IN WASHINGTON WITH THE SEVENTH.

On the evening of Saturday, April 13th, 1861, the intelligence reached New York that Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor, had yielded to the rebel authorities, after undergoing a bombardment of thirty-six hours. It was felt by all that this act of violence closed the door of reconciliation, and dissipated every hope of a peaceful solution for our political difficulties. Two days afterward President Lincoln issued his proclamation calling upon the states for seventy-five thousand troops to reassert the authority of the government, to "cause the laws to be duly executed," and to "repossess the forts, places, and property" which had been seized from the Union. The first object of importance was to secure the safety of the national capital; and the President had expressed a desire that one regiment from New York, already organized and equipped, should be sent forward at once for that purpose.

Learning that the Seventh regiment had volunteered to meet this call, and that the assistant surgeon then attached to it had resigned the position, I applied to be taken in his place, and had the gratification to receive my appointment on Thursday the 18th. The regiment was under orders to assemble and start for Washington on the following day.

Meanwhile other states had also been exerting themselves to forward any militia regiments that could be had at short notice; and, as usual, when called upon to act, Massachusetts was the first in the field. Within three days after the President's proclamation, two regiments from that state, the Sixth and the Eighth, were on the move. The Sixth arrived in New York early on the morning of April 18th, by the N. Y. & New Haven railroad. The terminus of this road was then at Fourth Avenue and 27th Street, where I saw the regiment disembark and form in line, before proceeding on its march through the city. Its ranks had evidently been filled in some measure by new recruits, whose outfit by no means corresponded altogether with the regimental uniform. There were common overcoats and slouched hats mingled with the rest. But they were a solid and serviceable looking battalion; and it was a common remark that in such an emergency it was a good thing to see the men in line with their muskets before their uniforms were ready. This regiment was followed by the Eighth Massachusetts, which passed through the city twenty-four hours later.

But at that time every one bound for Washington was too busy with his own affairs to pay much attention to the movements of others; and the morning of the 19th was filled to the last moment with indispensable preparations. Early in the afternoon the Seventh regiment assembled at its armory, which was then on the east side of Third Avenue, between Sixth and Seventh Streets. It had received within the past few days some accessions in new recruits. Its regular members reported for duty in greater numbers than usual; and when finally ready for departure it paraded nearly a thousand muskets. From the armory it was marched by companies to Lafayette Place near by, where the line was formed and I took my place with the officers of the regimental staff.

Up to this time our attention had not been especially attracted to anything beyond our own immediate duties; and for a novice like myself they were occupation enough. There had been visiting friends and leave-takers at the armory, and in the adjoining streets there was the usual crowd of idlers and sight-seers about a militia parade. But when the regiment wheeled into column, and from the quiet enclosure of Lafayette Place passed into Broadway, the spectacle that met us was a revelation. From the curbstone to the top story, every building was packed with a dense mass of humanity. Men, women, and children covered the sidewalks, and occupied every window and balcony on both sides, as far as the eye could reach. The mass was alive all over with waving flags and handkerchiefs, and the cheers that came from it, right and left, filled the air with a mingled chorus of tenor and treble and falsetto voices. It was a sudden and surprising demonstration, as unlooked for as the transformation scene in a theatre. But that was hardly the beginning of it. Instead of spending itself in a short outburst of welcome, it ran along with the head of the column, was taken up at every step by those in front, and only died away in the rear. As the regiment moved on past one street after another, it seemed as if at every block the crowd grew denser and the uproar more incessant. Along the entire line of march, from Lafayette Place to Cortlandt Street, there was not a rod of space that was not thronged with spectators; and all the while the same continuous cry, from innumerable throats, kept up without a moment's intermission, from beginning to end.

No one could witness such a scene without being impressed by it. It was like the act of a drama magnified in its proportions a hundred fold, and with the added difference of being a reality. The longer it continued, the more it affected the senses and the mind; until at last one almost felt as if he were marching in a dream, half dazed by the endless repetition of unaccustomed sights and sounds.

Beside that, it gave us a different idea of the city of New York. For most of us, especially those of the younger generation, it was mainly a city of immigration, offering to all comers its varied opportunities for activity and enterprise. Hardly any one gave a thought to its local traditions, or believed in the existence of any unity of sentiment among its inhabitants. But now, all at once, it had risen up like an enormous family, with a single impulse of spontaneous enthusiasm, to declare that it valued loyalty and patriotism more than commerce or manufactures. The time and the occasion had brought out its latent qualities, and had given them an expression that no one could misunderstand.

