The Project Gutenberg eBook, Company G, by A. R. (Albert Rowe) Barlow

COMPANY G.
A RECORD OF THE SERVICES OF ONE
COMPANY OF THE 157TH N. Y.
VOLS. IN THE WAR OF
THE REBELLION.
FROM SEPT. 19, 1862, TO JULY 10, 1865.
INCLUDING THE ROSTER OF THE COMPANY.

BY A. R. BARLOW.

A. W. Hall, Publisher,
Syracuse, N.Y.
1899.

PREFATORY.

The production of this little work has long been contemplated. It has seemed right that the records of some of the volunteer organizations sent from Canastota and vicinity, during the War of the Rebellion, should be recorded in such a form as would preserve to the families of those boys, their deeds in marching, in fighting, in suffering for the old flag. In an effort to accomplish such an undertaking as this, the patronage of the general public is not considered. The book, if requiting for the expense of publication, will be considered a success financially.

As a literary effort, no claim is filed, unless one is admissible for general accuracy in the matter of events and dates. Some critics may take exception to the attempt herein made, to individualize a collective noun and yet retain plurality; and in the same measure, pervert mood and tense. It is admitted that the license is unique. Quite likely other departures from good old grammatical paths will be noted. Let it be remembered, however, that the experiences of Co. G were, as a whole, unique, and to harmonize the literal with the actual, the record should be drawn uniquely.

No apology is offered for trivial treatment of some of the subjects; in truth, they are deserving of severe handling. If lack of respect for commanding officers is shown, the explanation given is, that they have been removed from the high pedestals of war-gods and are considered only as men.

It is in no bitter sense the men who fought Co. G are termed rebels. They were in rebellion and were known to the boys as rebels, or johnny rebs. A false delicacy only would prompt the writer to deprive those Southern men of a title which, apparently, they bore with pride.

As stated, this is not a work for the public eye. It is an offering to comrades, from a comrade who marched with them, and experienced with them the fortunes and misfortunes of war. And in performing this work, care has been taken to omit such occurrences as might not be understood by others than the actors; and while thus avoiding over-coloring by a faithful portraiture of events, and suppressing nothing worthy of record Co. G go into history.

In performing this duty, individual names have been used, illustrative of passing events. Should any person feel aggrieved over such freedom, let it be known, it was, indeed, born of familiarity with the subjects, and is indulged in a spirit of good comradeship, without thought of disparagement.

No man who marched with those boys can think of them unkindly. If there were ever differences of a serious nature, the writer is unmindful of them.

To travel over the old roads, to hunger and to thirst again; to sleep where night found them; in sunshine, in storm out on the picket-line; to toss upon a bed of suffering and weaken, day by day, for lack of tender care;—in brief, to march away to the wars and enjoy the rich compensation of an honorable return, all this and more, has been lived again while preparing this record. And so with the old boys, as long as they live, will they by this effort be enabled to travel Virginia roads in all kinds of weather, without danger of sticking fast in the mud, or of being stifled amid clouds of gray dust.

Why Co. G did not cut a broader swath along the pathway of glorious attainment, they cannot understand. They were a willing body of men, and were of a regiment of noble hearts. Misfortunes of war, simply, were not the only elements at work defeating their best endeavors. The true causes can be learned, only, in a huge compendium of tragical, whimsical and amusing facts, concealed within the folios of that unwritten or mythical history of the war, which never will be published, a history that would tumble war-idols to the ground, and elevate men who have passed into obscurity.

But Co. G have never permitted their escutcheon to lie prone in the dust, that they might more readily engage in wrangling over such small matters as position and preference. They do not grumble, they do not boast. They learned, thirty-five years ago, to accept the inevitable, which has been awarded to them in large quantities.

Co. G were boys of Lenox, who served in the name of Lenox. They belonged, then to Lenox, as her offering in the war, and their record is a part of the history of the town. Divested of verbiage, their deeds will still be found honorable and manly. For, as once said the lamented Capt. Frank, Co. G did "as well as any of them."

A few words should be given in memory of the dead, who, in life, stood shoulder to shoulder with the boys of Co. G Dead?—a word applied to express a religious belief; but how inexpressive of a new-birth.

"Death is but another name for change.

The weary shuffle off their mortal coil,

And think to slumber in eternal night.

But, lo! the man, tho' dead is living still;

Unclothed, is clothed upon, and his Mortality

Is swallowed up of Life."

Thus sang an inspired woman, and thus shall it be said of the boys who gave their lives for the flag, and for their comrades who shall follow them. And some day, upon the great plain of Light, the hosts will once more marshal for a grand review.

ROSTER OF CO. G, 157TH N.Y. VOLS.

• CAPTAINS.
• Abraham Tuttle.
• [1] Harrison Frank.
• [2] Lafayette McWilliams.

• LIEUTENANTS.
• Maurice D. Bailey.
• Harrison Frank.
• Marshall Hemstreet.
• [2] Frank E. Gates.
• [2] Robert E. Grant.
• [2] Jerome Forbes.
• Clark Pierce.

• ORDERLY SERGEANTS.
• Israel P. Moore.
• Marshall Hemstreet.
• Frank E. Gates.
• [2] John H. Roe.
• Jerome Forbes.
• Hubbard Suits.

• SERGEANTS.
• Marshall Hemstreet.
• Frank E. Gates.
• Henry C. Jarvis.
• John H. Roe.
• James B. Hooper.
• [2] Nicholas Binges.
• John H. Fancher.
• Wm. H. Barlow.
• [2] Harvey Lindsley.

• CORPORALS.
• Jerome Forbes.
• [2] Irwin A. Sayles.
• [2] James B. Hooper.
• Clarence L. Spencer.
• [2] Asa E. New.
• Wm. J. Peck.
• Wm. H. Barlow.
• Nicholas Binges.
• Hubbard Suits.
• [2] Charles A. Near.
• Daniel A. Betsinger.
• [2] Albert R. Barlow.
• [2] Jerry Murphy.
• [2] William Miller.
• Wm. H. Kimball.

• MUSICIAN.
• W. H. Perry.

• TEAMSTER.
• Wm. G. Johnson.

• COOKS.
• William Mallows.
• Ziba Cloyes.
• Patrick Matthews.

• PRIVATES.
• [2] Amos Avery.
• [2] Peter Agan.
• Daniel A. Betsinger.
• Wm. W. Baldwin.
• [1] Albert D. Bridge.
• Daniel Brockway.
• Albert R. Barlow.
• Ziba Cloyes.
• Alfred J. Cole.
• Peter Cummings.
• Francis H. Carey.
• John H. Dunham.
• Nicholas Ecker.
• [1] John W. Foltz.
• Conrad Foltz.
• [2] Robert Farrington.
• John H. Fancher.
• Francis M. Gault.
• Daniel D. Grovestein.
• Stephen D. Harrington.
• Joseph H. Hart.
• [1] John A. Hart.
• Jacob Hallicus.
• [3] James M. Hainsworth.
• [2] James Johnson.
• [1] Luzerne E. Johnson.
• Henry Kellogg.
• Harvey Lindsley.
• [1] Asa C. Lawrence.
• Luther Loucks.
• Wm. Mallows.
• Myron A. Menzie.
• Henry Mason.
• Patrick Matthews.
• James Matthews.
• Jerry Murphy.
• [1] Durell Moore.
• Jeremiah McLane.
• [2] John J. McMaster.
• [2] William Miller.
• [2] John Miller.
• [2] Michael Miller.
• [2] Chas. A. Near.
• [2] Simon Nestler.
• [2] Hugh O'Brien.
• [1] Francis C. Pratt.
• [2] William Pease.
• [2] John Pfleiger.
• Mason Phelps.
• Chas. O. Ricker.
• Wm. E. Rinn.
• [3] Henry W. Richardson.
• Nicholas J. Snyder.
• Eusebius Sweet.
• Hubbard Suits.
• [2] James L. Travis.
• John Torrey.
• Elmer A. Wise.
• [1] Alfred Wilder.
• [2] Henry Whaling.
• Calvin White.

• DRAFTED RECRUITS.
• Geo. S. Orr.
• Scott D. Whitney.

• SUBSTITUTES FOR DRAFTED MEN.
• James Leonard.
• John Wise.

• ENLISTED AS RECRUITS.
• [1] Abram Thornton.
• Sylvanus D. Alexander.
• Peter Delong.
• Chas. Hoxie.
• Nelson Kimball.
• Henry Nobles.
• Sylvanus S. Ostrander.
• Samuel N. Jacquay.
• [1] Russell Stroup.
• Paul Stowell.
• Wm. H. Schuyler.
• Levi Schuyler.
• Chas. O. Hinman.
• [2] Wm. L. Johnson.
• Wm. H. Kimball.
• Patrick Kinney.
• Alfred J. Leird.
• William Rudd.
• John Terry.
• Daniel Winchell.
• John Brown.
• George Plank.
• Arthur Campbell.
• Rufus C. Baldwin.

[1] Killed in Action.

[2] Wounded.

[3] Died by disease or accident.

COMPANY G.

The date of their captain's commission placed Co. G seventh in rank—beginning with A—and ninth company from the extreme right as the regiment formed on the colors. The company was enrolled and became a part of the 157th regiment of New York Volunteers, enlisted for three years unless sooner discharged—"for three years unless sooner shot," according to Irwin Sayles, who left the company and the service minus a right arm. The regiment was raised in Cortland and Madison Counties, under the call of July 2d, 1862, for 300,000 three years men.

ABRAHAM TUTTLE, the first captain of Co. G, was a farmer living near Clockville. He was about forty years of age, slightly gray, but strong and active. Capt. Tuttle was an old-time California gold-seeker, who took the long route via Cape Horn to the then new Eldorado. In some respects he was well fitted for a soldier, but he had no taste for such a life, as a profession, and resigned after experiencing the discomforts of a winter campaign in Virginia.

MAURICE D. BAILEY, of Wampsville, was first lieutenant of Co. G. He was one of the handsomest men in the regiment—finely made and set-up in good style and in the prime and vigor of life. He was a big-hearted man and popular. At home he was a farmer. After serving with the company for a few months, he was assigned to Co. K, being promoted to a captaincy, and remained with the regiment until the autumn of 1863, when he resigned, at Folly Island, S.C.

HARRISON FRANK, second lieutenant of Co. G, was a speculator in farm produce and lived at Wampsville; he was thirty-two years of age, a rather tall, spare-built man. He came from German stock, and his grandfather, Albert Frank, was a soldier of the Revolution. His maternal grandfather, George Siver, was a soldier of 1812. Andrew Frank married Nancy Siver and Harrison Frank was their son.

So it appears that Harrison was born with a martial spirit in him. Unfortunately his physical powers were too frail for the hardships of camp and field. It would seem that only a strong will power supported the man for weeks at a time. "I will never give up until I am down," was written on every line of his features, while his figure was unsteady and his limbs seemed unfit for carrying his body. But his eye was clear and his voice rang out sharp and authoritative. He possessed a shrill tone of voice, was rapid in speech, his perceptions were clear, his preferences leaning to that which was just and right; was methodical, correct, generous, temperate. Cared little for the glitter of military display and wore on parade the dress coat of a private adorned with shoulder straps. This was not from penuriousness. One day the colonel took him to task for not appearing in a uniform coat.

"Colonel," he replied, "I have a mother and others at home, who need all I can save from my pay. In my baggage I have a new uniform coat. My boys know me in this uniform."

He wore that plain dress coat unmolested. In fact, when he fell at Gettysburg he wore the ordinary blouse of a private soldier, with two bars attached, taken from an old shoulder strap.

