At this camp, it will be remembered, the commanding officers issued a deal of their surplus whisky to the division, which proved the harbinger of rows, riots, fights of a stirring and noisy kind, too numerous to mention. After four days rest, the division resumed its march for Washington City early on the morning of the 11th of May, and passing through Manchester, crossed the James river and entered the city of Richmond from the south-west. Now, for the first time, it beheld the once great Rebel Capital—the anaconda and boa-constrictor of rebel vengeance. When the command reached the north side of the James, the Libby prison could be seen on the right, where so many of our captured soldiers have languished and died under the cruel care of its keeper. Then, a short distance above the Libby, and on the same side of the street, stood Castle Thunder, also a place of infamous reputation. Passing on, it was met by hundreds of peddlers dealing out their pies, cakes, cheese, and such, by the wholesale. The city did not show the ravages of war as much as was expected; true, a part of it had been burnt on its evacuation, but aside from this there was nothing to show that it had been so long the theatre of war; neither racked nor ruined, but compact, neat and clean.

All were surprised not to see huge entrenchments, high as the Chinese walls; but alas! there was nothing but an ordinary line of works around it, no stronger than the Eighty-sixth had often made on the Atlanta campaign in one night! "As strong as Richmond" had become a by-word. In front of Kenesaw, the Chattahoochie and Atlanta, may be found stronger works by far, thrown up in just one mortal night, than are to be seen on the south-west and north of Richmond.

Jeff. Davis, in his Sodom and Gomorrah of the Confederacy, was not as secure as many were wont to think. Sherman would have snaked him out sooner than he did if he had had his "flanking machine" in operating distance. But time progressed, the world moved, and Richmond fell.

Passing through Richmond, the command marching northward, camped four miles from Hanover C.H., making sixteen miles. Led out of camp at twelve o'clock M. on the 12th, and passing through Hanover C.H., crossed the Pamunky at Little Page's Bridge, and camped four miles above it, making eight miles. The course of march on the 13th was north-west, crossing the railway at Chesterfield, and camped one mile beyond Childsburg, making eighteen miles.

The march of the 14th was still north-west. The command camped on Plentiful creek by an old mill, having made an easy march of eighteen miles. Resuming the march on the 15th in a north-western direction, the command crossed the Rapidan river at Raccoon Ford, and camped for the night on the north bank, having marched seventeen miles. Led out of camp on the Rapidan at seven A.M. on the 16th, the Eighty-sixth Illinois being train guard and crossing the North Fork of the Rappahanock at Kellie's Ford, marched and camped near Catlet's Station, making twenty-two miles.

Marched from Catlett's Station at half past four A.M. on the 17th, and following the railway, passed through Manassas Junction and camped on the Bull Run battlefield, having marched twenty-five miles under a hot sun.

Resumed the march at five A.M. on the 18th, and passing through Fairfax C.H., camped within nine miles of Washington, having marched fifteen miles. Again, at nine A.M. on the 19th, the march was resumed, the command camping at a point equidistant from Washington and Alexandria, and four miles from each, having marched five miles. From its camp at this place the Eighty-sixth Illinois saw the distant dome of the Capitol for the first time.

Soon again the regiment had comfortable quarters, and enjoyed them hugely after so long and arduous a march. It marched one hundred and forty-four miles on its journey from Richmond to Washington, consuming eight days in doing it. On this march all were surprised not to find the country cut up with all kinds of works incident to war, for such things were not to be seen to any formidable extent. At Manassas Junction there were a few old forts, then in ruins, that may have been at some time quite formidable, but never wonderful. At Bull Run was to be seen the strongest entrenchments on the line of march, which had been built and held by the rebel army.

