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1Author:  Lee Susan (Pendleton)Add
 Title:  Memoirs of William Nelson Pendleton, D.D.  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text 
 Description: William Nelson Pendleton, the third surviving son of Edmund Pendleton, third of that name in the county of Caroline, Virginia, and Lucy Nelson, was born on December 26, 1809. "I should have written to you again before this, but for the last ten days I have experienced a sharp attack of fever, which confined me to bed for that time. Travelling through the swamps of Carolina did prove, as you apprehended, dangerous, and it is another proof of the Divine mercy to me that my sickness has not been more severe. I was taken with a violent ague, succeeded by a burning fever. One of the officers who called to see me, believing my sickness more serious than I imagined, sent for a physician. The doctor, happily for me, understood his business (that is, giving physic), and dosed me at the rate of once every two hours for six days, and this I am persuaded, through the blessing of God, saved me from the most violent bilious fever, or, as the doctor told me, from yellow fever, as when he first saw me he thought I was in for that alarming disease. . . . Being alone for the greater part of the time, you may imagine that it went rather hard with me; but the officers were very kind to me, and the ladies would send some little delicacies now and then,—all which attentions tended to alleviate my sickness; at least, they called forth my gratitude, and aided my poor stock of patience. My colonel has given me orders for Augusta, Georgia, to repair thither by the last of the month. In the mean time I await some letters from New York to decide my destination." ". . . Do what I will, I cannot overcome the oppression of heart and depression of spirits under which I have been laboring; and the circumstances in which I am placed, the company in which I am sometimes thrown, tend rather to increase my melancholy. ". . . I fear I have led you into a great error. You seem to think that I have undergone a great change since you saw me. When I look into myself for the change you speak of, I find there a state far different from that you have imagined. I feel that I have undergone no sudden operation of the Holy Spirit; I feel that I am still liable to the charge of an unstable faith, that I am still under the dominion of sin and worldly thoughts, and that my heart, though sincerely turned towards the great and good God, and endeavoring to yield itself in gratitude and love to Him, is still unchanged. All that I can in strict truth say is that, in obedience to the instructions of the Gospel, I feel bound to change the habits of my life, and this I can only do in a measure; that is, I find evil thoughts will enter my mind and render that act which might appear good frequently wicked, as being a species of hypocrisy. And does not this prove that a change of heart has not been wrought in me? I find it hard to express myself in the precise way in which I would have you understand me; I feel on the subject of religion precisely as I did when I last wrote to you. ". . . I stayed in Washington till two o'clock Friday, having ascertained that travel with what speed I would Philadelphia must be my limit Saturday; and since no boat leaves Philadelphia for the North on Sunday, I could not in any event get on until Monday. A young Mr. L—, from Richmond, had travelled with me, and finding out who I was, introduced himself to me. We walked about together, and then went to the Capitol, and visited both Houses. Did not stay long enough in the House of Representatives to hear anything said, but in the Senate we were more fortunate. Mr. Dickerson, of New Jersey, as chairman of the Committee on Manufactures, made a report on the tariff, and then arose Mr. Hayne, and for about ten or fifteen minutes proceeded in the most impassioned but happy eloquence I ever heard. General Smith, of Maryland, said something, and so did Governor Miller, of South Carolina, At last rose Mr. Clay; calm, steady, and powerful, he stood ahead of them all. I do not think I ever heard him surpassed, though this was seemingly but a minor occasion. Mr. Hayne had made some tough charges against the committee reporting the bill. Mr. Clay was one of that committee, and it was with fine effect he stepped forward from his seat, and, as he said, repelled them with indignation. With Mr. Hayne I was captivated; with Mr. Clay I was charmed: the one all sincerity and fire, the other all learning and force. ". . . I have arranged with Mr. Ross* * Assistant professor of mathematics. to take charge of his scholars† † Private pupils. on Monday, and am to have them exclusively. There are now four, and it is probable will be more, I can now tell you the arrangement of my hours. I rise in time to be dressed by sunrise, when I study my Bible and say my prayers. These things I have not more than done before breakfast-time,—seven o'clock. At eight I go to my section, and remain there until eleven. Hereafter the next hour is to be devoted to the scholars Mr. Ross gives up. One is, you know, the dinner-hour. From two to four I intend devoting to Greek; from four to six reading, and the night to mathematics. Day before yesterday I called to ask Mr. Harris to lend me Doddridge, which he did, and offered at the same time Bickerslith, recommending it to me. I brought it to my room, and this morning find in your letter a desire I should get it. I do not feel fit for the sacrament at this time. It shall be my endeavor to cultivate the requisite temper and dispositions. I met with Mr. Warner‡ ‡ Professor of history and ethics. on Friday as I was walking for exercise. We had a long talk as to the religious principles of many of the young officers here, and as to the tendency to infidelity in all young men, and particularly in the corps of cadets. I suggested the possible advantages to be derived from his trying to introduce 'Gregory's Letters' as a part of the studies of his course. But he seems to think the view the young men would get of Christianity in so short a time would be so superficial as to do more harm than good. It is, indeed, alarming here. R—came to see us the other evening, and, as he usually does, got on the subject of religion. I, of course, tried to defend Christianity, and we were arguing—or rather it was no argument, but sneering on one side—till eleven o'clock. He treats the Christian religion with the most supreme contempt, and you may judge of the pain it gives one feeling the greatest reverence towards Christianity to hear it and the Bible laughed at. R—has read a good deal among the infidel writers, but I have read more on the Evidences of Christianity than he has, and, therefore, his assertions were less dangerous to me than they would be to many others; but how melancholy it is that a man should thus try to ruin his fellow-men! I have felt badly ever since. What would become of our happiness, the confidence we have in the death and resurrection of our Saviour being taken away? Thanks to a merciful God, no earthly power can destroy the ground on which that confidence rests; and how delightful it is to the heart, when distressed, to trust in the sure promises of a religion whose evidences have stood the test of eighteen centuries, and still convince every fair mind! . . . ". . . After no little bustle and show I sit down to write again. It is getting late on Monday evening. The examinations did not begin to-day, as I had hoped, on account of the necessity for a review by General Macomb, and because the Board of Visitors had to be organized. "You ask me to give my recollections of your father as I knew him when associated with him as professor in Bristol College. . . . It was in the fall of 1833 that I first became acquainted with your father. He had not been long out of West Point, where, I believe, he had been an assistant professor. He bore then the same character he always sustained. I was struck with his military bearing, his firmness and decision of purpose combined with gentleness. He always showed great ability in the discussion of any debatable point, and a willingness to be set right if in error. I have never met with any one so far removed from anything like guile; so generous was he that his generosity was taken advantage of by those who were so disposed. As a professor I need say nothing as to his competency and ability as a teacher. He brought with him from West Point a reputation which was of great service to a young college. He introduced something of a military discipline, which was much needed. ". . . The bill chartering us as a college has become a law, and it is pronounced by the honorable Legislature of Pennsylvania illegal to call the said college by any name other than 'Bristol College.' This, of course, raises us in importance, and, it may be, increases our responsibility. But the distressing derangement of money-matters throughout the United States will injure us, we fear, by preventing the friends of the Church from aiding in the means of enlarging our plan of operations as soon as they would otherwise have done. All this is in the hands of God. He will direct that which is best for His own honor. . . . In reply to your queries about the appropriation of my time: From five to six, dressing, etc.; from six to seven, attending one of my classes; after breakfast, until nine, I have generally been employed in sweeping, dusting, and fixing the rooms,—Gurdon assisting me; from nine to ten, a class; from ten to twelve, in the Blue Room;* * The large study-room. after dinner, till three, reading and writing; from three to four, Greek; from four to five, in the Blue Room; at night, reading. The two hours in the Blue Room in the morning I have devoted to Biot;† † French treatise on analytical geometry. that in the afternoon to preparing my lessons for the next day. My reading I wish to make effectual to the great object before me. To this end it will be necessary for me to get speedily some of the books recommended by the last General Convention. Many of them I can borrow. Ecclesiastical history, and profane, too, I must first cultivate diligently, and this shall now be my business. . . . I have to-day been much struck with the character of Abraham, sketched by Dr. Clarke in his Commentary,—the undoubting confidence with which he believed God, and the ready, cheerful obedience he habitually rendered when called upon; his courage and generosity and faithfulness. Let us study his conduct under the different circumstances of life, and exert ourselves to live like him. . . . I intended to have told you before,—I have made you responsible for a debt of twelve dollars. You recollect the Missionary Society. When the subscription-plan was arranged and presented I subscribed a dollar a month for myself, and then proceeded to write your name pledging the same sum for you likewise. Can you pay by knitting? or in what way? I fear I may have put you into a difficulty." "I am much harassed by a sort of sinking of hope, calling upon me for vigorous effort in every way, by prayer and self-examination, and a wielding of the sword of the spirit and active exercise. Let us remember the encouragement given by our Saviour to the prayers of two or three who shall agree as touching what they shall ask, and pray with me for supplies of grace and strength and Divine wisdom in all things, bringing peace and hope and devoted purpose in every duty before me. . . . As to being happy, there is at all times the delightful reflection that I can pray, happy or not, and, provided I am still left to do my duties aright, it matters little in the great account whether I was or was not allowed a tranquil course. Besides religious comfort, I apply the maxim by which Dr. Johnson used to regulate his gloomy moods, 'When solitary be not idle, and when idle be not solitary.'" ". . . I have been to church, and can sincerely say, in the psalmist's language, 'I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go up into the house of the Lord.' How appropriate, how solemn, how delightful our service! Alone, and thrown more ùpon a personal and hearty intercourse with our God and Saviour, I feel it more: the service then seems to me a sort of bond, connecting the devotions of my own soul with those of the Church and with the precious aspirations of my own family; and I do not think I was ever blessed with a more delightful frame than when joining in it to-day. The same gentleman preached of whom I spoke in my last, Mr. Motte, and an admirable discourse it was. I was surprised to find the congregation so large. The church is small, it is true, but it was as full as it could be, and there were a good many young men." ". . . After writing on Sunday, I had to go to church in the afternoon, and then Mr. Motte invited me to take tea with him. I breakfasted this morning with a Mr. Lewis, who did himself the honor of tracing a relationship with me. Afterwards transacted some business before leaving the village of Oxford, and then, with two of my subs, mounted on our baggage-wagon and came out here, six or seven miles, where the rest of our party were at work, and here I am in a private house by the road-side, where we have been hospitably entertained by a kind old Scotchman. We go on rapidly, and soon the party will be as far as Roxborough, by or before which, however, I shall be on my way towards the mountains. ". . . Here I am, quartered by polite invitation, at the house of General C—, whom I met in Norfolk. I must write on Sunday, for if I do not, there will be no opportunity of sending a letter before Wednesday, and by that time I expect to be far away from Danville. There is no Episcopal church here, and our communion is hardly recognized in this large county. Two good-looking dissenting churches are, however, open this morning, —the Presbyterian and the Baptist,—the former of which I wish to attend by and by." "My beloved Wife,—Early this Monday morning I have risen to write to you. Yesterday I was permitted to enjoy a great privilege in attending a place where prayer is wont to be made, and where the truth, as it is in Jesus, was declared, though in a homely way. Just on the other (east) side of the mountain, in Montgomery County, there was to be a Baptist meeting, and as it was the only place of public worship near, though some seven or eight miles off, Mr. Barberin, at my invitation, and myself determined to ride thither. And I was amply repaid for the trouble of descending and reascending the mountain. ". . . Mr. Cunningham and myself rode over the mountains from our work ten miles last night, most of the distance by moonlight. I wish you and others of my dear friends could witness the scene through which we passed. I cannot pretend to give you the slightest idea of its mingled grandeur and beauty. Imagine us, after nightfall, traversing the mountain defiles. On either hand the tall hills frowning darkly upon us below, the little mountain stream dashing in its wildness, and making an incessant sound to break away the solemn stillness of the road, while here and there the prevailing darkness was relieved by the moonbeams finding their way through openings in the trees, now illuminating the road and hill-sides, now glittering on the foaming cascades. I never saw anything like it. And then I thought, 'Why is this beautiful to me? Why does it fill me with awe and delight? 'Tis the goodness of God; 'tis an evidence of His benevolence in creating things so lovely, and endowing me with a sensibility for what He has made beautiful and sublime, and allowing me opportunities for enjoying them.' . . . What distresses me often is a heavy sense of my unfitness, through a depraved and unsanctified heart, for the sacred and responsible office of the ministry. I have come to the conclusion, years ago, that God required of me to preach the Gospel, and I think myself unfit for it. You cannot conceive how I suffer at times from this; and were it not that I know the Lord is sufficient for all things, and that He can, and often does, use the weakest and most unworthy of His servants to promote the salvation of men, I could not but shrink from what is before me. As it is, however, I try to obey Him in casting all my care upon Him, with the earnest prayer that He will either keep me back, should He not fit me for His work, or that He will be pleased to pour upon me His enlightening and sanctifying grace, to prepare me for a useful course of ministerial labor. I often think of the character and history of St. Peter, and find comfort in comparing my own character with his,—so far as I may with reverence. He was impetuous yet ardent, bold yet unsteady, confident of fidelity yet weak to shame in the time of trial. All these failings, you have no need of being told, lie at the bottom of my character, and most of their opposite virtues are there too; then I think how true, how faithful, how honored he afterwards was, and it animates me to hope for such supplies of Divine grace as will enable me to be true and faithful; and if it please Him, I would serve, honored also by usefulness in my future life. Join me often in praying for this. . . . My health has improved greatly since leaving the heat and marshes of Carolina. While in Danville my liver was in a bad state, and there was no little threatening of disease, but it is all gone, and I never was in better condition. It is a great delight to read the anecdotes of the dear children." ". . . As you may suppose, I was very anxious about you in your long stage-ride on Saturday, and but for the tranquillizing effect of trust in God as your guardian and guide, should have suffered from corroding anxiety. You must have had a most uncomfortable day of it, and yesterday was worse. We could not venture to the Seminary in the morning on account of the rain, but by the time for night service it had cleared up, and we ploughed through the mud. We are all well, but how we get along without you is another question. I shall try to carry on everything as usual, but that is easier undertaken than done. Saturday I heard Sue her Greek, made her read in Rollin to me, heard Lucy read in the prayer-book, and then made them both spell all the difficult words in the Psalm. Yesterday I read the Lessons with Sue and made Lucy again read the Psalms. To-day, Monday, having gone to Alexandria soon after breakfast, and having to take an algebra class immediately upon getting back, and that followed by geography and the little boys' Latin grammar, I have not yet been able to attend to the little girls' lessons, but shall-do so. They seem quite happy. The household concerns get on pretty well. I gave directions this morning to have some of the bedding attended to, and when the butcher came, directed him to bring out what is wanted until next Sunday. I ordered out meal and herrings this morning. I am thus particular because you will like to hear everything, and because I shall want your advice from time to time. R. remarked just now, 'What a difference it makes to be in a house without any lady!' and all have this feeling." "To Rev. W. N. Pendleton, Episcopal High School of Virginia: ". . . I am enabled to spend a half-hour to-night writing to you because Joseph Trapnell preached for me, and I am consequently less fatigued than usual. You will like to know that the children are all well and that we are comfortably settled. They arrived yesterday at three o'clock, dusty and tired, and you can't tell how disappointed I was, what a shock it was to my whole being, when, on getting to the stage, I discovered you were not with them. But not a moment did I regret that you stayed, save that my selfishness shrinks from a protracted separation. I felt that for you to remain with your papa and the watchers by him was right, and by all means would I have you discharge what on such occasions is both a duty and a privilege, in sharing the cares of the family and soothing the sufferer's pains. ". . . To-day, in looking over the letters which have accumulated in my absence, I find yours of the 5th, which I have read, and also the sermon,—and the most extraordinary sermon it is, in some respects, that I have ever read. But for the implication of a particular congregation,—which would not be right, and with which the public should not interfere,—I should like to see it stereotyped, so that it could be had in any quantity, everywhere, for the edification of the many who need. Certainly it would tend to 'Edification;' for I perceive the temple in Frederick is to be built, though, like David, you will not build it; but, like him, you will be remembered for having laid up abundantly for some future Solomon. ". . . Yesterday afternoon and to-day I have been very busy attending at the Sunday-School Union and calling on the leading clergy in regard to my work. They are very kind and favorable thus far, though it is not the season for presenting the subject, as most of them are just on the eve of having confirmations. I may possibly preach two or three times to-morrow, though I am only positively engaged to Mr. Suddards. "My dear Son,—On the other page I have put the problems, simplified as well as I could manage in the little time I have had. I hope you can understand them without much trouble. And I do not care about your giving any considerable time to them, or to any of these lessons at present. As the weather may permit, busy yourself out-of-doors, with the hot-bed and other work in the garden. Nor do I mean that either to interfere with your play. ". . . You will be anxious to hear from me as soon as possible. But before I say anything about myself or things around me I must speak of you all. I cannot hear how you are for some days, and am unavoidably anxious, though I intrust you all to God in the hope that grace, mercy, and peace may keep you. My main fear is about Martha" (a servant); "her headache may prove incipient typhoid; still, as Lucy did not have it she may escape. . . . To go on about myself, etc. The cars travelled very fast between New York and New Haven, gradually emptying themselves in the towns and villages along the route. It is almost a continuous village street the whole way. Country in the main rugged, and perhaps less productively cultivated than I expected, yet pervaded by a pleasant air of enterprise and thrift, as we have always thought of New England. As long as light lasted I lived by my eyes; afterwards a pleasant-looking gentleman took the seat by me and we entered into conversation, soon getting on the Northern and Southern question. He was very earnest antislavery, though quite as earnest against the radical abolitionists. I, however, set the case before him according to my own convictions, and apparently succeeded in modifying his ideas; and when we reached Boston he thanked me for the pleasant chat, begged to know my name, and gave his own as Mr. Edmund Dwight, son of the Rev. Dr. Dwight, of one of the American Missionary Boards. "My dear little Girl,—As I have not written to you yet, a half-hour shall be spent this morning in writing what you may claim as your own letter, though it will have to be read to you by your mamma. You see by the heading of the page where I am. A letter to your mamma from Cleveland, Ohio, will have let you know that I was to come on here Monday. I did so, and got to my room about eight o'clock in the evening. At night the moon was shining very brightly, and I walked out with a party whom I accidentally met, and we got a tolerable moonlight view of the wonderful Falls. But it was two hours after, when everybody else was asleep, that I got a view by myself that was altogether the most wonderful thing that I ever expect to see. My rough sketch will help you to understand something of it. I stood on the American side, when all living things were as still as death. Before me was the great, dashing cataract, gleaming in the beams of the moon; below, the gulf into which the waters are poured, sending up its ever-ascending cloud of spray; under and around me the trembling earth, whose very rocks are made to vibrate by the mighty power of the fall; in my ear the thunder of its roar; and above me the vast arch of heaven, clear, quiet, and solemn, with three objects of surpassing beauty conspicuous,—the silvery moon, the planet Jupiter, and, I think, Saturn. Your mamma will tell you about these, and all the hard words I use. And you can form some notion, young as you are, how all that I saw and heard made me feel at such a time. It was, I suppose, something as the Jews felt when they saw and heard the wonderful things in God's presence at Mount Sinai. Something as the disciples felt when our Saviour said to the winds and waves, 'Peace, be still; and there was a great calm.' Something as we shall feel when, as I trust we shall, we enter heaven, and look upon the glorious throne, and listen to the songs of praise." "My dear Daughter,—You are to be in Baltimore on Monday, I think, and it will be pleasant to you to find there a letter from us. That this may be it should go to-morrow morning, and I therefore indulge myself by beginning to-night. You will be a little surprised to see that I am at home, whereas my purpose was to have gone to-day, on my way to Orange Court-House. A threatening change in the weather this morning, superadded to the fact that I was not quite as well as usual, owing, perhaps, to the regret, dissipation, etc., all combined, connected with giving you up, satisfied me that my duty lay