One hundred years ago we were thirteen British Colonies, remonstrating and disputing with the mother country in discontent. After some years spent in fruitless complaints against the policy of the British Government towards us, the Colonies resolved to sever their connection with Great Britain, that they might be first independent, and then proceed to govern themselves in their own way. At the same time they took counsel together and made common cause. They declared certain truths to be self evident, and proclaimed the right of every people to alter or amend their forms of government as to them may seem fit. They pronounced this right an inalienable right, and declared that when a long train of abuses and usurpations evinces a design on the part of the Government to reduce a people to absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government. In support of these declarations, the people of that day, in the persons of their representatives, pledging themselves, their fortunes and their sacred honor, went to war, and in the support of their cause appealed to Divine Providence for protection. Under these doctrines we and our fathers grew up, and we were taught to regard them with a reverence almost holy and to believe in them with quite a religious belief.

In the war that ensued, the Colonies triumphed; and in the treaty of peace, Great Britain acknowledged each one of her devolted Colonies to be a nation, endowed with all the attributes of sovereignty, independent of her, of each other, and of all other temporal powers whatsoever. These new-born nations were New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia--thirteen in all.

At that time all the country west of the Alleghany mountains was a wilderness. All that part of it which lies north of the Ohio river and east of the Mississippi, called the Northwest Territory, and out of which the States of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin and a part of Minnesota have since been carved, belonged to Virginia. She exercised dominion over it, and in her resided the rights of undisputed sovereignty. These thirteen powers, which were then as independent of each other as France is of Spain, or Brazil is of Peru, or as any other nation can be of another, concluded to unite and form .a compact, called the Constitution, the main objects of which were to establish justice, secure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defence, and promote the general welfare. To this end they established a vicarious government, and named it the United States. This instrument had for its corner-stone the aforementioned inalienable rights. With the assertion of these precious rights — which are so dear to the hearts of all true Virginians — fresh upon their lips, each one of these thirteen States, signataries to this compact, delegated to this new Government so much of her own sovereign powers as were deemed necessary for the accomplishment of its objects, reserving to herself all the powers, prerogatives and attributes not specifically granted or specially enumerated. Nevertheless, Virginia, through abundant caution, when she fixed her seal to this Constitution, did so with the express declaration, in behalf of her people, that the powers granted under it might be resumed by them whenever the same should be perverted to their injury or oppression; that no right, of any denomination, can be cancelled, abridged, restrained or modified by the Congress, by the Senate or House of Representatives, acting in any capacity, by the President, or any department, or officer of the United States, except in those instances in which power is given by the Constitution for those purposes. With this agreement, with a solemn appeal to the Searcher of all hearts for the purity of their intentions, our delegates, in the name and in behalf of the people of Virginia, proceeded to accept and to ratify the Constitution for the Government of the United States.

Proceeding of the Virginia Convention, 1788, p. 28. Code of Virginia, 1860.

But it did not go into operation until the other States--parties to the contract — had accepted by their act of signature and tacit agreement the conditions which Virginia required to be understood as the terms on which she accepted the Constitution and agreed to become one of the United States. Thus these conditions became, to all intents and purposes, a part of that instrument itself; for it is a rule of law and a principle of right laid .down, well understood and universally acknowledged, that if, in a compact between several parties, any one of them be permitted to enter into it on a condition, that condition enures alike to the benefit of all.

Notwithstanding the purity of motive and singleness of purpose which moved Virginia to become one of the United States, sectional interests were developed, and the seeds of faction, strife and discord appeared in the very convention which adopted the Constitution. At that time African negroes were bought and sold, and held in slavery in all the States. They had been brought here by the Crown and forced upon Virginia when she was in the colonial state, in spite of her oft-repeated petitions and remonstrances against it; and now since she, with others, were independent and masters of themselves, they desired to put an end forthwith to this traffic. To this the North objected, on the ground that her people were extensively engaged in kidnapping in Africa and transporting slaves thence for sale to Southern planters. They had, it was added, such interests at stake in this business that twenty years would be required to wind it up. At that time the political balance between the sections was equal; and the South, to pacify the North, agreed that the new Government should have no power, until after twenty years should have elapsed, to restrict their traffic; and thus the North gained a lease and a right to fetch slaves from Africa into the South till 1808. That year, one of Virginia's own sons being President of the United States, an act was passed forbidding a continuance of the traffic, and declaring the further prosecution of it piracy.

Virginia was the leader in the war of the Revolution, and her sons were the master-spirits of it, both in the field and in the cabinet. For an entire generation after the establishment of the Government under the Constitution, four of her sons — with an interregnum of only four years--were called, one after the other, to preside, each for a period of eight years, over the affairs of the young Republic and to shape its policy. In the meantime Virginia gave to the new Government the whole of her northwest territory, to be held by it in trust for the benefit of all the States alike. Under the wise rule of her illustrious sons in the Presidential chair, the Republic grew and its citizens flourished and prospered as no people had ever done.

During this time, the African slave-trade having ceased, the price of negroes rose in the South; then the Northern people discovered that it would be better to sell their slaves to the South than to hold them, whereupon acts of so-called emancipation were passed in the North. They were prospective, and were to come in force after the lapse, generally, of twenty years,

Slavery did not cease In New York till 1827.

The soldier may forget the long, weary march, with its dust, heat and thirst, and he may forget the horrors and blood of the battle-field, or he may recall them sadly, as one thinks of the loved dead; but the cheerful, happy scenes of the camp fire he will never forget! How willingly he closes his eyes to the present to dream of those happy, careless days and nights. Around the fire crystallize the memories of the soldier's life. It was his home — his place of rest, where he met with good companionship. Who kindled the fire? Nobody had matches, there was no fire in sight, and yet, scarcely was the camp determined when the bright blaze of the camp-fire was seen. He was a shadowy fellow who kindled the fire. Nobody knows who he was, but no matter how wet the leaves, how sobby the twigs — no matter if there was no fire in a mile of the camp, that fellow could start one. Some men might get down on hands and knees, and blow it and fan it, rear and charge, and fume and fret, and yet she wouldn't burn. But this fellow would come, kick it all around, scatter it, rake it together again, shake it up a little, and oh! how it burned The little flames would bite the twigs, and snap at the branches, embrace the logs, and leap and dance, and laugh at the touch of the master's hand and soon lay at his feet a bed of glowing coals.