When Frank was made captain, the discipline of Co. G was very indifferent, their tactics none of the best. They needed inspiring and the right sort of man took hold of them, who knew there was crude material in his company, of such from which good soldiers were produced; so he applied himself and with immediate results, to make Co. G one of the good companies of the regiment. Frank had been left behind when the regiment went to the front. He was in poor health, but finally reached Washington and lay there in hospital, or under treatment, for weeks, rejoining the boys at Fairfax Court House, Va. He was still weak, but brimful of patriotism, was sanguine of victory for the North and said he expected to march into Richmond. Such sort of grit served him to the last. Gradually, as the winter gave place to balmy spring, his health seemed to improve and with that encouraging condition came his ability to convey to his men the ambition of the soldier; and it was not long before Co. G were looking up handsomely. In April, 1863, President Lincoln reviewed the Army of the Potomac then lying in the vicinity of Falmouth. Co. G were bright under the applications of tripoli polish, blacking and brush-brooming; new uniforms, white gloves, etc. Capt. Frank was proud of his men. As their esprit improved the men grew to liking more and more the man who sought their greatest good.

In this connection it is only just to remember a patriotic act of Mrs. Daniel Crouse, of Canastota, who presented a regulation sword to each of the officers of Co. G. The ceremony occurred in the old Dutch Reformed Church in Canastota. Judge Barlow made the presentation speech, to which the then Lieutenant Frank responded in a modest, but manly style.

A FEW NOTES OF GENERAL INTEREST.

Co. G was recruited in the middle portion of the Town of Lenox, Madison County. It was known in the regiment as the Canastota Company. A patriotic region was the territory within a radius of four miles of that small village. Before 1856 it was counted a reliably Democratic locality, but the anti-slavery agitation soon found it fertile ground for propagating Free-Soil ideas and it rapidly changed to the Republican side, as soon as the issue was fairly made. So, when the war broke out, the missionary work of such men as Gerrit Smith, Samuel J. May, Beriah Green, and others, became apparent, and patriotism burned bright upon its rural altars. It is estimated that at least five hundred men were recruited within the territory already designated. The Town of Lenox paid $136,030 for town bounties, while Madison County paid a total of $1,338,320 for bounties to recruits. Lenox paid for support of families $3,786, distinct from Poor Fund; both for bounties and for relief thus raised by tax, Lenox shows double that of any other town in the county. And those figures do not by any means represent the thousands of dollars voted at the recruiting meetings and subscribed and donated for local bounties and for relief purposes.

Very pleasant to recall are the kind words spoken and written in those trying times by noble-hearted men and women, as the boys went forth to the war.

In August, 1862, a war fund was raised in Madison County. Hon. Gerrit Smith, with his usual generosity, promptly sent in his check for $5,000, and in his note which enclosed the same, he says—"I would that the fund should not be regarded as a mercenary appeal to our volunteers—but as a gift from loving neighbors toward helping them to arrange their affairs that they can leave their homes more freely and pleasantly. These volunteers and their neighbors constitute a partnership sacred and sublime, and never to be broken."

Canastota was very active and like many other towns at the time, doing unceasingly for the men in the field, for local relief and in support of the good cause generally. It is doubtful if any locality in the State, with the same population and a like assessment, can show a more honorable record.

It should be noted that at least fifty per cent. of the men enlisted in 1862 were at the time beardless youths, the greater portion of whom proved enduring soldiers. Those boys did not enlist for sake of obtaining bounties. Enthusiasm was aroused in various ways—by speeches at war-meetings, by martial music and by the newspapers. Everybody talked war, the girls sang war songs, one boy enlisted and his chums followed him. Very little cared those young fellows for bounties. The county of Madison gave $50, and the State $50, bounties. One month's pay in advance $13 and $2 bonus from the general government and $100 at the expiration of the term of service (increased after the war to $200). In the fall of 1864 the town of Lenox gave for bounties to 3-years men $1,100, the county $500 added to that, besides the State and national bounties, and many of those men never were in a battle.

But the trials of war were not entirely with the boys at the front. Dependent parents, wives and children felt the denials keenly; and when news came that a battle had been fought and some of their boys had fallen, the entire community was interested at once and freely sympathized with sorrowing friends. And the firm belief that they were thus cared for strengthened the boys wonderfully.

Of the eighty-seven men originally enrolled in Co. G, one-half of them were between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one years, and no doubt a number of them several years below the minimum age of eighteen, fearing rejectment, assumed to be older.

The fatalities of war among those volunteers are difficult to estimate. Not a few were reported as "missing," who never returned. Many of the sick and wounded lived to see their homes and soon after died.

During its term of service the company lost one captain and six enlisted men killed in action, and one man accidentally shot, while three died of disease. The man Asa Lawrence, missing at Chancellorsville, is included among the killed, and according to all that has been learned, he has never been heard from. One captain, three lieutenants and twenty-four men, were wounded. Of the original enrollment sixteen were discharged on account of sickness or wounds, five were discharged to accept commissions and five were transferred to the Invalid corps. Nine men deserted. Forty-two enlisted men returned with the regiment, others not present were still borne on the rolls.

The company during its term received accessions of two substitutes, two drafted men and twenty-four recruits. Of those, several were slightly wounded and two died of disease.

The casualties in Co. G were not as many as in some of the companies of the regiment. Co. C lost seven killed and more than forty wounded. Co. I lost one officer and eight men killed and their captain and twenty-nine men wounded.

It was understood at the time the authorization was issued that the company was to be assigned to a regiment forming of Cortland and Madison County men, with Philip P. Brown, Jr., of Hamilton, as colonel, and to rendezvous at Hamilton. As rapidly as possible the enlistments were pushed along and about two weeks from the time recruiting began, the company was assured of its quota and took its name as Company G.

At Hamilton, the camp was established on the fair grounds north of the village. For a time a large tent afforded shelter to the men, but its capacity being insufficient, five barrack buildings were erected on the west side of the enclosure, two companies in each building. Co. G shared in the shelter of the most northerly barrack and in the west section of the building, with Co. B, their neighbors, in the eastern portion. Two tiers of bunks ranged along each side of the structure and each bunk was occupied by two men; at the entrance was a room for commissioned officers, most of whom preferred the softer beds in the hotels of the village to the hard straw ticks of the camp.

As the recruits arrived in town they were taken to one of the public halls, where surgeons Hendrick, Beebe and Crawe hammered their chests, listened to their heartbeats and respiration, looked into the eyes of the recruits, finally ordering them to jump over the floor on each leg consecutively. During this ordeal the boys appeared in the uniform of Nature only. Few failed to pass the Board, however, and the successful ones then appeared before the adjutant. If a minor, a written consent was required from the parent or guardian.

Accepted recruits were given orders upon the quartermaster and were taken over to a warehouse near the canal and there received an outfit. The dress coat of dark blue, also dark blue flannel blouse and pants, overcoat, coarse gray shirts, canton flannel drawers, woolen socks, shoes and blanket, not to forget the dark blue fatigue cap so heartily disliked by the wearers. The civilian garb was shed at once and the green soldier was revealed in the cut and fit of his new clothing of war, while his back itched under those shirts as though numerous flies and ants were perambulating there, with an occasioned nipping from a stray spider. But how very, very verdant the boys appeared—so harmless-like in their uniforms, and to add to the ludicrous feature of the occasion very many of them hastened to a gallery to have their appearance preserved for all time.

Knapsacks, haversacks and canteens, tin cups and plates, knives and spoons, came to each in time. No guns were issued in Camp Mitchell; guards about the camp carried guns borrowed from a local armory—no cartridges were issued. A high board fence presented the most discouraging barricade to such of the boys as desired a night outside.

It was amusing to observe the schemes for gaining liberty and to see the boys return to duty after a day or two in the narrow quarters of the guard house. They were not accustomed to such discipline; but they were soon to learn that they had entered upon a new career.

Life in barracks was not tedious. During the day there were several marching drills by squad, platoon and company, and in the evening dress parade, and perhaps, a few attempts at battalion evolutions. Officers in nearly every company were as green as the men. A few short-enlistment men who had seen service and returned, and some who had served in home companies, usually were the drill-masters. Col. Brown had been captain of the Hamilton Grays; Major Carmichael for a time served as captain in the 76th N.Y.; a few other officers had been in the service.

Co. G were drilled by Sergeants Hemstreet and Gates, six months' recruits to the 12th N.Y.V.; also by Frank Cooper afterwards a member of the 78th N.Y. During drill hours "hay-foot, straw-foot!"—"heels together, toes on a line, body erect resting on the toes,"—"forward, march!" and "halt,"—the orders from drill-masters, were heard on all sides; and over in one corner of the pen were the ten or more fifers and drummers taking first lessons in martial music. The scene was enough to make an old soldier weep from laughter, and yet it was not an unusual one wherever raw troops were mustered.

The eating house at Camp Mitchell (so named in honor of David J. Mitchell, a lawyer, at one time a resident of Hamilton) stood at the east end of the enclosure, into which the men were marched by their officers, three times daily to their meals. Good, wholesome fare was provided and in abundance and would have been pronounced grand one year later, could those boys have obtained it on Folly Island, in place of wormy hardtack and tough salt-horse.

The sick at Hamilton were quartered in a small church near the grounds, but Co. G were fortunate as to health while at the rendezvous. Many of the boys enjoyed furloughs during those five or six weeks and their friends visited them and were often permitted to pass the night at the barracks. Amusements of various kinds broke the monotony of barrack life—card playing, wrestling, quoits, various games and much rough horse-play, continually in sight.

While there was so much life astir in Camp Mitchell, it must be acknowledged that a few of the men were down-hearted, particularly those about to leave wives and children; and who could blame them? There were heavy hearts in the homes of those boys. One man when called upon to give a written consent for his sons to enlist, remarked that he felt as if he were signing their death-warrants. For there was a terrible uncertainty for soldiers in those days and the much-quoted silver lining of the heavy clouds overhanging our country, was yet to be discovered in the future efforts of her loyal sons. Cripples and sick men were returning from the front and occasionally somebody's child was brought home for burial. The failure of the Peninsula Campaign, followed by the disaster at Bull Run, were bad records, scarcely effaced by the hard-earned victory at Antietam. And yet, amid such desolation the American people of the North never ceased to give of blood and treasure and the boys kept marching on, the matrons and the maidens smiling and waving farewells with hearts and eyes overflowing, the men and boys cheering, bands playing, fifes shrieking and drums beating. The boys marched away, the hospitals filled, little mounds dotted many a Southern field, the ranks thinned and the scene was repeated again and again until victory came; and then it was time to count the cost. Those who suffered were the ones to cast the reckoning.

On the 19th of September, 1862, the regiment was mustered into the service of the United States. The preliminary of scanning-over the men was performed during a dreary rain storm, by regular army surgeons, the men in line by company. Few were rejected and those for defects of eyes or teeth, or for manifest feebleness. There was Ziba Cloyes of Co. G, a man of sixty years, who had enlisted as being only forty-four, gray hair and a general suspicion of advanced years about him. The surgeon reached him in the line.

"What is your age, sir?"

"Forty-four."

The surgeon smiled. "Open your mouth."

Ziba obeyed, disclosing a full set of teeth such as would have delighted many a dude. Then he brought them together with a sharp snap.

"Put your finger in there," he said, again opening his jaws to their widest limit.

"You will do, sir," said the surgeon as he passed, with a broad grin, to the next man.

After the examination came the formal muster-in by companies, and Co. G were then an arm of the government and on the direct road to active service. Orders thereafter emanated from officers of the general government and the State was duly accredited. Co. G had saved Canastota from a draft.

Sept. 25th, with their new rubber-cloth knapsacks, haversacks and canteens, at an early hour, Co. G were mustered for the road. Teams had been generously offered by the people far and near, gratuitously, and on that morning to the number of more than one hundred blocked the streets of the village, long before daybreak, in waiting to carry the regiment to Canastota.

