63rd New York Infantry Regiment's Civil War Newspaper Clippings

Army Correspondence.
July 30th, 1863.
FRIEND CUYLER,—After long and weary marches the Army of the Potomac has again come to a short halt to rest its war-worn veterans, and I take advantage of the short respite thus afforded to pen you a few lines. It is with feelings of pride that the soldiers belonging to the Army of the Potomac can point to their brilliant campaign of the last six or seven weeks, and although when marching orders arrived for them to leave their beautiful grounds on the banks of the Rappahannock, they were still harboring the most bitter feelings over the two disastrous retreats they had made when they crossed that fated river to attack the great Rebel works in December under Gen. Burnside, and in May under Gen. Hooker, yet the alacrity with which they obeyed the order, has only been equalled [sic] by the bravery and endurace [sic] they have since shown in their recent engagements with the enemy; but I do not here intend to give any detailed account of their action both on the march and in battle, as that has been oftener and much more ably done by the numerous correspondents of the Associated Press, and nothing from my humble pen could add anything to their already brilliant descriptions. I will content myself with a few minor incidents that may be interesting to you and your numerous readers, and that may have escaped the more able writers. 
Our battalion was consolidated with the 69th and 88th N. Y. V., for more effective service when in action, as the three battalions were all that was left of the once "Irish Brigade," and the strength of the three, when they were ordered into the engagement at Gettysburg, was only three hundred muskets.
Yet, as small as we were, the enemy found out to their cost that the same determined bravery was left in the three hundred they always found existed in the breasts of the three thousand Irishmen of that gallant brigade when they encountered them in deadly conflict in the Peninsula, and met them, face to face, on the bloody field of Antietam, under the generalship of "Little Mac," in the campaigns of '62.
Our loss at Gettysburg on the 2d and 3d of July, was very heavy, the 63d only numbering seventy-five men, including seven officers, lost twenty-five men in killed, wounded and missing. Amongst the wounded, I am sorry to say, was Lieut. Col. R. C. Bentley, of your city, who had, at the time, command of the three battalions, and a better nor braver man could not be found to draw a sword in the defence of his country. I hope soon to have the pleasure of informing you of the entire recovery of our gallant Lieutenant-Colonel, and of his return to duty. We can ill afford to spare such men from the field in the present disturbed state of the country. On the 3d day of July, as the army were laying behind the hastily thrown-up breastworks, preparatory to the renewal of the preceding day, our batteries being placed in the most advantageous position in rear of the infantry, we plainly saw by the commotion visible amongst the enemy that some daring move from their side was contemplated. And we had not long to wait, for soon we saw a long line of their skirmishers thrown out with the evident intention of attacking our works; the main body soon made their appearance, and the whole column advanced against us in fine order, in close column of their brigades, but when they reached good open ground our artillery poured into them at short range cannister and shot, and it was terrible to see the fearful gaps that would be made in their ranks at every discharge of our cannon. 
In order to save their men as much as possible from the fire of our artillery, the Rebels deployed column, closed up their broken ranks and advanced in one continuous line of battle; but they were a doomed set of men, for no sooner had they formed their new line than our infantry sprung from behind their breastworks, pouring into the advancing foe a fine volley, and then charging on them with fixed bayonets. But the enemy, discouraged from the galling fire of the infantry, did not wait for the charge, but broke in the greatest confusion. One whole brigade threw away their arms and voluntarily gave themselves up, bringing with them four stand of colors. Very few of the fine line that but an hour before advanced with the intention of capturing our batteries ever returned; their dead lay in heaps of fourteen and fifteen, and the ground in front of our breastworks was literally covered with killed and wounded. In conversation with some of the prisoners a short time afterwards, I learned that before the Rebels made the advance they were addressed by Gen. Frank Anderson, of Nicaraugua notoriety, who told them that if they showed bravery and determination they could easily capture our batteries and position, as the breastworks were only defended by the militia under Couch, and they were only "white-gloved soldiers" who would not fight. Little did they dream they would have the veteran soldiers of the Army of the Potomac.
I asked one of the prisoners what they intended to do when they advanced, and he plainly told me "that he was ordered to go with the rest, and he had to obey," adding "I candidly assure you I did not relish the job at all, but Gen. Lee threatened to turn his own artillery upon us if any showed evidence of cowardice." So you can see by this that a Rebel soldier's life must be a hard one and extremely dangerous, for they are by their own acknowledgments, continually between two fires--ours and their own; and often they conclude the safest way to end their troubles is by deserting from their hopeless cause and seeking refuge and protection through the lines of our army.
I remain yours, &c., Adjutant.
(Feb. 11, 1862)

COMPLIMENT TO BRIG. GENERAL MEAGHER—The officers of the Irish Brigade on Tuesday last, gave an entertainment to their Brigadier General Thomas Francis Meagher. The affair came off at Springfield Station, about five miles distant from Alexandria. Among the guests present were Generals Heintzleman, Shields, Howard, Richardson, Meagher, and Colonels Terry, Cass and others, A good time was had.

(Sept, 1862)
Obsequies of Officers of the Irish brigade.
The remains of the late Captain Kavanagh, of the Irish Brigade—a young and able officer, who fell in the battle field in defence of the constitution and laws of .... country, leaving an amiable wife and seven children to mourn his untimely fate—arrived in this city this morning from Washington, and were conveyed to the headquarters of the Irish Brigade, 596 Broadway, where they will lie in state until half-past nine o'clock tomorrow morning, when they will be conveyed to the Cathedral where a grand requiem high mass will be celebrated, at ten o'clock, with all the solemn ceremonies of the Catholic Church. All the officers of the brigade at present in the city are expected to attend the funeral. The escort will consist of members of the Sixty-ninth Militia. Everything that is necessary will be done to render the funeral of poor Kavanagh—the "Irish rebel" and the loyal Irish American—as imposing as possible. The remains of Captain Joyce will also be conveyed to the grave with those of the gallant young Kavanagh. The funeral of Lieutenant Lynch takes place at two o'clock to-day, from headquarters, 596 Broadway. The friends of Captain Kavanagh are invited to be present at the requiem mass.

The funeral of this gallant officer of the 63d regt. (Co. I), Irish Brigade, on Thursday last, was attended by a most respectable body of citizens, including his fellow exiles, Richard O'Gorman, John O'Mahoney, and John Savage; as also by his military friends, General Corcoran, Col. James Bagley, Lieut. Col. Matthew Murphy, and officers of the Irish Legion Capt. W. F. Lyons, Capt. B. S. Treanor, of Boston; Capt. James T. Maguire, 37th N. Y. Irish Rifles; also his personal friends of the daily and weekly Press, including Mr. P. J. Meehan, editor of the Irish American, and Gerald R. Lalor, late editor of the Irish News; Mr John Hennesey, the well known friend of the families of our Irish-American volunteers; and his son, Wm. J. Hennessy, the artist. The corpse, enclosed in a metallic coffin, was first taken from the headquarters of the Brigade, to St. Patrick's Cathedral, where a solemn High Mass was sung, for the repose of his soul, the Very Rev. William Starrs, D. D., being Celebrant, assisted by several other clergymen.—Rev. Dr. Starrs also delivered the funeral discourse. After the usual office for the dead was chanted the body was removed to the hearse and taken back to the headquarters of the Brigade where it was met by the funeral of Captain Joyce, and the procession formed. 
At the last meeting of the Fenian Brotherhood of Washington, D. C., held at their hall on E street, between Ninth and Tenth, the President, J. J, Kane, Esq., in the chair, the following tribute was paid to the memory of Capt. Kavanagh:—
" Resolved, That we deeply lament the death of the Irish patriot and exile, Capt. John Kavanagh, of the Sixty-ninth regiment, Irish Brigade, which occurred on the battle field on last Wednesday. Truly devoted to the cause of his dear native land for which he was an exile since 1848, he connected himself with our organization, of which he was an honored and trusted member from its start, and possessed the undivided friendship and esteem of his fellow patriot, our own President General, Mr. John O'Mahony."
Capt. Walsh, of the 84th regt. Penn. Vol., bore testimony in his eloquent language to the substance of the foregoing resolution, complimenting the Washington F. B.'s for remembering the services and virtues of Capt. Kavanagh, than whom few deserved to be more honored.

Letter from Colonel R. C. Bently.
NEAR U. S. FORD, Va., May 4th, 1863.
DEAR FATHER—We have had a terrible battle, lasting since Thursday. I went in yesterday, commanding the balance of my regiment and the 69th put together, about 160 men. We did not get under musketry fire, but the shelling was terrible. As I marched along the road to get in position, a shell struck in the centre of my line and killed one and wounded two men of the 69th. I received a piece of shell, burst in the air, on the head, which passed through the centre of the top of my hat, grazing my head, without cutting, out the side through the rim, and tore through my coat, vest and shirt, at the back of my left shoulder. I remained in command nearly an hour before I felt any effect, save a slight shock. The sun was very hot, and after getting them into the last position they occupied before being withdrawn, I sat down and keeled over and was taken to the rear. To-day I am all right, save some pain in the head and back, but nothing to notice. My regiment lost only one officer killed, and Capt. Lynch and one or more wounded. The enemy have fought desperately and their loss must be heavy.
R. C. B.

The Third Irish (or Sixty-third) regiment left their camp at David's Island yesterday morning, and came by boat to this city, en route for the seat of war. This makes the second regiment of the Irish brigade which has taken its departure, and the balance will follow as speedily as possible. Yesterday seemed particularly adapted in more senses than one for a military pageant. It was a day of Thanksgiving, and the mellow light of a brilliant sun lent a pleasing aspect to the green flag of Erin, the Stars and Stripes and picturesque uniforms of the gallant Third Irish, as they marched down Broadway to the place of embarkation. They arrived in the city about half-past one o'clock, and were on their march through Broadway shortly after two. It is scarcely necessary to remark here that our Irish population was but in full force, and that the progress of the regiment was impeded at every step by crowds of their relatives, friends and well wishers. It is also needless to describe the oft-repeated scenes of the poor fellows' wives joining the procession, with their babies in their arms, or of the rushing and crushing of their sweethearts into the ranks to snatch a perhaps final kiss from the dear objects of their affection. These scenes have been too frequently depicted in these columns to need a repetition here. Suffice it to say that their march down Broadway was one continuous ovation, and that the cheers which the multitude sent up as the regiment passed seemed to inspire the men with the fire of military ardor. Their excellent bearing, and the manner in which they marched, seemed to inspire every one who beheld them with a hearty admiration. 
On arriving at pier No. 1 North river the men were marched on board the boat, which soon got under way for Amboy, and from thence they proceeded to Washington. 
The regiment numbers 900 men, armed with Enfield and Belgian rifles, and uniformed like the Sixty-ninth. The following is a list of the officers:—
Field and Staff Officers—Colonel, Richard C. Enright; Lieutenant Colonel, Henry Fowler; Major, Thomas F. Lynch; Adjutant, Thomas W. Cartwright; Quartermaster Philip O'Hanlon; Surgeon, David Reid Shanahan; Assistant
Surgeon, George G. Gilligan; Medical Cadet, Charles O'Hanlon.
Company A—Captain, Joseph O'Neil; First Lieutenant, J. McDonough; Second Lieutenant, Thos. Toohy. 
Company B—Captain, John Warren: First Lieutenant, Philip Connelly; Second Lieutenant, Cook Malley.
Company C—Captain, John Charles Lynch; First Lieutenant, Richard L. Ryan; Second Lieutenant, Horace A. Russell.
Company D—Captain, Geo. Tobin; First Lieutenant, John Flynn; Second Lieutenant, James J. McCormick.
Company E—Captain, James J. Prendergast; First Lieutenant, P. J. Gormley, Jr.; Second Lieutenant, Richard P. Moore.
Company F—Captain, James McCaffrey; First Lieutenant, Wm. Tennon; Second Lieutenant, P. J. Lydon.
Company G—Captain, P. S. Condon; First Lieutenant, John Cauty; Second Lieutenant, George Lynch. 
Company H—Captain, Michael Walsh; First Lieutenant, John Glessen; Second Lieutenant, Cadwalder Smith.
Company I—Captain, James O'Sullivan; First Lieutenant, Wm. Meehan; Second Lieutenant, Silas C. Herring, Jr.
Company K—Captain, James Branagan; First Lieutenant, Sullivan; Second Lieutenant, McConnell.