The following are the casualties of the regiment from the time it left Savannah until its muster out:

Recruits 6 Resigned 2 Transferred 5 Discharged 12 Ordinary deaths 4 Killed in action 3 Died of wounds 5 Missing in action 8 Wounded in action 20 Wounded, accidental 1 —- Aggregate 66

Immediately upon the arrival of Sherman's army at Washington City, General Grant issued orders for the review of the Grand Army of the Potomac to take place on the 23rd, and that known as Sherman's army to take place on the 24th. Thousands of people flocked from all parts of the country to witness the grand pageant. The most ample preparations had been made for the occasion. The President was seated on an elevated stand, surrounded by his Cabinet officers, foreign ministers and distinguished strangers. Pennsylvania Avenue was lined on both sides from end to end with admiring people; every window presented its tableau of fair spectators; and the occasion was such as had never before been witnessed on the American continent. The daily papers all over the land soon flourished lively descriptions of the great and grand review; and according to them and the judgment of most of the spectators, the Army of the West bore off the palm; they described it as more graceful, more stalwart and more intelligent than the Grand Army of the Potomac.

On the occasion of this grand review of Sherman's army, a certain New York paper, the Independent, paid our division a very high compliment. It said:

"The finest looking set of men in either army—they were also said to be the best drilled—was the 2nd division of the 14th Corps, composed of Western troops, and commanded by General James D. Morgan, of Quincy, Illinois, one of the bravest of the brave, the idol of his soldiers, and called by them 'Our Jimmy Morgan.'"

But as for the soldiers themselves, grand pageantry in the line of reviews had "played out." What was charming to the assembled multitude was no joyous affair to them. Their good time came, however, when the attention of officials was turned to mustering out.

On the morning of the review of Sherman's army, our division led out of its camp at an early hour, and by a slow and tiresome march it arrived at Washington and passed before the admiring crowd between one and three o'clock P.M., marching back to camp in the evening, where it arrived as much fatigued as if it had been pursuing rebels.

At twelve o'clock M. on the day after the grand review, General Morgan moved his division across the long bridge over the Potomac into Washington City, and thence three miles north, where he camped it near the President's summer houses.

While encamped here the boys were allowed many privileges in and around the Capitol; all the guards being taken off, they were allowed to run wild, though they did not run riot.

Here also the Eighty-sixth Illinois, on the evening of the 6th of June, 1865, was mustered out of the United States service, having been engaged in the service of its country as an organized body for three years wanting two months and twenty-two days.

Immediately after this the boys of the regiment saluted each other as American citizens and not as soldiers, and though the metamorphosis was sudden, it seemed to have the force of a protracted transformation.

The following are the casualties of the regiment from the time it left Lee and Gordon's Mills until its muster out:

Recruits 6 Transferred by promotion 1 Transferred to other regiments 31 Discharged 21 Ordinary deaths 11 Killed in action 48 Missing 33 Deserted 6 Wounded in action 133 Wounded, accidental 9 Died of wounds 15 Resigned 2 Surrendered from desertion 1 —— Aggregate 323

The entire casualties of the Eighty-sixth Regiment, during its term of service, in killed and died, discharged, transferred and deserted, was four hundred and sixty-seven men, the company loss being as follows:

- - - Killed and Discharged. Transferred. Deserted. Died. - - - Company A 29 16 9 1 Company B 5 21 12 3 Company C 11 25 7 8 Company D 16 19 9 3 Company E 15 25 6 2 Company F 15 26 4 3 Company G 16 10 6 1 Company H 12 22 8 0 Company I 22 18 7 8 Company K 20 20 5 2 - - - Total 161 202 73 31 - - -

The regiment lost fifty-one men killed and one hundred and fifty-four wounded in battle, having participated in twenty-two engagements, not mentioning many others in which it rendered assistance by supporting, guarding flanks, or protecting rear. It marched thirty-five hundred and thirty miles, and was transported by railroad about two thousand miles, making a total distance of five thousand five hundred and thirty miles, besides a great deal of traveling about camps, on picket, etc., that is not taken into account.

There were three hundred and seventy-nine men mustered out with the regiment; besides this number there were many absent at hospitals and on detail who could not be present at the muster-out. Two days after it was mustered out of the service, the regiment boarded the cars, at the depot in Washington City, on its way to Chicago, there to receive its pay, disband and go home.

