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THE 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE, 
 
 OF THE 121st REGIMENT, N. Y. VOLUNTEERS. 
 
 GOJvEPILEQ EEECPjlI{E(D T$Y HIS S^OEHEI^ 
 
 e. E. %ICE. 
 
 LITTLE FALLS. 
 
 JOURNAL & COTTRIER BOOK ATI) JOB PRITTITG- PRESS. 
 
 1864. 
 

 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ADAM CLARKE RICE was born in Fairfield, Herki- 
 mer Co., N. Y., 1840. and consequently at his death was 
 aged a little over twenty-three years. Our family was 
 large, consisting of five sons and three daughters ; Clarke 
 was the fourth son. Nothing was remarkable in his early 
 life, except that generous impetuosity which afterwards, 
 with proper training, gave promise to make him a leader 
 in whatever he undertook. His mind in early years seem- 
 ed to be rather averse to books, and refused to be chained 
 down to the course of instruction usually dealt out to 
 boys of his age. He was always ready for some new un- 
 dertaking, and never was afraid of any task that was suit- 
 ed to his taste. When but sixteen he went to New York 
 and there spent part of the year in company with an old- 
 er brother, George, who was there engaged in business. 
 This instilled into his spirit a sort of independence which 
 afterwards characterized him. He would never be willing 
 to follow in any path simply because some one had preced- 
 him, but was determined to cut out a way of his own. 
 He again entered the Academy at Fairfield, but as before, 
 being inclined to be wild, as some said, he made little 
 progress in his studies. 
 
 . Again another project entered his mind and he decided 
 to go to Minnesota where Sister Mary was at that time 
 living. She had always shown a great liking to Clarke 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS Oi' 
 
 4 
 
 when hut a little hoy and had always petted him. I be- 
 lieve that he was eighteen when he started. When he ar- 
 rived there he found her heal th to be very poor, the con- 
 sequence of many trials and vicissitudes. This decided 
 him to remain with her ; for he saw that she was rapidly 
 declining. He was the only one of our family with her 
 at her death. Oh ! that was a sad hour for him, as he 
 stood by her bed-side and saw the life-tide slowly ebbing 
 away, as he knew that she must soon die, and that too 
 far away from kindred ties ; that she who had ever been 
 to him such a dear sister, would soon leave him alone to 
 contend with the hard fortunes of life. So young as he 
 was, how could it otherwise than have made an impression 
 upon his pliant nature that no lapse of time could ever 
 efface. 
 
 He alone, of all our kindred, stood by her grave and 
 saw her dear form, clothed with the cerements ot death, 
 silently committed to the dust ; and saw the cold clod 
 cover her from our sight forever. But, methinks, amid 
 all his sorrow at the seeming cruel dispensation, he saw 
 in it the hand of God taking from her shoulders the 
 grievous burdens she had always borne ; placing upon 
 her head the crown of victory ; and instead of a sorrow- 
 ing, heart-broken woman, as she was here upon earth, to 
 thake her an angel in heaven. This I think was the turn- 
 ing point in his life. 
 
 Soon he returned home and pursued his studies with a 
 vigor that surprised us all. All he needed was encourage- 
 ment. We gave it him and soon he received the appro- 
 bation and well wishes of Faculty and Schoolmates. As 
 a writer, his style was one that would be liable to criti- 
 cism by the majority of critics, but was a true type of 
 himself — poetical, impetuous and whole-souled. He was 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE 
 
 5 
 
 for the people ; yet was not afraid of popular disapproval. 
 In his class he took an honorable position as a scholar and 
 a friend, and never lost it during all his stay. He was 
 not a quick student, but a thorough one. In the Sum- 
 mer of 1862 he finished his course in the Academy and 
 was prepared to enter and take a good stand in College. 
 But the country called for more men to fill up the deci- 
 mated ranks of the war-worn veterans who had enlisted 
 at the beginning of the struggle and had already borne 
 the burden and heat of the day. He heard the call and 
 knew that his time had come. He enlisted as a private 
 in Co. C, 121st N. Y. Yols. His friends would willingly 
 and gladly have assisted him in gaining a more lucrative 
 and less burdensome position ; but no : he did not ask 
 it. All he asked was for a place in which he might serve 
 his country, in her trying hour, waiting for promotion 
 and emolument until merit should give them to him. In 
 his company were many of his schoolmates who had made 
 sacrifices equally as great as himself. But a few of them 
 are left. Wilbur Lamberson, and Lieut. Cameron, 
 Capt. Arnold and Fred. Ford, and a host of others, 
 just as brave, have all gone to lead the way, and but a 
 few short months ago Clarke, our hope and our pride, 
 sheathed his sword, laid away his knapsack and wrapped 
 in the colors of his country followed after them, and was 
 mustered into the immortal army above. We knew noth- 
 ing of his illness until the nineteenth of September, 
 1863, we received a despatch from Washington saying 
 that Clarke lay sick at the Seminary Hospital, Geoige- 
 town. Oh ! how we hoped and prayed that his illness 
 might not be fatal, yet feared the worst. Brother Elea- 
 zer started upon the sad journey of visiting hi m an q 
 tending to his wants, within a few hours ; and our dear 
 mother was prepared at any moment to go to meet him. 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 6 
 
 Meanwhile we waited with anxious and heavy hearts to 
 learn his fate, whether better or worse. We received no 
 intimation of Clarke’s situation until the Monday follow- 
 ing, which confirmed all our fears. What bitter grief did 
 those few words convey to our souls : 
 
 “ Clarke is dead ; I shall he at Little Falls with his 
 remains upon Tuesday. 
 
 Eleazer C. Rice.” 
 
 He, Eleazer, had arrived at Georgetown upon Sunday, 
 but it was too late to receive his dying wish. Typhoid 
 fever had consummated its end, — Clarke had died nearly 
 twenty-four hours before, attended only by the hospital 
 nurse, a good, kind, motherly soul. May God bless Irel- 
 and repay her for her tender care of him, when far away 
 from friends she watched by his bedside and administered 
 to each want and desire. Oh ! America may feel proud 
 of her women, as they stand by the bedside of Union 
 soldiers’ in the dying hour. 
 
 Clarke’s body had already been clothed in the cere- 
 ments of the grave and was about to be buried with mili- 
 tary honors. The band was just playing the solemn dirge, 
 the soldiers were drawn up in order to convey his ashes to 
 the cemetery, and to give the last sad farewell to their 
 brother soldier ; the hearse was upon its way up the 
 street ; and everything was just in readiness to bury the 
 
 Brother Eleazer had his body embalmed, and soon 
 started upon his sad journey. We waited anxiously Tues- 
 day for his arrival, but he did not come. Again, upon 
 Wednesday, we waited with sad and anxious hearts, but 
 again we were disappointed. Upon Thursday afternoon 
 he came and we took Clarke’s remains to our home that 
 night to keep them for burial the next day. Here I will 
 insert the letter of W. Ii. P., one of Clarke’s dearest 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 7 
 
 friends and one who, in our saddest hour, rendered the 
 most efficient and kindly aid. This letter was written to 
 the Herkimer County Journal of Sept. 1st, 1S63. 
 Also I will insert in connection with this, the Eesolutions 
 passed by the Calliopean Society of Fairfield Academy, 
 of which Clarke was an active member. 
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Fairfield, September 28. 1863. 
 
 Me. -Editor : — 
 
 Dear Sir — It becomes our duty at times to lay aside the business or 
 pleasures of life to attend to more sacred obligations and to allow the 
 affections to assert their sway over our actions. Such is the feeling in 
 our community caused by the early loss of Lieut. A. Clarice Rice, who 
 died of fever in the Georgetown hospital, Saturday, Sept. 19, 1863, whose 
 death you have already noticed. 
 
 The news of his death came not like the fall 'of the sturdy oak at the 
 woodman’s resounding' stroke, anticipated and looked for, but like the 
 fall of the towering pine, rent by lightning’s shivering blow, unexpected 
 and instantaneous. To many the first intelligence of his sickness came 
 with the solemn toll of the church bell on Monday afternoon, announc- 
 ing the sad tidings of his early doom. 
 
 Words can scarcely portray the sadness depicted on the countenance, 
 as each heard the startling, unwelcome announcement. Sadness filled 
 the breast of every one in his circle of acquaintance, though it was so 
 hard to realize his death that at first incredulity of its truth stamped 
 itself on the mind to give way to the sad certainty of authority. So hard 
 it is to believe that which we would not. 
 
 On Tuesday, preparations having been made, his father and family, 
 accompanied by citizens and delegations from the two Societies of the 
 Seminary, went to the Rail Road to meet bis remains, but were disap- 
 pointed in their coming. Again on Thursday, delegations from the two 
 Societies took their way to Little Falls, and this time met his lifeless body 
 to bear it to bis parents, bis brothers and sisters, bis nearer and more 
 distant relatives and bis friends— a sad duty truly, and one long to be 
 remembered. 
 
 Arriving here, bis coffin was taken into the house, and while the bear- 
 ers, delegations and friends who had gathered at his coming were being- 
 dismissed, the deep silence that rested down upon the sorrow stricken 
 family pervaded the mind and hearts of all who -beheld them in their 
 
8 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 bereavement. It was a sorrow, strong and deep and tender, that needed 
 no words to express its heartrending agony, its soul-stirring anguish. 
 
 On Friday, though the day was most unpleasant, a large concourse of 
 friends gathered at the house and forming in procession, proceeded to the 
 Church where, accompanied by appropriate exercises, the Rev. L. Meri- 
 deth preached a discourse abounding in good thoughts and feelings, 
 many parts of which will long be remembered, from Psalms X. 14 “Thou 
 hast seen it, for thou beholdest mischief and spite to requite it with thy 
 hand ; the poor committeth himself unto thee.” 
 
 After the religious exercises he was taken to the burying ground and 
 lowered to his final resting place, the narrow house in that oity from 
 which none over emigrate. 
 
 And thus closes the career of one of the most noble, generous, patriotic 
 and gifted young men of this section of the country. But little more 
 than a year since he stood in his place as student, friend, brother, son — 
 one of the brightest ornaments of school and community ; but impelled 
 by the love of country, he joined the 121st Regiment to go and 
 battle for the preservation of the Union and nationality. 
 
 Long had he stood the first writer and speaker of the school, carrying 
 the minds of the audience to the highest flights of imagination or through 
 the depths of profounder research ; again he would lead them with hurried 
 tread over wastes of stony facts ; anon he would bask with them in the 
 sunlight of beautiful and gorgous imagery, but never wearying or un- 
 interesting, 
 
 At the time of his enlistment he was prepared to enter an advanced 
 standing in College, but he renounced all, and in the army became a 
 soldier, feeling it his duty to give up his individuality for the general 
 good. One'of the bravest among the brave, he was fast winning his way 
 upward. He had escaped through the battles in which his Regiment 
 had been engaged, and after the one before Fredericksburgh we bad 
 dared to hope that he might be spared to return, and after the war was 
 over, to gladden the walks of private life. But it was decreed otherwise 
 by Him who doeth all things well. In His own good time He called him 
 home, “trusting in his mother’s Saviour” and though we grieve to know 
 that we have lost so much in worth, goodness and humanity, there come 
 the sweet dews of consolation in the thought, that our loss is his great 
 gain. Very truly yours, 
 
 P. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 At a special meeting of the Calliopean Society, of Fairfield Seminary, 
 held Tuesday evening, September 22, 1863, the following preamble and 
 resolutions were unanimously adopted: 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE 9 
 
 Whereas, It has pleased an All wise Providence to remove hy death from 
 among our numbers, Lieut. Clarke A. Rice, therefore he it 
 
 Resolved', That while we bow in submission to the will of the most 
 High, we unite with his many friends in paying the last sad offices of the 
 living to the dead and unite with them in mourning for the departed. 
 
 Resolved, That in him the country lost, one of her noblest soldiers ; 
 the world one of her brightest promises ; freedom one of her truest 
 friends, and truth and right one of their firmest champions. 
 
 Resolved, That as a member of our Society, he was respected for those 
 qualities which most adorn social and intellectual intercourse, ever giv- 
 ing his influence on the side of virtue, and entertaining for nearly six 
 years an unabated friendship with all its members. 
 
 Resolved, That while the Society deeply- feel their loss, it is abated by 
 the knowledge of his entire devotion to the cause for which he left us 
 and became a willing sacrifice. 
 
 Resolved, That though we feel that no words of ours can bring conso- 
 lation to the friends and relatives of the departed, still we deem it our 
 duty to express our sympathy for them in their sorrow and unite with 
 in dropping a tear to his memory. 
 
 Resolved, That these resolutions be published and a copy be sent to 
 the parents of the departed. 
 
 J. B. ROOT, ) n 
 AV. H. POWELL. \ CoMMITTEE ‘ 
 If. CHRISTIE, President. 
 
 G. K. Diefendorf, Secy. 
 
 Amid all our grief at losing’ Clarke there came a great 
 source of consolation in knowing that his body could he 
 buried where we could visit and shed the tears of sorrow 
 upon the little mound that covered him from our sight. 
 No one hut those who have lost friends in this grand 
 struggle for the Eight can know the satisfaction it is to 
 see even the dead body of the dear one and to know that 
 it receives a decent burial, when so many of our noblest 
 brethren are fighting and dying, and are buried, no one 
 knows where, or perhaps are left without burial to bleach 
 upon some Southern plain. Oh ! what anguish such 
 news has conveyed to many a mother’s broken heart ! 
 
 I shall never forget how pleasant and cheerful it seem- 
 ed to us all that night after the arrival of Eleazer. And 
 when we opened the coffin and saw Clarke, cold and 
 dead, yet natural as life, although our hearts ached and 
 2 
 
10 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 throbbed with the most painful emotions, yet we felt it in 
 our hearts to praise and thank God who in His infinite 
 kindness had restored him to us — silent and stiff in 
 death, yet so life like. It seemed as though he was 
 with us once again and that we could almost talk with 
 him as of yore. It may seem incredible to others, and it 
 may have been entirely the work of imagination on our 
 part, but it seemed to us all, that after opening the coffin 
 a smile overspread his countenance, so grateful, so life- 
 like that it seemed as if he was glad to get home 
 again. The next day, (Friday) the 25th of September, 
 1863, we buried him. It was a dark, cold day, and the 
 rain poured in torrents almost, as we lowered him into 
 the damp ground. But, notwithstanding the rain, the 
 citizens of the good old town did everything in their power 
 to show the respect .they felt for Clarke. We went 
 home after the burial with sad, aching hearts. It seem- 
 ed so cruel to leave him there all alone, beneath the cold 
 sod. But we bowed to the will of God and felt to thank 
 Him that Clarke's remains had never been interred be- 
 neath Rebel soil. 
 
 Clarke, at the time of his death, held the commission 
 of 1st Lieutenant, Commanding Co. F, the Company 
 formerly commanded by Capt. Wendell, who nobly fell 
 at Chancellorville. The fact that Clarke had enlisted 
 as a private, and during such a short time had risen to 
 the position he held, was a testimonial of his strict per- 
 formance of duty. His illness before removal to Wash- 
 ington was short and was not at first' considered to be 
 
 O 
 
 dangerous. It adds very much to our grief to know that 
 his recovery would have been almost certain, could he have 
 remained quiet ; but such is the inflexibility of war. We 
 will insert below the letter of Cousin Ward Rice, and 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. H 
 
 also one from Dr. Holt, Surgeon of the 121st, which we 
 received soon after Clarke’s burial. 
 
 Camp of the 121st N. Y. Yols., Sept. 23, 1863. 
 Mr. Thomas A. Rice : — 
 
 Dear Sir — I presume you have heard, ere this, that your son, Lieut. 
 A. C. Rice, was taken sick while the Regiment was at New Baltimore, 
 and was taken to the Regimental Hospital. When we were ordered away 
 from there, Clarice was placed in the ambulance and taken to Warren- 
 ton. From there he was sent to Washington. He was quite sick at that 
 time. Since then we have heard nothing from him. save a notice of his 
 death in the Washington Chronicle, which I will send to you. The 
 initials are the same as Clarke’s ; no rank is given ; the number of the 
 regiment the same, except that it is U. S. Hoping that this is a mistake, 
 yet fearing for the worst, 1 thought it my duty to let you know our fears. 
 Hoping to hear from you soon I remain your sympathizing friend, 
 
 Sergt. W. WARD RICE. 
 
 Immediately after Ularke’s death I wrote to Dr. Holt, 
 inquiring into the nature of his illness before his removal 
 to Georgetown. I give his reply : — 
 
 In Camp on the Rapidan, Va., > 
 October 8th, 1863. 5 
 
 Dear Sir — Your letter of the 28th ult. has been received, and should 
 have commanded earlier attention, hut for the fact of our almost constant 
 moving and changing position, since its reception. 
 
 I must necessarily he very brief in reply to your interrogations, as we 
 again change position to morrow ; but will, as soonas we come to a halt, 
 inform you fully all I know or can learn in relation to your late brother. 
 
 You ask in relation to his illness ; how he was conveyed to George- 
 town, and if during his sickness in tlie Regiment, he expressed any de- 
 sire or request to he made to you ; and also as to his personal effects, &c. 
 
 In answer I would say that, when he left the regiment for the General 
 Hospital, he was not in a condition considered alarming, and was only 
 removed because the army was about to move, and consequently could 
 not receive the treatment at our hands which his case demanded. He 
 was taken with simple bilious remittant fever and for the four or five 
 days he was under our care, every symptom appeared to he better. He 
 was in Regimental Hospital only two days, the rest of the time being 
 treated in quarters. He was conveyed by ambulance to New Baltimore, 
 when he took the Rail Road to Georgetown. This journey was the 
 probable cause of his death ; it being more than the system could endure. 
 
12 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 Had lie remained under our care in quietude, I have not the least douht 
 as to his recovery ; hut when the army moves all sick must also move ; 
 hence many deaths which would not otherwise occur. 
 
 He expressed no wish or desire to have anything said to his friends as I 
 think with myself ; he never even thought of the probability of a fatal 
 issue. * * * * In the meantime I await your orders. I will do all 
 
 in my power to aid you, and deeply deplore the sad and mournful end of 
 •pne, who had bound himself to my heart by many a tender cord. 
 
 Very Respectfully, Your Ob’t Serv’t,. 
 
 DANIEL M. HOLT, 
 
 Ass’t Surgeon, 121st N. Y. V. 
 
 At about this same time we received a letter from Col. 
 Upton, who had always taken a great interest in Clarke, 
 and had always recognized his merit and encouraged him 
 to all laudable ambition. Clarke always spoke of Col. 
 TJpton not only as the “bravest officer he ever saw,” but 
 also as a noble man and a dear friend. 
 
 We regret to say that by some negligence the letter of 
 the Colonel has been lost. It was full of sympathy at our 
 loss as well as sorrow for his own ; saying that Clarke, 
 while he was one ot the best officers in the line, had en- 
 deared himself to superiors and men by strict adherence 
 to duty, as well as by many kind and unselfish acts. — 
 There was such an honesty in all Clarke’s actions that, 
 although he might be in tbe wrong, a person could not 
 help to admire, respect and love him. Perhaps I had a 
 chance to know his inmost feelings, desires and purposes 
 as well as any other one of our family. He had a soul 
 that despised a small, mean act, that hated sham aristo- 
 crcy, that loved humanity, that would spurn to truckle 
 or frown at the feet of any superior human power, that 
 made him ashamed to shirk his duty, that impelled him 
 to ask no more of others than he was willing to do him- 
 self in like circumstances. Actuated by such a spirit as 
 this in his intercourse with men, he could not be other- 
 wise than a faithful soldier, a kind officer and a firm 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 13 
 
 frieiid. This spirit that made him successful in the army, 
 would, had ‘lie lived, have made him successful in the 
 private walks of life. 
 
 Shortly after Clarke’s death that kind, noble woman 
 who had watched him through all his sickness and had 
 received his last dying breath, wrote a letter to our mother 
 concerning the manner of Clarke’s death and also some- 
 thing of his previous illness. 
 
 Here is a portion of it : — 
 
 Georgetown, September 28th., 1863. 
 
 My Dear Friend — I feel it my duty to write a line to you. Your 
 son was sick in my ward. He was very sick all tbe time after he was 
 brought here. His head seemed to be very much affected, and he was 
 too sick to talk much. The Chaplain saw him several times, and talked 
 and prayed with him. He said “his mother’s Saviour was his Saviour.” 
 He asked him if he wanted to see his mother. He replied that he hSd 
 seen her since he was sick. One night, about one o’clock, I had been 
 bathing him, and he looked up and called me “Mother.” Oh! I wish 
 you could have seen him before he died ! I kissed him forh is father and 
 mother, and 1 trust that “Your loss is his gain.” It is hard to lose 
 friends far away from home, but if they are prepared to die, that is the 
 great thing. Oh ! what a delightful thought if we have a hope in the 
 Savior, and Dear Friend, I trust you have that hope to sustain you in 
 all youi® sorrows. “He can all our sorrows heal.” If we trust in him he 
 will never leave, nor forsake us. I long to see this war brought to a ciose, 
 I have passed through some very trying scenes since I have been here, 
 some that I shall never forget, while memory lasts. I have been here 
 almost two years, taking care of the sick and wounded soldiers. Many 
 I have parted with never to meet again, until we meet at the bar of God. 
 
 1 earnestly pray God to make me more faithful, as I shall wish I had 
 been when I come to die. 
 
 Now, Dear Friend, please excuse me for writing, and forgive all mis- 
 takes. Will you please answer this, if you get it 1 _ 
 
 MISS REBECCA W1SWELL, 
 Seminary Hospital, Georgetown, D. C. 
 
 It was one of the greatest sources of consolation to us, 
 to know that Clarke had received such tender care at 
 the hands of this kind nurse in his dying hour. May God 
 
14 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 bless her and all that band of noble women who are tak- 
 ing the places of mothers, sisters and wives, by the bed- 
 sides of our sick and wounded soldiers, who are filling 
 our hospitals to-day. 
 
 The following short paragraph in regard to Clarke’s 
 death, appeared in the Herkimer County Journal, 
 Sept. 24, 1863. 
 
 A Sad Bereavement. — The friends and relatives of Lieut. A. Clarke 
 Rice, of the 121st N. Y. V.. in Fairfield, were startled last Friday by a 
 telegram announcing his severe illness. His brother, Eleazer C. Rice, 
 immediately started for Washington, hut a subsequent dispatch announc- 
 ed his brother’s death, which occurred, we hear, of fever, after a short 
 illness, on Sunday morning. The body was expected here yesterday, but 
 a telegram was received stating that it would not reach here till to-day. 
 
 Lieut. Rice was. we believe, 23 years of age, and was known as one 
 of the most promising, most virtuous, and most esteemed young men of 
 Fairfield. For several years a student of Fairfield Seminary, he mani- 
 fested a proficiency in his studies which marked him as a student of 
 superior ability and talents. A bright future for him was expected by 
 all who possessed his acquaintance — who shall say how fondly by par- 
 ents and friends by whom he was beloved as the hope and the pride of 
 their glowing- anticipations 1 But the call of his country demanded his 
 services and they were given freely. In company with several of his 
 school-day comrades, many of whom have gone to a soldier’s restihg 
 place before him, he left his home and studies for the tented field. No 
 eulogy can fitly pronounce his virtues.- no tongue describe the fervor of 
 that patriotism which bore him away to deadly strife, to wearisome 
 fatigue, to wasting disease — to death. 
 
 When near and dear friends pass away, we cherish 
 every little keep-sake which they have left behind, with 
 a love deeper than that which prompts the miser to hoard 
 his “filthy lucre” in the strong chest. Everything they 
 have possessed, everything they have worn, everything 
 they have wrought, or had their hands upon, seems to us 
 to have a thousand tongues ; and each tongue, to relate a 
 thousand little incidents of their lives. And if there is 
 something in which they particularly excelled, or toward 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RTCE. 
 
 15 
 
 which their minds were especially prone, that excellence 
 or that special quality, we like to bring up before our 
 minds, and to dwell upon it, with ten-fold delight. So, 
 when we mourned at Clarke’s death, this consolation in 
 a measure soothed our afflicted feelings : that although 
 he had gone from us forever ;• although we should never 
 hear his voice again ; although he had died in a distant 
 hospital with none of us to watch over him and to hear 
 his last farewell ; yet he has left us a legacy more precious 
 than gold, more enduring than riches — a legacy of thoughts 
 and words ; words that we have heard him utter ; and 
 words that he has penned to us from afar off, upon the 
 beautiful banks of the Potomac, and the balmy shores of 
 the Rappahannock. Neither have his manly, generous 
 deeds been few in the days of yore, the remembrance of 
 which stirs up .many a sad emotion in our hearts. We 
 loved him not, because he was our brother simp'y ; hut 
 we loved him for the manly generosity of his nature and 
 his spirit of self-sacrifice. We loved him not simply Tie- 
 cause the same blood flowed in our veins, hut because he 
 had those qualities which compelled all who knew him to 
 admire. Consanguinity of blood may bring a sort of 
 liking, hut it cannot bring that deep, abiding affection 
 which a true father or mother will bear to a noble son. 
 You have all seen men whom the world called brothers ; 
 yet they were no more brothers than as if they had been 
 strangers through all their lives. Our love for Clarke 
 was the growth of a long contemplation of the manliness 
 of his nature. In all my intercourse with him I never 
 knew him to commit a mean act. And if he did some- 
 times err, (as we all do too often,) it was not the effect of 
 a low and grovelling disposition, hut rather of his warm and 
 ardent temperament, which sometimes perhaps overcame 
 his will and led him to do those things of which after- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 16 
 
 wards lie would repent. But if we loved him in the quiet 
 days of peace, when together we plodded along in the 
 highway of life, how much more did we respect and 
 admire him, when throwing aside all his bright prospects 
 for the future, (which were not few,) he enlisted as a 
 private to suffer and light for his country and his country’s 
 honor ! Then, indeed, he crowned his previous bright 
 career with the most manly act of all ; and in devotion 
 to his patriotism offered up his life. Have we not, then, 
 amid all our sorrow, reason for rejoicing P Let us think 
 of Clarke as not having lived in vain ; for his life, t hought 
 short was full of kind and noble words spoken, and praise- 
 worthy actions. As you read his letters and other writ- 
 ings, think that for this same patriotism, for this same 
 love of humanity, for this same devotion to Liberty and 
 Union for which he spoke so many noble words, he under- 
 went the hardships of the camp and field, endured the 
 summer’s heat and the winter’s cold, the long dusty march, 
 with nothing at night to cover him from the dews and 
 the frosts, and the storms, and finally offered up his life 
 without a murmur, whispering with his last breath, 
 “Mother! Mother.” Never desponding, never discourag- 
 ed, he was always full of hope, and promising a bright 
 future for the coutry. Ids was so abounding with the 
 imaginative that he never looked at the dark side of the 
 picture. He believed that the cause for which he fought 
 was right and hence must prevail. And amid all his 
 privations, amid all the wearisomeness of the march, he 
 never complained nor faltered, never abated his patriotism 
 nor murmured at his lot ; but always felt proud that he 
 was an American Soldier. In one of his letters ’ o me 
 after his visit home, while on his way to the Regiment, 
 he spoke of his visit to the National Cap ; tol. He says, 
 “I think it was the proudest moment of my life as I stood 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 17 
 
 in Legislative Hall, not as a legislator, sent there by the 
 voice of the people, hut as an American Soldier.” This 
 was indeed a noble pride and well worthy of him. Thus 
 he was during all the time of his t-ervice in the army, 
 never indulging in forebodings but always hoping, trust- 
 ing. I believe that he enlisted from a sense of duty, not 
 rushing blindly into it, but with his eyes open, impelled 
 by a love of country that no selfish love of ease could 
 overcome, knowing full well that he would have to suffer 
 and endure hardships hitherto unknown. He knew that 
 the war w r as no playing spell, but a sad reality ; and, 
 although, as all do, he hoped that he might be spared, 
 yet he knew that many, many brave boys must fall. — 
 Therefore, when privations and hardships come, he met 
 them with a heart prepared by a consciousness of being 
 in the way of duty. ■ A hireling soldier may, by being in 
 contact with those who are drilled, under ordinary circum- 
 stances perform his duties as well as one who is impelled 
 by patriotism ; but when hardships come, when the issue 
 of the contest depends upon their firmness and bravery, 
 being actuated by no moral principle, and caring little for 
 his honor, he will shirk his duty, give way to cowardice 
 and see his comrades shot down’ by his side without feel- 
 ing a single impulse to assist them in the hour which calls 
 loudest for every man to stand to his post. These are 
 the ones who fill the land with their complaints of unjust 
 and hard treatment, yet prate loudest of their achieve- 
 ments. A nation which places hirelings and conscripts 
 as the upholders of its honor and dignity against an 
 enemy, relying upon the justice of its cause and the 
 patriotism of its soldiers, will shed its blood in vain ; for 
 “God is not on the side of the largest battalions,” but 
 upon the side of Right and Civilization. I need not prove 
 this ; God, speaking in tones of warning through the his- 
 
 / 
 
18 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OP 
 
 toiy of fallen nations and ambitious yet unprincipled 
 conquerors overthrown, has proclaimed it. This nation 
 must feel the terrible reality of the war that is upon us 
 and then she can consistently ask God tor assistance, and 
 receive it, and not till then. 
 
 Clarke, in his enlistment, proved true to his nature. 
 He might be in the wrong, he might be fanatical, but never 
 was he ashamed or afraid to declare and sustain his prin- 
 ciples, whatever they might be. He was emphatically 
 not a “modern conservative.” He hated slavery of every 
 kind with all his heart and soul before the war, and when 
 it came upon us, he saw in it the hand of God laying hold 
 of the nation to lead it through the Red Sea of blood to 
 the Canaan of freedom and peace. He believed in the 
 nobility of the human race, and in man’s common brother- 
 hood. He believed in Republican Government in all its 
 nobility, and so, when he saw traitors banded together to 
 overthrow it, he buckled on the armour to carry out his 
 convictions with deeds. He believed Slavery to be the 
 cause ot all our difficulties, and so, when he fought Rebels 
 in arms, he fought oppression, the motive power of the 
 Rebellion, at the same time. He believed that God ruled 
 nations as well as men, and so when he saw the country 
 upheaved by this internal strife, he believed He was work- 
 in”' out His will. These I believe to have been Clarke’s 
 convictions when he enlisted. These sustained him in the 
 hour of suffering — for I do not think he had a natural 
 inclination to military life. These heart-felt convictions 
 made his death a holy sacrifice to our Country’s liberty 
 and safety. 
 
 It may be asked by some, why we have published these 
 writings. In answer, we say, for nothing else but our 
 own gratification. We do not wish to aggrandize Clarke’s 
 memory, we do not wish to say that he was actuated by 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 19 
 
 any nobler motives than a host ot other brave soldiers 
 who have fallen in this contest. We do not wish to say 
 that his letters and other writings were any better than 
 any one else could write, that they breathed forth any 
 purer sentiments and nobler thoughts than pulsate through 
 the bosom of every young man. No — nothing ot this 
 
 kind has impelled us — but Clarke’s writings were pre- 
 cious to us ; we loved them almost, as we did him, and so 
 we have collected them together in this little volume, just 
 as he wrote them, as memorials ot one we loved so dearly. 
 They were so like him, such outspoken expressions ot his 
 inmost nature, that it seems as we read them that we are 
 almost talking with him. We care not what the critic 
 would say about them. This volume is not for his peru- 
 sal, but if it shall fall into the hands of any who have 
 lost dear friends in this grand struggle for the Right, they 
 will understand and know why we have made these writ- 
 ings public. 
 
 Now, in conclusion, we would say to those who were 
 not bound to Clarke by any tie of blood, but his near 
 and dear friends : He loved you all kext to Ids kin, and 
 no success which he might httain in life could induce him 
 to forget those he loved. He has gone forever — never 
 more can we press bis hand in cordial welcome, but it in 
 perusing this little book you can see any resemblance ot 
 himself portrayed, think that he died as he had lived and 
 spoken, a brave, generous, fret -heard d friend, who loved 
 his friends and home dearly, but in devotion to his country 
 sacrificed them all, and finally his life. 
 
 His life has not been sacrificed in vain. He has fallen 
 in a noble cause. And, bye and bye, when our nation 
 shall have emerged from this awful struggle, although 
 draped in mourning, and burdened by debt, the American 
 people far up above her statesmen, her orators, her phi- 
 
20 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 losophers, and her poets, on the pillar of fame, will write 
 u ln Memoriam” and beneath it in letters of gold they 
 will inscribe the names of the patriot-soldiers, who fell in 
 the great war of 1861. 
 
 •'How sleep the brave who sink to rest, 
 
 Hy all their country s wishes blest. 
 
 When spring with dewy fingers cold. 
 
 Returns to deck their hallowed mould : 
 
 She there shall dress a sweeter sod, 
 
 Than fancy's feet have ever trod. 
 
 By fairy hands their knell is rung ; 
 
 By form unseen their dirge is sung ; 
 
 There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, 
 
 To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 
 
 And Freedom shall a while repair, 
 
 To dwell, a weeping hermit there.” 
 
 C. E. K. 
 
 Fairfield, September, 1864. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 21 
 
 We open this little volume with an Oration, written by Clarke, at 
 Fairfield Academy, on 
 
 THE SOLDIERS OF TO-DAY. 
 
