The Regiment Marches on Jackson—Jefferson Davis’s House—Siege of Jackson—The Regiment Under Fire—Evacuation of the City—A Part of the City is Burnt by the Enemy—Return to Vicksburg—A Hard March—“French Joe’s” Mule—The Dead of the Regiment—Return to Cincinnati—March Over Cumberland Mountains to Knoxville, Tenn.

As soon as the siege was concluded, General Grant immediately turned his attention to General Johnston, who up to this time had held the line of the Big Black, watching for a chance to strike our besieging army. The time had now arrived for the Ninth Corps to perform its part of the work of that memorable campaign. As soon as General Johnston learned of Pemberton’s surrender, he began to fall back to Jackson, the capital of the State. The Ninth Corps under General Parke, together with General Smith’s division of the Sixteenth Corps, and General W. T. Sherman’s own corps, all under command of General Sherman, were ordered by General Grant to pursue the retreating enemy. This movement began as early as the evening of the 4th of July, but the Brigade of Colonel Christ did not commence to move till the afternoon of the 7th, the Twenty-ninth leaving camp at two o’clock in the afternoon. Toward nightfall the Big Black was reached, the men crossing the river on a floating bridge which had been constructed by the advance forces. The march was continued for into the night, no halt being made till twelve o’clock. The day had been severely hot, and a large number of the men were left beside the road, where they had fallen, stunned and bewildered, by the overpowering rays of the sun. When the night came on, it began to rain, and for a space of two hours the overcharged clouds poured torrents of water upon the soldiers, who were toiling along over the muddy roads so faint from exhaustion that they could scarcely drag one foot after the other. As soon as the halt was made, fires were kindled, and the men contrived to dry their clothing and steep a little coffee, the solace of the soldier. That was a wet and intensely uncomfortable bivouac; there was no recourse left the men but to spread their rubber blankets upon the flooded earth, and, lying down upon them, cover themselves with the half of a shelter-tent. They had barely fallen asleep when the storm broke out afresh, and the rain came down upon them in great sheets. Sleep was wholly banished, and huddling around the smouldering fires, the “poor boys” thus passed the balance of that gloomy night. The day which followed this was also very hot, and the officers having learned that the troops could not endure the sun, wisely concluded to allow them to remain quiet till near nightfall. At four o’clock, P. M., the order came to break camp, and a long march was performed, the Brigade marching till one o’clock on the morning of the 9th. On the 9th, the line was formed as early as six o’clock in the morning; but the men were not hurried through the day, being allowed to make frequent but brief halts. The troops halted at nine o’clock in the evening near the plantation of Jefferson Davis, where the regiment was ordered on guard for the remainder of the night.

A part of the regiment on this occasion was posted very near the house of Davis, and though the men were led by curiosity to visit it, yet they refrained from destroying the property of this prominent traitor, or committing any acts unbecoming a regiment of Massachusetts soldiers. As early as seven o’clock on the following morning, the men having had no sleep during the preceding night, and scarcely any for three consecutive nights, the regiment was ordered to start. At two o’clock that afternoon the rear guard of the retreating enemy was suddenly encountered, a line of battle was quickly formed, and slight skirmishing ensued; but the Twenty-ninth, though very near the front, did not become engaged. Toward evening the Confederates retreated, and our troops started in pursuit, the Brigade proceeding only about two miles, when it halted for the night on the plantation of Mr. Hardeman, on the line of the Mississippi Central Railroad.

Early the next morning, while the regiments were resting, the order was given for the Brigade to go to the front, taking position on a ridge of land upon which stood the State Lunatic Asylum, about five miles from Jackson. On the previous day, the enemy had occupied this place, but were driven from it by the First Division under General Welch. The Confederates on the 11th held another line of works a little nearer the city of Jackson, but within easy range of this ridge; the place was thickly wooded, and the Brigade lay concealed among the trees during the day, the Twenty-ninth supporting Captain Edward’s Rhode Island Battery, which did but little firing, however.

