xt7cfx73v69h https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7cfx73v69h/data/mets.xml Lawrence, George A. (George Alfred), 1827-1876. 1863  books b92-163-30098258 English W.I. Pooley, : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. United States History Civil War, 1861-1865 Personal narratives, Confederate. United States History Civil War, 1861-1865 Prisoners and prisons. Border and bastille  / by the author of "Guy Livingstone." text Border and bastille  / by the author of "Guy Livingstone." 1863 2002 true xt7cfx73v69h section xt7cfx73v69h 

















BORDER AND BASTILLE.

 This page in the original text is blank.

 


BORDER AND BASTILLE.





               BY





   THE AUTHOR OF "GUY LIVINGSTONE."



         gm ;     :
    W. I. POOLEY  CO.,
HARPERS' BUILDING, FRANKLIN SQUARE.

 






































































WYNKOOp, HALLENBECK  THOMAs, PRIERs,
      Now 113 FuYo SC.-, Ngw You.

 





L'ENVOL.



  WIHEN, late in last autumn, I determined to
start for the Confederate States as soon as neces-
sary preparations could be completed, I had list-
ened, not only to my own curiosity, impelling me
at least to see one campaign of a war, the like of
which this world has never known, but also to
the suggestions of those who thought that I might
find materials there for a book that would inter-
est many here in England. My intention, from
the first, was to serve as a volunteer-aide in the
staff of the army in Virginia, so long as I should
find either pen-work or handiwork to do. The
South might easily have gained a more efficienC
recruit; but a more earnest adherent it would
have been hard to find.  I do not attempt to
disguise the fact that my predilections were thor-
oughly settled long before I left England; indeed,
it is the consciousness of a strong partisan spirit
at my heart which has made me strive so hard,
not only to state facts as accurately as possible,
but to abstain from coloring them with involun-
tary prejudice.

 

L'ENVOI.



  To say nothing of my being afterwards backed
by the powerful Secessionist interest at Balti-
more, the introductory letters furnished me by
Colonel Dudley Mann and Mr. Slidell, addressed
to the most influential personages-civil and mili-
tary-in the Confederacy, from President Davis
downwards, were such as could hardly have failed
to secure me the position I desired, though they
benevolently over estimated the qualifications of
the bearer. To the first of these gentlemen I am
indebted for much kindness and valuable advice:
to the second I am personally unknown; and I am
glad to have this opportnnity of acknowledging
his ready courtesy. It was Colonel Mann who
counseled my going through the Northern States,
4nstead of attempting to run the blockade from
Nassau or Bermuda, as I had originally intended.
In spite of the events, I am so certain that the
advice was sound and wise, that I do not re-
pent-scarcely regret-having followed it.
  I need not particularize the precaution taken
to insure the safe delivery of these credentials: it
is sufficient to state that they were never submit-
ted to Federal inspection; nor had I ever, at any
time, in my possession, a single document which



vi

 

LENVOI.



could vitiate my claim to the rights of a neutral
and civilian. Even Mr. Seward did not pretend to
refuse liberty of unexpressed sympathy with either
side to an utter foreigner. While I was a free
agent in the Northern States, I was careful to in.
dulge in no other.
  Since my return, I hear that some one has been
kind enough to insinuate that I might have suc-
ceeded better if I had been more careful to pros-
ecute my journey South with vigor at any risk;
or if I had been less imprudent in parading my
object while in Baltimore. I prefer to meet the
first of these assertions by a simple record of facts,
and by the most unqualified denial that it is pos-
sible to give to any falsehood, written or spoken.
As to the second-really quite as unfounded-it
may be well to say, that before I had been a full
fortnight in America, I was " posted " in the lit-
erary column of a Willis' Home Journal." I could
not quarrel with the terms in which the intelli-
gence-avowedly copied from an English paper-
was couched. The writer seemed to know rather
more about my intentions-if not of my antece-
dents than I knew myself; but I can honestly
say that the halo of romance with which he was



mi

 


Viii                L'ENVOL.