 How the star of fortune rules the world’s soul-tide with 
 a rise and' fall ; fluctuates it with a ceaseless ebb and 
 flow ! How high-hearted hopes, chilled by disappoint- 
 ment’s icy touch, droop like flowers nipped by the Autumn- 
 al frost ; how the slumbering fires of the heart kindle into 
 the glow of enthusiasm, as fickle chance breathes its in- 
 spiration there ! How, like fallen leaves, the play- 
 things of the sporting gale, we, the weightless leaves 
 of nature’s life-tree, are swept here and there, upon a 
 thousand current winds of destiny ! Truly are we sus- 
 pended by countless mystic chords, upon which we cease- 
 lessly vibrate from hope to fear, from joy to grief, from 
 glory to shame, from weal to woe. Alas ! life, after all, is 
 but a swing from the cradle and a drop into the tomb. As 
 the silken canvass of time slowly moves before the world’s 
 great central show-place, each event casts its bright or 
 sable shadow ; each insect sketches its own faint career ; 
 each human being has his Artist-Destiny to paint, his 
 life-picture, bright or dim ; each nation to sketch its his- 
 toric scene, grand or faint ; all are mingled shades ot 
 cheer and sorrow, of success and defeat, nicely blended to 
 form a perfect life panorama. But time bears away no 
 cheerless monotony in its scenes, no pictures of unbroken 
 beauty, no prospects dark that present no charm, no shad- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 22 
 
 ows so black that no bright tinges are scattered here and 
 there. There is exquisite beauty in variety, and power 
 in a curve. There is a soul in a trickling tear, and heaven 
 in a cheerful smile. There is lightning in a glance, and 
 thunder in a sigh. The hopeful and courageous stand 
 proud, like mountain oaks that never stoop, while the 
 children of despair, bowed in grief, like weeping willows 
 droop, and gentle word will never cease to vibrate upon 
 the world’s heartstrings, stirring them with a harmonic 
 thrill, while the harsh mandates of authority, fall unheed- 
 ed, and melt away upon the winds like the sigh of a girl. 
 There is no day so bright that a solitary cloud never casts 
 its shadow down ; no night so dark that no beams of 
 light nor a solitary star send forth their fiery brightness 
 to scare away the dim visaged spectres of the midnight 
 hour. 
 
 We see this lesson in every chapter of the book of time, 
 and sadly do we learn it to-day, upon the open page of 
 our nation’s history. Surely it is a melancholy hour for 
 our struggling, alas ! our bleeding country ; a perilous 
 pass in the pilgrimage of her National existence. To the 
 world’s anxious vision she presents a spectacle pitiable 
 indeed, as alone, almost forlorn, amid tempest wild, and 
 lightning flash, and thunder’s deafening roar, weeping' 
 like a child, though proud as the queen of nations, she 
 presses forward in the path-way of destiny. Well might 
 the good genius of humanity, shed bitter tears and sigh 
 heavily as she beholds her in distress ; and fear lest, ex- 
 hausted, she faint amid the storm ; fear lest her dying 
 moans should wail the requiem of Liberty, and her toga, 
 white as the driven snow, become the robe of tyranny, her 
 history but a quick-told tale, her remains, like murdered 
 Poland, should be the food of despotism forever, and her 
 tomb the last Mecca of the world. Dark as is this picture, 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 23 
 
 sad as is this scene of our country, yet there are features 
 and colors in it as bright and beautiful and sublime, as 
 the finger of destiny ever traced and the world has ever 
 seen. Survey the broad sweep of the world’s history, from 
 the morn of civilization to the noon of the nineteenth 
 century, and find, if you can, a brighter picture than that 
 presented by the half million Patriot-Soldiers, who have 
 rallied around their country to-day, offering themselves 
 sacrifices for America, her people and her laws. Roll up 
 the screen that hides from our view the world of the past, 
 and show us where or when another such a noble band of 
 heroes as humanity cried for, marshalled themselves under 
 the genius of Liberty, rallied forth in crusade against the 
 legions of death, and upon the holy errand of Charity and 
 Mercy. When they saw Liberty writhing in pain and 
 bleeding at a hundred pores, they bound up her wounds. 
 When they saw Justice prostrate and fainting bv the 
 way-side, they offered consolation and breathed the in- 
 spiration of life into her fainting form. When they be- 
 held our country bowed in grief and weeping with a 
 broken heart, they cheered her drooping spirits, with 
 cheerful word and noble deed. When they heard her 
 people mourn and feebly crv for help, like children wand- 
 dering in the storm, they listened and to the rescue com- 
 ing outstretched a helping hand. 0 ! Philahthropy ! 
 Guardian Angel of the true ! How deep is the fountain 
 life of thy affections ! 0 ! Mercy ! Beautiful Sister of 
 
 Grace ! How thy generous heart is moved by the breath 
 of supplication and swells with tender pity for the suffer- 
 ing ! 0 ! Charity ! Prince of the soul ! what shall set 
 
 bounds to thy empire, while weakness craves protection 
 and innocence pure to woe is given ! 0 Heroism ! Valor 
 incarnate ! Beautiful soul ! How brave is thy life for 
 humanity spent ; how destiny yields to thy magic touch 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 24 
 
 and success twines its wreath around thy brow. Philan- 
 thropy so true, Mercy so kind, Charity so generous, He- 
 roism so brave — each a force associated in purpose,' guard 
 the feet, illumine the soul-chamber, drive the heart-pulse 
 and nerve the arm of the Patriot-Soldiers of to-day ! 
 
 When the war trumpet sounded the tocsin o’er all the 
 nation, a night" of sorrow hung over the country like a 
 sable pall, and a cry of national lamentation went up like 
 a wail upon the troubled winds. The band of treason 
 had twined its icy fingers around the very heart-strings 
 of the nation, as if to freeze and sunder the vital chords 
 of her existence, and there was a great fear that Slavery 
 had at last digged the grave for the genius of America. 
 But the nation’s life-tide had not ebbed away, nor its 
 pulse ceased to beat in quick response to the throb of 
 freedom’s heart. In these soldier-heroes, to whom we 
 delight to sing praises, and pay the tribute of our respect, 
 there was a love of Liberty too warm, too strong for hope 
 or fear to chain or chill — a spirit of patriotism which trea- 
 son could neither bribe nor fashion — a loyal will which 
 fate could neither break nor rule — a spirit of bravery which 
 laughed at fearful danger, and dared woe to do its worst. 
 Though treachery lurked in secret places, guarded by the 
 cohorts of treason, though conservatism, like a ghost com- 
 ing from the tomb, was w r ont. to chill the spirit of patriot- 
 ism by wailing over the honors of war. Even though the 
 midnight hour seemed to stare at them with the piercing 
 eye of death, yet they went forth, hold, fearlessly, God- 
 like, under the standard of the free, with the smile of 
 Justice playing upon every cheek, and the tire of Liberty 
 burning in every eye. Brave Soldiers ! Gallant Knights 
 of thee, 0 Liberty ! How Justice smiles at thy approach ; 
 how Humanity rejoices at thy timely coming ; how Lib- 
 erty grows cheerful and strong in thy gallantry true ) 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 25 
 
 how America boasts of thee to valor given ! When did 
 moral beauty robe herself in colors more bright ? When 
 did patriotism inspire heroes more brave ? When did 
 Freedom find errants more true, friends more dear ? 
 When did national glory appear more proud, or wear 
 majesty more grand than in the Patriot-Soldier whom 
 to-day America is proud to boast her own. The arms of 
 sis hundred thousand men, outstretched to snatch thun- 
 der bolts of death ere they strike humanity to the dust ; 
 the hearts of six hundred thousand men beating — beat- 
 ing — beating to a people’s needs and a country’s call ; 
 the lives of six hundred thousand men of earth’s noblest 
 children willingly laid upon the nation’s altar, as war- 
 rants of true devotion, aud a pledge . that America shall 
 live forever ! No feudal lord summoned them to the 
 battle-field tor tyranny to fight ; no dream-fancy illured 
 them in folly’s course ; no spectre wild of bewildered 
 brain, no ambition of military glory, moved to war of 
 conquest, or ill-gotten gain ; no flickering pleasure or 
 hope of ease illured them into the hardships of a soldier’s 
 life, to meet a soldier’s fickle fate ; no sordid passion 
 wields its sceptre over their souls ; no purposeless aim, 
 like a wandering star illumines the pathway to glory and 
 to fame. No ! none of the base and groveling motives 
 touch the nerves or stir the life-chords of these brave men 
 — citizens of the tented field. They endure suffering that 
 we may remain untouched by sacriligeous harm. Brave- 
 - ly they march through dangers that we may be in safety. 
 Nobly they fight the battles of Humanity and the Right, 
 that we may enjoy the sunshine ot Peace. Cheerfully 
 they crusade against the legions of darkness, that our in- 
 stitutions of learning, the towering light-house, and the 
 scattered lights of the world, may stand and radiate for- 
 ever. Fearlessly they war against the vandal hordes of 
 4 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 26 
 
 despotism, that freedom may prevail, and liberty, beauti- 
 ful liberty, may reign empress of this western empire, — 
 and alas they even die with no murmur, without a sigh, 
 that our country may survive and forever live. 
 
 Where is stupidity so blind as not to appreciate these 
 heroic deeds ? Where is indifference so false as not to vi- 
 brate upon every heart-string, with sympathy for these 
 dauntless friends ? Where is ingratitude so base, or en- 
 mity so black, as not to feel thankful for these unreward- 
 ed kindnesses ? Where is human nature so heartless, or 
 soul so cold, as not to pity the brave, brave soldiers, when 
 they are toiling, suffering and dying in our behalf? But 
 sorrow casts its dark shadow across the soul, when the 
 reflection springs up in the mind that we do not properly 
 appreciate their services, that we do not fully feel what 
 sufferings they endure, and how sadly they need our re- 
 membrance, our tender care and heartfelt sympathy. — 
 Many leave cheerful homes, where content sat smiling 
 happily and joy reigned undisturbed — hut what a change 
 is there now ! Sorrow has flung its dark shadow through 
 all that home ; gloom has hung its sable curtains at ev- 
 ery window ; cheerfulness with a bowed head sits weep- 
 ing in the lonely corner ; sadness, grim as death, sits wrap- 
 ped in a dark cloak at the great hearthstone ; and fearful 
 anxiety keeps “tapping, still tapping” at the outside door. 
 Fancy paints scenes of distress and want for the reluct- 
 ant vision, and death-shrieks are heard in the moan of the 
 winds, as they mournfully wail through the long winter 
 nights. Surely ’tis all sorrow and sadness at home ; hut 
 its departed loved ones — they who went forth to battle 
 nobly — where, where are they ? They too are changed, 
 and perchance how sadly ! Now their home is in the 
 ffented field. A dark curtain screens the world. No hap- 
 py friend is there to breathe consolation ; no family chor- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 27 
 
 us is heard, such as was wont to float upon the air, like 
 the music of the spheres ; no voice of mother kind is 
 heard, as once it filled the soul like the thrill of iEolian 
 harp. They, see no bright fire in the cheerful fire-place, 
 where once, when childhood had its day, they used to sit 
 and look. at the hopeful life-pictures in the coals. < 
 
 It is a cold, dark night, without a single star to shed a 
 cheerful ray. The icy winter breath chills them to the 
 very heart, and its storm-\yinds blow through the worth- 
 less tents, and seem to sport with their shivering forms. 
 
 Perhaps they are sitting around their camp-fires, with 
 bowed heads, and tearful eyes, and aching hearts. Si- 
 lence reigns undisturbed. No sign is heard,; no word 
 falls from the lips ; no tongue is -moved to tell the sad 
 tale of the soul. Gaunt hunger may be preying upon 
 their wasted bodies ; their clothes perhaps are thin and 
 torn, and ill-suited to the icy weather. Alas ! pale sick- 
 ness, it may be, has gathered its cold, damp sweat upon 
 their brows, and death-worms are gnawing at the golden 
 life-chords of their existence. Many poor men willingly 
 went forth at our country’s call, leaving, families, dear 
 families, behind upon the charity of fate. They have 
 fought and bled and died in the cause of their country’s 
 liberty; but, I fancy, if we should visit their humble 
 homes, once so cheerful, we would find misery dwelling 
 over them like an evil spirit. Famine prowls by daylight 
 and there’s nought but dying embers faintly glowing in 
 the old fireplace. The frosty windows jar and rattle, and 
 the winds play with the door-latch. 
 
 Let us enter one of these homes : A lonely widow sits 
 weeping without condolence, without sympathy as she 
 mourns her misfortune and loss, while beautiful, though 
 helpless, children play around her knee, crying, ‘'Moth- 
 er, mother ! why does father stay away so long ?” This 
 
28 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 touches a tender chord in that mother’s heart, and she 
 says, with quivering lips, “ Be quiet, my dear children ; I 
 guess he will come back soon.” Little do those innocent 
 children think that their father is sleeping — aye the slum- 
 ber of the tomb. 
 
 When the noble Winthrop fell, the genius of litera- 
 ture chanted a requiem to departed glory, and the world 
 of letters bowed to bewail his melancholy fall. When 
 brave Lyon was shot to the dust, the spirit of patriotism 
 drooped for a time like a frost-nipped flower, and the na- 
 tion deeply mourned. When daring Baker fell to the 
 dust, bleeding at a dozen wounds, the goddess of elo- 
 quence wept like an orphan child and the people rushed 
 to do honor to his memory over his proud remains. But 
 hundreds of soldiers, just as brave, just as worthy, have 
 passed away in their country’s cause, and the heedless 
 world noticed them not. The nation shed not a solitary 
 tear ; the people made no public lamentation. No muf- 
 fled drum sounded its beats, as their bodies were lowered 
 into the ground. No cheerful flower of grateful remem- 
 brance has been planted upon their solitary graves. Thus 
 an ungrateful world lets pass away into forgetfulness her 
 noblest children. Thus death dries up the fountains of 
 sympathy in the human heart. Thus our poor soldiers 
 live lor us, fight for us and die for us. Thus the dust of 
 forgetfulness gathers over their memories, and oblivion 
 casts its sable pall to screen them from the world forever. 
 But ought we to be so cruel and iron-hearted as not to be 
 full of sympathy for our soldiers, suffering in our behalf? 
 No : Charity forbid ! Has humanity sunk to such a low 
 ebb of degeneracy as not to receive them? No: Mercy 
 forbid ! Can we be so heedless or ungrateful as not to 
 remember them in sickness — much more after they are' 
 dead ? No : Heaven forbid ! But when you sit with. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 29 
 
 your friends by your warm and cheerful firesides, and the 
 dry winds hoarsely whistle through the crevices, and the 
 wild storm beats against your jarring windows, and the 
 outside world seems cheerless, dreary and wrapped in an 
 icy armour ; remember, 0, pity ! our brave patriot 
 soldiers. 
 
 [Thus did he plead for the soldiers, hut when it came his turn to lay 
 aside his bright prospects and to suffer all for his country, not a word of 
 dissatisfaction escaped his lips, never did he utter one word that would 
 go to show that his patriotism had abated or that he thought his lot a 
 hard one. What a satisfaction it was to us to receive those letters of his 
 when they were so full of good cheer and confidence in his cause and 
 calling- 1 That he did have his dark hour, no one can doubt, but to us 
 at home he always presented the bright side of the picture, as these let- 
 ters which we present to you will clearly show ] 
 
30 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 ggp'"' This letter was written while the 121st lay encamped nearBakers- 
 ville, Md., nearly a month after the regiment first entered the field : 
 
 Camp near the Potomac, Oct. 19, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Parents : 
 
 I received a very encouraging and most welcome letter 
 from you (mother) some time since, and could I have fol- 
 lowed the promptings of my feelings, it would have been 
 answered long before this. But you know in what circum- 
 stances soldiers are placed from necessity when our country 
 rocks upon the fickle fate of war. Often do our thoughts 
 fly back to linger once again around dear friends and all 
 the pleasant spots of memory and of home, and when we 
 find that our visits thus made are but the lifeless joys of 
 a passing dream, which break like bubbles on the water, 
 the noblest feelings of the heart sweep up and yearn to 
 communicate themselves to those we deem our friends ; 
 to respond to every touch of sympathy which letters from 
 home send vibi'ating through our souls. Mother, if you 
 could only imagine how much joy that letter occasioned 
 me, you could not fail to write very often. 
 
 Since I last wrote I have enjoyed most excellent health ; 
 as good, I know, as though I had been at home. I think 
 I ought to feel thankful in the bottom of my heart that 
 I have always been so favored by nature as to my health, 
 and so graciously blessed as I drift swiftly down the tur- 
 bid stream of a soldier’s life. I can well feel thankful, for 
 while in our long and tedious march from Washington, 
 man after man, utterly exhausted by the heat and the 
 march, fell prostrate by the wayside, I never was behind 
 my company more than ten minutes at a time, and while 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RfCE. 
 
 31 
 
 so many poor suffering soldiers of our ranks lay sick and 
 dying in the hospitals, where the white- winged angel of 
 mercy hardly dares to come, and so many, feeble and worn 
 out, are excused from duty, I have never been absent from 
 duty but one day since I left home. Somehow I feel confi- 
 dent that I shall be favored with unimpaired health as long 
 as I shall be called upon to serve as a soldier in the cause of 
 our struggling country. And although it would be far 
 from my wish to spend all my days in discharging the 
 duties of a military life ; yet, let me assure you, that I 
 never enjoyed myself better than I do, to-day, enlisted 
 as I hope, in the cause of national reformation, and 
 of national liberty, though some hardships do hang 
 upon our heels, and Old Winter, cloaked in his snowy 
 robe, stares us in the face and threatens to breathe his 
 icy wings upon us. 
 
 This war cannot last forever, and the Union, the tem- 
 ple of our national liberty, the watch tower of all our 
 hopes, the treasure house of all our fortunes must be pre- 
 served. And after the fires of this conflict shall have 
 burned out all the soot of its crime and iniquity, the 
 morning star of peace will dawn upon the mighty fabric, 
 which can defy all the storms of centuries, whose inhabi- 
 tants shall be a people, happy, united and free. True, the 
 sacrifice of a hundred thousand martyrs and perhaps un- 
 told hundreds more, as a ransom for the salvation of our 
 fallen country, is an awful atonement for her protracted 
 tyranny ; but when w T e reflect that she has been the 
 only nationality upon the earth that has dared to wel- 
 come liberty, and taking her by the hand has led her 
 through the storms of eighty years ; and that now if she 
 should perish, the cloud of universal despotism would 
 shut out the noon-day light of the. century, we see 
 how small is that sacrifice, when compared with the 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 32 
 
 untold blessings we shall receive by snatching our 
 country from her impending peril. Surely God never 
 gave us mind to hope for a better end, nor arms to raise 
 in a holier cause. 
 
 Sunday, toward noon, Galvin Carpenter and myself 
 came over to the hospital to see the sick, and were most 
 agreeably surprised in finding Mrs. Lajiberson there. I 
 had been very fearful that she would not get there in 
 time to see Wilbur before the silver stream of life had 
 silently ebbed away, and left nought but a fountainless 
 fountain here behind. 
 
 Since she has been here it was thought at one time that 
 Wilbur was dying, but he revived, and there seems to be 
 a chance for his recovery. 
 
 Four deaths have already occurred in the regiment. — 
 The other night a man lying right beside Wilbur Lam- 
 berson died, and was buried before morning. It was a 
 shame upon his Company that he had no one, no, not one, 
 to notice him, no one to touch him with a sympathetic 
 hand, no one to drop one word of kindness in his wakeful 
 ear. He was a poor Irishman whom nobody owned, — a 
 sick, dying soldier, whom the busy world never turned to 
 notice. I used often to see him as I went down to see 
 our boys, stretched upon the straw as helpless as he was 
 lonely ; the flies actually crawling into his mouth , — 
 the hot autumn sun streaming in his face, — his eyes half 
 closed, and the damp death sweat standing upon his 
 manly brow ; and there he lav until that solemn mid- 
 night hour, when, as the outside world was wrapped in 
 slumber, his life ebbed noiselessly away, and a few fellow 
 soldiers laid him down to rest without a coffin, — without 
 a shroud, — without a word of pity, and without a funeral 
 dirge. For the crown of thorns which he wore here upon 
 earth, in heaven he will wear a wreath of laurel. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 33 
 
 I can predict, nothing as to our future movements. I 
 was in hopes we should do something this Fall, but no- 
 thing here indicates that now. But the bugle calls me 
 to duty, so I must close. Write to me often, and accept 
 this from 
 
 Your loving son. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
 Hagerstown, Nov. 26th, 1862. 
 
 My Deak Father and Mother : 
 
 You may be somewhat surprised at receiving this letter, 
 dated at this place, a town in the northern part of Mary- 
 land ; but I will explain. Last Friday morning, a rainy 
 dismal morning you may be assured, just after I had 
 crawled out of our little sheeting house, and called the 
 Reville roll-call, the Adjutant came to me and told me 
 that the Lieut. Colonel desired me to accompany him in 
 a tour through Washington, Harper’s Ferry, Hagerstown, 
 &c. I was wonderfully surprised but not less*pleased at 
 the proposition. I gladly accepted the offer, and accord- 
 ing to instructions, prepared and ate my breakfast in 
 “double quick” time, and very soon was in readiness for 
 the future journey. 
 
 The object of our mission was to gather up the sick 
 belonging to our regiment whom we had left scattered 
 around in the hospitals of the State. We finally left our 
 encampment, which was about six miles from Fredericks- 
 burg, and followed the Acquia Creek R. R. down to the 
 landing on the Potomac, a few miles above the point 
 where the beautiful stream empties into the Chespeake 
 bay. 
 
 It rained hard and incessantly from the time we left 
 camp until we arrived at the steamer Nellie Baker, the 
 pride and queen of the Potomac. We had a most pleas= 
 5 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 34 
 
 ant and interesting sail up the river, and as night was 
 falling, landed in the Capital of the West. The Potomac 
 is a beautiful stream, reminding us very much, of the 
 Hudson. Some very fine scenery along the banks, — hut 
 it looks wild, uncultivated, and unadorned with splendid 
 mansions, — eden-like parks, — and garden-like fields, as 
 are the hanks of the North River. 
 
 Early in the morning after our arrival in the city, the 
 Colonel started for Alexandria, leaving me a pass to per- 
 ambulate the National Metropolis as inclination should 
 lead. My heart leaped with joy, for I longed for an op- 
 portunity to view that city whose stupendous wheels, 
 turned by the will of the commonwealth, drives the 
 mightiest and noblest government the world has ever 
 si en I walked through almost every street of importance, 
 passed huiriedly through Smithsonian Institute, saw the 
 White House, and stood 'proudly in the Representa- 
 tive Hall of our country,— if not as the august represen- 
 tative of the people, certainly in the honorable attitude 
 of an American soldier. I wish I had time to relate to 
 you what I saw, and language to express the feelings that 
 went surging through my heart, as I stood and looked 
 upon the American wonders, the National monuments of 
 that city. Smithsonian Institute is almost boundless in 
 dimensions, yet is lull of the noblest, works of art, and the 
 grandest curiosities of nature. I could see the bright 
 form of the man that founded that Institution in every 
 thing I beheld. Though dead, he still lives. The Capi- 
 tol in point of size and grandeur, far exceeded the limits 
 of my boldest anticipations. Well may our country feel 
 proud of it, as was the Roman Commonwealth of the 
 Pantheon. 
 
 Sunday morning we left Washington, and at noon ar- 
 rived at Harper’s Ferry, that desolate, forlorn, forsaken 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 35 
 
 village, where but three short years ago the martyr of the 
 nineteenth .century played before an astonished world the 
 noblest part in American history. The melancholy town 
 is bowed upon her knees in sack cloth and ashes, and well 
 may she ask the proud spirit of that brave old martyr, for- 
 giveness for betraying him to the bloody hang-men of the 
 nation. 
 
 It is the saddest looking place 1 ever saw. It seems 
 covered with shame for its deeds of wickedness. No 
 hotel ; half the houses deserted ; the stores nearly all 
 shut ; there are two little brick churches ; but no preach- 
 er and no schools. The arsenal is in ruins ; sick and 
 dying soldiers are in the silent mills. The peoj le are 
 sullen and sorrowful, and the stieets deep in mud. At 
 some time I will send you a little piece ot wood which I 
 took from the room in which John Brown stood when lie- 
 waved his sceptre of light over the proud form of “Old 
 Virginia,” for once bowed in the dust, and where he was 
 at last taken and led to the altar of unholy sacrifice. 
 
 I would like to write more about this place, but have 
 not time. To-morrow we shall go to Harrisburgh, from 
 thence to Baltimore, then to Washington, and thence to 
 our regiment. 
 
 Write often to your Soldier Boy and accept love from 
 Your Loving Son, 
 
 Clarke. 
 
 The following is a letter written at Crampt-on Gap, just before 
 the battle at Antietam. T he regiment were expecting to be ordered into 
 the engagement at any moment : 
 
 Sunday Noon, Sept. 14th, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Sister : 
 
 I have just finished reading your most welcome letter, 
 the Chaplain having arrived, bringing the mail of the 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 36 
 
 regiment from Washington. It was doubly interesting, 
 tor the reason that it may be the last word of friendship 
 that will ever reach my ears from those I love so well. 
 \\ e have been marching all day right in the face of the 
 enemy. All day has the air resounded with the echoes 
 ot the booming cannon. W e are in the historic valley of 
 the P otomac,and but a short distance from Harper’s Ferry 
 We have been expecting fur hours that we should be 
 called into an engagement ; and now, as T steal these few 
 idle, moments to write to you, we are concealed behind 
 the brow ot a. large hill, that the rebels may not drop their 
 shells right in-among us, and thus launch us into the dim 
 land of shadows. As i write these words sitting by a 
 little laughing brook, with ten-thousand fellow soldiers 
 leaning upon their arms around me, the cannonballs and 
 shells are whizzing in the air above our heads, wdiich are 
 qitickly responded to by our batteries stationed upon the 
 heights behind us. 1 am writing with all my accoutre- 
 ments on, expecting every moment to hear the order of 
 “attention” and “forward march” to the held ot battle. 
 
 1 cannot tell what is to be done ; we may be engaged in 
 half an hour and may not in several days. 
 
 Monday, Sept. 15. 
 
 1 had just finished the last sentence, when we werecall- 
 ed to “attention” and all the other regiments in our di- 
 vision, (Gen. Slocum’s) and part of Gen. Smith’s, being 
 old and experienced troops, were ordered forth from our 
 secure position to meet the enemy stationed in a very ad- 
 vantageous place in the woods upon a high eminence 
 about a mile distant. Owing to our inexperience, we were 
 ordered to stay behind, wisely 1 presume, though all were 
 willing, it not anxious to go forth and try their chances ; 
 to share the shame of defeat, or glory ot victory. Fora 
 time the conflict fiercely raged until night began to fling 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 37 
 
 her shadows down, when to fhe glory of our arms and the 
 joy of the patriot-soldiers, the rebel forces gave way leav- 
 ing us in possession of the field. Our troops were under 
 the command of Gen. Franklin, and the rebels were led 
 by Howell Cobb. I heard him speak once in New York, 
 and well remember how he looked, and how strongly he 
 defended the Union, against which he now raises his sac- 
 riligious hands. The loss upon our side, killed and 
 wounded, is estimated 150, while those of the rebels can- 
 not be less than 500. Of these we took 300 prisoners. 
 Having no orders to march, we remained last night where 
 we were stationed during the battle, but this morning at 
 five o’clock we took up the line of march and came upon 
 the ground where yesterday was enacted the bloody scene. 
 Most of our killed have been taken away, and the wound- 
 ed were carried from the field last night. But the cold, 
 damp remains of the rebels are strewn upon the bloody 
 ground around us. While here and there are wounded 
 ones in whom there still lingers a faint glimmer of life’s 
 light calling for mercy at our hands. It is a bloody, 
 ghastly scene upon which I am looking now, and had I 
 time perhaps I might make it more clear to your mind. 
 We are half a mile from Barkettsville, a lively little town. 
 Yesterday, there was not one loyal man in town. To-day all 
 are devoted to the Union 
 
 Charley sits by my side examining a rebel musket and 
 is perfectly well and happy. I must close by sending my 
 love to all at home. Tell them I will attempt to make 
 myself worthy of their respect. Good Bye, 
 
 Brother Clarke. 
 
 [We received many other letters from Clakke during the Fall and 
 Winter of 1862, which to us were full of /interest ; but as it would be 
 impossible to publish all of them I have omitted some. 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 38 
 
 In the month of February, 18fi?^ we were most gladly surprised hy 
 him, having come homo upon a short leave of absence. He then bore the 
 Commission of 2d Lieutenant. That was a happy week to us and how 
 gladly would we have felt, could he have staid with us longer. He en- 
 joyed it no less than we, hot never did a breath escape his lips which 
 would show' that he harboured the idea of resigning. He seemed cheerful 
 and not at all dissatisfied with the life he led I can remember just how 
 he looked when at length the time came that should separate us forever , 
 (hut we knew it not then). With what cheerful composure, as tearfully 
 we said “Good Bye,” he took us hy the hand, one after another, and with 
 a calm, placid smile upon that open countenance said, “Weep not for me, 
 I shall see you again. God bless you all, Good Bye,” and then he drove 
 swiftly up the road, and just as he was disappearing from our sight he 
 waved his hand in a silent adieu, and that was the last we saw of poor, 
 dear Clarke ; till in the Golden Autumn month they broughthim home, 
 and we buried him where he had always desired to he buried, in the Old 
 Church-yard of his dear native town.] 
 
 The following letter was written shortly after his return to the 
 regiment, after his visit home. It breathes the same spirit of devotion 
 to his country and her cause that he had hitherto shown : 
 
 Camp near Falmouth, Feb. 23, 1863. 
 Dear Parents : 
 
 It is almost with as much joy that I write you 
 this winter evening, as I should enjoy, if I could sit 
 with you in the old family circle, and converse upon life’s 
 varied experiences and unequal prospects. If you can un- 
 derstand the feelings of a young man as he rows his little 
 bark out from the moorings, upon the broad sea of life, 
 and can see the silver, subtle ties that twine around his 
 very heart-chords and, stretching back, seem to chain him 
 as by the golden links of destiny, to the home of his 
 friends and of his sunny childhood ; you can appreciate 
 the hallowed relation which I sustain to that happy cir- 
 cle still — and doing this, you may know what a pleasure 
 it is to me to-night to send my spirit out to commune 
 with you so far away. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RfCE. 
 
 39 
 
 Just a week has passed away since I left you and again 
 went forth upon my mission, to seek an honorable desti- 
 ny,* as have a million others, in the rattling car of war.— 
 I need not assure you that it was with the greatest reluct- 
 ance I bade you my last farewell, for it seemed like snap- 
 ping the finest feelings which string the lyre of the human 
 heart, yet I could but have scorned to stay, even though 
 it had been possible ; for he who does not strike for his 
 country is not worthy a home, and he who will not sac- 
 rifice life’s fleeting pleasures for humanity’s sake, is not 
 worthy a friend. Should 1 give up the battle now. it 
 would be betraying my country in time of greatest peril; 
 it would be but the basest treachery to millions of our 
 land, struggling for a glorious destiny. It was the great 
 moral American question of duty against the question. of 
 inglorious comfort and ephemeral pleasure, and it would 
 have been a reproach to my manhood, a dark reflection 
 upon my friends, had I hesitated for a moment, even in 
 the idle thought of my mind, between such widely differ- 
 ent alternatives. 
 
 Well, nothing of interest transpired on my journey to 
 Washington. Common events made up the transit, and 
 I arrived at the capital about 10 o’clock, Wednesday, and 
 then hastened to do what business I had on my hands. — 
 I went to the camp of the 152d regiment, just back of the 
 capitol, and found the boys all well and in fine spirits. — 
 Hill is Captain, and Quinby 1st Lieut. Jul. Town-, 
 send expects a commission ere long, and Ed., as well as 
 I remained there but a short time, and then we ail came 
 down and went into the council-chambers of the nation 
 to hear the Congress of this new sisterhood of states leg- 
 islate upon the ponderous * questions of the hour — the 
 questions of Nationality, of Justice, of Humanity. 
 
 You may be assured we felt ourselves well repaid for 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 40 
 
 our time as we sat. and heard that august assembly, the 
 representatives ot a great continental State, deliberate 
 upon questions and politics the broadest and the deepest 
 that have ever excited the attention of the great common- 
 wealth of man. Never before did any public body sit in 
 judgment upon cases of such mighty importance, and so 
 many voices divine importune it for righteous decision. 
 Never before did it handle the forces of so sweeping a 
 struggle and guide so many -destinies of man’s common 
 future. As we sat and reflected upon the great issues for 
 which they would be held responsible before the tribunal 
 of earth and of heaven, we could but feel like invoking 
 the genius of Divine 'wisdom, or calling the sages of old 
 from the Senate of the skies, to preside over their solemn 
 counsels, and to direct them in the highest light of a di- 
 vine civilization. Our armies may fight like legions of 
 lions, and gain victories which shall shine like stars in 
 this, dark hour of national affliction, and yet they can 
 -never be the masters of a glorious and permanent success. 
 Victories are but the step stones of national triumph, and 
 our military achievements, however brilliant they may be, 
 are but the prelude to the grand prospective drama of 
 continental Peace. 
 
 Armies are as soulless as the winds of the world, which 
 though they may sweep everything on before them, and 
 sport, with the commerce of men, yet can never direct 
 .their forces to any specific end, — can never look forward 
 to any definite purpose. 
 
 •This is emphatically the great moral struggle of the' 
 century. The common conflict of the world’s polar ideas, 
 which, though it has been raging for fifty years beneath 
 the turf of our civilization, has just burst forth upon the 
 surface to shake the moral creation from pole, to pole. — 
 Its manifest purposes are broad principles of national ju- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 41 
 
 risprudence, which twine around the great heart of hum- 
 anity, and hind up in harmony the varied interests of the 
 world. Thus, to gain these great, noble moral purposes, 
 our hope must not he in the soulless valor of our arms. — 
 For success we must look up to the great council of 
 States, the central mind of the nation. Congress is the 
 brain of our great American genius, and our armed forces 
 are hut the mighty arms with which she is to achieve the 
 grandest revolution the world has ever seen. Thus, in 
 view of all this transcendent responsibility which rests 
 upon their counsels, and the awful destiny which turns 
 upon their decisions, how could we hut teel deeply inter- 
 ested for the few hours we listened to their deliberations? 
 The discussion was had upon the hill for indemnifying 
 the President tor certain so-called arbitrary arrests. The 
 measure, of itself, was void of any positive force, as regards 
 the prosecution of the war ; hut it became the touchstone 
 of public sentiment in that body, and of the common 
 mind Oi the country, as Congress is hut the trumpet 
 through which to the world she speaks her thoughts from 
 the Atlantic to the Pacific seas. It tended to show wheth- 
 er or not the People, the eternal power behind the throne, 
 will stand by the President in his worthy endeavors to 
 crush out the greatest rebellion of modern times, and to 
 stretch the wand of free empire over a dominion — ours by 
 inheritance, and which the Fathers dedicated to Freedom 
 and consecrated by their blood. 
 
