UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

'I pulled off my boots, and laid my sword, pistol, and belt 
 small board to push across."— P._i04. 
 
THE 
 
 YOUNG CAPTAIN: 
 
 A MEMOEIAL OP 
 
 CAPT. RICHARD C. DERBY, 
 
 FIFTEENTH REG. MASS. VOLUNTEERS, WHO FELL AT 
 ANTIETAM. 
 
 By MRS. P. A. HANAFORD. 
 
 V 
 
 «' Sans Changer." 
 Death is swallowed up in victory!" 
 
 BOSTON: ^'^ 
 
 IDEa-E3Sr, ESTES, &c CO. 
 
 NEW TORK: O. S. FELT. 
 
 1865. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 MRS. r. A. HANAFORD, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of MasBachusettf. 
 
 >; 333 
 
 o«o. c. RAKD &'~lr" 
 
 ITKRKOXTPKBS AKD PRIKTBR9. 
 
TO THE MEMBERS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Thirteenth ani Fifteenth legiments, 
 
 MASSACHUSFTTS VOLUNTEERS, 
 
 AlIU 
 
 TO ALL WHO LOVE THE 
 THIS MEMORIAL 
 
 OF 
 
 One who Qied in its Qefenoe 
 
 IS HOPEFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ^J^HE biographer of the gallant Adjutant 
 (J^ Stearns gives, in his opening para- 
 graph, the very reason why the follow- 
 ing pages should be presented to the 
 public. These are his words : — 
 " When a young man of promise has sud- 
 denly fallen in the presence of the nation and 
 in defence of its liberties, and all hope of 
 his future usefulness, in ordinary ways, has 
 been destroyed ; if there was any thing in his 
 character and life, or in the circumstances of 
 his death, which, if known, might be of bene- 
 fit to the world, that sensitiveness of friend- 
 ship could hardly be justified which should 
 withhold from his fellow-soldiers some fitting 
 memorial of him." 
 
 Justice and gratitude demand that I should 
 express here my obligation to the bereaved 
 
 V 
 
VI PREFACE, 
 
 mother of the young hero whose career of 
 probity and honor I have attempted to sketch, 
 for the efficient aid she has rendered by ar- 
 ranging materials, copying letters, and giving, 
 in her own well-chosen and eloquent words, 
 much information in regard to her son's life 
 and character. 
 
 To the Lbrary of the Essex Institute (in 
 Plummer Hall, Salem, Mass.) I am also great- 
 ly indebted for much valuable material which 
 is wrought into the following pages; and I 
 take this opportunity to express my sense of 
 the importance of that Association, and my 
 best wishes for its continued prosperity; and 
 also to thank all who in any way have aided 
 me in presenting to the countrymen of Wash- 
 ington and Franklin this memorial of the 
 stainless life and heroic death of a young 
 
 Patriot. 
 
 P. A. H. 
 Reading, Mass. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page. 
 Ancestry 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Birth-place and Childhood ....... 22 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 School-Days ... ..>.*.. M 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 In the Fab West 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 TiiK Young Volunteer » . . 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Antietam 160 
 
VIII CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Dust to Dust 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Poetical Tributes . , , , 217 
 
THE YOUNG CAPTAIN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ANCESTRY. 
 
 « They that on glorious ancestry enlarge 
 Produce their debt, instead of their discharge .'» 
 
 Young. 
 
 s^HE following pages are de- 
 signed as a memorial of 
 one who loved his country 
 well enough to die for it. 
 From the brevity of the 
 life of its subject, and the 
 ^ scarcity of materials in the 
 shape of'journals, letters, etc., this little 
 volume makes no pretension to anything 
 beyond being a sketch of the life of a 
 
 11 
 
12 ANCESTRY, 
 
 noble young man, ani a remembrancer 
 of a youthful patriot, who, because he has 
 died for his country, should live in the 
 hearts of his countrymen. 
 
 Believing with the biographer of the 
 lamented Chaplain Fuller that " to a rea- 
 sonable extent, family history forms a 
 legitimate introduction to a biography," 
 this chapter is devoted to an account of 
 the ancestry of the subject of this memo- 
 rial. Kev. Dr. Thompson in his Memoir 
 of the missionary Stoddard says, " The 
 biographer of the late Dr. Wardlaw has 
 these very sensible observations upon 
 the honor due to a worthy ancestry : 
 * There are some people who say they 
 attach no importance to a man*s descent 
 or to family honors, and despise those 
 who do. Perhaps they may be sin- 
 cere ; but I cannot help thinking their 
 judgment in this matter erroneous, and 
 
ANCESTRY, 13 
 
 their feeling unnatural. " The glory of 
 children," says the wisest of men, " are 
 their fathers ; " and I do not see why an 
 honorable descent should not be valued, 
 as well as any other blessing of Provi- 
 dence/ " 
 
 The Derby ancestors of the subject of 
 this sketch were among the noted men 
 of their times. The first of the family in 
 America was Eoger Derby, who was 
 born in England in 1643, and emigrated 
 to this country in 1671, removing from 
 Topsham, Devonshire County, near Exe- 
 ter, in the south of England, and landing 
 at Boston, July 18, 1671, according to 
 the town records of Salem, Mass. He re- 
 sided for a time in Ipswich, Mass., but as 
 he and his wife were non-conformists to 
 the church of England, and of the Socie- 
 ty called Friends, or Quakers, they were 
 subject to various petty persecutions for 
 
14 ANCESTRY. 
 
 trifling offences, till at last those fines, 
 etc., were too grievous to be endured, 
 and after ten years spent in Ipswich, 
 they removed to Salem. He was, like 
 the father of Dr. Franklin, a tallow chan- 
 dler. The maiden name of his wife was 
 Kilham. She died in 1689, but her hus- 
 band lived nine years longer. " Their 
 gravestones are yet standing, and bear 
 the most ancient inscriptions now to be 
 seen in the old burial-ground at South 
 Danvers.""^ Roger Derby had twelve 
 children, of whom the next ancestor of 
 our subject was the sixth, Richard 
 Derby, born in Ipswich, Oct. 8, 1679. 
 He was a son of the ocean ; but little is 
 now known of his personal history, ex- 
 cept that he was one of a number of 
 pilots sent from Salem in an expedition 
 against Port Royal in 1710. He mar- 
 
 • "Historical Collections of the Essex Irstitute,'' vol. 3. 
 
ANCESTRY. 15 
 
 ried Maria, daughter of Col. Elias Bas- 
 ket, who had been governor of New 
 Providence, one of the Bahama Islands. 
 Eight children were born to this couple, 
 of whom Kichard, born in Salem, Sept, 
 16, 1712, was the ancestor of our subject. 
 
 " He was an eminent and enterprising 
 merchant, and accumulated a large 
 amount of wealth." In his earlier years 
 he was, like his father, a mariner, and 
 was an intrepid and daring navigator. 
 " At a period when the mother country 
 tried to repress the enterprise of the col- 
 onists, and confine their trade to British 
 possessions ; when the straits were in- 
 fested by corsairs, we find this young 
 man venturing to cross the ocean in a 
 craft which would be deemed now 
 scarcely safe to run from Salem to New 
 York." 
 
 " During the struggle for the indepen- 
 
16 AXCESTRT. 
 
 dence of onr country, he continued 
 sound and loyal to the last ; and he it 
 was who bravely responded to the de- 
 mands of Col. Leslie to deliver up the 
 cannon in his possession, which Col. Les« 
 lie desired to seize. * Find them if you 
 can ! take them if you can ! they will 
 never be surrendered ! ' " * 
 
 His first wife was Marv Hodsres of Sa- 
 lem, by whom he had six children. ^ It is 
 said that the race from which she sprung 
 was distinguished for its size. An anec- 
 dote is told of one of them, a young man, 
 six feet six inches in height, who was 
 captured by a British frigate. When 
 asked if he was not remarkable for his 
 height at home, he is said to have re- 
 plied, • I am the shortest of six broth- 
 ers.' " Mrs. Mary Derby's son, John, was 
 the owner of the ship Columbia, which 
 
 • " Lives of AmericAn Merchant*," p. 20. 
 
ANCESTRY. 17 
 
 was the first to enter the Columbia 
 Eiver. The second wife of Capt. Rich- 
 ard Derby was Sarah, daughter of Dr. 
 Ezekiel Hersey, of Hingham. She sur- 
 vived her husband, and founded the 
 Derby Academy in her native place. 
 
 The second son of Capt. Richard and 
 Mrs. Mary Derby was the next ancestor 
 of our subject. His name was EHas Has- 
 ket Derby, and is remembered as one of 
 the most enterprising and successful 
 merchants of Salem. His son, of the 
 same name, prepared an extensive me- 
 moir of this pioneer in the East India 
 trade, which is published in Hunt's 
 *^ Lives of American Merchants." He 
 caused to be erected in Salem one of the 
 most elegant wooden mansions, at a cost 
 of $80,000 at the desire of his wife, and 
 a fine garden was attached to it, which 
 covered a large area, ending in a terrace 
 
IS AXCESTET. 
 
 overhanging the river. It was finished 
 in the very year of the owners' death, 
 Mrs. Derby dying in the Spring of 1799, 
 and her husband in the Fall. Thus " man 
 proposes and God disposes." 
 
 Mrs. Derby was Elizabeth Crownin- 
 shield, of Salem, and they had eight chil- 
 dren, one of whom was the mother of the 
 brave General Lander, and of his sisters, 
 the sculptor and the author. John, the 
 fourth child, was the next ancestor of our 
 subject. He was born in 1767, and was 
 graduated at Harvard College in 1786. 
 He was a successful merchant, and a Di- 
 rector of the Salem Marine Insurance 
 Company and of the Salem Bank. He 
 died of apoplexy, at the Salem postoffice, 
 while holding up his lantern to see if 
 there were letters in his box. He was 
 twice married : first, to Sally Barton, of Sa- 
 lem : and second, to Eleanor, daughter of 
 
ANCESTRY. |9 
 
 Dr. Nathaniel and Eleanor (Foster) CoF 
 fin, of Portland. This John Derby was the 
 grandfather of the subject of our sketch. 
 His father was Elias Ilasket Derby, third 
 son of the above-mentioned John Derby, 
 who was born Sept. 1, 1796 ; was a grad- 
 uate of Exeter Academy; was married 
 in November, 1829, to Miss Mary Ann 
 Allen, grand-daughter of Major General 
 Crane, of Canton, Mass. (The family of 
 Hon. Timothy Fuller, father of the Coun- 
 tess d'Ossoli and Chaplain Fuller, were 
 thus connected, as Hon. Mr. Fuller mar- 
 ried a daughter of Major Peter Crane, a 
 nephew of Gen. Crane.) One of Mr. E. 
 H. Derby's sisters married Hon. Eobert 
 C. Winthrop ; and another, Rev. Dr. Eph- 
 raim Peabody. One of his brothers is a 
 physician, and is now serving as surgeon 
 of the 23d Mass. Regiment. 
 
 Mr. Derby was for many years town 
 
20 ANCESTRY. 
 
 clerk of Medfield, where he was univer- 
 sally respected, and where he died in 
 December, 1840, leaving three children, 
 of whom the second is the young patriot. 
 
 With this sketch of his ancestry, con- 
 nections, and family antecedents before 
 him, the reader should be prepared to 
 lind the young patriot possessed of in- 
 trepid spirit, cultivated mind, pure princi- 
 ples, indomitable energy, and inflexible 
 purposes of loyalty to government, and 
 devotion to the right. Had his Quaker 
 ancestor, Roger, or his slave-holding an- 
 cestor, Richard (who bequeathed three 
 slaves to his children in 1783), looked 
 forward to the present day, they might 
 have been greatly shocked, as they 
 beheld their descendant, the young pa- 
 triot, pursuing his manly and heroic 
 course ; the one because he bore arms at 
 
ANCESTRY. 21 
 
 all, and the other because he drew his 
 sword for the overthrow of slavery, and 
 the establishment of universal liberty in 
 our land : but probably if the great prob- 
 lems of our day had been placed before 
 them, in the light of the Nineteenth Cen- 
 tury, they would have heartily approved 
 of the course taken by their descendant, 
 " the worthy son of noble sires." 
 
 The family crest of the Derbys is thus 
 technically described : " Derby, Earl of, 
 and Baron Stanley (Smith Stanley) on a 
 chapeau gu. turned up erm., an eagle, 
 wings endorsed, or feeding an infant in 
 its nest, ppr., swaddled oz, banded of the 
 third.'* The motto of the Derbys is the 
 same as one on the title page of this vol- 
 ume : viz., " Sans changer'' 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 BIRTU-PLACE AND CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ' Look up. my young Amcrioan ! 
 
 StAUd firmly ou the earth, 
 Wherf uoblo detnis and mout.il i\iwer 
 
 Give titles over birth.'- 
 
 Mus. Caroline Gilmax. 
 
 3^^ 
 
 r T seventeen miles 
 
 0.) southwest from the eity 
 ^^ V^^'^Ct^ of Boston, Mass., m a 
 
 •c,'^-^ picturesque rcixion oi 
 countrv, is the rural 
 
 t 
 
 town of Medfield. It 
 was formerly a part of 
 Dedliam, and was incorporated in IGolX 
 being then the forty-third town which 
 had secured the act of incorporation. 
 The soil is fertile, and is watered by 
 
 2:3 
 
Linrii-rLACE and cniLDiiooD. 23 
 
 Charles and Stop Rivers, the former 
 of which is pecuharly a meandering 
 stream. In this town, before slavery 
 was abolished in Massachusetts, there 
 were many victims of oppression, and 
 when the delusion of wi^hcraft sent 
 innocent men and women to the scaf- 
 fold, Medfield had her Goody Lincoln, 
 who was accused of evil influence. Here, 
 too, were the inhabitants exposed to tlie 
 assaults of the inhuman savages, who 
 loved to tomahawk our forefathers. On 
 a cold Monday morning, the 21st of Feb- 
 ruary, 1G76, the town was fired by hos- 
 tile Indians. At the first dawn of day, 
 they set about fifty buildings in a blaze. 
 The inhabitants sought refuge in the 
 garrisons, but some were shot down on 
 the way thither, and one, nearly a cen- 
 tury old, was consumed by the flames in 
 his own dwelling. There wore about 
 
24 JUnTH'I'LACK AXn CHILDHOOD. 
 
 five luuulivd liullans in this ongage- 
 luont, lod bv King Philip, the chief of 
 the Narragansots, who vodc an ologant 
 bhvok horso, luu] dirootod (he massacre. 
 
 Here, in this now qniet town, was 
 born llie snbject of this memorial, on 
 the tliird oi^ October, eighteen hnndred 
 and thirty-four. He was the second 
 child o( his parents, and had one sister 
 fonr years older than himself, and one 
 brother three years younger. The lat- 
 ter died when but live 3'ears of age, so 
 that for the most of his life the subject 
 of this memorial was an only son. 
 
 He wa^ named Eichard, and because 
 he was named for an uncle who had the 
 letter "0" added to distinguish him 
 from a relative who was also named 
 Eichard, the initial was also added to 
 bis nauie, but unlike the late Dr. Luther 
 Y Bell, Superintendent oi^ the McLean 
 
BIHTn-PLAfJIC AND CniLDlfOOD. 25 
 
 Asylum for the Insane, who adopted 
 the V in his name from a boyish fancy, 
 that he might sliow as many initials in 
 his signature as other boys,* he pre- 
 xirred, as he said, to be "plain Kichard 
 i)erby," and after the death of the rel- 
 atives mentioned usually dropped the 
 " C." 
 
 From his earliest childhood he was re- 
 markable for his obedience and docility, 
 combined with great dignity and matu- 
 rity of character. Ilis mother states, "I 
 do not remember that I ever had occa- 
 sion to reprove him more than three or 
 four times; chastisement it would have 
 been very unreasonable to apply to one 
 whose supreme concern it ever was to 
 hiov) hiH duty and to do it'' This is not 
 merely the record of maternal partiality. 
 Others who knew him in r.hildhood tes- 
 
 * Memoir of Dr. IJell. by Ilev. Dr Kills. Pa^'e 7. 
 
26 BIRTH-PLACE AND CHILD HOOD. 
 
 tify to his gentle manners and noble 
 nature. He always spoke the truth, 
 cost what it might, and having early 
 learned how to keep a secret, no threats 
 or coaxing could induce him to reveal 
 what he was in honor bound to con- 
 ceal. His earliest Sabbath-school teach- 
 er speaks of him as one in whom there 
 seemed to be no guile, and confirms the 
 impression of those who knew him only 
 in after life, that he was "an Israelite 
 indeed;" one in whom the religious 
 element was largely developed, and who 
 early learned to walk in wisdom's ways, 
 and found them paths of pleasantness 
 and peace. On one occasion he was at 
 the residence of this teacher, — a large, 
 old-fashioned mansion, built in 1690, 
 and to him a favorite place of resort,— 
 and so sweet was his voice, so charming 
 his prattling intercourse, that his teacher 
 
BIRTH-PLACE AND CHILDHOOD. 27 
 
 took up her pen, and wrote, almost re- 
 gretfally, a sentiment suggested by 
 them. " My childhood never- knew 
 those sweet tones of innocence, which 
 strike upon the ear with such thrilling 
 interest from that little guileless heart," 
 the circumstance of her writing the sen- 
 timent fixing indelibly the hour and her 
 infantile companion's tones, so that, al- 
 though more than a quarter of a cen- 
 tury has elapsed, she still listens to their 
 ^olian music with the ear of memory. 
 
 At the time of his father's decease, 
 which occurred when Richard was but 
 six years of age, he spent three months 
 in the city of Salem with his father's 
 relatives, and every summer afterward, 
 during his childhood, he passed some 
 weeks in delightful intercourse with 
 those endeared friends; and they now 
 hold him, as a boy especially, in delight- 
 
28 BIRTH-PLACE A.VD CHILDHOOD. 
 
 ful remembrance. Under their auspices, 
 he gambolled on the shore of old Ocean, 
 visited the wharves of tliat ancient sea- 
 port, and 's\'atched with ever-increasing 
 interest the in-comino; bark freio'hted 
 with wealth from the Indies, or the out- 
 ward-bound ship loosing from her moor- 
 ings, in order to speed away in search 
 of that wealth. 
 
 Those with whom these early days 
 were spent still remember with pleas- 
 ure his unfolding character, the bud 
 which had such beautiful promise of 
 beaut}^ as a llower. One of them thus 
 wrote to his mother, after his earthly 
 career was ended : " It is true, our 
 knowledge of him had especial refer- 
 ence to the season of childhood, but he 
 then gave evidence of so much charac- 
 ter and nobility of soul, that we expected 
 from him the brave, resolute, and worthy 
 
BIRTH-PLACE AND CHILVHOOl). 29 
 
 manhood which his short span of life 
 has so entirely realized." 
 
 In general society, during his early 
 days, Richard was modest to a degree 
 that bordered on bashfulness, and some- 
 times so silent that he might often be 
 thought inattentive, yet nothing escaped 
 his observation. Few possessed a more 
 penetrating eye to discern the charac- 
 ter of those around him, and his youth- 
 ful associates were almost instinctively 
 chosen from among the better portion 
 of the boys and girls in his vicinity. 
 There was a peculiar naturalness about 
 him, and he abhorred affectation in 
 others. 
 
 As we have seen, a portion of hi;^ 
 childhood was passed in Medfield, sev- 
 eral happy summers in Salem, and the 
 later years of his boy-life in the rural 
 village of West Newton ; all of them 
 
30 BIRTH-PLACE AND CHILDHOOD. 
 
 places of interest to the nascent spirit 
 which was endowed with a dear love 
 of Nature, and early perceived 
 
 " Tongues In the trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermon* in stones, and good in every thing." 
 
r^. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 " A mind rejoicing in the light 
 
 Which melted through its graceful bower, 
 ■deaf after leaf serenely brigfit, 
 And stainless in its holy white, 
 Unfolding like a morning flower." 
 ~ Whittier. 
 
 S may be well sup- 
 posed, Richard was al- 
 ways tractable in school, 
 a pupil after his teacher's 
 own heart. His earliest 
 school-days were passed 
 in some of those com- 
 mon schools which are the pride and 
 glory of New England. At the age of 
 fourteen he entered the Lawrence Acade- 
 
 31 
 
32 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 my in Crotoii, as a pupil, where lie re- 
 mained three and a half years. 
 
 That the intluenees around him may 
 be better understood, it may be Avell to 
 refer to the town in which he then re- 
 sided. It dates from 1665, and was 
 probably named by the son oi^ Gov. 
 Winthrop (to whom and others it was 
 set apart), from the town in England 
 whenee the Winthrop family came. At 
 the time of its settlement, Groton had 
 its share oi^ Indian depredations. In 
 1676, it was assaulted by the warlike 
 red men, about four hundred in number, 
 and the inhabitants w^ere obliged to re- 
 ti'eat into live garrisoned houses. The 
 others wxM'e set on fire by the savages. 
 A few months after, the leader, John 
 Moneeo, was, taken, and hanged in Bos- 
 ton. Groton, then, had its history, and 
 the ima dilation of the youthful student 
 
SCHOOL- DA YS, 
 
 was doubtless often kindled by the asso- 
 ciations of the past, awakened by visit- 
 ing spots where the Indians once dis- 
 played their savage ferocity. 
 
 "No place could be better calculated 
 than Groton to have an effect on the 
 mind of a youth predisposed to the 
 influences of Nature. It is a town of 
 much beauty, though that is generally 
 of a quiet character, and more calculated 
 to convey dreamy impressions than to 
 rouse thought into a duty." "^ 
 
 Here Richard read and studied, both 
 in school and out of school, for " the 
 work of education is not confined to the 
 school-house. It goes on at all times, 
 from the day of one's birth to the day 
 of one's death. It is most vigorous in 
 childhood, because care does not habitu- 
 ally ride with us. But the school -mas- 
 
 • Life of Amos Lawrence. 
 
34 SCHOOL-DATS, 
 
 ter is then literally abroad, and has as 
 many shapes as places ; the face of ex- 
 ternal nature, the great utterances of 
 the forest, the changing aspects of the 
 heavens, the babbling of brooks, the 
 opening of the pond-lilies on those 
 beautiful sheets of water to which they 
 are as pearls on the bosom of beauty, 
 the sighing of the night-winds, — these, 
 and a thousand other things that might 
 be named, have as much to do with the 
 formation of character as matters of 
 more scientific description." * 
 
 And all these did their work in ed- 
 ucating young Derby. Besides these, 
 he had the efficient aid of competent 
 -teachers in the Groton Academy. This 
 flourishing institution "dates its origin 
 from a joint-stock organization formed 
 for the purpose on the 27th of April, 
 
 * Amos Lawrence's Memoirs. 
 
SCHOOL-DA YS. 35 
 
 1793. Five pounds constituted a share 
 of this stock. Three hundred and 
 twenty-five pounds were raised by sub- 
 scriptions, or shares, taken by forty-four 
 individuals, all of whom were inhab- 
 itants of Groton, except four, who were 
 citizens of Pepperell." The academy 
 was incorporated September 25th, 1793, 
 and in November was opened for pupils. 
 In 1797, the General Court gave it one- 
 half a township of land in Maine, — about 
 11,520 acres, — which subsequently sold 
 for fifty cents per acre. 
 
 The well-known merchant-princes of 
 Boston by the name of Lawrence, were, 
 some of them, educated here, and in 
 I after years liberally endowed the insti- 
 tution. 
 
 A son of the celebrated Kev. Dr. Ly- 
 man Beecher — Kev. Geo. Beecher — 
 was once a teacher in this academy. 
 
36 SCHOOL-DATS. 
 
 At the time when Richard was a pupil 
 there, it was under the care of Rev. 
 James Means, a graduate of Bowdoin 
 College, and a man of much ability. 
 (He afterward served as a Hospital Chap- 
 lain in New Berne, N. C. ; and died, while 
 in the service of his country, in 1863.) 
 
 Of this academy Mr. Means once said, 
 at a public meeting in Groton, " Situated 
 as this institution now is, with its large 
 funds, extensive library, handsome phil- 
 osophical and other apparatus for in- 
 struction, in a flourishing country vil- 
 lage of more than a hundred fine dwell- 
 ing-houses, surrounded with some of 
 the richest and best cultivated lands in 
 the Commonwealth, enjoying an unri- 
 valled western prospect, bounded by 
 the grand Monadnock, petit Monad- 
 nock, Watatuck, and Wachusett, and 
 embracing the smaller hills of Mason, 
 
SCHOOL-DATS. 37 
 
 Temple, New Ipswich, and Ashby, with 
 the villages of Ashby, Lunenburg, and 
 Shirley, in the view, it must necessarily, 
 under the prudent and judicious manage- 
 ment of an efficient board of trustees 
 and learned and well-qualified instruct- 
 ors, take an elevated position among 
 the seminaries of New England." 
 
 When Eichard entered this academy, 
 it w\as with the intention of fitting for 
 college ; but, when his course was near- 
 ly completed, his health failed, and for a 
 time he was obliged to suspend all 
 study » and finally his friends concluded 
 he had better direct his attention to a 
 mercantile career. He had not been 
 idle, however ; and was already far ad- 
 vanced in his studies. Latin and French 
 he read easily ; and his teacher was wont 
 to say playfully to him, that he had more 
 
38 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 Greek verbs in his bead than any otber 
 pupil. 
 
 After a long vacation for rest and 
 to recover bealtb, he again sought his 
 books, and in 1850 went to Northbor- 
 ough, where he became a pupil of Rev. 
 Dr. Joseph Allen, a man of saint-like 
 piety, and a Christian teacher in that 
 town for more than forty-seven years. 
 Here Richard's soul expanded, while 
 his intellect was also fed. In the ge- 
 nial society of his teacher and that 
 teacher's family, ••' his early religious in- 
 struction was more and more like seed 
 springing up. Favoring breezes here 
 more swiftly wafted his soul toward the 
 Saviour; and so much of his Master's 
 spirit did he imbibe, that he was pro- 
 nounced the lovclied scholar ever in 
 that family. 
 
 * Dr. Allen's wife is a sister of the excellent Mary L. Ware. 
 
