and had ricochetted either aboard or over her. She slewed a little to bring her more broadside on, her flag flying gayly out. Then a puff of smoke rose from her bow, and in an instant the first shot from the enemy struck the water short of us, but in good line. We were now ordered to fire ad lib. The old six-pounder joined in now, and we found that she carried as far as the others; indeed, further than the smooth-bore howitzer, whose missiles fell short every time. The six-pounder detachment claimed to have struck the vessel at least once.

Meanwhile, the steamer kept up fire from her long thirty-two-pounder, the only gun that she had, apparently, though there may have been others that could not be brought to bear. We ascertained the calibre from a shot which we recovered.

Either because she thought the odds too much against her, or because she had completed an intended reconnoissance, she sheered off after a few shots and retired, evidently with her chain boxes to port, as she had a big heel to that side.

We read in a paper, subsequently, that she had received three shots between wind and water. We also learned that she was the seagoing tug Yankee, and considered it no bad augury that a craft bearing the concrete name of our enemy had been discomfited in the first engagement of the war north of South Carolina. By counting our ammunition left, we found that we had fired thirteen shots. I do not remember that there was any cheering or other demonstration when the steamer left us.

At our gun, we now had leisure to observe that the wheels and ourselves were standing in the water. The tide had not made an exception in our case.

It being apparent that the fight was over for the time being, we were allowed to break ranks and resume our preparations for dinner, and found, on coming somewhat to our normal selves, that we were very hungry. We were not long in discovering that whilst we had been occupied in upholding our honor at the front, we had had an enemy in the rear. Our camp had been raided by the pigs, our mess kettles and frying pans overturned, and everything eatable within reach either consumed or spoiled. There was nobody to interfere with the pigs, as our attention was, of course, engrossed elsewhere, and every negro and non-combatant had retired to the bluff, or out of sight.

I think from this incident sprang our future

uncontrollable desire to kill a pig wherever we encountered him, especially if the provost-guard was not around.

But true soldier-fashion, we made light of this accident and went to work on another dinner. The memories of this and one or two subsequent dinners stood by us for some time, and were subjects of much mirth to us as we increased in knowledge of military mess cooking.

That night, in our Sibley tents, with guards posted at every possible point to secure us from interruption, we went through the scenes of the day, and gradually the accumulated experiences pieced out a tolerably complete resumé of the incidents and sensations growing out of our first smell at gunpowder. It was evident that the shot were very dangerous if they should strike. anybody, as they dug holes in the ground fully as large as graves and very suggestive of the same. So it was unanimously concluded that we had been in danger.

We, at the six-pounder, had another escaped peril to report. The old piece had such a recoil that at the first shot she came near wiping out all the gun squad except numbers one and two, who were opposite the muzzle. The next shot we stood clear. We also came to wonder why we had been placed under the wharf, where our position was a much more dangerous one, from the possibility of flying splinters, had the wharf been struck, than if we had been in the open, to say nothing about the risk of being driven off by the tide. Everybody remembered one incident, however, and the hero, though a total stranger that morning, immediately became an object of great attention. He was a big brindle nondescript dog, who leaped and capered in front of the guns, jumping all four feet off the ground at the smoke, and then rushing frantically into the water, looking in vain for the traces of our shot, swimming out to where he saw the thirty-twopound balls make a great splash, and diving for them, remaining so long under water that we several times thought him drowned.

There have been many things written about men's feelings when the first time under fire. The consensus of opinion with us, under similar circumstances, was that we hardly had time to think of the danger. As for myself, I do not think I realized that we were being shot at with any intention of hurting us. Later on, I think that we all took in the risk much more thoroughly, for it soon became apparent that we were being shot at with serious intent to hurt, and saw fearful evidences of that intent.

I

CAPTAIN JOHN MC ANALLY.

N a recently published article, among other things Gen. Horatio C. King referred to a very happy reunion of the blue and the gray in which he participated on the Fourth of July, 1883, upon which occasion "the cadets of the Virginia Military Institute at Lexington visited New York for the purpose, among other things, of returning the flag of the 155th Regiment of New York Volunteers, which had been captured by cadets during the war when they were suddenly called into the Confederate service."

