Produced by Stephanie Eason and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)









  BUGLE BLASTS,

  READ BEFORE THE
  OHIO COMMANDERY
  OF THE
  MILITARY ORDER
  OF THE
  Loyal Legion of the United States,


  BY COMPANION
  WILLIAM E. CRANE,
  Late Captain 4th O. V. C. and A. A. Adjt.-Gen.


  NOVEMBER 5, 1884.


  CINCINNATI:
  PETER G. THOMSON,
  1884.




BUGLE BLASTS.


To one who occupied a very small space in the War of the Rebellion--one
who filled but a modest position among those who sought to protect the
Nation's honor and life--it is a matter of difficulty, if not hazard, to
attempt to enlighten, or even entertain, such a body as that to whom
this paper is addressed. Certainly no attempt will be made, in this
case, to _enlighten_. If any thing new is furnished that shall also
prove interesting, the end will be subserved. There are those among us,
members of Ohio Commandery, who contributed largely to the grandeur, the
magnificence, the glory of that army of the Union from which this Order
sprang. There are those among us who _made_ pages, aye, chapters, of
history where great deeds are emphasized in blood; deeds that "throbbed
the Nation's heart." And this history is not for a day; not for our time
alone. It will go on down the ages to be read by grand-children and
their grand-children, who will point with pride to the illustrious
achievements and say: "These were my ancestors who fought in that great
war and did these glorious things!" What richer legacy can you hand
down? This is _fame_! This is _glory_! And do not these come of honest
ambition? But there are incidents, episodes, deeds that come under the
observation only of the few--sometimes of the individual--which, little
in themselves and seemingly inconsequential, help to make up the grand
story. It is an old, old story now, but the story has become history. A
full and true history of the late war has never been written--never will
be. But little links can be picked up--even as we pick up battered
bullets on old battle-fields--and these may be welded together to make a
completer chain. And this is, perhaps, our duty, the duty of those who
are permitted to enjoy the present. Let us also make it a pleasure.

I call this paper "Bugle Blasts" simply because that seems as
appropriate as anything. It refers to some incidents and experiences in
the cavalry; exciting and sometimes thrilling to those engaged, if not
interesting to him who hears the tale told.

Late in the winter of '62, when the movement on Fort Donelson was begun,
Buell began his movement on Bowling Green. The Third Division had the
advance and was commanded by General O. M. Mitchell, or "Star Mitchell"
as he was called in those days. February 10th Mitchell broke camp at
Bacon Creek, Kentucky, made a forced march to Bowling Green, driving the
rebel Hindman before him, and on February 22d started for Nashville. The
Fourth Ohio Cavalry, his advance regiment, was before Nashville on the
evening of the 23d, and received from the Mayor the surrender of the
city. The Third Division went into camp and the Fourth Ohio Cavalry was
placed _eight miles_ in the front, at the outposts, on the Murfreesboro
pike.

The cavalry of Buell's army had not received that attention requisite
for the most efficient service, and the Fourth Ohio was no exception.
There were no carbines in the regiment--only sabers and some unreliable
revolvers. One company, however (that of the writer's), was armed with
Colt's revolving rifles. These had been secured, some weeks before,
while the company was on special duty at Upton, Ky., by requisition on
Louisville, accompanied by considerable diplomacy, etc.--the "etc" to be
literally translated, and not given too liberal a construction. I say
the company was _armed_ with this formidable weapon. Perhaps it were
better to say _loaded_. The horse certainly was loaded when the trooper
mounted with this instrument slung on his back, clanking saber at his
side, and pistol in holster. It was cruelty to add the canteen and
haversack! But in those days we had no "S. P. C. A."

About three o'clock in the afternoon of March 8th the Colonel came to
our company headquarters and said he wanted the company to mount and go
in pursuit of a body of rebel cavalry said to be in the neighborhood.
Just as the order was issued an Orderly from Mitchell's headquarters
rode up excitedly and reported that John Morgan had captured the
regimental wagon-train, on its way out to camp with supplies, burned the
wagons and taken off teamsters, horses, and mules. And this only one
mile from camp--almost under our noses! Our Colonel's blood was up in an
instant, and in stentorian voice he shouted, "Company C, turn out with
your rifles!" This "_with your rifles_" had a flavor of business about
it, and the response was not only quick, but nearly unanimous.
Evidently, there was to be "music in the air," and there was an anxiety
to have the rifles come in at the right moment with the Bass. Four other
companies were ordered out. Then came the command, "Company C, forward
with the rifles!" and we dashed forward up the pike toward Nashville.
The report received was not a "grape-vine." Something near two miles
from camp, in the middle of the pike, were the ruins of our
wagon-train--some wagons still burning and some already in ashes. The
teamsters and animals were gone and no signs of friend or foe.