SCHOOL-DATS. 39 
 
 After his death, the daughter of Dr. 
 Allen, who was Richard's teacher in 
 French, thus wrote to his mourning 
 mother : " Nothing but what is sweet 
 and pleasant can ever remain associ- 
 ated in our minds with him ; and to us, 
 as well as to you, his memory will be 
 one of the precious things this life has 
 given us." 
 
 In early childhood he had been conse- 
 crated to God by the Rev. Dr. E Pear 
 body, of King's Chapel, Boston, who 
 was his uncle ; and Richard seemed, 
 while yet a youth, to have chosen the 
 better part. 
 
 It is a matter of regret that no rec- 
 ords in his own hand-writing remain to 
 testify in regard to his school-days ; but 
 they were certainly very happy ones, 
 and were well improved. 
 
 The town of Northborough, where he 
 
40 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 was residing when a pupil with Dr. 
 Allen, lies in a beautiful valley, be- 
 tween the highlands of Marlborough on 
 the east, and those of Shrewsbury and 
 Boylston on the west. This town, too, 
 had its early colonial history; and the 
 grave of an unfortunate young woman, 
 who was scalped by the Indians while 
 she was gathering herbs in a meadow 
 near the garrison-house, is still to be 
 seen. Here, no doubt, Eichard stood, 
 and pondered over the merciless cruel- 
 ties of those copper-colored barbarians. 
 
 After leaving Northborough, Richard 
 studied book-keeping at Comer's Com- 
 mercial College ) and soon after entered 
 the wholesale store of Plympton, Ste- 
 venson, & Co., in Boston, where he re- 
 mained nearly four years. 
 
 Before closing this chapter on the 
 school-days of the young patriot, it 
 
SCHOOL-DATS. 41 
 
 may be well to state, that among his 
 instructors he had, for a short time, 
 the privilege of numbering that first 
 "teacher of teachers" in America, Rev. 
 Cyrus Pierce, — better known to his 
 loving pupils everywhere as " Father 
 Pierce." Here was a mind he could 
 but respect, a heart he could but love ; 
 and, under his tuition, Richard not only 
 grew in earthly wisdom, but in spiritual 
 stature. Father Pierce's one rule — par 
 excellence — was, " Live to the truth ! " 
 and never had he a pupil who was 
 more willing to adopt it, and make it 
 the purpose of his life. 
 
 Another teacher whom Richard great- 
 ■ly esteemed was Nathaniel T. Allen, still 
 the able and successful teacher of youth 
 in West Newton, Mass., Mr. Allen's la- 
 bors for the advancement of young 
 Derby were doubtless '-con amove;'' for 
 
42 SCHOOL-DAYS. 
 
 he \voll remomberoil, ami soiuotimos 
 gmtofully refoiTod io, the time >vliou 
 he was liimsolt* a pupil in tho IVible 
 class of l\ioIiarii's lather, ^^llOlu ho stil.^ 
 proiunmoos ono of the host Sabbath 
 School teachers he over knew. 
 
 Thus inucli oi^ Eichanrs schools ana 
 teachers. But above all was he tanu'lit 
 of God ; and his school-days were not 
 only days of intellectual progress, but 
 of moral and spu'itual advancement. 
 lie drank deep at the Pierian spring, 
 but he drank no less deeply at the 
 fountain of living water; and thus his 
 school-days were such as to promote 
 his future usefulness and honor. 
 
 Mention should here be made oi^ his 
 skill as a taxidermist, and also in sketch- 
 nig and in the use of carpenters' tools. 
 His knowledire was not book-kuowledii;e 
 alone, lie earlv learned to sketch with 
 
BCnOOL-DA YS. 43 
 
 crayons; and family tradition states, that 
 at an early ago lie was often found 
 stretched on, the parlor floor, diligently 
 sketching until he had produced a large 
 and excellent picture of a fire engine, 
 which is now framed, and adorns his 
 mother's parlor, a proof of artistic abili- 
 ties of no common order. 
 
 Specimens of his skill as a taxider- 
 mist arc evident in the same parlor, 
 where a blue jay and other small birds 
 stufled by him are seen ; and a large 
 loon, shot by him on Charles River in 
 1855, has a place there also, in a glassed 
 box prepared by himself, the bird being 
 placed in a natural position on a mirror 
 surface, which gives the effect of water. 
 Uq labelled it as the "Great Northern 
 Diver" (Colymbus Glacialis). 
 
 lie was so expert in using tools, that 
 he ma/Ie for himself a bookcase while 
 
44 SCHOOL-DA TS. 
 
 in Grotoii; and an inlaid checkerbcard 
 and other articles, especially a handsome 
 knife-tray, bear evidence to his unusual 
 dexterity. 
 
 He loved music, and was somewhat 
 skilled in playing the flute. Often at 
 night he would ask his niece to play on 
 the piano, and sing, "Do they miss me 
 at home ? " and he would accompany her 
 with his silvery-toned flute ; and, when 
 away from home, he often requested 
 that the same sweet song might be 
 sung in memory of the far-off, only son. 
 
CHAPTEK ly. 
 
 IN THE FAR WEST. 
 
 " I travel, like a bird of flight, 
 Onward, and all alone." Montgomery. 
 
 " There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; 
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore ; 
 There is society, where none intrudes, 
 
 By the deep sea, and music in its roar. 
 I love not man the less, but Nature more, 
 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal 
 From all I may be, or have been before, 
 To mingle with the universe, and feel 
 What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal." 
 
 Byron's Childe Harold. 
 
 AYING from early life cher- 
 ished a desire to visit our 
 Western country, young 
 Derby readily accepted 
 the oifer of salesman in 
 the store of Clinton, Bab- 
 bitt, & Co., Beloit, Wiscon- 
 sin. This was a retail establishment for 
 the sale of dry-goods. 45 
 
46 I2i THE FAR WEST. 
 
 Wearying of this rather monotonous 
 employment, and still eager to see more 
 of the great and growing West, he deter- 
 mined to relinquish his situation, give up 
 all indoor business, and seek in the wilds 
 of Minnesota, amid the rough scenes and 
 labors of border life, the health and 
 strength which is so desirable. Exercise, 
 he presumed, would strengthen his phys- 
 ical frame ; and industry, he supposed, 
 would supply -his wants, and perhaps 
 sooner fill his purse if exerted in that 
 direction than in any other. 
 
 As to the only son of Mrs. Sigourney, 
 " the broad, green West was to him the 
 star of promise ; " and as that " Faded 
 Hope " exclaimed once, " Mothei', if you 
 tvill permit me to have my grandfather's 
 lands in Indiana, I will make a fine liv- 
 ing from them, and take care of you ; " * 
 
 ♦ " The Faded Hope," by Mrs. L. II. Sigourney, page 215. 
 
IN THE FAR WEST. 47 
 
 SO young Derby often spoke of winning 
 wealth from the prairie lands, to lay at 
 the feet of those he loved at home. 
 
 On those boundless prairies he expe- 
 rienced a sense of freedom which was 
 delightful, and the pure, healthy atmos- 
 phere was inhaled with intense satisfac- 
 tion. Always prompt to communicate 
 with his friends at home, he wrote to 
 them many glowing descriptions of the 
 beautiful scenery of Minnesota. Some- 
 times he would vividly depict a prairie 
 on fire, so that one could almost hear the 
 crackling of the dried grass as it was rap- 
 idly mowed down by the devouring 
 flames, and sec the forked tongues of tlie 
 enemy as he advanced ; or by night be- 
 hold a belt of fire all along the horizon, 
 and see, above, the dark mass of clouds 
 which overhung them as an immense 
 pall by day, assuming a horrible, lurid 
 glare. 
 
48 m THE FAR WEST. 
 
 Sometimes he would speak of sunsets 
 gloriously beautiful. You could almost 
 see, as you read his letters, the orb of 
 day descending the western sky, till at 
 last the fiery circle disappeared, leaving 
 a golden and amber ocean where it had 
 been, while the evening shadows would 
 begin to creep over his forest home. 
 The eminences around would retain the 
 brightness of the sunset hour for a sea- 
 son, then blaze up like an altar flame ; 
 and then the glory would depart with 
 the dying day, as the twilight hastened 
 on, and the stars came out in the slowly 
 darkening heavens. 
 
 Anon he would refer to terrific storms 
 which swept around his Western home, 
 when the lightnings would flash with un- 
 usual brightness, and the thunder roll in 
 long, continuous peals, such as he seemed 
 never to have heard before. 
 
IN THE FAR WEST, 49 
 
 While in Minnesota, Richard built a 
 log hut, with his own hands, upon gov- 
 ernment land which he had secured for 
 himself. During a part' of his sojourn 
 in this hut, he was alone ; but he knew 
 no fear, and was contented and happy. 
 President Stearns says of his noble son, 
 whose Hfe, like Richard's, was given a 
 sacrifice for his country, that while on a 
 voyage taken for his health, " out in the 
 solemn solitudes of the ocean, where he 
 could often be alone with the great deep, 
 and the clouds, and the blue expanse, 
 and the starry night, and the storms, and 
 the Maker of them all, he consecrated 
 himself anew to Christ, and learned that 
 • believing was simply trusting.' " * 
 
 From Richard's letters to the home 
 circle, and from verbal communications 
 made after his return, there is reason to 
 
 * "Adjutant Stearns," page 39. 
 
50 /iVr THE FAR WEST. 
 
 believe that a similar quickening of his 
 spirit took place while out amid those 
 Western solitudes. As Headley says, out 
 there " a man cannot move or look 
 without thinking of God ; for all that 
 meets his eye is just as it left his mighty 
 hand. The old forest, as it nods to the 
 passing wind, speaks of him ; the still 
 mountain points toward his dwelling- 
 place ; and the calm lake reflects his sky 
 of stars and sunshine. The glorious sun- 
 set and the blushing dawn, the gorgeous 
 midnight and the noon-day splendor, 
 mean more in these solitudes than in the 
 crowded city. Indeed, they look differ- 
 ent : they are different." '^' 
 
 ' Earnestly alive to Nature's sights and 
 sounds, Richard could have echoed the 
 same writer's words as he wrote, " I love 
 Nature and all thiniirs as God made them. 
 
 o 
 
 ♦ " The Adirondack," by Rev. J. T. Headley, page 193. 
 
7JV^ THE FAR WEST. 51 
 
 1 love the freedom of the wilderness, and 
 the absence of conventional forms there. 
 I love the long stretch through the forest 
 on foot, and the thrilling, glorious pros- 
 pect from some hoary mountain-top. I 
 love it ; and I know it is better for me 
 than the thronged city; ay, better for 
 
 soul and body both I believe 
 
 that every man degenerates without fre- 
 quent communication with Nature. It is 
 one of the open books of God, and more 
 replete with instruction than anything 
 ever penned by man." "^ 
 
 As already stated, Richard loved the 
 sounds of the country, as well as its 
 sights of beauty and solemnity; and could 
 he have met with the following descrip- 
 tion of one thing which he enjoyed, he 
 would certainly have quoted it as a rec- 
 
 ♦ Ibid., page 1G7. 
 
62 JN THE FAR WEST. 
 
 ord of his own experience, and said, "But 
 there is one kind of forest music I love 
 best of all : it is the sound of wind amid 
 the trees. I have lain here by the hour, 
 on some fresh afternoon, when the brisk 
 west wind swept by in gusts, and listened 
 to it. All is comparatively still, when, 
 far away, you catch a faint murmur, like 
 the dying tone of an organ w^ith its stops 
 closed, gradually swelling into clearer 
 distinctness and fuller volume, as if gath- 
 ering strength for some fearful exhibi- 
 tion of its power; until, at length, it 
 rushes like a sudden sea overhead, and 
 everything sways and tosses about you. 
 For a moment, an invisible spirit seems 
 to be near ; the fresh leaves rustle, and 
 talk to each other; the pines and the 
 cedar whisper ominous tidings; and the 
 silence again slowly settles on the forest. 
 A short interval only elapses when the 
 
IN THE FAR WEST, 53 
 
 murmur, the swell, the rush, and the 
 retreat, are repeated. If you abandon 
 yourself entirely to the mfluence, you 
 soon are lost in strange illusions. I have 
 lain, and listened to the wind moving 
 thus among the branches, till I fancied 
 every gust a troop of spirits, whose tread 
 over the bending tops I caught afar, and 
 whose rapid approach I could distinctly 
 measure. My heart would throb, and 
 pulses bound, as the invisible squadrons 
 drew near, till, as their sounding chariots 
 of air swept swiftly overhead, I ceased 
 listening, and turned to looJc, Thus, troop 
 after troop, they came and went on their 
 mysterious mission, waking the solitude 
 into sudden life as they passed, and 
 filling it with glorious melody." '^ 
 
 A few years previous, the free West 
 
 * " The Adirondack, or Life in the Woods," by Rev. J. T. Head* 
 ley, page 198. 
 
54 m THE FAR WEST. 
 
 was the home, for a season, of Rev. 
 Arthur B. Fuller, the dear friend of the 
 young patriot ; and, since both have 
 become accepted sacrifices on the altar 
 of their country, this oneness of Western 
 experience, ere the exciting experiences 
 of camp life, has been noticed as an inter- 
 esting coincidence. It is said of Chap- 
 lain Fuller, that, in the Far West, "his 
 delight in Nature could be amply grati- 
 fied as he rode over the level or rolling 
 prairie, with its beautiful flowers nodding 
 among the verdure, its occasional park, 
 and its broad horizon, regaled by the 
 melodious songster, the long-drawn strain 
 of the turtle-dove, the clouds of pigeons, 
 like the arrows of Persia, darkening the 
 sun, and made romantic too, and even 
 dangerous, by the prowling packs of ra- 
 pacious wolves ; " * and the same could 
 
 * Memoir of Chaplain Fuller, page 58. 
 
IN THE FAB WEST. 55 
 
 be said in regard to the subject of this 
 memorial. 
 
 His hut was no savage wigwam : but 
 though he had to cut down the trees 
 himself to clear a spot for it to stand 
 upon, and then reared it himself, it was a 
 comfortable, civilized-looking tenement; 
 and he arranged his simple furniture in 
 an orderly and even tasteful manner, 
 having with him books, pictures, and 
 other signs of a refinement not always to 
 be found in the wilderness. 
 
 A beautiful lake w^as included in the 
 region of which he was owner ; and, as it 
 stretched away from the land immediate- 
 ly in front of his cabin, he used to say it 
 would be his door-yard forever. Not 
 fancying its Indian name, he changed it 
 for that of a favorite niece ; and it is now 
 known on the maps of that vicinity as 
 Lake Manuela. Here, in his lowly home 
 
56 /iV THE FAR WEST. 
 
 by the lake-side, he spent his time in a 
 manner congenial to his rural tastes, 
 daily studying and enjoying Nature in 
 all its wildness, fishing in the clear 
 waters of his own sylvan lake, or rousing 
 the timid deer and dangerous bear in 
 the pathless forests or along the water- 
 courses. When wearied with the hunt, 
 or exhausted with his efforts as an 
 angler, he would return to his little cot- 
 tage, and " under his own vine and fig- 
 tree, with none to molest or make him 
 afraid," he would study books as he had 
 just before studied Nature, earnestly, at- 
 tentively, and with a relish which beto- 
 kened " a sound mind in a sound body." 
 Nor did he forget to do good as one of 
 the ways in which he would get good. 
 Many miles from civilization, with him- 
 self, he found a family of poor children 
 with no means for education ) and a por- 
 
IN THE FAR WEST. 57 
 
 tion of each week he spent in instructing 
 them in the rudiments of knowledge, 
 while with each returning Sabbath he 
 proved himself still faithful to his God 
 and Savior by calling their attention to 
 the high truths of the gospel, and ear- 
 nestly sought to win them to holiness 
 and heaven. Often during his brief life 
 was he seen as a teacher in some flour- 
 ishing New-England sabbath school ; but 
 never was he more truly engaged in his 
 Master's service than when he threaded 
 those secluded woodland paths in holy 
 time, far from the " church-going bell," to 
 meet those young immortals, and care 
 for their spiritual good. Angels must 
 have looked with serene satisfaction on 
 such a self-imposed labor of love ; and the 
 dear Lord himself awaited his disciple 
 with the words, " Inasmuch as ye did it 
 unto one of the least of these, ye did it 
 unto me." 
 
58 7iV THE FAR WEST. 
 
 This poor family were from " the 
 father-land of thought/' and with their 
 German accent the little ones would 
 call out joyfully, when they saw their 
 benefactor approaching, — " Mr. Tierhy 
 is coming! Mr. Tierhj is coming!" 
 
 They were in circumstances of great 
 poverty, sharing none of the luxuries, 
 and few of the comforts, of civilization. 
 Knowing the German custom of cele- 
 brating Christmas, Mr. Derby thought 
 he would surprise them one Christmas 
 Eve. So he sent to his Eastern friends 
 for a variety of small articles \ prepared a 
 tree, and hung it with the presents \ enjoy- 
 ing greatly the intense satisfaction with 
 which his efforts were received. He 
 knew all his life long, by a joyful ex- 
 perience, the truth of those words of 
 the Lord Jesus : " It is more blessed to 
 give than to receive." 
 
IN THE FAB WEST. 59 
 
 The visits of Indians to his lonely 
 hilt should not be unnoticed. His hab- 
 itation was in Meeker County, and the 
 Sioux and Chippewas were the Indians 
 who most frequently visited him. The 
 Chippewas are now few in number, — 
 only five families in 1854. They held 
 thirteen sections of land, and drew a 
 perpetual annuity from our Govern- 
 ment of three hundred dollars. The 
 Sioux tribe is much larger, and em- 
 braces many others. These Indians 
 whom Richard saw were peaceably 
 disposed; but he could not look upon 
 these red men of the forest, and re- 
 member that they were melting away 
 before the white race, without some 
 emotions of regret. They have, some 
 of them, noble traits, and the rights of 
 all should be respected; but they are 
 destined to piss away before a higher 
 
60 IN THE FAR WEST. 
 
 civilization, and soon the mountains and 
 forests which their wandering feet alone 
 have trodden will know them no more 
 forever. They will live only in th^ 
 memories of their successors, as the 
 euphonious names they have given to 
 lake and shore and highland shall be 
 uttered by the lips of a seemingly 
 higher type of humanity, and fall upon 
 ears that shall hear in those names the 
 faint and far-off echo of the past, — the 
 voice of the Great Spirit bidding them 
 remember his copper-colored children, 
 and be sure that they walk in the 
 light of the truth, or they also may 
 pass away. 
 
 Eighteen months did Richard linger 
 in the forest home he had chosen, and 
 then the attractions of his childhood's 
 home grew too strong to be resisted. 
 He returned to New England, met the 
 
IN THE FAR WEST. 61 
 
 anticipated hearty welcome, and spent 
 the winter amid the comforts and lux- 
 uries of his early days. 
 
 In the spring came an urgent call 
 to the West again. One of the gen- 
 tlemen by whom he was formerly em- 
 ployed wished his assistance in a dry- 
 goods store in Wisconsin. He once 
 more set his face toward the setting 
 sun, to his mother's regret, but with 
 her blessing. By an unexpected mer- 
 cantile change, he was thrown out of 
 employment, and induced to return 
 again to his log-cabin, and to resort to 
 hunting and trapping in Minnesota 
 through the winter. At this time he 
 was not alone, but had the pleasant 
 company of two young men from New 
 England, to whom he became warmly 
 attached 
 
 He never forgot his home friends, 
 
62 IN THE FAR WEST, 
 
 even when forest life was a novelty to 
 him ; and during this winter he used to 
 walk ten miles every week to the near- 
 est post-town, where he always deposited 
 a letter directed to friends at home, and 
 never failed to find one awaiting his ar- 
 rival from the same source. The remem- 
 brance of the delightful correspondence 
 he always continued with his loved ones 
 at home now adds to the poignancy of 
 their grief at his loss. 
 
 While residing in Wisconsin with his 
 friend Mr. Babbitt, he was accustomed to 
 attend the Episcopal Church, and was 
 an interested member of a Bible class in 
 the Sabbath School. 
 ' It is greatly to be regretted that his 
 letters from the West are not now to 
 be found. His friends used to tell him 
 they ought to be published; but he, 
 laughingly, advised that they should 
 
/j\^ THE FAR WEST. 63 
 
 be used to make lamplighters. His 
 journals, sketches, etc., were all sealed 
 up by himself, when he went out to 
 battle for the Eight, with the request, 
 that, if he fell, they should be burned 
 without opening; which was faithfully 
 done. 
 
 Two letters, only, relating to his West- 
 ern life are to be found. In one of 
 these, with a characteristic desire to 
 assure his friends that he was comfort- 
 able, he has sketched the ground plan 
 of his log-cabin, and proved that he 
 has things " well arranged ; " and he 
 humorously relates to his sister his ad- 
 ventures as a cook, thus : " I'm glad 
 to hear that Mary holds out so well : 
 she's a wonderful girl ! I've thought 
 of her a great deal the last twenty- 
 four hours, for I've made a batch of 
 Indian meal bread. I brought up a 
 
64 IN THE FAR WEST. 
 
 package of yeast cakes, and last night 
 I thought I would try my hand at 
 some yeast bread. I left the receipt 
 at Mrs. Cooper's, but I remembered it 
 near enough. I had splendid luck. It 
 was as light as any of yours, and not 
 sour. But there's nothing like a cov- 
 ered iron pot to make a nice crust ! " 
 
 The other letter — to his mother — is 
 less "matter-of-fact," and after speak- 
 ing of a variety of family matters, he 
 says, " A Boston dry-goods drummer staid 
 here (in Beloit, Wis.) last Friday, and 
 I had a long talk with him about Min- 
 nesota. He had just been through the 
 Territory, and was very much pleased 
 with the country, the people, business, 
 and every thing. He said if he was 
 coming out West to settle, he should 
 go there without hesitation. 
 
 " If I should like, and succeed there, 
 
IN THE FAR WEST, 65 
 
 perhaps you would come too. If I 
 shouldn't, I might come back to Mas- 
 sachusetts. 
 
 "What is the use of talking about 
 things six months ahead, and borrow- 
 ing trouble, when things might happen 
 in a week that would make a complete 
 revolution in our hopes and fears, plans 
 and prospects? 
 
 * One by one (bright gifts from Heaven), 
 Joys are sent thee here below : 
 Take them readily when given ; 
 Ready, too, to let them go. 
 
 One by one, thy griefs shall meet thee : 
 
 Do not fear a thronging band ; 
 One will fade as others greet thee, — 
 
 Shadows passing through the land. 
 
 Do not look at life's long sorrow ; 
 
 See how small each moment's pain ; 
 God will help thee for to-morrow ; 
 
 Every day begin again. 
 
 Every hour that floats so slowly 
 
 Has its task to do or bear : 
 Luminous the crown, and holy. 
 
 If thou set each gem with care.' 
 
66 IN THE FAR WEST. 
 
 " These lines are from ' Household 
 Words/ With love to all, I remain 
 your affectionate son, Richard." 
 
 The hopeful, trustful spirit evinced 
 by the use of the above quotation 
 was ever a characteristic of the young 
 man, of whose life in the Far West no 
 more need now be said. 
 
 He returned to New England in 
 the spring of 1859. A few months 
 following were spent in rest and recre- 
 ation. Several weeks during that time, 
 he boarded with some of his maternal 
 relatives, on the green banks of the 
 beautiful Connecticut River ; and, while 
 there, resumed his favorite pursuit of 
 hunting and fishing; and also made a 
 pedestrian excursion to the Housac 
 Tunnel, fascinating, by his genial man- 
 ners, all with whom he met, and causing 
 
IN- THE FAR WEST. 67 
 
 one to write thus to his already doting 
 mother : " It is not the lot of mortals to 
 be perfect ; but let those, who have seen 
 any faults in Kichard Derby, speak of 
 them. / have seen none\ he is the 
 nearest perfection of any person I 
 ever saw." 
 
 He improved, also, much of this lei- 
 sure for reading. He was a diligent 
 reader, and always read more for in- 
 struction than amusement. 
 
 On his return, finding his bodily 
 frame invigorated, he entered the store 
 of Frost, Brothers, & Co., in Boston, as 
 a clerk ; and there sought to perform 
 faithfully his duties, with employers 
 whom he respected, and companions 
 that were congenial, and who did not 
 forget him when he was far away, 
 serving his country, but who still re- 
 peat his name with an affectionate 
 
68 IN THE FAR WEST. 
 
 pride, remembering that his youthful 
 brow is now WTeathed with the un- 
 withering bays, and that his heroism, 
 and that of his compatriots, whose life- 
 blood crimsoned Gettysburg, Fredericks- 
 burg, and many another field beside 
 Antietam, deserve, and shall receive, a 
 nation's gratitude. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 ' How shall I aid my country's cause ? 
 How laelp avenge her trampled laws ? " 
 
 Mrs. Caroline A. Mason. 
 
 N 1861, the great American 
 Rebellion reached the climax 
 of war. The guns of the 
 South were pointed at the 
 "dear old flag" of our coun- 
 try, and the echo of their dis- 
 charge at Sumter called the 
 loyal men of the North to arms. Among 
 the many youthful patriots wlio then 
 answered the call of the President was 
 the subject of this Memorial. He joined 
 the 4th Battalion of Rifles in Boston, 
 
 69 
 
70 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 and was speedily stationed at Fort Inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 This fort stands on Castle Island, in 
 Boston harbor. The name is derived 
 from the fact that after a rude fortifica- 
 tion built of pine trees and earth had 
 become useless, a small castle was built, 
 with brick walls, and with three rooms : 
 a dwelling-room below, a lodging-room 
 next above, and a gun-room over all. 
 There was also at one time on this island 
 a strong building erected for the recep- 
 tion of convicts whose crimes deserved 
 the gallows ; but through governmental 
 leniency they were permitted to be ban- 
 ished to this "! place. The island be- 
 longs to the United States, by which the 
 fort was erected on the castle ruins. 
 
