PERSONAL MENTION OF OFFICERS AND MEN--ROCKBRIDGE ARTILLERY--SECOND
ROCKBRIDGE ARTILLERY
As has already been mentioned, the captain under whom the battery was
mustered into service was the Rev. Wm. N. Pendleton, rector of the
Episcopal Church in Lexington, Virginia, who, after the first battle of
Manassas, became chief of artillery of the Army of Northern Virginia.
His only son, Alexander S. Pendleton, graduated at Washington College at
the age of 18. He entered the army from the University of Virginia at
the beginning of the war as lieutenant on General Jackson's staff, and
rose through the various grades of promotion to the rank of
lieutenant-colonel. After General Jackson's death he continued to fill
the position of adjutant to the succeeding commanders of the corps until
he fell in battle near Winchester, in 1864. He was one of the bravest
and most efficient staff officers in the Army of Northern Virginia.
The captains of the battery under whom I served were three uncommonly
brave and capable officers.
The first, William McLaughlin, after making an enviable record with the
company, distinguished himself as commander of a battalion of artillery
in General Early's company in 1864.
The second, Captain W. T. Poague, whose reputation for efficiency and
courage won for him the command of a battalion of artillery in A. P.
Hill's corps, was amply equipped with both intelligence and valor to
have handled an army division with credit to himself and advantage to
the service.
The third, Archibald Graham, who was appointed a sergeant upon the
organization of the company, then elected a lieutenant, and for the last
two years of the war captain, had the distinction of having been in
every engagement in which the battery took part from Hainesville, in
1861, to Appomattox in 1865. His dreamy, brown eyes kindled most at the
sound of good music, and where the noise of battle was greatest, and
shells flew thickest, there Graham lingered, as if courting danger.
Our First Lieut. W. M. Brown, a brave officer, wounded and captured at
Gettysburg, remained in prison from that time until the close of the
war.
Lieut. J. B. McCorkle, a noble fellow and recklessly brave, was killed
at first Fredericksburg.
As stated in this paper, besides those regularly enrolled in the company
were men who did more or less service with it, but whose names do not
appear on the roll. For example, Bernard Wolfe, of Martinsburg, served
in this capacity for a time previous to and in the first battle of
Manassas, and later became major of commissary on General Pendleton's
staff.
Chapman Maupin, of Charlottesville, son of Professor Maupin, of the
University of Virginia, served during part of the campaign of 1862, was
with the battery in several battles, and enlisted afterward in the
Signal Corps.
That so many intelligent and educated men from outside of Rockbridge
were attracted to this company was primarily due to the fact that the
Rev. W. N. Pendleton, its captain until after first Manassas, was a
graduate of West Point and was widely known as a clergyman and educator.
After his promotion the character of the company itself accomplished the
same effect.
Of the names on the roll there were four A. M.'s and a score of students
of the University of Virginia. There were at least twenty graduates of
Washington College, and as many undergraduates, and many graduates and
students of other colleges.
Among the privates in the company was a son and namesake of General R.
E. Lee, whose presence in such a capacity was characteristic of his
noble father, when it seemed so natural and surely the custom to have
provided him with a commission. That the son should have the instincts
and attributes of a soldier was not surprising; but, with these
inherited gifts, his individuality, in which uniform cheerfulness,
consideration for others, and enjoyment of fun were prominent features,
won for him the esteem and affection of his comrades. When it fell to
his lot, as a cannoneer, to supply temporarily the place of a sick or
wounded driver, he handled and cared for his horses as diligently and
with as much pride as when firing a gun.
Two sons of Ex-President Tyler, one of whom--Gardiner--represented his
district in Congress.
A son of Commodore Porter, of the United States Navy.
Walter and Joseph Packard, descendants of Charles Lee, who was a brother
of Light-Horse Harry Lee.
* * * * *
The beautiful character of Randolph Fairfax, a descendant of Lord
Fairfax, who was killed on December 13, 1862, on that fatal hill near
Fredericksburg, has been worthily portrayed in a memoir by the Rev.
Philip Slaughter. More than ten thousand copies of this memoir were
distributed through the army at the expense of General Lee, Gen. J. E.
B. Stuart, and other officers and men, and no better idea of the exalted
character of young Fairfax can be conveyed, than by extracts copied from
this little volume:
"'REV. P. SLAUGHTER.
