University of Virginia Library

"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.

"When they came, great was our consternation. Mary and I
sat on the portico as they poured into town. After crowds had
poured up the plank road after the cadets and filled the fields at
Mulberry Hill, they began to rush into town. Colonel Reid's
yard filled with them, and one clambered over the fence with a
revolver in his hand. He was one of the most ruffianly I saw.
Jack came to call me, saying, 'He wants milk.' My heart beat
so I almost heard it. I prayed for courage and prudence, and
when I saw him I became calm and felt no more fear of the

wretches. I gave him buttermilk, He said he had orders to
search, and I said, 'When your officers come they may search,
but you shall not!' He quietly withdrew. In a few moments I
was called to see five at the kitchen door. I asked what they
wanted. 'Bread.' I said, 'Go out of this room' (the big dining-room)
'and I will give you all I have.' They asked for meat.
B. Gwynn had given me a shoulder of bacon from the commissary's
and I had had it boiled. I desired Charles to bring it out
and cut it for them. 'How do you feel about this war?' said one.
'I should think by this time you would know how every Dixie
woman felt on that subject,' I replied.

"After I had got rid of them I resolved to go to Hunter to
demand protection from the wretches. I could not learn where
General Hunter was, but went to the provost-marshal, an Irish
brute, a Captain Matt. Berry. Mr. Johnson introduced me as
'Mrs. General Pendleton.' He asked, 'The wife of the one who
surrendered at Vicksburg?' 'No,' I said; 'he is a general with
General Lee.' He set Mrs. Letcher's house on fire with his own
hands, putting the lighted matches into the drawers with her
clothes. I came up the street with the promise of a guard, and
found a mounted one in the yard. Captain Moore had brought
one up with him who seemed civil and kind. Mary told me how
the man here, Wilson, had sworn at her for saying, when he undertook
to tell of the force they had, 'You have not mentioned
all the generals in the valley: Breckenridge and Pickett are there.'
I went to the gate and said, 'Hear how that man swears, and,
Northern man as you are, you must know that is not proper.'
Smith, Captain Moore's guard, said, 'I will try to come to you
myself,' and about ten P.M. he came, saying, 'I have the honor to
be your guard to-night and while I stay in the city.' While I
was away a man broke open a barrel of flour in the dining-room.
Wilson sent him out and kept them all off, or sent them out while
he stayed. We sat in the portico all the time, and as they would
walk up the lane or come in the back way I would go to meet
them and stand quietly before them.

"We all slept in my room, and I had pleasant rest. Sunday
morning both my guard and Captain Moore's were here. I gave
mine breakfast on the porch, and said, 'At eleven o'clock I am
going to read the Episcopal service, as I do every Sunday while

we have no church open.' Wilson went away, but Smith stayed
on the porch, and I read my prayers for the President of the
Southern Confederacy. Before this I had been told they would
burn this house, and went again to find Hunter, But Frank
heard on the street they would not burn either Colonel Preston's
or mine, so I returned. At that time the Institute, Colonel Williamson's,
and Colonel Gilham's houses were blazing on the hill,
and Mrs. Letcher's below. After I came up the street, Mary and
I were in the garden, looking at the burning buildings, and spoke
to Dr. McClung, who was passing. Three Yankee officers rode
up and asked if this was Mrs. Pendleton's. Dr. McClung said,
'Yes;' and I stepped forward and said, 'I am Mrs. Pendleton.'
They said they came to see if I could sell them strawberries. I
said, 'I had in other days had strawberries, but, by the ordering
of a merciful Providence, this year they had not borne.' They
asked some other questions and rode off.