Of Co. F, 63d Regiment N. Y. S. Y., who was wounded slightly in the leg, in the battle of Antietam, wrote home to Albany from the hospital at Keedysville on the same day, thus:—
" We have fought the enemy, and our brigade has been cut to pieces! Every man of my company has either been killed or wounded, with the exception of eleven. I received a. rifle shot in the left thigh, going completely through—fortunately without touching the bone. Poor Lieut. Henry McConnell was shot through the brain, and never spoke again. P. W. Lyndon, my First Lieutenant, was shot through the heart. Only one Captain (O'Neil) remained on the field. James De Lacey is killed—as also Tim. Kearns. Lieut. Sullivan, Terry, Murray, and the two Mahers, are all safe. Major Bentley is slightly wounded. Sergeant John Dwyer (printer) is wounded in the head. Sergeant Major Quick and M. McDonald are not touched. All the line officers of our regiment are either killed or wounded, save one Captain and five Lieutenants.
" * * * At this moment (10 A. M.) my wound is not yet dressed; but it gives me only slight inconvenience. I expect to leave here for Frederick to night, and from thence, probably, home for a season. Those mentioned above are the only Albanians of whom I have positive knowledge at this writing; but I will endeavor to account for them all."

mentioned in my second letter, instead of having been killed, as at first reported, was severely wounded in the thigh, but hopes are entertained of his final recovery. The sadly reduced Brigade cannot afford to lose so good an officer.

N. Y. S. V.
Major Bentley commends to the notice of the proper authorities the name of Sergeant Wm. Daly, of Co. K, 68d Regiment. He was the Color Sergeant of the 63d at the battle of Antietam. He bore the colors into the action, but was wounded at the first fire. While the wound was being dressed, the colors fell seventeen times, and were as often raised. Sergeant Daly then returned, and though wounded, succeeded in bearing the colors from the field, though torn into ribbons and the staff battered by the enemy's fire. Sergeant Daly's residence is in Jefferson street, Albany. The gallant fellow served under Col. Bryan in the first three months' campaign of the 25th Regiment N. Y. S. M. He ought to be made a captain instantly.

LETTER FROM COL. RICHARD C. BENTLEY.—The following letter has been received by C. W. Bentley, Esq., from his son, Col. Richard C. Bentley:
NEAR U. S. FORD, Va., May 4, 1863.
DEAR FATHER—We have had a terrible battle, lasting since Thursday. I went in yesterday, commanding the balance of my regiment and the 69th put together, about 160 men. We did not get under musketry fire, but the shelling was terrible. As I marched along the road to get in position, a shell struck in the centre of my line and killed one and wounded two men of the 69th. I received a piece of shell, burst in the air, on the head, which passed through the centre of the top of my hat, grazing my head, without cutting out the side, through the rim, and tore through my coat, vest and shirt, at the back of my left shoulder. I remained in command nearly an hour before I felt any effect, save a slight shock. The sun was very hot, and after getting them into the last position they occupied before being withdrawn, I sat down and keeled over and was taken to the rear. To-day I am all right, save some pain in the head and back, but nothing to notice. My regiment lost only one officer killed, and Capt. Lynch and one or more wounded. The enemy have fought desperately and their loss must be heavy.

Of the 63rd Regiment, N.Y.S. Volunteers, (Meagher's Brigade), an excellent officer, was slightly wounded in the arm, in the battle of Antietam. The home of the gallant Major is in Albany. He writes thither, from Keedysville,
Md., Sept. 25, saying:—
" I trust, when the full report of the battle is made, justice will be done and honorable mention to the Governors of States will be made of officers who distinguished themselves for coolness and bravery. In this class stands Lieut. Col. Fowler, of our Regiment. When the heaviest fire was making terrible gaps in our right wing, a single volley cutting down nearly the whole wing, he was close upon the line, rallying the scattered few who but for his example and direction (the line officers being nearly all killed or wounded,) would have become useless or sacrificed. But there were many examples of heroism in the line; of the officers present not an exception can be named. Albany had her share of heroes Capt. O'Sullivan, Lieut. O'Sullivan, and Lieut. McConnel were there and nobly did their duty. The death of the latter occasions great regret, as he had won, by his attention to duty and unassuming manner, the respect of all. He died with his armor on, at his post, killed instantly."

Of Co. G, 63rd Regiment N. Y. Vols., who was in command of Co. B, was killed in the battle of Antietam. Your correspondent can bear testimony to the high personal and professional character of this officer. He was a man of more than the average height; well-built; of dark complexion; quiet, retiring habits, but brave as a lion in action, and as true as steel, in friendship. He was about thirty-years of age. His remains were brought to the house of his afflicted mother, in the city of Brooklyn, and thence, on Thursday, Oct. 2, to Flatbush Cemetery, where they were finally interred. May his soul rest in peace.

RETURNED HOME.—We see that Sergeant McGuirk, of the 63d N. Y. S. V., (Irish Brigade) has reached his home in this city, having been honorably discharged from the service for disability. He has seen much hard fighting since the commencement of the war, having been all through the Peninsular campaign, and was one of the bravest and most active in his regiment. The Sergeant is worthy of promotion, and should ....

(By Our Own Correspondent.)
We left, if you will be kind enough to remember, the Brigade moving ahead, to occupy front line of the Division, the order having been conveyed from General Richardson to General Meagher by Captain McMahon. Caldwell's Brigade was to form the second line behind us, and the third was to be held by French's old Brigade, now commanded by Colonel Brooke. After crossing the creek the country was rolling, hill succeeding hill in quick and rapid succession. We moved by the flank for a considerable distance, then on approaching the enemy the advance was made in line, the four regiments of the Brigade forming one continued, uninterrupted, serried and strong prolongation. The 69th Regt., under command of Colonel James Kelly, was on the right, Major Cavanagh, acting Lieutenant-Colonel, and Captain Duffy, acting Major. Next to them came the 29th Mass. Vols., commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Barnes; then the 63d, Colonel Burke; and on the left of the 63d, was the 88th Regt., led by Lieutenant-Colonel Patrick Kelly—Major Quinlan acting Lieutenant-Colonel, and Captain Horgan, acting Major.
Moving along, the shot and shell of the enemy poured over our heads, and crashed in the hollows in the rear, or among the occasional trees behind; on the right, the sound of musketry was deafening, and the Brigade soon came within range of the enemy's small arms. The advance, however, was uninterrupted, unbroken, although it had to be made under many difficulties, the chief of which was the close, compact, and strong fences, which impeded the progress of the men, and the crossing of which, of course, caused a momentary derangement of the dressing. But once across, we were soon in order again, and moving onward with precision. All this time the bullets are whirring about, an occasional wounded man fall down and is borne to the rear;—but we have not yet commenced to fire. Suddenly, as if planted there in defiance, the flags of the rebel regiments, on the rising ground, are waving within easy distance—ours float as proudly, as steadily in line. The fire as we mount the slope is terrific, but the advance never falters or wavers. The effect of the enemy's fire is fearful. Time and again are the color-bearers of the 63d and 88th shot down, and the colors, on the point of touching the ground, are caught up and borne firmly by the brave fellows near them. On the right of the line, the 69th are going through a similar shower of death; their color-bearers are shot down, but before the standards touch the ground they are caught up by Captain M'Gee, and are carried by him in front of the regiment. Lieutenant-Colonel James Kelly is in command to-day; pressing ahead he receives two wounds in the face, one immediately under the eye, the other in the jaw. He remains at his post until it is impossible to do so any longer. Major Cavanagh, who seems to bear a charmed life, takes command, Captain Felix Duffy, acting Major, is shot dead; and still the fight goes on—the Brigade pushing up the hill slowly, steadily, surely, pouring into the ranks of the enemy a deadly and telling fire. On the left the 88th are marching along with their characteristic gallantry—the only difficulty the officers have is to restrain the men from going individually ahead to fight the battle on their own responsibility. There is a cluster of trees, not more than three or four, on the top of the hill, opposite the centre of the regimental line. The rebels have taken shelter there, and pour into our ranks a continuous fire that is galling and fatal. Several of the "faug-a-bealaes" rush ahead to take the rebels at close quarters, and it requires all the determination and firmness of Lieutenant-Colonel Patrick Kelly to keep them in line. I know Sergeant Granger others were almost on the brow of the hill, carried away by their enthusiasm, before the voice of the Colonel calling them by their names, caused them to halt and rejoin their companies. The rebel bullets do not spare the 88th. Lieutenant Egan, commanding Co. G, is shot down, receiving a musket ball in the ankle, which breaks the bones of the leg, instantly disabling him from further duty. The Lieutenant had only reported for duty a few days before, having returned recovered from wounds received at the battle near Savage's station, June 30, 1862. Lieutenant Gallagher immediately took command of the Company, which he headed through all the engagements from Savage's Station to Harrison's Landing, gaining for himself the almost unbounded esteem of his commanding officers and comrades. Writing to the subscriber, he regrets his absence, and says—"The leaden hail fell thick and fast, and never before were the horrors of war so strongly impressed upon my mind. As comrade after comrade fell and was passed over, you could still hear our boys say, 'On! on our banners are inscribed 'no retreat,' and the motto shall never be falsified.' I heard one enthusiastic youth say, 'Come on, Jackson: Shields whipt you at Winchester, and Meagher will thrash you at Sharpsburg.' Our boys thought that Jackson was pitted against them, and fought with double daring. They never came up to my style of fighting until that day at Antietam.'' Remember this is from the pen of a cool, cautious, competent officer, who never exaggerates, but is always on the moderate side. His idea of fighting is somewhat lofty, and when you recollect that the Regiment has been through ten engagements of importance, gaining each occasion the praise, esteem, and admiration of all the generals and officers who witnessed their dash and gallantry—this opinion of our friend is worth something, and is worthy of consideration. Every succeeding battle only increases the courage, steadiness and endurance of the 88th, as of the other regiments of the Brigade, and the only sorrowful thought that intrudes itself is that when they have reached the highest point of perfection, when their wild cheer and unwavering front are seen advancing most grandly in line, their green banners waving amid the smokey air of battle, there will be, alas! very few remaining to receive their laurel crowns, or relate the labors of fallen comrades. Koerner's, after all, is the true idea of the soldier's life. All his campaigning is his courtship, and the day of battle is his bridal day, when he is wedded to his mistress—Death. Twice joyful is it, indeed, to him if the glad light of victory shine upon his face, and if the opening echoes of a grand renown which shall traverse down to far and future ages break upon his failing sense.
The enemy's fire still tolls upon our ranks—many a brave fellow goes down unnamed to his doom. Captain Clooney receives a bullet through the knee: the pain is torturing, terrible. The proud phrenzy of the fight is upon him. Friends and comrades entreat him to go to the rear and have his wound dressed. He does not hear or heed them. He seizes the colors and hobbles along on one leg, waving the green flag that he loves so well far in front of the line. Almost more than most men he revels in the grandeur of a battle; the whirring of the bullets is music to his ears. In the position described, exulting in the triumph of the day, two musket balls strike him; one enters his brain, the other his heart, and he falls dead. So on the left of the regimental line, we have Egan stricken down, at the centre, Clooney, and now on the right, much time not intervening, Captain Joyce, one of the youngest, bravest, and most skilful officers of the Brigade, is struck down, and dies without a groan. Of the dead I shall speak anon. The living who seem to hear some talisman to safety, deserve mention, for better men never drew sword nor strove for victory. Horgan, McCarten, Ryder, Young, O'Brien, Burke, Byron, and others, who escape without a scratch in a fight where over every third man falls. As for Colonel Kelly and Major Quinlan, they seem to he invulnerable—bullets having no effect upon them. In the 63d, Lieut.-Colonel Fowler, Major Bentley, Captain Condon, are wounded severely. Captain O'Neill's Company on the right, is annihilated. He comes to the left of his regiment, where Lieutenant-Colonel Fowler and Major Bentley are: "You must give me another command—not one of our Company remains able to do duty." He had another command very soon. Lieutenant-Colonel Fowler and Major Bentley are wounded, and have to go to the rear. Captain O’Neill takes command of all that remains of the regiment. The right wing is completely gone, and only a portion of the left is still standing--the others have been either killed or wounded. Lieutenant Lynch is still standing, and Lieutenant Moore, as cool and brave as if on parade, is all right. Captain Miller, the Assistant Adjutant-General of the Brigade, has had his horse shot under him; Lieutenant Gosson's horse is also shot; Lieutenant Mackey is wounded severely in the thigh. Thus all the members of General Meagher's staff are hors de combat; the General, exposing himself everywhere, has not received a touch. Shortly after, however, his horse is shot, falls heavily upon the rider, who is taken up insensible from the effect of the pressure of the pommel of the saddle upon his chest and carried to the rear. Happily he is not seriously injured. For two days his extremities were paralyzed, but the resources of a sound system, of a constitution capable of enduring almost any amount of fatigue, hardship and injury, came to his aid, and the General is now at his post unharmed by the perils and dangers of the battle of Antietam.
About noon the Brigade was relieved by the Brigade of General Caldwell, which took up the position we had occupied and continued to hold it. Towards evening Meagher's Brigade was called upon once more, and going to the front again held the ground all through the night. General Richardson, who was severely wounded—very much to the grief of the men, who admire his lighting qualifications—personally thanked the Brigade, and especially remembered the 88th Regiment.

