Gen. Philip H. Sheridan.

     Standing on the plaform in the Cyclorama of the
battle of Missionary Ridge, at the Pan-American Ex-
position, one could not fail to notice the figure of a
man of small stature on foot, at the head of his men,
charging up the hill to take the breastworks on the
summit.
     At the foot of the hill an aide held two horses.
One of them was Gen. Phil Sheridan's. He had dis-
mounted after taking the first line of rifle pits and was
pressing on toward the second. Orders came from
Grant to take only the first line but it was too late.
The impetuous Sheridan was pushing up the hill in the
face of a storm of bullets. To order the men back was
out of the question. They rushed on with a cheer,
carried the second line of rifle pits and met the enemy
in a desperate hand-to-hand struggle. The Confeder-
ates were driven from their guns and sent flying down
the opposite slope, pursued by a shower of stones from

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 the Union men who had not time to reload. Before
all of Sheridan's men had reached the crest, the de-
moralized troops of Bragg were seen with a large train
of wagons, flying along the valley, half a mile away.
     This is where the star of Phil. Sheridan began its
ascendency. A few months later, Grant on becoming
Commander-in-chief, selected the great cavalry leader
to assist him in Virginia. Sheridan's work in the
Shenandoah valley is a part of the history of the
Civil War.
     Grant had his hands full in front of Richmond.
General Early went up the Shenandoah into Mary-
land, threatened Washington, Baltimore, and even
Philadelphia. Sheridan waited some weeks, maneu-
vering. The country was impatient. Grant visited
him for the purpose of suggesting a plan of opera-
tions; but he found Sheridan ready for battle and only
waiting for an opportune time to strike. Grant re-
turned without giving any suggestions. Finally Early
divided his command and the shrewd Irishman from
Perry county "struck." He attacked him, flanked him
right and left, broke the Confederate lines in every
direction, and sent the defeated troops "whirling
through Winchester" with a loss of 4,500 men.
     A partial victory was not characteristic of Sheri-
dan. He pursued Early thirty miles, and just when
the Confederate General began to feel himself safe,
he was attacked again by the energetic Sheridan and
was completely routed with 1,100 men and sixteen
guns captured.
     Again he pursued him, driving him out of the val-
ley and into the gaps of the Blue Ridge. "Keep on"
said Grant, "and your work will cause the fall of
Richmond." These victories electrified the North,

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while the South was equally cast down. Early's troops
were disheartened. The Richmond mob, disgusted at
Early's repeated defeats, sarcastically labeled the new
cannon destined for his use:

TO GENERAL SHERIDAN,
CARE OF GEN. EARLY.

Sheridan had devastated the Shenandoah so com-
pletely that it would not furnish support to his army.
It was said that a crow would have to carry his pro-
visions with him if he went into that section. Sheridan
retired to Cedar Creek. From here he was called to
Washington for consultation. While he was absent,
the enemy attacked his forces in camp, drove them back
in disorder and captured eighteen guns and 1,000
prisoners. Sheridan had stopped over night in Win-
chester. At nine o'clock that morning, while riding
toward the camp, he heard the sound of heavy firing,
and he knew at once that a battle was in progress.
Soon he began to meet the fugitives from his own army.
Taking in the situation at a glance, he rode forward at
a gallop swinging his hat and shouting, "Face the other
way, boys, face the other way!" We are going back
to lick them out of their boots!"
     The scattered soldiers faced about and taking up
the General's cry "Face about," met the enemy and
forced them to a stand. The presence of Sheridan had
as much effect on the Confederates to terrorize them
as it had to rally the Union forces. They precipitately
fled, leaving twenty-four guns, 1,600 prisoners and
1,800 killed and wounded.
     Sheridan remained at Winchester till the spring of
'65 when he went to join Grant at Richmond. On his

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way he again met his old enemy and they fought their
final battle. Early's force laid down their arms and
surrendered. His army and reputation had both been
destroyed. Lee relieved him and he retired in dis-
grace.
     The daring ride of Sheridan stands pre-eminently
as one of the greatest achievements of American gen-
eralship. Celebrated in song and story as it is, it is
with some degree of pride that Perry countians re-
member that the hero was once a boy in Somerset.
     It is thought appropriate to insert here the well-
known poem, by T. Buchanan Read, who wrote it in
Cincinnati, November 1, 1864. The same evening it
was recited by James E. Murdoch, the elocutionist, at
Pike's Opera House. It was received with great en-
thusiasm. The audience was completely carried away,
So intensely were their feelings wrought upon that
one man exclaimed after the last stanza. "Thank God!
I was afraid Sheridan would not get there."

    Up from the South at break of day,
     Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
     The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
     Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door,
     The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,
     Telling the battle was on once more,
     And Sheridan twenty miles away.

