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 Sergeant in the 1st Conn, Cavalry, 
 
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 lOMPII.EII BT 
 
 THEODORE J. HOLMES. 
 
 <H/.l'I.AiN OK THE REGIMENT. 
 
 "To plan and dare*, 
 To use life, is life's proper end. 
 Let death come when it will, and where." 
 
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 In Zion's Hill Cemetery, at Hartford, Conn., lie the re- 
 mains of Johx S. Jameson, one of the thousands sacrificed 
 in our late war for the Union ; — one of the many who were 
 mourned not alone by kindred and friends, but whose de- 
 cease might be justly regarded a national calamity. 
 
 The object of this sketch is to record, as briefly as possi- 
 ble, some special features of his life — not only to gratify 
 those best acquainted with him, but for the information of 
 many who knew him enough to love and honor him, and 
 yet saw but half his worth. Few of his army comrades 
 ever suspected that he possessed those rare qualities, es- 
 pecially that genius in art, which made him, at home, the 
 object of so much admiration. His rough service as a soldier, 
 did not develop what he was himself too modest to reveal. 
 
 He was born at Hartford, Conn., March 25th. 1812, and 
 died August :)lst, 1801. 
 
 When only nine years old, he manifested unusual taste 
 and ability for music, expressing a strong desire to learn to 
 
4 
 play the piano ; and soon made rapid progress under the 
 guidance of his parents, both musicians — his father, Mr. 
 John Jameson, professional organist, and his mother, Mrs. 
 Rachel S. Jameson, a celebrated singer. When eleven years 
 of age his parents removed their residence to New York, 
 where he was able to enjoy rare opportunities for musicial 
 culture, under the instruction, successively, of Messrs. II. W. 
 Greatorex, W. A. King, George W. Morgan, L. M. Gotts- 
 chalk, and finally under Mr. Wra. Mason, to whose voluntary 
 instruction and personal friendship he was greatly indebted 
 for the proficiency which he afterwards attained. 
 
 He early developed, too, a talent, quite as marked for 
 drawing and painting. During his thirteenth year, while 
 attending the Public Grammar School in Thirteenth street, 
 he drew, one day, upon a slate, a sketch of his grandmother, 
 so lifelike that it attracted the notice of several Artists, 
 especially of' Mr. Frederick E Church, who became, subse- 
 quently, his warm friend and patron. 
 
 It is certainly very remarkable that a mere boy should 
 have developed, in two different directions, genius which 
 won him such distinguished friends. The estimate in which 
 these two gentlemen held him, appears best from letters 
 written by them to his mother, after his decease, from 
 which extracts are here given : 
 
Mr. Frederick E. Church writes from Hudson, N. Y., 
 April 25, 1867 : 
 
 " Of all the younger Artists whose personal acquaintance I 
 have made, and whose works and characteristics of mind and 
 heart came to my observation, no one has interestsd me so 
 much as your son, or held out better grounded hopes of fu- 
 ture high excellence. His standard was a lofty one, and it ap- 
 peared to me that no selfish ambition guided Jus hand as he 
 essayed to portray the varied aspects of nature. When I 
 heard that he had entered the army, I rejoiced, for I thought 
 it likely the regular camp-life,-change of air and scene- 
 would so improve his general health as to give him back his 
 eyes again restored. When I think how such a pure, high- 
 minded and talented youth was sacrificed to the rage of the 
 wicked-I almost feel tempted to rejoice that the direst ca- 
 lamity has visited those regions of inhumanity. I thank you 
 for your thoughtful kindness in sending me the sketch which 
 will be one of those few things I expect always to have as 
 fixtures in my home. Mrs. Church's estimate of the charac- 
 ter and ability of your son coincides exactly with mine and 
 with yours ; can I give him higher praise ?» 
 
Mr. William Mason writes from Orange, N. J., Oct. 12th, 
 1867, as follows : 
 
 " A few years ago happening to call at one of the Piano- 
 forte Warerooms in Broadway, N. Y., ray attention was im- 
 mediately attracted to a young man who was playing on one 
 of the instruments. He was evidently improvising, and I 
 was at once impressed with the beauty of his touch and the 
 thoroughly musical manner of his playing. I ascertained 
 his name from the proprietor of the place, and a few days 
 afterwards, unbeknown to him, called upon his father and 
 expressed the interest excited by his son (John S. Jameson) 
 and my desire to be of service to him in his musical studies. 
 Shortly after this he commenced his lessons with me, which 
 were continued for several months, during which time he 
 made rapid progress. His musical talent was of a very high 
 order. He possessed a fine talent for composition and also, 
 improvised exceedingly well, although I am not aware 
 that he ever committed anything to paper. 
 
