Civil War Overview
Civil War 1861
Civil War 1862
Civil War 1863
Civil War 1864
Civil War 1865
Civil War Battles
Robert E. Lee
Civil War Medicine
Civil War Links
Republic of Texas
Civil War Gifts
Robert E. Lee Portrait
Page) At Marietta, November 13,
General SHERMAN reviewed
KILPATRICK'S cavalry division, which had been
organized to accompany the grand expedition. Our artist sends us a spirited
sketch of the scene, taken at the moment when General KILPATRICK'S, riding at
the head of the whole column, came up to where General SHERMAN with his staff
was waiting for the troops to pass in review. Saluting the latter, General
KILPATRICK then took position on his right and the long column rode slowly by,
each squadron in its order. To the right lay
Marietta and as though by way of significant
comment upon the deadly earnestness of the scene, otherwise so brilliant and
imposing, clouds of smoke were rising from the business part of the city, most
of which was destroyed by fire. SHERMAN, superbly mounted, was the life of the
spectacle. The fine soldierly appearance and spirited movements of the division
met his admiring approval, and fully answered the question put by him to
KILPATRICK, " Whether he (General KILPATRICK) had a division of cavalry ?"
Leaving columns of smoke behind
them, and destroying the railroad from Kingston, the advancing columns moved on
Atlanta. Here, also, every thing valuable to
the enemy was committed to the fames. On the evening of November 15 only a
brigade of Massachusetts soldiers were left in the town, and while the air
hurtled with flame from burning buildings which covered an area of two hundred
acres, the band of the Thirty-third Massachusetts played " John Brown's soul is
marching on." Already the army was well on its way east ward across the State,
moving two grand columns HOWARD with the Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps on the
SLOCUM with the Fourteenth and Twentieth on the
left. The expedition consisted of not less than fifty thousand veteran soldiers.
If the spectacle of the march was hidden from our eyes, it was equally veiled
from rebel vision. KILPATRICK'S cavalry hung like a mass of cloud about
SHERMAN'S movements, so mistifying the rebel authorities by their movements this
way and that way that they never could discern the locality of SHERMAN'S main
columns. Now Macon was threatened, and while COBB'S militia was concentrating at
that place and
BEAUREGARD was hastening to the same, leaving
poor HOOD behind, HOWARD had already passed the point of danger, and COBB at
Griswoldville on the 22d caught a passing glimpse of his rear guard only, which
his raw men dashed against to their satisfaction, losing more than two thousand
men. Before the 20th both columns had passed the Ocmulgee without opposition.
SLOCUM kept the rail road after crossing as far as to Madison, which was
occupied on the 19th. This town is said to be the most picturesque in Georgia.
Here the railroad buildings and store houses were destroyed, and the column,
then leaving the railroad, moved south to Milledgeville.
Just north of the city Little
River was crossed. Here the mill was in operation, and our soldiers used it to
grind the corn which they had foraged. The Legislature had been in session at
the capitol ; but on the approach of SHERMAN'S left wing, the existence of which
appears previously not to have been suspected, that body was seized with a panic
which quickly spread among the citizens, followed by a scene of the utmost
confusion. The cars were heaped with frightened citizens, and a thousand dollars
was a cheap price for a buggy. The Georgians made considerable fun of their much
abused Governor BROWN, who seemed to be cooler than the rest of them and took
good care to ship his cabbages. Upon entering the town one fine morning the
colors of the One Hundred and Seventh New York were raised over the capitol, and
General SHERMAN took up his head quarters in Governor BROWN'S mansion, from
which the furniture had all been removed. The next day, the 23d, the right wing
under HOWARD had reached Gordon, just south from Milledgeville. It was near this
point that the battle of Griswoldville, above alluded to, was fought. This was
the most serious fight on the march. Only a brigade of infantry and a detachment
of cavalry were engaged on the Federal side. General WOLCOT was in command.