 This was the question at issue, and who, a few years 
 ago, could ever have dreamed that in the American Con- 
 gress, the President, the free choice of this great national 
 commonwealth, would be condemned and denounced as an 
 apostate, for executing upon the unholy heads ot traitors 
 the verdict of impartial justice and the penalty of treason ? 
 But alas ! what a change has come over the thoughts of 
 6 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 42 
 
 our legislators ! Into what degenerate hands our noble 
 Government has fallen ! What death-worms have crept 
 into the great American heart, and . re gnawing our life 
 away ! Oh ! why has the spirit divine of our Fathers 
 flown from ns in the perils of this dark hour ; and whith- 
 er, Oh whither, has it gone ? Cataline conspired against 
 the republic of Rome and the senate cast him out from its 
 councils, and he went forth covered with the curses of all 
 honorable men. The sacred genius of Athens implored 
 the gods to consign to perdition all who dared to say 
 aught against the. commonwealth ; hut now, in the noon 
 of the nineteenth century, when our country totters upon 
 the very verge oi ruin, and traitors are holding their hel- 
 lish carnival upon the very sepulchres of our Fathers, 
 these Catalines of hell, sent forth and thrice cursed of 
 heaven, dare to stand up in the Congress of- this great 
 model republic and, pointing the icy finger of scorn at 
 the weeping 'ghosts of two hundred and sixty thousand 
 martyrs, hurl defiance at the supreme authorities, and 
 threaten resistance against the policy of the land ! Oh'! 
 Treason, where are thy boundaries ! Oh ! traitors, when 
 shall you meet your doom ? 
 
 How can an avenging Justice spare these modern trait- 
 ors who, not content with betraying their country, would 
 sacrifice its friends, that they might become truly the 
 cringing spaniels of rebels ? Is he too good to die a fel- 
 on’s death who would hold hack the arm of the Govern- 
 ment, as it is up-raised to hurl the hell-hounds of Slavery 
 from off the neck of our country ? Is he better than an 
 open foe, who, when the enemies hang like hungry blood- 
 hounds on our heels, under the cloak of pretended patri- 
 otism walks among us preaching peace, and, with false 
 hands thrusts a whetted dagger at our hearts? You ail 
 cry, “ No, no ! ” Then why have mercy on them ? — 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 43 
 
 Why not hurl them from the Tarpeian rock, their mem- 
 ories covered with the curses of an indignant people, ? — 
 These are the peace mongers who prowl to-day, with 
 lordly air through our legislative halls, and like so many 
 vultures whose talons drip with the life-blood of our count- 
 ry, tor a moment, would charm to earth the angel ot peace 
 — damnable hypocrites that tlxy are. Why tolerate them 
 in our high places ?, ! say. They, feigning horror at a 
 drop of blood, pretend to faint at the sight ot a soldier 
 slain, while invoking a truce for an hour that peace may 
 be forever sacrificed, and the god of eternal war reign su- 
 preme. Such are the men who counsel peacp when peace 
 is impossible — peace that our enemies may destroy us. — 
 Such are the men who weep over the dead ashes of fallen 
 despotism, and without blanched cheek curse the Govern- 
 ment and the men who dare give protection to the genius 
 of Liberty. 
 
 I heard Vallandigham, Voorhees, of Indiana, May, of 
 Maryland. The whole drift of their argument was that 
 the loyalty of the State proved the innocence oi the citi- 
 zen, however deep lie' may he in sympathy with the rebel- 
 lion, however deep-stain -d lie may he with the vilest trea- 
 son, however foul nr y be his lips with harsh-sounding de- 
 nunciation of the Government and the policy of the Ad- 
 ministration. 
 
 Of course they did not admit this, hut their arguments 
 would cover it all. They besought the powers to stay the 
 tide of war. Why should the North how down he) 1 head and 
 cease her hostilities PThat Slavery might gain anew guar- 
 antee for its unnatural existence ? With bitter words 
 they protested against the jiolicy of emancipation, as a 
 measure that would undermine the Democratic party, 
 founded upon the ignorance and despotism of fifty years, 
 for where Liberty finds a foothold, that hoary-headed, de- 
 
44 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 credit party can never enter. 
 
 Thus, in their wild harangues their devotion to Dem- 
 ocracy outstripped their patriotism. They denounced 
 freedom and an honorable war, and hailed slavery and in- 
 glorious peace. Such men are our deadliest foes, more to 
 be dreaded than the minions of the South, and were jus- 
 tice done them, they would swing as high as Hainan, as 
 sorry examples of degenerate Americanism. Did we not 
 believe that the God of destiny presided with an eternal 
 vigilance over this terrible conflict, we sometimes should 
 feel like despairing of success, when we notice how the 
 North is divided in purpose, when we see how many there 
 are who are offering the hand of sympathy to the South, 
 and are zealously at work in placing brakes upon the car 
 of war. Let it be borne in mind that, if the Admin- 
 istration fails in itp worthy effort to snatch the Republic 
 from the awful fate of disunion, the ruin of our country 
 will be charged against the lives of these degenerate 
 children of the North, and wherever they may wander 
 over this land, rent asunder, the sorrowing spirits of two 
 hundred thousand slain will rise up and appear against 
 them, to witness that they were the authors of their un- 
 holy sacrifice. And why? for the contingency - of fail- 
 ure hangs only upon their betraying the cause of the na- 
 tion and liberty. 
 
 No one can doubt that the North, if united, can reduce 
 the rebellious South to subjugation, and woe, and entire 
 desolation. The South know this as well as we do, and 
 their hope, their only hope, (and alas, how well founded 
 is that hope,) is in the ominous signs of Northern sym- 
 pathy, — of Northern dissensions. Let the North present 
 an unbroken front against those wayward and rebellious 
 sisters, and did they not bow down upon their knees, and 
 with up-lilt jd Hands beseech forgiveness for their terrible 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 45 
 
 wickedness, we could sweep down the dungeon walls of 
 their despotism, and drive their lost and degenerate armies 
 into the Gulf. 0, that we had the disinterested pa- 
 triotism of our fathers ! 0, that we were as united and 
 
 devoted to the cause of liberty and the Union as are the 
 rebels fit the South to slavery, and the dark scheme of our 
 country’s overthrow! But there were tones in the Revo- 
 lution, that great struggle of a people against despotic 
 power, and how could we hope to carry on this holy cru- 
 sade for national freedom and northern rights, without 
 having traitors in our midst. 
 
 As we go hack and follow the pathway of history down 
 through the night of ages, we find that the ranks of everv 
 generation have been crowded with tories who have exer- 
 cised every power to resist all great reformations, and to" 
 retard the progress of the world. But light and civiliza- 
 tion have prevailed over all these oppositions, and swept 
 on till the tide touches the high water mark of the nine- 
 teenth century. 
 
 These conservatives or traitors of the generation might 
 as well try to dam Niagara’s awful plunge with a rope of 
 straw, as to bind the moral forces of creation with their 
 compromises. God presides in history, and His events 
 must constitute the current of the world. I believe He 
 presides over the struggle of to-day, and as Justice 
 and Liberty are on our side, He will espouse our cause 
 and crown it with these most glorious triumphs of the cen- 
 tury. Then let us live in hope ; let us lift up our eyes 
 from the dark scene of the present to the bright promise 
 of coming events ; for as surely as the day follows the 
 night, so surely will a glorious Peace, blessed with free- 
 dom, follow this dark hour of sacrifice and war. 
 
 Well, now, I am ashamed of myself, for here I have 
 been writing a lot of trash, and have only got to Wash- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 46 
 
 inton yet ; but I must not linger longer. I found Capt. 
 Arnold in the city, and Thursday morning we started 
 for the tented held. We arrived in camp just as the sun 
 was sinking behind the hills. But I was somewhat, tired 
 I assure you, for we tried to outdo each other in the 
 march from Falmouth ; the walking was awtul. 
 
 I lound the boys all well and in usual good spirits, — 
 not demoralized, as the false rumors of the North would 
 have it. The regiment had been paid, and the most live- 
 ly enthusiasm prevailed through the tented city. Never 
 more I believe, were the soldiers determined to play well 
 their part in this great national drama of blood. Only 
 give the army auspicious sun and dry roads, and it will 
 strike a blow whose sound will reverberate round the 
 world. 
 
 The people up there must exercise a little patience, for 
 it is utterly impossible to move on the Rappahannock 
 now. Hooker has not had one of the fifty chance's 
 which McClellan had, for whom the many deluded ones 
 have so much charity. It is announced .that this army 
 is going to be broken up and sent to the South-west "and 
 South Carolina. I wish they would send us there or some 
 where we can commence immediate operations ; the 
 authorities being too imbecile for the true spirit of war. 
 Bright signs begin to appear : the Herald and World 
 have just been interdicted a circulation in the army. — 
 Hail, 0, spirit of war ! strike death to treason where- 
 ever you find it; hush every voice that whispers dissen- 
 sions. , 
 
 I did not have very good luck with my trunk ; I got it 
 checked at Little Falls to New York, but when I got 
 there it had not come on. I could not wait, but I still 
 hold the check. They told me that they would forward 
 it on to me, but I have but little hope, as they had or- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 47 
 
 ' ders at Washington from head quarters of the army not 
 . to send on any mare private boxes. As for myself, I 
 could get along very well without it, but I feel sorry on 
 account of the good folks who sent things by me to dear 
 friends in the army. I wish you would see them and ex- 
 plain, — I certainly could not help it, without running 
 over my leave of absence, which would be serious a offence 
 indeed. 
 
 I have had command of the company since my return, 
 and have been out on picket through one of hardest storms 
 I ever knew. It snowed a foot one night, and we had no- 
 thing to shelter us but little bough houses ; but we lived, 
 and are as well as ever in the world, — can you believe it ? 
 We were on picket on Washington’s old farm, where he 
 married his wife. When I write again I will describe it. 
 Now it is very late, and I must close. Remember me to 
 all the good people of my old native town. Tell Charley 
 I will write him soon, and he must write to me. Give 
 my love to all the folks, and to the children. 
 
 Good night, 
 
 Clarke. 
 
48 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 The following- letter was written about the same time as the previous 
 one, to a Sister who was away from home in the Western States, during 
 his visit : 
 
 Camp near Falmouth, Feb. 29, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Sister : 
 
 I suppose that you have heard, ere this, of rny brief, 
 yet most happy visit home. It was as unexpected to 
 myself as it proved interesting and joyful. 
 
 I shall ever remember those ten golden days as among 
 the most sunny seasons of my life. Though my stay was 
 so very short, as regards the measure of time, it was very 
 long reckoned by the standard of enjoyment. It seemed 
 to bring back to life and light the old dead home-scenes 
 of the by-gone ; it seemed to gather up from the public 
 streets of the world all the noble forms of friends long ab- 
 sent. The tide of life. for those hours seemed to flow 
 back ; and as it were with swift feet we tread the wind- 
 ings of the past again, thus filling them with the echoes 
 of our former existence. 
 
 But now, as I look back upon those happy hours from 
 the stern realities of the tented field, it seems like a pass- 
 ing dream, filled with airy phantoms, which came and 
 went like shadows on a wall. Though we hung in a de- 
 lusion, slept in a trance, and saw bright ideals, living 
 in fancy’s vision, the sight of my old home, the hearty 
 welcomes of Father and Mother, the warm, outstretched 
 hands of neighboring friends, and the kind whisperings 
 of an overruling Destiny, were genuine pleasures, which 
 can never be forgotten, and well repaid me for all the cost 
 of time and journey. I felt sad that I could not see you, 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 49 
 
 as I remembered how uncertain is the future, how fickle 
 are the chances on which turns the lot of human destiny. 
 
 One day the Col. informed me that if I would make 
 application, he would procure for me a leave of absence. 
 I did so, and it was approved. So I went to "Washing- 
 ton, purchased my uniform, and with heart overflowing 
 with hopeful anticipations, started for the home we love 
 so well. 
 
 I suppose you have learned how I surprised our 
 people. For a moment they seemed to doubt their own 
 senses. A soldier seemed to be quite a curiosity in the 
 little quiet village, consequently I did not lack attention. 
 I saw all the good citizens and to each had to ti ll the 
 same war-tales, so old and senseless to me, but new aud 
 apparently interesting to them. 
 
 Never before did my feelings twine so warm an affec- 
 tion around that good old town, for the more I wander 
 abroad through this wide, selfish world, and become ac- 
 quainted with society and communities, the more and 
 deeper I sound the great depth of public life, and see the 
 cold-hearted ambition and jealousies of human nature ; 
 the more do I see to admire and cherish in that humble 
 village and her quiet people. Hail! village of our child- 
 hood’s home and joys — of our early hopes and sports ! 
 All praise to the kind guardian of our life, now so happily 
 spent ; and may the future never bring shame upon thy 
 head, or sorrow upon thy generous heart. 
 
 Father and Mother are enjoying most excellent health 
 for persons in whoselives “old Time” has woven so many 
 care-worn years ; and their spirits, not yet void of hope, 
 seemed to rejoice in the pleasures of the present and the 
 memories of the past. Oh ! what a blessing it must, be 
 to people to staud upon the farther borders of sixty years 
 and, looking back in retrospect, see a golden harvest 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 50 
 
 waving in the breeze, from the seed that they had scattered 
 in their pilgrimage of life ? They have painted with skill- 
 ful fingers, a bright and cheering picture upon the can- 
 vas Destiny has given them. And why should they not 
 delight to look upon it now, as hope, the light of life, 
 grows dim, and they are about to rest from their labors, 
 even underneath the thickening shadows of the tomb ? 
 I do not mean to say that they will not live to bless and 
 guide us by the wisdom of their counsels for many years, 
 for I am confident they will. But it seems to me that 
 after we have passed the meridian of life, the world loses 
 its allurements ; bright prospects shoot away like falling 
 stars ; and our existence becomes darkness by the fast 
 creeping shades of evening. Alas, how true it is, that we 
 are so selfish and ungrateful, as never to appreciate the 
 disinterested kindness of our parents, nor recognise their 
 exhaustless charity toward us in our waywardness until 
 we have passed from under the roof of their j>rotection, 
 and wandered through some of life’s pelting storms, when 
 the world’s iron doors are firmly bolted. I always thought 
 we had a good and noble home ; but not till I had left 
 it did I learn that to me it was the pleasantest spot in all 
 the world ; not till I had bade farewell to Father and 
 Mother, Sisters and Brothers, did I realize that they were 
 the truest in affection and devotion of all the people of 
 the earth. I do not want you to think me homesick nor 
 disheartened, for I assure you, I have not felt a reluctant 
 feeling nor seen a sorry hour since I enlisted. 
 
 I remained at home only five days, and then again set 
 out upon my mission to the tented field. On my return 
 I loitered a happy day in Washington, during which I 
 visited the quarters of the 152d, and going into the coun- 
 cil chambers of the nation, heard our Legislators in fiery 
 debate upon the mighty questions of the day. The 152d 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 51 
 
 is now doing provost duty in the city, and their camp 
 honored by fortune, crowns on the Capitolian Hill. Their 
 mission has been bright and their duties easy thus far in 
 this sad hour of national peril ; yet, unclouded as has 
 been their day and as unruffled as has been the sea of their 
 military life, I would not, -were it possible, exchange 
 our stormy career for their soldier’s experience, nor our 
 rising prospects for their tleeting hopes. What we have 
 seen in our pilgrimage has flung a sunshine around all 
 our trouble. What we have done has glorified all our 
 hardships, and what w r e have learned has banished ail 
 sad remembrances. The hope of a glorious record is the 
 light of our mission. The realization of a hopeful future 
 shall be the reward of a true soldier’s deed, and the kind 
 benedictions of a grateful people shall ever recommend 
 him both to human and divine favor. Where, then, can 
 be the light of a soldier if he shall always work behind 
 the screen ? What shall be his title to public recogni- 
 tion if he has never suffered for his country and the public 
 weal ? If I live through this awful strife, if I ever again 
 stand upon the high and dry shorts of an honorable na- 
 tional peace, 1 desire that I can 'remember that in doing 
 my duty, I had sounded th*e lowest depths of human peril , 
 and if I fall , if it is destined that I shall pass away upon 
 the swift tide of blood,, I desire that I can leave a monu- 
 ment behind me around ivhich the 'poor angels of my life 
 may ever hover and on ivhich my memory may 'rest secure 
 from the dark ivaters of utter forgetfulness. 
 
 This is not egotism, is it ? Certainly I do not write 
 it in any such mean spirit. It is only a laudable ambi- 
 tion with which I would inspire every American Soldier ; 
 a life which should charge the mind of every child of 
 God. 
 
 I found all the boys from F airfield well and in the most 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 52 
 
 cheerful spirits. The}' all seem proud that they are sold- 
 iers in so noble a cause. How well does this speak for 
 their patriotism ! How clearly does it show that they 
 are truly devoted to their country ! There are so many 
 in the service who have no good motive, who throw no 
 soul into their endeavors, and who are ever mourning over 
 their unhappy lot, that it seems encouraging to converse 
 with those who are struggling through the bloody stream 
 by the light of an idea, and with the unconquerable zeal 
 of a true patriot. 
 
 Since coming back to camp I have had command of the 
 company. The Col. has given me encouragement that 
 before long I shall receive a still better position. This is 
 for you al#ne, and of course the world need not know. 
 But I must conless that I feel well about my promotion, 
 for 1 can sincerely say that the idea of an office never 
 stretched across my mind when I enlisted. 1 feel that I 
 have gained it only by trying to do my duty as a soldier. 
 
 Fred. Ford will have a commission before long, and 
 Ward Bice will be made Oulerly. They are both good 
 and brave soldiers and well worthy of promotion. 
 
 I never despair as to the resTilt of the war. I believe 
 that we can lay the tottering fabric of the Confederacy in 
 the dust and make the traitors ask forgiveness lor their 
 sins, and by the grace of an auspicious Providence we will 
 do it. But I must draw this to a close. You must write 
 to me very often. With a thousand thanks for your 
 sisterly kindness, farewell, farewell. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 53 
 
 52P : * The following letter was written to Brother Daniel Rice, at that 
 time in California : 
 
 (J amp near Fredericksburg, March 10, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Brother : 
 
 You can never imagine how happily surprised I was on 
 receiving your very interesting and most welcome letter. 
 I was somewhat astonished ; because, not having heard 
 any kindly voices sounding over the continent from the 
 “golden shores of the Pacific” in so long a time, I had 
 almost reasoned myself into the belief that distance at 
 last, had broken the silver ties of fraternal affection, and 
 that Old Time, weaving with its thousand shuttles 
 the mantle of forgetfulness, had veiled me from your 
 worthy vision. 
 
 1 was rejoiced, as through the solemn stillness of this 
 aching void, I heard a lost brother speak ; because, again, I 
 saw your noble form arise out of the darkness of the hour 
 and appear to me as a true brother and friend. At any 
 time and at any place, a letter from you would have filled 
 my soul with gladness ; but with ten-fold joy and pride 
 did I grasp that glowing signal of your remembrance, 
 among strangers down here in the pines and the low 
 lands of Virginia. I hailed it as a sun beam struggling 
 through the darkness of the night, as a voice breaking 
 forth from beyond the sea, and sounding over the troubled 
 elements of our national deep to whisper hope and conso- 
 lation into the ears of our country’s surge-tossed mariners. 
 
 You will never know how often, long and deeply I have 
 meditated upon you and the many happy hours we have 
 whiled away together. The ^moment has never passed 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 54 
 
 over my head since you left me upon that beautiful prairie 
 in the west, that did not bring to my mind some picture- 
 scene of our childhood’s life, and kindle in my heart a 
 bright hope that your future may be as full of happiness 
 as your past as been of kindness and charity. I think of 
 you and George, off there alone so far away, among 
 strangers, without brother or sister to rejoice with you 
 in your success, to sympathize with you in your trials 
 and misfortunes, and then a shadow of sadness creeps 
 over my soul, and a burning desire springs up that before 
 many yeais float away, our lots may run together again 
 and we be companions in the same destiny. 
 
 Well do I remember the bright spring morning, when 
 the birds were rejoicing over their happy return to our 
 northern climes, as we all bade George Good Bye, and 
 with solemn thought invoked a blessing upon his Cali- 
 fornia mission ; and as well as though it were but yesterday 
 do 1 ri member the morning that you left us in our west- 
 ern home and went forth to try your fortune in a distant 
 land. Feelings of sadness and gladness flooded my mind, 
 as with oui' good sister 1 watched you go forth from our 
 little humble home, and at last fade from our reluctant sight 
 in the thick woods far over beyond the prairie. 
 
 I felt sad to see you leave us, to be absent, perhaps for 
 a long time, — you with whom I had sported in the sunniest 
 days of our lives, those days of innocence, joy and hope, 
 you from whose liberal hands I had received so many 
 deeds of kindness, and around whom the busy angel for 
 years had twined the golden relations of a brother with 
 the best affections of my nature. I felt glad because 
 I saw you starting upon a mission which hope illumined 
 as with the brightest light of life ; because I knew that 
 you were going forth to join George, so far away, alone, , 
 and among strangers. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RfCE. 
 
 55 
 
 The dark tide of years has flowed away since then, 
 burdened with its ten million changes, its sorrows and 
 cheers, its hopes and fears ; and as it has swept onward 
 in its steady course it has brought us many blessings and, 
 alas ! how sad to remember ! borne a sister to the tomb. 
 
 Thus the roaring loom of time never ceases to run on 
 and its ten thousand mystic shuttles are ever weaving 
 threads of sadness and gladness in the web of human life. 
 
 Ot course you have not heard of m.y hasty but most 
 pleasant visit home. Never did ten happier days fall in 
 any man’s life-march from the cradle to the tomb. I found 
 Old Fairfield slumbering quietly in the deep silent em- 
 brace of the night ; for the old chapel clock tolled the 
 solemn hour of midnight -as I rode down into the familiar 
 town. Nor did I break its slumber ; but putting out 
 my horse, went quietly to bed. I happened to get into 
 the same bed with Charley, and had just covered up 
 nicely when he woke up. He, of course, was somewhat 
 wonder-struck, and for a moment did not speak. But I 
 was soon forced to laugh, by which he soon made the 
 acquaintance of his nocturnal visitor. We talked until 
 most morning, and then sleeping till breakfast time went 
 down stairs together. Can you imagine how astonished 
 Father and Mother were to see me ? 1 found them both 
 
 very well and in fine spirits. But, alas ! the silent years 
 are sprinkling grey hairs thick and fast upon their devot- 
 ed heads, and furrowing deep their traces upon their no- 
 ble brows. Yet it was pleasant to notice that the lamp 
 of life yet .burns bright, and sheds divine light through 
 the dim recesses of their okl age. They can lean long and 
 confidently upon the staff ot memory. They have no 
 dark deeds to weaken the tlpeads of their declining lite. 
 Thus may they live the time that destiny has allotted 
 for the mortal career of man. 
 
56 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 You cannot appreciate the profound sympathy which 
 pulsates through their warm and generous hearts for you 
 and George. Nothing wears so deeply upon their souls 
 as the thought that you are so far separated from them ; 
 and that you may he sick and want lor the tender care of 
 friends. 
 
 I do not think you could have been sincere when you 
 wrote me that you. thought I had not acted for the best 
 in enlisting. Gladly would I have sought advice had it 
 been practicable to hear from you before it was necessary 
 for me to act. I never thought of enlisting until the 
 President issued his call for three hundred thousand more 
 volunteers. And then, young -and healthy as I was, I 
 could not stand back from the broad tide of patriotic life 
 which swept down from the northern hills and the west- 
 ern plains, and see our country totter and cry for help like 
 a forlorn girl in a storm. No ; that cry appealed to my 
 love of country, and obeying the best impulses of my be- 
 ing, trusting to the ministering angels of life, and follow- 
 ing the glowing examples of our brother-soldiers, who had 
 gone forth before us, we buckled on the armour of honor- 
 able warfare, and came forth upon the tented field to do 
 and to suffer for our bleeding country. 
 
 Really, I regard it as a glorious mission ; and if we 
 shall but snatch the fair haired Genius of America from 
 the awful doom which these ungodly conspirators had 
 planned for her, then we shall feel well paid for all our 
 hardships, well rewarded for all our devotion. / Of course 
 T regret that the terrible calamity of war has befallen us ; 
 but now that we are involved in its woes, let us strive for 
 a glorious redemption. Perhaps I have more hope in this 
 contest than you. All clouds have their silver lining ; 
 all nights their hidden stars. 
 
LTEUT ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 57 
 
 I believe, before many months shall roll away, the black 
 shaggy war clouds will break away, and the full sunlight 
 of Peace rush upon our land, regenerated, united and free. 
 
 The only question that ever made me hesitate about 
 enlisting, was a reluctance to depart from a course already 
 marked out, and to lay aside, even for a while, the cherish- 
 ed plans, lor the future. But if I live through this con- 
 test as I confidently expect, I shall re-enter with greater 
 zeal the chosen course of life with a better title to success 
 and popular favor. 
 
 You know that when we came out, I was a private ; 
 but now I am happy to be able to announce, am a Lieu- 
 tenant. If I live and have my health, I am in hopes of 
 getting up higher. I do not write this to boast but sim- 
 ply to let you know that I am doing well and am satisfied 
 with my position. 
 
 I received your picture with a great deal of gladness. 
 Y r ou have changed wonderfully, I think for the better. I 
 would not have known you, but taken you for some “emi- 
 nent- divine,” little for my brother, that bade us farewell, 
 that beautiful Spring -morning, away upon tlm prairies of 
 the west. I have a picture oi George also, a id shall ever 
 keep them by me in all the clouds and sui shine of life. 
 Now, dear brother, I must close. Give my tenderest 
 affections to George. - I hope he has received my last 
 letter. Now, as the watches of the night grow sleepy, 
 and the cold rain patters upon our “little tented home,” 
 with a thousand thanks for your brotherly and enduring 
 kindness, I will say farewell, farewell. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
58 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 Camp near Falmouth, April 19th, 1SG3. 
 
 Mr Dear Brother Charley : 
 
 It is Sunday again, the nineteenth of April, — that il- 
 lustrious day of American history, — that glorious morn- 
 ing of the great Revolution, — the memorial birth-day of 
 our common nationality. The 19th of April, immortal 
 in the proud fame of Lexington, — thrice glorifitd by the 
 sacrifice of New England's bravest sons ! Sublime, historic 
 day. The morning star of two great Revolutions, how can 
 we forget thee P Thy first beams light up the broad 
 swell of eighty years national progress, and with a thous- 
 and greetings will the American people ever welcome thy 
 annual coming. 
 
 You cannot imagine what a beautiful daj^ it is down 
 here, how the sunshine mantles all ! How the earth 
 strives to look green amid the scorched desolation of war ; 
 how the rippling streams gaily laugh, while the war 
 gods mutter hoarsely ; how the little birds, earth’s sweet- 
 est ministrelsy, flitting around, sing sweetly ; and how 
 softly the mystic angels of the air sweep the wind harp of 
 iEolus. It is like a Mayday at home, so blooming, so 
 full of budding life, so fragrant and bracing. 
 
 I am officer of the guard again to-day, — I think this 
 was the case when I wrote you last. You need not think 
 I have been ever since, nor wonder if this Inter is greatly 
 disconnected, — for I have been already obliged to “turn out 
 the guard, ”a half dozen times. Yesterday our Division was 
 reviewed by Gens. Hooker, Sedgwick, and that Swiss gen- 
 eral — I do not remember his name. 
 
 Thus you see cur commander extends bis searching ob- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 59 
 
 serration to every part of the great army under his ai> 
 thority. Sometimes he takes occasion to visit different 
 portions of his command, alone aud in disguise, thus en- 
 abling him to see the common workings of the smallest 
 wheels in the stupendous machinery of the army of which 
 he is the master-spirit. 
 
 I assure you that he fills a higher place in the hearts of 
 the soldiers than ever McClellan did. They have un- 
 bounded confidence in his ability, a profound assurance 
 of his devotion to Liberty and the country, and a com- 
 mon conviction that, when he moves, he will hurl upon 
 the Confederacy the crushing power of an avalanche, thus 
 ensuring a speedy suppression of the rebellion. 
 
 There is something positive in Gen. Hooker — a will un- 
 conquerable, an energy so vigorous, a purpose so exalted, 
 and a heart so full of devotion, that it seems lie possesses all 
 the most essential qualities of a successful General. A 
 man to be a successful leader in this great continental 
 strife, must know how to organize a campaign, how to 
 guide a great army, and must have daring enough to 
 stake his all upon the issue. Undoubtedly McClellan 
 could organize an airny and plan a campaign as well as 
 any man on the continent ; but he had not that spirit of 
 sacrifice, not that assurance and confidence, not that deep 
 devotion, not that irresistable determination, not that 
 lion bravery unchained by fear, that would inspire him to 
 bend over the opening grave to snatch a victory that would 
 make his life immortal. Decisive battles are always the 
 cheapest. To gain conclusive results a great deal must 
 be risked. Had Pizarro been like McClellan, upon that 
 island of the sea, he would have bowed down and given 
 up in despair. HadNapolean been like McClellan, at the 
 bridge of Lodi, he would have turned away in fear. Had 
 Hannibal been like McClellan, the rugged Alps would 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 60 
 
 have frowned him down, Italy been unconquered and 
 the wrongs of Carthage unavenged. Had Alexander been 
 like McClellan, he would never have crossed the Granni- 
 cus, and all south Asia would have boasted itself unsub- 
 dued by the “ War God” of Macedon. Cyrus turned the 
 Euphrates and reduced Babylon the imperial city of the 
 age. Belshazzar came down from his throne and bending 
 upon his knees asked for mercy like a helpless child. Mc- 
 Clellan came to the very portals of Richmond, and not 
 daiing to enter the unholy city, at last skulked away. 
 
 f believe that Hooker will never write such a record, 
 that he will never sit supinely down and permit such 
 golden opportunities to e vade his giasp, that he never will 
 lead his brave army through the Red St-a and the Wild- 
 erness to the very entrances of the promised land, and 
 then, as if undone by tile glory of his success, turn back 
 upon bis career and tear down the monuments of his 
 country’s hopes and of his country’s progress. McClellan 
 did all this and what a retribution has fallen upon him ! 
 
 It may be possible that my confidence and hopes in 
 Gen. Hooker are unwarrantable. If so, I shall learn it but 
 too soon, and shall feel almost like despairing for our coun- 
 try and her free institutions. It is time for the great 
 hero and genius of this struggle to appear. All great his- 
 toric storms in the world have borne up to public light the 
 men destined by Heaven to lend the people through the 
 Red Sea of war and place them triumphantly in the 
 Promised Land of peace. The great Revolution of Eng- 
 land, brought an Oliver Cromwell up to light. Napoleon 
 leaped Phcemx-like I r< m the fieiy strife of the French 
 Revolu ion, and upon the waves of that awful struggle 
 was surged up to the highest eminence of military glory 
 a al power. The San. lPmingo insurrection which harms 
 up uke a midnight lire in the daik periods of the world’s 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 61 
 
 history, revealed the great proportions of Toussaint 
 L’Ouverture, the great nobleman of Afric’s children, the 
 man who, by the God-like majesty of his being, put to 
 shame the wicked white oppressors of his race, who in 
 peace possessed all the mildness of a woman, and in war 
 manifested all the crushing power of an avenging Deity. 
 The Revolution of our fathers had its Washington. Then 
 why may we not predict for Gen. Hooker the sublime 
 mission of these few heroes of the world ? 
 
 All the boys of our acquaintance are well and proud ot 
 the part they are playing in this glorious drama. 
 
 Well, Charley, lmw is the school prospering ? You 
 have good advantages. Improve them and you will never 
 regret it. I would like to be able to be with you at An- 
 niversary. But I hope that 1 shall be enabled to speak 
 for my country, in deeds,' from the stage of war as I can- 
 not be home to speak by word. 
 
 I must close. Remember me kindly to all the neigh- 
 bors. Give my love to all at home, and write often. 
 With a thousand well-wishes for your welfare, I sav 
 Good Bye. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
62 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 %'i^T The following letter was written just after the terrific battle at 
 Chancellorsville, in which the 121st passed through its most fiery ordeal 
 and acquitted itself nobly, although many of the brave men, endeared to 
 us by a hundred ties went down to their eternal rest. 
 
 When we received this letter, giving an account of their sufferings and 
 losses, when we knew how many of his comrades had fallen beneath the 
 awful storm and that he was safe and unharmed, we felt as though his 
 danger had passed and that we should welcome him home again, alive 
 and well as when we had bade him Good Bye, upon that cold February 
 morning, but a short time before. 
 
 But God m his good dispensation had willed that he should not fall 
 upon the field of carnage, amid the roar of cannon and the ratt e of 
 musketry, but in the quiet of Government Hospital. We bowed our 
 heads in teats but with submissson to the blow. 
 
 The letter gives a lengthy aud to us an interesting account of that 
 avviul and fatal conflict But amid all the despair and g oom, that it 
 cast upon that country, he dots not utter a word that would go to show 
 less confidence in U'n. Docker. 
 
 Banks’ Ford, May 6th, 1863. 
 
 My Dear. Parents : 
 
 SSome time has elapsed since I last wrote you ; but I 
 assure you there have been many causes tor my apparent 
 neglect. In the last week we have passed through the 
 most eventful history, the most fiery experience of modern 
 warfare. 1 think you will assent to this, when you learn 
 the details of our doings, of our gains and losses, and of 
 our baptism in the bloody stream. 
 
 A week ago yesterday (Tuesday) our regiment broke 
 up camp and having marched three or four miles, encamp- 
 ed at evening on the high bluffs overlooking the river just 
 below Fredericksburg. No fires were permitted to he 
 made ; no noise, no movements were allowed ; nothing 
 that would fore-shadow to the enemy the awful cloud 
 that was gathering over their heads. All the thunder 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 63 
 
 and lightning of an avenging army were wrapped up in 
 the thin silken shroud of mystery. 
 