pleased to surround a very practical purpose, did
not however compensate me for the inconvenient
publicity. This paragraph soon found its way into
other journals, and at last confronted me-to my
infinite disgust-in the "Baltimore Clipper," a
bitter Unionist organ.
  Perhaps this will answer sufficiently the accu-
sation, of " parade," for even had we been disposed
to indulge in an " alarum and flourish of trum-
pets," the sensation-mongers would have antici-
pated the absurdity. Besides this, my movements
were not in anywise interfered with up to the mo-
ment 'of my arrest, when we were miles beyond
all Federal pickets. My captors, of course, had
never heard of my existence till we met. It is
more than probable that the report just referred
to did greatly complicate my position when I was
actually in confinement; but here my person-not
my plans suffered, and here, the real mischief of
that very involuntary publicity began and ended.
  After my plans were finally arranged, I had an
interview with the editorial powers of the Morn-
ing, Post; there it was settled that I should com-
municate to that journal as constantly as circum-
stances would permit, any interesting matter or

 

L'ENVOI.



incidents that fell in my way, in consideration of
which was voted a liberal supplement of the sin-
ews of war; but it was clearly understood that
my movements and line of action were to be abso-
lutely untrammeled. I could not have entered
into any contract that in any way interfered with
the primary object I had in view. I had no inten-
tion of commencing such correspondence before I
had actually crossed the southern frontier, so that
one letter from Baltimore-afterwards quoted-
was the solitary contribution I was able to furnish.
  I have said thus much, because I wish any one
who may be interested on the point to know
clearly on what footing I stood at starting: for
the general public, of course, the subject cannot
have the slightest interest.
  Of all compositions, I suppose, a personal narra-
tive is the most wearying to the writer, if not to
the reader; egotistical talk may be pleasant
enough, but, commit it to paper, the fault carries
its own punishment. The recurrence of that ever-
lasting first pronoun becomes a real stumbling-
block to one at last. Yet there is no evading
it, unless you cast your story into a curt, succinct
diary; to carry this off effectively, requires a



is:

 

x                   L'ENVOI.

succession of incidents, more varied and important
than befell me.
  A failure-absolute and complete -however
brought about, is a fair mark for mockery, if not
for censure. Perhaps, however, I may hope that
some of my readers, in charity, if not in justice,
will believe that I have honestly tried to avoid
over-coloring details of personal adventure, and
that no word here is set down in willful insincerity
or malice, though all are written by one whose
enmity to all purely republican institutions will
endure to his life's end.


 







CONTENTS.



CHAPTER I.



A FOUL START,



CHAPTER II.



CONGRESSIA,



CHAPTER III.



CAPUA,



              CHAPTER IV.
FRIENDS IN COUNCIL,

               CHAPTER V.
THE FORD,

              CHAPTER VI.
THE FERRY,



              CHAPTER VII.
FALLEN ACROSS THE THRESHOLD,

              CHAPTER VIII.
THE ROAD TO AVERNUS,

              CHAPTER IX.
CAGED BIRDS,   .



PAGE



1



23



43



6 0



7 9



109



130



153



172

 


xii              CONTENTS.

                                       PAGE
               CHAPTER X.
DARK DAYS,                             190

               CHAPTER XI.
HOMEWARD BOUND,                        218

              CHAPTER XII.
A POPULAR ARMAMENT,   .                234

              CHAPTER XIII.
THE DEBATABLE GROUND)       .       .  255

              CHAPTER XIV.
SLAVERY AND THE WAR,  .     .    .     2T3


 






     BORDER AND BASTILLE.


                CHAPTER I.
             A FOUL START.
  LOOKING back on an experience of many lands
and seas, I cannot recall a single scene more
utterly dreary and desolate than that which
awaited us, the outward-bound, in the early
morning of the 20th of last December. The
same sullen neutral tint pervaded and possessed
everything-the leaden sky-the bleak brown
shores over against us-the dull graystone work
lining the quays-the foul yellow water-shading
one into the other, till the division-lines became
hard to discern.  Even where the fierce gust
swept off the crests of the river wavelets, boiling
and breaking angrily, there was scant contrast of
color in the dusky spray, or murky foam.
  The chafing Mersey tried in vain to make
himself heard. All other sounds-a voice, for
instance, two yards from your ear-were drowned
by the trumpet of the strong northwester.  All
through the past nighlt, we listened to that note
of war; we could feel the railway carriages
trembling and quivering, as if shaken by some
rude giant's hand, when they halted at any
           1

