Chapter X (1)

"DAVIDSON'S SWEET POTATO RAID"--SOUTHERN ALABAMA--DESTRUCTION OF RAILROADS--OYSTER FISHING--MOBILE EXPEDITION--BARANCAS--NEWS OF LEE'S SURRENDER--ASSASSINATION OF LINCOLN--FORT BLAKELY--MOBILE--EXPLOSION OF MAGAZINE--RETURN TO NEW ORLEANS--EXPERIENCE OF DANIEL SHAW IN A TEXAS PRISON--SHREVEPORT--"SALT-HORSE" VS. SUMPTUOUSNESS--CANTANKEROUS CANS--MARCH INTO TEXAS--SAN ANTONIO--MUSTERED OUT--JUBILATION--WAR'S AFTERMATH.

"Closed is the bitter but glorious fight:
And the day like a conqueror bursts on the night."

--_Schiller._

Shortly after the Liberty raid, General Davidson, who was given command of the cavalry at Baton Rouge, organized an expedition for the purpose of destroying railroads in the territory northeast of Baton Rouge and extending in a circuit to Pascagoula Bay, Alabama, about fifty miles south-west from Mobile, in aid of Sherman's movement towards Atlanta. The command comprised the Fourth Wisconsin, Twelfth Illinois, Eighteenth New York, "Scott's Nine Hundred," and the Second Illinois Cavalry. Its course lay through a barren, sparsely settled country more or less covered with scrub and pitch-pine and interspersed with swamps. The streams were swollen and almost impassable and the roads were so bad that the expedition was compelled to abandon a number of its wagons which were burned. Forage was scarce and the men were soon reduced to quarter rations. Owing to the fact that about the only food to be found was sweet-potatoes, the expedition came to be known as "Davidson's sweet-potato raid." There were not more than a dozen shots fired upon the whole trip.

Upon our arrival at Pearl River we camped for the night and during that time ten men succeeded in swimming across with ropes with a view of bridging the stream. A few went beyond to stand guard while pontoons were laid and in an hour the cavalry was crossing. This was followed by the artillery, consisting of Nimm's Massachusetts Battery and a small train. The pontoon bridge was soon removed when our march was resumed towards Pascagoula Bay, where we arrived hungry and worn, with scarcely any food for ourselves or horses. A double-handful of corn was all that could be spared for each horse during twenty-four hours. There was no grazing and no fodder--nothing but water, sand and pine-needles. In this condition we waited for five days until a consignment of grain and rations was received by boat from Lake Port Louisiana.

In the meantime, some oyster-boats and tongs were discovered in a small bayou near the bay, which indicated the presence of oyster-beds. We improved the opportunity. There was always a rush in the early morning for an outfit. The lucky ones were soon able, however, to fill a few gunny-sacks and then give the others a chance. Those who came late would stick poles in the mud at low tide in about seven or eight feet of water and then, holding onto the poles, would go to the bottom and grope around until they found a cluster of shells which would be brought to the surface and handed to another to take to shore. Bunches were sometimes found as large as a bushel-basket. To hungry men, oysters without sauce was a most delightful substitute for nothing; but we longed for the trimmings, especially pepper. A raid upon the country soon furnished us with many strings of home-grown red-peppers. They were hot, but they served the purpose, and after three weeks of short rations we welcomed the combination; but no stretch of a Northern man's imagination was capable of bringing it up to the standard of a Northern Christmas or New Year's dinner--for both of which it had to serve.

About the last of January we embarked for Lake Port Louisiana, from whence we returned to Baton Rouge, where we remained until March, 1865. We then took boat for New Orleans and camped in Carlton until the latter part of March. From New Orleans we went upon the Mobile Expedition by way of Barancas, Florida. I did not go directly with the regiment, having been detailed to the Quartermaster's Department which went upon a later boat. When I arrived at Barancas I found that my company had gone to Fort Blakely. It was considered unsafe for us to follow without an escort, and we were ordered to remain at the former place. While there, we received the news of Lee's surrender. Everybody was elated and appeared to be walking upon air. The guns at the navy-yard belched forth national salutes and these in turn were answered by the battle-ships. All were drunk with joy. About ten o'clock the next day, in the midst of our rejoicing, an officer rode into camp and stopped to speak to the men. A large and joyous group at once gathered to hear more of the good news. The officer spoke in a low tone. The men looked eager but there were no cheers. A hush fell over the crowd. Then words--almost whispered--passed from man to man: "_Lincoln has been assassinated!_" It was a staggering, benumbing, crushing blow. The men were dazed; they could not talk. Tears were everywhere--tears and silence. The grief of the men was indescribable. But the silence was of short duration. A fool in Company B, apparently in a spirit of bravado, said that he was "glad of it." Instantly the pent up wrath of the men burst out. There was a rush to quarters for arms. An officer, seeing the situation, placed an armed guard around the man. The guard was soon doubled and the offender rushed to a boat at the water front followed by about fifty men with drawn revolvers. The man was taken to Fort McCrea for safety, where he was court-martialed and sent to the Dry Tortugas to be discharged in disgrace. This was only one of numberless instances of a similar nature which occurred at the time.

