PART 1.

ENLISTMENT--DEPARTURE--THE VOYAGE--HATTERAS--UP THE

NEUSE--NEWBERN--AN ACCOUNT OF THE 17TH--ON PICKET--DOING

PROVOST DUTY IN NEWBERN, ETC.

It has been said that man is essentially a "fighting animal,"--that

in this "world's broad field of battle" his life, from the cradle to

the grave, is one continued struggle against want and its attendant

circumstances,--and that he is the greatest who, be his position

what it may, acts well his part. If this be true--and I think it

is--then the man who goes to the war only exchanges one mode of

strife for another--"the whips and scorns of time," for interminable

drilling, "hard tack and salt horse,"--"the oppressor's wrong," for

the hardships of the march and the dangers of the battle,--"the proud

man's contumely," for the murmurings at home that he does not "clean

out" the rebels in a week or two,--"the law's delay," for the tedium

of garrison and camp life,--"the insolence of office," for the rule

(not always gentle or humane) of men placed over him,--and the "bare

bodkin," for the sword and the bayonet. And yet--and yet--

"Ah me! what perils do environ

The man that meddles with cold iron!

What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps

Do dog him still with after claps!"

The severe checks and disasters experienced by the Union arms in

the Spring campaign of 1862, culminating in the "seven days' fight"

before Richmond, and the retreat of McClellan's noble but suffering

and crippled army to James river, while it spread sorrow and mourning

throughout the land, had the effect of awakening those in power to a

full sense of the nation's peril. When the President called for more

men, thereby giving effect to the wishes of the loyal people, I was

one of those who helped to swell the volume of that mighty response

which echoed back from the hills and prairies, cities and villages,

towns and hamlets:

"We are coming, father Abraham, three hundred thousand more!"

Like others, I had to mourn the loss of a friend,--a brave young

fellow, who was killed in the second of the "seven days' fight," and

determined to fill his place, if I could.

On the 4th of August, 1862, I entered my name as a "raw recruit" for

Co. F, 19th Mass. Reg't, as one of the quota of the town of Malden.

A friend, struck by my example, or, perhaps, being in that state of

mind which needs but little to turn one way or the other, joined with

me; but upon going to the office in Boston where enlistments for the

19th were "done up," we were told recruiting for it was stopped.

How times have altered since then,--now, I believe, it would take a

battalion to fill it. We were in a fix (at least I was, who wished

to go in the 19th), but there was a remedy at hand. A recruiting

officer for the 17th, who had an office in Union street, received us

willingly, and after being examined and sworn in, we were packed off,

with some twenty other recruits, to Camp Cameron in North Cambridge.

It was late in the evening when we arrived there, and no preparation

being made for us--owing, I suppose, to the constant and rapid influx

of recruits, which taxed to their utmost the various departments to

fit out and provide for,--we had to turn in, supperless, to a bunk of

downy boards, with no covering but our thin citizens' summer clothes.

I thought it was a very uncomfortable resting place at the time, but

it was nothing to what I have since known in the way of sleeping

accommodation. The next morning I had leisure to look around me and

take a survey of the mass of human nature that there commingled

for the first time. And truly it was a heterogeneous compound of

representatives of nearly every race of people in Europe, and

plentifully sprinkled among them was the leaven of the whole--smart,

shrewd, intelligent, quick-eyed and quick-witted Americans. And such

a confusing babble as prevailed I never heard before. Wrangling and

swearing, drinking and eating, talking and laughing,--all combined

to give me no very agreeable foretaste of what I had to expect in my

new vocation. I noticed others, new, like myself, to such scenes, who

seemed mentally dumbfounded, or unconsciously comparing the quiet

routine of the life they led at home to the new one they had assumed,

and, no doubt, to the great advantage of the former and dislike

for the latter. But happily for us all, being the creatures of

circumstances, the pliability of our natures leads us to be quickly

reconciled to our lot, whatever it may be. The change of life from a

citizen to that of a soldier is so radical that few like it at first;

but by degrees it becomes endurable, and finally, often, desirable.

The recent re-enlistments prove this.

There were several "characters" among the recruits in camp, to whom,

if I could, I would devote a few pages, as well as to management of

the camp and the method of dovetailing a little _innocent_ private

business into that of the public, as practiced by some of the

little-great men in authority there; but as paper costs 22 cents per

pound, I am warned that I must leave out here and condense there,

which is not so pleasant after all.

Men were arriving every day in squads of from twenty to fifty,

and leaving at intervals in detachments of from 100 to 500, to be

distributed among their respective regiments at the seat of war.

At length our turn came. It was on a Friday.--Now, Friday, though

generally considered by superstitious persons an unlucky day, has

often proved a lucky one for me. I was born on Friday; was married

on Friday; and now I started to go to the war on Friday. I shouldn't

wonder if on some Friday in the future I would die--and that will

be another great event in my life. Well, we started on a Friday

afternoon, and taking the cars at the Old Colony depot in Boston and

the boat at Fall River, found ourselves next morning in the city of

New York. We were quartered in barracks on White street, furnished

with filthy beds, miserable "grub," and allowed free range of the

city. A lieutenant (from Haverhill, I believe) had charge of our

squad, which numbered about a hundred, and some of his enthusiastic

admirers in the crowd presented him with a sword. There was, of

course, a presentation speech, enthusiastic, pathetic, patriotic

and warlike, and a response suitable and sentimental. It made a

good impression on me at the time; but then I had yet to learn

the difference between what an Indian would call "talk fight" and

"fightem."

On the following Monday afternoon, with all "traps" snugly bestowed

and knapsacks strapped on, we were drawn up in front of the barracks,

when the lieutenant stepped out in front and proposed three cheers

for the barrack-master, which were given; but I did not join in, even

in dumb show, having too much conscientiousness to outrage the finer

feelings of my stomach by cheering for an individual who had cheated

and abused it. We then took up our line of march for the transport,

and went along almost unnoticed save by a few patriotic individuals

who bade us a fervent God-speed and wished that good-fortune might

attend us wherever we went; but the great mass seemed hardened

to the sight of their fellow men going away from amongst them to

explore unknown fields of danger, and to purchase with their life's

blood a continuance and perpetuity of that nationality which has

made the United States of America the first among nations. As these

thoughts entered my mind, they suggested the picture of the hundreds

of thousands of devoted men who passed through this great city,

with all their hardest and most bitter experiences--hardships and

dangers, sickness and death--before them, many, very many of them to

return again no more; and I began to realize that, though still in

a land of peace and plenty, a few days would bring me out upon far

different scenes and into circumstances that would require a bold

heart to meet as they ought to be met. Luckily for us all, the future

cannot be penetrated, or we should be mourning calamities before they

befall us; dreading dangers before they threaten, and finally become

unmanned at the awful prospect impending over our future. Still there

is in the expectancy of danger something that is fascinating, and

something, too, that even while we dread we seek; and this feeling,

the result of a strange curiosity, enlivened by hope and the love

of excitement, is what often keeps up the spirit of the soldier

and urges him on, even when worn out with fatigue and well-nigh

exhausted, to renewed energy and more determined acts of bravery.

The transport we embarked upon was a dilapidated steamer called the

"Haze" (who that ever took passage in her to or from Dixie can forget

the old tub?), a miserably appointed vessel, whose officers and crew

seemed better fitted for the penitentiary than for the station they

held. It was in this vessel that I first learnt some of the hardships

and inconveniences of a soldier's life. Just before the hawser was

cast off, an Irish apple-woman came on board, her basket well laden

with fruit, and said--"Come, me poor boys; it's not many of these

ye'll get in the place ye're goin' to--so help yerselves! 'Tis all I

have to give ye, except me blessin'--and may God bless ye all, and

bring ye safe back agin to the frinds ye have at home!"

She then proceeded to distribute the apples (and fine ones they

were) to the boys, many of whom, thinking more of the apples than

the blessing, rushed eagerly in saying, "bully for you, old lady!"

nearly overturning her in their desire to possess as much of the

fruit as possible. As for me, I was content to let them have the

fruit--the blessing and good wishes of the warm-hearted old woman

was all-sufficient for my desires. She stepped ashore, and as she

disappeared in the crowd on the pier, I heard one of the lucky ones,

who was luxuriating in the fruits of his scramble, remark to another

lucky one,--"D--d good apples!--that's a bully old woman,--how did

you like her malediction?" "Big thing," was the response.

The hawser was finally cast off, and, backing slowly out of the

dock, the steamer was soon under full headway down the bay. What

my emotions were as I gazed (perhaps) for the last time upon the

surrounding scenes, I will not tire the reader by giving expression

to,--doubtless they resembled in a manner those of thousands of

others who had gone the same road before me. My comrades, however, as

a general thing, were merry, and talked of the promised land (Dixie)

in a tone that showed how high their hopes ran; but presently, as

we passed Sandy Hook, and the regular and continuous swell of the

ocean set in, many who were before lively as kittens became tame and

wretched-looking enough. It was dark before we passed the Highlands,

and, though we could not see the Jersey shore we heard of it from the

breakers, here and there catching glimpses of lights which told us

that even among its barren sands many had found homes. But let Jersey

pass, and Delaware, and Virginia's eastern shore--"away, away down

South in Dixie" we go. But how few, comparatively, of our detachment

were now so eager, after encountering one enemy, to meet another?