 

BORDER AND BASTILLE.



exposed station; and, this morning, the pilots
shake their wise, grizzled heads, ahd hint at
worse weather yet in the offing. For forty-
eight hours the storm-signals had never been
lowered, nor changed, except to intimate the
shifting of a point or two in the current of the
gale, and few vessels, if any, had been found
rash enough to slight " the admiral's" warning.
  It had been gravely discussed, we heard after-
wards, by the owners and captain of " The Asia,"
whether she should venture to sea that day;
finally, the question was left to the latter to
decide. There are as nice points of honor, and
as much jealous regard for professional credit
in the merchant service as in any other. Only
once, since the line was started, has a " Cunarder "
been kept in port by wind or weather-this was
the commander's first trip across the Atlantic
since his promotion; you may guess which way
the balance turned.
  We waited on the landing-stage one long cold
hour.   The huge square structure, ordinarily
steady and solid as the mainland itself, was pitch-
ing and rolling not much less " lively " than a
Dutch galliot in a sea-way; and the tug that was
to take us on board parted three hawsers before
she could make fast alongside. It was hard to
keep one's footing on the shaking, slippery bridge,
but in ten minutes all staggered or tumbled, as
choice or chance directed, on to the deck of the



2

 

'A FOUL START.



little steamer. I was looking for a dry corner,
when an American passenger made room for me
very courteously, and I began to talk to him
-about the weather, of course. It was a keen,
intellectual face, pleasant withal, and kindly, and
in its habitual expression not devoid of genial
humor. But, at that moment, it was possesesd
by an unutterable misery. No wonder.
  " I was ill the whole way over from America,"
he said, " and then we started with bright
weather and a fair wind."
  I was much attracted by the voice, betraying
scarcely any Transatlantic accent: it was quiet
and calm in tone, like that of any brave main on
his way to encounter some irresistible pain or
woe; but saddened by an agony of anticipation,
he presaged, only too truly, " the burden of the
atmosphere and the wrath to come."
  Another struggle and scramble-and we are
on board, at last.  It is some comfort to ex-
change that wretched little wet tug for the deck
of the Asia; " though a trifle unsteady even now,
she oscillates after the sober and stately fashion
befitting a mighty " liner." Half an hour sees
the end of the long stream of mail-bags, and the
huge bales of newspapers shipped ; then the moor-
ings are cast loose; there rises the faintest echo
of a cheer-who could be enthusiastic on such
a morning -the vast wheels turn slowly and
sullenly, as if hating the hard work before them;
ar:d wb are fairly off.

 

BORDER AND BASTILLE.



  The waves and weather grew rapidly wilder;
as we neared blue water, just after passing the
light, we saw a large ship driving helplessly
and -the sailors said-hopelessly, among the
breakers of the North Sands. She had tried to
run in without a pilot, and ours seemed to think
her fate the justest of judgments; but to dis-
interested and unprofessional spectators the sight
was very sad, and somewhat discouraging. So
with omen and augury, as well as the wind dead
against us.
            "The Sword went out to sea."
  All that day and night " The Asia" staggered
and weltered on through the yeasty channel
wave., breaking in her passengers rather roughly
for a conflict with vaster billows. Thirteen hours
of hard steaming barely brought us abreast of
Holyhead. The gale moderated towards morn-
ing, and we ran along the Irish coast under .a blue
sky, making Queenstown shortly after sundown.
  By this time I had become acquainted with
my cabin-mate, in which respect I was singularly
fortunate. M. - was a thorough Parisian, and
a favorable specimen of his class. Small of
stature. and slender of proportion-a very import-
ant point where space is so limited-low-voiced,
and sparing of violent expletives or gestures,
delicately neat in his person and apparel, one
could hardly have selected a more amiable col-



4

 

A FOUL START.