About five thousand militia, with which were mingled some of HARDEE'S old corps
from Savannah, attacked our breast works, and were repulsed with a loss on their
part of 2500 men, 300 of whom were left dead on the field.
Then the Oconee was crossed by
SLOCUM'S column, when it was found that WHEELER had also crossed and was
covering the approaches to Sandersville, to which point he was steadily driven
by the advancing column. HOWARD, in the mean while, was attempting to cross the
Oconee lower down at the Central Railroad bridge with a rebel cavalry force
under WAYNE in his front. This force was of miscellaneous composition, being
made up of WHEELER'S cavalry, Georgia militia, and a band of convicts in their
prison garb whom Governor BROWN had released on condition that they would help
defend the Confederacy. However, in spite of this formidable array, HOWARD
crossed with little difficulty.
The army had set out with sixteen
days' rations, but it was found that the country furnished supplies in
abundance. The cattle trains were so large that it was difficult to manage them,
and a great plenty of turkeys placed SHERMAN'S army on a par with GRANT'S as
regarded a Thanksgiving dinner. "Hard tack" became a by gone institution. After
crossing the Oconee also there was no more apprehension of bad roads, as the
sandy soil rapidly absorbs the most abundant falls of rain, rather benefiting
the roans than injuring them. The people were found to be very ignorant, even
the richest of them. A large number of the able bodied negroes joined the march.
Thus the two columns marched on
by roads parallel to the Georgia Central Railroad toward the Ogechee River.
KILPATRICK moved on the left flank, still beclouding the rebels by feints on
Augusta November 30 the whole army, with the exception of the Fifteenth Corps,
had crossed the Ogechee without fighting a battle. KILPATRICK had already
advanced to Millen, but had failed to find any of our prisoners there. Our
been kept for some time at
Millen, four miles distant from Millen Junction. The Junction was completely
destroyed by General SHERMAN; no vestige of the place remains. The prison pen at
Millen was built of large logs driven into the ground, with sentry posts on the
top at short intervals. No shelter whatever was afforded to the prisoners, who
burrowed in the earth. The pen was commanded by a fort, which appears in the
sketch on the right. The. square buildings shown in the sketch are ovens. Just
inside the palisades a light rail fence ran, which was called the dead line.
When GEORGE N. BARNARD, whose sketches of the prison pen are here reproduced,
was at that place he saw our dead soldiers lying unburied, as shown in the
illustration. The grave yard near by showed that over 700 of our men had been
buried, the only record being small boards numbering every fifty, thus-50, 100,
150, 200, etc.
Mr. Davis sends us a sketch of a
Mill situated on one of the roads by which SHERMAN'S army marched through the
heart of Georgia. Limestone Creek, on which the mill stood, is a small stream,
running at this point through dense woods of cypress, and which above the mill
dam spreads into a " cypress swamp," full of the singular stumps rounded and
smooth at the top, and projecting two or three feet above the water known as
"cypress-knees." Here was met the first live oak tree, from beneath whose
spreading branches, partly shown in the fore ground, upon a sort of bluff
overlooking the mill and road, the sketch was made. General SHERMAN and Staff
halted at this mill for a short time while the column was passing the General
seating himself, as shown in the sketch, on the door step of one of the cabins
On the march over 200 miles of
railroad had been completely destroyed. The army, having been concentrated by
December 6 near Millen, began to move on Savannah, flanked on the right by the
Ogechee, and on the left by the Savannah River. On the 13th Fort M'Allister was
captured, and communication opened with DAHLGREN'S fleet ; and one week
afterward Savannah was occupied. The grand march had been then consummated; its
grand object the establishment of a new base on the seacoast having been
accomplished. This success was gained at a loss of about 1500 men, out without
the sacrifice of a single wagon or a single gun.
BLESSINGS OF THE SNOW.
DOWN comes the snow, the fleecy
Soft floating through the air,
And decks in friendly robes of
The chill earth brown and bare.