When it grew dark, shovels were called into requisition, and every man in the Brigade was set to work throwing up entrenchments, laboring till daylight the next morning; but our men were not to be allowed to enjoy the fruits of their night’s labor, for in the early morning, they were ordered out of the works, up to the extreme front, in support of our skirmish line. Fortunately they were not obliged to endure the scorching rays of the sun, but found shelter in a piece of woods; it was only a shelter from the sun, however, for the enemy, knowing our position, poured into the woods a continuous fire of shell, canister, and spherical case during the whole of the two days that the regiment was here. The other regiments in the Brigade suffered more or less loss, but the Twenty-ninth escaped without a single casualty. In addition to the storm of larger missiles, many of the musket-balls fired from the enemy’s lines found their way into the woods, and so severe was the fire, that nearly every tree along our line bore the marks of the leaden tempest. Many of our comrades had narrow escapes from death and wounds, one soldier in Company K especially, a ball passing through his tin dipper, upon which he was resting his head.

On the morning of the 11th, the Brigade was relieved and ordered to the rear, resuming its former position near the lunatic asylum; but in the afternoon of the same day it was again ordered forward, and again supported Captain Edward’s battery. Here it remained till the morning of the 16th, when an advance of the whole line was made, the Twenty-ninth passing up under a heavy fire to within forty rods of the enemy’s works, bristling with cannon, the right of the regiment going into the rifle-pits. Once in the pits, there was no such thing as leaving them while it was daylight, and here the “boys” spent the day, constantly engaged with the enemy’s sharpshooters. Though considerably exposed, there was but one casualty during the day, Private John Scully of Company A being instantly killed, the ball penetrating his brain. The regiment in this position held the extreme left of the picket line of our army, its right resting in the rifle-pits, and its left in dense woods, retired so as to form nearly a half-circle.

The night of the 16th was dark, and hence favorable for secret movements by both besiegers and besieged. About nine o’clock, unusual noises were heard within the enemy’s lines, resembling the rattling of wheels. Colonel Barnes became anxious to learn the cause of these noises, and Captain Clarke was requested to use every effort to ascertain what, if any, movement was going on in the enemy’s camp. That officer had no difficulty in carrying out his instructions, for one of his men, a fearless soldier, named David Scully, unhesitatingly consented to undertake the perilous task of approaching the hostile picket line. The ground descended quite rapidly from Clarke’s line towards that of the Confederates. Scully was left to execute his adventure in his own way. Prostrating himself upon the ground, he rolled slowly down the hill, till he approached within a few yards of the enemy’s pickets, and then pausing, overheard their conversation, which was to the effect that their army was retreating, and that they were soon to be relieved. Listening here, Scully heard more distinctly than before, the noises in the enemy’s camp. They were evidently removing their guns from the works; and, beside this, the regular tread of marching men was plainly distinguishable. In due time Scully returned, making this report. About this time, a similar report was brought in by Charles Logue of Company F, who went forward into the woods, very near the enemy, exhibiting great courage. In order to verify the statements of Scully and Logue, Colonel Barnes, with one or more of the captains, advanced some distance beyond our picket line, when they soon became convinced that the whole body of the enemy was moving. Thereupon one of the sergeants was despatched to General Ferrero, who was in command of the trenches, with information that the enemy was moving in large numbers, and shortly after a lieutenant was sent, with the message that the enemy was abandoning his works and retiring from the city.

The night was intensely dark, and the ground over which these officers were obliged to pass, in delivering their messages, beset with difficulties, being broken, and in some places covered with fallen timber and a thick growth of bushes. But, like faithful soldiers, they persevered till they found General Ferrero, when they delivered their messages. The substance of the reply that was sent back was, “The movements of the enemy are well understood at headquarters. The enemy are not retiring.” The rumbling of the enemy’s trains and the neighing of their horses continued; and the Colonel and his comrades stood at their posts all night, listening to these sounds, which grew fainter and more distant every hour, as the Confederates were slipping out of the grasp of General Sherman, and retiring beyond the Pearl River. When the night was almost gone, a message was received from General Ferrero, that the regiment might move forward in the gray of the morning, if Colonel Barnes thought it advisable.

When the morning came, a flag of truce was seen waving from the enemy’s works, and at the same time the city appeared to be in flames. During the night, General Johnston retired with his whole army, artillery, and baggage, and even the large guns upon his works. As soon as it was fairly day, the whole line was ordered forward, and the regiment entered the city. The works were found to be deserted, and the railroad depot and several public buildings in flames; but the fire was quickly extinguished by our troops, and thus a large portion of the city was doubtless saved from destruction. After the regiment had finished its part of the generous work of subduing the flames, the men were dismissed for a couple of hours, during which time they contrived to “do” Jackson quite thoroughly. The gardens were filled with melons and fruits, but of other and more desirable food there was a small supply. Everything of much value had been removed, and many of the deluded inhabitants had followed in the steps of the retreating army, taking with them their personal effects, thus giving the place the appearance of a deserted town. The negroes had the good sense to stay, and, as was invariably the case, they were overjoyed at the appearance of the Union soldiers, testifying to their happiness in the way peculiar to their race.

