RETROSPECTION.
Looking back to the events of the past, I have often thought, “All
things work together for good.” But for the Civil War, we would not
have had the remarkable scene between President McKinley and General
Joe Wheeler, when General Wheeler said: “Mr. President, I drew my sword
to help disrupt this Union; I want now to draw it to help cement it.”
And General Joe Wheeler was commissioned as a United States general,
and became the hero of San Juan Hill. But for the Civil War, we would
not have had a Sam Davis. But for the Civil War, there would not have
developed in the South the noble womanhood that made our history so
illustrious—a womanhood that endured so many sacrifices in giving aid
and sympathy to the soldier boys that inspired “the thin gray line”
to maintain the struggle against odds much beyond its strength. There
should be many monuments in the South to our noble women. But for the
Civil War, we would not have had a Henry Wirz, who went to the scaffold
rather than tell a lie. But for the Civil War, I might not have been a
Mason and the humble instrument in the hands of my brethren in helping
to build the Masonic Widows’ and Orphans’ Home.
In a previous chapter I said that Major H. G. O. Weymouth, who
commanded the Prison Camp at Point Lookout, was a Mason; and the
following correspondence will explain:
NASHVILLE, TENN., Aug. 13th, 1892.
_Editor Herald, Boston, Mass._: While in your busy city a few days
ago, in looking over the _Boston Herald_ I saw the name East Weymouth
(referring to one of your suburbs), and I wondered if this town was
any kin to Major H. G. O. Weymouth, who commanded the Prison Camp,
Point Lookout, Md., back in 1864. I was a prisoner there. Major
Weymouth was a Mason, and allowed the Masons who were prisoners
there to make an appeal to the Masons of Baltimore for clothing; and
he distributed it to them. If Major Weymouth is in the land of the
living, I would like to grasp him by the hand.
MARCUS B. TONEY.
BOSTON, Aug. 17th, 1892.
MARCUS B. TONEY, Nashville, Tenn.
_Dear Sir and Bro._: Yours of the 13th inst. to _Boston Herald_ read,
and I well remember the occurrence as stated by you; and whenever you
come this way I would reciprocate by grasping you by the hand. I live
at 15 Beech Street, Cambridge, Mass., and wish to meet you at my home.
Yours fraternally, H. G. O. WEYMOUTH.
I saw Major Weymouth at the United States customhouse in Boston, July
14, 1905, and had quite a chat with him. I said if the South had gained
her independence it would have been a crime to have hanged him for
the shooting of our prisoners by the negro guards, for the boys had
transgressed the rules by getting on the dead line or talking after
taps; yet all will admit that the offenses did not merit such awful
penalties. Major Weymouth said I was right. He cursed the negroes, and
said he could not control them. He did all he could by relieving them
from duty. In response to my request for his photo, the Major sent
one which was taken at Point Lookout in April, 1864, and the following
letter:
15 BEECH ST., CAMBRIDGE, MASS., July 25, 1906.
_Dear Brother Toney_: Enclosed please find photograph. I was
pleased to hear from you, and should like to have you send me your
“Reminiscences” as soon as you complete them, as they must be very
interesting to all the survivors of your acquaintance during the war.
Occasionally some of our Southern ex-prisoners of war come to see
me—one from Hayes’s Battery, New Orleans, but a few weeks ago. When
you come to Boston, don’t fail to come and see me.
Faithfully yours, H. G. O. WEYMOUTH.
[Illustration: MAJOR H. G. O. WEYMOUTH.]
I have also said that Major Henry Wirz, the Southern commander at the
Andersonville (Ga.) prison, was a Mason, and cited the testimony of Mr.
W. E. Oakley, of Nashville, Tenn. (who was a prisoner there from Ohio),
that Major Wirz was not a cruel man, and performed the burial service
over the Masons there.
The hanging of Major Wirz was very sad. He was tried by a military
commission, or rather drumhead court-martial, the main charges being an
effort to starve the prisoners, and also the issuing of impure virus
with which to vaccinate them. In the testimony used to convict Major
Wirz were affidavits from bounty jumpers, thugs, and coffee-boilers. So
notorious had been the actions of some of these men in Andersonville
prison that six of them were hanged by their own soldiers.
Surgeon James Jones, who was eminent in his profession, and a resident
of Nashville for quite a while after the war, made an exhaustive
report in regard to the sanitary condition of Andersonville prison.