In a short time we marched across the country to Fort Blakely, from whence we were transported by boat to Mobile and went into camp near the Mobile and Ohio Railroad about four miles east of the town, where we remained for some days. Our regiment was at Columbus, Mississippi. Orders had been sent from there to Colonel Bush to forward the regimental mail and two hundred outfits of clothing. I was acting as clerk to the Regimental Quartermaster and was detailed by the Colonel to take the mail and stores to the regiment. My orders were to report to the Quartermaster in Mobile at three o'clock P.M., for a pass and instructions. In order to provide for the care of my horse, I left camp about ten o'clock and was in the eastern part of the city. My attention was attracted for a moment to an officer who was making his rounds and was being saluted by a guard near by, when a blinding flash occurred which caused my horse to rear so that I stood upon my toes in the stirrups. For an instant my strength seemed to leave me and I almost fell from the horse as he came down. Looking up, I saw an immense blaze which seemed to be a mile high, followed by great rolling cotton-like masses of clouds which flaked off into sheets. Debris of all descriptions, mingled with some human bodies, soon began to drop back to the earth. The Confederate magazine with five hundred tons of ammunition had exploded. It was a wonderful and appalling sight. The depot was blown to pieces, cotton sheds were destroyed and all of the glass in the city was broken. The Battle House, the largest hotel in the city, was wrecked and every dish in it broken. Great fissures and rents were everywhere seen in the streets and walls.

The stores, which I was to have taken away that evening, had been loaded and stood upon the street, but the wagon was overturned and all of the cases crushed.

As I rode along the street I met Captain Fred Pike of the Forty-Sixth Illinois. One of his legs had been cut by falling slate from a roof and he was hopping along by the side of a building. I dismounted and gave him my horse to go to camp.

On the following evening I started to Columbus with the supplies. The regiment had broken camp before my arrival and I met the command at Artesia, twelve miles from Columbus, where I delivered the mail but was obliged to go on to Columbus to turn over the supplies. I then returned to Mobile and there embarked for New Orleans where I was temporarily stationed at regimental headquarters at Carlton, a short distance above the city.

A day or two after my arrival, as I lay in my blankets under an orange tree, I was aroused just before daylight and gradually realized that somebody was shaking me. It proved to be Daniel Shaw, one of our company from Mount Morris, Illinois, who had been captured upon the Red River Expedition, about a year previous and confined in that horrible corral at Tyler, Texas. He hugged me frantically and wept like an hysterical child. It was a long time before he could speak; and then, amid tears and sobs he told a most harrowing and revolting story of the inconceivably brutal treatment to which he had been subjected. The prisoners were confined in an open corral or field without any shelter or protection whatever. Their food consisted of offal and discarded portions from the cattle and sheep slaughtered by their captors, who appropriated the edible parts for their own use. The most was eaten raw or in the form of a stew. The story was too revolting for repetition.

The poor fellow was a mere skeleton and in a most wretched condition. Had he not been one of the most hardy men in the regiment, he could not have survived. His experience was but another proof that "War is Hell."

From New Orleans we took steamer for Vicksburg but before we arrived at Baton Rouge, our boat took fire three times, which caused much delay. We reached our destination, however, about the tenth of June, where we joined our regiment and after a day or two, took passage on the "Superior," General Logan's old headquarters boat, for Shreveport, Louisiana. Under a general order, all companies having less than the full quota of men were required to consolidate with others. In compliance with this order our company was merged with Company E, while another took the letter A. It was the fault of the Colonel, who could have graded us fairly had he been so disposed. Although greatly dissatisfied, we were obliged to accept the situation as well as to endure other and more trying things. The men had received no pay since March and were destitute and discouraged. Under these conditions we were not in a mood to see others enjoy privileges which were denied to us.

We spent the Fourth of July at Shreveport; our only food being "salt-horse," "hard-tack" and coffee. Some of the officers failed to appreciate the condition of the men and seemed to think that it afforded no reason why they should not have a good time and good things themselves. In harmony with this view, Colonel Mizner, of the Third Michigan, who was in command of the Brigade, prepared to give a sumptuous banquet in an old church which he occupied as headquarters and which was also the office of the Brigade Quartermaster by whom I was employed. Those who were compelled to confine their diet to salt-horse and hard-tack were not in sympathy with the spread and not averse to having it known. Through the concerted action of several hundred apparently inanimate oyster-cans belonging to our regiment, the Third Michigan and the Fourth Wisconsin, those innocent receptacles seemed to become suddenly endowed with life, became mysteriously filled with powder and succeeded in burying themselves in a kind of under-ground cordon around that church. The first course had scarcely been served and the banqueters were just enjoying their whiskey and other appetizers, when the cans registered a protest. The opening of the ground around that sanctuary was suggestive of the resurrection morn. The officers rushed out of the room in the wildest confusion. Persistent inquiry failed to develop the cause. After fruitless efforts they went back to finish their collation and had barely begun to taste the good things again, when the cans once more showed their cantankerousness. Pandemonium broke loose with ten times more din than ever. The banquet was called off and the officers ordered to their respective companies to "preserve order." It had its effect. The men were as demure as monks in a monastery. While perfect order was preserved by them, an astonishing amount of disorder was still "preserved" in the oyster-cans and the preserves--like all preserves subjected to too much warmth--continued to "work." From that time on, all through the night, the mysterious process went on. The hint was effectual. There were no more officer's banquets in the presence of the ill-fed and dissatisfied men.

