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[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all
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[Illustration: Alf BURNETT. From A Photograph By Winder.]




                    INCIDENTS OF THE WAR:

                     Humorous, Pathetic,

                            and

                        Descriptive.


                            By

                        ALF BURNETT,

         Comic Delineator, Army Correspondent, Humorist,
                         Etc., Etc.




                        CINCINNATI:
               RICKEY & CARROLL, PUBLISHERS,
                  73 WEST FOURTH STREET.
                           1863.




  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
                     RICKEY & CARROLL,
  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United
         States for the Southern District of Ohio.




                    Stereotyped at the
                  Franklin Type Foundry,
                       CINCINNATI.




SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR.

By Enos B. Reed.


The author of the following sketches, letters, etc., has been known to
us for lo, these many years. We have always found him "a fellow of
infinite jest," and one who, "though troubles assailed," always looked
upon the bright side of life, leaving its reverse to those who could
not behold the silver lining to the darkling clouds of their moral
horizon. We could fill a good-sized volume with anecdotes illustrating
the humorous in Mr. Burnett's composition, and his keen appreciation
of the grotesque and ludicrous--relating how he has, many a time and
oft, "set the table in a roar," by his quaint sayings and the peculiar
manner in which they were said; but we are "admonished to be brief,"
four pages only being allotted to "do up" the veritable "Don
Alfredus," better known by the familiar appellation "Alf."

Mr. Burnett has been a resident of Cincinnati for the past
twenty-seven years, his parents removing thereto from Utica, New York,
in 1836. Alf, at the Utica Academy, in his earliest youth, was quite
noted as a declaimer; his "youth but gave promise of the man," Mr. B.,
at the present time, standing without a peer in his peculiar line of
declamation and oratory. In 1845, he traveled with Professor De
Bonneville, giving his wonderful rendition of "The Maniac," so as to
attract the attention of the _literati_ throughout the country.

Perhaps one great reason for Mr. Burnett's adopting his present
profession was a remark made by the celebrated tragedian, Edwin
Forrest. Mr. B. had been invited to meet Mr. Forrest at the residence
of S. S. Smith, Esq. Mr. Burnett gave several readings, which caused
Mr. Forrest to make the remark, that "Mr. B. had but to step upon the
stage to reach fortune and renown." "Upon this hint" Mr. B. acted, and
at once entered upon the duties of his arduous profession. In his
readings and recitations he soon discovered that it was imperative, to
insure a pleasant entertainment, that humor should be largely mingled
with pathos; hence, he introduced a series of droll and comical
pieces, in the rendition of which he is acknowledged to have no equal.
As a mimic and ventriloquist he stands preeminent, and his
entertainment is so varied with pathos, wit, and humor, that an
evening's amusement of wonderful versatility is afforded.

Mr. Burnett is a remarkably ready writer--too ready, to pay that care
and attention to the "rules," which is considered, and justly so, to
be indispensable to a correct writer. To illustrate the rapidity with
which he composes, we have but to repeat a story, which a mutual
friend relates. He met Alf, one afternoon, about five o'clock, he
being announced to deliver an original poem in the evening, of
something less than a hundred verses. In the midst of the conversation
which ensued, Alf suddenly recollected that he had not written a line
thereof, and, making his excuses, declared he must go home and write
up the "_little affair_." In the evening a voluminous poem was
forthcoming, Alf, in all probability, having "done it up" in half an
hour "by Shrewsbury clock."

Mr. Burnett has contributed various poems to the literature of the
country, which have stamped him as being possessed of a more than
ordinary share of the divine afflatus. Among them is "The Sexton's
Spade," which has gained a world-wide celebrity. The writer has been
connected with Mr. Burnett in the publication of two or three papers,
which, somehow or other, never won their way into popular favor:
either the public had very bad taste, or the "combined forces" had not
the ability to please, or the perseverance to continue until success
crowned their labors.

In the commencement of the war, Mr. Burnett was on a tour of the
State, in the full tide of prosperity. Immediately after Sumter fell,
he summoned to him, by telegraph, his traveling agent, together with
Mr. George Humphreys, who had, as an assistant, been with him for
years. A consultation was held, which resulted in the determination of
all three to enlist in the service of their country. The agent
repaired to Chillicothe and joined the 27th Ohio; Humphreys joined the
5th Ohio, and Mr. Burnett enlisted as high private in the 6th Ohio,
and served with his regiment in West Virginia, throughout that
memorable campaign.

Mr. Burnett was subsequently engaged by the Cincinnati _Press_,
_Times_, and _Commercial_, as war correspondent. His letters were read
with great avidity, and were replete with wit, humor, and interesting
anecdote. His extensive acquaintance enabled him to gather the
earliest information, and his letters were always considered among the
most reliable. A number of them will be found in the succeeding pages.

That "Incidents of the War" will be found instructive and
entertaining, we can but believe, although Mr. Burnett's professional
engagements precluded the possibility of his devoting that time and
attention to its preparation which was almost imperative. It lays no
particular claim to merit as a literary production--being a collection
of letters and incidents, which Mr. B.'s publishers thought would be
palatable to the public in their present form.

In the volume will be found several pieces for the superior rendition
of which Mr. Burnett has been highly extolled. At the close will be
found a famous debate, which, although not an incident of the war, is
peculiarly spirited, and was delivered by Mr. Burnett before General
Rosecrans.

For the graphic illustrations accompanying the volume, Mr. Burnett is
indebted to Messrs. Jones & Hart, engravers, and Messrs. Ball &
Thomas, photographic artists.

Mr. Burnett is still engaged in giving readings and recitations, in
city and village, and, since the death of Winchell, stands almost
alone in his profession. Upon a visit to England, some years since, he
gained the praise of the English press and public, as a correct
delineator of the passions, mimic, and humorist. He is never so well
pleased as when before an audience, and receiving the applause of the
judicious.

In conclusion, let us hope that "Incidents of the War" may be welcomed
by that large number who have had relatives in the armies of the
Union, and whose names may, perchance, be found in its pages, while we
know the numerous friends of Mr. Burnett will hail its appearance with
unfeigned delight.




CONTENTS.


                                                                  PAGE
     CHAPTER I                                                      13

     Preparatory Remarks -- Camp-Life -- Incidents of the Battle
     of Perryville -- Brigadier-General Lytle -- Captain
     McDougal, of the 3d Ohio -- Colonel Loomis -- After the
     Battle -- Rebels Playing 'Possum -- Skeered! That Aint no
     Name for it -- Camp Fun, in a Burlesque Letter to a Friend.

     CHAPTER II                                                     23

     General Nelson -- The General and the Pie-Women -- The
     Watchful Sentinel of the 2d Kentucky -- The Wagon-Master of
     the 17th Indiana -- Death of General Nelson -- His Funeral
     -- Colonel Nick Anderson's Opinion of Nelson.

     CHAPTER III                                                    37

     Description of a Battle -- The 2d Ohio (Colonel Harris) at
     Perryville -- Major-General McCook's Report -- Major-General
     Rousseau's Report -- Sketch of Major-General A. McD. McCook.

     CHAPTER IV                                                     47

     Looking for the Body of a Dead Nephew on the Field of
     Murfreesboro -- The 6th Ohio at Murfreesboro -- The Dead of
     the 6th -- The 36th Indiana -- Putting Contrabands to Some
     Service -- Anxiety of Owners to Retain their Slaves --
     Conduct of a Mistress -- "Don't Shoot, Massa, here I Is!" --
     Kidd's Safeguard -- "Always Been a Union Man" -- Negroes
     Exhibiting their Preference for their Friends.

     CHAPTER V                                                      57

     Cutting Down a Rebel's Reserved Timber -- Home again --
     Loomis and his Coldwater Battery -- Secession Poetry --
     Heavy Joke on an "Egyptian" Regiment.

     CHAPTER VI                                                     64

     General Turchin -- Mrs. General Turchin in Command of the
     Vanguard of the 19th Illinois -- The 18th Ohio at Athens --
     Children and Fools always Tell the Truth -- Picket Talk --
     About Soldiers Voting -- Captain Kirk's Line of Battle.

     CHAPTER VII                                                    70

     Comic Scenes -- Importation of Yankees -- Wouldn't Go Round
     -- Major Boynton and the Chicken -- Monotony of Camp-Life --
     Experience on a Scouting Expedition -- Larz Anderson, Esq.,
     in Camp -- A Would-be Secessionist Caught in his Own Trap --
     Guthrie Gray Bill of Fare for a Rebel "Reception" -- Pic
     Russell among the Snakes.

     CHAPTER VIII                                                   80

     Fun in the 123d Ohio -- A Thrilling Incident of the War --
     General Kelley -- Vote under Strange Circumstances -- Die,
     but never Surrender.

     CHAPTER IX                                                     87

     Our Hospitals -- No Hope -- A Short and Simple Story -- A
     Soldier's Pride -- The Last Letter -- Soldierly Sympathy --
     The Hospitals at Gallatin, and their Ministering Angels.

     CHAPTER X                                                      99

     Sports in Camp -- Anecdote of the 63d Ohio and Colonel
     Sprague -- Soldier's Dream of Home -- The Wife's Reply.

     CHAPTER XI                                                    107

     The Atrocities of Slavery -- The Beauties of the Peculiar
     Institution -- A few Well-substantiated Facts -- Visit to
     Gallatin, Tennessee.

     CHAPTER XII                                                   124

     General Schofield -- Colonel Durbin Ward -- Colonel Connell
     -- Women in Breeches -- Another Incident of the War -- Negro
     Sermon.

     CHAPTER XIII                                                  135

     Letter from Cheat Mountain -- the Women of the South --
     Gilbert's Brigade.

     CHAPTER XIV                                                   143

     Confessions of a Fat Man -- Home-Guard -- The Negro on the
     Fence -- A Camp Letter of Early Times -- "Sweetharts"
     against War.

     CHAPTER XV                                                    156

     The Winter Campaign in Virginia -- Didn't Know of the
     Rebellion -- General W. H. Lytle -- Drilling -- A Black
     Nightingale's Song.

     CHAPTER XVI                                                   167

     Old Stonnicker and Colonel Marrow, of 3d Ohio -- General
     Garnett and his Dogs -- "Are You the Col-o-nel of this
     Post?" -- Profanity in the Army -- High Price of Beans in
     Camp -- A Little Game of "Draw."

     CHAPTER XVII                                                  172

     Hard on the Sutler: Spiritualism Tried -- A Specimen of
     Southern Poetry -- Singular -- March to Nashville -- General
     Steadman Challenged by a Woman -- Nigger Question -- "Rebels
     Returning."

     CHAPTER XVIII                                                 181

     Going into Battle -- Letter to the Secesh -- General
     Garfield, Major-General Rosecrans's Chief of Staff --
     General Lew Wallace -- The Siege of Cincinnati -- Parson
     Brownlow -- Colonel Charles Anderson.

     CHAPTER XIX                                                   188

     An Episode of the War -- Laughable Incident -- Old Mrs.
     Wiggles on Picket Duty -- General Manson -- God Bless the
     Soldiers -- Negro's Pedigree of Abraham Lincoln -- A Middle
     Tennessee Preacher -- A Laconic Speech.

     CHAPTER XX                                                    194

     Union Men Scarce -- How They Are Dreaded -- Incidents -- The
     Wealthy Secessionists and Poor Union Widows -- The John
     Morgans of Rebellion -- A Contraband's Explanation of the
     Mystery -- Accident at the South Tunnel -- Impudence of the
     Rebels -- A Pathetic Appeal, etc.

     CHAPTER XXI                                                   201

     A Friendly Visit for Corn into an Egyptian Country -- Ohio
     Regiments -- "Corn or Blood" -- "Fanny Battles" -- The
     Constitution Busted in Several Places -- Edicts against
     Dinner-horns, by Colonel Brownlow's Cavalry -- A Signal
     Station Burned -- Two Rebel Aids Captured.

     CHAPTER XXII                                                  207

     Reward for a Master -- Turning the Tables -- Dan Boss and
     his Adventure -- Major Pic Russell -- A Visit to the
     Outposts with General Jeff C. Davis -- Rebel Witticisms --
     Hight Igo, Ye Eccentric Quarter-Master -- Fling Out to the
     Breeze, Boys.

     CHAPTER XXIII                                                 216

     Defense of the Conduct of the German Regiments at Hartsville
     -- To the Memory of Captain W. Y. Gholson -- Colonel Toland
     vs. Contraband Whisky.

     CHAPTER XXIV                                                  222

     War and Romance -- Colonel Fred Jones -- Hanging in the Army
     -- General A. J. Smith vs. Dirty Guns.

     CHAPTER XXV                                                   232

     A Trip into the Enemy's Country -- The Rebels twice Driven
     back by General Steadman -- Incidents of the Charge of the
     1st Tennessee Cavalry, under Major Tracy -- The 35th and 9th
     Ohio in the Fight -- Colonel Moody and the 74th Ohio --
     Colonel Moody on the Battle-field.

     CHAPTER XXVI                                                  240

     A Wedding in the Army -- A Bill of Fare in Camp -- Dishonest
     Female Reb -- Private Cupp -- To the 13th Ohio.

     CHAPTER XXVII                                                 248

     The Oath -- A Conservative Darkey's Opinion of Yankees --
     Visit to the Graves of Ohio and Indiana Boys -- Trip from
     Murfreesboro to Louisville -- Nashville Convalescents -- A
     Death in the Hospital -- Henry Lovie Captured.

     CHAPTER XXVIII                                                256

     General Steadman Superseded by General Schofield, of
     Missouri -- Colonel Brownlow's Regiment -- His Bravery -- A
     Rebel Officer Killed by a Woman -- Discontent in East
     Tennessee -- Picket Duty and its Dangers -- A Gallant Deed
     and a Chivalrous Return.

     CHAPTER XXIX                                                  263

     An Incident at Holly Springs, Miss. -- The Raid by Van Dorn
     -- Cincinnati Cotton-Dealers in Trouble -- Troubles of a
     Reporter.

     CHAPTER XXX                                                   268

     A Reporter's Idea of Mules -- Letter from Kentucky --
     Chaplain Gaddis Turns Fireman -- Gaddis and the Secesh
     Grass-Widow.

     CHAPTER XXXI                                                  279

     A Visit to the 1st East Tennessee Cavalry -- A Proposed
     Sermon -- Its Interruption -- How ye Preacher is Bamboozled
     out of $15 and a Gold Watch -- Cavalry on the Brain -- Old
     Stonnicker Drummed Out of Camp -- Now and Then.

     CHAPTER XXXII                                                 289

     An Incident of the 5th O. V. I. -- How to Avoid the Draft --
     Keep the Soldiers' Letters -- New Use of Blood-hounds --
     Proposition to Hang the Dutch Soldiers -- The Stolen Stars.

     Debate Between Slabsides and Garrotte.                        303

     Sermon From "Harp of a Thousand Strings."                     308




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.


     PORTRAIT OF ALF BURNETT.

     SKEERED! THAT AINT NO NAME FOR IT.

     RUNAWAY SCRAPE IN VIRGINIA.

     SPORTS IN CAMP.

     FAT VOLUNTEER.

     OLD STONNICKER DRUMMED OUT OF CAMP.

     DEBATE BETWEEN SLABSIDES AND GARROTTE.

     SERMON--"HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS."




INCIDENTS OF THE WAR.




CHAPTER I.

     Preparatory Remarks -- Camp-Life -- Incidents of the Battle
     of Perryville -- Brigadier-General Lytle -- Captain
     McDougal, of the 3d Ohio -- Colonel Loomis -- After the
     Battle -- Rebels Playing 'Possum -- Skeered! That Aint no
     Name for it.


In a two-years' connection with the army, a man with the most ordinary
capacity for garnering up the humorous stories of camp may find his
_repertoire_ overflowing with the most versatile of incidents. A
connection with the daily press is, however, of great service,
especially as a letter-writer is expected to know all that occurs in
camp--and _more too_!

The stories that I shall relate are no fictions, but veritable facts,
to most of which I was myself an eye-witness.

The hardships of camp-life have been so often depicted by other pens
that it will be unnecessary for me to bring them anew before the
public. A few jolly spirits in a regiment frequently sway the crowd,
and render the hours pleasant to the boys which otherwise would prove
exceedingly wearisome; and many a surgeon has remarked, that it would
amply remunerate Government to hire good, wholesome amusement for the
benefit of the soldiers when not on active duty. Frequently, when
visiting various hospitals, have I noticed the brightening eye of the
patients as I have told them some laughable incident, or given an
hour's amusement to the crowd of convalescents--a far preferable dose,
they told me, to quinine. A word of praise to the suffering hero is of
great value.

I remember, the day after the battle of Perryville, visiting the
hospital of which Dr. Muscroft was surgeon. I had assisted all day in
bringing in the wounded from the field-hospital, in the rear of the
battle-ground. The boys of the 10th and 3d Ohio were crowded into a
little church, each pew answering for a private apartment for a
wounded man. One of the surgeons in attendance requested me to assist
in holding a patient while his leg was being amputated. This was my
first trial, but the sight of the crowd of wounded had rendered my
otherwise sensitive nerves adamant, and as the knife was hastily
plunged, the circle-scribe and the saw put to its use, the limb off,
scarce a groan escaped the noble fellow's lips. Another boy of the
10th had his entire right cheek cut off by a piece of a shell,
lacerating his tongue in the most horrible manner: this wound had to
be dressed, and again my assistance was required, and I could but
notice the exhilarating effect a few words of praise that I bestowed
upon his powers of endurance had. This was invariably the case with
all those whom it was my painful duty to assist. The effect of a few
words of praise seemed quite magical.

Men frequently fight on, though severely wounded, so great is the
excitement of battle, and I am cognizant of several instances of men
fainting from loss of blood, who did not know they were wounded,
until, several minutes afterward, they were brought to a realization
of the fact through a peculiar dizzy, sickening feeling.
Brigadier-General (then Colonel) Lytle, who commanded a brigade during
that battle, it is said, by boys who were near him, after the severe
wound he received, fought on several minutes. A field-officer, whose
name I have forgotten, being shot from his horse, requested to be
lifted back into the saddle, and died shortly afterward. Captain
McDougal, of Newark, Ohio, commanding a company in the 3d Ohio, who,
with sword upraised, and cheering on his noble boys, received a fatal
shot, actually stepped some eight or ten paces before falling. Colonel
Loomis, of the celebrated Loomis Battery, who did such service in that
engagement, says he saw no dead about him; yet there they lay, within
a few feet of his battery. Loomis at one time sighted one of his
favorite pieces, taking what he called a "fair, square, deliberate
aim," and, sure enough, he knocked over the rebel gun, throwing it
some feet in the air; at the sight of which he was so elated that he
fairly jumped with delight, and cheer after cheer rang out from the
men of his command, and it was not until a whizzing shot from the
remaining guns of the rebels' battery warned him that they were not
yet conquered, that his boys were again put to work, and eventually
quieted their noisy antagonists. At one time, during that fight, the
rebels tried to charge up the hill from "Bottom's farm-house," but
were repulsed. At that time the 10th and 3d Ohio, aided by the 15th
Kentucky Regiment, were holding the eminence; the rebels were
protected by a stone wall that skirted the entire meandering creek,
giving them, at times, the advantage of an enfilading fire; our boys
were partly covered by what was known as "Bottom's barn." Many of our
wounded had crawled into this barn for protection, but a rebel shell
exploding directly among the hay set the barn on fire, and several of
our poor wounded boys perished in the flames.

Colonel Reed, of Delaware, Ohio, was in command at Perryville, some
time after the battle, and it is a disgraceful fact that the rebels
left their dead unburied. At one spot, in a ravine, they had piled up
thirty bodies in one heap, and thrown a lot of cornstalks over them;
and on the Springfield road, to the right, as you entered the town of
Perryville, a regular line of skirmishers lay dead, each one about ten
paces from the other; they had evidently been shot instantly dead, and
had fallen in their tracks; and there they laid for four days. One, a
fine-looking man, with large, black, bushy whiskers, was within a few
yards of the toll-gate keeper's house, (himself and family residing
there,) who, apparently, was too lazy to dig a grave for the reception
of the rebel's body.

As a matter of course, the first duty is to the wounded, but these
people seemed to pay no attention to either dead or wounded. And it
was not until a peremptory order from Colonel Reed was issued, that
the rebel-sympathizing citizens condescended to go out and bury their
Confederate friends; and this was accomplished by digging a deep hole
beside the corpse, and the diggers, taking a couple of fence-rails,
would pry the body over and let it fall to the bottom: thus these
poor, deluded wretches found a receptacle in mother Earth.

Accompanied by Mr. A. Seward, the special correspondent of the
Philadelphia _Inquirer_, the day after the fight I visited an
improvised hospital in the woods in the rear of the battle-ground.
There we found some twenty Secesh, who had strayed from their command,
and were playing sick and wounded to anybody who came along. They had
guards out watching, and, as I suspected they were playing sharp, I
bethought me of trying "diamond cut diamond;" so I dismounted, and
having on a Kentucky-jeans coat, I ventured a "HOW-DE, BOYS?"

They eyed us pretty severely, and ventured the remark that they needed
food, and would like some coffee or sugar for the wounded boys. I went
inside the log-house, telling them I would send some down; that we
were farming close by there; "Dry-fork" was the place; we would send
them bread. After we had gained their confidence, they wanted to know
how they could get out of the State without being captured; said they
had not been taken yet, although several of the Yanks had been there;
but the "d--d fools" thought they were already paroled.

We told them that as soon as they got well we would pilot them safely
out. They said they had already been promised citizens' clothing by
Mrs. Thompson and some other rebel ladies. They then openly confessed
that there was only one of them wounded, and that they had used his
bloody rags for arm-bandages and head-bandages only for the brief
period when they were visited by _suspicious_-looking persons; but,
as we were all right, they had no hesitancy in telling us they were
part of Hardee's corps, and were left there by accident when the rebel
forces marched.

By a strange _accident_ they were all taken prisoners that afternoon
by a dozen Federal prowlers, who kindly took them in out of the wet.


SKEERED! THAT AINT NO NAME FOR IT.

About a mile and a half to the rear of the field of battle there
stands, in a large, open field, a solitary log-house containing two
rooms. The house is surrounded by a fence inclosing a small patch of
ground. The chimney had been partly torn away by a cannon-ball. A
shell had struck the roof of the building, ripping open quite a gutter
in the rafters. A dead horse lay in the little yard directly in front
of the house, actually blocking up the doorway, while shot and shell
were scattered in every direction about the field in front and rear of
this solitary homestead. I dismounted, determined to see who or what
was in the house--

  "Darkness there, and nothing more."

A board had been taken from the floor, exhibiting a large hole between
two solid beams or logs. An empty bedstead, a wooden cupboard, and
three chairs were all the furniture the house contained. Hurrying
across the field, we caught up with a long, lank, lean woman. She had
two children with her: a little boy about nine, and a girl about four
years of age. The woman had a table upon her head. The table, turned
upside down, contained a lot of bedding. She had a bucket full of
crockery-ware in one hand, and was holding on to the table with the
other. The children were loaded down with household furniture of great
convenience. As it was growing dark, I inquired the nearest road to
Perryville. The woman immediately unloaded her head, and pointing the
direction, set one leg on the table, and yelled to the boy--

"Whoray up, Jeems; you are so slow!"

"How far is it, madam?"

"O, about a mile and a half. It aint more nor that, no how."

"Who lived in that house?" said I, pointing to the log-cabin I had
just left.

"I did."

"Were you there during the fight?"

"Guess I was."

"Where was your husband?"

"He wor dead."

"Was he killed in the battle?"

"No; he died with the measles."

"Why didn't you leave when you found there was going to be a fight?"

"I did start for to go, but I seed the Yankees comin' thick, and I
hurried back t'other way; and jest as I e'enamost got to the brush
yonder, I seed the 'Confeds' jest a swarmin' out of the woods. So,
seeing I was between two fires, I rund back to the house."

"Wasn't you afraid you'd be killed?"

"Guess I was."

"What did you do when they commenced firing?"

"I cut a hole in the floor with the ax, and hid between the jists."

"Did they fight long upon your ground?"

"It seemed to me like it wor TWO WEEKS."

"You must have been pretty well scared; were you not?"

"Humph! _skeered!_ Lor bless you, _skeered! That aint no name for
it!_"


CAMP FUN IN A BURLESQUE LETTER TO A FRIEND.

The other morning I was standing by Billy Briggs, in our tent.

"Hand me them scabbards, Jimmy," said he.

"Scabbards!" said I, looking round.

"Yes; boots, I mean. I wonder if these boots were any relation to that
beef we ate yesterday. If they will only prove as tough, they'll last
me a long time. I say, Cradle!" he called out, "where are you?"

Cradle was our contraband, with a foot of extraordinary length, and
heel to match.

"What do you call him Cradle for?" I inquired.

"What would _you_ call him? If he aint a cradle, what's he got rockers
on for?"

Cradle made his appearance, with a pair of perforated stockings.

"It's no use," said Billy, looking at them. "Them stockings will do to
put on a sore throat, but won't do for feet. It is humiliating for a
man like me to be without stockings. A man may be bald-headed, and
it's genteel; but to be barefooted, it's ruination. The legs are good,
too," he added, thoughtfully, "but the feet are gone. There is
something about the heels of stockings and the elbows of stove-pipes,
in this world, that is all wrong, Jimmy."

A supply of stockings had come that day, and were just being given
out. A pair of very large ones fell to Billy's lot. Billy held them up
before him.

"Jimmy," said he, "these are pretty bags to give a little fellow like
me. Them stockings was knit for the President, or a young gorilla,
certain!" and he was about to bestow them upon Cradle, when a soldier,
in the opposite predicament, made an exchange. "Them stockings made me
think of the prisoner I scared so the other day," said Billy.

"How's that?" said I.

"He saw a big pair of red leggings, with feet, hanging up before our
tent. He never said a word, till he saw the leggings, and then he
asked me what they were for. 'Them!' said I, 'them's General Banks's
stockings.' He looked scared. 'He's a big man, is General Banks,' said
I, 'but then he ought to be, the way he lives.' 'How?' said he. 'Why,'
said I, 'his regular diet is bricks buttered with mortar.'"

The next day Billy got a present of a pair of stockings from a lady; a
nice, soft pair, with his initials, in red silk, upon them. He was
very happy. "Jimmy," said he, "just look at 'em," and he smoothed them
down with his hand--"marked with my initials, too; 'B,' for my
Christian name, and 'W' for my heathen name. How kind! They came just
in the right time, too; I've got such a sore heel."

Orders came to "fall in." Billy was so overjoyed with his new
stockings he didn't keep the line well.

"Steady, there!" growled the sergeant; "keep your place, and don't be
moving round like the Boston post-office!"

We were soon put upon the double-quick. After a few minutes, Billy
gave a groan.

"What is it, Billy?" said I.

"It's all up with 'em," said he.

I didn't know what he meant, but his face showed something bad had
happened. When we broke ranks and got to the tent, he looked the
picture of despair--shoes in hand, and his heels shining through his
stockings like two crockery door-knobs.

"Them new stockings of yours is breech-loading, aint they, Billy?"
said an unfeeling volunteer.

"Better get your name on both ends, so that you can keep 'em
together," said another.

"Shoddy stockings," said a third.

Billy was silent. I saw his heart was breaking, and I said nothing. We
held a council on them, and Billy, not feeling strong-hearted enough
for the task, gave them to Cradle to sew up the small holes.

I saw him again before supper; he came to me looking worse than ever,
the stockings in his hand.

"Jimmy," said he, "you know I gave them to Cradle, and told him to sew
up the small holes; and what do you think he has done? He's gone and
sewed up the heads."

"It's a hard case, Billy; in such cases, tears are almost
justifiable."




CHAPTER II.

     General Nelson -- The General and the Pie-Women -- The
     Watchful Sentinel of the 2d Kentucky -- The Wagon-Master of
     the 17th Indiana -- Death of General Nelson -- His Funeral
     -- Colonel Nick Anderson's Opinion of Nelson.


A great many stories have been told about General Nelson, with whom
the writer was upon the most intimate terms. That Nelson was a noble,
warm-hearted, companionable man, those even most opposed to his rough
manner, at times, will readily admit.

Nelson was strongly attached to the 6th Ohio. From his very first
acquaintance he said he fell in love with it, and his feeling was
reciprocated, for the 6th was as ardently devoted to him.

At Camp Wickliffe the General was very much annoyed by women coming
into his camp, and he had given strict orders that none should be
admitted on the following Sunday, as he intended reviewing the
division that day. His chagrin and rage can only be imagined by those
who knew him, when, upon this veritable occasion, he saw at least
thirty women huddled together, on mares, mules, jacks, jennies, and
horses. The General rode hastily to Lieutenant Southgate, exclaiming--

"Captain Southgate, I thought I ordered that no more of those d--d
women should come into my camp. What are they doing here?"

"I promulgated your order, General," replied Captain Southgate.

"Well, by ----, what are they here for?" and riding up to the bevy of
women in lathed and split bonnets, he inquired, in a ferocious manner,
"What in ---- are all you women doing here?"

Now, the party was pretty well frightened, but there was one with more
daring than the rest, who sidled up to the General, and, with what was
intended to be a smile, (but the General said he never saw a more
"sardonic grin" in his life,) she answered for the party, and said:

"_Sellin' pies, Gin'ral._"

"Selling pies, eh! Selling pies, eh! Let me see 'em; let me see 'em,
quick!"

The woman untied one end of a bolster-slip, and thrust her arm down
the sack, and brought forth a specimen of the article, which Nelson
seized, and vainly endeavored to break. It was like leather. The
General gave it a sudden twist and broke it in two, when out dropped
three or four pieces of dried apple.

"By ----, madam, you call them pies, do you? Pies, eh! Those things
are just what are _giving all my boys the colic_! Get out of this camp
every one of you! Clear yourselves!"

The camp was thus cleared of pie-venders, who escaped on the
double-quick.

[Illustration: Skeered! That ain't no name for it. See page 18.]

General Nelson was a strict disciplinarian, and frequently tested his
pickets by a personal visit. Upon one occasion he rode through a
drenching rain to the outposts; it was a dark night, and mud and
water were knee-deep in some parts of the road. A portion of the 2d
Kentucky was on guard, and as the General rode up he met the stern
"Halt" of the sentinel, and the usual "Who comes there?"

"General Nelson," was the reply.

"Dismount, General Nelson, and give the countersign," was the
sentinel's command.

"Do you know who you are talking to, sir? I tell you I am your
General, and you have the impudence to order me to dismount, you
scoundrel!"

"Dismount, and give the countersign, or I will fire upon you," was the
stern rejoinder.

And Nelson did dismount, and gave the countersign, and at the same
time inquired the sentinel's name, and to what regiment he belonged.
The following day the man was sent for, to appear forthwith at
head-quarters. The soldier went with great trepidation, anticipating
severe treatment from the General for the previous night's conduct.
Imagine his surprise when the General invited him in, complimented him
highly, in the presence of his officers, and requested, if at any time
he required any service from him, to just mention that he was the
soldier of the 2d Kentucky who had made him dismount in mud and rain,
and give the countersign.

On another occasion he was riding along the road, and was accosted by
two waggish members of the 6th Ohio.

"Hallo! mister," said one of the boys, "won't you take a drink?"

"Where are you soldiers going to?" inquired the General.

"O, just over here a little bit."

"What regiment do you belong to?"

"Sixth Ohio."

"Well, get back to your camp, quick!"

The boys, although they knew him well, took advantage of the fact that
the General displayed no insignia of his rank, and replied:

"They guessed they'd go down the road a bit, first."

"Come back! come back!" shouted the General. "How dare you disobey me?
Do you know who I am, you scoundrels?"

"No, I don't," said one of the boys; and then, looking impudently and
inquiringly into his face, said: "_Why! ain't you the wagon-master of
the 17th Indiana?_"

Nelson thought activity the best cure for "_ennui_," and consequently
kept his men busy. One day, calling his officers together, he ordered
them to prepare immediately for a regular, old-fashioned day's work;
"for," said he, "there has been so little work done here since the
rain set in, that I fear _drilling_ has fallen in the market; but if
we succeed in keeping up that article, I am sure _cotton_ must come
down."

He was exceedingly bitter in his denunciations of the London _Times_
and rebel British sympathizers, remarking to me, one evening, that he
was exceedingly anxious this war should speedily end, "for," said he,
"I would like nothing better than to see our people once more united
as a nation; and then I want fifty thousand men at my command, so that
I could march them to Canada, and go through those provinces like a
dose of croton."

I was present at the Galt House, in Louisville, when General Nelson
was shot by General Davis, and immediately telegraphed the sad news to
the daily press of Cincinnati. The following was my dispatch:


     General Nelson Shot by General Davis.

                              Louisville, _September 29_.

     Eds. Times: I just witnessed General Jeff C. Davis shoot
     General Nelson. It occurred in the Galt House, in the entry
     leading from the office. The wound is thought to be mortal.

                                        Alf.


     Later.--General Nelson Dead.

                              Louisville, _September 29_, 10 A.M.

     General Nelson is dead. I will telegraph particulars as soon
     as possible.

                                        Alf.


     THIRD DISPATCH.

     Particulars of the Affair.

                              Louisville, _September 29_, 11 A.M.

     Eds. Times: Jefferson C. Davis, of Indiana, went into the
     Galt House, at half-past eight o'clock this morning. He met
     General Nelson, and referred to the treatment he had
     received at his hands in ordering him to Cincinnati. Nelson
     cursed him, and struck Davis in the face several times.
     Nelson then retired a few paces, Davis borrowing a pistol
     from a friend, who, handing it to him, remarked, "It is a
     Tranter trigger--be careful."

     I had just that moment been in conversation with the
     General.

                                        Alf.


The particulars were afterward given in a letter, which is here
inserted:

                              Louisville, _September 29, 1862_.

The greatest excitement of the day has been in discussing the death of
General Nelson, and the causes which led to the terrible _denouement_.