The military commission captured this report and mutilated and garbled
it so that it was used in evidence to convict poor Wirz, though
there was nothing in the original report of Surgeon Jones to fix the
responsibility of the condition of affairs on the accused. It is well
known that the prisoners fared better than the soldiers in General
Lee’s army, who in 1864 were reduced to a quart of meal, and sometimes
to a pint, per day.
Father Boyle, the Catholic priest who attended Henry Wirz, said that
on the night before the execution two men called and went into the
cell, and he thought they came to bring a reprieve. After they retired
he went to see Wirz, and was surprised when Wirz told him that the
men had offered him freedom if he would implicate Jefferson Davis in
a conspiracy to starve the prisoners. Wirz told them he did not know
Jefferson Davis, nor had he ever received any communication from him,
and he _would die before he would tell a lie_. And the poor fellow went
to the scaffold as a martyr to the truth.
In order that my young readers may know what I mean by bounty jumpers,
I will explain. They were mostly foreigners who came to this country,
on a promise of six hundred dollars, to enlist in the army. To men
who had not been earning over fifty cents a day this was a great
inducement. After enlisting and receiving the money, they deserted the
army, or jumped the bounty.
Now as to coffee-boilers. They were so called in the United States Army
because they remained in the rear and boiled coffee while the other
soldiers were at the front. In the Confederate Army we called such men
stragglers. We could not call them coffee-boilers, because after 1863
we did not have any coffee.
These were some of the men who testified against Major Wirz, a class of
men who were despised by the regular United States soldiers.
THE MASONIC WIDOWS’ AND ORPHANS’ HOME.
Coming down the steps of Cumberland Lodge one stormy night (December
27, 1886), I said to Brother W. H. Bumpas, “We must have a Masonic Home
in Tennessee.” He replied, “I will help you build it.” A few days
thereafter we had a set of rules and by-laws, which we presented to
the Grand Lodge on January 27, 1887. Under the by-laws no salaries or
commissions should be received for services. We showed the Grand Lodge
that our charity, scattered over the state and assisted by the various
lodges and the monthly allowance doled out to the widow and orphan,
rather encouraged dependence and did not educate the orphan and tended
to pauperize the widow; that the Home would be indeed a home to the
widow and a school to the children, and in this school the children
would be taught physically, morally, and intellectually, and be
prepared to take their places in the world as educated men and women;
and when they were able to maintain themselves they would take their
mothers from the Home, would set up housekeeping, and thus remove these
charges from the fraternity.
The Grand Lodge, by resolution, approved our plans and agreed to give
financial aid to the cause, and always contributed their surplus. The
Home was organized and chartered in 1887, with the following as charter
members: Marcus B. Toney, William H. Bumpas, James H. Collins, Wilbur
F. Foster, Ben Herman, Edward B. Stahlman, William K. McAllister. The
County Register, County Court Clerk, and Secretary of State remitted
the usual fees.
[Illustration: THE MASONIC HOME.]
One day while Colonel Jere Baxter was building Baxter Court, I
approached him and said: “Colonel Baxter, we are seeking a site for the
Masonic Widows’ and Orphans’ Home, and Mr. Joseph H. Ambrose wishes
to sell his place near Maplewood, and as you wish to know who your
neighbors are, we would like you to purchase and give it to us.” He
looked at me a moment, and said: “I have just as good if not a better
location in the Maplewood tract. Send your committee out and select,
and I will make a deed of gift.” This he did a few days after, and the
property was deeded to the above trustees in behalf of the fraternity
of the state, Noble, generous Jere Baxter! I wish he could have lived
longer, to witness the fruits of his gift.
June 24, 1888, the corner stone was laid, Brother Grand Master H. H.
Ingersoll officiating. December 10, 1892, the building was ready for a
limited number, and we ordered two families from East Tennessee and one
family from West Tennessee. June 24, 1893, the building was dedicated
by Grand Master Henry A. Chambers, and there was a special train from
Louisville over the Louisville and Nashville road bringing a large
delegation of Knights Templars and ladies; and they enjoyed a splendid
barbecue prepared by our wives, sweethearts, and daughters.
In 1894 the Home had increased to ninety-two members, and in 1895
to one hundred and thirty inmates. We had to depend on voluntary
contributions from our members, and the assistance of the Grand Lodge,
which was always generous, especially after the children had been
brought before them and demonstrated their good training.
