Nearly all the early editors were also printers. Earle S. Goodrich, editor-in-chief of the Pioneer: Thomas Foster, editor of the Minnesotian; T.M. Newson, editor of the Times, and John P. Owens, first editor of the Minnesotian, were all printers. When the old Press removed from Bridge Square in 1869 to the new building on the corner of Third and Minnesota streets, Earle S. Goodrich came up into the composing room and requested the privilege of setting the first type in the new building. He was provided with a stick and rule and set up about half a column of editorial without copy. The editor of the Press, in commenting on his article, said it was set up as "clean as the blotless pages of Shakespeare." In looking over the article the next morning some of the typos discovered an error in the first line.



THE DECISIVE BATTLE OF MILL SPRINGS.

THE FIRST BATTLE DURING THE CIVIL WAR IN WHICH THE UNION FORCES SCORED A DECISIVE VICTORY—THE SECOND MINNESOTA THE HEROES OF THE DAY—THE REBEL GENERAL ZOLLICOFFER KILLED.

Every Minnesotian's heart swells with pride whenever mention is made of the grand record of the volunteers from the North Star State in the great struggle for the suppression of the rebellion. At the outbreak of the war Minnesota was required to furnish one regiment, but so intensely patriotic were its citizens that nearly two regiments volunteered at the first call of the president. As only ten companies could go in the first regiment the surplus was held in readiness for a second call, which it was thought would be soon forthcoming. On the 16th of June, 1861, Gov. Ramsey received notice that a second regiment would be acceptable, and accordingly the companies already organized with two or three additions made up the famous Second Minnesota. H.P. Van Cleve was appointed colonel, with headquarters at Fort Snelling. Several of the companies were sent to the frontier to relieve detachments of regulars stationed at various posts, but on the 16th of October, 1861, the full regiment started for Washington. On reaching Pittsburgh, however, their destination was changed to Louisville, at which place they were ordered to report to Gen. W.T. Sherman, then in command of the Department of the Cumberland, and they at once received orders to proceed to Lebanon Junction, about thirty miles south of Louisville. The regiment remained at this camp about six weeks before anything occurred to relieve the monotony of camp life, although there were numerous rumors of night attacks by large bodies of Confederates. On the 15th of November, 1861, Gen. Buell assumed command of all the volunteers in the vicinity of Louisville, and he at once organized them into divisions and brigades. Early in December the Second regiment moved to Lebanon, Ky., and, en route, the train was fired at. At Lebanon the Second Minnesota, Eighteenth United States infantry, Ninth and Thirty-fifth Ohio regiments were organized into a brigade, and formed part of Gen. George H. Thomas' First division. On Jan. 1, 1862, Gen. Thomas started his troops on the Mill Springs campaign and from the 1st to the 17th day of January, spent most of its time marching under rain, sleet and through mud, and on the latter date went into camp near Logan's Cross Roads, eight miles north of Zollicoffer's intrenched rebel camp at Beech Grove. On the night of Jan. 18, Company A was on picket duty. It had been raining incessantly and was so dark that it was with difficulty that pickets could be relieved. Just at daybreak the rebel advance struck the pickets of the Union lines, and several musket shots rang out with great distinctness, and in quick succession, it being the first rebel shot that the boys had ever heard. Then all was quiet for a time. The firing soon commenced again, nearer and more distinct than at first, and thicker and faster as the rebel advance encountered the Union pickets. The Second Minnesota had entered the woods and passing through the Tenth Indiana, then out of ammunition and retiring and no longer firing. The enemy, emboldened by the cessation and mistaking its cause, assumed they had the Yanks on the run, advanced to the rail fence separating the woods from the field just as the Second Minnesota was doing the same, and while the rebels got there first, they were also first to get away and make a run to their rear. But before they ran their firing was resumed and Minnesotians got busy and the Fifteenth Mississippi and the Sixteenth Alabama regiments were made to feel that they had run up against something. To the right of the Second were two of Kinney's cannon and to their right was the Ninth Ohio. The mist and smoke which hung closely was too thick to see through, but by lying down it was possible to look under the smoke and to see the first rebel line, and that it was in bad shape, and back of it and down on the low ground a second line, with their third line on the high ground on the further side of the field. That the Second Minnesota was in close contact with the enemy was evident all along its line, blasts of fire and belching smoke coming across the fence from Mississippi muskets. The contest was at times hand to hand—the Second Minnesota and the rebels running their guns through the fence, firing and using the bayonet when opportunity offered. The firing was very brisk for some time when it was suddenly discovered that the enemy had disappeared. The battle was over, the Johnnies had "skedaddled," leaving their dead and dying on the bloody field. Many of the enemy were killed and wounded, and some few surrendered. After the firing had ceased one rebel lieutenant bravely stood in front of the Second and calmly faced his fate. After being called on to surrender he made no reply, but deliberately raised his hand and shot Lieut. Stout through the body. He was instantly shot. His name proved to be Bailie Peyton, son of one of the most prominent Union men in Tennessee. Gen. Zollicoffer, commander of the Confederate forces, was also killed in this battle. This battle, although a mere skirmish when compared to many other engagements in which the Second participated before the close of the war, was watched with great interest by the people of St. Paul. Two full companies had been recruited in the city and there was quite a number of St. Paulites in other companies of this regiment. When it became known that a battle had been fought in which the Second had been active participants, the relatives and friends of the men engaged in the struggle thronged the newspaper offices in quest of information regarding their safety. The casualties in the Second Minnesota, amounted to twelve killed and thirty-five wounded. Two or three days after the battle letters were received from different members of the Second, claiming that they had shot Bailie Payton and Zollicoffer. It afterward was learned that no one ever knew who shot Peyton, and that Col. Fry of the Fourth Kentucky shot Zollicoffer. Lieut. Tuttle captured Peyton's sword and still has it in his possession. This sword has a historic record. It was presented to Bailie Peyton by the citizens of New Orleans at the outbreak of the Mexican war, and was carried by Col. Peyton during the entire war. Col. Peyton was on Gen. Scott's staff at the close of the war, and when Santa Anna surrendered the City of Mexico to Gen. Scott, Col. Peyton was the staff officer designated by Scott to receive the surrender of the city, carrying this sword by his side. It bears this inscription: "Presented to Col. Bailie Peyton, Fifth Regiment Louisiana Volunteer National Guards, by his friends of New Orleans. His country required his services. His deeds will add glory to her arms." There has been considerable correspondence between the government and state, officials and the descendants of Col. Peyton relative to returning this trophy to Col. Peyton's relatives, but so far no arrangements to that effect have been concluded.

