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A  MEMORIAL
PAUL JOSEPH  REVERE
EDWARD  H. R.  REVERE
  PRIVA TEL,y\"PR{NTED
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     BOSTON


WM. PARSONS LUNT


       1874 

V.
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 18*74.
       Boston :

Printed by Rand, Avbry, & Co. 
MEMOIR.
  It  is not easy to write the life of a young
man.   If in any way remarkable, whatever may
be said seems, from one point of view, to  indi-
cate what he  might have been, had  a longer
career on earth been permitted,  rather  than
what  he  was.   But  regarding  the matter  in
another and a more religious  light, considering
that every life  is admirably finished, and every
work  well done, that has carried out the pur-
poses of Heaven, we see  how  the discipline
and development of youth discovers subjects  of
importance for our thoughts; and we turn back
to remember more particularly what  has  hap-
pened in this brief time.
  Paul Joseph Revere, the fourth son  of Mary 
4
and Joseph Warren Revere, was born in Boston
the ioth  of September, 1832.   He was named
Paul for his  Grandfather Revere, and Joseph
for his  father, and was  christened on the day
that his grandfather would have  been one hun-
dred years old.
   This  narrative of  his  life  must  be  slight
and  imperfect,  only touching upon  the  most
important incidents  and  points of  character,
with what help may be derived from  the events
of the day, and from his mother's journal, and his
own letters  and  those of his friends.   His
mother says,  " Paul has left with his friends so
high an  idea of his  character  as to make it
unsatisfactory to attempt to delineate it; know-
ing, as I do,  that one must fail in  expressing
half his worth or his importance to  his family,
or his value  to  the world.  But words are the
only means  of  conveying to his children an
idea of the power he possessed, and of setting
before them the  facts of his life."
   It is interesting to trace the spirit of a remote
ancestry  in the varying fortunes of descendants. 
5
A little  observation often leads one  to refer
some striking quality that has made a man con-
spicuous, to the influence of noted circumstances
upon a  distant progenitor.  This  may be true
in the case of the  subject of this sketch.  He
was removed by only three generations from a
family of Huguenots named Rivoire, who  on
the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis
XIV., in 1685, fled from their home at St. Foy
to the island of Guernsey in the British Chan-
nel,  off  the coast of Normandy,  where they
might enjoy the  exercise of their religion safe
from the alarms of persecution and war.  Here,
we can well imagine, in their steadfast resistance
to oppression, and in the energy which at last
secured  an asylum for their liberty of opinion,
may be found a clew to those  prominent traits
which have been recognized on  this side  of the
Atlantic, and in the possession of which  he of
whom we now write had a decided share.
   A boy of thirteen years,  called  Apollos Ri-
voire, was sent to America in 1715, by an uncle
prosperous in mercantile affairs, who recom- 
6
mended to his correspondent that he should be
put to the goldsmith's trade.  It would appear
that the family were in a good position at home
in France, as letters from this merchant, and from
another member of the family, a lawyer, prove
them to have been educated people.  At twenty-
one he returned to Guernsey to visit his rela-
tives, but decided  to make America his home.
He followed  the   goldsmith's  business,  and
altered his name to Paul Revere; and in course
of time he married Deborah Hitchborn of  Bos-
ton, by whom he had several children, one of
whom  was Col. Paul Revere of Revolutionary
memory.
  Col.  Revere was born  in  1735, and  was
brought up  to  his  father's  business.  In 1757
he  married Sarah Orne, who died young, leav-
ing six children.   After  a few months, his
household  being in sore  need  of  a mother's
care,  he married again a  very excellent and
charming woman, Rachael Walker, by whom he
had eight children,  four of whom survived their
parents.   Col. Revere was in the Royal  army 
7
in 1756, serving under  Col. Gridley at Crown
Point as second lieutenant.   From that  time,
when he was but twenty-one, he was remark-
able for his judgment, energy,  and  influence.
He  was associated with the leading men  of
the day in  all  the  important matters of that
stirring time.  With a  large  family  to   sup-
port, he yet found leisure and  abundant  spirit
for all  public interests.  With well-considered,
settled opinions, his will was  strong;  while his
general gifts rendered  him competent  to  great
emergencies, and equal to great events.   The
result was, that, in a crisis  like that of rousing
the people  to conflict on  the  eve of the first
struggle for our Independence, he was the wise
counsellor at home, and the daring  actor in the
field.   Col.  Revere was quick in perceiving the
striking features  of  the hour, with a  ready ge-
nius to portray them, which made him  the off-
hand artist of  many  caricatures intended  to
bring ridicule upon the  enemy, and the author
of various  sketches of  interesting scenes  of
which he was an eye-witness.  He designed the 
8
bills of the Continental  money, and engraved
them with his own hand.   His practical skill
was also turned to good account in the  casting
of guns for the  use  of  our army during the
Revolution.  He remained in the service of the
country throughout the war,  leaving his  wife to
direct  and provide  for his  large  family.   He
lived to the advanced age of eighty-four  years.
  The oldest son of Col. Revere's second wife
was  Joseph Warren  Revere, named  for  Dr.
Joseph Warren, afterwards the Major-Gen. War-
ren, killed at Bunker Hill, the intimate friend of
Col.  Revere, " one of the shining lights of these
colonies, and the first  great  martyr  to  the na-
tional cause."
  Mr.  Revere was born soon  after the first
general rising to arms,  while  his  father  was
away in  the  army,  and lived  until October,
1868, being nearly ninety-two years old.
  As he grew into manhood,  and was called
upon to assume  its  responsibilities, he entered
the business which his father had established,
and by degrees took the lead in, and manage- 
9
ment  of, its affairs.   To him it was  given, by
his enterprise and care, to relieve his parents  of
all worldly anxiety in their declining years; and
he remained a  blessing in their household  as
long as they lived.
  Mr. Revere married in 1821, gathered about
him new and various interests and connections,
was  the head  and blessing of another house-
hold, and educated a large family.   This much,
at least, is of  moment with regard to Paul's
name and descent in the line of the Reveres.
  On his mother's side he  was also connected,
as on his  father's, with highly intelligent and
influential people.
  His  maternal grandfather,  Edward Hutchin-
son  Robbins, was for many years in  political
life, and held the office of Judge of Probate for
Norfolk County through a  long term  of years,
and was always the honored  friend and coun-
sellor  of the country round.  He lived to the
age of seventy-two,  leaving a memory rich in
private virtues, in happy social qualities, and in
wide  labors for the  public good.   His father 
10
was  Rev. Nathanael Robbins,  the minister of
Milton parish for fifty years.   His mother was
Elizabeth Hutchinson,  a near  relative  of  the
governor of Massachusetts of that name.  His
wife  was Miss  Elizabeth Murray, whose father
came from Scotland, and settled in North Caro-
lina before the Revolution.  She was of a family
of Murrays that still  are  to  be found in Scot-
land, living  on  the  old  place called Phillip-
haugh.   Judge Robbins lived at Brush Hill, in
Milton, where the homestead is still owned and
occupied by his son, Hon James M. Robbins.
  With  this  brief mention  of his ancestry, we
will now  turn to the immediate subject of this
memoir.
  Of his boyhood  Paul's mother writes, " He
was a very fine child.  Early in  life he took an
idea  so clearly  that I was  often surprised.   I
remember his waking  one morning  when  he
was  about five  years  old, in my room, where
the rising sun shone in, and  saying, * I will  get
up and ride over to see my Aunt Maria on  the
sun.'  It seemed to me to show quite a remark- 
II
able conception  of what he had  been told, —
that his  aunt, Mrs.  Balestier,  lived at Singa-
pore,  the other  side  of the world.  Again, at
seven years old, he  staid  out  one day longer
than I expected.  I  asked him where he had
been.  ' In the graveyard,' he said, ' looking at
a funeral.' — 'Did it not make you feel badly to
see it ?' I asked. l No,' he replied.  ' I  knew
the man had gone to heaven.  It was only his
body there.'"   " His will was very strong, and
made him difficult at times to manage."  But
all that is implied by this is, that he was high-
spirited, unwilling to be forced, but easily per-
suaded and led by his affections.
   There  was always  something  about  Paul
from early years  that led to a fond degree of
consideration  in the family.  What Paul said
or did, or failed to do, may have been of more
than usual note  then, as it  always was later, not
only  at  home, but  among his  playfellows and
friends.   He showed as a child  no precocity in
the way of books;  neither was  there any spe-
cial backwardness on his part in the little stud- 
12
ies  common to his  age.  He liked poetry,—
both to learn it, and to have it read to him.
His mother says, that, when he was going away
to school for the  first  time, he  said to her, " I
shall want  Mrs.  Hemans, and I cannot carry
that great  volume."   She gave  him a  small
one instead;  and it may be  imagined how, as
all  boys of  that  day did, he  pored over the
story of "Casabianca," and "Bernardo del Car-
pio," and the like, or gave himself up  to the
music of the gentler verse.  His memory must
have been  good;  for all through his  life he
would at odd moments throw out snatches of
songs and hymns that were the delight of this
careless time.
  His  summers  were spent  in the country at
Canton, Mass., where his father had a home in
the neighborhood of the copper-works.  The
Neponset River runs through the grounds, bor-
dered by woods and rocks and pleasant  fields.
There was the beginning of Paul's love  of na-
ture and country life.  A boy a little older than
himself was employed to wander around with 
13
him; and so  it was  those charming hours of
idle youth went by.
   When he was eight years old, it seemed im-
portant that this holiday life in summer should
be somewhat  changed, and that he  should be
brought under a measure  of school discipline
and into the methods of regular instruction.
It was decided, therefore, to send  him to  Mil-
ton, the next town to  Canton, to live with a
Mrs. Gile, the widow of a former minister of the
place, and a friend of the family, where he would
still be within easy access of home, and able to
attend the  academy daily.   His school-days in
Milton, continuing through two summers, may
have afforded to those who had the care of the
academy few  indications of his future dignity
and force, and left them little to  say, but that
he was bright and well enough for his years.
   It is  evident, however, that  his mother  was
alive to the promise which was afterwards so
well fulfilled.  She writes of his  going  to Mil-
ton, " It was a great struggle on my part  to let
him go, lest  some wrong  impression should
            2 
14
come to him.   He was a great favorite among
his companions in the town, and led in all their
doings.
   " I went to Milton to tell him of the* death
of a boy he had loved, and said, ' I was afraid
you would feel very much the death of Franky,'
who was killed  by a gun.  ' I saw it  in  the
paper,' was his  answer, ' but  I  would not be-
lieve  it was he.'  He carried  through life  this
habit of requiring  evidence for a  fact.  He
could not believe current  stories without abun-
dant proof.  I  copy," she adds, " an  extract
from my diary when I parted with him :  ' I  feel
him to be a great treasure, and fear something
may influence him unfavorably.   I am sure un-
der good impressions he will make a superior
man.'"
   Two years passed with little  to mark them
here.  In the winter of 1842 Paul attended Mr.
Brooks's school in Boston.   During the next
four years  he was preparing  for college, under
various  instruction in the city, — not showing
any  special gift,  and  seldom standing in near 
15
relations to his teachers.  At  fourteen he went
to Dorchester into Dr. Davis's family, — a man
of high attainments, who, beyond caring for his
studies, directed his reading,  and treated  him
as a companion, making his work pleasant to
him.   In 1848, when  he was  sixteen, he  en-
tered Harvard College.
   Up  to this time, there had been  no want with
him  of friends among those of his own age.
Indeed,  he held  close companionship with a
large circle of lively boys, who looked to  him
as their leader, accustomed  to refer their little
matters of interest to his choice and decision,
and who felt that no play could go on and  no
plan be  carried out as well without him as if
he were at hand to cheer and help.  The house
was not unfrequently overrun from morning  till
night with some of these  intimates, who loved
Paul dearly,  and felt his influence  for good.
His personal strength and activity  enabled him
to be among the foremost, without  effort, in the
manifold  enterprises  which stirring  boys   at-
tempt;  and his judgment  in difficulties, and 
i6
skill in games, were acknowledged and admired
by his fellows.  Boys are  quick  to  discern the
qualities fit for a  leader, and  yield  to  their
power gladly; and their opinion is  usually sus-
tained, as in this case, by a similar recognition
and approval in a larger range of experience as
the years go on.  In a notice that  appeared in
a daily paper after Paul's death, written by one
of these early and  constant friends, this sense
of  his  influence  is thus  strongly  expressed:
" When a boy, in  that  truest  of republics, the
playground, his companions instinctively recog-
nized in  him  a   leader.  There  that  keen
sense of justice, which seemed to be part  and
parcel of him, was so conspicuous that he was
the well-known umpire in the boyish disputes
of  his companions; and we fondly recall the
often used expression, ' I'll leave it  to  Paul,' —
an  arbitration  which was, we  believe, always
assented to  by the other party of the  dispute ;
and we may add that we do not  remember  one
case where the equity of his decision was not
acknowledged and  supported  by the  majority
of his playmates." 
17
   From school to college is a short step.   But
the change in life  is great.   One carries with
him there a character in the process of being
formed, and finds an entirely new field for de-
velopment and growth.   There is larger  free-
dom,   wider  opportunities,  higher  privileges,
every thing at hand for education, for general
experience of a literary kind, and for social en-
tertainment.   A boy just sliding into youth falls
easily  into the duties  for which he has a gift,
and into the  companionship  for which he  has
a  taste; and he uses his talents and unfolds
his nature under the  most  favorable circum-
stances.   Temptations and trials there are  to
meet him, but not at all more than those which
young  men have to  encounter in other lines of
a roving or business life.  His studies are re-
fining,  so far as he pursues them ; and his em-
ployments are adapted to his,position and his
probable  place  in  the  world.   If he desires
class  distinction  and liberal  attainment, he
gives himself  up steadily to books;  and if he
desires an easy course, and looks forward  to no
          2* 
18
profession but that of a cultivated gentleman,
the way is open for him to choose his friends,
who may be  his friends for life, and to  go on
as far as it  pleases him in departments  of
science or literature, — an interest  in  which
will  always insure him a certain  esteem  and
consideration in the world.
   As Paul had been at school, so he continued
at  Cambridge.  Never  having  been  used  to
much application,  he did not turn over  an  en-
tirely new leaf when he went to college.  He did
his work as well as many, but gave himself to
the general advantages of the time rather than
to  its particular instruction and  stricter disci-
pline.   His mother's statement is, that "his life
at Cambridge was more marked for  strength of
character, and the power of  influence, than for
the  love of study.   He had good taste, and en-
joyed  books."   Jhat is, he  was  still  a  leader
among  his  associates, — respected  and  ad-
mired ; and a reader rather than a student,  and
very likely even at  that early age more of  a
thinker than a  reader,— not  getting  through 
19
many books, but pondering a few.  And when
books tired him, he had his own way of arriving
at a knowledge of men and things by habits of
observation, which he had always practised, and
which were of the greatest service to him after-
wards, when he came into more serious contact
with the world.
   One who heard him recite for a few weeks, in
making up a part of  his course in rhetoric, says
of him, " Paul used  to come  to my  room at
certain hours, with his book under his  arm, and
entering  with  a  most easy,  gentlemanly air,
would  seem to  throw the responsibility of the
matter entirely on me.  He was there,  not to
recite,  but to  keep  an appointment.  For the
mere  text-book  he appeared to care nothing,
and to deem it of small  account.  I generally
thought he  had not looked at  his  task, and
therefore tried to give him an idea of the sub
ject, page  after page,  that  he  might not  be
wholly deficient; and in this way I found, that,
while of ' Campbell's Rhetoric'  he was  quite
ignorant, he knew enough  of the subject, and 
20
had opinions of his own sufficient, to make him
equal to the full  expression of his views  upon
any subject that he was called to write or speak
of."
  A portion of Paul's  class, some of whom
were his personal friends, were far more inclined
to entertain  themselves in  their college-life than
be  devoted  to  study; and a spirit of lawless-
ness had pervaded the class before the final
outbreak of fun and disorder, which ended in
Paul's suspension for six months of his sopho-
more year.   This was a time of trial, and yet it
was by no means without a good influence  upon
him.  He never felt the punishment was unjust;
but, in the months that followed, he endeavored
to apply himself  more earnestly to study than
ever before.  He  spent this time  in Rev. Dr.
Lunt's family of Quincy, where he secured the
friendly regard  of  a most  intelligent, cultivated
man.
  The last two  years of his course at Cambridge
passed without any thing especially to  mark
them.  New  friendships were  formed,  some of 
21
them among  the  pleasantest of his life.  He
gained  a knowledge, that was valuable, of men
and things.    If  he  took no  high  rank  for
scholarship, he was in no  way wanting  in the
practical  information fitted to his  age, that
would be important to a man of general affairs.
He graduated with the respect and affection  of
his class, which was abundantly manifest  in the
sorrow  expressed at the time of his death.

   The  following resolutions were passed at a
meeting of his class, held July 15, 1863 : —

  Resolved, That called upon for the fourth time,
by the death of Paul Joseph Revere, to  record
an offering of the Class of 1852 of one of her brav-
est and  best to the cause of our country, we desire
to express our profound sorrow, and our sense  of
the loss  we have sustained.
  While we have followed  with  a  proud interest
the career of our classmate, on the Potomac, in the
prisons  of Richmond, through the blood-stained
fields of the Peninsula, at the hard-fought fight  of
Antietam, and  finally at the head of his regiment
in repelling the recent invasion of the North, we 
22
have recognized in his calm courage, his persistent
fortitude, and his heroic self-sacrifice at the call of
patriotism, honor, and duty, the qualities fittest for
the time and the cause.
  In  recurring to the memories of our  pleasant
college-days, we  shall cherish the recollection of
Revere as of one, who for  simple manliness, for
contempt of all that was false or mean, for cheer-
fulness and equability of temper, for desire to pro-
mote peace and good-will, and for a strict  sense of
justice and the right, stood among the foremost.
  Aware  of Revere's  domestic  virtues, of  the
pleasures  of the  home he  left when the Nation
summoned him to her service, and of the  affection
which as  a son, brother, husband, and father, he
bestowed  and received, we desire to communicate
to his bereaved family our deepest sympathy with
their affliction.
  Resolved,  That these  resolutions  stand upon
our records as a testimony of our grief at the loss
which has been  suffered by  us, by our classmate's
family and many friends, and by the Country in her
hour of need, as well as of our pride that  a life so
noble and so complete has  been crowned  by an
end so glorious. 
23
                                July 28, 1863.
   My dear Mrs. Revere, — I  must ask  your
indulgence for an accidental delay in the transmis-
sion of the enclosed resolutions passed by our class
on Commencement Day.
  While we  should shrink from even  appearing to
intrude  upon your sorrow at a time  like  this, we
cannot help wishing to  say to you how much we
loved and esteemed Paul while he lived, and how
dearly we shall cherish his memory.
  Of our  sympathy you need no assurance,  and
words would seem very feeble.  We can only hope
that you will be sustained, if  not consoled, in your
grief, by your recollections of a life that embraced so
much for which  it was well to live, and your pride
in a death for a cause best worth the dying.
  On behalf of the class and of myself, I am
      Ever faithfully and respectfully yours,
                     S. Lothrop  Thorndike.

  A friend,  writing of Paul at this  time, recalls
" his  tall, slender figure, yet well developed,
with  signs  of   great strength and endurance,
and the air of one who  had grown fast, to whom
it was a little of a weariness, sometimes, to carry 
24
 about his unaccustomed size.   Not that he was
 awkward or heavy in  the  least; but there was
 an easy, lazy way with him then, when there was
 nothing to call for alertness or vigor, very char-
 acteristic.   This, together with an imperturbable
 manner when he pleased, and a silence not at
 all shy or dull, but owing to a natural  prudent
 reserve, and a proper indifference  to ordinary
 talk, and a quiet humor that enjoyed immensely
 the fun and nonsense in his way, rendered him
 noticeable and interesting  at a period of youth
 when most gay fellows are  so uneasy and full of
 words.  I remember seeing him in the streets
 of  Cambridge, an undergraduate,  not in any
 marked degree handsome, except as to his form,
 yet drawing  attention by his  gentlemanly  air,
 which was that of one  who understood him-
 self and others, and who would  find his place,
 or make it, in the world.   And  so it was  after-
 wards.  He was  never out of place, but  filled
 his  position  gracefully  and well, wherever he
 might be, — whether loitering in  the country, or
occupied with city interests.  Amid the trials of 
25
the camp noted for his discipline, and in the
perils of the fight among  the foremost of the
brave, it was the same unassuming, high-toned,
well-appointed gentleman  you saw  and heard
of, and  could not help admiring  from first to
last."
  If there were some familiar records of college
clubs,  societies,  and friendships, to refer  to,
there might  be  a better idea formed of Paul's
course  at Cambridge,  as has been intimated,
than can be given here.  But such reminiscen-
ces are  seldom forthcoming.  It is little consid-
ered, at the  time, that the  social  meetings and
the daily intercourse of this happy period may
be of any  interest beyond  the moment.  Yet
early life often gives the keynote  of all that is
to come.
  As a member of the Hasty Pudding and
Porcellian Clubs, we  may believe that Paul con-
tributed his  share of spirit and  merriment to
those pleasant occasions.  Full of apt conver-
sation, humor, and anecdote appropriate to his
age,  he appeared at such  times,  perhaps, his
best.
             3 
26
  In  the summer before  he left college,  he
started with a friend  for Moosehead  Lake  and
the wild  region beyond.  Left by his compan-
ion near  the lake, he followed his original plan ;
taking an Indian guide and a canoe,  and pene-
trating the forests  as far as  the source of the
Saco, — a point which it was  said a white man
had never reached before.  His stories of this
new experience, his descriptions of the scenery,
and the occasional glimpses he  gave, unawares,
into his own nature, rich with happy  tastes and
resources, were very  entertaining.
  In the same  line  of outdoor  enterprise  and
recreation, he made two or three trips with  one
or more friends to the Adirondack  Mountains,
spending weeks  at a time, each year, camping
out,  hunting,  living upon  game, learning  new
lessons of nature, developing his powers, and
laying up  a store  of fresh  and useful memo-
ries.   He was a proficient  in the  arts pertain-
ing to this sort of life, and went prepared with
nice arrangements and  little  comforts, — the
outfit  needful for emergencies,—.and usually 
27
brought home  a saddle  of  venison  that he
could tell  the history of,  or, as  a trophy,  the
head  of a deer  with  branching horns, which
was  preserved and  kept.  One  of these he
hung over the mantlepiece of  his little room at
home,  where he  spent  so many hours of his
opening   manhood.   His hunting-knife  was
given to one  who delighted in these pastimes
with him,  his hunting-cup to another.  And so,
with these gentle reminiscences, we come to the
end of his favored youth.  It was a bright page
to look back  upon; and he was  never tired of
turning to its enjoyments,  to  catch anew some-
thing of its light-heartedness as he went  for-
ward into  the path of a more responsible  life,
— a life,  indeed, in  which,  as  has been well
said, he filled a very large place in the compara-
tively small  sphere of home,  and of those who
knew and loved him.-

   In the  summer of 1854, soon after he  was
twenty-one, he went on a trip  to Lake  Superior.
His father wished him to inform  himself with 
28
respect to the copper region there ; and his love
of adventure,  combined with  a useful object,
made the expedition, for the most part, a delight-
ful one to him.  It was here, however, that he
met with an experience which threw a  shade  of
sadness over the whole memory of that time.
  He had spent a  month favorably for his un-
dertaking, and  had crossed  the lake  with two
gentlemen interested in the same affairs, to visit
the mines with them.  On their return, arriving
at the shore, they found there was a  high wind,
and the lake like a disturbed sea.  These three
gentlemen were expected to take an open boat,
with  two ordinary boatmen of the  country  to
manage it, for a sail of many hours.  Paul said,
"This is against my judgment. Let  us wait."
The  reply was, "You have no experience  in
this matter.  We must go ; and you will  do  as
you like."  He took off his boots, and all cloth-
ing but a close under-suit, putting his handker-
chief and his watch and compass in  the  bosom
of his shirt.  One  of the gentlemen (Kershaw)
lay down in the bottom of the boat, and  slept. 
29
On rounding a  point  a few miles from their
starting-place, the boat  capsized, and  all were
thrown out.  Paul saw the men sinking about
him, and begged Dr. Pratt to  hold on to the
boat, but he thought he  could swim.  Paul saw
him sink, and dived after him.   Upon  reaching
the surface, he found him dead, and the  other
man gone,  with one  of the  boatmen.  Only
one  was left,  clinging  to the bottom of the
boat.   Paul said, " Get on to it, and I can save
you."  The man answered, " It is no use : you
don't know the lake."   With a tone of authori-
ty, Paul then ordered him to do as he was told ;
and the man obeyed.   Securing a  hold of the
boat, Paul then  began  swimming, and  in that
way reached the  shore, being in the water
more than an hour.  Of course he could rest,
floating meanwhile.   The feeling that  the life
of a human being  was in his hands, under
Heaven, stimulated  him to new exertions ; for
he had  to  contend with  a strange indifference
with regard to  himself.  Often,  too,  he  was
obliged  to rouse this poor fellow, beginning  to
         3* 
30
doze in his  prayers.  The  man  knew the best
place to land, and  told him there were loggers
in the woods he could guide him  to.  At length
they reached the shore, entirely exhausted.  The
boatman sank insensible on the beach, and for
a moment it was all desolation for Paul.   Look-
ing at the boat, he saw his outside coat hanging
under a seat, where it had  caught.   Eagerly he
regained it, remembering the flask that was in
the pocket.  It was still there.  He poured some
brandy into the mouth of the  man, and  rolled
him in  the  sand until he revived.  The strain
upon both mind and body had been so great,
that he had  no power  at  first  to move.   At
length, however, a little rested, before sundown
they started through the woods for the loggers'
camp, where they finally arrived, but not until
his handkerchief had been used up in binding
his bleeding feet.  There they were kindly cared
for, as far as it was possible, and remained over
one day. Paul deeply felt the painful task before
him, of going to Eagle Head  to tell  the young
wife of Dr. Pratt of his fate. 
31
   A correspondent of " The New-York Times "
gives  the  following  account  of  this  occur-
rence : —