here rather than away, under the circumstances. I therefore wrote to Mr. Davis excusing myself, and sending apologies to the kind friends who had solicited the visit. "My dear Doctor,—I write a line to yourself, as I am doing to other friends in the Northern States, to beg that you will say and do what you can towards such expression and action in your section of the country as may restore to our people the friendly spirit which mad abolitionism has so sorely revolutionized. "My dear Daughter,—It has been nearly a month since you wrote to me on the recurrence of my birthday, and I have not before been well able to reply. First, I was using up as much writing-time as possible during the absence of the boys on account of small—pox, getting ready my first volume for the press; and when that was achieved, Sandie gave me quite a tug at another important work,—viz., to meet some serious questions in his mind in regard to his own spiritual progress and on certain issues respecting the great baptismal controversy. He has so much to do "Reverend and dear Sir,—Your daughter and her husband reached here yesterday, and brought with them your book, which I have devoured with a good appetite, though not chewing, after English fashion, so as to digest it well. Having read so much on the subjects treated of in the last few years, a cursory glance was sufficient for much of it. I am much pleased with it,—more than I expected,—and consider it a valuable addition to our religious literature. Dr. Cabell's book on the 'Unity of the Human Race' will be much strengthened by one of your articles. Your article on the 'Monuments of Lost Races' is very interesting. That on the age of the human race will occasion some diversity of opinion, and will frighten some good, pious, and sensible persons. Though I think you have, with your views, managed it with great propriety and ability, yet I could wish that you had spoken in stronger terms of doubt about Bunsen's views of Egyptian chronology. You seem to assume, in one or two passages, the truth of his extension of the post-diluvian period to nearly four thousand years before Christ. The difference of several hundred years between the chronologies of the Pentateuchs—the Samaritan and Hebrew versions—is as much as most of us are prepared to bear. Nevertheless, you may be right, and I would not have you burnt as a heretic for leaving it an undecided question. It becomes us to be very cautious and modest in this age of theological daring. . . . In going over your book I have turned down many pages, to which I wish to refer in completing my own book and in order to impress some things more deeply on my mind. I wish, therefore, you would send another copy to Mr. Lee, with his name written in it by yourself, and charge the same to me, with some others,—viz., one to my son Richard, one to Bishop Lee, of Delaware, one to Bishop Burgess, one to Slaughter, and to such others as you may choose, to the amount of twenty dollars, including postage, charging them to me, I paying you when we meet. I shall send a few lines to the Protestant Churchman about the book. "One of my objects, my darling, is that we may know exactly whether there is any risk to your health from over-study and confinement. Mary G—insists that yon task yourself too closely, and Mrs. G—thinks that both Mary and yourself had lost flesh, strength, and complexion when she saw you ten days ago. I am very much afraid of this. Your system is, I fear, rather too much like a prison-life at the Institute. That you should all reasonably improve the time and cultivate your minds with suitable studies is right enough. But it is equally right, certainly, that you should have a fair proportion of freedom and exercise. And although I like you, my dear, to get pretty well the lessons you undertake, I do not want you to have so many things as to worry you. If you find that your time is too much cut up, or that you feel tired, fagged, worn down, day after day, speak freely about it to Mrs. Phillips, and to him, if you can get an opportunity. It is an oversight, I am sure, which they will take pains to have corrected when attention is called to it. At all events, never give any of your recreation hours to books. Rather let the lessons go. Laugh, run, skip about, amuse yourself just as much as you can, in all the time allowed for it. Snuff all the fresh air possible. See how much enjoyment you can get and give, and remember, I regard it as not a whit more your duty to acquire Latin, French, etc., than it is to improve in strength, weight, and color. I had rather a thousand times see you moderately supplied with tongues, and active, cheerful, healthy, than to find you learned as Cromwell's 'Latin secretary,' and able to parlez vous with the savants of Paris, but pale, shrivelled, wasted, feeble, and broken down for life. "My dear Papa,—For two letters I am now indebted to you, and have intended answering them for several days. The former I am peculiarly obliged to you for, and trust the advice you gave has been of real service to me. I felt that perhaps there was some measure of apathy growing up within me in reference to my spiritual state, and that letter with its kind and affectionate warning came just in time to arouse me to redoubled diligence and prayerfulness, and now I hope that I have again drawn nearer to my Saviour. Though there is some danger, as there is and ever will be in all situations of spiritual declension, that danger is far less here than might be supposed. The weekly prayer-meetings, in which we all participate, the regular intercourse of the Christian Association, and, above all, the active work in which we engage, these, in connection with the moral and religious tone pervading all here, tend to diminish in a great degree the force of the temptations lying in every young man's path, and render it comparatively easier to pursue an outwardly correct course, and be consistent, than to be otherwise. And my association with Jim Howard and Randolph McKim, and others of the most earnest type of Christians, and all looking forward to the same ultimate work in life, is of such a character as to act as a safeguard against letting the mere intellectual development usurp the first place. And I trust that, by the blessing of God, although, of course, more time must be devoted to the pursuit of secular knowledge, I am now seeking and shall ever be enabled to 'seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness.' "My dear Son,—As I may miss you, I leave this letter. Serious as is the state of things in the country, and imperative as may be the call of duty to brave everything in repelling wrong,— at a day not far distant,—I am very clear that your duty now is to quiet your mind to the utmost, and to finish your course at the University. God, my dear son, indicates this for you in the circumstances of the case. It is all-important that you secure the advantages of the A.M. And I express it with all the emphasis of my judgment, and of my own concern alike for your happiness and for the interest we all have in your career, as my decided expectation that you will brace yourself for the full measure of effort that may be needed for your degree. Say not, my son, that you cannot command your faculties under the excitements of the time. Why, if you cannot bring mental agitation into subjection for so important a purpose when God directs, as I am sure He does, will you not be too much flurried for calm endurance in a hundred ways for the trying times we expect? "I think it right to record the considerations which influence me to accept as duty the command of the artillery company at this place, tendered me this morning. "My Beloved Wife,—I write you again a hurried line. You see we have changed our camp to a better place. I am perfectly well, never in better health, and in all respects comfortable. We have to be very vigilant, surrounded as we are by enemies, —traitors in Virginia and others across the Potomac. . . . My great motive is to do my duty, honor God, and do what good service I can in the double capacity of soldier and minister of Christ. I have arranged for general prayer in camp every evening under the open sky in good weather. Edwin Lee has his commission to-day, and is summoned to Harper's Ferry. The other half of my company, with Bowyer Brockenborough, is, I hear, sent to Shepherdstown." ". . . Early in the morning, after a delightful rest on the grass under some trees in a grove by the road-side, with Sandie lying next me, I write you a hasty line. On Saturday morning, 15th, we evacuated Harper's Ferry, everything valuable having been removed and those articles destroyed that might serve the enemy. That night we encamped two miles west of Charlestown. Next morning we marched towards Martinsburg. My own prayers and those with the company the only notice of the Sabbath, so far as I know. This army is divided into brigades: Jackson has command of the Virginia brigade, and my battery belongs to it. Of course we have the post of danger, of defence, and of honorable duty in general. The college company is in Winchester. They will join our brigade. Sandie and Edwin Lee are both well; the former drills at the guns with the privates. Edwin, as Jackson's aide, has much to do." ". . . It is now just six, and I have had reveille roll-call and prayers, have shaved, dressed, etc., and had breakfast! Pretty good, is it not? Sandie is asked for by Jackson to attend to the ammunition of this brigade, so that he will not remain with the battery." ". . . I had hardly given my letter of Tuesday into the hands of the messenger when Colonel Jackson rode up to my quasi shelter and desired me to have the battery immediately ready to advance. Within fifteen minutes one regiment, Colonel Harper's, and our battery were marching forward. Information had reached Colonel Jackson that the enemy had forded the Potomac within the neck, two miles below Williamsport, and were advancing on us in great force. We proceeded some three miles to meet them; Colonel Jackson wishing, however, rather to feel how strong they were and to give them a little check than to give them battle in full. For the latter we were much too far from the main body under General Johnston. To prevent our risking too much, three of the guns were halted on the road two miles below our encampment and only one taken on a mile farther. There the enemy were seen. Colonel Harper's regiment immediately deployed in the field on the right of the turnpike, to engage the skirmishers spread out there by the enemy. Colonel Jackson, with his staff, rode back to the point in the road occupied by my gun, and directed me to withdraw it farther to the rear, to a point better situated. Meantime the enemy began to ply their artillery with great vigor, firing around our little force a number of balls and shells. We, however, quietly took our position and awaited the best moment for opening fire with our single gun. That moment arrived when I saw a body of horse, which seemed to be a squadron of cavalry about to charge, on the turnpike about a half-mile in front of our position. At that body I instantly had the gun directed, with careful instructions how it should be aimed. In another instant the messenger of death was speeding on its way. The effect was obvious and decided. Not a man or a horse remained standing in the road, nor did we see them again. . . . Our next shot was aimed with equal care at one of their cannon in a field on the left of the road. The effect was scarcely less. The gunners scattered, and I am sure that gun fired no more. Meanwhile the balls whizzed by us with tremendous force and startling music. . . . In the fight of the day we were all graciously preserved. Two men only were killed and some eight or ten wounded. On the other side we hear of a good many killed, besides fifty-five prisoners taken by Colonel Stuart with his cavalry. "The commanding general directs the regiments to be informed, immediately after they have left the city, that General Beauregard is being attacked by overwhelming forces. He has been ordered by the government to his assistance, and is now marching across the Blue Ridge upon the enemy. ". . . Ere this reaches you you will, of course, have heard of our great victory on Sunday. But whether you will have heard that none of yours were killed or hurt is another matter. It is true that pa and Ned Lee and myself are all safe and sound. General Jackson's finger was broken. The only injury I sustained was a slight wound in the leg while in a charge of Colonel Cummings's regiment on a battery of rifled guns, which it took. Army of the Shenandoah,—Batteries of Colonel Pendleton, Imboden, Alburtis, Stanard, Beckham, p. 569. "Sir,—You will please proceed to Richmond without delay, and there be governed by the verbal instructions you have received. "Colonel,—I received duly your note in relation to additional artillery for this army, and asking if you should continue to attend to that service or return. Our cannon ammunition is all exhausted except six-pounder. . . . Most of the very small stock of ammunition on hand when you left has been issued, and, in fact, I may say that the stock is entirely exhausted. . . . If the army had to take the field just now the scarcity of ammunition would be alarming. Send eight hundred James's shot as soon as possible. We are unable to fill requisitions for fixed twelve-pounder howitzers, shrapnel and shell, or cartridges for James's or Archer's projectiles. "Colonel,—The general commanding directs me to say that he wishes you to get the men as well as the guns for Colonel Stuart, as also the harness for the horses, and not to depend upon the harness sent to Manassas. Men are wanted now for several of the batteries, and Colonel Stuart has none to spare for that purpose. ". . . Sandie and I came up to Manassas Saturday and on to Fairfax Sunday morning. I could not preach that morning, though it was allowed me to get to camp in time to attend the closing service of a Methodist chaplain attached to Colonel Cummings's regiment. In the afternoon I preached at General Jackson's head-quarters. . . . I am here now to take command of the artillery camp. It will be close to General Johnston's head-quarters,—about a mile and a half from General Jackson's brigade,—and I shall be very busy getting things in order. . . . Camp-life is getting more trying as it becomes cold. These nights are very sharp in an open tent. The order now is to have a large fire before the tent and to leave the front open all night. The poor fellows who have but one blanket must find it chilly enough. I sleep in General Jackson's tent on a camp-bed, which is tolerably comfortable. ". . . I have now five artillery companies in the corps, encamped just around my tent, having some six hundred men and four hundred and fifty horses, with twenty-eight cannon. Several more will be here in a few days. It makes a very busy scene. The battle we are looking for seems drawing nearer. Yesterday afternoon we saw in the distance among the clouds the enemy's balloon taking observations of our camps, etc." ". . . Until two to-day I was in bed and really very sick, but it was from the effect of medicine which I took early this morning. Since dinner I have been more like my well self; had my horse brought out and rode an hour and a half. The afternoon was pleasant, the air delightful, and I felt like an uncaged bird. The yellow has hardly abated any, but I feel so renovated I will hope for certain relief within a few days. If to-morrow is bright, I shall ride out early in the morning and be in the saddle most of the day. It will do me a great deal of good I hope. My camp needs my presence. Indeed, it is getting time to change its position, and I mean in the morning to look for a good place not far off." ". . . Last night I wrote a hurried note to your mamma, telling her that I had been quite sick again. To-night I have to tell how much better I am. Although it has been quite cold and very windy, I have ridden on horseback many hours and been in camp all the rest of the day. "Your letter was an acceptable Christmas gift. I have been thinking for some time of writing to you about the very topics of your letter. I fear much demoralization (in its proper sense) from the war, though it may be that permanent good can only result from a protracted struggle and much suffering on our part. It is the Lord who is ordering all things for His glory, and we must not only submit, but approve and prefer. . . . There is a strong persuasion that our enemies will seek the possession of our part of the valley, in order to build up the railroad and dams which are so necessary to furnish supplies for Washington and Baltimore. In order to do this they must occupy Winchester and hold it during the war. Already they possess Romney with an army of perhaps ten thousand troops. . . . May God preserve you both in soul and body, and make you an instrument of much good in your present position! ". . . We broke up at our cabins on Saturday morning, but did not really set out on our march until Sunday morning. Then, instead of the happy Communion Sabbath I had hoped, we moved off on the turnpike towards Gainesville, thence to Warrenton. And all hands arrived there by ten P.M. I had all arrangements made for forage, adjusted all the artillery, had guards posted, made the men comfortable, and then went in to Mr. Barten's.* * The Episcopal rector in Warrenton. They were exceedingly kind, gave us a good supper, and afterwards a most delightful bed. Monday morning it was quite rainy, but after a very early breakfast I sallied out, and got all things ready for an early start. By eight we were off towards Culpeper Court-House. The troops with us were General G. W. Smith's division and General Longstreet's, with several regiments of cavalry. At Warrenton General Longstreet branched off for Culpeper Court-House, whither, as the first point of rendezvous, we are all bound. General Hill had left Leesburg two days before, and is also en route to join us via Warrenton. Jackson takes the track towards Staunton or comes this way, I don't know which. Monday we made only eight miles, coming by the Fauquier Warm Sulphur Springs,—the delay occurred at a weak bridge across the north branch of the Rappahannock. General Smith feared it would not bear our artillery. My judgment was different. I believed it strong enough. We tried it, and got over safely, but with the loss of several hours. "My dear General,—I hoped to find you at my room on my return, that I might have the pleasure to hand you the enclosed commission as brigadier-general. Allow me to congratulate you, and wish you great good fortune and success." Sir,—Congress has provided by law for the appointment of field-officers of artillery in the provisional army in proportion to the number of guns in each command. You are respectfully requested to report as early as convenient the number of guns in each of the three armies under your command, and a list of the artillery officers in each army in the order of their merit, so as to assist the President in doing justice to your meritorious subordinates by proper promotion. It would be agreeable to us to have a like list prepared separately by the commanders of each of the three armies in relation to the officers under his command, so as to compare the estimates made of their respective merits, and thus increase the probability of doing exact justice to all. The Congress of the Confederate States of America do enact, That the President be, and is hereby authorized to appoint, by and with the advice and consent of Congress, in the provisional army and in the volunteer corps, officers of artillery, above the rank of captain, without reference to the number of batteries under the actual command of the officers so appointed, not to exceed in number, however, one brigadier-general for every eighty guns, one colonel for forty guns, one lieutenant-colonel for every twenty-four guns, and one major for every sixteen guns. ". . . Under request from General Johnston, I visited York yesterday for the purpose of judging what artillery arrangements should be made there, in addition to those already provided. General Hill, formerly of Washington College, is in command there. My instructions were to confer with him and learn his views as well as form my own. We went together round the works, and examined the locality in general. It is wholly changed from what you knew in childhood: cut all to pieces with ditches, embankments, rifle-pits, etc., etc., and with heavy cannon bristling all over,—the old redoubts, etc., almost entirely obliterated. The old house* * General Nelson's house, Mrs. Pendleton's birthplace. still stands,—used as hospital for the post. This morning I am going again to General Johnston, whose head-quarters are about a mile from my camp, to report the result of my observations yesterday, and afterwards shall visit some other parts of our line to see what else may be done in my department. As a general thing, there is little or no opportunity for artillery in this region. Still, we must look out for what we can do in an emergency." ". . . Friday we began to fall back, a general evacuation of that line being determined on,—very wisely, as I think. I was sent to Williamsburg with my command, and reached there by sunset that day. We were to have moved on for New Kent Court-House next morning, but unlooked-for delays occurred in some movements, so that the general operation by the army was deferred till Friday night, and we remained in Williamsburg all day Saturday. Sunday morning General Johnston reached there, and most of the troops were on the way. He therefore directed me to proceed some twelve or fourteen miles. I did so, and by the evening, when we encamped at Hickory Neck church, we heard that the enemy had come upon the rear-guard left in Williamsburg, and had been gallantly repulsed. Monday morning a division of the army reached me, and again under orders I moved on through a drenching rain and terrible roads, reaching a little place called Barhamsville. There we learned of a fight again, all day Monday, between a pretty strong force of ours under General Longstreet and a large body of the enemy at Williamsburg,—the enemy being again driven off, and losing to us some ten pieces of artillery and several hundred prisoners. Our own loss, too, was heavy. Williams Wickham was painfully, we hope not fatally, wounded. Of course General Johnston that night carried on his plan of withdrawing his forces. And, as the roads did not admit of hauling the wounded, he was obliged to leave most of them in Williamsburg. ". . . We have been striving to get out of the Peninsula trap, and have so far succeeded. All the army is near here." . . . ". . . I trust my letters reach you more regularly than yours do me. None from home of later date than April 26. I fear it is owing to hinderance on the mail line towards Staunton; though, thank God, Jackson has been favored with a victory beyond the valley, which will, I hope, compel the Yankee force between Staunton and Winchester to take the back track. For ourselves, we are all the time under arms expecting a battle. But thus far, as to the army in general, the fight comes not. The affairs which have occurred between portions of it and various bodies of McClellan's host have resulted in defeat to the latter, and must, I suppose, tend to depress the spirit of his troops. . . . Day before yesterday I was requested to march from my camp near Chickahominy bridge, a few miles down, so as to be within supporting distance where a fight might take place. We accordingly came to this point, and kept line-of-battle order all that afternoon, the enemy being understood to be advancing. Nothing, however, came of it. We lodged quietly that night and kept the Sabbath rest yesterday. I had, moreover, the privilege of preaching at eleven to the largest congregation beyond comparison I ever addressed,—perhaps the largest I ever saw,—on the fact mentioned in Acts v., near the close, that the apostles, when beaten, etc., 'rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for the name of Christ.' I never saw a more attentive congregation. The Lord was with us, I trust, and the services not in vain. The day passed happily, and was closed by a sort of family worship for my staff. . . Dear Sandie and Edwin Lee I have not mentioned in connection with. Jackson's late fight, but from the published lists of killed and wounded I am encouraged to hope they are both uninjured, and for this my thanks have gone up to heaven. John is promoted, —made major. I have asked for his late place for W'm Meade." ". . . Rainy and disagreeable as it was yesterday, I had to be out most of the day substituting my own energy for somebody else's that ought to have been exercised in getting ready for action the redoubts around Richmond. These are very well made and strong, but they are not ready, needing a good deal of work in adjusting platforms, mounting guns, etc. Generals Johnston and Smith asked me to take the supervision, because, as they said, I have the energetic industry requisite. You ask about my duties as brigadier-general of artillery. Besides all I had as colonel, I have now general responsibilities as the chief artillery officer of the Confederacy. This matter of the redoubts is an instance; then there are questions from the whole artillery referred to me, so that I have pretty full employment. . . . Nine more batteries have reported to me, so that I have now