Our wards were from every section of the state; and in order that each
Mason might contribute to its support and feel an individual interest
and individual ownership, our directors agreed to make an unconditional
deed of gift to the fraternity of the state, and naming the Grand
Lodge officers as trustees. The Grand Lodge accepted the property, and
the seven trustees who held the title of the property under the deed of
gift from Colonel Jere Baxter transferred their rights by deed of gift
to the Grand Lodge officers as aforesaid.
Since the opening of the Home, some two hundred boys and girls have
been educated, and are now employed in Nashville and vicinity, and are
proud of their _alma mater_. Six have married since leaving the Home,
and seven mothers have been taken from the Home by their children and
are now keeping house.
EDWARD WORSHAM.
In 1876 a bright, manly young man named Ed. Worsham was running out
of Memphis on the Louisville and Nashville Railroad as news agent. We
were attracted by the gentle bearing and urbane manners of the youth,
and offered him the position of agent of the Merchants’ Dispatch
Transportation Company, Memphis, which he filled to the satisfaction of
the company and its patrons.
Ed. rose very rapidly in Masonry, and in 1878 was Eminent Grand
Commander of Knights Templars of the state. The Grand Commandery met in
Nashville, May, 1878, and Grand Commander Worsham reviewed the parade
from a stand on the Square in front of the courthouse. Near him were
his mother and sister, who looked with great pride upon their son and
brother. Little did any of us then think that he would so soon pass
from us, as the following telegrams will show:
NASHVILLE, TENN., Sept. 8, 1878.
ED. WORSHAM, M. D. T. Co., Memphis, Tenn.:
I see the yellow fever is epidemic in Memphis. Take such care of
yourself as your general good health may demand.
M. B. TONEY.
MEMPHIS, TENN., Sept. 9, 1878.
M. B. TONEY, M. D. T. Co., Nashville, Tenn.:
Yours received. I went through the epidemic of 1873 on the Masonic
Board of Relief. Have sent my mother and sister to the country, and I
propose to hold the fort.
ED. WORSHAM.
MEMPHIS, TENN., Sept. 12, 1878.
M. B. TONEY, Nashville, Tenn.:
Brother Ed. Worsham died this evening with yellow fever.
ANGEL S. MYERS.
NASHVILLE, TENN., Sept. 13, 1878.
O. B. SKINNER, Gen’l Manager M. D. T. Co., Cleveland,
Ohio.:
Our Agent at Memphis, Edward Worsham, died there yesterday with
yellow fever. His was a noble sacrifice to the cause of humanity.
M. B. TONEY.
SAM DAVIS.
I esteem it a great honor to have belonged to the First Tennessee
Regiment that had in its ranks so illustrious a private as Sam Davis.
His first education was from a pious mother, who instilled into
his mind that truth was a divine attribute. His early school days
were spent at his home near Smyrna, Tenn., and he was later sent to
the Military Institute at Nashville to finish the course. While at
Nashville the war cloud burst upon us, and he hastened to Murfreesboro
(which was eleven miles from his home) and joined the Rutherford Rifles
(Captain William Ledbetter), which was mustered in the First Tennessee
Regiment May 10, 1861, and became Company I. Captain Ledbetter was one
of the noblest captains in the Confederate States Army, and was devoted
to his men. Though he was of small stature and delicate frame, yet
I have seen him carrying the gun of a lame or sick private. Captain
Ledbetter lived till 1906, and left but few of old Company I behind him.
Sam Davis was a soldier full of adventure. Camp life was too tame for
him; he wanted to be on the picket line, or out as a scout, or in the
midst of the battle din. In all our campaigns under General Lee and
Stonewall Jackson, in which we marched some nine hundred miles, we
did not get into a fight, but got ambuscaded on Cheat Mountain, and
lost only a few men. So when we turned our faces toward Tennessee and
Fort Donelson, Sam Davis felt, as we all did, that we would soon be
in the fray; but delays previously mentioned prevented our getting
to the Fort, and when the left wing of the regiment reached Shiloh
Sam was satisfied that he would get into the action. He was detailed
to guard ordnance stores; but, not to be baffled, he gave a comrade
twenty dollars to take his place, and in the first day’s fight he was
wounded, but not seriously. He went into the second day’s engagement,
and succeeded in helping to drive the enemy to the river bluff. Many a
soldier with Sam Davis’s wound would have pleaded disability and gone
to the rear.
