General Anderson’s first visit was to General R. E. Lee, who was at dinner, and insisted on our dining with him. It was the most uncomfortable meal that I ever had in my life. General Lee was fond of quizzing young officers, and my frame of mind can be imagined when General Lee spoke to me in this way: “Mr. Dawson, will you take some of this bacon? I fear that it is not very good, but I trust that you will excuse that. John! give Mr. Dawson some water; I pray pardon me for giving you this cup. Our table service is not as complete as it should be. May I give you some bread? I fear it is not well baked, but I hope you will not mind that,” &c., &c., &c.; while my cheeks were red and my ears were tingling, and I wished myself anywhere else than at General Lee’s head-quarters.
On September 28th, General Anderson was ordered to move to the North side of the James River and assume command there. Early the next morning he and his staff and couriers set out for Chaffin’s Bluff. We had ridden some miles when a courier came up in a condition of desperate excitement, and told us that the enemy in great force had attacked the works on the North side of the river, near Chaffin’s Bluff, had captured Battery Harrison, and were probably by this time in Richmond. Sending him on to General Lee’s head-quarters, we put spurs to our horses and rode at a gallop to the river, where we crossed the pontoon bridge and found the condition of affairs almost as bad as had been described. Nothing but want of dash on the part of the enemy had prevented them from taking Richmond. The lines had been held by four or five hundredmen of our command, with a small number of the Home Guard from Richmond, and when the enemy had taken Battery Harrison the roads were open to them and they had nothing to do but march right into the Confederate Capital. Fortunately for us, they believed us to be much stronger than we were and waited for reinforcements. Only one hundred and fifty men occupied Battery Harrison when it was attacked. In the afternoon Laws’ Brigade came to our assistance, and with Gregg and Benning repulsed a desperate attack made by the enemy on Battery Gilmer. Here we saw that colored troops could be made to fight for one dash at all events. They came right up to the fort very resolutely, but, encountering an obstinate resistance, they gave way completely and took refuge in the ditch, where they were easily disposed of. It was just the sort of fight that any one would like. Shells with the fuses cut to a half second were thrown into the ditch and played havoc with the terror-stricken negroes.
The next morning, September 30th, General Lee having obtained reinforcements, an effort was made to retake Battery Harrison. The attack was not well arranged apparently, and failed completely. A new defensive line was therefore taken up and fortified, and the enemy were left to make the most of their barren conquest.
There was no fighting of much importance after this until October 7th, when we made an attempt to turn the enemy’s right and drive him back to the river. At first the movement was completely successful and we captured nine pieces of artillery and some prisoners, but when we struck the enemy in position near the New Market Road we were repulsed and General Gregg was killed. It was on this day, unless I am mistaken, that, in a cavalry charge, Colonel A.C. Haskell, of the Seventh S. C. Cavalry, was desperately wounded, and for a time in the hands of the enemy. Volunteers were called for to make a charge and recover the body, and one of these volunteers was C. S. McCall, of Bennettsville, who is now State Senator from Marlboro’ County, in this State, and as gallant a soldier and as good a fellow as we had in the army. There was a touching incident this day when Gregg’s Brigade had been repulsed and Gregg had fallen mortally wounded. General Lee, with General Anderson and a number of officers, was watching the attack, when a boy apparently about eighteen or nineteen years old, his uniform dabbled with blood and his arms hanging limp by his sides, came up to General Lee, and nodding to him said: “General! if you don’t send some more men down there, our boys will get hurt sure.” General Lee asked him if he was wounded. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “Where are you wounded?” asked General Lee. “I am shot through both arms, General; but I don’t mind that General! I want you to send some more men down there to help our boys.” General Lee told him that he would attend to it, and directed one of his staff officers to take charge of this poor boy and see that he was properly cared for.
In a letter which I wrote to England about this time, I gave the price of different articles in Confederate money: a pair of cavalry boots $350; coffee $15 a pound; sugar $10 a pound; a linen collar $5; a pocket handkerchief $10; Richmond papers 50 cents each; tobacco, which two years before was 25 and 30 cents a pound, was selling at $8 or $9 a pound. For the making of a pair of trowsers I paid $100.
A sudden and very welcome change in my position now took place. I cannot say that my connection with General Longstreet had been pleasant to me personally, for the reason that he was disposed to be reserved himself, while the principal members of his staff, with two exceptions, were positively disagreeable. Colonel Sorrell, the Adjutant-General, was bad tempered and inclined to be overbearing. Colonel Fairfax was clownish and silly, and Major Walton, whom I have mentioned before, was always supercilious. Colonel Osman Latrobe was courteous enough at all times, and Colonel Manning was exceedingly kind and considerate. Besides Colonel Manning, I had not a friend on the staff. The staff had “no use” for me, which was perhaps not surprising, as I was a stranger and a foreigner, and I was on no better terms with them in 1864 than I had been in 1862. Still I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had a good reputation in the army as an officer, and that it was known at General Lee’s head-quarters that the whole responsibility in the Ordnance Department of the corps rested upon me. General Anderson had been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant-General, and was to take command of a corps at Petersburg when General Longstreet should return to duty, and he was kind enough to tell me that if Colonel Baldwin, the Chief of Ordnance of the army, would consent to the transfer, he would take me with him to Petersburg, and make me Chief Ordnance Officer of his corps. This would have given me the rank of Major or Lieutenant-Colonel. I rode over to Petersburg to see Colonel Baldwin, and he told me that he would be delighted to see me promoted, andwould order the assignment to be made. Unfortunately, though properly, General Anderson, upon reflection, came to the conclusion that it would not be just to Captain E. N. Thurston, who had been his Ordnance Officer while he was in command of a division, to promote me over his head, and that he ought to make Captain Thurston his Chief Ordnance Officer. I assented, of course, but was determined to seize any opportunity that offered to leave Longstreet’s Corps. As far back, indeed, as the month of June I had made a written application to be relieved from duty with the command. The opportunity came when I least expected it. General Fitzhugh Lee, a nephew of General R. E. Lee, while in the command of the cavalry in the Valley of Virginia had lost his Ordnance Officer, Captain Isaac Walke, of Norfolk, Virginia, who was killed in action, to the deep regret of his comrades. Through some kind friend General Lee heard of me. It seems that he had told Colonel Baldwin and others that he wanted an officer to take Captain Walke’s place, who was both “a good officer and a gentleman.” To my great pleasure I was recommended to him. He made application for me, and I was relieved from duty with Longstreet’s Corps and directed to report to General Fitz Lee at Richmond. This was in November, 1864.
