Read Ebook: Siege of Washington D.C. written expressly for little people by Adams F Colburn Francis Colburn

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Then General George sent the right wing of his grand army, under General Franklin, by water, to West Point, where he fought a battle with General Johnston's rear-guard, and gained another victory. Then both armies moved leisurely along, up the Peninsula, in a manner not to make the marching uncomfortable. It rained a great deal, and the roads were bad, and the enemy resolved not to be hurried. And our Government, which was not so wise in war matters then as it got to be in time, was not disposed to do anything that might change General Johnston's resolution. In fine, our Government seemed to have quite as big a quarrel with General George as it had with the rebels, and the politicians held it of more importance to destroy our own general than the rebel army. The Government was just as fair as fair could be in making promises to General George. But then the Government seemed to have a short memory, and forgot its promises almost as soon as it had made them. It promised to send General McDowell, who was not far away, to help George fight the rebels and take Richmond. But the Government forgot to do so; and instead, kept that gallant officer looking from the hills of Fredericksburg, to see if the rebels were coming in that direction. To tell you the truth, my son, our Government was so afraid that the rebels would turn short around and take Washington, and make prisoners of its cabinet officers, that it made "look-out generals" of so many brave officers, who had troops under their command, that it had none to send General George to assist in taking Richmond. It may however, be a consolation to us to know that this would not have been the first time, in the history of the world, that fear had cost a great nation its fortunes and its glories.

General George marched leisurely along with his brave army until he came within four miles of Richmond, where there was a great swamp called the Chickahominy. The name of this swamp will be long remembered by our brave soldiers of the Army of the Potomac. The rain fell like a deluge, and flooded it; and it gave out deadly fevers, which brought death and tribulation on our army. And in this swamp our army fought the battle of Fair Oaks, and gained another grand victory over the enemy. But we had no means of following up this victory, and so its effect was lost to us. Then our army settled down into this deadly swamp, and wondered and waited for nearly a month, until our men got heart-sick and fever-stricken. We watched the enemy on the hills beyond; and the enemy watched us in the swamp. And we waited until the enemy had brought all his forces up into Richmond, and General Lee, his best general, had taken command. Things began to look desperate with our George, and he began thinking how he should get safely out of the swamp and change his base. How was he to fight Mr. Lee with all his strength, when the strength we ought to have sent him was kept at a safe distance looking on? George saw that the glories of Williamsburg, of West Point, of Hanover Court House, and of Fair Oaks would have to be thrown away because the wisdom of the nation would not send us aid.

This, my son, was the day of our tribulation. The people were strong, and the army represented the people. I wish, my son, that I could say also that the Government was strong. But the army, if it was sick, had not lost its courage, nor its love for the general who commanded it.

General Lee then came out with his strong and powerful army and fought us at Gaines's Mill, where he beat us after a desperate battle. We might as well confess that we were beaten, and badly beaten, in that battle; and that we had to make the best we could of our defeat, and get across the Chickahominy Swamp as quick as we could, and turn our backs on it forever, for we had filled it with the graves of our brave soldiers. George was sanguine, had great confidence in the endurance of his army, and looked forward to the future with faith and hope. He did not want to acknowledge that he was beaten at Gaines's Mill; but the nation made up its mind that he was. Indeed, the nation could not comprehend the principle of generalship that claimed a victory, and at the same time made a change of base necessary in the face of an advancing enemy. But George got his army safe across the Chickahominy, though in some confusion, and instead of driving the enemy to the wall, as he had promised us he would do, the enemy began driving him to the James River.

Like the Irishman who had twice got his head broken, but was unwilling to say he was beaten, George continued to show General Lee that our army was still full of pluck.

So he turned round and thrashed the enemy right soundly at Savage's Station, at White Oak Swamp, and at Malvern Hill--just to show that he could do it. These are places, my son, you shall read of in history. And the glories of the battles fought at them shall become brighter and brighter as we contemplate them; and new lustre will shed on the names of the officers who fought them, and set such noble examples of courage to their men. It was George's misfortune that he fought these battles and gained these victories while his army was moving backward instead of forward--while seeking a place of safety instead of driving the enemy to seek one. This makes a great difference with the public, which does not generally study the rules of strategy, and does not like to see an army fall back after it has gained what its commander claims to be a great victory.

