CHAPTER XLIII

While in camp here there was a feeble attempt made to reorganize and [527] consolidate the brigade by putting the smaller companies together and making one regiment out of two. As these changes took place so near the end, the soldiers never really realizing a change had been made, I will do no more than make a passing allusion to it, as part of this history. The only effect these changes had was the throwing out of some of our best and bravest officers (there not being places for all), but as a matter of fact this was to their advantage, as they escaped the humiliation of surrender, and returned home a few days earlier than the rest of the army.

After passing through South Carolina and venting its spleen on the Secession State, the Federal Army, like a great forest fire, sweeping over vast areas, stops of its own accord by finding nothing to feed upon. The vandalism of the Union Army in North Carolina was confined mostly to the burning of the great turpentine forests. They had burned and laid waste the ancestral homes of lower South Carolina, left in ashes the beautiful capital of the State, wrecked and ruined the magnificent residences and plantations of the central and upper part of the country, leaving in their wake one vast sheet of ruin and desolation, so that when they met the pine barrens of North Carolina, their appetites for pillage, plunder, and destruction seems to have been glutted.

It was the boast of the Federal commander and published with delight in all the Northern newspapers, that "where his army went along a crow could not pass over without taking its rations along." Then, too, this very country was to feed and support, while in transit to their homes almost the whole of Johnston's and the greater part of Lee's Army. All these, in squads or singly, were fed along the way from house to house wherever they could beg a little meal or corn, with a morsel of meat or molasses. A great number of negro troops also passed through this country on their way to the coast to be disbanded. But the noble women of South Carolina never turned a hungry soldier from their doors as long as there was a mouthful in the house to eat.

Another terror now alarmed the people—the news of a great raid, under Stoneman, being on its way through North Carolina and upper South Carolina, coming across the country from East Tennessee, laying waste everything in its track. General Sherman had concentrated his whole army at Goldsboro, and was lying idle in camp, preparatory to his [528] next great move to connect with Grant. He had at his command the right wing, under General Howard, twenty-eight thousand eight hundred and thirty-four; its left wing, under General Slocum, twenty-eight thousand and sixty-three. General Schofield had come up from Newbern with twenty-six thousand three hundred and ninety-two and constituted the center, besides five thousand six hundred and fifty-nine cavalry, under Kilpatrick, and ninety-one pieces of artillery. General Johnston had encamped his army between two roads, one leading to Raleigh, the other to Weldon. The Confederate Government, after the evacuation of Richmond, had now established its quarters at Danville, Va., awaiting the next turn of the wheel. Lee had fallen back from Petersburg; while Johnston, before Sherman, was awaiting the move of that General to fall back still nearer to his illustrious chieftain. The government and all the armies were now hedged in the smallest compass. Still our leaders were apparently hopeful and defiant, the troops willing to stand by them to the last.

On the 10th of April President Davis and a part of his cabinet left Danville on his way to Greensboro. Even at this late day President Davis was urging the concentration of the troops under General Walker, the scattered troops at Salisbury and Greensboro, and those under Johnston at same place on the Yadkin, and crush Sherman, and then it is supposed to turn on Grant. All this with less than twenty thousand men!