The loading was quite slow and consumed considerable time, but the day was fine and the roads in excellent condition and the journey to Peterboro was made without further delay. In that pleasant little village the regiment left the wagons and marched into the park, where tables were spread on the green and laden with good fare. While the boys were eating, they were favored with a speech from Hon. Gerrit Smith. He was seated upon a white horse. His deep, eloquent tones were heard above the clatter of dishes. It was his wish that the boys be not withheld from eating. Above his head waved the stars and stripes at half-mast, in memory of Capt. Barnett, killed at Antietam—a Peterboro boy. All that was saddening, all that was eloquent and nobly good in the place, was not so appealing just then, as the feast before them; the boys of Co. G were hungry. After the feast and the address of welcome and God-speed, the wagons were again mounted.

The long train reached Canastota about 5 p.m. They were unloaded south of the town and the men given their first experience with those handsome new knapsacks, as they marched (bent forward like pack-peddlers) through the village streets. It was their first experience, also, in straggling—the head of the regiment led by the Hamilton band, was approaching the Peterboro St. bridge as the rear of the column passed into Center St., strung nearly around the square.

A platform had been built in a field north of the Crouse residence and near the railroad. Prominent citizens of Cortland and Madison were on the platform; Gen. Bruce was speaker. Guards were thrown around the enclosure to keep the crowd outside, but not to exclude the relatives and friends. Caresses and sobbing, tears and forced gaiety marked that occasion. Little ones were there and the father fed himself with one hand as he pressed his child to his breast with the other. Old age came also, and parents trembling with years, tried to be brave as their part in the war, if nothing more. Even the abundance of choice food supplied for the men was hardly relished under the strain of parting; so the women filled the haversacks, poured coffee into the canteens, completing the whole with a hearty kiss and sent the boys on their way. There were times, when the happiest soldier boy was he, who, when going to war, left none at home to weep for him.

A train of emigrant cars received the regiment and at daybreak next morning they reached Albany. A good breakfast was served in a building near the depot. A portion of the regiment was taken over the ferry and the remainder, including Co. G, marched to the executive mansion where Gov. Morgan presented the stand of colors, D. J. Mitchell responding.

The boys will ever remember their ride down the rail along the Hudson. At every station and in homes along the road, in the fields and on the river, wherever men, women or children were seen, their handkerchiefs and hats were waved to cheer the soldier boys. The boys in blue threw kisses to the blushing girls, or upon brown paper or pieces cut from lunch boxes, wrote and cast forth gentle words of appreciation. Really it must have grown monotonous to those people, as soldiers were passing nearly every day; if so, it was such a monotony as they appeared to enjoy immensely. With some of the men of Co. G the situation was too serious for trifling—they were leaving their Marias and Nancys and Kates.

City Hall barracks, New York City—never forget them. The postoffice building now covers that ground. Bunks floored with slats to sleep upon, into which the many occupants had crawled, each time carrying in from the floors a fresh supply of sand to fall into the eyes of the fellows in the lower berths; the rooms ill-ventilated and odorous of many stalwart smells. The food was unattractive and few of Co. G had the hardihood to partake. Just one cheering feature of the situation, was the hope ever constant, that their stay would be brief. They stopped but one night and a day. As evening approached they were marched down to a covered dock and remained there in the dark, unlighted place, awaiting the arrival of a steamer to take them over to Jersey.

Soon as darkness came on the men became very quiet as though the bogie-man was abroad. By and by a clicking, cracking sort of noise came out of the depths of darkness, soon followed by a smacking sound. Co. G were eating cheese—the other companies were eating cheese.

"Commandants of companies will see that their men are kept together," roared the colonel.

The officers could not see very well in the dark. The men broke open no more cheese boxes. They had spied the boxes through the gathering gloom on their first arrival and simply waited patiently for darkness.

John Schultz, a German, and member of Co. G, had sat himself down on the outer timber of the wharf and fell asleep. He had not removed his knapsack. What his canteen contained is not known. He nodded awhile, snored a little and suddenly disappeared. Some one raised the cry that a man had fallen into the slip. A police boat picked old John out and soon he returned, thoroughly wet and considerably sobered.

Near midnight a steamer reached the wharf and took the regiments away to Port Monmouth, the northern terminus of the Delaware and Raritan Bay R. R. Once more the raiding propensities of the boys were exhibited upon a car-load of peaches on a siding, but they were promptly restrained. The men were not thieves; they had somehow reached the conclusion that a change in dress demanded a change in morals. They knew there was some sort of transformation going on within them, as without, and certainly they must act differently than when they were plain civilians. Instead of being peaceful lambs at home, they must be wolves and hunt in packs. But a few months of strict discipline set them aright.

It was Sunday afternoon when the regiment reached Philadelphia, tired and hungry. A lunch had been served on the train early in the day, but that was only a "hand-out." At Philadelphia many thousands of men of passing regiments, were fed at the Cooper's Union refreshment rooms. So Co. G, though only one-tenth of a regiment, were favored with plenty of clean water, soap and towels and then were served with a delicious meal of good substantial food, served on a clean cloth, from earthen dishes, "just like home," said the boys.

Philadelphia always treated the soldiers in the most generous style. A sick or wounded man felt greatly favored to be sent to a Philadelphia hospital.

After the regiment was fed, the march was taken for the Baltimore depot, several miles distant. The walks were crowded with people. Such cheering, waving handkerchiefs, tossing of kisses, helped mightily in the struggle beneath those galling knapsacks. Some of the giddy girls rushed up to the ranks and exchanged handkerchiefs bearing their names; others tossed flowers among the boys, and "good-by," "God bless you," was heard, from the start to the finish.

The cars in waiting were ordinary cattle cars, in which rough board seats were built. This was the first acquaintance the men had with such sort of conveyance. For the officers, a coach was provided, but many of them remained with their men.

In the recent war with Spain, coaches were provided for the men; and for the sick, sleeping cars and dining cars, all of which was perfectly right. Between Washington and any portion of the eastern and Middle states, no soldier, during the War of the Rebellion, should have been obliged to ride in a car built for cattle, particularly after the war had progressed for over one year.

At Baltimore the namby-pamby feature of the excursion ceased, Enfield rifles were dealt out to the companies, together with accoutrements, the cartridge box, belts, etc. That seemed like war. No cartridges were issued; those came on Arlington Hights.

The city of Baltimore had shown, to some extent, an inclination in favor of secession. Many of its young men had gone to the Confederate lines and a strong feeling against federal interference with secession was very noticeable among a certain class of the citizens. Troops were stationed there to preserve order.

The regiment was marched into an open street with guards stationed to prevent the men from wandering about the city. Co. G remained strictly passive within bounds and found no opportunity for doing otherwise. They were exemplary fellows when under guard.

An unusual place for a dining hall was that at Baltimore—on an upper floor near the depot. Very good food was supplied, particularly the coffee.

Co. G were very fond of coffee; although at that early day it had not become so necessary to those heroes in embryo as it was a few years later. The experience of soldiers generally in that war, favored the use of coffee. It was food as well as drink. When a fellow was nearly fagged, on a severe march, the mention of coffee appeared to brace him, and a hand would slip into the haversack for a pinch, only to tide him along. A spoonful of coffee in a canteen of water lifted one comfortably over many a weary mile. To abolish the whisky ration was wise. To have taken away the coffee would have endangered the cause.

Coffee and the letters from home were two important auxiliary supports of the nation. Those letters were a power. Nothing went just right when the mail was delayed. Anticipation is a great word and the soldiers worked it for all it is worth; on all the various grades of the psychic thermometer from zero to fever heat. Ah, when fever heat was struck, the indication was reliably certain that she had "gone back on" her soldier lad.

Clean cattle cars were supplied at Philadelphia, but the sort in which Co. G traveled from Baltimore to Washington were fragrant of stable odors. The distance was little over forty miles, yet the entire night was consumed. That scheme of traveling nights and loafing around half dead during the daytime, was never explained. Some of the men had a suspicion that Col. Brown was fearful that he might lose some of his men if he changed cars in the night time, and so corralled them the same as other stock. However that might have been, in his regiment the most remarkable desertions were among the officers.

Co. G did not enlist to become deserters and the few of them who did desert were scarcely missed; and a halo of glory which hung over the heroic Co. G at the close of the war obscured, if it did not eliminate, all weak points. Orators and newspapers accorded them glory, the popular cry glorified them. Why not place the laurel crown right here?

September 30th was a beautiful day, but warm in Washington. Co. G jumped down from their cattle cars and were marched to cattle barracks near the capitol. There was plenty of space for camping, but no tents had been issued to them. Those barracks terraced up the hill, resembled barns, rough boarded and whitewashed. The lawmakers over in the huge marble building nearby, reclined upon soft cushions. The sons of their constituents, who had come down to settle a serious difference stirred up in that building, were marched into foul-smelling barracks because they were soldiers. It was too bad to treat American troops that way.

At those barracks the feeding place for soldiers at that time was abominable in filth and mussiness. Coffee was served in what the boys named swill-pails, with a coating of grease outside and inside. The cooks and waiters bore hands and faces that lacked for soap and water. Many a bold soldier boy, after a peep into the feeding room, retired to a convenient refreshment saloon and bought his meals. As for Co. G, they said little but thought much, resolving that a revelation should appear as the years moved along, and even thus it is recorded, long after those slip-shod cooks have ceased to slop, and longer since the boys have any use for them. And now the vindictiveness of Co. G is spent.

Unfortunately, before Co. G could be taken out of Washington some of its members had filled themselves with poor liquor. The same fellows had given trouble while en route from the North, and on various occasions suspicious looking bottles were taken from them by the officers and thrown from the train. More shame for Co. G, who were not fighting under the banner of King Alcohol.

In the middle of the day column was formed and the boys marched out on Pennsylvania Avenue. Numbers of small boys flanked the line bargaining for the task of carrying knapsacks—carts were there for the same purpose and a brisk bargaining ensued. It was indeed a comfortable way to carry a knapsack—transferred to a cart or to the back of a negro boy. Thus disburdened, marching was easier. The air was hot, the roads very dusty. Across Long Bridge they went, past Forts Runion and Albany, to an old camp known as Camp Chase, nearly one mile in rear of the Lee mansion, on Arlington Hights. Old A tents were there, pitched and ready for occupation, true, not as clean as desirable, but a shelter which a little labor of dusting and arranging greatly improved.

Routine is the term expressive of life in camp. The soldier of experience is a stranger to monotony—he is part of a machine. All the comforts and amusements he can get outside of the routine life, are luxuries to be dissipated at a word of command.

Co. G dropped into the routine of camp life with good grace. They threw down brush upon the sacred soil of Virginia, they filled their ticks with dried grass, then spreading their blankets, composed themselves for the sleep of innocence, their knapsacks as pillows affording support to the shoulders galled in carrying them. Oh, those knapsacks. Sleep on, brave; bulge out knapsack, you are to be reconciled shortly.

Suddenly their dreams were broken—the day had dawned. From near and far came the bugle blast and the rattle of fife and drum. Hungry mules took up the refrain in varying keys. The boys of G soon heard the voice of Orderly Moore, "Co. G, fall in for roll-call!"

Drilling with the guns was for the first time attempted at Camp Chase and sergeants with tactics in hand, were drilling squads of men in all directions. A few lessons were given in the manual of arms by an officer of the regular army. As for Co. G, they forged ahead slowly, gradually cultivating a liking for a gun and accoutrements. They were drilled in squads, company and battalion evolutions, and rushed in this and that direction for health's sake.

The innocent verdancy of the sons of Lenox was alike typical of all the companies. Officers made clumsy work with tactics and the colonel worked out his battalion evolutions quite gingerly. One day the regiment was marched nearly a half mile with arms at a shoulder, whereas they should have moved en route with arms at right shoulder-shift—a much more comfortable position.

The captain of Co. G at this time, was an emphatic, sharp spoken man, and sometimes his orders came red-hot and snapping. In one of the other companies the captain addressed his men as gentlemen,—"Gentlemen, attention to roll-call!" or, "Gentlemen, right dress, if you please!" Captain Beck, good man, had fitted himself, originally, for hotel keeping. Capt. Tuttle was a farmer. Beck's ways were very pleasant, but Tuttle's language and style were preferable even if he did embellish his orders occasionally, and surely he felt often provoked. For some men are always lagging behind, others never learn to handle a gun properly, and occasionally a man is found who never keeps step.

