Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

New Braunfels is the county seat. It has 2,000 inhabitants, and
boasts of having the only free school in the State, supported by
aid from the State school fund, and by direct taxation on the
property of the school district. Four teachers are employed, and
there are 250 pupils.

The letters of my Texas friend give the following description of the climate of Texas:--

The climate of Texas is very peculiar. This is owing to the body
of water to the eastward of it, and to the dry and elevated plain
of the Llano Estacado, and the lofty mountains which lie to the
westward. To these two causes are due the moisture and the cool
temperature, and at times and in certain localities the excessive
dryness of Texas.

The Gulf stream, in its course along the coast of Florida and in
the Gulf of Mexico, has beneath it, running to the south, a cold
stream, nearly down to the freezing point. The great equatorial
current which strikes north of Cape St. Roque and through the
Caribbean Sea is suddenly narrowed between Cape San Antonio and
Cape Catoche; here the upper and warmer current, being condensed,
strikes deeper, and forces to the surface the cold water from the
under current, sometimes occasioning a roaring and very peculiar
noise. By this means the Gulf stream is divided, part turning to
the eastward around Cuba and between that island and Florida, and
part turning to the westward, north of the banks of Campeachy, and
striking Padre Island, an island upon the coast of Texas, about
one hundred and forty miles this current strikes, there are very
deep soundings, almost up with the land. South of this point, upon
the beach, are found mahogany and other tropical drift-wood,
brought there from the tropics; while north of it the drift wood
is oak, ash, and cotton-wood, brought from the north by a current
running counter to the Gulf stream, which I will hereafter
describe. From Padre Island the Gulf stream strikes off to the
north-east to the mouth of the Mississippi, thence around the
coast of Florida and through her keys, until it joins the other
branch. Inside the Gulf stream, along the coast of Texas, is the
counter-current before referred to, making down the coast at the
rate of two to three miles per hour, and bringing down the silt
and mud of the Mississippi, Sabine, etc. I have seen the water off
the Island of Galveston the color of chocolate, after a long
norther.

Above the centre of Padre Island the coast of Texas deepens at the
rate of about a fathom to the mile, until at twenty fathoms there
is a coral reef, and on the easterly side of this reef the water
deepens, as by the side of a perpendicular wall, to a very great
depth. This reef marks the boundary of the Gulf stream, and also
the boundary of the terrible tornado. The tornado of the Gulf of
Mexico never passes this barrier, never strikes the land, nor has
it been known within memory of man upon the coast.

It seems to confine itself to the course of the warm water of the
stream, and the great 'Father of the Waters' spreads his
counter-current down the coast of Texas, like a long flowing
garment, fending off the storm and the whirlwind, and thus still
better fitting Texas for the white man and the white man's labor.

With this freedom from violent storms comes the delicious
southerly wind in the summer, which gives health and moisture to
the larger part of Texas. This wind varies in the point from which
it flows. From Sabine to Matagorda its course is from south-east
to south-south-east, growing more and more to the south as the
coast tends to the south, until at the Rio Grande it blows from
due south with perhaps a little westing in it. The course of this
wind will explain the three belts of Texas, the rainy, that of
less rain, and that of great drought.

This wind from the south-east corner from across the ocean and
gulf (being a continuation of the south-east trades) laden with
moisture and of a delightful temperature, when it is met by the
cool air from the mountains, and condensed, giving the rains of
Eastern and Central Texas. The more southing they have in them,
the less moisture, until the extreme south-eastern portion of
Texas, or the country near the mouth of the Rio Grande, is one of
almost constant drought. There are thus three belts of moisture:
first, from the Sabine to the mouth of the Brazos, may be called
the belt of greatest rain,--from the Brazos to Lavaca or Victoria,
that of moderate rain,--and from Lavaca to the Rio Grande, the dry
belt. But even in the dry belt there is moisture enough to give
fine grasses, and make the country a fine one for grazing, and the
streams taking their rise in great springs, which probably have
their source in the melting snows of the Rocky Mountains, flowing
under the Llano Estacado and breaking out in great numbers in a
line almost north and south, never dry up, even in the dryest
seasons.

In the winter months, Texas has winds from the north, which come
on very suddenly, and produce great variation in the temperature.
They are disagreeable, but wholesome, and clear the atmosphere.
They do not extend north of the Red River, nor very far west, but
increase in intensity as they go south.

No country in the world can be healthier than Texas, and
consumption and pectoral complaints never originate in the area of
the northers.

Eastern Texas is generally well wooded; Middle and Western Texas
have wood on the banks of the streams, and frequent spots of
timber on the prairies.

Most of the country is covered with nutritious grass, affording
good pasture throughout the year, capable of supporting an endless
number of cattle and sheep, and almost all the soil is suited to
the growth of cotton. There are more than five thousand square
miles of bituminous coal in Texas, presenting seams five feet
thick, and hills of pure gypsum seven hundred feet high. These are
all covered by a generous sky and climate beneath which the white
man can live and work without fear of malaria or sickness, and
where he can enjoy all the blessings of the tropics without their
attendant disadvantages.

It is this superb country which we trust General Lane and his forces may soon redeem from the curse of slavery.