And yet, I verily believe, many of these poor fellows would prefer

at that time to run their chances in battle (if only on the land)

than be tossed about at the mercy of the waves and so thoroughly

sea-sick. As for me, whose somewhat eventful life had often before

sent me "down to the sea in ships," I had no feelings of nausea, and

consequently enjoyed the surroundings, the fresh, bracing sea air

seeming to instil new vigor into my frame, which twenty years of toil

in a printing office (with short intermissions) had tended to impair.

Thus situated I could look about me, and I observed some who were

formerly the jolliest of our band now the saddest and most forlorn.

One in particular (a fine young fellow, whom we dubbed "the colonel")

who had been the life of our party, now, pale and sad, with not a

word to say, lay doubled up inside the coils of a hawser, as forlorn

as the Wandering Jew (by Eugene Sue). It was no more, with him,

"Away daown Saouth in a few days--hooray!" We passed the Chesapeake,

(Fortress Monroe,) Cape Henry and the dismal coast beyond, and on

the third evening neared land to the north of Cape Hatteras.--But

such land! A long, low bar of sand, stretching away as far as the eye

could reach, relieved at intervals by huge hummocks covered with a

stunted growth of trees, whose ragged and forlorn limbs and inclined

position made them appear as if a fierce hurricane all the while tore

through their branches, threatening to uproot and cast them away

forever. "There," said I to the 'colonel,' who had come upon deck

when he heard we were near Hatteras, and stood beside me grasping

the rail,--"There is Dixie, my jolly 'colonel.' We have come 'away

daown Saouth in a few days,' haven't we; and how do you like the lay

of the land? What--can't you even say 'hooray?'" But only a faint

smile was the answer. Shortly after dark we descried Hatteras light,

which we neared about ten o'clock; but the captain would not venture

in, and so we had to lay "off and on" till daylight, which was no

pleasant job, for "the wind rose and the rain fell," and gave those

who selected the deck for their sleeping place (myself among the

number), with the assistance of an occasional dash of salt water, a

pretty thorough soaking. As soon as it was clear day our craft headed

for the "swash," the wind blowing a small gale, the rain coming in

squalls as if some fretful genius presided over this unhappy coast,

and the waves running in shore like race-horses, spreading their

foam in a thin gray mist over the narrow line of sand, which seemed

endeavoring almost in vain to keep its back above the water. To our

right, and north of the inlet, were the forts taken by Gen. Butler

in his first Coast Expedition. Only one of these, Fort Hatteras, is

now used. The other has either sunk into the sand or been almost

wholly destroyed by the action of the waves. Fort Hatteras is an

earthwork, but so admirably situated as to prove an almost impassible

barrier to anything but ironclads. Beyond and around the fort on the

land or sand side, were a few buildings used for quarters for the

garrison and for ordnance stores. Anchored in the Sound, near by,

were supply ships, transports, and old hulks; while here and there

rows of disconsolate timbers, lifting their dripping heads above the

tide, told the fate of many a noble ship of the glorious Expedition

of Gen. Burnside. We "hove to" after entering the Sound to deliver

the mails for the Fort; and the change from the violent rolling,

tossing and pitching was such as to inspire even my old friend the

'colonel' with something of the spirit he was wont to display ere old

Neptune changed his tune. After taking a look at the Fort and its

surroundings, I turned my eyes to the opposite shore of the inlet,

when lo, there stretched out in an almost straight line from the

point into the Sound a troop or flock of--what? That was the puzzle

to my mind. Were they huge gulls or windbags, cormorants or cranes,

devils or dogfish? Fowl, flesh, or fish? I watched them with close

attention while asking myself these questions; but ere my cogitations

were finished they separated, spread their wings and took flight,

apparently, but it seemed strange they did not rise from the surface

of the water. They neared us presently, and I made them out to be,

instead of birds, small sail-boats. "Love launched a fairy boat," &c.

No love for us there, I guess, was my mental comment. "Pilots," I

heard some one say. They came fluking towards us, their comparatively

large sprit-sails hurrying them along at no contemptible rate of

speed. There were about fifteen of them, and it seemed evident all

could not get a job from our hazy skipper. "That's Jeff.'s navy,"

remarked one.

"Hooray for the boat that's ahead!" sang out the 'colonel.'

"Bully for the little fellow with the big sail!" exclaimed another.

"I'll bet on the cross-gaffed, giraffe-colored one!"

"Bully for the rip-staving roarer that wins!"

"Aint she a-ripping up the old salt water canvas, skearing the sharks

and astonishing the sea sarpints?"

"I'll bet Jeff.'s in that boat, and he's coming to ask us to dine

with him in Richmond!"

"Beauregard's in the second one!"

"No, _sir_, that's Stonewall Jackson!"

"D--n Stonewall Jackson, or any other man!" and remarks of a like

character attested the interest felt in this novel contest by others

as well as myself. The boats were pelting away in fine style, each

having a loose rein. Then hurrah, my hearties! the lucky man wins,

and "first come first served!" Two of the number were distinctly

ahead of all the rest, and one of these slightly ahead of the other.

"But Cutty Sark, before the rest,

Hard upon noble Maggie prest--"

so that when they came up it was difficult to say which was first,

and both came aboard to dispute the point, while the remaining

unsuccessful ones kept on, as if philosophically resigned to a

fate they could not overcome. Our hazy skipper, who was not very

particular about expenses when Uncle Sam had to foot the bills,

and to end all disputes, took both pilots--a piece of diplomacy I

hardly expected his thick head capable of conceiving. The anchor was

hoisted, and away we sped over the dark, swampy waters of Pamlico

Sound. Roanoke Island lay to our right, and ever and anon we caught

glimpses of the low, swampy lands of Hyde and Plymouth counties. To

the left or south we beheld a continuation of islands, and shortly

after the main land of Cartaret county became visible. It seemed

almost wholly unsettled, the wilderness appearance being only here

and there relieved by the small clearing of a turpentine plantation,

fishing establishment, or the twenty-acre field of a "poor white."

We soon made Neuse river--a noble stream, upon the banks of which

turpentine, pitch, rosin and tar enough might be made to supply

the markets of the North. As we ascended the river the signs of

habitation became more numerous although seeming "few and far

between" to the eye accustomed to the more frequent settlements

on Northern rivers, and the sombre hues of the pine, cedar and

cypress forests were occasionally enlivened by the brighter foliage

of persimmon, walnut and fig trees, the last flourishing here in

great luxuriance, bearing two or rather a continuation of crops

of delicious fruit in a season, and may be seen on every farm or

plantation in patches of from a few trees to orchards of twenty-five

acres in extent. We could also trace the courses of the many

"branches" or creeks from the lighter foliage of the gum and other

water-loving trees.

In the afternoon we passed Slocum's Creek, where Burnside landed

his troops the evening before the battle of Newbern, and soon the

spires of this city, and the shipping, hove in sight; and towards the

close of the day, after a sail of ten hours, during which time we

steamed eighty or ninety miles, we drew up at the pier and prepared

to disembark, thankful that we could again set foot on land and leave

forever the accursed "Haze" and her brutal captain and crew.

"Mind, I tell you," said one of the latter, "bad as you think the

old 'Haze' is, you will before long be glad to be on board of her

again--if you'd be _let_!"

He was laughed at; but I doubt not many of them, ere six months

elapsed, wished themselves anywhere else than where they were. Still

they could not see it then, but felt happy, like young bears, with

all their troubles before them.

The dilapidated and seedy condition of the wharves, and the ruins

of houses, mills and turpentine factories, impressed me with a

premonition of what I should yet witness of the ravages of war in

this fair land.

The city of Newbern bears the appearance of some age, is regularly

laid out, the streets intersecting each other at right angles, and

well protected from the merciless heat of summer by fine old elm

trees, intermixed here and there with the chaney and other trees the

names of which I do not recollect. The city is located at a point of

land formed by the junction of the Trent river with the Neuse, and

has altogether an imposing appearance viewed from the approach by

water.

The Mass. 23d Reg't, Col. Kurtz, (who was provost marshal,) was then

doing provost duty in the city.

When the order for landing was given, each scrambled ashore with the

whole of his household furniture upon his back. After passing through

a part of the city, we struck the railroad bridge, (destroyed by

the rebels after their defeat, but rebuilt by our forces,) crossing

which, and marching a mile or two, halted at the encampment of the

17th on the Trent river, where we were welcomed by the men of the

various companies, many of whom found friends and acquaintances among

the 'raw recruits.' My comrade had friends in the Malden Company (K),

of which we were henceforth to form a part, and we received a hearty

welcome from the members of mess 5, some of the good-natured ones of

which taxed themselves to the amount of nearly a dollar to procure

from the sutler something more palatable for our first meal than

'hard tack and salt horse.'

After 'taps' the lights were put out, and we disposed ourselves upon

the tent-floor to sleep, in the manner of spokes of a cart-wheel,

our feet toward the hub, which consisted of the gun-rack around

the tent-pole, there to revolve in the circle of dreams of home and

friends far distant. Before closing our eyes, however, and while

inquiries were plied and answered thick and fast, one of the mess

startled the newcomers by exclaiming--

"A rat! A rat! I have him!"

"Pass him around!" was the general cry.

"Now I've got him!" another exclaimed. This was followed by a

gurgling noise, as in the first instance.

The 'rat' came nearer, and presently I smelt him. There was no

mistaking that 'rat,'--he came from Jersey and was surnamed

'lightning,' and cost the fourth part of a soldier's pay for one

month. Being eagerly pressed to taste him, I did _taste_, but that

was all--the smell was enough, and I passed him over to the next man.

Sleep at length overcome me, and I dreamed of rats made of glass,

squealing "Jersey lightning! Jersey lightning!" until morning, when

I awoke to find myself surrounded by comrades busy eating breakfast.