POPE DID IT.

HERE, my son, you have an exact portrait of the great general who was brought to Washington to command all our armies, and to keep us from making any more military mistakes. He is presented to you just as he sat in his easy chair, confounding the rules of war and bringing confusion on the army. This great general, though he had never fought a battle, except on paper, brought with him from the West a new and much enlarged plan for taking Richmond.

General George was on the banks of the James River, with his army, pointing with his sword toward Richmond, as the heart of the rebellion, and offering to take it for us if we would only send him twenty-five thousand fresh men, which very reasonable proposal we declined. Indeed the general we had placed in the easy chair at Washington, over George, declared it as his solemn conviction that Richmond was not to be taken in any such way. That an army so near Richmond could not take it with advantage. That objective points must be reached over the right road, not the wrong one. That General George, having taken his army to Richmond over the wrong road, must bring it back over the same wrong road, and then proceed on his travels over the right road. That Richmond, unless approached over the right road could not be taken in the right way. That General George had deceived us, inasmuch as his plan had too much strategy in it, and not enough straight lines. That Richmond, to be taken in the right way, must be taken by a new general, with a new army, and according to new ideas. That it was better to keep Washington from being taken than to take Richmond, though we had a large army knocking at its gates. This was the military logic of our new Commander-in-Chief. And this was the great Commander-in-Chief who was to conduct the war for us on enlarged principles and keep the nation safe against blunders.

This great general, then, when he had got comfortably settled in his easy chair, must needs show the people what faith he had in his new plan. So he ordered little George to pack up his baggage, stop knocking at the enemy's back door, and bring his army back to Washington on transports. Of course the rebels were very thankful to him for this act of kindness, as it evinced a disposition to conduct the war for their benefit. With General George and his army on their way to Washington by ship, Richmond was no longer besieged. And then the rebel army was at liberty to go where it pleased. And it very soon pleased General Lee to march it against Washington at a rapid pace, and over the shortest road. We had an army at sea, and a number of others we did not know just exactly where. So things military began to get so confused that the people did not understand them. They were requested to be patient, however, and patient they had to be.

Well, my son, we brought the scattered battalions we had on their front together at the forts, and soon formed a good fighting army. But where was the new general to lead it to victory for us? The government cast about it for a man, and at last fixed its eye on Pope. He was the shining star among generals, the man to take the buckrum out of the rebels for us. And it was said of this great general that he possessed uncommon virtues. His friends laid numerous feats of valor at his door, and the whole history of war was ransacked to find another such a hero. He had captured Islands, whipped rebel armies , and bagged invisible prisoners enough to satisfy a Napoleon. This great general, too, was remarkable for his modesty; and he was also a man of strict veracity. Yes, my son, considering the times, he was a rare example of a man who never boasts of his achievements, nor claims a feather that belongs to another man's cap. Such were the virtues of this great general.

Well, my son, we sent for him to come to Washington and take care of us, and he came.

HOW THE NEW GENERAL CAME TO TOWN.

MY artist has drawn you an exact picture of the manner in which this great general entered the capital of the nation. The skies brightened, and the country felt safe again at the thought of having such a hero. Children laughed and gamboled, and said the rebels would get it now Pope had come to town. Dogs ran out, and barked, and snapped for joy. The crowd pressed forward to look at him, and policemen, for once, had enough to do. Fair women waived handkerchiefs and threw him kisses. And many were they who marvelled that so great a soldier had remained so long undiscovered. You see, my son, we are a people much given to excitement, and when we get to heaping honors on a man we do it without mercy. Hence it pleased us much when we saw Pope come to town amidst the beating of drums and the blowing of horns. That was the way he came.

I have spoken of this great general's modesty, my son. It will also be necessary for me to inform you that he introduced a new idea in war, one worthy of being added to the regulations, and that was that every general should be his own trumpeter, as well as keep a number of trumpeters in his employ.

Then Pope went out to see and have a talk with his army. He also published a grand order to his soldiers, which will stand as a great curiosity in our war literature, as long as the history of the rebellion, for its wisdom astonished the people. He told them the war had been carried on after a strange fashion, which he intended should be changed. He enjoined them, in a word, neither to look to the right nor the left, but to keep straight ahead, with their steel sharp and their powder dry. And when they got near enough to the enemy to see the color of his eye, then deliver their lead right square into his stomach. That was the way war must be carried on. Our army must look only to the front, keep its eye open, and forget that there was such a thing as its rear.