It was reported by Tennesseeans at the time of the battle that young Peyton was what was known as a "hoop-skirt" convert to the Confederate cause. Southern ladies were decidedly more pronounced secessionists than were the sterner sex, and whenever they discovered that one of their chivalric brethren was a little lukewarm toward the cause of the South they sent him a hoop skirt, which indicated that the recipient was lacking in bravery. For telling of his loyalty to the Union he was insulted and hissed at on the streets of Nashville, and when he received a hoop skirt from his lady friends he reluctantly concluded to take up arms against the country he loved so well. He paid the penalty of foolhardy recklessness in the first battle in which he participated.

A correspondent of the Cincinnati Commercial, who was an eye-witness of the battle, gave a glowing description of the heroic conduct of the Second Minnesota during the engagement. He said: "The success of the battle was when the Second Minnesota and the Ninth Ohio appeared in good order sweeping through the field. The Second Minnesota, from its position in the column, was almost in the center of the fight, and in the heaviest of the enemy's fire. They were the first troops that used the bayonet, and the style with which they went into the fight is the theme of enthusiastic comment throughout the army."

It was the boast of Confederate leaders at the outbreak of the rebellion that one regiment of Johnnies was equal to two or more regiments of Yankees. After the battle of Mill Springs they had occasion to revise their ideas regarding the fighting qualities of the detested Yankees. From official reports of both sides, gathered after the engagement was over, it was shown that the Confederate forces outnumbered their Northern adversaries nearly three to one.

The victory proved a dominant factor in breaking up the Confederate right flank, and opened a way into East Tennessee, and by transferring the Union troops to a point from which to menace Nashville made the withdrawal of Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston's troops from Bowling Green, Ky., to Nashville necessary.

Confederate loss, 600 in killed, wounded and prisoners. Union loss, 248 in killed and wounded. Twelve rebel cannon and caissons complete were captured. Two hundred wagons with horses in harness were captured, as were large quantities of ammunition, store and camp equipments—in fact, the Union troops took all there was.

Col. Fry's version of the killing of Zollicoffer is as follows: While on the border of "old fields" a stranger in citizen clothes rode up by his side, so near that he could have put his hand upon his shoulder, and said: "Don't let us be firing on our own men. Those are our men," pointing at the same time toward our forces. Col. Fry looked upon him inquiringly a moment, supposing him to be one of his own men, after which he rode forward not more than fifteen paces, when an officer came dashing up, first recognizing the stranger and almost the same instant firing upon Col. Fry. At the same moment the stranger wheeled his horse, facing Col. Fry, when the colonel shot him in the breast.

Gen. Zollicoffer was a prominent and influential citizen of Nashville previous to the war, and stumped the state with Col. Peyton in opposition to the ordinance of secession, but when Tennessee seceded he determined to follow the fortunes of his state. The day before the battle Gen. Zollicoffer made a speech to his troops in which he said he would take them to Indiana or go to hell himself. He didn't go to Indiana.

The poet of the Fourth Kentucky perpetrated the following shortly after the battle:

"Old Zollicoffer is dead And the last word he said: I see a wild cat coming. Up steps Col. Fry. And he hit him in the eye And he sent him to the happy land of Canaan. Ho! boys, ho! For the Union go! Hip hurrah for the happy land of freedom."

The loyal Kentuckians were in great glee and rejoiced over the victory. It was their battle against rebel invaders from Tennessee, Mississippi and Alabama, who were first met by their own troops of Wolford's First cavalry and the Fourth Kentucky infantry, whose blood was the first to be shed in defense of the Stars and Stripes; and their gratitude went out to their neighbors from Minnesota, Indiana and Ohio who came to their support and drove the invaders out of their state. On Feb. 24, 1862, the Second Minnesota was again in Louisville, where the regiment had admirers and warm friends in the loyal ladies, who as evidence of their high appreciation, though the mayor of the city, Hon. J.M. Dolph, presented to the Second regiment a silk flag. The mayor said. "Each regiment is equally entitled to like honor, but the gallant conduct of those who came from a distant state to unite in subduing our rebel invaders excites the warmest emotions of our hearts."

On Jan. 25 President Lincoln's congratulations were read to the regiment, and on Feb. 9, at Waitsboro, Ky., the following joint resolution of the Minnesota legislature was read before the regiment:

Whereas, the noble part borne by the First regiment, Minnesota infantry, in the battles of Bull Run and Ball's Bluff, Va., is yet fresh in our minds; and, whereas, we have heard with equal satisfaction the intelligence of the heroism displayed by the Second Minnesota infantry in the late brilliant action at Mill Springs, Ky.:

Therefore be it resolved by the legislature of Minnesota, That while it was the fortune of the veteran First regiment to shed luster upon defeat, it was reserved for the glorious Second regiment to add victory to glory.

Resolved, that the bravery of our noble sons, heroes whether in defeat or victory, is a source of pride to the state that sent them forth, and will never fail to secure to them the honor and the homage of the government and the people.

Resolved, That we sympathize with the friends of our slain soldiers, claiming as well to share their grief as to participate in the renown which the virtues and valor of the dead have conferred on our arms.

Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions, having the signature of the executive and the great seal of the state, be immediately forwarded by the governor to the colonels severally in command of the regiments, to be by them communicated to their soldiers at dress parade.

The battle at Mill Springs was the first important victory achieved by the Union army in the Southwest after the outbreak of the rebellion, and the result of that engagement occasioned great rejoicing throughout the loyal North. Although the battle was fought forty-five years ago, quite a number of men engaged in that historic event are still living in St. Paul, a number of them actively engaged in business. Among the number are J.W. Bishop, J.C. Donahower, M.C. Tuttle, R.A. Lanpher, M.J. Clum, William Bircher, Robert G. Rhodes, John H. Gibbons, William Wagner, Joseph Burger, Jacob J. Miller, Christian Dehn, William Kemper, Jacob Bernard, Charles F. Myer, Phillip Potts and Fred Dohm.



THE GREAT BATTLE OF PITTSBURG LANDING.