At Perryville, Ky., Sam was in the thickest of the fight, and came out
unharmed, though his company suffered severely. After a long, weary
march through Kentucky, East Tennessee, and back to Murfreesboro, Sam
was in the battle of Stone’s River. Our line of battle was only ten
miles from his mother’s home, and in the second day’s fight, when the
First Tennessee was gradually pressing the enemy back, he thought he
would soon see home and mother; but he was doomed to disappointment,
for the order came to fall back. General Rosecrans was also retreating
toward Nashville, yet General Bragg did not seem to know it, and
General Rosecrans took advantage of the situation and called a halt,
and then moved forward. We retired to Shelbyville, and had not been
there long before Sam’s brother, John G. Davis, who was a member of
Captain H. B. Shaw’s Scouts, came and got Sam detached for duty with
the Scouts: and in this service he was engaged when captured near
Pulaski and tried as a spy, and hanged November 27, 1863. He was
unjustly executed, as he was not a spy but a scout, and in addition
to watching and fighting the enemy was getting recruits for General
Bragg’s army.
I think Sam Davis was captured not far south of Lynnville. Captain
John Woldridge (the blind Confederate) was at his mother’s house when
Sam came to Lynnville and talked with Captain W., and the Captain
recognized his voice when Sam spoke. A few days afterwards Captain
Woldridge’s mother said, “John, what manly-looking young man were you
talking to yesterday?” Captain W. replied, “Sam Davis.” His mother
said, “He was hanged yesterday at Pulaski.”
When Sam Davis was captured he was clad in a Confederate uniform,
gray, and over it a Federal overcoat dyed brown. In one of his boots,
concealed by a false inside, were a number of letters addressed to
persons in the South; also a report from Captain Shaw to General Bragg,
giving the disposition of the Federal forces in Middle Tennessee,
including General Dodge’s troops stationed near Pulaski. Captain Shaw
was afterwards captured and placed in jail with Sam Davis, but in
giving his name said it was Coleman.
Among the documents found in Sam Davis’s boot was one which General
Dodge thought had been given him by one of the Federals; and the
General assured Sam if he would divulge the name of the informant he
would set him free. In reply the heroic prisoner said, “If I had a
thousand lives, I would give them all rather than betray a trust.” I am
glad that the Daughters of the Confederacy have erected a monument to
Sam Davis at Pulaski, and that it bears the above godlike inscription.
Mr. Will S. Ezell, of Pulaski, was a boy standing near the jail about
noon of November 27, 1863, and he said Sam Davis walked between the
guards with a firm step and noble mien, and mounted the wagon and
took a seat on his coffin with the utmost composure. On reaching the
scaffold, some one told him of the battle of Missionary Ridge, and he
replied, “The old First Tennessee must in future do their fighting
without me.” The Federal chaplain, Rev. James Young, prayed with Sam,
then removed his overcoat, the noose was adjusted, and the tragedy
closed. Some weeks afterwards Mr. John C. Kennedy obtained a permit
from General Rousseau, went to Pulaski, disinterred the body, and
brought it to his mother’s home, and it rests in the family burying
ground. Mr. Kennedy also retained the boot, which is now in the History
Building at Centennial Park, Nashville.
After the war Captain Shaw was very reticent as to his movements during
the conflict, yet he was unstinted in his praise of Sam Davis and his
many exploits in the field. On account of his association with Sam
Davis, he became peculiarly attached to his brother, John G. Davis;
they were to each other as Jonathan and David, and owned an interest in
the steamer _David White_, with Dan Kinney, of Nashville, as captain.
The _White_ blew up, February 17, 1867, on the lower Mississippi,
killing John Davis and Captain H. B. Shaw and badly scalding Captain
Kinney.
[Illustration: SAM DAVIS’S BOOT.]
At the close of the Centennial Exposition at Nashville in 1897,
President J. W. Thomas and Director General E. C. Lewis suggested and
recommended that the History Building and the Parthenon be preserved,
the History Building to be used as a depository for Confederate relics.
President J. W. Thomas was in the transportation department of the
Confederate States in 1861-65, and filled that position with diligence
and fidelity, as he afterwards managed a great corporation to the day
of his death. I loved him devotedly, and I learned from his secretary,
Mr. T. B. Clarkson, that his last official act was dictating and
signing his name to a communication to me.
[Illustration: HISTORY BUILDING, CENTENNIAL PARK.]
Major E. C. Lewis was a boy during the war, and witnessed the Fort
Donelson fight. His mother belonged to that noble hand of Southern
women who inspired the Confederate soldier to deeds of valor and
endurance.