 About nine o’clock the Col. informed us that they were 
 to cross the river at eleven. Russel’s brigade was to cross 
 first, and we next, with forty-five men in a boat, and thus 
 get enough on the other side to drive the pickets from 
 their defences, and then to protect the laying of the pon- 
 toons on which other divisions could cross to our assist- 
 ance. 
 
 At 12 o’clock we were aroused, and the regiment divid- 
 ed into sub-divisions of forty-five men, so that no confu- 
 sion would occur when we reached the hanks of the river. 
 I had charge of a division composed of all the cooks, musi- 
 cians, pioniers, and stragglers of the regiment, a motley 
 crew I assure you, and it kept all my wits at work to 
 bring them under that state of control so essential to the 
 carrying out of the plan. We moved down upon the 
 plain, hut as usual the boats were not yet in leadiness. 
 They had just commenced to draw them down, and they 
 made so much noise, it seemed almost certain that the 
 whole plan would he discovered to the listening ears of 
 the watchman upon the other side. 
 
 After three anxious, weary hours had passed, the boats 
 were dropped into the water and the crossing commenced. 
 The grey morning was just breaking forth upon the Rap- 
 pahannock, as the first boat, full of proud, heroic spirits, 
 rowed out into the stream and silently pushed up to the 
 other side. Strange to say, the enemy’s sentinels did not 
 hear, nor see them until the boat touched the banks. 
 Just as soon as they discovered it, they sent two or three, 
 volleys over in our midst, but without any serious effect. 
 This was our first occasion under musketry lire, and at 
 first startled us a little, but after the first, thought, all 
 dread and fear passed away, and as we moved out upon 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 64 
 
 the river it seemed to me the proudest moment of my life. 
 Thus the crossing was effected, and soon after the pon- 
 toons were laid. Only two men on our side were killed 
 in the operation. Soon after, our company (D) was de- 
 ployed out as skirmishers, and as we moved out cautious- 
 ly upon the plain and through the thick grey mist that 
 hung; around the morning, the bullets were not few that 
 whistled by us, above us, and around us ; hut we went 
 uninjured and as safely as though the broad wings ol a 
 kind Providence hovered over us. As we advanced, their 
 skirmishers retreated, and we followed up until we could 
 see the Rebels swarming by Battalions from the distant 
 semicircular woods that skirted the plain upon which we 
 lay. We dared not advance any farther, lest we should 
 draw on a general engagement, which would be certain 
 destruction to us, our force across the river being so small. 
 Our mission then, as I understand it, was only to hold 
 our position with the view of attracting the attention of 
 the enemy from movements Gen Hooker, with the main 
 army, was making farther up the river. 
 
 We remained out as skirmishers all day, and were but 
 a few hundred yards from the enemy, who were in consid- 
 erable force behind the embankment along the Richmond 
 road. They did not trouble us much with their firing 
 after we ceased advancing ; except nowand then a sharp- 
 shooter would try his most creditable skill upon the life 
 of some brave patriot soldier. At evening we were reliev- 
 ed as skirmishers, but kept under arms. Wednesday 
 came and passed away with about the same scenes, events 
 and results — Thursday and Friday also. We were under 
 arms all the time, and often subject to the most sweeping 
 artillery fire from the enemy, in their strongholds on the 
 height. Saturday the rebel skirmishers dared to advance 
 on us ; but Gen. Brooks threw forward a strong line ol 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 65 
 
 battle, which repulsed them ; and advancing took posses- 
 sion of a deep, narrow ravine, halfway across the plain, 
 running parallel with river and the hills. They resisted 
 desperately for a few moments, hut could not stand ihe 
 pressure of our deep embattled ranks, and falling hack in 
 confusion to their defences, were compelled to leave a few 
 prisoners as the prize of our day’s work. 
 
 Sunday morning dawned ; and Oh ! how full were its 
 day light hours, with pain, and tears, and blood, and death ! 
 Quite early we commenced to advance toward the hill with 
 every assurance of safety and success ; for we were led to 
 believe that they had evacuated their position during the 
 night. How sadly were we mistaken P We had not ad- 
 vanced far before they began to shell us upon every side. 
 The earth trembled with the vibrations of the cannonad- 
 ing, and the heavens resounded as with a hundred peals 
 of thunder. The smoke spread around the whole country 
 like an enveloping mist, and every current of air, scented 
 with burning powder, seemed to strike the nostrils like the 
 hot breath of the nether world. Still we moved on. For 
 a time we stood in line of battle to support one of our 
 Batteries. Then we were marched forward and comn a ul- 
 ed to lie down in a little hollow and be in readiness to 
 charge on one of their Batteries at any moment. What 
 a place that was ? They could fire on us from three dif- 
 ferent directions, and we had no means of protecting or 
 helping ourselves. There we had to remain, with nothing 
 to occupy our minds except the wild monitions of danger ; 
 nothing to greet our eyes but those frowning batteries ; 
 nothing to sound upon our ears, but the thunder of that 
 artillery and the shrill cheers of our enthusiastic foe, 
 which to us sounded like the confused voices of rejoicing 
 fiends. You know that all sense of danger passes away 
 when we are enabled to help ourselves ; „.nd where the 
 9 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 66 
 
 chances of the battle turn upon our heads, then every- 
 thing is swallowed up in an overflowing enthusiasm, and 
 every circumstance seems tinged as wish golden sunshine. 
 We could sit there and see those batteries pointed at us ; 
 seethe smoke puffing up, and then for some seconds, 
 which seemed like minutes, feel that they must deliver 
 their iron charges, the missiles of death, somewhere near 
 us. 
 
 As was natural, we felt a lit tle anxious. I did not feel 
 afraid ; for it seemed to me as certain as anything in the 
 hook of fate, that I would not be injured, and that I should 
 pass through the fiery trial safely and without harm. We 
 were in this condition of danger, this state of anxiety and 
 suspense, when a line of battle on our right advanced, 
 swept away their line of infantry, and charging up the 
 height to those defences, drove away the force there and 
 planted the Stars and Stripes, that glorious symbol of our 
 liberty and nationality, triumphantly upon its high em- 
 battlements ; upon the heights and defences that had 
 frowned our army down for more than four months. Never 
 before did that Old Flag look so good and beautiful to 
 me ; never before was I so proud of my nationality ; and 
 never did I feel so devoted to the holy cause of my bleed- 
 ing country. 
 
 Thus was taken the first line of the enemy’s defences. 
 Soon after this our regiment, as well as the other troops, was 
 ordered down to Fredericksburg, iq order to move up the 
 plank road which leads over the hill toward Gordonsville. 
 Our company was left behind to picket that whole plain ; 
 and not a hundred rods from the position, from which the 
 enemy was very slowly retreating. 
 
 I did not like this duty very well, as we all knew that 
 if the rebels moved toward us it would be folly to resist, 
 and we would have to run with but few chances of escap- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 67 
 
 ing with our lives, but as ours is the left flank company, 
 we could not complain, as it is generally used for all kinds 
 of skirmishing. We remained there until we could not 
 see a friend, until we could see no one but hundreds of 
 lvbels wandering through the woods. You may think 
 this strange, but will understand it when I tell you that 
 just as soon as we had taken the defences, of which I have 
 spoken, they left them again and joined the main column 
 moving up the plank road. Of course the rebels came 
 right back into them again. When we saw that our 
 forces were so far away that it would be impossible to 
 surprise them, we thought it expedient for us to make as 
 hasty a retreat as possible. We fell back to the city, but 
 to our sad disappointment found it almost deserted, and 
 we knew not whereto look for our regiment. The city 
 looked more desolate, more lonely, more forsaken than 
 burning Moscow left by the Russians. 
 
 W r e found out, however, that our regiment had gone 
 up the Gordonsville road before mentioned. We follow- 
 ed on in quick pursuit. We marched about four miles, 
 when we arrived at a litttle grove, in which the Surgeon 
 had raised his little red flag, and by this we knew the 
 regiment must be somewhere near. We halted and Capt. 
 Fish and myself went out to see if we could find it in the 
 sea of humanity that covered the country as far as the 
 eye could reach. But how did we find it ? It was in a 
 terrible engagement then, and we had not advanced far 
 before we met our brave comrades coming off from the field 
 of carnage, covered with glory and their life’s blood. We 
 went on with the view of joining them, but the tide was 
 already turned. Our forces were just coming off from the 
 field. It was now dark. Everything was in chaos. Frag- 
 ments of fifty regiments were drifting around in wild con- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 6S 
 
 fusion Broad fields were covered with wounded, and strag- 
 glers running, they knew not whither. 
 
 By nine o’clock something of order was again restored ; 
 regiments reorganized, and most were ready to rest from 
 their weary toils. The night passed off as do all nights 
 after a day of terrible battle. The next morning dawned 
 and the storm opened again with all its fury. We began 
 to realize the peril of our situation. Our Corps was sur- 
 rounded except by a narrow passage to the river at Ranks 
 Ford, three miles above Fredericksburg. The city was 
 now in the hands of the Rebels. The fighting through 
 the day was mostly artillery and skirmishing. We were 
 in a circle three miles in diameter, surrounded by- woods, 
 and we could see strong lines of battle formed just on the 
 edge of these woods all around. They seemed to be afraid 
 to advance on us, not knowing how weak we were. How 
 fortunate for us ! They could have crushed us into frag- 
 ments. We knew this perfectly well all day and our great 
 hope was that they would not advance upon us before 
 night, as then we thought to make our escape. This was 
 a day of awful anxiety, long to be remembered. To keep 
 - up a show, our Generals kept some of the troops moving 
 about, thereby making our force appear large in the eyes 
 of the enemy. Five o’clock came and with it the most 
 terribly sublime scene I ever saw. The enemy advanced 
 upon us, from every side, and opened afire that made the 
 earth tremble beneath our feet. We were surrounded by 
 a wall of fire ; the black clouds of smoke-hung like a pall 
 around the dying day ; the deafening roar of artillery 
 sounded lik death howling through the wilderness, and 
 all the angry war fiends seemed to be conspiring against 
 us. Howe's Div.sion, ou our 1 ft, was first attacked, but 
 u i e[ ulsed the enemy and took two regiments prisoners. 
 Our regiment was supporting a Batter) upon the extreme 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 69 
 
 right. They made an advance on our lines but were driv- 
 en back and swept down by hundreds almost. We held 
 our position until a little after dark, and then you may be 
 sure we were not slow in making our retreat to the river. 
 Our Brigade brought up the rear of the whole Corps. 
 My Heavens , what a niylit that was ! Ali seemed to be 
 aware of their condition and their peril. The safety of 
 the Corps seemed to hang upon every hour. Every regi- 
 ment vied with each other in the common race lor the 
 river. I will say that I never felt more anxious. We 
 moved down to the river and the whole Corps was mass- 
 ed upon three acres of land. We remained there until 
 eleven o’clock, when the 121st was taken out about half 
 a mile, to the front to guard against any advance of the 
 enemy, while the army was crossing. About four o’clock 
 we moved down to the river as quietly as possible, and 
 were the last regiment to cross. Daylight soon came, but 
 we were safe. What would have been our fate had we 
 been an hour later ? 
 
 I suppose you will have heard of the loss in the 121st 
 before receiving this. 273 were killed, wounded and taken 
 prisoners. About 300 out of 1000 now remain for duty 
 Oh ! what a sacrifice for old Herkimer and Otsego t 
 When will they reap the fruits of this awful immolation ? 
 Captain Arnold is probably killed ; also Fred. Ford 
 and Lieuts. Doubleday and Bates. Capt. Mather is 
 wounded. I will not say any more now of this week of 
 sorrow, of blood and of death. When I write again I will 
 say more. Col. Upton is the bravest man I ever saw. 
 
 Now you must excuse this letter, for I have had to write 
 in great haste and upon the ground. Hoping to hear 
 from you soon, Glood Bye. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
70 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 E3F" The fol'cwing letter was received hut a sho t time after the pre- 
 ceding one. It srives a few more particulars concerning thp battle and 
 especially of the be 1 a\ iir of the 1 21st. It. had then been 1 ar ed for a - 
 certainty of the death of Lieut Fred Ford Fred, and Cla ke had al- 
 ways been on terms of great intimacy before and after t! eir enlistment, 
 lie was a noble yo ng man who enlisted purely from a sense of duty, 
 and when he fell, all who know him mourned 
 
 i t 
 
 Camp near Falmouth, May 14th, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Brother Charley : 
 
 It is raining in torrents, and our little shelter tents are 
 not entirely adequate, to keeping us wholly from the wet. 
 Nevertheless we are not uncomfortable, nor discontented, 
 but appreciate all circumstances as being conducive to our 
 ultimate benefaction. We are made of such pliable ma- 
 terial that we can turn our inclinations into almost any 
 channel ; can he moulded by circumstances into almost any 
 form of mind. Especially, can the American soldier, if he be 
 devoted to the cause of his country, and true to the princi- 
 ples of the fathers, adapt himself to any emergency, and 
 educate himself to any fortune. Why, what are a few 
 temporal sufferings and deprivations in the scale against 
 that undying glory and honor which will he due, and wil- 
 lingly acceded to every soldier who serves faithfully in the 
 army of the Union ? I deny that there can he any real 
 enjoyment, except in a living consciousness of a perform- 
 ance of duty, as rational members of a great political so- 
 ciety. On the other hand, so long as this consciousness, 
 like the breath of angels, sweeps the golden chords of the 
 heart, the wail of misery and of sorrow must be hushed 
 even in the gloomiest hours of our existence. All mis- 
 fortunes, defeats and losses, under such circumstances, 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 71 
 
 sink away, like clouds in an ocean of etherial glory. A 
 consolation bubbles up from the profoundest depths of the 
 heart, and like a mountain spring, overflows the whole 
 being. Though I am obliged to forego a great many 
 privileges which I might enjoy at home, yet I can but 
 heartily wish, that this desolating war which is hanging # 
 the nation in funeral weeds, and spreading sorrow, like 
 drifting snow upon the winds of winter, through so many 
 homes, would come to a close ; yet I can truly say that I 
 was never more contented with my lot, never better assur- 
 ed of laboring in a just and holy cause ; never more proud 
 of the part I was playing in the drama of life, and never 
 more hopeful of the great national issues which await us 
 in the future. 
 
 Charley, you cannot imagine what an experience we 
 had during those seven bloody days, across the Rappa- 
 hannock. They will ever be remembered as among the 
 few historic days, in the woidd’s progress. These are 
 gauntlets which we all have to nln, fulfilling the mis- 
 sion of American soldiers ; and the more perilous they 
 are, the more credit follows the endeavor. The 121st 
 earned for itself a good name, as far as our corps is con- 
 cerned, at any rate. 
 
 Without a view to censure, I must say that some one 
 of our Generals, either Brooks or Sedgwick, committed a 
 great error, in thus crowding our forces into that Hell- 
 hole on Sunday afternoon, without first ascertaining 
 the strength and position of the enemy. As I told you 
 in my other letter, we abandoned the defence of the 
 heights, almost immediately after taking, them. When 
 the rebels fell back, our Generals took it for granted that 
 they were retreating as fast as possible, and therefore hur- 
 ried our troops on in quick and, almost heedless pursuit ; 
 but instead of retreating, they only fell back into their 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 72 
 
 second line of defences, which were completely conceded 
 from us by the thick forests. Our skirmishers were sent 
 out, hut the Rebels fell back without resistance, and thus 
 almost betrayed them into the trap which they had set 
 for all who might advance. 
 
 Thus our brave troops were shoved blindly into the 
 meshes of an overwhelming'foe, into the dark chasm of 
 defeat and death. It seems as though we might have 
 shelled the Rebels out of these woods, at least have learn- 
 ed their strength, position, and intentions, by means of 
 our artillery, and thereby saved the infantry from that 
 awful fire, which swept so many brave spirits from the 
 earth, and roiled back the tide of victory upon the arms 
 of the country. Bartlett’s Brigade formed the first line 
 of battle. In the centre was the 121st, upon the right 
 was the 16th, N. Y., and upon the left, the 96th, Penn, 
 and 5th Maine. The 96th fired two volleys and run, the 
 5th Maine soon broke, and the 16th N. Y. next. Thus 
 both flanks of our Regiment were left unprotected. The 
 enemy came around on both sides and gained a raking fire 
 upon our ranks ; but the 121st, filled with pride and lof- 
 ty patriotism, true to the cause for which they fought, 
 and remembering their kind friends at home, stood firm 
 and irresistable, until the Rebels were obliged to fallback 
 upon another line of battle. 
 
 Of course the feeble regiment, then so small, could not 
 charge upon the new line of fresh troops, and consequently 
 was necessitated to fall back. Col. Upton rallied the few 
 surviving ones, and almost crying as he spoke, implored 
 them in the name of their country, to stand by the Old 
 Flag, and make an attempt to avenge their fallen com- 
 rades, who had so nobly fallen. They tried ; but in vain. 
 
 I hesitate not to say that the 121st bore the heat of the 
 engagement. The 16th N. Y. did well ; but the 5th 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 73 
 
 Maine, and the 96th Pennsylvania, did not honor them- 
 selves a great deal. I have seen it stated in the papers, 
 that the *9 6th led the brigade. I assure you that it did 
 lead it in the retreat. It never was known to fight well 
 but once, and that was at Crampton’s Gap. 
 
 Our Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel played well the 
 parts of heroes in that bloody scene. 
 
 The armies of the Union can boast no braver men, no 
 truer soldiers, no more devoted patriots than Col. Upton 
 and Lieut. Col. Olcott. They seemed to be at every 
 point of the line at the same time, cheering on the men, 
 cautioning them to be cool, showing them how and where 
 to fire, and all with a fearlessness that seemed to defy both 
 injury and death. Col. Upton’s horse was shot under 
 him, and becoming unmanageable, almost carried him in- 
 to the rebel lines. His only chance of escape was by 
 jumping off as quickly as possible. It seems almost a 
 miracle that he passed through the battle. 
 
 The next day, as we were about falling back, Dr. Holt, 
 Newton Phelps, and the whole drum corps were taken 
 prisoners. They learned that the general against us was 
 Gen. Wilcox, who was Col. Upton’s instructor at West 
 Point. He recognized the Colonel and told the Doctor he 
 thought him the bravest man he ever met. 
 
 The Doctor saw most of our dead buried. He noticed 
 Fred. Ford and some others ot Co. C particularly. Fred. 
 was stripped of everything except his shirt. Though he 
 had been exposed two days, yet he looked remarkably 
 natural. He was shot through the thigh, cutting the 
 main artery, and thus bled to death. When he was shot 
 he asked Capt. Kidder to carry him back a little behind 
 a brick church, standing near, that he might be protected 
 from the fire and also from the scorching rays of the sun. 
 That was the last that was ever seen or heard of him before 
 10 
 
74 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OP 
 
 the tide of life ebbed forever away. Alas, for poor Fred. ! 
 He has paid bis last tribute to the cause of Liberty, and 
 and made bis last sacrifice upon the altar of his country f 
 He loved the land of bis nativity, the country of the He^ 
 ro-Fathers ; and bis devotion was as great and deep as bis 
 love — bis patriotism as broad as the justice of our cause. 
 Though he has fallen, be cannot be forgotten. Though 
 his voice is hushed in the solemn silence of the tomb, his 
 noble martyrdom will speak forever as with a thousand 
 tongues. Though his arms are folded upon his cold 
 breast beneath the blood-soaked turf, and his coarse blan- 
 ket is wrapped around him ; methinks I can see his shad- 
 owy ghost, with a hundred thousand more, wandering 
 like pilgrims through the damp darkness of the hour, and 
 invoking a terrible retribution upon their murderers, and 
 the enemies of the Republic. 
 
 No, he is not wholly dead. A true patriot cannot die. 
 While his ashes are mouldering in the wilderness, by the 
 little brick chapel on the hill, and traitors sing their war 
 songs over the little fresh mound in which his mortality, 
 lies, his gallant spirit, robed in white, and winged with a 
 martyr’s glory, is lightly dancing with the bright spirits 
 gone before him, to the harps played by angels, around 
 the ball-room of the skies. 
 
 As we stand in imagination upon the bloody battle- 
 field and see the great death-angel wrapping his dark 
 wings around him, and hearing him out from the battle- 
 storms of life forever, we can hut say, soldier, martyr, de- 
 voted patriot, heroe, and friend, Hail ! and Farewell. 
 
 The loss of our Corps (Sedgwick’s) is estimated at 
 5,000, nearly half the total loss of the whole army. It is 
 rumored that Gen. Sedgwick had orders to move up and 
 take the heights, thirty-six hours before he made the at- 
 tack. If this be so, the defeat of the campaign can he eas- 
 
LIEU?. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 75 
 
 ily accounted for. Some of the prisoners that we took, 
 acknowledged that we could have taken the heights, a 
 great deal easier, a day or two before ; for their whole and 
 principal force was engaged in fighting Hooker. 
 
 I cannot see why Gen. Hooker did not attack them in 
 the rear, when they were pressing on us so. Hut I am 
 willing to make allowances. I have unqualified confidence 
 in Gen. Hooker still ; and fully believe that if all subor- 
 dinates had carried out his designs and orders, the result 
 would have been far different. 
 
 But I do not get discouraged, dispirited or gloomy. I 
 feel assured we shall succeed ultimately. The Right 
 must prevail. 
 
 The country, wrapped in the folds of anorerruling des- 
 tiny, is receiving an awful scourging ; but she will cer- 
 tainly survive the storms of this terrible conflict. My on- 
 ly fears spring from the tardiness or waywardness of the 
 powers at Washington. The Administration seems al- 
 ways too slow. Instead of making events, it is reluctant- 
 ly carried along by the events which the laws of Nature 
 have sent sweeping through the bosom of the nation. It 
 is Spring, the time for carrying on active operations ; but 
 the army, always too small, is being enfeebled by the 
 mustering out of two years' soldiers ; and yet nothing has 
 been done by the Administration towards recruiting the 
 ranks of the army, through the channel which Congress 
 has opened. 
 
 It seems to me that depots, ought to have been opened 
 through the country, where our conscripts should have 
 been assembled, drilled, disciplined and educated in the 
 art of war, preparatory to being sent into active service. 
 Had this been done, the losses which the army is now sus- 
 taing could he filled in a day, and we should be in readi- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 76 
 
 ness to prosecute a vigorous, sweeping and successful 
 summer's campaign. 
 
 But I will criticise no more. It is to be hoped that a 
 good and wise Providence presides over the elements, for- 
 ces, and agents of this struggle. 
 
 I visited the camp of the 97th yesterday ; and saw 
 Lieuts. Norton and Chamberlain. They are well and 
 enjoying themselves gloriously. In fact, a good feeling 
 pervades the whole army, notwithstanding the sweep 
 which death has made through its ranks, and the defeat 
 that has come upon its arms. 
 
 I am now commanding Co. F, Capt. Wendell’s old 
 company. He was killed at Chancellorsville, you know. 
 I feel considerably flattered by my transfer ; for although 
 there is considerable responsibility resting upon my should- 
 ers, yet I can exercise my own authority, and consequent- 
 ly, take more pride and interest in my company. 
 
 I wish that I could be at home to witness all the scenes 
 of the Anniversary Exercises. 
 
 I have been to a great many theatres, and have - seen 
 the first comedies, tragedies and dramas of the world of 
 romance, acted by the most illustrious performers of our 
 country. I have heard some of the most accomplished 
 orators, of which the century can boast, pour forth the 
 clear, silvery, yet torrent-like stream of resistless eloquence ; 
 I have been in a great many States, and have seen people 
 play all the different parts in the drama of real life ; but 
 have never seen anything which interests me so much, 
 which awakens more happy emotions in my breast, than 
 the Anniversary Exercises of the good old Institution at 
 Fairfield. I know that the troupe now acting upon its 
 stage will add neiv lustre to its ancient fame. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 77 
 
 Banks of the Rappahannock, June 11, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Brother Charley : 
 
 Some time has elapsed since I last heard from you, hut 
 I trust you will not attribute any negligence to me for 
 my delay in answering you, for you know how fickle are 
 all the winds that blow over a soldier’s life ; how arbi- 
 trary are all the Fates that preside over our fortunes, that 
 grant us our privileges, deal us our cards, give us our 
 chances, spoil many of our golden purposes, — in a word, 
 mould for us our destinies. In times ot peace and at 
 home, often are our happiest life-dreams scattered like 
 silver mist by some unseen event ; our fondest wishes are 
 scorned as idle longings, and our choicest purposes are 
 snatched away from us forever. But much more uncer- 
 tain are our hopes, and prospects, and efforts, and plans, 
 and cherished designs, as we are whirled around and 
 around in the eddying sweeps of this war’s events. The 
 night always shrouds the morrow in a mystery im- 
 penetrable. “ Coming events cast their shadows before 
 the hand on the dial follows the speeding minutes round ; 
 all indications are like the weather signs of spring, full 
 of delusions. Hence the passing hour is without any out- 
 lines of its future, however dim. We have to make our 
 plans upon a perfect blank, and consequently they often 
 prove to be vain and impracticable. We are as liable to 
 defeats as to successes in the execution. 
 
 Since I last wrote you, many things have transpired, all 
 as unexpected as they are full of interest. Then I could 
 see no signs of a movement ; the skies seamed swept of 
 every storm-cloud ; camp-life was moving on without a 
 
78 LETTERS AJSfR WRITINGS OF 
 
 ripple ; all was a quiet as a New England Sabbath. But 
 since then the dark-visaged War Grods have been aroused 
 from their heavy slumber. The solemn silent spell which 
 has bound them since the banner drooped so sadly upon 
 the fields of Fredericksburg, has been broken, and sweep- 
 ing their dark desolating wings down the fair Rappa- 
 hannock valley, where so many shadow spirits are hover- 
 ing, they fill the hills and low-lands of old Stafford once 
 more with a deep, steady war-din, like the sound of a 
 resounding sea-swell, or the rush of a storm through the 
 wilderness. 
 
 Of course there is always an idea, a some thing terrible 
 in the stormy hours and scenes of war ; and yet we have 
 acquired such an appetite for something interesting, ex- 
 citing, and decisive, that we hail with rejoicing, all signs 
 that foreshadow a battle, or point to some decisive change. 
 Hence we were glad when we received orders to pack up ; 
 when we were assured that we were going to cross the 
 Rappahannock again ; that another crisis was opening be- 
 tween the boasted giant armies of the land. These en- 
 gagements, although so terrible, so full of wounds and 
 wails, and pains, and tears ; though death hovers over 
 them like a great, gaunt vulture over its prey, yet they 
 have a magic power to charm, a great fascination, — and 
 they are full of allurements, full of rich curiosities which 
 we are always eager to get. 
 
 I suppose you are almost as well acquainted with what 
 has been done down here as we soldiers are ourselves, as 
 every act now has a hundred tongues with which it de- 
 clares itself to the public ear. Yet, though this move- 
 ment has been developing itself now for more than a week, 
 there is a thick mystery hanging around it still. So far 
 only the Sixth corps seem to have acted a part. We 
 broke up camp last Friday, and our corps moved out up- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RfCE. 79' 
 
 on the high bluffs, which overlook the wide beautiful val- 
 ley of the river. The column halted and rested there till 
 toward evening, when the 2d Division, (Hough’s) march- 
 ed down upon the plain, right in plain sight of the enemy, 
 and planted their batteries upon the river’s hank. The 
 engineer corps then commenced to lay their pontoons, hut 
 the rebel Sharpshooters harrassed them, so that they were 
 obliged to fall hack upon another expedient. All of our 
 batteries were opened upon the rifle-pits on the other side 
 of the river, which were full, and the fire was so incessant 
 — so sweeping, — so destructive, that the rebels did not 
 dare to raise their heads above the pit banks. Under the 
 protection of this fire our men lowered their boats into the 
 water, and rowed across to the other side. This artillery 
 fire was kept up until three or four regiments had crossed 
 over, and formed in line of battle on the other side. Then 
 all at once a signal was sounded, and the firing ceased, 
 and this line of battle made one the finest charges upon 
 those rifle pits, known in the history of the war. The 
 rebels had not time to recover from the shock which they 
 had received from our cannonading, and being in a perfect 
 state of confusion and chaos, were unable to make the 
 feeblest resistance. Some throwing down their arms 
 rushed over the works, and gave themselves up. Others 
 essayed to fly, and were shot down. But the majority 
 lay down behind the embankments, and like helpless sup-' 
 pliants, cried for mercy and protection. Thus once more 
 our great army gained a foot-hold, a firm foot-hold upon 
 the hostile bank, where twice it had stood before, and 
 twice had been beaten back. Nothing could have been 
 done more handsomely — nothing could have shown better 
 the superiority of northern valor and northern strategy. 
 This crossing was effected where Franklin crossed last 
 December, about half a mile below the city. Skirmish- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 80 
 
 ers were sent out, and they cleared the plain in front, as 
 far as the Richmond turn pike, a mile from the river, and 
 on the right flank down to what is called Deep Run, and 
 on the left flank up to the Bernard House. Here our 
 picket line was established, and still is, forming the cir- 
 cumference of a semi-circle of about a mile and half in 
 extent. There our division, (the First), now Glen. Wright’s, 
 relieved the 2d on Sunday night, and held the position 
 till last night, when we were relieved by the 3d division, 
 and moved over on this side of the river. While we were 
 over there, there was a good deal of skirmishing and can- 
 nonading, hut without much loss. We suffered mainly 
 from their sharp-shoo ters who were secreted in little pits, 
 and against which our shots could not take effect. While 
 we were over there, we built up the strongest earthworks 
 I ever saw, curving from one point on the river around a 
 mill, across the plain, and striking its right bank again, 
 a mile from the other point. This will protect our men 
 from all the cannonading of the rebels, from the cannon 
 mounted upon the heights beyond, and behind which 
 they could sweep down a hundred lines of battle, if the 
 enemy is foolish enough to hurl themselves against the 
 fortifications This shows that our Generals are either 
 determined to hold their position, or are trying to make 
 a feint, by which to cover some other, and grander under- 
 taking. 
 
 As I said before, I cannot tear away the veil of mys- 
 tery which conceals the whole play. I feel assured in 
 saying, however, that it is not designed to try to carry 
 the heights again at this point. By the time you get 
 this, I ] (resume fuller developements will have been made 
 and we shall know what is the great design and the result 
 of it. At present the air is full of idle rumors. In all 
 the confusion of voices that breaks upon our ears we can 
 sift out no positive intelligence. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 81 
 
 It is said that some part of the army has already start- 
 ed for the Peninsula, with the view of co-operating with 
 the forces there, in a grand campaign against the capital 
 of the rebellion. This really looks plausible. The plan 
 looks feasible, and I confidently hope that, ere long, some 
 glorious achievement will bring honor to our arms and 
 gladness to the hearts of the people. 
 
 Charlie, I wish you were here with me to-day. I 
 think you would acknowledge yourself privileged to look 
 upon one of the most interesting, the most charming, the 
 most awfully sublime scenes of this century. Don’t thick 
 me extravagant or boasting ; for surely no words of hu- 
 man tongue can swell the voices of Nature and of War, 
 that are sounding around me. No touch of fancy can 
 add a single tinge to the grand scene of destiny spread 
 out before me. 
 
 I am sitting upon the brink of a range of bluffs, which 
 stretches for miles up and down the river, and towers up 
 perpendicularly two hundred feet from the line of the 
 plain. The point where I sit is mounted with heavy 
 siege guns, and back of the left borders of the city of 
 Fredericksburg, and within a stone’s throw of its deserted 
 streets. The valley of the Rappahannock stretches out 
 from the foot of these heights to the foot of the hills be- 
 yond, which are whitened with the tented homes of ninety 
 thousand traitors, where prowls the rebel army with its 
 enginery of death, frowning upon us, and every height 
 blazing with ten thousand camp-fires, flashing the light 
 of hostility in our eyes. 
 
 The valley is about two and a half miles in width, not 
 appearing to be half that distance from one range to the 
 other, and stretches up and down the river in the dim 
 distance like the smooth level of the sea. The silvery 
 river winds its meandering way down through the middle 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OP 
 
 82 
 
 of that fertile plain. How beautifully it looks — that 
 deep, noiseless, crystal stream, flowing down through that 
 luxuriant valley ! The Po, in the valley of Piedmont, 
 historic with all the golden memories of immortal Italy, 
 whereat the genius of Carthage sat and made old Rome 
 tremble for her security, shall not, down in the future, 
 occupy a more conspicuous place in history than the Rap- 
 pahannock, with the valley of Stafford. I can sit here 
 and see distinctly all the movements of our forces on the 
 other side of the river, and also the movements of the en- 
 emy. It would seem that they wanted to come down on 
 our little division, but, not daring to do that, only keep 
 themselves in readiness to defend their own cherished 
 stronghold. 
 
 We can see quite distinctly what are said to be Gen. 
 Lee’s headquarters ; also those of Gen. Longstreet, who 
 has two corps massed just behind the city and along the 
 Gordonsville road. The city looks lonely and forlorn 
 enough. Really the genius of that old town of prosperi- 
 ty, and wealth, and fashion, and aristocracy, is bowed 
 down in sackcloth and ashes. It is crushed with the 
 retributions which its life-long sins have brought up- 
 on it. The people have almost all deserted it, except the 
 very poorest and some colored people. I remember it as 
 one of the finest cities of our country, in all the elements 
 a city’s worth, before the war began. But now the hum 
 of life is hushed, the houses are vacant, windows broken, 
 doors unhinged, fences in ashes, mills in dilapidation, and 
 grass growing on the streets. Such is Fredericksburg to- 
 day. But it was once a beautiful place, and some of its 
 fine features linger yet, only as the sad characters of its 
 epitaph. The celebrated Washington farm is in sight — 
 the finest farm I ever saw in my life ; also the Fitzhugh 
 farm where Gen. Lee married his wife. It is now called 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 83 
 
 the Barnard House, of which I have spoken. But it is 
 now in ruins. It must have been one of the finest houses 
 in the country in its day, and built according to the style 
 of feudal times. The memories which linger around these 
 places give to reality all the interest and charm of ro- 
 mance. 
 