As afterward learned, the attacking party were Lieut.-Col. Wood with a
body of Mississippi cavalry and John Morgan's command. They had first
quietly taken in the pickets and then made a dash, from the woods, on
the train, capturing, with the teamsters, Capt. Braiden, an Aide of Gen.
Dumont's. Gen. Mitchell himself barely escaped capture, having ridden
along the pike about the same time. A halt was called and the road
examined to ascertain which way the enemy had gone. The trace was found
leading east through the woods. One Company was sent back to get
re-enforcements, and, with them, to strike into the timber from the
regimental camp to try and intercept the raiders. The original party,
headed by Col. Kennett, dashed into the woods, and then occurred a chase
the parallel to which has seldom been seen. "Forward!" was the word, and
forward it was. The woods became a thicket, sometimes apparently
impassable; but the horses, spurred by their riders, dashed at headlong
speed through the trees, through the underbrush, under branches--thorns
scratching the face and hands, projecting limbs tearing clothes and
bruising bodies. Down hill and up hill, through marsh and bog, over logs
and across streams, leaping obstacles, shouting, yelling, screaming, and
hurrahing, away we went--mud and leaves flying and dead limbs crushing
beneath horses' feet. Now the trail is lost and there is a halt to look
for footprints. How much of a start the raiders have can not be known,
but the trail must be fresh. Soon it is found and the horses gallop on
as full of spirit as their wildly excited riders. When the tracks
disappear in the forest leaves, the rebel course is now marked by
plunder lost or cast aside--overcoats, canteens, saddles, blankets, the
woods are full of them. Now and then an abandoned horse is seen.
Finally, we strike a narrow pike, follow it a mile or so and learn that
Morgan and Wood have divided their force, only the smaller part having
taken the course we are pursuing. We were after Morgan and the main
body, so turned back. It was precious time lost but the trail was again
struck, where they had crossed the pike, and once more a plunge was made
into the timber and cedars.

For miles the trees were so thick, and the foliage so dense, that it
became impossible to ride other than single file; but, retarded as was
our speed, the chase became hotter and more exciting than ever. The
Yankee blood of the hunters was at fever heat and they determined to run
the game to cover. The sight of an abandoned horse (and the hard-pressed
enemy was now leaving his own as well as our animals) was the signal
for a yell that the pursued might have heard and trembled at miles away.
Then spurs were clapped into horses' flanks to urge them still faster
on; and thus the column--if column that could be called which column was
none--swept, dashed, plunged onward. Occasionally a trooper was
dismounted by a projecting limb, and as he clambered out of the way, the
sympathetic cry was wafted back from some comrade, "Say, what infantry
rigi_ment_ does you'ns belong to?"

Now the Colonel's voice rings shrilly through the forest with the same
old talismanic "forward!" The refrain is taken up, sent back along the
column until the rearmost rider hears and shouts a returning echo, "We
are coming, father Abraham!" No cowardice there. No lagging behind from
choice. Every man was straining nerve and muscle to get ahead. We were
fast gaining on the enemy and they knew it, trembling at every shout
wafted to their ears. They grew desperate, dug the rowels into their
horses, cursed their prisoners, threatened them, shot at them to make
them keep up, and wounded one poor fellow to the death. These facts were
gleaned afterward.

