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My father all this time was working in the iron-works of J. B. Green & Co., located below Mill Creek. This establishment made plates and rails. As soon as the war broke out the government commenced to build up a naval force on the Ohio River for service in Southern waters the Ohio and Mississippi and their tributaries. It was fortunate for the Union cause that this was done, for these gun boats did effective work at Fort Donelson, Island No. 10, Shiloh, Belmont and Vicksburg. The place where my father worked was transformed into a government workshop to make iron plates which covered these boats. The ordinary freight and passenger packets in their river trade were thus converted into what were called "iron-clads." Thus the government had a substantial and dangerous naval force. The men, my father among the number, engaged in manufacturing these plates were not allowed to enlist, because their labor was as essential as military service in the field. Nevertheless, they were being drilled daily; in vacation time I carried my father's dinner to him and I saw the men being put through the manual of arms every noon. This was done so that if an emergency arose calling for their services, they would know something of military tactics and discipline.

I was going to school now (1862) and was in my eighth year, but all that I saw of the war thus far was marching soldiers and the building of "iron-clads" on the river. Every Sunday I went with my father to see this going on, and often we would see soldiers embarking for the South. The realism of the war, the attending sense of danger and its calamities were unknown to me. But it was not long before I was to obtain a glimpse of its distressful phases. After the battle of Shiloh (fought April 6 and 7) my boy-mind got the first serious impression of its cruelties and sorrows. The battle had been a sanguinary one, and many Ohio regiments were engaged in it. The wounded and dead of these troops were brought to Cincinnati- the former for hospital treatment and the latter for home destination. On the day of their arrival from the battlefield on the lower Tennessee River, thousands of people were assembled to see the sad sight of debarkation. I was there with my mother. The river grade, at the foot of which the boats landed, was covered with spectators; it seemed as if all Cincinnati was there. It was a sad scene as the hundreds of dead and wounded were transferred to ambulances, carriages and drays and conveyed to the street above. It was an entirely different war crowd from that I had been seeing before. Then there were life, cheers, music and joy; now, the

people were silent and sorrowful, and many women were weeping. Strange to say, my feelings as a boy on this occasion were not those of grief or sadness, but of anger, I did not appreciate death; I had never seen a dead person, and the numerous bodies in boxes gave no opportunity to impress my mind with its ages-old terror. But I was inflamed that the rebels should kill Union soldiers, so as I wended my way home holding my mother's hand I was mad and wished I was a man so I could go to the war. I was expressing the primal instinct of man to go to the rescue of his clan, out of which had developed patriotism or love of country.

The following summer (1862) was one of continuing terror for the people of Cincinnati. Its location made it an easy prey to the enemy, as Kentucky being debatable ground, was occupied by thousands of Confederate troops as well as Union soldiers. It was the desire of the Confederates, under favorable conditions, to attack the nearest and most populous city of the North within their reach. They realized the value of such a prize, and the effect such a movement would have on the Union cause. Cincinnati expected it, although it was poorly prepared for defense. The first attempt towards this was made by General John Morgan, a daring Confederate raider, who marched through Kentucky, apparently with Cincinnati as his goal. The rumors of his approach threw the city into a panic. The Governor sent troops and arms which were immediately dispatched to Lexington, Kentucky, to stop the enemy's advance. I am reciting history as it was made. My own recollections are not so definite, but I remember clearly the excitement which filled the city and the fear expressed by the women. Strange to say, the effect was entirely different upon me. I was anxious that Morgan should come, so that there would be fighting. For be it remembered that we boys were still marching and drilling; we now had imitation guns with bayonets, soldier caps, and the captain carried a tin sword. We were thoroughly imbued with a militant and patriotic spirit. Aside from these things, boys of eight are born hero-worshippers, and we had absorbed from our elders knowledge of the battles and generals. General McClellan was our first hero, afterwards General Grant was our idol. We knew that he had won Fort Donelson and Shiloh. At school we had fist fights with boys who were opposed to Lincoln and the war. So in this spirit and in the glorious innocence of youth we were not afraid of Morgan, but wanted to see a battle. Fortunately we were spared from the dangers we did not realize, as General Morgan and his forces, doubtless believing that discretion was

better than valor, directed his troops to other fields of action, and Cincinnati for the time was safe.

But later in the summer the city was again in the throes of fright over a second threatened invasion. This time it was General Kirby Smith at the head of twenty thousand troops, a large part of which were already at Lexington, with Cincinnati, Newport and Covington the objectives. The Governor of Ohio sent troops to these cities, and General Lew Wallace was placed in command. He declared the cities under martial law. All business was suspended, except groceries, drug stores and markets, which were allowed open until nine o'clock in the morning. We youngsters were not allowed upon the streets at any time unless accompanied by an adult. Every morning I went with my mother to the corner grocery, and in order that we might see the military activities we returned home by the street fronting the river which was several blocks out of Otherwise we could not have seen the sights, as every one had to show a pass to go near the river. But as we were going home with groceries in our arms we were not stopped. The chief military activities were on the river front. Here the troops were getting ready for movement. On the river they were constructing a pontoon bridge over which the troops, horses, artillery and supplies intended for the defense of the city should pass to Kentucky. There were no bridges over the Ohio River at Cincinnati at this time, so this temporary bridge was made by placing empty coal barges at fixed distances apart, connecting them with timbers, over which planks were placed, thus making a safe passageway across the river. Mother and I saw this work going on every morning. I was deeply interested because it was all new and curious. When it was completed, we saw it used daily.

our way.

