1863.] CURIOUS BLUNDER OF THE TELEGRAPH. 307 the enemy's guns than a nameless grave in the swamps of the Chickahominy or the trenches before Corinth. Ordered to move, Burnside obeyed without quibbling or hesitating, and flung his army upon the Rebels. The result was defeat; but that policy proved our salvation at last; by that sign we conquered. Every private soldier knew that the battle of Fredericksburg was a costly and bloody mistake, and yet I think on the day or the week following it, the soldiers. would have gone into battle just as cheerfully and sturdily as before. The more I saw of the Army of the Potomac, the more I wondered at its invincible spirit, which no disasters seemed able to destroy. In January, among the lookers-on in Virginia, was the Hon. Henry J. Raymond, of The Times. He had a brother in the service, and one day he received this telegram: "Your brother's corpse is at Belle Plain." Hastening to the army as fast as steam could carry him, to perform the last sad offices of affection, he found his relative not only living, but in vigorous health. Through the eccentricities of the telegraph, the word corps had been changed into corpse. On the 22d of January, Burnside attempted another advance, designing to cross the Rappahannock in three columns. The weather for a long time had been fine, but, a few hours after the army started, the heavens opened, and converted the Virginia roads into almost fathomless mire. Advance seemed out of the question, and in two days the troops came back to camp. The Rebels understood the cause, and prepared an enormous sign, which they erected on their side of the river, in full 308 THE BATTERIES AT FREDERICKSBURG. 1863.1 view of our pickets, bearing the inscription, "STUCK IN THE MUD!" ARMY OF POTOMAC, NEAR FALMOUTH, VA., Still on the north bank of the Rappahannock! Upon the high bluffs, along a line of three miles, twenty-four of our guns point threateningly toward the enemy. In the ravines behind them a hundred more wait, ready to be wheeled up and placed in position. Upon the hills south of the river, distant from them a thousand to five thousand yards, Rebel guns confront them. Some peer blackly through hastily-built earthworks; some are just visible over the crests of sharp ridges; some almost hidden by great piles of brush. Already we count eighteen; the cannonading will unmask many more. "Ah, what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, Will mingle with their awful symphonies!" In front of our right batteries, but far below and hidden from them, the antique, narrow, half-ruined village of Falmouth hugs the river. In front of the Rebel batteries, in full view of both sides, the broad, well-to-do town of Fredericksburg, with its great factories, tall spires, and brick buildings, is a tempting target for our guns. The river which flows between (though Fredericksburg is half a mile below Falmouth), is now so narrow, that a lad can throw a stone across. Behind our batteries and their protecting hills rests the infantry of the Grand Division. General Couch's corps occupies a crescent-shaped valley-a symmetric natural amphitheater. It is all aglow nightly with a 1863.] A DISAPPOINTED VIRGINIAN. 309 thousand camp-fires; and, from the proscenium-hill of General Howard's head-quarters, forms a picture mocking all earthly canvas. Behind the Rebel batteries, in the dense forest, their infantry occupies a line five miles long. By night we just detect the glimmer of their fires; by day we see the tall, slender columns of smoke curling up from their camps. All the citizens ask to have guards placed over their houses; but very few obtain them. "I will give no man a guard," replied General Howard to one of these applicants, "until he is willing to lose as much as I have lost, in defending the Government." The Virginian cast one long, lingering look at the General's loose, empty coat-sleeve (he lost his right arm while leading his brigade at Fair Oaks), and went away, the picture of despair. ARMY OF POTOMAO, Sunday, Dec. 21. The general tone of the army is good; far better than could be expected. There is regret for our failure, sympathy for our wounded, mourning for our honored dead; but I find little discouragement and no demoralization. This is largely owing to the splendid conduct of all our troops. The men are hopeful because there are few of the usual jealousies and heart-burnings. No one is able to say, "If this division had not broken," or "if that regiment had done its duty, we might have won." The concurrence of testimony is universal, that our men in every division did better than they ever did before, and made good their claim to being the best troops in the world. We have had victories without merit, but this was a defeat without dishonor. In many respects-in all respects but the failure of 310 HONOR TO THE BRAVE AND BOLD. [1863. its vital object-the battle of Fredericksburg was the finest thing of the war. Laying the bridge, pushing the army across, after the defeat withdrawing it successfully-all were splendidly done, and redound alike to the skill of the general and the heroism of the troops. And those men and officers of the Seventh Michigan, the Nineteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts, and the Eighty-ninth New York, who eagerly crossed the river in open boats, in the teeth of that pitiless rain of bullets, and dislodged the sharpshooters who were holding our whole army at bay-what shall we say of them? Let the name of every man of them be secured now, and preserved in a roll of honor; let Congress see to it that, by medal or ribbon to each, the Republic gives token of gratitude to all who do such royal deeds in its defense. To the living, at least, we can be just. The fallen, who were left by hundreds in line of battle, "dead on the field of honor," we cannot reward; but He who permits no sparrow to fall to the ground unheeded, will see to it that no drop of their precious blood has been shed in vain. 1858.] REMINISCENCES OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 311 CHAPTER XXVI. He hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against MACBETHI. THE assassination of President Lincoln, while these chapters are in press, attaches a sad interest to every thing connected with his memory. During the great canvass for the United States Senate, between Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Douglass, the right of Congress to exclude Slavery from the Territories was the chief point in dispute. Kansas was the only region to which it had any practical application; and we, who were residing there, read the debates with peculiar interest. No such war of intellects, on the rostrum, was ever witnessed in America. Entirely without general culture, more ignorant of books than any other public man of his day, Douglass was christened "the Little Giant" by the unerring popular instinct. He who, without the learning of the schools, and without preparation, could cope with Webster, Seward, and Sumner, surely deserved that appellation. He despised study. Rising after one of Mr. Sumner's most scholarly and elaborate speeches, he said : "Mr. President, this is very elegant and able, but we all know perfectly well that the Massachusetts Senator has been rehearsing it every night for a month, before a looking-glass, with a negro holding a candle!" Douglass was, beyond all cotemporaries, a man of the |