Incidents of the War: Humorous, Pathetic, and Descriptive Part 25

by Martha M. Thomas.

Our Fathers House is threatened, boys!

The Union, grand and free, Has warmed an adder in its heart That saps its great roof-tree.

We've sworn to hold it pure, boys- A first love's holy shrine; A home for all the homeless, boys, For "auld lang syne."

Its foemen are our brothers, boys; But still we must not falter; Though dear to us those who offend, They must die by lead or halter.

Our Father's House is ours in trust, From Washington's own line; The Union knows no Pleiad lost For "auld lang syne."

The rafters of the old house, boys, Must never know pollution; Its cement was our father's blood, Its roof the Const.i.tution; And though, like prodigals astray, Its sons eat husks with swine, And feel the rod, we'll kill the calf, For "auld lang syne."

Then let the bugle sound, my boys And forward to the strife; We'll thrash our rebel brothers well, E'en though it cost our life.

And when we've whipped them into grace And made each dim star shine, We'll open wide our Father's door, For "auld lang syne."[]

CHAPTER XXVII.

The Oath - A Conservative Darkey's Opinion of Yankees - Visit to the Graves of Ohio and Indiana Boys - Trip from Murfreesboro to Louisville - Nashville Convalescents - A Death in the Hospital - Henry Lovie Captured.

The Oath.

BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.

Hamlet-Swear on my sword.

Ghost (below)-Swear!-[Shakspeare.

Ye freemen, how long will ye stifle The vengeance that justice inspires?

With treason how long will you trifle, And shame the proud name of your sires?

Out, out with the sword and the rifle, In defense of your homes and your fires.

The flag of the old Revolution Swear firmly to serve and uphold, That no treasonous breath of pollution Shall tarnish one star on its fold.

Swear!

And hark, the deep voices replying From graves where your fathers are lying, "Swear, O, swear!"

In this moment who hesitates, barters The rights which his forefathers won, He forfeits all claim to the charters Transmitted from sire to son.

Kneel, kneel at the graves of our martyrs, And swear on your sword and your gun: Lay up your great oath on an altar As huge and as strong as Stonehenge, And then with sword, fire, and halter, Sweep down to the field of revenge.

Swear!

And hark, the deep voices replying From graves where your fathers are lying, "Swear, O, swear!"

By the tombs of your sires and brothers, The host which the traitors have slain; By the tears of your sisters and mothers, In secret concealing their pain The grief which the heroine smothers, Consuming the heart and the brain By the sigh of the penniless widow, By the sob of her orphans' despair, Where they sit in their sorrowful shadow, Kneel, kneel, every freeman, and swear; Swear!

And hark, the deep voices replying From graves where your fathers are lying, "Swear, O, swear!"

On mounds which are wet with the weeping Where a nation has bowed to the sod, Where the n.o.blest of martyrs are sleeping, Let the winds bear your vengeance abroad, And your firm oaths be held in the keeping Of your patriot hearts and your G.o.d.

Over Ellsworth, for whom the first tear rose, While to Baker and Lyon you look; By Winthrop, a star among heroes, By the blood of our murdered McCook, Swear!

And hark, the deep voices replying From graves where your fathers are lying, "Swear, O, swear!"

A Conservative Darkey's Opinion of Yankees.

There was a large Union meeting in Nashville, and an old house-servant of one of the most aristocratic rebel families, who hates "Lincolnites" and "poor white trash" as heartily as Jeff Davis does, was walking slowly along the square as the grand procession was forming. Soldiers were moving about in great numbers, the cavalry galloping to and fro, regiments were forming to the sound of lively music, citizens and visitors thronged the sidewalks, children ran about with banners, and thousands of flags fluttered like fragments of rainbows, from the various buildings. The conservative contraband paced slowly along, rolling his distended eyes in all directions, apparently overwhelmed by the exhibition and bustle around him. Approaching our friend, he exclaimed:

"My G.o.d! what are we Southern folks coming to? Ma.s.sa said, a year ago, dat de Yankees done gone away forever. Now dey is swarmin' about thicker dan locusses. Dey runs dere boats on our ribber; dey is pressin' all our n.i.g.g.e.rs; dey lib in our houses; dey drivin' our wagons, and ringin' our bells; dey 'fisticatin' our property; dey eatin' up our meat and corn; dey done killed up mose all of our men; and, 'fore G.o.d, I spec dey are gwine to marry all our widders!"

And, heaving a deep groan from the bottom of his continental waistcoat, he shook his head in sadness, and pa.s.sed slowly onward, to the joyful chimes of the church-bells and the soul-stirring strains of "Yankee Doodle."

Visit to the Graves of Ohio and Indiana Boys.

Traversing the field of battle, near Murfreesboro, a few days after the rebel defeat, I could but contrast, in my mind, the terrible quiet with the terrific din and roar of battle of which it was the late scene.

The debris of battle is strewn for miles and miles. Thousands upon thousands of cannon-b.a.l.l.s and sh.e.l.l lie upon the field. The woods present the appearance of having been visited by a tornado, and here and there a pool of blood marks the place where some devoted hero has rendered up his life.