General Longstreet had already resumed command of the 1st Corps, and I have not seen him since I took leave of him before I went to join Fitz Lee. The reputation that Longstreet had as a fighting man was unquestionably deserved, and when in action there was no lack of energy or of quickness of perception, but he was somewhat sluggish by nature, and I saw nothing in him at any time to make me believe that his capacity went beyond the power to conduct a square hard fight. The power of combination he did not possess,and whenever he had an independent command he was unsuccessful. A better officer to execute a prescribed movement, and make such variations in it as the exigencies of the battle required, would be hard to find, but he needed always a superior mind to plan the campaign and fix the order of battle. It should be said of Longstreet, especially in view of his political course since the war, that he never faltered or hesitated in his devotion to the Confederate cause. A stauncher soldier the South did not have, and at Appomattox, when hope was gone, and General Lee, to prevent the useless loss of blood, was prepared to surrender, Longstreet pleaded for permission to take the remnant of his men and endeavor to cut his way through the surrounding enemy. But Longstreet was a soldier, and nothing else. Of the principles that underlay secession he knew nothing, and when we were defeated, and the war was over, he considered that might had made the North right, and that he could, without any impropriety, go over to the victors. The whirligig of time brought its revenges, however, when Longstreet, at the head of the Metropolitan Police in New Orleans, endeavoring to maintain, by armed force, the political supremacy of the “carpet-baggers,” was confronted and routed by the old soldiers of his corps, whom he had again and again led to victory in Virginia. They spared him in remembrance of what he had been, but they drove his Metropolitan Police like rabbits before them.
I have come across a note written by Mr. Frank Vizetelly, of theIllustrated London News, in 1864, in response to enquiries of one of my relatives in London, where Mr. Vizetelly then was. I give what he says, as the testimony of one who knew me while I was with Longstreet. The note is as follows: “Will you tell your friend that I knewLieutenant Dawson very well indeed. He is Ordnance Officer to General Longstreet, and when I left the Confederacy, at the end of January, he was quite well. He is very much liked, and is a very good officer, and, I have no doubt, will make his way.” I should like to quote here also what was said by the RichmondExaminer, in 1863, about the Englishmen then in the Confederacy:
ENGLISHMEN IN OUR SERVICE.Wherever and whenever a war for freedom is given, there Englishmen will be found, not for glory only, but for the natural bull-dog love of fighting and the inborn British love of the just cause and the weak side. Thus we find on the side of Yankee tyranny but one Englishman, Sir Percy Wyndham, who has lately quitted the Lincolnites in disgust; while on our side we find Colonel Grenfell still firm in his affection for the Stars and Bars; Captain Byrne, who lost a leg at Manassas, and insists upon fighting through the war; Captain Gordon of A. P. Hill’s staff, who acted so gallantly at Fredericksburg; and many others, in both our Army and Navy. Among these “others” the name of Lieutenant Dawson deserves mention. Lieutenant D., a youth of eighteen or nineteen, insisted on coming over in theNashville. Captain Pegram’s sense of duty would not permit him to receive him as a passenger, so he shipped before the mast as a common sailor, and in that capacity did his duty faithfully and manfully. Arrived in this city, he at once joined the Purcell Battery as a private, and was wounded in one of the battles on the Chickahominy. As soon as his wound was well, General Randolph very justly promoted him to a Lieutenancy, which post he continues to fill with distinction and credit to the service. We bid him and the rest of his Anglo-Confederate comrades God speed, good luck, and plenty of promotion, for they are sure to deserve it. And if they are disposed to settle down in Dixie, we have no objection to their forming an alliance with some of our pretty Southern girls.
ENGLISHMEN IN OUR SERVICE.
Wherever and whenever a war for freedom is given, there Englishmen will be found, not for glory only, but for the natural bull-dog love of fighting and the inborn British love of the just cause and the weak side. Thus we find on the side of Yankee tyranny but one Englishman, Sir Percy Wyndham, who has lately quitted the Lincolnites in disgust; while on our side we find Colonel Grenfell still firm in his affection for the Stars and Bars; Captain Byrne, who lost a leg at Manassas, and insists upon fighting through the war; Captain Gordon of A. P. Hill’s staff, who acted so gallantly at Fredericksburg; and many others, in both our Army and Navy. Among these “others” the name of Lieutenant Dawson deserves mention. Lieutenant D., a youth of eighteen or nineteen, insisted on coming over in theNashville. Captain Pegram’s sense of duty would not permit him to receive him as a passenger, so he shipped before the mast as a common sailor, and in that capacity did his duty faithfully and manfully. Arrived in this city, he at once joined the Purcell Battery as a private, and was wounded in one of the battles on the Chickahominy. As soon as his wound was well, General Randolph very justly promoted him to a Lieutenancy, which post he continues to fill with distinction and credit to the service. We bid him and the rest of his Anglo-Confederate comrades God speed, good luck, and plenty of promotion, for they are sure to deserve it. And if they are disposed to settle down in Dixie, we have no objection to their forming an alliance with some of our pretty Southern girls.
It was on November 10, 1864, that General Fitz Lee applied for me, and in a letter written to my mother at the time I said that General Longstreet was very reluctant to give me up. I must say that he did not show any particular interest in retaining me as long as no one else wanted me. General Fitz Lee was in Richmond, having been wounded in the Valley. I reported to him, and was then directed to go to Harrisonburg, Va., and report to General T. L. Rosser, who was then in command of General Lee’s Division. I found that the head-quarters were near Harrisonburg, and was made most cordially welcome there. Lieutenant Charles Minnigerode, son of Dr. Minnigerode, of Richmond, was aide-de-camp to General Lee, and he and I took a great fancy to each other immediately. The other officers of the staff were Major Robert M. Mason, Chief Quarter-master and acting Inspector-General of the Division; Major W. B. Warwick, of Richmond, Chief Commissary; Dr. Archie Randolph, Medical Director. Major J. Du Gué Ferguson, of Charleston, the Adjutant-General of the Division, had been taken prisoner, and was not with the command. Major Bowie, the Inspector-General, had been wounded at Spotsylvania, and did not rejoin the division. A better set of fellows than Fitz Lee’s staff it would have been difficult to find. They formed in truth, according to the old phrase, the military family of General Lee. There was no bickering, no jealousy, no antagonism. We lived together as though we were near relatives, and I have the fondest and truest affection for every one of them. Major Mason is a first cousin of General Fitz Lee, and I have not seen himfor several years. Archie Randolph I have not heard of since the war ended. Minnigerode was the last man wounded in the Army of Northern Virginia. He was struck near the spine by a rifle ball while riding along the lines to give the order to cease firing, when the last flag of truce had been displayed at Appomattox. For many months he was paralyzed, but he has now entirely recovered, and when I last heard of him he was living in New Orleans.
