, hope revived. We were put in Libby Prison, which had the reputation of being worse than any we had left. This was enough to make the most hopeful lose faith. We were told, however, that we would not be kept long, that a paroling officer would soon have his rolls prepared for us to sign, and then we would be free. On the eleventh of October we were paroled, and conducted at once to Aiken's Landing, where we saw the stars and stripes floating for the fist time in six months. /

Some of the officers were so rejoiced that they ran on board the steamer and hugged the flag staff from which the much loved banner floated. It was the first thing that made us realize that we were indeed free, and no longer in the hands of the enemy. The magnificent steamer, with her full stock of excellent rations, contrasted so strongly with the miserable prisons, and still more miserable rations we had left that no one need be surprised that many wild demonstrations of joy were made as she pulled out from the landing for Fortress Monroe. With a brief stop at the fortress, we steamed up the Chesapeake Bay, and were soon at Annapolis. It did not take long to wire the War Department and get leave to go to Washington, when we were speedily paid for six months, and enabled to get new uniforms, and go home to our loved ones for thirty days.

While walking along the streets of the national capital, several of us had our attention called to demonstrations of joy made by Lieut. Herbert. He had bought a daily paper, and in glancing over the details of the battle of Corinth, which had been fought on the 4^th, his eye fell on the name of Col. M^cLean, 37^th Miss. among the confederate slain. He had not forgotten the cruel treatment this officer had given him, and it is not strange that he pronounced the news "glory enough for one day".

While at Washington, Gen. Prentiss called on the President, as /

was natural. He had fought gallantly at Shiloh, but had the misfortune to be flanked, overpowered and captured. His six months imprisonment had been an impediment to the desired advancement, and he evidently wished to impress the President, so as to have it retard him as little as possible. President Lincoln was willing to concede his merit and in due time gave him the coveted promotion. But Gen. Grant, who was junior to him when both Colonels of Illinois Regiments and became a Brigadier General about the same time he did, had more renown and a second star at the capture of Fort Donaldson, and was now a Major General commanding a Department. It is said that Gen. Prentiss exhibited a little jealousy, and intimated that if Grant had managed differently at Shiloh on the 6^th, that our losses would not have been so heavy, and that Prentiss' Division would not have been captured. He is said to have told the President that Grant drinks, and that the inquiry was "What does he drink?" "Why whisky, of course" "In that case General," we are told the President replied "I wish you would find out what brand of whisky he drinks, and I will have a barrel of it sent to each army head quarters, for it is the fighting kind."

Most of us did not stay long in Washington, much as there was to interest us there and always has been since. We were too anxious to join our families and friends as our leave of absence would /

soon expire, exchange come, and we would join our commands at the front, to again battle for the good cause. A telegram to the postmaster at Marietta soon brought a response that my wife and children, from whom I had not heard for half a year, were at my father's at Waynesburg Pa, to which place I started by the first train. Pittsburg was as near as I could go by rail, and on arriving there a team was hired, as there was no public conveyance, and no time was lost in reaching my family. To those who have never been so long in enforced absence, it is needless to attempt to describe the joy felt at such a reunion.

A few short weeks and we were ready to rejoin our comrades in the field. Before leaving Columbus, Captain Chandler and I called on Gov. Tod, and as Capt. Chandler's commission had been captured in his trunk, on the battlefield, he asked for a duplicate. The Governor accompanied us into the Adjutant General's office to look at the record of the regiment, and found noted on the roster of officers "Albert Chandler, Capt. Co. K. killed near Shiloh, April 8, 1862". The Governor jokingly remarked, "Why, Captain, according to the record you are dead." The Captain said he was not dead, and I vouched for his identity and veracity. The Governor added: "Well, as you say you are not dead and Captain M^cCormick vouches for you I am willing to take your word for it, and you shall have a duplicate of your commission," whereupon he directed the Adjutant General to make out the duplicate. /

I noticed Maj. Fearing had been made Lieut. Col. of the 92^nd Ohio, and Capt. Mason promoted to Major of the 77^th. Gen. Sherman, after the army reached Memphis the last of August 1862, in order to relieve the 13^th Regiment U.S. Infantry, of which he was Colonel, detached the 77^th Ohio from his command, to guard the prisoners at Alton, Ills. and recruit its ranks so thinned by casualties of battle and other hardships of a long campaign. Here I found my comrades on Dec 25, 1862 when I reported for active duty. My wound had healed, the bone had united, but the muscle had perished away, in a great measure, and the elbow was so bent and stiff that I could not hold my sword in a natural position. In time this partial anchylosis passed away, and the arm became quite useful even though it lacks the strength it once possessed. Col. Hildebrand, a gallant officer, died April 18, 1863 and as Lieut. Col. De Hass had been much absent Maj. Mason was promoted to Colonel, and Capt. Stevens to Major.

In a few months most of those who had been sick and wounded reported for duty, and many new recruits were added to our regiment, and we were anxious to go into more active service. Life at Alton, where most of the officers were joined by our families, was very pleasant. It was enjoyed by all of us, no doubt, and the people of that city manifested the kindest feelings for us. We will never forget their friendship and goodwill. But when their country needs the blows their sons can strike its /

enemies true soldiers desire to be where they can strike more effectively the foe, and the officers of the regiment sent Gen. Curtis our united request to be sent to the front. The order relieving us and ordering the Regiment to report to Gen. F. Steele at Helena Ark., was issued.

We became part of the Arkansas Expedition, and were brigaded with the 36^th Iowa and 43^rd Indiana regiments and Aug. 11 marched for Little Rock. Except by some cavalry scouting parties, the country through which we passed had not been much disturbed by Union troops. Missouri had been marched and fought over a great deal, but south of that state the trans-Mississippi country had not been much under the control of Union forces. Our march was slow, as much of it was impeded by bad roads and a danger of attacks from large bodies of the enemy known to be in front and on our flanks. We reached Duval's Bluffs, on the White River, Aug. 31, after marching through swampy country, and a very large part of our army there suffered from chills and fever. Dr. Cooke, one of our assistant surgeons, died and was buried here. One of our officers afterward said that he was the only commissioned officer of the regiment who did not have ague at the Bluffs. The march across Grand Prairie, Sept 2, before we had so far recovered as to really be able to march, was very trying on us all. The heat was intense, and we could get no water till we got to Brownsville. Many dropped down with sunstroke in the afternoon, not a particle of /

shade being accessible.

Gen. Steele found the army strongly fortified on the direct road, and determined to capture Little Rock by a flank movement. He marched a part of his infantry, and some light artillery, on the road towards the city, and made a feint, to enable him to get the cavalry across the Arkansas river some ten miles below. We marched near enough their lines to shell them, and then marched back to follow the cavalry. On our way back Col. Mason's horse became entangled in a broken and hanging telegraph wire, and so frightened that he was unmanageable. Making a wild plunge, he dashed the Colonel against the root of a large tree, breaking his jaw, and giving him internal injuries which well nigh proved fatal at the time, and from the effects of which he suffered during the remainder of his days.

Gen. Steele's ruse was successful, and the Union cavalry were safely across the river and marching up the south side near the city before they were discovered. Meantime, the infantry and artillery were marching in a parallel column up the north side. Our artillery delivered well directed shots in their fortifications in our front, and occasionally landed a shell in the midst of a smaller force which was offering resistance to the cavalry, across the river. Finding their principal fortifications flanked, and a fire in the rear, with a spirited cavalry charge, they abandoned their works Sept 10, and fled the city, of which we took possession. /

Here we remained during the fall, building winter quarters, repairing the Memphis and Little Rock railroad and bringing forward supplies. Occasional marches were made to Pine Bluffs and other places of importance, by considerable forces from our army, to keep the country in subjection, and see that the enemy did not again get a lodgment. During December, I was engaged for a time in defending men of our brigade, and some others charged with desertion, absence without leave and other military offences, before a Court Martial. Then this court was dissolved, and another formed, of which I was a member, and on which duty I served till near the end of the month. Our regiment then re-enlisted with great unanimity, and we started for Ohio, on Veteran furlough, and to fill up our ranks with recruits. As so nearly all became veterans, the few who did not re-enlist—through ill health or other cause—were detached and left with an officer at Little Rock while the regiment went home in a body, to be mustered out and mustered in as Veterans at Columbus.

When we reached Memphis the weather was mild and pleasant, and we took a steamer for Cairo, intending to there take rail. We had gone but a little ways up the Mississippi when it began to rain, then snow, and from this turned to sleet. Long icicles hung from the hurricane deck, and to men who had been serving in the south, and had not made much preparation for the sudden change it became decidedly uncomfortable. When we got to Cairo Jan 1 1864, we found that a deep show had fallen, and that it blockaded /

the Illinois railroads, so we could not travel that way. By this time the mercury had fallen to 22 degrees below zero, and new and sharp ice was forming in the Ohio so rapidly that the officers of the steamer New Kentucky were unwilling to take us to Evansville, where we were told the railroad was free from snow. But the Colonel ordered them to proceed and under the military rule in force his word was law, and they reluctantly obeyed. Before we reached Mt. Vernon, they declared the ice was cutting the boat down, and destroying the wheels and that they could not proceed. This the pilot confirmed, and said no side-wheel steamer could run. So we landed at Mt. Vernon, the regiment disembarked and marched across a bend to Evansville, through the deep snow and intense cold. The small stern wheel steamer Idaho was pressed into the service, and took the sick and the arms and such baggage as the men did not carry to Evansville, where we all took rail, and were soon in Columbus. Mustering out regiments and mustering them in again as Veterans, was a new thing to the officers in charge at Ohio's capital, and it was a long time before a mustering officer with proper blanks could be procured. When the officer came, we found he had no experience, and all were anxious for instructions which he seemed unable to give. The officers of my company, after waiting until we grew impatient, took the blank forms, which were very complicated and quite new to us, and made up a muster-out, and a muster-in roll, and submitted it to the young Lieutenant of the regular army, and he carefully inspected it and pronounced it exactly right. Then he referred all other company officers to us for model rolls, and the work was in due time completed. The men who had been in camp some weeks waiting for this muster /

