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THE unexpected is ever the lot of the soldier. At dress parade of the regiment, the adjutant read out the order, "Company G, will proceed to garrison Fort Macon." Our company was detailed because it was then commanded by a first lieutenant, Theodore A. Thayer, Captain Murdoch being on the staff of General Amory, and for the further reason that, in taking station at Fort Macon, where a regular company of artillery were in garrison, there might be no conflict in command. We were to relieve a company of the 3d New York Artillery, which was ordered back to Newbern, and afterwards as light artillery saw service in the engagements of Kinston, Whitehall and Goldsboro.' The regulars were Co. "C," 1st U. S. Artillery, with whom we were quartered for over two months, until they were ordered away on the Charleston expedition.

Company "G" received the order with mingled feelings, pleasure at a change of station, and regret at leaving the regiment and camp just occupied with quarters nicely fixed for winter. On the following morning our company was drawn up in heavy marching order, camp equipage packed, and marched to Newbern where we took train for Morehead City, thence by boat across the bay, to Fort Macon. We landed at the wharf, marched up the narrow railroad track leading to the fort, through the entrance and on to the parade ground where we were dismissed.

Fort Macon is situated at the extreme end of a peninsula commanding the entrance to Beaufort Harbor, with the ocean on one side and the sound on the other. The upper end of the peninsular was not occupied by our troops, but was neutral territory. The Fort had been captured with all its armament some months before from the Confederates.

[image: Sergt. Ephraim Stearns, Company G]

[image: Fort Macon in 1863]

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After being dismissed on the parade ground, the men were assigned to quarters in the fort. Each non-commissioned officer with a detail of privates had a casemate which was to be their abiding place for the winter. After living in barracks we found the casemates very comfortable and homelike with large open fire places where we burned logs of wood. At night, when the candles were extinguished at taps, we piled the fire places high with wood and by that light made merry with story and joke.

We soon settled down into garrison life, and formed many pleasant acquaintances with the men of the regular artillery who were with us in the fort. We were drilled as heavy artillery, our men serving at the guns side by side with the regulars, so that we speedily became fairly proficient in handling the heavy ordnance. The drill at the guns was interesting, and had the charm of novelty. Target practice with the heavy columbiads and thirty-two pounders, firing solid shot, gave us an opportunity to show how proficient we were in handling the heavy guns and how well we had learned our lesson from the regulars. Our infantry drill was not neglected as we had regular drills in a field outside the fort.

The little incidents of our life in the fort come to me now after the lapse of years with all the importance they had to me then. They are not great events, but as they broke up the monotony of every day life and seemed very large to me then, I will try to recall a few happenings.

The soldiers from the camp across the bay used to visit us at the fort. One day a party rowed over and had to stay over night as the wind and waves were so strong they could not return. We took them in and made them comfortable for the night. During the evening a man in our company who was always ready to talk on any subject, had monopolized the conversation until some of our visitors showed by their expression that they thought him a little out of his head. We were used to him and paid little attention. At last one of our men lost patience and said: "For God's sake write it, if you keep your mouth shut they will never know you are a fool." Needless to add he subsided and kept quiet for the rest of the night.

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Another crowd of soldiers who had been visiting us attempted to return to the mainland in a storm so severe that the sentry on the rampart saw that the boat was being blown out to sea. He called the officer of the day's attention to the danger of the party as their boat had struck on a reef in the harbor. The alarm was given and a boat crew of our soldiers under Lieutenant Thayer put out to their rescue, but they too came very near being shipwrecked on the same reef. As something had to be done at once, the commander of the post raised a signal of distress from the flag staff and requested a government tug to go to the rescue of both boats which was quickly accomplished.

One Sunday morning after inspection of quarters, our company was drawn up on the parade ground for inspection by the commander. Our lieutenant was quite proud of his company and after the inspection of quarters, wished to show our proficiency in the manual of arms to a few visiting officers. The men had on their white gloves, as was customary on this occasion. The manual was executed with a snap and go until the order, "right shoulder shift" was given, which was performed in a half hearted slovenly manner. Now, it had rained the night before, and there were puddles of water on the parade ground, so that the men were loath to put their hands on the bottom of the stocks of their muskets, for fear of soiling their gloves. While such conduct was not soldierly, the men did not think how it looked to outsiders, but considered their own appearance. Lieutenant Thayer was very wroth at the dilatory manner in which his repeated commands were executed, and his exasperation only increased the careless manner of the soldiers in executing right shoulder shift. The company were almost in a state of mutiny. We were finally dismissed to our barracks, and it was the talk of the company all day that our Lieutenant had never shown such exasperation with his men.

The next morning we had to pay for it. We got orders to parade with knapsacks packed on our backs. We were taken by the first sergeant outside the fort, and given a sharp drill. All had to suffer for the action of a few careless soldiers. This

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knapsack drill was kept up for about a week, and the men took their medicine as though they enjoyed it. Finally the Lieutenant thought he had punished us enough. So ended the knapsack-drill.

There was a picket post some two miles up the island which was a favorite post for the guard. It was an independent command of a corporal and three privates, so the duties were not onerous. The tour of duty was for twenty-four hours. The guard quarters were an old wooden building with a bunk for the guard not on post, to lie on. I distinctly remember an old frying pan which we used in cooking salt pork and hard tack, quite an appetizing meal to us. Time used to hang heavily on our hands. We could not play cards as one of the four soldiers had to be on guard. One of our corporals, a good soldier, but prone to be original, was stationed at this picket post. He thought there was no danger in the day time from the enemy, and permitted the sentinel on post to leave his beat and join the rest in the building. The guns were all stacked outside the door, and the soldiers were inside enjoying themselves. The officer of the day in making his rounds came upon this scene, guns stacked, and no sentinel on post. In response to his command "Corporal, why is not your guard posted?" the corporal replied: "I didn't think there was any great necessity for it during the day." The lieutenant said, "I have a very good mind to put you under arrest." However, the reply seemed so droll to the officer, that he laughed and cautioned him not to let it occur again. The corporal never heard the last of this joke. This same corporal afterwards brought in two prisoners, poor whites, who had wandered down the island, and turned them over to the guard at the fort.

Beyond this picket post, the land was covered with stunted trees and bushes, and sparsely inhabited. A few of our men one day strolled beyond the picket lines and came to an old house occupied by white people. As usual, in North Carolina, there were many black pigs running wild. Naturally one of those pigs suggested fresh roast pork, and one was speedily captured without attracting attention. The transition of that pig to the

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table through the agency of the cook was soon accomplished. All went merrily until the owner of the pig appeared at the fort and demanded payment. The lieutenant called upon the company to pool in money enough to pay for the pig. All parties were satisfied.

A rumor reached the commander of the fort that there were Confederates on the farther end of the island, which was not occupied by the Union troops. A sergeant and several soldiers were sent up to reconnoitre and see if there was any truth in it. They had their trouble for their pains as none of the enemy were found.

I remember on one occasion going past the picket post with my rifle, a confederate arm, taken at the time the fort was captured, in order to practice shooting at objects on the beach. I was wandering over the sand dunes when I came across a party of soldiers who had on black overcoats. I was somewhat surprised at seeing them, and before I could find out whether they belonged to our army I was hailed by one of them. I answered and asked them what regiment they belonged to. They said the 46th Mass., which relieved me somewhat, as I had forgotten that that regiment, owing to the scarcity of regulation blue, were obliged to take the black overcoats, when they entered the service.

After going off guard we had the next day in which to clean up and rest, being excused from all regular duty. On these occasions we always had an opportunity to go over to Beaufort.

Beaufort before the war was quite a summer resort. It had an old seaside hotel which was used by the Federals as a hospital. There was an old darkey by the name of "Cuff," a name familiar to those of you who read this and belonged to the company, a good happy old fellow who came across the bay every morning to take over any of the soldiers who wanted to go to Beaufort.

There wasn't a great deal to do there, a few houses and stores, and an old hotel, where we used to get those famous dinners for fifty cents. I hardly think the landlord made much on us as we had unbounded appetites, and came away from his

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tables well satisfied. There was a piano in the parlor, and some of us would go in there, and the writer played accompaniments to the old army songs, and what a good time we did have singing them.

The expedition against Charleston was fitted out in the harbor of Beaufort. The war vessels and the transports for the troops rendezvoused there for about a month before sailing.

We had an interesting time watching the preparations. The fleet consisted of monitors, gunboats, and transports. The troops were drawn largely from our department, and boarded the ships there. When they sailed from Beaufort Harbor, it was one of the sights never to be forgotten, the gunboats leading, followed by the monitors and transports. The start was made late in the afternoon, and as they sailed away south, they made a beautiful marine picture.

The fort was often visited by officers from the war vessels which came into the harbor from the blockading fleet. I recall one in particular, Captain Worden, who fought the Monitor against the Merrimac, in Hampton Roads. His face showed the marks of powder from a shell that had exploded near the conning tower, which nearly blinded him. He was a great hero to us at that time, and later was made Rear Admiral.

We had many visitors also from the army, often accompanied by ladies. What with our garrison duties and the instruction received in artillery drill, we were enabled later to be of service in garrisoning one of the forts built for the defense of Newbern.

None of the soldiers of the company were seriously sick during the time. We began to think that we should remain there during our term of enlistment, but fate was against us, as we were ordered back to Newbern on April 9th, and were assigned to fort Spinola, on the banks of the Neuse river, about two miles out of the city.

This ends the company's service at Fort Macon.

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CAPTAIN Joseph Murdoch of this city died at his home in Roxbury, on the evening of the twenty-seventh of April, 1884, in the seventy-fourth year of his age.