 While Private Derby was at this fort, 
 on one bright and lovely Sabbath, he was 
 permitted to attend divine services, at 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 71 
 
 which his friend, Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, 
 assisted by Rev. N. M. Gaylord, officiated. 
 His beloved mother was also present. 
 The Boston Journal reported the highly 
 interesting services, and said : " After 
 sino^ino; ' America/ in which the soldiers 
 heartily joined, prayer was offered, and 
 Mr. Fuller preached a discourse, selecting 
 the words of his text from Luke iii. 14 : 
 ^ And the soldiers likewise demanded of 
 him, saying. And what shall we do ? And 
 he said unto them. Do violence to no 
 man, neither accuse any falsely ; and be 
 content with your wages.' This, the 
 preacher said, seemed to him proof that 
 the Bible does not condemn a war that is 
 waged in a good cause. The words of 
 the text were intended to apply to ille- 
 gal violence. He called especial atten- 
 tion to that portion of the text with 
 reference to the soldier's recompense. 
 
72 THE TOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 The reward is ample. There must be 
 privations ; and the man who answers his 
 country's call does it with this upon his 
 mind ; but he has his recompense in his- 
 tory, and the realization that he has done 
 his duty in a good cause, and if he falls 
 his name will be remembered and cher- 
 ished like that of the lamented Ells- 
 worth. It was an honor to those soldiers 
 who were the first to hurry forward and 
 save our Washington ; as it w\as also an 
 honor to have been one of the gallant 
 band who first w^ent through Baltimore : 
 and similar deeds, commanding the high- 
 est praise, were yet to be performed. 
 The cause in which we are now engaged 
 is, as sacred as that duty which we ow^e 
 to our families at home. In conclusion, 
 the speaker said the soldiers should bear 
 in mind that America ^ expects every 
 man to do his duty.' 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 73 
 
 ^'The members of the Battalion had 
 been drawn up m a square before the 
 officers' quarters to hsten to the dis- 
 course. The sun, which had been 
 ishining with uncomfortable heat, was 
 overcast by passing clouds during the 
 services, making it very pleasant and 
 comfortable for the men. They were 
 then dismissed for about an hour, during 
 which a copious rain fell. At half past 
 five o'clock a dress parade took place, 
 and was witnessed by a large number of 
 people. The appearance of the soldiers 
 on parade was excellent, and elicited the 
 highest praise." 
 
 At Fort Independence, with his com- 
 rades. Private Derby remained, from 
 time to time receiving promotion as a 
 non-commissioned officer, till in August, 
 1861, he was commissioned by Gov. An- 
 drew as 2d Lieutenant in the Fifteenth 
 
14: THE TO UNO VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Eegiment, then in camp near Worcester. 
 Thither he went immediatelyj rejoicing 
 in the prospect of more active service. 
 The regiment was soon ordered to the 
 South. The first letter from the young 
 volunteer, after taking up the line of 
 march, was as follows : — 
 
 " New York, Friday morning, Aug. 10, 18C1. 
 
 '' My dear Mother, — We struck camp 
 yesterday afternoon, and marched to 
 Worcester ; and, after parading an hour 
 there, we took the cars about 5 o'clock, 
 and reached Norwich at 1 a. m. We 
 went aboard the steamer Connecticut, 
 and most of us had a good sleep. The 
 officers had a good supper (by paying 
 for it) and state-rooms, but some of the 
 nien neglected to put food in their 
 haversacks, and had to go hungry, as the 
 cooked rations were sent on in another 
 train. We are waiting now on the wharf, 
 and expect every moment to march up 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEEJi. 75 
 
 to the Park, where we shall have break- 
 fast. Lieut. Taft is ill this morning : 
 Capt. P. thinks he is threatened with a 
 fever. For myself, I never felt better.'* 
 
 "Aboard Steadier Transport, 6 o'clock, p.m. 
 
 " We did not go up town after all, but 
 waited on the wharf, and made a dinner 
 of ham and crackers. We are now on 
 our way to Amboy, to take the cars for 
 Philadelphia. Lieut. Taft has remained 
 behind in New York, with some friends, 
 on a furlough of three days, to rejoin us 
 afterwards, if fiir enough recovered. It 
 will be a night's ride to Philadelphia, 
 and nothing worth adding probably, so 
 I shall mail this at Amboy, if possible. 
 Love to all. 
 
 " From your affectionate son, 
 
 " ElCHAED. 
 
 "I shall expect a letter at Harper's 
 Ferry." 
 
76 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 This first letter from the young vol- 
 unteer under marching orders, is, as 
 may be seen, only the statement, of a 
 dutiful son to an anxious mother, in 
 regard to his locality and the means of 
 comfort at hand. Most of the letters 
 following are of a similar character, as 
 might be supposed; for no expressions 
 of patriotism were needed from one 
 who had laid his life on the altar: and 
 home friends are usually most desirous 
 to know how the dear soldier far away 
 is cared for while marching or in camp ; 
 and they know that their prayer need 
 not be, " The Lord make thee strong and 
 valiant," but only, " The Lord shield thee 
 in the day of battle." 
 
 From our country's capital, to which 
 city the 15th Regiment hastened, Lieut. 
 Derby wrote again, dating at Camp Kal- 
 orama, Aug. 13th, 1861 : — 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 77 
 
 " My dear Mother and Sister^ — We 
 were to have marched from Washing- 
 ton City Sunday evening : but it rained 
 in torrents for several hours; and we 
 thought it best to remain in the halls, 
 and sleep on the bare floor, as we had 
 sent our overcoats out to camp by the 
 wagons. I had a good night's sleep ; 
 and I guess most of the men had the 
 same, they were so very tired. We 
 marched at six o'clock, Monday morn- 
 ing, about two miles, out to Columbia- 
 College grounds, and encamped on high 
 land with the 14th Mass., two regiments 
 from Wisconsin, and one from Indiana, 
 and may be others. We are attached 
 to Gen. King's brigade. We have made 
 ourselves quite comfortable in spite of 
 the rain. Our tent has a good board 
 floor, and we have secured the services 
 of a nice colored boy. He understands 
 his business ' to the letter.' Fruit is 
 abundant and cheap. Melons, toma- 
 toes, peacheS; and all kinds of berries, 
 
7« THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 are brought fresh to camp every morn- 
 ing." 
 
 In the same letter occurs a sentence 
 which shows his character as a good and 
 obedient soldier. He says, "Some say 
 we shall move to Harper's Ferry, which 
 would suit me ; but I don't worry in 
 the least as to where we shall go, hold- 
 ing myself prepared for any move that 
 is ordered." 
 
 Some of the romantic episodes of his 
 Western life must have been brought to 
 mind about this time ; for he says, " I 
 have been over to the Wisconsin regi- 
 ment, and found several acquaintances 
 from Beloit, and heard of a number 
 w^ho are in other regiments, most of 
 whom are holding commissions." 
 
 We perceive how safe our soldiers 
 often feel in camp by this sentence : " It 
 doesn't seem at all as though we were 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 79 
 
 SO near an enemy, so mcjiy of us to- 
 gether produces a sense of security ; 
 but it is reported that the rebels are 
 encamped within eight miles of us. 
 We are still north of the Potomac." 
 
 Ten days after, he wrote to his 
 mother : " Every thing goes on smooth- 
 ly and prosperously. The 14th Mass. has 
 removed to Alexandria. We have pro- 
 cured boards, and built floors, kitchens, 
 sheds, etc. ; but we may have to leave 
 them any time. The weather is very 
 rainy and cool, but clear this morning, 
 and almost like autumn. 
 
 " Cousin Haskett Derby has sent me a 
 letter of introduction to Gen. Lander; 
 but I have not presented it yet." 
 
 The reminiscences of his school-days 
 at Groton and Northborough were called 
 forth here ; for he states, " I have discov- 
 ered one of my Groton school-mates in 
 
80 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Capt. Bowman, of Co. C. We had a 
 great time talking over the Groton 
 boys ; and his clerk is Walter Gale 
 of West Newton, or more properly of 
 Northborough." 
 
 Only two days after, and they were 
 called to leave their comfortable quar- 
 ters; and on Sunday noon, Aug. 25, he 
 writes : " We march this afternoon, at 
 two o'clock, to join Gen. Stone's brig- 
 ade, w^hicli, I believe, belongs to Gen, 
 Banks's division: at any rate, it is in 
 the direction of Harper's Ferry. The 
 weather is flivorable for us, — rather 
 warm, but no dust." 
 
 There is a dash of quiet humor in 
 j;he following, " My friends may stop 
 that subscription for a silver-mounted 
 pistol 1 ! ? as I have traded for one, and 
 can shoot it with any of our officers." 
 
 On they marched, making thirtj^-one 
 
TEE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 81 
 
 miles in two days, and then encamped 
 at Poolsville, Maryland. From thence, 
 on the 27th, he wrote to his mother, 
 "As near as I can learn, we are about 
 three miles north of the Potomac, oppo- 
 site the city of Leesburg, Va., and not 
 far from ^ Point of Rocks,' a name per- 
 haps you may have seen in the papers. 
 There are troops already encamped here 
 from all parts of the free States. I sup- 
 pose the object of collecting them here 
 is to protect the passage of the Potomac 
 at Edward's Ferry and thereabouts. We 
 have seen or heard nothing of the rebels 
 yet. We are up pretty well toward the 
 mountains. I should think we could 
 
 see thirty miles from some points 
 
 I am well, and not fatigued. I had a 
 cold when I started, which I took sleep- 
 ing- in a tent, but was cured by sleeping 
 in the ivoodsr 
 
82 THE 70UNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 About a fortnight later he wrote, 
 ^^Four companies of our regiment, in- 
 cluding ours, are stationed on the banks 
 of the Potomac as picket guards. We 
 are living like Indians or gypsies in brush 
 huts in the woods. We are watching 
 the rebels on the opposite side of the 
 river, who also have pickets thrown out 
 in the same way. We see them every 
 day; but there is a general agreement 
 not to fire on one another, unless an 
 advance is attempted, or reconnoitring 
 parties sent out. The four companies 
 are distributed along for three or four 
 miles. Lieut. Taft is in Washington. I 
 suppose he is permanently attached to 
 the telegraphic corps. The captain has 
 one platoon, and I the other, about a 
 quarter of a mile apart ; and, as he has 
 charge of the whole department, in 
 place of the major who is sick, most 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 83 
 
 of the care of the company comes on 
 me. The men like the duty very much. 
 It is more novel, and they have but very- 
 little drilling to do, lounging around our 
 bivouacs like Indians. Night before last 
 it rained in torrents, and our shanties 
 were no protection at all : it made 
 some of the soldiers think of home. It 
 reminded me of some rainy nights 
 which I experienced in Minnesota. I 
 slept soundly through it all, and did 
 not take the least touch of a cold. We 
 are not allowed tents, because it would 
 disclose our position too plainly to the 
 enemy ; and, for the same reason, we 
 
 have no fire or lights after dark 
 
 My health is good, though I have had 
 some trouble occasioned by the lime in 
 the water, which is even worse than 
 that in Wisconsin. I drink milk now 
 altogether What will Henry call 
 
84 TEE TOUNO VOLUNTEER, 
 
 his dog ? Ask him if he would hke to 
 call him ' Hail Columbia ! ' I don't know 
 of any thing that I really need that you 
 could send me. It would be very pleas- 
 ant, though, to open a little box of hiicJc- 
 
 JmacJcs from home I have written 
 
 this in great haste, on my knee, just be- 
 fore dark, because I found it would be 
 delayed four davs if I waited till to- 
 morrow." 
 
 On the 4th of Oct., they were sud- 
 denly ordered to pack their blankets 
 and overcoats, and proceed to take pos- 
 session of Harrison's Island. Lieut. 
 Derby thus describes the change : — 
 
 " At half past four p. m. the order was 
 received, and at five we were on the 
 march. The island is about opposite 
 where we were stationed before, — i.e., 
 half way between Conrad's and Ed- 
 ward's Ferry; and between it and the 
 
THE YOUNG VOLVNTEER. 85 
 
 Maryland shore the stream is two hun- 
 dred and fifty yards wide. The river 
 has been high, and has just fallen, leav- 
 ing a steep clay bank, softened to the 
 consistency of butter, and overgrown 
 with roots, vines, and weeds as thick 
 as a hedge. We arrived after dark 
 on the canal path, and found only one 
 boat for us to cross in. It was a metal- 
 lic life-boat, capable of carrying fifteen 
 men, and was in the canal, from which 
 we had to drag it to the river. The 
 island had been reconnoitred during 
 the day ; but we were suspicious that it 
 was occupied during the night by the 
 rebels, and every thing had to be done 
 with the greatest possible silence. The 
 captain went in the first boat, and land- 
 ed without resistance. I went in the 
 second, and four more loads took us all. 
 When we reached the top of the bank, 
 a dirtier ninety men you never saw. 
 Some of my men hoisted me bodily 
 over the obstructions. On reconnoi- 
 
86 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 tring, all the human being we found was 
 an old slave, who takes care of his mas- 
 ter's plantation. He thought his time 
 had come, and, falling on his knees, be- 
 gan praying fervently. 
 
 "Pickets were posted all along the 
 Virginia side (two miles in length), 
 and the rest of us went to sleep. In 
 the morning we found that our quar- 
 ters were very comfortable, as long as 
 the Virginians would keep their can- 
 non out of the way. The channel on 
 their side is quite narrow, and in some 
 places the bank is a bluff one hundred 
 feet high, which gives them the advan- 
 tage. 
 
 "We enjoyed ourselves all day looking 
 round and eating fruits, vegetables, and 
 chicken-stew. The colonel and major vis- 
 ited us during the day. After we had 
 turned in for the night, the lieutenant- 
 colonel arrived with a new order ; viz., to 
 withdraw all but thirty men (to be left 
 as pickets) over the river to the canal. 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 87 
 
 That was executed in pretty much the 
 same manner as last night. We all re- 
 turned this morning ; and now it is 
 night again, and the same process to 
 go through with." 
 
 Soon after, he again wrote from the 
 island, as follows : — 
 
 " It is a rainy day, and we are making 
 ourvSclves comfortable in the sheds of a 
 ruined stable. We don't like to occupy 
 the houses, because, if the rebels should 
 see a number of men in them, they 
 would shell them. 
 
 ^•' Last night, at half past twelve, the 
 report of a gun roused all hands. The 
 captain and I started of! to visit the pick- 
 ets, and found them all right. The gun 
 was fired on the otlier side, and was 
 probably accidental. It was heard over 
 on the canal, and the companies there 
 turned out and were under arms in 
 three mimdes. The rebels seemed very 
 
88 THE TOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 well satisfied to have us here. I think 
 they would like to have our troops cross, 
 and follow them into another Manassas 
 trap. 
 
 "I bought of ^ Uncle Phil/ the old 
 slave here, the enclosed bill. That is 
 the flimsy foundation that the opera- 
 tions of the rebels rest on. The old 
 darky was very glad to get silver for 
 them. He had six or eight of them, 
 and sold them aU. He said Mat was 
 doing pooty well. I don't set no great 
 store by dat kind o' money ; but it's all 
 dey's got in Leesburg, so I has to take 
 it.' He tells us a good deal about his 
 life, and it is as interesting as Uncle 
 Tom's. They all tell the same story of 
 the separation of families." 
 
 An opportunity for writing a few 
 pages for the press occurred while the 
 15th Regiment was at Poolesville, and 
 Lieut Derby improved it by writing to 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 89 
 
 the " Boston Journal." He did not write 
 often, and finally ceased writing alto- 
 gether, on account of the difficulty ex- 
 perienced in deciding what was and what 
 was not " contraband " news. 
 
 The following letter is from the " Bos- 
 ton Journal," and is there dated Oct. 12, 
 1861: — 
 
 " The first essential for pleasant camp 
 life is an agreeable location ; and ours 
 is eminently so, being on a high and 
 nearly level plain, where fresh air, 
 sunlight, and beautiful views, are un- 
 limited. 
 
 " Our regiment has had no experience 
 in active warfare, nothing but marches, 
 tiresome but not dull to the man who 
 keeps his eyes open, the monotonous 
 daily drills when not on the move, and 
 tour of picket duty that liad the spice 
 of novelty to most of us. The Poto- 
 
90 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 mac is guarded from Washington to 
 Harper's Ferry, and a part of that duty 
 falls to us. Four companies are de- 
 tailed at a time, to watch the section 
 between Conrad's and Edward's Ferries. 
 It is a six-mile march in the heat of 
 the day, but there is a prospect of fun ; 
 and, for the first time, the men sling 
 knapsacks without grumbling. 
 
 " About a quarter of a mile from the 
 river, we come upon a battery of field- 
 pieces in a grove, crouching like a cat 
 for her prey. It is but one spring to 
 the ferry, if the rebels should show 
 themselves. One of our companies ig 
 left here for its support. At the ferry 
 are two log houses, with curious-look- 
 ing holes in the walls ; those in the side 
 next the river round and smooth, on 
 the other side irregular, and fringed 
 with splinters. The boys of the New- 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 91 
 
 York Tammany Regiment inform us 
 that they were made by cannon balls 
 that the rebels fired across the river. 
 One house was occupied at the time 
 by a family, which barely escaped with 
 their lives. Breastworks were immedi- 
 ately thrown up, and a few ' Tamma- 
 nies/ armed with Belgian rifles, keep 
 the savages at a respectful distance. 
 
 " The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal here 
 runs parallel with the river, from three 
 to six rods apart, but at a higher level, 
 leaving a wooded slope, on which we en- 
 camped, distributed in squads of thirty 
 or forty men for a distance of three 
 miles. No tents for us here ; they would 
 be too inviting a mark for the bullets 
 of rebel pickets ; but huts of poles and 
 brush, with an attempt at thatching 
 with weeds, serve for shelter from sun 
 and dew. 
 
92 . THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 " The shooting of pickets is kept up. 
 There is a loose kind of agreement that 
 there shall be no firing except reconnoi- 
 tring parties, and in case of advance; 
 but a picket sees a good shot, and can't 
 resist the temptation. Then half a doz- 
 en shots are returned to pay for it. 
 The distance across the river varies 
 from two hundred to three hundred 
 yards; but the marksmanship was so 
 poor, that only one man was struck. 
 Placing too much confidence in human 
 nature (if they are human on the other 
 side), he went down to the water to wash 
 dishes (men have to do housework here), 
 and got a bullet through his arm. Yery 
 often, on a man's carelessly exposing 
 himself, he will be greeted by a sudden 
 "whisk of a ball by his head. That was 
 amusing ; but the annoyance of our 
 lives was the arriy of bugs and spiders 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 93 
 
 that swarmed on our clothes and food; 
 and now and then a four-foot snake 
 would make us a call, generally crawl- 
 ing in over the pillow^s — no ! — in the 
 place where the pillows ought to be. 
 A rich field for our naturalists! 
 
 " One enlivening incident was a night 
 alarm. About midnight, the tramp of 
 a horse on the tow-path arouses the 
 sleepers. An orderly thrusts his head 
 under the shelter : ' Captain, the coun- 
 tersign is changed/ and whispers a new 
 one. ' What is going on ? ' 
 
 " ' Nothing : only we are a little suspi- 
 cious.' Hardly had we quieted down 
 for another nap, when the same thing 
 is repeated. This time it is, ^Captain, 
 turn out your company under arms; 
 the enemy are moving on Edward's 
 Ferry.' 
 
 "So the men are roused, and told t9 
 
94 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 be ready for a brush. The pickets are 
 warned to be particularly cautious, and 
 the soldiers are permitted to lie down 
 on their arms. The night passes with- 
 out further disturbance, and all hands 
 awake in the morning disappointed, and 
 declaring that the 15th never ivill have a 
 chance to fight. The next disappoint- 
 ment is the arrival of a relief, and an 
 order to return to camp. 
 
 ^^ One fact, to show the Eip Yan 
 Winkle class of people here. Our 
 march was over the public highway 
 from Poolesville to Conrad's Ferry ; and 
 when we went down, it was more like 
 the bed of a mountain stream than a 
 wagon road; but a fatigue party of 
 fifty soldiers have been mending it, and 
 it is much improved. It is the first 
 work that has been done on it for 
 twenty-five years. 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 95 
 
 " We are now impatiently waiting 
 the progress of events opposite Wash- 
 ington, as our movements depend very 
 much upon those of the grand army. 
 The signs are very ominous ; but silence, 
 next to obedience, is the duty of sol- 
 diers, and I will remain silent till some- 
 thing turns up for me to write you. 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 To his mother, from Harrison's Island, 
 he writes again, Oct. 17: — 
 
 " I received the box of ' goodies ' yesterday 
 afternoon, with every thing in good order. . . 
 The army songs I will give to the Chaplain 
 when I see him. We are fortifying the island, 
 and are to have reinforcements, and hold it in 
 case of an attack. I was up till three o'clock 
 this morning, overseeing the throwing up of 
 entrenchments. The ruins of the old stone 
 barn make a good fort." 
 
 Three days later began the disastrous 
 
96 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 battle of Ball's Bluff, in which the gal- 
 lant Col. Baker — a senator as well as 
 soldier — and many other brave and no- 
 ble sons of Liberty lost their lives. 
 The Editor of the " American Annual 
 Cyclopcedia" thus describes the place 
 from which the battle takes its name : 
 " Ball's Bluff, or Leesburg Heights, is the 
 name given to a part of the bank of the 
 Potomac River on the Virginia side, east 
 of Leesburg, and opposite Harrison's Is- 
 land. The height of the bluff is varia- 
 ble, in some parts being one hundred 
 and fifty feet. It is steep, with brush, 
 logs, trees, and rocks on its front, and at 
 the point of ascent was, on the day 
 of the battle there, rendered soft and 
 muddy by the passage of the troops. 
 Opposite the bluff, and about one hun- 
 dred yards distant, is Harrison's Island, 
 a long, narrow tract of four hundred 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 97 
 
 acres, between which and the Virginia 
 shore the river runs with a rapid cur- 
 rent. On the other side of the island, 
 which is one hundred and fifty yards 
 broad, the distance to the Maryhmd 
 shore is two hundred yards, and the 
 stream not quite so rapid." 
 
 General McClellan ordered a recon- 
 noissance by General McCall towards 
 Dranesville, and sent notice of the 
 fact to General Stone, with directions 
 to make a slight demonstration to start 
 the rebels from Leesburg. General Stone 
 immediately ordered four more compa- 
 nies of the 15th, under Colonel Devens, 
 to proceed to Harrison's Island, to join 
 the company which, with Lieutenant 
 Derby, was already there. Troops were 
 also ordered to Edward's and to Con- 
 rad's Ferries. The rebels perceived 
 something of these movements, and a 
 
98 THE TOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 regiment appeared from Leesburg, and 
 took shelter behind a hill, about a mile 
 and a half from Edward's Ferry. 
 
 " The day is Sunday, and at half past 
 four, p. M., Van Alen's battery of two 
 twelve-pound Parrott guns opens with 
 shell upon the Confederate force upon 
 the Virginia side. Their explosion can 
 be distinctly heard. Seven are thrown 
 within ten minutes, and no response 
 comes across the water. The direction 
 given to the shells is varied, so as to 
 find out the location of the force, which 
 is supposed to be concealed in a thick 
 wood to the southwest, on the hill. At 
 five o'clock, p. M., the battery in charge 
 of Lieutenant Frink, a quarter of a 
 mile from the ferry, also opens with 
 shell, and the two batteries keep up the 
 fire with rapidity. Just as the sun is 
 going down, the First Minnesota and 
 
TBS YOUNG VOLUNTBER. 99 
 
 Second New York come down over the 
 hill, and take the road to the ferry. 
 The sun sets gloriously, his rays re- 
 flecting from the thousands of bayo- 
 nets which line the road. 
 
 " General Gorman is ordered to deploy 
 his farces in view of the enemy, making 
 a feint to cross the river, with a view of 
 trying what effect the movement may 
 have upon the enemy. The troops 
 evince by their cheering that they are 
 all ready, and determined to fight gal- 
 lantly, when the opportunity is pre- 
 sented. Three flat-boats are ordered, 
 and at the same time shell and spheri- 
 cal-case shot are thrown into the place 
 of the enemy's concealment. Elsewhere, 
 all around, the air is perfectly still, and 
 the close of the pleasant Sabbath is im- 
 pressively beautiful ; while the view of 
 the Virginia is almost enchanting. Soon 
 
 7 
 
100 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 something resembling the sound of a 
 drum-corps is distinctly heard, and the 
 shelling and the launching of the boats 
 induces the quick retirement of the 
 Confederate force. Three boat-loads of 
 thirty-five men each, from the First 
 Minnesota, crossed and re-crossed the 
 river, each trip occupying about six or 
 seven minutes. At dusk, General Gor- 
 man's brigade and the Seventh Michigan 
 returned to camp. The other forces at 
 Harrison's Island and Conrad's Ferry re- 
 mained in position. Here the move- 
 ment should have stopped. The or- 
 ders of General McClellan had been 
 obeyed, and their object had been ac- 
 complished." ^ 
 
 The share which the brave and patri- 
 otic subject of this memorial had in this 
 battle is thus mentioned by him in a 
 
 * The American Annual Cyclopaedia, 1861. 
 
THE TO UNO VOLUNTEER. 101 
 
 letter to his mother, dated Poolesville, 
 Md., Oct. 22, 1861: — 
 
 "My DEAR Mother, — I hasten to send you 
 by the first mail a few lines, to relieve you 
 froni any anxiety about my fate. We have 
 had a terrible fight ; but I have come out of 
 it safe and sound, except the effects of ex- 
 haustion and fatigue. We crossed into Vir- 
 ginia, and were driven back to the river, and 
 had to swim it or be captured. Of course, I 
 took to the water ; but I had a hard time get- 
 ting over. Captain Philbrick is safe also. He 
 was struck by a spent ball, which only made a 
 severe bruise. Co. H had a fight all by itself, 
 before the rest of the regiments were engaged. 
 Everybody acknowledged that we fought no- 
 bly ; but, after fighting all day, we were re- 
 pulsed, and I am afraid there is not half the 
 regiment left. . . . Colonel Devens escaped 
 imharmed, but the Lieutenant-Colonel lost 
 his foot. They are burying the dead to-day, 
 it being cold and rainy. I suppose the fight 
 will go on to-morrow, but we shall not take 
 part in it." 
 