The last conference of the great men of the Confederacy met at Greensboro, on the 13th of April, 1865. Those present were President Davis, Messrs. Benjamin, Secretary of State; Mallory, of the Navy; Reagin, Postmaster General; Breckinridge, Secretary of War, and General Johnston. The army had been falling back daily through Raleigh, and was now encamped near Greensboro. President Davis still clung to the delusion that by pressing the conscript act and bringing out all absentees, they could yet prolong the struggle, even if they had to cross the Mississippi and join with Kirby Smith. General Johnston urged in his and General Beauregard's name its utter impracticability, and informed the President plainly and positively that it was useless to continue the struggle—that they had as well [529] abandon all hope of any other issue than that which they could gain through the Federal authorities, and besought Mr. Davis to open negotiations looking to peace—that he was yet the executive and head of the Confederate Government; that he was the proper one to commence such negotiations. This Mr. Davis refused, saying the Federal authorities would refuse to treat with him. Then General Johnston proposed doing so in his own name. This was agreed to, and a letter written by Mr. Mallory, he being the best penman in the group, and signed and sent by General Johnston to General Sherman. The letter recapitulated the results in the army in the last few days, changing the status of the two armies and the needless amount of bloodshed and devastation of property that the continuance of the struggle would produce, and asked for a conference looking to an armistice in the armies until the civil government could settle upon terms of peace. The letter was sent to General Hampton, and by him to the Federal commander the next day. General Sherman acknowledged the receipt of the letter on the 14th, and it reached General Johnston on the 16th, agreeing to a cessation of hostilities until further notice. General Sherman expressed in his letter a great desire to spare the people of North Carolina the devastation and destruction the passing of his army through the State would necessitate. When it began to be noised about in the camp that the army was about to be surrendered, the soldiers became greatly excited. The thought of grounding their arms to an enemy never before entered their minds, and when the news came of a surrender the greatest apprehension and dread seized all. So different the end to their expectation. None could even think of the future without a shudder. Some anticipated a term in Federal prisons; others, the higher officers, a military trial; others thought of their private property and their arms. Even in a prison camp, where our soldiers would be kept confined under a Federal guard, all was mystery and uncertainty. The wives and helpless children, left in the rear to the mercy of the negroes (now for the first time known to be free), agitated the minds of not a few. Men began to leave the army by twos and by squads. Guards were placed on all roads and around camps, and the strictest orders were given against leaving the army without [530] leave. Cavalrymen in great numbers had mounted their horses and rode away. General Sherman sent guards to all fords and bridges to examine all the paroles of the troops of Lee now swarming through the country.

General Johnston met General Sherman at Durham, on the 17th of April, at the house of Mr. Bennett, but after a long and tedious controversy, nothing was agreed upon. A second meeting took place at the same house next day, at which General Breckinridge was unofficially present, when terms of an armistice were agreed to until the department at Washington could be beard from. President Davis had already gone South with such of his cabinet as chose to follow him, the whole settlement of difficulties now devolving upon General Johnston alone.

But just as all negotiations were progressing finely the news came of President Lincoln's assassination, throwing the whole of the Federal Army in a frenzy of excitement. While the troops of the South may not have given their assent to such measures, yet they rejoiced secretly; in their hearts that the great agitator, emancipator—the cause of all our woes—was laid low. To him and him alone all looked upon as being the originator, schemer, and consummater of all the ills the South had suffered. However the hearts of the Southern people may have changed in the thirty years that have passed, or how sadly they deplored his death, even in a decade afterwards, I but voice the sentiment of the South at the time when I say they hated Lincoln with all the venom of their souls, and his untimely taking off by the hands of the assassin partly consoled them for all they had suffered.

Orders came from General Sherman to General Johnston to the effect that part of their agreement was rejected by the Washington Authority, and notifying the latter that the truce would be called off in forty-eight hours. This occasioned a third meeting between the two commanders to make such changes that were required by the authorities. On the 26th General Johnston sent a communication to General Sherman requesting a meeting at same place for further conference. This was agreed to and the meeting took place, where such terms were agreed upon and signed as was thought to be in accordance with the wishes of the Washington Government. Rolls were made out in duplicate of all the officers and soldiers, and on the 2nd of May the troops marched out, [531] stacked their arms, were given paroles, and slowly turned away and commenced their homeward journey.

A military chest, containing $39,000, had been received from the Government in Richmond and divided out among the soldiers, being $1.29 apiece. All the Wagon and artillery horses and wagons, also, were loaned to the soldiers and divided by lot. A few days' rations had been issued, and with this and the clothes on their back, this remnant at a once grand army bent their steps towards their desolate homes. It was found advisable to move by different routs and in such numbers as was most agreeable and convenient. Once away from the confines of the army, they took by-ways and cross country, roads, avoiding as much as possible the track of the late army. The troops of Kershaw's Brigade, on reaching the borders of their State, each sought for himself the easiest and nearest path home. The Western Army made their way, the most of them at least, to Washington, Ga., where there was yet railroad communication a part of the way through Georgia.

