almost as level as a floor. West Point was on the other side of the stream; but as the rebels were in that vicinity, and had destroyed all the bridges, and as we had perfect command of the river through our transports and gunboats, it was deemed best to land the army on the southern shore. West Point was connected with Richmond by a railroad, which ran along the northern banks of the Pamunkey, and crossed the stream about fourteen miles from its mouth, at a place called White House. There was on the plantation a fine mansion, with numerous barns, negro huts, and other out-buildings. This beautiful plain was surrounded on three sides by dense woods, the fourth side resting on the river.

Immediately upon the landing of the troops, the gunboats took possession of West Point, and the Stars and Stripes were unfurled over the deserted buildings. Not a single white man was left in the place. Pickets were stationed in the edge of the surrounding woods, and the white tents of the soldiers were spread over the plain. As yet, there were no signs whatever of the presence of any enemy. A few light-draught gunboats were sent on a reconnoissance up both the Pamunkey and the Mattapony, and though they shelled the banks on both sides of the stream, they could find no traces of the foe. During the night, however, one of our advance vedettes, stationed in the woods, was shot by some of the rebel pickets who were lurking in ambush.

Early in the morning the gunboats discovered, a few miles up the Pamunkey, several regiments of the rebels, and promptly dispersed them by a few shells. In the mean time General Slocum and General Dana, with great energy, pushed forward the disembarkation of the troops, with the guns and the horses. The appearance of rebel scouts here and there, indicated that there was a pretty large rebel force concealed in the vicinity. Accordingly five regiments, the Sixteenth, Thirty-first, and Thirty-second New York, and the Ninety-fifth and Ninety-sixth Pennsylvania, were pushed forward into the woods. Suddenly they were assailed by a volley of musketry from a numerous body of rebels, hidden, Indian fashion, in the dense underbrush. The volley was promptly returned by the patriots, when the rebels sprang to their feet and fled, almost instantly disappearing in the depths of the forest.

The National troops were soon widely scattered in the pursuit. Parties of the foe were encountered here and there, and a desultory battle ensued from behind stumps and trees, the forest echoing for miles with the incessant report of the rifle. For three hours this singular battle raged, without any very serious loss on either side, though some scores of men, in all, were killed or wounded. At length it became evident that the enemy were increasing in number. Behind every tree there was a concealed rebel marksman. The National troops, who had been lured on thus far, in straggling order, found that they were being quite outnumbered. The infantry were accordingly directed to fall back, and three batteries of artillery were brought forward.

These batteries-Porter's First Massachusetts, Platt's United States, and Hexamer's New Jersey-were admirably manned, and sent their shells shrieking into the forest at the rate of ten a minute. They were supported

by the Eighteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts and the Sixteenth New York Regiments of infantry. The rebels could not stand this deadly fire, and fled precipitately. In their flight they took a direction toward the river. There the gunboats opened upon them, when they again turned and were soon out of sight.

For a moment the rebels made an attempt to bring one of their batteries into position; but the First New Jersey Regiment charged upon them at the double-quick, with a cheer which made the forest ring, and the foe, desperate men as they were, were compelled to retire. Our exultant troops plunged after them. Conspicuous in the pursuit was the Fifth Regiment of Maine boys. These hardy young men, in the brilliant daring with which they chased the foe, won the admiration of the whole army. The gunboats continued, while slowly ascending the river, to throw their shells into the forest, wherever an enemy might be concealed. Our loss in this conflict was ten killed and forty-nine wounded. That of the enemy is not known.

Though the patriots were left undisputed victors in possession of the field, General Franklin adopted vigorous precautions to prevent surprise during the night, as it was known that the enemy, in overwhelming numbers, could not be far distant. The battery horses were kept in harness, and the men were all ready for instant summons to the ranks. But the enemy had been too severely punished to attempt to strike another blow. Availing themselves of the darkness, before the dawn they had put a safe distance between themselves and Franklin's division.

During this singular forest conflict there were many scenes of wild adventure and of hair-breadth escape, which would embellish the pages of the most romantic tales of chivalry. In the ardor and recklessness of the pursuit, Captain Montgomery, of General Newton's staff, and Lieutenant Baker, of General Franklin's staff, ventured too far into the woods. It was about one o'clock at noon. They were both on horseback. Hearing some voices proceeding from a jungle of very dense underbrush, and knowing that the National troops were in that direction, they supposed that one of our regiments was there. They rode directly into tho thicket and found a mass of men, clustered like bees behind trees, bushes, stumps, and stones. In the confusion of the scene, they were not at first particularly noticed, there being nothing in their dress or appearance to distinguish them.

But they instantly saw, to their dismay, that they were in the midst of the Hampton Legion, from South Carolina. Instinctively conscious that nothing but the most imperturbable coolness and audacity could save them, Captain Montgomery, assuming the most familiar air, shouted out, "Now, boys, the General expects you all to do your duty to-day." He was just turning his horse slowly, to lull suspicion, congratulating himself upon his probably successful escape, when some one, seeing U. 3. upon his cap, cried out, with an oath, that he was a Yankee. Both of the patriot. officers plunged their spurs into their horses, while, at the same moment, a score of musket-balls whistled around them. Lieutenant Baker almost miraculously escaped unharmed. Half a dozen bullets pierced the horse

of Captain Montgomery, and the steed fell dead to the ground. Fortunately, the rider was uninjured, yet, conscious of the barbarism of the foe, he feigned death.

The ruffians gathered around him with imprecations. He remained for several minutes as motionless as a corpse, with his head half buried in a ditch. The rebels, in the mean time, rifled his pockets and plundered his clothing, and honored him with sundry epithets which were any thing but complimentary-in palpable violation of the time-honored maxim, Nil de mortuis nisi bonum, Speak nothing but good of the dead. In the midst of this scene the captain, feigning the gradual return to consciousness, slowly rose to his feet, exclaiming, "I surrender myself a prisoner of war." Even these half-civilized men-for the majority of the whites at the South, "mean whites," are not more than half civilized-hesitated to kill a defenceless man in cold blood. Though they heaped upon him unmeasured abuse, and several demanded that he should be shot, they did not proceed to actual violence. As they were assailing him with curses and threatenings, Captain Montgomery said calmly-

"I have surrendered as a prisoner of war. I demand to be treated as such. At the North we treat dogs better than you treat men. Now lead me to your commanding officer."

A large group of rebel soldiers was by this time collected, and new volleys of abuse were bursting from their lips, when a shell from one of our gunboats dropped in the midst of them, and exploded. A fragment of the shell grazed the nose of Captain Montgomery, taking off the skin. The group was instantly scattered, the rebels rushing in one direction, the heroic Yankee in another. He soon reached his friends, mounted another horse, and reported himself as ready for duty.

The following extracts from a letter by a young lady, a niece of Jefferson Davis, and who was residing in his family, shows the panic then existing in Richmond. The authenticity of this letter has never been called in question.

"When I think of the dark gloom which now hovers over our country, I am ready to sink in despair. General Johnston is falling back from the Peninsula, or Yorktown, and Uncle Jeff. thinks we had better go to a safer place than Richmond. We have not decided yet where we shall go, but I think to North Carolina, to some far-off country town, or perhaps to South Carolina. If Johnston falls back as far as Richmond, all our troops will also fall back to this place, and make one desperate stand against General McClellan. O God! defend this people with thy powerful arm, is my constant prayer. O mother! Uncle Jeff. is miserable. He tries to be cheerful, and bear up against such a continuation of troubles, but oh! I fear that he cannot live long if he does not get some rest and quiet. Our reverses distress him so much, and he is so weak and feeble, it makes my heart ache to look at him. He knows that he ought to send his wife and children away, and yet he cannot bear to part with them, and we all dread to part with him, too. Varina and I had a hard cry about it to-day. Ch, what a blow the fall of New Orleans was! It liked to have set us all crazy here. Everybody looks depressed, and the cause of the

Confederacy looks drooping and sinking; but if God is with us, who can be against us?

"P. S. We all leave here, to-morrow morning, for Raleigh. Three gunboats are in James River, on their way to the city, and may, probably, reach here in a few hours; so we have no longer any time to delay. I only hope that we have not delayed too long already. I am afraid that Richmond will fall into the hands of the enemy, as there is no way to keep back the gunboats. James River is so high that all obstructions are in danger of being washed away; so there is no help for the city."

CHAPTER V.

THE ADVANCE TO THE CHICKAHOMINY.

(From May 9th to June 1st, 1862.)

SCENE AT WEST POINT.-MARCH ON THE PAMUNKEY.—ASPECT OF THE COUNTRY.-Scrupulous REGARD FOR PRIVATE PROPERTY.-ARRIVAL AT THE WHITE HOUSE.-RETREAT AND CONCENTRATION OF THE REBELS.-EXPOSURE OF WASHINGTON.-CAPTURE OF NORFOLK.-DESTRUCTION OF THE MERRIMAC.-ENCAMPMENT ON THE CHICKAHOMINY.

Ox Friday, the 9th of May, 1862, five days after the battle of Williamsburg, General McClellan's army arrived at West Point, and effected a junction with Franklin's division. The distance traversed was about twenty miles. The picturesque and animated spectacle presented at this point cannot be described or imagined. The placid waters of the York River, expanding into a wide bay where the floods of the Mattapony and the Pamunkey meet, exhibited a forest of transport ships, most of them steamers, with their trailing banners of black smoke. They were incessantly coming and going, and moving in all directions. Wharves were improvised. Thousands of active men, with songs and laughter, were disembarking their stores. The ring of the woodman's axe was heard everywhere in the forest, as trees were felled, and roads were constructed, for the passage of thousands of teams from the banks to the encampment. A canvas city for a hundred thousand inhabitants rose as by magic. Squadrons of horsemen swept the plain. Wagons and artillery trains were too numerous to be counted. Polished armor gleamed in the rays of the setting sun, and silken banners waved in the evening breeze, while exultant music filled the air from scores of military bands.

Slowly and cautiously the army continued its march along the south banks of the Pamunkey, accompanied by the immense flotilla of gunboats and barges, with all needful stores. Probably, never before, in the history of the world, was an army so liberally supplied. About twelve miles from West Point, at a place called White House, the railroad from West Point to Richmond crossed the Pamunkey. It was consequently intended to make White House the base of future operations, and the station for our military supplies. The march over these twelve miles, with all our baggage transported by water, and during which we encountered no enemy and no obstacle, occupied seven days-from the 9th to the 16th of May.

The Pamunkey is here a fine stream, winding through a splendid country, then fragrant with the bloom of flowers and arrayed in the luxuriant beauty of early spring. Green meadows were fringed by wooded hills, and the whole landscape presented an aspect of picturesque beauty