When we turned from Broadway into Cortlandt Street the tumult partly subsided; but after crossing the ferry to Jersey City it began again. There were demonstrative crowds in the railroad depot, and as the train moved off they followed it with cheers that were repeated at every station on the route to Philadelphia. It did not take long to discover that transportation by railroad train, with a regiment of troops on board, was by no means a luxurious mode of traveling. With no seats to spare, many standing in the aisles, and the remaining space encumbered with arms and accoutrements, there was little opportunity for ease or comfort; and as for sleep, that was out of the question. Sometime after midnight we reached Philadelphia, and were transferred to the cars for Washington, at the depot of the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore railroad. But here our onward movement ceased. The train rested stationary in the depot. Expecting every moment the signal for starting, we could only wait patiently until it should come. Nevertheless the night wore away, the gray dawn found us still waiting, and no locomotive had even been coupled on to the train. What could be the cause of such delay, when everything demanded promptitude and celerity? We already knew that the Sixth Massachusetts, the pioneer regiment in advance, had been attacked the day before in the streets of Baltimore, and had only forced its way through the mob at the expense of fighting and bloodshed. Was our own march to be obstructed at the outset by a rebellious city, standing like a fortress across the route? Or were the railroad officials in sympathy with secession, and purposely hampering our movements by pretended friendship and false excuses? The Eighth Massachusetts, which had left New York some hours before us, was also in the depot, on board another train, equally helpless with ourselves, and apparently with as little prospect of getting away. As daylight came, we began to straggle out of the car-house and up and down the streets of what was then a rather desolate looking neighborhood. The necessity of foraging for breakfast gave us for a while some little diversion and occupation; but that was soon over, and all the forenoon our uneasiness was on the increase. Who could tell what might be happening even then at the national capital? And thus far we had barely accomplished one third of the distance from New York to Washington. There were interviews and consultations between the field officers and the railroad authorities; and General Benjamin F. Butler, who was in command of both Massachusetts regiments, also appeared upon the scene. But for the rest of us there was little food for thought beyond rumors, doubts, and surmises. So we kept on rambling to and fro near the depot, and wondering when this thing would come to an end.

Toward noon some information began to filter through from headquarters, and we came to understand, more or less distinctly, what was going on. In reality the state of affairs was this. The railroad managers were as anxious as ourselves to facilitate the transportation of the regiment; but they had no means of overcoming the difficulties of the situation. The tracks through Baltimore had been obstructed with barricades, so that the cars could not pass. Even if these should be cleared away, there was no certainty that the company could retain control of the depots and rolling stock on the other side of the city. That would depend on the coöperation of the police and perhaps of the city militia, neither of which were felt to be reliable. In fact, the Governor of Maryland and the Mayor of Baltimore had both sent despatches strongly objecting to the further passage of troops through the city in its present excited and disorderly condition. Between the Maryland state line and Baltimore there were two railroad bridges, crossing the Little Gunpowder and Bush rivers; and both these bridges had been destroyed by secessionists during the night. To repair them would need the protection of an armed force, and would be a matter of further uncertainty and delay. The object of the regiment was to reach Washington at the earliest possible moment; and for that purpose the route by Baltimore was evidently impracticable.

The next accessible point was Annapolis on the Chesapeake Bay, where the grounds of the United States Naval Academy, located at the harbor, offered an additional advantage. It could be reached by either of two ways. The Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore railroad runs direct from Philadelphia to the mouth of the Susquehanna river, at the head of Chesapeake Bay, where at that time there was no bridge, the cars being taken across on a steam ferry-boat, the Maryland, from one side to the other. The troops might be carried by rail to this point; and then, taking possession of the ferry-boat, might go down the bay, past the harbor of Baltimore, to Annapolis. This was the route selected by General Butler for the Eighth Massachusetts. Our commanding officer, on the other hand, Colonel Lefferts, decided to charter at once a steamer capable of taking the regiment from Philadelphia round by sea to the capes of Virginia, and so up Chesapeake Bay to Annapolis.