Beside me stood a dipper of smoking hot coffee, some hard bread and

salt beef, provided by one of the most thoughtful of my new friends.

After guard-mounting (9 A.M.) the recruits were drawn up in line,

assigned to the various companies, examined by the surgeon, and,

after a few words of encouragement or advice from their captains

(and mayhap a glass of whisky), returned to their quarters, feeling

relieved, no doubt, that the affair was over.

Thus, in the course of about an hour, the recruits were disposed of,

and duly incorporated with the regiment--to share in its messes and

marches, its skirmishes and scratches, its picket duty and plunder,

its whisky and quinine, its tents and hospitals, its hard tack and

salt horse, its pea soup and pea coffee, its baked beans without

brown bread, its pride and its perils, its glory and its graveyards.

The following is a list of the principal staff and line officers of

the 17th, the companies and where they were raised, together with an

account--taken from a diary or journal of Mr. Wm. Noble, of Saugus,

(the first color sergeant)--of the doings of the regiment from its

inception down to the 5th of January, 1862:

_Colonel_--THOMAS I. C. AMORY.

[Mr. Amory was born in Boston, Nov. 27, 1828; entered West Point in

1846, and graduated in 1851, when he was appointed 2d lieutenant in

the 7th Infantry, ordered to Fort Smith in Arkansas, and was promoted

1st lieutenant in 1855. In 1858 he was ordered to Utah, under the

command of the late Gen. Albert Sidney Johnson, who joined the rebels

at the outbreak of the Southern rebellion and was killed at Shiloh;

was ordered to Boston on recruiting service in 1860, and was promoted

to a captaincy May 7, 1861. When the war broke out, he obtained leave

of absence from the War Department, and accepted a commission from

Gov. Andrew as Colonel of the 17th Mass. Vols., on Sept. 7th, 1861.

Since the regiment has been in the Department of North Carolina,

he has acted as General of Brigade; but whether his nomination for

the brigadiership has been confirmed or not, I am unable to say. Of

this I am certain, however, that there are few officers at this time

serving in our armies better capable of wearing the star or more

fully deserving of it than Thomas I. C. Amory.]

_Lieut. Colonel_--JOHN F. FELLOWS.

[Mr. Fellows, of Chelsea, is well known in Boston, having been for

many years connected with its daily press. He was also an active

member of the State Militia. When the war broke out he offered his

services to Gov. Andrew, from whom he received a commission as Lieut.

Colonel of the 17th Reg't on the 21st of August, 1861. He has proved

himself a capable officer and a thoroughly brave man. I shall have

frequent occasion to speak of him hereafter.]

_Major_--JONES FRANKLE. (Now, LUTHER DAY.)

[Mr. Frankle is a Prussian by birth, and served in the war of 1848

in Germany, at which time he did not "fight mit Sigel," but against

him. He received his commission as Major of the 17th on the 1st of

August, 1861; and proved himself a capable and efficient officer. In

June, 1863, he resigned his commission in the 17th for the purpose of

raising an artillery regiment (the 2d Mass. Heavy Artillery) which

he now commands, and which is doing duty in the field and in forts

in the various parts of North Carolina held by our forces. He was

succeeded by senior captain (Co. F) Luther Day, of Haverhill, a very

good officer.]

_Adjutant_--B. N. MANN. (Now, H. A. CHEEVER.)

[Mr. Mann was, I believe, for many years connected with the Boston

Post Office. He is a brave man, and generous as he is brave. He was

succeeded by Mr. Cheever in the Fall of '62.]

_Quartermaster_--Capt. HARRIS was commissioned Quartermaster of the

17th; but resigned in the Fall of '61, and was succeeded by Lieut,

(afterwards Capt.) THOMPSON, who died at Newbern in October, '62.

Lieut. DEXTER succeeded, and is the present incumbent.

_Surgeon_--ISAAC F. GALLOUPE.

[Dr. Galloupe is a hard-working, skillful, efficient and humane man,

and discharges his duty in a manner that commands the respect and

gratitude of every man who comes under his treatment. The Dr. is from

Lynn.]

_Assistant Surgeon_--WM. H. W. HINDS, of Boston.

[The men have no exalted opinion of this Dr.'s kindness or capacity,

though he seems attentive and a hard worker. Perhaps his unpopularity

arises from the fact that he unmercifully doses all whom he considers

'bummers' (i. e., those who are too lazy to do duty and 'play sick'

to escape its performance) with salts, jalap, blue pills, and

especially quinine; but I think he often punishes in this manner the

deserving as well as the guilty.]

Co. _A_--Capt. Henry Splaine, of Haverhill--was raised principally in

Newburyport.

Co. _B_--Capt Enoch F. Tompkins, of Haverhill (vice Capt. S. C.

Bancroft, S. Danvers, resigned)--South Danvers.

Co. _C_--Capt. Nehemiah P. Fuller--Danvers.

Co. _D_--Capt. Ivory N. Richardson, of Malden (Capt. Levi Thompson,

of Cambridge, deceased)--Salisbury and Amesbury.

Co. _E_--Capt. Michael McNamara, of Haverhill--Stoneham and Haverhill.

Co. _F_--Capt. Day (now Major)--Haverhill.

Co. _G_--Capt. G. W. Kenney, of Danvers--Rockport and Salem.

Co. _H_--Capt. J. K. Lloyd--Boston and Fall River.

Co. _I_--Capt. Wm. W. Smith, of Danvers (vice Capt. Thos.

Weir)--Lawrence.

Co. _K_--Capt. Joseph R. Simonds, of Melrose--Malden, Medford and

Saugus.

* * * * *

"Recruiting for this regiment commenced as early as the fall of

Fort Sumter, but owing to the embarrassed condition of the State,

the hesitation of the General Government in regard to accepting

troops, and the want of authority on the part of the Governor to

act, this regiment was obliged to wait from week to week without any

decisive answer as to the intention of the Government, concerning

its organization. The companies were formed on the militia basis,

and were desirous of a regimental organization, and to be mustered

into the service, but every effort which the company officers made in

that direction, seemed to be counteracted by the dominant political

and monied influence which was brought to bear in favor of other

regimental organizations, to the disparagement and detriment of the

companies comprising the 17th. While others were splendidly provided

for by private munificence, and hurried off to the seat of war,

this regiment was unprovided by the State with an organization,

clothing, arms, equipments or rations. An opinion prevailed at one

time, that all idea of a regimental organization must be given up,

and the companies enter the United States service, through some other

State organization. Captains Fuller of Danvers, and Day of Haverhill,

determined on bringing the matter to a focus.

"They visited the Governor, and after several ineffectual efforts to

get an audience, at length succeeded, and informed His Excellency

that they were going into the army, and should take their commands

with them; that they wanted to go in a Massachusetts Regiment, and

unless accepted by the State, should go into the Mozart Regiment

of New York, as one or two other companies from Massachusetts had

already done. Orders were given them by the Governor to go into

the camp at Lynnfield. The other companies of which this regiment

is composed, were ordered to the same place, and all arrived there

between the 10th and 12th of July. They were mustered into the United

States service on the 22d, remained in camp until the 23d of August,

when they were ordered to Baltimore, and arrived in that city on

the 25th, at 4 o'clock P.M. The principal duty of the regiment thus

far, had been of a police character, and it was moved about either

as a whole or a part, from one portion of the city to another, as

circumstances required.

"Nov. 15, Co.'s F, K, E, G, H, and C, with Captain Nims' Battery,

were detailed to form a part of the brigade under command of

General Lockwood, for an expedition into the counties of Accomac

and Northampton, Va., for the purpose of breaking up a rebel force

concentrating there. The expedition went on board a steam transport,

and on the 17th arrived at Newtown. Here they pitched their tents for

the night, and the next day marched a distance of sixteen miles into

the country. The rebels had felled trees across the roads in many

places to obstruct the advance of the troops, but they were cleared

away with but little delay. One deserted rebel battery, pierced for

four guns, was found on this day's march.

"On the 19th, the regiment reached Oak Hall, and on the 20th the men

went out fowling, and were very successful, taking a large amount

of game, which was dressed and partaken of by the men with double

relish, as they were on short rations of hard bread and salt junk,

and were much exhausted by the fatigues of their march. On the 21st

marched to Drummondtown, a distance of twenty-seven miles, performing

the journey in eight hours, notwithstanding the many obstructions

thrown across the road by the rebels, and the burned bridges which

required them to march round, following the bend of the streams. On

this march, between Oak Hall and Drummondtown, another rebel battery

was discovered, pierced for fourteen guns. The stars and stripes were

at once raised over it, and three rousing cheers given.

"November 23, took from the rebels seven guns, 150 small arms, one

barrel of powder, besides some swords, shot and shell. At the jail

were stored 8,000 rounds of cartridges and 200 small arms, which

were also taken. Two gun-carriages and one brass howitzer were also

found secreted in the woods, and captured. On the 26th, marched to

Pongoteague, a distance of twelve miles, and found another deserted

battery.

"November 27th, marched from Pongoteague to Franktown, a distance of

twelve miles; and on the 28th, marched to Eastville, thirteen miles,

taking on the way one brass cannon, seven horses, some small arms and

swords, besides several other articles contraband of war. The rebels

had an unfinished earthwork here which they deserted on the approach

of the Federal troops.

"A very large proportion of the arms and military stores captured

were returned by Gen. Lockwood to the parties claiming them,

creating great dissatisfaction among the troops, and rendering the

General liable to the suspicion that he sympathized with the rebels.