A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF ONE OF THE GREATEST AND MOST SANGUINARY BATTLES OF THE CIVIL WAR—TERRIBLE LOSS OF LIFE—GALLANT ACTION OF THE FIRST MINNESOTA BATTERY—DEATH OF CAPT. W.H. ACKER.

The battle of Pittsburg Landing on the 6th and 7th of April, 1862, was one of the most terrific of the many great battles of the great Civil war. It has been likened to the battle of Waterloo. Napoleon sought to destroy the army of Wellington before a junction could be made with Blucher. Johnston and Beauregard undertook to annihilate the Army of the Tennessee, under Gen. Grant, before the Army of the Cumberland, under Buell, could come to his assistance. At the second battle of Bull Run Gen. Pope claimed that Porter was within sound of his guns, yet he remained inactive. At Pittsburg Landing it was claimed by military men that Gen. Buell could have made a junction with Grant twenty-four hours sooner and thereby saved a terrible loss of life had he chosen to do so. Both generals were subsequently suspended from their commands and charges of disloyalty were made against them by many newspapers in the North. Gen. Porter was tried by court-martial and dismissed from the service. Many years after this decision was revoked by congress and the stigma of disloyalty removed from his name. Gen. Buell was tried by court-martial, but the findings of the court were never made public. Gen. Grant did not think Gen. Buell was guilty of the charges against him, and when he became commander-in-chief of the army in 1864 endeavored to have him restored to his command, but the war department did not seem inclined to do so. About two weeks before the battle of Pittsburg Landing Gen. Grant was suspended from the command of the Army of the Tennessee by Gen. Halleck, but owing to some delay in the transmission of the order, an order came from headquarters restoring him to his command before he knew that he had been suspended. Gen. Grant's success at Fort Henry and Fort Donelson made his superiors jealous of his popularity. He was ordered arrested by Gen. McClellan, but the order was held up by the war department until Gen. Grant could be heard from. The reason for his arrest was that he went to Nashville to consult with Buell without permission of the commanding general. Dispatches sent to Grant for information concerning his command was never delivered to him, but were delivered over to the rebel authorities by a rebel telegraph operator, who shortly afterward joined the Confederate forces.

Many years after the war Gen. Badeau, one of Grant's staff officers, was in search of information for his "History of Grant's Military Campaigns," and he unearthed in the archives of the war department the full correspondence between Halleck, McClellan and the secretary of war, and it was not until then that Gen. Grant learned the full extent of the absurd accusations made against him.

After the battle of Pittsburg Landing Gen. Halleck assumed personal command of all the forces at that point and Gen. Grant was placed second in command, which meant that he had no command at all. This was very distasteful to Gen. Grant and he would have resigned his commission and returned to St. Louis but for the interposition of his friend, Gen. W.T. Sherman. Gen. Grant had packed up his belongings and was about to depart when Gen. Sherman met him at his tent and persuaded him to refrain. In a short time Halleck was ordered to Washington and Grant was made commander of the Department of West Tennessee, with headquarters at Memphis. Gen. Grant's subsequent career proved the wisdom of Sherman's entreaty.

When Gen. Halleck assumed command he constructed magnificent fortifications, and they were a splendid monument to his engineering skill, but they were never occupied. He was like the celebrated king of France, who "with one hundred thousand men, marched up the hill and then down again." Gen. Halleck had under his immediate command more than one hundred thousand well equipped men, and the people of the North looked to him to administer a crushing blow to the then retreating enemy. The hour had arrived—the man had not.

"Flushed with the victory of Forts Henry and Donelson," said the envious Halleck in a dispatch to the war department, previous to the battle, "the army under Grant at Pittsburg Landing was more demoralized than the Army of the Potomac after the disastrous defeat of Bull Run."

Soon after the battle the venerable Gen. Scott predicted that the war would soon be ended—that thereafter there would be nothing but guerrilla warfare at interior points. Gen. Grant himself in his memoirs says that had the victory at Pittsburg Landing been followed up and the army been kept intact the battles at Stone River, Chattanooga and Chickamauga would not have been necessary.

Probably the battle of Pittsburg Landing was the most misunderstood and most misrepresented of any battle occurring during the war. It was charged that Grant was drunk; that he was far away from the battleground when the attack was made, and was wholly unprepared to meet the terrible onslaught of the enemy in the earlier stages of the encounter. Gen. Beauregard is said to have stated on the morning of the battle that before sundown he would water his horses in the Tennessee river or in hell. That the rebels did not succeed in reaching the Tennessee was not from lack of dash and daring on their part, but was on account of the sturdy resistance and heroism of their adversaries. According to Gen. Grant's own account of the battle, though suffering intense pain from a sprained ankle, he was in the saddle from early morning till late at night, riding from division to division, giving directions to their commanding officers regarding the many changes in the disposition of their forces rendered necessary by the progress of the battle. The firm resistance made by the force under his command is sufficient refutation of the falsity of the charges made against him. Misunderstanding of orders, want of co-operation of subordinates as well as superiors, and rawness of recruits were said to have been responsible for the terrible slaughter of the Union forces on the first day of the battle.

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The battle of Pittsburg Landing is sometimes called the battle of Shiloh, some of the hardest lighting having been done in the vicinity of an old log church called the Church of Shiloh, about three miles from the landing.

The battle ground traversed by the opposing forces occupied a semi-circle of about three and a half miles from the town of Pittsburg, the Union forces being stationed in the form of a semi-circle, the right resting on a point north of Crump's Landing, the center being directly in front of the road to Corinth, and the left extending to the river in the direction of Harrisburg—a small place north of Pittsburg Landing. At about 2 o'clock on Sunday morning, Col. Peabody of Prentiss' division, fearing that everything was not right, dispatched a body of 400 men beyond the camp for the purpose of looking after any body of men which might be lurking in that direction. This step was wisely taken, for a half a mile advance showed a heavy force approaching, who fired upon them with great slaughter. This force taken by surprise, was compelled to retreat, which they did in good order under a galling fire. At 6 o'clock the fire had become general along the entire front, the enemy having driven in the pickets of Gen. Sherman's division and had fallen with vengeance upon three Ohio regiments of raw recruits, who knew nothing of the approach of the enemy until they were within their midst. The slaughter on the first approach of the enemy was very severe, scores falling at every discharge of rebel guns. It soon became apparent that the rebel forces were approaching in overwhelming numbers and there was nothing left for them to do but retreat, which was done with considerable disorder, both officers and men losing every particle of their baggage, which fell into rebel hands.