This was highly encouraging to those politicians who said our army must get to Richmond over the shortest road. After what I have said, my son, you will not fail to see what a great general this Pope was. Great generals were not generally generous enough to intrust the care of their rear to the enemy. But this was not all. He established his headquarters in the saddle, and told his soldiers they would always find him there. My opinion has always been, though I have never had much to do with war, that the general who establishes his headquarters in the saddle, was not always to be found when you wanted him. In short, the saddle is a very uncertain locality, and very difficult to find when you have information to convey, and orders to receive; both of which may be necessary during a battle. I rode an hour once to find a general whose headquarters were in the saddle, and did n't find him after all.

When, then, this great general had shown us how the rebels were to be whipped, he went out to take command of his army. And again there was great blowing of horns and beating of drums. And when he had got his headquarters firmly established in the saddle, he invited the enemy to come forward and get whipped. And the enemy came forward in all their strength,--fierce and earnest, and a great and bloody battle was fought on the plains of Manassas. And when they had fought for three days General Pope declared his new method of carrying on the war was a great success; that he had got the rebels just where he wanted them, and would have them all in his trap for us to-morrow. We all threw up our caps and felt so happy at this good news. But our hopes were dashed to the ground again, and it turned out that our Pope had made a slight mistake. It was the rebels who had got him just where they wanted. The saddle was not a good place from which to see what the enemy were doing. And as Pope had given no heed to his rear, General Lee very wisely took the responsibility of giving that important position his attention.

When, then, to-morrow came, our general, who was to give the rebels such a whipping for us, found them in his rear, on his flank, everywhere but where he wanted them. The very natural result of this was that his army resolved itself into a state of confusion, and in that manner came scampering back on Washington, leaving its commander to take care of himself, which he did, though with the loss of his wardrobe. It has been hinted that he returned to Washington a much wiser general than when he left it.

The nation was again brought to grief, and fear and disorder reigned in Washington. People were heard to say that Pope had made a prodigious failure, and was not the general we took him for, or he never would have let his army run away from him in this way. Others declared he had opened the gates of the city to the enemy, and invited him to walk in. And it was not with feelings of encouragement that they saw gunboats move up and take position where they could check the enemy's approach. Never did general lose his laurels so quickly. Indeed, my son, when he returned to Washington, with little else than his saddle, there was not a dog to bark him a welcome, nor a chambermaid to wave a napkin in his honor.

Timid people fancied every hour of the day that they could see the rebel army deploying over the hills of Arlington, and loud calls were made for a general who could save us. But we had something better than a mere general to save us. We had the grim and silent strength of the forts. And these the enemy dare not approach. Their effect on the enemy was manifest and he turned aside from them, and passed up into Maryland, victorious and defiant.

I ought to tell you, my son, that while Pope was illustrating the beauties of his new plan at the front, and bringing confusion on our arms, General George arrived with his good old army of the Potomac, which still loved him, still worshipped him as its hero. And just when he was most needed, to save Pope from his disaster, the government relieved him of his command, as if to increase the confusion already prevailing. The army felt this as a slight offered to itself, and called loudly for the restoration of its favorite general. And then the general, whose portrait I have placed at the head of a previous chapter, and who sat in his easy chair in Washington, and brought our armies to grief, called loudly for General George to come and help him out of his trouble. This, you will see, my son, was first tying a man's hands, and then asking him to come and help whip a giant.

Yes, my son, there was toil and trouble enough in Washington just then; and the errors our wise men had committed were like witches rising up and haunting them. It is said that the little bell-ringer of the State Department had his traps packed up, and ready to move; and that fear had made the burly man in the War Department civil. Newly recruited volunteers, well fed, well clothed, and fresh looking, were marching into the city with colors flying and drums beating. The militia, which had come to Washington to do ornamental duty for thirty days, were marching home with colors flying and drums beating. Neither of these could give us relief in our trouble. The nation had only the good old army of the Potomac to lean upon in this its day of trouble. And how few of us, my son, think of this matter properly, or are willing to give the brave men, who composed that army, credit for what they had done. Like the English, we are an exacting people, and inclined to ask too much of those who fight our battles. Some of our public men were for forgetting what those sun-scorched, ragged, and fever-stricken heroes had done for us on the Peninsula, and even for wiping out their record of heroism.