   " Mr.  Revere  of Boston, Mr. Kershaw,  a
clerk, and Dr. Pratt, a physician to the Minne-
sota mine, left Portage Lake for Eagle  River.
On  reaching  Lake  Superior, they  found  a
severe gale blowing, and a  heavy sea  tumbling
in from  the lake.   It was with much  difficulty
they  launched  the canoe   through  the surf.
But  once out,  and the wind  subsiding, they
ran  rapidly and safely some  six  miles;  but
when  abreast  a  bold,  rocky shore,  where
the  reef makes  out a  mile  and  a half,
the wind suddenly  freshened.  A high  sea
broke  over  the  reef,  instantly swamping  the
canoe, which at the  same  moment capsized,
throwing all out to some  distance.  Mr. Ker-
shaw and the younger boatman, unable to swim,
sank immediately.   The other three, regaining
the canoe, clung to its side.   Soon  Dr. Pratt, a
powerful  swimmer, thinking he could reach  the 
32
shore,  struck  off, but  suddenly  went  down
within half a mile of the canoe.  Mr. Revere
and Robiscault, the elder boatman, after  cling-
ing two hours to the canoe, regained the  shore.
To Mr. Revere's courage and presence of mind
is due both his own and Robiscault's  preserva-
tion ; and had Dr. Pratt followed his entreaties,
and remained  by the boat, he might  also have
been saved.
  " Robiscault, an 'old boatman and  an  aged
man, repeatedly gave up all hope, and was with
difficulty  persuaded to maintain his hold, and
says he owes  his life to the persuasions and
constant  assurances  of  Mr. Revere,  that  they
would reach the  land in  safety.  He relates,
that, holding  on  himself to one end  of the
canoe, Mr. Revere grasped the thwarts  at the
other, and, throwing himself on his back, swam
the frail bark with rapid and undeviating course
to  land, distant a mile and a  half, and  finally
dragged  him,  half unconscious,  on the beach.
The bodies of  the three unfortunate men  have
since been recovered." 
33
   Few young men, indeed, few men of any age,
 have met a greater trial of their faith and ener-
 gy, their inward spirit and outward power, than
 this.   It tested  thus  early his  ruling qualities.
 It showed to what he was equal.   It proved his
 clear perceptions, his ability, his will, his power
 to lead and help, and do  the duty to be done.
 The particulars of this affair were little known.
 He never  told them to  more than one or two.
 He said they were too terrible to speak of.   It
 was a page to be turned over, — not to "be for-
 gotten, but to  be kept to himself alone.  He
 came home with a change in his look and tone.
 His careless youth was left behind.  The  or-
 deal he had passed through sobered  and devel-
 oped him.  He had been too near death to be
 ever otherwise than keenly alive to the  solemn
 realities of his being, or to the  obligations laid
 upon him to accomplish the work for which he
 had been spared.
  A single incident connected with this  event
 is too striking to be lost.  A few weeks after-
wards, a brother of young  Revere  was cross- 
34
ing Boston Harbor in  one of the ferry-boats.
Seeing a group of people on board, apparently
much interested in some story a man among
them  was telling, he drew near to listen, and
heard this  tale  of Paul's  prowess  given with
spirit  by a stranger from  the West,  who  de-
clared that it was one of the most wonderful
instances  of  nobleness  and  endurance they
had  heard of in  that region, accustomed  as
they were to exposure and peril of  every kind.
   Some years later a nephew of Paul's, follow-
ing in the same track of travel and inquiry that
he did, visited the neighborhood of this disaster
on  Lake Superior.  Strangely enough, he  fell
in with the old boatman who was  saved, and
who had some  remembrance left of what  oc-
curred ; but his mind was so much beclouded
by age and intemperance, that there was little
to be  gained from him.
  The next year  or so of Paul's  life was a
period of some trial to him.   It was a time  of
waiting for fit occupation, instead  of earnest,
active, definite work, which a young man  of 
35
high purpose likes to be engaged  in.  He had
the wisdom to know  that he must be patient
until there was an opening for him.  But it was
not wasted  time.  It  was a  season of quiet
development for  his  excellent  natural powers.
He thought much, and turned to books  as  a
resource and  pleasure; studying  French, and
looking into  dramatic literature, and finding  a
fund of rich entertainment in old English plays,
and in the lighter comedy of a later day.
   In the autumn of 1855 circumstances offered
him a field of interest and abundant usefulness.
A large wharf belonging to his father had  been
burnt over, and required rebuilding.  The con-
duct of this important business, and afterwards
the care of the property, fell upon him.  It was
a laborious employment, compelling him to be
engaged constantly with its details, and  thus
appeared to be a  favorable beginning  for what-
ever mercantile enterprise might be before him.
Here it was, on this wharf, "day by day, that he
met with opportunities for sympathy and effort
in behalf of the poor and suffering.  His obser- 
36
vation of the unfortunate, and his application to
their  wants, was  unwearied.  Indeed, he was
peculiarly alive to the claims of all such classes
of persons.  Many  were the forlorn  children,
wandering and begging about the  streets, that
he provided for;  and he  was the last one to
see a  neglected, tempted girl, without  inquiring
how she lived, and putting her, if possible, in a
protected  situation.  Thus it was that he filled
his place,  cheerfully  performing his various  and
sometimes irksome  duties, and refreshing him-
self with  the pleasure of doing what good he
could to others.  Faithful and useful  in these
relations, what more could he  have been?  A
good  life is after this pattern ; and  the best life
and the noblest cannot rise above  it.
   Of the  home-side  of his experience, and the
traits he manifested in society and among his
friends  at  this time, his mother writes, " It  is
difficult to describe  the  social qualities of one
who thought nothing  of himself in relation to
society, who only obeyed his friendly feelings
in the  way his  position  allowed.   He  was 
37
 genial and graceful in all his  intercourse; with
 fine powers of conversation, always expressing
 the most decided opinions in a calm  manner;
 with good taste, gifted in various lines of enter-
 tainment ; capable of severe exercise ; fond of
 sport,—of  hunting, fishing,  driving, riding;
 with a self-possession equal to the event of the
 moment, his self-government fitting  him  for
 wise decisions in the  most conciliatory manner ;
 every one about him  turning to him to say what
 was right and best.   He had the largest charity
 for the faults of others, because he looked to
 causes  and motives  beyond the accidental ac-
 tions of men.  He despised gossip; and many
 is the common detractor that has been checked
 in a kind spirit by a  demand for authority and
 evidence with regard to an  evil story thought-
 lessly told.   It  is,  in fact, quite impossible to
 give an impression, to those who did not  know
 him, of his personal influence, or of the enjoy-
 ment of his  friends  in their intercourse with
 him, or of the dependence they placed  on  his
judgment and energy.   His step on the thresh-
        4 
38
old brought  a sense of security and  happiness
to his family.  If there was anxiety, who could
better relieve it ?  and, if there was peace and
sunshine, who more ready to share  in it, and
add to the comfort and joy ?"
  One of his sisters, referring to this  period  of
youth, writes, "----told me some days since
that you were  anxious to  recall some of the
lighter characteristics of our dear Paul.   Could
I give you  any thing that to me  would seem
worthy, or that would show what real humor he
had, I should consider no labor too great; but
I cannot express what I so well know.   I have
tried to jot down a few little childish recollec-
tions ; and they may serve to remind you  of
him.  I have greatly enjoyed the vividness of
his presence which I have had in trying to live
over with him these past days.
   " I think Paul had, from a very little*boy, the
power of impersonating any character which
interested him.   He used to love ballad poetry;
and I can remember liking, and yet hating, to
hear him repeat' Casabianca,' because  I often 
39
could not  keep the tears back, and because I
felt as if he were ' the boy.'   So  strong is this
feeling,  that I can never get rid of the though
when I  see this piece of poetry.
  " Certain passages  of Shakspeare I remem-
ber and know wholly from the thrill of terror I
felt in hearing him  repeat them.   So perfectly
did he lose his identity when playing in private
theatricals (for  which  amusement he  had  a
strong taste),  that  on one  occasion, when he
took  the part of a French  notaire (rather the
villain  of  the  piece),  I remember  feeling a
certain doubt whether he were not showing his
real  self in this  part, and whether all his life
previously had  not been acting.   He  threw
himself so completely into the  character,  that
the impression left on me was painful.
  " He could imitate  the cry of bird or beast
with wonderful accuracy; and when  he  would
spring round the room, up in the corners, or on
some high place, chattering and scolding like a
monkey, I felt afraid  of him, for the moment,
as I should of the veritable animal. 
40
  "When we  were children,  he was always
thinking  of tricks and pranks  that we could
play together ; and he had  the most comical
way of looking quite grave and innocent when
we were found out.  And then he would assure
me  he should never have  done  the mischief if
I had not suggested it; until, often, I have
really believed, that, some way  or other, I  did
originate it.  Finally he would add,  ' I forgive
you,  I  forgive you,'  making  me  feel  myself
the guilty  one.  This, however, was wholly by
ourselves.  He never shielded  himself from
punishment by any such fun.
  " One  Christmas Eve, when I was a little
girl, he completely took  me  in  by making  me
tell over to him the different presents  for all
the household, and then  bringing in his  own
name so naturally, that I fell into the trap,  and
told him what his present was to be also, to
the great amusement of father, who was listen-
ing to us.
   "When we were studying French  together,
he  would not speak  in  French  before  our 
4i
teacher, although  he was  so  thoroughly pre-
pared upon all grammatical points, that Dr. Ar-
noult used to say, ' Ah, Monsieur Paul est a
cheval sur les principes.'  But, when  Dr.  Ar-
noult was gone, he would shower forth sentence
after sentence of French intermingled  with
broken English.   A natural shyness made  him
unwilling, except  as a joke, to  try his knowl-
edge of the language.  Often did I  beg him,
amid my shouts of laughter, to let Dr. Arnoult
hear him once;   for  his accent also was ex-
cellent.
   " When we were playing together very much
like children, though we were  grown man  and
woman,  he would sometimes  suddenly stop,
and feign being hurt.   Although many experi-
ences of the trick  had made us all wary, yet so
perfectly would he act his  part,  being quietly
grave, and as if he were controlling himself in
pain, that thousands of times  I  have  had my
sympathy wholly  roused,  and told him how
sorry I felt; then  he would show me  by some
extravagant expression of suffering how com-
pletely I was tricked."
           4* 
42
  To go on now with the  more serious course
of his manhood.  Paul was married to Lucre-
tia W., daughter of the  late  Rev. Dr.  Lunt of
Quincy, Mass., on  the  17th of  March, 1859.
Their first home was, for a  few  months, in a
suite of rooms in Boston ;  but, with the coming-
on of summer, they moved to Quincy.   In the
autumn  they took a  small house in Tremont
Street,  near his  father's,  which  was prettily
fitted up to suit their tastes and wants.   Here,
in the following year, a child was born to them,
— a boy, named  for one  of  his  early friends,
Frank Dabney.
  Engaged in business, still occupied in leisure
moments with books, in daily intercourse with
a large  family  circle, with  a host of young
admiring  friends  about  him,  adding variety to
his  home, every  thing went  on smoothly  and
brightly, till the first alarm of war and  prepara-
tion for the field in 1861.   It was in  the winter
preceding the fall of Fort Sumter, that a friend
writes of going to  see  him  one  evening,  and
hearing his first utterance  of feeling upon the 
43
subject.  " How well  I remember it! " he says.
" Paul was sitting before the wood-fire in his
parlor, smoking; his wife with her  basket  of
work at  the  table ;  every thing  cheerful and
happy.  The  conversation turned to the stirring
events of the day.  Paul remarked upon  the
excited state  of  the public mind at the  South,
and  upon the  strong inclination of the  people
there to fight for disunion.   ' There  are plenty
of those  young men,' he said, 'hot for the field.'
I was rather incredulous; but he insisted that
he was not mistaken, and added significantly,
' I know of one, too, who will be ready in such
a cause to go forth to  meet  them.'  I  looked
about his pleasant  room, so  full of peace, and
with  the light and promise of many a blessing,
and  thought of what it would be  for him, and
such as he, to give  these comforts  up.  And
often have I recalled that scene and conversa-
tion  since,  and felt what high resolve was his,
and what a sacrifice he made, and had  already
then determined  to make, when the  hour came,
of every  thing dear and precious in  this home
below." 
44
   That  year was rich in simple  satisfactions,
 delightful  to look  back  upon.  His  shining
 qualities grew more conspicuous; and he  used
 the time kindly and well in cementing old friend-
 ships and  in the common ways of civility and
 entertainment.   The  following letter  from  a
 friend in reply to a request, that he would try
 to  give  some idea  of Paul as he was  at this
 time, free  and  light  hearted  among  his  inti-
 mates, affords the best information that  can be
 made use of upon this point: —
                      Brookline, Oct. 22, 1867.
   My dear  Mrs. Revere, — It gave me great
 pleasure to get your note, and would give me still
 greater did  I feel able to  properly give  you the
 information you wish.
   Paul,  though only a  year older than  I, was
 three years ahead of me in college ; and, as college
 men associate  more intimately  with  their  own
 classmates than with those of other classes, it came
 naturally to pass that  I  was more intimate  with
 Paul in the five years that succeeded my gradua-  ,
tion than ever before.  What added to it was our
little social club that we called " The Terrapin." 
45
   We were  nine  years  younger then, and  had
had  little either to sadden or sour us.  He, was
the best man  who could make most good hits ; and
nobody had the right  or  the wish to feel hurt by
them.  In this respect, Paul was well known as one
of the strongest of us.   Sometimes we would all
turn  on him, and try to overwhelm him ;  but he was
too good a fencer, and seldom was worsted.   I do
not mean to say, by any means, that we were aston-
ishing wits;  but I do affirm that we were  all very
fast friends, and well disposed to be merry at small
provocation.
   I  rather think that  the first  good wishes  that
your boy got  was when his health was  drunk  at a
meeting  of "The Terrapin" just  after  he  was
born.
   All  these  recollections may seem frivolous to
you,  and perhaps  they are  so: but to me they
are very sweet; for the essence  of them, after all,
is  affection, which is  one of the few things  that
really amount to   any  thing.  And  again: these
recollections  are cut off sharply from my  present
life, almost as those of an old man who  looks back
at  his  youth.  The war was  enough to cut  any-
body's life in two  by a broad  gap.  Our club was 
46
too much changed in those years to live afterwards.
Paul had  fallen  on the field of  battle.  My very
dear friend Ellis had  died far away.  Palfrey had
returned, but with a grievous wound and  broken
health.  It was no longer the same thing.
   All this gives no material to aid you ; but, indeed,
I have none to furnish :  you  cannot  put the social
charms of a man in a book form.  Witness the uni-
formly unsuccessful attempts  to give us a real idea
of the attractions of such men as Charles Lamb or
Irving. We can very  easily say that  Paul was
brave, even among the bravest; that he  had cool-
ness, and  sound sense,  and a sentiment of honor
that never failed.  But then  there are many brave,
honorable, and sensible men, who do not particular-
ly interest us, and therefore we have omitted some-
thing; and that something'^ precisely what is near-
ly impossible to  be conveyed in writing. . . .
   I am  sorry to have given  you only a few of my
recollections as they come up before me.
             Ever very faithfully yours,
                                          T. L.

   This brings  us to  the  end of the peaceful
path which our friend was allowed to pursue on 
47
earth.  As soon as there was a call for troops
to put down the Rebellion, his heart was warm-
ly engaged in the matter; and  the  moment he
saw his way open to a proper post of duty, and
place of  influence  and trust, he offered himself,
as did multitudes  of the bravest and  best, to
maintain the cause of the country.   His home
in Boston was broken up in  the  summer of
1861.  His family removed to Quincy; and he
attached  himself  as  Major to the Twentieth
Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, which was
being recruited at Readville under Col. William
Raymond Lee.
   From  this day to his death, his career was
that of a soldier, discovering gifts, and develop-
ing powers, especially adapted to that service.
   It was at this time that he received the fol-
lowing note: —

          No. 29, Winter Street, July 24, 1861.
   My  dear Paul, — We have selected a sword,
belt, and knot for you; and it  is now at Bent and
Bush's.  Will you call, when in town, and look at 
48
 it ? as we want your approval  before having it
 marked.
                 Yours ever,
                      E. C. Cabot, for
         A. Coolidge,     W. P. Mason,
         T. Cunningham,  W. G. Cabot,
         F. L. Lee,        C.  W. Loring,
         C. Dabney,       A.  Lawrence,
         D. Lamson,       B.  Crowninshield.

  In the summer of 1871 this sword, taken from
him at Ball's Bluff, was  returned to his family
by the courtesy of a Confederate officer, whose
name is unknown.
  Major Revere,  in  the camp,  gave  himself,
with his wonted energy and spirit, to  the task
of filling up the regiment, and  bringing it into
order.   In this arduous work he was associated
with many young men with whom he had always
stood in friendly relations.  Their high  tone
gave in time a character to the regiment, and
helped it to win a name of honor which it never
lost.
  His  mother,  in  her  journal, tells how his 
49
family were  affected  by the  step  he had  thus
taken.   She  writes,  "On  the   16th  of July,
1861, we moved, as usual in summer, to Can-
ton, and prepared our minds for the departure of
Paul.  His camp was near enough for us to see
him daily, and to understand his strong feeling
on the subject of the country, and for  him to
be aided by his father's wonderful firmness and
enthusiasm for the cause.  It helped to carry us
through his departure.  His wife and  all  our
united  family knew the full force of what we
were to endure at that moment.  We were sus-
tained  alone by faith in the wisdom  of God.   I
had resisted the impulse which led Paul  to this
solemn decision.  I could not be  reconciled to
the terrible sacrifices  he must make to  go.  If
I had at all realized the great future that hung
upon the conversation I had with him, I should
have treasured  up every word he uttered.  It
was so much above common remarks.   I made
all the objections a  mother has a right to ex-
press.   I reminded him of his father's  age, our
habitual  dependence on  him, most of all his
         3 
50
wife  and child, the breaking-up of our family
happiness, which  was founded  upon principle
and  affection, and was  the gift of  God.   He
answered, ' I  have weighed  it all; and there
is something  higher still.   The institutions of
the country, indeed free  institutions  throughout
the  world, hang  on  this moment.  The more
a man sacrifices, the more  power and right he
has  to   influence other  men.  I  should  be
ashamed of myself if I were  to  sit down  in
happy indulgence, and leave such a great matter
as this  to take  its course.  I  can carry other
men  with me ;  and with  them must struggle  for
the freedom and the principles that have built
up this  nation.  I will  never go  without your
consent; but I shall be humbled if I  stay at
home.'  Of  course I said, ' Do as you think
is  right.'  He  obeyed   his strong convictions,
and  left all  and went.   And  we,  suffering  the
utmost,  put our trust in the mercy of  God, or
we could not have borne it."
  The regiment left Readville on the fourth  day
of September, 1861,  and  was  ordered  to  the 
5i
Upper Potomac.   There they were encamped at
Poolesville, Md., for more  than a month.   In
the  mean time,  Dr. Edward  H. R. Revere,
brother of the major, had joined the Twentieth
as assistant surgeon.
   The following extracts from letters written at
this time contain some of Major  Revere's first
impressions of camp life : —
                        Sunday, Sept.  15, 1861.
   I find myself this  morning in camp  at Pooles-
ville.   We arrived here last evening, half an hour
after dark,  and consequently did not  pitch tents.
Indeed it was hardly desirable ; for a more perfect
night  I never saw, a bright moon, and not a cloud,
with the ground perfectly dry.  We shall be  about
four miles  from  the  Potomac, between  Edward's
Ferry  and  Conrad's Ferry.   The enemy  keep
pickets on the other side of the river to  watch us.
   The three regiments are encamped together on a
slope  between two higher ridges, not high hills, but
of the same character as all the country on this side
of the river, — hills of very much the same shape
as  the hills in Quincy, with  rounded  tops.  The
country is very beautiful, large farms in all  direc- 
52
tions ;  the  one on which we  are, being of seven
hundred acres, a large portion of which  is under
cultivation.   The trees are very fine ; all the trees
that we have at home, except elms and maples, and
many that we do not have, — evergreen-oaks, gum-
trees, and  many others.  The oaks are  the finest
that I have ever seen.
   Sept. 29. — It has been quite cold  for  several
nights past, with  frost, which  disposes of all fears
of fever and ague.   I very much doubt if it is ever
to be feared here, with ordinary care, as it is a  hill
country, with sandstone formation, and under culti-
vation  for more than  a century.  I have undertaken
the mess lately ; and  it is a great provocation to me,
with my fondness  for shooting, to see pigeons,
quails, and  squirrels about in  numbers, and not  to
be able to shoot them : but as we can only fire guns
between the hours of ten and twelve, owing to their
being mistaken for the guns of sentinels, I have to
let them go.

   Again, in the words of his mother's journal,
"On the 21 st of October was fought  the fear-
ful battle  at  Ball's  Bluff,  in which  our forces
were defeated; and both  our sons were taken 
53
prisoners, with Col. Lee and other officers of
the  regiment.    We  suffered much with  the
intelligence; but, as various  events transpired,
it  proved  a much greater trial  than we  could
have anticipated, and gave  us a sad winter in
1862.   There are many published accounts of
the battle ;  and we had interesting  descriptions
from our friends  in the Twentieth Regiment."
   A  private  in  the  Twentieth writes as  fol-
lows : —
                         Poolesville, Nov. 16.
   What I  am about to write I saw, and  you  can
rely upon it.  Sunday, Oct. 20, at about two, p.m., I
saw  the officer of the  day run to the drummers'
quarters, and order them to beat the assembly ;  and
the Twentieth Regiment was soon  formed  at com-
pany quarters, and marched to Edward's Ferry,
where we remained until four o'clock; when we
crossed the canal,  and marched to  Conrad's Ferry,
opposite Leesburg.  At this place we laid  down to
rest until eleven o'clock;  when we were ordered to
sling knapsacks, and stood in  line for an hour or
so, and then crossed to an island in the river.
  This island is three miles long, and divides  the
          5* 
54
Potomac  River  into two  equal parts.  The Fif-
teenth and  Twentieth Massachusetts  Regiments
remained on this island till morning ; when the Fif-
teenth commenced  crossing to the  Virginia side.
The landing was at the base of a hill which rises
nearly perpendicular to the height of one hundred
feet.  In order to gain the summit, the men were
obliged to defile single file  to the left, and  then  to
the right, when an open field was gained upon the
heights.  As soon as our forces reached the shore,
the enemy's pickets hastily retired, having wound-
ed only one of our men.  Five companies of the
Fifteenth Regiment were ferried across as fast  as
our limited means (which consisted of only one old
scow,  capable  of carrying  seventy-five men) would
allow.  When  they had reached the  high land, the
companies formed,  and marched in good order for
some  distance; when they were fired upon by a con-
cealed foe, and thirty fell, — all wounded in the leg
except one, who was  shot through  the body, and
killed.  Our brave men rallied, charged upon them,
and drove them from their  covert.   At noon, it was
decided to make a stand; and the Twentieth  Regi-
ment  were  ordered to prepare to  cross.   We
marched up the hill, happy  and gay, ready for the 
55
fight.   As we were winding our way up the hill, we
met a  soldier, who said, " You will have fun soon
after you get  to  the  top."   Other companies
pressed forward, until seven were in line of battle,
under command of the resolute Col. Lee.
   At two o'clock, four regiments  were  in order,
ready to receive the foe.  Fifteen minutes later, fir-
ing commenced in the woods upon  our left, and
increased to a  steady roar  of  musketry.   The
struggle was severe on both sides ; but the enemy
were driven back by  our  skirmishers without the
aid of the main body ; not, however, without losing
ten or twelve men.   Shortly after this  skirmish,
Gen. Baker rode up the hill; and his presence made
our force five hundred stronger.   He rode up to
Col. Lee, and in a familiar, unceremonious manner,
said, " How do you do, Col. Lee ?   We have had a
chance at  them, at last."  Then,  turning  to  the
line, he added, "Boys, do  you want to fight?" —
" Yes," was the  response.   " Then you shall have
a chance," said he, and turned his  attention to the
field.
   I have not stated what regiments composed  our
force.  They were the Fifteenth  and Twentieth
Massachusetts,  California  and  Tammany New- 
56
York.  Gen. Baker told us the truth.  The enemy
attacked  our  front in force, — not  apparently with
any intention of pressing it, but for the purpose of
attracting our attention in that direction, and then
to turn our left flank.  In stating our force, I forgot
to mention one battery, consisting of one thirty-two,
and two  four-pound  howitzers, under command of
the Rhode-Island Third Artillery.
  These  pieces opened  fire  on  the rebels, and
drove them back ; but it was only to draw a vigor-
ous fire on our left.   The action now became gene-
ral ; but to give you a description of it, God knows
I never can, for it was .beyond my  comprehension.
We were ordered to advance and fire.  Those who
had sufficient presence of mind did  so ;  but many
fired at random, without stopping to observe what
they fired at, or where they fired ;  and  the result
was, that a number of our own men, especially our
artillerists, fell by the hands  of their friends.  The
firing continued with terrific fury.   Our  men, be-
coming calmer, fired with better  effect,  and paid
more  attention to orders.
  The thirty-two-pound gun was stationed on the
left of the centre ; and we had to  march up  even
with this piece to deliver fire.   The third time  of 
57
our advancing to  fire, I cast my  eyes about  the
field, and saw our four-pound guns completely  de-
serted :  not a man was near them.  I was thunder-
struck  at the thought that our field-pieces were
lost; they being  our  only hope.  About this time
Gen. Baker called  out, pointing to our thirty-two-
pound gun, " Boys, stand by that gun. Defend that,
and  the day is ours  ; but, if that is lost, we  are
lost."   Meantime, the  gun was  fired five or  six
times ; and every discharge caused a lull in the  fire
of the  rebels,  but only to  commence again with
greater energy.  Our  company began to fall thick
and fast, being in the most exposed position, — near
the gun upon which the enemy's fire was concen-
trated.  Three  of the four horses  attached to  the
gun  were shot.   The safety of the gun  now  de-
pended upon the bravery of our men.  Every time
it was fired, it recoiled, and started down  the  hill.
The gallant boys grasped the wheels, and, stopping
it, reloaded it, and ran it back again.
   The  enemy had now gained our left sufficiently
to command the  little open space upon which we
were posted ; and they covered  the ground with
missiles of death.  Gen. Baker and  Col. Lee were
passing over the  field in every direction,  cheering 
58
the men, perfectly regardless of personal danger,
and  of the  dreadful  carnage  around them.  We
were ordered to cease firing, and to  lie down ; but
it was some time before  the order was understood
so as to be generally obeyed.  The demons  con-
trived  to advance through  the  woods on our left,
keeping up a constant fire, but with less effect; our
men having all fallen upon their faces, with their
rifles cocked, and ready to fire when ordered. " Rise
up ! " was heard.  " Forward, boys, forward ! "  We
obeyed ; opened a murderous fire upon them, and
continued it  for some minutes, the enemy return-
ing it with vigor.  At this time  our gun  was fired ;
and away it  went down the  hill,  till it brought up in
a little valley fifteen rods from  its position.  I was
at the distance of thirty or forty feet, and saw  it
start.  I ran towards  it,  hallooing at the  top of my
voice, " Stop it, stop it! "  But it was gone ; not a
man taking hold of it.  The enemy's fire began to
slacken ;  and finally they retired from the field.
   If ever I  felt any thing like joy, it was at this
moment.   We carried  the wounded to the rear,
and formed our line  of battle again.  Retreat was
out of the question ;  having only one boat to carry
us across the river.  In half an hour  the enemy 
59
returned, and renewed the battle.  We were now
pressed with an  overwhelming  force, and driven
back.  Gen. Baker fell dead.  Shortly after, Col.
Lee gave orders to fall back.  We retreated to the
water's  edge,  where  the  greatest confusion pre-
vailed.  Col. Lee ordered Major Revere to hoist the
white flag; but it brought no relief.   The boat had
carried over two loads of the wounded ; and, when
it arrived the  third time, men rushed into it, and
filled it to overflowing.  It was shoved into the
stream; and, when one-third of  the  way across, it
sunk.  The cries  that came from those poor drown-
ing mortals, I shall never forget.  Col. Lee,  Major
Revere, his brother Dr. Revere, and Adjutant Peir-
son, now started up the river, and I followed  them.
We  travelled about  a mile,  and came to a mill.
Before reaching it, we saw a negro, who started and
ran, but was made to return by the promise not to
injure  him. He  told  us  that there  was no  force
about there.  He  said that there was a skiff " down
in the river: follow that path, and you will find it."
The party was now increased to twelve or fifteen.
   I went to the water's edge, looked  up and down
the river, but saw no boat: I turned back to where
I last saw my companions, but could find no trace 
6o
of them.  What to do now, I was at a loss  to  de-
termine.  I thought of the river ; but it  was wide,
the water was cold, and I was foaming like a hound
after the chase.  I saw that the officers must be taken
prisoners, and that, if I followed them, it  would be
to share their fate.   God had protected me through
one  terrible scene; and I  felt encouraged by the
thought that he would enable me to cross the river
in safety.  I then took off my equipments, and laid
them under a fence with my gun.   I found a board,
took off my coat and shoes, laid them on one end
of it, and headed my frail bark towards the stream.
I took a strong and steady stroke, and continued it
till I reached shore upon the  island.  The  bank
was steep ; and I crawled to the top on my hands
and knees.  Straightening myself up, I took  a few
steps forward, and fell to the ground.   I received
only one or two scratches on my ear.  A spent-ball
struck  me on  the foot, making me a little  lame.
Our loss is heavy.  What are left  of us are being
armed and equipped anew.  I want to live  to see
the enemy defeated once.  The  men fought brave-
ly ; but our unfortunate position lost for us the field.

