immediately mounted him, taking turns on foot till we were safely within our own lines and he could be carefully provided for. It was a wondrous feat and required marvellous powers of endurance, and I doubt if another man in the regiment could have gone through the same experience, or lived through the effects of it. Speaking of Como, however, recalls his gallant performance at Brandy Station. Those of you who were in the 3rd Battalion at that time, will well remember the spectacle of the fearless Boothby, bareheaded, hair streaming in the wind, glasses all awry, with gleaming sabre waving us on in that first grand charge, far in advance of his men. Separated, at one time, by some means, from his command, reckless of his isolation, he had plunged almost into the rebel ranks which had given way, and a brawny fellow came down upon him from the rear, and was in the very act of firing upon him, when Como, who had seen him, still some distance off, put spurs to his horse, and as he came within 100 yards, rose in his stirrups while at the full run and shot the rebel trooper dead from his horse, and the noble Boothby, ignorant that he owed his life to the valiant act of a private soldier, was preserved to us, to fall a year later, a victim to the same impetuous valor.

You all remember St. Mary's Church, of which I spoke, two years ago at Pittsfield. I never felt prouder of 'K' Co. than I did at that perilous moment, when the rebel column broke the lines just beyond our left. K' Co. was the left squadron of the first battalion, and its men stood like giants unmoved amid the storm, nor gave way an inch to the rush, till I ordered them to wheel, to face the enemy at right angles with our first position for the purpose of protecting the flank of the battalion, and right manfully they fought, without a waver in their ranks until the regiment was ordered back.

Serg't Tibbetts, who was a very methodical sort of man, had carefully deposited several cartridges on a log in front of him, to be a little more convenient for use. A big fellow came bounding towards him, and was just leaping over the little breastwork of logs and stumps, when Tibbetts, calmly pushing him back with the muzzle of his carbine, as quietly shot him down. Then the line was directed to fall back. Tibbetts started with it, but after retreating some thirty yards remembered his cartridges, and coolly went back under all that terrible fire, packed his ammunition and rejoined the line without a word. It was in this engagement that Como, of whom I

have just spoken, happening to be number four in his set of fours, was left with the led horses, at the rear. As the sounds of battle reached his ear, he became impatient, then grew excited, until at last it was more than he could bear, and in the hottest of the fray he came dashing up, crying out" Look here, boys, I can't stand this. I want a hand in this fight!" And he went in, and fought like a tiger throughout the balance of the day. It was afterwards ascertained that he gave a man five dollars to hold his horses to let him join the company in the fight!

I doubt if our gallant Lieut. Colonel knows, to-day, who bore him wounded and helpless from the field that evening. I see one of the brave fellows here to-night. He was a little fellow then, and suffering from the wound received at Upperville, and blushes as I allude to the act which saved his commanding officer from capture, if no worse fate,-Private, afterwards Corporal, Chas. Burgess. In the battle at St. Mary's Church, the regiment lost two officers and twelve men killed, of whom four, Corporal Brood, Blaisdell, Fowles, Chas. Welch, were from 'K,' and five officers and fifteen men wounded, of whom two, Douney, and Wm. Lang, were from 'K.' The only prisoner taken from the company at this time was Private George E. Alexander, who was detailed in the morning to carry canteens of water and coffee to the company, and who was captured while assisting a wounded comrade from the field, having given him his horse for that purpose.

At Deep Bottom, the total loss of the regiment was two killed and thirty-two wounded. Of the wounded, K's' share was four, Belony, Corporal Blake, Devine and Tibbetts; of the killed, one-Thompson, brave, patient, resigned, a true type of the Christian soldiermortally wounded. I visited him after the battle and found him dying. He uttered no complaint, no murmur fell from his lips He only said, as he took my hand, Captain, I am dying. I know I can live but a few minutes more. I'm not afraid to die. I have tried to do my duty, and I know it is in good cause." And so he passed away, and slept beneath the whispering forest trees, on that hallowed field, where the murmuring pines sang his last requiemone more name on the immortal muster-roll.

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In the terrible engagement of the 27th of October, at the Boydton Plank Road, the entire regiment lost 51 men wounded, of whom five were from K', Chapman, Churchill, Como, Gatchell and Hart. The killed of the regiment numbered nine, five of whom, more than

half, were from 'K', and some of the best and bravest men upon its rolls, George D. Besse, H. F. Harris, Chas. Lang, Robt. Lang and Staples.

Comrades, you all remember Hatcher's Run. February 6, '65, and how, while we were quietly eating our hard tack in the early morning, sharp firing was heard in the rear, where the 4th Pennsylvania, our rear guard, was attacked. Col. Cilley ordered me to charge with the first battalion, dismounted, and as we rose the crest of the hill above us, we received a hot fire from the rebels, in which Corp'l Babb of K' was severely wounded. A member, of the company, near by him at the time, quietly turned to Serg't McDougall, as the line passed hurriedly on, saying, with a twinkle in his eye, "Alec, that's always the way. If there's any luck for anybody, its always for a d-d recruit. One of us would have to fight forever, and not be lucky enough to get a rest!"

