At the commencement of the war there lived in Sharon, Miss., Mr. and Mrs. O’Leary, surrounded by a family of five stalwart sons. Mrs. Catherine O’Leary was a fond and loving mother, but also an unfaltering patriot, and her heart was fired with love for the cause of Southern liberty. Therefore when her brave sons, one after another, went forth to battle for the right, she bade them God-speed. “Be true to your God and your country,” said this noble woman, “and never disgrace your mother by flinching from duty.”

Her youngest and, perhaps, dearest, was at that time only 14. For a while she felt that his place was by her side; but in 1863, when he was barely 17, she no longer tried to restrain him. Her trembling hands, having arrayed the last beloved boy for the sacrifice, rested in blessings on his head ere he went forth. Repressing the agony which swelled her heart, she calmly bade him, also, “Do your duty. If you must die, let it be with your face to the foe.” And so went forth James A. O’Leary, at the tender age of 17, full of ardor and hope. He was at once assigned to courier duty under General Loring. On the 28th of July, 1864, at the battle of Atlanta, he was shot through the hip, the bullet remaining in the wound, causing intense suffering, until 1870, when it was extracted, and the wound healed for the first time. Notwithstanding this wound, he insisted upon returning to his command, which, in the mean time, had joined Wood’s regiment of cavalry. This was in 1865, 224 and, so wounded, he served three months, surrendering with General Wirt Adams at Gainesville. A short but very glorious record. Mrs. O’Leary still lives in Sharon. The old fire is unquenched.

MRS. ROONEY

[Mrs. Fannie A. Beers’ Memories, pages 217-220.]

There is one bright, shining record of a patriotic and tireless woman which remains undimmed when placed beside that of the most devoted Confederate women. I refer to Mrs. Rose Rooney, of Company K, Fifteenth Louisiana Regiment, who left New Orleans in June, 1861, and never deserted the “b’ys” for a day until the surrender.

She was no hanger-on about camp, but in everything but actual fighting was as useful as any of the boys she loved with all her big, warm, Irish heart, and served with the undaunted bravery which led her to risk the dangers of every battlefield where the regiment was engaged, unheeding havoc made by the solid shot, so that she might give timely succor to the wounded or comfort the dying. When in camp she looked after the comfort of the regiment, both sick and well, and many a one escaped being sent to the hospital because Rose attended to him so well. She managed to keep on hand a stock of real coffee, paying at times $35 per pound for it. The surrender almost broke her heart. Her defiant ways caused her to be taken prisoner. I will give in her own words an account of what followed:

“Sure, the Yankees took me prisoner along with the rest. The next day, when they were changing the camps to fix up for the wounded, I asked them what they would do with me. They tould me to ‘go to the devil.’ I tould them, ‘I’ve been long in his company; I’d choose something better.’ I then asked them where any Confederates lived. They tould me about three miles through the woods. On my way I met some Yankees. They asked 225 me, ‘What have you in that bag?’ I said, ‘Some rags of my own.’ I had a lot of rags on the top, but six new dresses at the bottom; and sure, I got off with them all. Then they asked me if I had any money. I said no; but in my stocking I had two hundred dollars in Confederate money. One of the Yankees, a poor devil of a private soldier, handed me three twenty-five cents of Yankee money. I said to him, ‘Sure, you must be an Irishman.’ ‘Yes,’ said he. I then went on till I got to the house. Mrs. Crump and her sister were in the yard, and about twenty negro women—no men. I had not a bite for two days, nor any water, so I began to cry from weakness. Mrs. Crump said, ‘Don’t cry; you are among friends.’ She then gave me plenty to eat,—hot hoecakes and buttermilk. I stayed there fifteen days, superintending the cooking for the sick and wounded men. One half of the house was full of Confederates and the other of Yankees. They then brought us to Burkesville, where all the Yankees were gathered together. There was an ould doctor there, and he began to curse me, and to talk about all we had done to their prisoners. I tould him, ‘And what have you to say to what you done to our poor fellows?’ He tould me to shut up, and sure I did. They asked me fifty questions after, and I never opened me mouth. The next day was the day when all the Confederate flags came to Petersburg. I had some papers in my pocket that would have done harrum to some people, so I chewed them all up and ate them; but I wouldn’t take the oath, and I never did take it. The flags were brought in on dirt-carts and as they passed the Federal camps them Yankees would unfurl them and shake them about to show them. My journey from Burkesville to Petersburg was from 11 in the morning till 11 at night, and I sitting on my bundle all the way. The Yankee soldiers in the car were cursing me, and calling me a damn rebel, and more ugly talk. I said, ‘Mabbe some of you has got a mother or wife; if so, you’ll show some respect for me.’ Then they were quiet. I had to walk three miles to Captain Buckner’s headquarters. 226 The family were in the house near the battle-ground, but the door was shut, and I didn’t know who was inside, and I couldn’t see any light. I sat down on the porch, and thought I would have to stay there all night. After a while I saw a light coming from under the door, and so I knocked; when the door was opened and they saw who it was, they were all delighted to see me because they were afraid I was dead. I wanted to go to Richmond, but would not go on a Yankee transportation. When the brigade came down, I cried me heart out because I was not let go on with them. I stayed three months with Mrs. Cloyd, and then Major Rawle sent me forty dollars and fifty more if I needed it, and that brought me home to New Orleans.”

Mrs. Rooney is still cared for and cherished by the veterans of Louisiana. At the Soldiers’ Home she holds the position of matron, and her little room is a shrine never neglected by visitors to “Camp Nichols.”