 Well, Charlie, I can only wish you were here to see 
 all these line things, all these wonders, all these charms. 
 
 What do the people think of Gen. Hooker now ? — 
 Have they lost their confidence in him ? I hope not. — 
 Tuesday he rode up and down our lines, and stopped very 
 near where I was standing. So I had a grand opportu- 
 ty to scan him. I had seen him before, but so far off 1 , I 
 could not get much of an impression concerning him. 
 But now I can truly say, that he is one of the finest look- 
 ing men I ever saw. He is a very tall man, well propor- 
 tioned, with high massive square head, bright black locks 
 and healthy red cheeks. He has all the military airs, as 
 much so as McClellan, and at the same time, appears 
 much more intelligent and active. His head is higher 
 than Mac’s and not so round. I was happily disappoint- 
 ed in him. I have more confidence in him to-day, than I 
 had before the battle of Fredericksburg, nothwithstand- 
 the popular clamor against him. There is one thing he 
 can do better than any other General in this country. He 
 can keep his own counsels. Even the corps commanders 
 did not know of this movement, until they received the 
 order to march doivn to the river. This spirit of inde- 
 pendence is the best sign of Genius and Power. I wrote 
 you about coming down here in vacation. I was glad to 
 hear that you would come. * * * 
 
 You will have no trouble in getting a pass in Washing- 
 ton at the Provost Marshal’s office. If we are still in this 
 part of Virginia, you will procure one for Falmouth. — 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 84 
 
 Write to me all the news, as soon as you receive this — 
 all about the last day’s exercises, and what you can con- 
 sistently, of your Public. How well I would like to he 
 up there. As well would I like to go in the way I had 
 laid out, before I enlisted. I cannot think of chang- 
 ing my soldier’s life for it now, f hope not, till the last 
 cannon booms forth the last roar of war. I hope Caro- 
 line and Nancy will be home in time to enjoy the exer- 
 cises. Give my love to Father and Mother, and to Elea- 
 zer’s family. Give my best regards to all the people of 
 the old village, and accept this from 
 
 Clarke. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 85 
 
 Camp near Bull Run Battle-field, 
 June 22d, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Parents : «■ 
 
 Though hut a few days have elapsed since I last wrote 
 you, yet as I have a few leisure moments at command, I 
 hasten, with a glad heart, to improve them, by writing 
 you a few lines again. You can never imagine what joy, 
 and moral strength, your last letter imparted to me. I 
 had begun almost to despair of hearing again from you 
 directly, and consequently, it was made doubly welcome 
 by the surprise. It seems to have been ordained, and 
 wisely I think, that children’s appreciation of parental 
 kindness, strengthens, as time and distance, expand be- 
 tween us. The affections, which stretch down through 
 the human race, linking together the responsive hearts of 
 generations, are always tuned, and ever unbroken. They 
 are full of natural music ; they tingle with the vital cur- 
 rent of the soul. But it is only the finger-sweeps of the 
 outer world, that can make them sound forth the deepest 
 harmony, and sympathy of our better lives. A kind word 
 is never so sweet, as when uttered, while harsh sounds 
 are grating upon our ears. The sunshine is never so 
 pleasant, as when the storm-clouds have just rolled away. 
 A smile is never so charming, as when it falls upon us, 
 from beneath some dark, heavy frown. Friends are al- 
 ways dearest, when enemies are nearest. 
 
 Well, we have passed through some interesting scenes, 
 since you heard from me last, though the time is quite 
 short. Then we were on picket, and some of our corps 
 lay on the southern side of the Rappahannock, and look- 
 ed defiantly upon the frowning heights, that had stayed 
 
8$ LETTERS 4P WRITINGS OF 
 
 the advance of our army, for more than six months. But 
 now they are encamped, temporarily, upon the historic 
 ground, made sacred by the blood of more than ten thou- 
 sand patriot martyrs. You may be assured, that though 
 there are many hardships attending our wayward pilgrim- 
 age, yet it affords us a great deal of satisfaction, and in- 
 terest, to visit these hallowed Meccas of our blood-wash- 
 ed land. You can hardly imagine what emotions, what 
 deep feelings of mingled sadness and gladness, swell up 
 in our breasts, as we tread the consecrated soil, where so 
 many of our gallant soldier brothers have bravely fought, 
 and resolutely suffered, and willingly laid down their lives, 
 in tho cause of Country, and Liberty, and Humanity. 
 You will remember that I said in my last letter, that a, 
 deep mystery, hung upon the movement then on the tapis, 
 and hence, I could not even guess concerning the issues, 
 which might be developed, in the progress of it. You 
 know, that though we are right in the scenes of action, 
 yet we can only look upon the military board, from a very 
 low stand point. This accounts for the many errors in 
 our prophecies. After our division was relieved, concern- 
 ing which I wrote you, our brigade was sent out on pick- 
 et, along the river, and down towards King Gieorge’s Court 
 House. We had been on duty for two days, when, about 
 11 o’clock at night, we received orders to draw in our 
 pickets, and make our way as best we could, through the 
 darkness, and the wilderness, to White Oak Church, 
 where the brigade was being assembled, for the purpose 
 of bringing up the rear of the great retreating army of 
 the Potomac. We all arrived there about one o’clock, 
 and then marching till 
 
 “Jocund day stood tiptoe 
 
 On the misty mountain tops,’, 
 
 we halted for the day, on the Potomac Creek. The whole 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKft RICE. 87 
 
 army, or this wing of it, had passed on, and our division 
 was thus left behind, to guard the endless baggage train, 
 which now, like a pilgrim procession, was slowly winding 
 its way, in its northward course, through the deep, dark 
 defiles, and over the broad, desolate sweeps of Old Vir- 
 ginia. We rested until we- saw the last wagon of this 
 great train file past us, as it rolled the dry dust back upon 
 the fields it had deserted, and then we fell in line, and 
 marched all night. We arrived at Stafford Court House, 
 by early day-break, and then halted for an hour. Then 
 we marched till 9 o’clock, when we halted again till 11 
 o’clock. The column was formed again, and headed to- 
 wards Dumfries, on the Potomac. This was one of the 
 warmest days, of which I have any remembrance, and be- 
 fore the night shades fell around, its prostrating heat laid 
 many a poor soldier, panting and helpless, by the way- 
 side. It was a forced march, as our General had orders 
 to report at Dumfries by three o’clock. No time was to 
 be lost. It was apparently, a case of emergency and of 
 necessities of war, more pressing than circumstances of 
 nature. Onward we pushed, without rest, without wat- 
 er, without shade, without a single cool breath of air, 
 with nothing but burning dust, and scorching sun, and 
 heated air, and hot sandy plains, and barren hills, 
 and deep, wide channels, without any murmuring streams, 
 till at last, blindness fell upon the poor, weary, foot-sore 
 soldiers, and one by one, yet thick and fast, they dropped 
 by the way-sides. Yet we moved on, until we had not 
 half a dozen in each company. Then it became a case of 
 necessity to halt, which was done. In two or three hours 
 a great portion of them joined us again. Some were not 
 able then. Some will never be. A few, alas ! too many ! 
 lie where they fell, without a requiem, and without a tomb 
 stone to mark their resting places. The marching after 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 88 
 
 after that day was comparatively easy. We are now rest- 
 ing in a very fine situation, and enjoying ourselves, as 
 soldiers only can. We are not far from Fairfax Court 
 House, and right on the ground where was fought the junior 
 battle of Bull Run. Many a crude mound, scattered here 
 and there, exist, as some of the lingering traces of that 
 awful visitation, and show us where sleep, and sweetly 
 sleep, so many of our lost patriot-soldiers. I do not know 
 much about the position of the army, and still less of the 
 plans, designs and purposes, of our leading Generals. — 
 But I have still great confidence in them. I think that 
 Lee has been defeated in his darling project against Wash- 
 ington. I believe that a righteous destiny presides over 
 this struggle, and that we shall triumph if we deserve to. 
 Then why despair ? I suppose you will see Nancy and 
 Caroline soon. Urge them to write to me. I am anxi- 
 ously awaiting Charley’s coming. He will keep watch of 
 the movements of the Army, and then wfill procure his 
 pass accordingly, from Washington. I think he will have 
 no trouble in procuring one. If he could get in company 
 with some one coming down here it would be better. But 
 I must close. I fear you wil have trouble to read this, 
 but in your trouble, have patience for me. Give my love 
 to all and accept this from. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 89 
 
 Edward’s Ferry, June 29th, 1863. • 
 
 i 
 
 Dear Brother and Sister : 
 
 A good while has elapsed since I last wrote to you, hut 
 a longer time since I have heard from you directly. To- 
 night we find ourselves safe on the Maryland side of the 
 Potomac. It is with mingled feelings of satisfaction and 
 humiliation, that we realize this fact ; of satisfaction, be- 
 cause our army has been moved so quickly, and so safely, 
 from the Wilderness of the Old Dominion into a land un- 
 polluted hy Rebellion, into a land where we find some 
 assurance of devotion to the cause of our suffering coun- 
 try ; of humiliation, because this great Army of the Po- 
 tomac, the best disciplined, and the most enthusiastic the 
 world has ever seen, after having prosecuted an active 
 warfare for eight eventful months, in the very heart of 
 the enemy’s country, now finds the tables turned, and it- 
 self under the sad necessity of falling back before the bold 
 columns of the advancing foe, in order to save the Capi- 
 tal of the Nation, from an ignominous doom, and to pro- 
 tect the fair fields, and the beautiful cities, the family 
 firesides and household Gods of our Northern homes, from 
 the torch and the desecrating hand of the invader. This 
 is an awful fact to realize, yet I think it a sad one, more 
 on account of its relation to the past, than its relation to 
 the future. Though the past is full of dark heavy clouds, 
 of many misfortunes, of great losses, of awful disaster, and 
 of little sunshine, and of victories few, yet I do not think 
 the signs of to-day, are without many bright indications, 
 considering the circumstances, which surrounded the ar- 
 ' 12 
 
90 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 my and the country, when this campaign was opened. I 
 am inclined to think, that this audacious, and apparently 
 successful move of the enemy, will give us the greatest 
 chance for a grand victory, and eventuate in the destruc- 
 tion of the Confederate Army. It had become very evi- 
 dent, even to the blindest, that it would be impracticable 
 to move on against the Rebel Capital, from the Rappa- 
 hannock, and it was equally evident, that our position 
 was very weak and utterly untenable, as our army could 
 be easily outflanked, and our falling back became a ne- 
 cessity by the slightest menace on Washington. Now we 
 find the enemy out from behind his strong-holds, and as 
 he has presumed to organize* a campaign of invasion, and 
 conquest and finally has dragged his long length across 
 the Potomac, I cannot see what there is to prevent our 
 cutting off and making his retreat impossible, and cover- 
 ing him with ruin, before the autumn leaves begin to fall. 
 I feel that this is the grandest chance of the hour, and 
 that its glory shall be ours, if our Generals only prove 
 themselves equal to the emergency. What, though the 
 place differs, if we can only make the fields which are des- 
 ecrated, the glorious battle-ground and the grave yard of 
 the foe. I think that we should make the ruin of the 
 rebel army more our object than the taking of Richmond, 
 for Lee’s army is the life of the Rebellion, and if we can 
 destroy it, the conspiracy will be but a corpse. And it 
 seems to me too, that our forces on the Peninsula ought 
 to seize this golden opportunity, and move to the reduc- 
 tion of that modern Babylon. Perhaps they will. I re- 
 ally hope so. It is rumored that Gen. Hooker has re- 
 signed. I am sorry to hear it, for I think he has mani- 
 fested more military ability, than any other Generals that 
 have yet held the destinies of the Potomac Army. I un- 
 derstand that Hooker resigned because Halleck would not 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 91 
 
 let him engage Lee at Fairfax. I am enjoying good health 
 notwithstanding we are marching from twenty to fifty 
 miles per day. All the boys are in good health, and fine 
 spirits. I am glad Charlie is coming down here. I 
 know he will learn a good deal, and just as soon as we 
 halt he will have a good position. If we go up into Penn- 
 sylvania, I guess he had better come to Harrisburgh, and 
 then he can find where we are. Accept this from 
 
 Clarke. 
 
92 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 tfc 
 
 Camp in Warrenton, Va., July 30th, 1863. 
 
 Mi Dear Brother Charley : 
 
 Nothing’ could have disappointed me more, or brought 
 with it more sorrow and sadness, than did the tidings that 
 you had come so near me, only to be turned, without any 
 of the fine enjoyments which we. had so long anticipated. 
 For a good many weeks, I had been looking forward, with 
 the brightest hopes, to the time when I might welcome 
 you to the soldier home, and when we might again unite 
 the golden ties of association which the hand of this cruel 
 war had so abruptly broken asunder. But all is un- 
 certainty in times like these, when revolutions are sweep- 
 ing through the world, and states are swaying to and fro, 
 like shipmasts in a tempest. The great landmarks by 
 which we had so long directed our course have fallen to 
 the ground, and we are now wayward wanderers upon a 
 desert, not knowing whither we are goin. So, of course, 
 we must expect that some of our reckonings will fall 
 short of a realization, and leave us to grieve in the lurch 
 of disappointment and misfortune. 
 
 Since I became assured that you Avere compelled to re- 
 turn home, I have tried to look at it in as favorable a 
 light as possible, but consolation for the disappointment 
 harly ever comes to view. We are lying in line of battle 
 near Hagarstown, momentarily expecting to be ordered to 
 open upon the enemy, Avith the determination of crushing 
 the rebel army, or of driving them into the Potomac. 
 
 When I first saw John Gray, and he told me of your 
 ill luck in trying to get a pass, I Avas much grieved, yet 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 93 
 
 I trust your journey to the great capital and back again 
 was not wholly in vain or entirely without its good re- 
 sults. I have reason to think that you saw, and heard, 
 and learned enough of public, political and military life, 
 to fully repay you for all the material expenditures that 
 you were obliged to make. 
 
 It is one of the rarest opportunities for a young man, 
 no older than you, to see so much of life, so many of our 
 country’s great wonders. What real objects we actually 
 see in the world’ s great theater, we always remember ; 
 what public scenes we actually see enacted upon the great 
 stage we never forget, not even their minutest details. — 
 They form the world’s philosophy, the thread of history, 
 
 . and they are always in our minds. We can hitch these 
 threads to the shuttles of our own thoughts, and thus 
 weave them into our own theories. When we travel 
 through the country and mingle with all sorts of men, 
 and look upon all the ten thousand phases of life, we can 
 gather up a multitude of facts, electrify them with .our 
 brains, and send them flying messengers through society. 
 The world is our spheres and how can we direct our forces 
 to meet its requisitions, unless we wander out into it to 
 see what claims it has upon us, what duties we owe, what 
 privileges we possess, what chances we can find, what 
 courses there are to follow, what goals there are to gpin, 
 and what fortunes to be made. Men who never sally in- 
 to the world, if ordinary by birth, will never be larger 
 than the cradles in which they were rocked. If they nat- 
 urally have strong and active minds, they will but be 
 vain dreamers and extravagant idealists, to whom the 
 world is a mighty phantom, and life but a passing dream. 
 To them, events come and go, not as living realities, but 
 as flitting shadows on the wall. We know the world only 
 by coming in contact with it, and if we touch it on every 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 94 
 
 side, our knowledge of it will be nearly perfect, our ideas 
 as broad as the world, our plans covering the wide sweep 
 of life. No human being will be obliged to stand out in 
 the cold, under the dripping eave-drops of our charity. 
 No blanks would be found in the great record of our days 
 upon the earth. 
 
 Well, Charley, since I last wrote, we have had some 
 very fine times, and others not so much to our peculiar 
 liking. Yet we have no fault to find, as we have fared 
 better than we might have expected. We have accom- 
 plished a good many long marches, and 1 hope we have 
 done good enough, to cover all our hardships. After the 
 battle of Gettysburg, our corps "as pushed forward, to 
 attack the rear of the retreating eD iy. We, (I use the 
 first person in writing, not egotistica " hut as a matter 
 of convenience,) pressed them pretty 'y for about 
 eight miles, taking a few wagons of ti. rain and a 
 good many prisoners. Here the corps halt ’ j wrong- 
 ly I fhink, for it appears that we might havi pressed the 
 whole of Ewell’s corps to the wall, had we not been so slow 
 and cautious. Such sights we ngver saw before, as fell 
 under our observation that day. As soon as we had pass- 
 ed over the battle-fields, we came upon the spot where all 
 the divisions of the rebel army were brought together from 
 their, positions in the fight, arid joined in the column of 
 retreat. Every farm-house and barn for five miles around 
 bore the little “red flag” upon its gable end. Every floor, 
 and every room, were crowded with rebel wounded, and 
 every house was surrounded by quite a little tented vil- 
 lage, which the rebels had left standing to cover their 
 helpless companions. Besides, they obliged all, who could 
 £ro on account of their wounds, to march with them,, and 
 they filled their ambulances with a thousand more. They 
 made the country a perfect desolation, sweeping it of all 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 95 
 
 the land-marks of its former prosperity, and trampling 
 all of its growing harvests beneath the accursed foot of 
 invasion. None of the rules of civilized warfare were res- 
 pected. They were wont to enter the quiet homes of un- 
 offending families, pillaging them of the last morsel of 
 bread, and even laying their sacr-iligious hands upon their 
 most cherished house-hold gods. 
 
 As I said, the corps halted at night, near Fairfield, and 
 we had a good rest. But early next morning, before day- 
 light, our regiment was aroused, who with a squadron of 
 cavalry, were sent out skirmishing. We had not advanc- 
 ed far, before we fell upon the rear-guard of the rebels, 
 which was pretty stron g, and it was not without pretty 
 hard fighting, that •- succeeded in driving them from 
 their position, ant 1 - dressing them onward in the retreat. 
 We shir mi si. 1 wi about 3 o’clock, having pushed for- 
 ward f ir old 'H'u'Viiiles, when we were relieved, and sent 
 back to - .ofainder of the corps. That was a pretty 
 hard day’s sork. But we had not beeu in camp many 
 minutes, when orders came to pack up immediately, and 
 be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Soon we were 
 on the road. We marched all night, reaching Emmetts- 
 burgh at day-light, where we halted for an hour to get 
 coffee. Emmettsburgh is a very fine city, about as large 
 as Utica. It is one of the strongholds of Catholicism in 
 this country. It has both a convent and a nunnery 
 Promptly as the hour expired, we formed the line of 
 march again, and marched all day on the road leading to 
 Frederick city. But a little before dark we turned off 
 upon a by-road, which Wound around through lowlands, 
 rocks, and woods, to the base of the Cotocton Range of 
 the South Mountains. By this time it was as dark as the 
 shades of Erebus could make it. 
 
 Here we were, artillery, cavalry, and infantry, all jam 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 96 
 
 med in together, all in choas, all struggling to get out, 
 thereby plunging ten times deeper into difficulty. The 
 mountain towered up before us in the darkness, as if to 
 touch the heavens. The narrow, rocky, shadowy aisle 
 winds up the pass, four miles before it reaches the height, 
 and wide enough for us, two abreast, and thus we slowly, 
 very slowly, pursued our weary, nightly course. The 
 higher we climbed, the darker it grew, for the woods grew 
 denser until the trees on either side of our narrow way, 
 interlocking their branches, made a perfect archway over 
 our heads. Soon it began to rain, and it poured down as 
 I never saw it before. Of course it became very muddy 
 under our feet. The men began to tire out, and lay down 
 by the way-side, with nothing to cover the cold, wet 
 ground, and nothing to shelter them from the furious 
 storm. Yet they rested and slept well, being so com- 
 pletely exhausted. Still we saw no signs of stopping, 
 and still we moved on. Of course the wayside became 
 lined with the soldiers who had done their best, but were 
 not equal to the task. By midnight we stood upon the 
 summit. By “we” I mean the General, Col. Upton, 
 some other officers and a few men. Some officers had no 
 men. I had only six left in my company. There we 
 stood. It was midnight ; it rained in torrents ; the 
 mountain winds swept coldly through the cheerless wood. 
 The ground was soaked with water. We were dripping, 
 and covered with mud. We had eaten nothing since early 
 morning, and were very hungry ; we had had no rest, and 
 were weary. We had had no sleep, and were sleepy. But 
 alas ! we had nothing to eat ; we had nothing to lie on ; 
 we had nothing to cover us. A sorry night indeed, but 
 we made the best of it. We lay down in the best places 
 we could find, and. though it rained hard all night, being 
 so tired, we slept well, and in the morning were consider- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 97 
 
 ably rested. That clay we marched to Middletown, a dis- 
 tance of eight miles, and by night nearly all that had fal- 
 len out the night before, had come up. One of the worst 
 features of that mountain march, was the great number 
 of men without shoes. In our heavy marches from the 
 Rappahannock to Gettysburg, they had worn their shoes 
 completely in pieces, and on account of the press of cir- 
 cumstances, they could not be supplied. They suffered 
 severely, in trying to walk over the stones, which were as 
 bad as anywhere in Pine Bush country, where we used to 
 go black-berrying. Next day went to Boonsborough,and 
 then by degrees, pushed on to Hagerstown. Then was 
 the time that we had the rebel army in our grasp, and I 
 think that it was in our power, to bring confusion to its 
 ranks, and make it but a wreck of its former self. For 
 three days, we lay in line of battle, in plain sight of the 
 enemy, our lines advancing, as they slowly contracted 
 theirs, and fell back towards the ford. For two days, 
 the two extremes of our army rested upon the Potomac, 
 forming a semi-circle, which could be described with a 
 radius of three miles in length, and the enemy lay thus 
 cooped up, helpless to save itself, should we make an at- 
 tack, and diligently employing every expedient, to ensure 
 a safe retreat across the river. Did we not have it in our 
 grasp ? Were we extravagant in our expectations of des- 
 troying the rebel army ? It was well known that their 
 ammunition was very short ; that they were cut off from 
 supplies, and that the “ morale ” of their army, was at the 
 lowest ebl), that consternation and confusion reigned in 
 their midst, and that hunger and exhaustion, were press- 
 ing them to the ground. It must have been known to our 
 Generals, that Lee was not going to make a stand on the 
 Maryland side of the Potomac, as he was continually 
 drawing in his lines, from all sides, towards Williamsport. 
 
 13 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 98 
 
 This alone was evidence enough, that he was intent only 
 on making good his escape. Even after he had commenc- 
 ed to cross, the fact was found out by our scouts, and 
 duly communicated to Headquarters. Then would have 
 been just the time to make the attack, from all points, 
 and compel the flying remnant to lay down their arms, or 
 plunge them into the river. It is reported that General 
 Pleasenton thought very hard of Gen. Meade, because he 
 did not snatch the golden opportunity, and win for him- 
 self a name, for his army Victory, and for his country 
 Peace. I will not find fault with Gen. Meade, I only re- 
 gret that Gen. Hooker did not have command of the army, 
 at that juncture of affairs. For judging the man by his 
 past career, I cannot think that he would not have been 
 held back, with an anxious army, by the rear guard of a 
 beaten and flying foe. I do not think I am an enthusiast 
 in my confidence in Gen. Hooker. He was defeated at 
 Chancellorsville, but he was defeated, not by the enemy, 
 but by circumstances, against which no man could have 
 provided, and by the mismanagement of his own Gener- 
 als. When Lee started on his invasion into Maryland, it 
 is said that Hooker did not know his plans, but he did a 
 good deal better than any one else, and provided against 
 them. In the first place, Lee sent Ewell up into the 
 Shenandoah Valley, and at the same time pretended to be 
 withdrawing all his forces from the Heights of F redericks- 
 burg. He also started Longstreet northward. His object 
 was, to draw Hooker clear up to Harper’s Ferry, thus 
 compelling him to uncover Washington. Then A. P. 
 Hill with the main division of the rebels, which was still 
 behind the Heights, was to come up in Hooker’s rear, and 
 make a dash upon our capital. Gen. Hooker saw this, 
 and hence his tardiness in evacuating the Rappahannock. 
 He found out that the whole of the rebel army had not 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 99 
 
 set out towards the north, and that Hill was there alone. 
 He then asked permission to cross the Rappahannock, 
 after having sent the 12th corps up to Fairfax Court 
 House, to cover Washington, saying that he could fight 
 Gen. Hill and scatter his division to the winds, and then 
 move his army up, so as to protect the capital, before 
 Ewell and Longstreet could get to it by the way of Shen- 
 andoah Valley. But Gen. Halleck forbade him. He 
 then moved the whole army, with a rapidity unparallelled 
 in the history of this war, up and around Fairfax Court 
 House, and halted for a few days. This act, for which he 
 has been censured so much, defeated the plans of Lee, 
 and compelled him to do as he did. It was not the orig- 
 inal plan of Gen. Lee to invade Pennsylvania, but to draw 
 Hooker from the covering of Washington, and to throw 
 one of his divisions upon Alexandria, and our capital. 
 Hence Gen. Hooker was obliged to wait at Fairfax, until 
 all the rebel army had passed up, by the gaps, which 
 opened from the Shenandoah Valley, into the very door- 
 yard of Washington. 
 
 When he had defeated their plans, and saw that they 
 had jumped upon the alternative of making a general 
 move into Pennsylvania, he organized our campaign, the 
 one upon which we acted, the one in which we were vic- 
 torious. That campaign Gen. Hooker, conceived and or- 
 ganized, five days before Gen. Meade took command of 
 the Army of the Potomac. Who then deserves the 
 praise ? After he had done this, he ordered the evacua- 
 tion of Harper’s Ferry, deeming that place of no use to 
 us, while the forces there would swell our small army to 
 proportions equal to meet the superior numbers of the in- 
 vading host. But this order was revoked by Gen. Hal- 
 leck, who said it would not do to evacuate that place 
 which had cost us so much, and that he regarded it as the 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OP 
 
 100 
 
 “key to our present and future success.” Gen. Hooker 
 responded, “What is the key worth after the door has 
 been smashed in ?” Other orders of his were disregarded 
 and he asked to be relieved. You will notice that they 
 afterwards saw the wisdom of his plan, when they, them- 
 selves ordered the evacuation of the same place. Hooker 
 made the remark, that, “While in command he had to 
 fight twenty-two hours out of the twenty-four, while the 
 enemy had to fight but two hours in the same time.” — 
 That shows who is responsible for the moves of this great 
 army. 
 
 Well, Charlie, I had begun to think that the light of 
 day was about to dawn upon our country again, but when 
 I see those dark clouds rising up from the North, and 
 spreading so fast over the country, I hardly know what to 
 think. I am prepared for the worst and hope for the 
 best. I could hardly have been made to believe that our 
 Government would ever have been obliged to take regi- 
 ments from the small and weak army to force Northern 
 Americans out into the field to defend their imperilled 
 country. Yet such is the case. To-day two regiments 
 from this division were sent to New York for that pur- 
 pose. We have fallen upon sad times indeed, and al- 
 though sad, I still hope they will be blessed. I think 
 those riotous manifestations will help the rebellion very 
 much. 
 
 You may think I have changed my views since my last 
 letter. I have, I will admit. But then I had not heard 
 that the spirit of resistance prevailed so freely, and that 
 it received so much countenance from the chief officials of 
 the State. 
 
 We are finely located at present within a quarter of a 
 mile of Warrenton. This is the very finest town I have 
 yet seen in Virginia, the great seat of aristocracy, wealth 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 101 
 
 and what is called Southern refinement. It is a place, I 
 should think, of six thousand inhabitants, all bitter se- 
 cessionists and absorbed, heart and money, in the rebel- 
 lion. Of course no business is done here but by Govern- 
 ment authorities, all the stores and manufactories being- 
 shut up. But few men are seen ; they are all serving 
 the rebellion, either upon the earth or below it. As we 
 wander through the streets we cannot fail to notice how 
 many of the women, who are strolling about the yards, 
 are dressed in mourning. This is an emblem of some- 
 thing worse than death — of treason. 
 
 And it is interesting to notice too, as we march through 
 the cities and villages of this State, that the many slave- 
 pens, the palaces of this modern Egypt, are all vacant, 
 all deserted, all in ruins. Nothing lingers there, but per- 
 haps the ghosts of poor slaves, tortured to death. The 
 doors are all knocked in. Moss is gathering upon the 
 sill. Daylight gleams into the furtherest recesses. We 
 see no weeping inmates gazing wistfully through the iron 
 grates. These are the lessons of this war, the death sen- 
 tence ot slavery. So you see they are not all written in 
 blood. Even now, slavery in this State, is but a shadow 
 of its former self, and even that shall not darken our 
 country’s history much longer. What tew slaves are left, 
 are rapidly coming into our lines to seek the blessing of 
 manhood beneath the AEgis of American Liberty. The more 
 I see of the negro race, the better is my opinion of him. 
 They certainly possess many superior traits, and under 
 the sunshine of liberal civilization, will yet attain to 
 a higher circle in the family of man. I do not know 
 how long we shall remain here. I see no signs of moving 
 yet. Since I have been here, I have had to work pretty 
 hard, as we have had no chance to do anything in com- 
 pany business, since we started from the Rappahannock. 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 102 
 
 I have had to make out the pay rolls, and two quarterly 
 returns, and settle up all the clothing account for the last 
 quarter, which gave me all I wanted to do. Hereafter I 
 hope to have more time to write home. I wish you were 
 with me now, hut as we are liable to move at any time, I 
 do not know as I could ask you to try again, fearing you 
 may meet with some ill-luck as before, especially as the 
 time is so short, between now and the proud time when 
 you will go to college. Let me encourage you, to never 
 falter in your course, never yield to any of the allurements 
 that will continually beset your pathway, but push on to 
 goal and a great reward will be your prize. But, Char- 
 ley, I must close, and you must excuse the many short- 
 comings of this letter, as I am somewhat tired from other 
 duties. I have not been able to give it much interest. I 
 wish I could say more to cheer and encourage you. Give 
 my love to all, and for me, ask each and every one, to 
 remember me and write to me often. My thoughts go 
 out to them every day and every hour, and nights as I 
 sleep soundly upon the ground, ten-thousand busy fan- 
 cies, bring their images to my mind. Bemember me to 
 all the good neighbors and accept this from 
 Your Brother 
 
 Clarke. 
 
 It will be seen by this that I had been disappointed in my proposed 
 visit to the 121st. I staid in Washington two or three days, but as the 
 battle of Getty sburgh was going on, no passes were granted, so I turned 
 back with a heavy heart. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 103 
 
 0^?* The following is the last letter ever received hy our parents, and 
 breathes forth that heart-felt devotion toward his dearest friends, which 
 always marked his associations with them : 
 
 Camp op the 121st, near New Baltimore, 
 August 15th, 1863. 
 