had become quite restless, but were rejoiced to get their pay and thirty days furlough and a start to their homes Jan. 26. Major Stevens had gone to Alton to spend his 30 days leave. The Provost Marshal General for Ohio, Col. Wilcox appointed Col. Mason recruiting officer for the regiment with an additional officer in each county that had contributed a company to it, to assist him. I was the recruiting officer for Washington county, and during the thirty days the men were on furlough, I recruited and had mustered in about two hundred men. The month was all too short for the gallant veterans who had been so long from their families and were loath to leave so soon. But like good soldiers as they were, they were promptly at the rendezvous, Camp Dennison, when the furloughs expired. Col. Wilcox had given us furloughs for the recruits, signed by him in blank to be filled and countersigned by the recruiting officers,—each to end the day the Veterans furloughs expired. So a man who enlisted as soon as we got home would get 28 or 29 days pay with leave to remain with his family, after he was mustered in, given a suit of military clothes, a months pay and $50 advance bounty. I also got each of my recruits $100 local bounty from the committee to clear the township from the draft, on crediting the recruit to their townships. Patriotism was the chief motive to enlist, but these inducements were quite useful aids in getting prompt action. I was surprised to find how many fine manly fellows had just arrived at the age of eighteen years, the age required by the U.S. for enlistment. We took their word for it. We left promptly for the front, with a good regiment, both as to numbers and material. The boys were proud of the good record it had made and the excellent reputation /

it bore and were going to the field full of bright hopes of adding to its laurels. As the Lieut. Colonel had not been with the regiment for nearly a year, a vacancy among the field officers was anticipated, and the line of officers very generally signed a recommendation that I be appointed to fill it. As a matter of fact, Lieut. Col. De Hass never rejoined the command, but circumstances did not bring about promotions for a year.

On reaching Little Rock March 19, 1864 we found Gen. Steele preparing to move to the southwest. He was under orders to cooperate with Gen. Banks, who was about starting on his Red River Expedition, and was to march via Camden and make a junction with Banks at Shreveport. We started March 23, he having about 15,000 men, and was to be joined by Gen. Thayer—who was coming down from the north, after a march of a day or two. In the absence of the other two field officers, Col. Mason desired that I go as a field officer on said expedition, and promised to provide me a horse as soon as the Quartermaster could furnish one. A captured horse was supplied in a few days but soon a citizen, who claimed to be loyal, came to headquarters for him and he was given up. I have never been convinced that the man was not a confederate, nor that he was the owner of the horse, but as the Quartermaster could not prove his statements not true, and the General was easily convinced, the order was given. Having passed Spoonville, where we had a small skirmish, and not finding Gen. Thayer we marched on to Okolona where we had a more important action. Here I took command of a battalion and went to the aid of Col. Kier of the 25^th Wisconsin, who was contending with two large a force. Col. Mason was still an invalid from his /

wounds, and only able to ride at the head of the regiment as it marched. Col. Keir not only had a force of infantry equal to his own in his front, but a rebel battery was pouring shot into his ranks, and he had fallen back to a safe position, where I joined him with my force, the reinforcement made him able, I thought, to take the battery, and I so suggested. He replied he had only been waiting till we came up to make the effort, and soon his bugler sounded the advance, whereupon the enemy fled and saved their battery.

We moved on to Little Missouri, where there was more fighting and the enemy retired before us. At Prairie de Ann we came up with them again, just at dusk, and a sharp fight ensued in the twilight. When it became too dark, the enemy retired across the small prairie, and we bivouacked in the woods till morning, expecting to renew the battle. We were informed by the scouts that the enemy had entrenchments on the west side of the prairie, and Gen. Steele formed his army in a double line of battle and marched across the prairie in a direction to strike their works in the flank instead of in front. When they saw this movement, they came out of their breastworks and changed front so as to meet us—meantime the batteries on both sides engaging in an artillery duel. We moved steadily forward, suffering but little loss as we were not yet fairly in rifle range, when the enemy suddenly abandoned the field, and beat a hearty retreat. I never in my life saw so pretty a military display as was made by our little army marching across the prairie in perfect order in battle array /

with banners flying and guns glistening in the morning sun. It is not certain which force was the largest, but the enemy did not feel like standing before us. Perhaps our batteries did more execution than theirs and demoralized them.

They took the road to Washington, Ark. probably thinking that was our objective point. But after following them and harassing them on their retreat we made a change and took the road to Camden. After a time, they discovered our new move, and tried to interrupt our progress, by an attack at Moscow. Here we first encountered Indians in battle, as one or two of the Indian regiments in the confederate service attacked us in the flank and rear. It is well known that the savages are much afraid of "big guns", and a few shots from our artillery soon sent them to the right about. On reaching Camden we found that the enemy had just evacuated the town. Although Gen. Thayer did not join us till we reached this place Gen. Price with all the forces of Gen. Fagan and Gen. Marmaduke would not give us battle. Dispatches from Gen. Kirby Smith, found in the telegraph office may account for this as Gen. Price was told that Gen. Banks was badly defeated, and many of his men prisoners, while his army was in full retreat down Red River, and Price was instructed to get to the north of Steele and prevent his escape till Kirby Smith's forces would join him, and aid to capture Steele's entire army. Possession of these telegrams put Steele on his guard and some fine generalship was displayed. When our army reached Camden, the troops were nearly starved as we had left Little Rock with half rations of bread and quarter rations of meat /

expecting to make a rapid march to Camden, where Gen. Powell Clayton was to supply us with rations by sending a provision train from Pine Bluffs. Thayer's failure to join us at the expected time and place, delayed us and our rations were entirely exhausted some time before we reached Camden. There we found foraging a poor reliance, as very little flour meal or meat could be found in the country through which we marched. The provision train was still later in getting in, it having to be driven ninety miles over bad roads, during the muddy spring season. I never saw men devour crackers and bacon with as much eagerness, before or since, except while a prisoner of war in the South. The supply would soon be exhausted, and our brigade was ordered to guard the empty train, consisting of two hundred and fifty wagons, back to Pine Bluffs. The roads out of Camden were all guarded by the enemy, but a pontoon bridge was laid across the Washita river and a new road cut through the woods, by which the train was started. It seems the enemy had information that it was going as an occurrence of the day it left will show. I was Division Officer of the Day, and was making the rounds of the pickets, when an orderly came to me at an outpost with an order relieving me of that duty and assigning me to the command of my regiment, to go on this march, Col. Mason being too ill to go with the escort. As I was riding hastily to Head Quarters, to report for this crew duty, a man in citizen's clothes rode along side of me for a few squares, telling me that he was a Union man desiring to escape to the north, and wishing to go with the train escort that was soon to start to Pine Bluffs, /

asking at what time it would leave. Being distrustful of him, I gave him no information, and told him if a train was to leave he would have to apply to Head Quarters for information as to time. He rode off, and I went to 77^th Head Quarters. He afterward made himself known to me, as a rebel soldier. As I was to go on a long march, in command of my regiment, I again made a requisition on the Quartermaster for a horse, which was approved by the Colonel, but I could get none, and was compelled to buy one to ride, as it would be impossible to go without being mounted. The first day's march my regiment guarded the head of the train, and the second day we were broken up into companies and placed between sections, guarding the center. The third day, April 25 I was ordered to remain in camp with my regiment until the entire train had pulled out, and then guard the rear. It was probably eight o'clock before we were able to see the last of the wagons on the march. Beside our long train there were dozens of farm wagons, filled with colored families following the train, availing themselves of this first opportunity of fleeing to the north. We had been notified, by prisoners taken, that Gen. Marmaduke's cavalry forces were along the road we were going but Col. Drake, who commanded the brigade, and the four pieces of artillery and a company of cavalry which guarded the train, did not seem to think there was much danger of an attack. At least, he gave me no orders that seemed to contemplate a fight, other than the usual flank attacks by bushwhackers. But the last of the train had not marched much over an hour when we began to hear rumors of a large /

force in our vicinity, and before ten o'clock reports of artillery could be heard toward the head of our column. I supposed our battery was shelling the woods, till an orderly came back saying Col. Drake wished me to come forward with dispatch, as a fight was probable. I asked if he ordered that I pass the train or bring it up as quickly as possible, and was told the latter was expected. I gave orders to the Quartermaster to instruct his wagon masters to move the train on double quick time, all of which was promptly done. Soon after this a Staff Officer Lieut. Eagler came from Col. Drake with an order for me to leave the train, and bring the regiment forward in all haste possible which order was promptly obeyed. The men were marched in double-quick time for about five miles, and came to Marks Mills almost out of breath. We found the enemy in some force, but both sides had ceased firing by this time. My first thought was that the greater part of the train, and the 36^th Iowa, 43^rd Indiana, the cavalry company, and a section of the Second Missouri Battery had made a junction with a body of Gen. Clayton's division from Pine Bluffs, and were safe, while we were cut off and would have to cut our way through. I had with me two pieces of the 2^nd Missouri Battery, and a small squad of cavalry, which had been scouting out a branch road and had rejoined us. Placing the battalion in a good position for a fight, with a line of skirmishers on each flank, I sent a detachment forward on the road leading into the woods where I knew the enemy was concealed. I told the officer in command to go forward till he was driven back. He had not gone many rods till a volley of musketry from Gen. Cabell's Brigade /

