SKETCHES 
 
 
 OF THE LI?E OF 
 
 CAPTAIF HUGH A. WHITE, 
 
 OF THK 
 
 STOJVEWALL BRIGADE 
 
 I<V 
 
 HIS FATHER. 
 
 COLUMBIA, S. C: 
 
 il AROLINIAN STEAM PHEHii 
 1864. 
 
George Washington Flowers 
 Memorial Collection 
 
 DUKF UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 ESTABLISHED BY THE 
 FAMILY OF 
 
 COLONEL FLOWERS 
 
SKETCHES 
 
 OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 CAPTAIN HUGH A. WHITE, 
 
 OF THE 
 
 STONEWALL BRIGADE. 
 
 BY 
 
 •HIS FATHER, 
 
 COLUMBIA, S. C: 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINIAN STEAM PRESS 
 1864. 
 
V,i5^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The people of our country appreciate the preciousness of the sacri- 
 fices by which their rights and independence are now purchasing for 
 them. One evidence of this is the eagerness of the public for all 
 memorials of their gallant dead. The appetite for such reading is 
 rational; and to gratify it, by unfolding the christian courage and 
 other graces of our young heroes, is a most timely and appropriate 
 mode of doing good. There have been more illustrious sacrifices made 
 by Virginia for the cause than that of Hugh Augustus White, but 
 none purer. His position in society and in the army was modest, 
 because of his youth ; but none were carried forward by nobler or 
 more ingenuous motives. The writer had known him from a child, 
 when visiting the hospitable and happy home of his father, and had 
 known him for the gentle, intellectual, and conscientious boy he is 
 painted by the tender but not partial hand of the author of the fol- 
 lowing sketch. In September, 1859, Hugh appeared as a young man 
 at Union Theological Seminary, to stud}^ divinity, in preparation for 
 the preaching of the gospel. He was then in person slender and 
 graceful, with a face somewhat pallid and boyish, but with a quiet 
 dignity of bearing which effectually rescued it from effeminacy. His 
 relations to his former comrades in study seemed to be peculiarly 
 cordial, and similar ties were speedily formed with his new associates. 
 It was then the writer had an opportunity to observe his character 
 more closely. And it ultimately unfolded itself as one ,pf rare intel- 
 lectual and< moral symmetry. That may be said of him which can be 
 affirmed of very few, that he was never known, during his whole 
 Seminary course, to do an act which caused pain to his instructors. 
 And if a single jar ever occurred in the christian harmony of his 
 intercourse with his equals, it was unknown to his teachers. Towards 
 his comrades there was a sweetness and spiritmility of temper which 
 
} lNTROI»t:OTION. 
 
 ' dUannod petulance itself, and sccuicd to make oflPence impossible. In 
 the performnucc of his tasks as a pupil, there was, so far a^ the writer 
 can recall, an absolute punctuality. lie was always in place, except 
 when able to ^nve a good account of his absence j and recitations were 
 always prepared, not only with respectable attention, but with tborourrh- 
 ncss. Moreover, the capacity which he displayed was of a high order. 
 Acquisition seemed to be to him easy, and yet exact. His understind- 
 injr gra-sped the most profound subjects ; his conceptions were distinct 
 and perspicuous, and his whole mind displayed the maturity of the 
 thoroughly cultivated man rather than of -the youth of nineteen. This 
 uniformity of dcTelopmcnt will appear to the thouj:htful reader in all 
 that he ha.s wiitteu. His style has the sobriety of the man rather than 
 the florid dress of youth ; his turns of thought are all natural, unam- 
 bitious, and simple. IJut the justness of his mind will be bpst appre- 
 ciated by those who have most studied the subjects which he treats. 
 Nor was there a lack of energy. He displayed none of those salient 
 extravagances of thought, expression, or conduct, by which young men 
 often securo a temporary character for genius and originality. It was 
 not because his powers were beneath them, but above them. It was 
 not because he lacked invention or originality, but because his mind 
 had already grown to a stature too manly for these ephemeral graces. 
 lILi christian character was as .strong and decided as it was sweet, and 
 HO his faculties of mind were vigorous, as well sis harmonious. 
 
 It is of such a character that we justly form the highest expecta- 
 tions, as to its future usefulness and success. Had IIUGil A. WllITK 
 lived, he would have made no startling debut in his profession, but 
 assuming at the outset an attitude of enviable respectability, he would 
 quietly, yet 'rapidly, have grown upon his brethren, and developed 
 capacities adequatu to the very highest honors of the Church. His 
 was juijt the mind to receive the highest culture, and to grow longest 
 and most happily by it. Such arc the capacities which are most valu- 
 able to the (Church and most enviable to their pos.sessors. If they 
 create less sensation at the outset, they do not neutralize a part of the 
 usefulness of their wiser years by the crude extravagancies of their 
 inexperience. 
 
 Jiut before his course of divinity was completed, his patriotism called 
 him away from Lis studies, as the reader will learn from his narrative. 
 
ENTEODUCTION. 5 
 
 The next time the writer saw him was upon the glorious field of 
 Manassas, where the young volunteer had just covered himself with 
 honor by his brilliant courage. In the gray jacket of the private he 
 was the same modest, gedtle, graceful, and unobtrusive stripling. 
 Again we met in the glorious campaign of the Valley, in 1862, when 
 he had become the captain of the Liberty Hall Volunteers. He 
 appeared a little more bronzed and robust, but in everything else he 
 was the same. Yet in all the responsibilities of discipline and danger, 
 the sweet boy-man shone forth, full of nerve, energy, and heroism. 
 The writer can also testify, from his own observation, to the elevated 
 consistency and heavenly mindedness of his christian character in 
 the camp. 
 
 The life of Hugh White, which follows, will be perceived to be 
 mainly an autobiography. His friends have judged its perusal would 
 be profitable to his former cojorades in arms and to the christian 
 public, not because of the novelty of his career, but because of the 
 forcible though quiet lessons which it teaches concerning " the beauty 
 of holiness." His story has, alas, so many counterparts, in these days 
 of heroic endeavor and costly sacrifice, that it will now read almost as 
 though it were unromantic and uneventful. He grew up in a happy 
 and refined christian home ; he was cultivated by all the arts of polite 
 learning; he was ingenuous, gentle, pure, beloved j he seemed to have 
 before him the most inviting paths of a peaceful life, garnished with 
 the sweetest flowers of learning and friendship; he heard his country's 
 oall and turned aside from those paths at the dictate of duty, sadly, 
 yet resolutely ; he endured, and fought, and died ; and now be lies 
 uncoiSned in a soldier's grave, with all the hopes and aspirations of 
 fond parents and friends forever blighted, save this chief wish, that he 
 might live and die worthily : Such is the narrative so often repeated 
 over the tombs of others of his countrymen. 
 
 But there are lessons in this short life which make us unwillin"- to 
 let his memory die. Apart of these are read in the filial and christian 
 graces which find an expression so truthful and b(*autiful in his letters. 
 Let the young man learn hero how consistent manliness is with purity 
 and tenderness. It is not rudeness, ingratitude, stubbornness against 
 parental authority, which makes the youth of spirit. On the contrary, 
 we here see a filial love as tender and pure as that of a daughter, 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 duli|;htiiig to repose with childlike simplicity upon a. mother's bosom, 
 with perfect docility and reverence lor parental authority, united to a 
 daring and manhood which mode the great Jackson lament his fall as 
 that of '' a j>crsonal friend." Let the bitizen read here a striking 
 illastration of the principles which should actuate his patriotism ; of 
 purposes formed and sacrifices made, not from ambition or love of 
 fame, but from the calm and elevated conviction of duty. Let the 
 soldier learn from such lives the ground of true courage, which is the 
 fear of God. How sublime is the determination, the fortitude of the 
 tender stripling, all unused to danger or hardship, ecnv«rted, by his 
 trust in God and devotion to .duty, into a mighty man of war. The 
 military career of such men gives a striking testimony to the justice 
 and sacrcdness of our cause. These have usually been appreciated by 
 our people directly in proportion to the purity and elevation of their 
 principles. Our enemies, when acknowledging the sincerity and 
 virtue of these martyrs to our liberties, say that a good man may, by 
 some unlucky perversion of his affections, espouse a bad cause. But, 
 we reply, how conies it that all men among us uniformly espouse our 
 cause with an ardor and decision proportioned to their excellence ? 
 Of all men. young White was least a polemic or partisan; there was 
 nothing belligereut in his temper; there was no craving for place, or 
 power, or popular applause ; every desire of his heart had turned to 
 objects of a different nature. Yet when his inquiry was made into the 
 merits of this war, in prayer and fasting, over an open IJible, with 
 eUirnity and God betfore his eyes, he wius led to the conclusion that his 
 country's quarrel was just, and that she was entitled to his arm, with a 
 force of conviction whii-h resisted the persuasions even of parental 
 love. The only explanation of such a result is in the clear righteous- 
 ness of our self-defence. Now, he who has espoused his side in this 
 way may well afford to die for it. He has counted the cost; he has 
 foreseen everything; and death is disarmed of its terrors to him. Can 
 not even the profane see, in the wrestling prayers and holy self-conse- 
 cration of that day ^cnt in fasting in his cloister, when he besought 
 God's answer to the question whether he should fight for his country, 
 the spring of the courage which bore him through so many bloody 
 fields ? 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 The crowning lesson, however, of his life, is in his symmetrical and 
 scriptural piety. In the expressions of it which he gives, all is sober, 
 yet fervent, manly, yet tender. There is no extravagance — none of the 
 cant of religious fashion. The compiler of the narrative, with admira- 
 ble judgment, has so arranged the materials as to permit the character 
 of his subject to body itself forth in its own fair proportions. Let the 
 reader look at it until he comprehends its moral beauty, and is warmed 
 and ennobled by it. Like the marble, it displays no glaring colors, but 
 all is simple, soft, and pure. Like that marble shaped by the hand of 
 genius, it presents no extravagance of proportions; its beauty and grace 
 are subdued by their very harmony, so that the ignorant or the per- 
 verted taste may pronounce it devoid of the inspiration of genius. 
 But the eye of true taste, the longer it gazes, is the more filled and 
 satisfied and elevated by its beauty. Let us consider it well, and thus 
 become "followers of them who through faith and patience have 
 inherited the promises." 
 
 ROBERT L. DABNEY. 
 
 Union Theological Seminary, Va., 
 June 15, 1863. 
 
SKETCHES. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 BIRTH, CHILDHOOD, AND YOUTH, TO THE 18tII YEAR OF HIS AGE. 
 
 Hugh A. "White was the fifth sou and the seventh child of 
 Wm. S. and Jane I. White. He was born in Charlottesville, 
 Albemarle County, Va., on the 6th of September, 1840 ; and 
 was baptized by the Rev. James Wharey, of Goochland. He 
 was so quiet and noiseless a child that his father remembers 
 less of him at that period than of any one of his children. 
 Yet he was by no means wanting in vivacity, and was rather 
 distinguishea for thoughtfnlness and intelligence. It was his 
 habit to listen with deep attention and lively interest to the 
 animated, and sometimes almost boisterous conversation of the 
 other children. If he spoke at all, it was when the conversa- 
 tion had subsided almost into silence ; and then he ordinarily 
 made some sage or humorous remark, which evinced the 
 intelligent attention he had given to all that had been said. 
 This habit followed him through life. In a sketch, hereafter 
 to be inserted, entitled " A Sick Mother's Bedside," he refers 
 to himself as the second son in the group, who " was silent, 
 but thoughtful." 
 
 His mother's recollection of him is very vivid. She says: 
 "He never gave me trouble, but was always and only a com- 
 fort to me. I not only never knew him to tell a falsehood, but 
 he did not seem to know how to equivocate. In the revelries 
 and childish contests of the nursery, he took no jiart. He 
 
'^ yL .^ kni^ it<AUjt^ Tit 
 
 !<• / RKETCHEB. .^ / • » A Cx r 
 
 would always yield rather than contend. He rarely, if ever, 
 complained of any injustice, real or supposed, on the part of 
 the other children, and I never saw him raise his hand against 
 K human bein^ or a living thing." 
 
 • He was so observant of all that passed, seemed to acquire 
 knowledge so readily from his intercourse with the older 
 children, or by listening to what passed in the parlor or his 
 father's study, that he was not put to his books at so early an 
 age as is common. He was sent to school at seven years of .a; 
 age, and at that period had bareh' learned to read. He never 
 appeared to be a hard student. What a fellow-student in the 
 Theological Seminary said of him was true from the begin- 
 ning — '' He was a successful, rather than a hard student." 
 He acquired knowledge so readily that he had no occasion to 
 linger long at a time over his l)ooks. His first and only 
 teacher in Cliarlottesvilie, th e exc ellent Mr. Thomas Wooclson, 
 was accustomed to say of him, " Give him what I may to do, 
 he seems to accom])lish it without an eflbrt." And yet he was 
 by no means idle, or neglectful of his lessons. From the time 
 he commenced going to school, he formed the habit of placing 
 his book under his pillow when he went to bed, and as soon as 
 the light of the morning permitted, he might bo seen, book in 
 hand, passing his eyes over his lesson. 
 
 He was fon<l of society, but seemed to have an ihstinctive 
 abhorrence for bad company. He entered with great anima- 
 tion into the ordinary amusemcntB of schoolboys in recess, 
 but ho never walked the streets in search of amusement ; and 
 none of the family recollect an instance in which he was 
 known tit ])articij)ate, even as an eye-witness, in scenes of 
 dissipation or mischief. The truth is, that from childhood, he 
 seemed to think that the ])roper place for the right sort of 
 recreation, and even amusement, was the i)arlor and chamber 
 over which his mother presided. He not only looked up to 
 her as his rightful ruler, but also as his best friend and choice 
 Companion. In her ordinary rounds of domestic duty — when 
 not at school — he was at her side. In a word, he studied and 
 
V\l SKETCHES. V ^ -^ ^I-VCA^^ C^ j -- 
 
 labored to lighten her burden and cheer her heart. He went 
 
 on errands for her and his sisters with the utmost cheerfulness. 
 
 When a mere child, he learned to make purchases for them of 
 
 the merchants, and thus saved them many a weary walk. 
 
 Nor was he by an}^ means a stranger in his father's stud}'. 
 
 Here he came whenever he desired, and was always a welcome 
 
 guest, for he never came to hinder, but to help. Nothing pleased : 
 
 him better tlian for his father to say to him, "My son, here 
 
 are some letters for the post-office ; or here are some tracts I 
 
 wish distributed, or some good books I wish sold." When not 
 
 more than twelve years of age he rendered efficient service as 
 
 his father's colporteur thi'ough his congregation. He would 
 
 often say, as he entered the study, " Father, don't you want 
 
 these papers and pamphlets put in order, and your books 
 
 dusted ? " At the same early age, he became very useful as a 
 
 collector for charitable and religious objects. 
 
 With such principles and linbits, it will surprise no one to 
 be told that he was never known to utter a profane expression, 
 to drink intoxicating liquors, or even to indulge in the use of 
 tobacco. 
 
 He entered tlie Freshman Class in Washington College, in 
 September, 1854, when he was just fourteen years of age. 
 As to his career in college, it is enough to say that he ranked 
 well — very wull. Tlie traits already mentioned as conspicuous 
 in early childhood were only more fully developed during liis 
 college course. He was ap])ointed tutor both of Latin and 
 Mathematics as he entered the Senior Class. He graduated -^ t^vui 
 with distinction in the eighteenth year of his age, receiving i-i w v> t- 
 one of the gold medals which are always awarded in this col- 
 lege, to the three most distinguished scholars of the graduating 
 class. * 
 
 In his Sophomore year, when just fifteen years six months 
 old, he sought connection witli the Presbyterian Cliurch, of 
 which his father was the pastor. The religious principle had 
 been implanted so quietly and developed so gradually, that 
 when asked by a member of the Session when his sjiiritual life 
 
12 SKETCUEa. 
 
 commenced, he could not answer. His parents have no recol- 
 lection of tlie period when — accordinjr to their best judi^nicnt — 
 his life was not that of a child of God. From the time he 
 could read, he loved to read of Christ, and long before that ho 
 loved to iiear of him. 
 
 He delifjhted in tlie Sal)batli Scliool ; first as a ])upil and 
 then as a teacher. Tliroui,'h life — to the period of hisenterinj^ 
 the army — he was one or the other. His last service of this 
 sort was rendered in the colored Sabbath School, connected 
 with the Ixwington Presbyterian Church, of which General 
 Thomas J. Jjckeon was the Superintendent. 
 
 Shortly after he connected himself with the Church, the 
 Ilev. Dr. Wm. .1. Hoge, then a Professor in Union Tiieol(»gical 
 Seminary, Va., made us a visit. Hugh accompanied him to 
 the Natural Bridge. A few hours after their return, he 
 entered his father's study, and said with much emotion, 
 " Father, Dr. Hoge requested me to ascertain how many of 
 the students of AVashington College are thinking seriously of 
 the ministry of the Gosi)el as their profession. 1 have done 
 bo:" and then handed me a paper containing a list of their 
 names ; and as the tears started from his eyes, said, " My 
 name is not tliere. I was afraid to ]ilace it there until I had 
 consulted you." An interview then followed never to be for- 
 gotten, after which he added his name to the list, and left the 
 study with a beaming face and elastic step. From that hour 
 his ])urposc never faltered. 
 
 Two months after graduating he took charge of a school in 
 Union, Monroe County, which he taught for a session of ten 
 months. In this enterprise he succeeded even beyond the 
 most sanguine expectations of his most partial friends. 
 
 Early in Softtember, 1859, he jiut himself irWder the care of 
 Lexington Presbytery as a candidate for tiie ministry, and 
 went with eight others — one of whom was an elder brother — 
 to T^nion Theological Seminary in Prince Edward, Va. Here 
 he 8i)ent two sessions. At the close of this ]>eriod he entered 
 the army. The northern had made war upon the southet'n 
 
6KKTCHES. * 18 
 
 portion of the United States, and the desperate work of inva- 
 sion had comnicnced. The jjious youni? student saw that his 
 native State, his home, and his loved parents were in danger, 
 and he resolved . to take part in their defence. The motives 
 that impelled him to take this step will fully appear in the 
 following pages. 
 
 To illustrate the tenderness and strength of his filial aftec- 
 tions, and the de})th of his piety at the period embraced in 
 this chapter, the following ])apers are inserted, written in the 
 BBventeenth year of his age : 
 
 "MORTALrrY OF MAN. 
 
 "Not only the tolling bell, the funeral procession, the 
 habiliments of mourning, but even the closing of the day, 
 when the evening shades are drawn as a mantle over the 
 earth, and the busy whirl of life ceases, all conspire to remind 
 us that our time on earth is limited. Some dread the quiet 
 evening hour when one's own thoughts become his only com- 
 panions, and when he is almost forced to think of his present 
 condition and future destiny. To avoid such companionship, 
 many seek to lose themselves in the sweet forgetfulness of* 
 sleep, or to find relief in laying plans of earthly gain or 
 pleasure. But to otiiers these monitors of their mortality 
 are messengers of Heaven — welcome visitors — and they are 
 never happier than when permitted 
 
 ' To 8tpal a while away 
 
 From every cumbering care ; 
 
 And spend the iiours of setting day 
 In humble, grateful prayer.' 
 
 At such times this vain world may be driven back, and the 
 devout mind may meditate with unutterable pleasure upon 
 heavenly things, and feel itself drawn inta closer fellowship 
 with a God of purity and love. In such a frame as this, no 
 thoughts are so welcome as those of death, a future state, an 
 endless eternity. True, death sunders many tender ties, but 
 the tenderest and best of all it does not break, but ratlier 
 
14 ^ t.KETCIIE8. 
 
 gtrcnpllicns — I mean that which unites him witli tlie throne 
 of God. 
 
 " Amid tlie tnrmoil of lifo, wc are apt to forget wliat a cahn 
 haven awaits our souls, in which we shall enjoy perpetual 
 poAce. 'Tis the hope of this liaven which cheers my weary 
 fcpirit, and brightens my darkest hours. From that haven 
 there comes a light as bright and constant as the God from 
 whom it emanates. T^ook wliich way else I may, all is dark 
 and uncertain. But looking to the heavenly hills, I lind a 
 ])eace the world can neither give nor take away." 
 
 " A mother's sick bed. 
 
 "Tlie prayer-bell had ruwj:, and a father, with a daughter 
 and three sons had assembled for morning worship. But one 
 was absent from that little group. The i>ious mother lay in 
 her chamber, on a bed of sickness. The door opening from 
 the chamber into the father's study, in which famil}- wor- 
 ship was conducted, was partly open, that the mother might 
 particijfate with the lather and the children in this delightful 
 service. The father led in the singing, and then with deep 
 'solemnity, opening the Book of God, read a portion of its 
 Bacred teachings. Then turning to the eldest of the three 
 sons — just entering upon manhood — requested him to lead in 
 ]>raver. They bowed the knee with, perhaps, unusual so- 
 lemnity, because a son and brother was to pray, and because 
 God's afflictive hand deprived them of the mother's presence. 
 The voice of the son faltered for a time, but his heart soon 
 warmed, and his tongue became lluent, as he prayed that our 
 heaN-enly Father would stay his afflictive hand and restore the 
 sick mother to her accustomed place in that family circle. 
 The j)rayer was simple but appro])riate. it abounded in apt 
 (juotations of Scripture, and seemed to flow from a heart tilled 
 with love to that mother, and with solicitude for her recovery. 
 
 "When the service closed, the three sons withdrew to that 
 mother's bedside to inquire for her health. The tears still 
 stood in her eyes, evincing the depth and tenderness of her 
 
SKETCHES. 15 
 
 feclinp^s. She had heard that prayer, and tears of gratitude to 
 God flowed freely from that mother's eyes. She could not 
 restrain this expression of her feelings oil an occasion so 
 solenm and so tender. The inquiries for her health were 
 answered, and every tongue was silent. But soon that mother 
 must speak, and addressing the eldest, she said, ' My son, I 
 thank you for that prayer. It is the first time I ever heard a 
 child of mine pray for me. I could bnt say, when your 
 prayer was ended, God bless my son.' ' May both of our 
 prayers be answered, mother,' was the appropriate reply of 
 the son. A love then glowed in the hearts of that little circle, 
 unknown to the world. The mother then spoke of her death, 
 and the hearts of her sons were stirred to their lowest depths. 
 She touched a deep and tender chord — no other than that 
 which binds the hearts of children to affectionate and pioiis 
 parents. The thought of the severing of that chord was ter- 
 rible. She next spoke of her uselessness, and said perhaps it 
 would be best for her to be removed out of the way of others. 
 To this the youngest of the three sons — about twelve years of 
 age — replied with surprise and emotion, ' Mother, you are very 
 useful;' and went on with boyish eloquence to point out the 
 ways in which she had always been so to all around her. At 
 this the mother's countenance glowed with a radiance which 
 bespoke the depth and tenderness of her emotions, and a smile 
 of approbation passed over her kind face all bedewed with 
 tears. Tlu second son was silent^ hut tJwughtful. The mother 
 recovered from her sickness, but never shall that scene pass 
 from the minds and hearts of those who witnessed it. May 
 the God of that father and motlier be the God of all their 
 children, and continue to answer in the future, as IIo has iu 
 the past, their prayers for each other." 
 
1 SKETCHK8. 
 
 '' A rHAYKU, 
 
 Su^gf/fUd hy Ilehi'cwB 7, 25 : * Tic u ahle to save to the 
 uttcnnost^^ die. 
 
 " Heavenly Father, I thank tlice for this truth. If it were 
 not for this, I must be lost ; but with it, I will not despair, but 
 liopc to be saved. I know that by nature I am totally 
 depraved and utterly undone. And the new nature begotten 
 within me, as I hoj)e, by the Holy Spirit, is very defective. 
 Yet Christ has provided a complete salration by which every 
 moral want of my fallert nature may be sup})lied, if I only 
 come arij^ht to Him. Opjiressed, therefore, with a sense of 
 my sins, panting to be freed from their guilt and pollution, I 
 come to thee, O Saviour, and cast myself just as I am on 
 thee and thee alone : 
 
 * Other refuge have I none, 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee.' 
 
 Blessed Jesus ! I do remember and now ])lead before thee 
 thine own pronn'se, not to cast out any who come to God 
 through thee ; and the truth uttered by thy servant, as thou 
 didst inspire and commission him to utter, that thou art able 
 to save to the uttermost, I do accept as divinely true, and 
 thus may I be delivered, and enabled to rejoice in God, my 
 Saviour." 
 
 These are specimens of his earliest productions, and are 
 inserted ehieily for the sake of those who delude themselves 
 with the thought that they are too young to love and serve 
 the Saviour. From a very early age he was cool, methodical, 
 and persistent in whatever he undertook. His movements 
 were brisk, but never had the appearance of luivrv. What ho 
 did was always done thoroughly. 
 
 In the sixteenth year of his age, and at the close of his 
 Sophomore year in college, he was appointed by the Com- 
 mittee of Lexington Presbyter}' |;o supply a portion of Rock- 
 bridge County with the tracts and books of the Board of 
 
Publication. In this service he spent his vacation, and was 
 verj' successful. The account he kept of the places visits, 
 and the books sold or given away, illustrates his character for 
 methodical industry, promptitude, and perseverance. He 
 omitted nothinf;; in his memoranda which could serve to place 
 his work full}?^ before the Committee. The titlp, the price, and 
 the name of the purchaser of each book is distinctly stated. 
 During his first day's ride, he says: "1 went to Major Hutton's, 
 but he had gone to dine with a neighbor. Being alone, unac- 
 quainted with the people, and unaccustomed to my work, I 
 felt terribly lonesome and longed to be at home. I went in 
 search of the Major, and receiving encouragement from him, 
 journeyed down the creek in better spirits. I stopped at the 
 house of Mr. C, and sold him one Confession of Faith for 37-| 
 cents. Much obliged to him.'''' This was the first book he 
 sold, and the concluding sentence exhibits his pleasure at the 
 event, and also the childlike amiability of his dispositioif. 
 
 lie mentions selling three books to a man, and adds: "I 
 foolishly threw in a little cheap book which many others 
 might have received with equal profit, who were not able to 
 pay for it." 
 
 Another entry is as follows : " Stopped at a very neat house. 
 The family were poor, but pious— seemed well supplied with 
 books — gave no excuse for not buying, but Jioj)ed I would n't 
 he discouraged^ 
 
 " One man said to me, don't want any — got more now than I 
 can read." 
 
 " How often I have discovered that I must not judge of the 
 sense or goodness of people by their outward ap]>earance." 
 
 In closing his account of liis first expedition, he says : " I 
 greatly fear I have not enough of tlie Christian spirit while 
 ministering to the spiritual wants of others." 
 
 In liis second tour, he sa^s : " I gave to a very poor woman 
 Baxter's Call. Slie said, 'I will keep this book forever. I 
 mean as long as I live.' " 
 8 
 
lb • SKETOHES. 
 
 " I called at a house near . The lady said she pre- 
 
 fqpred Iniyiii*:: a good novel; that it was almost iinpussible for 
 her to fix her attention on a religious book. I urged her to 
 purchase — strove to convince her of the evil of much novel 
 reading. Whereupon she agreed that I might sell some hooks 
 to her husband, if he thought }>roper to buy. (Very dutiful 
 wife, methought.) So I called on her husbaud to buy, and 
 sold him three books, including Baxter's Call." 
 
 " Having only eight books on hand, I turued my face home- 
 wardsj expecting to sell them by the way. How thankful I 
 ought to 1)0 that I have a home. How many are destitute 
 both of an earthly and a heavenly place of rest. I profess to 
 liavc both, and often sin by attaching more consequence to 
 that which is earthly than to that which is heavenly. May 
 my heavenly home become dearer, the nearer I come to it." 
 
 After reaching home he wrote as follows : 
 
 "]^fy third ex]>editiou as colporteur has ended, and I have 
 learned that tliere is far more sin in the world than professing 
 Christians seevi to suppose. I see clearl}'' that I enjoy many 
 advantages for which I am not thankful. I have received ten 
 talents, and of me much will be recpiired. Lord, bless my 
 feeble efforts, overrule all my errors, and pardon all my sins 
 for thine own glory. Enable me, in whatsoever state I am, 
 therewith to be content. I have not yet been opposed in my 
 work. I have not had one hard word spokeu against me by 
 an enemy of God, in Avhich I might glory as suffered for 
 Christ's sake. And if I do meet with this, or worse, may I 
 not complain, but rather glory in suffering for that Saviour 
 who suffered so much for me." 
 
 Having secured a fresh supply of books from the depository 
 in Lexington, he went forth again. 
 