The History Building in Centennial Park contains many Confederate
relics, and here may be seen Sam Davis’s boot from which was cut the
inner sole, disclosing the documents that led to his execution.
THE CARE OF CONFEDERATE GRAVES.
NASHVILLE, June 11, 1902.
HON. J. B. FORAKER, Cincinnati, Ohio.
_Dear Sir_: While attending the unveiling exercises of the
Confederate statue at Camp Chase, Ohio, a few days ago, I saw
surrounding the Confederate Cemetery a substantial stone fence
which I learned was built through your efforts, and I thought “one
good turn deserves another,” and would ask if at the next session
of Congress you would introduce a measure appropriating $200,000
to suitably mark the resting places of my 24,456 comrades who were
buried from Northern prisons in 1861-1865.
Yours very truly, MARCUS B. TONEY.
The bill was introduced as promised, and was finally passed in
February, 1906.
[Illustration: SENATOR J. B. FORAKER.]
A few months after I wrote Senator Foraker I met him in the office of
Judge H. H. Lurton, of the United States District Court of Appeals.
Judge Lurton said: “Senator Foraker, I was a resident of near Columbus,
Ohio, during the Civil War.” “Ah!” said the Senator; “whereabouts?”
The Judge replied: “At Camp Chase, where I was a prisoner of war. I
went in as a private, and the Federals promoted me to sergeant of a
mess.” Judge Lurton’s case illustrated the possibilities of American
youth—from a private soldier to the judgeship of the United States
District Court of Appeals, and Senator Foraker before him to argue as
chief attorney in so important a suit as the Northern Pacific Railway
case.
CAPTAIN D. JOBE
was another intrepid scout who met a violent and sudden death. His
family home was near Triune, Tenn., and his company operated in the
rear of General Rosecrans’s army, as did that of Captain Shaw. One day,
after being hotly pursued by the enemy, he reached his mother’s home
and ran in and threw his arms around her and said: “Mother, I am very
weary, and must have a little rest, yet I dare not tarry in the house
but will go up to yonder thick woods, will get a little needed rest,
and will come back and say good-by.” Poor fellow! he never returned to
his mother’s house. Riding up in the woods, he dismounted, tethered his
horse to graze, removed the saddle, of which he made a pillow on the
ground, and soon was taking the much-needed sleep. The enemy crept upon
him stealthily and shot him while he slept.
There was not a more gallant scout than Captain D. Jobe. All honor to
his memory.
THE FAITHFUL NEGROES.
So much has been written by Southern writers of the old uncles and
black mammies of the South that one would think the field had been
thrashed over. Yet there were different types of the old negroes, and
many of us had different experiences with them. My mother died at the
age of twenty-five. She was preceded by my three young sisters, and
soon after by my father. So mother’s maid became my black mammy, and
the love she bore mother seemed to be intensified, and concentrated
upon me. Sometimes she was cruel to her own children, but never put her
hand on me unkindly. When I started from my home in Edgefield, clad in
my uniform of gray and a big B on my cap, I called black mammy to say
good-by. She threw her arms around me and said: “Don’t let them Yankees
kill you. I am gwine to pray for you.” And before I reached the front
gate, she plucked off her old shoe and threw it at me.
There was a superstition among the old Virginia darkies that to give
good luck to those departing an old shoe must be thrown at them. (I
will say here in parenthesis that the Southern children of those days
imbibed some of the superstitions of their black mammies.) I don’t
believe my black mammy’s old shoe had anything to do with my return;
yet who knows but that through all the privations I have safely passed
black mammy’s prayer availed in my behalf? She lived to be fourscore
and six, and surrounded by her children and grandchildren, seeming to
forget them all in her last moments, she passed out with my name upon
her lips.
When I received notice to appear at the photographer’s in August,
1865, I said to old Uncle Ike, “My clothing is rather dilapidated.” He
replied, “I want you to look as well as any o’ dem, and I’ll fetch you
down my broadcloth coat.” And I am standing in the group of survivors
of Company B, Rock City Guards, the sixth man from the right, and the
best-dressed man in the group. Yet old Uncle Ike never thought of
social equality.
Many negroes went with their young masters to the front as cooks
and servants, and when freedom was offered them they declined,
preferring to remain as servants rather than to assume the cares and
responsibilities of freedom, which they thought might estrange them
from their masters.
COMPANY B, CONFEDERATE VETERANS.