Sauntering out in search of an "item"--my custom always in the
morning--I happened to be in the Galt House just as the altercation
between General Nelson and General Jeff C. Davis was reaching its
climax, and of which I telegraphed you within ten minutes after its
occurrence. From what I learn, from parties who saw the commencement,
it would seem that General Davis felt himself grossly insulted by
Nelson's overbearing manner at their former meeting; and seeing him
standing talking to Governor Morton, Davis advanced and demanded an
explanation, upon which Nelson turned and cursed him, calling him an
infamous puppy, and using other violent language unfit for
publication. Upon pressing his demand for an explanation, Nelson, who
was an immensely powerful and large man, took the back of his hand and
deliberately slapped General Davis's face. Just at this juncture I
entered the office. The people congregated there were giving Nelson a
wide berth. Recognizing the General, I said "Good morning, General,"
(at this time I was not aware of what had passed). His reply to me
was: "Did you hear that d----d insolent scoundrel insult me, sir? I
suppose he don't know me, sir. I'll teach him a lesson, sir." During
this time he was retiring slowly toward the door leading to the
ladies' sitting-room. At this moment I heard General Davis ask for a
weapon, first of a gentleman who was standing near him, and then
meeting Captain Gibson, who was just about to enter the dining-room,
he asked him if he had a pistol? Captain Gibson replied, "I always
carry the article;" and handed one to him, remarking, as Davis walked
toward Nelson, "It is a Tranter trigger."

Nelson, by this time, reached the hall, and was evidently getting out
of the way, to avoid further difficulty.

Davis's face was livid, and such a look of mingled indignation,
mortification, and determination I never before beheld. His hand was
slowly raised; and, as Nelson advanced, Davis uttered the one word,
"Halt!" and fired. Nelson, with the bullet in his breast, completed
the journey up the entire stairs, and then fell. As he reached the
top, John Allen Crittenden met him and said, "Are you hurt, General?"
He replied, "Yes, I am, mortally." "Can I do any thing for you?"
continued Crittenden. "Yes; send for a surgeon and a priest, quick."

A rush was made by the crowd toward the place as soon as he was shot.
No effort, as far as I can learn, has been made to arrest General
Davis.

A few minutes after the occurrence I was introduced to the Aid of
Governor Morton, who told me he saw it all, from the very
commencement, and that, had not Davis acted as he did, after the gross
provocation he received, Davis would have deserved to have been shot
himself.

It is a great pity so brave a man should have had so little control
over his temper. Although very severe in his discipline and rough in
his language, the boys of his division were devotedly attached to him,
_because he was a fighting man_. The 6th Ohio, especially, were his
ardent admirers. He was hated here, bitterly hated, by all
_Secessionists_; this of itself should have endeared him to Union men.

The Louisville _Journal_, this afternoon, in speaking of the affair,
says:

"General Nelson, from the first, thought the wound was a mortal one,
and expressed a desire to have the Rev. Mr. Talbott, of Calvary
Church, summoned. This gentleman resides about three miles below the
city, but was unable to get home on Sunday after service, and passed
the night at the Galt House. He immediately obeyed the summons, as he
was well acquainted with the General. The reverend gentleman informs
us that the dying man spoke no word concerning the difficulty, and
made no allusion to his temporal affairs, but was exceedingly
solicitous as to the salvation of his soul, and desired Mr. Talbott to
perform the rite of baptism, and receive him into the bosom of the
Church.

"After five minutes' conversation, to ascertain his state of
preparedness, the clergyman assented to his wish, and the solemn
ordinance was administered with unusual impressiveness, in the
presence of Dr. Murray, the medical director, Major-General
Crittenden, and a few other personal friends. When the service
concluded, he was calm, and sank into his last sleep quietly, with no
apparent physical pain, but with some mental suffering. The last
audible words that he uttered were a prayer for the forgiveness of his
sins. That appeal was made to Almighty God. Let, then, his
fellow-mortals be proud of his many virtues, his lofty patriotism, and
undaunted courage, while they judge leniently of those faults, which,
had they been curbed, might have been trained into virtues. Let it not
be said of our friend--

  "'The evil that men do lives after them,
  The good is oft interred with their bones.'"


THE FUNERAL.

The funeral of General Nelson took place yesterday afternoon. The
corpse of the General was incased in a most elegant rosewood coffin,
mounted with silver. The American flag, that he had so nobly fought
under at Shiloh, was wrapped about it; his sword, drawn for the last
time by that once brave hand, lay upon the flag. Bouquets were strewed
upon the coffin.

Major-General Granger, Major-General McCook, and Major-General
Crittenden, and Brigadier-General Jackson, assisted by other officers,
conveyed the remains from the hearse to the church-door, and down the
aisle. As they entered the building, Dr. Craig commenced reading the
burial service for the dead. As soon as they reached the pulpit, and
set down the corpse, the choir chanted a requiem in the most
impressive manner. Rev. Dr. Craig then read the 15th chapter of the
First Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians, 21st to the 29th verses:

     "For since by man came death, by man came also the
     resurrection of the dead.

     "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made
     alive."

After the reading of this, the Rev. Mr. Talbott, he whom General
Nelson had sent for immediately upon being shot, and who had
administered to his spiritual welfare, and received him into the
Church, delivered one of the most beautiful and eulogistic discourses
I ever heard.

He said that the General had been, in private life, one of the most
congenial and warm-hearted of men; his hand ever open to the needy.
He had known him well.

The last half-hour of his life was devoted entirely to the salvation
of his soul; he did not refer to worldly matters. Mr. Talbott told him
he must forgive all whom he thought had injured him. His reply was,
"O! I do, I do forgive--I do forgive. Let me," said Nelson, "be
baptized quick, for I feel I am fast going."

Mr. T. then administered to him the sacred rite, and in a few minutes,
conscious to the last, smiling and serene, he passed to "that bourne
from which no traveler returns."

"A more contrite heart and thorough Christian resignation," said the
divine, "I never saw."

The discourse over, the body was conveyed again to the hearse.

Lieutenant-Colonel Anderson, of the 6th Ohio, had command of the
escort, which consisted of two companies of the 2d Ohio, and two
companies of the 6th, all being from his old and tried division. No
relatives, I believe, were here, except Captain Davis, a
foster-brother, belonging to the 2d Minnesota Regiment.

General Nelson's gray horse was led immediately behind the hearse, the
General's boots reversed and fastened in the stirrups. An artillery
company and cavalry squadron completed the _cortège_, which moved
slowly down Second Street to the beat of the muffled drum.

He has gone to his long home! Though rash and impetuous at times, we
must not forget our country has lost a noble defender, a man of true
courage--one who was looked up to by his division.

To-day he _was_ to join them; and as I went through the old Fourth
Division, last Sunday, the boys were all in a jubilee, because Nelson
was going to be with them, and they remarked, "If he is along, he'll
take us where _we'll have fighting_!"

As I have before told you, everywhere Secessionists are rejoicing at
his death, and Kentucky ones especially. The Union men of Kentucky
have lost a noble defender.

Yesterday General Rousseau's division of ten thousand men was
reviewed. They are a splendid body of men.

There will be no examination of Jeff C. Davis before the civil
authorities, but the affair is to be investigated by a court-martial.

A singular incident is related of General Nelson. It is said that the
Rev. Dr. Talbott, who resides a few miles from the city, wished to
return home on Sunday night last. Nelson refused him the pass. On
Monday morning it was this reverend gentleman who was sent for by
Nelson, and received Nelson into the Church, and who performed the
funeral services to-day.

                                        Yours, Alf.


The gallant Colonel Nick Anderson, who so bravely led the 6th Ohio at
Shiloh, and more recently at Murfreesboro, in speaking of Nelson,
says:

"And what is said will be assented to by all who shared his familiar
moments, that, outside of his military duties, he was a refined
gentleman. Whatever may be said of his severe dealing with his
subordinates, his violent manner when reprimanding them, every one
who knew him will bear witness that it was only to exact that iron
discipline which makes an army irresistible. His naval education, in
which discipline is so mercilessly enforced, will explain clearly his
intensity of manner when preparing his forces for the terrible trials
of the march or the battle-field. However much he was disliked by
subordinate and inefficient officers, he was beloved by his men, the
private soldiers.

"How carefully he looked after all their wants, their clothing, their
food--in short, whatever they needed to make them strong and brave!
for it was a maxim with him, that, unless a man's back was kept warm
and his stomach well supplied, he could not be relied upon as a
soldier. All who know Buell's army will bear witness to the splendid
condition of Nelson's division.

"General Nelson earned his rank as major-general by no mysterious
influences at head-quarters, but by splendid achievements on the
battle-field. It has been said that his division was the first to
enter Nashville; so it was the first in Corinth; but these are the
poorest of his titles to distinction. It was his success in Eastern
Kentucky, in destroying the army of General Marshall; and, greatest of
all, his arrival, by forced marches, at Pittsburg Landing, early
enough on Sunday afternoon, the 9th of April, to stop the victorious
progress of General Beauregard, that placed him among his country's
benefactors and heroes, and which will 'gild his sepulcher, and embalm
his name.'

"But for Nelson, Grant's army might have been destroyed. His forced
march, wading deep streams, brought him to the field just in time. An
hour later, and all might have been lost."

An officer of his division has recounted to me some thrilling
incidents of that memorable conflict.

"It was nearly sunset when Nelson, at the head of his troops, landed
on the west bank of the river, in the midst of the conflict. The
landing and shore of the river, up and down, were covered by five
thousand of our beaten and demoralized soldiers, whom no appeals or
efforts could rally. Nelson, with difficulty, forced his way through
the crowd, shaming them for their cowardice as he passed, and riding
upon a knoll overlooking his disembarking men, cried out, in
stentorian tones: 'Colonel A., have you your regiment formed?' 'In a
moment, General,' was the reply. 'Be quick; time is precious; moments
are golden.' 'I am ready now, General.' 'Forward--march!' was his
command; and the gallant 6th Ohio was led quickly to the field.

"That night Nelson asked Captain Gwynne, of the 'Tyler,' to send him a
bottle of wine and a box of cigars; 'for to-morrow I will show you a
man-of-war fight.'

"During the night Buell came up and crossed the river, and by daylight
next morning our forces attacked Beauregard, and then was fought the
desperate battle of Shiloh. Up to twelve M. we had gained no decisive
advantage; in fact, the desperate courage of the enemy had caused us
to fall back. 'General Buell,' said my informant, 'now came to the
front, and held a hasty consultation with his Generals. They decided
to charge the rebels, and drive them back. Nelson rode rapidly to the
head of his column, his gigantic figure conspicuous to the enemy in
front, and in a voice that rang like a trumpet over the clangor of
battle, he called for four of his finest regiments in succession--the
24th Ohio, 36th Indiana, 17th Kentucky, and 6th Ohio. 'Trail arms;
forward; double-quick--march;' and away, with thundering cheers, went
those gallant boys. The brave Captain (now Brigadier-General) Terrell,
who alone was left untouched of all his battery, mounted his horse,
and, with wild huzzas, rode, with Nelson, upon the foe.

"It was the decisive moment; it was like Wellington's 'Up, guards, and
at them!' The enemy broke, and their retreat commenced. That was the
happiest moment of my life when Nelson called my regiment to make that
grand charge.

"Let the country mourn the sad fate of General Nelson. He was a loyal
Kentuckian; fought gallantly the battles of his Government; earned all
his distinction by gallant deeds. All his faults were those of a
commander anxious to secure the highest efficiency of his troops by
the most rigid discipline of his officers, and in this severe duty he
has, at last, lost his life.

"His death, after all, was beautiful. He told Colonel Moody, in
Nashville, that, though he swore much, yet he never went to bed
without saying his prayers; and now, at last, we find him on his
death-bed, not criminating or explaining, but seeking the consolations
of religion. _Requiescat in pace!_"




CHAPTER III.

     Description of a Battle -- The 2d Ohio (Colonel Harris) at
     Perryville -- Major-General McCook's Report -- Major-General
     Rousseau's Report -- Sketch of Major-General A. McD. McCook.


  "Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
  Then rushed the steeds to battle driven,
  And, louder than the bolts of heaven,
  Far flashed the red artillery!"

Many of you have, no doubt, looked upon the field of battle where
contending hosts have met in deadly strife. But there are those whose
eyes have never gazed upon so sad a sight; and to such I may be
enabled to present a picture that will at best give you but a faint
idea of the terrible reality of a fiercely-contested field.

Imagine thousands upon thousands on either side, spreading over a vast
expanse of ground, each armed with all the terrible machinery of
modern warfare, and striving to gain the advantage of their opponents
by some particular movement, studied long by those learned in the art
of war.

Then comes the clang of battle; steel meets steel, drinking the blood
of contending foes. The sabers flash and glitter in the sunlight,
descending with terrible force upon devoted heads, which were once
pillowed on the bosoms of fond and devoted mothers. Jove's dread
counterfeit is heard on every hand; the balls and shells go whistling
and screaming by, the most terrible music to ears not properly attuned
to the melody of war. Thousands sink upon the ground overpowered, to
be trodden under foot of the flying steed, or their bones to be left
whitening the incarnadined field. Blows fall thick and heavy on every
hand. The cries of the wounded and the orders of the commanders mingle
together; and, to the uninitiated, all appears "confusion worse
confounded."

But there is a method in all this _seeming_ madness; and that which
appears confusion is the result of well-laid plans. But as there is
"many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip," so there are slips in the
actions of the best regulated armies. Gunpowder, shot, shell, and
steel are not always to be implicitly relied upon: even they sometimes
fail in carrying out what were conceded to be designs infallible; so
true it is that "man proposes, _but God disposes_."

It has been my province to witness battles wherein Western men were
the heroes; and that Western men will fight, has been pretty well
authenticated during the present war. I have noticed the brave conduct
of the gallant troops, the fighting boys of the various regiments of
the West, and have never known them to falter in the hour of danger.
They left their homes totally uneducated in warfare; they are now
veterans--each a hero.

The conduct of the 2d Ohio at Perryville is spoken of thus by a
correspondent:

"The brigade of Len Harris was in the center, and met the shock
simultaneously with the left and right. The whole brigade was in the
open fields, with the rebels in the woods before them. Long and
gallantly did they sustain their exposed positions. An Illinois
regiment, of Terrell's brigade, flying from the field, ran through
this brigade, with terrible cries of defeat and disaster; but the
gallant boys of the 2d Ohio and 38th Indiana only laughed at them, as,
lying down, they were literally run over by the panic-stricken
Illinoisans. Hardly had they disappeared in the woods in Harris's rear
when the rebels appeared in the woods in his front. At the same time
Rousseau came galloping along the line, and they received him with
cheers, and the rebels with a terrible fire. Terrible was the shock on
this part of the line, but gallant was the resistance. Up the hill
came the rebels, and made as gallant a charge as ever was met by brave
men. But, O! so terrible and bloody was the repulse! Along the line of
the 2d Ohio and 38th Indiana and Captain Harris's battery, I saw a
simultaneous cloud of smoke arise. One moment I waited. The cloud
arose, and revealed the broken column of rebels flying from the field,
but, in the distance, a second rapidly advancing. The shout that arose
from our men drowned the roar of cannon, and sent dismay into the
retreating, broken column."

In Major-General McCook's report of that battle, he says it was "_the
bloodiest battle in modern times_ for the number of troops engaged on
our side," and "the battle was principally fought by _Rousseau's
division_; and if there are, or ever were, better soldiers than the
old troops engaged, I have neither seen nor read of them." Speaking
of the new troops, General McCook points out those under the command
of Colonel Harris, saying: "For instance, in the Ninth Brigade, where
the 2d and 33d Ohio, 68th Indiana, and 10th Wisconsin fought so well,
I was proud to see the 94th and 98th Ohio vie with their brethren in
deeds of heroism." The 94th and 98th were new troops, and the example
of the old soldiers in Colonel Harris's brigade, and the distinguished
courage and good judgment of the Colonel, gave them confidence, and
they stood in the storm like veterans.


GENERAL ROUSSEAU'S REPORT OF THE BATTLE.

... "I then returned to Harris's brigade, hearing that the enemy was
close upon him, and found that the 33d Ohio had been ordered further
to the front by General McCook, and was then engaged with the enemy,
and needed support. General McCook, in person, ordered the 2d Ohio to
its support, and sent directions to me to order up the 24th Illinois
also, Captain Mauf commanding. I led the 24th Illinois, in line of
battle, immediately forward, and it was promptly deployed as
skirmishers by its commander, and went gallantly into action, on the
left of the 33d Ohio. The 2d Ohio, moving up to support the 33d Ohio,
was engaged before it arrived on the ground where the 33d was
fighting. The 38th Indiana, Colonel B. F. Scribner commanding, then
went gallantly into action, on the right of the 2d Ohio. Then followed
in support the 94th Ohio, Colonel Frizell. I wish here to say that
this regiment, although new, and but few weeks in the service,
behaved most gallantly, under the steady lead of its brave Colonel
Frizell. Colonel Harris's whole brigade--Simonson's battery on its
right--was repeatedly assailed by overwhelming numbers, but gallantly
held its position. The 38th Indiana and 2d Ohio, after exhausting
their ammunition and that taken from the boxes of the dead and wounded
on the field, still held their position, as did also, I believe, the
10th Wisconsin and 33d Ohio. For this gallant conduct these brave men
are entitled to the gratitude of the country, and I thank them here,
as I did on the field of battle....

"I had an opportunity of seeing and knowing the conduct of Colonel
Starkweather, of the Twenty-eighth Brigade, Colonel Harris, of the
Ninth Brigade, and of the officers and men under their command, and I
can not speak too highly of their bravery and gallantry on that
occasion. They did, cheerfully and with alacrity, all that brave men
could do...."

"I herewith transmit the reports of Colonels Starkweather, Harris, and
Pope, and also a list of casualties in my division, amounting, in all,
to 1,950 killed and wounded. My division was about 7,000 strong when
it went into the action. We fought the divisions of Anderson,
Cheatham, and Buckner.

"I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

                                        "Lovell H. ROUSSEAU."


It will not be amiss here to give a brief outline of the early
history, coming down to a recent date, of the renowned hero,
Major-General A. McD. McCOOK, United States Volunteers.

He was born in Columbiana County, Ohio, April 22, 1831. At the age of
sixteen he entered the Military Academy at West Point, as a cadet. He
graduated in July, 1852, and was commissioned Brevet Second
Lieutenant, in the 3d Regiment United States Infantry. After being
assigned to duty for a few months, at Newport Barracks, Ky., he was
ordered, in April, 1853, to join his regiment, then serving in the
Territory of New Mexico. Here he remained nearly five years,
constantly on active duty in the field, and participating in all the
Indian campaigns on that wild and remote frontier. His long services
and good conduct were mentioned in General Orders by Lieutenant-General
Winfield Scott. In January, 1858, he was ordered from New Mexico to
West Point, and assigned to duty in the Military Academy, as
instructor in Tactics and the Art of War. On the breaking out of the
rebellion he was relieved from duty there, and ordered, in April,
1861, to Columbus, Ohio, to muster in volunteers. Before his arrival
there he was elected Colonel of the 1st Ohio Volunteers, a
three-months regiment, already on its way to the seat of war in
Virginia; and hastening to join the command, to which he was elected
without his knowledge or solicitation, soon had an opportunity of
exhibiting those admirable qualities as a field-officer for which he
has since become so justly distinguished. His coolness in the
unfortunate affair at Vienna, and his consummate military skill in the
management of his command at Bull Run, were universally commended. At
the close of that eventful conflict he marched his regiment back to
Centerville in the same good order in which it had left there, an
honorable exception to the wide-spread confusion and disorder that
prevailed elsewhere among the National forces.

When the three-months troops were mustered out of the service he
received permission to raise the 1st Regiment Ohio Volunteers, a
three-years regiment; but on the 3d of September, 1861, and before
his command was ready to take the field, he was appointed
Brigadier-General of Volunteers, and assigned to command the advance
of the Federal forces then in Kentucky, at Camp Nevin. Here, and at
Green River, he organized his splendid Second Division, with which he
afterward marched to Nashville, and thence toward the Tennessee River.

On the 6th of April, 1862, alarmed by the sullen sound of distant
artillery, and learning the precarious situation of Grant's army, he
moved his division, over desperate roads, twenty-two miles, to
Savannah, and there embarked on steamboats for Pittsburg Landing.
After clearing a way with the bayonet through the army of stragglers
that swarmed upon the bank of the river, soon after daylight on the
morning of the 7th of April, the Second Division of the Army of the
Ohio advanced through the sad scenes of our defeat the day before, and
deployed, with stout hearts and cheers, upon the field of Shiloh.
General McCook fought his troops that day with admirable judgment. He
held them in hand; his line of battle was not once broken--it was not
once retired; but was steadily and determinedly advanced until the
enemy fled, and the reverse of the day before was more than redeemed
by a splendid victory.

In the movement on Corinth, a few weeks after the battle of Shiloh,
General McCook had the honor of being in the advance of General
Buell's army corps, and his skirmishers were among the first to scale
the enemy's works.

The rank of major-general of volunteers was soon after conferred upon
him, in view of his distinguished services--a promotion not
undeserved.

After the evacuation of Corinth, the command of General McCook was
moved through Northern Alabama to Huntsville, thence to Battle Creek,
where his forces remained for two months, in front of Bragg's army at
Chattanooga. Upon the withdrawal of Buell's army from Alabama and
Tennessee, General McCook moved his division, by a long march of four
hundred miles, back to Louisville.

Here he was assigned to command the First Corps in the Army of the
Ohio, and started on a new campaign, under Buell, in pursuit of Bragg.
The enemy were met and engaged near Perryville, and two divisions of
McCook's corps (one of them composed of raw recruits) bore the assault
of almost the entire army of General Bragg. The unexpected and
unannounced withdrawal of General Gilbert's forces on his right; the
sad and early loss of those two noble soldiers, Terrell and Jackson,
and the tardiness of reinforcements, made the engagement a desperate
one, and resulted in a victory, incomplete but honorable, to the Union
forces. After the battle of Chaplin Hills, Bragg's army, worn and
broken, fled in dismay from Kentucky. The army corps of Major-General
McCook was afterward moved to Nashville, and he assumed command of the
Federal forces in that vicinity.

On the 6th of November, 1862, on the arrival of Major-General
Rosecrans, who succeeded Major-General Buell in command, General
McCook was assigned to command the right wing in the Department of the
Cumberland. On the 26th of December, 1862, the Army of the Cumberland
moved from Nashville to attack the enemy in position in front of
Murfreesboro. General McCook commanded the right. On the evening of
December 30 the two armies were in line of battle, confronting each
other. Rosecrans had massed his reserves on the left, to crush the
rebel right with heavy columns, and turn their position. Bragg,
unfortunately, learning of his dispositions during the night, massed
almost his entire army in front of McCook, and in the gray of the
following morning, and before we had attacked on the left, advanced
with desperate fury upon the right wing. Outnumbered, outflanked, and
overpowered, the right was forced to retire, not, however, until its
line of battle was marked with the evidences of its struggle and the
fearful decimation of the enemy. To check the advancing rebel masses,
already flushed with anticipated victory, the Federal reserves moved
rapidly to the rescue. The furious onslaught of the enemy was
resisted, and the right and the fortunes of the day were saved.

The rebels, whipped on the left and center, checked on the right,
foiled in every attack, having lost nearly one-third of their numbers,
fled from the field on the night of the 3d of January, and the
victorious Union army advanced through their intrenchments into
Murfreesboro. The great battle of Stone River, dearly won, and
incomplete in its results, was yet a victory.

The right was turned and forced to retire in the first day's fight.
Whether this was attributable to accidental causes, that decide so
many important engagements, or to the superior generalship of the
rebel commander, it is at least certain that generalship was not
wanting in the disposition of the forces under General McCook; nor was
courage wanting in his troops.

Major-General McCook now commands the Twentieth Army Corps.




CHAPTER IV.

     Looking for the Body of a Dead Nephew on the Field of
     Murfreesboro -- The 6th Ohio at Murfreesboro -- The Dead of
     the 6th -- The 35th Indiana -- Putting Contrabands to Some
     Service -- Anxiety of Owners to Retain their Slaves --
     Conduct of a Mistress -- "Don't Shoot, Massa, here I Is!" --
     Kidd's Safeguard -- "Always Been a Union Man" -- Negroes
     Exhibiting their Preference for their Friends.


On the gory field of Murfreesboro, upon the ushering in of the new
year, many a noble life was ebbing away. It was a rainy, dismal night;
and, on traversing that field, I saw many a spot sacred to the memory
of my loved companions of the glorious 6th Ohio. I incidentally heard
of the death of a nephew in that fight. I thought of his poor mother.
How could I break the news to her! Yes, there was I, surrounded by
hundreds of dead and wounded, _pitying the living_. O, how true it is
that--

  Death's swift, unerring dart brings to its victim calm and peaceful rest,
  While those _who live_ mourn and live on--the arrow in their breast!

With anxious haste I sought his body during that night. Many an
upturned face, some with pleasing smile, and others with vengeance
depicted, seemed to meet my gaze.

Stragglers told me to go further to the left. "There's where
Crittenden's boys gave 'em h--l!" Just to the right of the railroad I
found young Stephens, of the 24th Ohio. His leg was shattered. He
called me by name, and begged me to get him some water, as he was
perishing. I went back to the river, stripped three or four dead of
their canteens, and filled them, and returned. He told me that young
Tommy Burnett was only wounded. He saw him carried back. This relieved
my anxiety. The next day the dead were buried. There, amid the shot
and shell and other _debris_ of the battle-field, the dead heroes of
the 6th lie, until the last trump shall call.

A few days afterward I met one of the officers of that regiment. Of
him I eagerly inquired as to its fate. A tear fell from his manly eye
as he exclaimed, "O, sad enough, Alf! Our boys were terribly cut up;
but they fought like tigers--no flinching there; no falling out of
line; shoulder to shoulder they stood amid the sheeted flame; and,
though pressed by almost overwhelming numbers, no blanched cheek, no
craven look, not the slightest token of fear was visible. The boys
were there to do or die. They were Ohio boys, and felt a pride in
battling for their country and her honor." And when I asked of names
familiar, the loss, indeed, seemed fearful. "What became," said I, "of
Olly Rockenfield?" "Dead!" was the reply. "And George Ridenour?"
"Wounded--can not live!"

Dave Medary, a perfect pet of the regiment, a boy so childlike, so
quiet in his deportment, yet with as brave a heart as Julius
Cæsar--LITTLE DAVE was killed! I saw his grave a few days after. It
was half a mile to the left of the railroad; and, although it was
January, the leaves of the prairie-rose were full and green, bending
over him as if in mourning for the early dead.

Jack Colwell--few of the typos of Cincinnati but knew Jack, or ADD, as
he was frequently called--poor Jack died from want of attention! His
wound was in the leg, below the knee. I saw him a week after the
battle, and the ball was not yet extracted.

Adjutant Williams, Lieutenant Foster, Captain McAlpin, Captain Tinker,
Lieutenant Schaeffer, young Montaldo, Harry Simmonds, A. S. Shaw, John
Crotty, and many others, were wounded or killed in the terrific storm
of shot and shell sent by the rebel horde under Breckinridge. At one
time every standard-bearer was wounded, and for a moment the flag of
the 6th lay in the dust; but Colonel Anderson seized it and waved it
in proud defiance, wounded though he was. The Colonel soon found
claimants for the flag, and had to give it up to those to whose proud
lot it fell to defend it.

O! the wild excitement of a fight! How completely carried away men
become by enthusiasm! They know no danger; they see none--are
oblivious to every thing but _hope of victory_! Men behold their boon
companions fall, yet onward they dash with closed ranks, themselves
the next victims.

There are few in the Army of the Cumberland who have not heard of the
35th Indiana, commanded by Colonel Mullen, of Madison, and as fine an
Irish regiment as ever trod the poetic sod of the Emerald Isle. On
their march up from Huntsville, Alabama, toward Louisville, Kentucky,
on the renowned parallel run between Buell and Bragg, the command were
short of provisions. _Half-rations_ were considered a rarity. Father
Cony, who is at all times assiduous in his duties to his flock, had
called his regiment together, and was instilling into their minds the
necessity of their trusting in Providence. He spoke of Jesus feeding
the multitude upon three barley loaves and five small fishes. Just at
this juncture an excitable, stalwart son of Erin arose and shouted:
"Bully for him! He's the man we want for the _quarter-master of this
regiment_!"

Early in January General Rosecrans issued his orders that all the men
that could possibly be spared from detail duty should be immediately
placed into the ranks, and that negroes should be "conscripted" or
captured to take their places as teamsters, blacksmiths, cooks, etc.
By this means the Third Division of the Army of the Cumberland, then
under General James B. Steadman, was increased eight hundred men--men
acclimated--men who could shoulder a musket. This was all done in less
than three weeks. The negroes were all taken from rebel plantations.

One morning Colonel Vandeveer, of the 35th Ohio, commanding the Third
Brigade, sent an orderly to my tent to inquire if I would not like to
accompany an excursion into the enemy's country. As items were scarce,
I at once assented; and, although scarce daybreak, off we went. The
Colonel informed me that, as I was a good judge of darkeys, General
Steadman had advised my going with the party.

We called first at Mrs. Carmichael's, and got two boys, aged,
respectively, fifteen and seventeen. Mrs. Carmichael begged, and,
finally, wept quite bitterly at the prospect of losing her boys--said
those were all she had left--(she had sent the others South). She
plead with us not to take "them boys"--said "they wern't no
account--couldn't do nothing nohow." But the _mother_ of these boys
told our men a different story, and begged us to take the boys, "For,"
said she, "dey does all de plantin' corn and tendin' in de feel. Dey's
my chill'n, and if I never sees 'em agin, I want de satisfaction of
knowin' _dey is free_!"

Mrs. Carmichael's supplications for the negroes not to be taken from
her were quite pitiful. She said they had been _allers_ raised _jest_
like as they were her own flesh and blood, and she just _keered_ for
'em the same. But, as Mrs. Carmichael had two sons in the rebel army,
the boys were taken. Upon the first order to come with us they seemed
delighted, which caused the mistress to become very wrathy. I told the
boys to go to their cabin and get their blankets, as they would need
them. Judge my surprise when this _kind-hearted_ woman, who had just
informed me that she had "allers treated them boys as if they were her
own flesh and blood"--this woman seized the blankets from the
half-naked boys, and fairly shrieked at them: "You nasty, dirty little
nigger thieves! if them Yankees want to steal you, let 'em find you in
blankets; _I'm not a-going to do it!_" I merely inquired if that was
the way in which she treated _her other children_--those in the REBEL
_army_?

From thence we went to Mrs. Kidd's, who had a husband and two sons in
the rebel service. On our approach she endeavored to secrete some of
the blacks, _but they_ wouldn't "_stay hid_." The cause of the visit
was explained. The rebels had been driving most of the likely negroes
South. They were using them against the Government; and it was
thought, by some, that they might as well work for as _against_ the
UNION. They were raising their crops, running their mills,
manufacturing their army-wagons, etc., besides supporting the families
of the rebels, thus placing every able-bodied white man of the South
in the hands of the government. The Federal service needed teamsters
and hospital nurses and cooks.

Mrs. Kidd seemed quite a reasonable woman--said she thought she
understood the policy of the North, and that the South knew that
_slavery_ was their strength. I made the remark, that, probably, if
her husband knew she would be left without help, perhaps he would be
induced to return and respect the old flag that had at all times,
while he was loyal to it, defended him.

This little speech on my part elicited a rejoinder from a young miss,
a daughter of Mrs. Kidd, sixteen or seventeen years of age, who
flirted around, and with a nose that reached the altitude of at least
"eighty-seven" degrees, exclaimed--

"I don't want my PAR nor my brothers to come home not till every one
of you _Yankees_ is driven from our sile!"

Some of the boys were busy hunting for a secreted negro, one whom this
young lady had stored away for safety. A soldier opened a smoke-house
door, at which the young Secesh fairly yelled--

"There aint no nigger there! You Yankees haint a bit o' sense! You
don't know a smoke-house from a hut, nohow!"

Supposing the negro, who we felt almost sure was there, might possibly
have escaped, we were about retiring with those already collected,
when I suggested, loud enough for any one to hear about the building,
that the whole squad should pour a volley through that rickety old
dormer-window that projected from the room, when, much to our
astonishment, and amid roars of laughter, appeared a woolly head,
white eye-balls distended, the darkey yelling loud and fast--

"DON'T SHOOT, MASSA! don't shoot! HERE I IS! I's a comin'! De missus
made me clime on dis roof. I wants to go wid you folks anyhow!"

Mr. Crossman's plantation was then visited; but, as the rebels had
driven him away because of his Unionism, and taken his horses, his
property was undisturbed by us.

From thence we visited Nolinsville--met a gang of twenty
"likely-looking boys," stout, healthy fellows, who had clubbed
together to come to the Union camp. They told us the rebs were only
four miles off, "scriptin' all the niggers dar was in de fields, and
a-runnin' 'em South." These were added to our stock in trade.

On our way back, a couple of old, sour-looking WOMEN were standing on
the steps that were built for them to _climb_ a _fence_, who, seeing
so many blacks, inquired what we were taking them for. "To work," was
the reply. "The rebels were about to run them South, and we wanted
them to work for us."

"Now who told you that?" they inquired.

"The negroes themselves, madam. Many of them came voluntarily, to
escape being sent South."

"O, yes! you Federals git your information from the _niggers
altogether_."

"Yes, madam!" facetiously replied Captain Dickerson, of the 2d
Minnesota Regiment, "that's a fact. All the _reliable_ information
does come from them."

On our homeward trip we called at what is known as "Kidd's Mills,"
between Concord Church and Nolinsville. There were there quite a
number employed upon the lumber and grist. A selection was made from
the lot. They _all_ wanted to come, but some were too young, and
others too _old_.

Old man Kidd said he had a "safeguard from the Gineral. The Gineral
had been up to see his darters, Delilah and Susan, and give him a
safeguard." Upon examination it was found to be a mere request.
Requests don't stand in military (not arbitrary enough). Then the old
man declared he had always been a Union man--"allers said this war
wern't no good--that the South had better stand by the old flag."

