When Banks marched out to invest Port Hudson, a portion of his forces, under Gen. Godfrey Weitzel, made a long detour to the west from New Orleans and thence northward. At Franklin, on the Atchafalaya, a strong force of the enemy was found, and Weitzel at once attacked it, April 12th. There was spirited fighting with both infantry and artillery through the day, but with no decisive result, and at night the Confederates retreated toward Irish Bend. Here they met Grover's division, which had been sent there to cut off their retreat, and on the 14th there was another battle. The Twenty-fifth Connecticut Regiment, thrown out as a skirmish line, advanced to the edge of the woods, when they were met with a sharp musketry fire, and also came within range of the Confederate battery and the Confederate gunboat Diana. It was the first time that this regiment had been under fire, but the men stood to the work like veterans, and very soon a brigade, under Gen. Henry W. Birge, came to their support. Two guns were brought up, which answered the artillery fire of the enemy; but still the advance troops were suffering from a cross-fire, which was increased by the appearance of two Confederate regiments on the right flank. One regiment was moved to the left, and advanced rapidly upon the battery, firing as it went, when the guns were soon whirled away to save them from capture. This regiment did capture the battery's flag, and was just resting in supposed victory, when another Confederate force came upon its flank, and it was hastily withdrawn. A second brigade was now sent to the assistance of the first, and the whole made a grand charge, before which the Confederates fled in disorder; and when a third brigade came up and threatened the capture of the gunboat Diana, her crew abandoned her and blew her up. Sixty prisoners were taken, and some artillery horses and many small arms. Out of three hundred and fifty men of the Twenty-fifth Connecticut Regiment, which took the leading part in this action, eighty-six were killed or wounded, and ten were missing. The Thirteenth Connecticut lost seven killed and forty-six wounded. Many instances of peculiar valor in this small but destructive battle are recorded. Of Lieut. Daniel P. Dewey, who was killed at the point where the hostile lines came nearest together, the adjutant wrote: "I saw him then, and the sight I shall never forget—waving his sword above his head, calling to his men, 'Remember you are Company A,' his whole bearing so brave and heroic that it seemed almost impossible for any enemy to avoid marking him. Standing unmoved in a rain of bullets, he had a word of encouragement for every man near him, kindly greeting for a friend, and even a merry quotation from a favorite song to fling after a shell that went shrieking by. So I last saw him, so I shall always remember him." Lieutenant Dewey had left his studies in Trinity College, Hartford, to enlist.

At Vermilion Bayou there were several slight actions, the most considerable of which took place October 10th. The Confederates being discovered here to the number of six or seven thousand, together with two batteries and a cavalry force, the Nineteenth Corps advanced to take them. After cavalry skirmishing a line of battle was formed, and the Confederates were driven across the bayou. Three batteries of rifled guns were then brought up, and they were diligently shelled wherever there was any appearance of them on the shore or in the woods. The cavalry found a ford, and the infantry improvised a pontoon bridge, which was partly supported by the burned portions of the bridge that the enemy had used. The whole force then crossed the bayou, but was not able to overtake the flying Confederates. A report says: "The conduct of all concerned in this affair was excellent, and the most conspicuous of all was the gallant General Weitzel on his war-horse, riding boldly to the front, whither he had forbidden any other going on horseback. His appearance inspired the troops with the wildest enthusiasm, and the firing, which was warm and rapid before, seemed to redouble as he rode along the line."

In April, another expedition, commanded by Col. O. P. Gooding, consisting of one brigade, marched against the Confederate works on the Bayou Teche. As soon as they arrived in sight of the batteries, on the 13th, they were met by an artillery fire, which they returned at the same time that a large part of the infantry crossed the bayou and gained a position partly in the rear. Here they were met by a heavy skirmish line, which they gradually drove back into the works. A portion of the intrenchments were then carried by assault, when darkness put an end to the fight. In the morning it was found that the enemy had fled. One hundred and thirty of them had been made prisoners. Colonel Gooding's loss was seventy-two men, killed or wounded. One of the many instances of personal daring and skill that occurred in this great war is specially mentioned in the colonel's report. In the course of the fight Private Patrick Smith, of the Thirty-eighth Massachusetts Regiment, came suddenly upon three Confederate soldiers in the woods. He shot one, and compelled the other two to surrender, and brought them in as prisoners.