nineteen with some eighty-odd guns. They will make some noise in a battle if nothing more. Things look towards a great fight in a day or two." "I liked very much General Lee's tone and bearing in the conference I had with him evening before last. His head seems clear and his heart strong. Few men have ever borne a greater weight than that which now rests upon his shoulders. Of course we must contemplate the possibility of our eventually failing in the difficult task here. It may not prove practicable for our army to accomplish the double object of protecting Richmond and beating McClellan. If this be concluded, and we have to make choice between giving up Richmond and giving McClellan great advantage over us, perhaps it may be the dictate of wisdom to give up the capital for a while, that we may secure a good chance for whipping the Yankee army and striking some other heavy blows. You must not, therefore, lose heart should anything of this kind happen. I have not the slightest intimation that it is meditated by anybody; it is the suggestion of my own mind. Looking at the conditions of the case as I do, I cannot close my eyes to the possibilities. "Our own movements and those of the enemy here are to a great extent hindered by the extreme wet. More water on the earth I have hardly ever seen than now, and the soil around Richmond is of a character rendered peculiarly miry after such rains. Horses and riders are often in danger of becoming involved in some slough beyond extrication in the fields and swamps all around the city, and as for carriages of any kind, only here and there can they get along. Artillery is with difficulty moved at all, and by no possibility can it be manœuvred to any extent on a battle-field anywhere near. Still, more or less firing goes on every day between some batteries the enemy have in position and certain of ours also placed where they may occasionally pop at the enemy. In this sort of random skirmishing I take no part. My work is superintending such preparations of the general artillery force as may make it most effective in an extended fight and commanding my own reserve corps. I am under more than usual anxiety for our gallant general and army near Winchester, and for our dear ones with them. Their exploits have really been glorious. With breathless eagerness shall I await the next tidings from them. . . . "You know, I suppose, much more of Jackson's continued successes against Fremont, Shields, etc., than I do. I almost dread to hear lest grief should come with the particulars of victory. Still, look up and commit all to infinite wisdom and goodness. . . . Everything is getting enormously high in Richmond, —bacon sixty cents a pound! butter from one dollar to three dollars a pound! etc. If we don't fight soon the people will have to decamp for subsistence. The army seems to be pretty well fed. . . . On Sunday I had service three several times,—at nine, with Cutts's battalion of my corps, near my head-quarters; at half-past ten, with William Nelson's, more than a mile north of this; at twelve, with Major Richardson's, a mile and a half west of William Nelson's. How about our church in Lexington? Any chance for services at any time? How I would delight to discharge my proper duties there again! And how I long for you, and home, and all there!" "Early this Tuesday morning I write, after having finished my devotions, but before the rest are ready for breakfast. Three of your letters have reached me. Thanks to our Heavenly Father for all the comforts you still enjoy. Dear Sandie and Edwin Lee and Everard Meade and Mr. Allen are also safe thus far through all the conflicts. Sandie, I learned last night, had a narrow escape in one of the battles, a shell passing so close as to stun him for a few moments. This should remind us more distinctly of the exposure and the special protection. . . . You ask me to tell you all I do. This is scarcely possible where there are so many things to be attended to. I rise very near sunrise, having first spent a good long while in silent meditation and prayer in bed. I then dress as quickly as possible, fix my bed, and arrange such little personal matters for the day; then read my psalms and chapters, and by that time breakfast is ready. Immediately after, I sign side-leaves, discharges, passes, etc., and issue such orders as are then needed for the day. Such duties being attended to, I ride in some direction, seeing that the batteries are rightly adjusted or calling to confer with some one or other of the generals about matters pertaining to my special service. After dinner one kind of business, then another, claims attention, and so night finds me pretty tired. Soon after nine I have prayers, and we all get to bed and are asleep in a marvellously short time. I have a nice military family,—not very small. ". . . The tedious duty to which I referred just now was inspecting a number of heavy-artillery companies in the different redoubts around Richmond, to ascertain which of them ought to be retained in commission and which broken up, their officers reduced to the ranks, and their men distributed among other companies. The Secretary of War requested me to preside in the needful but thankless work, and I have been at it all day. To-morrow I have to be engaged in a similar duty with some raw light-artillery companies. If I can break up four or five of these light-artillery companies, men enough will be distributable to fill up most of the veteran companies whose ranks have been thinned by the severities of long and arduous service. . . . It is now, my daughter, five o'clock in the morning. I am refreshed with sleep and have spent a good while—ever since early dawn— in meditation and prayer. Instead of getting up to write, I prefer for this time sitting up in my camp-cot and finishing my letter. . . . I had a laborious day yesterday. After needful public duty in the early morning, I held service and preached to a part of my command, half a mile off, from nine to half-past ten; congregation large and attentive. That service over, I rode to the Old Church, on Church Hill, and preached for Dr. Norwood. There, too, freedom was given me, and the people were very attentive. After dinner I rode to William Nelson's camp and officiated for that battalion, bringing the day to near sunset. Hardly anybody in the State preached to more people than it was my privilege to do. It is good for me,—I trust it is for others,—for me thus to exercise my sacred calling while occupying this strange position. Soldiers come to hear me much more freely than they seem to do the chaplains. "Before setting out for the duties of the day I take a moment to let you know that I am still safe and sound, and that our cause is also thus far in good condition. The contest begun about three o'clock Thursday afternoon, raged fiercely then and yesterday. The enemy, where attacked, retreating many miles, but now and then contending vigorously. Most of the fighting is on the northeast side of the Chickahominy, where my immediate duties do not lie. There is, so far as we can yet see, a fair prospect of breaking up the invading host. Jackson is, we learn, far behind them. I was out on the lines in saddle yesterday from six A.M. to ten P.M. The battle spectacle which I witnessed several miles on our left, across the river, was awfully impressive as well as greatly exciting. The President was by me witnessing the same for hours." "Being laid up for the day by a little fever, etc., consequent upon the immense labor and exposure through which I have passed during the past week, I can take occasion to write you a brief notice of the fact that McClellan is whipped and his whole army in full retreat. Poor Julia* * Hib niece, wife of Colonel James Allen, of the Second Virginia Infantry. is a widow. Mr. Allen was killed at his post of duty, at the head of his regiment, shot through the head. She has at least that consolation, that he suffered no lingering pain. How many other homes are left in like manner desolate! God has in mercy spared us. General Lee told me late last night that he had seen Sandie safe and sound since the terrific battle. 'A fine young man,' added the general. Mr. Lee is, I have good reason to hope, also safe. The main fight was, as I wrote you, on the northern side of the Chickahominy, my special post of duty being on the southern side. On this side we had a good deal of cannonading, and some very sharp infantry skirmishing, but no general battle. I was, however, as everybody was, exposed to cannon-shot and shells again and again. William Nelson was in several hot artillery fights on this side, and acquitted himself most handsomely, exhibiting as cool, calm gallantry as any man in the army. From a commanding position I witnessed the awfully sublime spectacle of a terrific battle about four miles off. "My dear Son,—Your last letter to your mamma was handed me just now. She has gone in consequence of my taking part in an expedition on the other side of James River against the enemy's shipping. We attacked them terribly night before the last,—opening forty guns by surprise at midnight. They were profoundly still in sleep, and were waked up at a rate rarely experienced even in war. I never witnessed anything more terribly grand than that cannonade in the pitchy dark. How much damage was done we cannot say; it must have been serious. One hundred and fifty ships of all sorts, and the Yankee camp beyond them, lay stretched before us at from eight hundred yards to two and a half miles, and by aid of some sight-lines we had adjusted in the day we knew pretty well how to fire in the dark. ". . . We came over Tuesday evening, the I2th. My mission on the other side being accomplished and my duties here needing attention exceedingly. That night I stayed at Peterkin's John and Dudley were in to see me before breakfast. I soon rode to see General Lee, and then had to go to work for certain preparations of batteries to be sent General Jackson. All that day and the two following was pushed exceedingly. ". . . This is the last time this season I shall write to you from here. We are under orders for Gordonsville, and set out this afternoon. It is now two P.M., and I have been hard at work since dawn. Yesterday, among other things, I attended General Winder's funeral. The procession was not very large. Peterkin read the service. It excited serious reflection, no doubt, in many who are likely to be exposed to sudden summons. I go now, not knowing what is to be experienced in the new sphere. But this I do know, all things work together for good to them that love God, and with confidence I hope I may say, this I do." ". . . Before we left Richmond I wrote you word we were under orders for Gordonsville. Information, however, received respecting certain Yankee movements caused a modification in our orders. General Lee telegraphed to Richmond that a column of the enemy was reported to him as advancing on the direct road from Fredericksburg towards Richmond. Hence a division and my artillery were ordered to the neighborhood of the Junction to take post on the south side of the North Anna River. Yesterday Generals Garland, Cobbs, and myself, with a number of colonels and majors, rode over the country a great deal reconnoitring, so as to make sure what to do if the Yankees come. But we hear nothing of them, and my belief is they are not going to attempt any aggressive movement now." ". . . We have here now a considerable force awaiting orders from General Lee. McLaws is here with his division, and D. H. Hill will be here this afternoon to command the portion of his division also here,—a part of it having, before we were stopped here, gone on to Orange Court-House; that part is for the time commanded by General Ripley. I have to-day your letter of the 20th, telling me of Sue's and Sandie's sickness. I infer from the incidental way in which you speak of Sandie's being at home, and of the sickness of both, that a previous letter telling me of the beginning of their sickness and of Sandie's getting home has not reached me. It will not, I trust, be serious with either of them. Sandie will, I know, regret being detained from his post at this stirring time. Mr. Stringfellow came to see me, and asked me to preach at Trinity to-morrow. I will do so if no military hindrance occur and the weather permit. It will be a great treat to me to see dear Aunt Judy and all at Oakland." ". . . Here, after a march of twenty miles to-day, and waiting for the cars to take me on to General Lee, meanwhile taking a loll to rest myself, I write you in a new position, flat on my back. Your letters since the one of the 20th, telling me of Sue's and Sandie's sickness, have failed. I am in consequence ignorant of their condition now, not only so, but uneasy by learning yesterday that a letter had been received at Oakland saying that Sandie was doing well, but that Sue was very sick with what was thought typhoid fever. I trust she may soon be better. It will not be practicable for me to hear now for some time, as I am going where letters are not easily transmitted. How we come to be moving this way I will describe. "My Darling Wife,—Again I am writing to you from a bed, and this time I am in it as an invalid. Not much, I hope, only the crisis of a diarrhœa of some two weeks' duration, rendered worse by hard effort to catch up with General Lee. This I did yesterday about three o'clock on another bloody battle-field. After delivering the messages sent by the President and tendering my services for whatever I could do, disordered and jaded as I was, I was urged by the general in the kindest manner to find some comfortable place, rest, and get well. We then remained,— Randolph Page, Dudley, and myself,—interested in the battle, though liable to shells every moment, till after five, when we rode back to our friends, the Jordans, in Haymarket, and they directed us to these admirable people about two miles north. They have suffered much, but are still wealthy, and as whole-souled as any people I ever met. "By a direct opportunity to Richmond I write you a hurried line. Here we are to cross into Maryland. Most of the army crossed last night and this morning; we go to-morrow morning. I am still unwell, but will try to take care of myself. Randolph blistered my right side to act on the liver; it has been very sore riding, but a quiet day has relieved it greatly. When shall I hear from you? It is long, long since I had a line; still, I hope for the best. There will be a great deal of warm work in the operations now entered upon. May God guide, strengthen, and direct us in them!" "Early in the morning, after all arrangements made for setting out on another march, I employ a few moments in writing to you. On Sunday last we left Leesburg. I could not spend the day there, nor even attend church, because so much severer duty needed my care. About twelve that night we reached the Arcadia farm, which you remember. There we have since been encamped on the banks of a nice stream. After reporting to General Lee, Monday morning, I spent the day in calling on my old friends in Frederick. Greater kindness no one ever received. . . . The parsonage and church both closed. . . . Frederick has improved a good deal. The cemetery quite an ornament, and several new churches. . . . To-day we go farther inward; I must not indicate where lest my letter fail and give some clue where I would not have information gotten. Suffice it that General Lee seems well to understand what he is about. Yankeedom seems a good deal stirred up." "About to send Captain Barnwell to Winchester for some long-range guns, I have an opportunity of writing to you again a few hurried lines. We left Frederick Wednesday afternoon, 10th, and arrived here yesterday afternoon. Of course we could travel faster, but a considerable force had to be detached by Harper's Ferry to break up the Yankees there, and we move leisurely to let those troops get up again. "Great pressure of work has prevented my writing you for a whole week. Yesterday week I hoped for a quiet Sabbath near Hagerstown, but orders came just after breakfast to march. That evening a battle was fought,* * At Braddock's Gap, between Longstreet's corps and part of McClellan's army. but my assigned place was only near, not in it. At midnight I was summoned to General Lee. He directed me to detach some batteries for a point to which he intended taking the army, and to conduct the rest by Williamsport to the Virginia side of the Potomac and make arrangements for defending the several fords. This gave us a long march day and night, and brought me to Shepherdstown on Tuesday morning. There I had much labor in locating batteries, etc., and doing a great deal towards rendering roads to and from the ford somewhat safe. The work had to be done day and night. Wednesday a great battle was fought partly in our sight, with immense slaughter on each side. The Yankees were too much shattered to renew the attack next day, so that Thursday was a day of comparative quiet. My work, however, went on, for I had to look to several fords, keep roads in order, forward long-range guns, have stragglers caught, etc., and despatches were coming to me all night, so that I could scarcely steal a nap. That night General Lee determined to recross the Potomac to the Virginia side, it being too hazardous as well as too laborious to get all his supplies so far across so difficult a river. I had again to work like a beaver, as did all my officers and men, promoting the safe passage of the army, with its immense trains of artillery and wagons, hence no rest again that night. By nine Friday morning all had safely crossed and McClellan's army had hardly found out the move. Now came my great responsibility. I planted some forty or more guns on the heights this side the river, and had assigned me some six hundred infantry to protect the rear of our army and keep the enemy back. They planted on the more commanding heights on the other side a number of powerful batteries, compared with which ours were but as pop-guns, and commenced upon us a furious cannonade. Under cover of this they sent down to the river's edge a strong force of sharp-shooters, and with the double fire of the tremendous cannon and longest-range rifles used by an immensely more numerous body of men we had to contend all day. General—I have the honor to report the part performed by my command and by myself in the recent operations of our army, and especially as to service rendered in defending the Potomac ford at Shepherdstown, in connection with General Jackson's capture of Harper's Ferry and the battle of Sharpsburg. General—The commanding general wishes you to have constructed immediately a wide bridge over the canal opposite the ford. You can either do it by making a bridge on a level with the tow-path or by digging the banks on either side so as to pass down and up easily, causewaying the bottom so as to make the crossing easy. General—I desire you to keep some artillery guarding each of the fords at Williamsport, Falling Waters, and Shepherdstown, and have some infantry with it if possible. General—If you have fifteen or twenty guns suitable for our purpose which you can spare, the general desires you to send them, with a sufficiency of ammunition. You must not take them from the fords, if essential to their safety. Send up the stragglers. Take any cavalry about there and send up at the point of the sword. We want ammunition, guns, and provisions. General,—The commanding general says that if the enemy is in force in your front you must retire to-night. If not in force, being merely an artillery force, withdraw the infantry forces, directing them to join their respective divisions on the march to morrow, a few guns and a small cavalry force being sufficient to guard the fords. ". . . For the last few days I have been too unwell to write,— with my complaint of long standing. To-day I am better. . . . Randolph insists I must get a leave of three or four weeks or I will not get well. I begin to think so myself, but must wait a little longer. A good deal to be done that I wish to accomplish before leaving the army, and then it will depend upon the prospect before us and how I feel whether I shall consider myself at liberty to take a brief respite. ". . . I have another opportunity of writing a few lines. This holy day has been too busy for a Sabbath, yet mentally to me a sacred day. I am resting for an hour or two. The enemy seems concentrating at Harper's Ferry, so that this army must move to head them off. This active movement, with the likelihood of battle, prevents my thinking just now of the furlough I had contemplated. Indeed, Randolph had given me a certificate that it was essential for me to leave camp for thirty days, but there is a good deal to do in my department which no one else can do as well, under the circumstances, and I would not go when a great conflict may be near. ". . . I have only time this morning for a line to tell you how much better I am. I was very sick and beginning to despair of getting well in camp, but got one of the boys to bring me a piece of pickle from a nice house near by, and extracting and swallowing the juice helped me at once. I am now taking nitro-muriatic acid, and have been living mainly on acid food. It has all helped me wonderfully, and I am really beginning to feel like myself. You may, therefore, rest easy on my account thus far." ". . . It grieves me that you were all so disappointed about my not going home, but it was better for me to stay. I hope to get home later if there is not much active campaigning. I am really well, with a fine appetite, and full of vigor. It is dreadfully dry. I never saw so much dust. ". . . Here we are still, you see. Under General Lee's direction, I have had the routes over the mountains explored, and the capacity of Fauquier, Loudoun, etc., for maintaining an army ascertained and reported to him. . . . My great work of reorganizing the artillery has been accomplished, and if there is to be no more active campaigning I can be better spared from camp now than at most other times. ". . . I am, as usual, hurried. Have ridden to see General Lee to-day about various matters; took occasion to hint about recruiting my strength. He says I mustn't want recruiting; he can't spare me. I suppose it will not do for me to think of leaving till winter puts a veto on active movements. I wish we had known a month ago the army would be here so long, I would have had you and Rose here at 'Mountain View.'" General,—General Longstreet's corps will be put in march to Culpeper. General Jackson's will remain in the valley for the present. His head-quarters are on the Charlestown and Berryville Turnpike near Long Marsh Run. As soon as Longstreet's corps passes you, I wish you to follow it with your reserve artillery at a convenient distance to Culpeper, encamping on your arrival at a suitable distance from his command, where you can procure shelter, fuel, and subsistence. You must make arrangements to provide forage, etc., at your camping-grounds on your march. The reserve ammunition-train will accompany you. ". . . On Thursday, 30th of October, I received notice to march Saturday, 1st of November, and at one P.M. of that day set the column in motion, the road not being clear till then. That evening, crossing the two branches of the Shenandoah, we reached and encamped near Front Royal. Tuesday, soon after mid-day, we arrived here,—are encamped about a mile from the village, where streams furnish water for our horses and woods shelter them and ourselves," . . . ". . . Yesterday I was again permitted to preach acceptably to a large and attractive congregation in Rev. Mr. Cole's church. There were a great many officers and soldiers. General Lee and staff among others. They tell me the army seems in motion. I have for a day or two anticipated the breaking up of our camp here. ". . . After a rough march during four or five days of the past week we arrived here to-day about twelve. Since then have been busy fixing camps, seeing General Lee, etc. It has been very little like God's holy day. I have tried to have my own mind exercised in harmony with the day. I was struck this evening by a reply made to John by old George. The latter had been away for an hour or two, no one knew where. On being reproved, he said he had just learned it was Sunday and had gone into the bushes to pray. ". . . At present the burden of defence here falls necessarily on the artillery, and hence I have to be very active and busy. No gun yet fired, but the Yankees on the other side in full force, and working like beavers planting batteries. We are, of course, energetic in the same way getting guns in position to keep them back. To do this systematically requires exact care on my part to have all the batteries, guns, etc., classified, so that every man may know his place, and every gun be rendered fully available at the right point and at the requisite moment. All day Monday I was out reconnoitring, riding some thirty miles, and yesterday the same. The Yankees in full view, and we get not only within cannon-range, but within musket-shot. Just across from Fredericksburg they have guns planted to rake the streets. If the enemy makes a serious effort to cross, it will be a hot time. The artillery fire will be tremendous on both sides. Burnside has a serious task before him; and, as General Lee said to me pleasantly this morning, he hopes Burnside will eat his turkey and plum-pudding elsewhere than in Richmond. I am perfectly