"That afternoon a lieutenant and six men came to search.
I stepped forward. He came to search for 'arms and munitions
of war and provisions.' I said, 'I will show you all I have.'
'Men, stay,' he said. 'I should think that one man was enough
to go with an unarmed woman,' I said. And then we went into
every hole and corner. I had part of a barrel of flour and the
one the wretch broke open Sunday morning,—the guard had
made him give back the flour,—a water-bucketful; but, of course,
I shall not use it,—also ten pieces of bacon, two bushels of meal,
and some salt. We went into the empty cellar, into the garret,
into all the rooms. He looked,—would not see into the wardrobes,
—and on the whole behaved well. Mary showed your old
uniform coat, which saw all the fighting from Yorktown to Second
Fredericksburg, asking if it was contraband. He looked at it,
said you had been in the 'regular' army, and went away, doing
the polite by saying, 'You live among flowers.' I felt more relieved
than I can tell, for Philip Page's trunk was in the locked
room, and under the porch were two guns and one buried in the
cellar, and in the loft over the wing were two cadets' great-coats
and a haversack (captured at New Market) stuffed with cadets'
clothes, with five pairs of shoes tied to it, and a pair of boots.
These things were brought here by the boys the night before they
left, and we were asked to keep them. My cows were not brought

up Saturday night, and Sunday night I went to the guard at Captain
Moore's, saying I wanted my cows. He offered to go for
them. I made Charles go with him, and he separated them from
the 'government cattle' in my lot. They have been in the yard
ever since, eating up all the roses and treading on the verbenas.

"Monday about mid-day Wilson came over to say, 'I want the
key to your cellar to search it: there are guns under your portico,
and trunks of cadets' clothing.' I had the key brought, and
they (for my guard, Smith, who was kind and went for the cows,
and Mr. Pole's guard were along) called for the pickaxe and went
to work: dug up one gun and found the others. They were told
of them, by whom I do not know, but I have my suspicions.
They asked Frank 'what he wanted with the pick on Friday
morning?' Now, who told them? Jack did not. Wilson is a
brute when angry, and swears frightfully, and so I could not keep
them from going into my places. Then into the garret they went,
and there stood the trunk, which they took down to the provost-marshal.
As they were bringing it down-stairs Mary said, 'You
will return the private effects of the poor boys, I hope?' Wilson
said, 'We only want the uniforms.' 'Do you suppose,' said I,
'that those poor children had any uniforms but what they had
on?' 'Poor children!' said he. 'They gave us hell at New Market.'
This he had told us twice before, and 'they killed 'nough
of our boys,' he said, repeatedly. Mary went to see the provost-marshal
about their getting the trunk, and told of the guns and
my not knowing of them till they were all put away, and asked
for a written order if they were to be taken. He gave it, and
ordered her to raise her veil and let him see her face. She lifted
the veil and turned from him. While they went down with the
trunk Mary and Lella got down the haversack, put on their
hoops, and hung over them three cadet jackets and a pair of
pants; Rose also hung a pair of pants over her hoop. The
great-coats we threw out on the roof of the kitchen, so that they
could only be seen from one window in an empty room, and then
you had to look well out to see them. The boots and shoes were
hid in the hearth, in the stove-pipe, and behind the pamphlets in
the study. While this was going on Wilson came into the yard
and asked his usual question, 'Any soldiers in this yard?' To
keep him from going to the back of the house, where I feared he

might hear moving or see through the closed blinds, I began to
talk to him, and for three-quarters of an hour kept him quiet.
When the girls came down I slackened my fire and he left.
Smith then had to search again, and into every hole and corner
except the loft he went,—under the beds and into the trunks. He
did not like it, for he had some feeling; but we made him do it,
and then give us a certificate that all had been searched. As
he was searching I said, 'Is this a pleasant business?' 'No,
madam.'

"Night came again and a report that they would go in the
morning, and to our inexpressible relief, as soon as we were
awake, we found them in motion, and by eight A.M. they were
all gone.

"They were like the Israelites in Moab,—on all the hill-sides
and on all the roads. I walked from front to back door all the
time, not in the least afraid of them, and thanking God for being
kept from fear of evil. I saw only the officers I have mentioned.

"The men asked your name repeatedly. Once I said, 'I shall
not tell you.' 'Are you ashamed of him?' he said. 'No. I am
proud of him. You can ask your generals; they know who he
is.' I suppose I heard Wilson say twenty times that if he had
power he would burn this house, and yet he would come and sit
on the steps and talk and we have to reply. He told at Captain
Moore's that 'we were the d—dest rebels he had met.' These
guards all belong to 'Camp H, Twentieth Pennsylvania Cavalry,'
and were detailed as provost-guards. I hope all our friends will
look out for them and punish them. I do not wish Smith killed,
but I should be charmed to hear he was captured. I had an
untold horror of the house being searched again for the Yankee
overcoats. When they were bringing down the trunk, Wilson
shook his fist at me and said, 'Mind, you treat these niggers
good,—they is as free as you is.' I said, 'Do you suppose my
negroes had to wait for you to tell them they were as free as I am?'