It is not only a large circle of family friends and the larger circle of his old comrades in the army, who feel his loss and feel it keenly. His was one of those large and generous lives which render such service to all around that no one can willingly spare them. Captain Murdoch made himself the loved friend of every one with whom he had to do. And in the neighborhood in which he lived, in the church which he loved, in the associations of business, nay, even in casual acquaintanceships, or what would be such to other men, he had so endeared himself that there are hundreds of persons who in his death have lost something precious from their own daily lives and eagerly bring their sympathies to his family.

"If you want to know about him, ask the children." Such was a casual phrase, which a man might be proud to deserve as an epitaph, which gives some idea of the affection which surrounded him everywhere and which he well deserved.

He was born in Cuba on the fourth of July, 1810. His friends used to tell him that his birthday gave the omen of his unflinching patriotism and loyalty to the country of his fathers and his home. When a little boy he was sent with four brothers to Boston, that they might be educated as American citizens. The little fellow was placed first at the school, still well remembered, established by Mrs. Stearns at Medford. Afterward he had the inestimable advantage of Dr. Abbott's care in the Academy of Exeter. He did not enter college as had been at one time proposed, where he would have been the classmate of his friends Thomas G. Appleton and Wendell Phillips. His father's death made a change in his life plan, and he entered as clerk

[image: Capt. Joseph Murdoch, Co. G]

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into the well known house of Cunningham. It was while in their employ that he made voyages to India as supercargo.

He then passed into the employ of the firm of Reed, Chadwick and Dexter, where he remained for many years, up to the outbreak of the Civil War. He was a book-keeper with them, and in the wide business of that firm, made a world of friends who honored and loved him.

In 1844 he married Miss Caroline Dorcas Smith, of Boston, and in 1847 removed to Roxbury to live, where he has ever since made his home and where, as always, he became the attached and intimate friend of all who knew him. In friendly society, in the neighborhood and in the church one might almost say everyone knew him and relied upon him. If he made up his mind that any special case of suffering needed charitable relief, everyone who knew him accepted his decision as the best that could be made. He became fairly a minister-at-large in the number and the variety of his kindnesses to those in need, involving endless sacrifices of time, patience and means, sacrifices which he would never have called by that name, but considered services quite of course and belonging to the commonplace of life.

To such a man, in his fifty-second year, came the call of the country in the Civil War. At a public meeting one eager speaker said something, to which Murdoch responded: "Good!"

"You may say 'Good!' but are you going yourself?" retorted the other.

"To be sure I am," said Murdoch standing up.

And when an old cadet officer like him, who had passed what was called the limit of age, said this, it meant that hundreds of younger gentlemen would go where he led the way. He had long been well known in the Cadets, as ready for any duty of a soldier.

He was the senior captain in that admirable regiment, the 45th Massachusetts, with Colonel Codman, which was recruited and sent for service to North Carolina in 1862. At New Berne he was appointed, almost at once, as aide on the staff of General Amory, and it would be hard indeed to describe the variety into which such service ran. But it is a pleasure even

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now, to speak of the credit which such men as he brought on Boston in the rough and tumble of war. The true courage was not disturbed even by the fear of being called "Boston Goodys." Murdoch was a total abstainer by conviction. When there was so much danger of intemperance, his convictions were stronger than ever.

"But no one can drink this water; it will kill you if you do not mix whiskey with it."

To which Murdoch said he came to die for his country if it were necessary, and he might as well die of cold water as by any other death.

Such men did good, not to be measured, in keeping up the respect due to the staff of a commander.

He received a slight wound on the expedition to Dover Cross Roads; at one time he was reported "killed." But he returned to us well enough for another generation to know well that soldierly and athletic form, and for this generation of children to delight in his tendernesses.

Some men and some women will not understand or believe it, but it would be fair to say that he never went down town in the morning without turning over in his mind the condition and needs of a hundred people, to whom he had at one time or another been counsellor and friend, to ask himself whether they needed his help that day, and how he was to braid in with his, the thread of such lives. In the death of such a man we are thrown back to look on sixty years of unselfish loyal life for the good of others and of the community.

Such men are the salt that save the world.

[image: Samuel B. Shapleigh, Co. A]

[image: (battle scene]

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WE had but fairly settled down after the Goldsboro expedition to the daily routine of drills and dress parade and recovered our wonted elasticity of body, when "orders" were read on January 14th for the regiment to be ready to move in "light marching order," within twenty-four hours. Seven days' rations were served out, five to be carried in our haversacks and two in the wagons. Our knapsacks were packed and left in charge of the invalid squad. At five o'clock the next morning "reveille" was beat. At six o'clock it was raining hard. In obedience to orders from Brigade Headquarters, Colonel Codman sent the regiment back to quarters to hold themselves in readiness to move at eleven o'clock, but as the storm still continued the regiment was dismissed indefinitely.

On the 17th the morning dawned clear and cold, and at eight o'clock we formed our regimental line and numbered four hundred and ninety-three men. The force of the expedition consisted of the First Brigade, First Division, Eighteenth Army Corps, a squadron of cavalry, a small howitzer and a section of artillery, under command of Colonel Amory, our brigade commander.

At nine o'clock we were on the march. Company B, under command of Major Sturgis, acted as skirmishers. The roads were in good condition. The first place of interest was the block-house at Brice's Ferry.

It had a charming location, with a beautiful pine grove (formerly a rebel encampment) on one side, and the river Trent on the other, and commanded the bridge across the river. The little picket garrison was drawn up in line as we passed. We crossed the bridge and followed the river road for a few miles. In the afternoon we halted at Jonesville, near an academy. As the school was not in session we entered the building and gratuitously

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distributed copies of the circular issued by the Principal in which he stated, "He does not intend to make money in these troublous times, and will therefore educate, free of charge, the children of those who are in the service of their country." At sunset we reached Pollocksville, twelve miles from New Berne, a small village of half a dozen houses, but a well-known guerilla haunt. The houses were deserted. We helped ourselves to whatever they contained and a number of us secured a lot of straw for bedding and were able to enjoy a comfortable night's rest. We were early on the march the next day and started for Trenton, We were delayed some time by obstacles in the shape of felled trees across the road, but the roads were good, and the march that day was one of the pleasantest in all our army experience, and we passed some fine Southern residences, and one plantation which was reported to have furnished some incidents narrated in "Uncle Tom's Cabin." For a long distance the road skirted a cypress swamp. These North Carolina swamps have one feature unlike the swamps in the North. The trees rise tall and stately out of the still water, their branches festooned with long gray moss, which sways back and forth with every breath of wind, giving them a weird and mournful appearance.

We entered Trenton that afternoon at two o'clock without opposition, a small force of the enemy retiring in hot haste, on the approach of our cavalry. The situation of the town is very pleasant, but it was a dilapidated, dirty place There was quite a large detail from our regiment for "picket duty" that night. Near our reserve station for the night was a negro cabin and some of us hired the old "Aunty" to make us a "hoecake." While waiting we asked the "old man" where his master was. He said he had gone "up country." We asked him why he didn't run away now that he had a chance, and follow our troops into New Berne. He said he wanted his freedom, but he wanted to go "clar," meaning that he wanted to take his whole family with him, four of his children were at home, but he had five still in slavery. At midnight we went out to the outer picket station. It was a piercing cold night, and although wrapped in woolen and rubber blankets, and moving lively up

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and down our beats it was impossible to keep warm, and we were chilled through and through. The cavalry was scouting all night and learned that the Confederates had burned a bridge across the Trent, about eight miles further up the road, and this appeared to be the object of our expedition. Just before leaving Trenton, the next morning, we set fire to a pile of lumber that the enemy might not make use of it in rebuilding bridges. In the yard were the stocks and whipping posts. On the edge of the town was a saw and grist mill and a lumber yard. The planks and boards our pioneers cut up and threw into the mill and this was also consigned to the flames. At the same time some one let on the water and the groan of the machinery rose above the flames. We returned to Pollocksville and encamped on our old bivouac of Saturday night. The next morning, when we broke camp, it was raining hard. We reversed arms and were reminded of Cromwell's veterans, who were told to "keep their powder dry."

Eight miles through a drenching rain brought us to Young's Cross Roads, where the cavalry had captured a Confederate army wagon and a few prisoners. We filed into an open field, stacked arms, and prepared to camp. Hungry, wet and tired we sat on our luggage, and tried to satisfy our appetites with raw salt pork and "hard tack." In the afternoon the clouds broke, the sun shone out and we busied ourselves in making shelters for the night.

We made A tents of our rubber blankets, resting them on forked sticks and cross pieces, and filled the sides and one end with spruce twigs. Then we statred off to forage. Two miles up the road was a house where some of our men had discovered honey, and in a wagon on the road was a lot of sweet potatoes. It was a case of "first come, first served." The cavalry was galloping up and down the road, full of mischief. Captain Denny's darkey was marching along with a frying pan balanced on his head, when a cavalryman grabbed it and made off with it much to the darkey's astonishment.

At sunset it commenced to rain hard and so continued through the night. Some of the boys were washed out, but most

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of the little A tents protected the inmates fairly well. The boys on picket had a hard time of it, standing up to their knees in mud and water.

The cavalry rode thirty miles that night, going as far as Onslow Court House, further progress being stopped by the burning of a bridge there. They were followed by a long procession of contrabands. They met a small force of the enemy whom they drove back with a few shots from their howitzer.

Our return march to New Berne was in the midst of a drizzling rain, and through the sticky Southern mud or red clay, of unknown depth. We rushed along as if our lives were at stake, making but few halts, and those of short duration.

It was a hard day, but we had lots of fun, and at sunset we entered camp, bespattered with mud, having marched that day nineteen miles, which Surgeon Kneeland was reported to have said was equal to thirty miles over good roads.