From Washington it passed through Baltimore via Harrisburg and Pittsburgh to Chicago, where it arrived at twelve o'clock M., on the 11th of June. Everywhere on its route it received expressions of the most cordial welcome. Every one seemed rejoiced that the soldier boys were coming home from the bloody wars, in every way showing their grateful feeling of warmest sympathy for the services they had rendered to Union and liberty.

At Pittsburgh it received the kindest welcome of them all. More genuine sympathy was manifested there than the boys had yet experienced. In behalf of this people was engendered a feeling of the most profound regard. The regiment was escorted from the cars to the city hall by a band discoursing delightful music, where was prepared a dainty meal for all. After dinner, it was escorted back to the train, by the same band, amid the waving of handkerchiefs from the crowds that thronged the streets and balconies, and the "God bless you" from a thousand lips. So long as our minds can retrace the past, and so long as our hearts are capable of a generous emotion, will we continue to hold in sacred remembrance, the noble and generous-hearted people of Pittsburgh.

Every one anticipated a hearty welcome at Chicago, inasmuch as it had been extended elsewhere on the route; but we were cruelly and sadly disappointed. No one met the regiment at the depot even to tell it where to go. Every window presented its tableaux of fair spectators, but no signal was made in token of welcome, no hearty "God bless you" emanated in audible words from a single heart, but they gazed as if upon a menagerie of southern wild beasts. The men were chagrined, and would exclaim, "This is Richmond, not Chicago!"

The regiment finally found its way to Camp Fry and pitched its tents. Here it remained until the 21st, waiting impatiently for its pay and discharge.

The good folks of Chicago, however, determined not to allow the boys to leave their city until they had assuaged their anger. Accordingly, the Eighty-sixth and 125th Illinois received an invitation to appear at the Sanitary Fair rooms, and partake of the fatted calf, where they received not only a substantial dinner, but also several stirring speeches, among which was one made by General Sherman.

The General spoke as follows:

FELLOW SOLDIERS: I regret that it has fallen to my task to speak to you, because, I would rather that others should do what is most common to them, and less so to me. But, my fellow soldiers, it gives me pleasure to assure you that what the President of this Fair has told you just now is true—that a hearty welcome awaits you wherever you go, not only in Chicago but everywhere. Many people think you want bread and meat, but your faces and my knowledge tell me that you prefer the waving of handkerchiefs and the applause of the people to all the bread and meat that fill the warehouses of Chicago. (Cheers.) Those soldiers who are now before me know where bread and meat can and will be found. (Laughter.) All we ask and all we have ever asked, is a silent and generous acknowledgment of our services when rendered in the cause of our country.

And, fellow soldiers, when you get home among those who will interest you more than anything I can say, just call to mind where you were twelve months ago. You remember the Kenesaw Peak and Little Kenesaw. It is not a year since you stormed them, and lost my old partner and friend, Dan. McCook. That was on the 27th June, 1864. In June, 1865, you stand in the midst of Chicago, surrounded by bright colors, and ladies, and children. Then you were lying in the mud, the rocks and the dirt, and you knew that there was an enemy we had to fight with and conquer, and we did not exactly know how to do it. (Laughter.) But we were patient; we reconnoitered—we watched their flanks—we studied the ground—and in three days we had Johnston and his whole army pinned; he retired, and we did not give him a chance of stopping until he had put the Chattahoochie between us and him. That is a lesson to you. Temporary defeat is nothing when a man is determined to succeed. You are not conquered—you never can be conquered when the mind is clear and determined in its purpose; you must succeed—no temporary defeat can cause failure.

You will remember that on the 4th of July we stood close to each other, and we told them then that they would have to go farther than Atlanta, for we should continue to go on. (Cheers.) You will remember how their pickets told us they had reinforcements. Yes, but what? They had one of our Corps—Schofield's. (Laughter.) Before General Johnston knew, or dreamed of it, I had reinforced his side of the Chattahoochie by General Schofield's 23rd Corps.

