re
divided upon the question of Union and secession. Our generals were
scrambling for "_Who ranked_." The private soldier fought and starved
and died for naught. Our hospitals were crowded with sick and wounded,
but half provided with food and clothing to sustain life. Our money was
depreciated to naught and our cause lost. We left our homes four years
previous. Amid the waving of flags and handkerchiefs and the smiles of
the ladies, while the fife and drum were playing Dixie and the Bonnie
Blue Flag, we bid farewell to home and friends. The bones of our brave
Southern boys lie scattered over our loved South. They fought for their
"_country_," and gave their lives freely for that country's cause:
and now they who survive sit, like Marius amid the wreck of Carthage,
sublime even in ruins. Other pens abler than mine will have to chronicle
their glorious deeds of valor and devotion. In these sketches I have
named but a few persons who fought side by side with me during that long
and unholy war. In looking back over these pages, I ask, Where now are
many whose names have appeared in these sketches? They are up yonder,
and are no doubt waiting and watching for those of us who are left
behind. And, my kind reader, the time is coming when we, too, will be
called, while the archangel of death is beating the long roll of eternity,
and with us it will be the last reveille. God Himself will sound the
"assembly" on yonder beautiful and happy shore, where we will again have
a grand "reconfederation." We shed a tear over their flower-strewn
graves. We live after them. We love their memory yet. But one
generation passes away and another generation follows. We know our loved
and brave soldiers. We love them yet.

But when we pass away, the impartial historian will render a true verdict,
and a history will then be written in justification and vindication of
those brave and noble boys who gave their all in fighting the battles of
their homes, their country, and their God.

"The United States has no North, no South, no East, no West." "_We are
one and undivided_."

ADIEU

My kind friends--soldiers, comrades, brothers, all: The curtain is rung
down, the footlights are put out, the audience has all left and gone
home, the seats are vacant, and the cold walls are silent. The gaudy
tinsel that appears before the footlights is exchanged for the dress of
the citizen. Coming generations and historians will be the cri