  The incidents of their capture  that  night, on 
6i
 the bank of the  river, as they were looking in
 vain for a boat to convey them across; the dis-
 comforts  and weariness of the  road to Rich-
 mond ; the trials of the tobacco-house in which
 they were first confined, and the  horrors  of the
 jail to which they were subsequently removed, —
 can only be known fully to the sufferers  them-
 selves, and to those who have  learned the story
 from  them.   The prisoners  endured a hurried
 march  from  Leesburg on  foot,  for fourteen
 hours, through  a  severe rain-storm,  without
 food  until they stopped to rest.   They were
 then taken in the cars  to Richmond, and hud-
 dled  into  a  large tobacco-house,  where  they
 found some unfortunate men who  had been
 there  since the battle of Bull Run, three months
 before, and  made  an addition of  several hun-
 dreds.  There were nearly eighty officers on  the
lower floor, in  the same apartment,  without
mattresses or covering, or any  change of  cloth-
ing, and supplied with prison  food. This seemed
hard  enough to those  who  had never known
what  any real privation was  before.  But a
           6 
62
harder lot was yet to befall some of them, with
a refinement of cruelty, which, of course, it  had
never  entered  their minds  to  conceive.  The
following letters will give but little idea of the
suffering or privations which   Dr. and Major
Revere endured during these long weeks.
  Each of  them carefully gave  the most  hope-
ful and cheering view that he could of the trials
which  they had passed through,  and which were
yet to be borne.
                      Richmond, Oct 27, 1861.
  My  dear Laura,— I wrote  you a few lines
on Friday, stating that we had been taken prisoners,
— Paul, Col. Lee, Lieut. Perry, Adjutant Peirson,
and myself.   Last Sunday I rode up to call on Gen.
Stone ; and, he not being at home, I rode down on the
tow-path with Col. Devens, who informed me that
some of his troops were on an island in the middle
of the  river, and he was expecting an attack.  After
I left him, I  met Col. Lee, with about two hundred
of the  Twentieth, marching up, and was ordered to
get my instruments, and follow as soon as possible ;
which  I did.  We remained on  the tow-path till
about twelve o'clock, when we crossed to the island, 
63
where  we found Col. Devens  about to cross the
river with a part of his regiment.  He  crossed in
small boats, the largest only carrying about a dozen
men.   Col. Lee followed with a hundred men to
protect Devens's rear, in case he was forced to re-
treat.  Every thing was quiet till after daylight;
when Paul and I, with several other officers,  who
were taking a view of the other side of the river,
were saluted with a few scattering shot  from some
of the  enemy lying concealed in  the  woods.   In a
few moments we heard two or three shots ; and one
of our  sergeants  was brought over  to  the island
wounded. By the time I had dressed his wound,
the firing was again heard, as  if a large  force  was
engaged  ; and  soon after  the  boats commenced
bringing  over  the  wounded.   Paul,  during  the
night, had had a scow, which held about sixty men,
brought around the island ; and,  the first  trip it
made, it brought over thirteen wounded.  I, being
the only surgeon, was, of course, very busy for some
time; so that I could not see much that was going
on, until about half-past eleven, when some other sur-
geons arrived.  At that time, the rest of  Devens's
regiment had mostly crossed; and, a  little after
twelve, Paul and the rest of our men were ordered 
64
 over, and I went with them.  We had hardly arrived
 at the top of the river's bank, when the firing again
 commenced, and continued, with slight intermission,
 until sundown, and, in fact,  after dark.  We  were
 receiving small re-enforcements all the time, and got
 over about fifteen hundred men.   Our men fought
 well; but it was of no use.  We were outnumbered,
 two to one, and were surrounded. It was a dread-
 ful slaughter; and it  is wonderful how any of us
 escaped.  I tried, at  first, to find a place for the
 wounded, where I could attend  to them ; but the
 firing was so  heavy, and  from so many directions,
 that, after two or three trials, I gave  it up, and de-
 voted  myself to  bandaging the wounds to  stop
 bleeding, and sending them across the  river.   You
 can form no idea of the closeness of the fire.   The
 enemy were  within three hundred feet of us ; and
 the air was  perfectly alive  with bullets.  There
 were two howitzers brought over ; but they were of
 no use, the officer in command, and most of his men,
being killed at the first fire of the enemy.   It was
the same with a six-pounder which arrived after-
ward.  The horses were all killed, and all but one of
the men.  Of twenty-two of  our regimental officers
who  went into the battle, we know that ten are 
65
wounded or killed ; and five of us are here ; and the
others, I hope,  may be safe.  After the battle was
over, we walked some distance up the river in hopes
of finding some means of crossing, but met a party
of cavalry, and surrendered.  We  were  taken to
Leesburg, and, after  a detention  of three or four
hours, at two o'clock were  started for Manassas.
We had a march of fourteen hours, with only one
rest of about twenty minutes, when we arrived at
Sedly Mills.  We expected to remain  there  all
night, but had scarcely got a fire built, and a com-
fortable seat, when we were ordered to march.  We
proceeded some three miles farther, when we arrived
at what  is called the " Stone House,"— a  house
which was used as a  hospital during the Bull Run
fight.   It rained hard during the whole  march,  and
the mud was awful.  The next morning we were
carried  in wagons  to Manassas, and  after having
remained in a barn, which was used  as a guard-
house, all day, took  the cars for this place in  the
evening.   Capt. Singleton  of Mississippi, who
came  down from  Leesburg  to  the  Stone Church,
was a very gentlemanly person, and treated us with
all the consideration  that he could: in fact, all the
officers  have been polite, with  one exception.  I
            6* 
66
think it  is very probable that we  may  be sent
farther south in the course of a few days.  We are,
of course, not  very luxuriously accommodated, but
have enough bread and meat  to eat, and water to
drink, provided by the government; but we have to
purchase every thing else.  Our lodgings are in the
lower floor of a tobacco-house, with about  seventy
others.   I hardly dare think of you at home, your"
anxiety must be so great; and we hardly dare hope
that you have heard that we are prisoners.   If there
is any possibility of sending any thing to us, we
need underclothes more than any thing, as we have
nothing but what we had on, and we shall  have to
husband our money with the greatest care.
                                    E. H. R. R.

                        Richmond, Oct. 24, 1861.
   I  take the first moment to send  to you word of
 my safety and health.  I am, as I trust you may hive
 heard, a prisoner at this place, captured with  Col.
 Lee, Edward, Adjutant Peirson, Lieut. G. B. Perry,
 after the battle near Leesburg, on Monday,  Oct.
 21.  Of course, my own misfortune has been noth-
 ing in comparison  to my anxiety on account of the
 distress  of all at home on our account.  I have en- 
67
deavored to keep up the hope that correct reports of
our fate might have reached you,  but have had to
reflect that no one who escaped might have known
it.  You must trust that the same  Providence that
has carried me unharmed  through  great  danger
will still be over us both for our greatest good.
                                        P. J. R.

                                     Oct. 27.
   I wrote  to you  Thursday 24, and  hope to com-
municate with you  occasionally, as the authorities
now seem inclined to  accord whatever facilities
they can consistent with a strict guard of their
prisoners.   We have plenty of wholesome food, and
have been  able to purchase such necessaries  as
were of immediate importance.  It is, of course, an
unfortunate event in our career; but,  when you re-
flect how much greater cause for unhappiness  the
friends of those brave fellows who remain  on the
field have, we must believe  it is for the best, and
trust that the same Hand which led us through that
rain of bullets will  guide us still.  The friends of
those who fell may indeed be assured that no man
can die in more thorough discharge of his duty
than they did. 
68
   The  admiration of all the officers of other regi-
ments,  as well as our own, was excited by Ed-
ward's  conduct  during the battle.   He was  the
only surgeon on the ground ; and all the wounded
were  carried to him.  The place where he was
established was often under a tremendous fire ; and
yet he went on with his work as coolly as if he had
been in  a hospital.
                                        P. J. R.

                                Nov. n, 1861.
   The authorities here desire to notify our govern-
ment of their intention to  hold  as hostages a cer-
tain number of prisoners  equal to the number of
prisoners on trial in New York, and, in case of their
conviction and execution,  to treat those  prisoners
in an exactly similar manner.   Those selected  as
hostages are  the officers of highest rank; and my
name is on the list, together with the names of all
field-officers  captured, and  three captains to make
up the number.   We continue well, and as cheerful
as  may be  under  the  circumstances.  I have
brought my mind to a full  realization  of our condi-
tion in all its aspects, and  trust  for that support on
which alone  we can with safety rely.   I  try not to 
69
dwell on the anxiety which I know you  must have
felt, and which is my greatest trouble ; and hope to
hear that you have been able to resign  yourself to
trust in the providential disposition  of our lives,
whatever that disposition  may be, and  to remem-
ber that all separations must  have an  end.  You
know with what feelings I undertook my military
life ; and I can assure you that my experience thus
far has been to  confirm  the  opinion  that I was
merely fulfilling: a duty.
     y       *    • y                   P. J. R.

                      Richmond, Nov. ii, 1861.
   Dear  Laura, — You  will  see  that we  still
remain  in the same place.  I have written several
times, but have not as yet heard from you since the
battle.   Yesterday afternoon we  received  a  visit
from Gen. Winder, who informed us,  that, his gov-
ernment having received information of  the convic-
tion of one of the privateersmen in New York, they
had concluded to select by lot one of the United-
States  field-officers to undergo the same punish-
ment which should be awarded to the privateers-
man.   Col. Corcoran was the one drawn ; and he is
to be confined as a condemned felon, and executed 
70
if the man Smith is.  After this was  done, he said
the government  had also  concluded to take an
equal number of our officers of the highest rank, and
confine them in the same manner that they confine
persons accused of the most heinous offences,  until
the fate of the privateersmen is decided ; when they
would  suffer the same.  Paul and  Col. Lee are
amongst  the  number, also Capt.  Ricketts, Capt.
Rockwell of the Massachusetts Fifteenth, Col. Cogs-
well  of the Tammany Regiment, who is a captain
in  Charles's regiment, and was taken  with us.  We
are all in good bodily health ; but,  of course, my
anxiety  is very  great as  to  what  may happen.
Love to all.
         Ever your affectionate husband,
                             E. H. R. Revere.

                     Richmond, Nov. 20, 1861.
  Dear  John,— Paul and the  other officers left
us last Thursday for the jail, to  await  the trial of
the privateersmen.  There were  seven in all  from
here, the rest of the fourteen being either in South
Carolina or at New Orleans.   They are confined in
one  small cell with  two small  windows.  I hear
from them every day, but  am not allowed to sc» 
7i
them.  You can imagine our anxiety to  hear what
action the government will take when they hear of
their imprisonment; for there is not the slightest
doubt in my mind, that whatever is done to the  pri-
vateersmen will be meted  out to our unfortunate
comrades.
   Col. Randolph  and wife  have  called on  me,  and
have very kindly procured all of our party some
underclothes ; we none of us having had a change
since the time of our capture.   I sent Paul's  and
the  colonel's  to  the jail  last night.  You cannot
realize what a gratification  it is to feel that you have
on an entire  clean suit unless you have  had  our
experience.
   I got up this  morning before light, took a  cold
bath, and then dressed up.  There are over seventy
of us  confined on the lower floor of a  tobacco-
house; and, when we turn in for  the night,  it is
almost impossible to pick your way about.  It is
quite cool here, there having been heavy frosts for
the  last few nights.  To-morrow is Thanksgiving ;
and we all — I mean  the Massachusetts men —  fully
 realize how many heavy hearts there will be among
you on that day.   Every one  of the officers in the
jail are married men, and most, if not all, with fami- 
72
lies.   We have taken into our mess a young man
from  Philadelphia,  Capt.  John Markoe.   He is a
very nice fellow, and had arranged to join our party
before Paul and the colonel left us.
   Part of the officers are going South in the course
of a day or two;  but  we have applied  to remain
until the last here, so as to be near our friends ; and
the request has been granted.
   We see the papers  every day; but little can be
learned from them, as  accounts of every thing are
as unreliable, to say the least, as at home.  With
love to  all.
                                     E. H. R. R.

           C. S. Prison, Richmond, Va., Nov. 23.
   I little expected, when I last saw you, to address
you  from the interior  of  a  tobacco-house  in  this
delightful city, where  I am confined as prisoner
of war.  We are  on the  ground-floor in a room
about a hundred feet long  by fifty wide, through the
centre of which run the  tobacco-presses.   Until
yesterday there have been from seventy to seventy-
five persons, who  have eat, drunk, slept, washed,
and gone through all the operations of nature here.
Yesterday, twenty were sent farther south, — I think 
73
to Alabama.  Paul, Col. Lee, and five other officers
of the highest rank, were removed to the jail a week
ago Thursday, to await the conclusion of the  trial
of the privateersmen, and  to suffer the same  pun-
ishment which is decreed to them.   They are  kept
in strict confinement in a small cell  hardly large
enough for them to lie down comfortably in, and are
allowed to see no one except the officers who  have
them in  charge.  The light which  they get comes
through  two small windows,  through which  they
have the cheering view of a brick wall.  I hear  from
them almost every day; and they keep their health,
although it seems hardly possible that they could
through the  winter, if the trials are put off, as we
hear they are, until next April.
   Our principal occupations here are eating, drink-
ing, and sleeping.  We have very few books, and
those not of the most instructive kind.  I play whist
almost every evening, and expect, by the time I am
released, to be  quite a crack  player; although I
never could bear to sit through more than three
games before.  We have  plenty of good meat and
bread to eat, and a straw  bed to sleep on, with a
comforter to cover us, provided by the  Confederate
government; but every thing else has to be bought.
            7 
74
We  did  not succeed in getting  any change of
underclothes until this week.   I do not mean to say
that we wore the same clothes without having them
washed ;  but, when they were washed, we had to go
without until they were  dry.
                                   E. H. R. R.
                                Nov. 23, 1861.
  You cannot imagine what a relief it is to me to
know that you have heard of our safety.  Paul, the
colonel, and five other officers, were removed to the
jail a week ago Thursday.   It was, of course, sad
enough for us to have them go : but they were very
cheerful; and the last words Paul said to me were,
" Remember, whatever may happen, it is all right."
Yesterday  a  large party of  prisoners left for the
South ; and twenty of the officers who were confined
here went  with them.  One would hardly believe
how hard it was to part with them : it seemed really
like  breaking up a family.  It makes it much more
comfortable for those who remain, as we were very
crowded.   I have given up my four-post bedstead,
in which I have slept since the first week, and ap-
propriated a more comfortable one nearer the door,
where there is better air.  I do not recollect whether
 I have  described  my  four-poster.   It  was  our 
75
dining-table turned upside down, and a straw bed on
it.  The table was raised up  on top of the stools ;
and the legs made a  very nice  place to hang my
clothes on.
  Thursday being Thanksgiving Day, we, with the
Massachusetts Fifteenth, indulged in a little extra
dinner. We  had a gallon and a half of oysters, a
piece of roast  beef, two kinds  of pudding  (rice
and  bread), and  half a bushel of ginger-cakes of
different sizes and kinds. It  was  rather  a  melan-
choly day to me ; and I felt more than ever the sep-
aration from the dear ones at  home, and'could not
help thinking of the many sad hearts there must be
among those who had always  before looked forward
to the day with so much pleasure.  I have  read
through all the books I could lay my hands on ; and
now the only amusements  are  walking up and
down,  smoking, eating, and  sleeping,  besides  a
game of whist or euchre in the evening.   I am
not yet reduced to  playing cards in the  daytime,
although there  are  a  great many  who do.  Paul
had a letter from a gentleman  in  Baltimore, giving
us credit with bankers here ; so that our minds are
relieved about distress for want of money.  We are
now  living as a joint-stock company, having put 
76
what money we had together, and spending as little
as possible.
                                   E. H. R. R.
                                    Nov. 27.
   Dear John, — I wish you would send me  a
suit of citizens clothes (cheap and thick), two suits
of underclothes, a brier-wood pipe, a pair of boots,
and my overcoat, which was left at  home by mis-
take.   Peirson has written to his brother for the
same things.  These letters go by two naval officers
who have been released.   One of them is William
A. Abbott of Andover, whom you will probably see,
as he intends returning home, being rather used up
by four months' imprisonment.   He has been con-
fined with us  here.
                                   E. H. R. R.
                                Nov. 27, 1861.
   We are,  as* you will have heard, in close confine-
ment as hostages for the crew of "The Savannah "
at New York. As to the result of our imprison-
ment, you will have better opportunities to judge than
I, under the circumstances.  We hope confidently
for the best.  I am not, and, you will  believe me, do
not mean to allow myself to be, discouraged.  There
is nothing to make me anxious as to my own health, 
77
although the experience is any thing but pleasant.
Edward received John's letter, which he was able
to send to me, and which was a great satisfaction.
We had  a  note from C. L. P. to-day: they are all
well, and  in good spirits.  You need have no fears
of  my becoming  discouraged ;  for I long  since
brought my mind to consider the situation cheer-
fully in any event.  I received Josie's and Jennie's'
letters, and send them all the love they can wish,
as I do to  all,  though necessarily in few  words.
The photographs are the source of the greatest en-
joyment to me.  Write to me, as fully as seems ex-
pedient, of our prospects.  Have  no fears for my
health; for there is no occasion for it, I assure you.
Take good care of my boy and yourself, and trust
with me,  that, under   Providence, all will  go well.
Try to  realize  all that I would say, if I could.   I
do not think I ever mentioned, that, in the battle, I
received a slight scratch.  It amounted to nothing,
as you may know from our march the next day.   A
ball  grazed my leg: it is long since well.
                                        P. J. R.
                                     Nov. 27.
   I heard that Paul and the colonel were well  to-
day,  and that is as much as we have known of them
            7* 
78
for the last few days ; all communication with them
being strictly prohibited.   I  drew a hundred dol-
lars a few days ago, as I thought it was better  to
keep the few dollars of gold that I  had, in  case  of
any sudden change in our position ; and the bankers
sent us a letter from their Baltimore correspondent,
requesting them to let us know that there  was no
danger of the privateersmen being  hung,  at any
rate, at present.  We are all well, and I really feel
in much better spirits than  I have since our friends
departed.
                                    E. H. R. R.

                                  Dec. 8,  1861.
   I have received  my underclothes, and Peirson a
box of clothes  for the men, from Mrs. Lee, which
he distributed yesterday.  They were very grateful,
as the poor  fellows  were  very  much  in need  of
them.  He said they were very much  delighted  to
see him, and  inquired after  me.   He had an oppor-
tunity of seeing those in  the  hospitals ; and all are
doing well, with the exception of  one or two who
are consumptive.   It is quieter this afternoon than
it  has been  at any  time since  we have  been  in
prison, as almost every one is writing.  We have
been notified that a flag of truce  goes to-morrow. 
79
You cannot imagine what a relief it is ; for there is
generally such a talking going on, that it is almost
impossible to think, or hear yourself speak.   The
men must have suffered a good deal with the cold
the  last week.  Those who are confined  over us
were walking up and down almost  all night.  I
understand from the commissary, that they are  to
be furnished with comforters  as soon as they can
be made ;  but it seems as if our government might
furnish them with blankets or overcoats.  I have
felt in much better spirits since I have had John's
letters, and am in great hopes that something may
happen to relieve our friends, or make them  more
comfortable, before long.
                                    E. H.  R. R.

                                Dec. 15, 1861.
   We have been having quite  an excitement the
last  few days,  as  there  have  been  rumors  of a
general exchange of prisoners ; and this afternoon
we heard that there were to be seventeen officers
exchanged immediately.  Of course, we do not ex-
pect to be of the number, as there are so many who
have been here for so much greater length of  time ;
but yet it is very pleasant to think that some of our
number are going to be released, and that our time 
8o
will be coming, if we  are only patient.  The Adju-
tant received the clothes from  the  State, and has
commenced delivering them, and also a notice from
Baltimore, that a thousand dollars are placed at his
disposal  for  the  men.  Markoe received  some
books from one of his  friends :  so  we  have had
some reading the last few days.  Peirson, also, had
one or two from home, among them " The Pickwick
Papers," which, you know, is always  my  great
resource.
                                   E. H. R. R.
                                Dec 19,  1861.
   We have had quite an exciting week of it,  there
having been a  continual rumor of exchange ; and
our chaplain, Mr.  Mines, has been exchanged for
a Dr.  North, who  was confined at Fort Warren.
He discovered that Dr.  North was there,  and made
application to  the government for an exchange.
Perhaps  you can  discover  an assistant surgeon
there.  One of our  number, Quartermaster Hart
of Indiana, has written  quite a funny song  on the
release of the prisoners ; and all the singers amongst
us  have been  making the  house  ring  with it.
Several Confederate officers have been in  to hear
it; and last night we had a visit from a glee-club of 
8i
the prisoners, privates in the California regiment,
who sang very well.   We hear that a hundred and
fifty of the prisoners are  going South this week;
but I hope none of us.
   I went into the office last evening to see a gen-
tleman, with Lieut. Hooper and Peirson, and had
quite  a pleasant hour smoking and talking.  One
person, a judge somebody, took Hooper one side
(not knowing that he was a prisoner),  and told him
he really thought those Yankees were  quite gentle-
manly fellows.  When Hooper.informed  him that
he was one  of the prisoners, he was  quite  taken
down, and had not much more to say.
                                   E. H. R. R.

                                    Dec 20.
   We continue in the  same position as since we
left Edward.  We are all  well and in good heart;
though you can readily understand the  monotony
of the imprisonment.  As  to its duration, we have
no means of judging, but  from  what we hear from
home, as it depends so entirely on the movements
there.  I knew  that  Parker  would be actively in-
terested.  It is  from* the personal efforts of such
men that we have most to hope. 
82
  I was interrupted here by a visit from Mr. Faulk-
ner.  It was very pleasant to meet one who had so
lately seen you ; and his visit was the more satisfac-
tory from being the first that we have been allowed
to receive.   He was extremely courteous, and pro-
fuse in offers to do any thing in his power.
                                        P. J. R.

                                     Dec 20.
   I am very well: have  no fears  for my health.
Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to hear
that father continues so well; for I know how fully
he comprehends,  in all its aspects, the present con-
dition of affairs.   Give my love to him, and tell him
that I have never regretted my decision  less than
I do now.   It has given us all the greatest satisfac-
tion to hear of the kind  treatment received by the
prisoners held by our government; and we sincerely
hope  that it may continue without regard to our con-
dition.  Let us remember that we are before the eyes
of the civilized world, whose personal feelings are
not enlisted,  and  who will therefore  be  influenced
solely by the  acts of the parties engaged.  I desire
that no friend of  mine will neglect an opportunity
of serving  prisoners  in every possible  way.  But 
83
they must not hope, in so doing, to affect our con-
dition ;  for it will produce no effect whatever : that
depends on official  acts.
                                       P. J.  R.