On the ninth of July, 1865, we left Shreveport and took up our long and tiresome march of six hundred miles to San Antonio, Texas. Through Louisiana it was not especially trying; but when we reached Texas and were obliged to travel over barren wastes, frequently as far as sixty miles without finding a drop of water, it seemed unendurable. A tropical mid-summer sun burned its way through the sky and onto the dusty, treeless plains until the heat-waves quivered upon the horizon like a blast from a furnace. Horses and men suffered intensely. One stretch of about one hundred miles east of Austin was especially trying. It was a continuous test of endurance from the time we left Shreveport until we arrived at San Antonio, thirty days later. During the march, small towns were sometimes passed where Confederate companies turned over their arms to our command.

Upon our arrival at San Antonio, there appeared to be nothing to do but to wait. Aside from inspection and drills, the men idled in camp until they became so discontented and homesick that many deserted. Most of these were fine men and good soldiers but poor loafers. Nobody blamed them. All realized that the war was over and were looking for discharge. Instead of that we had been sent hundreds of miles over a barren waste to the frontier under most trying and discouraging conditions. Why was all this senseless wandering? We did not know. We were not aware that secret history was being made and that we were instrumental, as a result of these apparently meaningless acts, in saving the nation a second time. We did not know that our country was upon the verge of a foreign war, and that Napoleon the Third, anxious to regain the Louisiana Territory, which the First Emperor in his dire need had sold to us for a song, had been making elaborate preparations for war; and, believing our people to be exhausted, as they appeared to be, by one of the greatest conflicts of history and torn by internal strife, would be unable to make more than a feeble defence, had chosen this moment to strike. We did not know that our government was then undergoing one of the most trying ordeals of its existence. Later developments showed that the sudden mobilization on the frontier of an army of tried veterans, ready if necessary, to fight another war, made the foreigners gasp. France and Austria and Maximillian quietly subsided and the map of the United States required no revision.

About the tenth of November, 1865, the order came to muster out the Second and Tenth Illinois and the Fourth Wisconsin Cavalry. It was the signal for a jubilation. The yells of ten thousand Indians would have been "audible silence" compared to the noise made by those four regiments. The Tenth Illinois sutler rolled out four barrels of whiskey and broke in the heads. Tin cups, camp-kettles, canteens and every liquid holding thing was used for its distribution. How many were drunk I know not. Men indulged who never tasted the stuff before; and, strange to say, the whole thing took the form of a good natured frolic. Horse-play, clownish tricks, songs, practical jokes--all were taken as a part of the fun. Had we realized what we had been there for, we might have been heard in France.

Instead of sleeping in tents, the men had previously procured raw cow-hides which they made into hammocks and stretched in the trees. Each cow-hide served as a hammock for two and some trees would have five or six in a tier. As the boys became tired of celebrating they would slip off to bed; but they could not escape the watchfulness of the others who would wait until they could get a tree full, when some sly rascal would climb the tree, cut the thongs and the whole combination would come down in a heap; the victims apparently enjoying the joke as much as the jokers. I have never seen drunken men retain their good nature as they did on that occasion.

On the 24th of November, 1865, we were mustered out. I remained in Texas to aid in settling up the Quartermaster's accounts but was obliged to return North on account of a severe attack of ague and arrived at Rochelle on the 21st of March, 1866.

In the meantime, there had been a general exodus of soldiers from the South to their northern homes and the transportation lines, particularly the river steamers, were crowded with them. The feeling among those who represented the lost-cause, was intensely bitter and no Union soldier was safe anywhere in the South. A secret organization known as "The Knights of the Golden Circle," was charged as being responsible for many assassinations and other outrages. It was significant of conditions, that boiler explosions and other "accidents" occurred to a number of river steamers--all upon homeward voyages and all loaded with discharged Union soldiers. The most appalling of these was probably that of the "Sultana" which was lost at a point about fifty miles above Memphis on its passage up the Mississippi. While in midstream the boiler exploded--caused, it was believed by an explosive secretly placed in the fuel--and nearly all of the passengers, numbering about fifteen hundred, mostly discharged soldiers, were drowned.

Among the victims of the disaster was J. A. Butterfield of Company A, whose home was in Oregon, Illinois. Butterfield had just been admitted to practice at the Oregon Bar, when the war broke out. He enlisted at the organization of the Company in Oregon, was present at the first election of officers and served earnestly and faithfully during the term of his three years enlistment, after which he was appointed as chief citizen clerk for a Division Quartermaster at a considerable salary. At the close of the war he resigned his position and started home with the intention of announcing his candidacy for Sheriff of Ogle County. His body was never recovered. It was known that he had a large sum of money in his possession which would have been a great aid to the dependent mother and sister whom he left behind. Butterfield was a brave and manly soldier and a general favorite with the members of his company.

