had been left on a point of the river to be picked up by an expected transport.  The regiment was attacked by a Confederate force of double or treble the number, the Southerners believing that there would be no difficulty in driving into the river this group of recent slaves.  On the first volley, practically all of the officers (who were white) were struck down and the loss with the troops was also very heavy.  The negroes, who had but made a beginning with their education as soldiers, appeared, however, not to have learned anything about the conditions for surrender and they simply fought on until no one was left standing.  The percentage of loss to the numbers engaged was the heaviest of any action in the War.  The Southerners, in their contempt for the possibility of negroes doing any real fighting, had in their rushing attack exposed themselves much and had themselves suffered seriously.  When, in April, 1865, after the forcing back of Lee’s lines, the hour came, so long waited for and so fiercely fought for, to take possession of Richmond, there was a certain poetic justice in allowing the negro division, commanded by General Weitzel, to head the column of advance.

Through 1862, and later, we find much correspondence from Lincoln in regard to the punishment of deserters.  The army penalty for desertion when the lines were in front of the enemy, was death.  Lincoln found it very difficult, however, to approve of a sentence of death for any soldier.  Again and again he writes, instructing the general in the field to withhold the execution until he, Lincoln, had had an opportunity of passing upon the case.  There is a long series of instances in which, sometimes upon application from the mother, but more frequently through the personal impression gained by himself of the character of the delinquent, Lincoln decided to pardon youngsters who had, in his judgment, simply failed to realise their full responsibility as soldiers.  Not a few of these men, permitted to resume their arms, gained distinction later for loyal service.

In December, 1862, Jefferson Davis issued an order which naturally attracted some attention, directing that General Benjamin F. Butler, when captured, should be “reserved for execution.”  Butler never fell into the hands of the Confederates and it is probable that if he had been taken prisoner, the order would have remained an empty threat.  From Lincoln came the necessary rejoinder that a Confederate officer of equal rank would be held as hostage for the safety of any Northern general who, as prisoner, might not be protected under the rules of war.

Lincoln’s correspondence during 1862, a year which was in many ways the most discouraging of the sad years of the war, shows how much he had to endure in the matter of pressure of unrequested advice and of undesired counsel from all kinds of voluntary advisers and active-minded citizens, all of whom believed that their views were important, if not essential, for the salvation of the state.  In September, 1862, Lincoln writes to a friend: