Wm. Hewitt, 1860
Wm. Hewitt, First Lieut., 1868
Wm. B. Curtis, Colonel

To the Surviving Comrades and the
Families of the Fallen of the
Old Twelfth this work
is Respectfully
Dedicated

PREFACE

Comrades:

You conferred upon me at our reunion, held at New Cumberland, in 1889, the honor of selecting me to compile a history of the Twelfth. The matter was taken into consideration afterward by me, and owing in part to the magnitude, burden and difficulty of the proposed task, my inexperience in this kind of undertaking, and because I believed that there were other survivors of the regiment much better qualified to write the history, it was concluded to forego the undertaking. But at our next reunion, because Col. Curtis was disappointed that nothing had been done in the matter of the history, and was anxious that it be written, and for the reason that the comrades present again expressed a desire that I should undertake the work, I promised to attempt it and do the best I could. Laboring under the unavoidable difficulties that it has been thirty years since the old Twelfth was making its history in the field, the almost total lack of official records pertaining exclusively to the regiment, and the uncertainty of memory at this late day, I have tried with reasonable fidelity to fulfill my promise. In reason more should not be expected.

If you, the survivors of the Twelfth, be pleased with the history, this fact will be a sufficient reward for my labors; but, on the other hand, if it shall not come up to your expectations, you should be charitable to its faults and short comings, remembering that however great its imperfections you, yourselves, are largely responsible, for the task was not one of my own seeking, but was rather thrust upon me.

The plan aimed at in writing the history is to not go outside of our own organization in what is related, except to give a brief account of the operations of the various armies to which we belonged, and to intersperse the work with incidents, anecdotes, and matters mainly personal to the members of the regiment.

Whatever possible merit may be found in the history is largely due to the assistance of comrades in furnishing valuable data. Some of them were quite liberal in their contributions. And where there is failure to make mention of incidents worthy of record, or of daring deeds of individuals or detachments, it is because they were not known, or are not remembered by the compiler. Reasonable effort was made to get all such details. A card was inserted in various newspapers, and letters were written to different comrades asking that they be furnished. If comrades shall fail to find, as no doubt they shall, a record herein of certain incidents worthy of mention, they will be forbearing toward the historian when they consider that there is a number of such matters herein given that they did not know of or have forgotten.

The comrades will all feel like thanking Mrs. McCaffrey, formerly Mrs. Bengough, wife of the late Lieut. Bengough of the Twelfth, for the vivid and stirring story of the capture, detention and final release of herself and sister-in-law as prisoners by the Rebels, kindly furnished for this history.

Surviving Comrades, this attempted record of the history of the old Twelfth is now submitted to your charitable consideration, and may your days be long, peaceful, pleasant and prosperous.

WILLIAM HEWITT.

June 20th, 1892.

INDEX

CHAPTER I.

(1) The great War of the Rebellion had gone on for more than a year, and had assumed proportions of a grand scale, dwarfing any other ever fought on this continent, so far as there is any history; in fact, making all other wars on this side of the ocean appear, by comparison, to be Lilliputian in character; and so far as the magnitude of its theater or geographical extent was concerned, the greatest war in the history of the world.

(2) Previous to our great war it had been supposed that modern times had only one man surely—possibly others—capable of efficiently handling a hundred thousand men—Napoleon Bonaparte. But this mighty conflict was developing more than one man fully able to command that number of men in action; and at least one man capable of having a general supervision over fully a million of men in the field. We were exhibiting to the world new methods of warfare both on land and sea, and showing it that we had the most effective and intelligent soldiers in the world.

(3) Several hundred thousand men had been called into the field, armed and equipped. Men and money had been lavishly expended. There was a willingness on the part of the loyal people to spend the last dollar and furnish the last man, if they could see any evidence of progress on the part of our arms, or have any assurance of final success in the suppression of the Rebellion.

(4) The war on the part of the Government, however, had been begun with an entirely inadequate idea of the magnitude of the undertaking. It is well known that one[1] high in the councils of the nation had predicted before hostilities actually began that there would be peace in sixty days, and even the good President seemed to think that all the threatening aspect of affairs would pass away if a little time were allowed for the passions of the people to cool. There seemed to be a want of comprehension on the part of the loyal people generally, and not less so on the part of those holding the reins of government, of the terrible earnestness and deadly determination of those who had taken up arms to disrupt the Government.

(5) Hence the first call for troops to cope with what was to prove to be the most determined and formidable rebellion recorded in history, was for only seventy-five thousand men, and what was worse, for only the short terms of three months, as though the suppression of the Rebellion was comparatively a trivial affair.

(6) There was some reason, however, aside from the supposed sufficiency of the first call for troops, for not calling out a greater force, namely, the lack of arms and other munitions of war; but this excuse could not be offered for the deplorable blunder, which all now can see, of making the term of the first enlistment only three months, many regiments' time expiring when they were sorely needed.

(7) In the outset of hostilities and actual conflict of arms, there was a remarkable lack of earnestness and the customary severity, which is generally supposed to characterize grim-visaged war, shown by some of our generals in the field. In some instances the first prisoners were merely sworn to not take up arms again against the Government and then let go—"a process," says Greeley in his American Conflict, "about as imposing and significant, in their view, as the taking of a glass of cider." This treatment of prisoners soon became a by-word and jeering jest among the soldiers. It is related that during the Three Months' service, when a comrade had captured a snake and was holding it up by the tail, a fellow soldier called out to him to swear him and let him go.

(8) There was great tenderness, too, in the beginning of the war, shown by professed friends of the Union, for the people of those States which assumed to be out of the Union; and for the people of the States which were nominally within the Union, yet whose loyalty was of an exceedingly questionable kind, as was manifested by their objecting to the soldiers of our country marching under our common flag, setting foot upon their soil. It was alleged by these professed friends that, by treating the Rebels with severity, the people of the seceded States would be so exasperated thereby that all hope of restoring the Union would be forever destroyed. Just as though they were not already inflamed to the highest pitch, and enraged to the last degree, when a timid, halting policy of being afraid of hurting them, was only bringing the Government into disrespect, encouraging the enemy, and making more Rebels every day; and when a decided, vigorous course toward the traitors was needed to sharply draw the line between the enemies and friends of the Government.

(9) There was also a halting, half-hearted policy shown in the disposition and handling of the eastern army—a dissipation of its strength which resulted in bringing only little more, if any force, on the Union side, than about one-half of the available strength in the first battle of Bull Run, fought July 21st, 1861, and resulting in a humiliating defeat, which defeat had the effect of stimulating and vitalizing the Rebellion into tremendous vigor, and giving it high hope and great energy.

(10) This defeat at the time was universally regarded as a great calamity, though it is now seen, in view of the fact that it necessitated the prolonging of the war, thereby compelling more extreme and radical measures for the suppression of the Rebellion, and consequently making a more substantial and durable peace, that that reverse to our arms was a blessing in disguise.

(11) It was followed by the calling out of five hundred thousand more troops, and the next spring, by General McClellan's dilatory, sluggish and worse than abortive attempt to take Richmond with the Grand Army of the Potomac. And this failure of this magnificent army tended to still further encourage the Rebellion. At the end of that campaign the Rebels were as full of the spirit of determination and as sanguine as ever. And although some substantial progress had been made by our arms in the Southwest, yet the results of the war so far were not satisfactory, nor at all equal to the great expenditure of men and money.

(12) Under this condition of affairs, and in this exigency, "Father Abraham" called on July 1st, 1862, not for "three hundred thousand more," but for six hundred thousand additional soldiers. And it was in response to this call for more defenders of the Union that the Twelfth West Virginia enlisted and was mustered into service along with the other reinforcements, to do what it might to keep the Old Flag aloft, and "that government of the people, by the people, and for the people might not perish from the earth."

(13) The Twelfth was made up of exceptionally good material. The men were mainly American born and native Virginians. They were a hardy, robust, vigorous, self-reliant class of men, mainly from the farming districts, of more than average size, many of them mountaineers. They enlisted under trying and embarrassing circumstances, and in great measure from patriotic impulses, their surroundings and circumstances in many cases tending to lead them to join their fortunes with the Rebel cause. It was a common thing for a West Virginia Union soldier to have friends and relatives in the Rebel army, and in some cases for brother to fight against brother.

(14) One of our faithful and efficient surgeons, of the Twelfth, F. H. Patton, now having the important and responsible position of being in charge of the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, Ohio, at a reunion at Wheeling in 1886 paid the boys of the Twelfth the compliment of relating that he was sometimes asked why it was that there were so few West Virginia soldiers found in the Soldiers' Home at Dayton, and said that he replied to that question, that the boys of West Virginia were a self-reliant class of men, used to and feeling themselves fully capable of looking after and taking care of themselves during the war, and that he thought the same trait, characterizing them yet, of looking out for themselves, accounted for so few West Virginia soldiers being found in soldiers' homes.

(15) Another incident will further illustrate the character of the men of this regiment. During the winter of 1864-5, the Tenth, Eleventh, Twelfth and Fifteenth West Virginia regiments, along with some other regiments, were sent from the Valley of Virginia to the Army of the James, and organized into a small division, General T. M. Harris, commander. This division was afterward known as the Independent Division. It so happened that members of some of the regiments of the corps to which our division was assigned were so inclined to desert to the enemy when on the picket line, that it was not considered safe to put those regiments on picket. Shortly after arrival, General Harris was asked by his commanding officer if he would be responsible for his men's deserting from the picket line. Harris replied that he would guarantee that not a man of his would desert. His confidence was not misplaced. The men were put on picket and not a man of the Twelfth deserted. The same is true, it is believed, of the other regiments of Harris's command. Of course the Twelfth, like other regiments, had its deserters; but that class was long since weeded out, and those left, the men in general, were determined to stand by the old flag to the end of their enlistment. They would rather die than desert.

(16) The Regiment was made up from the counties named below, as follows: Cos. A, B and C, in Marshall; Co. D, in Ohio County; Cos. E and G, in Harrison; Co. F, in Marion; Co. H, in Taylor; Co. I, in Hancock, and Co. K, in Brooke County.

(17) The Twelfth West Virginia Volunteer Infantry was mustered into the United States Service August 30th, 1862, at Camp Willey on Wheeling Island, and the organization completed as follows:

[1 ] Secretary Seward.

CHAPTER II.

(18) The Regiment did not remain long in Camp Willey. On the day after its completed organization it was ordered to Clarksburg, W. Va., which place was then threatened by a force under the Rebel General, Jenkins, who was then on a raid through West Virginia. Clarksburg is an old town, the county seat of Harrison County, situated on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, and distant by rail 122 miles from Wheeling. Clarksburg will be remembered by the great abundance, in its vicinity, of blackberries during the early fall of that year. They were so plentiful that there seemed to be enough for the Twelfth and the citizens of the town, too.

(19) The regiment arrived by rail at Clarksburg September 2nd, and on that day a detachment of four companies under command of Lieut. Col. R. S. Northcott was ordered to Beverly, the county seat of Randolph County, lying in a southeast direction, and distant from Clarksburg 60 miles. The detachment arrived at Beverly September 5th. This place is a small town situated on the Tygarts Valley branch of the Monongahela River, at the western base of Cheat Mountain.

(20) The remaining six companies under command of Col. John B. Klunk were ordered September 4th to Buckhannon, W. Va., the county seat of Upshur County, distant 28 miles. Buckhannon is pleasantly situated in apparently a good country.

(21) The detachment under command of Col. Northcott marched from Beverly September 13th for Webster, Taylor County, distant 42 miles, arriving at the latter place the 15th. On this march the detachment was followed by slaves, some half dozen, who were striking for freedom, saying that they had run away because their master had threatened to sell them. They seemed to attach themselves to Capt. Brown's Company (I), and appeared inclined to remain with it during the stay at Webster. One or two of these slaves were nearly white, and some of the boys inclining to talk to and hang around them, Capt. Brown concluded to get rid of them; so in a few days two of the boys going to Grafton, a few miles distant, he sent them with the boys.

(22) When the boys got to Grafton, a train of Ohio soldiers was about to start for Wheeling. One of the boys informed the colonel of the presence of the slaves and their story, and asked him if he would take them aboard of the train. He refused peremptorily. It looked blue for getting them off in that way. However, the Twelfth boys in passing to rear of the train—a long freight—caught sight of, as it appeared, some of the non-commissioned staff in the rear car. They were told what was wanted. One of them having an eye to the main chance, wanted to know how much money would be given to take the "darks" on board. In a few moments some money was paid, the Twelfth boys contributing in part, and quickly and slyly the fugitives were hustled aboard; and a little later the train was off. They were never heard of afterward. It is to be hoped, however, that the sweets of freedom were not a disappointment to them.

(23) The detachment left Webster on the 22nd and marched to Clarksburg, distant 18 miles, arriving there the same day. It remained at this place until October 1st, when it marched to Buckhannon, rejoining the other companies there. There was considerable rejoicing when the boys all got together again. In fact, the detachment met on its arrival with quite an ovation, the band coming out to greet it with stirring martial airs.

(24) The regiment remained at Buckhannon, doing guard and picket duty, and drilling until the 19th. It was at this place that a drill-master appeared, and he put the regiment through quite a course of drilling, having it out every day practicing, while he stayed. Among the other exercises, he practiced the regiment considerably on forming a correct equipment. He would place the Sergeants, two from each company, in a line, say ten steps in advance of the regiment; the Colonel or the Major would then march the men forward to the line of the Sergeants; and when a particularly good alignment was made in this way, the drill-master was in the habit of remarking, to the amusement of the boys, "I say, Colonel," or "I say, Major, that is a capital line."

(25) It is remembered that more than half of the companies, while having company drill at this time and place, would, on moving by different flanks on the march, in marching to the rear, have the order of the men reversed, so that No. 1 was on the place of No. 2, and vice versa. But it was never observed that this circumstance in any way interfered with the efficiency with which the boys afterward moved upon the enemy, or in case of an emergency, with the celerity with which they could "limber to the rear," as one boy expressed it. A little story, as "Father Abraham" would have said, relating to a later period of the war, will perhaps be not impertinent in this place.

(26) We were in the Valley under Gen. Sheridan. The Twelfth and Fourth West Virginia Infantry, under command of Lieut. Col. Northcott, had been to Martinsburg, and was returning to the camp at Cedar Creek, on a four-days' round trip. The Battle of Cedar Creek was fought while we were on the return. It is a matter of history that the Army of West Virginia, or the Eighth Corps, was surprised in that battle. It was attacked before daylight, its works carried, and it put to rout almost before it knew it. The men not captured "fled to the rear, as the only thing they could do." In order to the better appreciation of the story, it may be well to say that Gen. Sheridan had employed this corps, doubtless on account of its celerity of movement, to flank the enemy at both the Battle of Opequon and the Battle of Fisher's Hill. The Twelfth and Fourth reached the camp at Cedar Creek with a supply train on the forenoon after the battle. It should have been said that these two regiments belonged to the Eighth Corps. Just as they were getting into camp, while passing some of the Sixth Corps, one of the latter yelled out, seemingly in allusion to the formers' flanking movements, and its rout at Cedar Creek, "There goes some of that d——d Eighth Corps. They are always running one way or the other!"