                                      Dec 24.
   We had a note from  our friends in the tobacco
warehouse, saying that they were to be allowed to
send  communications to us.  It will be a great
pleasure to us, as we have heard from them directly
but seldom.
   Our days are all the same.   We go to bed early,
—I, as you will have guessed, the last,—never later
than ten o'clock ; and rise from eight to nine (myself
not the first).  When breakfast arrives, this and a
pipe occupy the time for an hour or more, when
we walk in the area for half an hour, during which
the room is swept (all taking turns at it).  Col. Lee
and I then read  prayers, after which, until three
o'clock (when dinner comes), we occupy the time as
best we can.  Between four and  five, another half
hour in the yard, and darkness ;  from  which time
until bed we read aloud, or play cards.
  We are a very good-tempered  party, fortunately,
and rub against each other without much friction.
                                        P. J. R. 
84
                                 Jan. io, 1862.
   I wrote to you Jan. 3, the day  on which I re-
ceived my Christmas box — or, rather, heard of it.
I never looked in my  stocking with greater delight
than I had in opening it.   Every thing was in it
according to the list, and every thing  I wanted.  I
recognized all the presents,— particularly John's, in
the pantaloons pocket,— and thank  you  all  very
much. I wear Jennie's cap so much, that I fear I
shall become bald.  I am very well, as when I last
wrote, as are all the party.   We remain in the same
position as heretofore.   I think that I receive most
of the letters which are written : so, of course, the
more  the better.   And, the  oftener that I hear that
you are all well, the  easier my position.   I have
sent John's letter to Edward.  I hear of him often,
though we have  few chances to correspond.  He is
well.   I have as  little as ever to write about;  for the
little varieties  that occur, even in our small world,
are usually not  to be  mentioned to "ears polite,"
and are oftenest due to some member of the " fust
colored circles " unhappily incarcerated.
   As I have before written, the days slip by rapidly.
   I don't think that I told you, that, on Christmas
Day,  we had roast turkey and (think of it!) oysters, 
85
the gift of our kind and indulgent jailer.  A lady,
Miss Van Lew, has been allowed to send us some
books, which were very acceptable,  as  our stock
was  quite limited.  Saturday, n. — All well this
morning.  Capt. Gibbs has come for letters.  Love
to all.
                                       P. J. R.

                                Jan. 26, 1862.
   We have  just been cheered by a visit from C. L.
P., with the  news  of his exchange.   He hopes to
get off to-morrow.  He will  write to  you at home
of us all.  We remain in the same position as here-
tofore.   Edward  was allowed to  visit  us several
times last week.  He is very  well and cheerful.   I
manage to get exercise enough for health ; and, as
we have clothes  in abundance, I  have no fears for
the future.   A lady of this place  has sent  us,  on
several occasions, various nice things, the previous
absence of which, however, was our least discom-
fort.   I assure you we get on much better than you
at home suppose ; for, with health and  good tem-
per, quarters as close as ours may be quite endur-
able.
   I write in  hopes of sending this by Mr. Ely, who
is  exchanged for Mr. Faulkner.   Believe me, that,
            8 
86
should I be released from this disagreeable position,
the experience of the  past few months  will have
done much to soften certain defects which my here-
tofore easy life  has cultivated, and thus prove not
a misfortune, but a benefit; and, whatever  the re-
sult, you may be sure that I estimate the affairs  of
this life much more at their true value (which I con-
ceive to be  one of the great objects of existence)
than ever before.   From  this text you must write
the rest of my letter.
                                       P. J. R.

                                 Jan. io,  1862.
   Since  my last letter,  Dr. Fletcher  and  myself
have had our attention  occupied with the sick and
wounded most of the time.   You can hardly realize
how much the enjoyment has been  of the little
liberty which we have ;  the whole extent of our walk
being,  not more than from your mother's house
round by the Wards'  gate on Washington  Street,
back by their  road on  to  Pleasant Street.  Our
written parole  is for the whole city of Richmond ;
but we gave a verbal one not to go out of certain
limits, which is as agreeable to ourselves as to the
authorities, as we only took it at the request of the
acting surgeon of the  post,  to assist  him in the 
87
performance of his duties.  No one could believe
that there could be such a change in the appear-
ance of patients as there was in the sick here from
merely knowing that we were Yankee doctors.  The
patients sick with typhoid fever  showed  it more
than any others,  although there was no  material
change  in the treatment.   It seemed to  brighten
them up; and a  few words of encouragement did
them more  good  than any  medicine.   I  think
that the whole  disease took a favorable turn from
our first visit;  for there has been only one death
out of a hundred and ninety-six patients  in the
last  ten days, and  that was a man wounded at
Manassas.   The  last few days we have been very
busy in getting ready the wounded, nursing them up
in every way, so as to get them  home.  There are
several who  cannot live here but  a  week or two ;
but we feel as if the idea of getting  under the old
flag will revive them sufficiently, at any rate, to see
their wives if they go to meet them.
                                   E. H. R. R.
                                Jan. 15, 1862.
   I have just come from the boat where a hundred
and forty-eight of the prisoners are about to leave
to-morrow.  I went to the jail yesterday, and spent 
88
four or five hours with  our friends.   Paul and the
rest are well, but look rather pale from their close
confinement.   They are in good spirits.
                                    E. H. R. R.

                                Jan. 27, 1862.
   I have  received the cod-liver-oil,  &c, from the
State, which  I shall forward  to Salisbury, N.C.;
the majority  of our  men being there,  and  the
hospitals here having been supplied by the United-
States Sanitary Commission.  Peirson received the
news  of his  being exchanged yesterday; and  he
starts for Washington to-morrow, where he expects
to be  detained  some  time, as he is  determined to
do something for the relief of Paul and the colonel,
if it is a  possible thing.   I cannot help  feeling
that the testimony of an eye-witness  of their miser-
able condition will have some effect on the govern-
ment.  He will  remain there until  he finds  out
whether they will do .any thing or not.
   Dr.  Fletcher and  myself were returned to the
prison last Monday ;  there being no further use for
our services  there now,  having two Confederate
surgeons here, and only about fifty patients.  The
week  before  we came in, we  moved a hundred 
89
and fifty of the sick and wounded down to the boat,
and saw them start safely  on their way: we  also
moved the sick that were left into another hospital,
organized it, and got it  started in  good shape.   I
have not seen Paul since last Sunday, but have a
permit to visit them to-morrow.   Peirson was there
to-day to bid them good-by, and reports them all
well.
                                    E. H. R. R.

                                     Jan. 27.
   Dr. Fletcher and I had a run out for about three
weeks, visiting the  hospitals, but were ignomini-
ously returned to prison after having shipped off
home a hundred  and fifty of the sick and wound-
ed, and  removed  fifty  more  across  the  street,
selected the stewards and nurses, and got the  hos-
pital in good running-order.   The  reason given
was, that the  commander  of the post would not
have two  surgeons under pay,# loafing about doing
nothing ; whilst we were doing all the work.  I was
not very sorry to get back again into the old quar-
ters, excepting for the  sake of the  men, who en-
joyed having their own surgeons.
                                    E.  H. R. R.
            8* 
9o
  To quote now from Mrs. Revere's journal : —
  " Col. Lee and Paul were  among  those hos-
tages.  They were waited on  in the  tobacco-
house one Sunday afternoon early in November,
and told that the trial was proceeding in New
York, on which their lives  depended.  If the
privateers were  condemned and hung, their fate
would be the same.  Gen. Winder,  the officer
sent to make known their cruel and critical posi-
tion, informed them that they should have time
to write to their friends, and  then they were to
be removed to  the county jail on prison fare.
There were seven  officers chosen by  lot to  go
together to this wretched place.  The letters
they wrote  were calm,  but  expressive of their
sense of the  perilous situation they were in.
Col. Lee asked Gen. Winder,  whom he had
known at West  Point, if his  quarters would  be
more uncomfortable than those at the tobacco-
house, where seventy-five men lived in one room.
The answer was, that he would have his apart-
ment prepared, and a servant to wait on him.
No  words but those of common courtesy — few 
9i
and dignified, as became the occasion — passed
between these old acquaintances.  The Colonel
asked no favors for himself or the others ; but
he was deluded by the ready promises given him
of proper treatment,  and went, on the ioth of
November, to Henrico-county jail, hoping that
quiet and privacy would compensate for space.
They heard the key turned upon them, and were
left—without seats, or a single comfort— stand-
ing on a floor  just washed from hens' and various
filth.   Some  hours  later the  jailer appeared ;
and  Col.  Lee asked for the  apartment  Gen.
Winder  had  promised  them. He  answered,
this was all the room they were to have.  ' Four-
teen slaves had been very comfortable there last
summer.'   They saw  at once what they were to
expect.  They did not leave that  room, for any
purpose,  for several days.  The atmosphere be-
came intolerable, aggravated  by the  smoke of
pine-knots burned in the room  under theirs.
They were denied the use of  their own money
for the procuring of any comfort; and no wash-
ing of  clothes was allowed them.  Indeed, they 
92
had no change of garments, and were compelled
to endure the visitation of every form of ver-
min ; among others, of rats running over them
as soon as the light was put out at night.  For-
tunately Capt. K----, one of their  company,
was so much afraid of rats, that he was glad to
keep awake, and  beat them  off.   Before long
the three unfortunate prisoners under them were
removed, and eighteen miserable free negro
women  and children  were brought  from  the
country, and confined in this small cell, increas-
ing the dreadful state of the air, and adding to
the noise, and sense of misery.
  " Col. Lee, Paul, and the others, were in this
prison,  with  little light  or  air (the opposite
room filled  with poor, low  criminals), from  the
ioth  of  November till the 5th of February.
  " During these weary months, Paul maintained
a spirit of cheerfulness, doing  what he could to
amuse and  sustain his  fellow-prisoners.  Some-
times he would read to them, and sometimes
tell stories.  They had one  volume of Shak-
speare, which served them a good turn;  and 
93
 with the aid of Capt. Bowman,  another young
 man, the entertainments were varied with cari-
 catures and songs, and all the fun they could
 make.  And thus they kept  up the noise  and
 excitement to prevent depression,  and while
 away the time.
   " They had one visit from Gen. Winder in this
 place.  He had  been  a fellow-student  of Col.
 Lee's, at West Point, and knew that they were
 gentlemen.  He  entered, and  said, '  I  have
 called to  see if you were comfortable,  gentle-
 men.'   After a moment's hesitation, Col. Lee
 answered,  ' We  accept this  treatment  at  the
 hands of your  government;'  and Winder re-
 tired, and refused, afterwards, to  give  a  clergy-
 man, who was a friend of Col. Lee's, the right
 to visit them, — a privilege not often refused to
 prisoners.
   " Every  morning Col. Lee or Paul read a re-
 ligious service from the  Prayer Book; showing
 that they lived by faith in God's power and
 love.   After the first few days they were allowed
to exercise half an hour,  twice a day,  in  the 
94
gloomy yard that surrounded the jail.  Paul en-
joyed carrying  sugar, or some little luxury, to
the poor negro  children pent up in the dirty cell
under them.  It was all he could do ; but  this
was a  comfort,  taking him  out of his own
wretchedness for a moment.  Stifled and crowd-
ed ; with a little stove for cooking, that  heated
up  the odors and the   damps ; small light by
day, and utter darkness by night, — there they
were,  seven wasted  men, for thirteen  weeks,
their lives hanging on  a thread ; not knowing
any day, but, before its close, they might be led
out to death upon the gallows, yet dispelling
their fears by Christian trust, and ministering to
each other of true good cheer, and  thus rising
above their  grievous load.  It was a  scene of
unfailing courage and faith.  Its heaviness was
lightened by the principles which  were then
tested and proved.  How heavy that condition
was may be imagined a little, when it is remem-
bered that Dr. Revere,  being allowed  to go to
the grating of the cell, one day, to  speak with
his brother, could hardly see through the  dim 
95
aperture, or breathe the foul  air.  How they
had survived, he said, he  could not tell; how
they had escaped sickness, or broken minds or
powers.  And for himself, the suspense he had
endured, anticipating that each day might bring
the news of his  brother's sentence,  with the
shock produced by the sight of the reality of his
misery, left  its stamp upon  his face  while he
lived.   A near friend  exclaimed,  ' Edward's
face has the look of one who has seen  a terrible
sight, never to be forgotten.'"
   The following account  of their prison-life is
from the pen of a fellow-prisoner : —
   "On Sunday,  Nov.  io,  1861, Gen. John
H. Winder,  commanding the  Department of
Richmond,  accompanied  by his staff, was ob-
served to alight at the prison office.  It being
an unusual occurrence for his  visits to  be at-
tended with such ceremony, much surmise arose
as to its cause.  A few moments elapsed,  and
he entered  the building,  attended by the staff
in full dress uniform.  Directing one of them
to clear the room of all persons excepting the 
96
Federal officers, he took a position in the centre
of the floor, and announced that he had a most
unpleasant duty to perform.   He then read  the
following order from  the Confederate War  De-
partment : —
                 C. S. War Department,
                      Richmond, Nov. 8, 1861.
  Sir,—You are hereby instructed  to  choose by
lot, from  among the prisoners-of-war of the high-
est rank,  one, who is to be confined in a cell appro-
priated to convicted felons ; and who is to be treated
in all respects as if such  convict; and  to be held
for execution  in  the  same manner as  may be
adopted  by  the enemy for the  execution of the
prisoner-of-war,  Smith,  recently  condemned to
death in  Philadelphia.  You will also select thir-
teen other prisoners-of-war, the highest  in rank of
those captured by our force's, to be confined in the
cells  reserved for prisoners accused of infamous
crimes ; and will treat them as such so long as  the
enemy shall continue so to treat  the like number
of prisoners-of-war  captured by them at sea,  and
now for trial in New York as pirates.   As these
measures are intended to repress  the  infamous at- 
97
tempt now made by the enemy to commit judicial
murder on prisoners-of-war, you will execute them
strictly, as the mode best calculated to prevent the
commission of so heinous a crime.
             Your obedient servant,
                         J. P. Benjamin,
                      Acting Secretary of War.
To Brig.-Gen. John H. Winder,
        Richmond,  Va.

   " Announcing that it was necessary to draw
by lot the name  of one of the  five Federal
colonels, prisoners-of-war, to be held  as  a  hos-
tage  for  Smith,  Gen.  Winder  caused   the
names of the officers to be written on separate
slips of paper, which were placed in a tin case,
from which Hon. Mr. Ely was requested to draw
one  of the names.  It was Col. Michael Cor-
coran, Sixty-ninth  New-York State Militia.
   " Gen. Winder then stated,  that, as  only ten
Federal field-officers were held as prisoners-of-
war,  three captains would be chosen by lot to
complete  the  required  quota   of   hostages.
Capts. Rockwood,  Ricketts, and  McQuaid were
          9 
98
chosen.  With  imperfect information, and in-
distinct hearing of the order as read, we looked
on  in  silence during the  ceremony.   But as
the names of Cols. Lee  and  Cogswell were
called,  under whose command we had stood
upon  the battle-field, and  for  whom respect,
admiration, and  esteem were blended in our
hearts, sadness,  sorrow, and sympathy were
displayed in  the features of every member of
that little crowd.   Yet when we  saw the cheer-
ful  countenance  of Col. Lee, and  the  quiet
equanimity o/ Col. Cogswell undisturbed, the
shadow of portending evil seemed to disappear.
  " When Gen. Winder  and his aides left the
room, we gathered in groups, eagerly discussing
the principles of the policy, its bearing, causes,
and effects; and, ere the day closed, we looked
upon  the subject with increasing  cheerfulness
and confidence, fully believing that  our govern-
ment would not  allow those veteran officers to
be long confined in a felon's cell, or to  suffer  a
felon's doom.
   "On the 12th  of November, Gen.  Winder 
99
again visited us, and held another drawing, to
choose two  officers in  lieu  of Capts.  Ricketts
and McQuaid, who were wounded at  Manassas,
and who, at the time of drawing, were  confined
by their wounds to  the hospital.  Capts. Bow-
man and Keffer  were  chosen, making the list
of hostages as follows; viz.: —
Col. Michael Corcoran,
Col. M. Cogswell,
Col. W. Raymond Lee,
Col. W. E. Woodruff,
Col. A. M. Wood,
Col. Orlando B. Wilcox,
Lieut.-Col. G. W. Neff,
Lieut-Col. Samuel Bowman,
Major James D. Porter,
Major Paul J. Revere,
Major Israel Vodges,
Capt. Henry Bowman,
Capt. George W. Rockwood,
Capt. Francis J. Keffer,
69th Regt. N.Y. State Militia.
42d Regt. N.Y. Volunteers.
20th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
2d Regt. Ky. Volunteers.
14th Regt. N.Y. State Militia.
1st Regt. Mich. Volunteers.
2d Regt. Ky. Volunteers,
8th Regt. Penn. Volunteers.
38th Regt. N. Y. Volunteers.
20th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
U. S. Artillery.
15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
Col. Baker's Cal. Regiment.
   " The hostages, one and all, bore  themselves
with manly pride and hardy patriotism, willing
to suffer whenever and  wherever  the interests
of their government required the sacrifice.
   u On  the   14th   of   November  we  were 
IOO
called  upon  to  bid them farewell.  As they
passed from the room, we grasped each hand
in silence ; for though the heart was steeled, and
the purpose steady, we  could not, without emo-
tions  of heartfelt  sympathy,  see  gray hairs,
honored at home, and young spirits flashing but
a month ago in the eager strife  of war, go to a
prison cell.
  "The  cell  in Henrico-county jail, in  which
(seven in number) they are confined, is seventeen
feet long  by  eleven feet  wide.   It has  two
windows, each twenty-four inches square, pro-
tected by transverse iron  bars, opening upon a
high wall, enclosing the  prison's narrow yard,
affording them only six  hours  of daylight in
which to read or  write ; and, to do either  at any
hour of the day, it is  necessary for them to
cluster closely round the  window.  Previous to
leaving  the warehouse, they purchased  camp-
cots of the smallest size, which, when  spread
out at night,  entirely occupy the cell  in  the
prison, leaving no space to move around.
  " In the  morning they are allowed to remove 
101
the cots to the corridor ; and the rough pine
benches which  they occupy during the day, and
which  are removed  at  night, clutter  up the
room to such an  extent, that  the  usual  prison
privilege  of pacing  the  floor is  denied them.
They are allowed twenty  minutes each, in the
morning and afternoon, to exercise in the prison-
yard, four feet wide, extending around the build-
ing, which is of square form and massive  struc-
ture.  They are furnished the usual jail-rations,
consisting of  bacon and  corn-bread, and  are
not permitted to supply their table with food  at
their own expense.   Yet, finding their jailer not
insensible to bribes, they have purchased from
him the privilege  of buying  food, which he has
cooked, and serves to them at a stipulated price
per day.  This  jailer is a  coarse,  ruffianly,
drunken sot, who reads their letters, and pro-
claims  their domestic  affairs throughout  the
brothels of Richmond.  On  one  occasion, de-
livering a  letter  he remarked,  ' Colonel, your
wife writes in fine spirits : keep yours up.'
   " Below the  room occupied by the  hostages
          9* 
102
 are two  cells, constantly filled by drunken  ne-
 groes, white felons, criminal women  of every
 color and caste, mingled together in filth, stench,
 and vermin.   In one cell, the same size as that
 of the hostages, four negro women and fourteen
 children  are confined.   Their  husbands and
 parents  being  within  the  Federal lines, they
 were removed to Richmond.  The stench from
 these cells rises to that of the hostages, making
 the atmosphere nauseating  and  stifling, both
 day and  night.   The jail-yard is used for whip-
ping the  negroes of Richmond ; and the whip-
ping-post is under  the  window  of their cell,
where they hear the agonized yells of the poor
negroes.   The building  is filled with body ver-
min ; and at night it is sometimes impossible to
sleep, owing to  the  rats scampering over  their
beds.   Other privations too disgusting for these
pages are endured  by them, making  the heart
sick at the contemplation of their  brutal treat-
ment.
  " As information was received by us of the
sufferings and  privations  of the  hostages,  it 
                      103

elicited  from  all the  deepest sympathy, which
did  not  expend  itself  in  useless  repinings.
Seven  warm  hearts nobly responded to  the
promptings  of sympathy.  An earnest and af-
fecting petition to the Confederate War Depart-
ment was drawn up, soliciting the substitution
of the names subscribed in lieu of those already
confined as  hostages.   It represented the in-
creasing ill  health of those officers; alluded to
their age, and to their superiority in rank to pri-
vateers ; contrasted  their  condition and treat-
ment with that of the latter; and concluded with
a  warm  appeal,  based upon humanity, for the
privilege of  being held  as substitutes for the
hostages.  The names of the young officers who
so freely proffered  themselves as substitutes are
as follows: —
Capt. John Markoe,
Adj. Charles L. Peirson,
Lieut. William E. Merrill,
Lieut. George B. Perry,
Lieut. J. Harris Hooper,
Lieut. J. E. Greene,
Lieut. Charles M. Hooper,
Col. Baker's Cal. Regiment
Mass. 20th Volunteers.
U.S. Engineers.
20th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
15th Regt. Mass. Volunteers.
Col. Baker's Cal. Regiment 
104
  " In a few days a verbal and  monosyllabic
reply came, ' No.'
  "When  Mr.  Faulkner returned  from  the
North, in  December, he  visited them, and ob-
tained  permission  for the officer commanding
the prison to visit the jail weekly.  For nearly
two months, they were not allowed to communi-
cate in person  with their subordinate officers.
Finally, owing to authentic information from the
North, affirming the comparative comfort of the
privateers,  permission  was  granted Adjutant
Peirson of the Twentieth Massachusetts  Regi-
ment, Mr. Ely, and  Dr. E. H. R.  Revere, Mas-
sachusetts Twentieth  Regiment, to visit  them
from time  to time.
  " On the 4th of February, we were astounded
by the pleasing intelligence that  the  hostages
would be  restored to  the warehouse.   On the
morning of the  5th, we were startled by three
loud cheers, given with a  will by the privates in
an adjacent warehouse.  We rushed to the win-
dows, and saw the hostages  approaching  the
prison.  In a few moments they entered.   Can 
105
we ever forget the scene ?   Its hearty gladness
would have repaid, almost, for a lifetime of suf-
fering.   The  pale  features  of  the hostages
seemed to light up  with pride and gratitude at
the greeting of affection and sympathy.   And
as the little band clustered around them, and
listened to their narration of daily suffering and
privations, the scene presented a  picture honor-
able to the manhood, and creditable to the heart,
of every officer present.  As yet  they were not
assured of their permanent release as hostages,
having been informed by  the authorities  that
their  removal from jail was  merely temporary,
and arose from the necessity of cleansing  and
fumigating the  prison-cells.   Subsequent infor-
mation through the Richmond papers of the re-
lease  of the privateers  in the North confirmed
us in  the belief that we should have them with
us until sent, rejoicing ' homeward bound.'
   " On Feb. 5th  the hostages were returned
to the warehouse, their old prison, in order  that
the felon cell in the county prison might be
cleaned; but they never returned  to occupy it. 
io6
In a few days the Richmond papers reproduced
from those of New York the intelligence that the
rebel privateersmen (the  greater part of them,
by the way, were New-York wharf-thieves) had
been released from confinement as pirates, and
turned over to the navy department  as  prison-
ers-of-war.   On  Thursday,  Feb. 20th,  it was
officially announced  that all the prisoners-of-
war would be forwarded to Fortress Monroe on
the following Saturday; and, late in the evening
of that day (Thursday), Gen.  Randolph per-
sonally  and kindly called at the prison  to in-
form Revere that he and his  associate hostages
would go home with  the  other  prisoners.  Ac-
cordingly on Saturday  all military prisoners in
Richmond were embarked on a steamer, and at
seven o'clock,  p.m.,  were steaming  down  the
James River;  and the next morning they once
more came under the Union flag."
                     Richmond, Feb. 18, 1862.
   I have not written of our transfer from the jail to
the warehouse for the reason that we have expect-
ed every hour, for the last ten days, that the officers 
                      107