league under circumstances of some difficulty. I
can aver that he conducted himself always with
a perfect modesty and decorum: he would pre-
serve his equilibrium miraculously, when his per-
pendicular had been lost long ago: he never fell
upon me but once (sleeping on a sofa, I was
exposed defenselessly to all such contingencies),
and then lightly as thistle-down. On the rare
occasions when the mal-de-mer proved too much
for his valiant self-assertion, he yielded to an
overruling fate without groan or complaint: fold-
ing the scanty coverlet around him, he would
subside gradually into his berth, composing his
little limbs as gracefully as Caesar. His courtesy
was invincible and unltiring: he was anxious to
defer and conform even to my insular prejudices.
Discovering that I was in the habit of daily im-
mersing in cold water-a feat not to be accom-
plished without much toil, trouble, and abrasion
of the cuticle-he thought it necessary to simu-
late a like performance, though nothing would
have tempted him to incur such needless danger.
His endeavors to mislead me on this point, with-
out actually committing himself, were ingenious
and wily in the extreme. Sitting in the saloon
at the most incongruous hours of day and night,
he would exclaim, " J'ai l'idee de prendre bient6t
mon bain!" or he would speak with a shiver of
recollection of the imaginary plunge taken that
morning. I don't think I should ever have been



5

 


BORDER AND BASTILLE.



deluded, even if my curiosity had not led me to
question the steward; but never, by word or look,
did I impugn the reality of that Barmecide bath.
To his other accomplishments, M. - added a
very pretty talent for piquet; the match was even
enough, though, to be interesting, at almost nom-
inal stakes, and so we got pleasantly through
many hours-dark, wet, or boisterous.
  We were not a numerous company-only
thirty-three in all. Few amateurs travel at this
inclement season. I knew only one other English-
man on board, an officer in the Rifle Brigade,
returning to Canada from  sick-leave.  Among
the Americans was Cyrus Field, the energetic pro-
mioter of the Atlantic Telegraph, then making (I
think hie said) his thirtieth transit within five
years. He was certainly entitled to the freedom
of the ocean, if intimate acquaintance with every
fathom of its. depth and breadth could establish a
clain. It rather surprised me, afterwards, to see
such science and experience yield so easily to
the common weakness of seafaring humanity.
Mr. Field told me that throughout the fearful
weather to which the Niagara and Agamemnon
were exposed, on their first attempt to lay down
the cable, he never once felt a sensation of
nausea; the body had not time to suffer till
the mind was relieved from  its heavy, anxious
strain.
  For three days after leaving Quaeemnstown, the



6

 

A FOUL START.



west winds met us, steady and strong; but it
was not till the afternoon of Christmas day that
the sea began to " get up" in earnest, and the
weather to portend a gale. Then, the Atlantic
seemed determined to prove that report had
not exaggerated the hardships of a winter passage.
It blew harder and harder all Friday, and after a
brief lull on Saturday-as though gathering
breath for the final onset-the storm fairly reached
its height, and then slowly abated, leaving us
substantial tokens of its visit in the shape of
shattered boats, and the ruin of all our port
bulwarks forward of the deck-house. I fancy
there was nothing extraordinary in the tempest;
and, in a stout ship, with plenty of sea room,
there is probably little real danger; but about the
intense discomfort there could be no question. I
speak with no undue bitterness, for of nausea, in
any shape, I know of little or nothing, but-oh,
mine enemy !-if I could feel certain you were
well out in the Atlantic, experiencing, for just one
week, the weather that fell to our lot, I would
abate much of my animosity, purelyfrom satiation
of revenge.
  Unless absolutely prostrated by illness, the
voyager, of course, has a ravenous appetite;
such being the case, what can be more exas-
perating than having to grapple with a sort of
dioramic dinner, where the dishes represent a
series of dissolving views-mutton and beef of



7

 

BORDER AND BASTILLE.