(27) On the 19th six companies under command of Col. Klunk marched to Beverly, and November 1st they were rejoined there by the other four companies. At this period of our service we had Sibley tents, which were circular in form, having a center pole, and a hole at the top of the center of the tent. They were capable of holding about sixteen men. We had tin-plates, tin-cups, knives and forks, one of each for each soldier, and a camp-kettle for, say each mess of ten or fifteen men. We had also a mess-box, in which to pack the plates, etc., for transportation. When in camp during pleasant weather the boys would eat in the open air on tables erected for that purpose. In fact, there was considerable style put on in the outset of the regiment's service. It took time to pack mess-boxes, strike tents and get ready to march. It took six wagons to carry the camp equipage. A large army having a proportionate number of wagons would have had enough to seriously embarrass it, and it might be, to whip it, in an engagement. Later in the war, the last year or more, the camp equipage for the men was reduced to a piece of shelter-tent and a tin-cup. This was a deprivation, but it had its advantages, for the men did not have to wait on the wagons, as they had to do sometimes when the camp equipage was hauled; but they could pitch their tents and make their coffee whenever and wherever they stopped, for they carried their tents and tin-cups in which to make their coffee.

(28) At the time of this second march to Beverly, the regiment was pretty nearly full, not having been reduced by sickness or otherwise, there being not far from 800 men present for duty, and it made rather a formidable showing on the route. The impression that it made at that time upon a private soldier, as to its formidableness, may be here spoken of. "I used to think," said he later in the war, when he had had more experience, "that when I would take a survey of our regiment on the march, from some point on the route, we were not likely to meet any enemy that could withstand us." This shows that he, like thousands of others, who were under a mistake in a less degree as to the magnitude of the Rebellion, had a ridiculously inadequate idea of the numerical strength of the enemy, or of the vastness of the force necessary to overcome it, there being, if not just then, not long afterward, the equal of more than a thousand such regiments required to achieve that purpose.

(29) On our way to Beverly we passed over the battlefield of Rich Mountain, the first view we had of the sad havoc of war. Quite a number of Union and Rebel dead were buried here at the side of the road. It was said that when our forces drove the enemy from this position they found a trench dug at the side of the road over which this inscription was placed: "TO HOLD DEAD YANKEES." But the trench was utilized by filling it with dead Johnnys, about sixty of whom were buried here. A few of our men belonging to Ohio and Indiana regiments were buried in the corner of a garden nearby. The surrounding trees gave evidence of the struggle at this place.

(30) The regiment as a whole remained at Beverly only a few days. The stay at this place of the six companies first there was over two weeks. The Eighty-seventh Pennsylvania Infantry and the Ninth West Virginia Infantry were there with us at the same time. The Eighty-seventh and the Twelfth were camped near together, a short distance north of the town on the bank of the Tygart's Valley River. Col. Hay of the Eighty-seventh was a very pleasant man, and a good tactician; and while we were here used to drill the Twelfth; and a friendship sprang up between his boys and ours that was strengthened and never lost by after association in the same brigade or division.

(31) While we were at this town an unfortunate occurrence took place. A detail of the Ninth West Virginia was on guard in the town with orders to not allow any soldiers enter it without a pass. Some of the Eighty-seventh boys undertook to force past the guards, when one of the former was shot, it is not remembered whether fatally or not. When the news of the shooting came to camp there was a great commotion, like that of a disturbed hive of bees, in the camp of the Eighty-seventh. The boys went rushing to their tents, many of them from the river where they were washing clothes, to get their guns to avenge the shooting of their comrade. The aspect of things looked quite threatening for awhile. Finally, however, the officers of the regiment managed to quiet the men down, and further trouble was prevented.

(32) Sergeant Thomas J. Orr of Company D thus relates a couple of incidents of our stay at Beverly:

(33) Provisions being a little short, our larders were sometimes replenished from surrounding flocks and herds. An effort in this direction came near being attended with serious consequences. Jake McCormick of Company K concluded that bull-beef was a great deal better than no beef; so he and a chosen comrade or two walked deliberately down to the river, where a herd of cattle was quietly grazing, and selecting the patriarch of the herd, proceeded to extreme measures by shooting him to death, after which they dispossessed him of his hide, quartered and divided him among their hungry chums. Shortly an order was issued for Jake's arrest, but as the whole regiment was particeps criminis, the authorities concluded that it was too big a contract, and Jake escaped punishment, and went his way rejoicing.

(34) On another occasion a fine flock of sheep was reported a mile or two down the river. A squad from Company D concluded to sample the mutton of that part of the country. Selecting a fine moonlight night, and led on by Tegard and King, who located the flock, they soon arrived at the objective point. But here a difficulty arose that they had not anticipated. How would they get the sheep captured? For they were wild as deer. After thinking the matter over and discarding many proposed plans, King, who stuttered, said: "B-b-b-boys, I have it. Tegard and I will go down to the lower end of the field, make a gap in the fence, and the rest of you drive the sheep through. Tegard and I will lie down just inside the gap and catch our sheep as they go through." This being a feasible plan, the boys proceeded to carry it into execution. Tegard and King laid down the fence and laid themselves down just inside, to await coming events, or rather the coming of the sheep. They had not long to wait; the sheep, frightened by the other boys, made a drive for the gap in the fence, the largest and strongest, of course in the van. Now here was where the fun commenced. King was greedy and concluded that one would not be quite enough for him; so he grabbed two of the first that came through by the legs. Being large and strong, they dragged him a short distance from the fence, where the rest of the flock would light on him as they jumped through the gap. King held on to the mutton, but he was a sorry looking King when he got straightened up. And an inventory being taken of him, it stood something like this:

• G. W. King + two sheep.
• G. W. King + two black eyes.
• G. W. King + countenance demoralized generally.
• G. W. King - cap, coat and half his pants.

(35) After dressing three sheep the boys returned to camp in safety. But it was fun to hear King tell the boys the next day in his stuttering way how he got his black eyes.

(36) If there was anything a soldier would stake his all on, it was on something good to eat; and this further remark is ventured while on this subject: that there were members of the regiment who contented themselves with Government rations, but if any article of food was placed before them not found in "Uncle Sam's" bill of fare, they ate what was put before them, asking no questions for conscience's sake.

(37) The circumstance of the killing of the bull is well remembered, and it is not forgotten that the officers of the Twelfth, accompanied by the owner of the bull, went through the camp pretending to search the tents for that bull-beef, all the while trying to assume a serious face; but at the same time betraying in their countenances a manifest consciousness that the whole proceeding was a glaring farce. They did not want very much to find any part of the remains of the defunct bull. In fact, the whole performance gave the impression that it was a vigorous attempt at "how not to do it" and that the undertaking was succeeding admirably.

(38) Our stay at Beverly now came to a close. On November 5th three companies, F, D and I, with a detachment of the Ringgold Cavalry, a battalion of Pennsylvania troops under command of Major Pierpont of the Twelfth, were ordered on a scout through Pocahontas and Bath Counties, by way of Elkwater and Huntersville, to Monterey, the county seat of Highland County, W. Va., where they joined the other companies of the regiment, they, the latter, having started from Beverly one day late, and marched a different route, through Pocahontas and Pendleton Counties, under command of Col. Klunk, arriving at Monterey on the 9th.

(39) As there is no data at hand regarding events or incidents in connection with the seven companies, on this expedition to Monterey, the account given will relate exclusively to the three companies under command of Major Pierpont.

(40) On this scout the detachments of the three companies and the small cavalry force, traversed a section of country where Yankees had not been seen before. The opportunities for foraging here were good, and the boys improved them. One day an incident occurred that gave an intimation of the licentiousness and hardships of war. A citizen was met in the road. He wore a fur overcoat made of coonskin, and one of the cavalry men made him take it off and surrender it to him. The citizen passed on minus his overcoat, and in a predicament that should have enabled him to realize, in some measure, the beauties of secession.

(41) Camp was made one night at a place called Mingo Flats. While here a laughable affair occurred, for the relating of which as follows Sergeant Orr is drawn upon once more:

(42) There was not house room for all the command, so Company F and part of each of the other two companies, D and I, went into a meadow where there was a bunch of hay stacks. The men took the fence from around the stacks, and built square pens four or five rails high, leaving the side next the fire open. Then filling the pen up with hay they placed rails over the top, and covered all with hay, making excellent quarters for ten or a dozen boys.

(43) Capt. Prichard of Company F, and Lieut. Melvin of Company I, were both with this squad. The former was very much opposed to foraging; while the latter didn't care whether school kept or not, so they didn't bother him too much, and he got enough to eat. There was also in this squad a character of Company I we called "Nosey." Now it happened that there was a drove of calves in the meadow. And after we had our quarters prepared and fires built, some of the boys were peering around to see if there was anything in view appropriable. Among the number was "Nosey," who spied the drove of calves. Visions of fresh veal at once began to dance through his brain. With "Nosey" to think was to act. He made at once for the calves, selected his veal, grabbed it by the tail, and then the circus began. The calf was large and strong, but "Nosey" had a splendid hold. The calf broke for the fires at a 2:40 gait, "Nosey" keeping on his feet as best he could. Capt. Prichard, hearing the racket, drew his "cheese-knife," and ran out to intercept the culprit, whoever he might be. The first thing he saw was "Nosey" and his calf coming at full speed, whom he greeted with "Hold on, there! Hold on there!" "Nosey" replied: "I will, by ——." Just then a member of Company D, catching on, snatched an ax and relieved the breathless "Nosey" by tapping the calf gently on the head. We had veal for supper.

(44) On the second day out we passed over the Elkwater battlefield, where the Rebel Col. John A. Washington was killed. At Huntersville we surprised a number of Johnnys, who were sleeping off heavy potations of apple-jack, and took them along as prisoners, passing, on our way, up Knap's Creek Valley in Pocahontas County, a section of country of rich farm land, abounding in fine cattle and horses. It was a fine and amusing sight to see Acting Quarter Master Lieut. Bradley of Company I sailing over the broad meadows on horseback, endeavoring to capture the splendid horses grazing on the luxuriant pastures there. Some of the horses were too fleet to be captured, and maintained their freedom.

(45) The boys fared well on this raid, getting milk, honey, apples, etc., in abundance. The apples were buried in holes, as is frequently done with potatoes. And it was a laughable sight to see the boys fairly tumbling over each other, and almost standing on their heads, as they dived into the apple holes, trying to not get left in their attempts at getting a fair share of the apples.

(46) Sergeant Orr has the floor once more for the narration of an incident said to have occurred here, for the truth of which, however, he does not vouch. He tells it thus:

(47) "Two men of the expedition went into a house to get something to eat. It happened that the male folks were all away from home, as was generally the case in that section when the Yanks were about, leaving only two single ladies of uncertain age in charge of the premises. When our two Yanks made their appearance, the two ladies became frantic with terror; and holding up their hands exclaimed, 'Take our money, take everything we have, but do not harm us personally'! 'You personally be damned,' said the Yanks, 'have you any corn-bread?' That soothed them."

(48) On this raid of the three companies we captured 60 head of horses and mules, 300 head of cattle, 41 prisoners and a wagon load of fine butter on its way to Staunton, Va. The owner of the butter was sent to Camp Chase. Where the bulk of the butter went is not known, but the boys made use of some of it.

(49) We arrived at Monterey on the night of the 9th, rejoining here the other seven companies, as before stated, which had accompanied an expedition under command of Gen. R. H. Milroy, to this point. The regiment remained here but one day, when we started on our return, by way of Crab Bottom, resting one day there in the old Rebel winter quarters. We resumed our march on the morning of the 13th, by way of Franklin, the county seat of Pendleton County; thence by way of Circleville and Hunting Ground Mountain, back to Tygart's Valley River, five miles below Beverly, our starting point.

(50) A sad accident occurred while crossing the mountain. A member of the Eighty-seventh Pennsylvania, who was along with the expedition, was accidentally shot by a comrade. His comrades attempted to carry him, but they could not do so, and they were compelled to bury him on the lonely mountain, using their bayonets to dig his grave.

(51) Leaving our camp below Beverly, we marched to Webster, on the Parkersburg branch of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, where we arrived on the 18th, marching a distance of 238 miles in fourteen days during the most inclement season of the year, fording mountain streams, swollen by melting snow and rain, many of the men barefooted, and the roads half knee-deep with mud. It is not to be wondered at that many of the men succumbed to this severe ordeal, and were candidates for the hospital on our arrival at Webster.

(52) One more incident of this raid will perhaps bear relating. Some of the boys took the measles on the route. On the return to Beverly a sergeant was sent in charge of an ambulance containing four sick boys, something in advance of the regiment, and over a different route, it is believed, from that taken by it. One evening, the second out, perhaps, after ascending and descending Cheat Mountain, the driver halted the ambulance just at its base on the west side, where there was a hotel.

(53) Now it happened that Gen. Milroy and his Adjutant General, Capt. McDonald, if his name is not mistaken, were going to put up at that hotel. The boys being quite sick, the Sergeant spoke to the landlord to procure beds for them. He seemed reluctant to comply with the request, and perhaps, to baffle the Sergeant, he told him to see Capt. McDonald about the matter, saying it would be just as the Captain said.

(54) It often is the case that a man holding an inferior rank or position assumes an air of more importance, and more of "the insolence of office," than do his superiors. This Captain was no exception to this rule. In fact, he was a specimen of the type of fellows represented by the fellow who was "a bigger [sic] man than old Grant." So when the Sergeant spoke to him regarding the getting of the beds, he put on a forbidding and repellant air and said sarcastically that "he was not quarter-master." The Sergeant replied with somewhat of offended dignity that he would not have come to him at all, only that the landlord had referred him, the Sergeant, to him, the Captain.

(55) Here Gen. Milroy spoke up in a courteous and considerate manner, quite in contrast with that of the Captain, saying "We do not assume to have the disposition of the landlord's beds; they are entirely at his own disposal. As for myself, I can sleep on the floor." The Sergeant, being thus left to his own resources, secured those beds for the sick boys.

(56) The regiment left Webster on the 19th, going over the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad to New Creek, in Hampshire County, West Virginia, distance 89 miles, arriving there the same day. There were other troops besides the Twelfth. One of the regiments of these was the Twenty-third Illinois Infantry, Col. Mulligan's regiment. This command was made up almost if not entirely of men of Irish birth, Mulligan himself being of that nationality. He was a fine, tall, erect man, with a military air, and a general mien and bearing that would attract attention anywhere. For this reason, and because of his national reputation, no doubt, and, it may be, the circumstance that he wore a green shirt, he attracted considerable attention from our boys.