From this, my fellow soldiers I want you to learn the lesson, no matter where you are, to-day or to-morrow, by keeping a purpose close in your mind, in the end you will succeed, whether it be in military, civil, social or family affairs. Let no difficulty appal you—let no check alarm you—let your purpose in life be clear and steadfast—keep in view the object and design of your life, and just as sure as you are now before me in health and strength, you will succeed.

You are now returned to your homes, and the task now allotted to you is that of the future. The past is disposed of—it may soon be forgotten; but the future is before you, and that future will be more glorious than the past. Look at your own State of Illinois—look at the city of Chicago. It is hardly as old as any of you, for twenty-five years ago a little military garrison was here—a two-company post; and now it is a city of palaces, of streets, railroads, etc. You, the men of a city almost the second in the United States of America, are to assist in directing the affairs of this country. You have the patience and industry, and more than that, you have organization, discipline and drill, and if I have been instrumental in teaching you this—in maintaining discipline, order and good government in the army which I have had the honor to command, I am contented; for on this system, and on the high tone of honor which pervades your minds, must be built the empire of America. (Loud cheers.)

I did not wish to address you, but I believe that there are no others here who desire to speak, and therefore I ask you to accept what is given in heartiness—a full, joyous, welcome home to Chicago. I know it is genuine, for I myself have experienced it. Feel you are at home—and that there are no more rebels, no more raking fire—no more shot; but that you have done with them all forever. Good morning.

On the afternoon of the 21st of June, having been in Chicago just ten days, every member of the Eighty-sixth received his pay and final discharge. Soon, the boys scattered to the four winds, bound for home and friends. Suddenly, the Eighty-sixth Illinois passed from existence!

* * * * *

Here ends the history of the good old Eighty-sixth Regiment of Volunteer Infantry, which had undergone so many days of hardships, perils and privations for the maintenance of home, union and liberty.

There is no surviving member of the regiment, but will always pride himself in having belonged to that organization; he will never forget the sad and repulsive scenes of the past, in connection with the merry days of yore; he will ever cherish in lasting remembrance the many noble and heroic comrades who have fallen by his side—men with whom he has passed the most trying hours of his existence—men who knowing the rights of their friends, their country and homes, dared raise the strong right arm in defense. Ay! he will ever invoke a just Heaven to reward them as their merit deserves, and in his hours of sad reflection, he will drop a tear to their memory.



REGIMENTAL ROSTER.

REGIMENTAL STAFF.

Colonel David D. Irons; August 27, 1862; died August 11, 1863, at Nashville, Tennessee.

Lieutenant-Colonel David W. Magee; August 27, 1862; resigned March 25, 1864, at Camp McAfee, Georgia.

Lieutenant-Colonel Allen F. Fahnestock; April 13, 1864; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

Major J. S. Bean, August 27, 1862; resigned December 26, 1862, at Nashville, Tennessee.

Major O. Fountain; December 26, 1862; resigned October 30, 1863, at North Chickamauga.

Major J. F. Thomas; April 13, 1864; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

Surgeon M. M. Hooton; August 27, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

First Assistant Surgeon J. Gregory; August 27, 1862; transferred to U.S.C., December 15, 1863.

Second Assistant Surgeon I. J. Guth; August 21, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

Adjutant J. E. Prescott; August 27, 1862; resigned December 26, 1862, at Nashville, Tennessee.

Adjutant C. D. Irons; ——; resigned April 25, 1863, at North Chickamauga.

Adjutant L. J. Dandy; ——; discharged April 25, 1865, per order War Department.

Regimental Quartermaster C. H. Dean; August 27, 1862; promoted A.Q.M., February 18, 1864.

Regimental Quartermaster A. Bracken; February 18, 1864; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

Chaplain G. W. Brown; August 27, 1862; resigned October 13, 1863, at Nashville, Tennessee.

Chaplain J. S. Millsaps; October 13, 1863; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

NON-COMMISSIONED STAFF.