I at once told him if _such was the case_ he was all right--to just
get his horse and come with me, and if he had "_allers_" been a
"_Union man_" or a non-combatant, why, they would all be returned to
him.

The negroes were grouped around with anxious faces, and with rather
astonished looks; and, as Mr. Kidd went to the stable, a venerable,
white-haired old darkey, who had been told to stand back--he was too
old to join the Union teamsters--came forward, and begged to be taken.
"Why, I does heap o' work. I tends dis mill; I drives a team fustrate.
_Please take de ole man_, and let him _die free_!"

Another negro, too old to take, spoke up and said: "What was dat de
old man Kidd told you?"

"Why," I replied, "he said he had always been a Union man."

"DE LOR' BRESS MY SOUL! Did he say dat _he_ was a Union man?"

"Yes!"

"Well! well! well! Dat he was a Union man! Well! well! well! And he's
gwine to de Gineral for to tell him dat; and dat ole man is a member
ob de Church! Well! well! well! Why, look heah, my Men', when de rebs
was here only a few weeks ago--when dey was here, dat ole man got on
his white hoss, and took de seceshum flag, and rode, and rode, and
waved dat rebel flag and shouted, and more dan hollered for Jeff
Davis, and _now_ he Union man! He wants de Gineral to gib up dese here
colored people--_dat's what's de matter wid him_!"

In an hour after we arrived in camp, sure enough, the old Kidd and
other parties were there, expecting or hoping to get their darkeys
back; but General Steadman told them if the negroes _wished_ to
return, they could do so, but, if they chose rather to work for "UNCLE
SAM," why, his orders were to use them.

"Well, _Gineral_, you just tell my niggers that they can go home with
me," said Kidd.

"O! they can if they want to." So, out goes Kidd, smiling as a "basket
of chips."

"Boys, the Gineral says you can all go home _with me_."

"IF YOU WANT TO," was my addition _to his sentence_.

Not a negro stirred from the line. After a brief consultation, in an
under tone, at which Kidd, I noticed, was becoming very impatient,
Kidd broke the quietude by saying:

"Come on, boys--come, Jim."

Jim looked over to Bob and said: "Bob, what are you going to do?"

"Me! Ise gwine to stay for de UNION!"

Old man Kidd looked beaten. "Well, Jim, what will _you_ do?"

"O! I does what Bob does!"

_This same old Kidd_ had been in the habit of going over the country
enlisting recruits for the rebel service--telling them that he was an
old man, or he would go himself; that the old folks expected to be
taxed to take care of the soldiers' families; that if they wanted corn
or any thing from his mill, while they were in the army, to come and
get it. By such language he induced several men, who had only small
families, to enlist. One of them was indebted to Kidd about thirteen
dollars, and after he had been in the army a month or two, Kidd dunned
him for the old bill, remarking:

"Well, John, you're in the army now, gittin' your regular pay
now--guess you can pay that little bill now, can't you?"




CHAPTER V.

     Cutting Down a Rebel's Reserved Timber -- Home again --
     Loomis and his Coldwater Battery -- Secession Poetry --
     Heavy Joke on an "Egyptian" Regiment.


Just after General Schofield took command of the Third Division, Roddy
Patterson, aided by a division of infantry, made his appearance near
our camp, and, as we were weak in numbers, fortifications were erected
in every direction, trenches dug, and efforts made to place the troops
in the best trim to give the rebs a "fine reception."

There was one splendid piece of timber-land that might possibly come
in possession of the rebels and do us much mischief. General Schofield
ordered it cleared, and soon twelve hundred axes were resounding
through the vast forest, and Abe's rail-splitters were at work forming
"abatis" from the fallen trees, while earthworks commanding the
position were soon erected.

Captain Stinchcomb was the provost-marshal of the division, and old
man Jordan was in the habit of going to him with all his grievances.
The soldiers had made an awful gap in his _reserved_ timber before he
found it out; but, as soon as he did so, he made for head-quarters,
and found the Captain at dinner.


_Scene I--Act 1--Enter Old Man._

"Look a-heah, Gineral Stinchcomb, them boys of yourn is cuttin' all my
timber down!"

Captain Stinchcomb, affecting great surprise, exclaimed, "Is it
possible! is it possible!"

"Y-a-a-a-s; all my _resarve, too_! There! there! do you hear that?
Them's trees a-fallin', and them's the boys yellin' as they fall."

"What are they cutting them for, Mr. Jordan?"

"God only knows! I don't. I think just for to be doin' mischief.
_Nauen_ else in this world."

"Why didn't you stop them?" inquired Stinchcomb.

"O! kase I was afeared. There! there! do you hear that agin? Them's my
trees!"

"Well, you'd better go right down and order them to stop."

"O, no, Gineral. It wouldn't do a bit of good. Them there boys would
_just cuss the life out of me_. They only laugh at me. Won't you
please go and have it stopped? Won't you?"

Suffice it to say, when Captain S. got there _it was too late_.

There are many little incidents connected with the army, which, being
jotted down in my "day-book," during service, belong to the public.

"Home Again" is a song ever joyous to the soldier, and I remember a
little incident in relation to that song and a serenading party of
"young and festive cusses" belonging to Uncle Sam's service.

There is residing near Murfreesboro a Secession family consisting of a
rebel widow and four sprightly daughters.

Now, our "blue-coats" are proverbial for their gallantry in presence
of the ladies, and the Secesh girls smile as benignly upon a Federal
soldier, if he be good-looking, as they would upon the most ultra
fire-eater of the South. The mothers don't like this--but mothers
can't help themselves in many instances. Our boys will visit and enjoy
a lively chat with the girls whenever occasion offers. A quartette, of
fine vocal abilities, belonging to the gallant Rousseau's division,
had practiced several beautiful ballads, preparatory to a grand
serenade to the daughters of the buxom widow.

Night threw her mantle o'er the earth just as the serenaders started
upon their expedition. Arriving in dew course of time, they commenced
their melodies. The moon was peeping out from behind the far-distant
hill as they commenced,

  "Roll on, silver moon,"

at which I suggested to the party there should be a big premium, just
now, on "_silver_ moons." The serenaders smiled grimly, in token of
admiration of the "_goak_," and commenced--

  "Thine eyes, like the stars that are gleaming,
     Have entered the depths of my soul."

Now, the repetition of "my soul" sounded to me exactly like mice-hole,
and I suggested the propriety of substituting a rat-hole, at which
several became wrathy, and proposed a mustard-plaster for my head.

The young ladies, aroused from their nocturnal slumbers, glided like
sylphs to the windows, and threw several bouquets to the "gallant
choristers," after the reception of which, and sundry pressures to
fond hearts of the "beautiful flowers," the quartette commenced the
song of "Home Again," etc., and

  "O, it fills my soul with joy, to meet my friends once more."

This brought the widow to the window, who, hastily flinging back the
shutter, screamed out, at the top of her voice: "If it will give you
Yankees any greater joy to get home than it will me, I hope to
gracious you'll stop your confounded noise and go home and meet your
friends, for you've got none here."

This was a bomb-shell thrown right at the party, and such a crouching
down and gradual sliding off you can scarcely imagine. To be led, as
't were, to the seventh heaven of bliss by the fair daughters'
presentation of beautiful bouquets, and then to have all their hopes
blasted by the termagant voice of the mamma! If any of my readers ever
visit Rousseau's division and inquire for the serenaders, my word for
it, the gentlemen concerned will have no recollection of the serenade.

Colonel Loomis, whose name is now engraven in history, and whose
battery is mentioned with pride everywhere in the Army of the
Cumberland, was, during the Virginia campaign, _Captain_ Loomis. He
was late Chief of Artillery upon Rousseau's staff. Captain Loomis,
with his train, arrived in Cincinnati one Sunday morning, on his way
to the Army of Virginia. Upon each caisson and every piece of
artillery was plainly painted "Coldwater Battery."

Services in a church on Sixth Street were just concluded, and the
warlike array attracted the congregation's attention, and the rather
splendid figure of the young though "venerable-looking" Captain Loomis
demanded a large share of attention. The pastor of the church
introduced himself, spoke with admiration of the fine appearance of
the Captain's men, etc., and, with a hearty pressure of the hand,
remarked:

"Captain Loomis, yours is a noble motto; stick to that, stick to that,
my young soldier. You have many hardships to undergo, but your
glorious motto of COLD WATER will carry you safely through."

Loomis, for the first time, caught the idea of the parson, but was too
courteous to undeceive the preacher by informing him that his battery
was raised in the town of Coldwater, Michigan. I have spent many a
pleasant hour with the Captain, but never could "see" the "cold water"
part of his battery.

A very pretty and pathetic little poem was handed me by one of
Secessia's daughters, upon a prolific theme, entitled


THE DYING SOLDIER.

    My noble commander! thank God, you have come;
    You know the dear ones who are waiting at home,
    And O! it were dreadful to die here alone,
    No hand on my brow, and my comrades all gone.

    I thought I would die many hours ago,
    And those who are waiting me never could know
    That here, in the faith of its happier years,
    My soul has not wandered one moment from theirs.

    The dead were around; but my soul was away
    With the roses that bloom round my cottage to-day.
    I thought that I sat where the jessamine twines,
    And gathered the delicate buds from the vines.

    And there--like a bird that had folded its wings,
    At home, 'mid the smile of all beautiful things,
    With sweet words of welcome, and kisses of love--
    Was one I will miss in yon heaven above.

    By the light that I saw on her radiant brow,
    She watches and waits there and prays for me now.
    My captain, bend low; for this poor, wounded side
    Is draining my heart of its last crimson tide.

    Some day, when you leave this dark place, and go free,
    You will meet a fair girl--she will question of me!
    She has kissed this bright curl, as it lay on my head;
    When it goes back alone, she will know I am dead.
    And tell her the soul, which on earth was her own,
    Is waiting and weeping in heaven alone.

    MY MOTHER! God help her! Her grief will be wild
    When she hears the mad Hessians have murdered her child;
    But tell her 'twill be one sweet chime in my knell,
    That the flag of the South now waves where I fell!

    It is well, it is well, thus to die in my youth,
    A martyr to Freedom and Justice and Truth!
    Farewell to earth's hopes--precious dreams of my heart--
    My life's going out; but my love shall depart,
    On the wings that my soul has unfurled,
    Going up, soft and sweet, to that beautiful world.


A JOKE ON AN "EGYPTIAN" REGIMENT.

A well-known commander was drilling a brigade at "Kripple Kreek," a
short time since, and in it was a slim portion of the "1159th"
Illinois. Quite a large number of this regiment have deserted upon
every occasion offered, the men generally being very inattentive. The
commanding officer of "all that is left of them" was severely
censured, the other day, for dereliction of duty. The General swore by
the Eternal he wished the Colonel of the "1159th" would "_go home_ and
join his regiment."




CHAPTER VI.

     General Turchin -- Mrs. General Turchin in Command of the
     Vanguard of the 19th Illinois -- The 18th Ohio at Athens --
     Children and Fools always Tell the Truth -- Picket Talk --
     About Soldiers Voting -- Captain Kirk's Line of Battle.


It is well known by all that General Turchin has been fully
vindicated. Captain Heaton, of Columbiana County, who was an
eye-witness of his trial, and who knew the noble Russian, said to me,
in speaking of this gallant soldier, "He looked like a lion among a
set of jackals!" General Turchin was basely persecuted. He came out of
the ordeal unscathed. The correspondent of the _Gazette_, who was in
Huntsville, gave an account of affairs under Rousseau, who was as
rigid in the punishment of rebels as Mitchel was before him. The
court-martial convened to try Turchin for _punishing traitors_ bid
fair to last for months, under Buell's management.

Mrs. Turchin, before the arrest of her husband, had been making the
campaign of Northern Alabama in his company, enduring, with the utmost
fortitude, and for weeks together, all the hardships incident to a
soldier's life. To ride on horseback, forty or fifty miles per day,
was to her a mere matter of amusement, and in the recent march of the
19th Illinois, from Winchester to Bellefonte, she is said to have
taken command of the vanguard, and to have given most vigorous and
valuable directions for driving off and punishing the infamous
bushwhackers who infested the road. These and similar things had so
much excited the admiration of Colonel Turchin's men, that they would
have followed his gallant lady into the field of battle with all the
enthusiasm that fired the hearts of the French chivalry when gathered
around the standard of the Maid of Orleans. As soon as Colonel Turchin
was arrested, Mrs. Turchin suddenly disappeared. The next that was
heard from her she was in Washington City; and now the story goes,
that when she left the South she hastened to Chicago, enlisted the
sympathies of noble-hearted men in the cause of her husband,
prevailing upon a delegation of noble Illinoisans to accompany her to
Washington, and, with their assistance, secured the confirmation of
the Colonel as a brigadier-general of volunteers. Truly, in the
lottery matrimonial, Colonel Turchin had the fortune to draw an
invaluable prize.

All that has been alleged against Generals Turchin and Mitchel
authorizing the sacking of Athens, Alabama, appears to have reacted;
and, except General Rousseau, they were the most popular officers in
that region.

The 18th Ohio was stationed at Athens, and encamped upon the
fair-grounds. Here they were assailed by Scott's rebel cavalry. They
resisted for some hours, when, learning through their scouts that an
overwhelming force of the enemy were advancing against them, they
thought best to retire, which they did in good order. As they passed
through the town, on their way to Huntsville, some rash, inconsiderate
rebel sympathizers jeered at and insulted them, cheering lustily for
Jeff Davis and the Southern Confederacy. One or two of them, also,
seized their guns, and when the rebel forces made their appearance,
joined them in pursuit of our soldiers. A feeling of vindictive wrath
sprang up in the minds of the boys of the 18th, and when they met the
19th Illinois and other troops, who, under command of Colonel Turchin,
were coming to the rescue, they naturally magnified their own loss,
and told the rescuers exaggerated stories of the manner in which they
had been treated by the citizens of Athens.

Under those circumstances the whole force re-entered the town, driving
the rebels before them, and, in the midst of great excitement, vowing
vengeance. Then came the inevitable result: some good soldiers were
carried away into acts of unwarrantable violence, and a few
unprincipled scoundrels seized upon the opportunity to plunder,
pilfer, and steal. But the mass of the forces entered the place under
the impression (as appears from the testimony before the
court-martial) that it was to be sacked and burned, as a just and
proper military punishment. This impression was, unfortunately, not
corrected by Colonel Turchin, because it was, in all probability,
unknown to him. It arose, no doubt, from the fact that a general order
had been issued, or, as reported, was about to be issued, denouncing,
in severe terms, all citizens who should fire upon, or in any way
molest our troops, and threatening both them and their property with
destruction. Such a proclamation or order was, in fact, issued about
this time.

Notwithstanding it was generally understood that the plundering of
Athens was permitted, at least three-fourths of the soldiers
voluntarily abstained from laying their hands upon a single dollar's
worth of private property.

Now, as to the outrages themselves, I unhesitatingly pronounce that
they have been greatly exaggerated. To say that the town was in any
way "ruined" is simply an exhibition of ignorance on the part of those
who are not acquainted with the facts, and a falsehood on the part of
those who are.

Some three or four stores were broken into, and the most valuable part
of the merchandise abstracted; the contents of the apothecary's shop
were badly injured, and articles of value were taken from at least a
dozen houses; some thousands of dollars' worth of horses, mules, and
"niggers" were taken out of the town and suburbs; two or three
scoundrels abused the persons of as many colored women; and this was
the extent of the "ruin" inflicted upon Athens. I visited it more than
a month ago. I saw no sign of "ruin," dissolution, or decay, and I am
too good a friend of the Athenians not to say that I consider their
beautiful town as being to-day the most flourishing in all North
Alabama; and if a citizen from any other place, especially from
Huntsville, should go to Athens and say otherwise, nothing but the
presence of the military would prevent him from getting a thrashing
upon the spot.

It is an old and trite saying, that "children and fools always tell
the truth." Captain Moar and Lieutenant Wood, of General Steadman's
staff, went out with a full expedition. It was under Colonel Bishop,
of the 2d Minnesota; but these staff officers preceded the party. We
arrived at the proposed field, where we were to bivouac for the night.
A house was near, and Colonel Moar proposed to go there and order
supper. There were four females in the house. All pretended to be glad
to receive us. We brought them sugar and coffee, articles they had not
enjoyed for over a year. While supper was preparing, Lieutenant Wood,
seeing a very pretty little girl, said to her, "Come here, sissy."

The child reluctantly advanced, and as the Lieutenant placed her upon
his knee, the little innocent looked up and said, "I HATE YANKEES!"

The mother tried to catch the eye of the child.

Lieutenant Wood said, "O, no, you don't!"

"Yes, I do," reiterated the child.

"Why, sissy, what makes you hate Yankees?"

"_'Cause mother told me I must_," was the child's reply.

The mother blushed crimson, and said, very confusedly, "WHY, HATTIE! I
NEVER!"


PICKET TALK.

I have often heard pickets chaff one another. Just after the capture
of New Orleans, one of our boys, on picket duty, as light dawned,
discovered a rebel just lighting his breakfast-fire up a ravine. Our
picket called out to the rebel to stop building fires and come over
and take breakfast with him. The rebel replied:

"No, I shan't, You haven't got any coffee."

"Yes, I have," says the Union soldier.

"Well, you haven't any sugar?"

"Yes, we have. We've got _Orleans_."

The man who makes the assertion that our boys in the field, when
called upon to vote on resolutions, are influenced by fear of
officers, _is most grossly mistaken_. Why, your American soldier is
the most independent "cuss" in the world; and if a regiment is in
line, and asked to vote, you may rest assured they vote as they
please, and are governed by the dictates of their own consciences. The
great address that was sent from the army was voted upon in this way:
The regiments were drawn up in line, the address read, and the
color-bearers were asked, "Do you indorse the address to which you
have listened?" From every one came the hearty "I do!" when the colors
were ordered two paces front. The regiments then voted on the address,
the "ayes" stepping out in line with the colors, and, if there had
been any "noes," they were to stand fast; but I have yet to hear of
the man who did so. They rallied on their colors to a man, and stood
with an unbroken front.

During the fight this side of Chapel Hill, Captain Kirk, one of the
General's aids, seeing two rebels a little way off, on a by-road, put
spurs to horse and gave chase. We all watched him very eagerly until
he ascended the hill, when three more rebs joined the two, and made a
stand. Kirk, thinking discretion the better part of valor, reined in
his horse, when, to the infinite amusement of the staff, young Lu.
Steadman (a son of the General, and, though but sixteen years of age,
a gallant boy) exclaimed: "Father, father, look yonder; _Kirk has
formed a line of battle!_" It is scarcely necessary to say that Kirk
soon changed his base on a _double-quick_.




CHAPTER VII.

     Comic Scenes -- Importation of Yankees -- Wouldn't Go Round
     -- Major Boynton and the Chicken -- Monotony of Camp Life --
     Experience on a Scouting Expedition -- Larz Anderson, Esq.,
     in Camp -- A Would-be Secessionist Caught in his Own Trap --
     Guthrie Gray Bill of Fare for a Rebel "Reception" -- Pic
     Russell among the Snakes.


                              Army of the Cumberland, Third Division,
                              Camp near Triune, Tenn., _May 2, 1863_.

"What will become of all of us women?" said an excited female to
Colonel Vandeveer, one morning. "The States-rights men 'scripted all
the young men, and you are drivin' all the old away. What will we
ladies do?"

"Import Yankees," was the gallant Colonel's reply.

"We are raising a big stock especially for this market, and can spare
any quantity."

"O! but Yankees don't suit us; we'd rather have our own people," was
Secesh's reply.

"O! if that's the case, you women had better use your influence to get
the traitors to lay down their arms and return to their homes, and
behave themselves as honest men should, and that will end this little
dispute, and you can have all the men you want."

"Well, Colonel, we are all tired of this war, and would be mighty glad
to know our kinfolks were on their way home; but it will be mighty
grindin' to 'em to have to come back and acknowledge that they
couldn't lick you Yankees."

Deserters from the rebel army, I am told by citizens, are fast making
their appearance wherever they can get the protection of our forces,
and as we advance they will no doubt increase.

The provost-marshal of the division was kept busy administering the
oath to those who came in from the surrounding country to Triune. Many
very laughable incidents occurred at the swearing-in.

One long, lean, lank specimen of the rebel order came up to Captain
Stinchcomb, who was proposing the oath.

"Hallo, mister, are you the captain of these ridgements around here?
Dr. Wilson, my neighbor over across Spring Bottom, said I must come
over to the feller what swored in folks, and get the Constitution, and
keep it as long as you folks staid around here."


WOULDN'T GO ROUND.

Captain Airhardt, who was well known as the Topographical Engineer of
this division, and one of the best-natured men in the world, was
engaged in strengthening the fortifications around the camp near
Triune, and in doing so had occasion to use some fifty men from the 2d
Minnesota. As the boys had worked faithfully for four hours, the
Captain thought he would issue a ration of whisky to each, and, not
having any himself, he borrowed some from General Steadman's tent,
without leave, from a keg the General had been keeping for his own
medical purposes. He drew off about a gallon. The boys were drawn up
in line, and the Captain commenced the issue, and as each man
received his portion he was ordered to fall out. They did so, however,
seeking the first opportunity to retire to the other end of the line,
and again resume a position in the ranks. The Captain went after
reinforcements of the _creature comfort_ from the before-mentioned
keg, and the _reinstated_ members of the ditch-diggers were again
ready for active service.

This state of things continued as long as the whisky lasted, and as
the Captain handed the last ration, he looked at the few remaining
boys, whom he supposed would have to go without any, and expressed his
sorrow that he _hadn't enough to go round_. The fact was, every body
had had at least three drinks.

I spent a very pleasant evening among a party of ladies who reside
near our camp. Our officers are very attentive to them, and the ladies
seem thankful for the protection. The house was furnished in elegant
style. We had music, songs, and an elocutionary entertainment; every
thing passing off pleasantly. As I am above suspicion myself, I may
remark that I fear for the hearts of several of this brigade. Mine is
already engaged; had it not been, I could not swear to the
consequences of that visit. One really pretty specimen of Secesh sang
"The Bonnie Blue Flag," by particular desire. She acknowledged she
used to go it strong for dissolution, but let us hope she is becoming
enlightened.

[Illustration: Runaway scrape in Virginia. See page 76.]


MAJOR BOYNTON AND THE CHICKEN.

Miss Mollie Jordan is a peculiar specimen of _ye Southern maiden_. I
heard a good story illustrative of her rebellious nature some time
ago:

Our troops were then stationed at Concord Church, and, in their
peregrinations for fodder, came out this way, and, among other things,
took off several contrabands belonging to Miss Mollie. Some time
afterward she rode into camp and inquired for Colonel Vandeveer, and
riding right up to him, she said, "How do, Colonel?" The Colonel
tipped his hat, _a la militaire_, in token of recognition. "Colonel,
you've been out our way and stole all my niggers, and I've just ridden
into camp to see if you would be magnanimous enough to lend me my
blacksmith to shoe this horse?"

The Colonel assisted her in alighting; had her boy hunted up, and the
horse shod.

Dinner being ready, the lady was invited to partake of the repast;
and, as she noticed a chicken upon the table almost as large as a
turkey, she looked across at the Colonel, and then at the good-looking
Major Boynton, and inquired whom she was dining with.

"O, with the Major, Miss. Why did you ask?" said the Colonel.

"I merely wished to know who stole my chickens; for those were
particular pets of mine, and the only ones of that breed in the
country."

The reader can imagine the laugh that took place at the Major's
expense. As a matter of course, neither the Major nor the Colonel knew
any thing as to where the servant-man had _bought_ the fowls.

The Tennessee cavalry were out again yesterday, with Colonel Brownlow,
and touched up the Alabamians. They brought in six prisoners. The
rebels massed their men and undertook to charge us, but our Tennessee
boys stood their ground, and the rebels backed out. They outnumbered
us three to one; but they were not aware of that, or perhaps they
would have given us fits. Now Brownlow is a daring, dashing fellow,
and, in fact, all the officers and men seem made of the same material.

I suppose you will begin to think I've got cavalry on the brain, I
talk so much of those boys; but they, at present, are the only ones
out this way doing the fighting. When this bully division of infantry
does go in, you can depend upon it somebody will get hurt.

All the regiments are quartered in elegant little pup-tents, as they
call them. These tents are handsomely sheltered with evergreens and
various bushes, presenting a picturesque appearance. The Lancaster,
Chillicothe, and Cincinnati boys are vieing with each other as to who
shall have the neatest camp.

A chicken-fight is to take place this evening between two game-cocks.
One is owned by the fat boy of the 35th, the other by the new
grocery-keeper of this brigade--he with the yellow vest and
spectacles. Spectacles can whip fat boy, sure, so I must hurry up to
see it done. We are striving our best to break up this love of cruel
sports, but fear our efforts will be fruitless.

The weather is delightful; garden truck is progressing finely; the
wheat and oat-fields are waving delightfully, while the corn is
becoming like a man drinking whisky--_elevated_. With the above horrid
joke I close.

Yours, dismally, till I see my love,

                                        Alf.


REMINISCENCE OF CAMP LIFE IN VIRGINIA, IN 1861.

                              Camp Beverly, Va., _July 31, 1861_.

A soldier's life becomes irksome when he is encamped for any great
length of time at any one point. A change of scenery, or the busy
bustle of a march, wearisome though it be, makes the hours pass
lightly. This is our eighth day at this place, and beautiful though
the surroundings are, yet they begin to weary the eye. The boys want
action, and if no prospect of a fight is here, they wish for still
further progress.

The chief product of this never-ending and infernal mountainous region
seems to be rain and ignorant people. It rains from Monday till
Saturday, and commences fresh on Sunday; and if you put a question of
the most commonplace order, the only answer you are likely to receive
is the vacant stare of those you speak to. The first relief to this
monotony occurred a few days since. Captain Bracken, editor of the
Indianapolis _Sentinel_, who is in command of a splendid cavalry
company, sent me an invitation to accompany him upon a scouting
excursion, as a number of houses in the vicinity needed a little
examination; so, accompanied by his two lieutenants and our gallant
Major, Alex. Christopher, together with the ever-affable Andy Hall,
the scouts, mounted upon as fine horses as could be selected by
Captain Bracken, started jovially on duty. "_Now up the mead, now down
the mead_," and then over hill and dale they sped. Soon the outer
pickets were passed, and we were in the enemy's country, where, 'tis
said, the faster your horse travels the less likelihood there is of
being shot by guerrillas. In the course of the afternoon we visited
several houses, at one of which quite a quantity of contraband stuff
was found, _which was placed in our canteens_.

At dusk we commenced a homeward tramp; and having to pass a house in
which I had previously enjoyed the hospitality of its inmates, I
alighted to refresh myself with a cool drink of water, the balance of
the party going on. I had but just mounted my horse, when he took
fright, and in a moment he was beyond control. Your humble servant
clung with tenacity to the brute, and although I told him to "whoa,"
he wouldn't do it. Now he takes a by-road; away he flies with
lightning speed; 'tis getting dark, and the _fool horse_ is running
further and further from camp. I tried kicking the animal so as to
induce him to believe that it was me that was forcing him to his
utmost speed, but 't was no go. Then, as I came near falling, I
"_affectionately_" threw my arms around his neck, thinking, if life
was spared, what a fine item this runaway would make. In vain I tried
kicks, seesawing, jerks, coaxing, whoaing; in despair, I gave a loose
hold of the reins to the runaway, hoping he would get tired,
endeavoring, however, to keep him in the middle of the road. He jumped
ditches, turned curves, until I began to think I would make a good
circus performer, and eventually hire out to John Robinson, if safely
delivered from this perilous expedition. At last he took me off my
guard: turning abruptly to the left on a by-road, your correspondent
went to the right, heels up in the air for a brief space--in fact, a
balloon ascension; the balloon's burst was the next vivid thing in my
mind, for I remembered scratching in the air, and then an almost
instantaneous collision with mother Earth, alighting upon the right
side of my head, from which the blood gushed in a slight attempt at a
deluge. As luck would have it, some friendly folks came to my rescue,
and bathed my head with camphor; I remounted, and, in a few minutes,
met my companions, who were in search for me. They wet my lips with
some of that stuff in the canteens. On arriving at camp, and sending
for a surgeon, my wounds were dressed. A broken bone in my right hand,
a terrific black eye and disfigured forehead, a sprained leg and
battered side were the result of my excursion. This is the first
letter I have been able to write since.

Last Saturday the whole regiment was in the finest spirits at seeing
among us the kindly face of Cincinnati's universally-beloved citizen,
Larz Anderson, and it did one good to see the hearty shake of hands
our gallant officers and men gave him. He leaves for home to-day,
laden with, no doubt, messages of love to many. God bless and speed
him on his journey.

Captain Burdsall arrived to-day from Cheat Mountain. His command will
remain here a few days, acting as mounted scouts. The Captain received
a serious kick from his horse a week or two ago, and has been confined
to his bed ever since. This company has been a very valuable auxiliary
to the brigade, both at Cheat River Mountain and this place. We are
sorry to hear of their intended return to Cincinnati in a few weeks.

The battle-field of Rich Mountain is about four miles from this place,
and to-day I met with an old veteran, upon whose ground they fought.
He is a thorough Union man, and was a prisoner in the hands of the
Secession party. The rebels, to spite the old veteran, dug a trench
around his house, for burying their dead, only eighteen inches below
the surface. They also ruined his well by throwing in decayed
horse-flesh--in fact, ruined his old homestead, by cutting down his
fruit-trees, and various other specimens of Vandalism.

An incident occurred during the preparation for that battle worth
mentioning. Mr. ----, an old man of this town, a Representative in the
Legislature, one who was elected as a Union candidate, and then basely
betrayed his constituents, and afterward was re-elected as a
Secessionist--this man, on the eve of the battle, having partaken
freely of liquor, heard of the advance of our army, and, mounting his
horse, rode hastily to the rebel camp, to inform them of the intended
attack. He passed the outer pickets, but was halted by a full company
of Georgians, who, hearing of the advance of our men, had been thrown
out to reconnoiter. He, much frightened, supposing he was mistaken and
was in the Union men's camp, begged them not to shoot, exclaiming, "_I
am a Union man._" Scarce had the lying words passed his lips when a
dozen balls pierced his body.

An announcement, made last night, that the rebels were advancing upon
this post, put the boys in excellent humor. Every piece was put in
order, and preparations made for a warm reception of the rebel gentry.
Extra pickets were sent out by Colonel Bosley, who has entire command
of this post, Captain Wilmington being field-officer of the day. The
_guests_, however, did not arrive, thus greatly disappointing the
boys, who had a magnificent _banquet_ in store for them. The bill of
fare consisted of

    Bullet Soup--with Gunpowder Sauce;
      Bayonets--drawn from Scabbards;
        Minié Muskets--nicely _ranged_;
  Twelve Six-pound Dumplings--U. S. on the margin;
        2,600 Harper's Ferry Clickers;

besides numerous little delicacies in the way of Colt's "Revolving
Pudding-hitters" and "_Derangers_," lightning-powder, Bowies,
slashers, etc.

But as they refused the banquet, why, we will keep it, for the time
being, ready for them in case of an intended _surprise party_.

A serenade in camp is sweet music, indeed. Last night the Guthrie
Serenading Club, consisting of E. P. Perkins, W. B. Sheridan, Charlie
Foster, Captain Wilmington, Zeke Tatem, W. Craven, and S. B. Rice,
gave the denizens of this town and camp a taste of their quality. The
hills resounded with sweet sounds.

  "Music soft, music sweet, lingers on the ear."

Captain Pic Russell had an acquisition to his company a few evenings
since--in fact, a Secession emblem: a snake seven feet long--a regular
"black sarpent"--quietly coiled himself in the Captain's blanket. He
was, as soon as discovered, put to death. This region, of country
abounds in serpents, the rattlesnake being a prolific article.

I must close, as the mail is about to start.

                              Yours,
                                        Alf.




CHAPTER VIII.

     Fun in the 123d Ohio -- A Thrilling Incident of the War --
     General Kelley -- Vote under Strange Circumstances -- Die,
     but never Surrender.


FUN IN THE 123d OHIO.

One of the boys furnished me with a copy of his experiences of camp,
entitled "_Ye Chronicles of ye One Hundred and Twenty-third
Regiment._"

1st. Man that is born of woman, and enlisteth as a soldier in the One
Hundred and Twenty-third Ohio, is few of days and short of rations.

2d. He cometh forth at reveille, is present also at retreat, yea, even
at tattoo, and retireth, apparently, at taps.

3d. He draweth his rations from the commissary, and devoureth the
same. He striketh his teeth against much hard tack, and is satisfied.
He filleth his canteen with apple-jack, and clappeth the mouth thereof
upon the bung of a whisky-barrel, and after a little while goeth away,
rejoicing in his strategy.

4th. Much soldiering has made him sharp; yea, even the seat of his
breeches is in danger of being cut through.

5th. He covenanteth with the credulous farmer for many turkeys and
chickens; also, at the same time, for much milk and honey, to be paid
for promptly at the end of each ten days; and lo! his regiment moveth
on the ninth day to another post.

6th. His tent is filled with potatoes, cabbage, turnips, krout, and
other delicate morsels of a delicious taste, which abound not in the
Commissary Department.

7th. And many other things not in the "returns," and which never will
return; yet, of a truth, it must be said of the soldier of the One
Hundred and Twenty-third, that he taketh nothing that he can not
reach.

8th. He fireth his Austrian rifle at midnight, and the whole camp is
aroused and formed in line of battle, when lo! his mess come bearing
in a nice porker, which he solemnly declareth so resembled a Secesh
that he was compelled to pull trigger.

9th. He giveth the provost-marshal much trouble, often capturing his
guard, and possesseth himself of the city.

10th. At such times "lager" and pretzels flow like milk and honey from
his generous hand. He giveth without stint to his own comrades; yea,
and withholdeth not from the One Hundred and Sixteenth Ohio Volunteer
Infantry, or from the lean, lank, expectant Hoosier of the
Eighty-seventh Indiana.