(57) As the weather was now pretty cold, and severe winter was approaching; and as we had established a camp here with regularly-laid-out streets, it looked as though we might winter here. But we staid here only three weeks. On the 11th of December our regiment marched by way of Burlington and Petersburg to Moorefield, the county seat of Hardy County.

(58) On the march to this place Lieut. Col. Northcott, stopping at a house on the way between Petersburg and Moorefield and getting thus behind the command, was taken prisoner by a Rebel scout. One of our scouts, however, followed the Rebel and his prisoner, and recaptured the Colonel, after, it was said, a severe hand-to-hand fight, in which each scout surrendered alternately, the Union scout coming out final victor.

CHAPTER III.

(59) At Moorefield the Twelfth was assigned to Gen. Cluseret's brigade of Milroy's division, and on the 17th Gen. Cluseret started on an expedition to Strasburg, Va., the Twelfth being part of his command. We marched 26 miles the first day, camping on Lost River, four miles from Wordensville. That night was cold and stormy. The wind blew so that it made the soldiers' blankets flap as they lay under them trying to get a little sleep, and it was so cold that in some cases they had to get up in the night to go to the large fires they had made to get warm. That night it froze so hard that the creek was frozen so as to bear up a horse, but not quite the artillery. There was some difficulty in getting it over the creek. It was to this bleak and inhospitable place that the eccentric genius, "Barney" Wiles of Company D, alluded when he spoke of "the place where fire froze and turkeys chewed tobacco."

(60) The second day the command marched through Wordensville to Capon Springs, 18 miles, encamping there for the night in the Mountain House, a magnificent building of 410 well finished rooms, situated right in the midst of rather a dense forest. Owing to the torturous mountain roads we were close to this building before observing it. Making a sharp turn in the road, its grand proportions flashed upon us suddenly, as if by magic. The water in these springs is quite warm, and much steam was arising from it that cold weather.

(61) We had good quarters that night, having nice mattresses on which to sleep. But we had to get up very early in the morning to resume our march to Strasburg. Surgeon Bryon of the Twelfth, in a half-jocular and half-earnest way, protested against getting up so early, saying "It's not the ideal thing, and I don't believe in it—this thing of getting up at midnight to stuff victuals and start out on a Rebel hunt."

(62) After "stuffing victuals" we pushed out for Strasburg, a distance of 18 miles, where the Rebel Gen. Jones was, with a small force, which retired before the advance of Cluseret's brigade, leaving only his rear-guard to skirmish with the advance, as it entered the town.

(63) Gen. Cluseret was a spirited, dashing Frenchman, who afterward figured prominently in belligerent affairs in Paris, after its evacuation by the Prussians, in the late Franco-Prussian War. And it was a picturesque sight to see him in his corduroy pantaloons, on nearing the town, dashing ahead of the infantry with a very small body-guard, while some skirmishing was going on with the cavalry. Some prisoners were taken here.

(64) On nearing Strasburg we got our first sight of the far-famed Shenandoah Valley, which had already been the scene, so far in the war, of some bloody battles, and was destined to be the scene of some far more bloody. And at the same time we got our first view of the no less famed Blue Ridge.

(65) We camped at Strasburg that night. This was a small town of quite ancient appearance, situated on the north bank of the North Branch of the Shenandoah River, and at the base of the Massanutten Mountain, lying to the south. The next day the command marched six miles to Middletown. We remained here until the 24th.

(66) Our movement from Moorefield had been a rapid one, and all subsistence and camp equipage had been left behind, except what the men could carry. So we had, in part, while at Middletown, to live off the country, regular foraging details being sent out for the purpose of getting subsistence, which were fairly successful. And we had to extemporize such quarters as best we could, while staying at Middletown. We built up rail-pens, filling them in and covering them over with straw for quarters. They answered very well for that purpose, as the weather was then quite fine for that season of the year.

(67) On the 24th the command marched to Winchester, Va. For a little while, until our tents arrived, we occupied the abandoned Rebel winter quarters at that place, made of cedar brush. It appeared that when the Johnnys vacated their quarters they were not entirely abandoned—we found other occupants of them. It was here that we made our first acquaintance with "grey-backs." We found them companions whose acquaintance was hard to cut. They seemed to be no respectors of persons. It was not an uncommon sight to see a Colonel with his shirt off looking industriously for the little enemy, just the same as though the said Colonel were a fellow of low degree. As Artemas Ward would perhaps have said, he, the "grey-back," was a "little cuss," who seemed to love war against the human species for its own sake, not caring a continental whether he attacked a Union soldier or a Reb.

(68) When the regiment started on the raid by way of Strasburg, a part of it was left behind at Moorefield. This detail of about 75 men, and about the same number of the Tenth West Virginia Infantry, the latter under command of Capt. Darnell of the latter regiment, and the whole under command of Capt. J. W. Moffatt of Company G of the Twelfth, struck tents and started for Winchester with a wagon train of supplies for Cluseret's command, leaving Moorefield the 28th. At Wordensville, four miles out, they were attacked by Rebel cavalry. The Wheeling Intelligencer of June —, 1865, in a sketch of the history of the Twelfth, said of this affair: "They were attacked by about 300 of Imboden's cavalry, and, notwithstanding the largely superior force of the enemy, Capt. Moffatt repulsed them handsomely, driving them several miles, and conducted the train safely to Gen. Cluseret at Winchester."

(69) The Intelligencer's statement regarding this affair is not strictly correct, for the Rebels captured 52 horses from the train. No blame attaches to Capt. Moffatt, however, as he was a brave and faithful officer.

(70) After this attack and repulse Capt. Moffatt and his train-guard had no further trouble. On the route they crossed the south branch of the Potomac, passed through Romney, crossed Lost River, passed through Blue Gap, crossed Capon River, and on the fifth day out, January 1st, 1863, arrived at Winchester, the train-guards of the Twelfth rejoining here their regiment. This was the day on which the President's Emancipation Proclamation was to take effect, but strange to say the colored people of Winchester seemed utterly ignorant of the fact that there was such a thing as any proclamation of freedom.

(71) One was struck with the number of colored people in this town with white blood in them. They were of all shades of color, from, say half white to nearly white. An incident in this connection is perhaps deserving of a place. After we had been in Winchester for some time, and had begun to get a little acquainted, Surgeon Bryan of the Twelfth one day got into a conversation with a lady of the city, and, pertinent to the subject of the conversation, remarked that he could scarcely distinguish the negroes from the whites.

(72) "How is that," inquired the lady, "are the white people so dark?"

(73) "Oh, no;" he replied, "it is not that the whites are so dark, but that the blacks are so white."

(74) To go back a little, some skillful maneuvers by Gen. Cluseret, shortly after his arrival at Winchester from Strasburg, should be mentioned. One day there seemed to be some signs of an attack by Gen. Sam Jones. And it appeared as though our General wished to avoid, at that time, an attack from the enemy; so he moved the bulk of his brigade, consisting in all of about 2,500 men, over a ridge to the north, a half mile distant, out of sight; then he brought them in view again, on the ridge several hundred yards to the right, marched them along the southern slope of the ridge, and passed over it out of sight, at the same place as before. Thus making it appear that two columns had crossed the ridge instead of one.

(75) This maneuver was calculated to deceive the enemy if he viewed it from a distance, for some of our own men looking on from a distance, thought we were getting reinforcements. Some of the citizens of the town remarked afterward, it was said, that they thought that Gen. Cluseret's strategic handling of his brigade on that occasion was well done.

(76) Winchester at the time of our occupancy of it was a rather pretty old town pleasantly situated, and of about 6,000 inhabitants. It was a place of historic associations, among which may be named the fact that it was the burial spot of Gen. Daniel E. Morgan of Revolutionary fame, and it was destined to have still further historic associations.

(77) The citizens were almost universally disloyal; and the women especially took particular pains, on our coming among them, to show their hostility toward, and aversion for, the Yankees, by pulling their veils over their faces on passing the men on the street, and other like demonstrations. But time and association have their influence, and after awhile these manifestations of dislike and enmity almost entirely ceased. In fact, on entering their houses the women would treat you courteously, and in some instances, it is remembered, that they used, in a half pleasant, half tantalizing way, to sing for and at us their Rebel songs, such as "The Bonny Blue Flag," etc., and then apologetically ask us to not be offended at their doing so.

(78) The women here were notably handsome and fine looking, so much so as to be the subject of remark among our soldiers to that effect. A little incident may be here pertinently given. There was an old colored woman in the town, who used to work for the boys. On one occasion there was an allusion by some of them, in her presence, to the fact that there was a general concurrence of opinion among both officers and men that the white women of Winchester were quite handsome. The old colored woman did not quite relish this compliment to the white women, and said that if they were handsome in appearance they were not pretty in disposition, adding, "Indeed, honey, they could just cut your hearts out." Perhaps it was not without reason that this negress entertained this opinion.

(79) There were more than 1,000 Rebel dead buried here, many of whom had been wounded at the Battle of Antietam, and died of their wounds at this place.

(80) This post was destined to be our winter quarters for the remainder of the winter. We spent the time here in guard, picket and fatigue duty, the latter duty being in part, work on the fortifications; and in drilling, target practice, and an occasional scout, filling in the interims growling, playing cards, corresponding, reading the papers, and occasionally talking on politics and disputing about the Emancipation Proclamation. Something about this last matter will be mentioned further along.

(81) The arrival of the mail was always looked forward to with especial anxiety and interest by the boys. So eager were they to hear the news from home, some of the men in some of the companies, who could not write, inducing others to help them in their efforts, so applied themselves to learning to write that they were enabled to do their own corresponding before the war was over. The army was in this particular, as well as in some others, a good school for some of the boys.

(82) Citizens used to come into camp at this place to sell pies, cakes, etc., to the soldiers, and the boys would sometimes cheat them shamefully. In one instance at least, a soldier passed a label taken from a bottle of Perry Davis's Pain-killer for money. Where a peddler of pies could not read and the boys paid in scrip they, in making change, would very likely take more money than they gave. It is not to be wondered at, in view of the simplicity and lack of intelligence on the part of many of the whites of the South, that they manifested the ignorance they did, implied in the question "What are you alls coming down here to fight we alls for?"

(83) Even the citizens of apparently general intelligence seemed to have very hazy ideas of the real nature of the war. On one occasion a lady of Winchester, who did not seem to be of the ignorant class, asked the question, "How long do you intend to carry on the war against us?" and when told that the war would be prosecuted until the people of the South submitted to the authority of the United States, she seemed to regard the idea with horror and repugnance, and as a thought not to be entertained for a moment, throwing up her hands and exclaiming "Oh! Oh!"

(84) Possibly this lady's conception of the war, and that of thousands of others in the South, was that it was a fight to satisfy a spite or grudge, and after a sufficient revenge should be taken the war would stop. They seemed to have very little idea of the deep devotion to the old flag, on the part of the Union soldiers, and the loyal citizens generally, that made them willing to stand by it at any sacrifice; and perhaps no understanding of the demands of the future welfare of the nation, requiring the maintenance of the Union, and appealing to all Unionists to fight the war to a successful issue, if it was among human possibilities.

(85) Our present occupancy of Winchester continued for three months. During that time little of important interest took place. The cavalry here had some brushes with the Rebel cavalry. On one or two occasions some Pennsylvania cavalry (either the Twelfth or Thirteenth) was sent down the valley from the direction of Strasburg, pell-mell into Winchester by the Rebel cavalry, some of the former, in one instance at least, losing their hats in their hasty retreat.

(86) A reference to a diary kept by one of the boys, under date of February 27th, says that on that day our cavalry had an engagement with the Rebel cavalry ten miles out on the Strasburg road, in which our force was rather worsted, losing about 200 men.

(87) During March we received some reinforcements, three regiments and a twelve-gun battery of Regulars. On March the 17th the voters of the West Virginia troops marched to the nearest point of that proposed State, to vote on the question of the adoption of the constitution.

(88) On the 27th we struck tents and marched to Berryville, about ten miles distant. This was a small town, on the road to Harpers Ferry, and near the Shenandoah River. Two days later two regiments, the Sixth Maryland and the Sixty-seventh Pennsylvania Infantry, reinforced us at this place.

(89) There were guerrillas, whose retreat was just across the Shenandoah River in the Blue Ridge, that were very bold and annoying at this place, frequently firing on the outposts. On the night of April 8th they captured two cavalry pickets and five horses of our command. On the night of the 21st a detail of 40 men under command of Lieut. David Powell of Company H, all of the Twelfth, crossed the river into Loudoun County, Virginia, and captured the desperate and dangerous Capt. Lapole and seven of his men of these daring guerrillas, bringing them in safe to camp as prisoners, receiving therefore the hearty thanks and commendation of the commander of the post at Berryville.

(90) A comrade tells the story of the capture as follows:

(91) While the Twelfth West Virginia Regiment lay at Berryville, Va., during the months of March and April, 1863, the pickets, outposts and reconnoitering parties were constantly annoyed and harassed by frequent attacks from guerrilla bands, under command of Capt. Lapole, a noted desperado belonging to Mosby's command. Quite a number of men had been killed by this Captain and his party. To capture them was no trifling undertaking.

(92) Lieut. David Powell of Company H had been made provost marshal of the command. In this position he had an opportunity to quiz and learn from all parties who came to his office the whereabouts of Capt. Lapole and his men. At length a negro man, name forgotten, came and wished a permit to buy some sugar and coffee of the post Sutler.

(93) On inquiry Lieut. Powell learned that he was from the east side of the Shenandoah River, where Capt. Lapole and his men always made their escape after making their attacks. At once the Lieut. suspected that the negro man had been sent to obtain the articles he desired, and took him into a back room to question him. The negro stoutly denied that he had been sent by Lapole or any of his men, but admitted that he knew Lapole and quite a number of his men, and after close questioning said that Capt. Lapole and seven of his men were at his master's home and would remain there for the night.

(94) At this Lieut. Powell told him if he would give such information as would lead to Capt. Lapole's capture he would give him $50. This was increased to $80 by Gen. Milroy. The negro at once acceded to the proposition, and agreed to join in the work of his capture, and admitted that Capt. Lapole and his men had sent him for the coffee and sugar. He was allowed to purchase his articles and return to his home, with the understanding that if Capt. Lapole and his men remained at his master's he would come to the eastern bank of the river and light three matches in succession. Then someone would cross the river and learn all the facts respecting Lapole and his men. At the appointed time the lights flashed across the river and Lieut. Wycoff of the First New York Cavalry crossed the river, and learned that Lapole and his men were there at his masters and would remain all night.