If I cannot give a connected and complete account of the great battle of the 17th, inasmuch as owing to circumstances I witnessed only about the half of it, yet can I speak of and do some small justice to a few of our Irish dead of that day. Many of them I knew personally, intimately and well. I have seen them in situations that tried of what stuff a man was made, and that having been discovered, tested it to the very uttermost. I have known them all through the campaigns of McClellan, and even before the active labors of the Brigade began, I remember them as connected with the bright days and jovial nights in Fort Schuyler. For many months, in the columns of this paper and elsewhere, I have in a slight way chronicled the scenes in which they were the actors, related a very few of their labors, detailed some of the dangers they passed through, and the bravery, endurance, and other suggestions in relation to his command, received for answer from the commanding General: "That all he asked for should be given him; that any suggestion he would make should be immediately attended to."
The President, who was jocular, as usual, stopped with General Sumner over night, and, it is needless to add, was well received by the troops, as he was pleased to see the men, or the remnants of them, who drove the rebels from Maryland. We expect to see something of his visit in the papers in a few days.
Our Brigade has got new clothing; are now attending church, and look well. We expect a visit from General Shields this week; for between him and Gen. Meagher there exists a rivalry of true friendship.
This is a lovely scene, and I understand a picnic on a large scale, is in anticipation from New York, to visit here. If so, it will be a great treat to see the grandest of natural pictures—the town of Harper's Ferry, and the now historic "Irish Brigade." 
By-the-by, General Meagher, with that true love of the Irish name at heart, wishes that several Irish Brigades be organized [sic]—say with his one for General Corcoran, one for Colonel Mulligan, one for General Sweeney, one for Colonel Nugent, who will soon be a Brigadier, find one for any other deserving Irishman—all to be made into an army corps, and placed under command of the brave General Shields, who is the acknowledged military head and front of our race on this Continent. What think you and all the Irish people of this arrangement? It is in my mind the suggestion of one who, denying self, wishes to concentrate our strength and give the glory to the "old land;" besides, it will be the means of preventing factious rivalry or distinctive organizations. It would be a glorious concentration, a glorious unity.
I have to regret the loss of a brave companion in arms, at least for some time to come. Lieut. John Gosson, first aid to Gen. Meagher, is on his way home, having broken his collar bone, and being otherwise badly injured by a fall; his horse stumbled and fell while galloping over a bad road, rolling over the lieutenant, who is a daring rider; and thus he who passed unscathed through every battle-field, is now laid on the shelf for a time by this accident. We went through the Peninsula together, comforted one another in sleepless nights, in hungry days, on battle-fields, and through every arduous duty and trying ordeal. Need I say how anxiously his return is longed for?
Captain Clooney, of the 88th, who fell at Antietam—I believe now the only officer whose remains yet rest on the battle-ground (he having no relatives at this side of the water, coming directly from Ireland to join the Brigade)—is about being sent forward to your city for interment, the men of the regiment, or of the whole Brigade, in fact, insisting that their late brave companion in arms shall rest in Calvary Cemetery with his co-patriots. His body will be forwarded forthwith, and they solicit for his remains the same kind attention with which his late brother officers' remains were received. It will be remembered he was one of the Pope's Brigade—a kind friend, a brave Irish soldier. May he rest in peace. Long will his cheerful smile be remembered by not only the men of the 88th, but by all who knew him.
Manahan's drums and fifes are this moment in hearing, as they play home the Brigade from church; and cheering is the sound, the day delightful, the walk inspiring. Amidst all its difficulties, dangers and toils, the soldier's life has its moments of pleasure, recreation, and true manly feeling and pride.
A rule seems to have been established by the general, from which he will very reluctantly deviate—it is to fill all vacancies in commissions by promotions from the non-commissioned officers and the ranks. By this means he is rewarding brave men, and giving the proper inducement for soldiers to deeds of daring. "The hope of reward sweetens labor." He will likewise make his army a Brigade of Braves.
I saw a document from Lieut.-Col. Fowler, of the 63d, in which he says his colors went down sixteen times, and were as often quickly raised, pressed forward, and even shook in the face of the enemy. The Colonel himself is badly wounded, so is his Major, Bently [sic], leaving that brave fellow, Capt. O'Neill, in command of the regiment, who, having lost all his company on the left, made his way to the right and asked a command from Lieut. Gleason, who at this time commanded the regiment, or at least the remaining right wing of it.
I thank you much for the papers you sent me, and allow me through your journal to thank J. D. C., a kind, very kind friend, for the careful remembrance of me, in sending me all the Boston papers—they are a great treat indeed; nothing could be more considerate, more desirable, nor more gratefully received Lumley, the pictorial draftsman, has taken a sketch of our encampment, which, I presume, will appear in due time in Frank Leslie, or in the New York Illustrated News. He, you know, is a perfect master of his business. I have no doubt it will be worth seeing.
I have just learned that those noble, untiring fellows in Washington are after positively recovering the remains of my old friend Devin Riley, of whom I would like to write a chapter, and certainly will embrace an opportunity of doing so at my earliest convenience. Doheny is gone, Williams (Shamrock) is gone, Brennan is gone, Riley is gone, Kavanagh is now no more—one by one they drop off—the true representative men of Irish feeling, Irish sentiment, the incomparable men of 1848. The Irish confederates, of whose memory the living may well be proud; for from Davis, Mitchel, Duffy, and Meagher, down to the humblest of them all, we may never see their likes again. A galaxy of brightness, a constellation in the heaven of literature—bold and defiant in their patriotism—the pride of Fatherland—the hope of Ireland's future. I ardently trust that the men of Washington will consider well of their charge, and enable those who loved Devin Riley to contribute a small amount to a fitting monument to his memory. All we Irishmen seemingly can do at this side of the water is to receive the living and bury tour dead patriots, hoping the time is not far distant when ours may and will be a different line of action.
I have just seen a letter in the Delaware Republican, which I enclose to you, in which some poor, miserable greenhorn, some "Johnny Raw," writes that the "Irish Brigade" were not more than twenty minutes in the field before they were broken by the concentrated fire of the enemy, and their colors left lying upon the ground. Whoever this unfortunate recruit is, it is well for him that he is not within our reach, or his probosis may have an extenuation. He further says, his company lost five, none of whom, however, were killed, four wounded and one missing. Now, is it not lamentable that we feel constrained to notice those Deleware [sic] and Rhode Island small fry? I hope, however, that the Republican's correspondent, with the Irish name, may see your journal, when, if not convinced that he was in error in relation to the "Irish Brigade," he may be made to understand that he must know in future what he writes about. The Irish Brigade lost whole companies. The poor, miserable 2d, of Deleware [sic], were not near them in the field, nor fitted to be their associates in arms. I am not certain but I may at some future day make this article, if not the subject of a Court of Enquiry—the subject of come more peremptory reproof—a lesson to letter-writers from the army, that lauding themselves must not be done at the expense of acknowledged brave men. Return me the letter I send you—I will keep it for further use. I have written a long letter; excuse it; while I remain yours, as ever,

.... much as any other man that ever lived was he carried away by what I call the phrenzy of battle, which is simply taking a wild and wonderful delight in the fight, and in doing high and heroic deeds therein. In obedience to the martial spirit that was in him, when a very young man, he volunteered his services and entered the Irish Brigade in the service of the Pope, when the States of the Church were menaced, and when the title of Pius the Ninth to the city of Rome was about to be jeopardized [sic]. Here he saw considerable services, gained some experience of battles and sieges, and of military movements. Having returned from the Italian wars to Ireland, and hearing of the commencement of hostilities in America, he immediately sailed for this country, with the intention of once more resuming the profession he so much loved. At the time he landed in New York, Captain Meagher was then engaged in organising [sic] his company of Zouaves for the 69th Regt. To fight for the Republic in any event was his desire. Who then can portray the feelings of his passionate Irish heart, when an opportunity to serve under such a leader presented itself. For years his dream had been to draw a sword in Ireland's cause; in his soul the poetry and eloquence of Young Ireland had nourished with a fond hope of realization [sic]; and now, if he was not fighting for her, he was at least upholding, under the guidance of the tribune who had trained his youth, the flag that had sheltered the Emmets and the exiles of latter days. 
The exploits of the 69th Regiment are well known to and appreciated by all our people. Whatever the renown the regiment gained, Clooney has a right to share it; whatever duty it performed, whatever risks were run, whatever labors, in marching, in picketing, in trench digging, were accomplished by it—in all these Clooney was a working and a willing participant.
Some time after the return of the three months' volunteers, it was proposed to raise an Irish Brigade. The announcement gave gladness and hope to numbers of brave young Irishmen, who could not, under any circumstances, feel so satisfied or so eager for fame in any, even the most liberal, American organization [sic], as when associated with their own countrymen. Their gladness and hope was excessive beyond estimation, because its founder and organiser [sic] was Thomas Francis Meagher. The best and brightest of them had visions of a new Brigade, and new campaigns, rivalling [sic] those of the eighteenth century. They were confident of their pluck and powers of endurance; and as the story of our degradation had been yelled round the world by a brutal press and hirling writers, they rejoiced at the opportunity afforded them of proving that, in point of bravery and courage, they were not far behind those heroes to whom have been accorded for generations the best praise of the best Europeans.
It is not purposed to give here a sketch of the Irish Brigade in America, nor to estimate or enumerate its labors. It is time enough for that. But it is permitted to state that of the two regiments to be raised in New York, the 69th and the f88th, the latter was "Meagher's Own," and the General selected for its officers the members of his own old Zouave company, of whose gallantry, chivalry, intelligence, and discretion he was personally cognizant [sic]. He knew them individually and intimately; he took a pride in them, inasmuch as to some extent they were his own children. From him and from his brother patriots of '48, they had learned and imbibed all that was passionately and purely Irish in their natures. They were all devotedly and personally attached to himself, and if any thing mortal could be relied upon, certainly here were the men. Time and death have sanctified and justified the choice. The glorious deaths of King at Fair Oaks, of O'Donoghue at Malvern Hill, of Joyce and Clooney at Antietam, the gallant bearing of those who still live, through the campaigns and battles of the war, are evidences sufficient of the bravery and military bearing of these young Irishmen. The fiery ordeals through which this regiment has gone—more than any other in the Brigade--leave no doubt on the minds of cautious and impartial observers.
Of all these gallant dead and living, none more strongly exemplified the dash and desperate valor of the true Celtic soldier than did Clooney. Indeed, in reflecting upon all of his life that we are acquainted with, to glean and gather the great striking points of his character, we are above all things impressed with the consciousness of his dashing and brilliant courage. He is remembered at Fair Oaks, when the regiment held a splendid position in the railway cut, as mounting the embankment, bearing the green flag of the regiment in his hands, and waving it defiantly in the face and fire of the enemy, who were drawn up in the belt of timber on the other side of a small garden. Not to particularise from that time—the 1st of June—to the 27th, when the labors of the front were exacting, his coolness, courage, promptitude, and punctuality in the performance of all duties, were in consonance with his high ideas of a soldier's life. Through all the battles his figure was prominent, his voice was potential and powerful. Few will ever forget the evening at Malvern Hill. The gloom of the evening settling down upon the earth; the brow of thee hill one sheet of flame, belched forth from the mouths of innumerable cannon; the air tremulous with the detonations of the musketry; the 88th advancing under the shower of bullets; at the centre was Clooney, close to the colors, cheering on the men. From there to Antietam, where he fell mortally wounded, space is wanting to record his devotion. The calm and unembellished recital of the events of his death is the best eulogy of the man, as it is the best index to his soldierly qualities. Struck in the knee, and severely wounded unto lameness, besought by every one to go to the rear and have it attended to, he peremptorily refused to go. He seizes the colors, when the color-bearer was shot down, and in this position, limping on one foot, his voice still ringing, hopeful, resonant, he is struck by two bullets—one in the head, another in the breast—and fall down still, and stark and cold, the lifeless hand holding, with the grip of fate, the Green Banner which in life he loved so well.
So ends the record. But there is another phase of this man's life, which I have only alluded to—his passionate and pure love of Ireland, his pride in the poetry, and eloquence, and courage of her sons. I have spoken of his rich, ringing, musical voice. I can give you no idea of its melody. He was a natural orator—and language of the richest and most gorgeous description, almost Oriental in its irredescent [sic] splendor, flowed in rhythmic ....
from his lips. The war poetry of Davis was his favorite; and, knowing the gallantry of the man, one could and did appreciate and applaud the passion—because it was real—which he flung into the most stirring passages. Hearing his fine voice, listening to its full tones in joy or grief, thinking of the man and trying to account for his gifts—they were natural, not acquired—the only reasonable conclusion you could arrive at was, that he was really descended from one of the old Bardic families of the Island, and that his heart, and soul, and mind were purified and ennobled by a grander idea than theirs of what Ireland should be.
Knowing all the excellencies of the man's life; knowing his bravery, his loving Irish heart and nature, his gallantry and devotion to every good cause, it was right and proper that there should be such a cortege as that of yesterday. It was right and proper—albeit the day was raw and cold—that the black plumed hearses, the carriages, the civilians, the escort of wounded comrades, should crowd and throng the grandest thoroughfare of the Republic, to do you honor, O! brave and loyal soldier. The sad music, the solemn yet profound faces swept the heart of the passing strangers, and they stopped to ask whom the city honored to-day. After all probably, the truest and tenderest tribute to your worth were the liquid eyes of those who never knew you, answering, "They are going to bury, this day, in Calvary, Captain Patrick Felan Clooney, a brave officer of the Irish Brigade, who was killed in battle."