There were a few officers in the regiment who really used swear-words. Co. G was composed of a sterling set of mortals who knew very well that swearing was barred by Army Regulations, and Co. G knew better than to swear at an officer; yet, to swallow such bad treatment without mental comment, equally pungent, would have been unlike some of those sorely tried warriors.

But all this time Co. G men were bracing themselves for all emergencies. Physically, they were pretty hearty. They were learning to wash their clothing and sew on buttons and do a little patching, but they, as a rule were not supplied with Scriptural reading. So it came to pass that Gerrit Smith sent down bushels of small testaments to be distributed throughout the regiment as an inducement to the men to read the Scriptures. Into those beautiful knapsacks went Co. G's testaments. Alas, and alack, they were too generally allowed to remain there. A number of the boys could not read if they would, and more did not read, as they should. No evidence is at hand to prove that a man of Co. G ever caught a bullet in the testament carried in his pocket; and as they scorned to turn their backs to an enemy those testaments escaped a glorious perforation.

While on this subject a record should be made of the good people at home who were continually writing loving letters into which was lavishly insinuated a peculiar style of sermonizing, which though kindly intended and respectfully accepted, really did not accomplish much. They declared that the armies of the North were fighting God's battles; that the Lord would reward them. Over the rebel lines just such ideas were being instilled into the minds of Southrons. But Co. G, so wise were they, as not to charge the Heavenly Father of All with any denials that came to them. If they reasoned at all they understood, that, both North and South, it was the negro up the sleeve, or in the fence, that was causing all their misery. Indeed Co. G were more fighters than philosophers.

The donations of Hon. Gerrit Smith did not cease after sending the testaments. He also gave $500 to be used for the purpose of supplying the men of the regiment with stationery; a very thoughtful gift.

While at Camp Chase the troops were reviewed by Gen. Casey, when Co. G passed in review very satisfactory, to themselves; if the boys were not praised by others at this period in their history they could not very well understand the reason. They were not so green looking now, as they were getting sunburned and all of the same shade. The water of Virginia was not agreeing with all of them, but they were quite lively. Army rations, particularly the bean and hominy, were gradually accepted as the proper food for warriors, and the company had some hearty feeders.

The locality known to Co. G as Camp Chase No. 1, was occupied about one week, when sanitary rules demanded a removal to fresh ground. Accordingly a site was selected in a field of scrub oak, which was cleared and the stumps grubbed from company streets. Such duty was called fatigue duty. Police duty, was the everyday work of policing the streets—cleaning up the camp. This duty was usually allotted to offenders, as a mild punishment, with the occasional addition of a chain fastened to a fellow's ankle to which was attached a small cannon ball. It must be recorded that Co. G had a representative in the police gang at Camp Chase No. 2, who was wearing the ball and chain because of repeated disobedience. He was the first and the last of that noble band to thus disgrace the company.

At the new camp, excellent water was found. Fresh sweet soil made wholesome tent floors. As the camp was quite near the Lee mansion frequent strolls were enjoyed through the grounds and through the building. And for the first time, while encamped there, cartridges were issued and each man when equipped was carrying forty rounds. Soon after that event came a sensation that tried the mettle of Co. G.

At two o'clock one dark morning the long-roll was sounded throughout the entire line. Starting a mile away, it came nearer and nearer, from camp to camp, until the band of the 157th struck up their drums. Buglers and drums, shouting officers and orderly sergeants startled the heroes into their respective company streets. Nor were the mules silent, mistaking the racket for an early reveille and call to feed. When the battalion was formed, the object of the alarm was met, and orders came promptly, to return the men to their quarters. That sort of drill occurred twice while the boys remained on Arlington Hights. The first time was frightful and some of the men were terribly shocked. But the second time they came forth promptly and becomingly. One year later the long-roll found them ready for anything, every pulse beating regularly and they were as calm as if on parade; for by that time they had become prime food for bullets.

Finally orders arrived to prepare for a march. The quartermaster had received his wagons and teams and among other accessions a sutler had located his tent near the camp, and was working up quite a trade in ginger snaps and green gingerbread.

Reveille sounded at 3 o'clock on the morning of October 12th. Tents were struck and with one day's cooked rations Co. G fell into line. About 7 o'clock the regiment started for Fairfax Court House, a distance of fifteen miles. Four hours consumed in striking tents, eating and getting away, was pretty easy soldiering; but they were learning a little all the time, those boys.

The road from Long Bridge to Fairfax had always been a long one for new regiments, and to Co. G, particularly so, on this march. Fifteen miles is not a great march for veterans. But heavy knapsacks, cartridge-boxes, haversacks and canteens and the rifle and bayonet, made quite a load for new troops. Co. G started forth boldly in the misty rain and made their first acquaintance with the slippery Virginia mud. All went well for a few miles and then the column began to lengthen. Apparently the faster the colonel led the head, the slower moved the foot of the regiment, and when he reached Fairfax with the colors and a handful of men, the rear was but half way there. Brave Co. G, not to be out-straggled by the others, spread over as much of the country as possible, and when they drew near the town, Gen. Sigel was at the picket line to receive them. So interesting an occasion and one so novel was rare even in those days. The captain of Co. G, was at the camping place to receive them as they dragged in and reported themselves. And he spoke to them, cheerily, "Hurry now, and get the blank-blinkety-blank tents up. You have done blankety-blink well to-day, boys." Co. G knew all that and accepted the compliment. Stoical chaps, with aching shoulders.

One, and perhaps the greatest impediment to rapid marching that day, were the heavy knapsacks, although the cartridges, rations and canteens of water, weighed upon the shoulders of the boys with no kind results. But the knapsacks, crammed with necessary clothing, books, toilet articles, whetstones, hatchets, and much other stuff, three-fourths of which was dispensable, bore heaviest of all. All new regiments were similarly afflicted. Experience, however, taught in the army as at home.

Col. Brown, it is meet to record, was thoroughly disgusted with this first march of his men on a complete war-footing. Yet he was blameable. He should have known that forty pounds of regulation outfit was a full load, and that thirty pounds of additional weight in albums, revolvers and gim-cracks handicapped his heroes on the road. Even without sacrificing those stores of novelties, if the colonel had moved slowly, halting frequently and resting his men, he would have saved himself great humiliation. But he was getting schooled, learning something that he had overlooked or forgotten, at every public exhibition of his knowledge. He had called the men at Hamilton "my soldiers." One bright lad remarked "If he is our father, who in Hamilton is our mother?" He was indeed a fatherly sort of a man in some ways. As to their regimental mother, she never addressed her children, but was ever ready to enfold them within her bosom, and before three years had gone by, they became well acquainted with Mother Earth.

For some reason it was always harder on the boys marching under Col. Brown. Quite a contrast were Lt. Col. Arrowsmith and Major Carmichael, who were no less prompt than Brown; but they appeared to understand the men better. They realized that the short legged men were on the extreme left of the companies. That the tall men led the companies, and consequently unless all took the same length of step the line soon began to draw out; as on the historic march just mentioned.

The exercises at Fairfax resembled the ordinary routine, varied with exercises in firing blank cartridges. Men were here detailed for the first time for duty on outposts. A picket was stationed not far from the camp, who were given strict orders. With loaded pieces they stood post, rain or fair, in continual expectation of the arrival of the entire rebel army. No rebels appeared. Gen. Lee held no special grudge against Co. G.

While no rebels attacked Co. G at Fairfax there was another sort of gray-back came into camp. The colder weather of autumn and the dismal rains came on, adding greatly to the usual discomforts of tent life. Men began to sicken, others were homesick and consequently careless of their persons. Of course Co. G boys were mortified when the first specimens appeared and such a boiling of underwear as followed, checked the increase of the pest. The pediculus is in question.

Co. G were now being represented in the hospital. Sergeant Jarvis kept around as long as he was able, showing wonderful nerve, but finally was obliged to leave the company and never returned; being discharged, he was taken home by friends where with good nursing he recovered. In November, J. M. Ainsworth died in hospital at Washington, and Alfred Wilder died in hospital at Fairfax. Orderly Sergeant Moore was taken sick and left the company permanently.

So much sickness in the regiment suggested the need of better quarters and camp was changed. The men were ordered to build fire places and chimneys. An old building was sacrificed to supply bricks as well as lumber to use for flooring.

Fairfax was noted for many incidents worthy of note. Singular it was that so many of the boys cut their hands when procuring wood. In a few instances the forefinger of the right hand suffered. The surgeons became suspicious, after a while, for those accidents in most cases, appeared to be of an intentional character. The mania was not popular, the victims were not discharged. But ever after, such men were spoken of as those who were wounded at Fairfax. Co. G frowned upon such tricks so effectually that only one or two of its members caught the mania.

While at this camp the regiment was assigned to the 11th Corps under Gen. Franz Sigel, in the first brigade of the third division. Gen. Carl Schurz commanded the division and Gen. Alex. Schimmelpfennig, the brigade.

The 11th Corps was reviewed by Secretary Chase, at Fairfax, when Co. G marched proudly forth with expanded chests and flashing eyes to the brazen notes of "Hail to the Chief;" every one of them being a chief on his own mountain, he appeared to receive the music as a personal compliment; but after hearing it a few hundred times, later on, they leaned more fondly to "The Girl I Left Behind Me."

The 11th Army Corps was termed a German corps while in truth at least three-fifths of them were born in this country, and Poles, Hungarians, Scandinavians and Italians were to be found in the eleven so-called German regiments. Sigel had been praised for his good work at the Second Bull Run fight, and unfortunately being a German officer prejudice was aroused against him, and of course the corps commanded by him were considered "Dutch." It was a bad day for the North when Sigel was removed from that corps of willing fighters.

In Schimmelpfennig's brigade were the 74th Penna., 61st Ohio, 68th N.Y., 157th N.Y., and 82nd Ill., regiments, the last two new regiments. Sigel, Schurz, "Schimmel" and Col. Hecker of the 82d Ill. had all seen service in Germany and Hecker was one of the leading revolutionists there in 1848, in fact Hecker, Sigel and Schurz fled for refuge to America. Especially did Co. G feel honored to be placed in the division led by Carl Schurz, the patriot, statesman, gentleman and soldier. And so the brave Co. G were to go "marching on" with the "Dutch," but unfortunately never to fight "mit Sigel." They shared in the dangers of the 11th Corps. They shared in the severely unjust criticism the corps received.

The absence of ready means for trading purposes was beginning to be felt in Co. G. Now and then a fellow could produce a little money and was content. As the boys saw their money disappear into the sutler's till, they were said to then have bought pocket-books—as their cash was disappearing they began to save, like true soldiers; and when the last dollar was gone they regretted their foolishness, like all the world. They were at school and in the freshman year; shortly, the sutlers will have a story to tell.

Money of the war was greenbacks and postal currency in fractional parts of a dollar. As soon as the war began the speculators hoarded the silver and the people were soon obliged to use the bills of state banks, and shin-plasters issued for fifty, twenty-five and ten cents, by merchants and others, redeemable at their places of business. Ordinary postage stamps were circulating in small amounts enclosed in diminutive envelopes and passed around as change. So when Co. G went to the front such of the boys as had bills on state banks, found them useless. And the tormenting postage stamps were often found stuck together from the perspiration of one's body. Although mustered for pay Co. G had not yet seen a paymaster. So they drew on funds at home, if they had any, and in traffic received the beautiful new 50s, 25s, 10s, 5s and 3-cent paper currency; an event worthy of remark. The greenback came out late in 1861, and McClellan's men and others received them who previously were paid in gold.