This was accordingly done. The regiment was paraded, marched down to the pier, and embarked on the Boston, a freight and passenger steamer formerly running between Philadelphia and New York. Her capacity was just sufficient to receive so large a company with the necessary supplies; and when all were on board there was hardly more freedom of space than we had found in the railroad cars. But no more time was lost in waiting. That afternoon carried us down the river; by sunset we had entered Delaware Bay; and the next morning, which was Sunday, the 21st, we were fairly at sea, headed south for the capes of Virginia.

All that day we ploughed on over a smooth sea, with a fair wind, a bright sun and a clear sky. The scene everywhere was exhilarating; and the interest of the expedition increased every hour with the uncertainty of what lay before us. We were approaching a region where all was on the border line between loyalty and secession, and which included the most important military and naval positions in the country,—Hampton Roads, Fortress Monroe, and the Norfolk Navy Yard. Intelligence from these points was eagerly looked for, and early in the afternoon, when nearing the capes, we came within hailing distance of a schooner bound north under full sail. The information she gave us was that of the destruction of Norfolk Navy Yard and its abandonment by the United States authorities. This had been done the day before by order of the navy department, to prevent the ships and ordnance falling into the hands of the rebels. It was the best thing to do in the emergency. All the ships left there had been scuttled, the guns spiked and the buildings burned; and the enemy in possession could not have made anything serviceable for aggressive purposes under at least a month. But we were ignorant of these details. We learned only that the navy yard was lost; and for anything we knew to the contrary, Hampton Roads might already be patrolled by rebel gun-boats, and even Fortress Monroe might have shared the fate of the navy yard. In that case, it would be no place for an unarmed transport, loaded with troops. As we entered Chesapeake Bay and passed by the suspicious locality, many eyes were turned in that direction; and when fairly out of reach of Hampton Roads, all felt relieved that our way to Annapolis was once more clear.

That night our course lay up the Chesapeake, and at dawn on the 22d we were anchored in the harbor of Annapolis. But to the impatient and inexperienced volunteers it seemed as though the complications of our journey were to have no end. General Butler had arrived the day before from the head of the bay with the Eighth Massachusetts regiment, on the steamer Maryland; and he had rendered good service in saving the United States school ship Constitution from a threatened rebel attack by towing her out from shore toward the harbor entrance. But in doing so his own steamer had grounded on a shallow bar, where she was now lying hard and fast, with the Massachusetts troops still on board. The first thing to do was to release her, if possible, from this awkward predicament. Our vessel, the Boston, was again put under steam, and harnessed with heaving-line and hawser to the ferry-boat. Then she would go to work like a willing draught-horse, and pull this way and that for five minutes together, straining every nerve to start her clumsy load, but without effect. Her paddles only brought up from the bottom such clouds of yellow foam that it made the narrow harbor look like an enormous mud-puddle; and with every new attempt we began to think that instead of floating the Maryland we should, in all likelihood, get stuck fast ourselves. Finally, much to our relief, it was decided to land the regiment and stores from the Boston, and wait for another tide to liberate the Maryland.

So, in the afternoon the regiment landed and occupied the grounds of the Naval Academy. There we found that many of the officers and cadets had left for their southern homes, to side with the rebellion. Even some of those who remained were by no means encouraging in their words or manner; they were impregnated with the doctrine of state sovereignty, as something equal or superior to that of the nation, and they had an exaggerated idea of the numbers and audacity of the insurgents who would occupy all roads and dispute every mile of our advance. One of them told me that he hoped that we would not attempt it; and declared that if we did so, not half the regiment would reach Washington alive. I shall never forget the disgust that rose in my throat, at hearing a man with the uniform of the United States on his shoulders offer a welcome like that to volunteers who were trying to save the government that employed him.

The Governor of Maryland, who was then at Annapolis, also protested against any forward movement of the troops, and even against their landing. But these official fulminations had no longer any weight. It was only the physical obstacles in our way that were now to be considered. In the evening the officers gathered in council round a fire on the greensward, and it was decided to move forward at once by the most practicable route. While this was going on, General Butler joined the group and was invited to speak with the rest. The extraordinary character of this man's career from first to last, his many clever successes and preposterous failures, and the furious denunciations he has received from both friends and enemies, make it hard to say what place he will finally hold in public estimation. But the qualities he displayed on that occasion deserve the cordial recognition and gratitude of all. When he spoke, it was to the purpose. With a practical insight and ready comprehension that took in the situation at a glance, he swept away in a few words the whole pretentious fabric of state rights, local supremacy, inviolability of the soil, and such like. The capital of the nation, he said, was in danger from armed rebellion. We were on our way to protect it with an armed force. That was a state of war; and it created a necessity superior to every other claim or consideration. All ordinary laws and authorities in conflict with it must be in abeyance; and, as for himself, he should lead his troops to Washington, no matter who or what might oppose his passage. More than that, he should seize upon any property or means of transportation necessary to accomplish the object, without regard to governors, mayors, or railroad companies.