HARPER'S FERRY, VA., Oct. 5th, 1862.
To the Editor of the Irish-American.
Our portion of the army still remain here, and, judging from present appearances, will remain for some time. The Brigade needs recruiting in men, and a rest is indeed most needful to those veterans who have gone through a dreary winter on the Peninsula, and done the fighting before and since the retreat from Richmond.
The President reviewed the troops on October 1st, with the General of the soldier's heart (George B. McClellan). I need not say they were warmly received. Next day, the 2d, the President visited Loudon Heights, the highest of those mountains, and there reviewed the command of General Geary. The ascent to this mountain is a most difficult, stony, and toilsome one. It was the position abandoned by our troops and occupied by Jackson, from whence he demanded the surrender of Harper's Perry, it being the commanding position. Of that surrender I have but one opinion: it was either treason or incapacity. Gen. Geary has 2,000 men there now, and will not give it up to Jackson with 50,000 men. 
From thence we visited Maryland Heights on the opposite side of the river, for you must know the junction of the Shenandoah with the Potomac makes three distinct waters here and from Loudon Heights, Va., to Maryland Heights and Maryland Mountain, you have to cross two bridges. Here we found the command of General Williams, which, while reviewing, it struck me I knew the faces of one regiment, and leaving the cortege of the President, I returned and asked what regiment it was, and received for answer—it was the 2d Massachusetts, Colonel Andrews. If you know the feeling of thus meeting old faces or friends, you can then judge how the thrill of pleasure runs through the heart, and warms even the blood—it is the love of home, that all-inspiring love of home, of which poets have sung, which creates this feeling. I had an opportunity afterwards of a conversation with Col. Andrews, who joined the cortege, and, of course, our thoughts and words were of home—of Boston. Boston, "with all thy faults, I love thee still." 
General Meagher seemed to engross most of the President's time during these long rides not indeed by his own apparent desire, but by the President’s solicitation. I need not add that General McClellan is likewise his warm admirer. The General having solicited leave to make brave non-commissioned officers, commissioned lieutenants, and captains, with dauntless courage with which they served the land of their adoption. The first image that presents itself to me is that of a young man,—he was then just twenty-one,—with a clear complexion, bright beaming blue eyes, and hair of the color called auburn: his was so beautiful that I never looked at it—and I have observed it millions of times with pleasure and delight—without recalling immediately those fine lines of Ferguson—
" My Owen Bawn's hair is like a thread of gold spun, 
It's brown in the shadow and yellow in the sun." 
His height was medium, his figure burly, his step firm and determined, and an observing eye could discern a bearing and carriage of the person which told as plain as so manywords that JOHN O'CONNELL JOYCE had a keen and true sense of his dignity as a man and as an officer, and that he was determined at all hazards to maintain it. This time twelve-months you could see him often, his uniform en regie, his sword by his side, and his sash gaily tied—for, like a good soldier, he took a pride in his personal appearance. Well, just this time a year ago you could see him often at General Meagher's headquarters, 59 Broad- way, the Park recruiting, on the General Arthur, and at Fort Schuyler drilling his company, as he knew well how to do, for he was ever an apt military student and knew well how indispensable to success was a rigid attention to tactics and discipline, the distinction between which he thoroughly understood and appreciated. After leaving New-York the regiment went direct to Camp California, where by the same attention detail and duty he, his Captain, O'Donohue, who was mortally wounded at Malvern, and Lieutenant Burke, brought their Company, (C), to a perfection of drill and discipline certainly not excelled, if equaled [sic], by any other in the Brigade and by few outside of that organization. On the expedition to the Rappahannock he accompanied his regiment, thence to the peninsula, where, owing to fact of his Captain being most of the time Acting Major, he commanded the company. This was the case all through seven days retreat from before Richmond to Harrison's Landing, during which time Capt. O'Donohue was Acting Lieutenant Colonel. From Harrison's Landing Newport News, from thence to Alexandria, where he was taken down for a few days by the dregs of the swamp fever in his system, after Pope's defeat, and when the Army of the Potomac was again in the field under its old beloved commander, he immediately, though not yet quite recovered, in command of his company, at the head of which he was shot dead at Antietam on the 17th day of September. 
Such is the record brief of this brave and brilliant young Irish soldier. From this sketch you do not get any idea of his bravery brilliancy and of his complete consummate soldierly qualities. You should have seen him, to have even a remote conception of his character, on long, dreary, weary marches over frightful roads, knee-deep with mud, his company, from which place he was never absent unless when called by duty. You should have seen steady, cool, brave bearing on picket, his dashing and dauntless courage in battle when was ever within heart's beat of eternity. I have known him intimately since the fighting before Richmond—previously to that, not so thoroughly. As a man and as an Irishman, he almost approached perfection. He was entirely free from the vices may be said to flourish in camps. He was ambitious, and in profession was studying to make himself competent for commands of eminence; he was highly honorable, and would have achieved greatness without treading the miry paths of intrigue or chicanery. As a friend, comrade companion, I shall miss him for many a long day. I recall hours spent in my tent—spent in genial conversation—spent in his imparting to me out of his superior stores military learning knowledge; spent in relating to each other the happiest reminiscences of our young days passed in the old land over sea. These, some day or another, I may recall. Fate and duty threw us for some time side by side on last battle-field. To the latest day of my life, I shall never forget the incidents. The fire the enemy was fierce and very destructive. Like a murmur, it waved up to the right the company that one of men—Private Collins, I think—mortally wounded—killed, indeed. "Captain," said one of men to Joyce, "poor Collins is dead." To which, in his full, strong voice, he replied—"God rest soul. He died the death of a good soldier. Let us all follow his example, and never disgrace ourselves or one another." When rebel flags, planted on brow of the hill, up which we were marching, first appeared view, he yearned and longed and labored to take them. His eye glanced burned with a leonine lustre when opportunity seemed to offer. "Attention, Co C; steady—right dress—forward— march"—and on they went, every man— terrible fire raining down the slope on them. These were almost the last words I heard from him—last sight I had of him. Half an hour after I was looking at Dr. Reynolds dressing Lieutenant Mackey's wound down near hospital, when some one told me that Captain Joyce was shot through the head. So it was. The news was unexpected as it was grievous. The best and the bravest seem to be carried away oftenest. Many will mourn him. All said, God rest his soul. Of all who mourned, of all who prayed, none did so, I am sure, with a keener grief than General Meagher. Often and often has he been heard to say that Joyce and Clooney and O'Donohue and the others were his children. They had been with him from the beginning. They had served with him in his old company in the 69th Regt. They were high-souled, high-toned young Irish patriots, who had imbibed from his lips their passionate love of Ireland, and the hope in which they died, that some day or another they would have an opportunity to draw their swords under him, and display their soldierly skill to some purpose, in the ranks of men fighting for Fatherland. At least let us be thankful for one thing. One of the grand longings of their souls has been satisfied. I am convinced that they would rather have died where they did, sustaining and supporting the honor of the Green Flag, than have died full of years and honors and riches, gained in a strange land under strange banners. They fought and died for and loved their adopted country—but even on the red field of blood, so far away from home, with the vivid imagination of their race, they saw the standards of Erin floating, and her image poised in the blue heaven above them. The sorrowful light of her eyes and the sad glory that surrounds her, guided their steps through the valley of death, and if the cry of sharp pain escaped their lips, it was because their blood was spilled and their glad young days cut off in any other cause than hers.
It is a favorite thought of ours, contemplating the majesty and grandeur of the Republic, that the foundations upon which they rest have been cemented by the blood and the brains of so many Celts from Ireland. And hereafter, I am sure, Young Ireland and Young America, possibly, by reading the history of the Montgomerys, the McDonoughs, the Emmets, and of their struggles, will have their opinions heightened, and shaded by the light shed from the graves of their own more immediate dead. And no grave of so young a man on this continent will emit tenderer or truer rays to guide you in life and death, than those which spring from that tomb in Calvary where they have laid John O'Connell Joyce: others may be more effulgent, but none will be purer. 
He was a native of Fermoy, in the county of Cork, and had been in this country about two years. An eloquent and appreciative memoir in last week's IRISH-AMERICAN, detailed more effectively than I could do, the incidents of his too, short career. 
MONDAY, Oct 13th.
Sometimes, when considering the military history of Ireland, one does not wonder that strangers, who do not fathom, and therefore cannot appreciate, our nature, come to the conclusion that we are a mercenary race, that whatever of courage, of fortitude, of skill, strength or endurance we, as a people, possess, can be purchased for so much per pound, by any party, for the propagation of any cause or purpose, or set of principles. For a century—which includes a portion of the age of Louis the Fourteenth—we fought under every flag, and on every side of every question. Not to be bound by any particular history, nor to dig the proof of this assertion out of every dead and musty document, we can refer to every standard record of the times; but especially can we fortify our position from the reading of the raciest historical works and from the richest memoirs extant. Diligent countrymen of our own, jealous of our gallant reputation, have compiled and chronicled the daring deeds of Irishmen of past generations. For many reasons, we are grateful to them; but I, for one, confess that I prefer reading in the history of the big wars, by the great historians, allusions to the skill and courage of the men of my race, than studying any work specially eulogistic of them. And I can imagine what a readable article or two could be composed simply by selecting extracts from the writings of the masters of literature on this subject. But I suppose this must be left, like many another magnum opus, for more peacable [sic] and quiet times. In our own day, as well as in the days preceding ours, we were on all sides of every question. It must puzzle outside barbarians to reconcile themselves to the fact that Richard Montgomery should die fighting on the right side of the Revolutionary war, while Wolfe Tone, who was passionately praying for a soldier's fame, should give up the idea of becoming an ensign in a marching regiment, with a scarlet coat and the appurtenances, for this reason, among others, the American war was about to come to an end. Instances of this kind are innumerable. The shallow solution of all this martial ardor is simply absurd, viz., that Irishmen love fighting for its own sake. Like all popular reasons, it is not only absurd but wicked. We do not, and we never did love fighting for its own sake. Courage has always been esteemed by us one of the highest virtues, and as such has been cultivated by high and humble. In this world it is easier for the ambitious to grasp the sword than to enter the council chambers of the nations. Crushed at home, and possibly having many slavish vices, we were anxious and eager to show the world that we were not cowardly; but above all was the incentive, that wherever our swords flashed along the ranks of battle, some few rays, at least, of the light of victory were reflected upon and honored the only flag that is not symbollic [sic] of national life. 
As purely and as sincerely actuated by the latter motive as any other Irishman that ever loved, was Patrick Felan Clooney; and as ....

FIELD AND STAFF.—Lieutenant Colonel Henry Fowler, wounded in arm, severely; Major Richard O. Bentley, wounded in arm, slightly.

COMPANY A—Killed—Corporal Edwin Dunn, Corporal C. McKenna, John Cooney, James McGavigan. Wounded— First Sergeant Timothy Murray, leg, slightly; Sergeant Timothy Daly, knee and breast, severely; Corporal Matthew Cody, both arms, severely; Corporal J. Leonard, ankle, slightly; Corporal Patrick Rodgers, knee; Corporal Edwin Skinkwin, foot; Mathew Burns, face; Wm. Bohan, leg; Patrick Boyle, leg; Dennis Canty, thigh; Owen Curran foot; D. Donovan, foot; Bernard Finnegan, arm; Michael Garrety, thigh; James Kenny, breast; Cornelius Murphy, leg amputated; Thomas McCann, hand; Neal McCabe, knee; Owen McDermot, shoulder; David McAboy, both legs, severely; Bernard McGovern, breast; Frank O'Brien, arm and breast, severely; John Bryan, wrist, severely; C. Sheehan, arm, slightly: Thomas Tiernay, knee, severely; Jeremiah Walsh, shoulder, severely; Bernard Hoy, foot, slightly; George Robinson, thigh, severely; Thomas Manning, missing. Total killed, 4; wounded, 29; missing,
1—Total, 34.

