The Bay State Monthly, Volume 3, No. 5

No one need suppose that after the experiences of the day the representative A.M.C's. were fatigued sufficiently to make them willing to retire at half-past ten. Besides, nightmare has its horrors, and there was that supper!

It is popularly supposed throughout the country, that Bostonians make an annual pilgrimage on the seventeenth of June to Bunker Hill, and devoutly ascend the monument on their hands and knees. Although circumstances had prevented the A.M.C. party from discharging their debt of gratitude to their ancestors in the prescribed method, they could not forget that it was Bunker Hill Day. One of our gallant and patriotic brethren had been carrying a mysterious bundle about and guarding it with jealous care all day. Now, he produced and displayed—sky-rockets! They went off, soon after, with great success, surprising alike the stately mountain behind us and the little country girl who had come up from the valley below, to see the "Boston folks."

The powerful telescopes were also set up and observations of the heavens occupied the astronomically inclined for an hour or two. Thus the moons of Jupiter were made to contribute to the evening's entertainment. The piano, too, was not the instrument of torture usually found masquerading in hotel-parlors, and we finally gravitated towards it and made night hideous with our music and college songs until, to pharaphrase the poet, in to-day already walked to-morrow and it was twelve o'clock,

"My friends," spoke up one of the gentlemen, "I am very sorry to say that we shall not be able to ascend Mount Kearsarge to-morrow."

"Why?" exclaimed a dozen anxious voices.

"Because," was the impressive answer, "it is to-day!"

In the laugh which followed the party said good night and retired.

The Winslow House was named for Admiral Winslow, of the war-ship Keasarge, who was present at the opening of the hotel, and gave the owner a stand of colors. On the parlor table lay a Bible presented by him, as stated by a gilt inscription on the cover. When the gallant commander died, a boulder was taken from the side of Mount Kearsarge for his monument, but the controversy in regard to which of the two Kearsarges the ship had been named for arose about that time and the family of the officer finally decided not to use the boulder. It has been pretty well settled, at last, that the mountain in Merrimack County, designated by Superintendent Patterson as Kearsarge South, is the one which gave the famous ship its name. Under the shadow of it, too, was laid the body of the soldier of the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment who fell at Baltimore, exclaiming with his dying breath: "All hail to the Stars and Stripes;" although afterward he was removed to lie near the soldiers' monument at Lowell. The ancient spelling of this monument was Carasage, and later, Kyar Sarga; but as early as 1804 the laws of New Hampshire give it as Kearsage. The local spelling of Kearsarge North, until a comparatively recent period, was Kiarsarge. It is still called Pequaket.

Early the next morning, two bold Appalachians rose early and took a run up the mountain, getting back to breakfast and making the descent of nearly 1,200 feet in eighteen minutes! The climb was represented as more difficult than that of the day before. We did not find it so, however, as we proceeded with the reinforcements furnished by a hearty breakfast; the clear bracing air of the morning was delightful. The song-sparrows, perched at a safe distance, poured forth floods of melody, the Peabody bird added his high weird note, while other wild birds occasionally chimed in. The path led up through forests of black spruce whose sighing branches whispered softly over our heads. Every one was in excellent humor and had a capital story or a bit of geological scientific or botanical wisdom. The wild-flowers were scarcer than on Cardigan but there was greater variety of ferns. Half way up, a tiny spring welled up in the pathway. Our grave philosopher, as well-versed in mystical wood-craft as metaphysics, cut a strip of birch-bark from one of the over-hanging trees and deftly fashioned an Indian drinking-cup. Working from the idea of a birch-bark canoe somebody offered the cup-full, as a "schooner of water." On being asked to explain her nautical terms, the joker protested ignorance and entirely disowned her far-fetched joke.

As we advanced, here and there, under the white birches or between the dense growth of spruce, broad glimpses were visible of the townships below. Suddenly, vegetation ceased and we were again on the bare rock with several hundred feet between us and the rude structure called, by courtesy, the Summit House. Beside the latter, we already descried our companions, not lost but gone before; and we find ourselves in the awkward predicament of the man with three hands—a right, a left and a little behind-hand.