In the afternoon of the 17th, the regiment had orders to leave the city, marching back to the ground occupied on the 14th. Here it remained, enjoying much-needed rest, till Monday the 20th. Another severe march was before them, a march needlessly hard; and at an unreasonable hour in the morning of the 20th, the reveille aroused the men from their slumbers.

Before the movement began, an order was issued from headquarters, detailing Colonel Barnes Provost Marshal of the corps, and the whole of the regiment as provost guard, with orders to move in the rear of the corps, and to keep everything—men, horses, and wagons—in front. This was the hardest duty the regiment ever performed in the same number of days. For some reason, the march was a forced one; the weather was of the same tropical character that it had been during the three weeks previous, and water not only scarce, but of poor quality. The story among the men was, that the corps was racing with another, the Sixteenth (?); but the more probable statement is, that the corps reaching Vicksburg first would take the transports to go North, there being only a sufficient number of steamers for the transportation of a single corps. The imperative orders given to Colonel Barnes to prevent straggling, required constant watchfulness and almost superhuman efforts, not only on his part, but on the part of his brother officers and the men. Many soldiers gave out, from the combined effects of over-exertion and the enervating influence of the weather. On the second day out, matters in this respect became so bad, that it became necessary to impress into the service, ox-carts, horses, and vehicles of all descriptions which could be found about the country, and use them for the conveyance of the invalids, many of whom had received fatal sunstrokes. The spectacle which the corps presented on the road was wholly unbecoming a victorious army: nearly every regiment had lost even the semblance of an organized body; everybody was straggling along the roads, some riding in carts, and others mounted upon horses and mules, while miles in the rear of this mob was the gallant old Twenty-ninth Regiment, driving the crowd before them. Violent menaces, and sometimes absolute force, were required to keep the stragglers in motion.

For want of ambulances, nearly all the wounded in the battles and skirmishes before Jackson were carried the whole distance from the latter city to Vicksburg on litters or stretchers by details of men. To protect these unfortunate soldiers from the sun, hoods made of pieces of tent cloth were placed about their heads, and green boughs arranged at the sides of the litters.

A large number of disabled horses and mules were left about the country, in the track of Johnston’s retreat, and these were systematically gathered up by General Sherman, when he returned from Jackson, and driven along to the various landings in the vicinity of Vicksburg and Milldale, where, together with the horses and other animals captured by the soldiers on the march, they were delivered up to the quartermasters. Nearly every company of the Twenty-ninth had a large number of saddle and pack animals, which they had ridden and used for the conveyance of their baggage during the march. Company A had some twenty horses and mules, and Company G nearly as many, when they returned to Milldale, having, as they swept along the stragglers of the column, as the extreme rear guard, collected these animals, as well as the jaded and tired-out men, and their work was much lightened by these mounts. As the rear guard approached the Big Black, the soldiers on foot were sent forward into camp, and then about thirty or forty mounted men came in together, most of the latter being men who had fallen out or got foot-sore, and had been picked up and mounted to keep them along with the army.

When one of these motley crowds came in, the commander of the regiment, who was somewhat indignant at the appearance of the thing, hailed the captain in command, “I should like to know, sir, what this means; what sort of a command is this for an infantry officer?” “Irregular mounted infantry, I should think,” replied the leader, as he looked at his crew.