I confess it was to me a sad and touching sight to see these soldiers, who had served their country so well, who had suffered in swamps, and fought and defeated the enemy, treated with what seemed to me criminal indifference in the very capital they had returned to save. They muttered their discontent at the loss of their favorite commander, but were ready again to go forth, struggle with the enemy, and fight for the life of the nation. But not a voice was raised by the government to thank them for what they had done, not a cheer to welcome their return. You must know, my son, that the government was dumb with fear. The ghost of its errors so haunted it that its lips were sealed. The people looked on and saw it, in its very feebleness, asking for stronger hands to come and help it out of its trouble.

There was, my son, but one army and one general that could save the nation then. General George was that man, and the army was the good old Army of the Potomac. And the government, as if to confess its folly in the past, restored General George to his army. And there was great rejoicing over the land when this good news went forth to the people. And the army took more heart, and rejoiced also; and great was its rejoicing. The soldiers had confidence in him, and knew he could lead them to victory. Then he placed himself at their head and marched out in pursuit of the enemy, who was advancing triumphantly into the North. And who among us can tell what changes there would have been in our political and social condition had not the advance of this bold and triumphant enemy been checked by some strong hand? I have often thought, my son, that if the people of a republic were as ready to credit great men with the good they really do, as they are to search their characters for faults, we should have less pretenders and a better government.

A BRIGHTER PROSPECT.

YOU have here an exact picture of the brave Franklin, who commanded the gallant old Sixth Corps, which deserves a bright place in the history of the Army of the Potomac.

When Pope had finished his job for us, and shown us what a hero he was, the government, in the exercise of its wisdom, sent him into the far West to fight the Indians, where he could, with propriety, establish his headquarters in the saddle.

Franklin, who had been relieved of his command, for no one exactly knew what, was now restored to it, to the great joy of the old Sixth Corps. Soldiers fight better under a general they know and have confidence in; and they are the best judges as to who is the most competent to lead them. Franklin and his gallant corps fell in with the enemy, posted in a strong position on the South Mountain, at Crampton's Gap, and after a fierce fight, drove him from it and over into the valley, sometimes charging up the steeps with the bayonet. This was quite an important success, my son, since it checked the enemy's advance, and caused him to fall back on the plains of Antietam, and form his army in line of battle. Indeed, he so far mistook this movement as to believe it an attempt to get in his rear.

This gleam of success, gained by Franklin, inspired the nation with new hope. Yes, my son, and it cheered the hearts of our brave soldiers, restored their strength, and gave them new confidence. Then General George formed his army in line on the plains of Antietam, and a great and bloody battle was fought, and the rebel army beaten and put to flight. Pay no heed, my son, to what the prejudiced may say of this battle. It was one of the greatest battles fought during the war. All honor to the brave soldiers who fought it. Our troops, too, were handled with great skill, and the world never saw better generalship than our George displayed. Yes, my son, Antietam was our Waterloo, fought at a time when the nation needed a victory most; and the general who fought it ought never to be forgotten by his country. When, then, George had gained this victory for us, had beaten and driven the enemy from all his positions, and caused the nation to rejoice, he halted to give his brave soldiers rest and repair damages. His losses were great, and he had compassion on his soldiers, for many of them were without shoes and had little raiment. In truth, my son, these brave, abused, and war-worn soldiers had only the well-worn shoes and clothes they had made the campaign of the Peninsula in.

George pleaded the necessity of his soldiers as a reason for his delay, and very justly. But this pleased neither the government nor the politicians whose bitterest prejudices seemed to control it. These gentlemen urged that he follow the enemy at once and capture him, a piece of strategy not so easily accomplished as many think. In short, we were in no position to follow the enemy until we got shoes and raiment for our brave soldiers. Nor could we have added much to our success by following General Lee and his men, who had an open country before them, until we were well prepared to engage them in another battle. When, however, George got his army ready, he moved directly on the enemy, and his soldiers were in the best of spirits, for we had got General Lee and his men in a position where he would be compelled to fight another battle, with the advantages in our favor. Now I don't say, my son, that George would have won this battle, but by fighting it he would have exposed the enemy's real weakness, and placed him in a very bad position. But the government, as if more willing to promote the prejudices of politicians than to preserve the honor of our arms, resolved not to let George fight another battle. Yes, my son, it removed him from his command, and that, too, when he was close up with the enemy, and was expecting every day to engage him in battle. I do not remember that history records another instance where the commander of an army, that had just gained a great victory, was so disgraced by his own government.

