VIII.

PELHAM "THE GALLANT."

I.

On the morning of the 17th of March, 1863, Averill's Federal Cavalry, three thousand in the saddle, crossed the Rappahannock at Kelly's Ford, and attacked about eight hundred of General Fitz Lee's command, who faced, without shrinking, these great odds, and fought them stubbornly at every point throughout the entire day.

When the sun set on that tranquil evening-sinking slowly down behind the quiet forest, unstirred by the least breath of wind-the long and desperate struggle was decided. The enemy was retiring, "badly hurt," and General Stuart added in his dispatch: "We are after him. His dead men and horses strew the road."

No harder battle was fought during the entire war. The Southern forces won the day by hard and desperate fighting, in charge after charge; but lost in the struggle some of the most valiant hearts that ever beat. Puller, Harris, and Pelham were among the number-the "gallant Pelham" of the battle of Fredericksburg. He was in the performance of his duty as Chief of Artillery, and was riding towards his General, when a regiment of cavalry swept by him in a charge. He was waving his hat aloft, and cheering them on, when a fragment of shell struck him on the head, mortally wounding him. He lingered until after midnight on the morning of the 18th, when General Stuart telegraphed to Mr. Curry, of Alabama:

"The noble, the chivalric, the gallant Pelham is no more.

He was killed in action yesterday. His remains will be sent to you to-day. How much he was beloved, appreciated, and admired, let the tears of agony we have shed, and the gloom of mourning throughout my command, bear witness. His loss is irreparable."

The body of the young officer was sent to Richmond, laid in state in the Capitol of Virginia, and we are told that "some tender hand deposited an evergreen wreath, intertwined with white flowers, upon the case that contained all that was mortal of the fallen hero." His family received the soldier's remains; they were taken to his Southern home; Virginia, the field of his fame, had surrendered him to Alabama, the land of his birth.

"The Major-General commanding," wrote Stuart, in a general order, "approaches with reluctance the painful duty of announc ing to the Division its irreparable loss in the death of Major JOHN PELHAM, commanding the Horse Artillery.

"He fell mortally wounded in the battle of Kellysville, March 17th, with the battle-cry on his lips, and the light of victory beaming from his eye.

"To you, his comrades, it is needless to dwell upon what you have so often witnessed-his prowess in action, already proverbial. You well know how, though young in years, a mere stripling in appearance, remarkable for his genuine modesty of deportment, he yet disclosed on the battle-field the conduct of a veteran, and displayed in his handsome person the most imperturbable coolness in danger.

"His eye had glanced over every battle-field of this army, from the first Manassas to the moment of his death, and he was, with a single exception, a brilliant actor in all.

"The memory of 'THE GALLANT PELHAM,' his many virtues, his noble nature and purity of character, is enshrined as a sacred legacy in the hearts of all who knew him.

"His record has been bright and spotless; his career brilliant and successful.

"He fell the noblest of sacrifices-on the altar of his country, to whose glorious service he had dedicated his life from the beginning of the war."

Thus passed away a noble, lofty soul; thus ended a career, brief, it is true, but among the most arduous, glorious, and splendid of the war. Young, but immortal-a boy in years, but heir to undying fame-he was called away from the scene of his triumphs and glory to a brighter world, where neither wars nor rumours of wars can come, and wounds and pain and suffering are unknown; where

"Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing

Can touch him further!"

II.

To him who writes these lines, the death of this noble youth has been inexpressibly saddening. It has cast a shadow on the very sunlight and the world seems, somehow, colder and more dreary since he went away. It was but yesterday almost that he was in his tent, and I looked into his frank, brave eyes, and heard his kind, honest voice.* There is the seat he occupied as we conversed-the bed where he so often slept with me, prolonging his gay talk deep into the night. There are the books he read-the papers which he wrote; at this table he once sat, and here where my own hand rests has rested the hand of the Dead! Every object thus recalls him, even as he lived and moved beside me but a few days ago. His very words seem still echoing in the air, and the dreary camp is full of his presence! Nor am I the only one whose heart has bled for the young sol dier. All who knew him loved him for his gay, sweet temper, as they admired him for his unshrinking courage. I have seen no face over which a sort of shadow did not pass at the announcement, "Pelham is dead!"