"'DEAR SIR: Please receive enclosed a contribution ($100) to the very
laudable work alluded to in church by you to-day. It is very desirable
to place the example of Private Randolph Fairfax before every soldier
of the army. I am particularly desirous that my command should have the
advantage of such a Christian light to guide them on their way. How
invincible would an army of such men be!--men who never murmur and who
never flinch!
"'Very truly yours,
"'J. E. B. STUART.'
"Berkeley Minor says:
"'I knew Randolph Fairfax at the University quite well, but not so
intimately as I did after he joined this company (the Rockbridge
Battery). For several months before his death I was his messmate and
bedfellow, and was able to note more fully the tone of earnest piety
that pervaded his words and actions. He was unselfish, modest, and
uniformly kind and considerate to all. If there was one trait in him
more striking than others, it was his calm, earnest, trustful demeanor
in time of battle, resulting, I believe, from his abiding trust in the
providence and love of God. Many fine young men have been removed by
death from this company, yet I do not think that any has been more
deeply lamented than he.'
"Joseph Packard, another of his comrades, writes:
"'His cheerful courage, his coolness and steadiness, made him
conspicuous in every battlefield. At the battle of Malvern Hill, where
he had received a wound which nine men out of ten would have considered
an excuse for retiring from the awful scene, he persisted in remaining
at his post, and did the work of two until the battery had left the
field. But it was in the bearing, more than in the daring, of the
soldier's life that his lovely character displayed itself. He never
avoided the most trying and irksome duties. If he had selfishness, those
who knew him long and well as schoolmates and comrades never discerned
it. More than once I have heard his beautiful Christian example spoken
of by irreligious comrades. Bitter and inexplicable as may be the
Providence which has removed one so full of promise of good to his
fellows, I feel that we may thank God that we have been permitted to
witness a life so Christ-like terminated by a death so noble.'
"Captain Poague, commanding the Rockbridge Battery, says in a letter to
his father:
"'In simple justice to your son, I desire to express my high
appreciation of his noble character as a soldier, a Christian, and
gentleman. Modest and courteous in his deportment, charitable and
unselfish in his disposition, cheerful and conscientious in his
performance of duty, and upright and consistent in his walk and
conversation, he was a universal favorite in the company, and greatly
beloved by his friends. I don't think I have ever known a young man
whose life was so free from the frailties of human nature, and whose
character in all aspects formed so faultless a model for the imitation
of others. Had his influence been restricted to the silent power and
beauty of his example, his life on earth, short as it was, would not
have been in vain. The name of Randolph Fairfax will not soon be
forgotten by his comrades, and his family may be assured that there are
many who, strangers as they are, deeply sympathize with them in their
bereavement.'
"The following from General Lee will be a fit climax to the foregoing
tributes:
"'CAMP FREDERICKSBURG, December 28, 1862.
"'MY DEAR DOCTOR: I have grieved most deeply at the death of your noble
son. I have watched his conduct from the commencement of the war, and
have pointed with pride to the patriotism, self-denial, and manliness of
character he has exhibited. I had hoped that an opportunity would have
occurred for the promotion he deserved; not that it would have elevated
him, but have shown that his devotion to duty was appreciated by his
country. Such an opportunity would undoubtedly have occurred; but he has
been translated to a better world for which his purity and his piety
have eminently fitted him. You do not require to be told how great his
gain. It is the living for whom I sorrow. I beg you will offer to Mrs.
Fairfax and your daughters my heartfelt sympathy, for I know the depth
of their grief. That God may give you and them strength to bear this
great affliction is the earnest prayer of your early friend,
"'R. E. LEE.'
"'Dr. Orlando Fairfax.'"
[Illustration: RANDOLPH FAIRFAX]
A son and two nephews of Hon. A. R. Boteler.
A son of Governor Gilmer, of Virginia.
S. H. Letcher, brother of War-Governor John Letcher.
Mercer Otey, graduate of Virginia Military Institute and son of Bishop
Otey, of Tennessee.
Launcelot M. Blackford, A. M., of University of Virginia, who became
adjutant of the Twenty-sixth Virginia Infantry, and Superintendent of
the Alexandria High School from the close of the war to the present
time--forty-one years. He has said to the writer since the war that he
cherished the fact of his having been a private in the Rockbridge
Artillery with more pride than he felt in any honors he has since
achieved.
Robert A. Gibson, of Petersburg, Virginia, now a bishop of Virginia.
