and I were a part. It seems to me, my comrades, that was a glorious finish. Then there was the Trevellian raid. We went up there and each of you had a part and share in that experience. You know our record; you know what we did there, and you know the commendations we received; and I glory in our share of it. Then, again, you recollect we fell back and came around through Spottsylvania battle ground, down to the White House, and over across to the James, and our division, under the lead of the gallant, brave, cautious, but fearless Gregg, (applause), in whom every man in the Second Division who was a soldier, had confidence-you know what we did there. It is true we were forced to retreat, but retreat upon that occasion was the better part of valor. Before we retreated, however, the purpose for which we were sent had been accomplished. Then, again, you recollect our campaign on the southern side of the James, the Boynton plank road, the Jerusalem plank road, the Prince George Court House, Stony Creek, and many others in the early winter of 1865. All these campaigns you and I took part in, and then came the glorious, final triumph of the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac. If we can speak well of what the cavalry did before that, what can we say of the closing nine days' battle from Dinwiddie to Appomattox? Many of you took part in that work, and its history is not unknown to you. It is a crown of glory upon every comrade here."

The Chairman.-The next com

rade I will introduce to you is Captain John P. White of Nebraska.

Comrade White.-"Comrades, Ladies and Gentlemen: I want to say, there never was a man in the Tenth New York, or in the Army of the Potomac, or in the Army of the United States, who had greater love for you all than I have. My experience with you in the long term from 1861 to 1865, has endeared you all to me. I was there at the beginning, as you know, and I was there at the finish, as you know. This is the first opportunity I have since had of meeting you, but my heart has been with you ever. Out on the prairies of Dakota, when I was riding my plow, I was lost to my surroundings, and was here in Buffalo. I was in Syracuse, and I was with you all through those proceedings, and, as I say, I was lost to all surroundings there. I have always thought of you, and it has given me great satisfaction and great pleasure to have been remembered so kindly as I have been in your communications to me after each and every one of these reunions. To-night I have been living. over again our whole experience with the grand old Army of the Potomac. I have been to Syracuse, where we joined Company A with my comrades here, some of them, one of them who went with me, my dear old comrade, Mark Brownell. plause.) We were born in the same town, and his little wife was born on an adjoining farm, and she used to encourage us with her letters. I love to think of those ladies who helped us with their letters, and encouraged us while we were there. I

(Ap

6

remember the band playing The Girl I Left Behind Me,' - mine hasn't caught up yet. (Laughter.) I have been carried on through from the time we went to Elmira; from there to Gettysburg-I was there riding in the same seat with the first man who fell in the Tenth New York Cavalry, John R. Congdon. We had been home on a short leave of absence, to my home in Cortland, and I remember John had been in the hospital, and we joined at Elmiral and went on to Gettysburg, and he was so glad to see the boys in a field there at Gettysburg. Mind you, this was away back in the first year of the war, and we were sent to Gettysburg to get us away from New York state, because we were going home on French furloughs-you know what those were going home without asking. Little we dreamed in those days that there would be a Battle of Gettysburg, but we were going along on the cars, and as we approached Gettysburg, he stepped to the plat form and waved his hat to the boys on drill in the field, and I saw his form flying past the window, for his head struck the bridge, and he was knocked from the train. The next day (Sunday) we buried him. He was the first soldier buried in Gettysburg cemetery. We went from Gettysburg to Havre de Grace, and were stationed on the road from Baltimore to Haverstraw. It was our fortune to be at Back river, where the real battle was fought. On Back river there had been a wood schooner seized by a rebel company recruited in Baltimore. Lieutenant Weed of Company A, and eleven others of

He

us-I was fortunate enough to be one of the eleven-took our old muskets that that were left us there by the Fourth New York Infantry, and with one load in the musket and one in our pockets, we started out to put down the Rebellion. We plodded through the sand about seven or eight miles down Back river, and as we went through the woods we got sight of the detectives. We went to the edge of the river, and there we saw the schooner, and there were only one or two in sight. Of course they had a crew, the captain and a cook; but the crew was down below, and their forces were also hid. There were four or five skiffs moored beside the river, and we arranged, up behind the trees, just what skiffs we would go for. We broke for them. The gunwales of the skiffs were shallow, and pushing off and grasping and plying the oars as we did, we were constantly striking our knees. But we finally got there. As we got there an officer and one or two men pushed off from this wood schooner for the opposite shore. As we rowed up beside them, they flocked up from below on deck. I think there were twenty-six of them, but I am not positive of that. They gave a cheer for Jeff. Davis and the Confederates, and up went the old muskets. They didn't finish the cheer. If they had I guess we would have shot; but I was glad we didn't have occasion to shoot, for I think if those old muskets had gone off they would have kicked us all overboard, and we would have been drowned in the mud. However, we went on board and ordered them below, and Lieu