Sergeant-Major L. J. Dandy; promoted.

Sergeant-Major D. E. Ward; mustered out with regiment.

Quartermaster Sergeant J. Adams; died February 19, 1863.

Quartermaster Sergeant C. Magee; mustered out with regiment.

Commissary Sergeant T. A. McNorris; discharged.

Commissary Sergeant W. J. Longfellow; mustered out with regiment.

Hospital Steward Jo. Robinson; mustered out with regiment.

Principal Musician A. Webber; mustered out with regiment.

Principal Musician S. B. Silzell; mustered out with regiment.

COMPANY OFFICERS.

COMPANY A.

Captain W. S. Magarity; August 27, 1862; resigned October 10, 1863.

First Lieutenant Jo. Major; August 27, 1862; promoted Captain October 10, 1863, and mustered out with regiment.

Second Lieutenant S. T. Rogers; Aug. 27, 1862; promoted First Lieutenant October 10, 1863, and resigned from wounds received in battle, June 27, 1864. J. J. Jones, promoted First Lieutenant.

COMPANY B.

Captain E. C. Beasley; August 27, 1862; resigned January 28, 1863. J. P. Worrell, promoted Captain.

First Lieutenant J. C. Kingsley; August 27, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

Second Lieutenant N. McVicker; August 27, 1862; resigned Jan. 17, 1863. P. W. Wycoff, promoted Second Lieutenant.

COMPANY C.

Captain J. F. Thomas; August 27, 1862; promoted Major, April 13, 1864, and mustered out with regiment. W. G. McDonald, promoted Captain.

First Lieutenant J. H. Batchelder; August 27, 1862; Brigade Commissary, and mustered out with regiment.

Second Lieutenant R. B. Beebe; August 27, 1862; resigned Feb. 1, 1863.

COMPANY D.

Captain Frank Hitchcock; August 27, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

First Lieutenant W. D. Faulkner; August 27, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

Second Lieutenant W. H. Hall; August 27, 1862; resigned Jan. 14, 1863. I. L. Gleares promoted Second Lieutenant.

COMPANY E.

Captain O. Fountain; August 27, 1862; promoted Major Dec. 26, 1862. J. F. Waldrof, Captain, resigned June 18, 1863. E. Van Antwerp, Captain, died July 15, 1864.

First Lieutenant M. Grave; August 27, 1862; resigned January 13, 1863.

Second Lieutenant S. W. Williams; August 27, 1862; resigned January 11, 1863. H. W. Wilson promoted First Lieutenant.

COMPANY F.

Captain J. L. Burkhalter; August 27, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

First Lieutenant N. D. Combs; August 27, 1862; resigned January 11, 1863.

Second Lieutenant John Hall; August 27, 1862; promoted First Lieutenant, and mustered out with regiment at Washington City. A. P. Loveland promoted Second Lieutenant.

COMPANY G.

Captain W. B. Bogardus; August 27, 1862; died of wounds received in battle March 19, 1865.

First Lieutenant S. L. Zinser; August 27, 1862; promoted Captain; mustered out with regiment.

Second Lieutenant M. Kingman; August 27, 1862; promoted First Lieutenant; mustered out with regiment.

COMPANY H.

Captain J. H. Hall; August 27, 1862; mustered out with regiment at Washington City.

First Lieutenant E. E. Peters; August 27, 1862; resigned July 12, 1863. W. F. Hodge promoted First Lieutenant.

Second Lieutenant D. W. Merwin; August 27, 1862.

COMPANY I.

Captain A. L. Fahnestock; August 27, 1862; promoted Major January 31, 1864.

First Lieutenant A. A. Lee; August 27, 1862; promoted Captain Jan. 31, 1864.

Second Lieutenant J. L. Fahnestock; August 27, 1862; resigned Jan. 23, 1863. R. W. Groninger promoted Second Lieutenant.

COMPANY K.

Captain J. F. French; August 27, 1862; killed March 16, 1865. L. A. Ross promoted Captain.