As soon as the fire is kindled all hands want water. Who can find it? Where is it? Never mind I we have a man who knows where to go. He says, where's our bucket? and then we hear the rattle of the old tin cup as it drops to the bottom of it, and away he goes, nobody knows where. But he knows, and he doesn't stop to think, but without the slightest hesitation or doubt, strikes out in the darkness.

From the camp-fire as a centre, draw 500 radii, and start an ordinary man on any of them, and let him walk a mile on each, and he will miss the water. But that fellow in the mess with the water instinct never failed. He would go as staight for the spring, or well, or creek, or river, as though he had lived in that immediate neighborhood all his life and never got water anywhere else. What a valuable man he was. A modest fellow, who never knew his own greatness. But others remember and honor him. May he never want for any good thing! Having a roaring fire and a bucket of good water, we settle down. A man cannot be comfortable anywhere; so each man and his chum picks out a tree, and that particular tree becomes the homestead of the two. They hang their canteens on it, lay their haversacks and spread their blankets at the foot of it, and sit down, and lean their weary backs against it, and feel that they are at home. How gloomy the woods are beyond the glow of our fire? How cosy and comfortable we are who stand around it and inhale the aroma of the coffee boiler and the skillet? The man squatting by the fire is a person of importance. He doesn't talk — not he; his whole mind is concentrated on that skillet. He is our cook — volunteer, natural and talented cook. Not in a vulgar sense. He doesn't mix, but simply bakes, the biscuit. Every faculty, all the energy of the man, is employed in that great work. Don't suggest anything to him if you value his friendship! Don't attempt to put on or take off from the top of that skillet one single coal, and don't be in a hurry for the biscuit. You need not say you like yours half done, &c. Simply wait. When he thinks they are ready, and not before, you get them. He may raise the lid cautiously now and then and look in, but don't you look in. Don't say you think they are done; because it's useless.

Ah! his face relaxes — he raises the lid, turns it upside down to throw off the coals, and says: All right boys! And now with the air of a wealthy philanthropist he distributes the solid and weighty product of his skill to, as it were, the humble dependents around him.

The General of the mess having satisfied the cravings of the inner-man, now proceeds to enlighten the ordinary members of it as to when, how and why, and where the campaign will open, and what will be the result.

He arranges for every possible and impossible contingency, and brings the war to a favorable and early termination. The greatest mistake General Lee ever made, was that he failed to consult this man. Who can tell what might have been if he had.

Now, to the consternation of all hands, our old friend, the Bore, familiarly known as the old Auger, opens his mouth to tell us of a little incident illustrative of his personal prowess, and, by way of preface, commences at Eden and goes laboriously through the Patriarchal age, on through the Mosaic dispensation to the Christian era, takes in Grecian and Roman history, by the way, then Spain and Germany and England and colonial times, and the early history of our grand Republic; the causes of and necessity for our war, and a complete history up to date. And then slowly unfolds the little matter. We always loved to hear this man, and prided ourselves on being the only mess in the army having such treasure all our own.

The Auger having been detailed for guard-duty walks off, and his voice grows fainter and fainter in the distance, and we call forth our Poet. One eye is bandaged with a dirty cotton rag. He is bareheaded and his hair resembles a dismantled straw-stack. His elbows and knees are out, and his pants, from the knee down, have a brown-toasted tinge imparted by the genial heat of many a fire. His toes protrude themselves prominently from his shoes. You would say, What a dirty, ignorant fellow. But listen to his rich, well-modulated voice. How perfect his memory. What graceful gestures. How his single eye glows. See the color on his cheek. See the strained and still attention of the little group around him. Hear him! I am dying, Egypt, dying-- Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast, And the dark Plutonian shadows Gather on the evening blast. Let thine arms, Oh! Queen, support me, Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear; Listen to the great heart secrets-- Thou, and thou alone, must hear. Though my proud and veteran legions Bear their Eagles high no more, And my wrecked and shattered galleys Strew dark Actium's fatal shore-- Though no glittering guards surround me, Prompt to do their master's will, I must perish like a Roman; Die — the great triumvir still. Let not Caesar's servile minions Mock the lion thus laid low; 'Twas no foeman's hand that slew him, 'Twas his own that struck the blow. Here, then, pillow on thy bosom Ere his star fade quite away, Him, who drunk with thy caresses, Madly flung a world away. Should the base plebeian rabble Dare assail my fame at Rome, Where the noble spouse Octavia Weeps within her widowed home-- Seek her! say the Gods have told me, Altars, Augurs — circling wings, That her blood, with mine commingled, Yet shall mount the throne of kings. As for thee, dark-eyed Egyptian, Glorious Sorceress of the Nile, Light the path to Stygian horrors With the glories of thy smiles. Give to Caesar Crowns and Arches, Let his brow the Laurel twine-- I could scorn the Senate's triumph, Triumphing in love like thine. I am dying, Egypt, dying I Hard I the insulting foeman's cry, They are coming! quick! my falchion!! Let me front them ere I die. Ah! no more amid the battle, Shall my heart exulting swell-- Iris and Osiris guard thee-- Cleopatra! Rome! Farewell!

Good Bully! Go ahead, Jack! Give us some more, old fellow! And he generally did, much to everybody's satisfaction. We all loved Jack, the Poet of our mess. He sleeps, his battles o'er, in Hollywood.

The Singing man generally put in towards the last and sung us to bed. He was generally a diminutive man, with a sweet voice and a sweetheart at home. His songs had in them rosy lips, blue eyes, golden hair, pearly teeth, and all that sort of thing. Of course he would sing some good rolicking songs in order to give all a chance. And so, with hearty chorus, with many variations, with immense variations, and till about the third year of the war, when we began to think Maryland had breathed and burned long enough and ought to come. What part of her did come was first class. How the woods did ring with song. There were patriotic songs, romantic and love songs, sarcastic, comic and war songs, pirates' glees, plantation melodies, lullabies, good old hymn tunes, anthems, Sunday-school songs, and everything but vulgar and obscene songs — these were scarcely ever heard, and were nowhere in the army well received or encouraged.