well, although in the woods, and sometimes with only one meal a day. . . . When I contemplate my own part in the struggle here my feelings are solemn, yet trustful and hopeful. He who notes the fall of every sparrow holds in His hands my life on the battlefield as everywhere else. And I desire, harder though it then be, to realize this when the shells crash and the bullets whiz within a hair's-breadth as when all is quiet and peace around me. It is a strange position for a servant of the Prince of Peace and a minister of the Gospel of Peace. But as I do not delight in war, and would not hurt the hair of the head of any human being save under conviction of public duty; as by prayer, pleadings, and expostulation I have earnestly tried for peace, so I trust the blessing of the peace-maker will not be denied me, though as a soldier of the Cross I follow the example of old Abraham in endeavoring to defend my kindred against cruel outrage. As with that instance of generous indignation and just courage conspicuously in view, the pattern patriarch is—in the New Testament as well as in the Old —honored as the father of the faithful and the friend of God, so, even under the pacific dispensation of the Gospel, the Lord's faithful servants and children, though they may not individually avenge themselves, may, with His approval and by His sanction, wield the sword of society against public wrong-doers seeking to subvert social right by iniquitous force. He knows how truly I mourn over the wrongs which have compelled the best people of the South to resolve on resistance unto death, and how painful to me the alternative of seeing all that I most value on earth desolated, or of taking myself an humble part in the endeavor, at whatever cost, to resist oppression. He sees that I desire in all sincerity to be a faithful soldier of the Cross, while trying also to be a useful soldier of a much-wronged country. And He graciously accepts, I trust, my unworthy services, whatever error, whatever sin be chargeable against me in this as in other portions of my life. The blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin. All this, my daughter, not for you only I write, but for all at home, and as an expression of my mind when perhaps such utterance may be of value." ". . . This bright, frosty morning, just after our camp breakfast of fried middling and corn-bread and water, with the addition of a little butter, the first for ten days, I seat myself to write. By the way, bacon of any kind in our fare is a great rarity. The army is fed by beef, beef, beef, all the time. It is so easy to get along. A great thing for the eatables of an army to transport themselves. ". . . To-day has been pretty wintry all day, forming ice, I believe, in the shade every hour, and to-night it is still more pinching; yet in my tent we are pretty comfortable, thin as are cotton walls. Very different is it, however, with many of the poor fellows in camp. There are still a few unprovided with shoes, more with inadequate clothing, and all without tents. They manage to eke out some kind of a shelter, either with oil-cloths or a blanket over poles, or brushwood covered with leaves. Nor is the exposure in such weather all. Camp-fare in our fix is an item of life not without significance. Our breakfast this morning was a piece of cold boiled fat middling and corn-bread, washed down with cold water. It went astonishingly well, tired as we are of interminable beef. For dinner I preferred a little 'hard bread' and water. To-night we had the treat of a cup of coffee and some fat cornbread. "My dear Mother,—If the good people of Lexington ever did hear any cannonading,* * The firing round Richmond in July, 1862, had been distinctly heard—or perhaps felt—in Lexington. their acoustic nerves have surely been shocked this morning. At any rate there has not been wanting occasion. This morning the Yankees opposite Fredericksburg opened a tremendous fire, which woke us all, and started us out to see what had broken loose. About eight came a despatch from General Lee stating that the enemy had attempted to cross at Fredericksburg, and that Barksdale's brigade was opposing them. It is now twelve M. and we have heard nothing further from General Lee. I have been amused at the various comments of the negroes as to the cause and probable results of the firing. And it is a fact that we have been so long without a fight, that our army begins to desire another tilt with the Yankees. The prestige is on our side here. Yesterday General D. H. Hill (Raw-Hide Hill as he is called from having moccasins for his men) drove off five gunboats from Port Royal with his Whitworth gun and Poague's twenty-pounder Parrotts. This is the second time he has done the same thing." "Here I am a major within two months after my twenty-second year is completed. I am proud of it and glad that the promotion has come from recognized merit, and accept it as a good omen for future success. . . . Sunday the whole party turned out and went to Grace Church. The ladies here having a carriage, but no horses, harness, nor driver, I furnished all three in Buck and our ambulance-team, and they went in fine style. Mr. Friend preached a good sermon, and I raised the tunes. Judge of my surprise on leaving the church at seeing pa, Dudley, and Wash Nelson. Pa and Dudley came over and spent the night here. . . . We are working as busily as beavers along our front, not in anticipation of the Yankees crossing, but lest they may. It is raining to-night furiously, and has been blowing, but that has ceased, and I hear only the incessant rattle of the rain in streams upon the tent." ". . . The mud is so intense that no one ever thinks of moving from camp except under the pressure of duty. Its depth is appalling to us uncivilized beings from the mountains. The whole bottom of the earth seems to have sunk about three feet. The people here say that there is no possible chance of our being able to move for six weeks more. . . . Friday we had a visit from a young Englishman, who has been through the Indian Sepoy War under Havelock, and who has come over to take another lesson in the art of war in the West. From the Old World to the New; from the horrors of heathen warfare to the barbarities of Yankee heroes. These last he abhors quite enthusiastically enough to please the most fastidious Southerner. He says the English quite admire General Jackson, as they class him along with Havelock.". . . ". . . It is snowing, sleeting, and raining all at the same time. The most serious objection to it is that it keeps the roads bad, interferes with military operations, and renders it impossible to recruit or even keep up our animals. The Yankee pickets along the river say Hooker is coming across 'the first fair day.' ". . . Yesterday afternoon George Peterkin and I rode over to Mr. Wortham's, and I baptized Colonel Alexander's little daughter. He wrote to ask me to do it, and requested I would take a Prayer-Book, as there was none in the house,—Mr. Wortham and his wife being Baptists and he and his wife Presbyterians. The father and mother made the responses; old Mr. and Mrs. Wortham present, and devout. . . . I am, D. V., to go up to General Jackson's to address the chaplains on Saturday. Sandie wrote me Mrs. Jackson and child were with the general. How I should rejoice to have you here again! But feel better satisfied you are at home. It is, I feel, more in the way of duty. They needed you there, and we may be summoned off any day. They have put at the lowest point baggage, tents, etc., to be taken by officers. "While I wait for my horse to be shod I can write to let you know I am still alive and safe after the terrible danger of yesterday and to-day. "Where is General Hooker? Where is Sedgwick? Where is Stoneman? ". . . To-day, I suppose, General Jackson's remains reach Lexington for interment, and Sandie will see you all. I could not write after I knew he was going. On Tuesday I met the chaplains and addressed them. Good will, I hope, result. After the services Mr. Lacy took occasion to speak to the meeting of General Jackson's last days. The facts are striking and may well be preserved. At certain steps of the disease he was delirious, and in such states of mind his thoughts seemed filled with military duty. At one time he would exclaim, 'I must find out whether there is high ground between Chancellorsville and the river;' at another, 'Push up the columns! Hasten the columns! Pendleton (Sandie), you take charge of that. Where's Pendleton? Tell him to push up the columns!' When rational, as he generally was, he was all composure and contentment. Soon after he was wounded, when General Lee, fearing he might fall into the enemy's hands, directed that he should be removed to a safer position, he charged Dr. McGuire not to remove him if there was danger to his life from the wounds under the motion, saying, 'I'm not afraid of the Yankees; if they get me, they'll not injure me.' When his wounds had been dressed and friends saw him, he expressed entire contentment, saying, 'God loves me, I know. I love Him, I believe, and He has pledged all things to work together for good to them that love Him. I am sure this is for my good, and if I am not permitted to see how now, I am content to await the full explanation in heaven.' 'You never saw me in a more contented frame of mind than now,' said he to Mr. Lacy; and when asked, 'if it be best for you, how is it with the country?' he replied, 'It is no doubt best for the country also, and that will, by and by, be seen.' Mr. Lacy intended to go with him, when it was hoped he would be able to travel to Richmond and Lexington, and at first he seemed pleased; but after a night he called Mr. Lacy to him and said, 'It would be setting an example of self-gratification to the troops, and you had better stay at your post of duty. I have always tried to set the troops a good example.' His end was perfect peace. A glorious Christian! A noble man! I thank God for intimate friendship with him, and that Sandie so long enjoyed companionship with so pure, so grand a character. Who will fill his place we do not yet know. Ewell is much talked off. If he can get about with sufficient ease he will no doubt do well. At any rate, Jackson's example will be mighty in animating alike commanders and men. . . . All quiet in our front. The enemy reorganizing, —probably for another great effort. We, too, engaged in refitting. It will in all likelihood be the bloodiest campaign of the war. . . . Our food hard but wholesome,—a little bacon, sugar, biscuits, and water, morning, mid-day, and evening. Our horses, however, feasting on fine clover-fields." ". . . You ask how I did during the heavy rains. Very tolerably. Was out in about the hardest I ever saw, yet did not get wet. My old great-coat absorbed all and kept me dry. Our wagons, tents, etc., had all been sent to the rear, and I had not even a blanket Did with only one or two hours' sleep in the twenty-four for several days at the time of the fight, and with hardly any food. But this is too common in our army to be thought of." ". . . I have been exceedingly busy trying to distribute justly, and according to the necessities of the service, the captured guns; also equalizing, as far as practicable, the armaments of the several artillery battalions of this army, and securing to the utmost from our means the complete fitness for duty—in the most efficient manner—of all the artillery. It is much the most complex branch of service, and requires ceaseless care and untiring labor. Few men have worked these two years as I have. And yet poor were the reward if the applause of men were my motive! Of this, however, no matter. I am trying to serve God in manifold ways and through some trials. He gives me a large measure of peace of mind, and will enable me, I trust, to do some good to the country, and promote His glory in the upholding of His cause and in the salvation of souls. ". . . I feel better to-day. I suppose because I am sure now of my status, and though not content, yet intend to make the best of it. I went yesterday to General Lee's head-quarters to ask to be relieved. But he will not hear of any such thing. He disapproves entirely of any change in the general staff, as officers have to become acquainted with the duties and with the command, and change almost necessarily produces confusion and injury to the service. ". . . Sandie is quite sick with dysentery. I saw him yesterday flat on his back in his tent. Have tried to get him in a house near by, but cannot. He may have to go away for a few days. I regret it, as General Ewell has come, and needs Sandie in the position he has so long filled. Three corps now,—Longstreet's First, Ewell's Second, A. P. Hill's Third. I have to adjust the artillery to suit. This is part of my work to-day. In rearranging for these three corps I break up the general reserve, and assign Colonel William Nelson's battalion to General Ewell's corps and Colonel Cutts's to General A. P. Hill's; also make a new battalion, so as to give five battalions to each corps,—making fifteen in all, besides the horse-artillery with Stuart's cavalry. We have about two hundred and seventy pieces with this army, including Stuart's. . . . I had last week a long and pleasing talk with General Lee on the great question of religion. I visited him on duty. He was alone and introduced the subject He is in earnest. Wept a good deal as we talked of Jackson. He is deeply concerned for the spiritual welfare of the soldiers. Bishop Johns is to be up (D. V.) day after to-morrow. If a move occurs of course it will mar his usefulness. The general wants me to aid in rendering the bishop's visit as useful and pleasant as possible." "Sandie came up in an ambulance yesterday afternoon, and I tried to get him in at old Mrs. Alsop's, who lives within a hundred and fifty yards. But she would not consent. I had a good bed made in my tent, and rendered him as comfortable as could be. Gave him a good cup of coffee this morning, and then he went in the ambulance to Dr. Chandler's, where General Jackson died. I hope he was better this morning, but he is right sick and very weak." "Your letter of the 1st, which I got yesterday as I lay on a sickbed at Guinnea's, cheered me so that I feel bound to answer it this last evening of our stay around Fredericksburg. In the last week I have been very sick. The excitement of the news of a move, together with the kind nursing of Mrs. Chandler in the same room and on the same bed on which General Jackson died, brought me out, so that I was able to ride in an ambulance up to camp last night. Am to-day right sharp again, though very weak. "You see by the heading of this where we are. . . . Evening before last the enemy began a furious cannonade just below Fredericksburg. They succeeded in driving off our sharpshooters, laid down their bridge, and crossed. This kept me up till late that night hard at work preparing for them. So Saturday morning by dawn I was at it again, having guns in right position, etc. Having by nine traversed the most important parts of our line, I met with General Lee. We remained till about one. Then it being pretty certain that the move was a sham, General Lee concluded to move himself on his original plan, and desired me to do the same. I broke up camp about three P.M. and started. Got near twenty miles by dark, to the farm of Mr. Lacy. Then encamped. Not a soul of the family there,—only fields and houses and a few cattle. (I was so sleepy last night I stopped, and am now writing just at sunrise, Monday, the 8th.) We got good rest Saturday night, started early Sunday morning, and reached Culpeper by half-past one. I went to Mr. Cole's and got dinner. General Ewell, Sandie, etc., have arrived. I have not seen them. . . . Having assigned the reserve artillery battalions, I have now no special charge, but superintend all the artillery, and direct in battle such portions as may most need my personal attention. This is a better arrangement, I think. My work will be much as it has been, but freer, as none of the petty details of one or two battalions will require my care. We had a pleasant rain on the march Saturday. Hope you have been similarly refreshed. It is singularly cool since,— a fire would hardly be amiss." ". . . We reached here Sunday morning, and a day less Sabbath-like I have never seen. . . . A despatch has just come from Stuart that a large body of Yankee cavalry has crossed the Rappahannock at Beverly's Ford in our front. An 'armed reconnoissance in force,' I presume. I hope it will soon be over and let us move on. I am anxious to get over into the valley and thence to Maryland. Yesterday there was a grand cavalry review of about eight thousand by Stuart and Longstreet, General Lee and all the other generals. A grand show it was. General Ewell is in fine health and fine spirits,—rides on horseback as well as any one need to. The more I see of him the more I am pleased with him. In some of his traits of character he is very much like General Jackson, especially in his total disregard of his own comfort and safety, and his inflexibility of purpose. He is so thoroughly honest, too, and has only the one desire, to conquer the Yankees. I look for great things from him, and am glad to say that our troops have for him a good deal of the same feeling they had towards General Jackson." ". . . It seemed yesterday as if we were to have a battle here. But it proved only a partial engagement. Stuart and his cavalry were approached by a force of the enemy and had a sharp conflict. Our troops suffered seriously, but repulsed the enemy with considerable loss to the invaders. The day before Stuart had a grand review of the cavalry. General Lee asked me to accompany him to it, and I did, and had a ride of it,—some six miles at full run for our horses, down the line and up again, and then had to sit on our horses in the dust half the day for the squadrons to march in display backward and forward near us. This pageant one day and the next a bloody fight, and many of the poor fellows laid in their graves or groaning with wounds!" "You are before this aware of our being in this part of the world, as I wrote of our proceedings since we left Culpeper. . . . They have done well with Ewell's corps, and are now all in Maryland. The rest of us are for the present in this region. . . . Yesterday I preached for Mr. Sutor,—a good and attentive congregation. Generals Lee and Longstreet present. After church I rode to Brother Hugh's. They are well. I gave Gurdon one hundred dollars to lay out in dry goods for you if he goes into Maryland, as he expects to. Made a memorandum from your last letter,—a piece or two of cotton, ditto of calico, ditto of mousseline, assortments of spools, skeins, etc., of cotton, silk, and thread, pins, needles, tapes, buttons, hooks and eyes, etc., etc. I don't know what he will be able to do, and if he gets the things how I can get them to you, but will try." . . . "Having received orders to march in the morning, I write tonight. I have been privileged to see most of our friends. . . . This afternoon I sent a servant on horseback to Brother Hugh's, and got a supply of the finest cherries you ever saw. Sent some to General Lee and staff, with two nice lemons out of five sent me by an unknown lady near our camp. Major Taylor sent a note of thanks for the present, which arrived, he said, most opportunely, as they were just finishing dinner. . . . We move on towards the Potomac to-morrow. Yankeedom is greatly stirred. May the Lord go with us to restrain from evil, uphold in duty, strengthen for efficient service, protect from injury, and guide to victory, justice, and peace!" "Day before yesterday we marched from Berryville and camped that night at Darkesville,—just where General Jackson had his head-quarters two years ago when we were in line of battle expecting Patterson. Yesterday morning we started at four and proceeded through Martinsburg. Crossed the Potomac at Williamsport last evening and camped half a mile north of the river. This morning we came on through a most disagreeable rain all day, first to Hagerstown, where General Lee got me to see some good Southerner to learn about roads, etc. I went with George Peterkin to see a Dr. Magill. Very much of a gentleman and not less earnest than the most thorough-going among ourselves. He has been fourteen months in Fort Warren, and has met a Yankee mob of five thousand so resolutely with his shot-gun as to prevent their tearing down his house as they threatened. They were all very kind. A number of ladies walked through the mud and rain half a mile to see General Lee. . . . After remaining near Hagerstown some two hours, we marched on and camped, where we now are, in Pennsylvania. Ewell and the cavalry ahead of him have swept along before us, so that we do not see the full harvest of Yankee alarm, etc. Houses are generally shut, and horses, cattle, etc., are missing. "My dear Mother,—As I have spent all the money I have in the world—seventy-five dollars—in buying dry-goods for you and the girls, and expect to send them back to Winchester to Dr. McGuire's this afternoon, I write to let you know the facts and to enclose the bill. Whether my selection is good as to taste I don't know. I think the black one for yourself pretty. Should have bought a silk, but couldn't find any. There are no shoes or gloves in the place, nor, I expect, will any be found on our route. The people along the railroad north of our position run off everything as we advance. But we are collecting large supplies of all sorts, mostly commissary stores, and sending them to Virginia. No violence of any sort has been done to any citizen. No women insulted, or anything done in any way to emulate the behavior of the Yankees in our country. We have passed through a most beautiful and highly-cultivated region, but so orderly has been our march that no damage of any kind has been done, and you would not know that an army had passed at all, much less one which had suffered such provocations to retaliation and the wreaking of private revenge as ours. There is no straggling and the men are in elegant spirits. . . . In Pennsylvania! Rather a pleasant feeling to know that you have a country at your mercy and are magnanimous. The Yankees must feel rascally after their behavior in our country. . . . I am in such a state of excitement that I can't write. I think of you often and wish you were along. We live elegantly. I have gotten nothing for myself except what Milroy furnished, and don't expect to. I send by the same mail one Harper's Weekly—June 20—for the picture of the burning of Jackson, Mississippi. A marked contrast to our occupancy here." "My dear Mrs. Lee,—In reply to your letter of April 20, asking for my recollections of the evening of the 1st and the morning of the 2d of July at Gettysburg, I write briefly. Of course one occupying a subordinate position, as I did, was not at all behind the scenes. Still, as I stood in a very close relationship to your dear father as his aide-de-camp, and, more than that, owing no doubt in large measure to the general's long friendship for my father, I always thought that he admitted me to much more intimate relations than my mere official position would seem to call for. At all events, I may very properly say that I was his constant companion during the three years of my service on his staff, and that he talked very freely to me of all things connected with the army and the conduct of the campaign as far as such things came under his observation. June 3.