Bitter as was the feeling against the Northern soldiers, it did not approach in vindictiveness and malignant hatred, that which existed against Southern men who fought upon the Union side. There were two Southerners in our company: John S. Elder and James Neiley whose experiences were typical of those of thousands throughout the South. Elder was a native of Tennessee. About three years before the war he migrated with his parents to Denton County, Texas. His father was a staunch supporter of the Union and did not hesitate to announce his principles. His attitude was well known in the community where he lived and as partizan feeling increased, he became a marked man. At the outbreak of hostilities, he was called to Austin and was never afterwards seen by his friends. While there was no proof as to the cause of his mysterious disappearance, circumstances pointed to but one conclusion. To his family, no proof was necessary: they _knew_ what had happened. Shortly after the father's loss, John, an only son, was forced into the Confederate service. He was discreet and bided his time. At the battle of Prairie Grove, he escaped, made his way into the Union lines and succeeded in reaching St. Louis. This was shortly after the battle at Holly Springs, at which a portion of the Second Illinois Cavalry gained wide distinction by refusing to surrender to greatly superior numbers. Elder was looking for a chance to fight by the side of fighting men. Seeing in the St. Louis papers a graphic account of the Holly Springs incident, he immediately embarked for Memphis in the hope of finding the regiment. He was too late however and went on to the vicinity of Vicksburg where he was informed that Company A was with General Logan at Lake Providence. Arriving at the latter place, he presented himself to Captain Hotaling with whom he had a long conference. Hotaling was strongly impressed by Elder's bearing and words and the conference resulted in his immediate enlistment. The new recruit proved to be a valuable acquisition. He was a skillful horseman, an unerring shot, always cheerful and courteous, ready to perform the most arduous duty and, withal, fearless.

Shortly after his enlistment the company started upon the campaign in the rear of Vicksburg. Elder was wounded at the Battle of Port Gibson during the first day of the campaign but went on with the command and participated in every hardship and engagement until the surrender of Vicksburg. He was with the company in all of its campaigning in Louisiana and was one of the twenty-two who re-enlisted at New Iberia. Debarred from his home, he was adopted by the veterans of the company as a "war orphan"; and, when veteran furloughs were granted, accompanied his comrades to the North where he was the subject of universal sympathy and generous hospitality.

Elder returned with his friends to the front and remained a valiant, fearless fighter to the end. During the last fight in which the company was engaged, which occurred at Fort Blakely, a charge was made upon the Confederate works. The latter were protected by an abatis in which torpedoes were placed and so connected by wires that an abnormal tension upon a wire would cause an explosion. Elder was mounted upon a fine horse which ran against one of these wires directly over a torpedo. The explosion which followed tore the horse into shreds, but, owing to the intervention of its body, did not kill but only served to stun the rider who soon recovered from the shock.

When the regiment was mustered out at San Antonio, Texas, Elder wished to go home and visit his mother; but upon the advice of friends and some old citizens of San Antonio, he gave it up as involving too great a risk and accompanied his comrades to Rochelle, where he remained until the following spring when his anxiety to see his mother caused him to return to Texas. It was a fatal step. As soon as his presence became known, a party of ex-Confederates assembled at night, surrounded the mother's house, captured the son, hanged him to a tree and riddled the body with bullets.

James Neiley who was reared in western Louisiana had a similar experience. He found his way into the Union lines during the Red River Expedition, and upon the return of General Banks' Army, enlisted in Company A. Neiley was quite young but proved himself an excellent and faithful soldier, was liked and respected by all of his comrades, and served with credit to the end of the war when he went to Rochelle with the others. In the following year he returned with Elder and went to his home near Alexandria, Louisiana, where he had been about a week when he met with the same dreadful fate that had been meted out to his friend.

And so perished two manly souls--victims to the terrible aftermath of war. Can there be compensation for such unspeakable atrocities which take the best and leave the worst? It may be; but this is a grist for "the mills of the Gods" to grind.

And now--my tale is told. My sole excuse for telling it is that others, who might have done it have not made the attempt, and but few are left. I offer no apology for its crudities, imperfections or omissions. I am confident that our Company engaged in not less than a hundred skirmishes and encounters of which I have made no mention. The space which should have been allotted to it in the Red River Expedition is almost a blank. My silence as to many individual deeds of valor and self-sacrifice has not been intentional. I would gladly have called the roll and enumerated them one by one, for it would have been a roll of honor of which all might be justly proud.

The worth of my story, if it has worth, lies in what it has preserved to the world as worthy. If it be interesting at all, it is because it has been done as a work of love in an attempt to do justice to, and to preserve some faint memory of a handful of men who were typical of that great host--some of whom gave all--and all of whom risked all, for a cause which has struggled towards the light since the first man gazed longingly and reverently at the stars.

In the outcome of the great struggle, both sides won an equal victory, our friends, as the liberators of a race, our foes as the liberated from a degrading curse; a success and a defeat which made victor and vanquished alike the beneficiaries of a great inheritance; an inheritance, sanctified by a higher hope and a broader love; an inheritance founded in the conviction of the regal souls of the past that that for which man has so long wrought amid travail and pain and joy and woe and sighs and tears and blood, "shall not perish from the earth," but that this nation shall be its sponsor and its incarnation and may say to all the lands of the earth, "Right is eternal; it must and shall reign; 'Your people shall be my people.'"

"Here shall a realm rise
Mighty in manhood."

It has not fully arisen yet and many watchers are losing faith in view of the subtle and dangerous perils which now beset it. Those causing them may triumph for a time but they are sowers of dragon's teeth which will rise up as armed men to their defeat. The universe is not a blunder; there is a power in it which makes for right; and the finger wielded by that power, has always pointed and still points--to the Morning Star.

"Truth forever on the scaffold,--Wrong forever on the throne,--
Yet that scaffold sways the future,--and beyond the dim Unknown
Standeth God within the shadow,--keeping watch upon His own."