mature age, leaping about with a playfulness only
becoming living lambs and calves-while the
proverb of " cup and lip" becomes a truism from
perpetual illustration  Neither is it agreeable,
after falling into an uncertain doze, to feel
dampness mingling strangely with your dreams,
and to awake to find yourself, as it were, an
island in a little salt lake formed by distillation
through invisible crevices.
       "Oh, laith, laith were our gude Scot lords
       To wet their cork-heeled shoon,"
says the grand old ballad; so, I suppose, it is
nothing " unbecoming the character of an officer
and a gentleman " to hold such midnight irriga-
tion in utter abhorrence.
  On one of these occasions I abandoned a post
no longer tenable, and went into the small saloon
close by, to seek a dry spot whereon to finish the
night. I found it occupied by a ghastly man,
with long, wild gray hair, and a white face-
striding staggeringly up and down-moaning to
himself in a harsh, hollow voice, "No rest; I
can't rest." He never spoke any other words, and
never ceased repeating these, while I remained
to hear him. Instantly there came back to my
memory a horrible German tale, read and forgot-
ten fifteen years ago, of a certain old and unjust
steward, Daniel by name, who, having murdered
his master by casting him down an oubliettes, ever
haunted the fatal tower, first as a sleep-walker,



8

 

A FOUL START.



then as a restless ghost-moaning and gibbering
to himself, and tearing at a walled-up door with
bleeding hands. The train of thought thereby
suggested was so very sombre, that I preferred
returning to my cabin, and climbing into an
unfurnished berth, to spending more minutes in
that weird company. I never made the man out
satisfactorily afterwards. It is possible that he
was one of the few who scarcely showed on deck
till we were in sight of land; but rather, I
believe, like other visions and voices of the night,
he changed past recognition under the garish light
of day.
  Then come the noi y nuisances, extending
through all the diapason of sound. One-the
most annoying-to which the ear never becomes
callous by use, is the incessant crash, not only
alongside, but overhead. At intervals -more
frequent, of course, after our bulwarks were
swept away-the green water came tumbling on
board by tons; and, being unable to escape
quickly enough by the after-scuppers, surged
backwards and forwards with every roll of the
vessel, as if it meant to keep you down and
bury you forever. Lying in my berth, I could
feel the heavy seas smite the strong ship one
cruel blow after another on her bows or beam,
till at last she would seem to stop altogether,
and, dropping her head, like a glutton in the
P. R,, would take her punishment sullenly, with.
          1



9

 


BORDER AND BASTILLE.



out an effort at rising or resistance. Nevertheless,
I stand by " The Asia," as a right good boat for
rough weather, though she is not a flyer, and
sometimes could hardly do more than hold her
own. Eighty-one knots in the twenty-four hours
was all the encouragement the log could give one
day.
  I liked our commander exceedingly. He had
just left the Mediterranean station, and there still
abode with him a certain languid levantine soft-
ness of voice and manner; when he came in to
dinner, out of the wild weather, the moral con-
trast with the turmoil outside was quite refreshing.
Report speaks highly of Captain Grace's seaman-
ship; and I believe in him far more implicitly
than I should in one of those hoarse and bluster-
ous Tritons, who think roughness and readiness
inseparable, and talk to you as if they were hailing
a consort.
  The library on board was not extensive, con-
sisting (with the exception of " The Newcomes ")
chiefly of religious works of the Nonconformist
school, and tales,. which have long ago passed into
surplus stock, or been withdrawn from general
circulation. But there was one invaluable novel,
which I shall always remember gratefully. I
never got quite through it, but I read enough
to be enabled to affirm, that its principles are
unexceptionable, its style grammatically faultless,
and its purpose sustained (ah, how pitilessly!)



10

 

A FOUL. START.



from first to last. The few amatory scenes are
conducted with the most rigid propriety; and
when there occurs a lover's quarrel, the parties
hurl high moral truths at each other, instead
of idle reproaches. But it is mainly as a sopori-
fic, that I would recommend "' Silwood :" on
four different occasions, under most trying cir-
cunistances it succeeded perfectly and promptly
withl  me, for which relief-unintentional, per-
chance-I tender much thanks to the uiiknown
author, and wish " more power to his arm."
  Quite crippled for the time being by rheu-
matismn, I was in bad form for clambering about
the sloping, slippery planks ; nevertheless I did
contrive to crawl up to the hurricane-deck just
before sun-down, about the crisis of the gale. I
confess to being disappointed in the "1 rollers :"
it may be that their vast breadth and volume
takes off from their apparent height, but I
scarcely thought it reached Dr. Scoresby's
standard-from 25 to 30 feet, if I remember right,
from trough to crest. One realizes thoroughly the
abysmal character of the turbulent chaos, and
there is a sensation of infiniteness around and
below you not devoid of grandeur; but as an
exhibition of the puissance of angry water, I
do not think the mid-ocean tempest equal to the
storm which brings the thunder of the surf full
on the granite bulwarks of Western Ireland.
  It must be owned, that the conversational



