the rock barrier, and the most heroic attempts could not carry it. The attack, very wisely, was given up as soon as it was seen that it was utterly hopeless, and before there was too serious a loss of life. By the pass, on the summit, being very thirsty, we dug out a spring of pure, clear water, and, as we drank it, could feel that perhaps we were the first to do so since the soldiers occupied the post. Then, climbing along the ridge, over the great rocks, we looked forth over the fine panorama of fields and hills and homes, and tried to fancy what the Confederate garrison must have thought as they gazed far below them upon the marching columns and waving flags of those whom they considered to be unjust invaders of Georgia soil. A favorite maxim of one of the greatest of European generals was that an army can pass wherever a man can put his foot. After all, though, it makes a good deal of difference whether or not another man has got his foot there first. The Federal army passed Rocky Face Ridge easily enough after the Confederates retreated from it. At Mill Creek Gap the Federals made some efforts to pierce the line, but there, too, they were unsuccessful. There the ridge is cut through by a stream, named Mill Creek, and the lofty heights on either side are termed Buzzards' Roost. In the centre of the gap is a rounding knoll. On one side of the knoll runs Mill Creek. On the other side are Little Martin Creek and the railroad. The two creeks unite just behind the knoll, to the eastward. The hamlet of Rocky Face is just outside of the entrance to the gap, and is a place of, perhaps, a dozen one-story little houses, two small stores, and the inevitable blacksmithshop. Earthworks may still be seen along the ridge and on adjoining hills just inside of the gap. "Sherman couldn't 'a' rid over us," observed a Confederate veteran whom we met there, and whose home is close by, "we was too well heeled." He added, however, with that admiration for Sherman's ability which is universal among Johnston's men, that if Sherman had not flanked them in the way he succeeded in doing, "he'd 'a' found some other way o' doin' of it." It is an attractive region inside of the gap, for the heights stretch off in irregular and picturesque sweeps, and the valley winds beautifully onward. Mill Creek Gap, with the railroad and the creek passing through, was the most vital and at the same time the weakest point in the Confederate line, and Johnston, with the determination of genius, had set himself to make it impregnable. He not only placed commanding batteries, he not only constructed breastworks, and carefully posted his men, he did more, and it was a master stroke. The creek flows through the gap from west to east, and about a mile from the entrance Johnston constructed a strong dam. The water then flooding back, made the valley into a lake, with only narrow stretches of dry land along which to advance. These stretches, too, were commanded by works on the hills above, while, more than this, strong works were constructed near the dam itself. It is not surprising that Sherman, after some demonstrations against this position, and a sharp fight which is generally termed a battle, gave up any serious intention of breaking through there and again turned his attention to assaulting other points along the line. They couldn't 'a' got through unless they'd 'a' swum. Ef they'd a tried 'twould 'a' ben murder," said the veteran to whom I was speaking. Part of the dam may still be made out, although, of course, the work was long since destroyed. Within the central portion of the town of Dalton there is nothing now to show that contending armies struggled for its possession, but on the two Fort Hills, immediately overlooking the railroad tracks, there still remain extensive works, and on picturesque Mount Rachel, but a mile or so away, there are also carefully constructed lines. On Little Fort Hill, too, there still stands an old tree which was used as a signal tree. A platform was built in the top, and strips of wood were nailed against the tree for a ladder. Some of the spikes are still in the tree, and are plainly to be seen. Strictly speaking, perhaps, we should not have said that there is nothing within the town that tells of war, for the building still stands there which is pointed out as having been the headquarters of General Johnston. "And he often used to tie his horse to that post," is added, but as the post is on the other side of the street, we may be permitted to doubt this additional point. The house is now used as a boarding-house. It is of quite a good size, with a pleasant porch in front, and has the appearance of having been quite a mansion in the time of the war. Their The people of Dalton, while they still retain certain Southern prejudices and opinions, heartily welcome Northerners, and seem to have almost forgotten that there was ever a war. Their reminiscences are not war reminiscences. stories are not war stories. But they will tell you with gleeful appreciation of the Dalton lawyer who, retained by the defendant in a certain case, unfortunately came to the trial under the