11th. He stretcheth forth his hand to deliver his fellow-soldiers of
the One Hundred and Sixteenth from the power of the enemy; yea,
starteth at early dawn from Petersburg, even on a "double-quick" doth
he go, and toileth on through much heat, suffering, privation, and
much "vexation of spirit," until they are delivered. Verily I say unto
you, after that he suffereth for want of tents and camp-kettles. Yea,
on the hights of Moorfield his voice may be heard proclaiming loudly
for "hard tack and coffee," yet he murmureth not.

12th. But the grunt of a pig or the crowing of a cock awakeneth him
from, the soundest sleep, and he goeth forth until halted by the
guard, when he instantly clappeth his hands upon his "bread-basket,"
and the guard, in commiseration, alloweth him to pass to the rear.

13th. No sooner hath he passed the sentry's beat than he striketh a
"bee-line" for the nearest hen-roost, and, seizing a pair of plump
pullets, returneth, soliloquizing: "The noise of a goose saved Rome;
how much more the flesh of chickens preserveth the soldier!"

14th. He even playeth at eucher with the parson, to see whether or not
there shall be preaching in camp on the following Sabbath; and by
dexterously drawing from the bottom a Jack, goeth away rejoicing that
the service is postponed.

15th. And many other things doeth he; and lo! are they not recorded in
the "morning reports" of Company B? Yea, verily.


A THRILLING INCIDENT OF THE WAR.

Captain Theodore Rogers, son of the Rev. E. P. Rogers, of New York
City, formerly of Albany, N. Y., enlisted in May, 1861. After a varied
experience he returned home, and, on the 7th of January, 1862, was
married, in Cazenovia, New York, to the adopted daughter of H. Ten
Eyck, Esq., a young lady who, we may be allowed at least to say, was
every way worthy of the hand of the gallant soldier. The bridal days
were passed in the camp, where a few weeks of happiness were afforded
them.

Six months roll away, and the battle at Gaines's Mills opens. Mr.
Rogers, having left home as first lieutenant, was, on account of his
superior qualities as a soldier and as a man, promoted to the office
of captain. His indefatigable efforts to discharge the duties of his
position seriously impaired his health, and, previous to the battle
referred to, he was lying sick in his tent. But the booming of the
enemy's cannon roused the spirit of the soldier, and he forgot himself
in his desire to win a victory for his country.

An account of the last scene is given by an officer in the rebel army,
and, coming from such a source, its accuracy can not be questioned.
Colonel McRae, while passing through Nassau, N. P., on his way to
England, sought an introduction to a lady, who, he was informed, was
from Albany. Finding that she knew Dr. Rogers and his family, she
writes that his whole face lighted up, and he said: "O, I am so glad!
I have been longing for months to see some one who knew the family of
the brave young soldier who fell before my eyes."

He then said: "It was just at evening on Friday, June 27, at the
battle of Gaines's Mills, as your army was falling back, I was struck
with the appearance of a young man, the captain of a company, who was
rushing forward at the head of his men, encouraging them, and leading
them on, perfectly regardless of his own life or safety. His gallantry
and bravery attracted our notice, and I felt so sure that he must
fall, and so regretted the sacrifice of his life, that I tried hard
to take him prisoner. But all my efforts were vain; and when at last I
saw him fall, I gave orders at once that he should be carried from the
field. It was the last of the fight, and in a few moments General
Garland (also of the Confederate army) and I went in search of him,
and found him under the tree whither I had ordered him to be carried."

Here the voice of the Colonel trembled so that he was hardly able to
proceed. Recovering himself, he added: "I took from his pocket his
watch, some money, and three letters--one from his wife, another from
his father, and the third from his mother. As General Garland (who has
since been killed) and I read the letters, standing at the side of the
youthful husband and son, we cried like children--tears of grief and
regret for the brave and honored soldier, and at the thought of those
who would mourn him at home."

The Colonel said: "Tell his wife and father and mother that, though he
was an enemy of whom we say it, he died the bravest and most gallant
man that ever fell on the battle-field--encouraging and leading his
men on, going before them to set the example. Tell them, also, that we
saw him laid tenderly in his grave, (by himself,) and that, when this
hateful war is over, I can take his wife to the very spot where her
husband lies."

Colonel McRae was very anxious to know whether the letters and watch
had been received by his wife, as he said that he gave them into the
hands of Colonel T----, of the 23d Regiment, who had promised to send
them by a flag of truce.

From all that could be gathered, the lamented youth never spoke a word
after receiving his death-wound.

While in the Army of Virginia I obtained the following facts in regard
to the shooting of Colonel (now General) Kelley. A Staunton (Virginia)
paper contained the following boastful article:

"Colonel Kelley, the commandant of a portion of Lincoln's forces at
Philippa, was shot by Archey McClintic, of the Bath Cavalry, Captain
Richards. Leroy and Foxall Dangerfield, (brothers,) and Archey
McClintic, soldiers of the Bath Cavalry, were at the bridge, when a
horse belonging to their company dashed through the bridge without its
rider, whereupon these soldiers attempted to cross the bridge for the
purpose of seeing what had been the fate of the owner of the riderless
horse, when they were met by a portion of the enemy, led on by Colonel
Kelley. As they met, Archey McClintic shot Colonel Kelley with a
pistol. Seeing that they would be overcome by the number of the enemy,
this gallant trio wheeled and retreated through the bridge. As they
were retreating, they heard the enemy exclaim, 'Shoot the d--d rascal
on the white horse!' meaning McClintic, who had shot Colonel Kelley.
They fired, and broke the leg of Leroy P. Dangerfield. As McClintic
was able to unhorse the colonel of a regiment with an old pistol, we
hope that no soldier will disdain to use the old-fashioned pistol.
They are as good as any, if in the proper hands."

From the same paper I cut the following:

"We have been informed that the gallant men who were under the command
of Captain J. B. Moomau, in the precipitate retreat from Philippa,
positively refused, after going a mile or two, to retreat any further.
They were told that, if they would not retreat any further, they had
better send a flag of truce to the enemy and surrender. It was
proposed to decide the matter by a vote, when the men _unanimously_
voted that they would _rather die than surrender_. The word
'surrender' does not belong to the vocabulary of the brave men of our
mountains. They are as heroic as Spartans. They are willing to _die_,
if needs be; but surrender, _never!_ Though the enemy were constantly
firing Minié muskets at them, they were not at all alarmed, and, being
true republicans, they were resolved to take the vote of the men
before they would agree to send a flag of truce, or think for a moment
of surrendering. Who ever heard of a vote being taken under such
circumstances? They were flying before the superior and overwhelming
force of the enemy, yet they were sufficiently calm and self-composed
to get through with the republican formality of taking the vote of the
company. The men then under the command of Captain Moomau, of
Pendleton, were his own company and some fifty belonging to the
company of Captain Hull, of Highland, who had become separated from
the other portion of their own company. Such soldiers will never be
conquered--they may be killed, but they will never surrender."

A few days afterward these "never-surrender" Spartan chaps were
brought into camp, the most hang-dog looking set of villains I ever
met.




CHAPTER IX.

     Our Hospitals -- No Hope -- A Short and Simple Story -- A
     Soldier's Pride -- The Last Letter -- Soldierly Sympathy --
     The Hospitals at Gallatin, and their Ministering Angels.


OUR HOSPITALS.

I have visited many of the hospitals, both on the field and those
located in cities where every convenience obtainable for money was
profuse. Those in Nashville, Gallatin, and Louisville were, at all
times, in the most perfect order. Still, in the field, and often in
cities, cut off as Nashville and Murfreesboro sometimes are, the men
suffer from the want of many little things. Miss LOUISA ALLCOTT, of
Boston, who has been kindly administering to the wants of the sick and
wounded in the hospitals, says:

One evening I found a lately-emptied bed occupied by a large, fair
man, with a fine face, and the serenest eyes I ever met. One of the
earlier comers had often spoken of a friend who had remained behind,
that those apparently worse wounded than himself might reach a shelter
first. It seemed a David and Jonathan sort of friendship. The man
fretted for his mate, and was never tired of praising John, his
courage, sobriety, self-denial, and unfailing kindliness of
heart--always winding up with--"He's an out-and-out fine feller,
ma'am; you see if he aint." I had some curiosity to behold this piece
of excellence, and, when he came, watched him for a night or two
before I made friends with him; for, to tell the truth, I was afraid
of the stately-looking man, whose bed had to be lengthened to
accommodate his commanding stature--who seldom spoke, uttered no
complaint, asked no sympathy, but tranquilly observed all that went on
about him; and, as he lay high upon his pillows, no picture of dying
statesman or warrior was ever fuller of real dignity than this
Virginia blacksmith.


NO HOPE.

A most attractive face he had, framed in brown hair and beard,
comely-featured and full of vigor, as yet unsubdued by pain,
thoughtful, and often beautifully mild, while watching the afflictions
of others, as if entirely forgetful of his own. His mouth was firm and
grave, with plenty of will and courage in its lines, but a smile could
make it as sweet as any woman's; and his eyes were child's eyes,
looking one fairly in the face, with a clear, straightforward glance,
which promised well for such as placed their faith in him. He seemed
to cling to life as if it were rich in duties and delights, and he had
learned the secret of content. The only time I saw his composure
disturbed was when my surgeon brought another to examine John, who
scrutinized their faces with an anxious look, asking of the elder: "Do
you think I shall pull through, sir?" "I hope so, my man." And, as the
two passed on, John's eyes followed them with an intentness which
would have won a clearer answer from them had they seen it. A
momentary shadow flitted over his face; then came the smile of
serenity, as if, in that brief eclipse, he had acknowledged the
existence of some hard futurity, and, asking nothing, yet hoping all
things, left the issue in God's hand, with that submission which is
true piety.

At night, as I went my rounds with the surgeon, I happened to ask
which man in the room probably suffered the most, and, to my great
surprise, he glanced at John.

"Every breath he draws is like a stab; for the ball pierced the left
lung, broke a rib, and did no end of damage here and there; so the
poor lad can find neither forgetfulness nor ease, because he must lie
on his wounded back or suffocate. It will be a hard struggle, and a
long one, for he possesses great vitality; but even his temperate life
can't save him. I wish it could."

"You don't mean he must die, Doctor?"

"Bless you, there is not the slightest hope for him, and you'd better
tell him so before long--women have a way of doing such things
comfortably; so I leave it to you. He won't last more than a day or
two at furthest."

I could have sat down on the spot and cried heartily, if I had not
learned the propriety of bottling up one's tears for leisure moments.
Such an end seemed very hard for such a man, when half a dozen
worn-out, worthless bodies round him were gathering up the remnants of
wasted lives, to linger on for years, perhaps burdens to others,
daily reproaches to themselves. The army needed men like John,
earnest, brave, and faithful, fighting for liberty and justice, with
both heart and hand--a true soldier of the Lord. I could not give him
up so soon, or think with any patience of so excellent a nature robbed
of its fulfillment, and blundered into eternity by the rashness or
stupidity of those at whose hands so many lives may be required. It
was an easy thing for Dr. P---- to say, "Tell him he must die," but a
cruelly hard thing to do, and by no means as "comfortable" as he
politely suggested. I had not the heart to do it then, and privately
indulged the hope that some change for the better might take place, in
spite of gloomy prophesies, so rendering my task unnecessary.


A SHORT AND SIMPLE STORY.

After that night, an hour of each evening that remained to him was
devoted to his ease or pleasure. He could not talk much, for breath
was precious, and he spoke in whispers; but from occasional
conversations I gleaned scraps of private history, which only added to
the affection and respect I felt for him. Once he asked me to write a
letter, and, as I settled with pen and paper, I said, with an
irrepressible glimmer of female curiosity, "Shall it be addressed to
mother or wife, John?"

"Neither, ma'am: I've got no wife, and will write to mother, myself,
when I get better. Did you think I was married because of this?" he
asked, touching a plain gold ring he wore, and often turned
thoughtfully on his finger when he lay alone.

"Partly that, but more from a settled sort of look you have--a look
young men seldom get until they marry."

"I don't know that; but I'm not so very young, ma'am--thirty in May,
and have been what you might call settled these ten years, for
mother's a widow. I'm the oldest child she has, and it wouldn't do for
me to marry till Lizzie has a home of her own, and Laurie has learned
his trade; for we're not rich, and I must be father to the children,
and husband to the dear old woman, if I can."

"No doubt you are both, John; yet how came you to go to the war, if
you felt so? Wasn't enlisting as bad as marrying?"

"No, ma'am, not as I see it; for one is helping my neighbor, the other
pleasing myself. I went because I couldn't help it. I didn't want the
glory or the pay; I wanted the right thing done, and the people said
the men who were in earnest ought to fight. I was in earnest, the Lord
knows; but I held off as long as I could, not knowing what was my
duty. Mother saw the case, gave me her ring to keep me steady, and
said 'Go;' so I went."

A short story, and a simple one; but the man and the mother were
portrayed better than pages of fine writing could have done it.


A SOLDIER'S PRIDE.

"Do you ever regret that you came, when you lie here suffering so
much?"

"Never, ma'am. I haven't helped a great deal, but I've shown I was
willing to give my life, and perhaps I've got to; but I don't blame
any body, and if it was to do over again, I'd do it. I'm a little
sorry I wasn't wounded in front. It looks cowardly to be hit in the
back; but I obeyed orders, and it don't matter much in the end, I
know."

Poor John! it did not matter now, except that a shot in front might
have spared the long agony in store for him. He seemed to read the
thought that troubled me, as he spoke so hopefully when there was no
hope, for he suddenly added:

"This is my first battle--do they think it's going to be my last?"

"I'm afraid they do, John."

It was the hardest question I had ever been called upon to answer;
doubly hard with those clear eyes fixed upon mine, forcing a truthful
answer by their own truth. He seemed a little startled at first,
pondered over the fateful fact a moment, then shook his head, with a
glance at the broad chest and muscular limbs stretched out before him.

"I'm not afraid; but it is difficult to believe all at once. I'm so
strong, it does not seem possible for such a little wound to kill me."


THE LAST LETTER.

"Shall I write to your mother now?" I asked, thinking that these
sudden tidings might change all plans and purposes; but they did not:
for the man received the order of the Divine Commander to march with
the same unquestioning obedience with which the soldier had received
that of the human one, doubtless remembering that the first led him to
life, the last to death.

"No, ma'am--to Laurie, just the same; he'll break it to her best, and
I'll add a line to her, myself, when you get done."

So I wrote the letter, which he dictated, finding it better than any I
had sent, for, though here and there a little ungrammatical or
inelegant, each sentence came to me briefly worded, but most
expressive, full of excellent counsel to the boy, tenderly bequeathing
"mother and Lizzie" to his care, and bidding him good-by in words the
sadder for their simplicity. He added a few lines, with steady hand,
and, as I sealed it, said, with a patient sort of sigh, "I hope the
answer will come in time for me to see it." Then, turning away his
face, he laid the flowers against his lips, as if to hide some quiver
of emotion at the thought of such a sudden sundering of all the dear
home ties.

Those things had happened two days before. Now John was dying, and the
letter had not come. I had been summoned to many death-beds in my
life, but to none that made my heart ache as it did then, since my
mother called me to watch the departure of a spirit akin to this, in
its gentleness and patient strength. As I went in, John stretched out
both his hands.

"I knew you'd come! I guess I'm moving on, ma'am."

He was, and so rapidly that, even while he spoke, over his face I saw
the gray veil falling that no human hand can lift. I sat down by him,
wiped the drops from his forehead, stirred the air about him with the
slow wave of a fan, and waited to help him die. He stood in sore need
of help, and I could do so little; for, as the doctor had foretold,
the strong body rebelled against death, and fought every inch of the
way, forcing him to draw each breath with a spasm, and clench his
hands with an imploring look, as if he asked, "How long must I endure
this, and be still?" For hours he suffered, without a moment's respite
or a moment's murmuring. His limbs grew cold, his face damp, his lips
white, and again and again he tore the covering off his breast, as if
the lightest weight added to his agony; yet, through it all, his eyes
never lost their perfect serenity, and the man's soul seemed to sit
therein, undaunted by the ills that vexed his flesh.


SOLDIERLY SYMPATHY.

One by one the men awoke, and round the room appeared a circle of pale
faces and watchful eyes, full of awe and pity; for, though a stranger,
John was beloved by all. Each man there had wondered at his patience,
respected his piety, admired his fortitude, and now lamented his hard
death; for the influence of an upright nature had made itself deeply
felt, even in one little week. Presently, the Jonathan who so loved
this comely David came creeping from his bed for a last look and word.
The kind soul was full of trouble, as the choke in his voice, the
grasp of his hand betrayed; but there were no tears, and the farewell
of the friends was the more touching for its brevity.

"Old boy, how are you?" faltered the one.

"Most through, thank heaven!" whispered the other.

"Can I say or do any thing for you, anywheres?"

"Take my things home, and tell them that I did my best."

"I will! I will!"

"Good-by, Ned."

"Good-by, John; good-by!"

They kissed each other tenderly as women, and so parted; for poor Ned
could not stay to see his comrade die. For a little while there was no
sound in the room but the drip of water from a pump or two, and John's
distressful gasps, as he slowly breathed his life away. I thought him
nearly gone, and had laid down the fan, believing its help no longer
needed, when suddenly he rose up in his bed, and cried out, with a
bitter cry, that broke the silence, sharply startling every one with
its agonized appeal, "For God's sake, give, me air!"

It was the only cry pain or death had wrung from him, the only boon he
had asked, and none of us could grant it, for all the airs that blow
were useless now. Dan flung up the window; the first red streak of
dawn was warming the gray east, a herald of the coming sun. John saw
it, and, with the love of light which lingers in us to the end, seemed
to read in it a sign of hope, of help, for over his whole face broke
that mysterious expression, brighter than any smile, which often comes
to eyes that look their last. He laid himself down gently, and
stretching out his strong right arm, as if to grasp and bring the
blessed air to his lips in fuller flow, lapsed into a merciful
unconsciousness, which assured us that for him suffering was forever
past.

As we stood looking at him, the ward-master handed me a letter, saying
it had been forgotten the night before. It was John's letter, come
just an hour too late to gladden the eyes that had looked and longed
for it so eagerly--yet he had it; for after I had cut some brown locks
for his mother, and taken off the ring to send her, telling how well
the talisman had done its work, I kissed this good son for her sake,
and laid the letter in his hand, still folded as when I drew my own
away.


On my visit to the hospital at Gallatin, I was called to the bedside
of a dying boy, who belonged in Columbus, Ohio. There I met Dr. W. P.
Eltsun, Dr. Armington, Dr. Landis, and other surgeons, all working
faithfully for the suffering men; but Death had marked this boy for
his own. I took his almost pulseless hand in mine, wiped the cold
sweat from his brow, and, as I did so, he murmured, in a soft tone--a
tone of sweet sadness--and with a half vacant stare, "Mother, is that
you? O, how long I've waited for your coming! Tell sister I'm better
now. Good-by, Charlie. Halt! who goes there?" and then a sudden start
seemed to bring him to a realization of his situation, and he quietly
gazed at me for a moment, called me by name, and said, "Alf, will you
write a letter for me to-morrow?" This I promised, should he be able
to dictate to me what I should write. In a few minutes he again called
the sweet name of "Mother! Mother!" and with the words "good-by" upon
his lips, and a smile of joy beaming on his face, he fell into that
sleep that knows no waking.

There were three ministering angels, who had left all the luxuries of
a home, attending in this hospital. They had volunteered as nurses,
and had come from Indianapolis, to render all the aid they could to
our country's noble defenders. Indiana should remember the names of
Miss Bates, Miss Cathcart, and Mrs. Ketchum.

[Illustration: Sports in camp. See page 99.]


THE ENSIGN-BEARER.

Written Expressly for Mr. Alf. BURNETT, by Miss Cora M. EAGER.

  Never mind me, Uncle Jared, never mind my bleeding breast;
  They are charging in the valley, and you're needed with the rest;
  All the day through, from its dawning till you saw your kinsman fall,
  You have answered fresh and fearless to our brave commander's call,
  And I would not rob my country of your gallant aid to-night,
  Though your presence and your pity stay my spirit in its flight.

  All along that quivering column, see the death-steeds trampling down
  Men whose deeds this day are worthy of a kingdom and a crown.
  Prithee, hasten, Uncle Jared--what's the bullet in my breast
  To that murderous storm of fire, raining tortures on the rest?
  See, the bayonets flash and falter--look I the foe begins to win!
  See, see our faltering comrades! God! how the ranks are closing in!

  Hark! there's muttering in the distance, and a thundering in the air,
  Like the snorting of a lion just emerging from his lair;
  There's a cloud of something yonder, fast unrolling like a scroll;
  Quick, quick! if it be succor that can save the cause a soul!
  Look! a thousand thirsty bayonets are flashing down the vale,
  And a thousand hungry riders dashing onward like a gale.

  Raise me higher, Uncle Jared; place the ensign in my hand;
  I am strong enough to wave it, while you cheer that flying band.
  Louder! louder! shout for Freedom, with prolonged and vigorous breath;
  Shout for Liberty, and Union, and--the victory over death!
  See! they catch the stirring numbers, and they swell them to the breeze,
  Cap, and plume, and starry banner, waving proudly through the trees.

  Mark! our fainting comrades rally--mark! that drooping column rise;
  I can almost see the fire newly kindled in their eyes.
  Fresh for conflict, nerved to conquer, see them charging on the foe,
  Face to face, with deadly meaning, shot, and shell and trusty blow;
  See the thinned ranks wildly breaking; see them scatter toward the sun!
  I can die now, Uncle Jared, for the glorious day is won.

  But there's something, something pressing with a numbness on my heart,
  And my lips, with mortal dumbness, fail the burden to impart.
  O, I tell you, Uncle Jared, there is something, back of all,
  That a soldier can not part with when he heeds his country's call.
  Ask the mother what, in dying, sends the yearning spirit back
  Over life's broken marches, where she's pointed out the track?

  Ask the dear ones gathered nightly round the shining household hearth,
  What to them is brighter, better than the choicest things of earth?
  Ask that dearer one, whose loving, like a ceaseless vestal flame,
  Sets my very soul a-glowing at the mention of her name;
  Ask her why the loved, in dying, feels her spirit linked with his
  In a union death but strengthens? she will tell you what it is.

  And there's something, Uncle Jared, you may tell her, if you will,
  That the precious flag she gave me I have kept unsullied still;
  And--this touch of pride forgive me--where Death sought our gallant host,
  Where our stricken lines were weakest, there it ever waved the most;
  Bear it back, and tell her, fondly, brighter, purer, steadier far,
  'Mid the crimson strife of battle, shone my life's unsetting star!

  But, forbear, dear Uncle Jared, when there's something more to tell,
  And her lips, with rapid blanching, bid you answer how I fell;
  Teach your tongue the trick of slighting, though 'tis faithful to the rest,
  Lest it say her brother's bullet is the bullet in my breast.
  But, if it must be that she learn it, despite your tender care,
  'T will soothe her bleeding heart to know my bayonet pricked the air.

  Life is ebbing, Uncle Jared; my enlistment endeth here;
  Death, the conqueror, has drafted--I can no more volunteer.
  But I hear the roll-call yonder, and I go with willing feet
  Through the shadows to the valley where victorious armies meet.
  Raise the ensign, _Uncle Jared_--let its dear folds o'er me _fall_;
  Strength and Union for my country, and _God's_ banner over _all_.




CHAPTER X.

     Sports in Camp -- Anecdote of the 63d Ohio and Colonel
     Sprague -- Soldier's Dream of Home -- The Wife's Reply.


                              Army of the Cumberland,
                              Camp near Triune, Tenn., _May 12, 1863_.

There are, at all times, sunny sides as well as the dark and
melancholy picture, in camp life. Men whose business is that of
slaughter--men trained to slay and kill, will, amid the greatest
destruction of life, become oblivious to all surrounding scenes of
death and carnage.

I have seen men seated amid hundreds of slain, quietly enjoying a game
of "seven-up," or having _a little draw_. Yet let them once return to
their homes, and enjoy the society and influence of the gentler sex,
and they will soon forget the excitement and vices of camp, and return
to the more useful and ennobling enjoyments of life.

Yesterday a lively time, generally, was had in camp. After the
drilling of the division, a grand cock-fight occurred on the hill.
Some of the boys, who are regular game-fanciers, brought some splendid
chickens, and, as a consequence, a good deal of money changed hands.
The birds fought nobly: three were killed, one of them killing his
opponent the first round, and instantly crowing, much to the amusement
of the Sports. This fighting with gaffs is not a cruel sport, as one
or the other is soon killed.

Snakes are not so prevalent in these parts as they were when we first
came: then it was not uncommon to find a nice little "garter" quietly
ensconced in one's pocket, or in your pantaloon leg, or taking a nap
in one corner of your tent.

A prize-fight occurred in the division a few days ago. A couple of
sons of _Ethiopia_, regular young bucks, feeling their dignity
insulted by various epithets hurled at each other, from loud-mouthing
adjourned to fight it out in the woods--a big crowd following to enjoy
the fun. A ring was soon formed, and at it they went, _a la_ Sayers
and Heenan. Umpires were improvised for the occasion, and
time-keepers, etc., chosen.

The first clash was a _butter_ and a _rebutter_, their heads coming
together, fairly making the _wool_ fly. This was round first.

_Round 2d._--35th Ohio darkey came boldly to the scratch; as he only
weighed sixty-five pounds more than his opponent, and with the
_slight_ difference of one foot six inches higher, he pitched in most
valiantly, and received a splendid hit on the sconce, which made him
feel as if a _flea_ bit him. After full ten minutes skirmishing,
during which time neither struck the other, both retired to the
further _corner_ of the _ring_, until time was called.

_Round 3d._--Minnesota Ethiopian, who had been weakening in the pulse
for some time, came up shaky, and was received with laughter by his
opponent; but the little fellow hit out splendidly, and launched an
eye-shutter at the stalwart form of the 35th darkey. First blood
claimed for the 2d Minnesota.

_Round 4th_ was, per agreement, a rough and tumble affair, as the
spectators were growing impatient; and such "wool-carding" was never
before exhibited. Both fought plucky; but the 2d Minnesota having but
just recovered from a _sick of fitness_, as he said, was about being
overpowered, when the officer of the day interfered; and thus ended
the dispute for the time. Betters _drew_ their money, as the fight was
a _draw_.


BALL IN CAMP.

Last night we had a fancy-dress ball, a _recherché_ affair, a fine
dancing-floor having been laid down in Company I's ground. A
first-rate cotillion band was engaged, and played up lively airs. Your
correspondent had a special invitation to be present, and enjoyed the
party amazingly.

The belles of the evening were Miss Allers, the Widow Place, Miss
Stewart, Miss Austin, and Miss Dodge, all of Minnesota.

Miss Dodge wore an elegant wreath of red clover, mingled with
beech-leaves, and was dressed in red and white--the red being part of
a shirt, kindly furnished by one of the friends of the lady; the white
was expressly manufactured by the Widow Place, dressmaker and milliner
for this regiment.

Miss Stewart is a beautiful creature, of a bronzed hue, from excessive
exposure to the sun. She also wore a wreath of young clover, mingled
with bunches of wheat.

Miss Allers was rather undignified in her actions; her dress we
thought too short at the bottom, and too high in the neck; however,
Miss A. was dressed in Union colors, having an American flag for an
apron, and blue and red dress, with a neat-fitting _waste_--of
materials.

But the one in whom we felt the deepest interest was the Widow. She
had all the grace and elegance of a hippopotamus, and her style was
enchanting. She wore a low-necked dress, with a bouquet of
cauliflowers and garlick in her bosom, a wreath of onion-greens in her
hair, full, red dress, and elaborate hoops, which continually said,
"Don't come a-nigh me." Her bashful behavior was the talk of the
evening, and the gay Widow and your correspondent, when upon the
floor, were the cynosure of all eyes. The dance continued until the
Colonel ordered a _double tattoo_ sounded, so that we could hear it.
Several intruders were put out, for conduct unbecoming gentlemen. The
ball was strictly _private_, as no _commissioned_ officers were
allowed to participate.

However, the officers were truly amused at the fun, and, as women
have, ere this, been dressed in _men's_ clothes, there is no reason
the boot shouldn't, this time, be on the other leg.

Miss Austin's dance of the Schottische, with double-soled military
boots, was excellent. Miss Austin belongs in Louisville, and has long
been known as a female _auctioneer_.

The 9th Ohio band has arrived, and the boys are delighted. This is a
new band, all Cincinnati musicians, and they are truly welcome to the
camp.

Boys want to hear from home as often as possible. It will be well for
the girls to bear this in mind, and write often. Letters of love, we
may say, alphabetically speaking, are X T Z to those who get them.


ANECDOTE OF THE 63d OHIO AND COLONEL SPRAGUE.

The 63d boys love Colonel Sprague; they are not exactly afraid of him,
but many a one would rather be whipped, any day, than take a reprimand
from him. For instance: several nights ago one of the men, instigated
by the love of good eating, and not having the fear of God before his
eyes, attempted to pinch, as they say in the 63d, a can of fruit at
the sutler's tent. But, unluckily for him, the sutler saw him, sprang
out of bed, caught him by the collar and took him prisoner. As soon as
the sutler got hold of him he began to address him in language more
forcible than polite. "You d--d thief, I'll pay you for this; I'll
take you before the Colonel, and, if I had my boots on, I'd take it
out in kicking you."

"I'll tell you what," said the soldier, "I'll wait here till you put
your boots on, and you may kick me as much as you please, if you won't
take me before the Colonel."

The following exquisite poem was handed me by Colonel Durbin Ward, of
the 17th Ohio. I wish I knew the author. They are beautiful lines:


THE SOLDIER'S DREAM OF HOME.

    You have put the children to bed, Alice--
      Maud and Willie and Rose;
    They have lisped their sweet "Our Father,"
      And sunk to their night's repose.

    Did they think of me, dear Alice?
      Did they think of me, and say,
    "God bless him, and God bless him,
      Dear father, far away?"

    O, my very heart grows sick, Alice,
      I long so to behold
    Rose, with her pure white forehead,
      And Maud, with her curls of gold;
    And Willie, so gay and sprightly,
      So merry and full of glee--,
    O, my heart yearns to enfold ye,
      My smiling group of three.

    I can bear the noisy day, Alice--
      The camp life, gay and wild,
    Shuts from my yearning bosom
      The thoughts of wife and child;
    But when the night is round me,
      And under its starry beams
    I gather my cloak about me,
      And dream such long, sad dreams!

    I think of a pale young wife, Alice,
      Who looked up in my face
    When the drum beat at evening
      And called me to my place.
    I think of three sweet birdlings,
      Left in the dear home-nest,
    And my soul is sick with longings,
      That will not be at rest.

    O, when will the war be over, Alice?
      O, when shall I behold
    Rose, with her pure white forehead,
      And Maud, with her curls of gold;
    And Will, so gay and sprightly,
      So merry and full of glee,
    And more than all, the dear wife
      Who bore my babes to me?

    God guard and keep you all, Alice;
      God guard and keep me, too,
    For if only one were missing,
      What would the others do?
    O, when will the war be over,
      And when shall I behold
    Those whom I love so dearly,
      Safe in the dear home-fold?

       *       *       *       *       *

THE WIFE'S REPLY.

Dedicated to the Author of "The Soldier's Dream of Home."

    You say you dream of us, Willie,
      When fall the shades of night,
    And you wrap your cloak around you
      By the camp-fire's flickering light;
    And you wonder if our little ones
      Have bowed their curly heads,
    And asked a blessing for you,
      Before they sought their beds!

    It was but this very night, Willie,
      That our Willie came to me,
    And looking up into my face,
      As he stood beside my knee,
    He said, "Mamma, I wonder
      When will this war be o'er,
    For O, I long so much to see
      My dear papa once more."

    My heart was full of tears, Willie,
      But I kept them from my eyes,
    And the answer that I made him
      Opened his with sad surprise--?
    "Suppose he should _never_ come, Willie!"
      "But, mamma, I _know_ he will,
    For I pray to Jesus every night
      To spare my father still."

    I clasped him in my arms, Willie,
      I pressed him to my breast;
    His childish faith it shamed me,
      And my spirit's vague unrest;
    And I felt that our Heavenly Father,
      From his throne in the "City of Gold,"
    Would watch you and guard you and bring you
      Safe back to the dear home-fold.

    We think of you every night, Willie;
      We think of you every day;
    Our every prayer wafts to Heaven the name
      Of one who is far away.
    And Rose, with her pure white forehead,
      And Maud, with her curls of gold,
    Are talking in whispers together,
      Of the time when they shall behold

    The father they love so dearly;
      And Willie, with childish glee,
    Is bidding me "not to forget to tell
      Papa to remember me."
    So we think of you every night, Willie
      By the camp-fire's fitful gleams,
    Until the war shall be over,
      Let us mingle still in your dreams.

                                        A. L. Y.




CHAPTER XI.

     The Atrocities of Slavery -- The Beauties of the Peculiar
     Institution -- A few Well-substantiated Facts -- Visit to
     Gallatin, Tennessee.


THE ATROCITIES OF SLAVERY.

A late number of the _Atlantic Monthly_ gives the following in
relation to General Butler and his administration in Louisiana:

Among the many personal anecdotes are the following, which are almost
too horrible to be published, but for the impressive lesson they
convey. One of the incidents was related more briefly by the General
himself, when in New York, in January last. We quote from the writer
in the _Atlantic_.

Just previous to the arrival of General Banks at New Orleans, I was
appointed Deputy Provost-Marshal of the city, and held the office for
some days after he had assumed command. One day, during the last week
of our stay in the South, a young woman of about twenty years called
upon me to complain that her landlord had ordered her out of her
house, because she was unable longer to pay the rent, and she wished
me to authorize her to take possession of one of her father's houses
that had been confiscated, he being a wealthy rebel, then in the
Confederacy, and actively engaged in the rebellion.