Livingston Massie, of Waynesboro, who became captain of another battery
and was killed in General Early's battle of Winchester.
Hugh McGuire, of Winchester, brother of Dr. Hunter McGuire, medical
director of Jackson's corps, whose gallantry won for him a captaincy in
cavalry and lost him his life on the retreat to Appomattox.
Boyd Faulkner, of Martinsburg, son of Hon. Charles J. Faulkner.
Two Bartons from Winchester.
Two Maurys and three Minors from Charlottesville.
Other members of the company, of whom much that is interesting could be
written, were Edgar and Eugene Alexander, of Moorefield, West Virginia,
uncles of the authoress, Miss Mary Johnston. The first named lost an
arm at Fredericksburg, the second had his thigh-bone broken at second
Manassas.
William H. Bolling, of Petersburg, Virginia, the handsomest of eight
handsome brothers and a most polished gentleman.
Holmes Boyd, of Winchester, now a distinguished lawyer of that city.
Daniel Blaine, of Williamsburg, since the war a Presbyterian divine.
Robert Frazer, of Culpeper, an accomplished scholar and prominent
educator.
William L. Gilliam, of Powhatan County.
Campbell Heiskell, of Moorefield.
J. K. Hitner, who, though a native of Pennsylvania, fought through the
war for the South.
William F. Johnston, of Rockbridge, a sterling man and soldier.
Edward Hyde, of Alexandria, an excellent artist, who devoted most of his
time in camp to drawing sketches of army life. He has recently written
me that his drawings were lost in a canoe in which he attempted to cross
James River on his journey from Appomattox. Otherwise some of them would
have appeared in this book.
Otho Kean, of Goochland County, Virginia.
John E. McCauley, of Rockbridge, sergeant of the battery.
William S. McClintic, now a prominent citizen of Missouri.
D. D. Magruder, of Frederick County, Virginia.
Littleton Macon, of Albemarle County, whose utterances became
proverbial.
Frank Meade and Frank Nelson, of Albemarle County.
W. C. Gordon, of Lexington, Virginia.
Jefferson Ruffin, of Henrico.
J. M. Shoulder, of Rockbridge.
W. C. Stuart, of Lexington, Virginia.
Stevens M. Taylor, of Albemarle County, Virginia.
Charles M. Trueheart, now a physician in Galveston, Texas.
Thomas M. Wade, of Lexington, Virginia.
W. H. White, of Lexington, Virginia.
Calvin Wilson, of Cumberland County.
John Withrow, of Lexington, Virginia.
William M. Wilson, of Rockbridge, who went by the name of "Billy Zu.,"
abbreviated for zouave; and many other fine fellows, most of whom have
long since "passed over the river."
A. S. Whitt, gunner of the fourth piece, whose failure to throw a
twenty-pound shell "within a hair's breadth and not miss" could be
attributed only to defective ammunition.
In this company were all classes of society and all grades of
intelligence, from the most cultured scholars to the lowest degree of
illiteracy. We had men who had formerly been gentlemen of leisure,
lawyers, physicians, students of divinity, teachers, merchants, farmers
and mechanics, ranging in age from boys of seventeen to matured men in
the forties and from all parts of the South and several from Northern
States, as well as Irish and Germans. At one camp-fire could be heard
discussions on literature, philosophy, science, etc., and at another
horse-talk. The tone of the company was decidedly moral, and there was
comparatively little profanity. In addition to the services conducted by
the chaplain of the battalion, Rev. Henry White, prayer-meetings were
regularly held by the theological students. Then we had men that swore
like troopers. "Irish Emmett," whose face was dotted with grains of
powder imbedded under the skin, could growl out oaths through
half-clenched teeth that chilled one's blood.
One man, Michael, a conscript from another county, a full-grown man,
weighing perhaps one hundred and seventy-five pounds, was a chronic
cry-baby; unfit for other service, he was assigned assistant at the
forge, and would lie with face to the ground and moan out, "I want to go
home, I want to go home," and sob by the hour.
Another, a primitive man from the German forests, whose language was
scarcely intelligible, lived entirely to himself and constructed his
shelter of brush and leaves--as would a bear preparing to hibernate. In
his ignorance of the use of an axe I saw him, in felling a tree, "throw"
it so that it fell on and killed a horse tied nearby. On seeing what he
had done, his lamentation over the dying animal was pathetic.