wounding several of his men, sent him back to the battalion. This move had drawn fire, and developed their position to be within easy range of guns of the 77^th regiment, where we were formed behind some logs that had fallen parallel with the enemy's line, making a natural breastworks. As our advance guard fell back to this position at Marks Mills, Cabell's brigade rose up as they had been lying concealed in the woods, and commenced firing on us. I ordered the battalion to return the fire, and commanded the Sergeant, who had charge of the section of the battery to open on them with grape or canister. He fired cold shot instead, which had no effect, while the infantry were delivering a galling fire into the confederates. I repeated my order to the artillery sergeant, and at this sent Adjutant Flemming to one side and Quartermaster Fisher to the other, to see if they were flanking us. The battery began to get ready for a movement to the rear, the sergeant saying he was going to a hill behind us, from which point he could do better execution, as the range was too short for artillery from the position he then occupied; to which I assented and he went. Soon the two mounted officers came galloping back and reported the enemy closing around both flanks, which made it necessary to fall back. I reluctantly gave the order to fall back to a little hill in the rear, where the battery had gone, and there about-face and give it a support. The line officers, not seeing the flank movement, at first could not understand why we were to leave a position from which we were delivering such an effective fire to the front, and were getting so little damage in return. But on having the situation pointed out, made the movement with alacrity. On reaching the eminence, only a few rods to our rear, we found no battery /

there, but we aligned ourselves on this little ridge, and poured such a volley into the advancing brigade as to cause them to waver, and fall back in some disorder, when their general exclaimed "My God! Are you going to let that little handful whip you?" Whereupon they closed up their ranks and moved nearer us. Meantime, we became aware that Gen. Dockery's brigade was charging across an open field on our right flank. The enemy consisted of nearly all the mounted men in the trans-Mississippi Department, under Gen. Fagan, and we had learned from a prisoner that there were 6000 of them. Cabell's brigade were fighting us in front dismounted, but here came another brigade mounted charging down upon our right. They made a splendid mark for our skirmishers, who were making every shot count, being themselves so protected by the timber and a fence that the enemy, for a time, believed we had been reinforced by Gen. Steele. It was not long till they became convinced that we had not and that we were nearly surrounded. Capt. M^cKittredge said to me that it was no use to fight longer, as we were doubtless surrounded, and many of the men were out of ammunition—our ammunition wagon having fallen into the enemy's hands. I ordered that men who had cartridges should divide, and we would make a change of position across a strip of woods to another road, which I then supposed our artillery had taken, not knowing that there was any force of the enemy on our left and rear. On nearing this road we found it lined with Gen. Shelby's brigade thus making a triangle of three brigades, and cutting off all chance of escape. Surrender was inevitable and Capt. McKittredge of the Staff, who had come up, said "Don't fire on us. We surrender!" I was so much engaged in the successful movement /

of the regiment to the new position I had chosen, that I had not observed the rear position of Shelby and in fact had not become quite sure the men we saw on that road dressed partly in blue, and partly in gray, were not some of our own soldiers and teamsters. I ordered our men to cease firing, as further resistance was useless, and would only have caused our slaughter by scores. Gen. Shelby demanded that we throw down our arms, and we found ourselves prisoners of war. He asked me who commanded our forces, and I replied Col. Drake. He said he did not mean the brigade, telling me Col. Drake and two regiments had been captured hours ago, but he wanted to know who commanded this last force they had been fighting. On being told I was in command, and that I had 300 men, he asked "Why did you fight us with such a small force? Did you know how many men we have?" I told him some prisoners we had taken told us they had six thousand. He asked: "Did you expect to whip 6000 with 300? Did you not deem it a useless loss of blood and life to resist us? You should have surrendered without a fight." I replied, "We would not know the result till we had made the effort. We want it understood that it is not an easy thing to take Union troops even if confronted by greater numbers. Besides, if surrender is necessary, we can get as good terms at the end of a fight as before." He asked if they had captured all of us, and I replied, "If you have taken the other two regiments you have." He said, "Well, you are a dear lot of prisoners. It has cost many lives to take you." He then told me I could keep my horse and ride along with the prisoners. This was an unlooked for concession, as captives were usually dismounted at once. We had not /

gone far when a rebel officer rode up to me and demanded my horse. I told him the officer to whom I surrendered said I could keep him and ride along with the prisoners on the march. He answered "Well, I am also an officer, and I say you can't, so get off." I did not tell him it was Gen. Shelby's order, or debate the matter of rank, as he had the arguments—two loaded revolvers—and I was disarmed. He got the horse. As I knew I could not keep him long and did not want exemption from fatigue, from which my comrades suffered, I did not feel much regret at the loss, as horses are well known to be contraband of war. But when a rebel cavalryman rode past me, as I walked along, and grabbed my hat, leaving in its place an old greasy white wool hat, that had a string tied around it for a band, and had been so often wet and stretched that it looked like a sugar loaf, I lost my patience, and under other circumstances would have entered a vigorous protest, to say the least. I found that I was only treated like the other prisoners for soon I noticed all were being robbed of money, and such valuables and clothing as the enemy fancied, which fact I reported to Col. Crockett, one of the officers commanding the guard, who were conducting us to the rear. He promised to have it stopped and it probably did cease as soon as all had been taken that his men cared to possess. John H. Brown of Co. B had not been robbed of his hat and he insisted on exchanging it for the one left on my head as he said it was a shame for our regimental commander to wear such a miserable tile.

Before starting on our long journey south I was asked to select several men to remain in the hospital, and take care of the wounded. In passing along the line to make the selection "old Whitey" was noticed, and gratitude for comrade Brown's favor, and his /

fitness for the place, caused him to be one of those selected. It probably saved his life, as he was not strong, and might have succumbed to the hardships of prison life. All the wounded men who recovered, and their nurse, were paroled and sent home in a few weeks, while we were held ten months.

The battle had ended by two o'clock, but it was near sunset when we started on our long march. We had not been allowed any rations since morning, and were marched all night, and until nine the next day, about fifty miles, without being allowed to stop to eat or sleep. It was a cruel thing to treat worn and hungry soldiers so, and Col. Hill, who had command of the guard, apologized to me for it, and showed me an order from Gen. Fagan to justify him. It read about as follows: You will march the prisoners with all haste, not stopping for any purpose, till they are south of the Washita, lest we lose the fruits of our splendid victory. Fagan evidently thought there was danger that Gen. Steele would rescue us.

On this all-night tramp I marched with the boys, and when one gave out, secured a place for him in some wagon if possible. After midnight such requests were generally refused, with the answer that they were all full. This seemed incredible, as the captured train if with us, had large capacity, but it was too dark to know whether it was, or not. Much of it may have gone some other direction. Towards morning, finding that no more could be done for the men, I asked—almost demanded—that I be given a place in some wagon. The Major in command of the rear guard endeavored to find me a place but the many he hailed responded that they were full. At last, a light wagon with a weak team captured from some of the colored people, and in which only a lot of muskets /

picked up on the battle field was being hauled, drove up. The driver said he could not possibly haul a man, as his load was all the team could pull. I did not wait for his permission, but climbed in at once, as did a lame comrade near me. We refused to get out but told him when he came to a hill, where his team could not pull us, we would get out and walk up the hill. The Major sanctioned this, telling him I was the Colonel who commanded the last regiment captured, and that I was exhausted. We never got out till we reached the river, at the end of the march.

After daylight we got to quickly examining the arms with which he was loaded. A lot of old bed quilts had been thrown over the guns, and we pulled some of them over us, to protect us from the dew and cold. They so obscured us from the sight of the driver that my comrade, who happened to have a military screw-driver in his pocket was able to draw out the screws and drop the hammers through the bottom of the wagon, thus rendering the muskets unusable. I got up on the driver's seat with the driver, after the sun warmed the atmosphere, and got him interested in conversation, and so kept his attention till the work was completed. I also enlisted his sympathies for starving men toward the last, so that he divided his cornbread and raw bacon with us. After we had been in camp some time one of the men who had helped bury the dead on the battlefield of Marks Mills reported that the Quartermaster said he had buried two hundred and eighty of their men, and that "more than half of these were killed by the last regiment they took". An officer remarked that their losses in killed and wounded, in the last two hours fight, were about equal to the whole number of our regiment. /

This accounts for Gen. Shelby's remark that we "were a dear lot of prisoners". It was fortunate for Gen. Steele that our brigade and the 250 empty wagons were deemed a prize worthy of sending all the mounted men Gen. Price had forty five miles from Camden, to make the capture. Price believed he had all points so guarded by his infantry and artillery that Steele could not get out of Camden in the absence of his cavalry, and while Kirby Smith was coming to aid in capturing Steele's and Thayer's united forces. But Steele's title of "The Fox" was not a misnomer, as the results of his strategy show. He laid another pontoon bridge, cut another road through the dense woods across the river, destroyed what he could not take along, muffled the wheels of his artillery, and was well on his way toward Little Rock, by the way of Jenkins' Ferry, before Price knew he had left. To better deceive the enemy,. he had left his pickets on their posts, with instructions to keep their watch fires burning. Of course the pickets were captured, but Steele held that it was better to have them (and perhaps our brigade) made prisoners than that all his army should be taken.

When Price found Steele had escaped him, he wrote a dispatch and started it to Gen. Fagan, by a trusted carrier, with orders to make all possible speed in delivering it. The dispatch carrier was captured by some of our cavalry, who had escaped from Marks Mills, and taken to Gen. Steele about the time he got fairly out of Camden. He at once changed the name Jenkins' /

Ferry to Arkadelphia, took the confederate carrier's clothes and putting them on a gallant Union soldier, sent him with the changed dispatch to Gen. Fagan. He lost no time in delivering it, and telling Fagan that he was ordered by Gen. Price to get a receipt for it, and report back to him at once; he was allowed to leave. This completely misled Fagan, and as it took him far out of the way, Steele was able to reach Jenkins' Ferry without obstruction. But while he was getting his army across the Saline river, April 30, Price with his whole army and equipment came up and a severe engagement ensued. Steele's position was such that the confederates could not use their superior numbers to advantage, and the Union forces gained a decided victory—punishing the enemy so severely that they retreated south, and Steele reached Little Rock without further trouble.