(95) Lieut. Powell accompanied by Lieut. Thos. H. Means of Company H, came to the river, and while there signals were displayed from an upper window of a farm house, which display Lieut. Powell with a part of his command, went to the house to put a stop to. On going to the house he found quite a number of the fair sex collected, and a bounteous supper prepared for the boys on the other side of the river.

(96) Lieut. Powell allowed his men to eat at the first table and then after giving strict orders that no lights should be exhibited from the house that night, he took from the house a negro guide and made for the river again. But on his return, Lieut. Means and his men could not be found, and no one dared to make a noise to call him.

(97) Presently he came across Lieut. Wycoff, who had secured a leaky old boat and was waiting for Lieut. Powell and his men. As soon as Lieut. Powell came he, Wycoff, told him what the negro had done and said. At once Lieut. Powell entered the boat with three other men—Samuel McDaniel and Harvey Haddox (the latter was afterward killed in the assault on battery Gregg, in front of Petersburg, Va.) as rowers of the boat. The other soldier was Elijah McIntosh, all of Company H, (McIntosh died at Winchester, October, 1864, from an overdose of morphine given him by a drunken doctor of the regiment.) Then the oarsmen returned and brought two others over until there were twenty-eight men in all on the east side of the river. With these twenty-eight men Lieut. Powell pushed on to where Lapole and his men were lodging for the night.

(98) McDaniel and Haddox took charge of the boat and started down the river, which was fearfully high and rabid, and the night was so dark that no one could see an object ten feet away. Thus three miles had to be traveled down the river, before coming to the house where the men sought, were to be found.

(99) Before reaching the house the chickens were crowing for day and already the dawn of light was beginning to show above the mountain height. (Blue Mountain.)

(100) The negro guide made a mistake and led to the wrong house, not more than four hundred yards away. The noise here in bursting open the door was loud, but fortunately not loud enough to waken the sentinel, who, not more than twenty minutes before had been permitted by his Captain to lie down and sleep, for he had announced the dawn of day and all quiet.

(101) Lieut. Powell had divided his men into two sections—the first, was to move on to the house, and then open order and quickly move around the house, so as to enclose it. The other section was to rush with all their force against the door, and if possible mash it in upon the men who were sleeping on the floor. The first crash, the door flew from its hinges and fell within upon the now frightened foe.

(102) Without firing a shot, the whole crew cried for quarter. A light was struck and just as the light flamed up, one of the men fled up a stair way. When pursued he was found close in by the side of a fat chubby girl who had been sleeping alone upstairs. When requested to come forth, he quickly obeyed and begged for quarter. The girl was heartily scared. Some of the men were for capturing her, but on closer view they decided that she was a woman and ought to be left to finish her morning nap.

(104) All the prisoners, Capt. Lapole and seven men were properly searched, their arms secured, and a rapid fall back upon the river was made, where the two men with their boat was in waiting. Lieut. Wycoff had also secured another boat.

(105) Lieut. Means and his men were on the other side; also, two pieces of artillery were planted to secure a safe crossing of the river, against an attack from Mosby and his men, who were only a mile or so distant.

(106) Lieut. Powell saw all his men and his prisoners safely across, then he the last of all, came across, having with his brave men, accompanied one of the most daring feats of the war. The crossing of the river alone, was one of the most perilous adventures one could undertake.

(107) After crossing the river, and forming his men, Lieut. Powell marched with his prisoners to Berryville, where he securely placed them in the county jail, under a vigilant guard. He and his men received the complimentary notice of Col. McReynolds, commanding post; of Gen. R. H. Milroy, commanding at Winchester, Va., and of Gen. Robert Schenck, who commanded the northern part of Virginia and of Maryland.

(108) Lapole, the morning after his capture, proposed that if he could be allowed fifty yards, and then a chance for escape, he would allow six or eight men to shoot at him. But when told there were that many men in the command who could kill a deer 100 yards running, he gave up the matter as a dangerous undertaking.

(109) He was afterward tried by a military court at Fort McHenry at Baltimore, and was sentenced to be hung, which sentence was executed on the 8th of May, 1864, one year and one month after his capture.

(110) The negro who informed, was literally shot to pieces afterward, by Lapole's comrades in their guerrilla warfare.

(111) The men who crossed the river and captured Lapole, did their duty nobly. Not one of them failing in a single duty assigned them.

(112) It was a mortification to Lieut. Means, that he did not get to cross the river and to share the danger with others.

(113) The men who participated in the capture of Lapole and his men, were largely volunteers from the several companies of the regiment. There was never any need of a detail when it was known that Lieut. Powell was to command.

(114) A company of the Twelfth, on the night of the twenty-ninth went out from camp a few miles to a house to capture some "bush-whackers" supposed to be there; but they failed to get any.

(115) In this connection may be told a little joke on Sergeant James Porter, who was of the detachment. There was a beautiful girl at the house, whom the sergeant got to see, and with whose beauty he was it seemed, much impressed. It appeared that the matter rested upon his mind; and the next day, though a quiet man, he referred to her beauty in evident admiration, saying, "Boys that was a mighty pretty girl that we saw last night, and I have a notion to go back there."

(116) Our stay at Berryville now May ninth, came to a close. The regiment at this date received orders to proceed to Clarksburg, W. Va., to protect that place, which was threatened with an attack by a rebel force under Gen. Jones, who was raiding the country about there generally.

(117) We started on our march to Clarksburg in the afternoon, to go by way of Harpers Ferry to take the cars there, to the former place. We marched through that old town of Charlestown, W. Va., near Harpers Ferry, which old town is destined to be historic, and a noted place for long years to come, because of its association with the name of John Brown, of Osawatomie, whose memory is world-wide. As showing the extent of the name and fame of John Brown, an incident is here given in substance, as related some years ago by the late Thomas Hughes, "Tom Brown of Rugby," then ex-member of parliament.

(118) It was after our late Civil War that he, Thomas Hughes, was one day walking along in London, not far from London bridge, when he heard a sound of voices that arrested his attention. He listened and soon discovered that the sound proceeded from a regiment of British soldiers crossing the bridge singing, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the tomb," etc. In writing about this occurrence he indulged in this reflection. That when such men as he should be forgotten, the name of John Brown would still be remembered.

(119) It was perhaps between nine and ten o'clock at night—that night in May—when we passed through the old town. The lights were out, the streets deserted, the citizens apparently had retired for the night; and the town seemed wrapped in slumber. There was nothing to disturb the quiet of the night, and the solemn stillness of all about, but the monotonous tramp, tramp of the soldiers as they marched; when suddenly the quiet was broken; Company A, at the head of the regiment struck up the song of "John Brown," and other companies taking it up soon all were singing.

(120) Pretty soon windows were hoisted, shutters were thrown open and lights flashed out on the streets. It seemed as if the citizens of the old town were startled! Possibly they thought the spirit of John Brown had come back from the spirit world to haunt them.

(121) A few years before the soldiers of Virginia was here to see that John Brown should be hanged, that human servitude in the land might be made more secure. Then the moral atmosphere of our land was murky with greed, selfishness and prejudice. Men's understandings were perverted; they called wrong right, and preached it as a holy thing. It was almost true, that he had no friend, that dared proclaim the fact, and that none were so poor as to do him reverence. Then, too, there were distant rumblings of a coming storm, but the cloud on the horizon was no larger than a man's hand.

(122) Today the storm of war had burst upon the land with threatening fury. The whole country was turned into a field of war. There were other soldiers on duty now. They were fighting to maintain the Union of their fathers, "shouting the battle cry of freedom," and every step they took was leading to the doom of slavery.

(123) The thunder and lightning of war was clearing the moral atmosphere. Men saw things differently now; and while the men of the old Twelfth, like many others, gave a sort of superficial disapproval of the conduct of John Brown, deep down in their hearts, in these perilous times which were anew trying men's souls, they felt an admiration for the old hero who died bravely, in an insane attempt to free from bondage a despised race; and hence, they sang with gusto the John Brown war song, as they marched through that town in the Valley which will suggest his name for generations to come.

(124) Considering the wonderful contrast between the spectacle of this regiment's then singing the battle hymn whose refrain is, "But His Soul Goes Marching On," and that which was to be seen there only a few years before, the incident was a most extraordinary and impressive one.

(125) On the eleventh, we arrived to within five miles of Clarksburg, where the enemy had destroyed a railroad bridge. We got off the cars here, got our dinner and marched the same day to Clarksburg. The Rebel Gen. Jones made no attack on the place. During this stay at this place, Mr. Nathaniel Wells, of Brooke county, brought tickets out from Hancock county, for the soldiers of the latter to vote.

(126) We remained at this place doing picket duty, and drilling nearly every day, with nothing particular occurring, until June second, when we had orders to march, taking a freight train for Grafton on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, where we were paid on that day two months pay. The next morning we took the cars at this place for Martinsburg, arriving there the following night; and in the morning following, we started on the march up the Valley Pike for Winchester, more than "Twenty miles away" arriving on the fifth at that place. We camped on the southwest of the town. Here at this time we drew shelter tents. This appeared like getting down to business—looked like stripping for a fight.

CHAPTER IV.

(127) The time for the taking place of important events was approaching. The near future was pregnant with events for the Twelfth; the time for the battle of Winchester under Gen. Milroy was not far off. And an important crisis for the entire nation in the progress of the war was almost at hand, involving the welfare of the country and the better interests of mankind generally; for the battle of Gettysburg, the greatest battle of the war, and the greatest battle ever fought on American soil—a battle which is now regarded as the turning point of the war, was about to be fought.

(128) We had now been in the service for nearly ten months and the regiment, as a whole, had never been in an engagement. We sometimes wondered whether we should ever get into a battle. It is safe to say that most of the boys were anxious to see, at least, one fight; and some of them were want to say somewhat boastfully, that they were "spoiling for a fight." Any doubts, however, as to whether we were to see a battle were soon to be dispelled; and the desire to see one, or to be engaged in it, was destined to be more than satisfied, at a later period.

(129) "Coming events cast their shadows before." There are frequently harbingers of future occurrences; but the difficulty is to measure their significance, and to know what is best to do in view of them. There began to be signs of a coming conflict in this field of operations. The next day after our return to this place we had orders to lie on our arms the succeeding night; and the next night. Sunday, the seventh, at 10 o'clock three companies, D, E, and I, were sent out on the Strasburg road to reinforce the picket there. The three companies stayed out till morning, when they returned to camp. Two days later the situation was becoming more threatening. Companies F, I, C, and H, under command of Col. Northcott were ordered out to support, at night, a section of artillery, which at the time was placed in position every night to be ready in case of an attack.

(130) In the morning, no enemy having appeared, the four companies returned to camp. This day, the eleventh, Major Pierpont gave us a farewell address, he having resigned as mayor, to accept the office of adjutant general of West Virginia. He left much to the regret of the Twelfth, being a general favorite.

(131) The bloody ordeal of a general battle for the whole command was just now at hand. The next day the Eighty-seventh Pennsylvania with some cavalry and artillery went out the Strasburg road five miles, and ambushing a force of Rebel cavalry, they killed and wounded some fifty of them, and captured about forty prisoners without the loss of a man of the Eighty-seventh. The boys of that regiment came back in good spirits saying, that they had "skunked them."

(132) That night four companies of the Twelfth were again ordered to support a battery. They returned from doing that duty at 7 o'clock next morning; but before they got their breakfast, the whole regiment was ordered into line. After standing in line for awhile, we got orders to fill our canteens with water and get one day's rations in our haversacks; and about 11 o'clock we marched out on the Strasburg road. At the same time, cannonading commenced on our left, which told us the battle was on.

(133) We changed our position several times until we got into a piece of woods. Here we were ordered to take off and pile up our knapsacks, which we did. The Rebels were advancing a heavy skirmish line in front; and soon were heard those peculiar sounds, the whistling of the minnie-balls, to which the men afterward became quite accustomed. So unaccustomed were they to the whistling sounds, that they began to question among themselves as to what they were, some saying that they were the sounds of flying bullets; others that they were not. An officer hearing the talk said: "Boys those are bullets as sure as you live." This assurance together with the increasing frequency of the sounds, settled the matter in their minds; and they never afterward had any doubts as to what it was, when they heard the whistle of bullets.

(134) We opened on the advancing enemy, and for about an hour we kept up a heavy fire. We held the Rebels in check in our front. After a while Adjt. Caldwell reporting that the enemy was flanking us on our right, Company A, under command of Lieut. Burley was ordered to form a skirmish line, and move to that flank to protect it. The force there, however, moving against us was too heavy to be kept back by one company of skirmishes; so the Colonel ordered us to fall back behind a small creek which position we held till dark.

(135) When we retired from the woods to the creek, the Colonel marched us to the rear by file, instead of in line of battle, which latter order under the circumstances, military tactics, it is taken, would demand. We filed off the field by the left flank, and in doing so the right had to march the length of the regiment before gaining a step to the rear. It was while thus marching to the point of filing left to the rear, Lieut. Bradley, of Company I, was shot dead. We left our knapsacks in the woods, where we had unslung them. They, of course, fell into the hands of the Johnnys, who, no doubt, examined them with a good deal of interest. This, our first engagement, was the only one in which we met with anything like a general loss of equipments.

(136) Col. Curtis, then Captain of Company D, used to tell this anecdote concerning this day's fighting. There was an Irishman in his company whose name was Tommy Burke, who, like his nationality in general, was quick-witted and humorous. During the fighting in the woods the hammer was shot off his gun, and about the same time he missed his haversack, Tommy believed—no doubt correctly—that it had been shot away too. Being thus completely knocked out as it were, he turned to the Captain saying, with reference principally, it is presumed to the loss of his haversack, "Captain, Captain, the bloody Rebels have cut ahff my supplies."

(137) After dark we fell back from the creek to a stone wall at the outskirts of town, when it began pouring down rain in torrents. At 2 o'clock in the morning, Sunday the 14th, we marched up into the fortifications, remaining there till 7 o'clock. At this time while in the fortifications, Lieut. Melvin of Company I, arrived from home, showing that the rear was still open till near that Sunday morning, at least.

(138) Our regiment was the first to go out of the fortifications that morning. We took a position behind a stone wall between the Strasburg and Romney roads, and about a mile from the main fort, which we held till ordered back. A little later two companies as skirmishers took position behind the stone wall we had just left. The left wing was held in reserve, while the right supported a battery placed at about 900 yards from the Rebel lines.

(139) In front of this battery off to the southwest the Johnnys were behind a stone wall. Our artillery did some very accurate shooting, knocking several holes in the wall behind which the Johnnys were, causing them, when the wall was struck, to scatter in a lively manner, and thus affording for the time being, at least, great sport for our boys, though they were quite worn out from want of sleep, having had little or none the night before. Occasional shots from the enemy reached this battery. It was one of these that struck and killed Lieut. Beugough of Company F, who was lying sleeping at the time, being overcome by want of sleep.

