Movements After the Siege—The Regiment Leaves Knoxville—The Condition of the Troops—Blaine’s Cross-Roads—The Men Re-enlist—Strawberry Plain—Fight with the Confederate Cavalry—The Regiment Goes to Knoxville—Erin Station—The Corn Expedition—Transfer of Non-re-enlisting Men to the Thirty-sixth Massachusetts Regiment—Long Marches—The Snow-storm—Ordered Home—March Over the Cumberland Mountains—The Regiment Reaches Boston—The Receptions.

Early in the morning of the 7th of December, the Brigade started with other troops of the Ninth Corps in the direction of Morristown, in pursuit of the retreating enemy.

As showing the decimation which disease and suffering had wrought in the ranks of the regiment, one of its companies was able to muster that morning but one commissioned officer, one sergeant, one corporal, and three privates. Nearly one-quarter of the Ninth Corps remained in Knoxville for these and equally good reasons. There were over a thousand men of the First Division in camp there, who had done duty through the siege, but who could not march at this time because of their sick and enfeebled condition and lack of suitable clothing. All who were not absolutely sick and destitute were put in readiness for active duty in the course of ten days, and sent to their regiments. In order to fit out these men, the sutlers’ shops and stores of the town were ransacked for clothing, blankets, etc. If boots and shoes could not be found at the commissary department, or furnished by it, the men purchased them with their own money, and set out for the front; and when these articles could not be bought, the old shoes were tapped in camp with leather or raw-hide; and when the latter resource failed, as it often did, raw-hide moccasins were cobbled up. Coats and trousers were patched with old blankets or the capes of overcoats; coverlids and bed-quilts were bought of the inhabitants of Knoxville, and issued to those who were destitute of blankets. This was the motley character of the outfit of the large majority of the soldiers who took part in that distressing winter campaign of which we are about to speak. On the 8th of December, the regiment reached a place called Blaine’s Cross-Roads, where it remained only one day. On the next day it marched to Rutledge, pausing here till the 15th; on the latter day returning to Blaine’s Cross-Roads.

Before entering upon a description of the life passed in this memorable camp, it seems proper to speak of some of the special duties performed by the soldiers in this department, and especially by the members of the regiment. Nearly every man in Company K of East Boston, and many members of other companies, were handy with tools. The East Boston men were acquainted with calking and graving and ship-carpentry; and the engineer officers of the corps were not slow in finding it out. Since our army had entered East Tennessee, a large portion of its pontoon train had been destroyed. The army was now operating in a country full of rivers, and at this, the rainy season, few could be forded: railroad bridges had been destroyed by both armies, and to enable the army to move, these must be rebuilt; no flour or meal could be found in the country except what the army could grind in the mills from wheat and corn foraged. Many of these mills had been broken down, and it was necessary to repair them. Skilful mechanics were hence in great demand, and as the wants of the army grew more pressing, the soldier who could repair a mill or build a boat came to be more esteemed than a major-general. As we have stated, the Twenty-ninth was very fortunate in having a large number of mechanics in its ranks, and consequently many details were made from it for these purposes. At one time nearly a whole company was engaged in building pontoon boats. The men felled the large trees, cut them into plank with two-handed saws and a saw-pit, and with this green lumber, built large, clumsy “dories” and strong ferry-boats, calking them with cotton, and graving them with gum (obtained in the forests).

At one time nearly a third of the regiment was set at engineering-work of one sort or another; and in this and other like labors, were kept employed through the rest of the month of December. This handiness of the men was in part the result of their native Yankee ingenuity and strong self-reliance. While few, if any, were professional engineers or millwrights, yet their knowledge of carpentry and of the use of mechanics’ tools enabled them to do a fair piece of work of almost any description, and led them to attempt many things that they had never seen done.