 " On one occasion I accompanied him by invitation, to the 
 studio of the Artist, Frederick E Church, who was at the 
 time engaged on his painting — ' Heart of the Andes.' We 
 passed a very pleasant hour there and on taking leave, Mr. 
 Church asked what course I would advise Mr. Jameson to 
 pursue — whether to become a painter or a musician. My 
 
7 
 answer was that I was not competent to judge of bis 
 abihty as a painter,-but it seemed to me that I had never 
 met with a finer musicial talent. Mr. Church expressed 
 a nearly similar opinion regarding his talent for painting. 
 
 " On another occasion, being about to publish a p i ece of 
 music for the Piano, on meeting Mr. Jameson I asked if he 
 could draw me a design for a vignette title-page. The sug- 
 gestion was made more playfully than in earnest, but he im 
 mediately acted upon it, and in a day or two brought me a 
 beautiful sketch, in pencil, of his own composition. Not 
 wdlmg, as he said, to have it spoiled by an Engraver he 
 would draw it himself upon stone, which he actually did, and 
 notwithstanding it was his first attempt at anything of the 
 Wnd, it proved a perfect success; although he expressed 
 Inmself dissatisfied with the tints in which it was afterwards 
 pnnted. I believe that the last time we met, was some two 
 or three years ago and on the last day of 1863. At that 
 time he called upon Mrs. M. and myself, in Orange, N J 
 early in the evening, saymg as he entered the house, that 
 be could stay but a few moments as he was going to New- 
 ark to play some accompaniments for his mother, who had 
 engaged to sing at a concert there that evening. By some 
 
 oversight he missed the train and consequently ,_ed the 
 evening at our house. We played some duetts toother 
 
and 1 also recollect being deeply impressed with his impro- 
 visations on the Piano. Mrs. M. and myself vividly recall 
 his open, honest, genial face, his manly form and enthusi- 
 astic manner. 
 
 " One of his first paintings, a beautiful little landscape, 
 which he presented to me as a token of regard, hangs' in the 
 cosiest nook in our little parlor, and is doubly endeared to 
 us since his departure to the other world." 
 
 Such was the regard entertained for him by these eminent 
 critics. That their sentiments represented their respective 
 professions, was evident from similar testimonials which 
 came from other noted artists. Mr. Henri Appy, known to 
 the public as a solo violinist at Jenny Lind's Concerts in this 
 country, and more recently President of the Musical Con- 
 servatory at Rochester, N. Y., writes from that place under 
 date of Augugt 14, 18G7 : 
 
 • v I have often had the pleasure of listening to Mr. Jameson 
 aud to practice with him music of the best class, in which 
 he has given me the best satisfaction. He understood in 
 the highest degree, the old and modern masters, and as a 
 musician and a pianist he would certainly have become the 
 praise of his country." 
 
9 
 
 The following is from the Sixth Annual Report of the 
 Artists' Fund Society of New York, submitted by its Presi- 
 dent, Mr. John F. Kensitt : 
 
 " Stricken from the roll of members is the name of one 
 who was with us in the early struggles of this Society. His 
 life was sacrificed to a noble and patriotic sense of duty to 
 his country. In the loathsome fields of Andeisonville lie the 
 mortal remains of the young, brave and enthusiastic John S. 
 Jameson. Had his life been spared, the rare qualities of his 
 mind — his exquisite taste and accomplishments, and fine pro- 
 mise of future excellence in his art, would have reflected 
 honor upon this Society and upon the country of his birth." 
 
 This organization, at its quarterly meeting, May 10, 18G5, 
 after an address by Col. Vincent Collyer, adopted, at his 
 kind suggestion, the following resolution : 
 
 " That the Treasurer of the Artists' Fund Society be in- 
 structed to pay to the legal heirs of John S. Jameson the 
 sum of fifteen hundred dollars, as an acknowledgment of his 
 faithfulness while he was a member of this Society, and in 
 recognition of his estimable qualities as an Artist and a 
 Patriot," 
 
 But sufficient testimony has been given to vindicate the 
 hold our young friend had won upon the esteem of those 
 best fitted to judge him. He continued his studies in the 
 
10 
 
 two professions — with patience and devotion constrained by 
 the love of both, — puzzled himself, as his friends were, to de- 
 cide which had upon him the superior claim. In the fall of 
 1859, he succeeded to the situation of organist, made vacant 
 by the death of his Father, at the Church of the Purtiaus, on 
 Union Scpiare, N. Y. A portion of each year he spent 
 among the Caatskills, the Adirondacs or the mountains of 
 New England. 
 