(140) About 5 o'clock P.M. the whole regiment advanced to the stone wall. A half hour later the Rebels opened a tremendous fire with their artillery, which heretofore, during the day had been quiet, on our fortifications. The whole force then fell back to the forts, the Rebels having shortly before this captured battery L, of the Regulars. Thus practically ended this day's fighting. However, our siege guns replied to the Rebel guns till about night, the roar of our heavy guns being deafening.

(141) The Rebel artillery fire came from a ridge southwest of our forts, and was directed seemingly to the flag staff of the main fort; and when Gen. Milroy climbed the flag staff, as he did, in order to get a view of the Rebel batteries, it may be, or to note the effect of our fire, the boys cheered him lustily.

(142) Greeley in the American Conflict says in regard to this capture of Winchester by the Rebels, that our men took a prisoner Saturday night the 13th, "who rather astonished Milroy by the information that he belonged to Ewell's corps; and that Longstreet's also was just at hand—the two numbering about 50,000 men."

(143) In regard to the operations of the next day, Sunday, 14th, he says that at 4 P.M. they (the Rebels) made a charge up the Front Royal road to the edge of town, but were repulsed. A little later they opened fire from two eight-gun batteries on the northwest, hardly a mile from town; and forthwith Ewell's infantry swept up to and over our breast works, disregarding the fire of our guns, driving out the 110th Ohio with heavy loss, and planting their colors on our defenses. Meantime, the city had been substantially invested on every side, and was now virtually lost; though an attempt to storm the main fort from the position first gained was repulsed.

(144) Referring to the foregoing alleged attempt to storm the main fort, if there was any made, it was after dark. It is remembered that there was heavy firing from the fort, on the northwest side, as though the enemy was making an attack, but it never seemed quite clear that he was, as it was so dark at the time that an object could be seen but a short distance.

(145) At 1 o'clock A.M. Monday, 15th, Milroy held a council of war which decided to evacuate our force of all arms being only 10,000, and not all of it effective, against a corps of 25,000 and more if necessary. The artillery was spiked, the harness cut up, the axles and wheels sawed to pieces, and at 2 o'clock, the whole command began moving out to evacuate the fort, the soldiers hastily breaking some boxes of crackers (conveniently placed for the purpose) with the butts of their muskets, and putting some of the crackers in their haversacks, as they marched out.

(146) We started on the road leading to Martinsburg. A mile or two from the fort, Gen. Milroy rode along the road past the men telling them to push along; that he wanted to get as far out the road as possible before daylight. The Twelfth was somewhere about the middle of the line. Four miles from Winchester our advance was attacked by a division of Rebels holding the road in our front. It was at this time just breaking day. There was very heavy firing for about a half hour—heavier than at any time during the two proceeding days.

(147) We were halted when fighting began in our front; and stood in line seemingly waiting on orders, but none coming we filed to the left of the pike, and started in the direction of North Mountain. It was just here where we left the pike, that Lieut. Col. Northcott, getting separated from the regiment, was captured. We encountered no enemy until we got to the base of the mountain several miles distant. Here we were fired upon by some Rebel cavalry, from a road running along the base of the mountain. Company A, being at the head of the regiment opened fire in return upon the Johnnys, pouring it in briskly, and they soon got out of the way. We had now got outside of the Rebel ring. None of our men were hit at this place.

(148) The One Hundred and Sixteenth Ohio, the First New York cavalry and the Twelfth West Virginia, were the only regiments that came out of the fight retaining their organizations. We lost no men as prisoners except those who had in some way got separated from the regiment; though our loss in prisoners was considerable, about 200. Among these were, Lieut. Col. Northcott, Asst. Surgeon, F. H. Patton, and Lieut. Henry F. Anshultz. Among the killed were, Lieut. Thomas W. Bradley of Company I, and Lieut. John T. Beugough of Company F; and among the wounded was Lieut. James R. Dunham of Company E.

(149) This fight at Winchester was a disastrous one for the Union cause. Milroy lost between 3,000 and 4,000 men, all his artillery and some 400 wagons, the troops coming out of it, retaining their organizations, had only their small arms.

(150) It was an opinion entertained by many of Milroy's men, that this disaster to our arms was largely compensated for, by the alleged fact that his stubborn resistance at Winchester had so detained Lee in his invasion of Pennsylvania, that Hooker and Meade were the better enabled to concentrate their forces to protect Washington and meet him in battle. There is seemingly not much in this view; for it was only a part of Lee's army that was detained; the bulk of it kept moving on, not being detained, in the least, by Milroy. Days after his rout the enemy was still on the road south of Winchester, marching down the Valley, as will appear further along.

(151) It was more than two weeks after Milroy's defeat that the battle of Gettysburg was fought. He could have got out his entire command, if he had started one day sooner. Considering the length of time after the defeat, before the battle of Gettysburg took place, this detention of the advance of Lee's army for only one day longer than was consistent with his escape, was of not very great importance. Greeley says, "Milroy's great mistake was holding on just one day too long—his communications with Schenck and Halleck having already been served." This will doubtless be the verdict of history. It was for this blunder and its consequences, evidently, that he was relieved from command of his army.

(152) Going back a little, Col. Curtis tells this story about Lieut. Phil Bier of Company A, in reference to our being fired upon by the Rebels at the foot of North Mountain. When our men began returning the fire, some one shouted, "You are shooting the cattle." Lieut. Bier replied, "D——n it! whoever heard of cattle shooting—give it to them boys."

(153) In this connection it is proper to speak of the conduct of Sergt. Henry Spear, of Company D, at this time. When we were fired upon, some of the boys, not knowing, of course, the strength of the enemy, and being taken by surprise, began shying off to one side of the road into the woods. Sergt. Spear, however, walked toward the Johnnys, so as to get a good view; and spying a fellow behind a fence, took deliberate aim at him and fired. He got from behind the fence quickly. Spear had unknowingly exchanged guns with a comrade at night in the fortifications. He insisted that if he had had his own gun, he would have shot the Johnny.

(154) In closing any reference to the fighting of our regiment at this battle of Winchester, it is but simple justice to say that the manner in which Company B, acquitted itself on the first day's engagement, as skirmishers, called forth deserved praise.

(155) Here is an incident of our retreat copied almost verbatim from an old letter written at the time, well worthy of a place. After we had driven off the cavalry at the foot of the mountain, and were ascending it along a road, through a sort of defile, near the top a girl of some fourteen or fifteen years, barefooted, bareheaded, her hair hanging loosely down over her shoulders came out from a humble, unpretentious dwelling near by, and with a coolness and confidence calculated, under the circumstances, to excite admiration, inquired for the Colonel telling him that she thought it best to not take the road he was on; that she had heard that the Rebels held it at the point where it intersected the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, about 35 miles distant; and when inquiry was made of her as to whether she could show us another route that was open, she said that she thought she could.

(156) When the Colonel told her that we would burn their house if she deceived us intentionally, and got us to take a road on which we would be intercepted by the Rebels, she showed no alarm, and was not in the least disconcerted. She went with us about four miles along a path on the mountain crest, where we had to walk in single file. Striking another road here, she left us. Before she left, however, each of several officers gave her some money.

(157) This young heroine talked very rapidly—was not bold, but had a simple confidence—and was not a bit afraid of the soldiers. Her hair was blonde, her forehead high, she was intellectual in appearance, and had native beauty of person. This mountain maid needed only a little polish to make her highly attractive. It is to be hoped that she never had to suffer at the hands of the Rebels for giving aid and comfort to the enemy. The soldiers of the Twelfth who met her that morning on the mountain will long remember her.

(158) We continued our retreat in a somewhat northerly direction, camping at night in the mountain. At about midnight we renewed our march and in the forenoon of the next day, crossed the Potomac into Maryland, at a placed called Millstone point, wading the stream. Passing on up the river five miles farther we reached Hancock on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad about noon. The men, of course, by this time were much exhausted from two or three days' fighting, little sleep since the fight began three days before, little to eat for the last day or two, and hard marching. It is believed that the men generally, got something to eat here.

(159) The One Hundred and Sixteenth Ohio, which arriving on another road, and portions of the First New York, and Twelfth Pennsylvania cavalry, with some stragglers from various commands, joined us at this place. Scouts reporting that some Rebel cavalry coming from the direction of Martinsburg were going to receive them; but no attack was made however. We stayed here till 10 o'clock at night, when we marched to Little New Orleans, eighteen miles distant, arriving there sometime the next day. We expected to take the car here for Cumberland, Md., but no cars came.

(160) We waited here till dark, when Col. Washburn of the One Hundred and Sixteenth Ohio, receiving a dispatch from the colonel of the First New York, that the enemy held Cumberland, we went a little back on a hill and camped for the night in some woods. Having got some coffee, meat and flour at Little New Orleans we managed to make out of these articles a slim breakfast in the morning, and began our march for Bloody Run, Pa., about thirty-five miles distant, arriving there the 19th.

(161) When we got into Pennsylvania we struck a new atmosphere. If hitherto, when we were in the so-called Confederacy there was always a feeling present, that we were out of our country, we now felt that we were once more in the land of the "stars and stripes," the United States of America. The people all along the road gave us a hearty welcome, and freely gave us food. There was no danger of being bush-whacked here, if you should chance to become separated from your command.

(162) When we arrived at Bloody Run, we met Gen. Milroy there. This meeting was the first knowledge we had, that he had escaped from Winchester. He proceeded to reorganize his command, but was soon relieved because of his disastrous defeat. The members of the Twelfth generally, regretted very much to part with their brave old commander, who was familiarly known in his command as the "Old Grey Eagle," as he was a general favorite with them. They felt that he had been harshly dealt with, considering that the last order he had received from Gen. Schenck at Baltimore, commander of the department, communication being soon thereafter cut off was to "hold the place until further orders." They thought that his fault, if it was such, was in too literally obeying orders.

(163) Col. Pierce of the Twelfth Pennsylvania cavalry being the senior of the officers present, took command of the remnant of Milroy's demoralized force after Milroy was relieved of his command; and Col. Plunk of the Twelfth West Virginia, was put in command of the infantry. We remained at Bloody Run till the 30th, when we marched to Bedford, Pa., starting in the morning and passing up the Juniata river, we arrived here about 1 o'clock P.M. of that day. Here we drew blankets and clothing the first after leaving Winchester.

(164) We stayed at Bedford till July 3rd, when we had orders to march starting in the direction of Gettysburg, but too late to participate in the battle that was then going on there. We passed through Bloody Run and Connellsburg, arriving at London, Franklin county, the 5th, making a distance of about forty-five miles. Somewhere on the road perhaps on the 4th, we got of a daily paper of the date of July 3rd, which gave a vague, indefinite, unsatisfactory mention of the battle, taking place at Gettysburg; which, of course, made us exceedingly anxious for more news.

(165) Most of the infantry went on six miles farther to Mercersburg to meet 200 or 300 of our cavalry who had captured a Rebel train of wagons, with the guards, hauling wounded and plunder to the crossing of the Potomac at Williamsport, Md. There were 110 wagons and ambulances, and about 600 prisoners, half of whom were wounded in this capture. The wagons were loaded up with quartermaster's stores, and all kinds of plunder of which they had robbed the people on their invasion. There were several thousand dollars worth of fine cloths, cassimeres, silks, and etc., in whole bolts in this plunder.

(166) Hospitals were established at Mercersburg, and the Rebel wounded were cared for. They were in a horrible condition, having been there from three to five days without having had their wounds dressed. The next day the infantry returned to London bringing back the unwounded prisoners, about 300 in number, and the wagons and etc. The wagons, ambulances and stolen goods were turned over to the quartermaster's department.

(167) We remained at London until the 13th, when we were ordered at 3 o'clock A.M., to prepare one day's rations and get ready to march. We started at 6 o'clock A.M., marching through Mercersburg and Greencastle, we reached Hagerstown, Md., the next day. Passing through the town, we camped about two miles south of it in the middle of the afternoon, having marched thirty-two miles.

(168) The battle of Gettysburg had been fought, the Rebels had met "a bitter crushing defeat," and "the Army of the Potomac had won a clean, honest, acknowledged victory." Lee's army had retreated as far as the Potomac; but when it reached there it found its pontoons gone, they having been destroyed by some of our forces, sent up from Harpers Ferry for that purpose and the river was so high from recent rains that it could not be forded. Lee was compelled to halt until he could restore his means of crossing. In the meantime the Army of the Potomac had come up and was again facing its old enemy. Gen. Meade, however, was hesitating to make an attack, when he received orders from Washington to do so, and accordingly he would have attacked the Rebels the day, the 14th, we of the remnant of Milroy's army passed through Hagerstown in the vicinity of which place the two armies confronted each other; but on the previous night, Lee got his army across the river; not however, without considerable loss, Kilpatrick having, after a sharp engagement, captured 1,500 of the Rebel rearguard. If there had been a battle there, as Meade expected, it is more than probable that the Twelfth would have been on the ground in time to have engaged in it.

(169) Here is an anecdote of Lee's invasion of Pennsylvania, heard at the time of his retreat, that should not be lost. A Rebel officer, as Lee was marching north through the state stopped at a private house for some purpose. The woman of the house with some curiosity asked him where they were going, which presumably, he did not know, and would not have told if he had known. But he replied, "We are going to Boston." The woman said to him, "You'll get 'Boston' before you get back."

(170) When Lee's army was retreating the same officer stopped at the same house and reminded the woman that he had stopped there before, saying to her, "Madam, I have just called to say that we got 'Boston.'"

(171) The next day after Lee crossed the Potomac, the First Corps of the Army of the Potomac passed our camp en route to Harpers Ferry. They had been on the go marching and fighting for about a month, with no time to do any washing or to get new clothes; and, of course, they were covered with dust and dirt, and were hard looking generally. A large part of Milroy's men had new uniforms and were pretty bright and clean looking, and the First Corps boys tantalizingly called us Sunday soldiers.

(172) The Sixteenth, we of Milroy's late command, marched to Sharpsburg, Md., ten miles distant. Some time during the latter part of July, while we were at Sharpsburg, Capt. W. B. Curtis of Company D, received his commission as major of the regiment, to rank as such from June 17th, 1863.

(173) This vicinity is Maj. Curtis's birth place, having been born here April 18th, 1821. He migrated from here in 1827 to West Virginia. He recognized the old log house in which he was born. It was pierced with cannon balls in several places during the battle of Antietam. He met several of his relatives who were loyal and made him welcome, while we remained here.

(174) Maj. Curtis on the receipt of his commission was immediate put in command of the regiment, as the Lieutenant Colonel was still held a prisoner of war, and the Colonel was in command of a brigade. For more than two weeks we remained at this old village, which is indeed, a very old one apparently; there being one or more old-style churches in it gone into disuse, and tumbling down. It is historically interesting too, as being the scene of the bloodiest battle (at the date of it) ever fought on American soil, the battle of Antietam; and is today the site of one of the great National Soldiers cemetery.