I have no doubt that the Seventh regiment would have carried out its design if General Butler had not been there; but it was certain that his intellectual promptitude and directness of speech imparted new confidence to all who heard him. He struck the same chord in his written correspondence with Governor Hicks. During the day he had received from the governor a formal communication, protesting against the "landing of northern troops on the soil of Maryland;"—to which he said in his reply: "These are not northern troops, they are a part of the whole militia of the United States, obeying the call of the President." Now that the question is settled, it seems plain enough. But at that time it was a great satisfaction to hear the doctrine of supreme nationality proclaimed in the terse and expressive language of General Butler.

It was intended that the regiment should march for Washington by the direct country road, a distance of about thirty miles; and much of the time next day was spent in scouring the neighborhood for horses, mules, and wagons, to serve as ambulances and for transporting the baggage and camp equipage. But in the afternoon dispatches were received from Washington, directing the troops to come, if possible, by the Annapolis branch of the Baltimore and Washington railroad, in order that this important line of communication might be kept open for future use. This was a single-track road, running twenty miles northwest from Annapolis to its junction with the Baltimore and Washington line. The depot at Annapolis was closed and abandoned by the company, and the track had been disabled for some distance out of town. When General Butler, with two companies of the Eighth Massachusetts, broke open the depot, he found there a few passenger and platform cars, with only one locomotive; and that had been taken to pieces and rendered unserviceable. But the Massachusetts regiment was largely composed of mechanics, who were not only good workmen but enterprising and quick-witted. By a singular chance one of them recognized, among the fragments of the engine, a piece of machinery which he had himself helped to make; and he lost no time, with the aid of his comrades, in putting together again the disjointed limbs of the locomotive, and making it in a few hours once more fit for work. Others repaired the railroad track in the neighborhood, and before dawn on the 24th everything was ready for two companies of the Seventh to move forward as advance guard on the line of march.

Soon after daylight the whole regiment was in motion. The locomotive and a couple of platform cars were in front, carrying a howitzer with its caisson; and one or two passenger and baggage cars served to carry baggage and camp equipage, and to provide for the transportation of sick or wounded. The railroad embankment, which was our only route, ran through a narrow clearing in the woods, with low hills and swampy lands alternating on either side. The day was still and warm, and a few of the men were prostrated by the unaccustomed exertion and heat. About noon we came up with the advance guard, and from that point, after a short halt, all moved on together. Missing rails and broken culverts were a constant impediment to our advance; and toward evening we came to a deep and wide watercourse, where the long trestle bridge had been burned a day or two before. But these obstacles only seemed to stimulate the volunteers. Heretofore their annoyances and disappointments had been from causes beyond their control. Now that every difficulty was within reach, they went at it with a will, and thought of nothing but how to overcome it. The ruined bridge hardly delayed them three hours. The engineer officer and his men went into the woods on each side, where a hundred busy hands were soon at work, felling trees and hauling them into place; and before dark, the stream was spanned by a new bridge of rough-hewn timbers that carried the train over safely, and our march began again.

So it went on all through the night. The missing rails had often been thrown, for better concealment, into some deep pool or watercourse near by. But after a little experience, that was the very first place where they were sought for and generally found. If the search proved ineffectual, it made little difference at last; for at every siding the extra rails were taken up and carried forward on the train, to be used as they might be needed further on. So the track was made serviceable for ourselves, and left in good condition for those who were to follow. There was a line of skirmishers in front and one on each flank, to beat up the enemy, should he be there lying in wait. Once or twice a few marauders were sighted, tearing up the rails or reconnoitering our advance; but they all retreated promptly, without firing a shot or waiting for the head of the column, and none of them were even seen by the main body. That was all. The desperate resistance we were expected to meet with from swarming rebels and armed guerrillas turned out to be a sham. When the advance guard about daylight occupied the village of Annapolis Junction, there was no opposition. The regiment took possession of a deserted station, and the railroad communication with Washington at last was ours.