COMPANY B—Killed—Patrick Cabbett, James Dowd, Edward Hughes, Arthur Smith. Wounded—First Lieutenant James Mackey, in thigh, severely; Aid-de-camp to General Meagher; First Sergeant William Taylor, hip, slightly; Corporal Patrick Hickman, shoulder, slightly; Corporal Thomas Cannon, thigh, severely; James Carmichael, leg, severely; John Farren, hip, severely; Arthur Flynn, heart, severely; J. Gallagher, hand, severely; Thomas Larkin, arm and hand, severely; John Murphy, thigh, severely.
Killed 4; wounded 10—Total 14.

COMPANY C.—Killed—Sergeant George McDonald, color bearer, J. Fullerton, Thomas McQuintan, J. Gallagher, Patrick Barrett. Wounded—Sergeant J. Martin, shoulder, slightly: Sergeant Samuel Greives, leg and hand, severely; Corporal John Burns, arm amputated; Corporal J. Harvey, leg, severely; J. Rielley, leg, severely; John Manning, abdomen, severely; Thomas Dooley, arm, severely; J. Stack, wrist and leg, severely; J. Scully, face, slightly; Richard Bowles, leg, slightly; Edward Murray, face, slightly; Robert Christie, abdomen, slightly; Patrick McGhan, arm, slightly; Hugh Blaney, hand, slightly; Owen Conroy, leg, slightly; Edward Eagan, leg, slightly; Michael Kelly, ear, slightly; Joseph Cottrell, head and leg, severely.
Killed 6; wounded 18—Total 23.

COMPANY D.—Killed—Sergeant Michael Hanlon, Corporal Daniel Carroll. Cornelius Rieley, James Lennon. Wounded—Sergeant Timothy O'Leary, thigh, severely; Sergeant Patrick Mann, thigh, severely; Corporal Patrick Lantry, thigh, severely; Michael McGinnis, thigh, severely; James Gilroy, back and thigh, severely; Thomas Duffy, arm, slightly; Thomas O’Hara, shoulder, severely; Michael McGlynn, leg amputated; Andrew Mitchell, side and leg, severely; John Dolan, face and shoulder, severely; Killed, 4; wounded, 10—Total, 14.

COMPANY E—Killed—Sergeant John Gaul, James O’Connor, Peter Seagrieve. Wounded—First Sergeant Wm. Cullen, leg, slightly; Sergeant Thomas Hughes, shoulder, slightly; Corporal Michael Holley, leg, severely; Corporal Daniel F. Looney, wrist, slightly; Patrick Barry, leg, severely; Michael Donohue, leg, severely; John Duke, hand, slightly; john Gallagher, arm, severely; Daniel McCarthy, leg, severely; Francis Whalen, hand, severely. Killed, 3; wounded, 10—Total, 13.

COMPANY F—Killed—Second Lieut. Patrick Whydon, commanding Company D; Sergeant Patrick Gillespie, Corporal J. Doherty. Wounded—Captain Michael O. Sullivan, leg, slightly; First Sergeant John Ryan, groin, severely; Sergeant James Plant, shoulder, severely; Corporal J. Kerrigan, arm, severely; John Myers, groin, severely; Bernard McWilliams, both legs, severely; Corporal Jos. Campbell, thigh, severely; John Dillon, leg, slightly; Charles Bennett, arm, slightly; privates Patrick Cullen, leg, slightly; Patrick Gallaghan, side, slightly; James Gibbons, arm, severely; John Hurley, shoulder, severely; Francis Kavauagh, thigh and shoulder, severely; John Moran, 2d, both legs, severely; ___ ___, shoulder, slightly; Francis McArdle, leg, slightly; Michael Redmond, thigh, slightly; Maurice Roache, arm, slightly; Thomas Nevin, leg, slightly. Killed, 3; wounded, 21—Total, 23.

COMPANY G.—Killed— Second Lieutenant Geo. Lynch, commanding Company B; Philip Coby, Thos. O'Connor. Wounded—Captain P. J. Condon, thigh, slightly; First Lieutenant Thos. W. Cartwright, knee, slightly; First Sergeant John Dwyer, head, slightly; Jos. Quinn, elbow, severely; Sergeant B. Gergehan, foot, slightly; Sergeant Edw. Walsh, hand, slightly; Corporal Mat. Norton, leg, severely; Corporal Jas. Gallaghan, side, slightly; Peter Vanderver, face, slightly; Peter Pendergast, both thighs, severely; Patrick Moroney, legs, severely; Jas. Crain, thigh, severely; Jas. Rieley, thigh, slightly; J. Hurley, wrist, severely; J. Council, knee, severely; Michael Burnes, thigh, slightly; K. J. Murphy, back, severely; Richard Harrigan, groin, severely; Richard Bloxham, arm, severely; John Cline, foot, slightly; Hugh Hamilton, arm, severely; John Tersly, arm, severely; Chas. Mansfield, leg, severely; Jas. Donnelly, leg, severely; Peter Hanigan, leg, severely; Jas. McMahoney, shoulder, severely; Patrick Scanlon, body, slightly; Patrick Powers, thigh, slightly. Missing—Corporal John Barnwell. Killed, 3; wounded, 28; missing, 1—Total, 32.

COMPANY H.—Killed—Second Lieutenant Cadwalader Smith, commanding Co. C; Sergeant Owen McMahon, Owen Curran, John Moran. Wounded—Sergeant John Brennan, knee, severely; Sergeant Michael Hanbury, shoulder, slightly; Corporal James McCormick, arm and breast, severely; Corporal J. Keefe, knee, severely; Chas. Piggot Trainor, head, severely; Corporal Wm. C. Cranston, thigh, severely; James Quirk, leg, severely; John ___, arm, severely; Jas. O'Grady, thigh, severely; A. Brennan, leg, severely; Michael ___, severely, George Kelly, Michael Halahan, leg, slightly; Killed, 4; wounded, 23. Total, 27.

COMPANY K— ___ Grogan, thigh, severely; Sergeant James Delacey, foot, slightly; Corporal Francis, First Sergeant, shoulder, severely; Jarvis Fighmy, leg, severely; Wm. Daly, shoulder, severely; Phillip Cunningham, ___ and thigh, severely; J. Sheehan, breast, severely; Edward Langden, arm, severely; Michael Kearns, breast, severely; James Clark, hand, slightly. Killed, 4 wounded, 14.—Total. 18.

Killed 36
Wounded 164
Missing 2
Aggregate 202
JAS. D. BRADY, Adjutant Sixty-third N. Y. V.

No. 2.
Air: The meeting of the waters — By John Flanagan.

There's an Island on earth, which clearly has shown,
By the sad and late battle fought at Bull-Run,
That will lend us a hand, in this hour of need,
And restore us peace, with the greatest of speed;
And restore us peace, with the greatest of speed.

Say: which is the Island to give us such aid?
Or that will give us an intrepid Brigade?
Which, from Secession's head, Jeff Davis will pull;
Which, from Secession's head, Jeff Davis will pull.

Its Brigade is now ready to march from York,
Straightway to the battle-field to do such work,
Led on by the undaunted General Shields,
Never more to return till Jeff Davis yields;
Never more to return till Jeff Davis yields.

Say: will it succeed in giving such relief,
Or be sure to arrest old Floyd the Gun-Thief?
Yes, yes; it will quickly restore us to peace;
It can do so, we know, with the greatest of ease;
It can do so, we know, with the greatest of ease.

As an instance of this, we'll cite: Fontenoy!
The mention of which gives Irish heads joy!
Next in importance, the Battle of Bull-Run,
And Memorable Siege of sweet Lexington;
And Memorable Siege of sweet Lexington.

Then, cheer up! Union hearts, do not despair!
While Erin is with us, we've nothing to fear;
With Shields as a General, it will e'er prove true
To the Home of the Free — the Red, White and Blue!
To the Home of the Free — the Red, White, and Blue!

This regiment is progressing rapidly to completion. The men are at Camp Carrigan, Staten Island. Tomorrow, a United States officer will muster into service those not already mustered. They have recruiting offices at the City Hall, and at 232 Atlantic street, Brooklyn. Subscriptions in aid of the regiment are daily coming in.

New York, August 26, 1861.
To prevent any misrepresentation in relation to my position in the Third Irish regiment, I beg leave to say that I have retired from the command of the Third regiment. At the same time, while I am unable to be with the regiment in person, I will be with them in heart and soul. I trust all good men will rally round the regiment with a spirit of patriotism and affection for the old Emerald Isle,


By some mistake, it appeared in certain morning papers of this city that Colonel Yorke's Light Artillery would leave Fort Schuyler yesterday for the seat of war. After making the necessary inquiries relative to it, both in the Division Armory, the Adjutant General's office, &c., our reporter could not glean any information respecting such an artillery force. After visiting Fort Schuyler, however, the mystery was at once solved, as there are two batteries stationed there, belonging, one to the Sixty-ninth and the other to the Eighty eighth regiment, which regiments are attached to the Irish brigade. Captain McMahon's battery, of one hundred men and six guns, is connected with the Sixty-ninth (Irish), Colonel Nugent's corps; and Captain Hogan's battery, comprising the same number of field pieces and men, will be attached to Colonel Baker's corps, the Eighty-eighth, so called from the famous Connaught Rangers, who displayed such conspicuous gallantry at the battle of Waterloo. The men for each battery have been fully appointed, and the number is complete. They are fine, soldierly looking fellows, and are principally sons from the old Emerald Isle. The field pieces are well worthy of an inspection, and cannot fail, when well ranged and brought properly into play on the works and ranks of the enemy, to do frightful execution, and deal death and destruction wherever their fatal bullets fly. These two companies of artillery have now been stationed at Fort Schuyler for the last six week, and the practice they have gone through, during that time has fully prepared each for accompanying its different corps to the field of battle, to participate in the gigantic struggle which will, it is hoped, forever decide the freedom and stability of the Union. It was rumored that they would leave yesterday, but their departure from Fort Schuyler will not be sooner than next Monday, at farthest, when they will land during the day at the foot of Thirty-fourth street, and of which future notice will be given in our columns.

The Sixty-third regiment New York Volunteers, Colonel
R. C. Enright commanding, will leave for Washington on Thursday next. The regiment is at present encamped on David's Island, where the men are daily exercised in their drill and all the usual military manoeuvres. Colonel Enright has a very fine body of men under his command, and hopes to render good service to the Union cause when his regiment is brought into active service. 
At dress parade on Sunday afternoon last Captain Branigan, of Company K, was presented with a handsome sword, sash and belt, by a delegation of his friends from Albany. Judge Pearcy, in presenting the sworn, delivered an eloquent and suitable address, which was admirably responded to by Captain Branigan. This pleasant affair terminated with three tunes three from all present.

Acting Brigadier General Meagher held a dress parade of the Irish Brigade at Fort Schuyler on Sunday, in presence of an immense assemblage of people. The brigade turned out in considerable strength, about 1,200 men appearing in uniform, and nearly 500 more being in the fort to whom uniforms have not yet been supplied. The men looked in splendid condition, young, healthy and vigorous. They went through the evolutions in a manner that elicited the warmest approbation of the spectators. No one who witnessed the parade could fail to see that the men were all soldiers, in a high state of discipline, and that their officers, to a man, understood their business. It was in every respect a highly creditable display, and as the column marched to the fine music of Dodsworth's band, there was a martial esprit observable that prophesied favorably for the future of the brigade, when its services shall be demanded in action. The Sixty-ninth, formerly the First regiment, commanded by Col. Nugent, had the right of the line, flunked by Captain McMahon's battery, of the Fifth (cavalry and artillery) regiment, and the Eighty-eighth, formerly the Fourth, commanded by Colonel Baker and flanked by Captain Hogan's battery, also of the Fifth regiment, was on the left. Colonel Meagher and his staff, accompanied by a large number of well known citizens, among them Judges Daly and O'Connor, reviewed the troops. As the column, after giving a marching salute to their gallant commander, went twice round the field at double quick time in splendid order, the delight of the spectators was evinced by loud and hearty applause.
Before the troops were dismissed Colonel Meagher addressed them in a brief and spirited speech, during which he read the letter of resignation of General Scott; reminded them of the historic memories of the Irish race, and, pointing to the flag floating above them, conjured them to stand by it, and maintain the country where their people had found a happy and prosperous home, and by sustaining it thus give a death blow to the despotisms of Europe. He said that he wished to be their brother rather than their commander, and whatever might be their privations or sufferings in the future, while he had a cup of water or a crust of bread he would share it with the humblest soldier in the ranks. He would be with them at all times in danger, in privation or in death. He announced that the Sixty ninth would leave for the seat of war on Tuesday week, and that the other two regiments would follow soon after. He would accompany each in person, bringing up the rear with the Fifth, his own regiment, and he would promise them that if the hour of a retreat should ever come, he would bring up the rear also. His address was received with hearty cheers, and three cheers being given for General Scott and Colonel Meagher, the troops were dismissed. The guests of the occasion were entertained at an elegant collation by Colonel Nugent.