(175) On August 4th, we were ordered to Martinsburg, W. Va. We started in the morning and marched to Harpers Ferry, a distance of ten miles, took the cars there which carried us to within two miles of Martinsburg, they being prevented from going any further by reason of the railroad's having been torn up by the enemies, got out of the cars when they stopped and marched the rest of the way to town in the evening and camped for the night.

(176) In the morning we moved our camp to a pretty lawn of some five acres at the edge of town, filled with fine young shade trees, the property of the Hon. Chas. James Faulkner, who held in all about 800 acres of valuable land adjacent to town. As the weather was very warm we wanted to camp on this lawn to get the benefit of the shade there. No doubt our doing so was not altogether agreeable to Mrs. Faulkner and daughters who still occupied the fine mansion at the rear of the lawn. But as Mr. Faulkner had seen fit to join his fortune with that of the Rebellion, it was hardly any part of our business to be consulting his interests, or the wishes of his household, though Mrs. Faulkner used to claim to be a good Union woman. She protested that she was such, to the Union soldiers, at least, fortifying this claim on one occasion, by saying that she "would not give a cent for a woman that did not have a mind of her own—would you?" Subsequent events seemed to show that the lady did protest too much.

(177) Martinsburg at this time was a thrifty town of several thousand inhabitants, situated in the Shenandoah Valley on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, and was noted for the general loyalty of its inhabitants. There was always an air of welcome to us about the place.

CHAPTER V.

(178) Col. Klunk during the time the regiment was straggling about in the Cumberland Valley, sent in his resignation, upon the plea of sickness in his family, and while stationed at Martinsburg he received notice that it had been accepted. This left the regiment with Major Curtis as the only field officer with it, Lieut. Col. Northcott being still a prisoner.

(179) Our regiment remained on the Faulkner lawn until the 25th, when we moved our camp to the northwest side of the town, where the other troops were encamped. We stayed at Martinsburg about two and a half months. While we were here Quartermaster Gen. Meigs inspected the troops at this place. Also while at this place there was a grand parade and review of the troops on the occasion of the presentation of a flag to the First New York Cavalry. Col. McReynolds of that regiment making on that occasion a short speech.

(180) September 25th, fifty men of the regiment were detailed to cook rations for the troops passing from the Army of the Potomac to Gen. Grant's army at Chattanooga. The next day part of the Eleventh Corps passed through by rail going to join Grant. The next day after that, Gen. Howard, commander of the Eleventh Corps, passed over the railroad following his troops. A salute was fired in his honor as he passed. One day later some more troops from the Army of the Potomac (part of the Twelfth Corps) followed on after the others.

(181) While we were at this point a considerable number of the boys of the Twelfth got furloughs. Pertinent to the subject of furloughs may be mentioned here an incident of the many illustrating the humors of camp life. There were two brothers in Company I, Van and Tom. While we were in Pennsylvania during Lee's invasion of that state, Van became sick and we left him behind on leaving there; and during our stay at Martinsburg Tom, not having heard from Van, and not knowing whether he was alive or not, became uneasy about him. So he made an application to get a furlough to go to hunt his brother up; but he failed to get it. Some days after this Tom, it seemed, had been in too close proximity to some fellow who had been looking on the wine, when it was red (or something of that kind) getting a sniff perhaps of his breath, and Tom's sensibilities were somewhat aroused. In this condition Tom got to thinking about the case of Van, and becoming somewhat desperate he said that he was going to apply again for a furlough to hunt him up. Adding that if he did not get one he would go anyhow. "I'm going by thunder," said he, "I don't care if the war stops!"

(182) It happened that Tom's second application failed. He thought better of it, and concluded that he would not go without a furlough and the war went on. It should be said that in due time Van returned to the regiment.

(183) Referring to a diary kept by one of the boys of the Twelfth, it is seen that a number of prisoners was captured "near North Mountain" on October 16th. These are doubtless the prisoners referred to by Maj. Bristor, then Captain of Company H, in the following account, after his first telling about the capture of a Rebel captain, a spy.

(184) I was in command of the post at Kearneysville, Jefferson county, West Virginia, for about two months during the summer and fall of '63. While in command at that post a loyal citizen came to my headquarters about 11 o'clock one night and informed me that the Rebel spy Capt. Anderson was at a farm house some three miles distant, and near Col. Porterfield's house. I at once had sixteen of my men wake up, and called for two men to volunteer to go on a very hazardous expedition. To my surprise the entire sixteen volunteered to go. I was not very much surprised, however, for my men were always ready for duty when called upon.

(185) I selected two of the youngest of the Sixteenth, whose names I believe were James P. Murphy and William Watkins, I then started these two men directing them to follow the citizen to the house where Anderson was, about a mile beyond our outer pickets. The men were told by their guide that he thought Anderson was in a certain room. The two brave young soldiers carefully and quietly worked their way into the room, up to the bed where Anderson was sleeping, and demanded his surrender, before he knew a Union soldier of a soul was near him. They forbade his speaking a word above a low whisper, at the risk of his life. They took him out of the house without ever waking the family, and brought him to my quarters about 3 o'clock in the morning.

(186) When they awoke me I questioned the prisoner who was represented to me as a Rebel spy, and he claimed to be a private citizen from London county Virginia, and said that he was coming the next day to give himself up. I asked him why he would give himself up if he was a private citizen. He replied that he had got a Yankee suit from a friend and he thought that he had better come and tell me about it for fear that he might be taken for a spy or something.

(187) But he was identified by citizens of that county (Jefferson) as a spy, whose name was Anderson. I sent him to Martinsburg, and turned him over to Col. McReynolds, who was then in command at that point. He sent him to Fort McHenry where he (Anderson) was tried, and, I have been informed hanged.

(188) A few nights after this, one of the "Louisiana Tigers," who had been disbanded on account of their officers not being able to do anything with them, was strolling about through the country foraging and etc., and finally got caught in the dark, and when at a house near that of Col. Porterfield, in which neighborhood Maj. Gilmore was camped, he inquired the way to his camp. The lady being a Union woman, directed him right towards my camp. He came to my outerpickets, and one of them came into camp with him talking all the time as if he, the picket, was a Rebel. A corporal by the name of A. H. Hull, brought him in.

(189) As soon as the Rebel came to my quarters, everything being rather gloomy and dark, he thought he knew my voice, calling me Captain, taking me for a Rebel captain. I talked to him and asked him if he had not been lost, and he said he had and impressed his delight in getting back to camp, for he wanted to go the next night on that expedition to blow up Back Creek bridge "and send a lot of Yankees to hell," expecting by blowing up the bridge to cause the Baltimore and Ohio railroad train to pitch headlong into the creek, as it thundered along, with all on board unconscious of their danger, and thus cause great loss of life. I told him that I would see that he should go.

(190) This Rebel was somewhat intoxicated and gave the whole thing away. Just as I finished telling him that he should go along with the party, the 4 o'clock train from the east blew its whistle. The prisoner laughed, and said he knew he was in the hands of the Yankees, but thought he would see how much he could fool them or draw them on. I said, "all right my good fellow you have drawn us on and we shall draw Maj. Gilmore on."

(191) He told me during the conversation that Gilmore was to take thirty men and he was to be one of them and blow up Back Creek bridge. I placed him under close guard, and soon as daylight came I sent a message to Col. McReynolds giving him all the essential details of the foregoing account, and asked him to send a detachment of men sufficient to capture Gilmore's men; requesting him also to send an officer of the Twelfth West Virginia regiment in charge of the detachment; and if my memory serves me rightly, he sent Capt. Moffatt, of Company G.

(192) Our men got to the bridge about two hours before Gilmore's band came and were secreted or in ambush, when they arrived and began to drill holes in the abutments of the bridge. At this our men hollowered out, "What are you doing there, you Rebel sons of b——h's?" They surrendered to our men. The captures were four lieutenants, twenty-five men, and thirty-one horses. Major Gilmore it seems, had stayed at a neighboring house to get something to eat, and his orderly or adjutant was there also. So we captured all that were at the bridge. Lieut. Billings of Shepherdstown, W. Va., was one of the prisoners.

(193) The First New York Cavalry reported this capture, and their regiment got the credit of it, when not a man of that organization, except one, who went along as a messenger or orderly, was in the party making the capture.

(194) During the latter part of September going back a little, the Eighty-Seventh Pennsylvania, the One Hundred and Twenty-Second and the One Hundred and Twenty-Third Ohio regiments, at this point, were ordered to join the Army of the Potomac. The Eighty-Seventh had been in the same command with the Twelfth for about a year. There had always been a friendly feeling between the two regiments, so the night before the former left for the Army of the Potomac, some of the boys from it came over to bid our boys good-bye—and it was good-bye forever for some in either command.

(195) The election for governor of Ohio was soon to take place, and the Eighty-Seventh boys having learned that a considerable number of the above named Ohio troops, say a tenth, were going to vote for Valandigham for governor, were not at all pleased that they should do so. One of the Eighty-Seventh apparently having been indulging in a little strong drink, was especially vehement against those Ohio boys so disposed to vote. He threatened what the boys of his regiment would do in case they were to remain here, and those Ohio boys should so vote, not knowing that the Ohio troops alluded to were, as well as his own regiment ordered to the Army of the Potomac. He urged our boys to use violent means against any of the Ohio boys at this point, who should vote for Valandigham for governor. This hostility toward those disposed to vote for him, was because of his political cause with respect to the war and its prosecution.

(196) Our boys by this time had become substantially a unit in sentiment so far as the political war policy of the administration was concerned. All wrangling concerning it had ceased. And right here may be given a strikingly significant and truthful observation, made perhaps not far from this time, by Lieut. Blaney, of Company D, showing the rapid evolution of ideas, the swift progress and revolution of the sentiment of the time and more especially the potent virtue of the knock down argument, to which class of dispution, war preeminently belongs. Because of the justice, truth and significance of this remark, it should not be omitted from this record, imperfect though it must necessarily be.

(197) In conversation Lieut. Blaney observed: "I have noticed that our boys have never objected to the Emancipation proclamation since being in a battle." This remark was true, it is believed, without an exception.

(198) If the war had never come these soldiers many of them, would doubtless never have been convinced of the justifiableness of emancipation in that contingency. But being brought into battle, and thus required to do as best they might, what they could do to settle the issues involved by the knock down argument in its last and dire extremity—the employment of the bludgeon of war; and seeing their comrades falling around them, light quickly struck in on their minds with a telling force. The conversion was as sudden it seems, as that of Paul spoken of in the scriptures. They suddenly saw, in this death struggle, that anything that the enemy was opposed to; that whatever would tend to weaken or cripple him; that any means justified by civilized warfare to conquer the enemy they should favor and employ; and hence the prejudice, the tradition and the education of years were swept away as if by a flash of lightning, when the ordeal of battle came. There was no longer on the part of the boys any considerate regard for the interests of the enemy, nor any further objection to the emancipation of the negroes.

(199) Another incident of the war illustrating how fast men learned during the war, may as well as not be given here, although it occurred at a later period. Adjt. G. B. Caldwell, in a conversation one day regarding the employment of negroes as soldiers said: "When I went into the service at first I thought that it would be a humiliation and disgrace to me if I had to serve in an army where negro soldiers were employed;" but now, said he, "I have come to the conclusion that they have as good right to be killed as I."

(200) It is very probable that Adjt. Caldwell might have spent all his days, if the times had been peaceful, without ever having changed his views in regard to the matter of making soldiers of negroes, although he is a man of quick perception. But just as it is said of men in a drowning condition that all the events of their past lives come quickly before them; so in time of war and the peril of battle, men's minds are quickened, common-sense asserts itself and men perceive quickly the wisdom or unwisdom of that which in the piping times of peace, they would not see at all.

(201) On September 28th, we were paid two months' pay, this being $13 per month for the privates, or $26 for the two months. This was always a welcome event with the soldiers. They had money now to spend with the sutler; but their money did not go far in buying from him. Canned peaches were, if not just at this time, later in the war $1.25 and tomatoes $1.00 per can.

(202) While we were here at Martinsburg, the boys or many of them, who were taken as prisoners at Winchester, a few months before, were returned to the regiment, being ordered by the government to take up arms again, although they had been let out of prison only on parole, and not exchanged. This action was taken by the authorities at Washington in retaliation for the conduct of the Rebel authorities in putting the prisoners taken and paroled by Gen. Grant at Vicksburg, back into the field again, without their having been exchanged.

(203) While the boys of the Twelfth, who were captured at Winchester, were held as prisoners they were kept at Richmond, Va., and although they were not held long until they were paroled, their experience of prison life was not such as to invite another trial of it. In the language of the west they had "got all they wanted of it." Before any of our boys had ever been prisoners, some of them used sometimes to threaten, when it was difficult to get furloughs, that they would, when a chance offered allow themselves to be taken prisoners, expecting in that case to be soon paroled and then sent home from the camp, as paroled prisoners on furlough. But after the prisoners returned to the regiment, having had a taste of prison life among the Rebels, and related its hardships to their comrades there was no longer any talk among the boys of allowing themselves to be captured in order that they might in that way get a furlough.

(204) As before written Lieut. Beugough, of Company F, was killed in the battle of Winchester on Sunday, June 14th, 1863. Shortly after this his widow in company with another lady, went to Winchester to recover the body. The two women were arrested as spies. The interesting story of their capture and release, is thus related by the then Mrs. Beugough, now as then, living in Pittsburgh, leaving out her preliminary sketch of a trip from Fairmont, W. Va., to Pittsburgh in March, 1863:

TWO WOMEN OF THE WAR.

(205) Some months later, I learned of the death of my husband, Lieut. J. T. Beugough, who was killed during the three days fight at Winchester. F. P. Pierpont, Adjutant General of West Virginia, sent me a telegram to that effect and accompanied by my sister-in-law, Miss Celia Beugough, principal of the High School in Toledo and sister of the present pension agent at Pittsburgh, Harry Beugough, left Pittsburg for Winchester to recover the body. My late husband had been a lieutenant under Gen. Milroy and during the battle the firing having ceased in his direction, being tired, he with his command lay down to rest; as he slept he was killed by a sharpshooter.

(206) Arriving at the headquarters of Gen. Mulligan on New Creek, Va., we were assigned quarters in a big building, which we subsequently discovered was occupied as a barracks by the soldiers, and we awoke during the night to find the room filled with men. Celia was greatly excited, but I calmed her fears and tucking our heads under the quilt we weathered the storm until the soldiers filed out in the morning. Mulligan furnished us with a pass into the rebel lines, and assured us he had personal friends among the Confederates, who would see that we were properly treated.