The girl was a perfect blonde in complexion; her hair was of a very
pretty light shade of brown, and perfectly straight; her eyes a clear,
honest gray; and her skin as delicate and fair as a child's. Her
manner was modest and ingenuous, and her language indicated much
intelligence.

Considering these circumstances, I think I was justified in wheeling
around in my chair, and indulging in an unequivocal stare of
incredulous amazement, when, in the course of conversation, she
dropped a remark about having been born a slave.

"Do you mean to tell me," said I, "that you have negro blood in your
veins?" And I was conscious of a feeling of embarrassment at asking a
question so apparently preposterous.

"Yes," she replied, and then related the history of her life, which I
shall repeat as briefly as possible:

"My father," she commenced, "is Mr. Cox, formerly a judge of one of
the courts in this city. He was very rich, and owned a great many
houses here. There is one of them over there," she remarked, naively,
pointing to a handsome residence opposite my office in Canal Street.
"My mother was one of his slaves. When I was sufficiently grown, he
placed me at school, at the Mechanics' Institute Seminary, on
Broadway, New York. I remained there until I was about fifteen years
of age, when Mr. Cox came on to New York and took me from the school
to a hotel, where he obliged me to live with him as his mistress; and
to-day, at the age of twenty-one, I am the mother of a boy five years
old, who is my father's son. After remaining some time in New York, he
took me to Cincinnati and other cities at the North, in all of which I
continued to live with him as before. During this sojourn in the Free
States I induced him to give me a deed of manumission; but on our
return to New Orleans he obtained it from me and destroyed it. At this
time I tried to break off the unnatural connection, whereupon he
caused me to be publicly whipped in the streets of the city, and then
obliged me to marry a colored man; and now he has run off, leaving me
without the least provision against want or actual starvation, and I
ask you to give me one of his houses, that I may have a home for
myself and three little children."

Strange and improbable as this story appeared, I remembered, as it
progressed, that I had heard it from Governor Shepley, who, as well as
General Butler, had investigated it, and learned that it was not only
true in every particular, but was perfectly familiar to the citizens
of New Orleans, by whom Judge Cox had been elected to administer
justice.

The clerks of my office, most of whom were old residents of the city,
were well informed in the facts of the case, and attested the truth of
the girl's story.

I was exceedingly perplexed, and knew not what to do in the matter;
but, after some thought, I answered her thus:

"This department has changed rulers, and I know nothing of the policy
of the new commander. If General Butler were still in authority, I
should not hesitate a moment to grant your request; for, even if I
should commit an error of judgment, I am perfectly certain he would
overlook it, and applaud the humane impulse that prompted the act; but
General Banks might be less indulgent, and make very serious trouble
with me for taking a step he would perhaps regard as unwarrantable."

I still hesitated, undecided how to act, when suddenly a happy thought
struck me, and, turning to the girl, I added--

"To-day is Thursday: next Tuesday I leave this city With General
Butler for a land where, thank God! such wrongs as yours can not
exist; and, as General Banks is deeply engrossed in the immediate
business at head-quarters, he will hardly hear of my action before the
ship leaves--so I am going to give you the house."

I am sure the kind-hearted reader will find no fault with me that I
took particular pains to select one of the largest of her father's
houses, (it contained forty rooms,) when she told me that she wanted
to let the apartments as a means of support for herself and her
children.

My only regret in the case was that Mr. Cox had not been considerate
enough to leave a carriage and a pair of bays on my hands, that I
might have had the satisfaction of enabling his daughter to disport
herself about the city in a style corresponding to her importance as a
member of so respectable and wealthy a family.

And this story, that I have just told, reminds me of another, similar
in many respects.

One Sunday morning, late last summer, as I came down-stairs to the
breakfast-room, I was surprised to find a large number of persons
assembled in the library. When I reached the door, a member of the
staff took me by the arm and drew me into the room toward a young and
delicate mulatto girl, who was standing against the opposite wall,
with the meek, patient bearing of her race, so expressive of the
system of oppression to which they have been so long subjected.
Drawing down the border of her dress, my conductor showed me a sight
more revolting than I trust ever again to behold. The poor girl's back
was flayed until the quivering flesh resembled a fresh beefsteak
scorched on a gridiron. With a cold chill creeping through my veins, I
turned away from the sickening spectacle, and, for an explanation of
the affair, scanned the various persons about the room.

In the center of the group, at his writing-table, sat the General. His
head rested on his hand, and he was evidently endeavoring to fix his
attention upon the remarks of a tall, swarthy-looking man who stood
opposite, and who, I soon discovered, was the owner of the girl, and
was attempting a defense of the foul outrage he had committed upon the
unresisting and helpless person of his unfortunate victim, who stood
smarting, but silent, under the dreadful pain inflicted by the brutal
lash.

By the side of the slaveholder stood our Adjutant-General, his face
livid with almost irrepressible rage, and his fists tight-clenched, as
if to violently restrain himself from visiting the guilty wretch with
summary and retributive justice. Disposed about the room, in various
attitudes, but all exhibiting in their countenances the same mingling
of horror and indignation, were other members of the staff--while near
the door stood three or four house-servants, who were witnesses in
the case.

To the charge of having administered the inhuman castigation, Landry
(the owner of the girl) pleaded guilty, but urged, in extenuation,
that the girl had dared to make an effort for that freedom which her
instincts, drawn from the veins of her abuser, had taught her was the
God-given right of all who possess the germ of immortality,--no matter
what the color of the casket in which it is hidden. I say "drawn from
the veins of her abuser," because she declared she was his daughter;
and every one in the room, looking upon the man and woman confronting
each other, confessed that the resemblance justified the assertion.

After the conclusion of all the evidence in the case, the General
continued in the same position as before, and remained for some time
apparently lost in abstraction. I shall never forget the singular
expression on his face. I had been accustomed to see him in a storm of
passion at any instance of oppression or flagrant injustice; but on
this occasion he was too deeply affected to obtain relief in the usual
way. His whole air was one of dejection, almost listlessness; his
indignation too intense, and his anger too stern, to find expression
even in his countenance.

Never have I seen that peculiar look but on three or four occasions
similar to the one I am narrating, when I knew he was pondering upon
the fatal curse that had cast its withering blight upon all around,
until the manhood and humanity were crushed out of the people, and
outrages such as the above were looked upon with complacency, and the
perpetrators treated as respected and worthy citizens, and that he was
realizing the great truth, that, however man might endeavor to guide
this war to the advantage of a favorite idea or a sagacious policy,
the Almighty was directing it surely and steadily for the purification
of our country from this greatest of national sins.

But to return to my story. After sitting in the mood which I have
described at such length, the General again turned to the prisoner,
and said, in a quiet, subdued tone of voice--

"Mr. Landry, I dare not trust myself to decide to-day what punishment
would be meet for your offense, for I am in that state of mind that I
fear I might exceed the strict demands of justice. I shall, therefore,
place you under guard for the present, until I conclude upon your
sentence."

A few days after, a number of influential citizens having represented
to the General that Mr. Landry was not only a "high-toned gentleman,"
but a person of unusual "AMIABILITY" of character, and was,
consequently, entitled to no small degree of leniency, he answered
that, in consideration of the prisoner's "high-toned" character, and
especially of his "amiability," of which he had seen so remarkable a
proof, he had determined to meet their views, and therefore ordered
that Landry give a deed of manumission to the girl, and pay a fine of
five hundred dollars, to be placed in the hands of a trustee for her
benefit.


BEAUTIES OF THE PECULIAR INSTITUTION--A FEW WELL-SUBSTANTIATED FACTS.

A Mr. P----, deceased, of Gallatin, Tenn., for years a slave-trader,
had children both by his wife and her body-servant, a beautiful
mulatto woman--thus making, generally, the additions to his family in
_duplicate_. One of his illegitimate daughters--a beautiful,
hazel-eyed mulatto girl--is now the waiting-maid of his widow. This
bright mulatto girl is married to a slave belonging to a prominent
member of Congress from Tennessee, and has a son, a particularly apt
and intelligent boy, whom the rebel women used to send around the
camps, head-quarters, and street corners, to obtain the latest news,
and report the same to them. Although but eight years old, he was too
shrewd to remain quietly a slave. When the daughter of a Federal
officer opened a little school, to teach a few contrabands, he came,
and learned very rapidly. But his intellectual growth was suddenly
stopped by the interference of his _grand_mother, who followed him to
the school one day, and dragged him from the room in a perfect rage,
threatening to kill him if he ever dared enter a _free_-school again,
at the same time declaring to him that "he was not President Lincoln
yet."

Another instance: The wealthy and prominent Colonel G----, of
Gallatin, Tenn., a very _respectable_ and _high-toned_ gentleman, who
is reputed a _kind-hearted_ and benevolent man, _remarkably lenient_
toward his slaves, whose praise is in the mouths of our Northern
soldiers for his kind hospitalities, finding that his slaves, in view
of the coming difficulties, did not increase fast enough for profit,
called them all together on the 1st of January, 1862, and said to
them: "Now, wenches, mind, every one of you that aint 'big' in three
or four months, I intend to sell to the slave-trader." He afterward
chuckled over it, adding that it "brought them to terms." Comment
needless.

In the fall of 1861, in Piketon, Ky., at the headwaters of the Big
Sandy, were two families--one known as the Slone family, the other as
the Johnson family. The slaves of the former were all liberated about
seventeen years before, by a will, stipulating that they should remain
with his wife and work the plantation while she lived. Mrs. Slone died
about two years after her husband, and not only emancipated these
slaves, according to the last will and testament of her deceased
husband, but, as they had taken more care of the old lady in her
declining years than her sons, she thought it but equitable and right
to disinherit the sons and leave the remnant of a once large estate,
reduced to $9,000, to the slaves. But the gloating avarice of her
gambling sons, backed by a vile public sentiment, prompted these
unnatural sons to attempt to break the wills of their father and
mother. After litigating the case about twelve years, and having been
defeated in the highest courts in Kentucky, they went back and set up
a claim of $2,000 against their father's estate, when these despoiled
slaves had to deposit the last of their estate as security, having
been for more than twelve years thus harassed and perplexed by
vexatious lawsuits. When the Union army under General Nelson came into
that country, and had that trumpeted battle at Ivy Mountain, and our
troops reached Prestonburg, twenty-five miles from Piketon, these
hunted and plundered ones concluded that _now_ was the time for them
to escape to the "promised land." They gathered together their little
_all_, cut fifty or sixty saw-logs, made a raft, loaded their worldly
goods on it, and floated down the river. When they reached
Prestonburg, General Nelson had them arrested, cut their raft to
pieces, and sent them back to Piketon. Afterward, when our troops,
under the intrepid Garfield, moved up the river, and made their
head-quarters at Piketon, these tormented and persecuted ones were
told that now they might avail themselves of the Government boats to
go down the river and leave the land of their tormentors.

The Johnson family slaves were liberated, at the death of their owner,
by a will, the writer and executor of which had run off into the rebel
army, carrying it with him. A distant relative of Mr. Johnson, a
worthless, shiftless, ignorant fellow, moved upon the plantation, and
claimed not only the property, but the slaves. "When our troops were
about leaving Piketon, the most intelligent of the Slone family asked
of Captain H----, A. A. Q. M., the privilege of using a push-boat to
transport the family down the river. Consent was given them, and, the
next morning, the _two_ families gathered together, the old and young,
men and women and children, numbering fifty-nine souls, and started
down the river. Colonel C----, commanding the post, had them arrested,
and ordered them back. One of his own officers represented to him that
these people had an order for the boat from General Garfield, and,
becoming alarmed, he let them go upon their way. Soon, however, the
biped hounds were on their track, in hot pursuit. Two slaves, married
into these families, had escaped and followed this boat-load. Although
their villainous masters had fought in the rebel army, they were
furnished with passes to pursue their fleeing slaves, under the
protection of the United States arms. These pursuers, weary and
exhausted, stopped at a slave-trader's above Paintsville, where a
large bend in the river enabled them to gain several miles by a cross
cut, took horses, and arrived at foot of Buffalo Shoals just as the
boat-load of fifty-nine frightened souls were going over it. They at
once leveled their rifles, and ordered the boat to lie-to, supposing
their slaves were aboard. They did so, and occupied a small vacant hut
on the bank of the river, awaiting a Government boat that would be
down on the following morning. Early the next morning, (Sunday,) two
lewd fellows of the baser sort, pursuing them in a skiff, landed at
the place of rendezvous, and were about to rush into the cabin, when
the leader of the negroes stopped them, saying:

"Porter and Radcliff, _you can't enter here_; we have none of your
slaves."

But the boldest of these desperadoes, tiger-like, crouched on his
hands and knees, and got in the rear of the cabin. Then, suddenly
rushing upon the old man, said, "Damn you, I'll shoot you any way,"
and fired, the ball lodging in the abdomen. He continued to fire,
indiscriminately, into the group of women and children, hitting one
girl in the knee, and a younger child on the side of the head. Then
these cowardly miscreants rushed away, but not until a ball from the
rifle of one of these freedmen took effect in the thigh of Radcliff.
These men seemed to love the negro so well that they were not willing
to let even freedmen leave the State, if they have but the least taint
of African blood in their veins; and now they stand as sentinels
around the tottering bastile, lest some of the victims escape.

Another instance: In Hospital No. 2, in Gallatin, there is now at work
a girl eighteen years of age, of pure Anglo-Saxon blood. This girl's
reputed mother says, that when her own child was born, it was taken
away from her, and this white child put in its place. She is satisfied
it was the illegitimate child of her master's daughter, which she had
_by her own father_.

In September, 1862, at Stevenson, Alabama, in collecting contrabands
to work on the fortifications, we found a _white man_, sixty-three
years old, who had all his life been compelled to herd with negroes.
He had been forced to live with four different black women as his
wives, by whom he had twenty-eight children. Colonel Straight, of the
51st Indiana Regiment, saw one of the old man's daughters, and said
she was as white and had as beautiful blue eyes as any girl he ever
saw in his own State. His was the same sad story--that he was an
illegitimate son of his master's daughter, in Virginia; was taken to
the slave-pen, where, with one hundred and twenty-seven others, he was
raised for the market. We started him to Governor Morton, of Indiana,
as a specimen of the men made chattels, and for which the South was
fighting. He was captured on his way North. This is wickedness,
"naked, but not ashamed."

We copy the following from the Montgomery (Alabama) _Advertiser_:

     One Hundred Dollars Reward--Or Fifty Dollars if arrested in
     the State, will be paid for the arrest and confinement in
     jail, so that I may get him, of my boy Lewis, who left home
     on Sunday, the 14th inst. Lewis is about five feet, seven
     inches high, _light complexion, nearly white_, spare made,
     well dressed, wore mustache and goatee, quick to reply when
     spoken to, has "traveled," and _may attempt to pass for a
     white person_; he may endeavor to get to Richmond, where his
     mother and family reside.

                                        William Foster.

     Tuskegee, Ala., _June 14, 1863_.


We suppose that this "nearly white" slave, who, it is suspected, will
try to "pass for a white person," is William Foster's grandson, or
perhaps his own offspring. Foster, no doubt, thinks that the negro is
indebted to slavery for his moral and religious training. We advise
the conservative journals to copy the above advertisement, and comment
indignantly on the practice of amalgamation. The occasion will be a
good one; and we assure them that the instances are as plenty as
blackberries in Dixie.

At Athens, Alabama, in the summer of 1862, when that noble, earnest,
and efficient officer, General Turchin, was court-martialed because he
_hurt_ the rebels of that State, General G---- was invited to make his
head-quarters at Dr. Nicklin's, one of the largest slaveholders in
that part of the State, a devoted member of the Methodist Episcopal
Church, and really a highly cultivated and courteous gentleman. One
day he charged the General with being _radical_. The General said,
"No, I'm only a Republican; but I have a most radical commissary on
my staff." The next day the radical commissary was invited to the
house by Mrs. N----, who said she "wanted to see a Yankee who would
not deny being an Abolitionist." While at dinner the Doctor proposed
to investigate the causes of our wide differences. Captain H----
remarked at the same time:

"Would it not be better, while enjoying your hospitalities, to talk
upon subjects of agreement?"

"No," said the Doctor; "we arrive at truth only by comparing notes."

"Then," the Captain said, "I must be a freeman, and talk from my own
platform."

"Certainly," was the answer.

"Then," said the Captain, "you are on trial. You must give a reason
for the hope within you. We charge you with having commenced a wicked
and causeless war. And now give us your reasons for it."

"Well, in the first place, the Abolitionists are fighting against the
Bible, and against God. The Bible, an express revelation from Heaven,
says, 'When these servants, or slaves, are to be procured of the
heathen round about you, of them shall ye buy, and they shall be your
possession forever.' That settles the question of _moral_ right; and
in relation to the political question, you were for excluding us from
the territories, when they were manifestly ours equal with yours.
We had the same right there with our property that you had. Equality
of rights was the cardinal principle of our Government. In your
political action you strike a blow at the very foundation of our
Government--equality of rights."

To which Captain H---- replied: "Though not much of a theologian, I
have, nevertheless, looked into the Levitical law, and found a
paragraph like the following: 'He that stealeth a man, or selleth him,
or if he be found in his hands, shall surely be put to death.' Let us
analyze this 'stealeth a man'--the _foreign_ slave-trader--'and
selleth him'--the American slave-seller, or, 'if he be found in his
hands'--the American slaveholder. If you will show me how any of these
can escape punishment, then I will pursue the Biblical argument. In
regard to the political question, the citizen of Ohio and the citizen
of Alabama are treated just alike. A citizen of Ohio can take his
household goods, merchandise, and cattle into the territories. A
citizen from Alabama has the _same_ right, but he can not take his
slave; nor yet can a citizen of Ohio. Hence, they _have_ equal
rights."

At the close of the discussion the Doctor said, that "his neighbors
were greatly alarmed when the Union army came into the district, for
fear the slaves would leave them; but I said to my slaves, 'If you
prefer to go away and leave me, do so: come and tell me; don't sneak
away at night with your little bundle, but come right up and tell me,
"We want to leave," and I will give you five dollars, and let you go,
with this condition, that you never show your faces around my
plantation.'"

Captain H---- looked as though it were doubtful, but said nothing.
About a week afterward, the Doctor said to the General--

"I want you to take a ride with me over to the plantation. You
Northern men don't know how well our slaves love us. Whenever I go to
see them, they run out to meet me; inquire after my wife and children
with as much interest as _your_ children would inquire after you."

The General said he "would be glad to avail himself of the opportunity
to see the workings of their system," and started off with the Doctor.

On the way down, the Doctor remarked that he "had another reason for
wishing him to go down;" that "there were three cases of
insubordination, and I want to show you _my mode_ of controlling
slaves. When I told your Abolition commissary, Captain H----, the
other day, how I managed my boys, I saw he did not believe one word I
said. Now I want you to see for yourself; then you can convince him."

Arriving at the plantation, sure enough, the slaves came out, and made
special inquiries about his wife and family. The General said that the
saddest sight of all was, that all these women and _children_ gave
promise to increase the number of slaves--girls eleven years old were
among these.

The Doctor called up the culprits and addressed the principal
offender. "Aleck," said he, "unless you submit to the mild punishment
of our plantation discipline, all order and discipline will be lost.
You know my rule. I have told you before, whenever you are not
satisfied, just say so, and I will let you go. What do you say, Aleck,
Bob, and Dick?"

Bowing very low, the darkeys said, "Well, den, massa, gib us de fibe
dollars and we go."

He turned pale, and, being utterly dumfounded, after regaining
himself, and _not giving_ them the money, said, "Be off, then!" He had
too much of the Southern chivalry to back out, and came away a wiser
if not a better man, but said "nary word" about convincing the
Abolition commissary.




CHAPTER XII.

     General Schofield -- Colonel Durbin Ward -- Colonel Connell
     -- Women in Breeches -- Another Incident of the War -- Negro
     Sermon.


                              Triune, Tenn., _April 29, 1863_.

The last letter I wrote you was from the Missouri army. I am so
continually _flying_ around that I have won the cognomen of "the
kite." It is astonishing what a charm there is in camp life; boys that
have been away but a short time feel a craving to once more resume
their duties among their comrades. With me 'tis a great pleasure to
get back to the familiar faces of this splendid division.

Our new commander, General Schofield, is fast winning the devotion of
his troops; his policy in Missouri meeting the cordial approbation of
men and officers here. Leniency is played out; nothing but the most
extreme rigor of military law will bring these traitors to a
realization of the villainous stand they have taken. Nothing but the
driving of every enemy from our lines, as we go, will bring the
misguided citizen to his senses. The men and women, who have been
allowed so many privileges, have all along been acting as spies. A few
days since, a little boy, only eight years of age, was caught going
over to his "uncle Palmer's;" he said his mother wanted him to go
over and get a chicken, as the "sogers" ate all theirs up, and his
mother was sick. The picket was about to let the child pass, on such
an errand as that, and being such a small specimen of humanity. The
lieutenant of the guard questioned the child closely, but could not
glean any information of importance. As the child started off, down
the road, he again called him, and, upon searching, found in the heel
of his little stocking, _sewed in_, a full description of the entire
camp and fortifications. The boy knew nothing of this, but was merely
an instrument in the hands of the parents. As a matter of course the
house was immediately searched, but the whole mystery is solved in the
fact that several of the Secesh _dam-sells_ were quite favorites in
camp.

General Schofield is driving all known sympathizers beyond his lines,
and permitting none but the undoubted Union men to remain.

A few nights since, as I was about retiring beneath the umbrageous
shade of a lovely maple, a voice from above shouted, "Is 'Alf' here?"

"Yes, sir," was the response.

The voice emanated from the epigastrium of a huge fellow-wanderer in
this wilderness, who was mounted upon a fiery steed.

"You are sent for by the commanding officers of the First Brigade, and
I have orders to take you there, _peaceably_, if I can; _forcibly_, if
I must."

As our camp was just getting wrapped in the arms of "Murphy," and not
wishing to disturb them in their slumber, I consented to go. It was
about a mile, over hill, through woods and thicket, to their camp. I
preferred walking; but the gentle persuader on the horse induced me
to "double up," and, after various efforts, I succeeded in mounting. I
told the driver I was a poor rider, and convinced him of it before
long. As the horse objected to my being placed so far back on his
haunch, and I couldn't get forward, there naturally arose a dispute,
which eventuated in the horse running off with both of us. After being
duly deposited on the ground, the horse seemed delighted, and
expressed his pleasure by kicking up his heels. After various
vicissitudes, I was safely deposited at the head-quarters of the First
Brigade, under the command of Colonel Connell.

Upon the announcement that "Alf" had "arriv," I heard the stentorian
lungs of Colonel Durbin Ward ask: "Dead or alive?"

With fear and trembling I entered the tent, and found Colonel Connell,
with nearly all his officers. I think Byron says something about there
being

  "A sound of revelry by night."

Well, so there was. Byron can prove it by me. O, shades of the
"vine-clad hills of Bingen," but the "Isabella" was profuse! I
remember being kept busy for two hours telling yarns and riddles, and
the next day was accused of borrowing a horse and leading him home. My
medical adviser, Dr. Wright, of the 35th Ohio, kept with me until the
roads forked, and then he _deviated_.

Yesterday I paid a visit to the lamented Bob McCook's "Old Ninth"
Regiment. The men are in splendid condition--the pride of the
division. They are noted as the most ingenious battalion in the Army
of the Cumberland. They have improvised a turning-shop, and
manufacture chessmen, checkers, and every variety of specimens in that
line. They have a flying-Dutchman, revolving swing, quoits, bag races,
etc., while the lovers of horse-racing and cock-fighting can be duly
amused every day in the week by members of the different regiments,
each tenacious of the fair fame of his favorite battalion. Last night
a fine game-cock, belonging to the 2d Minnesota, whipped one owned by
the 35th Ohio, and, as a matter of course, the 2d Minnesota are in
high glee, "crowing" over their chicken.

The 2d Minnesota, the 35th Ohio, and 9th Ohio Regiments are wedded.
Each will vie with the other for the laurels in case of a fight. We
have here, close at hand, the 17th, 31st, and 34th Ohio, besides those
already mentioned. Our force is adequate for all the rebels dare send
against us.

The voice of the boys is universally for the Union, against all
traitors, whether those who openly meet them in the field, or the more
dastardly coward that remains at home and backbites, and aids the
enemy by words of comfort, and spreading dissensions in the rear.

The soldiers are unanimous upon the war question. They want no
milk-and-water policy, and all they ask is, that the friends at home
will back them in the field. Let all, whether Democrat, Republican,
Abolitionist, or Pro-slavery, _unite_ upon the _Union_. Let us have
the Government sustained, regardless of all else. People at home have
no right to dictate to our leaders what policy they should pursue.
They are presumed to know what is best. If slavery falls, why
sympathize with the owners? What claims have they upon your
sympathies? A strange change has come over the people since former
years. One party accused the other, and all who were opposed to
slavery, as having "nigger on the brain." Now it is reversed. The
rebel sympathizer, the ultra pro-slavery man, is the individual who is
now troubled with this complaint.

Let us hope our whole people will be thoroughly united at the coming
elections, and let their motto be: "We are unalterably opposed to the
secession of one inch of the territory of the American Union." Then I,
for one, and I know it is the universal feeling of this entire
division, will not care if the man who comes in on that platform be
Democrat, Whig, or Republican; he should have the support of all true
lovers of his country.


WOMEN IN BREECHES.

Whether the women in modern times have taken the cue from the poet's
words,

  "Once more unto the _breech_, dear friends,"

and merely added the plural, making it "breeches," I know not; but the
present war for the Union has elicited much enthusiasm among the
gentler sex, causing them, in many instances, to lay aside their
accustomed garb, and assume the exterior of the sterner portion of
creation; in proof of which the following story of the war is given:

A young woman arrived in Chicago from Louisville, Ky., whose history
is thus related in the _Post_ of that city:

"She gave her name as Annie Lillybridge, of Detroit, and stated that
her parents reside in Hamilton, Canada. Last spring she was employed
in a dry-goods store in Detroit, where she became acquainted with a
Lieutenant W----, of one of the Michigan regiments, and an intimacy
immediately sprang up between them. They corresponded for some time,
and became much attached to each other. Some time during last summer,
Lieutenant W---- was appointed to a position in the 21st Michigan
Infantry, then rendezvousing in Ionia County. The thought of parting
from the gay lieutenant nearly drove her mad, and she resolved to
share his dangers and be near him. No sooner had she resolved upon
this course than she proceeded to the act. Purchasing male attire, she
visited Ionia, enlisted in Captain Kavanagh's company, 21st Regiment.
While in camp she managed to keep her secret from all; not even the
object of her attachment, who met her every day, was aware of her
presence so near him.

"Annie left with her regiment for Kentucky, passed through all the
dangers and temptations of a camp life, endured long marches, and
sleeping on the cold ground, without a murmur. At last, the night
before the battle of Pea Ridge, (or Prairie Grove,) in which her
regiment took part, her sex was discovered by a member of her company;
but she enjoined secrecy upon him, after relating her previous
history. On the following day she was under fire, and, from a letter
she has in her possession, it appears she behaved with marked
gallantry, and, with her own hand, shot a rebel captain, who was in
the act of firing upon Lieutenant W----. But the fear of revealing her
sex continually haunted her. After the battle, she was sent out, with
others, to collect the wounded, and one of the first corpses found by
her was the soldier who had discovered her sex.

"Days and weeks passed on, and she became a universal favorite with
the regiment, so much so that her Colonel (Stephens) frequently
detailed her as regimental clerk, a position that brought her in close
contact with her lover, who, at this time, was either major or
adjutant of the regiment. A few weeks subsequently she was out on
picket duty, when she received a shot in the arm that disabled her,
and, notwithstanding the efforts of the surgeon, her wound continually
grew worse. She was sent to the hospital at Louisville, where she has
been ever since, until a few weeks ago, when she was discharged by the
post surgeon, as her arm was stiffened and rendered useless for life.
She implored to be permitted to return to her regiment; but the
surgeon was unyielding, and discharged her. Annie immediately hurried
toward home, and, by the aid of benevolent strangers, reached this
city. At Cincinnati she told her secret to a benevolent lady, and was
supplied with female attire. She declares that she will enlist in her
old regiment again, if there is a recruiting officer for the 21st in
Michigan. She still clings to the lieutenant, and says she must be
near him if he falls or is taken down sick; that where he goes she
will go; and when he dies, she will end her life by her own hand."


ANOTHER INCIDENT OF THE WAR.

A few weeks since, a captain, accompanied by a young soldier,
apparently about seventeen years of age, arrived in this city, in
charge of some rebel prisoners. During their stay in the city, the
young soldier alluded to had occasion to visit head-quarters, and at
once attracted the attention of Colonel Mundy, as being exceedingly
sprightly, and possessed of more than ordinary intelligence. Being in
need of such a young man at Barracks No. 1, the Colonel detailed him
for service in that institution. He soon won the esteem of his
superior officers, and became a general favorite with all connected
with the barracks. A few days ago, however, the startling secret was
disclosed that the supposed young man was a young lady, and the fact
was established beyond doubt, by a soldier who was raised in the same
town, with her, and knew her parents. She "acknowledged the corn," and
begged to be retained in the position to which she had been assigned;
having been in the service ten months, she desired to serve during the
war. Her wish was accordingly granted, and she is still at her post.

We learned the facts above stated, and took occasion to visit the
barracks, and was introduced to "Frank Martin," (her assumed name,)
and gleaned the following incidents connected with her extraordinary
career during the past ten months:

Frank was born near Bristol, Penn., and her parents reside in
Alleghany City, where she was raised. They are highly respectable
people, and in very good circumstances. She was sent to the convent in
Wheeling, Va., at twelve years of age, where she remained until the
breaking out of the war, having acquired a superior education, and all
the accomplishments of modern days. She visited home after leaving the
convent; and, after taking leave of her parents, proceeded to this
city, in July last, with the design of enlisting in the 2d East
Tennessee Cavalry, which she accomplished, and accompanied the Army of
the Cumberland to Nashville. She was in the thickest of the fight at
Murfreesboro, and was severely wounded in the shoulder, but fought
gallantly, and waded Stone River into Murfreesboro, on the memorable
Sunday on which our forces were driven back. She had her wound
dressed, and here her sex was disclosed, and General Rosecrans made
acquainted with the fact. She was accordingly mustered out of service,
notwithstanding her earnest entreaty to be allowed to serve the cause
she loved so well. The General was very favorably impressed with her
daring bravery, and superintended the arrangements for her safe
transmission to her parents. She left the Army of the Cumberland,
resolved to enlist again in the first regiment she met.


NEGRO SERMON DELIVERED AT TRIUNE, TENN.

                              Camp near Triune, Tenn., _May 16, 1863_.

Last Sunday week there was a grand revival meeting of the numerous
contrabands, at the Brick Church, near the village. The house was
crowded by the most fashionable black belles in the county, many of
them dressed "_a la mode_." An old man arose, and stated that he had
formerly been a _circus_ preacher, and "done been ober de country from
station to station, preachin' de gospel," and he now felt like
"talkin' to de brudders and sistern." He commenced his discourse:

"MY BELUBED BREDERN--I haben't got no Bible. De rebels, when dey
squatulated from dis place, done toted dem all off wid 'em. Derefore,
I am destrained to make a tex' myself, and ax you,

  "'WHAR DO YOU LIB?'

"Is your dwellin' in de tents of wickedness? Now, my belubed bredern,
de world am a whirlin' and a whirlin', jest as it allers hes bin. Dish
here world nebber stan' still for de Yanks or for de rebs, but keeps
on its course jest de same, and why shouldn't you do so likewise?

"If de Lord is a smilin' on us dark sheep ob de flock, and Fader
Abraham has got his bosom ready for to _deceib_ us, why should we not
be _preparred_ for de glory ob dat day?

"My tex' _requires_ ob you, '_Whar do you lib?_'

"Is you strollin' round, wid no hope of de future freedom starrin' you
in de face? Massa Linkum has done tole you, dat if you work for de
salvation ob de Union, dat you shall be saved, no matter what de
Legislatur' ob Kaintuck may say to de reverse contrary dereof--_dat
is_, if de _Union_ be saved _likewise_; and Massa Linkum is de man
what will stand up to de rack; so, derefore, I ax you, '_Whar do you
lib?_'

"De good book done tole you dat you can't serb two masters; but dat is
a passenger ob Scriptur' I nebber could understan' wid all my larnin',
for de most ob us has been serbin' a heap o' masters durin' dis
comboberation ob de white folks, wherein we colored gemmen is
interested; derefore I ask, agin and agin, de momentus question ob
'_Whar do you lib?_'

"Now, my brudders, I is perfec'ly awar dat many ob you don't lib much,
but dat you jest 'sassiate round;' you isn't de right stripe; _you
don't lib nowhar_.

"Wharfor is dis state ob society, after all de white folks am a doin
for you?

"Look aroun' an' aroun' you, an' see de glorious names oh our colored
bredern what is fitin' an a fitin' for you in de army. Dars Horace
Greeley and Fred Douglass; dars Jack Mims and Wendal Phlips; dars
Lennox Ramond and Lloyd Garrison. De last-mentioned colored pusson is
a tic'lar friend ob mine, and is named after a place whar dey now is
trainin' a lot ob our race. De Garrison was named after de garrison.

"Den dars Mrs. Beechum Sto; look at dat lady; isn't she going from de
camp to de camp just like de Martingale--what de English people had in
de las' war in Florence; and don't dey call her de Florence Martingale
ob dis hemisphere?

"Be ye also ready to answer de question as to '_Whar do you lib?_'

"So dat de glorification ob Uncle Abraham Linkum shall resound ober de
earth, and we darkeys no longer hab to hoe de corn, but lib foreber on
de fat ob de lan'. Brudder Jerry will please pass aroun' de hat."




CHAPTER XIII.

     Letter from Cheat Mountain -- The Women of the South --
     Gilbert's Brigade.


LETTER FROM CHEAT MOUNTAIN.

                              Camp of 6th Ohio, at Elkwater, Va., 1861.