[image: Charles H. Leonard, Co. A]

[image: New Berne, N.C., Bridge Over The Trent]

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ON Monday, January 26th, the Forty-Fifth Massachusetts Regiment left Camp Amory on the Trent, and began its service as provost guard in the town of New Berne. On leaving camp we crossed the old Beaufort road--leading from the County Bridge (near our camp), over the plain across the railroad and on down through the woods past the battlefield of March 14th, 1862. No fences remained and there was only a hint at a stone wall, with a string of scrub oaks to mark the sandy way. The plain which we first pass is where we learned "battalion drill." The town lies two miles away in a northwesterly direction. On our left flows the river Trent, with a current that changes with the tide, now up stream and now down.

On our right are the humble homes of our colored people, the refugees who have come into the Union lines. A little farther on is the large camp, or settlement of the freedmen, freedmen now, not contrabands, as the Emancipation Proclamation went into effect the first of January. Their rough-log huts generally have but one room, with the usual "stick and clay" chimney and fireplace at the gable end. Many of the able-bodied among them have found opportunity to labor in the Government employ, yet the conditions of life among them are such as to touch one's heart, for the helpless creatures are "as sheep having no shepherd," and in that passing hour was born the resolve to do something to make their freedom indeed a boon to these freedmen.

The road and railroad gradually converge and meet at the trestle railroad bridge across the Trent that brings us to the town. Here we imagine ourselves in the place of our victorious army after the long, hard march, and the desperate battle of New Berne in their close pursuit of the flying rebels in the early afternoon of Friday, March 14th, 1862. On the Sunday previous,

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the little Monitor had beaten the rebel ironclad Merrimac in Hampton Roads, and now another victory had been obtained that put the Union forces in possession of the second largest town in North Carolina, with complete control of its inland navigable waters. In recognition of his two victories of Roanake Island and New Berne, General Burnside received his commission as major-general, and Generals Foster, Reno and Parke were commissioned as brigadier-generals, and brevetted as major-generals. Fort Macon surrendered April 26th, 1862.

Our march thus far had been a gala procession, with the band playing, and colors proudly waving. Our regiment had three flags--"Old Glory," the State flag, and the Regimental colors, presented to us by the ladies at Readville and inscribed "In God we trust." This flag is now carefully preserved in the cadet's armory in Boston. We imagine that we have acquired something of the steady solid tread of veterans, but at the bridge, which is built of trestle work and none too solid construction, we take "route step" and walk carefully. As the bridge was used for general business, as well as for the passage of railroad trains, the space between the rails was planked over, and this was on a level and not separated from the general roadway. But for this space, there would hardly be room for the wide teams to pass each other.

We entered the town of New Berne by what is sometimes called "Railroad Street" and sometimes "Hancock Street," that runs in a northerly direction nearly across the peninsula on which the city is built at the junction of the Trent with the Neuse.

We marched up this street in our best and steadiest style, for the Forty Fifth came to its service as provost guard with a reputation to sustain of military precision and discipline. Just below Craven Street the Forty-Fifth is received in due form by the Seventeenth, who terminate their brief service as provost guard, which began on the 22nd of December, the day after we, and they, returned from the Goldsboro expedition.

The duties of a provost guard are to preserve order in the town; see that no enlisted man passes unless provided with a

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written permission suitably signed, endorsed and dated; prevent fast riding or driving through the streets; to act as guards at the railway station and the wharves, and to do anything and everything required of them of a similar nature.

Our regimental headquarters were on the east side of Craven Street, halfway between South Front and Pollock Streets in a three-story brick house, with one room and doorway on the street. Colonel Codman said it belonged to a family of aged maiden ladies, who fled when the city was taken, and left behind them quite a fine library of old English books, most of them being of Queen Anne's or earlier date, 1714.

The city was divided into three districts. The first was in the south-eastern part of the town, embracing the business quarter, its headquarters being the provost marshal's office, at the head of Market Wharf, on the river front in a large brick building, at the south-east corner of Pollock and East Front Streets. Here was the guard house, where those who had been arrested were held until their examination, when they were either sentenced or acquitted. This place corresponded to police headquarters in civil life. The second district comprised the northern part of the city, with its headquarters in the old office of the Atlantic and North Carolina Railroad Company--part of the furniture, including desk and safe, still remaining there. General Foster's headquarters were in this district, also the house where his family resided and these were under the special care of the guard. The third district covered the remainder of the town, and was the least important of them all.

The guard was divided into three reliefs. The first being on duty from 9 to 1; the second from 1 to 5, and the third from 5 to 9; each relief going on twice in the twenty-four hours. "Guard mounting" took place every morning at eight o'clock, but it was ten o'clock before the old guard was relieved and returned to quarters. Each day's detail called for one captain, three lieutenants, three sergeants, ten corporals and one hundred and ninety-seven privates.

At first it was a pleasant change from camp life, as there was a certain freedom about it, but after a while we found it a very

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arduous duty, for the large number of our regiment on detached service, required us to go on guard every other day, with an occasional interval of two days. The officers, commissioned and non-commissioned, had a comparatively easy time.

There was quite a difference in the sentry stations, and we soon learned the excellent points of each. Some were under cover, and some were not needed at night. On this post, a kindly neighbor would furnish a breakfast to the tired and hungry sentry, and on another, the guard was sure of a good dinner, while many others were wholly undesirable. Four times a week, when the weather permitted (and the days were rare when it did not permit) the colonel indulged us in the luxury of brigade drill. As I have said, we were not relieved from duty and back in quarters before ten o'clock.

Immediately after dinner in Company A's quarters, the clear voice of Orderly-Sergeant Barstow rang out, "Fall in for brigade drill, blouses and caps!" Then our regimental line was formed on Broad Street, and we marched a long two miles over the bridge to the plain near our old quarters on the Trent. Here we were joined by the other regiments of our brigade, the Seventeenth, the Forty-Third and Fifty-First Massachusetts, and were maneuvered for two hours by acting Brigadier-General Amory. Many of the orders became as familiar as household words. Twice a week we had battalion drill, but all this drill was not thrown away. For accuracy and quickness of movement, the Forty-Fifth stood in the very front rank among the regiments in the department and acquired quite a reputation for the excellence of its dress parades. While at Camps Amory and Massachusetts, visitors came regularly to witness them. Our band was no doubt a great part of the attraction, as there was no band attached to the other regiments, which did provost duty for the six months previous.

The Boston Brigade Band, which was attached to the Twenty-Third Massachusetts Regiment was mustered out of the service August 30, 1862 by order of the General Government, as were nearly all the bands of the army. Concerts by our band at Major-General Foster's headquarters were of frequent occurrence.

[image: Capt. Nathaniel Willis Bumstead, Company D]

[image: Company D's Quarters At New Berne While Doing Provost Duty]

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The band also had many requisitions to play on social occasions, all out of the line of regular duty, which service they cheerfully performed. They played quite often on the grounds of the Foster Hospital, and sometimes at military funerals, one such occasion was the funeral of comrade George Brooks of Company A; another was on May 26th, when the regiment performed escort duty, as the remains of Colonel Jones, the gallant commander of the Fifty-Eighth Pennsylvania Regiment, killed by guerillas, were carried to the steamer from the train that brought him down from the camp at Batchelder's Creek. The members of the band were organized as an ambulance corps, under the instruction of a regular army officer, and had daily drills near the outposts of the town, and learned how to give the first aid to the wounded.

The companies of the regiment were quartered in houses in different parts of the town.

Company A was in a two-story frame house on Pollock Street, not far from the provost marshal's office. The name Pierce was on the front door. The house still belongs to the same family, and the same old doorplate is on the front door.

Company B was on the south-east corner of Johnson and Craven Streets.

Company C was on the south side of East Front Street.

Company D was on the north side of Pollock Street and opposite Company K.

Company E was quartered in a two-story brick house near Middle Street in the same block with Company B.

Company F was on Union Street, west of department head-quarters

Company H was quartered in a pleasant house on the north side of Broad Street, exactly opposite the colonel's station on dress parade.

Company K was on Pollock Street, and next door but one west of Company A's quarters.

The band was quartered in a wooden house on the west side of East Front Street, opposite the provost guard, first station. If I recollect rightly, the chaplain's quarters were on Broad Street,

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opposite the parade. We had occasion to remember the choice selection of books he had for a free circulating library.

It may be of interest to give here the location of certain officers while we were doing provost duty.

The headquarters of the Eighteenth Army Corps was on Union Street, in Mr. Stover's house.

The private residence of Major-General Foster was on South Street in Mrs. Smallwood's house.

The general's staff was quartered on Union Street in Dr. Duffy's house.

The private residence of Captain Messenger, Provost Marshal, was on the corner of Short and Front Streets, house formerly occupied by the Confederate General L. O. Branch.

The provost marshal's office was on Front Street.

The office of the chief quartermaster, Lieutenant-Colonel Biggs, was on Pollock Street.

Brigadier-General Leddie, chief of artillery, was located on Broad Street.

Brigadier-General Stevenson, on the corner of Queen and Graves Streets.

Brigadier-General Lee, on Johnston Street.

Brigadier-General Spinola, on Pollock Street.

Colonel Amory, on Pollock Street, in Ed. R. Stanley's house.

Brigadier-Generals Prince and Hunt were located on Broad Street.

Major Stackpole, Judge Advocate-General's headquarters, on Broad Street.

The Academy Green Hospital was on New Street.

The Convent of Mercy was on Middle Street, formerly Burnside's headquarters. It was built by Governor Stanley's father, and at one time was Washington's headquarters in the Revolutionary War.

Governor Stanley's house was on Front Street and his office on New Street.

The house of Webb, the slave trader, was on Middle Street.

The Pollock Jail, for State prisoners, was on Eden Street.

[image: Rear Of Company A's Quarters In New Berne While Doing Provost Duty]

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The Gaston house, on East Front Street and the Cemetery corner of Queen and George Streets. On the Fair grounds were the camps of the Twenty-Fourth and Forty-Fourth Massachusetts Regiments and the Tenth Connecticut and Fifth Rhode Island. Christ Church (Episcopal) was on Pollock Street.

