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New England (United States) (search for this): chapter 63
, so long as interest demands. On both sides of the fence, he says that's the way to catch the fox. Beyond this point it is not possible to pass, but further back to the left of Munson's Hill, there is still something worthy of examination. The Mason's Hill works on the Columbia turnpike, are odder specimens of Southern engineering than any of the rest. They surround Murray Mason's house--one of those fine old Virginia mansions of which the Old Dominion is vastly proud, one fine young New England mansion being, as everybody knows, worth a dozen of the best of them. The works are literally not more than two feet high at the most important points. They extend for altogether about one hundred yards, being terminated by a dozen rods of rifle-pits precisely ten inches above the level sod. I do not exaggerate the ridiculousness of these defences one particle. And it is not possible to suppose that, as many would wish to suppose, these works are mere shams and deceptions, never intend
Fall's Church (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 63
ite impenetrable from the blinding smoke. But a little labor saves this house for the time, although it does not seem likely long to escape. It is a shameful fact that, on Sunday afternoon, at least a score of houses in the neighborhood of Falls Church were wantonly destroyed by wandering mischief-doers from our camps. The whole air was red and black, by turns, with their flame and. smoke. Many residences of sound Union citizens were sacrificed with the rest. Through little by-lanes, the the object in setting fire to these buildings. Even under the very eyes and nose of authority, within twenty rods of the earthwork at Munson's Hill, the destruction was carried on, without any apparent objection. Our forces extend through Falls Church, beyond which no attempt to advance has been made. The old toll-gate keeper is still at his post, at the entrance of the village. He acknowledges that since Bull Run he has been a good secessionist, and that he now proposes to be a sound Uni
Bull Run, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 63
urally retains touching remembrances of the locality. Just beyond is the old camping ground of Captain Harrison and Lieutenant Tompkins, famed leaders of cavalry charges, and the abiding place of Captain Varian's battery, which did not fight at Bull Run. But there is here an excitement more immediate than even these lively remembrances. A turn in the road reveals the once welcome house of Webster, the wholesale entertainer of Union regiments, the hearty loyalist in the midst of the perilous c carried on, without any apparent objection. Our forces extend through Falls Church, beyond which no attempt to advance has been made. The old toll-gate keeper is still at his post, at the entrance of the village. He acknowledges that since Bull Run he has been a good secessionist, and that he now proposes to be a sound Unionist, so long as interest demands. On both sides of the fence, he says that's the way to catch the fox. Beyond this point it is not possible to pass, but further back
Munson (search for this): chapter 63
al offensive odors of a rebel Virginia camp were heightened in this case by the stench from a dead and decaying horse, which the rebels apparently had not energy enough to remove, but left to rot among them. Some six hundred yards to the rear of Munson's Hill, on the other side of the Leesburg turnpike, there is another elevation, undistinguished by a name, upon which the Virginians had erected another characteristic work. In appearance it was somewhat more imposing than the mud-mound on Munson's, having embrasures, and something like a ditch. A nearer approach, however, reduced its air of consequence. It was undoubtedly erected as a place of refuge, in case Munson's Hill should be stormed, to be held with artillery. It stands upon nearly a level with the other work, and is, consequently, not visible from any of our old positions. It is not an enclosure, although its present incompleteness may mislead one as to what its ultimate aspect might have been. Three sides are finished
Doc (search for this): chapter 63
Doc. 61. evacuation of Munson's Hill, Va. A correspondent of the New York Tribune, writes, September 29th, the following account of the appearance of the rebel lines after the evacuation: I rode over this morning directly to Munson's Hill, from the recent post of observation, Bailey's Cross Roads. The appearance of the surrounding country had vastly changed since my last previous visit, only twenty-four hours earlier. Then the fields were, to all appearance, clear of human presence, and the only tokens of life were given by the sharp ringing of the rifle-bullets here and there — oftener tokens of death. The pickets held their lines, and our two little companies of infantry were grouped about the sheltered portions of the Cross Roads. There was not a sign of any sudden change. Toward afternoon, I am informed, the rebel pickets were seen retiring. Their flag tumbled from the perch, and even the slight activity which the Virginia regiments had been accustomed to show was to