The prisoners taken at Marks Mills, meantime, had reached Camden, and when some of the retiring rebels got there we heard one of their officers tell the officer in charge of us who asked the result of the fight "It is another Helena affair". As Steele had whipped them soundly at Helena this comparison gave us much comfort for, while they would not tell us any news that indicated Union success, we could judge the result by this remark. We were started at once for Camp Ford, near Tyler Texas and about twelve hundred of Steele's men reached there early in May—marching on foot all the way. My chills and fever returned after marching in the rain, and when we got to Red River I was again a passenger in one of their wagons. I asked the driver to /

take me to a hospital, but he said he had no authority. The officer commanding the guard was at the head of the column and we were in the rear, so he could not be seen. As we were passing through the city I prevailed on the driver to go past the hospital, so I could get some medicine as it was only two squares out of the line of march. I sent for the surgeon to come out, gave him my name and rank and asked him to take me to the hospital, which he did, telling the driver he could "report that Surgeon Walker took him". I found he was a brother to Gen. Walker of Texas, and a very genial gentleman. He treated me well for about two weeks, broke up my chills, and then I was sent to Camp Ford with another lot of prisoners going South.

On the first day's march, I said to Major Good who commanded our guards "There is one man in your service I would like to meet. He was very kind to me when I was a prisoner of war, in 1862 and I shall never forget it." He asked his name and I replied "Dr. George W. Lawrence, of Hot Springs Arkansas, the Medical Director of Hardee's Corps." "Why he is now stationed at Marshall Texas near which we will stop tonight" he answered. I was glad to hear it and asked permission to see him, which he promised.

When we bivouacked near town, I reminded him of his promise and he at once said "Why certainly, I will send a guard up to town with you." I thanked him but said a guard was not necessary. All I wanted was his permission to go. "Are you not afraid to go alone?" he asked. "Not at all" I replied, when he expressed surprise but said "I will give you a pass" and at once wrote me one, which I /

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On leaving Camden, the Surgeon gave me a half pint flask partly filled with quinine telling me there would be no Surgeon with us and as many of the prisoners had chills, it would be needed, at the same time showing me how much to give for a dose. I had been carrying a bottle just like it filled with fine table salt, out of which our cook had been seasoning our cornbread. When the quinine was given me I took the salt out of my overcoat pocket and handed it to a comrade to carry, and the quinine bottle was put in its place. The next night when we camped, my overcoat was thrown on the ground, and the mess cook went to it for his usual seasoning. When our meal was ready, the men began making wry faces, and I tasted the mush into which he had made it, and found it bitter as gall. I asked him what he had put in it and he replied, "Nothing but salt and water." "Where did you get the salt?" I asked. "In your overcoat pocket" he replied. He had used the quinine for salt. But, as it was all we had, we were compelled to eat it or starve, and it was eaten. Whether it broke up the chills for any I am unable to say.

put in my pocket but never showed as I had no occasion. the people I met not only looking with astonishment to see an officer of the Union army, wearing his uniform on the street of Marshall, but I was not molested. On arriving at the Doctor's office, a polite colored boy manifested much pleasure at seeing me and as the Doctor was at tea, handed me a card, on which I was asked to write my name, when he would take it to him. I wrote "Capt. A. W. M^cCormick, who gratefully remembers the kindness of Dr. Lawrence when he was a wounded prisoner of war two years ago, would be glad to see him at his office." Without waiting to finish his meal the Doctor hastened to the office, gave me a cordial greeting, asking what he could do for me. I told him I asked nothing but called to see him as a valued personal friend, and to again thank him for the many acts of kindness bestowed upon me in 1862. He had given me several gold pieces at that time as he said the US Treasury notes, or greenbacks, I had when captured at Shiloh would be of no use in the confederacy, and he now asked if I had money, and offered to supply my wants if not. I thanked him but declined to accept his generous offer, telling him I had a fair supply of US currency which at that time, May of 1864, was worth five times as much as confederate bills inside of their own lines and soon passed for ten to one. After partaking of refreshments he provided, though I had my supply of army rations before I left camp, I left him, he giving me the assurance that if I, at any time, needed anything during my captivity, he would be glad to aid me. His first remark /

on meeting him was "Well, well, you here, and a prisoner again? Did I not tell you at Corinth, that when you got into your lines you ought to leave the service? that your wound entitle you to a discharge?" "I know you did" I replied, "but you will remember I told you I would remain in the service while the war lasted" and he replied "I believe you did." He added laughingly, that as I would continue to fight them, he was glad to see me a prisoner again. I replied "It is one of the fortunes of war. It is my lot now—it may be yours in a month or two", to which he assented.

Our hundred mile march from Shreveport was soon accomplished and I found myself at Camp Ford, with my comrades. It was an open field of perhaps six acres, with a stockade around it made of logs about twelve feet long, split in two, and set firmly in the ground, with the flat side in. There were then but two or three trees in the enclosure, which would afford poor shade to protect nearly 3000 prisoners from a burning southern sun. Some of the commissioned officers had obtained permission to go out to the woods under guard and cut and bring in poles or small logs and had built cabins, which the historian Col. A.J.H. Duganne of the 165^th NYork Vols designated as "Our real estate". The enlisted men were not so fortunate, but got permission to go out, in small squads strongly guarded, to cut and bring in brush to make huts, and poles and forks to hold it up, while some, as the weather got cold dug caves in the hillside, and used the brush to protect them /

from the winds.

The rations given us was a pound of beef and a pint of cornmeal per day, to each man, the meal being ground as if to feed cattle not sifted, and very little salt furnished to cook it with. The quantity was so small that it would barely sustain life, and extreme care was taken to make an even division. When one became so sick as to be unable to eat, or died, there was quite a contest as to who should have the meat and meal he left. No clothing or blankets were furnished us all summer, and the prospect of remaining there during the fall and winter was not pleasant. Capt. J. H. Reed of the 1^st Missouri cavalry managed to escape, but was soon run down by blood hounds and recaptured. To punish him for attempting to gain his liberty he was made to stand for hours on a large stump, in the hot sun, bare headed and without shoes—enough to blister his feet and scorch his brain. The wonder is that he did not become prostrated with sunstroke. But he was a man of good physique, and was able to live through it, and on being exchanged was promoted to Colonel and commanded his regiment till the war closed.

About the time Capt. Reed was so cruelly treated an order was made by Col. Border, commanding the prison guards, and posted up in the stockade, saying: "Prisoners escaping hereafter are not to be taken alive, but are to be shot at once when overtaken."

A few days after this brutal order was put out, about the middle of August, six others and I made our escape by digging the earth away and pulling the timbers apart. A friendly guard who claimed /

to be a Union man, and no doubt was, had agreed to not fire on us or raise the alarm when he should find us escaping. It was agreed that I should lead, and the others Lieutenant Smithson, Scott and Flemming of the 77^th Ohio, Lieut. Thompson of the 36^th Iowa, and comrades Matson and Creigh 120^th Ohio, were to follow, not speaking a word above a whisper but in all things doing as I did. As I passed the guard he said in a loud whisper: "Stoop low". I did so, and all six followed my example, until we got down into a ravine so our heads could not be seen against the sky light. After crossing the ravine, we walked erect, and, if seen were doubtless taken for rebel guards just relieved, going to Col. Sweet's camp. Soon we were out of rifle range, and about to enter the woods north of the stockade, when a squad of rebel cavalry came dashing along, separating Lieuts. Smithson and Scott, who were in the rear from the five who had crossed the road. We waited a while, and made signals, hoping they would rejoin us, but they failed to find us, and we marched on in the dark, taking the north star for our guide. By morning we had reached the bank of the Sabine river, where we found a secluded spot, and lay down in the woods and slept during the day—one remaining awake at a time as a sentinel. About sunset we concluded to swim the river to be ready to again march as soon as it was dark. To our dismay we found that Lieut. Thompson could not swim, and yet he implored us to not go on and leave him. We reminded him that all knew we would have the Sabine, the Red River, the Washita and the Saline to cross before we reached Little Rock, and that he should not have joined our party without telling us he could not swim. He admitted it but pleaded that /

he was so anxious to get home, and so much afraid we would not take him along if he told, that he dared not do it. We sympathized with him and could not leave him. So we searched till we found a small dry log, carried it to the river, divested ourselves of clothing which he took in his arms, and then we launched the log in the river. Thompson sat astride of it, and Flemming and I the most expert swimmers, pushed it across. We all breathed easier when we were safely over, and hastily dressing, made our way into the swamp till it became dark enough to march. For several nights we made our way through the woods and along by roads, sleeping daytime as before. One morning, near daylight, we found we were passing a plantation and that at the foot of a long lane that led back from the road to the planter's house, stood some cabins in which his colored field hands dwelt. They had a large number of watchful dogs who began to bark before we saw the cabins. It was then too late to change our course, and I decided we might as well march boldly past, and take the risk of being discovered by our enemies. Our custom was for me to march about fifty paces in front of the other four to enable me to hear if a scouting party were coming toward us, and if so to halt in time to quickly warn my comrades, and then conceal ourselves till the enemy had passed. Those canines kept up a chorus of excited barking till I had passed, and became more demonstrative as each of the other four came by. One large savage brute acted as if he would seize Adjutant Flemming by the throat, when he, the smallest of our number came near him. A small colored boy called him off, and after a time got him away; but not till /