The recruit — our latest acquisition — was so interesting. His nice, clean clothes, new hat, new shoes, trimming on his shirt front, letters and cross guns on his hat, new knife for all the fellows to borrow, nice comb for general use, nice little glass to shave by, good smoking tobacco, money in his pocket to lend out; oh! what a great convenience he was. How many things he had that a fellow could borrow, and how willing he was to go on guard, and get wet, and give away his rations, and bring water, and cut wood, and ride horses to water; and he was so clean and sweet, and his cheeks so rosy, all the fellows wanted to bunk with him under his nice new blanket, and impart to him some of their numerous and energetic tormenters.

And then it was so interesting to hear him talk. He knew so much about war, arms, tents, knapsacks, ammunition, marching, fighting, camping, cooking, shooting, and everything a soldier is and does. It is remarkable how much a recruit and how little an old soldier knows about such things. After a while the recruit forgets all, and is as ignorant as any veteran. How good the fellows were to a really gentlemanly boy; how they loved him I

The Scribe was a wonderful fellow and very useful. He could write a two-hours pass, sign the captain's name better than the captain himself, and endorse it respectfully forwarded approved, sign the colonel's name after respectfully forwarded approved, and then on up to the commanding officer. And do it so well! Nobody wanted anything better. The boys had great veneration for the scribe, and used him constantly.

The Mischievous man was very useful. He made fun. He knew how to volunteer to shave a fellow with a big beard and moustache. He wouldn't lend his razor, but he'd shave him. Very well — he shaves one cheek, one-half the chin, one side of the upper lip, puts his razor in his pocket, walks off, and leaves his customer the most one-sided chap in the army. He knew how to do something like this every day. What a treasure to a mess!

The Forager was a good fellow. He always divided with the mess. If there was buttermilk anywhere inside of ten miles he found it. Apples he could smell from afar off. If anybody was killing pork in the county he got the spareribs. If a man had a cider cart on the road he saw him first and bought him out. No hound had a keener scent, no eagle a sharper eye. How indefatigable he was. Distance, rivers, mountains, pickets, patrols, roll-calls — nothing could stop or hinder him. He never bragged about his exploits — simply brought in the spoils, laid them down and said, pitch in. Not a word of the weary miles he had traveled, how he begged or how much he paid — simply pitch in.

The Commissary man--he happened to be in our mess, never had any sugar over, any salt, any soda, any coffee — oh, no! But beg him, plead with him, bear with him when he says, Go way, boy! Am I the commissary-general? Have I got all the sugar in the Confederacy? Don't you know rations are short now? Then see him relax. Come here, my son, untie that bag there, and look in that old jacket and you will find another bag — a little bag — and look in there and you will find some sugar. Now go round and tell everybody in camp, won't you. Tell 'em all to come and get some sugar. Oh! know you won't. Oh yes! of course.

Time would fail me to tell of the lazy man, the brave man, the worthless man, the bully, and the ingenious man, the helpless man, the sensitive man, and the gentleman, but they are as familiar to the members of the mess as the honest man, who would not eat stolen pig, but would take a little of the gravy.

Every soldier remembers, indeed was personally acquainted with, the universal man. How he denied vehemently his own identity, and talked about poison oak, and heat and itch, and all those things, and strove in the presence of those who knew-how-it-was-themselves to prove his absolute freedom from anything like universality. Poor fellow, sulphur internally and externally would not do. Alas! his only hope was to acknowledge his unhappy state, and stand, in the presence of his peers, confessed — a lousy man.

The Boys in blue generally preferred to camp in the open fields. The Confed's took to the woods, and so the Confederate camp was not as orderly or as systematically arranged, but the most picturesque of the two. The blazing fire lit up the forms and faces and trees around it with a ruddy glow, but only deepened the gloom of the surrounding woods, so that the soldier pitied the poor fellows away off on guard in the darkness, and hugged himself and felt how good it was to be with the fellows around the fire. How companionable was the blaze and the glow of the coals! They seemed to warm the heart as well as the foot. The imagination seemed to feed on the glowing coals and surrounding gloom, and when the soldier gazed on the fire, peace, liberty, home, strolls in the woods and streets with friends, the church, the school, playmates and sweethearts all passed before him, and even the dead came to mind. Sadly, yet pleasantly, he thought of the loved and lost, and the future loomed up, and the possibility of death and prison and the grief at home would stir his heart, and the tears would fall trickling to the ground. Then was the time to fondle the little gifts from home. Simple things — the little pincushion, the needlecase with thread and buttons, the embroidered tobacco bag, and the knitted gloves. Then the time to gaze on photographs, and to read and re-read the letter telling of the struggles at home and the coming box of good things — butter and bread, and toasted and ground coffee, and sugar cakes and pies, and other comfortable things saved by self-denial for the soldier, brother and son. Then the time to call on God to spare, protect and bless the dear, defenceless, help-less ones at home. Then the time for high resolves; to read to himself his duty; to re-enlist for the war. Then his heart grew to his comrades, his general and his country; and as the trees, swept by the wintry winds, moaned around him, the soldier slept and dreamed, and dreamed of home, sweet home.

Those whose knowledge of war and its effects on the character of the soldier was gleaned from the history of the wars of Europe and of ancient times, greatly dreaded the demoralization which they supposed would result from the Confederate war for independence, and their solicitude was directed mainly towards the young men of Virginia and the South who were to compose the armies of the Confederate States. It was feared by many that the bivouac, the camp fires and the march would accustom the ears of their bright and innocent boys to obscenity, oaths and blasphemy, and forever destroy that purity of mind and soul which was their priceless possession when they bid farewell to home and mother. Some feared the destruction of the battle-field. The wiser feared hardship and disease; and others, more than all, the destruction of morals and everything good and pure in character. That the fears of the last named were realized in some cases cannot be denied; but that the general result was demoralization can be denied, and the contrary demonstrated.

Let us consider the effect of camp life upon a pure and noble boy; and to make the picture complete, let us go to his home and witness the parting.

