The Sun.
London, England, 1862-07-01 00:00:00

THE CIVIL WAR IN AMERICA•

(From the Times Correspondent.)
OFF YORKTOWN, VIRGINIA, JUNE 13.
The news of the battle at Harrislnburg tempted '
me to postpone my trip to White-house and APClel-
lan's head-quarters, and to go up to Blenker's divi-
sion to hear all about the recent fight ; but wounded
officers coming to Washington from there told me
that it would be very uncertain where to find Blen-
ker, because Fremont, although sleeping on the
battlefield, had thought it more prudent to retire in
the morning. I had been told that General Fre-
mont's army corps had been reinforced, and num-
bered
42,000 men ; but such was not the Me. Be-
sides Blenker's very much reduced division, he had

but two regiments.
Except from General Fremont's report, I heard
but little about the battle near Harrisonburg, the
officers not knowing much. Colonel Wutschell's
regiment lost half of its men, and the colonel was
himself wounded. He had formerly taken part in
the revolution in Vienna in 1849, and became
colonel of the Bth New York Regiment on the pro-
motion of General Blenker. With him came to
Washington the Colonel of the De Kalb Regiment,
Colonel von Tilsa, who also was wounded by a
Minie ball entering his left breast above the heart.
He had been an officer in the Prussian army. What
brought him over some years ago to New York I do
not know, but I know him to be the best of all the
colonels in Blenker's division, where he was very
much respected and beloved by his officers and
men. Should he die of his wound, it would be a
serious loss. The death of Colonel Ashby has been
confirmed. His death is worth a won battle, for he
was a very able man and a cavalry officer of great
renown among the Confederates. On Wednesday,
Tune 11, I went to Baltimore, and by the steamer
Adelaide to Fortress Monroe, where I found a few
more vessels aground than when I left, and many
more sick and wounded, who came from the battle-

field of Fair Oak.
The steamer going up York River left a little
after 10 a.m. I met there a gentleman from Phila-
delphia, who had received a telegraphic despatch
from the captain of the company in which his son
served, informing him that his son was mortally
wounded. Another son the poor father had lost