COLONEL SILAS NOBLE.

Colonel Silas Noble was born in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, on February 19th, 1808. But little is known of his early history, further than that he read law, and at the age of twenty-six, was admitted to practice in his native town. In the following year he moved to Towanda, Pennsylvania, where he continued the practice of his profession until 1841, when he emigrated to Dixon, Illinois, then a frontier town known as Dixon's Ferry. In 1846 he was elected State Senator and served one term. In 1853 he established a private bank in Dixon known as "S. Noble & Co." In connection with this business he continued the practice of law until the breaking out of the Rebellion in 1861. When the second call for troops was made by President Lincoln Mr. Noble offered his services to Governor Yates, by whom he was appointed Colonel of the Second Illinois Cavalry, and on July 21st, 1861, was mustered into service.

Colonel Noble was a warm personal friend of President Lincoln, who often visited him at his home and with whom he practiced his profession. At the time of Lincoln's inauguration the Colonel accompanied him on his trip from Springfield to Washington.

Colonel Noble remained with the main body of the Regiment, which made an expedition with General C. F. Smith towards Fort Henry; and it was upon the information thus obtained that the campaign was decided upon which ultimately led to the capture of Forts Henry and Donelson.

The regiment was engaged in many scouting expeditions and other movements under the leadership of its first commander, but took part in no important battles. On one occasion, with 350 men, Colonel Noble took the advance of a recognizance in force from Bolivar to La Grange, Tennessee, and obtained much valuable information. He was mustered out of the service on February 16th, 1863, shortly after which he met with a severe accident from which he never fully recovered. Four years later, on February 3rd, 1867, he died at his home in Dixon, Illinois, from an acute attack of pneumonia. Colonel Noble had a wide acquaintance and was highly honored in his home community and by all who knew him.

LIEUTENANT COLONEL HARVEY HOGG.

Harvey Hogg was a native of Tennessee, having been born at Carthage, Smith County, in that state on September 14th, 1833. His parents were of Scotch descent. The mother died when he was about three years of age. Afterwards, the father remarried. He lived but a short time, however, and died in 1840, leaving Harvey and a half-brother, Grant A. Hogg, in charge of the widow. The boy was carefully reared by his step-mother and given the best schooling available, preparatory to a college course. He took the lead in his class at Emory and Henry College, Virginia, where he won a prize-medal for oratory and was afterwards graduated at the law-school at Lebanon as valedictorian of his class.

He was married at Clarksville, Tennessee, in 1855, and in a short time removed to Bloomington, Illinois, where he was admitted to the Bar and soon obtained a recognized standing as a young lawyer of ability and promise. For several years he held the position of City Attorney and was, later, elected Prosecuting Attorney for that judicial district, which position he filled with honor, ability and dignity.

As a native of Tennessee, Colonel Hogg inherited slaves, but was opposed to the institution. As a student in one of the Virginia colleges, he chose as the subject of a thesis, "The Evils of Slavery." This aroused the indignation and opposition of the faculty; but the young man insisted that he should "speak his honest convictions or not at all," and he did. Upon leaving Tennessee, he freed his last slave.

From the time of his advent in Illinois, he took a warm interest in the slavery question, aided in the formation of the Republican party, and in 1856, canvassed McLean County for "Freemont and Freedom." In the senatorial contest of 1858, he supported Lincoln as against Douglas and used his utmost efforts for the election of the latter as President.

Colonel Hogg was a popular anti-slavery speaker. His intimate familiarity with slavery, his love for and understanding of the Southern people and his appreciation of their entanglement with that blighting institution, enabled him to present his side of the case with great fairness, force and conviction. Governor Yates was so strongly impressed with his ability that, upon the organization of the Second Illinois Cavalry, he tendered him the position of Lieutenant Colonel. It was at once accepted, and on July 24th, 1861, he was mustered into the service.

While his regiment was stationed in Tennessee, Mrs. Hogg went there to be near him, but died soon after her arrival. This was a severe blow to her husband who was devotedly attached to her.

During the winter of 1861-2, the regiment was stationed at Paducah, Kentucky, where much scouting was done. On the night of March 2nd, 1862, Lieutenant Colonel Hogg with two hundred men, started out in an attempt to reconnoiter Columbus, Kentucky. Upon the following day they learned that the place was being evacuated. Reaching it about sundown, they dashed into the town with drawn sabers and ran up the stars and stripes. Several large guns and a considerable quantity of military stores were secured. Upon the following day, General Sherman, with a fleet of gunboats and transports and three regiments of infantry, steamed carefully down the river and was surprised to find the place in possession of the Union forces.

On March 31st, 1862, Colonel Hogg, with two companies of his regiment, took part in an expedition under General Quimby in the neighborhood of Union City, Tennessee, in which they dispersed a Confederate brigade, destroyed its camp-equipage and captured fourteen prisoners and a considerable quantity of stores.

On July 4th, 1862, at Trenton, Tennessee, Colonel Hogg delivered an address to the citizens of that place and vicinity which produced a marked effect upon those who were in doubt and did much to aid the Union cause.