—I visited the army on the Rappahannock to make such arrangements as might be found expedient to enable my brethren of the clergy to render most effectively such missionary services as were contemplated by the resolution of the last Council. When I arrived the several divisions had received marching orders, and before many hours had elapsed all—with the exception of those brought up in front of Fredericksburg to resist a demonstration of the enemy at that point—had moved for active service elsewhere. . . . On my arrival at Hamilton's Crossing I was met by the Rev. J. McGill, chaplain in the Fifty-second Virginia Regiment, who informed me that in the Rockbridge Artillery company—then encamped in the vicinity, but under orders to march in a few hours—there were several persons anxious to receive confirmation. The necessary arrangements were soon made, and at five P.M., in front of the residence of Mr. Marye, I preached to the members of that brave band, baptized one and confirmed six of their number. Before the next dawn their tents had disappeared, and they were moving to share in the terrible conflicts of the campaign. "This rainy Monday morning, while we are waiting in expectation of an attack from the enemy, I employ a half-hour in writing. Saturday and yesterday I was laboriously occupied in posting batteries on our lines, giving minute directions to officers, etc. Our army is well posted, and if attacked will, I think, prove victorious. . . . We have had so much rain, it has not been practicable for us to recross the river had it been ever so desirable. And now, although the water has fallen a good deal and a little fording is done, cannon can hardly be driven across without spoiling the ammunition. . . . We are grieved at the fall of Vicksburg, but no less firmly resolved to resist Northern aggression to the end. . . . My health continues very good. By care I manage to discharge a great deal of duty without breaking myself down, and by proper management generally get good rest at night, so that I am, most of the time, fresh for the hard and protracted service incident to my position. By awaking very early I get a good—time for prayer and Scripture reading every morning, and have my staff stirring betimes. George Peterkin is my trusty aide,—at all times ready for any work or any danger. One of the truest human beings I ever knew. "My last was from near Williamsport, where we were expecting another great battle. The weather being very uncomfortable, the river likely to rise higher, and the Yankees exhibiting an intention of fortifying, so as to hold a small force in our front while they operated elsewhere, General Lee concluded to recross to the Virginia side. This he did on the afternoon and night of Monday, the 13th, and morning of Tuesday, the 14th. The labors of all in responsible positions were great. Mine were herculean. At General Lee's request I started on horseback round our lines about one P.M., Monday, the 13th, and was virtually in the saddle until five P.M., Tuesday, the 14th. In the hardest rain all night, posting batteries and fighting them on the hills our side the Potomac, when our army was nearly across, and an advance of the enemy came imprudently near, about twelve on the 14th, and having all guns and ammunition secured. I had to do everything alone during the last ten hours of the time, as every member of my staff was either broken down himself or disabled by having a broken-down horse. My horse and myself were all this while—twenty-eight hours—without food, and I got no rest for about forty hours. Still, my strength kept up in good measure, though my horse could scarcely walk when I reached camp. This recrossing was a great success on General Lee's part. The army is recruiting after a very severe campaign. . . . We have moved up gradually to this point and are awaiting developments. Our cause is, undoubtedly, at serious disadvantage just now. The loss of Vicksburg is in itself not very injurious; but Grant's army being set free to co-operate with Rosecrans is a serious evil. Our failure at Gettysburg and these events on the Mississippi will give us a vast deal of trouble. It is a case in which resort to God for help becomes doubly urgent, while we brace ourselves to the stern duties of the occasion. . . . William Nelson lost all his clothes and his servant William when the Yankee cavalry caught part of Ewell's train. I have given him an old shirt, drawers, socks, towels, handkerchiefs, and collars out of my scant store." "Still at Bunker Hill, I write again. . . . I have often thought how anxious you must all be about us. And indeed you have had reason. For besides one of the bloodiest battles in history, —certainly, I suppose, the most tremendous artillery conflict ever known thus far on earth,—we have been exposed to a continuance of weather almost unsurpassed in inclemency again and again, marching day and night through drenching rain and mud interminable; our food, too, has been necessarily most irregular, and sometimes so unattractive as to be turned from by even very hungry men. Only dry bread, such as camp affords, and a little poor meat, without condiment of any sort save a little salt, and no vegetables. This, morning, noon, and night, so wearies the appetite that the organs well-nigh refuse to perform their office. Still, by God's helping, we get along cheerfully and in very tolerable health. I am myself quite well. Lizzie sent me two days ago a loaf of bread and two or three makings of tea with sugar enough for it. It is very refreshing. But after all, what of all these little trials if God be pleased to bless us in frustrating the wicked purposes of Lincoln and the Yankees. . . . By this time the bundles sent have, I hope, reached you. I have amused myself imagining the looks of horror and merriment with which the girls held up the odd pairs of shoes, and one or two of the dress-patterns sent, not knowing my idea in sending them,—viz., that if they could not be used in our household, they could be exchanged somewhere for things more suitable. The truth is, that amid the solemnities of so much blood and death I hardly felt that it was right to be bestowing much effort upon any earthly vanities or even comforts." "From the hour you see I have only a moment to write, having had hard marching and little rest since leaving Bunker Hill on Tuesday. By five P.M. were four miles southeast of Front Royal,—forty-one or forty-two miles. Next day, yesterday, we reached a point eight or nine miles from here, not camping till past twelve at night. No dinner, no supper. This morning about ten arrived here with one corps. The others pressing on. We are pushing on to head the Yankees stirring again for Richmond." "The probabilities now seem that we shall be for some time somewhere between this place and Gordonsville. . . . You are all well, I trust, and comfortable in reliance on God notwithstanding the unfavorable turn in our national affairs. It is undoubtedly a time to try our faith and fortitude. But God has not vacated His throne, nor will He, except for wise purposes, permit iniquity to triumph ultimately. And if, for such purposes, although impenetrable by us, He see fit to allow our enemies to triumph, we can, I hope, submit to Him even therein, as did our Saviour under the hands of his enemies,—'Not my will, but thine, be done.'" "Last night I rode a few miles to Alexander's battalion and preached for them. It was a very interesting time. Captain Parker, a good Methodist, is much concerned for the religious condition of his men. There is unusual interest among them, and the meeting was large, attentive, and interesting. ". . . What do you think of my sitting up the entire night, night before last, reading 'Aurora Floyd'? Sitting with my back to the front of my tent, I was surprised to find, on finishing the book and turning round, that it was broad day. I went to bed and slept soundly about three hours, and got up fresh as a lark for my usual work. . . . How do you find the quiet life of home after the stir of army associations? A little dull, I fear. I was at the chaplains' meeting day before yesterday, and gave them a few words of counsel and exhortation." "Last night I officiated to a very large congregation—the scene very striking—in the grand woods, the deepest darkness around. Several light-wood torches raised on platforms glaring on the dense mass of soldiers seated in orderly arrangement on rough seats prepared for the purpose, and a candle or two on the primitive stand where I was. My ride home was rough, extremely dark, partly through dense woods, and quite lonely. It was eleven when I got to my tent. But I had great peace of mind and a sense of God's approving goodness." "Part of this army has moved. General Lee had a grand review of the Second Corps day before yesterday. A. P. Hill's corps is to be reviewed to-day. . . . Mr. Hansbrough has asked me to assist in the services on Sunday, when Bishop Johns is expected." "I can send you but a line this morning, having to move forward and post artillery on the Rapidan. The enemy advancing. I preached in church yesterday and administered the communion, the bishop too unwell to come and Mr. Hansbrough sick. Some two hundred and fifty persons communed, several generals among them. General Lee was not there; detained by news from the front." ". . . The enemy's cavalry came on in large force and drove Stuart back to the Rapidan, capturing three pieces of artillery. Our cavalry suffered smartly, but did good execution. Our infantry moved out at daylight yesterday, our corps moving down to watch Summerville's and Raccoon Fords. The enemy showed no infantry, but only cavalry and artillery." "Last Saturday we moved down here from Orange Court-House to Steam's place, formerly the property of Jeremiah Morton. The house is entirely empty, and I am now writing in one of the fine parlors,—a magnificent room twenty-six feet square, with deep bay-windows, pier-glasses, and marble mantel-pieces, but no furniture except my camp-table and chair. . . . Our corps guards the river to the east of Orange Court-House, Early being at Summerville's and Raccoon Fords, and Rodes and Johnson at Morton's and Germanna Fords, fords west to east in the order named, the first being some eight miles below Rapidan Station and the last near the mouth of the river." "You see by the superscription that we have come back from Bristow Station. The Yankees have so entirely desolated the region that there is nothing left on which men or animals can subsist. On Saturday, the 17th, besides riding round the lines giving directions to the artillery, I went forward to old Manassas, Randolph Page, George Peterkin, and Charles Hatcher accompanying me. The only house of any kind left there is a dilapidated shanty, occupied by a poor Irishwoman with her children. ". . . Here we are again, having gotten back here exactly one month from the time we left, and are minus about four thousand men and nine pieces of artillery which we had when we started, October 9. just before sunrise and before starting out on our lines. General,—In obedience to your instructions, I have carefully reconsidered all the recommendations for promotion in the artillery service with this army, availing myself of the matured counsels of General Long, chief of artillery of Second Corps, and Colonel Walker, chief of artillery of Third Corps, and of General Stuart, for the batteries serving with the cavalry. The result I have now the honor to report. "Here I am, snug again in my winter's tent, and about as doleful in the exchange from home and its blessings as a wise man need be. Resolutely have I gone to work, and this in some measure relieves the shock of so great a transfer. Our camp is a pretty good one, and my own tent thoroughly comfortable,—so much so, indeed, that, if the worst comes to the worst, for your accommodation with me, I can readily shield you both from rude blasts within these canvas walls. This, however, I do not anticipate. "Here I am, just a week after leaving my head-quarters at Louisa Court-House, Virginia, with my work of inspection, etc., here fairly begun. ". . . Saturday I attended Generals Hardee and Hood in re viewing the artillery of their corps. Yesterday I stayed in-doors, intending to be present at Methodist worship, but was misin formed as to the hour. I therefore improved the time with Bible and Prayer-Book, Bradley's Sermons, and my little practical com mentaries. . . . To-day I employed in inspecting minutely all the artillery of Hardee's corps,—batteries, transportation, horses, camps, etc. To-morrow I shall give for similar work to Hood's corps. This will get me through the actual inspection. Then I have to get in the written replies to my inquiries addressed to commanding officers, and from the whole make up my mind as to things needed for best efficiency. One or two thorough officers are the chief requisite." ". . . We are still kindly entertained at General Johnston's head-quarters. I yesterday finished all my field-work of actual inspection, and am waiting partly for reports from commanders before I can systematize my own suggestions, and also to hear the results of our application for Tom Carter to be sent here as brigadier-general and chief of artillery for this army. ". . . General Johnston was informed last night from Richmond that Brigadier-General Shoup had been ordered to him to be his chief of artillery. I am sorry they did not promote Tom Carter and send him, as he has been so thoroughly tried and found so efficient. Still, General Shoup has the reputation of being a good officer, and will, I hope, do well. He is a West Point graduate of somewhere about Fitz Lee's time, was at Vicksburg, and is now at Mobile. His coming simplifies my operations. I shall be at liberty now to leave in a few days." ". . . I have been privileged to-day to preach to an immense congregation of officers and soldiers and a few ladies. It was on our Saviour's agony in the garden. I trust it was a profitable occasion. I felt it so myself. Was aided to considerable freedom of thought and feeling, and the congregation was thoroughly attentive to the end. Since service I have been mostly in my room reading and resting. ". . . How are you and N this morning after your thrice-trying ride yesterday? I was anxious about you all day, and could only commit you to the care of our Almighty Father and hope that you might find the stage tolerably close against the driving snow. . . . Sandie and I duly reached Orange Court-House. His horse was ready for him; he therefore mounted and rode to the quartermaster's and got a horse for me. Meanwhile I walked through mud and rain to Mr. R—'s, meeting Sandie on the way. He went with me, and our kind cousin soon gave us a delightful snack. We then rode on towards General Lee's head-quarters. There we parted. Sandie rode on to his own head-quarters and I proceeded to the general's. They all seemed glad to see me, and General Lee was particularly cordial. With him I had a conference of two or three hours, and having concluded I moved to leave. He urged me to stay, and promised to make me comfortable. But I had arranged with Cousin R to return to their house that night, and knew it would incommode the general and his staff to extemporize another bed in camp. Besides, I had Major John Rogers's horse, and thought it best to return it. Excusing myself on these accounts, I rode through the extreme darkness and reached Dr. R—'s some time after nine. I could hardly have found my way but for a courier who was sent to guide me through the woods. "All this time—since Sunday—I have been unable to write to you. Tuesday I tried to come down from camp in the accommodation train. The running off the track of a freight-train delayed us, and it was past nine when I got to Sue's. Since then my time has been almost incessantly occupied with General Bragg and the President. Now I can inform you as to my proceedings, as the matter has been arranged this evening. I therefore write to-night, hoping to be industrious enough to take my letter to the Central train to go in the mail starting at six. "You will be surprised to get from here my first letter written since our detention in Danville on our way south. But I felt sure I would get back before a letter from Dalton would be this far on its way to you. I only stayed there two days, as I intended, and started back Saturday afternoon, having accomplished all I could with General Johnston, Got here last evening about sunset. I have had interviews to-day with the President and General Bragg with respect to the report of my conference with General Johnston and the facts important for them to know. My report will probably be the basis of some early movement on the part of our army in that quarter, as the proposal of General Johnston thus communicated is recognized by the President and General Bragg as now perhaps the best that can be done. It would have been better if General Johnston could have agreed to move some time ago, before the enemy had so far made his arrangements. . . . I had some faint hope of running up to see you for a day or two, but the indications of Grant's operations are too significant of immediate work to render it strictly proper for me to enjoy that privilege. I shall therefore hasten to my post, only staying here one more day to make some arrangements I wish to accomplish." "Before sunrise I scratch you a hasty line to let you know God has thus far spared Sandie and myself and those nearest to us. We have had hard fighting and an important success. But there is nothing yet really decisive. Important movements on foot to-day. . . . I have gotten through my devotions this morning,—remembering it is Whitsunday. May the Blessed Spirit be with us all and abundantly given to our people, and, indeed, throughout all the earth!" ". . . We found yesterday that General Grant had slipped off from our front at Spottsylvania Court-House, and under cover of woods, etc., had travelled a considerable distance towards Bowling Green. In this state of facts General Lee concluded that if he attempted to head Grant off at some point more distant from Richmond than this he might not be in time, and the force which might slip by could possibly surprise them in Richmond on the north side, while Beauregard is attending to Butler on the south side. We therefore headed yesterday morning for the front, marched till half-past two this morning, then rested a couple of hours, and came on here this morning, getting here by about nine o'clock. Under one of General Breckenridge's staff tents I have, through the kind hospitality of two or three of his officers, enjoyed a refreshing lunch and delightful nap. Now I am sitting on the ground, in the shade, at Sandie's tent, with my back against a pine stump, and writing this on my knee. The particular encouragement for writing now is that Sandie expects to run down to Richmond to see Kate, and he can get a letter for me in the post-office so as to insure your getting it before very long. Whether you have received any of my numerous letters during this busy campaign I really cannot tell, as I do not at all hear from you. . . Our whole army is just arriving and bivouacking about here. The sun is hot, but there is a pleasant breeze. . . . Oh, how I do long for relief from this uncongenial life! though I am willing to endure to the end at the call of duty for so just a cause. I was asked to preach on this line to a part of Longstreet's corps for this morning, and engaged to do so, provided no military hinderance prevented. But the hinderance, as you see, occurred, so I have to spend the Sunday very differently. It has been as much as I could do to lift up my heart heavenward, from time to time, during the morning. . . . General Lee told me this morning he had just heard from Mrs. Lee that Mrs. Hill Carter died about a fortnight ago of pneumonia." ". . . During a lull in fighting I employ time now in writing again. It is now three P.M., and I am sitting on the ground in the yard of an humble dwelling a hundred or so yards from the railroad depot,—a score or two of officers and their attendants being loungers near. As I wrote you we headed off Grant here. He came after, and we have had some sharp skirmishing; but as we have taken a good line and fortified it strongly, he does not attack. His men seem to have vastly less fight in them than when they first encountered us in the Wilderness. . . . General Lee is quite unwell to-day. A little rest and good diet will soon restore his usual vigor, we trust. He is unceasing in his care and labors, and is animated by a most cheering Christian trust. I think he has grown most perceptibly in grace and in the knowledge of God during the past year, and is altogether a most superior character. He expresses full assurance that the Judge of all the earth will do right, and entire submission to His holy will, or rather to His appointments, for himself or the country. This is my strong conviction. The Lord may not see fit to deliver us as we pray, but if not, He will cause the wrath of man to praise Him, its remainder He will restrain, and through sorrow or joy He will make it ultimately work for good to all who love Him, and among them ourselves, if such be our hearts. . . . We have had a serious time as before. Night before last I was out the entire night, aiding in choosing our line and adjusting positions. And all of every day it is the same thing, with occasional experience of cannon- and musket-balls very close. Through all, however, the good hand of God carries me safely thus far and my health is very good." . . . ". . . We came here from the Junction yesterday,—the enemy having slipped off again and having turned up, according to report, down in this direction. We have not come squarely upon his force to-day, but felt part of it with skirmishing. He crosses at Hanover Town and gets nearly on McClellan's track. . . . I have some anxiety about the Yankees getting to Lexington while the troops are all here defending the capital and crushing Grant. But committing you all, as well as myself, to God's covenant goodness, I am strongly hopeful. . . . Can one of the girls manage for me a pair of summer gloves? These are in shreds." . . . ". . . I visited a house or two after the Yankees left, near the Junction, which had been in their hands. Such destruction you never saw. May the Lord forbid them ever reaching your home or any other large portion of our land!" . . . ". . . Feeling not quite so well this morning, I do not start out as early as usual, and have an opportunity of writing a few lines. . . . On the whole Grant has shown great tenacity of purpose, but he has only reached, with a loss of half his army, the very position he might have started with without the loss of a man. . . . I spoke of not feeling quite well,—a little languor from fatigue, in part, and in part from sameness of rather indigestible diet. I shall keep more quiet to-day in the shade, and do my work chiefly through the members of my staff. General Lee is nearly well again. He rides along the lines in a little carriage. I trust, my darling, you are all comfortable. Send letters for me now to Sue's care,—Box 1118. I can send in to her every day. For myself, I cannot think of going in yet, even for an hour. No letters from you to myself since that by Ed. Moore." . . . "My Darling Daughters, Sue and Kate,—I write a hasty line this morning to relieve your anxieties about my recent indisposition. By God's mercy I am entirely relieved. Two days of considerable fever gave me proportionate trouble, but prompt medical treatment and a quiet day on my camp-bed were rendered effectual to the removal of disease, and I am now fresher than before, have recovered my appetite, and feel quite strong again. Indeed, I was able yesterday to ride twenty miles without half the feeling of weariness I have experienced before. Last night I slept well, and this morning, after taking the liberty of rising later than usual, I have eaten a hearty breakfast. There was heavy fighting yesterday, resulting greatly in our favor. The enemy lost immensely. We miraculously little in proportion. In one or two instances a battery or so of ours suffered very severely. Lieutenant-Colonel Poague's battery had such experience. He himself seriously wounded, I fear. . . . But on the whole the day was wonderfully in our favor." "My dear Mother,—After the most terrific fight of the war we, pa and all, are still safe. . . . Though I had two horses killed under me I am still unhurt, I thank God." . . . "Although I have no idea how a letter can now be conveyed to you, I prepare one. Language cannot express the concern I have felt for you all since it became known that the Yankees were likely to reach Staunton and Lexington. My trust is strong in the overruling care of the Almighty that He will not permit you all to be cruelly injured. . . . Here matters are more quiet. Grant has been so shaken in the nerves of his army, if not in his own, that apparently he must get some rest. We are waiting to see what he will try next. . . . When am I to hear from you again? And how can you hear from us? Sue writes me that she has communicated with you through private hands. That will be a comfort to you." ". . . For a week past we have been wholly uncertain as to the fate of Lexington, and you may suppose how deeply anxious I have been. To wait upon God, committing you all to His supreme care, was all my resource. . . . Brother Hugh made his appearance with Bob Nelson most unexpectedly day before yesterday morning. They arrived in time for breakfast. All being quiet on the lines, I was a little later than usual, and so met them. Brother Hugh gave me your letter,—a real treat,—and told me right fully about you all. . . . About five in the evening of that day Sandie, John, George Peterkin, Charlie Hatcher, and myself rode into the city. Sandie and I spent the night at Sue's, Brother Hugh and myself lodging together. Sue had her couch in the parlor. John and Betsy stayed at Dr. Williams's. . . . Things with us remain much the same. Both armies entirely quiet, except sharp-shooting and a few cannon-shots every day. . . . I have never been more in prayer than during this campaign. Generally, indeed, during the storm of battle my mind is earnestly engaged in supplicating God's mercy upon our army, country, and cause, with special mention of our dearest ones. It is an immense relief to the spirit amid the perils and anxieties of such critical scenes thus to lay hold of unerring wisdom, infinite power, and unfailing goodness. I marvel how rational creatures can forego so great a privilege. Indeed, there are very few who have not been impressed during the war by the support which praying men derive from their intercourse with heaven. I hope to be privileged to attend worship somewhere this morning. . . . You would hardly know me. I had my hair and beard trimmed the other day in Richmond. A great relief, and I don't look quite so old." "Remote as is the prospect of getting a letter to you, I cannot longer refrain from at least writing, in the hope that some way may be found by which it may be conveyed to Lexington. Day before yesterday I received a brief telegram from Sandie, dated Lynchburg, 18th, saying he had just heard from you,—'all well,' —but no particulars of how you fared from the Yankees. I have been all the while as deeply anxious about you all as my trust in our all-faithful Divine Father and Saviour admitted. Sue