It is remarkable how greatly the presence of an armed force conduces to friendly feeling on the part of the inhabitants. No doubt the secessionists hereabout had done their best for a few days past to prevent our ever arriving at Annapolis Junction. But now that we were there, and especially in need of a freshly cooked breakfast, there was little difficulty in obtaining one for the officers' mess. The fatigue and drowsiness that had been almost overpowering during the night, gave way like magic before the refreshing stimulus of the dawn; and the keen morning air awakened an appetite that demanded something better than pork and hardbread from the haversack. Among the neighboring farmhouses there were some quite ready to supply our wants.

Early in the forenoon a train made its appearance from the direction of Washington. It had been sent out to meet us, under guard of a detachment of National Rifles, a volunteer company of the District of Columbia; and we were soon on board and under way. The cars were crowded to the utmost; but we were now nearing our destination, and every discomfort seemed a trifle. For some distance this side of Washington the road was picketed; and before long we began to see at intervals the head and shoulders of a National Rifleman, with his fresh looking uniform and glittering bayonet, peering at us over the bushes as the train went by. Finally, about noon, the city came in sight. It was Thursday, the 25th. We had been six days in getting from New York to Washington. They had been days of doubt and anxiety, of hindrances, delays, and stoppages. Every hour was precious, and yet we knew that with all possible dispatch we might still be too late. And even now, at the outskirts of the city, we could hardly help looking to see whether the flag of the nation still floated over the Capitol. The train rolled into the depot, the regiment disembarked, formed in column, marched to the White House, reported to the President, and our journey to Washington was accomplished.

There was no doubt about the sense of relief created by our arrival. After nearly a week of isolation and peril, Washington breathed more freely. The only troops there before us were the Sixth Massachusetts, a handful of regulars, and about thirty volunteer companies of the District of Columbia, mainly recent recruits. The Seventh was a full regiment, well disciplined and thoroughly equipped. What was of still more consequence, it had opened the door of Annapolis and reëstablished communication with the north. The Eighth Massachusetts arrived next day from Annapolis Junction; and within another week one more regiment from Massachusetts and four from New York followed by the same route. After that, the city of Baltimore ceased to be an obstruction, and the trains came through from Philadelphia as usual. By the middle of May there were nearly twenty-five thousand troops gathered for the defense of Washington.

For the first week after our arrival we were quartered in the Capitol building; but at the end of that time the regiment went into camp a mile or so north of the city, on Meridian Hill. This was a plateau of about forty acres, admirably adapted for the purpose. It was on the direct road to Harper's Ferry, where the rebels were in possession, and would give security against incursions from that quarter. The camp was on the east side of the road, where there was a fine suburban estate, with a large, square-built mansion house and outbuildings. From the road entrance a well graded avenue led up to the house porch, which stretched its hospitable covering over the carriage way. The house was occupied by regimental headquarters and the staff officers. In front were green fields and orchards, falling away in a gentle slope toward the city; and beyond was the broad Potomac, with the Virginia shore and Arlington Heights in the distance. In the rear were the lines of company tents, and an ample parade-ground, where the regiment was reviewed every day or two by the President, the Secretary of War, the general commanding, or some other high civil or military official, who was usually as much an object of inspection to the troops as the troops were to him.

By degrees other camps began to spring up round about us. On the opposite side of the road were three regiments of New Jersey volunteers, under General Runyon. A field in front of us was the daily exercise ground of a mounted battery of the regular army; and farther down, on the left, was the Twelfth regiment of New York volunteers. The Eleventh New York, under Colonel Ellsworth, was in camp below the city beyond the navy yard. This regiment was affiliated with our own through its second officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Farnham, who had been until then a lieutenant in the Seventh, and had commanded the skirmish line in the march from Annapolis.

The time was coming when the regiment would have something else to do than drilling and camp duty. Washington was saved from the danger that menaced it at the outset; and so long as the troops were there, it was secure from a sudden inroad. But it had no permanent defenses. The Potomac River was the limit of its territory. On the opposite shore the rising ground of Arlington Heights commanded all approaches from that direction; and every day, with a good spyglass, we could see the fluttering of a secession flag in the little city of Alexandria, only six or seven miles away. This was a precarious situation for the seat of government and centre of military operations; and no one was surprised when it made an attempt to burst its shackles.