the noise had aroused the planter. We passed on but the planter questioned the boy closely as to who had passed, and how many there were of us, how dressed, and which way we were traveling. He replied "I don't know massa, about fifty I 'spect all dressed in dark clothes, and going north." His count was not correct, but he had told enough to cause the planter to say "No doubt a lot of Yankee prisoners escaping from Camp Ford. It will be a job for Capt. Montgomery in the morning." This "Captain" was located at Gilmore, near which town it turned out we then were. He had command of a pack of blood hounds and a corporal's guard of rebel cavalry, and it was his business to run down and recapture or kill escaping prisoners. We found a place of concealment, and lay down. In the morning the planter reported to his captain what he had heard, and added that he had found our tracks in the sand, that he thought there were five Yankees in the party and that one track showed a foot so small and neat that it looked like a woman's. This was Lieut. Flemming's track, and anyone who sees his foot would not wonder at the Texan's remark. Soon we heard the distant bay of blood-hounds and the sound indicated that they were on our track and drawing nearer and nearer. We baffled the savage brutes for some time by traveling around in circles, and then making a long jump to one side, so they ran around the circle until they were well nigh exhausted, as the day was hot and they could find no water in the piece of woodland in which we were concealed. It was surrounded on all sides by open fields, and the mounted rebels were by this time posted all around us, and we had no means of escape. In time, the leader of the pack struck our last trail and was /

so close we were compelled to take to the trees. The peculiar howl he set up notified his master of the situation, and the Captain shouted to his men: "Close up there, boys, we have got them treed!" As they were getting quite near, though they could not see us for the dense foliage, we concluded to open parley with them, lest they fire into the woods at random. I called out: "Who are you after?" and the reply was "You all". "Then why don't you come and get us?" I asked. "Now gentlemen" he replied "come down and surrender, and you shall not be hurt. We will trust you like gentlemen."

Remembering the inhumane order of Col. Border, that prisoners escaping and overtaken should be shot down at sight, we thought he offered better terms than we could have expected, and I, as the spokesman of the party answered: "Well, call off your dogs and we will."

These men use an ox horn, fashioned as a bugle, to guide the movements of their blood-hounds, and on sounding the recall on this rude instrument, all the hounds but the one fierce brute, that ran us to cover, obeyed. But he seemed loath to leave without tasting the blood of his human game. Even the voice of his master, calling him in tones of authority to come away was insufficient to move him, but his fury became somewhat abated. As the Captain was now quite near, though not yet in sight, we concluded to all come down at once, and keep our eyes on the hound, making common defense if attacked, and risk the protection promised by the rebel leader. It is well known that a vicious animal does not like to attack a man while he looks him in the eye, and we found it so in this case, and reached the guards without injury, though the brute made many savage lunges at us, only to recoil. /

"When did you leave Camp Ford?" asked the Captain.

"What makes you think we are from Camp Ford?" said I, Yankee-like answering a question by asking another. Being dressed in gray and butternut clothes, for which we had exchanged with the prison guards, we might readily have been mistaken for southerners. But his experienced eye could not be deceived, and he gave reasons for his beliefs, and we admitted we were Union officers and soldiers trying to escape from the stockade. "What made you make the attempt? Did you not know that the country between Camp Ford and the Yankee lines is full of confederate soldiers and blood-hounds, and that escape is impossible?" "We had heard" I replied, "but as rumors of exchange had proved false, and cold weather is approaching with no blankets, but scant clothing, and little to eat, we thought it worth making the attempt."

"Well," he said, "it is your privilege to attempt escape and ours to recapture you. I admit, with the view you have of the situation, it is not strange you tried to get away."

"Now Captain," I said, "as we have had little to eat for some days, be good enough to take us where we can get something."

We had started with but a pocketful of hard bread each and a few pounds of dried beef, and these became exhausted in the first two or three days. We had not dared to even approach a colored man, though they were always found friendly to Union soldiers, and willing to feed them (so fearful were we of recapture) until we should get farther north. We had found a few berries and grapes, but these were hardly substantial enough to support hungry men on a long march. /

He promised to supply us and marched us to the town of Gilmer, which we reached about noon.

Here we were halted in front of the Court House, and left under guard. Soon a small squad of Union soldiers, recaptured by Capt. Smith and his pack of blood-hounds, were brought to the same place, and put with us. They were as hungry as we, and also pleading for rations. Still none came. We have often heard soldiers complain of red tape, meaning the necessary requisitions for rations, fuel or forage, with the required approval of post commanders or other officers before they would be issued. But we felt, hungry as we were, that it was rather cruel to put in force that circumlocution called "how not to do it" in our case. It was about sunset when anything came, and then came only a small quantity of raw pork and cornmeal. The bacon we eagerly ate without cooking, but with no utensils, salt or water, we were unable to use the meal. Just here the humanity of the Postmaster's wife afforded us relief, as she sent us cornbread in exchange for our meal.

The Major who commanded the post said we would be started back to Camp Ford in the morning, but I entered an earnest plea on behalf of the Adjutant, who having never marched so far on foot was suffering severely with blistered feet. I added that I asked nothing for myself or others, as we could stand it, and promised that we would make no attempt to escape if left there a few days. He finally consented, adding that we well knew escape was impossible, and we were quartered in the Court House and left under guard.

Soon after our arrival a large number of citizens gathered around us, to ask questions, and berate us for invading the South. I did about all the talking for the prisoners, and when impertinent questions were asked /

or false assertions made, was not very prudent in my replies. We were charged with belonging to Gen. A. J. Smith's command, and told he burned houses and robbed citizens on the Red River campaign, which would deprive his soldiers of the usual treatment given prisoners of war. I told them we were of Gen. Steele's army, and were not on the Red River Expedition, when they made like charges against Gen. Steele and his men. I replied to this that I knew Steele's men never so behaved, and did not believe the charge against Gen. Smith. The most bitter of them I took to be home guard, who had never been to the front. He wanted to know why we stirred up the slaves to insurrection, and organized colored regiments. I denied that slaves had been incited to insurrection and said no instance could be given where they had ill-treated the women and children with whom they had been left while the white men from the plantations on which they labored had gone into the rebel army to keep them in slavery, on the other hand they had labored diligently in producing bread and meat to submit to the armies that were fighting against their freedom. As to arming the negroes, the South would have done it if it dared, in fact it had armed the first colored battalion raised during the war, but so much had been said by the rebels about this being "a war to free the negroes" that their slaves had heard and learned to believe it, and they were afraid to longer trust them in arms and had disbanded it. Quite a number of colored men had come up and were standing in the skirts of the crowd around us, and they seemed immensely pleased at my replies. He became furious and said this was "treason to the state of Texas" and that I would be hanged if I did not stop such talk. I told him I did not owe /

allegiance to Texas, and could not commit treason to it. He called some of his associates aside and they talked in an excited manner, at a distance too great for the words to be heard by us, but one of them soon came to me and told me I would have to stop so talking at once, as those men would hang me. The leader came back and began his threats again when I said: "You talk very bravely to an unarmed prisoner. What battles were you ever in? I doubt whether you ever saw a Yankee in arms. Where do you bury your dead, anyhow?" His anger, at this knew no bounds and seemed to be increased by the guards, who were evidently real soldiers, joining in a general laugh at his expense. I told him that what I had said was but the truth, and that the first colored battalion was armed by the rebels in New Orleans, early in the war and to "ask the Lieutenant, he is an intelligent man, and he will confirm it." The Lieutenant commanding the guard said he believed I was correct. I told the excited man that he did not dare to hang me, that I was a prisoner of war, and entitled to be treated as such. That if they would hang me, or any of us, Uncle Sam would hang a dozen for every one they would hang. That the Lieutenant and his men were soldiers and knew their duty too well to permit prisoners in their charge to be hanged. That if he did not like my answers, he need not ask me questions that would necessarily elicit such replies. The Lieutenant, at this, said we should not be molested, that if these men could not tolerate my kind of talk, they could go away and let me alone.

In a few days Lieut. Flemming was able to travel, and we were started for Camp Ford. On the way we halted one day in front of a plantation /

house, and the Lieutenant in charge left us out in the sun while he and all but one of the guards went in to dinner. They were a good while gone, and the heat was intense, and we persuaded our guard to take us on the porch, in the shade, as there was no other near. He readily complied, as he also was suffering much danger of sunstroke. The planter's wife asked the officer who were those outside, and he told her we were Yankee prisoners, re-captured and on the way back to Camp Ford. She jumped up at once, not waiting to finish her dinner, and gave us such a tongue-lashing as only a furious woman could give. She accused the Yankees of about all the crimes in the criminal calendar; and when I said, in a quiet tone, "Madam you have surely been misinformed, I have been in the army for years, and with Gen. Steele's command during the time you name, and I never knew or heard of such things being done as you attribute to his soldiers." "Then you dare to dispute my word, you hateful Yankee?" she almost screamed, and ordered us off the porch. The Lieutenant came out at this time and we resumed our journey, leaving her to get over her angry fit at her leisure. In a few days we reached the stockade, and were taken to the Post Commander's Head Quarters. We were very glad to find that Col. Sweet, who had the reputation of being humane, had superseded Col. Border in command. He asked when we left Camp Ford, and how we could make our escape, remarking that he thought the guards quite vigilant. We assented to this but said we were quite careful and the night was dark. That we had taken great risks, being very desirous of getting away, and seeing no hope of exchange. He said the way to the north was so well guarded that we need not hope to get through, and asked if we did not find it so. I replied /

"It seems so—we found that Jordan is a hard road to travel." He did not talk of punishment for the attempt, but said: "How many men do you know in Camp Ford?" I replied "I know all of my regiment, the 77^th Ohio, about 300, and most of the 36^th Iowa and 43^rd Indiana with which we were brigaded some 575 more. He asked the others similar questions, and obtained like answers. The Colonel then said: "I am going to put you back into the stockade, and I want you to tell your friends that it is no use attempting to escape, that you have tried it and found Jordan a hard road to travel." We replied that we could truthfully tell them that, and were at once sent into the military prison.

