d from the bole of the piece by the weight of the sinking body of the noble cannoneer.
This incident reminds me of another which well illustrates how receptive and retentive of pictorial impression are the minds of men-especially men of a certain type-at moments of intense excitement.
It is this faculty, in great measure, which imparts special interest and value to the personal reminiscences of men of this character.
Nearly three years after the battle of Williamsburg, I think in March, 1865, entering the office of the provostshal of the city of Richmond for the first and only time during the war, I found an officer, in a new uniform of a colonel of cavalry, in an unpleasant altercation with one of the employees of the office.
As I approached he turned to me, saying:
It's a hard case, Major, that a veteran colonel of the Army of Northern Virginia is bearded in this way by a beardless boy of a provost-marshal's clerk, and that he cannot have even the poor satisfaction
o come up dis way.
Noticing this revelation, but not remarking upon it, I picked up a billet of wood and laid it across the top of the little work, between my man and the negro, saying, If that negro steps across that piece of wood, shoot him; and if he steps off the line, on either side, shoot him.
This broke up the little scheme.
The negroes retired beyond the intersection of the lines and I never saw one of them pass it again.
During the seven months from September, 1864, to March, 1865, inclusive, no intelligent man could fail to note the trend and progress of events.
The defeat of Hood, the fall of Atlanta, the unfortunate expedition into Tennessee, the march of Sherman southward through Georgia to the ocean, his march northward through the Carolinas to Goldsboro, the fall of Savannah, of Charleston, of Wilmington-all these and other defeats, losses, and calamities had left to the Confederacy little save its Capital and the narrow strips of country bordering on the th