am and Gettysburg, were not properly and
energetically followed up as they should have been, and hence were
largely barren of adequate results. Considering these things, I have
always somehow "felt it in my bones" that if Mr. Lincoln had not sent
the brief telegram above mentioned, I would now be sleeping in some
(probably) unmarked and unknown grave away back in old Virginia.

While at Jackson an incident occurred while I was on picket in which
Owen McGrath, the big Irishman I have previously mentioned, played an
interesting part. As corporal I had three men under me, McGrath being
one, and the others were a couple of big, burly young fellows belonging
to Co. A. Our post was on the railroad a mile or two from the outskirts
of Jackson, and where the picket line for some distance ran practically
parallel with the railroad. The spot at this post where the picket
stood when on guard was at the top of a bank on the summit of a slight
elevation, just at the edge of a deep and narrow railroad cut. A bunch
of guerrillas had recently been operating in that locality, and making
mischief on a small scale, and our orders were to be vigilant and on
the alert, especially at night. McGrath was on duty from 6 to 8 in the
evening, and at the latter hour I notified one of the Co. A men that
his turn had come. The weather was bad, a high wind was blowing,
accompanied by a drizzling rain, and all signs portended a stormy
night. The Co. A fellow buckled on his cartridge box, picked up his
musket, and gave a scowling glance at the surroundings. Then, with much
profanity, he declared that he wasn't going to stand up on that bank,
he was going down into the cut, where he could have some shelter from
the wind and rain. I told him that would never do, that there he could
see nothing in our front, and might as well not be on guard at all. But
he loudly announced his intention to stick to his purpose. The other
Co. A man chimed in, and with many expletives declared that Bill was
right, that he intended to stand in the cut too when his time came,
that he didn't believe there was a Secesh within a hundred miles of us,
anyway, and so on. I was sorely troubled, and didn't know what to do.
They were big, hulking fellows, and either could have just smashed me,
with one hand tied behind him. McGrath had been intently listening to
the conversation, and saying nothing, but, as matters were evidently
nearing a crisis, he now took a hand. Walking up to the m