f Sergeant Rivers was a natural king among my dusky soldiers, Corporal
Robert Sutton was the natural prime-minister. If not in all respects the
ablest, he was the wisest man in our ranks. As large, as powerful, and
as black as our good-looking Color-Sergeant, but more heavily built and
with less personal beauty, he had a more massive brain and a far more
meditative and systematic intellect. Not yet grounded even in the
spelling-book, his modes of thought were nevertheless strong, lucid, and
accurate; and he yearned and pined for intellectual companionship beyond
all ignorant men whom I have ever met. I believe that he would have
talked all day and all night, for days together, to any officer
who could instruct him, until his companions, at least, fell asleep
exhausted. His comprehension of the whole problem of Slavery was more
thorough and far-reaching than that of any Abolitionist, so far as its
social and military aspects went; in that direction I could teach him
nothing, and he taught me much. But it was his methods of thought which
always impressed me chiefly: superficial brilliancy he left to others,
and grasped at the solid truth.

Of course his interest in the war and in the regiment was unbounded; he
did not take to drill with especial readiness, but he was insatiable
of it, and grudged every moment of relaxation. Indeed, he never had
any such moments; his mind was at work all the time, even when he was
singing hymns, of which he had endless store. He was not, however, one
of our leading religionists, but his moral code was solid and reliable,
like his mental processes. Ignorant as he was, the "years that bring the
philosophic mind" had yet been his, and most of my young officers seemed
boys beside him. He was a Florida man, and had been chiefly employed in
lumbering and piloting on the St. Mary's River, which divides Florida
from Georgia. Down this stream he had escaped in a "dug-out," and after
thus finding the way, had returned (as had not a few of my men in other
cases) to bring away wife and child. "I wouldn't have left my child,
Cunnel," he said, with an emphasis that sounded the depths of his strong
nature. And up this same river he was always imploring to be allowed to
guide an expedition.

Many other men had rival propositions to urge, for they gained
self-confidence from drill and guard-duty, and were growing impatient of
inaction. "Ought to go to work, Sa,--don't believe in we lyin' in camp
eatin' up