The woolen manufacturer has an equal interest with the cotton-spinner in demanding that this shall be done, for with this unequaled country for the production of wool remaining under the curse of slavery, we import annually nearly thirty million pounds of wool,--about one-third of our whole consumption. With Texas free, and emigration from abroad--for a long time reduced almost to nothing--freely encouraged, we should become exporters of wool, not importers.

But I am warned that I have exceeded the space allotted me. The absurd assertion that the emancipated negro lapses into barbarism and will not work, can only be met by the question, 'If he will not work except by compulsion, why does he work extra after his compulsory labor is over?' Evidence that he does so work can be presented _ad infinitum_, upon Southern testimony; witness that De Bow's _Review_ makes only a _few_ selections.

The _peculium_ of Southern servants, even on the plantation, is sometimes not trifling. We make a _few_ selections, showing--

THE NEGROES' CROP.--A friend has reported to us a sale, on
Tuesday, of a crop of cotton belonging to Elijah Cook, of Harris
Co., Ga., amounting to $1424 96-100.--_Columbus_ (Ga.) _Sun_, Dec.
29, 1858.

Mr. J.S. Byington informs us that he made two cotton purchases
lately. One was the cotton crop of the negroes of Dr. Lucas, of
this vicinity, for which he paid $1,800 in cash, every dollar of
which goes to the negroes.--_Montgomery (Ala.) Mail_, Jan. 21,
1859.

Speaking of negroes' crops, the sales of which our contemporaries
are chronicling in various amounts,--the largest which has come to
our knowledge is one made in Macon, for the negroes of Allen
McWalker. It amounted to $1969.65.--_Macon (Ga.) Telegraph_, Feb.
3, 1859.

Upon Louisiana sugar plantations, the exhausting work of the grinding season can only be maintained by a system of premiums and rewards equivalent to the payment of wages. Under that system the negroes of the sugar plantations are among the most healthy and contented in the South; while the same labor performed in Cuba, under the most severe compulsion, causes an annual decrease of the slave population, and the product of the island is only maintained by fresh importations of slaves from Africa.

With the following Southern testimony as to the intelligence of the negro, I leave this subject:--

Without book learning the Southern slave will partake more and
more of the life-giving civilization of the master. As it is, his
intimate relations with the superior race, and the unsystematic
instruction he receives in the family, have placed him in point of
intelligence above a large portion of the white laborers of
Europe.--_Plantation Life, by Rev. Dr. McTeyire_.

We claim emancipation for the white man; it can only be secured by the freedom of the negro. The infinite justice of the Almighty demands both.

If we now fail to accomplish it, to bear in the future the name of 'American Citizen' will be a badge of shame and dishonor.

* * * * *

GENERAL PATTERSON'S CAMPAIGN IN VIRGINIA.

It seldom happens that the history of any series of events can be written soon after they have transpired. The idea of history implies correctness, impartiality and completeness; and it is of rare occurrence that all these requisites can be obtained in their fullness within a brief period after the time of which the history is required. The historians of this day write of the past; and the historian of our present civil war is not yet born, who shall emulate the completeness and conciseness of Irving's Columbus, or Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella, or Motley's Dutch Republic. Nor can we expect an early solution to the 'Fremont question,' which shall be full and satisfactory, though the length of time involved be but one hundred days. But it is different with Gen. Patterson. It is true that his loyalty is disputed, and in this question may be involved many complicated issues; but the question of the general result of his three months' campaign in Virginia admits but one answer;--it was a failure. And it is an exception to the general rule that we can, within a few months after his campaign closed, see and understand exactly why and how he failed.

It is not proposed in this article to discuss the loyalty of Gen. Patterson, or to take sides with either those who claim for him a patriot's laurels or those who would have him suffer a traitor's fate. We shall ignore this question entirely, simply examining the acts of his last campaign, with reference to his capability and efficiency, the nature and effects of his policy, and the reasons of his failure. We propose to try him in the same manner and by the same standard as we would if his loyalty had never been questioned.

The early morning of the 12th day of June, 1861, found the writer a volunteer soldier of less than two months' experience in camp, just arrived with his regiment, from the distant Badger State, at Chambersburg, in Pennsylvania, where it was to join Patterson's division of the Federal army. For the next two months ensuing, the writer possessed all the facilities attainable to a private in the ranks for observing the progress of events in that division of the army, judging as to the propriety or necessity of the various movements, and forming opinions as to whether Patterson was using to the best advantage the military means within his control. These facilities were not many, it is true; but the public opinion of the North demanded certain actions from the general, and the writer, though but a private, could judge as to whether those demands of the loyal North were reasonable, and as to whether Patterson could accomplish what was required, if he chose. He was expected to _do something_; it did not matter in what particular manner; but it was deemed essential that he should in some way hold Johnston in check, and prevent his junction with the main rebel force at Manassas. And this was precisely what Patterson did not do. Bull Run was fought and lost, and the very result attained which Patterson was expected to prevent. Could it have been prevented?

It is fashionable in these days to set up the cry of inefficiency when a general does not do everything that public opinion requires. The Americans are proverbially a fault-finding people; and it will of course be as easy to make out an _ex parte_ case against Gen. Patterson as against our other generals. We propose, nevertheless, at the risk of being unfashionable, to discuss candidly these expectations of the American people which were not realized, together with the actual doings of the unsuccessful general. We deem it susceptible of logical proof that Patterson might and should have prevented Johnston's junction with Beauregard.