And now, gentle reader, my task is done—my pen laid aside, after days and days of earnest toil to give a faithful and correct account of your daring, your endurance, your patriotism, and your fidelity to the cause you had espoused. Your aims have been of the highest, your performances ideal, and while you were unsuccessful, still your deeds of daring will live in history as long as civilization lasts. While your cherished hopes ended in a dream, still your aspirations have been of the loftiest, and your acts will be copied by generations yet unborn, as a fitting pattern for all brave men. You have fought in all the great battles of the East, from the trenches of Petersburg to the rugged heights of Round Top. Your blood mingled with that of your comrades of the West, from Chickamauga to the storming of Fort London. You combatted the march of Sherman from the Saltkahatchie to the close, and stacked your arms more as conquering heroes than beaten foes. You have nothing to regret but the results—no hope but the continued prosperity of a reunited people. This heritage of valor left to posterity as a memorial of Southern manhood to the Southern cause will be cherished by your descendants for all time, and when new generations come on and read the histories of the great Civil War, and [532] recall to their minds the fortitude, the chivalry, and the glories of the troops engaged, Kershaw's Brigade will have a bright page in the book of their remembrance.

CHAPTER XLIV

The Virginians were the cavaliers of the South, high-toned, high-bred, each individual soldier inspired by that lofty idea of loyalty of the [533] cavalier. They were the ideal soldiers in an open field and a fair fight. They were the men to sweep a battle line that fronts them from the field by their chivalrous and steady courage. Virginia, the mother of Presidents, of great men, and noble women, the soldier of that State felt in honor bound to sustain the name and glory of their commonwealth. As a matter of fact, the Virginians, as a rule, with exceptions enough to establish the rule, being one of the oldest of the sister States, her wealth, her many old and great institutions of learning, were better educated than the mass of soldiers from the other States. They were soldiers from pride and patriotism, and courageous from "general principles." In an open, fair field, and a square and even fight, no enemy could stand before their determined advance and steady fire. They were not the impulsive, reckless, head-strong soldiers in a desperate charge as were those from some other Southern States, but cool, collected, steady, and determined under fire. They were of the same mettle and mould as their kinsmen who stood with Wellington at Waterloo.

The North Carolinians were the "Old Guard" of the Confederacy. They had little enthusiasm, but were the greatest "stickers" and "stayers" on a battle line of any troops from the South. They fought equally as well in thicket or tangled morass as behind entrenchments. To use an army expression, "The North Carolinians were there to stay." It was a jocular remark, common during the war, that the reason the North Carolina troops were so hard to drive from a position was "they had so much tar on their heels that they could not run." They were obstinate, tenacious, and brave.

South Carolinians took on in a great measure the inspirations of some of their French Huguenot ancestors and the indomitable courage of their Scotch and German forefathers of the Revolution. They were impulsive, impetuous, and recklessly brave in battle, and were the men to storm breastworks and rush to the cannon's mouth at the head of a "forlorn hope." They possibly might not stay as long in a stubbornly contested battle as some from other States, but would often accomplish as much in a few minutes by the mad fury of their assault as some others would accomplish in as many hours. They were the Ironsides of the South, and each individual felt that he had a holy mission to [534] fulfill. There were no obstacles they could not surmount, no position they would not assail. Enthusiasm and self-confidence were the fort of South Carolinians, and it was for them to raise the Rebel yell and keep it up while the storm of battle raged fierce and furious. They were the first to raise the banner of revolt, and right royally did they sustain it as long as it floated over the Southland.

What is said of the South Carolinians can be truthfully said of Georgians. People of the same blood, and kindred in all that makes them one, they could be with propriety one and the same people. The Georgians would charge a breastwork or storm a battery with the same light-heartedness as they went to their husking bees or corn-shucking, all in a frolick. To illustrate their manner of fighting, I will quote from a Northern journal, published just after the seven days' battles around Richmond, a conversation between Major D., of the —— New York, and a civilian of the North. The Major was boasting in a noisy manner of the courage, daring, and superiority of the Northern soldiers over those of the South. "Well, why was it," asked the civilian, "if you were so superior in every essential to the Rebels, that you got such an everlasting licking around Richmond?" "Licking, h——l," said the wounded Major, "who could fight such people? Indians! Worse than an Apache. Just as we would get in line of battle and ready for an advance, a little Georgia Colonel, in his shirt sleeves and copperas breeches, would pop out into a corn field at the head of his regiment, and shout at the top of his voice, 'Charge!' Man alive! here would come the devils like a whirlwind—over ditches, gullies, fences, and fields, shouting, yelling, whooping, that makes the cold chills run up your back—flash their glittering bayonets in our very faces, and break our lines to pieces before you could say 'boo.' Do you call that fighting? It was murder." No more need be said of the Georgians.