The author does not wish to create the impression that this handiness and mechanical skill was wholly confined to the Twenty-ninth Regiment. It was quite general in the whole Ninth Corps, in which were several other Massachusetts regiments. It was about this time that the coffee-mill was introduced, with the outfit, to grind corn and wheat. Who originated the idea, cannot now be known; but it was a happy one, and saved the men from much destitution and labor, Christ’s brigade having two or three of these machines in every company. “There must have been a corner,” says an officer, “in this article of ironmongery, at that time, in East Tennessee. But the Twenty-ninth was superior even to a corner, for when these articles became scarce from having been worn out, one of the men got a file, and gathering three or four discarded coffee-mills, recut their scores, and fitted out his friends and comrades with something almost as good as new.”

The favorite theory of some, even professional military men, that a good soldier should be, and is, a good machine, never using his reasoning faculties, or exercising his own judgment, finds no corroboration in the history of this campaign. But for the intelligence and sterling common-sense of our soldiers here, giving them complete adaptability to all the varied circumstances of their situation, they would have perished from the cold and hunger of that mountainous and terribly destitute country.

A knowledge of the laws of health taught them that the practice of getting a full meal as often as the rations would allow, though it be but once a day, was a better way of sustaining life and health, than that of taking three or four scanty meals, and being hungry all the time; they learned for themselves the beneficial effect of sleeping as much as possible by a blazing fire, and taking every precaution to keep the body warm. But neither intelligence, good judgment, nor the use of cunning devices, nor all combined, could wholly avail the soldiers against the absolute want that prevailed in that dreary winter camp. Blaine’s Cross-Roads was the Valley Forge of the Rebellion. It was a bleak, mountainous plain, some twenty miles from Knoxville. The ground was for much of the time well covered with snow and ice. Many of the men were without shoes or stockings, and to supply this want, raw-hides were issued, which the destitute soldiers fashioned into rude moccasins. The garments of both officers and men were in tatters, and all sorts of expedients were resorted to, to protect themselves from the cold; some whose trousers were ragged, cut up their overcoats for patches; others still were without blankets. The army was quartered in shelter-tents; nothing except the abundance of wood saved the men from freezing. The suffering from want of food was, if possible, even greater than that which arose from a lack of clothing and shelter. “At one issue of rations, each man received for his mite eight ounces of flour for nine days. One tablespoonful of coffee was issued once in from three to five days.”43 It was not possible for men to exist upon such a small quantity of food, and hence they resorted to foraging. The food-hunting excursions that grew out of this state of pinching poverty often extended far into the surrounding country, but they commonly resulted in sore disappointment.

The loyal farmers had been stripped of nearly all their supplies by the army of the enemy; but they were touched by pity at seeing our hungry men, and listening to their earnest requests for food, and occasionally some large-hearted planter would share with them his meagre stock of provisions, and send them away from his door with a small piece of bacon or a few pounds of meal. The pangs of hunger are not easy to be endured. After the teamsters had fed their animals at night, the half-famished soldiers would creep stealthily to the pens, steal the corn upon which the poor animals were feeding, and then betaking themselves to their tents, spend a large part of the night in grinding and cooking it. So general did this practice of stealing the food of the animals become, that guards were regularly stationed over them whenever they were fed; but the guards, as hungry as their fellows, stole the corn themselves.

The author is well aware of the distressing nature of these details, but the story of Blaine’s Cross-Roads has never before been published to the world, so far as his knowledge extends, and showing as it does that the sufferings of our soldiers in this campaign were not surpassed by those of our revolutionary soldiers even at Valley Forge, he has deemed it important to give a somewhat minute account of these privations. The story is well calculated to disprove the favorite theory of many, that the habits of luxury of the Americans of to-day have resulted in both physical and moral degeneracy. Washington’s soldiers at Valley Forge were mutinous, and at times could not be commanded,44 but the Union soldiers at Blaine’s Cross-Roads were obedient, and so far forgetful of their sufferings, that, without murmuring, they performed every task assigned to them, and whenever their brave old enemy made his appearance, they were ready to fight. Pack and draught animals died by scores here and at other places in the department, by reason of the scarcity of food. This state of things made it necessary to lessen the number of mounts usually allowed in the army. Only one pack mule was allowed to a regiment for officers’ baggage and mess kit, and two to the brigade headquarters. Writing concerning the experiences of this winter, an officer of the regiment says: “It is well known that a mule will thrive on fence rails, but it may be a benefit to future campaigners to know that sassafras twigs are very nourishing and satisfactory to a hungry horse, and that he can be kept fat on them.”

The law of Congress which provided for the payment of large bounties to re-enlisting veterans, was designed to retain in the service an army of trained and skilful men. In pursuance of this law, the War Department issued an order just before the close of the year 1863, promising, in addition to the bounty, a furlough of thirty days, provided a sufficient number of men enlisted in each regiment to constitute an organization of that size, the furlough to be given before the expiration of the original term. Strange as it may seem, a very large majority of the members of the Twenty-ninth re-enlisted under this order, while they were enduring the famine, toil, and nakedness of Blaine’s Cross-Roads. On the first day of January, 1864, they were mustered into the service of the United States for another term of three years, as the Twenty-ninth Veteran Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. But they were doomed to disappointment as to receiving at once the promised furlough.

On the 16th of January, the whole corps was ordered out of camp, and moved to Strawberry Plain, a station on the East Tennessee and Virginia Railroad, crossed the Holston River, and went into camp upon the banks. General Sheridan, who was in command of the Fourth Corps (also engaged in this movement), assumed command of all the troops. This march, though only of seven miles, was one of the hardest of the campaign; the roads, which were frozen at night, thawed during the day, producing mud several inches in depth; and the men were so feeble from the effects of their suffering, that it required nearly all the strength they possessed to get along. The regiment was now under the command of Colonel Barnes,—Pierce having the command of a brigade. During the siege of Knoxville, Barnes reached our forces at Cumberland Gap, on his way to his regiment, and here he remained till the siege was raised, on duty as a member of the staff of the general in command there. He reached his regiment on the 26th of December, at Blaine’s Cross-Roads.

On the expedition above spoken of, the Twenty-ninth went no farther than the first halting-place, on the Holston. Its camp was formed near a famous trestle railroad bridge, that spanned the river at this point. The bridge was famous because of its great value and skilful construction, and from the fact that it had been repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt by both armies. While the bulk of the army was operating far beyond, in the direction of Virginia, the regiment, with a few other troops of the Ninth Corps, seemed to be left here for the purpose of protecting this bridge. In the course of several days afterwards, the expeditionary army began to return, moving towards Knoxville; and at midnight of the 20th, the regiment was ordered to recross the river. Falling back about three miles from the bank, it halted, and remained in camp till the 22d, other troops taking its place as a guard at the bridge, where, on the 21st, a sharp skirmish was had with the enemy, who attempted to cross.

The First Division of the Ninth Corps was assigned to the duty of covering the retreat of our army. At midnight of the 22d, the regiment marched two miles to the rear, and halted for the troops that had been in advance to pass. These troops had with them two brass pieces of artillery, drawn by the men. The regiment followed on behind the artillery till daybreak, when one of these guns, having been abandoned, they took charge of it. “The men, without much complaint, formed along, took up the cold, stiff rope attached to the cannon, and were soon on the march again, dragging the heavy piece after them, over the frozen road, that had been badly cut up by the passing trains. Up and down hills, over streams, and through fields and forests, the men dragged the gun, exerting all their strength.”45 When within twelve miles of Knoxville, the regiment was met by horses sent out to take in the artillery, and were thus relieved of their charge. During this movement, the Seventy-ninth New York Highlanders acted as rear guard, with the Twenty-ninth as a support, Colonel Morrison of the Seventy-ninth being in command of both regiments.