Lieutenants Smithson and Scott had an experience somewhat different from ours. They got nearly to Red River, when they were discovered in the woods, and taken to a village, where they came near being lynched—being mistaken for some horse thieves with which that country was infested. As horse thieves were usually hanged to the first suitable limb, they were only too glad to say they were Yankee officers, escaping from Camp Ford. So in a week or two they were brought back, and held with us in the stockade.

In the fall of 1864, from the dust and smoke in the camp, my eyes became affected, by what was called "Texas sore eyes", and the surgeon took me out to the hospital for treatment, and so that I would be less exposed to others. The hospital, being outside, was guarded but soon the Surgeon got to know and trust me, and he took my /

word that I would not attempt to escape while under his care, and permitted me to roam through the woods at will. Lieut. H. H. Dye was also outside on the sick list and on parole, and we even went to Tyler once, four miles away. A plant known as "scurvy root" grew in the woods, and we spent many days hunting it, and taking handfuls of it into the stockade to our comrades suffering from the troublesome disease it was supposed to cure. They were very thankful to get it, and no other medicine for scurvy could be procured, and they said it relieved them very much but it seemed impossible for them to get rid of the disease while living on poor and scant rations, with no vegetables. We had better opportunity than those men, closely confined, to get news from the North, and learn the views of the confederates. We were gratified to learn from an intelligent officer that it was believed that the war would soon end. It was just before the Presidential election, and he gave out as a reason that if Mr. Lincoln should be re-elected it would be convincing evidence that the country sustained him in the prosecution of the war, and the South would abandon the conflict. If Gen. M^cClellan should be elected a compromise would be effected satisfactory to the South. We who had entered the army while Democrats could but understand that this latter alternative meant the recognition of the confederacy. The rebel officers had tried to create enmity to the government by constantly telling us the failure to exchange was the fault of President Lincoln and Secretary Stanton, as the confederates, they said, were always willing to exchange and our Government refused. We well knew it was Stanton's policy to hold the rebel /

prisoners, as their places could not be supplied. They then had boys of 14 and old men of 65 in their army, literally "robbing the cradle and the grave" to get soldiers. He held that it was the strong policy, as the Union army could be easily filled by new levies, while our enemy's could not. This is logical and if necessary would be justifiable, from a military standpoint, however hard on the Union prisoners, though it was not a humane course, considering the horrors of Andersonville, and other southern prisons.

To test the sentiment of the prisoners, the rebels proposed that we take a vote as to our choice for the Presidency. To their surprise, out of the three thousand inmates of Camp Ford, only about one hundred and fifty voted for M^cClellan, and the balance for Lincoln though when enrolled probably nearly one third were Democrats. It was a straw showing which way the wind was blowing, and a few days later the November gale from the North convinced them that their cause was hopeless. History shows that, although they fought some battles after the election they had entirely lost heart, and were only looking forward to "the beginning of the end", which the march to the sea disclosed. During the summer a small number of Union prisoners, those taken on the gulf coast about a year before, were sent home on parole, but we could see no sign that Steele's men were to go in the near future. As the fall grew cold, more escapes were made. Lieut. Province had got through to our regiment, and now Lieut. D. A. Henesy determined to try it. I would have gone with him but my health from effects of malaria and disease of eyes forbid. He got through, but was a mere skeleton when he reached Little Rock. An ingeniously written letter from Capt. M^cNaughton that "Lieut. Province and Henesy were loafing around camp as usual" told us of their arrival without the enemy, who read the letters coming to us, knowing they were escaped prisoners. /

This news stimulated others to make their escape, among them Lieuts. Flemming, Fulton and Atkinson of the 77^th Ohio, but the weather was bad, and streams so swollen, beside other hindrances, that few reached our lines. At last, the long looked for order for our parole came, about Feb. 20, 1865. Such joy in Camp Ford had not been witnessed during our confinement there. It was evident from its sweeping character, that a general exchange had been agreed upon, and many of us took it as a sign that the war would soon end. Many of the less hopeful had only been kept alive by the efforts of others to convince them this good news would soon come. Having been a prisoner before, and then released after scores of disappointments, I labored diligently to show them that the early parole was probable and to keep up their spirits, reminding them that "the darkest hour is just before day".

When the rumor reached the stockade, I was out at the hospital; and while many eagerly grasped at anything that looked like coming liberty, hundreds would not believe it till I passed in the gate and told them that I had seen the rolls in the hands of the paroling officer, with the names of Steele's men all written thereon, and that he had assured me we would start for New Orleans as soon as we could sign these parole papers—perhaps next day. Then a shout went up from the throats of thousands of half starved men such as one would have thought them unable to give. Men who had not walked for weeks were soon on their feet and showing signs of recovering strength. As the ranking officer of these to be exchanged, I was given the privilege of designating which of the sick men should go along, and I made the round of those sick in hospital and in camp and imparted the information, adding that I intended all to go who could walk. /

I told them we had to march on foot a hundred miles, to Shreveport, where we would take steamboats to our lines. It was astonishing how the poor hollow-eyed skeletons, who were slowly sinking to their graves before this news came, revived under its cheering influence. All except a few of those really about to die expressed themselves able to make the march. Many of these men, so eager for liberty, I felt sure could not march all the way, but as my word assured their liberty, I had not the heart to leave any who said they could march. So they signed the rolls with the rest of us, and we started many of them leaning on more vigorous comrades for support, before they were out of sight of the stockade where they had starved for nearly ten months. We had not gone many miles till several of the weakest gave out, but I managed to get them into the few ambulances and wagons our guards had with us. The officer in charge said they ought not to have started, but I told him they were so anxious to go, and looked so bright at the chance to gain their liberty, that I had perhaps allowed some to sign and start who were really unfit. However, as they were on the way, I hoped he would send none back, but aid them on the way. He was a good-natured man, with feelings of humanity, and let me have my way. When we reached the Sabine river we found it out of its banks, the water covering the broad bottoms to a great distance on the south side. Here we halted, as I feared for an indefinite period, as the river was sluggish with little fall, through that nearly level country, and the ground, covered with thick timber and fallen leaves, was saturated with water. So we could see little hope of its early fall. I said: "Major, what do you expect to do? It will be a long time before the river falls." "Yes, that is so, " he replied "but /

I see no way to get across." I feared he would march us back to the stockade, as our rations would be exhausted before the river would fall so the little ferry boat used to carry occasional travelers across the channel, could get us over. He seemed to have no plan, and to be simply waiting.

"Will you allow us to provide a way, Major, and get ourselves across?" I asked. "Certainly" he replied "if you can do so. How would you go about it?" "Have you any axes on the train?" I asked.

"A few" he replied "What use can you make of them?"

"With your permission we will cut down some of these trees, and have them so fall as to make foot logs over which the men can cross."

So with the axes the guards had, and such as we could borrow from some farm houses a mile or two back, we soon managed to make a temporary bridge, and move all across. The fear that we would be taken back to the gloomy quarters we had left, made the men work with alacrity. There was a general rejoicing when we found ourselves on the north side of the river, and again on the march to "God's country," as the prisoners were in the habit of calling it.

People often have to do things in emergencies that they would never have thought of if necessity did not compel them.

As we marched on, we were not strictly guarded—hardly guarded at all, as we had signed parole papers, and manifested such eagerness to get to our lines. Many times half of us would be out of sight of the guards, and often when we would meet men in gray traveling alone, or in small squads, we would learn that they had been in Gen. Dick Taylor's command, but have taken "French leave" or of Kirby Smith's command and that "the confederacy is played out". As this was about five weeks before the fall of Richmond, and /

the collapse of the rebellion at Appomattox was not two months off it is evident they had seen the "hand-writing on the wall," but it was cheering news to us who had not heard of the efforts of the great fall campaign or the situation in the Carolinas and near Richmond.

When we got to Shreveport, we learned that Lieuts. Flemming, Fulton and Atkinson had been recaptured, and were in a prison in that city. I asked that they be allowed to sign the parole sheets and be released with us. The officer in charge said he had no power to permit this as the paroling officer had gone elsewhere. That the only man who could allow it was Col. Sagmanski, the Confederate Commissioner of Exchange, who could not be seen till we would get to Red River Landing, at the mouth of the river, where we would be delivered into our lines.

A fleet of steamers large enough to carry all of us was waiting and soon as the prisoners, with necessary rations could be got on board we started. I was asked how many sacks of cornmeal and how many barrels of corned beef we wanted to reach our lines. My reply was that we wanted full army rations. The number of bushels of meal and the number of pounds of beef they wanted us to take was then named, but I demurred, telling the officer we would expect about one third more—which would make full rations. I was then quite familiar with the amount the regulations called for, and they knew I had not exceeded the limit, and the officer supplied all I asked. I well knew that if they were allowed all they could eat of these inferior rations they would be less likely to injure themselves by over eating when given a full supply of the best the U.S. afforded on reaching our lines, as I had seen men do /

when paroled in 1862.