influence of liquor, and, considerably befuddled, made a telling speech against his client. The poor fellow pulled him by the sleeve. "I say," he whispered hoarsely, "you're on my side!" The lawyer, with drunken gravity, gazed at him a moment and strove to collect his wits. Then he slowly turned again to the jury: "Now that I have brought up every point that can possibly be urged against my client," he said, with slow deliberation, "I shall now proceed to explain what is the actual truth and justice of the case.” Long ago, years before the war, the Indians were forcibly, and under circumstances of atrocious cruelty, compelled to leave Northern Georgia, the discovery of gold having rendered the land valuable in the eyes of the whites. The Indians so loved the beautiful mountains and valleys that they could not bear to go away, and they were fiercely hunted from their hidingplaces and dragged off, great numbers being even killed. It was made a penal offence, so it is said, for any white man to assist an Indian in eluding the officers, but John Howard Payne, who was then in the neighborhood of Dalton, was so deeply moved by the removal of the savages from their homes, that he did what he could to help them. He was arrested, and while in charge of an officer, began to sing a verse of "Home, Sweet Home," thinking, doubtless, of the homeless Indians. The officer listened and was touched. "Who wrote that song?" "I did." The officer urged him to sing some more, and was so affected by the emotions that it called up that he at once, although with danger of reprimand and punishment to himself, released the man whose only offence was to sympathize with the Indians in the desire to live in the homes that they so loved. At that time the song had not been given to the world. The story, whether true or not, is believed in this region, and is given for actual truth, so far as can be ascertained. Sherman himself, years before the war, Dalton, when he was a lieutenant in the army. His remembrance of the country made him, doubtless, the more ready to understand the impossibility of breaking through the Confederate lines when so well intrenched and defended, and he realized that he must depend altogether upon manoeuvring Johnston out of his position by a flank movement. was at IN MEMORY OF THE BRAVE. OMRADES, through storms and clouds, down in the valley, COMRADES, darough stores an onlo ma, doming in the You've seen the darkness, dawn, repulse, and rally; Your arms are grounded and your ranks are broken, O AN ARTILLERY FIGHT AT SHORT RANGE. N the 9th day of August, 1862, was fought the battle of Cedar Mountain, in Virginia. The Confederate forces were commanded by General T. J. Jackson, better known as "Stonewall" Jackson, and the Union army by General John Pope. Our regiment, the 107th Pennsylvania Volunteers, had lain the greater part of the day between Culpepper and Cedar Mountain. The distance between the two points is about nine miles. In the afternoon we moved slowly up in the direction of the Conflict. About sunset we turned off the main road and went into camp without pitching tents. No mail had been received for several days-two weeks as nearly as I can recollect-so when it was announced that one had arrived there was excitement and rejoicing among the boys. Those who got letters were elated, and those who did not, the writer among the number, were correspondingly depressed. By the time the mail had been distributed it had grown dark, and some stumps of candles were lit in order to read. Hardly had the lights been struck until orders to put them out went hurriedly around. Our first lieutenant, who was eagerly reading a letter, was a little slow in obeying, when the major rushed up and kicked out the candle, which, I think, the lieutenant held in his hand, although I am now not sure, notwithstanding that I was within a few feet of them. (The usual way was to stick a bayonet in the ground and put the candle in the socket.) Just then there was a boom from the direction of the enemy, and away over to our left a curved streak of light showed the track of a shell. "Pretty," "beautiful," and similar remarks were heard all around. Another, and then another followed, each nearer to us. Some one said that they came from the mountain three to five miles away, and they must have siege guns. The observations were made as if we were disinterested spectators. The next shells went immediately over our heads. They had gotten the range with surprising quick ness. 66 THE CAISSON EXPLODED, MAKING A RED FLASH ON THE NIGHT." Within a few yards of the writer was the regimental ambulance, and under it was curled a small "contraband," a boy the surgeon had picked up somewhere. A shell struck the ground between us and exploded. The little fellow sprang up and struck his head against the axle of the wagon and fell down dazed, with a scalpwound. He always insisted that he had been hit on the head by that shell. The order, "Fall in," was responded to at once, and we found ourselves formed, I think, in close order, company front. A battery came galloping by us to the rear, and some one gave