CHAPTER VIII.

Army Life.-Pleasant Sensations of an Army Correspondent.-Who wouldn't be a General.-A Flag of Truce-Strange Scenes.-Major Fitzgibbon and the Dying Rebel Officer.-Sherinan Preparing to Cross the Chattahoochie.

At the present writing, both armies are facing each other, on the right and left bank of the Chattahooohie river, and so grudgingly inhospitable are the pickets on both sides, that neither will permit the other to indulge in the luxury of a wash. Two days ago a crowd of Johnnies were taking their usual ablution, unconscious of the presence of the Federals, when General Stanley directed a few shells to be fired over their heads. The river was soon cleared of bathers; up the bank they clambered, and an open field being in their rear, it was laughable and amusing to witness the "giant strides" of these nude athletes endeavoring to reach their works, while at every jump their speed was accelerated by the explosion of a shell over their heads. Being an excessively modest man, (as all old bachelors generally are) I could not look upon such exhibitions of model artistry, though many of my rude comrades not only seemed to enjoy it, but laughed and shouted at the frightened pedestrians. As they have not returned for their garments, it is supposed they went to Atlanta to procure new suits.

I wish I were a General! I know and feel that, even in my own conception of myself and who ever met a man that didn't imagine himself possessing "rare abilities?"-I'm wholly incapable of discharging the duties of such office, properly. Generals possess many advantages over soldiers. The evening before the battle of Kenesaw, I saw five Generals going to the rear, on their

way home. If I asked to go to the rear during the pending of a battle, my comrades would call me a coward; my Captain would put me on the breastworks, or tie me up to a tree. Can't you use your influence in my behalf, with "the man that is to be our next VicePresident?"

I went out on the picket line yesterday, and, thanks to my sensible companion, the Johnnies never fired a shot at either of us. The many pilgrimages of the bottle to his mouth, have so reddened his proboscis, as to have it mistaken for a hospital flag, and interpreting it into a wish to bury the dead, they allowed us to approach the water's edge. During our stay, about four hundred women, who were employed at "Rosswell Factory," came to our side of the river, refusing to weave for, or go further into the "Confederacy." They were not of the handsomest features or pattern, looking at a distance more like walking corpses, or painted cedar-posts, than the "flowers of the South" we were wont to read of. They were hoopless and bootless; nearly all used the "weed," a respectable quid being within the lips of many. Their appearance confirmed the celibical determination of my boyhood. They are gone back to Marietta, which has been abandoned by its former inhabitants.

The rebel army is terribly damafied. Being within talking and hearing distance of them frequently during the last month, they can beat "our army in Flanders," in horrible swearing and blaspheming. "Swearing by note" is considered the acme of hellish perfection with us, but the rebs can link the saints of the calendar into one group, at a mouthful, without any seeming effort. "I thank the Lord Jesus Christ," piously ejaculated one in my hearing, a few nights since, "that that G-d d-d good-for-nothing Polk was killed the other day."

On Sunday last, 7th inst., there was considerable of a skirmish in front of Morgan's Brigade, of Davis' Division, Fourteenth Corps. It lasted from three till six o'clock in the evening. The 14th Michigan, Colonel H. R. Mizner, constituted the skirmish line, five com

panies of the regiment being deployed on the line, under the direction of Major Fitzgibbon-the remaining five acting as support, commanded by the Colonel. The latter five companies were brought into action when the final desperate struggle ensued, and the 16th Illinois. acted as support. The 14th, all agree, acted heroically, capturing fifty prisoners, and driving the enemy from two lines of rifle pits into their main works. The loss of the 14th was eight killed, thirty-three wounded, among the latter, one, an officer, (Lieutenant Joseph Kirk,) mortally. Among the rebel killed and wounded, who fell into our hands, were three officers, a captain and two lieutenants. The wounded Confederate officer, whose name was William R. Ross, died the next morning. When he fell, he supplicatingly begged that his fast ebbing life be spared. He was evidently laboring under the hallucination that the "terrible Yankee vandals" butchered all who fell into their hands. Dispelling this illusion from his mind, Major Fitzgibbon not only had him taken to the rear on a stretcher, but promised to send all his valuables and personal effects to his (the Lieutenant's) friends, if possible. Not having time to remain with him himself, the Major directed Adjutant C. F. Foote, of the 14th, to remain sufficiently long with the sufferer to see him properly cared for, get the names of his parents, take care of his valuables, &c.