The heavy cedar wood is nearly three miles from Murfreesboro, to the right of the pike, going south. The rocks bear evidence of the struggle, for thousands of bullet and sh.e.l.l traces may be seen. The smaller branches of trees are cut as if a severe hail-storm had visited the spot. Let us dismount and read the names of those soldiers who fell here. They have been given a soldier's funeral. Ah! the names here denote this as a part of the gallant Rousseau's division; for on rough pieces of board we read: W. McCartin, Hamilton, Ohio, Company F, 3d Ohio; F. Burley, Hamilton; John Motram, Company I, Cardington, Ohio; H. K. Bennett, Company A, 3d Ohio; M. Neer, Company D, 3d Ohio. And close beside, a brother Indiana soldier sleeps-Joseph Guest, 42d Indiana.

Just across the pike, on the left going south, is the grave of A. Hardy, 6th Ohio; and opposite this is the spot where Lieutenant Foster, of the n.o.ble 6th, yielded up his life, and was buried. Close by is a log house, perforated with shot and sh.e.l.l. Here some of our wounded sought shelter during the storm of iron hail, but were mercilessly driven out by the shot poured into their intended refuge. To the left of this house are numerous graves. Among them, Francis Kiggins, Company K, H. Borrien, Company H, W. Keller, Company H, all of the 24th Ohio; Alf Goodman, 58th Indiana; Noah Miller, 58th Indiana; E. D. Tuttles, Company B, C. McElvain, Company A, Levi Colwright, James Wright, C. A. McDowell, Company K; J. B. Naylor, H. Lockmeyer, A. B. Endicott, Company A; J. Cunningham, E. Skito, J. Reavis, H. Cure, Company D, all of the 58th Indiana.

Near this the 26th Ohio lost John Tagg, John Karn, F. Singer, and Charles Bartholomew; Mark E. Rakes, of the 88th Indiana, and George k.u.mler and William Ogg, of the 93d Ohio, are buried here, together with John Van Waggoner and Lieutenant Black, of the 58th Indiana. And still further to the left, along the Chattanooga Railroad, are the remains of Elias M. Scott, 82d Indiana; near this, but across the road, on the skirt of a wood, are Sergeants Potter and Puttenry, of the 24th Ohio, Henry Allen, of the 65th Ohio, and Frank Nitty, of the 58th Indiana. Continuing our course to the left, just crossing a dirt-road leading toward Murfreesboro, upon a little knoll, are the ruins of a once handsome mansion. Behind an upright Southern timber-fence, just back of the still-standing negro-quarters, there is a beautiful cl.u.s.ter of prairie-roses in full leaf. The waving branches, as they bend to the right, cover the graves of three Cincinnati boys, two of whom I knew intimately. Go ask their comrades, and they will bear willing evidence to the chivalrous bearing of the two n.o.ble youths, Ally Rockenfield and little Dave Medary. Beside them is the grave of W. S. Shaw, whom I did not know personally. I am told he died while bravely doing his whole duty. The branches of the same friendly rose-bush, bending to the left, cover the graves of Captain Weller, Lieutenant Harmon, and Major Terry; all of the 24th Ohio, forming a beautiful emblem of the unity of those two splendid regiments, the 6th and 24th. Continuing still further to the left, we cross Stone River, where our forces did such good fighting under Crittenden. Just after crossing this stream, upon the first knoll, beneath a large oak, are the remains of Sergeant Jacob McGillen, of Hamilton. He belonged to the 69th Ohio. An incident in regard to this n.o.ble youth was told me by a gentleman who knew him well. When that n.o.ble man, William Beckett, of Hamilton, was doing all in his power to a.s.sist in raising the 69th Regiment, a number of the "Southern Rights" sympathizers tried to dissuade McGillen from joining-bidding him to hold off until subst.i.tutes were called for, and then, if he would go, they would buy him. He, however, spurned their base offers, and enlisted; and, when crossing the river amid the leaden hail, he received a bullet in his arm; he hastily tied up the wound, and, though weakened from loss of blood, rejoined his command, and the second ball piercing his breast, he fell. Nearly opposite his resting place lies Captain Chandler, of the 19th Illinois.

I have been told, by those high in command, that more individual prowess was manifested upon this battle-field than any during the war. There were more hand-to-hand encounters, more desperate fighting-men selling their lives as dearly as possible. As to their General, there is but one acclamation: General Rosecrans has endeared himself to the whole army; they love him as a child should love its father; and all are satisfied that, had it not been for the surprise upon the right, and Johnson's defeat, the battle would have ended with the total annihilation of the Southern army.

Nashville Convalescents-A Death in the Hospital.

On my way back to Nashville I called at the different hospitals, and saw quite a number of the wounded. The surgeons were doing all they could toward sending them home. Doctor Ames and Doctor Stevens, of the 6th Ohio, in fact, all the surgeons seemed a.s.siduous in their attentions to the wounded. As a matter of course, many thought they were neglected; but there were so many to be attended to.

I met Major Frank Cahill. He told me he had six thousand convalescents under his charge at Nashville.

General Mitch.e.l.l was kept very busy, although but few pa.s.ses were given to any going South; but Lieutenant Osgood, his chief business man, was up night and day, ready, at all times, to expedite those going in search of the wounded Union soldiers. Lieutenant Osgood certainly did more business in one day than many men, who are called fast, could do in a week. To know that he did his duty, I will state that Secessionists hated him, and Union men spoke in high terms of him.

A young lad, who had been sick for a long time, died; his name was William Stokes, and his home was near Dayton, Ohio. The boy had been honorably discharged, but there were no blanks, and red tape forbids a surgeon, no matter how high his position, to grant the final discharge without the blank forms. For five weeks this poor home-sick boy, only eighteen years of age, worried along, continually speaking of his mother and home; but the inexorable law kept him there to die.

Henry Lovie Captured.

At Bowling Green I met Henry Lovie, the artist; he had been grossly abused by a party of a dozen b.u.t.ternuts, at a little town called "Cromwell," (what's in a name?) They accused him of being a n.i.g.g.e.r-thief-a d--d Abolitionist, and were sworn to hang him. His servant, however, happened to have his free papers, and Lovie, exhibiting to them pa.s.ses from McClellan, Rosecrans, and other "high old names," they were disposed to cave a little. "Our traveling artist" for Frank Leslie took a horse for self and one for servant, riding twenty-eight miles, fearing the b.u.t.ternuts might receive reinforcements, and reached Bowling Green by early dawn, through mud, slush, snow, and rain. Lovie wants to enlist a company to go and take "Cromwell," and requested me to see Tom Jones & Co. in regard to the matter.[]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

General Steadman superseded by General Schofield, of Missouri - Colonel Brownlow's Regiment - His Bravery - A Rebel Officer Killed by a Woman - Discontent in East Tennessee - Picket Duty and Its Dangers - A Gallant Deed and a Chivalrous Return.

Camp near Triune, Tennessee, April 24, 1862.

I arrived in camp day before yesterday, and immediately reported for duty.

Last night General Schofield took command of this division, General Steadman having been a.s.signed to the Second Brigade. General Schofield comes to us with the highest recommendations for gallant daring, and his appearance among the boys was the signal for a neat ovation. He was serenaded by a crowd of singers, and, upon the conclusion of a patriotic song, he came to the front of his head-quarters and made a telling speech, which was enthusiastically received by his command. General Steadman being called for responded, regretting to part with his old command, but rejoicing that he had been superseded by a gentleman and a soldier so worthy of the position that had been a.s.signed him. General Steadman a.s.sured the General that he had as fine a set of soldiers as were to be found in the Army of the c.u.mberland; men who had been tried and never found wanting; men whom he a.s.sured General Schofield would go wherever ordered, and against any foe. After the adjournment of the public demonstration, the two generals, with their staffs, were handsomely entertained by Captain Roper, where song, sentiment, and recitation were the order of the evening-Colonel George, Colonel Vandeveer, Colonel Long, and other notables being among the guests.

While thus enjoying ourselves, the General received a telegraphic dispatch from head-quarters, announcing the capture of McMinnville by our forces.

The command of the Third Division, we feel confident, is in vigilant hands. Brigadier-General Schofield has heretofore proved his efficiency in Missouri. His staff consists of Major J. A. Campbell, A. A. S.; W. M. Wherry, Aid-de-camp; A. H. Engle, Aid-de-camp and Judge Advocate; Captain Kirk, Quarter-master; Captain Roper, Commissary; Captain Budd, Inspector of Division, and Doctor Gordon, Medical Director.

The East Tennessee Cavalry still continue to prove their gallantry. I spent a pleasant afternoon with them yesterday, and paid a visit to their hospital. I saw six of the n.o.ble fellows who were wounded in a late fight. About ten days ago, Colonel Brownlow, a regular "chip of the old block," took a part of the regiment out some twelve miles from camp, toward Duck River, and, coming upon a large party of secesh, gave them a "taste of his quality." A short time after, the Colonel, with nine of his men, became detached from the main body, and found themselves completely surrounded by the rebels, and were within thirty yards of the foe, who ordered the Colonel to surrender. A moment's parley with his men, and the Colonel, with the boys, rode toward the rebels, and, with a few adjectives, quite unparliamentary to ears polite, much to their surprise, dashed through their line. This audacity saved them; for, before they had time to recover from their surprise, Brownlow and his men were beyond their reach. I was told, by one of the prisoners, that, at one time, twenty rebels were firing at that "little cuss in the blue jacket," as they called the Colonel, during the day's performance. Several splendid charges were made by these Tennesseeans.

James Mysinger, of Company I, from Green County, after being mortally wounded-the n.o.ble fellow-fired three shots. The Colonel dismounted to a.s.sist the dying soldier, who, with tears in his eyes, said:

"Colonel, I've only one regret-that I am not spared to kill more of those wretched traitors. Tell me, Colonel," continued he, "have I not always obeyed orders?"

"Yes, Mysinger, you are a n.o.ble fellow, and have always done your duty," said the Colonel, patting him on the cheek, and brushing the cold sweat from his brow.