We had gained rapidly and thought them almost within grasp. But "the
best laid plans of mice and men, etc., etc." Desperation nerved them and
they flew down the pike, scattering the stones behind. But we ran them
into the net prepared. The detachment that had gone out later from camp
struck the pike opportunely and received the enemy warmly as we drove
him into their arms. A brisk engagement followed, partly hand to hand.
The fight was soon over, the enemy being routed, scattered and driven in
every direction. At the onset Morgan, with his staff and a lot of
blooded horses, broke away and escaped across Stone river. Our command
being united and ready to move an inventory of affairs and effects was
taken. The enemy left four dead on the field, four sound captives in our
hands and two wounded. Of the ninety-four horses taken we recaptured
seventy-five; of the forty-eight teamsters, thirty-one, and also Capt.
Braiden. A number of rebels were wounded, but not seriously, and
escaped. One of the two wounded prisoners--Warfield by name--was related
to one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Cincinnati. The
other was a Mississippian, by the name of Love. The writer visited the
two in the regimental hospital that night. Love had a terrible wound,
and knew it was mortal, but his last breath was expended in cursing and
execrating the "Yankees" in the most horrible and vile language tongue
could utter.

The chase being over, the command returned--all except the Company with
the rifles, who were to continue the pursuit. Pushing on again we struck
the Murfreesboro pike, near Lavergne, and got on the heels of one
detachment, but these, knowing the country, broke for the cedars and
escaped. We saw no more of them and returned to camp at 8 P. M., after a
ride of about thirty miles, part of this on a keen run.

About a month after the incidents just related, the Fourth Ohio Cavalry
had the honor of capturing Huntsville, Ala., the "Queen City of the
Mountains." About the middle of March, 1862, Gen. Mitchell's Division of
Buell's army left Nashville and pushed south to Murfreesboro, thence to
Shelbyville, following the rebel Johnston, who had destroyed all bridges
behind him. From Shelbyville a rapid advance was made to Fayetteville,
then a hot-bed of Secession. Turchin's Brigade, with Simonson's Battery
and the Fourth Ohio Cavalry, had the van. The Fourth broke camp early
that morning, April 9th, at the loyal town of Shelbyville, with a three
o'clock reveille and timely "Boots and Saddles." Passing by the infantry
and Simonson's guns, the regiment rode briskly on to Fayetteville,
through the town, over the stone bridge at Elk river, and camped on the
same spot where Gen. Jackson had camped fifty years before, in 1812, a
spot convenient, pleasant, and _historic_. News of the victory at
Corinth reached us on the 10th, and there was enthusiastic joy and
joyful enthusiasm throughout the camp. The command set out at once for
Huntsville, the cavalry leading. Our route lay along a circuitous dirt
road and through a mountainous country. Twelve miles brought us to the
State line, marked by a high pole bearing the tattered remnants of a
rebel flag.

Now we are in Alabama. The plantations stretch out in beautiful
landscape and, as the innumerable negroes grin at us from every field
and fence, we are forcibly reminded that we are "in the land of cotton."
Halting at sundown to feed and await the remainder of the division, the
cavalry again moved on rapidly and went into bivouac at 10 P. M. At two
in the morning a detail of picked men was made to ride across the
country and tear up the track on the Memphis & Charleston Railroad
leading east from Huntsville. Pickets were also thrown out to intercept
all travel to and from the town. At four o'clock on the morning of April
11th the artillery and cavalry were in motion for Huntsville, eight
miles away. Nearing town the battery galloped on to the front, the
Fourth Ohio following close. It was a matter of all importance that the
place should be reached before any trains should leave; and when, two
miles off, the whistle of a locomotive sounded on our ears, every thing
was excitement and every horse put to its speed. Such a clatter never
before awoke the echoes among those Alabama hills. Yonder curls the
smoke and here comes the engine with but a single car, steaming eastward
across the plain. Simonson wheels a gun, lets fly a solid shot, and the
engine slackens speed, hesitates (as if to ask the meaning of all this),
and puffs quickly on. A shell speeds after it but fails in its intent.
However, the train can not escape altogether if our railroad wreckers
have safely reached their trysting-place. The locomotive may be ditched
and lost to us for service, but will hardly carry the news to
Leadbetter, at Bridgeport, that the Yankees have come.