First Lieutenant J. B. Pete; August 27, 1862; discharged Dec. 24, 1864.

Second Lieutenant H. F. Irwin; August 27, 1862; dishonorably discharged Nov. 29, 1862. John Morrow promoted Second Lieutenant.



CAPTAIN BURKHALTER'S ADVENTURE.

On the morning of the 20th of August, 1864, while our army was besieging Atlanta, General James D. Morgan's division was ordered on a raid to cut the Montgomery and Atlanta Railroad. Our brigade, the 3rd, left its baggage in the rifle pits, leaving a sufficient guard with it. The skirmishers were also left on duty under the command of Capt. Burkhalter, the subject of our narrative.

Sometime after the division had gone, the Captain became lonesome and anxious to know what the division was doing, so he attempted to follow and see the fun. He followed it very well until within three or four miles of the railroad, when a heavy rain overtook him; he stopped under the shelter of a large tree until the storm had somewhat subsided, then mounting his horse pursued what he supposed to be the right road, but the pelting rain had obliterated every vestige of our course, and he in consequence was in a dilemma as to what was best. It did not seem well to turn back after having gone so far, so he determined to follow in the probable course of the column until he found more evidence one way or the other. On he went in a musing mood, doubting as he went.

Having now gone a long distance without any favorable signs, he had about concluded to return, when on a sudden a stalwart reb, armed to the teeth, stepped out from behind a tree and commanded the unwary Captain to surrender. A complete surprise. What could he do; he had left his sword and pistol in camp, not dreaming of this adventure.

He stopped instanter, obeying the summons of his captor, for there was no other alternative; he was powerless. The next demand made of him was his watch and pocket book.

The rebel, for a short distance, marched the Captain a few paces in front, following close in the rear with a cocked gun, and leading the horse by the reins; but this was not getting along fast enough, for the horse would not lead good. He now ordered the Captain on horseback, still walking close behind and directing the course of the prisoner by proper military commands.

They had thus traveled about two miles when a horseman was heard to approach on a keen trot from the direction of their front. This horseman was supposed to be a rebel cavalryman, but on coming closer he was discovered to be a Yankee. The rebel leveled his gun on him and commanded his surrender; but saying nothing, the Yankee threw the reins loose on the horse's neck and approached to the rebel's gun as if to give up, but seizing it thrust it to one side, when off it went, hurting no one.

The rebel was now at their mercy, if they could catch him, for he took leg-bail. Both the Yankees pursued and finally captured him. The Orderly—for the last character was the Captain's Orderly—tried to shoot the fugitive, but his pistol would not go off.

Having captured the rebel, the Captain loaded his gun and demanded back all that had been taken from him. The Captain soon after found the column, bringing his captive with him, rejoicing—the rebel fighting mad.



SOLDIERS' LETTERS.

Letters are the soldier's tonic. They will strengthen and restore when army grub and other restoratives, duly proportioned, wholly fail. The blues and all kinds of contagious diseases to which mortals are heir, caused by idleness and the lack of proper diversion of the mind, are soon uprooted by a good interesting letter from a fellow's most affectionate. Give soldiers full rations and regular mail, then there can nowhere be found a more rational set of men than they. But letters are sometimes like our crackers and pork, unfit for use. Such letters do no good—they are no good. There is a sheet full of writing, to be sure, but it is about something that neither interests nor concerns us. Those letters that tell us about the little things of home; the farm, the horses, the cattle, the dogs and cats, their quality and disposition; also the parties and frolics, who is going to see who, and what people say about it, are the very letters that do all this good I have been telling about.

The soldiers will always crowd around the ones who get such letters, make remarks and ludicrous suggestions which cause bursts of hearty laughter and strains of highest merriment, thus passing the tedious hours of camp life in a light and merry way.

No one cares for a letter which is wholly devoted to the praise and admiration of one's patriotism and to the sacredness of the Union cause.