 The " Grain Field," exhibited in the first collection of the 
 Artists' Fund Society, (painted at the age of eighteen) se- 
 cured for its author a place among the foremost of young 
 artists then coming into notice. This was followed by "The 
 Mill in the Storm," " Hanging Hills," and " Old Homestead," 
 scenes in Meriden, Conn., " After a Shower," " Moon rise 
 at Sun set," " Twilight on Caatskill Creek," " Artists' Camp 
 on the Caatskills," " Battinkdl Creek," " Saranac Waters," 
 " Sun set on Big Tupper Lake," and others. His " Adiron- 
 dac Scenery," and " Meriden from Mount Lamentation," 
 are worthy of mention as among the last of his works. 
 
 But besides these he left many sketches, a portion of 
 which are distributed as mementoes among his friends. 
 From some of these studies, copies for this purpose have 
 been executed by his mother, — whose taste and skill with 
 
11 
 
 the pencil, as well as with the voice, show that her boy 
 came rightfully by his versatile talents. 
 
 At the outbreak of the war the sympathies of the young 
 Artist were warmly engaged. His impulse to enlist at once 
 was discouraged by friends in view of his youth and his deli- 
 cate physical organization ; in view, too, of the obligations 
 he owed to his widowed mother. Again in 1803, the desire 
 to be in the field took strong hold of him. " My heart," he 
 said, " is there and I can accomplish nothing here." At 
 times his effort to study seemed wholly paralyzed. It was 
 now that in consideration of his maturer years and confirm- 
 ed health, his mother yielded to his patriotic desire, and 
 while pursuing his Art studies and fulfilling a brief engage- 
 ment in Meriden, Conn., as organist, he responded to the 
 call of the President, enlisted January 2d, 1861, with a 
 younger brother, as a private in the First Connecticut Cav- 
 alry, for three years' service. 
 
 After he had enlisted, some friend sought to persuade him 
 that his worth would be wasted in the ordinary work of a 
 soldier, and offered to procure him a situation in Hartford, in 
 some government office. But to such solicitation he made 
 quietly but firmly this characteristic reply — as reported by a 
 companion : " No ; if I put on the blue I want to rough it 
 with the boys in the field. I should be ashamed to be stay. 
 
12 
 
 ing at home at my ease, while others were fighting at the 
 front." 
 
 From Meriden he went with others to the rendezvous at 
 New London, and from there, soon, to the camp of the First 
 Conn. Cavalry at Baltimore, Md. After a very tedious 
 trip, during which he had seen the most disagreeable side of 
 a private's position, he writes home to his mother : " The 
 more I see and the more I think it over, the more impossible 
 it is for me to find one regret at the step I have taken, and 
 were it not for your grief I should have gone away happy. 
 If you knew what a weight seems lifted off my breast, and 
 how much freer I breathe, you would be glad with me that 
 I am here." At Camp Chesebro, Baltimore, Md., he was 
 kept busy most of the time, with his duties as Quarter 
 Master Sergeant, to which office he had been assigned, and 
 with other work in his Company or for the Regiment, 
 which he was always as ready as he was competent to do. 
 He found here some small field for his music, having been 
 at once solicited to preside at the Melodeon which had 
 been procured for the Chapel of the camp. 
 
 After nearly two months spent here, he started with the 
 regiment, March 8, on that spring campaign into Virginia, 
 whose motto was, at the beginning and at the end, " On to 
 Richmond." After two or three temporary halts they 
 
13 
 
 encamped at a town called Stevensburg, Va., a short distance 
 south of Culpepper, and east of Brandy Station, having been 
 assigned to the First Brigade of the Third Division, then 
 commanded by Gen. Kilpatrick. The Division was one of 
 the three which formed the cavalry corps, to the command 
 of which Gen. Philip H. Sheridan was very soon assigned. 
 Our camp experience here, for a few days, the surgeon, a 
 veteran in the service, pronounced the hardest he had ever 
 seen ; certainly this was the testimony of those now 
 trying the field for the first time. It was just in the 
 season for Virginia mud which violent and protracted 
 rains had made far worse than usual for camping pur- 
 poses. Officers and men went for days and nights togeth- 
 er, wet and chilled through with the cold, driving storm. 
 But more grateful times came in a few days ; the sun at last 
 shone, the ground became dry, the camp was removed to a 
 delightful location on the sunny slope of a hill within a few 
 rods of brigade headquarters, and but two miles from rebel 
 pickets. From our tents we had a very extensive and pic- 
 turesque prospect, the view of the Blue Ridge being singu- 
 larly fine, as its peaks were then covered with snow. With 
 the sunshine, revealing such magnificent scenery, there came 
 to the camp a more cheerful atmosphere. The Band at head- 
 quarters became inspired ; the men began to sing, and soon 
 