Company A has orders and in an instant a dozen troopers have dismounted,
thrown down the stake-and-rider fence, and away goes the company across
the plain in hot pursuit--horse-flesh vieing with steam! But the
iron-limbed courser had the best bottom and whirled along amid a shower
of bullets--escaping for the time, but only to become prey to the
detachment up the road. Another whistle sounds and another train comes
in sight. Simonson's bull dog again barks--again ineffectually. A
repeated effort is more successful, and a shell crashes through the cab.
The cavalry company is on hand this time, and bang! bang! crack! crack!
go the carbines and revolvers and the balls whistle about the engineer's
head and rattle against the cars. The train stops and the passengers,
rebel soldiers and officers, leap to the ground and endeavor to escape.
A few succeed, but the majority are taken. The train is boarded and
brought back. Meanwhile the column dashes onward and goes whirling into
Huntsville. At the station is another train just leaving, with troops
who are going "on to Richmond." A cocked pistol held at the engineer's
head has the effect of shutting off steam and the train is placed under
guard. The regiment gallops up the street and through the town. Pickets
are thrown out on all the roads.

Black faces were at every door and window; blacks were at the gates, and
blacks were on the streets; but the "Chivalry" had evidently deserted
the place, except the few who viciously peered at us through the blinds,
robed in white. Perhaps it was too early for _white folks_, and our call
was untimely on that bright April morning--the clock had not yet struck
six--and perhaps they were too high toned to suffer Yankees to look upon
their faces. After reconnoitering the streets and gathering in a few
wearers of the gray the regiment was apportioned to various duties.

Another train had just pulled in, all unconscious of the reception
awaiting. This, too, was filled with soldiery from below, bound for
Richmond--four officers and 180 privates. At one of the hotels a Major
and three Captains were taken, and others at other points in town. The
full result of the early morning's work was 800 prisoners, 17
locomotives and a large number of cars. The locomotives themselves were
of incalculable value, and more than paid for the expedition if there
had been no other fruits; for they enabled Gen. Mitchell to push his
troops rapidly in every direction and hurry forward supplies. Without
them many of the results which soon followed could not have been
accomplished.

From the Sheriff the keys of the jail were demanded and a large number
of prisoners, loyal Tennesseans mostly, were liberated. Some of these at
once enlisted in the Union army. Huntsville was ours "and fairly won,"
without a casualty on our side or loss of any kind. * * *

In August, 1864, the army constituting "The Military Division of the
Mississippi," commanded by Gen. Sherman, lay in front of Atlanta. The
effort to flank Hood out of his position had not been successful and
Gen. Sherman announced a new plan of operations. In the new deal Gen.
Thomas was assigned to the left, Schofield given the right, and Howard
the center. Of the Cavalry, Gen. Garrard commanded the Second Division
and Gen. Kilpatrick the Third. A raid of formidable proportions was
projected on the Macon railroad, and Kilpatrick was to engineer this.
Gen. Sherman had said, in a message to Thomas, Aug. 16th, "I do think
our cavalry should now break the Macon road good." This raid of
Kilpatrick's, though not as full in fruition as was hoped, was of great
importance and is the subject of the following chapter. It was an
undertaking brilliant in conception, thrilling in its experience, and
deserving of historical record. Of the 2d Cavalry Division one Brigade
was absent. The 1st and 2d Brigades traveled all night the 17th of
August to Sand Town, where Kilpatrick was with the 3d Division. On the
morning of the 18th the following circular was published.

     "HEADQUARTERS CAVALRY EXPEDITION, }
     DEP'T CUMBERLAND,                 }
     SAND TOWN, GA., Aug. 18, '64.     }

     Soldiers! You have been selected from the Cavalry Divisions of the
     Army of the Cumberland; you have been well organized, equipped, and
     rendred formidable, at great expense, to accomplish an object vital
     to the success of our cause. I am about to lead you, not on a
     _raid_, but on a deliberate and well combined attack upon the
     enemy's communications, in order that he may be unable to supply
     his army in Atlanta. Two expeditions have already failed. We are
     the last Cavalry hope of the army. Let each soldier remember this
     and resolve to accomplish this, the great object for which so much
     is risked, _or die trying_!

     (Signed.) J. KILPATRICK,
     Brig.-Gen. Commanding."

At dark the two divisions (really, they were only _parts_ of two
divisions) moved southward. The expedition was designed to be a secret
one, and there were no bugle blasts to awaken the echoes of the still
night--bugle blasts that so thrill through the trooper's blood and nerve
him for the mount, the march, or the fray.

The 3d Division had the advance, and with it was the 10th Wisconsin
Battery of four pieces. The 2d had two sections of the "Chicago Board of
Trade Battery." Quietly as all had been planned, the movement was
already known in the rebel camp and our advance encountered an impeding
force early in the march. These fell back as we advanced but continued
harassing and delaying the column, and skirmishing was kept up all
night, a bright moon rendering some aid to both sides.