On the 23d of May, at midnight, the regiment was put in motion and marched down through the city, to the neighborhood of the Long Bridge. Its departure had been quiet and noiseless, as if the expedition were a secret to all but the commanding officer. It soon appeared, however, from signs that the uninitiated are not slow to comprehend, that something more was going on than the night march of the regiment. The order to halt came from other sources to our own commander. After some delay, a part of the New Jersey brigade came up from the rear and passed on in advance; and there was riding here and there of officers and messengers, going and coming in various directions. Nevertheless, everything was done in silence. Not even the occupants of the neighboring houses seemed to be awakened or disturbed; and it gave to the scene a mysterious kind of interest to feel that we were on some errand that neither friends nor enemies were to know of until it was accomplished.

Again our column was on the march, and we soon found ourselves at the entrance of the Long Bridge. We passed between the two guard-houses, under the black timbers of the draw-frame, and over its three quarters of a mile of roadway to the Virginia shore. It was the first hour of a moonlight night, and half a mile farther on, at daybreak, the regiment was halted and went into bivouac on an open field by the roadside.

Not long after sunrise a horseman came clattering along the road from the direction of Alexandria, and as he galloped by toward the bridge, he flung out to us the news, "Alexandria is taken, and Colonel Ellsworth is killed."

This was one of the minor events in the early part of the war that excited a wide-spread interest, mainly from the dramatic features of the incident. The Eleventh New York had reached Alexandria by steamer, and landed there about daylight. Immediately after disembarking, Colonel Ellsworth had left his regiment, and with a small squad hastened to secure the telegraph office, to prevent communication with the south. That done, he noticed, flying above the principal hotel in the town, a secession flag. It was the flag we had seen so often for the last fortnight from the direction of Washington. The colonel effected an entrance, and with his companions mounted to the roof, hauled down the flag, and brought it away with him. When about halfway down he was shot dead by the keeper of the hotel, who was lying in wait for him with a double-barreled gun. Instantly the soldier next him discharged his musket in the face of the homicide, and, driving his bayonet through his breast, hurled his body down the remaining stairway; so that within a minute both the colonel and his assailant were dead men. None of those in the hotel knew of the arrival of the regiment, and probably thought they had to do only with a few raiders from abroad.

This news of the occupation of Alexandria was our first intimation of the actual extent of the movement we were engaged in. The truth was that between midnight and dawn about 12,000 men had crossed the Potomac by the two bridges at Washington and Georgetown, beside the Eleventh regiment which went by steamer. They were to hold and fortify a defensive line extending from below Alexandria, around Arlington Heights, to the Potomac River above Georgetown; comprising, when all complete, a chain of twenty-three forts, for the permanent security of the city on its southern side. Our own destination was a locality not far from our first bivouac, and where the New Jersey troops, who had gone before, were already breaking ground for the trenches.

Next day the men of the Seventh were also set to work with pick and spade and barrow, excavating the ditch and piling up the rampart along the lines laid down by the engineers. One fatigue party followed another, all doing their best, like so many ants on an ant-hill; and before night the place began to look something like a fortification. When finished it was the largest of those on the south side of the river, occupying a space of about fourteen acres. It was an inclosed bastioned work, covering the two forks of the road; one leading south to Alexandria, the other southwest toward Fairfax Court House. It defended the Long Bridge, and secured its possession for ingress and egress. It was named Fort Runyon, in honor of the general commanding the New Jersey brigade.

After a few days on the Virginia shore, the regiment was ordered back to its camp at Meridian Hill. It had been mustered into service for one month, to meet an emergency which was now past. Orders for its return north were received on the 30th of May; and on the 31st it broke camp and embarked for New York, arriving there on the 1st of June. It was then mustered out of service, having been under arms forty-three days.

This was the "Washington campaign" of the Seventh regiment. It was a campaign without a battle, and the regiment was not once under fire from the enemy. Its only casualties were one man killed in camp by the accidental discharge of a musket, and another wounded in the leg by his own pistol. But it came to the front at a time when one battalion for the moment was more needed than a brigade afterward. Though mustered out as a regiment, it at once began to supply material for other organizations. Of its members in 1861, more than six hundred entered the service during the war; over fifty became regimental commanders; from twenty to thirty, brigadier-generals; and more than one reached the grade of major-general. With all this depletion, its ranks were kept tolerably full by new recruits, and it was twice afterward called into the field for temporary duty, once in 1862, and again in 1863.