It was on this march that Captain Richardson’s man, nicknamed “French Joe,” came to the conclusion that his captain’s mess kit might just as well be carried by a mule as by Joseph, and, in fact, that the mule might carry “Joe” too, and took one of the mules for this purpose. He had only his belt and some old scraps of rope for a tackling; but this he thought might serve well enough. He contrived a pad out of his own and the Captain’s blankets, and, warned by the example of John Gilpin, he attempted to balance his load and to tie it securely to the sides of the mule, which were well festooned with pots, pans, gridirons, camp kettles, and tin dippers, giving the animal the appearance of the “hawker’s” donkey. After all this varied assortment of wares had been piled upon the animal, Joe kindly allowed a knapsack or two to be strapped on behind, and then mounted, guiding the mule with a rope halter. He had not proceeded far before some of the knots began to slip, for Joe was not a sailor, nor was he a very skilful disposer of weights. Very soon one of the knapsack straps got loose and insinuated itself on the inside of the mule’s hind leg. It tickled him—he kicked. This displaced a camp kettle, which slipped under his belly—he “buck-jumped,” and unseated Joe. Then all the load shifted, the most of it getting under the beast’s belly. He curveted and pranced, he reared and kicked, and cleared the road right and left for more than a mile. The men scattered on every side, for the mule was in earnest, and was no respecter of persons, kicking just as viciously at the officers as at the men. Captain Richardson had no dinner that day, save what he got through the kindness of others; for his coffee, hard bread, and bacon, tin plates and cups, flour, butter, and roasting corn—all the materials of many a savory feast—lay in the dust.

On the 22d, the Ninth Corps reached the Big Black River. General Parke and his division commanders now deemed it impossible, as it certainty was disgraceful, for the corps to continue to march in this manner. The different regiments were here, on the banks of the river, gathered together, and forced to resume their organization. One whole day was spent in this work, during which the men were permitted to rest.

Toward evening of the 22d, the corps moved out of camp, and marching slowly, crossed the Big Black on a pontoon bridge, in the midst of a pouring rain; the troops camped near the river for the night, and the next morning started for Milldale. The regiment was the last to arrive, in consequence of its peculiar duty, and by being the last, lost the first chance to go on board the transports, and was thus forced to remain here till the 12th of August.

During the campaign now closed, the roll of the regiment’s dead had been somewhat increased; and this, with a few exceptions, had been occasioned by disease contracted in the sickly regions of the Yazoo and Vicksburg. Private John Scully of Company A, a faithful soldier, was the first to fall in the campaign, having been killed by a bullet while bravely doing his duty in the rifle-pits before Jackson, July 16. Second Lieutenant Horace A. Jenks of Company E came next, dying of malarial fever, July 26. Lieutenant Jenks had at one time been a sergeant in his company, and was promoted to be second lieutenant for his good soldierly qualities. His death was mourned by all the members of the regiment. First Lieutenant Ezra Ripley of Company B, who died of fever at Helena, Ark., July 28, was a member of the Middlesex Bar before entering the service. He was a gentleman of liberal culture and rarest qualities of both heart and mind. No sacrifice for his country was too great in his estimation, and though not of a robust constitution, yet he never shrank from any exposure or hardship. He performed the terrible march to Jackson, but the seeds of disease sown during those days, already described, soon ripened into death. Private Lyford Gilman of Company B also died of disease at Vicksburg, August 2. He was also a victim of the exhaustive march.

When the Ninth Corps was about to leave Vicksburg, General Grant, desirous of recognizing its services in the late campaign, issued the following order:—

“Headquarters Department of the Tennessee, } “Vicksburg, Miss., July 31, 1863. }

[EXTRACT.]

“Special Orders, No. 207.

“In returning the Ninth Corps to its former command, it is with pleasure that the general commanding acknowledges its valuable services in the campaign just closed.

“Arriving at Vicksburg opportunely, taking position to hold at bay Johnston’s army, then threatening the forces investing the city, it was ready and eager to assume the aggressive at any moment.

“After the fall of Vicksburg, it formed a part of the army which drove Johnston from his position near the Big Black River, into his entrenchments at Jackson, and after a siege of eight days, compelled him to fly in disorder from the Mississippi Valley.

“The endurance, valor, and general good conduct of the Ninth Corps are admired by all; and its valuable co-operation in achieving the final triumph of the campaign is gratefully acknowledged by the Army of the Tennessee.

“Major-General Parke will cause the different regiments and batteries of his command to inscribe upon their banners and guidons, ‘Vicksburg’ and ‘Jackson.’

“By order of “Major-General U. S. Grant.

“P. S. Bowen, A. A. A. G.”

The time spent at Milldale, after the return from Jackson, was occupied by the ordinary duties of camp life. The weather continued very warm, and the destructive effects of the campaign now became manifest. Deaths were very frequent among the troops here during this time, burial parties were almost constantly engaged, and the funeral notes of the fife and drum could be heard nearly every hour in the day. None save the strongest came out of that campaign in sound health.