Virginians (search for this): chapter 63
eads, rather than their elastic veracity. Certainly, the Fifth Michigan, Colonel Terry, hold the Hill now, and I make no doubt that they first seized it. They, together with the New York Thirty-fifth, have been kept alert since the occupation, lest some adroit effort at resumption should be attempted by the enemy. At the time I passed up the hill, the road was filled with troops passing and repassing, and with curious visitors, seeking for stray tokens of the absent, but not forgotten, Virginians. The little valley which separated the lines of the pickets was undergoing rigid exploration for bullets. The line of the rebel pickets appeared to be less attractive, but it was assuredly interesting to observe with what a cautious instinct of self-preservation those fellows had constructed their little huts of shelter. The number of logs that any bullet would have had to pierce, not to speak of the number of corners it must have turned before reaching them, ought to have made them per
Willey (search for this): chapter 63
is at the point of destruction. Some reckless and wicked stragglers from our troops have penetrated every dwelling place they could find unoccupied, and set fire to each one. Even Webster's has not escaped. Smoke and flame are pouring out of every door and window. We must make at least an effort to save it. My companion runs into the first floor, and sweeps out piles of blazing straw. Only one room has been seriously damaged; the others are merely scorched and stained with smoke. Chaplain Willey of the Third Connecticut regiment would not recognize his old comfortable chamber, and my own is quite impenetrable from the blinding smoke. But a little labor saves this house for the time, although it does not seem likely long to escape. It is a shameful fact that, on Sunday afternoon, at least a score of houses in the neighborhood of Falls Church were wantonly destroyed by wandering mischief-doers from our camps. The whole air was red and black, by turns, with their flame and. s
Francis Tyler (search for this): chapter 63
yard, finally mingles with the ordinary dirt of the road. The only agreeable object connected with the affair is the newly-raised flag of the Union, which flaps salutations to its neighbor over upon Munson's Hill all the day long. A short distance beyond this second intrenchment (I use the word intrenchment, fortification, &c., in a merely technical sense, and not because the rebel defences merit any such serious designation) are the cross-roads where the Connecticut regiments under General Tyler were formerly encamped. It is pleasant to recognize so familiar a place after having so long been impeded in the approach to it. Your correspondent was once taken into custody here by the Connecticut men, after a long ride near the Confederate lines, upon suspicion of being a rebel spy, so he naturally retains touching remembrances of the locality. Just beyond is the old camping ground of Captain Harrison and Lieutenant Tompkins, famed leaders of cavalry charges, and the abiding place
Tompkins (search for this): chapter 63
n) are the cross-roads where the Connecticut regiments under General Tyler were formerly encamped. It is pleasant to recognize so familiar a place after having so long been impeded in the approach to it. Your correspondent was once taken into custody here by the Connecticut men, after a long ride near the Confederate lines, upon suspicion of being a rebel spy, so he naturally retains touching remembrances of the locality. Just beyond is the old camping ground of Captain Harrison and Lieutenant Tompkins, famed leaders of cavalry charges, and the abiding place of Captain Varian's battery, which did not fight at Bull Run. But there is here an excitement more immediate than even these lively remembrances. A turn in the road reveals the once welcome house of Webster, the wholesale entertainer of Union regiments, the hearty loyalist in the midst of the perilous contaminations which surrounded him. Webster's house was, eight weeks ago, the surest haven for traveller or soldier, and now i
James M. Mason (search for this): chapter 63
inches above the level sod. I do not exaggerate the ridiculousness of these defences one particle. And it is not possible to suppose that, as many would wish to suppose, these works are mere shams and deceptions, never intended for use. Here at Mason's there are pits within pits, and a series of interior works all of Liliputian dimensions, but all erected with a view to strategic retreats and gradual withdrawals. If nothing more than a delusion were projected, this sort of thing would not ha done, since the interior works are invisible from the outside. But no words can explain the utter absurdity of these long-talked — of fortifications as they now appear, without plan and entirely void. There are miserable remains of a camp at Mason's — a few boards, great piles of straw, and a hideous stencil, the traces which always mark a deserted Virginian position. The huts have been set on fire, and were burning all Sunday, but Mason's house is yet untouched. The Columbia turnpike
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