complished by hard knocks. The enemy is strongly fortified at Bowling Green, and is daily increasing along the whole front, of which that place and Columbus are the flanks. It is dangerous to allow him to continue the work of preparation. I believe he will rate the importance of his positions in this order: First, the rivers, including Nashville: Second, Bowling Green Third, Columbus. His center is now the most vulnerable point, as it is also the most decisive. The attack on it should be made by an adequate force, and should be determined and persistent. Twenty thousand men might commence it, and these should probably be increased very soon to 30,000. The first object should be to carry Fort Henry, Dover and Clarksville, destroying the bridges: in fact, the latter ought to be effected by the gunboats, by surprise while the rivers are swollen, as suggested in my letter yesterday." (Much of interest in this part of the letter is omitted, as not necessary to the purpose of this paper.) "... We shall be dependent on the railroad, which must be repaired as we advance. It will take ten days or more to reach their position from Green River" (his advanced post). "I am not unconscious of the magnitude of the work I propose, but it has to be done, and the sooner we can do it the better. While you were sick, by direction of the President, I proposed to Halleck some concert of action between us. He answered, 'I can do nothing: name a day for demonstration.' Night before last I received a dispatch from him saying, 'I have ordered an advance on Fort Henry and Dover. It will be made immediately.' I protest against such prompt proceedings, as though I had nothing to do but command 'Commence firing,' when he starts off. However, he telegraphs me to-night that co-operation is not essential now... The whole letter of Buell's is a first class military document, and is admirable in its temper. It is in striking contrast to the communications from Halleck, either on the subject of strategy or the condition of Missouri.

Halleck now proposed without co-operation to attack the enemy's center from Paducah, leaving Buell idle at Bowling Green, which thus rendered his movement precisely parallel to the one he criticised, with this difference, that by the demonstration he had ordered on the 6th of January of his own volition, and without communication or concert, he had, as has been seen, brought three regiments and two batteries from Memphis and Henderson to add to the garrison of Fort Henry, besides the 8,000 detached from Bowling Green, which became a part of the garrison at Fort Donelson, Buell at the same time not being able to take advantage of the reduction at Bowling Green.

Grant to Halleck, February 1: "I will leave here to-morrow night. . .

Halleck to Buell, February 2: "Yours of the 30th is just received" (letter suggesting destruction of bridges by the gunboats). "At present it is only proposed to take and occupy Forts Henry and Dover (Donelson), and if possible cut the railroad from Columbus to Bowling Green. The roads are in such a horrible condition that troops cannot move by land. How far we may venture to send the gunboats up the river will be left for after consideration. ... The garrison of Fort Henry at last accounts was 6,000. It may be further reinforced from Columbus. Keep me informed of your plans, and I will endeavor to assist you as much as possible. If we take Fort Henry and concentrate all available forces there, troops must be withdrawn either from Bowling Green or Columbus to protect the railroads. If the former, you can advance: if the latter, we can take New Madrid and cut off the river communication with Columbus. But it will take some time to get troops ready to advance far south of Fort Henry."

I will not stop to point out the military blunder in the suggestion of concentrating at Fort Henry without first disposing of Fort Donelson and absolutely occupying the railroad only 16 miles distant from Fort Henry, but will merely call careful attention to the letter as breathing forth in every line an assertion that he should want no help, and expected in fact to be able to help Buell, whose hands he knew he had tied by his refusal to co-operate, accompanied by the statement, that silenced the President and General-inChief, that the force necessary for this work taken from the State of Missouri would lose that State to the Union cause. It will be seen how quickly he calls for help when he knows it must be given to him, and that the President, McClellan, and Buell himself must lend every possible assistance to secure his conquest. The most serious question in the whole history is, What would have been the result if Halleck, like a true soldier, had made known to his superiors and to Buell the force he had at his command for this movement and the time at which he could be ready? There may be as many opinions as there are men to express them, but I should doubt if the great majority would not agree that far more beneficial results must have accrued to our cause if a joint movement had been made.

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A RIDE WITH SHERIDAN

My ride with Sheridan was not a solitary one. It was shared with some ten thousand tried and gallant men who, on scores of bloody fields, had rendered quite malapropos Hooker's famous sarcasm of, "Who ever saw a dead cavalry man?" From the Rapidan to Richmond and Petersburg, and thence to Appomattox they marched and counter-marched, skirmishes here and battles there, until almost every portion of that fair country became the final resting-place of the Union dead.

We then saw in our commander a man about thirty-four years of age, short of stature, but compactly built, with broad square shoulders and a muscular and wiry frame, that suggested powers of endurance far beyond the average. With his firm chin, crisp mustache, and keen searching eye, he looked every inch the soldier. In more senses than one the head of General Sheridan was not a common head. He found it difficult, it is said, to make a hat stay on properly. Certain irregularities called by phrenologists bumps of combativeness were the cause of this singular shape, and greatly inconvenienced himself—as well as his enemies. To prevent his hat from escaping, when galloping over the field during a fight, he often held it in his hand, an act which suggested cheer and encouragement to the men.