The members of Company A distinctly remember the morning and evening roll-calls, when after Orderly-Sergeant Barstow ran down the alphabetically arranged list of our names to be accounted for, the sunny tempered and true-hearted Lieutenant Pond read the portion of scripture and prayer for the day. This service in Company A continued from the day we went to Readville and through the period at Camp Amory, and until we went into tents at Camp Massachusetts, and this service had a lasting influence on our lives. Many of us answer no more at roll-call, and some of us may fail, but let us heed the warning of the prayer that we be ready for that "great roll-call" on the other side.

On Sundays a male quartette sang at the services in the Episcopal Church, and Myron W. Whitney of the band and William H. Becket, of Company A were both members. These two comrades in later years achieved great fame as public singers. The quartette also sang at the First Presbyterian Church, where Chaplain A. L. Stone regularly preached and to which the regiment marched every Sunday to the music of our full band.

While the regiment was doing provost duty, we had many visitors from the North, who had friends and relatives in the regiment, among others, Rev. Dr. Samuel K. Lothrop, Mrs. O. W. Peabody, Mr. Charles Hickling, Mr. George W. Bond, Mr. Thomas B. Wales, Jr., Rev. Mr. Barnard and Mr. John L. Emmons, as also the father of comrade Mann.

On Washington's Birthday a salute of one hundred and thirty-one guns was fired at noon. There was a parade of the fire department, the machines being gaily decorated with flowers and streamers

Deserters occasionally came in from the enemy's lines, who reported matters as desperate with the confederates. The ration of meat had been reduced from one pound to a quarter of a

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pound. Flour was $40 a barrel, in confederate money, and corn $6 a bushel. If the United States Government maintained a rigid blockade for four months, the confederates would be starved out.

A novel and interesting service to us Northern boys was that held in the Contraband Methodist Church. A comrade speaking in regard to it, says, "One Sunday evening while patrolling the streets with Corporal Lippincott of Company D, we dropped into this church for a few minutes and found it crowded. The galleries reserved for visitors were filled, principally by soldiers drawn thither by curiosity. The body of the church was filled by colored people, the men on one side of the aisle and the women on the other. They were of all shades of color from light yellow to inky black. The leader, an intelligent looking colored man, occupied a chair in front of the pulpit and commenced the service by reciting a line from a hymn, which was sung by the congregation; then another line, and so on until several verses had been sung. Our expectations regarding the beautiful singing of the colored people were dashed to the ground. The tunes were screamed forth from the cracked throats of the old and the shrill voices of the young, all singing the air and all pitched in a different key. There was no harmony, only a babel of sound. The singing was followed by prayer by the leader, whose voice was frequently drowned by the vigorous groans of his auditors. Occasionally his voice was raised to a shout and could be heard above the general din. By this time his congregation was worked up to a high pitch of excitement and some of the women threw their bonnets and shawls on the pulpit stairs and went through the audience addressing a word here and there, enforcing the preacher's remarks. Some of the young girls were wrought up to a state of frenzy, and began to shriek at the top of their voices and finally went into hysterics."

As the season advanced the weather became very delightful; the buds began to swell, the flowers to blossom forth, and all around our quarters (Company A) was a beautiful garden. We had rose trees, violets and other plants too numerous to mention. The air was filled with fragrance of apple, pear and

[image: Map Of Town Of Berne. Arranged From Plan Compiled By Solon M. Allis, 27th Mass. April, 1864. By J. B. Gardner, 44th. Mass. Dec 1885]

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peach blossoms, and every morning the mocking birds and the robins delighted us with their sweet notes. Our letters to our relatives and friends contained little mementos of pressed flowers, which assured them in their cold Northern homes, that we were enjoying summer weather. The cavalry were kept busy in these days scouting, for the woods and swamps just outside the city swarmed with guerillas. The cavalrymen hated them cordially, and were disposed to show them but little mercy. The camp guard of the Ninety-Second New York on the other side of the Neuse was frequently fired upon on dark and foggy nights, by these guerillas. They dressed in citizen's clothes, and shot our men in cold blood, whenever opportunity offered. When they saw a considerable body of our men approaching, they were unionists, neutrals, or "know nothings," as they chose. One scouting party went up as far as Matirmeskut Lake in Hyde County. The day they arrived there, they had a skirmish with a band of guerillas, and it is said killed ten of them. The captain of the guerilla band sent a challenge to the officer of the scouting party to fight him the next day, giving him the choice of place. The Union officer replied that he should fight him whenever and wherever he found him.

The next day as the Union troops were riding through the woods, a cavalryman happened to espy a guerilla behind a tree, taking aim at some one. The cavalryman fired at him, and this was the signal for the fight to begin. The rebels fired a volley. To dislodge them was difficult, for there was a deep and wide ditch on either side of the road, which our men must cross in the face of rebel bullets. The little howitzer was ordered up, and a hot fire of grape and canister poured into the woods, causing the rebels to flee in hot haste, and thus the trap to catch and massacre our troops was avoided. In this skirmish four non-commissioned officers were killed, and thirteen men wounded. A number of prisoners were taken, and we saw them as they passed through New Berne on their way to jail. Some of them were recognized as having been in the city only a few days previous and as trading under a permit from Governor Stanley. One prisoner was marched through the city with a woman's skirt on,

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and on his back a placard with the words, "guerilla caught dressed in woman's clothes, with a protection in his pocket from Governor Stanley." The cavalrymen asserted that he had a commission from Jeff Davis in the other pocket.

It was while we were doing provost duty in New Berne that the rebels laid siege to Little Washington, about thirty miles by land, north of New Berne. The garrison was small there, consisting of eight companies of the Twenty-Seventh Massachusetts, one company First North Carolina, one company Third New York Cavalry and Battery G, Third New York Artillery, about six hundred men in all. They were reinforced by a portion of the Forty-Fourth Massachusetts, and the arming of a force of negroes by Colonel Lee, raising the number of troops to nearly one thousand two hundred. They had been there but a few days when they learned from deserters that the rebel general Roger A. Pryor's brigade was within twenty miles of the town, and would probably make an attack.

On the 30th of March General Foster and his staff arrived from Plymouth, and the effect of his presence was at once manifest in an increased activity. A reconnoisance of Companies A and G of the Forty-Fourth Massachusetts discovered the enemy in force. They seized Rodman's Point, set up a battery of English Whitworth guns, and began sending their projectiles into the Union lines. The next day General Hill, commanding the rebel force, ordered an assault on our works, but learning their strength the order was countermanded. Hill summoned them to surrender, allowing twenty-four hours to remove the women and children. General Foster replied, "Go back and tell them, if they want Little Washington to come and take it." Then commenced the siege. "The town was completely invested and all communication with our forces outside had to be held by running the blockade in sail boats and lighters. The investing force consisted of nearly fifteen thousand men, and included three regiments of cavalry and forty guns. Ammunition and food were scarce in the Union lines, and the enemy relied on starving us out, meantime causing great annoyance with his artillery. A force of five thousand men left New Berne

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under command of General Spinola to relieve the besieged troops, but failed." General Foster then determined to run the blockade, and taking with him his Assistant Adjutant-General, Colonel Southard Hoffman, and others of his staff, he embarked on the little steamer Escort. As the steamer neared Rodman's Point, in possession of the enemy, the batteries opened upon her, and as she approached the shore, she came under a heavy musketry fire, but the boat kept right on; she was struck by eighteen shot and shell; her upper works were literally riddled with bullets. The pilot house was walled around with bales of hay, but notwithstanding this precaution, the pilot, Mr. Petherick, was killed at his post of duty. One shot went through the galley, and took off an arm of the cook, another shot passed through General Foster's stateroom shortly after he had left it, and tore the bed to pieces. Had a shot struck the machinery, the boat would have been destroyed or captured.

Nothing but the urgent need of General Foster's presence in New Berne caused him to take such an extreme risk. Acting with his usual energy and promptness, he hurried troops forward by land and by water, returned in the steamer Escort, and in a week the siege was raised and the enemy had disappeared. Captain Denny in "Wearing the Blue," says, "When it is considered that the defence of this line was made against fourteen thousand Confederate troops under skilled commanders, we do not hesitate to say that the defence against such odds rises to the pitch of heroic grandeur, equalled during the war only by Mulligan's glorious defence of Lexington, Missouri, in the autumn of 1861." Our comrades of the Forty-Fourth Massachusetts, according to General Foster's order, exhibited great "steadiness, courage and endurance," under the most trying circumstances, and well merited the honor of inscribing on their banner, "Washington, April, 1863."

Our pleasant stay in New Berne at last came to an end. Our comfortable quarters, our gardens and flowers were resigned in favor of the Forty-Fourth Massachusetts Regiment, as a reward of their gallant services at Little Washington. On the 23rd of April the following order was read on "dress parade":

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Headquarters, Department of North Carolina, Eighteenth Army Corps, New Berne, April 23, 1863.

Special Order No. 117:

In accordance with the custom of the department, the regiment now doing provost duty will be relieved. The commanding general in changing the guard of the town desires to convey to Colonel Codman, and through him to his officers and men, his high appreciation of the manner in which the duties of the guard have been performed. He has noticed with great pleasure the drill, discipline and general efficiency of the regiment. The Forty-Fourth Regiment, M. V. M. will relieve the Forty-Fifth on Saturday, the 25th instant, at 9 A. M.

By command of Major-General Foster.

Southard Hoffman, Assistant Adjutant-General.

The 25th of April was a warm and pleasant day, when we took up our line of march for Camp Massachusetts near Fort Spinola. At "guard mounting" the citizens of New Berne sent the following vote of thanks to our regiment for the manner in which it had discharged its duties as provost guard.

