USA > New York > Dutchess County > The "Dutchess county regiment" (150th regiment of New York state volunteer infantry) in the Civil War; > Part 14
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"Sunday, July 12th-Preached in the morning, and all of us expected that before night another big fight would begin."
"Thursday, July 16th-Found my horse so used up that I had to leave him on a farm by the way. Pushed on with the rest to Sandy Hook, having passed by the Antietam battlefield."
"Wednesday, July 22nd-Fields around fairly covered with blackberries. The boys would gather a cupful in five minutes."
I wonder if any of the pickers remember what quanti- ties they brought into camp in their caps, or just under their blouses ! About these days several farmers com- plained to Colonel Ketcham that his men were milking their cows out in the pasture lots once an hour. Very likely some of them did it; they were simply getting back to infantile operations.
I wonder whether Colonel Ketcham ever forgot send- ing two of the boys with a dollar bill to get him a canteen of milk somewhere in this region! This farmer proved to be a modern Shylock, and when he saw the dollar he took the whole of it for the two quarts. An angry squad, on hearing of the transaction, interviewed the
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same farmer within an hour, and left every pan in his cellar as clean as if a cat had licked it. In this way they just about evened up the account.
"Monday, July 27th-Received two mails, and sent one out; our first direct communication with home for nearly three weeks."
It can easily be imagined what excitement this fact stirred in camp. Not quite as much as a battle, it is true, perhaps a trifle less than the arrival of the paymaster, but the coming of the mail-bag was the next thing.
"Friday, July 31st-Camped near Kelley's Ford, on the Rappahannock. The heat is terrible, and the water supply the scantiest and poorest. I am seriously unwell here, and have not left my tent for days."
"Saturday, August 8th-My resignation as Chaplain of the 150th is accepted."
Along with Adjutant Thompson I started for home, but got as far only as Baltimore, and there gave up and went into a hospital, where I lay for some days. On Wednesday, August 19th, I went to Kearneyville for my horse, and then left for New York, which I reached on Friday, the 21st. I here straightened out all my accounts with the government, receiving my pay, and at night was again in Amenia, my home, after an absence of nearly eleven months.
Thus ended my connection with the " Dutchess County Regiment," and my army experience. To the survivors of the old command I send all good wishes, and the "All Hail" of the great future of a country they helped to save.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE SONGS WE USED TO SING. Selected by
HUBBARD F. ROBERTS and JAMES H. VASSAR.
America-Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah !- Red, White and Blue-The Battle Cry of Free- dom-Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp !- Battle Hymn of the Republic-The Vacant Chair-Tenting on the Old Camp Ground-When Johnny Comes Marching Home-Song of the Camp-Kingdom Coming -Annie Laurie-Star Spangled Banner-When this Cruel War Is Over.
AMERICA.
My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing; Land where my fathers died ! Land of the Pilgrim's pride ! From ev'ry mountain side Let freedom ring !
My native country, thee,- Land of the noble free,- Thy name I love; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills : My heart with rapture thrills, Like that above.
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Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song : Let mortal tongues awake; Let all that breathe partake; Let rocks their silence break,- The sound prolong.
Our fathers' God to Thee, Author of Liberty, To Thee we sing : Long may our land be bright With Freedom's holy light; Protect us by Thy might, Great God, our King !
GLORY! GLORY! HALLELUJAH!
John Brown's body lies a-mould'ring in the grave, John Brown's body lies a-mould'ring in the grave, John Brown's body lies a-mould'ring in the grave, His soul is marching on.
Chorus.
Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! His soul is marching on.
The stars of heaven are looking kindly down, The stars of heaven are looking kindly down, The stars of heaven are looking kindly down, On the grave of old John Brown. Chorus. Glory ! etc.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord, He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord, He's gone to be a soldier in the army of the Lord, His soul is marching on. Chorus. Glory ! etc.
John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back, John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back, John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon his back, His soul is marching on. Chorus. Glory ! etc.
His pet lambs will meet him on the way, His pet lambs will meet him on the way, His pet lambs will meet him on the way, And they'll go marching on. Chorus. Glory ! etc.
We'll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree, We'll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree, We'll hang Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree, As we go marching on. Chorus. Glory ! etc.
RED, WHITE AND BLUE.
O Columbia, the gem of the ocean, The home of the brave and the free,- The shrine of each patriot's devotion,- A world offers homage to thee; Thy mandates make heroes assemble, When Liberty's form stands in view ; Thy banners make Tyranny tremble, When borne by the Red, White and Blue.