I found that it was no joke to organize the Ordnance Department of a couple of divisions of Confederate cavalry, but I adapted myself to circumstances, and, having some good assistants, was able to get everything in tolerably good order. We then set out on a raid into Hardy County, West Virginia, for the purpose of capturing horses and cattle. The command, under the leadership of General Rosser, had made a week or two before a very successful raid upon New Creek, on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. They had captured the place and brought off a vast quantity of stores of different descriptions. The present raid was not so eventful. I had not known what cold was before this. The snow lay on the ground a foot deep, and the wind was so keen and bitter that it was difficult to face it. For miles the road lay on a narrow ledge, the mountain rising like a wall on the right, while on the left there was a nearly perpendicular fall of six hundred feet to the Valley below, where a brook, held in icy chains, was shining in the sun. One slip would have sent horse and rider headlong to the bottom of the precipice. Through such scenes as this we rode for a week without any serious accident. Right in the midst of the mountains we came upon the charming residence of Mr. Cunningham, who was living in a manner that seemed entirely out of keeping with the wildernessaround him. In his house there was every comfort, with many a luxury that in the Confederacy we had almost forgotten. Miss Annie Cunningham was one of the prettiest women I have ever seen, and became at once the centre of attraction with our young officers. With sleighing parties during the day and singing and dancing at night, our short stay in Hardy County was inexpressibly pleasant. After we left them, as the spokesman of the enamored staff, and not speaking in any sense for myself, I wrote a passionate epistle to Miss Annie, which was entrusted to one of our scouts for delivery. In it I put all the pretty phrases which were suggested by the occasion and the object. Unluckily for me, the note did not reach the fair Annie, but fell into the hands of the Yankees, and was published afterwards in one of the Baltimore papers as a specimen Confederate love letter.
There was a good deal of talk at head-quarters about Captain Charles Cavendish, who reported to General Fitz Lee for duty at, or about, the time that General J. E. B. Stuart was killed, at Yellow Tavern, and who was now absent on leave. Cavendish represented himself to be a cousin of the Duke of Devonshire, and said he held a commission in the 18th Hussars. I knew him quite well later on, and it is indubitable that he was a thorough soldier. General Fitz Lee told me that just when Cavendish reported to him the enemy were attacking in force, and one of our regiments was ordered to charge. Cavendish was well mounted and handsomely equipped, and asked General Lee’s permission to go in with the regiment. This permission was at once given, and Cavendish rode off. Ten minutes later he returned with his saddle on his head, saying that “a blasted Yankee had fired at him from behind atree and killed his horse.” This was a fact. Cavendish, however, shot the Yankee. There was some things about Cavendish that our fellows could not understand. Riding through the woods one day, he tore the leg of his trousers, and a bare red leg was plainly visible. Minnigerode expressed his surprise at the sight, when Cavendish bluntly informed him that in England gentlemen never wore drawers. The matter was referred to me for decision, and I was unable to confirm what Cavendish had said. It is the fact, however, I think, that the privates and non-commissioned officers in the crack cavalry regiments in England wear nothing but the trousers, in order to secure a closer and better fit. Cavendish remained with us for some time, and in Richmond led a very wild life. As usual in such cases, he became short of money, and his drafts on his noble relatives in England were freely discounted. Cavendish went away, and the drafts came back dishonored. Inquiries were then made about him in England, and it was ascertained that he was most inappropriately named Short, and that he had been a corporal or sergeant in one of the English cavalry regiments. Cavendish was punctilious, however, in the discharge of his duties at our head-quarters, and paid his mess bills as promptly as any one else.
After our return from Hardy County, bringing with us a large drove of cattle, we established our head-quarters at a railroad station, eight or ten miles beyond Staunton. General Early was down the Valley, in the neighborhood of Harrisonburg, and a large body of the enemy’s cavalry moved up to attack him. They expected to make a raid on Gordonsville, if they did not encounter Early. On the Monday before Christmas day, 1864, we moved out from camp with our division, and marched to Harrisonburg. It was desperately cold, and the sleet froze as it fell. My hat by the evening was as stiff as a board, and had a heavy fringe of icicles. The horses were slipping and sliding at every step, and the thirty miles seemed like fifty. We rested for a few hours at Harrisonburg, and General Rosser ascertained where the enemy’s cavalry, under Custer, were to encamp for the night. At one o’clock in the morning we moved out again, the plan being to go by devious paths to the neighborhood of Custer’s camp, and there attack him at daybreak. Our whole effective force did not exceed five or six hundred men. The march was conducted with great judgment, and a little before daybreak, with no alarm given, the division formed in the woods on the edge of the open fields where, surrounded by blazing fires of fence rails, Custer’s troopers lay. The rattling of the sleet and the howling of the wind had effectually concealed our movements; but the men were almost stiff with cold, and it was hard to see how they would manage to handle their carbines or sabres. Just before daybreak the order to charge was given. I was with General Rosser at the head of the column, and I shall never forget theastonishment of the Yankee sentinel, who, as our horses came upon him like ghosts from the bosom of the darkness, fired his carbine in the air, and cried out: “My God, where do all those men come from!” It was a complete surprise, and in ten minutes, and with very small loss to ourselves, we had driven Custer and his entire command, consisting of about 2,000 men, out of their camp, and sent them whirling down the Valley. I was slightly wounded in the left leg, but not disabled from duty. Custer was in a farm house near by, and the story goes that, when he made his escape, he was in the condition that Cavendish would have been in, if he had lost his trousers entirely.
After the first dash, which, happily for us, accomplished what was desired, our men were very hard to hold. Had Custer attacked us, I do not think that we should have stopped short of Staunton. Expecting a counter charge, I tried, with General William H. Payne, (“Billy” Payne of the Black Horse Cavalry) to rally some of our men on the colors; but when I had gathered a dozen or two together, and started after some more, the first squad melted away into the woods. By common consent, the whole command withdrew. Custer had gone off one way, and our people had gone off quietly in the opposite direction. No one remained but General Rosser, Minnigerode, Mason, Archie Randolph and I. General Rosser suggested that we might as well go on after Custer, and see what he was doing, and we moved down the Turnpike, following Custer’s rear-guard at a respectful distance.
