In order that
these might not be crowded, Lieutenant Chalaron, with one or two
others, rode on the top of a box-car for twelve hours, from Knoxville
to Chattanooga, exposed to the inclement weather which he was ill
prepared to meet, having shared the inexpressible hardships of the
Kentucky campaign, including destitution of suitable clothing. I take
pleasure in recording this noble act, because Lieutenant Chalaron was
from New Orleans (also my own beloved home). The impulse of
self-sacrifice, and of chivalrous devotion towards the helpless and
suffering, sprung from a heart pulsating with the knightly blood of
the Creole of Louisiana. Ah, that impetuous blood which stirred at the
first call to arms, which was poured out in continual libations to
Southern liberty, from the time it gushed from the breast of the first
martyr of the war (our Charlie Dreux), until almost in the "last
ditch," piled high with masses of Confederate dead, lay the gory body
of _Edgar Dreux_, the very topmost man, proving how invincible was the
courage that quailed not at the sight of that ghastly altar of
sacrifice!
The large brick court-house in the centre of the town of Ringgold was
especially devoted to my use.
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