Special Notices.
SIXTY-THIRD REGIMENT N. Y. VOLUNTEERS—This Veteran Regiment, commanded by Col. R. C. BENTLEY, of Albany, want more men. We hope that the citizens of Albany will see to it that the men are promptly furnished. The HIGHEST BOUNTIES PAID, and FULL PROTECTION GUARANTEED to RECRUITS. Call on Capt. M. H. KENNEALLY, at Col. Mulholland's 14 Beaver street.

Extracts from an Albany Officer's Private Letter.
CAMP CALIFORNIA, Va., Jan. 18, 1862.
* * * Since I wrote to you last, we have passed through a very trying ordeal—that of picket duty. We left camp on Tuesday morning, the 7th inst., marched about five miles to Edson's Hill, relieved the 60th, and experienced four days and nights of the most trying rainy weather which it is possible to conceive. No shelter was afforded with the exception of some brush cabins, which let the water in at the top, and, after completely saturating our blankets and clothing, what was left of the rain passed out at the bottom, just like Paddy's brogue. Five companies marched out 2 1/2 miles, leaving the remainder to guard the hill as a reserve, which, in their turn, marched out next morning, thereby alternating every second day. After the companies that were thrown forward came to the ground, they deployed until the line reached about two miles in extent, watching every movement and taking cognizance of even the most trivial circumstance; while the companies remaining behind performed ordinary guard duty. By this arrangement, the possibility of sleep was almost out of the question, until, after 06 hours' unremitting duty, we were relieved by the 88th. At night, the hill appeared to us like an island, so dense was the mist, that, creeping up, eventually filled the ravines which separate our position from the surrounding high grounds. The only noticeable things which occurred were the taking of two important Rebel prisoners by Capt. BRANAGAN'S (Albany) company, and the accidental wounding of one of our men by a shot which alarmed the whole line of picquets. I had nearly forgotten to state that Very Rev. Father CONROY rode with us to the outposts, and appeared to evince much interest with reference to military movements.
* * * Although almost within gunshot of the enemy, and very frequently, when on picquet, hearing their drums beating, no fear lurks in any breast, except that we may be unable to do ample justice to the historic character of our race in defence of the noble land which has afforded shelter and protection to so many millions of Irish exiles. The cause which served to produce so much trouble on our departure from New York have, happily, all been removed, and the improvements in our morale and phisique are marked and astonishing. A flourishing Temperance society has been organized [sic], a majority of the men are banded together in religious associations, and every other possible means have been taken to elevate them to the highest standard of soldierly bearing and manly qualities. For moral improvement, all praise is due to our beloved Chaplain; for physical improvement we are indebted to our excellent and doubly honest Quartermaster; for improvement in tactics, Col. Enright merits a very large share of honor; while to our skilful Surgeons is to be attributed, under Providence, our remarkable exemption from "all the ills that flesh is heir to "in camp and field.
* * * It is a sight angels might witness to gee the brave fellows at their humble devotion during the celebration of Divine service each Sunday—each man picking up a bit of chip to place beneath his knees to protect them from the mud. These things serve to alleviate the unavoidable hardships of camp life in winter—particularly here, where summer heat, rain, wind, hail, sleet and snow alternate regularly with each other, and sometimes all occur on the same day. Yet nothing can stifle the native cheerfulness and hilarity for which the Irish race is proverbial. It would send a thrill of excitement through your veins, were you to witness the impetuous "charge bayonets!" of our gallant regiment, at double-quick (165 steps, 33 inches each, to a minute) and over their shoes in mud. It brings vividly before me the heroic deeds performed upon European battle-fields by the "mere Irish." which will ever live in history. God grant that we, scions from the same old stock, may improve upon their example for sake of the infinitely more sacred cause which demands the sacrifice of life itself, on the part of every patriot, to uphold and make triumphant. Should England take advantage of our present presumed weakness, the hearts of Irishmen all over the world would sympathize with the Union, and in this free land would fiercely burn to avenge the wrongs of centuries to poor unfortunate Erin! "Remember Limerick!" and "Feac an bealac!" would be rallying cries to nerve every blow, and draw to our banner, even in conflict, the flower of the British army!
* * * Treason lurks in many shapes; but the most foul is that which endeavors to alienate the soldier from implicit confidence in the government with reference to pay and allowances. Sutlers are simply well, robbers is the word. Witness the following partial scale of prices: a paper of chewing tobacco, of the very worst description and manufacture, and containing not half so much as your ordinary three cent paper, for 6 cents; a common clay pipe (two for a cent), 3 cents; a twelve cent pie, 30 cents; a paper of very bad matches, 3 cents, &c., &c. I sincerely trust the office will be abolished, and that little necessaries, not much thought of at home, but the want of which is much exaggerated here, will be furnished in some equitable manner, wherein kelptomania [sic] cannot be so freely practiced.
* * The more I see of this foul rebellion, the more firmly is my faith fixed in the fundamental truths of Republicanism, no matter how bogus members of the party may assail my race and creed, and unmindful of the ingratitude of partizans. My principles are disinterested. Time and opportunity will display brilliant episodes of Irish valor and confound our revilers with the noblest of all revenge—undying devotion to the Union of these States! 
* * * We have lost but one man by death since coming here, and he was worn out by previous excesses. Other regiments are not so fortunate, however, as scarcely a day passes but some poor fellow is buried in a little lot adjoining the camp of the 88th. These thoughts have occurred to my mind from hearing the band of the 53d N. Y. V., approaching our camp, playing the dead march at the funeral of a comrade. Oh! how solemn it is to hear the death dirge reverberating from hill to hill, in this wild country, and still more melancholy it is to see the mortal remains of a poor soldier, far from home and friends, placed in a hole (scarcely a grave), on which, it may be, "the foeman and the stranger" may tread in some future time. What a mockery is life, when it ends thus! The other day I was at the funeral of a fine young man who was accidentally shot by his own brother. To witness the distraction of the poor father and brother over the grave, was more than I could bear, and I was glad to escape from their wailings, although they mourned the lost one in German. May God give us the melancholy happiness to die among our friends, unless our lives are sacrificed in the path of duty on the field of battle!
* * * But these generalities may prove wearisome, and I will therefore draw to a close. Whenever anything worthy of note shall occur, I will transmit the record to you, to publish at your discretion. * * *
MARYLAND, Sunday, Sept. 21.
I am permitted once more to write to you. My wound is not as serious as I had anticipated, having bled a good deal, and at the time it looked very ugly, the bullet hiving gone through and through the fleshy part of my thigh, a few inches above the knee. It gives me no pain worth talking of, although the only dressing it has got, up to this time, is cold water, which I keep constantly pouring on it, day and night. This is in itself a great inconvenience, as I have not slept an hour at any one time until last night, when I got four hour's sleep, and awoke very much refreshed. I can scarcely move off my back, but I can very well afford to bear my situation with more than patience, when I look around the vast field and see poor fellows who are suffering from wounds, many of which are mortal— some shot through the head, back, groin, sides, shoulders and abdomen; others with lacerated limbs, and many, whilst undergoing amputation of legs and arms, shrieking and moaning in such manner as would penetrate the most obdurate heart.
I am laid near the Surgeon's quarters, and within one hundred yards and in full view of our Brigade burying-ground, in which fatigue parties are constantly employed burying the dead "uncoffined and unsung." Two groups of graves amongst the rest command my attention, and produce most melancholy thoughts in my mind. One, containing five mounds, rudely fenced in, in which are buried everybody's friend Lieut. McConnell, De Lacey, Kearns and Robbins, of Company K (Albany Co.); the other, containing the graves of Lieut. Lydon, Sergeant Gillespie, Corporals Kerrigan and Doherty, and private Madden, of my company (K)—upon whom, and all the other poor fellows, may the Lord have mercy!
In my last letter I stated that we were relieved from our perilous condition and ordered to the rear of the Battery. In a few minutes after we were ordered to march in a circuitous direction, to either out-flank or get in the rear of the enemy. While performing this duty we waded a stream which reached far above our knees; we halted a little distance beyond for a few moments to allow the men to come up, then formed in line of battle, and the four regiments—63d, 69th, 88th N. Y., and 29th Mass., marched towards the enemy, passing over every variety of ground, and many obstructions, till we came to a solid rail fence. Before this we halted--were ordered to "ground arms " - advance and tear it down.
In performing this, we bore the Rebel fire of rifles, grape, canister, solid balls and shell, without the loss of a single man. We then resumed our arms, advanced a little further, and commenced firing—the Rebel infantry, having chosen their ground (being posted in a hollow), had the advantage, and need it well, at every volley thinning our ranks most fearfully—our brave boys being mowed down like grass before the scythe. Onward and onward our Brigade advanced, nearing the enemy at every step, and giving them more than they gave us—the survivors bitterly avenging the death of their fallen comrades. 
After the seventh volley, seeing my company cut up, and not being willing to permit the enemy to see the gaps made by them, I rushed to the right, and in a voice which surprised myself for its loudness, I was in the act of giving the order, "Company F, close up on the colors!" when I was struck. Not feeling it for a few seconds, I bounded partly to the front to see the order promptly executed, when I fell, and was carried to the rear, and while being thus carried, a shower of balls and shells followed us, all of which I providentially escaped. Arriving amongst the wounded, I could get no assistance, and there being danger, even here, from the Rebel shot, myself and my orderly, Sergeant Ryan, who was wounded near the groin, thought that we would go elsewhere and get our wounds dressed. We walked two miles to another hospital, and failing to accomplish our object, we walked two miles more to Keedysville, where we stopped two days, until we were taken back in an ambulance to the place from whence we started, and where I now am—having walked unaided five miles. 
What men are left of our brigade will not make more than half a regiment—our regiment numbering but 120 officers and men—the rest being killed, wounded or missing.
Our brigade fought four brigades of the enemy: went into the field four times, every time coming out fewer and fewer. The colors fell sixteen times, and were borne aloft to the rear, torn and riddled, so that they could scarcely be recognized [sic]. Sergeant Daly was wounded, but not dangerously, and had to relinquish the Green Flag to another. My Corporal of the color guard, Dillon, although wounded, brought out the State flag. The "Stars and Stripes" were also preserved; and, after dislodging the enemy, all three flags were safe. I send you a piece of our glorious Green Flag, which you will preserve with patriotic and religious care, as it is greatly prized by me.
I understand that we slaughtered the enemy, killing seven to one, and the field for miles is strewn with heaps of the blackened corpses of our enemies. On the whole, the Rebel army is almost annihilated, and the war cannot last much longer.
I forgot to say in my last that Grace and Chambers are not wounded.
The remnant of the Brigade is now supporting a battery about a mile from us. 
The 44th Regiment was engaged, but I can hear nothing of T. Neligan. Jemmy Egan, from East Albany, is badly wounded. John Dwyer is not as bad as I thought. Tom Malony is wounded. Young Kearns, whose father was killed, is lying wounded near me. Carroll, from Bethlehem, is not wounded. Our killed and wounded will reach 250, when the revised returns are made. "Gallowglass," of the Irish American, is wounded, so is "fighting Dick " (Gen. Richardson), I fear mortally. "GARRYOWEN."