Tents pitched, and the dust of travel from a journey of a thousand miles washed off, the 'boys' of the 1st Wisconsin regiment stretched their weary limbs on the fragrant clover of Pennsylvania, and, like American soldiers everywhere, discussed with earnestness and warmth the causes, progress, and prospects of the war. Our own position was not a little interesting. The strength of Patterson's division was not precisely known, but troops were arriving daily, and it was supposed to consist of about twenty thousand men. As was well understood, it was intended to menace Harper's Ferry, a strong natural, military and strategic position, then held by the rebels. A severe struggle was anticipated if the Ferry were attacked, and many were the pictures drawn of bloody scenes and terrible carnage. But the writer, doubting the assumed strength of the rebels at that point, freely expressed the opinion that there would be no fight there, but that the rebels would evacuate the post. And before his regiment left Chambersburg, this prediction was verified. The rebels, alarmed at the prospect which loomed up before them of a strong column of Federal troops, burned the Armory and Arsenal, and fled. And here we may find a key to the whole of the rebel manoeuvring--they were weak, and unable to cope with Patterson, _and they knew it_. Upon no other hypothesis can we account for their evacuating so strong and so important a point as Harper's Ferry.

Up to this time it had been a foregone conclusion with the army, as well as with the American people, that Patterson was to occupy Harper's Ferry. No other course of action was for a moment thought of. Even so late as the 30th of June, when the different brigades were called together, preparatory to crossing the Potomac, very many were sanguine that Harper's Ferry was to be made the base of operations, and did not give up that opinion till they found themselves _en route_ for Williamsport. But the strong strategic position was neglected for more than a month; and finally, on the very day when Johnston poured his fresh legions upon the bloody field of Bull Run, and forced the Federals to fall back, Patterson, with his back to the foe, entered Harper's Ferry, with his three months' men, whose term of enlistment was expiring, by the very road by which Johnston had left it in June.

This neglect of Patterson to occupy the strongest point in his field of operations puts the stamp of imbecility upon him at the commencement of his campaign. The rebels expected him to occupy that point, as, even so late as the time of his crossing the Potomac, the force which disputed his onward march into the valley of Virginia was not so great as that held at Charleston to dispute his march from Harper's Ferry in case he entered the valley there. Patterson himself confessed his mistake, by retiring to the Ferry in July, for the avowed reason that his three months' men must soon go home, and he must be in such a position as not to tempt an attack from the rebels while his column was thus weakened and disorganized, and before he could be reinforced by three years' men. Why did not this necessity, and the propriety of holding Harper's Ferry as a base of operations for this reason alone, if for no other, occur to the cautious general before, as it did to so many of less military experience than himself? Patterson, at the last day, thus confesses his error. It was the first great mistake of his campaign. The second was one of a different nature.

On the 2d day of July, the army crossed the Potomac at Williamsport, by means of the ford. The crossing was commenced at daylight, and consumed the whole of the day. Just before daylight, a little passage at arms occurred on the Virginia side of the stream, the companies who had been thrown over the night before as pickets having been fired on by a detachment of the 'Berkeley Border Guard,' and returning the fire promptly. But this served only to stimulate the already keen energies of the Federal forces, who waded knee-deep through the clear Potomac, and trudged along over the 'sacred soil' with a willingness unchecked by the cold nor'wester that raged on that July morning. That portion of Berkeley County, Virginia, which lies opposite to Willlamsport, is called 'the Neck,' being in the shape of a horse-shoe, and nearly surrounded by the detour of the Potomac. The turnpike leading from Williamsport to Martinsburg and Winchester traverses the whole length of 'the Neck;' and it was on this road that the advance guard of the division, Abercrombie's Brigade, took its line of march, a brush with the rebels being momentarily expected. The first view of their pickets, after leaving Williamsport, was obtained at Falling Waters, by which sonorous appellation the Virginians designate a small and pretty mill-pond, which loses itself over the dam of a solitary grist-mill, within a stone's throw of the Potomac. Here was a strong natural position, and an excellent place for waging a defensive war, if the rebels had been so disposed. But they did not make a stand till a point was reached a mile south from Falling Waters, and about five miles from Williamsport, where their skirmishers opened fire at 9.15, A.M. The skirmish which ensued, and which has since been styled the Battle of Falling Waters, was sustained on the part of the Federals by Abercrombie's Brigade, consisting of the 1st Wisconsin and the 11th Pennsylvania regiments, McMullen's Philadelphia company of Independent Rangers, the Philadelphia City Troop of cavalry, and Perkins' Field Battery of six guns. This force speedily dislodged a superior force of the enemy, and pursued them for two miles, as far as the hamlet of Hainesville, where orders from Gen. Patterson to cease the pursuit allowed the rear-guard of the rebels to elude their grasp. The contest and the chase lasted but two hours, and at noon the advance guard encamped at Hainesville. The remainder of the day was consumed by the army in selecting grounds and pitching tents; and by night, Gen. Patterson, with twenty thousand men, had succeeded in marching seven miles, routing Col. Jackson's rebel brigade, and occupying Camp Jackson, distant about two and one-half miles from the Maryland shore of the Potomac. On Tuesday, the 3d of July, the indomitable general advanced five and one-half miles farther, to Martinsburg, the county seat of Berkeley County, and occupied the town with his whole force, without firing a gun; the rebel rear-guard leaving Martinsburg for the south as the Federal advance entered it from the north.