When we reached the mouth of Red River I was introduced to Col. Dwight, the U.S. Commissioner of Exchange, and asked him to secure the release of my brother officers who were held at Shreveport. He saw the rebel Commissioner, without success, and then offered to introduce me to him that I might plead their cause. I gladly embraced the opportunity and did my best on their behalf but all to no purpose. He stubbornly refused to parole them, though he admitted that the order included all our brigade—saying these men had forfeited their right to parole by an attempt to escape through the lines. They were held till May. On arriving at New Orleans the men were placed in parole camp, until they could be paid, clothed and given the usual thirty days furlough. As none of them had been paid for a year, they had no money, and as they had been deprived of their liberty so long, there was little danger they would misbehave if permitted out of camp. So when Col. Kilborn who was in command, gave me permission to pass out all I wished, holding me responsible for their good conduct, I announced the fact in camp, and told Company Commanders they could write passes for all for whom they could vouch, and I would countersign them, the guards all through the city being instructed to respect all passes that bore my signature. The men enjoyed their new-found liberty immensely, and did not abuse it. The Provost Guards said they were the most orderly soldiers they had seen in New Orleans. Soon they were paid, clothed in new uniforms, and on their way up the great Mississippi, by the usual mode of travel at that time, one of her magnificent steamers—their furloughs to take effect the day they reached Cairo. I declined a leave of absence, and got an order from Gen. Hurlbut commanding, to take such of the men as did not wish furloughs, by reason of the near expiration of their term, and /

report to the regiment, which I found had been transferred with Gen. Steele, in January, from Little Rock to the Gulf, and was now at Fort Morgan Ala. My time had expired, and I preferred to see the balance of the regiment, and be mustered out at its headquarters before going home to a thirty days leave and then a muster out at my state capital, as all other officers whose terms had expired were given. The meeting with the men of the 77^th who were not captured was very pleasant, and as much enjoyed by them it appeared, as by us.

I was mustered out at Fort Gaines Ala., March 12, 1865 and was just ready to start home, when I learned Gen. Gordon Granger's army, of which my old regiment was a part, had marching orders, to move on Mobile. Much as I desired to see my family, from whom I had been away for more than a year, without having been able to receive a letter from them till I got to New Orleans, I still wished to go on the expedition. I had gone up Mobile Bay, on a war vessel, reconnoitering, with a number of army officers invited by the Admiral. It was quite an experience, feeling our way through waters said to be full of torpedoes placed there by the enemy to keep Farragut's fleet from Alabama's commercial metropolis, but none of them exploded near us. On our return I told Gen. Granger I had just come from Camp Ford, that my time had expired while a prisoner, that my regiment was not large enough for me to be mustered in, as it was not entitled to another field officer, and so I had been mustered out. But my regiment was going with him, and I offered my services as a Volunteer Aide, without pay, to help take Mobile. He thanked me for the offer, but gracefully declined it; saying he had plenty of officers, and believed there would be no fight; and besides he thought I owed it to myself and family to go home, after a ten months confinement as a prisoner of war. He was right, there was no resistance at Mobile, /

and very little anywhere else after that date; and as my services were no longer needed, I should be at home.

Wm. H. Fisher, who had been acting Adjutant, after Lieut. Flemming's capture, also mustered out, and started home with me. He carried an official envelope, addressed to the Adjutant General of Ohio, which I learned, on inquiry, was a list of recommendations for promotions, made by Col. W. E. Stevens, who came into command of the battalion in December when Col. Mason mustered out on expiration of term. I also learned that the men were not, in all cases, the ones entitled by rank and merit to the promotion but were men who had made themselves agreeable to the new Colonel while their superiors, who had endured the hardships of march, battle and prison life, were overlooked. I determined to inspect the list as soon as the Adjutant General should open the package, and got the promise of the bearer that I should be present, and we called together at the office. As I supposed, I found an injustice was to be done if the appointments were made as asked, and asked that no action be taken till I had seen the Governor in person, which was promised.

Having been introduced to Gov. Brough, by Senator Curtis, a gentleman who stood high with him, the Senator vouching for all I might say or ask in the matter, as worthy of his consideration—the Governor listened attentively and promised to make the appointments as I said they should be. He asked me to make up a list of those who deserved the promotions, and sign it, and he would see that commissions issued accordingly. I thanked him, made up the list and signed it, and got Lieut. Fisher to add his signature. On handing it in, I made a verbal request that Lieut. Fisher, who had been a faithful officer from October 1861 to March 1865 deserved the rank of Captain, as he was leaving the service, /

though his feeble health would not permit him to muster in. The request was complied with, as well as the one made in writing. The officers who thus got deserved promotion, which they attributed to my influence, have shown many tokens of gratitude for my intercession, and I cannot think any of those whose ambitions failed of gratification at the time can blame me for standing by the men who had suffered so much in the cause. /

On arriving home, I found my wife and daughter and three young sons overjoyed to find me come to stay. It had been a task to get away from my youngest boy, (born May 10, 1861) when at home on veteran leave in the spring of 1864. As I had gone into the army before he was old enough to know me, and had been away so much, it took the three year old child some time to really get acquainted, and when he had, and found he was a cherished little pet, he clung to me when told I was going away to the war again, saying: "Oh! Papa I cannot let you go!" Now, finding me in citizen's clothes, it took him some time to place me. But on opening my valise, and putting on my uniform (the only kind of dress he could remember me as ever wearing) he exclaimed: "I know you!" and ran to my arms with all his former marks of affection.

Before entering the service I had been reading law, as occasion permitted, under the instruction of Col. Alban. As the rules of the Supreme Court required two years consecutive reading before admission no matter how good an examination the law student passed, I at once resumed my studies, and was admitted to the bar in April 1867. Meantime I had been able to earn a living for my family by writing insurance, and collecting soldiers' claims. I had no idea of going into the Government claim business, at first, but so many of my old comrades, whose interests I had looked after while in the army, without pay of course came to me after discharged to get their pay, and pensions due them. This I could not refuse to do, but did not expect pay, or that it would take so much of my time. I soon found that, having filed some claims, the Reserve bureau called on me to take out a license as a Claims Agent, before I would be permitted to complete them, and be /

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recognized as the attorney of these comrades. I, at once, complied, and it becoming known, I was soon quite busy with such cases. In about a year the Additional bounty act passed, and clients under it came by hundreds, but unlike most men in the business, who are accused of taking all they can legally get if not more—I only charged half the legal fee, so tender was I with my comrades interests. I got over the half fee idea in time, and took contracts for the legal fee in pension and bounty cases, as I did in my law practice. But I have never taken a fee in excess of that authorized by law, though I have often had extra compensation in difficult cases offered and persistently pressed upon me by grateful clients who seemed to feel hurt that I would not "let them do as they please with their own", by final refusal to accept.

On my return home I was offered nomination for various offices by men who had the influence to secure them, but I declined saying I desired to attend strictly to my private business. In 1867 I was asked to make speeches for the Republican candidates, and consented to do so, at such points as I could reach by railroad or otherwise without being long away from my office. The Executive Committee readily agreed to this, and so arranged it. The issue was manhood suffrage, raised by the proposition submitted by the previous legislature to strike the word "white" out of the Ohio Constitution. This was at first unpopular in Southern Ohio, where so many Virginians had settled, and they and their descendants had retained their race prejudices. When the 14^th Amendment to the United States Constitution was submitted to the State Legislature, and by those of the South so generally rejected, I at once took grounds in favor of the Reconstruction measures proposed in Congress, by which all states recently in rebellion, should be held in a territorial condition subject to military or other rule provided by Congress, till this Amend- /

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ment should be adopted by them, meanwhile all male citizens over 21 years, without regard to color, should vote. Some of my intimate friends, who knew me as a conservative Republican, were surprised to find me on this advanced ground. They supposed that my old prejudice of color, which they knew me to have while a Democrat before the war, still remained, and that I would be found agreeing with that class of the Republican party who thought we had done quite enough for the colored people to give them their freedom, without permitting them to vote. On being so told by some of those, I told them I admitted having felt such prejudices, and that it was difficult to overcome them. But that, in principle, they had as good a right to vote as we. That adherence to prejudice against principle, was unworthy of a reasoning man, who knew what was right and yet rejected it. It was found, after a few speeches had been made, that this kind of reasoning was effective, and the canvas turned almost solely on this issue. The county being very close—so evenly divided that Col. Mason and Col. Anderson ran a tie for treasurer, the candidates insisted that I permit the committee to make many more appointments for me to speak. I had become greatly interested in the matter and consented—and they gave me as many appointments as I could fill till the day of election, much of the time speaking day and night, sometimes three speeches a day.

In the fall of 1868, Washington County gave me its entire vote for Congress, in the 15^th District Convention, on the first ballot, and I had enough votes from Meigs and Monroe counties to show that next ballot I would be nominated, if my own county remained true. It probably would have done so but for the ambition of one of the delegates, to be the district Elector on the Grant Electoral ticket. He and a few of his more personal friends voted for Hon. E. H. Moore, of Athens for Congress, with the understanding that the Athens /

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delegation would support Capt. Barber for election. Moore and Barber were nominated and elected, and, probable fortunate for me, I escaped going to Congress and becoming a chronic politician. In the summer of 1869 my many friends proposed that I accept the nomination for Judge of the Probate Court, saying Judge Chamberlain had held the office two terms, as long as anyone had ever held it, and that he had said he would not be a candidate. This being in the line of my profession and a branch of the law, in which the experience of six years in the office would be valuable, I consented. The Judge changed his mind before the delegates were chosen, and announced himself as a candidate, not only willing but anxious for a third term. I had two votes to his one, however, and of course, the nomination. The Democrats nominate against me Dudley Nye, a Democratic member of a large and highly respectable Republican family whose relatives, if they would all vote for him would be about enough to turn the scale in this close county. Then he was an excellent solicitor of votes for himself, as a personal favor—something I could not bring myself to do. In the canvas I made speeches for the cause and the ticket and let my own interests take care of themselves. It was what is called "an off year", that following a Presidential election in which the Administration party often suffers by the apathy of those not well pleased in the disposition of the Federal offices. This made the contest close, but my election was by a majority of which I might well feel proud, under the circumstances.

The Probate Court is often called the people's tribunal. It is one where Administrators and Guardians, appointed by the Court, can be put to much or little trouble in the discharge of their duties. If the Judge so wills, he can accommodate them very /

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much in the matter of giving bonds, making settlements, and in administering their trusts generally. Where an estate is small, it can almost be consumed by costs and legal services, if a lawyer is employed at every turn. Or by a word of direction by the Judge given where no such expenditure is necessary, this may be saved. It is always well when much is involved and intricate legal work to be done, to employ a good lawyer, and I always so advised these officers of the Court. My administration of the office seemed to please the people, as many expressions of approval were made by political opponents with the voluntary offer of support should I again be a candidate, for which I could do no less than thank them.