 That Lieutenant Derby was brave and 
 
102 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 faithful can be seen from the above 
 extract, written with the unreserve of a 
 loving son to an aflfectionate mother, 
 whose sympathies he knew were for 
 the Union and Freedom. In a letter to 
 liis former teacher, Rev. James Means, 
 Lieutenant Derby gives more details of 
 the Ball's Bluff engagement. He says, — 
 
 " The news of the fight created great excite- 
 ment ill Worcester County (Mass.), and many 
 more people came on here than could be ac- 
 commodated ; but nobody blamed them for 
 their anxiety, although they were really in 
 the way. There happened to be unusual 
 hospital accommodations, and all the wound- 
 ed who were brought across the river re- 
 ceived the best of care. Miss Dix has be^n 
 up from Wasiiington, and ordered a liberal 
 supply of comforts. The wounds are all from 
 gun-shots ; and although dreadful to look at, 
 only a small proportion are mortal. The 
 weather is favorable for their healing. The 
 fight was pronounced by all to have been a 
 very severe one, and the ratio of loss was 
 
THE TO UNO VOLUNTEER. 103 
 
 greater than at Bull Run. It is a mystery to 
 me how any man escaped the shower of bul- 
 lets that was poured in upon us for two hours. 
 The pieces of artillery seemed to be the es- 
 pecial target of the sharp-shooters, and hardly 
 a man was left standing by them after the 
 second volley. I had always been afraid that 
 the men would become unmanageable ; but I 
 was never more disappointed. Through the 
 whole affair, from our embarkation in the 
 miserable little skiffs to the retreat down the 
 bluffs, they obeyed every order as promptly as 
 though they were merely drilling, and fought 
 as cooly as veterans. They showed the real 
 English * pluck,* and I think, if they had not 
 seen that it was a hopeless and desperate 
 fight, they would have added some of the 
 French ' dash,' and carried everything before 
 them. Early in the forenoon, Co. H had a 
 skirmish on its own account with a company 
 of Mississippi riflemen. We got the better of 
 them, even with our old smooth-bore muskets, 
 but had to fall back to the shelter of the 
 woods on the approach of cavalry. Our loss 
 was seventeen killed and wounded in that 
 affair, and the same in the general battle. I 
 went through the whole of it without a 
 
104 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 scratch, not even a hole in my clothes. I 
 was very much disappointed, as some officers 
 had three or four bullets through their coats 
 and caps : so I made up for it by nearly drown- 
 ing myself in the Potomac. I hadn't a suspi- 
 cion but what I could swim across with ease, 
 so I pulled off my boots, and laid my sword, 
 pistol, and belt on a small board to push 
 across. I was anxious to save my sword, as 
 it looked too much like surrendering to lose 
 that. I kept all my clothes on and my 
 pockets full. I pushed off quite deliberately, 
 although the water was full of drowning sol- 
 diers and bullets from the rebels on the top 
 of the bluff. I made slow progress with one 
 hand, and had to abandon my raft and cargo. 
 I got along very well a little more than half 
 way, when I found that every effort I made 
 only pushed my head under water, and it 
 suddenly flashed across me that I should 
 drown. I didn't feel any pain or exhaus- 
 tion, — the sensation was exactly like being 
 overcome with drowsiness. I swallowed water 
 in spite of all I could do, till at last I sank 
 unconscious. There was a small island near 
 Harrison's, against which the current drifted 
 me, and aroused me enough to crawl a step 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 105 
 
 or two, but not enough to know what I was 
 doing till I dropped just at the edge of the 
 water with my head in the soft clay-mud. 
 My good fortune still continued, and Colonel 
 Devens, swimming across on a log, landed 
 right where I laid. He had me taken up 
 and carried over to Harrison's Island to a 
 good fire, where I soon began to feel quite 
 comfortable, but was afterwards taken sick, 
 and have been till this time recovering. I 
 should have returned to duty to-day, if the 
 weather hadn't been so stormy. I feel as if 
 it was in answer to the many prayers of my 
 friends that I was saved at last through so 
 many dangers." 
 
 To those who knew Lieutenant Derby, 
 the closing sentence of this letter to his 
 clerical friend is sufficiently indicative of 
 religious trust and Christian faith. 
 
 To his anxious mother he wrote, 
 Nov. 2: — 
 
 " I am boarding in a private family in the 
 village, but should have returned to duty to- 
 day if it had not stormed so furiously. Capt. 
 
106 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 P. drove me out of the tent, and said I must 
 go in doors to recruit, after my drenching in 
 the river. I felt quite ill for several days 
 after, but was not obliged to keep my bed. 
 I lost my sword, pistols, and belt, as did all 
 who swam the river. ... I came out of it 
 better than some who threw away clothes, 
 money, and all. Captain Philbrick swam 
 across with his money in his mouth. Cap- 
 tain Bowman was a school-mate of mine in 
 Groton. We are now afraid he was drowned. 
 He could not swim, and made one attempt 
 to cross on a small raft, but returned. Some 
 time after. Captain Watson thought he heard 
 his voice out in the stream, and is afraid he 
 made another attempt and was drowned. . . . 
 General Lander was slightly wounded, and is 
 now in Washington. Those who are able to 
 travel are going home on short furloughs. . . . 
 Did I tell you that Lieutenant Taft is in the 
 naval expedition ? We look to that for great 
 deeds. If that succeeds, it will lighten our 
 task on the Potomac. If it should fail, per- 
 haps we shall have trouble with England and 
 France. I hope it is out of reach of this 
 tremendous storm. You must not look on 
 the dark side in regard to the war: affairs 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 107 
 
 are at this time looking better for us than 
 ever before." 
 
 The naval expedition to which Lieu- 
 tenant Derby referred was that of Com- 
 mander Dupont, and consisted of eight- 
 een men of war, and thirty-eight trans- 
 ports. They put to sea on the 29th of 
 Oct., 1861, and, when three days out, en- 
 countered the terrific gale which Lieu- 
 tenant Derby mentioned, and several 
 vessels were lost; the crews, however, 
 being saved by the heroic exertions of 
 their companions on board of other ves- 
 sels. The expedition was successful at 
 last, capturing the forts at Hilton Head, 
 and taking possession of Beaufort, Port 
 Royal, and the adjacent country. 
 
 Lieutenant Derby thus continued his 
 letter to his mother : — 
 
 " I cannot yot tell you wnere or what our 
 winter quarters will be, but a few weeks will 
 
108 THE TO UNO VOLUNTEER. 
 
 decide. The state of the roads will soon put 
 a stop to active operations on both sides. We 
 have got a little stove in our tent, that makes 
 it as warm as we choose to have it. It is very 
 much like the one I had made to take to Min- 
 nesota. The thick boots and gloves will soon 
 be comfortable, and even necessary. . . . Our 
 Chaplain, Mr. Scandlin, is to have a furlough 
 in about a fortnight, and I wish you and Ellen 
 could see him. You would admire him, I 
 think. With love to all, I remain your ever 
 affectionate 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 Before leaving the subject of the 
 Ball's BluJfF defeat, it may be well to 
 present from the " History of the Civil 
 War in America," by Kev. John S. C. 
 Abbott, a deserved tribute to the her- 
 oism and patriotism of the regiment to 
 which Lieutenant Derby belonged. It 
 is as follows: — 
 
 " On the 25th of October, the bereaved and 
 saddened remnant of the 15th Massachusetts 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 10b 
 
 regiment, under Colonel Devins, held their 
 first parade after the battle of Ball's Bluff. 
 The heroism of tliis regiment, and of their 
 colonel, deserves especial notice. These Mas- 
 sachusetts men, deployed as skirmishers upon 
 the brow of the bluff, held the thronging 
 rebels in check for some time. Many of 
 them absolutely refused to go below the bluff, 
 but fought till they were shot down. It was 
 manifest that all further resistance was un- 
 availing, but these men would not consider 
 even the question of surrender. Colonel 
 Devins said, in his report, that under the 
 circumstances he would have surrendered to 
 2^ foreign foe, but that to traitors and rebels 
 surrender was impossible. The colonel .him- 
 self swam the river by aid of three of his 
 soldiers. Upon the island he found thirty 
 of his men, and formed them in line of bat- 
 tle. Gradually, during the night, others 
 joined them, who had escaped. These were 
 the heroic men, but the shadow of the regi- 
 ment which, but a few weeks before, left Mas- 
 sachusetts, who now were assembled for their 
 first parade after that disastrous day. Colo- 
 nel Devins thus addressed them, in strains 
 which would have given a Roman immor",ality : 
 
110 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 ' Soldiers of Massachusetts, men of Worces- 
 ter County, with these fearful gaps in your 
 lines, with the recollection of the terrible 
 struggle of Monday fresh upon your thoughts, 
 with the knowledge of the bereaved and saul- 
 stricken ones at home, weeping for those 
 whom they will see no more upon earth, 
 — with that hospital before your eyes, filled 
 with wounded and maimed comrades, — I ask 
 you now, whether you are again ready to meet 
 the traitorous foes who are endeavoring to 
 subvert our Government, and who are crush- 
 ing under the iron heel of despotism the lib- 
 erties of a part of our country. Would you 
 go next week ? Would you go to-morrow ? 
 Would you go this moment ? ' One hearty 
 ' Yes ' burst from every lip." 
 
 The battle of Ball's Bluff must be 
 acknowledged as a Union defeat, but 
 it was one in which those who were 
 defeated displayed such heroism as to 
 secure to themselves eternal honor. 
 Rev. J. T. Headley thus refers to 
 those battle scenes: — 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 111 
 
 " A rebel officer on a white horse galloped 
 up to the Tammany regiment, and shouted 
 ^ Charge!^ pointing to the woods where the 
 enemy was concealed. The regiment, suppos- 
 ing the order came from their own officer, 
 gave a shout, and dashed forward, followed 
 by the dauntless Massachusetts fifteenth, who 
 supposed that the whole line was ordered to 
 advance. A deadly volley received the brave 
 fellows, and they fell back in confusion." * 
 
 Then came the retreat. 
 
 " The scene at this moment was fearful 
 enough to appall the stoutest heart. Before 
 the exhausted, bleeding band, rolled the rapid 
 river ; while, mingled with its sullen roar, 
 there struggled up, from the deepening 
 gloom, groans and cries and shrieks for 
 help. Behind and above them, in the in- 
 tervals of the demoniacal yells, came the 
 plunging volleys, strewing the crimson shore 
 with the slain. Still no voice called for quar- 
 ter, — no white flag floated in the darkness. 
 Overwhelmed, but not conquered, they dis- 
 dained to surrender ; and there on the banks 
 
 * Headley's " Great Rebellion," page 180. 
 
112 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 of the Potomac, on that gloomy October night, 
 were exhibited deeds of personal devotion and 
 self-sacrifice, which have never been snrpassed 
 in the history of man. Men pleaded with their 
 officers to escape ; and officers used their right 
 to command, to compel their troops to aban- 
 don them, and save themselves. . . . Opposite 
 Harrison's Island, toward which the swimmers 
 struck, the Potomac ran blood ; for the bullets 
 of the enemy pattered like hail-stones on the 
 water darkened by the heads of the fugitives. 
 Many a bold swimmer, struck by a bullet in 
 his head, went down in mid-stream. Soldiers 
 swam slowly by the side of their wounded offi- 
 cers, refusing, though repeatedly ordered to 
 do so, to leave them. At last, \\\q struggle, 
 the flight, and the slaughter, was over ; and 
 silence fell on the Potomac, broken only by 
 the roar of the torrent, and groans of wounded 
 men that lined the shore and the bluff. Far 
 down, over the rugged rocks, were rolling the 
 lifeless bodies of the brave, whilst the living 
 sat down in sullen rage, feeling that they had 
 been led like sheep to the slaughter. . . . Not 
 only was the fall of Baker, a gallant man, and 
 senator of the United States, deeply lamented, 
 but the destruction in the two Massachusetts 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 113 
 
 regiments, composed as they were of some of 
 the first young men of tlie State, was felt to 
 be a national loss." * 
 
 Thus does this historian portray the 
 thrilling events of an encounter which 
 crowned more than one hero with im- 
 mortal bays. 
 
 On returning to his duty, Lieutenant 
 Derby again wrote to his friends ; for, 
 sick or w^ell, he never forgot the fire- 
 side circle in his far-off New England 
 home ; and, as his devoted mother 
 stated, "always wrote in such a ge- 
 nial frame of mind, that his letters 
 were like sunshine to the household 
 now forever darkened by his absence." 
 
 Under date of Nov. 5th, from Pooles- 
 ville, he writes : — 
 
 ''My dear Mother and Sister: — I am at 
 home again, in camp with the remnant of Co. 
 
 ♦ Headley's " Great Rebellion." 
 
114 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 H, feeling as well^if not better than before 
 The weather has moderated considerably, and 
 made it more favorable for changing from in- 
 door to tent life. I escape guard duty for the 
 present (which is severe in cold and stormy 
 nights) by acting as adjutant till Colonel 
 Devens can send one on from Massachusetts, 
 where he has gone on a fortnight's leave of 
 absence to recruit the regiment. Our adju- 
 tant has been promoted to be Assistant Adju- 
 tant-General of the 20th Regiment. Colonel 
 Lee, Major Revere, Dr. Revere, and Adjutant 
 Pierson, are all prisoners in Richmond. We 
 have not yet heard from our officers. . . . 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Ward intends to hold his 
 commission, and thinks he shall be able-bodied 
 with one artificial leg^ 
 
 The many thoughtful and affectionate 
 mothers, sisters, and wives, who have sent 
 boxes laden with pleasant tokens of lov- 
 ing remembrance of the tastes and wants 
 of their far-off soldier friends, will appre- 
 ciate the following extract from the same 
 letter : — 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 115 
 
 " The box arrived on Saturday night, in all 
 the rain ; but I did not know it till Monday. 
 It was fortunate that you put so many papers 
 at the bottom, as it stood in the water, and 
 they protected the contents. The jelly leaked 
 out a little, but did no damage : every thing 
 was in nice order. The boots are just what I 
 wanted, and the best fit I ever had ; please 
 tell my bootmaker so, if you see him. The 
 loaf of bread was very nice, though not as 
 good as if it was fresh. Several persons par- 
 took of it, and thought it very superior ; and 
 Wesley (our negro) wanted me to tell my 
 sister that it was the ' bess bread he ever ate.' 
 Thank your good Katy for her contribution : 
 it forms a nice dessert. The stockings made 
 Captani P. laugh, but they are just what I 
 want for cold, windy weather. The cocoa is 
 very acceptable, as I cannot buy any in Pooles- 
 ville that is fresh and good : I had the paper 
 pf broma in my haversack, and I guess it is 
 pretty well dissolved in the Potomac by this 
 ■time. I see, by referring to one of your let- 
 ters, that you want to know what I did for 
 dry clothes when I got to the island. I sat by 
 the fire till I got warm, and then I covered 
 myself with overcoat and blankets, and kept 
 
116 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 them on till I could change my clothes the 
 next morning in camp by the hospital fire." 
 
 As a proof of the native modesty and 
 good sense of the young volunteer, the 
 following is given, from a letter to home 
 friends : — 
 
 " Don't say any thing about my acting as 
 adjutant, or I shall soon hear of my being 
 promoted. It is only for convenience ; and 
 the colonel expressly stated that it was merely 
 temporary, so that there should be no misun- 
 derstanding. When Lieutenant Taft left us, 
 one of my friends wrote me, that he was glad 
 to hear that I was promoted to be 1st Lieu- 
 tenant. Such things are very provoking." 
 
 Letters from old friends were always 
 acceptable to him: so he adds, — 
 
 " If I don't hear from the store to-daj^, 1 
 shall wonder what has become of Burrill. 
 When you are down that way, just drop in 
 there, and remind them that I am not out of 
 the reach of letters yet." 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 117 
 
 Our soldier-boys never forget Thanks- 
 giving Day, though they may be far 
 away from " the old homestead," and 
 with no edibles suitable for its celebra- 
 tion according to time-honored custom. 
 Thus Lieutenant Derby speaks of it : — 
 
 " My dear Mother, — I have received both 
 yours and Manuela's of the 17tb. They 
 served to finish off Thanksgiving day very 
 pleasantly. We kept the day in New-Eng- 
 land style. Captain Philbrick and I dined on 
 roast turkey ; and Mrs. White (the lady I 
 boarded with in town) sent me a pudding 
 as a present. We had a delightful day to 
 celebrate in. Colonel Devens conducted the 
 services in place of the chaplain, who has 
 now gone East on a furlough." 
 
 That the young patriot kindly remem- 
 bered all around him, when occasion of- 
 fered, is seen in these sentences from 
 the same letter : — 
 
 " I would like to have you get a silver le- 
 
118 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 pine watch, to cost from six to eight dollars. 
 It is for Wesley, our darky boy ; and I want 
 as good a one as you can send for that price. 
 Have it put in good running order, and send 
 two or three spare keys.* Also for myself 
 two packages of brown stamped envelopes. 
 If there should be a balance, buy some little 
 thing for ' Katy ' and the children.'' 
 
 A letter written about this time by 
 Lieutenant Derby, and published in the 
 " Boston Journal/' should not be omitted 
 here. It is dated Nov. 23, 1861. 
 
 " To THE Editor of the Boston Journal, — 
 
 " The past week, although undisturbed by 
 any warlike movement, has been one of con- 
 siderable animation in * Camp Foster.' Oh 
 Monday evening, Colonel Devens returned 
 from a fortnight's furlough spent in Wash- 
 ington and Massachusetts. The gratified ea- 
 gerness with which the word was passed that 
 
 * Wesley's watch did not last long, for he carelessly dropped it; 
 and then, as Lieutenant Derby wittily remarked, " It would not 
 go, being afficted with tic-douloureux and chronic rheumatism of 
 the hands." 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 119 
 
 ' the Colonel liad got back,' even without his 
 own confession, proves that this is in reality 
 his home. One of the fruits of his labors 
 while absent is before us already, — four liun- 
 dred good rifles, to take the place of our mis- 
 erable smooth-bores. 
 
 " Tuesday eveiung brought another wel- 
 come arrival, the paymaster, with brass-bound 
 chests, little bat weighty. A number of 
 the wounded, who had been waiting for their 
 two months' wages, were immediately paid off, 
 and next morning set out, a happy party, for 
 their homes in Massachusetts. Their fur- 
 loughs range from two to six weeks ; and as 
 the four wagon loads rattled off toward 
 Adamstown, many a man regretted that he 
 too did not get a bullet, so that he could 
 spend Thanksgiving at the homestead. But 
 we couldn't get along without Thanksgiving 
 in some shape ; and considering our circum- 
 stances, tlie celebration came very nearly up 
 to Puritanic standard. Colonel Devens mani- 
 fested liis fatherly interest in the happiness 
 of his men by presenting them fifty dollars 
 toward buying a good dinner, and the all-im- 
 portant roast turkey was not wanting. 
 
 " There was one feature of the day that I 
 
120 THE YOUNG VOLUXTEEIi. 
 
 take especial pride in mentioning, as ijdi- 
 cating the material of which the regiment is 
 composed. It is, that not a man was intoxi- 
 cated during the whole day. What other regi- 
 ment of eight luindred men, with pockets full 
 of money, and plenty of whiskey within reach, 
 can boast of so much self-respect and regard 
 for their officers as not to vield in a sina;le in- 
 stance ? You can depend on such men every- 
 where. 
 
 "Much anxiety has been relieved by the 
 receipt of a full list of our prisoners at 
 Richmond. We find in it several whom we 
 supposed to be dead beyond a doubt. Our 
 excellent Chaplain, Rev. Mr. Scandlin, is now 
 in Massachusetts on a short furlough. Ser- 
 geant Jergensen of Co. A, who was wounded 
 at Ball's Bluff, has received a lieutenant's 
 commission, and is now in Worcester County 
 raising recruits ; and Sergeants Taft of Co. II, 
 and Shumway of Co. E, are on their way 
 thqre for the same purpose. 
 
 " The papers state thaf. we have removed our 
 camp one mile from Poolesville, and are set- 
 tled for the winter in log huts. I liadn't 
 heard of it before, and don't expect to, though 
 the general impression seems to be that we 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 121 
 
 shall remain here but a short tune, but not 
 go into winter quarters. We have enjoyed 
 another week of Indian summer, which ended 
 Idst night with heavy rahi. 
 
 '' Please ask the ladies to make the mittens 
 with a forefinger, so that the soldiers can 
 handle their muskets in tliem. How kind it 
 is of them to attend to all our little wants 
 with so much alacrity and earnestness ! It 
 makes another home-tie, whose influence 
 counteracts the hardening effects of camp 
 life. But I am getting toward home, and 
 must subscribe myself. Yours, &c., 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 Winter overtook the 15th Regiment 
 in the same quarters. On the 2d of 
 Dec, Lieutenant Derby wrote a letter 
 to his youthful niece, which is tran- 
 scribed to show his sprightly style of 
 addressing his young correspondents. 
 His winning, encouraging words and 
 manner, in speaking or writing to the 
 young, made his presence and letters 
 always welcome. 
 
122 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 " My dear Annie, — I received your note 
 of Nov. 12th, and will answer it this evening, 
 instead of writing to mother and Ellen. You 
 get along very well at letter-writing. . . . Can 
 you read my answers all by yourself? If not, 
 I must try to write more plainly. I think it 
 is a very good idea for you to keep a journal, 
 if you try to improve in your handwriting, 
 and in your mode of expressing yourself. 
 
 " Hoffman Collamore wrote me that you spent 
 the afternoon at his mother's, and went to the 
 Museum. Did you have a pleasant time ? and 
 what did you see at the Museum ? . . . I 
 shall be very much pleased to receive a pair 
 of socks of your knitting. Mother says they 
 are to be very nice ones. An old slave wo- 
 man is footing a pair of legs ; and, when I get 
 them all together, I shall have a good winter's 
 supply. We have not gone into winter quar- 
 ters, as the papers stated, but I suppose we 
 soon shall. General Banks is going to Fred- 
 ericktown with his soldiers. See if you can 
 find the place on your map of Maryland. We 
 have built a log cabin for our guard to live 
 in. It is very much like the one I had in 
 Mumesota, but is roofed with straw instead of 
 earth. 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 123 
 
 " Sanday morning, we could see the moun- 
 tains to the north and west of us all white 
 with snow ; and the winds blew from them like 
 winter. I hear that there has been sleighing 
 already in Massachusetts. Have you had a 
 sleigh-ride ? Give my love to all, and believe 
 
 me your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 Thus simple and natural were his 
 epistles to the children of his sister ; 
 for whom he ever felt a fatherly in- 
 terest, and whom he sought, by exam- 
 ple and precept, to train for usefulness. 
 The letter to Annie was accompanied 
 by a sketch of the guard-house. 
 
 On Dec. 15th, Lieutenant Derby 
 writes from thence to his mother and 
 only sister, — 
 
 " It is a leisure Sunday, and I may as well 
 write home as do nothing but read. We have 
 had a sudden change in weather from south 
 wind to north ; but still the weather is not se- 
 
124 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 vere. My friend Clark writes that there has 
 been some skating near Boston, but there lias 
 been nothing like it here. We have a good 
 board floor in both our tents, and a cast-iron 
 stove in place of our sheet-iron one, for con- 
 venience in cooking. It is a cross between 
 our ornamental parlor stove and a useful 
 kitchen ditto. We had a joint of beef 
 cooked in the oven to-day. The prunes 
 which you sent were very nice. I told Wes- 
 ley (our servant) we could have some of 
 them stewed for supper ; and he cooked them 
 all at once, and served them up in our largest 
 oval platter in the centre of the tea-table. 
 
 I will go up town some day, and see if the 
 artist that keeps a ' daguerrotype shop on 
 wheels ' can take a miniature on mailable 
 material. If he can, I will send you one. . . . 
 Ellen is just a little too late for a lock of my 
 hair. I had it cut only a few days ago, and 
 that's why I'm going to have my picture taken 
 now. 
 
 I still keep possession of my fork. It was 
 in my haversack with my spoon and case- 
 knife. I put them in my pocket before I 
 took to the witer. I will enumerate the ar- 
 ticles I had about me while swimming, just 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 125 
 
 for your entertainment ; and you will wonder 
 I floated as long as I did. 
 
 " Tlic three items just named, my large jack- 
 knii'e, liorn pocket-comb, about a half-pound 
 of gold and silver coin, a package of enve- 
 lopes, a large memorandum book, a handful 
 of bullets, a metallic box of caps, a flask of 
 powder, watcli, and all my clotlies except my 
 boots. I ought to have saved my canteen as 
 a life-preserver ; but I did not think of it, and 
 threw it away. 
 
 " The report is that we arc to have officers to 
 fdl the places of those who are prisoners. It 
 will be a great relief, for we are very short for 
 officers. The adjutant will take his place to- 
 morrow, probably ; but I shall not have to go 
 on guard duty till I get tlirough drilling the 
 recruits. 
 
 " Prof. Lowe has been up here with his recon- 
 noitring balloon, and made an ascension. I 
 don't know that he made any important dis- 
 coveries. 
 
 " I have consigned mj flying squirrels to the 
 company kitchen. They were unsociable ani- 
 mals, and trouljlesome to take care of. They 
 very seldom made their appearance till after 
 candle-light, and then scud to their nests the 
 
126 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 moment any one attempted lo make tlicir ac- 
 quaintance. In company K, they have an oivl 
 in a cage, and that is the latest pet. 
 
 " Our chaplain is still in Massachusetts. 
 He assists in recruiting, by delivering address- 
 es in the towns of Worcester County. . . . 
 
 " You musn't expect to see me home on a fur- 
 lough this winter. Officers are not allowed 
 leave of absence except on most urgent occa- 
 sions. I thought, from the tone of Ellen's letter, 
 she was hoping I should come home this winter. 
 Give my regards to friends ; and with love to 
 all, I remain your affectionate son and brother, 
 
 " Richard." ^ 
 
 Three days after Christmas, we find 
 him again writing to a Boston paper. 
 