A sad accident occurred while the company was at Fairfax. It was on a pleasant day, October 30th. The boys were at platoon drill when they were interrupted and returned to camp. One of their comrades had been shot. His name was Henry Richardson, who being detailed on fatigue duty was at work arranging for a hospital tent. A detail from the 26th Wisconsin regiment returning from picket duty, had discharged their guns into an embankment a half mile distant and in line with the 157th. A stray ball went over the bank and struck Richardson on the side of the head, killing him instantly. There was not a great deal of mirth in camp the evening following the accident. And when the bright moon came up, a line was quietly formed and followed the ambulance down the road to the picket line, the fifes and muffled drums playing the march for the dead. Members of the regiment had subscribed money and the body was taken to Washington by Sergeants Hemstreet and Gates, there embalmed and forwarded to Canastota. And for a long time, the deep shadows of the oaks, the white cover of the ambulance and slow stepping body of men who marched to the solemn music, was an impressive scene and one seldom commented upon. In the language of one of the boys, "It was bad enough to be shot at by rebels," without additional risks from the rifles of their friends.

In the latter part of October orders came to pack up the superfluous clothing, which included of course albums, quarto dictionaries, library books of all kinds, hardware, etc., already toted so far in the knapsacks. The object was not so much to lighten the loads of the men as to increase their speed. Gen. Sigel had not forgotten that memorable march from Arlington in which Co. G succeeded so well in lagging behind. And so it happened that a cart load of boxes filled with the surplus wardrobes and toilet articles and bric-a-brac of Co. G, were stored somewhere in Fairfax and to be left there as prey for looters.

The first day of November marching orders came and the boys took the road for Centerville. At one of the first resting places the knapsacks began to drop and in their place the popular blanket roll was hung over the right shoulder, thus supplying a nice pad for the rifle to rest upon while marching. The same scene of disburdening occurred at every halt, until the men were reduced to easy marching order, and at every halt the ground was littered with the goods. Germans following who were better fitted for the task, loaded themselves like pack horses; and what the Germans did not take was culled over by the teamsters. What cared Co. G, their shoulders were now relieved.

The first day's march was through Centerville and down the hill to Bull Run, encamping near Stone Bridge, a locality noted for the scene of slaughter there but a few months previous. Coffee was boiled in turbid water from the stream and the boys bivouaced under the stars. The boys of Co. G thought hard and rapid that night as they gathered like frogs along the margin of the stream and bathed the pouching blisters which adorned their heels. No matter what they thought of other matters, the men of G were never known to lack in respect for one of those old army blisters; and the more the blisters smarted, the more they were respected.

Co. G were tired and even the snorers of the company were quiet. There was Jerome Forbes a capital snorer; he was soon promoted to a lieutenancy and probably then gave up snoring. And Hub Suits who bunked with Jerome, was an excellent second. But they all slept quietly that night for those fields were reminders of serious conflict. Around them lay a good-sized army, victims of two great battles: lay as fallen soldiers are buried on the battlefield, in shallow trenches or above the ground with a thin cover of earth over them; their fleshless skeletons protruding to mock the so-called glory in war. And only the stars looked down compassionately. Those sleeping forms of the living also were offerings, and of the 157th, every ninth man was to be lain on the nation's altar before the close of the war. Still they slept on, perhaps dreaming of home, of mothers, wives, babes. What a miserable trade is war?

It was on that terrible field the chaplain of the regiment received the acceptance of his resignation. He was a good man,—had served the gospel but little to the men. He declared later, that he was discouraged. He never did any harm, if he did no good. Co. G were very sorry to lose the chaplain, for they felt the dignity of the regiment was well guarded so long as a man of peace was with them. No, no, Co. G had done nothing to discourage the chaplain; possibly he was shocked by those long-rolls on Arlington Hights.—But the bugle sounds the reveille.

"It appears to me people are in the habit of rising early in this part of the country," remarked Doc White, as he gazed upward into the constellated arch.

"Yes," spoke John Miller, "and I must carry that grist to mill to-day."

"You'll carry it on your back, Miller," called out another, in memory of a knapsack.

"Co. G, fall in for roll-call!" sang out the orderly sergeant.

The line of march this day lay toward Thoroughfare Gap. Not far from Hay Market the column halted and were drawn up in double-column on the center.

"Attention-n-n!" yelled Col. Brown. "My men, the enemy are supposed to be near. They have been seen to-day. You may shortly be called into action and I expect every man to do his duty. Remember, the eyes of Cortland and Madison counties are upon you. Attention! By division, right wheel! For-w-a-r-d, March!"

Off into a field and skirting the woods, moved Co. G. Another wheel and to the left, and the advance began. They moved briskly and steadily along, until one of those narrow wash-outs peculiar to Virginia soil, yawned fully four feet in width before them. Over went the divisions like sheep, the major in the lead, for alas, the horse ridden by the colonel—the old cow—refused to take the ditch. Fortunately the eyes of Madison county were not present at the circus which followed. Thump! thump! went the colonel's heels against the ribs of the cow; then he whirled and dashed at the obstacle again. All the time Co. G were on a still hunt for wandering rebels. And when the colonel, by making a wide detour, succeeded in overtaking his men, they were well across the field and had not bagged a single johnny. The company generously shared their disappointment with Colonel Brown, just the same as though he had kept his place with the column. The colonel had been foiled—and that, his first Virginia ditch. In fact that was not a day really rich with glory for Madison and Cortland counties.

As the field manoeuvre was over, the column again took the road—it was doubtful if there was a force of rebels within twenty-five miles.

Toward night Thoroughfare Gap (an opening through the Bull Run mountains) was reached and Co. G bivouaced in the oak woods with an abundance of leaves for bedding. Two nights they slept on the ground without tents—no great hardship in good weather; but the second day at the Gap the shelter or dog-tents arrived; the day following they were pitched, after a fashion.

While at the Gap the entire division of Gen. Schurz appeared to have run wild. Every house, the fields, all property was exposed to the looting soldiers, who were well supplied with government rations but craved chickens, fresh mutton and tender beef, honey, home-made bread, jams, and jellies. The camp of the 157th resembled a market. Cattle and sheep were lowing and bleating in pens, fowls were plenty and dressed carcasses, hams and many other articles and things hung from the trees. Guns were popping and stray bullets flying, for the brave boys had discovered the presence of the saw-back hog, a species common in the South, usually running at large. They had first met him on the road while marching in, when the big saw-back with long snout to the ground claimed the middle of the road, and got it too; going down from the head of the regiment to the rear, the ranks opening graciously to allow him to pass. And he minded little the bayonet jabs pushed at him as he sped as only his family can run. But many a saw-back fell that day, of all ages, from roaster to patriarch.

After some hours of such ill-becoming looting, strict orders were issued and guards thrown out about the camps. A few hours later the doctors were busy with sick men who had gorged on honey and fresh pork.

Thoroughfare Gap witnessed several contests during the war and many times the cavalry, either of yanks or johnnies, saw each other's heels flying through that winding defile with warm spurs. And the place was remembered ever after in the annals of Co. G, as the camp where much property was stolen and also the locality where Dan Brockway left his little leather-covered trunk.

Dan was formerly a peddler of various kinds of flavoring extracts, ink and bluing. For some funny reason he carried a stock of his essences with him into the army; a strange freak indeed. He had lugged that package thus far, patiently bearing the compliments of officers and men as they urged him to keep in place. He was one of the smallest men in the company, but it took one of the largest and the strongest to land him on his back at square-hold. Brock was always good natured and always busy.

The day came for another moving and the captain said in a firm, but pleasant, way,

"Brock, you must get rid of that blinkity-blim box of yours. Do you understand me?"

Brock understood, as when the captain spoke that way he was in earnest. So the box of beautiful extracts, cinnamon, peppermint and the rest, was left at a house near the gap and is there still, perhaps, for Co. G never saw it again.

The 11th Corps had been thrown forward to guard the supplies for McClellan's army then on the march from Harper's Ferry. Large quantities of stores came up and were in waiting for the advancing columns, and as soon as the Army of the Potomac had gone into camp near Warrenton the 11th Corps was moved to New Baltimore.

Orders for marching came Nov. 7th, a chilly, cloudy day. Before the march of twelve or fourteen miles was half concluded, snow began to fall and Co. G pitched their tents at New Baltimore, in a brisk snow storm, and in a cornfield. Corn stalks were plenty and served for tent-flooring. It was a blundering piece of work, ordering men to camp in a muddy cornfield while a few rods distant was a desirable rise of ground, to which they were removed within a few days. The 157th had many experiences among corn stubble, until the boys came to counting upon such a bivouac as sure whenever one was found conveniently at hand. Blame was unjustly attached to Col. Brown for those cornfield camps.

The continued bad weather caused much sickness among new troops, and consequently the army was weakened. McClellan advised going into winter quarters, but the Northern press howled, "On to Richmond!" and the administration removed McClellan and placed Burnside at the head of the army.

The troops were drawn up to bid farewell to Little Mac. His progress could have been traced by the cheering of the men. McClellan was popular with the rank and file of the Potomac army. Had his advice been taken and a vigorous campaign opened in the spring, thousands of brave men might not have fallen in vain, with other thousands of sick besides, not to mention the heavy losses in stores and equipments. Those campaigns conducted to gratify a clamoring press were not popular after Gen. Grant took command of the Army of the Potomac. As soon as Gen. Burnside was well established in his new command he began his move on Fredericksburg.

At New Baltimore the regiment was for the first time joined by the lieutenant colonel, Geo. Arrowsmith. Col. Arrowsmith had seen considerable service and when the regiment was organized his name was pressed for the colonelcy over his former tutor, Brown. The appearance of the lieutenant colonel was pleasing. He was a tall, strongly-built man, his face was pleasant and his voice was clear and strong. The men enjoyed being under his command, because there was an air of confidence about him not possessed by the inexperienced officers. There was no hesitation when Arrowsmith gave an order, for he gave none new to the men without first explaining and making it clear. At Fairfax, Brown had captains and even sergeants attempt to evolute the battalion, while he kept one hand on the machine that it might not blow up. But Arrowsmith had none of that nonsense, and for some reason it ceased soon after he came.

November, 1862, was very trying for the people at home as well as the soldiers in the field. The election of Horatio Seymour as governor, encouraged the Peace Party. At the front was Burnside surrounded by officers and men antagonistic to him, who growled at his appointment and criticized his every move. The malcontents among the corps commanders favored McClellan and if not he, they wished to have some one beside Burnside, who was a good man, and all he lacked to make his plan successful, was hearty co-operation among his subordinates.

As already stated the men were growing more sickly. The hospitals were filled and many were ailing in their tents. Co. G, amid all the misery and the growling and incipient disloyalty, remained steadfastly loyal. Its heroes marched up and took their quinine, or they marched away to picket-duty. But they were being thinned out and details came heavier and heavier upon those who remained well. The principal malady was dysentery, which weakened the men quickly, but being of a mild type in most cases, there were few fatalities.

The return was begun Nov. 17th over soft roads, slippery with mud, made worse by the rain which began to fall about noontime. After dark the men bivouaced in a field of corn-stubble, rain falling and small rivulets running down between the rows. The boys were served with boiled potatoes, warm from the kettle and graced and blessed by Billy Mallows, the cook, who growled and snarled while he cooked, until the very potatoes rolled their eyes at him. Thankful was he that night that he was soon to leave the emblazoned service, as he soon after did to give place to one of the best company cooks in the regiment.

At this cornfield camp near Gainesville, a whisky ration was served to the men. They had fixed their bayonets and driven them into the ground, strapping a third gun across for a ridgepole on which to lay their tents; then spreading a rubber blanket on the wet ground they made their beds for the night; a bad arrangement in case of alarm and against orders, but they could do no better in the dark.

So the heroes turned-in, their heads on one corn row and their feet over another, their bodies sort of zigzagged-like, in the form of a letter Z. There they lay dreaming while the rills of muddy water coursed under them, poor Co. G, until aroused by reveille. Then they turned out, stiff and uncomfortable, but otherwise not in bad shape. Col. Brown was very temperate, and whiskey was never issued unless the occasion was urgent, and this was one of those occasions and the first one—no doubt it was timely.