As a school for the study of human nature, that afforded in the various
conditions of army life is unsurpassed--a life in which danger,
fatigue, hunger, etc., leave no room for dissimulation, and expose the
good and bad in each individual to the knowledge of his associates.
It sometimes fell to my lot to be on guard-duty with Tom Martin, an
Irishman who was over forty-five and exempt from military service, but
was soldiering for the love of it. Sometimes he was very taciturn and
entirely absorbed with his short-stemmed pipe; at other times full of
humor and entertaining. He gave me an account, one night while on post,
of what he called his "great flank movement"--in other words, a visit to
his home in Rockbridge without leave. After Doran, another Irishman, had
been disabled at Malvern Hill and discharged from service, he became a
sort of huckster for the battery and would make trips to and from
Rockbridge with a wagon-load of boxes from our homes and also a supply
of apple-brandy. While camped at Bunker Hill in the fall of 1862,
shortly after Doran arrived with his load, Captain Poague, observing
more than an ordinary degree of hilarity among some of the men, had the
wagon searched, the brandy brought forth, confiscated, and emptied on
the ground. Martin, greatly outraged at the illtreatment of a fellow-son
of Erin, and still more so at the loss of so much good liquor, forthwith
resolved to take his revenge on the Captain by taking "French leave."
To escape the vigilance of provost-guards and deserter-hunters, he made
his way to the foothills of the North Mountain, and in the course of
his journey stumbled on a still-house in one of its secluded glens. To
the proprietor, who was making a run of apple-brandy, and who proved to
be "a man after me own heart," Martin imparted his grievances. "I tould
him," said he, "I hadn't a cint, but he poured me a tin chuck-full. With
thanks in me eyes I turned off the whole of it, then kindled me pipe and
stood close by the still. Ah! me lad, how the liquor wint through me! In
thray minits I didn't care a domn for all the captins in old Stonewall's
army!"
With various adventures he made his way home, returned to the company of
his own accord, was wounded at Gettysburg, captured, and spent the
remainder of war-time in prison.
Rader, who drove the lead-horses at my gun almost throughout the war, is
mentioned elsewhere, but his record, as well as his pranks and drollery,
coupled with his taciturnity, were interesting. While sitting on his
saddle-horse in one battle he was knocked full length to the ground by a
bursting shell. When those nearby ran to pick him up they asked if he
was much hurt. "No," he said, "I am just skeered to death." At
Sharpsburg, while lying down, holding his gray mares, a shell tore a
trench close alongside of him and hoisted him horizontally into the air.
On recovering his feet he staggered off, completely dazed by the
concussion. In the first battle of Fredericksburg he was struck and
disabled for a time. At Gettysburg, as the same animals, frightened by
a bursting shell, wheeled to run, he seized the bridle of the leader
just as it was struck by a shell, which burst at the moment, instantly
killing the two grays and the two horses next to them, and stunning
Rader as before. But, with all of his close calls, his skin was never
broken. Instead of currying his horses during the time allotted for that
work he seemed to occupy himself teaching them "tricks," but his was the
best-groomed team in the battery.
While on guard one cold night, as the wagon drivers were sleeping
quietly on a bed of loose straw near a blazing fire, I saw Rader creep
up stealthily and apply a torch at several places, wait until it was
well ignited, and then run and yell "Fire!" then repeat the sport an
hour later. Vanpelt carried an enormous knapsack captured from Banks and
branded "10th Maine." While halting on the march it was Rader's
amusement, especially when some outsider was passing by, to set his
whip-stock as a prop under it, go through the motions of grinding, and
rattle off the music of a hand-organ with his mouth until chased away by
his victim. He mysteriously vanished from Rockbridge after the war, and
has never since been located.
One of the most striking characters in the company was "General" Jake,
as we called him, whose passion for war kept him always in the army,
while his aversion to battle kept him always in the rear. After serving
a year with us, being over military age, he got a discharge, but soon
joined the Rockbridge cavalry as a substitute, where six legs, instead
of two, afforded three-fold opportunities. An interview between the
"General" and one of our company, as he viewed the former and was struck
with his appearance, was as follows:
"Well, 'General,' you are the most perfect-looking specimen of a soldier
I ever beheld. That piercing eye, the grizzly mustache, the firm jaw,
the pose of the head, that voice--in fact, the whole make-up fills to
the full the measure of a man of war."