Little Florida did not have many troops in the field, but little as she was, she was as brave as the best. Her troops, like those of Georgia and South Carolina, were impulsive, impetuous, and rapid in battle. They were few in numbers, but legions in the fray.

The Alabamians and Mississippians came of pioneer stock, and like their ancestry, were inured to hardships and dangers from childhood; [535] they made strong, hardy, brave soldiers. Indifferent to danger, they were less careful of their lives than some from the older States. They were fine marksmen; with a steady nerve and bold hearts, they won, like Charles Martel, with their hammer-like blows. They were the fanatical Saraceus of the South; while nothing could stand before the broad scimeters of the former, so nothing could stand in the way of the rifle and bayonet of the latter.

The Louisianians were the Frenchmen of the South. Of small stature, they were the best marchers in the army. Like their ancestors in the days of the "Grand Monarch," and their cousins in the days of the "Great Napoleon," they loved glory and their country. Light-hearted and gay in camp, they were equally light-hearted and gay in battle. Their slogan was, "Our cause and our country." The Louisianians were grand in battle, companionable in camp, and all round soldiers in every respect.

The Texan, unlike the name of Texan immediately after the war, when that country was the city of refuge for every murderer and cut-throat of the land, were gallant, chivalrous, and gentlemanly soldiers. Descendants of bold and adventurous spirits from every State in the South, they were equally bold and daring in battle, and scorned the very word of fear or danger. Hood's old Texas Brigade shared honors with the old Stonewall Brigade in endurance, courage, and obstinacy in action. The soldiers of Texas were tenacious, aggressive, and bold beyond any of their brethren of the South.

The Tennesseeans, true to the instincts of their "back woods" progenitors, were kind-hearted, independent, and brimful of courage. Driven from their homes and firesides by a hostile foe, they became a "storm center" in battle. They were combative and pugnacious, and defeat had no effect upon their order, and they were ever ready to turn and strike a foe or charge a battery. Their courage at Chickamauga is distinguished by showing the greatest per cent of killed and wounded in battle that has even been recorded, the charge of the Light Brigade not excepted, being over forty-nine per cent.

What is said of the Tennesseeans is equally true of the Arkansans. Of a common stock and ancestry, they inherited all the virtues and [536] courage of their forefathers. The Confederacy had no better soldiers than the Arkansans—fearless, brave, and oftentimes courageous beyond prudence.

The border States' soldiers, Missourians, Kentuckians, and Marylanders, were the free lance of the South. They joined the fortunes of the South with the purest motives and fought with the highest ideals. Under Forrest and Morgan and the other great riders of the West, they will ever be the soldiers of story, song, and romance. Their troops added no little lustre to the constellation of the South's great heroes, and when the true history of the great Civil War shall be written, they will be remembered. Indomitable in spirits, unconquerable and unyielding in battle, they will ever stand as monuments to the courage of the Southern Army.

THE MAGNITUDE OF THE WAR—ITS LOSSES IN KILLED AND DIED.

What were the Confederate losses during the war? Where are the Confederate dead? Which State lost the most soldiers in proportion to the number furnished the war? These are questions which will perhaps be often asked, but never answered. It can never be known, only approximately. The cars containing the Confederate archives were left unguarded and unprotected at Greensboro on its way from Richmond, until General Beauregard noticed papers from the car floating up and down the railroad track, and had a guard placed over them and sent to Charlotte. There was a like occurrence at this place, no protection and no guard, until General Johnston had them turned over to the Federal authorities for safe keeping. Consequently, the Confederate rolls on file in Washington are quite incomplete, and the loss impossible to ever be made good.

The Federal authorities commenced immediately after the war to collect their dead in suitable cemeteries, and the work of permanently marking their graves continued systematically until the Federal loss in the war can be very accurately estimated. There are seventy-five public cemeteries for the burial of the Federal soldiers, in which are buried three hundred and sixty thousand two hundred and seven; of these, one hundred and thirty-nine thousand four hundred and ninety-six are marked unknown. There were thirty-three thousand five hundred and twenty negro soldiers buried in the cemeteries, and more than fifty [537] thousand Union dead never accounted for A great number of these fell by the wayside during "Sherman's march to the sea;" lost by "Sherman's rear guard," called by the Federal soldiers "Confederate bushwhackers"

The rolls of the Confederate dead in the archives at Washington, given by States, are very unsatisfactory and necessarily incomplete Only two States can even approximate their loss. But as this is the record in Washington, I give it.