At about noon (22d), when ten miles from Knoxville, word was sent to the Twenty-ninth regiment, from the headquarters of the Ninth Corps, then two or three miles away, that a halt was to be made for dinner, and that the Twenty-ninth and Seventy-ninth might govern themselves accordingly. All seemed comparatively quiet at the moment, and Colonel Barnes ordered his regiment to halt. The staff-officers removed the saddles from their horses, to give the weary animals a little rest, while both men and officers stretched themselves upon the ground. They had scarcely settled down to rest, when a number of sharp shots were heard from the direction of the skirmish line, indicating that the enemy had struck our rear. The horses were quickly saddled, and the line formed. Shortly the Seventy-ninth was seen coming down the hill, steadily but rapidly. “Here they come!” cried one of the officers, and in a moment more the enemy made their appearance. The two regiments now formed in the field. A large body of the enemy’s cavalry, with drawn sabres, shouting and screaming, dashed down the road. Our men brought their pieces up instantly and fired a well-aimed volley, and the troopers fell back into the woods. But in a few moments they again appeared, this time in the field. Our troops now took the road and the edge of the woods that skirted the field, and as the cavalry came across the open space at a rapid run, shouting to our men to surrender, they received both a front and flank fire at the same moment. The line was thoroughly broken, and the horsemen instantly scattered and fled for the woods in their rear, under a heavy fire. As soon as the battle began, word was forwarded to the corps, and orders were sent back for the regiments to retire gradually, and hold the enemy in check. The enemy almost wholly disappeared, and the officers began to suspect an extensive flanking movement. Our men fell back rapidly for the distance of a mile, halted, and sent out a line of skirmishers. The Confederates appeared in front in small squads, firing a few shots to attract our attention, but presently, as had been anticipated, their main body appeared on our left flank. The two regiments now began to retreat in line of battle,—through woods, over fences, across streams and meadows,—keeping up a constant skirmish, till they arrived within three miles of Knoxville, where they made a stand and drove their pursuers back.

On the 24th of January, the regiment passed through Knoxville, flying its tattered flags, and marched about five miles southwest of the city, to a beautiful place known as Erin Station, on the Virginia and East Tennessee Railroad. The scarcity of food for both men and beasts was now, notwithstanding the raising of the siege, nearly as great as it had been during the preceding autumn and early winter, and all troops not required for actual field service were being employed in gathering such supplies as the already much-exhausted country afforded.

On the 25th, Colonel Barnes was ordered to forage south of Clinch River, and taking with him a large number of wagons and all his men fit to march, set out in the direction named. A halt for the night was made at Mr. Black’s plantation, Black’s Ford, on the Clinch. Black was a farmer of means, and possessed a large store of corn, a portion of which was taken the next morning, Mr. Black receiving therefor a written receipt enabling him to obtain pay for it from the Government, upon proof of his loyalty. The trains then forded the river and divided, Major Chipman taking charge of one division and Colonel Barnes of the other. Chipman, who had a less number of wagons to load, reached the camp of the regiment at Erin Station in advance of the other detachment, which had a long journey, but returned on the 28th with well-filled wagons.

After moving about the country considerably, Colonel Barnes came to the plantation of one Sheriff Staples, whose corn-fields were very extensive. Upon entering the fields, it appeared that the corn had been gathered, and as the battalion was about leaving, some keen fellow ventured upon a further examination, resulting in the discovery that the corn on the outside rows had been plucked, while in the centre of the field there was great abundance of it. This plan had been devised to deceive foragers, but it failed to operate successfully this time. Members of the regiment speak of a certain family named “Crow,” whose place they visited on this march, and whose conduct and appearance were so suspicious, that they deemed it unwise to lodge or eat in the house. Much of the country travelled over on this march had never before been visited by the regiment, and in searching for the large farms, the officers were often obliged to inquire the way of the country people. One familiar answer to such inquiries was, “Two looks and a screech”; and another, “Six bends and a go-over”; the meaning of which latter expression was, you will pass six bends or turns in the road, and cross one bridge—“go-over”—before reaching the place inquired about. The extreme ignorance of some of the people of this region is well shown by a conversation which Lieutenant Whitman had with a farmer’s wife, to whom he said that he came from Boston, Massachusetts. “I come from them parts myself,” said the old lady. “Ah! whereabouts, Madam?” asked the officer. “Tarry Haute, Indianny,” was the intelligent answer.