After my promotion to the full command of the company, I established a school of instruction for non-commissioned officers, and quickly found a friendly rivalry springing up, which involved a great degree of study and hard work among them, and soon led to the most beneficial and gratifying results. The instruction was not confined to books, involving their ordinary, routine duties, but the men were constantly called upon to discuss commands and evolutions in all sorts of hypothetical cases, and I say to you here to-night, that, during the latter half of the war, I had sergeants in 'K' Co. who, I know, were more competent to handle a squadron on drill and in action than some commissioned officers I could name in the regular army. I ask no higher testimony to their worth and skill, than was given them on several occasions by officers of such discrimination as Gen'l Cilley, Gen'l Smith and Gen'l D. M. Gregg, and it is a fact of which I have always been justly proud, that, during the last two years of their service, the company had the undisputed distinction of possessing the finest corps of non-commissioned officers in the brigade. It has also been a source of deep satisfaction to me, to be able to say, from the statistics of the regiment, that 'K' Co. lost fewer horses, except those killed in action, than any other company in the command, and to know that that fact is verified at the War Department, by the official statements of our commanding officers. This may serve, to some extent, as a compensation to those members of the company who sometimes felt it a great hardship, on returning from a midnight ride, perhaps in

dead winter, wet through, cold and hungry, to be compelled to spend an hour in thoroughly rubbing down and caring for their horses, before they were allowed to look after their own comfort.

Every one who was ever connected with 'K' Co. will re-call, tonight, one man, whose sterling qualities, whose cool, quiet bravery, whose warm, generous heart, whose strong moral influence, were a power in his company, and a potent aid to his officers in the discipline of the troop. Clear-sighted, unruffled by reverses, undisturbed amid dangers, never excited, never losing his head, fighting all day behind his "fortified conveniences," as he called the frail barricade of Virginia fence rails, and turning in the hottest of the fray to his nearest comrades to "quietly" remark, "Busy time of year, boys, busy time of year!" This man could at one moment deliberately pick off a rebel rifleman, and at the next would empty his canteen for some wounded sufferer by his side; would coolly face a hailstorm of rebels bullets, and then share his last cracker with his half-starved foe, as he guarded him to the rear; could fight all day, cold, wet, hungry and exhausted. animating his desponding companions, and, when the troops withdrew from the field at night, trudge along on foot, to mount upon his horse some wounded comrade or some man more weary than himself. This man, whose age, with the dignity of his bearing, whose high moral sense, with the weight of his personal example, contributed so much to the good order and discipline of his company. Do you understand why his officers regarded him as invaluable, why his comrades always spoke of him with deference and deep respect and deeper affection, as "Uncle Reuel"? God bless his noble memory!—Sergeant Reuel B. Stinson. Ah, that terrible, that glorious 31st of March, 1865, was prolific of brave deeds and noble daring. I remember well, how my own little bugler, Kenney, the youngest member, and naturally the pet of his company, to whom I entrusted my horse when I dismounted beyond the river, to accompany my line, lingered and waited and delayed, till the last led horse had re-crossed the stream, and the rebel fire grew hot, as the enemy poured down the road and through the woods, and narrowly escaped death or capture in his attempt to reach his commanding officer. After falling back across the river, Sergeants Somes and Butterfield and Private McCarthy took shelter behind a large tree and held their ground till their ammunition was exhausted, when they effected their escape, though a little to the left

Dick.

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the rebels were in their rear. McCarthy was severely wounded, but the two sergeants succeeded in taking him to a place of safety. Among his other hurts McCarthy had a shattered finger. The surgeon finding, upon examination, that amputation was necessary, called for ether. The devil take your ether, for I won't!" said "So you think because it's only your finger it won't hurt you, but the bone will have to be sawed, and it will hurt you just the same as if it were your leg or arm," urged the surgeon. "Go ahead!" replied Dick, extending to him his hand, and the surgeon performed the operation. At the close, looking at the brave fellow, who had borne it unflinchingly, the doctor saw he was rather pale, and called out "Steward, bring me the whiskey," of which he gave Dick a good stiff glass. McCarthy drank it down, smacked his lips, considered a moment, and then suddenly reaching out his other hand with the forefinger extended, exclaimed, "Say, doctor, won't you take off the other finger and give us another glass!" Dick was as brave a fellow as ever wore the blue, and is, to-day, an out and out teetotaler, a good husband, a kind father, a genuine Christian man, and an exemplary citizen, occupying an important position of trust and responsibility with a large manufacturing corporation in the South.

During the hottest of the fight, Serg't Somes' carbine became disabled by the shell of a cartridge remaining fixed after firing, and preventing his reloading. The men were falling all about him as the line slowly retreated, and Somes borrowed a knife and attempted to remove the obstruction, but without avail. Lieut. Tobie, passing him and perceiving his plight, gave him a carbine just taken from a wounded man, which he received with thanks, and again mingled in the fight and nobly performed his duty throughout the engagement. David Tozier, during the final struggle, took position behind a tree and persistently held his ground till severely wounded. He fell on the field. The men made a rally and checked and held back the enemy till some of his comrades bore him senseless and bleeding to the rear, when he recovered consciousness and begged his friends to leave him and save themselves. "I know I must die," he said, “and I am afraid you will be captured." They heroically clung to him, however, and carried him through the woods, at the risk of their own lives, and never flagged till they reached a place of safety for him, and saw him tenderly cared for by the surgeons. I may be pardoned for some feeling of pride that I left behind me on that field not one wounded member of any company. Lieut. Jewett