 My Dear Parents : 
 
 It is with much happiness, that I find myself possessed 
 of another favorable opportunity to write you a few lines- 
 Sometimes, after I have waited very anxiously for a long 
 time to hear from you, and when it seemed that you were 
 fast forgetting me, and cared hut little to keep that social 
 correspondence, which has been such a fruitful source of 
 joy to me, I have almost made up my mind that I would 
 retaliate for what I deem so hard in you, by not writing 
 to you again till I heard from you. Butsueh retaliatory 
 feelings so full of wrong would soon pass away, and every 
 time they have come and gone, I have deemed my duty 
 to write to you, often doubly strong. Every thought of 
 you (and they are frequent amid my many cares,) which 
 every day crowd upon my brain, seems to bring to mind 
 a hundred tokens of your ever constant care and kind- 
 ness, a hundred scenes, in which I have played the pleas- 
 antest sports of life, a hundred sacred images, with which 
 I have associated during so many happy hours of my life 
 around your warm fireside, and beneath your broad and 
 protecting roof. And when I sit down to write you a let- 
 ter, it seems as though I am at home, and all the famil- 
 iar habits and customs of our past domestic life are pass- 
 ing before me, like a train of breathing household idols. 
 I feel as though I am really conversing with you, face to 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 104 
 
 face, in the olcl cheerful kitchen, as I was wont to do, in 
 days gone by. So, knowing as you do, how well I used 
 to like to sit down by a warm fire in that good old room, 
 and talk with you concerning the current topics, and con- 
 troverted questions of the day, you can realize somewhat 
 of the substantial pleasure I enjoy, when for a little time 
 I lay aside the duties of camp, banish from my sight the 
 steel armor and the bloody visage of fraternal war, and 
 write you a few of the thoughts which spring up in my 
 mind. It is Saturday night again, and darkness is fast 
 falling upon us. The bustle and hum have not ceased in 
 the camp. More than a hundred persons are frolicking 
 up and down the cool shaded streets. More than a hun- 
 dred merry voices sing out upon the vesper air, each a 
 part of the grand chorus of camp music in the army. — 
 All are contented, as they never were before. All are 
 light-hearted as they never were before. A common hap- 
 piness seems to pervade all hearts, and a divine light 
 seems to shed its effulgence upon their common pathway. 
 Heaven grant that they may ever feel so contented, so 
 cheerful, so proud, so strong, and so happy ! Last Tues- 
 day our regiment returned from a short raid, the purpose 
 of which was, as the Colonel called it, a measure to carry 
 Jefferson Davis’ Conscript Act into effect. I suppose you 
 are well aware of the effort on the part of the Confederate 
 President, to impress all men, able to bear arms, into the 
 ranks of his shattered army. We left camp on Friday 
 morning about 4 o’clock, and marched to White Plains, 
 a distance of about ten miles— a village, which, since our 
 army left it in the rear, has been one of the central ren- 
 dezvous of guerrillas, from which they have constantly 
 prayed upon our outposts, and the weak parts of our line. 
 We made our way very cautiously to the town, hoping 
 to catch some of those fiends. But in this we were dis- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 105 
 
 appointed, by their having apprehended our approach, 
 
 1 and having made safe their hasty retreat. Nevertheless, 
 the village was thrown into great consternation and con- 
 fusion, as we marched down into it, and stacked arms in 
 its most public place. Notes were immediately sent to 
 the leading families in town that a certain number of 
 Union officers’ would he there for dinner and supper. — 
 Notwithstanding the 'intense enmity that they universally 
 cherished toward . us, we were very cordially received, and 
 bountifully served with the very best they had in their 
 possession. During the day we had a good opportunity 
 to converse with the citizens, and learn the general feel- 
 ing; with regard to the war, and the issues involved. — 
 What we learned in that little village, has been confirmed 
 by every experience we have had in our wanderings through 
 Virginia. There were hut very few men indeed in town, 
 hut the tew all express the common sentiment, that they 
 wished the war was at an end, and that they were willing 
 to come under the old stars and stripes, as loyal citizens, 
 and to lift their right arms, in defence of the Union and 
 the Government which our fathers gave us. But a differ- 
 ent feeling exists among the women. They are univer- 
 sally in sympathy with the rebellion, and cherish the most 
 hitter feelings toward our cause — its helpers, and its fol- 
 lowers. Indeed they are perfect fanatics in their devotion 
 to their unholy cause, and I believe that their zeal, and 
 their words, are the greatest stimulus a rebel soldier has. 
 They will tell us that they urge their brothers and their 
 sons to fight till the last Yankee bites the dust — until 
 their flag shall wave triumphantly over the ruins of the 
 Union. Their zeal, so mad, knows no limitation, and 
 their last dollar is ready for the cause. Of course, I do 
 not fear that they will ever receive any return for their 
 devotion, unless it be the harvest of retribution which 
 14 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 106 
 
 this war is fast maturing for them. But, we can hut ad- 
 mire the single heartedness, the sleepless anxiety, the un- 
 tiring devotedness, the constant hopefulness, which to-day, 
 are the active forces in the lives of the women of the 
 South. Surely the spirit, which they have exercised 
 throughout this struggle, contrasts greatly with that 
 which our own women of the North have spread abroad 
 over the country and the army. I believe that many 
 sons of the North are home to-day, living ingloriously, 
 under the heavy clouds which overhang the nation, who 
 would have come forth long ago into the tented field, 
 had they not been discouraged and dissuaded hy their 
 mothers and their sisters. This is not true in the South. 
 It is strange to notice that, while they regard us as dead- 
 ly enemies, and attribute to us all the horrid proportions 
 of the invader, crusader and destroyer, they have not 
 smothered any of the feelings of kindness, of mercy, of 
 justice, and of charity, which the hreath of Deity first 
 awakened in each and every heart, to be the common, 
 immortal gravitation of the human race. The fires of 
 human sympathy still brightly burn upon the altar of 
 their hearts, and while they would hurl a doom upon us 
 as soldiers, they invoke a blessing upon us as men, and 
 fellow-creatures. While we were at White Plains, I 
 suffered very severely with the ear-ache. Finally, I went 
 to one of the houses, and — (I guess you will excuse me 
 for sending such a looking letter ; you will see with what 
 convenience we soldiers write. I was writing out doors, 
 and a sudden, fitful gust of wind blew away my paper, 
 and tipped over the ink bottle). I believe I was speaking 
 about my ear-ache. I told the inmates how I was afflict- 
 ed, and they immediately set themselves to work, in get- 
 ting up expedients for my relief. They seemed deeply 
 concerned. I could not have been cared for more at home. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 107 
 
 Yet these people were the most inveterate secessionists, 
 and hesitated not to say that they hoped that every 
 northern Soldier, who has invaded their sacred soil, would 
 forfeit his life in what they called ,£ The Unholy Crusade.” 
 Notwithstanding their treason, and their ambition for 
 ruin and blood, they are hospitable, generous and kind. 
 At night we started out and marched till morning, search- 
 ing every house on the road. We were in hopes of find- 
 ing some of Moseby’s men. We arrived at Middleburg 
 just at daylight. The town is about as large as Newport. 
 We surrounded it in the first place, and searched every 
 house. We took the people wholly by surprise, and they 
 evinced much indignation at our independent, but per- 
 fectly courteous career through the village. By the time 
 that we had made the circuit around to our camp again, 
 we had taken five of Moseby’s men, twelve citizens who 
 would come under Davis’ call, and about 80 horses. One 
 day the Colonel sent me with fifteen men, to scour the 
 country out on the right flank. I understood his orders, 
 and by noon, when I returned to the main body of the 
 regiment in the road, we all had good horses to ride, and 
 four prisoners that we had taken. The ' Colonel seemed 
 quite well pleased. Though we did not succeed in cap- 
 turing Moseby and his command, yet we felt assured 
 that we gave him a pretty good scare, and a right smart 
 chase. At least we got them in pretty close quarters, 
 and their skulking here and there through the woods 
 showed pretty well that they felt in no way secure. 
 
 While we were moving down the road from Middleburg 
 to Salem, the Colonel saw four horsemen coming up from 
 another direction, and making their way to a large stone 
 house off in the field ahead of us. The Colonel told me 
 to take some men, and going up through the ravine, to 
 deploy around in the rear of the house, and then close in 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 108 
 
 on it from all directions. But by the time I arrived there 
 the horsemen had gone off on a gallop down another road, 
 and I only arrived in time to see them fleeing over the 
 hills beyond. There were none hut women at the house, 
 who manifestly were greatly frightened and embarassed. 
 I asked them who those horsemen were who had been 
 there. They said no one had been there. This I knew 
 to be false. I asked them where they had gone, and they 
 convicted themselves by trying to tell' me where they had 
 gone. There were several negro women around, all very 
 intelligent, and as true to our cause as they are free by 
 the Law of God. One of them followed us to the milk- 
 house, and while giving us some milk, assured us that the 
 horsemen of whom I had spoken, were Mosby himself and 
 some of his men ; that he had been around there several 
 days, and that she hoped we might capture him and bring 
 upon his unholy head the doom which he had executed 
 upon many of our poor soldiers. The weather at present 
 is excessively hot, yet we have become so accustomed to 
 it, that we get along very well. The general health of 
 the Regiment, is, very good. Only one death has occurred 
 from sickness since we broke camp at White Oak Church. 
 It is uncertain how long we shall remain here, probably 
 not a great while. Day before yesterday we were ordered 
 to be in readiness to move at any time. Rumor then said 
 that we were going to Charleston. I almost hope it is 
 true. Who can ask for a prouder hour, than that which 
 shall behold the fall of that great citadel of Rebellion, the 
 Babylon of the Western world. As that city rocked 
 this rebellion in its infancy, so may its ruins be made to 
 cover the carcass of the monster it nurtured into life. — 
 There may not be much probability in this report, so you 
 need not be surprised either way. We are in a very pleas- 
 ant place now, but still we get uneasy in the army if we 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 109 
 
 do not move around, and are not in tire midst of excite- 
 ment. We were paid off a few days ago, for May and 
 June. Enclosed I send you a draft for $130, which you 
 can use as you deem proper. I should have sent more 
 hut I bought a watch, (which I very much needed) and 
 have not been paid all due me* from other officers. We 
 shall probably be paid again in the early part of next 
 month. It costs considerable for us to live, as provisions 
 and clothes cost pretty well, but I have tried to use as 
 much economy as possible, in order to save as much as I 
 can for my future wants and exigiences. I think I save 
 as much as any one in the Kegitnent, and hence I feel 
 pretty well satisfied. I have never lost sight for a mo- 
 ment, of the course I had laid out for my future life, nor 
 have I ever felt like throwing up any of my plans, and 
 embarking upon a new career in the world. I have be- 
 come convinced, that we can never make much of a mark 
 upon a century, without we work diligently and constant- 
 ly, and I am in hopes that I, at least, can fulfill my mis- 
 sion, if I employ all the golden hours and opportunities 
 that pass by the door of every man’s home. I wish you 
 would have Charley send me a few stamps. It is im- 
 possible to get them here. I have not yet received from 
 Eleazer, an answer to my last letter. I hope he has not 
 forgotten me entirely. Let me urge you and Charley 
 too, to write as often as you can ; also Caroline and 
 Nancy and the children. I wish some of the good neigh- 
 hors would write to me occasionally. Nothing would give 
 me more pleasure, than to hear from them directly and to 
 answer them. I know I agree with a great many of them 
 upon the great issues of the day, and if I am worthy of 
 their consideration, I hope our friendly intercourse and 
 relations may not be broken or lost. Hoping to hear 
 from you soon again I will close. 
 
 Clarke. 
 
110 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 / 
 
 Camp of the 121st, New Baltimore, Va., ) 
 August 22d, 1863. j 
 
 My Dear Brother Daniel : 
 
 It is the eventide of a warm, beautiful summer after- 
 noon, and as the quiet shades have been gathering around 
 us, and the noise and bustle of the departing day have 
 been dying away upon the vesper air, I have been sitting 
 alone, in my little tented home, anxiously wondering what 
 you may be doing ; by what circumstances and associa- 
 tions you may be surrounded ; what prospects are before 
 you ; how the selfish world and its people deal with you ; 
 what emotions are swelling up in your warm and gener- 
 ous breast, (happy, I hope) ; and above all, I have l sen 
 wishing, longing, that I might get a letter from you, tell- 
 ing me you are well and in good spirits. And as I have 
 been thinking this, the fear which has often lurked in my 
 mind of late, that you did not receive my last letter, has 
 swollen itself almost into a conviction, and as I have a 
 short time at my disposal, it is with a heart full of rap- 
 ture and alacrity, that I sit down to write to you again. 
 0 ! Daniel, you will never realize what real pleasure, what 
 substantial joy, what unbounded satisfaction and pride, 
 the wliite-winged spirit of your letter brought to my sol- 
 dier home. It was written when the snow lay upon the 
 ground like a heavy mantle, and the dry, dead leaves lay 
 beneath as the faded robe which time throws off here and 
 and there, and the chilly winds were sighing through 
 the pines, as though they were breathing the dirge for 
 some departed friend. But in the midst of this somber 
 season, this annual gloom, your letter, so kind, so noble, 
 well composed, came to me like a swift- winged messenger 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 from a summer land, whispering in tones of sweetest mu- 
 sic, breathing the incense of choicest roses, and weaving 
 summer sunshine all around. Many a time have I read 
 it, and the more I read it, the better it sounds. Don’t 
 think me extravagant. I know I only appreciate its real 
 merit. It is the outpouring of a warm and generous soul, 
 the music from heart chords swept by divine fingers, and 
 partakes not of the studied art, of the cold selfishness, of 
 the dead formality, which appear so extensively in the 
 intercourse, and relation of modern society. I hate to 
 wait so long. I anxiously hope and wish to hear from you 
 often, and yet, I think I can afford to wait half a year, for 
 such worthy letters. It is worth a thousand of the chaf- 
 fy, soulless letters, which generally pass between friends 
 and relatives. Daniel, I tell you, a great many changes 
 have taken place since I wrote to you before. The cur- 
 rent of events has swept on like a river in a storm. The 
 conflict in which we are engaged, has raged with awful 
 fury, assumed many different aspects, and, I think, has 
 passed the crisis hour of its progress and its destiny. Bat- 
 tles have been fought as never before. The army of trea- 
 son turned its columns Northward, and the dark tide of 
 invasion has swept over loyal soil. But it was like the 
 last surge of a sinking sea ; the gasping breath of a hope- 
 less and dying cause. The rebel army was diiven to des- 
 peration. They saw the shackles of the Mississippi break- 
 ing away. They saw the army of the Cumberland about 
 to move on to Chattanooga. They saw the huge coils of 
 the Government’s power, slowly but surely closing around 
 them, and their last and only chance, was to bound from 
 these tightening environs, and seek, as a forlorn hope, to 
 establish a new foot-hold, upon soil not yet desecrated. 
 
 And though they did make the frightful plunge, though 
 they did sweep the line, with which we opposed them, 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 112 
 
 though they did unfurl the base emblem of their nation- 
 ality to the free winds of the north, yet that emblem soon 
 trailed in the dust, the columns of that army tottered 
 and scattered at Gettysburg, as if swept by the dark wings 
 of an avenging angel, and crest-fallen, powerless, and de- 
 moralized, it fell back, covered with more shame and hu- 
 miliation than did the army of Napolean from Moscow 
 in ashes, and the ice-bound regions of the north. I wish 
 I could describe to you our pilgrimage, and all its attend- 
 ing scenes, from the Rappahannock, up to Edward’s 
 Ferry, thence to Gettysburg, and back almost to the 
 Rappahannock again. But it would till a large book — 
 that is, a connected, detailed account of our experience. 
 Of course you have heard that we were in the battles of 
 Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, on the 2d, 3d and 
 4th of May. We are in Sedgwick’s corps you will re- 
 member, and his command suffered most heavily of all. 
 We were under pretty sharp artillery fire for four or five 
 days, but did not suffer much from that. We were part 
 of the line that moved upon the hights, and carried them 
 on the morning of the third. You cannot imagine how 
 good the old Stars and Stripes appeared ; what a current 
 of enthusiasm, and of national pride, thrilled the breast 
 of every soldier, when we saw them wave triumphantly 
 over the hights, which had frowned the great army down, 
 for five long weary months. But the day’s work was not 
 yet half done. The rebel forces flew so hurriedly and in 
 such confusion, that all were convinced that they were 
 on the full retreat. But in this we were mistaken. They 
 only fell back to their second line of defence, and when 
 we followed on in quick pursuit, a doom hung over us, 
 which sealed the fate of many a poor soldier boy, and cast 
 a shadow over many a home. Our forces were repulsed 
 with a terrible loss, our regiment losing 273 men, killed, 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 113 
 
 wounded and missing. Capt. Thomas Arnold was kill- 
 ed ; also Fred. Ford, son of Albert Ford. The next 
 day the whole of the* rebel army turned upon our corps, 
 and advanced upon its, from three sides, hut we managed 
 to repel them till dark, when we beat a hasty retreat to 
 the river and began to cross. The rebels hung close 
 upon our heels, and had it not been for the deep dark- 
 ness, destruction would certainly have been our lot. Ours 
 was the last regiment to cross the river, as we had cover- 
 ed the retreat. The daylight was just about to break 
 when we got over and took up the pontoons. You can 
 imagine our awful anxiety, as the morning hours began 
 to approach. That was the most horrid night I ever ex- 
 perienced. I would give you more particulars about this, 
 one of the very greatest battles of history, but I presume 
 you have read all about it, long ere this. Our campaign 
 into Maryland and Pennsylvania was one of the most ex- 
 tensive and massive anywhere to be found in the annals 
 of war. The army made some awful marches, especially 
 the 6th, Sedgwick’s corps, as it constituted the ex- 
 treme right of the army. We often marched all 
 day and night, during the hottest, and most dusty season 
 of the year. And yet it was done with the most willing 
 spirits by the patriot soldiers. The battle of Gettys- 
 burg began on the first day of J uly. At night of that 
 day our corps was at Manchester, thirty-five miles from 
 the scene of action. At eight o’clock that very night 
 we took up the line of march. We traveled all night, 
 without food or rest, and kept on till 2 o’clock the next 
 day, when we stopped an hour and a half, to get coffee., 
 By 4 o’clock we were on the field of battle, and were only 
 just in time to save the most important position in our line, 
 and to decide the issue of that bloody battle. I think you 
 will have to look in vain, for records of heavier marching?. 
 
 7 O 
 
LETTERS AND AVRITINGS OF 
 
 114 
 
 We followed up the retreating army, till it crossed the 
 Potomac, and fled down the Shenandoah Yalley. It seems 
 as though Ave ought to have destroyed the enemy, before 
 he had crossed the river, but it is hard to fix the blame 
 for not doing it upon any one. Had our Generals known 
 what they afterwards learned, they certainly would have 
 done very differently. But from a year’s experience in 
 the army, I have learned that we are in duty bound to 
 exercise a good deal of charity towards our Generals. — 
 For it is very much easier to handle a great army upon 
 an imaginary board, then upon the field of battle, especial- 
 ly in the enemy’s country, and under the most untoward 
 circumstances. At present, this army is lying in camp, 
 and probably will make no material ■change in its position 
 until filled up with conscripts. And then I hardly look 
 for a forward move by the Potomac army. The future 
 policy of the war seems to be for Gen. Meade to keep 
 Lee in check, and to defend the National Capital, while 
 the armies in the south and south-west overthrow the 
 strongholds in their Avay, subjugate the country, and move 
 northward by gradual approaches toward Richmond, the 
 center and base of the rotten Confederacy. This seems 
 like a most excellent course to drive on the war horse, 
 until he shall trample the last vestige of rebellion into 
 the ground. Surely the cause of the Union looks very 
 fair and promising, since the victories of Vicksburg, Port. 
 Hudson, Gettysburg, and Helena have perched upon its 
 banner. The tables have been turned ; the dark night of 
 disaster and gloom is passing away ; the bow of promise 
 bends over the land, and the time is not very far distant 
 when we shall have a united people again, strong in unity, 
 happy in fraternity, prosperous in peace. Now, while Ave 
 are in camp, our duties are quite light, — only drilling two 
 or three hours a day and having dress parade and inspec- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 115 
 
 tion, two or three times a week. We live in little shelter 
 tents, — that is homes made of four or five pieces of cotton 
 cloth, about the size of a bed sheet. By building up lit- 
 tle frames with posts, hoards, or rails, and using these 
 tents for roofs, we have quite comfortable quarters. When 
 the army gets into winter, or permanent quarters, all the 
 officers have large tents twelve by fifteen feet across. — 
 These are- quite convenient. Each officer is entitled to 
 one enlisted man, to cook for him, and who is excused 
 from all other duty. On the march, we have pack mules 
 to carry our blankets, tents, and all that we need to have 
 with us on a campaign. All the necessaries of life, are 
 furnished us by the commissary department, and at very 
 reasonable prices. Sutlers bring in many of the luxuries, 
 so we are enabled to live very well indeed. Col. Upton 
 has been commanding the brigade for some time, but Gen. 
 Bartlett, coming back again for a few days, places him 
 again at the head of the regiment. He has the finest 
 prospects as a military man, and unless his life is beset 
 by more than the ordinary misfortunes of man, he will 
 yet occupy an exalted position, as he does now in fact, in 
 the esteem of all who know him. 
 
 I think there are very few now in the regiment with 
 whom you are acquainted. I dont know of any but 
 Ward Rice and Luzerne Todd, or “Sam/' as we used 
 to call him in school boy days. They are both well, and 
 make good soldiers. Cameron, once with us as Lieut., 
 has gone the way prepared for the living. Wilbur Lam- 
 berson is also dead. * * * * 
 
 I am now 1st Lieut. ; was transferred to Co. F on the 
 14th day of May, which company I have had the honor 
 of commanding ever since. Without wishing to brag, I 
 will tell you what may seem rather egotistical : that I 
 have as good looking a company, and under as good disci- 
 
116 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 pline, and drill, as any in the regiment. My name has 
 been forwarded by the Colonel to Gov. Seymour, for a 
 commission as Captain. I shall not get it until the regi- 
 ment is filled up, which will not he long hence, as there 
 can he no promotions till then. My pay is now §115 
 per month, and ten dollars extra, for commanding 
 the company. So I have some chance to lay up some- 
 thing as a base for my future wants, and future operations. 
 You asked me my plans. I still adhere to my purpose, 
 to get a good education and then study law. I shall try 
 to aim high in life, hut I shall not he awlully disappoint- 
 ed if I do not hit the mark. Nevertheless, I am hopeful 
 of making something of a mark upon the period in which 
 I live. There is nothing in the world that I like as well 
 as public speaking. There is no profeesion, in which I 
 would like to gain a reputation, as well as in law. I have 
 had a little practice in the former, I know not how I 
 shall get along in the latter. Nothing would give me 
 more pleasure than to go to California, if you and George 
 stay there. I feel assured that some western country can 
 offer better inducements to a young man than the east. 
 
 I hear from home quite often, and they always speak 
 of you and George, and you cannot think what an anx- 
 iety they have for you. I wish you would come home 
 and see our family. It would do father and mother 
 so much good, now, as they are gliding so swiftly down 
 the decline of life. May God bless those good parents, 
 and all my brothers and sisters ! 
 
 Now, Daniel, I must close, but 0 ! with what reluc- 
 tance! It seems as though I had been talking with you. 
 May the grace of heaven ever rest upon you, and wherever 
 on this broad earth you may roam, may your happiness 
 he as deep as the sea, and your heart as light as the foam. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 117 
 
 Remember me kindly to all friends at home, and now 
 farewell. 
 
 From Clarke. 
 
 P. S. — Give my sincere love to George. Ask him to 
 write often. I have not heard from him in a long while. 
 I will write to him in a few days. I fear you cannot get 
 much sense from this letter, for as I am officer of the day, 
 I have been continually interrupted, and obliged to write 
 in haste. C. 
 
118 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OFJ 
 
 SISS EAST EETTER. 
 
 Camp of the 121st, N. Y. Y., New I 
 Baltimore, Ya., Aug. 31, 1863. j 
 
 My Dea.r Sister : 
 
 I have been waiting a long time, in the hope of hearing 
 from you. It seems as though you ought to write to me, 
 at least once a week. I feel assured that you take inter- 
 est enough in my welfare to prompt you to write thus 
 often, and whenever an unlucky week passes without 
 bringing me a letter, I never feel like attributing it to 
 any needless neglect on your part, but am made to depre- 
 cate the unfortunate circumstances, that, as by the decree 
 of Fate, turned your noble efforts elsewhere. It would 
 be ingratitude,- indeed, and skepticism, the most unright- 
 eous, for me to cherish any feelings of distrust, as to the 
 constancy, with which your thoughts have followed me 
 in my soldier’s career, and as to the anxiety with which 
 you watched for my fortunes, and my destiny. I feel no 
 better assured of anything in the world, than that your 
 sympathy and friendship for me are as deep as a noble 
 sister’s heart, and that your solicitation for my safety and 
 success, is as steadfast, as restless as the current of our 
 lives. Your letters are so full of love, of friendship, of 
 solicitude, of charity, and of sympathy, life’s eleptricity, 
 and mutual force, that they seem to impart to me, for 
 the time at least, a new, a better, and a stronger life, and 
 more of the graces and the beauties of the human soul. 
 And thus it gives me so much satisfaction, so much joy, 
 to receive a letter from you, and so much disappointment 
 and sorrow, to see the mail come night after night, and 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 119 
 
 as it comes, it is distributed among the eager throng, with 
 none, none for me ! 0 ! how great is the fall from the 
 
 halo-wreathed altitude of Hope, down to the dim, shadowy 
 sink of disappointment. At morning man’s hopes, and 
 anticipations, and aspirations, begin to twine around, 
 and climb up the golden pillar of the hours, as if to bloom 
 eternally upon the noon-day, hut at night, the chilly 
 dampness comes, and they droop downward to the base, 
 like frost-bitten vines in Autumn. In the morning, hope 
 comes laughing to our doors, to bid us come forth into 
 the day, but at night he goes away weeping, and like a 
 gray haired man, surely tottering to the grave. Don’t 
 think me complaining of the circumstances, and accidents, 
 and chances, and destiny, in which a benign Providence 
 has enshrouded the lot and the life of man. 0, no ! I 
 can not complain, until I think myself able to conceive, 
 or institute a better economy, and how wicked and blas- 
 phemous it would be, for mortal man to think to improve 
 upon the universal idea and system of the Infinite. I 
 know I am always liable to paint the picture of life in 
 rather too shady colors, and you will ever make allowances 
 in me, for any affected melancholy. 
 
 As you will see by the heading of this letter, we are 
 still at New Baltimore, and on the same duty — the duty 
 of protecting the extreme right wing of the army of the 
 Potomac. The location of New Baltimore, as you will 
 see by reference to the map,* is in the valley, but a few 
 miles from the base of the Blue Ridge, and but a few 
 miles from Ashby’s and Snicker’s Gaps — nature’s great 
 gateways through the mountains into the blooming para- 
 dise of the Shenandoah Valley. The enemy holds these 
 gaps ; also all the valley beyond. So you will see, the 
 army’s safety depends, a very great deal, upon our brig- 
 ade, as our moving, in case of an attack, would enable it 
 
120 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 to get into position before the enemy could possibly get 
 to us, in very strong force. Before the war broke out 
 this was the most wealthy, and prosperous section of 
 Virginia. But since that evil day, it has been swept and 
 cursed, as if it had been the chosen victim of divine retri- 
 bution. It has been the great highway, on which both 
 armies have moved backwards and forwards ; the great 
 common, on which the two mighty forces have met, and 
 by hardest fighting, have contended for the success of their 
 principles and purposes. Of course, nothing is left but 
 a wreck of its former self. It is like a wilderness, where 
 once an Eden bloomed ; even as bad as an Egyptian des- 
 olation, upon the sacred banks of the Euphrates. Were 
 it not for the presence of the army here, it would be as 
 quiet as a New England Sabbath, as lonely as a deserted 
 village, in the Old World. Only think of a country swept 
 of its fences, the fields changed to desolate wastes, the 
 well-sweeps broken, the gardens turned into commons, 
 and no husbandmen to awaken the glad echoes of the 
 woods, and the nymphs themselves hidden under the 
 rocks. No cattle are pasturing in the valleys. No sheep 
 are climbing the hill-sides. No horse’s hoof is heard upon 
 the highway. Alas ! this is haughty, proud Virginia, in 
 her trial, her sorrow, and her humility. Oh ! an evil 
 day was that for the Old Dominion, when she hauled 
 down the flag of our fathers, and raised her unrighteous arm 
 against the Government of the land. Truly, indeed, did 
 she “sow the wind to reap the whirlwind.” Last Sunday, 
 part of the regiment led by Lieut. Col. Olcott, went out 
 on another raid, not so extensive, however, as the former 
 one, and hardly so successful, so far as it concerns horses 
 and guerrillas. We went up, and passed through Thor- 
 oughfare Gap, a place quite historic now, and I pre- 
 sume you have often read of it. It was through this Gap, 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 121 
 
 that Gen. Johnston passed when lie reinforced the rebels 
 at the time of the first Bull Run battle, and thus turned 
 the issue of that memorable fight against us. This Gap 
 is but a few miles from that historic battle ground. Had 
 Gen. Patterson done his duty and headed off J ohnston 
 at that Pass, which he could have done easily enough, as 
 it is aD American Thermopylae, we would have been suc- 
 cessful, and this rebellion would ’have been suppressed 
 long before this. Our purpose in this raid, was to see if 
 we could not capture any of the guerrillas, which still are 
 hovering around us, like vultures over their anticipated 
 prey. In this we were not successful, but we had a glor- 
 ious time, I can assure you. We stopped at many of the 
 houses, many of the once luxuriant homes of the aristoc- 
 racy and wealthy, and it was amusing to hear the women 
 spit forth their bitterness upon us crusaders, as they were 
 pleased to call us. But by being moderate we could al- 
 ways cool them down before we left, and at last make them 
 acknowledge that they wished the war would close. 
 
 The health of the regiment is very good indeed, and 
 finer spirits never .prevailed. We drill some every day, 
 and time passes very pleasantly, as well as rapidly. I 
 really wish 1 could go home while Caroline is there. I 
 hardly dare hope to get away this fall. But I assure you 
 I will not let an opportunity pass. You need not fear 
 that I will go home and not see you. I hope to see the 
 last battle of this war fought this autumn, so that an 
 honorable and permanent peace may be fixed upon before 
 spring. The signs are bright. I must close, Nancy. 
 Write as often as you can and accept this with much af- 
 fection From 
 
 Clarke. 
 
 The above was the last word received from Clarke by letter. It 
 seems to have been written in a sad, lonely mood, as though he almost 
 
 16 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 122 
 
 felt he was bidding us good-bye forever. Oh, little did he think, when 
 he said “he would like to come home while our dear sister who had been 
 absent so long, was there,” that in a few short weeks, he would indeed 
 go home forever. Yes, to his eternal home. 
 
 No one but those that have been absent from home many months know 
 how sad it makes anyone feel to have the mails come day after day, and 
 nothing from home, no news from the dear ones that are gathered around 
 the family hearth. No wonder that he felt sad. Ah, you that have 
 soldier friends, do not forget to write to them often, encourage them and 
 give them your deepest love, and be assured that it will be seed sown 
 upon good soil. 
 
 We were in the habit of writing to Clarke once and twice a week but 
 the army was so in motion that sometimes letters would not reach him. 
 Hence his depression of spirits. In fact, I think we never received a let- 
 ter from him during all the time of his service, written in such a sad 
 mood. This was one great satisfaction in reading Clarke’s letters, that 
 they were always so full of hope and devotion to the cause of the coun- 
 try. We always felt ashamed after reading his letters, for indulging in 
 the slightest suspicion of the failure of the government to overthrow the 
 rebellion, when her soldiers seemed so determined in the cause for which 
 they fought. 
 
 The preceding was the last of Clarke’s letters. AVe have arranged 
 them in the order of their receipt. We have selected a few of his orations 
 written while in school at Fairfield. Let it be remembered that wehave 
 not collected these writings for the benefit of anyone except ourselves. 
 And if some critic in looking them over should see many faults both in 
 style and sentiment, let him understand that if divested of this originality 
 characterizing them we could not see Clarke’s image in everjr page and 
 line as we do now. AVe want to think of Cla-rke just as he was. We 
 loved him better for all his faults. He was our hope, our pride, and now 
 that he is dead and gone, we will not mutilate his memory by trying 
 to make him appear different from himself — yes ! 0 Clarke, your mem- 
 ory shall be sacred. We will prize it higher than our lives, better than 
 riches. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 123 
 
 LIFE FORCES. 
 
 A true life tide never ebbs, and never lingers here and 
 there. Its sweep is eternity, and its ramifications stretch 
 throughout creation. A single pulsation of a great heart 
 can ripple an age with the curling waves of sympathy, and 
 by a single beat, infuse the inspiration of a better life 
 through the economy of existence. Man can live an eter- 
 nity in three-score years and ten, and though but the in- 
 habitant of a lonely cot, he may preside over the destin- 
 ies of a generation and sit a master spirit in the council 
 chambers of the world. Dangers vanish before the true 
 hero’s glance, like the dim spectnes of a dream, before the 
 lightning flash of reality, and obstacles crumble under the 
 tread of a strong man, as if crushed underneath the iron 
 wheel of destiny. Though luck and chance constitute 
 the philosophy of the game of life, yet the skillful player 
 can get the trumps at every dealing, and is sure to win, 
 for he can “ play it alone,” in every strife. 
 
 Though fate presides over the logic of events, dealing 
 out lots to the fortune seekers of earth, yet there are men 
 in every age, Gods indeed, who seem to stretch out their 
 iron fingers and snatch those very fates from their high 
 places, binding them as slaves to their iron wills, and 
 making them willing agents in their schemes. Time 
 seems to be the world’s Olympic course and all man- 
 kind are racers for an appointed goal, — competitors for 
 the highest prize of life. Hark ! the world’s clock has 
 struck the third signal of the hour. Clouded dust curls 
 
124 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 in spiral columns towards the heavens, and a heavy tread 
 resounds upon the hollow. earth, like the tramp of a swift- 
 ly advancing army. The cheer of triumph, the wail of 
 discouragement, the hoarse curse of dispair, the heartless 
 laugh of ridicule, mingled in solemn chorus, float upon 
 the reluctant air. Surely the common race has begun. — 
 A generation is rushing with frightful speed down the life 
 course of the word. The shadowy forms of ten thousand 
 destinies, sit like presiding spirits over the race, and like 
 the welling messengers of old Fate, cheer on with alluring 
 hopes, the favored ones of his arbitrary will, and cast 
 subtle meshes, to entangle the forsaken victims of his dis- 
 favor. And lo ! what aspects cast their varied colors up- 
 on the world’s unerring vision, as its anxious eye watches 
 the race, and idly roams from time’s judgment seat, down 
 the curriculum of existence. Well might Justice exclaim 
 “0, cold disparity, when shalt thou be undone?” Well 
 might the, angel of meney cry, “0, iron-hearted Fate, 
 where is thy charity ?” Well might fallen Faith mur- 
 mur, “0, Nature where is thy boasted Harmony ?” Well 
 indeed might the hoary-lieaded Genius of History weep 
 with a broken heart, as she sits bv the world’s great hearth 
 stone, and with quivering lips tells the sad tale to the 
 anxious children of posterity. For although the racers 
 start forth together, at a common signal, how different 
 are the gaits with which they travel ! How distantly 
 apart are the goals they reach ! How unequal the prizes 
 they win ! How varied the tracks they leave behind them ! 
 
 Some speed down the life-course as swifty and nimbly 
 as the fleet Antelope, skipping over the plain. Others 
 decrepit with moral rheumatism, go weaving from side to 
 side, sadly limping all the way, and stumbling at every 
 stride. Soon a few representative spirits sally forth from 
 the deep embattled ranks of their generation, quickly dis- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 125 
 
 appearing in the dim distance down the winding course, 
 and their clarion shouts of triumph make the welkin ring, 
 while others, drones and idlers, 0 ! how many, are swept 
 onward in the race by the common crowd, like the idle 
 floodwood on the sweeping tide. Some take their eternal 
 rest on the highest summit that towers upward along the 
 track of life. While others, before the course is half run, 
 go tumbling down some rocky precipice, to end their bit- 
 ter days in the lower depths of remorse and woe. A few 
 win prizes worthy the royal blood of man and weave for 
 themselves the chaplets of immortal glory ; others weave 
 for themselves with their idle fingers, the dark shroud of 
 oblivion, the death-toga of the tomb. Some trace their 
 life-track as straight as if marked by a compass, and as 
 enduring as a groove chiseled in a rock. But others leave 
 a footpath, as crooked as the winding of the ripples in the 
 water, and as stayless as the worm-trail in the sand. — 
 Some men become swift racers by industrious training. — 
 Others are limping laggards by habitual idleness. Sonie 
 by ambition are willing competitors in the race. Others 
 are dreamy drones by indifference, and balky by contum- 
 acy. The few are winners, because they have a purpose 
 and a will to seek it. 
 