 A visit he made to Rev. Dr. Ramsey, now of Lynchburg, 
 then of New Monmouth, is chiefly worthy of notice. 
 
 He says : " I called at Rev. Mr. Ramsey's, and he bought 
 several of niy books. I dined witli him, and although I had 
 promised Maj. Hutton to return and spend the Sabbath with 
 
SKETCHES. 19 
 
 him, I concluded to remain with Mr. Rcimsey, in the hope of 
 learning much from liim wliich may be useful to me in after 
 life. On Sabbatli afternoon I went with him to a school-house, 
 where he did not preach a sermon, but lectured on the 2d chap, 
 of Ephesians. The three topics he discussed were : 
 
 " 1. The condition of man by nature. 
 
 " 2. The means of restoration from that condition. 
 
 " 3. The benefits bestowed on those thus restored." 
 
 After a full analysis of tlie wliole lecture he adds : " This is 
 the sort of preaching I like, andVhich must be most useful. 
 Trul}' this preacher's heart is in his Master's service. "Would 
 that mine were more so. This has been a ver}^ pleasant Sab- 
 bath. How could it be otherwise, spent as it was with such a 
 man. May the number of such be greatly increased." 
 
 This sketch of Dr. Ramsey's lecture, written as it obviously 
 was in great haste, with a bad pencil, and extended over 
 several pages of his memorandum bopk, exhibits uncommon 
 maturity of mind and heart in a boy only sixteen years of age. 
 
 One entry, quite in contrast with the foregoing, must be 
 noted : 
 
 "I came to 's distillery. After knocking sometime 
 
 for admittance, and being refused, threw some tracts on tem- 
 perance through the window and left." 
 
 The concluding sentence in his book is this : " And now I 
 have scattered the books, but without the blessing of €rod no 
 good will result." 
 
 He frequently notes as many as seventeen or eighteen visits, 
 and once as many as twenty-three in one day. When the 
 ruggedncss of a large portion of Rockbridge is remembered, 
 tliis amount of labor will appear great. But he lost no time. 
 He wasted no words in a]iproaching his object. But a cordial 
 salutation — and his manner was very cordial — would be fol- 
 lowed at once by an announcement of his business. This 
 being accomplished, lie took his departure. He never waited 
 for dinner, liowcver pressing might be the invitation to do so. 
 He only ate if lie found the food on the table when he arrived. 
 
20 SKBTCHK8. 
 
 Many such facts as these were subsequently communicated to 
 liis father by the kind iieo]>lo among whom his ''' paU-faced 
 hoy^"' as one good old lady called him, labored as a colporteur. 
 Nothing could possibly be more consolatory to the heart of a 
 father, grieving for the loss of a loved son, than such testimo- 
 nials of the esteem in which that son was held by the people 
 of God, May their kindness to him be rewarded in blessings 
 n])on their own children. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 niS liKSIDENCE LN UKION. — CORRESPONDENCK. ESSAYS FROM SEP- 
 TEMBER, 1858 TO JUL"!?, 1859. — the IQth year of his age. 
 
 After his graduation he resolved to teach, that he might pro- 
 vide for himself the means of prosecuting his studies for the 
 ministry. For this ])urpose he secured a situation as principal 
 of a clas^cal school in Union, the county seat of Monroe 
 county, Virginia. He was received and treated by tiie intelli- 
 gent and hosjtitable ])eoj)le of that village with a cordiality 
 whicli J)ound iiim to them l)y ties of the warmest, purest 
 friendship. To the hour of liis death he delighted to speak of 
 tho kind friends he found, and the happy days he spent in 
 Union. , 
 
 He commenced his school September 6, 1858, the very day 
 on which he was eighteen years of age. 
 
 Soon after assuming the responsibilities of this new position, 
 lie wrote to a friend a\id coUege^.classmate as follows : 
 
 " It is a great pleasure to spend one's Saturdays in Commun- 
 ing with absent friends. College friendships are apt to be 
 short lived. But they do much to give form and direction to 
 our future lives, and should be cherished as great blessings, 
 
SKETCHES. 21 
 
 when tliey have been such as were formed between some of 
 our class. Our friendship, I think, was based upon our love 
 for the Saviour, and hence, if we arc not false to our profession 
 of faith in Him, we shall be friends forever. Yes, my liope 
 is that our present youthful attachment will not be transitory, 
 but lasting as our spirits themselves. 
 
 "As to my income, my chief concern is that by teaching two 
 years I niay,make enough to defray my expenses through [the 
 Theological Seminary. I hope to be there in two years, and 
 how liappy I should be if I could meet with you and others 
 of our class in that school, to revive the scones — yet more 
 sacred — of college life. Several of my pupils are much older 
 and larger than myself. I find great difficulty in tempering 
 justice with mercy — in being firm yet kind. It is liard to 
 stimulate the idle and restrain the vicious. This is my aim. 
 How far I fail none can be more conscious than myself. But 
 every one has to learn his trade. 
 
 " ' Experience is a deai» school, but' — you know the rest. 
 Excuse me for not giving you advice as to the economizing of 
 your time, for I greatly need advice from others on that 
 point." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " Your letter was a real treat. It seemed to me as I read 
 that you were talking to me. How delightful are these free 
 utterances of tlie heart, where friend opens freely to friend the 
 inner recesses of his bosom. When this freedom of friendship 
 is sanctified by true religion, its purity, intensity, anH sweet- 
 ness are increased ten fold. When our love for each other is 
 hallowed by our love for Christ, and we- fire enabled to see, 
 admire, and love His image in each other, then may we hope 
 that our friendship will not vanish with our youth, but abide 
 and grow forever. 
 
 " Rev, John Newton's letters, or as they are termed Cardv- 
 phonia., or heart utterances, are superior to anything of tlie 
 kind I have ever read, and their excellence seems to result 
 
22 SKETCHES. 
 
 from Ill's intimate acquaintance witli his own heart and his 
 freedom in cxpressini; his feeh'ngs. 
 
 "Your letter breathed a spirit in the hic^liest dcfrree c^ratifv- 
 ing, and at tlie same time administered a gentle rebuke to my 
 own sluggish soul. Though at times doubts and fears disturb 
 my spirit, yet this is sinful. We must trust in the Lord and 
 do good, ever remembering that ' he doeth all things well.' 
 Why should we care if the world goes ill with ^s, provided 
 only God's purposes are carried out and his glory promoted ? 
 
 " When do you expect to go to the Seminary, or is it your 
 purpose to go at all ? I feel sure that the leading desire of 
 your heart is to see the glory of God promoted through the 
 advancement of the Saviour's kingdom in the world. Whether 
 you regard the ministry, as the profession by which these great 
 objects can be the most fully attained, I know not. If you do, 
 there can be no doubt, and should be no hesitation in yoitr 
 mind, as to the course to be taken. Then nuiy you see the 
 path and hear the command. Go forward. It would be a great 
 pleasure to spend my serninaiy life with you and others of our 
 class. May the Spirit of God unite our hearts in christian 
 love, ever increasing, till we meet in heaven to unite tliere 
 in the jjraiscs of our adorable Redeemer." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " It is Friday night, and I have just returned from our 
 M'eekly prayer meeting, and the service has inclined me to 
 hold communion with my absent friends. My spiritual condi- 
 tion for*several days past has been one of gloom and heavi- 
 ness. My heart has been dead to all spiritual things. Prayer 
 has seemed but thePim willing performance of a required diity, 
 and not the outgushing of a penitent, grateful heart. But I 
 doubt not the light of Heaven will again dawn. Christ will' 
 not utterly forsake. He sometimes seems to be buried, as He 
 was to the disciples after His crucifixion ; but He arose then 
 from the tomb, and their hearts burned within them as He 
 talked with them by the way. So, I trust, He will rise to shed 
 
SKETCHES. 23 
 
 light and joy and peace upon iny path. He is even now wait- 
 ing to be gracious. 
 
 ' lovely attitude, lie stands 
 
 With^nelting heart and bleeding hands.' 
 
 « 
 
 " Let doubts then be banished, and let our faith be firm. 
 lie is very gracious. Though we so often neglect Ilim, He loves 
 us still, and will love us to the end. Though all else forsake, 
 He is our refuge now, and will be our portion forever." 
 
 THE WOUNDED BOY. 
 
 " I have to-day visited the bedside of one of my scholars 
 who was wounded by the accidental discliarge of a rifle. I 
 had reason to fear, from what I had heard, that his waund was 
 mortal, and on entering the room in which he lay, covered 
 with his own blood, and his face almost deadly pale, I thought 
 I had come to see him die. My conscience, faithful monitor, 
 instantly rebuked me for neglect of duty in not having striven 
 as I ought for his conversion and fitness for death. My 
 tlioughts instinctively turned to eternity. What if that -soul 
 should be called unprepared into the presence of its judge. 
 O, should he die, how terrible the fall. Such reflections are 
 'too painful forme.' But 1 rejoiced soon .to learn that my 
 scholar's life was really not in much danger. The command, 
 to all appearance, had gone forth, ' Cut it down, why cumber- 
 eth it the ground.' But the Saviour's intercession, ' Sj^are it 
 yet a little longer,' prevailed, and we may hope that the angels 
 of God may yet rejoice over this soul converted from sin unto 
 salvation. 
 
 " Such a dispensation of Providence is full of instruction. 
 It surely admonishes jiis that in the midst of life we are in 
 death. I would have my soul awake to this truth, both with 
 respect to myself and those around me. Could i only keep 
 my latter end in view, such inconsistencies of conduct would 
 not so often give me pain. Then I might be more holy, and 
 walk all the day long in the fear of my God. Lord, help me 
 
Hi SKETCHES. 
 
 thus to live, and then let death come when it may, It cannot 
 6ur])rise me. Then wlicn tliou shalt call me from earthly 
 scenes, I shall be prepared tu answer thy call, and enter upon 
 that rest which Christ both purchased andJ^estows." 
 
 THOUGHTS ON PREPARATION FOR THE MINISTRY. 
 
 " My spirit longs to be engaged in tlie duties of the holy 
 ministry. Yet its responsibilities fill me with fear lest I should 
 enter uj)on the work unprepared, and so bring disgrat'e upon 
 a cause which, if my heart does not deceive me, I desire above 
 all tilings to promote. There is something of mere romance 
 in the thought of being instrumental in the salvation of souls — 
 of being engaged as an instrument in the conversion of the 
 world. The 'contemplation of the perishing condition of the 
 heathen — of a perishing world — may move one to tears. He 
 feels that it would be sweet to offer up his life, if need be, in 
 so glorious a cause. These feelings are, of course, pro])er in 
 themselves; but it may be questioned Avhether they are 
 unattLMided with evil. In this world-wide philanthropy, the 
 individual suffering around liim may be forgotten ; and while 
 he weeps over the perishing heathen, he may be too indifferent 
 to the condition of the souls perishing around him. 
 
 " Here I find great danger. All romance must be banished, 
 as well as all self-reliance. 
 
 " The work of the ministry must be considered as a sober 
 reality, affecting all classes of people everywhere. Great 
 ol>«tacles are to be mot and overcome in this most responsible 
 and laborious as well as honorable profession. In view of all 
 this I ask, what am I that I should be exalted to be the minis- 
 ter of God, the guide of Ilis ])eople, an example to the flock, 
 and a standing reproof to the world by my life ? Hence in 
 seeking to enter on this work, I must greatly fear. 
 
 " While my mind struggles to grasp the awful truth that the 
 M'hole world lieth in sin, I mast strive to think of those who 
 are perishing abroad, and of those who are perishing at my 
 side. If I am to enter the ministry from right motives, I must 
 
SKETCHES. 
 
 25 
 
 evince it by laboring for those now around me. When I 
 remember that ' as is the boy, so is the man,' I fear lest my life 
 should be a blank— that I shall fail to accomplish tlie end of 
 my being. Lord, grant that this may not be my unhappy 
 
 case. 
 
 " Such are my alternate hopes and fears. Yet remembering 
 tliat such fears are the result of unbelief in the promises of 
 God, I would take the solemn step of dedicating myself to 
 thy service, O Lord, trusting to thy promised help. It is,;>I 
 think, the ruling desire of my heart to prtach the unsearch- 
 able riches of Christ to a sinful world. That this is the path 
 of duty seems very plain, and I would not strive with my 
 Maker nor oppose His will. Since, j^rod has indicated this to 
 be His will, and has implanted in my heart such a desire to 
 preach His gospel, though countless dangers environ my path, 
 and in myself I am nothing but weakness and sin— relying 
 upon the help of an ever present God— I would now devote 
 myself to the , holy ministry, saying as I do so, in the deep 
 consciousness of my own weakness : 
 
 ♦ Here, Lord, I give myself away, 
 'Tis all that I can do.'" 
 
 The spirit here displayed characterized his whole subsequent 
 life. From the hour of this solemn covenant he sought, he 
 labored, he rejoiced, to do good. 
 
 " MOTHER. 
 
 " What name has more thrilling associations than that of 
 mother ? From her we learned first to lisp a yet dearer name. 
 By her watchful care were we kept from harm. Through 
 many a dark night she watched our couch with tearful eyes, 
 and without weariness she was swift to minister to every want, 
 and, by sweet and almost insensible influences she drew us 
 from the ways of sin and led our feet into paths of righteous- 
 ness and peace. Before our minds could grasp their meaning, 
 simple formularies were ^xed in our memories which should 
 4 
 
26 SKETCHES. 
 
 afterwards prove lights to guide our steps aright. Awake, she 
 tanght us; and asleep, her form iDcnt over us while in prayer 
 she commended us to God. Those secret prayers were heard 
 by none but God. Tliey were such prayers as none but a 
 mother can offer or God can hear. When ministering angels 
 hovered over us during the unconscious moments of sleep, the 
 ministrations of our mothers have been mingled with theirs. 
 
 " And are these prayers lost because not known to men ? 
 No, they are preserv^ed, and so surely as God is ' the God of 
 the Covenant,' so surely are we now the recipients of the 
 blessings they sought in our behalf. 
 
 " And then they led ns morning and evening to the family 
 altar, and taught our infant lips to lisp the name of 'Our 
 Father, which art in Heaven.' 
 
 " And when the first fruits of this untiring vigilance ap- 
 peared, how gladly did they clasp their new born children in 
 their arms, and praise the Lord who had heard their prayers. 
 
 " And if the influences of domestic piety are resisted, until 
 without a mother's instruction and a father's guiding hand the 
 son must go forth to enter alone upon the duties of life, who 
 can estimate the influence, though nnseen, that a mother's 
 instruction and example still exert. She follows him through 
 the course of every day, and in every temptation her prayers 
 surround him like a shield. These prayers attend the sailor 
 boy through the trackless sea and move her God to command 
 the waves to be still, and the tempest becomes a calm. The 
 son's lips refuse to utter the name of his Maker profanely, 
 because he remembers that it is the name of his mother's God. 
 Her bright example too, though not now seen, is remembered, 
 and by it 
 
 ' She allures to brighter worlds and leads the way.' 
 
 And if that mother dies before her son has learned to call her 
 Saviour ' my Lord and my God,' he is not left alone. A ten- 
 derer heart even than a mother's loves him, and an almighty 
 arm is engaged in his support. 
 
SKETCHES. 27 
 
 " Thougli lie may wander far from the way pointed out by 
 liis motlier, tliougli lie may fall into excess of dissipation and 
 riot, his case is not hopeless. A covenant-keeping God will 
 not forget the prayers of his people. How many witnesses are 
 there to this in the history of the Church. And how many 
 now live who can testify that had not the gentle hand of a 
 mother restrained and guided, while her lips instructed and 
 her heart prayed for them, they might now be stumbling on 
 the dark mountains of sin, on the broad road to an eternal 
 hell." ♦ 
 
 His early and sudden death gives importance and even 
 sacredness to the thoughts embodied in the following fragment 
 found among his papers. And as a beautiful foreshadowing of 
 his present exalted and happy state it is inserted. 
 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 "It is a sad proof of the total depravitj^ of our race by 
 nature, that we think of Heaven with so much insensibility. 
 In fact the natural man sees nothing beautiful in it. Its pearly 
 gates and golden streets, its holiness and its happiness, pos- 
 sess no attractions, and they are readily dismissed as subjects 
 of thought for things secular and perishable. A Avicked heart 
 and wicked world are so adapted to each other that the latter 
 attracts the former as the loadstone attracts the needle. 
 
 "The christian too, though 'born again,' often bemoans the 
 dullness with which he contemplates the high truths of his 
 religion. At times he may catch a glimpse of the glories in 
 store for him, and his spirit exults as he turns from the sins 
 and sorrows on earth to the purity and bliss of Heaven. But 
 these times are brief as they are precious. For one such 
 thrill of joy there are many days of sorrow. But even a half 
 hour of intimate communion with heavenly objects is cher- 
 ished in the memory as an unusual and highly prized favor. 
 This disproportion between the christian's times o'f joy and of 
 sorrow, results in part from his not wisely using the means 
 
28 SKETCHES. 
 
 W'itliin Ills roach of rising, as it were, upon the wings of faith, 
 and looking into the upper sanctuary. If we would only close 
 our eyes upon the objects of sin, and seek by faith in what 
 God has taught us, to join the assembly of the redeemed in 
 Heaven, many moments now spent in dullness, or actual grief, 
 would become times of highest, purest joy. Sounds seraphic 
 would fill our ears, and the joy of communion with our 
 Saviour now, and the anticipation of the time when faith shall 
 be exchanged for sight, and hope for fruition, would fill our 
 hearts with holy rapture. Nothing endears a friend to us so 
 much as to cherish the remembrance of him, though absent, 
 and often to hold intercourse with him in thought. Nothing 
 makes us so anxious to revisit the home from which we have 
 been separated, as to think of those who compose the family 
 circle, and of the jo^ys which abound there. Nor will an}'- 
 thing so excite our desire for Heaven, or our joy in expecta- 
 tion of soon partaking of its bliss, as to become familiar, in a 
 manner, with its scenes. The thought that we shall very soon 
 belong to that number who surround the throne of God in 
 Heaven, washed from all our sins and clothed in the pure robe 
 of Christ's righteousness, singing without weariness songs of 
 praise to the Lamb forever, should excite the highest rapture 
 of which the soul is now capable. Jesus is there, and we shall 
 ' see him as he is.' Friends whom we loved most tenderly, and 
 who have preceded us, are there. Christ has carried them 
 safely through ' the valley of the shadow of death,' and they 
 are now safe and happy in the arms of Ilim above, whom we 
 now love and seek to serve on earth. Never do we enjoy, 
 even for a moment, fellowship with that Saviour and feel our 
 hearts burn within us, as he talks to us by the way, that we 
 do not come sensi1)ly nearer to tluim. The same Jesus whom 
 they are praising in sweet strains of heavenly music is carry- 
 ing us every day through the snares that beset our way. 
 Their hearts, which once beat with warm love for us here, have 
 ceased to beat on earth, and hence we mourn. But those 
 spirits, now freed from all the trammels of sense and sin, shall 
 
SKETCHES. 29 
 
 never cease to beat with love and joy at tlie bare mention of 
 tlie Saviour's name. Soon too — Ucaven-born thought — we 
 shall join them. Satan shall not always be permitted to tempt 
 lis, nor sin forever to disturb our peace. It now lies like a 
 heavy burden, or as a chain of steel it binds us to tliis perish- 
 able earth. But the same Jesus who ' came to preach liberty 
 to the captives,' shall proclaim liberty to our fettered souls, 
 and we shall be borne by angels to the bosom of our God and 
 Saviour. And it has often seemed to me one of the sweetest 
 thoughts in contemplating the joy of the christian in glory, 
 that never for a moment shall he become weary. Here we 
 rejoice for a short time in a sense of forgiveness, and tlien sink 
 under a sense of sin. But there the very name of sin, as well 
 #,s its nature, will be forgotten, and without even an effort we 
 shall both serve God and enjoy Him forever. As tliere will 
 .be no weariness, and of course no need of rest, ' there shall be 
 no night there,' but ' sacred, high, eternal noon.' There can 
 be no sorrow there, for Christ's own lia'nd shall wipe all tears 
 away. In a word, every element of the purest happiness now 
 known shall be there immeasurably increased, and, made as 
 enduring as the throne of God, sliall be enjoyed forever." 
 
 In committing such thoughts to paper he was accustomed to 
 spend a portion of each day when not occupied witli the 
 duties of his school. His friends are thus furnished with an 
 ample explanation of his habitual serenity and even joyous- 
 iiess. Few have ever enjoyed so uninterrupted a flow of 
 pleasurable emotions. Never frivolous, but always cheerful. 
 Or-^f ever sad, it was only during one of those brief seasons of* 
 spiritual depression to which he sometimes alludes. 
 
 During his residence as a teacher in Monroe he wrote to his 
 friend and classmate thus : 
 
 " Union, March 19, 1859. 
 
 "Dear R.: This is Saturday and I know you are glad. 'Re- 
 joice with them that do rejoice.' 1 am glad of course, though 
 
30 SKETCHES. 
 
 the busy employment of the week seems to make the tune roll 
 by so rapiilly that I do not rejoice at the approacli of this 
 holiday as formerly. Monday morning and Friday afternoon 
 seem nearer to each other now than ever before. Vexations 
 will arise, but there is nothing like keeping one's self cool. If 
 fretfulness get the control, peace and happiness are fled for- 
 ever. We must learn to control ourselves before we can hope 
 to control others. I certainly would not teach now if it were 
 not necessary. There is a higher end which can only be at- 
 tained by working now to procure the necessary means. The 
 ministry, by God's help, is to be my profession for life, and if 
 I am now M'orking to get into it, this is but child's play com- 
 pared with the ceaseless watchings and prayers, the ever 
 active vigilance for God, the Cliurch, and the souls of men, foi^ 
 which that sacred profession calls. 
 
 " The vast responsibilities of this oflice seem to frighten you 
 and prevent your attempting them. Think of these two 
 passages : ' My yoke ds easy and my burden liglit ; ' ' Lo, I 
 am with you always, even to the end of the world.' Tliese 
 passages seem connected together as cause and effect. The 
 truth of the former seems to flow directl}' from that in the 
 latter. "Without these promises none could preach, but with 
 them the weakest may. 
 
 "I received a long letter from D. B. lately. He must have 
 an uncommonly good set of boys to manage, as he never says 
 anything about their misbehavior. He will preach, I think. 
 He manifests a willing mind, and a desire to go and do what 
 God bids. S. S. says he hasn't brains, and writes bitter things 
 * against himself. He has been trying to make sermons. He 
 takes a text, and studies to divide it into heads, but can majce 
 neither Uead nor tail of it, and very illogically concludes that 
 he never will be able to preach. If all reasoned thus there 
 would be a far greater scarcity of preachers than there is now. 
 None of us ever can preach of ourselves, but God can preach 
 through us. Tlie trumpet may lie for ages without giving 
 forth the slightest sound, but the trumpeter can, Mnth it, rouse 
 
SKETCHES. 31 
 
 to action sleeping millions. So God can, through us, wake to 
 life multitudes now spiritually dead, or, as the good old Afri- 
 can preaclier said, ' God can strike a straight blow witli a 
 crooked stick.' " 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " I wrote you a short letter this morning, but feel as if I had 
 not said all I wished. Last Sabbath, the sacrament of the 
 Lord's Supper was observed in our church at home, and it was 
 my endeavor — yea, my joy, though far away — to participate 
 in that feast, by seeking more intimate communion, in spirit, 
 both with them and with God. The occasion, as the third 
 anniversary of my connection witli the church, was %vell cal- 
 culated to move the hardest heart. But, strange to say, though 
 our pastor, the Kev.' Mr. Houston, preached an excellent ser- 
 mon, dullness of spirit oppressed me through the day. So 
 God willed, and instead of pouring out my heart in lively 
 gratitude and heartfelt repentance, I S])ent the day far from 
 God, mourning over the depravity of my heart and the utter 
 helplessness and wretchedness of my condition, and I trembled 
 lest my soul should yet be lost. My sins seemed to grow 
 heavier and heavier, and my heart harder and harder, until I 
 sunk upon my knees, when my heart "seemed to melt. Christ 
 was with me. He was revealed as my Saviour. He took my 
 load of guilt, ^and now instead of despair, hope cheered my 
 drooping spirit. I could heartily sing 
 
 ' But while I thus in anguish lay, 
 The gracious Saviour passed this way, 
 And felt hia pity move.' 
 
 He heard my cry and helped me. I wept for joy. He was 
 surely revealed to me that night as precious. It is a time long 
 to be remembered. And yet such is the depravity of this 
 nature, that if God does not sustain me I shall speedilj' fall 
 into sin again. When shall wc be free from the body of this 
 death ? It seemed to me that Sabbath night, while I lay 
 
32 8KETCHE8. 
 
 weeping before God, if tliere was anything hateful to me in 
 all the world, it was sin. But liow often since have I sinned. 
 And if it were not for the grace of God I should plunge into 
 the greatest and vilest of sins. 
 
 ' You who love the Lord, indeed, 
 Tell me, is it so with you ? ' 
 
 I sometimes feel when I lie down upon my bed, and God 
 grants me a lively hope of acceptance with him, how sweet it 
 would be then to breathe out my soul into the arms of my 
 Saviour, and pass immediately frt)m the sins and sorrows of 
 this life to the holiness and glory of the next. I then seem to 
 court death. These are precious moments. Yet patience 
 must have its perfect work. When God calls, I hope to go 
 rejoicing. Until he calls, I await patiently his coming. 
 
 "This letter is taken up entirely about myself. I wish it 
 were not. Pride will mingle with our thoughts, though they 
 be about our sins. Yerily our whole nature is corrupt. But 
 ' the blood of Christ cleanseth us from all sin.' It is getting 
 late and I must close. May God guide us by his counsel, and 
 afterwards receive us both to glory, is ever the prayer of 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 HUGH A. WHITE." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AT HOME AND IN THE SEMINARY FKOM JULY, 1859, TO MAY, 1861. 
 
 When he went to Union, he expected to teach two years, 
 and such had been his success as a teacher when the first year 
 ended, that he was urged to remain, and flattering proposals 
 were made to him at other places. But his father had made ar- 
 rangements by which the necessity for his teaching longer was 
 
SKETCHES. 33 
 
 removed, and the \va^ opened for his going, at once, to the 
 Seminary. He accordingly came home, determined to spend 
 the two months which intervened before the commencement 
 of the next term, in preparation for a step which to him seemed 
 so solemn and so sacred. Ile^entered afresh into the considera- 
 tion of a call to the ministry. On this subject he read, and 
 thought, and prayed. During this period he wrote as follows": 
 
 "Home, July 18, 18591 
 
 " It is now my purpose to enter, next September, upon a 
 course of preparation for the ministry. I have formed thia 
 purpose after much reflection and praj^er. It is therefore 
 proper, and may be profitable, to spend a day in formally 
 dedicating myself to this work. This I now attempt to do, 
 and also record the reasons which impel me to take a step so 
 solemn and so responsible." 
 
 These reasons he then records at great length. But as most 
 or all of them occur in his letters, they are omitted here. He 
 then concludes as follows — in a measure, summing up the 
 whole : 
 
 "The sum of the matter, with me, is this. Tlie Lord is my 
 God. My duty to Him is superior to every other duty. The 
 promotion of his glory is the chief end of my being. If I 
 know my own heart, my ruling desire is to spend my life in 
 that way which will most effectually attain this end. For 
 years past the ministry has appeared to be that way. I cannot 
 doubt that the Spirit of God, applying the word of God to my 
 heart and conscience, indicates this to be the divine will con- 
 cerning me. 
 
 "Tlie more I reflect upon the duties required, and my own 
 utter inability to discharge those duties aright, the more over- 
 whelming does the work appear. I can only give myself to 
 the Lord Jesus Christ, relying wholly on his promise, ' Lo ! I 
 am with you always, even unto the end of the world.' 
 
 " In obedience, therefore, to the command, and iu reliance 
 upon the promise of God, I go forward, praying that he would 
 5 
 
34 SKETCHES. 
 
 use me, as the instrument in his hands, for the salvation of, at 
 least, one sonl. 
 
 " And now, O God, thou great Lawgiver and Ruler of the 
 world, and especially of thy people, receive me as an humble 
 candidate for the holy office of Minister of the Gospel. Make 
 and keep my heart pure, and help me to labor faithfully in 
 thy vineyard, so that at thy coining thou mayst ' receive 
 thine own with usury.' I do here, before tliee, record it as 
 m/ purpose to preach the Gospel. Do thou, O Lord, place 
 the seal of thy approbation upon my heart, for Christ's sake, 
 and to thy name be all the glory, forever. Amen." 
 