(207) After walking a few miles night overtook us, and we put up at a house, the proprietor of which agreed to take us to Winchester for $20. In the morning we got into a buggy, I drove the horse he following on horse back to bring back the rig. It was a long hot ride, and with nothing to eat but cherries we were almost starved. Our escort would not approach the town nearer than three miles, he was afraid of losing his horses, so we footed it.

(208) I had been in Winchester before, and boarded at a house opposite the government corral, and we thought if we could find the place, we might be accommodated for the night. But alas, for human hopes, and happiness, we discovered there were many roads leading into Winchester; that we had lost our bearings and were at sea. What should we do? We dare not make inquiry, and it being about 7 o'clock in the evening we had to conclude quickly. Entering the town we found it full of rebel soldiers. They paid no attention to us, so we wandered about for some time without success. Finally we met a boy about 10 years old, and asked him the name of the street on which the corral was situated, "Where the Yanks used to keep their horses?" he interrogated, "Oh, that's away up yander" and pointing with his index finger out into the right he showed us the way. We were a long time finding the place, and when we did, how changed; the corral was tenantless, and the house we expected to lodge in presented a deserted appearance. With fear and trembling we knocked at the door and were admitted.

(209) The lady knew me, but was uncommunicative. She gave us lodging and a supper and breakfast of salt junk, for which we paid a fancy price. In the morning we pursued our mission. We found our way to the headquarters of Gen. R. E. Lee, who gave us a pass to the fortifications for the purpose of disinterring the body, and one to the hospital for a squad of our prisoners to rebury it in the cemetery. The General told us the body could not be shipped, as the railroad between Winchester and Martinsburg had been torn up.

(210) Having obtained the passes (which I still have in my possession) the General required us to report at his headquarters after our work had been accomplished—disobedience in this respect caused us much suffering and imprisonment in Castle Thunder, Richmond.

(211) We buried the body in the cemetery and went to our boarding house. It was evening and a sad one for us; our hostess had changed considerably since morning—she refused us anything to eat, saying there was nothing in the house. We had money, but were afraid to go out to purchase, so in lieu of anything better, we went outside and sat on the doorstep. We sat there for some time, when we observed a man across the street, close to the corral, dressed in surgeon's uniform. We thought he tried to arrest our attention, but were afraid to encourage him; he disappeared for a time around the corner, and as suddenly appeared this time on our side of the street and passing close, dropped a note, which we read in our room, by a light of a rag burning in a saucer of grease. He stated in the note that he was Lieut. McAdams of a Pennsylvania regiment, the number of which I cannot recall, that he was a prisoner, but not a surgeon, having borrowed the uniform in order to serve us; we were prisoners and would be treated as spies. "I will bring you tea and hard-tack from the hospital about 9 o'clock tonight." He kept his promise dropping the tea and crackers as he had the note. We never saw nor heard of McAdams since. He was a man between 30 and 35 years of age, heavy set, with sandy hair.

(212) Between 12 and 1 o'clock that night, we stole out of the house, climbed the back fence and made for the Romney Road. It has been said we should always hope for the best, and at the same time be prepared for whatever presents itself. When we found ourselves out in the open country terror seized us and brought us to a realization of the situation. The chill of the night, caused us to shiver, so we quickened our steps in the direction of the hill and the fort.

(213) We could see over the misty landscape, the Confederate flag floating proudly from its battlements. We knew the Romney Road lay back of the fort, so we climbed the hill, which was littered with the bodies of horses, mules, cannon balls and unexploded shells which had fallen on the soft hill side and lay in pockets made by the feet of the artillery horses in drawing Early's guns into position.

(214) The haze subsided and one constellation after another appeared—that bright luminary, the moon, waded her way through now and then gliding behind a cloud, leaving the stars on duty, there appearing with new lustre, covered the battle field with a silver sheet. All nature seemed to be opened to our eyes, and in harmony with the surroundings. The night was painfully quiet, the only audible sound we heard, was the lullaby sung by a little stream that meandered down the hill—the night birds were silent, and we fancied we could hear the dripping of the dew. We seemed to wander in a charmed atmosphere, and would not have been surprised if Mab and her Peri's had come forth.

(215) A little to the left stood the guns like so many sentinels with their yawning black mouths—we intended to pass them but they looked so devilish that we were afraid and took the longest route to avoid them. We passed the fort and descended the hill, often looking back to see if the guns were following. The moon neared the shore of the sky; the shadows deepened and Celia declared the trees were walking, she being a good elocutionist declaimed—"Night showeth knowledge unto night. There is no speech nor language, their voice is not heard; yet their sound goeth forth to all generations."

(216) We sat down and huddled close together—we fancied a mythical presence and thought we saw forms coming out of the recesses of the mountains. The wind stirred the dying embers of distant camp fires into flame, and a lurid glare lit the heavens like a flash, and then all was dark. It was near morning and the soft faint streaks of daylight glimmered through the right. We arose and drew near the base of the hill—in the distance we could see the long, narrow but extremely picturesque Romney road, with its widely scattered, antiquated houses. We sat down behind a clump of bushes, and almost scared the lives out of a flock of birds—they flew out in the myriads, circling our heads in mingled confusion, chattering wildly, but soon flew away leaving us in possession of the field.

(217) As the day advanced, the sun rose, penetrated the mist, dried our dewy clothes, and evoked from the flowers their morning fragrance; we strolled about gathering bunches of white and purple larkspur—as we culled we neared the road. We were on the lookout for pickets, when a rifle shot rang out clear and sharp, followed by other shots in quick succession; as they ricocheted in and out of the mountain passes, reverberated over the hills and through the valleys, we thought a whole regiment was firing. Then we heard the shrill but musical notes of the bugle, and knew there was infantry and cavalry at a distance.

(218) We retraced our steps following a cow-path that wound round the hill, thinking to gain the road indirectly, but were mistaken, and taking a more direct route, found ourselves in the presence of three pickets, playing cards. We were not much surprised as they had been uppermost in our minds for we had wandered the hill all night to avoid them. With renewed courage, bonnets swinging on our arms and carrying our posies, we passed by acting as unconcerned as possible. We were not interrupted—at least we were on the Romney Road.

(219) We walked about five miles and being hungry approached a white house enclosed within an open fence with a long line of trees in front, loaded with blood-red cherries. This was the home of Betty Jenkins, a pleasant faced motherly woman of about 40 years. She welcomed us, and we examined a large wheel, that stood in front of the mantel, with a hank of white yarn around it; there was a smaller one in the corner, which was used for spinning. These wheels were a novelty to us, and we exhibited so much ignorance as to their use, that Betty became suspicious.

(220) When we told her we were northern women, she was nearly frightened out of her wits and was afraid to give us any help. We told her we were almost starved; she then told us to go up stairs to a retired room and she would find food. Betty managed to get us a good meal and we remained there that night. With the first glimmer of dawn we were on deck. Betty prepared breakfast, and we all three parted crying.

(221) When we were at a distance from the house, we looked back, and there stood Betty, leaning over the gate, shading her eyes with her hand waving farewell. Dear, friendly Betty, we never heard of her again. The beauty of the morning raised our spirits, the fresh and invigorating air gave us strength. The sun rose in all his majesty and gilded the mountain ranges. In the distance we saw glittering water walled around by hills. The scenery was surpassing in grandeur and sublimity. The trees were full of buds, and their liquid notes filled the air; spotted lizards and little squirrels ran along the fence rails; brown rabbits scurried across the meadows; the partridge called "Bob White;" and the perfume of the honey-suckle scented the air. The fields were covered with wild flowers, tall red poke-berry stalks ornamented the fence corners, and berry bushes were white with blossom. The ravines were covered with dark velvety moss, and silver streams of murmuring water ran zig-zag through clumps of willows.

(222) We had walked about 12 miles, when we met a man riding on a big bay horse, lank and lean, with a bulged out pair of saddle bags—he seemed friendly but we paid no attention. As we rounded a bend in the road we heard dogs barking at no great distance, and knew we were near a farm house. The house was situated below the level of the road, with a running stream in front, the bosom of which was covered with ducks, geese and goslings. We descended the long stairway leading down from the pike, and entered the house. There we found a very old man and a tall woman, the latter playing deaf and dumb, afraid to say anything to strangers. We asked for food; the old man brought out a piece of table linen, in which he tied up meat, bread and cheese. Our Evangelist carried the bundle to the top of the steps, and told us how far and what way we must go before we would meet Mulligan's scouts.

(224) Turning off the road we sat on a log and ate ravenously. Resuming our journey we found our commissary stores a burden and threw them away. The heat was oppressive and the dust suffocating, so we turned off the high way and sought the cool forest, but we were afraid of snakes and the sharp twigs cut our blistered and swollen feet. We tried to wear our shoes but could not. We clambered over rocks, logs and low thick brush, which made it tiresome, and again were forced to take the high way. We limped painfully while we tramped, ankle deep in dust, under a burning sun.

(225) We waded the north and south branches of the Potomac. The water was low but transparent, and the river bed stony. We amused ourselves, while laving our blistered feet, gathering beautiful stones of many colors, which we afterwards threw away—they grew burdensome. Twice we came to where roads or paths converged, and were at a loss to know which one to take, but Celia, remembered the scriptural injunction that the straight path was the right path—therefore we turned neither to the right nor to the left.

(226) We saw a house in the distance and a few matronly cows and sheep in a field, whose acquaintance we tried to make, but they would have none of it, and throwing their tails in the air ran off bellowing—the poor frightened sheep scattered and hid in the bushes. We entered the house and found an old man plaiting a straw hat and a woman making cherry pies. They had little to say, but gave us milk and pie. The pie had neither shortening nor sugar—the top crust was burned while the bottom was dough. We drank the milk and went on.

(227) About 3 o'clock we encountered a heavy rain storm, accompanied with thunder and vivid lightning, and were wet through, but fortunately the storm did not continue long and the sun coming out in all his heat, soon dried our clothes. We were, now about 18 miles from Winchester, four miles from the Cacapon bridge and nine miles from Mulligan. We hobbled along as best we could for about two miles, when we came to a house on the roadside, enclosed by a dilapidated fence. A pump and wooden drinking trough stood in front, but there was no appearance of horses having quenched their thirst at the trough for some time, the ground being unbroken around it. A clucking hen strutted noisily about, and a tribe of guineas set up a fearful cry of alarm, as we approached. A man and woman were hanging over the garden gate quietly chatting, but as soon as they saw us, they seemed alarmed, particularly the woman. She eyed us carefully and impudently whispering something to her companion. We noticed the agitation and felt uneasy.

(228) We had walked about 20 miles but the meanderings of the road added a greater distance. It was late in the day, and the absence of cattle and fowl noticeable. We anticipated trouble and shied into the woods. We did not make much headway on account of the dense growth of trees, but we persevered and at last came to the Cacapon water. We made a detour and found a tree fallen across the stream. It was high from the water and Celia could not cross it. I coaxed and entreated, but all to no purpose. The river was full of water snakes and the banks lined with villainous looking frogs. We found fault with each other, and Celia resisting my entreaties, blamed me for the escapade, and she quoted scripture to fit the crime, for she was full of texts—"He that cometh not in by the door, but climeth up some other way, the same is a thief, and robber." I saw the point and we laughed and crossed the bridge.

(229) We were 22 miles from Winchester, and five miles from Mulligan scouts. We had proceeded about 50 yards on the other side of the bridge, when we were halted by a handsome young cavalry officer, Lieut. Bell, nephew of Gen. Bell of the C.S.A. He touched his cap and accosted us—"Good evening ladies, have you got a pass?" Travel-stained foot-sore, faces blistered, hungry and utterly wretched, we hung our heads, but gave no answer—we were too miserable.

(230) The daylight faded slowly, the night grew chilly and the wind stirred the bending grass. The setting sun shot slanting spikes from the golden west, through the trees and across the road. The cavalry horse stood at a distance pawing the dust, and clanking his equipments, every now and then lifting his head with a majestic air, looked toward his rider, who stood with bowed head rubbing the buttons up and down with his fingers, which adorned the front of his cavalry jacket. It was June—the sun had set, the shadows deepened, and the katy-dids had almost ceased their rasping.

(231) There we three stood, in the gloom of approaching night, with no sound to break the silence, except the lonely quavering notes of the forest birds. Bats flitted to and fro and circled our heads—the owl hooted, and fire flies lit the ravines. We buried our feet in the dust that he might not see their nakedness, and with heart-rending sobs, cried as we had never cried before. We were captured and we knew that meant on to Richmond.

(232) Lieut. Bell told us we had been arrested as spies by order of Gen. R. E. Lee. We begged we should not be made walk back, for we thought we would have to tramp the whole road over again. He assured us such would not be the case, that he would take us to a house in the woods, owned by a Mrs. Smith, where Miss Bell, his sister, would search us. Having walked about half a mile, we came to a defile in the mountains, which rose very high on either side, with an opening at the top large enough to see a patch of sky, studded with misty stars. Our captor told us these mountains were covered with perpetual snow and ice. In this gap lived Mrs. Smith, with whom we were to remain for the night.

(233) The house was two storied, painted white, and backed close to the mountain. The windows were vine covered and here and there a glimmer of light shone through making the green look greener. Opposite the house and on the other side of the gap, close to what had once been a barn, stood a lot of unsheltered wagons, buggies and stage coaches in a dilapidated condition.

(234) At the sound of approaching foot steps Mrs. Smith appeared in the door, with a grease-saucer light, and behind her an old aunty, with her head bound up in a yellow bandana. Dinah was greatly agitated when she saw us approach in the shadows, and throwing up her hands exclaimed. "Fo de lord, misses, dey is de Yanks!" We knew my aunties remarks, we had been anticipated.

(235) Mrs. Smith was a neat little dark-eyed woman, with hair and complexion to match her eyes. She wore a gray flannel dress of her own weaving, cotton material being out of the question. She was greatly impoverished, and told us her husband used to run a line of stages, but the Yanks had taken their horses—there was not a man about the place, they were in the Confederate Army; that auntie and she had rolled the snow into big balls during the winter, and dumped them into the ice house—that ice water was the only luxury she had. We drank some of it and were refreshed. After supper we were assigned to a comfortable room, with a good bed in it, of which we stood in need. In the morning we were furnished with water and other necessary toilet articles. After making ourselves presentable we wet a lot of letters in the basin and rubbed them into pulp, that they might not be found in our possession, when Miss Bell would search us—we mixed the pulp with wood ashes on the hearth, until all trace was obliterated. We were searched, but nothing was found upon our person. We got the letters from wounded Union soldiers in the Winchester hospital.