already on the Potomac.
The York River is a very large, beautiful stream,
so wide that you can just see the low, wooded
shores, and deep enough, as I was told, for the
Great Eastern to go up some 70 miles. Towards
Yorktown the river narrows a little, but it is yet at
least one mile and a half wide. There was a whole
fleet at anchor between Yorktown and Gloucester,
on the other side, and I made up my mind to go on
shore at Yorktown to have a look at the fortifica-
tions, and to proceed up stream next morning.
Near Yorktown there are some wooded sand
bluffs of inconsiderable height, and of the town you
see only two or three houses, over one of which is
waving a very large Union flag. The water bat-
tery, not far from the landing, and the other forti-
fications to be seen from the water, looked very poor
and dilapidated, but I hoped to find them better on
the other side of the town.
On landing I gave my things to a nigger, and
ordered him to take me to the best hotel, where I
intended to stay the night. The black fellow looked
astonished; in fact, every soldier meeting me looked
astonished at the sight of a civilian. "Is it far to
the town ?" I asked my ',intelligent contraband.
" No," he answered, "we are there." " Where?"
"At Yorktown." I opened my eyes almost as wide
as the nigger, but with all that I could not see the
slightest sign of a town—nothing but four or five
miserable-looking houses, four or five ruins, and a
great many wooden barracks, over each of which
was written " Hospital," and before which were
sitting or crawling wounded soldiers. At some of
the corner barracks were newly written, " Lincoln-
avenue," " M'Clellan-avenue," "Porter-street,"
" Rambler-street," &c. ; but there was nothing be-
sides the names and some log huts, out of which
were peeping black faces, and before which were
rolling about heaps of black children.
There was no hotel in that place. but, asking at
the tent over which was written " Provost Mar-
shal," I heard that one of the four or five houses
was a boarding-house, where I might perhaps find'
accommodation. There I accordingly went, but
the gruff owner of that house told me that I could
have no bed, nor, in fact, anything; that he did not
want me. He repeated this in a rather rude man-
ner to a clergyman who interfered in my behalf,
and only with great difficulty I got the permission
to place my things inside the inhospitable house, to
look out for some shelter and food.
One of the brickhouses, and the second best among
the few, although of a mean and miserly appearance,
had belonged to an old fellow named Anderson, who
died some time ago, about 80 years of age. He owned
almost all Yorktown, and seems to have been a very
queer old fellow. The ruins not far from his house
dated from the first siege under Washington, and
Anderson would not permit them to be rebuilt. In
fact, he was very much averse to any alterations
and improvements, and chiefly to him it is owing
that Yorktown, instead of becoming a thriving city,
is nothing but a village of the meanest description.
One of the wooden buildings is a church, but it looks
rather like a barn. Some pious people once pro-
posed to build a church if Anderson would only give
the ground. The old fellow stroked his long white
beard and said he was willing, if the petitioners
would only allow him one condition in the agree-
ment, which was to be signed by the churchwardens.
The pious people readily complied with this request,
but were very much shocked on hearing this condi-
tion to be, that every clergyman, of whatever per-
suasion, and even the devil himself, should be per-
mitted to preach in that church. When that strange
fellow died he left his property to his niggers, many
of whom were mulattoes, and nearly related to him.
Long before his death he had his coffin in his room,
saying to his niggers that he was going only for a
time, and that he certainly would return if they did
not behave well.
The most stately building of Yorktown belonged
to the Nelson family. It is a substantial good old
brick house, which looks yet comfortable, old as it
is. On one side you still see many traces of gun-
shots from the first siege. One of the shots passed
through the wall, and went through several rooms
full of people without hurting one of them.
Strolling around the wooden church, some grave-
stones indicated that there was a churchyard. It
looked desolate and wretched. Some of the crosses
were torn down, the graves levelled, and waggons
and carts going over them. If you can find nothing
else to tell you the history of a place the churchyard
will give you at least some glimpses or the past, and
I began to read the inscriptions on the f"
graves
which had not been demolished. The oldest I saw
was that of Thomas Nelson :
" Generosi filius Hugonis et Saria3 Nelson de Penrith,
in comitatu Cumbria©, natus 20mo die Feb. A.D.
He died in 1745. His tombstone is headed by his
arms, bearing a bar and three lilies. A few paces
from this grave is the tomb of another Nelson :
"Hon. William Nelson, Esq.,
late President of his
Majesty's Council in this dominion, in whom the lore of
man and the love of God se restrained and enforced each
other, and so invigorated the mental power in general, as
not only to defend him from the vices and follies of his age
and country, but also to render it a matter of difficult deci-
sion in what part of laudable conduct he most excelled,
whether in tender or endearing accomplishments of domestic
life, or in the more arduous duties of a wider circuit;
whether as a neighbour, a gentleman, or a magistrate ;
whether in the graces of hospitality or piety. Reader, if
you feel the spirit of that exalted ardour which, aspiring to
the felicity of conscious virtue, animated that
relating . . . min admonitions, perform the task and
respect the distinction of the righteous man. Ob. 19th
Nov„ An. Dom. 1772, 2Etatis 61."
On another gravestone I found,—
"Here lieth interred the body of Mary Sansum, who
departed life the 23d of Oct., 1785, aged 23 years."
And on another,—
" Here lieth the body of Jane Frank, the daughter of
Arr. W. Routh, of Kirklington in Yorkshire. She died on
her
passage at sea April 26, and was interred May 28,
1753, aged 28 years."
The sun was fiercely hot, and I was both thirsty
and hungry. Asking a man who passed by for a
place where I might get something to eat, he said,
in a strong German accent, that there was not
much to eat in chat place, and that Gen. M'Clellan
had forbidden antlers to follow the army, or any
private supplies to be brought up the river. He, how-