Friday morning, the 19th, the 2d Division struck the Atlantic & West
Point Railroad. Men from the advance division were already at work
tearing up the track, and one regiment--the 1st Ohio--was detailed from
the 2d Division to assist. A mile of track was soon destroyed.
Meanwhile, the rear of the moving column (Minty's Brigade) was attacked
by a force from the woods on the left with musketry and artillery. The
fighting soon became heavy. The 1st Ohio was ordered up to Minty's
relief, and a systematic attack made with good results, the enemy
retiring from sight. The march was resumed, but the enemy again showed
himself, and, selecting a good position on the flank, opened up a lively
salvo of artillery, playing his pieces well. Shells screamed through the
air over the moving column, and the 3d and 4th Ohio suffered seriously.
Considerable time was consumed in brushing off this force, whose evident
aim was to harass and not fight, but they were finally routed. From
prisoners taken we learned that Ross' Cavalry Brigade was our principal
opponent.

A detachment of 400 men was now sent forward to Griffin to destroy the
track there. The 2d Brigade of the 2d Division was ordered forward and,
on the Jonesboro road, struck the enemy. Skirmishing continued nearly
all day, the enemy falling back slowly and showing a disposition to
impede our progress as much as possible. At Flint river a strong force
was in position on the further bank and at the town of Jonesboro.
Pressing them with energy and our artillery playing lively airs they
were driven from their works, and we advanced across the bridge which
they had attempted to burn. Moving into and through the town the depot
was fired and the track destroyed.

The command now took a brief rest, having eaten nothing all day and not
having slept for over twenty-four hours. Marching again at 11, the 2d
Division passed south and reached the McDonogh road at daylight. At
Pittsburgh again turned south toward the railroad. The first few miles
developed nothing of interest, but, finally, during a temporary halt,
the rear guard was attacked and the 1st Ohio sent back to its support.
The enemy developed considerable strength and the 3d and 4th Ohio were
hurried to the scene. A sharp engagement, but brief, followed; the
opposing force was routed and the column again moved on--moved on to
encounter something of a foe more determined and with better staying
qualities. Minty led, and, striking the Macon road near Lovejoy's
Station, he dismounted the 4th Michigan to tear up the track. Hardly had
operations commenced when the regiment was suddenly and impetuously
attacked in front and driven back. Simultaneously an attack was made in
force on the right flank, which was met by the 7th Pennsylvania. A
detachment from Long's Brigade was dismounted and sent forward at double
quick. The skirmish line was being gradually forced back and a strong
line of infantry was developed coming out of the woods. This proved to
be Cleburne's Division. Long's entire brigade (the 2d) was now
dismounted and deployed on the right, while a line of breast-works was
thrown up in the rear. The firing became heavy on both sides. In front
the enemy was resolutely held for awhile and our men then fell back to
the works, whence a fire was opened that staggered the advancing lines
and threw them into some confusion. This enabled Lieut. Bennett, of the
battery, to bring off his two pieces which were near being lost. In this
affair we had several killed and wounded; of the latter two officers of
the 4th Ohio.

It was now apparent that not only was there a formidable force of
cavalry in the rear, but a large body of infantry, with cavalry and
cannon, in front. The dismounted regiments fell back and remounted under
severe musketry. Kilpatrick called a hurried council of the brigade
commanders. The foe was not only in front and rear but our flanks were
being enveloped. There was but one advisable course--to make a quick,
vigorous, desperate charge, break their lines, and cut our way out. The
decision was prompt. The force behind was evidently the weaker and was,
therefore, chosen for the attack.

The two brigades of the 2d Division were formed in two ranks, stretching
across a great corn-field, while the 3d Division formed behind them.
Sabers were drawn and, at the bugle signal, all galloped forward. The
Confederates saw the movement and tried valiantly to stem the onset.
Shells screamed overhead and grape and canister rattled like hail. Their
smaller arms, too, played briskly. It was a scene of wild and fierce
excitement. Owing to the irregular nature of the ground, after leaving
the corn-field no regular alignment was possible, and it soon became a
charge of squadrons, companies, squads, and single riders. Bullets
whistled and comrades fell, but the command spurred on to increased
speed--shouted, yelled and still dashed on. Over fences and gullies, and
then a wide ravine; through brush and dense timber, whose gnarled and
low-hanging branches literally tore men from their saddles; across a
great marsh where horses almost swamped--onward the resistless force
rushes and strikes the enemy fully and fairly. Sabers flash in the air,
pistols and carbines belch forth sulphur smoke. The unexpected movement,
the sudden and impetuous charge, as of victorious ranks rather than
desperate battalions essaying a forlorn hope, had amazed the confronting
foe; the fierce onset shattered his lines; he resists stubbornly for a
little while, then gives ground, turns to escape, and is routed
completely. But, meanwhile, his fire on our flank had been sharp and we
suffered severely. On a knoll on the left were two guns belching out
grape and canister. So galling was their fire that the charge was
greatly retarded on that flank. These must be silenced, and a force
dashes up the aclivity "into the very jaws of death." Every gunner is
killed or captured.

At such a time artillery was an awkward encumbrance, yet one piece was
brought off safely. Prisoners, too, were an encumbrance, and few were
taken along. They were simply disarmed and left on the field where
captured. Had time and circumstance permitted the rebel battery could
have been brought off as a trophy, and some hundreds of prisoners.
Consternation had evidently seized the rebel ranks, for they threw down
their arms by scores and begged for quarter. Our business was to cut
through and _get out_, and this was done, though many a noble fellow
was left behind. Among those who fell that day was Capt. Wm. H. Scott,
an associate of the writer on Gen. Eli Long's staff--not killed
outright, but mortally wounded. "A braver spirit never laid its life
upon its country's altar." He was struck by a grape shot and fell from
his horse, but, in that mad ride--in the face of that deadly storm of
lead and iron--it were death to halt even though a dear friend had
fallen.

The command was naturally much scattered and much time occupied in
reforming for the march. This enabled Cleburne to close up on us. In the
new formation Long's Brigade had the rear of column and the 3d Ohio the
post of danger. This regiment was soon attacked and shells were thrown
into our column. Gen. Long remained with the 3d to direct its movements.
The position held by the regiment was a good one, being protected by
rail breast-works (the men were afoot) and below a declivity extending
into a marsh; beyond this a creek. As the rebels came across the creek
they opened a vigorous fire, and, simultaneously, another line moved up
at close quarters on the right. The 3d held its fire until the enemy
reached the marsh, and then every carbine cracked. Just at this juncture
Long's horse was struck (for he had remained mounted), and a moment
after he himself received two wounds, through wrist and thigh, which
compelled him to leave the field. The 3d Ohio fell slowly back, leaving
the dead bodies of several of their comrades, including Lieut. Garfield.
They were then relieved by a regiment from Minty's Brigade. The column
being put in motion, moved on to McDonogh and thence to Cotton river,
the enemy following and harassing until night-fall.

Sunday morning, August 21st, we crossed Cotton river by swimming, the
stream being much swollen. One trooper was drowned and a piece of
artillery had to be abandoned. The enemy, continuing the pursuit, had
pressed hard on the rear all morning, but a safe crossing was finally
effected and then South river was reached and crossed. At this place a
large mill was burned and the bridge destroyed. Thence the march was via
Lithonia, Latimar's and Decatur to Buck Head, which place was reached on
the evening of Monday, August 22d.

Thus ended the famous "Kilpatrick Raid," an expedition wisely planned
and full of "great expectations." That it did not produce the fruits
hoped for was not the fault of any of "our folks." Lay the blame at the
door of the Confederacy. It accomplished much good and the Confederate
loss was large. Statistics are not at hand from which to give our
casualties in full, but Long's Brigade lost seven officers and
eighty-seven men in killed, wounded, and prisoners. The charge at
Lovejoy's Station was one of the grandest, most extensive, and brilliant
cavalry charges of the entire war. Kilpatrick, in his enthusiasm,
claimed that nothing equal to it had _ever_ been witnessed. It certainly
has _few_ equals, and hence has been deemed worthy of elaborate review
in these pages.




Transcriber's Notes:

Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.

The following misprint has been corrected: "momnet" corrected to "moment"
(page 5).

Other than the correction listed above, printer's inconsistencies have
been retained.