It would seem that at such a moment a skillful general would take advantage of such a little success, and follow it up, especially when he had spent as much time in preparation as had Patterson, by a series of crushing blows, if anything could be found to crush. And in view of the facts that Gen. Johnston had thus far made almost no opposition to the advance of the Unionists, and that Patterson's soldiers were without exception eager and anxious to push on, the policy of holding back seems almost unaccountable. But Patterson tarried at Martinsburg for nearly two weeks, and telegraphed for more troops; and on the 15th of July, when he commenced his forward march toward Winchester, he suddenly discovered that Johnston had so fortified that place that it would be unsafe to attack it! It may be that he could get no accurate information as to the strength of the rebel force, and that he supposed them to be superior to himself. Still, there were many signs which a capable general could have read plainly. It was well known that there were in Johnston's advance force no really good troops, except the 'Berkeley Border Guard,' a company of cavalry, composed of citizens of Berkeley County, who, from their complete and minute knowledge of the country, their skill in the saddle, and their zeal in the rebel cause, were as formidable, though not so notorious, as the Black Horse Cavalry of Fairfax and Prince William. The rout of the rebels at Hainesville, or Falling Waters, partook of the nature of a panic, as was evidenced by the profuse scattering of knapsacks, clothing, canteens and provisions along the 'pike.' Indeed, the conduct of the Virginia militia scarcely sustained the loud professions of desire to 'fight and die in defending the sacred soil of Virginia from the invader,' as announced by the letters and papers found in their knapsacks. And the whole course of these events convinced the private soldiers, if not the commanding general, that Johnston's highest ambition at that time was to gain time. Did he not know as well as any one that the time of enlistment of many of Patterson's men had nearly expired? And what more natural than for him to keep the latter at bay till such a time as the withdrawal of very many of his best troops would force him to retire? There were many true Unionists, too, in the ranks of the rebels, who would have been glad of opportunities to escape; this was well known. It seems impossible to resist the conclusion that Patterson should have acceded to the unanimous wish of his rank and file, and followed up his success at Hainesville, by occupying Martinsburg on the 2d, advancing to 'Bunker Hill' on the 3d, and dispersing the small rebel force known to be there, and celebrating the 4th of July by marching on Winchester, and attacking and reducing that post, as it seems he might easily have done at that time. This would of course prevent the apprehended junction of Johnston with Beauregard. The history of the war in the Old Dominion would then have been differently written; Bull Run and its panic would not be a stain upon our national honor, and--but who can not read the rest? It is true, Patterson should bear none of the blame of the Bull Run disaster, if he could have done nothing to avoid it; but we have shown that he could have done what was necessary, and that there were reasons existing at the time for taking such a course, of which he should have been cognizant.

The army left Martinsburg for the south, as we have seen, on Monday, July 15th. The whole division, with trifling exceptions, moved forward, and advanced on that day as far as 'Bunker Hill,' ten miles from Martinsburg. An insignificant rebel force fell back as Patterson advanced, and at 'Bunker Hill' the army encamped around the smoking brands of the rebel camp-fires, just deserted. Here was a small post-town called Mill Creek; and near by, the high ridge called 'Bunker Hill' formed another fine natural position for defence; but the rebels were not disposed to defend it. Patterson lay here two days, within twelve miles of the rebel strong-hold at Winchester, the pickets of the two armies watching each other by night and day. On the 17th the Federal army was astir before daylight, and an advance to the south was commenced. But before the rear-guard filed down from 'Bunker Hill' to the turnpike, a counter-march was ordered; and the whole division proceeded twelve miles to the east, leaving Winchester on their flank, and occupying Charlestown, in Jefferson County. What could have pleased Johnston better? What wonder that he should take the opportunity, as soon as satisfied that this flank movement was not intended to operate against him, to leave his fortifications at Winchester in charge of a small force, and rush to reinforce Beauregard? And is it not more than remarkable that Patterson, after occupying Charlestown for four days, should fall back to Harper's Ferry on the very day when his foe had effected his _ruse de guerre_, and was actually turning the tide of battle at Bull Run?

There is nothing in all this to change the opinion, previously formed, that Patterson should have pushed on to Winchester early in July. The whole of Johnston's manoeuvering seems to have been calculated merely to deceive Patterson, and to gain time. And so clever was he in his strategy, that, when his march to Manassas commenced, Patterson, learning either of the main movement or of a feint towards himself, aroused his army at midnight, and held them in readiness to fight, in apprehension of instant attack. As early as the middle of June, when Patterson threw a brigade over the Potomac at Williamsport, on a reconnoitering expedition, Johnston heard of the movement, and advanced a small force to engage and delay the Federals, which fell back as soon as the latter retired, as has since been learned from escaped prisoners and deserters. Indeed, the whole of Patterson's campaign shows far superior generalship on the part of his adversary.

Scarcely had the cautious general occupied from necessity that point whose strength and natural facilities he had previously despised, when the term of his appointment as general of the division expired, and the government allowed him to retire to private life. His successor's first act was to retire across the Potomac and occupy the Maryland Heights, opposite to Harper's Ferry, leaving not a foot of rebel soil to be held by our army as an evidence of the 'something' which had been expected of the venerable commander of the army of the Shenandoah. He had spent three months of time, and ten millions of money, and had only emulated the acts of that Gallic sovereign whose great deeds are immortalized in the brief couplet,

'The king of France, with twice ten thousand men,
Marched up the hill, and then--marched down again.'