 " To THE Editor of the Boston Journal, — 
 
 " We still linger at our summer residence, 
 with the prospect now of spending winter here. 
 But the past month has been so mild that I 
 could hardly realize it was December, till last 
 Monday, when the storm burst upon us with 
 boisterous fury. The sleet and wind battered 
 and rattled the canvas in a style any thing but 
 soothing to a nervous person. The frost came 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 127 
 
 in season to clinch the tent-pins, and save us 
 from a general wreck. 
 
 ''The surface of the camp streets and parade 
 ground, that had become so smooth and neat, 
 are covered with mud and hobbles ; unlucki- 
 ly, too, just as the division inspector, Col. 
 Dana, arrives, and we want to look our pretti- 
 est. Our new Sibley tents (conical) will do 
 something to promote that desirable end. 
 They are very neat in appearance, and make 
 more comfortable quarters than any other pat- 
 tern. Immediately after it became known 
 that we were to winter here, the requisition 
 was made, the tents drawn, issued to the com- 
 panies, and pitched. Thanks to a live quarter- 
 master ! 
 
 " A bake-house has also been built ; and the 
 men now receive fresh bread, of excellent qual- 
 ity. Nothing is wanting to make them com- 
 fortable, yet they receive all these things as if 
 they grew spontaneously. The quartermas- 
 ter's is a thankless office : if he fails in the 
 smallest particular in providing, everybody 
 knows it, and pitches into him ; and if he is 
 always on the mark, nobody notices it. 
 
 " A gang of ' navvies ' are at work putting up 
 a blockhouse in front of Harrison's Island, for 
 
128 THE YOUNG volunteeh. 
 
 the accommodation of our pickets. It is built 
 of hewn oak timber, in the form of an equilat- 
 eral cross, sixteen feet on a side, and nine in 
 height, loopholed and roofed with earth to ren- 
 der it bomb-proof. It attracts a great deal of 
 attention from the other side, and they have 
 made themselves busy of late in erecting 
 counter-batteries. It must be a strong tempta- 
 tion to use their big guns, but nothing will 
 tempt them to fire a shot. Gen. Stone occa- 
 sionally drives them out of their intrench- 
 ments, but gets no answer. 
 
 " Something has been done towards filling up 
 regiments. About one hundred recruits have 
 arrived, but we need many more. Pray don't 
 discourage volunteers before they get out of 
 Massachusetts. One of our non-commissioned 
 officers, who had occasion to visit Camp Came- 
 ron recently, reports that he fared worse, had 
 less comfortable quarters, and was treated 
 more roughly, than ever in the 15th. Many 
 are frightened out of enlisting under Gen. 
 Stone by the stories in circulation about him. 
 Half the lies that are told, if they were truths, 
 would have sunk him long ago ; and now they 
 have saddled the ' everlasting nigger ' upon 
 him. 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 129 
 
 ^' I am well acquainted with the facts of tlie 
 case, which gave rise to the report that he had 
 returned contrabands to rebels ; and perliaps 
 your readers may be interested in a brief state- 
 ment of them. 
 
 " On the day of the battle of Ball's Bluff, the 
 scouts of the Mass. 20th captured two unarmed 
 negroes, and sent them to the Maryland side. 
 They belonged to a Mr. Smart, Avho soon after 
 wrote to Gen. Stone, saying he believed the 
 negroes were carried away against their will, 
 requesting him to give them permission to re- 
 turn. Just then it was not prudent to allow 
 them to cross, but at a proper time Gen. Stone 
 told them they were at liberty to go back to 
 their master if they chose. Their answer was 
 natural enough. ' Well, massa, you know a 
 man likes to be where his wife and Chilians is ; 
 and Massa Smart alius been good to us, and I 
 reckons we'll go back to him.' 
 
 " They went with the next flag of truce, but 
 the rebels refused to allow them within their 
 lines, and they were obliged to return to our 
 side. Mr. Smart has the reputation of being a 
 Union man, which probably accounts for the 
 strange conduct of the rebel officers. Was 
 there any thing in Gen. Stone's action in the 
 
130 THE TOUNO VOLUNTEER, 
 
 least degree illegal, injudicious, or inhuman ? 
 While the Home Guard pick flaws in his man- 
 agement, lie keeps about his business ; and when 
 it comes to the fight, if officers will obey orders, 
 he will make a good commander. 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 Another letter to a young relative is 
 here inserted, as a specimen of his pleas- 
 ant manner of imparting knowledge to 
 
 children. 
 
 " Camp Foster, Jan. 19, 1862. 
 
 " My dear Nephew, — I think you must be 
 looking for an answer to your letter of Dec. 
 28, and I will spend a few spare minutes before 
 it is dark in writing to you. If you were out 
 here, you would have a dull time of it. We 
 have a little snow, then plenty of rain, and 
 more than enough of mud, so you would have 
 to stay in the tent most all the time. I think 
 jou would like the music that our band gives 
 us. They play three or four times every day, 
 and do it very finely. 
 
 "These little three-cornered letters that I 
 send you are orders that tell us what we have 
 got to do. I can tell you in letters a great 
 
THE TO UNO VOLUNTEER. 131 
 
 deal about military matters, so that you can 
 learn something even if you do stay at home. 
 What do you suppose the men have to cat ? 
 
 ^' Every man has each day one and a quarter 
 pounds fresh or salt beef, or three-fourths of a 
 pound of pork ; one pound of hard bread like 
 crackers, or twenty-two ounces of baker's bread ; 
 beans or rice or hominy ; sugar, coffee, or 
 tea ; candles, soap, salt, and vinegar, and 
 sometimes molasses and potatoes. I don't 
 mean that they eat soap or candles ; but that is 
 a part of what is called a ration. The quar- 
 termaster of the regiment gets all these things 
 from the brigade quartermaster ; and he gets 
 them from Washington. Our quartermaster 
 keeps the provisions in a large tent, like a great 
 store ; and officers of each company go there 
 every morning, and draw what their company 
 needs that day. The men's clothing is pro- 
 vided in tlie same way, and each man can have 
 about forty dollars' worth a year ; but if he 
 needs more he will have to pay for it. The 
 commissioned officers have to buy their own 
 provisions and clothing. Do you remember 
 tliat I wore, at Camp Scott, dark-blue panta- 
 loons ? Well, now we are ordered to wear 
 licjhiAAxLQ^ like the privates. A photographer 
 
132 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 has come to Poolesville, and I think I shall 
 send you my likeness. You would hardly 
 know me in an army hat and overcoat, I'm 
 afraid. 
 
 " I hope you will keep on writing to me, and 
 write your letters all yourself, as you have 
 done. Give my love to your sisters, and both 
 mothers, and save some for yourself. 
 " Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 Nearly another month of winter had 
 now passed away ; and still our young 
 volunteer is patient at his post. A letter 
 dated Jan. 24 gives an idea of his situa- 
 tion and feelings. He says, — 
 
 " I am keeping ' bachelor's hall' since Lieuten- 
 ant J. left. . . . General Lander has gone up 
 somewhere in the vicinity of the IStli. The 
 victory at Somerset is a cause of great rejoi- 
 cing. If IV e can't do any thing here, we are 
 glad to see somebody making progress. 
 
 " "We are in daily expectation of marching 
 orders ; but how it will be possible to move, 
 with the face of the country in its present con- 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 133 
 
 dition, I cannot imagine. But the ^natives' 
 assure us there will be no improvement till 
 late in the spring. We've had nothing but 
 storm for nearly a week. To-night, for varie- 
 ty, we have sleet ; and the wind drives it like 
 pins and needles. The poor fellows on guard 
 have a hard time of it ; but that is a part of 
 their duty as much as fighting is. 
 
 " I have bought a pair of rubber boots that 
 reach above my knees, and large enough to 
 admit of wearing two pair of socks ; and now I 
 can go through mud, and stand in the water 
 with any of them. We have all donned the 
 army hat, — an elaborate head-gear of lace and 
 
 featlicrs, costing us ten dollars apiece 
 
 We had a funeral in camp this afternoon. A 
 private of Co. G, who died of measles, which 
 is getting quite prevalent in this regiment, was 
 buried with military honors. It is a very im- 
 posing ceremony. The colonel, in the absence 
 of the chaplain, reads the Episcopal service. 
 The band and the muffled drums play a dirge 
 as the procession moves to the grave, where 
 tliree volleys are fired over the coffin by the 
 escort, which varies in size according to the 
 rank of tlie deceased. The inhabitants of 
 Foolesville, who refuse to attend our dress 
 
134 TEE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 parades and reviews, seem to take some inter- 
 est in a funeral : perhaps because tliere is one 
 more Union man dead and out of their way. 
 
 " I don't know how far Perrysville is from us ; 
 but, if it were only ten miles, it is too far for 
 me to visit Mrs. G. I am all alone now, and 
 I don't like to leave my company for a day ; 
 and leave of absence is no longer granted ex- 
 cept in urgent cases. 
 
 " Ellen wouldn't like to have me try to grant 
 the request she makes for a piece of wood from 
 near the spot where I landed when I swam the 
 Potomac ! None of our soldiers go within at 
 least half a mile of the place, and more than 
 half the width of the Potomac to cross. No 
 troops, either Union or rebel, have occupied 
 Harrison's Island since the second day after the 
 fight at Ball's Bluff; when Captain Philbrick, 
 with a small party, tried to recover some tools 
 left there, and the rebel cavalry forded the 
 Virginia branch, and would have captured him 
 if he hadn't retreated at ' double-quick.' I 
 will try to find some little memento of the fight 
 to send to Ellen. 
 
 "If you have not sent my box, please buy for 
 me some kind of a simple game for two little 
 boys, about seven and ten years old, children 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 135 
 
 of a Mrs. White with whom I boarded in town. 
 She has been very kind to me ; and I would 
 like to please her boys by a little present. 
 
 " I am writing, you will see, on very large 
 paper, because it came handiest. My note- 
 paper is running low, although I brought out 
 a ream of it ; but now Government furnishes 
 more paper than we can use, and this is a 
 sheet of it. 
 
 " I am very glad Manuela and Annie are 
 skating this winter. It is an excellent exer- 
 cise, if judiciously used. I haven't seen a pair 
 of skates this winter, though they do have such 
 things here occasionally." 
 
 With " stormy March " came orders to 
 march again. The following extracts are 
 from a letter penned at camp near Boli- 
 var, Ya., March 19, 1862 : — 
 
 " My dear Mother, — I wrote you from Ber- 
 ryville, Va., and the next morning I received 
 yours of March 7, which was the last ; but we 
 expect another mail soon. We marched the 
 next day to within two miles' of Winchester ; 
 and, b/^fore we had finished preparation for 
 
136 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 camping, were ordered back to BerryTille, from 
 which place we moved back to Bolivar, near 
 the spot where we were stationed on the way 
 up. We are entirely in the dark now as to 
 our next move. All sorts of rumors are in 
 circulation, sending us to all points, from Ken- 
 tucky to Port Royal. They are taking away 
 our teams, reducing transportation, and cut- 
 ting down our baggage to almost nothing. . . 
 I should not be surprised if we went down to 
 Hoanoke and joined Gen. Burnside. We have 
 just heard of Burnside's victory at Newbern. 
 We are getting so accustomed to good news 
 that it fails to make as great sensation as at 
 
 first ; but we are not the less pleased 
 
 I send a Confederate postage-stamp for the 
 children's collection. It is a lithograph of 
 Jeff. Davis." 
 
 In the above letter he says, " Captain 
 Bowman is still absent ;" so that his for- 
 mer schoolmate was not drowned, as was 
 feared. 
 
 The next letter in the possession of 
 the writer of this sketch is dated at 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 137 
 
 Yorktown, Ya., May 6, 1862, and, as 
 usual, was addressed to his mother and 
 sister. He says, — 
 
 " We have taken Yorktown without fight- 
 ing. The papers, of course, give you the maiu 
 features of the event. Sunday morning it 
 was our turn to go on picket ; but, before we 
 got to our station, scouts came galloping in, 
 announcing that not a rebel was in sight I 
 We struck camp immediately, and marched 
 over into the enemy's works, opposite our post, 
 and camped again yesterday noon. At six 
 o'clock last evening, we received marching 
 orders ; and after standing and paddling in 
 the mud till three o'clock in the morning, ad- 
 vancing only about a mile, we were ordered to 
 return to camp, and ^ make ourselves comfort- 
 able till morning.' 
 
 " You can imagine what that would be after a 
 steady rain of twenty-four hours, during which 
 we had struck and marched and camped, and 
 struck and marclied and camped again. The 
 army is in fine spirits. I never saw the men 
 so enthusiastic. Every one seems to think 
 now that we shall soon p/it an end to the war, 
 and be sent home. 
 
138 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 " The rebel earthworks are tremendous, — 
 fort after fort of the strongest kind, and 
 mounted with abundance of heavy artillery ; 
 but ours is so superior in range, that they 
 could not withstand them. The guns which 
 they make at Richmond are very poor affairs. 
 Five of them lie here in fragments, burst by 
 the overcharges in attempting to reach our 
 batteries. The scoundrels buried bombshells 
 and torpedoes in every road and all parts of 
 the fortifications ; so that, when we first entered, 
 numbers were killed by their explosions. I 
 had a very narrow escape from one. I went 
 up to one of the guns that had burst, to exam- 
 ine it ; and, a few minutes after, a soldier on the 
 same errand trod on a torpedo, and the shell 
 exploded, throwing him ten feet into the air, 
 tearing off one leg, and burning him black as 
 a negro ! The papers report only two killed in 
 that way, but there have been many of them. 
 
 " We are to embark on board transports for 
 eome unknown destination, probably West 
 'I^oint, and are now resting in line near the 
 wharf. The army is in splendid condition. 
 Everything is on the move. General McClellan 
 is in high favor. It is ' Onward to Richmond ' 
 now. 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 139 
 
 " Save the enclosed circular. I found it in 
 the fort we liave been besieging the past three 
 weeks. Enclosed I send sister Ellen a trifle, 
 which she can appropriate as she likes. Per- 
 haps she has some pet object in view which it 
 will help her to accomplish." 
 
 In that last sentence spoke the thought- 
 ful and generous brother ; for whom his 
 only and beloved sister may well mourn. 
 Such rare spirits are always missed in 
 the home-circle, if not elsewhere. 
 
 Lieutenant Derby correctly stated the 
 enthusiasm of the army. 
 
 "Never did military expedition set out 
 under more favorable auspices than the Penin- 
 sula campaign in the spring of 1862. Victory 
 had perched upon the Union banner in a 
 series of momentous battles. Farragut's naval 
 achievements, transcending the rules of mili- 
 tary science, as genius, and genius only, had 
 power to do, had sailed by the embattled forts, 
 and seized the Ore sent City. This glorious 
 feat wrought up the zeal of the Union forces 
 
140 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 to a high pitch of enthusiasm, while it dealt tc 
 rebellion a stunning blow, and little was needed 
 to crush it forever. 
 
 "An immense army started to go up the 
 Peninsula, fired with martial ardor, and 
 flushed with hope. The enemy were in no 
 spirit nor force to resist its onward march. 
 But the great expedition paused before York- 
 town, and, observing the most cautious rules 
 of military science, advanced upon the place 
 with the progressive parallels of a siege, as if 
 it had the strength of Sebastopol. But the 
 heart of the enemy failed them, and they evac- 
 uated. They were slowly and cautiously pur- 
 sued. They were vanquished in the battle of 
 Williamsburg ; but advantage was not taken 
 of victory to strike an effectual blow. Slowly 
 feeling their way, the Union forces advanced. 
 The enemy meanwhile, by this dilatory prog- 
 ress, gained heart and time and re-enforce- 
 ments. When Yorktown was evacuated, 
 Riijhmond had been almost destitute. But 
 time had been given to concentrate forces 
 there, and make fortifications. Within a few 
 miles of Richmond, the bloody field of Fair 
 Oaks was fought, and the discomfited foe fled 
 to the city. The rebels talked of evacuating 
 
THE YOUNG VOLVNTEER. 141 
 
 the capital, and all expected it to fall ; but the 
 Union army did not seize the occasion to 
 attack it. Slowly approaching, the Federals 
 came so near, that the clocks of the city could 
 be heard in the Union camp as they struck the 
 hours ; and from a high tree, known as the 
 ' signal-tree,' its buildings could be discerned. 
 " But the enemy had been re-enforced, not 
 only by men, but by midsummer, which had 
 been permitted to come upon the Union arm)^ 
 breeding pestilence in its marshy camp. This 
 ally, in a heart-sickening, inglorious way, laid 
 more brave Union soldiers under the sod than 
 all the balls and bullets of the rebellion. The 
 enemy soon made a concentrated attack, leav- 
 ing Richmond feebly guarded. Now com- 
 menced a strategic movement, as it has been 
 called; by which the Union army was with' 
 drawn, badly shattered, to the protection of 
 the gunboats. The right wing, as they retired, 
 fully believed that the other wing was being 
 hurled upon Richmond : but in this belief they 
 were destined to cruel disappointment ; and 
 they arrived, weary and broken, at the river- 
 banks, to learn that the day was lost, the most 
 reasonable anticipations of victory rendered 
 vain, and one of the largest armies known to 
 
142 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 history, composed of a rank and file of un- 
 equalled vigor and endurance, reduced to a 
 shadow." * 
 
 Chaplain Fuller, who was with the 
 16th Mass. Kegiment in the Peninsula 
 campaign, was a friend of Lieutenant 
 Derby ; and they were at Yorktown to- 
 gether, — the chaplain visiting Yorktown 
 after it was evacuated, while his regi- 
 ment yet remained in the vicinity of 
 Norfolk. The chaplain thus wrote of 
 the encampment before Yorktown: — 
 
 " Three times have I visited McClellan's 
 grand and noble army. . . . The roads fear- 
 ful beyond belief or expression ; the uncouth 
 specimens of Southern ' chivalry,' and coarse, 
 vehement Secession women ; the rich soil, 
 almost wholly untilled, and evidencing years 
 of agricultural neglect, — these have been too 
 often described by correspondents to require 
 any recital on my part. ... I am stopping 
 at the far-famed Nelson House; which Lord 
 
 * E. F. Fuller, ia his " Memoir of Chaplain Fuller.'* 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEEJl. 143 
 
 Coriiwallis occupied, while in York town, in 
 1781. It is now occupied as a hospital; and 
 in these rooms, which once were filled with 
 British officers, and hut a few days ago with 
 Jefferson Davis, Magruder, and other rebel 
 generals, now our sick officers and soldiers 
 of the loyal army can be found." 
 
 But the chaplain and the lieutenant 
 soon left Yorktown for the rebel capital. 
 During the battle before Richmond, the 
 15th Regiment was under fire for three 
 successive days. Previous to leaving 
 Poolesville, Lieutenant Derby had been 
 commissioned as 1st lieutenant. He was 
 soon placed in command of Co. C ; and 
 early in August, 1862, a captain's com- 
 mission was made out for him ; but it 
 did not arrive in camp till the word 
 had gone forth, from higher than mor- 
 tal source, — 
 
 " Soldier, go home : for thee the fight is won I " 
 
 His mother, whose anxiety during that 
 
144 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 terrible Peninsula campaign may be im- 
 agined, but not described, received from 
 him, at last, a letter dated "Harrison's 
 Landing, James River, Va., July 4, 1862," 
 in which he says, — 
 
 " I received your letter containing Annie's 
 and the photograph last Friday, while out on 
 picket ; and since then I can assure you there 
 has been little time for writing. We contin- 
 ued on active duty until Saturday night ; when 
 we deserted our camp, and commenced the re- 
 treat for James River. General Sumner's corps 
 being the reserve, it became our duty to act as 
 rear guard : at Savage's Station, we had some- 
 tliing of an engagement, though I don't know 
 what the loss amounted to. After dark, we 
 continued our march ; and, by Monday after- 
 noon, nearly half our regiment had given out, 
 exhausted by heat, fatigue, and want of sleep, 
 -^ myself included among them. I was obliged 
 to go to the baggage-train, and ride down here; 
 and have not yet returned to duty." 
 
 To those who remember the slight 
 
THE TOUNG rOLV^TEER. 145 
 
 but agile frame of this young officer, 
 it will seem surprising that he could 
 endure so much as he did. His letter 
 continues : — 
 
 '* I am with Major Pliilbrick, two captains, 
 and three other lieutenants ; all of us comfort- 
 able invalids. My stomach and liver seem to 
 be out of order ; but now that we are out of 
 the swamp, and have a chance to rest, I expect 
 to return to the company very soon. 
 
 " The retreat was a tremendous undertaking, 
 and cost us a large number of lives, and an 
 immense amount of property. The fighting 
 was continued for nearly a week. I was 
 under fire for three days, — Friday, Saturday, 
 and Sunday ; but the Lord sees fit to preserve 
 me still ! The scenes along the line of the 
 retreat exceed any thing that can be ima 
 gined ! If the authorities would permit them 
 to be described, no pen could give an adcquato 
 idea of them. When you see a ship-load of 
 wounded landed at the Northern cities, you 
 see comfort and perfect happiness compared 
 with a field hospital, which must be deserted, 
 and left in the hands of the enemy. The sick 
 
146 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 and wounded here are being cared for as fast 
 as possible ; but the rain of two days caused 
 much additional suffering. I think the scurvy 
 is prevalent, though not much is said about it 
 here. 
 
 " There are plenty of gunboats lying here, 
 which effectually prevents any attack on this 
 point ; and re-enforcements are arriving." 
 
 For a humorous conclusion of his 
 letter, he appends the following post- 
 script : — 
 
 " An old darky woman furnished us with 
 an Independence dinner to-day. Bill of Fare : 
 Stewed Hen, Hoe Cake, Farina Pudding, 
 Strawberry Preserve ; Drinks, — Muddy Water, 
 Doubtful Tea, Whiskey Punch. Thanks to 
 the Sanitary Commission for most of it, and 
 a dollar to the old woman for the rest." 
 
 One more letter in a sprightly strain, 
 and full of interrogations calculated to 
 help the maidens in their reply, is here 
 given : — 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 147 
 
 Camp near Harrison's Landing, Va., July 19, 1862. 
 
 "My dear Nieces, — I have three of your 
 letters packed away in my box, which I think 
 entitle you to at least one from me in answer. 
 
 " One of them (Annie's) I received quite 
 lately, just before we left Fair Oaks. I was 
 pleased to see the photograph of you and 
 Manuela ; but I don't think they were good 
 likenesses : the attitudes were very stiff. I 
 don't think it is a good plan to preserve such 
 pictures, because somebody may see them, and 
 think you really looked like that. 
 
 " Your Fourth-of-July celebration was a 
 very successful one, I should think, judging 
 from your programme and the account in 
 the papers. I hope you enjoyed it as well as 
 you expected to. I have often been in the 
 grove where you had the picnic. When I 
 lived in West Newton, I used to walk over 
 there to bathe in BuUough's Pond ; and that 
 was where I learned to swim. Then there 
 were no houses nor roads near ; but now I 
 believe there are quite a number of country 
 seats' on the hills overlooking the water. I 
 RT'uld like to have you write me again, and 
 tell me how you enjoyed the day. 
 
 *•! suppose the summi^r term of your school 
 
 10 
 
148 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 is ended and that you are now having a long 
 vacation. What are you going to do to pass 
 ofif six weeks of dog-days ? Do you go berry- 
 ing at all ? Have you had any sails on the 
 river ? What kind of a garden have you this 
 year ? — both flowers and vegetables ? Do the 
 fruit-trees bear well ? Does Henry have a 
 piece of land of his own to cultivate ? and 
 what does lie raise ? You may invite him to 
 answer that himself, and write as much more 
 as he chooses. 
 
 " What kind of stories are those you say 
 you write ? I should like very much to read 
 one of them. You ought not to write any 
 that you know are poor : you should always 
 do your best. Do you keep up your interest 
 in postage-stamp collections ? I send you. two 
 of Jefferson Davis, and some of the larger 
 denomination of United States : I enclose 
 also a note of a South-Carolina bank. The 
 Jefferson Davis stamps and the note beylonged 
 to a wounded Georgian whom we took care 
 of at Fair Oaks, but wlio died before he could 
 be carried to the hospital. 
 
 " There has been no fighting since we 
 camped here. The whole army is resting 
 and waiting for re-cnforcements from the 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 149 
 
 North. Do you read the newspapers so as 
 to know what is going on in this country ? or 
 do you think it isn't best to trouble your 
 brains about it ? I should like to have you 
 trouble them enough, however, to write me 
 a nice, long letter as soon as you find time ; 
 and with much love, I remain your affection- 
 ate uncle, 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 Harrison's Landing, the place where 
 Lieutenant Derby had now paused with 
 his compatriots in their retreat, was also 
 the temporary field of labor for his 
 friend Chaplain Fuller, who thus re- 
 ferred to the scenes there : — 
 
 " I have been at the hospital for most of 
 the past week, not as a patient, but caring, 
 to the best of my ability, for the wounded and 
 suffering sick of my own regiment, and the 
 countless number from the other various regi- 
 ments of the loyal army, scarce one of which 
 fails to lia.ve more or less representatives here. 
 
 " The scenes one is called to witness here are 
 terrible. Ghastly wounds innumerable greet 
 
150 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 
 
 the saddened vision ; men sick unto death 
 with swamp pestilential fevers, make their 
 weak moans asking for pity and for succor ; 
 exhausted soldiers, after four days' hard fight- 
 ing, with scarce any food, plead for a piece of 
 bread, or they must perish with hunger ; the 
 dying ask a word of counsel and of prayer, 
 and to transmit some message to wife, or 
 child, or mother, ere the last breath be drawn, 
 and the last sigh heave their panting bosoms. 
 The dead, too, lie on the earth, beneath the 
 sweet heavens ; and their dumb, passionless 
 forms require, as their once spirit-tenants 
 have deserved, that those bodies, lately in- 
 stinct with vigorous life, should be decently 
 buried. 
 