Marching was difficult on the route to Centerville, Nov. 18th, and led over another portion of the Bull Run battlefield some distance from Stone Bridge. For a long way the ground was littered with relics, and then Brock proceeded to load himself down with bullets, grape shot, etc., in spite of the remonstrances of the officers, carrying into camp twenty or thirty pounds of lead and iron. He was thinking of the money in such pickings. For a long time after, he amused himself whittling the bullets into axes, hatchets or hammers duly handled in red cedar, which he sold when possible as souvenirs to be sent home by mail. For Brock had a family and in any way he could earn a penny, was sure to make the most of his opportunities, sending the money home. And he was temperate as he was saving.

Camp at Centerville was made on the bleakest part of the hill near the little hamlet; not far from where, the preceding winter, the enemy had built large-sized barracks. Those rebel huts were torn down and the wood used to construct shanties for the newcomers. Winter set in and the cold winds whistled across the bleak hill most wickedly.

Reasons for army movements sometimes are based on pure assumption. And such reasoning may have worked out a plan by which the 11th Corps must remain at Centerville; but a hill should have been selected broad enough to receive the entire corps, headquarters and all. Such disposition of the troops might have been made as to place them nearer wood and water, and so reduce exposures and lessen such large attendance at surgeons' call. While commissioned officers must not find fault, they must obey offensive orders emanating from superiors.

Occasionally there is a little discretionary power allowed an officer. When the vacant huts were apportioned to the men one came to the share of Co. G. Then it happened that the men of another regiment undertook to appropriate Co. G's share. Down came Capt. Tuttle loaded for large game, and the Captain of the strange men was there also. The interview between the captains was short and very emphatic, resulting in G securing the timber. On another similar occasion on the Gettysburg march, when the regiment went into bivouac they were told to appropriate all the rails in their immediate front. Shortly appeared a mob from another regiment who were bent upon carrying away those particular rails. The intruders were scarcely at work when Col. Arrowsmith rode among them revolver in hand. The 157th boys gathered their rails at leisure. The boys felt that it was good to have their officers interested in the comfort of the men.

There were a few of the companies in the regiment very much neglected that first winter out. The men were good material and in time became as good soldiers as any in the command. The first lieutenant of one of those companies insisted that his captain was dead and should be so informed. But the captain did not believe it, and proved the contrary, when he showed enough life in him to resign and go home.

Near the camp at Centerville resided a shoe-maker, Pettit, by name, and his wife and three grown daughters. A houseguard of one man from Co. G was stationed there to protect the premises from looters. The family treated the guard kindly and also admitted a number of sick boys who rapidly regained their health as soon as removed from the exposures of camp.

There were but one or two attempts at drilling while at Centerville and then under advice of the doctors as for physical exercise. One day the troops were marched to Chantilly and exercised in a mock battle.

Just as soon as Burnside was well set down in front of Fredericksburg he wanted the 11th Corps and of course, Co. G. Then came a tedious march.

December 10th, after a tramp through snow and mud a distance of five miles, the troops bivouaced at Poorhouse Station. The night was cold. A canteen of water placed under one man's head was found frozen nearly solid in the morning.

Next day's march was eight or ten miles across Wolf Run Shoals Co. G going into bivouac in a dense pine thicket on the hights beyond. No tents were raised, some pine boughs were thrown upon the frozen ground and with feet to a cozy fire the boys slept the sleep of the weary.

The marching on the 12th was very bad. The weather had moderated and the bottom fell out of the roads. That mud of Virginia is peculiarly tenacious and quite frequently a fellow's shoe was pulled from his foot. Before Dumfries was reached misty rain was falling, which soon rendered the roads in some places impassable for heavy wagons or artillery. So it was necessary to call a halt until the wagon train was brought in, and men were detailed to pull with the mules whenever necessary.

Two nights at Dumfries rested Co. G and the boys started onward to the aid of Burnside's men, whose cannon were distinctly heard fifteen or twenty miles away. The corps reached Falmouth the day following the departure from Dumfries, or Dec. 15th.

The 11th Corps was promptly prepared to be ready for crossing the Rappahannock next morning. Guns were cleaned and arms and ammunition inspected and the loyal G expected to be ordered into action. Fortunately for them and for humanity generally Burnside decided that enough brave men had been sacrificed. There was a report that Sigel had passed condemnation upon the hopeless plan of that battle. Certainly history has done so time and again. The ifs and other remote contingencies did not warrant such a terrible sacrifice. The certainty of failure was apparent after the first day's fighting. The only hope was in flanking Lee, which failed.

To hold their own was too easy for the rebels. An artillery sergeant told the writer, that the section to which he belonged bore directly upon the flank of the union troops, as they charged Marye's Hights, and he pitied the brave fellows who again and again charged forward only to be swept away.

"Sir, I was sickened at the sight," said the rebel sergeant, "I dreaded to see them moving up without the slightest chance of success. The ground in range of our guns was covered with slaughtered men."

It was just as well for Co. G that the needs of the nation did not call them to charge those deadly hights. They were after glory but preferred it not quite so hot, and even had they won a fair installment of glory it would have been denied them. Seldom is that battle mentioned now. Great stories are told of Pickett's charge at Gettysburg, however, almost as famous and as hopeless as that of the six hundred at Balaklava—all brave men but needlessly slaughtered. Why should not Burnside's men at Fredericksburg be remembered with equal pride?

Men may decorate themselves with all the glitter of rank and strut with dignity through street and camp, and yet fail to prove themselves worthy of a command in time of great need. But the subordinate and the private soldier has but one way of showing his importance—strict obedience to orders from those above him, no matter whether the officer be a man or a manikin.

Co. G enlisted to do, or to die trying. They read newspapers and knew that Gen. Patterson failed to support McDowell at Bull Run; and the sacrifice of Col. Baker at Ball's Bluff by the neglect of Gen. Stone; the neglect of Sumner to support Heintzelman at Williamsburg; and that Fitz John Porter failed to succor Pope at the second battle of Bull Run. Co. G understood a number of things, and they gazed upon big general officers with awe. They had narrowly escaped the slaughter, but shared in the humiliation of the hour; feeling more comfortable, however, than did Gen. Burnside, who knew that the blunders were not all his own. Co. G were ready to support Burnside, to a man.

On the 17th of December the 11th Corps turned back from the Rappahannock and camped near Stafford Court House, traveling in a brisk snow storm over very soft roads. On the 18th they moved to a fine piece of timber some distance from Stafford and proceeded to build a permanent camp. Other troops occupied the ground before Co. G came, and had begun the work of laying up log huts.

In a few days the camp was quite habitable—with shelter tents for roofs, stone for fire-places and chimneys, laid in mud, with an occasional topping off with barrels. Co. G terraced the sloping ground where they made their beds, and were careful to keep their heads level. They cut the boughs of red cedar and laid them deep above the damp earth. The fire-places smoked inside as well as out, by the use of green oak for fuel, and the little dwellings, in fact, were considerably tainted thereby with an odor akin to that of soap-boiling, an abiding fragrance; and the eyes of the heroes were moist with tears while the oak was frying. Very wrong indeed it was, to throw blank cartridges down a fellow's chimney; and such capers were cut up in some of the companies, but not in G, who were dignified. The honor of Lenox rested, the easterly portion upon the shoulders of Co. B, with Co. G at the other end, and they carried it from their homes to the depths of Florida, and brought it back untarnished; unless critics wish to bring up chickens and such—but chickens do not count in affairs of honor.

For the first time since leaving Hamilton Co. G were short of rations. Hardtack was scarce for a while at Stafford and the thought itself is hungrifying. Piteous reports reached their homes and the good people there filled boxes with food and other comforts. And one day, soon after the holidays, the regimental teams brought in a car-load or two of boxes, long delayed on the road, and the abundance of army rations for a time, were neglected for better fare. To those fellows who received no boxes, was freely given by the more fortunate. In many instances the boxes were found rifled of much of the original contents,—a common occurrence. There were gangs of plunderers hanging about all army depots and landing-places, who were ever waiting for opportunities, and they would steal the food from the sick, rifle knapsacks of the living and the pockets of the dead, whenever possible. Many of those depraved creatures were enlisted men, and those of them who lived long enough, no doubt, became pensioners; consequently, heroic veterans. Yet Co. G were glad if the boxes only came, seeing in them lumber for small tables or doors.

The holidays were passed in this camp, with Col. Arrowsmith in command. Brown had been furloughed. A few of the boys were lucky to obtain fowls and hoe-cake, from the residents living near. In some of the squads they parched corn obtained of the teamsters, or battery-men. Money was very scarce and there was a tobacco famine. The poker-players used bills of broken banks and bills advertising Morgan's rifled cannon, or some business college. They had been mustered, but not paid.

One day a stray sutler stopped at the camp. He was a pleasant man and the boys patronized him freely, until the merchant discovered he was exchanging his goods for worthless paper. Col. Arrowsmith was appealed to, with no satisfaction, and the sutler moved along, sadly.

After that, for a time, tobacco was plenty in the camp. Those who had been smoking coffee or chewing a stick, now were willing to prosecute the war in earnest. The ginger-bread eaters were lively as crickets, but the stock of bad money was low.

At Stafford there were frequent desertions among the men. Several left the good society of Co. G. The men were discouraged like the chaplain, and many of them would have resigned were it not that they thus would desert their officers.

The officers of the regiment were getting discouraged also, some of them because they were homesick, some because they were better off at home, and many because they were sickened of warfare. They had marched over one hundred miles, saw the smoke of a terrible battle, and their ardor was appeased. By the middle of January sixteen of them had resigned from discouragement and one from disability. Twelve left at one time, and later on others resigned, until Capt. Frank Place of Co. C, was the only one left of the original ten captains and he returned with the regiment as major. His first lieutenant, J. A. Coffin, after serving a long term in rebel prisons, returned and was mustered out as captain of that company. Captain Dunbar died, of disease, Capt. Adams of wounds, Captains Frank and Backus were killed in battle and Capt. Stone died in prison at Macon. Thus accounting for the original thirty line officers. In spite of such terrible temptation, Co. G were true. "Guide North!" exclaimed one of the departing captains, as he mounted a baggage wagon; and quite a number of his men soon followed him. Similar changes were going on in all of the new regiments.

Sickness prevailed alarmingly at Stafford. A crowd of men attended surgeon's call each morning and kept three doctors busy until long into the night. Fortunately the serious cases were comparatively few. The illness resulted from exposures and the inexperience of the men, in most of the cases.

For the information of any persons who are ignorant as to knowledge of the shelter-tent it may be said that this kind of a tent is used by troops in the field in active service. Each soldier draws one piece of tent,—a piece of white or unbleached twilled cotton cloth about one yard and a half square. In two corners of the cloth are loops of light rope to be used when the tent is held to the ground with stakes; around the margins of three sides of the cloth are button-holes set at regular distances, and two inches above each hole is a bone button. As they are exactly alike, any two soldiers may join their pieces and thus raise a shelter, or three or four, by uniting and pitching the tent at a right angle, can close the tent ends, using two of the pieces cornerwise. Buttoning together the pieces for roofing only, they could be extended to any length, and sometimes, by exercising a little ingenuity, they were made to cover quite a large building. Thus is space devoted to this subject because the shelter tent was an important article in the outfit of Co. G.

What is called the Mud March began January 20th, 1863, when the Army of the Potomac was ordered out of their snug huts and started on a campaign against the enemy.

Before daylight on the 20th, Co. G were routed out and ordered to strike tents and take the road. Old Ziba had cooked beef and pork and the boys carried, also, three day's rations of coffee, sugar and hard-tack.

Lieut. Bailey had been transferred to Co. K, as captain, Lieut. Frank was promoted in Bailey's place and Sergeant Hemstreet was made second lieutenant of Co. G.