He had done more. He had committed another grave error, which has received but little public attention, but which told with disastrous effect upon the Union cause in Northern Virginia. That section of the State, as is well known, contained many true Union men. Previous to Patterson's entry into Virginia, they had been proscribed and severely treated by the secessionists. Many had been impressed by the rebel troops; the 'Berkeley Border Guard' had dragged many a peaceable Unionist from his bed at night to serve in the ranks of Johnston's army. But many others had been able to keep their true sentiments wholly to themselves, and had feigned sympathy with secession; while many more had fled from their homes across the Potomac, and sought refuge in loyal Maryland, where they hung around the Federal camps, vainly urging an early advance, that they might go home and take care of their families and their crops. Thus was Berkeley County completely shackled, and a reign of terror fully established. And on that bright morning of the 2d of July, as the Federal army marched over the 'sacred soil,' the cleanly cut grain fields, with their deserted houses, told plainly of secessionist owners, who could stay at home and cut their grain while the rebels were in force, but who fled before the advance of Union troops, and deserted their homes; while the fields of standing grain, with the golden kernels ripe and almost rotting on the stalks, and the cheerless-looking houses, tenanted only by women and children, told as plainly of the poor Unionists, driven from home and family by the 'Border Guard' who so bravely 'defended the sacred soil.' With the advance of the Union army came back hundreds of Union refugees from Maryland; poor, half-starved men crept out to the roadside from their hiding-places, and told the Union troops that they now first saw daylight for several weeks; and the lonely yet brave women displayed from their hovels the Union flags, the true 'Red, White, and Blue,' which their loyalty had kept for months concealed. And as the army tarried at Martinsburg, and reinforcements came in, the secret Unionists avowed their real sentiments; the Union flag was displayed from many a dwelling; and the fair hands of Martinsburg women stitched beautiful banners, which, with words of eloquent loyalty, were presented to the favorite Union regiments, and even now are cherished in Northern homes, or in Union encampments, as mementos of the gratitude of Berkeley County for its deliverance from the reign of terror. Yet how was the confidence repaid which these loyal people thus reposed in Gen. Patterson? In less than three weeks, not a Union soldier was left in Martinsburg, and before the first of August they were withdrawn wholly from Berkeley and Jefferson Counties. And the poor refugees who had returned to their homes in good faith, and the loyalists who in equal good faith had spoken out their true patriotism and their love of the Union, were left to the tender mercies of the 'Berkeley Border Guard,' and such braves as the Texan Rangers, the Mississippi Bowie-knives, and the Louisiana Tiger Zouaves. Gray-headed men like Pendleton and Strother were dragged from their homes to languish for weeks in Richmond jails, and the old reign of terror was reëstablished with renewed virulence. Shall we ask these poor, deceived Unionists of Northern Virginia what they think of Gen. Patterson, and of the success of his campaign? How can we estimate the injury to the cause of the Union inflicted in this way alone by a grossly inefficient Federal general?

There were other reasons than those already enumerated why Patterson should have occupied Harper's Ferry at an early day, and these were reasons of economy, which commended themselves to the judgment of almost every one except the commanding general. The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad is the natural and only good thoroughfare along the valley of the upper Potomac. Harper's Ferry, confessedly the strongest and best military point in Northern Virginia, and the one best fitted for a base of offensive operations, is on this railroad, and, of course, of easy access from Baltimore and Washington. In June last the road was open from Baltimore to the Point of Rocks, between which last place and the Ferry were some rebel obstructions easy to be removed. Had Gen. Patterson occupied Harper's Ferry in June, and opened the railroad to that point, and from thence carried on the campaign like a brave general, worthy to command the brave men who filled the ranks of his army, the government might by this time have made the whole line of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad of use, as a means of transporting troops and munitions between Cincinnati and Baltimore,--a desideratum then, as now, very strongly urged, as the shortest route between those points is the circuitous one _via_ Harrisburg and Pittsburgh. It could have been of great use, too, to Patterson's division of the army, in transporting supplies from Baltimore, by the most natural and expeditious route. But it was his plan to enter Virginia at Williamsport, so that all supplies for his division must go from Baltimore and Philadelphia to Harrisburg, and thence by rail to Hagerstown, where they were loaded upon army wagons, and transported thus to and across the Potomac, and for fifteen or twenty miles into Virginia, to the Federal camps, at very great outlay and expense. So earnest did Gen. Patterson seem to be, either in doing nothing, or else in causing all the expenditure possible.

These are the arguments which address themselves to our reason, as bearing on the question of Patterson's success or failure, and as explanatory of the latter. As before stated, they are urged, not to show that Patterson should have possessed prophetic knowledge or any extraordinary powers, but to illustrate his failure to understand what was transpiring before his face and eyes. He is culpable, not because he did not achieve impossibilities, but because he did not do what plain common-sense seemed to require. The writer heard, among the Federal camps, but one reason suggested for Patterson's neglect to occupy Harper's Ferry in June, which was, that probably the rebels had concealed sundry infernal machines in its vicinity, which would destroy thousands of the Union soldiers at the proper time. This was building a great military policy on a very small basis. If there was running through Gen. Patterson's policy any such plan of military strategy, or, in fact, any plan whatever, we have the curious spectacle presented of a general of an army ignoring common-sense, and building up a plan of a great campaign solely upon improbabilities. And it strikes us that this may be the key to the general's system of warfare, and a very plain and lucid explanation of his failure.

