noy, of Company K, the Martin Guards; Captain Ledbetter, of the Rutherford Rifles; Captains Kelly and Steele, of the Rock City Guards, and Captain Adkisson, of the Williamson Grays, and Captain Fulcher, and other names of brave and heroic men, some of whom live to-day, but many have crossed the dark river and are "resting under the shade of the trees" on the other shore, waiting and watching for us, who are left to do justices to their memory and our cause, and when we old Rebels have accomplished God's purpose on earth, we, too, will be called to give an account of our battles, struggles, and triumphs.
Reader mine, I fear that I have wearied you with too long a description of the battle of "Dead Angle," if so, please pardon me, as this is but a sample of the others which will now follow each other in rapid succession. And, furthermore, in stating the above facts, the half has not been told, but it will give you a faint idea of the hard battles and privations and hardships of the soldiers in that stormy epoch—who died, grandly, gloriously, nobly; dyeing the soil of old mother earth, and enriching the same with their crimson life's blood, while doing what? Only trying to protect their homes and families, their property, their Constitution and their laws, that had been guaranteed to them as a heritage forever by their forefathers. They died for the faith that each State was a separate sovereign government, as laid down by the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of our fathers.
BATTLE OF NEW HOPE CHURCH.
We were on a forced march along a dusty read. I never in my whole life saw more dust. The dust fairly popped under our feet, like tramping in a snow-drift, and our eyes, and noses, and mouths, were filled with the dust that arose from our footsteps, and to make matters worse, the boys all tried to kick up a "bigger dust." Cavalry and artillery could not be seen at ten paces, being perfectly enveloped in dust. It was a perfect fog of dust. We were marching