The trees begin to look barren, the bronzed hue of the surrounding
hills admonishing us that October, chill and drear, is upon us. Every
thing in nature is cheerless, and, adding to nature, man has, with
despoiling hands, laid waste the country for miles about our present
location. Pen can not describe the devastation of an army: orchards
are swept away; of fences scarce a trace is left; houses are converted
into stables, fodder-cribs, and store-houses; corn-fields are used as
pastures; forests must fall to supply our men with fire-wood; in fact,
with the soldier nothing is sacred. And why should any thing be sacred
in this "section," where traitors have been fostered, and where every
vote cast was for secession? Let them reap the harvest they themselves
have sown.

The farmers come daily into camp, whining because our men cut down
their sugar-trees, or "find" a few cabbages or apples; but, as the
Colonel is aware that the boys must be kept in fire-wood, he is
heedless of their whimperings.

The cold is telling fearfully upon the men at night, and I fear, if a
supply of clothing is not soon forthcoming, much suffering will be the
consequence. It is a burning disgrace to somebody, that such things
should be, and it is galling to our regiment to see Indiana troops,
just mustered into service, passing our encampment with large, heavy
overcoats, and every thing about them denoting comfort and an
attention to their wants. The cold frosts are beginning to leave their
imprints; already snow is capping the mountain-tops, and God help us
if we get winter-bound in this "neck of woods." Some few are glorying
in the thought of the fine deer and bear hunts they will have. The
latter I can't _bear_ to think about, and the former a man must be
_der_anged to think of catching upon, these mountains.

The paymaster has been disbursing his funds for the past three days,
and the boys are all in excellent spirits. Theodore Marsh and Leonard
Swartz will go home heavily laden with the hard earnings of this
regiment. How many hearts will be gladdened by the receipt of the
little pittances sent, and how loth many will be to use the money when
they remember the toil endured to obtain it! But let the friends rest
assured that the _money_ was not thought of. A purer, a more noble
thought and higher aim animated the breasts, of those who have so
nobly suffered--a determination to see their country's honor
maintained.

Our pickets have scoured the country around, far and near, but no
signs of the enemy can be found. There is no doubt but that they have
retired for the winter. There will, however, be plenty left to guard
the interests of the Federal army until spring, when, no doubt, the
campaign will be opened with vigor, if not sooner settled.

In the reconnoissance by our regiment, a week since, traces of Captain
Bense and his party were found in the Secession camp; several of Hall
& Cobb's (our sutlers) checks being found in their camp, and a
prisoner, afterward brought in, said they had been forwarded to
Richmond, Va.

A rumor that this regiment is to be immediately ordered to Cincinnati
set the boys fairly dancing; but Madame Rumor is so frequent a visitor
that the more sensible scarcely noticed her arrival. The most
authentic rumor is, that Colonel Bosley is to be made a
brigadier-general. "We shall see what we shall see."

The sky is threatening, and dark as midnight, the air intensely cold,
and we are hourly expecting a regular old snow-storm. Chestnuts, fine
and ripe, are abundant; there are hundreds of bushels all over these
hills, while wild grapes are as abundant as hops in Kent.

Yesterday, a wild-cat was shot and brought into camp by one of the 3d
Ohio boys. He was about three feet in length, and a "varmint" I
shouldn't like to meet on a dark night.

                              Yours,

                                        Alf.


THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTH.

A great deal has been written about them, and there is no doubt but
they are a thousandfold more bitter than the men. They were, and many
are yet, perfectly venomous; and the more ignorant, the more spiteful
they seem. The following act was blazoned forth as wonderfully heroic
in its character, just after our forces occupied Philippa, Beelington,
and Beverly:

"The two noble heroines, Misses Abbie Kerr and Mary McLeod, of
Fairmont, Marion County, who rode from their home to Philippa, a
distance of thirty-odd miles, to apprise our forces there of the
approach of the enemy, arrived in Staunton by the western train, on
Wednesday night last, and remained till Friday morning, when they went
to Richmond. While here they were the 'observed of all observers,' and
were received with a cordial welcome. Great anxiety was manifested by
all to hear a detailed account of their interesting adventures from
their own lips.

"They left Fairmont at six o'clock on Sunday morning, and hastened,
without escorts, to Philippa. They had not gone a great distance
before they found that a shoe of one of the horses needed fixing. They
stopped at a blacksmith's shop for that purpose, and while there a
Union man came up and questioned them very closely as to who they
were, and on what mission they were going. Miss McLeod replied to his
interrogatories, telling him that their surname was Fleming, and that
they were going to Barbour County, to see their relations. Their
interrogator seemed to be very hard to satisfy, and it taxed the
ingenuity of Miss McLeod to improvise a story which would succeed in
imposing upon him. As soon as the horse-shoe had been fixed, they
again proceeded upon their way, but had not gone far before their evil
genius, their interrogator at the blacksmith's shop, dashed by them on
horseback. They perceived that his suspicions had not been allayed,
and that he was going on in advance of them to herald the approach of
spies. They allowed him to pass out of sight, in advance, and then
destroyed the letters they had in their possession, that the search of
their persons, to which they then anticipated they would be required
to submit, might not betray them. When they arrived at the village of
Webster, they found it in commotion, and many persons were anxiously
awaiting their arrival, in the eager hope of capturing the spies.

"They were there subjected to a rigorous cross-examination. The
heroines were calm and self-possessed--answering questions without
hesitancy, and expressing a perfect willingness to have their persons
searched by any lady who might be selected for that purpose. They were
allowed to pass on, after being detained for some time, though there
were some in the crowd who were very much opposed to it. As soon as
they got out of sight of that village they rode very rapidly, for fear
they might still be arrested by some of those who were so much opposed
to allowing them to proceed. They arrived at Philippa about two
o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, and told Colonel Porterfield
that the enemy would attack his camp that night or the next morning.

"These ladies then went to the house of a Mr. Huff, about a mile and a
half from Philippa, where they stayed all night. The next morning they
heard the report of the firing at Philippa, and, in disguise,
accompanied by a countrywoman, returned to Philippa, on foot, to see
what had been the result. They moved about among the enemy without
being detected or molested in the least degree. Going into one of the
houses, they found James Withers, of the Rockbridge Cavalry, who had
concealed himself there to prevent the enemy from capturing him. These
ladies immediately told him that they would effect his rescue, if he
would trust to them. He very readily consented; whereupon these ladies
disguised him as a common countryman, by furnishing him with some old
clothes; they then gave him a basket of soap, with a recipe for making
it, that he might pass as a peddler of that necessary article. With
these old clothes, and a basket of soap on his arm, and gallantly
mounted upon a mule, accompanied by his guardian angels, he passed
safely through the crowds of the enemy, and was brought by them, safe
and sound, into the camp of his friends at Beverly, after a circuitous
and hard ride over precipitous mountains, where persons had seldom, if
ever, ridden before. His fellow-soldiers and friends rejoiced greatly
when he arrived, for they thought that he was either killed or taken
prisoner by the enemy; they rejoiced that the supposed 'dead was
alive,' and the 'lost was found.' He is now known in our camp as the
'peddler of soap.' The heroic conduct of these ladies will live in
history, and they will become the heroines of many a thrilling story
of fiction, in years to come."

We have no doubt but that their names will live in history. Benedict
Arnold is still in the memory of every American, loathed and despised,
as Davis and his crew will eventually be, without doubt.


GILBERT'S BRIGADE.

In May last, the 124th Ohio was near Franklin, Tenn., a part of
General Granger's division, and belonging to Gilbert's brigade.
Friend "Esperance," in writing about the regiment, says: "We are
encamped near Franklin, in a beautiful situation as regards the view
of the country; and in a military point of view it is excellent, being
surrounded with sufficient elevations of land to enable our
fortifications to sweep the whole country in every direction. The
brigade is composed of the 113th, 124th, 125th, and the 121st Ohio
Volunteers, and the 78th Illinois. The 124th Ohio was organized in
Cleveland, but contains two companies from Cincinnati--company G,
under the command of William A. Powell, of your city, and company I,
under the command of Captain J. H. Frost, also of Cincinnati. Captain
Powell has been in the service ever since the commencement of the war;
he has served in Virginia and Maryland, also in Missouri, in General
Fremont's Body-guard. He was again in Maryland last summer, at
Cumberland, in command of a company in the 84th Ohio Volunteer
Infantry, and is, in all respects, strictly a military man, very
generally liked by his company, and respected by his superior
officers. Captain Frost has also been in the service before, and is
much liked by his men, and esteemed by all who know him here. The
health of the regiment is good, and of the two companies from
Cincinnati especially so.

"With regard to the army of General Rosecrans, it is by us considered
invincible. General Rosecrans is looked upon as a host in himself.
Every soldier appears anxious to meet the enemy; the idea of a defeat
never seems to enter into their imagination, but all are enthusiastic
in their expectation of being able to restore the South and
South-west of our common country to subjection to the Constitution,
and obedience to the laws."

       *       *       *       *       *

A chaplain of an Indiana regiment recently married one of the Hoosier
boys to a Tennessee girl, and concluded the ceremony by remarking, the
_oath_ was binding for three years, or _during the war_!




CHAPTER XIV.

     Confessions of a Fat Man -- Home-guard -- The Negro on the
     Fence -- A Camp Letter of Early Times -- "Sweethearts"
     against the War.


CONFESSIONS OF A FAT MAN--HOME-GUARD.

The moment the flag was threatened, large bodies of men were called
upon to rally to its defense. Being large and able-bodied, I enrolled
with the home-guard. The drill was very severe in hot weather, and I
wanted an attendant, a fan, and pitcher of ice-water.

I am constantly reminded that one of the first requirements of a
soldier is to throw out his chest and draw in his stomach. Having been
burned out several times, while occupying an attic, I have had
considerable practice in throwing out my chest; but by what system of
practice could I ever hope to draw in my stomach? I can't "dress up;"
it's no use of my trying. If my vest buttons are in a line, I am far
in the rear. If I toe the mark, a fearful bulge indicates my position.
Once we had a new drill-sergeant, who was near-sighted. Running his
eye along the line, he exclaimed sharply:

"What is that man doing in the ranks with a base drum?"

He pointed at me; but I hadn't any drum; it was the surplus stomach,
that I couldn't, for the life of me, draw in. I am the butt of
numberless jokes, as you may well suppose. They have got a story in
the Guards, that, when I first heard the command "order arms," I
dropped my musket, and, taking out my notebook, began drawing an
_order_ on the Governor for what arms I needed. They say I ordered a
Winans steam-gun, with a pair of Dahlgren howitzers for side arms!
Base fabrication! My ambition never extended beyond a rifled cannon,
and they know it!

Although, in respect to size, I belong to the "heavies," my preference
is for the light infantry service. My knapsack is marked "Light
Infantry!" One evening the spectators seemed convulsed about
something, and my comrades tittered by platoons, whenever my back was
turned. It was a mystery to me till I laid off my knapsack. Some
wretch had erased the two final letters, and I had been parading, all
the evening, labeled, "LIGHT INFANT!"

The above is one of the thousand annoyances to which I am subjected,
and nothing but my consuming patriotism could ever induce me to submit
to it. I overheard a spectator inquire of the drill-sergeant one day:

"Do you drill that fat man all at once?"

"No," he returned, in an awful whisper; "_I drill him by squads!_"

I could have _drilled_ him, if I had had a bayonet.

Specifications have been published in regard to my uniform, and
contractors advertised for; the making will be let out to the lowest
bidder. In case the Guards are ordered to take the field, a special
commissary will be detailed to draw my rations.

[Illustration: The fat volunteer. See page 143.]

That reminds me of a harrowing incident. On last night's drill an old
farmer, who dropped in to see us drill, took me aside, and said he
wanted to sell me a yoke of powerful oxen.

"My ancient agriculturist," said I, smiling at his simplicity, "I have
no use for oxen."

"Perhaps not at present," quoth he, "but if you go to war you will
want them."

"For what?" said I, considerably annoyed.

"Want 'em to _draw your rations_!"

The Guards paid me a delicate compliment at their last meeting:
elected me _Child_ of the Regiment, with the rank of a First
_Corpulent_. I was about to return thanks in a neat speech, when they
told me it was no use; that a reporter, who was present, had got the
whole thing in type--speech and all--and I could read it in the
evening paper. I got his views, and held my own.

Yours for the Union, including the Stars, also the Stripes.

                                        Fat Contributor.


"What are you going to do, you bad woman's boy?" said Mrs. Wiggles, as
her youngest son passed through the kitchen into the garden.

"Down with the Seceshers!" he shouted; and she looked out just in time
to see the top of a rose-bush fall before the artillery-sword of her
son, that the youngster held in his hand.

"You had better go to Molasses Jugtion, if you want to do that," she
said, restraining his hand as 't was lifted against a favorite
fuschia, that she had trained with so much care.

"Dear me!" she murmured, half to herself; "what a terrible thing war
is, when children show signs of such terrible consanguinity!"


THE NEGRO ON THE FENCE.

      "Hearken to what I now relate,
       And on its moral meditate."


  A Wagoner, with grist for mill,
  Was stalled at bottom of a hill.
  A brawny negro passed that way,
  So stout he might a lion slay.
  "I'll put my shoulder to the wheels,
  If you'll bestir your horse's heels."
  So said the African, and made
  As if to render timely aid.
  "No," cried the wagoner, "stand back!
  I'll take no help from one that's black;"
  And, to the negro's great surprise,
  Flourished his whip before his eyes.
  Our "darkey" quick "skedaddled" thence,
  And sat upon the wayside fence.
  Then went the wagoner to work,
  And lashed his horses to a jerk;
  But all his efforts were in vain;
  With shout, and oath, and whip, and rein,
  The wheels budged not a single inch,
  And tighter grow the wagoner's pinch.
  Directly there came by a child,
  With toiling step, and vision wild,
  "Father," said she, with hunger dread,
  "We famish for the want of bread."
  Then spake the negro: "If you will,
  I'll help your horses to the mill."
  The wagoner, in grievous plight,
  Now swore and raved with all his might,
  Because the negro wasn't white;
  And plainly ordered him to go
  To a certain place, that's down below;
  Then, rushing, came the wagoner's wife,
  To save her own and infant's life;
  By robbers was their homestead sacked,
  And smoke and blood their pillage tracked.

    Here stops our tale. When last observed,
  The wagoner was still "conserved"
  In mud, at bottom of the hill,
  But bent on getting to the mill;
  And hard by, not a rod from thence,
  The negro sat upon the fence.


A CAMP LETTER OF EARLY TIMES.

Our camp is alive; our camp is exuberant; our camp is in a _furore_.
"Who's that man with 'Secesh' clothes?" says one; and "Who's that
big-faced, genial, good-natured looking feller?" says another. "Are
they prisoners?" "Maybe it's the paymaster; and that short, chunky man
is here to watch the other feller, and see that the money is paid all
on the square." "No, it aint one nor t' other--'tis Cons Millar, the
ever-vigilant and hard-working Cons, of the _Commercial_; and the
good-natured looking feller is INVISIBLE GREEN, or, as he is
familiarly called, Bill Crippen, of the _Times_." They have brought
sunshine into camp, for a merrier set of soldiers the sun never shone
on than are the Guthrie Grays to-night. Cons has just had supper, and
Bill is "spreading devastation" over the table of Captain Andrews.
They have both been up inspecting intrenchments, which are _in statu
quo_, the brave Lee having retreated some sixteen miles, or, more
politely speaking, "fallen back." So I suppose we will soon have to
creep up on the gallant gentleman once more, and see if he can not be
induced to fall still further back.

The news of the gallant conduct of our Cincinnati boys at the late
fight under Rosecrans sent a thrill of pleasure to the hearts of all
our men, and a feeling of envy that we were not with them to share the
glory of that day. Colonel Lytle, Stephen McGroarty, and the other
brave fellows' names, are on the lips of all, and a fervent "God bless
them" is frequently uttered. Our encampment now may be said to extend
over four miles, a brigade of twelve thousand; and I can assure you
they make a formidable appearance. Three splendid batteries, three or
four fine cavalry companies, and any quantity of men, are yet on the
way.

One of the best Secesh tricks I have heard of was attempted, a short
time since, by a rebel telegrapher. When Lee was about to advance upon
this point, wishing to ascertain the number of troops here, he sent
out this operator, with pocket implements, to attach to our wires. So,
carefully picking his way through the woods, Mr. Operator came upon a
secluded part of the road; climbing the pole, he attached his battery,
and "click, click, click," he inquires of our operator at
head-quarters, "How many troops have you altogether, that can, at any
pressing event, be sent to aid us if we attack Lee?" Just as he
concluded the query, one of the ever-vigilant pickets of the Indiana
regiments, who infest the woods and roads in every direction, espied
the gentleman, and brought him into camp with his non-confiscated
horse. A minute more and the fellow, doubtless, would have been fully
informed, as he had guarded against cipher-telegraphing by
telegraphing that the cipher-operator was out, and the general wanted
an immediate answer.

Our boys continue to scour the woods, and constantly are finding
Secesh documents. The following _beautiful poem_ is from the pen of
Miss M. H. Cantrell, of Jonesboro, Tennessee, and was found in the
pocket of a "Secesher," who had invaliantly fled, dropping his
overcoat and love-epistles. It is entitled:


    SWEETHARTS AGAINST WAR.

    O Dear! its shameful I declare
      To make the men all go
    And leive so manny sweetharts here
      Wit out a single bough.

    We like to see them leave 'tis true,
      And wold not urge them stay;
    But what are we poor girls to do
      When you are all away?

    We told you we cold spare you here
      Before you had to go,
    But Bless your Harts, wernt aware
      That we would miss you sow.

    We miss you all in manny ways,
      But troth will ware out;
    The gratest things we miss you for
      Joy going withe out.

    On Sunday when we go to church,
      We look in vane for sum
    To mete us smilin on the porch,
      And ask to see us home.

    And then we dont enjoy a walk
      Since all the bows have gone;
    For what the good to us plain talk
      If we must trip alone?

    But what the use talkin thus
      We will try to beecontent
    And if you cannot come to us
      A message may bee cent.

    And that one comfort any way
      Although we are Apart,
    There is no reason why we may
      Not open hart to hart.

    We trust it may not ever come
      To any War like test,
    We want to see our Southern home
      Secured in peaceful rest.

    But if the blood of those we love
      In freedoms cause must floo,
    With fervent trust in Lov Above
      We bid them onward go.

                              Written By your friend,

                                        M. H. Cantrell.


I inclose you the original document. I suppose the aforesaid lovyer
did "onward go," and, no doubt, is still going, if he has not already
reached the town of Jonesboro, and met his gal upon "the porch" as she
returned from church.

Snake-hunting has given way to trout-fishing. As a matter of course,
the noise of camp has driven all trout four miles from our present
abode; but scarcely a day passes but our men return with a nice string
of these delicious denizens of the brooks hereabouts.

I have often, heretofore, thought I would like much to be a cavalry
soldier, but I'll swear I wouldn't like to be a cavalry horse; for, of
all the hay-forsaken, fleshless-looking animals eyes ever gazed upon,
the horses out here take the premium. Well, 'pon my word, I took
Captain Bracken's horse (the roan I once rode) a quart of oats, sent
from Beverly; well, the horse wouldn't eat them; he didn't know what
they were! and I had to break or smash some of them so that he might
smell the "aroma," to facilitate his knowledge, and he was too weak to
inhale air enough to inflate his nostrils, so that he could smell the
dainty meal I had in my kindness brought him. Captain Bracken promised
to have them parched and made into a tea for the animal.

_September 30._--What a jump of time! Well, I'll tell you the cause.
The morning I intended to post this letter the entire regiment was
ordered to make an advance upon Mingo Flats, a Secession hole fifteen
miles from this place. They were accompanied by Howe's battery and an
Indiana regiment. The boys were not more than fairly started when a
terrific rain-storm set in. O! what a pitiless, deluging rain! The
very thought of that _sprinkle_ of twenty hours of unceasing torrent
makes me, even now, feel as if I should forever have an antipathy
against drinking water. Onward the boys trudged, seemingly not caring
a cuss if school kept or not. The Elkwater soon assumed a rather
formidable appearance; night came on, and with it an increase of the
flood. We stood up against trees to rest; some crawled in
fence-corners; a few, more lucky, found an old log stable and a
smoke-house; these were quickly filled from "pit to dome," as Fred
Hunt would say, for some slept on rafters, cross-beams, etc. Still it
poured down; still the fountains of heaven gushed _forth_, fifth,
tenth, or twentieth; anyhow, it continued to rain, and at daybreak it
rained yet, and the regiment moved on to Mingo Flats; drove in the
rebel pickets; heard the Secesh varmints beat the long roll; knew they
were scared; _and still it rained_! Colonel Sullivan, of the Indiana
regiment, was in, command: sent out a big gun; boys went on a big
hill; found the enemy were eight or ten thousand strong; big gun
ordered back, and as we only had two thousand men, remembered the
axiom about "discretion being the better part of valor;" obeyed the
aforesaid axiom. _Still, recollect, it kept raining in torrents_;
dripping down Quarter-master Shoemaker's pants into his boots; running
over Colonel Anderson's back. Major Christopher looked dry, in order
to get a drink: but that was a failure. Captain Westcott looked sad;
in fact he said it was the wettest time he ever knew or heard tell
of--wondered if old Noah ever explored these big hills.

Captain Russell picked out a fine hill to locate upon, if this really
intended to be another deluge. Captain Clark observed he was fond of
_heavy wet_. Jules Montagnier said it was _due_ time to _dry up_.
_Still it rained._ The regiments were ordered to fall back. Well, the
mud was so infernal slippery it was very easily done; some fell
forward in the vain endeavor to fall back. After killing seven or
eight poor, pauper-looking, "Secesh varmints," the boys set fire to
Marshall's store, the enterprising proprietor being away from his
business--a very notorious Secessionist, having donated $25,000 to
the C. S. A. The building made a _beautiful_ fire, and our boys
brought away a fine lot of saws, augers, and various other articles of
_dry goods_. The loss of the augers, Colonel Anderson says, will be a
great _bore_ to Marshall. _Please don't forget how infernal hard it
was raining all this time._

Well, they reached the first ford on their return trip; a sad misnomer
now, for it was an unfordable ford. The water of old Elkwater was
rearing and plunging, and furiously wild. Every mountain (and there
are myriads) was sending out its wet _aid_ to swell the raging
torrent; the regiment, at this time, only three miles from the
Secessionists. A bold front had to be put on, as it was a sure thing,
if the rebels found out the weakness of our force, we were goners.
There was no doubt, however, but that they were terribly frightened,
as they had heard we were twenty thousand strong. Anxiously the boys
waited the falling of the mighty waters. _It had now rained twenty-six
hours._ Large trees came whistling by with lightning speed; the river
seemed wild with delight, and the waves clapped their hands, leaping
higher and higher; but, _as you know_, (no reflection meant,) Mr.
Editor, a drunken man will get sober if not supplied with more liquor,
so the river will _subside_ if not furnished with the "aqueous fluid."

Colonel Anderson was the first to cross the stream. His horse plunged
in boldly, but was within an ace of being carried away by the still
almost resistless current. There goes "Shoemaker," the easy,
good-natured "Ned," as he is called. Yes, sure enough, there he does
go, for his horse has plunged, and the torrent is too wild, for they
are both beyond their depth, and the horse is going down, down. Every
eye is bent upon "Shoe." He is carried further and further. He grasps
a tree and pulls himself up, looking the picture of despair. The major
says, "H-o-l-d, b-o-y-s! d-o-n't b-e i-n t-o-o m-u-c-h h-u-r-r-y;" but
they, eager to get back, walked a foot-bridge of rough timber and old
logs, very narrow. Several crossed upon this, Captain Russell making a
very narrow escape with his life. Colonel Anderson, perceiving the
danger, ordered that no more should cross, threatening to shoot the
first man who should disobey the order. This, as a matter of course,
was done to deter the men from hazarding their lives needlessly.
Colonel Anderson had but just given the order, when Frank Guhra, a
private in Captain Clark's company, made the attempt, reached the
middle of the stream, lost his balance, fell, and in a moment was
whirled out of sight, the current running at the rate of twenty miles
an hour. Several lost their guns. It was three or four hours before
they succeeded in crossing.

Upon their return to camp an unwelcome sight was presented; the water
had swept nearly every thing away. The tents had been, many of them,
three and four feet in water; some had to take to trees to save life.
The water had subsided, leaving a nasty slime, a foot thick, all over
the camp-ground. Camp-kettles, knapsacks haversacks, and numerous
floatable, light articles, had passed down stream--Captain Wilmington
losing every thing. I saw the Captain trying to borrow a pair of
pantaloons, he running around in his drawers. An old resident of this
locality (Mr. Stonnicker) says this is the biggest flood ever known in
this region. By the by, Mr. Stonnicker has a beautiful daughter, Miss
Delilah, who seems to be fairly "the child of the regiment,"
especially of the officers. I will not mention names, as the wives at
home would be jealous.

I see you talk of sending out a gentleman to take money home to the
families of the volunteers. But cuss the paymaster, "or any other
man." Why don't the paymaster come? Send _me_ some papers. I can't get
any without a peck of trouble.




CHAPTER XV.

     The Winter Campaign in Virginia -- Didn't Know of the
     Rebellion -- General W. H. Litle -- Drilling -- A Black
     Nightingale's Song.


THE WINTER CAMPAIGN IN VIRGINIA.

Your correspondent has been sick. Your correspondent has been in bed;
has had the rheumatism in his back, neck, arms, legs, toes; is down
with the mountain-fever; tries in vain to sleep; howling dog,
belonging to Captain Russell's "brigade," keeps up such an infernal
howling it makes me mad: wish Russell had to eat him, hair and all. It
was raining when I last wrote; think we had just been flooded out.
Well, the very next day we were again ordered over that Godforsaken
road, when the clouds again blackened up, and five hundred men tramped
it. What have the Sixth done that the heavens should open their
floodgates? All I wonder is, how the boys stand it. But they do bear
up under it nobly, remembering the Shakspearian passage, slightly
altered:

  "The same clouds that lower upon the house of Abe Lincoln
  Look frowningly upon Jeff Davis."

The boys are truly "ragged and sassy;" very many are shoeless, and
with a flag of truce protruding from the rear. The service in these
woods wears out more clothing than ordinary service should. Some of
the boys are careless, but many are, helplessly, nearly naked. Our
officers have used every exertion to get apparel, but the apparel is,
like a paymaster, "hard to get hold of." Our men have been sorely
tantalized by seeing regiment after regiment of the Indiana troops
paid off, before their very eyes. In fact, they have been running
round camp, with five, ten, and twenty-dollar gold pieces, shaking
them in our faces. Add Colwell--Corporal Add--paid an Indiana boy of
the 17th Regiment three slices of bacon and half a pound of coffee
just for the privilege of hefting and rubbing his eye with an _eagle_.
Colwell is a good printer; Colwell is a good writer; and, last and
best of all, he can eat more gingerbread than any other one man in the
army: he wants Wash Armstrong to send him a box of the article.

Since the accidental shooting of Lieutenant Moses Bidwell, by Adams,
of the 17th Indiana, we have had another accident. Mr. Hopkins has had
his collar-bone broken, and his shoulder-blade thrown completely out
of place, by the falling of a tree.

We are having jovial times out here, rain or shine. A convocation of
good fellows met at Captain Abbott's quarters, 3d Ohio. Captain Abbott
is from Zanesville. Captain McDougal of Newark, Captain Dana of
Athens, Captain Rossman of Hamilton, Lieutenants House and Swasey of
Columbus, Lieutenants Bell and Dale of Newark, not forgetting
Miles--the smiling, good-natured Miles--of the 17th Indiana,
Quarter-master Shoemaker, Andy Hall, J. W. Slanker, W. B. Sheridan,
and Self, all of the 6th Ohio, made up the party. The landlord filled
his flowing bowl, and stories, songs, and recitations were the order
of the evening, and the

  "Glow-worm '_began_' to show the matin to be near"

ere we started to separate.

Miles invited those who would, to go over to his palace, and promised
us a sardine supper; accordingly, but few refused the invitation. Now,
Miles had a _jug of oil_, just from the Thurston House, Paris,
_Bourbon_ County, Ky. This oil was put to good use; and soon a _box_
of herring was opened, and the oil again distributed, and then some
speeches were made.

The meeting was called to order by the fat Quarter-master, Shoemaker.

A motion was made that we adjourn and go to Cincinnati. This was voted
down. Motions were continually made to take a drink. These were
carried, every _pop_, by _Sherry_, your correspondent being the only
one having the moral courage to vote in the negative.

Now, Miles is from Columbus; a jolly, good fellow, and, when the time
for retiring arrived, proffered me his bed, provided I would notice
him in my next letter. This I promised, and accepted his hospitality.
The party dispersed, and Miles was soon in the arms of Morpheus; he
had fallen asleep making an eloquent appeal to the _chair_. I had just
got into a nice doze, when I was aroused by the sound of a voice.

"Gen'l'men, you're all my frens, every one of you. But, gen'l'men, I
invite you, freely, to my sardines. You, 'specially, Ned Shoemaker;
'specially you, Andy Hall, and all of you.

"The country is a momentous question,"----

Here I ventured to inquire of him as to whom he was addressing his
conversation?

"Why, my frens," replied he. "Isn't that Ned Shoemaker?" pointing to a
barrel, upon the top of which was my hat; "and are not those my
companions," pointing to a pile of cheese-boxes, herring-kegs, etc.,
that were strewn around.

He was much astonished when I assured him his friends had _departed_
an hour since, at least.


DIDN'T KNOW OF THE REBELLION.

Going out with a party of scouts, one day, in Virginia, we espied,
away up a little ravine, a log-house, completely isolated.
Anticipating a good, substantial meal, we rode up to the domicile,
where an old woman, with a face with all the intelligence of a pig
beaming from it, came to the door, looking the very picture of
consternation. We dismounted, and asked for something to eat.

"What! wittles?" exclaimed the horrible-looking creature. "Whar did
you come from? And what be sogers doin' on here?"

"Well, I came from Indianapolis," said Captain Bracken, "and am after
something to eat. Are there any Secesh in these parts?"

"Any what?"

"Secesh."

"Why, gracious, what's them?"

"Are you and your folks for the Union?"

"Why, sartain; thar's the old man neow."

Just at this moment there came a gaunt-eyed, slim-livered,
carnivorous, yellow-skinned, mountain Virginian--no doubt belonging to
one of the first families, as his name was Rhett.

"Look-a-hear," continued the old woman; "this ere soger wants to know
if you be for Union?"

The old man looked, if any thing, more astonished than the old woman
at the soldier. In the course of conversation we asked the man, "What
he thought of the war?"

"What war?" exclaimed the old fellow; "the Revolution?"

"Yes. The rebellion, we call it."

"Ah! we gin the Britishers fits, didn't we?"

It was evident the man knew nothing of the rebellion going on.

When asked if he heard the fight, the other day, only six miles from
his house, he opened his eyes widely, and said he "heard it
'_thunderin'_' mighty loud, but couldn't see no clouds, and didn't
know what to make _on it_."

The fact was, these people live up in this place; raise what little
will keep them from year to year; never read a paper, ('cause why,
they can't); and they scarcely ever visit anybody.

There are many cases of this kind within a few miles of this place,
where as much _pent-up_ ignorance is displayed. If North Carolina is
any worse, in Heaven's name send no more money to _distant heathen_,
but attend to those at home.


GENERAL WILLIAM H. LYTLE,

Of whom our city has cause to be justly proud, has won for himself a
name, engraven on the scroll of honor, as one of our country's heroes.
A brief mention of his military career may be summed up as follows:

He was, during the Mexican campaign, on General Scott's line, and,
although but a mere youth, he commanded an independent company of
volunteer infantry, from Cincinnati, that was afterward attached to
the 2d Ohio, on Scott's line, and commanded by Colonel William Irwin,
of Lancaster, Ohio. They were stationed most of the time at the "Rio
Frio," keeping open the line of communication between the cities of
Puebla and Mexico. Brigadier-General Robert Mitchell, of Kansas, and
Brigadier-General McGinnis, of Iowa, were captains in the same
regiment. At the termination of that war General Lytle studied and
entered into the practice of the law.

In 1857 he was elected Major-General of the First District of Ohio
Volunteers. On the 19th of April, 1861, he was ordered by the Governor
of Ohio to organize a camp for four regiments of infantry, and the day
after receiving this order General Lytle took into Camp Harrison the
5th and 6th Ohio Infantry, and shortly after the 9th and 10th Ohio.
The latter regiment tendered him the colonelcy, which was accepted;
and he led it through the Virginia campaign, under McClellan and
Rosecrans, up to the date of Carnifex Ferry, where he was wounded,
September 10, 1861. Recovering from his wounds, he reported for duty
in January, 1862, and was placed by General Buell in command of the
Camp of Instruction at Bardstown, Ky., relieving General Wood. In
March he was relieved, and reporting at Nashville, was placed in
command of Dumont's brigade, Major-General O. M. Mitchel's division,
at Murfreesboro, and made, with General Mitchel, the campaign in
Northern Alabama, and conducted the evacuation of Huntsville, August
31, 1862, under orders from Major-General Buell. He commanded the
Seventeenth Brigade up to the battle of Chaplin Hills, where he was
again wounded, October 8, 1862. During the following winter he was
promoted to Brigadier-General, dating from November 29, 1862, and
reported for duty to the Army of the Cumberland in the spring of 1863,
and was assigned to the command of the First Brigade, Third Division,
of the Twentieth Army Corps.


A TRIBUTE TO THE TENTH OHIO.

When Colonel Mulligan was in Cincinnati, he and the noble William H.
Lytle were invited to the dedication of the Catholic Institute. It was
the 22d of November, 1861. Lytle had just recovered from his Carnifex
Ferry wound. The Colonel was called upon for a speech. He said:

"When I go back and tell my men how, for their sakes, you have
received me to-night, _they will feel very proud_. They often think of
you, my fellow-citizens; and the brother, mother, wife, or sister,
among you, in spirit visits the soldier as he rests in his chill tent
at night.