 On the 1st of September, 1859, he set out, accompanied by 
 his brother Henry, for the Seminary. As the stage coach 
 moved from the front door of the parsonage, the feelings of the 
 mother could not be restrained. Through her tears she looked 
 after that coach as long as it could be seen. Then turning, she 
 walked calmly to her chamber, and said, " This is the hap- 
 piest hour of my life.^^ 
 
 Of the many letters which he wrote to his family and 
 friends during his life in the Seminary, a few onl}^ are 
 selected, and chiefly tliose written to a classmate and friend, 
 who was then undecided as to a profession. 
 
 To this friend he wrote from the Seminary, September 12, 
 1859: 
 
 " There were twelve in our company from Lynchburg — all 
 Washington College boys — making one-third of all who have 
 yet arrived. We liad, of course, a very pleasant trip, and are 
 all delighted witli the Seminary, Faculty, students and all. I 
 need not speak much of them, as you know them pretty well, 
 and will know them better in the course of a year. 
 
 " The indecision you speak of, results in part from looking too 
 much within and too little without yourself. Look less at 
 yourself and more at that Saviour, ' who loved us and gave 
 Himself for us.' Hope sprfngs, not from our love to Him, 
 
SKETCHES. 35 
 
 but from His love to us — for we only ' love him because he 
 first loved us, and gave himself a propitiation for our sins.' 
 Let us trust in him, and then w6 may put on ' the garment of 
 praise for the spirit of heaviness.' A knowledge of your con- 
 tinued indecision, and a strong desire to see you here next ses- 
 sion as a fellow-student of Theology, shall stimulate me to 
 greater earnestness in prayer for you." 
 
 TO THE SiftlE. 
 
 "Here everything emanates from and returns to the Bible. 
 If we are not directly engaged in studying its sacred pages, 
 we are pursuing some course which leads directly to that. I 
 spend nearly every hour in my room, when not at meals or 
 recitations, and find enough to make that the most pleasant 
 place to me. Your letters do me good. They come from your 
 heart and go to mine. 
 
 " I enter into your feelings in view of the ministry, only I 
 do not struggle with perplexing doubts as you do. The same- 
 ness of each day's life here almost puts me to sleep at times. 
 The constant routine of duties and privileges, seems to pass so 
 quietly and regularly, that like the winds, I can scarcely tell 
 whence they come and whither they go. No visible trace is 
 left, unless it be a deadening of the spirit, so that I read, and 
 hear, and pray in vain. I am borne along upon the current 
 which is to bear us all into the ministry, but unless I am better 
 prepared, than I often fear I shall ever be, I shall pass into 
 that stormy sea, in which that current empties itself, as helpless 
 as a child, and wholly unfitted to contend successfully with its 
 waves. 
 
 "Engrossed with each subject as it comes up in the course 
 of my studies, the souls of men are forgotten. To draw back 
 is impossible — to go forward I am afraid. But if the work in 
 its vastness appears, if the fields white for the harvest are 
 seen, if I realize that souls are falling into hell because no 
 voice is uttered to warn them of their danger, then I cry, ' Wo 
 is me if I preach not the gospel.' 
 
36 SKETCHES. 
 
 " If Christ be ■with us it will be a glorious work. Angels 
 might desire to take part in it. Yet the true source of sadness 
 is that pride, vanity, love of the praise of men, may usurp 
 Christ's place in the heart. Then the words of eternal truth 
 will fall from our lips unfelt by ourselves or our hearers. And 
 how can we teach others when we ourselves 'need to be 
 taught what be the first principles of the oracles of God'? 
 How can we exhort men -to repentance when our own is so 
 shallow? How can we point otliers to Christ when, by reason 
 of the darkness that is in us, we cannot see him ourselves? 
 How can we warn men of their danger, or allure them to 
 brighter worlds above, when there is no fear of the one nor 
 well grounded hope of the other, in our own hearts? These 
 thouglits make me afraid to preach. But such difficulties 
 must be resisted and overcome. By the help of God we may 
 conquer. 
 
 "I rejoice to think that your purpose is now formed to be 
 with us here next session. May God strengthen you for the 
 great work. Let us pray for each other more earnestly. ' God 
 is our help.' " 
 
 to ins sister, mrs. dr. wade, of giiristiansburg. 
 
 " Union Theological Seminary, 
 September 27, 1860. 
 
 " Dear Si8ti<:r : My time is now fully occupied, so that I 
 liave no idle time in which to fold my arms and thus become 
 melancholy. Nothing is better for the spirits than constant 
 activity. I am therefore glad that there is always some work 
 before me necessary to be done. My studies are more inte- 
 resting this year than they were the last, and my associates are 
 all that I could wish. D. B. is one of them, and his presence 
 makes me teel more at home. I visit but seldom. AVith 
 thirty-four such associates in the same building, I feel very 
 little concern for other society. 
 
 "Although we are comparatively few in number, our faith 
 is strong, that the prayers and efforts of the Church will be 
 
SKETCHES. 37 
 
 abundantly rewarded by a mucli lar2:er number of ministers. 
 I suppose that II. and his bride have visited you before this. 
 I parted with them at Lynchburg;, and have since received a 
 note from liim. I would like to hear all about them. You 
 liave, of course, had full accounts from home of the wedding. 
 I certainly wish them all tlie joy which they have good reason 
 to anticipate. 
 
 " Father gave me the good news in his last letter that you 
 and your children were getting well of your sickness. The 
 weather has been so bad of late that I do not wonder at the 
 prevalence of sickness. 
 
 " I hear from father very often. lie seems to be getting 
 lonesome, and as he doubtless loves all of us alike, must write 
 to the otliers as often as he does to me. If so, he writes to one 
 of his children almost every day. I will try and not let him 
 do better than myself in this respect, and will always reply to 
 his letters promptly. If, as it has been said of liim, he lives 
 in his children, it can certainly be said of us that we live in 
 him. 
 
 " I received a letter from Harriet recently. She seems to 
 be in good spirits. I hope she may continue so, and seek to 
 cheer father and mother as, hand in hand, they go down the 
 hill of life." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 " A recitation in Hebrew is suspended this afternoon, and I 
 will spend the time tlius obtained in writing to you. Every 
 bright day like this makes me wish to be at home or with you. 
 I know tliat these wishes cannot be realized, nor, if they could, 
 would they l)ring the pleasure we expect. A cheerful heart 
 is not much dependent on outward circumstances, neither is a 
 gloomy heart. The one will be cheerful in spite of clouds, 
 and the other will be sad thougli the sun shines briglitly and 
 all the world smiles. I strive, therefore, to be cheerful at all 
 times. Nature is beginning to put on a new dress. The grass 
 is beginning to spring, and in the morning we are reminded 
 
38 SKETCkES. 
 
 that ' the time of the singing of birds has come.' Our Semi- 
 nary yard will soon be beaiitiful with the foliage of .Spring, 
 and the mocking-bird will soon be here to break mj morning 
 slumbers. The very expectation of these things cheers the 
 spirit. And then I shall soon see those I love so dearly at 
 home. Shall I not see you and yours at Lexington this sum- 
 mer? I sincerely hope so. Surely you will send, if you 
 cannot bring, some of the little ones. Tell them I will run in 
 the fields, catch fish, or gather flowers with them, as they may 
 like best. 
 
 " Tlie coming vacation will be my last. If I live a year 
 from this time my life will really begin. It seems to me that 
 if this were my last session, and the time for entering the 
 ministry were only a month or two distant, I should approach 
 it with reluctance. Tlie trials of anticipation are trifling com- 
 pared with the reality. Yet I see enough now to make me 
 tremble. Perhaps this feeling is wron^and joy, in anticipa- 
 tion of preaching, should take its place. I hope this will be 
 my experience when the time comes. Yet it can only spring 
 from an entire dependence on God. I hope that you and my 
 friends do not forget me when you pray, for without a larger 
 portion of the Spirit my ministr}'^ will be barren and unfruit- 
 ful. Let me hear from you again soon, for now, more than 
 ever, my thoughts are with absent loved ones." 
 
 At the close of his first session in the Seminary, in May, 
 1860, he wrote thus to a friend : 
 
 "The examinations are now over. They closed on Saturday 
 evening, after continuing three days. It is now Monday morn- 
 ing. The quiet rest of the Sabbath has intervened between 
 th6 past session, with all its varied scenes, and the happy light 
 of this morning, and if any one in the world ought to be happy 
 I am that person. For eight months past scarce a ripple has 
 passed over the smooth surface of my life. Health has been 
 preserved, .so that I am not worn out by study, though I have 
 worked pretty hard. The future spreads out before me many 
 
SKETCHES. 39 
 
 bright hopes to cheer me on, and especially does the home in 
 Heaven, all bright with the glory of the Father, and of ' the 
 Lamb who is the liglit thereof,' cast a stream of light over the 
 brief period which separates me from the enjoyment of that 
 bliss." 
 
 To the same friend lie says: "If a sense of sin be a just 
 excuse for not preparing for the ministry, as some seem to 
 think, then I ought to be anywliere else but in the Seminary. 
 Yet I feel quite confident that this is the place for me. God 
 and my own conscience tell me so, I think. I am no advo- 
 cate for rusliing ahead, regardless of the motives that influence 
 us. Pains must be taken to ascertain whether love to God 
 and love to souls move us to the work. If love of self some- 
 times springs up in the heart, what then ? Why, gnash upon 
 it, fight against it, pray against it, and faint not in prayer. 
 And when any bad motive is found lurking in the heart, only 
 feel as you would if, on putting your hand into your pocket, 
 you should find a viper nestling there. If the discovery of 
 bad motives thus aflfects you, their presence furnislies no good 
 excuse for remaining out of the ministry. 
 
 " You complain of doubts as to your personal piety. I 
 would aslv, do you find repugnance in your heart to all sin ? 
 Can 3^ou say, ' It is the abominable thing I hate ' ? And if you 
 can look upon sin with indiflterence, docs that indifi'erence dis- 
 tress you, and lead you to say, ' Foj* this indifi'erence I abhor 
 myself? The impenitent sinner is easy in liis callousness. 
 "When he succeeds in silencing conscience, as he may do, he 
 enjoys what ho calls peace. But it is the calm of death. 
 
 " On the other hand, the true christian mourns over his 
 insensibility. When not blessed with a sense of God's pres- 
 ence and love, if he mourns even more than he does for the 
 absence of his best and dearest earthly friend, lie gives the 
 strongest proof that God is his chief joy. I really do believe 
 that you are sincerely anxious to serve God in the way most 
 pleasing to him, and hence I feel the utmost confidence that 
 he will lead you in the right way." 
 
40 SKETCUE8. 
 
 To his aunt, Mrs. Hutchinson, of Monroe, lie wrote as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 " What can this world du fur a wounded spirit? "When all 
 around is wra])ped in gloom, the star of Bethlehem alone can 
 brighten our path and guide us into true peace. This leads us 
 to that Saviour who becomes more and more precious as 
 earth's joys dei)art. In him all the riches of consolation are 
 found. If we trust in him he will support ns in life and iu 
 death. But oh, when we forget him, and thus fail to obtain 
 strength from him, how sad we are. But he never forgets us. 
 Then, though weeping should endure through the whole night 
 of our pilgrimage here, joy will come in the morning of the 
 resurrection. 
 
 ' Then with our Saviour, brother, frieud, 
 A blest eternity we '11 spend.' 
 
 " But, meantime, I desire to preacli and do some good before 
 I die. How could I wear, with joy, a starless crown in the 
 presence of that Saviour who wore a crown of thorns for 
 me?" 
 
 TO Till': SAMK. 
 
 "Tlie attempt to find true comfort, elsewhere than tn Christ, 
 often drives from ns the only Pliysician of souls, and thus be- 
 comes itself another source of sorrow. Why should we ever 
 be sad ? Let the little ^pan of existence hero be always 
 looked at in connection with the bright Heaven beyond, and 
 the former will be lost in view of the glory and blessedness of 
 the latter. And then, when we feel the arms of Christ beneath 
 us, and see the work to be done, the sorrows to be relieved, 
 the souls to be saved, we become not only willing but anxioiuj 
 to remain, and do the work of the Lord. Then does the soul 
 vibrate between a desire to be witk God in Heaven and a 
 desire to work for Him on earth." 
 
SKETCHES. 41 
 
 TO THE 8AME. 
 
 % 
 
 " A long letter from sister, lately, gives glowing accounts of 
 the progress of lier children in mind, morals and manners. 
 According to the accounts of mothers, every child is a prodigy. 
 AYhy, then, are there not more wonderful men and women in 
 the world ? As we grow in years and stature we seem to grow 
 beautifully less in all those noble traits which shine so con- 
 spicuously in every prattling child." 
 
 Referring to a brother who was threatened with deafness, 
 he adds : " Most gladly would I share my ears with him if I 
 could, lie would do so much more good with them than I 
 fear I shall." 
 
 As his second session in the Seminary drew to a close — early 
 in the spring of ISGl — it became painfully evident that the 
 direst of all calamities — civil war — must come. The State of 
 Virginia, to a large extent, was conservative. Her people 
 loved the Union, and desired to perpetuate it. Hence much 
 opposition was felt and expressed to the course already taken 
 by South Carolina. But such views and feelings were crushed 
 by the Proclamation of Lincoln issued on the loth of April of 
 that year, calling for 75,000 men to make war u])on the States 
 * which had quietly withdraw^n from the Union, This united 
 and inflamed the Commonwealth.^ So thorough a transforma- 
 tion of sentiment and feeling was perhaps never accomplished, 
 in 80 short a time, among so large a number of people. Ail 
 classes and conditions shared in the excitement. It readied 
 the schools of the country, and even the quiet Theoloirical 
 Seminary felt the influence of the might}' convulsion. • Lec- 
 tures were suspended, or but sparsely attended, and the ques- 
 tion of remaining or hastening home, agitated every mijid. 
 Sharing in the excitement and perplexity thus produced, bo 
 wrote as follows : 
 (> 
 
42 HKi-rrcnEB. 
 
 *■ 
 
 / 
 
 TO HIS FATUEB. 
 
 " Union Seminary, April 22, 1861. 
 
 " My Dear Father: I may l)e able to labor during our ap- 
 proaching vacation as a coli)orteur. I ho])c I may. But 
 events in this country are hastening on so rapidly to some 
 dreadful catastrophe, that we can scarcely indulge the hope of 
 doing anything except to fight and suffer. We feel the com- 
 motion here very much. Our studies and recitations are much 
 interrupted. We all hold ourselves ready to take part in the 
 war. Some of our nund:)er are already drilling. As to myself, 
 I have been troubled to know what I should do. It would, of 
 course, be much more to my taste to remain at homo with you 
 and mother. But you do not need my i)resence. It will 
 blast my highest hopes to take any step which woukl retard or 
 prevent my entr.ance into the ministry. And we certainly 
 ought not to take up arms so hastily as men in other profes- 
 sions. Yet we are not exempt from uiilitary service, and 
 hence I hold myself ready to go, whenever there is any lack 
 of men. I will therefore drill with the Hampden Sidney 
 Company, and thus be the better prepared to volunteer when- 
 ever it shall be necessary. 
 
 " I do not know how this agrees with your wishes. From 
 your last letter, I am afraid thiit your feelings are not fully 
 with the Southern movement. But as I now observe that your 
 last letter was dated April 12th, some days before it was known 
 that Lincoln's policy is coercion and war, I no longer doubt 
 the course you will adopt. We of Virginia are between two 
 fires. If we join the one party, we join friends and allies; 
 if we join the other, wo join enemies and become vassals. 
 Our decision then is formed, and we will seek to break the 
 oppressor's yoke. Our only hope, under God, is in a united 
 resistance even unto deatii. The end of the bloody tragedy 
 now begun, no human eye can see; yet in resistance is our 
 only hope. I am resolved therefore, that with your consent — 
 for I am not yet a freeman — I will fill the first vacancy in our 
 
SKETCHES. 43 
 
 ranks, wlierc a man is needed to fight. My soul is in God's 
 hands, and hence I fear not him who can only kill the body. 
 Though I thus s])eak, I feel more and more anxious to be at my 
 proper work. Yes, how delightful it would be to enter at once 
 upon the work of saving men's souls, rather than in efforts to 
 destroy their bodies ; and a feeble hope still lingers that my life 
 will not end until I have done, at least, some little good in my 
 Master's vinej^ard. But the war is begiwi, and I must help to 
 finish it. May God keep the minds of all of us in perfect 
 peace amidst the tumult that is raging around us. 
 
 Your devoted son, • 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 TO HIS SISTER, MKS. WADE. 
 
 f 
 
 " Union Theological Seminauy, April 24, 1861. * 
 
 " My Dear Sister : Your letter has just been received. For 
 your warm affection and parting blessing I most heartily 
 thank you. These will often fill my mind and heart, if I go 
 to the field of battle. But I have not 3^et fully decided what 
 to do. If my duty to preach did not restrain me, my musket 
 would now be on my shoulder. I have written to father to 
 learn his wishes. If I leave soon, accept this as my parting 
 letter. God grant that it may not be my last. But if it is, 
 my hopes are fixed on abetter world, and God's love will draw 
 us thither. Let us not then despond, but be cheerful. Let me 
 add one more expression of devoted love to you and yours." 
 
 He wrote to his mother on the same subject as follows: 
 
 " Union Thkolooical Seminary, April 25, 1861. 
 
 "My Dear Mother: Your letter, with father's, came to-day. 
 It makes me sad to see how you and he are affected by the 
 troublcsof our country. If nothing else can brace me up to meet 
 the coming trials with a brave and cheerful heart, a desire to 
 support you would. Be assured, therefore, that whatever may 
 come, it will be m}' highest aim to be a faithful son. Perhaps 
 
14 ^KKTCHEP. 
 
 mv youtli ]irevent8 nie from entering more deeply into your sad 
 t'eelini;:^. The young heart is ever prone to rise and not sink. 
 Ilencc, tliough for a time I was very mueh east duwn, my 
 spirits revived, and 1 now liope tliat I can meet anytliing that 
 awaits me with eheerfiil courage. I do not seek to do]»rociate 
 our danger, or to draw a veil over the sad scenes wliich may 
 be just before us, but with a firm reliance on the justice of our 
 cause, and in tlie hel}> of a rigliteous God, we may go forward 
 confident of success. We may suffer fiir more, our situation 
 may become darker and darker, but the morning will dawn, 
 light will again come. With hope therefore on our banner, let 
 me go to the battle. 
 
 " God in his Providence has permitted these aflftictaons to 
 befall us. And, my mother, if he rides upon the storm — if he 
 guides it to please himself, and accomplish his own purposes, 
 shall we murmur or repine ? Shall we so far magnify our own 
 wishes and ])huis, as to shut him from our view? What if 
 our desires and pur])0scs are thwarted, and our hapjtiness 
 blasted, does this make him any the less M'ise, or just, or good? 
 "What if darkness, that may be felt, gathers over us, is it not 
 all light with him ? Could we catch a glimpse of God, and of 
 the blessed pur])oses which he is carrying out, how soon we 
 should wipe away our tears, blush to think of our murmurings, 
 and run with glad hearts into his arms. You know how your 
 children used to do. They might fret and cry when their ])lan8 
 were crossed, but when they found that they had been wrong 
 and vou right, how gladly did they run to you, and love you all 
 the more tenderly because you had interposed your better wis- 
 dom to control them. Thus should we all now do with our heav- 
 eidy Father. The issue of all this commotion is with him. 
 lie will certainly bring light out of this darkness, and joy out 
 of this sorrow. 'Wcey)ing may endure for a night, but joy 
 eometli in the morning.' 
 
 "That we may hasten the coming o^' the dawn, we must be 
 laithfid in our |)resent jiosition. If our hearts fail and our hands 
 hang down, our condition will grow worse and worse. It is 
 
gKEix:'iiEe. 45 
 
 /our duty now to resist with brave and united liearts. Our cause 
 is just. We sought for peace until wc had ahnost bartered 
 away our liberty. We went witli true courage and love of 
 country to the very brink of ruin, hoping that the North would 
 meet us with affection and aid 'tis in our efforts to save our 
 once loved land. Tlicy spoke no word of encouragement or 
 kindness, but on the contrary, have nursed their enmity and 
 gathered their strengtii to ruin us. "We have just eluded their 
 grasp, and our only hope of safety is in brave resistance. AVe 
 are now in this condition. God has permitted it for the best 
 of purposes, and our duty to liini, as well as to our country, 
 our liberties, and our homes, demands that we arm and fight. 
 
 "As to myself, I shall seek to be ready to go whenever 
 there is a call for my services. My soul is in God's hands, 
 motlier, do n't grieve about mj' body. He will take care of 
 that too. I am now drilling in the IIain])den Sidney Company, 
 but have not joined it. I wait to hear father's reply to my 
 last letter. I prefer joining the Washington College Company, 
 
 " As to Tommie, dear mother, let not your heart be troulfled. 
 Has not God been very good and faithful to your other chil- 
 dren ? O ! yes, blessed be his name, we believe that they are 
 all safe. And will God now forsake you in your old age? I 
 believe not. His word is sure. As he has saved all the rest, 
 he will save Tommie too. ' Lord, we believe, Iielp thou our 
 unl)elief.' 
 
 "Tell father I received the money he sent, and thank him 
 for it. We do n't know whether the Board will meet. My 
 heart is full of love for all at home. Be assured of this. 
 Mother, if you could be cheerful, it would help me to be so. 
 V)nt if your face is sad, mine must be too. Let us therefore 
 trust in God and quit ourselves like men. 
 
 Your devoted son, 
 
 IirGIT." 
 
•if) SKKFCUKS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LEAVES THE SEMINARY. — KirriRXS HOME. — EVTERS THE ARMY. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE FROM APUrr-, 1801, TO AUGUST, 1862. 
 
 He remained at the Seminary until his second session closed. 
 He stood liis examinations, attended the marriage ol* a iViond, 
 and reached home about the middle of May, 1861. JIc was 
 then twenty years and ei<j:ht montlis of age. llis appearance, 
 though not indicative of serious disease, was sucli as to awaken 
 some uneasiness in the minds of his friends. Tlie professors 
 said he had coniined liimseh' too closely to his room and his 
 books during the winter. His father feared that the privations 
 and exposure of the camp miglit be fiital to his health, and 
 lield a full interview with him, in which he sought to convince 
 him, that considering his age, his acquisitions, his tastes and 
 habits, he could more cft'octually serve both God and his 
 country, by spending tlie summer as a colporteur, than by 
 entering the army at that time. He also urged, that after 
 spending the summer in that way, he might then, in eight 
 months more, complete his course in the Seminary, obtain 
 license to ])reach, and enter the army as a chaplain. A com- 
 mission had already been sent to him from the Board of Pub- 
 lication, at Philadelphia, inviting and empowering him to 
 labor in their service for such time, and in such a lield as he 
 might prefer. But the war had already begun, and this com- 
 mission, of course, could not be accepted. There was a good 
 supply of books, however, in the depository at Lexington, and 
 he was urged to use these in the service of the Committee of 
 Lexington Presbytery. But, having listened to his father as 
 he always did, with the most deferential attention, he replied 
 sul)stantially as follows : 
 
 "Father, what you say has much force. But this is to bo 
 no ordinary war, and for young men like me to hold back will 
 have a very bad moral effect. The superior numbers and 
 
SKETCHES. 47 
 
 resources of the North will make it necessary for every man 
 in the South, not disabled by age or inlirmity, to take part in 
 the work of resistance. I have thoui2;ht and prayed much 
 over this question for the last two months. To be entirely 
 candid, I observed a day of fasting and ^jrayer at the Semi- 
 nary, with a view to learn wliat the will of the Lord is, and 
 the result is as firm a conviction that I ought at once to take 
 part in the defence of my native State, and especially of you 
 and mother, as I ever felt that I ought to preach the Gospel." 
 His appearance, manner and thoughts, impressed the memory 
 and heart of his father in a way never to be forgotten, and 
 under the impression thus made, he said ; " Go, my son, and 
 the blessing of God go with you." And although he fell, the 
 blessing of God did go with him. 
 
 The students of Washington College had formed themselves 
 into a volunteer company, with the title of the Liberty Hall 
 Volunteers, and chosen their Professor of Greek, James J. 
 "White, their captain. Hugh at once enrolled himself as a 
 private in the ranks of this company, under the command of 
 his eldest brother, whom he had always loved and reverenced, 
 almost as he did his father. This company was composed 
 almost exclusively of those then connected with the College, 
 or who were recent graduates of the College. It consisted of 
 seventy-two in the aggregate, .more than half of whom were 
 ])rofessors of religion, and about one-fourth of whom were 
 candidates for the ministry. It em])raced an amount of intel- 
 lectual and moral worth rarely equalled in any military com- 
 pany. On the morning of the 8th of June, 1861, they were 
 formed in front of the Court House in Lexington. The Court 
 House square, the main street, the windows of the houses, were 
 crowded with the citizens of the town and of the surrounding 
 country. They were well drilled, liandsomely equipped, and 
 made a very inqiosing appearance. A beautiful Confederate 
 flag, wrought by the hands of tlie ladies of Falling Spring 
 congregation, was presented in very appropriate terms by the 
 Rev. John Miller, and received in a few pertinent words by 
 
48 SKETCH KK. 
 
 Cjipt. Wliite. A brief address was then made to them, and 
 prayer offered lor tliem and their invaded State, ])y tlie tatlier 
 of the captain ; after ■whicli, the command was given, and 
 with solemn step, they marched away amidst the sighs and 
 tears of tlie whole eomnmnity. A large number in carriages, 
 on horseback, and on foot, followed in their rear to the river, a 
 mile below the town, then returning entered the Presbyterian 
 Church, where ]>rayer and praise were oifered to the God of 
 grace, who is also the God of battles. 
 
 In the first battle of Manassas, such was the gallantry dis- 
 played b}'- this company, that they won from (xeu. Jackson the 
 designation of " more tlum brave young men." Twelve of 
 them have fallen in battle. Seven have died of disease con- 
 tracted in camp. Fourteen have been wounded in action. 
 They have been in thirteen pitched battles, and many combats, 
 in a period of eighteen months; and on no occasion have they 
 failed to evince a high order of courage. From the casualties 
 of battle and disease they are now commanded by their fourth 
 captain. 
 
 As they awaited orders at Staunton, Hugh wrote to his 
 fatlier: 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that our destination is Harper's 
 Ferry. We leave to-morrow morning, and are all in good 
 spirits. The ])eople here have been very kind, and made our 
 condition really pleasant. Many of our men have enjoyed 
 their hospitality at their houses, and the others have enjoyed 
 it at their camj). Some hearts, it may be, are now swelling 
 MJtli the desire for military distinction, ixnd some heads 
 becoming diiczy with anticipations of earthly glory. But I 
 conless I am either too cowardly or too stuj)id to belong to 
 either class. They may win the laurels, provided only that 
 our cause trium])hs. And of our final success you would not 
 doubt, had you seen the men who left town this morning to 
 repel the enemy from our north-western border. They 
 appeared to be good soldiers and in good spirits. But they 
 
will have hard work aTiiid great difficulties. Several other 
 regiments are expected to-night. Among them wo expect to 
 see the Hampden Sidney boys. The attention of the authori- 
 ties seems to be directed to the north-west. If the Qnemy 
 persist in seeking to advance, or to hold the nearer points 
 already taken, there will be bloody work. But it is of no use 
 •to prophesy evil. They have come, more are coming, and they 
 must be met. 
 
 " I am sure it will relieve your minds of nmch anxiety to 
 know that we are going to Harper's Ferry, to meet open ene- 
 mies, and not the traitors of the north-west. I write at night, 
 amidst all sorts of noises. The boys are packing their kjiap- 
 sacks, laughing, talking, whistling, and singing. We are all 
 well and in good spirits. With best love to all at home. 
 
 Your devoted son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 A few da}-^ before leaving home, he wi-ote to his sister in 
 Montgomery, thus : 
 
 " I expect to leave this week in brother James' company. 
 Though the time for us to leave home, jierhaps never to return, 
 is so near, yet we are quite cheerful. When mother first heard 
 of our orders to leave, she was very sad, but she is now in 
 good spirits, making preparation for our departure. She, with 
 all of us, feels that it is a duty calling for great self denial, yet 
 one we must meet with cheerful courage. How wonderfully 
 have we thus far been preserved from great effusion of blood. 
 At Sumter and Acquia Creek we have gained bloodless victo- 
 ries. May God continue thus to shield us. Of course, I hope 
 t(» escape death, and live to preach the gospel. But if not, 
 living or dying, I am the Lord's. If we art^ conquered, fare- 
 well forever to the bright visions of philanthropists and chris- 
 tians as to the civil and religious freedom America was to 
 maintain at home and scatter abroad. But if we conquer, as 
 I think we shall eventually, these visions -.md hopes may again 
 be cherished.'' 
 