This valiant soldier met his death at the battle of Bolivar, Tennessee, on August 30th, 1862. Colonel M. D. Leggett, of the 78th Ohio, being at that place, was attacked by a large force of Confederates, including the Second Missouri Cavalry, commanded by Colonel Robert McCullough and the First Mississippi Cavalry, of which Colonel Hogg's half brother, Dr. Grant A. Hogg, was surgeon. The following report of the battle is given by Colonel Leggett:

"The infantry reinforcements had not arrived. The balance of the
Seventy-eighth Ohio was reported close by, but not near enough to
support the artillery, hence it could not be used. At this point,
Lieut. Col. Harvey Hogg, of the Second Illinois Cavalry, came up
with orders from you to report to me upon the field with four
companies of his command. I immediately assigned him a position
upon the right of the road, but discovering that the enemy would
probably make a cavalry charge upon us before Colonel Force could
reach me from Van Buren Road, I asked Colonel Hogg if he could hold
a position on the left of the road and a little to the front of
where he then was, against a charge from the rebel cavalry. He
promptly said he could and besought me to give him the position,
which was done.

"He had not completed his change of place before the enemy charged
down the line of the road in vast numbers, but meeting the deadly
fire of the four infantry companies under command of Captain
Chandler, they were compelled to retreat, leaving many of their men
and horses strewn upon the ground.

"They twice repeated their attempt to get possession of the road
and were both times repulsed by the companies under Captain
Chandler. Then they threw down the fences and entered the field
upon our left and opened fire upon Colonel Hogg's cavalry and the
two companies of the Twentieth Ohio attached to Captain Chandler's
command. The infantry and cavalry returned the fire briskly and
with terrible effect. I then discovered that a full regiment of
cavalry was forming in the rear of those firing upon us, with the
determination of charging upon our cavalry and that portion of the
infantry on the left of the road. I said to Colonel Hogg if he had
any doubt about holding his position he had better fall back and
not receive their charge. He promptly replied: 'Colonel Leggett,
for God's sake don't order me back.' I replied, 'Meet them with a
charge, Colonel, and may Heaven bless you.' He immediately ordered
his men to draw their sabers, and after giving them the order to
'Forward,' he exclaimed, 'Give them cold steel, boys,' and darting
ahead of his men, he fell, pierced by nine balls."

Dr. Grant A. Hogg, in a letter to William K. Baldwin, bearing date March 19th, 1900, writes:

"* * * Gen. Bob. McCullough, now of Boonsville, Missouri, was in
command of the regiment that killed my brother. * * * He (Col.
Hogg) was trying hard to get to Col. McCullough to kill him with
his saber and if it had not been for three of McCullough's men who
shot him, he would have killed McCullough."

Colonel Hogg's charge resulted in driving the enemy from the field and winning the battle at a time when the outlook seemed hopeless.

William M. Baldwin, who was a member of Company K, and knew the Colonel well, has given the following estimate of his character:

"Colonel Hogg was the picture of manly strength and soldierly
bearing; about six feet in height, compactly built, erect, moving
with the easy step of an athlete as if he delighted in action, a
superb horseman, black hair, dark eyes and swarthy complexion;
loved by his men for his ever courteous conduct to them and trusted
by them for his bravery and courage, had he not been thus early cut
down in his military career he would no doubt have achieved high
military honors and placed himself beside the great cavalry leaders
of the war."

COLONEL JOHN J. MUDD.

Colonel John J. Mudd was born on the ninth of January, 1820, in St. Charles County, Missouri, where his parents had emigrated during the previous year from Kentucky. When John was twelve years of age, his father died from an attack of Asiatic cholera, and within a few months thereafter the widow, with six children, moved to Pike County, Illinois, and located near Pittsfield where they thereafter made their home.

In 1850 Colonel Mudd made an over-land trip to California, returned by sea, and during the following year made a second over-land trip. Many of the emigrants were unprovided for the long and tedious journey and would have faced starvation had not Colonel Mudd generously divided his supplies with them until they were exhausted.

In 1854 Mr. Mudd moved to St. Louis, where he established an extensive mercantile business as well as a reputation for integrity and public spirit. In 1859, he moved with his family and business to Chicago, where, shortly after the outbreak of the war, he enlisted as a member of the Second Illinois Cavalry, and on September 23rd, 1861, received his commission as Second Major.

Major Mudd was stationed for a time at Paducah, Kentucky, and participated in the subsequent campaigns in Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi.

Immediately after the surrender of Fort Donelson, Major Mudd was informed that a man had just left with important papers. Mudd followed in the hope of overtaking the man, and in doing so, passed beyond the Federal lines. He had gone but a short distance when he met a citizen who asked for protection, which was granted. As the two were riding towards Dover, they were joined by two others who also asked for protection. While engaged in conversation with them the first one fell in the rear, drew his revolver and fired at the Major. The bullet struck near the spine but the wound was not fatal. The Major immediately put spurs to his horse, when the man fired a second time but without effect, and then fled.

Upon his way to our lines, the Major, while suffering intensely from his wound and weak from the loss of blood, captured a rebel officer and, being loath to risk further bullets in the back, compelled him to ride into camp in advance.

Owing to the confusion following the surrender of the fort, the Major had much difficulty in finding a surgeon to examine and dress his wound. It was decided not to extract the bullet, and he carried it until his death. The wound healed slowly and he never fully recovered from its effects.

After a short leave of absence, the Major was ordered on detached service upon the staff of General McClernand, where he remained until that officer was relieved from his command at the surrender of Vicksburg.