The boy is clothed as a soldier. His pockets and his haversack are stored with little conveniences made by the loving hands of mother, sister and sweetheart, and the sad yet proud hour has arrived. Sisters, smiling through their tears, filled with commingled pride and sorrow, kiss and embrace their great hero.

The mother, with calm heroism suppressing her tender maternal grief, impresses upon his lips a fervent, never-to-be-forgotten kiss, presses him to her heart, and resigns him to God, his country and his honor.

The father, last to part, presses his hand, gazes with ineffable love into his bright eyes, and fearing to trust his feelings for a more lengthy farewell, says, Good bye, my boy; God bless you, be a man!

Let those scoff who will; but let them know that such a parting is itself a new and wonderful power, a soul-enlarging, purifying and elevating power, worth the danger, toil and suffering of the soldier. The sister's tears, the father's words, the mother's kiss, planted in the memory of that boy will surely bring forth fruit beautiful as a mother's love.

As he journeys to the camp, how dear do all at home become! Oh! what holy tears he sheds! His heart, how tender! Then, as he nears the line, and sees for the first time the realities of war, the passing sick and weary, and the wounded and bloody dead, his soldier spirit is born; he smiles, his chest expands, his eyes brighten, his heart swells with pride; he hurries on, and soon stands in the magic circle around the glowing fire, the admired and loved pet of a dozen true hearts. Is he happy? Aye! Never before has he felt such glorious, swelling, panting joy. He's a soldier now! He is put on guard. No longer the object of care and solicitude, he stands in the solitude of the night, himself a guardian of those who sleep. Courage is his now. He feels he is trusted as a man, and is ready at once nobly to perish in the defence of his comrades.

He marches. Dare he murmur or complain? No; the eyes of all are upon him, and endurance grows silently, till pain and weariness are familiar, and cheerfully borne.

At home he would be pitied and petted; but now he must endure, or have the contempt of the strong spirits around him.

He is hungry. So are others; and he must not only bear the privation, but he must divide his pitiful meal when he gets it with his comrades; and so generosity strikes down selfishness. In a thousand ways he is tried, and that by sharp critics. His smallest faults are necessarily apparent, for, in the varying conditions of the soldier, every quality is put to the test. If he shows the least cowardice he is undone. His courage must never fail. He must be manly and independent, or he will be told he's a baby, ridiculed, teased and despised. When war assumes her serious dress, he sees the helplessness of women and children, he hears their piteous appeals, and chivalry burns him till he does his utmost of sacrifice and effort to protect and comfort and cheer them.

It is a mistake to suppose that the older men in the army encouraged vulgarity and obscenity in the young recruit; for even those who themselves indulged in these would frown on the first show of them in a boy, and without hesitation put him down mercilessly. No parent could watch a boy as closely as his mess-mates did and could, because they saw him at all hours of the day and night, dependent on himself alone: and were merciless critics, who demanded more of their protege than they were willing to submit to themselves.

The young soldier's piety had to perish ignominiously, or else assume a boldness and strength which nothing else could so well impart as the temptations, sneers and dangers of the army. Religion had to be bold, practical and courageous, or die.

In the army the young man learned to value men for what they were, and not on account of education, wealth or station; and so his attachments when formed were sincere and durable, and he learned what constitutes a man, and a desirable and reliable friend. The stern demands upon the boy, and the unrelenting criticisms of the mess, soon bring to mind the gentle forbearance, and kind remonstrance, and loving counsels of parents and homefolks, and while he thinks, he weeps, and loves, and reverences, and yearns after the things against which he once strove and under which he chafed and complained.

Home, father, mother, sister — oh! how far away; oh! how dear. Himself how contemptible I ever to have felt cold and indifferent to such love. Then, how vividly he recalls the warm pressure of his mother's lips on the forehead of her boy. How he loves his mother! See him as he fills his pipe from the silk embroidered bag. There is his name embroidered carefully, beautifully by his sister's hand. Does he forget her? Does he not now love her more sincerely and truly and tenderly than ever? Could he love her quite as much had he never parted, never longed to see her and could not; never been uncertain if she was safe, never felt she might be homeless, helpless, insulted, a refugee from home? Can he ever now look on a little girl and not treat her kindly, gently and lovingly — remembering his sister? A boy having ordinary natural goodness, and the home supports described, and the constant watching of men, ready to criticise, could but improve. The least exhibition of selfishness, cowardice, vulgarity, dishonesty, or meanness of any kind, brought down the dislike of every man upon him, and persistence in any one disreputable practice, or habitual laziness and worthlessness, resulted in complete ostracism, loneliness and misery; while on the other hand he might, by good behavior and genuine generosity and courage, secure unbounded love and sincere respect from all. Visits home, after prolonged absence and danger, open to the young soldier new treasures — new, because, though possessed always, never before felt and realized.

The affection once seen only in every day attention, as he reaches home, breaks out in unrestrained vehemence. The warm embrace of the hitherto dignified father, the ecstatic pleasure beaming in the mother's eye, the proud welcome of the sister, and the wild enthusiasm even of the old black mammy, crowd on him the knowledge of their love and make him braver, and stronger, and nobler. He's a hero from that hour! Death for these — how easy!! The dangers of the battle-field, and the demands upon his energy, strength and courage, not only strengthen, but almost create new faculties of mind and heart. The death, sudden and terrible, of those dear to him, and the imperative necessity of standing to his duty while the wounded cry and groan, and while his heart yearns after them to help them, and the terrible thirst, and hunger, and heat, and weariness — all these teach a boy self-denial, attachment to duty, and the value of peace and safety; and instead of hardening him, as some suppose they do, make him to pity and love even the enemy of his country who bleeds and dies for his country.

The acquirement of subordination certainly is a useful one, and that the soldier perforce has. And that not in an abject, cringing way, but as realizing the necessity of it, and seeing the result of it in the good order and consequent effectiveness and success of the army as a whole, but more particularly of his own company and detachment.

And if the soldier rises to office, the responsibility of command, attention to detail and minutiae, the critical eyes of his subordinates, and the demands of his superiors, all withdraw him from the enticements of vice, and mould him into a.solid, substantial character, both capable and willing to meet and overcome difficulties.