The enemy could not have inflicted a more severe blow on our brave army than was done by this act of our own government. A feeling of disappointment and sorrow ran through the ranks, and the brave men who had fought under and loved their commander, wept at the injustice that took him away from them. It will, in time, be made clear, my son, that the government committed a great crime against our army by this act. It cannot be wisdom to remove a commander, so popular with his army as George B. McClellan was, especially when that army was on the eve of a battle. Such an act is sure to excite dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction destroys discipline. Nor should such a commander be removed at so critical a time unless the government were prepared to fill his place with one of equal, if not superior capacity. A general, to hope for success, must have the confidence and respect of his troops. To remove one who has, and fill his place with one who has not, is a crime than which none can be greater. It is a crime against the brave men whose lives are at the risk of the capacity of their commander. Our government committed this crime when it gave the command of the army of the Potomac to General Burnside. That general was the best judge of what he could do, and freely confessed his incapacity for so high a command. But the government was not to be put off by this confession of weakness on the part of a general, preferring to reward him for his honesty, and make no account of his capacity. I accept this, my son, as the only reason why General Burnside was given so high a command. As for his capacity as a general, he gave us a proof of that when he let the rebels fall back, and get well fortified at Fredericksburg. To show, however, what a general could do by attempting impossibilities, he sent the brave army of the Potomac to be slaughtered by an enemy covered with stone walls. I tell you, my son, it was a dark day for the nation when that was done. It multiplied our misfortunes, gave a deeper wound to our grief and sorrow, and brought disgrace on our arms.

I will pass over these misfortunes as lightly, my son, as possible, hoping only that they will serve us as a warning in the future. Having buried Burnside deep under the misfortunes of his own incapacity, the question again came up, where shall we find a general to do up these rebels for us, and gain us a little victory? The great Grant was doing wonders for us in the West. He was bold, earnest, and brave. And this was the secret of his success. But in the East we were sorely troubled for some one who could do something.

General Hooker was brave and bold. But, my son, he had such a weakness for blowing his own trumpet. Yes, he could blow it as loud and as long as any trumpeter you ever listened to--Pope excepted. He had declared of himself that he was just the man to lead our army to victory, and give the enemy a sound thrashing. It was true, this general had been very insubordinate. He had said a number of things, neither wise nor polite, of his superiors. And he had set an example to his soldiers not inclined to improve their discipline. As, however, he had declared himself the man to lead our army to victory, and the government wanted just such a man, it took the general at his word, and gave him the command.

There were some people, my son, unkind enough to say, and say boldly, that the government did this strange act more to show its appreciation of insubordination than out of respect to his capacity to discharge successfully the duties of his high position. When, however, the general had talked himself into the very best opinion of himself, he went to work nursing his grand army into good order. Yes, my son, the old army of the Potomac was a grand army, and General Hooker declared it was the finest on the face of the globe. And he nursed it into good order on the left bank of the Rappahannock, from December, 1862, to early April, 1863. The general could get up of a morning, and enjoy a look at his old friend Lee, quietly domiciled on the opposite bank. And General Lee could get up of a morning, and do the same. Both generals regarded this as a very harmless and pleasant way of spending the winter, while carrying on the war. They would, at times, it is true, exchange compliments of a belligerent nature. But this was only to give a lively turn to the state of affairs around Fredericksburg. They were, I can assure you, my son, not intended to harm any one.

CHANCELLORVILLE, AND THE CURIOUS FIGHT WE HAD THERE.

I AM sure my friends will all be anxious to see a portrait of the great general who fought the great battle of Chancellorville. And my artist has been particularly careful to present them with a good one.

Chancellorville was a strangely fought battle, my son; I have various good reasons for saying this, but, perhaps, it is best that as little as possible be said concerning them.