January 29. A written order from division headquarters directed the regiment to make immediate arrangements to proceed on their veteran furlough, and that the non-re-enlisting members of the regiment, about one hundred in number, should at once be transferred to the Thirty-sixth Massachusetts Regiment. The order was an unjust one, and contemplated a complete dissolution of the connection of these men with the Twenty-ninth, and forcing them, wholly against their will, to become members of the Thirty-sixth Regiment. It was in effect a severe punishment for not being willing to serve the Government for a longer term than that which they had originally agreed to. If it had been simply an assignment to duty with the Thirty-sixth Regiment, there would have been no cause for complaint, and no injurious consequences would have resulted from it; but their names were to be dropped from the rolls of the Twenty-ninth, and as some of the transferred men were absent in hospitals and on detached duty, the names of the latter were not taken up on the rolls of the Thirty-sixth, and much confusion and difficulty as to their pay and discharge came from it. Colonel Barnes, who commanded the regiment at the time of the order, clearly foreseeing its baneful effects, attempted to have it modified; but he was unable to do so, and all the evils predicted by him finally became apparent. It was not till the midsummer of 1864, that the Government discovered this blunder, and then orders were issued directing the re-transfer of all non-re-enlisting men to their old regiments. At this time both the Twenty-ninth and Thirty-sixth regiments were at the front, engaged in the severe duties of an active campaign. Books and papers had been lost in the terrible marches and battles from the Wilderness to the James; officers and men had been killed; and not a few of the old officers of the Twenty-ninth had been discharged. The execution of the last-named order devolved on the Thirty-sixth Regiment; but they were, for the reasons already given, utterly unable to comply with it; and though every effort was made to set the matter right, and the commanding officer of the Twenty-ninth rendered all the aid in his power, yet the order could not be, and never was, fully executed. One of the most serious results of the original order of transfer was the loss of the final record of some of the transferred men, including several who were actually killed in battle while serving in the Thirty-sixth Regiment. The aged mother of one of these poor fellows, who was killed at the Wilderness, applied for a pension, and was informed by the pension officer that the rolls of the Twenty-ninth showed that the name of her son had been dropped, and that as the rolls of the Thirty-sixth Regiment did not bear it, the conclusion was he had deserted.

The movements of the regiment during February and March were so numerous, that we cannot describe them with much detail, but will speak of them briefly under their dates.

February 15. Moved camp to a place near Knoxville, in a drenching rain-storm. A part of the march was performed during the night, which was very black and wild.

February 18. Again moved, keeping near the city, however. The night was very cold.

February 24. The regiment and corps, including the Thirty-sixth Regiment, broke camp at daybreak, marched three miles beyond Strawberry Plain, and camped in the woods. During this march the officers were without horses, tents, or blankets.

Under the date of February 26, the diary of a field-officer of the regiment, from which we quote, has the following:—

“Same place. Sent the tents, etc., to the bridge to be taken to Knoxville. Move to-morrow, at daybreak. The little the ‘mess’ had to eat was destroyed by fire last night. I have no money, no horse; clothes in rags; boots worn through on the soles, and burnt; no tobacco; no chance to buy anything if I had money; couldn’t get forage if horses were here. Slept on the ground in front of a fire, with one ragged blanket. Very cold.”

If a field-officer was thus destitute, how much greater must have been the destitution of the men! The regiment had not been paid for more than six months.

February 27. Moved to Strawberry Plain. Crossed the Holston River in boats, and moved forward two miles into the woods. Encamped for the night.

February 28. Sunday. The horses were returned to the officers. The whole corps moved through New Market to Mossy Creek, a distance of eleven miles, and formed a camp.

February 29. Marched to Morristown. It rained in torrents all day and night. An attack by the enemy was rumored, and the troops received orders to be prepared for it.

March 1. In camp all day. Severe, cold rain. Many of the soldiers agree in saying, that this was one of the most uncomfortable days spent in the army.

March 2. Moved at half-past four, A. M., to Mossy Creek. At midnight the order came for the whole corps to retire across the creek. The blundering and confused manner in which the orders were given, indicated “that somebody in authority was badly frightened, without cause.”

March 3. Moved forward across the creek again, and camped.

March 5. The regiment had a skirmish with the enemy’s cavalry while on picket.

March 12. Colonel Barnes was placed in command of the Brigade, the command of the regiment devolving upon Major Chipman. Moved to Morristown.

March 13. The enemy attacked our pickets, causing some excitement, but nothing serious resulted.

