And from these comic ditties the men, a number of whom had served under Ashby, passed to the saddest of strains with the chorus:

Strike! freemen, for your country,

Ashby is no more!

Like Battles with Snowballs.

In the cavalry it is almost unnecessary to say there was a reserve of fun and take things as they come, which largely sprung from their nomadic life and the shifting scenes through which they passed. But the infantry of General Lee's army were, in camp, like a band of children turned loose for a holiday. The least trifle was sufficient to unloose the waters of the pent-up fun. The excitement caused throughout whole brigades by scaring up a hare or "rabbit" is well known, and the comment generally made when the troops were shooting, was, "That is Jackson or a rabbit!" Whole regiments would pursue the flitting game with hurrahs as of opening battle, and the divertisements of the camps, generally, were as boy-like. One of the most amusing spectacles I ever witnessed was a grand battle of snowballs, near Fredericksburg, in the winter of 1862. Whole divisions engaged in it with the wild enjoyment of childhood. The air was as full of white balls as it had been of shells in the battle of a month before, and as desperate attacks were made on the snow breastworks as General Meade's brave fellows made on Jackson's line crowning the Hamilton hill a mile away. There were, doubtless, bloody noses and cracked crowns on the occasion; but after the battle there were no gallant fellows lying dead in the snow. It is to be wished that all fights were like it-the bloody and brutal farce of war no more of a tragedy than this battle of snowballs.

First Colored Provost Marshal.

First Vessel Through the Mississippi.

THE first colored provost marshal was THE first vessel to get through the

Maj. W. O. Fiske, of the 1st La.

Vols., appointed by General Banks.

Mississippi was the Fred. Kennett, afterwards destroyed on the Yazoo river.

རང་

KEARNEY.

By E. C. STEDMAN.

M

O that soldierly legend is still on its How he strode his brown steed! how

journey

That story of Kearney who knew

not to yield!

we saw his blade brighten

In the one hand still left, and the reins in his teeth,

'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce He laughed like a boy when the holi

Where the red volleys poured, where Up came the reserves to the valley in

the clamor rose highest,

Where the dead lay in clumps through

the dwarf oak and pine,

Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,

No charge like Phil Kearney's along the whole line.

fernal,

Asking where to go in, through the

clearing or pine?

"Oh, anywhere! Forward! 'Tis all the same, Colonel;

You'll find lovely fighting along the whole line!"

When the battle went ill and the brav- Oh, coil the black shroud of night at

est were solemn,

Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground,

Chantilly

That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried!

He rode down the length of the wither- Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped

ing column

And his heart at our war cry leaped

up at a bound.

the white lily,

The flower of our knighthood, the whole army's pride.

He snuffed, like his charger, the wind Yet we dream that he still in that shad

of the powder;

His sword waved us on and we

answered the sign.

owy region,

Where the dead form their ranks at

the wan drummer's sign,

Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his Rides on as of old, down the length of

laugh rang the louder

"There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!"

President Lincoln's First Pardon.

the legion,

And the word still is "Forward!' along the whole line.

The 1st W. Va. Cavalry's Trophy.

THE first pardon under the Presi-T the battle of Opequan, September dent's proclamation exempted Brig.Gen. E. W. Gnatt, of Kansas, from the penalty of treason.

19, 1864, the 1st W. Va. Cavalry, of Averill's division, took the first piece of artillery captured during the day.

FALL OF GENERAL MORGAN,

The Famous Confederate Cavalryman.

A NARRATIVE OF THE DISASTER TO THE RAIDER'S COMMAND AT GREENVILLE IN 1864.

LUCY WILLIAMS, THE UNIONIST,

Braving a Terrific Storm on a Perilous Midnight Ride.-Her Hatred of Morgan and Her Passion for a Handsome Federal Officer.

STIRRING ROMANCE OF WAR.

The Circumstances as Noted by a Kentuckian of the Famous Division.

By F. P. FERRIS.