In the above it will be seen that North Carolina, which may be considered approximately correct, lost more than any other State. Virginia furnished as many, if not more, troops than North Carolina, still her losses are one-third less, according to the statistics in Washington. This is far from being correct. Alabama's dead are almost eliminated from the rolls, while it is reasonable to suppose that she lost as many as South Carolina, Mississippi, or Georgia. South Carolina furnished more troops in proportion to her male white population than any State in the South, being forty-five thousand to August, 1862, and eight thousand reserves. It is supposed by competent statisticians that the South lost in killed and died of wounds, ninety-four thousand; and lost by disease, one hundred and twenty-five thousand.

In some of the principal battles throughout the war, there were killed out right, not including those died of wounds—

There were many other battles, some of greater magnitude than the above, which are not here given. There are generally five wounded to one killed, and nearly one-third of the wounded die of their wounds, thus a pretty fair estimate of the various battles can be had. There were more men killed and wounded at Gettysburg than on any field of battle during the war, but it must be born in mind that its duration was three days. General Longstreet, who should be considered a judge, says that there were more men killed and wounded on the battlefield at Sharpsburg (or Antietam), for the length of the engagement and men engaged, than any during this century.

The Union losses on the fields mentioned above exceeded those of the Confederates by thirteen thousand five hundred in killed and died of wounds.

There were twenty-five regular prison pens at the North, at which twenty-six thousand seven hundred and seventy-six Confederate prisoners died, tabulated as follows:

War is an expensive pastime for nations, not alone in the loss of lives and destruction of public and private property, but the expenditures in actual cash—gold and silver—is simply appalling. It is claimed by close students of historical data, those who have given the subject careful study, that forty million of human beings lose their lives during every century by war alone. Extravagant as this estimate may seem, anyone who will carefully examine the records of the great conflicts of our own century will readily be convinced that there are not as much extravagance in the claim as a cursory glance at the figures would indicate. Europe alone loses between eighteen, and twenty million, as estimated by the most skillful statisticians. Since the time of the legendary Trojan War (three thousand years), it is supposed by good authority that one billion two hundred thousand of human, beings have lost their lives by the hazard of war, not all in actual battle alone, but by wounds and diseases incident to a soldier's life, in addition to those fallen upon the field.

In the wars of Europe during the first half of this century two million and a half of soldiers lost their lives in battle, and the country was impoverished to the extent of six billions eight hundred and fifty millions of dollars, while three millions of soldiers have perished in war since 1850. England's national debt was increased by the war of 1792 to nearly one billion and a half, and during the Napoleonic wars to the amount of one billion six hundred thousand dollars.

During the last seventy years Russia has expended for war measures the sum of one billion six hundred and seventy million dollars, and lost seven hundred thousand soldiers. It cost England, France, and Russia, in the Crimean war of little more than a year's duration, one billion five hundred million dollars, and five hundred thousand lives lost by the four combined nations engaged.

But all this loss, in some cases lasting for years, is but a bagatelle in comparison to the loss in men and treasure during the four years of our Civil War.

According to the records in Washington, the North spent, for the equipment and support of its armies during the four years of actual hostilities, four billion eight hundred million in money, outside of the millions expended in the maintenance of its armies during the days of Reconstruction, and lost four hundred and ten thousand two hundred [540] and fifty-seven men. The war cost the South, in actual money on a gold basis, two billion three hundred million, to say nothing of the tax in kind paid by the farmers of the South for the support of the army. The destruction and loss in public and private property, outside of the slaves, is simply appalling. The approximate loss in soldiers is computed at two hundred and nineteen thousand.

The actual cost of the war on both sides, in dollars and cents, and the many millions paid to soldiers as pensions since the war, would be a sum sufficient to have paid for all the negroes in the South several times over, and paid the national debt and perhaps the debts of most of the Southern States at the commencement of the war.

This enormous loss in blood and treasure on the part of the South was not spent in the attempts at conquest, the subversion of the Union, or the protection of the slave property, but simply the maintenance of a single principle—the principle of States Rights, guaranteed by the Federal Constitution.