It is not deemed desirable here to treat of Patterson's other faults, such as his indulgent treatment of rebel spies, his failure to confiscate rebel property, and his distinguishing between the property of rebels and loyalists, by placing strong guards over the former, and neglecting to take equal care of the latter. Such acts only prove him to be either more nice than wise, or less nice than foolish; unless we argue him to be, as many do, a secret secessionist. But we leave it to others to draw inferences as to his loyalty or disloyalty. Our task is accomplished if we have shown that whether loyal or false, whether a patriot or a traitor, his three months' campaign in Virginia proves him unfit to be a commander, by revealing three great faults, each injuring the cause he professed to aid, all combining to render his campaign a failure, and two of the three assisting directly in our disaster at Bull Run, and deepening that dark stain upon our national escutcheon. His neglect to occupy Harper's Ferry in June, his failure to push on against Johnston when there was an opportunity to injure him, and his cool betrayal of the Unionists of Northern Virginia into the clutches of the rebel Thugs, will place the name of Patterson by the side of the names of Lee, Hull, Winder, and Buchanan, who, though not the open enemies of their country, were its false and inefficient friends.

* * * * *

THE GAME OF FATE.

Ever above this earthly ball,
There sit two forms, unseen by all,
Playing, with fearful earnestness,
Through life and death, a game of chess.

Feather of pride and wolfish eye,
Judas-bearded, glancing sly;
Many a pawn you have gathered in,
Through circling ages of shame and sin!

Fair as an angel, tender and true,
Is he who measures his might with you;
Oft he has lost, in times long gone,
But ever the terrible game goes on.

But where are the chessmen to be found?--
Where the picket paces his dangerous round;
Where the general sits, with chart and map;
Where the scout is scrawling his hurried scrap.

Where the Cabinet weigh the chances dread;
Where the soldier sleeps with the stars o'erhead;
Where rifles are ringing the peal of death,
And the dying hero yields his breath.

Where the mother and sister in silence sit,
And far into midnight sew and knit,
And pray for the soldier-brother or son,--
God's blessing on all that the four have done!

Where the traitors plot, in foul debate,
To war with God and strive with fate;
Digging pitfalls to catch them slaves,--
Pitfalls, to serve for their own deep graves.

Where the Bishop-General proves that the rod
Which lashes women is blest of God.
There's a rod to come, ere the red leaves fall,
Which will swallow your rattlesnake, scales and all.

Where the wretched Northern renegade
On a Southern journal plies his trade,
Swearing and writing, with scowl or smile,
That all that is Yankee is low and vile.

Where the cowardly dough-face talks of war
But fears we are going a little too far;--
Hoping the North may win the fight,
But thinking the South is 'partially right.'

Where the trembling, panting contraband
Makes tracks in haste from the happy land;
And where the officer-gentlemen
Catch him and order him home again!

Where the sutler acts like an arrant scamp,
And aids the contractor to rob the camp;
Both of them serving the South in its sin,
And all of them helping the devil to win.

So the game goes on from day to day,
But there's ONE behind all who watches the play;
Well he knows who at last must beat,
And well he will reckon up every cheat.

Wolfish dark player, do your best!
There's a reckoning for you as well as the rest;
Eastward or westward your glance may wend,
But the devil always trips up in the end.

* * * * *

JONATHAN EDWARDS AND THE OLD CLERGY.

Of late years the attention of many thinking men has been much turned to the early clergy of America. One reads of St. Peter's Church that, notwithstanding its immense size above ground, it has an equal amount of masonry under ground. Of the iceberg even more can be said, since its submerged proportions are of vastly greater extent than its visible surface. One may well inquire how much of American greatness is hidden in its foundation. How massive indeed must be the hidden corner-stone on which rests the structure of national character. New England is now turning its attention to the histories of ancient families; genealogy is no small feature in modern literature, and thus the age seems to confess that such research is a token of advance.

I believe that the strength of our ancestors was owing to their pure and simple piety; indeed, one can not go back even for a century without meeting this element in clear developement. The old New England preachers were of a character peculiarly adapted to the severe exigencies of their day. They stood as iron men in an iron age. However rude in other social features, the early settlers, as they worked their way to the frontier, demanded the soothing influences of pastoral care, and the first institution reared in the forest was the pulpit, the next the school-house. The pastors were settled for life, and minister and people abode in communion, with little change but that of age. In seeking a field, the youth just launched into his profession 'candidated' among vacant churches, and was heard with solemn attention by the selectmen and bench of deacons. Notes were taken by the more fastidious for subsequent criticism, and the matter was discussed with all the importance of a national treaty. When the call had been accepted, the stipend was generally fixed at one hundred pounds, and a rude parsonage opened its doors of welcome. To this was almost invariably attached a farm, whose native sterility called for such expenditure of toil that it might truly have been said,

'The furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke.'