It spreads o'er all the empty fields, Each naked stalk it kindly shields;
And the beautiful snow, the
heaven-born snow, Covers the shivering earth below.
Down floats the snow, the pure
white snow, On angel wings of light,
And folds them over Autumn's
And hides her path from sight.
The dry leaves nestle in its fold
Not one is left out in the cold;
And the beautiful snow, the
heaven-born snow, Rests with the saddened earth below.
Down falls the snow, the pretty
snow, Like flowers in heaven grown; Pale garlands for the old Year's brow, By
angel fingers thrown.
It decks the forest trees
forlorn, Of all their summer beauty shorn ;
And the beautiful snow, the
heaven-born snow, Blooms on the stricken earth below.
Down comes the snow, the
love-like snow, Like answer to our prayers,
God sure will send, if we but
And cast on him our cares.
For righteousness and peace shall
meet, And o'er our mourning land shall greet,
As the beautiful snow, the
heaven-born snow, Kisses the unclean earth below.
THE EXPERIENCE OF A POOR
THE evening was raw and there was
snow on the streets, genuine London snow, half thawed, and trodden, and defiled
with mud. I remembered it well, that snow, though it was fifteen years since I
had last seen its cheerless face. There it lay, in the same old ruts, and
spreading the same old snares on the side-paths. Only a few hours arrived from
South America via Southampton, I sat in my room at Morley's Hotel, Charing
Cross, and looked gloomily out at the fountains, walked up and down the floor
discontentedly, and fiercely tried my best to feel glad that I was a wanderer no
more, and that I had indeed got home at last.
I poked up my fire, and took a
long look back-ward upon my past life, through the embers. I remembered how my
childhood had been embittered by dependence, how my rich arid respect-able
uncle, whose ruling passion was vain-glory, had looked on my existence as a
nuisance, not so much because he was obliged to open his purse to pay for my
clothing and education, as because that, when a man, he thought I could reflect
no credit upon his name. I remembered how in those days I had a soul for the
beautiful, and a certain almost womanish tenderness of heart, which by dint of
much sneering had been successfully extracted from me. I remembered my uncle's
unconcealed relief at my determination to go abroad and seek my fortune, the
cold good-by of my only cousin, the lonely bitter farewell to England hardly
sweetened by the impatient hopes that consumed rather than cheered me the hopes
of name and gold, won by my own exertions, with which I should yet wring from
those who despised me the worthless respect which they denied me now.
Sitting there at the fire, I rang
the bell, and the waiter came to me : an old man whose face I remembered. I
asked him some questions. Yes, he knew Mr. George Rutland ; recollected that
many years ago he used to stay at Morley's when he came to London. The old
gentleman had always staid there. But Mr. George was too grand for Morley's now.
The family al-ways came to town in the spring, but, at this season, "Rutland
Hall, Kent," would be pretty sure to be their address.
Having obtained all the
information I desired, I began forthwith to write a letter :
"DEAR GEORGE,--1 dare say you
will be as much surprised to see my handwriting as you would to behold an
apparition from the dead. However, you know I was always a ne'er-do-well, and I
have not had the grace to die yet. I am ashamed not to be able to announce
myself as having returned home with my fortune made; but mishaps will follow the
most hard-working and well-meaning. I am still a young man, even though fifteen
of the best years of my life may have been lost, and I am willing to devote
myself to any worthy occupation. Meantime, I am anxious to see you and yours. A
long absence from home and kindred makes one value the grasp of a friendly hand.
I shall not wait for your reply to this, but go down to Kent the day after
to-morrow, arriving, I believe, about dinner-time. You see I em making myself
assured of your welcome for a few weeks, till I have time to look about me.
" I remain, dear George,
" Your old friend and cousin,
I folded this missive and placed
it in its envelope. " I shall find out, once for all, what they are made of," I
said, complacently, as I wrote the address, " George Rutland, Esq., Rutland.