Galveston, Tex., had been occupied by National forces, and its harbor closed to blockade-running, in October, 1862. On the first day of January, 1863, a strong Confederate force, under Gen. John B. Magruder, attacked the fleet and the garrison, and succeeded in retaking the town and raising the blockade. The naval force there consisted of six gunboats, under Commander W. B. Renshaw. Three Confederate steamers were discovered in the bay by the bright moonlight of the preceding night, and very early in the morning they came down to attack the gunboats, while at the same time the land force attacked the garrison. The gunboat Harriet Lane was set upon by two Confederate steamers, which were barricaded with cotton bales, and carried rifled guns, besides a large number of sharp-shooters on the decks. The Harriet Lane made a gallant fight, and was rammed by one of the steamers, which so injured itself in the collision that it ran for the shore and sank. The other steamer then ran into the Harriet Lane, made fast to her, sent volleys of musketry across her deck, and boarded her. She was quickly captured; but her commander, J. M. Wainwright, refused to surrender, and defended himself with his revolver until he was killed. The first lieutenant and five of the crew also fell. The Owasco, going to the assistance of the Harriet Lane, got aground several times, and finally, seeing that the guns of the Harriet Lane were turned upon her, drew off, but continued the engagement with the enemy on shore. The other gunboats had a similar ill-fortune, and when some of them finally arrived within range of the Harriet Lane they were prevented from firing upon her by the fact that the Confederates exposed her captured crew on deck. Flags of truce, demanding surrender, were now sent in by the Confederates, who used the opportunity while operations were thus suspended to capture the garrison on shore, and get artillery into position to fire upon the gunboats. Commander Renshaw declined to surrender, and ordered his executive officer to blow up the Westfield, in case she could not be got afloat. Arrangements for this were made, and the explosion took place prematurely, killing Commander Renshaw, two other officers, and a dozen of the crew. The remaining gunboats escaped and abandoned the blockade. General Magruder then issued a proclamation declaring the port opened to commerce.

The minor events of the third year included a few naval affairs of some importance in their way. On the 14th of January guerillas captured the steamer Forest Queen at Commerce, Miss., and destroyed her. The privateer Nashville had been for some time blockaded by Du Pont's vessels, where she lay under the guns of Fort McAllister, Ga. She made several unsuccessful attempts to get to sea, and finally, on the 27th of February, Commander John L. Worden, perceiving that she had grounded, moved up rapidly with the iron-clad Montauk, and at twelve hundred yards fired into her with eleven-inch and fifteen-inch shells. Several of these exploded inside of the Nashville and set her on fire. She burned until the flames reached her magazine, when she was blown into fragments. Worden had been assisted by three wooden vessels of the blockading fleet, which kept down the fire of the battery. On the Nansemond River, Va., in April, one of the National gunboats, the Mount Washington, being disabled, the Confederate gunboats came down to attack her, using both artillery and sharp-shooters. Lieut. William B. Cushing, commanding the Barney, went to her assistance, and after a sharp fight drove off the Confederate boats and brought away the Mount Washington in tow. Three of his men were killed and seven wounded. He says in his report: "It is only requisite to look at the Mount Washington to see with what desperate gallantry Lieutenant Lampson fought his vessel."