KENNY'S HILL, 3 miles beyond Middleton, Md.,
Sunday, Sept. 14, 1862--5, P. M.
* * * As Divine Service was being concluded this morning, the trumpet sounded to "Fall in!" and we obeyed the call with alacrity. We are ordered to march against the enemy, up the mountains, steep and woody to the top. An engagement is raging there—we arrive at eight; the battle is over—the ground is thickly strewn with dead and wounded—the 8th and 12th Alabama are cut to pieces, or taken prisoners, by the Pennsylvania Reserves, Brooklyn 14th, and others composing Hooker's division. Eight regiments of Rebels were engaged.
Monday morning, 15th.—We have relieved the troops that were engaged yesterday. We are just ordered to fall in, and have scarcely time to swallow our scanty breakfast. An engagement is impending. * * The enemy has fled, and we are after them, without counting steps, or deviating to the right or to the left—wading streams, climbing the Blue mountains, and groping through corn-fields. We passed through Boonesboro, where the inhabitants received us enthusiastically, and furnished a bountiful supply of pure, sparkling water—to which we had been entire strangers since March last, except while marching through Frederick on Saturday. They informed us that the Rebels had passed only half an hour before (although they had some hours start)—indeed, we could track them all along by the quantities of old clothing, muskets, letters and papers, scattered on the road. They tore down the telegraph wires, burned one bridge, and attempted the destruction of two others; but did not succeed, as we were close upon them, advancing steadily over the smoking timbers—the artillery and cavalry taking another direction. We next came to Keedeysville. Passing rapidly through the town, we halted in face of the enemy, who had time to form in order of battle. They began to shell us, without effect, and our (63d) regiment was detailed to take up a petition in front—the remainder of the troops being sheltered by high ground from the Rebel fire. Passing along the hill, in flank or files of four, we were completely exposed to our enemies—the setting sun shining full upon us, which gave them an opportunity to open accurate fire. Their cannon belched forth shells whilst we were executing this manoeuvre, tearing up the ground around us—whizzing, whirring and bursting over our heads. Going through this fiery ordeal of fifteen minutes' duration, we had but one man killed; and he was only one file ahead of me, on the left of Company D. Laus Deo!
After a sharp shelling on both sides—our regiment being the only one in advance of the guns, lying flat on the ground—the combat ceased for the night. We lay upon our arms all night, having neither blankets nor fires. We were aroused (such of us as could sleep) at 3 o'clock in the morning, by heavy firing. * * 
In the Mountains, near Keedeysville, Tuesday morning, Sept. 10.—This morning the Rebels opened their batteries in terrible form, to which our guns replied. After an hour's firing, both sides ceased. Imagine our poor fellows lying on the ground, between both fires, ready to engage the enemy's infantry should they venture to attack the battery, which could not be reached except over our dead bodies. Nothing separated us from the foe but a large Indian corn field and a rail fence. A few hours' cessation, and the fight recommenced. For three hours, the thundering of artillery exceeded anything I had ever heard—the rapidity of the discharges being such that we could not distinguish between those of friend or foe, or between the discharges themselves, or the bursting of the shells It seemed for a time as if the shells met over our heads, and there exploded;—the casualties, however, were not numerous. * * This day has been exceedingly hot; and now, as I write, (6 p. m.,) the sky is lowering, and indicates rain. 
Wednesday morning, 17th,—The night was not as inclement as I had anticipated, and we derived "aid and comfort" from & stack of straw which lay "appropriately" in our vicinity. About % A. M., we heard our pickets exchange volleys with those of the enemy; but, after a time, all was quiet again. About 4 we commenced preparing our breakfast; but had not time to eat it, when our line of batteries opened on the Rebels, who promptly replied, and the cannonading is now, at this hour, (7 o'clock,) without intermission. The Rebels must have been very short of missiles, when they fire off old sledges, horse-shoes, old iron; and in one instance a mule of ours was struck with the leg of a cooking-stove! They must also have been short of shells -otherwise, they would not have fired so many solid shot. * * 
We have just been relieved from our perilous position, after being under the Rebel fire from two points, and under our own, one hundred paces to the rear, for forty-eight hours. During this trying period, our Colonel, John Burke (who had just recovered from wounds received at Malvern Hill), displayed the utmost military skill, coolness and courage, in directing every movement. He was ably assisted by Lieut. Col. Fowler, and our own major R. C. Bentley—both gentlemen of undoubted courage and splendid soldierly abilities. * * We are ordered to the front, to engage the enemy.
In Hospital at Keedysville, Thursday morning, 18th—We have fought the enemy, and our Brigade has been cut to pieces! Every man of my Company has been either killed or wounded, with the exception of eleven. I received a rifle ball in the left thigh, going completely through—fortunately, without touching the bone. Poor Lieut. Henry McConnell was shot through the brain, and never spoke again. P. W. Lydon, my First Lieutenant, was shot through the heart. Only one Captain (O'NEILL) remained on the field. JAMES DE LACEY is killed—also old TIM. KEARNS. Lieut. SULLIVAN, TERRY, MURRAY, and the two MAHERS, are all safe. Major BENTLEY is slightly wounded. Sergeant JOHN DWYER (printer) is wounded in the head. Sergeant-Major QUIRK and M. MCDONALD are not touched. All the line officers of our regiment are either killed or wounded, save one Captain and five Lieutenants, * * At this moment (10 A. M.) my wound is not yet dressed; but it gives me only slight inconvenience. I expect to leave here for Frederick to-night, and from thence, probably, home for a season. Those mentioned above are the only Albanians of whom I have positive knowledge at this writing; but will endeavor to account for them all.

Local Affairs.
Extract of a Letter from the 63rd Regiment, Irish Brigade.
You have no idea how glad I was to receive your letter after the last fifteen days' struggle —marching all night and fighting all day, fully equal to the seven days before Richmond, but longer, more bitter and obstinate than that celebrated campaign. We have advanced continually; no retreating now. You will, no doubt, read an account of the bloody charge made on the 12th inst., in which our little brigade covered itself with glory. Michael Grogan is in temporary command of Co. C, and I am acting Lieutenant in Co. F, at the request of our mutual friend, Capt. Gleeson, who has commanded the regiment since Major Touhey was wounded. We lost fifteen men yesterday out of Co. F, four killed and eleven wounded, and we are losing more or less every day in killed and wounded. On the morning of the 4th, my son Dan, who, you know is commissary sergeant, issued 350 rations, and on the 16th he issued only 158; so you may estimate by that how much our brigade and the Iron Second Army Corps have lost. Daniel Lynch was mortally wounded on the 5th, and during the few hours that he lived he was tenderly cared for by Mrs. Duffy, who has accompanied her husband and followed the fortunes of the brigade since its organization. She cut off a lock of his hair and took possession of a few rings and whatever property he left, which she will religiously keep until his sisters send for them. Tell Arthur McShane, his brother-in-law, that we buried the poor fellow decently and carefully.
Adjutant Miles McDonald is an accomplished young officer; he acts with the experience of a veteran—cool and collected under the most terrible fire, and he is a gentleman and courteous to all. He got a slight touch on the 18th, but he is doing duty to-day. Gen. Grant has the confidence of the soldiers, and the sight of him and our beloved and heroic Hancock, is enough to excite the enthusiasm of their men, and it seems like old times under. Gen. McClellan.—Farewell! I will write soon if I am spared, and you need not be surprised if Grogan and myself attain our original rank before long.

PRESENTATION COLORS.—Two of the most beautiful flags we have ever seen are now on exhibition at Hastings' News Room, Museum Building. They are the property of the 63d Regiment, Col. R. C. Bentley, of this city, being the gift of some thirty-four gentlemen friends of the regiment in New York city. The name of the regiment, &c., upon each flag is done in the most elegant style of embroidery, surpassing anything of the kind ever exhibited here. The "Harp of Erin" stands out prominent upon the Green flag, which bears the following inscription: "Presented by citizens of New York to the 63d N. Y. S. V., (3d Regiment of the Irish Brigade) Brigadier General Thos. Francis Meaghar, commanding, in grateful appreciation of their gallant and brilliant conduct in the battle-fields of Virginia and Maryland, in the war to maintain the National domain and the American Union, November 1862." Each flag also bore the name of several battles in which the members of the regiment shed their life's blood, viz:—
Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Yorktown, Fair Oaks, Gaines' Mill, Ahen's Farm, Savage's Station, White Oak Bridge, Glendale, Malvern Hill, Antietam, Gettysburg and Bristoe's Station. A silver band arround [sic] the flag staff has inscribed upon it the names of the generous donors. These flags cost nearly one thousand dollars. That they will not be dishonored the past noble deeds of the regiment fully testify.

The Master-Mind—The Secret of Success—A Soldier's Reflections—The Graves of the Heroes—What the Gallant 63d has Done—What the Soldiers think of Grant and the Grand Result—Richmond Must Fall!—The 7th Reg't Heavy Artillery—The Rebel Prisoners, &c., &c.
IRISH BRIGADE, May 20, 1864.
Friend Cuyler: It is a source of pleasure for one to experience, even for a few short hours, a relaxation from the arduous duties attending a campaign of any nature but more especially the present one, which, from magnitude in size, and greatness of conception, has never been equaled, either on this Continent or in Europe. Throughout every movement a person can plainly trace the guideance [sic] of a master-mind. Every battle or even skirmish, for the last fourteen days, was planned and most successfully fought under the direction of Lieutenant-General Grant, who has most nobly sustained his already worldwide reputation. For the first time during the war has this army crossed the Rapidan and maintained its foothold, driving Lee from one line of breastworks to another, until on the evening of the 11th he fell back to his last and strongest entrenched position, where he formed his crippled but still defiant army in battle array, and when night closed its dark and ominous wings around the lines of battle, both of which exhausted lay on their arms, endeavoring to catch some little rest after the severe and hard-fought day, one could not but reflect upon the causes which drew forth from their quiet homes and loved ones, such a number of brave men linked together by almost brotherly ties; and, at such a moment, by casting your eyes along the now small line of what was three years ago composed of 800 honest, manly forms how sad were the feelings as one after another you found their places vacant, never no more to be filled by them—to think how many of them had fought their last fight, and had appeared for their last muster.
If then the brave are mourned so deeply by their comrades in battle, who can paint the feelings of anguish and woe experienced by their families and friends at home, when the dread news appears in the public print, with the short but fatal word "killed!" placed after the name of a husband, father, son or mother. No more will the light tread of the departed cross the thresh-hold, watching with bounding heart, the delight of the fireside group, eager to welcome the retuning soldier. In place of joyous meetings we find nothing but lonely graves, in some sunny spot of this once beautiful State, where it is affecting to mark with what simple kindness the surviving soldier buries his fallen comrade, selecting with nice care a favorite spot as if to allure the first bright light of the rising sun to kiss the grassy mounds before its pure rays should rest upon any other object. There is something beautiful in a soldier's grave. From its simplicity alone it is more beautiful. The rustic head board, hastily penciled [sic], speaks more of patriotism and love of country, than all the monuments of cold marble chisled into most majestic form by the skillful hands of the artist.
Since May 5th the Army of the Potomac has been engaged, both day and night, with the enemy, and met with a most stubborn resistance at every point. 
The 63d has been engaged nearly every day, having been almost continually on the front; and, starting with eight officers and 800 enlisted men, has lost, in killed, wounded and missing, three officers and 135 enlisted men.
On the night of the 11th last, after the men were asleep, orders were suddenly issued to have the command ready to march at 11:30 p. m. The men were cautioned to make no flies, or to speak above their breath. Everything was done with that degree of quietness and decision, which showed that the men, at least, were fully prepared for the struggle which awaited them. After marching for three hours along a muddy road—the men stumbling at almost every step—over the felled trees cut down to obstruct our progress, which was borne in patience by the sturdy veterans, who were cracking their jokes in whispers to each other, creating every once in a while a half smothered laugh, as some one more unfortunate than the rest would find the bottom of some deep, muddy hole, we rested.
After a while, the troops composed of the 1st Division, 21 Corps, came to a halt. Each regiment formed column of attack, doubled on the centre, and closed en masse, were ordered to lay on their arms, and told to secure all the rest possible, as they would have to charge the enemies ranks at daylight. After resting about two hours, orders were issued, in a whisper, to fall in; and, as the grey dawn began to break above the towering hills, upon which were the works to be charged, the column began to move. Each man seemed to feel the great responsibility of the undertaking. Steadily they advance, every man and officer at his post, the national colors of each regiment floating proudly in the breeze. It was a sight never to be forgotten; and it will bear a place in my memory long after other scenes and incidents of the war are forgotten. The troops advanced, unmolested, until they came to the Rebel line of pickets, which was thrown out about 800 yards from the works. They discharged their pieces at us and fled in confusion. At the same instant our line started on the double quick, making almost the very ground quake with their cheers and quick, heavy tread. The first line of works were taken in an instant, and the confusion inside amongst the enemy was almost indescribable. They were completely take by surprise, and one whole division captured, numbering about 5000 prisoners; amongst whom were two general officers, named Johnson and Stewart, 22 pieces of cannon and 12 stand of colors. But our work was not done yet. Those who succeeded in escaping ran to the second line of works, and gave the alarm but were not soon enough to prevent or check our victorious progress, for our line advanced, and after a sharp but short contest the second line was in our possession, and the beautiful stars and stripes floated proudly over the breastworks which a short time before supported the stars and bars. After the charge the 2d Corps was relieved by the 6th, and were allowed a short time to cook their breakfast. But many a poor fellow who started in the morning with the regiment needed no morning meal—for there lay before us the bodies of our brave dead and wounded—and as the long line of ambulances and stretchers slowly passed us with their precious loads of sufferers, one could then count the price of our victory; and I assure you it was not a bloodless one. Our loss was one commissioned officer killed, six enlisted men killed and thirty enlisted men wounded.
It would be impossible to give you any detailed account of all actions the 63d has participated in since the 3d inst., as it would take up more space in your valuable columns, than could be spared at this critical moment in the history of the country, as every one of your numerous readers are watching with intense interest the movements of the Army of the Potomac; for upon that army is centered the hopes of the country; and such being the case, I thought, anything from here would be acceptable. At present the army seems to be at a stand still; rushing after its almost superhuman exertions. It is now supposed that Lee has fallen back towards the Rebel capital, and is busily engaged in reorganizing his army for one more stand before he yields to the superior genius of Grant; for fall he must. Nothing can save him. We firmly believe that the present campaign will give a death blow to the Rebellion, and fighting under this conviction, having before them a bright prospect of a happy peace, when they can once more return to their homes in honor, they respect fighting under this condition; having such an incentive to spur them on they can annihilate and subdue any army that can be brought against them by the combined efforts of Davis and Lee. Every available soldier that has been hovering about our National Capital for the last eight months is now being sent to the front to reinforce Grant. Thus far it is estimated that about 3500 fresh troops have been sent to the army. 
The 7th New York Heavy Artillery are now here doing duty. Last evening they were engaged; but as yet I have not heard the extent of their casualties. The Corcoran Legion is here and participated in the charge of the 18th inst., losing altogether about 400 men. The new troops are in fine spirits, and are spoiling for a fight. Each man comes to be loaded with a large knapsack, packed with any quantity of good clothing and mementoes from home, accumulated during their long rest around Washington. It was laughable to see the wishful looks of the old vets, as the troops passed, some ardently wishing that they would be allowed to march in their rear, knowing that on the first long day's march, under the oppressive heat of the sun, the fine knapsacks would be strewn along the road, such being the case always with the new recruits on their first march.
During yesterday and to-day there has been but little firing, and it is generally supposed that the Rebels are abandoning their position in our front. The Rebel cavalry made a raid last night, with the evident intention of getting to our right and rear, in order to replenish their rations from our supply trains, but were successful. They were driven back. From all accounts they are now suffering more than ever for subsistence [sic] stores; and, if all the encouraging reports from Butler and Sheridan are true, there seems no prospect of their obtaining a fresh supply.
The Rebel prisoners who have been taken during this campaign seem, on an average, to be much more intelligent and better clothed, than any I have seen before. Their uniforms are apparently new, and to judge from their appearance and actions, I take them to be new recruits and conscripts. They are not very communicative, but morose and stubborn, and they all seem to think that, eventually, Lee will overthrow Grant. At the same time they do not disguise the fact that the future destiny of the Southern Confederacy rests on the result of this campaign. Hoping that in my next I may have the pleasure of recording the fall of Richmond, as we are now three miles southeast of Milford, thirty-nine miles from the Rebel capital, is the earnest wish of ...

