ladies, not wishing to be deemed common women, ceased to offer insults, while the common women ceased, wishing to be deemed ladies.

This order excited all rebeldom. Beauregard read it to his army at Corinth. The South was aflame with anger and hatred. General Butler was called a beast and an outlaw. A reward of ten thousand dollars was offered for his head, and a gentle-hearted Southern woman offered to subscribe her mite to make the reward fifty thousand dollars, to make sure that General Butler's head should be taken.

It would not be just to dismiss the subject of the attitude of the Southern women toward the Northern forces, without saying a word in praise of the Sisters of Charity. To their good offices many a Northern soldier owed his life. To all, irrespective of allegiance, they ministered faithfully and well, knowing no North, no South, enduring many hardships with but one thought, the relief of suffering and distress. Our sick and wounded became as little children in their hands, and learned to love and reverence them.

General Butler has a firm place in the hearts of those who knew him, and the works he accomplished. He enforced order and quiet with a firm hand, indifferent to protest or opposition, effected sanitary reforms that saved our army and many lives of the people of New Orleans, added over a million dollars to the value of the city's wharves and levees, and compelled respect for the Nation's flag and her laws.

In return he was execrated throughout the Confederacy, met a storm of censure and abuse, not entirely confined to the South, was outlawed by proclamation of the rebel President, and if captured was to be immediately hanged.

During his entire stay in New Orleans it was my privilege to be in frequent personal contact with him, as a Provost Marshal for the Parishes of Orleans and Jefferson, comprising the city. Officers and men had complete confidence in him. He was an able executive, quick to decide, swift to perform. His army regretted his departure.

APRIL 2, 1902.

A FRUITLESS VICTORY.

BY AUGUSTUS M. VAN DYKE,

Late Captain and A. A. G., U. S. V.; Brevet Major, U. S. V.

During the last days of June and the first few days of July, in the year 1862, the Army of the Potomac, after seven days of exhausting, bloody and almost fruitless battle, had succeeded, through the indomitable will of its personnel, rather than by strategic skill of its commanders, in preserving its entity, and found itself in a more or less chaotic condition at Harrison's Landing, on the James River, not far from, in fact almost in sight of Richmond. Here for six weeks the army lay encamped on sandy flats, mostly exposed to the full heat of a midsummer sun, or, if protected at all, only by the sparse second growth of pines and scrub oak, which seem to be indigenous to abandoned tobacco lands. The mortality from disease during this time was something frightful. Exhausted by long day and night marching, and almost daily battle, the rank, file and line seemed to have settled down to indolent indifference. The only activity, perhaps, was on the part of its commander, and that was in the direction of constant repeated demands for supplies and re-enforcements.

In the meantime the enemy was busy in the business of war, and about the 12th of August disquieting rumors began to be heard, and a circular was sent out to Corps Commanders, indicating an important movement of some sort. On the 14th a general order was issued, setting forth the plan and order of march, and on the 16th the rear guard of the

Army of the Potomac began its march about noon, and crossed the Chickahominy about midnight. For at least twenty-four, possibly forty-eight hours preceding, the road had been traveled by a double, sometimes a triple column of foot, horse and artillery, or wagon trains. The horrors of such a march may be conceived, not described.

It seems from the correspondence between War Department officials that this movement should have been begun ten days or two weeks sooner, but the usual timidity, uncertainty and procrastination had prevailed. On the 20th of August the General-in-Chief writes to the Commander of the Army of the Potomac: "You can scarcely imagine the anxiety * I have had in regard to your movements. * * I felt that the safety of Washington depended on the prompt and rapid transfer of your army. * I did feel that you

did not act as promptly as circumstances required. * deemed every hour a golden one.

* *

I

* I think you did not attach so much value to passing hours. * Every moment seems as important to me as an ordinary hour." And yet, as late as August 25th, the headquarters of the Army of the Potomac were at Ft. Monroe, and a considerable part of its available force. In the meantime, as early as August 14th, General Lee had begun the rapid transfer of his army from Richmond to the Rapidan, to the Rappahannock, to the Potomac, with Washington as the object. It is not in the purview of this paper to more than mention the disaster to our arms at Second Bull Run, nor to consider the bitter controversy that has been carried on in regard to it. At any rate, the result destroyed, as it were, one noble gentleman, and in the estimation of many has damned one other man to

at least temporary infamy. The truth of history can be found only by those who hereafter are removed a hundred years from the action of these times.

From the chaotic confusion and seeming demoralization of this defeat the Army of the Potomac soon rallied. It was an army often beaten, but never conquered; no, not even whipped. It seemed to rise from its dead ashes of defeat to better deeds. Within a short time it was again as compact, well ordered, and ready a body of men as ever marched to battle. Interposing itself between the victorious legions of Lee and the capital, it not only stopped their advance, but compelled their commander to turn his face to the rear and to seek again the protection of the fastnesses of his Virginia mountains and forests. The old commander, having been temporarily relieved, was again placed in command, and that loyalty with which the Army of the Potomac always served its commander, whoever he may have been, broke forth in prolonged cheers, as, at the head of his magnificent staff and escort, he rode forward toward the head of the column on the march, and the writer's ready cap went high in the air as that of any one.

So, following the retreating army of General Lee, he was forced to make a stand upon the southern and eastern slope of South Mountain. On the evening of that day, as the writer remembers it, a wonderfully clear and beautiful day, the rear of the column came to the brow of a hill, semi-circular almost, that dipped down into the valley at the base of the mountain, the plain at the base being probably from two to three miles in width. The sun just sinking behind, threw the eastern slope of the mountain into a deep shadow. The air was clear as