"It does not become me to speak of my own regiment, for I know that
he who putteth his armor on can not boast as he that puts it off. But,
as it is distant, and can not hear my words, I may say this much: the
Tenth has been ever true to the motto inscribed upon its flag--'God
and the Union.'"

The Colonel paid a feeling tribute to John Fitzgibbons, the dead
color-bearer of the Tenth, and hoped that the memory of his deeds, of
Kavanagh, and others, who fell on the field in defense of their
country, might inspire their countrymen to rise and avenge them.


DRILLING.

    Sweet Amy asked, with pleading eyes,
      "Dear Charley, teach me, will you,
    The words I've heard your captain say?
      I should so like to drill you!"

    "What! little one, you take command!
      Well, Amy, I'm quite willing;
    In such a company as yours,
      I can't have too much drilling.

    "Stand over, then, and sing out clear,
      Like this: 'Squad! stand at ease!'"
    "O, Charles! you'll wake papa, up stairs;
      Don't shout like that, love, please."

    "Now, stand at ease, like this, you see!
      And then, I need scarce mention,
    The next command you have to give,
      Is this one: 'Squad! attention!'

    "Now, Amy, smartly after me;
      (You're sure, dear, it won't bore you?)
    'Forward, march! Halt! Front! Right dress!'
      There, now, I'm close before you.

    "'Present arms!'" "Well, it does look odd."
      "You don't believe I'd trifle!
    We hold our arms out, just like this,
      In drill without the rifle.

    "Now say, 'Salute your officer!'"
      "O, Charles! for shame! how can you?
    I thought you were at some such trick,
      You horrid, naughty man you."

    Charles "ordered arms" without command;
      She smoothed her ruffled hair,
    And pouted, frowned, and blushed, and then
      Said softly, "_As you were_!"


A BLACK NIGHTINGALE'S SONG.

Shortly after our troops occupied one of the towns in Virginia, a
squad occupying a tent near a dwelling heard delightful music. The
unknown vocalist sang in such sweet, tremulous, thrilling notes, that
the boys strained their ears to drink in every note uttered.

On the following day they made some excuse to visit the house, but no
one was there. Once they observed a sylph-like form, but she was not
the person; and so they lived on, each night hearing the same divine
music.

One night, when they were gathered together, the voice was again
heard. "By Jove!" said one, "I'm bound to find out who that is; she
must be discovered." A dozen voices took up the remark, and a certain
nervous youth was delegated to reconnoiter the place. He crept on
tiptoe toward the dwelling, leaped the garden-wall, and finally,
undiscovered, but pallid and remorseful, gained the casement. Softly
raising his head, he peeped within. The room was full of music; he
seemed to grow blind for a moment, when lo! upon the kitchen-table sat
the mysterious songster, an ebony-hued negress, scouring the tinware,
and singing away. Just as he was peering through the window, the ebony
songster discovered him. The soldier's limbs sank beneath him, and the
black specimen of humanity shouted:

"Go 'way dar, you soger-man, or I'll let fly de fryin' pan at your
head! You musn't stan' dar peekin' at dis chile."

The soldier left, his romantic vision dispelled.


OUR HOOSIER BOYS.

Dedicated to the Brave Soldiers of Indiana.

  From East to West your camp-fires blaze,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  On Vicksburg's hights our flag you raise,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  And on Virginia's trait'rous soil,
  In answer to your country's call,
  The echoes of your footsteps fall,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!

  While Southern suns upon you beat,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  You sternly march the foe to meet,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  Two winters, numbered with the past,
  Have o'er you swept with stormy blast,
  Since home's dear walls inclosed you last;
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!

  By Richmond's fields, baptized with blood,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  By precious dust 'neath Shiloh's sod,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  By every martyred hero's grave,
  By sacred rights they died to save.
  We'll cherish in our hearts the brave
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!

  While yet a vacant place is here,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  From hearts and homes will rise the prayer,
    Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
  "God bless our gallant men and true,
  And let foul treason meet its due!"
  That faithful hearts may welcome you
    Home again, our Hoosier boys!




CHAPTER XVI.

     Old Stonnicker and Colonel Marrow, of 3d Ohio -- General
     Garnett and his Dogs -- "Are You the Col-o-nel of this
     Post?" -- Profanity in the Army -- High Price of Beans in
     Camp -- A Little Game of "draw."


OLD STONNICKER AND COLONEL MARROW, OF 3d OHIO.

A Peculiar specimen of the "genus Virginia" had a great deal of
trouble while our army was encamped at Elkwater. Stonnicker's fences
and sugar-camp were used for fire-wood, corn-field for fodder,
apple-trees stripped.

Stonnicker's family were sick. One of his oldest gals had the "soger's
fever." He "guessed she must o' cotched it from either the 3d Ohio or
17th Ingeeana Regiment, as the officers kept a comin' there so much."

One day he sent for Colonel Marrow, and the Colonel obeying the
summons, Stonnicker said:

"Colonel, one of my children is dead, and I haven't any thing to bury
the child in."

The Colonel, a kind-hearted gentleman, had a neat coffin made; lent
the old man horses and an ambulance, and attended personally to the
burial, at which the old man took on "_amazingly_."

An hour or two after the funeral, old Stonnicker strolled up to the
Colonel's quarters.

"Colonel," said he, as the tears rolled down his cheeks; "Colonel,
what shall I do?"

The Colonel, thinking he was mourning over the loss of his
lately-buried child, replied:

"O, bear up under such trials like a man."

"Wal, I know I orto; but, Colonel, can't you do something for me? It
is too bad! I feel so miserable! Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"O, come, be a man," said the Colonel; "any thing I can do for you
shall be done, willingly."

"O, Colonel! I knowed it; I knowed it. My old woman allers said you
was a fust-rate feller; and, Colonel, ef you'll only pay me for them
two stacks of hay your men took from my field, I shall be mighty glad,
for I want the money."

It is needless to say that the Colonel's sympathies instantly ceased,
and, turning on his heel, he might have been heard to say, "O, d----n
you and your hay."


GENERAL GARNETT AND HIS DOGS.

It was said by the boys that at the battle in which General Garnett
was killed, a favorite dog of his was with him on the field. During
the three months following I saw not less than fifty dogs, each one
said, positively, to be the identical dog belonging to the rebel
general.


ARE YOU THE COL-O-NEL OF THIS POST?

I was seated one day in the telegraph office at Beverly. Prince was
the telegrapher, and he was communicating with some female at
Buckhannon, telling her to come over on the next train. While enjoying
a lump of white sugar dissolved in hot water, sent by Uncle Peter
Thomson, especially to cure my cold, a big, brawny Irishman entered
the office, and, as I was rigged out in the Secession uniform of
Captain Ezzard, of the Gate City Guards, Atlanta, Georgia, I was
mistaken for a general by the said Irishman, who accosted me much
after this style:

"Good mornin' to ye, sur. And how are yees dis mornin'?"

"Good morning, sir," said I.

"Sure, sir," said he; "are you the Col-o-nel of this post? for it was
him I was towld to ax for--for a pass to get to see my wife, who lives
five miles away from here, adjoining the white church, forninst the
first woods to the right as you go to Huttonsville."

As soon as he finished his speech I informed him I was not the
Col-o-nel, but that Colonel William Bosley was the gentleman he must
see. I told him, moreover, that "the Colonel was a very cross man;
very strict in his discipline: if he didn't approach him "just so," he
would very likely refuse any pass, and kick him into the bargain."

"Thank you, sur; thank you, sur. O, but I'll approach him right. Never
fear me!"

I pointed him to the marquee, in front of which was a large stake, or
post, for hitching horses.

"There," said I, "you see; that's the post."

"Well, sur; plaise to tell me what I must do?"

"You must go three times round the post; make your bow; place your
hands behind you; walk to the entrance of his tent, and inquire, 'If
he commands that post?' Tell him you want to see your wife, and the
pass, no doubt, will be given you."

The Irishman did as requested. Colonel Bosley said he knew there was a
joke up, and humored it; and after putting all sorts of grotesque
questions to the man, he was allowed to go on his way, rejoicing.


HIGH PRICE OF BEANS IN CAMP--A LITTLE GAME OF "DRAW."

Beans were excessively high, one season, in our army. I have seen
Charley Brutton and Lieutenant Southgate and Captain Frank Ehrman, and
other officers, pay as high as five cents apiece for them. Brutton
said he intended to make bean-soup of his. Often, while I stood
looking at parties around a table, I heard remarks like these:

"Ten beans better than you."

I suppose he meant that his ten beans were better than his opponent's
ten beans. Then some one of the party, seated at the end of the table,
would say:

"I SEE THEM TEN BEANS."

Well, so did I, and everybody else about there. We couldn't help but
see them. Why, therefore, need he make so superfluous a remark? Then
the other would say:

"I CALL YOU."

But I didn't hear him _call_. All he would do was, to lay his beans on
the pile in the middle of the table, and soon they all spread out some
pictures and dots that were printed on white pasteboard. Then _one
man_ reaches out his hand and _draws_ over the beans to his side; and
he smiles complacently, and all the others look beat and crabbed. And
this they call a little game of _draw_.

Charley Clark and Captain Westcott say 'tis a bad practice; _and they
ought to know_.


PROFANITY IN THE ARMY.

It is astonishing how rapidly men in the service become profane. I
never before appreciated the oft-quoted phrase, "He swears like a
trooper." Young men whom I have noticed, in times gone by, for their
urbanity and quiet demeanor, now use language unbecoming gentlemen
upon any occasion. But here it is overlooked, because "_everybody does
it_;" but, to my mind,

  "'Tis a custom more honored in the breach than the observance."

Gambling, too! O, how they take to it! "O, it's just for pastime,"
says one. Yes; but it is a pastime that will grow and grow, and drag
many a one to ruin. Among the many ways that the boys have of evading
the law against it in camp is, going off into the woods and taking a
"quiet game," as they term it. Chuck-a-luck, sweat-cloth, and every
species of device for swindling are resorted to by the baser sort.




CHAPTER XVII.

     Hard on the Sutler: Spiritualism Tried -- A Specimen of
     Southern Poetry -- Singular -- March to Nashville -- General
     Steadman Challenged by a Woman -- Nigger Question -- "Rebels
     Returning."


HARD ON THE SUTLER--SPIRITUALISM TRIED.

The officers of some regiments will drink--that is, they can be
_induced_.

There was a sutler, a great devotee to the modern science--if science
it can be called--of spiritualism. The officers found this out, and
determined to play upon his credulity. The quarter-master was quite a
wag, and lent himself to the proposed fun. His large tent was
prepared: holes were made in it, and long black threads attached to
various articles in the apartment, and one or two persons stationed to
play upon these strings.

The party met as per agreement; every thing was arranged; the
credulous sutler present. While enjoying the evening, the crowd were
surprised to see things jumping around; a tumbler was jerked off a
table, no one near it; clothing lifted up from the line running
through the length of the tent. Some one suggested "spirits." All
acknowledged the mystery, while some would, and others would not,
accept the spiritual hypothesis as a correct solution. The matter
must be tested, and the sutler was appointed chief interrogator.

"If," said he, "there are really spirits, why can they not prove it,
by knocking this candlestick from my hand?"

"Why can't they?" echoed others.

And, sure enough, no sooner said than done, and done so quickly that
no one but the performer was the wiser, whose knuckles, he said,
pained him for a week afterward. Another of the party said to the
spirit, "Fire a pistol."

Bang! was the reply.

The sutler became terrified. Again it was agreed that they should try
questioning by the rapping process. The sutler proceeded:

"Are there any spirits present?"

Rap! rap! rap!

"Is it the spirit of a deceased relative?"

Rap! rap! rap!

"Whose relative is it? The Quarter-master's?"

Rap.

"The Adjutant's?"

Rap.

"Mine?"

Rap! rap! rap!

Here the sutler was requested to ask if there was anybody in the room
who had committed any crime. The question was asked, and

Rap! rap! rap! was the reply.

"Is it the Quarter-master?"

Rap.

"Is it the Colonel?"

Rap!

"Is it the Adjutant?"

Rap!

"Is it the Surgeon?"

Rap!

"Is it m-m-e?"

Rap! rap! rap!

"O yes; I know it!" exclaimed the conscience-stricken sutler. (The
first case of the kind I ever knew.) "O yes; I confess I was a
Methodist class-leader, and now, here I am, drinking whisky, and
selling it, and getting three prices from the boys for every thing I
sell. O! I'll go and pray!" And he accordingly departed. The sutler
reported, in the morning, that he had prayed, and felt much relieved.
It so wrought upon his mind that the joke had to be explained to him,
to prevent his being driven to distraction.


A SPECIMEN OF SOUTHERN POETRY.

From the appended exquisite gem of "Southern poetry," it will be seen
that they wish to raise the black flag. Well, _why don't they raise
it?_ Let us hope that for every black flag they raise, Uncle Abraham
will raise a _black regiment_. It is from the Chattanooga _Rebel_, and
is entitled


  THE BLACK FLAG.

  Raise now the sable flag! high let it wave
  O'er all Secessia's hills and flowery vales,
  And on its sable folds the motto trace,
  "For victory or death!" The hated foe
  Have gathered in our lovely land, and trod,
  With desecrating steps, our State's proud Capital.
  They've pillaged in our cities, burned our homes,
  Exiled our stanch, true-hearted patriots,
  Arrested loyal citizens, and sent
  Them to those hungry bastiles of the North,
  The ignominious "Chase" and "Johnson's Isle."
  Our clergy--God's anointed--who refused
  To take a black, obnoxious oath, to perjure
  Their own souls, they placed in "durance vile."
  The noble daughters of the "sunny South,"
  Whose hearts were with their country's cause, they forced
  To yield obedience to their hated laws,
  Nor heeded cries of pity; whether from
  Matron staid, beseeching them to leave her,
  For her little ones, her own meat and bread;
  Or from the bright-eyed boy, with manly grace,
  Who brooks, with sorrowing looks, the insults she
  Is forced to bear, and dares not to resent;
  Or from the gray-haired sire, whose cord of life
  Is nearly loosed, who, in enfeebled tones,
  Prays them to cease their vexing raids, and let
  An old man die in peace. Nor will they list
  To maiden fair, whose virtue is their goal.
  They've desolated every home where once
  Abundance bloomed, and with the weapons of
  A warrior (?)--fire and theft--have laid our homes
  In ashes, plundered their effects, and sworn
  Th' extermination of Secessia's sons.
  Then raise the ebon flag! with Spring's warm breath
  Let it unfurl its night-like folds, and wave
  Where noble "Freeman" fills a martyr's grave.
  Then strike! but not for booty, soldiers brave;
  Fight to defend your liberties and homes--
  The joy it gives to see the Vandals fall,
  And catch the music of their dying groans.
  Go! burn their cities, scourge their fertile lands;
  Teach them retaliation; plow their fields,
  And slay by thousands with your iron hail;
  Scorn every treaty, every Yankee clan.
  Defy with Spartan courage. _Vengeance_ stamp
  Upon your bayonets; and let the hills and
  Vales resound with _Blood_--your battle-cry.


SINGULAR.

Civilians are often puzzled, in reading reports of battles, to
understand how it is that a thousand troops in a body can "stand the
galling fire of the enemy" for an hour or more, and come out with but
two or three killed and half a dozen wounded; or how they can "mow
down the enemy at every shot" for a long time, and yet not kill over a
dozen or so of them. Every thing that is done now-a-days is a complete
"rout;" all the enemy's camp equipage, guns, ammunition, etc., are
taken. Will somebody wiser than I am please explain?


THE MODERN TROUBADOUR.

A Camp Song.

  Gaily the bully boy smoked his cigar,
  As he was hastening off for the war;
  Singing--"To Secesh land, thither I go:
  Rebuels! rebuels! fight all you know!"

  'Lize for the bully boy gave nary weep,
  Knowing full well he'd his promise keep,
  And make her his little wife; so this was her song--
  "Bully boy! bully boy! come right along!"


                    In Camp, Near Tennessee Line, _October 7, 1862_.

At five o'clock this morning struck tents at camp, a few miles this
side of Bowling Green, and were on the march for "any place where
ordered." I am thus indefinite, because the publication of the
"ultimate destination" is contraband news. Yesterday we were encamped
in a wildly picturesque part of Kentucky--_intensely_ rocky--abounding
in caverns and subterranean streams; to-day we marched through what
has been a delightful country, beautifully rolling land, and
highly-cultivated farms; but now, what a sad picture is presented!
Scarce a fence standing; no evidences of industry; all is desolation,
and the demon of devastation seems to have stalked through the entire
State with unchecked speed--houses burned, roads neglected, farms
destroyed, in fact, nothing but desolation staring you in the face,
turn which way you will.

Early this morning the road was very dusty, but by nine o'clock we had
a splendid representation of "Bonaparte crossing the Alps," minus the
Alps, and nothing but active marching kept the boys from feeling the
extra keenness of old Winter's breath. Still, the boys trudged merrily
on, feeling confident the present march is not to be fruitless in its
results, as preceding ones have been. This campaign now presents an
active appearance, every thing indicating a head to conceive and the
will to do.

At three o'clock to-day we passed through the neat-looking town of
Franklin. It looks very new, most of the houses being substantial
bricks. Here we met General Fry, the man who _slewed_ Zollicoffer. The
General is of plain, unostentatious appearance, a keen eye, lips
compressed, the whole countenance denoting determination and quickness
of perception.


GENERAL STEADMAN CHALLENGED BY A WOMAN.

Riding along to-day with General Steadman, who, in his province as
commander of this brigade, had called at the dwellings on the
road-side, to see about the sick soldiers left in the houses, the
General knocked at a door, and a voice within yelled "Come in."
Obeying the injunction, he opened the door, and inquired how many men
were there, and, also, if they had the requisite attention shown them.
After a few minutes' talk with the soldiers, General Steadman entered
into conversation with Mr. Reynolds, the owner of the property, who,
among other things, asked the General when he thought the war would
end; to which the General replied:

"Not till the rebels lay down their arms, or the Secessionists get
perfectly tired of having their country devastated."

This reply brought in a third party--old Mrs. Reynolds, a regular
spitfire, a she-Secessionist of the most rabid, cantankerous
species--a tiger-cat in petticoats. This she specimen of the "Spirit
of the South," of the demon of desolation, had bottled up her venom
during the conversation of her son, but could hold in no longer; her
_vial_ of wrath "busted," the cork flew out, and the way she came at
the General was a caution to the wayfarers over this road, at any
rate.

"O, yes! and that's all you nasty Yankees come here for, is, to
destroy our property, invade our sile, _deserlatin'_ our homes. This
'ere whole war is nothing but a Yankee speculation, gotten up by the
North, so that they can steal niggers and drive us from our homes."

"Well, madam, as it is not my province to quarrel with a woman, I
shall not talk to you. You get excited, and don't know what you're
talking about."

"O! but I'll talk to _you_ as much as I please. You're all a sneaking
set of thieves. You can just take yourself out of my house, you dirty
pup. You're drunk."

The General very placidly listened to the old termagant, and merely
remarked, "It was too cold to go out of the house just then; he
guessed he'd warm himself first."

"Get out, quick," said she, opening the door. "I'll let you know I'm a
Harney. Yes, I'm a grand-daughter of General Harney, of Revolutionary
fame."

"Well, madam, I have before told you I don't want to quarrel with a
woman, but if you have any of the male Harneys about the house, who
will give me the tenth part of the insolence that I have listened to
from the lips of 'one old enough to know better,' I will soon show him
of what mettle I'm made."

"Jeemes, give me your six-shooter," fairly shrieked the old woman;
"I'll soon show him. _I'll fight you at ten paces, sir!_"

The General laughed at her last remark; seeing which, she became
perfectly furious. Her sons and daughters begged her to desist from
such talk; but the more they cried "Don't," the less she "_don'ted_."

The family, by this time, had been made aware that it was a real
General at whom this insolence of tongue was being hurled, and the
tribulation of the son was great. The General, after thoroughly
warming himself, quietly walked out with his staff. The son followed
to the door, making all sorts of apologies for his mother--that she
had been sick, was peevish, and, at times, out of her head. I
suggested to him, that I didn't think she would _be so apt to go out
of her head if John Morgan had come along_, instead of a Union man.

Lucky for that house and its inmates that the 9th Ohio, or any of
General Steadman's command, were not apprised of the proceedings. The
General, in the kindness of his heart, and for the sake of the
soldiers quartered there, placed a guard around her house, to prevent
her being troubled in the least while the regiments were passing.




CHAPTER XVIII.

     Going into Battle -- Letter to the Secesh -- General
     Garfield, Major-General Rosecrans's Chief of Staff --
     General Lew Wallace -- The Siege of Cincinnati -- Parson
     Brownlow -- Colonel Charles Anderson.


GOING INTO BATTLE.

Many wonder if men wear their coats and knapsacks, and carry blankets,
when going into battle. That depends upon circumstances. Sometimes,
when marching, they find themselves in battle when they least expect
it. Upon such occasions, soldiers drop every thing that is likely to
incommode them, and trust to luck for the future.

Many wonder if regiments fire regularly, in volleys, or whether each
man loads and fires as fast as he can. That, also, depends upon
circumstances. Except when the enemy is near, the regiments fire only
at the command of their officers.

You hear a drop, drop, drop, as a few of the skirmishers fire,
followed by a rattle and a roll, which sounds like the falling of a
building, just as you may have heard the brick walls at a fire.

Sometimes, when a body of the enemy's cavalry are sweeping down upon a
regiment to cut it to pieces, the men form in a square, with the
officers and musicians in the center. The front rank stand with
bayonets charged, while the second rank fires as fast as it can.
Sometimes they form in four ranks deep--the two front ones kneeling,
with their bayonets charged, so that, if the enemy should come upon
them, they would run against a picket-fence of bayonets. When they
form this way, the other two ranks load and fire as fast as they can.
Then the roar is terrific, and many a horse and rider go down before
the terrible storm of leaden hail.


LETTER TO THE SECESH.

My Dear Rebs: Having just learned that Vicksburg has gone up--Port
Hudson caved--Jackson surrendered--Bragg unwell--I thought I would ask
you a few questions, for instance:

How are you, any how?

How does "dying in the last ditch" agree with your general health?

How is the Constitution down your way?

Do you think there is any Government?

How is King Kotting?

Is Yancey well and able to hold his oats?

Has Buckner taken Louisville yet?

I understand Tilghman _has quit_ hanging Union men.

Is Floyd still _rifling_ cannon, and other small arms?

How is the Southern heart?

Are you still able to whip five to one?

What is your opinion of the Dutch race?

When will England and France recognize you?

What have you done with the provisional government of Kentucky?

Where is the Louisville-Bowling-Green-Nashville-Atlanta _Courier_
published now? Say--

What do you think of yourselves any how?

A prompt answer will relieve many anxious hearts.

                              Yours, in a horn,

                                        A Lincoln Man.


GENERAL GARFIELD, MAJOR-GENERAL ROSECRANS'S CHIEF OF STAFF.

The rather brilliant career of the General is worthy of a more
extended notice than I have room for.

General Garfield was born in Cuyahoga County, Ohio, in 1831. It is
said that, in his early love of freedom, he formed a strong attachment
for horses, and, to gratify this feeling, he ran away from home and
became a driver on the canal. Possessing remarkable endurance, and
great strength, with no small amount of combative spirit, he soon
became a "shoulder-hitter," whipping all opponents who were any way
near his own age, and becoming a terror to the quarrelsome rowdies who
had previously ruled the ditch.

During the hight of his wild career he attended a revival meeting,
became converted, found new and wealthy friends, who supplied him with
funds to attend college, and, in 1856, he graduated at William's
College, Massachusetts, with the highest honors.

Returning to Ohio, he at once settled as a clergyman and president of
the college at Hiram, Portage County. He here became very popular as
an eloquent divine, as a lecturer before lyceums, and as a profound
scholar. The success of his school was without a precedent. Two years
ago he was elected, by an immense majority, as a member of the State
Senate. At the first call for troops, he at once entered the field,
and rallied round him some of the ablest boys to be found in the
State.

General Garfield is what would be called, by ladies, a really handsome
man; has large, blue eyes, an expressive mouth, the outlines of which
denote good nature. It was prophesied at once, after his enlistment,
that, "Let Rev. Mr. Garfield have a chance at the rebels, and he would
die in the field, or win a victory." He has, at all times, so far,
been on the winning side.

Humphrey Marshall--the barn-door of the Southern Confederacy--it is
said, once beat General Garfield, during the early Kentucky campaign.
Marshall was in a trap, and, wanting a little time, called upon
Garfield with a white flag, who was commanding a brigade, and asked--

"Is there no way to settle this without fighting?"

"No, sir," said Garfield, "none but to fight--_somebody_ has got to
get hurt."

But Marshall didn't see it in that light--retired to consult--and, in
the mean time, beat a hasty retreat, and thus beat _Garfield_.


GENERAL LEW WALLACE.

General Lew Wallace was formerly colonel of the 11th Indiana
(three-months men,) known as Zouaves, who were noted for their daring
bravery and dash. When the regiment returned to Indiana to be
reorganized for the war, General Wallace remained quiet a few days,
when the trouble in Missouri aroused his energies, and he issued a
spirited call to his fellow-citizens, which was responded to with the
greatest enthusiasm. They flocked to his standard, and were sent to
the Department of Missouri, and thence to Paducah, after which he was
promoted to a generalship in the division of General C. F. Smith.

General Wallace made himself a legion of friends in his able
management of affairs during the memorable siege of Cincinnati by the
rebels. At a public meeting in Columbus, Ohio, a _Flagg_ was raised,
and the following war poem recited:


THE SIEGE OF CINCINNATI.

    Who saved our city, when the foe
    Swore in his wrath to lay it low,
    And turned to joy our tears of woe?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    Who taught us how to cock the gun,
    And aim it straight, and never run,
    And made us heroes, every one?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    And told us how to face and wheel,
    Or charge ahead with pointed steel,
    While cannon thundered, peal on peal?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    Who, when all in bed did sleep,
    About us watch and ward did keep,
    Like watch-dog round a flock of sheep?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    Who made us all, at his commands,
    With fainting hearts and blistering hands,
    Dig in the trench with contrabands?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    Who would have led us, warriors plucky,
    To bloody fields far in Kentucky?
    But Wright said, No!--and that was lucky?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    Who sat his prancing steed astraddle,
    Upon a silver-mounted saddle,
    And saw the enemy skedaddle?
                                   Lew Wallace.

    And who, "wha hae wi' Wallace" fed,
    On pork and beans and army bread,
    Will e'er forget, when he is dead,
                                   Lew Wallace?


PARSON BROWNLOW.

The Knoxville _Register_ thus laments the release of the Parson from
the prison of that city:

"In brief, Brownlow has preached at every church and school-house,
made stump-speeches at every crossroad, and knows every man, woman,
and child, and their fathers and grandfathers before them, in East
Tennessee. As a Methodist circuit-preacher, a political stump-speaker,
a temperance orator, and the editor of a newspaper, he has been
equally successful in our division of the State. Let him but once
reach the confines of Kentucky, with his knowledge of the geography
and the population of East Tennessee, and our section will soon feel
the effect of his hard blows. From among his own old partisan and
religious sectarian parasites he will find men who will obey him with
the fanatical alacrity of those who followed Peter the Hermit in the
first Crusade. We repeat again, let us not underrate Brownlow."


The gallant Colonel Charles Anderson, of the 93d Ohio, in a speech in
Columbus, said:

"The South laugh at the little shams of the hour with which they
agitate us; but their purpose is deep and dark. They mean to carry
out their system of 'oligarchy' at whatever cost. Looking upon slavery
as I now do, having seen it from every side, and knowing that the
South intend the destruction of this Union--were I to stand before the
congregated world, I would declare it--I will hew slavery from crest
to hip, from hip to heel, and cut my way through white, black, and
yellow--nerve, muscles, bone--tribes and races, to the Gulf of Mexico,
to save the Union."




CHAPTER XIX.

     An Episode of the War -- Laughable Incident -- Old Mrs.
     Wiggles on Picket Duty -- General Manson -- God Bless the
     Soldiers -- Negro's Pedigree of Abraham Lincoln -- A Middle
     Tennessee Preacher -- A Laconic Speech.


AN EPISODE OF THE WAR.

During the early part of the rebellion, when the rebels were in force
on Munson's Hill, McClellan laid a plan to surround and capture them.
This plan was only known to McClellan, General Scott, and Colonel
Scott, a relation of the General, by marriage. As the troops started
out at night, for their assault, a signal rocket went up from
Washington. On their arrival at Munson's Hill, the bird had flown.
McClellan, being informed of this, immediately called on General
Scott, finding there Colonel Scott. He immediately said to the
General: "The enemy have been warned of our movements by a rocket;
they must have been so warned by one of us. Which is the traitor?" No
answer was given. McClellan then called on the President, and
mentioned the above facts, stating his conviction that Colonel Scott
was the delinquent, and insisted upon his immediate imprisonment, or
his banishment, or his own resignation. Then followed General Scott's
resignation, then his journey to Paris, and the self-banishment of
Colonel Scott.


A LAUGHABLE INCIDENT.

Considerable merriment and not a few immodest expressions were
elicited at Washington, one day, by the action of the patrol, who
perambulate the Avenue on horseback, a terror to all fast riders. On
this occasion they made an onslaught upon the darkeys, who, for some
time past, had luxuriated in the uniform of United States volunteers.
How the articles of wearing apparel were obtained by the contrabands
alluded to we have not inquired. The patrol rode up to each
unfortunate "Sambo" that made his appearance, and proceeded to divest
him of each of the articles enumerated, save where the bare necessity
of the case would not admit of such a procedure. Caps, vests, and
coats rapidly disappeared from "Sambo's" body, and were deposited in
the street at the feet of the horses.

"Take off your breeches," we heard escape the lips of one of the
patrol. The darkey grinned, then rolled his eyes, gazed at some ladies
passing, and then, with an astonished countenance, looked up into the
face of the patrol. "Massa," he said, "I aint got nuffin else on when
I take dese off." This was something of a puzzle to the guard on
horseback, and so, not wishing to shock the modesty of the street,
"Sambo" was allowed to depart with his linen and trowsers.


OLD MRS. WIGGLES ON PICKET DUTY.

"As for sleeping on a picket," said Mrs. Wiggles to the three-months
volunteer who had dropped in to see her, "I don't see how they can do
it without hurting them. Sleeping on a post would be a good deal more
sensible, unless there's a nail in it, which might be prejudicious
for the uniform. Every one to his taste, and such things as where a
man shall sleep is at his own auction; but nobody can help thinking
that either a picket or a post is a very uncomfortable place to sleep
on. At any rate, there isn't much room for more than one in a bed."


GENERAL MANSON.

Brigadier-General Manson was in camp at Glenn's Fork, Pulaski County,
eighteen miles from the scene of the Mill Spring battle, and, with his
brigade, made a forced march that distance, over horrible midwinter
roads, arriving just in time to engage honorably in the fight. The
gallant 10th Indiana lost seventy-five men. Its colonel, commanding
the brigade as above, is an officer of great bravery and ability. His
conduct at the battle of Rich Mountain, in Western Virginia, as
colonel of that regiment, and his experience in the war with Mexico,
constitute a happy preface to his late brilliant achievement. This
same 10th Indiana is fully up to the feat of rapid marches. At one
time, being detailed to go to Greensburg from Campbellsville, to repel
an anticipated attack of Secesh, the march was made by the Hoosier
boys in three hours, a distance of twelve miles, eight of which was
over a dirt-road that had had the advantage of a hard rain the night
previous.


GOD BLESS THE SOLDIER.

A young and beautiful lady of Louisville (Minnie Myrtle) says; "God
bless the soldier!" O, could we but look into the almost bursting
heart of the rough-clad, tired soldier, as he plods his way, weary and
worn, casting a glance, at intervals, to see one kind smile, to hear
one kind and gentle voice to remind him of home, and the "loved ones"
left far behind to the mercies of a cold and heartless world--could we
but look into that fond heart and see the aching void, we would clasp
that hand tenderly, and draw him gently to our homes, a welcome guest.
O, did you but think, for a moment, of the sacrifice made by the ones
you term "striplings," you would smother the thought before it rises
to your pure lips, and your cheeks would burn with the sisterly blush,
and your lips would breathe a prayer instead for the wanderer.

Come with me to yon snow-covered cabin. 'Tis a rude hut; but pause ere
you enter, and behold the scene: An aged mother, bowed in deep and
earnest prayer; and, as she prays for her jewels, a smile, not of
sadness, but a settled calmness, gives place to one of extreme agony;
her boys--she has but two, the pride of her declining years--both she
gave, as did "Abraham of old," a living sacrifice upon the "altar of
her country." Come with me to yonder habitation, not of wealth, but
comfort. Hark! What shriek was that which rent the air? A widowed
mother kneels beside the fatherless babe, and asks God in mercy to let
the bitter cup pass from her. Another sacrifice to the dark and bloody
ground! Pause, then, sisters, and give that thought not utterance.
Your lips should breathe a prayer for the friendless soldier. If you
have a brother, then love the soldier for your brother's sake; and if
you have none, the honest-hearted soldier will be a brother and
protector. But, O, for the love of God, speak kindly to the soldier.


A NEGRO'S PEDIGREE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

A full-blooded African, who was taken prisoner on the steamer Lewis,
on which he is now employed as a cook, in the service of the United
States, was encountered one evening by the surgeon of one of the naval
ships, who asked him his name. "Nathaniel," replied the negro. "Any
other name?" said the doctor; to which Sambo replied: "Why, de last
name is always de massa's name--Massa Johnson." "What do the people
say this war is about?" asked the doctor. Nat replied: "Why, sir, dey
say that some man, called Linkum, is going to kill all de women an' de
children, an' drive de massa away; and all de colored folks will be
sold to Cuba." Nathaniel then proceeded to give some new and highly
interesting particulars respecting the genealogy of the family of the
Chief Magistrate of the United States. "Dey say his wife was a black
woman, and dat his fadder and mudder come from Ireland," said he,
speaking with emphasis. The doctor indignantly refuted the aspersions
cast upon the family of the President, and disabused the mind of the
negro of the false impressions which he had received from the
Secessionists of the place.

