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From the Rapidan to Richmond and the Spottsylvania

Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_.

Text enclosed by equal signs appeared as sidenotes in the original (=sidenote=).

FROM THE RAPIDAN TO RICHMOND

[Illustration: WILLIAM MEADE DAME

PRIVATE FIRST COMPANY OF RICHMOND HOWITZERS

1864]

FROM THE RAPIDAN TO RICHMOND

AND

THE SPOTTSYLVANIA CAMPAIGN

A Sketch in Personal Narrative of the Scenes a Soldier Saw

by

WILLIAM MEADE DAME, D. D. Private, First Company Richmond Howitzers

Baltimore Green-Lucas Company 1920

Copyright, 1920, by Harry B. Green

TO MY COMRADES OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA

[Illustration: WILLIAM MEADE DAME, D. D.

RECTOR MEMORIAL PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH

BALTIMORE, MD.

1920]

INTRODUCTION

By

Thomas Nelson Page

"The land where I was born" was, in my childhood, a great battleground. War--as we then thought the vastest of all wars, not only that had been, but that could ever be--swept over it. I never knew in those days a man who had not been in the war. So, "The War" was the main subject in every discussion and it was discussed with wonderful acumen. Later it took on a different relation to the new life that sprung up and it bore its part in every gathering much as the stories of Troy might have done in the land where Homer sang. To survive, however, in these reunions as a narrator one had to be a real contributor to the knowledge of his hearers. And the first requisite was that he should have been an actor in the scenes he depicted; secondly, that he should know how to depict them. Nothing less served. His hearers themselves all had experience and demanded at least not less than their own. As the time grew more distant they demanded that it should be preserved in more definite form and the details of the life grew more precious.

Among those whom I knew in those days as a delightful narrator of experiences and observations--not of strategy nor even of tactics in battle; but of the life in the midst of the battles in the momentous campaign in which the war was eventually fought out, was a kinsman of mine--the author of this book. A delightful raconteur because he had seen and felt himself what he related, he told his story without conscious art, but with that best kind of art: simplicity. Also with perennial freshness; because he told it from his journals written on the spot.


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