It was about seven on a frosty
evening when I arrived at the imposing entrance of Rutland Hall. No Cousin
George came rushing out to meet me. " Of course not," I thought ; " I am unused
to their formal manners in this country. 'He is lying in wait for me on the mat
inside." I was admitted by a solemn person as quietly and mechanically as though
my restoration to home and kindred were a thing that had happened regularly in
his presence every day since his birth. He ushered me into a grand hall, but no
mat supported the impatient feet of the dignified master of the house. " Ah!"
said I, "even this, perhaps, were scarcely etiquette. No doubt he stands chafing
on the drawing-room hearth-rug, and I have little enough time to make myself
presentable before dinner." So, resigning myself to circumstances, I meekly
followed a guide who volunteered to conduct me to the chamber assigned to my
especial use. I had to travel a considerable distance before I reached it. "Dear
me!" I remarked to myself when I did reach it, " I had expected to find the
rooms in such a house more elegantly appointed than this!"
I made my toilet, and again
submitting my-self to my guide, was convoyed to the drawing-room door. All the
way down stairs I had been conning pleasant speeches with which to greet my
kinsfolk. I am not a brilliant person, but I sometimes succeed in pleasing when
I try, and on this occasion I had the desire to do my best.
The drawing-room door was at the
distant end of the hall, and my arrival had been so very quiet, that I conceived
my expectant entertainers could hardly be aware of my presence in the house. I
thought I should give them a surprise. The door opened and closed upon me,
leaving me within the room. I looked around me, and saw darkness there, and
Ah, yes, but there was something
more! There was a blazing fire which sent eddying swirls of light through the
shadows, and right in the blush of its warmth a little figure was lounging in an
easy-chair. The little figure was a girl of apparently about fifteen or sixteen
years of age, dressed in a short shabby black frock, who was evidently spoiling
her eyes by reading by the firelight. She lay with her head thrown back, a mass
of fair curly hair being thus tossed over the velvet cushion on which it rested,
while she held her book aloft to catch the light. She was luxuriating in her
solitude, and little dreaming of interruption.
She was so absorbed in her book,
the door had opened and closed so noiselessly, and the room was so large, that I
was obliged to make a sound to engage her attention, She started violently then,
and Iooked up with a nervous fearfulness in her face. She dropped her book, sat
upright, and put out her hand, eagerly grasping a thing I had not noticed
before, and which leaned against the chair --- a crutch. She then got up leaning
on it and stood before me. The poor little thing was lame, and had two crutches
I introduced myself, and her fear
seemed to subside. She asked me to sit down, with a prim little assumption of
at-home-ness, which did not sit upon her with ease. She picked up her book and
laid it on her lap ; she produced a net from the recesses of her chair, and with
a blush gathered up the curls and tucked them into its mesh-es. Then she sat
quiet, but kept her hand upon her crutches, as if she was ready at a moment's
notice to limp away across the carpet, and leave me to my own resources.
"Thomson thought there was nobody
in the room," she said, as if anxious to account for her own presence there "I
always stay in the nursery, except sometimes when they all go out and I get this
room to myself. Then I like to read here."
"Mr. Rutland is not at home?" I
said. "No, they are all out dining."
"Indeed! Your papa, perhaps, did
not get my letter?''
She blushed crimson.
"I am not a Miss Rutland," she
said. " My name is Teecie Ray. I am an orphan. My father was a friend of Mr.
Rutland, and he takes care of me for charity."
The last word was pronounced with
a certain controlled quiver of the lip. But she went on. "I don't know about the
letter, but I heard a gentleman was expected. I did not think it could be
to-night, though, as they all went out."
"A reasonable conclusion to come
to," I thought, and thereupon began musing on the eagerness of welcome displayed
by my affection-ate Cousin George. If I were the gentleman expected, they must
have received my letter, and in it were fully set forth the day and hour of my
proposed arrival. " Ah ! George, my dear fellow," I said, "you are not a whit
Arriving at this conclusion, I
raised my glance, and met, full, the observant gaze of a pair of large shrewd
gray eyes. My little hostess for the time being was regarding me with such a
curiously Iegible expression on her face, that I could not but read it and be
amused. It said plainly: "I know more about you than you think, and I pity you.