to be exchanged would receive their orders to  go.
We were transferred from  the jail on Wednesday,
Feb.  5, for a few days,  as we  were informed, to
allow an opportunity for  the  fumigation of that in-
stitution.   We still remain as hostages, though in
the warehouse:  this is official information from the
officer in charge of prisoners.  We  suppose the
intention  of the Confederate States government
to be, to obtain a practical proof of  the  good
faith of our government in  regard to the privateers,
by  obtaining  some of  them in exchange.  One
reason for  this belief is, that,  after  the   list  of
privates was sent to be examined, the names of all
sailors were struck  off; they only to be  exchanged
for Confederate sailors.   As you may suppose, the
move from jail was most  satisfactory.  I was much
disappointed at  Edward's name not being on the
list, as several surgeons  have lately been  paroled
by  our government; but nothing is more certain
than, that no exchange, either for him or any of us,
except man for man, will be effected  ; and we, here,
know from  experience that  exchanges are brought
about by personal  application  backed  by influ-
ence.
                                        P. J. R. 
io8
                          Sunday, Feb 24, 1862.
   I write to you from  on board the steamboat
 bound to Baltimore.   I telegraph to-morrow morn-
 ing.  All the prisoners in Richmond were released
 on parole yesterday, and arrived at  Fort Monroe
 this afternoon.  We are well, and, as you may sup-
 pose, in good spirits.  I received your note at Fort
 Monroe, and cannot tell you the relief of knowing
 that all had gone well with Lu.  I know how great
 a  pleasure it is to her to have a daughter, and I
 share it fully. If all continues well,  I shall proba-
 bly be  at home the last of the week.   We must go
 to Washington at once ; and, as we are not yet ex-
 changed, I cannot judge  how long a  time may be
 occupied in bringing  about an exchange.  We can
 hardly realize our present position ; the change in
 the tone of the Confederate authorities on the cap-
 ture of so many  prisoners  by our forces  having
 been so sudden.  As I wrote you, they begun  to
 soften  on Tuesday last:  they, however, continued
 their personal indignity to  the  last, never  having
 released us from the position of hostages  formally.
 However, it  does  not matter now, and they never
for a moment, with all their  outrages, made one of
 us forget our position as gentlemen.
                                        P. J. R. 
109
  Gladly did they leave their forlorn quarters in
Richmond, turning their faces homeward.
  It was so arranged, that they passed the forts
below the city, along the river, at night, to con-
ceal the preparations for defence.   A sudden
panic of the rebel  government led  to their re-
lease, — a panic quickly allayed ; since, as was
afterwards known, orders were issued for their
detention before they had  left  the city limits.
But it was too late.  They were safely embarked,
and the morning found  them at the fortress ;
while,  as  it proved,  others less fortunate  in
getting  away at once were detained for months.
  On their arrival at this point,  Paul  heard of
the birth of a daughter, — a great relief to  his
anxieties  for  those at home.    He, with  his
brother, arrived  in Boston on the  evening of the
28th of February, 1862.  They were worn and
old-looking, with the strange expression  those
carry who have been in confinement, or under a
great pressure of care, but full of happiness at
their restoration, and greatly blessed in finding
their father had  borne their trial with the'firmest
         10 
no
spirit, sustained as he had been, not a little,  by
a grateful sense of their own fortitude and faith.
The kindness of friends, and the sympathy  of
the public, were pleasant additions to this little
interval of rest among those they loved.   Little
by little their strength was renewed ;  and some-
thing  of the  tone and  manner of former days
returned.  But youth had gone out of them won-
derfully ; and the long excitement of feeling, and
irritation of nerves, was followed by a re-action,
showing itself in silence and listlessness, and
dull lines about the face that were sad to see.
  Two  months of quiet at home, and  of con-
stant  attentions abroad, however, were  soon
over ; and then  their exchange, for which they
grew impatient, was effected.   The general pol-
icy of the Union government, at that time, did
not seemingly encourage exchanges :  they could
only be obtained by  energetic personal effort.
Accordingly,  accompanied  by a brother-officer
(also a paroled prisoner), Major Revere proceed-
ed to Fort Warren, and selected three Confeder-
ate officers of proper rank to exchange for Col. 
Ill
Lee, Major and Dr. Revere.   Col. Lee's appli-
cation  to Sec. Stanton, that the selected offi-
cers might be released  from  Fort Warren, and
permitted to proceed  to Richmond, under a
pledge of honor to return, and report in person
to Col. Dimick, at Fort Warren, within fifteen
days, or send to Gen. Wool, at Fortress Monroe,
an order from the Richmond  government, con-
firming the  conditional exchange, was  granted
by  Mr. Stanton.   The pledge of Col. Baldwin
of Virginia, and his associates, was  honorably
redeemed.   The official exchanges of  the Union
officers were duly transmitted to Gen. Wool;
and  on May 2d, -1862, the three officers of the
Twentieth reported for duty with their regiment,
then in the lines  before Yorktown.   It was a
season of great and new interest.  The first re-
verses  we had met with were  being followed, as
the spring opened, by occasional success. The
gloom  under which the country had groaned was
passing away ; and every one who had a place
on  the field unfilled  was solicitous  not to be
left behind.   " I remember," says a friend, " af- 
112
ter our forces had landed in North Carolina, and
the battle of Newbern had spread joy and hope
at the North, hearing Paul read  the account of
it in the newspaper.   His face lighted up, and
he exclaimed, ' Oh,  I am so glad that the rebs
have learned that they must run before us at
last!  I wish that I had been there to see their
backs!'"
  The army under McClellan had moved down
to the peninsula.  " Our boys," as  we  called
them, were anxious to be in the midst of  those
stirring scenes.   Their orders came — none too
early  for them—to report at the headquarters
of their old command, in the Army of the Poto-
mac.  They hastened back, full of zeal, to share
in the conflict and the glory, quickened by the
reports of the advance upon  Yorktown, and
hoping to be present at the fall of Richmond,
where they had suffered so much.
  The day of their departure was the last day
of April.  It was their father's birthday, at  the
completion of his eighty-fifth year.  They  dined
with him, and rose to leave ; when  he blessed 
H3
them, and gave them strong, encouraging words.
One who was present thus describes the scene :
" It being Mr. Revere's birthday, all his children
had dined with him.  A feeling of sadness, in view
of  Paul's and Edward's departure for the field
that afternoon, hung over all; yet every one was
quiet, and tried to be cheerful.  At the  end of
dinner, as there was a little pause before rising,
Mr. Revere, who had been silent till then, turned
to his sons, and  said,  ' This day I am eighty-
five  years old.  It is a great age,  and it is ex-
traordinary that I have reached it.  I remember
the surrender of Cornwallis.  I heard, one night,
the watchman  cry out  in the street (he was a
German  sort of fellow,  a Dutchman),  " Half-
past three  o'clock of  a cloudy morning, and
Cornwallis taken ! "  There are few now living
who can remember this.  You are going to  the
scene of that surrender at Yorktown.   You will
do your  duty; and you will return (though I
can hardly expect to see you)  all that I could
wish.  God  bless you both !   Pass the wine to
Edward and Paul.   Now drink  with me, my
           IO* 
H4
sons.'   And  having bowed to  each of them,
and raised  his glass in his  old, courtly way, he
added,  ' Pass the  wine  to others.   This  was
merely a matter between  the  boys and me.  I
have  done all that  I shall  do  to-day.'   The
room  was as still as death,  and the whole thing
unspeakably affecting.  I can see Paul's dignified
air, and pale, calm face;  and  Edward, leaning
forward, intently hanging upon  every word his
father said.   They went to do their duty.   And
they returned all that he  could wish, — not for
this world,  but for the other."
  They reached  Yorktown in  time  to aid in
planting the colors  of the  Twentieth Regiment
on the heights, when  the  rebels evacuated that
place. They took an active part in all the battles
of that campaign, and bore their full share of its
memorable trials, suffering the great disappoint-
ment  of a retreat, after having been within sound
of the bells of Richmond, into which  city, con-
sidering all they had lately endured  there, they
so ardently desired to enter victorious.   Refer-
ences to their  gallantry in those fights of the 
n5
seven-days' march to the new base on the James
River will be found  in the notices from different
pens, which appeared after their death.

        Camp opposite  Yorktown, May 5, 1862.
   I have not written since I left Fort  Monroe, as
we have been  very  busy.  We arrived  at  camp
Friday night, a"nd went on picket the next morning,
it  being the t urn of our brigade.  It  was a pretty
long day, although there was a good  deal of firing
both with rifles  and  heavy guns. I could see  the
rebels working their guns  perfectly plainly, with  a
glass.  We were called up about four o'clock Sun-
day morning, by the firing of the outer pickets, and
remained  under arms until  six or seven o'clock,
when we received notice that the  enemy had  left
their forts ; and  we were immediately ordered over
to  take possession, which we  accordingly did ;  the
colonel running  ahead, Dr. Crehore, Hayward, and
I bringing up the rear.  We  found quite formida-
ble earthworks  extending for a  long  distance, with
rifle-pits and occasional forts.  We remained there
about three hours, when we were ordered back to
our old  camp to pack up, and be ready to start.
We waited all day, with a great deal of impatience, 
u6
until dark ;  when we gave up, and made ourselves
as comfortable as possible with our india-rubber
cloths and  a fire.  This  morning we were waked
up by the rain dripping through our shelter.   We
were ordered to march at seven o'clock  for York-
town, and  are now in camp about three-quarters
of a mile from there ; it was in plain sight as we
marched into the  field where we are in camp ;  and
we can see  the masts of the vessels in York River
from the next field.
   We are  in the reserve now, and do  not know
when we shall start  again, but probably immedi-
ately.  On  our way up, we reported at Gen. McClel-
lan's  headquarters,  but did not see  him.   We
then went on to report to Gen. Sumner, in whose
corps we are.   We  remain  in  Dana's Brigade.
We  saw him, also Gen.  Sedgwick of our division,
at Gen. Sumner's headquarters.  You can form no
idea of the  excitement of the  time, the  number of
troops constantly passing; there has been a con-
stant stream pouring in from every road since early
this morning, and probably all day yesterday.   Our
particular baggage-train is stuck somewhere in  the
mud ; but we have got our blankets along with  us,
and shall get on  well enough.   We can  hear artil- 
ii7
lery in front constantly, not a min ute passing with-
out a report, and sometimes a continuous roar.  I
have not been able to get a horse yet, but shall the
first opportunity.
                                  E. H. R. R.

                            Thursday, May 8.
   We started Monday morning at seven.   It had
rained all night, and continued to rain all day.  The
mud was inexpressible.  We reached Yorktown in
a  few hours.   We were  ordered to  march just
before dark, but remained in the rain and mud all
night, and embarked at Yorktown, Tuesday, at four
in the afternoon.
   We had a very comfortable time up York River;
had state-rooms  and mattresses, and disembarked
next morning at six o'clock with all the troops, and
now remain  at or near West Point.  You must be
very careful  not to communicate any thing that can
be construed as military information.   There was
some  skirmishing in the advance of our division ;
but, as we belong to the reserve, we saw nothing of
it.  Every thing has been  quiet since.   I am very
well indeed, and have  not felt  the  fatigue  in the
least;  though we  have had a pretty hard time for
the last four days.  We came down from Baltimore 
n8
 with Brig.-Gen. Patterson, who obtained transpor-
 tation to the front from near Ship Point, where we
 landed from Fort Monroe, and shared it with us :
 so  we came  on without  delay.  It seems strange
 to  realize  that we  are within thirty miles of our
 winter-quarters,  and under such different  circum-
 stances.  I know that you were not disappointed
 to  hear of the evacuation  of Yorktown.  I have
 written  a most rambling letter; but  the  change
 from quiet to bustle is so complete  and sudden  as
 to  make it difficult to remember  any thing con-
 nectedly.
                                       P. J.  R.
                              Sunday, May 11.
   I wrote to you  on the 8th from West Point.
 Next  day  we marched  about two  miles, and
 encamped, where we are now.  We have  had a
 pretty hard time, owing, in a great  extent,  to want
 of  food. ^ The whole army having been  pushed
 forward at once, it has been impossible to get up
 the supply-trains.  I think I never eat less in a
 week, when well, than in  the  last  seven days, not
 excepting my experience last winter. The supplies
arrived this morning.  I had a good breakfast, and
feel as good  as  new.  We  are having splendid 
u9
weather.  The country is just as with us in June.
We have  gotten beyond the low, swampy ground
of the peninsula, into a fine, rolling, dry country.
The army treads down vegetation in its immediate
vicinity pretty thoroughly, when encamped; though,
as we march, every thing looks finely.  We march
through  very  large  fields,  often  many hundred
acres, separated by wooded districts.  In the fields,
grain and  clover are just springing up, giving a
fresh appearance to the whole surface.  I only dis-
covered when I began to write that to-day is Sun-
day, — a very different scene  from that with you. I
am writing during   church-time at  home;   and,
though our regiment  is quiet  to-day, the sights and
sounds  are not very suggestive of Sunday.
   Our  stay at Yorktown was  quite  interesting;
the old lines of attack during the Revolution being
still  very  distinct.   We found  Gen.  Sumner's
headquarters under  some old apple-trees,  where
stood the house in which  Gen. Washington's head-
quarters were.
   We arrived  at the regiment just at dark.   They
had  no  idea of our  arrival.   As we brought  the
news of  our exchange, the officers were as much de-
lighted as men could be.  They had become dis- 
120
couraged,  hearing  that the colonel  would not be
exchanged.  The  regiment is in fine spirits now,
though small.
                                       P.  J. R.

        Camp Two Miles West of Cumberland,
                        May 19, 1862.
  We left our camp in the  woods  yesterday, and
marched here, — about three  miles. • Dr. Crehore
and I, being detained at the camp after the regiment
left, took a little excursion around  the country be-
fore we found it, going two or three miles out of our
way.  I have not been able to  get a  horse, but
enjoyed the walk very much, although the day was
very warm.  We have a nice ground  here, high and
dry.   It has rained all day ; but our tents have been
dry, as the  water drains off well.   I suppose that
we shall march again to-morrow, if not to-night, as
some of the divisions left  this morning.   I went up
to the general's headquarters  last  night at sun-
down ; and a more beautiful view I never saw.  The
trees are out in leaf, and  the tops could be seen
rising in the distance out through the  mist which
comes from all the valleys, looking almost as if they
arose from an ocean; and  in the  foreground the
troops — some fifteen thousand — going through 
121
their evening parade, and beyond  them the masts
of the  vessels,  and an occasional  glimpse  of the
river, with a steamboat passing up.
                                   E. H. R. R.

                                     May 22.
   We marched, Wednesday, some ten miles ;  and
are now fourteen miles from Richmond, the advance
being much nearer.
                                       P. J. R.

                             Monday, June 2.
   Saturday afternoon, hearing considerable firing,
our division was ordered to move.   We crossed the
Chickahominy,  and advanced about three miles, and
engaged the enemy at a place called  Fair Oaks.
The regiment behaved admirably.   We completely
routed the enemy, driving  him from  the field, on
which we slept.  We have lost from fifteen to twenty
men, not more than six killed ; no officer wounded.
Sunday morning the enemy attacked in great force,
but was  repulsed with great loss.   The fighting was
very severe, and lasted several hours.  We were not
in the  heaviest, and lost but two  men.  We slept
again on the field, expecting the attack to be renewed
-this morning;  but, during the night, the enemy, 
122
having had enough, retired.   I must devote a few
hours to sleep.  I am well, as is Edward and the
colonel.  Peirson wrote night before last, and Pal-
frey telegraphed.
  y    °                              P. J.  R.
                  Camp at Fair Oaks, June 2.
  Saturday we  crossed the river, and in about two
miles came  up  to the battle-field.   Our regiment
was immediately deployed ; and Dr. Crehore and I
prepared to take care of the wounded, who were
coming in fast from the regiments  engaged.   Dr.
Crehore and I went to the hospital, and did all we
could, until I got word from  the  colonel to come
down to the camp, as he had a lot of prisoners badly
wounded.   I went down and attended to them, and
returned  to the hospital, where  I remained  until
daylight, there being a constant stream of wounded ;
and, although there were fifteen or twenty surgeons,
they  could not begin to  dress  one-half  of the
wounds.   Yesterday  the  fighting  recommenced
about seven, and lasted, with  more or less violence,
all day ; but the enemy were driven on all quarters,
although they fought desperately, and renewed the
attack again and again.  Our regiment was not im-
mediately engaged, but in support of the batteries. 
123
We remained under arms all night; but this morn-
ing the enemy had gone.   We could  hear  them
talking, and giving orders, all night; and the trains
coming and going,  we  supposed bringing up re-
enforcements.  The woods, for a circuit of two miles,
are filled with dead and wounded, who  are being
constantly brought in.
                                    E. H. R. R.

                            Thursday, June 5.
   It has rained for the last  twenty-six hours  con-
stantly.   We remain at  Fair Oaks as when I last
wrote.  It would be difficult to imagine one's self
on  a  campaign  less accompanied by luxury  than
this.   We moved from our camp last  Saturday at
short notice ;  since" which, as all  transportation
must at first  be devoted to ammunition, we have
seen nothing  of our effects but such as were  with
us.   I had obtained  a  pack-horse  that day, and
brought along some cooking-utensils : so we have
been able to cook whatever food we had.
                                      P.  J. R.

                      Camp Fair Oaks, June 8.
   Last Tuesday I was detailed from  the regiment
to see to the furnishing  of the wounded with  pro- 
124
visions, and  to the cooking for them ; also to get
them on board the cars.  I was relieved yesterday;
and it really seemed like getting  home to be with
the regiment again, as the work has been pretty
hard, and I have been in a state bordering on starva-
tion, as well as without sleep most of the time. The
first time (from Saturday) I laid  down to get any
rest, was Friday.  Saturday and  Sunday nights I
slept all the time, and to-day  feel as well as ever.
When we started from our last camp, we had made
but little preparation  for feeding ourselves ; and,
When I left the regiment, I took nothing with me ;
and it was impossible to get anything to eat, except-
ing hard crackers and ship-bread, for the men whom
I had hard at work all the time.  Dr. Crehore wrote
yesterday that I returned  not feeling well; but it
was an entire mistake, as I was  merely exhausted
from  Over-work.   To-day we have been engaged
fitting up our hospital knapsacks, and  are ready for
another engagement.
                                    E. H. R. R.

                                 June 9,  1862.
    Ever since  our advance  of  and the battles of
 Saturday, May 31, and Sunday,  June 1, we  have
 been constantly under arms, night and  day.  The 
                      125

tremendous rains have prevented the coming-up of
men and munitions.   It has been necessary for the
troops immediately opposed  to the enemy to  be
constantly  on  the alert.   Yesterday a  general
change in position strengthened our lines ; and, for
the first  time, I slept all  night.  The  hard work
agrees with me wonderfully :  as one of the officers
said yesterday, I am growing  fat  on it.   We are
directly on the railroad : the cars run regularly ; so
that we have enough to eat at present.  It is amus-
ing to us to see the newspaper accounts of the bat-
tles ; but the official reports will, sooner or later, state
the facts  as they exist.  Gen. Sedgwick's division is
but little  mentioned ;  though it is well understood
in the army that their arrival  on Saturday saved
the day.  We were immediately opposed to South-
Carolina, Georgia, and other  of their best  troops.
The Gen. Pettigrew stated to have been captured
by the New-York  Sixty-ninth  was wounded in front
of our regiment, brought  in  by our men, and his
wound attended to by Edward.  He remained  in
our hands all night.   Only two regiments  of our
brigade, the Twentieth and the  Michigan  Seventh,
were in the battle.
                                        P. J.  R. 
126
                         Fair Oaks, June n.
  We still remain at the same camp ;  and although
there  have  been plenty of shell  flying, and some
very near, no one on our side has been  hit.   Our
regiment occupies some earthworks by the side of
the railroad, thrown up within the last  few days.
The weather has been  terrible ever since we have
been here, wet, and the nights as cold as we have
at home the last of September or first of October.
No one  would  recognize the country about  here
who had not seen it for a week,  the woods are so
cut down ;  and where, when we first came, it was
almost an unbroken forest, there is now hardly a
tree to be seen.   They are not only cut down, but
burned up for fires, used in  cooking, and warming
the men.  We saw two regiments march out  with
axes; and, when they commenced cutting, it was the
most astonishing sight I ever saw, the woods  fall-
ing like grass before the scythe, in regular order, as
they marched on.  I watched them through a glass
for a  long  time.  Dr.  Crehore and I never leave
the camp, not knowing what may happen  at any
moment.
                                   E. H. R. R. 
127
                         Friday, June 13, 1862.
   We all continue very well; though both officers
and men of our regiment are, or rather were, thor-
oughly tired.   We were kept in the front from the
time that we came up until Wednesday in the after-
noon, — twelve days ; every moment of which time
we were under arms.  It was a pretty hard session
certainly; but, as we got through  it without any
serious permanent ill effects, it has been a valuable
experience.  It was really wonderful to observe
the spirit of  the men during  the whole  time.
Though  in immediate  contact with the men, I did
not hear one  word  of complaint, but, on  the con-
trary, a  constantly-expressed readiness to  meet the
enemy.   As I have already said, we were relieved
from our position in  the front Wednesday, and
marched back to  the second line, as we belong to
the reserve.   It was the sudden emergency that oc-
casioned our corps  to be sent to the front.   The
enemy took advantage of the tremendous rain-storm
to attack that portion  of the army which  had
crossed  the   Chickahominy,  in hopes  that  the
freshet would  prevent  the rest of the  army from
crossing before  those  already  over were beaten
by superior numbers; and, but for the foresight of 
128
Gen. Sumner, they would probably have succeeded.
Gen. Sumner had caused to be built  an entirely
new bridge, of which the enemy were probably un-
aware, and on which he crossed,  arriving just  in
time to drive back the enemy's left wing, composed
of  their  best troops,  including  the  " Hampton
Legion,"  their crack corps, to which  Gen. Petti-
grew belonged.
   I have just been interrupted by notice for the
regiment  to be formed, in expectation  of a visit
from Gen. McClellan.   He came on  the field on
Sunday after the  firing was over, and,  as you may
suppose,  was most enthusiastically received.
                                       P. J. R.

                       Camp Lincoln, June 18.
  The " let-up " from duty at the  front for the last
week  has induced such a  state of laziness, that I
have put off  writing.   We had a pretty tiresome
ten days after the battles of Saturday and Sunday ;
and I  have improved the opportunity of a comfort-
able bed to pass a good  many hours in reading
newspapers and general loafing.   I find the can-
vas sacking  a most  excellent institution:  four
crotchets driven into the ground, with  length-poles 
129
between them, on which the canvas is stretched,
gives just  spring enough to be very comfortable.
Joe  Revere is encamped with  his  regiment  just
across the railroad from us, not more than half a
mile.  He  came over a few days  since to see us;
and  I went  to see him  day  before  yesterday,
though I did not find him in camp.  His regiment
is very much  reduced  by their loss  at Williams-
burg and by sickness.  The account of the battles
in " The New-York Herald" of June  12 which was
sent to me is very correct; at least, of the Saturday's
battle.  On the night of the recent eclipse, there
was an alarm from the pickets.   We had all turned
in with the moon full, and the sky  without a cloud;
and, when  the alarm called us out, there was the
sky as clear as ever, but " nary moon."  As no one
had heard of the  phenomenon, we began  to think
that  the enemy had contrived some dodge for the
concealment of their designs, the eclipse happening
to be total.
                                       P. J. R.
                       Camp Lincoln, June 26.
  Knowing how anxious you must be, owing to the
accounts of the fight of  yesterday which will be fly-
ing about, and  supposing, of course, as we were not 
130
engaged, that the newspapers will have it that we
are all killed or wounded, I thought that I would
write  you a  few lines,  although the  colonel  is
writing.  There was a general advance made of the
whole left of the line yesterday, and the enemy
were driven  back a mile and a half.  The firing  of
musketry was as heavy as any I almost ever heard ;
and, although the enemy fought well, they were
whipped at every point.  Joe Revere was engaged ;
and, owing to the losses which his regiment met with
at Williamsburg and here, it is reduced to two hun-
dred and thirty men.  He has only one captain left;
the rest either killed or wounded, two being killed
yesterday.  Paul is dining with Joe to-day, his duty
calling him  to the neighborhood of his camp.   I
have entirely gotten over the diarrhoea, and feel  as
well as ever.  The Nineteenth and the First Mas-
sachusetts were a good deal cut up ; the Nineteenth
losing  about  forty men;  the  first five  officers
wounded, and  I do not know how many killed be-
sides.  We remain in the same camp, and begin to
feel afraid that they will  leave us behind to guard
the depot, even if an advance is made.  I received
a nice letter  from  John to-day, and am looking for-
ward  for  one  from you to-morrow.  You do not 
i3i
know how much pleasure  every one gives me, and
how nice it is to hear every little incident from
home.  All our days  run  into one another, as we
never  take  our clothes  off  except to wash and
change them; and  there is  hardly a night  passes
without from one to four alarms, and all the men
got under arms, the order being to fall in if there is
any continued firing in front.
                                   E.  H. R. R.

                         Friday, June 27, 1862.
  . I did not write to you  yesterday as I intended,
being  all day  in command  of a working-party at
the intrenchments.  I found  the place  quite near
Joe Revere's camp, and took dinner with him. We
still remain in the  rear, protecting certain  bread-
boxes, &c.  There has been  a  movement and an
engagement on the  extreme right of our lines on
the other side of the Chickahominy, Porter's divis-
ion ; and the  enemy  have been most  essentially
thrashed. •  All these  movements  are  probably
strategic, and part of the steady advance, or rather
enclosing  of  our lines, which,  under Providence,
will result, as heretofore, in driving back the enemy.
One  more retreat like those at Manassas, York- 
132
town, and Corinth, must result in their demoraliza-
tion, which, as I have always thought, has been the
consistent plan of Gen. McClellan, rather than by
tremendous attacks with his whole army, occasion-
ing great loss of life, and risking defeat to annihi-
late the  enemy.   The weather continues  very
pleasant  We have had a cool, strong breeze every
day ;  and at night I have slept under two blankets.
                                     P. J.  R.

                      Saturday, June, 28, 1862.
   To-day we are awaiting the result of an engage-
ment on our right,  Porter's division.   It is thought
probable we may open communications with James
River.  I dare  say the papers will be full of dis-
astrous news, should this army move"; but the  facts
are, that the army is in as good condition as it ever
has been, full of confidence, and, should it become
necessary to move to the left  of James  River, will
still present  a  determined front to the enemy.
Unless something much more important than has
yet occurred happens, all will go well.
                                       P. J. R. 
133
             Opposite City Point, July i, 1862.
   After  two days' hard fighting,  through God's
mercy, Paul, the colonel, and  myself are left with-
out injury.   Four of  our officers  are wounded :
Lieut. Abbott, the arm slightly ; Patten, leg below
the knee slightly ;  Muller, foot slightly ;  Lowell, in
bowels, probably mortally.  It has been for the last
few days very hard work, as we have  been out-
numbered ;  but our  men  have done  their  duty
nobly, as we  have been able  in every instance to
drive the enemy, and quiet  him  for a sufficient
length of time for us to retire.  The last two nights
we have marched  all  night, and the night before
we were on picket.
                                   E.  H. R.  R.

                                  July i, 1862.
   I  write  from the  immediate neighborhood of
James River; to which place  the army has moved)
and where  it now lies under cover of the gunboats.
We have had tremendous fighting.   All the officers
of our regiment, with the following  exceptions, are
uninjured: Lieut  Patten  slightly,  Lieut Abbott
slightly, Lieut. Lowell mortally.  Lieut Muller not
come in, thought to be wounded in foot  There is
            12 
134
no hope for Lowell.  The above, although a general
statement, must be taken as exact.
                                      P. J. R.