"The object of the expedition having been attained, the brigade was

broken up, and the Mass. 17th embarked at Cherrystone on the 1st and

2d of Dec., and sailed on the 4th for Baltimore, where they arrived

the same evening, and went into their old quarters. On the 18th they

commenced building barracks [on Stewart's Place] for winter quarters

and moved into them on the 5th of January." (These barracks are still

standing, and used as a general hospital.)

In February Co.'s F and H relieved the 6th Michigan at McKim's Place,

and K and G the 4th Wisconsin at Patterson's Park, those regt's being

destined to form part of Gen. Butler's force then about to sail for

New Orleans. On the 14th of March four other Co.'s of the 17th were

ordered to Fort Marshall, East Baltimore, to assist in defending that

fortification from an attack by rebel sympathizers, who, emboldened

by the destructive raid of the Merrimac in Hampton Roads, meditated a

rising in Baltimore, if not throughout the State.

When the 17th arrived in Baltimore they found the people of that city

nearly all 'secesh' in sentiment, and seeming only constrained from

rising by the presence in, and passage through, the city, of large

numbers of troops. It will then be readily inferred that the men of

this regiment had no very enviable task to perform in endeavoring

to keep the peace and making these disaffected people see the evil

of their ways. In doing this, however, they were not fools enough

to use moral suasion alone--that would be casting pearls before

swine--No; they used arguments that were far more convincing, such as

street drills, practicing at street firing, &c., all of which turned

the hate of the 'secesh' citizens into fear--and, finally, their

fear became a feeling of respect. What if the men were insulted

every time they walked the streets--the women (who were the most

outspoken) at length became weary of abusing them, and the men who

attempted to insult them never tried that game a second time; for

they found in the men of this regiment a spirit that would brook no

abuse--an indomitable, dare-devil disposition that met them half way

with a bowie knife as long and as keen as their own, and a pistol

as deadly. Thus they fought their way to respect, and this latter

feeling ripened into affection, which is shown by the fact that when

the regiment was about to sail for North Carolina, the ladies of

Baltimore presented it with a magnificent silk flag, upon which was

painted a fine portrait of Washington.

On the 27th of March, '62, the regiment embarked at Baltimore

for Newbern, North Carolina, which place they reached on the 1st

of April, and encamped on a field to the west of the city,--near

where Fort Totten now stands, and which was then in process of

construction. On the 7th of April the regiment was ordered out on

picket duty--the left wing to Jackson's place on the Trent road, and

the right wing to a place called the Red House on the Neuse road,

relieving the 24th and 27th Mass. regt's. The regiment remained

on picket until the 30th May, during which time they had frequent

skirmishes with the enemy, and made several raids and forays into the

enemy's country. Shortly after the regiment went to Jackson's place,

a few companies made a dash about nine miles up the Trent road to a

church, where they had a smart brush with the 'rebs,' two of whom

were killed and one wounded, and one taken prisoner. It was here

that one of those ludicrous incidents occurred which often serve to

relieve the dark outline of war's grim visage. When the enemy were

come up with, and firing became frequent, Lt. Col. Fellows ordered

the men to open right and left to let the artillery pass to the

front. One of the captains, mistaking the full purport of the order,

and thinking the ranks were to be opened to allow the rebels a fair

field and an open road to come into close quarters with his men, sang

out:

"Open right and left, and let the d--d scallywags through!"

Captain Weir, of Co. I, with his command, and as many volunteers as

wished to accompany them, made a raid to Pollockville to capture

cotton, and anything else that might prove of value to the "rebs" in

their belligerent character. Now, as this was not the first time Tom

Weir (as he was familiarly called) had invaded the sanctity of that

village, the rebs had a special eye to his movements, and lay in wait

for him.

He had a mule team loaded with cotton, corn and other plunder

preceding him on his return, which the rebs in ambush allowed to

pass; but just as the company got opposite to where they were

concealed, they poured in a volley which killed three and wounded

the same number--and put the men into such a panic that they fled.

The captain stood, and endeavored to rally them, but to no purpose,

and he had to follow and leave those who had fallen to their fate

(which was being stripped of arms, equipments, clothes, and whatever

valuables they had upon them), until rescued by the reinforcement

which came up promptly--to find the rebels flown. For this Captain

Weir was court-martialed, and dismissed the service--a sentence which

was universally condemned by the men, who considered him a brave

officer, having done all a man could do under the circumstances.

Captain Lloyd of Company H, next tried his hand in Pollocksville, but

lost three men by the upsetting of a boat in the Trent river on his

outward march. He, however, took some plunder and two prisoners.

The results of all these scouts and forays were the capture of

several thousand dollars' worth of cotton, corn, cattle, hens, &c.,

(there must have been _foul_ play somewhere).

The regiment returned to Newbern on the 30th of May, and on the 26th

of June were ordered to Swift Creek--upon approaching the bridge

leading across which they were fired upon by the rebels (without

sustaining any damage) who had a battery masked by a breastwork or

fort of shingles. The 17th charged across the bridge in fine style

(the bridge was a lightly built one, and swayed and shook under

the combined weight of 600 men in such a manner as to lead to the

belief that it would break down, but it didn't); but upon crossing

they found the enemy had flown. Three companies went up the road

in pursuit some distance, but the 'rebs' were nowhere to be found.

They halted near a dwelling house, when some of the men went into an

adjoining negro hut, where a pot of meat and cabbage was in process

of being cooked, which they proceeded to confiscate; but just as they

had commenced their feast an officer came up and drove them off,

saying:

"Dum thee, did thee coom here to ploonder."

At the same time, it was asserted, though I don't believe it, that

the officer who thus drove them from the feast had his pockets filled

with sweet potatoes and other "ploonder." Three prisoners were taken.

One of them a lad about 16 years old, was thus interrogated by the

Major:

"Vat for you be guerilla for?"

"I'm not a guerilla, sir; I'm in the regular Confederate service."

"Vat for you lay in ambush, den?"

"I didn't lay in any bush, sir; I was standing behind a tree."

"Ha! You be von rascally guerilla, and we vill shtring you up to a

tree, ven we arrive in Newbern!"

But it is needless to say this threat was not carried out.

The reg't here received orders to rejoin the division (the 9th army

corps) which was about to leave the Department with Gen. Burnside,

and started of a Sunday morning 28th (without breakfast) on their

return. The weather was intensely hot, and the sand on the road was

ankle deep. The case, however, was pressing, and the men were urged

to their utmost; but the task was too much for them,--and when the

reg't arrived at the landing about 4 P.M., after a march of 22 miles,

it numbered little more than a full company--the remaining 400 or 500

being distributed along the road for miles back. They, however, kept

coming in squads of from two to twenty during the remaining part of

the afternoon and evening--and a more tired and thoroughly used up

lot of men it would be difficult to find anywhere. To make matters

worse, when the reg't arrived at the landing opposite Newbern, they

found no transportation for them, and nothing wherewith to satisfy

the cravings of hunger. It was not until about 12 o'clock at night

that they received a ration of hard bread and salt meat; but no

vessels arrived to transport them across, and they were forced to lay

out upon the sandy beach, without shelter, in a pelting, pitiless

rain, which had set in early in the evening. Next morning a couple

of scows or flat-boats arrived, and they were taken across; but Gen.

Burnside pitying their forlorn and used up condition, and thinking

it would be an act of cruelty to put men in such a state on board

transports, ordered the 6th New Hampshire reg't to take their place.

Thus the Seventeenth were cheated by fate out of their share of the

glory of South Mountain, Antietam, Bull Run 2d, Fredericksburg,

Chancellorsville, and Knoxville; and were compelled to silently and

doggedly face and fight the most deadly of human foes in its own

malarial fens and swamps.

About the first of July the reg't was ordered to camp on the south

side of the Trent river near the county bridge, to do picket and

outpost duty, which consisted of sending a company to Bray's

Ferry and plantation about three miles out, and another to Evans'

Mills--seven miles down the railroad towards Beaufort.

About July 25th the regiment went in an expedition to Pollocksville,

and constructed a bridge across the Trent river for the entire column

to cross upon, after reaching which place, Col. Amory, who was in

command, decided to push on to Trenton; but upon approaching to

within four miles of the latter place he found the enemy too strong,

and withdrew without bringing on an engagement.

August 20th, six companies of the 17th went to Swift Creek, again,

accompanied by a section of the New York Marine Artillery and

four boat howitzers. Lt. Col. Fellows, who was in command of the

expedition, having missed the boat that conveyed the reg't and

artillery across the river, the command devolved upon the Major,

who marched them about a mile from the landing, and halted to await

the Colonel's coming. The column halted opposite a dwelling, and,

as is often the case under like circumstances, there was a rush for

the well to fill canteens. Two of the men, however, strayed into a

field and were making a flank movement upon a pile of tumble-down log

outbuildings, supposed to abound in hens, chickens, eggs, &c. One

of these men, a very tall and large specimen of humanity was named

Gilman; the other was a small man, and, for my purpose, nameless. The

vigilant Major detected this unauthorized flanking affair, and, being

determined to put a stop to all such unmilitary proceedings, sung out:

"Vat for you shtray off dat way? Come back, I say to you! Dou-bel

_twit_!" (quick)

The little man obeyed, and came back at a dog-trot. Gilman, however,

hastened back slowly--at much too slow a gait to suit his impatient

superior, who yelled out again:

"Dou-bel twit!--I say--dou-_bel_ TWIT!"