You come here with expectations which will not be fulfilled. There is much
mortification in store for you. I wonder you came here at all. If I were once
well out-side these gates I should never limp inside them again. If I knew a
road out into the world you come from, I would set out bravely on my crutch-es.
No, not even for the sake of a stolen hour like this, in a velvet chair, would I
How any one glance could say all
this was a riddle ; but it did say all this. The language of the face was as
simple to me as though every word had been translated into my ear. Perhaps a
certain internal light, kindled long ago, before this little orphan was horn, or
George Rutland had become owner of Rutland Hall, assisted me in deciphering so
much information so readily. However that may be, certain things before surmised
became assured facts in my mind, and a quaint bond of sympathy became at once
established between me and my companion.
"Miss Ray," I said, "what do you
think of a man who, having been abroad for fifteen years, has the impudence to
come home without a shilling in his pocket ? Ought he not to be stoned alive ?"
"I thought how it was," said she,
shaking her head, and looking up with another of her shrewd glances. '"I knew
it, when they put you into such a had bedroom. They are keeping all the good
rooms for the people who are coming next week. The house will be full for
Christmas. It won't do," she added, meditatively.
"What won't do?" I said.
"Your not having a shilling in
your pocket. They'll sneer at you for it, and the servants will find it out. I
have a guinea that old Lady Thornton gave me on my birthday, and if you would
take the loan of it I should be very glad. I don't want it at all, and you could
pay me back when you are better off."
She said this with such
business-like gravity, that I felt obliged to control my inclination to laugh.
She had evidently taken me under her protection. Her keen little wits foresaw
snares and difficulties besetting my steps during my stay at Rutland Hall, to
which my newer eyes, she imagined, must be ignorantly blind. I looked at her
with amusement, as she sat there seriously considering my financial interests. I
had a fancy to humor this quaint confidential relation that had sprung up so
spontaneously between us. I said, gravely :
"I am very much obliged to you
for your offer, and will gladly take advantage of it. Do you happen to have the
guinea at hand ?"
She seized her crutches, and
limped quickly out of the room. Presently she returned with a little bonbon box,
which she placed in my hand. Opening it, I found one guinea, wrapped up
carefully in silver paper.
" I wish it had been more!" she
said, wistfully, as I coolly transferred it to my pocket, box and all. " But I
so seldom get money !"
At this moment the solemn person
who had escorted me hither and thither before announced that my dinner was
On my return to the drawing-room,
I found, to my intense disappointment, that my beneficent bird had flown. Teecie
Ray had limped off to the nursery.
Next morning, at breakfast, I was
introduced to the family. I found them, on the whole, pretty much what I had
expected. My Cousin George had developed into a pompous portly paterfamilias;
and, in spite of his cool professions of pleasure, was evidently very sorry to
see me. The Mamma Rutland just countenanced me, in a manner the most frigidly
polite. The grown-up young ladies treated me with the most well-bred negligence.
Unless I had been very obtuse indeed, I could scarcely have failed to perceive
the place appointed for me in Rutland Hall. I was expected to sit be-low the
salt. I was that dreadful thing it person of no importance. George amused
himself with me for a few days, displaying to me his various fine possessions,
and then, on the arrive] of grander guests, left me to my own resources. The
Misses Rutland endured my escort on their riding expeditions only till more
eligible cavaliers appeared. As for the lady of the house, her annoyance at
having me quartered indefinitely on her premises, was hardly concealed. The
truth was, they were new people in the circle in which they moved, and it did
not suit them to have a poor relation coming suddenly among them, calling them
"cousin," and making him-self at home in the house. For me, I was not blind,
though none of these things did it suit me to see. I made myself as comfortable
as was possible under the circumstances, took every sneer and snub in excellent
part, and was as