50 SKETCHKft. 
 
 TO THK SAME. 
 
 " CAitp Stephkxs, June 24, 1861. 
 
 " Your letter was the first received since I left home. Tiie 
 aftcetion expressed in it, and now, I know, I'uUowini; me from 
 day to day, is a source of joy. Deprived of the pleasures of 
 liome, the love of those we have left behind is like sweet* 
 incense to the lieart. Tlie farther a])art we are scattered, the 
 stronger and tenderer are the bonds wliioh l>iiid our hearts 
 together. 
 
 "I am now four miles from Martinsburg, and about six from 
 the Potomac. We have not the comforts of home, but what 
 we have we enjoy greatly. Last night we slept on the ground 
 without unrolling our knapsacks, expecting to meet the enemy 
 before morning. I spread my blanket over two large rocks 
 firndy embedded in the earth, and fitted myself in the hollow 
 between them. As it threatened to rain, I took my musket for 
 a bed-fellow and held my cartridge box in my arms. Soon the 
 rain began to fall, but with perfect indifterence to this I fell 
 asleep. I have already learned to prefer the canopy of heaven 
 for my roof, and the stars as my lights by night. In "Winches- 
 ter I contracted a severe cold while sleeping in a house. Four 
 nights in the open air have nearly cured me. 
 
 " I have found much pleasui-e in meeting with old friends. 
 At Winchester nine of my fellow-graduates met. It was the 
 largest and happiest reunion we have enjoyed since parting. 
 Almost every day brings some new enjoyment of this sort, 
 awaking memories of the past, and recalling joys which 
 seemed to be gone forever. Do not suppose therefore that 
 mine is a sad condition, calling for sympathy. Wo have our 
 sources of sadness, like other people. But we also have our 
 own peculiar joys. Indeed, one thought of the cause in which 
 we are engaged, is enough to scatter all gloom, and fill us 
 with gladness. 
 
 "Yesterday we heard two sermons and attended a prayer 
 meeting. This gave the appearance, at least, of holiness to 
 
 » 
 
SKEl'OHES. ^X 
 
 the day, but still if yon had looked iito our camp you would 
 have thought it the busiest day of the week. Some were 
 cooking, others cutting wood, and others pitching their tents. 
 It is painful but necessary to spend the Sabbath in this way. 
 Our religious privations are what we feel most keenly. We 
 seek to remedy this by a brief prayer meeting held every night 
 after roll call. Nearly all the members of our company attend 
 with becoming seriousness. May the trials of our country 
 work in it a great moral reformation. If so, we may hope for 
 true and lasting prosperity when peace shall again come. If 
 not, God will overturn in the future as he is doing now. 
 May he speedily redeem our world from sin and ruin. 
 
 " Give all your household my warmest love. My mind and 
 heart are full of you." 
 
 The first great battle in which he participated was that of 
 Manassas, July 21, 1861. In this he was much exposed, 
 fought bravely, but escaped unhurt. Two days after this 
 memorable conflict he wrote to his father thus : 
 
 "Manassas, July 23, 1861. 
 
 " My Dear Father : I wrote to you yesterday that you 
 miglil know of our safety. You will hear more of the particu- 
 lars of the battle of the Slst than I have time now to give. 
 Our Company has suffered sadly. Five are dead and seven 
 wounded. Oh ! how sad a blow is this. Who thought that 
 our ranks would thu» be thinned and so many be hurried into 
 eternity ? Where are their souls ^ This thought often per- 
 plexes and saddens me. I pray that I may hereafter be far 
 more zealous in seeking to bring sinners to Christ, that if they 
 die, they may only sleep in him. I wish that I was with you 
 to join in ascribing praise and glory to the good Providence 
 which ])re5erved me in sucli danger. Every one in the fight 
 was in imminent peril. Balls flew fjist around and over us, 
 and many of our brave comrades fell at our side. But brother 
 James and I, though separated for a while during the first 
 
:>3 f*KKTClIKS. 
 
 charge, &(»on nif t again.* and side by side we passed through 
 tlie ri'maining scenes of the (hiy. "Wo are nnliurt. Thougli 
 onr loss lias been great, the lield is ours. The enemy were 
 put to flight and chased for miles. The killed on either side 
 are not known as yet. They will number hundreds, however. 
 The loss of baggage, wagons, artillery, nnd j)risoners on the 
 ]mrt of the enemy is immense. At least fifty pieces of can- 
 non, some of thorn turned against their former owners, before 
 thev were out of reach, would be in itself a glorious success. 
 But wlien we remember that in their attack on us, they were 
 ])repared in every way for advancing to Richmond, with hav- 
 ersacks filled with provisions, preparations for rebuilding 
 bridges, confidently expecting to march over us here, and pass 
 on in triumph to our capital — when we remember this, wo 
 may hope that their defeat will so dishearten them as nuiteri- 
 ally to check their progress. It was a full trial of their 
 strength. They fought bravely — for their regulars and best 
 soldiers were engaged. But they could not stand the charge 
 of bayonets. Every time we advanced, they fell back. AVho 
 would not praise God for thus overthrowing those, who, on 
 liis holy day, sought to execute their wicked purpose to crush 
 those who sought to defend their liberties and their homes. 
 It was an awfu^ Sabbath. How often I longed to be with 
 you, enjoying the privileges of the Sabbath. Even one hour 
 w6uld have been delightful. But God ordered otherwise. 
 We arc all in his hands. He casts down and he keeps alive. 
 May he speedily crown our cause with (t)mplete success* ! If 
 it please him, may I again see my father and mother in peace, 
 and B]>end my life in ])reaching liis gospel. The scenes in 
 which I am now engaged are very sad ; yet the taste of vic- 
 tory, though bought by precious blood, is sweet. But to 
 }jreach would be far better. 
 
 "I have not time to give you a full description of this battle; 
 and perhaps it would only give you the greater pain to learn 
 what danger we were in. But surely, if God has spared ns 
 in this most protracted and bloody battle, as he has, he can 
 
SKETCHES. 53 
 
 spare us in the future. There was an incessant roar of cannon 
 and musketry for over ei2;ht hours. Tlie hardest figlitino^ was 
 from eleven to four o'clock. We were in this. 
 
 " Our town has again been called to mourn. Wm. Page 
 and Fr. Davidson have been taken. Our immediate relatives 
 
 are safe. H ]\I stood his ground bravely, and came 
 
 out untouched. Give full love to all at home — especially to 
 vwther's anxious heart. But my love for all increases daily. 
 Send word of my safety to sister, brothers George and Henry, 
 and to my aunts Georgie and Martha. Warmest congratula- 
 tions and love to sister Mary Lou., and greetings to my new 
 nieces, my dear parents, and all at home. I hope to see you 
 again in ])eace. But if we do not meet here again, we have a 
 home in Heaven." 
 
 On the 6th of August he wrote ^o his brother George, giving 
 him a full and admirable description of the battle. But as 
 many such descriptions have been written by others, and as 
 we do not wish to tax the patience of our readers, we only 
 give a sentence or two with which he closes the letter. 
 
 " Brother James and I Jicartily unite with you in praising 
 the grace which has spared our lives in this bloody battle. 
 He and I joined in the pursuit beyond the Stone Bridge. We 
 saw the enemy as they passed thr(^)Ugh the woods a mile 
 ahead of us, and we returned to attend to our wounded and 
 dead. IS' ight soon closed the scene. The next day we buried 
 our dead. It rained the whole day, and that night we sat up 
 around our fires. Bro. J. had religious service over their 
 graves. 
 
 " It is a great victory ; but may I never pass through such a 
 scene* again. Death and hell may rejoice on the battle-field, 
 but let man be silent. May God, wlio has won this victory 
 for us, now give us peace. My best love to sister AVillie and 
 the children. Your aff. brother, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
54 - KKETCUE8. 
 
 » 
 
 The hardships endured in tlie service seriously impaired the 
 health of his brother, Capt. James J. "White, but though urged 
 by his General, Surgeon, and many others, to leave the army, 
 he persisted in remaining until September. By this time his 
 snftorings became so great, and his symptoms so threatening, 
 that he was constrained to tender his resignation of the com- 
 mand of his much loved company — the Liberty Hall Volun- 
 teers. His resignation was accepted with deep regret by 
 those whom he had led through so many dangers and suffer- 
 ings. But no one felt or could feel so sadly, on this occasion, 
 as his younger brother, whom he had taught in college and 
 guided in battle, and who had ever looked up to him with 
 feelings of the tendercst fraternal affection. 
 
 Soon after he left the army, he wrote to this brother the 
 following letter, in which it is obvious to all who knew him, 
 lie exerts himself to repress his feelings. 
 
 "Near Centreville, Sept. 12, 1S61. 
 
 " ^[y Dear Brot/ier : I received your letter from Manas- 
 sas. I regret the difficulties which delayed you on your way, 
 but am glad to think tliat this afternoon you are in Tlockbridgo 
 and perhaps now at home. I am on picket at the house to 
 the right of our encampment, and though the breeze is pleas- 
 ant and the sun bright, I cannot restrain the desire jto be with 
 you. I feel your absence much. I have not the pleasure now 
 of sitting in your tent and enjoying your company. I feel 
 lonesome. But this will wear off in a few days, I hope. 
 
 " I fear you lyid a very uncomfortable ride last night. The 
 rain poured down here from ten till after one o'clock. I bore 
 it patiently for an hour, hoping to endure it to the end. But 
 the rain wore out my courage, and I went into the house. 1 
 only bettered my condition in keeping dry. The room was 
 close, and the com])any I was in rendered my night very un- 
 comfortable. 
 
 " I fear a stage ride at night, in such a rain, caused you 
 much suffering. But this is forgotten if you are now at home. 
 
SKETCHKP. 55 
 
 I see the sun going down behind the Bhie Ridge. How mnch 
 more beautiful it would appear if the North Mountain and 
 the Brushy Hills formed the horizon. You must attribute this 
 talk to jonr absence from me and j'our presence at home. 
 Though I feel thus, my joy at your getting out of the service 
 is great. My health is perfectly good. I am young and with- 
 out any incumbrance. No one therefore is better fitted for 
 enduring hardships. As to the danger to which my life shall 
 be exposed in the future, I seek to commit this to Him who 
 orders all things for His own glory. If cut down now, how 
 much in vain has my life been. How little has been done. 
 This thought gives me more trouble than any other. But 
 even this may be quieted by a calm trust in One who supplies 
 all my dcficicnciCiM b}'^ His abundant grace, and can as easily 
 accomplish His purposes without as with me. And when the 
 path of duty is so plain, when we stand in the breach to de- 
 fend all we hold dear, when those who seek our ruin make 
 themselves more and more hateful, by a want of ever}' noble 
 feeling and purpose, and by the practice of outrages which 
 increase daily, how can we restrain the desire to inflict on 
 them the punishment they so well deserve. This desire is in 
 proportion to my love for those at l\ome, and as the war has 
 strengthened the latter, so has it also the former. 
 
 " There was a considerable show of battle near Falls Church 
 yesterday. The enemy, it is said, advanced with a brigade of 
 infantry, six pieces of artillery, and three Inmdred cavalry, 
 coming in by a flank movement to the left and this side of 
 Munson's Hill. They were met by six hundred of our in- 
 fantry, with two pieces of artillery and some cavalry. Tlie 
 enemy were driven back five miles, with the loss of three killed 
 and seven taken prisoners. We lost nothing in any way. 
 This you know was only a skirmish of almost dail}' occurrence. 
 We are perfectly quiet here, and have no evidence tluit an 
 advance is intended. 
 
 " A committee was appointed this afternoon to draft some 
 resolutions with reference to your resignation. They will re- 
 
:>t» tJKRTCHKS. 
 
 port to-iiiorrow. Rest iisaurecl that the aS'ection they may 
 express is really felt. Many of them regret your absence 
 almost as much as I do. 
 
 Your affectionate brother, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 To liis sister, who hoped to meet liim on her visit to Lexing- 
 ton he says: "I suppose you are now in Lexington. My pres- 
 ence might add something to the pleasure of your visit, and 
 would, if ))roper, Ull me with joy. But do not let my al)sence, 
 as you hint in your last letter, detract in the least from your 
 pleasure. I am veiy conifortable and happy here, and as to 
 any peculiar danger attending my position, I am as safe here 
 beneath the shield of God's protection, as'-f at home sitting 
 l)eueath my own father's roof. There is a great buzzing 
 among Editors and rumor-circulators in general. I have 
 learned not to allow myself to be disturbed b}' them. 1 wait 
 quietly for the order to march, and tlien go ahead.'' 
 
 "Ni:;VE Ckntkeville, August 30, 1S61. 
 
 " My deak Father : I wrote you a long letter a day or two 
 since, which I hope has, been received. I write now before 
 breakfast, just as the morning sun is looking into my tent, not 
 knowing where I shall be when that sun sets. AVe are expect- 
 ing every day, almost every minute, an order to march. Our 
 advanced guard has taken from the enemy some hills within 
 six miles of Alexandria, from which (mr men can look into 
 that city, and can see the dome of the Capitol at Washington. 
 A place so near the tyrant's throne, and of such commanding 
 importance, must be a source of contention between the two 
 armies. It cost a struggle to gain it. Five or six of our 
 cavalry who took the position were killed, but more than this 
 of the enemy perished, and eight were taken prisoners. 
 
 " I have almost abandoned the hope of returning to the 
 Seminary next session. This is a great disappointment to me, 
 yet one from which, if my life is spared, I may yet derire great 
 
SKETCHES. 57 
 
 benefit. Service in the army may give me a hardihood and 
 experience which will help ine even in the ministry. You 
 may smile at this, and say it is easy to extract sweet from 
 bitter when a misfortune is inevitable. So it is — and that is 
 just what I am trying to do. It is of no use to fret and des- 
 troy both my own peace and that of others, and do no one 
 any good. So, if the winter is before, me, and I must con- 
 tend with frost, and snow, and ice, instead of grappling Avith 
 Hebrew roots and knotty points in theology, I liave not a word 
 of complaint to utter. Nor do I anticipate much suifering. 
 With a blazing fire to warm us by day, and a sufticiency of 
 blankets to cover us at night, we can get along comfortably. 
 It may only fit me the better, if need be, for being a mission- 
 ary in the Arctic regions. Tlius you see, under any circum- 
 stances, I shall derive sweet from bitter — and heat from cold. 
 Tell mother that I have ample clothing and covering for some 
 time to come. When brother J. returns he can direct as to 
 the preparation of my winter equipments. We are much 
 pained to lose him, but his resignation is not more painful to 
 us than it is necessary to liiinself. We can only repa}"^ his 
 kindness by a life-long aifection, and this the whole company 
 will repay. Your devoted son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 ., "Near Fairfax Station, September IG, 186X. 
 
 " My dear Father : We moved from our camp near Cen- 
 treville tliis morning, and came five miles to the cast. We 
 have a very pleasant encampment here ; but tlic camp we left — 
 on account of fhe length of time spent there, and the many com- 
 forts surrounding us — liad become like home. Wc regretted 
 to leave it. However, since V)rothor J. left, the place had 
 become lonesome to me. Every point was associated with 
 him, and his absence mndo tlie association mipleasant. On 
 this account I was very willing to leave it. The new scenes 
 which now surround me, will make me more liappy. 
 8 
 
58 SKETCHES. 
 
 "Do not think irom this that I am unhappy. T am not. 
 Absoncc from you all, of course, deprives me of many joys. 
 But I am certain that we in camp are more cheerful than you 
 are at home. We soon become accustomed to this manner of 
 life, and enjoy it. I can truly say that, as a s^eneral thino^, 
 I am as contented as I ever was in my life. 
 
 " I have had some Q;xpectation of a visit from you. I heard 
 that during your absence from home, attendincr Presbytery, 
 you might run down on a visit to Manassas. How n-freshing 
 to us would such a visit be. Your friends hero, including Gen* 
 eral and Mrs. Jackson, expressed the strongest desire that you 
 should come. But our hopes are ixot realized, for I hear that 
 you are again at home. But if you could come, I am certain 
 that you would be gratified and we benefited. For our com- 
 pany's sake I wish you would come ; many of them, though 
 not members of the church, are faithful in reading their Bi- 
 bles, and serious in their attendance at our nightly prayer- 
 meetings conducted by the professing Christians of the com- 
 pany in alphabetical order. For tlieir sakes, as well as ray 
 own, I do wish you would come. You might be better able 
 to comfort their parents and friends at liome by coming and 
 spending a short time with them in camp. Tu our Brigade 
 (the ' Stonewall) are four Rockbridge companies — the Greys, 
 Rifles, Artillery, and our own. 
 
 "I suppose brother J-, has received the resolutions ado])teil 
 by our company on the occasion of his lamented resignation. 
 
 They do honor to him, to the compan}', and to , Avho 
 
 wrote them. Your devoted son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 They soon returned to their old encampment at Centreville. 
 
 To his sister, Mrs. Wade, he writes: "It gives me both 
 pleasure and pain to hear from loved ones at home and else- 
 where. Tlieir expressiotis of loV0, so warui and deep, are very 
 grateful. But the anxiety they feel, by day and night for us, 
 is the cliief Cause of sadness to me. Thev think of us as home- 
 
SKETCHES. 
 
 less, houseless, and friendless — pinclied with cold and hunger — 
 cast forth as food for the invading enen^y. 1 confess there 
 is some iruth in all this. That we are deprived of many com- 
 forts, every body knows and feels. We are also often subject 
 to many hardships. But with our sorrows, we have our joys. 
 And even if our condition wore tenfold worse than it is, we 
 would be glad to endure it for our homes. If there be one in 
 the army who does not find it more pleasant to endure the 
 hardships of the camp, than to be at ease at home, he ought 
 to be, if he is not, a Yankee. 
 
 " No amount of exposure injures my health. I liave often 
 awoke;,from my "bed of earth and pillow of rocks, more re- 
 freshed than if I had slept on feathers. I hope, therefore, that 
 you will case your heart of the burden of anxiety you feel for 
 your two brothers. We hope we give in return equal love 
 for yours. We are fighting in defence of tliose at home, and 
 the greater the struggle, the greater our love for them. It is 
 far more painful to think of our hardships amid the comforts 
 of liorae than to endure them — Especially with those, who, if 
 the silver cord which binds them to this world were broken, 
 would ascend at once to Heaven. Our bodies, what are they? 
 Our souls, we hope, are safe. Let light from lieaven ' then 
 fall upon us, and it is simply impossible for this world to look 
 dark, 
 
 " Rest assured that the tender love of a sister meets the 
 warm love of her two soldier brother's. Let all of our anxie- 
 ties cease, for God is our hope. Give our best love to Dr. 
 Wade and all the children. 
 
 " Write to father and mother as often as possible. Thev 
 did enjoy peace, but the recent fighting lias excited their fears 
 and made them very sad again. 
 
 " What a happy honnc your gi'oup of children must make. 
 How hai)py they must be not to know what is going on around 
 them. Your devoted brother, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
60 SKETCHES. 
 
 To tlio same, ho \rrites, October 1, 1861. " On Saturday 
 iiiL'lit a violent rain destroyed at oiice onr fire and our 8U]>]ier. 
 We liouirht some ]Mes, however, which ai!bnled us a £,i;)od sup- 
 per. In the morninir I was lying in bed wondering whore 
 breakfast would come from, when a servant came to my tent 
 and said, there was a box for one of our company at the 
 Colonel's tent. I went up and found the one- yon sent me. 
 There wasf breakfast just at hand. The old ham was most 
 timelv. It sui'iplied us for some davs. On that and the ecrgs 
 we lived high. Nothing too could have been more agreeable 
 than the dried peaches. Our cook makes good pastry, and 
 the fruit is sweet enough without sugar, whidi is scarce. In- ^ 
 deed all vou sent was most suitable. Both you and they at 
 home, liave been most attentive to my wants. 
 
 " t should be delighted to see your children. A frolic with 
 them would do much to supple my joints and raise my spirits. 
 Belle would l>e large enough to follov;^ me. through the fields. 
 Libertv thus to ramble would make mo feel like a bird re- 
 leased from its cage. But I must forciro tliese pleasures for 
 the present, hoping that the time will yet come again for mo 
 to enjoy them." 
 
 To his father he wrote, September 6, 18G1 : 
 
 "Amid tli(:^ present excitement, matters of small moment are 
 apt to he forgotten. I write therefore to remind you all, if 
 you have forgotten the fact, that this is my twenty -first birth- 
 day. According, to law, I am to-day a freeman. But really, 
 1 am far less of a freeman than formerly. Indeed what a 
 contradiction it is to say, that I am now free, and that one 
 year ago I was iiiider authority. Now I am bound by military 
 rule — kept within a field around which armed sentinels stand, 
 Avhom I cannot pass without a written permission from my 
 commander. This is only one of the ways in which ray once 
 free limbs are held closely fettered. Formerly, when you alone 
 were mv ruler, the woods and the fields were mine, and noth- 
 ing kept me from a full enjoyment of all I needed. But this 
 
SKETCHES. 6f 
 
 morninpr, since the sun of my freedom has risen, how few of 
 my former Ulessing§ do I enjoy. If that was servitude and 
 this is freedom, let me always live a slave. 
 
 " Were I at home this morning, I should not feel like one 
 released from control, but rather like one cast for the first 
 time in deep water, and wiio shudders to make the plunge, 
 distrustful of the treacherous deep. • 
 
 • " Instead of freedom from your control, I feel more disposed 
 than ever to do your bidding — to keep closely in the path you 
 may mark out for rae. I know that you have sought to teach 
 us independence, by making us choose for ourselves in many . 
 things. But we have all, I think, sought to know, and pre- 
 ferred to abide by 3'^our judgment. So I shall always do. In- 
 deed I am nt)t yet out of my instructor's hands, and wJien I 
 am, the difficulties which will beset my path, will call more 
 loudly than ever, for parental instruction and advice. You 
 see therefore, that I still look forward to years of discipline 
 and control, before I can trust myself to my own government. 
 Indeed I never wish to be free either from your advice or 
 control." 
 
 When General Jackson was ordered to an independent 
 command in the valley, his old Brigade — " the Stonewall " — 
 was not permitted to accompany him. Ho went alone, at- 
 tended only by a portion of his staff. It was a great affliction 
 to his old troops to be left. The following extract refers to 
 this occasion : 
 
 ' " Cextrp:ville, October, 1861. 
 
 " My dear Father : I do not think that any man can take 
 General Jackson's place in the confidence and love of his 
 troops.' I wish I could go with him, though my hardships 
 should be more than doubled. I have learned to look up to 
 liira with implicit confidence, and to approacii him with per- 
 fect freedom, being always assured of a kind and ntt«ntivd 
 hearing. • 
 
62 SKETCHES. 
 
 " He afldressed liis Bnfjnde, as they were formed near their 
 encam})inent, just before lie left. Among otl^pr thinp^s he 
 spoko substantiullj thus; 'You were'tirst in the army of the 
 Shenandoah, you are first in the army of the Potomac. You 
 turned the tide of battle on the 21bt of July. You are first in 
 tlie aflections of your people, and lirst in the heart of your 
 General.' lie closed amid the ap])lauding shouts of his devot- 
 ed soldiers; sat for an instant lookin<i: his men steadily in the 
 face, an<l listening to their cheers, then turned, put spurs to 
 his horse, and dashed ofl:' to his new and hard field of labor." 
 
 After a tearful battle, he writes : " Our company has been 
 more than decimated, yet we are all willing, 1 trust, to fall in 
 the sajne way. The necessity is on us, and let* God deter- 
 mine what our sufierings shall be." 
 
 Writing from Centreville to his mijther, he sa^'s : *lIow 
 much I would give to be permitted to spend this Sabbath day 
 in Lexington. We have no house of worship here, and are 
 thus deprived of the delights of the Sanctuary. One day of 
 sacred rest like hundreds which have passed away, uncared 
 for, and unimproved, would be at this time a feast of fat 
 things to my soul. We are almost entirely cut off here from 
 the reviving influences of social worship. A prayer-meeting 
 everyi night, is in part a substitute. Mother,- in your anxiety 
 for my bodily comfort and welfare, I ho])e you will not i'orr 
 get my soul. The atmosphere surrounding that, is as cold as 
 that which surrounds my body. How much I wish that 
 the power of divine grace was more at work within me. But 
 though cast down I will not despair, but still trust in God." 
 
 Of the death of a fellow-soldier, another of the " more than 
 brave'' Liberty Hall Volunteers — a native and resident of 
 Rockbridge, he says : "You liave doubtless heard before tliis, 
 of the death of another of our company ; I refer to W. J. 
 Thompson. His body, 1 suppose, passed through Lexington 
 this morning, to reach his widowed mother .to-day. He' was 
 cut down almost in a day. Ko one here was aware of his 
 
8KETCHE8. 66 
 
 danger until the night before he was taken to tlie Junction. 
 The next news from him told us of his death. He died of 
 typhoid fever, rendered more incurable by some disease of the 
 stomach. He was a professing christian, honoring the name 
 by a character whicli was above reproach, and by 'a conduct 
 whicli evinced the sincerity of his profession. He was deliri- 
 ous much of the time after he became ill, but was permitted 
 to enjoy an hour or two of consciousness a short time before 
 he died. These hours he spent in making some necessary ar- 
 rangements of a secular nature, and in reading liis Bible, ac- 
 companied by audible prayer. We have therefore good 
 grounds to hope that he has entered liis home in heaven, 
 though his remains may now cast sorrow over his home on 
 earth. He is tlie tenth of our company who has fallen. 
 Surely the hand of the Lord is heav3'- upon us. But how little 
 apparent good results. I greatly fear that as His chastise- 
 ments have not softened our hearts and .thus been made a 
 savor of life unto life, they will prove a savor of death unto 
 death, in hardening them, and thus rendering us vessels of 
 wrath fitted for destruction. How sh'all we remedy this? 
 How shall we avert God^s anger, which seems daily to gather 
 strength? O that all hearts would . turn unto the Lord, and 
 by penitence and faith seek the only refuge from His wrath. 
 * Tarn thou us, O Lord, and we shall be turned.' Thi^ must 
 be our prayer, for God alone can h(Jp us. Father, you urge 
 me to seek to be useful. Would it be proper for me to con- 
 duct religious services whenever an opportunity offers ? And 
 should I connect the otlier parts of the service with a short 
 address*^ If you approve of this, I will seek such opportuni- 
 ties." 
 
 He wrote, first playfully and tiien seriously to hisi^'oungest 
 brother — a mere boy — as follows : 
 
i§ RKETCHT)». 
 
 " Centkeville, Nov. 1, 1861. 
 
 "Mv L)i:au BROTirER : Don't I owe you a letter ? M}' only 
 reatJoij for not answering yon sooner is, tlint my letters, no 
 matter to whom directed, are intended for all at home. But 
 as I wisK to get another letter from you. I will direct this one 
 to you. H. M.'s going home makes me feel like gf»iiig too. 
 Just think, after all my traveling, marching, fighting, since 
 I left home, only one day's travel will carry me hack. I can 
 leave here in the morning, and that night, I may sleep with 
 you in our old bed at home. Why can't 1 take this trip ? 
 Because I am not sick. I have done nearly everything the 
 other boys have done, but they have gotten scratched in bat- 
 tle, or are sick in some way, and gone home, while I am 
 ueither wounded nor sick, and must stay here. HoWever, I 
 will not coiHplain of this. It is much better to stay here well, 
 than to go home sick or wounded. Father spent several days 
 with us, and no doubt has told you all about his visit. Did 
 he tell you that I would not invito him to dine with me ? I 
 did advise him, for iiis own good, to dine with Gen. Jackson. 
 It 60 happened that day we had no bread for dinner, all we 
 had was l)eef, without bread or anything else. How could T 
 ask him to dine with me, when there was no dinner? I fear 
 he thinks our living is very scarce and very poor. But with 
 now aiid tlicn notliing to eat — generally a ])lenty, hnd always 
 enjoying what we have, jve get along very haj^pi^y. 
 
 " Yesterday afternoon, all the Virginia troops in this army 
 were assembled around the main fortification, where Gov. 
 Letcher, standing on the embankment, spoke to them as they 
 stood around it, and presented to the Colonel of each regi- 
 ment a Virginia flag. It was an exciting scene. The soldiers 
 looked well in their new winter suits, and their faces showed 
 that t\\oy had bravo and chet^rful hearts "within them. 
 