(236) Next morning after breakfast Lieut. Bell and a lot of troopers, made their appearance with a squeaky wagon, drawn by two half-starved mules. He apologized for the conveyance, saying nothing better could be had. After bidding good-bye to Mrs. Smith and Dinah we got into the wagon and were soon on our way back to Winchester. We had not proceeded far, when a wheel slid off, almost throwing us out of the wagon. Our driver with a hickory linch pin and some assistance repaired the damage. We traveled all day and at night put up at an inn, where the roads divided in different tracks.

(237) Our cavalry picketed their horses in a field nearby, that they might eat grass, there being neither oats nor hay to give them. Our guard told us their horses were starving and had already become too weak for effective duty.

(238) After supper we were given a comfortable room furnished with an old-fashioned bed, decorated with high-colored hangings; a picture of Washington relieved the wall; three chairs, a rocker and a dragon-legged table completed the furnishment. A purple wistaria covered the window and climbed to the roof. Our guard slept on the soft side of the porch, first exacting a promise from us that we would not try to escape. We promised, and being as tired as they, slept the sleep of youth.

(239) In the morning, furnished with conveniences, we made our toilet, while our gallant cavalrymen made theirs at the horse trough. After a scanty meal of corn bred, rye coffee and sorghum molasses, the lady of the house announced all was in readiness for our departure. She bade us a friendly good-bye and we took the road again. We traveled slowly, and as we neared Winchester we found fence, bush, and tree limbs ornamented with old clothes, which had been taken from the battle field and dyed butter-nut. The scenery was not improved by the accession. Finally we reached Winchester and Gen. Lee's headquarters. The General was not in, but the room was filled with officers of all grades and rank. Uninvited we seated ourselves and listened to a tirade from Maj. Bridgeford on spies in particular and Yankee women in general. We were too miserable to reply. Celia reminded me that we were in the hands of the Philistines, and might as well hang our harps on the willows, for how could we sing in that strange land.

(240) We waited an hour or more, when we heard the clatter of horses hoofs outside, a dismount and Gen. Lee entered, tall, graceful, refined and haughty. Touching his cap and bidding us "good morning" he reprimanded us for our disobedience, ending with the announcement that we must go to prison. Major Bridgeford made out the necessary papers, Gen. Lee signed them, and then, on to Richmond, guarded by cavalry.

(241) We passed a hapless night and in the morning took the stage for Staunton, Va. We traveled up the Shenandoah Valley and saw Gen. Lee's whole army, as they marched down the Shenandoah, and on to Gettysburg.

(242) When we got hungry, our guard picked cherries for us, and begged slap-jacks and bonny-clabber from the surrounding farm houses, some of which we exchanged with a wounded rebel, riding on the top of the coach, for maple molasses.

(243) When we came to Mount Jackson, the coach stopped at a tavern, kept by a brother of the man, who shot Col. Ellsworth. It was a beautiful spot. The inn was old but picturesque, and built on a little rise. A couple of wide-spreading-trees espaliered across its front. At the side of the house, a row of oleanders contracted their bloom with the green of the foliage, and a cypress vine, trained on strings, covered the windows. A gourd vine clambered up and over the wood shed, almost concealing the door, and compelling, Julius, himself to double himself when he went in and out for wood. Our host was a long-jawed, dark-skinned man, and had little to say, but his wife made up for the deficiency. She flew at us in a rage, called us names and likened us to a lot of thieving Yankee soldiers, who she said, had stolen her chickens and robbed her onion bed. She refused us anything to eat, and said we should not sleep in her house that night. We made no answer, allowing her to have her way. We went out into the orchard and sat on a bench under an apple tree, where a robin perched on the top-most limb cheered us with his sweetest evening song.

(244) A genuine southern mammy with her kinky hair, plaited and tied in wads and knots, stood over a big iron kettle stirring soap. She looked askance at us, not daring to speak, but we knew by her actions that we had her sympathy. Having sat there about an hour, Mrs. Jackson remorseful and relenting asked us in to supper.

(245) When bed time came we were given a large square room (with a bare floor) lighted with a tallow dip. A low post bed, two chairs and a looking glass completed the furnishment, with the exception of two pictures, lacking resemblance to anything we ever saw, hung upon the whitewashed walls. In the morning we breakfasted and then set out for Staunton. It was a lovely day, the blossoms of summer and green of the foliage were very attractive. The beauty of the valley was beyond description, with its silvery pools and trickling streams, moss covered rocks and hedges of wild roses. The song birds whistled and thrilled, and the unceasing notes of the insect tribes filled the woods.

(246) At Staunton we were comfortably housed, but had nothing to eat. We should have gone supperless to bed, but for the shrewdness of a colored chambermaid who, under pretense of making the bed, got into our room, and without a sign of recognition began to beat the pillows, spread the quilts and make a fuss generally. She attracted our attention by the unusual length of time it took her to perform the work. She gave us a significant look and passed out.

(247) The guard who paced up and down the hall way looked in to see if all was right, locked the door and we were alone for the night. We examined the bed and found about a dozen biscuits under the quilts and pillows, and a quart bucket full of tea under the bed.

(248) In the morning we informed our guard of the inhospitable treatment, and he sent the provost marshal to look after us. He immediately ordered the hotel keeper to bring us down to the table, which he did, but he took revenge by putting us at a little table in the centre of the dinning room making us the cynosure of all eyes. When we had eaten Celia wrote with a piece of crayon, "Yankee Table" on our table, which was considered audacious by the regular boarders.

(249) Before leaving the hotel, we gave the chambermaid, who had befriended us, a $1 greenback, the ribbon off our hat and a pair of gloves. We traveled by rail from Staunton to Richmond. When the train stopped at different stations, we were almost suffocated by the crowd that scrambled up the sides of the car and poked their heads through the windows to see what Yankee women looked like.

(250) When we arrived at Richmond, we were obliged to walk some distance from the station to Castle Thunder, being followed by the curious of both sexes. We were taken into the Provost Marshal's office where we found the prison authorities selecting nine captains to be hung, in case the Federal government hanged Fitzhugh Lee. Capt. Rowand of the Virginia cavalry was one of them. The Captain came down with us, and when we entered the Provost Marshal's office, he was greeted by Maj. Turner of Libby prison, with the cheering announcement, "Well Captain you are just in time to draw your death out." Whether he drew it or not, we do not know, for we were marched out into a tunnel-like passage and up a rickety pair of stairs into a cell, 12 by 15 feet, with no furnishment. There was one window of many small panes, with a large sill, which we used for a seat.

(251) Maj. Alexander, commander of the prison, frequently cautioned us to keep our heads inside the window for fear we might be shot. There were other women prisoners in the Castle, but they were waiting to be sent through on the next truce boat, there being no charges against them. Among them was Mrs. Surgeon McCandless, of Morgantown, W. Va.

(252) We were searched by an old white headed man, whom the prisoners called "Anti-Christ;" he did not take our money some $75 or $80. We afterwards heard the old man was hung with the Wirtz gang.

(253) An order came from the Confederate authorities to send the other women home. Major Alexander told them to be ready to leave early next morning at the same time asking for the Beugough women. We answered to our names, when he informed us we were held as spies and would be forwarded to some place in South Carolina, for safe keeping. We cried bitterly when the other women left.

(254) Towards evening the Major bettered our condition; he sent us a mattress, pillows and covering, and two colored women to wait upon us. We slept little that night, feeling horribly alone. The moonlight flooded the room; we got up and looked out over the James river; we wondered what our friends were doing at home, if they thought of us, and if we should ever see them again. We asked permission to burn the gas all night, and it was granted. Then the lapse of time had its effect, and we adjusted our lives to suit the situation.

(255) The food we got was not nourishing. It consisted of bread and coffee made of porched rye. We paid $14 in green backs for a pound of tea. It was poor in quality, but we preferred it to the rye.

(256) A Chaplain visited us every day, and always left Bibles. We asked him if he could not find some other literature; in a few days he returned bringing a beautifully illustrated volume of "Don Quixote." He must have given us up for lost souls for he never came again. We read the book over and over—criticized it and quarreled over the criticisms.

(257) One day we saw a long line of rebel soldiers driving a large drove of cattle along Cary street; each soldier had a hoop-skirt about his neck, and everything conceivable in shoes, dry goods, and notions tied to each hoop. Then we learned the battle of Gettysburg had been fought, and the captured cattle belonged to Pennsylvania. After that our fare was varied with fresh beef—once we got a dried apple pie, baked without shortening, on a saucer, but it tasted better than any pie we had ever eaten before or since.

(258) Shortly after the hoop-skirt brigade had passed, about 1,000 Yankee prisoners were marched up the same street and housed in an old building opposite Castle Thunder. They were given meat and bread. One of the men after eating his meat threw the bone out on the pavement, the guard instantly fired into the crowd, taking the arm off a fine looking man, without provocation. We saw him carried to the hospital on a stretcher, the blood streaming through canvas on to the pavement. John Brown, of Allegheny, present post commander of 128, was among that crowd of prisoners.

(259) We received frequent visits from people of note. Our greenbacks were borrowed to show to Jeff Davis, Gov. Wise, Judah P. Benjamin and Maj. Turner—they were promptly returned.

(260) One day Maj. Alexander told us he had been ordered to go on active duty. He was a sea captain and had been put in charge of the prison on account of having his leg broken. When the war broke out the Major run a cargo of ammunition into a rebel post, instead of turning it over to Uncle Sam. He was imprisoned for it in Fort Lafayette, where he broke his leg by jumping from a port hole; he finally got into the Confederate lines and was placed in command of Castle Thunder. The Major told us there was to be a clearance of prisoners and said, "I should like to have you both put on the exchange list, Gen. Winder, called "Hog" Winder by the prisoners, gives a feast tonight, and before the festivities are over he will be in a very moist condition. Now, if we can give him the exchange list at this juncture, he will sign it without reading and you shall be ready for the truce boat in the morning." The scheme was a success, and we slept none that night. About 2 o'clock in the morning 1,000 of our prisoners were marched from Libby en route for City Point and halted in front of the Castle. While they stood there Lotta Gilmore, a southern girl, imprisoned in Castle Thunder, sang the "Moon Behind the Hill," and was answered by one of the prisoners in line who sang, "When This Cruel War Is Over." We encored the minstrel, and asked what name and regiment. He called out "Massachusetts," and we replied "Pennsylvania," and immediately received three rousing cheers.

(261) Lotta Gilmore was imprisoned because her lover had counterfeited Confederate currency—he had shown the money to her, but she refused to testify against him, and was imprisoned for contempt of court.

(262) Bell Boyd, of rebel spy fame, visited the prison dressed in male attire, and was introduced as Lieut. Warry.

(263) There was a Col. Dunham of some New York regiment, imprisoned opposite to our cell, but at a distance. We could see him through the chinks in the board partition. We sent him a note written on one of the fly leaves of "Don Quixote," and gave Washington, the colored hunch-back one dollar to deliver it; he rolled it in his shirt sleeve, and when he swept Dunham's cell, gave it to him. Dunham left Richmond the same morning we did.

(264) About 3 o'clock in the morning Maj. Alexander made his appearance, we had not retired that night, and told us to make ready, as soon as possible to take the train for City Point. We made ourselves as presentable as our limited wardrobe would allow, but realized that we were laughing stocks. Celia's hat was faded and battered and out of shape; mine had been gray, but now it was no color at all, and without a particle of trimming, having given the ribbon to the colored chambermaid at Staunton. Our shoes, bearing the name of "Schmertz Pittsburg" were down at the heel and out at the sides; our stockings minus feet, and our hands bare; we had traded our last pair of gloves for a piece of pie. Our faces resembled boiled lobster in color, never having recovered from the tramp along the Romney Road, nor the long ride up the Shenandoah.

(265) The colored women brought us four fresh laundried skirts. We each took one giving the others to the women, and a $2 greenback apiece. We wrote good-bye to the Chaplain on the fly leaf of "Don Quixote," also thanked him for the book and the comfort it had given us. We inscribed a farewell stanza of our own composition, (Celia composing one half and I the other) in Major Alexander's log book, placing both books with care on the window sill—that seat we had so often sat upon and looked out on the James, in our loneliness. We bade the colored women an affectionate adieu, for they had comforted us to the best of their ability, and we were attached to them, then passed down the dark and gruesome rickety prison stairs, out into the culvert, and freedom. When the fresh morning air wafted over our faces, we staggered against the wall—we were dreadfully weak, but visions of home and friends gave us renewed strength and we soon revived.

(266) Maj. Alexander escorted us to the train, bidding us good-bye, and gave us a letter to be delivered at City Point, where an exchange of prisoners took place. We embarked on a U.S. vessel, and sailed down the Chesapeake. We passed Hampton Roads, and Fortress Monroe and saw the masts of the sunken Cumberland, above the water, in Hampton Roads.

(267) We landed at Annapolis, stopping at a hotel there about a week, boarding being furnished us without price, and thence to Baltimore.

(268) The morning after our arrival in that city, we started out to deliver Alexander's letter. We were instructed how to find the man; given a description of him, and told to give him the letter and ask no questions. We were to remain in the place designated until we found a man answering the description in the middle store of a block on a certain street. We went to the place and paced back and forth through the store, asking no questions; finally when about to despair, we noticed a man answering the description in every respect, seated on a chair on the edge of the pavement, in front of the store. He was evidently a Hebrew. We delivered the letter and the man took it, read it attentively, changed color several times, but made no comment. He finally wrote a brief epistle and handed it to us and directed us to present it at a certain place. We did so and at the place were given transportation to Pittsburg. We stopped for refreshments at different places, and nowhere were we asked for money for services rendered.

(269) We arrived at the Union depot in December, before Christmas, and reached home by a round-about route; we did not care to face the public in our city, as we were ashamed of our appearance. We sent no word that we were coming, but walked in unannounced. Father and mother were panic-stricken and could not believe their own eyes. Our friends and neighbors, for miles around came to see us and ask questions. The "fatted calf" was killed and a general rejoicing took place. We were the lionesses of the day. Once again in Pittsburg, I received work as a compositor at Haven's under James M. McEwen.

(270) Two years after leaving Richmond, Alexander walked into Haven's care worn and penniless. He said he had been included in the sentence against Wirtz, but had escaped. I had a difficult time in getting Mr. McEwen to make peculiar promises, before I should introduce Alexander; finally he promised, and the introduction took place. A look of astonishment overspread his face when he found out who his new acquaintance was, but they were "Masons" and Alexander was introduced, during his stay in Pittsburg, to other members of that order, and found means to get to England. In the meantime amnesty being granted, he came back to the states, and resumed his former calling.

LOTTIE BEUGOUGH M'CAFFREY.

CHAPTER VI.

(271) During our stay at Martinsburg up to October 18th, there was little, if anything, of importance in a military way took place. We spent our time in doing picket duty, drilling and etc. On that day however, Imboden attacked the Ninth Maryland Infantry at Charleston, killing the Adjutant and capturing a considerable part of the command.