At 8:30 o'clock the fight had become general, the second line of divisions having received the advance in good order and made every preparation for a suitable reception of the foe. At this time many thousand stragglers, many of whom had never before heard the sound of musketry, turned their backs to the enemy, and neither threats or persuasion could induce them to turn back. The timely arrival of Gen. Grant, who had hastened up from Savannah, led to the adoption of measures that put a stop to this uncalled-for flight from the battle ground. A strong guard was placed across the thoroughfare, with orders to hault every soldier whose face was turned toward the river, and thus a general stampede was prevented. At 10 o'clock the entire line on both sides was engaged in one of the most terrible battles ever known in this country. The roar of the cannon and musketry was without intermission from the main center to a point extending halfway down the left wing. The great struggle was most upon the forces which had fallen back on Sherman's position. By 11 o'clock quite a number of the commanders of regiments had fallen, and in some instances not a single field officer remained; yet the fighting continued with an earnestness that plainly showed that the contest on both sides was for death or victory. The almost deafening sound of artillery and the rattle of musketry was all that could be heard as the men stood silently and delivered their fire, evidently bent on the work of destruction which knew no bounds. Foot by foot the ground was contested, a single narrow strip of open land dividing the opponents. Many who were maimed fell back without help, while others still fought in the ranks until they were actually forced back by their company officers. Finding it impossible to drive back the center of our column, at 12 o'clock the enemy slackened fire upon it and made a most vigorous effort on our left wing, endeavoring to drive it to the river bank at a point about a mile and a half above Pittsburg Landing. With the demonstration of the enemy upon the left wing it was soon seen that all their fury was being poured out upon it, with a determination that it should give way. For about two hours a sheet of fire blazed both columns, the rattle of musketry making a most deafening noise. For about an hour it was feared that the enemy would succeed in driving our forces to the river bank, the rebels at times being plainly seen by those on the main landing below. While the conflict raged the hottest in this quarter the gunboat Tyler passed slowly up the river to a point directly opposite the enemy and poured in a broadside from her immense guns. The shells went tearing and crashing through the woods, felling trees in their course and spreading havoc wherever they fell. The explosions were fearful, the shells falling far inland, and they struck terror to the rebel force. Foiled in this attempt, they now made another attack on the center and fought like tigers. They found our lines well prepared and in full expectation of their coming. Every man was at his post and all willing to bring the contest to a definite conclusion. In hourly expectation of the arrival of reinforcements, under Generals Nelson and Thomas of Buell's army, they made every effort to rout our forces before the reinforcements could reach the battle ground. They were, however, fighting against a wall of steel. Volley answered volley and for a time the battle of the morning was re-enacted on the same ground and with the same vigor on both sides. At 5 o'clock there was a short cessation in the firing of the enemy, their lines falling back on the center for about half a mile. They again wheeled and suddenly threw their entire force upon the left wing, determined to make the final struggle of the day in that quarter. The gunboat Lexington in the meantime had arrived from Savannah, and after sending a message to Gen. Grant to ascertain in which direction the enemy was from the river, the Lexington and Tyler took a position about half a mile above the river landing, and poured their shells up a deep ravine reaching to the river on the right. Their shots were thick and fast and told with telling effect. In the meantime Gen. Lew Wallace, who had taken a circuitous route from Crump's Landing, appeared suddenly on the left wing of the rebels. In face of this combination the enemy felt that their bold effort was for the day a failure and as night was about at hand, they slowly fell back, fighting as they went, until they reached an advantageous position, somewhat in the rear, yet occupying the main road to Corinth. The gunboats continued to send their shells after them until they were far beyond reach. This ended the engagement for the day. Throughout the day the rebels evidently had fought with the Napoleonic idea of massing their entire force on weak points of the enemy, with the intention of braking through their lines, creating a panic and cutting off retreat.

The first day's battle, though resulting in a terrible loss of Union troops, was in reality a severe disappointment to the rebel leaders. They fully expected, with their overwhelming force to annihilate Grant's army, cross the Tennessee river and administer the same punishment to Buell, and then march on through Tennessee, Kentucky and into Ohio. They had conceived a very bold movement, but utterly failed to execute it.

Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston, commander of the Confederate forces, was killed in the first day's battle, being shot while attempting to induce a brigade of unwilling Confederates to make a charge on the enemy.

Gen. Buell was at Columbia, Tenn., on the 19th of March with a veteran force of 40,000 men, and it required nineteen days for him to reach the Tennessee river, eighty-five miles distant, marching less than five miles a day, notwithstanding the fact that he had been ordered to make a junction with Grant's forces as soon as possible, and was well informed of the urgency of the situation.

During the night steamers were engaged in carrying the troops of Nelson's division across the river. As soon as the boats reached the shore the troops immediately left, and, without music, took their way to the advance of the left wing of the Union forces. They had come up double quick from Savannah, and as they were regarded as veterans, the greatest confidence was soon manifest as to the successful termination of the battle. With the first hours of daylight it was evident that the enemy had also been strongly reinforced, for, notwithstanding they must have known of the arrival of new Union troops, they were first to open the ball, which they did with considerable alacrity. The attacks that began came from the main Corinth road, a point to which they seemed strongly attached, and which at no time did they leave unprotected. Within half an hour from the first firing in the morning the contest then again spread in either direction, and both the main and left wings were not so anxious to fight their way to the river bank as on the previous day, having a slight experience of what they might expect if again brought under the powerful guns of the Tyler and Lexington. They were not, however, lacking in activity, and they were met by our reinforced troops with an energy that they did not anticipate. At 9 o'clock the sound of the artillery and musketry fully equaled that of the day before. It now became evident that the rebels were avoiding our extreme left wing, and were endeavoring to find a weak point in our line by which they could turn our force and thus create a panic. They left one point but to return to it immediately, and then as suddenly would direct an assault upon a division where they imagined they would not be expected. The fire of the united forces was as steady as clockwork, and it soon became evident that the enemy considered the task they had undertaken a hopeless one. Notwithstanding continued repulses, the rebels up to 11 o'clock had given no evidence of retiring from the field. Their firing had been as rapid and vigorous at times as during the most terrible hours of the previous day. Generals Grant, Buell, Nelson and Crittenden were present everywhere directing the movements on our part for a new strike against the foe. Gen. Lew Wallace's division on the right had been strongly reinforced, and suddenly both wings of our army were turned upon the enemy, with the intention of driving the immense body into an extensive ravine. At the same time a powerful battery had been stationed upon an open field, and they poured volley after volley into the rebel ranks and with the most telling effect. At 11:30 o'clock the roar of battle almost shook the earth, as the Union guns were being fired with all the energy that the prospect of ultimate victory inspired. The fire from the enemy was not so vigorous and they began to evince a desire to withdraw. They fought as they slowly moved back, keeping up their fire from their artillery and musketry, apparently disclaiming any notion that they thought of retreating. As they retreated they went in excellent order, halting at every advantageous point and delivering their fire with considerable effect. At noon it was settled beyond dispute that the rebels were retreating. They were making but little fire, and were heading their center column for Corinth. From all divisions of our lines they were closely pursued, a galling fire being kept up on their rear, which they returned at intervals with little or no effect. From Sunday morning until Monday noon not less than three thousand cavalry had remained seated In their saddles on the hilltop overlooking the river, patiently awaiting the time when an order should come for them to pursue the flying enemy. That time had now arrived and a courier from Gen. Grant had scarcely delivered his message before the entire body was in motion. The wild tumult of the excited riders presented a picture seldom witnessed on a battlefield. Gen. Grant himself led the charge.