The "General," with a graceful bow and a deep roll in his voice,
replied, "Sire, in enumerating the items which go to constitute a great
general I notice the omission of one requisite, the absence of which in
my outfit lost to the cause a genius in council and a mighty leader in
battle."
"What was that, 'General'?"
"Sire, it goes by the name of Cour-ridge."
* * * * *
Estimates of things are governed by comparison, and no better idea of
the Southern army could be had than that given by a knowledge of its
numbers, equipment, etc., as compared with those of its adversary
throughout the four years of the war. This can be illustrated by a
sketch of the Rockbridge Artillery in that respect, beginning with its
entrance into service, as a type of the whole army.
The guns with which this company set out from Lexington were two
smooth-bore six-pound brass pieces used by Stonewall Jackson for
drilling the cadets at the Virginia Military Institute, which were
coupled together and drawn by one pair of horses to Staunton. I must
pause here and relate an incident which occurred at that period, in
which these guns played a part. Among the cadets was one--Hountsell--who
was considered as great an enigma as Jackson himself. In some of the
various evolutions of the drill it was necessary for the cadets to trot.
This gait Hountsell failed to adopt, and was reported to the
superintendent with the specification "for failing to trot." Hountsell
handed in his written excuse as follows, "I am reported by Major Jackson
for failing, at artillery drill, to trot. My excuse is, I am a natural
pacer." It would be interesting to know the workings of Stonewall's mind
when perusing this reply.
After reaching Harper's Ferry two more six-pound brass pieces were
received for this battery from Richmond. As there were no caissons for
these four guns, farm-wagons were used, into which boxes of ammunition,
together with chests containing rations for the men, were loaded. In
addition to friction-primers of modern invention at that time for firing
cannon, the old-time "slow matches" and "port-fires" were in stock. So
that, in preparing for battle with General Patterson's army at
Hainesville on July 2, 1861, the ammunition-boxes, provision-chests,
etc., being loaded indiscriminately into the same wagon, were all taken
out and placed on the ground. The "port-fire," adjusted in a brass tube
on the end of a wooden stick, was lighted, and the stick stuck in the
ground by the gun, to give a light in case the friction-primer failed.
This provision was due to the fact that Captain Pendleton was familiar
with the "port-fire," in vogue when he attended West Point. On finding
that the friction-primer was reliable, the "port-fires" were left
sticking in the ground when the guns withdrew, and were captured and
taken as curiosities by the Federals.
After returning to Winchester, ammunition-chests were ordered to be made
by a carpenter of the town. Gen. Joe Johnston, then in command of the
forces, went in person with Lieutenant Poague, and, as the latter
expressed it, reprimanded this carpenter most unmercifully for his
tardiness in the work. The chests were then quickly completed and placed
on wagon-gears, which outfits served as caissons, and thus equipped the
battery marched to and fought at first Manassas. From captures there
made, these crude contrivances were replaced with regular caissons, and
for two of the six-pound brass pieces two rifled ten-pound Parrotts were
substituted and two heavier six-pound brass pieces added, making a
six-gun battery. Also the farm-wagon harness was exchanged for regular
artillery harness.
The revolution in the character of Confederate field ordnance
thenceforward continued, and every new and improved weapon we had to
confront in one battle we had to wield against our foes, its inventors,
in the next.
For a short time previous to and in the battle of Kernstown the battery
had eight guns, two of which, made at the Tredegar Works in Richmond,
were of very inferior quality and were soon discarded. The long and
trying campaign of 1862 gradually reduced the number of guns to four,
two of which were twenty-pound Parrotts captured at Harper's Ferry, one
a twelve-pound Napoleon captured at Richmond, and one a six-pound brass
piece. The two last were replaced by two more twenty-pound Parrotts
captured from Milroy at Winchester in June, 1863. Each of these guns
required a team of eight horses and as many to a caisson. They were
recaptured at Deep Bottom below Richmond in July, 1864.
The battery's connection with the Stonewall Brigade was severed October
1, at the close of the memorable campaign of 1862, and under the new
régime became a part of the First Regiment Virginia Artillery, commanded
by Col. J. Thompson Brown, afterward by Col. R. A. Hardaway. This
regiment was made up of the second and third companies of Richmond
Howitzers, the Powhatan battery commanded by Captain Dance, the Roanoke
battery commanded by Captain Griffin, and Rockbridge battery commanded
by Captain Graham, with four guns to each of the five batteries.
Our new companions proved to be a fine lot of men, and with them many
strong and lasting friendships were formed.