Such letters bore to the very quick. It seems to them that the writer is taking that opportunity to speak a word of eulogy for himself. As for the true soldier, he never asks for words of flattery; he is not to be gulled with bland words and braggadocio. The letter for the soldier is the long, pithy one, full of little things, even down to gossip. Gossip is better than eulogy, especially when used in an egotistical manner.



BATTLE.

Much has been said and written about battle, the greater portion of which is an exaggeration of facts. Fireside writers and reporters have composed long manuscripts, beginning and ending in frantic agonies and seas of blood, exhausting the vocabulary of pathetic epithets. That battle is dreadful cannot be denied, but those who have passed through the fiery ordeal do not experience half the convulsions and agony of soul that is written. If a comrade falls, the column still moves on. No one, by the late rules of war, dare stop to bear off the wounded or sympathize with those in the throes of death. There are men detailed for that purpose, who follow up in the rear and give those in need due attention.

A soldier in a pitched battle does not pretend to know who is hurt until the battle is ended; he must needs push ahead and do his part until he is no longer able. Many of your comrades fall around you; they show unmistakable symptoms of severe wounds, but your attention is too much engrossed to ever think to inquire the nature of their wounds. You are hardly conscious of any suffering around you. Excitement has borne you off so that you never think to look and see who is on your right or left, or whose spirit is winging its flight from the body over which you are walking. The soldier does not seem to feel pangs of sorrow when arms clash the loudest; he does not see danger and suffering and ghastly sights until all is over and quiet restored. Those who are unacquainted with the mental condition of the soldier in time of battle, wonder and ask why it is that those whom he knows so intimately are wounded and many times killed by his side without knowing the nature of their wounds or the circumstances of their death. The reason for this is manifest from what has already been said.

There is oftentimes more horror in the idea and dread of battle than in the thing itself. The soldier becomes so accustomed to human butchery that it loses many, very many, of its horrors.

After battle, when the clash of arms has ceased, is when the soldier's sympathy is tried. The solicitations of the maimed and dying raise a feeling of commiseration in the most obdurate heart; and still this feeling is of but short duration and of a mild character.



FARMING IN THE SOUTH.

Farming in the Southern States is carried on in a very simple and seeming ignorant style. One could not refrain from laughing at their oddity in agricultural pursuits. They are a great many years behind the North in this respect, as well as in many others.

The whites and negroes are so sluggish, indolent and careless in their habits that their works are a fair prototype of themselves. There is a difference between a farm and a plantation, though they are carried on in nearly the same style; the main difference is that the one is gotten up on a larger scale than the other. What is usually called a farm is owned by a poor white man—while the plantation is owned by a wealthy planter, with his hundreds of negroes. The farm is known by its small area, by its improvements and its little old log house with its appendages; the plantation, by its vast area, its stately mansion and numerous negro shanties. The improvements are usually very poor, with but few conveniences. On every plantation you will see a cotton press and gin house, with the stable under the latter. The cotton press is the first thing you get your eyes on when you approach a plantation, and then the gin house next. And as for the farms or little plantations, you scarcely know anything about them until you have them suddenly spread before your view. There is hardly ever anything external to warn one of their presence.

It is, as it were, a swath mown in the deep pine forest—the labor of a poor ignorant being, who, like the parrot, can talk and palaver with simple unmeaningness, but ignorant of the world beyond a radius of ten miles. The people, for the most part, break up their ground with one horse or ox, as the case may be, their plows being suited to the purpose.

This small plow is made after the fashion of our large two-horse breaking plows, and is, as we are wont to say, right or left handed. Some farmers are too poor to afford a horse or mule; in this case they work an ox as if he were a horse, hitch him to the plow and drive him with ropes attached to his horns with as much precision as a horse or mule.

The oxen here may be of a more docile breed than found in our parts, and certainly are, for it would be dangerous with us to hitch one to a plow and start him on a row through a cornfield, for he would likely jump the fence before he reached the other end.