On the 12th of August, the regiment embarked on the steamer “Catahoula,” one of the slowest boats on the river, to go North; the steamer left Milldale without a sufficient supply of fuel, and accordingly frequent stoppages on the route, to gather wood, became necessary. The trip to Cairo, including one day spent at Memphis, occupied eight days, the boat reaching its destination on the 20th.

At midnight on the 20th, the regiment took the cars for Cincinnati, reaching that city on the afternoon of Sunday the 23d, and receiving the same kind treatment as on its two former visits.

At night, the regiment left the city, crossed the Ohio to Covington, Ky., and went into camp on the outskirts of the town, and remained here till the 27th. At this time, probably nearly half of all the members of the regiment were on the sick-list, and unable to do duty. In the course of a few days they had come from the tropical climate of the South into the cool bracing air of the West, and now the chills and fever broke out among them to an alarming extent.

While here, Colonel Barnes left the regiment on a furlough to his home in Massachusetts; he was very sick from the effects of a malarial fever and overwork; from the eighteenth day of May, 1861, till he was seized with this sickness, he had never been off duty, for any cause, a day,—a fact that is not only remarkable, but, considering the great hardships to which he had been subjected, one that shows him to have been possessed of an iron constitution.

The author, in the preparation of this work, has endeavored, as far as possible, to avoid the diary form of narrative, because he is aware that such does not interest the general reader; but the record of the regiment would be incomplete if it did not give somewhat in detail the events of long and memorable marches, and the various localities visited by it.

The march from Covington, Ky., into East Tennessee, which we are about to describe, was one of the longest which the regiment ever performed, and, for the reasons stated, we shall give a very particular account of it. On the 27th, it broke camp, under the command of Major Chipman, went to the railroad station in Covington, took the cars for Nicholasville, arrived there at seven o’clock the next morning, and camped near the depot. On the 29th, Colonel Pierce, who had for several months been absent on special duty in Massachusetts, joined the regiment and assumed command, and on the same day a march on the Lancaster pike of about four miles was performed.

August 31. The regiment was mustered for pay; Colonel Pierce ordered to the command of the Brigade; the Second Michigan Infantry joined the Brigade, and Major Chipman again took command of the regiment.

September 1. Reveille at four o’clock, A. M. Started for Crab Orchard, in Lincoln County; spent the night for the third time at Camp Dick Robinson.

September 2. Reveille at an early hour; marched all day; camped near Lancaster.

September 3. Another early start. Reached Crab Orchard, a place of five hundred inhabitants, and abounding with mineral springs. Here and at Nicholasville convalescent camps were established, and during the time which the regiment remained at these places, a very large number of its members went into the hospitals, where not a few of them subsequently died.

September 10. The Brigade left Crab Orchard, and had a hard march of about fourteen miles, and went into camp at a place called Mount Vernon. The road for a considerable portion of the way was very rough and mountainous, being so steep in some places that the horsemen were obliged to dismount and lead their animals. The men were in light marching order, having left the most of their extra clothing at Crab Orchard, and had eight days’ rations served out to them, being thus prepared for a long march.

September 11. The reveille sounded at half-past three o’clock in the morning, and at half-past four the column was in motion. At night, after a very fatiguing march, the camp was formed near Wild Cat Mountain, Kentucky.

September 12. The men were routed out early in the morning, and the day’s march began at five o’clock, but the road was good all day. The weather, which had been fine ever since the march began, became stormy at the end of this day, and at night it rained hard. The camp was formed at London, Laurel County, Ky. On this march the regiment passed over the battle-field of Mill Spring, where the notorious Zollicoffer was killed.

September 13 was Sunday. The men were paid off and allowed to rest all day. Since this famous march began, the Brigade had passed through and into three counties; namely, Gerrard, Rock Castle, and Laurel. The country through which they had travelled was thinly populated, and with the exception of a few wild fruits and nuts which they found on the journey, the men were obliged to subsist upon their rations. It has been stated, that the wild fruits which the men ate on this march proved very beneficial to their health, and resulted in curing them of the complaints they had contracted in the sickly swamps of the Yazoo.

September 14. The march was resumed at five o’clock in the morning, and at night a halt was made at Laurel Spring.

September 15. Only a part of the day was occupied by marching, a halt being made at the town of Barboursville, in Knox County, Ky.

September 16. Marched from Barboursville to Flat Lick; a long march, pausing till the 19th.