the order, "Left flank, march." Very slowly a few paces were taken to the rear, when a "halt" was ordered, and Lieutenant-Colonel McCall rode up and demanded to know "by whose order was this march?" Among the men it was generally understood afterward that the order was given in a moment of excitement by a captain of one of the companies on the right of the regiment, who resigned a day or two subsequently. The exact facts I never knew. In a few minutes we were marching on the main road in the direction of the firing, in regular order, Company A on the right and B on the left. The shelling had ceased. We had reached the top of a rise in the road, when the moon came out and revealed us to the enemy. Immediately a Confederate battery on the left of the road opened on us. In a wonderfully short time Thompson's battery (Union), on the right of the road, replied. Which was Union and which was Confederate at that time our company, B, at least did not know. The distance between the two batteries was 400 yards, and we were half-way between. We had halted and were lying close to the ground. Even to sit up was to take eat risk of having our heads knocked off. The battery on the right fired lower than the other. Both of them were on ground slightly lower than our position, which, as may easily be understood, was not the most comfortable to be imagined. After a time Second-Lieutenant Gist called my attention to the fact that the battery on the left was slackening fire a little, while the one on the right was, if anything, increasing its fire. We could plainly hear the voices of the officers on our left, commanding and entreating the men to stand their ground. One of their caissons was struck by a shell and exploded, making a red flash on the night. Suddenly there was a tremendous roar from the rear, as another battery opened up. Every gun seemed to speak at once. They were tenpounders, and had been brought into action without our knowledge. We knew this must be our own artillery, and the direction of the shells indicated the enemy. The Confederate battery held on bravely for a little while, so that from the rear and the right and the left shells went hustling and shrieking over our heads, and there was plenty of "music in the air." Soon the firing from the Confederates on our left ceased entirely; both the artillerymen and their supports were compelled to retire, leaving the guns on the field. The fire from the Union batteries stopped shortly afterward; the fight was over, and our boys began to breathe easier. Our command filed off into a corn-field on the right and lay down. With a corn-hill for a pillow, in a few minutes the writer was fast asleep, and so was nearly every one else. There we rested until morning, when we went back to our original position of the night before when the shelling commenced. Sometime after the firing had ceased, the Confederates returned and recovered their pieces. This engagement was certainly one of the most unique artillery duels of the war. It was fought at less than point-blank range and directly over the heads of our regiment. B RIGHTER than ever is that old flag that smiles on us to-day, And brighter still its stars shall grow as ages pass away; Their light the brightest light of hope for man shall ever be The glory of the grandest flag that waves on land or sea. For the souls that reared that standard, and first raised it toward the sky, Resolved that long as freedom lives that "banner shall not die." ( grand old flag! fraternal love thy glory e'er shall crown, And from the ramparts of our land no foe shall tear thee down! There thou shalt ever wave, as thou art brightly seen to-day, The pride of all true hearts that beat beneath the blue and gray! Thou smilest on the noblest blood the world has ever known, Beneath thy starry gleams we see pass in a grand review, George Washington, and Stark, and Knox, and Francis Marion, too; We see bold Captain John Paul Jones, and plain Ben Franklin, too, With Jefferson and Adams, and Charles Carroll, staunch and true; We see stern Andrew Jackson, and brave Phil. Kearney there, With blunt old "Rough and Ready," who had will to do and dare; We see the spirits of the dead-the martyred soldiers true The patriots who for freedom died, pass on in this review. Beneath thy folds, old flag of stars, while we renew the VOW, That long as hearts shall beat, and thought shall dwell within man's brow, We'll hold thee e'er aloft, though storm and danger threaten thee, And with our lives defend thee, thou loved banner of the free! Oh, dark indeed would be our hope for future liberty, It symbolizes genius, and the work that it has done- It tells of splendid palaces that people ever see, And as the ages roll apace, that flag shall brighter grow, With the lustre of new triumphs that our genius shall be stow; And glorious as its record is-a monument sublimeIt shall e'er increase in glory with th' increasing years of time, For when that flag was first unfurled, 'twas with this stern decree: That long as man be true to man, in this Land of the Free, Those stars shall be our hope, that flag shall never cease to be ! |