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Gen. Grant, in his memoirs, summarizes the results of the two days' fighting as follows: "I rode forward several miles the day of the battle and found that the enemy had dropped nearly all of their provisions and other luggage in order to enable them to get off with their guns. An immediate pursuit would have resulted in the capture of a considerable number of prisoners and probably some guns...." The effective strength of the Union forces on the morning of the 6th was 33,000 men. Lew Wallace brought 5,000 more after nightfall. Beauregard reported the rebel strength at 40,955. Excluding the troops who fled, there was not with us at any time during the day more than 25,000 men in line. Our loss in the two days' fighting was 1,754 killed, 8,408 wounded and 2,885 missing. Beauregard reported a total loss of 10,699, of whom 1,728 were killed, 8,012 wounded and 957 missing.

On the first day of the battle Gen. Prentiss, during a change of position of the Union forces, became detached from the rest of the troops, and was taken prisoner, together with 2,200 of his men. Gen. W.H.L. Wallace, division commander, was killed in the early part of the struggle.

The hardest fighting during the first day was done in front of the divisions of Sherman and McClernand. "A casualty to Sherman," says Gen. Grant, "that would have taken him from the field that day would have been a sad one for the Union troops engaged at Shiloh. And how near we came to this! On the 6th Sherman was shot twice, once in the hand, once in the shoulder, the ball cutting his coat and making a slight wound, and a third ball passed through his hat. In addition to this he had several horses shot during the day."

During the second day of the battle Gen. Grant, Col. McPherson and Maj. Hawkins got beyond the left of our troops. There did not appear to be an enemy in sight, but suddenly a battery opened on them from the edge of the woods. They made a hasty retreat and when they were at a safe distance halted to take an account of the damage. In a few moments Col. McPherson's horse dropped dead, having been shot just back of the saddle. A ball had passed through Maj. Hawkins' hat and a ball had struck the metal of Gen. Grant's sword, breaking it nearly off.

On the first day of the battle about 6,000 fresh recruits who had never before heard the sound of musketry, fled on the approach of the enemy. They hid themselves on the river bank behind the bluff, and neither command nor persuasion could induce them to move. When Gen. Buell discovered them on his arrival he threatened to fire on them, but it had no effect. Gen. Grant says that afterward those same men proved to be some of the best soldiers in the service.

Gen. Grant, in his report, says he was prepared with the reinforcements of Gen. Lew Wallace's division of 5,000 men to assume the offensive on the second day of the battle, and thought he could have driven the rebels back to their fortified position at Corinth without the aid of Buell's army.

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At banquet hall, regimental reunion or campfire, whenever mention is made of the glorious record of Minnesota volunteers in the great Civil war, seldom, if ever, is the First Minnesota battery given credit for its share in the long struggle. Probably very few of the present residents of Minnesota are aware that such an organization existed. This battery was one of the finest organizations that left the state during the great crisis. It was in the terrible battle of Pittsburg Landing, the siege of Vicksburg, in front of Atlanta and in the great march from Atlanta to the sea, and in every position in which they were placed they not only covered themselves with glory, but they were an honor and credit to the state that sent them. The First Minnesota battery, light artillery, was organized at Fort Snelling in the fall of 1861, and Emil Munch was made its first captain. Shortly after being mustered in they were ordered to St. Louis, where they received their accoutrements, and from there they were ordered to Pittsburg Landing, arriving at the latter place late in February, 1862. The day before the battle, they were transferred to Prentiss' division of Grant's army. On Sunday morning, April 6, the battery was brought out bright and early, preparing for inspection. About 7 o'clock great commotion was heard at headquarters, and the battery was ordered to be ready to march at a moment's notice. In about ten minutes they were ordered to the front, the rebels having opened fire on the Union forces. In a very short time rebel bullets commenced to come thick and fast, and one of their number was killed and three others wounded. It soon became evident that the rebels were in great force in front of the battery, and orders were issued for them to choose another position. At about 11 o'clock the battery formed in a new position on an elevated piece of ground, and whenever the rebels undertook to cross the field in front of them the artillery raked them down with frightful slaughter. Several times the rebels placed batteries In the timber at the farther end of the field, but in each instance the guns of the First battery dislodged them before they could get into position. For hours the rebels vainly endeavored to break the lines of the Union forces, but in every instance they were repulsed with frightful loss, the canister mowing them down at close range. About 5 o'clock the rebels succeeded in flanking Gen. Prentiss and took part of his force prisoners. The battery was immediately withdrawn to an elevation near the Tennessee river, and it was not long before firing again commenced and kept up for half an hour, the ground fairly shaking from the continuous firing on both sides of the line. At about 6 o'clock the firing ceased, and the rebels withdrew to a safe distance from the landing. The casualties of the day were three killed and six wounded, two of the latter dying shortly afterward. The fight at what was known as the "hornet's nest" was most terrific, and had not the First battery held out so heroically and valiantly the rebels would have succeeded in forcing a retreat of the Union lines to a point dangerously near the Tennessee river. Capt. Munch's horse received a bullet In his head and fell, and the captain himself received a wound in the thigh, disabling him from further service during the battle. After Capt. Munch was wounded Lieut. Pfaender took command of the battery, and he had a horse shot from under him during the day. On the morning of April 7, Gen. Buell having arrived, the battery was held in reserve and did not participate in the battle that day. The First battery was the only organization from Minnesota engaged in the battle, and their conduct in the fiercest of the struggle, and in changing position in face of fire from the whole rebel line, was such as to receive the warmest commendation from the commanding officer. It was the first battle in which they had taken part, and as they had only received their guns and horses a few weeks before, they had not had much opportunity for drill work. Their terrible execution at critical times convinced the rebels that they had met a foe worthy of their steel.