THE CONFEDERATE DEAD—THE BATTLEFIELDS OF THE CIVIL WAR—THE TWO CIVILIZATIONS.

The North has gathered up the bones of the greater part of her vast armies of the dead, commencing the task immediately after the war, and interred them in her vast national cemeteries. At the head of each is an imperishable head-stone, on which is inscribed the name of the dead soldier, where a record has been kept, otherwise it is simply marked "unknown." The North was the victor; she was great, powerful, and rolling in wealth; she could do this, as was right and just.

But where are the South's dead? Echo answers from every hill and dale, from every home where orphan and widow weep and mourn, "Where?" The South was the vanquished, stricken in spirits, and ruined in possessions; her dead lie scattered along every battle ground from Cemetery Ridge and the Round Top at Gettysburg, to the Gulf and far beyond the Father of Waters. One inscription on the head-stones would answer for nearly all, and marked "unknown." One monument would suffice for all the army of the dead, and an appropriate inscription would be a slight paraphrase of old Simonides on the shaft erected to the memory of the heroes of Thermopylae—

"Go, stranger, and to Southland tell
That here, obeying her behest, we fell."

The names of the great majority have already been forgotten, only within a circumscribed circle are they remembered, and even from this they will soon have passed into oblivion. But their deeds are recorded in the hearts of their countrymen in letters everlasting, and their fame as brave and untarnished soldiers will be remembered as long as civilization admires and glories in the great deeds of a great people. Even some of the great battle grounds upon which the South immortalized itself and made the American people great will soon be lost to memory, and will live only in song and story. Yet there are others which, through the magnificent tribute the North has paid to her dead, will be remembered for all time.

Looking backwards through the lapse of years since 1861, over some of the great battlefields of the Civil War, we see striking contrasts. On some, where once went carnage and death hand in hand, we now see blooming fields of growing grain, broad acres of briar and brush, while others, a magnificent "city of the dead." Under the shadow of the Round Top at Gettysburg, where the earth trembled beneath the shock of six hundred belching cannon, where trampling legions spread themselves along the base, over crest and through the gorges of the mountain, are now costly parks, with towering monuments—records of the wonderful deeds of the dead giants, friend and foe.

Around the Capital of the "Lost Cause," where once stood forts and battlements, with frowning cannon at each salient, great rows of bristling bayonets capping the walls of the long winding ramparts, with men on either side standing grim and silent, equally ready and willing to consecrate the ground with the blood of his enemy or his own, are now level fields of grain, with here and there patches of undergrowth and briars. Nothing now remains to conjure the passer-by that here was once encamped two of the mightiest armies of earth, and battles fought that astounded civilization.

On the plains of Manassas, where on two different occasions the opposing armies met, where the tide of battle surged and rolled back, where the banners of the now vanquished waved in triumph from every section of the field, the now victors fleeing in wild confusion, [542] beaten, routed, their colors trailing in the dust of shame and defeat, now all to mark this historic battle ground is a broken slab or column, erected to individuals, defaced by time and relic seekers, and hidden among the briars and brush.

From the crest and along the sides of Missionary Ridge, and from the cloud-kissed top of Lookout Mountain, to Chickamauga, where the flash of cannon lit up the valley and plain below, where swept the armies of the blue and the gray in alternate victory and defeat, where the battle-cry of the victorious mingled with the defiant shouts of the vanquished, where the cold steel of bayonets met, and where brother's gun flashed in the face of brother, where the tread of contending armies shook the sides and gorges of the mountain passes, are now costly granite roadways leading to God's Acre, where are buried the dead of the then two nations, and around whose border runs the "River of Death" of legend, Chickamauga. Over this hallowed ground floats the flag of a reunited country, where the brother wearing the uniform of the victor sleeps by the side of the one wearing the uniform of the vanquished. Along the broad avenues stand lofty monuments or delicately chiseled marble, erected by the members of the sisterhood of States, each representing the loyalty and courage of her respective sons, and where annually meet the representatives of the Frozen North with those of the Sunny South, and in one grand chorus rehearse the death chants of her fallen braves, whose heroism made the name of the nation great. To-day there stands a monument crowned with laurels and immortelles, erected by the State to the fallen sons of the "Dark and Bloody Ground," who died facing each other, one wearing the blue, the other the gray, and on its sides are inscribed: "As we are united in life, and they in death, let one monument perpetuate their deeds, and one people, forgetful of all aspirations, forever hold in grateful remembrance all the glories of that terrible conflict, which made all men free and retaining every star in the Nation's flag."