New Berne, N. C., April 25, 1863.

Colonel C. R. Codman, Officers and Men of the Forty-Fifth M. V. M.

Gentlemen:

Having learned with regret that your regiment is about to retire from the duty of guarding the city, I beg leave on behalf of all loyal citizens, myself, my family, and other families here, to render you our sincere thanks for the efficiency and courtesy with which you have discharged your duties.

It has seldom been our lot to see a body of soldiers, so uniformly civil and gentlemanly in their behavior, temperate and orderly in their habits, comparatively free from the vice of profanity, and so prompt in restraining those, who, by any violence, would attempt to disturb our streets.

Accept, gentlemen, our thanks for past kindness, and wishes for your future welfare.

W. H. Doherty, A. M. Principal of New Berne Academy.

As we were leaving the city, General Foster rode down our line and complimented Colonel Codman on the fine appearance of his men.

[image: Ann Street, Beaufort, N.C.]

[image: A. G. R. Hale, Co. A]

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WHILE the Independent Corps of Cadets was the nucleus of our Regiment and furnished Colonel Codman and nearly all of the field, staff and line officers, it was Park Street Church that gave us our chaplain, the Rev. Andrew L. Stone, who had served that church as its pastor since 1849, and during that period had won a high reputation as a preacher, a lecturer and a bold and fearless reformer

In 1854, three thousand ministers of New England, including Rev. A. L. Stone, signed a petition and sent it to Congress by Senator Edward Everett of Massachusetts to be presented to that body, remonstrating against the passage of the Kansas and Nebraska Bill, which had for its object the organization of a territorial government for Kansas,--the Repeal of the Missouri Compromise Measure, and the removal of the restriction as to slavery entering the North West Territory as provided for in the celebrated Ordinance of 1787. But notwithstanding the numerous petitions against the bill becoming a law from all over the Northern States, yet after many exciting debates in both branches of Congress, the bill was passed and signed by the President, Franklin Pierce.

The effect of this new law was to take away from Congress, the power to determine when a new state was admitted into the Federal Union, whether it should be a free or a slave state. This power was transferred to the Territory under the guise of "Popular Sovereignty," so that the Territory itself determined whether it should become a free or a slave state. Immediately following the passage of the bill there was a fierce and sanguinary struggle in Kansas between the friends of Freedom and of Slavery, which continued many years. Late in the spring of

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1856 Senator Sumner of Massachusetts, delivered a great speech in the United States Senate, the subject being, "The Crimes against Kansas." In that speech he criticised the leading champions of slavery in the Senate, among whom was Senator Butler of South Carolina. Soon after the delivery of the speech and during a recess of the Senate, while Mr. Sumner sat at his desk writing, a nephew of the Senator and a member of the House of Representatives, from South Carolina, Preston S. Brooks, resenting what Mr. Summer had said about his uncle, stealthily approached Mr. Sumner from behind, and struck him blow after blow upon his head and back with a stiletto cane, until Mr. Sumner was rescued by his friends and borne in an unconscious condition to his lodgings.

That dastardly act was emphatically denounced all over the North by press and pulpit, and at great mass meetings.

I remember such a meeting in Worcester shortly after the occurrence, while old Massachusetts was trembling with excitement, that Senator Wilson, Mr. Sumner's associate was present, and made an earnest and impressive speech in regard to this outrageous attack of Brooks upon his colleague, and among other things, he said, "When I removed the blood stained clothing from that wounded Senator, I resolved, then and there, that when I next entered the Senate Chamber, I would brand that deed of Brooks as brutal, murderous and cowardly."

In Boston, no preacher in the city spoke stronger words of condemnation of that brutal assault on Free Speech than did Rev. A. L. Stone, in his sermon in reference to it. He took for his text the words recorded in Acts, describing the assault upon the Apostle Paul by the Jews at Lystra, namely, "And having stoned Paul, they drew him out of the city, supposing he was dead." I quote the following from a Boston paper which was published at the time Dr. Stone's farewell sermon was delivered at Park Street, when he accepted the call to the First Congregational Church at San Francisco, California. "Dr. Stone early took in this city a bold stand as a Reformer in the days when it cost something to attack slavery and public wrong. And throughout all the years in which the hurricane which has swept the land was gathering,

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and while it howled around us, in the very wrath and agony of civil war, the Park Street pulpit has calmly maintained one clear, bold, decided heroic position of fidelity to the higher laws of God and humanity. Dr. Stone's name will ever hold an honored place upon the glorious list of those pastors of New England, who said to their young men, "Go with me into this great fight for the dear life of the nation."

After Lincoln's inauguration as President, the South began to show unmistakable signs of their intention to carry into effect their threats to secede from the Union. To maintain the integrity of the nation and overcome the growing rebellion in the Southern States, President Lincoln repeatedly called for troops, which were furnished. In the summer of 1862, another call was issued by the President, and in response to that call, the Forty-Fifth Massachusetts Regiment was formed, which joined in the chorus with the thousands of other Union Defenders, "We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more."

I have already spoken of Dr. Stone, who consented to serve the Regiment as its chaplain, as a reformer, and from the same Boston paper will quote in part, what it said of him as a preacher. "When Dr. Stone came to Park Street it was a 'half empty sanctuary' but after he began to preach, it became sprinkled then darkened, then thronged with eager listeners, until the astonished and delighted parish were compelled to order a cord or two of camp stools for use on occasions of special service. The same dense throng could be seen during the last year of his service at that church. No man in this country except Henry Ward Beecher has preached to as many people in the last fifteen years as Andrew L. Stone, and it is safe to say that no man has more faithfully used the great trust of such a popularity. It is very certain that there have been many periods of extraordinary spiritual activity in connection with his labors, while it lies upon the face of the statistics of the church, that no New England church has acquired so large a membership or one whose increment has been more traceable to the fervor and fidelity of private personal labor, as well as the appropriateness of public appeal. Dr. Stone has a strength of reasoning which, however veiled and festooned

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by the flowers of fancy, makes resistless appeal, through and by the very aid of the fancy, to the reason, as well as to the conscience; and a perennial richness and freshness of conception and illustration which throw the oldest and most threadbare topic out into newness of life under the charm of its wonderful treatment. In one respect, at least, Dr. Stone resembles the late Rufus Choate, and that is, in so concealing the remorseless syllogism under the gay drapery of imagination, that its irresistible work is so done as scarcely to seem done at all, and even to lead to the suspicion in hasty minds, that there is no syllogism there. As a journal having no sectarian bias, we have spoken strongly of our distinguished fellow citizen who is about to leave us for the shores of the Pacific, and who, while among us has been prominently identified with the so-called Orthodox faith. But while 'Orthodox' to the back-bone, Dr. Stone has ever seemed to us to be a man of marked catholicity of spirit."

It certainly was a great privilege for the soldiers of the Forty-Fifth to have for our chaplain a man of this description in that great conflict, to cheer, to counsel, to comfort and console us in the varying conditions and moods incident to war. Chaplain Stone showed a wonderful adaptability for those things. I remember the first sermon I heard him preach at Camp Amory on the Trent. He took for his text these words: "He shall bring them to their desired haven." He spoke of the dangers that threatened us on our voyage to Beaufort, viz.: the filthy condition of our vessels crowded with men, confined as some of them were in the hold of the vessels, on account of the stormy weather, supplied with little air, narrowly escaping an epidemic, the danger too, from the rebel war vessel, the Alabama, making an attack on us. But notwithstanding these dangers God brought us in safety to our desired haven. The lesson to be learned from this discourse was enforced by the chaplain in his own inimitable way. He was always brief, never wearisome, rarely occupying more than twenty minutes in the delivery of his sermon. He had a fine presence, a wonderful voice, and great ease in his delivery. As I did not keep notes of the chaplain's sermons, writing simply from memory, I have had access to a diary kept by a well-known comrade from which I make some extracts.

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"January 14, 1863.--At three o'clock in the afternoon we fell in for Divine Services conducted on our parade ground (Camp Amory) by Chaplain Stone. Text Psalms 11 : 12: "I will pay unto the Lord my vows." Said the chaplain, "It is recorded especially of David that he made this declaration. It was very common with men in times of peril and extremity to make some vow or covenant with God, that if life was spared it should henceforth be devoted to his service. Many of you have but lately come from the sulphurous smoke of battle. Did you not then make a covenant with God, that if he would spare your life it should be consecrated to him? Perhaps you may not have feared death, but the thought of loved ones at home, mother, sister, and wife did not they plead with you, and you may have asked for life for their sakes? Men wonder not that one who has risen from a severe and almost fatal sickness should be marked by a deep seriousness. So your fellow-men would say of you, "He has been in battle, he stood face to face with death." He closed with an earnest appeal to his hearers to pay unto the Lord their vows.

February 15, 1863.--This afternoon the regiment with guns and equipments formed into line, and headed by the band, marched to the Presbyterian Church. (The regiment was at this time doing Provost Duty in New Berne.) Rev. Dr. Lothrop of the Brattle Square Church of Boston, who is visiting in New Berne, conducted the services. He preached a very patriotic discourse and in conclusion spoke of the good name the regiment enjoyed. He also referred in a very tender manner to our late comrade Elbridge Graves of Company A., who received his death wound in the battle of Kinston, and stated that he attended the funeral services at Newburyport, Mass.

March 8, 1863.--Attended the Episcopal Church this forenoon, Major Russell Sturgis read the prayers. The sermon was by an old gentleman whose name I did not ascertain. In the afternoon the regiment marched to church, the band playing a very lively tune. It is certainly a very uncomfortable way of attending church to have to care for gun, cartridge-box, bayonet and scabbard throughout the entire service We would prefer

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to go in the simple New England fashion. Our style reminds us of our Pilgrim Fathers who carried their weapons of war to the Meeting-house, as a necessity, but with our pickets out for miles and guards stationed all over the city, we fail in our case to see the necessity. The Presbyterian Church which we attend is quite an old building but in very good repair and in a fine central location. Marble tablets eulogizing the virtues of departed members adorn the walls.