The rows of corn here are usually six feet apart, with a row of negro beans between. If one man can tend eight acres he thinks he is doing good business; the corn is hardly ever plowed, it being worked with the hoe for the most part.

The women work in the field as well as the men, they being used to it. They will not believe us when we tell them that our women do not work in the field. When an acre of ground yields twelve bushels of corn it is thought to be a fine crop. They gape with wonder when we tell them we break our ground with two horses, plow our corn with a plow on which we can ride; that one man can tend forty acres and raise forty bushels to the acre. When we tell them about our reapers, our vast fields of wheat, oats, etc., etc., they gape, and wonder what we do with it all. If we tell them about our large prairies, rich soil and productive land, they wonder why they had not heard of that before.

Their principal diet is corn bread, meat and negro beans. These nigger beans, by the way, are not so bad, just the thing for the soldier; many farmers raise them altogether, so to speak. It is a common thing to see cribs of these beans as you pass through the country; it takes them so short a time to cook, which adapts them to our use. Corn and beans are not their only productions, for they sometimes grow a little wheat, oats, tobacco and cotton. Many reap their grain with the sickle, not having known the existence of the cradle. There are no reapers to be seen, or if at all, but seldom.

As a people, they have no enterprise; they live only to eat, and even that is done in a poor, unhandy style.

There are a great many turpentine, rosin and tar factories in "the sunny land of Dixie." There are vast tracts of land here, covered with dense forests of pine, that can be put to no other use than the production of these things. In North Carolina these factories are most numerous. They are built on small streams of water, and for miles around the trees are hewn on two sides; the turpentine running out, gums on the tree where it is hewn. On our march we burned many of these factories; they made a grand, huge smoke, most sublime.

It is impossible for a person who has not seen the like to form a proper idea of the real grandeur and sublimity of these dense volumes of black, agitated smoke, brightened betimes with lofty flames of liquid fire that seem to lift themselves in the fury of their madness to the very skies.



REBEL LETTER.

This letter, written by a rebel soldier, was found on the battle-ground at Bentonville, N. C.

BIVOUAC NEAR "RACCOON FORD," VA., September 25th, 1863.

DEAR COON—I have just received your kind favor of the 8th inst., and am very much gratified with its contents. I could not expect a long letter from a soldier "in the field," and I suppose your time was fully taken up reorganizing your company and regiment.

Since last writing you we had some little excitement ourselves. The Yankee, Meade, has tried to take advantage of our supposed decimated army, and has advanced across the Rappahannock river to the banks of the Rapidan. We have here checked his advance and are awaiting the attack which he is very slow about making. I think both sides are awaiting the decision of the battle in Tennessee and Georgia before a move is made.

We are daily in receipt of glorious news from Bragg, but there are so many rumors without foundation that we hardly know what he has done. I hope he will not rest until he has driven the foe across the Ohio. You have our brag fighting general with you now, and I know you will be victorious.

I have not heard a word from "Miss Mattie" since I left home, and if the truth must be told, I never want to again. I have found a new sweetheart, and I think the change is more agreeable, at least to me. I suppose you know that Miss Katie Furlow's father is running for Governor; of course you will support him.

You recollect that pretty little woman that I showed you in the theatre in Augusta, the one I said was the belle of Augusta—Miss Fannie Hatch. Well, I have been told by one who knows and believes, that "Albert," who performed with the "Queen Sisters" that night, has betrayed her. I can scarcely believe that so much loveliness would have fallen so easily, yet they say 'tis true.

I shall anxiously wait to hear further from you in reference to the lieutenancy. If you are successful in securing it for me (which I hope and pray you may be,) I shall be ever grateful to you.

I have not seen Joe Holt since the reception of yours, his regiment being on picket guard. I know he would send you his kind regards, if he knew I was writing to you. Accept my best wishes, and believe me to be

Truly your Friend,

A. KENT BISEL.

P.S.—Please direct to Co. "K," 4th Georgia, Dole's Brigade, Rhodes' Division, Ewell's Corps, A.N.V., and always to Richmond, Virginia.

THE END