The great conflict was unavoidable; under the conditions, it was irresistable. It was but the accomplishment, by human agencies, the will of the Divine. Its causes were like paths running on converging lines, that eventually must meet and cross at the angle, notwithstanding their distances apart or length. From the foundation [543] of the government these two converging lines commenced. Two conflicting civilizations came into existence with the establishment of the American Union—the one founded on the sovereignty of the States and the continuance of slavery was espoused by the hot-blooded citizens of the South; the other, upon the literal construction of the Declaration of Independence, that "all men are created free and equal," and the supremacy of the general government over States Rights, and this was the slogan of the cool, calculating, but equally brave people of the North. The converging lines commenced in antagonism and increased in bitterness as they neared the vertex. The vertex was 1861. At this point it was too late to make concessions. There was no room for conciliation or compromise, then the only recourse left is what all brave people accepts—the arbitrament of the sword.

The South sought her just rights by a withdrawal from the "Unholy Alliance." The North sought to sustain the supremacy and integrity of the Union by coercing the "Erring Sisters" with force of arms. The South met force with force, and as a natural sequence, she staked her all. The North grew more embittered as the combat of battles rolled along the border and the tread of a million soldiers shook the two nations to their centers. First, it was determined that the Union should be preserved, even at the expense of the South's cherished institution; then, as the contest grew fiercer and more unequaled, that the institution itself should die with the re-establishment of the Union. Both played for big stakes—one for her billions of slave property, the other for the forty or more stars in her constellation. Both put forward her mightiest men of war. Legions were mustered, marshalled, and thrown in the field, with an earnestness and rapidity never before witnessed in the annals of warfare. Each chose her best Captains to lead her armies to battle, upon the issue of which depended the fate of two nations. The Southern legions were led by the Lees, Johnstons, Beauregards, Jacksons, Stuarts, Longstreets, and other great Lieutenants; the North were equally fortunate in her Grants, Shermans, Thomases, Sheridans, and Meads. In courage, ability, and military sagacity, neither had just grounds to claim superiority over the other. In the endurance of troops, heroism, and unselfish devotion to their country's cause, the North and South each found [544] foemen worthy of their steel. Both claimed justice and the Almighty on their side. Battles were fought, that in the magnitude of the slaughter, in proportion to the troops engaged, has never been equalled since the days of recorded history; Generalship displayed that compared favorably with that of the "Madman of the North," the Great Frederick, or even to that of the military prodigy of all time—Napoleon himself. The result of the struggle is but another truth of the maxim of the latter, that "The Almighty is on the side of the greatest cannon."

I close my labors with an extract from a speech of one of the Southern Governors at Chickamauga at the dedication of a monument to the dead heroes from the State.

"A famous poem represents an imaginary midnight review of Napoleon's Army. The skeleton of a drummer boy arises from the grave, and with his bony fingers beats a long, loud reveille. At the sound the legions of the dead Emperor come from their graves from every quarter where they fell. From Paris, from Toulon, from Rivoli, from Lodi, from Hohenlinden, from Wagram, from Austerlitz, from the cloud clapped summit of the Alps, from the shadows of the Pyramids, from the snows of Moscow, from Waterloo, they gather in one vast array with Ney, McDonald, Masenna, Duroc, Kleber, Murat, Soult, and other marshals in command. Forming, they silently pass in melancholy procession before the Emperor, and are dispersed with 'France' as the pass word and 'St. Helena' as the challenge.

"Imagine the resurrection of the two great armies of the Civil War. We see them arising from Gettysburg, from the Wilderness, from Shiloh, from Missionary Ridge, from Stone River, from Chickamauga—yea, from a hundred fields—and passing with their great commanders in review before the martyred President. In their faces there is no disappointment, no sorrow, no anguish, but they beam with light and hope and joy. With them there is no 'St. Helena,' no 'Exile,' and they are dispersed with 'Union' as a challenge and 'Reconciliation' as a pass word."