These men indeed united mental and physical labor in a remarkable degree. The long winters were devoted to study, to sermons, or to meetings,--the summer to the plow and the harvest. One instance is on record in which the entire stock of a year's sermons were written between December and April. But, notwithstanding the inevitable drudgery of such a life, the ministry was, upon the whole, noted for study. The course held at Harvard required close application, and even at the chapel exercises the Scriptures were daily read in the original languages. These labors and studies are recorded in that quaintest of all American books, Mather's Magnalia. Whatever be the pedantry and vanity of its author, he is undeniably worthy of rank among the men whom he chronicled. Indeed, the Mathers, father and son, illustrated a race of rare moral and intellectual power. The first of these, who enjoyed the profitable name of 'Increase,' was equally popular and successful as president of Harvard or pastor of the church of Cambridge, and the son takes little pains to conceal his filial pride as he blazons the virtues of 'Crescentius Madderus.' He is particular in recording him as the first American divine who received the honorary title D.D. As one looks back upon the primitive days of the nascent university, he is struck by the contrast between the present numerous and stately array of halls, the magnificent library, and all the pomp of a modern commencement, and the slender procession of rudely clad youth led by Increase Mather. As they marched out of the old shaky college and filed into the antique meeting-house, what would they have said to a glimpse of Gore Hall and its surroundings? But those were the beginnings of greatness, simple as they were.

The pages of the Magnalia are filled with portraits hit off in a masterly style. Mather was a true 'Porte Crayon,' and knew how to bring out salient points with a few happy touches. His picture-gallery is like an ancient Valhalla, full of demigods. Among their characteristics are strong contrasts. Here are piety and poverty and learning, hand in hand. These men, as we have stated, could swing the axe, or chop logic, at a moment's notice; could pull vegetables, or dig out Hebrew roots, with alternate ease. Notwithstanding their long days of labor, their minds kept their edge, being freshly set by incessant doctrinal disputations. Such, indeed, was the public appetite for controversy that polemic warfare never slumbered. Our view of their character is assisted by a contrast with the English clergy of the same day, and which reveals shameful deformities on the part of the latter--avarice, indolence, and gluttony. Of such, Milton spake in Lycidas, with withering contempt, as those who

'for their bellies' sake
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold.'

If the Puritan poet be charged with prejudice, we have only to turn to the pages of Macaulay for confirmation. Where, indeed, if this be true, did Fielding obtain the originals for the ordinary at Newgate, or 'parson Trulliber' in Joseph Andrews?

Sad and strange was that disappointment which awaited the first emigrants to Massachusetts Bay. But there was a divine mercy in it; they came to seek peace, but a sword awaited them. I refer to the famous Anne Wheelright controversy, which rent the infant settlement of Boston for more than ten years. The excitement extended through the entire colony, affording many a bitter and vindictive argument. The pulpit belabored it in sermons of two hours' length, after which the deacons in their official seats occasionally expatiated to audiences whose patience on this theme was inexhaustible. As the controversy waxed hot, it got into the hands of the civil authorities, and some of its disputants were thrust into jail as heretical. Anna Wheelright was a woman of great mental vigor, and could hold her own in a debate with her reverend disputants. Unfortunate as this controversy may appear, it proved a benefit, by sharpening the public mind to a prodigious degree. Indeed, the very children of Boston could define the terms of the covenant of grace. Weary of a controversy bordering on persecution, Anne Wheelright sought a new home in the wilderness, and was subsequently murdered by the Indians. But the force of mental exercise which she had put in motion still continued. It is worthy of remark that almost the only intellectual peculiarity to which Franklin refers, in speaking of his father, is 'a turn for polemics.' The great features of New England character were, at that day, opinion and faith. It was these, as boldly and defiantly expressed, which excited the fears and jealousy of Charles the Second, and instigated the deprival of the colonial charters.

The studious and prayerful habits of the clergy continued from generation to generation, and their piety was most tender and touching in their ministrations. We might dwell, had we time, on the Cottons, the Mitchells, and the Sheppards, but, revered above all others, comes before us the venerable form of John Elliott, the missionary, clad in homespun apparel, his face shining with inward peace, while his silver locks overhang his shoulders. He was the Nestor of divines, and the character of his labors might be judged from his motto--' Prayers and pains with faith in Christ Jesus can accomplish anything.' His efforts and successes amongst the Indians were remarkable, and it was commonly reported that he possessed the gift of prophecy. But he was not the only man of that day who dwelt so close to the confines of the spiritual world as to be alternately visited by angels and devils. Indeed, what tales of the supernatural Mather relates, what a juxtaposition of saints and demons! Of course, there was a foundation to build upon,--had not Mather himself in his family for more than a year a possessed girl, whose familiar haunted the house and made it ring at times like a bedlam? It was a peculiar characteristic in this chapter of _diablerie_, that when the Scriptures were being read, or prayers attended, the spasms became terrific; but when any ungodly book was substituted in place of the Bible, there was an immediate relief.