     And wider still those billows of war
     Thundered along the horizon's bar;
     And louder yet in Winchester rolled
     The roar of that red sea uncontrolled,
     Making the blood of the listener cold,
     And he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
     An Sheridan twenty miles away.

     But there is a road from Winchester town,
     A good, broad highway leading down;

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    And there, through the flush of the morning bright,
     A steed as black as the steeds of night,
     Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight,
     As if he knew the terrible need;
     He stretched away with his utmost speed;
     Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay,
     With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

     Still sprung from those hoofs, thundering South,
     The dust like smoke from a cannon's mouth,
     On the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
     Forboding to traitors the doom of disaster,
     The heart of the steed and the breath of the master
     Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
     Impatient to be where the battlefield calls;
     Every nerve of the charger was trained to full play,
     With Sheridan only ten miles away.

     Under his spurring feet the road
     Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
     And the landscape sped away behind
     Like an ocean flying before the wind;
     And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,
     Swept on, with his wild eyes full of fire.
     But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire;
     He is snufifing the smoke of the roaring fray,
     With Sheridan only five miles away.

     The first that the General saw were the groups
     Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;
     What was done ? What to do ? a glance told him both.
     Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,
     He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas,
     And the waves of retreat checked its course there, because
     The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
     With foam and dust the black charger was gray;
     By the flash of his eye, and the red nostrils' play,
     He seemed to the whole great army to say,

     "I have brought you Sheridan all the way
     From Winchester down to save the day."

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         Hurrah ! hurrah! for Sheridan!
          Hurrah ! hurrah! for horse and man!
     And when their statues are placed on high,
     Under the dome of the Union sky ---
     The American soldiers' temple of fame ---
     There, with the glorious General's name,
     Be it said, in letters both bold and bright,
     "Here's the steed that saved the day,
     By carrying Sheridan into the fight
     From Winchester twenty miles away!"

     It is of interest to note that the "broad highway
leading down," is the National Road, passing through
the Refugee lands in the southern part of Licking
county.
     A few years ago, an old Virginian, ninety years of
age, who had had sons in the Confederate army, was
visiting friends in Perry county. Upon hearing that it
was the native county of Sheridan, he went to Somerset
to view his boyhood home. In speaking about it he said,
"I live in the Shenandoah valley. When I go home
I can tell the people I was where Sheridan was raised.
His name is still a terror to us."
     About twenty years ago, when the writer was a
mere boy, he discovered that Gen. Phil. Sheridan was
from Perry county by reading the following on the
"boiler plate" side of the New Lexington "Herald."

"WHY SHERIDAN WALKS."

     "A reporter was standing on the portico of the war de-
partment building a few afternoons ago, when the carriage
assigned to the general of the army drove up. General Phil.
Sheridan was standing on the portico with several friends.
It was a bright afternoon, and General Sheridan shook his
head, when the driver approached, and said: 'Never mind;
go back to the stable. I will walk home this afternoon.' One
of his friends, who had been intimate with him in Chicago,
remarked: 'That is a strange fancy of the General's. He

186

never wants a carriage for himself. He never uses one if
he can help it. If the day is fine he likes to walk down
town; and if it isn't he'd rather go home in a street car.
This may seem strange to you, as you may be aware of the
fact that he used to be noted for fondness for horseflesh.
Officers who served under him during the late war used to
say that he appeared superb when mounted, but I can tell
you the secret. When Phil. Sheridan's war horse died a few
years ago, his love for horse flesh went out of him. A gen-
tleman who knew him well in boyhood vouches for the truth
of the story that the first time Phil. Sheridan was ever on
a horse, was when Bill Seymour, a boy in Perry county,
Ohio, put him on a fiery animal, unsaddled, and told him to
hold on with his knees. Young Sheridan did so until the
horse had galloped about two miles across the country, when
the beast came to a halt. Phil. was still on his back holding
on with his knees. The feat became the talk of the county,
as gossip was scarce in those days. After that he was known
as an expert horseman."

     General Phil. Sheridan was not born in Perry
county, but in Albany, New York.  March 16,
1831, is his natal day. When only a few years old
his parents came to Somerset, where Phil. passed his
boyhood days. He clerked in the dry-goods store
of Finck and Ditto and from there, by the assistance
of General Ritchey, he went as a cadet to West Point,
where he graduated in 1853, thirty-fourth, in a class of
fifty-two. He served in the army of his country for
forty years. At the time of his death, at Nonquitt,
Massachusetts, in 1888, he was Lieutenant-General of
the Army. This position was never held but by three
other persons---Washington, Grant and Sherman. He
is buried in the National Cemetery, Arlington, where
so many of our soldiers sleep their last sleep. On a
beautiful hill side in this city of the dead, the Perry
county boy and the greatest of American Generals
awaits the call of the Angel of the Resurrection.

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