* * * * *

Among the many thousands left dead and dying on the blood-stained field of Pittsburg Landing there was one name that was very dear in the hearts of the patriotic people of St. Paul,—a name that was as dear to the people of St. Paul as was the memory of the immortal Ellsworth to the people of Chicago. Capt. William Henry Acker, while marching at the head of his company, with uplifted sword and with voice and action urging on his comrades to the thickest of the fray, was pierced in the forehead by a rebel bullet and fell dead upon the ill-fated field.

Before going into action Capt. Acker was advised by his comrades not to wear his full uniform, as he was sure to be a target for rebel bullets, but the captain is said to have replied that if he had to die he would die with his harness on. Soon after forming his command into line, and when they had advanced only a few yards, he was singled out by a rebel sharpshooter and instantly killed—the only man in the. company to receive fatal injuries. "Loved, almost adored, by the company," says one of them, writing of the sad event, "Capt. Acker's fall cast a deep shadow of gloom over his command." It was but for a moment. With a last look at their dead commander, and with the watchword 'this for our captain,' volley after volley from their guns carried death into the ranks of his murderers. From that moment but one feeling seemed to possess his still living comrades—that of revenge for the death of their captain. How terribly they carried out that purpose the number of rebel slain piled around the vicinity of his body fearfully attest.

The announcement of the death of Capt. Acker was a very severe blow to his relatives and many friends in this city. No event thus far in the history of the Rebellion had brought to our doors such a realizing sense of the sad realities of the terrible havoc wrought upon the battlefield. A noble life had been sacrificed in the cause of freedom—one more name had been added to the long death roll of the nation's heroes.

Capt. Acker was born a soldier—brave, able, popular and courteous—and had he lived would undoubtedly been placed high in rank long before the close of the rebellion. No person ever went to the front in whom the citizens of St. Paul had more hope for a brilliant future. He was born in New York State in 1833, and was twenty-eight years of age at the time of his death. He came to St. Paul in 1854 and commenced the study of law in the office of his brother-in-law, Hon. Edmund Rice. He did not remain long in the law business, however, but soon changed to a position in the Bank of Minnesota, which had just been established by ex-Gov. Marshall. For some time he was captain of the Pioneer Guards, a company which he was instrumental in forming, and which was the finest military organization in the West at that time. In 1860 he was chosen commander of the Wide-Awakes, a marching-club, devoted to the promotion of the candidacy of Abraham Lincoln, and many of the men he so patiently drilled during that exciting campaign became officers in the volunteer service in that great struggle that soon followed. Little did the captain imagine at that time that the success of the man whose cause he espoused would so soon be the means of his untimely death. At the breaking out of the war Capt. Acker was adjutant general of the State of Minnesota, but he thought he would be of more use to his country in active service and resigned that position and organized a company for the First Minnesota regiment, of which he was made captain. At the first battle of Bull Run he was wounded, and for his gallant action was made captain in the Seventeenth United States Regulars, an organization that had been recently created by act of congress. The Sixteenth regiment was attached to Buell's army, and participated in the second day's battle, and Cat. Acker was one of the first to fall on that terrible day, being shot in the identical spot in the forehead where he was wounded at the first battle of Bull Run. As soon as the news was received in St. Paul of the captain's death his father, Hon. Henry Acker, left for Pittsburg Landing, hoping to be able to recover the remains of his martyred son and bring the body back to St. Paul. His body was easily found, his burial place having been carefully marked by members of the Second Minnesota who arrived on the battleground a short time after the battle. When the remains arrived in St. Paul they were met at the steamboat landing by a large number of citizens and escorted to Masonic hall, where they rested till the time of the funeral. The funeral obsequies were held at St. Paul's church on Sunday, May 4, 1862, and were attended by the largest concourse of citizens that had ever attended a funeral in St. Paul, many being present from Minneapolis, St. Anthony and Stillwater. The respect shown to the memory of Capt. Acker was universal, and of a character which fully demonstrated the high esteem in which he was held by the people of St. Paul.

When the first Grand Army post was formed in St. Paul a name commemorative of one of Minnesota's fallen heroes was desired for the organization. Out of the long list of martyrs Minnesota gave to the cause of the Union no name seemed more appropriate than that of the heroic Capt. Acker, and it was unanimously decided that the first association of Civil war veterans in this city should be known as Acker post.

THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.

* * * * *

The terrible and sensational news that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated, which was flashed over the wires on the morning of April 15, 1865 (forty years ago yesterday), was the most appalling announcement that had been made during the long crisis through which the country had just passed. Every head was bowed in grief. No tongue could find language sufficiently strong to express condemnation of the fiendish act. The entire country was plunged in mourning. It was not safe for any one to utter a word against the character of the martyred president. At no place in the entire country was the terrible calamity more deeply felt than in St. Paul. All public and private buildings were draped in mourning. Every church held memorial services. The services at the little House of Hope church on Walnut street will long be remembered by all those who were there. The church was heavily draped in mourning. It had been suddenly transformed from a house of hope to a house of sorrow, a house of woe. The pastor of the church was the Rev. Frederick A. Noble. He was one of the most eloquent and learned divines in the city—fearless, forcible and aggressive—the Henry Ward Beecher of the Northwest. President Lincoln was his ideal statesman.