      Harrison's  Landing, James River, July 6.
   Saturday afternoon, June 28, I was sent, in com-
mand of a hundred and fifty men of our regiment,
to convey some car-loads of ammunition down the
railroad to Savage's Station, about  two miles  or
more to our rear :  this occupied until about twelve
o'clock at  night  The next  day Sedgwick's di-
vision made  their appearance, moving down the
railroad.  They took up position with a  part of
Richardson's division in the rear of a  large plain,
through which the  railroad runs : the rest of the
army had passed.   About  four o'clock  the enemy
appeared  on our right and front.  Two or three
brigades were immediately thrown  forward to the
ed°-e of the woods, beyond the plain, to meet them.
Their artillery opened upon our batteries, in support
of which we were. We lost four men wounded.  The
action soon became general in front; and we were
ordered forward  to support a  part of the line which
seemed shaky. The result of the engagement was
 a complete  repulse  of the enemy.   Immediately 
135
after dark all the troops were  put in  motion, and
marched all night, crossing White-oak Swamp.  At
daylight  we halted  for  two hours ; then marched
about  two miles to  Nelson's Farm, where  we
halted for some hours.  About two o'clock the ene-
my attacked ;  and,  until after dark, a tremendous
battle was fought, resulting, as that of Sunday, in
the repulse of the enemy, with  great loss of life on
both sides.  As you will have heard, our regiment
suffered severely.  Poor Lowell fell in the advance
across a field : he fell close to me ; and, as I passed
him, he raised himself on his arm, and, waving his
sword, shouted to his men to go forward.  Most of
the officers who were wounded received but slight
wounds.
  Col. Lee was knocked down by a wounded horse,
and disabled :  he was in command of our brigade,
and directed me to act as his aide.  After our first
advance, and the driving back of the enemy,  the
Twentieth continued to advance until they were in
danger of being surrounded by the enemy ; when
Col. Lee  sent me to bring up the  rest of the bri-
gade. This, of course, separated me from the regi-
ment ;  and as they were forced to  fall back before
the other regiments came up, or rather as the other 
136
regiments did not get up, I  did  not rejoin  them
until after dark.  I was  entirely uninjured, though
I lost two horses. My own horse was shot in cross-
ing the first field.  I found another in the woods in
front; which was soon after wounded, but carried
me nearly an hour.   As soon  as  possible, we got
our regiment together with the  other regiments of
the brigade,  and commenced another night-march.
We marched all night, and found ourselves at day-
light on another large field, on high rolling ground.
During  the  next few hours, jthe rest of the  army
came marching in in good  order.  Artillery and
cavalry all right.  All the wagon-trains had passed
the day  before.  About nine to  ten o'clock the ene-
my appeared; and immediately the whole army was
drawn out, and the prospect of  a great battle in an
open space was before us.  The engagement opened
with artillery-firing, which  continued for some two
hours ;  when the enemy apparently concluded that
it  was  not  an  advisable  opportunity to make a
general  attack, and moved toward  our  left.  Here,
towards  night,  severe  fighting occurred between
Hooker and Kearney's  divisions  and the enemy,
who was finally driven back with loss.  This part of
the line was under the fire of the gunboats,  distant 
137
about one  mile.  In  the  evening we were  again
silently put  in march about  eleven  o'clock :  the
whole army marched, as before, silently  down  the
river.  It was long after daylight before the rear
was fairly in march ;  but the enemy did not attack,
showing they must have been driven well back on
the preceding night   About ten to eleven, a.m.,
began one of the tremendous rains peculiar to this
part of the country, producing a condition of mud,
worse, if it is possible, than any thing we have  yet
seen. We still had a march of several miles before
us ;  and as the regiments were  marched in  two
columns, in the  same road, they became  much
mixed up.  We arrived at the James River in  the
afternoon at a  place called Harrison's Landing, —
a most excellent specimen of the  old James-river
plantations, and one I remember  to  have noticed
on  our  passage down last winter.   A large,  old-
fashioned brick house, though furnished with mod-
ern furniture, stands overlooking the river, with  old
trees in front, and immense  unenclosed fields of
many hundred acres extending some half-mile  be-
hind it, and down the  river as far  as  one can  see.
On this plain the  army immediately bivouacked by
divisions.  When we  marched on  to it, it was  one
            12* 
.  138
great  wheat-field, yellow  with  ripened  grain, and
looking most beautifully : the next day it was an
immense mud-puddle ;  not  a  stalk of grain stand-
ing, and none had  been cut.  The place was very
uncomfortable for the men ; and  on  July  4 we
were marched back about three-quarters of a mile,
and are now encamped on  a large quick-running
brook, a most excellent place, and where the men
are fast recovering from their fatigue.  The oppor-
tunity for bathing is invaluable.
   I have endeavored to give you a general idea  of
our movements for the last week, into which has
been  crowded so much  of real  war.   I am very
well, as is Edward.  Col.  Lee  has gone to Fortress
Monroe.   " The  Philadelphia  Inquirer " of July 5
contains a very correct account of the movements
of the army during the past week, with due allow-
ance for exaggerated language.
                                       P. J. R.
                                     July 7.
   I did not finish my letter yesterday.  This is a
beautiful morning, though the  day is likely to prove
warm.  Thus far, there has been little or no suffer-
ing from heat  Of course  it  is  very warm in the
sun ;  but no day as yet without a good breeze, and 
139
 always cool at night.  I am  more surprised at the
 absence of musquitoes than at any thing else : I had
 expected to be devoured by them.  You need have
 no anxiety for the position of the army here : it is
 very strong, and protected by the  gunboats.  No
 one  here knows  any thing  of our future move-
 ments ; but  every one  believes  all  will  go well
 sooner or later.  The late experience of the army,
 with the great loss of life and accompanying suffer-
 ing, seems to have been necessary to convince the
 country of the wretched  folly of interference  with
 military movements on  the part  of politicians.   I
 continue  very well, and quite recovered from the
 fatigues of last week.  We have much cause, my
 dear wife, for renewed thankfulness  for being car-
 ried through all these trials ;  as I also feel  for the
 well-being of all  at home every time I receive  a
 letter.
                                        P. J. R.
             Camp near James  River, July 13.
   We still remain at the same camp ; and  it seems
 as if  we should for some time :  and every one
seems  to be settling down for a regular life ;  that is,
making themselves  as  comfortable as possible.
We suffered a good deal from the heat the first 
140
part of last week ; but yesterday and  to-day have
been quite cool:  in fact, I awoke last night really
suffering from cold, as I had-not  put the blankets
over me, although I had my clothes on.  We are
now indulging in the luxury  of fresh  onions, but
have lived for the last three weeks in about as un-
comfortable a manner as can be imagined, not hav-
ing  been  able to  procure any thing but what the
commissary had in his stock, and that in very small
quantities, as the provisions had not been delivered
here, and we were cut off from our supplies at White
House.  I am feeling  very well now ; I think, fully
as well as at any time  since I rejoined the army.
                                   E. H. R. R.

                        Sunday, July 13,  1862.
   Since our arrival at James River, it has been to
us a time of almost unbroken  quiet, the more
noticeable from the contrast with our position be-
fore we  moved in this direction.  There, hardly an
hour passed without  firing  of some kind : here,
particularly at night, it is almost impossible  to real-
ize that one is surrounded by so many thousands of
men.  I have not felt up to much work for  several
days, and  have been keeping  quiet: nothing par- 
Hi
ticular the matter, but generally done  up.  Don't
imagine all kinds of illness incident to  a  South-
ern climate, &c.  The same experience anywhere
would have produced the same result.
                                       P. J. R.

                        Sunday, July  20, 1862.
   I was not well last week, but am quite well again
now.   I was  tired out, I suppose, but  chiefly  suf-
fered from the severe fall received two days before
we arrived here.  I had, while feeling poorly, last
week, an  attack of neuralgia  for three days in the
side of my face, taking advantage of me, — of those
teeth which I did not have attended  to when I  was
at home.
                                       P. J. R.

                Camp near Harrison's  Landing,
                          July  22,  1862.
   I  have not written for several days, as  I have
been pretty busy, and have had a touch of neural-
gia in my  face.   I think that I  should have had the
teeth which ached out, if I had  had any instruments
when the pain commenced ; but was very glad after-
wards  that I did not, as the  pain left, after a few
days using quinine, as suddenly as  it came.  Paul 
142
 had a touch of it the week before, and was  really
 miserable for a  few  days, but  is now as well as
 ever.   I think, with both of us,  it was the re-action
 after the over-work which we had been having for
 the last few weeks.  This camp,  I think, is the
 healthiest we have  been in  since we  came  on to
 the Peninsula; and  the men are gaining both in
 health and strength.  There  is a grand  review of
 this whole army corps (I mean Sumner's) to-day ;
 and I am  left in  camp in charge of hospitals, and
 in case  of accidents.  Paul and I are in  the same
 mess, and, the last few days, have occupied the same
 tent;  he having had my sacking swung in his, as
 it was more  comfortable than  mine, having  a fly
 over it which kept off the sun, and better than the
 cooper's shop where we all eat, and take  our after-
 noon  nap, where there  is always a great deal of
 noise, laughing and talking; and, when  I had the
 pain in my face, it was not a little irritating.  This
 cooper's shop is merely a barn  half full  of staves,
 which we  have used  as  flooring, and is  intensely
 dirty ; but we have torn off the boards about three
feet from the  ground, which makes a good draught
 through, and, owing to its having a wooden roof, is
 the most cool and comfortable place in the brigade, 
143
if not in the division, especially as we use the cool
canvas stretchers for couches.   The  weather has
been very hot most of the time ; but then we have
had a good air in moving, which has been a great
relief.
   There  was a little lieutenant, named Kenney,
who was a prisoner with us, who was wounded in
the stomach, and died the next day.  He was about
eighteen, and perfectly resigned to his fate, although
suffering terribly.  Paul has written to his mother
and sister in Philadelphia.  He was in Markoe's
regiment, and distinguished himself in every battle.
He was a very religious person, and, all the time at
Richmond,  read his Bible  and prayer-book every
day.
                                    E. H. R. R.
                         Sunday, July 27, 1862.
    I have quite recovered from my indisposition of
 a week ago. The fall, to which I  ascribed  it, was
 when the horse, which I picked up  at Nelson's
 Farm, went  down.   I  did not receive any bruise :
 it was the jar  of falling that  affected me; and it
 only showed itself when the re-action from  fatigue
 occurred some days after.   All effect of it is gone,
 and I am as well as ever.  We are having the most 
144
entirely lazy time you can  imagine ; literally doing
nothing.  There is a good  deal of sickness among
the men still, but referable  to their condition before
arriving here, and the lack of a sufficient supply of
vegetables.  I have received  from Gen. Sumner a
most flattering offer of a place on his staff, perhaps
the most  important on it;  and,  should  certain
changes be completed which  are now  in progress
as to his command, a place of much greater respon-
sibility than the command of a regiment.  The time
is fast approaching when men in the army are to be
measured by their capacity and willingness  for ser-
vice ; and those found deficient will  have to go to
the wall.   It will prove to  have been any thing but
fortunate for those who have  been placed in posi-
tions of which they are not masters.  As to myself,
whatever  may  fail to  be accomplished  for me
through our State government, I  have  no doubt of
obtaining, should my life be spared, whatever  posi-
tion I am capable of filling.
                                        P.  J. R.

          Headquarters,  Second Corps d'Armee,
                           July 24, 1862.
   Dear  Major, — Would you like  the appoint-
ment of inspector-general on my  staff, with the 
145
rank of lieutenant-colonel ?   If it would suit you, I
should like to have you take it   The duty will  be
to make frequent inspections of the troops, and  to
superintend the execution of all orders, and to  in-
form  me at once whenever they are  disobeyed  or
neglected.        Very truly yours,
                           E. V.'Sumner,
                     Brevet Major-Gen. U. S. A.
 Major P. J. Revere.

                                   July 25, 1862.
 Major Gen. E. V.  Sumner.
    Dear General,— I have  taken the  liberty of
 considering one night your most flattering proposi-
 tion of the appointment  on your staff, and for  the
 reason  that I find myself in a somewhat peculiar
 position, which I desire to state frankly to you.
 My friends  in Massachusetts, at my request,  are
 making strong efforts to  obtain for me the com-
 mand of one of the new regiments.  For an  in-
 dorsement of Gen.  Dana's recommendation  for
 such a command I am indebted to yourself; and I
 think you will agree with me, that a due  considera-
 tion for my friends should  prevent  my acceptance
 of any position, however flattering to me, or con-
 genial  with my feelings,  pending the result of their
             13 
146
efforts.   How soon  that result  may appear, of
course depends on the general success of recruit-
ing.   Once more expressing my appreciation of the
flattering nature of your offer, and my deep sense
of your uniform kindness to  and consideration of
myself,
       I remain your most obedient servant,
                                       P. J. R.

        Camp near James River, Aug. 10, 1862.
   Major, — I am directed  by the  major-general
commanding the corps to notify you that he has
designated you  as  the inspector-general of his
corps  d'armee.   Allow me  to  express  to  you,
major, my congratulations, and my  hope  that you
will soon be able to join us.
     Very respectfully your obedient servant,
                          J.  H. Taylor,
                 Chief of Staff, Q., and A. A. G.

                 Wednesday Evening, Aug, 6.
   I write you a few lines to-night, thinking  that
you might see by the papers  that our division had
moved.
   On Monday we were ordered to march at six, p.m. 
147
We marched all night; and, about six o'clock in the
morning, came out on the battle-field at Nelson's
Farm.   From here we marched by the same road
as before to Malvern Hill, where the last  of the
battles was fought.  The enemy was in small force,
and retired rapidly.  There was some cavalry skir-
mishes ;  and we took a hundred and fifty prisoners
and some artillery.  We  halted  at Malvern in  a
great  field,  in  front of a large brick  house, all
pretty tired.  I had not been very well  for a few
days,  and  had consequently eaten very little ; so
was pretty well used up with this excursion. The
sun was very hot; and I  went up to the house to
get in  the shade.   While there,  Gen.  McClellan
and Gen. Sumner arrived.  Gen. Sumner was not
very well.  He came where I was  in  the porch of
the  house, looking for a place to  lie   down.   I
gave him my coat, and  he laid down.  Soon after
he went away, I went to get  my  coat, and re-
mained in the same place.  I said to Capt Sedg-
wick I was not well, and, if he were in  the way of
sending any officer to  camp with orders, to send
me. Judge of my amazement, when, in about three
minutes,  I found myself  confronted  by Gen.
McClellan, who informed me that he had  ordered 
148
a wagon, which would arrive presently, to convey
me  to camp.   I endeavored to remonstrate.  He
told  me it was his  order, and  that I need  say
nothing to the contrary ;  that I should be ill  if I
tried to stay ; and go  I must Of course I could do
nothing but thank him for his kindness, and go. It
seemed  that Sedgwick was saying something to
one of Gen. McClellan's staff about me ; when the
general,  hearing my name, asked what was  the
matter, and, on being told, did as I have described.
It certainly was very kind ; was it not ?  His  man
ner could not have  been more  considerate  had I
been an  intimate  personal friend.  I mounted a
very comfortable covered wagon, and trotted back
to camp.
                                     P. J. R.

  The exhausting service told upon Paul.  The
malaria under which so many sank  rendered
him at length, unfit  for duty;  and, after  the
battle of Malvern  Hill, Gen. Sumner ordered
him home on sick leave, giving him  a furlough
of fifteen days.  It was  none  too early for  him
to make the change.  He was carried on board
the  steamer  in waiting by his brother,  and 
149
had not strength during the passage to leave the
deck.  The sea-breezes and rest, however, re-
vived him;  and he arrived at home in  Canton
about the 18 th of August, in a fair way to be
benefited by the pure  country  air, good food,
kind nursing, and repose.  In ten days, though
far from  well,  he was on the road back to his
post.   He returned to his place on Gen. Sum-
ner's  staff, which he had now been able fully to
accept.   The army had left its position on the
James River, and was retracing its steps to the
Potomac.

                  Steamer Atlantic,  Aug. 27.
   Dear Paul, — We went aboard this  steamer
night  before last at Newport News, after quite  a
long and hard march from Harrison's  Landing.
The march was much the hardest  of any thing I
have seen : for,  although we did not make any great
distance,  the men, when moving, were hurried along
tremendously ; and the artillery, infantry, and bag-
gage-trains, were all moving at the same time ; and
the dust was  almost insupportable, it being so
thick  that you could not see the  men three ranks
            13* 
150
ahead of you.  I have been  perfectly well on the
march, and have not had the  slightest touch of
diarrhoea, which  has troubled  almost  every  one
else.  We have not the remotest idea of where we
are bound to, but probably to  Acquia Creek : at
any rate, we are on our way up the Potomac, and
have not been aground but once, and then only for
a few minutes.  I was very glad to hear that you
felt so much better, as I could not help feeling
quite anxious about you.
   We arrived at Alexandria Thursday, 28th, at ten
o'clock, all well and safe.
                                  E. H. R. R.

   Gen.  McClellan had been  removed  from
command, and Gen. Pope set  over the Army of
the  Potomac.   The Second  Bull-run  battle,
disastrous to  the   Union   side, again altered
the aspect of affairs.   Our troops in retreat,
the rebels coming up the valley in force, Wash-
ington  threatened  once  more, — it  was   a
moment for serious apprehension, when  confi-
dence needed  to be at once restored.  McClel-
lan was reinstated, and received with acclama- 
i5i
tions  by the army, that followed  him in fine
spirits over into Maryland to confront Lee, who
had crossed the river several  miles  above the
city.
  Paul  reached Washington  on  the  ist  of
September,  and there learned that  his  corps
was in  the neighborhood of Centreville.   He
writes home, Sept.  2d, " I cannot be  too thank-
ful for my visit at home.   Every thing was  so
bright and cheerful! and its being so unexpected
made it the more satisfactory.   It  was worth
being a little sick for.   I should never have had
any impression of  our dear little girl as a  baby
but for my visit just at that time.  I have just
met one of Gen. Sumner's staff, who  has  given
us  a  wagon,  in  which  we  are  going   out."
Again, on the 4th,  he writes, " Hearing that the
corps was moving, I rode on, and came up with
Gen. Sumner at Tenallytown (if I spell it right),
where we now are.   We  are in a most charming
spot,  on the lawn of  a well-kept place,  with
nice grass  and shade-trees on very  high  land
overlooking the country  around  Washington. 
152
Gen. Sumner  received me very kindly, making
me  feel at home  at once.   I am writing  in
Washington, where  I have  ridden with Gen.
Sumner to-day.  It is but a few miles' ride.   It
seems strange to be in Maryland again  after  so
long a time of campaigning.   But every one
feels that all will go well since  Gen. McClellan
is to be in command.  The enthusiasm in the
army yesterday, on  hearing  of this, was un-
bounded.  Tired  as the men were, they fairly
howled; and,  in  the hospitals, the wounded
raised a cheer as well as they could."
  The ioth of September, his birthday, the fol-
lowing letter was written : —

                              Sept. io, 1862.
  My  dearest Lu, —I cannot  allow my birth-
day to pass  without  writing you a word ; though I
have not found time to write you through the day.
I wrote to you from our camp  near  Rockville  on
Sunday.  Yesterday we marched  about five miles,
and  to-day  some three more.   I was sent some
miles to another part of the line after we halted: so
my day was quite used up.  How strange it seems 
153
 that I should find myself, after a  year's experience
 of military life, in the very district in which I com-
 menced it!   I think that I passed my last birthday
 in the road which leads through Rockville.  When
 I try to realize the (to me) extraordinary experience
 of the year since then, I find it impossible to  take
 it all in, in its details ; the result, being the strongest
 impression of the utter impossibility of calculating
 on the future of human affairs, and the consequent
 necessity, since we must be interested in the future,
 from our very nature, of  having, on the one hand,
 an abiding faith in  God's providence ; or, on the
 other, of risking unhappiness in the  failure of our
 plans  to  provide  for  events which we could not
 foresee. And, when I consider that necessity in re-
 lation to the  present of our affairs, I cannot and do
 not attempt to foresee any thing as to our  personal
 future.  But remembering that in this past year, from
 events which, had  we been able, we could only have
 looked  forward to with  the  greatest distress, we
 have received lessons of more value than  any  pos-
 sible advantage, I assure you, my dear wife, that I
 have an  absolute  faith,  that, if our  duty is  per-
formed  according  to our  ability, the result, though
perhaps through tribulation, will be happiness now, 
154
or hereafter; and that we  may be able to perform
that duty is my daily prayer.         .
  I must  think that we have great  cause  to be
thankful that at this time you are so well situated.
You can have little idea of the experiences of peo-
ple in whose homes  the war exists.   It makes no
difference  which side is victorious:  all that they
value is destroyed.
  God  bless you and our dear children, and give
us strength to believe that whatever may be  before
us is for our lasting good !  Love to all at home.
                                      P. J. R.

  "This," his mother says in her journal, "was
but  a week before the battle of Antietam,  on
the  17 th of September.  There, he was wound-
ed,  and obliged to leave the field, keeping on
his  horse, and passing and  stopping to  speak
with dear friends  in  ambulances" (Sedgewick
and  Dwight) " who would not long survive.  He
reached home on the 20th ; believing, from the
statement of one  of the surgeons,  that  his
brother, Dr. Revere, was safe on  duty in the
hospital.  One hour after his  arrival in Boston, 
155
the news came of this brother's  death  in  the
field."  Paul's account, in a letter he wrote be-
fore starting for home, runs thus: "lam writ-
ing you a few lines, in hope of your receiving
them  in advance of any painful rumors.  There
has been a general engagement of a severe na-
ture  to-day.  The  result is not yet decided ;
though I have confidence in our being victori-
ous.  I have  received a flesh-wound through
the arm, just above the wrist.  It is but a slight
affair ; no bone broken ;  and not the slightest
occasion for anxiety.   I did  not leave the field
for several hours  after being hit: so you may
suppose the wound was not  very severe.  It is
not painful; only stiff and lame, as if from a
severe blow.   I was  near the  Twentieth this
afternoon, and heard of them from several per-
sons.   I saw Edward in the  forenoon for a mo-
ment.  There  are many wounded, and he will
have his hands full."  But Edward was gone, —
falling in the midst of the wounded, whom he
was caring for in the thick of the fight, and in
the very act of cheering on  the men near him
to another charge. 
EDWARD  H.  R.  REVERE,  M. D.
  This  excellent surgeon, and brave, noble-
hearted man, whose death on the field of battle,
and in the discharge of his duty, his friends and
the public have recently been called upon to la-
ment, was born in Boston, July 23, 1827.  His
paternal grandfather was  Col. Paul Revere, so
well  known for his  patriotic services  in the
Revolution, as well as for his connection with
the mechanic arts of his  time.  His maternal
grandfather, whose  name  he bore, was a man
of great  energy and  wide influence,  and  for
many years Judge of Probate for Norfolk Coun-
ty.   He had  also  been  Lieutenant-Governor.
Dr.  Revere's early education was  had in the
schools of his native city.  He embraced the   ,
profession of medicine, and took his degree at
      156 
157
the Medical  School of Harvard University in
1849.  He then  went to Paris for a year of
medical study, and was diligent in availing him-
self  of the advantages  for improvement which
that  capital offered.  Returning home, he en-
gaged in the practice of his profession at Green-
field, in this  State,  where he resided for some
years.   He subsequently removed  to Canton,
where  his father had a summer residence, and
where he interested himself in various benevo-
lent efforts.   Impelled by a strong sense of
duty, he offered his professional services to his
country soon after the  breaking-out of the war.
For  this sphere of duty he was peculiarly well
qualified.  Besides  his  professional  skill, his
courage  was of the highest  temper; his heart
was  tender and kind; and he had  the further
and  most important  advantage of a powerful
frame, capable alike of great efforts and great
endurance.
   He  joined  the  Twentieth   Massachusetts
Regiment on the 17th of September,  1861;  and
on the  21st of  October he was  ordered to the 
i58
battle of Ball's Bluff.  He was, through the whole
day, the only surgeon on the field for a force of
fourteen hundred men.   He was constantly ex-
posed to a shower of bullets, which did not in
the least discompose him, or interfere with the
calm and resolute performance of his duty.  It
was mainly owing to his exertions  that nearly
all  the wounded were  removed to the Mary-
land shore.  He was taken prisoner  at night
with Col. Lee, his  brother  Major Revere, and
other officers,  and endured  an imprisonment
of four months of  the most  rigorous kind.  It
was borne by Dr. Revere with a quiet fortitude
and uncomplaining  cheerfulness,  which  were
the result of a strong temperament and a manly
heart.  During all the privations,  indignities,
and exasperations to which he, in  companion-
ship with his brother officers, was exposed, not
an irritable word ever escaped his lips.  For a
part of  the  time,  in   conjunction with  Dr.
Fletcher of Indiana, he was allowed to employ
his professional services in aid of  the  sick and
wounded  Federal  prisoners in the hospital at 
159
Richmond.   Here his ministrations were most
blessed, not merely in the direct professional re-
lief they afforded, but also in their influence in
cheering the desponding, and keeping up  the
spirits of those who were ready to despair.   He
gave efficient aid in  removing two  hundred of
the prisoners to the boats for Fortress  Monroe.
   Upon his  exchange in February,  he rejoined
his regiment two days before the evacuation of
Yorktown ; went through all the subsequent bat-
tles ;  and was especially noticed at Fair Oaks
for his devoted attendance upon the large num-
bers of wounded.   During the continuous se-
ries of battles for seven days consequent upon
Gen. McClellan's change of front, his  exertions
were uninterrupted and prodigious.   He worked
literally  day and night.   Nothing  but his un-
common physical energy could have  sustained
the pressure  made  upon  his powers of mind
and body.
   He went into the battle at Antietam  as  a
surgeon, but acted also as an officer of the  line
in keeping up the men to their duty.   He  was 
i6o
shot through the heart, and immediately passed
from  life  to death.  The day was the 17 th of
September, the anniversary of that on which he
joined the army.  His death was glorious in all
respects ;  for it was met on the perilous edge of
battle, in the calm and fearless discharge of his
duty.
  As an illustration of his courage, and of his
forgetfulness  of self when in the  way of his
duty,  it may  be mentioned, that, only a  few
moments before he fell, he was observed by one
of the officers of his regiment to be  attending
to a wounded  man upon the ground.  While
thus occupied, the regiment, which stood within
a  few feet  of him,  suddenly  changed front,
faced to the rear,  and fired a  volley over his
head.  He continued  his work without a trem-
bling of the hand, and not even looking up.
  Dr. Revere married,  early in his professional
life, Miss  Laura P.  Jordan of Canton, a niece
of Commodore Downs.  His widow, and one
child, a daughter, survive him. 
i6i
                  Camp near Keedysville, Ma,
                           Sept. 21, 1862.
   I enclose to you several letters received here for
your brother since the battle ; also a small package
recovered from his body by a lieutenant of another
regiment.  I write in great haste:  but I  must not
neglect  to  tell you how  much I,  as his messmate,
with Col. Lee and Dr.  Hayward, feel the loss of
your brother,—with whom I had some college ac-
quaintance, renewed since he was with us,—and
how much  we sympathize with you and the others
of his family; our regret only tempered by reflect-
ing that he died  in a way that will make his name
one of the brilliant ones  in this war.  The example
that he set of devotion to the men of his regiment,
at the sacrifice of his own  life, is  one that has rare-
ly been  set, and cannot fail of a wide effect  When
I first saw one of our wounded officers, almost his
first conversation about the battle was to express
his admiration for the bravery of our two surgeons ;
and  he spoke of your brother  more  particularly,
whom  he noticed after the regiment had " faced to
the rear," and had thus left him on the  side of our
lines next  the enemy, keeping on his labor undis-
turbed, and continuing his attentions to the wound-
                 »4* 
162
ed man whom he had at that particular time under
his charge.  Massachusetts may well be proud of
her surgeons as of her soldiers.
                                      C. W. F.
                 Edward's Ferry, Oct.  2, 1862.
   I have heard the sad news of Edward's death ;
and cannot refrain from sending you an expression
of my warmest sympathy, even at the risk of intru-
sion.  The surgeon will be a great loss to his regi-
ment and to the army, but the genial, kind-hearted
gentleman  even more to  his many friends, among
whom I  place myself.   The  intimate relations in
which we have  been placed during the past year,
and especially during our captivity, have  made me
regard him as more than an acquaintance, and with
real friendship.   I have heard none of the particu-
lars ; but I know that  he met his death in defence
of his country as a really brave man, as he was,
would do, — at his post, in performance of his duty.
I can only wish we may all do our duty  as well as
he did his.
                                       C. L. P.
     Bolivar Heights, Harper's Ferry, Oct. 13.
   We were very sorry to lose your brother; but
we should realize it more if we  did not seem  to 
163
have lost everybody.  There is nobody left to feel
a loss, I  believe, but myself, out of the  old field
and staff of the once " gay Twentieth."  Col. Lee
is  commanding the  brigade;  Major  Revere  re-
moved and promoted;  Palfrey severely wounded.
Your brother received the just reward of his  de-
voted services.  Dr. Hayward away on sick leave ;
poor Dr. Revere gone !   We felt very much  the
loss of Dr. Revere, who was killed while so bravely
attending to wounded in the extreme front; in fact,
in front of the regiment.   Both he and  Dr. Hay-
ward have  the warmest praise from all, for their
courage and  devotedness on that field, which  ex-
ceeded, in the hotness of the fire, by far any thing
our regiment had ever before been exposed to.
                                      C. W. F.