That particular morning Capt. Tuttle was not in very good humor and the boys of Co. G were hustled around lively; and they were all ready and waiting in good season, for the order to move.

They had quite a tramp of ten or twelve miles, halting at Hartwood Church, near night. Soon rain began to fall and at dark was coming down quite briskly.

A pontoon train that was drawn up waiting for the arrival of Co. G and the other troops, as soon as darkness came on, started for the Rappahannock river a few miles distant, where engineers were to lay a bridge, that in the small hours of the night Co. G (with other troops) could be slipped over there quietly and as the daylight returned the astonished rebels were to find they had work cut out for them. Unfortunately, the rain softened the roads and the wagons bearing the pontoon boats stuck fast in the mud. The artillery that was to cover the laying of the bridge also stuck in the mud, and horses and mules stuck in the mud. And it became necessary to send men with ropes to pull the wagons, artillery, horses and mules out of the mud.

When scouts of the Union army approached the river next day they saw a board duly lettered with these words—

"Burnside Stuck in the Mud."

Co. G had been kept in suspense expecting momentarily to be ordered away, until word came to the boys to make themselves comfortable as possible. A picket was thrown out near the camp. But the failure of the expedition brought little comfort to those unfortunates who were obliged to stand out two hours in the cold rain, which poured from their caps down their back bones and into the shoes. Sleep to a weary soldier is sweeter when he knows his faithful comrades are watching over him, particularly on such a stormy night.

Burnside had again been unfortunate, this time doing just enough to christen his effort with a most appropriate name, "The Mud March," and it appeared to the army that the elements had conspired to save them from another defeat. Lee was prepared for the event and his guns were placed to sweep the bridge if laid.

Burnside pulled and lugged until he had the greater portion of his army back in their old quarters near Falmouth.

The 11th Corps went into camp on Oakland Farms in a handsome piece of timber. Chestnut trees supplied material for huts and the men were soon busy.

While in this camp snow fell to a depth of one foot. The demands for details for picket came often—the lines were heavy. The rebels were known to be near.

How fiercely the wind swept the light snow in blinding eddies around a fellow's head those nights, compelling him to trot lively or freeze. Posts were relieved every hour instead of every two as was usual. At the grand guard below the hill, in the woods, a bright fire was kept burning. When relieved from his post the picket made his bed on two rails propped above the pools of water and melting snow. Such experiences were common in bad weather.

The army shoes were the greatest hindrance to comfort. They were made of leather poorly tanned, and frequently brown paper was found laid in between the outer and inner soles. Such affairs soon wetted through. The consciences of army contractors were terribly warped during the war time. How very wicked it is to tempt some men with fat contracts.

When the shanties were nearly completed, Feb. 5th, orders came to move nearer the base of supplies. Co. G were getting familiar with house-warming and moving-days. Already had they built three shanties and were now to pack up and journey into a new country and raise a fourth. Such experiences were not pleasant in the depths of a Virginia winter.

An unpleasant march through mud and snow brought the men to Potomac Creek where they stopped for the night. Next day they reached Accokick Creek and were marched into a dense growth of pine favorably located on sloping ground, and about three-fourths of a mile from Brooks Station.

Col. Brown ordered the men to build huts and arrange for a stay of months. Many of the little buildings were really comfortable. When the regiment moved into the wood the timber stood very dense but not large. A few days later not a tree was standing; all had been cut down and converted into building timber. Stone was scarce and many of the huts had fireplaces of wood well plastered with clay, the chimneys of sticks laid up in clay.

Once more were the boys of Co. G settled in house-keeping and ready for company. It was a pleasant camp in many respects. The health of the men improved, food was abundant, good water convenient, plenty of picket duty, very little drilling, mail regular; a sutler was adopted by the regiment, and finally came a paymaster, and Co. G were happy. This was the first time they received pay after being in the service, nearly six months. The sutler gave credit, however and thus had a tobacco famine been averted.

Paymasters are generally well received among troops. Many of the men had left at home dependent ones who needed relief. But in most instances the money was not really necessary. To be sure money was needed for postage but that was about all. Ginger-snaps, canned lobster and oysters, or jelly, and hair oil were better on the shelves of the sutler's tent. Sardines might also be listed, inasmuch as two of the boys of Co. G were punished for stealing sardines from a sutler.

Co. G were not out to inculcate morality, and felt the shame of detection in any case in which their honesty was involved with a sutler. They were modest men. Hugh O'Brien was shocked when he heard that those boys had been betrayed by one of the company who had partaken of the stolen sardines; and Hugh reached forward quickly and struck the informer, because he had "peached" on the boys. Hugh was too good a soldier to be severely punished.

While in this camp, Capt. Tuttle resigned and Lieut. Frank was made Captain. Hemstreet was promoted to first and Sergt. Gates second lieutenant, and John H. Roe to orderly sergeant. Co. G supplied officers on short notice to other companies if required and retained plenty of material made up and anxious.

During those dreary winter days, while the fate of the nation was undecided and the newspapers were wiping from the face of the earth the last trace of rebellion, fathers and mothers grew very anxious for their dear boys at the front. Some of them wrote fault-finding letters, deploring the war. The majority, however, never for one moment doubted the result. And the dear girls, how loyal they were. So tender and true. They were worth one hundred thousand men.

"Say, Mamie," wrote a comrade to his sister, "do you know that Dick actually kissed the last letter you sent him? I really believe he is licking the stamp this very minute."

"Please write me no more such nonsense as that, Sammy dear," she replied, "as I do not believe you. If true, Dick would soon suspect me devoted to the filthy habit of chewing tobacco. Father affixed that stamp."

Frequently a letter came from some fair one, a total stranger to the soldier; for the girls felt they were justified in waiving formalities, while risking censure from cynical people. Their letters were very acceptable. Nothing did more to hold the boys within the bounds of morality and decency than the kind letters from home. Many of them have preserved those pages, creased, crumpled and worn and to their last days will regard them as the choicest relics of the war-time.

While at the camp among the stumps, Col. Brown inaugurated his school for commissioned officers. Many of them needed schooling. It was reported that an examining Board had been instituted at headquarters.

The colonel also gave instruction to the non-commissioned officers, and privates who yearned for advancement.

Added to his other beneficent undertakings, Col. Brown regularly conducted prayer-meetings at his quarters. He had been a missionary teacher among the Choctaw Indians and likely supposed the 157th offered fruitful ground. If the colonel had stopped there, he would have done better. Soon a chaplain appeared.

United States Army Regulations provided that "the wishes and wants of the soldiers of the regiment shall be allowed their full and due weight in making the selection" of a chaplain. What use could Co. G make of a chaplain. They were enlisted in war. Their plowshares and their pruning hooks were far away in Lenox among the hop-vines, "up the creek," and they carried no swords.

What need had the regiment or the army for a preacher? Why not have a regimental lawyer? Only in rare instances was a chaplain worth the salt he ate. In garrison a preacher may be useful as a school teacher, but he is not needed in active service. Co. G had believers and skeptics,—Protestants and Catholics—to have forced a chaplain upon that company would have compromised their sacred rights and liberties. They were "fighting God's battles," and every one had a nice little testament, somewhere. Co. G were not allowed their "full and due weight" in the matter of a chaplain. As a man there was not great fault found with this chaplain, and he held forth acceptably. He was only one of thousands of supernumeraries who could well have been dispensed with, in that trying war.

In his General Order No. 1, of Jan. 27, 1863, Gen. Hooker says, "He enters upon the charge of the duties imposed by his trust with a just appreciation of their responsibility."

Gen. Burnside in his final order relinquishing the command of the army to Hooker, says "Give to the brave and skilful general who has long been identified with your organization and who is now to command you, your full and cordial support and cooperation and you will deserve success."

Burnside commanded the army about eleven weeks. Hooker, about five months.

When Meade superseded him, Hooker in his farewell order says, "Impressed with the belief that my usefulness as the commander of the Army of the Potomac is impaired. I part from it, yet not without the deepest emotion."

By comparing the sentiments expressed in those extracts one would imagine that Burnside had reason to feel consoled when his successor failed.

The real, real key to all the troubles experienced by Gen. Burnside will be found in the letter of President Lincoln to Hooker when he tendered the command to him. It is a characteristic production of Mr. Lincoln, in which Hooker is severely rebuked. Never has the full extent of the criticisms against and neglects practiced upon Burnside, been exposed to the public. But from the tone of the President's letter one would infer that Gen. Hooker was not considered blameless.

This much of history and comment is given because the gallant Co. G are soon to meet the enemy and win laurels under Joe Hooker, which are never accorded them.

Early in 1863 Gen. Sigel was superseded by Gen. O. O. Howard as commander of the 11th Corps. The badge of the 11th Army Corps was a blue crescent on a white field. Funny fellows in other corps declared it was a "flying half-moon." Co. G cared very little for such flings. As for "flying," they knew the records of many other corps, and they also remembered Sigel had been highly praised once upon a time.

With Co. G the world kept rolling on, and after the proclamation of emancipation it really looked as though oil had been poured in at the axes. The patriotic order or address issued by Gen. Schurz on Washington's birthday, brought up the shades of the past, and Co. G seemed marching on, in sunshine, escorted by the fathers of the revolution. The signs were declared to be favorable once more.

Gen. Hooker, to cheer up the army, granted ten-day furloughs; two men were to go from each company, and when they returned, more were furloughed. The first two from Co. G came back promptly. Of the next, but one returned, consequently Co. G could have no more home-going. The scamp who deserted was always troublesome. He had been detached at division headquarters. How he ever was allowed to step between good, dutiful soldiers and the prospect of furloughs, is not known. The fellow was discovered as a bounty-jumper, at Elmira a few months later, and courtmartialed, and sent to Fort Clinch, Florida, to complete his term at building fortifications.

As spring approached and the ground became firm, the men were drilled regularly. Inspections were frequent. The Sunday morning inspection related to cleanliness of person as well as arms, equipments and quarters. Every man was obliged to stand at "attention" with one foot bared, and occasionally the surgeons ordered prompt bathing. A very few of the boys were taken by a guard, to the creek and there scrubbed. Co. G had none of its members forcibly bathed, but a fellow occasionally would escape with one clean foot. By and by, whenever possible, the men were cleanly for sake of comfort.

When Sunday inspections came the cook-houses were thoroughly looked after. Ziba Cloyes the cook of Co. G and Pat Matthews, his assistant, kept all their kettles and pans in first-class order. Nobody needed fear to partake of Ziba's fare. He was an old hotel keeper and understood culinary matters.

Ziba's violin was a great exhilarator and the boys gathered around his tent to hear the well-known strains of good old-fashioned reels and hornpipes played, in style. And they straightway paired and whirled in stag-dances, stepping to the strains of Ziba's music.

When Gen. Hooker took command of the army he reviewed the 11th Corps. Gen. Howard also reviewed them. And a review, to soldiers in the field, often forecasts a movement of the force.

Gen. Schimmelpfennig had the brigade out for drill. Col. Brown frequently marched the regiment out for new manoeuvres, and Col. Arrowsmith did the same. Capt. Frank had Co. G drilling for the first time as skirmishers, a drill which was of little use unless accompanied by actual, genuine experiences.

On the 10th day of April, 1863, the Army of the Potomac was reviewed by President Lincoln. Co. G came out in fine feather. New uniforms and blackened leathers, polished brass, clean guns, and white gloves. The boys were fast becoming useful soldiers. Discipline had greatly improved their appearance; drill made them prompt and correct.

When the boys marched past the President in company front—"Eyes right!" came from Capt. Frank—there sat, upon his horse, a plain citizen, who bared his head and smiled as though he knew every one of Co. G and could name them all. The line was fine, their carriage good, and Capt. Frank was proud of his men. It was a red-letter day for the company.

Capt. Frank seldom made speeches. That day was an exception. When the company returned to camp, the captain said—

"Boys, you have done well—you have done nobly—as well as any of them. You have done bully, by ginger! Orderly, break ranks."

