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to make inquiry. I had not far to
go. In a ditch not more than two hundred yards away I found his body—stark,
cold! He had been stabbed with some sharp instrument from behind. Robbery had
been added to murder. His money and watch were gone. The zealous investigation
immediately set on foot elicited no reliable particle of evidence, or so much as
suggested a suspicion of who the assassin or assassins might be. No one
exhibited more anxiety to discover a clew to the perpetrator of the dreadful
deed than Richard Chevne. I was not deceived by that show of zeal, and consulted
with Mr. Woolgar as to whether we might not hazard obtaining a warrant to search
the Poor Brother's apartments in the Hospital. He strongly dissuaded me from
attempting such a step. I, however, persisted; communicated my suspicions, and
the grounds of them, to the Mayor of Winchester, and a search-warrant issued.
Nothing was found to criminate the Poor Brother; and the only result of the
search proceeding was that I had earned for myself the enmity of a man whose
enmity was death. He did not openly manifest any disfavor. On the contrary, his
manner toward me had never been so friendly, so apparently cordial—which
friendliness and cordiality but the more convinced me I was a marked victim.
The months rolled on. We were
again in the dark days and nights of January. My mother, yielding to my
importunities, had sold the tenements in Otterbourne. The money was in our
house, and we were to leave for Appleby, Westmoreland, where we had several
relatives, in a few days.
My mother, who was much
indisposed, had gone to Winchester to consult a Dr. Lyford, accompanied by the
woman-servant, and would sleep there. Anticipating that I should soon be beyond
the immediate reach, at all events, of Richard Cheyne, I was in much better
spirits than usual. Again and again, while vainly attempting to fix my attention
upon a book, I passed over in review, for the thousandth time the circumstances
attending the murder of my father—thought over again the suspicions attaching to
the Poor Brother, Richard Cheyne; wondered if the popular notion that "murder
will out" would prove true; wondered also how it was no communication had
reached us from Lavender, the Bow Street Runner, who had inserted a paragraph in
the principal newspapers offering a reward to whoever would give information
that might lead to the discovery of the escaped criminal lunatic, William
Parsons. I had answered the advertisement, describing Richard Cheyne, and
hinting my own belief that he was the man wanted. No answer had been returned,
and I concluded that my pen-portrait of the Poor Brother had convinced Mr.
Lavender that Richard Cheyne was not the man wanted.
It was getting somewhat late for
country-folk, and I was thinking of locking up and going to bed, when the
door-latch lifted and in glided Richard Cheyne!—all the demon in his nature
roused in action, and flaring with flame from the bottomless pit in his wild,
He closed and locked the outer
door before my checked pulse could beat again, then with a devilish shout of
triumph advanced toward me, a bright, thin poniard (the instrument, I should
think, with which he had slain my father) glittering in his hand. "I have thee
now, young viper! thee and thy gold! Follow thy accursed father!" I avoided the
stroke by leaping backward, seized a chair, successfully warded off his furious
poniard strokes, and endeavored to gain the unlocked side-door of the room—once
out, my legs would save me. I kept shouting the while, "Murder! murder! Help!
help!" Furious—mad—Cheyne flung down the dagger, with his hands seized the
chair, and was wrenching it from me, when, just as all hope had left me and I
felt the full bitterness of death, the side-door was flung back and in rushed
two men—Lavender and a brother officer—both recognized with a shriek of terror
by Cheyne. They also recognized him. "All right," almost shouted Lavender; "this
is our man! No nonsense, Parsons."
Tile felon-lunatic offered no
further resistance; he was effectually secured and relodged in Bedlam, where he
died about three years afterward. It is not, certainly, quite clear that he was
one of the murderers of the Mars and Williams families, but the probabilities
favor the assumption that he was; and my own conviction upon the point fire
would not burn out of me.
THE ARMY OF THE MISSISSIPPI.