The effect of outdoor life on the physical constitution is undoubtedly good, and as the physical improves, the mental is improved; and as the mind is enlightened, the spirit is enabled to grasp the purifying truths of the gospel, and thus the whole man is benefited.

Who can calculate the benefit derived from the contemplation of the beautiful in nature, as the soldier sees? Mountains and valleys, dreary wastes and verdant fields, rivers, sequestered homes, stirred by the sounds of war; quiet, sleepy villages, as they lay in the morning light, doomed to the flames at evening: this enlarges the mind, and stores it with a panorama whose pictures he may pass before his mental vision with quiet pleasure year after year for a lifetime.

War is horrible, but still it is in a sense a privilege to have lived in time of war. The emotions are never so stirred as then. Imagination takes her highest flights, poetry blazes, song stirs the soul, and every noble attribute is brought into full play.

It does seem that the production of one Lee and one Jackson is worth much blood and treasure, and the building of a noble character all the toil and sacrifice of war. The camp fires of the Army of Northern Virginia were not places of revelry and debauchery. They often exhibited gentle scenes of love and humanity, and the purest sentiments and gentlest feelings of man were there admired and loved, while vice and debauch, in any, from highest to lowest, were condemned and punished more severely than they are among those who stay at home and shirk the dangers and toils of the soldier's life. Indeed, the demoralizing effects of the late war were far more visible at home among the skulks, and bombproofs, and suddenly diseased, than in the army.

And the demoralized men of to-day are not those who served in the army.

The defaulters, the renegades, the bummers and cheats, are the boys who enjoyed fat places and salaries and easy comfort — while the solid, respected and reliable men of the community are those who did their duty as soldiers, and having learned to suffer in war have preferred to labor and suffer and earn rather than steal — in peace.

And, strange to say, it is not those who suffered most and lost most, who fought and bled — who saw friend after friend fall, who wept the dead and buried their hopes — it is not these who now are bitter and dissatisfied, and quarrelsome and fretful, and growling and complaining — no, they are the peaceful, submissive, law-abiding and order-loving of the country, ready to join hands with all good men in every good work, and prove themselves as brave and good in peace as they were stubborn and unconquerable in war.

Many a weak, puny boy was returned to his parents a robust, healthy, manly man. Many a timid, helpless boy went home a brave, independent man. Many a wild, reckless boy, went home sobered, serious and trustworthy, and many whose career at home was wicked and blasphemous, went home changed in heart, with principles fixed, to comfort and sustain the old ages of those who gave them to their country, expecting not to receive them again. Men learned that life was passable and enjoyable without a roof or even a tent, to shelter from the storm — that cheerfulness was compatible with cold and hunger, and that a man without money, food or shelter, need not feel utterly hopeless, but might, by employing his wits, find something to eat where he never found it before; and feel that, like a terrapin, he might make himself at home wherever he might be. Men did actually become as independent of the imaginary necessities as the very wild beasts. And can a man learn all this and not know better than another how to economize what he has and how to appreciate the numberless superfluities of life? Is he not made, by the knowledge he has of how little he really needs, more independent and less liable to dishonest exertions to procure a competency?

If there were any true men in the South, any brave, any noble, they were in the army. If there are good and true men in the South now, they would go into the army for similar cause. And to prove that the army demoralized, you must prove that the men who came out of it are the worst in the country to-day. Who will try it?

Strange as it may seem, religion flourished in the army. So great was the work of the chaplains, that whole volumes have been written to describe the religious history of the four years of war. Officers who were ungodly men found themselves restrained alike by the grandeur of the piety of the great chiefs and the earnestness of the humble privates around them. Thousands embraced the Gospel, and died triumphing over death! Instead of the degradation so dreaded, was the strange ennobling and purifying which made men despise all the things for which they ordinarily strive, and glory in the sternest hardships, the most bitter self-denials and cruel suffering and death. Love for home, kindred and friends intensified, was denied the gratification of its yearnings, and made the motive for more complete surrender to the stern demands of duty. Discipline, the cold master of our enemies, never caught up with the gallant devotion of our Christian soldiers, and the science of war quailed before the majesty of an army singing hymns.

Hypocrisy went home to dwell with the able-bodied skulkers, being too closely watched in the army and too thoroughly known to thrive. And so the camp fire often lighted the pages of the best Book, while the soldier read the orders of the Captain of his salvation. And often did the songs of Zion ring loud and clear on the cold night air, while the muskets rattled and the guns boomed in the distance, each intensifying the significance of the other, testing the sincerity of the Christian while trying the courage of the soldier. Stripped of all sensual allurements, and offering only self-denial, patience and endurance, the Gospel took hold of the deepest and purest motives of the soldiers, won them thoroughly, and made the army as famous for its forbearance, temperance, respect for women and children, sobriety, honesty and morality, as it was for endurance and invincible courage.

Never was there an army where feeble old age received such sympathy, consideration and protection; and women, deprived of their natural protectors, fled from the advancing hosts of the enemy and found safe retreat and chivalrous protection and shelter in the lines of the Army of Northern Virginia; while children played in the camps, delighted to nestle in the arms of the roughly clad but tender-hearted soldiers. Such was the behavior of the troops on the campaign in Pennsylvania, that the the citizens of Gettysburg have in my presence expressed wonder and surprise at their perfect immunity from insult, violence, or even intrusion, when their city was occupied by and in complete possession of the Boys in Gray.

Rev. J. William Jones, D. D., Secretary Southern Historical Society:

Dear Sir — In the account of published by your Society in the June No. of the Southern Magazine, there are some errors as to the strength of the Army of Northern Virginia in the beginning of June, 1862. As they contradict previous statements of mine, I beg leave to point them out. In the statement of the strength of Holmes' division, at least 4,000 brought by him to the army from Petersburg, June 1st, are omitted; only those brought at the end of the month are referred to — they may have been 6,500.

In that of Longstreet's, the strength was near 14,000 June 1st. The six brigades that then joined it had been reduced to 9,000 when they marched, late in August, to Northern Virginia. The cavalry could not have exceeded 3,000, nor the reserve artillery 1,000, June 1st.