The top of Kearsarge is composed of andalusite schist. The marks of glacial action are even more distinct than on Cardigan, while the stratification is very curious. When we reached the top, the first-comers were already busy with surveys, profile sketches and photographs. As we looked at Cardigan looming up grandly in the northwest, we were proud of our work of the day before. The view from the two mountains, only twenty miles apart, is of course much the same. Kearsarge is in exact line with Wauchusct, the Pack Monadnocks and Moosilauke. These, except the first, could be plainly seen. Mount Washington, seventy miles distant, Lafayette, Chocorua, Tridyranid, the Twin Mountains, and Franconia Notch formed a sharp, clear picture against the northern sky, and were flanked by scores of smaller mountains. The green rolling country, flecked by numerous ponds and rivers, stretched away for miles at our feet, to a line of blue, hazy mountains. The Black-water hills, Sunapee and dozens of other well-known mountains seemed from our standpoint hardly more than good-sized haystacks. So, perhaps, will our greatest earthly achievements look, when viewed from the heights of eternity.

By noon a blue haze had crept over the horizon and was spreading over the whole landscape. But we had scored a victory over it by coming early.

"To have the great poetic heart,Is more than all the climber's art."

In some sense, we each felt the meaning of the lines, as we turned from Kearsarge top and made the gradual descent. There is a precipitous bridle-path which shortens the distance in proportion as it increases fatigue. The majority of us were unwilling to tempt fate by adopting it, and took the easier way. As we stopped occasionally in a shady nook to rest, we severally confessed that scraps of Lowell's matchless poem had been floating nebulously in the brain ever since the clouds had disappeared the day before. Two such days as we had been blessed with are rare, even in June. Up there in the forest primeval, in the happy shining weather, we were constantly proving that there was

"Not a leaf or a blade too meanTo be some happy creature's palace."

If we waxed sentimental, something must be forgiven the lavish summer.

At the hotel, the bountiful dinner was garnished with the best of all sauces. Then, reluctantly indeed after our two days' tramping, we started for Boston, arriving there a little past seven the same evening. We had had unprecedented weather, and a well-planned and perfectly executed trip. Never was there a pleasanter excursion or a more successful outing. If the path up the hill of life were no more difficult than that up Cardigan! If all earthly troubles could be as easily surmounted as Kearsarge! Possibly they might be if we went forth to meet them with the same stout heart and determined spirit.

"Daily with souls that cringe and plot,We Sinais climb and know it not."

THE MARCH OF THE SIXTH REGIMENT

By Rev. Charles Babbidge, Chaplain

Should a motto ever be needed for some prospective medal commemorative of the "Old Sixth Reg." none would seem to be more appropriate than a quotation from Virgil,—"Primus tentare viam." Though but little honor attaches to being first, where all were equally ready to be foremost, still, the "chances of war" gave some little advantage to this fortunate military body. Its ready re-response to the call "To Arms," served to awaken a similar enthusiasm in all the other military organizations of the Commonwealth. The admirable state of discipline to which the regiment had been brought by its accomplished and efficient commander, Col. Edward F. Jones, and his subordinate officers, was fully competent to secure the respect and confidence of the multitudes of patriotic citizens with whom it came in contact after leaving Massachusetts; and it is only doing justice to the soldiers of this regiment to say, that amid all the excitement of the commencement of a campaign, and all the flattering attentions and entertainments which they received from every quarter, and on all occasions, they maintained the solid, steady deportment of soldiers well trained, of citizens accustomed to good society, and of patriots ready and willing to do whatever these qualities imply and require.

It can hardly be said that "the order to march" came unlooked for, though it most certainly was sudden. The tender of the services of the regiment had long since been in the hands of Gov. Andrew; meetings of the field and staff officers had been held; there was a free and thorough interchange of opinions and sentiments among the line officers; and not a single soldier could be found who had not fully digested all the particulars of a possible future.