WE are enabled to give in this
number three pages of illustrations of
THE ARMY OF THE MISSISSIPPI from sketches by
our special artists, Messrs. Davis and Simplot.
we reproduce three of Mr. Davis's sketches of Corinth. Mr. Davis was enabled,
through the kindness of a general officer, to visit the place on the evacuation,
and he accordingly introduces us to a GENERAL VIEW OF CORINTH,
BEAUREGARD'S HEAD-QUARTERS there, and the
RAILWAY JUNCTION which gave the point its strategical importance. On
we give another picture, also from a sketch by Mr. Davis, showing the
ADVANCE-GUARD OF GENERAL POPE'S ARMY ENTERING THE REBEL WORKS. This was in all
probability the culminating point of the war in the Southwest, and the operation
therefore possesses historical interest. The picture shows the rude breast-works
erected by the enemy for the defense of their position.
We publish on
page 391 three
illustrations of GENERAL POPE'S ARMY, from sketches by our artist, Mr. Alexander
Simplot. FARMINGTON, which is shown in the sketches, is thus described by a
correspondent of the World:
Farmington, that I write in—that
Pope took from the rebels, that the rebels took from Pope, and that Pope took
from the rebels again, and that we now have securely under our left wing—is a
mere speck of a log-town, deserted by its seventy-five inhabitants; old,
dilapidated, and solitary,
situated to the east of Corinth
about three miles and a quarter, and to the north of the Memphis and Charleston
Railroad some two miles and a half. On the big tree at the cross-roads hard by
it is written, "To Purdy 22 Miles." The only sign-board left in Farmington
reads, "Haynie & Harris." What manner of wares Haynie & Harris were the
disposers of their sign does not signify.
Farmington is not only utterly
and absolutely vacated of its inhabitants, but presents the appearance, outdoors
and in, of having been in this state and condition behind the memory of man.
Still unmapped, insignificant
Farmington did confer upon me yesterday one of the most delicious hours of my
life. I passed it in a little, old "God's acre" that tops a neighboring hill.
The moment you set foot within this inclosure you are struck with the antiquated
and dilapidated fashion of every thing around you. The whole area is not greater
than a quarter of an acre, and yet I venture to presume that Greenwood or Mount
Auburn do not engage and entertain the sensitive to so great an extent as this
little rural grave-yard. Old Mortality might find employment here for many
hours. I, indeed, either from lack of experience or the age of the inscriptions,
made but poor success in his employment.
The fence, of palings that had
never known the embellishment of white-wash, has nearly all gone to decay. So
also the rude, small sheds that here and there cover from one to half a dozen of
the dead. The old-style brick vaults, that once looked tidy and substantial, are
falling into ruins and overspread with moss. A deep layer of last year's leaves
hides the ground, except where the hardy wild rose or the tenacious evergreen
peeps out in testimony of a loving care of the long, long ago. Bushes are
numerous, while every ten square feet contains a lofty and venerable oak. One of
these, loftier and more venerable than the rest, occupies the centre of the
cemetery, and spreads its vast arms in paternal protection over all beneath
them. Some of the graves are surrounded by a small post and rail fence
supporting a roof of shingles. Others are inclosed in plain palings. Most are
destitute of designation save a simple wooden stake, while the names of several
of the departed are chiseled on marble tombstones.
THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC.
WE devote the bulk of our space
this week to illustrations of THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, from sketches by our
artists, Messrs. A. R. Waud and Mead.
page 390 we give a picture,
from a sketch by Mr. Mead, of
THE BATTLE OF MECHANICSVILLE, a small village
where the rebels made a stand before they ran toward
Richmond; and on
another picture of the "skedaddle" of the rebel forces from the place, from a
sketch by Mr. A. R. Waud. The affair is thus described in the correspondence of
the Philadelphia Inquirer:
This morning at daybreak the
rebels opened upon the little band that had driven them across the river at New
Bridge. The cavalry and artillery were encamped across the river, and the
infantry close by upon the opposite side, but in supporting distance. To our
right was a little village called Mechanicsville. In a grove this side a battery
of four guns commenced to fire solid shot; before us was an open field, and the
fire was at once returned, but no damage bring done in half an hour, or the
firing being unsatisfactory, Wheeler's battery of four pieces and Davidson's
brigade in the following order—Seventy-seventh New York, Colonel J. B. M'Keon;
Thirty-third New York, Forty-ninth New York, Seventh Maine, Colonel Mason—were
ordered to take the battery. They at once marched up half a mile, when the rebel
infantry were seen drawn up in line of battle in front of the battery. Wheeler's
battery at once halted and opened upon them, dealing out a terrific fire of
canister and shell. It was returned with but little loss on our side. We could
now see four squadrons of rebel cavalry and two regiments of gray coats.