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Chorus. When borne by the Red, White and Blue, When borne by the Red, White and Blue; Thy banners make Tyranny tremble, When borne by the Red, White and Blue. When war waged its wide desolation, And threaten'd the land to deform, The ark then of Freedom's foundation,- Columbia,-rode safe thro' the storm; With her garlands of vict'ry around her, When so proudly she bore her brave crew, With her flag proudly floating before her, The boast of the Red, White and Blue.
Chorus.
The boast of the Red, White and Blue, The boast of the Red, White and Blue; With her flag proudly floating before her, The boast of the Red, White and Blue.
The wine cup, the wine cup bring hither, And fill you it true, to the brim; May wreaths they have won never wither, Nor the star of their glory grow dim; May the service united, ne'er sever, But they to their colors prove true ; The Army and Navy forever ! Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue.
Chorus.
Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue ! Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue ! The Army and Navy forever ! Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue !
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM.
Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
We will rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
Chorus.
The Union forever ! Hurrah, boys, Hurrah !
Down with the traitor, up with the star!
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
We are springing to the call of our brothers gone before, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a million freemen more,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
Chorus.
The Union forever ! Hurrah, boys, Hurrah !
Down with the traitor, up with the star! While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true and brave, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And altho' they may be poor not a man shall be a slave, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
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Chorus.
The Union forever ! Hurrah, boys, Hurrah !
Down with the traitor, up with the star! While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
So we're springing to the call, from the East and from the West, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love the best,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
Chorus.
The Union forever! Hurrah, boys, Hurrah!
Down with the traitor, up with the star!
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP! The Prisoner's Hope.
In the prison cell I sit,
Thinking, Mother dear, of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away, And the tears,-they fill my eyes, Spite of all that I can do,
Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.
Chorus.
Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! The boys are marching ! Cheer up, comrades, they will come, And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again, Of the free-land, in our own beloved home.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
In the battle-front we stood When their fiercest charge they made, And they swept us off, a hundred men or more, But before we reached their lines They were beaten back, dismayed, And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.
Chorus.
Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! The boys are marching! Cheer up, comrades, they will come, And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again, Of the free-land, in our own beloved home.
So within the prison wall We are waiting for the day That shall come to open wide the oaken door, And the hollow eye grows bright, And the poor heart almost gay, As we think of seeing home and friends once more.
Chorus.
Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! The boys are marching ! Cheer up, comrades, they will come, And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again, Of the free-land, in our own beloved home.
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. By JULIA WARD HOWE. Melody-" Glory! Glory! Hallelujah !"
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is tramping out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
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He has loosed the fearful lightning of His terrible swift sword.
His truth is marching on. Chorus. Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah !
Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! His truth is marching on.
I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps ; They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.
His day is marching on. Chorus. Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! His day is marching on.
I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on." Chorus. Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Since God is marching on.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ! He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat.
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! Be jubilant, my feet !
Our God is marching on. Chorus. Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Our God is marching on.
In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me. As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
Chorus. Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! Hallelujah ! While God is marching on.
THE VACANT CHAIR.
We shall meet, but we shall miss him, There will be one vacant chair ; We shall linger to caress him While we breathe our evening prayer. When a year ago we gathered, Joy was in his mild blue eye, But a golden cord is severed, And our hopes in ruin lie.
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Chorus. We shall meet, but we shall miss him, There will be one vacant chair; We shall linger to caress him While we breathe our evening prayer.
At our fireside, sad and lonely, Often will the bosom swell,
At remembrance of the story, How our noble Willie fell; How he strove to bear our banner Thro' the thickest of the fight,
And uphold our country's honor In the strength of Manhood's might.
Chorus.
We shall meet, but we shall miss him, There will be one vacant chair;
We shall linger to caress him While we breathe our evening prayer.
True, they tell us, wreaths of glory Ever more will deck his brow,
But this soothes the anguish only, Sweeping o'er our heart-strings now. Sleep to-day, O early fallen,
In thy green and narrow bed;
Dirges from the pine and cypress Mingle with the tears we shed.
Chorus.
We shall meet, but we shall miss him, There will be one vacant chair ; We shall linger to caress him While we breathe our evening prayer.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP GROUND.
We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground, Give us a song to cheer Our weary hearts, a song of home, And friends we love so dear.
Chorus.
Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, Wishing for the war to cease ; Many are the hearts that are looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace. Tenting to-night! Tenting to-night ! Tenting on the old camp ground !
We're tenting to-night on the old camp ground, Thinking of days gone by; Of the loved ones at home, that gave us the hand, And the tear that said " Good-bye."
Chorus.
Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, Wishing for the war to cease ; Many are the hearts that are looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace. Tenting to-night! Tenting to-night ! Tenting on the old camp ground !
We're tired of war, on the old camp ground, Many are dead and gone, Of the brave and true who've left their homes, And others been wounded long.