March 14. The regiment and brigade marched with the First Brigade to a cross-roads, as a support to the latter, in their movement towards the enemy’s lines. While here the First Brigade dashed upon the enemy, and scattered and broke up one of his camps.

March 17. The regiment and corps moved through the woods and fields to New Market. The day was very cold, and the march extremely hard.

March 18. Marched to within seven miles of Knoxville, crossing the Holston on pontoons. The day was very cold. On the next day the regiment went into camp near Fort Sanders.

March 21. The corps and regiment marched to Clinton, nineteen miles, and encamped upon the banks of the Clinch River.

The regiment had already received orders to go to Massachusetts on its veteran furlough. It had been arranged for a part of the men—those who were the most destitute and unfit to march—to go by rail by way of Chattanooga and Nashville; while the balance, by far the minority, were to perform the march over the Cumberland Mountains. Captain Richardson was placed in command of the railroad party, and started on his trip about March 20. The mountain party under command of Major Chipman—Colonel Barnes having been assigned to the command of the Brigade—were provided with six pack mules and saddles, with which to transport their baggage over the mountains. The allowance was indeed scanty, for the march was to be a long one; no food could be obtained on the road, and these animals were to carry all the necessary stores, tents of officers, mess kits, and other baggage.

On the 22d of March, the Brigade was ferried across the Clinch River in scows. Here a furious snow-storm came on, which grew so severe as to prevent the balance of the corps from crossing. Colonel Barnes was ordered to move on without waiting for the rest of the troops; the air was biting cold and raw, and the roads frozen and slippery. The officers were compelled to dismount and lead their horses; while the men, many of whom were poorly off for shoes, suffered intensely from cold feet. Worn out, tired, and miserable as men could be, the camp was formed early in the afternoon in a forest near the roadside. To add to their misery, a heavy rain-storm set in soon after nightfall, continuing till morning. “Even the climate of East Tennessee seems to grudge us our departure, and to place all its impeding powers in the way of our passage homeward,” says an officer of the regiment in his diary, under this date.

March 23. The balance of the corps came up, and the march over the Cumberland Mountains was begun. From this time till the 27th, the troops were passing along over the mountain roads. On the 24th, the regiment camped at “Chitwoods.” It snowed all night, and the men slept upon the ground. On the 25th, the regiment marched all day, from early morning till late evening, in a hard rain-storm, and lay down upon the cold wet earth at night. The roads were in a most shocking condition; so bad that the officers were obliged to dismount. The rain gave birth to innumerable torrents, which, rushing down the mountain-sides, plowed open great furrows in the road-bed, in some instances so wide that they could only be crossed by bridging. On the 27th, the troops reached Point Isabel, in the mountains, where there was a camp called “Camp Burnside.” The sutler stationed at this place, hoping to make a fortune in a day, very imprudently trebled the price of his goods. A murmur of disapproval arose among the men, which resulted in the whole of Ferrero’s division turning out and sacking the greedy trader’s booth, and making among them a distribution of his goods. There was a sort of wild justice about this performance, that so far commended itself to the officers of the corps, that the men were not interfered with or punished. At noon of this day, the regiment crossed the Cumberland River on pontoons, and at night went into camp at Somerset, Ky.

March 28. The march was commenced early in the morning, a halt being made for dinner on the same spot of ground where the regiment stopped for the same purpose in June, 1863. At night, camped (the third time) at Waynesborough. The men had a wet bivouac; it rained hard all night.

On the night of the 29th, the camp was formed at Hall’s Gap. A severe snow-storm set in as the sun went down, and continued all night, rendering the condition of the “boys” intensely miserable.

March 30. Marched through Stanford, and halted for dinner at Lancaster. The roads were covered with snow, and the weather was very cold. Went into camp about three miles from Camp Dick Robinson. The camp was made on the farm of an eccentric character, named Robert L. Route. He was the owner of a large plantation, and was in that region a sort of “land king,”—a man to whom the neighboring people always went for advice, and whose word was law; there were many such throughout the South. Route kindly invited the brigade commander and staff to spend the night at his house, a genuine country palace, where they were hospitably treated. During the night, some of the men very thoughtlessly cut down one of his fine black locust-trees. “When the old planter discovered the mischief, the next morning, he became exceedingly angry; but instead of going to the officers and making known his grievance, he knelt down under the windows of their bedroom, and in their hearing, invoked, in a long prayer, upon the heads of the soldiers who destroyed his locust-tree, the Divine wrath,—prayed that they might be suddenly removed from the earth, and consigned to the torments of the damned.

