I should soon have to give him up and get another. Four or five miles from the New London the horse broke down entirely, and I was obliged to abandon him and proceed on foot until I could "confiscate" another horse. I soon found I was in great danger of being "confiscated" myself.

GUNBOATS AND MORTARS ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

I just got into the woods in time, as half a dozen guerillas came along the road, evidently going to inspect the condition of the New London and her crew. I was now obliged to go along very carefully. In the next four hours I made about three miles. I concluded to hail the first darky I saw and see if I couldn't be secreted until I deemed it safe to go on. I also wanted to get some sleep, as I intended traveling all night. At last I found a negro who could give me a place to sleep for a while, and a little something to eat. I told him to wake me at midnight, as I must again be off towards New Orleans. I got all the information I could from

him, but saw no prospect of getting a horse. I got up at midnight and went on my way. It was a pitch-dark night, and I moved as rapidly as the circumstances would permit. I heard footsteps and voices once or twice, but found no difficulty in concealing myself.

I suppose I had made about ten miles when daylight began to appear. I met another darky, who gave me shelter and thought he could arrange so I might get a horse. I had certainly not been in the hut more than a few minutes when we heard the approach of horsemen. The darky told me to lie down on the bed, and "de ole woman "' would "kiver" me. She did, sure enough. She weighed about 200 pounds, and threw herself on top of me. This had hardly been done when the soldiers entered the hut. They had heard

of me on the road, and were determined to capture me. The darky told them there was nobody in the cabin but "de ole woman;" that she had the rheumatism so bad she couldn't move, etc., etc. I was hoping they would leave soon. It was only a question as to whether I should be smothered or captured.

At last, to my great joy, they disappeared, and I was released from a very uncomfortable position. I was obliged to remain perdu most of the day. The darky promised he would have a horse for me before sundown, and, sure enough, he did. I had no saddle-only a halter. However, I was so glad to get the necessity I cheerfully dispensed with the luxuries, and started off after dark, down the road, on a dead run. I

concluded it was my only chance. I judge I had made about ten miles when I thought I heard horses in pursuit, and at once jumped from my horse, gave him a smart cut with a switch, and sent him running down the road. I then concealed myself and waited to see what was to come. I knew if horsemen were after me they must soon overtake me, as my horse was pretty well tired out.

Soon I heard the horsemen close at hand. There were five of them, and at the gait they were going I thought they would get up with my horse in about twenty minutes. He, of course, being relieved from my weight, would go much faster. I followed along after them as fast as I could go, intending, as soon as they caught my horse, or I heard them returning, to quietly drop overboard and float down stream until I could, with safety, go ashore.

It turned out just as I had expected, only the horse must have given them a longer chase. I concealed myself behind the levee and awaited their return. I hoped I would not be obliged to take to the water, as that would deprive me of the use of my revolver, my only weapon of offence. It was a long time before they returned. They had evidently been searching for me farther down the road and had given up the task as hopeless. They never for a moment thought I was concealed so far from the place they had

overtaken the horse.

My progress now was, of necessity, very slow, as I had to exercise the utmost care and caution. New Orleans seemed a terrible distance away.

I doubt if I made more than a mile an hour for the next half dozen of hours. I was in a very ticklish position. I kept on my way as best I could, running where I thought I had a clear field, and hiding, resting, and walking alternately. nately. I made up my mind that if I got through this adventure safely it would be the last of the sort I would undertake. (I made two or three others, just such trips, subsequently.) Proceeding as described above for the next three days, without anything startling taking place, I arrived safely in New Orleans the most completely "played-out" fellow you ever saw. I delivered my despatches to Admiral Farragut, and was very highly complimented by that glorious and gallant officer.

Captain M. B. Woolsey, U. S. N., says: cheerfulness with which

"The

volunteered

to perform this hazardous duty, and the energetic and successful manner in which he performed it, would certainly have been noticed by the government had my report, in which the circumstances were stated, been received. The distance performed by was eighty-five

miles, and through the enemy's country."

Admiral D. G. Farragut wrote on the subject as follows: "I distinctly remember that this officer was very active and energetic in conveying despatches on the Mississippi River in 1863, and I therefore cheerfully endorse his conduct during that period (as set forth by his commanding officer), and consider him well entitled to government recognition."