 " Beautifully situated is this building where 
 we now are. The James River flows silently 
 by, its gleaming waters whitened with count- 
 less sails wafting supplies to the hungry army ; 
 or else its placid face ruffled by the steamers 
 which come daily to the landing, bringing 
 hospital stores to the wounded and sick, and 
 returning down the stream laden with those 
 whose only hope of recovery or future useful- 
 ness lies in the revisiting of their homes, and 
 the solace of care and kindness there. Lofty 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 151 
 
 elms line the avenue which leads to this dwell- 
 ing ; and the gigantic cottonwood interlaces its 
 branches with the lordly oak, though causing 
 its vigor to decay, and blighting by its con- 
 tact. . . . Lovely as is this situation, it is 
 not more beautiful than the dwelling-house 
 which is in the centre of the town and its 
 skirting woods. The house is of ancient 
 birch, imported from England many years 
 since ; whence also came the carved panel- 
 work and cornices in the rooms. President 
 Harrison is reported to have been born in this 
 house : so it has an historic interest already, 
 and will have more in the future. It is ele- 
 gantly furnished with rosewood and black- 
 walnut furniture. Fine pictures look down 
 upon you from the walls ; and the library is 
 filled with costly volumes, many of them 
 books which have crossed the Atlantic ere 
 reaching here. 
 
 " Round the house cluster some twenty or 
 more whitewashed buildings, in which the one 
 hundred and twelve plantation slaves lived ; if 
 theirs can be called life, and not existence 
 only. The owner of this house and all its 
 surroundings ; the owner in man's sight, but 
 not God's, of all these human beings,— is Pow- 
 
152 THE YOUXG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 liatan B. Stark, M. D., now a surgeon in the 
 rebel army, and claiming to be a lineal de- 
 scendant of Pocahontas. He fled precip- 
 itously when our transports lined the shores ; 
 carrying off to Petersburg all the household 
 jewels, and the most valuable slaves also, and 
 ordering the house to be burned by those re- 
 maining, — an order they did not see fit to obey. 
 He told such slaves as could not be hurried 
 away, that, if they were asked by the Yan- 
 kees whether they wished to be free, to state 
 that ' they are, and always have been, as free 
 as they wanted to be.' That order, too, they 
 have failed to obey ; but shout hallelujahs over 
 their deliverance from a bondage, which, though 
 not as heavy as usual, was nevertheless griev- 
 ous, as slavery must ever be to the soul of a 
 man made in the image of God." * 
 
 On the 4tli of August, Lieutenant 
 Derby wrote to a dear friend a letter in 
 which the following passages occur : — 
 
 " I have two double-letters of yours unan- 
 swered, which I had promised myself the 
 
 * Memoir, page 272. 
 
THE TO UN a VOLUNTEER. 
 
 153 
 
 whole undisturbed afternoon to answer, after 
 taking a long walk and a refreshing bath this 
 morning by way of preparation : but the ad- 
 jutant comes down with the unwelcome an- 
 nouncement, ' that there will be a brigade drill 
 at 3 p. M. ;' which will probably upset both my 
 plan and my sanitary equilibrium. Tlie rebels 
 say that this is the hottest part of Virginia, 
 and our drill-ground is the very focus of the 
 region round about. ... We have had but 
 two events, of late, to remind us that we are 
 in the vicinity of an enemy. One night, about 
 a week ago, the sudden and rapid booming of 
 cannons and the whizzing of shells broke the 
 stillness of the night. The rebels had planted 
 a battery on the opposite side of the river, and 
 were blazing away at us with a vengeance. It 
 was some time before we got our big guns 
 to bear on them ; but we finally silenced them 
 without much damage. . . . Here is another 
 border: 'No brigade drill! prepare to move, 
 I— two days' rations in haversack, and sixty 
 rounds of ammunition:' so I must drop the 
 pen, and take up the sword. 
 
 "Thursday evemng. — Here I am, seated 
 again quietly in our old quarters, after^ a 
 three-days' picnic. Our expedition was in- 
 
154 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 tendel to surprise tlie rebels at Malvern Hill, 
 — the scene of the great battle of July 1st. 
 Our division was to march round a cross 
 country, and fall u})on their left flank, while 
 another moved directly upon their front. But 
 they were too wide-awake, and got wind of 
 the movement, so that they could withdraw 
 at pleasure. We marched most all Monday 
 night, taking a little nap just before morning, 
 and tlien advanced upon the enemy's pickets. 
 Firing began at daylight, and was kept up 
 pretty briskly for two hours. The 15th, with 
 its usual good luck, was in such a position as 
 not to be engaged, and did not lose a man. 
 Our post was an honorable one; and, if the 
 rebels had chosen to resist, it would have been 
 a bloody one. We bivouacked among the 
 graves of the killed of July 1st, — those of 
 the Confederates being single ; while those of 
 the Federals were huge trenches, where all 
 were tumbled in promiscuously, and some- 
 times barely covered with loose earth. All 
 the buildings in the vicinity were completely 
 riddled with rifle and cannon balls. All the 
 inhabitants, black and white, had fled. One 
 rich old planter left so many proofs of disloy- 
 alty, that we birrnt his dwelling and all his 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 155 
 
 out-buildings. Skirmishing was going on be- 
 tween ouL' cavalry scouts and the enemy's 
 pickets, day and night. When it became evi- 
 dent that we had drawn down from Richmond 
 a pretty strong force preparing to attack us, we 
 had gained all we wanted ; and, at 1.30 this 
 morning, we silently took our blankets on our 
 arms, and left, — arriving in camp early this 
 morning, tired, dusty, hungry, and sleepy. 
 After a bath, a meal, and a nap, ' Richard is 
 himself again,' and proceeds to refresh his 
 famished social nature with an epistolary chat 
 with the one whom he always seems to find in 
 a conversational mood. 
 
 " I can't leave the subject of the war yet. 
 The poor success in recruiting, and the appar- 
 ent apathy of the North to the fate of the 
 army, had filled us with disgust, and even 
 harder feelings. But the new order for men, 
 and immediate action by drafting, cheers 
 every one like a great victory. Now it looks 
 as if something was to be done in earnest. . . 
 Our band is to be mustered out to-morrow, 
 and, this evening, is giving farewell serenades, 
 which interfere materially with my writing. 
 They are now playing 'Ever of Thee,' — a 
 beautiful tune, that I am willing to devote a 
 
156 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 good share of my precious time to hearing. 
 I call my time ' precious ' because I ought to 
 be sleeping, preparatory to early work to-mor- 
 row morning. To-morrow is the anniversary 
 of our departure from Massachusetts. I hope 
 to dine with General Devens, who has invited 
 me to a dinner-party he gives in honor of the 
 day. . . . Many thanks for Bayard Taylor's 
 song. I remember, now, of having seen it 
 some time ago, and thinking it very beautiful. 
 But Morpheus conquers me. I must hasten 
 to my blanket : I can't call it a bed. Good- 
 night. Yours ever, 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 On the 11th of August, Captain Derby 
 (for such he may now be called, as his 
 commission was dated Aug. 6th, 1862) 
 again wrote from Harrison's Landing : — 
 
 "We are again under marching orders ; i. e., 
 to hold ourselves in readiness to move at 2 
 o'clock this afternoon ; destination not stated. 
 We do not always march when we receive 
 such orders ; but the indications now are 
 quite strong that we are going somewhere. 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 157 
 
 Every one is guessing; and the goneral im- 
 pression is, that the whole army is going down 
 the James River to Fortress Monroe. . . The 
 dinner at Gen. Devens's was a very pleasant 
 affair indeed.' There were about twenty pres- 
 ent ; and we spent nearly four hours in social 
 enjoyment. . . . Major Philbrick has gone 
 home, on twenty days' leave of absence, on 
 account of sickness. Mr. Scandhn has at 
 last bid us 'good-by.' We shall miss him 
 sadly. He went down the river yesterday. 
 The weather is hotter than ever experienced 
 before ; but there is not so much sickness as 
 when we first came here. Flies swarm on us 
 like the plagues of Egypt. They are almost 
 intolerable. We have to blow them out of 
 our tents with gunpowder." 
 
 It will be seen by the above letter, 
 that his former captain and colonel, as 
 well as himself, had met with deserved 
 promotion. 
 
 On the 27th, he again writes, dating 
 "On Transport Mississippi, of! Aquia 
 Creek, Potomac River;" and says, — 
 
158 THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER, 
 
 " We broke up our camp at Newport News, 
 Sunday morning, and marched down to the 
 landing. Monday morning, we went on board 
 the steamer " Mississippi," — a large, commodi- 
 ous boat, built to run between Boston and New 
 Orleans. This morning, we arrived at the 
 mouth of Aquia Creek, and now — three 
 p. M. — the order has just been issued to dis- 
 embark. There are three regiments on board 
 (about twenty-three hundred men) ; and, ours 
 being the last, we may not get off till morn- 
 ing. We shall probably go direct to Freder- 
 icksburg, as there is railroad communication 
 with that point. Our voyage has been of 
 great benefit to us ; giving us good rest at 
 night, and mattressed berths, and pretty good 
 fare at table. I expect we have got to go into 
 rough living again ; but it won't be as bad as 
 what we have seen. Tlie hottest part of the 
 season is past, and Northern Virginia is not 
 as unhealthy as the Peninsula. Everybody is 
 glad to get out of that swampy desert." 
 
 Thus lie looked on the bright side. 
 A postscript says, — 
 
 "Alexandria, Ya., Thursday morning. — The 
 
THE YOUNG VOLUNTEER. 159 
 
 first boat-load sent ashore at Aquia Creek re- 
 turned with orders to proceed to Alexandria ; 
 and here we are, lying in the stream opposite 
 the city. We shall probably land during the 
 day." 
 
 Here may this chapter fittingly close. 
 Long as it is, surely it has not wearied 
 those who have traced, with an appre- 
 ciative eye, the course of the young pa- 
 triot; and certainly it has been long 
 enough to disclose, in the frank and 
 candid expressions of epistolary com- 
 munion with a beloved mother and 
 sister far away, that fidelity to duty, 
 that ability of service, and that seldom- 
 spoken but faithfully-acted devotion to 
 the cause of his country, which was ever 
 worn as a robe of strength and beauty 
 by the young volunteer. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ANTIETAM. 
 
 " Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori." 
 
 " There is no death : what seems so is transition. 
 This life of mortal breath 
 Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 
 Whose portals we call death." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 «' Sadly and wearily toe wait 
 
 A gleam of peace first dawning ; 
 To him, from midnight clouds, burst forth 
 The calm, eternal morning." 
 
 Mrs. Arthur B. Fuller. 
 
 HE earthly service of the 
 young volunteer was now 
 almost ended. He could 
 have said with Paul, in 
 more than one sense, " I 
 am now ready to be offered, 
 and the time of my departure 
 is at hand. I have fought a good fight ; 
 
 160 
 
ANTIETAM. 161 
 
 I have finished my course ; . . . . hence- 
 forth there is laid up for me a crown." 
 Not as ^n Alexander, nor as a Napoleon, 
 had he fought, — with the lust of conquest 
 in his soul; but as a William Tell or a 
 Henry Havelock, — with his young, ar- 
 dent, hopeful spirit stirred with the dear 
 love of liberty, and cheered by the pure 
 faith of the Christian. Constitutionally 
 reticent in the expression of religious 
 emotion or patriotic fervor, he was yet 
 ever actuated by holy principle and an 
 unfaltering love for the " dear old flag." 
 He was soon to seal his attachment to 
 the Union cause with his blood. 
 
 On the very morning of the battle of 
 Antiefam, — a day which will be ever 
 memorable in many sad hearts, many 
 desolated homes, — his mother received 
 a letter, from which the following ex- 
 tracts are made. Even as she read it, 
 
162 ANTIETAM. 
 
 the hope of her widowhood was going 
 forth to the conflict with returnless steps. 
 The letter was dated "Frederick City, 
 Md., four P.M., Sept. 13, 1862;" and he 
 writes, — 
 
 " My dear Mother, — We have just marched 
 through the city, and are bivouacking in the 
 clover-fields near by. There has been a run- 
 ning fight between our advance of cavalry and 
 flying artillery all day, but several miles from 
 us. We could see the smoke of the cannon- 
 ading on the mountains across the valley as we 
 came down into Frederick ; but it has gone 
 over to the west side now. What the rebels 
 mean by their movements, is a mystery ; and 
 of course our movements depend upon theirs ; 
 and I cannot tell where we shall go next. 
 There was a rumor in the regiment this morn- 
 ing, that our brigade would occupy the city 
 as a sort of provost-guard ; but I see no signs 
 of it. If we do remain here, we shall make the 
 most of it to jit up and fat up.'' 
 
 A few remarks in regard to a box, 
 
ANTIETAM, 163 
 
 which his never-forgetful friends at home 
 had sent to him, will give a vivid idea of 
 the state in which such boxes often reach 
 our heroes in the camp. 
 
 " The box has come to hand at last. When 
 I opened it, I was quite annoyed that you did 
 not follow my directions in regard to putting 
 in perishable articles ; but, when I saw other 
 boxes whose contents were completely ruined, 
 I thought mine would do very well. The lem- 
 ons were so decayed that you could hardly tell 
 what they were ; and the can of raspberry 
 smelt like a bottle of ammonia, and had leaked 
 out a little. It was good luck that the cover 
 did not drop off, and spoil every thing. The 
 little crackers were all musty : but the cake 
 was still nice, and the sugar; but probably 
 the tea is infected, though I have not tried it 
 yet. One cannot send tea packed with other 
 articles, unless you put it in air-tight packages. 
 That which you sent before was clove tea when 
 T got it. The raisins are very nice ones, and 
 very palatable. I haven't had opportunity to 
 try the corn-starch ; but the jelly was nearly 
 eaten at the first opening. The ginger-wine 
 11 
 
164 ANTIETAM. 
 
 was terrible stuff. It is regular Thompsonian. 
 medicine. I had a man attacked with colic 
 just as I opened it ; and I administered a dose 
 with beneficial effects. The reason I wrote 
 not to send cocoa was because I had got tired 
 of it. It seems rather heavy for hot weather ; 
 but I can make good use of two boxes, as the 
 mornings are getting cool. The writing-case 
 was safe and sound. I should write on it now, 
 but it is back in the wagon. The socks will 
 just about carry me through the season. 
 
 "More than half the boxes sent out were a 
 mass of rottenness. Some contained eggs t 
 One had some Bologna sausages soaked in 
 * balm of Gilead ; ' which was in a thin bottle 
 next to them. They were not improved ! " 
 
 In regard to a cabinet specimen which 
 
 he sent home, he says, — 
 
 " That which looks like coral is a piece of 
 coral ; but how it came on Malvern Hill, I do 
 not know. Some parts of the Peninsula show 
 numerous signs of having been, at some former 
 period, covered with salt water. Whether that 
 was formed on the spot, or carted on in sea- 
 weed or guano, some geologist must deter- 
 mine. I saw several other similar pieces. 
 
ANTJETAM, 165 
 
 " I am happy to hear good news from Henry 
 Holden. I had not seen the first report con- 
 tradicted, I haven't time to-night to speak 
 about the prospects of the war and the coun- 
 try. . . . Walter is urging me to come to our 
 bread and milk, and I must close.'' 
 
 It is fitting that mention should here 
 be made of the young compatriot just 
 mentioned by Captain Derby. The first 
 report to which he refers was doubtless 
 in regard to his death, and was correct ; 
 for he passed to his eternal reward ten 
 days previous to the date of Captain 
 Derby's letter. The Rev. Edward P. 
 Thwing, his mother's pastor, preached in 
 Quincy, Mass., his funeral sermon on the 
 5th October, 1862. An extract from it 
 is appropriately placed upon pages de- 
 voted to the memory of his friend. 
 " They were lovely and pleasant in their 
 lives, and in death they were not " long 
 " divided." The following is the eloquent 
 
166 ANTIETAM. 
 
 tribute of the Rev. Mr. Thwing to the 
 memory of the friend and fellow-soldier 
 of Captain Derby : — 
 
 " Among the earliest of those who left us to 
 serve their native land was Henry Augustus 
 IIoLDEN. Hardly nineteen years of age, with 
 the noble spirit of self-sacrifice which the pres- 
 ent struggle has so widely developed, he broke 
 away from a circle of wliich he was the idoHzed 
 centre, and voluntarily assumed the hardships 
 of a soldier's life, far from the home which he 
 so fondly loved. Although, still earlier in life, 
 he had known something of absence from his 
 native place, his heart only the fonder clung 
 to this spot, — to brother and sister, and, above 
 all, to the widowed mother in whose affection- 
 ate confidence he had always so largely shared. 
 The dying injunction of his sainted father, 
 * Try to make lier happy,' had been a law of 
 his hfc, and helps to explain the filial fidelity 
 which so eminently characterized him. The 
 traits of mind and of heart which endeared 
 our friend to all wlio knew him at home, won 
 for him, in a remarkable degree, the affections 
 of his comrades of the 13th. I have before me 
 
ANTIETAM, 167 
 
 the brief but touching testimony of his chap- 
 lain, in reference to the universal esteem with 
 which our departed friend was regarded. * We 
 have lost a much-loved comrade, whose memo- 
 ry we shall long cherish. I knew Henry well. 
 / have no recoUectioii of an unworthy act in all 
 his soldier life.'' Alluding to the fact that he 
 died on the battle-field, he says, 'It was best 
 for him to die thus, there on the field of his 
 honor and ours ; for it is by just such noble 
 and brave boys as Henry represents, that our 
 army and country are most distinguished.' 
 He adds, that ' his death was perfectly peace- 
 ful, and without anguish of mind or body.' 
 When the fatal ball entered, and he fell to the 
 earth, he said to those about him, ' Tell my 
 friends thai I die in defence of my country,^ 
 He lingered till Wednesday, September 3 ; 
 when, as we trust, * he fell asleep in Jesus,' 
 and went to rejoin loved ones above. He had 
 made preparation for death while in health, 
 and hence was tranquil and serene when he 
 drew near the confines of eternity." 
 
 , Captain Derby saw the sun rise for 
 the last time on the mornino: of the 17th 
 
168 ANTIETAM. 
 
 of September, 1862. He rose as early 
 as half-past two on that morning ; and, 
 while the breakfast was in preparation, 
 he penned his last letter to his precious 
 mother. It was brief; and was, verhaiim^ 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Sept. 17, 1862. 
 
 "My dear Mother, — We marched from 
 Frederick the next morning after I wrote you ; 
 and we are now encamped near Boonsborough, 
 between that and the Potomac. 
 
 " There has been some fighting ; but w& were 
 not engaged. It looks now as though there 
 would be a battle before Jackson can get 
 across the river on his retreat. 
 
 " This is a beautiful country, and we have 
 fared quite comfortably. Weather looks rainy 
 now ; but we have shelter tents with us. 
 
 " We have very bad news from Harper's 
 Ferry, but get no reliable particulars ; yet pros- 
 pects are bright with us for giving the rehs a 
 good whipping at this point. 
 
 " With best love to all, I remain your affea- 
 tionate son, 
 
 " Richard." 
 
ANTIETAM. 169 
 
 Three days after his heroic death, 
 this letter reached the hands of his 
 mother. There were to be no more 
 letters for her from that dear, only son. 
 Several months after, she wrote thus to 
 a friend : " We miss so much his letters 
 that always came so promptly. I can- 
 not become accustomed to their absence ; 
 and am still often restless, as if watching 
 for them." This last letter arrived at 
 its destination on the morning after the 
 dreadful news of his death had reached 
 his mother's home and filled it with sad- 
 ness. Yet one may well believe it was 
 most welcome. 
 
 The battle of Antietam was that in 
 Iwhich Captain Derby lost his life. It is 
 now an historic event; and it may be 
 well to speak of it at some length, be- 
 fore referring farther to the young pa- 
 triot's part in it. The "American An- 
 
170 ANTIETAM. 
 
 nual Cyclopsedia" for 1862 thus de- 
 scribes it : — 
 
 " General Burnside's corps on the left was 
 ordered, early in the day, to carry the bridge 
 across the Antietam at Rohrback's Farm, and 
 to attack the enemy's right. The approaches 
 to the bridge being in the nature of a defile, 
 and being swept by batteries of the enemy, 
 the opposite bank of the Antietam was only 
 reached after a severe struggle. It was after- 
 noon before the heights were in his possession. 
 The enemy were driven back, and a portion 
 of their line was in disorder. By the most 
 desperate efforts, however, the enemy rallied 
 their retreating regiments, strengthened their 
 line with all their available fresh troops, and 
 opened batteries on the hills, from positions 
 which the amphitheatrical character of the 
 ground, it seems, abundantly furnished. Gen- 
 eral Burnside could not maintain his advan- 
 tage ; and was obliged to withdraw from the 
 'extreme position he had gained near Sharps- 
 burg, to one slightly in rear of it. He, how- 
 ever, held his bank of the river completely, 
 and maintained much ground beyond it which 
 he had taken from the enemy. During the 
 
ANTIETAM. 171 
 
 advance on the left, General Rodman was 
 wounded. The Federal artillery is repre- 
 sented to have played an important part 
 during the battle. Notwithstanding substan- 
 tial and decided successes of the day, the 
 Federal forces had suffered so severely 
 during the conflict, — having lost 11,420 
 in killed and wounded, and among them 
 many general and superior officers, — that it 
 was deemed prudent by General McClellan to 
 re-organize, and give rest and refreshment to 
 the troops, before renewing the attack." 
 
 Further than this need not be quoted ; 
 for, long before General McClellan gave 
 the order to rest, the heroic Derby had 
 found the eternal calm. 
 
 But the graphic description by " Carle- 
 ton," * in the " Boston Journal," ought 
 not to be omitted. He says, — 
 
 " A great battle has been fought near this 
 village ; and I sit down to write, so far as I 
 
 * Charles C. Coffin, Esq., author of " My Days and Nights on 
 the Battle-Held." 
 
172 ANTIETAM, 
 
 may be able, an intelligible account of the 
 contest, — the mightiest ever fought on the 
 continent of America. Other correspondents 
 have doubtless anticipated me with their de- 
 scriptions ; but if Waterloo, after the lapse of 
 half a century, is still studied, certainly the 
 field of Sharpsburg or Antietam will bear one 
 day's contemplation, now that I am able to 
 review the field from the enemy's side. . . . 
 The South Mountain is the easterly ridge of 
 the Blue-Ridge chain. The Potomac cuts it 
 at Harper's Ferry. It runs north to the vi- 
 cinity of Gettysburg. Directly west of it, 
 commencing at the Ferry, is Elk Ridge ; which 
 is about ten miles long. The village of Keits- 
 ville lies at the northern extremity of the 
 ridge. It is a wooded elevation, eight hun- 
 dred or one thousand feet high. The valley 
 between the South Mountain and Elk Ridge 
 is called Pleasant Yalley. An unfrequented 
 road runs over Elk Ridge. The Sharpsburg, 
 Hagerstown, and Harper's-Ferry Turnpike runs 
 west of the ridge, between it and the Poto- 
 mac. The country along the turnpike is ex- 
 cellent farming-land, and has been under 
 culture many years. It would be called an 
 open country, — more fields than forests, — 
 
ANTIETAM. 173 
 
 fields, pastures with oak-groves, iar'ja-houses, 
 barns, wheat-stacks, corn-fields, peach and 
 apple orchards. . . . Antietam River, which 
 rises near Gettysburg, Penn., runs nearly 
 south, along the western slope of Elk Ridge. 
 Walking south-east, we find that we are grad- 
 ually crosshig the ridge ; that there is a slope 
 east toward the Antietam, and a gentle slope, 
 with hills, knolls, and ravines, west toward 
 the Potomac ; that the turnpike is on the high 
 ground between the two streams. A short 
 distance through a beautiful oak-grove, and 
 we come to a large ploughed field. The grove 
 extends along the turnpike half a mile. East 
 of the ploughed field is another grove, — the 
 distance between the two groves a half-mile. 
 Continuing our walk, we find the slope more 
 abrupt as we gradually near the lower stone 
 bridge. Tlie eastern slope is bare of trees, 
 but mottled with corn-fields, — the stalks be- 
 ginning to wear the russet hues of au- 
 tumn. There are a few farm-houses with 
 vvhitewaslied out-buildings. Numerous fen- 
 ces, smooth fields, a few apple-orchards, and 
 a burial-ground with white head-stones, stand 
 in pleasant contrast against the green-sward, 
 l^^yoking east, we have the valley of the Antie- 
 
174 ANTIETAM. 
 
 tarn, — this winding stream, sparkling in ths* 
 sunlight, fringed with willows." 
 
 "Carleton" was nine miles off when 
 the battle began, and rode hastily 
 thither. 
 
 " In the first ambalance I met," he contin- 
 ues, *' I descried a silver star, and was sorry 
 to see, as I scrutinized the countenance, that 
 it was my old friend Gen. Richardson, with 
 whom I had my first experience of battle-scenes 
 at Blackburnford. A bullet had pierced his 
 breast. 
 
 " Several farm-houses in the vicinity were 
 already filled with the wounded, and a long 
 line of men with stretchers were bringing 
 other hundreds. As fast as they were brought 
 from the field, straw was littered upon the 
 ground, and the sufferers laid in rows, wait- 
 ing for their turn at the surgeons' hands. 
 Here was Lieut.-Col. D wight of the 2d Mass., 
 Gen. Mansfield, Gen. Hooker, Gen. Sedgwick, 
 Gen. Eicketts. There had been a terrific fire. 
 It had rolled like the breakers on the beach, 
 like angry thunder in the clouds, — the low, 
 continuous growl you sometimes hear, — like 
 
ANTIETAM. 175 
 
 the fall of a great building: not like the 
 voice of many waters ; for that is deep, sol- 
 emn, peaceful, — the symbol of tlie song of the 
 redeemed, which will ascend before the throne 
 of God, when all war shall have ceased, and 
 all its wild uproar shall be hushed. 
 
 " Strange, mysterious Providence ! that 
 through blood, through carnage and deso- 
 lation, we arrive at redemption ! A year's 
 experience, a year's insight, has not reconciled 
 me to such scenes. I can accept only the 
 stern necessity." 
 