11

 


BORDER AND BASTILLE.



powers of our small society were limited. Very
often some selfishness mingled with my sincere
compassion for the prostrated sufferings of my
Philadelphian friend of the tug-boat; for when-
ever his weary aching head would allow of the
exertion, he could talk on almost any subject,
fluently and well. He was returning from a long
visit to Paris, and a rapid tour through Ger-
many and Southern Europe. Most of the coun-
tries, that he had been compelled to hurry over, I
had loitered through iu days past, and I ought to
have been shamed by the contrast in our recol-
lections-his, so clear and systematical-mine, so
vague and dim. An intellectual American travel-
lingithrough strange lands does certainly look at
nature, animate and inanimate, after a practi-
cal business-like fashion peculiar to his race; but
it would be unfair to infer that such minds are,
necessarily, unappreciative. At all events, that
concentrative, synthetical power, that takes in
surrounding objects at a single glance, and retains
them in a tolerably distinct classification, is
rather enviable, even as a mental accompl'sh-
ment.
  We did not speak much about the troubles be-
yond sea, and the Philadelphian was rather reserv-
ed as to his proclivities. My impression is, that
his sympathy tended rather southward (all his ear-
ly life had been spent in Alabama), but he declined
to commit himself much, nor do I believe that lie



12

 

A FOUL START.



was a violent partisan either way. On one point
lhe was very decided: Falkland himself could not
have wished more devoutly for the termination of
a fatal civil war-fatal, he said, to the interests,
present and future, of both the combatant powers-
ruinous to every class, with two exceptions; tLe
adventurers who, having little to lose, gained, by
joining the ranks of either army, a social position
to which they could not otherwise have aspired;
and the speculators, who, directly or indirectly,
fairly or unfairly, made gains vast and unholy,
such as wreckers are wont to gather in time of
tempest and general disaster. He scarcely allud-
ed to the corruption and peculation prevalent in
all high places, diluted in its downward percola-
tion till sutlers and horse-thieves would strive in
vain to emulate the fraudulent audacity of their
superiors. It was well he spared me then, for
soon after landing, my eyes and ears grew weary
with the repetition of all these ignoble details.
To illustrate how heavily the taxes were already
beginning to weigh on the non-militant part of
the population, my informant proved to me by
very clear figures that, if he indiyidually could
secure permanent exemption from such burdens
by the absolute sacrifice of one-tenth of his whole
property, real and personal, the commutation
would be decidedly advantageous to him. True,
he represented a class whose incomes exceeded a
certain standard, and therefore suffered rather



13

 


BORDER AND BASTILLE.



more heavily; but the same calculation, with
very slight alterations, applied to all other subord-
inate ones.
  Grave and mild of speech was the Philadelphian
philosopher, without a trace of dogmatism or self-
assertion in his tone; nevertheless, I judged him
to be a man of mark somewhere, and I afterwards
heard that, albeit not a violent or prominent pol-
tician, he had great honor in his own country.
  Strong head-winds and a heavy sea baffled us
till we had cleared the longitude of Cape Race;
then the wveather softened, the breeze veered round
till it blew on our quarter, and we had clear sky
above us all the way in. We sighted the first pilot-
boat on the afternoon of January 3d, and, as she
came sweeping down athwart us, with her broad,
white wings full spread, our glasses soon made
out the winning number of the sweepstakes, "' 22."
It was long past dinner hour when the beautiful
little schooner rounded to, under our lee, but all
appetite just then was merged in a craving for
latest intelligence.
  It was a caricaturist's study-the crowd of
keen, anxious faces round the gangway-as the
pilot came aboard. He was a stout man, of agri-
cultural exterior, looking as if he were in the
habit of ploughing anything rather than the deep
sea; but it is the fashion of his guild to eschew
the nautical as much as possible in their attire.
The "1 anxious inquirers" got little satisfaction



14

 

A FOUL START.