 " You closed your last letter by quoting from scripture a 
 prayer for me. You do not know how much gratified I was 
 at this. To know that those at home pray for me is a source 
 of great comfort and joy at all times. How glad I am when 
 
SKETCHES. 6S^ 
 
 S 
 
 yow join in that pra,yer. May this disposition to pray for me, 
 lead to earnest prayer for yourself, and to an implicit trust of 
 yourself to the Saviour of us all. Join with me, morning and 
 evening, and with all at home around the family altar, in com- 
 mitting ourselves to Him who can alone protect and save us." 
 
 TO HIS FATHER. 
 
 " I have received your letter of the 30th ult. Your spirits 
 seem depressed. I wish I could lighten the burden which 
 seems to oppress you. I hope it does not arise from my ab- 
 sence and the circumstances around me. Could you hear the 
 merry laugh of our boys, and see their gambols, often as joy- 
 ous as ever the college campus exhibited, you would not 
 think of us as in so sad a condition. We are now used to and 
 contented witli our position — especially since success begins 
 to crown our arms. 
 
 " I have done a little of late in the ministerial work. Mr. 
 Miller, the chaplain in our regiment, has called on me twice 
 to conduct praj'er-meetings. I felt some reluctance to do so, 
 but still found pleasure in complying with his request. I 
 made a short address at the second meeting. I am much 
 afraid that my life will be cut off, and that I shall fall as the 
 barren fig tree. Little has yet been done, and when shall I 
 do more ? Now is the time, but where are the fruits ? 
 
 " How much I long to sit once more within the house of 
 God at home. But the true temple of the Lord is the humblo 
 and the contrite heart.'' 
 
 He adds : " I am glad, father, that you always say some- 
 thing in your letters for my spiritual good. My wants are 
 far greater in this respect than you imagine. May the prayers 
 of parents so wonderfully blessed heretofore, and the privi- 
 leges we now enjoy, through the grace of God, conspire to 
 supply my spiritual necessities." 
 9 
 
CC PKKTCIIES. 
 
 Speakin*; of the conversion of a member of his company, he 
 says, "]r<>\v ha]»py it makes mc to hear of even one sinner 
 rctuniin*; to God." 
 
 Referring to his youngest brother, the only mcml)or of the 
 family not a ])rofe8sor of reHi;ion, he says, " I tremble ami join 
 with you all in prayer for T. I have a sweet and strung con- 
 fidence that the covenant will embrace all, and at length 
 gather ns to one home in Heaven." 
 
 He frequently concludes his letters to his jiarents thus: 
 " Hoping that God will yet restore me to you and the work of 
 the ministry, your devoted son." 
 
 To liis mother he says, "I am much h;i]i[iiiT lium ,\t>u, I 
 expect. Indeed I could not be more convft»rtable in camp. 
 Be cheerful, motheV, for God is with us both." 
 
 It has been stated that when Gen. Jackson left Centrevilje to 
 take conniKiiid in the valley, the Stonewall Brigade was not 
 permitted to go witli him. On his arrival at Winchester, Col. 
 Preston was despatched to Kichmond ibr the purpose of rep- 
 resenting to the authorities there, the importance of reinforc- 
 ing Gen. Jackson. This was accordingly done, and with 
 others, this mucli-loved Brigade was ordered to follow him. 
 This was joyful news to those who had parted, as we have 
 seen, so reluctantly with their honored and much-loved leader. 
 They were soon on their wa}', and the following letter describes 
 their march from Centrcville to the neighborhood of Winches- 
 ter, in November, 1861. 
 
 " My Dear Father : According to the orders received at 
 Centreville, and mentioned to you in my last letter, we marched 
 from that place to the Junction on last Saturday morning. 
 We reached the latter place about midday, expecting to take 
 the train for Strasburg in a short 'time. But we were disaji- 
 ]>ointcd. The train did not come for us until late in the night, 
 and we could not leave until Sunday morning. This delay 
 was made more distressing by the rain which fell fast all Sat- 
 
, SKETCHES. 67 
 
 urday afternoon, and continued for some time into the night. 
 "We had to take it without any shelter, keeping one side dry 
 by the fire while the other was drenched with rain. All that 
 we got to eat was such scraps as we ha])pcned to bring with 
 us, or could pick up by the wayside. But these things were 
 forgotten when the clear sun arose on Sunday morning. "We 
 rode all day, and at sunset reached Strasburg. After exercis- 
 ing much patience, which, you know, is seldom found in 
 hungry men, we got some supper, then spread our blankets 
 in the freight cars, and were soon lost in sleep. You may 
 know that few were able so to remember that Sabbath day as 
 to keej) it holy. Many forgot the day altogether, and were 
 surprised when reminded of it. I sought to keep my thoughts 
 on sacred subjects, thinking often of the delightful services 
 enjo3'ed at home, and longing for the privilege of joining in 
 them once more. The first so^^nd too that reached my ear on 
 entering Strasburg, just after sunset, was that of the church- 
 going bell. I greatly desired to obey its summons, but could 
 not. So, committing myself in secret to Him who watches 
 over me so constantly, I fell asleep. Monday morning, we left 
 Strasburg at 11 o'clock, and marched to this place, a distance 
 of fifteen miles, by sundown. It was the first long march we 
 had taken for many weeks ; but the boys stood it remarkably 
 well. My feet were blistered, but by the use of a prescription 
 mother gave me on leaving liome, they are alrcad}' almost 
 well. Our camp is on the borders of a beautiful forest, which 
 furnishes us at once with wood for our fires and leaves for 
 our beds. The lands around us are very rich ; almost every 
 hill is covered with flocks of sheep or herds of cattle — serving 
 to rcimpress me with the conviction that I have a glorious 
 country to fight for." 
 
 " "Wln'ch ESTER, December 24, 1861. 
 " My Dear Father : I wrote you a note as we were on our 
 w^ay to the Potomac. Our work is done, and last Sunday 
 night found us encamped on the spot we left on the preceding 
 
68 SKETCHEP. 
 
 Monday morning. Yesterday we received an order from Gen. 
 Jackson to report at once to liim on sjiecial duty. We came 
 joyfully at once, and onr company is now actinia as body guard 
 at his headquarters. We are encamped in a pretty lot on the 
 borders of the town, and liope soon to be very well situated. 
 
 " You may wish to hear of our expedition to the Potomac. 
 Its object was to destroy a dam in the river, wliich feeds the 
 Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. We reached the river Tuesday 
 night, marching fifteen miles the tirst day and thirteen the 
 second. We had no tents with us, and slept on the ground in 
 the woods every niglit. Only two or three companies were 
 engaged on the work at one time. The rest were reserved in 
 case an attack from the enemy, at any point, might require a 
 large force to repel it. Four regiments lay back about a 
 quarter of a mile from the river. One lay just over the brow 
 of a hill above the dam. A company of riflemen was sta- 
 tioned in a stone mill on the bank of the river to fire on the 
 enemy across the river. That the men might destroy the dam 
 without being fired upon by the enemy, a breastwork was 
 thrown up in the night below the dam and obliquing down 
 the river. This much was done before the enemy were aware 
 of our presence. But protected by the breastwork on one 
 side and tlie dam on the other, they were out of danger. To 
 get to and from their work they went and returned by night. 
 After thus working for some days, the enemy, on Thursday, 
 opened their cannon upon the mill in which were the riflemen. 
 One ball went through one wall and lodged in the other, and 
 a shell burst within the mill. Our men were therefore forced 
 to fly, but in doing so had to run a terrible gauntlet. One 
 narrow pathway up the hill for near 250 yards was the only 
 way of escape for them, and all along that })atli they were 
 exposed to the tire of several regiments from the opposite side 
 of the river. Our regiment, at the time, lay on the brow of 
 the hill above — heard the incessant fire and welcomed the 
 boys, as one by one they escaped unhurt from this shower of 
 balls. We too were unable to give them any help, because 
 
SKETCHES. 69 
 
 the enemy were so hidden behind tlie banks of the canal as to 
 be concealed from our view, and so far off as to be out of the 
 <ange of our guns. The firing at length ceased, and only one 
 of olir men, our townsman, Joshua Parks, had fallen. But all 
 were not yet safe. Ten sought shelter behind the trees and 
 were unable to move, lest their positions should be made 
 known and thus escape become impossible. All therefore 
 remained behind two or three trees with their dead compide 
 at their side, from morning till evening, afraid to move a limb 
 from its position. As dark came on they hoped to escape then 
 unseen by the eneni}', but before the sun was down the enemy 
 with their shells set fire to the mill, the light from which 
 delayed their escape still longer. I really do not see how anv 
 position could be more trying than this. It equals, in thrill- 
 ing interest, anything I ever read or heard of in Indian war- 
 fare. 
 
 " Danger was all around them. They were unable to help 
 themselves or get help from others, and even night did not 
 conceal them from their enemies. But at length the mill 
 burned down, and all came safe from the very jaws of death. 
 Capt. Edmundson, with several of his men, succeeded also in 
 recovering the body of poor Parks. His life would luiv^been 
 saved, and the rest of the company freed from all danger, if 
 Gen. Jackson's order had been received in time. His order 
 was to leave tlie mill when tlie workmen left the dam — before 
 daybreak. But this order was not delivered to the Captain in 
 time. It is peculiarly sad to hjse a life whicli might have been 
 saved — but I hope he was prepared, and certainly, as far as 
 this life is concerned, death met upon tlie utmost verge of our 
 State, in an effort to defend it against the invader, is full of 
 
 glory- 
 
 "After two days more, enough of the dam was destroyed to 
 turn off the water, and we were glad to turn our faces towards 
 Winchester. Our whole brigade was in a very critical posi- 
 tion. Look to the map, and you will sec Williamsport in a 
 bend of the river. On the left side of this bend is a Rutallcr 
 
70 SKETCHES. 
 
 one. Jiifit at tliis point is the dam, and within this peninsula, 
 not over a mile and a half wide, we lay all the time. From 
 both sides, therefore, we were exposed to the enemy's gmA, 
 and only avoided them by moving about frequently from ])lace 
 to place, s])ending our nights generally in the woods, close to 
 the river, and during the day returning to the open fields to 
 cook our food. From this funnel, however, we escnped on 
 Sa||irday morning, and reached onr old camp on Sunday night. 
 
 " 1 wrote to you that I had seen . My conversation 
 
 with him on tlie subject of religion was very gratifying. It is 
 
 glorious news to hear of other similar cases. I will see 
 
 as soon as possible, and also Mr. . On our marcli up 
 
 from the Potomac I fell in with . He introduced the 
 
 subject of religion, which, of course, was a most agreeable 
 to]>ic. It was the Sabbath, and much did our minds need 
 every helj) to keep our thoughts in tlie right channel. I will 
 seek to have further intercourse with him. 
 
 " I received recently from the Central Presbyterian office 
 
 some Testaments, $10 worth, the amount of money on hand 
 
 for our regiment. These I will sell, or give away, as seems 
 
 proper. Testaments are more needed here than guns or pcnoder. 
 
 ^ " Your affectionate son." 
 
 Young Parks, who was slain, was a worthy member of the 
 Presbyterian church. His body was brought to his native 
 place, and interred in the midst of an immense and sorrowful 
 assembly. 
 
 The persons indicated by the blanks towards the close of the 
 letter ure young men who left home destitute of all religious 
 concern, but who have become awakened, or hopefully j)iou8, 
 since they entered the army. 
 
 On Kew Year's day, 1862, they left Winchester, and the 
 following letter gives u vivid pictiwe of their march : 
 
SKICTCIIE8. 71 
 
 " Bath, Morgan Co., Jan. 4, 1862. 
 "My Deak Fatiiee: I wrote you a line just as we were 
 leaving Winchester, saying that we expected to inarch to 
 Ivonniey; but we were mistaken. You ^nll see where we are 
 b}" referring to the map. We have bee^ji on the march since 
 the first of January, at 2 o'clock, P. M., but liave come only 
 about forty miles. It has been the worst marcli in every res- 
 pect we liave ever taken. The roads were so bad, and the 
 wagons and horses so poor, that it was impossible to go more 
 than ten miles a day. Our company was separated from its 
 wagon with all its baggage and provisions, on Tliursday, 
 and we have not seen them since. By sending back men to 
 meet it, enough food has been brouglit to keep us from starv- 
 ing. But our blankets we have not seen for two days and 
 nights, and our tents have been sent back to Winchester to 
 relieve the wagon of its load. To make our condition still 
 worse, the weather lias become very wintiV. Thursday night 
 wc did not sleep at all — only nodded for a few moments around 
 the fires. Our company was with the General's wagons, and 
 behind us was a long train, wliose drivers were all yelling at, 
 and cursing, and beating their horses. We could only ad- 
 vance a few hundred yards at a time. When one wagon 
 stalled, all behind it had to wait until it could move again. 
 We were stopped in this way rei)eatcdly, but kcjjt struggling 
 on from daylight until 11 o'clock at night. We were then 
 stopped for so long a time, that we kindled large fires and pre- 
 pared as best we could to remain until morning. But at 2 
 o'clock^ A. M., General Jackson sent us an order to push for- 
 ward to him, a mile and a half in advance, if ]»06sible. We 
 started, but had not gone a fourth of a mile when we were 
 forced to wait until morning enabled the men to get a wagon 
 before us out of a mud-hole. By day-break we were up from 
 our fires and working on. After getting to the General, he 
 told us to march with c»ur regiment. We did so, but still met 
 with so many delays that we made no better progress. Just 
 after dark, while we marched on, the snow commenced falling 
 
TiJ BKETCireS. 
 
 very rapidly. You may imagine that a dreary prospect was 
 before us. We liad eaten nothing since morning, our wagon 
 was several miles before us, we had no shelter for the night, 
 and not even a blanket to protect us from the snow and the 
 cold. We have seen eomo hard times, but this was the worst 
 of all. Several wagons lay along the roadside, broken down ; 
 and one, with its team and all its baggage, with a sohlier on 
 the top of all, pitched over and rolled down a bank twenty feet 
 long. None however was injured. We at last came to our 
 camp-ground, and amid the driving snow and piercing cold, 
 the men began to collect wood for their fires, and to seek shel- 
 ter under the bushes. C Y- and I, with the captain's 
 
 permission, returned to a barn a mile back of us, and found a 
 bed in the hay and fodder. We slept pretty well, but were 
 glad to leave at day -break. We found the snow only an inch 
 or two deep, but it was freezing cold. We joined the regi- 
 ment just in time to march with it. I got my breakfast at a 
 house on the roadside. When we got within a mile or two of 
 this place we halted while General Jackson recounoitered to 
 see how he should drive the Yankees away. At length we 
 moved forward, but the fleet limbs of the enemy saved all but 
 twenty. We entered the town therefore with no loss of life, 
 and are quartered to-night in rooms which were occupied last 
 night by the enemy. They were only, I hear, some six or 
 eight hundred strong. We are in one of the houses of the 
 Berkley Springs. This is a happy close to a most dreary 
 march. So now let the memory of the past only stimulate to 
 wanner gratitude for our safe deliverance from danger and 
 hanlshi]), and give us stronger confidence for the future. The 
 Ila^id that has helped will continue to help; and now, with a 
 happy good-night to you all, I close my Icttier to enjoy a good 
 night's rest in a house by a fire. 
 
 " Your affectionate son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
SKETCHES. 73 
 
 At a well known period in the history of tliis war, lie wrote 
 to his father thus : 
 
 "February 5, 1862. 
 " There is but one feelinn; with us — that of perfect devotion 
 to Gen. Jackson. With him we are ready to go anywhere, 
 and to endure anything. But if he is to bo run down, our 
 spirit is utterly broken, and we can never re-enter the service 
 with cheerful hearts. But I trust his resignation wilT not be 
 accepted, and if so, all will be well again, and our noble" com- 
 mander will come forth as triumpliantly from the assaults of 
 Southern /riendsRS he has done from the "bullets of Northern 
 enemies. The Government must know how; essential he is to 
 the success of the Southern cause." 
 
 The year for w^iich he had enlisted was approaching its 
 termination, and the question of re-enlistment gave him much 
 concern. He was not long undecided. The following, letter 
 to his father explains his views on the subject : 
 
 " "WmcHESTEK, March 4, 1862. ; 
 " Yesterday the order came very unexpectedly for each 
 Captain to muster his men for re-enlistment. We had to 
 decide the question during the day. Few were prepared to 
 decide so important a question on so short notice. After no 
 little anxious thought, with prayer for divine guidance, I de- 
 cided to re-enlist.' Some of the reasons for doing so are these. 
 Althougli my year expires in June, I consider it my duty to 
 remain in tlie army until next fall, when the Seminary term 
 commences, and so far as we can now see, there would be no 
 better reason for leaving the army then than exists now. The 
 condition of our country must become, during the summer, 
 better or worse. If better, Gen. Jackson says my reasons 
 would be sufficient to secure me a disciiarge from the service 
 to return to tlie Seminary. If worse, I wisli to remain wliere 
 I am. I need not say how very important it is for the preser- 
 vation of our army that as many of its as possible should stand 
 10 • 
 
74 BKKTCHES. 
 
 firm ill our places, resolved never to give up the cause wo 
 have espoused. In doing this, every one must sacrifice a 
 great deal. In my own case it cost me a great struggle, for it 
 removes far ofi" the most cherished object of my heart. The 
 ministry is still before me. On it my best afiFections fasten, 
 and in it are wrapped np my brightest hopes. Nothing, 
 therefore, could give me greater pain than to have any barrier 
 placed between me and the ministry, or to have any veil cast 
 over the hopes connected with it. But yet there are good 
 reasons for my remaining in the army. 
 
 " It has heen to me a school which I much needed, and 
 from it much has been learned that was almost essential to my 
 success ih the world, and which could" scarcely have been 
 learned anywhere else. Tliree years spent in the army, if I 
 am spared, will do much to fit me for the ministry. Besides, 
 how is our army to be supplied with religious reading ? We 
 have very few chaplains. Unless, therefore, there are some 
 who will be glad to receive and distribute Testaments and re- 
 ligious books, this work will be wofully neglected, and the 
 results must be disasti-ous. I have sought to do a. little to 
 supply this want — little indeed it was — yet, wherever the good 
 word of God falls, we may hope for fruit unto eternal life. 
 And if the ])lan suggested in one of my. recent letters, to get 
 permission, without a regular license from Presbytery, to act 
 somewhat in the caj^acity of chaplain, in the absence of a 
 regularly licensed minister, could be earned out, it would 
 give me more liberty, and enable me to do more good. 
 
 " "With such views as these, not wjthout hesitation, I admit, 
 my course has been chosen. I regret that time was not 
 allowed me to consult you more fully, but in your last letter^ 
 you threw the resj)onsibility of deciding entirely on me. I 
 hope that it is for the best. My mind and heart are v^^ith you 
 all at home, yet free from anxiety, because God is with us all," 
 
SKETCHES. 
 TO HIS SISTER, aiBS. m'cKUM. 
 
 " Let me hear how tlic Seminary prospers. I cannot be 
 there, but stiy. I am anxious to licar how many are there. 
 The war has put a great barrier across my ]->ath, but one 
 which cannot be avoided. It must be crossed. If I get 
 through safely, I shall enter upon the Avork of the ministry 
 with unspeakable delight. I long to spend ni}'- life in the 
 work of saving souls, and to be kept back now when just on 
 the verge of commencing my work, is like being kept from 
 home when it is just in sight. But I may do more good here 
 than in the m^nistr^^ I bear raj delay therefore, with patience." 
 
 There were many in the Confederate army whose views and 
 spirit were substantially tlie same. There were twelve or 
 fifteen in the company to which he belonged, and the influ- 
 ence they exerted was eminently useful, 
 
 " Winchester, March 7, 1862. 
 
 "My Dear Father: Your letter, with mother's, came yes- 
 terday. This was a real feast to me, and I reply at once. 
 
 " The army and the community here are still kept in pain- 
 ful suspense, as to what is to be done. The impression is 
 general that the place will be evacuated, and some of the citi- 
 zens are already leaving. But no one knows what is to be 
 done. The soldiers only ha^ve orders to be ready to move at 
 any time, but when, or in what direction, is wholW unknown to 
 U8. My own impre8si<jn is, that Gen. Jackson will fight, unless 
 they come in overwhelming numbers. Charlestown is their 
 chief point of rendezvous, and if they move from there towards 
 Winchester, a force from Lcesburg can easily fall in their rear, 
 by the help of which we could hope to defeat them. And if, 
 as you remember. Gen. Jackson drew up his Brigade of four 
 regiirtents, last summer, and watched more than 'an hour for 
 Patterson's whole army to advance to the attack, we may 
 expect him to dispute the enemy's advance now. But what- 
 ever comes, may we be ready to meet it. The only way to 
 
76 SKKTCHKft. 
 
 have anv true peace of mind is just to be ready tor anything:, 
 80 that, come what may, we shall be prepared to bear it. It 
 is not however, anxiety for nivself that breaks niv peace. 
 Learnin:::, throiii;h your letter received yesterday, that you had 
 thrown the responsibilit}' of volunteering on T., gave me moi*e 
 anxiety than anythin<r of a personal nature that has occurred 
 during the war; yet it may be best for him. So far as this life 
 is concerned, it is far better that every Southern man should 
 die, resisting the ^N'orthern invader, than bow his neck to tho 
 cruel yoke he seeks to impose upon us. And as U) our eternal 
 interests, the only way to secure them, is by faithfully follow- 
 ing the path of duty. And what duty' can be more imperative 
 or sacred than resistance to the fanatical power which now 
 rules the North, and seeks to subjugate or destroy us? The 
 path of the soldier, therefore, full of temptation and danger, 
 may become the way of life to many. The instances of this 
 among our Lexington boys, should encourage all to hope for 
 the best." 
 
 TO HIS MOTHER. 
 
 " Your letter, was a treat to me. The expressions of affec- 
 tion, and the accompan^nng prayers for me, are grateful to the 
 heart. You expect us to move forward very soon, either to 
 another great battle on our own soil, or to invade that of our 
 enemies. Of course 1 cannot tell jvhat a day ma}'^ bring forth, 
 but I see no reason to expect a great battle so soon. I am 
 ready, I hope, for anything. I do not feel like turning my 
 face homeward, however, until all at homo are relieved from 
 fear of the enemy. I wish to return to enjoy with you the 
 pleasures of home in peace, and not to share the anxieties 
 which now distress you. Let us oidy bear up with Christian 
 firmness, and iiglit with courage, trusting in God, and we may 
 hope for a speedy close to the war. 
 
 "Thank T. for the prayer M'ith wliich he closes liis letter to 
 me. O ! if he were a Christian, how much more willing I 
 should be to die. 
 
SKETCHES. " 77 
 
 " Mrs. Gen. Jackson arrived yesterday. She came to head- 
 quarters just as Bishop Johns was about to begin evening 
 worship. Her arrival occasioned some excitement. She looks 
 very well. I had the pleasure of speaking to her after the 
 service had ended. Her face, as always, seemed like sunshine. 
 
 " Bishop Johns preached for us two very- good sermons. 
 They were simple, earnest, faithful proposals of Christ, to his 
 hearers. J enjoyed them botli very much, and hope they did 
 good to all. 
 
 " Much love to one and all, but especially to j^ou, my de- 
 voted mother, from your son, HUGH." 
 
 TO HIS YOUNGEST BROTHER. 
 
 "The recent disasters, and especially that.flt Fort Qonclson, 
 have not discouraged but aroused the army, and they are more 
 anxious to do something to redeem our cause than ever. I am 
 glad that the same effect has been produced among the people, 
 many of whom ought to have been in the army long ago. No 
 man ought to permit himself to be drafted. It is my intention 
 now to remain in the army. Although you are not yet seven- 
 teen years of age, I wish you could be here. But, T., I am 
 afraid to see your life in so ihiuch danger. I should tremble 
 far more for you than for myself. If I am killed, I have a good 
 hope, that I should at once enter Heaven, and be happy for- 
 ever. This hope cheers and animates me at all times, so that 
 while death walks on every side, no tormenting fears arise. 
 But alas ! how different with those, who, unprepared for death, 
 meet it on the Held of battle. I have heard sucli men cry to 
 God for mercy in the midst of the battle, when their cry seemed 
 louder than the roar of the cannon, and certainly pierced the 
 heart with keener angyiish. * 
 
 " How then could I endure to sec you placed in danger of 
 
 » such a fate ? Will you then, at (Incc, seek preparation for 
 
 death, so that whether it meet you at home, with everything 
 
 to promote your bodily comfort, or amid the horrid carnage of 
 
 the battle-field, it will be without terror? Whv not, at once 
 
78 SKKTCHES. 
 
 do 80? Why wait cue day, oiio hour longer^ Everythiuir 
 calls you to decide quickly for God and against sin. Every 
 day you live, out of Christ, sin is binding you more and more 
 firmly in its fetters, and may thus hold you as its captive for- 
 ever. I beseech ^^ou therefore, to l)reak off from every form 
 of sin. Tear yourself away from it by fleeing at once to Jesus 
 Christ, the only Saviour from sin and death. Do you never 
 feel anxious to, be a Christian ? Wheii you sit in >our room 
 at night, with your Bible at your side, does something never 
 whisper to you — open, read, obey that l)ook, that you may bo 
 happy forever? I know it does. Tiiis is the Spirit of God, 
 speaking to you. Heed its voice — searcli tlie Scriptures, an<l 
 you shall find eternal life. I wish I could write more to you, 
 but I cannot to-day. My prayers follow you day and night. 
 But even this will avail nothing, if you will persist in rejecting 
 the Saviour. The question of life or death, salvation or. eter- 
 nal destruction, must be decided by yourself. The only reason 
 why sinners are lost is, that they ' will not come to Christ, that 
 he may give them life.' It is their own fault. How will you 
 decide? Decide at once for Christ, I do beseech you. 
 Your fond brotluM', 
 
 HUGH." * 
 
 To his mother he writes: "You have, no doubt, seen the 
 Message of President Davis to Congress on tlie recent victory. 
 It is tlie most becominji: and beautiful thin": of the kind I ever 
 saw. It displays joy and gratitude, but no exultation nor 
 boasting. It is the language of a man who feels his need of 
 divine help — appreciates our danger — feels our sorrows — and 
 rejoices in our good more than in his own. How desj)icable 
 do our enemies appear in the light of this Message. 
 
 "If this Message be, as I believe it is, an .exponent of the 
 
 feelings of the Southern li'eart, it is even more cheering than 
 
 .the victory which called it forth. If we do not now forget the 
 
 source of our power, and who it is ahSne that can give us the 
 
SKETCHES. ♦ i Vi 
 
 victory, we may be assured that our God will not leave rts to 
 the will of our enemies, l)ut will rid us of them forever." 
 
 Thus pure was his piety, and elevated was his patriotism. 
 His thoughts and his prayers were given habitually to his God 
 and his country. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1862, General Jackson was compelled 
 by greatly superior numbers to abandon Wincliester and move 
 slowly up the valley. The following letter to his father de- 
 scribes the battle of Kernstown, the first that was fouglit after 
 the evacuation of Winchester. 
 
 " March 29, 1862. 
 
