The regiment was drawn up by its proud officers; and other troops and citizens, including many ladies who added grace and beauty to the occasion, assembled nearby. The President stood on a little porch near a small table. The flag was handed him and he held it erect in his right hand, the staff resting on a table, its unfurled folds, rich and beautiful, wafted to the gentle breeze, and it could but be admired. Its makers, however, had not skillfully applied the rules of symmetry and proportion, either in the flag or its staff, for the former was something near the size and shape of a bed quilt and the latter was something less than a bed post. Both were clumsy and disproportionate. The President proceeded with the presentation. His speech was short, but informed, edified and enthused. When he reached the climax, among other things he said, "This flag is our symbol of liberty and on behalf of the ladies of the capital of our nation, I give it into hands that will proudly bear it to victory and never let it trail in the dust." Enthused while these and other words were so eloquently uttered, he held aloft, quivering in the air, as if in the grasp of a giant, this heavy and cumbersome flag. The audience had been spellbound until the climax came, and then enthusiasm scarcely had its bounds.
As I remember him, the President was tall, slender, and somewhat cadaverous. I had never before, nor have I since, heard him speak, but on the occasion mentioned I was greatly impressed and shared the general belief in his ability and power.
Other statesmen of the South visited the camp and spoke cheering words to the troops. All were optimistic in their expressed views of the outcome of the war then being entered upon. The most interesting to me of these visitors, however, was John Tyler, tenth President of the United States. He was then full of years, but possessed of much mental and physical vigor. Having learned something of his history and being but a schoolboy myself just approaching the threshold of life's battles, I was instinctively led to think of him and his life's work,—as a student at William and Mary College, then a fiddler and rollicking youth, as a brilliant lawyer at the Virginia bar, as a captain of a company in the war with Great Britain in 1812, as a brilliant leader in the Virginia legislature, as Governor of the State, as Representative and then Senator in the United States Congress, as successor to the Presidency after the death of William Henry Harrison and his stormy administration. But I have digressed and must return to my intended narrative.
Of the troops now arriving in the camp were the companies of the 37th Virginia Infantry Regiment, to which regiment this narrative will mainly refer. The men composing these companies were young, vigorous and patriotic, but few of them exceeding the age of 35 years. They were from that part of Virginia where milk and honey flow, and were in the main of as good blood as their respective counties contained. One company, with Capt. Shelby M. Gibson at its head, was from the county of Lee; one with Capt. Henry Clinton Wood at its head, from the county of Scott. Three with Capts. John F. McElheney, —— and Simon Hunt at their respective heads, from the county of Russell; and five with Capts. John F. Terry, James L. White, Wm. White, Robert Grant and George Graham at their respective heads, from the county of Washington.
These companies as designated by letter and their successive captains, brought about by casualties and other causes during the ensuing four years of war, were as follows:
Company "A"—Capt. John F. Terry, later Charles Taylor, still later William Lancaster.
Company "B"—Capt. William White, later Benjamin P. Morrison.
Company "C"—Capt. John F. McElheney, later John Duff, still later John P. Fickle.
Company "D"—Capt. Henry Clinton Wood, later James H. Wood.
Company "E"—Capt. Shelby M. Gibson, later Samuel Shumate.