The ready response of our citizen-soldiers to the call of the governor furnishes an apt illustration of the peculiar character of our people. Under a government that requires the constant maintenance of a strong military force, "General Orders" would have been issued to the various camps and garrisons scattered throughout the country. When danger threatened us it became manifest at once, that every peaceful village was a garrison, and every city a fortified camp. It was often a subject of merriment while we, like Christopher North were "under canvas," to relate the particular circumstances of time, place, and occupation at the moment when each of us found himself suddenly transformed into a soldier. Each had his story to tell of his numerous "hair's breadth escapes," as through mud, snow and darkness he made his way to the appointed rendezvous, on the morning of April 16th.

In Lowell the regiment paraded in Huntington Hall, and there received a cordial welcome from the people of that city. Taking the cars we arrived in Boston about noon, and were assigned quarters in one of the armories in Faneuil Hall. With a view to better accomodations, the regiment in the afternoon marched to Boylston Hall, and there prepared for as comfortable a bivouac as circumstances permitted.

Up to this time the weather had been as gloomy as war and dripping clouds could make it. Having (figuratively) pitched our tents in Boylston Hall, the discipline of camp-life was at once established, and communication with the world outside, was largely cut off. This however did not interfere with the free admission of many tokens of regard from friends outside, in the form of refreshments of various kinds.

Two memorable incidents of the evening will long be remembered. The pretty and graceful daughter of Col. Jones was adopted, with all the honors, as "Daughter of the Regiment"; and secondly the comfortable and becoming overcoats prepared with wise forethought for the regiment were issued. The motley outer-garments, in which, up to this moment, we had found shelter from the storm, were at once discarded. In our new garments we not only found great comfort;—we also felt that the inner as well as the outer man could boast a resemblance to "regular" troops.

On the morning of the 17th we were marched to the State House, then and there to receive the salutations of the Governor, and also to receive, what at the moment struck some of us as a pretty forcible reminder that we were now occupying positions that were entirely new to us.

Drawn up in military array in Doric Hall we were each of us "donated" two blue flannel shirts and some corresponding under garments. This gratuitous equipment implied service. To those of us who within a twelvemonth had figured in the hall over our heads, as representatives of the sovereign people, it indicated a very marked change of circumstances.

Among other tokens of the confidence reposed in our patriotism and prowess, a heavy cavalry revolver was bestowed upon each of the field and staff officers. As these could not be conveniently carried, on the return march, by those who had been made the happy recipients of these bulky favors, they were bundled together and consigned for safe-keeping to the Chaplain, to be borne on the line of march back to Boylston Hall. Why that functionary should have been chosen to carry a whole armory of weapons, in the sight of the admiring crowds that lined the streets of Boston remains a question. Opinions are equally divided as to whether, as chaplain he would be most likely to prevent a hasty and rash use of fire-arms; or whether, he was de facto a "common carrier," on the ground that ministers were made and designed for "bearing burdens."

Early in the afternoon, the regiments entered the cars of the Worcester Railroad, and the march to Washington was fairly begun. So long as daylight permitted, tokens of the uprising of the people of the commonwealth were everywhere visible; and when darkness had settled down around us, we caught glimpses of excited multitudes as the cars dashed on without stopping, by the brilliantly illuminated depots and settlements along the route. Our reception at Springfield was of a truly jubilant character. Refreshments in great profusion, and of the most appetizing kind were furnished and received a most cordial welcome within our hungry ranks. The streets were illuminated, and cannon thundered in every direction. Our stay was a short one; and we rattled on and on until the morning revealed the fact that we were in Connecticut and not far from New York.

It will require a more gifted pen than the one that traces these lines to picture the march of the "Old Sixth" through the city of New York. Never before had so deep because so peculiar an enthusiasm pervaded the people of that vast metropolis. Patriotism, under its normal and customary forms, had, on many previous occasions, been wrought up to an intense height; but now it was not to celebrate their national independence, but to secure their national existence, or rather, to settle the question whether the American people were, or were not a Nation.

At the St. Nicholas and other places, the wants of the regiment were sumptuously provided for. At the Astor House, the field and staff officers were entertained in a manner that left nothing to be desired.