from him-he seemed taciturn by nature, if not
sullen-and they came back to where the rest
of us stood on the hurricane deck, muttering
discontentedly, " Gold at 46.  No news."  It
seemed very odd-such a complete stagnation of
affairs, military and civil-but we went to dinner
in spite of our disappointment. Before we rose
from table the truth began to ooze out.  One
or two New York papers, that had slipped on
board with the pilot, were more communicative
than he would or could be.
  Thousands of corpses, the full tale of which
will never be known till the day of judgment,
lying rolled in blood, with a handful of earth
raked over them under the fatal Fredericks-
burg heights; the finest army in Federaldom
hurled back upon its intrenchments ; nothing
but darkness covering a disastrous, if not shame-
ful defeat; the papers crowded with dreary fune-
ral notices, showing how, to every great city of
the North, from hospital and battle-ground, the
slain are being gathered in, to be buried among
their own people; a wail of widows and orphans
and mothers, from homestead, hamlet, and town,
overpowering with its simple energy, the bom-
bastic war-notes and false stage-thunder of the
press; rumors of a terrible battle in the far West,
where, after three days' hard fighting, Rosencrans
barely holds his own, and yet " there are no news!"
  It is an excellent quality in a soldier not to



15

 


BORDER AND BASTILLE.



know when he is beaten, but whether blind obsti-
nacy will succeed when it influences the rulers
and destinies of a great nation, is more than ques-
tionable. Pondering these things, I remembered
how, four thousand years ago, a stiff-necked gen-
eration were brought to their senses and on their
knees. It was on the morning after the visit of
the Dark Angel, when Egypt awoke, and found
not a house in which there was not one dead. If
such fearful waste of life goes on here, with no
decisive or final advantage on either side attained,
that ancient curse may not be long in recurring.
  I rose when the sun ought to have risen, on
the following morning, intending to admire the
famous harbor which Americans love to compare
with the Neapolitan Bay. But long before we
reached the Narrows,

       "A blinding mist came up and hid the land
         As far as eye could see."

  Very soon we were buried in fog, dense and
Cimmerian, as ever brooded over our own Thames
or the Righi panorama. More and more slowly
the paddles turned, till they stopped altogether.
It was dangerous to advance, ever so cautiously,
when the keenest sight could not pierce half a
ship's length ahead. So there we lay at anchor
for weary hours, listening to the church-bells
chiming drowsily through the heavy air, till an



1(;

 

A FOUL START.



enterprising tug ventured out for the mails, and
sent another for the relief of the passengers.
  The custom-house officers were not trouble-
some, and I was soon at the Brevoort House, the
Parisian Pylades still faithfully following my for-
tunes. I was far from entreating him to leave
me; landing utterly alone in a strange land, one
does not lightly cast aside companionship. For
reasons easily understood, I had declined to avail
myself of many proffered letters of introduction to
New Yorkers.
  That lonely feeling did not last long: the first
object which caught my eye on the steps of the
Brevoort House was an honest English face-a
face I have known, and liked right well, these
dozen years and more. There stood "the Colonel"
(any Ch. Ch. or Rifle Brigade man will recog-
nize the sobriquet), beaming upon the world in
general with the placid cheerfulness that no
changes of time or place or fortune seem able to
alter, looking just as comfortable and thoroughly
" at home " as he did, steering Horniblow to
victory at Brixworth. I had beard that my old
friend was on his way to England to join the
Staff College, but had never reckoned on such a
successful "nick" as this.  By my faith, my
turns of luck beyond the Atlantic were not so
frequent as to excuse forgetfulness, when they
did befall.
  So I had aid and abetment in performing the



17

 

is



BORDER AND BASTILLE.



little lionization which is obligatory on a visitor
to New York; for the " Colonel's " comrade, my
fellow-voyager of the Asia, came to the same
hotel.
  Assisted by the Parisian, we made trial of the
esculents peculiar to the country-gombo soup,
sweet potaitoes, terrapins, and canvas-backs-with
much solemnity and satisfaction, agreeing, that
fame had spoken truth for once, in extolling the
two  last-named delicacies.  We went to the
Opera, and there, in a brilliant salle of white
and gold, spoilt, however, by the incongruity of
bonnets mingling everywhere with full evening
toilet