N the last days of August, 1864, the remnant of Morgan's cavalry remaining from over three years of most active and dangerous service was encamped at Johnson's Station, East Tennessee. The ranks of these hard riders had been thinned by death and capture until, including recruits, the entire force numbered only a few hundreds. After Morgan's escape from the Ohio Penitentiary that portion of his command which was allowed him (a portion of the old division was refused him) was reorganized, companies being consolidated and regiments reduced to battalions. The men remaining from the old division, together with such recruits as had been attracted by the fame of the great raider to his banner, composed a skeleton brigade, comprising several battalions, numbering about five hundred or six hundred men and commanded by Col. D. Howard Smith. Another brigade of about the some formation and number under Colonel Giltner, composed Morgan's division in 1864.

The men were, at the time I write of, much dispirited because of the enforced absence of their much-loved chief. Morgan had been dangerously ill at Abingdon, Va., and the affairs of his military department were in wretched condition. The responsibility of command had devolved upon incompetent men. Instead of maintaining a connected line in front, so that concentration of force might be practicable when necessary, the division had been scattered throughout East Tennessee, a battalion here and a part of a regiment there, thus enabling the enemy to approach and whip us in detail. Our men had been driven for weeks, a military experience to which they were not accustomed, and they began to say there was a standing order to retreat whenever a gun was fired.

On the 29th of August about half the command, as usual, assembled at the depot at Johnson's Station (to which we had fallen back) to witness the incoming of the train with a languid sort of interest and gather such bits of news and gossip as could be extracted from the soldier passengers, and to procure, when that was possible, a copy or two of one of the dimlyprinted Richmond papers. Before the train reached the station the form of Morgan was descried aboard. His arrival was unexpected and, therefore, a most agreeable surprise. His men manifested their pleasure, in the manner most common with soldiers, by yelling with all the power of their lungs. He was greeted with round after round of shouts from the throats of men who loved him, and as he stepped from the platform of the car a hundred hands were stretched to welcome him back. This unusual commotion immediately aroused the quiet camp (only a few hundred yards distant), and ere the general could exchange greetings with those who had first surrounded him the crowd was swelled by hundreds more. In our then comparatively safe retreat but little duty was required of the men, nor were they restrained by severe camp regulations. Grasping as fast as he could the innumerable hands extended to him, General Morgan replied in his natural bonhomie style to the cordial words of welcome from his men.

It soon become known through the camp that "the chief" would resume active command of his troops. Despondency gave place to enthusiasm, for it was known that Morgan's presence meant a renewal of those active and aggressive operations which had rendered his command famous. But when it

was whispered half officially through the camp that our chief's present mission was another raid into Kentucky the enthusiasm became the wildest joy. The previous shouting had been but as the gentle murmur of a zephyr compared with the thunder-storm of rebel yells that greeted this information. That night supreme happiness reigned in our camp. Of course we realized that the road to Kentucky would be a bloody one, but each one hoped that he might be among the lucky ones who would escape death. A few days of hard riding and desperate fighting and then the hours that could be snatched from duty might be passed with father, mother, sister, or that cherished sweetheart, whose promise to wait for us "till the war is over" cheered many a young fellow.

General Morgan strolled through the camp that night, laughing and joking with his men with a familiarity that few military chieftains dared to indulge. He was rapidly recovering strength and lightly remarked that a few days in the saddle would remove the last lingering traces of his late illness. The idea that he was then, in all the pride of manhood and increasing vigor, in the midst of his trusted men, any of whom would most willingly risk their lives for him, nearer to death than when the anxious surgeons had but recently despaired of his life, never for an instant crossed his mind. He was too intent upon our contemplated raid into Kentucky and of the blow we were about to strike for our cause to give a thought to self. In truth it was not his habit to consider personal risk in any of his movements.

As soon as horses could be properly shod and the command put in order for active service the order to march was issued, and about the middle of the afternoon of September 3, we rode through Greenville. In the streets of the town the line was briefly halted by General Morgan himself to give some orders to the brigade officers. He was to remain to town to dinner, and, having given such directions as he desired in regard to the disposition of his forces, the column within a few minutes resumed its march. General Morgan, as if to view the line as it moved by, reined to one side and there remained until the column passed. He was cheered, as he always was, and there, sitting upon his horse within two hundred yards of the very spot that would be stained with his life blood in a few hours more, he received the last testimonial of respect