I have had this letter for several years, I cannot remember who sent it to me or who transcribed it. I beleive “Ward” may be kin to me since we are both from the same part of Mississippi and I am guessing a Ward relative sent this to me. I have not proved kinship yet.
Enjoy
GP
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“Dear Sirs: With eager interest I read your letter to our old friend and fellow comrade, T. J. Hooker, as published in the Press of the 18th, relative to the capture of the famous gun, Lady Richardson, on the 3rd of October, 1862.
“Being then a boy only sixteen and one-half summers, and on that eventful day scared into a duck fit, (for it was my first lesson in the use of carnal weapons, hence my embarrassment), you cannot expect me to remember all the details just as they occurred. You see we were too busy making history that day to write it up. I do not think that a more accurate account can possibly be given than the one you gave in your open letter to Tom Hooker.
“I remember the instance of Col. M. A. Oatis, as gallant a soldier as ever drew a sword, and also the bravery of a Federal soldier who, after firing the last shot, jumped astride his gun, (Lady Richardson), and swore he would die by it. Edward Ward, of our company, with his gun fixed bayonet, pointed at the man’s breast, when Lieut. Sutton snatched it from his hands and exclaimed, “Ward, that is too brave a man to kill!’ From the number of boys in blue who lay dead and dying around the Lady Richardson on that occasion, it is safe to conclude that the bravery was not all on one side.
“When on the field of conflict
The dead and dying lay,
Amongst them all was a drummer boy,
Who beat the drum that day.”
“And now, my good Doctor, I have clipped your appreciated letter and pasted it in my scrap book for my children and grandchildren to read after I shall have gone beyond the sunset.
“Your letter has kindled within me a desire that has long slumbered in my breast, and that is to participate in a grand reunion of the Confederate veterans of Lawrence County. Sometime during the month of July next, why can’t we have a meeting? Yes, let us have such a meeting, and spend at least one day and night together. One may ask, “Where could we find accommodation for such a crowd at night?’ Accommodation! Fiddlesticks! Let us camp in the woods and swing our haversacks on the bushes and sleep under the wide-spreading branches of the trees, around our camp fires; we will tell the story of seventy-five years ago, and sing of the ‘girl we left behind us.’ The dime eye and faltering step of many of those who still survive, speak of us in tones of sadness, saying, “Whatever thou doest, do quickly.’
“Yes, there is yet that iron had of fellowship, forged in the furnace of toil, and suffering, which binds our hearts together and makes us one forever.
“My eyes are getting a bit briny and I must close.
Yours Very truly,
J. A. Scarborough,
Bogue Chitto, Miss., March 29.
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