Three or four hundred yards away, on our right, coming along a converging road, was a body of thirty or forty men. They had their oil-cloths on, and it was difficult to tell who they were; but I had an unpleasant conviction that theywere Yankees. We were approaching fast the forks of the road where we should meet them, and I ventured to suggest to General Rosser that they were not our men, but he insisted that they were not Yankees, and that, anyhow, we had better go on and see. So we went on. We were not more than a hundred yards away when the strangers halted, and were evidently preparing to fire. The imperturbable Rosser remarked very serenely: “Well, Dawson, you are right, those fellows are Yankees, but there are not many of them. Let’s charge them.” And we four did charge them; and, to our amazement and relief, the Yankees put spurs to their horses and galloped off down the Valley. As often happens in war, audacity had saved us. Nothing would have been easier than for those Yankees to have gathered us in, for we were half frozen, and our horses were worn out with hard riding.
We rode back to Harrisonburg, and having accomplished what was desired, and given General Early time to withdraw his wounded and stores, we retired to Staunton. There we were soon joined by General Fitz Lee.
Staunton is a hospitable place, and few days passed without an invitation to a dinner or a dancing party. I realized completely the delightful difference between my position with Longstreet, and my position with General Lee. By General Lee we were treated always as if we were his kinsmen, but, intimate and affectionate as our intercourse was, no one of us could ever forget the respect due to his rank. What we did for him, however, was just as much for love as it was for military duty.
From Staunton, we now moved to Waynesboro’, where there was much merry-making, and Minnigerode fell in love again, and secured a provisional sweetheart. Soon wewere hurried to Richmond to head off a raiding party of the enemy.
One way and another I saw a good deal of General Rosser, and to my mind, there were few officers in the service who had as much military genius as he had. Instinctively, he seemed to know what was best to do, and how to do it. It appeared almost impossible to tire him, or to break him down, and I have known him to ride day after day for a couple of weeks with a running wound in his leg. Had he had the unlimited command of horses and material that the cavalry Generals on the other side had, we should have known little peace in the Confederacy. Unfortunately, however, there was something lacking in Rosser’s character, which I can best express, perhaps, by repeating a warning which was given me soon after I joined the command. It was this: One of my fellow officers said to me, “If Rosser gives you any order to deliver for the movements of troops in action, be careful to get that order in writing, and then, if anything goes wrong in consequence of the order, it cannot be said that the fault is yours.”
We camped below Richmond, and I obtained leave of absence to go to Boydton for a few days, and from Boydton I crossed over into North Carolina to make a visit to a friend who was staying there. The Roanoke River was so high that the ferryman was unwilling to cross; but by the payment of $250 in Confederate money I succeeded in inducing him to take me over. It was a foolish performance, as the chances were ten to one that we should not be able to make a landing on the other side. From North Carolina I then went to Stony Creek, where I was told that our division was. This little railroad station, which had looked when I first saw it, in 1862, as if it were not visited by ten persons in a month, was now a busy military post, several thousand Confederates being encamped around it. Finding that I had been misinformed, I hurried by a circuitous route to Richmond, the enemy having possession of the railroad between Stony Creek and Petersburg. I reported for duty just as the division was on the march from Richmond. Through Powhatan County we rode, and, as ours was the first large body of troops that had passed through that happy place, the scenes of the early months of the war were repeated, to the satisfaction and surprise of our men. Ladies came out to the roadside with cakes and sandwiches and milk, and our people enjoyed themselves thoroughly. It is true that there were rather more of us than even the hospitable people of Powhatan could accommodate. The ladies there were very much in the plight of a good woman to whose house I went in the first Maryland campaign. I rode up to ask for a glass of water, and, before I had saidwhat I wanted, was told that I really could not get breakfast, as there was nothing left in the house. The kind soul told me that she had made up her mind, when she heard that General Lee’s army was coming, to give every one of his soldiers something to eat, and, when she had stripped the smoke-house bare, and used up every dust of meal, she was warned that only one division of the army had gone by. Then she gave up her generous purpose in something very much like despair.
This time we did not strike the enemy, as expected, and returned to Richmond, stopping for a day in Powhatan, at the house of Mr. Harris, the brother of Major Harris, who was Beauregard’s Engineer Officer at Charleston, and who planned the more important defences around that City. From Richmond we rode to Petersburg, and General Fitz Lee was placed in command of the cavalry corps of the Army of Northern Virginia, consisting of three divisions.
The end was now very near. On March 30th, 1865, we dined at Mrs. Cameron’s, in Petersburg, and rode out late in the evening to overtake the command, which had gone towards Five Forks. The greater part of the night we were in the saddle, and what rest I had was on a couple of fence rails in a corn field. It was raining heavily. Early in the morning of March 31, our line was formed at Five Forks, as it is called, a place where five roads meet. A blacksmith’s shop that was there furnished, when pulled down, excellent material for a breast-work. One of our servants came up and made some coffee for us, and those who know how hot poor coffee, in a tin cup, can be, will understand what our feelings were when the cavalry of the enemy drove in our pickets just as we were about to enjoy the refreshing draught. We did not wait for the cavalry, and we took our coffee with us. Later in the morning the enemy, supported by infantry, attacked us in force. Our men were fighting dismounted, and at first were driven back in some confusion. General Payne was severely wounded, and I had just time to shake hands with him as he was taken to the rear. I did not see him again until the next year, when he was living quietly at his own home, at Warrenton. It was very difficult to rally the men. For the moment they were completely demoralized. One fellow whom I halted as he was running to the rear, and whom I threatened to shoot if he did not stop, looked up in my face in the most astonished manner, and, raising his carbine at an angle of forty-five degrees, fired it in the air, or at the tops of the pines, and resumed his flight. It made me laugh, angry as I was.There was only one thing to do, and that was to order a charge all along the line. The bugles sounded, and the very men whom it had been impossible to stop a few minutes before turned and attacked the enemy with an impetuosity that bore everything before it. The difficulty was, indeed, to keep the men from going too far. Their blood was up; they were mortified that they should have been thrown into confusion; and there was much trouble in preventing them from running right in upon the main body of the enemy.
There was a pause now in the operations, and General Pickett had joined us with his division of infantry. My dear old friend, Willie Pegram, who was by this time Colonel of artillery, was there with a part of his battalion. It was a great happiness to me to clasp his true hand again. The next day he was slain—dying, as he had hoped and prayed that he might, when the last hope of the Confederacy was gone. This pure, sweet, brave man, a type of the unaffected Christian soldier, remained on his horse when the Federal infantry poured in over our works, and fell to the ground mortally wounded, at the very end of the fight. To Gordon McCabe, his Adjutant, who was with him then, he spoke his last words: “I have done what I could for my country, and now I turn to my God.”