After firing some time, the
Seventy-seventh New York and Thirty-third New York advanced again, and, in
marching up, received a heavy volley of musketry and solid shot from their
12-pounders, with a "charge bayonets," and one of the most terrific roars, that
seemed like the bursting of a huge cataract from its barriers, on they rushed;
first the cavalry fled, and before the infantry got close enough to see the
whites of their eyes, their infantry broke and ran in all directions through the
woods. Down went, knapsacks, canteens, and muskets. The infantry pursued them
cautiously, and found one wounded man upon the field who belonged to a Georgia
regiment. Their killed and wounded were taken away with them with this
On pages 392 and 393 we publish a
picture representing the ENCAMPMENT OF THE ARMY AT CUMBERLAND, on the Pamunky
River, from a sketch by Mr. Mead, of Vermont. This encampment was a very
striking scene indeed. Never before in this country had so many men of various
arms been collected on one plain. The site of the camp itself was one of great
natural beauty. Up the river numbers of transports, steamers, and sailing craft,
were constantly hurrying forward with troops and munitions of war. The quiet
little stream was never so busy since it first flowed downward. It was from this
encampment that the army moved forward to the
Chickahominy and the
Battle of Fairoaks.
On the same pages we illustrate
one of the terrible BAYONET CHARGES BY SICKLES'S BRIGADE, at the Battle of
Fairoaks, on the Sunday—June 1. The Herald correspondent wrote:
Soon the fire became general, and
spread along the lines of the Irish brigade, French's brigade, and the brigade
of the gallant Howard. This day also the enemy's fire was well directed and
severe. But it was returned with certainly equal effect, and our men pushed
forward, across the railroad and down into the swamp; and now the enemy in his
turn gave way. It was very difficult ground, and the men could not at all times
keep the line, and were often up to their waists in water in the advance through
the swamp. Yet still they kept on. Sometimes, too, there may have been a
weakness under the fire, but the gallantry of the officers kept the men up to
it. This was once or twice the case in Howard's brigade; but the young hero, by
his own gallantry, gave an example that restored all. Two horses were shot under
him in this advance, and he received two rifle-balls in his right arm; but he
bound up the shattered limb in a handkerchief and kept the field. With the
continual din of the musketry, as it pealed up and down the lines on either
side, no order could be heard, and only example served. Thus the mounted
officers were compelled to keep ahead in the advance to show the men what was
There was the Irish brigade in
all the glory of a fair free fight. Other men go into fights finely, sternly, or
indifferently, but the only man that really loves it after all is the "green
immortal" Irishman. So there the brave lads from the old sod, with the chosen
Meagher at their head, laughed and fought and joked, as if it were the finest
fun in the world. We saw one sitting on the edge of a ditch, with his feet in
the water—and the sun and the water too very hot—and he apparently wounded. As
we rode by he called out to know if we "had ever seen a boiled Irishman."
From Richardson's division the
fire spread around to the New Jersey brigade, on the front which the enemy had
pushed so far the day before. Nobly did the Jerseymen stand up to it and push on
closer and closer, and the enemy fell back, through the thick swamp, slowly and
steadily. On this front the fire was not so severe as on Richardson's, but still
it told heavily on our brave fellows, though it did not prevent the advance.
