Drum Taps in Dixie [Illustration: THE AUTHOR--A WAR-TIME PHOTOGRAPH.] DRUM TAPS IN DIXIE MEMORIES OF A DRUMMER BOY 1861-1865 BY DELAVAN S. MILLER Watertown, N. Y. Hungerford-Holbrook Co. 1905 Copyrighted 1905 By DELAVAN S. MILLER Published December, 1905 HUNGERFORD-HOLBROOK CO. WATERTOWN, N. Y. _Affectionately dedicated to my Wife and Children._ Preface A chance meeting with a comrade who was instrumental in saving from capture a piece of artillery at the second battle of Bull Run suggested one of the several sketches grouped together in this volume. Memory awakened furnished material for those that followed, each article recalling faces, forms, scenes and incidents from out of the misty past. “Awake but one, and lo! What myriads rise!” The writer has enjoyed his reminiscing. It has been a labor of love, so to speak, enabling him in a measure to live the old days over again. The articles have been written at odd times after business hours, and should not be scrutenized too closely from a literary standpoint. The writing of the memories of a drummer boy has been a source of pleasure and rest to the writer, who sincerely hopes that the reading of them may not weary those who, in _their_ hours of rest, may scan these pages. DELAVAN S. MILLER. Prelude--The Drum’s Story Yes, I am a drum, and a very old drum at that. My leather ears are twisted and brown. My shiny sides are scratched and marred. My once beautiful white head is patched and blood-stained. Yet, I am loved and tenderly cared for; have my own cosy corner in the attic and am better provided for than many of the brave men who fought for the Union. So I am content. I have lived my life. Was ever ready for duty. Made lots of noise. Have led men on the march and in battle. Now I am laid aside, growing old like all the boys of ’61. Drum Taps in Dixie. CHAPTER I. OFF FOR THE WAR. When the news was flashed across the country that Fort Sumter had been fired upon the writer was a 12-year-old boy residing in West Carthage. The events of those days stand forth in his memory like the hillcrests of a landscape. The shot electrified the north, and the martial current that went from man to man was imparted to the boys. Favorite sports and pastimes lost their zest. Juvenile military companies paraded the streets every evening and mimic battles were fought every Saturday afternoon. The flag lowered over Fort Sumter was unfurled everywhere. Flags cost money in those days, too, but they were flung to the breeze from the tops of churches, school houses, business places and the homes of the rich and the poor. I used to go up on the roof of my home nearly every day to count the new banners.