In addition to the different sermons already enumerated during our service, I recall to mind a most excellent one preached from the words of Paul to Timothy, "Thou, therefore, endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ." But the most eloquent and effective sermon, I think, that I heard Chaplain Stone deliver was the one immediately after the regiment had been baptised by fire in the battles of Kinston and Whitehall, the chaplain taking for his text the words of Christ in reply to Pilate, the latter asserting that he had power to release, or to crucify him, namely: "Thou couldst have no power at all except it be given thee." The chaplain then told of three occasions when that text gave him relief and comfort.

Once, when on a voyage to the East, there arose a severe tempest and the waves tossed the vessel as though it was a mere egg shell, and fear came to his heart as he thought to himself that there was, as it were, only a plank between him and the angry waves beneath, then these words of Christ came to his mind and the fear was gone, and he could say to the winds and the waves, "Thou couldst do nothing at all except it were given to thee from above."

The second time those words brought relief was when traveling with a party in Syria, they encountered a simoon, and fear of death disturbed their minds.

And the last time was during the battle of Kinston in which our regiment was engaged. While the shot and shell and other deadly missiles filled the air he was engaged in caring for the wounded and the dying and the thought entered his mind, what if one of those missiles of death should strike him, and fear came to him for a moment, but those words of Christ came again to

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his relief and fear was gone and he could say to the shot and shell, "Thou coulds't do nothing at all except it were given to thee from above." "And if death comes while doing my duty it is all right for I would fall at my post."

The gallant Color-Sergeant of the regiment, Theodore Parkman, had been struck on the head in the battle of Whitehall, by a fragment of a shell and soon died. Our chaplain was by his side speaking words of comfort and sympathy as his life ebbed away, and at the Sunday evening prayer meeting, led as usual by the chaplain, he told of the last hours of suffering of this man. He bore his sufferings heroically and was submissive to whatever lot awaited him, come life, or come death.

Beside the regular Sunday evening meeting led by the chaplain there was a Friday evening prayer meeting maintained by the regiment, and often conducted by Major Russell Sturgis, Jr., a former President of the Young Men's Christian Association of Boston.

While so many spiritual helps and advantages were accessible to the regiment, the chaplain through his friends in Boston, had provided a large circulating library for the use of the members of the regiment to occupy their time and attention while off duty, and thus guarding their minds against the many temptations which beset a soldier when in camp and not on active service.

On January 25, 1863, the regiment was transferred from Camp Amory to the city of New Berne to do provost duty, relieving the Seventeenth Massachusetts Regiment which had been performing that service since the Goldsboro march. Gross ignorance prevailed in that city among the colored population, and also among a large section of the whites, for the "Elite" of the city had temporarily moved away, so that missionary work in addition to the usual duties of the soldier, was to characterize the labors of many individual members of the Forty-Fifth.

The Emancipation Proclamation of President Lincoln giving freedom to three millions of slaves in the Southern States had already been published to the world.

Stanley, who had been appointed Governor of North Carolina,

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and who had closed the negro schools, had been removed, and another Governor appointed who permitted the teaching of the colored youth.

On the arrival of Mrs. Stone, the wife of our chaplain, a day school for colored children was opened under her auspices in the colored church on Hancock Street. The school was opened daily by the repeating of the Lord's prayer in concert, led by Chaplain Stone, and he remained with them for an hour.

Several ladies interested themselves in this work. The teachers, for the most part, were soldiers from our regiment who taught in that school when not on military duty. This school numbered about five hundred, including a few adults. Under the circumstances, there could be but little systematic and regular teaching by classes, owing to the frequent change of teachers, and the lack of suitable text-books. It was pioneer work, but it let in some rays of light into their darkened minds, an earnest, perhaps, of better means of education in store for them in the near future.

It was certainly very gratifying to myself, and no doubt to all who contributed in this pioneer work of education in behalf of the colored youth of New Berne. The chaplain followed up this work when the regiment was relieved from provost duty and was in Camp Massachusetts; opening a school there for the contrabands near by, which was continued until our departure from the South. And thus throughout our term of service, whenever opportunity offered, our chaplain manifested his sympathy for this oppressed people, not only by public speech, but by bringing directly as far as was in his power, the blessings of education to them.

I have already alluded to our church privileges while in New Berne. The Episcopal Church was open in the morning, Major Sturgis in the absence of the Rector reading the service, and a sermon. The singing was by a quartette of male voices, two from our regiment, and two who were on detailed service in the city; and it was a great attraction to all lovers of music. The church building was of stone, and prettily situated on Pollock Street in an old burying ground filled with elms and willows and

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moss covered tombstones. The interior of the church was finished in good taste, and there was a very good organ to aid the music.

A Sunday School was started in this church during our stay in the city, with Major Sturgis as Superintendent. The school was largely made up of poor children, some were bare footed, while others were lacking one or two outside garments, and were of that class of whites in the South commonly termed "white trash."

I remember the kindness of heart and personal interest manifested by Major Sturgis towards the individual members of that school.

One Sunday during the session of the school, the Major came to the class which I was teaching, made up of boys about twelve years of age and speaking to each one, he asked one boy where he lived, and he replied, "Opposite the jail," and I remember the Major turned and asked me if I ever read the book of that title.

That school was growing rapidly in numbers and interest when we left the city.

While the chaplain was ever busy in various ways in doing good, he found time to be at the bedside of the suffering and dying to administer comfort and consolation. I am privileged in having a copy of a letter which was written by Chaplain Stone to his people at Park Street Church, and which tells its own story.

New Berne, N. C., February 12, 1863.

My Dear People:

There are few scenes on earth that reveal more visibly the glory of the Divine presence and the power of sustaining grace than the deathbed of a Christian. It has been my privilege to watch over the decline and the departure of one of God's dear ones in our regiment the past week. George Brooks, one of our own Boston boys, a member of Company A, recruited under Captain Russell Sturgis, Jr., now our major, was taken ill of typhoid fever about a week ago. From the first he expressed his entire resignation to the Divine will. He enjoyed the constant presence of Jesus at his side. When I asked him daily, "Is your Saviour near you today?" the look upon his face had a radiant answer before his lips could speak. All through his sickness that faithful presence

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cheered and sustained him. He was never dejected, he never murmured. He would say but little, as his lungs seemed congested, but by gasps and whispers one day he told me, holding my face down close to his, so that he could make me hear his lowest word--he told me that he never had had full assurance of his pardon and acceptance till he became a soldier. He said that in the battle of Kinston, under that terrible fire of the enemy, his Saviour came to him as never before, declared His Presence, revealed His love, and held his soul in His hands. As the hour of death drew on, he seemed to have three burdens of prayer. The first was quickly disposed of. He prayed aloud, "Oh, Lord, keep me, hold me fast, leave me not, let me not go," and then all thoughts of himself seemed to be at an end. Shortly after, his lips moved again and audibly, and his second burden was laid down at the Divine feet: "Oh God spare my country! oh, save my dear native land!" For a few moments, silence succeeded, and the voice of prayer was heard once more, the last earthly articulation of that tongue though his consciousness continued till his last breath, some fifteen minutes later. His last burden was borne up on the old familiar petition, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." His own soul, his country, the Israel of God, these three interests he thus commended in his last utterances to the faithful Promisor.

How could a Christian life close more appropriately and triumphantly? He was a fine, manly fellow, his eye very dark and bright, a swarthy face, with a brilliant set of teeth and a pleasant smile; a pleasant companion and an agreeable and valued friend. He was, as you would infer, a brave soldier, and on the battlefield suffered no tremor to disturb nerve or spirit. His body is to be embalmed and sent home, but his memory is already embalmed in our hearts, and will be fragrant as long as Christian patriotism shall be honored on earth, as long as Christian friendship shall endure in heaven. If any man ever doubted the sufficiency of the gospel of Christ to transform, sustain and elevate a human life, and help it to meet its last and greatest need, let him look upon such a scene, and his skepticism must vanish like mist before the sun. One's faith becomes more settled and immovable after such an exhibition of the truth and tenderness of Jesus.

Let your prayers hover constantly over the pillows of our sick and wounded. The touch of loved fingers is far away, but your intercessions may be as the shadow of an angel's wing to faces growing white under the signature of death.

Ever and constantly yours, A. L. Stone.

The days after the death of Comrade George Brooks, was Washington's birthday, which occurred on Sunday. In the morning

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the regiment marched to the Presbyterian Church and listened to Rev. Jacob M. Manning, chaplain of the Forty-Third Massachusetts Regiment (the "Tiger Regiment.") Chaplain Manning was at that time Pastor of the Old South Church of Boston. His subject was, "Moses, as a leader of God's chosen people, the Israelites." He said in substance that "God selected Moses to lead his people out of bondage, so Washington was raised up to lead his people out of subjection to the British Crown into civil liberty. And now the Union Army needed an efficient commander to lead it to victory. Burnside, McClellan and Hooker had not proved adequate to the task." General Grant had not then gained that prominence he afterwards attained.

At about mid-day we were startled by hearing the booming of cannon, and we naturally grasped our guns, thinking the rebels were attacking the city, but were informed by Chaplain Manning that it was a salute being fired from Fort Totten in honor of the day.

In the afternoon the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper was administered, those partaking who desired, Chaplain Manning having charge of the same, being assisted by Rev. Mr. James of Worcester, two lieutenants passing the emblems. It was quite a co-incidence that double celebration coming on the same day, namely, the death of Christ, our Spiritual Leader under the Gospel Dispensation, and the birth of Washington, the great leader of the American armies in that struggle of our Nation for freedom.