"I do not believe so wicked an army ever existed, at least in
modern times. At Colonel Reid's they were like wild beasts,—
took all the meat, flour, lard, onions. (They took all my onions.)
From Colonel Preston's took everything,—stripped the farm,—
but his negroes took the stock around and brought a good deal
of it back. They robbed Mrs. Letcher of eight barrels of flour

and all her meat. The two barrels of flour left her were burned,
and as they took everything from the old lady, Mrs. Letcher told
me she breakfasted Monday on dry bread and water. Some one
had sent her flour. Colonel Williamson lost almost everything,
and Colonel Gilham a great deal. They would not let Mrs.
Letcher take anything from her house except a few clothes.
Lizzie took up the crib mattress and the provost-marshal put it
back in the fire.

"Matt White is said to have killed one of their men, and they
took him out to Mrs. Cameron's and shot him in the back with
eight bullets. He is to be buried this evening. God be praised
for delivering us from our cruel foes so far! May He never let
one of them return except as prisoners!"

". . . 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.'

"Much as I have written to you, I will be obliged to wait to
see you to tell of all that the enemy did.

"Old Mr. Lee came in yesterday from Buchanan, where he
had gone on the Yankees coming here, in the following original
style: an old Yankee horse left behind, an old side-saddle, which
he found on the mountain near Buchanan, a rope bridle, his
carpet-bag hung over the pommel of the saddle, and he sitting
sideways. They threw shell into Buchanan, attempting to get
at McCausland, and burned Mr. Anderson's fine new house. In
Bedford County they robbed Mrs. Robert Allen of everything.
A little drummer-boy, touched by compassion, asked Mrs. Christian
to give him a bag and he would get her some flour. He
filled a pillow-case for her, which she hid under the bed. Such
wretches never lived before, I believe."

"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,[1] 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.[6] . . . 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.

"When the second charge was made I was again on the lines.
As before, the Yankees met it with a furious cannonade and with
heavy skirmishing all along the lines, but to no purpose. Our
troops drove them like sheep, at a run,—killing a great many and
capturing more than in the first charge,—regaining all of our
works. Never was there a poorer failure than the Yankees, in this
attempt, or a nobler achievement than ours. Grant had sent a
large force north of James River to compel us to send a force to
head them off. He then suddenly drew back his men on a shorter
line for this great attack. And yet it was wholly frustrated, with
a loss to them of some twelve hundred prisoners, including a
brigadier and several colonels, besides perhaps two hundred
negroes, seven or eight hundred killed outright, and how many
wounded we do not know. Three thousand is a moderate estimate

of their loss; ours barely a thousand all told, notwithstanding
the immense advantage given them by the mine surprise. I
spent a most laborious day, hot as it was. Our officers and
soldiers acted most nobly. General Lee, as usual, directed with
consummate judgment. I doubt whether another army in the
world could achieve such a victory with such a shock to begin
with.

"I could to-day return thanks with all my heart. I was partially
engaged to preach to-day to a portion of the artillery; but,
as I wrote you, some of it had to be moved, so that I was in
doubt about holding service for the remnant at the designated
point. This morning, however, a note was handed me from Mr.
Shippin, informing me that Mr. Platt would not hold service, as
for some Sundays past, in his yard, near General Lee's headquarters,
and begging me to do so. I immediately replied that,
if the wish were participated in by General Lee and his staff, I
would, but that without an intimation to this effect I should not
feel authorized to accede to his request. Very soon a note returned
from Colonel Taylor expressing the wishes of all parties
for the service, and I went. The service was profitable to me,
and I hope to others. I preached from the first lesson,—Numbers
xxiii., part of 10th verse,—' Let me die the death of the righteous,'
etc. I experienced freedom of thought and expression,
and the audience was continuously attentive. The day has been
extremely warm, some say the hottest of the year thus far. It
is now, however, cloudy and cool, a slight sprinkle of rain having
already fallen."

". . . 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."