Still farther to the left was the
Excelsior brigade, and General Sickles with it. Though on, we believe, his first
battle-field, the General had not the air or manner of a
novice. He was all activity, and
thought only of the way to win.
Sickles's men apparently lost
their patience, and we suppose the officers did, and General Sickles especially.
When men advance across a battle-field, loading and firing as they go, they
naturally do not go very fast, and the Sickles brigade voted the gait to be
decidedly slow. So the order was given to fix bayonets and charge, and they did
it not mincingly at all, but in terrible earnest and with a glorious cheer. Some
of the rebels stood it and held their places; some stood long enough to fire
their pieces, and then run; but the mass ran at once, scampered away through the
woods like so many squirrels.
That ended the fight for Sunday
in that direction, for it would not do to let the men go rashly too far into the
woods. We didn't know what little arrangements of artillery, etc., the enemy
might have made there in our absence, so with a wise caution the Sickles brigade
was drawn back to the edge of the wood, and laid away there snugly; and there it
spent its Sunday ready for visitors, though none came, if we except several
innocuous shell that the enemy threw into the wood over their heads.
On page 396 we reproduce one of
Mr. Waud's sketches, representing GENERAL M'CLELLAN RECONNOITRING THE TURNPIKE
FROM MECHANICSVILLE TO RICHMOND. He has been within half an hour's ride of the
rebel capital for several days. One can easily imagine the feelings with which
he scanned the landscape. A few days more and he will realize the aim of his
expedition—On to Richmond!
page 397 we give a
picture of the commencement of the
BATTLE OF HANOVER COURT HOUSE, from a sketch
by an officer engaged, which was kindly presented to our artist. We take the
following account of the transaction from the Herald correspondence:
Within about three miles of
Hanover Court House the road turns to the right, and to the left there branches
off another road which leads to Ashland. It was at this point that the enemy was
first discovered in the woods, apparently in force, near the Hanover Road, while
at the same time he was found to be in position near the Ashland Road to the
left. General Potter immediately made a proper disposition of his
forces—infantry, artillery, and cavalry were speedily placed in position to meet
the enemy. Berdan's Sharp-shooters went in front, deployed in open order, and
shots were exchanged between the opposing forces. At the forks of the road
General Martindale was ordered to proceed to the left, drive the enemy from his
position, cut the telegraph wires, and pull up a portion of the Virginia Central
Railroad track at Peak's Station, which is less than half a mile distant, while
the Twenty-fifth New York went in front. General Martindale proceeded with the
Twenty-second Massachusetts, Colonel Gove, and the Second Maine, Colonel
Roberts, to execute the order. The Twenty-second Massachusetts being directed to
support a section of Benson's battery, the Captain commanding the artillery in
person, skirmishers were thrown out in front and on either flank, the remainder
of the regiment advancing in line of battle behind the battery. The skirmishers
soon reported the enemy coming out of railroad cars to the left, therefore the
whole of the Twenty-second Massachusetts was ordered to the left of the battery,
which opened with shell in the direction in which the enemy was seen, at the
same time the Second Maine being thrown to the right, diagonally across the
In the mean time the section of
battery was relieved by Griffins', which advanced between the regiments and
opened a vigorous fire on the enemy, while the latter had also brought forward
some field-pieces, and there soon ensued quite an artillery engagement. It was
subsequently seen that a shell from our battery exploded one of the enemy's
caissons. The pioneers of the Second Maine went forward, cut the telegraph wire,
pulled up over thirty rails from the railroad track, and, in conjunction with
the Twenty-second Massachusetts, accomplished what had been directed. The enemy
had been driven back, and the two regiments were withdrawn and directed to join
the remainder of our command, which was advancing on Hanover Court House.
Before these operations had
transpired on the left the Twenty-fifth New York, in General Martindale's
brigade, had proceeded, with Berdan's Sharp-shooters., along the Hanover road.