Towards evening a desperate charge was made by W. H. F. Lee’s Division, in which we lost heavily. The movement was taken up by the divisions in the centre and on the left, and we broke the enemy’s infantry and scattered them like chaff before us. I flattered myself that my usual good luck would attend me, for, as I rode abreast of the line and bowed my head in passing under a tree, the bough which I had stooped to escape was struck sharply by a rifle ball.But only two or three minutes afterward I was shot squarely in the arm, near the shoulder, and puthors de combat. Archie Randolph was by me in a minute, and poured an indefinite quantity of apple brandy down my throat. This revived me, and, with my arm in a sling, I rode back to where General Fitz Lee was, only to be ordered peremptorily, for my pains, to return instantly to head-quarters. Keith Armistead, the son of General Armistead who was killed at Gettysburg, was one of our couriers, and he went back with me. That night an ineffectual effort was made by our surgeons to find the ball, which was supposed to be near the shoulder. General Lee insisted that I should go back to Petersburg or Richmond, as I preferred. Soon after daybreak I was told that the enemy had broken our lines at Petersburg, and I could not return to that place; so I went to Richmond, where I arrived on Sunday night, April 2.
Major Warwick had begged that I would go to the house of his father, Major Abram Warwick, and I had the satisfaction of letting him know that his son was safe. Under the influence of morphine I went to sleep, notwithstanding the pain of my wound; and when I awoke in the morning Richmond had been evacuated by the Confederates, and the enemy were in possession of the city. The Warwicks had known when I arrived that our troops were about to leave Richmond, but had refrained from telling me, as they deemed it unsafe to have me moved in the condition in which I was. It was a sad, sad time. Mrs. W. B. Warwick walked up and down the long halls almost demented with grief; and there were other troubles besides those that grew out of the hazardous condition of the soldiers who had retreated with Lee. Two days before, Mr. Abram Warwick was oneof the wealthiest men in Richmond, and had almost unlimited means at his command. This Monday morning the great Gallego Mills, of which he was the principal owner, lay in ashes, and he himself was without a dollar of money that would pass current in the city. So it was on every side. Hundreds of families were reduced to absolute beggary by the fire which swept over Richmond. I cannot bear to dwell upon the harrowing scenes of those days. The surgeons made another effort to extract the ball from my shoulder, and came to the wise conclusion that less harm probably would be done by letting it alone than by cutting and carving me in the effort to get it out. So they let me alone, and that ball has never troubled me since.
A week after I reached Richmond I felt strong enough to join the army again, although, of course, I could not use my arm; and Miss Agnes Lee, one of General R. E. Lee’s daughters, had arranged that I should be smuggled out of the city, under a bale of hay, in one of the market carts that came into the city with vegetables every morning. Then came the harrowing tidings that General Lee had surrendered. It seemed to us impossible that the Army of Northern Virginia should be no more, and we scouted the first reports that reached us. All too soon, however, General Lee came back to Richmond, and there was no longer room for doubt. The first returning officer whom I knew well was Colonel Manning, who, with the big tears rolling down his checks, as he sat gaunt and weary on his horse in Franklin Street, told me the pitiful story of the last days of the army and the circumstances of the surrender. The only consolation to me was that General Fitz Lee and my dear comrades had escaped unhurt, except Minnigerode, who was wounded and in the hands of the enemy, as mentioned previously.
There was nothing in the behaviour of the Federal troops to mitigate the unpleasantness of our situation. They did not rob, and they did not kill; but they sought opportunities to humiliate and annoy the defeated Confederates. One of their first orders was that no person should wear clothing with military buttons; and those who had no other buttons but military buttons must cover them so as to conceal their character. After this, the buttons on most of our uniforms, which were the only clothing we had, were covered with crape.
I had lost my desk containing my commissions and papers, which I had left in our head-quarters wagon; but Armistead had put my trunk in the ambulance, and I saved that. Armistead went back to the command as soon as he had placed me in Mr. Warwick’s care; and, as he was but poorly armed, I gave him my revolver, which thus was saved from falling into the hands of the enemy. My sabre, which was taken from me on the night that I was wounded, was unfortunately left at head-quarters, and was lost.
The war being virtually at an end, and there being no other way to get out of Richmond, I presented myself to the Provost Marshal and was duly paroled. Then I went over to Petersburg, my whole worldly possessions being a postage stamp and what was left of a five dollar greenback that a friend in Baltimore had sent me. The first thing I did with this greenback, by the way, was to get small change for it so as to make it look big; and the first luxuries that I bought were cigars and oranges.
I went to Petersburg on April 23d. At Petersburg I was invited to make a visit to Mr. William Cameron, and was very glad to accept. All his servants had left him, and Colonel Frank Huger, of the artillery, and I amused ourselves by preparing the table for breakfast and dinner, and were Mrs. Cameron’s chief assistants in cutting vegetables in the garden and in washing up the dishes. I must say that this last process was anything but advantageous, as we contrived between us to break a good deal of our friend’s pretty china and delicate glass. The unfortunate things had a horrible way of losing their handles and of coming to pieces, as we scrubbed them with more zeal than discretion.
Early in June, I went to Mechlenburg to see Mr. Raines, who was still living on the plantation which he had rented near the plantation of Dr. Jones; and it was then that I heard of the barbarous conduct of the Federal cavalry on their raid through that neighborhood, and which I have mentioned previously. This raid it will be remembered was made after the surrender of General Lee’s army, and when there was no shadow of military justification or excuse for it. Little was wanting to make the conduct of the soldiers utterly execrable, and Dr. Jones escaped better than most of his neighbors. By this time the health of Mrs. Jones was exceedingly feeble, and in the September following she died. Meanwhile, the seeds of consumption were developed in her younger sister, Miss Martha Raines, and she too died a few months afterwards. Consumption also carried off the only remaining sister, Miss Anna Raines, who died, I think, in 1866.
It was rather difficult for me to get back from Mechlenburg to Petersburg, a distance of about one hundred miles; but I borrowed an old horse, and, out of the remains of several old buggies and carriages that were on the place, succeeded in making up what appeared to be a rather respectable vehicle. It did hang together pretty well until I had occasion to cross a river on my route, when the action of the water caused one of the wheels to fall to pieces in the middle of the stream. With considerable difficulty, I dragged what remained of the buggy out of the river, and was fortunate enough to be able to borrow another wheel from a planter near by. The wheel that I borrowed I was to return to him when I should go back to Mechlenburg. As I never went back, the wheel, I grieve to say, was not returned; and, as I do not know the name of my kind friend, it would be vain to try to compensate him for the loss he sustained. What weighs, I think, rather more heavily than this on my conscience, is a commission entrusted to me by an old farmer, on the road, with whom I took supper one night. Finding that I expected to come back in a few days, he asked me if I would bring him a Richmond newspaper, and gave me a silver dime to pay for it. That dime he had saved during the war, and only parted with it from a desire to get some news of what was going on. No doubt he, and the friend who lent me the buggy wheel, think of me to-day as one of the gay deceivers who were abundant after the cessation of hostilities.