 " Carleton " states that Capt. Derby's 
 regiment, the 15th Mass., were in Gor- 
 man's brigade ; as were also the 1st 
 Maine, and the 34th and 82d New- 
 York. He then continues: — 
 
 " Our troops came in front of the road ; 
 when up rose the first rebel line. The fence 
 became a line of flame and smoke. The corn- 
 field beyond, on higher ground, was a sheet of 
 fire. Meagher's line, and Weber's, melted like 
 lead in a crucible : there Ireland bled for her 
 adopted home ; there Delaware poured out 
 
176 ANTIETAM. 
 
 loyal blood ; there Maryland proved her love 
 for the grand old stars and stripes ; there 
 Richardson's veterans fouglit as they had 
 fought before. With a wild rush and cheer, 
 they moved up to the fence, ploughed through 
 and through by the batteries above, cut and 
 gashed by the leaden hail, and poured their 
 volleys into the rebel ranks, — thrusting the 
 muzzles of their guns into the enemy's faces 
 through the fence. Then and there, they 
 proved that they were a match for the enemy 
 m the open field. 
 
 " The first rebel line was almost annihilated ; 
 and the dead, lying beneath the tasselled corn, 
 were almost as numerous as the golden ears 
 upon the stalks. Visiting the spot when the 
 contest was over, I judged, from a little count- 
 ing, that a .thousand of the enemy's dead were 
 in the road and the adjoining corn-field. A 
 shell had thrown seven into one heap, — some 
 on their faces, some on their backs, fallen as 
 a liandful of straws would fall when dropped 
 upon the ground. But not they alone suf- 
 fered. The bloody tide which had surged 
 through all the morning, between the ridges 
 above along the right, had flowed over the 
 hill at this noontide hour. The yellow soil 
 
ANTIETAM. 177 
 
 became crimson. The russet corn-leaves 
 turned to red, as if autumn had put on, in 
 a moment, its richest glory. How costly ! 
 Five thousand — I think I do not exaggerate 
 — wounded and dead lay along that pathway 
 and in the adjoining fields ! The gods of the 
 ancients drank human blood; but no richer 
 libation was ever poured more willingly, 
 freely, or bravely, than this on the heights 
 of Sharpsburg." 
 
 The close of the contest he thus de- 
 scribes : — 
 
 "The day was waning. Through the hours 
 from early morning, the war had been un- 
 ceasing. Four hundred cannons had shaken 
 the earth. Two hundred thousand men had 
 struggled for the mastery. At times the 
 storm had lulled, dying away like the wind 
 at night, then rising again to the fierceness 
 )f a tornado. It was evident, by mid-after- 
 noon, that the contest was likely to be unde- 
 cisive. . . . Both parties have put on new 
 vigor at the sunset hour. The fire kindles 
 along the line. There is almost an unob- 
 structed view. Far upon the right is the 
 
178 ANTIETAM. 
 
 smoke of the thirty cannon, still rising in a 
 white sulphurous cloud. The woods oppo- 
 site, where the rebel batteries have been sta- 
 tioned, smoke like a furnace. A little nearer, 
 SumiiCi-'s artillery is rolling its thunder and 
 hurling its bolts against the limestone ledges ; 
 which answer, that Franklin is fresh. Ayer's 
 battery is pouring a rapid, deadly fire on the 
 corn-field, where the rebel line is lying un/ler 
 cover. Above them, on the highest hillock, 
 a half-mile from Sharpsburg, a heavy rebel 
 battery is in flame. Richardson's artillery, 
 immediately in front, is replying, sending 
 shells upon the hill, and beyond into Sharps- 
 burg, where hay-stacks, houses, and barns are 
 burning, rolling up tall pillars of cloud and 
 flame to heaven. At our left hand, Burnside's 
 heavy guns are thundering, answered by the 
 opposing batteries. All the country is smok- 
 ing, as if the last great day had come, and 
 lightning was leaping from the earth. It is a 
 continuous roll of thunder. The sun goes 
 down reddened in the smoky haze. Ayer's 
 battery is directly in line with the descending 
 orb ; and the sharp, swift flashes seem to issue 
 from its angry face. The musketry has ceased, 
 save a few volleys rolling from beyond the 
 
ANTIETAM, 179 
 
 willows ill the valley, and a little dripping, 
 like rain-drops after a shower, in front and on 
 the right, where the skirmishers are in line. 
 Words utterly fail to convey an idea of the 
 grandeur of the scene. It has passed from 
 sight ; but it will remain in memory one of the 
 grandest pictures of the war. 
 
 " The thunder died away, the flashes became 
 few and fainter, ceased, and all was still upon 
 the bloody field. Thirty thousand, full of life 
 at the dawning, were bleeding at this evening 
 hour. The sky was bright with the lurid 
 flames of the burning buildings; and they 
 who went out with a cup of cold water to 
 the wounded, needed no torch to light them 
 on their errands of mercy. A thousand camp- 
 fires gleamed along the hillsides, as if a great 
 city had lighted its lamps. 
 
 " The ambulances were winding on, in the 
 morning, over the fields. Along all the roads, 
 supply-trains came.^ Troops poured in,— 
 twenty-five thousand men ready for the renew- 
 al of the contest in the morning. Cavalry 
 clattered along all the streets. Additional ar- 
 tillery came up ; and the army, notwithstanding 
 the gory harvest of the day, had full ranks for 
 the ensuing morning. The slightly wounded 
 
 12 
 
180 ANTJETAM, 
 
 were pouring to the village of Keitsville, — • 
 hundreds, with bandaged arms, hands, and 
 feet, seeking a place to lie down, in houses, 
 barns, or under haystacks. It was a mournful 
 sight. Yet there were but few complaints. 
 The good people, kind and Christian, opened 
 their houses, hands, and hearts to the sufferers. 
 It was cheering, — almost the only redeeming 
 feature of the hour. So the day closed ; re- 
 minding one of the sweet lines of Whittier, in 
 the ' Angel of Buena Yista,' — 
 
 * Not wholly lost, Father ! is this evil world of ours : 
 Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh the 
 Eden flowers ! ' 
 
 ..." Such are the main features of this great 
 contest, — the mightiest ever fought on the 
 continent ; in which it is believed that twenty- 
 five to thirty thousand men have fallen. It is 
 a battle-field which will be much visited and 
 studied. Lee's hitentions, his plans, his posi- 
 tions, will be inquired into and criticised in 
 years to come ; and so the battle, as fought by 
 General McClcllan, will be studied by those 
 who admire and those who do not accept him 
 as a great general. 
 
 " It is b it a faint outline I have given of one 
 
ANTIETAM, 181 
 
 of the sujlimest battle-fields the world ever 
 saw ; indecisive, apparently, of present issue ; 
 but, for aught we know, a great turning-point 
 in history ! " 
 
 Captain Derby was spared the anguish 
 he must have felt, had he lived through 
 all the carnage of that dreadful day ; for 
 he was among those first called to lay 
 down their lives for their country. His 
 companion and friend, Lieutenant (now 
 Captain) Gale, thus described his last 
 hours in a letter to the bereaved mother, 
 dated Bolivar, Ya., Sept. 24, 1862 : — 
 
 " My dear Madam, — I trust that you will 
 pardon my delay in giving you the particulars 
 of that sad event, the announcement of wliich 
 must have already reached ycu. Our poor 
 wounded comrades have engrossed so much of 
 our attention, that we have not found time to 
 communicate with the friends and relatives of 
 those gone from us to return no more. Even 
 now, it is painful, in the extreme, to bring up 
 again the picture of that terrible day. 
 
182 ANTIETAM. 
 
 " We left camp in cheerful spirits, though 
 with something like a precaonition that great 
 events were at hand. I chatted pleasantly 
 with Richard, who was almost a brother to me ; 
 and we went forward hand in hand, as it were, 
 as we had often done before. Wiien we ap- 
 proached the enemy, he asked me to attend to 
 the men on the right of the company, while he 
 gave orders to those on the left. In a moment, 
 heavy volleys were poured into our ranks ; and 
 finding myself slightly wounded, I sought the 
 shelter of a tree. While binding my wound, I 
 saw the Lieutenant cheering on his men in the 
 most heroic manner: it was a scene that I 
 never can forget. Two minutes later, he also 
 was laid at the foot of the tree, fatally wounded 
 in the temple. He was quite unconscious, 
 apparently in almost a childlike sleep ; and 
 thus, without suffering, he passed from life to 
 immortality. Oh ! how sadly did his dear 
 friend Major Philbrick, and myself, gaze upon 
 his fair face ! We exchanged significant and 
 sorrowful glances ; and, looking at the battle 
 before us, we found ourselves nearly surround- 
 ed by the enemy. Hastily retreating, we were 
 obliged to leave our dead and wounded ; but, 
 be/ore this, I had secured every thing of value 
 
ANTJETAM. 183 
 
 about our dear brother except his sword and 
 belt : this was so firmly fastened, that I could 
 not secure it. 
 
 " On the following day, we made three at- 
 tempts to get across to those who were left 
 behind ; but the enemy refused to grant this 
 privilege. On Friday, the field was deserted ; 
 and so much time had elapsed since the 
 engagement, that it was almost impossible to 
 recognize the most familiar faces. Such a 
 great change had taken place, that we. were 
 obliged to relinquish our desire to send home 
 the remains for interment ; and they were 
 buried in a small garden-spot, quite near the 
 scene of action. It is known as the Lucca 
 Place, and is about one mile from the village 
 of Sharpsburg. Any one in the neigborhood 
 will point out the location, — the exact spot is 
 marked by a head-board, — and the proprietor 
 has promised that this, together with those 
 that are near it, shall be preserved. 
 
 " Yesterday, Major Philbrick and myself, with 
 the aid of a borrowed key<^his own being lost), 
 unlocked his valise, and placed in it his watch, 
 pistol, gold ring, and other articles of value. 
 To-day, I have directed this to you at Auburn- 
 dale, and shall forward it by Adams' Express ; 
 
184 ANTIETAM. 
 
 and, if I can be of any farther service, do not, 
 I beg of you, fail to allow me the privilege. 
 
 " I had found him such a genial companion, 
 with so much to love and respect, that I could 
 not quite reconcile myself to the thouglit that 
 we were parted for this life ; and yet I almost 
 longed to be with him, if I might leave such a 
 fair name and glorious record. This line is 
 constantly in my mind, and will always asso- 
 ciate itself with his memory : — 
 
 * That life is'long which answers Life's great end.' 
 
 " Deeply sympathizing with you in your great 
 bereavement, 
 
 " I am, with much respect, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 "Walter Gale." 
 
 Other testimonies than the above let- 
 ter came to the mother at various times, 
 showing in what high estimation her son 
 was held. Colonel W. Kaymond Lee 
 wrote thus: — 
 
 " Your son, during the short time of his 
 
ANTIETAM. 
 
 185 
 
 connection with my regiment, endeared him- 
 self very much to our regard and respect. 
 While glad of his promotion on his own 
 account, we regretted our loss. 
 
 "Duty brought me personally in contact 
 with him on the evening of Oct. 20. On Oct. 
 21, 1 again met him on the field. His deport- 
 ment was most creditable to a gentleman of 
 his traditions." 
 
 Major James H. Rice, of the 19th Massa- 
 chusetts Regiment, whom Captain Derby 
 met in the Peninsula campaign, where 
 they were on picket duty together, 
 writes, — 
 
 "My associations with your lamented and 
 noble son were of a most pleasant nature, and 
 not at all times devoid of peril ; and on that 
 account his remembrance is to me a source of 
 pride and pleasure. I will not seek again to 
 open those wounds which you, his mother, 
 must feel at his early death : but will only say, 
 that, as his life had been pure, so his death was 
 glorious ; and he was one of those of whom I 
 can truly say, — 
 
 * He should have died hereafter.' " 
 
186 ANTIETAM. 
 
 His friend and counsellor, J. L. An- 
 drews, Esq., wrote an obituary notice of 
 Captain Derby ; in w^hich occur these 
 words : — 
 
 " Lieutenant Derby combined courage and 
 patriotism with the polish of a gentleman, and 
 the most prepossessing manners and form. 
 He was rising rapidly ia the army ; and his 
 death is a severe loss to his kindred, his many 
 friends, and to the country." 
 
 His former teacher, Eev. Dr. Allen, 
 wrote to the " Northborough Times " as 
 follows : — 
 
 "Among the killed of the great battle of 
 Wednesday, Sept. 17, was Richard Derby, 
 1st Lieutenant of Co. C, of the 15th Regi- 
 ment. As his name in the first reports was 
 misspelled, and the name of the regiment 
 not rightly given, we hoped, and even against 
 hope, that he was yet spared for other service 
 and future usefulness. But our worst fears 
 are confirmed. . . . He was a beautiful, gen- 
 tle, sweet-tempered, yet manly boy ; the idol 
 
ANTIETAM. 187 
 
 of his mother and sister, and a universal favor- 
 ite. He was endeared to us by a residence in 
 our family, in tlie capacity of a pupil, when a 
 lad; from which time our interest in him 
 has never ceased or declined. . . . He was a 
 favorite, as we learn, with the officers and pri- 
 vates of his company and regiment ; and we 
 were pleased to hear from his colonel (now 
 General Devens) so good an account as he 
 gave us of our favorite pupil, — one whom we 
 had loved and cherished almost as one of our 
 own children." 
 
 Chaplain Fuller, in a letter to the be- 
 reaved mother, wrote, — 
 
 " My whole heart sympathizes with you in 
 your affliction. From his childhood up to the 
 hour of his death, I loved your Richard as if 
 one of my own family. He was a noble, pure, 
 and saintly young man ; and his death was as 
 heroic and honorable as his whole life had 
 been worthy. Fitting close to a most excel- 
 lent career ! I saw him in the army ; and 
 there he was loved and respected by all. Little 
 did I think, in pressing his hand in parting at 
 Harrison's Landing, that it was for the last 
 
188 ANTIETAM. 
 
 time. My tears mingle with those of his kin* 
 dred ; for I, too, have lost in him a friend, 
 loved as a younger brother. And yet not lost : 
 for heaven is composed of such as he ; and we 
 must live faithful to duty and to God, that 
 there we may meet him and our other loved 
 friends. My most sympathizing remembrance 
 to your daughter and family. 
 
 " Most truly your friend, 
 
 "A. B. Fuller." 
 
 Only ten months after this letter was 
 penned, the writer was killed at Frede- 
 ricksburg, and went up to join bis friend, 
 where no sound of war is ever beard. 
 
 Rev. N. G. Allen wrote from Somer- 
 ville, Mass., to Mrs. Derby, — 
 
 "It was with deep sadness, and heartfelt 
 condolence for his afflicted family, that I read 
 the record of your son's death. Ever since his 
 departure to the seat of war, we have both ex- 
 perienced much anxious solicitude for his for- 
 tunes amid the perils of battle. Nor did a 
 little of that solicitude arise from a sense of 
 
antieta u. 189 
 
 tlie great loss and void his death would occa- 
 sion to your mother-loving heart, and to his 
 sister and her children. For himself, I was 
 not so anxious ; for I believed him to be a 
 thoughtful young man, — conscientious, moral, 
 and 'xpright, and likewise religious. ... I 
 had great sympathy and respect for his style 
 of mind and character. Meek, unobtrusive, 
 reflecting, and elevated, he was singularly 
 decided, and entirely self-possessed. His com- 
 mendable and ingenuous devotion to his family 
 makes his patriotism of a very high order ; be- 
 cause he could forego, as it were, so readily 
 and so promptly, the charms of domestic bliss 
 and the strong ties of kin for the earnest call 
 which his country made upon her loyal sons. 
 As the memory of his affection and kind acts 
 for his own will never fade from their hearts, 
 so his name will ever after be mentioned with 
 tenderness and respect by his few surviving 
 comrades, and many others who have heard of 
 his rare worth and true bravery. Nor is it too 
 much to say of him what is spoken., by the poet- 
 laureate, of England's greatest md now de- 
 parted general, — 
 
 * Whatever record springs to light, 
 He never shall he shamed* 
 
190 ANTIETAM. 
 
 "And now, my dear madam, let me point 
 you to Him who doeth all things well^ as the 
 only adequate support in the calamities of life. 
 ' Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall 
 sustain thee.' "... 
 
 The following letter, from one of 
 Capt. Derby's dearest friends, should 
 have a place here : — 
 
 "So. Danvers, Mass., Oct. 11, 1862. 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Derby, — I received from 
 Rebecca, this morning, the lock of dear Rich- 
 ard's hair, which you were so kind as to send 
 me. It is a gift which I prize very, very 
 highly ; and for which I beg of you to accept 
 my heartfelt thanks. It will serve, in coming 
 time, to remind me, though I shall not need it 
 for that, of my fortunate acquaintance with 
 one whom I can only think of with love and 
 admiration. Richard came nearer to my ideal 
 of true manhood than any friend I have ; and, 
 in losing him, I feel that I have lost a golden 
 link from the chain which makes life desira- 
 ble, and have gained new incentive for so 
 employing life, that, when my day of de- 
 parture oomes, I shall be able to regain the 
 
ANTIETAM. 191 
 
 golden link, and enjoy more truly his noble 
 worth. 
 
 '' We need not mourn that Richard is gone, 
 so much as that we, too, are not prepared to 
 tread in his steps. 
 
 " For him we cannot mourn ; but for our- 
 selves, for our country, and for humanity's 
 sake, we cannot easily dry our tears. Yet 
 we know, that we, that our country and hu- 
 manity, are in the hands of a just and wise 
 God, who does nothing amiss. And ought we 
 not to submit with cheerfulness to his ruling ? 
 It is want of faith in the eternal right, and in 
 our future re-union, which makes our grief so 
 hard to bear. The more we trust, the more 
 we are prepared to suffer and to do. Let us 
 then, bearing in mind Richard's excellence, 
 cherish and emulate his virtues ! Again 
 thanking you for your kind remembrance 
 of me, I subscribe myself 
 
 " Yours very respectfully, 
 
 " D. Webster King." 
 
 One more letter must be mentioned. 
 It is from Capt. Derby's ear'iiest friend : 
 they were like David and Jonathan, 
 
192 ANTIETAM. 
 
 " Troy, N. Y., Sept. 28, 1862. 
 ** Mvs. M. A. Derby, and others most nearly related to Richard. 
 
 "Afflicted Friends, — It was with a sor- 
 row that must return at many a future hou? 
 as times and places shall remind me of it, that 
 I learned, from a home-letter of Friday last, 
 of the undoubted death in battle of your 
 dear son, and my long-cherished and always 
 more and more esteemed friend Richard. . . . 
 For seventeen long years, I knew and loved 
 him. I remember him (and this may interest 
 the children, his thoughtfully loved nephew 
 and nieces) when but eleven years old, a 
 daily morning visitor at father's door on his 
 little errand of domestic duty, then my desk- 
 fellow at school, often my bedfellow and 
 table-companion, and everywhere my cher- 
 ished playmate. How his little self, in old 
 times, fancied my strength to be great ! while 
 [ felt as a sort of champion for him. He once 
 threw his arms around my neck, in the little 
 cottage wliich I shall henceforth, more than 
 ever, behold with recollections of him oppres- 
 sively serious, and told me I seemed to him 
 more like a father than a brother. I did labor 
 most successfully in establishing him in all 
 liealthful habits ; and though the best are but 
 
ANTJETAM. 193 
 
 bungling apprentices in handling Christ's holy 
 religion, yet I hope, that, amid much error of 
 method in trying to share religious blessings 
 with him, some good influences may have been 
 felt by him from me. 
 
 " What now is the magnitude of the crime 
 of rebellion, which causes the sacrifice of such 
 lives ! and what the appalling crime against 
 human souls, out of which such rebellion 
 grew ! We must regard God, not as an un- 
 concerned but a most interested spectator of 
 the present war ; and not as a spectator only, 
 but an almighty and all-rigliteous actor, whoso 
 terrible decisions we must willingly submit 
 ourselves as instruments to execute. With 
 the intelligent understanding of the cause 
 which Richard had, he could not but have 
 laid down his precious life as a pious sacri- 
 fice; and as we contemplate this, and his 
 simple sincerity and single-mindedness, his 
 tender care of the heart-life of the children, 
 and that touching request of his for a prayer- 
 book for use with dying prisoners, let us think 
 of his unfettered spirit breaking through the 
 murky war-cloud, and welcomed by a shining 
 host with notes not heard by mortal ear : and, 
 thinking of all this, may not the livelier heart- 
 
194 ANTIETAM, 
 
 String which his death broke be replaced by 
 one whose mellower note of comforted sor- 
 row shall never be silent to the ear of hope 
 and faith in a Saviour's divine compassiop 
 and great salvation? 
 
 " Respectfully and sincerely yours, 
 
 * " S. Edward Warren." 
 
 It will be remembered that the valise 
 of the young patriot was sent home. I^ 
 it was found a letter, so preserved as to 
 show it was highly prized, from one of 
 those Salem cousins with whom Capt. 
 Derby spent many happy days in boy- 
 hood. It was dated Nov. 9, 1861 ; and 
 the following extracts will be read with 
 interest, both on account of the friendly 
 regard manifested for the young patriot, 
 and for the mention of one, at least, who 
 has gained historic renown and a 'hero's 
 grave. The letter commences, — 
 
 "My dear Richard, — You may feel very 
 
AXTIETAM. 195 
 
 sure, that, with anxious hearts and eager eyes, 
 we searched all the newspaper accounts for 
 tidings of our little soldier boy ; and rejoiced 
 to find the familiar /a??2i/y name was not to be 
 seen among the mournful record of ' dead, 
 wounded, missing, or prisoner.' We felt the 
 rank to which you had attained would have 
 caused distinct mention to have been made of 
 you, if any thing disastrous had happened ; and 
 so we tried hard to believe all was well with 
 you: yet we did rejoice to receive confirma- 
 tion of your safety, in a letter from your uncle 
 George,* who very kindly wrote me of your 
 narrow escape from drowning, and your rescue 
 by Col. Devens. . . . We rejoice to find you 
 suffered no injury more severe than exhaus- 
 tion. How little we thought (as you made 
 your first acquaintance with sea-bathing under 
 our auspices) that the feeble little boy whom 
 we encouraged in his first experiments of 
 swimming would come so near losing his 
 life by the treacherous element, in gallant 
 defence of his country ! Yesterday, my 
 mother had the honor and pleasure of re- 
 ceiving a letter from Gen. Lander (written 
 
 * Surgeon Derby, of 23d Massachusetts Regiment. 
 13 
 
196 ANTJETAM. 
 
 sitting up in bed), to inform us ' that Lieut. 
 Derby is safe. I telegraphed,' he writes, ' to 
 know if he was dead, wounded, or missing; 
 and enclose the general's answer, which I am 
 proud and happy to copy for you : — 
 
 "FromPoOLESViLLE, to Brig.-Gen. Lander. 
 
 " Lieut. Derby is alive, and adjutant of the 
 regiment, vice Hicks, promoted. — Signed, C. 
 P. Stone, B. G." 
 
 " ' Had you been informed of your promo- 
 tion when you wrote me ? or was it your mod- 
 esty alone prevented your telling us the wel- 
 come news ? We sincerely congratulate you 
 upon this reward of your valor and patriot- 
 ism; but do not let it incite you to run 
 into any unnecessary dangers in your mili- 
 tary ardor. I knew you must be gratified to 
 learn you were an object of interest to those 
 who take such high position in this fearful 
 struggle.' . . . We have been quite busy knit- 
 ting army socks. I should hope some of them 
 would reacli you ; but the pattern was so pre- 
 posterously large, that I fear .they would prove 
 a terrible clog, and absorb a vast quantity of 
 water, supposing you should again be doomed 
 to another swimming match. I can only reit- 
 
ANTIETAM. 197 
 
 erate our warmest wishes for your health aud 
 safety, and beg you not to incur any unneces- 
 sary dangers." 
 
 Capt. Derby was a member of the 
 Masonic order, having joined Eevere 
 Lodge in Boston. By his " brethren of 
 the mystic tie" he is mourned as one 
 who recommended the principles of Ma- 
 sonry by a life conformed to the com- 
 pass and the square. 
 
 Thus it may be seen, that the young 
 patriot was the object of loving interest 
 to many warm and noble hearts, from 
 the dawn of his life at Medfield to its 
 sanguinary olose at Antietam. 
 
;?^^^e.^^;^^' 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 ' Tliou bad'st this soldier son of thine 
 
 Go forth iu armor bright : 
 
 He fell, as Israel's beauty fell, 
 
 Upon the mountain lieight. 
 
 Give htm a grave among the hills 
 
 That knew his boyhood's tread ; 
 And in those green- roofed aisles repeat 
 
 The service for the dead." 
 
 Mary "Webb. 
 
 Y dint of great perseverance 
 and untiring effort, the re- 
 mains of Captain Derby 
 were recovered, through the 
 efficient services of his friend 
 and cousin, George S. Derby, 
 Esq., of Boston; and although 
 gn their arrival East no one was able to 
 
 198 
 
DUST TO DUST. 199 
 
 behold thenij yet it was a source of great 
 satisfaction to his friends and family, 
 that they could be laid to rest beside 
 those of his father in the family burial- 
 place. 
 
 Services were first held at his mother's 
 residence in Auburndale, Mass., — a rural 
 village in the town of Newton, some ten 
 miles from Boston, in Middlesex County, 
 and on the line of the Worcester Railroad. 
 
 These services were designed to be 
 comparatively private ; but so great was 
 the interest of the neighbors in the dear 
 young man when living, and so interested 
 were all patriotic hearts in regard to the 
 fact that he died for his country, that 
 there was a large gathering of sympa- 
 thizing friends. Eloquent and appropri- 
 ate remarks were made by Eev. Wash- 
 ington Gilbert, the Unitarian clergyman 
 of West Newton 5 and a fervent, heart* 
 
200 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 breathed prayer was offered by the Rev. 
 E. W. Clark, formerly the Congregational 
 clergyman of Auburndalej and afterward 
 chaplain in the 47th Massachusetts Regi- 
 ment. The services closed with the sing- 
 ing of a hymn, accompanied by music 
 from the piano, which Captain Derby had 
 often loved to hear. The funeral proces- 
 sion was then formed ; and loving, mourn- 
 ing friends followed the dear remains to 
 the quiet spot in Medfield which he had 
 himself caused to be adorned as the fami- 
 ly resting-place. 
 