L'

NE of the finest examples of patriotic American oratory was the address delivered by Colonel Charles Marshall at the tomb of our great soldierstatesman on May 30, 1892. This address has never been published in permanent form, and the veterans North and South have thus been deprived of the privilege of preserving for their own delight and for the inspiration of their children one of the most brilliantly patriotic orations our literature affords.

Colonel Marshall was the military and confidential secretary of General Robert E. Lee, and is the grand-nephew of the great Chief Justice John Marshall, of the United States Supreme Court. He

is now a resident of

Baltimore, and is

recognized as the leader of the bar in

that city.

This oration was delivered in the presence of a vast assemblage, made up in part of veteran organizations, among which was the Confederate Veteran Camp of New York. The full text is as follows:

OF

I know nothing in history that resembles the close of the war between the States. No more bitter and obstinate conflict was ever waged between different nations or different parts of the same nation. Millions of men had been in arms against each other; myriads had perished on each side, and countless treasure had been expended. Yet in a moment the mighty struggle ended and peace was proclaimed throughout the land. So suddenly did the great army of combatants disappear that

"It seemed as if their mother earth
Had swallowed up her warlike birth."

It is not easy to express the thoughts that the scene before me inspires in my mind and in the mind of every man who understands the full meaning of this occasion.

Men who once were arrayed against each other in deadly strife are now met together to do honor to the memory of one who led one part of this audience to a complete and absolute victory over the other, yet in the hearts of the victors there is no feeling of triumph, and in the hearts of the vanquished there is no bitterness, no humiliation. Both look back across the tempestuous sea of blood and tears that separate the old from the new order of things, and both rejoice that the voyage is ended and they have safely arrived in a haven of lasting security and peace.

No such peace as our peace ever followed immediately upon such a war as our war. The exhausted South was completely at the mercy of the victorious North, and yet the sound of the last gun had scarcely died away when not only peace, but peace and good-will were re-established, and the victors and the vanquished took up the work of repairing the damages of war and advancing the common welfare of the whole country, as if the old relations, social, commer

cial, and political, between the people of the two sections had never been disturbed.

Not only was the union of the States restored, but, what was far more important, the union of the people was re-established, to be broken, please God, no more forever. To my mind this is the most striking event connected with the war and it is one which generations yet unborn shall

rise up and bless. When we remember the legacy of hate and revenge that successful war has usually left between the victor and the vanquished, a hate that in some cases has outlived centuries,

"The unconquerable will

And study of revenge, immortal hate;

and when we remember that such a state of feeling between the people of the North and South would have been absolutely inconsistent with a complete and lasting union of the kind that all patriotic men desired, we can better appreciate the magnitude of the services of those to whom we are indebted for such a happy ending of a bloody war.

I am here to-day, with some of my late companions-inarms, and with the belief that I express the feelings of every Confederate soldier, to bear witness that the American people are indebted for this great blessing, for all the good that followed it, and for the exemption from the countless evils that were averted by it, to the illustrious man whose grave we strew with flowers of gratitude and affectionate veneration more than to any other, and to none is the duty of recognition of his great services more grateful than to the soldiers of the Confederacy.

I think that this great service of General Grant has not been as fully understood and appreciated as it deserves. To me it seems the most illustrious of all his illustrious deeds, and entitles him to a high place in the history among the benefactors of his country and of mankind. Great as were his achievements in war, I think his crowning glory was that of a peacemaker, and that to him belongs the blessing promised to the peacemaker.

Before I bring to your attention the facts that I think warrant what I have just said of General Grant, I will tell you part of a conversation between General Grant and General Lee, as related by the latter, the day after the surrender at Appomattox.

You all remember that when General Grant first opened the correspondence with General Lee which led to the meeting at Appomattox, General Lee proposed to give a wider scope to the subject to be treated of between him and General Grant and to discuss with the latter the terms of a general pacification.

General Grant declined to consider anything except the surrender of General Lee's army, assigning as a reason for his refusal his want of authority to deal with political matters or any other than those pertaining to his position as the commander of the army. The day after the meeting at McLean's house, at which the terms of surrender were agreed upon, another interview took place between General Grant and General Lee upon the invitation of General Grant, and when General Lee returned from that meeting he repeated, in the presence of several of his staff, the substance of the conversation, one part of which I am now about to state, and I think you will see in it, as I did and as we all did, the feeling that controlled all the actions of General Grant at that most critical period.