An idea of the spirit with which the Southern people entered into the
war can best be conveyed by some account of the wild enthusiasm created
by the troops and the unbounded hospitality lavished upon them as they
proceeded to their destinations along the border.
The Rockbridge Artillery traveled by rail from Staunton to Strasburg. On
their march of eighteen miles from there to Winchester they were
preceded by the "Grayson Dare-devils" of Virginia, one hundred strong,
armed with Mississippi rifles and wearing red-flannel shirts. A mile or
two in advance of this company was the Fourth Alabama Regiment,
numbering eight hundred men. The regiment, on its arrival at Newtown, a
small village six miles from Winchester, was provided by the citizens
with a sumptuous dinner. Then the "Dare-devils" were likewise
entertained; but still the supplies and hospitality of the people were
not exhausted, as the battery, on its arrival, was served with a
bountiful meal.
When the battery reached Winchester their two small guns were stored for
the night in a warehouse, and the men lodged and entertained in private
houses. On the following day the company went by rail to Harper's Ferry,
arriving there after dark. The place was then under command of Col. T.
J. Jackson, who was soon after superseded by Gen. Joseph E. Johnston.
The trains over the B. & O. Railroad were still running. Evidences of
the John Brown raid were plainly visible, and the engine-house in which
he and his men barricaded themselves and were captured by the marines,
commanded by Col. R. E. Lee, of the United States Army, stood as at the
close of that affair.
One or both sections of the battery were often engaged in picket service
along the Potomac between Shepherdstown and Williamsport, in connection
with the Second Virginia Regiment, which was composed of men from the
adjoining counties. Their camps and bivouacs were constantly visited by
the neighboring people, especially ladies, who came by the score in
carriages and otherwise, provided with abundant refreshments for the
inner man. As described by those who participated in it all, the days
passed as a series of military picnics, in which there was no suspicion
or suggestion of the serious times that were to follow. During the
progress of the war, while these outward demonstrations, of necessity,
diminished, the devotion on the part of the grand women of that
war-swept region only increased.
I have not undertaken to describe scenes or relate incidents which
transpired in the battery before I became a member of it. But there is
one scene which was often referred to by those who witnessed it which is
worthy of mention. It occurred in the fall of 1861, near Centerville,
when a portion of the army, under Gen. Joe Johnston, was returning from
the front, where an attack had been threatened, and was passing along
the highway. A full moon was shining in its splendor, lighting up the
rows of stacked arms, parks of artillery, and the white tents which
dotted the plain on either side. As column after column, with bands
playing and bayonets glistening, passed, as it were, in review, there
came, in its turn, the First Maryland Regiment headed by its drum corps
of thirty drums rolling in martial time. Next came the First Virginia
Regiment with its superb band playing the "Mocking-Bird," the shrill
strains of the cornet, high above the volume of the music, pouring forth
in exquisite clearness the notes of the bird. Scarcely had this melody
passed out of hearing when there came marching by, in gallant style, the
four batteries of the Washington Artillery, of New Orleans, with
officers on horseback and cannoneers mounted on the guns and caissons,
all with sabers waving in cadence to the sound of their voices, singing,
in its native French, "The Marseillaise," that grandest of all national
airs.
The younger generation cannot comprehend, and express surprise that the
old soldiers never forget and are so wrought up by the recollections of
their war experiences; but to have participated in a scene such as this
will readily explain why a soul should thrill at its recurring mention.
In 1883, nearly twenty years after the war, I was called to Cumberland,
Maryland, on business. By reason of a reunion of the Army of the
Cumberland being held there at the time, the hotels were crowded,
making it necessary for me to find accommodations in a boarding-house.
Sitting around the front door of the house, as I entered, were half a
dozen Federal soldiers discussing war-times. The window of the room to
which I was assigned opened immediately over where the men sat, and as I
lay in bed I heard them recount their experiences in battle after battle
in which I had taken part. It stirred me greatly. Next morning they had
gone out when I went down to breakfast, but I told the lady of the house
of my interest in their talk of the previous night. At noon the same
party was sitting in the hall, having finished their dinners, as I
passed through to mine. They greeted me cordially and said, "We heard of
what you said about overhearing us last night; take a seat and let's
discuss old times." My answer was, "I have met you gentlemen already on
too many battlefields with an empty stomach, so wait till I get my
dinner." With a hearty laugh this was approved of, and I joined them
soon after. Most of them were from Ohio and West Virginia. They said,
though, as I was but one against six, to say what I pleased; and for an
hour or more we discussed, good-humoredly, many scenes of mutual
interest.