The officers feared an unpleasant reception at the breakfast table that morning; but Mr. Route’s hospitality was superior to his passions, and as though nothing of an unpleasant nature had happened, greeted them courteously.

After supper (the night before), Route brought in his little son, a youth of some nine or ten summers, whom he introduced to the officers as Robert L. Route, Jr., and standing him upon the table, made the following exhibition of his precocity: “Robert, my son, who was the greatest man that ever lived?” “Jesus Christ,” said the youth. “Right, my son; who is the next greatest man that ever lived?” “Abraham Lincoln,” was the answer. “Right, my son; and who is the next?” “Robert L. Route, my father,” answered the boy, with increased assurance. “Right, my son; and, gentlemen, isn’t this a boy to be proud of?” said the delighted parent. The officers increased the father’s happiness by saying that they thought the boy a very remarkable one indeed, and that his high estimation of his father’s worth was well grounded.

March 31. The regiment arrived at Camp Nelson at noon. Here four days’ rations were distributed among the men of the Brigade, after which it moved to Nicholasville, and took the cars for Cincinnati.

April 1. The Brigade arrived at Covington (opposite Cincinnati), and Major Chipman had orders to proceed with the regiment to Cincinnati. Crossed the Ohio to the city, and took up quarters in the Sixth Street barracks. Colonel Barnes gave up his command of the Brigade and joined his regiment. Colonel Pierce, who had been in Massachusetts for several weeks prior to this, upon learning of the arrival of the regiment at Cincinnati, came to that city on the 3d of April, assumed command, and on the 7th started with the regiment for Boston, arriving there about five o’clock on Saturday afternoon, April 9.

The regiment came home so unexpectedly, that no preparations were made to receive it, and the men, except those who belonged in the city, went into the barracks on Beach Street, while the officers took up their quarters at the United States Hotel. The Boston papers of Monday the 11th of April duly noticed the arrival of the regiment, the “Journal” devoting nearly a half-column to a description of it, the names of its officers, an account of the battles and campaigns in which it had been engaged, and said of it, among other pleasant things, “The Twenty-ninth has as good a record as any in the service, and deserves a hearty welcome.”

According to the report above alluded to, the regiment at that time numbered one hundred and sixty-six enlisted men. On this day the regiment was formally received by the State and city authorities. Escorted by the Cadets, it marched through the principal streets of the city. Dinner was served at the American House, to which all, both men and officers, were made welcome. Governor Andrew was present at the dinner, and made a most pleasing address. Speeches were also made by Colonels Pierce and Barnes, and by Captains Clarke and Leach. The command was dismissed at the close of the day, and the men, weary with the formalities of a public reception, went to their several homes, there to be received in a manner that more keenly touched their hearts; for there they were to be greeted by those who loved them, had a deep personal interest in their welfare, and who had waited and watched for them for nearly three long, weary years.

On the evening of the 19th of April, a reception levee was given to the members of the Bay State Guards, in the City Hall of Charlestown. The hall was elaborately decorated for the occasion, and fine music enlivened the guests. His Excellency Governor Andrew, and His Honor Mayor Stone, were present, and both made speeches to the veterans, welcoming them to their homes and the festivities of the evening. The levee ended with dancing and a collation.

Company C of East Bridgewater was also accorded a public reception soon after its return. The good people of Plymouth and Sandwich paid similar honors to their returning soldiers; but there was mingled with all these receptions and kind greetings, much that tended to repress joy and gladness. The war-cloud still hovered over the land, darkening every hearth and every home. Even while the furloughed soldiers were listening to the strains of welcoming music, the booming of Grant’s cannon in the Wilderness was heard, and the knowledge that their own comrades, so unjustly separated from them, were fighting there, tinged all their enjoyment with sorrow, and filled them with troublesome apprehensions.