 The many are disconsolate losers, because they are not 
 earnest in the race ; as fickle as the idle winds, they sheer 
 off at every shadow, and falter at every turn. The life- 
 forces are the soul of earnestness, and without earnestness 
 life would be but the idle game of the chess-board, the 
 sham- drama of a theatre. Indeed, to the greater part of 
 mankind, the world seems more like a shadowy ideality, 
 than a solid reality ; time, only an everlasting night ; 
 existence, but an eternal sleep. They swoon in the fatal 
 trance of contentment. They live not this real life. They 
 dream only of a mystic one, beyond the sable screen of 
 
126 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OFj 
 
 death. Hence so many fancy this mundane sphere, hut the 
 sporting ground for time’s merry children and terrestrial 
 life hut the appointed spell of their existence. Hence the 
 earth is turned into a great lounging saloon, where stain- 
 ed window panes shut out the sunshine of nature. 
 It is dimly illumined with the flickering lights of art; 
 gilded with the shallow tinsels of pageantry and show ; 
 hung with false pictures — the libels of Nature ; curtain- 
 ed with gorgeous tapestry, to screen vice and shame and 
 infamy from the world’s gaze ; filled with cushioned couch- 
 es, where the votaries of pleasure recline, and sip the 
 swimming howl to the hitter dregs, and dreamy idlers 
 meet to gamble with the messengers of Death, to pawn 
 their manhood for a repose and then sleep their senseless 
 lives away. 
 
 Thus when we turn over the leaves of centuries in the 
 hook of Time, whose title is the “Autobiography of Man,” 
 we find nought but cheerless blanks, to show that gener- 
 ations come and go and pass from a life trance without a 
 struggle, into the slumber of the tomb. As they passed 
 away, no tolling bells sounded their knell upon the reluc- 
 tant air. No weeping minstrel spirits chanted the death 
 dirge over their lifeless remains. No bright beams of 
 Memory come to chase away the grim shadows that hov- 
 ered over the scene. No procession of mourning friends 
 with reluctant tread, followed the rattling bier that bore 
 them to the “City of the Dead.” They were wrapped in 
 their own dark shroud of oblivion, and quietly laid on the 
 damp pillow of the grave. 
 
 The world with unclouded countenance looked on ; she 
 heaved not a single sigh ; she shed not a solitary tear. — 
 No pain of remorse touched a single nerve ; no word of 
 pity played upon her silent lips. She felt that “ Old 
 Death,” prowling under the midnight shades, had laid his 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 127 
 
 snares for a worthless prize and caught the paupers of 
 the earth for his prey. But when we look into the se- 
 cret depths of human history, and study the philosophy 
 of human success and human failure, we find that a sub- 
 lime destiny is always the achievement of a current oflife 
 forces which sweep through man’s existence, setting into 
 motion the humming loom of his being, which slowly 
 weaves out the warp and woof of his history. It may re- 
 quire the nimble fingers of Genius to skillfully manage 
 the swiftly playing shuttles, as they carry the silken 
 threads which make up the web of life. But were it not 
 for these motive forces the loom would be silent and rus- 
 ty. No shuttles would be playing ; no threads would be 
 crossing. Alas, no web would be Goven ! No, not one 
 to keep him warm through the wintry nights of a cold 
 Gorki, to wrap around him in sickness, or even to cover 
 him, as a pall, in death. 
 
 The chief of the life-forces are : Industry, Ambition 
 and a Will. They alone can sound the nether depths of 
 a man’s being, and bring up the jewels imbedded there, 
 to float upon the surface of his life. They alone can sub- 
 due the hostile destinies of earth, battle with the storm- 
 winds and bid defiance to the lightning glare of Heaven. 
 
 Only the genius of Industry can turn a wilderness into 
 a paradise. Only Vigor and Ambition can climb the rug- 
 ged mountain height. Only an iron Will can shake the 
 pillar of Hercules by its nod. A strong Will is the Arch- 
 imedean lever. Take Ambition for a fulcrum, and the 
 genius of Industry can almost topple the throne of Des- 
 tiny and move the foundations of the woild. 
 
 A few men who embody these forces constitute the 
 brains of generations, in which all the nerves of a century 
 center. They are the batteries which' charge national 
 systems with the electric current of public sentiment. — 
 
128 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 The world talks much about Genius and even calls it the 
 flash of destiny, gleaming from the brains of human gods. 
 But it matters not how much native talent a man may 
 possess, it is certain that the metal flint will never flash 
 with the scintillations of Genius, until struck by the sub- 
 stone of Industry. 
 
 The inner depths of man will remain pure and clear as 
 crystal, so long as they are stirred into commotion by the 
 busy spirits of activity, but will become stagnant and 
 green with filthy scum when allowed to settle down in 
 the death-like stillness of indolence. How many there 
 are who, clasping the tackling ropes of Nature with an 
 iron grasp, steadily pull themselves up from loft to loft, 
 higher and higher, even into the highest niche in the 
 temple of glory, from which altitude the multitude below 
 seem to grovel in the dust, and the world appears to be 
 a field of mockery ! While thousands whom the world 
 says possess genius, linger in idleness upon the ground, 
 expecting to be borne upwards, as if upon Unseen wings 
 of destiny, and finally degenerate into a pauper’s living, 
 upon the charity of the world, until Death, touched with 
 pity for their destitution, lays them down to moulder, 
 without a monument in the Potter’s field of earth. 
 
 You might as well expect the plants of the fertile val- 
 ley to flourish on the desert <Sf Sahara, as to think choice 
 life-fortunes to bud and bloom and ripen upon the waste 
 of indolent existence, where refreshing life-rains never fall 
 and Industry never sprinkles its silent dew, but where 
 death-winds wail a mournful requiem and build their 
 sand-mounds upon the plain. 
 
 We find that men of great accomplishments in the mis- 
 sion of life are always assiduous workers. Humboldt, 
 that master-spirit of the century, that center of light, to 
 whose tread the labyrinthian halls of Creation were won t 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 129 
 
 to echo through all their windings, and to whose touch 
 the secret doors of Nature revealed their hidden springs, 
 and turned upon their golden hinges, gave every moment 
 to search for a hidden lesson, and turned the universe in- 
 to the sphere of his exertion. He went forth into the 
 harvest-field of Creation, and with busy fingers garnered 
 the fruits of Nature into his own being. He toiled and 
 acquired till all things seemed stored in himself ; until 
 he could scan the empire of philosophy with a single 
 glance and revolve the world in his brain. 
 
 But Ambition is also a propelling force in a successful 
 life. Indeed it is the mainspring in the watch-work of 
 man’s being. It turns the golden hand on the dial-plate 
 of human destiny. If it be strong as steel, then, indeed, 
 the world may carry man in her pocket for a time-piece, 
 and the tick-tick-tick which form the events of a man’s 
 life, shall be so distinct that, the world, to know that it is 
 still running, need not hold it to her ear. A man may 
 have many brains of gold, jewelled with the finest dia- 
 monds, yet if this mainspring is weak or broken, the life- 
 pointer moves not ; time flies, but no wonted tick is heard 
 and the world cries, in the bitterness of her grief, “0, 
 curse that pedler, Destiny, who bartered this worthless 
 watch to me for gold ! ” 
 
 Men talk much about false ambition, and point the icy 
 finger of disparagement at a marked man, as he moves 
 swiftly through the motley crowd down the course of life, 
 saying, “There goes a smart man, but alas, what a pity ! 
 he is too ambitious and rushing to his own destruction.” 
 But there is no false ambition. It is not a desire ; it is 
 not an aspiration. It is a force of existence. It is ever 
 onward in its tendency and never recoils. Ambitious men 
 are the representative leaders of generations, but drorfes 
 are the ragged stragglers who go hobbling on behind. 
 
 17 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 130 
 
 When you look out upon the watery waste and watch 
 the noble steamer, as she is driven with frightful speed 
 over the waves and as she scuds here and there, as 
 the plaything of the winds, until you see it reel- 
 ing in some whirlpool or dashed into fragments against 
 the breakers ; yoii condemn not the steam-power,, nor 
 the drive- wheels, but you condemn the mariner, the helms- 
 man of the the ship. So when you see a man, having en- 
 gaged in the commerce of life upon the broad sea of hu- 
 man experience, speeding with frightful velocity over the 
 elements, and driven here and there, and rising up and 
 plunging down, the wreck of the storm and the sport of 
 the surge, until you behold him cast away upon some sea 
 submerged rock or wrecked upon some craggy reef. Con- 
 demn not his ambition for sweeping him so swiftly, but 
 complain against his moral sense, the pilot of the brain. 
 Napoleon was the very incarnation of the power of ambi- 
 tion, and, indeed lie was the strongest man the world has 
 ever seen. -He had an iron constitution and nerves of 
 steel. By a single word he could win the messengers of 
 Fate, and frighten the hostile? elements into obedience by 
 a single glance. When he spoke the world said, “Hark! 
 Surely it thunders ! ” When he struck the world quail- 
 ed as if smitten with a lightning bolt. But a strong 
 will can only bridle the fractious forces of human na- 
 ture, and train them to the work of worthy mission. — 
 It is the staysail of the frigate of man. It keeps his bark 
 erect upon the billow, and swells full with the monsoons 
 of the world, that drive him onward in the voyage of life. 
 Without this no man can stem the counter currents, and 
 buffet the waves of the world’s sea. He becomes the 
 passive prey of the tempest, and rocks to and fro like a 
 wreck upon the sporting surge, until a swift gust comes 
 sweeping over the deep, casting him away forever, upon 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLAKKE DICE. 
 
 131 
 
 somedonely island, where nought hut surge and sea- 
 winds roar upon the rocky strand. We see that men 
 possessed of a determination to go ahead, have an unseen 
 hut resistless power. They rush through difficulties, as 
 if they were silken spider webs, and as they sweep down 
 the winding course of life, the world hows and stands hack? 
 to make room for them to pass. While you will 
 see the fickle crowd, standing at the corner of every street, 
 waiting for some favorable time to cross. Such are foil- 
 ed in every purpose and check-mated at every move. — 
 When on that barren island, on whose beach the wild 
 Pacific roared, and heaved its surges, — where Solitude 
 sat undisturbed upon her shadowy throne, and desolation 
 seemed to screen the cheerful world with its sable curtain, 
 that brave Man made that mark in the sand, and striding 
 across it, exclaimed to his disconsolate companions, “This 
 way leads to Peru, and to gold — that to Panama and 
 beggary ; let the noble Castdans make the choice,” — the 
 victory was already halt won. Francisco Pizarro already 
 held Peru struggling in his iron grasp, and the Inca was 
 purchasing his life with gold. Hannibal was the Cartha- 
 genean lever which shook the foundations of Europe, be- 
 fore whose gaze the Alpine cliffs bowed their haughty 
 peaks, and seemed to shake off their locks of perpetual 
 snow, and before whose frown, Rome, proud Rome, Mis- 
 tress of the world, was tottering upon her iron legs, as be- 
 fore the, glance of Destiny. All know that Hannibal had 
 an iron will, and who dares say that “Hannibal was not 
 mighty,” — all these. forces united in a triune power indeed 
 shall be man. What depth shall not yield up to him 
 its secret treasures P What heights shall boast, them- 
 selves uncalled by mortal man ? What destiny shall 
 not yield to his magic touch its hidden springs. 0 Indo- 
 lence ! Mother of Despair ! where is t thy consolation ? 
 
132 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 0 Content, Sister of Death ! where is thy comfort ? 0, 
 
 Fickleness ! yea forlorn child of the surge ! Where is thy 
 hope star, and how can’st thou excel ? 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 133 
 
 \ 
 
 THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 How like snow-flakes, falling at sunny noon-day, the 
 silent moments melt away ! How like the phantoms of 
 a dream, the life-forms of a year flit and steal, unseen, 
 away ! Indeed the reality of to-day is but the shadow, 
 cast by the reality of yesterday. Present life is but the 
 echo of vanished life returning. The world revolves so 
 swiftly, in its circle of time, that to-day’s events, striking 
 it like an elastic hall, rebound, and will strike it some- 
 where else to-morrow. Years fall upon it in their suc- 
 cessive turns, and glance into the past, like facts immut- 
 able, cast from the wheel of destiny. Moments crawl like 
 death-worms, upon the chain of existence, and gnaw off 
 the golden life-cords, which anchor generations to the 
 moorings of the living. But lo ! to-day, a sad scene 
 passes before the world’s vision ! For, though the finger 
 of destiny points us to the rich treasures of a new horn 
 year, and prospects fair, come steaking down the wide, 
 winding aisle of coming time, yet the genius of the world 
 smitten with grief, and bowed with tears, weeps over the 
 lost, the vanished year, and yearns to linger longer around 
 the newly made grave of 1861. The past throws an en- 
 chantment over the world, and from vanished scenes, 
 stretch countless mystic chords of memory, and affection, 
 that twine around the filaments of the soul, and chain us 
 captives to their power. And thus, while hope, and cour- 
 age greet and cheer the morning of another year, let 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 134 
 
 memory invoke the slumbering spirit of the departed one, 
 and pronounce upon the world’s tribute of respect. 
 
 Yes, another year has ebbed away, mingling with all 
 that have gone before ; mighty with great events, bright 
 with cheerful hopes, immortal in everlasting fruitions. 
 18G1 is no more. Its life has passed into history. Its 
 glory is the weal, its shame the woe, of all that has pass- 
 ed, since it first dawned. As evanescent thought shad- 
 ows steal softly over the mind, so the old year has crept 
 over the world, and naught but quickly made foot-prints 
 are left behind. It came, and who knew it ? It stayed, 
 and who hath seen it P It has sped away, and who can 
 show a relic of its being ? But years are the great en- 
 gines that draw an endless train of consequences from 
 one emporium to another, along the course of time, freight- 
 ed with all the treasures of the past, the hidden fates, 
 and fortunes of the future. Therefore, when the mighty 
 engine comes puffing up the track of ages, drawing an 
 endless train into the great central depot of a century, 
 then all at once the shrill whistle blast breaks upon the 
 startled air, and the bell peals forth its chime of warning; 
 then the idle and busy people of the world rush forth to- 
 gether, some nimble with elastic hope, others trembling 
 with wasting fear, some jubilant with high expectations, 
 others despondent with sad forebodings — all anxious to 
 see what fate has sent them by the last train, to know 
 their fortunes, and read their destinies. Then what a 
 scene presents itself to view, abounding in mingled shades 
 and shadows dark! There stands one whose heart swells 
 with overflowing joy. But there is another, bound in 
 grief, whose soul surges, as if smitten with despair. Sat- 
 isfaction rests like placid sunshine upon the former’s 
 brow, but heartless disappointment casts shadows across 
 the latter’s soul, and stares vacant from his sunken eyes. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 135 
 
 There decrepit age, to favor given, offers thanks to the 
 fates, which have presided over the destinies of the year. 
 Yonder disappointed childhood sits weeping over a pau- 
 per’s lot, and pronounces luck and chance the world’s 
 great scheme, and life’s prospects but the phantoms of a 
 sickly dream. The train was freighted with priceless 
 fruitions for one, while the fortunes of another are swept 
 away, like the wreck of a sorry vision. Thus we see 
 changes in the world’s great scene, from foul to fair, from 
 happiness to despair. Fate scatters not its blessings with 
 an even hand. For some, the departed year came, as the 
 missionary of success and fortunes bright. To another 
 it told the sad tale of defeat, of prospects dimmed, and 
 chances lost. To some, it showed the cheerful picture of 
 a wise experience, together with its untold fruitions ; to 
 others, it revealed their movements on the chess-board of 
 life, where by fickle mishap, pawns have been swept away 
 and knights sacrificed to folly and inattention. To some, 
 it has been the swelling wave that bore them to giddy 
 bights of glory and transcendent power, to others it has 
 ebbed, and sunk away, lowering them down to the nether 
 depths of misfortune, obloquy, and woe. Upon some it 
 conferred the pledge of long life, and the deed to far 
 sweeeping possessions ; to others, disease, death, and the 
 title to the tomb. But why murmui at the immutable 
 dealings of Fate ? Why curse the Infinite economy ? 
 The world is a great lottery, and all men are gambling 
 for a fortune. Success is but for the few, losses for the 
 many, and some must needs draw blanks.. Life is but an 
 uncertain experiment, a voyage upon a boundless sea 
 without a guiding star and without compass ; a game of 
 chance played with the destinies of earth and skillful indeed 
 must he be who never makes false movements, and for- 
 tunate who by dint of shrewdness, chances to win the 
 
136 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 stake. How different the old year appears in the several 
 lives of men, as each turns hack once more, to hid it a re- 
 luctant adieu, and take a retrospect of his hygone career. 
 For some beautiful monuments of achievements break out 
 upon the delighted vision. Broad landscapes stretch out 
 to view, blooming with pleasant and unfading recollec- 
 tions, that breathe their aroma into the soul. While to 
 others appear naught but mossy Avrecks of great under- 
 takings, crumbling to the dust, blasted prospects wither- 
 ed to the ground, rugged cliffs and deep-sounding abysses 
 infested with infernal spirits, that mocked them as they 
 ran and pointed the finger of ridicule at the ruins of 
 their defeat. And to those Avho idled away their lives, 
 and spread not a single net to catch the opportunities, and 
 the chances as they went floating down the stream of 
 Time, it looks like a barren and desolate waste. It has 
 no shrub nor forest wild to cheer the Avandering eye, and 
 break off the chilly life- wind that comes sweeping over the 
 desert plain, to hoarsely whisper in their reluctant ears 
 the lesson of plundered Nature and wasted time. Now 
 that the old year has bid the Avorld farewell and gone to 
 its eternal rest, who shall test its merits by the touch- 
 stone of individual experience, or measure its duration 
 by degree of individual progress? It has matured the ele- 
 ments of one of the greatest struggles which time has ever 
 witnessed, and held the scales in which the world’s future 
 weal, was balanced against its future Avoe. It taught the 
 nations a lesson of political philosophy, and solved for 
 an anxious Avorld, the greatest problem of the age. Its 
 records unfold the iron logic of events, and if the future 
 generations study it properly, then indeed, the world shall 
 reason Avell. Especially will the departed year mark a 
 distinguished period in the progress of American Em- 
 pire. It seemed to constitute the mighty hinge in our 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 137 
 
 Nation’s history, on which Western civilization was lia- 
 ble to swing. 
 
 The Genius of the age, seeing our fate trembling in the 
 balance, declared that 1861 would he the morn of a bright 
 epoch in American progress, or the evening of our Na- 
 tion’s existence. The year has passed into eternity, hut 
 America still exists, a nationality, independent, powerful 
 and brave, and the cheering light begins to gleam through 
 the rifted clouds which once, like the pall of Death, over- 
 hung the Nation’s destiny. The year taught the lesson 
 by sad experience, that the world ought to have learned 
 before, that antagonistic principles cannot exist in peace 
 nor operate in harmony with each other, for each natural- 
 ly tending toward universal empire, one must prevail to 
 the ruin of the other. And 1 believe, that it has solved 
 affirmatively, whether or not a nation can be free, and at 
 the same time permanent ; whether popular government 
 may be trusted as well as he feared. 
 
 Shall the hand of Treason hurl from the watch-towers 
 of the Republic, the beacon-lights of hope and charity 
 and equal rights, which the spirit of ’76 placed there to 
 radiate, upon the world’s troubled sea, to light up the 
 course of wandering nations ? Shall that tree which our 
 fathers watered with their blood, and nurtured with tender 
 care under whose widely extended houghs all mankind 
 may gather, and he protected from the summer’s heat, and 
 the winter’s icy blast, which has already defied and hut- 
 feted the howling storm-winds, and pelting hail and fiery 
 lightnings of three quarters of a century — shall it be strick- 
 en down in all its glory and beauty and power ? Never ! 
 Never ! NEVER ! The Genius of America rises in all 
 the majesty of her power, and cries to the spirit of Con- 
 spiracy, 
 
 18 
 
138 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 “ Woodman spare that tree, 
 
 Touch not a single hough, 
 
 In youth it sheltered me 
 And I’ll protect it now.” 
 
 Despotism trembles upon its rocking throne, and Re- 
 bellion recoils at its own damnable undertaking. So pro- 
 found is that current of Patriotism and love of Liberty 
 which sweeps through the Nation’s soul, that before he 
 would see Republican Government fail, or his country 
 fall, the last American Patriot would write his epitaph 
 upon her ruins, and seal his devotion with his blood. — 
 There are distinctive periods, in time’s endless sweep, in 
 which the forces of the world seem to recoil a little, to gain 
 new strength and power for making greater achievements 
 and more transcendent strides in their general progress. — 
 Justbefore the Genius of the Reformation had broken that 
 troubled dream and chased away the idle phantoms, which 
 during the night ot the middle ages had played upon the 
 bewildered, the forces of Progress had rolled back in their 
 course, leaving European Civilization at its lowest ebb. 
 But when they gathered themselves and rushed forward 
 again, they swept away the shadowy ghosts and crumb- 
 ling wrecks of that awful night, and hore the world to a 
 sublime altitude and glory. To us it is a sad but famil- 
 iar tale, how our forefathers were persecuted and plunder- 
 ed of their dearest rights. 
 
 To what a low ehb the tide of civilization had sunk, 
 when the Revolution burst forth upon the world, sweep- 
 ing away the tottling land-marks of European power, and 
 breaking the latter part of the eighteenth century from 
 the moorings of an age of despotism, absolutism and of 
 woe! It may be that 1861 shall mark such a period in 
 our Nation’s history. I trust that the forces of American 
 Progress have rolled back only to gain new strength and 
 power for surging against the barriers of the age ; to 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 139 
 
 sweep away the old institutions of wickedness and oppres- 
 sion which cast their grim shadows all over the land, and 
 throw our struggling and bleeding country upon the high- 
 est wave of national glory. A sad hour was that for our 
 trembling country when the report ot Sumter’s fall rung 
 upon the world’s reluctant ear. The evil Genius of the 
 age pointed the finger of ridicule at her blackened walls, 
 and presaged ruin and woe to America and her laws. — 
 Monarchy grinned a ghostly, horrible smile. But Liberty 
 shrieked as if before the glance of Death, and the Genius 
 of America bowed and wept for the degeneracy of her 
 children. But the cannon hall, before which Fort Sum- 
 ter crumbled, I believe has reboUnded and aimed a death- 
 blow at the very heart of the rebellion. Slavery cannot 
 survive this struggle. The finger of Fate has written 
 that decree in the book of destiny with the life-fluid of 
 patriots who have nobly died upon the altar of their coun- 
 try ; with the blood of the generous and noble-hearted 
 Winthrop ; with the blood of the brave and daring Lyon ; 
 alas, with the blood of the fearless and eloquent Baker. 
 And now no power on earth can revoke or blot it out. ’ 
 
 If we can understand the logic of events, we may just- 
 ly believe that under the surface of the progress of that 
 struggle, from its origin to the delivering up of Mason and 
 Slidell, there sweeps a nether current of forces, which will 
 break up and purify the foundations of the Nation’s deep, 
 and work out our country’s sublimest destiny. When 
 the storm-winds shall go to rest, and the sable clouds o’er 
 our heads shall drift away, the spirit of Peace shall again 
 inspire our land with new life and vigor as by a magic 
 touch, and stud the firmament of our future destiny with 
 starry prospects. Then the world shall join in celebrating 
 the Nation’s jubilee, and the voice of all mankind attun- 
 ed to a common song, shall swell the praise of 1S61. 
 
140 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 COUNTER CURRENTS. 
 
 Through the world there flows a silvery stream, and 
 that life-stream never runs smoothly. Experience is in- 
 deed a troubled tide, sweeping down the course of time, 
 for the sporting children of Fate, playing upon its hanks, 
 cast many a stone to make ripples upon its surface, and 
 it is ruffled by many a fickle breeze of chance. The hand 
 of tranquillity can never smooth down its rolling ripples. 
 The fisherman of life, sitting upon the overhanging rock, 
 may cast forth his net, but only once in the same waters. 
 The angels of destiny may fling the events of time upon 
 its bosom, but those events can only sink to the bottom, 
 and can never stop its onward ceaseless flow. The pale 
 moon of destiny, wandering along her vaulted pathway, 
 rocks the tide of experience to and fro upon its everlast- 
 ing balance, and as Chance, sitting upon her shadowy 
 throne, sweeps her steel trident through the world’s great 
 life-stream, ten thousand counter currents rise, and strug- 
 gle, and ripple, like murmuring rills, through its bosom. 
 Look up and down the stream from every judgment seat 
 ot our existence, and lo !vve see counter waves heaved from 
 their beds, bounding against and after one other, through 
 the storm, all over the sweep, from shore to shore — the 
 cradle and the grave. Now one rises up higher and high- 
 er, like a spiral column, as if to kiss the heavens. But 
 soon another surges against it and quickly it tumbles and 
 scatters in the wind like a mountain of feathery spray. — - 
 Now Fate hurls it into its unconscious depths, the light- 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 141 
 
 ning’s shafts, forged by the finger of God to break up the 
 nether foundations, and anon her thundering voice, rum- 
 bles along the trembling elements, warning the mariners 
 on life’s sea. Now the listless winds sigh over the depths, 
 like the wail of a dying storm stirring them into gentle 
 pulsations, and on the little waves all mankind leap and 
 swing as light-footed dancers in the ball-room of the sea. 
 But soon the dripping wings of the tempest lash the wild 
 elements into fury, and the howling storm, rocking them 
 to and fro, seems to sport with the freighted fleets and 
 iron-clad navies of the world. 
 
 The world’s life-stream is full of deep-sounding eddies, 
 whose depths turn in a ceaseless whirl ; of mighty reefs, 
 on which the sweeping current breaks and rolls back in 
 curls to wind around the breakers, and is rippled every- 
 where by ten thousand tributary rills that come flowing 
 down the mountain vales, from the fountains of creation; 
 and thus it sweeps on, and ever on, through Time’s mazy 
 windings, over rocky beds and down frightful plunges, 
 and thus all the life-rills of creation mingle in a common 
 destiny — the bosom of God. 
 
 Thus the tide of the world’s experience flows roughly 
 on, silently bearing away the varied fruitions, the gains 
 and losses, the hopes and fears, the sadness and gladness 
 of life, to oblivion’s gulf, the world’s common tomb. — 
 Throughout existence, both in the realm of matter and of 
 mind, currents of opposing forces are everywhere meeting, 
 struggling, defeating and yielding, as may chance to rule 
 the angels of destiny which preside over success and de- 
 feat — the law and logic of life. 
 
 Conflict is the natural order in the universal economy, 
 the positive force of all progressive existence. It is the 
 antipode of inaction, and inactivity is the scepter which 
 Death, sitting upon his shadowy throne, would wield over 
 
142 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OFj 
 
 an universal empire. From the fates which preside at 
 the poles of creation roll forth opposing tides, and when 
 they sweep down and meet on the common battle-field of 
 the equator, Nature sounds trumpet, for the conflict is 
 fiercely waged and her legions must all join in the com- 
 bat. 
 
 As Fate opens the windows of her temple, and scatters 
 her works broadcast over the deep, they are quickly 
 caught up by the curling waves of Fortune, chasing one 
 other, as they scud round and round the world, until they 
 break and vanish and are seen no more. One hour comes 
 to us as the winged messenger of joy and, with pinions of 
 memory and hope, brings recollections and hopes to cheer 
 the solitudes of existence ; but always in its wake comes 
 another, floating down, as the reluctant carrier of grief, in 
 whose train a troop of shadows flit close behind to spread 
 sorrow and sadness through the heart. Yesterday, by 
 success made strong in courage, we rejoiced over the 
 trophies of victory and praised the faithtulness of Fortune. 
 To-day, by defeat hopeless in despair, we curse the fickle- 
 ness of luck, and weep over the treachery of Fate. Yes- 
 terday, the little silent mystic weavers of our being, sat 
 at the humming loom of the brain, and with busy fingers, 
 quietly attended the noiseless shuttles of imagination, as 
 they carried backward and forward the subtle dream 
 threads of the mind, and thus weaving out a bright and 
 gorgeous vision of the future. But the same messengers 
 come stealing down the hours, smiling at our thoughts, 
 as they were flitting by, until to-day grim reality, dimin- 
 ishing our vision with tears, and we children of delusion, 
 alas ! how-fallen, sit mourning over the wrecks of ideal 
 castles, which fancy built along the highway of the fu- 
 ture. Thus it is. Reality ever disguises herself, and 
 with noiseless tread, steals down the secret aisles of the 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 143 
 
 world, never faltering, never turning, but ever moving on- 
 ward, and without one signal, without a word of greeting 
 takes all mankind by surprise, and reads to them a lesson 
 of the future, from the book of destiny. But delusion 
 robing herself in the pilfered garb of reality, wanders un- 
 suspected in day-light, through the bustling streets of 
 life, stealing away the consciousness of the world, and 
 pointing the shadowy linger of deception, as if some bright 
 prize flashes ahead, she rushes on, and all mankind, with 
 light hearts and nimble feet, follow in quick pursuit un- 
 til her mask falls off, like a fog that robes the morning, 
 and perchance the walls of folly girt them round, and 
 they are left forlorn, to wander like children lost in wil- 
 derness. And anon, the Genius of night, ascending her 
 shadowy throne, flings out her curtain to wrap them 
 round and dismal specters sport in its fringes. Then 
 solemn life-thoughts begin to creep softly over the return- 
 ing consciousness of the lone wanderers. Fading memo- 
 ries, blasted hopes, and ruined fortunes, can only tell the 
 tale of their delusion, and remorse begins to play with 
 its icy fingers, upon the tender feelings that string the 
 lyre of the heart. 
 
 Then, when the dark-winged angels of shame and ruin 
 and death silently break from their nether homes, and 
 prowl as midnight messengers upon their heels through 
 the deep solitudes of their pilgrimage, they wail and shriek 
 and cry for help, and anon the nimble messengers of Fate, 
 each with little lanterns lighted at the throne of Diety, 
 come lightly tripping down the world to search out the 
 despairing children of delusion, and to lead them forth 
 again, upon the highlands of existence, where the orb of 
 truth, wheeling through an unveiled sky, weaves its tex- 
 ture and flings the robe of light around, and now and 
 then, to refresh the floating clouds, drop their rainy tears 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 144 
 
 and iife-winds, cool and bracing, gently sweep and sigh 
 thorugh the shady groves and fan the feverish brow of 
 Day and sport with the loose robe of Night. 
 
 On Creation’s broad sweep, Fate draws up his troops 
 of opposing destinies, and presides over the conflict as 
 they fight the battles of the world’s history, and victory 
 seems but an elastic ball, ever bounding backwards and 
 forwards, between the contending forces. Indeed, un- 
 seen down in some dim and secret chamber of creation, 
 the brilliant dramatists of destiny, long since planned 
 and wrote the Drama of life, in the sealed book of the fu- 
 ture, and we, as chosen actors, have only met in the great 
 theater, to rehearse our parts before the audience of 
 the world, and surely how varied the scenes in which we 
 appear ! How often are the parts changed from good to 
 bad, from better perhaps, to worse ! How many differ- 
 ent characters we represent in the play, and how often do 
 we change our outward garb and exchange the shadows 
 and sunshine of the soul. While with one hand, we rock 
 the cradle of innocent childhood, with the other we smooth 
 the damp pillow of the grave. While with the eye of Hope, 
 we gaze upon ideal life-pictures, hung along the secret 
 windings of the future, the eye of Memory roams among 
 the deserted scenes of the past and drops a hot tear here 
 and there, upon the ruins of departed greatness. While 
 with one ear we hear the anxious cry of posterity, swelling 
 from the bosom of the future, and telling the noisy world 
 to be quiet for a moment, with the other we listen to the 
 Fathers and the voice of the tomb. Laughing, weeping, 
 hoping, despairing, sighing and rejoicing, are all distinc- 
 tive parts in our common lot. 
 
 The good old dame, Fortune, ever weaving and mend- 
 ing for her children, has countless different garbs for us, 
 hung up in the secret closets of the world, and when the 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 145 
 
 world, and when the scene changes, we go to themf and 
 robe ourselves in habiliments appropriate to the parts we 
 play. And as we progress in playing the drama, the 
 crowded world from pit to dome, viewing us through the 
 opera-glass of criticism, is ever ready to manifest her 
 feeling of displeasure, or delight. For the world is no 
 stoic. Now we are cheered by the sunny countenances 
 and the hearty applause of the audience, but anon, cha- 
 grined by mistakes, we quail before the shadowy frown, 
 and quiver under the hoarse hisses, that flutter on their 
 lips. And thus success and failure alternately play upon 
 our being. The “Harp of a thousands strings,” tuned to 
 sadness and gladness, swells forth the music of the heart. 
 To-day, light-hearted childhood frolics and sports with 
 its tiny pi ay- thing's ; to-morrow, old age with wrinkled 
 visage, and trembling limbs, and bowed head, will totter 
 under the shadow of the tomb. 
 
 What one event digs from the world’s mines, and 
 willingly stores in the treasury of our lives, another un- 
 locking the doors with keys, filches like a midnight thief 
 and flings to the plunder managers of the world. Indeed, 
 the world is a revolving swing perpetually sweeping 
 around upon its axis, and we the passengers sitting in 
 its hanging seats, are thus riding through life, up and 
 down, sometimes high and sometimes low, ever between 
 joy and grief, weal and woe. Every human experience is 
 a monument, whose pedestal is based in the bosom of 
 Gnd. But as the destinies of life descend into the world’s 
 great quarry, to break off and hew out the block with 
 which to rear the monument from its base, until its pin- 
 nacle shall lean against the sky of immortality, they 
 never take the block oi the same color, nor ever chisel 
 the/m into the same form and shape, nor ever place them 
 in like positions, in the great structure. Surely human 
 19 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 146 
 
 experience is a wonderful monument. Hopeful child- 
 hood sports upon its base. Old age with hoary locks un- 
 covered, sits weeping on its pinnacle. 
 
 Ambition’s childhood yearns to mount time's mystic lad- 
 der, on rounds of years, to snatch the treasures of Destiny. 
 Old age to whom the world seems but a delusive shadow, 
 and life hut a troubled dream, longs to descend and 
 mingle once more with the busy life-forms that once 
 played in the scenes of the morning of life. Unskilled 
 childhood on whose cheek the smile 'of innocence softly 
 plays, and in whose eye hope beams brightly, and from 
 whose heart courage flashes forth, looking up, beholds star- 
 ry prospects twinkling all over the future of life. Old age 
 on whose wrinkled cheek the icy finger of time has writ- 
 ten a sad tale, on whose quivering lips, words of sadness 
 lingeringly seem to flutter, in whose dim and tearful eyes 
 already the lamp of life burns, faintly and feebly glim- 
 mers, looking sees naught, but the vanishing shadows 
 of the past, flitting life-forms silently stealing away, pale 
 memories fading in the distance, blasted hopes withering 
 and drooping, ruined fortunes lost forever, and beautiful 
 ideal worlds wrecked in chaos. But these antipodal 
 forces, not only prevail throughout existence, but rule 
 the fortune of individual and collective man. 
 