When spring came, and the roads were dry, and the robins had begun to sing in the trees, and the buds to put forth, General Hooker began to feel strong, and full of battle. He said to his officers that they must get their courage up, and be ready for a big fight, every one in his own way. And to his men he said, that they must have plenty of powder in their pouches, and not be afraid to use it. A general to be successful, my son, must have confidence in himself. General Hooker had confidence in himself, and felt that he could whip the rebels out of their boots any fine morning. Hence it was, that feeling in a fighting humor one morning in early April, he picked up his army, and, crossing the stream, went in pursuit of the enemy. He found the enemy posted in the woods near Chancellorville, where he engaged him in a fierce and desperate battle. But the general's plan, if he had any, soon got out of his head, and it became apparent that he was fighting the battle in so strange a manner that no one could understand it. In truth, the general set aside the established rules of war early in the battle, and went back to first principles. These give every man the right to fight in his own way, and is beautifully illustrated in an army fighting without orders. I am told, my son, on very good authority, that these "first principles," as applied to fighting battles, never were better developed than at Chancellorville. I am afraid, my son, we shall never get a complete and accurate history of that extraordinary battle, for the reason that no historian will be found capable of describing it. It is certain that the battle had not raged long when our army was in a state of uncertainty and confusion. Sometimes the fight was between different brigades or divisions of our own troops, who were as often brought face to face. The enemy liked this, for it helped him to fight the battle without reinforcements, and saved him a deal of trouble and loss. When we had got a great many men killed in this way, and a great many more severely hurt, the great question arose as to who had won the battle, and who got whipped. There can be little doubt as to the impression made on General Lee's mind on this point. General Hooker was sure he had gained a great victory, and yet he was not so sure. I say he was not so sure, since he found it necessary, before settling the question, to withdraw his army to his old quarters on the other side of the river. It is clear that the general's reflections would be less disturbed in his old quarters, and, with a river separating him from the enemy, he could form a more correct judgment as to whether he had beaten the enemy, or the enemy had beaten him. Feeling, however, that it would not do to let it get out that the enemy had beaten him, he resolved that it must be true that he had beaten the enemy. This was about the most accommodating settlement he could arrive at. But, accepting this in good faith, I never could see the necessity for our haste to get back to our old quarters on the hills, notwithstanding the general's friends said it looked like rain, and he was anxious to get his army over before the shower came on. I have noticed, also, that the rebel army, when beaten, generally fell back in the direction of Richmond. In this instance, however, he held his positions, beat his drums, blew his horns, fluttered his flags, and was altogether the most defiant of vanquished enemies. I noticed, also, that this vanquished enemy packed his knapsacks, put his ammunition in order, and marched off, not backwards, in the direction of Richmond, but forward, in the direction of the North.

Yes, my son, the enemy marched defiantly into Pennsylvania, and sent the peaceable Dutchmen in that remote part of the country into a state of great alarm. And this I accept as the best proof that the rebels were not beaten at Chancellorville. I am sure, also, that General Hooker had sufficient reason to share this opinion with me. He always had the rebels just where he wanted them, and yet I observed that he failed to bring them to a stand before they got on the free soil of Pennsylvania. Every honest Dutchman in the State was convinced in his own mind that General Hooker, if he had been the general he ought to be, should have driven the enemy into some remote corner of Virginia, and kept him there.

The military atmosphere was still full of confusion and uncertainty. And things seemed getting worse every day. Strange as it may seem, the government continued making extensive efforts to further the object of the rebel general. Fortunately for the nation, our wise rulers waked up one morning fully convinced that General Lee was in earnest, that he was already on the free soil of a northern State, with a favorable prospect for making a settlement there. The government also suddenly discovered that General Hooker, although a brave soldier and all that, was not the man to command a great army. So the government relieved him and sent him into elegant retirement, a custom very common at that time.

Then the government appointed General Meade to the command of the grand old army of the Potomac. Of this general little had been known. Still, the nation felt relieved at the change. Now, General Meade was a polished gentleman, a brave and good soldier, who had fought on the Peninsula under McClellan and commanded the Pennsylvania Reserves. To place a new general in command of an army at a time when that army is in face of the enemy and expects every minute to engage him in battle, is one of the most dangerous experiments a government can indulge in. It is also one well calculated to test to their utmost the qualities of the general placed so suddenly in command.