But no faster came Gilman on, and the Major (who was a little man)

rushed to him, and seizing him by the coat collar as he was crossing

a fence, dragged him over,--then, drawing his sword and flourishing

it about the head of the still doggedly defiant Gilman, exclaimed:

"You tink, because I am small, I'm be afraid of you? I will let you

know! Dou-bel twit! now, or I will make two Gilman of you!"

There was a man called Tom Croke in Co. E--an extremely hard

ticket--quarrelsome, venomous, and altogether thoroughly depraved.

He had been a source of trouble and annoyance to the officers of the

company ever since he came into it. On this expedition, I believe, he

shot the top of one of his fingers off--an accident, as he told the

captain (McNamara)--

"Devil d--n you," replied the latter, "it's a pity it wasn't your

head!"

Tom Croke, for this or some other misdemeanor, was subsequently

court-martialed and sent to Fort Macon to serve out his time, from

which place he escaped to the rebels. On his way from the Fort to

rebeldom he met a deserter coming into our lines, whom he directed

as to the best route to pursue, and who in turn gave him such

information as he desired to facilitate his escape.

When the expedition arrived at the bridge over Swift Creek it was

evening. Our cavalry, which had preceded them, were bivouacked for

the night on the other side, and our men at first took them to be

rebels, but were soon undeceived.

There was a store-house in the village of Swift Creek, containing a

variety of articles in the dry goods, grocery and merchandise line.

Some of the boys smelt the plunder, and proceeded to confiscate.

The wife of the owner of the store suspecting what was going on,

went to Col. Fellows and told him the men were breaking in, and he

immediately repaired to the scene of operations to put a stop to such

work. A member of Co. K, who had been left on the watch, gave warning

of the colonel's approach, and the raiders hid.

"What ho! there,--what does all this mean? What are you doing here?"

(To Co. K man.)

"I'm on guard, sir."

"All right, madam," said the colonel; "you see there is a guard on."

What plunder the boys obtained it would be bootless to relate.

The expedition returned to Newbern, burning the bridge after them.

The camp of the 17th was situated in what was formerly a cotton

field, on the banks of the river Trent, affording excellent

facilities for washing clothes and bathing, of which most of the men

availed themselves,--and at all hours of the day men could be seen

bathing in the river, or squatted along its margin washing clothes.

It seemed at first sight to one unacquainted with the peculiarities

of the climate, to be a well chosen and healthy location (and indeed

it was about the best in the vicinity); but the hanging mosses that

everywhere shrouded the few solitary cedars which still survived the

ravages of the pioneer's axe, showed the unmistakeable presence of

fever and ague--that pest of new and warm countries. About a couple

of hundred yards up the river, close to the county bridge, a fort

was in process of completion,--the work of 'contrabands,' numbers of

whom I observed busily employed in and around it. Beyond this were

encamped some light batteries; while still further on, and at the

crossing of a deep, sluggish stream called Brice's Creek, a number of

detailed men were at work constructing a block-house (a square-built

fort, made of hewn logs, compactly put together--and most

conveniently constructed to be knocked to pieces by a six-pounder

about a poor devil's ears). Between the artillery camp and the

block-house was a brick dwelling-house, once the property of Gov.

Speight, the late owner and family of which fled after the battle of

Newbern. This house was afterwards demolished to supply bricks for

chimneys of barracks built near by in the Fall. To the rear of this

house, about 75 yards distant, beautifully shaded by fine old trees,

was the tomb of Gen. Speight, a revolutionary hero, and one of the

early Governors of North Carolina.

The plain on which the 17th were encamped is about two and a half

miles long, and from one-half to two miles wide, and had, evidently,

before the rude hand of war obliterated their boundaries and

landmarks, consisted of two or three plantations. This plain was an

excellent place for drilling, and nearly all reviews were held there.

The whole field gave evidence of having, at different times and

in different parts, been camped upon by infantry, artillery, and

cavalry--and everywhere evidences of military occupation were visible

in the shape of broken bottles, dilapidated canteens, dippers and

plates, and remnants of worn-out shoes, coats, blouses, pants, and

harness, forgotten tent-stakes, sink holes and caved-in wells. While

overhead and around, unnoticed and unmolested, on lazy wing sailed

the huge turkey-buzzard, scenting the dead carcase and decayed

garbage from afar, and patiently biding the absence of man from its

vicinity ere he descended to gorge himself therewith.

I noticed a great variety of wild flowers in the fields, some of

which were very beautiful. A species of cactus grows wild here;

but is a very inferior kind. Wild garlic is also to be met with

everywhere. A coarse grass, called Bear's grass, grows in bunches

here, the leaves of which, when subjected to a roasting process in

hot ashes, are uncommonly strong, and take the place of small ropes

and cords with the natives, who apply it in a variety of ways, from

the suspension of a dead pig to the tying of a shoe, or temporarily

supplying the place of a lost button. From the centre of these

bunches of Bears grass a stem five or six feet high shoots up in the

spring-time, which is crowned with a crest of yellow flowers very

beautiful to behold at a distance.

A few days' experience of camp-life gave me a better knowledge of

its comforts and discomforts, its tribulations and my philosophy.

It was the middle of August, and the weather very warm. The first

night of my abode in my new quarters was undisturbed from any cause,

from the fact that I was tired after the sea-voyage. But the second

night I was destined to feel some of the annoyances to be endured

by campaigners in warm climates. Mosquitoes revel in this congenial

atmosphere, as do also the blue-tail fly, and a species of biting

insect like the common house-fly, while gallinippers, gnats, ants,

and biting sand-fleas, (which play second fiddle to the old-fashioned

iron-clad chaps, their bites making one squirm as if twinged by a

bad conscience,) and grey-backs, all attack the hapless sleeper

in succession, in a body, by detail, in squads, battalion,--in

brigades drawn up in echelon--in front, flank and rear. They scale

the walls of his fortress in the very teeth of a fierce cannonade of

imprecations--burst the barriers of bedclothes--penetrate the abatti

of woolen socks and tightly-tied drawers--and though, even after

gaining the inside of your works, they are subjected to a deadly

cross-fire of small arms, yet they invariably "attain the object of

their reconnoissance." The bayonet is powerless against them, and

they never draw off from the attack till fairly exhausted with the

feast of blood.

What surprised me most was the utter indifference manifested by

the veterans to the petty annoyance of vermin and insects, and the

matter-of-fact way in which they overhauled their clothing and

disposed of the grey-backs when found.

For about a week the recruits had "fine times," as the soldiers

thought, having nothing to do but "bum around," and sleep--when they

could, which was mostly in the day time. The days were excessively

hot, as were the nights until about 11 or 12 o'clock, when it became

uncomfortably cold.

During this week of leisure, I pretty thoroughly explored the region

in the vicinity of our camp, and visited Newbern on 'pass,' but

found nothing special there to note, if I may except the fact that

there were many really cozy and comfortable-looking dwellings, and

numerous flower and fruit gardens--some of which gave evidences of

former tasteful ownership, but which seemed of late to have come in

for their share of the general neglect and destruction. Those of the

inhabitants who still clung to their homes seemed to wear a sullen

and discontented look, with some exceptions, and these were of the

mercantile class, who, with the sutlers and others who follow the

wake of armies, seemed to fall in for their fair proportion of the

trade.

About the greatest curiosity to me was what was called the new

cemetery, in the upper section or suburb of the city,--the wall

enclosing which is built of shell-rock--a curious fossil concrete

obtained in some part of the State--where I do not know. There are

many graves, and a few tasteful tombstones. Beyond this in what has

become an open field or common, are several soldiers' graveyards

consecrated by the poor fellows whose bodies repose there, who for

love of fatherland, left home and kindred to return no more.

My first duty on picket was at Mr. Bray's plantation. "Old Bray"

the boys called him, and being on the outpost which was near his

house, I determined to give the old gentleman a call. I found Mr.

and Mrs. Bray at home, the former seated on the piazza reading a

newspaper, and the latter squatted on the doorstep doing 'nothing

in particular.' They were a lean pair, (but their _leaniny_ was not

on our side, as I afterwards found), and had a family of five or

six lean boys and girls. They certainly looked an unromantic enough

realization of our ideal Southern planter and his family. Mr. Bray

was apparently about 45 years of age, and his wife perhaps as old,

although she seemed much older. They both looked sour and cross

enough to dispense with the use of vinegar at meal-time. But they

did not seem indisposed to have a chat with the Yankee 'hirelings,'

and soon I was made acquainted with all their griefs--the husband

commencing the relation of them, but the wife invariably winding up.

I then for the first time learnt how this benevolent planter and his

amiable wife had been abused--how, first of all, notwithstanding a

'protection' from Gen. Burnside, their 'niggers' had been enticed

away, all efforts to get them back proving fruitless, owing to the

"abolition officers and soldiers."

"Niggers and pigs were the only things that ever paid any ways well,"

put in Mrs. Bray.

They had only five pigs and three 'niggers' left now, and did not

know how soon they'd go off with the rest.

Some of the soldiers who had been on picket near their plantation had

behaved very bad, and had stolen and destroyed much of their corn and

all their water melons (melancholy to relate); and Co. K of the 17th,

was the worst of the lot--and the lady wound up with the expression

of a hope "that the new recruits would be more of gentlemen than the

old soldiers, and not seek to injure her as they had done."

Mr. Bray then showed me his melon patch which, though evincing some

traces of the recent vandal act, still bore a goodly number, which

I made a note of. He also showed me a patch of cotton, in full

bloom,--and after another hour of desultory conversation, I left with

the impression that old Bray was a 'great man on a small scale,' but

his wife was the greater of the two.