 " My Dear Father : "We moved from Strasburg in the 
 morning, expecting after a slight skirmish, to spend the eve- 
 ning in Winchester. With merry hearts we marched on. 
 After seeing the General's wagons safeh' across C^dar Creek, 
 our company went ahead more rapidl3^ [His company was 
 body guard to General Jackson.] The roar of cannon soon 
 proved that there was some obstacle in our way. About 
 noon, it was ascertained thq,^ we should have a battle. This 
 had been so little expected that many had left their guns and 
 cartridge boxes in the wagons. I borrowed cartridges from 
 others, and went on. Our whole force could not have exceeded 
 3,500. Our company marched to a point within six miles of 
 Winchester, and then turned into the fields on our left in search 
 of our liegiment. After going nearly a mile, we reached it just 
 in time to move with it- to a new position further to the left. 
 As we moved from the woods, the enemy's artillery opened 
 fire Upon iis. Their shells passed very near us, but no one 
 was struck. Some of the shells fired at us, struck the ground 
 *and rebounded, forming a graceful curve, and leaving a track 
 of smoke behind them, exploded like rockets, thirty feet above 
 our heads. l>ut for the danger, the scene would have been 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Our artillery passed bcyoivd us, and to our left, drawing 
 the enemy's fire from us to theittselves. During the cannon- 
 
so * • SKETCHES. 
 
 ading, we lay qniot, some talking and even laughing, wliilo 
 others were silent and thoughtful. We were soon ordered 
 to march beyond the artillery. The crack of the rifles and 
 the whistling of the balls, soon told us what we must now 
 expect. Soon volleys of musketry seemed to shake the hills 
 with their incessant roar. I could but wonder how any one 
 could escape. But our Liberty Hall boys moved forward at a 
 quick step to the brow of a hill where the enemy were in full 
 view. From this point we continued to fire about an hour. 
 I do not remember to have seen a man near me struck, al- 
 though I saw the blue-coated enemy lying dead and wounded, 
 and now and then others would fall. A regiment on our left, 
 perhaps the 37th, saw the enemy trying to reach a stone fence, 
 and starting, /cached it first. From this position they poured 
 a deadly fire into their ranks, which together with our fire on 
 their flank, soon forced them to retreat. We exulted for an 
 instant, but they soon renewed the fire from the top of a hill. 
 Our men were nearly worn down by constant exertion against 
 men who ^ere reinforced every few moments by fresh troops. 
 They succeeded at length in getting on our right, and threat- 
 ening to cut us oft' entirely from any wJiy of escape. "We 
 therefore retreated, loading, and firing on them as we ran. 
 Once, when I. looked back, I saw the old "stars and stripes" 
 waving over the ground we had just left. This vexed me 
 more than anything else during the day. A party of us pres- 
 ently halted and fired into a party of them. They scattered 
 like a flock of partridges. A little while after this, I was out 
 of sight and saw them no more. Morrison and Lyle (their 
 Captain and 1st Lieutenant) were ,with me just before we 
 stopped to fire this last time. T did not see them again. Tliey 
 went too far to the right, and fell into the hands of the Yankee 
 cavalry. If taken to Winchester, they will find warm friends. 
 If we leave behind us when forced to retreat, as true and loyal 
 Virginians, as are the people of Winchester, the. Yankees may 
 march through the whole land, and yet accomplish no more 
 towards our subjugation, than the arrow which pierces the air 
 
SKETCHES. 81 
 
 and leaves no trace behind. Oar loss in killed, wounded and 
 prisoners will be a little over 400. The Yankee papers ac- 
 knowledge that they had 8,000. men engaged, and 850 killed 
 and wounded on their side. These numbers may, with truth, 
 be doubled. One of their Colonels, and fourteen of their 
 Captains and Lieutenants were killed. Our soldiers are not 
 discouraged in the least. Our confidence in General Jackson 
 is undiminislied, and we will follow him with as mnch enthusi- 
 asm as ever. I most firmly believe that God is on our side, 
 and on this, as an immovable rock, we can rely. 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 After the battle just described, General Jackson fell back 
 slowly up the valley, witli only about 4,000 men, in the face 
 of the enemy numbering at least 20^000. On reaching Har- 
 risonburg, he turned to the left, leaving the great road leading 
 from Winchester to Staimton in uninterrupted possession of 
 the eneni}-. Neither friends nor foes knew where he had gone. 
 The former, under the impression that he had abandoned the 
 valley, were much alarmed, and the latter, unwilling to return 
 or to pursue him, and afraid tliat if they continued on towards 
 Staunton, he miglit fall upon their rear, concluded to take 
 formal possession of the vilhige of Harrisonburg, and there 
 pillage and burn, and play the vulgar tyrant in general, so as 
 fully to let our people elsewhere know what they liad to expect 
 if subjugated, and thus fire tliem with a fiercer spirit of resist- 
 ance. Tlie sensitive and refined lieart sickens at the recital of 
 their brutalities. 
 
 Jackson encamped for a short time at Swift Run Gap, in a 
 gorge of the Blue Ridge, nineteen miles from Harrisonburg. 
 He then crossed the mountain, to Meacham's River in Albe- 
 marle, thence recrossing at Rockfish Gap, hastened on through 
 Staunton, towards tlie Alleghany, to pay his respects to Mil- 
 roy at McDowell. 
 
b3 SKETCHES. 
 
 The inarch from Swift Run Gap to Meachani's River, the 
 most lahorions and painful they had ever taken, is thus de- 
 scribed in a letter to his father: 
 
 ""We are in Albemarle county, eleven miles south of Meach- 
 am's River. Yesterday and last night we made the worst 
 march we have ever taken. Our wagons started about 7 
 o'clock in the morning, but could not go over eight miles 
 during the day and night. The troops were behind, and dark 
 found us only two or three miles from the camp we left in the 
 morning. The remainder of the distance we came after night- 
 fall, wading much of the way through mud and water, ankle 
 and sometimes knee deep. Thisis no exaggeration, buta simple 
 fact. The men became perfectly reckless, and plunged into 
 mudholes and ponds of water with a yell or a laugh. We 
 passed a camp on the wayside, and instead of finding our 
 wagons there, were told' that they were three or four miles 
 ahead. We complained some, but pushed on. Most fortu- 
 nately we had sent on a man from each mess, to build fires 
 and prepare supper for the rest. The thought of fire and 
 supper cheered many a heavy heart, and when, between nine 
 and ten o'clock, we reached our camp, shouts of laughter 
 echoed through the woods. Every one had an Tliad of woes to 
 recount, spiced however, always with something ludicrous, and 
 we all made merry over the toils and mishaps of the way. To- 
 day we have remained quiet, waiting for the troops behind to 
 come up. To-morrow morning, we leave to go east — as some 
 say. But whore we are to go, for what purpose and with what 
 result, no one knows. If God be our guide, all will be well." 
 
 On the same march he adds: "It pains me to leave the val- 
 ley, yet it did me good to get into Albemarle. How pleasant 
 it would be to spend a week or two in Charlottesville, my 
 native place. But I do not expect this. We hear that the 
 people of Rockbridge are becoming alarmed. It would be 
 painful to have all communication with home cut ofi". But 
 
SKETCHES. 83 
 
 this, and even worse can be borne, provided we can only repel 
 the invader. If his unholy feet shonhl ever touch the soil of 
 Rockbridge, I sincerely hope that the undefended citizens will 
 remuin at kome. It is useless to run away. Yes, let them 
 remain in their invaded homes, calmly but firmly refusing to 
 yield any obedience, or show any favor to those who thus 
 come to rob and to ruin them. When I can do nothing else 
 for my own dear home, and the loved ones there, I can pray 
 that God would give them courage in the face of their foes, 
 and submission to his holy will." 
 
 These fears were groundless as to his home, and the sorrow 
 he felt at leaving the beautiful valley in which that home 
 stands, was soon removed, for they did move the next morning, 
 to pass, as we have seen, to Staunton, and so to the north- 
 west. 
 
 In a letter, written at Franklin, in Pendleton County, he 
 refers briefly to the battle with Milroy at McDowell, and to 
 their situation at Franklin. 
 
 " Our Brigade was not in the battle. It was fought at great 
 disadvantage on our part, but victory, at length, rewarded the 
 resolute bravery of our troops. They fought as if resolved 
 never to surrender. As we marched to the tield after the 
 battle, we met many wounded, who cheered us on, boasting 
 that they had got the field at last. We hear good news from 
 Williamsburg. May the power of the enemy soon be broken, 
 and their armies scattered to the four winds. 
 
 "The enemy now took position before us, and we were 
 brought forward, confident that a battle was at hand. Now, 
 our regiment was in front. Several companies were sent for- 
 ward as skirmishers. These were met by the skirmishers of 
 the enemy, and a brisk fire began, which is usually the iin'tia- 
 tive to a general engagement. One of their shells, aimed with 
 great precision at a point at which Gen. Winder, Col. Ronald 
 and several of us were standing, fell within four feet of me and 
 
84r SKETCHES. 
 
 exploded, covering me with earth. But, ' no one was hurt.' 
 My escape was wholly providential. How gracious has been 
 God's care of me. Oh ! that I could thank him and love him 
 as I ought. • 
 
 " Yesterday, we remained quiet, observing the morning as a 
 Sahhath^ having religious services in several regiments, and in 
 the afternoon moved back several miles to this point. [When 
 a Sabbath as such was lost. Gen. Jackson's rule was to observe 
 the first quiet day he could command, as a Sabbath.] We 
 have been pursuing the enemy down a ravine, in which they 
 can choose many positions, from which they could only be 
 dislodged by storm at the point of the bayonet, and through a 
 country which produces nothing but maple sugar. !Not one 
 acre in a thousand can be cultivated. We are on the march 
 again, and en-route, I think, for Harrisonburg. We are all fa- 
 tigued and our feet are sore. Otherwise we are Avell." 
 
 They hurry on, and the next we hear, is tliat having spent 
 the Sabbath as a day of rest, at the Augusta Springs, they 
 meet the enemy. He says to his father : 
 
 " We are in Front Royal. The enemy fled in haste yester- 
 day afternoon. Several hundred were taken prisoners. Few 
 were killed on either side. Captain Sheets was killed while 
 scouting round the town. I would not have lost him for a 
 thousand Yankee prisoners. We took the enemy here by snr- 
 ])rise. Two Yankee trains, heavily laden with commissary 
 stores, arrived from Alexandria just in time to fall into ourhands. 
 There were, I hear, several thousand barrels of flour and several 
 hundred sacks of salt, with many other valuable articles. We 
 move this morning towards Winchester, distant nineteen miles. 
 The force of the enemy here is not known. But from what we 
 hear, it does not exceed 10,000. Tom (his youngest brother), 
 was left at Harrisonburg, completely worn out. Many of the 
 boys are broken down. II. M. could not keep up with us, 
 yesterday. He is well, but foot-sore, and much wearied. 
 
SKETCHES. 85 
 
 We marclied twenty-five miles yesterday, and can do the 
 same to-day, if thereby we can only drive out the invader. 
 Send my clothes as soon as possible, as I am much in want. 
 "Warmest love to all. I hope soon to date a letter to you from 
 AVinchester." 
 
 This hope was soon realized, for his next is dated 
 
 " WiNCHESTEEf, May 27, 1862. 
 
 "My Dear Father: General Jackson has gained a complete 
 victory over Banks, putting his army to utter rout, and cap- 
 turing several thousand prisoners. This brilliant success began 
 at Front ifoyal on Friday afternoon. Saturday morning our 
 army pushed on towards Winchester by two routes. A part 
 of General Ewell's force moved directly towards this place. The 
 rest, together with General Jackson and his army, turned to 
 the left towards Middletown, situated live miles from Stras- 
 burg and thirteen from Winchester. Banks, with about 8,000 
 men, had l)een at Strasburg, expecting us to come directly 
 down the valley, (^n Friday night he heard what had oc- 
 curred at Front Royal, and on Saturday morning made a hasty 
 retreat towards Winchester. But our forces came into Mid- 
 dletown as his were passing through, and cut his army into two 
 parts, forcing tlie smaller portion to hasten back to Strasburg. 
 The}' l»urned the bridge over Cedar Creek, to prevent our pur- 
 suit. What became of them I have not heard. It is reported 
 that many of them were captured, and the rest, I hope, arc 
 making all haste towards the Ohfo river. We, at once, 
 turned to pursue the other and larger portion of liis forces. 
 Ashby's cavalry charged up the road towards Middletown, as 
 Banks passed down, and at once a panic and a rout ensued. 
 Some of the enemy's cavalry were killed, but the most of them 
 threw themselves from their horses .and fled. Almost an entire 
 regiment was so frightened that they could make no resistance. 
 
 " As we pursued the enem}', the road was lined on eitlier side 
 with wagons — many left without horses — others upset, with 
 
86 SKETCHES. 
 
 their contents scattered in all directions, and tou-ards evening 
 we found dozens of wagons on fire. We did not lialt as night 
 came on. Tlie Yankees at length became somewhat stub- 
 born, and hiding themselves on the road-side, fired on our 
 men as they passed. To be ambushed thus in the dark was 
 fitted to throw our men into confusion. And to some extent 
 it did so. But skirmishers were sent in search of them, and 
 while they fought the enemy in the bushes, order was re- 
 stored to the ranks. They at length gave back, and we moved 
 on. We fell into an ambush several times, but General Jack- 
 son seemed determined not to be stopped, and we pushed on 
 untilthree o'clock in the morning, when we lay down on the road 
 side, a mile and a half from Winchester, and rested until the 
 day broke. We rose, shook the dew from our limbs, and 
 moved forward. I saw General Jackson ahead, watching the 
 Yankee skirmishers, and sendiiTg some of our men to meet 
 them. In a few moments firing commenced. The 27th "Vir- 
 ginia, under Colonel Grigsby, drove in the enemy's skirmishers, 
 and took the hill on which they were posted. The cannonading 
 soon became brisk. The Yankee sharpshooters did us much 
 more injury than their artillery, killing two of the Rockbridge 
 battery, and wounding most of the eighteen who were wounded 
 durino- the battle. Once our artillery were compelled to yield 
 a little, but in a short time our infantry advanced to meet tliat 
 of the enemy. The tide now turned in our favor. The enemy 
 \)Yoke — our men advanced with loud cheers — then they rushed 
 forward, driving the excited foe before them. ' Forward,' 
 was now the command to the whole army, and in a few min- 
 utes, we were rushing through the streets of Winchester, amid 
 the most rapturous cheers of the citizens, who had sought shel- 
 ter from the balls in cellars and elsewhere, but now they ran 
 forth frantic with delight. We paused long enough to shake 
 hands with acquaintances whom we happened to see on the 
 wayside. Many of the frightened and retreating foe dispersed 
 themselves through the town, begging the people to shelter 
 them hi their houses, kitchens, or even stables. The prisoners 
 
SKETCHES. ST 
 
 may be numbered by thousands. The rout was more com- 
 plete than that at Manassas. Most of our troops were worn 
 .down, and stopped five miles above Winchester. It would 
 make your blood boil to hear of the insolence and cruelty of 
 the enemy practiced on the people of Wincliester, from Gen- 
 eral Shields down to the lowest Dutchman that wallowed in 
 the streets. But the crowning act of all was their setting fire 
 to the town. One street was in a blaze when we entered, and 
 a large building in the heart of the town, filled with medicine, 
 was fired, but happily extinguislied. So long as their senti- 
 nels dared to remain, no one was jlermitted to attempt to 
 extinguish the fire. Those are the friends who come oidy to 
 protect us, and to seek a more permanent union with us. De- 
 liver me from such friends." 
 
 We have already learned that Capt. H. R. Morrison aiul 
 Lieut. John Lyle were captured at tlie battle of Kernstown. 
 They were immured in a dismal prison at Fort Delaware, 
 wlicre for about five months they endured much luxrdsliip. 
 When the offices thus made vacant were filled, the company 
 conferred the captaincy on the subject of these sketches. On 
 his election, he wrote to liis fatlier as follows : 
 
 " The result surprised me greatly. I had hoped for nothing 
 liigher than tlie lieutenancy, and was not confident of that. 
 But the question was decided in my favor, and with much 
 fear I acce])t the position. I do not expect any increase of 
 happiness, but an increase of responsibility, leading to much 
 perplexity and toil. The care, the kindness, the ceaseless 
 efibrt called for, will greatly increase my need of help from 
 the grace of God. To this source I look, praying that by ex- 
 ample and by effort the men may become good soldiers and 
 good Christians. I ask that all at home will pray that I may 
 be fitted for the position I now hold." 
 
88 SKETCHES. 
 
 On the same subject he writes to his brother Henry : 
 
 "Promotion in itself brings neitlier peace nor happiness, 
 and unless it increases one's usefulness it is a curse. An op- 
 portunity is now afforded for exerting a wider influence for 
 good, and if enabled to improve this aright I shall then be 
 happier than before. My life is now given to the army, and 
 will be spent in it, )3ven to the end of the war. But if nw life 
 is spared to see the end, and we are successful in our struggle, 
 it will be the delight of my heart to spend the remainder of it 
 in the work of the mini^ry. I am not fond of the arin3\ In- 
 deed many things in it are hateful to me ; but nothing is so 
 much so as the invader of my native soil. 
 
 "Tom has joined our company recently. I feel most anx- 
 iotis about his soul. This is now more than ever under my 
 influence and in my hands. This tliought makes me tremble. 
 I can only pray that Gdll would visit him with His grace and 
 save him. Let us never forget him in our prayers; for it may 
 be that while you pray he is exposed to all the dangers of the 
 battle, or possibly just on the verge of eternity. If unpre- 
 pared, how sad will be his end. The thought is dreadful. 
 Let us trust in God, and be instant in prayer." 
 
 The next battle in which he participated was that near 
 Harrisonburg and at Port Kepublic. 
 
 ^" Brown's Gap, June 11, 1862. 
 
 " My Dear Father : General Jackson has fought two more 
 very hard battles ; defeated the enemy both times, drove him 
 as far as he wished, and then extricated himself and saved 
 everything from the trap set by the enemy to catch him. Our 
 regiment was not in the thickest of either fight, and no one of 
 our company is hurt, though the balls have made holes in 
 some of their clothes. Our army had fallen back to Port 
 Republic, and we hoped to rest for several days, and prepare 
 for another camjtaign. "With these thoughts, we were lying 
 
SKETCHES. 89 
 
 in oiif camp, on Sunday morning, the 8th instant. A bright 
 sun made all around look beautiful and cheerful. We were 
 expecting soon to meet for public worship, and to spend the 
 day in calm and holy communion with God and his people. 
 Suddenly, artillery opened fire within sight of us. Tlie enemy 
 had come up the soutli side of the Shenandoah, and were 
 trying to destroy the bridge at Port Republic, which was 
 our only way of escape, if tlie enemy j^ressed upon us. Their 
 cavalry at the same instant liad dashed into Port Republic, 
 seized Major Crutchtield, of General Jackson's staff, and the 
 General himself had to run fast to slip them. They liad a 
 piece of artillery in Port Republic. He passed near, and 
 gave them some order, and dashed on to our camp, ordered 
 the long roll to be beat, and in an instant we were pushing 
 down the road. Our infantry pickets had now cleared Port 
 Republic of the enemy, retaken Major Crutchfield, with the 
 guard over him, and captured that piece of artillery. Our 
 artillery was already in position, firing at the enemy across 
 the Shenandoah. We came up just in time to witness the 
 beautiful scene. The Rockbridge and Alleghany batteries 
 fired with great accuracy, and every shot told with wonderful 
 eflt'ect. The enemy were in the open bottom, we on a com- 
 manding blufi". They were soon thrown into disorder, and 
 ran oflf in a liurry. We saw them, their guns glistening, their 
 flags and all, and it did us good to seu them in such a hurry 
 to get out of our country. We remained where we were to 
 guard the position ; but it was soon evident that the main 
 army of the enemy was advancing from Harrisonburg. This 
 was only a feint to attract our attention, cut off our only way 
 of escape, while their main force advanced from the other 
 side to crush and seize our whole army. Tiiis was their plan. 
 One part was already foiled, and in a wink General Jackson 
 was moving the rest of his army to check their advance from 
 Harrisonburg. The artillery soon opened, four or five miles 
 from us. It grew faster and louder, till there was an incessant 
 12 
 
90 SKKTCUKS. 
 
 roar, ■wliicli made cverythiiioj quake. It was more inc(^ssaiit, 
 louder, and continued loniijer than any other cannonading I 
 ever heard. It lasted from 10, A. M., to 3, P. M., which, 
 with the cannonading near us in the morning, made the light 
 with artillery alone continue over six hours on th.at day. The 
 re])ort came to the infantry that our forces were falling back, 
 and we received the order to withdraw from our ]>i>t;itions. 
 Tliis, however, was sc^n countermanded. We remained in 
 our places, and from the sound we could tell that the enemy 
 were frivinj; wav. How earnest was our praver that God 
 would grant us complete success, and our prayer was answered 
 beyond our highest expectations. The enemy were driven 
 back live or six miles, and after dark we were recalled to 
 camp, back of Port Republic, to hear more particularly of 
 one of the hardest battles of the war, in which an inferior 
 force, retreating, and attacked by one larger and fresher than 
 itself, yet rallied so rapidly, and resisted the enemy so bravely, 
 that he was compelled to give back and retreat. It was one 
 of our most wonderful victories. But our work was not yet 
 done. "We must attend to the force on the south side of the 
 river. The morning dawn found us marching on a foot-bridge 
 constructed over the soutli branch of the IShenandoah, and 
 down the south bank of the river. Gener.il Jackson, as usual, 
 was leading us. It was venturing a great deal to attack this 
 force of the enemy. They were not so numerous as we, but 
 there were at least two, and, I believe, three brigades of in- 
 fantry, besides cavalry and artillery. AVe 4nust light theiUj 
 too, in a narrow bottom, between the river and the mountain. 
 And if the enemy towards Ilai-risoiiburg should return, they 
 could take the first position we had on Sunday morning, and 
 compel us to yield. ]3nt ' nothing venture, nothing win ;' so 
 we go ahead. We saw the eft'ects of our lire the da}' before. 
 Dead and wounded Yankees lay along the road, and the trees 
 and houses were badly torn by the balls. This was but the 
 ante-chamber. AVe would soon enter ujjon more horrible 
 
SKETCHES. 91 
 
 scenes. Our regiment, with the second, passed under the tire 
 of the enemy's cannon into the mountain side. We climbed 
 back and forth over ridi::es and tlirough tlic thick tangled 
 brush, till we were worn out. We were once very close to 
 the enemy's camion on tlio mountain side, and thought our 
 duty was to charge it. But no, we must march back, while 
 General Taylor's Louisiana brigade advanced to this work. 
 Tliey did it nobly ; took the enemy's battery, thougli they 
 were forced to give it up; but it was retaken, however, after- 
 wards. We marched to the rear, and were left there till we 
 heard the shouts of our boys in pursuit of the enemy. The 
 issue of the day long hung in doubt. Our m(?n were several 
 times repulsed, and the cheers of the enemy, with the evil 
 reports of some of our own men, made us fear the worst. But 
 we put our trust in God, and felt confident of success. Soon 
 our hopes were realized. The enemy was in full retreat, 
 which became in a few minutes a perfect rout. Eight or nine 
 pieces of artillery, almost' if not all they had, were taken. 
 Their ambulances, with their loads of wounded, were left to 
 fall into our hands, and hundreds of men and arms were cap- 
 tured. The work was well and completely done. We ])ur- 
 sued them seven or eight miles. But tlie enemy were on our 
 side, and if we followed farther they would sliell us as we 
 returned. We came back, tiicrefore, in the woods, on the 
 mountain side, to conceal us from the enemy, who were now 
 on the opposite bank of the river, then struck a road leading 
 to the turnpike across Brown's Gap, and at one o'clock tluit 
 night I dropped my weary limbs on the top of tlie Blue Ilidge, 
 at the cornor of old Albemarle. Wc had now escaped the 
 enemy's reach, and left both portions of their army defeated. 
 Wc are now in a position where we can rest in safety, or 
 move in any direction we choose. Tlie enemy have not 
 crossed the river at Port Republic. General Jackson liad the 
 bridge burned to prevent thoin from getting behind and pur- 
 suincT him. 
 
:<*J SKiriCllEH. 
 
 "I consider these two victories by far the most wonderful 
 he lias gained. The enemy formed a concerted plan to catch 
 and destroy our wliole army. General Shields had sent two 
 hrigades of his division up the south bank of the Shenandoah. 
 He, I think, joined Fremont in the Valley, and was in tho 
 fight on Sunday. C4eneral Tyler commanded them on Mon- 
 day. Tlieir whole plan was foiled, all of our baggage was 
 saved, both portions of their army driven back, and much of 
 their artillery, Avith many ])risoners, was taken. In the man- 
 agement of this aftair (reneral Jackson has shown great skill; 
 while at the same time Providence has aided him in a most 
 wondei-ful manner. Had the enemy returned from Harrison- 
 burg three hours sooner, they would almost certainly have 
 compelled us to retreat with great loss, and turned our victory 
 into a defeat. But God guides our General, and enables him 
 to venture much, to run great risks, and yet to gain the most 
 brilliant successes. Let praise be given to His great name for 
 His recent favors to ns. 
 
 "You have heard, of course, of Colonel Ashby's death. He 
 was killed in a heavy skirmish near Harrisonburg, on Friday 
 evening. A most noble sacrifice to onr holy cause. It is felt 
 by US all as a personal alfiiction. Tho sun shines brightly to- 
 day, and all is cheerful in cam])."' 
 
 After this battle, they rest near Wier's Cave for a few days, 
 and he writes to his mother thus: 
 
 " We are to-day near AVicr's Cave, and encamped in a beau- 
 tiful grove, greatly enjoying rest in the shade. • Yesterday 
 afternoon a party of us visited the cave. It was a delightful 
 recreation, especially to those accustomed to the hard service 
 of the soldier. It made us feel as though it would be possible 
 once more to lead a quiet and civil life, and take part in the 
 ]»astimes which make such a life happy. AVc then took a roll 
 in the Shenandoah, and returned fo camp clean and in good 
 spirits. A good night's sleep has almost prepared us for 
 
SKETCHES. 93 
 
 another of General Jackson's tremendous flank movements. 
 Onr present encampment is too pleasant for ns to expect to 
 remain in it long, and we confidently expect the order to 
 marcli very soon ; but in what direction, or to wliat point, no 
 one can tell. All are willing, however, to go wherever Gen- 
 eral Jackson bids; liaving implicit confidence not only in his 
 integrity and fearless courage, but also in his skillful general- 
 ship. His recent success has greatly increased our admiration 
 for him. The campaign was splendidly conducted. lie not 
 only extricated his whole army from a trap skillfully set for 
 him, but defeated one portion of their army, holding the other 
 in check at the same time, and on the next day utterly routed 
 the second portion, caj)turing nearly all their artillery, five or 
 six hundred prisoners, bringing all off safely before the first 
 could sutficiently recover from the shock to attack us. Yes, 
 the whole North-Western army conspired to catch and destrov 
 our General and his troops, but it signally failed. It is true, at 
 one time they had surrounded us. In their own favorite lan- 
 guage, they 'had us in the bag;' but then they had no man 
 braVe or skillful enough to tie the bag and hold us in. Mv 
 warmest love to all at home. How I long to see you." 
 
 lie wrote to his father, urging him to visit the army: 
 
 "I think you will enjoy the visit, and you know it will be a 
 rich treat to me. I greatly desire to see you again. Xuthing, 
 certainly, but a clear and strong conviction of duty, with an 
 approving conscience, could keep me contented in this ]iainful 
 separation from the dearest earthly objects. But when death 
 comes near, as it does so often here, it brings the Christian so 
 near to God and heaven — the centre around which he liopes 
 to meet those he loves bebt — that he almost forgets his tempo- 
 rary absence from earthly home and friends. The parental 
 threshold, and especially the family altar, are certainly very 
 dear, but 0114 true home is in heaven. 
 
 " Our cunijiany still acts as body-guard iv the General. 
 Our situation is very pleasant. We are relieved from many 
 
94 SKKTCHES. 
 
 things tliat used to annoy "s ; and a fine band often rea^alcs us 
 witli its music. We have also some leisure time for reading 
 such books and tracts as we can get, and for enjoying tlie 
 society of each other and of friends from a distance, who fre- 
 quently call on us. I sometimes fear I shall not only become 
 contented, but even pleased with this mode of life. I used to 
 wonder how one could choose the life of a soldier. I thought 
 its dangers and hardships would make it irksome in the ex- 
 treme. But we quickly become accustomed to these things, 
 while the excitement of an active campaign imparts pleasure, 
 which is much enhanced by a firm conviction of the justice of 
 the cause for which we struggle. I feel now that if taken 
 back to my former quiet life, it would be, at least for a time, 
 somewhat irksome. And, indeed, did not the ministry, witli 
 its most blessed work, hold the supreme place in my heart, I 
 could be a soldier for life. JBut as my former desire to ]u-each 
 has not been weakened, but rather increased l>y my experience 
 in the army, I am exceedingly anxious to close this life and en- 
 ter upon that. When 1 shall be gratified, I cannot tell. God, 
 who has manifested himself in the storm wliicli has broTcen 
 over onr country, and now rages around us, must bring us 
 peace again. If lie does not, men on both sides will become 
 worse and worse, and war cannot end. The humble prayers 
 of God's people can do much more to end it than all the bul- 
 lets and bayonets of our soldiers. And while it lasts, the 
 former alone can make the latter successful. 
 
 "If you coine to see us, bring us some tracts and testa- 
 ments. I can readily find persons who are more than willing 
 to receive tlioin. Any one would be surju-Ised to find how 
 welcome he will be on a visit of Christian love to the tents of 
 the soldiers. They M'ill listen to his words, and thank him for 
 any manifestation of love for tlieir souls. I wish I could do 
 more of what conscience bids me do, and what I know there 
 is so much joy in doing. AVliy should so little 1# <lone in the 
 army for the eternal interests of the men? CIiai)lains are 
 
 • 
 
SKETCHES. 95 
 
 scarce, and the few avIio are here are so restricted in their 
 salaries that they cajinot delVa)' expenses. 
 