One night my father and his fellow-workers were among the thousands that passed over into Kentucky. General Wallace had called for volunteers to construct entrenchments back of Covington and Newport, and thousands responded. Thus miles of fortifications were thrown up for the use of infantry and artillery. I remember my father coming home one day during this period in the middle of the morning. My mother was frightened when she saw him, for she supposed he was either injured or discharged; when he told her he was going to Kentucky to work on the fortifications she was calmer, but cried for a long time. It was the first time I had ever seen her shed tears. I was proud of my father, and was not at all downhearted. He was gone ten days, and my mother spent the time making lint for use of the possible wounded. She went to

the Betts Street Hospital to get the linen and worked long into the night after I had gone to sleep. During the "siege," as it was called, we boys "played soldier" in the backyards, as the street was forbidden ground. In ten days, however, all was over, and the city relapsed into its peaceful status. The Confederate forces saw such a determined preparation meet them that their offensive was abandoned. So school-life was re

sumed to the disgust of the militant youngsters, and we again became that popular figure of Shakespeare:

The whining school-boy, with his satchel,

And shining morning face, creeping like a snail
Unwillingly to school.

Yet there was enough going on in Cincinnati to vary the monotony of school life, and, thanks to my mother, I saw at least a part of everything of importance. She had her share of feminine curiosity, and was always on hand to see things, and, as I was her only child, when not at school was always under her eye. Hence I became her willing companion on the little journeys narrated herein. I remember going with her this summer to Sixth Street Market place to see General John Morgan's men who were captured in Southeastern Ohio. They were brought down the river and were on their way to Camp Chase a military prison at Columbus, Ohio. They numbered about a thousand, and were resting in and about the market house awaiting orders to start on their journey. And a ragged, tired and down-hearted looking crowd they were. What struck me most was the fact that they were all so young; I saw some who were mere boys, and, it seemed to me, not much older than myself. I gave one of them an apple; for which he thanked me kindly. They were well treated by the citizens and were served with plenty of food and hot coffee.

For a boy I had thus far seen different phases of war life, but in September following I witnessed an event that left the most striking impression on my mind of all those I had seen. This was the funeral procession of General William H. Lytle, who had been killed at the battle of Chickamauga, and was brought to Cincinnati for burial. General Lytle was one of its most distinguished citizens, and belonged to one of its oldest families. Although he was but thirty-seven years old, he had served as a Captain in the Mexican War, and was promoted to General in the Civil War, having entered as a colonel. He was a lawyer of distinction and a poet of note. His best known poem is the famous "Address of Antony to Cleopatra" commencing:

I am dying, Egypt, dying.

During my later school-days it was a favorite subject for recitation. General Lytle was sincerely beloved by Cincinnati, and its people did not conceal their mourning. They showed by a popular display of sorrow. So again from our second story window from which I saw so many political and military processions, I viewed the one that escorted his remains to Spring Grove Cemetery. I have seen many pageants in my life, civic, religious and political, but never one of such solemnity and dignity; none that so deeply affected me. Notwithstanding that it was but the customary military funeral, the war time, the heroic dead, my age and the tensity of all that I was in communion with made it most impressive; and again, I was witnessing for the first time in my life a dramatic tribute to unconquerable Death with a great popular hero as the victim. The sad purpose of the event and its somber surroundings were sufficient to make it a spectacle calculated to awe the mind of a boy. The slow and subdued minor notes of the dead march, the measured tread of a thousand soldiers with their arms reversed, and the silent and uncovered bystanders clothed the solemn scene in the habiliments of woe. But the most pathetic feature was the General's white war-horse with his master's boots hanging reversed in the stirrups, walking slowly, led by a groom, behind the artillery caisson on which rested the casket, covered by an American flag. Those who witnessed all this felt its sobering and inspiring effects, and we children never spoke of it except with awe.

This incomplete autobiography is in Mr. Ryan's best literary style. Great indeed is the loss of the Ohio State Archæological Society in the passing of one of its members who wrote so well.

MONOGRAPHS, ADDRESSES AND CONTRIBUTIONS TO PERIODICALS BY DANIEL J. RYAN

A PARTIAL LIST.

A Defense of the High School. 1883.

II PP.

Why Americans Should Aid Ireland. 1886. 13 PP.

On the Convict Labor System. 1884. 6 pp.

Nullification in Ohio. 1888.

Constitutional Reform. 1890.

II pp.

30 pp.

Home Rule in Ohio. 1890. 16 pp.

Taxation. 1892. 32 PP.

The Cuban Question in American Diplomacy. 1897. 7 pp.

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