Once more on the march, the regiment passed through the crowded streets, everywhere receiving welcome plaudits until they reached the ferry that conducted them to Hoboken, and the places en route to Baltimore and Washington. As we passed into the ferry boats to cross the river, a voice was heard above the tumult of the place and hour, "Good luck to you, boys, but some of you will never return by this route;" a prediction speedily fulfilled. Within about twenty-four hours, three of our number had been transferred to a higher department.

The passage through Delaware to Philadelphia was not marked by any incidents worthy of notice. Their long and weary pilgrimage had begun to change a brisk, wide-awake regiment into a common-place body of weary pilgrims, glad to find a shelter, without much questioning as to what it might be. Quarters were assigned us in the Gerard House which happened at that time to be unoccupied. For a brief period quiet ruled the hour, and the weary soldier had begun his dreams of home and happiness long before he was ready to stretch his limbs upon the mattresses that covered the floors of the spacious hotel.

Suddenly the "Long-roll" was heard echoing along the streets and through the halls of the Gerard House. The accoutrements and garments that had been doffed in readiness for sleep were hastely resumed; and at the word "Fall in," every man was in his place.

The "weight of affliction" in this crisis fell upon the field and staff officers. They had but just assembled in the drawing-room of the Continental Hotel, and gone through with those preliminary forms that are quite as indicative of a good appetite as of good manners, and were quiet taking their places at the table, amid the sumptuous surroundings of a dining hall at that time scarcely equalled on the continent, when Col. Jones entered the apartment, with the abrupt salutation, "Gentlemen, to your posts; we start for Baltimore immediately, the regiment awaits the order to march." "Væ mihi!" the writer of this paper felt that he might, under the circumstances of the moment, appropriate a few minutes of time's rapid flight to contemplate in sorrow and silence the scene of disappointment and woe. The little he still retained of classic lore brought back images of the Harpies, as he had read of them in Virgil. And even Sancho Panza thrust in his bullet head, with an asinine smile, as the writer recalled poor Sancho's distress at not sharing the feast so tantalizingly spread before him.

But, "hurry up" became the word when the drums and fifes gave notice that the regiment was on the move, and that somebody would "get left" if they did not practise the "Pas redouble."

BY THE SEA

By Teresa HerrickI watch the mighty breakers rear, and dashAgainst the shore,I hear the sad complaining of the sea;ForevermoreThere rises in my soul a ceaseless song,A lonely wail;A yearning for the golden days to come,A craving to be deluged in that SeaWhose waves are lovesUnutterable.And now I see the gray mist creeping downUpon the sea.The bright blue waves are hidden from my sight;Ah me, ah me,Thou too, O Sea of God's ImmensityFrom me art screened;But till the mists be lifted up I wait,Wait patiently and long, then will I plungeBeneath Thy wavesO wondrous Sea!

THE RESPONSE OF MARBLEHEAD IN 1861

By Samuel Roads, JrAUTHOR OF "HISTORY AND TRADITIONS OF MARBLEHEAD."

The news of the fall of Fort Sumter aroused the entire North to action. The great civil war which had so long been threatened could no longer be averted, and in every town and hamlet, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, the people rose as one man to defend the integrity of the Union.

On the 15th of April, President Lincoln issued his first proclamation calling for seventy-five thousand militia for a three months' service. The news was received in Marblehead, Mass., late in the afternoon of that day, and the three militia companies were at once notified by their respective commanders to be in readiness to take the early morning train for Boston. These companies were: The Marblehead Sutton Light Infantry, Company C, Eighth Regiment, commanded by Capt. Knott V. Martin; The Lafayette Guards, Company B, Eighth Regiment, commanded by Capt. Richard Phillips; and the Glover Light Guards, Company H, Eighth Regiment, commanded by Capt. Francis Boardman.

The morning of Tuesday, the 16th of April, broke cold and stormy. Notwithstanding the rain and sleet which rendered the cold weather uncomfortable in the extreme, the streets of Marblehead were filled with an excited throng of people. Wives and mothers and fathers and children were represented there in the dense crowd, all anxious to speak a farewell word to the soldiers on their departure. The first companies to leave town were those commanded by Captains Martin and Boardman, which marched to the depot and took the half-past seven o'clock train for Boston. Captain Phillips' company took the train which left Marblehead about an hour and a half later.