The spring of 1864 found the Army of the Potomac, with its encampments along the northern line of the Rapidan, in momentary expectation of the order to prepare for another wrestle with its ever-watchful, its desperate but incomparable antagonist, the army of Northern Virginia. Grant had recently assumed command of all the Federal armies-his head-quarters with the Army of the Potomac-while Sheridan, with the halo of his recent brilliant record in the West fresh around him, took in hand, for the first time as his sole command, the cavalry corps attached to this army. As much as any other commander, Sheridan shielded his troops from unnecessary peril and fatigue, and more, perhaps, than any other, he spared them not, either by night or day, in cold or heat, in storm or in calm, when the enemy was to be met or a position gained.

In giving a short sketch of some of the operations of the cavalry corps attached to the Army of the Potomac, with a few personal reminiscences of the bivouac, march, and battle, I am simply following an irresistible impulse which time does but intensify. No one who has not participated in

the strange and stirring scenes of actual war, can even faintly appreciate the fascination that attaches to its memories. The old soldier will tell you that even the odor of burning leaves carries him back instantly to the bivouac and camp fire: he hears again the clatter and tumult caused by the quick, sharp strokes of the soldiery as they drive down the stakes to which they tie their horses, together with all the low undercurrent of sound characteristic of a great multitude preparing for food and rest after the toil of the day. The crack of the sportsman's rifle recalls the picket line, and the simultaneous discharge of a score or more is wonderfully suggestive of the ominous reports along the skirmish line. More than all else, perhaps, the roar of the cannon, according to its nearness and the volume of its sound, suggests the threatening or fully opened conflict, and brings fresh to mind the mingled and the peculiar sensations experienced by the participant.

On the 2d of May, 1864, came the looked-for orders that were to end the quiet and uneventful monotony of camp life, and set in motion an army of more than a hundred thousand men with "its rolling of drums, tramp of squadrons, and immeasurable tumult of baggage wagons." Το adequately describe the commingled scenes of earnest preparation, vociferous salutations and commands, ludicrous incidents, and picturesque movements associated with such a general disruption calls for an abler pen than mine. Confusion reigns supreme, seemingly, but soon it becomes evident that this "mighty maze is not without a plan." Scattered formations begin, and companies of men, like rills flowing to their stream, assume the concrete form of a regiment, regiments coalesce into brigades, brigades into divisions, until finally the whole cavalry corps of twelve thousand moves grandly away to meet the enemy; but when, or where, or how, it knows not.

Shortly after midnight on the 4th of May the crossing of the Rapidan began, the cavalry fording the river and preceding the infantry, which crossed over on pontoon bridges. Opposition to the passage had been expected, and although not a gun was fired, yet no one will ever forget the strained and expectant state of mind as we plunged into the cold water in anticipation of a volley from the opposite shore. Galloping up the hill to the plain no reminder of the enemy was discovered, with the exception of torn bags of grain and meal which the Confederate pickets had left in their hasty flight. A few miles farther on, the outskirts of the famous Wilderness was reached, and here in few hours were gathered the converging lines of troops who had crossed on bridges farther up the river. Here also, at Wilderness Tavern, were grouped a notable body of men

-Grant, Sheridan, Meade, Hancock, Sedgwick, Warren, and a score or more of other general officers in consultation, or in anticipation of orders.

The cavalry took but little part in or immediately preceding the battle of the Wilderness, and the artillery was rendered almost useless. The ground for many miles was covered with a dense growth of scrub-oak, which rendered the operations of even infantry exceedingly difficult; much of their fighting was with an invisible enemy. For the artillery there were few places that afforded an effective range, hence, as opposed to the continuous rattling of musketry, the artillery reports were feeble and intermittent. In no other battle perhaps were the startling effects of musketry volleys more marked than here, and many are living who to this day remember, and will always remember, the really unique but awful effect of an infantry volley on the night of the 5th of May. With the division of Gregg, of which our regiment was a part, we had moved away some miles from the main body of the force engaged, and after a day of watching and waiting were about preparing for rest. The sky was cloudless and starlit, and after the crash and carnage of the day, everything had subsided into the most profound quiet. The wounded left upon the field were lying too far away for us to hear their sighs and groans. Our party stretched upon the ground were just sinking into slumber, when, in the perfect silence, and without a single preliminary shot, a volley, fearful in its volume and distinctness, brought every man to his feet, tingling with an astonishment and alarm impossible to conceal. We take no heed of time on such occasions, but surely the firing could not have lasted sixty seconds, yet for the time it seemed as if ten thousand rifles were crackling in the adjoining field. Almost as suddenly as it began, the horrible clamor died away, followed by a calm as quiet and peaceful as the grave.

Subsequently it was understood that the firing came from the Federals, and was due to a real or imaginary preparation for an assault by the Confederates along certain portions of our line, and instead of being in close proximity to us, was absolutely a mile or more away. It illustrates the deceptive character of sound in the silence and darkness of night. A ludicrous sequel found expression in the frantic efforts of one poor fellow awakened thus rudely from his sleep. Completely dazed, he leaped upon the back of the nearest horse, and with shouts and kicks, and without saddle or bridle, he urged forward the equally frightened animal, who being securely tied to a stake, simply reared and plunged, quickly pitching his rider to the ground, there to regain his head at leisure.

On the following morning General Custer encountered Hampton's division, and had quite a brush, while our division (Gregg's) met Fitzhugh