wrote me a few days ago she had seen General Lee's family, a friend of whom had been in Lexington seeing about their silver at the time the Yankees approached; that he was at our house several times, and, indeed, saw you just before the Yankees arrived, and that you were all wonderfully calm and unterrified. Thankful I hope I am for so much encouraging intelligence from you. Still, I am anxious to learn how you are now provided,— whether they left you subsistence or whether they took your meat and flour, killed your cows, destroyed your garden, etc. The atrocious villany with which they thus war upon defenceless households would be incredible were it not so universal with them; and even with the constant recurrence of such outrages, they so falsify in their reports, and the outside world so receives their statements, that it will be difficult to have the truth recorded in history, or to make mankind believe that a people calling itself Christian could perpetrate such enormities. In Prince George they have let loose their negro soldiers to indulge at pleasure, their brutal passions, and the result beggars description. Rev. Mr. Platt and his mother-in-law, Mrs. Meade, who had there a happy home, have stated to me some of the facts. . . . My duties have been engrossing, yet you have been constantly in my thoughts. Waking and sleeping my heart is with you. Since we came over here on the 18th, Sue has not been able to communicate with me so regularly. There we passed notes every day. I am going to send a courier over to-day. . . . We are all well. Amid all the exposure of every kind God has graciously preserved me, and my health is good. We have also rations sufficient and are reasonably comfortable. I am camped on the north side of the Appomattox, as are Generals Lee and Beauregard, though most of the troops are on the south side. The enemy's chief effort is from the Appomattox, on the southeast, round beyond old Blanford Church, towards the Weldon Railroad. . . . On Sunday I was able to get late to church. Platt preached. He came to me afterwards and begged me to preach for him at night. I did so,—on the text from the second lesson in Titus, 'That blessed hope.' The gracious Spirit helped me, I believe. Monday and yesterday I was all day on the lines, adjusting batteries, etc. At times all is quiet as if no armies were here, then again the whole air is filled with noise of strife, and the earth fairly trembles under the thunder of battle." "Hoping there may be now communication open with Lexington, I indulge myself in writing to you again, intending to send a courier to Richmond early in the morning with this letter accompanying one to Sue. He goes by the early train,—three or four A.M.; will return in the afternoon, when I hope for tidings from you. Indeed, I cannot rest until I know what your condition is since the ravages of the Yankees. . . . We are in all this interruption and anxiety bearing a portion of our share in the great public distress resulting from the war. I have not expected, nor can I say I would, as a matter of principle, desire, too much exemption from the common experience of trouble connected with our great resistance of wrong. Anxiety, sympathy, privation, etc., disturb me as they do others. But if they come as incidents in the path of duty, surely I ought not to wish to be without my share of them. Only I would suffer alone, if I could, and spare all of you, my beloved ones. You, however, would hardly consent to that. . . . If no military hinderance prevent, I am to preach for Gibson to-morrow morning. General Wise expressed himself very warmly to me about my sermon last Sunday night. He said the text did him good: 'That blessed hope.' He thanked me, and spoke at length of sins, struggles, and faith. Said he 'would not give up his faith in Jesus for all the world besides.' Yet says the devil makes him kuss sometimes. A strange but interesting man. The war has greatly humbled him, he says. He finds himself a poor creature, whereas he thought a good deal of himself before." ". . . The Yankees have come and gone. The stand made on Saturday, June 11, by McCausland and the cadets and the burning of the bridge delayed them until four P.M. Then they came in by Mulberry Hill, crossing the river near Leyburn's mill,— crowds, crowds, crowds! I had often wished, if a battle was to be fought, that I might be near to hear. And I did hear! McCausland fired, and the wretches shelled the town for hours. Shells fell everywhere in town,—in Colonel Williamson's yard, into Mr. John Campbell's house, into Miss Baxter's house. One struck Colonel Reid's front door and almost struck his daughter A—; one fell in the garden here; one struck somewhere near us, as several small bullets were found in the upper porch here and at Captain Moore's. ". . . To our great delight Colonel Edwin drove up about two P.M. yesterday. To know how glad we were to see him you must be a defenceless woman and have been subjected to what we were. My horror of the American Yankees is great, but of the African Yankees! it is impossible to express it. One came into the kitchen Sunday morning and introduced himself as 'colored gentleman from head-quarters.' I ordered him out, and after about the third resolute assurance that he could not and should not stay there, he went away, saying, 'Them's coming, and of my color too, that will go where they please.' "Rose's letter to Sue, giving an account of your experience under Yankee insolence, reached me yesterday. I am indeed thankful that you were so providentially guarded from injury. He who hears and answers prayer has not been unmindful of the petitions constantly urged in your behalf. I hardly dared to hope you would come off so easily. That you are not rendered uncertain about subsistence from day to day is to me matter of deep thankfulness. You will, I suppose, have bread enough until the new wheat can be rendered into flour, and then your supply will, I hope, be ample. Your meat will hold out some time. The garden will yield a good deal, even though the drought, which is parching the fields here, should shorten your growth of vegetables. Your cows will give you milk and butter enough to add materially to your comfort, and the sugar, which you will get with Sue and Kate, or soon after, will help you with a daily cup of tea and occasionally in other ways. Should the molasses and other things get on from Augusta,* * When in the South, General Pendleton had made arrangements to purchase for his family one hundred pounds of Georgia sugar, a half-barrel of molasses, and some cotton cloth. These things could not be had in Virginia, and this small quantity cost fourteen hundred dollars,—more than a third part of his pay. The difficulty of transportation was so great that the sugar reached Richmond only just before this time,— the molasses and cotton did not arrive until midsummer. as they may when we can repress these raiders, you will have additional comfortable food. On the whole I am very grateful to God that you are in proportion so well provided for." "On Friday morning, 1st, I ran over by railroad to Richmond and saw them all. Sue was so sick that I deemed it a duty to get to see her, especially as I had all things in readiness in my department and there was general quiet on the lines. It was delightful to meet them all. After a pleasant night, oven-like though the heat was, I came off early Saturday morning. I hope they got off to-day and will soon be with you. . . . I feel very much for the people of Petersburg. They are obliged to leave homes through which shells are crashing, and encampments of them in the neighboring woods are not infrequent." "The armies are simply hurling defiance at each other night and day from their trenches, and receiving from each other missiles of all sorts, from a Minié bullet to a seventy-pound mortar-shell, so that there is a continual sense of insecurity to life, especially when any one approaches or leaves the trenches. At the same time the heat is stifling, the drought extreme, water not easy to get, even on our side, and the weariness of continual watching most trying indeed. . . . A drier, more terribly dusty, season I think I have hardly ever known. The very earth seems parched. This is particularly trying to our horses. . . . At one of my batteries there were some casualties yesterday, one of which I feel very sensibly. Lieutenant Reese, of Ross's company, Cutts's battalion, a fine young man, who was with us the first winter at Centreville and whom I have seen a good deal of, was struck by a thirty-pound Parrott shell and instantly killed. . . . I send you a small package of turnip-seed for which I gave only two dollars and a half! . . . I hope to attend Gibson's church to-morrow. Two shells have struck it, so there will not be many people." ". . . Our food is very costly, though sufficiently rough. The ration furnished is not half enough, and what is purchased costs somewhere about one hundred dollars a month for each. Coffee has now given out, and we are like the old woman who lived upon 'victuals and drink,'—bread, bacon, and cold water our support. But to beat the Yankees and gain our independence I would submit to vastly more." "Your letter of the 15th reached me yesterday. I wrote that day, too, to Mary. It did not occur to me that it was the anniversary of our wedding-day or I would have addressed the letter to you, in thankfulness for the ten thousand blessings which through heaven's mercy you have been instrumental in conferring on me these thirty-three years. The singular concurrence of day of week and month in this anniversary, occurring as it does only at intervals, and so few people choosing to be married on Friday, might have reminded me. But I suppose the peculiarities of my situation interfered with those associations which might have called to mind an event the most important and the happiest of my life. Next to the unmerited visitations of grace, which have given me hope of heaven, and possibly to the sacred influences of my early home, ought I to value you, my wife, as God's gift for my eternal good, as well as for my earthly happiness. Indeed, I have abundant reason to feel assured that, much as I owe to that early home, and wonderful as have been the gracious movements of the Spirit on my mind, you have been made the instrument to enable me to profit by them to the moderate extent I have done. . . . The long separations caused by this war are indeed a sore trial,—hardly an hour passes but I long for you and home." "The enemy is unusually silent. Two days ago I passed along our lines within very short musket range of thousands of Yankees and yet not a shot was fired, although our men and the Yankees, too, were walking about with indifference all along the respective lines of breastworks. After my observations had been made, and Charlie Hatcher and myself were riding away, some cannon-shots were fired, and one or two passed over our heads. I was shocked to notice two ladies in a carriage, which passed along a road just back of a very exposed front of our line. For the last five weeks it has been worth any man's life to ride there on horseback,—almost to appear on foot. Yet these girls seemed to have no more idea of danger than if there were no war in the world. We all repeated the saw, 'Where ignorance is bliss.' Happily, no cannon, mortar, or musket was fired at them." ". . . Grant, as you may see by the papers, is beginning a new manœuvre,—sending a large part of his force to the north side of James River. He seems to have surprised the troops over there supporting my old battery day before yesterday, or those troops did not behave as well as usual.* * Four guns of the Rockbridge battery were captured. . . . My idea is that Grant does not intend a bona fide attempt on Richmond at this juncture; but as he has, by means of his pontoon-bridge near Bermuda Hundred, defended by his gunboats, a shorter line to and fro than we have via Drewry's Bluff, he will try to draw General Lee over there, and then suddenly recross all his force to the neighborhood of Petersburg, and make a concentrated attack either on the line near the town or on that across the peninsula between the James and the Appomattox. . . . I was out till midnight last night getting off some artillery to accompany the troops to the north side. We have all along had a good deal there, but General Lee wanted more, and sent for me to advise about it near bedtime. The Yankees were throwing mortar shells at the time, and causing thereby quite an imposing scene, as luminous curves would appear in the sky, terminating in a lurid flash with loud report. One of these burst near Lieutenant-Colonel Poague's tent, a short distance behind the lines, and sent a fragment through the tent, though injuring nobody. As I rode back alone, having sent George Peterkin and the courier who attended me to carry orders to some batteries, I perceived one of these comet-like missiles advancing apparently with precise direction to the spot I occupied in the road. A ready spur sent my horse twenty steps beyond the line of danger, and I was as safe for that time as you were in Lexington. So easy is it, when one is on the alert, to avoid one of these projectiles. Of course when many of them are flying at the same time it is not so easy. We have on the lines a number of bomb-proofs, —square pits dug in the ground and covered over with logs and earth. Under these the men lie when mortar shells are flying and no other fighting is going on. The day before I was last out on a part of our lines some men were lying under one of these not sufficiently strong, when a large shell fell on it, broke through, exploded, and killed three men and wounded four. The next morning when I visited the place I found it perfectly easy to step out of the way of a similar shell." "Again this Sunday afternoon I delight myself in writing to you, and the more so because of a peculiar joy we all feel at a most important success here yesterday, and because also of a feeling of thankful satisfaction which I experienced from the services of this morning. The success of yesterday will prove, I believe, one of the most important of the campaign. You have seen intimations in the papers about Grant's undermining our lines. It has been suspected, and we have had countermines made to try to ascertain the fact and foil the Yankees if it were so. Nothing of the kind was discovered. Notwithstanding, at daylight yesterday the enemy sprung a mine on a projecting point of our line, blew up a battery of four guns, and engulfed a number of men, how many is not yet exactly known,—perhaps over a hundred. Of course they were on the qui vive, while our men were still dreaming out their last nap for the night. The Yankees, therefore, had it all their own way for a little while, and rushed into the gap by hundreds. Before a great while, however, General Elliot, of Fort Sumter fame, who commanded the brigade there stationed, formed his men and held the Yankees at bay. I did not hear of the occurrence till breakfast-time. Immediately after breakfast I mounted my horse and, accompanied by George Peterkin and a courier, rode to the field near the scene. There we met General Lee and staff, also lately arrived. Dispositions were promptly made for a charge upon the Yankees to drive them back. This brought on a furious cannonade from, I suppose, a hundred guns on their side. Under this fire Peterkin and I walked to the front along a covered way,—that is, a ditch with earth thrown up on both sides to protect persons walking in it. At a certain point we had to leave this and cross an open space swept by cannon-shot of every kind, from ten-pound rifle to sixty-pound mortars, shells, etc. In the battery to which we went it was the same. Two of those sixty-pound shells fell and burst within ten feet of us, but we were preserved then, as later under bullets and all the multiplied dangers of battle. Our men behaved most gallantly, and drove back the Yankees at a run, killing a large number, capturing over four hundred, and recovering all of our line except the chasm, which could not be at once approached, and was filled with crowds of the enemy, negroes as well as whites. A pause now ensued, and arrangements were made on our side for another charge, to kill, capture, and drive back all the other adventurous Yankees and regain the remainder of our works they held. I came out, therefore, to examine another battery, some three or four hundred yards to the left of where I had been, and sent George Peterkin with a message to Colonel Walker about certain guns in an important position. On the way I met Colonel Weisiger, who had commanded Mahone's brigade in the charge and been wounded. I got him to mount my courier's horse and thus get to a hospital or his quarters. This left me entirely alone, and I felt, liable as I was to be shot, I might lie on the field and no one know where I was. Returning, I met Lieutenant-Colonel Huger, just from a battery nearest the chasm. He was just visiting a gallant artillery officer— Major Gibbs, of South Carolina, a brother-in-law of General Alexander—brought an hour before from the field dangerously wounded. I accompanied Huger, and found poor Gibbs had received a Minié ball just below the neck, breaking the collar-bone, etc. I hoped it was not dangerous, but on full examination the surgeons found an important artery cut and deemed the wound almost fatal. His wife was expected in Richmond yesterday, on a visit to him from the South. I hear to-day he is doing well, as is General Elliot, who was shot a little lower, through the upper part of the lungs. ". . . You will have seen mention in the papers of General Meade's having sent a flag of truce to get permission to bury his dead near our lines. It was granted, and from five A.M. yesterday till nine there was no firing anywhere along the works. You would all have taken interest in visiting the scene of the explosion and fight, as hundreds did. The chasm made by the mine is enormous, and the masses of earth hurled out scores of yards are almost as large as houses. Some of these masses are almost as hard as rock. One cannon, carriage and all, was thrown nearly, if not quite, a hundred yards. Dead negroes and Yankees lay literally in piles in and around the chasm, all slaughtered by our cannon and by the infantry in their impetuous charges. Lying in the hot sun Saturday and Sunday, they were disgustingly decomposing when the work of burial was undertaken yesterday morning; and it was instructive to notice the loathing with which the Yankees took up and bore to the ditches prepared the offensive remains of their African soldiers, while the living negroes would half lift, half drag, their putrid brethren. Altogether it was, indeed, a sickening scene. . . . My good soldier, Major Gibbs, is doing well. His wife is expected from South Carolina this evening. His father is already with him. General Elliot was suffering much this morning, though they have hope for him." "Sandie, who came in poorly Friday in advance of Early's army, leaves us this afternoon for Staunton, and thinks he may be able to get a letter to you. Yesterday I was comforted by the batch of notes you had written Sue and Kate up to the 17th. Your letter written this day fortnight also reached me yesterday. I thank God for the peace you feel, and trust it may be His holy will to keep you from all evil of body and soul. "We are encamped just where we lay after the battle of Sharpsburg. It is too terrifically hot for active operations, and both sides have to keep comparatively quiet. Life must be almost unbearable where you are, and I expect, though we get no accounts of it, that there is much sickness. How did the ration of fresh beef we sent down taste? I wish we had more to send. . . . We punished the Yankees soundly at Snicker's Ferry, and again at Winchester last Sunday, the 26th. We went on down to Martinsburg and stayed there a couple of days, and then proceeded to Williamsport and crossed a party of cavalry, which went to Hagerstown and burned a large quantity of stores. At the same time (Thursday) we sent two brigades of cavalry,— two thousand one hundred strong,—under McCausland and Bradley Johnson, to Chambersburg with orders to return via Cumberland, bringing out all the cattle, etc., possible. They were also to collect one hundred thousand dollars in gold or five hundred thousand dollars in greenbacks to reimburse Alexander Boteler, Andrew Hunter, and Ed. I. Lee for the burning of their houses, and in default of the payment their instructions were to burn the town. The wantonness of burning those three houses was perfectly diabolical, and I trust we may have the opportunity to repay Hunter for it. His men hardly suffered enough at Winchester the other day,—they ran too easily. The rout was as utter as that of Banks. Our demonstration this time has brought the Sixth and Nineteenth Corps to Harper's Ferry." ". . . You see by the papers, if you get them, that Grant is trying another dodge, making a real effort below Chaffin's Bluff. General Lee has been over there all the week; others of us have to remain here to secure these lines, and artillery is of the first importance for the purpose. To-day the enemy made a little move again on the Weldon Railroad and tore up a small portion. Hearing the firing, I rode in that direction. It was only a few regiments, easily met and driven back. Heavy rain did not allow them to burn the cross-ties. . . . We are living roughly now, but it keeps us all in good health. Only two meals a day, and they such at times as you could not help laughing at: a few scraps of the fattest bacon, fried, some fried apples, and bread,—corn or wheat Corn and tomatoes we sometimes get for dinner. Yesterday and to-day we have had a little of the valley beef. How do you all fare? Hardly well enough, I fear, to keep your bones covered" ". . . I was quite unwell Saturday and yesterday, lying in bed at Mr. Lynch's, whose house is only a hundred yards or so from my camp. It was a slight attack, brought on by indigestible food, attended, however, with fever. Mr. Lynch had kindly invited me, in case I should be sick, to come directly to his house, and accordingly early Saturday morning, having been right sick all night, I walked over and soon went to bed. They have been very kind, and now I am relieved of all disease, though am hardly strong enough to be out on the field to-day, as I otherwise would be, for arrangements are in progress for more severe work. The movement of the enemy towards our right, briefly mentioned in my last, turns out more serious than then seemed. We have punished them seriously, but with some loss to ourselves, and yet they hold the Weldon Railroad in force and strongly intrenched. . . . We had rather the enemy should not hold that road, as it is our most convenient route for obtaining Southern corn and other supplies. His effort on the north side of the James was a complete failure. . . . ". . . A good success here again yesterday evening. Two thousand prisoners and eight pieces of artillery captured on the Weldon Railroad some miles south of the city." ". . . My ride to-day is to be to the heavy battery at—on James River. From some facts mentioned to me yesterday by Colonel Baldwin, our chief of ordnance, I think it necessary to examine at once into the state of things there. The chief difficulty is ague and fever prostrating the men. I was yesterday along the lines where we have reason to believe that the enemy is mining again with a view to another blow up. We are tunnelling also, and can, I think, foil them. . . . You would be interested to witness the mortar shelling sometimes at night. The shells with their fuses burning appear like small stars moving through the sky, and some of them are thrown to such prodigious height that they seem as if aimed at the very stars. When exploding high in the air the noise of their disruption is deafening. The Yankees throw some as large as thirteen inches in diameter, weighing when filled about two hundred and fifty pounds. These make a report like thunder when they burst. Frequently they strike the ground without bursting, and then the depth to which they penetrate into the hardest soil is astonishing. I had measured day before yesterday several of the enormous cavities they had made and they were eleven feet deep. One of them falling on a man would literally, in Scripture language, 'grind him to powder.'" "Matters quiet here now. . . . I had yesterday fine congregations and most attentive. There seemed to be a good spirit prevailing. What a privilege it is thus to minister to men in things pertaining to God! Saturday, George Peterkin and I were shielded again by the Almighty arm. Visiting an exposed point near the enemy's canal across Dutch Gap, we escaped a shell by perhaps the sixth part of a second. It exploded just behind us and very close. A moment later for us, or earlier for it, and we must have been struck. I desire to be daily more grateful and devoted." "My beloved Wife and Children all,—It has pleased God to permit a heavy grief to fall upon us. Our dear Sandie, so severely wounded and far away, where we not only cannot minister to his comfort, but cannot learn of his actual condition. "I wrote you a hurried letter yesterday morning giving a brief account of my journey and arrival at camp. After sending it I rode out to examine into the condition of the artillery on the lines here. My ride was long. Everything appeared well. The enemy has extended