The troubles with Indians, which reached their height in the Minnesota massacres of 1862, continued to some extent through 1863. In July a body of troops, commanded by Lieut.-Col. William R. Marshall, had a severe fight with them at a place called Big Mound, in Dakota. The Indians were posted among the rocky ridges and ravines of the summit range, and Marshall was obliged to make several detours to flank them as he drove them successively from one ridge to another. At the same time a detachment under Major Bradley had fought them on another ridge, and finally, in a desultory fight that lasted from four o'clock in the morning till nine o'clock at night, the Indians were completely routed and scattered. Colonel Marshall lost eight men, including a surgeon who was murdered before the fight, and killed or wounded about one hundred of the Indians. In September there were several other engagements of the usual character with the Indians, in Dakota, the most considerable of them taking place at Whitestone Hill. Here Gen. Alfred Sully's command attacked a party of Indians who had been murdering and plundering, and not only defeated them and put them to flight, but captured much of the property of the Indians, including dogs, tents, and a large quantity of dried buffalo meat, all of which he burned. He took more than one hundred Indians prisoners. On the 8th of July there was a fight near Fort Halleck, Idaho, between the garrison of the fort and a party of Ute Indians. The engagement had lasted two hours, when the soldiers, led by Lieutenant Williams, made a charge that finished the battle, and the Indians fled to the mountains. Sixty of the Indians had been killed or wounded, and half a dozen of the soldiers.

One of the incidents of this year well illustrates the true method of dealing with a contingency that arises in nearly every war. General Burnside had ordered the execution of two Confederate officers who were detected in recruiting for their army within his lines—in other words, inducing his men to desert. In this action he followed strictly the laws of war. When it became known to the Confederate authorities, they ordered that two captains should be selected by lot from among the prisoners held in Libby, for execution in retaliation. The order was transmitted to the keepers of the prison, who proceeded to carry it out, and three chaplains among the prisoners were appointed to conduct the drawing. The lot fell upon Capt. Henry W. Sawyer, of the Second New Jersey cavalry, and Captain Flynn, of the Fifty-first Indiana Regiment. The Richmond Despatch said in its report: "Sawyer heard the decision with no apparent emotion, remarking that some one had to be drawn, and he could stand it as well as any one else. Flynn was very white and much depressed." The two condemned men were conveyed to the headquarters of General Winder, who warned them not to be deluded by any hope of escape, as the retaliatory punishment would certainly be inflicted eight days from that time. Captain Sawyer obtained permission to write to his wife, on condition, of course, that the letter should be read by the prison authorities. In this letter, after telling what had been done, he wrote: "The Provost-General, J. H. Winder, assures me that the Secretary of War of the Southern Confederacy will permit yourself and my dear children to visit me before I am executed. You will be permitted to bring an attendant. Captain Whilldin, or uncle W. W. Ware, or Dan, had better come with you. My situation is hard to be borne, and I cannot think of dying without seeing you and the children. I am resigned to whatever is in store for me, with the consolation that I die without having committed any crime. I have no trial, no jury, nor am I charged with any crime, but it fell to my lot. You will proceed to Washington. My Government will give you transportation to Fortress Monroe, and you will get here by a flag of truce, and return the same way." Sawyer and Flynn were then placed in close confinement in a dungeon under ground, where they were fed on corn-bread and water, the dungeon being so damp that their clothing mildewed. Captain Sawyer's letter had precisely the effect that he intended—his wife immediately went to Washington with it, and laid it before the President and the Secretary of War. It happened at this time, that among the Confederate officers who were held as prisoners by the National authorities were a son of General Lee and a son of General Winder, and Secretary Stanton immediately ordered that these officers be placed in close confinement, as hostages for the safety of Sawyer and Flynn, while notification was sent by flag of truce to the Confederate Government, that, immediately upon receiving information of the execution of Sawyer and Flynn, Lee and Winder would be likewise executed. The result was what it always is when prompt and sufficient retaliation is prepared for in such cases—none of the men were executed, and within three weeks Captains Flynn and Sawyer were placed again on the same footing as other prisoners in Libby. During the war, whenever there was a proposal of retaliation for an outrage, there was always an outcry against it, on the ground that it would only result in double murders. Those who made such outcries could not have read history very attentively, or they would have known that the result has always been exactly the opposite of that.

CHAIN BRIDGE OVER THE POTOMAC RIVER, NEAR WASHINGTON.
(From a war-time photograph.)