About September 1st a storm came on, accompanied by rain, which

lasted that and the following day and night, giving us and our traps

a thorough soaking. During all this time I did not sleep a wink. The

third morning, wet, sleepless and weary, I was detailed for guard,

and was put on the third relief (from 1 to 3 P.M., and 1 to 3 A.M.),

and during the first two hours of my guard was refreshed by a 'jolly'

shower of rain, which came in at my coat collar and soon filled and

overflowed my boots.

When the third relief turned in for the night, I lay down with the

rest, on the wet ground, and attempted to sleep; but it was no

go--so, lighting my pipe (sole comforter at times), I left the tent,

and sat under a tree near by, and smoked the hours away (rain or

no rain) until the third relief fell in, when taking my musket and

falling in to my place, I was soon on my post, which extended from

a tree (blown over by the wind) to the river bank, about 85 paces

distant. I felt drowsy, but paced my beat rapidly to keep awake,

until tired out, I leaned against the inclined trunk of the fallen

tree to rest awhile. My brain was in a whirl, and everything about

me seemed to reel and oscillate unsteadily. It was moonlight, but

cloudy. More than once I thought I detected myself napping, and shook

myself, and pinched my nose and ears to keep awake. My comrade,

whose beat joined mine, came up occasionally, and we exchanged a few

words. I exhorted him if he caught me napping to rouse me. He had

left me, and was near the other end of his beat, when, on looking

after him, I beheld, about ten paces from me, as plainly as if in

daylight, the form of a huge negro. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, a

linen coat blue or _dark_ striped, vest, white shirt (seemingly of

cotton,) open at the neck, around which was a colored handkerchief

tied sailor fashion, the ends hanging down loose. His pants seemed

of light fabric, checked. I could see his countenance plainly. It

seemed, if anything, smiling, though there was something peculiar

in its expression, as well as the attitude, for the figure seemed

leaning its weight on one foot, its left hand resting on the hip,

and the right arm hanging loosely by its side. The expression of the

darky was so peculiar--jaunty, saucy--and he looked full at me, that

for a moment I was taken by surprise,--and, during that moment made

the observations just recorded--but quickly recovering, I brought my

piece to 'charge,' and called out--

"Who comes there?"

[Illustration]

But no response was deigned by my darky visitor. I challenged again,

and again, with the same result, the object still retaining its

position, and regarding me with the same complacent look--when my

comrade, who heard my first challenge came up, and inquired what

the matter was, just as I was about bringing my piece to 'present'

to fire. I pointed to the object of my challenging, who still kept

his ground in the same position. He laughed at what he supposed was

a joke I was trying to come on him--not being able to see anything

in the spot I pointed out,--and resumed his beat. The thought then

occurred to me for the first time that what I saw was not real. What

then was it? I asked myself. Surely I am not troubled with that

disease known as 'nigger on the brain!' And I again leaned against

the trunk of the fallen tree to think the subject over, all the while

keeping my eyes fixed upon the object of my thoughts, which stood the

scrutiny unmoved. Now, I am not superstition by nature, and still

less so by education and experience,--and so I viewed the apparition

without a particle of fear or awe, and tried to account to myself for

its appearance in the most natural and rational manner. I came to

the conclusion there and then, that want of rest and the stimulation

of the coffee and tobacco I had been indulging in unduly excited my

brain, which produced the hallucination, on the same principle that

it is produced in certain stages of drunkenness, called delirium

tremens. This was a very fair deduction; but still in front of me

stood the grinning darky, as plainly as before. I thought then I

would test the unreality of the apparition in another way. If it were

an optical illusion, the figure must recede as I advanced, or follow

as I retreated. I accordingly advanced towards it; but, strange to

say, it remained in the same spot, until I was within arm's length,

when stretching forth my hand I grasped--nothing. I walked over the

exact spot where the figure stood, and returned to my old stand, to

be still more puzzled to see the figure in the same spot, with the

same expression on its countenance, but with _both_ arms hanging

down by its side this time. More puzzled still, I retreated to see

if it would follow; but no--there it stood still gazing after me.

I took three or four turns up and down my beat, and on each return

to the fallen tree beheld the figure in the same position as last

seen. I then halted, determined to watch if other changes would

manifest themselves in shadowy being before me. My comrade came

towards me again, and I reiterated my former tale of the apparition.

Still he couldn't see it. But, as I was yet talking of it, and still

persisting I saw it, the phantom darky disappeared--not suddenly, but

seeming to melt away gradually.

"He vanished in the darkness, like a beam

Of cold, gray moonlight in a wintry stream."

This is the first and only ghost I have ever had the pleasure of

seeing, or, more properly speaking, fancying I saw. What caused its

appearance I neither know nor care, and only relate the fact (or

fancy) because I think it singular.

On a Sunday morning, about 10 o'clock, we started for Evans' Mills,

to relieve Co. E, which had overstayed their time one week--doubtless

from the fact that a large orchard of apple trees was upon the

plantation, the fruit of which was a luxury they were loth to

leave--small blame to them.

After a march of about two hours, we came out upon a clearing just

beyond a continuation of the rebel line of defences to the right of

the Beaufort railroad. Here we saw deserted houses, and a cotton gin;

but no living creature of the human or brute creation, and the place

looked solitary and deserted enough--its own sad elegy of war written

plainly in the solitude which brooded over the absence of those who

once gave animation to the scene, and made 'the wilderness blossom

like the rose' with fields of cotton and gardens of bright flowers.

About a mile further on, after passing through a narrow belt of

woods, we came out upon Evans' plantation. On our right was a field

of some eighty acres, about half of which was covered with a young

growth of apple trees. On the left was a field of about twenty acres,

at the further end of which was the plantation house, with its negro

huts, surrounded with the inevitable grove of elegant shade trees.

Just opposite the front gate of the mansion, the road turned sharp

to the right, and on looking ahead, we beheld a block-house, nearly

completed, in the rear of which was the encampment, and our future

abode. Upon reaching the block-house, the road took a turn to the

left, down a short, steep hill, skirting the bank of a stream, which

it crossed on a rude plank bridge, still turning toward the left.

After crossing the bridge, a grist mill lay on the right, and about

60 yards on the left, on the dam of a magnificent pond of water stood

a large saw mill, which ran two sets of saws when in operation. It

was then idle, the dam having broke away. The road, after crossing

the flume of the grist mill led on to the negro village--quite a

collection of comfortable houses--built on each side of the cross

road, which led to Pollocksville. Just before coming on to the

Pollocksville road, in a field to the right was a large cotton gin

and press. At the intersection of these roads was our outpost in the

day time, the guard being drawn in to the mills at night.

The army wagons which accompanied, (with tents, cooking utensils,

quartermasters' stores, company baggage, &c.,) arriving a few minutes

after, the men soon had plenty to do in erecting tents, and fixing

themselves as comfortably as circumstances would permit. There was a

little board shanty with two bunks, lately occupied by the drummers

of Co. E. To this my comrade and I 'froze'; and, having got our traps

snugly bestowed--our guns and equipments slung up, and our blankets

spread--we sallied forth in quest of plunder.

Our first raid was upon the orchard near by; but it had been picked

bare. We, however, subjected every tree to a searching examination,

and as the reward of our toil returned with about half a bushel

of a apples. On our way back we passed through a small field of

sweet potatoes, to which we returned with a sack, and soon were in

possession of a bushel of very fine ones.

During our absence, foraging, the tents had all been put up, and the

men were busy arranging their traps. Charley (our French cook) had

not been idle meantime, and had a blazing fire, and coffee ready.

Procuring from him a pot, we soon had the satisfaction of seeing some

of the sweet potatoes, the fruits of our late raid, smiling upon

us, and welcoming us to the feast. Giving the cook a couple of good

ones for his accommodation, we retired to our cabin with our coffee,

sweet potatoes and 'salt horse,' and made one of the most hearty and

satisfactory meals I have ever known. Appetite was our best sauce,

exercise had sharpened it, and the new and palatable food agreed

so well with the disposition of the stomach, that it had ample

satisfaction in embracing its best friend.

After eating, with pipe lit, I started forth to take a view of the

mansion house, and its surroundings. On entering the front gate,

I was struck with the size and beauty of an immense beech tree,

whose wide extending branches covered a circle of over 100 feet in

diameter--and, Yankee fashion, I immediately computed that if cut

down it would make over five cords of firewood. It must have proved a

cool and inviting shade for the planter and his family in the summer

time. Approaching its huge trunk, I observed that the Yankee jacknife

had been at work and covered it with the representative names of

men from nearly every United States regiment that had ever been in

the department. Besides the huge beech there were numerous other

trees--elm, cedar, chaney--and the beautiful flowering althea.

The house was an ordinary two story one, containing about 7 rooms,

set on brick blocks about three feet from the ground, and serving as

a cool place of resort for the pigs, fowl, and youthful, curly-headed

negroes, during the heat of the day. This, together with the

plantation attached of some 10,000 acres, seven or eight hundred of

which were cleared, together with the mills, and about 120 'head of

darkies' (all of which excepting two old negroes and their wives,

had been 'run up country'), belonged to a Mr. Evans, a son-in-law of

Ex-Gov. Morehead, (after whom Morehead city had been named).

Evans was, as I afterwards found, a very influential man in that

part of the country, and had early become a convert to the doctrine

of secession. He raised a company of cavalry, and equipped them at

his own expense. He took part in the battle of Newbern, and it must

have been a bitter trial for him to leave so fine a property, though

I believe he had another plantation in the upper part of the State.