G. W. Smith's division of five brigades amounted to near 13,000 June 1st; only two of these brigades, guessed by the author to number 5,300, are mentioned, under Whiting, as belonging to Jackson's command. Jackson's and Ewell's divisions are set down at 9,000. General Ewell, with whom I had repeated conversations on the subject, told me that he had in his 8,000 men. General Jackson had a brigade more, and at the first of the year amounted to 10,200.

General Lawton had about 3,500 men at Cold Harbor, but (he still says) brought 6,000 into the army, many being left behind in Jackson's march — as rapid as usual — and they unaccustomed to marching, having served only in garrison.

General Ripley's troops are also omitted. He reported to the Adjutant-General of the army, the afternoon of May 31st, his arrival in Richmond with 5,000 men to join it.

The author gives our loss at Seven Pines, on the Williamsburg road, at above 4,800. General Longstreet, in his official report dated June 11th, when, if ever, the number of killed and wounded must have been known, gives it roughly at 3,000. General D. H. Hill, whose division did all the fighting on that road from three o'clock (when it began) to six, and four-fifths of it from six to seven, when it ended, set his down at 2,500--leaving 500 for that of R. H. Anderson, who came into the first line at six, on the 31st, and Pickett's, and part (two regiments) of Pryor's, June 31st, which is consistent. According to the writer, two brigades and a half in two hours lost about as heavily as four in four hours of harder fighting.

Very truly yours,

Selma, Ala., March 11th, 1875. Dr. J. Wm. Jones, Secretary Southern Historical Society, Richmond, Va.:

Dear Sir — I wish to correct my narrative of the services of the Ironclad Virginia, in which the Teaser, Beaufort and Raleigh are called tugs. In the fight they did good service as gunboats, and should have been so designated. The Beaufort had a converted, single-banded rifle gun, 32-pound calibre, and a 24-pound carronade. The Teaser and Raleigh were, I think, similarly armed.

Please annex this to my narrative, and you will oblige,

Your obedient servant,

Rev. John William Jones, Secretary of the Southern Historical Society:

Sir — The last September number of the Southern Magazine contained an article in relation to the capture of the Federal ironclad Indianola. The article, in the absence of other information, draws its narrative principally from letters published in the Northern press during the war. It would manifestly be unjust to the officers and men who effected the capture to allow the facts stated in the article to remain the only record in the archives of the Historical Society. I deem it proper, therefore, to vindicate the truth of history by transmitting to you the order of General Taylor organizing the expedition, the official report of the engagement with and capture of the Indianola, which report, I believe, has never yet been published.

For the better understanding of the report, it is well to briefly describe the Confederate rams that effected the capture.

The Webb was an ordinary tow-boat, engaged before the war in towing and piloting vessels in and out the Mississippi, and in no way materially changed or strengthened, though braced by cross pieces of timber. A row of cotton bales extended in front of her machinery, leaving its sides and rear entirely bare. The armament consisted of a rifled and banded 32-pounder, mounted on the bow, without any semblance of protection, and of two brass six-pound guns, and she was manned by about 70 artillerists and sharpshooters. There was no cover or protection for the men.

The Queen of the West was an ordinary steamboat of the Western rivers, built for peaceful purposes ten years before the war, and converted by the Federals into a ram.

A wooden frame was built around her machinery to enclose it, and outside of this frame two tiers of cotton bales extended from the main deck to the cabin deck — but this arrangement was so defective, that it was unable to protect the machinery from the fire of a smooth-bore 32-pound gun, which, at the distance of over 1,200 yards, disabled her machinery, and thereby effected her capture by the Confederates when she ascended Red river and came under the fire of Fort DeRussey.

The armament of the Queen in her engagement with the Indianola consisted of only what was captured with her, and was composed of a 30-pounder Parrot gun mounted on her bow, and utterly unprotected, and a 20 pounder Parrot gun and three 12-pounder howitzers on her cabin deck.

Around these latter guns was a wall composed of 3-inch plank, which, while merely affording a screen, became a source of increased hazard and peril when exposed to artillery fire. She was manned with about eighty artillerists and sharp-shooters.

In the beginning of 1863 the Federal forces held the whole of the Mississippi river, except that portion lying between Vicksburg and Port Hudson.

It was essential for the Confederates to retain, as long as possible, this small link, as it served as the only connection between the Trans-Mississippi and the East.

If this narrow section of the river was lost, Texas, West Louisiana and Arkansas would be practically severed from the Confederacy, and Vicksburg and Port Hudson shut off from the supplies of provisions then much needed, while the constant stream of cattle which were being driven in thousands from Texas, and crossed over the river near Red river to supply the Western armies, would be interrupted and destroyed.

Major-General Richard Taylor, then commanding the Western District of Louisiana, fully appreciated the vital importance of maintaining his connection with the east of the river, and when in the beginning of February, 1863, he learned that the Queen of the West had run past our batteries at Vicksburg, he ordered one or two steamboats then on Red river to be prepared to pursue her, but it chanced that the Queen ascended Red river, and engaged his batteries at Fort DeRussey, and was captured. The Queen was immediately brought to Alexandria, and while she was being repaired, information reached General Taylor that the Indianola had run past the Vicksburg batteries, and the control of the river was again wrested from us.

General Taylor, whose marvelous energy is well known to all who ever served under him, pushed the repairs on the Queen with all the means at his command. Great wood fires were lighted on the shore, and the work continued day and night; and when, on the 19th February, the Queen left Alexandria, work was still going on, and mechanics were carried down to complete her while steaming towards the enemy.

The capture of the Indianola restored to the Confederates for several weeks the command of the Mississippi river between Vicksburg and Port Hudson, and General Taylor was able to forward immense supplies to Port Hudson and Vicksburg, which enabled the defence of these strongholds to be protracted.

But in the spring Admiral Farragut came up from the Gulf, and gave his hand to Admiral Porter, and the great river passed from the power of the Confederates.

Yours, respectfully,

The seacoast defences occupied the attention of the Confederate Government as soon as it became apparent that the war was inevitable. The line of coast extending from the entrance of the Chesapeake bay to the mouth of the Rio Grande presented innumerable bays, inlets and harbors, into which vessels could run either for predatory excursions or with the intention of actual invasion. The Federals having the command of the sea, it was certain that they would take advantage of this open condition of the coast to employ their naval force as soon as it could be collected, not only to enforce the blockade which had been declared, but also for making inroads along our unprotected coast.