The members of the House of Hope were intensely patriotic. Many of their number were at the front defending their imperiled country. Scores and scores of times during the desperate conflict had the eloquent pastor of this church delivered stirring addresses favoring a vigorous prosecution of the war. During the darkest days of the Rebellion, when the prospect of the final triumph of the cause of the Union seemed furthest off, Mr. Noble never faltered; he believed that the cause was just and that right would finally triumph. When the terrible and heart-rending news was received that an assassin's bullet had ended the life of the greatest of all presidents the effect was so paralyzing that hearts almost ceased beating. Every member of the congregation felt as if one of their own household had been suddenly taken from them. The services at the church on the Sunday morning following the assassination were most solemn and impressive. The little edifice was crowded almost to suffication, and when the pastor was seen slowly ascending the pulpit, breathless silence prevailed. He was pale and haggard, and appeared to be suffering great mental agony. With bowed head and uplifted hands, and with a voice trembling with almost uncontrollable emotion, he delivered one of the most fervent and impressive invocations ever heard by the audience. Had the dead body of the president been placed in front of the altar, the solemnity of the occasion could not have been greater. In the discourse that followed, Mr. Noble briefly sketched the early history of the president, and then devoted some time to the many grand deeds he had accomplished during the time he had been in the presidential chair. For more than four years he had patiently and anxiously watched the progress of the terrible struggle, and now, when victory was in sight, when it was apparent to all that the fall of Richmond, the surrender of Lee and the probable surrender of Johnston would end the long war, he was cruelly stricken down by the hand of an assassin. "With malice towards none and with charity to all, and with firmness for the right, as God gives us to see the right," were utterances then fresh from the president's lips. To strike down such a man at such a time was indeed a crime most horrible. There was scarcely a dry eye in the audience. Men and women alike wept. It was supposed at the time that Secretary of State Seward had also fallen a victim of the assassin's dagger. It was the purpose of the conspirators to murder the president, vice president and entire cabinet, but in only one instance did the attempt prove fatal. Secretary Seward was the foremost statesmen of the time. His diplomatic skill had kept the country free from foreign entanglements during the long and bitter struggle. He, too, was eulogized by the minister, and it rendered the occasion doubly mournful.

Since that time two other presidents have been mercilessly slain by the hand of an assassin, and although the shock to the country was terrible, it never seemed as if the grief was as deep and universal as when the bullet fired by John Wilkes Booth pierced the temple of Abraham Lincoln.



AN ALLEGORICAL HOROSCOPE

* * * * *

IN TWO CHAPTERS.

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CHAPTER I.—AN OPTIMISTIC FORECAST.

As the sun was gently receding in the western horizon on a beautiful summer evening nearly a century ago, a solitary voyageur might have been seen slowly ascending the sinuous stream that stretches from the North Star State to the Gulf of Mexico. He was on a mission of peace and good will to the red men of the distant forest. On nearing the shore of what is now a great city the lonely voyageur was amazed on discovering that the pale face of the white man had many years preceded him. "What, ho!" he muttered to himself; "methinks I see a paleface toying with a dusky maiden. I will have speech with him." On approaching near where the two were engaged in some weird incantation the voyageur overheard the dusky maiden impart a strange message to the paleface by her side. "From the stars I see in the firmament, the fixed stars that predominate in the configuration, I deduce the future destiny of man. 'Tis with thee. O Robert, to live always. This elixer which I now do administer to thee has been known to our people for countless generations. The possession of it will enable thee to conquer all thine enemies. Thou now beholdest, O Robert, the ground upon which some day a great city will be erected. Thou art destined to become the mighty chief of this great metropolis. Thy reign will be long and uninterrupted. Thou wert born when the conjunction of the planets did augur a life of perfect beatitude. As the years roll away the inhabitants of the city will multiply with great rapidity. Questions of great import regarding the welfare of the people will often come before thee for adjustment. To be successful In thy calling thou must never be guilty of having decided convictions on any subject, as thy friends will sometimes be pitted against each other in the advocacy of their various schemes. Thou must not antagonize either side by espousing the other's cause, but must always keep the rod and the gun close by thy side, so that when these emergencies arise and thou doth scent danger in the air thou canst quietly withdraw from the scene of action and chase the festive bison over the distant prairies or revel in piscatorial pleasure on the placid waters of a secluded lake until the working majority hath discovered some method of relieving thee of the necessity of committing thyself, and then, O Robert. thou canst return and complacently inform the disappointed party that the result would have been far different had not thou been called suddenly away. Thou canst thus preserve the friendship of all parties, and their votes are more essential to thee than the mere adoption of measures affecting the prosperity of thy people. When the requirements of the people of thy city become too great for thee alone to administer to all their wants, the great family of Okons, the lineal descendants of the sea kings from the bogs of Tipperary, will come to thy aid. Take friendly counsel with them, as to incur their displeasure will mean thy downfall. Let all the ends thou aimest at be to so dispose of the offices within thy gift that the Okons, and the followers of the Okons, will be as fixed in their positions as are the stars in their orbits."

After delivering this strange astrological exhortation the dusky maiden slowly retreated toward the entrance of a nearby cavern, the paleface meandered forth to survey the ground of his future greatness and the voyageur resumed his lonely journey toward the setting sun.

* * * * *

CHAPTER II.—A TERRIBLE REALITY.

After the lapse of more than four score of years the voyageur from the frigid North returned from his philanthropic visit to the red man. A wonderful change met the eye. A transformation as magnificent as it was bewildering had occurred. The same grand old bluffs looked proudly down upon the Father of Water. The same magnificent river pursued its unmolested course toward the boundless ocean. But all else had changed. The hostile warrior no longer impeded the onward march of civilization, and cultivated fields abounded on every side. Steamers were hourly traversing the translucent waters of the great Mississippi; steam and electricity were carrying people with the rapidity of lightning in every direction; gigantic buildings appeared on the earth's surface, visible in either direction as far as the eye could reach; on every corner was a proud descendant of Erin's nobility, clad in gorgeous raiment, who had been branded "St. Paul's finest" before leaving the shores of his native land. In the midst of this great city was a magnificent building, erected by the generosity of its people, in which the paleface, supported on either side by the Okons, was the high and mighty ruler. The Okons and the followers of the Okons were in possession of every office within the gift of the paleface. Floating proudly from the top of this great building was an immense banner, on which was painted in monster letters the talismanic words: "For mayor, 1902, Robert A. Smith," Verily the prophecy of the dusky maiden had been fulfilled. The paleface had become impregnably intrenched. The Okons could never be dislodged.

With feelings of unutterable anguish at the omnipresence of the Okons, the aged voyageur quietly retraced his footsteps and was never more seen by the helpless and overburdened subjects of the paleface.