   We quote  once  more from his  mother's jour-
nal : —
   " It would be impossible to express the  en-
thusiasm of Dr.  Revere  in  administering  to
the  poor creatures in  the Richmond  hospital,
and their response to him from the fact that  he
was a Northern physician.  One  of them said, 
164
" his coming to them was like a new sunshine on
their misery;"  and many is the man who has
called at his father's house to express his grati-
tude, and to say what a blessing he was to them.
We can look back upon the wonderful mercies
attending our  dear Edward with more com-
posure after years of separation, remembering
the compensations there were in his own  heart.
His desire of usefulness has been fully answered
in that year of great duty, when so many of his
fellow-creatures  were  relieved  by his efforts.
He had proved the power that was in him, and
given assurance of his trust in God.  I can see
the conflicts of this world, to him, are well over,
and that life was swallowed up in victory.  His
large heart could not die: it had ever beat with
the best  and the holiest affections, and with a
more tender desire to help the tempted and
sorrowful than is usual to man."

   Extracts  from Judge Devens's response at a
medical dinner: —
   " Alike in the camp, in the hospital, on the 
i65
field, the surgeons shared in every toil and every
danger; and  in those dark  and dreary hours
which occurred more  than once, when we were
compelled to abandon our wounded on the field,
they never hesitated to be taken prisoners with
their men, although it exposed them to months
of insult and  privation.   If  I  recall by name
two, —Dr. E.  H. R. Revere and Dr.  S.  F. Ha-
ven, — it is because they were my friends, and
not because you had not others, who, like them,
nobly sacrificed their lives on  the field for the
great cause for which we fought.   Each, if he had
been content  to perform  his duty only,  as the
regulations of  the army required it of him, could
have remained in his hospital at the rear of the
line, and rendered his  services  to such as were
brought to him : but  they died in  the front of
the battle, among the men, literally in  the ranks,
where no commander would have  ordered  or
even asked them  to go; so  anxious were they
to  superintend personally the  removal  of the
wounded, and to give not only  their faithful but
their instant aid.  When I think of the life and 
i66
death of such men as these, of their high devo-
tion  to duty, of their faithful  guardianship of
those under their  care, I cannot but feel  and
speak warmly of the medical profession."

  The shock of this  unexpected sorrow in the
loss  of Edward was very great to Paul.  That
he should have  come away without  seeing him,
or knowing of his fate, — leaving him dying or
dead, — was a heavy thought at first.  Wound-
ed, feeble,  suffering,  this was  an added pang.
But he was the one to break the dreadful news
to the family, and sustained himself and helped
them with his usual firmness and patience.
  He had hoped not to be  detained at home
for any length of time by his wound.  He  had
made light of it in writing to his wife ; but it
proved a more  serious  matter than was then
supposed.   His former debility and his gene-
ral condition rendered him  a  bad  subject for
such an experience.   There were  no  serious
symptoms;  but he  did not rally.   Going to
Canton, he gave  himself up  to rest.  Week 
167
after week passed, and  his  recovery was de-
layed.   He went to Boston with the family the
latter part of October, trusting  that a week or
two would see  him well.   Still  he was too fee-
ble, far into the winter, to think of returning to
his army duties.   Then  malaria  showed  itself
with severe  rheumatism ; and he was confined
to his  room, and part of the time to his bed,
unable to move.  After a weary period of pain
and inability, however, he seemed to revive, and
was  able  gradually to move about; and thus
slowly he recovered  sufficiently  by the latter
part of January to imagine he could go back to
his place in the field.   That winter had  been a
dark one  for the  Union  side.   The  repeated
changes of commanders,  and disastrous  battles
before Fredericksburg, had brought the country
back to the  old  feeling  of  uncertainty  and
apprehension which had begun  to oppress  it
before the battle of Antietam.   Disabled men
at home longed to be at work.  It chafed  them
sorely  to read of the losses, and think that they
were incapacitated and idle;  but only  so be- 
i68
cause they had not spared themselves before,
but done  so much.   Paul could not bear  to
remain away a moment longer than was abso-
lutely necessary.  As soon as  he could sit  a
horse, he considered himself fit for every thing,
and  determined on  making  the trial  of his
strength.  His  friends saw that it was  almost
an impossibility for him  to carry out his pur-
pose ; and when, having gone as  far as Wash-
ington, he was obliged to return by easy stages,
stopping to rest in Philadelphia and New York,
they were not surprised.  Weeks went by again
of varying health.  The spring  found  him bet-
ter ;  and so impatient was he to be at  his post,
that towards the last  of April he  took another
leave of his friends, and started with fresh hope
for Washington.  He knew not  where he would
be assigned.  In January, his  old friend, Gen.
Sumner,  died.   His  staff-officers,  of course,
were scattered; and  Paul was obliged to  look
for another position.   It happened at this time
that the Twentieth Regiment was open  to him
as  colonel.   Receiving  his  appointment  in 
169
Washington, he joined  the regiment  at  Fal-
mouth, and was much pleased to be again with
his old  comrades and friends, by whom he was
gladly welcomed.
   His being made Colonel brings to mind  what
one of the old friends of the family had  said,
when, two years before, he went into the army:
" He will come back a Colonel, like his grand-
father "  (Col. Paul Revere).  Paul was a person
born to  command; and he filled his office natu-
rally, gracefully, kindly, but with strictness and
justice.   This will appear more forcibly as pre-
sented in one or two communications from offi-
cers of the Twentieth  after his  death.   He
believed in discipline; but no merit was over-
looked.   He was ready to share  in  the  hard-
ships of the camp and march ; and he expected
others to do  their full  part also, each in his
place, for the good  of the whole.   These two
months — the  last of his life — that  he was in
command of his old regiment were months of
great interest to him.
13 
170
            Falmouth, Monday, May n, 1863.
   I write a few lines to tell you of my safe arrival
here.   I came down in the boat, arriving at about
two o'clock.  I found the regiment in the town ; the
officers in a very good house, and very comfortable ;
the weather delightful, — rather warm for comfort;
the trees in leaf.
                                      P. J. R.

                               May 12, 1863.
   The brigade is under the command of  Col. Hall,
a most excellent man, a West-Pointer ; quite young;
that is,  under thirty.    Nothing is known here as
to future movements.  I am feeling very well indeed,
and have no doubt that the warm weather  will eradi-
cate the enemy entirely.  There is a most astound-
ing number of birds in the trees about this house,
occasioned,  I suppose,  by the cutting-down of the
forest-trees in the neighborhood : some of them are
of most beautiful plumage.
                                      P. J- R.

                                May 15, 1863.
   The  regiment is quartered in the town of Fal-
mouth ; and I  am living in a very comfortable house
belonging to one Miss Dunbar, a most rabid South- 
i7i
erner, who fully appreciates the fact that a woman's
tongue is her only weapon in this contest  I called
upon her to-day ;  and she gave me the usual recita-
tion of violated soil, desecrated hearthstones, &c.
   The regiment seems very small  after seeing the
Thirty-ninth, but makes up in spirit what  it wants
in numbers.   There are very few officers, — about
one to a company.   My horse proves a very good
one.  He is very quiet, and at the same time  has
plenty of spirit if you wish to wake him up.
   I called on Gen. Couch, who received  me very
kindly.   He stands very high in the  estimation of
the army.
   One can hardly realize the fact of two large armies
so  near each other, everything is so quiet.  The
pickets  have been  so long accustomed to seeing
each other, that they never think of firing : indeed,
there are to be seen, at any time, squads — thirty to
forty of them — hauling seines in the river,  in which
they take large numbers of shad and herring.  Un-
fortunately, a general order forbids our men to fish,
or  we  might have  a plentiful supply  of fish.' It
would  not be practicable for both parties to be at
it at the same time ; for the river is not very wide,
and the  " rebs " come half way across with their
seines. 
172
  The opposite bank  of the river is much lower
than our side, which rises into steep hills, intersected
by deep ravines running towards the river.  The
other side is quite level for some distance from the
river, and then rises to a rolling  country, on the
ridges  of which are  the batteries and rifle-pits of
the " rebs."
   Fredericksburg is about a  mile below us,—a
compactly-built town ;  most of the houses of brick ;
which method of building has saved it from destruc-
tion, the shot and shell merely making round holes
in the walls.  The place seems pretty well deserted,
though some  of the inhabitants  (chiefly women)
are to be seen moving about
                                       P. J. R.
                                 May 17, 1863.
   We remain in Falmouth, the regiment quartered
in houses; Macy, the  surgeons, adjutant, Patten,
and myself, in the principal house of the village.  It
is really very pleasant.   The house is  surrounded
by fine trees;  a splendid elm  shading the end of
the house, horse-chestnut trees in  front, and  other
large trees in  the garden  behind.  Many  of the
latter have their trunks entirely covered with English
ivy of many years' growth.  The owner, Miss Dun- 
173
bar, is in the condition that an elderly maiden lady,
owning a nice house and grounds kept with  scru-
pulous care, might  be supposed  to be on having
her house  taken possession of, and  her grounds
passed through constantly by  soldiers : and with-
al, being  a rabid  Southerner, she thinks herself
singled out for persecution ;  the fact being, that she
has really been treated with consideration, in having
more than  half her house left to her exclusive use,
with a guard constantly before  it to prevent intru-
sion.   It is next to impossible for a woman to realize
the necessities of war as any excuse for what seems
to her only  a violation of her  individual  rights.
Could New-England people realize what war really
is, as shown in the experiences of those who inhabit
the actual theatre  of the war, they would  hardly
think and  speak as flippantly of its operations as
they are in the habit of doing.  When one is com-
pelled to the conviction that it makes but little dif-
ference, in the case  of individual rights, whether a
country is  occupied by friends or foes in time of
war, and is forced to the reflection of the possibility
of such occupancy by one  or the  other, he will be
much  more single-minded in his efforts to bring the
war to a close by the only means  by  which it  can
            is* 
174
be  concluded ; that is, directing every effort and
every thought to the one end of successful fighting.
   I continue very well.   Was on duty as general
officer of the day  for twenty four hours ; which im-
plies much riding, without particular fatigue.  The
weather has  been  delightful, — cool and bracing.
The trees are filled  with birds.  A robin is looking
in at the window from her nest in a tree a few feet
from me.   She has  just given her eggs a peck, to
inquire if  they are ready to open ; but apparently
has received an unfavorable response, as she has
settled back with  a most resolute air, as if thinking
that it was not the first time she had hatched robins.
   I wonder if young robins ever trouble their par-
ents by sucking their thumbs.   If I remain  here,
I shall watch to  see what the  remedy is  in  that
case, that  it may be applied to a certain " chick "
of mine should he prove otherwise incorrigible.
                                       P.  J. R.

                                May 20, I863.
   When I think  of what has been lived through
by us in the past two years, it seems to  me that I
must  be  lacking in sensibility  not to  feel  more
change in myself. 
175
  Is it that the change in circumstances has  been
so radical and sudden, that sufficient time  has not
passed to affect our characters, or even to allow us
to realize fully the events ?  or is it that our human
constitution is such, that Providence has  not  in-
tended  that  events  should  change it, but  only
modify it, and that the change which we are in the
habit of considering the end of all  human  experi-
ence may be merely the means of  introducing us
to a new experience in a different and higher life,
where we may hope to be eventually perfected ?  I
love this  view of our existence,  because I can
actually realize through it that which is otherwise
so difficult to take in, —that our present life is  but a
phase of our existence.
   It seems to me that making this not simply a
belief, but  as much a reality  to ourselves  as that
we  may grow old, or as that any  of  the  experi-
ences that we see other men  go  through  may be
ours, is the surest  means  of fitting us for  another
life;  for by this habitual contemplation of it,
coupled with religious  faith, we  shall get to the
habit of providing  to enter it by the  only means
given us to  do so, — fulfilling our duties.   To one
with whom this  habit of really contemplating the 
176
true  relation of  the  present and future  life  has
become fixed, how many of even the severe  trials
he may be called on to meet will appear compara-
tively bearable !  To my mind there is contained in
the consistency between this view (which  would at
first  seem calculated to make  us to some extent
indifferent to matters in this life), and the existence
of our human affections the most striking  evidence
of God's power in  adapting us to our present ex-
istence.
                                        P. J. R.
                                May 27, 1863.
   We are still living quietly in Falmouth.  This
life is so comfortable, that it seems impossible that
it should last.  I am writing in a room larger than
any of those which father thought so large in the
" Villa,"  the  windows of  which look down the
river  to  Fredericksburg.   On  looking up, I see
the " rebs " in considerable numbers loafing up and
down on the opposite bank of the river.   A party
of about a dozen are just drawing a seine.  In the
last  few days they have taken to deserting  more
than  usual,  coming  over  singly  and in pairs.
Between last evening and  this morning,  eighteen
have  come over from the  troops in and around 
177
Fredericksburg.   For the last ten days they have
been drawing seines all the time ; and the  plan of
escape has been, for any man who wished to de-
sert, to get hold of the end of the seine which was
to be drawn  out, and, when it was at its extreme
length, to dive and " put " for our side.  The guard
would be afraid  to fire,  as so many of their  men
would be in the water that our men could  shoot a
dozen of them before  they could get out. They
confine the fishing to a few selected  men now.  I
am about as good as  new physically,  though my
long  absence  from exertion  of any kind makes
work "come hard."
   It is  a great  pleasure that Frankie thinks so
much of me.   My stay at home has certainly been
a great blessing on that account, if no other of the
many enjoyments  I experienced had  existed.  I
can't but feel that such experiences  of the enjoy-
ment we sometimes have in this life as a conse-
quence of suffering (as,  in our case, the consequence
of my illness) are intended to suggest to us the
possibility of future  happiness, even  should the
general course of our present existence be clouded,
provided we struggle to do our duty.
                                       P. J. R. 
i78
              Falmouth, Saturday, June 6, 1863.
   I had  intended writing  a long letter, but have
been very busy last evening and  early this morn-
ing.  We had expected to  move  at daylight;  but
the order was countermanded.   Sedgwick's corps
threw over bridges below Fredericksburg  yester-
day, and commenced  crossing  in the  afternoon
under a  fire of artillery from our guns.  Nothing
serious ensued ; and as every thing is quiet to-day,
and our  orders to  move countermanded, we con-
clude that it was either a feint, or only a reconnois-
sance to ascertain if the enemy were still there in
force.  Every individual "reb"  has  disappeared
from the  other side of the river this morning.
                                       P. J. R.

                                     June  14.
   We have been  under marching-orders for some
days, and shall undoubtedly march before morning.

                                     June  18.
   We  are  at Fairfax Station,  twenty miles from
Alexandria.  We  left our quarters  in Falmouth
just after  dark   Sunday  evening, but remained
during the  night.   Got fairly off just after daylight, 
179
the enemy making no demonstration.  We marched
to Acquia  Creek.    Tuesday, marched  again  to
Ocoquan Creek.  Wednesday to this place, — Fair-
fax  Station.   The whole  march  has  been  ex-
tremely severe, the  heat and dust intolerable.   I
have  never seen  so  much  unfeigned  suffering
during the war.  In  not a few cases  the men  fell
dead by the side of the road.   The conduct  of  the
troops was beyond all praise.  Hardly a  man was
to be  found whose  feet were not blistered, this
joined to  other  causes of  suffering;   and  yet
they marched  hour after hour.  Of the Twentieth,
every man  bearing arms, except twelve, who had
certificates from the surgeon of being  physically
unable to march, answered to their names at roll-
call one minute after halting.
                                       P. J.  R.
                                    June 22.
   Friday afternoon we marched to Centreville,  and
Saturday to within two miles of Thoroughfare Gap,
where we  now are.  The march of  Saturday was
very  fatiguing to the men : it rained most of the
time, and we did not arrive at  the camp until near
midnight.  I got on comparatively well: for,  not
feeling well, Dr. Hayward advised me to ride in an 
i8o
ambulance ; which I did, and so escaped much of
the fatigue.  I am quite well again.  On our march
we passed the Stone house where we were confined
over night after Ball's Bluff,  and where we first re-
ceived food.   It is in the midst of the battle-ground
of the first Bull Run.

                             Monday, June 29.
   We are just outside of Frederick City.  We have
been marching ever since I wrote the last letter.
                                        P. J.  R.
                                     June 30.
   We are at the  town of Union, Md.;  where
we arrived last night after  the most  tremendous
march of the war.   We left camp at eight, a.m., and
arrived at nine at  night;  the  distance over thirty
miles.  The troops were  completely exhausted  for
the time, but seem made of iron; for, after one day's
rest, are in as good heart as ever. We  lost but two
men from the regiment from dropping out, but had
to leave thirteen to  be brought on  in ambulances.
The endurance of the  men  was only  equalled by
their  orderly  conduct.   Not a man  on the line
of our division could be seen outside the road, and
the temptations were unusual.  This whole country 
i8i
is one great farm,— field after field of crops of every
kind ; and, at every house, plenty of poultry and
fresh vegetables.   The strongest  temptation was
through the cherry-trees :  the  road was  lined with
them of every variety and in perfection ; and yet on
we marched  right under  them, leaving them  be-
hind.  I made up for it rB-day, being in town
where the  Nineteenth  Massachusetts  were on
guard.  I found that they had a very long ladder
against a tree that bore such cherries as you never
dreamed of.  I ascended,  and  remained as long as
my capacity for eating held out   Tell father I re-
membered him, and ate a full share for him as well
as myself.  The contrast in the manner of the peo-
ple here with that to which we have been accus-
tomed in Virginia is very pleasing.  This part of the
State is very populous : and, at nearly every house,
men and women  were collected, giving water  and
whatever they had to the troops ; a most pernicious
practice, by the way,  as it delays the  march,  and
uses  up  many men by excessive drinking, though
done from the best motives.  The  people were en-
tirely taken  by surprise, not  expecting the army in
this direction.  They  are the most thoroughly rural
population imaginable.
          16 
182
   We crossed  the Potomac at  Edward's Ferry,
our old place.   We camped on the farm adjoining
our old camp.  I rode over there.   As  you will
suppose,  the visit  gave rise to  many reflections
on  the events of the two years  since  I  marched
from it.   When we first camped there, the want of
good water was  much felt, and I spent several days
with a number of men building a well.   I went to
it, and found it in good preservation.   The remains
of the winter-quarters gave me a good idea of their
position  during the winter.  I have  some  dozen
blossoms picked there, I will send you.   I suppose
some one has  some idea where the enemy is;
though we know nothing, as no  force has been met.

                            Thursday, July 2.
   We marched yesterday to near  Gettysburg ; and,
this morning, moved to the  rear of  the  town.
There seems a prospect of an engagement.  In case
one should occur, we all  hope  it  may be a general
one, as, from the position of the armies, it seems it
must prove decisive.  For myself, I feel that God
will order what is  best for us  all.  May he  bless
you and our dear children and all at home !   I re-
ceived Josie's letter yesterday,  with our dear little 
i»3
heart's photograph.  He looks quite like a man, and
old enough to take care of his mamma.  Tell him
I say so, and shall depend on his doing so.
                                     P. J.  R.

   The design of  the enemy  was for Lee  to
keep  Hooker engaged  with a portion of his
force on the east side of the Blue  Ridge, and
with the remainder to cross the Potomac in the
neighborhood of Poolesville,  and make a de-
scent on Washington  and Baltimore.
   This  plan  was  frustrated; and the  whole
rebel army pressed forward into Maryland and
Pennsylvania.
   Our men were  not behindhand, and, by  a
shorter line of march, were brought  up by the
first of July before the enemy ; and then was
fought one of  the decisive battles of the war, at
Gettysburg.
   Here it was — where the tide of invasion and
disaster was turned, and Lee led off his troops,
broken  and  defeated, leaving  a third of his
force  in our hands, or among the dead — that 
184
the end came,  in the moment of triumph,  to
Col. Revere.  He was wounded at three o'clock,
p.m., July 2d.  His regiment  was in advance,
lying on the ground.  He rose a little to recon-
noitre or give an order,  and received a mortal
wound.   He  was  immediately carried  off the
field, and soon conveyed to the  division  hos-
pital in  Gettysburg, where he lingered  until
six o'clock in  the  afternoon of the  4th.  His
servant was with him; and he  received devoted
attentions  from the surgeon  of his regiment,
Dr. Hayward.  He desired a  telegram to  be
sent home at once, telling of his fall,  and  say-
ing,  " Come quickly."  But  it was too  late.
When his brother and  sister  and his wife  ar-
rived, they only learned that he was  dead. His
body was  brought home,  and buried by the
side of his brother Edward  at  Mount  Auburn.
His mother's record of  his death in her journal
is simply  this, "A battle took  place on the
2d of July, in which Paul was mortally wound-
ed at the head of  his  regiment, and survived
until the  4th, hearing  of the victory, and  re- 
i85
joicirg in it.   The  shouts roused him, and he
asked which side had won the day.  They told
him ours.  His eye lighted up with gratitude,
and he   sunk  into  unconsciousness."   And
afterwards she  writes of the loss of her two
sons, "The lesson has been widely  different
from what we  expected ;  and we know we have
had no peculiar claim  to so much  blessing.
Now the chief object is to be cheerfully resigned
to  the  will of God;  to  treasure the  recol-
lection  of their strong, dutiful lives, and the
hope that the discipline they endured had fitted
them to  ascend to  a more  perfect  happiness
and a better  development;  and to  remember
the  high motives  that led them to  leave  so
much they had to  live  for  at  home, to give
themselves for what they thought  the benefit of
mankind.  It  was  a willing sacrifice,  and,  I
trust, acceptable to God.   They knew the risk
they ran.  They knew they carried with them
our heart's blood.  But  the conflict must be
met. It was their duty to aid in it.   The claim
on them was  as strong as on any and gallant-
           16* 
186
ly they answered it.  Can I doubt that it was
the gracious Providence  of God that raised
them above the mere indulgence of this world's
happiness, and that closed their lives  for some
heavenly purpose ?"
  One word, in conclusion, with regard to Col.
Revere's religious character, the source of his
highest excellence, and the  most shining mark
of his attainment.   It has been seen, that, from
his boyhood, he had been  governed by right
principles, and  the desire  of all  things  good.
His manhood developed admirable virtues ; and
so it  was,  when  trials came, that  he looked
above, and felt his only stay was in  the help of
Heaven.   Religious sentiments and habits grew
stronger  with his  enlarged  experience.   The
sense of  living in the sight  of God, under His
care, and with His aid, became constant and pre-
vailing.   On his return from Richmond, where
he had endured so much, and manifested a spirit
equal to his lot, and where the word of the Lord
and prayer had daily given him strength, and
brought the light of a better world to all within 
i87
that narrow cell, he connected himself, as a com-
municant, with the Church, saying that he could
never go away again, that he could not  meet
the new perils in  his path, without first taking
this important step.   This was no sudden con-
viction, brought to pass by strange events, but
the sober result of long deliberation.  A natural
reserve made him slow of speech upon  these
subjects; but it  was from the  fulness of his
heart that he came to the Lord's table, as he had
hitherto been walking by the Lord's side.  That
he thought deeply and seriously upon such mat-
ters is plain from the following extract from one
of his last letters, with which this sketch will be
brought to a close : " Is it," he writes, "that our
human constitution is such that Providence has
not intended that events should change, but only
modify it; and that the change which we  are in
the habit of considering the end of all human
experiences may  be merely the means of intro-
ducing us to  a new experience in a different and
higher life, where we may hope to be eventually
perfected ?   I love this view of our  existence, 
188
because  I  can actually realize  through it that
which is otherwise so difficult really to take in, —
that our present life is but a phase of our exist-
ence.  It seems to  me making this  not  simply
a belief,  but as much a reality  to ourselves  as
that we  may grow old, or that  any of the ex-
periences we see other men  go through  may  be
ours, is the  surest means of fitting us for another
life ; for  by this habitual contemplation of it,
coupled with religious faith,  we shall get to the
habit of providing to enter it by the only means
given us  to do so, — fulfilling our duties."

