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[270] etc. Our regiments were made up of all grades and conditions of men, educated and uneducated. In the ranks were lawyers, doctors, merchants, and A. M.'s alongside our sturdy mountaineers. The latter were accustomed to hardships, and with his rifle the head of a wild turkey at 100 yards was knocked off nine times out of ten. Just before entering the Army I was out hunting with my rifle. I had found a squirrel and was trying to get a shot at him, but as fast as I would move quietly arouud the tree he would keep out of my sight by moving around to the other side. Suddenly I heard the crack of a rifle, and the squirrel fell to the ground, shot through the head. To my surprise, I found that a young man (our overseer's son) had shot him from up the mountainside, some 150 yards from where I was standing. These men were independent and courageous, and often paid but little attention to the discipline imposed by their officers. While Colonel Strange, of Charlottesville, Va., was drilling his regiment in that town a short time before being ordered to the front, he said:

Mr. Jones, stand square, sir!

Mr. Jones immediately replied:

Colonel Strange, I are squar, sir!

Mr. Jones was a splendid specimen of the mountaineer, and of such material as many of the best Confederate soldiers were made.

Yes, we whipped them badly at Manassas, sometimes called the battle of Bull Run by the skedaddlers, for it was the battle of Manassas that gave to the English language the new word ‘skedaddle.’ So much has been written about this battle that I will not attempt any special description of the disposition of the troops or their manoeuvres, but give you extracts from papers and reports from men who were engaged in the battle, that these facts may be before the eyes of our citizens, and not reply, as did a young lady to a friend of mine a few weeks ago in Philadelphia, when asked some question about the Civil war, she replied after some hesitation: ‘About what war. Oh, yes, I remember now,’ she said, ‘you mean the war in which they hung Jeff. Davis on a sour apple tree?’ I was only 15 years old when I visited the camps of Beauregard's army at Manassas. It was my first sight of such a scene. I was with my brother-in-law, Catlett Fitzhugh, and rode horseback about the camps, witnessing the drilling of troops and seeing everything that was to be seen about a large army. General Winfield Scott was too old to command, hence General McDowell was in charge of

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