14 
 
 it was proposed to organize a choir, or glee club. Accord- 
 ingly the singers of the regiment gathered one day and, by 
 common consent, asked Sergeant Jameson to be their leader. 
 We admired his fine voice, a clear baritone tenor, which 
 seems at home to have been so far eclipsed by other accom- 
 plishments that his family friends express surprise that he 
 was a singer at all. Books, sacred and patriotic, were sent 
 us from New York, through the kindness of Mrs. Jameson, 
 and a system of rehearsals began which was not to have a 
 very long duration. More than one of those mild evenings 
 of early spring we would sing for hours in the open air the 
 old songs with which all were familiar — " Oh the home we 
 love," " There's a good time coining, boys," and then others 
 which had a fascination from their very sadness — ■" Away 
 from the ones we love," " We may fall in the heat of the 
 battle," and — 
 
 "Many are the hearts t! at are weary to-night, 
 Long ng for t!;e war to cease." 
 
 Then, ever^ little while we would stop singing to watch the 
 signal lights of the enemy, just across the Rapidan, and to 
 wonder what they meant. We found soon that they meant 
 work, so our music books were stored with the Quarter- 
 master, and our singing was, for the time, over. 
 
 Indeed, while the retnment was at Stevensburo; there was 
 
15 
 
 much of hard and perilous work. Thirty-three per ceut. of 
 the cavalry were all the while at the extreme front. Pickets 
 remained on duty three or four days, sometimes longer, 
 without being relieved ; scouting parties came in frequent 
 collision with rebel guerillas, whose mode of warfare was 
 savage enough. One of the regiment, Sergeant George A. 
 Fish of Co. H, received from a party of these bushwackers 
 twenty different wounds, the more serious of them after he 
 had surrendered and fallen, in a dying state. 
 
 Jameson, though exempt from picket work as Quarter 
 Master Sergeant, yet chose to go on those expeditions, to 
 take his share of hardship and to accompany his younger 
 brother, for whom he felt the deepest interest He writes 
 to his mother, May 30th ; 
 
 " We returned from piekec Sunday night, having been 
 out niue days. I was tired, a well as my horse, when we 
 got home, and well I might have been, having traveled 
 about 160 miles during the nine days, besides having lots of 
 Quartermaster and Commissary work to do." And yet af- 
 ter such experience, and with the expectation of entering 
 immediately upon the terrible work in prospect, he con- 
 cludes the letter by saying: " Think of me as being better 
 contented than I ever have been since the war commenced." 
 
 On the 3d of May, about midnight, the 3d Cavalry Divis- 
 
1G 
 
 ion broke camp, and after inarching steadily and rapidly all 
 nhdit. with occasional brief halts to allow columns of artil- 
 lery and infantry to pass, arrived about daylight at Ger- 
 mania Ford on the Rapidan. Crossing the river before the 
 pontoons had been laid, they pushed forward, expecting 
 every hour to strike the enemy, but meeting no considerable 
 force till, on the second day, they encountered a full corps of 
 rebel infantry. Then followed those weeks and months of 
 constant work. During the first raid under Sheridan, about 
 Richmond, which occurred very soon, the cavalry were, on 
 an average, eighteen or twenty hours a day in the saddle, 
 riding all the while, with but brief intermission for rest or 
 food, shelled more than once out of their sleep in the morn- 
 ing by rebel gunners that during the night had found them 
 by their camp fires, losing heavily from wounds, from 
 sickness, and from exhaustion. 
 
 So, in May and June, besides all the work which could not 
 be measured or recorded, the regiment earned the right 
 officially given, to write on its flag the names of thirteen 
 battles. During all this arduous campaign Sergeant Jame- 
 son had borne go unexceptionable a record, had suffered so 
 patiently, had fought witli such bravery, that he had won the 
 esteem of the whole regiment. He had a horse shot under 
 him at Strawberry Hill, within the first line of fortifications 
 
17 
 
 at Richmond, but escaped here, as elsewhere, all personal 
 harm. 
 
 The opinion which his superior officers cherished of him, is 
 shown by the following extracts from letters written after 
 his death : 
 
 i in J. D. Thompson of Company M., says: "John S. 
 