That the system of defence adopted may be understood, I will describe a little in detail the topography of the coast. On the coast of North Carolina are Albemarle and Pamlico sounds, penetrating trating far into the interior; then the Cape Fear river, connecting with the ocean by two channels, the southwest channel being defended by a small inclosed fort and a water battery. On the coast of South Carolina are Georgetown and Charleston harbors. A succession of islands extend along the coast of South Carolina and Georgia, separated from the main land by a channel, which is navigable for vessels of moderate draft from Charleston to Fernandina, Florida. There are fewer assailable points on the Gulf than on the Atlantic. Pensacola, Mobile, and the mouth of the Mississippi were defended by works that had hitherto been regarded as sufficiently strong to repulse any naval attack that might be made upon them. Immediately after the bombardment and capture of Fort Sumter, the work of seacoast defence was begun and carried forward as rapidly as the limited means of the Confederacy would permit. Roanoke Island and other points on Albemarle and Pamlico sounds were fortified. Batteries were established on the southeast entrance of Cape Fear river, and the works on the southwest entrance of that river were strengthened. Defences were constructed at Georgetown, and at all assailable points on the northeast coast of South Carolina. The works of Charleston harbor were greatly strengthened by earthworks and floating batteries. The defences from Charleston down the coast of South Carolina and Georgia were confined chiefly to the islands and salient points bearing upon the channels leading inland. Defensive works were erected at all important points along the coast. Many of the defences, being injudiciously located and hastily erected, offered but little resistance to the enemy when attacked. These defects were not surprising, when we take into consideration the inexperience of the engineers, and the long line of seacoast to be defended. As soon as a sufficient naval force had been collected, an expedition under the command of General Butler was sent to the coast of North Carolina, and captured several important points. A second expedition, under Admiral Dupont and General Sherman, was sent to make a descent on the coast of South Carolina. On the 27th of November, Dupont attacked the batteries that were designed to defend Port Royal harbor, and almost without resistance carried them and gained possession of Port Royal. This is the best harbor in South Carolina, and is the strategic key to all the south Atlantic coast. Later, Burnside captured Roanoke Island, and established himself in eastern North Carolina without resistance. The rapid fall of Roanoke Island and Port Royal harbor struck consternation into the hearts of the inhabitants along the entire coast. The capture of Port Royal gave the Federals the entire possession of Beaufort island, which afforded a secure place of rest for the army, while the harbor gave a safe anchorage for the fleet. Beaufort island almost fills a deep indenture in the main shore, being separated the greater part of its extent by a narrow channel, which is navigable its entire circuit. Its northern extremity extends to within a few miles of the Charleston and Savannah Railroad. The main road from Port Royal to Pocotaligo crosses the channel at this point. The evacuation of Hilton Head, on the southwestern extremity of Beaufort island, followed the capture of Port Royal. This exposed Savannah, only about twenty-five miles distant, to an attack from that direction. At the same time, the Federals having command of Helena bay, Charleston was liable to be assailed from north Edisto or Stono inlet, and the railroad could have been reached without opposition by the road from Port Royal to Pocotaligo.

Such was the state of affairs when General Lee reached Charleston, about the first of December, 1861, to assume the command of the departments of North Carolina, Georgia and Florida. His vigorous mind at once comprehended the situation, and with his accustomed energy he met the difficulties that presented themselves. Directing fortifications to be constructed on the Stono and the Edisto and the Combahee, he fixed his headquarters at Coosawhatchie, the point most threatened, and directed defences to be erected opposite Hilton Head, and on the Broad and Saltcatchie, to cover Savannah. These were the points requiring immediate attention. He superintended in person the works overlooking the approach to the railroad from Port Royal, and soon infused into his troops a part of his own energy. The works he had planned rose with magical rapidity. A few days after his arrival at Coosawhatchie, Dupont and Sherman sent their first reconnoissance in that direction, which was met and repulsed by shot from the newly erected batteries, and now, whether the Federals advanced towards the railroad or turned in the direction of Charleston or Savannah, they were arrested by the Confederate batteries. The people, seeing the Federals repulsed at every point, regained their confidence, and with it their energy.

Having received orders to report to General Lee, I joined him in December, a few days after he had assumed command of the Department, and was assigned the duty of Chief of Artillery and Ordnance.

The most important points being now secured against immediate attack, the General proceeded to organize a system of seacoast defence different from that which had previously been adopted. He withdrew the troops and material from those works which had been established on the islands and salient points which he could not defend, to a strong interior line, where the effect of the Federal naval force would be neutralized. After a careful reconnoissance of the coast, he designated such points as he considered it necessary to fortify. The most important positions on this extensive line were Georgetown, Charleston, Pocotaligo, Coosawhatchie and Savannah. Coosawhatchie being central, could communicate with either Charleston or Savannah in two or three hours by railroad; so in case of an attack, they could support each other. The positions between Coosawhatchie and Savannah, and those between Charleston and Coosawhatchie, could be reinforced from the positions contiguous to them. There was thus a defensive relation throughout the entire line.

At this time there was a great want of guns suitable for seacoast defence. Those in use had been on the coast for more than thirty years, and were of too light a calibre to cope with the powerful ordnance that had been introduced into the Federal navy. It was, therefore, desirable to arm the batteries now constructed with heavy guns. The Ordnance Department being prepared to cast guns of the heaviest calibre, requisitions were made for eight and ten-inch columbiads for the batteries bearing on the channels that would be entered by gunboats. The heavy smooth bore guns were preferred to the rifle cannons for fixed batteries, as experiments had shown that the crushing effect of the solid round shot was more destructive than the small breach and deeper penetration of the rifle bolts. The difference of range was not important, as beyond a certain distance the aim could not be accurate. By the last of December many batteries had been completed, and other works were being rapidly constructed. When the new year of 1862 opened, there was a greater feeling of security among the people of South Carolina and Georgia than had been felt for several months.