his lines several miles west, and ours have been correspondingly stretched in that direction. They are well adjusted. . . . This morning I devoted to preparing my sermon, and just before ten started with Barnwell, Cooke, and Dandridge for Pegram's quarters, five miles off. A large congregation was assembled. They seemed devout and attentive, and God's blessing, I trust, was granted. As agreed yesterday, we stayed to dinner. On returning I found notes from George Peterkin and Dudley taking it for granted I would move over to the north side of the James, but one also from General Lee saying he thought it advisable for me to remain in charge of the artillery on our lines around Petersburg. This, therefore, I shall do; but as everything seems quiet just here at present, I must ride over in the morning and see General Lee, there being some matters in which it will be well for me to consult him. "Although it is late, and I have had a busy day, I must indulge myself in writing. I got back this evening from the north side of the James. Yesterday I rode along our line to the river; crossed at Chaffin's; dined at General Lee's head-quarters. Today we examined the lines over there; very safe, I think. My staff all back here with me. It is now some time past ten, and mortar shelling is making the region re-echo." "My dear General,—I have been so disturbed by an omission which occurred when I had the privilege of dining with you day before yesterday that I feel bound to write a brief note of apology, if it were, as is not unlikely, a misunderstanding of my own. It was the failure on my part to ask a blessing at the table. I expected to do so, and awaited your request to that effect, but did not notice one by sign or word. I may, however, have overlooked such intimation from you, or you may have taken for granted I would without it say grace. Or you may have for the time forgotten my sacred office under the military relations in which we commonly meet. In such case, however, you would, I suppose, have officiated yourself. At any rate, there was, I infer, some misunderstanding; and although not one of the more important matters of life, I would not have it pass on my own part unexplained. "My dear General,—I have received your note of the 19th. I had expected you to ask a blessing on our table, and turned to you with that view. It was my fault, I think, in not making a more pointed request, which I should have done. Finding you apparently preparing to take your seat I failed to request your office, and, as is very frequently the case with me at our informal camp meals, offered a silent petition of thanks. "This day has, if possible, brought our dear child and you all more vividly and constantly before me. It was this day four weeks that he received his death-wound. . . . Our fallen nature finds it hard to realize how blessed they are whom God prepares and takes to Himself, and how peacefully we may walk with Him even in sorrow while waiting all the days of our appointed time. . . . To dwell on the loss and on the trying circumstances of his removal, as there is some natural tendency in my mind, would so accumulate grief as to render it painful beyond expression and unfit me for duty. Such indulgence, therefore, I know is not right. . . . It seems to me you may, as I try to realize myself, find pleasing solaces in many natural scenes. The sweet blue heavens speak of where the beloved of our hearts is now rejoicing; the lovely landscape, with its varied beauties, tells of scenes far more exquisite in which his ransomed spirit from henceforth delights, and where we may hope to join him in sacred joy." . . . "The movements of the enemy here on Thursday and Friday prevented my making the engagement for service with some troops as I intended. . . . The satisfaction of having our dear son's remains suitably disposed where they will be likely to remain undisturbed, and where ourselves and others who valued him can visit his honored grave, is a cause for thankfulness. But the incidents connected with that removal and reinterment could not but be to you all a reopening of the sources of sorrow, while the denial to myself of the privilege of sharing with you this sad tribute to our beloved has been to me a hard sacrifice of domestic to public duty." . . . "About our dear child's memoirs you must all do just what you severally feel able and inclined to do. Among my vast piles of papers left with Cousin Mildred Taylor at Orange Court-House, when we marched on this campaign the 1st of May, there are all the letters he wrote me from time to time for the last two or three years up to the present campaign. I wish to have all those packages taken home as soon as I can, and then the dear child's letters all gathered out, examined, and used as may be best." . . . "I am rejoiced that you have arranged for a supply of wood. It is very wise, costly though it be. Wood for our poor fellows on the lines is a great problem. No wagon can approach them, and yet it takes a vast deal. Think of men wet and cold, with precarious fire, without good shelter, and liable to be shot at any hour day or night! Yet they get along surprisingly. I was both pleased and pained in my walk along the trenches yesterday. Am off again presently. . . . How my heart does cling to you all! Our dear Sandie seems as much in my thoughts as the first week of our mourning, and with an inexpressible sense of loss. He comes before me in many different scenes: as in his boyhood, student life, and in the army; when he and I went to Moss Neck; as he stood before me with his beloved bride; as we were at home together last winter. But I must try to think more of him as rejoicing in the Master's likeness and presence, and awaiting us all there. These habitual thoughts of him are directly connected with you all. My life is, as it were, a double one,—with you in spirit, here in necessary business and bodily presence." "I occupy a little time to-night in writing. I had to be so hurried this morning because General Lee had sent for me. I went over, and learned from him of certain movements of the enemy which required corresponding arrangements on our part. My share in them kept me out all day. Part of the time was under pretty severe mortar shelling. . . . Must tell you of my trip to Richmond to meet Sue and General Edwin. Her letter did not reach me, but yours of Friday came in time to enable me to take the cars at 2.30 P.M. on Monday. I thus reached Richmond some time before them. From Mrs. Bransford's, where I promised to stay, I went to the train and met the travellers. The next day we were a good deal together, though each had something special to do. I saw the President and Secretary of War. The President quite sick with neuralgia. Tuesday night I stayed at Dr. Williams's. The travellers had to be off yesterday morning at seven,—so we had breakfast at 6.30. I accompanied them to the cars, and took leave as the train started, commending them to God's gracious care. . . . The President talked with me about our dear son. Said what a loss he was to the country as well as to us. If this world were all, or chief, what a strange dispensation would be the removal of one every way so superior! But in view of the heavenly world to which he is exalted, it is no longer perplexing. That fine disposition, those noble endowments and attainments, and the consecrating grace which rendered him through the Mediator acceptable to God, find freer and happier scope in the blessed sphere to which he is advanced. Sure of this, we can combat the sadness, and find more than comfort in the certainty for him and the hope for ourselves." "The movements to which I have alluded in my recent letters have pretty much subsided, without much result on either side. The enemy made a great effort to destroy the Weldon Railroad, but were so pressed by our forces that they did but little damage, —tearing up some ten miles of the track, though burning no important bridge. We hoped A. P. Hill might destroy the column thus engaged, but either we were too slow or the inclement weather rendered it impossible. The enemy returned and so did our troops. There is still, however, some excitement along the lines and everybody kept on the alert." "I send Mary Williams's note, giving the joyful intelligence that Sue and General Edwin got out from Wilmington safely."* * General Edwin Lee had been sent to Canada to carry out some instructions privately given him with regard to matters believed to be of much importance to the Southern Confederacy. Feeble health prevented his doing active work in the field or the trenches, but it was believed that his sagacity and prudence, combined with his readiness of resource and absolute fearlessness, rendered him capable for the work assigned him. He was therefore given a sick furlough, and directed to proceed to Montreal and obey the verbal orders received in Richmond. He was permitted to take his wife, if the officers and crew on one of the blockade-running vessels would let her go,—some of them being superstitiously averse to having a woman on board. "At present everything looks quiet here, although there is random cannonading every day and picket skirmishing day and night. On Friday, while George Peterkin and myself were on the lines examining an important point, a severe cannonade broke out, and though no shots came very near us, one of our artillery officers, Lieutenant-Colonel Moseley, was instantly killed by a shell, which took off his head, and several soldiers were wounded at the same time. "You will all be grievously disappointed, as I am, that I cannot get home. General Lee says the enemy is so active everywhere that he deems my absence inexpedient. Language cannot describe my feelings of distress under the privation, and especially that I am debarred the privilege of formally dedicating that dear little Sandie to God in His own ordinance of baptism. . . . I had saddle-bags packed and everything ready to start, only awaiting the furlough from General Lee on his return from Richmond, where he had been for a couple of days, when his note came desiring to see me. I went. He wishes me to inspect to-morrow the heavy batteries at Chaffin's Bluff. So I have before me that cold ride, for it has turned very cold. That, however, is a trifle. As I cannot get to you, duty here is best, no matter how uncomfortable." "Having written yesterday I should not do so again, but as this is a day of special significance to me in my highest relations, I feel drawn to a special communication with you. I am to-day fifty-five years old, and the remembrance brings up the past with its privileges and its sins, its joys and its sorrows, and points to the future with its trials and mercies, its uncertainty and end. The most amazing fact that strikes me in the retrospect is that so much favor has been granted to one so unworthy." "A happy New Year to you all in a spiritual sense, if under affliction it cannot be so in an earthly sense. We cannot expect to retain our earthly blessings, and may well find our chief happiness in those which are spiritual and unfailing. . . . It is very cold, but my tent is comfortable. As I listen to the picket-firing at night, and sometimes at all hours of the night, I deeply feel for the poor fellows there meeting death in one of its most distressing forms. Several have been found frozen to death at their posts when comrades went to relieve them,—one reason, no doubt, insufficiency of nourishing food." ". . . We have had here last night and to-day an extraordinary rain. Such an outpouring from the skies has not occurred, I think, for two years. You have probably had your share in Lexington. I have thought of you and of the leaks in the roof. How do you get along with them? Yesterday brought me a letter from Walker's daughter Nannie, of the 2d. They had not heard from him, and had no expectation of his being released." "Your letter from Nassau of December 16 reached me last week, and gave me great pleasure from the assurance that General Edwin and yourself were thus far safe. I had not suffered much from anxiety on your account, as somehow I had the feeling you would be taken care of. Still, it is a comfort to hear that you are so far at least safe from Yankee outrage. The perils of the sea are, in my estimation, as nothing in comparison with even a moderate risk of falling into their hands. . . . You must try, my daughter, and enjoy your foreign sojourn, so far, at least, as not to lose the benefits of it intellectually as well as physically. The sadness we all feel at the untimely removal of dear Sandie, although natural, ought not to be indulged, because it is too far a selfish condition of thought and feeling. We are almost as sure of his being, through the all-sufficiency of his Saviour and ours, in heaven as we are that so blessed an abode has been prepared for God's servants. And this assurance, rightly cherished, may well authorize the most cheerful state of heart we can cultivate. "My Darling Lel,—Although I have time this morning for only a hurried letter, I must write and address it to you, as your proper turn. Yesterday I went to General Lee's on business, and although nothing was said about my getting home at this time, I become satisfied that it is best for me not now to think more of it. The burden on him is so heavy that those on whom he at all leans ought to help him to bear it as well as they can. "Before this reaches Lexington you will have seen the report of another disaster to our cause in the fall of Fort Fisher. Whether Wilmington will fall remains to be seen. By looking at the map you will see that Wilmington is some distance from the sea, while Fort Fisher is on a point of the beach jutting out at the mouth of Cape Fear River, which is said to be obstructed and pretty strongly defended. The chief advantage of the town to us, now that blockade-running from it is cut off, consists in its being the point of junction of one or two of our railroads. But we still have an interior line. This interior line from the South by which we get corn, especially for our army, passes through Danville and Greensborough and Charlotte, North Carolina, and Columbia, South Carolina, to Kingsville, and thence to Branchville, South Carolina, where it meets the railroad between Charleston and Augusta; and it is this point, Branchville, towards which it seems Sherman is directing his steps. His getting it will cut us off from railroad communication with Georgia and the States beyond and give us still more trouble. . . . All this, my daughter, I write that you may see on the map what is going on." Dear Sir,—Circumstances with us are so favorable now that I would be very glad to have you come and preach for us, if the nature of your duties will permit. We have a commodious church, a large congregation, and a ripe state of religious interest. I would be glad that you would address us twice, if convenient, and once, at least, use the ritual of the Episcopal Church. I would be glad that you would consider yourself my guest. May we expect you next Sabbath, if the weather is favorable? "Our hearts were inexpressibly cheered this evening by the receipt of your letter of May 11, which is the only intelligence we have had direct from you since that written March 3, by Mr. West. Your mother writes that she has sent us all of your letters, but not one of them has ever reached us except E—'s, giving the description of your first journey. We embrace every opportunity of sending letters to points where they can be mailed. You would be more than surprised to see how quiet and comfortable we are here. The enemy has paid us but one short visit, of which mamma wrote you this week. There were three hundred, and they stayed only two or three hours, their sole errand being to arrest Mr. Letcher,—on what plea no one knows. There are as yet no 'Freedmen' here, and our 'servants' are still in statu quo. Mr. Slow was permitted to go with Henry Douglass to Jefferson, to visit his family, some time ago. Mrs. P—'s Harriet had to be notified to leave three days ago, as she seemed inclined to assert her equality. Their benefactors tell them in proclamations that, though 'free', they do not share their masters' property, and will have to work to support themselves even harder than they have done heretofore. We have an armed patrol which keeps perfect order and makes them stand in some fear. Dudley has been with us since Tuesday. We never hear a word from Richmond, though papa has received forty dollars of the one hundred dollars.* * Before leaving Richmond, General Edwin Lee had felt it necessary to make some provision for his wife, in case he should be captured by the blockading fleet and she forced to return home. He therefore sold all their household and personal effects, and brought a hundred dollars in gold, which he committed to safe-keeping in Richmond; and after the surrender, this money, with twenty dollars sent them by Bishop Johns, was all the family in Lexington had for several months. It is curious to remember that the articles which brought the highest price were General Lee's wedding suit and some bridal finery of his wife. We could not live without it. Papa has gotten both gardens in fine order, and the rain, which has been falling all day, will help all of his pets. The big lot which we planted in corn seems to bid fair to repay our labors, and I hope our patches of watermelons and muskmelons will flourish too. The whole atmosphere here is redolent with the sweet perfume of the thousand roses which delight our eyes. The bushes were much killed by the severe winter, but the bloom, though not so profuse as I have seen it, is very beautiful. We have had three little dishes of strawberries for our tea, and sugar with them too. But the baby grows beyond everything here. He is devoted to both of his grandparents, and it is amusing to see their efforts to entice him to leave the arms of one and go to the other. The little monkey has had so little experience of the good things of this life that he refuses both sugar and strawberries. We got the four dresses by Mr. Charles Lee, and we cannot express our gratitude and thanks for them. Nancy and Rose took the calicoes, mamma the chally de laine, and the other is put by for Lella. . . . Papa is sleepy and tired by the setting out of several hundred cabbage-plants, so we must leave him the privilege of retiring. We are afraid to look into the future, and can only trust ourselves in the hands of our all-seeing and all-merciful Father, who doeth all things well." "My dear Child,—Your letter of May 25 reached us yesterday in a bundle, sent by Mrs. Lee, containing two mousseline dresses and a dozen beautiful handkerchiefs. . . . You ask how we get on. Much as usual. The 'Freed' have not left yet, but will do almost nothing. We have plenty of flour, but not a bit of meat, though we have only been a few days with a dinner of herbs. This day week we had dried apples, lettuce, and our Georgia molasses. The next morning before breakfast Colonel Gilham sent me a fore-quarter of nice mutton, which made us comfortable dinners for four days. Yesterday and to-day we dine on herbs. True to my resolution not to open the molasses until your papa's return, we have it now in this our scantest time. We opened it on the day you wrote last, Ascension Day. Dudley was here, so Mary made a good pudding of the cherries we dried last summer, and we thought it delightful. Lest you have not received our letters, I must tell you again that your papa is at work frequently from five in the morning until six in the evening. I trust it may please Heaven to give us fruitful seasons and a rich reward for all his labors. He has the garden in beautiful order. . . . "My dear Daughter,—Your Cousin Bob, who came on a brief visit last Friday, leaves us to-morrow morning, and as he expects to take a trip on business as far as Washington, and probably to New York, his going furnishes an opportunity not to be lost of communicating with General Edwin and yourself. Your last letter written on Ascension Day duly reached us, greatly to the comfort of all the household, for hopeful as we are that you will both continue safe and well where you are, we are always anxious to hear freshly and definitely of your well-being. "My dear Papa,—It was an unspeakable pleasure to me to receive your long letter last night. It is our greatest comfort to be able to communicate with our friends and loved ones, and to feel that we need not dread the interruption of this precious intercourse at any moment. I am so thankful, too, that you are safe and comparatively so comfortable. I hope you will soon get the rest of the money from Richmond, as I am sure it will contribute to your comfort. For a while I was most anxious about your personal safety, especially after the indictment of General Lee. But now I begin to believe that your view of the case is the correct one, and that General Grant means to have his parole respected. The papers say that Stanton ordered him to be arrested, but General Ord refused to do it, saying he would resign first. Then Grant interfered and said it should not be done. This has been a comfort to me, for, even if they do try and find him guilty, it will be absurd to talk of punishing a man whom they cannot even arrest. And safety for him will be safety for all his army. I cannot think either that wholesale confiscation will take place, for the Northern papers are beginning to be very earnest upon the utter impoverishment of the South and the absolute necessity of letting the people alone, and giving them securities for their remnant of property to insure anything like recuperation of the energy and prosperity of the country. I think that Northern financiers will ere long take the alarm also, and—out of sheer selfishness, the consciousness that Southern productiveness is the necessary basis of Northern wealth—will influence the law-makers and tax-voters to something more of justice towards Southern property-holders. As to the papers, I don't wonder at your being disgusted with them, and yet, situated as we are, we read them eagerly, for through them only can we gain the least idea of the conditions of the people and state of things at the South. And the changes and phases of public feeling at the North are not without importance to us. I am (D. V.) certainly coming home as soon as I can get an escort, but you must not say a word about it. I do trust most earnestly that matters may subside by winter, so that Edwin can get a pardon and permission to return. Do you think us utterly demoralized for talking of such a thing? I assure you we don't feel so, and the dose will be a nauseating, bitter one, take it when we may. But I don't think it will be so bad as exile. None know the horrible dread of that but those who have experienced it. There is not, I believe, the smallest prospect of Southern independence until the final breaking up into many governments of the overgrown United States power, and if it is to become a republic, I for one don't want to see it. They must all drift into anarchy or tyranny. There is nowhere that the masses of people can go and be better off; and if we are to live under the Yankee rule, hateful as it is, I cannot see dishonor or perjury in promising to obey the laws. As for the amnesty oath, as Dan Lucas says, you only swear to support the Constitution and everything heretofore done in violation thereof. But for the future don't bind yourself to anything but the Constitution. I must confess Pierpont is a harder mouthful for me than Johnson. But if he is not the governor of the State no one else is, and I suppose bad rule is better than none. To do the creature justice, I think he does in a measure desire to ameliorate the condition and gain the approbation of his unwilling subjects. And while I share your cordial contempt for the men who have so quickly rushed forward to take him by the hand and make what they can for themselves, still I am inconsistent enough to be rather glad that they have done it. He is said to be so immensely flattered at their notice as to have some dawning aspirations after the name and manners of a 'Virginia gentleman.' And low as their standard and influence is apt to be, it must be better and more for the interest of the State and people than those of the miserable creatures who surround him in Alexandria. Of course this is the way matters look from outside to one disposed to try and find the best in what is all so bad. "General,—As one of the commissioners for adjusting the terms of surrender at Appomattox Court-House, April 10, 1865, I address you a brief appeal in view of occurrences recently reported. "Rev. and dear Brother,—Bishop Johns was here last week and left one hundred dollars, which some one had given him (I think) for any of our clergy. He directed me to send twenty dollars each to five of our brethren, of whom you are one. I have nothing to do but obey orders, and you will find the amount enclosed. The other enclosure, a gold piece, ten dollars, I presume George has written about. I think it came through Mrs. Dr. Williams. I heard from 'E. G. Lee' under date June 5, Montreal, Canada West. His health has greatly improved. It seems the order of Providence that the North should overrun the South in the New World as in the Old. But here, as there, the South may impress the North with its civilization and religion, and be the real conqueror in the end. I doubt not, however, that you leave all in the hands of God. I have been greatly comforted by four lines, the author of which I do not know,—viz.: "in reply to yours received I can only state that I was ordered here to relieve Lt.