ANOTHER HERO BURIED.—The remains of Lieut. McMonnell, of Co. K, 63d Regiment N. Y. V. (Irish Brigade), who was killed at the battle of Antietam, arrived by yesterday morning's boat, and in the afternoon, were escorted by the Montgomery Guards from the City Hall to thee Cathedral Cemetery. At the time of his death he was Adjutant of the Regiment—beloved by all for sterling good qualities of head and heart. He leaves a family, whose greatest consolation must be that he died as a true soldier would wish to die—in defence of his adopted country, and in the thickest of that dreadful fight.

We have become so accustomed to hear of the death of friends in the army, that it would almost seem that the frequent receipt of such painful intelligence would, to a certain extent, blunt our sensibilities and fail to excite those emotions of sympathy and sorrow that, in the ordinary course of life, follow the decease of those we have known and loved. And yet whenever the swift electric messenger communicates to us that another brave fellow has sacrificed his life upon the altar of his country, how painfully sad are the reflections that arise. Death loses none of its terrors to those who are far away from the field of desolation and carnage, even though day after day we receive intelligence of the inevitable results of desperate and bloody conflicts. The loss of a relative or friend, whenever it may occur, must always cast a cloud over the brightest vision, bringing in its train woe and mourning.
MILES MCDONALD is dead! So the telegraph announced to us at an early hour Monday morning. And he died while battling with the enemies of his country and liberty. Yes, he, too, has fallen a victim to the accursed rebellion that has swept away so many of the best and bravest of our people. While engaged with the enemy in the battle before Petersburg, Thursday las [sic], he fell mortally wounded, and subsequently his bright spirit sped its way to that Great Ruler from whence it came. He was a noble fellow, and as pure a patriot as ever offered up his life in defence of the liberties of the people. When the 63d Regiment was organized [sic], full of the enthusiasm and ardor that distinguished devotion to country, he enlisted as a private, and marched to the battle-field.
It was in October, 1861, he enrolled his name on the muster of Capt. Branagan's company, and when he left us the best wishes and earnest prayers of hosts of friends that he might be preserved from the perils and dangers of a soldier's life went with him. There was no truer man in the ranks of that gallant regiment. His many noble trails of character soon made him a universal favorite, and for his gallantry and heroic bravery at the battle of Antietam he was promoted to a 2d Lieutenantcy. His promotion excited the most profound satisfaction among his comrades, who had learned to love him as a brother. At the first battle of Fredericksburg he was wounded, and soon after was promoted to a 1st Lieutenantcy as a reward for meritorious conduct. Subsequently he was assigned to the Adjutancy of the regiment, and it was, while acting in this capacity, before Petersburg he was killed. He was but twenty-four years of age, and yet he was a most skilful and accomplished officer; and, had his life been spared, would probably have very soon been appointed Major of the regiment. When a boy he entered the service of the New York, Albany and Buffalo Telegraph Company as a messenger, and retained that position for several years, winning for himself the good opinion of the officers of the Company, and of the patrons of the line with whom he was brought in contact. After surrendering this situation he went to New York and accepted a clerkship, which he held until a short time previous to his enlistment in the 63d regiment. Although he never enjoyed the advantages of a high school education, he was possessed of fine natural talents, and his letters to us, show him to have been gifted with more than ordinary ability. His last epistle to us was published by us on the 21st inst., and will be remembered by all our readers, as one of the most interesting communications ever appearing in our columns.
If then the brave are mourned so deeply by their comrades in battle, who can paint the feelings of anguish and woe experienced by their families and friends at home, when the dread news appear in the public print, with the short but fatal word "killed!" placed after the name of a husband, father, son or brother. No more will the light tread of the departed cross the thresh-hold, watching with bounding heart the delight of the fireside group, eager to welcome the returning: soldier. In place of joyous meetings we find nothing but lonely graves, in some sunny spot of this once beautiful State, where it is affecting to mark with what simple kindness the surviving soldier buries his fallen comrade, selecting with nice cure a favorite spot as if to allure the first bright light of the rising sun to kiss the grassy mounds before its pure rays should rest upon any other object. There is something beautiful in a soldier's grave. From its simplicity alone it is more beautiful. The rustic head board, hastily penciled, speaks more of patriotism and love of country then all the monuments of cold marble chisled into most majestic form by the skillful hands of the artist. 
Those were the sentiments of Miles McDonald, the true-hearted soldier and noble patriot. He now fills a soldier's grave, and may "the bright light of a rising sun ever kiss the grassy mound before its pure rays rest upon any other object" is the heartfelt wish of one who knew him from childhood, and has watched, with pride and pleasure, his advancement in life.
It was but yesterday morning his mother received a letter from him, and while a brother was perusing its welcome pages, the anxious mother carefully scrutinizing the columns of the EXPRESS discovered "that short but fatal word 'killed,' " in connection with the name of her dearly beloved child. The agony of that discovery no tongue can call. Let us draw a veil over the sorrow stricken home of the dead hero, and pray God that the heart-broken mother and those now bowed down with grief may receive that consolation which He who afflicts can alone afford.

ADJUTANT MILES MCDONALD.—The electric wires furnished us yesterday morning the sad intelligence of the death of Adjutant Miles McDonald, 63d Regiment. Adjutant McDonald was well known in this, the city of his birth. For several years he was employed as messenger for the New York, Buffalo and Albany Telegraph Company, in this city. At the outbreak of the rebellion he relinquished his situation and enlisted as a private in Captain Brannigan's Company, 63d Regiment. He displayed great bravery in front of the enemy and shortly after the battle of Antietam he received a commission as 2d Lieutenant. At the first Fredericksburgh fight while gallantly leading his men, he fell seriously wounded. As a reward of meritorious conduct he was again promoted—receiving a 1st Lieutenant's commission. Shortly afterwards he was promoted to Adjutant of the regiment, a position which he filled with marked ability, participating in every battle, and always found in the thickest of the fight encouraging his brave and valiant troops on to victory. Albany has lost many brave sons, who fell victims to this accursed rebellion, but none whose death will be more deely [sic] deplored than that of Adjutant Miles McDonald.

THE LATE ADJUTANT MCDONALD.—The remains of the late Adjutant Miles McDonald, accompanied by Col. Bently, will reach this city by the boat on Sunday morning. Adjutant McDonald enlisted as private in the 63d Regiment, New York Volunteers, and was gradually promoted for his efficiency and worth to a First Lieutenancy. While acting in this capacity he was offered a Captain's commission, but preferred the post of Adjutant, to which he was afterwards assigned. A short time before his death he was recommended for the post of Major by his commanding officer, and his commission was ordered to issue by Gov. Seymour. But before this well-earned and deserving honor could reach him, he had passed away. He was wounded in the groin in the desperate charge before Petersburg on the 16th, and died in the hospital a few hours after. Thoroughly imbued with the military spirit, he was one of the most active and meritorious young men who have gone out from among us. He fell in the thickest of the fight, in the 24th year of his age, leaving a widowed mother and many friends to mourn his untimely fate.
COLORS OF THE SIXTY-THIRD.—The old, battered and blood-stained colors of the gallant 63d Regiment, Col. Bentley, that have been borne nobly and successfully on almost every battle-field of the Peninsula, and at the fearful slaughter of Gettysburgh, will be on exhibition to-day, at the store of Pruyn & Son, hardware merchants. Their appearance speak a volume in the history of this Rebellion, and will kindle a fire of enthusiasm in the bosom of every beholder. MAJ. R. C. BENTLEY AND GEN. MEAGHER.--Major Bentley, of the 63d Regiment, who was wounded in the arm at the battle of Antietam, and who is now in this city, has received a letter from Gen. Meagher, extending his leave of absence, which closes as follows:—
I take much pleasure in returning you my sincere thanks for your gallantry and soldier-like conduct on the field. I trust to see you advanced in grade, as I desire and feel much gratification in recommending you for promotion.

WOUNDED.—Sergeant Joseph Elliott, of this city, member of Co. F, of the Sixty-third New York regiment, was wounded in the action before Petersburg on the 16th inst. His brother was wounded on the 5th of May in the battle of the Wilderness.

AN ALBANY BOY SENTENCED TO BE SHOT.--Young Lynch, more commonly known as Polly Lynch, who deserted from the 63d Regiment, and was finally got back after a good deal of trouble, has been tried and convicted of desertion, and, on the 14th inst., was sentenced to be shot, at a time to be fixed by the commanding officer. The father of young Lynch lives in Jefferson street, is a mason by trade, and an exemplary man. Efforts are being made to get his sentence commuted.

PRESENTATION OF COLORS.--Two of the most beautiful flags we have ever seen are now on exhibition at Hastings News Room, Museum Building. They are the property of the 63d regiment, Col. R. C. Bentley, of this city, being the gift of some thirty-four gentlemen friends of the regiment in New York city. The name of the regiment, &c., upon each flag is done in the most elegant style of embroidery, surpassing anything of the kind ever exhibited here. The "Harp of Erin" stands out prominent upon the Green flag, which bears the following inscription: "Presented by citizens of New York to the 63d N. Y. S. V., (3d Regiment of the Irish Brigade) Brigadier General Thos. Francis Meaghar, commanding, in grateful appreciation of their gallant and brilliant conduct in the battle-fields of Virginia and Maryland, in the war to maintain the National domain and the American Union, November 1862." Each flag also bore the name of of [sic] several battles in which the members of the regiment shed their life's blood, viz.:—Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Yorktown, Fair Oaks, Gaines' Mill, Allen's Farm, Savage's Station, White Oak Bridge, Glendale, Malvern Hill, Antietam, Gettysburg and Bristoe's Station A silver band arround [sic] the flag staff has inscribed upon it the names of the generous donors. These flags cost nearly one thousand dollars. That they will not be dishonored the past noble deeds of the regiment fully testify.

GOOD FOR THE BOYS.—Some two months ago the following named gentlemen opened a recruiting office over Johnson's Jewelry Store, since which time they have at their own expence [sic] raised a company, at whose hands they have received each a splendid Sword, Sash and Belt appropriately engraved as follows: "Presented to Col. R. C. Bentley, Capt. A. S. GILCHRIST, First Lieutenant Geo. J. Benjamin, and Second Lieut. D. H. REED, by the Officers and Privates (as the case might be) of Co. H, 63d Regt., N. Y. V Vol's" The Swords &c., are on exhibition in D. J. Dunn's crockery windows with the exception of the Captain's, which is now at Owego, and compares favorably with the others. It will gratify the friends of the above named gentlemen to look in at Dunn's window and see the testimonials of regard of which they have been the honored recipients. We understand they were furnished by Stuart & Ufferd, who have more of the same sort left. (April 1864)