  The following tribute from  one,  who, from
constant  association with Col.  Revere since the
regiment left the State, most  fully appreciated
his  rare and noble qualities, met with  a warm
response from every officer: —
  " To the list of the original  officers now lost
to this regiment (some by death, some by dis-
ability from sickness or wounds, and others  by
promotion  in  regiments  of later  enlistment)
Gettysburg has added the name — 
18g
         COL. PAUL J.  REVERE.
  " The officers remaining  cherish the remem-
brance of their respected names.  With regret
for the absent, and sorrow for the dead, is  also
felt pride in their career, and gratitude for their
services.
  " Col.  Revere's  strong character exerted an
influence upon the regiment  that is still  felt.
Brave, chivalrous,  self-sacrificing, gentle,  and
generous, he set a noble example of private vir-
tues ; and in  the establishment and discipline
of the regiment his force impressed both officers
and men.  The worthy possessed in him a friend
upon whom to repose an absolute trust: the un-
worthy found him  a stern and contemptuous
adversary.  His discipline was severe, but not
debasing: manly sentiments were encouraged,
not repressed.  By  its means, self-respect was
fostered in the minds of the aspiring, and be-
gotten where  it did  not exist.   It was  demon-
strated that discipline should  be essential, not
merely formal; that obedience, correctness, and 
190
zeal were qualities not of external and superficial
value alone, for  the  improvement of the ma-
chinery of the service, but that the man himself
was to be benefited by the observance ;  that it
was for his own advantage, and to his own credit,
that discipline  was to  be  exercised ;  that  the
fear of punishment was a low motive, xmly to be
appealed to when higher motives failed ; but, if
they failed, the alternative, ignoble and disagree-
able as  it was, would be inevitable.
  " Military discipline  involves submission on
the part of inferior, and  authority on  that of
superior : any other than such relations are in-
compatible with the fact and the idea of disci-
pline.   But  the  motives  for  the   exercise  of
authority and obedience may be as diverse as
Christianity and  Paganism.   While the forms
remain the  same, obedience may be conscious
opposition  to law ;  be  rendered from fear, or
exacted by force :  this is destructive  of in-
dividuality in the man, is slavish and unchris-
tian.   Authority may  be  used selfishly, and
without reference to law:  this is tyrannical and 
i9i
unchristian.   On  the other hand,  obedience
should be rendered by voluntary self-sacrifice to
the law,  and authority  exercised with  equal
abnegation of  self:  this is  ennobling,  loyal,
and  Christian ;  and this was the discipline of
Col. Revere.
   "While, with Roman justice, Col. Revere
would not spare  the incorrigible villain, his sup-
port was always ready for the weak;  and the
sick and suffering would be attended by him
with the gentleness of a father.   He was warmly
attached to his regiment, and even when absent
from it,  in the  summer  of  1862, as corps  in-
spector on Gen.  Sumner's staff,  he still loved to
be near it; and  at Antietam he  rode  against the
enemy, and was wounded in front of its advancing
line.   His health had been permanently im-
paired by confinement as a prisoner-of-war in
Richmond;  but his stanch  endurance  would
not succumb  to his disease.  In sickness, as in
health, he was still the cheerful and dauntless
Christian  soldier.   Gettysburg  has cost his
regiment a deeply respected and beloved com- 
192
mander; and Massachusetts  has lost a citizen
worthy  of that  name  {prceclare et  venerabiU
nomen /) Paul Revere."

        FROM  A BROTHER-OFFICER.
   "The death of Col. Revere  is at once  a
heavy affliction  to his family and  his friends,
and a public calamity.   Few men have enjoyed
a larger share of the regard of those who have
known them ; and it is safe to say, that, of those
who have gone to the war from  Boston, no  one
was more valuable than  he.   His friends know
too well the loss they have sustained  in losing
him to need a public tribute to the many quali-
ties that won  for him their respect, their admira-
tion, and their love.  He has  done and suffered
more  than most men for the cause ;  and at last,
when the hour of victory was near, he has died
the death of a soldier, at the  head of his tried
and trusty regiment.  It is fitting that all should
know the military history of such a man; and
to contribute to that end this sketch is written.
   "In  the summer of  1861 he accepted  the 
193
position of major  in  the  Twentieth Regiment
of  Massachusetts Volunteers, and employed
himself with energy and success in  raising and
disciplining that regiment.  He marched with it
to the field in  the month of September of the
same year.   Drill and light picket-duty  occu-
pied the following weeks;  and Major Revere
devoted much  of  his leisure time to acquaint-
ing himself with the  topography of  the country
about his camp, and  to laborious  and  patient
observation of the position and works of the
hostile forces on the  farther  side of the Poto-
mac.   Nature  had bestowed  upon him  in  a
peculiar degree the faculty which is known as
an ' eye for country;' and his tastes  had led him
frequently, in  earlier years,  to  the hunting-
grounds which border our northern lakes, and
there he had made much progress in woodcraft.
In his new position  he was  always eager to
extend this knowledge, and turn it  to account,
and always studying to bring the coup d'ozilmili-
taire to perfection.  The fortune of  war speedi-
ly and suddenly removed him from the scene
           *7 
194
of his usefulness,  and substituted the narrow
walls  of a prison for the lovely scenery of the
Upper Potomac.  The story of Ball's  Bluff is
too familiar to need a repetition, and the manly
part which Major Revere took in that struggle is
well  known.  But it may be well  to state,  that,
of the scanty transpottation by which our forces
crossed to the Virginia shore, a material portion
was  due to his forethought and  energy.   He
suggested the transfer of a boat from  the Mary-
land to the Virginia side of Harrison's Island
by water,  and  himself saw that the long and
laborious effort  was made and carried out.
   " In less than two months from the time when
Major Revere went from Massachusetts to the
field, he was a wounded prisoner in Richmond;
and it was not much later that the stern policy
of the Southern government demanded hostages
for the captured privateersmen, and  it was his
lot to go into close captivity.  The sufferings of
those long and dreary months were borne  by
him  with fortitude and patience; but it was
thought by his  comrades that he was  never the 
195
same man again.  His  spirit was unchanged ;
but the strong constitution seemed to have been
weakened  by his long  confinement, and the
tough frame was less enduring of the trials and
exposures of the peninsular campaign.
   "Major  Revere rejoined his regiment just  in
time to march with  them into  the  abandoned
works  at Yorktown.  In the following week he
rendered efficient service wherever there  was
work for him to  do ; and the thin remnant  of
those who served with him then will remember
the energy  and thoroughness with which he led
the skirmishers through the woods and swamps
which  edged the Chickahominy, and how  gal-
lantly he played  his part, and how  clearly his
voice rang, on that dark afternoon when Sum-
ner met the rebel left as it swung round at Fair
Oaks, and  the Twentieth first  had its revenge
for Ball's Bluff, and took prisoners from eleven
of  the  thirteen   States   of  the  Confederacy.
There  was fighting  often in those days,  and
dangerous  and fatiguing outpost duty.  In all
these scenes, in  battle and skirmish, on the 
196
 picket-line  and in camp, Major Revere showed
 himself the faithful, the conscientious, the gal-
 lant soldier.  But it was in the hard  battle of
 Glendale, on the 30th of June, 1861, that Major
 Revere first had an opportunity to show, on  a
 larger scale, his value as a  soldier and his fit-
 ness  for high command.    On  that day, when
 McCall's  division  had been driven from their
 position, with heavy loss of  men and guns, and
 the enemy seemed  near to piercing our centre,
 and cutting off a  large portion of our army,
 Sedgwick's  division did much towards  restor-
 ing the battle.   Major Revere was detailed for
 staff duty that afternoon, and it is  hard to esti-
 mate his services too highly.  His activity was
 unremitting, his gallantry  conspicuous, and  his
 quick  and trained eye ever ready to see what
 needed to be seen at those critical moments.
 He worked as few men can work, in conducting
ready regiments to  the points where they were
needed, and in stimulating the unready by every
influence which only the true soldier can  exert.
He had two horses  shot,  and was  severely 
197
bruised by the fall of one, as he strove  to leap
it wounded, across a ditch where he felt that he
must go.  For his gallant  services Gen. Sedg-
wick made especial mention of him.
  "In the long trial of the seven-days' battles,
Major Revere  showed, in an eminent degree, the
virtue of cheerful fortitude.   Those who have
not seen hard  service do not know the worth of
this, nor how comparatively rare  it is.  When
the frame  is  worn by excessive fatigue, and
exhausted by  want of food and sleep,  and the
mind is kept  on the stretch  by  the  severest
excitement and  anxiety which man can  expe-
rience,  many  a gallant soldier  becomes de-
pressed ; and the dispirited countenance and the
discouraged speech exert an  injurious influence
upon all around.  Those who fought their way
from the lines before Richmond to James River,
last summer, know how much harm came from
this cause;  and those who  saw Major Revere
know that none of this harm came from  him.
He always appeared cheerful and hopeful, and
in so bearing himself he did  more service, and
         n* 
198
showed more of the true  spirit of the soldier,
than men can do and display by gallantry amid
the stirring excitement of the battle-field.
  " In the  sultry camp at  Harrison's Landing,
Major Revere languished.  The effects of prison-
life seemed to show themselves, and his frame
seemed shaken by his fall at Glendale.  He crept
out with the  regiment  to Malvern Hill  when
our forces retook it in  August; but there his
manifest unfitness  for  the  field attracted  the
attention of Gen. Sumner, and that kind-hearted
officer at once ordered him to the rear, and gave
him leave of absence.
  " He returned to  the field in September, but
not now as major of the Twentieth.  He came
back as inspector-general of  the Second Corps,
on  the staff of Gen. Sumner, with  the rank of
lieutenant-colonel.   He rode  by  the  side of
Gen. Sumner into the field  of blood at Antie-
tam, where, in thirty minutes, fifty-five per cent
of Dana's brigade of Sedgwick's division were
shot down.  Here,  as everywhere, he  did good
service, till a wound disabled him, and sent  him 
199
to the rear, not  knowing  that his brother, a
brave and  devoted surgeon,  lay on the same
field, shot through the heart.
  " His recovery from this wound was at first
rapid ; but  afterwards he was  attacked by rheu-
matic pains, which caused him cruel sufferings,
and for a long  time kept him from the field.
As soon as he was fit to go  back, and, as many
thought, before  he was fit, he  reported for duty
again.   His old chief, Gen. Sumner, who ever
showed especial regard for him, was dead; and
there was no place for him on the staff of the
new commander  of the corps.  Under  these
circumstances, he was appointed to the com-
mand of his old  regiment, and by the side of
his companions in so many  fights, on the 2d of
July, 1862,  he received the  wound of which he
died two days after, when the country for which
he had given his life was rejoicing over her dear-
bought victory.
  " His life was honorable,  his death was glori-
ous ; but he leaves  us  in  deep  sorrow for his
loss.  His  tall and manly form is laid to rest in 
200
Mount Auburn, but  the  memory of his virtues
remains.  As long as those who have known
him shall be on earth, there will be a place  in
their hearts for the true friend, the  gallant and
conscientious  soldier, the accomplished  Chris-
tian gentleman."

FROM AN OLD FRIEND AND SCHOOLMATE.
  " The death of Col. Paul J. Revere, who was
mortally wounded in the recent battle at Get-
tysburg, has brought forth in this  community,
where  he was so well known, an expression  of
the esteem in which he  was held  for  his high
and lofty character, his unbending rectitude, his
noble courage, and his undying patriotism.  All
these traits of his character were so well known,
and so cordially assented to, that it  is needless
to dwell upon them.   Of these we have already
spoken; but it is of his characteristics — ex-
hibited rather in the private circle  than to the
public, to his intimates rather than to his ac-
quaintances — that we propose to  say  a few
words. 
201
  " When a boy, in that truest of republics, the
playground, his companions instinctively recog-
nized in him a leader.  There  that keen sense
of justice, which seemed to be  part and  parcel
of him, was  so conspicuous, that he was the
well-known  umpire in the boyish disputes of
his companions ; and we fondly recall the often-
used expression,' I'll leave it to Paul,' — an ar-
bitration which was, we believe, always assent-
ed to by the other party to the dispute;  and we
may add,  that we do not remember one case
where the equity  of his decision was  not  ac-
knowledged  and supported by  the majority of
his playmates.  The same justice that  he  ac-
corded to others, he demanded, always  firmly,
sometimes  sternly,  should  be shown to him.
This sense of justice was never in the least  de-
gree blunted ;  and we have yet to  meet the first
one who denied it  to him, — say, rather, who
did not cheerfully acknowledge it to be his.
  " He was the most manly  of men we have
ever known.   We never knew him to even  ap-
proach the doing of an unmanly or dishonora- 
202
ble act; but we have heard him stigmatize  the
doing  of such by others, even  when  by  his
speech he incurred considerable risk, and could
hope for no gain.
   " He was, too, one of the sweetest and most
cheerful-tempered men we ever met.  We have
never,  during  an  acquaintance of more than
twenty years, seen him so angry as to lose  his
self-control;  never, under the  most vexatious
circumstances, have known him to be peevish
or fractious :  but  we  have known him  when
the blood was cool,  after a  sharp controversy,
own to his adversary that probably he had, in
the heat of the moment, spoken more  harshly
than he meant, and ask his pardon ; which is of
so rare occurrence that it deserves to be recorded
of  him.  This  never-failing cheerfulness was
particularly  conspicuous  when  he languished
so many dreary months  in the prison at  Rich.
mond, after his  capture  at the battle of  Ball's
Bluff.  There  he exerted the utmost faculties
of  his mind  and  body to impart hope and
cheerfulness to his desponding companions in 
203
misfortune ; and when they were allowed, every
now and then, a brief space to breathe  a purer
air than that of their prison-house, he devoted
himself to running and leaping, and other ath-
letic exercises, that he might, as he said, retain
sufficient animal vigor to enable him to cheer
up the drooping ones around him.
  " We think we "speak the exact truth, when we
say, that, dying, he has not  left a single  enemy
behind him.
  " We have not thought to  write his  eulogy.
Let  that  be  done  by other  and  by abler
hands.  It  is  ours  only  to  condense  into
a few lines the thoughts that would fill a vol-
ume ; to say that we loved him, that we hon-
ored him, and  that he was worthy of any man's
or any  woman's love and  honor.   Playmates
at  school,  classmates   at  college,   friends
always,  we  always  found  him  true,  honest,
loyal,  and manly, and believe others have found
him the same." 
204
        FROM A BROTHER OFFICER
   " Paul had such a large circle of friends, that
I was only one of many; but I so valued his
friendship, that his loss will never be supplied to
me.   He was my beau ideal of the soldier, the
gentleman, and the man of character.  I have
every reason to know his virtues; for I saw him
under every form  of trial.  He  never did any
thing except from principle.   I  remember one
conversation we had together.  We were speak-
ing of the war and its consequences; and I was
regretting that the time was all lost to those who
did not intend to make  the  army their profes-
sion, but who had a name and place  to get  in
civil life.    ' Yes,' he  said, ' if this world were
all?  And I felt rebuked for my complaint.  He
added, that he thought this opportunity to stand
up for right and truth was something to be thank-
ful for;  that he was more grateful to his  grand-
father for the good  name he  handed  down  to
him than if  he had left him untold wealth.  He
felt that he owed it to his children to leave them 
205
a name that some day they might be proud of ;
and that these  sacrifices  and labors we were
making  were golden  opportunities,  and not
losses.   Such conversations between us were
not rare ;  and  can  you wonder that I deeply
felt the  influence, and now the  loss, of such a
friend ?  I know that those of us who  remain in
the army are liable  to meet a similar fate.  I
have often considered the  possibility  of it, and
I would  not  murmur if I knew it to  be  a cer-
tainty, could I be sure of leaving behind  me so
pure a record as that of Paul Revere."

EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS FROM AN  OFFI-
         CER IN THE TWENTIETH.
  " I wanted to  write and tell you how much we
all, and I in particular, missed your brother.  I
had never known him intimately till his return
the last time, when we  messed together, al-
though  peculiarly  attracted to him from first
acquaintance, by a certain similarity of taste for
outdoor  matters  and for woodland life,  which
he had so strong a relish for.  The  more I saw
           18 
206
of army matters and of him, the more I recog-
nized his  remarkable fitness for a leader, and
how he would have adorned a service which  so
often gives rather than receives a lustre.  Just as
in other walks of life, the army  shows its  share
of selfishness  and unworthy motives  ; but your
brother always seemed above all such aims, and
seemed to feel  the  necessity of elevating the
character  of  the profession.   He was always
considerate, thoughtful,  and moderate ; and I
always went  to  him, sure  that his  head and
heart would both give  their due weight to his
decisions.   We did not realize, till we had lost
him, how  much we were going  to  lose; but I
think, had he  lived, there would have been  no
limit to the distinction he might have  attained,
but in his  own ambition."

             FROM THE SAME.
  " I would have spent  six months in the old
Richmond jail, as  Paul Revere did, willingly, if
so I could have warded off  the  death  that too
surely took him  and Henry Ropes on the  2d 
207
and  3d.   Col.  Revere  lived  until  the  4th.
He was struck  by a canister-shot through the
lungs.    Both were  men of the very highest
type of calm,  principled bravery  that  New
England furnishes, and  the  very embodiment
of knightly and Christian  chivalry.  Revere
was  a  calm, thoughtful, judicious man, shrewd,
but  remarkably  straightforward  and  sincere.
He was a little reserved in manner, and some-
times stern in speech, but as kind as a woman.
Gen. Sumner's inspector-general, and a favorite
with him, shows his  calibre and tone.  There
seems  to be no limit to the usefulness in after-
life  of such  men as  Revere  and Ropes, with
their principles  and with their  natural talents
brought out and  sharpened, in the peculiar direc-
tion which army life gives."

              FROM THE SAME.
   " You remember Dr. Revere, — that he lost
his life by going to the very front, with the most
heroic self-devotion and  noble courage, and  the
most  brave  and chivalrous interpretation  of 
208
the orders  to  the  surgeons ?   Revere  was in
the midst of his humane work when he  fell."

             FROM A COUSIN.
                             July 16,  1863.
   " Dear, glorious Paul, with all life could give,
for him I feel no regret.   His beautiful spirit
has gone to a  brighter home.   His work was
done, his  discipline  complete; and his reward
could no longer be withheld.   But  for you • all
(for us all, for  I, too, had a  sense of right in
Paul, a  pride  in that he was, what  he was, a
dependence, that, when  need came, he would
help me as he had done) his departure seems a
gap  never to be made good, an emptiness and
desolation  that is  overwhelming to think of.
Human words seem empty, and mock this bitter
heartache at such  a time.   I can  only sorrow
for you, and hope  and pray God will send you
peace and help to bear this great burthen he
has seen best to lay upon you." 
209
                 Beverly Farms,  July 12, 1863.
   My dear Sir, — Mrs.  Sprague and  I  cannot
refrain from  expressing  to you and Mrs. Revere
our  heartfelt sympathy in  this your second great
bereavement.  We have known what it is to lose a
beloved son just entering upon manhood, and have
felt that grief which none but a parent can feel.
  You have every consolation which such an afflic-
tion admits.  Both your noble sons fell on the field
of successful battle, in a righteous cause, — a cause
of justice, freedom, and humanity, and all the bless-
ings of good government  If the prophet had lent
his  chariot of fire and  his  horses  of fire, their
ascent  could hardly have been  more glorious.
Their  names  will be  most honorably  associated
with the great battles of Antietam and Gettysburg,
and will be a noble inheritance  to their children
and grandchildren forever.  But we feel how feeble
are  even  these  consolations, and how little  an
affliction like yours can be alleviated by any con-
siderations which belong only to earth  and time.
Our consolations and hopes must  be drawn from
heaven and eternity, from the infinite but inscruta-
ble goodness of God.
              Most sincerely your friend,
           l8*                      P. Sprague. 
210
        NEW-YORK TRIBUNE, July 14, 1863.
   " The graceful,  gallant  Paul  Revere  has
fallen.  I have just returned from the funeral.
Owing  to  the shattered state of his father's
health,  broken by the fall of a second son in
this war,  the funeral  was  private  and  unan-
nounced ; but not even the fear of intruding kept
away the throng who would not suffer that the
favorite, the flower, of our noble youth, should
go to his grave unattended.
   " Paul  Revere  was  more  like  one of the
'gentle  knights' of Spenser's ' Fairy Queen ' (all
courtesy,  honor,  affection,  and  magnanimity)
than  like even the  worthiest, cleverest, and
bravest  of this generation ; handsome, sensitive,
affectionate, and  courteous, with  that kind of
courage which we call knightly, from our ideal of
the hero who dislikes and despises violence and
brute force for its own sake, but worships honor,
and cannot do or suffer or permit any thing that
conflicts with that, or that does injury to the just
rights or feelings of another.   At school, in col- 
211
lege, in society, around the family hearth, in the
camp, on  the field of battle, in prison  a host-
age  for threatened lives, he was  always the
same.  All  knew what he would do and say.
The highest and best was expected of him; and
he  always did  and  said  what  satisfied  the
noblest aspirations.
  " Col. Revere left more, and put more at risk,
than most men in  this war.  He had  wealth,
friends, favor, social  position,  the charm of a
young  wife  and newly-planted family hearth;
and he was drawn by  no attraction of public of-
fice or a political future.   Yet, with all his charm
and beauty, he has had a very hard lot in his mil-
itary life.  His first battle was the  disaster  of
Ball's Bluff, where his regiment (the Twentieth
Massachusetts, of which he was then  major) lost
heavily, and behaved nobly, and where so many
of his friends  fell  killed or wounded  around
him.   Then, for many months, he suffered the
weariness and disgust of close confinement in a
felon's cell at  Richmond,  where  he  and  his
colonel were held as hostages for the rebel pri- 
212
vateers, whom the United-States court had con-
victed as pirates,  knowing  that death by  the
hangman was his possible fate by the  news of
any day's mail.  After release  and exchange
came the campaign on the James  River, and
the well-fought fields, fevers, retreats, and evac-
uations.  The first successful battle, the first
gleam of sunshine, was at Antietam, where he
was on Gen.  Sumner's  staff, and complimented
for his gallantry;  but there he received a severe
wound, which gave him a long winter  of pain
and seclusion.  Scarcely  recovered, promoted
to the command of his  old regiment, the Twen-
tieth,  he receives  his death-wound in the first
successful battle of this campaign."

 THE CHRISTIAN  WITNESS AND CHURCH
         ADVOCATE, July 24, 1863.
  " Died from wounds received in the battle  of
Gettysburg, Paul Joseph Revere, colonel of the
Twentieth Massachusetts Regiment.
  " Born to  a heritage  of honorable memories
bequeathed him by actors in  the drama of our 
213
war  for independence,  Col.  Revere,  from the
start, gave himself to  the support  of our new
struggle for nationality.   True  always  to his
deliberate  convictions of  what the crisis de-
manded of him as a son of the republic, he has
now given  his  all to the holy cause  which  he
espoused; and few had more to give.   As major
of the Twentieth at Ball's Bluff, he bore  himself
with a coolness marked even among the brave
men who suffered on that perilous day, and in
the retreat, after all relief had  failed,  became a
prisoner.   Subjected to the rigors  of a Rich-
mond  prison,  and for several  months  put in
close and cruel confinement as a hostage for the
safety of  rebels in  the hands  of our  govern-
ment,  with all the  anxieties of  his  uncertain
position  he bore  himself with the  calmness
which was  always a quality of his  life.  Re-
leased, he returned to his  post,  and served with
his regiment in  the peninsular campaign.  He
came out from under the  wasting fires of some
of its most sanguinary days, wounded and with
impaired health, but with a new lustre of courage 
214
and conduct in the eyes of those with whom
he served.
  " Invited to Gen. Sumner's staff at Antietam,
exposed to the hottest fire in the division which
that day immortalized  itself  with victory, he
escaped death to fall in the  Friday's fight at
Gettysburg.
  " Col. Revere  was a man of singularly win-
ning  ways and  qualities.    Under  manners
almost  womanly  in  their gentleness and deli-
cacy, and a reserve with most men which was
almost  taciturn, he held a calm, resolute cour-
age, self-reliance,  and unwavering constancy in
behalf  of  any cause he felt  to  be right and
honorable.   Possessing the instincts of a gentle-
man, his intercourse with all was charitable and
gentle; and what he was he carried with him
into the scenes of war, where so much of the
best in men so often seems to disappear.
  " His is  a simple, an honorable, a most pa-
thetic  story.   Two sons lie  together  in our
Mount Auburn, — one who died at Antietam in
the  maddest hour of that terrible day, and one 
215
not quite a year after, dead in the  same army,
on the same soil of Maryland, in the same holy
cause.  The same sorrow falls upon  the same
hearts;  and the same cross must  be lifted up
again by men and women who miss in this life
the loyal, the brave, the  beloved.  So closes
another grave in peace, though the  end was
stormy.   May God give to those who bow over
it in agony his peace, and  may all,  who mourn,
find their friend in their Redeemer! "

     NEW-YORK HERALD, July 18, 1863.
  " Col. Revere, who died recently at. Gettys-
burg, Penn., from wounds received  at the battle
of Gettysburg, was a grandson of Paul Revere
of Revolutionary fame, and has been  connected
with  the army since  the  outbreak of the Re-
bellion.  At the  time he joined the  Twentieth
Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, he was
a resident of Boston,  and on the 1st of July,
1861, was elected its major.  The  regiment was
recruited in  Boston, and left the State Sept. 4,
 1861.   It bore a prominent part in the battle of 
2l6
Ball's Bluff, Oct. 21, 1861, during which  Major
Revere  was taken prisoner,  and confined for
months  as a hostage in a cell  in the Richmond
jail.   Major Revere  was finally released, and
returned to his regiment on  the peninsula on
the 1 st of May, 1862 ; and the  flag of thelVIassa-
chusetts Twentieth Volunteers was among those
that were planted on the fortification of York-
town, that  regiment  having  been among the
first to  advance  upon the works.  The  Twen-
tieth was next attached to Franklin's command,
and Major Revere took part in the affair of West
Point, May 7, 1862.   On  the 31st of May he
was engaged with the  re-enforcements sent to
the support of Gen. Casey's repulsed division,
and arrived on the field at about five, p.m.   The
regiment had been  placed  in readiness to
charge  upon the enemy, merely awaiting the
final order, when news came  that the enemy's
line  had been broken amid  great confusion.
He also took part in the seven-days' battles in
the latter end of June, 1862, but more espe-
cially at Savage's Station and Nelson's  Farm.
0 
217
 At the battle  of Malvern Hill, July i, the regi-
 ment took no active part, but was under fire all
 day.  It formed part of Hooker's reconnoitring
 force on  Aug. 4, and, during  the  evacuation
 of the peninsula, formed  a portion of the rear-
 guard.  During the retreat of Pope's army, the
 Twentieth held a position a few miles  beyond
 Fairfax  Court-house, and brought up the  rear
 of the column the  evening  of Sept. 1, 1862.
 From the commencement of  the  seven-days'
 contest until this date, Major Revere was acting
 lieutenant-colonel, the colonel being in command
 of a brigade.   About this time, Major  Revere
 was detached from the regiment, and  appointed
 assistant  inspector-general,  with the rank of
 lieutenant-colonel,  dating from Aug.  20, 1862.
 With this  rank and position he took part in the
 Maryland campaign, and in the battle of Antie-
 tam, where  he  was wounded,  and his brother,
 Dr.  E.  H. R.  Revere,  was  shot through the
 heart, and killed ; and in the battle  of Gettys-
 burg he received the wound which caused  his
death.   Col. Revere was noted for his  gal-
            's 
218
lantry and  daring, as well  as his military skill;
and his death will be greatly regretted not only
by his friends, but by every member of his  late
command." 
 
 
 
 
 
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