While still a good many miles from Petersburg, what with insufficient food and hard driving my horse broke down completely, and I dragged along the rest of the way at the rate of a mile or two an hour. Near Petersburg I stopped to dine with a planter, who, finding that I was anEnglishman, asked me how far it was from London to Windsor. I told him, and he replied that the distance could not be so great, for he remembered an anecdote of the singular experience of one of the sentries at Windsor Castle, who was accused of sleeping on his post. Denying this emphatically, the sentry told the officers that he had heard the bell of St. Paul’s, at London, strike at midnight. This was thought to be impossible; but he told them that he not only heard it, but that the bell struck thirteen instead of twelve. It was afterward ascertained that, through some derangement of the machinery of the clock, thirteen had been struck instead of twelve, and the vigilance of the sentry was established. I do not know what the origin of the anecdote was, but it was curious to meet with it in the bosom of Virginia. And this reminds me of the quaint knowledge of things in London that I found here and there in the South. Mr. L. M. Blackford, who was attached to the Military Court of Longstreet’s Corps, asked me one day as we were riding along the road, what streets I would take if I wanted to go from one part of London, which he named, to another part. I told him, and he said he thought it would be nearer to take other streets than those I had mentioned. I asked him if he had been to London. He said that he had not, but explained that his father and himself were so much attached to England, and to everything English, that they had studied the map of London, and were almost as familiar with the place, by the map, as if they had lived there. Mr. Blackford, by the way, is now the Principal of the Episcopal High School at Alexandria, Va. I have not seen him since the war, but know that he has been to Europe, and has, therefore, had an opportunity of putting his knowledge of London streets to good account.
My efforts to obtain employment in Petersburg were entirely unsuccessful, although I was not particular about the kind of work. I was on the point of getting an engagement as the driver of a dray, but a stalwart negro, at the last moment, was taken in my place. It was a sensible thing on the part of the employer of the negro, no doubt, but it was mortifying to me that a negro should be allowed to earn his bread, and a white man, who was willing to do the same work, be denied the opportunity.
In July I went over to Richmond, and with a Mr. Evans, (a relative of Mr. Tyler) began arrangements for publishing a small weekly newspaper. My work was to be local reporting and canvassing for advertisements. The type, I think, was borrowed from the RichmondWhig, and we got to the point of making up one form, consisting of the first and fourth pages of the forthcoming paper. But theWhighad done something to offend the military autocrat who was in command at Richmond, and one fine morning he sent a party of soldiers to theWhigoffice, who took possession of the whole establishment, and closed it up. Our newspaper in embryo was embargoed with the rest of the establishment, and there my first connection with American journalism came to an untimely end.
Returning to Petersburg, I walked down to Mr. Raines’ plantation, and there earned something for myself, for the first time since the war had ended. Mr. Raines had returned home, and had cut his wheat crop, which was a very fine one, and, as much to amuse us as anything else, he told his son Frank and me that, if we would take the horse-rake and glean the fields, we might have what wheat we could find. It was desperately hot work, but we succeeded in getting a considerable quantity of wheat, which Mr. Rainesthreshed out and sold for us in Petersburg. My share of the proceeds was about $10.
I spoke just now of walking down to the plantation. The distance from Petersburg was about eighteen miles, and I frequently walked it by the middle of the day, leaving Petersburg early in the morning.
One of the Ordnance Sergeants of Longstreet’s Corps, John J. Campbell, lived at Petersburg, and I stayed there with him for some time, after my visit to Mr. Cameron. Mrs. Campbell was a plain, unaffected and thoroughly good-hearted woman, and was unremitting in her kindness. Unfortunately there came to be more talking than I liked about my own affairs, and a coolness grew up which I greatly regretted. I mention Mrs. Campbell here, in order to have the satisfaction of showing that, whatever was the cause of the discontinuance of our friendly relations, I am, and always have been, most grateful for her kindness.
Mrs. Andrew White had been zealous in her efforts to secure for me some employment, and to her I was indebted for the clothes which took the place of my Confederate uniform. Through her instrumentality, in October I was engaged by Seldner & Rosenberg, of Petersburg, as book-keeper. I fear that I knew nothing, or next to nothing, about book-keeping. But my employers were not aware of that awkward fact, and I do not think that they discovered it. The pay was $40 a month, and I paid $30 a month for my board. I went to work at half-past six o’clock in the morning, and remained at work until eight o’clock at night. There was not much margin for my personal expenses, and the long hours made the occupation terribly irksome to me, but I had the promise of an advance of pay, and, with that before me, struggled on until November.
In Petersburg one day I saw a Federal officer riding my black horse, which I had sent to Mr. Raines’ to recruit during the previous winter, and which had been captured in the raid there after the cessation of hostilities. I claimed the horse at once, and the first difficulty I encountered was the fact that I was not regarded as a citizen of the United States. The officer in command at Petersburg told me that my claim would not be considered, unless I could show that I was an American citizen, or intended to become one. As a matter of fact, I had become a citizen of Virginia, by my service in the Confederate Army. But this was not sufficient for the captors of my charger, so I made no difficulty in fully renouncing before the proper officer at Petersburg my allegiance to every foreign King, Prince or potentate, and more particularly Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. This was my formal “declaration of intention” to become a citizen of the United States, and I received my naturalization papers from Judge Bryan, of the United States District Court, at Charleston, in 1867.
In spite of the greatest economy, I found that my expenses were greater than my income, and I determined to abandon book-keeping in the clothing and dry goods establishment of Seldner & Rosenberg, and try my hand at planting, with Dr. Jones. The understanding with him was that I should assist in managing the plantation under his direction, and receive a portion of the net profit, whatever that might be.