Our chaplain sought in various ways to provide for the spiritual welfare of the soldiers. His presence in the prayer meeting was very helpful and inspiring, as many of the regiment have again and again asserted.

One occasion I recall very vividly to mind. It was while I was prostrated by sickness and in the regimental hospital, and a prayer meeting was held in an adjoining barrack. I felt cheered and buoyed up as I heard those present singing the old and familiar songs, such as, "Nearer My God to Thee!" The regiment was highly favored during its entire service in having so many

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fine singers, whose rich and melodious voices often inspired and encouraged us, and helped to beguile many and many a weary hour.

I cannot close this article more appropriately than by quoting the farewell words of Chaplain Stone himself to his people, February 4th, 1866, in which he alluded to his absence from the church during the war as follows: "I have written ineffaceably upon my heart your ready and fervent response when the dread hour of our country's trial came. When many minds were perplexed, many souls fearful, and some faltering, the call was sounded for all hearts to be true and steadfast, and for the young men to go forth armed to the defense of the Capital and the flag. Our young men stood up, they buckled on the sword; they took up the rifle; old men blessed them; fathers and mothers gave them up, saying, "We have nothing dearer to give;" fond sisters gave both tearfully and cheerfully, the same kiss; young wives unclasped their fond arms from the necks of young husbands, and they went forth, our fairest, our noblest, our dearest, our bravest. And you, who went not, remained to pray, there were none but loyal hearts here, remained to give your humblest industry to the soldier's comfort, to the forwarding of bountiful supplies to the sick, the wounded, and the prisoners. You lent your pastor to a campaign of nine months, and kept your courage, unfaltering loyalty of spirit, large self-sacrifice, and triumphant hope to the last; and the young men, our elect, one hundred, came back to share the ovations of a rescued and grateful country bringing with them many an honorable scar, shattered limbs, and dismembered frames; leaving behind many a sod, stained with the best blood in their veins; leaving behind, alas! some of their gallant comrades, whose dust sleeps thank God! in safety and honor beneath the victorious flag, whose names are written in our hearts, and on our country's long scroll of heroes--names, which no distant and coming generations will willingly let die. Oh, had you been recreant in that great crisis of our Nation, and of humanity's long struggle, you and and I would have parted long ere this! But I thank God, the record of this church for loyalty, patriotism and valor, at home and in the high places in the fields is without blot or stain."

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IT was General Foster's intention to celebrate the anniversary of the capture of New Berne by a parade of the troops in and about the city, and orders to that effect had been issued to the various commanders, but it appears that the Confederates had a little programme laid out for that day which seriously interfered with General Foster's.

On Friday, March 13th, the rumors came thick and fast, that our pickets had been driven in here, there and everywhere. And during that day, and all the next, the rumors were exceedingly numerous and contradictory. Late Friday afternoon a small body of Confederate cavalry charged upon our infantry picket with its cavalry vidette, stationed at our outpost, at Deep Gully, and fired upon them. The fire was briskly returned, when the enemy left with some wounded. The main picket camp was notified of the attack, and Company K of the Twenty-Fifth Massachusetts Regiment was sent forward to the outpost, and Captain Chamberlain of the Third New York Cavalry, Company A, moved his command to the front, and dismounting his men, attacked the enemy's advance, which was concealed in the woods, a mile beyond the outpost. Captain Chamberlain, having felt the enemy's position and strength, retired, and Captain Denny ordered up the other infantry companies of his command, A, C and G of the Twenty-Fifth Massachusetts Volunteers, placing them in the most advantageous positions to repel any attack, Company K being stationed in the rifle pits. Very soon the enemy opened upon our forces from four pieces of artillery, throwing shells, grape, canister and solid shot, directly into the work, and among our troops. At this point Lieutenant-Colonel Lewis of the Third New York Cavalry arrived from New Berne,

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and assumed command, and finding the position untenable, ordered the brave men to retire in order, which was done without losing a man. Our forces reinforced by some companies of the Third New York Cavalry, and one small howitzer, took position about one hundred yards back of the rifle pits at the "Gully," and opened a heavy fire upon the enemy. The Confederates then attempted to flank our position, when Lieutenant-Colonel Lewis ordered a retreat, which was made in good order, the enemy following upon a charge with most terrific shouts and yells. The infantry lost one man in this retreat, William C. Wiswell, of Company G, belonging to North Oxford, Mass., who was probably taken prisoner. Our forces then took position at the Grape Vine House, three-fourths of a mile from Deep Gully, which position they held until the arrival of Colonel Lee's brigade at nightfall. Our forces laid upon their arms all night, suffering severely from the cold, and the next morning moved forward to attack the enemy.

General Palmer having arrived, took command. Company K was thrown into the woods on the right and had a severe skirmish of over an hour, with the enemy's advance, and drove them back some distance. News having arrived of the attack on the camp of the Ninety-Second New York, opposite New Berne, the troops at the outposts were ordered back to the city, with the exception of the Twenty-Fifth Massachusetts, under command of Colonel Josiah Pickett and Captain Rigg's Battery. They were ordered to keep back the advancing enemy. The confederates shelled the woods, slowly advancing until noon, but our infantry and artillery checked them pretty effectually, and about three o'clock in the afternoon it was discovered that they had retired behind the "Gully." At night, the Twenty-Fifth Massachusetts was relieved by the Forty-Third and Forty-Sixth Regiments of Massachusetts Volunteers, they holding the original position held by our troops in the morning, just in advance of the Jackson House.

Meantime, on Friday, all sorts of rumors, as we have already said, were afloat in New Berne. Now, the confederates are coming in force with thirty thousand, now with sixty thousand men.

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They had been skirmishing with us at Pollocksville, at Batchelder's Creek, on the Trent, on the Neuse. They were commanded by Longstreet, by Hill, by Pettigrew. They had twenty, thirty, fifty pieces of artillery. They had "bust in" our pickets, here and there. They had cut the railroad communication between here and Morehead, had taken Newport Barracks and captured its garrison, the Fifty-First Massachusetts. But it would be a useless task to repeat the tales of the hour, some true, some perverted, and many false. Saturday on going down to breakfast, to my great surprise, I heard cannonading from the region of Batchelder's Creek, "nearer and more near," it seemed, and while eating it was very audible to us all. We had orders to "fall in" for the "inspection" and "review" at 8.30 A. M. So we "fell in," and after standing a short time on the parade ground, we were dismissed and were ordered to deal out to the men instanter, forty rounds of ball cartridges, and officers and men to remain in quarters, waiting orders. While we stood there we could distinctly hear the cannonading across the river Neuse.

After parade was dismissed, I went down to the wharf, at the foot of Pollock Street, where a large crowd had already gathered, and with my field glass, witnessed the scene, which had thrown our garrison across the Neuse into some excitement. But there was no need of a glass, with the naked eye, we could see, across the river, a mile or two distant, the camp of the Ninety-Second New York, undergoing a heavy cannonading. There were "the bombs bursting in air," in and around the fort and beyond it, between us and them. Now they would burst high in air and anon, burst on the river itself, throwing up the spray. The wharf where we stood was crowded with soldiers and citizens, the "mean white trash," having come out, in what appeared to us, unusual numbers. It did not seem possible that the garrison could hold out much longer. While I had been quietly sleeping the war of cannon had broken. The guard and others on the wharf stated that the Confederates had been at it since daybreak. On the wharf I met one of the Ninety Second, who had then (9 o'clock) come over in a small boat, with the flag of

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truce, bringing a demand from the Confederates for a surrender of the little garrison. This demand was referred to General Foster, and this man was waiting with his party to carry back the message.

They were completely isolated from any help, their earthworks, a mound, and a ditch running around the fort, still incomplete, and not a piece of artillery over there, which shows somebody's gross carelessness. They were forced to see the Confederates file out of the woods, a complete brigade of four or five regiments, numbering three thousand two hundred men, as Pettigrew's cook afterwards told me, with Colonel Pettigrew in command, with eighteen pieces of fine artillery, fifteen of which they quickly posted, and served against the fort and the boats in the river. Pettigrew's idea was, to gain that side of the river, and if they could establish themselves there, they would hold the key to New Berne, as the town can easily be shelled from the camp of the Ninety-Second. He said that their men had not fired a shot, that their guns were of the poorest description, Austrian rifles, captured pieces, and there were only three hundred men in the earthworks. Each man, however, had taken his cartridges from his box and deposited them on the logs, behind which they lay, ready for the charge of the enemy, which they momentarily expected. Why hadn't the Confederates charged? The loss of life would had been fearful, and perhaps the gunboats would have shelled them out had they taken the fort. The wharves were crowded and men climbed up into the shrouds of the numerous trading vessels lying near the wharves. The Confederates and their cannon were beyond our sight, but the fort with its tents, were in plain view, and so was the signal officer, who was waving an immense white flag, with a red centre, signalling to our side. And there against the rampart of earth and logs, lay the dark indistinguishable mass of men, with fixed bayonets, which glittered now and then in the sun.

But the men were motionless. Our friend told us that but ten men of the Ninety-Second had, as yet, been wounded, notwithstanding the terrific shelling. Their works protected them from the grape and cannister and that while many of the shells

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burst inside the fort, but few had been wounded. To us, who were looking on from a distance, it seemed as if the men must be annihilated. In the city all was astir, but with no noise or tumult. There was a quiet moving of troops and orderlies dashing hither and thither with messages.

About nine o'clock our intent eyes were attracted by two huge scows, moving slowly out from the shore, beyond us, loaded with troops, and in a few minutes the word passed along, that it was the Eighty-Fifth New York, going over to reinforce their fellows of the Ninety-Second.