When debouching from the woods, skirmishers being thrown out in front, the enemy
opened a vigorous fire of musketry from the woods to the left, about three
hundred yards distant. This was the first fire of the day. At this fire
Lieutenant-Colonel Savage was wounded in the arm, and Lieutenant Fiske was
killed. A rebel regiment then advanced through the fields, filed right along the
fence near Dr. Kenny's house, on the left of the road, while those on the other
side also came around, and volleys were exchanged. Lieutenant Thompson and four
or five men were killed by this fire. Advancing in three detachments, the enemy
succeeded in cutting off and capturing nearly two companies of the Twenty-fifth
Regiment. Berdan's Sharp-shooters were meanwhile engaged. Colonel Johnson, of
the Twenty-fifth, then withdrew his small command to give the enemy battle near
his reserve, under Major Gilbert, about twenty rods in the rear, when other
troops arrived on the ground at this auspicious moment.
These troops consisted of a
portion of General Butterfield's brigade. Having received information from the
Commanding General that his troops were required in front, General Butterfield
pushed them forward and formed them in two lines. The first line consisted of
the Seventeenth New York, Colonel Lansing, on the right, and the Eighty-third
Pennsylvania, Colonel M'Lane, on the left; and the second, of the Twelfth New
York, Colonel Weeks, on the right, and the Sixteenth Michigan, Colonel Stockton,
on the left, the two latter regiments being in double column in the rear. A
strong line of skirmishers were thrown out in advance. In this order the
regiments went through the woods, at the edge of which they were halted till the
line was perfectly formed and the position of the enemy ascertained. In this
order the command emerged from the woods, the skirmishers firing in front. The
splendid appearance of the brigade as it cane into the wheat-fields, and the
vigorous fire of the skirmishers, had the effect of putting the enemy to flight.
The rebels immediately fell back, and the Seventeenth New York, in front on the
right, took one of the enemy's guns—a brass 12-pounder, which is regarded as the
most precious trophy from the battle-field, Lieutenant-Colonel Morris, of the
Seventeenth New York, who has just been appointed Colonel of the Ninety-third,
being sick, was requested by the doctor to remain in charge of some prisoners
who had been taken near Dr. Kenny's house. When the enemy was advancing on that
position Colonel Morris made the rebel prisoners haul away the captured cannon,
which, for the time being, was given in charge of Captain Martin's company, and
turned upon the rebels.
Generals Porter and Morell were
now on the ground, and orders were given for the brigade to follow, as well in
pursuit of the retiring enemy as to take the Hanover Railroad station, and
participate in the expected action in the vicity of Hanover Court House. Those
regiments preserving their first formation still steadily advanced, at shoulder
arms, across the extensive fields, over a rough ravine and through the adjacent
woods. The command occupied the railroad station to the left, where cars of the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad were found abandoned on the track, a number of the
enemy's tents, and other articles, and was in possession of Hanover Court House
when intelligence was received that the enemy had reappeared in our rear, and
orders were given to return.
OUR FLOTILLA IN THE JAMES
WE publish on
page 390 an
illustration of OUR FLOTILLA IN THE JAMES RIVER, near Richmond, from a sketch by
an officer on board one of the vessels. The artist writes as follows on the
subject of his picture:
City Point is, or rather has
been, the "port of entry" to Petersburg. It is situated on the right bank of the
James River, about fifty miles below Richmond. It can hardly be called a town,
having at the best of times not more than two or three hundred inhabitants, and
these mostly negroes; at present it is almost entirely deserted. Being the
terminus of the Petersburg Railroad, the cars frequently arrive, and are met by
the United States steamer Massachusetts, both under flag of truce, to effect the
exchange of prisoners. It is daily expected that Colonel Corcoran will here be
restored to his anxious friends.
A letter from City Point says:
While coming up the river the
height of the tide indicated that the heavy rains had caused a freshet. This was
considerably increased yesterday, and still continues. Immense quantities of
driftwood, logs, pieces of wreck, etc., have been and are still being floated
down the stream by the force of the current. So strong is the tide that it is
with great difficulty a boat from one of the vessels lower down can reach
another higher up the river. Yesterday a vessel's hatch, and soon after a cook's
galley, with the stove, were drifted down, and the corpse of a man floated past,
face downward, feet forward and legs extended. The corpse was clad in a white
shirt and white trowsers or drawers. As the face was downward, we could not tell
whether the body was that of a white or a black man.