ever made in the Rebellion. Captain Van Tuyle of my squadron was on that charge, and was captured on the last day. He had been a good soldier. We returned from there after the surrender, to Petersburg, and then made our long march down through North Carolina to join Sherman, when the news came that Johnston had surrendered. Then we marched back again. We went through Richmond just one year from the day that we had fought there, and where we left many of our dear comrades, the 11th of May, a year from the day that Stuart was laid low. Custer, you remember, commanded us on our return march from Petersburg to Washington, and his good wife accompanied him, and rode in the saddle by his side all the way. It has been my fortune to be located within sight, where I could look across the river to where Custer went forth to his death, and I can tell you the people of North Dakota have a great love for General Custer, whom we fought beside. I want to tell you a little incident that makes us old soldiers feel good, and shows that we are appreciated. I had been in poor health for many years in the East, and I went out to Dakota to rough it. I went out on a soldier's claim. I went there in 1883, and I lived there until three years ago, the time of the World's Fair, and I have not been East since. I could make five dollars and a half more a load for my wheat to haul it seventeen miles than I could two and a half miles at my own station, so I worked until eleven o'clock at night sacking my wheat, and then hauled it to the sta

I

tion. On my way I drove up to a house to water my team, and a man came out, and he said, "What state you from?" I said, "New York." He said, "What county?" I said, "Cortland." He said, "I "I am acquainted in Cortland county. I have a brother-in-law there-Charley Darling." I said, "I am acquainted with him." He said, "Turn out your horses and come in and have dinner." Well, I went in to have dinner. It was about eleven o'clock, and as I went into the sitting-room I looked on the wall, and there I saw our dear old Lieutenant King's picture. asked him, "Are you any relation to Lieutenant King?" He said, "I should think so he is my father." I said, "I was in the regiment with Lieutenant King." And then came in the daughter, a young lady, and she felt so pleased that there was a man there who had been in the regiment with grandpa. She said, "O Mamma, come here, quick. Here is a man who was in the regiment with Grandpa King." I tell you it made my heart burst with joy to think that we are all appreciated for what we tried to do. We had a good talk. Chester King was this man's name— a member of the Eighth New York Cavalry. He told me about his brother-you remember the boy who was in our band, who beat the cymbals for us. He went home, and afterwards was commissioned in a colored regiment and served his time

out.

The Chairman.-I will now introduce to you Comrade C. W. Wiles.

Comrade C. W. Wiles.-In September, 1780, West Point, on the

banks of the Hudson river, was commanded by an American soldier by the name of Benedict Arnold. The British Army lay south of the fort, and among its officers was one by the name of Major John Andre, an educated and brilliant man.

Arnold had communicated with the British commander, and informed him that for a certain amount of gold he would deliver the fort and garrison to the British.

Major Andre was disguised as a citizen and sent up the river in a boat to arrange with Arnold for the surrender of the fort. After a conference he missed the boat, and found that he must return to his army by land, and was given a pass by Arnold, through the American lines, which he safely passed; but outside of the lines he met three men who he supposed were British soldiers, and not being cautious, betrayed who he was, and they arrested him. When he found that they were American soldiers he offered them a gold watch and money to allow him to escape, but they brought him in and delivered him to their officers.

Arnold, in the mean time hearing of his arrest, made his escape in a boat, and reached the British lines. Andre was tried as a spy, and executed.

Those three American soldiers were Paulding, Van Wart, and Williams. The congress of the United States gave each of them an annuity of $200, and a silver medal. On one side was engraved the word "Fidelity," and on the other, "Love of Country." As a further mark of esteem and honor, three counties in

the state of Ohio were named after them, a perpetual monument to their patriotism-Paulding, Van Wart, and

Williams.

In 1864, when Jeff. Thompson and a party of Confederates were in Canada planning for a raid through Ohio and Indiana, to release the Confederate officer imprisoned at Johnson's island, near Sandusky, and create a diversion to draw our troops from the South, a Confederate officer, Captain Samuel B. Davis, who had been on duty at Libby prison, and who was a distant relative of Jefferson Davis, was detailed to make his way to Baltimore, Md., and Columbus, Ohio, and thence to Canada, to consult with Thompson and arrange for the raid into the states.

On his return after consultation with his friends at Columbus, on the train near Newark, O., two private soldiers recognized him, and after consulting together, they approached him and said, "Is your name Davis, and were you not an officer at Libby prison?" He assured them that they were mistaken, but they persisted that they saw him at the prison, and recognized him. So sure were they that they arrested him, and took him off the train at Newark, and turned him over to the provost marshal. That night, in the jail where he was confined, he burned in a stove a large number of papers which they failed to find on him.

He was taken to Cincinnati, tried at a court martial before Judge Advocate Colonel Bond, and sentenced to be shot as a spy.

Before his time for execution, by the influence of friends, the president