 Jameson, a Quarter Master Sergeant of my Company, was 
 
 a soldier who commanded the respect and admiration of 
 both officers and men of his company by a strict attention 
 to all Irs duties. Socially, he was beloved by all who came 
 in contact with him, and it could be truly said of him — 
 
 ' None knew hi love him, 
 
 None I : but to pr.ii.se.'" 
 
 Major George O. Marcy, who was in command of the 
 Regiment at camp Chesebrough, and also during the " Wil- 
 son Raid," says : " I distinctly recollect that cold, wintry 
 morning, when a squad of new recruits were drawn up in 
 the snow in front of the Provost Marshal's office in Camden 
 street. Baltimore, and I stepped out to receive them, that 
 Jameson stood on the right of the line, his superior height 
 giving him that distinction. Having known him at Meriden, 
 1 was acquainted with his worth, but was not able to recog- 
 nize it more fully at that time than by giving him a Sergeant's 
 warrant, and it was only his short service which prevented 
 
 
lb 
 
 his attaining a higher rank, for his name had been placed 
 among the first on the list of those entitled to promotion. 
 I think I can can say. without fulsome flattery, that he was a 
 universal favorite among officers and men He was an 
 earnest worker, an ardent patriot, a polished gentleman and 
 a Christian soldier. The change from his cozy studio to 
 the little, mean shelter tent, almost buried in the mud of 
 Virginia, in the most inclement month of the year, seemed 
 to have no depressing effect upon him. Devotion to princi- 
 ple was the inspiration of his soldier-life. He was brave, as 
 men of his class always are. He was wonderfully preserved, 
 though so much at the front during the spring and early 
 summer of 18(M.'* 
 
 Colonel (now Brevet Brigadier General) Erastus Blakes- 
 lee, who commanded the Regiment after they left Baitimore, 
 through all the subsequent campaign till June 1st, gives the 
 following testimony : " Sergeant Jameson attracted my 
 attention almost immediately after he joined the Regiment, 
 and I soon learned to regard him as one of those thoroughly 
 brave and trustworthy men on whom I could always rely to 
 accomplish the full measure of their duty in any time of 
 either difficnlty or danger. I marked him as a perfect 
 gentleman. He seemed to me a person of very fine natural 
 temperament, having a self-centered mind which depended 
 
19 
 
 for its true nobility not so much on surrounding circumstan- 
 ces as on its own consciousness of rectitude. He had too 
 much self respect to ever come in conflict with his superior 
 officers, and too much high toned spirit to ever flinch from 
 danger. At the time of his capture his name was, unbe- 
 known to him, on my list for speedy promotion, and but for 
 his untimely " taking off" lie would doubtless soon have at- 
 tained that position in the Regiment which his gallantry 
 demanded, and for which, by his education and accomplish- 
 ments, he was well fitted." 
 
 From such testimonies, which represent accurately the 
 feeling of the Regiment, it is evident that although kept in 
 the ranks — only because there was no pause in the cam- 
 paign long enough to commission him — he was yet, in a 
 good degree, appreciated as a soldier and as a man. From 
 his limited period of service, in a subordinate position, he 
 could not develop fully the soldierly qualities which he 
 really possessed. Had his life been spared there is every 
 reason to believe that the virtues which characterized him 
 in private spheres, his intelligence, his clearness and quick- 
 ness of perception, his integrity of purpose, steady self pos- 
 session, manly honor, resolute courage and earnest patriot- 
 ism, would have made him, without a question, conspicuous 
 anions the officers of the Regiment and of the service. 
 
20 
 
 About one o'clock on the morning of June 22, the o<\ Cav- 
 alry Division, joined by four or five Regiments of General 
 Kaut's Cavalry, the whole force under General Wilson . start- 
 ed southward on what is known, in the History of the War, 
 as the " Wilson Raid." Crossing the Petersburg and Wel- 
 dou Railroad at Reams Station, they struck, at several 
 points, both the Lynchburg (or South Side,) and the Dan- 
 ville Roads — destroying a great amount of property. On 
 their return to the Union lines, they were met by strong 
 bodies of the enemy sent to intercept them. Arriving at 
 Reams Station, General Wilson found himself surrounded 
 by troops despatched from Lee's Army, which was but a few 
 miles distant. It was here that Captain (now Brevet Briga- 
 dier General) E. W. Whittaker, of the General's Staff, was or- 
 dered to attempt with forty men the perilous task of open- 
 ing communication with our Infantry, to the left of Peters- 
 burg. He dashed through several bodies of rebel cavalry 
 and infantry, arriving safely, with half his command, at Gen- 
 eral Meade's head quarters. A portion of the Gth Corps 
 was sent to reinforce General Wilson, but were so much de- 
 layed that, before their arrival, he was obliged to abandon 
 his trains and fall back as speedily as possible. A long line 
 of ambulances, filled with the sick and wounded, were drawn 
 up and left by the roadside, but many of the poor fellows 
 
