Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 9.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

[115] could for us. All were alike interested in the result, and I have no doubt he who commanded us in defeat held the cause as sacred as the illustrious chief who fell the day before.

I will not detain you longer to-night, for it is difficult to write about one of five magnificent regiments which composed the First Kentucky Brigade.

The “Orphan brigade” made everybody famous who commanded it in battle, John C. Breckinridge, Robert P. Trabue, Roger W. Henson, Ben Hardin Helm, Jo. H. Lewis, names never to be forgotten as long as there is a South for the sun to shine upon; and each time our minds recur to the “Lost cause” their names grow dearer. The Fourth loved these men as few people are ever loved. And it is not boasting too much to say that they knew greatness when they saw it, and could penetrate shallow pretense quicker than any people I have ever yet seen. Our Brigadiers have all passed away, except one, and have gone to meet a larger number of our comrades than they left behind. The first died surrounded by his friends in Lexington. The second died just as he received a long-deserved promotion. The third fell at the head of his column at Murfreesboro. The fourth was mortally wounded at Chickamauga, and carried to the grave the same sweet smile he had while living. The fifth enjoys a peaceful home in Glasgow, having had honors heaped upon him by his admiring neighbors. It is hard for me to separate the living and the dead when I dwell on the stirring events of the past. Thought is unable to divide the time of their death from the active scenes of our comrades since, and those who fell and those who survive intrude on my mind at the same time. A halo of glory seems to encircle the resting places of the dead, while a no less brilliant accompaniment of honor is clothed upon the living. So great is the number of our loved ones who “have crossed over the river” that I expect that “in the shade of the everlasting trees,” enjoying the long sighed for “rest,” they are waiting and watching for the remnant to “fall in.”