Major Mudd participated in the operations at the siege of Corinth; and during the following winter was with his regiment in that neighborhood. At the battle of Holly Springs, after the cowardly surrender of the place by Colonel Murphy, he not only refused to surrender, but, with a small detachment of his men, cut his way through the rebel lines by which the post had been surrounded, and escaped. His conduct upon that occasion won the respect and admiration of his men. His fighting spirit was shown by capturing a considerable number of prisoners while his own detachment was escaping from a large pursuing body.

On December 31st, 1862, Major Mudd was promoted to the position of Lieutenant Colonel, to fill the vacancy formed by the resignation of Lieutenant Quincy McNeil; and a few weeks later, when Colonel Noble was mustered out of the service, he was promoted to fill the latter's position.

Colonel Mudd was actively engaged in the Vicksburg campaign and participated in every battle from Port Gibson to that of Black River Bridge.

During the siege of Vicksburg, his command was engaged in guarding the rear to prevent an attack by Johnson. Shortly before the surrender, while reconnoitering in the Black River swamp, he was shot by one of the enemy from a concealed position. One bullet struck below the left eye and lodged near the ear, while another struck near the collar-bone and passed nearly out through the shoulder. His aides supported him upon his horse and enabled him to escape capture. He bled profusely and suffered much but retained consciousness and sufficient strength to permit his removal to a place of safety at the house of a widow who did all in her power to render him comfortable until the arrival of a surgeon. He was sent to his home, where he soon recovered and again reported for duty at New Orleans, where his command was then stationed.

Colonel Mudd, as Acting Brigadier General, was given command of a brigade of cavalry in the Bayou Teche campaign under General Banks. There was much fighting and skirmishing of which the Colonel's men bore the brunt. The health of their leader became so impaired from hardship and exposure that he was forced to return to New Orleans. Upon his arrival there he received an order to recruit his regiment, and immediately went to Springfield, Illinois, where he opened a recruiting office. Upon filling the ranks, he returned with his men to New Orleans, from whence he was ordered to Baton Rouge. At the latter place he received an order from General Banks to report without delay as Chief of Staff to General McClernand at Alexandria, Louisiana. On the first of May, 1864, he embarked upon the steamer "City-Belle," for Alexandria. Three days after, at Dunne's Bayou, upon the Red River, a band of guerrillas opened fire upon the steamer from a masked battery at close range. There were but two guns but they were enough for the purpose. The second shot broke the pilot-wheel and killed the pilot. Another caused an explosion of one of the boilers and the boat became unmanageable. This had barely occurred, when Colonel Speigle, of the 120th Ohio Infantry, senior officer in command, was killed. Colonel Mudd then assumed command and ordered the engineer to run the boat ashore to permit a dash upon the enemy. All efforts to accomplish this failed. After the fifth shot, the enemy fired grape and canister and the execution was appalling. In the hope of pulling the vessel to land, Colonel Mudd put a life-preserver upon one of the men who swam ashore with the line. At this juncture Colonel Mudd was instantly killed by a shot in the forehead as he stood upon the boat giving orders.

Could the vessel have been landed, the guerrillas, who were greatly inferior in numbers, might easily have been driven off or captured. There was no alternative, however, and the vessel was surrendered. Of the six hundred soldiers on board, all but about one hundred and sixty were either killed or captured. The others escaped; Daniel Bates, who carried the line ashore, and the Colonel's orderly being among the number, and made their way to Alexandria. The guerrillas burned the boat and robbed both living and dead. All of the latter, except one, being stripped of their clothing. And here occurred one of those inexplicable things, of which examples may be found all through history, indicating how closely the highest and most admirable characteristics of men are intertwined with the most shockingly brutal ones. Colonel Mudd, whose commission as Acting Brigadier General was in his pocket, was buried in his uniform and his name marked upon the grave.

Upon the retreat of our army, the grave was discovered and the body disinterred and removed to New Orleans in care of Lieutenant J. S. McHenry of Company A, Second Illinois Cavalry, where it was embalmed and taken to the General's home at Pittsfield, Illinois, for burial.

At a meeting of the Second Illinois Cavalry, held at Baton Rouge, Louisiana, on May 22nd, 1864, to render respect to the memory of its former commander, the highest tribute was paid to him both as a soldier and a man.

General Mudd was kind, genial, fair-minded, manly, loyal and true and possessed a moral courage not always associated with physical bravery. This characteristic is well illustrated by an incident which occurred shortly before the outbreak of the war. In December, 1860, he was at the St. Charles Hotel in New Orleans. Feeling among the slave-holders was at high tension. It became known that Mr. Mudd, who was then a Chicago merchant, had voted for Lincoln, and those present insisted that he should express his views. He did so, frankly, fairly and fearlessly; closing with the statement: "The loyal North, with the loyal people of the South, will preserve the Union and sustain Mr. Lincoln as President at any cost."

A citizen, Mr. Anthony Coyle, who heard him, said: "This was the most loyal act performed by any man in the city while I was there"; adding, "Colonel Mudd expressed his views with the best of judgment and intelligence and made a lasting impression upon the minds of friend and foe." It was not enough, however, to be fair. Sectional hatred had passed all bounds and Mr. Mudd was driven from the hotel and from the city.