•Jl 
 
 wore afterwards re-captured by the 6th Corps. Gun car- 
 riages and caissons, army wagons loaded with ammunition 
 and stores, articles of every description, confiscated on the 
 march — all were gathered in a field and fired. A very large 
 number of contrabands, men, women and children, estimated 
 by thousands, had to be left to the mercy of the enemy 
 
 When the command started from Reams Station, hotly 
 pressed by the Rebel Cavalry, the difficult position of rear 
 guard was assigned to the 1st Conn. Cavalry and held by 
 them till the Nottoway River was crossed. The retreat was 
 continued, not always in the best order, across Stoney Creek 
 the Nottoway and the Black water, into the army of the 
 Potomac. So, the raid which was glorious in the work it 
 accomplished, especially in the destruction of more than 
 sixty miles of Railroad, came to a very inglorious end, Al- 
 though Gen. Sheridan, in his offical report of the expedition, 
 says it would have been a complete success had the Caval- 
 ry been supported by the Infantry as it was understood they 
 should be. The loss experienced by our Regiment — twenty 
 per cent, of the whole fighting force— killed, wounded or 
 missing, was small in view of what had been endured. Some 
 of the time there was keen suffering from hunger, as five 
 days' rations issued at the start could hardly be stretched over 
 ten days, and there was little opportunity for foraging. Not 
 
oo 
 
 more than once was permission formally given to unsaddle 
 and to make coffee, though it was possible to nibble at hard 
 tack and salt pork, where any could be got, at odd moments 
 of halting, or while on the march. All suffered, too, very 
 much, from want of rest. During the ten days, not more 
 than two hours out of the twenty-four, on an average, could 
 be afforded for comfortable sleep. One of the Chief Sur- 
 geons of the division remarked, he was surprised at one time 
 to realize that he had not slept at all in seventy-two hours, 
 and his whole nervous system was almost entirely prostrated 
 by fatigue and excitement. It was his opinion that the great- 
 er part of the missing had fallen out from mere exhaustion, 
 and been captured. Yet it was when the command were in 
 this condition that they started from Reams Station on their 
 forced march of a hundred miles. It is a wonder, that, pur- 
 sued sharply as they were, so large a proportion should have 
 returned in safety. Very many of the horses became worn 
 out, having been almost constantly saddled, marching over 
 three hundred miles, kept on short forage or oftencr none, 
 going sometimes for forty-eight hours without a drop of 
 water. Then to appreciate these sufferings of horses and 
 men it must be remembered that the ten days consumed by 
 the expedition embraced the very hottest of the hot weather 
 for which that summer seemed specially marked, only a 
 
23 
 
 single shower occurring during the whole time, and that not 
 enough to lay the dust. It surely is not strange that so 
 many should have been worn out and should have fallen in- 
 to the hands of the enemy. 
 
 Upon the list of the missing, after the Raid, was the name 
 of John S. Jameson. It was impossible to know whether he 
 was dead or a prisoner, and the agony of suspense suffered 
 by friends at home, through long months of weary waiting, 
 no one can understand but those who have tasted a like ex- 
 perience. His fate was not known till April, 1865, when it 
 was discovered that he had died at Andersonville, Ga., Au j. 
 31st, 1801. The information came through Dorrance At- 
 watcr, who was captured in July, 1803, a few days subse- 
 quent to the battle of Gettysburg, and after being confined 
 in several of the rebel prisons, spent a long time at Ander- 
 sonville. Being an excellent penman he was made clerk 
 in the hospital, and suspecting that although the Confederate 
 Government professed to send North a list of the Union 
 dead, they really did not do it, he copied the list himself 
 clandestinely, secreting it upon his person when he was ex- 
 changed. 
 
 One of the hospital books could not be found when the 
 place was captured by our forces, and the names it contained, 
 over two thousand, could only be supplied from Atwater's 
 
24 
 
 list — so that to his forethought and boldness many a family 
 are indebted for the only information they could ever have 
 received of their lost friends. It is a satisfaction to these 
 families to know that lie ia at last likely to receive at the 
 hands of our Government the appreciation which his con- 
 duct deserves. 
 