Had General King looked closely at the lettering on that flag, he would have found that it had belonged to the 164th Regiment and not the 155th; and the flag was one of those generally known as a State flag, such as each regiment carried in addition to the national colors. flag in question was taken from me, while commanding a company of the 155th Regiment, N. Y. V., and under rather peculiar circumstances, which I will relate.

The

The 155th, 164th, 170th, and 182d Regiments of New York Volunteers were known as the Corcoran Legion, and during the month of November, 1863, were encamped at Fairfax Station, Virginia. An order came directing the

164th and 182d Regiments to go to Fairfax Court House, while the 155th and 170th Regiments were instructed to guard the Orange and Alexandria Railroad from the Bull Run Bridge to the bridge across Accotink Creek.

After the 164th Regiment had departed, their colors were found standing near a sutler's tent, close to the station. How they came to be left behind I have never known. The colors were found by a member of my company, who brought them to my tent. I made diligent inquiry, but could learn nothing as to the reason for leaving the colors behind; but I supposed they would soon be missed and sent for. Shortly afterward I was ordered to go with my company to Sangster Cross Roads, about three miles west of Fairfax Station, and, having had no inquiry for the flag, I took it with me.

Arriving at our new post of duty, we found a quantity of timber that had been taken there to build a block-house, and this I at once used in the construction of breast works, extending across the highway close to the railroad. On each side of the road was a ditch nearly ten feet deep, and by extending the timbers over the ditches, I secured a position where we were comparatively free from danger from a sudden attack or a dash by the enemy's cavalry. I had some sixty-five men, who were sheltered by four Sibley tents, while the first. sergeant occupied a wall tent. The three officers were quartered in the county house near by, with the consent of the keeper, who was a fine old Virginia gentleman. We expected to remain there all winter, so the officers sent for their wives, who happened to be three sisters, to come and spend the Christmas holidays in camp. We were far in the rear of the army and felt quite secure; but we reckoned without our host, as subsequent events proved.

About half-past six o'clock on the evening of December 17th, I was standing near the first sergeant's tent, listening to a very good amateur minstrel performance which the boys were giving for their own diversion, when our post was suddenly attacked from the south, and I presume no show was ever broken up more quickly. Of course it was dark, and we could not make out the numbers or the exact character of our assailants, who speedily dashed up on the rail

road track and opened fire upon us at not more than one hundred feet distance. They could not get to us on account of our substantial breastworks and the equally impassable ditch, and I think they must have been somewhat surprised to find that they had struck a foe that, though suddenly assailed, did not intend to run away or dodge the issue. Our men promptly and vigorously returned the fire, and the air was soon filled with singing bullets, traveling in both directions.

The Confederate leader quickly saw the impossibility of dislodging us from that point of attack, so he sent a column to my left, which worked around over another road and came up behind our works. Our first lieutenant, with one-third of the company, engaged the enemy in our rear, and kept them at bay for about forty minutes, killing one of our assailants and wounding several. In front, where we were still fighting behind the timbers, we killed Captain Cartwell, of Company D, 12th Virginia Cavalry, a brave officer who was leading his men in a charge. His body fell into a little run which they were crossing. It is an awful thing to shoot down a brave and dashing soldier, though he be an enemy, but such is war.

All this time I suppose neither commander knew whom he was fighting nor how many men were before him. I know I didn't; but after things became serious, and our enemy began to crowd us, front and rear, with blare of bugle, clash of steel, beat of hoofs, and that bloodcurdling "yell," I began to think it had fallen. to my lot to "do up" the entire Confederacy. We cheered back and kept up all the show we could, but it was no go." The first lieutenant was forced back, and our tents were fired, which exposed our position and our weakness, so the only thing left for us was to "get out," which we did, through the railroad ditch to the westthe only line of retreat left open.

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in our company, and so our man crawled out of his hiding-place only to see that all the uniforms were gray. He speedily crawled back again but did not have to remain long, for the Confederates made a very short stay and were soon out of sight and hearing.

One of my men hurried down the railroad track toward Fairfax Station and, by means of a fire-brand, stopped all trains, so that the chief object of this cavalry dash was frustrated.