 "I hope and pray that your visit h^-e may not only gratify 
 the longings of a son's heart, and the wishes of many true 
 friends, but also do much to excite Christians to greater activ- 
 ity and awaken the impenitent to a sense of their sin and 
 misery. If Christians w'ere only as prayerful and active as 
 they should be, how much good might we not expect to result. 
 Nearly one-half of our company are professing Christians; and 
 in our regiment I know there is a very strong religious ele- 
 ment, which, if active, might restrain nnich sin and promote 
 very much the cause of Christ. 
 
 "Several letters have just been received from various mem- 
 bers of our family. They are a rich treat. These are visits 
 from those I love, which revive my spirit when drooping, and 
 heighten my joy if they find me happy. Your contemplated 
 visit to brother George M'ill be very delightful. I am sure it 
 has been a source of joy to our Synod to welcome back some 
 of the loyal sons of Virginia who have fled from the land of 
 tyranny and oppression. 
 
 '•When you have an opportunity, remember me, with great 
 affection to the Professors in our Seminary; and to any other 
 friends with whom you may meet. 
 
 "Your aflectionate son, 
 
 hth;h." 
 
 TO HIS eiHTKR, MRS. M'cRUit. 
 
 " Our life, at present, is so much better than it has been for 
 several months that we are having a delightful time. It is 
 true, the sky is our roof, and the earth our bed, but then it 
 don't rain, and we are iK»t marching; and when a box comes 
 in from home, we live and feel like i)rinces. I am sorry that 
 father could not visit us, but hope he will still do so. He will 
 feel quite at home at General Jackson's headquarters, with 
 the General and Dr. Dabney. The latter is very bnsv, but 
 
i*G 8KETCHK8. 
 
 preaches whenever lie lias an opportunity. I hoard hitn last 
 Saturday, then twice on the Sabhatli, when about two hun- 
 dred soldiers received t^ sacrament of the Lord's Supper at 
 his hands. This was a spiritual feast indeed. The religious 
 element in our company is very strong; sufficient, I hope, to 
 control all other elements, and give tone to the whole body. 
 We hold a brief meeting every night, just after roll call. The 
 man whose turn it is stands up, while the rest stand around 
 him. He reads a chapter, sometimes sings a hymn, then leads 
 in prayer. There is some ])rofanity, but this is lessening. 
 Why should not the army be a school for the reformation of 
 the wicked? Such it has j)roved to J. W, and J, R. They 
 are now perfectly sober men and good soldiers. I am much 
 gratified at the accounts I receive of* your prayer-meetings 
 held in our behalf. The prayers of those at home greatly 
 Btren«i:then and encoura<i:e us in the armv. I will endeavor to 
 remember you all at your hours of j)rayer. Yet we are so 
 drawn about fi'om one place and emj)lovment to anotiier that 
 I liave scarcely a moment for connected, sol)er thought. As 
 for instance, to-day I have been soldier, cook, and washer- 
 wmnati. Around me, as I write, some are cleaning their guns, 
 others are putting away the remnant of our diimer, some are 
 washing plates, and some are trying to sleep. I am sittmg on 
 my knapsack, with a tin pan as my writing desk. I write a 
 sentence and have to stop to do something or to talk to some 
 one. Yet amid all this commotion my thoughts keep their 
 direction homeward. Like the needle, they may be changed 
 a little by the objects near me, but they soon turn again to- 
 wards the home circle and hover around .the much loved ])lace. 
 
 " I saw as I passed through W. lately, dressed out in a 
 
 fine suit. A man in fine clothes now is an offence. But he is 
 excusable, as he is not fit to be in the army." 
 
 They were not permitted to remain long at their delightful 
 encampment near Wier's Cave. Tliey crossed the Blue Ridge 
 at Rockfish Ga]). On reaching Charlottesville he became very 
 
SKETCHES. 97 
 
 unwell, so much so that at the earnest persuasion of friends 
 and with the consent of the surgeon, he determined to leave 
 his company under the command of Lieut. G. B. Strickler, and 
 made a very unexpected visit to Lexington. His health was 
 not seriously impaired, but his flesh was wasted and his 
 strength exhausted by the toils and privations of the ])reced- 
 ing three months. . A\^ithin a less period than that he had 
 marched four hundred miles, and been engaged in five battles, 
 besides several combats. When lie left his company at Char- 
 lottesvillp he was wholly ignorant of its destination ; but soon 
 after reaching home, he became convinced that the army was 
 on its way to Richmond. He was, wjth great difHculty, in- 
 duced to remain until the tidings came that the fighting around 
 Richmond had actually commenced. Then neither friends nor 
 physicians could prevail with him to remain another day. 
 When he heard of the part his company acted in the famous 
 charge at Gaines' Mill, under the command of Li'eut. Strickler, 
 he became greatly excited, and said: "All the money in the 
 world could not .compensate me for the pain I feel at not 
 being with them. But if they only conquer, this will moderate 
 my sorrow;" then hurrying away, he reached the field just in 
 time to discover that they had conquered. The" first of that 
 series of memorable battles, tluit at Mechanicsville, was fougfct 
 on the birth-place of his father, and that at Ellyson's Mill in 
 full view of the cemetery where the remains of his ancestry 
 had been buried for more than one hundred and sixty years. 
 "I fouglit," said a descendant of the same ancestry, and of the 
 same name, " in sight of my fatlicr's grave." AVell might he 
 have added, they have not only invaded my native State, and 
 sought to rob us of our homes, but their missiles of death have 
 broken down the inclosure, and plowed up the earth around 
 and over the graves of my fathers. Some of those ancestors 
 were among the l)rightcst ornan'ients of the old Hanover 
 Presbyterian Church, under the pastoral chai-ge of Samuel 
 Davies. 
 
 15} ■ 
 
1*8 !<KETCHEt<; 
 
 In that desperate fijjjhtinp:. the younsjfest brotlier of Captain 
 White — so often Avritten to or mentioned in these letters — a 
 vonth then not seventeen years of age, took an active part. 
 No language can express the emotions kindled in the heart of 
 the father by the thought of such fighting, around such a place, 
 by such a boy. And the tear starts now at the rcmombrance 
 of that venerable mansion, in which the f<^undor8 of tlio Pres- 
 byterian Church in Eastern Virginia were wont often to meet 
 for consultation and ])rayer, now all j-i<ldlcd with cannon balls, 
 thrown in part, no doubt, by Presbyterian hands. '*F:itlu'r, 
 forgive them, they know not what t^iey do." 
 
 During his visit to his friends, he wrote to his aunt, ^Irs. 
 Hutchinson, of Mom'oe : " You will be surprised to receive a 
 letter from me written at home. I rejoiced to find myself in 
 the warm embrace of my mother, on Sunday m'ght. Two 
 days before, I, was with the army on its march through Albe- 
 marle, with no idea of leaving, though I was much reduced in 
 strength by sickness and the hard service of several months 
 past. Brother James, wiio was with us for s6veral days, urged 
 me to stop, and readily securing the surgeon's permission, I 
 ' yielded and. came home. The joy of getting here, and the 
 rest of a few days, have refreshed me very" much, and I hope 
 soon to return to ni}' ])lace in the army. . It is really ]>ainful to 
 be absent, to be lying at ease here, in the lap of Fuxut}', while 
 others, my comrades, are bearing the burden of the service, or 
 perhaps struggling with our enemies. I would not remain at 
 home now, for any consideration. Our army seems to be mak- 
 ing its way to Kichmond. The great struggle there must 
 come off soon. McClelUm cannot abandon the elfort without 
 a battle. Tlie ])eople of Richmond are calm and full of confi- 
 dence, resulting, I believe, from their trust in God. How I 
 long to sec our army burst the chains which bind our State, 
 and set her free once more. 
 
 " Gen. Jackson's efforts in the valley, his terrible blows upon 
 the enemy, falling so fast and with such slaughter, have stun- 
 ned and driven them back, while the people have regained . 
 
SKETCHES. i>0 
 
 their confidence and cast ^leir fears awa3\ "We hear that 
 Fremont and Shields have left the valley for Eastern Virginia. 
 If this be true, the upper valley will be free from their hateful 
 presence. But unless we can whip them badly at Richmond, 
 this part of the State will still be exposed to th6ir ravages." 
 
 Duiing the same visit, he Avrote to liis brother Henry : 
 
 " All the delights of home cannot make one rest satisfied 
 when a battle is imminent wln'ch may decide the fate of his 
 country, and in wliich his comrades will take ])art. I wish the 
 battle at Richmond could take place at once, but would be 
 'very sorry to be absent. Not that I have become indifferent 
 to cannon balls or fond, of danger. Safety is more to my taste, 
 but you understand my feelings. I only hope and pray that 
 Gen. Jackson may be as richly blessed at Richmond as he has 
 been elsewlierc. I do believe that God has him in His special 
 favor, and guides him in air his course. Otherwise he could 
 not run such risks in safety, and gain the most brilliant suc- 
 cesses, when circumstances make defeat and ruin seem so 
 inevitable. May the same divine hand continue to preserve 
 and blese him." He adds: "I long for the time when I can 
 enjoy the pleasures of home in peace. But for the present, 
 my duty and liappiness are in the army. God bless you in 
 your glorious work, as a minister of the Gospel." , 
 
 On another occasion he writes to tlic same brother* 
 
 " Rest satisfied tlicrefore that dut}- ])ids , you stay at liome ; 
 mine is to remain in the army-, and I am willing to do it for 
 the glorious cause in M'liich our young Confederacy is engaged. 
 If we give up, everytliing is lost. If we struggle on, endure 
 hardships, exert our utmost stre/igth, and put our trust in God, 
 who has so far been very gracious to us, we may liope after a 
 while to taste tlic most blessed fruits from these present dis- 
 tresses. 
 
100 SKETCHES. 
 
 "My chief source of sorrow is, that I can do so little, or 
 rather that I do so little for the cause of my Saviour. Father 
 seems to think the army a glorious field for usefulness. To 
 him, douhtlefes it would be. But what have I done? I hope 
 my influence for good has been felt in our own company — but 
 'to how little extent! I can only look to God to give me the 
 licart to work, and then open up paths of usefulness for me. 
 If I really wish to do good in the world, it must become a sub- 
 ject of constant study, followed by ceaseless etibrt. I am very 
 glad to hear that you are so comfortably situated. You have 
 nothing now to hinder you from doing much good. May God 
 grant j'ou this great ])rivilege. It is a pleasing subject o^ 
 thought to me, especially on the Sabbath, that father, two 
 brotlieis and a cousin are all preaching the gospel. I do not 
 forget to pray for you. May I soon be permitted to join the 
 number, and give my energies to the same good work." 
 
 Having reached his post just after the defeat of McClellan, 
 he wrote to his father from below Ilichmond : 
 
 "Bkf/)W Richmond, July 3, 18()2. 
 
 "My Deak Father: I sent word to Dr. Brown this morning, 
 who had promised to forward the news to you all,4hat all of 
 my company were safe. This is due oidy to the merciful pro- 
 tection of God. They have been in two of the most important 
 and blot)dy battles fought during the past week — on Friday 
 and Tuesday. The fighting was desperate, and their esca])e is 
 very wonderful. T. was in the battle on Friday, but has fallen 
 back sick. 
 
 "Yesterday and to-da}'^ a calm has rested on the bloody 
 field, broken only by an occasional discharge of cannon, heard 
 afar oft" in the direction of James River. The enemy is on 
 the banks of the river, if he has crossed, as is the report. 
 Their army must be greatly weakened and demoralized. Many 
 of the prisoners rej)re6ent their soldiers as broken-spirited, 
 rebellious, and ready to desert. Yet McClellan still has a large 
 
SKETCHES. lOi 
 
 force, and if reinforced b}'- Shields and Fremont, may attempt 
 to move np the south side of the river. But he can riever 
 have so fair a prospect of taking Richmond as he had before. 
 He possessed every advantage in the late battles. He had 
 Nvorked hard for twelve montlis, had raised an immense army 
 and equipped his troops in the best manner possible. He caine 
 within sight of the great prize, and fortified himself strongly 
 in the faces of our men. We made the attack on liis own ])o- 
 sitions, drove him from every one, capturing thousands of his 
 men, nearly one hundred pieces of artillery, and killing two of 
 his men to the loss of one on our sidt?. Ought not this to be 
 regarded as decisive ? Can they ask any fairer, fuller test ? 
 The truth is, their soldiers are not actuated by the spirit which 
 animates ours. They can make a grand show, blow their 
 trumpets, and bluster about tlieir flag, but are quick to choose 
 between defeat and death. Considering what they have at 
 stake, the former is far the better of the two. But it is not so 
 witli us. Our earthly all is at stake. 
 
 " Best love to all at home. I feel far better contented now 
 • that, I am at my post again, although my heart longs to be at 
 home in peace. Your aftectionate son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 And when tlie army moved nearer to Richmond lie wrote 
 as follows : 
 
 "Glenwood, July 14, 1862. 
 
 " My Dear Fatuer : T. and I have been as much at home for 
 several days past as we could be anywhere, except in Lexington. 
 Our brigade is encamped on uncle Hugh's farm, within a few 
 hundred yards of his house, and I have been permitted to 
 spend my nij2;hts and take my meals here. I found T. liere, 
 and he remained until yesterday, when he obtained leave to 
 make a shorX visit to our relatives at Hilly Farm in Hanover. 
 His health has improved, and th(»ugh not firm enough to en- 
 dure a severe campaign, he is comparatively well. I think he 
 
102 RKETCHES. 
 
 lia«l ])ottcr remain with ns and make a tliinl trial of his 
 streii^'th. If he breaks down ai!:aiu, he can then apply for a 
 transfer to the cavalry service. This I am \ery reluctant for 
 him to do, unless it becomes necessary. My own health is 
 perfectly good, and I am fattening and strengthening daily. 
 
 " I had much pleasure in seeing my relatives iu and around 
 Richmond. Uucle Hugh and aunt Ann have been very kind, 
 doing, indeed, just what makes me feel most happy — making 
 me feel perfectly at home. 
 
 "Yesterday I went to Richmond in uncle Hugh's carriage, 
 and had the pleasure of hearing Dr. Hoge preach. I enjoyed 
 the service greatly. Gen. Jackson was present, and imino- 
 diately after the benediction, all eyes were turned upon him, 
 and the crowd gathered uncomfortably close about him. The 
 General seemed uneasy, realh'^ appeared confused, pushed for 
 the door, and vanished almost in an instant. I could but. smile 
 to see him fairly conquered and made to run. 
 
 " I se'e in this country no such ghastly ligurc as famine, 
 which many seem to think walks abroad, making all the people 
 as ghost-like as itself. Nor is disease as prevalent as was ex- 
 pected. Though we are near the Chickahominy Swamp, we 
 are on its south side, and the atmosphere is as pure, while as 
 delightful a breeze is now stirring, as I ever felt in the moun- 
 tains. Your devoted son, 
 
 HUGH." 
 
 TO niS Al'NT, MRS. H. 
 
 / 
 
 " AVith mountain l)arriers all around you, I suppose y<>u feel 
 quite safe from Northern bayonets. 
 
 "The token of remembrance, inclosed in your letter, took 
 me quite by surprise. I, of course, thank you most heartily for 
 it, and accept it as a new evidence that you still remember me 
 with affection. In this view I prize it highly. But do not 
 inuigine that the war has impoverished me. Thi^it cannot do. 
 I hud nothing before the war, and hence I am entirely safe in 
 this respect. I have neither houses nor lands nor money to 
 
SKETCHES. 103 
 
 trouble me; and if it were not that my friends are ten'ified for 
 their own safety and that of tlieir goods, I should be as inde- 
 pendent and free from apprehension, as the wild Indian who 
 calls all the hills his own. 
 
 " But though I have been thus far fi^Il of hope, and perhaps 
 m^re cheerful than was proper, in a time so full of suffering, 
 yet I confess that the late success of the enemy in the west 
 has saddened, though it has not disheartened me. But I will 
 not censure, lest I betray my ignorance. It is much better to 
 provide for the future than to grieve over the past. And if 
 reverses destroy that self-confidence in which we had wra])ped 
 ourselves, and lead us to gird on afresh the weapons of war, 
 they may prove a blessing in the end. I am exceedingly 
 anxious to remain in the army until the struggle is over. If 
 conscience would permit, most gladly would I enlist for the 
 war. 'But if the pulpifs are vacant, the countr/ is lost. I 
 must therefore, if possi\|le, return to the Seminary in the fall. 
 1 will remain, however, ^n the army until that time, and if the 
 skies are any bright'or, and 1 am alive, I will resume my course 
 of preparation for the ministry. In this work I desire to live 
 and die. 
 
 " I see something in the camp to admire, and something to 
 censure, but, in the main, my belief in the doctrine of total 
 depravity is confirmed and strengthened. I am glad, however, 
 to say, that in our company I can see no increase of any form 
 of sin. Only pne or two ever swear, and I have never seen 
 one intoxicated. The Bible ^is the constant companion of 
 nearly all, and several, I think, would make a profession of 
 religion if the opportunity were offered." 
 
 On another occasion he writes « " We are cheeiiul. But 
 this does not arise from forgetting our homes, nor from indif- 
 ference to what is to come, but from a calm purpose to meet 
 and bear the worst. There are rumors of peace. Should the 
 North return to reason, their mad career be checked, and 
 peace smile upon our Southern Confederacy, it will be another 
 
104 SKETCHES. 
 
 of the wonders which God is working in the world at this 
 time. Xations crnnible in an instant," and from their ruins 
 others arise as quickly. May a merciful God work tills mira- 
 cle of deliverance for us. God only can do this, and send as 
 back to the peaceful pursuits of civil life. It would i^ive me 
 great joy to carry out tne cherished plans of my life which are 
 now suspended. I wish to preach the Gospel. Any other 
 occupation would be pursued only as an affliction. Yet other 
 pursuits are inevitable now." 
 
 He was ever considerate, in a remarkable degree, of his 
 mother's comfort. One of his chief sources of anxiety at the 
 approach of a battle, was that she might be prepared for her 
 sad share in its results. He would write to her beforehand, 
 to prepare her for it. On the eve of one of the most desper- 
 ate of the oight battles, in which he i)ove an active part, he 
 wrote her a letter full of the tenderest filial love, and express- 
 ive of the strongest faith. He concludes this letter in these 
 words: "Motiier, don't be anxious about jTie. I have a sweet 
 assurance that my soul is safe, and as to my body, that is only 
 dust." 
 
 And then when the battle was over, his tirst effort was to 
 find time to communicate the intelligence of his safety to all 
 at iiome ; and a form of expression he used on such occasions 
 was this, " May the anxious heart of my devoted mother now 
 be comforted." Truly, his was the heart, and the tongue, and 
 the life, of a devoted son, j 
 
 TO A FRIKND ANH CLASSMATE, 
 
 "Your letter was received yesterday, and read with pleasure 
 and ])rofit. The account yen give of your religious experience 
 agrees so well with my own that I could but feel the warmest 
 sympathy for you in your struggles with unbelief and fear. 
 Yes, when sin separates us from God, heaviness and gloom 
 must oppress us. We would give the whole world, were it 
 ours, for one smile from our Heavenly Father's face. But 
 
SKETCHES. 10.5 
 
 while we thus suffer, Jcsns stands with open arras to receive 
 us, if we will but trust ourselves in his hands. It is unspeaka- 
 bly precious to exercise trust in God — in his grace, his power 
 and his promises^ The little child, when frightened, flees to 
 its mother's arms, and in a motnent, its fears are gone, and it 
 sleeps securely on that mother's bosom. Thus we, timid chil- 
 dren, of little faith, should flee to Christ. Why may we not 
 do this at all times ? Unwillingness to do it is alike displeas- 
 ing to God, and disquieting to us. Christ lias endured the 
 wratli of God due to us for sin. How bitter was the cup h§ 
 drank for us. Yet lie drauk it all. He endured tlic curse for 
 us, so that we have no part of it to endure. Then let us 
 neither doubt nor fear. We cannot make ourselves holy. Sin 
 is all that we can call our own. Holiness is the gift, the free 
 gift of God, through Jesus Christ. Let us accept that gift, 
 and all the powers of earth and hell cannot prevail against us. 
 Agreement in these great matters unites us tenderly together. 
 Therefore write about them, and we will endeavor to prove 
 helpful to each other in this warfare." 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 "The recoUectiou of the scenes passed at college is pleasant, 
 and yet there are mingled with it some things which cause no 
 little sorrow. It is the thought that days, and weeks, and years 
 arc flying away and hurrying us on to the judgment, while I 
 am doing so little to prepare for that great da}'. You seem to 
 ufter the languaire of my heart when you mourn for the dead- 
 ness of your own. ' I hear, but seem to liear in vain." I try to 
 pray, but my lips refuse to utter the language, because I lack 
 the sj)irit of prayer. II<»\v often do I rise from my knees 
 mourning over the solemn mockery which I liave been render- 
 ing to God under the pretence of worship. I cannot conceive 
 of a worse condition than that in which my soul sonietimes is. 
 But yet it is all my own fault when our heavenly Father hides 
 his face. We know that our Saviour sympathizes tenderly in 
 14 
 
Ior» SKKTCHra. 
 
 the suflferiiifi^ of liis people. We know that lie felt keenly 
 when he found the disciples whom he had taken with him to 
 watch 'hea"S'7 with sleep.' So he feels for us when we are 
 pierced with an«;uish on account of 'the si% that remaineth.' 
 And, blessed be God, there are times when the love and sym- 
 pathy of Christ are sweet to our taste — when standing beneath 
 the cross, and looking np to the Lamb of God, we can t^ay ^ottr 
 Sa/oiour.'' Such moments are rare; but yet one half hour thus 
 spent in the morning, sheds a fragrance over the whole day. 
 How I long to reach that state in my progress when this sweet 
 sense of my Saviour's love shall abide with me forever. But 
 we have need of ]>atience, for such attainments are not ^nade 
 in a day. And yet by ' ])atient continuance in well doing ' — 
 by committing our souls into his hands and waiting upon him, 
 we may make great and ra])id progress in the divine life. Tlie 
 anniversary of my public profession of faith in Christ is fast 
 approaching, and- 1 feel somehow a reluctance for it to come. 
 There arc so many sins which I ought to have overcome, and 
 so many opportunities for doing good which I did not improve, 
 that I am filled with fear and shame. But hope cheers my 
 drooping heart when I look up to that arm which 1 know is 
 able to destroy sin where it remains, and to perfect good 
 where it is begun. 
 
 ''In Christ 'all the fullness of the Godhead dwells.' Let us 
 come to this fountain and receive this blood of purification 
 , into our souls. Tliis is the only true preparation for God's 
 service, either in the ministry or out of it. I shall do wh'at 
 good 1 can in my present liiie of life, yet the infinitel}' higher 
 interests of the church open wider and more blessed fields of 
 labor." 
 
 In illustration of the ])urpo8e just expressed of seeking to 
 do good in every line of life, it may be stated, that from a 
 very early age he sought to be useful to the colored people — 
 beginning with his father's servants. This people were greatly 
 attached to him. He was at home but twice after entering the ■ 
 
SKETCHES. 107 
 
 army, and that for a very short time. And yet the usual por- 
 tion of eacli Sabbath at home was spent in tlic colored Sabbath 
 School. Many of tliese people manifested tlie deepest sorrow 
 when they learned that they should see his face no more. One 
 good old man, a member of the same church with hiinself, said 
 to his father with many tears, '' I am very sorry he is gone. 
 But you may be sure tliat he is in heaven." His manner of- 
 approaching this class of people, or of encouraging them to 
 approach liim, was so open, frank, and cordial, that they were 
 always pleased to meet him. He often said, " It pains me to 
 know — as I am obliged to do — that if this war lasts long, the 
 colored people will be tiie chief sufferers." 
 
 The mother of a young masc-j belonging to the army called 
 at the Lexington parsonage to inform her pastor that her son 
 seemed much interested about his soul, and, indeed, she hoped 
 he was a Christian, and would embrace the first opportunity to 
 connect himself with the church; and tlien, weeping as she 
 spoke, added: "Tour son Hugli has been very kind and faith- 
 ful to liim. As he did not belong to his company, and as he 
 could not easily see him, he wrote to liim; and soon aft(^r he 
 went over to his camp, asked him to walk with him. Tliey 
 went together into a grove, a considerable distance from the 
 camp; and, after conversing fullj'^ with him, he proposed that 
 they should unite in prayer; then, kneeling at the root of a 
 tree, he prayed for the soul of my son, and now I hope he is a 
 Christian." 
 
 They were members of the same congregation at, liome, but 
 in the army one was a ])rivate in the ranks of one company, 
 and the other was the captain of another. Yet, unmindful of 
 the difference in their military rank, intent only on the good 
 of the young man's soul, he sought liim out, tiicn sought a 
 retired place in a distant grove, and there, with the heavens 
 above and the damp earth beneath their bended knees, he 
 called on God to save his friend. 
 
 At the close of a prayer-meeting in the lecture room of the 
 Presbyterian Church, the congregation were reminded of the 
 
lOS SKETCHES. 
 
 near approach of their stated season of coiniuunion, and any 
 wlio inif^ht desire to connect themselves with tlie church on 
 that occasion were requo&ted to make their wishes known to 
 the ]xistor. As the audience dispersed a jrentlenian was ob- 
 served lingering at his seat. It was a soldier who was at 
 home on sick furlough. As the pastor approached, he took his 
 hand and said: "I had hoped to connect myself with the 
 church at the next communion, but I shall be compelled to 
 return to the army before the time arrives. Your son, Captain 
 White, had two conversations with me at different times, wlien 
 we were marching together, in reference to my soul, and my 
 purpose has been fully formed for ^ome time to join your 
 church. I am very sorry I a'.lfi obliged to leave." 
 
 These are instances selected from among many which illus- 
 trate his fidelity in seeking the salvation of tJie souls of those 
 with whom he came in contact. During his last brief visit at 
 home, there were a number of sick and wounded soldiers in 
 Lexington. With some of these he had no personal acquaint- 
 ance; but it is believed that he visited, conversed, and prayed 
 witli^most or all of them. It is m'oU remembered that lie more 
 than once left tlie most attractive company to perform a ser- 
 vice of this sort. lie was remarkably iVee from what Dr. 
 Johnson calls "a whining ])rc'tenBion to goodness." lie seldom 
 or never spoke in the presence of others of his religious emo- 
 tions. ' If he did so, it M'as ordinarily to those like-minded with 
 himself, and at times and in places deemed appro])riate to a 
 theme so delicate and so sacred. In such society and in such 
 places he was judicious, but communicative. ]\rany of his 
 letters evince liow freely he could pour out his heart to a 
 friend whom he knew and loved. 
 
 Discriminating between mere talk about himself and words 
 fitly spoken in defence of the truth and Author of the gospel, 
 he was ever ready to avow his love for that truth and liis vene- 
 ration for its Author, afe well as his fixed aversion to everything 
 mean and wicked. His gentlenesB and modesty never degene- 
 rated into pusillanimity, nor his }>iety into fanaticism. He 
 
SKETOHEB. 109 
 
 well knew liow to be habitually clieerful without being frivo- 
 lous, and how to commend true religion to the cultivated, 
 na<mral taste of irreligious men, so as to secure their resj)ect, if 
 he could not their allegiance, to the Saviour he so much loved. 
 The consequence of this was, that if, during his life in college, 
 he entered a room filled with the gayest students, provided 
 only they were gentlemen, he was received with gladness; 
 and although his presence effectually restrained every form of 
 vicious excess, it never diminished tlie harmless vivacity of 
 the party. God graciously taught liim at an early age that 
 important, yet rare and difficult lesson, how to be at pnCe the 
 cheerful companion and the consistent and useful Christian. 
 If that was said in his presfence which he regarded as untrue 
 or wicked, he ordinarily dropped the conversation abruptW, 
 and expressed his dissent by silent sadness, ratlier than by a 
 bold and ill-tempered resistance. An intelligent gentleman 
 traveling with him in a stage coach, became the silent but in- 
 terested listener to a conversation between him and a man 
 much older tlian himself, in reference to the main point then 
 at issue between the North and the South. The man, though 
 a Virginian by l)irth, had sold and jpockeUd his servants, then 
 gone to Illinois and turned abolitionist. All this leaked out in 
 the course of the conversation. "And when this discovery was 
 made," said our informant, "with a countenance expressive of 
 the deepest sorrow, blended with the profoundest contemjit, he 
 at once became silent, and refused to hold any further inter- 
 course with his^misguided and uiijtrincipled fellow traveler." 
 His course would have been son^what different, but for the 
 disparity in their ages. 
 