 From two of the First Connecticut Cavalry captured on 
 the same Raid and taken to Andersonville — Corporal Frank 
 Schumaker, Co A, and Corporal W. H. Cook, Co G, who 
 met Sergeant Jameson at Libby Prison, some particulars 
 were obtained regarding his capture, as given them by him- 
 self, and of his subsequent experience. He was taken June 
 29, on the retreat, near Reams Station, having fallen behind 
 on account of illness and exhaustion. He was rilling his 
 canteen at a creek just crossed by the Regiment, when the 
 rebels came in between and cut him off. He was ta^en to 
 a planter's house near by, with a number of others, and re- 
 mained there till the next day, when, being too weak to 
 walk, he was put on a worn-out horse and carried to Peters- 
 burg. Here he was stripped, in common with the other 
 prisoners, of everything he had. They took such articles of 
 clothing as were at all valuable, money, family photographs, 
 and even his testament. From there they were taken to 
 Libby Prison at Richmond. Though prostrated much of the 
 
25 
 time with diarrhea, he did very much to encourage' his com- 
 rades to keep up good heart, telling them the Union army 
 was certain to triumph, and the prisoners would soon be 
 free. On the 4th of July, he joined with others in cheering 
 heartily the " Stars and Stripes." 
 
 On the 17th of July, they started from Richmond for 
 Georgia. The trip, in exteremely oppressive heat, in covered 
 box cars, was very wearing even to those in health, but was 
 especially exhausting to our sick friend. lie suffered great- 
 ly from hunger, as very inadequate rations were served them, 
 and at Goldsboro, became so desperate as to sell his blouse 
 to a negro for a little corn bread. More than once, when 
 with the Regiment, he had been glad to eat raw the hard 
 shelled corn foraged for the horses, but now he could not get 
 even tin's. Arriving at Andersoc ville, he fainted away, but 
 when a comrade dashed water in his face and gave him some 
 to drink, he revived and was carried at once into the Hos- 
 pital, which he never left till carried out to the grave. His 
 companions from whom these particulars were obtained, 
 went into the stockade, and from the time of their separation 
 nothing definite is known of his experience in the Hospital 
 nothing except the fact of his decease. 
 
 His grave, carefully marked by Dorrance Atwater, was 
 easily identified at the close of the war, and his remains 
 
26 
 
 were removed to Hartford, where they were re-interred, 
 June 29th, 1866, after funeral services conducted by the 
 Chaplain of his Regiment. Friends who mourn that they 
 could not have been near him in those last days of weakness 
 and suffering, are thankful for the comfort, denied so many 
 afflicted homes, that he sleeps quietly, among kindred, in the 
 place of his birth ; that his grave is where they who loved him 
 can come and weep and pray ; where comrades can gather 
 to talk of his virtues, to recount the story of soldier-life, to 
 cover with flowers his place of rest, and to take anew the 
 old pledge of devotion to the principles for which he suffer- 
 ed and died. 
 
 The country is not even yet enough recovered from the 
 shock of the war to realize the price paid for its redemption. 
 The life, briefly sketched in this memorial, is but one of near- 
 ly 300,000 that were laid upon the altar, multitudes of them 
 like this, lives of extraordinary promise, all of them unspeak- 
 ably clear to sorrowing friends. Many Biographies have 
 been written which awaiten a bitter regret that lives so rich 
 in gifts, so radiant with virtue, so noble in real manhood, 
 should have gone out so suddenly, so soon. Yet there were 
 many, many others whose histories will never be read, who 
 were in their own circles of friendship as honored and as 
 dear, whose future was as fair, whose blood was as cheerfully 
 
27 
 
 given. What precious sacrifices were offered up during 
 those cruel years, Cod onjy knows — God and the homes 
 scattered through the land that have been made desolate. 
 Yet who will say that the offering was too costly, that the 
 blood which flowed like a river was wasted, in view of the re- 
 sults accomplished, — the rebel power broken, our free insti- 
 tutions preserved, our country a unit, not one star lost from 
 her banner? 
 