-Col. McLeester and receive my instructions from him his instructions in your case is that you are not to leave this county until I hear from him in case he neglects to notify me until August the 1st." "You will be required to abide by the following. I. You are not to use any Treasonable Language in the pulpit. II. You are not to use any disrespectable Language against the U. S. Officials in any way. III. You will be required to pray for the President of the U. S. & the Officials thereof. Any violation of the above will subject you to immediate arrest & you will be sent to Hd. Qrts. for trial. "Your quibbling would be impertinent were it not contemptible. When you are prepared to use the prescribed form of prayer—not a garbled quotation from another part of the Prayer-Book—I will request the proper authorities to permit your church to be opened. ". . . The papers will show you somewhat of what we have done. I have participated in the return of the diocese, as on the whole under the circumstances was the right thing. We will talk it over. All friends thank me for my part. My conscience is peaceful under it, though the necessity of the step grieves me." "My dear Brother,—I propose to give a month to extra preaching in the missionary field embraced in our Convocation, but also going over into Amherst at the earnest solicitation of Brother Smith; but it occurs to me that I may be intruding into your bounds, of which I wish to be informed, though I am not sure that the authority of 'Convocation' has come as yet to be much respected. "Dear Brother Pendleton,—I received yours from Abingdon to-day. I believe it is the plain duty of ministers in the neighborhood of destitute places to give them at least one service in the year. I have been in the habit of doing this for years without asking any questions of vestries. Others, also, by doing the same thing have kept these places alive, and some of them growing. . . . Had I known that the Lees would not be at home I should have arranged differently, but as everything is fixed, suppose I shall adhere to the plan, unless you will come to Staunton and spend the Sunday there, which I had intended for you, and let us have a big meeting there, should Brother Latane wish it, which, judging others by myself, I assume that he does. He writes me very urgently to-day to meet him on the 11th and 12th at Aylett's, in King William, where there is the loudest call for services and, he thinks, the greatest promise of usefulness. If C—, who is spending the summer here, will preach for me, I have half a mind to go. My tour up the valley I propose beginning on the 20th, stopping at Middletown, and shall, I suppose, have services once or twice a day from there on to Staunton. Let me hear from you before you leave for Bath."* * On a similar missionary tour. "I got through all my appointments and hope some good was done, especially in Amherst, which was the only point of expectation in that line beyond our Convocation limits." . . . ". . . Much as I should enjoy a good long talk with you, and still more a series of preachings, prayers, and exhortations, interspersed with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, this pleasure will not be mine shortly unless you will come down here, where, if you will come, we will certainly have them with this difference and additional satisfaction to me, that the preaching, etc., would be in your hands." "Dear Brother,—I have a strong desire to send my son George, a lad of eighteen years, to Washington College, Virginia, and hence beg to be excused for troubling you with a note of inquiry concerning the conditions under which a student is admitted to that institution, and his probable annual expenses there. ". . . What a week to be remembered at 'Oakland' is this last week of Bob's sojourn there with his family, under the roof with his dear old mother, and amid the scenes consecrated by so many precious memories! His departure on the great Christian errand, for a heathen land so far away, while our beloved aunt is drawing so near the term of a very protracted pilgrimage, is to me very impressive as illustrating the supremacy of those great concerns and those precious hopes which lie beyond this season of duty, separation, and trial. "My dear Friend,—Permit me to introduce to your kind and favorable consideration my young friend Melville Jackson,* * The present assistant bishop of Alabama. the son of Dr. S. K. Jackson, now of Norfolk, and for many years my family physician and friend. Young Jackson is a descendant of that family of Jacksons that gave our Church five valuable ministers; he is a grandson of Rev. Edward Jackson, long rector of our congregation in Winchester. Melville is a communicant of our Church, and, as far as my observation extends, consistent. He is possessed of a mind far above mediocrity, amiable and sociable in his disposition, and, with watchful care and judicious training, I doubt not he will make 'his mark' in the world and most probably in the Church. He will be necessarily exposed to many temptations in Lexington, more so at this time than at any previous period, from the extraordinarily large number of young men congregated there, not only from Virginia, but from all the Southern States. A safeguard against which he will find in your pastoral care, to which I commend him. "My dear Friend,—Your note of the 5th instant was received in due time, and gave great pleasure to Mrs. Johnston and myself, although we cannot hope that she will be able to make such a drive as that to Lexington for ten or fifteen days yet. She has had a severe illness since your visit, and is just beginning to recover, and is, of course, very feeble. Be assured, however, that we will not let an opportunity to see Mrs. Pendleton and yourself escape. "My dear little Girls,—I have received from your beloved rector a check for one hundred and two dollars, to be distributed among the sufferers in this State. I thank you very much for it, and I thank God for having put it into your hearts, dear children, to seek to do good to those who are in distress, for the sake of your dear Saviour, who has done so much for you and for all of us. "My dear Brother,—Yours, containing a check for one hundred dollars, reached me this morning, and I hasten, before the mail closes, to tell you how much I was gratified by, and how grateful I am for, your most kind remembrance of me and our poor and troubled people. "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—Your letter of July 27 was duly received. . . . More than a dozen additional ministers might well be employed in the diocese to-day, but I do not know where they are to be had or the means to support them. . . . All we can hope to do, I am persuaded, in many places and under present circumstances, is to keep alive the things that remain. I am very glad you feel so much interested in this part of the field. My sympathies were very much moved by what I saw in Amherst. I trust you will never hesitate to write and suggest anything you may think I can do for this or any other part of the diocese." "My dear Mr.—,—You ought not thus to keep me in the dark as to what you may be able to do. "REV. AND DEAR BROTHER,—Yours of 6th received. With respect to your church, if I can do anything per aliam I shall be very glad. . . . "Yours received. My friend Rev. Dr.—drinking whiskey at a bar or such like place, as reported to me by a gentleman in justification of his own views and practice, and suitably treated by me in the abstract, turned out at next hand to have been at his tent door, at the next inside of his tent, at the next the whiskey was turned into wine, and that at his own table, and as this must have been at his own expense, I am doubtful about even that, not on account of his liberality, which is well known, but because I am doubtful whether he had the money. Still, your letter develops a considerable amount of heterodoxy, which may give me some trouble in the future. . . . Will do what I can for your church elsewhere." ". . . The New Year of your life and of time come in so near together that for them both at once I can wish you many, many returns, and all of heaven's best blessings, temporal and spiritual. I was thinking this morning about your age. Can it be possible that you have reached your sixtieth birthday, or have I added a year to the days of your life? I could wish heartily that you might be spared to see a hundred and sixty, to diffuse happiness and kindliness and the blessings of Christian charity around you as you always have done. But I think you would scarcely wish to be kept out of heaven that long. So without looking farther into the future than God intends us to see, I only pray Him that your beloved and useful life may be spared to your family and the Church just as long as His infinite love and mercy can grant it, and that then an abundant entrance may be given you to the fulness of joy amid the pleasures at His right hand." ". . . I am truly sorry to hear of Edwin Lee's death. He was a true man, and if health had permitted would have been an ornament, as well as a benefit, to his race. He was certainly a great credit to the name." "Saturday I began operations, but saw only a few persons. General Anderson subscribed for us three hundred dollars. Today I am at it again, and have secured, I hope, two hundred dollars more. Saturday I saw Dr. Minnegerode. He engaged me to preach for him Sunday night, preferring the morning himself, as Mr. Davis was expected, as he wished Mr. Davis to hear him as his old pastor. But when we met yesterday at church he thought the President had not come, and asked me to preach then. I accordingly did so, and behold Mr. Davis was one of the large congregation. I preached without manuscript from part of 1 Cor. xiii. 12, 'Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face',—felt very free in speaking, and the congregation seemed attentive and impressed. I went to Minnegerode's to tea, and Mr. Davis was there. He looks well, but sad." "I have been so constantly going and am so tired out that I feel like doing very little to-day except resting for the soldiers' meeting to-night. Have done next to nothing about my special mission since Monday, because the Fair matters and those pertaining to this memorial soldiers' gathering, which could not be put off, have really occupied me day and night. Last night and the night before I was up till two o'clock concocting the best programme towards harmonizing elements that threaten to be conflicting in regard to monumental plans, and have earnestly tried, in the most disinterested spirit, to contribute all that my mind and conscience could suggest to the common fund of reasonable plan for so commemorating General Lee as to do good here and at Lexington, while holding forth to honor his character in connection with the great cause which he represented. We shall have a very large and significant assembly, and you will be gratified to know that Mr. Davis is to preside. He is enthusiastically received here. . . . The papers will have told you of occurrences at the fair-grounds on Tuesday. I went out, and being seen in the crowd by General Early, who, with President Davis and others, was on the platform, was so beckoned up that I could not with propriety decline. Mr. Davis was enthusiastically cheered and called on to speak, which he did most gracefully for two or three minutes. Early was then shouted for, and said a few words. Then the crowd called on me, and I spoke but a moment; and finally Colonel Withers was summoned, and did as the rest had done. The whole scene gratifying and inspiring. ". . . No letter here for me. It is a trying disappointment. My whole heart is with you and my own people, and this wandering about as a beggar, even for so important an object, is a grief my good friends can hardly appreciate."* * Not only were these wanderings and personal solicitations trying, but the mail brought many letters full of unkind feeling and even of insult. One of these is given as a specimen. "(Stamp for return postage.) "Cemetery Hill, Gettysburg, May 7, 1874. "REV. MAJOR PENDLETON. "DEAR SIR,—Enclosed you will find a small contribution for the church you are erecting to commemorate the virtues of that truly good and loyal man, General Robert E. Lee. "May we ask you to aid us in a somewhat similar enterprise that we have in hand? We are desirous that the South should co-operate with the North in the erection of a suitable monument to commemorate the virtues of that great and good man, John Brown, of Ossawatomie, of blessed memory. The inscription will record the fact that the monument is erected by the combined efforts of those in the North and South who sympathized with him in his noble efforts in the cause of human freedom. "On one side will be inscribed two lines from that good old hymn,— "'John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, But his soul goes marching on.' "Please remit amount to B. F. Butler, Treasurer, Arlington Heights. "Yours sincerely, "Stevens Thaddeus." "DEAR SIR,—Enclosed you will find a small contribution for the church you are erecting to commemorate the virtues of that truly good and loyal man, General Robert E. Lee. "This morning all the Episcopal churches united in Thanksgiving services* * The national Thanksgiving, that in Richmond being the Prayer-Book day. at St. Paul's. I preached, after an hour or two of meditation, and was grateful for the freedom of thought and utterance I had and the solemnized appearance of the congregation. Dr. Norton said in the vestry-room after it was over, 'I don't often say anything about sermons, but that was the best Thanksgiving sermon I ever heard.' It was God's blessing in answer to prayer and a sincere purpose to honor Him and do good." "To-morrow I expect to start for New Orleans. . . . By request I last night made an address in Carmichael's remote little church on General Lee's life and work since the war, with which the people are much delighted. A long report of it appeared in this morning's paper. By the bishop's request I made again tonight, in another little church, an address on the same general topic. He is to have collections taken up for us. . . . I have been at this hotel all the while with Mr. and Mrs. Davis. He is working very hard on his insurance company work. "My dear General,—According to promise, I send the memorial address delivered by Hon. Daniel Clopton, of this place. I have ventured to send an address delivered by myself at Winchester, Virginia, about one month before General Lee's death. I, of course, claim no merit or eloquence for the address, and send it simply as one among a thousand things which show how completely General Lee's example permeated through almost every sentiment and relation of Southern life. There was no gathering and entertainment nor custom in which the young men of the South participated whose tendency to evil could not be banished at once by a simple allusion to General Lee's example. As far as regards the young men of the South who were turned adrift at the end of the war, General Lee's life and example were, if it were possible, more valuable to the country than during the war. His determination to remain in the country restrained hundreds of young men in every community from that despairing search of honor and liberty in foreign lands which often leads to death, always to misery. I well remember a brave but dissolute young man here, who was wont to 'loaf' and whine about what he had suffered and lost by the war, and complained of want of appreciation of his services by the people and that he could get no easy work. The day it was announced that General Lee was going to Lexington to take charge of the college this young man was around a drinking-saloon, when his elder brother, who was very much like the younger, said, 'Bill, they say old Marse Bob had a heap of soft places offered him, and now he is going to teach a school. If he can go to work as a teacher from being a general, I reckon you and I need not be ashamed to work on the farm.' It acted like a charm, and to-day the two brothers are thrifty farmers." "My dear Friend,—I enclose the check of Messrs. Ketchum & Harbridge for one hundred dollars, drawn to your order, on the Fourth National Bank of New York. . . . We were wishing all day yesterday that you had stayed until to-day. And to-day we are wishing that you were staying till to-morrow. And we shall be always wishing and hoping that you will come again,— Mrs. Pendleton with you. ". . . At 2.40 P.M. we left Baltimore per fast train for New York. Dr. Minnegerode and Judge Parker, the first persons we saw, made the trip agreeable. Came with them straight to this hotel. Must probably stay here, costly as it is. A number of friends here. Lella gone out, while I write, with Bishop and Mrs. Whittle to the Church Congress for this evening. I concluded not to face the rain, having taken last night a little cold in the head. Saw the bishops, etc., in St. John's Chapel this morning. Love to each one of you and to the young men and the boys." "My dear Love,—It is now a quarter to ten A.M., and by our chamber fire, with breakfast done and things attended to and all well, I scratch you off another note. . . . The day is pleasant and you will have a comfortable ride, I hope. Your arrival at ' Oakland' will be a delight to all parties, and I enjoy it myself in idea. The late pleasant weather is no doubt freshening up things there as here. ". . . Dr. Madison asked me Saturday to administer to him yesterday after the Holy Communion, and desired Dr. Barton and Colonel Williamson to partake with Mrs. Madison and himself. Accordingly, at five P.M., we had for him that sacred service. He was sitting up, but coughed most distressingly. He is in a calm frame of mind, with Christian trust decided and faculties active and clear. The free play of his thoughts, the sweetness of his disposition, and the freshness of his remarks, now and then partaking of humor, and all pervaded by loving reliance on the gracious Saviour, are most remarkable; indeed, not less than beautiful and wonderful. . . . ". . . I am entirely well, and have been ever since you left. My course of life day and night is precisely as you witness it, except for missing you all the while. The girls take your place in handing me the well-meant though disagreeable draughts, and I am as comfortable as I can be without you. . . . If you meet with any of the residents around give them my love. It is not very likely that meeting between them and myself will occur again till we are removed to a 'better home.'" ". . . Delighted shall we be to have you at home again. But don't hurry, now you are one of the circle not likely to be all together again soon, if ever, this side of Paradise. "Lell wrote yesterday, and therefore as I was busy on my sermon I did not, and besides other duties I had to acknowledge Mr. Davis's letter, and let him know I will do the best I can in furnishing, as he requests, the names of artillery officers he wishes to mention in his book. . . . They are shingling the house, and making both a noise and a litter. Lella had the parlor put in winter dress yesterday, and will go on fixing as she can. They are busy with new carpets and old. The new one bright and pretty. . . . "My dear Friend,—I am deeply grieved to hear of your recent illness, and write at once earnestly to request you not to tax your strength by efforts to comply with my late request for information on military affairs. We are too old to disregard monitions, and I love you too dearly to be willingly the cause of over-exertion on your part. "My dear Friend,—It is true that I have not often written to you. It is equally true that you have never been long absent from my memory, and never removed from the high esteem and tender affection with which I have for many years regarded you. "Rev. and dear Friend,—I received your note and subsequently the fulfilment of the promise it contained of your letter of the 24th instant. Did I not know that the labor you performed in preparing the sketch was for a cause as near to your heart as my own, I would apologize to you for the tax my application imposed. "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—I have just read with deep emotion the interesting account in The State of this afternoon of your 'golden wedding.' Had I known in time that such an anniversary would be celebrated on the 15th I would have sent my hearty congratulations earlier. But now will you not permit me to unite with your friends in Virginia and all over the country, with Mrs. Preston, in saying,— "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—Please accept for Mrs. Pendleton and yourself my sincere congratulations on your being permitted to celebrate your golden wedding. "Dear General Pendleton,—I have this moment received the invitation of yourself and Mrs. Pendleton to your golden wedding on Friday next. "My dear Dr. Pendleton,—Many thanks for your touching remembrance. All happiness to you and to Mrs. Pendleton for many more years to come. "My dear Uncle and Aunt,—I had hoped to be with you on the 15th, and give in person my congratulations and good wishes for the past and the future. It is impossible, however, for me to get away at this time, so I am forced to content myself with a note. Although I may not be able to express myself so satisfactorily in this manner as I could were I present, I am sure that you have not now to learn that every good wish I can find in my heart is yours. I find upon glancing back over my own life that my single valuable possession—my education—is due to your kindness, and the gratitude which I feel is not diminished by the fact that two generations of my house are indebted to you in the same way. Besides this, the kindness and love for which I am indebted to you place me under an obligation which I can never repay. So far, however, as good wishes go towards paying it I give you all I have, for I hope that the remaining years, during which you may be spared to each other and all of us, may bring you as much happiness and enable you to do as much good as all the half-century which you have just finished. I cannot say more, but I send you my best love for now and always, and am your affectionate nephew, "Dear General Pendleton,—I regret exceedingly that owing to a recent attack of illness, from which I have not yet recovered, it would be imprudent for me to be out in such threatening weather, and I am therefore deprived of the pleasure of paying my respects and tendering my congratulations to you on the return of your seventy-second birthday. One who has filled so large a sphere of usefulness as you have is well entitled to those congratulations. Is not the man to be congratulated who at the age of seventy-two years finds himself in relatively good health, surrounded by appreciating friends, from whom he receives honor, love, obedience, 'and all that should accompany old age,' and can look back upon half a century of useful labor, spent in the service of his Maker and of his fellow-men? . . . "Dear Sister Mildred,—If any one had told me, when I got your letter in reply to mine, some six months or so ago, that I should have let all this time pass without writing to you again, I could not have believed a word of it, and should certainly have set him down as no prophet, and might even have regarded his suggestion as a sort of charge to call for denial. Yet so it has occurred; and while much work to do, and being at times not altogether well, constitute a sort of excuse for such delay in performing a duty which is really pleasant when actually set about, I have to confess that the tardiness is a fault for which you have a right to blame me, and for which I must try to make amends by guarding against it in the brief future before us. ". . . To learn of yourself and all of you, as you fully mentioned in your last, was a satisfaction. That you were still able to get to church, generally on Sunday and sometimes in the week, called for my thanks to the Sustainer of your strength. Approaching fourscore as you are, to be thus supported beyond the threescore and ten term should awaken especial thankfulness. "My dear Sister,—You will be gratified to see my handwriting after so long a time. For between two to three months I have been kept from almost every kind of exertion of mind or body by medical direction in consequence of a prostrating illness, which in the earlier portion of that time was for days expected every hour to end my earthly life. At length, however, I am entering upon accustomed duties, and gladly, among them, at once send you this Christmas greeting, having just directed to you a Christmas card. "My dear Cousin,—It is in due course to begin by wishing you and all your household not merely 'the compliments of the season in the phrase, "A Happy New Year,"' but within this outside wrapper are enclosed our heartiest and most sincere desire that the best of the Father's blessings, and the richest of the Saviour's love, and the most gracious gifts of the Spirit may abound to you in the year on which we are permitted to enter. To you two especially, my dear and venerable cousins, as compared with whom, though past my threescore, I still feel but a child, I tender my warm congratulations, with most earnest wishes that at your eventide you may have light glowing."
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