SPELLING DOWN A SCHOOL.

* * * * *

When I was about twelve years of age I resided in a small village in one of the mountainous and sparsely settled sections of the northern part of Pennsylvania.

It was before the advent of the railroad and telegraph in that locality. The people were not blessed with prosperity as it is known to-day. Neither were they gifted with the intellectual attainments possessed by the inhabitants of the same locality at the present time. Many of the old men served in the war of 1812, and they were looked up to with about the same veneration as are the heroes of the Civil War to-day. It was at a time when the younger generation was beginning to acquire a thirst for knowledge, but it was not easily obtained under the peculiar conditions existing at that period. A school district that was able to support a school for six months in each year was indeed considered fortunate, but even in these the older children were not permitted to attend during the summer months, as their services were considered indispensable in the cultivation of the soil.

Reading, writing and arithmetic were about all the studies pursued in those rural school districts, although occasionally some of the better class of the country maidens could be seen listlessly glancing over a geography or grammar, but they were regarded as "stuck up," and the other pupils thought they were endeavoring to master something far beyond their capacity.

Our winter school term generally commenced the first week in December and lasted until the first week in March, with one evening set apart each week for a spelling-match and recitation. We had our spelling match on Saturday nights, and every four weeks we would meet with schools in other districts in a grand spelling contest. I was considered too young to participate in any of the joint spelling matches, and my heart was heavy within me every time I saw a great four-horse sleigh loaded with joyful boys and girls on their way to one of the great contests.

One Saturday night there was to be a grand spelling match at a country crossroad about four miles from our village, and four schools were to participate. As I saw the great sleigh loaded for the coming struggle the thought occurred to me that if I only managed to secure a ride without being observed I might in some way be able to demonstrate to the older scholars that in spelling at least I was their equal. While the driver was making a final inspection of the team preparatory to starting I managed to crawl under his seat, where I remained as quiet as mouse until the team arrived at the point of destination. I had not considered the question of getting back—I left that to chance. As soon as the different schools had arrived two of the best spellers were selected to choose sides, and it happened that neither of them was from our school. I stood in front of the old-fashioned fire-place and eagerly watched the pupils as they took their places in the line. They were drawn in the order of their reputation as spellers. When they had finished calling the names I was still standing by the fireplace, and I thought my chance was hopeless. The school-master from our district noticed my woebegone appearance, and he arose from his seat and said:

"That boy standing by the fireplace is one of the best spellers in our school."

My name was then reluctantly called, and I took my place at the foot of the column. I felt very grateful towards our master for his compliment and I thought I would be able to hold my position in the line long enough to demonstrate that our master was correct. The school-master from our district was selected to pronounce the words, and I inwardly rejoiced.

After going down the line several times and a number of scholars had fallen on some simple word the school-master pronounced the word "phthisic." My heart leaped as the word fell from the school-master's lips. It was one of my favorite hard words and was not in the spelling book. It had been selected so as to floor the entire line in order to make way for the exercises to follow.

As I looked over the long line of overgrown country boys and girls I felt sure that none of them would be able to correctly spell the word. "Next!" "Next!" "Next!" said the school-master, and my pulse beat faster and faster as the older scholars ahead of me were relegated to their seats.

At last the crucial time had come. I was the only one left standing. As the school-master stood directly in front of me and said "Next," I could see by the twinkle in his eye that he thought I could correctly spell the word. My countenance had betrayed me. With a clear and distinct voice loud enough to be heard by every one in the room I spelled out "ph-th-is-ic—phthisic." "Correct," said the school-master, and all the scholars looked aghast at my promptness.

I shall never forget the kindly smile of the old school-master, as he laid the spelling book upon the teacher's desk, with the quiet remark: "I told you he could spell." I had spelled down four schools, and my reputation as a speller was established. Our school was declared to have furnished the champion speller of the four districts, and ever after my name was not the last one to be called.

On my return home I was not compelled to ride under the driver's seat.

HALF A CENTURY WITH THE PIONEER PRESS.

Pioneer Press, April 18, 1908:—Frank Moore, superintendent of the composing room if the Pioneer Press, celebrated yesterday the fiftieth anniversary of his connection with the paper. A dozen of the old employes of the Pioneer Press entertained Mr. Moore at an informal dinner at Magee's to celebrate the unusual event. Mr. Moore's service on the Pioneer Press, in fact, has been longer than the Pioneer Press itself, for he began his work on one of the newspapers which eventually was merged into the present Pioneer Press. He has held his present position as the head of the composing room for about forty years.

Frank Moore was fifteen years old when he came to St. Paul from Tioga county, Pa., where he was born. He came with his brother, George W. Moore, who was one of the owners and managers of the Minnesotian. His brother had been East and brought the boy West with him. Mr. Moore's first view of newspaper work was on the trip up the river to St. Paul. There had been a special election on a bond issue and on the way his brother stopped at the various towns to got the election returns.

Mr. Moore went to work for the Minnesotian on April 17, 1858, as a printer's "devil." It is interesting in these days of water works and telegraph to recall that among his duties was to carry water for the office. He got it from a spring below where the Merchants hotel now stands. Another of his jobs was to meet the boats. Whenever a steamer whistled Mr. Moore ran to the dock to get the bundle of newspapers the boat brought, and hurry with it back to the office. It was from these papers that the editors got the telegraph news of the world. He also was half the carrier staff of the paper. His territory covered all the city above Wabasha street, but as far as he went up the hill was College avenue and Ramsey street was his limit out West Seventh street. There was no St. Paul worth mentioning beyond that.

When the Press absorbed the Minnesotian in 1861, Mr. Moore went with it, and when in 1874 the Press and Pioneer were united Mr. Moore stayed with the merged paper. His service has been continuous, excepting during his service as a volunteer in the Civil war. The Pioneer Press, with its antecedents, has been his only interest.

While Mr. Moore's service is notable for its length, it is still more notable for the fact that he has grown with the paper, so that to-day at sixty-five he is still filling his important position as efficiently on a large modern newspaper as he filled it as a young man when things in the Northwest, including its newspapers, were in the beginning. Successive managements found that his services always gave full value and recognized in him an employe of unusual loyalty and devotion to the interests of the paper. Successive generations of employes have found him always just the kind of man it is a pleasure to have as a fellow workman.

THE END