There were a few loyal men in New Orleans at the time who had aided in protecting Northern men and in helping them to leave the place. These, of whom Mr. Coyle was one, helped Mr. Mudd to escape in safety, but not until he had had the satisfaction of saying to those who drove him out and threatened his life, "I shall come again when I can publicly express my sentiments and announce for whom I have voted without fear of being murdered by a mob of traitors." Nothing could have been more gratifying to him than the subsequent realization that his prophecy had been fulfilled.

By a strange coincidence, about one year after this occurrence, Mr. Coyle enlisted in Colonel Mudd's regiment.

Colonel Mudd was survived by a widow and daughter. The latter, Ella Webb Mudd, who attended a reunion held at Pittsfield, Illinois, in 1893, was adopted as "Daughter of the Regiment." In reply to the vote of adoption, she said:

"Gentlemen, Comrades of my father: I wonder if you all know how
unprepared I am for this call to come before you; to be sure, I was
told a day or so ago that this would probably be done tonight but I
did not know until this afternoon that I was expected to appear in
it.

"However, a soldier's daughter should have some courage and
certainly I may try, without apology, to tell you how thoroughly I
appreciate the honor you have just given me--the highest in your
power. And yet more highly I value the motive which prompted your
action, for right well do I know that it is not for myself, but
springs from your love and devotion to my father, and by it you
give additional proof that his memory is still fresh in your
hearts.

"As I have met one and another of you, and read the many letters to
my mother and myself from Comrades we have never seen, I have
realized more and more how you loved him and what he was to you--as
one so beautifully expressed it--'Not only our commander, but
friend and brother as well.' So is it any wonder that I am glad to
see you?

"Let me once more thank you for what you have done--thank you in
the name of my father--for all who knew him, either in the army or
otherwise, know how well he would have enjoyed these occasions, and
how this would have gratified him;--so, for him, my mother and
myself, I thank you, and believe me, I shall ever proudly bear the
title of 'Daughter of the Regiment' to which he belonged."

The record of General Mudd is his epitaph. This can never be taken away, and to attempt to add to it by words would lessen its soldierly dignity.

COLONEL BENJAMIN F. MARSH.

Benjamin F. Marsh was a native of the State which he served as a soldier. He was born in Warsaw County, Illinois, on November 19th, 1835. Reared upon a farm, he received the rudiments of an education in the public schools and subsequently spent four years at Jubilee College, but did not complete the course. Mr. Marsh was admitted to the Bar in 1860 and commenced practice in his native county; but the rebellion soon served to change his occupation.

Early in the beginning of the war Mr. Marsh organized a cavalry company and tendered his services with that of the company to Governor Yates. The latter was unable to accept the offer owing to the fact that cavalry was not included in President Lincoln's call; whereupon Mr. Marsh at once enlisted as a private in the Sixteenth Illinois Infantry, in which regiment he was chosen as Quarter-Master. The regiment was sent to Missouri: and shortly after its arrival, Quarter-Master Marsh was recalled by a telegram from Governor Yates, offering to accept his company of cavalry. He immediately returned to his home at Warsaw and recruited the company afterwards known as Company G of the Second Illinois Cavalry, of which he was elected Captain.

The brave, dashing, manly and noble qualities of Captain Marsh caused him to be popular with his superior officers as well as with his men, and he received rapid advancement. He was promoted to the position of Major on December 31st, 1862, Lieutenant Colonel, on May 3rd, 1864, and Colonel, on August 29th, 1865.

Colonel Marsh was engaged in active service in the first and second Vicksburg campaigns and did much towards saving his command and others in the unfortunate and humiliating Red River Expedition. At Holly Springs he refused to be surrendered by the officer in command, and after cutting his way with a small detachment through the line by which they were surrounded, charged through another body and made a juncture with Major Bush, whereupon the two detachments charged back through the rebel lines, released their comrades who had been captured, and again cut their way out. During this engagement he received three severe wounds but kept on fighting.

Upon one occasion upon the Red River Expedition, a shell exploded directly over his head and a fragment from it killed his horse. Of four gun-shot wounds, he carried the lead of a part of them throughout his life. With the exception of Virginia, and North and South Carolina, he campaigned in every State of the Confederacy.

Colonel Marsh was mustered out of the service in January, 1866 and returned to his home where he resumed the practice of law. In 1876 he was elected to Congress as the representative of his District, which position he held for three successive terms until 1883. After a period of retirement, he was again elected for four successive terms.

During the Spanish American war, he was offered a commission by President McKinley as Brigadier General, but refused it owing to the slight prospect for active service.

Colonel Marsh was a large land-holder in his native County, and at the time of his death, was the owner of the farm upon which he was born. He died at his home in Warsaw on June 2nd, 1905, honored, respected and loved for what he was and what he did.

MAJOR JOHN R. HOTALING.

John R. Hotaling (or Houghtaling, as originally spelled) was born in Sharon, Schoharie County, New York, on March 3rd, 1824. His parents were of the old "Knickerbocker" stock and he inherited the sturdy, persistent and manly characteristics of his race. At the age of fifteen, he was "bound out" for three years as an apprentice to a printer; but after serving for eighteen months, he bought his "time" and went to New York City where, after numerous disappointments, he obtained employment in a printing office and worked at the trade for a year. At the end of the year he went abroad with a Captain Hitchcock, with whose family he had become acquainted, and during an absence of five months, visited Antwerp, Rotterdam and other European cities.