 This sketch of his character will explain in i)art his singular 
 usefulness among persons of all descrijitions. 
 
 We left the subject of these sketchew enjoying the hospitali- 
 ties of his friends in and 'Ground Richmond, after the signal 
 defeat of the invader. But such enjoyment was of short du- 
 ration. The enemy, under the command of a man by whom 
 the defeated McClellan had been superseded, now sought to 
 
110 SKETCHES. 
 
 reach Riclimond by a raore circuitbus route. Their new com- 
 mander, "with great swelling words of vanity," protesting that 
 so far in this war he had "only seen the backs of his eneniios," 
 and "only sought repose in tiie saddle," reinforced by the 
 shattered remnant of his ]>redece8sor'8 defeated forces, was 
 moving in the direction of the Central Railroad, aiming to 
 reach that road at a point some sixty or seventy miles Avest of 
 Richmond. The Stonewall Brigade was ordered to move 
 towards the same point. Tliey accordingly left their ]>leasant 
 encampment, and passing through Louisa, made a stand in Cul- 
 peper. Daring the brief period of comparative quiet now 
 enjoyed, lie wrote as follows: 
 
 TO HIS SISTKR, MRS. DR. WADK. 
 
 "Madison County, July 23, 1862. 
 
 "My Dear Sister: Mr. Hilton, of our regiment, starts for 
 Christiansbnrg to-morrow, and riglit glad I am to drop you a 
 line of congratulation upon the new light which has recently 
 appeared in the west and in your house. Another star has 
 risen to give light to the world — another child to gladden the 
 heart of its mother — another niece to amuse and delight its 
 uncles. And this is your daughter and my niece. It is a real 
 pleasure to turn away one's thoughts from the war, with its 
 scenes of deadly strife, of bloodshed and destruction, to the 
 quiet pursuits and joys of the lioine circle. I never felt hap- 
 "pier than when I sat down recently at home^ where no clash 
 of arms could l)o heard, and where all was ])eace. I hope it 
 will not be long until I can see and play with the little ones of 
 your house. 
 
 "But our faces are now turned towards Washington, and 
 although we are idle now, I hope that our generals are only 
 preparing for an advance. If invasion is feasible, we ought to 
 try it, that the burden of the war may be laid ui)on the liomes 
 of our enemies, to teach them how sore a thing it is when it 
 comes to our own doors. If we remain idle after our victories, 
 
SKETCHES. Ill 
 
 it only requires a short time for the Yankees to recover from 
 their defeat and panic. They are well nigh frightened to death 
 for a while, but if we leave them in possession of all their 
 cities and their homes, they feel secure, and soon create a new 
 excitement in favor of the war, and push forward the poor 
 Dutch and Irish to j&ll their broken ranks. If the men refuse 
 to volunteer, they can h% forced out, and we may*80on expect 
 to see another injimense army gathering around us. But they 
 have been thoroughly whipped at Richmond; tlieir effort is 
 seen to be foolish by their own people ; and without doubt wo 
 shall ultimately be free. 
 
 "When our army came back to Richmond from the lower 
 Chickahominy, we had a delightful time with friends and rela- 
 tives. Among others I saw Wm. S. White, Jr., whom I had 
 not seen since he left Lexington, some eight or nine years ago. 
 He fought bravely at Bethel in the beginning of the war, and 
 atEllyson's Mill he fought under very affecting circumstances, 
 working at his gun for hours in full view of the graves of his 
 sires. AVhat bould inspire a man with higher, holier courage 
 than the sight of such a place at such a time? 
 
 "I also saw another cousin, George A. Jones, who was so 
 badly wounded in one of the many battles around Richmond. 
 He seems to be comfortable now, and doing well. But I fear 
 he is yet to suffer more than he anticipates. It is thought by 
 some that the ball is yet in his foot, although the surgeon 
 thinks that it inflicted the wound without permanently enter- 
 ing. Aunt M , his mother, is quite well and cheerful, 
 
 greatly delighted to breathe the pure Southern air, untainted 
 by the presence and the breath of our cruel invaders. Their 
 family suffered from the depredations of the enemy only to 
 the amount of one thousand dollars, which was so much less 
 than many of their neighbors suffered, that they estimate tliat 
 as nothing. 
 
 "T paid them a short visit at Hilly Farm, and was 
 
 much pleased with* all he saw, and especially, I thmk, with all 
 he aie. lie feasted on peaches, j^ears, apricots, dec. 
 
112 SKETCHFIS. 
 
 "We saw Aunt E also. Her home near the eastern 
 
 extreniitv of Broad street, is very comfortable. She has been 
 greatly troubled and excited by the Yankees, but now lawjlis 
 all aver at the way they liave been driven off. 
 
 "Give my warmest love to Cousin II and all the chil- 
 dren — they are too many now to mention all by name. 
 T. would \\'tite, but he has so thoroughly exhausted himself 
 by writing four full pages of foolscap to father, that it is 
 imf)0ssible. 
 
 "Your devoted brother, HUGII." 
 
 Soon after the writing of the foregoing letter the battle of. 
 Cedar Run occurred. In this he bore an active part, but so 
 rapid were the movements of our army after this that he failed 
 to write a full description of that memorable engagement, from 
 which he and his youngest brother, so often referred to in Ins 
 letters, escaped unhurt. 
 
 All that he wrote respecting this battle may be found in the 
 following liasty sketch to his father, written near Gordonsville, 
 August 13, 1862 : 
 
 " My whole company passed safely through the recent battle 
 in Culpeper. The favor of God to us calls for the highest 
 praise. O, that we could all learn to lean upon and trust him 
 at all times. 
 
 " I was greatly pleased with the behavior of my boys in the 
 light. The loss in our Brigade was only twelve or fifteen 
 killed, and as many wounded. This is very surprising, as we 
 advanced through an open Held upon the enemy, who fought 
 under the cover of woods-^at least they were driven to this 
 position from the open lields, and were soon driven thence 
 also. The pursuit was very short, for night soon covered all 
 the field with dhrkness. Several pieces of artillery were 
 taken, together with four or five hundred prisoners, while the 
 enemy weni driven entirely from the field,' leaving their dead 
 and many of their wounded in our hands. We slept that 
 
SKETCHES. 113 
 
 night just where t^ie enemy's cannon had been placed, and 
 expected to awake at dajHi>;lit to follow n]> the pursnit. 
 
 "During the night a brilliant cannonade was kept up for 
 several liours. As Gen. Jackson could not push on after the 
 Yankees himself, he was determined to make the shells follow 
 them. We stood and observed the scene with great interest. 
 We could see the flash of our cannon, sometimes the bright 
 track of the shell, and then the bursting of it. The shells 
 were poured all through the woods into which the enemy had 
 run, and we hear from prisoners taken afterwards that they 
 did them much harm. They ijiade a feeble etfort to reply to 
 our guns, but with no effect. 
 
 "As one or two of their shells fell witliin our Brigade, we 
 concluded to move our beds a short distance and then slept 
 until morning. Why we did not pursue the enemy I cannot 
 understand, unless the report that Burnside was trying to cut 
 us oif at Orange Court House, was true. But this is certain, 
 we have met the boastful outlaw, Pojie, and whi]^ped him 
 thoroughh', and this, I trust, will discourage the Yankees still 
 more, and fill our hearts with more lively hope and confidence 
 in God. 
 
 "We lost our Brigadier Gen. Winder. He was struck in tlie 
 side with a shell and died in. a few hours. He was a most 
 gallant soldier, and by his admirable di8ci])line, was not only 
 keeping the Brigade eflScient, but was making it better, I 
 think, than it ever was before. His last words exhibited a 
 noble spirit. ' Tell my wife and children,' he said, * that I 
 died like a brave soldier.' 
 
 " Our loss in the 2d Brigade was very heavy. Tlie ' Dixie 
 Greys,' from Iloanoke, were almost destroyed. Our total loss 
 is over a hundred killed, and several hundred wounded. 
 
 "The scene on the battle field was more like the pictures of 
 battles than any I had ever witnessed. As we, on the left, 
 moved forward and gained the tojt of a ridge before us, wo 
 could see the line of battle extcjiding around to the extreiye 
 right, all along which the smoke rolled up in great clouds, and 
 16 
 
114 SKE'l'CUKB. 
 
 fire from tlie Uvo sides flashed fiercely at^eacli other. I did 
 not have time to look long at this scene, for a little smoke, and 
 some fire too, nearer at hand engaged my attention. !• 
 
 " T. and I were 6e])arated from our regiment towards the 
 close of the fight, but found it after the fight was over. The 
 Colonel had recalled it to form in line of battle. I did not 
 know of the order until we were so far ahead that I was unwil- 
 ling to go back. The Yankees were running, as they only 
 can run, and the rest of our army were in hot pursuit oi them. 
 AVe fell in Avith another regiment, therefore, and went ahead. 
 T., J. M., and "Willie Preston, fought nmch of the time right 
 at my side, and deserve great praise. T. was left at the camp 
 near Gordonsville, sick, when we started to Culpe})er, but 
 expecting that we would have a fight, came on to tak*? part in 
 it of his own accord. 
 
 " I hear that our boys, captured at the battle of Kernstown, 
 are now^ at home. This is delightful news. Give my love to 
 them all, especially to Morrison. AVrite soon to 
 
 " Your affectionate son, HUGH." 
 
 The second battle of Manassas, in which he fell, Avas now 
 near. The rise of the Rap])a]uinnock separated them from their 
 wagons and their rations. They consequently sufl'ered very 
 severely, for two days, from hunger. During this time he 
 wrote the last letter that ever issued from his pen. It is dated 
 " Banks of the Rappahannock, August 24, 1862," and is as 
 follows : 
 
 " My Deak Fatuer : Y"ou are all no doubt anxious to hear 
 'from T. and myself. We have not had another battle, though 
 there has been some sharp skirmishing, and the roar of artil- 
 lery has been almost incessant for several days past. We have 
 moved some distance uj) the bnnk of the Rappahannock each 
 day, halting occasionally to throw shells at the enemy and 
 receive some from them. We have had their shells to awake 
 Uf« in the morning, keep us unelasy during the day, and scarcely 
 
SKETCHES. 115 
 
 to allow us to sleep at nigbt. They have sometimes split the 
 trees under which we were lying, but we have thus far escaped 
 without injury. General Stuart has just cajAured three hun- 
 dred prisoners, destroyed a large number of Yankee wagons, 
 bringing off the horses, and found the trunks of General Pope 
 and thirty other officers at a railroad station. He took a fine 
 uniform coat, marked 'General John Pope.' Our Major saw 
 this coat. We thus annoy the Yankees a little, though it costs 
 us hard service and allows us little to cat. But our wagons 
 have just arrived, furnished us abundantly with bread and 
 bacon, and wo are all right once more. The Yankee artillery 
 still continues to roar, but all are as merry in camp as if the 
 enemy were a thousand miles off. It is wonderful how indif- 
 ferent men can become to the most horrible scenes. T. is 
 now behind the army, sick with the jaundice. He is able to 
 go about, and I have just heard that he was with a citizen, 
 making liis way towards Gordonsville. He has the surgeon's 
 permission. I deeply regret that I did not see him again, and 
 furnish him with more money before .ha left. He must be 
 transferred to the cavalry, for he caimot stand the infantry 
 service, 
 
 "The order has juit cojnc to cook three days' rations, and it 
 18 probable that we shall move forward in tlie morning. But 
 no one knows. 
 
 "This has been very little like the Sabbath. With spirits 
 saddened by hunger and fretted by the constant roar of artil- 
 lery, we have been kejit in an uncomfortable frame of mind. 
 The busy preparations for to-morrow prevent any enjoyment 
 of the Sabbath. However, Dr. Stiles is to preach to the Brig- 
 ade this afternoon, and I hope to hear him. It requires a 
 great struggle to keep tlic busy scenes around me from driv- 
 ing all devotion from my heart. Tliey ought to have a con- 
 trar}'^ effect. I ought now more than ever to seek my strength, 
 my happiness, my all, in God. How could I live without liim? 
 With him no storm can disturb my peace, no danger can come 
 nigh, no harm can befall which will not do mo good. 
 
116 SKETCHES. 
 
 "I feel iijrcatly relieved at T.'s absence. I hope be may not 
 rtturn ujitil tlie sliock of battle I see ap])roachi!ii; is past. I 
 can but feel confident that all will be well when it does come. 
 God will give us the victory, and enable ps to crush the infa- 
 mous man who now leads ' the grand army of the glorious 
 Union.' When Lincoln presides, with Ualleck as military 
 chief at Washington, and Pope as the first commander in the 
 field, how can they triumpli over our leaders, who are as dis- 
 tinguished for their piety as they arc for their bravery and 
 skill. ■ ' ' 
 
 "I send you three hundred dollars. Of this I 'wish you to 
 ap])ropriate one hundred dollars for T.'s outfit for the cavalry, 
 one liundrcd to be held subject to my order, and one hundred 
 as a donation to the Confederate States Bible Society and uur 
 committee for the publication of religious tracts and books. 
 
 "Give my warmest love to all at home. You are constantly 
 in my mind and firmly engraved upon my heart. Write when 
 you can to your devoted son, HUGH." 
 
 The tone of this letter difiers from all his former letters. It 
 manifests a strong presentiment of the terrible conflict in wiiich 
 he so emphaticaily jn-edicts that our armjif^jWas to conquer, and 
 in which, though unknown to himself, he was to fall. The 
 satisfaction he expresses at the absence of his 3'oung and nnich 
 loved brother, almost warrants the supposition that he ex- 
 pected to fall. Alas! alas! he never heard from us more, nor 
 we from him until the sad tidings came of his death. 
 
 Nothing is better known than the rapid and prolonged march 
 of the Stonewall Brigade, and others under Jackson's command, 
 for the ])urpose of getting into the rear of the enemy. In this 
 they were successful. They marched sixty-two miles in two 
 days — the 2(Jth and 27th of August. Gen. Longstreet sought 
 to unite with Gen. Jackson, but was delayed by encountering 
 the enemy on the wa}', and thus, for two days, Jackson, with 
 a very inferior ^oi't^e, held the army of Gen. Pope in check. 
 During these two memorable days the issue was still undecided. 
 
SKETCHES. 117 
 
 The fighting however, was desperate, and some of Virginia's 
 noble young sons perished. Among these were Henry R. 
 Paine, of the Ilockbridgc Artillery, , and Wm. C. Preston, of 
 the Liberty Hall Yolunteers, both natives of Lexington, and 
 both highly distinguished for their accurate scholarship, their 
 consistent piety, and their indomitable courage. 
 
 When the approach of night* closed the conflict »jn Fri- 
 day, the 29tli of August, Colonel Baylor, acting Bri*;adier ^f 
 the Stonewall Brigade, sent for Capt. White, and proposed 
 that a prayer-meeting sliould be held, at his quarters. This 
 proposal nifjit a prompt and joyous acceptance, and the young 
 Captain conducted the meeting. On the ensuing morning. 
 Gen. Lee, reinforced by the arrival of Gen. Longstreet, re- 
 newed the attack, and then came one of the most desperate 
 and sanguinary conflicts on record, which ended in the total 
 defeat of the enemy. But to the counties of Augusta and 
 Rockbridge, the victory was dearly bought. The former lost 
 her loved and honored Baylor, the other her brave young 
 Captain Hugh A. AVhite. On Friday night tliese oflicers 
 mingled with many of their comrades in prayer and praise, 
 and on Saturday afternoon, they passed almost at the same 
 instant, from the carnage of the battle-field to the purity and 
 peace of heaven. As fellow-heirs of the grace of life, they 
 were lovely in their lives, and in their death they were not 
 divided. « 
 
 The Sabbath and the sermon spoken of in the preceding 
 letter, were the last our dear boy ever heard or spent on earth, 
 and the prayer-meeting conducted by himself in the tent of 
 Colonel Baylor, on the night preceding his deatl^, was the last 
 he ever attended. As the last charge was made, whoh the 
 issue of the desperate struggle was extremely doubtful, and 
 when it was rendered more so by the fall of acting Brigadier 
 Baylor, who was bearing the colors of the 33d Rcginu-nt, our 
 brave young Captain rushed forward, seized the colters afi they 
 fell, waved thorn in view of the Brigade, advanced in front, 
 until clouds of smoke hid him from the view of liis own com- 
 
118 SKETCHES. 
 
 pany and of his comrades-in-arms, when he fell, and was found 
 by his company as they advanced in ]Mir8uit of tlie retroatiiiix 
 foe. It is not known tliat any human eye saw l\im fall, or 
 whether he spoke or even breathed after the murderous missile 
 entered his breast. But we needed no dying words to assure 
 us of liis safety. We needed no otlier farewell than that con- 
 tained in the preceding Ictte'r. 
 
 ,A dear friend— herself afflicted much in tlic same way — 
 wrote thus to his mother: "May the tender Jesus who said, 
 ' Weep not ' to his owu mother in the extremity of her suffer- 
 ings, say the same to you, dear friend. What ne^ have we 
 to look away from the surroundings of our dear ones' deaths, 
 to forget the battle and the blood, and all the awful circum- 
 stances through which they passed into the pure presence of 
 God. "Think of it — the exchange of the boom of cannon for 
 ' the harpers, harping with their harps ' — the shrieks of furious 
 enemies for the hallelujahs of angels — the fierce onset for the 
 ' Come, ye blessed of my Father ' — the madness of war for the 
 boundless peace of Heaven. These were the exchanges your 
 precious boy made when he breathed out his life into the 
 hands of his Saviour. For himself, he felt nothing but a holy 
 joy, as our Willie* did, and if he turned his thoughts to the 
 
 * Wm. C. Preston, son of Col. J. T. L. Preston, of Lexington, Va., who fell in 
 the same battle. 
 
 The following extrfbt is taken from a sketch of his life and death, published in 
 the Central Presbyterian : 
 
 '"Don't distress yourselves about nie, boys, I am not afraid to die,' ho said to 
 his comrades, as they pressed aaixiously around him. There spoke the considerate 
 friend — the chivalrous young soldier — the fearless christian. Of the few remain- 
 ing hours of his life, little is known. Thus much we are permitted to know. His 
 beloved Captain, ITuKh A. White, was with him on the morning preceding his 
 death. Turning to the Surgeon, Willie asked if it was possible for him to sur- 
 vive; he received a negative answer. 'Could you get a letter to my father?' he 
 asked of Captain White. Upon being reminded of the ditficulty, he acquiesced 
 and said : 'Then I will deliver my incf^sages to you.' These undelivered messages 
 are forever sealed up in the bosom of the noble young leader, who foil, instantly 
 killed, a few hours later." 
 
 Thus let the names of these mai tyrs in the cause of their country go down to 
 4)08terity together. 
 
SKETCHES. 1 1 9 
 
 anguish of his father and his mother at his loss, it must have 
 been with the triumphant assurance that the trust in Jesus 
 which thej had taught him, and which was strong enough for 
 him to die hy, was also strong enough for tJiem to live hy. 
 
 " You are an honored mother to have reared silch a son for 
 immortality. He did not need long years to fit him for a life 
 with God, and if he has gotten home the loonest, without the 
 toilsome march, yon will not think that cause of sorrow, dear 
 friend. If he could lean from the heavenly heights to-day, 
 would he not say something like this : ' Precious mother, 
 there is no need of tears for me. I had all the happiness earth 
 can give. I had a sweet, beautiful life with you all, and with- 
 out the trial of any grief, am translated now to the full posses- 
 sion of the bliss of God's redeemed. Rejoice in my joy.' 
 
 "His dear father and you have my tears and prayers. What 
 have I else to give? 
 
 " Yours in like faith and suflferings, 
 
 M. J. P." 
 
 From a large number of letters written to his family and 
 friends, it is deemed advisable to insert extracts from only 
 three. All these relate chiefly to the time and manner of his 
 death. As to the slight discrepancy which appears in two of 
 these accounts of the posture in which he was found, it is suf- 
 ficient to remark, that one saw him before and the other after 
 he had been turned from the posture in which he fell. 
 
 The first of these extracts is from a letter of General TIioimhs 
 J. Jackson to llev. Dr. Da1)ney. TTie General says: 
 
 "In the second battle of Manassas I lost more than one per- 
 sonal friend. Among the number was Capt. Hugh A. White. 
 We were members of the same church, and had 'been colabor- 
 ers in the same Sabbatli-scjiool. His Ciiristian labors were 
 not confined to times of peace. In the army he adorned the 
 doctrine of Christ, his Saviour. When Testaments or other 
 religious works were to Ik- dibtribnte*], I fduixl him ready for 
 
120 sKETciras. 
 
 the work. Though his loss must be mourned, yet it is stratify- 
 ing to know that he has left us a bright example, and that ho 
 fell, sword in hand, gallantly cheering on his men, and leading 
 them to victory in rejielling the last attack of' the enemy upon 
 that bloody field. 
 
 "Very truly your ft-iend, 
 
 • " "T. J. JACKSON." 
 
 The following extract is from a letter to his brother from 
 one who served with him as lirst lieutenant, and who suc- 
 ceeded him as captain, and who was wounded on the previous 
 day : 
 
 " Deak Sir : I have endeavored to ])rocuro all the particu- 
 lars of your brc»ther's fall, but have only partially succeeded. 
 Many saw liini just^ previous to his death, and several \evy 
 soon afterward, but I can find no one who saw liini in the 
 interval between the time when he was struck and when he 
 expired, if there was any. The reason seems to be this: 
 Immediatel}' before Jie was shot, the brigade had been ordered 
 to charge, but had not proceeded far before it was thrown into 
 considerable confusion, partly by obstructions in the line of 
 march, but principally by the fierce resistance of the enemy ; 
 and it was just at this juncture, when comjianies were sej^a- 
 rated from their regiments, and officers from their companies, 
 that your brother, eager to meet the foe, and undismjiyed by 
 the circumstances which ha<l j^roduced a terhporary confusion 
 in his regiment, having advanced far to the front with his 
 Bword in one haiid and his hat in the other, calling on his men 
 to follow him, fell unobserved near the spot already hallowed 
 by the blood of the gallant Colonel Baylor. Before his .fall, 
 and probably at the moment the fatal missile entered his noble 
 bosom, he was bearing the standard with which Colonel Bay- 
 lor fell while leading the brigade to the charge. 
 
 "But although on account of the confusion, his death was 
 unobserved, his presence was soon missed, and a member of 
 
SKETCHES. 121 
 
 his company, fearing he had been injured, proceeded to Jook 
 for him, and soon found his body. He was lying on liis face, 
 resting it in liis hands, and his pistol and his unsheathed sword 
 lay by his side. 
 
 "He was afterwards 'buried on the field' by a few of his 
 little band, assisted by some friends from other companies. 
 "Thus fell our beloved Captain, mourned not only by the 
 m ^ conipany that had followed him so long, but by every soldier 
 ' "Nfko knew him. We loved him not only as a soldier, but also 
 and especially as a Christian gentleman. As a soldier and 
 officer he was a model; to his company he was exceedingly 
 kind, but his kindness never assumed the form of partiality. 
 }le was just. In the camp he devoted himself exclusively to 
 the promotion of its interests, teirt^joral and eternal. In action 
 he was perfectly fearless, yet his courage was controlled by a 
 sound discretion. On such occasions he was possessed with a 
 peculiar enthusiasm — an unconquerable zeal and determination 
 to meet the foe, and consequently he was always seen among 
 those gallant spirits who go farthest in the direction of the 
 foe. * His command never was ^go on^ but alwaj's 'come on.' 
 "As a Christian gentleman he was also a model. Such ear- 
 ' nestness of disposition — such nobility of soul — such sublimity 
 of purpose — such humility — such devotion to. Christ's cause, 
 not inducing noisy demonstrations, but those quiet, irresistible 
 movements, which are like the sikMit flow of deep streams. 
 lEow rare are such ciiaracters! I have never known one as 
 young as he, so faultless. His ])iety was active — a real living 
 ))rinciple whose movements and influences were seen and felt, 
 not only by his fellow Christians, but also by all who came in 
 contact with him. His eflforts to secure the salvation of his 
 company were unceasing, and to compass this end he was 
 much in prayer, and abounded in good works. As often as 
 circumstances permitted, he distril)uted religious reading — 
 tracts, newspapers, memoirs, <fec. — afmong his company and 
 sometimes in the regiment. It was also his custom, as occa. 
 
 It; 
 
122 RKKTCHES. 
 
 aion.onei'ed. to assemble his company nightly before the door 
 of his tent for relii^ioiis services. 
 
 "We deeply mourn his loss, and feel that his place can never 
 be filled. But 
 
 'Though lost to sight, to memory ever deur.' 
 
 " It gives me unspeakable pleasure thus to bear testimony 
 to the inestimable worth of your noble brother. ^ - 
 
 " Your friend, G. li. S?T^ i« • 
 
 The last extract is ham a letter to I^ev. Dr. Brown, of Rich- 
 mond, troin one who, at the time, belonged to the Rockbridge 
 Artillery, but who was soon after promoted to a place on Gen. 
 Jackson's staff. Dr. Brown jjublished this extract in the Cen- 
 tral Presbyterian. Th*e writer says: 
 
 •'The ' Stonewall Brigade ' received the attack well; was 
 flanked by a strong body of the eneni}', fell buck a few rods, 
 changed front and again advancing, drove the enemy with 
 great slaughter from the field and the cover which they sowght. 
 The result to our dear old brigade was tearful. Col. Baylor, 
 commanding, was mortally wounded, and O! how sad I am to « 
 tell you, that ojir dear friend, Capt. Hugh A. White, of Lex- 
 ington, the noblest of soldiers, fell pierced through his body, 
 when in advance of the brigade, with hat and sword in hand, 
 calling to his men, 'tjome on, come on.' I have seen no one 
 myself who saw him fall. Just after this success of our 
 brigade we advanced with our battery to cover thi3ir advancing 
 columns. The ground was strewn around with the gallant, 
 dearly loved veterans ot our old Stonewall Brigade. Beyond 
 was the long line of blue-coated hirelings, who paid for their 
 crime with their life's blood. 
 
 " I Btood leaning against my gun, waiting for orders and 
 watching the tide of bitftle as it steadily receded from me. 
 Soon one of the Liberty Hall Volunteers caiue up, and, with 
 
SKETCHES. 123 
 
 tears rolling down his cheeks, told us his l)rave Captain was 
 lyinp: there in front of us. 
 
 " I ran forward, and there, too true^ was my best, my noblest 
 friend, with his sweet, lovely face upturned, his eyes gazing 
 upon that world where his spirit had gone, and his body in its 
 last, long sleep. 
 
 " His sword had been already taken aM^ay. I found and took 
 off his Bible and several letters. It was indeed heart-rending 
 as we gathered around. Dear, dear Hugh, the purest, the 
 truest, the best of us all. May we of his companions who are 
 spared, live to love and serve our God more and better, and 
 die to meet him in our home above. What a blessed ministry 
 did wc anticipate in his ! How full of the promise of useful- 
 ness were his amiable, attractive qualities, his accurate and 
 increasing attainments, and his quiet, yet earnest, active piet}'. 
 But I must say no more, though of this subject my heart 
 and head are full. Our victory is great. Again let us turn to 
 God — !nay his goodness lead us to new repentance and obe- 
 dience. " J. P. S." 
 
 God was good in giving this son, good in making him what 
 lie was, and no less good in taking him away, just when and 
 ■ s He did. The belief is sincerely entertained, that neither 
 vanity nor ostentation prompts to this tjffort to perpetuate his 
 memory. But as it was the ruling desire of his heart to make 
 this bad world better, and as tlie bitterest grief of his parents 
 on account of his early death, flows from tlie consideration 
 that he did not accompliali this l)y living, this effort is made so 
 to perpetuate his existence on earth that, being dead, he may 
 vet speak. Well may the old ask, why 'are we feeble, 
 withered, fruitless l)ranche8 spared, and they, so young, so 
 fresh, so fruitful, taken away ? God's ways are not our ways, 
 neither are his thoughts ours. He may render tlie youth like 
 this, who dies at twenty-two, accomplish fjCr more Cor man's 
 
1 24 SKETCHES. 
 
 good and His own glory than they who live to three-score and 
 ten years. 
 
 The young are not likely to find a more striking illustration 
 of the fruth, that " the ways of wisdom ai*e ways of pleasant- 
 ness, and all her paths are peace," than his life furnishes. lie 
 was habitually cheerful and happy. Seeking to enjoy every- 
 thing in God, he enjoyed God in everything, and thus even 
 the vicissitudes of life ministered to his comfort. His life was 
 beautiful, and liis deatli safe, honorable, and useful.