Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 2, May 1999 Page: 53

Reminiscences of the Old Brigade

high and ennobling quality that goes to make
an upright, honorable man, were far superior
to the commanding officer, but in this respect
we take pleasure in saying that our Brigade was
especially fortunate in its officers, for in the
long list of names that upheld the southern cross,
either as officers or privates, none brighter are
recorded there than Tom Green, "Gotch"
Hardeman, James Riely, John Shropshire;
Majs. Raguet, Steele, Sutton, Bagby, Boone,
Lockridge, Phil Herbert; Cols. Hoffman, Sh-
annon, Scurry, and the different captains com-
manding the various companies composing the
Brigade, all of whom were loved, revered and
respected by their men.
The Southern Army was composed of the
very flower of the Southern people, they were
the quiet, peaceable, home loving citizen, and
cheerful light of the southern home, for the des-
perado, the street brawler and the "bully" were
conspicuously absent from that line of gray,
they were men of peace, to whom strife,
bickerings and bloodshed was revolting, but
when their own loved South called on them to
sustain her honor, they responded to the call
and with steady steps and solid phalanx marched
into the very jaws of roaring cannons and blaz-
ing muskets, and while some of their acts may
border on desperation, yet the reader must re-
member that the southern soldier knew that the
attempt to establish a southern government in
the face of a world in arms, was desperate, and
that nothing but the most desperate deeds of
daring, glory and renown could carry that flag
in triumph even if that could succeed.
The readers must remember, too, that that
army was composed of the very chivalry of a
chivalrous people, who had been reared from
their earliest infancy to believe that their high-
est, noblest and most sacred duty was to their
country, and that when her necessities required,
no selfish motives or fear of bodily harm must
be allowed to interfere with that duty.
They must remember, too, that times, cir-

cumstances and men have changed since then,
so that now the world seems scarcely to be the
same. Then patriotism, virtue, integrity and
competency was the test for office. Then men
toiled for their country's good. Now self is the
shrine at which they worship. Then men would
toil and bleed and die for a sweet smile from a
lovely woman, and their every thought was
ennobled to her. Now they intrigue and ma-
neuver to degrade and debase her. Then the
patriot and statesman ruled. Now the politician
and demagogue is triumphant while the patriot
and statesman weep. Then we were poor, and
such things as friendship and brains were needed
and really existed. Now we are rich, friend-
ship is forgotten, and medical science has re-
vealed the fact that about twenty years ago the
supply of brains gave out and since that time
batter has been used.
Then woman, noble, lovely woman, would
endure any suffering and make any sacrifice
for the man she loved-thank God she remains
unchanged to this good hour.
These noble true sons of the South believed
they were right. Along the valley of the Rio
Grande, all through the Southern States, and
along the Potomac are little knolls that mark
the last resting place of noble heroes, who gave
their lives for a cause they believed to be just
and willingly died to uphold. They have crossed
over the river, and are resting beneath the trees,
their shouts are no longer heard, their voices
are settled, they can not tell of their sufferings,
heroism, and bravery ...
We owe them a solemn, a sacred and a
noble duty, and that duty is in plain and simple
language to transmit to posterity their acts,
deeds, toils, sufferings and death, that future
generations reading the simple facts can see
what mighty heroes lived and died for them.
We ourselves are passing away, everyday some
one of us is called to that "bourne from whence
no traveler e'er returns." In our early youth at
our country's call with solid phalanx and steady
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