During the latter part of April orders were received to pack all superfluous clothing and send the boxes to the river. By this time the supply of books, albums and the like, was exhausted. Much of more value to a soldier, had accumulated during the winter and Co. G made a fair showing of packages. Those goods were never returned to the men.

Spring weather had come and the little frogs and the big frogs were telling the world of it. Trees were beginning to leaf out and grass was showing here and there. Hooker thought it time to make a move.

On the morning of April 27th with eight days' rations and sixty rounds of cartridges the men left their huts and started for Chancellorsville—of course their destiny was unknown at the time, but Co. G scented the battle from afar. The haversacks were filled with hard bread, boiled beef and pork, coffee and sugar. In the new knapsacks were surplus rations and twenty rounds of cartridges. No trouble now with knapsacks, for the load was light; but the haversacks dragged upon a fellow's shoulder. There was this consoling in such a load, it kept growing lighter and lighter, each meal.

The boys felt well and marched along in fine style. Co. G were becoming weather-beaten and seasoned.

After an easy march the column halted beyond Hartford church for the night. Next morning was rainy. During the day the troops were moved up near the Rappahannock and marched into the woods and told to keep very quiet and wait until it was dark.

Toward midnight Co. G, with the others, were moved down to Kelly's Ford. The pontoon bridge was covered with earth, men were forbidden to speak aloud; a move to flank the rebels was in progress.

The 157th was the first new regiment to cross over. In the ranks of Co. G strict silence was enjoined. Charley Near was not permitted to torment Pete Cummings. A truce was established, temporarily, between the Johnsons, Zerne and Jim. Ir Sayles was not singing. Orderly Forbes marched at the front supported by John Pfleiger and Amos Avery, while Dan Brockway brought up the rear. Dan always led the company when they marched left in front. All was quiet. The boys declared the night was so dark they might bite it; but the report that the pioneers went ahead and tunneled a passage through was pure imagination.

After crossing the river and ascending the slope a faint line of light could be traced along the horizon. The regiment was marched to its position in line of battle and halted, to await the arrival of other troops, and later were moved forward to a piece of woods and went into bivouac.

Early the morning of the 29th, rebel cavalrymen were seen in the distance and a few artillery shots were thrown at them. Col. Brown rode forward to reconnoiter, soon returning hotly chased by the naughty johnnies.

The route taken that day was toward the Rapidan. Late in the afternoon the column arrived in the vicinity of Germania and lay until after night, waiting for a bridge to be laid, for the enemy had destroyed the crossing. When all was ready, Co. G marched down to the river. A narrow passage had been prepared, by laying planks from one abutment to another, down close to the rapid flowing water. Large fires were burning on either bank to light the way. Co. G went over, cautiously, without wetting a foot. John Schultz had resigned; had he been present, it is likely he would have turned turtle, the same as he plumped into the slip at New York. But the entire corps got over safely and went into bivouac on the cold, wet ground. No fires were allowed until daylight.

The halt after crossing the Rapidan is known in the annals of Co. G as the time and place where Brock was detailed to guard the fiddle of Ziba, the cook.

Now the boys were to march in the enemy's country. Before crossing at Kelly's Ford, the regiment was drawn up and reminded that the eyes of Cortland and Madison counties were upon them, which was no news to the heroes. Col. Brown's tone on such occasions sounded very solemn as though the eyes of those counties were sad.

The boys respected Col. Brown; they could not blame him for not showing a cheerfulness he did not possess. There was something about those speeches suggestive of a lack of confidence; it is believed the one delivered at Kelly's Ford was the last of the series. Col. Arrowsmith never commanded the boys in battle. The methods of Col. Carmichael will appear as the record develops.

April 30th opened misty and unpleasant. The road passed into the celebrated Wilderness, finally striking the Fredericksburg plank road. In the afternoon the destination of the 11th Corps was reached, and the men were bivouaced nearly in position for battle.

May 1st the historic order congratulating the right wing of the army was read to the men. "That the enemy must either ingloriously fly, or come out from behind his defenses and give us battle on our own ground." He came, he saw, and the result is history.

The troops were ordered to burn all clothing and prepare for light-marching order. The Army of the Potomac was preparing for a lively race toward Richmond. Such an order proved wise and timely, and much was destroyed that otherwise would have fallen into the hands of the enemy.

Towards night the 157th was moved forward nearer the plank road and ordered to strike arms and rest. Appearances favored a fight. Soon after dark a rebel battery threw some shells over the line and Co. G, for the first time heard the bang! pop! whi-z-z! of shelling; no one was struck. But few shells were thrown, when all was quiet again. Johnny reb. was only feeling for Co. G.

Many of the boys long remembered the whip-poor-will chorus in the woods about them, as they lay behind their guns that night. When the rebels opened fire the birds ceased at once. The enemy had spoiled the concert.

May 2d was Saturday. Fresh beef was issued to the men about noon time, and the company cooks proceeded to arrange their kettles for boiling the meat.

All this time Stonewall Jackson is approaching Hooker's right flank. Several officers from the picket line came in and reported to headquarters of Howard, that the enemy were working around on the right. Maj. Carmichael, of the 157th, was on the line; he was one of the brigade officers-of-the-day. Those officers by message and in person informed the commander of the 11th Corps that the enemy were moving in force.

Says Maj. Carmichael, "All these messages received the reply that we were green troops more scared than hurt."

About the time the officers from the picket line were trying to arouse Gen. Howard to action, Gen. Hooker sent him these instructions:

"The disposition you have made of your corps has been with a view to a front attack by the enemy. If he should throw himself upon your flank he [Hooker] wishes you to examine the ground and determine upon the position you will take. * * * He suggests that you have heavy reserves well in hand to meet this contingency. * * * We have good reason to suppose that the enemy is moving on our right. Please advance your pickets * * * in order to obtain timely information of their approach."

Howard's headquarters were lethargic; his troops were enjoying themselves.

Stonewall Jackson was a very busy man while Howard was reclining very comfortably at Dowdall's Tavern.

While the events just related were occurring the boys of Co. G were writing letters which the chaplain was to carry away and mail. One of those letters, written on a drum-head, portrays a scene as follows:

"Nearly all the privates in Co. G are on picket. It is a novel sight to see the men, who are in good spirits, taking their ease. Some chatting, some cooking, others playing cards, while many are writing: but the most of them are sleeping."

It was about this time that Jackson was conducted to a knoll overlooking the position of Howard's men. He saw the whole display of neglect—the absence of supporting columns and all. And he started his men forward.

Near five o'clock p.m. the storm broke. First a few shots and then a volley. From the extreme right came rushing a crowd of supernumeraries of all grades. Thirty thousand rebels had surprised the first division of the 11th Corps. A portion of the first and also of the third divisions were absent reconnoitering. Back came the first division upon the third, followed by the exultant enemy. The boys of the first division did all they could, but what could they do?

Col. Brown was ordered forward and then countermarched to a position east of the Hawkins house and behind some shallow rifle-pits thrown up the night before. Gen. Schimmelpfennig says, reporting to Gen. Schurz—

"The first line of our division in connection with Col. Bushbeck's brigade of Gen. Steinwehr's (2d) division, formed behind two of our regiments, the 82d Illinois and the 157th N.Y., (the first commanded by Col. Hecker and the second by Col. Brown) and occupied the rifle-pits. * * * Your two brigades and that of Col. Bushbeck, together comprising not quite 4,000 muskets, alone received the entire shock of the battle and held the enemy in check at least an hour. The three brigades above-named although both their flanks were turned, stood their ground until a sufficient time had elapsed for the other corps to come to their assistance and take position in their rear. * * * For the surprise on the flank and rear, in broad daylight, by a force outnumbering us four to one, the responsibility falls not on the third division. * * * General, I am an old soldier. Up to this time I have been proud of commanding the brave men of this brigade; but I am convinced if the infamous lies uttered about us are not retracted and satisfaction given, their good will and soldierly spirit will be broken."

Good, brave "little Schimmel," their soldierly spirit was not broken, and they were yours to lead for many a weary mile through stifling dust and burning heat.

The battle of Chancellorsville has gone into history and may be found therein by any person who wishes to follow the battle. So far as Co. G are responsible, little more need be said.

After the terrible experience near the Hawkins house, the 157th was withdrawn in excellent order and retreated, after some delay, to the rear of the newly formed line of battle. Adjutant McWilliams was dispatched in the gathering gloom, to find the proper road, and went straight into the rebel lines, and was forwarded to Richmond. Fortunately, the opposite direction was taken, and Col. Brown led his men safely out of the woods. They lay in reserve on Sunday and Sunday night, when the artillery of both forces shook the ground and filled the air with bursting shells. Early in the morning of May 5th the Army of the Potomac was withdrawn and in a miserable rainstorm dragged themselves across the Rappahannock and paddled through the mud back to their old camp on Accokick Creek. When they marched away they took the road—on their return they came across lots and found much easier traveling.

There was an important part played by Battery I, 1st Ohio Artillery, in the Chancellorsville fight that adds to the record of Schimmel's brigade, very much. Capt. Dilger, a Prussian officer, who commanded the battery faced the advancing men of Jackson until nearly cut off, losing one gun. He then retreated down the plank road. Sending four of his guns to the rear he retreated leisurely, firing as he went and clearing the enemy from the road.

But the gallantry of the boys of the 11th Corps was overlooked in the general casting of results. There must of course always be a scape-goat for blunders in war, and it would not have done to place the blame upon West Point graduates.

The losses of the 157th regiment in the battle of Chancellorsville fight, aggregated about one hundred. Co. G lost, Asa Lawrence, killed; John Pfleiger badly wounded and Henry Whaling slightly wounded,—the least number hit of any company in the regiment. Co. A lost the most men in that battle—one lieutenant and three men killed and sixteen men wounded and missing. Co. B came next, with three men killed and ten wounded.

It was sad to think, after computing the fatalities and speculating upon the fate of the missing, that away up in Lenox the people were reading in the newspapers that Co. G were not so great a success, after all. That their dear boys had "marched up the hill," exchanged shots "and then marched down again." As communities, would Clockville, Hoboken, Wampsville and Canastota have preferred to see their sons brought home on their shields rather than had Hooker made a failure? Perhaps so. Very likely. But Co. G were satisfied to live just as long as possible.

Nor did the galling tirades of War Critics cease with the passing of the moment. Before the War Committee of Congress, and in standard history, the bile of the enemies of the 11th Corps is spread the mark of Cain. Many of those critics are now dead, but their works do follow them. No Corps of the Army is so bitter in comment of this kind as the 1st Corps, and they did not reach the field until after Jackson was checked. Then there was still time to win laurels, fresh and brilliant. Ah, the world will never know why the corps did not come up in time to help Co. G whip the naughty Jackson.

One of the missing of Co. G was Dan Brockway, the bodyguard for Ziba's violin. A few days passed and the news came that Brock was a prisoner. But he was promptly exchanged and was soon present at roll-call.

"Brock, how about the violin?" asked one.

"Well it was this way, boys. I was in the tent, when the rebs came and told me to crawl out. They sent me to the rear."

"And the fi-f-f-fiddle," asked John Miller. "T-t-tell us about the—here—here—f-fiddle."

"Oh, I carried the fiddle with me. By and by along came a reb and wanted to borrow the thing. I told him it belonged to Ziba, and I didn't like to part with it. 'Oh,' says the johnny, 'I'll take good care of your fiddle; there's a right smart of we'uns can play.' So I let him take it and he never brought it back."

"I'll tell you what, b-boys, we oughter do. Jest take the b-blamed little cuss over there and exchange him for the here—here—fiddle. What do you say, boys—hey?"

It was a dreary reception the boys found on their return to their old shanties. Rain was falling and the interiors of the huts were thoroughly soaked. But they stretched once more their tent covering and moved in. Fires were started and fresh boughs laid upon the bunks, so it was not long before everyone was comfortable and the routine of camp once more established.