The age was one of wonders, and Mather devotes an entire book to what he calls Thaumaturgia. Many of its statements are bold impositions on the reader's credulity; but there was much which, in those days of ignorance, must have seemed to Mather to be undeniable phenomena of a mysterious nature. After the colony had escaped many minor dangers, a new ordeal of suffering awaited it in a faith in sorcery, resulting in the horrible episode of Salem witchcraft, which may be considered the darkest stain upon the age. The death-beds and parting scenes in such a community were cherished features in domestic history, and almost every cottage could boast its Euthanasy. Ministering angels not only hovered over the couch, but touched their harps in melodies, whose music sometimes reached the human ear. Youth tender and inexperienced claimed a share in these triumphs, and Nathanael Mather, though but seventeen, expires in all the maturity of a saintly old age.

Coming down to the survivors of the first emigration, we find them lingering amid the respect and veneration of the community, and their graves were deemed worthy of patriarchal honor. After their departure the ministry seems to have lost tone and fervor. The union of church and state swept them into secularities, and thus impaired their strength. So great was the decline, that by the close of the first century, formality chilled the churches, and the people bewailed their coldness, while the aged wept at the remembrance of by-gone days. Cotton Mather had prophesied of a coming time when churches would have to be gathered _out of the churches_ in the colony. The cry of the saints was 'Return, how long, O Lord, and let it repent thee concerning thy servants.' Some of the more hopeful maintained that the midnight only heralded an approaching dawn. Two ministers on Long Island, Barber and Davenport, had received divine assurance of a return of power, and held themselves in anxious waiting. At last, brilliant flashes began to play athwart the sky, and instead of the meteoric glare which some feared, it indicated the purer sunbeam, in whose genial power the church was to rejoice for more than a third of a century. Whitefield's advent sent a thrill through all New England. He sailed from Charleston to Newport, where venerable parson Clapp, tottering with age, welcomed him as though he had been an angel of God. Whitefield's power was comparable to the supernatural, and it was in this view John Foster, at a later day, found the only solution of his success. In the pulpit his appearance and manners exceeded the dreams of apostolic grace--a youth of elegant form, with voice of enchanting melody, clear blue eyes, an endurance which knew no exhaustion--a fancy which ranged both worlds--were all fused by a burning zeal for the salvation of souls. Such was Whitefield at twenty-five, and as such he was worthy of that ovation which he received at Boston, when governor and council went out in form to welcome him. The evangelist bore his honors meekly, and hospitality did not weaken the vials of wrath which he poured upon the unfaithful. He found, as he said, in New England 'a darkness which might be felt.' At Cambridge, he thundered at the deadness of Harvard and its faculty, and electrified the land by striking at its glory. The hearers alternately wept and shivered, and the professors, headed by old Dr. Holyoke (who afterwards lived to celebrate his hundredth birthday), levelled a defensive and aggressive pamphlet at their castigator; but Governor Belcher kissed the dauntless preacher, and bade him 'cry aloud and spare not, but show the people their sins.'

The second century, like the first, opened with fierce ecclesiastical tumult. Whitefield's itineracy, like the blazing cross in the Lady of the Lake, was the signal for an uprising. Fired by his passionate oratory, the masses revolted from the chill formalism of a dead ministry. The effect of the excitement which pervaded New England, when considered merely as an appetizer of the intellect, can not be over-estimated, and the vigor which the colonial mind thus acquired astonished in an after day the dullards of the British Parliament. The chief throb was felt in Connecticut, where strolling preachers of a new order held forth in barns and school-houses. Among these imitators of Whitefield were some men of high character, such as Tennant and Finley (afterwards president of Nassau Hall, Princeton), while others were frenzied enthusiasts. Davenport, the chief of these, was 'a heavenly-minded youth,' whose usefulness was wrecked by fanaticism. In his journey he was attended by one whom he called his armor-bearer, and their entrance into each village was signaled by a loud hymn sung by the excited pair. The very tone in which Davenport preached has been perpetuated by his admirers; it was a nasal twang, which had great effect. A law was passed against those irregularities, and Davenport was thrown into Hartford jail, where he sang hymns all night, to the great admiration of his friends. On being released he went to Lyme, where, after sermon, a bonfire of idols was made, to which the women contributed their ornaments and fine dresses, and the men their vain books. This religious movement was marred by much evil; yet its fruits, as we have stated, were found in that mental strength which subsequently bore the brunt of the Revolution. Its excited scenes are hit off by such reports as these,--'Sally Sparhawk fell and was carried out of meeting;' this statement being frequently repeated. The style of preaching in vogue may be imagined when we read of Tennant's appearance in the pulpit, with long locks flowing down his back, his gaunt form encased in a coarse garment, girt about the loins with a leathern girdle, in imitation of the prophet Elijah. His discourses were 'awful and solemn,' and the houses were crowded, though the cold was so intense as to sheet Long Island Sound with ice. Other memorials of this great awakening are found in Edwards' thrilling sermons, such as 'Sinners in the hands of an angry God,' 'Wicked men only useful in their destruction,' etc. For years after, the grand idea of New England was piety and good morals, and as there were no journals, except here and there a dwarfed weekly, the power of the pulpit was unrivaled. Religion was a common theme in every house. As a result, it is stated that during the whole Revolution, there was but one case of wilful murder in Massachusetts, and Dwight informs us that up to his day there had never been a lawsuit in Northampton, nor a loss by fire in which the damage was not mutually shared by the citizens. He also adds that on a given Sabbath five-sixths of the community were found in meeting. The minister in each town was supported by tax, and being in some sense a public officer, the ceremony of ordination was sometimes celebrated with procession and band of music.