"Major," said the dying Lieutenant, "I bestow you all my valuables and money, but O, save and send this (pulling an ambrotype likeness from his breast-pocket) to her whom I love. To her I am engaged to be married, and though I am ready to meet my God, I cannot willingly drag myself to an untimely grave from her." The likeness, which was a highly finished and elaborately cased one, was that of Miss Emma Jane Kennon, of Oxford, Georgia. She is, if her shadow daguerreotypes her features correctly, one of the most beautiful creatures I ever beheld, well worthy of him, had he lived, for he was as handsome and manly-looking a youth of twenty summers as either army can or could ever boast of. His home was Macon-had been through the Vir

ginia campaign from the first "Bull Run," and only joined Hood two days before. Besides this likeness, he gave Adjutant Foote $52 50 in money and some private papers. The Major reported the dying wish of his captive to the proper authorities, and while refusing to consent to a "parley" or truce on the line, told him he might take advantage of a lull on the picket line some day to send them. For the two days the 14th remained on the line, they failed to effect a parley to bury one of their men, and a rebel officer who lay side by side between the works, but on the 12th inst., while the 10th Illinois were on picket, the human carcasses became so unbearably offensive as to cause the "Johnnies," near whose works they were, to ask permission to bury them. The request, of course, was granted by our

men.

Taking advantage of this temporary cessation of hostilities on the line, Major Fitzgibbon, Captain Hig gins, Lieutenant Davis, and Adjutant Foote (of the 14th Michigan) with other officers of the 10th Illinois and 17th Ohio, repaired to the picket line and asked to see a like number of officers on the other side, telling their business.

Anxious to watch and see if any change of countenance or muscles of the face would develop themselves so as to betray the feelings of the heart, I walked beside our Major, who was dressed in blue pants, red silk shirt, and "Burnside" hat. All the other Federal officers, except Captain Higgins, wore their insignia of rank, though their coats and pants showed signs of long and rough usage. The place of meeting was in a ravine mid-way between both lines. It was dotted with towering oaks, through and over which four batteries (two of each army,) kept up a rapid and continuous duel during and after the friendly meeting. The Confederate officers, (six in number,-two Majors, as many Captains and four Lieutenants,) marched abreast and in line, as if on dress parade. They were gorgeously clad in finest grey and golden tinsel. When about six paces from us, where, at the command of Major Shaaff,

they halted and raised their hats from their heads, by way of salutation. Our officers returned the salute, when both Majors Fitzgibbon and Shaaff advanced and shook hands.

"My name is Shaaff, sir, and am Major in the Confederate States Army."

"My name is Fitzgibbon, sir, and am Major in the United States Volunteers, was the reply. Major Fitzgibbon offered some drink, after all the officers had been introduced to each other, but Shaaff, who is a West Point graduate and deserter, would not permit his willing officers to indulge.

"I have come, sir," said our Major, "to deliver up to you the personal effects of Lieutenant Ross, of your army, who fell into my hands mortally wounded, on the evening of the 7th, that through you they may be safely sent to Miss Kennon, of Oxford, Georgia, to whom, also, this letter from me, is directed."

"We thank you sincerely for this great kindness," said Shaaff,; "I will see that they are sent to her. İs your regiment on the line now, sir?"

"No, it is in the third line in reserve,"—which was not true.

"Is General Sherman with your army now? I saw an order to-day purporting to be signed by Major General Thomas, Commanding?"

"I saw General Sherman on the picket line about ten minutes ago," replied Lieutenant Davis.

"Have you any regulars in your army?" asked Shaaff.

"There is a whole Division of them in your front," was the answer.

"Have you many new troops here?" he again interrogated.

"No sir; nearly our entire army is composed of veterans.'

"Is General Blair with you now; a report is in our camp that he was captured two days ago?" asked a rebel Captain.