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Chorus.
Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, Wishing for the war to cease;
Many are the hearts that are looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace. Tenting to-night ! Tenting to-night! Tenting on the old camp ground !
We've been fighting to-day on the old camp ground, Many are lying near; Some are dead and some are dying, While many are in tears.
Chorus.
Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, Wishing for the war to cease ;
Many are the hearts that are looking for the right, To see the dawn of peace. Dying to-night! Dying to-night! Dying on the old camp ground !
WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME.
When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah! Hurrah !
We'll give him a hearty welcome then, Hurrah! Hurrah ! The men will cheer, the boys will shout, The ladies, they will all turn out, And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING. The old church bell will peal with joy, Hurrah ! Hurrah ! To welcome home our darling boy, Hurrah! Hurrah ! The village lads and lassies say, With roses they will strew the way, And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home.
Get ready for the Jubilee, Hurrah! Hurrah ! We'll give the hero "Three times three," Hurrah! Hurrah ! The laurel wreath is ready now, To place upon his loyal brow, And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home.
Let love and friendship, on that day, Hurrah! Hurrah ! Their choicest treasures then display, Hurrah! Hurrah ! And let each one perform some part, To fill with joy the warrior's heart, And we'll all drink stone blind When Johnny comes marching home.
SONG OF THE CAMP.
" Give us a song," the soldiers cried, The outer trenches guarding, When heated guns of the camps allied Grew weary of bombarding:
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THE DUTCHESS COUNTY REGIMENT. The dark Redan, in silent scoff, Lay grim and threatening under, And the tawny mound of the Malakoff, No longer belch'd its thunder.
There was a pause. A guardsman said: "We storm the forts to-morrow : Sing while we may, another day Will bring enough of sorrow." They lay along the battery's side, Below the smoking cannon :
Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde, And from the banks of Shannon.
They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie." Voice after voice caught up the song, Until its tender passion Rose like an anthem, rich and strong, Their battle-eve confession.
Dear girl, her name he dared not speak, But as the song grew louder, Something upon the soldier's cheek Washed off the stains of powder. Beyond the darkening ocean burned The bloody sunset's embers, While the Crimean valleys learned How English love remembers.
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And once again a fire like hell Rained on the Russian quarters, With scream of shot and burst of shell, And bellowing of the mortars ! And Irish Nora's eyes are dim, For a singer dumb and gory : And English Mary mourns for him Who sang of "Annie Laurie."
Sleep, soldiers, sleep ! in honored rest, Your truth and valor wearing : The bravest are the tenderest, The loving are the daring.
KINGDOM COMING.
Say, darkies, hab you seen old massa, Wid de muffstash on his face, Go long de road some time dis mornin', Like he gwine to leab de place ? He seen a smoke, way up de ribber, Whar de Linkum gumboats lay ; He took his hat, an' lef berry sudden, An' I spec he's run away !
Chorus. De massa run ? ha, ha ! De darkey stay? ho, ho! It mus' be now de kingdom comin', An' de year ob Jubilo !
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He six foot one way, four foot tudder, An' he weigh tree hundred pound, His coat so big, he couldn't pay de tailor, An' it won't go half way round. He drill so much dey call him Cap'n, An' he get so drefful tann'd, I spec he try an' fool dem Yankees For to tink he's contraband.
Chorus. De massa run, etc.
De darkies feel so lonesome libbing In de log house on de lawn, Dey move dar tings to massa's parlor For to keep it while he's gone; Dar's wine an' cider in de kitchen, An' de darkies dey'll hab some; I spose dey'll all be cornfiscated, When de Linkum sojers come. Chorus. De massa run, etc.
De oberseer he makes us trouble, An' he dribe us round a spell; We lock him up in de smoke-house cellar, Wid de key trown down de well. De whip is lost, de han'cuff broken, But de massa 'll hab his pay ; He's old enough, big enough, ought to know better, Dan to went an' run away.
Chorus. De massa run, etc.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
ANNIE LAURIE.
Maxwelton's banks are bonny, where early falls the dew; And 'twas there that Annie Laurie gave me her promise true,
Gave me her promise true, and ne'er forget will I,
But for bonnie Annie Laurie, I'd lay me down and die.
Her brow is like the snow-drift, her throat is like the swan;
Her face is as the fairest that e'er the sun shone on,
That e'er the sun shone on; and dark blue is her e'e;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie, I'd lay me down and die.
Like dew on the gowan lying is the fa' o' her fairy feet, And like winds in summer sighing, her voice is low and sweet ;
Her voice is low and sweet, and she's a' the world to me, And for bonnieAnnie Laurie, I'd lay me down and die.
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.