Last night, about ten o'clock,
two large canal boats were driven past the squadron by the force of the current.
These appearances seem to indicate that the obstructions placed across the river
Fort Darling by the rebels are being gradually washed away by the freshet;
but it is exceedingly doubtful whether they will have been so far removed as to
admit of the passage of our vessels, so effectually have the sunken vessels been
secured between piles driven Into the river, and such large quantities of stones
have been sunk between the interstices. The weather is threatening and the
current in full force, with a rushing sound like that of a waterfall, and there
is no indication of the freshet subsiding for some time.
Commodore Goldsborough, with a
squadron as powerful as that with which
New Orleans, is at City
Point or thereabouts. The country will expect to hear from him.
GO, MY BOY, WHERE DUTY CALLS YOU.
AN ANSWER TO "MOTHER, CAN I GO ?"
PUBLISHED IN "HARPER'S WEEKLY" OF MARCH 22.
Go, my boy, and Heaven bless you!
I have read each precious line
Of your heart's responsive
throbbings to a Higher Call than mine.
God hath spoken—you have heard
Him—and though tears these eyes bedim,
Your affection for your mother
shall not mar your love for Him.
Could I bid you stay from
fondness, when the ever-ruling Hand
Marks your path to duty clearly
for the safety of your land?
No! 'tis yours to be a patriot,
and 'tis mine to prove as true;
Go, my boy, where duty calls you,
and my heart shall follow you!
Go in faith, and feel protection
in a Power Supreme, Divine;
Should a bullet pierce your body
it will also enter mine.
Do I think of this in sorrow?
Does my love sad fears renew?
Do I tremble at the prospect? No,
my son: no more than you.
Dear to me is every pathway where
your precious feet have trod;
But I give you fondly, freely, to
my country and my God. You and I shall never falter in the work we have to do;
Go, my boy, where duty calls you,
and my heart shall follow you!
I shall pray for you—how
often—with the waking hour of morn,
Through the labors of my
household, and when night is coming on.
If a mother's prayers can keep
you 'mid the dangers you incur,
God will surely bring you back
again to happiness and her.
I will never doubt the goodness
that has kept you until now,
That has kept the evil from your
heart, the shadow from your brow;
And I know that it shall keep you
in the path you must pursue;
Go, my boy, where duty calls you,
and my heart shall follow you!
It my boy were less a hero, less
the man in thought and deed,
I had less to give my country in
her trying hour of need;
And I feel a pride in knowing
that to serve this cause divine,
From the hearth-stone goes no
braver heart than that which goes from mine.
I have loved you from the hour
that my lips first pressed your brow,
Ever tenderly, but never quite as
tenderly as now.
All I have is His who gave it,
whatsoe'er He bids me do; Go, my boy, where duty calls you, and my heart shall
I shall miss you through the
spring-time, when the orchard is in bloom,
When the smiling face of Nature
bathes its beauty in perfume;
When the birds are sweetly
singing by the door and on the wing,
I shall think of you who always
loved to pause and hear them sing.
Long will seem the waning hours
through the drowsy summer day,
With my boy exposed to dangers on
a soil as far away.
But my spirit shall not murmur,
though a tear bedim my view;
Go, my boy, where duty calls you,
and my heart shall follow you!
You will come and see your
mother, come and kiss her, as you say,
From her lips receive the
blessing that shall cheer you on your way;
From her fond embrace go forward
to resist your country's foe,
With the comforting assurance
that your mother bade you go.
Heaven protect, and bless, and
keep you; holy angels guard your way,
Keep your spirit from temptation,
and your feet from going astray.
To your mother ever faithful, to
your country ever true—
Go, my boy, where duty calls you,
and my heart shall follow you!
May 28, 1862.