The regiment to which his company was attached, remained for some

time in the State, and had more than one encounter with our cavalry.

They were, however, finally ordered to join the army of Virginia, and

were, no doubt, engaged in all its conflicts with our army. At the

battle of Gettysburg, Evans, who had become a colonel, was wounded,

taken prisoner, and died shortly after in hospital at Baltimore.

Such has been the fate of an infatuated man, who, like thousands

of others, left a prosperous and comfortable home to plunge in the

suicidal fray against the Government under which he was reared and

had prospered. He may have repented his folly when too late; but I

doubt it. Such men are as little given to repentance as they are to

truth, justice and reason.

At the back of the mansion house were two negro huts, where those

who were domestics lodged. The body of the negroes were lodged in

the village before mentioned about a mile away. Doubtless there was

design in this--as the master of bondmen must have lived as insecure

amongst his slaves as the tyrant in the midst of his vassals.

Adjoining the negro-huts attached to the mansion were the various

outhouses and stables, behind which the land sloped to waters of the

tortuous stream which emptied into the mill-pond further down.

To my view Evans' Mills at first appeared a lonely place; but a

further acquaintance with it materially altered my opinion. Were it

not that the restraints which discipline imposes upon the soldier,

living in this place would be quite agreeable. There was no lack of

game of all kinds, from the red deer, the nocturnally rambling coon

and possum, to the partridge, wild pigeons, grouse, waterfowl, and

fish. The latter were the only legitimate sport for the soldiers

(and many a finny inhabitant of those sluggish streams--though shy

at times--graced his tin platter), as the necessities of war forbid

the use of fire-arms upon any other game than men (butternuts--and

some of them mighty hard nuts at that). Occasionally, however, the

negroes, and such of the white inhabitants as were left behind 'when

the rush of war was past,' with their coon dogs, and well provided

with pine knots to guide them, would sally forth of a night and

traverse the banks of the numerous streams and branches, and rarely

would they proceed far until the peculiar bay of the dogs denoted

that they had lit upon the track of a wary possum or coon, in the

direction of which the hunters would hasten, to find the 'critter

treed,' and if the tree was too large to cut down, one climbed, and

with a club killed or dislodged him. A coon hunt has rarely been

unsuccessful, from the great number of the 'animals' abounding, and

the excellent training of the dogs, which seem to take after this

kind of game as naturally as a cat takes after mice.

The streams are generally belted with fine groves of cedar, gum,

black walnut, locust, and ash trees, intermixed, the whole bearing

their proportion of parasites, some of which entwine themselves so

closely round the trees they select to climb on as almost to become

incorporated with them in the process of time, and look like huge

serpents endeavoring to crush out their life but they look beautiful

in the summer time, covered with leaves and fruit (for they are not

all poisonous or profitless), and many a bunch of rich, purple grapes

has the writer purloined from the midst of those masses of tangled

creepers. This intermingling of hardwood trees with the evergreen

pines had a pleasing effect upon me, as it recalled the remembrance

of the northern forests where the pine, hemlock and spruce were often

in the minority.

Occasionally, however, the explorer of these Southern woods, would

suddenly come upon a cypress swamp, and he would there behold the

incarnation of all that is dismal in a landscape,--especially if,

as when I first beheld one, the time was just before twilight, and

the slanting rays of the sun had ceased to penetrate the masses of

the forest foliage. A picture, however finely wrought, would fail

to give an idea of the utter gloom and funereal solemnity of such a

scene; and if any lover or hater of humanity should wish to seek a

solitude where, unmolested, he could mourn over the wickedness and

folly of mankind, and make himself thoroughly miserable, I would

advise him to select a spot in full view of a cypress swamp,--and

if he will not suffer enough, do enough penance, and weep enough to

wash out and atone for the world's sins--his own included,--in the

space of the twelve months, then it will not be the fault of the

swamp, I can vouch. I do not wonder that the ancients, even aside

from their superstitions, selected the cypress as an emblem of

death and mourning--for no one can behold that tree in its native

solitude and state without thinking of all the friends he had lost,

and would be likely to lose for the next hundred years.--Picture to

yourself, gentle reader, the bed of a sluggish stream, enriched by

the accumulations of vegetable mould for unknown ages, until the

water forced itself through a deep, narrow channel, winding hither

and thither; that at a former indefinite period, the seeds deposited

on this mould germinated, and there arose from its slimy depths,

like ghosts that had 'burst their cerements,' the mighty cypress

trees; that they continued to grow slowly upward, but toward the

base the trunks swelled to undue proportions like the paunches of

gluttons--and undoubtedly the cypress is the glutton among trees,

as its huge cone-shaped roots are well adapted to the ravenous

absorption of air, and the rich liquified food that is forever in

process of formation around and above them. And thus they tower up in

the midst of their slimy abode, huge, bilious and bloated, and look

like a grim array of fallen spirits, which, having attempted to cross

into daylight, got stuck in the mud of their mythical Styx.

Such is a cypress swamp.

In nationality the men of Co. K comprised Americans, Canadians,

Provincials, English, Irish, Scotch, French and Germans. In

disposition and character, they were nearly as diverse as their

nationality; but taken as specimens of the countries they

represented, were about as intelligent and respectable a body of men

as could well be expected from such material.

The Captain, Joseph R. Simonds, (for many years a bookbinder in

Spring Lane, Boston,) was a thoroughly patriotic and honest man, a

good soldier, with many virtues, and a few faults and foibles (and

what man has not these to a greater or less extent.) He took great

pride in the well-being and efficiency of his company; and its good

name, and the praise of his superiors for cleanliness, superiority in

drill, or having a small sick-list, were to him matters of just pride

and gratulation,--and frequently, after a creditable performance

on drill or parade, he would snap his fingers with delight, and,

after dismissal, invite them all to his quarters for a treat. He

was careful about the quality of their food, and whenever he could

(which was not often) would procure such articles of luxury and

dietic change as would be most likely to promote health. He was

uniformly kind, obliging and considerate, and did not look upon his

men as mere pieces of mechanism that moved when he pulled the wires.

He considered them _men_,--socially his equals, though in reality

under his command, and, to a certain extent at his mercy. He rarely

abused his authority--never maliciously; and though he occasionally

did injustice to some deserving men--it was, I think, more from

an error of judgment than through design. Yet he was popular and

unpopular with the men. Soldiers like sailors will grumble, and it is

a privilege they often abuse; but, the fit over, they all invariably

acknowledged his worth, and disposition to treat them well.

The first Lieut (J. A. Greeley) was of a quiet disposition, a strict

(but not over strict) disciplinarian, and a man of considerable

genius in engineering (he subsequently had the planning and

superintendence of several fortifications near Newbern). He was a

strict temperance man, and wished the men to practice this virtue

also. He has since been detached from the regiment, and commissioned

captain in the 2d regiment of Heavy Artillery.

But I cannot enumerate the names of all the company,--and will

content myself with mentioning a few of the 'characters'--and the

first that occurs to my mind is "old Jesse Hitchings" (forgive me,

Jesse, for putting your name in print; but you need be no more

ashamed of it than you were of your old cap riddled by the enemy's

bullets). Jesse was a character--a tall, thin old bachelor of over

fifty--of a pleasant, benevolent disposition, a good soldier, an

uncompromising patriot (no com_promises_ with the rebels, was his

motto)--and a successful hand at poker. It is related of Jesse, that

when the company was doing picket duty at the Deep Gully, he lit a

fire one night at the outpost, and when his time came to mount guard,

leisurely walked up and down in front of the fire, giving the enemy's

pickets a fair chance, if so disposed, to pick him off--and upon

being warned of his danger, coolly replied--

"Well, if I'm to be shot I'll be shot, I suppose--what's the odds."

In camp, on guard, in the bivouac of the battle-field, wherever there

was a fire, Jesse could be seen at any hour of the night bending

over the same, his chin resting between his knees, warming his long

skinny hands--sometimes asleep; but mostly half awake or dozing. Poor

Jesse--he is one of the few sterling men who act well their part

without ostentation, and are rarely noticed for their real worth.

Another character was "Billy Patterson" (he was called "Billy,"

though his name was James). He was a hard-working, rough-spoken

fellow (his general salutation being "G' along till haal wi' ye!")

Billy, though a good soldier, and brave in action, did not like guard

or picket duty--and, being an excellent cook, generally contrived by

a species of finesse--not always of an unexceptionable character--to

work himself into a good berth, with pots for his jolly companions.

Charley (our French cook) shortly after going to Evans' Mills fell

sick, and Billy took his place--which he held afterwards for a long

time, and flourished and bullied when sober, and when drunk abused

every one--and gave the mess very good dinners.

Sam Kenny was another whom I considered a character. He was nicknamed

'Dickens,' being a great admirer of that author. 'Dickens' was an

intelligent man, but fond of whiskey; and whenever he imbibed too

much was sure to get in to some scrape or other, which generally

ended in depositing him in the guardhouse. It is related of him, that

being one night in Newbern, on a 'bender,' he applied for admission

into a house (where he was acquainted), but the lady noticing his

condition, refused; when, after repeated failures to get in, becoming

convinced of the uselessness of any further trial, and by way of

revenge, he put his mouth to the keyhole, and shouted--

"I say, madam, do you chew snuff?"

Now be it known that snuff chewing is quite a common practice among

the women in and around Newbern, and for aught I know is a regular

Southern institution; but those of any pretension to refinement

never use it, or if they do, it is on the sly--and a greater insult

could not be offered a woman than to ask her if she chewed snuff.

'Dickens,' no doubt, had his revenge.