It was the 1st of July, 1863, General Meade took command of the Army of the Potomac, and posted it in order of battle on the hills and plains around Gettysburg. There the two armies stood, the Union and the Rebel, than whom there was none braver, awaiting for the signal for the clash of arms. Then a great battle began and lasted three days. And there was desperate fighting and great valor displayed on both sides, and the field was strewn with the dead and wounded. And the battle of Gettysburg was a great battle, and the Union army of patriots gained a great and glorious victory over the rebels. Yes, my son, and what was more, we celebrated it on the 4th of July. And the people of the North were glad of heart, and rejoiced exceedingly, and sang praises to General Meade, for he had fought the battle well and won his country's gratitude.

Still, my son, we hesitated, and failed to take advantage of our success. In truth, we let the rebel army re-cross the Potomac at its leisure, although we might have given it serious trouble had we pressed it at once. Indeed, there were a great number of people who expected General Meade to either drive the rebel army into the Potomac or capture it. But military men know that capturing a large army, though it may have been beaten in battle, is not so easy a matter. And even a victorious army, after fighting so great a battle, needs rest and time to improve its shattered condition.

HANGING IN THE BALANCE.

HERE, my son, is an exact portrait of the general who fought the great battle of Gettysburg. When he had rested his army a sufficient time he began moving in pursuit of the enemy. The rebel general fell back into old Virginia, taking his time as he went along, and being in no temper to hasten his steps. In short, we followed him back timidly to Orange Court House, where he made a settlement for the winter. There was a good deal of small fighting done during the autumn and winter, but neither side seemed to gain any advantage. The fate of war hung in the balance. If we gained an advantage one day, the enemy would do something to offset it on the next. This state of things was a source of great grief to the nation. The people wanted something more positive for the great amount of life and treasure they were wasting. They called for more earnestness and more resolution on the part of our generals, and a better system of carrying on the war on the part of the authorities at Washington. So, my son, the people's impatience was at length heeded, and when spring came , and the people were weary of the war, and demanded a change in the policy of conducting it, so that an end be put to it as speedily as possible, the government began to wake up to its duty. We had fought battles for two years and hung the nation in mourning, and still Washington was as often in danger as Richmond. Indeed, the fortune of war seemed in favor of Richmond. Then the government began to see that if we would gain victories our armies must be commanded by soldiers, not politicians.

Yes, my son, the people were excited to joy when the government changed its military policy, and the great General Grant was brought to Washington and placed in command of all our armies. The sun of our hopes brightened then, for the people had confidence in that general. He had whipped the rebels so well for us in the West, and he had gained for us so many glorious victories.

And now, my son, we come to this remarkable siege of Washington. I say remarkable, for it is destined to stand on the pages of military history without anything to compare with it. Not that it was as bloody, or that the city was as obstinately attacked and defended as heroically, as some other cities that have been besieged, in ancient as well as modern times. But you must know that sieges, like battles, derive their great importance and all that makes them remembered hereafter, not so much from the amount of blood that has been shed during them, not so much from the impetuosity of the attacks made or the heroic defences, as from the manner in which they affect the fate of nations. Some sieges are remarkable for one thing, some another. The siege of Washington was more remarkable for the manner in which the city was defended than the manner in which it was attacked. No fields were fertilized with carnage, nor banners bathed in blood.

You, remember, my son, the tale of storied Troy, with all its "pomp and circumstance of glorious war." But, my son, it has never seemed to me more interesting than the passage of Thermopyl'. Nor will Agamemnon live in history after Leonidas is forgotten. And yet these events in ancient war were small compared with the battles our Grant fought. His deeds will brighten as you read of them in history, and become greater than them all.

And now, my son, let us hie to the siege of Washington. Washington was besieged and Washington was saved; and the history of its salvation must not perish. Rome, you know, was saved by the cackling of a goose. And when I tell you that Washington, the capital city of this great nation was saved by the too free use of a barrel of whisky, you must not be surprised. When its great circle of fortifications, now bristling with cannon, and filled with busy soldiers, shall become so many grassy mounds, their history must still live to excite the patriotism of those who come after us.

Remember, my son, that had Washington fallen the nation had perished. To this remarkable siege, then, and its results, let all the succeeding glories of this great Republic be attributed.

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