The conversation turned on the subject of a general peace, as to which General Grant had already declared the want of power to treat, but in speaking of the means by which a general pacification might be effected General Grant said to General Lee, with great emphasis and strong feeling: **General Lee, I want this war to end without the shedding of another drop of American blood." Not "Northern" blood, not "Southern" blood, but "American" blood, for in his eyes all the men around him and all those who might be then confronting each other on other fields over the wide area of war were "Americans."

These words made a great impression upon all who heard them, as they did upon General Lee, who told us, with no little emotion, that he took occasion to express to General Grant his appreciation of the noble and generous sentiments uttered by him, and assured him that he would render all the assistance in his power to bring about the restoration of peace and good-will without shedding another drop of "American" blood. This "American" blood, sacred in the eyes of both these great American soldiers, flows in the veins of all of us, and let it be sacred in our eyes, also, henceforth and forever, ready to be poured without stint as

a libation upon the altar of our common country, never to be shed again in fratricidal war.

It is in the light of this noble thought of General Grant that I have always considered the course pursued by him at the moment of his supreme triumph at Appomattox, and, seen in that light, nothing could be grander, nobler, more magnanimous, nor more patriotic, than his conduct on that occasion. Let us go back for a moment and look at the state of affairs on the morning of the 9th of April, 1865.

The bleeding and half-starved remnant of that great army, which for four years had baffled all the efforts of the Federal Government to reach the Confederate capital, and had twice borne the flag of the Confederacy beyond the Potomac, confronted, with undaunted resolution, but without hope save the hope of an honorable death on the battle-field, the overwhelming forces under General Grant.

At the head of that remnant of a great army was a great soldier, whose name was a name of fear, whose name is recorded in a high place on the roll of great soldiers of history. That remnant of the great Army of Northern Virginia with its great commander at its head, after the long siege of Richmond and Petersburg, had been forced to retreat, and on the 9th of April, 1865, was brought to bay at Appomattox, surrounded by the host of its great enemy. There was no reasonable doubt that the destruction of that army would seal the fate of the Confederacy, and put an end to further organized resistance to the Federal arms, and there was no reasonable doubt that if that remnant were driven to desperation by the exaction of terms of surrender against which its honor and its valor would revolt, that resistance would have been made, and General Grant and his army might have been left in the possession of a solitude that they might have called peace, but which would have been the peace of Poland, the peace of Ireland. Under such circumstances, had General Grant been governed by the mere selfish desire of the rewards of military success, had he been content to gather the fruits that grow nearest the earth on the tree of victory-the fruits that Napoleon and all selfish conquerors of his time have gathered, the fruits that our Washington put away from him-what a triumph lay before him!

What Roman triumph would have approached the triumph of General Grant had he led the remnant of the Army of Northern Virginia, with its great 'commander in chains, up Pennsylvania avenue, thenceforth to be known as the "Way of Triumph." But so simple, so patriotic, was the mind of General Grant that the thought of self seems never to have affected his conduct. He was no more tempted at Appomattox to forego the true interests of his country for his own advantage than Washington was tempted when the time came for him to lay down his commission at Annapolis. I doubt if the self-abnegation of Washington at Annapolis was greater than that of Grant at Appomattox, and it is the glory of America that her institutions breed men who are equal to the greatest strain that can be put upon their courage and their patriotism.

On that eventful morning of April 9th, 1865, General Grant was called upon to decide the most momentous question that any American soldier or statesman has ever been required to decide.

The great question was: How shall the war end? What Ishall be the relations between the victors and the vanquished? Upon the decision of that question depended, as I believe, the future of American institutions.

If the extreme rights of military success had been insisted upon, and had the vanquished been required to pass

under the yoke of defeat and bitter humiliation, the war would have ended as a successful war of conquest-the Southern States would have been conquered States, and the Southern people would have been a conquered people, in whose hearts would have been sown all the enmity and ill will of the conquered to the conquerors, to be transmitted from sire to son.