When I returned with reinforcements I found our camp in ashes, but to my intense relief the county house was all right, and so were the ladies. The flag of the 164th Regiment, previously mentioned and which had remained in my possession up to that time, had been taken from my quarters along with some other things, and that is the way it was captured by the Confederates.

The ladies of our party were cared for, during the fight, at the county house, and they were much affected by the courtesy of the Confederate officers, who showed them every attention. After the fight they went over the field and picked up one poor fellow in gray, shot through the abdomen and fatally wounded. His name was Van Meter, and he belonged, I believe, to Captain Cartwell's company, of the 12th Virginia Cavalry. We did all we could for him, but he died the next morning, and we gave him a soldier's burial. His brother-in-law subsequently obtained a permit and removed the body to his home.

Our assailants proved to be General Rosser, with his brigade of cavalry, the 7th, 11th, and 12th Virginia, and the 35th Battalion. It may seem strange that a single company could make so good a stand against a greatly superior force, but our position was strong and the darkness was so great that our assailants were in a quandary as to our strength. Poor Van Meter told me that they had heard that we had seventyfive men, but that it seemed to him we had 300 at least.

Colonel McMahon, of the 164th Regiment, came looking for the missing flag, but was too late. He said he didn't care so much about the flag, but he didn't like to have Rosser go off with the idea that he had been fighting his regiment when it was only a company and from another command.

Ο

COLONEL LAUNCELOT MINOR-1894.

N the night of the 6th of April, 1865, Mahone's Division, the rear guard or left wing of the Army of Northern Virginia, slept on its arms at the High Bridge, on the Norfolk and Western Railroad, near Farmville, in Virginia. Early on the following morning the unmounted officers and privates crossed over the Appomattox River on this bridge and the mounted officers forded the stream. The close pursuit of the Army of the Potomac prevented the destruction of this great structure; but our soldiers succeeded in burning a barn near, to prevent the capture of a large quantity of tobacco stored therein.

After a march of a few hours, our division was halted at Cumberland Church and formed in line of battle across the highway. The right was connected with another line of troops, that extended away toward Farmville, and its left, entirely unprotected, rested a few hundred yards in rear of the church.

It was my fortune to be assigned to the command of the division picket line, which was barely established before the hostile sharpshooters were seen advancing in front, and the contest began, to continue hotly the live-long day. The men in line of battle had hurriedly thrown up a slight earthwork, with bayonets and

bare hands, which afforded scant protection from the duel that raged fiercely between the pickets.

The Rockbridge Artillery, Captain Archie Graham, was posted on the line of battle near the public road and rendered valuable service throughout that long day. Robert E. Lee, Jr., son of General Robert E. Lee, our commanderin-chief, was a private in this battery.

In the afternoon my pickets were forced back by a strong column of troops, which made a dashing charge upon our left, with the view of turning our flank. The galling fire from my pickets impeded the charge, and the advance brigade halted for protection in a deep ravine only a short distance from the flank of our crude earthworks. The pickets were quickly reinforced by a regiment of Georgians from General "Tiger" Anderson's Brigade, and held the enemy in check until the gallant Anderson, with the remainder of his command, swept around the left of our position, struck the enemy in flank, capturing an entire brigade with its colors.

This magnificent manœuvre was directed by the dashing Mahone and performed under his eyes, as I can testify. It was the quick conception of one of the greatest military leaders of the war between the sections-of a soldier well worthy of the mantle of Stonewall Jackson. After the brilliant feat of the glorious Georgians, our picket line was soon re-established; but not without the sacrifice of some brave men.

Conspicuous for gallantry was a handsome young artilleryman, not out of his teens, who, when not engaged with his cannon, would borrow rifles from the infantrymen, stand up, while others were protected by breastworks, and with deliberate aim fire at his man, regardless of the continuous shower of bullets to which he was exposed. Finally he was shot down, desperately wounded, and borne off the field to the residence of Mr. Hogsden, which was made a field hospital.

Subsequently Adjutant Griffin F. Edwards, a youth of twenty years, of our 61st Virginia Regiment, Infantry, while gallantly rallying his men to recover the lost picket line in front of his regiment, was also severely wounded. After dark he was taken to the field hospital. The yard was strewn with the wounded and dead, the kitchen, out-houses, and even the stables