In explanation of my picture in the frontispiece I would state that
in 1895 comrade William Aimison and I organized and recruited Company
B, Confederate Veterans, to the number of one hundred, in which are
represented some thirty-five Tennessee regiments, that took part in
the war of 1861-65. I was tendered an office, but declined, and chose
to enter as a private. I, however, was placed on the committee to name
the officers. We were soon after attached to the National Guards,
State of Tennessee, and wear a United States belt and cartridge box
and carry Springfield breech-loaders. I suppose in an emergency call
by the President or Governor we could muster sixty men for duty. Our
first parade was at the Richmond reunion in 1896, and the next in 1897
at Nashville. Since then the company has been in parade at all the
reunions.
[Illustration: MONROE GOOCH, CO. B, CONFEDERATE VETERANS.]
We received an invitation to the reunion of the Blue and Gray on
President McKinley’s day in Evansville, Ind., October 11, 1900.
Leaving here on the evening of the 10th, it was late in the night when
the Evansville and Terra Haute Railway switched our car containing
seventy-nine men to the Fair Grounds in Evansville. We found four
thousand Blues in camp, and when we marched in with fife and drum
to the tune of “Dixie,” there was not much sleep for the night. The
Blues crowded around us, and we spun out war stories till early in
the morning. Belonging to our company was Monroe Gooch, one of the
faithful negroes who went through the war—faithful to his trust. The
Blues had provided A tents, each serving four men. The committee did
not furnish a tent for Monroe Gooch, and I told him to crawl in with
some of the boys, making five in one tent. Next morning we had dress
parade at six o’clock, and as we wanted Monroe in it, we asked him to
sit at the breakfast table with the company. Four Indiana negroes were
cooking for each company, and I heard one of them say: “Look dar at dem
Southern folks; dey knows how to treat niggers; one eatin’ at table wid
’em.” Yet Monroe Gooch never thought of social equality.
The Cleveland Grays, the President’s Own as they were called, escorted
the President to the city, but in the parade the Cleveland Grays were
put aside and Company B, Confederate Veterans, given the post of honor;
and the programme committee of Evansville citizens did me the honor to
put me on the programme with the President, in an address to the Blue
and Gray.
There was a large reunion tent in the Fair Grounds, and any one who
wore the blue or gray ate and drank without money or price. After the
parade, we opened ranks and clasped hands with the Blues, their wives
and daughters. Four thousand Blues to eighty Grays gave us a good many
handclasps, and my right arm was tired for two weeks. We made a parade
through the streets of Evansville, and had one grand ovation all along
the line. I was gratified to see the city of Evansville decorated with
so many pictures containing three in a group—viz.: Generals Grant,
Lee, and Stonewall Jackson. At night Company B was entertained by the
Cleveland Grays, and the only complaint I made was that they gave some
of my men too much champagne.
It has been my good fortune to attend many reunions, but nowhere, not
even in our Southland, have we met with a more cordial reception than
in Evansville. The United Confederate Veteran reunions in the South are
so largely attended, and so many have to be entertained, that it is
difficult to reach them all. In Evansville we were the guests not only
of the city but of the four thousand Blues camped in the Fair Grounds.
I think it will be proper to close this volume with some verses by
Captain Harry L. Flash, of General Joe Wheeler’s staff in 1861-65. He
wished to go with General Wheeler to Cuba, but under the present army
regulations his age barred him:
You who faced the boys in blue,
(When like a storm they rose),
And played with life and laughed at death
Among such stalwart foes,
Need never cast your eyes to earth
Or bow your heads with shame—
Though fortune frown, your names are down
Upon the Roll of Fame.
The flag you followed in the fight
Will never float again—
Thank God, it sank to endless rest
Without a blot or stain!
And in its place Old Glory rose
With all its stars restored:
And smiling Peace, with rapture, raised
A pæan to the Lord.
We love both flags—let smiles and tears
Together hold their sway;
One won our hearts in days agone—
One owns our love to-day.
We claim them both with all their wealth
Of honor and of fame—
One lives triumphant in the sun:
And one a hallowed name.
A few short years and “Yank” and “Reb”
Beneath their native sod
Will wait until the judgment day
The calling voice of God—
The Great Commander’s smile will beam
On that enrollment day,
Alike on him who wore the blue
And him who wore the gray.
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 89 Changed: would have been hanged for the may crimes
To: would have been hanged for the many crimes
pg 139 Changed: the Unted States Army because they remained
To: the United States Army because they remained