A young fellow, named J. E. Mills, had a mania for cutting his

autograph upon trees, walls, fences, and objects in every place he

visited. It is related that during a freshet, when a lot of logs in

the river above the dam broke loose, every one of them contained one

or more inscriptions of "J. E. M.," cut in with an axe or knife.

William Stack 'was a soldier every inch of him.' He had been in

the British service over ten years, and served in India. His

peculiarities were numerous; but were redeemed by a strict integrity,

a love of duty and a thorough knowledge of his business. I often

wondered why men, his inferiors in many of the most essential

qualifications of a soldier, were promoted over him, while he

remained a private. He entertained a great veneration for the British

army--and thought the British soldier not only superior, but better

paid, better clothed, and better cared for than the American soldier.

He had a good memory, a rich fund of anecdote, and many a weary hour

has he beguiled by the relation of scenes and adventures in 'the land

of the palm and the poppy.'

John Smith was another who had served in the British army. He was a

good soldier, an unpretending man, and the pertinacity with which he

defended the government, (there are two parties in the army as well

as here), his strong anti-slavery sentiments when nearly all were

down on the poor negro, and the confidence he felt in the ultimate

success of our cause, even in the darkest hours when the general

opinion prevailed that we could never whip the South, might well put

to shame many of his American comrades, who often seemed to lose

in their desire for peace, the consciousness that it was theirs to

dictate the terms to a beaten foe. The poor fellow has been taken

prisoner--and is now in Dixie.

Smith had a brother who was nicknamed 'Ben-Doza.' 'Ben' was

discharged in March, 1863, and I gave him a curious stick which I cut

in one of the swamps to bring home for me. If this should meet his

eye, I wish he would hasten to 'fork it over.'

But lest I should become tedious and uninteresting, I will drop

the biographical and take up the chronological thread of my yarn,

noticing the different individuals as they may be brought by

circumstances into future scenes. It is true that in speaking of

the mere rank and file of the army, I do not write of men known to

fame. There is, indeed, little of romance connected with the private

soldier--that peculiar species of flummery (which makes the heart of

the dreamy damsel of sixteen flutter so) being, as it were by right

divine, the speciality of the ideal mustached, lightning-eyed, and so

forth young men of the shoulder straps. Those I write of principally

occupy, many of them, the humblest (though the most useful) position

in our grand army. It is such men who do the real fighting, and

have to take and give the hardest knocks--and if a score of those

brave hearts are laid low by the hand of war, it creates not half

as much public sensation as the destruction of an old barn by fire,

or the escape of a negro from rebeldom. Their biography is written

by the orderly sergeant in a few words, and their requiem sung by

the turkey-buzzard out on a foraging expedition. Their names, it

is true, are on the rolls of fame; but who cares for these, except

it be their immediate friends and relatives--and the clerks in the

pension-bureau, who mayhap think it particularly unkind in privates

A. B. or C. to die at all, and thus give them so much additional

labor.

Two brothers, named Tibbetts, living about three miles beyond our

outpost, lost some hogs and cattle in a very mysterious way, and came

into our lines to inquire if we knew anything of them. Of course we

didn't, and Billy Patterson's pots never told tales. I entered into

conversation with one of the brothers, who appeared to be a civil

sort of a man, and who invited me among others to visit his house,

saying that he had plenty of eggs, &c., and could get up a very good

dinner for us.

I remembered Tibbetts' invitation, and a few days after, accompanied

by a companion, started out to see him. He lived in a miserable

log cabin, about 20 feet square, without windows, having shutters

to supply their place at night, which were opened in the day time

to admit light and air. A field of about 25 acres surrounded the

domicile, partly planted in corn and peas, with about three acres

of sweet potatoes. And these, with a few pigs, and a small garden,

constituted this family's whole 'visible means of support.' The

family consisted of a sallow, bilious-looking wife (all women

thereabouts, as well as men, look alike) and a half-dozen sallow,

bilious-looking children. (Nearly all the natives of that level,

swampy region are thin, and have a shaky appearance.)

I noticed, to my surprise, upon my first introduction to Madam

Tibbetts, that a small stick protruded about two inches from her

mouth, and that ever and anon she spat out what seemed marvellously

like tobacco juice. I watched her movements for some time during our

conversation, and I noticed that she occasionally removed the stick

from her mouth, and, one end being made soft by chewing, dipped the

same into a box of snuff, replaced it again, and ran it around her

gums and teeth in the same manner as one would use a tooth-brush. I

found that neither Tibbetts or his wife, nor his brother or sister

(the latter a smiling old maid) who afterwards joined us, could

read or write--in fact it was considered quite out of their line

altogether, though they seemed to regret that their children could

not have some education. They were a fair specimen of that class of

settlers at the South known as 'poor whites.'

Being allowed, when off duty, a free range within the lines, our

visits were made in all directions--sometimes (often, I confess)

transgressing our orders, we went beyond, especially towards the

abodes of the Messrs. Tibbetts--and we frequently stumbled upon a

quiet household of 'poor whites,' who received us civilly, though by

no means graciously. All of these were, however, strongly 'secesh' in

feeling, having had their minds pretty thoroughly poisoned with the

false tales told them by their late 'superiors' of Yankee injustice

and cupidity.

In conversation with the elder Tibbetts, I learned that the

honey-bees often selected the trunks of hollow trees in which to

gather immense deposits of honey, and that in going up a creek lately

he had discovered a tree, which he intended visiting some time. The

idea of a 'bee hunt' was novel to me, and I determined to join him;

and, a few days after, with a comrade, started for Tibbetts' house,

who readily undertook to pilot us upon our saccharine expedition.

We were successful in getting a considerable amount of honey; but

staid out so late that the officers became alarmed at our absence,

thinking we were 'gobbled up' by the 'rebs,' and doubled the guard,

served out extra ammunition, &c.,--and when we did come in at last,

reprimanded us for staying out so long, and forbid any of the men

going beyond the lines in future.

Time wore on. At first we expected a recall at the end of each week

after our time had expired, but no such order came, and as the season

was beginning to wear the sear and yellow leaf in its garments, and

the indications of cold weather warned us that the time was at hand

when

"The wild deer and wolf to their covert" must "flee,"

we bethought us that the negro village might abound in material of

which shanties might be erected, and, as Billy Patterson elegantly

expressed it, "be a d--d sight more comfortable than miserable." This

bright thought was slow in spreading, and it was not until three

or four men of a mess erected a snug shanty, that it took root and

flourished--and then there was a rush for the 'diggins.'

The shanties at the outpost, once the shelter of the humble household

gods of many a smoky descendant of Ham, were threatened with

disembowelment--until the fury of the onslaught was turned upon the

cotton gin, which soon presented a skeleton appearance. The plundered

boards and scantling had to be carried by the men half a mile. But

they set to work with a will. For at least two weeks nothing could

be heard around the camp, from sunrise to the going down thereof, but

hammer and saw, and saw and hammer, and from the promiscuous heaps

of purloined boards and scantling there arose in due time one of the

most curious villages that could be met with outside of negrodom;

but they were as comfortable as could be desired, and well laid out

with bunks, gunracks, &c. Each had a flue or chimney for a stove

or fireplace, the bricks to build which had to be carried on the

back, or wheeled by hand from a mile and a half to two miles; and as

wood was plenty, we never lacked for good fires. Thus comfortably

situated, it was no wonder that we became attached to Evans' Mills.

It being designed to erect permanent barracks in the vicinity of

Newbern, and the steam saw mill in that city proving insufficient to

supply enough lumber--workmen being plenty, a detail from any of the

New England regiments supplying any number needed--it was resolved to

repair the broken dam at Evans' Mills. A detachment of about sixty

contrabands, under the superintendence of a sort of Baron Munchhausen

chap, a private in a New York artillery regiment--was sent to make

the necessary repairs.

The dam had broke away at the waste water gate--and the genius

who was sent to repair it, commenced by filling in the waste gate

with brushwood and earth--and, after a month's labor, (costing the

Government over $1,500), he succeeded in partially stopping the

water, so that a few thousand feet of boards could be sawed; but

the first rain-storm swelled the dam so much that, having no proper

outlet for the superabundant water to escape, it gave way, and the

blundering fool and his work departed about the same time--the former

to hospital sick, and the latter to be distributed along the oozy

bottom of the tortuous creek which emptied into the Trent River.

When the rebels were defeated at Newbern, Evans, like other

large planters, sent all his slaves to a plantation which he

owned in the upper part of the State--that is, all who were worth

sending, for he left two old negroes and their wives behind to

'take charge' of the plantation. These, in process of time, and

the occupation of the place by our forces, were joined by others,

until the negro population at the time our company went there,

amounted to about ten, including picaninnies. The old negroes

alluded to were called respectively, Old (Uncle) George, and Indian

Joe. The former venerable old patriarch was "eighty-five, sar,"

communicative and religious, and the latter a cross between the Negro

and Indian--retaining a good deal of the aboriginal physique and

character--respectful, but retiring in his manner; and, though said

to be fully as old as George, was spry and supple, a good hand at

a tar-kiln, and a keen sportsman, never going to the woods without

being accompanied by his dogs and an old Harper's Ferry musket--

"For you know de coons come out sometimes 'fore dark, and de deer

dey stray off up dar down here in de day, and dey's good eatin', I

reckon, is dem deers."

"I suppose you would not hesitate to pink a rebel if he should come

across you instead of a deer, Joe?"

"Lor, yes--no--reckon--(scratching his head). O yes--right good day,

sar--good morning, sar."