 The beautiful church where his parents 
 were long accustomed to worship, and 
 w^hose aisles his own infant feet had trod, 
 was decorated to receive him. Like a 
 crowned conqueror, he passed within 
 those open doors ; and starry flags and 
 beautiful flowers told that one came 
 whom the free people of a struggling 
 
DUST TO DUST. 201 
 
 nation delighted to honor. But the 
 Angel of Death passed in at his side ; and 
 so there were tears instead of plaudits, 
 and subdued voices of sympathy and sor- 
 row rather than the huzzas of victory 
 and the shouts of rejoicing. 
 
 Old friends threw open the doors of 
 their hospitable mansions for the recep- 
 tion of those who came to bury the de- 
 parted hero ; and, ere the funeral cortege 
 entered the village, it was met by a pro- 
 cession of those who knew the sainted 
 soldier in " days agone," and were desir- 
 ous to pay every tribute of respect to his 
 precious memory. 
 
 A band of music accompanied the pro- 
 cession ; and the thrilling tones of martial 
 instruments, sounding out a funeral dirge 
 for a warrior slain, went forth sweetly 
 and sadly on the autumnal air. Some 
 in th^ procession bore garlands and 
 
202 DUST TO DUST, 
 
 wreaths of appropriate flowers to deck 
 the bier of the early dead, as if their 
 hearts had responded to the words of 
 Mrs. HemanSj — 
 
 " Bring flowers, pale flowers, o'er the bier to shed, — 
 A crown for the brow of the early dead ! 
 For this through its leaves hath the white rose burst ; 
 For this In the woods was the violet nursed. 
 Though they smile in vain for what once was ours, 
 They are Love's last gift : bring ye flowers, pale flow- 
 ers." 
 
 They proceeded to the church: and 
 there the services were conducted by 
 Captain Derby's former teacher, Kev. Dr. 
 Joseph Allen ; Kev. C. W. Sewall, of Med- 
 field ; and Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, chaplain 
 of the 16th Regiment, — then at home 
 on a furlough because of sickness. Every 
 word of prayer and address and hymn 
 was appropriate, and grateful to the 
 hearts of the mourning household band ; 
 
DUST TO DUST. 203 
 
 but the bereaved mother has often re- 
 gretted that no " reporter " was present 
 to catch the words as they fell from the 
 lips of the several speakers. As she 
 remarked, in the unreserve of friendly 
 correspondence, "Every word of Arthur's 
 was like inspiration, and ought to have 
 been written in letters of gold." Chap- 
 lain Fuller's own heart, we know, was on 
 fire for liberty and the right; and his 
 devotion to his country led him fully to 
 appreciate and honor the character of 
 the brave young hero who was lying in 
 the death-slumber before him. He had, 
 as has been shown, met with the young 
 patriot, not long before, amid the scenes 
 of strife ; and, in his own eloquent man- 
 ner, he referred to that meeting, described 
 the delicate-looking young man moving 
 gently about among the sick and wound- 
 ed, himself so feeble as to need support, 
 
204 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 yet always with a kind word, or perhaps 
 even more, — with some delicacy designed 
 for himself, sharing it with a less-favored 
 comrade ; and left the impression on all 
 hearts that the example of the noble 
 dead was enough to stimulate the com- 
 panions of his boyish days to patriotic 
 exertions, and to make every man anx- 
 ious to " do something for his country." 
 
 During the interesting services, the fol- 
 lowing hymn was sung. It is from the 
 pen of William B. Fowle, a well-known 
 teacher and author, whose home is now 
 in Medfield. 
 
 We lay this offering on thine altar, 
 Grod of Freedom, God of Right : 
 This young heart was not born to falter 
 ' In Humanity's great fight. 
 
 We may not sorrow for him stricken ; 
 
 Liberty's great price is life ; 
 And seeds like this shall, dying, quicken 
 
 Man y a hero for the strife. 
 
DUST TO DUST, 205 
 
 Our solemn sacrifice is wending 
 
 Like sweet perfume to the sky. 
 Patriot spirits, now ascending, 
 
 Bid us dare, like him, to die, — 
 
 Die, to seal a life of glory ; , 
 
 Die, to gain a holy fame ; 
 Die, to crush foul Treason's fury ; 
 
 Die, when still to live were shame. 
 
 Long life consists not in the number 
 
 Of our years of pilgrimage : 
 Length of days may life encumber ; 
 
 " Youth unspotted is old age." 
 
 When the services beneath the conse- 
 crated roof were concluded^ they passed 
 out into God's great temple, whose '' arch 
 is the unmeasured sky;" and slowly, 
 with reversed arms and mufHed drum, 
 they bore him to the grave. There a 
 touching scene occurred, which brought 
 tears to many sunburnt faces : and eyes 
 all unused to weep were speedily dimmed, 
 
206 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 as a fair young girl, supported by her 
 brother, stepped forth to the st^r-span- 
 gled coffin of the heroic dead, with a 
 basket of fragrant flowers in her hand ; 
 which she took quietly, one by one, 
 kissed them, and then dropped them 
 gently on the coffin, — aflection's last 
 offering to one who loved flowers, and 
 ever looked on them as — 
 
 " Emblems of our own great resurrection, 
 Emblems of the bright and better land." 
 
 The usual volley was not fired at the 
 grave ; as the bereaved friends felt that it 
 would too vividly recall the battle-scenes 
 which had deprived them of one so dear. 
 
 The solemn funeral services were at 
 an end ; and the noble form was left in 
 that quiet spot, while the mourners 
 turned tearfully away. '■ 
 
 " He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle : 
 No sound can awake him to glory again." 
 
DUST TO DUST. 207 
 
 Oh, how many in our land have 
 learned, as they never learned before, 
 the force of Mrs. Heman's description ! — 
 
 " By the drum's dull, muffled sound ; 
 By the arms that sweep the ground ; 
 By the volleying musket's tone, — 
 Speak ye of a soldier gone 
 In his manhood's pride.'* 
 
 This brave soldier's loved ones turned 
 away from that precious grave, and 
 passed on to a home rendered desolate 
 by the hand of war. 
 
 And yet they were comforted. They 
 had laid their loved one down, as one 
 who was — to use the language of the 
 church he loved — " in the testimony of 
 a good conscience ; in the confidence of a 
 certain faith ; in the comfort of a reasona- 
 ble, religious, and holy hope; in favor 
 with God ; and in perfect charity with all 
 the world."* 
 
 * " Book of Common Prayer,"— Office for the Visita'fion of the Sick. 
 
208 DUST TO DUST, 
 
 They did not doubt, for one moment, 
 the comforting doctrine of immortality. 
 
 How the stricken mother felt in that 
 sad hour may be learned from her own 
 words : — 
 
 " We committed all that was mortal of our 
 dear one to the earth by the side of his father ; 
 and that spot, ' the grave of so many hopes, 
 around which so many dear memories gather, 
 shall also be the birthplace of affections and 
 desires infinitely more precious.' The curtain 
 has fallen, and all is dark. And yet not so ; 
 for, although I cannot now penetrate the 
 gloom, I know that there is light beyond, and 
 it will re-appear." 
 
 There was one in that sorrowmg band, 
 the cherished friend of the bereaved 
 mother and sister, who would have 
 claimed a dearer title had the hero lived 
 to return from the war. She it was who 
 made the last offering; of flowers at his 
 burial. To her, Capt. Derby had been 
 
DUST TO LUST. 209 
 
 attached from boyhood; and, as his 
 mother states, ^Hhey were every way 
 worthy of each other. She now mourns 
 his early departure, and feels that she 
 gave to her country's need a most pre- 
 cious sacrifice." At the request of Capt. 
 Derby's mother, the following lines were 
 penned for her by the writer of this me- 
 morial : — 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S BETROTHED. 
 
 Stricken, bereaved, forlorn, — a widow sad 
 
 In all but name, — 
 How dark the path the lone betrothed must tread I 
 
 The scroll of Fame 
 Bearing meanwhile the name most dear to her, 
 
 As one who fell 
 In Freedom's strife, a holy conqueror, 
 
 Who hath fought well ! 
 
 One light alone her pathway now can gild, 
 
 That from above ; 
 Where the dear voice, on earth forever stilled, 
 
 Chanteth, in love, 
 
210 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 High praises by the throne of the Eternal, 
 
 That ne'er shall end. 
 Oh! in the heavenly season soft and vernal, 
 
 Their songs shall blend 1 
 
 Those parted lovers yet again shall meet. 
 
 When o'er the wave 
 She passes to that shore with willing feet. 
 
 And finds the grave 
 The gate of joy her spirit never knew 
 
 On this side heaven ; 
 While a blest union with the brave and true 
 
 Henceforth is given. 
 
 O loving Saviour ! once in human form, 
 
 Sustain thy child, — 
 The stricken one, who lonely braves the storm, 
 
 Though dark and wild ; 
 Help her upon thy mighty arm to lean. 
 
 Till she shall meet 
 Him, from whom death her sweet love cannot wean, 
 
 At thy dear feet ! 
 
 A friend, who had known Capt. Derby 
 from his youth,"^ wrote thus in the 
 « Waltham Sentinel : " — 
 
 * J. L. Andrews, Esq. 
 
DUST TO DUST. 211 
 
 " The past week has brouglit home the body 
 of another patriot soldier, — Richard Derby, of 
 Auburndale. He was instantly killed at the 
 battle of Antietam, while, as lieutenant-com- 
 manding, he was gallantly leading on his com- 
 pany in the conflict. ... His body now rests 
 quietly by the side of his fatlier in that pleas- 
 ant country churchyard. His mother, a 
 widow, weeps with thousands of other widows 
 mid mothers ; so many ' Rachels weeping for 
 their children, and will not be comforted, be- 
 cause they are not.' He was a young man of 
 uncommon promise, dearly beloved by all who 
 knew him, quiet and unobtrusive. . . . Thus 
 another sacrifice — pure, acceptable, we trust 
 — has been laid on the altar of Liberty. May it 
 help to bring an honorable peace to our be- 
 loved country! — a peace founded on truth, 
 right, and justice ; the only peace worth fight- 
 ing for, and which will redound to the lasting 
 good of the whole people." 
 
 The mourners were not without sym- 
 jpathy. From far and near came letters 
 of condolence. One who was a dear 
 
 14 
 
212 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 friend to the departed, while in the far 
 "West, wrote; in November following, — 
 
 " I should have written you long ago ; but 
 delayed, not wishing to intrude even my sym- 
 pathies upon the bitter grief and mourning 
 which you have been called upon to suffer. 
 Poor Ricliard! I cannot realize that I shall 
 never see him^ my dear friend, again on earth. 
 I cannot think of him except as I last saw 
 him, so full of life and health ; so anxious that 
 J, his Western friend, should enjoy myself 
 when with him ; so beloved by every one, — an 
 embodiment of all that was good and nohle 
 and manly. I loved him as I would a brother ; 
 and the death of any brother of mine would 
 not cause me more bitter grief. Alas for us 
 all, that God, in his inscrutable providence, 
 should see fit to take such an one from us ! 
 but, my dear friend, we know this, that ' he 
 doeth all things well.' We must bow before such 
 bitter strokes, with the prayer, ' Thy will, not 
 mine, be done.' And then the parting is not 
 long. We all shall soon be crossing the river. 
 No more movirning then, — no partings; but 
 an everlasting enjoyment of the society of those 
 
DUST TO DUST. 213 
 
 we love, if we live and die loving the Father, 
 as I believe our dear Richard did." 
 
 The patriotic mother of the young 
 hero, herself, wrote, after the battle of 
 Gettysburg, — which occurred nearly a 
 year after her son's death, — words which 
 prove her to have been worthy to be the 
 mother of such a son. These are some 
 of them : — 
 
 "Our Massachusetts boys were not mere 
 machines, coarse and brutal stuff, ' food for 
 powder ; ' but the best blood, the brightest 
 hopes, the noblest, fairest young men, the 
 flower and pride of our best homes. New 
 England sent her best when the call, ' To arms ! ' 
 sounded among her hills. Our brave ones 
 have indeed ' covered themselves with honor.' 
 Heavy losses come with our victories ; and we 
 could scarcely bear to rejoice, did we not 
 know that those who have fallen now, and 
 earlier in the struggle, would ardently join us, 
 could they speak. We have poured out, at 
 Gettysburg, another costly libation of blood, 
 drawn from the veins of the youth and manhood 
 
214 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 of our land : but tliev felt tliat their country 
 called ; and they have laid down their lives in 
 the holy cause, and ascended on high to join the 
 immortal Washington and his compatriots. As 
 we, bereaved mothers and sisters and friends, 
 sit weeping at home, counting among the killed 
 our dear sons and brothers^ what an unuttera- 
 ble pang shoots through the heart ! Nature 
 must, for the hour, have her due in sighs and 
 tears and choking agony. But soon the 
 thought comes, that they fell for their 
 country, and her great cause ; and that their 
 sacrifices will bring joy and peace and freedom 
 to generations yet unborn. Therefore ive 
 must be comforted ; for our dear Richard still 
 lives, and is glorified. His life was not wasted 
 in the great struggle for his country and its 
 institutions. He and they have paid a costly 
 price for a magnificent good. They liave won 
 the meed of eternal honor and remembrance. 
 We shall never be obhged to write of our dear 
 ones, craven or coivard or traitor ; for they 
 have sealed their testimony with their blood : 
 and we can forever unite, and sing, ' Honor to 
 the brave ! Blessings on the loyal ! Praise 
 from heaven and earth to the noble soldier 
 who was not afraid to dio, so his country 
 should live ! ' '' 
 
DUST TO DUST. 215 
 
 In fUe beautiful cemetery of the town 
 of Medfield, not far from the monument 
 of the Rev. Dr. Prentiss^ the venerable 
 and excellent pastor of a church in that 
 place for many years, is reared the ele- 
 gant marble shaft which commemorates 
 the heroic Derby. It stands upon a 
 granite pedestal; and upon its summit is 
 an urn surmounted by emblematic flow- 
 ers. Upon the front is inscribed, — 
 
 CAPT. RICHARD C. DERBY, 
 
 Fifteenth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, 
 
 Fell at Antietam, Sept. 17, 1862,. 
 
 Aged 28 years. 
 
 " That life is long which answers Life's great end." 
 
 On one side of the monument are in- 
 scribed the names of Captain Derby's fa- 
 ther and of an infant brother ; and, on the 
 other, the sweet assurance of the poet, — 
 
 " There is no death : what seems so is transition." 
 
 Around the base of the monument 
 
216 DUST TO DUST. 
 
 grows ivy, from the very plant which 
 Captain Derby was wont to tend ; and 
 over his grave is festooned myrtle from 
 his garden-plat at Auburndale. A noble 
 pine and other trees adorn the spot; and 
 beautiful flowers grow in an urn, pre- 
 pared for the purpose, within the enclo- 
 sure. Thus the spot where the young 
 patriot rests is rendered, as far as possi- 
 ble, so tasteful in appearance, as to be in 
 keeping with his singularly pure and 
 symmetrical character. 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 POETICAL TRIBUTES. 
 
 " brave poets I keep back nothing; 
 Nor mix falsehood with the whole 1 
 Look up Godward ! speak the truth in 
 
 Worthy song from earnest soul I 
 Hold in high poetic duty 
 Truest Truth the fairest Beauty ! " 
 
 Mrs. Browning 
 
 'HORTLY after the funeral of 
 her darUng son, the sorely 
 stricken mother, with a heart 
 moved by Christian faith and 
 mishaken patriotism, caused 
 a small pamphlet to be print- 
 ed, entitled " Words of Sympa- 
 thy for Mothers who weep for Sons slain 
 in Battle." This consoHng memento of 
 her beloved son the sympathizing moth- 
 
 217 
 
218 POETICAL TRIBUTES. 
 
 er scattered far and wide among the be- 
 reaved mothers, now, alas ! so numerous 
 in our land. The first poem in it was, 
 appropriately enough, a tribute to the 
 memory of her son, from the pen of Miss 
 Caroline Derby, of Salem, and was pub- 
 lished at first in the columns of the " Sa- 
 lem Gazette." 
 
 The land is rich in beauty : the gayly smiling sod, 
 
 Like the King to Royal Esther, holds out her golden rod ; 
 
 While in her purple robes of state, with dew-drops glit- 
 tering sheen. 
 
 The trembling aster sways and bends, as bowed the sup- 
 pHant queen : 
 
 On the dark hill, the evergreen shoots up Its church-like 
 spire. 
 
 And the maple sheds its ruddy leaves like flakes of living 
 fire : 
 
 Autumn's rich beauty waits us here, — but we turn away 
 unmoved ; 
 
 For our thoughts are round a soldier's bier, with the 
 noble boy we loved ! 
 
 It seems but yesterday the boy sprang fondly to ah*^ 
 
 arms, 
 All bright with childhood's radiant joy, all fair with chlV* 
 
 hood's charms : 
 
POETICAL TRIBUTES. 219 
 
 It seems but j'esterday his hand was closely clasped in 
 
 ours ; 
 And his young feet, beside our own, were wandering 
 
 'midst the flowers. 
 Still, Nature smiles in quiet grace, as in that earlier 
 
 day; 
 " Woodbine and violets keep their place : but lie has passed 
 
 away ! 
 Still bright in beauty smile the scenes through which his 
 
 boyhood roved ; 
 But Death has plucked the fairest flower, — the noble boy 
 
 we loved ! 
 
 For early manhood came ; and War's stern clarion sum- 
 moned all : 
 
 Son of a time- proved ancestry, he answered to the call. 
 
 Those careless feet have fearless stood where fell the 
 iron hail ; 
 
 That baby hand has waved command where Valor's self 
 might quail ; 
 
 Those truthful eyes grew dim in death on Freedom's 
 gory sod ; 
 
 That loyal heart has kept its faith to country and to 
 God; 
 
 That faith, by patriot sires bequeathed, he kept all un- 
 disproved, — 
 
 And we may weep^ but never hlush, for the noble boy we 
 loved ! 
 
 When through this baptism of blood our land regenerate 
 
 stands ; 
 And Peace and Freedom meet once more, with closely 
 
 clasping hands ; 
 
220 POETICAL TRIBUTES 
 
 While, to the joy bells' loud acclaim, the rocking turrets 
 reel, 
 
 And Peace, from out the cannon's lips, shall speak in 
 thunderous peal ; 
 
 When, with glad shouts of " Victory ! " our joyful legions 
 come, — 
 
 We shall but see a drooping flag, and hear a muffied 
 drum : 
 
 We would not mar the general joy, nor be our tears re- 
 proved. 
 
 Who count, amid the costs of War, the noble boy we 
 loved ! 
 
 The following elegiac lines were writ- 
 ten by one of America's most honored 
 female writers, at the request of Captain 
 Derby's friends, and forwarded to the be- 
 reaved mother, with expressions of heart- 
 felt sympathy from one whose "Faded 
 Hope " will ever be read with tearful in- 
 terest by every widowed mother who 
 has parted from an only son : — 
 
 *»THE ONLY SON OF HIS MOTHER, ANl. ' 
 SHE A WIDOW." 
 
 BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 O widow with the only son ! 
 Say, is it well with him ? 
 
POETICAL TRIBUTES. 221 
 
 As the bright days of boyhood run, 
 
 He sports, he leaps, the stream he dares, 
 
 For no fatigue or danger cares, 
 
 Health sparkling in his eye, 
 And vigor quickening every limb, 
 Yet gladly to the school resorts. 
 And reverent treads the holy courts ; 
 And the mother answered joyously, 
 
 " Yes : it is well with him." 
 
 O widow with the only son ! 
 
 Say, is it well with him ? 
 There's a wild storm-cloud in the sky, — 
 It darkeneth our planet's rim, — 
 
 A cry of war from South to North. 
 The flag unfurls, the banners fly, 
 And valiantly he marches forth ! 
 
 I hear the mother sigh ; 
 Yet in her heart was sown of old 
 A patriot ardor, not grown cold : 
 Its zeal o'ercame her fears ; 
 And so she answered, through her tears, 
 
 " Yes : it is well with him." 
 
 O mother with the only son ! 
 
 Say, is it well with him ? 
 There is a thundering battle-cry. 
 And thousands lay them down to die . 
 There is a sound of funeral wail, 
 A manly form all cold and pale ! — 
 
 Mother, thy light is dim ! 
 But He who once at Calvary bled, 
 
222 POETICAL TRIBUTES. 
 
 With pierced side, and drooping head, 
 Saveth the soul that clings to Him : 
 
 He, whose strong arm hath conquered Death, 
 
 In his unbounded mercy saith, 
 " Yes : it is well with him." 
 
 The author of that popular song, " Do 
 they miss me at Home ? " with many 
 other rhythmical expressions of true and 
 noble sentiment, thus responded to a 
 request for a tribute to the young pa- 
 triot's memory : — 
 
 CAPT. RICHARD C. DERBY. 
 
 BY MRS. CAROLINE A. MASON. 
 
 So young to die ! but there are lives whose sun 
 Goes down in glory ere the day is done ; 
 And such was his. O rare and royal soul ! 
 In Life's young morning reaching Life's great goal, 
 And laying down his armor, with the prize 
 Waiting the gaze of his expiring eyes ! 
 Say no dark requiem o'er his early grave ; 
 y Weep human tears ! ye must ! the life he gave 
 For hearth and home, and native land, was dear, 
 And Love will have its way above his bier, — 
 But let no murmur mingle with your grief: 
 His life, so brave, so beautiful, so brief, 
 Has borne its blossoms, — lay it calm away : 
 Its fruit shall ripen in eternal day ! 
 
POETICAL TRIBUTES. 223 
 
 Oil ! If tliere be one grave above the rest 
 Revered and honored, beautified and blest, 
 'TIs where a Christian Patriot makes his rest ! 
 There shall the bright sun shed its earliest gleams, 
 There linger longest in his parting beams : 
 There troops of happy birds, on sportive wing, 
 " Trill their sweet descants " in the early spring ; 
 There wintry snows fall purest : Summer there 
 Wave her first blossoms and her balmiest air ; 
 And Autumn bring its wealth of golden bloom 
 And crimson leaves to decorate the tomb ; 
 And grateful, loving hearts, o'erplant the spot 
 With shining laurel and forget-me-not : 
 There Love resort, to smile as well as weep ; 
 Saying, " 'Tis well 1 his memory we will keep ; 
 'Tis well ! ' He giveth His beloved sleep ! ' " 
 
 THE FRUITS OF WAR. 
 
 BY MABELLE. 
 
 " The greatest glory of these times, even of this war, 
 lies not in the triumph of battle-fields; not in the splen- 
 did successes of our military skill ; not even the saving of 
 our Nation's life : but it lies in the noble qualiti(;s of 
 manhood that the time has called forth ; in the capacity 
 for endurance and uncomplaining suffering that is every- 
 where displayed." — Extract from a letter by Mrs. M. A. 
 Derby, Auburndale, Mass. 
 
 How true, poor mother, are those words 
 Wrung from thine anguished soul, 
 
224 POETICAL TRIBUTES. 
 
 While watching him, thy sainted child, 
 
 Whose feet have reached the goal ! 
 With joy we follow him, and scan 
 The noblest work of God in man ! 
 
 Then mark how perfect was his life ; 
 
 And what a glorious crown 
 Our nation yet will twine for him 
 
 Whose sun, ere noon, went down ! 
 But, when it faded from thy sight, 
 It left for thee no starless night. 
 
 And, when his Master called him home. 
 He went, with full, ripe sheaves ; 
 
 While those who live may yet be found 
 With nought but withered leaves. 
 
 The Reaper on that battle-field 
 
 Knew which the perfect fruit would yield. 
 
 And over him death had no power ; 
 
 His work is not yet done ; 
 Nor should we feel a life was lost. 
 
 That had such triumphs won ! 
 He left a record few could claim, 
 While green the bays around his name. 
 
 And in the higher, holier life, 
 
 W^hich all around we see. 
 We, trembling, hope to bear a part. 
 
 Though humble it may be. 
 While waiting here the glorious dawn 
 That ushers in sweet Freedom's morn. 
 
POETICAL TRIBUTES. 225 
 
 For not alone upon the field 
 
 Are all the heroes seen : 
 The prayers from loving hearts at home 
 
 Have kept those laurels green ; 
 And strength they needed to endure 
 Has come from Love's home-altar pure. 
 
 If this the fruit of these dark days, 
 
 What must God's harvest be, 
 And, with these precious garnered sheaves, 
 
 The one he took from thee ? 
 In this great work, brave, suffering heart. 
 Thy life has borne a glorious pai't. 
 
 CAPT. RICHARD C. DERBY. 
 
 BY MRS. P. A. HANAFORD. 
 
 Fallen to rise ! — a hero in the fight ; 
 
 Whose life was given for his country's cause 1 
 Strong in the contest ; battling for the Right ; 
 
 Knowing, in Duty's path, no coward's pause I 
 
 Ay ! fallen on Antietam's gory field. 
 
 Yet risen to the everlasting heights. 
 Thy patriotism by thy blood was sealed : 
 
 No weary days for thee, no gloomy nights. 
 
 No toilsome marches to the scene of strife ; 
 
 No sore privations in the tented field: 
 Sweet rest have they who rise to endless life, 
 
 And comforts which no palace home could yield. 
 
226 POETICAL TRIBUTE S. 
 
 Loved friends must mourn him as they watch in vain 
 To hear his footsteps sound along the street ; 
 
 But they shall greet their hero-friend again, 
 To part no more, where all God's children meet 
 
 Bind, then, around his brow the fadeless bays, — 
 " His fame belongeth to his country " now, — 
 
 And distant years shall echo back the praise 
 Which history shall in truth's clear tones avow. 
 
 God help his widowed mother in this hour, 
 
 When heavy seems the stroke his l>and hath given ! 
 
 God bless his lone betrothed one ! — give her power 
 To look with faith for union sweet in heaven 1 
 
 God's smile be on the sister, who no more 
 
 Her childhood's playmate welcomes with delight ! 
 
 Bid her look upward to that peaceful shore 
 
 Where every heart is glad, and each path bright ! 
 
 God comfort all the sorrowing ones who sigh 
 Because this noble soul hath passed away ! 
 
 Give them to meet the loved and lost on high, 
 Where no dark clouds shall dim the eternal day I 
 
 THE END. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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