With such an ending of the war there would have been United States without an united people. The power of the Union would then have reposed upon the strength of Grant's battalions and the thunder of Grant's artillery. Its bonds would have stood upon the security of its military power, and not upon the honor, and good faith, and goodwill of its people. The Federal Government would have been compelled to adopt a coercive policy toward the disaffected people of the South, which would soon have established between the Government and States the relations now existing between England and Ireland, and some Northern Gladstone would now be demanding for the Southern people the natural rights that the English Gladstone is claiming for the Irish against their haughty conquerors.

Does any man desire to exchange the present relations between the people of the Northern and Southern States for the relations of conqueror and conquered? Does any man wish to have a union of the States without a union of the people? Now, General Grant was called upon to decide this great question on the morning of April 9, 1865.

The Southern military power was exhausted. He was in a position to exact the supreme rights of a conqueror and the unconditional submission of his adversary unless that adversary should elect to risk all on the event of a desperate battle, in which much "American" blood would certainly be shed.

And I will say here that the question was gravely considered in Confederate councils, whether we should not accept the extreme risk and cut our way through the hosts of General Grant or perish in the attempt.

This plan had many advocates, but General Lee was not one of them, as will be seen by his farewell order to his

army.

Under such circumstances General Lee and General Grant met to discuss the terms of the surrender of General Lee's

army, and at the request of General Lee General Grant wrote the terms of surrender he proposed to offer to the Confederate general. They were liberal and honorable alike to the victor and the vanquished, and General Lee at once accepted them. Any one who reads General Grant's proposal cannot fail to see how careful he is to avoid unnecessary humiliation to his adversary. As far as it was possible, General Grant took away the sting of defeat from the Confederate army. He triumphed, but he triumphed without exaltation, and with a noble respect to his enemy.

There was never a nobler knight than the Grant of Appomattox-no knight more magnanimous or more generous. No statesman ever decided a vital question more wisely, more in the interest of his country and of all mankind than General Grant decided the great question presented to him when he and General Lee met that morning of April 9, 1865, to consider the terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia.

The words of his magnanimous proposal to his enemy were carried by the Confederate soldiers to the farthest borders of the South. They reached ears and hearts that had never quailed at the sound of war. They disarmed and reconciled those who knew not fear, and the noble words of General Grant's offer of peace brought peace without humiliation, peace with honor.

The decision of General Grant imposed upon the Southern people the solution of a great problem, and I invoke for them while engaged in its solution the good-will and tolerance of General Grant, while I demand of them and promise in their names the good faith and fidelity of General Lee to all his promises made in their name.

At the entrance of the great harbor of our commercial metropolis stands the representation of "Liberty Enlightening the World." In her hand the figure holds the torch toward which the artist desired to draw the eyes of all nations, the hope of the oppressed and helpless of mankind.

Here upon this sacred spot, my brethren, raise a noble and grand temple, the hope and assurance of the defenders of our national faith, and upon this altar inscribe for the teaching of the coming generations of Americans the illustrious name, “Grant of Appomattox-Grant the magnani

mous.

G

O search the annals of the human race,
Go hear the legends that the heathen tell,
And learn that hist'ry, sacred or profane,

Records no hero like the mighty Grant.
Columbia proudly claims him as her own
And rears her monuments with love and pride;
But millions scattered o'er the face of earth,
And millions yet unborn, will share that claim:
Who serves mankind is deemed the friend of man,
And nations nationalize him in their hearts.
Since that first famous Battle of the Kings,
Of which we read in holy writ, no word
E'er leaped from scabbard in a juster war
Than that which made our country free indeed,
Which, until then, was only free in name.
The bond of unity that Washington

To us bequeathed, Grant's loyal arm maintained;
Emancipation of the dusky race

By Lincoln's heaven-inspired pen, by Grant's
Unsullied sword was made complete!

How well

He proved the potency of equal rights,
And how he dignified Democracy
The monarchs of the world have told, thrice told,

In homage, hospitality and love.

No land is free where dwells a slave: to-day
In all our land there dwells no slave, and we
Are free, forever free!

"Let us have peace.'
Clasp hands across the ashes of the dead.
No, no; Grant is not dead, he cannot die;
The body is the worn-out coat of mail,
That with his sword and shield the warrior casts
Aside when life's campaign is o'er, and home,
Eternal home, is reached.

He is not dead
Whose power still exists; and Grant will live
A life of immortality while yet

Our starry banner floats for liberty,

Which, thanks to God, will be forevermore.