O! Say can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam- ing ?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the peril- ous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly stream- ing;
And the rocket's red glare, the bomb's bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there. O, say, does the star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?
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On the shore dimly seen through the mist of the deep,
Where's the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses ? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream.
'Tis the star-spangled banner! O, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more ?
Their Blood has washed out their foul footstep's pol- lution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
O, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation; Blessed with vict'ry and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto,-" In God is our trust ! "
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
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THE SONGS WE USED TO SING.
WHEN THIS CRUEL WAR IS OVER.
Dearest love, do you remember, When we last did meet, How you told me that you loved me, Kneeling at my feet ? Oh! how proud you stood before me In your suit of blue, When you vowed to me and country Ever to be true !
Chorus. Weeping sad and lonely,
Hopes and fears, how vain ! Yet praying, When this cruel war is over, Praying that we meet again !
When the summer breeze is sighing Mournfully along ; Or when autumn leaves are falling, Sadly breathes the song. Oft in dreams I see thee lying On the battle plain, Lonely, wounded, even dying, Calling but in vain. Chorus. Weeping, etc.
If amid the din of battle Nobly you should fall, Far away from those who love you, None to hear you call,-
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Who would whisper words of comfort? Who would soothe your pain ? Ah! the many cruel fancies Ever in my brain. Chorus. Weeping, etc.
But our country called you, darling- Angels cheer your way; While our nation's sons are fighting, We can only pray. Nobly strike for God and liberty, Let all nations see How we love the starry banner, Emblem of the free. Chorus. Weeping, etc.
CHAPTER XX.
PERSONAL SKETCHES.
JOHN HENRY KETCHAM.
1832-1906.
By HENRY B. KETCHAM.
The subject of this sketch was born at Dover Plains, New York, on December 21, 1832, the second son of John M. and Eliza A. (Stevens) Ketcham.
The family is descended from old English stock, and the first authentic record of it in the colonies is of the John Ketcham who emigrated to this country with the Pilgrim Fathers, and whose descendants subsequently settled in Connecticut. From there John Ketcham's descendants migrated to the south shore of Long Island, and there is an authentic record that the grandfather of John H. Ketcham lived, at the close of the Revolutionary War, at or near Babylon. In the latter part of that century he moved to the Harlem Valley and founded a general store, which was continued until the time of his death in 1872.
It was here that John H. Ketcham was born and married, and in this little community he reared and edu- cated his children. His early life was that common to the country boy of his time. He attended the District School and did chores about the place, the hardships en-
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countered at the formative period of his life being never lost upon him. They showed later when he had risen to a conspicuous place in the State and Nation, and his un- failing courtesy and kindly sympathy for others who came to him for aid won him many friends.
In addition to the meagre advantages of the District School John H. Ketcham attended the Amenia Seminary, then a noted academy in a section where educational advantages were few, and subsequently for one winter attended the Suffield Academy at Suffield, Conn., and one year at Worcester Seminary, at Worcester, Mass. These comparatively meagre advantages were supplemented by reading at night when the farm work was over; but very largely his education was acquired in the broad school of human experience.
Upon leaving Worcester Seminary he formed an asso- ciation in connection with his older brother, William, and acquired a farm which the two brothers worked together. Upon this farm there was located a marble quarry which was subsequently developed and made one of the leading industries of the neighborhood.
His townsfolk early recognized in John H. Ketcham qualities of industry and capacity for leadership, and in November, 1853, before he had attained his 2Ist birth- day, he was chosen to represent the Town of Dover in the Board of Supervisors at the County Seat. So well and so faithfully was this work done that in the fall of 1854 he was re-elected, and while still a member of this Board he was chosen a member of the State Legislature, being re-elected in the following year.
In 1857, and while but twenty-five years of age, he was the unanimous choice of his party for the State Senate,
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and was chosen by a substantial plurality, being at that time one of the youngest men who had ever been a mem- ber of that body. So satisfactory was his service to his constituency, and so devoted was he to their interests, that he was unanimously re-nominated and re-elected in 1859.
During his service in the State Legislature the business of the marble works and of the farm was continued and it prospered. After the outbreak of the War of the Rebellion, and upon the second call of President Lincoln for volunteers, John H. Ketcham was appointed by Edwin D. Morgan, the War Governor of New York, a mem- ber of the War Committee for Dutchess and Columbia Counties.
Among his associates on this Committee were Benson J. Lossing, noted as a historian, and James Emmott, then a Justice of the New York Supreme Court. All through the summer of 1862 John H. Ketcham labored incessantly with the work entrusted to him, and in the fall of that year, with his characteristic zeal and energy, he had com- pleted his quota with picked men, representing the best and most intelligent citizenship of the entire County.
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