The discriminating minds among our intelligent young people of the South will readily perceive that there is a manifest and important, because truthful, distinction to be maintained touching the style and title of the conflict waged on this American continent during 1861 - 1865, between The United States and the newly born nationality known as The Confederate States. The following from Dr. S. A. Steel, of Richmond, Va., will be appreciated:
"The term 'Civil War' ought to be abandoned because it embodies an error. A civil war is a war between factions contending for the control of the same government, like Caesar and Pompey, like Lancaster and York. If the Southern people had fought in the Union, it would have been a civil war, and the defeated party would have been rebels. The movement was a revolution. The object of it was to maintain a separate government. The war was between the government of the United States and the government of the Confederate States. We went out of the Union; went so completely that we had to be re-admitted. We were not 'rebels,' but patriots, wisely or unwisely, exercising the the inalienable right of self-government in an honest effort to rectify political diffiiculties. This is the verdict history will ultimately pronounce upon that struggle."
While our friends, the enemy, persist in calling as "Rebels," and refer to that struggle for Southern independence as "The Rebellion," we are content to bear the obloquy, knowing the injustice of it; yea, we glory in it, as did the now largest of protestant religious denominations accept and wear the term of reproach designating them "Methodists." But let us not forget that "We be brethren!"
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One day in April, 1861, I heard that President Lincoln had called on the State troops to force the seceding States back into the Union. That was one of the saddest days of my life. I had prayed and hoped that war might be averted. I had loved the Union, and clung to it. That day I saw war was inevitable. The inevitable must be met. That day I walked up and down my porch in Smithville (now Southport, N. C.) and wept and suffered and prayed for the South.
The drum and fife were soon heard there, and all through the Old North State companies of our best men, young and middle aged, offered themselves to the Governor of the State.
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August 28, 29 and 30 (1962). Horrid scenes! Many dead Federals still on the field, though a squad of their men, under flag of truce, has been some days caring for wounded and burying dead.
I found a wounded Federal sitting on the field - a broken thigh, a rifle ball through his arm and a bruised shoulder made him right helpless. His undressed wounds were sore. He asked me if I thought our surgeons would care for him. I assurred him they would. He said he had a wife and two little children in his northern home. His parents were pious and had raised him piously, but he had neglected his own soul. I said: "Brother, Jesus loves you. You came down here to kill my brothers, but I love you." He broke down and sobbed aloud: "You don't talk like one man that came here. He upbraided me." He told me our men had been very good to him during the three or four days he had been there. As one hurried by he would give him water and food, and raise him up to rest certain tired muscles. Another would stop to give him more food and water and lay him down.
They had just taken the last Confederate wounded from that part of the field. He was on the surgeon's table a few yards away. I trust this Federal was soon taken to that table. As I was about to hurry away to overtake my regiment he asked me to lay him down! How could I? Where could I take hold? I did the best I could. As I took him by the hand and commended him to God, I think my heart was as tender as it ever was. His bones may be in that field now. I hope to meet his soul in Heaven in a few years. Hurry on ten miles and overtake our regiment. Sleep cold and take cold. Frost next morning.
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October 15 - Ten years ago God converted my soul. C. H. Ruffin, of Nash Co., wounded yesterday. Dies in my arms - in perfect peace. Charlie enlisted at 17, and perhaps, was the wildest boy in his Regiment.
He was very respectful to me, but showed no signs of any care for his soul till April last. About the time I was disappointed in my hopes to go home, he began to seek my company and give good attention to preaching. He became deeply convicted and was happily converted and I took him into the Missionary Baptist Church, and sent his name to the home church the day I started home If I had gone home at the time I first proposed, he might not have been converted. Just before he breathed his last I asked him about his case. He sweetly smiled and said: "Bro. Betts as soon as I die I shall go straight to my blessed Jesus!" That was a happy moment to me. As I write about it in October 1896 the joy I feel pays me a thousand times for all the nights I ever slept on frozen ground, snow or mud.
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July 14 - Cross Potomac. As I came near the river a straggling soldier shouted to me and asked me to let him ride the horse I was leading. I told him the horse's back was so sore I could not myself ride him. In a sharp angry tone he replied, "Yes, you think more of a horse than you do of a man." I stopped. As he came near, I said, "Young man, you ought not to speak to me that way. I have waded the James and the Potomac for a sick man to ride my horse. I will now wade this river and let you ride over." He did not wait for me to dismount. He hurried into the warm, shallow water. I trust he and each reader will be slower to judge others than he was that day.
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Engage the enemy fiercely near Winchester and drive them, and they drive us. Gen. Rodes killed. Went into private house to see his body after he was brought into Winchester. His wife had spent some time in camp during preceding winter. We fall back to Strasburg, marching all night. Riding alone and very sad, at midnight, I overtake one or two thousand Federal prisoners. They began to sing, "We are going home to die no more." My heart was touched. I shed tears as I thought many of them would die in Southern prisons.
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The night following the tidings of our contemplated surrender was a still, sad night in our camp. Rev. W. C. Willson, the Chapel Hill pastor, was with us. We had preached a few times in that camp; but that night we made no effort to get the men together. In little, sad groups they softly talked of the past, the present and the future. Old men were there, who would have cheerfully gone on, enduring the hardship of war, and protracted absence from their families, for the freedom of their country. Middle aged men were there, who had been away from wives and children for years, had gone through many battles, had lost much on their farms or stores or factories or professional business; but would that night have been glad to shoulder the gun and march forward for the defense of their "native land". Young men and boys were there, who loved their country and were unspeakably sad at the thought of the failure to secure Southern Independence.Rev. W. C. Willson and I walked out of the camp and talked and wept together. As I started back to my tent - to my mule and saddle, I should say, for I had no tent - I passed three lads sitting close together, talking softly and sadly. I paused and listened. One said, "It makes me very sad, to think of our surrendering." Another said, "It hurts me worse than the thought of battle ever did." The third raised his arm, clenched his fist and seemed to grate his teeth as he said, "I would rather know we had to go into battle tomorrow morning." There was patriotism! There may have been in that camp that night generals, colonels and other officers who had been moved by a desire for worldly honor. Owners of slaves and of lands may have hoped for financial benefit from Confederate success. But these boys felt they had a country that ought to be free! I wish I had taken their names. And I wonder if they still live. They are good citizens, I am sure.
Rev. A. D. Betts, D.D. was an ordained minister with the North Carolina Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. During the War for Southern Independence he served as Chaplain for the 30th N. C. Troops. The excerpts above are from his book, "Experience of a Confederate Caplain," published after the War. 
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