The information received from every quarter led to the belief that the Federal Government was making preparations for a powerful attack upon either Charleston or Savannah. In anticipation of this attack, every effort was made to strengthen these places. General Ripley, who commanded at Charleston, and General Lawton, the commander at Savannah, ably seconded General Lee in the execution of his plans, while Generals Evans, Drayton and Mercer assisted him at other points. The Ordnance Department, under the direction of its energetic chief, Colonel Gorgas, filled with wonderful promptitude the various demands made upon it. This greatly facilitated the completion of the defences.

The Federal troops on Beaufort island were inactive during the months of December, January and February, and the fleet was in the offing, blockading Charleston and Savannah. About the first of March the Federal gunboats entered the Savannah river by way of the channel leading from Hilton Head. The small Confederate fleet was too weak to engage them, so they retained undisputed possession of the river. They then established batteries to intercept the communication between Fort Pulaski and the city of Savannah. This fort commands the entrance to the Savannah river, twelve miles below the city.

A few days after getting possession of the river the Federals landed a force, under General Gilmore, on the opposite side of the fort. General Gilmore, having completed his batteries, opened fire about the first of April. Having no hope of succor, Fort Pulaski, after striking a blow for honor, surrendered with about five hundred men.

General Lee received an order about the middle of March assigning him to duty in Richmond, in obedience to which he soon after repaired to that place. The works that he had so skilfully planned were now near completion. In three months he had established a line of defence from Wingaw bay, on the northeast coast of South Carolina, to the mouth of Saint Mary's river in Georgia--a distance of more than two hundred miles. This line not only served for a present defence, but offered an impenetrable barrier to the combined Federal forces operating on the coast, until they were carried by General Sherman in his unopposed march through Georgia and South Carolina, near the close of the war.

That the importance of these works may be properly under-stood, it will be necessary to know what they accomplished. In the first place, they protected the most important agricultural section of the Confederacy from the incursions of the enemy, and covered the most important line of communication between the Mississippi and the Potomac. Besides these material advantages, it produced great moral effect in giving the inhabitants of the Southern States a feeling of security and confidence.

We perceive in this campaign of General Lee in Georgia and South Carolina results achieved by a single genius equal to those which could have been accomplished by an incalculable force.

There is, perhaps, no subject connected with the late war which more imperatively demands discussion at our hands than the Prison Question. That the Confederate Government should have been charged in the heat of the passions of the war with a systematic cruelty to prisoners was to be expected. The pulpits, the press, and the Government reports, which were so busy denouncing Rebel barbarities that they had no censure for the McNeils, the Turchins, the Butlers, the Milroys, the Hunters, the Shermans, and the Sheridans, who, under the flag of Liberty, perpetrated crimes which disgrace the age, were not to be expected to be over scrupulous in originating and retailing slanders against the Government and people of the South. But it was hoped that after the passions of the war had cooled, and the real facts had become accessible, that these sweeping charges would be at least modified, and these bitter denunciations cease.

We have been doomed to a sad disappointment. The leader of the Radical party (Mr. Blaine) has recently in his place in the United States Congress revived all of the charges which twelve years ago fired the Northern heart, and has marred the music of the Centennial chimes, with such language as this:

Mr. Davis was the author, knowingly, deliberately, guiltily and wilfully, of the gigantic murder and crime at Andersonville. And I here, before God, measuring my words, knowing their full extent and import, declare that neither the deeds of the Duke of Alva in the Low countries, nor the massacre of Saint Bartholomew, nor the thumb-screws and engines of torture of the Spanish Inquisition, begin to compare in atrocity with the hideous crimes of Andersonville.

He then quotes and endorses the following extract from the report of the ex parte committee of Congress who examined this question at a time when passion was at its flood tide:

The subsequent history of Andersonville has startled and shocked the world with a tale of horror, of woe and death before unheard and unknown to civilization. No pen can describe, no painter sketch, no imagination comprehend its fearful and unutterable iniquity. It would seem as if the concentrated madness of earth and hell had found its final lodgment in the breasts of those who inaugurated the rebellion and controlled the policy of the Confederate Government, and that the prison at Andersonville had been selected for the most terrible human sacrifice which the world had ever seen. Into its narrow walls were crowded thirty-five thousand enlisted men, many of them the bravest and best, the most devoted and heroic of those grand armies which carried the flag of their country to final victory. For long and weary months here they suffered, maddened, were murdered, and died. Here they lingered, unsheltered from the burning rays of a tropical sun by day, and drenching and deadly dews by night, in every stage of mental and physical disease, hungered, emaciated, starving, maddened; festering with unhealed wounds; gnawed by the ravages of scurvy and gangrene; with swollen limb and distorted visage; covered with vermin which they had no power to extirpate; exposed to the flooding rains which drove them drowning from the miserable holes in which, like swine, they burrowed; parched with thirst and mad with hunger; racked with pain or prostrated with the weakness of dissolution; with naked limbs and matted hair; filthy with smoke and mud; soiled with the very excrement from which their weakness would not permit them to escape; eaten by the gnawing worms which their own wounds had engendered; with no bed but the earth; no covering save the cloud or the sky; these men, these heroes, born in the image of God, thus crouching and writhing in their terrible torture and calculating barbarity, stand forth in history as a monument of the surpassing horrors of Andersonville as it shall be seen and read in all future time, realizing in the studied torments of their prison-house the ideal of Dante's Inferno and Milton's Hell.

So industriously have these statements been circulated — so generally have they entered into the literature of the North--so widely have they been believed, that the distinguished gentleman from Georgia (Hon. B. H. Hill), who ventured upon a calm reply, in which he ably refuted the assertions of Mr. Blaine, has been denounced by the Radical press as a co-conspirator with Jeff. Davis to murder Union prisoners, and has been told by even some of our own papers that his speech was very unfortunate.

As we have in the archives of our Society the means of triumphantly vindicating the Confederate Government from the charge of cruelty to prisoners, as we have been appealed to by leading men North and South and in Europe to give the facts in reference to this matter, and as the present seems an opportune time, we have decided to enter upon the task.

We have only to premise that our work is mainly one of compilation, and that our chief difficulty is which documents to select from the vast number which we have in our collection.