"Pelham is dead!" It is only another mode of saying "honour is dead! courage is dead! modesty, kindness, courtesy, the inborn spirit of the true and perfect gentleman, the nerve of the soldier, the gaiety of the good companion, the kindly heart, and the resolute soul-all dead, and never more to revisit us in his person!" These words are not dictated by a blind partiality or mere

*Written at "Camp No.- camp," in the spring of 1863.

personal regard for the brave youth who has fallen in front of the foe, in defence of the sacred liberties of the South. Of his unshrinking nerve and coolness in the hour of peril, the name of "the gallant Pelham," given him by General Lee at Fredericksburg, will bear witness. Of his noble, truthful nature, those who knew him best will speak.

He had made for himself a celebrated name, and he was only twenty-four when he died!

A son of the great State of Alabama, and descended from an old and honourable family there, he had the courage of his race and clime. He chose arms as his profession, and entered West Point, where he graduated just as the war commenced; lost no time in offering his services to the South, and received the appointment of First-Lieutenant in the Confederate States army. Proceeding to Harper's Ferry, when General Johnston was in command there, he was assigned to duty as drill-officer of artillery, and in the battle of Manassas commanded a battery, which he fought with that daring courage which afterwards rendered him so famous. He speedily attracted the attention of the higher Generals of the army, and General J. E. B. Stuart entrusted him with the organization of the battalion of Horse Artillery which he subsequently commanded in nearly every battle of the war upon Virginia soil. Here I knew him first.

From the moment when he took command of that famous corps, a new system of artillery fighting seemed to be inaugurated. The rapidity, the rush, the impetus of the cavalry, were grafted on its more deliberate brother. Not once, but repeatedly, has the Horse Artillery of Pelham given chase at full speed to a flying enemy; and, far in advance of all infantry support, unlimbered and hurled its thunders on the foe. It was ever at the point where the line was weakest; and however headlong the charge of the cavalry, the whirling guns were beside it, all ready for their part. "Trot, march!" had yielded to "gallop!" with the battalion; it was rushed into position, and put in action with a rush; and in and out among the guns where the bolts fell thickest was the brave young artillerist, cool and self-possessed, but, as one of his officers said the other

day, "as gay as a school-boy at a frolic." He loved his profession for its own sake; and often spoke to the officers above alluded to of the "jolly good fights" he would have in the present campaign; but I anticipate my subject.

Once associated with the command of Stuart, he secured the warm regard and unlimited confidence of that General, who employed his services upon every occasion. Thenceforth their fortunes seemed united, like their hearts; and the young man became known as one of the most desperate fighters of the whole army. He was rightly regarded by Jackson and others as pos sessed of a very extraordinary genius for artillery; and when any movement of unusual importance was designed, Pelham was assigned to the artillery to be employed.

His career was a brief one, but how glorious! How crowded with great events that are history now! Let us glance at it:

When the Southern forces fell back from Manassas in 1861, his batteries had their part in covering the movement, and guarding the fords of the Rappahannock. During the campaign of the Peninsula, his Blakely was as a sentinel on post near the enemy; and at the battle of Williamsburg his courage and skill transformed raw militia into veterans. In the seven days' battles around Richmond he won fadeless laurels. With one Napoleon, he engaged three heavy batteries, and fought them with a pertinacity and unfaltering nerve which made the calm face of Jackson glow; and the pressure of that heroic hand, warm and eloquent of unspoken admiration. Soon afterwards, at the "White House," he engaged a gunboat, and driving it away, after a brief but hot encounter, proved how fanciful were the terrors of these "monsters."

His greatest achievements were to come, however; and he hastened to record them on the enduring tablets of history. From the moment when his artillery advanced from the Rappahannock, to the time when it returned thither, to the day of Fredericksburg, the path of the young leader was deluged with the blood of battle. At Manassas he rushed his guns into the very columns of the enemy almost; fighting their sharpshooters with canister, amid a hurricane of balls. At Sharpsburg he had