 A placard posted in the streets of one of our New Eng- 
 gland Cities in 1S61, calling for recruils, asked with the spirit 
 of '76, " What will it matter if to-morrow we die, provided, 
 through our death, the Country can lie free !" Thousands 
 who rallied at these brave words never came back from the 
 war. They Imped, with as much confidence as they dared, 
 to see again those to whom they had said " good bye," but 
 were disappointed. In the First Connecticut Cavalry a 
 custom was observed that became to the Regiment very 
 dear. When a mail arrived, our Chief Bugler, Voltz, 
 came to Head Quarters, and with a skill which few knew so 
 well as he, played '• Home, Sweet Home." It was ofteu a 
 very strangp sound, sometimes it came during a brief halt 
 on a march ; sometimes during the lull in a battle ; some- 
 times on return from picket — always bringing as it rang 
 through the regiment, memories and hopes which only a 
 
28 
 
 soldier can understan ; . During winter quarters at Win- 
 chester, Va., it was the last sound but one from the bugle 
 at night. Many a tired boy lay down to rest humming as 
 he fell asleep that sweet strain of Home, remembering it in 
 his dreams, awaking at Reveille to find home still far away, 
 but hoping that hope which lightened all burdens, that one 
 day the dream should be a fact. 
 
 In the letters writen home by Sergeant Jameson, there 
 were frequent expressions like these — " I look forward with 
 good faith to the happy re-organization of our little family" — 
 " I think of all at home constantly, and long to be with you 
 again, and if things move as successfully as they have moved 
 of late, next Ml wil see us re-united — that's one thing we're 
 fighting for." The lono-ing;, breathed in such words, was 
 shared by many a comrade who is resting with him, to-day, 
 in the grave. But though denied the fulfillment of their 
 hopes, they died with the satisfaction that they were winning 
 a " Sweet Home" for the dear ones they had left behind. 
 A conciousness of this inspires the hearts of the people with 
 gratitude towards the dead of the war, the remembrance 
 that to them is due, in a large measure, our flag, our liber- 
 ties, the peace and plenty of quiet homes, all in fact that 
 gives security and joy to oar civil life. On one of four tab- 
 lets in the State House at Boston, which formed the base of 
 
29 
 
 a column erected in 1791, on Beacon Hill, visitors read the 
 following inscription — " Americans ! — wliile from this emin" 
 ence, scenes of luxuriant fertility, of flourishing commei 
 and the abodes of social happiness meet your view, forget 
 not those who by their exertions have secured to you the 
 blessings." Around the room, in which these talleta are. 
 hang two hundred flags, ragged and bloody, which the va- 
 rious Massachusetts Regiments brought home from the 
 war; and in such a presence the exhortation applies 
 well to history of to day. — calling upon Americans now to 
 cherish in gratitude and love the memory of the martyr 
 dead," Happily the Nation feels that it has no honi 
 worthy enough for its brave defenders, and it is a conscious- 
 ness of this which strengthens those upon whom the loss has 
 chiefly fallen. That New England mother who said, calmly, 
 with an almost breaking heart, '• I think I am very grate- 
 ful to Go 1, that T ever had so dear a boy to give to my 
 country" — was one of a multitude, mothers, wiv is, 
 
 — the class that bore the heaviest burdens of the war — avIio, 
 in their loneliness and sorrow, find sweet joy in reflecting 
 that they were able to spend so much, their all perhaps, to 
 buy life for the nation. Such pirit of heroic patriotism, 
 tin I licve, will prevail more and more, in 
 
 years to come. As it is an honor to claim in one's ancestry 
 
30 
 
 a name among the Revolutionary dead, so, in another gen- 
 oration, when the momentous meaning of our recent struggle 
 is understood, when its fruits are all gathered, its lessons all 
 learnt, and the world sees what it accomplished for the na- 
 tion and the race, — no household, then, will want a prouder 
 distinction than the right to say, " we lost one or more in 
 the war for the Union." Communities, too, will cherish, 
 more and more affectionately and reverently, their martyr 
 list; after monuments have grown old and time has effaced 
 their inscriptions, the names will be still remembered, all of 
 them, — -written on the hearts of grateful countrymen. 
 
31 
 
 TO MRS. JAMESON. 
 
 On Freedom's altar yon have laid 
 
 A gift of costliest price, 
 Even the firstborn of your flock, 
 
 A perfect sacrifice. 
 
 Yet count the offering not too dear, 
 
 Nor sit unreconciled ; 
 What have you, you have not received 
 
 From Him, who claimed your child V 
 
 Remember too, though he was all 
 
 Your loving heart desired, 
 Of those to whom the most is given 
 
 The most will be required. 
 
 lie may be nearer than you deem, 
 Though to your sight denied ; 
 
 A ministering angel still, 
 A -better, surer, guide. 
 
 (bine from the world perchance to save 
 
 Some soul in sin astray : 
 Who following now, the path hi' trod 
 
 Will find the heavenly way. 
 
 Ail surely one so fit for earth 
 
 Was fitter for the sky ; 
 Hi', who was Iir.l prepared to live. 
 Was be t prepared to die. 
 
 Piicere Gary 
 January, 30th, I 
 
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