September 19. A distance of about ten miles was travelled this day; the camp was formed at Log Mountain. The column was nearing the far-famed Cumberland Gap, and the roads were growing rougher and more broken at every advance in that direction. The night was very cold, water froze, and the crops of tobacco, sugar-cane, and cotton in that region nearly all destroyed. When the sun rose the next morning, it revealed the earth white with frost.

September 20. At ten o’clock in the morning, the Brigade reached Cumberland Gap, and entered the State of Tennessee. After passing into this gap, which was defended by a small force of infantry and cavalry, the road became more and more elevated, till at last it reached the summits of the mountains. The view from these heights well paid the men for all their toil in climbing their rugged and broken sides. In the far distance, ridge after ridge seemed to rise up toward the heavens, the highest actually invading the clouds, which, with a beautiful curtain of blue, hid from sight the lofty peaks. The night was spent in the mountains near the gap.

September 21. Sycamore, Tenn. Camped for the night. An inquiry having been made at one of the mountain huts, regarding the distance between this place and Tazewell, the answer was, “Two rises to go up and two rises to go down and a right smart plain.”

September 22. Morristown, Tenn. Here the Brigade remained till the 24th.

September 24. Marched to New Market.

September 25. Marched to Holston River and forded it.

September 26. Entered the city of Knoxville.

The distance marched between the first of September and 26th was something over two hundred miles. The march over the mountains has furnished the theme of many interesting conversations among the men who performed it. The hardships of the road were manifold and serious. It was enough to be compelled to climb day after day the rugged and precipitous path along the side of these mountains; it was enough, indeed, to bivouac on their cold and barren summits, with only a single woollen blanket to protect the foot-sore soldier from the searching and chilling night-air; but when we add to these discomforts, that of intense and unsatisfied hunger, which was actually endured during the entire march, the measure of the sufferings of our comrades seems full to overflowing. They endured these sufferings and hardships, however, for a good purpose. Together with the troops which had gone on before them, they had wrought the long-prayed-for deliverance of East Tennessee. On the 3d of this month, General Burnside, together with the Twenty-third Corps and other troops, had entered the city of Knoxville, the Confederate General Buckner retiring from the place with his army and retreating toward Chattanooga.

The people of this region had long suffered from rebel rule, and the barbarities which had been practised upon them have never been fully related to the world. Some had been imprisoned, others tortured, and others murdered. Their property had been mercilessly confiscated, and not a few had been forced to perform military duty in the service of a cause that they loathed and hated. When the army of General Burnside appeared bearing the old flag, and the colors of the cruel foe departed in haste and confusion, the loyal people were overwhelmed with joy. The flag of the Union, which had been carefully hid under carpets, concealed in cellars and between mattresses, to save its owners from persecution, was now brought forth from its hiding-places, and flaunted on every hand; from windows and liberty-poles, it floated to the breeze.

A considerable part of General Burnside’s army was composed of loyal Tennesseeans, who had been forced to fly into Kentucky during the continuance of the enemy’s rule. These native troops, among which was the cavalry under Lieutenant-Colonel Brownlow, son of the famous parson, “were kept constantly in advance, and were received with expressions of the profoundest gratitude by the people. There were many thrilling scenes of the meeting of our Tennessee soldiers with their families, from whom they had so long been separated. The East Tennesseeans were so glad to see our soldiers, that they cooked everything they had and gave it to them freely, not asking pay, and apparently not thinking of it. Women stood by the roadside with pails of water, and displayed Union flags. The wonder was, where all the stars and stripes came from. Knoxville was radiant with flags. At one point on the road from Kingston to Knoxville seventy women and girls stood by the roadside waving Union flags and shouting, ‘Hurrah for the Union.’ Old ladies rushed out of their houses and wanted to see General Burnside and shake hands with him, and cried, ‘Welcome, General Burnside, to East Tennessee.’”41

These constitute but a small part of all the demonstrations of loyalty by this intensely loyal people, and this brief account of their wrongs but a trifling part of the manifold abuses heaped upon them by a merciless and savage soldiery,—abuses and wrongs of the same barbarous nature as those perpetrated at Andersonville and Belle Isle, forming as they do the saddest chapter in the history of the war. It should be among the proudest boasts of the people of Massachusetts, that in the persons of her soldiers of the Twenty-first, Twenty-ninth, Thirty-fifth, and Thirty-sixth regiments, she helped deliver a people loyal to the old flag from a thraldom such as has been imperfectly depicted in this chapter,—a thraldom worse than death itself.