At the end of three years I was re-nominated without opposition and had as my opponent the same gentleman, who renewed his personal solicitation with more vigor than in the first contest; in fact he spent almost the whole campaign in this work for himself, while owing to the defection of several Republican speakers together with many other voters in the county I was kept extremely busy addressing great meetings. In fact part of the time Gen. Dawes, Judge Sibley and I had to do work usually done by six or eight speakers. I could give no time to a canvas among personal friends for votes for myself, had I been so disposed. The Greedy "liberal Republicans" defection made the county close, so it was dangerous to a candidate to have much cutting at his expense. Still, Mr. Nye was not allowed to carry on his personal solicitations unmolested. He made a merit of this with the voter that he was not above asking for his support, while the incumbent seemed to be, as he did not approach them. This often takes with the approachable, and perhaps did in this case. Meanwhile a bright young clerk in the office had kept a fairly complete list of political opponents throughout the different /

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townships who had expressed an intention voluntarily, when calling, to vote for my re-election. Getting a sufficient number of full Democratic tickets, with margin enough to write in a name he ran his pen through the name of my opponent and wrote mine below, then mailed a few to these men, with a short letter reminding them of their offer, and telling them the favor would be appreciated by the Judge, "only this and nothing more". When the polls closed, a gentleman who had been industriously helping him, and who, rumor had it was to be his chief deputy if elected, announced that he was sure of Mr. Nye's election even if the county did go two or three hundred Republican, as he knew of changes enough in the city of Marietta to effect the result. It turned out he largely over-estimated those in his favor, and entirely overlooked those against his candidate. When the votes were all in, it was found these personal friends of mine had kept their promise, and my majority was about double what it was in the first race.

The duties of the office were pleasant, and the income fairly remunerative. There being no Common Pleas Judge resident of the county, at that time, many cases came before the Probate Court involving equity points, as a chancellors jurisdiction was given by law in the absence of a Common Pleas Judge. My decisions were made promptly after being fairly presented by the lawyers on both sides, and at the end of my six years service, I had the satisfaction of knowing that none of them had been reversed by a higher court. A third nomination was offered in 1875 but I declined it, while expressing gratitude to influential friends who offered to secure it; as I wished to resume my practice which I was sure would be more lucrative than the emolument of the office. /

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My anticipations as to the practice were not too sanguine as I had a fair docket for the first term after my time on the bench expired. My oldest son Frank R. who had graduated from Marietta College in the summer of 1874, and who had read law under one of the best firms in Marietta, Judges Ewart and Sibley, was admitted to the bar and became my law partner in the spring of 1876. My family had grown to three sons, and three daughters, all living at home except my oldest daughter, who had married in 1875 Daniel R. Greene (at the time of this writing) President of the Pueblo National Bank. Our practice increased until it was among the best of any firm in the city. In August 1876 my partner married Miss Marie E. Thomas, and we began to think of a larger field before he should begin housekeeping. As he was in no great haste in this, and we were doing well, we made no move till January 1, 1878 when we opened an office in Cincinnati, and he and his wife came there to live; while my family and I remained in Marietta till spring to enable me to close up, as far as possible, the cases on our docket, that would be for trial at the February term. Early in March, we followed him, and have been residents of Cincinnati ever since. Our law practice in Cincinnati grew about as we expected, and my U.S. Claims business, which I had never abandoned, grew quite rapidly. Indeed this became so extensive after a few years, that we seldom found time to go to Court to try cases. For a while we continued to file pleadings, and get other lawyers to try such cases as we could not be present to try. Then we began to send clients to other lawyers in cases not the most desirable. In July 1884 it became evident that our practice before the Departments would /

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so far surpass that before the Courts, that I thought it only fair to take Frank R. as a partner in this more lucrative branch, and the firm of A. W. M^cCormick and Son, Pension Attorneys and U.S. Military Claim Agents, was formed. While lawyers and doctors are not expected to advertise, as such, there is no objection to their advertising any other business in which they may be engaged. The law of 1870, which permitted a contract for a $25 fee, in original pension cases, repealed in June 1878, had just been re-enacted; and we saw a fine field for a firm of experience, energy and ability which we hoped we might be considered, in the pension business. We inserted a small card, announcing our firm name, location and business, and offering to send the laws and circulars, and give advice free, not even asking a stamp enclosed. This we put in about three thousand papers, in all parts of the United States, but mostly in the central and north-western states, where most of the Union soldiers live. We paid about four thousand dollars, that year, for advertising, our contracts usually being for five lines, every other week, in this vast number of newspapers. They were generally co-operative weekly papers which enabled us to reach all parts of the country at a comparatively small cost. Next year we only found it necessary to spend two thousand dollars, and our extensive business kept up—as we were now reaping the benefit of our advertising of the past year. We found we got business from the central and northwestern states to a greater extent than we had dared to hope, but not much from the New England and other eastern states and the South. It became evident that people would not send west to Cincinnati for the Atlantic Coast for attorneys to present claims at Washington /

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to any great extent. We needed a Washington office. On the first of January 1887 we opened an office in Washington D.C. of which Frank R. M^cCormick took charge. Then the advertising as in 1884 and 1885 was renewed with vigor, this time giving most attention to New England and the East. The result was as we expected. The Washington office was deluged with letters from Pennsylvania and all states East, while our business in the southeast grew rapidly. Meantime the business at the Cincinnati office was increasing, but it came from the states west of Pennsylvania. We had introduced lady clerks and typewriters in both offices, and kept adding to the number as the increase of business made it necessary. The large local business at Cincinnati, where a half a million people live within a few miles radius, and clients could call in the office to make up their claims and evidence, made it necessary to keep a notary constantly employed and often two notaries are necessary. The expenses of such establishment, for clerk hire, office rent, printing of blanks, laws and circulars, and for postage and various other items, were large. Still, when the income justifies it, we do not hesitate to incur them, and we have always been careful to have it justify all we pay. In January, 1888, we took my other two sons into the firm, Dr. A. Lee M^cCormick giving up a good medical practice to enter it, and Dr. Lynn M^cC. postponing his contemplated entrance on a medical career. The business still continued lucrative, and all felt we were profitably employed. But in the spring of 1889 Dr. A. Lee found his former patients would not let him give up his practice while he lived among them, and he sold out to me his interest in the firm, resumed his medical practice, and soon built a house /

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and got married to Miss Helen B. Voorhees. He could not give full time to firm business and then practice medicine out of usual business hours, without overtaxing the physical powers of a strong man, and as he expected to ultimately resume his medical practice, he thought best to do so at that time, and he soon found it all back again, and much increased.

I had traveled over the South and the Central and Eastern states, but had never been to the Northwest further than the Mississippi valley till the summer of 1891. I had read and heard much of the boundless prairies, and of the beauties of the scenery—especially of the Rocky Mountain scenery. I had long had a desire to see them, and in August 1891, when my daughter and her family moved to Pueblo, I went with them to their far Western house, to spend a month. Much of the time I spent in Pueblo, which I found to be a thriving city of near 40,000, it having made the greatest proportionate increase of population between 1880 and 1890 of any city in the United States. Its location so near the great gold, silver, coal, iron and oil fields makes it the most promising manufacturing city in the state, if not in the whole West. It already has the most extensive steel works west of the Ohio, and several smelters for the reduction and treatment of gold, silver and copper—so that many of the most sagacious men have predicted a wonderful future for this "Pittsburgh of the West".

I made a visit to Denver, and was much pleased with that beautiful city. Then I took a trip to Salt Lake City and Ogden, over the Denver and Rio Grande railroad, so celebrated for the scenery along its route—going over the Rocky Mountains by one route and returning by the other. I thus got a splendid view of the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas, the Royal Gorge, /

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and the fine mountain views of the Leadville route; and of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison on my return. Excellent photographs of many of these have been made, but none of them do full justice to these great wonders of nature. I resolved to revisit Colorado the next year and with my Commandery of Knights Templar, Cincinnati No. 3, I made the pilgrimage to Denver to the conclave of 1892, taking with me my wife and daughters Misses Ida and Bella. My interest in the climate and scenery of Colorado had only increased by my first visit, and it was all charming to the family. So much were they delighted with it that at the end of a month, the time I felt I could spare for the excursion, they decided to stay a month longer. The beautiful sunny weather and pure air of the high altitude of Pueblo, Denver Manitou and Colorado Springs, as well as the scenery, possess charms which the traveler rarely can resist. I have felt and often said, that were my business interests there, I would be glad to make Pueblo or Denver my home.

DATABASE CONTENT

(10321)

DL1628.089

162

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Tags: Abraham Lincoln, African Americans, Amputations, Animals, Anxiety, Artillery, Battle of Shiloh, Births, Bounties, Business, Camp/Lodging, Cavalry, Children, Clothing, Cotton, Crops (Other), Death (Military), Discharge/Mustering Out, Election of 1864, Emancipation, Enlistment, Family, Farming, Fighting, Food, Furloughs, Guns, Happiness, Hospitals, Illnesses, Laws/Courts, Mail, Marching, Marriages, Medicine, Money, Nature, News, Newspapers, Paroles/Paroled Troops, Payment, Picket Duty, Planters/Plantations, Politics, Prisoners of War, Promotions, Railroads, Rumors, School/Education, Ships/Boats, Slavery, Supplies, Weather, William T. Sherman, Work

People - Records: 1

(3405) [writer] ~ McCormick, Andrew W.

SOURCES

Andrew W. McCormick Memoir, undated, DL1628.089, Nau Collection

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