As the trains slowly left the depot, the cheers of the assembled multitude were re-echoed by the soldiers in the cars. "God bless you!" "Good-by!" resounded on all sides; and it was not until the last car had disappeared in the distance, that the great crowd began to disperse.

Of the arrival of the Marblehead companies in Boston there is little need for me to write. The testimony of such eminent witnesses as Adjutant-general Schouler and General E.W. Hinks cannot be disputed, and we quote it verbatim.

"There has been some controversy in military circles," wrote General Schouler, "as to which company can claim the honor of first reaching Boston. I can answer, that the first were the three companies of the Eighth Regiment belonging to Marblehead, commanded by Captains Martin, Phillips and Boardman. I had been at the State House all night; and early in the morning, rode to the arsenal at Cambridge, to ascertain whether the orders from headquarters to send in arms, ammunition, overcoats and equipments had been properly attended to. Messengers had also been stationed at the different depots, with orders for the companies, on their arrival, to proceed at once to Faneuil Hall, as a northeasterly storm of sleet and rain had set in during the night, and had not abated in the morning. On my return from Cambridge, I stopped at the Eastern Railroad depot. A large crowd of men and women, notwithstanding the storm, had gathered there, expecting the arrival of troops. Shortly after eight o'clock, the train arrived with the Marblehead companies. They were received with deafening shouts from the excited throng. The companies immediately formed in line, and marched by the flank directly to Faneuil Hall, the fifes and drums playing "Yankee Doodle," the people following and shouting like madmen, and the rain and sleet falling piteously, as if to abate the ardor of the popular welcome. And thus it was that the Marblehead men entered Faneuil Hall on the morning of the 16th of April."

The testimony of General Hinks, who at the breaking out of the war was Lieutenant-colonel of the Eighth Regiment, is interesting as an important historical statement, and is as follows:

"On Monday, April 15, 1861, at quarter-past two o'clock, in reply to an offer of my services made in the morning of that day, I received from Governor Andrew a verbal command to summon the companies of the Eighth Regiment, by his authority, to rendezvous at Faneuil Hall at the earliest possible hour. Leaving Boston on the half-past two o'clock train, I proceeded to Lynn, and personally notified the commanding officers of the two companies in that city, and from thence telegraphed to Captain Bartlett at Newburyport, and Captain Centre of Gloucester, and then drove to Beverly and summoned the company there; and from thence hastened to Marblehead, where I personally notified the commanding officers of the three Marblehead companies. I found Captain Martin in his slaughter-house, with the carcass of a hog, just killed, and in readiness for the "scald." On communicating to the captain my orders, I advised him to immediately cause the bells of the town to be rung, and to get all the recruits he could. Taking his coat from a peg, he seemed for a moment to hesitate about leaving his business unfinished, and then turned to me, and with words of emphatic indifference in regard to it, put the garment on, with his arms yet stained with blood and his shirt-sleeves but half rolled down, and with me left the premises to rally his company.

"On Tuesday, April 16, I was directed to remain on duty at Faneuil Hall, and during the forenoon the following named companies arrived there and reported for duty, to wit;—

"1. Companies C, Eighth Regiment, forty muskets, Capt. Knott V. Martin, and H, Eighth Regiment, Capt. Francis Boardman, both of Marblehead, which place they left at half-past seven o'clock A.M. and arrived in Boston at about nine o'clock.

"2. Company D, Fourth Regiment, thirty-two muskets, Sergt. H.F. Wales, left home about nine o'clock, and arrived at about ten A.M.

"3. Company B, Eighth Regiment, forty muskets, Capt. Richard Phillips, of Marblehead, left home at nine o'clock, and arrived in Faneuil Hall about eleven A.M.

"The above is substantially a true record, as will appear by reference to the files of the "Journal" of that date, and is prompted only by a desire to do justice to Captain Martin and the patriotic men of Marblehead, who, on the outbreak of the Rebellion, were the first to leave home, the first to arrive in Boston, and subsequently, under my command, the first to leave the yard of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, to repair and relay the track in the march through Maryland to relieve the beleaguered capitol of the Nation."