I closed up my affairs in Petersburg just as the week was drawing to an end, and decided to go to Mechlenburg on Monday morning; but I could not make up my mind to go off without running over to Richmond to bid the Tylers and other friends there good-bye. When I went into Mr. Tyler’s house, where, as ever, my reception was most hearty, Dr. C. W. Brock, Mr. Tyler’s son-in-law, asked me whether I had received a telegram he had sent me. I told him that I had not, and he then informed me, to my astonishment, that Mr. H. Rives Pollard, who had been one of the editors of theExaminerduring the war, was about to resume the publication of that paper, and wanted me to take a place on the staff, as local reporter. I was in much the same mood that I was in when I received my commission as Ordnance Officer, in 1862, and told Brock that I knew nothing about local reporting. But he insisted that it was too good an opportunity to lose, and that I must close with Pollard at once, and trust to work and luck for the rest. Pollard was quite cordial, and told me that he would give me $20 a week. This change from $40 a month to $80 a month gave me a feeling of wealth that I am sure I have never had since. It seemed to me that there were no bounds to the results that might be accomplished with so vast a sum. Pollard had issued a flaming prospectus, in which he described the different members of the staff. As I was unknown to journalistic fame I did not appear on the roll. One of the conspicuous figures, however, was Mr. B. R. Riordan, who, in the words of the prospectus, was an “experienced and accomplished young journalist, who hadbeen for a number of years one of the editors of the New OrleansDelta, and who, during the war, had been the managing editor of the CharlestonMercury.” Those were the words, or very nearly so, and I was profoundly impressed, I remember, with the journalistic grandeur of the forthcoming journalist from the South. Pollard was busily engaged in his room, and had refused to see any one, when a rather slender and exceedingly quiet looking man came in, and told me that he wanted to see Mr. Pollard. I told him that Pollard was engaged, and could not be disturbed, whereupon he told me, very composedly, that he expected that Mr. Pollard would see him, and, without more ado, passed by me and walked into Pollard’s room. This was my first introduction to Mr. B. R. Riordan.
Pollard was a queer character: not without ability, but lazy, vain and dissolute, and it was not very easy, therefore, to make theExaminerwhat he wanted it to be. Under the editorial management of Mr. John Daniel during the war, theExaminerwas known everywhere for its great ability and its caustic criticisms of the conduct of the war by Mr. Davis and his Cabinet. It was a brilliant newspaper, but disfigured by the whim of Mr. Daniel that the old English form of spelling words ending in “c” should be retained, so that in theExaminersuch words as “antic,” “critic,” and “music,” were spelled with a final k. Pollard insisted upon retaining this peculiarity. But this did not make up for the loss of the brain and vigor of Mr. Daniel. Professor Gildersleeve, of the University of Virginia, and other erudite men, were engaged as editorial writers, but they did not live in Richmond, and their work was often stale. Pollard hacked and cooked their articles to suit himself, and, when the supply of new material failed, hadno hesitation in revamping and republishing articles which had appeared in theExaminerduring the war. However, I had no reason to complain of Pollard’s treatment of me. Amongst other things, he was always exceedingly anxious to resent any affront that might be put upon him, and this weakness, if such it should be called, enabled me to make myself indispensable. I occupied the unpleasant position, as I should now consider it, of adviser and best man for Pollard in his principal rencontres.
The first of these grew out of an article in the RichmondEnquirerwhich reflected on theExaminer, and caused Pollard to determine to cowhide the editor of theEnquireras soon as he could find him. When we ran theEnquirerman to earth, he was in the hall of the House of Representatives at the Capitol, and Pollard waited for him in the rotunda. When theEnquirerman came out, Pollard attempted to strike him and was resisted. Both theEnquirerman and Pollard drew pistols, and several shots were exchanged. Only one shot, however, took effect, and it unfortunately carried away the tassel of the cane on Houdon’s statue of George Washington, which is in the centre of the rotunda. The combatants were arrested, and for a few days there was peace.
The next offender was E. P. Brooks, of the New YorkTimes. In a letter from Richmond he spoke rather abusively of Pollard, and Pollard decided to give him a beating. It was not very easy to find him at first, as neither Pollard nor I had ever seen him. After a long hunt I was told that he was in the billiard room at the Spotswood Hotel, and I succeeded in getting a good look at him. Pollard came down immediately, armed to the teeth and flourishing a big cowhide, and, when Brooks came into the lobby of the hotel,accosted him and asked whether he was the Richmond correspondent of the New YorkTimes. Brooks told him that he was, and thereupon Pollard seized him by the collar and began to thrash him soundly. Several persons attempted to interfere, but I kept them off with my pistol until the affair was at an end. Brooks had pulled a handful of hair out of Pollard’s long beard, and Pollard had jammed Brooks’ head through the glass partition in front of the desk, and had given him some hard blows besides. Pollard was not in good society in Richmond, but the Brooks affair was much enjoyed. When I told a drawing-room full of ladies about it, they clapped their hands with joy that the “miserable Yankee” should have been so well thrashed by the Southerner.
The next cloud of war was on account of Mrs. Henningsen, wife of General Henningsen, whom theExaminerhad spoken of as a “notorious” character. This was not to be a street fight, but a regular duel according to the “Code.” Pollard placed himself in my hands, and I had a mischievous pleasure in telling him that General Henningsen, who had demanded an apology for the insult offered his wife, was a crack shot, and could hit the spots on a card at fifteen paces with a duelling pistol, nine times out of ten. Pollard told me, in some little trepidation, that he did not believe he could hit a barn door at ten paces, and I warned him that it was high time that he was practicing. Pollard evidently did not hanker after a fight this time, and I succeeded in arranging the matter amicably.
A little later somebody else trod on Pollard’s toes, and he determined to “post” him. Preceded by a negro boy bearing a paste pot and brush and a number of hand bills or posters, denouncing the person to be posted as a liar,coward, and a variety of other things, Pollard marched down Main Street with a double-barrelled shotgun on his shoulder and a huge revolver and bowie-knife in a belt around his waist. There was no fight, and I am not sure that the man who was posted was in Richmond.
I have said that Pollard was a man of loose character, and he was very careless in the statements he made affecting anyone’s reputation if he could, by the publication, make a hit for his paper. Yet, strange to say, he was killed for an offence which he did not commit himself, although he was responsible for it. In 1867, the paper he was managing (theExaminerhaving died previously) published a flaming account of the elopement of a Miss Grant, of Richmond. It was written up very elaborately, and highly spiced. It was expected that trouble would come of it, but it was not supposed that Pollard would be denied the chance to defend himself. James Grant, the brother of the lady who was the subject of the article in theExaminer, ensconced himself in a room in a house which Pollard passed regularly every morning. It was near his office. As Pollard passed by the window of the room, Grant, who was hidden from sight, shot Pollard down with a double-barrelled gun. He died instantly, and without knowing who killed him. Grant was tried for murder, and was acquitted. The feeling in Richmond was very strong against Grant: not because he had killed Pollard, but because he had not confronted him like a man, and given him a chance for his life. All this was long after I left Richmond.