* * * * *
The following lines are recalled from Merrick's songs:
"Och hone, by the man in the moon!
You taze me all ways that a woman can plaze;
For you dance twice as high with that thief, Pat McGhee,
As you do when you're dancing a jig, Love, with me;
Though the piper I'd bate, for fear the old chate
Wouldn't play you your favorite chune.
"Och hone, don't provoke me to do it,
For there are girls by the score
That would have me and more.
Sure there's Katy Nale, that would jump if I'd say,
'Katy Nale, name the day.'
And though you are fresh and fair as the flowers in May,
And she's short and dark as a cowld winter's day,
If you don't repent before Easter, when Lent
Is over, I'll marry for spite."
SAINT PATRICK
"A fig for St. Denis of France!
He's a trumpery fellow to brag on.
A fig for St. George and his lance!
Who splitted a heathenish dragon.
The saints of the Welshman and Scot
Are a pair of pitiful pipers,
Both of whom may just travel to pot,
Compared with the patron of swipers--
St. Patrick of Ireland, my boy!
"Och! he came to the Emerald Isle
On a lump of a paving-stone mounted;
The steamboat he beat by a mile,
Which mighty good sailing was counted.
Said he, 'The salt-water, I think,
Makes me most bloodily thirsty,
So fetch me a flagon of drink
To wash down the mullygrubs, burst ye!
A drink that is fit for a saint.'
"The pewter he lifted _in sport_,
And, believe me, I tell you no fable,
A gallon he drank from the quart
And planted it down on the table.
'A miracle!' every one cried,
And they all took a pull at the stingo.
They were capital hands at the trade,
And they drank till they fell; yet, by jingo!
The pot still frothed over the brim.
"'Next day,' quoth his host, 'is a fast
And there is naught in my larder but mutton.
On Friday who would serve such repast,
Except an unchristianlike glutton?'
Says Pat, 'Cease your nonsense, I beg;
What you tell me is nothing but gammon.
Take my compliments down to the leg
And bid it walk hither, a salmon.'
The leg most politely complied.
"Oh! I suppose you have heard, long ago,
How the snakes, in a manner quite antic,
He marched from the County Mayo
And trundled them into the Atlantic.
So not to use water for drink,
The people of Ireland determined.
And for a mighty good reason, I think,
Since St. Patrick has filled it with vermin
And vipers and other such stuff.
* * * * *
"The people, with wonderment struck
At a pastor so pious and civil,
Cried, 'We are for you, my old buck!
And we'll pitch our blind gods to the devil
Who dwells in hot water below.'
"Och! he was an iligant blade
As you'd meet from Fairhead to Killkrumper,
And, though under the sod he is laid,
Here goes his health in a bumper!
I wish he was here, that my glass
He might, by art-magic, replenish--
But as he is not, why, alas!
My ditty must come to a finish,
Because all the liquor is out."
* * * * *
THE SECOND ROCKBRIDGE ARTILLERY
The second Rockbridge Artillery Company, organized July 10, 1861, like
the first Rockbridge Artillery, was commanded by a clergyman, the Rev.
John Miller, of Princeton, New Jersey, as captain. In honor of his
wife's sister, Miss Lily McDowell, daughter of Governor McDowell, of
Virginia, who furnished in large part the outfit of this company, it was
named "McDowell Guards." She also paid a bounty to a youth under
military age to serve as her personal representative in this company.
Miss McDowell afterward became the wife of Major Bernard Wolfe, whose
service with the Rockbridge Battery has been mentioned.
Owing to lack of artillery equipment, the McDowell Guards served as
infantry until January, 1862, in the Fifty-second Virginia Regiment, in
West Virginia. I heard Captain Miller relate this anecdote, which
occurred in the battle of Alleghany Mountain, December 12, 1861: A boy
in his company was having a regular duel with a Federal infantryman,
whose shots several times passed close to the boy's head. Finally, when
a bullet knocked his hat off, he defiantly called out to his adversary,
"Hey! You didn't git me that time, nuther. You didn't git me nary a
time!"
In the early part of 1862 the McDowell Guards secured artillery and did
excellent service in McIntosh's battalion of A. P. Hill's corps until
the close of the war.