 Counter currents drive the destiny wheels of ages, and 
 sweep through the life-stream of empire. The genius of 
 one age weaves its robe of customs and laws around 
 the world, which the genius of another tears off and flings 
 away, when dingy with the dust of the pilgrimage, 
 and rent and tattered by the the wear of sweaty years. 
 The destiny-artists of one age, hang their brightest ideals 
 in the picture gallery of the world, seeming to challenge 
 improvement, but as years creep down the slope of time 
 and generations breathe upon them, they fade and others, 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 147 
 
 ancl more beautiful ones, are hung in their places. Thus 
 we read the story of time. Thus we learn the lessons of 
 destiny. But how clearly we can see this law of counter- 
 currents ruling in the fate of empires ! Roll back the 
 tide of time, and standing with the muse of history upon 
 the heights of antiquity, behold the genius of the past, 
 sitting upon the regal throne, around whose base gener- 
 ations have scattered, their treasures, whose scepter reach- 
 es far over the stretch of ages and in whose crown, gleam- 
 ing in the light of remembrance, empires brightly flash. 
 See those empires in the zenith of their glory ! Behold 
 their grandeur, and you have seen what was, what flourish- 
 ed, but alas ! what is no more. One by one the hand of 
 Fate has plucked those nations from the golden crown, 
 until not oue is left to sparkle alone; in the night of 
 dusky ages, and they are buried deep in the sands of 
 time. 0 ! queenly Persia ! Bride ot the sea ! Thou 
 that could’st bridge the Hellespont with thy navy ! How 
 art thou fallen ! How Time has scattered thy glories to 
 the winds ! How the dust of forgetfulness is sifting over 
 thy remains. One current of forces bore the Grecian Em- 
 pire upon the highest wave of national glory, but that 
 tide soon ebbed, and where is Greece to-day ! 0 Greece ! 
 immortal, beautiful Greece ! Victor of Marathon and 
 Thermopylae’ ! How mighty is thy fall ! How sad is 
 thy degeneracy ! Where once as Queen of the world, 
 she stood with arms outstretched, from the Ionian sea, 
 across the Hellespont, and beyond, and whose eyes flashed 
 light and liberty throughout all the Orient! 
 
 How the drooping cypress boughs hang down their 
 shades and the lonely pilgrims of centuries idly stroll and 
 mourn and shed their tears, and like a heart-sick mother 
 the Genius of the world, with bleeding heart, sits and 
 weeps for the loss of her most beautiful child. Tyre once 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 148 
 
 stood Empress of the Sea, wielding her trident over the 
 waves, and with hounds stretched back over the Jordan, 
 grasping the girdle of the Syrian Desert. But she too 
 has fallen, and the wild waves laving her marble feet, 
 sprinkle their spray upon the shore, and spider moments 
 have woven around her remains their dusky shroud. Look 
 at Palmyra the great central Emporium of oriental trade 
 from whose every side, radiated the grand highways of 
 the commercial world, and in whose chambers Eastern 
 civilization held court. Time has rolled on, but alas ! 
 for the Mistress of the Desert* the once proud Palmyra ! — 
 The tide of trade no longer flows underneath the Cyclope- 
 an arch. No slowly-moving caravan is seen passing down 
 the windings of the streets. No solitary footfall echoes 
 along thy deserted^halls. The noisy hum of human life 
 is hushed in silence, the silence of the tomb. Now the 
 dry dust of the plain comes sweeping over thy lonely ruins 
 and as the Genius of thy former glory sits mourning on 
 thy broken arches, her wail sadly blends with the solemn 
 music of the desert winds. On the Northern coast of 
 Africa, there was once an Imperial City, magnificent and 
 grand, the fair daughter of an ancient Tyre. It was 
 Carthage, proud Carthage, who standing up, flung her 
 shadow back upon the great Desert, and with one hand 
 reached forth, grasped the rock of Gibralter, and with the 
 other, stretched across the Mediterranean, the Alps, the 
 plains of Italy and beyond, almost snatched the fillet of 
 Imperial Rome. .Illustrious Carthage, proudest child of 
 Atric’s court ! How the land of the Moors did bow at thy 
 feet, and how did the proud eagle of Imperial Rome flut- 
 ter before tliy glance. Centuries have fled away since 
 then, but where, 0 ! where is Carthage now ? Go ask 
 the martyrs of Zana. Go ask Marius whose spirit sits 
 alone upon her ruins. Go listen at the sounding sea as 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 149 
 
 the waves chant her requiem along the shores, and there 
 comes ever fluttering, “ The city of Dido is no more.” — 
 To-day the counter currents are fiercely battling in the 
 life-stream of our own dear and native land. But who 
 can predict woe and ruin for Columbia’s f ate ? Who does 
 not believe that the current of Freedom must prevail 
 over the current of slavery, and that America, immortal 
 in youth, shall survive and flourish and rule omnipotent 
 as Empress of the Western world ? Who can despair of 
 our country so long as justice is the ruling passion of her 
 soul, and the finger of Deity shall point out her pathway 
 of destiny P Shall she fail in her sublimest mission of 
 Freedom and world-wide charity, thus wrecking so many 
 fortunes of the Past, and blotting out so many hopes and 
 prospects of the Future ? Never, never ! Brittania,with 
 jealous eye looking across the waves, predicts our country’s 
 ruin. But the spirit of the age responds. Her destruc- 
 tion shall never be until long after the celebrated New 
 Zealander shall sit upon the broken arch of London 
 Bridge, and sketch the ruins of St. Paul. Her destiny 
 is written most beautifully in the book of Fate, by the 
 finger of Heaven, and naught but the power of Omnipo- 
 tence can blot it out. Boll on, ye silent train of years, and 
 bear down the future track, the world to better stations. 
 And thou, 0 Columbia, fair Queen of the Nation’s guar- 
 dian angel of Liberty, robed in light, shalt stand on the 
 summit of the Cordilleras, ruling from the Gulf to the 
 Northern lakes and with outstretched hands shalt reach 
 from the Atlantic to Pacific shores. 
 
150 
 
 LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF| 
 
 INDIVIDUALISM. 
 
 Where is he who wore the shibboleth of individuality 
 into life, and bore the mirror of the world in his being P 
 Alas ! he was swept away by the torrent of centralization 
 and swallowed up in the bosom of absolutism. Where is 
 his broad empire which, when the star of fortune had set- 
 tled for the night, the star of hope illumined with the 
 bright rays of immortal day ! It has been turned into 
 the great commons of the world, where market-men hold 
 their fairs, and parties meet to tune their harps and play 
 their subtile wires. Where is his voice w'hose harmonies 
 might cheer the world’s great heart like the strains of an 
 Eolian Lyre ? His muffled and his feeble words are 
 drowned in the clamor of the multitude. Surely he still 
 breathes, but only through the nostrils of a party ; he 
 yet sees, but only through the eyes of a creed ; he still 
 speaks, but only with the rusty trumpet of his sect ; the 
 being truly exists, hut the individual hardly breaks the 
 reluctant silence of the tomb. This man whose lightning 
 flashes of genius seemed to scare the very fates from their 
 high places, and in whom the pales of creation blend in har- 
 mony. has banished the nature enthroned in his being, and 
 permitted the genius of art to wrap him still living, in 
 the cerements of the grave. Individuality is the highest 
 shibboleth of man, self-reliance the first law of his being 
 and responsibility the best school of life. The person that 
 would submerge himself in the sweeping current ofcen- 
 tralization would fling his highest birth-right to the idle 
 winds. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 151 
 
 He that floats down his destiny in the bark of another, 
 is a traitor to himself, and surely he that would become a 
 true mariner on life’s great sea, must understand the 
 trade winds of existence, and paddle his own canoe. Man 
 absorbed in the organization of power becomes but the 
 passive cog-wheel in the machinery of social law, but the 
 pivot on which sweeps the forces of centralization. It is 
 only a steady reliance upon his own individuality, that 
 can make him an active motive power of the world’s pro- 
 gress, and a being who can rule the very fates, which pre- 
 side over the destinies of ages and of empires. We were 
 made exclusive beings to act for ourselves and to live 
 within ourselves ; and if man works upon the estate of 
 others, his own nature shall be barren like a desert waste 
 and if he subsists upon the fruits of the external, he is but 
 a beggar upon the world. Why should man let the na- 
 tive forces of his being slumber forever in order to culti- 
 vate, the interests of a party ? Why should he not live 
 upon the powers and resources within him, rather than to 
 exist as a pauper upon the commons of the world, and to 
 let their force and goodness waste away on the desert 
 air. 
 
 Individuality subsists upon itself and revolves within 
 its own being. It always obeys the everlasting law of 
 gravitation, but it is never jostled from the poles .of its 
 own identity, nor ever flies from its destined orbits of ex- 
 istence. Early in childhood’s morning the real individual 
 sails out from the busy harbor on the voyage of life. — 
 Solitary and alone he floats down the bay of his existence 
 and then plows the ocean’s foam. The broad sea of the 
 world before, is rippled with ten thousand counter-cur- 
 rents of life and activity, and teems everywhere with the 
 fleet of men scudding over its waves. The sky-blue halls 
 seem lit with countless torches to illumine the course of 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 152 
 
 life, and the beacon lights of ten thousand ports, cast their 
 flickering rays far out on the desert waste to invite the 
 weary mariner to his home or to allure him to his fate. — 
 But he notices not these, for as he speeds over the ele- 
 ments chasing the hollowest shadow of life, he is the pi- 
 lot of his own frigate and bears the star ot his destiny in 
 his own brain. 
 
 Who ever saw such a one wrecked or cast away upon 
 the desert sea though the world heaved and sighed heav- 
 ily, though the angry waves dashed fiercely against him, 
 though the darkness of the night of chaos hovered o’er 
 him and the Furies let loose their storm-winds to howl 
 around him as if to sweep the sea ? Individuality casts 
 man upon his own responsibilities and resources, and thus 
 he feels all the natural relations of life and the necessities 
 of his nature call into operation all the mighty levers of 
 his being with which he must lift himself into a glorious 
 destiny. * 
 
 But this centralization of mankind, which seems to hold 
 universal empire over the world, may he equal in all its 
 forms, hut it is despotism in all its substance ; for, if 
 you cast an individual upon the sweeping tide of organic 
 force, where will he go P Where is his freedom ? It is 
 enervating and suicidal. For, if a man hides himself un- 
 der the shadow of a party, and flees from his individual 
 responsibilities, the storms and sunshine of existence, he 
 shall droop like a withered flower and his life shall steal 
 unnoticed to its close, for unknown, unhonored and un- 
 seen, he is skulking through the world to an eternal re- 
 pose. It is dwarfing in its influence upon man, for it 
 steals his birth-right, breathes into him the spirit of 
 hollow forms and wraps him in the iron bonds of life- 
 less conventionalities. It makes him the microcosm 
 of the world, the mere appendage of a party faction. The 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 153 
 
 organic masses of humanity are like the great forests of 
 the earth ; for as in them the under-brush can never flour- 
 ish, nor the trees themselves grow to their natural size 
 and shape, because they cannot feel the electric inspira- 
 tion of the sunlight, nor breath the untrammeled air, nor 
 widely out-stretch their arms to battle with the storm- 
 winds of heaven ; so it is with the under-brush of organ- 
 izations ; so it is with the individuals that are lost in the 
 forests of centralization. 
 
 But he who revolves upon his own axis, a world within 
 himself, who scorns the proffered favor, and dares the fate 
 of life, stands out in bold relief upon the world’s great 
 level, like the solitary oak upon the sweeping plain, which 
 spreading wide and towering in majestic grandeur, seems 
 to mock the raging winds and even to defy the thunder- 
 bolts of Heaven. 
 
 But the world is poor as to such men, and therefore, 
 when they touch the harp-strings of life, their melodies 
 do not melt away upon the air, like .the hitter sigh of a 
 girl ; nor does their glory ever fall to mingle with the ru- 
 ins of decay ; nor does the world’s memory leave their 
 record to waste away at the portals of the tomb like an 
 idle romance of a day. 
 
 To look back upon the boundless sweep of the past, 
 horrid darkness has gathered there, and destruction seems 
 to have swept over it, like the hissing simoom ot the des- 
 ert, though ages appear desolate, like barren wastes, and 
 generations, without a living record, have passed away 
 and mouldering empires, in confusion, are scattered upon 
 the plain, and even though the muse of history sits weep- 
 ing over the ruins as she sketches the scene, yet to our 
 joy, we see scattered here and there upon the hights of 
 centuries, the noble forms of men who maintained their 
 individuality in life, and in death never lost it ; who, liv- 
 20 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 154 
 
 ing, built an ark for their treasures and their fortunes, 
 and who in dissolution dared destruction and the fates to 
 sink it in the depths of eternity. Here they, solitary, 
 stand, and though the night of ages can but span between 
 us, yet their hallowed shadows come flitting down to us, 
 beaming with immortal deeds ; their virtues shoot forth 
 like sky-rockets through the overhanging darkness, and 
 their golden light of fame seems to tinge the borders of 
 the world. 
 
 Socrates and Confucius, Luther and Bonaparte, Hum- 
 boldt and Parker were individuals because they were 
 great, and illustrious because they maintained their indi- 
 viduality. They lived within themselves. They dived 
 down into the depths by their own diving-bells, and gath- 
 ered up the priceless jewels which the hand of Nature had 
 scattered there, and with these they studded the niches of 
 their lives. More easily might you pour an ocean into a 
 mill-pond than crowd such men into a party, for they 
 were greater than any association of their times. A world 
 within themselves, creation must be their sphere. Omni- 
 present in power, the fates must be their slaves. Such 
 men electrify the ages with the inspiration of living 
 thought, and swing upon their destiny as the mighty pen- 
 dulum whose vibrations move the clock-work of nations 
 They are always representative men, who read the book 
 of Nature by the lamp within themselves and never let 
 waves that they create upon the sea of life overtake them. 
 They smite the rock of Truth with their magic wands and 
 out gushes the crystal water, to quench the thirst of suf- 
 fering man. They fearlessly embark upon the dismal sea 
 of the unknown world of thought to discover new conti- 
 nents of truth yet wrapped in mystery. They are the 
 great motive power that draws the train of civilization, 
 freighted with the people and fortune of centuries over 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 155 
 
 the common track of the world’s progress. More easily 
 might you chain the torrent at Niagara’s flood with a rope 
 of straw than bind the sweep of such mens’ minds with 
 any conventionalities or any creed. More easily might 
 you confine the lightning within prison walls, than chain 
 their electric genius to the slow fate of parties and of in- 
 stitutional laws. They must shoot for themselves so 
 long as 
 
 Justice nerves the arm, 
 
 And Truth strains the bow, 
 
 Right lies bleeding in the dust, 
 
 And Evil breathes a foe. 
 
 They must think and speak for themselves as long as 
 Genius shall [day upon the golden harp of the human 
 mind, and the finger of Destiny shall touch the lips of 
 man. This principle of Individuality is not only violated 
 in the career, and history of man, hut is ignored by the 
 destinies which preside over the life of generations and 
 ages. Generations living seem but to re-enact the part 
 of generations lost, and ages , seem hut to reproduce the 
 old lifeless scenes which have been passed in the drama 
 of the world. Even to-day, though the noon of the nine- 
 teenth century has passed away, mankind are so helpless 
 in their dependence upon ancient systems, so lost in the 
 lifeless refuse of centuries, that they recoil with terror 
 and fear at any progressive change, and rise, as if to block 
 the rotation of destiny’s wheel, which surely turns the 
 world towards its silent hut better fate. They ride back 
 upon the tide of the world’s experience, to linger and 
 mourn over the solitary ruins of vanished greatness, and 
 to wander among the deserted scenes where genius has 
 slumbered for centuries ; while the present is ever flowing 
 with the holiest means, and the golden tide of opportun- 
 ity is flowing away, sweeping its greatest advantages to 
 the sea of the ever-lost. They ponder upon the myster- 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 156 
 
 ies and lifeless conventionalities, which for ages, have pos- 
 sessed the mind of the world, like an idle dream, as though 
 each age has not brains enough to write its own stories, 
 to produce its own philosophy, and to live upon its own 
 unforgotten love. Thus generations lose their indepen- 
 dence, and grow up like sickly wild flowers, upon the low- 
 ly ruins of departed life. Thus man loses his inviduality 
 and chilled with the desert winds of life, sits shivering 
 upon the iceberg of popular customs. When shall the 
 spirit of self reliance arouse the slumbering energies of 
 man and break the enchantment of the past, which binds 
 the world in bondage worse than death ? When shall 
 man’s exiled nature regain its lost dominions, and restore 
 the degenerate slave of party creed and fashion, to his 
 royal estate again ? When man shall lift himself into 
 the ideal of his highest existence, and daring to be free 
 shall step forth unveiled, alone and untrammeled, then 
 shall the world behold herself in man, for he shall move 
 an empire within himself — a Prince upon the throne, 
 whose reign shall be a life of usefulness, casting golden 
 sunbeams upon every zone. 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLAllKE RICE. 
 
 157 
 
 Oration and Valedictory Address Delivered before the 
 
 Calliopean Society , Fairfield Academy. 
 
 THE PROBLEM OF THE HOUR. 
 
 To-day the American People are to solve a mighty 
 practical problem of National History — one whose demon- 
 stration involves the great issue of ages and of the pro- 
 gress and the future destiny of the world. The awful 
 consequences which will necessarily he developed in the 
 internal struggle that is now going on in this land, will 
 not only effect the fate of the American Union and the 
 Government of the Nation, hut will involve the grand 
 universal Ideas and Principles, that underlie the history, 
 and practical policy of Nations throughout the world, and 
 even sweejD the golden harp-cords, that string the bosom 
 of the future, and thus sound the notes of weal or woe, on 
 the opening ears of Posterity. For really, this is not a 
 war of section against section, of state against state, of 
 empire against empire, but a struggle between hostile 
 forces, that are inspired and impelled onward by antagon- 
 istic principles, and purposes. Hence it is really a con- 
 test of principles, for dominion, — of Barbarism against 
 Civilization, of darkness against light, of slavery against 
 freedom. And in view of the exalted position which this 
 country occupies among the powers of the globe, and 
 the relation which the issue of this great and momentous 
 struggle sustains to the history of the world, it must ne- 
 cessarily vibrate upon the feelings of the world, through- 
 out all places and all times. It is true, that we see the two 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 158 
 
 great sections of our common country arrayed against 
 each other, in a most horrid civil war. Yet is it not cer- 
 tain that the South are waging this war against the Fed- 
 eral Government and the Union, solely because they were 
 unfavorable to human oppression, and resisted the pro- 
 gress and dominion of African Slavery, and that the loyal 
 freemen of the North have rallied under the glorious old 
 standard sheet of the Nation, pledged to defend it as the 
 palladium of freedom and the only guarantee of our per- 
 sonal liberties ? The one struggles to rear a national 
 throne of Human Slavery on the melancholy ruins of the 
 American Union while the other labors to maintain the 
 Union as the asylum of oppressed humanity and to hang 
 the beacon lights of Liberty in the watch-towers of the 
 Republic. And thus we see that two great antagonistic 
 ideas underlie the mighty military movements of the two 
 sections — that two irreconcilable principles and interests 
 constitute the motive power, the very life, spirit and soul 
 of the two contending forces in the land. It is absolutely 
 an undeniable proposition that the aggressive demands, 
 and necessities of slavery impelled the South to organize 
 this unholy crusade against the Union, and the cherished 
 institutions of our Country which are the common inher- 
 itance of the American people, that the inhuman pro-slavery 
 interest of the Southern oligarchy constitute the very heart 
 and brain of this gigantic Rebellion against the Govern- 
 ment of the land, and whose supreme purpose is the na- 
 tionalization of human bondage in the sad ruins of American 
 Liberty. Therefore nature, justice and history all unite 
 in dictating that the Loyal North as the legitimate Pow- 
 er of the Nation in this emergency should pursue the 
 policy of Universal Emancipation, of removing the evil 
 cause that hurled us into the perils of this hour, as the only 
 measure that can put down rebellion forever, save the 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLAEKE RICE. 
 
 159 
 
 Union and the Country from destruction, and perpetuate 
 them despite the storms of ages. Slavery being the soul 
 of Rebellion to-day, Freedom must be the moving spirit 
 of Loyalty. Otherwise there would he no conflict be- 
 tween Loyalty and Rebellion. Therefore if Loyalty would 
 crush Rebellion, it must first destroy its soul, which is 
 Slavery, and of course Rebellion would soon expire. But 
 if treason would suppress the genius of Loyalty it must 
 first extinguish its life-spirit which is Freedom and then 
 Loyalty will droop and wither from the world. What 
 American patriot does not believe that the South, if she 
 could succeed in her nefarious designs of revolution, would 
 immediately spread its horrid incubus of human bondage 
 over the fair bosom of the Continent. Then why should 
 not the North, being her natural enemy in this struggle, 
 banish Slavery forever, and proclaim white-robed Liberty 
 the absolute Queen of the Empire. In times of war, the 
 irresistible logic of events quickly works a revolution in 
 public sentiment, and attunes the harmonic voice of the 
 popular soul to the charms of another song. Already the 
 great and generous heart of the people at the North be- 
 gins to respond to the anxious cries of four millions of 
 slaves, and to have its mighty pulse-beats of conviction, 
 like a thousand battering-rams against the Throne of the 
 Administration, urging it to issue- an edict of uncondi- 
 tional emancipation to all the slaves in the land. But 
 still hoary-headed conservatism, like a startled ghost 
 rising from the silent tomb of the past, and robed in a 
 thousand musty parchments, shudders with terror at this 
 proposition, because it may not be in strict accordance 
 with the very letter in written law. But how groundless 
 the fear ! How absurd the objection ! The civil law 
 of the State forbids murder. But when a man’s life is 
 menaced by an infamous assassin, then self-preservation 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 160 
 
 becomes the supreme law and the civil law is ignored. — 
 He slays the villain and the highest law both of Heaven 
 and Earth justify the act. But now when our beloved 
 country reels under the crushing blow of a gigantic re- 
 bellion, and trembles before the darkest conspiracy of 
 traitors ; when the power of Slavery threatens to found 
 its empire on the wreck of national Freedom, must the 
 Constitution be the altar on which she is to be sacrificed ? 
 No. Let her preserve herself from the tomb of National 
 ruin, by sweeping with one mighty effort, rebellious 
 traitors, and Slavery together from the continent, and the 
 moral sense of the world will sound the praise and glory 
 of America. Systems of oppression are inhuman and un- 
 natural and hence they cannot be permanent and enduring. 
 And a Republic that recognizes Slavery one of its funda- 
 mental institutions is. a palpable contradiction, a gross 
 absurdity, and a lie, for it pretends to blend the two poles 
 of social existence in social harmony and union. Surely 
 unless the strong arm of the Government hurls the dis- 
 turbing element of Slavery from the household of the 
 Nation, it must totter and fall. Therefore the exigencies 
 of the hour demand the absolute abolition of this nefa- 
 rious system of legalized oppression, as a military necessi- 
 ty, as a measure of justice and mercy, as a strong means 
 of self-preservation. Surely this great country, this 
 highest Heaven in the realm of nations, is worth more 
 than all the written constitutions of the Earth and let us 
 save it as the home of freemen though the vo,ice of the 
 Constitution should be hushed for awhile amid the din of 
 resounding arms. 
 
 After Cains Marius had been driven a harmless exile 
 from his native land, when he embarked from Carthage 
 and again landed in Italy with the view of a march to 
 Rome to regain his lost position as Consul of the Eternal 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 161 
 
 City, lie proclaimed liberty to all the slaves who would 
 rally under his standard. Soon he had a large and pow- 
 erful army under his command and he marched against 
 the Capital of the civilized world. The people entreated 
 Octavius, the Consul of the Nation, to issue an edict of 
 Emancipation to all the slvaes.that would join in the at- 
 tempt to defend the City from the invasion of an ambi- 
 tious usurper. But he was uninfluenced by their urgent 
 request and responded, “that he would not grant such 
 persons the freedom of the city in defence of whose Con- 
 stitution he kept out Marius.” The mighty portals of 
 Rome were opened before the invading fofces. Octavius 
 was dragged from the tribunal and Marius again held the 
 helm of Empire. Plutarch says that the cause of the 
 Government did not suffer so much from its own weak- 
 ness as by the anxious and unwise* regard of Octavius for 
 the Constitution and by not freeing the slaves. 
 
 We see what Marius accomplished by Emancipation ; 
 but let us hope that the Administration will not repeat 
 the example of Octavius in the history of this American 
 struggle, and thus bring upon this Nation the melancholy 
 fate of Rome. Perhaps the loyal power of the Nation 
 can re-establish its authority over the country without a 
 measure of emancipation, but it can ne^r crush the fiery 
 spirit of rebellion without the abolition of Slavery. Be- 
 fore we can put down this great sectional conspiracy, we 
 must subjugate the South, and before we can do this we 
 must weaken and scatter the mighty army that sits on the 
 very threshold of the National Capital. Let the Admin- 
 istration launch the bomb-shell of emancipat'on into the 
 very heart of the Rebellion, which is Slavery. WI o does 
 not believe that the -whole South would tremble with fear 
 and that their army would be scattered to save their homes 
 their families and their wealth from woe and destruction? 
 
 ♦21 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OP 
 
 162 
 
 Then rise up, twenty millions of Northern freemen! ye 
 children of Washington, ye friends of glorious Union ! — 
 Breathe into the mighty soul of the Administration the 
 spirit and inspiration of freedom. Nerve the strong arm 
 of the Government with your loyalty and your patriotism. 
 Quicken the mighty pulse-throbs of the Nation’s heart 
 with cheerful words and noble deeds. Rekindle the ex- 
 piring hope of the world and aid in putting down the trai- 
 tors of your country. Then, soon in the midst of a Na- 
 tional jubilee, the celestial angel of Peace shall again 
 spread her white wings over the whole land. Justice, like 
 a heaven-lit rainbow shall bend over the people on which 
 Liberty robed in light shall sit and guide the fortunes of 
 the free. 
 
 Valedictory Address. 
 
 Fellow Calliopeans and Friends : — Time waits for 
 no man ; nor can man resist the tide and linger around 
 any period of his life. Indeed human existence is but a 
 continued succession of events, and those events follow 
 one another as fleeting shadows chase each other across 
 the sun. Moments that make up eternity drop quickly 
 through the clepsidra of the world and ere we know it, 
 the period of an anniversary runs through, which closes 
 the circle of the' year. It seems but a little while ago 
 since we met as a Society to commemorate such a period, 
 but since then we have been swept around by the silent 
 revolution of a year, and by that revolution some have 
 been attracted to us, and many have been flung from our 
 association, to fill their appointed niches in the destiny of 
 the world. And again we recall the record of an expiring 
 year by rehearsing the. story of our experience, and trac- 
 ing our prospects as presaged by the shadows of the past, 
 we would cast a horoscope of our future career Although 
 memory can look back and inspire gladness from the 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 163 
 
 scenes of a cheerful past, nevertheless that past will ever 
 brine- also its sadness to our hearts for its realities have 
 robbed us of friends and chances which the future can nev- 
 er replace. Life’s cold necessities soon snap asunder the 
 golden ties of feeling, sympathy and interest, which bind 
 individuals in fraternity and unity. Indeed we are but 
 pawns and knights on the chess-board of the world, and 
 with whom Chance and Fate are ever playing the game 
 of life, and although we contract strong friendship for 
 each other, yet we cannot be long together, for Chance 
 moves quickly, and as il to win till we shall all' be swept 
 forever from the board. 
 
 Thus those who but a little while ago were joined to 
 our association by. all the ties of nature and interest, have 
 been snatched form it forever to fulfill life’s mission and 
 seek their fortunes in the lottery of a gambling world. — 
 Their familiar voices break no more on our anxious ears, 
 and if we ask, “Where in the world are they ?,” echo will 
 alone mock us with its sad response. Fortune has scat- 
 tered them like forest trees swept by an Autumn gale ; 
 and now some may be climbing the giddy hights of hu- 
 man glory, while others, less fortunate, may be wander-, 
 ing in solitude through a gloomy destiny. Many may be 
 nobly struggling in the cause of Nature,- of our country, 
 and of man ; and some, perchance, are sleeping the slum- 
 bers of the tomb. Although, as friends, their worn spir- 
 its linger with us still, yet as associates their long absence 
 tells a mournful tale. Though their noble deeds and acts 
 of kindness bloom as pleasant and unfading recollections 
 in our memories, yet they have left an eternal void in our 
 little company, which none but they could ever fill. 
 
 I cannot hope to exalt their merits in the world’s care- 
 ful estimation, for no word of favor can magnify the worth 
 and beauties of a worthy character. But when we behold 
 
LETTERS AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 164 
 
 tliem snatched away from us forever, what heart can but 
 heave with a struggling sigh, and who will nyt lift up his 
 willing voice to swell the tribute of their praise ? Al- 
 though but a short space of time has passed into eternity 
 since we first met as members of the same association, and 
 became linked together in the bonds of a common interest, 
 yet who can estimate the untold blessings that have beam- 
 ed forth upon us from that interval, like inspiring rays 
 of golden sunlight, gilding the innermost ^“triples of our 
 beings with coruscations of joy and gladness. It has 
 been a season ot bur lives that has revealed many great 
 truths to the thoughtful understanding. It has yielded 
 to us the highest advantages, and been fruitful in the no- 
 blest opportunities ; and I hope we have not journeyed 
 through it without gathering many lessons of wisdom, for 
 every moment has related an important story, and the 
 voice of buried ages has whispered ever in our ears. 
 
 We are wandering through life’s labyrinthian halls, as 
 so many flaming torches, but as they glimmer so dimly, 
 man alone would hardly be able to<grope the winding way 
 through the darkness which settles over his pathway, but 
 as we happen to meet and chance to have a comrade in 
 our travels, we wisely let our individual lights flow to- 
 gether, and mingle in a common volume, and thus our 
 course has been made plain and easy, and we have moved 
 on harmoniously together. But alas ! we cannot be long 
 thus with each other, for as the thousand rills that con- 
 verge and blend in a common channel and sweep ever on- 
 ward in their courses to mingle with the waters of the 
 broad ocean, so have we met in a common channel and 
 have been borne swittly downward in our course of destiny 
 by the impetuous current, soon to be separated forever 
 and lost from each other in' the stormy sea of a battling 
 world. And though we may make but little ripples on 
 
LIEUT. ADAM CLARKE RICE. 
 
 165 
 
 the broad surface of that sea, yet surely we shall stir it s 
 lowest depths, and help modulate the music of its thun- 
 dering voice. But now when we linger on the shores of 
 the world’s unknown future, about to embark on the many 
 tides that roll hack in a hundred courses, let us speak 
 kind words of advice and encouragement to each other, for 
 they may vibrate forever on our ears. Truly, we are the 
 children ot fortune, who have inherited the wealth of gen- 
 erations ; pupils who may ever study the story of the 
 world’s experience, the lessons of ages forever gone. If 
 you avail yourselves of these transcendent pivileges, life 
 to you can he hut a pleasant journey and your destiny 
 brilliant and sublime. And to the extent of these privil- 
 eges and advantages, your duties and responsibilities will 
 he measured by the demands of society We are passing 
 through the school of existence, and that school is the 
 mirror of the coming century, and in it germinates the 
 hope of the world. We are not only learning the lesson 
 which shall guide us through the storms and rugged pass- 
 es of our existence, hut are helping form the mold in 
 which is to be cast the future destiny of a mighty people. 
 No proud aristocracy rules the fortune of our beloved 
 country. Ours is a commonwealth of princes, every man 
 being a pillar of the Nation. We have no order of nobil- 
 ity, but the royalty of man and manhood is the highest 
 prerogative of Americans. Your great duties bespeak the 
 sublimity and grandeur of your mission, and if you would 
 fulfill your true mission, and work-out a glorious destiny, 
 you must first learn the lesson of self-acquaintance. Be- 
 cause he who knows himself, can teach any key in human 
 nature, and he who can play skillfully on the subtle ten 
 thousand feelings that string the lyre of humanity, can 
 produce strains of music that will drown the command of 
 potentates and charm the world with their melody. 
 
LETTERS AND .WRITINGS OF 
 
 166 
 
 Now, kind friends, what glowing scenes of memory urge 
 you onward ? What alluring prospects that crown the 
 towering eminences of futurity, invite you upward to glo- 
 ry and to fame ? To-day you are to decide whether your 
 names shall perish as unmeaning words written in the 
 sand, or whether your names shall shine forever as spot- 
 less jewels in the history of the world and your exam- 
 ples call torth the admiration of mankiud, and radiate 
 like golden sun-beams far down the course of time. For 
 truly noble names are the worthiest keep-sakes of passing 
 generations, and every good deed shall ever glimmer upon 
 the world like a twinkling star, though wrapped in the 
 darkness of the night of ages. If you use the compass of 
 reason to mark out the courses of your lives, and justice 
 as the guiding star of your destiny, long hence, when you 
 shall he far out on the world’s broad sea, widely tossed 
 upon its boisterous billows, when this period shall have 
 grown dim in the distance, then your souls in dreamy rap- 
 ture may lean back upon the past, and become happy over 
 times and scenes blooming with pleasant and immortal 
 recollections ; while Hope may still stretch far down the 
 secret aisles of coming time, fancying bright visions 
 and gilding the remotest chambers of Futurity with 
 cheerfulness and joy. Then, one and all, with each 
 others memories treasured in our hearts, if come it must 
 as come it will, then we must all separate forever on the 
 world’s boundless deep. And where’er on its desert wat- 
 ers you may roam, may. your happiness be as deep as the 
 sea, and your hearts as light as the loam. 
 

 
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