Mr. Riordan and I were now on very good terms. We slept in one of the rooms at theExamineroffice, in which we worked, and took our meals together at Zetelle’srestaurant. I suppose I must have made a good impression upon him, as I find the following in a letter to my mother, dated January 11, 1866: “Our news editor, a gentleman of ten or fifteen years experience in the newspaper business, says that it is impossible that a man of my talent can remain unemployed, and Pollard says he is delighted with my fluency, style and indefatigable energy. Of course, I do not place one particle of reliance in such remarks as these. They are sincere, and I am grateful for them, but these gentlemen cannot make me think so highly of myself as they seem to think of me.” About this time Mr. Riordan, the news editor just mentioned, broached to me a plan for starting a cheap and popular newspaper in Charleston, South Carolina. He said that the Charleston newspapers were very slow and old fashioned, and that there was a fine field for a new and bright paper. This he had thought for a long time, but had not taken any steps to give the project shape, because he had not found the right sort of man to go into it with him. He was pleased to say that I was just the man he was looking for, and that he was quite sure that he and I could make the paper successful. The whole of the details of the prospective newspaper were carefully discussed. It is rather amusing to recall now Riordan’s remark that the local reporting in Charleston need not give us much trouble, as the policemen would drop in and tell us about anything that happened. Another remark of his was about in these words: “Of course you know, Dawson, you could not do the editorial writing, but we could engage a man to do that for us.” Riordan, like myself, had no money, but thought that he had friends who would lend us some; and this was the position of affairs when my connection with theExaminerwas suddenly suspended.
The Federal officers in Richmond gave several public dancing parties, or “Hops” as they were called, at the different hotels, and desired that the Richmond ladies should attend them. There was, of course, too much feeling against the North at this time to permit anything of the sort, and the only Richmond women who attended these “Hops” were the wives and daughters of the present and prospective office holders under the United States Government. The newspapers were not invited to send reporters to the “Hops,” but theExaminermanaged always to have a man there, and gave a highly colored report of them the morning after the occurrence, describing and naming the Richmond people who were there, and dressing up the whole account in a style of mingled bitterness and ridicule. J. Marshall Hanna, the principal local reporter for theExaminer, did most of the work on these reports, and it was he, by the way, who described the elopement of Miss Grant which had so tragical consequences. The Federal officers were indignant at the way in which their efforts at reconciliation were treated by theExaminer, but another “Hop” was announced. This was in March, 1866. We prepared ourselves for a report that should out-Herod Herod. Hanna, Mr. Fred. Daniel, and I were engaged on it, and we called into requisition every apt quotation we could find in French and Italian, as well as in English. The report being finished, I went to a ball to which I had been invited, and did not return to the office until near daylight. At the office door I found a sentry, who halted me and refused to allow me to pass into the building. To my astonishment I then learned that theFederal Commandant at Richmond had taken possession of theExamineroffice, and had suspended its publication, on account of the malignant and disloyal reports of the famous Yankee “Hops.” It was with great difficulty that I induced the guard to allow me to go up to my room for more suitable attire. Riordan told me that he was at his desk working quietly on his exchanges, when he heard a dull tramp, tramp in the street, and then tramp, tramp on the stairs, and then tramp, tramp in the outer room, and the command “halt!” and the rattle of muskets on the floor. By this time he began to think that something unusual was happening, and was sure of it when an officer entered the room and told him that he had orders to seize the whole establishment, and that he and everyone else connected with the paper must leave the place at once. This arbitrary and lawless proceeding did not shock me as much as it ought to have done, inasmuch as it held out the promise of a holiday, which I knew I could pass delightfully with my fair friends in Richmond; but the very day that theExaminerwas shut up the proprietors of the RichmondDispatchsent for me, and offered me a salary of $25 a week if I would go on the staff of that paper. Mr. Pollard made no objection, and I went to work at once on theDispatch. TheExaminerremained in possession of the military authorities for about two weeks I think, and was only released when a peremptory order to that end was given by the President himself.
On theDispatchI was legislative and local reporter, and was handsomely treated. One of my colleagues was Captain J. Innes Randolph, who had played that ’possum trick on me at Bunker Hill, on the retreat from Gettysburg. Randolph was a man of many accomplishments. He playedthe piano and violin charmingly, was a skillful engineer, a very capable lawyer, and wrote charmingly in both prose and verse. “The Good Old Rebel” is one of his productions, and his lines on the statue of Marshall, which now stands in the Capitol Square, are worth remembering. Randolph is the son of Lieutenant Randolph of the Navy, who tweaked President Jackson’s nose, and has something of his father’s temper. A more cranky and irritable fellow is rarely met with. He lives in Baltimore, and is now on the staff of theAmerican. I have not seen him for several years.
It was in the spring of 1866 that I was instrumental in forming what I believe to have been the first of the Confederate Memorial Associations in the Southern States. This is the Hollywood Memorial Association, of Richmond. In Hollywood Cemetery are interred fifteen thousand or sixteen thousand Confederate soldiers, and in Oakwood Cemetery are as many more. Their graves were entirely uncared for, and I began in theDispatchto agitate the subject, with a view to forming an association which should undertake to keep the graves in order, mark them suitably, and erect a monument to our dead. The earliest fruit of it was a suspension of business on the first Memorial day, when hundreds of young men who had belonged to different military organizations went out to Hollywood, accompanied by ladies bearing flowers, and labored for several hours with spade and hoe in rearranging the mounds over the graves, and clearing away the rank growth of weeds. The ladies of the Hollywood Association were most enthusiastic, and I acted as their Secretary. Public meetings were held in the Churches in furtherance of the objects of the Association, and in June I addressed three meetings of ladies on one day, at different places. One of these meetings was at the Monumental Church, and about five hundred ladies were present. There were two different plans. One was to level the graves and erect a general monument; and the other was to mark each one of the graves with a headstone bearing either the name of the soldier who lay there, or a number by which, on reference to the books of the Cemetery, the name of the soldier could be known. I pleaded for theplan that would keep each grave separate and distinct, and would allow any father or mother, or sister or brother, from the far South to know the identical spot where the bones of their dear one lay, rather than that they should be shown a vast open area and be told that somewhere within those bounds their young hero lay buried. I was modest in those days, and, when one of the ladies at the close of the meeting told me that she wanted to kiss me for my speech, I blushed and declined. As long as I was in Richmond I continued to work actively for the Memorial Association, and, when I left Richmond to come to Charleston, I received from the President a letter, of which the following is a copy: