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 Bringing Together
Data, Semantics, and Software

first edition

Ted Hills
Published by:

2 Lindsley Road
Basking Ridge, NJ 07920 USA
https://www.TechnicsPub.com
Cover design by John Fiorentino
Technical reviews by Laurel Shifrin, Dave Wells, and Steve Hoberman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written
permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
The author and publisher have taken care in the preparation of this book, but make no expressed or implied warranty of
any kind and assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for incidental or consequential
damages in connection with or arising out of the use of the information or programs contained herein.
All trade and product names are trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective companies, and
are the property of their respective holders and should be treated as such.
Copyright © 2016 by Theodore S. Hills, [email protected]
ISBN, print ed. 9781634621090
ISBN, Kindle ed. 9781634621106
ISBN, ePub ed. 9781634621113
ISBN, PDF ed. 9781634621120
First Printing 2016
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016930173
To my wife Daphne Woods, who
has always believed in me, and
gave me the space and support
I needed to write this book.
 Contents at a Glance

Part I: Real Words in the Real World

Chapter 1: It’s All about the Words
Chapter 2: Things: Entities, Objects, and Concepts
Chapter 3: Containment and Composition
Chapter 4: Types and Classes in the Real World

Part II: The Tyranny of Confusion

Chapter 5: Entity-Relationship Modeling
Chapter 6: The Unified Modeling Language
Chapter 7: Fact-Based Modeling Notations
Chapter 8: Semantic Notations
Chapter 9: Object-Oriented Programming Languages

Part III: Freedom in Meaning

Chapter 10: Objects and Classes
Chapter 11: Types in Data and Software
Chapter 12: Composite Types
Chapter 13: Subtypes and Subclasses
Chapter 14: Data and Information
Chapter 15: Relationships and Roles
Chapter 16: The Relational Theory of Data
Chapter 17: NoSQL and SQL Physical Design
Part IV: Case Study
Chapter 18: The Common Coffee Shop

APPENDIX: COMN Quick Reference

 Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Introduction
Taking Care of Data
Plant Change Control 2.0
Where did the Savings Come From?
Why Model?
Why COMN?
Book Outline
Book Audience
NoSQL Database Developer
SQL Database Developer
Data Modeler
Software Developer
Ontologist

Part I Real Words in the Real World

Chapter 1 It’s All about the Words
References
Chapter 2 Things: Entities, Objects, and Concepts
Chapter Glossary
Chapter 3 Containment and Composition
Containment
Composition
Chapter Glossary
Chapter 4 Types and Classes in the Real World
Collections of Objects
Sets of Concepts
Sets of Objects
Types and Classes
 Types Designate Sets
Classes Describe Objects
Three Aspects of Types and Classes

Chapter Glossary
Part II The Tyranny of Confusion
Chapter 5 Entity-Relationship Modeling
Logical E-R Data Models
Multiple Levels of Abstraction
Limitations of E-R Modeling Notation
NoSQL Arrays and Nested Data Structures
Lack of Reusable Composite Types
Lack of Place
Modeling the Real World
Representing Individual Entities
Mapping Between Models
Data in Software

Terminology
Entity
Conceptual
E-R Terms Mapped to COMN Terms

References
Chapter 6 The Unified Modeling Language
Class Diagrams
Stereotyping

Limitations of the UML

Lack of Keys
Middling Level of Abstraction
Lack of Concept
Subclassing versus Subtyping

Terminology
Relationship, Composition and Aggregation
Type and Implementation Class
UML Terms Mapped to COMN Terms

References
Chapter 7 Fact-Based Modeling Notations
Facts and Relationships
 Limitations of Fact-Based Modeling
Lack of Instances
Incompleteness
Difficulty

Terminology
Fact-Based Modeling Terms Mapped to COMN Terms

References
Chapter 8 Semantic Notations
Predicates and RDF Statements
Doubles and Quadruples

OWL
Graphical Notations for Semantics
Terminology
Chapter 9 Object-Oriented Programming Languages
Classes, Objects, Types, and Variables
Terminology
Part III Freedom in Meaning
Chapter 10 Objects and Classes
Material Objects
Objects with States
Meaning of States
Objects with More States
Methods
Material Objects in Computers
Summary

Computer Object Defined

Composing Objects

Summary
Chapter Glossary
Chapter 11 Types in Data and Software
Types in Programming and Databases
What Does a Type Tell Us?

Classes in Object-Oriented Software

Separating Type and Class
 Simple Types
References
Chapter Glossary
Chapter 12 Composite Types
Composite Types as Logical Record Types
Types Representing Things in the Real World: Identification
Stepwise Refinement and Completeness

Types Representing Other Types

Measures as Composite Types
Nested Types
Modeling Documents
Arrays
Chapter Glossary
References
Chapter 13 Subtypes and Subclasses
Subtypes
Restriction is Subtyping

Subclasses
Subtypes and Extensions: Perfect Together
Inheritance
Using Subtype Variables and Values
Using Extending Types and Classes

Projection: The Inverse of Extension

Chapter Glossary
Chapter 14 Data and Information
Information
Is Information Always True?

From Information to Data

Data en Masse
Variable Names
Summary

Information and Data as Colloquialisms

Information En Masse
 It’s Just Data
Putting It All Together
“Unstructured Data” and “Semi-Structured Data”

Data Object
Chapter Glossary
Chapter 15 Relationships and Roles
Arrivals and Departures
Labeling Relationship Lines
Cleaning Up the Model

Roles, Predicates, and Relationships

Chapter Glossary
Chapter 16 The Relational Theory of Data
What is a Relation?
The Order of Rows
The Uniqueness of Rows
The Significance of Columns
Summary

Technical Relational Terminology

Tuple and Relation Schemes
Giving Data to the System
Data Attribute Versus Attribute
Relational Terminology Reprise

Composite Data Attributes

Relational Operations
NoSQL Versus the Relational Model
SQL Versus the Relational Model
Terminology
Chapter Glossary
Chapter 17 NoSQL and SQL Physical Design
What’s Different about NoSQL?
Database Performance
ACID versus BASE and Scalability
ACID
BASE and CAP
 NoSQL and SQL Data Organization
Key/Value DBMS
Graph DBMS
Document DBMS
Columnar DBMS
Tabular DBMS

Summary
References
Part IV Case Study
Chapter 18 The Common Coffee Shop
Analysis: Documenting Real-World Entities
Logical Data Modeling: Designing the Data
Physical Data Modeling: Designing the Implementation
APPENDIX COMN Quick Reference
Glossary
Photo and Illustration Credits
Index
 Acknowledgements
I am very grateful to Tony Shaw of Dataversity for giving me the opportunity to present
this new modeling notation to a wider audience, first at the NoSQL Now! conference in
San Jose in 2015, and then at the Enterprise Data World conference in San Diego in 2016.
Daniel Upton attended my workshop at the NoSQL Now! conference, and introduced me
to Steve Hoberman, data modeling enthusiast, leading author, and publisher. I met with
Steve to talk about my ideas. Steve accepted my proposal for this book, and that is how it
came into being.
The fundamental ideas behind concept and object modeling notation arose from my work
on object-oriented programming language design, and from tackling the difficult problem
of integrating objects and data. In the latter effort, I was helped tremendously by the many
writings of C. J. Date, most especially Foundations for Future Database Systems: The
Third Manifesto, Second Edition (by C. J. Date and Hugh Darwen). I had the opportunity
to correspond with and speak to Mr. Date about this topic, and this finally enabled me to
perceive the difference between data and objects. Mr. Date is not aware of the debt I owe
him for the clarity of his thinking on all things relational. One should not read this
acknowledgement as his endorsement of my ideas.
I have had the opportunity to discuss the Concept and Object Modeling Notation
(COMN), and the ideas behind it, with colleagues at LexisNexis, most notably Roger
Cass, Matthew Johnson, Michael Khatib, and Paul Rogers. They gave me the opportunity
to test my ideas and my expression of them. Roger has the additional distinctions of
having introduced me to Object Role Modeling, and of having put the “N” in COMN so
that the acronym became pronounceable as “common”. My immediate manager and
longtime friend Greg Saxton and our chief architect Ian Koenig encouraged me to pursue
this work.
My wife Daphne Woods, a brilliant novelist, long ago trained this technologist in the
mysteries of English grammar and composition. She also trained our daughter Heather
through ten years of home schooling to near perfection in these fields. Consulting with
these two during the writing of this book helped me with clarity and structure.
It was wonderful to have my colleague Laurel Shifrin, respected educator Dave Wells, and
Steve Hoberman as technical reviewers. Laurel’s knowledge of unstructured data and
Dave’s knowledge of structured data helped keep some unsupported assumptions out of
the work. Dave’s early enthusiasm for COMN has been a tremendous boost. What a
pleasure to have Steve, a leading author of data modeling books and my publisher,
encouraging and promoting this work.
Here’s to all who have struggled to tame their data. I hope you find this makes the journey
more pleasurable and more successful.
 Introduction
S am came barreling into the plant manager’s office, clutching a roll of blueprints in one
hand. He was so excited. “Joe, have I got great news!” he called out.
Joe looked up from his desk behind the office counter. He looked weary. Well, keeping
track of everything that goes on in a 150-acre refinery that processes 200,000 barrels of oil
a day could make anyone weary. He pushed back his chair, got up, and ambled over to the
counter.
“What’s the news?” Joe asked.
“The boys in engineering have figured out that, by just combining a few material flows
earlier in the process, the petrochemical plant could reduce emissions, produce more
product from the same input flows, and add $5,000 a day to the plant’s bottom line in
reduced expenses! So I’ve come down here to find out what it will take to implement
these changes.” Joe placed the rolled-up blueprints on the counter and spread them out.
Sam started studying the drawings, running his finger over the many lines and shapes that
represented the thousands of pipes visible out the office windows. He licked his finger and
pulled the top drawing back to look at the next blueprint, and then the next, all while Joe
watched excitedly but silently. Sam had a reputation. He knew his stuff. If Sam said it
could be done, it could be done, and if he said it couldn’t, well, you’d better do a ton of
research before you said Sam was wrong.
Finally Sam looked up from the counter. “I think I get it. This isn’t too bad. We’ll just
have to re-route a few pipes and this could be implemented pretty easily.”
Joe was happy and relieved. “So, how long do you think it will take?”
Sam kept his look level when he delivered the blow. “I think about six months.”
“Six months!” Joe nearly shouted. “I thought you said this was easy! Why, in six months
we will have lost”—Joe figured fast in his head—“nearly a million dollars in savings!”
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 CHAPTER XV
GUARDING THE BLACKWATER

General Pryor's brigade had been composed of regiments from

Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, North Carolina, and Virginia. Congress
having recommended that regiments should be enlisted under
officers from their own states,—in order to remedy, if possible, the
disinclination to reënlist for the war,—there was a general upheaval
and change throughout the entire army during the autumn of 1862.
On the 10th of November General Pryor was ordered to report for
duty to Major-General G. W. Smith, commanding at Richmond,
Virginia, the Second, Fifth, and Eighth Florida Regiments of his
brigade being assigned to a Florida brigadier, the Fourteenth
Alabama and the Fifth North Carolina to officers from their
respective states.

On November 2 General Longstreet had written to General

Pryor: "I understand that General Perry will have the Florida
regiments. Please make some suggestion as to what arrangement
we may be able to make for you."

Accordingly my husband consulted General Lee, and received the

following letter from him, dated November 25, 1862:—

"General: Your letter of the 23d inst. has just been received.
I regret my inability to detach from this army the two regiments
 to operate on the Blackwater. As far as I am able to judge,
troops are more wanted here than there, and it might be better
to bring the troops which it is contemplated to unite with those
in question to this army. I regretted at the time the breaking up
of your former brigade, but you are aware that the
circumstances which produced it were beyond my control. I
hope it will not be long before you will be again in the field, that
the country may derive the benefit of your zeal and activity."

On November 29, General Pryor was ordered by General G. W.

Smith to report to Major-General French, and was personally
introduced to the latter by the following letter:—
"Richmond, November 29, 1862.

"My dear General: This will be handed you by my friend,

Brigadier-General Pryor. General Pryor's brigade in General Lee's
army was recently broken up in rearranging the brigades by
states. It is intended by the government that he shall have a
Virginia brigade as soon as one can be formed for him. In the
meanwhile, it is General Lee's desire that General Pryor shall
serve upon the Blackwater—his own section of the country—and
he directs that the two regiments of cavalry on the Blackwater
be placed under his command, etc....

"General Pryor has already won for himself the reputation of

being one of the best, most daring, and energetic officers in the
army, highly distinguished in civil life, and one of the most
influential men in the state, especially in his own section. He will
coöperate with you thoroughly, and I am sure will render good
service to the cause and be of great assistance to yourself.

"I am satisfied, from what General Lee writes me, that at

present we can have no troops from his army. The impression
is, that a great battle is impending in the vicinity of
 Fredericksburg. We must keep our house in order, and make the
most of the means we have and can procure from other sources
than General Lee's army.

"Very truly yours,

"G. W. Smith, Major-General."

A rule enforced for the common good often falls heavily upon
individuals. General Pryor grieved to lose his men, and they united in
many petitions to be allowed to remain with him. He undertook the
protection of the Blackwater region with an inadequate force, in the
certain expectation that reënforcements would be sent to him.

The enemy destined to conquer us at last—the "ravenous,

hunger-starved wolf"—already menaced us. General Longstreet had
learned that corn and bacon were stored in the northeastern
counties of North Carolina, and he had sent two companies of
cavalry on a foraging expedition, to the region around Suffolk.

"The Confederate lines," says a historian, "extended only to the

Blackwater River on the east, where a body of Confederate troops
was stationed to keep the enemy in check." That body was
commanded by General Pryor, now in front of a large Federal force,
to keep it in check while the wagon-trains sent off corn and bacon
for Lee's army. This was accomplished by sleepless vigilance on the
part of the Confederate General. The Federal forces made frequent
sallies from Suffolk, but were always driven back with heavy loss. It
is amusing to read of the calmness with which his commanding
officers ordered him to accomplish great things with his small force.

"I cannot," says General Colston, "forward your requisition for

two regiments of infantry and one of cavalry: it is almost useless to
make such requisitions, for they remain unanswered. You must use
every possible means to deceive the enemy as to your strength, and
you must hold the line of the Blackwater to the last extremity."
 General French writes: "If I had any way to increase your forces,
I should do so, but I have to bow to higher authority and the
necessities of the service. But you must annoy the villains all you
can, and make them uncomfortable. Give them no rest. Ambush
them at every turn."

General Pryor did not dream I would come to his camp at

Blackwater. He supposed I would find quarters among my friends at
home, but I had now no home. Our venerable father had sent his
family to the interior after the battles around Richmond; had given
up his church in Petersburg, and, commending the women, old men,
and children to the care of a successor, had entered the army as
chaplain, "where," as he said, "I can follow my own church members
and comfort them in sickness, if I can do no more."

As soon as the position of our brigade was made known to me, I

drew forth the box containing the camp outfit, packed a trunk or
two, and took the cars for the Blackwater. The terminus of the
railroad was only a few miles from our camp. The Confederate train
could go no farther because of the enemy. The day's journey was
long, for the passenger car attached to the transportation train was
dependent upon the movements of the latter. The few passengers
who had set forth with me in the morning had left at various
wayside stations, and I was now alone. I had no idea where we
should sleep that night. I thought I would manage it somehow—
somewhere.

We arrived at twilight at the end of our journey. When I left the

car my little boys gathered around me. There was a small wooden
building near, which served for waiting-room and post-office. The
only dwelling in sight was another small house, surrounded by a few
bare trees. My first impression was that I had never before seen
such an expanse of gray sky. The face of the earth was a dead, bare
level, as far as the eye could reach; and much, very much of it lay
under water. I was in the region of swamps, stretching on and on
until they culminated in the one great "Dismal Swamp" of the
country. No sounds were to be heard, no hum of industry or lowing
of cattle, but a mighty concert rose from thousands, nay, millions, of
frogs.

"Now," thought I, "here is really a fine opportunity to be 'jolly'!

Mark Tapley's swamps couldn't surpass these." But all the railroad
folk were departing, and the postmaster was preparing to lock his
door and leave also. I liked the looks of the little man, and ventured:
—

"Can you tell me, sir, where I can get lodging to-night? I am the
General's wife—Mrs. Pryor—and to-morrow he will take care of me. I
know he has no place for us in camp."

The little man considered, and looked us over—a lady, three little
boys, trunks, and a box.

"I can take thee in myself," he said. "I am just going home."

"Oh, thank you, thank you. I shall need only the smallest trunk
to-night."

"I'm afraid I can hardly make thee comfortable, as I live alone,

but thee is welcome."

"Thee"! Oh, joy! I thought. This is a blessed little Quaker! We'll

not part again! Here I rest. We soon reached his door, and he called
out for "Charity!"

The call was answered in person by a black girl in a short linsey-

woolsey frock which revealed her ankles and bare feet, her hair tied
in innumerable little tails, sticking all over her head like a porcupine's
quills. She was the most alert little creature I ever saw, nimble-
footed and quick. "Charity," said my host, "have a good fire made
upstairs in the front room at once. Thee is welcome," he repeated,
turning to me, and I followed the sable maiden up the stair.

"And so your name is Charity?"

"Charity's meh name an' Charity's meh naycher," she informed

me. She soon brought in Dick with an armful of wood, and a fine,
welcome fire cheered us.

"You needn' be lookin' at de baid," said Charity. "I'll soon sheet

it. He's got sto's o' quilts, but I dunno as he'll s'render 'em."

It appeared that he would. He brought them, an armful, himself,

and the bright patchwork on our two beds looked very inviting.

Charity leaned against the mantel, regarding me with leisurely

scrutiny, her bare feet crossed one over the other. I felt it to be the
part of prudence to placate her.

"We'll unlock the trunk," I said,—Dick had already fetched it,

—"and I'll find a pretty ribbon for you."

"I knowed," said the girl, "you was some punkins soon's I sot
eyes on you." Before I was summoned to the supper of biscuit, fried
bacon, and coffee without cream, Charity had enlightened me about
her employer; she made haste to tell me he was not her master.
"I'se free, I is! Mo'n dat, he's a Quaker, an' ef you ever seen
Quakers, you knows dey don' like no slaves 'roun'. Yas'm, I'se free—
an' Dick, he's a po'-white boy. Me'n him does all de wuk cep'n in
hawg-killin' time, an' den de fokes comes fum de quarters to he'p."

"Are you lonesome?" I asked, making conversation.

"Dat I is. You see he los' his wife two mont' ago. Dese here
quilts is hern. She made 'em."

"Dear me," I said, "I'm so sorry!"

 But Charity had broken down and was sobbing with her head
against the mantel.

"Yas'm! I cert'nly is lonesum! She jes up an' die, an', an' de po'
little baby daid too."

As I lay in bed I thought of the dear dead woman. I resolved to

be nothing but a comfort to Charity and that little Quaker. I made
plans for the happiness of both. With my heart full of sympathy, full
of gratitude, full of hope, I slept sweetly and long.

In the morning a message sent from the post-office through an

inquirer from the camp brought me my General; brought, too, an
invitation from my host to make this house his headquarters, and
during the day he moved over bag and baggage. A cook was
detailed from the camp, we were to furnish our own table; and our
kind host looked so deeply wounded when we offered rent for our
lodgings, that no more was said on that subject. I had brought
nothing with me except the plain contents of my camp chest. The
thick white china of the table was unattractive, and I consulted
Charity about the possibility of buying something better. Our only
market-town, Suffolk, was in the hands of the enemy.

"He's got painted cups an' saucers, but I dunno's he'll s'render
'em," said Charity.

"Suppose you ask him!"

"I dun try 'im once. I ax 'im dat time when his mother-in-law
cum to see 'im—an' he nuvver say nuthin! Den I let 'im rip!"

But after a few days "he" threw in my lap a bunch of keys,

saying simply, "Everything in the house and on the plantation
belongs to thee." Some of them were enormous, like the key of the
Bastile, and all were rusted. I selected a small one, returning the
rest, and in Charity's presence unlocked the old mahogany sideboard
and counted to her the cups, saucers, and plates, gilt-edged, and
decorated with a rosebud here and there.

"Good Gawd!" said Charity. "I nuvver thought he'd s'render the
chany cups!"

"Not one is to be broken," I said, sternly. "If you break one, tell
me at once and bring me the pieces, so I can send to Richmond and
replace it."

I saw but little of my kind host. He lived at the post-office,

remaining late every night to open the mail and have it ready for an
early morning delivery to the camp, and returning home at twelve
o'clock to sleep. Every night thereafter he found a bright fire, a
clean-swept hearth, and on plates before the fire, biscuits, sausage
or broiled ham, and a little pot of coffee. A table—with a lamp and
the latest papers—was drawn up beside his arm-chair.

A few months after I left his house for Petersburg I received the
following letter from him:—

"Respected Friend: I have now married. I couldn't stand it.

"Thy friend,
"I. P."

Since then I have always counselled, as cure for an incorrigible

bachelor, simply to take care of him beautifully for three months and
then—leave him!
 HON. ROGER A. PRYOR.
From a photograph, about 1870.

But to return: Charity's example was contagious. "I cert'nly was

lonesum" on the Blackwater. The General and his staff were forever
in the saddle. When he returned after his skirmishes and exploring
expeditions, he was too tired to amuse me. I busied myself teaching
the little boys and dispensing the provisions our men brought me.
Bacon and biscuit, without butter, fruit, or milk, was deadly diet for
me, so I was allowed an occasional courier from the camp to take
my money and scour the country for better fare. When he appeared,
galloping down the lane, on his return, he looked like some
extraordinary feathered creature with a horse's head, so completely
were both covered with turkeys, ducks, geese, and chickens. Then
would ensue a gift to the camp hospital of soups and stews and a
fine supper for my General's staff, Major Shepard, Captain Whitner,
Major Keiley, and Captain McCann, with as many choice spirits from
the officers as we could entertain. Then was brewed, by the majors
and captains aforesaid, a mighty bowl of egg-nog, sweet and very
stiff, for there was no milk to temper its strength. I feared at first
that my Quaker host might disapprove, but I never failed to find the
foaming glass I placed beside his night lamp quite empty next
morning.

I could manage to occupy myself during the day. I could make a

study of Charity, in whom I soon perceived quite an interesting
character, quick to learn, responsive, and most affectionate. She was
literally my only female companion. I had no neighbors, nowhere to
drive (the enemy was only fifteen miles off) except on the watery
lanes, nothing to meet when driving except, perhaps, a slow-moving
cart drawn by steeds like Sydney Smith's "Tug-and-Lug, Haul-and-
Crawl," driven by a negro boy, who stood with feet planted on the
shafts and who entertained his patient, long-suffering oxen by telling
them of the torments awaiting them unless they would "go along."
But the long and lonely evenings were hard to bear, when the
general and his staff were abroad, roaming like watch-dogs around
the frontier, deluding the enemy by a great show of bravado here
and there. Nothing like the orchestra of frogs can be imagined. They
serenaded the moon all night long; a magnificent diapason of mighty
voices, high soprano, full baritone, and heavy bass. I could
understand the desperate need of the lone woman who had once
lived here. The patchwork quilts were eloquent witnesses.
 As the time dragged on in this lonely place, I began to find that I
wanted many articles classed in a woman's mind generally as
"things."

There is not a more generous word in the English language than

"things." It may mean, according to Stormonth, "A Swedish assize of
justice, a Norwegian parliament, a meeting for palaver on public
affairs, luggage, or clothes,"—which proves how important is the
making of new dictionaries as we travel along toward our highest
civilization. For instance: when you say to your butler, "Be careful
with the breakfast things," he understands you perfectly. He knows
you mean the egg-shell cups, and blossomy plates. When you bid
your maid bring your "things," she appears with your hat, gloves,
cloak, and furs. "Her rooms are comfortable, but I don't like her
things," you say when the bric-à-brac and curios are not to your
taste. "I never speak of such things," you declare in haughty
superiority when some guest has filled an hour with foolish or
injurious gossip. "Such things are beneath contempt," says the
lawyer of certain practices familiar in the courts. And then we have
"poor thing,"—not the traditional robin who "hides his head under
his wing, poor thing," but some fine lady, far from young and—
unmarried! And "a poor thing, sir, but mine own,"—this time not a
fine lady by any means, only "an ill-favored virgin."

And then, having vexed our souls all the week over mundane
"things," we are given, on Sunday, glimpses of another world quite
as full of them.

"Wean yourselves from earthly idols and fix your hearts on

heavenly things," says the bishop. Things! Heavenly things! Stars,
harps, crowns of righteousness, high and lofty aspirations!

Not long after the battle of Fredericksburg a participator

described the panic, the horror, the fleeing of the women and
children from their homes. "And then," he said, "there arose from
that homeless, stricken crowd of women a cry of mortal agony, 'My
things! Oh, my things!'"
"Things" to me meant only needful garments. I could starve with
perfect serenity. I could live without the latest novel, the late
magazines, egg-shell china, rich attire, jewels; but I had not had a
new bonnet for three years. Shoes, and above all shoestrings, were
needed by my little boys, needles, tapes, sewing thread and sewing
silk, stays and staylaces, gloves, combs. Of course I needed
garments of muslin and linen. Had I not rolled bandages of mine? I
needed gowns. A calico dress now cost $40. But these large "things"
were quite beyond all hope on the Blackwater. Smaller articles I
might, perhaps, compass. The General's orders, however, strictly
forbade the purchase by private individuals of articles smuggled
through the lines. He once confiscated a sloop on the Blackwater
laden with women's shoes, slippers, and Congress gaiters! He would
not allow me a shoe; all were sent to Richmond to be sold for the
benefit of the government. Communication with the enemy must be
discouraged lest he discover our weakness.

I knew that most of the tight little carts peddling fish, potatoes,
and eggs had double bottoms between which were all sorts of
delightful things, but I never dared approach the pedler on the
subject; and as I was the commanding officer's wife, he dared not
approach me.

One day I was in an ambulance, driving on one of the

interminable lanes of the region, the only incident being the watery
crossing over the "cosin," as the driver called the swamps that had
been "Poquosin" in the Indian tongue. Behind me came a jolting
two-wheeled cart, drawn by a mule and driven by a small negro boy,
who stood in front with a foot planted firmly upon each of the
shafts. Within, and completely filling the vehicle, which was nothing
more than a box on wheels, sat a dignified-looking woman. The
dame of the ambulance at once became fascinated by a small basket
of sweet potatoes which the dame of the cart carried in her lap.

With a view to acquiring these treasures I essayed a tentative

conversation upon the weather, the prospects of a late spring, and
finally the scarcity of provisions and consequent suffering of the
soldiers.

After a keen glance of scrutiny the market woman exclaimed,

"Well, I am doing all I can for them! I know you won't speak of it!
Look here!"

Lifting the edge of her hooped petticoat, she revealed a roll of

army cloth, several pairs of cavalry boots, a roll of crimson flannel,
packages of gilt braid and sewing silk, cans of preserved meats, a
bag of coffee! She was on her way to our own camp, right under the
General's nose! Of course I should not betray her—I promised. I did
more. Before we parted she had drawn forth a little memorandum
book and had taken a list of my own necessities. She did not "run
the blockade" herself. She had an agent—"a dear, good Suffolk
man"—who would fill my order on his next trip.

It isn't worth while to tell men everything. They are not

supposed to be interested in the needle-and-thread ways of women!

About three weeks after my interview with the blockade-runner,

I was driving again in the ambulance. Suddenly Captain Whitner,
who had galloped to overtake me, wheeled in front of the horses
and stopped them.

"Good morning, Captain! Any news at camp I am permitted to

learn?"

I perceived the corners of his mouth twitching, but he said

gravely:—
 "I am commissioned to tell you that you must consider yourself
under arrest. I am sent to discharge this painful duty and conduct
you to camp."

"By whose order, pray?"

"Official orders from headquarters," and he presented a paper.

I knew he must be acting a part for his own amusement, and I

asked no questions. I would not gratify him by seeming to be
alarmed.

When I arrived at my husband's tent, I found him with Major

Shepard, and a wretched-looking countryman standing near them. I
comprehended the situation at a glance and resolved to play my
part.

"This prisoner," said the General, "has been arrested for bringing
in contraband goods in violation of express orders. He pleads that
the goods were ordered by the General's wife for the use of the
General's family. Have you anything to say to show cause why he
should not be punished?"

"May it please the court," I said, turning to Major Shepard and

Captain Whitner, "I call you to witness that I invited you last week to
partake of a bowl of egg-nog, telling you it was made of contraband
French brandy. When the commanding officer's attention was called
to the fact, he said he could do nothing; he was obliged to submit
because I was his superior officer, that I outranked him everywhere
except on the march and the battle-field."

A burst of laughter interrupted me. The chairman called for

order.

"I confess that I deputed this estimable gentleman to procure

some sewing silk for the mending of the garments of my subordinate
officer. I had hoped that through his valor the blockade would, ere
this, have been raised. Finding myself mistaken—"

"The prisoner is discharged," said the General,—I uttered an

exclamation of triumph,—"but," he added, "the goods are
confiscated for the benefit of the Confederate government, and are
already on the way to Richmond."

I was very sorry for the fright the poor man had suffered for my
sake. I took him home with me beside the driver on the ambulance.
Of course I paid him. I had one piece of family silver with me for
which I had no use on the Blackwater,—a butter knife—and I gave it
to him as a souvenir of his happy escape from danger.

How did I manage without my needles and thread?

Charity came to me early one morning with a brown paper

parcel in her arms.

"Dat ole creeter," said Charity, "what come home wid you las'
week, knock at de kitchen do' fo' day dis mornin'. He gimme dis, an'
say you bleeged to git it fo' de Gen'al wake up; an'—an'—he say—
but Lawd! 'tain' wuf while to tell you what he say! But he do say to
tell you to gimme sumpin out'n de bundle. Gawd knows I ain' no
cravin' po'-white-folks' nigger, but dat what he say."

I need not give an inventory of the contents of the bundle. They

were perfectly satisfactory to me—and to Charity.

We had slender mails on the Blackwater, few papers, no books.

Occasionally a letter from Agnes gave me news of the outside world.
"Richmond, January 7, 1863.

"My Dearie: Have you no pen, ink, and paper on the

Blackwater—the very name of which suggests ink? I get no
news of you at all. How do you amuse yourself, and have you
anything to read? I am sending you to-day a copy of Victor
Hugo's last novel, "Les Misérables," reprinted by a Charleston
firm on the best paper they could get, poor fellows, pretty bad I
must acknowledge. You'll go wild over that book—I did—and
everybody does.

"Major Shepard must order some copies for the brigade. As

he has plenty of meat and bread now, he can afford it. I have
cried my eyes out over Fantine and Cosette and Jean Valjean.
The soldiers are all reading it. They calmly walk into the
bookstores, poor dear fellows, and ask for "Lee's Miserables
faintin'!"—the first volume being "Fantine." I've worlds of news
to tell you. Alice Gregory is engaged to Arthur Herbert, the
handsomest man I know. Alice is looking lovely and so happy.
Helen came to see me in Petersburg, and is all the time worried
about Ben. Did you know that Jim Field lost a leg at Malvern
Hills—or in the hospital afterwards? He was such a lovely fellow
—engaged to Sue Bland—I never saw a handsomer pair. Well,
Sue thinks as much as I do about good looks, and Jim wrote to
release her. She had a good cry, and finally came down to
Richmond, married him, and took him home to nurse him.

"Do you realize the fact that we shall soon be without a

stitch of clothes? There is not a bonnet for sale in Richmond.
Some of the girls smuggle them, which I for one consider in the
worst possible taste, to say the least. We have no right at this
time to dress better than our neighbors, and besides, the
soldiers need every cent of our money. Do you remember in
Washington my pearl-gray silk bonnet, trimmed inside with lilies
of the valley? I have ripped it up, washed and ironed it, dyed
the lilies blue (they are bluebells now), and it is very becoming.
All the girls intend to plait hats next summer when the wheat
ripens, for they have no blocks on which to press the coal-
scuttle bonnets, and after all when our blockade is raised we
may find they are not at all worn, while hats are hats and never
go out of fashion. The country girls made them last summer and
pressed the crowns over bowls and tin pails. I could make lovely
paper flowers if I had materials.

"It seems rather volatile to discuss such things while our

dear country is in such peril. Heaven knows I would costume
myself in coffee-bags if that would help, but having no coffee,
where could I get the bags? I'll e'en go afield next summer, and
while Boaz is at the front, Ruth will steal his sheaves for her
adornment.

"The papers announce that General French reports the

enemy forty-five thousand strong at Suffolk. How many men
has your General? Dear, dear!

"But we are fortifying around Richmond. While I write a

great crowd of negroes is passing through the streets, singing
as they march. They have been working on the fortifications
north of the city, and are now going to work on them south of
us. They don't seem to concern themselves much about Mr.
Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, and they seem to have no
desire to do any of the fighting.

"Your loving
"Agnes."

"P. S.—I attended Mrs. Davis's last reception. There was a

crowd, all in evening dress. You see, as we don't often wear our
evening gowns, they are still quite passable. I wore the gray silk
with eleven flounces which was made for Mrs. Douglas's last
reception, and by the bye, who do you think was at the battle of
Williamsburg, on General McClellan's staff? The Prince de
Joinville who drank the Rose wine with you at the Baron de
Limbourg's reception to the Japs. Doesn't it all seem so long ago
 —so far away? The Prince de Joinville escorted me to one of the
President's levees—don't you remember?—and now I attend
another President's levee and hear him calmly telling some
people that rats, if fat, are as good as squirrels, and that we can
never afford mule meat. It would be too expensive, but the time
may come when rats will be in demand.

"Dearly,
"Agnes."

The Emancipation Proclamation did not create a ripple of

excitement among the colored members of our households in
Virginia. Of its effect elsewhere I could not judge. As to fighting, our
own negroes never dreamed of such a thing. The colored troops of
the North were not inferior, we were told, in discipline and courage
to other soldiers; but the martial spirit among them had its
exceptions. A Northern writer has recorded an interview with a
negro who had run the blockade and entered the service of a
Federal officer. He was met on board a steamer, after the battle of
Fort Donelson, on his way to a new situation, and questioned in
regard to his experience of war.[17]

"Were you in the fight?"

"Had a little taste of it, sah."

"Stood your ground, of course."

"No, sah! I run."

"Not at the first fire?"

"Yes, sah, an' would a' run sooner ef I knowed it was a-comin'!"

"Why, that wasn't very creditable to your courage, was it?"

"Dat ain't in my line, sah—cookin's my perfeshun."

 "But have you no regard for your reputation?"

"Refutation's nothin' by de side o' life."

"But you don't consider your life worth more than other people's,
do you?"

"Hit's wuth mo' to me, sah."

"Then you must value it very highly."

"Yas, sah, I does,—mo'n all dis wuld! Mo' dan a million o' dollars,
sah. What would dat be wuth to a man wid de bref out o' 'im? Self-
perserbashun is de fust law wid me, sah!"

"But why should you act upon a different rule from other men?"

"'Cause diffunt man set diffunt value 'pon his life. Mine ain't in de
market."

"Well, if all soldiers were like you, traitors might have broken up
the government without resistance."

"Dat's so! Dar wouldn't 'a' been no hep fer it. But I don' put my
life in de scale against no gubberment on dis yearth. No gubberment
gwine pay me ef I loss messef."

"Well, do you think you would have been much missed if you
had been killed?"

"Maybe not, sah! A daid white man ain' much use to dese yere
sogers, let alone a daid niggah, but I'd 'a' missed mysef powerful,
an' dat's de pint wid me."

Towards the last of January we had a season of warm, humid

weather. Apparently the winter was over; the grass was springing on
the swamp, green and luxurious, and the willows swelling into bud.
There were no singing birds on the Blackwater as early as January
28, but the frogs were mightily exercised upon the coming of spring,
and their nightly concerts took on a jubilant note.

One day I had a few moments' conversation with my husband

about army affairs, and he remarked that our Southern soldiers were
always restless unless they were in action. "They never can stand
still in battle," he said; "they are willing to yell and charge the most
desperate positions, but if they can't move forward, they must move
backward. Stand still they cannot."

I thought I could perceive symptoms of restlessness on the part

of their commander. Often in the middle of the night he would
summon John, mount him, and send him to camp, a short distance
away; and presently I would hear the tramp, tramp of the General's
staff officers, coming to hold a council of war in his bedroom. On the
28th of January he confided to me that on the next day he would
make a sally in the direction of the enemy. "He is getting entirely too
impudent," said he; "I'm not strong enough to drive him out of the
country, but he must keep his place."

I had just received a present of coffee. This was at once roasted

and ground. On the day of the march, fires were kindled under the
great pots used at the "hog-killing time" (an era in the household)
and many gallons of coffee were prepared. This was sweetened, and
when our men paused near the house to form the line of march, the
servants and little boys passed down the line with buckets of the
steaming coffee, cups, dippers, and gourds. Every soldier had a
good draught of comfort and cheer. The weather had suddenly
changed. The great snow-storm that fell in a few days was
gathering, the skies were lowering, and the horizon was dark and
threatening.

After the men had marched away, I drove to the hospital tent
and put myself at the disposal of the surgeon. We inspected the
store of bandages and lint, and I was intrusted with the preparation
of more.

"I ain' got no use for dis stuff," said my one female friend and
companion, Charity, whom I pressed into service to help me pick
lint. "'Pears like 'tain't good for nuthin' but to line a bird's nes'."

"It will be soft for the wound of a soldier," I said, "after he has
fought the Yankees."

"I'll pick den; I'll tar up my onlies' apun ef he'll kill one."

"Oh, Charity!"

"Yas'm, I will dat! Huccome we all don' drive 'm out o' Suffolk?
Der's lodes an lodes o' shoes an' stockin's, an' sugar an' cawfy in
Suffolk! An' dese nasty Abolition Yankees got 'em all!"

"Those are not proper words for you to use," I said. "What have
you against the Northern people? They never did you harm."

"Dey ain't, ain't dey?" she replied, with feeling. "Huccome I'se
got to go barfooted? Hit's scan'lous for a free gal to go barfooted,
like she was so no 'count she couldn't git a par o' shoes fer herse'f."

"I'll ask the General to order a pair for you."

"Humph!" said Charity, scornfully; "you can't do nothin' wid dat

Gen'al. Ain' I hear you baig an' baig 'im for a par o' slippers dat time
he fristricated de boatload full? I ain' seen you git de slippers."

Charity was not the only one of the Nation's Wards who held the
enemy in contempt. The special terms in which she designated them
were in common use at the time. She had often heard them from
the General's servant, John, who shared the opinions of the common
soldier. Some of the expressions of the great men I knew in
Washington were quite as offensive and not a bit less inelegant,
although framed in better English. I never approved of "calling
names," I had seen what comes of it; and I reproved John for
teaching them to my little boys.

"No'm," said John, "I won't say nothin'; I'll just say the Yankees
are mighty mean folks."

My first news from the General was cheering, but he would not
return for a day or two. He must fly about the frontier a little in
various directions to let the enemy know he was holding his own. His
official report was as follows:—

"To Brigadier-General Colston, Petersburg, Va.

"Carrsville, Isle of Wight, January 30, 1863.

"General: This morning at 4 o'clock the enemy under Major-

General Peck attacked me at Kelly's store, eight miles from
Suffolk. After three hours' severe fighting we repulsed them at
all points and held the field. Their force is represented by
prisoners to be between ten and fifteen thousand. My loss in
killed and wounded will not exceed fifty—no prisoners. I regret
that Col. Poage is among the killed. We inflicted a heavy loss on
the enemy.

"Respectfully,
"Roger A. Pryor, Brigadier-General Commanding."

On February 2 the General thus addressed his troops: "The

Brigadier-General congratulates the troops of this command on the
results of the recent combat.

"The enemy endeavored under cover of night to steal an

inglorious victory by surprise, but he found us prepared at every
point, and despite his superior numbers, greater than your own, in
the proportion of five to one, he was signally repulsed and
compelled to leave us in possession of the field.

"After silencing his guns and dispersing his infantry, you

remained on the field from night until one o'clock, awaiting the
renewal of the attack, but he did not again venture to encounter
your terrible fire.

"When the disparity of force between the parties is considered,

with the proximity of the enemy to his stronghold, and his facilities
of reënforcements by railway, the result of the action of the 30th will
be accepted as a splendid illustration of your courage and good
conduct."

One of the "enemy's" papers declared that our force was "three
regiments of infantry, fourteen pieces of artillery, and about nine
hundred cavalry."

The temptation to "lie under a mistake" was great in those days

of possible disaffection, when soldiers had to believe in their cause
in order to defend it. One of the newspaper correspondents of the
enemy explained why we were not again attacked after the first
fight. He said: "Some may inquire why we did not march forthwith to
Carrsville and attack the rebels again. The reasons are obvious. Had
he went [sic] to Carrsville Pryor would have had the advantage to
cut off our retreat. The natives know every bypath and blind road
through the woods and are ever ready to help the rebels to our
detriment. Pryor can always cross the Blackwater on his floating
bridge. It is prudent to allow an enemy to get well away from his
stronghold the better to capture his guns and destroy his
ammunition," etc.

Another paper declares he was heavily reënforced at Carrsville.

 Another records: "The rebels have been very bold in this
neighborhood. Pryor has been in the habit of crossing the
Blackwater River whenever he wanted to. Our attacking him this
time must have been a real surprise to him. We took a large number
of prisoners!"

He continued the indulgence of this habit until spring, receiving

from his countrymen unstinted praise for his protection of that part
of our state. While he could not utterly rout the invading army, he
"held them very uneasy."

I was made rich by enthusiastic congratulations from our capital

and from Petersburg. Agnes wrote from Richmond:—

"Have you seen the Enquirer? Of course this is very grand

for you because this is your own little fight—all by yourself. In
Richmond everybody says the General is to be promoted Major-
General. When he is, I shall attach myself permanently to his
staff. The life of inglorious idleness here is perfectly awful. If
you suppose I don't long for a rich experience, you are
mistaken. Give me the whole of it—victory, defeat, glory and
misfortune, praise and even censure (so it be en plein air)—
anything, everything, except stolid, purposeless, hopeless
uselessness.

"The worst effect of this inaction is felt in this city, where we

can manufacture nothing for the soldiers, and only consume in
idleness what they need. A sort of court is still kept up here—
but the wives of our great generals are conspicuous for their
absence. Mrs. Lee is never seen at receptions. She and her
daughters spend their time knitting and sewing for the soldiers,
just as her great-grandmother, Martha Washington, did in '76;
and General Lee writes that these things are needed. People
here, having abundant time to find fault, do not hesitate to say
that our court ladies assume too much state for revolutionary
times. They had better be careful! We won't guillotine them—at
least not on the block (there are other guillotines), but it would
be lovelier if they could realize their fine opportunities. Think of
Florence Nightingale! Mrs. Davis is very chary of the time she
allots us. If King Solomon were to call with the Queen of Sheba
on his arm the fraction of a moment after the closing minute of
her reception, he would not be admitted! I can just see you
saying, in that superior manner you see fit to assume with me:
—

"'But, Agnes dear! that is good form, you know, and belongs
to the etiquette of polite life.'

"Of course I know it! Did I say that Mrs. Davis should admit
King Solomon? I wouldn't! I only tell you what other folks think
and say—but ajew, until I hear some more news and gossip.

"Dearly again,
"Agnes."
 CHAPTER XVI
VICISSITUDES OF THE WAR

My friend Agnes could soon record graver things than idleness or

gossip. On April 4, 1863, she wrote from Richmond:—

"My Dear: I hope you appreciate the fact that you are
herewith honored with a letter written in royal-red ink upon
sumptuous gilt-edged paper. There is not, at the present
writing, one inch of paper for sale in the capital of the
Confederacy, at all within the humble means of the wife of a
Confederate officer. Well is it for her—and I hope for you—that
her youthful admirers were few, and so her gorgeous cream-
and-gold album was only half filled with tender effusions. Out
come the blank leaves, to be divided between her friend and
her Colonel. Don't be alarmed at the color of the writing. I have
not yet dipped my goose-quill (there are no steel pens) in the
'ruddy drops that visit my sad heart,' nor yet into good orthodox
red ink. There are fine oaks in the country, and that noble tree
bears a gall-nut filled with crimson sap. One lies on my table,
and into its sanguinary heart I plunge my pen.

"Something very sad has just happened in Richmond—

something that makes me ashamed of all my jeremiads over the
loss of the petty comforts and conveniences of life—hats,
bonnets, gowns, stationery, books, magazines, dainty food.
Since the weather has been so pleasant, I have been in the
habit of walking in the Capitol Square before breakfast every
morning. Somehow nothing so sets me up after a restless night
as a glimpse of the dandelions waking up from their dewy bed
and the songs of the birds in the Park. Yesterday, upon arriving,
I found within the gates a crowd of women and boys—several
hundreds of them, standing quietly together. I sat on a bench
near, and one of the number left the rest and took the seat
beside me. She was a pale, emaciated girl, not more than
eighteen, with a sunbonnet on her head, and dressed in a clean
calico gown. 'I could stand no longer,' she explained. As I made
room for her, I observed that she had delicate features and
large eyes. Her hair and dress were neat. As she raised her
hand to remove her sunbonnet and use it for a fan, her loose
calico sleeve slipped up, and revealed the mere skeleton of an
arm. She perceived my expression as I looked at it, and hastily
pulled down her sleeve with a short laugh. 'This is all that's left
of me!' she said. 'It seems real funny, don't it?' Evidently she
had been a pretty girl—a dressmaker's apprentice, I judged
from her chafed forefinger and a certain skill in the lines of her
gown. I was encouraged to ask: 'What is it? Is there some
celebration?'

"'There is,' said the girl, solemnly; 'we celebrate our right to
live. We are starving. As soon as enough of us get together we
are going to the bakeries and each of us will take a loaf of
bread. That is little enough for the government to give us after
it has taken all our men.'

"Just then a fat old black Mammy waddled up the walk to

overtake a beautiful child who was running before her. 'Come
dis a way, honey,' she called, 'don't go nigh dem people,'
adding, in a lower tone, 'I's feared you'll ketch somethin' fum
dem po'-white folks. I wonder dey lets 'em into de Park.'
 "The girl turned to me with a wan smile, and as she rose to
join the long line that had now formed and was moving, she
said simply, 'Good-by! I'm going to get something to eat!'

"'And I devoutly hope you'll get it—and plenty of it,' I told

her. The crowd now rapidly increased, and numbered, I am
sure, more than a thousand women and children. It grew and
grew until it reached the dignity of a mob—a bread riot. They
impressed all the light carts they met, and marched along
silently and in order. They marched through Cary Street and
Main, visiting the stores of the speculators and emptying them
of their contents. Governor Letcher sent the mayor to read the
Riot Act, and as this had no effect he threatened to fire on the
crowd. The city battalion then came up. The women fell back
with frightened eyes, but did not obey the order to disperse.
The President then appeared, ascended a dray, and addressed
them. It is said he was received at first with hisses from the
boys, but after he had spoken some little time with great
kindness and sympathy, the women quietly moved on, taking
their food with them. General Elzey and General Winder wished
to call troops from the camps to 'suppress the women,' but Mr.
Seddon, wise man, declined to issue the order. While I write
women and children are still standing in the streets, demanding
food, and the government is issuing to them rations of rice.

"This is a frightful state of things. I am telling you of it

because not one word has been said in the newspapers about
it. All will be changed, Judge Campbell tells me, if we can win a
battle or two (but, oh, at what a price!), and regain the control
of our railroads. Your General has been magnificent. He has fed
Lee's army all winter—I wish he could feed our starving women
and children.
 "Dearly,
"Agnes."

My good Agnes reckoned without her host when she supposed

General Pryor would be rewarded for his splendid service on the
Blackwater. He had never ceased all winter to remind the Secretary
of War of his promise to give him a permanent command. He now
felt that he had earned it. He had fought many battles, acquitting
himself with distinction in all,—Williamsburg, Seven Pines,
Mechanicsville, Gaines's Mill, Frazier's Farm, the Second Manassas,
and Sharpsburg, besides the fight on the Blackwater.

He now wrote, April 6, 1863, an almost passionate appeal to the

President himself, imploring that he be sent into active service, and
not be "denied participation in the struggles that are soon to
determine the destinies of my country. If I know myself," he added,
"it is not the vanity of command that moves me to this appeal. A
single and sincere wish to contribute somewhat to the success of our
cause impels me to entreat that I may be assigned to duty. That my
position is not the consequence of any default of mine you will be
satisfied by the enclosed letter from General Lee." The letter was
followed by new promises. It was supplemented by General Pryor's
fellow-officers, who not only urged that the country should not lose
his services, but designated certain regiments which might easily be
assigned to him. The President wrote courteous letters in reply,
always repeating assurances of esteem, etc. The Richmond
Examiner and other papers now began to notice the matter and
present General Pryor as arrayed with the party against the
administration. This, being untrue, he contradicted. On March 17,
1863, the President wrote to him the following:—

"General Roger A. Pryor;

 "General: Your gratifying letter on the 6th inst. referring to
an article in the Examiner newspaper which seems to associate
you with the opposition to the administration, has been
received.

"I did not see the article in question, but I am glad it has led
to an expression so agreeable. The good opinion of one so
competent to judge of public affairs, and who has known me so
long and closely, is a great support in the midst of many and
arduous trials.

"Very respectfully and truly yours,

"Jefferson Davis."

Among the letters sent to Mr. Davis in General Pryor's behalf was
one from General Lee and one from General Jackson, both of which
unhappily remained in the President's possession, no copies having
been kept by General Pryor.

As time went on, my husband waited with such patience as he

could command. Finally he resigned his commission as brigadier-
general, and also his seat in Congress, and entered General Fitz
Lee's cavalry as a private soldier. His resignation was held a long
time by the President "in the hope it would be reconsidered," and
repeatedly General Pryor was "assured of the President's esteem,"
etc. General Jackson, General Longstreet, General A. P. Hill, General
D. H. Hill, General Wilcox, General George Pickett, General
Beauregard, were all his friends. Some of them had, like General
Johnston and General McClellan, similar experience. It was a bitter
hour for me when my General followed me to the Amelia Springs
with news that he had entered the cavalry as a private. "Stay with
me and the children," I implored.

"No," he said; "I had something to do with bringing on this war.

I must give myself to Virginia. She needs the help of all her sons. If
there are too many brigadier-generals in the service,—it may be so,
—certain it is there are not enough private soldiers."

The Divinity that "rules our ends, rough hew them as we may,"
was guiding him. I look back with gratitude to these circumstances,
—then so hard to bear,—circumstances to which, I am persuaded, I
owe my husband's life.

General Fitz Lee welcomed him in hearty fashion:

"Headquarters, August 26, 1863.

"Honorable, General, or Mr? How shall I address you? Damn

it, there's no difference! Come up to see me. Whilst I regret the
causes that induced you to resign your position, I am glad,
really, that the country has not lost your active services, and
that your choice to serve her has been cast in one of my
regiments.

"Very respectfully,
"Fitz Lee."

As a common soldier in the cavalry service, General Pryor was

assigned the duties of his position, from not one of which did he
ever excuse himself.

On May 3 General Lee had offered thanks to Almighty God for a

great victory at Chancellorsville.

On May 4, the date of Agnes's letter, news came that General

Jackson had been seriously wounded and his arm amputated. On
May 10 the General died, and we were all plunged into the deepest
grief. By every man, woman, and child in the Confederacy this good
man and great general was mourned as never man was mourned
before. From the moment of his death the tide of fortune seemed to
turn. Henceforth there would be only disaster and defeat. In losing
General Jackson our dear commander lost his right arm. But this
only inspired him to greater and more aggressive action.

He decided to take his army into Pennsylvania, and after

entering that state, on June 27, he issued his famous order,
reminding one of General Washington's similar order from
Pennsylvania, 1777:—

"General Order No. 73. From the Headquarters, Army of Northern

Virginia

"The commanding general has observed the conduct of the

troops upon the march, and confidently anticipates results
commensurate with the high spirit they have manifested....
Their conduct has, with few exceptions, been in keeping with
their character as soldiers, and entitles them to approbation and
praise.

"There have, however, been instances of forgetfulness, on

the part of some, that they have in keeping the yet unsullied
reputation of the army, and that the duties exacted of us by
civilization and Christianity are not less obligatory in the country
of the enemy than in our own.

"The commanding general considers that no greater

disgrace could befall the army, and through it our whole people,
than the perpetration of the barbarous outrages upon the
innocent and defenceless, and the wanton destruction of private
property, which have marked the course of the enemy in our
country. Such proceedings not only disgrace the perpetrators
and all connected with them, but are subversive of the discipline
and efficiency of the army, and destructive of the ends of our
present movements. It must be remembered that we make war
only on armed men, that we cannot take vengeance for the
wrongs our people have suffered without lowering ourselves in
 the eyes of all whose abhorrence has been excited by the
atrocities of our enemy, and offending against Him to whom
vengeance belongeth, without whose favor and support must all
prove vain."

Washington, Lee, and McClellan were not alone in their ideas of

civilized and Christian warfare.

Eighty-four years before this time there was a war in this same
country. It was a rebellion, too, and a nobleman led the troops of
Great Britain through the country to subdue the rebellion. The
people through whose land he marched were bitterly hostile. They
shot his foraging parties, sentinels, and stragglers; they fired upon
him from every wood.

On January 28, 1781, this order was issued from camp near
Beatty's Ford:—

"Lord Cornwallis has so often experienced the zeal and good

will of the army that he has not the smallest doubt that the
officers and soldiers will most cheerfully submit to the ill
conveniences that must naturally attend war, so remote from
water, carriage, and the magazines of the army. The supply of
rum for a time will be absolutely impossible, and that of meal
very uncertain. It is needless to point out to the officers the
necessity of preserving the strictest discipline, and of preventing
the oppressed people from suffering violence by the hands from
whom they are taught to look for protection."

Again:—
"Headquarters, Causler's Plantation,
"February 27, 1781.

"Lord Cornwallis is highly displeased that several houses

have been set on fire to-day during the march—a disgrace to
 the army—and he will punish to the utmost severity any person
or persons who shall be found guilty of committing so
disgraceful an outrage. His Lordship requests the commanding
officers of the corps will endeavor to find the persons who set
fire to the houses this day.... Any officer who looks on with
indifference and does not do his utmost to prevent shameful
marauding will be considered in a more criminal light than the
persons who commit these scandalous crimes."

Again:—
"Headquarters, Freelands, February 28, 1781.

"A watch found by the regiment of Bose. The owner may

have it from the adjutant of that regiment upon proving
property."

Another:—
"Smith's Plantation, March 1, 1781.

"Brigade Orders.—A woman having been robbed of a watch,

a black silk handkerchief, a gallon of brandy, and a shirt, and as
by description, by a soldier of the guards, the camp and every
man's kit is to be immediately searched for the same, by the
officer of the brigade."

And so it is that every circumstance of life is an opportunity for a

noble spirit. When we "let slip the dogs of war," some men find
excuse for license and cruelty, others for the exercise of self-restraint
and compassion. Admiral Porter tells a story which may illustrate the
strange "point of view" in the minds of some brave men upon the
legitimate conduct of war.

"The exploits of the army in foraging," said the Admiral,

"afforded matter for much amusement among the officers at