It was one of the most interesting and exciting mornings I ever passed. The bursting of the shells, the battle in full view and yet to us, on the New Berne side, a perfectly safe spectacle, for no shells reached within a half mile of us. And now the roar of the gunboats is distinctly heard, and now a schooner mounting two guns, moves up and opens fire on the enemy and does some very accurate work. We were told that these guns were served by negroes and that their firing was superior to that of the Hunchback. Hour after hour the conflict lasted. The Hunchback and the Hetzel all took part in this bombardment after nine o'clock. Previous to this time they were not ready. One had her steam down, another had trouble with her boiler and machinery, and had to be towed to the scene of action. The Hunchback ran aground, but did some very effective work, at a distance of more than a mile.

The missiles of these two boats, the Hunchback and the Hetzel did terrible execution. It is said that one shell killed two men of the enemy and wounded thirteen. In the meantime General Prince had been placing in position some twenty-pound howitzers belonging to Ranson's Battery, and they opened on the enemy in a lively manner. During a lull in the bombardment of the fort by the Confederates, General Pettigrew sent a summons to Colonel Anderson to surrender, giving him seven minutes before making an assault. Colonel Anderson, like his brave namesake of Fort Sumter, replied that "he didn't want seven seconds, and if they wanted the place to come and take it, and when they fired, it suited his convenience, as well as the assault." General Foster

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was keenly watching the progress of the fight and directed much of the artillery fire from the New Berne side of the Neuse. As will be seen from the little poem following this article, the Hetzel claims the chief part of the honor of repulsing and making void this determined attack.

The stern wheeler (popularly called wheelbarrow) Allison with one or two pieces of light artillery on board, made a reconnoissance up the river, shelling the woods as she went along.

In the afternoon the enemy retired, leaving many killed and wounded, and minus five pieces of artillery, one dismounted, two burst, and two mired in the swamp. During the fight the banks of the Neuse opposite the fort was lined with men, women, and children, and they were also on the housetops.

In the evening following the attack, the river was swarming with gunboats, as it was thought that with the large Confederate force in the vicinity, a general attack would be made the next day.

A Confederate deserter reported that a large force was marching on New Berne and intended to fire the city with red hot shot. Strict orders regarding fires were issued to the provost guard (the Forty-Fifth Massachusetts) and the firemen were up all night ready for an emergency.

The pioneers were ordered to hold themselves ready for instant duty, but the enemy made no further demonstration. General Amory with a few regiments went up the Trent road in search of the enemy but failed to find him. Many of us expected that an attack would be made at midnight.

In the Guard House I found two or three deserters from the Confederates, who escaped to our lines when Pettigrew fell back, one of them before the attack. They had marched from Kinston in two days and a night, marching all night, reaching here Friday night, and making the attack Saturday morning. As we have said one escaped Friday night, before the attack, and one fell out on the retreat. Pettigrew's orders were to shoot all stragglers. They claimed to be Union men, who were conscripted into the Confederate Army. They told us that there were about three thousand in the main body on the other

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side. One brigade came from Petersburg, Virginia, by rail, which was the force that attacked the camp of the Ninety-Second New York. They were out of food and came to get it. They had fifteen to eighteen pieces of artillery. Little Washington and Plymouth were to be attacked at the same time.

In honor of the repulse of the Confederates, General Foster had the "Stars and Stripes" displayed on the steeple of the Episcopal Church, the highest point in the city, and where visible for miles, it floated in proud defiance. On the Tuesday following the attack, in company with Sergeants Barstow and Butler, I crossed the river to the camp of the Ninety-Second New York. At this point the river is two miles wide, although in looking at it from our side, it did not seem more than three-quarters of a mile. The men of the Ninety-Second had many stories to tell us of the fight.

In front of the earthworks is a plain with low undergrowth, half a mile wide, stretching to the thick woods. The camp ground itself is small and close to the river bank. The rebel infantry filed slowly out of the woods, and formed their line on the edge, placing their cannon in front of them As we went over that ground we could tell the position of each piece, and the kind, for the earth was torn up by the recoil, and the ground in the vicinity strewn with gun-cartridges, papers, etc. They loaded and served their pieces with great coolness, as there was no resistance for a time, and they were within easy musket range, less than half a mile from the earthworks, and they ought to have been able to have battered the works to pieces.

The usual relics of such a firing were lying around. Here the ground was furrowed by a shell scooping half a dozen feet of earth, a foot in depth, and yonder it had ricocheted and made a similar cavity. These were the marks of the shells fired by our gunboats. There was a house or two occupied by "neutrals," standing directly in the line of fire of the batteries, and the shot and shell made havoc with them. One shot struck under the eaves, and went into the floor. Another had knocked a piece out of the ceiling, but, as usual, more damage was done to the outside of the houses. Others had swept the boughs off the low trees.

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Everywhere the effect of the shells could be seen. They showed us one spot where a rebel gun had burst, and close by was found a blanket covered with blood. Fragments of shells were lying around loose, and one or two whole conical shells, which did not explode. I saw one big round shell, unexploded, which I could, with difficulty, lift. But time would fail to speak of the marks of the terrific cannonading of that day, to which the fields, houses, trees, etc., were subjected.

Returning to the camp of the Ninety-Second, we observed that it was surrounded by an earthwork lined with logs, about three feet high, on all sides but one, the side toward the rebel attack, was perhaps six feet high. We saw where the men lay packed closely against the logs, and where their cartridges had been laid on the interstices. They were all at this time busily engaged repairing the earthworks which had saved them from annihilation. There was a ditch five or six feet wide, filled with water, all around the works. They could have made havoc of men attempting to charge across it, but it is said that the rebels, finding they could not trap our men, nor shell them out, determined to charge upon the works, when opportunely, the gunboats opened fire.

Within the works the tents were completely riddled. The few trees inside were torn to pieces, and two or three small rough houses, put up for officers' quarters were battered almost to kindling wood. I should say the Colonel's little house had twenty or thirty holes in it, made by the enemy's fire, about a dozen of which seemed clean cut and of grape shot size. I cannot picture the complete riddling of everything contained in the fort; fragments of shot and shell everywhere lying about. Men showed bullets and pieces of shell which they had found in their tents and beds, and benches.

While I stood there one of them picked up two pieces of shell and gave me, and another gave me a battered bullet. In front of the Colonel's quarters were the fragments of a 20 pound rifled cannon which had burst in firing and was left behind by the enemy. The tires were blown off and a part of the circumference, and it must have killed several of the men standing by when it burst.

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Lines, written at Newbern, N. C., March 14th, 1863, at the time of the attack on Fort Anderson by the rebels under Gen. Pettigrew, where they were repulsed, and finally driven off by the Gunboat Hetzel.

A mist hangs over Newbern, dim clouds obscure the skies,
And, like a caged monster, the good old Hetzel lies
A helpless hull, with fires drawn--without a pound of steam,
And not a friendly breeze afloat to waft her up the stream.
Beyond us on the Neuse's bank, and pointing to the north,
Lay Anderson and his brave band in their unfinished fort;
His orders were to watch the foe, and to arrest the flight
Of ravenous "guerilla" hawks that sweep around at night.
Now looking to the fort, we see a white flag cleave the air,
Which in its swaying language tells, "The foe in force is near."
In massive columns advancing, they now come pouring in,
'Tis Pettigrew, 'tis Pettigrew, with twice four thousand men.
His heavy guns are planted in fierce and dread array,
Demanding a surrender at one-half hour's delay;
But mark the proud defiance, in Anderson's reply--
"We'll never yield to rebel chief, we'll fight it out or die."
Then belches the artillery its showers of iron hail,
Which sweep across the ill-fared fort like sleet before the gale;
Now crouch the hapless soldiers behind the muddy walls,
That tremble as they check the flight of the destructive balls.
With angry frown our Capt. paces fore and aft the deck,
And looks upon his favorite craft, now helpless as a wreck;
He sees the curling smoke, and hears the rebel thunder roll,
And grief for being out of range disturbs his inmost soul.
Soon our mysterious bunting procured a towboat's aid,
And never with a better will was anchor ever weighed;
And now the well-tried soldiers, their grief for joy exchange,
For round about is heard the shout, "The Hetzel's within range."
Then McIntyre, our Bos'n, his marine bugle blew,
And summoned to their "quarters" the brave old Hetzel's crew;
With joy our Capt. viewed them, and proudly did he smile
On the heroes who sustained him at Roanoke's gloomy isle.

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"Cast loose! run in!" he calmly cries, (no need to say be stout),
"Sponge clean--load--ten second shell--ram home well--run out;
Now elevate and take good aim, be cool, boys, do it well,
And send the knaves your compliments, wrapt in a nine-inch shell."
And never yet did shot or shell on surer errand go,
Since first the traitor dared to strike that bold presumptuous blow;
Precision marked its flight, it burst full in their studded lines,
And swept them off as wild winds sweep seared branches from the pines.
Our next dismounts their heaviest gun, and fills them with despair,
And now the men who held the front are hastening to the rear;
Yes, all are reeling backward, discouraged, losing ground,
And seemed to know they've "little show" while Capt. D. is round!
When sunk the sun that evening, at anchor calm we lay,
In joyous groups, discoursing the glories of the day;
We saw the soldiers coming, with grateful hearts, to tell
How the Hetzel saved three hundred with her well aimed shot and shell.
Now drink to Capt. Davenport, and to his sailors brave,
Who drove the rebels as the wind drives foam upon the wave;
Likewise to Lynch, his Coxswain, who fired our nine-inch gun,
May he live long to wear the badge of honor he has won.

Dibdin No. 2.

Note. These verses were "hawked" around the streets of New Berne at ten cents a copy.

[image: Map Showing Newberne, North Carolina And Railroad Connections. Drawn By S.M. Allis. Malden, Mass. Formerly 27th Mass. From Sketch By G.C. Winsor. Late Adjt 45th Mass]