One morning I accosted a contraband named Dick, who was employed in
the fort. "Have you any other name?" said I. "Dey calls me Dick, de
Major," was his answer. In reply to interrogatories, he gave an
account of his life. "I was born in Virginny," said he, holding on
the rim of a slouchy felt hat, and raising it at every inquiry. "Massa
sold me, fore I was old 'nuff to know my mudder, to a preacher man in
Florida. Bimeby massa die, and missus, she had a musical turn o' mind,
and swapped me off for a fiddler; but de people all got de laf on de
ole 'oman, for in two or free months the old fiddler died, and she
lost us both," and the darkey laughed vehemently.


A MIDDLE TENNESSEE PREACHER.

A Secesh preacher, who was elected to a captaincy in the Home-Guards
at Chattanooga, hearing they were likely to be called out, sent in the
following note:

"dear curnel i beg to resind my commishen. Being a disciple of Krist i
can not take up the sord."


A LACONIC SPEECH.

An amusing sword presentation took place one day in camp. The 78th
Pennsylvania presented a sword to their colonel, William Sirwell.
Captain Gillespie spoke as follows:

"Here _we_ are, and here _it_ is. This is a bully sword, and comes
from bully boys; take it, and use it in a bully manner."

Colonel Sirwell replied:

"Captain, that was a bully speech. Let's all take a bully drink."




CHAPTER XX.

     Union Men Scarce -- How they are Dreaded -- Incidents -- The
     Wealthy Secessionists and Poor Union Widows -- The John
     Morgans of Rebellion -- A Contraband's Explanation of the
     Mystery -- Accident at the South Tunnel -- Impudence of the
     Rebels -- A Pathetic Appeal, etc.


                    Camp near Gallatin, Tenn., _November 20, 1862_.

A trip from the tunnel to Gallatin, and back, is a good day's sport,
for it behooves all to be on the alert, to avoid being captured by
citizen guerrillas. A number of this brigade have already been
"gobbled up," while out hunting luxuries at farm-houses. This became
so frequent that the General in command issued an order prohibiting
the boys from leaving camp without special permission.

Folks at home have frequently heard of the strong Union sentiment
pervading Tennessee, but, "cuss me" if I haven't hunted in vain for
the article during the past two weeks, and, with no exception
whatever, save among the laboring class, have I found an out-and-out
Union man. They answer with a "double meaning," when questioned, and
are _professed_ Union men while the army is here, and strong
Secessionists when the rebel army can protect them.

The fact is, all the true Union men have been driven by the merciless
foe into the woods--at any rate from their homes. Acts of the most
fiendish barbarity have been committed, and the aiders and abettors
are within a few miles of this camp, unmolested, enjoying the comforts
of a home, while the true patriot, driven from his family to the hills
of his native State, is

  "Unsheltered by night, and unrested by day;
  The heath for his barracks--revenge for his pay."

An incident occurred in General Fry's division a few days since. Two
of the 2d Minnesota Regiment, John A. Smith and Mr. Mervis, both of
St. Paul, went out, by permission of their captain, in search of
butter and eggs. They took two good horses with them, and although a
week has passed, neither men nor horses have returned. The sequel
proves that these men were captured by armed residents of this
neighborhood, as yesterday a company were sent out for forage, and
with them a number of servants were sent for eatables. Arriving at the
house of 'Squire McMurray, a well-known Secessionist, who has two sons
in the rebel army, the boys made inquiries of the servants in regard
to their missing comrades, and found out they had been taken by a
party of guerrillas from near this very house. The old scoundrel
McMurray openly exulted over the fact, and thought it very comical to
have the "Yankees" jerked up once in awhile. "It will teach them,"
said he, "to stay at home." The boys wanted to purchase some chickens
and turkeys, but he refused to sell to "Yanks," swearing his turkeys
were not fattened for "Down-easters." Mrs. McMurray hurriedly came
out, and ordered all her black servants in the house, as she said she
didn't want her niggers contaminated with "sich white trash."

About two hours after this conversation the brigade teams _drove up_,
and soon _drove off_ with ten loads of corn and oats, amounting to
sixty dollars. 'Squire McMurray refused to receive a voucher offered
by the Quarter-master, and said they were of no account to him--it was
only a trick of the Abolition Government to rob the farmers; they had
already sixty wagon-loads, and he guessed he could spare a few more.
This man has a splendid farm, finely stocked with valuable imported
Cashmere sheep, some of them worth from four to five hundred dollars
apiece. This man is living in luxury, and upon ground that should be
occupied by the poor and devoted families of those who, by his
connivance, have been driven forth upon the world. Yet the great
shield of the law--the law he has so basely violated, the Constitution
he has, and yet does, openly defy--is made his safeguard. Is it at all
astonishing our men weary of this favoritism, this premium upon
traitors?

Let me tell your readers of what I was an eye-witness, a few evenings
ago. You that have comfortable homes and warm firesides, with no war
at your doors, can have but a faint idea of the horrors that are
broadcast over this once happy country. A poor woman came to the
commanding General of this brigade and begged for protection. She
lived eight miles from this camp, and the rebels had threatened to
burn her barn and house. Now, what do you think was this woman's
offense? Her husband had joined the Union army at Nashville last
August, and when, a few days afterward, he returned to arrange his
family affairs, the "guerillas" found out his return, and five of the
incarnate fiends walked into his house, and while he was seated at the
table, partaking of his breakfast, these men shot him--there, in the
presence of his wife and six children, these fiends, that our worthy
President deliberately "commutes," murdered their only protector; and
now, not satisfied with their former atrocity, they return to drive
the poor widow and her children from the desolate little homestead!

O! if there is one hell deeper than another, please, God, send these
wretches, who would persecute a poor woman thus, to it!

The General, upon hearing the story of her troubles, sent out two
companies of the 2d Minnesota Regiment to guard and bring into camp
her children, and what few chattels were left. Company A, under
Captain Barnes, and Company G, under Captain Keifer, were assigned to
perform this act of deserved charity.

It was ten o'clock at night, cold and windy, the rain penetrating to
the very bones, and dark as Egypt, when the two companies returned
with Mrs. Crane and her six children. One rickety wagon, a mangy old
horse, a cow, some bedding, and a few cooking utensils, were the
trophies of the trip. These things told a tale of poverty, but they
were all the poor widow of the murdered soldier possessed.

The children were all barefooted, and most scantily attired; the
little ones shivered with the cold, and the older ones wrapped their
tattered garments closer as the wind played rudely with them. A little
four-year-old boy eyed the soldiers with a side glance, and clung to
his mother, as she held her infant to her breast.

If I were to decide what to do in such a case, I would quickly turn
out Mr. 'Squire McMurray, and let Mrs. Crane and her little ones
possess the well-stocked farm. To-day the General is endeavoring to
get transportation to Indiana for this family, at the expense of the
Government.

An old negro resident near this camp, in conversation, a few days
since, said to me:

"Look-a-heah! all you white folks, when any debbeltry is done, allers
lay it to Massa John Morgan."

"Well," said I, "don't he do a large share of it?"

"Yes, he does do a heap; but, Lor bress you, massa, gib de _debble_
his due; he don't do de half what de white folks say. You see dat
tunnel, don't you?" said he, rolling the white of his eyes to the
obliteration of all sight of the pupil.

"Yes, I see it," I replied.

"Well, sah! Massa Morgan had no more to do wid dat tunnel dan you do
yourself. Morgan _warnt_ no way nigh dis place when dat was done; de
folks what lib all round here was de _Morganses_ what do dat work;
why, dey done toted rails for _free_ days, and packed 'em in dat
tunnel, and we darkeys had to help 'em, and den dey set 'em on fire,
and sich a cracklin' as you nebber heard, and in less dan a week
ebbery body all over de country was a-tellin' about how as _John
Morgan burnt de tunnel_."


IMPUDENCE OF THE REBELS.

"Here, sir, I've got an order for you," said an acknowledged
well-known rebel citizen, as he entered the head-quarters of the
General commanding the Third Brigade of the First Division of the
Ohio. From the pompous manner of the Tennesseean, the General didn't
know, for a moment, but that he was about being ordered under arrest
by the citizen. The General merely replied in his usual style:

"The hell you have, sir! Who is it from?"

"From General Fry, sir."

"Ah! let me see it."

The order was produced. It requested the General not to allow too much
of any one man's stock of corn to be taken. The General read the
_request_, and instantly inquired of the Tennesseean: "Are you a Union
man?" and as instantly received the reply of "No, sir, I am not."

"Then, G----d d----n you, sir, how dare you have the impudence to come
within my lines?"

The Tennesseean, seeing he had a man of the pure grit to deal with,
shook slightly in his boots, and did not put on so much "style," and
was about to explain something, when the General interrupted him with
a quick order to leave forthwith, or he would have a dozen bayonets in
his rear "d----n quick."

"But, General, how shall I get out of camp? Won't you _please_ give me
a pass?"

"Me give a pass to a rebel! No, sir. How did you get within my lines?"

"Why, sir, I just walked straight in."

"Well, sir, you can just walk straight out, and if ever I see you
inside my lines again, I'll have you sent where you belong; and, after
this, when you have any 'order' for me, if it is from General Halleck,
'or any other man,' don't you dare to bring it, but _send_ it in to
me, or you will rue the day."


A PATHETIC APPEAL.

I found the following "pathetic" appeal from the women of New Orleans.
It was laid carefully by, with a lock of hair, bearing the
inscription, "To Mary Looker, from her cousin Jane. Please send this
appeal to all our male friends around Gallatin."


     "AN APPEAL FROM THE WOMEN OF NEW ORLEANS.

     "To every Soldier:

     "We turn to you in mute agony! Behold our wrongs, fathers!
     husbands! brothers! sons! We know these bitter, burning
     wrongs will be fully avenged. Never did Southern women
     appeal in vain for protection from insult! But, for the
     sakes of our sisters throughout the South, with tears we
     implore you not to surrender your cities, 'in consideration
     of the defenseless women and children.' Do not leave your
     women to the merciless foe! Would it not have been better
     for New Orleans to have been laid in ruins, and we buried
     beneath the mass, than subjected to these untold sufferings?
     Is life so priceless a boon that, for the preservation of
     it, no sacrifice is too great? Ah, no! ah, no! Rather let us
     die with you! O, our fathers! rather, like Virginius, plunge
     your own swords into our breasts, saying, 'This is all we
     can give our daughters.'

                              "The Daughters of the South.

     "New Orleans, _May 14, 1862_."

[Illustration: Old Stonnicker drummed out of Camp. See page 284.]




CHAPTER XXI.

     A Friendly Visit for Corn into an Egyptian Country -- Ohio
     Regiments -- "Corn or Blood" -- "Fanny Battles" -- The
     Constitution Busted in Several Places -- Edicts against
     Dinner Horns, by Colonel Brownlow's Cavalry -- A Signal
     Station Burned -- Two Rebel Aids Captured.


                    Camp at Triune, Tennessee, _April 26, 1863_.

Last Thursday was a "gay day" for a portion of the Third Division.
General Schofield, thinking it requisite to lay in a good supply of
provender, ordered out one hundred and fifty wagons, to go on an
errand of mercy to our benighted "brethren of the South," and _borrow_
of them some corn, oats, and fodder, for Federal horses. Well, as it
is a recognized breach of etiquette to send such a train without
escort, therefore, the General sent a retinue, consisting of the 35th
Ohio, under Colonel Long; 9th Ohio, Colonel Josephs; 17th Ohio,
Colonel Durbin Ward; 31st Ohio, Colonel Phelps; also, the 87th
Indiana, Colonel Shyrock; and the 2d Minnesota, under Colonel George;
together with two pieces belonging to the 4th Regular Battery, under
Lieutenants Rodney and Stevenson. We went forward with the
determination of obtaining food--"peacefully, if we could; forcibly,
if we must;" but we had to use the rebel women's motto, lately made
public in Richmond, "Food or Blood." Our new commander accompanied
the expedition. We started, after partaking of an early breakfast, and
crossed Harpeth River about nine o'clock. I had forgotten to mention
that the 1st East Tennessee Cavalry were along: the rebels haven't
forgotten it, however, as they were ordered to the front, and, as I am
fond of seeing them "go in," I was appointed chief aid and
bottle-holder to the command under Majors Burkhardt and Tracy, and had
a splendid opportunity of seeing the "Secession elephant." After
passing through the town of College Grove, we commenced feeling our
way carefully, as we wished to make our visit a sort of "surprise
party" to the "brethren in arms;" as a matter of course, this was only
the "by-play," for while the Tennessee boys were unloading their
muskets, the teamsters were loading corn and oats from Secesh cribs.
They are excellent _cribbage_-players by this time.

As our cavalry advanced, the rebel cavalry fell back, declining to
hold any communication. Major Tracy and "ye correspondent" went off
the main road, in pursuit of knowledge, and came upon half a dozen
negroes working in a field. The Major introduced "ye innocent lamb" as
General Morgan, and demanded of the darkeys if any d----d Yankees had
been about there lately. The darkeys replied very evasively; would not
say a word that would injure the cause of the Union forces; denied all
knowledge of them or their whereabouts. There were some two or three
hundred fat sheep on the farm, and a good lot of cattle. I suggested
the propriety of driving them within our lines, but was astonished
when the Major told me it was "against orders" to do so. All the males
of the family who owned the negroes and _other cattle_ were in the
rebel army--the master and two sons. While talking there, we heard
firing, and so started for the fun, and soon came upon some of the
"gentry," yclept "butternuts." The Major had about twelve men in the
lead; a few others, with the colors, remaining a quarter of a mile to
the rear--the _regiment_ a mile in rear of the advance. When we
arrived at what is known as Tippets's farm, the rebels, who were
sheltered by Wilson's house, poured a volley down the road, and
without inquiring the cause of such unkind treatment, on their part,
this "individual" _retired_ some twenty yards. I have before heard the
sound of the Enfield-rifle ball, and have heard many persons say, 'tis
"quite musical;" but "_I can't see it_." The boys advanced in the most
daring manner on the open road, while the _valiant_ and "_noble
chivalry_" of Alabama kept continually retreating. In order to obtain
a better view of the fight, and watch the maneuvers of the combatants,
I went upon the side-hill of an open field to the left of the road,
and while quietly looking on, three rebs came out from behind Wilson's
house, and, without as much as saying, "By your leave," they blazed
away at me. Isn't it a shame that these fellows should act so? Why,
they "_busted_ the Constitution all to the devil," in firing at _me_.
The Major kindly rode up and told me, in his usual bland and benign
style, that I was a d----n fool; that "them fellers was a-shootin' at
me." I merely replied that I guessed he was mistaken, as I saw the
bullets _plowing_ the field some twenty yards in front of me. While
this conversation was going on between the Major and myself, the
rebels reloaded their guns and gave us another trial of their skill,
and settled the dispute at once, as I had asseverated; their bullets
would not reach that distance. The Major was right, for a little while
the nastiest shriek I ever heard came from that volley. The Major's
horse didn't like it much, and _cavorted_ like the "fiery, untamed
steed" ridden by the fair "Adah Isaacs." Then we changed our base: we
went toward the chaps, and, when they would get ready to fire, put
spurs to our horses and ran from them. This so delighted the "rebs,"
that we gratified them with two or three trials, and every time we
ran, they shouted and said _bad words_. After placing five men in
ambush, we retired, as if leaving the field, and as the traitors were
advancing directly into the trap of three hours' hard setting, the
Wilson family came to the door and told them to go back, as the
"Yankees" were in the orchard there by Tippets's house. The men were
then within two hundred yards of the ambush, and, upon being so
informed, hastily wheeled their horses and left on a double-quick.
This act on the part of a citizen rebel so exasperated the men that
Wilson was given one hour to get out of the house with his furniture,
as all houses used for military purposes, signal stations, etc., would
meet with destruction.

While the house was burning, the women boasted they had warned them,
and would do it again. One virago-looking Secesh asseverated, in a
voice of unearthly screechiness, that they had lots of "_Southern
friends_, and _millions of money_."

The citizens along the road will learn a lesson by this occurrence. It
will teach them not to make signal stations of their houses.


BLOWING HORNS UNCONSTITUTIONAL.

Another source of annoyance to our men was the frequent blasts upon
dinner-horns. These "quiet, peaceful" citizens, as our men advanced,
gave the enemy information by this _blasted_ method. Upon being
questioned as to the "cause why" they did so much blowing, they
replied, "They were calling in the boys from the field, for fear they
would get shot;" and Mrs. Tippets said, "'T was near dinner-time." One
of the men said he would like something to eat, and went in the house,
but no sign of dinner preparation could be seen. Major Tracy took the
horn from Mrs. Tippets, at which the lady (?) protested most
violently; said there "was no reason in that man," and asked me, "if
it wasn't agin the Constitution for that feller to take that horn."

I told her, in a _pacific manner_, that that was nothing; Tracy took
from ten to fifteen horns a day. She didn't see the joke, and I became
disgusted with her want of penetration, and left.

Mr. Wilson and a man who was in his employ were brought into camp as
prisoners. Mr. Wilson protested he didn't tell the States-rights men
any thing, and held that he "couldn't hender the women talkin'."

About four o'clock we commenced a retrograde movement for the "old
camp," and soon caught up with the big train, filled with all the
delicacies of the season, for the brute portion of our division.

The Miss Fanny Battles who is now so sweetly sojourning in the
Seminary at Columbus, Ohio, under the guardianship of "Uncle Samuel,"
was a resident of this county. Our troops were encamped upon the
Battles farm for a month. Miss Battles was very industrious in
circulating about the country. When she was taken, she had her
_drawers_ stuffed with letters, and was trying to steal through our
picket-lines. The _Secretary_ of State, or those connected with the
_bureaus_, will, we hope, see that there are no more such _drawers_
allowed within the lines.


THE DIFFERENCE.

At the house of a Mr. Bolerjack are the wounded men belonging to the
1st Tennessee Cavalry. I called there yesterday, and, in conversation
with Mr. B., he expressed surprise at what he termed the difference
between our wounded and the rebel wounded. He said that he had a house
full of Secesh at one time, but that they kept moaning and groaning
all night and day, and kept his family busy, while our men have never
muttered, but, on the contrary, are always cheerful, and only anxious
to get back in their saddles.




CHAPTER XXII.

     Reward for a Master -- Turning the Tables -- Dan Boss and
     his Adventure -- Major Pic Russell -- A Visit to the
     Outposts with General Jeff C. Davis -- Rebel Witticisms --
     Hight Igo, ye Eccentric Quarter-master -- Fling Out to the
     Breeze, Boys.


REWARD FOR A MASTER--TURNING THE TABLES.

The darkeys of Secession masters fairly flocked into camp on many
occasions. When near Lebanon, Ky., a bright darkey, very witty, kept
the camp alive with his humor. During the day some Kentuckians had
posted up in camp an advertisement: "One Hundred Dollars Reward. Ran
away from the subscriber, my man Bob," etc. Jim Duncan, the darkey I
have referred to, soon after issued the following, and posted it
beside the other:

     Fifty Cents Reward.--Ran away from dis chile, an' leff him
     all alone to take care of his-seff, after I done worked
     twenty-six years for him faithfully, my massa, "BILL
     DUNCAN." Massa Bill is supposed to have gone off wid de
     Secesh _for to hunt for his rights_; and I 'spect he done
     got lost. Any pusson 'turnin' him to dis chile, so dat he
     can take keer ob me, (as he allers said niggers couldn't
     take keer demselves,) will be much oblige to dis chile.

     N. B.--Pussons huntin' for him will please look in all de
     "lass ditches," as I offen heern him tellin' about dyin'
     dar.

                              'Specfull' submitted,

                                        Jim.


The poster created a great deal of merriment in camp, while the
residents thought Jim a very sassy nigger.


DAN BOSS AND HIS ADVENTURE.

All railroad men know Dan Boss, of the Pittsburg, Fort Wayne, and
Chicago Railroad. Dan was in Louisville, on Government business,
during the raid, with a lot of cars. Dan thought he would ride out a
few miles on the Bardstown pike one fine afternoon, with a friend, and
for this purpose hired a fine horse and buggy. Dan went out gaily, and
in fine spirits, jokingly observing he was about to reconnoiter. Only
ten miles from the city Dan was captured. The rebels demanded a
surrender of all his personal effects, which consisted of a rare lot
of old passes over all the railroads in the United States, several
"bottles," etc. Dan told them he was all right on the goose, and they
told him to turn round and go back; upon which Dan was delighted,
thinking he had deceived them, when he was accosted by several more of
the gang, who wanted to try the speed of Dan's horse. Dan begged for
the horse; said it wasn't his, to which the rebs replied, "Well! as it
is not '_yourn_,' why, we'll take care of it," and then drove off,
leaving Dan and his friend to foot it home.


MAJOR PIC RUSSELL

Says that, on the march to Louisville from Huntsville, Ala., he met
hundreds of stragglers from Bragg's army. One tall specimen of Secesh,
going back to his Southern home, the Major halted.

"Hallo!" said the Major, "where are you going?"

The fellow looked at the Major very intently, and replied, "Home,
sir."

"Where do you live?" inquired Russell.

"Lewis County, Alabama!"

"Why," said the Major, "you don't think you will ever be able to walk
all that distance, do you?"

"Well, I do," was his response. "I tell you, Major, I wouldn't take
_five hundred dollars for my chance_."

The distance to his home was over seven hundred miles, through
Kentucky, Tennessee, and Northern Alabama.

The Major told me it was a common sight to see them trudging along,
singing merrily, no doubt thinking of "_Home, sweet home_."


A VISIT TO THE OUTPOSTS WITH GEN. JEFF C. DAVIS.

General Davis I found an active, intelligent gentleman, with an eye
denoting great determination, and very pleasing in his conversational
powers; always on the alert, leaving nothing to subordinates that he
could do himself. The General's division commanded the Shelbyville
pike. I spent two nights with Colonel Heg, who had a brigade occupying
the most dangerous position. The 25th Illinois and 8th Kansas were in
his brigade.

Colonel Heg's regiment is mostly composed of Norwegians, or
Scandinavians. They are generally from, and are known as the 15th
Wisconsin; are a splendid body of well-disciplined men, and all speak
our language fluently. I heard an amusing anecdote of one of their
captains, who, a short time since, took a lot of rebel prisoners. As
this Norwegian captain had them drawn up in line, he said to them, in
broken English, and in accent very like the German: "Say, you fellers,
you putternuts, I vant you all to schwear a leetle. It do you goot to
schwear mit de Constitution. I schwear him tree year ago; now you
schwear him. Now, recollect, you schwear him goot; no d----n nonsense.
You schwear him, and keep him down, and not _puke him up again_!"

The 24th Illinois are close at hand, also the 8th Kansas. These boys
are in view of the rebels every day.

There is in the 24th Illinois Regiment a very clever officer who has
an intolerably red nose. He says he can't "help it;" he strives to
temper it, but it is no go. A friend inquired of him, how much it cost
to color it out here; his reply was, "$2.50 a canteen."

The "rebs" played quite a trick upon the chaplain of the 24th
Illinois. After they received his papers, they refused to send any in
return. This would have been termed a nasty _Yankee trick_, had any of
our boys committed such a breach of faith with them. But such is
Southern _honor_.


REBEL WITTICISMS.

The following is copied from the Chattanooga _Rebel_:

If it is true that General Marmaduke hung the regiment of armed
negroes at Helena, he certainly made a center shot at old Abe's
emancipation-insurrection scheme; for he "knocked the _black_ out"
every time he hung a darkey.

We do not know for certain that the price of negroes is going up; but
there must have been a slight _advance_ upon a regiment of them at
Helena, the other day, if the wires were correct.

Grant's permitting his dead soldiers to decay and create a stench
around Vicksburg presents the worst feature of the Yankee _die-nasty_
we have yet had to chronicle.

Richmond papers announce that Hooker has again, "changed his base." He
took it out of the saddle awhile ago, to go and tell old Abe "how the
thing was did."

The soil of the South is becoming so fertilized with. Yankee bodies,
that we will be able to raise nothing but wooden nutmegs after the
war.

The "typos" of the _Rebel_ suggest the necessity of the immediate
return of Vallandigham, and our finishing up the Yankee raid on
Vicksburg. Both exciting subjects cause too heavy a "run" on the
capital "V" box.

The Yankee officers who lead armed negroes against the Southern people
will have "a _high_ old time," for our boys will certainly hang them
"as high as Haman."

The Chicago _Tribune_ says: "There are already twenty thousand colored
troops in the Federal army." Does he mean the _blue-bellied_ ones, or
the black ones?

"_Breakers ahead" for Yankee merchantmen!_ The Alabama and Florida! If
they are not breakers to the ships, they will soon break all the
ship-owners.

The Yankee corpses lying around Vicksburg are becoming fetid as fast
as the living ones are becoming _de_-feated.


HIGHT IGO, YE ECCENTRIC QUARTER-MASTER.

Everybody in the Third Division of Crittenden's corps knows the
Quarter-master of the 35th Indiana, Hight Igo; in fact, his fame is
not confined to General Van Cleve's division. No, sir! not by any
means! His eccentricities are the theme of conversation from Triune to
Stone River, from "Kripple Kreek" to Nashville.

His first introduction to the favorable notice of high military
authority occurred at Louisville. Shortly after the gallant 35th came
into service, he stopped General Wood one day in the streets of
Louisville, to inquire upon the subject of "yarn socks." The General
informed him he never transacted business on the street, and suggested
the propriety of calling at head-quarters. A short time after this the
General met Igo on the street, and having heard something queer about
Igo's forage account, requested information in regard thereto. Igo
coolly remarked: "General, I never transact business on the street.
You will please call at my quarters, when I shall be happy to afford
you an insight into my affairs."

The next day a couple of the General's staff-officers called upon the
incorrigible Igo, to investigate matters, and they investigated "in a
horn." Igo remarked that, if they had waited until next morning to
make their report, things would have worked; but they foolishly went
into the presence of the General immediately upon their arrival; and
when they reported "Quar-hic-termaster Igo's busi-ness all-hic-sound,"
the General "couldn't see it," and dispatched another officer, who
could resist the blandishments of whisky-punch long enough to conduct
the investigation.

The result of this move was a rather tart request--from the
Quarter-master-General's Department--for Lieutenant Igo to send all
the papers belonging to his department to Washington, for adjustment;
a request which our friend complied with by heading up vouchers,
receipts, requisitions, etc., in an ammunition-keg, with a letter
stating that, inasmuch as the Department had a great many more clerks
at its command than he had, and were probably better acquainted with
the "biz" of making out quarterly reports or returns, they might be
able to understand how things stood between him and the Government;
confessing, at the same time, that he "couldn't make head or tail out
of the blasted figures." In due course of mail Igo received a
communication from the Department, informing him that if he did not
immediately send in his report for the quarter ending on the 31st of
October, he would find himself in Washington, under arrest. To this
Igo answered thus:

     Sir--Yours of -- date received. Contents noted. I have long
     been desirous of visiting the city of "magnificent
     distances," but have not hitherto been able to realize
     sufficient funds at any one time to gratify that desire; I
     therefore gratefully avail myself of your obliging offer to
     defray the expenses of my journey, and most respectfully
     suggest the propriety of your "going on with your
     rat-killing." I am, sir, your obedient servant,

                                        MARTIN IGO,

                    Lieutenant and A. A. Q. M., 35th Ind. Vols.


This closed Igo's official correspondence with the Department at
Washington. He had the "_good luck_" to be captured by Morgan last
fall, and, of course, Morgan destroyed all his papers. That struck a
balance for him for the quarter ending last October. He had another
stroke of good fortune at Stone River, on the 1st of January, in
having a wagon captured. Of course, all his papers were in that
identical wagon. He was very indignant that a battle did not take
place about the last of March, as that would have saved him a heap of
trouble. Do not think, however, that our Quarter-master has done any
thing that will not bear investigation, for a more honest or
conscientious man is not to be found in the Quarter-master's
Department; but Igo has a holy horror of vouchers and invoices, and
receipts all in triplicate; and small blame to him for it.


FLING OUT TO THE BREEZE, BOYS!

Dedicated to the Second Brigade, Second Division, M'cook's Corps.

By W. A. OGDEN.

    Fling out to the breeze, boys,
    That old starry flag--
  Let it float as in days famed in story;
    For millions of stout hearts
    And bayonets wait,
  To clear its old pathway to glory.

    When the first wail of war
    That was heard on our shore
  Re-echoed with fierce promulgation,
    Columbia's brave sons
    Then rallied and fought,
  In defense of our glorious nation.

    From East, West, North, and South,
    Their numbers did pour,
  Alike seemed their courage and daring;
    While boldly they stood,
    As the fierce battle raged,
  Each nobly the proud contest sharing.

    Those patriots have passed--
    They now sleep 'neath the sod;
  But _their_ flag shall be _our_ flag forever!
    We'll boldly march forward,
    And strike to the earth
  The fiends who it from us would sever.

    Hark! hark! from the South
    Comes a sound, deep and shrill--
  'Tis the sound of the cannon's deep rattle!
    Up! forward! brave boys,
    And beat back with a will
  The foe from the red field of battle.

    We'll rally and rally,
    And rally again,
  To our standard now pennoned and flying;
    And we swear, 'neath its bright folds
    Of crimson and gold,
  To _own_ it, though living or dying.

    Then fling to the breeze, boys,
    That dear, blood-bought flag--
  It must float as in days famed in story;
    For millions of _stout hearts_
    And _bayonets_ wait,
  To clear its old pathway to glory.




CHAPTER XXIII.

     Defense of the Conduct of the German Regiments at Hartsville
     -- To the Memory of Captain W. Y. Gholson -- Colonel Toland
     vs. Contraband Whisky.


                    Camp near Gallatin, Tenn., _December 14, 1862_.

After a careful investigation of the facts relative to the late fight
at Hartsville, having visited the battle-field, and having conversed
with numerous officers and privates who were wounded in that
engagement, I am satisfied that gross injustice has been done the
noble raw recruits of the 106th and 108th Ohio Regiments. I am not
biased in the least on account of their being Cincinnati men, although
I confess to a city pride; and I feel the greatest satisfaction in
telling you that those regiments acted in the most heroic manner. That
a few acted cowardly and shirked their duty, there is no doubt; but
that the entire regiments should bear the blame is very hard.

I notice the Louisville _Journal_ is particularly severe on the men
and officers; and, also, that W. D. B. "pitches in," and terms them
"Scott's Cowardly Brigade."

W. D. B. goes into _minutiæ_ in regard to Scott, who, he says,
commanded. He is entirely mistaken. Scott, finding the place a
dangerous one, requested, a week previously, to be allowed to rejoin
his regiment, and his request was granted. The Scott who had command,
and was relieved, belonged to Turchin's old regiment, and was their
Lieutenant-Colonel. Scott told Colonel Moore of the dangers of the
post, and Colonel Moore, feeling his weakness, protested against being
left there. The fault lies beyond these new regiments.

Why were three regiments of raw recruits placed in such a dangerous
position, with but two guns and a handful of cavalry? As soon as the
fight began, a courier was sent to Castilian Springs, a distance of
only five miles, for reinforcements. The brigade was sent, but arrived
too late. Instead of marching by column, on a double-quick, these men
were deployed as skirmishers. The 106th and 108th Ohio and 104th
Illinois held the ground for full two hours, until completely
surrounded and driven to the brink of the river, where another large
force of rebels awaited them. Yet these undisciplined men are called
cowards--these men, who bravely held the ground, against odds of three
to one, against the disciplined rebels belonging to the 2d and 9th
Kentucky, and under the immediate command of Morgan! Yet these men are
to bear the disgrace and receive the anathemas of the press, in order
to shield some imbecile officer!

I paid a visit to the hospital to-day, and I tell you it was a
pitiable sight to see a large room crowded with the gallant wounded.
They told me they didn't care for the wounds, but to be so maligned
was more than they could bear. One noble fellow read the remarks of
the Louisville _Journal_, and the big tears rolled down his manly
cheek, as he made the remark to me, "GOOD GOD! _is that all the thanks
we get for fighting as we did?_"

Newspapers may publish what they please, but here is a fact that
speaks loud in praise of the daring Ohio boys, and proves that the
106th and 108th fought well: it is, that Company G, of the 106th, lost
every commissioned officer, two sergeants, one corporal, and twelve
privates.

Colonel Moore, Lieutenant-Colonel Hapeman, and Major Wiedman refused
to be paroled.

Lieutenant Gessert, of the 106th, tells me he was present, a week
since, when a colored boy came to Lieutenant Szabo, of the 106th, who
was on picket. The boy stated that he overheard Morgan tell his master
he was laying a plan to "capture them d----d Cincinnati Dutch within
three days." The boy was sent to head-quarters, where he repeated his
story, but no notice was taken of it.

To-day, Dr. Dyer, surgeon of the 104th Illinois, who went over the
field directly after the fight, and assisted in dressing the wounds of
our men, handed me a green seal ring belonging to Adjutant Gholson.
The rebels had stripped the body of boots, coat and hat, and, fearing
this ring would be taken, the Doctor placed it in his pocket.

The Doctor says a rebel captain took a fancy to his (the Doctor's)
hat, and insisted upon buying it--swore he would shoot him if he
didn't sell it; and told him he went in for raising the black flag on
the d----d Yankees.

The Doctor quietly went on with his work, attending to the wounded,
while the rebel captain was robbing the dead.

I telegraphed you in regard to Adjutant Gholson's death. He died
heroically leading his command. His praise is upon every tongue. I
will send his body home on to-day's train.

                                        Alf.


The lines following are a touching tribute to the memory of one of the
noblest young men sacrificed in the war. Captain Gholson was a brave,
earnest, talented, honorable man, in whose death his many friends feel
a sorrowing pride:


TO THE MEMORY OF CAPTAIN W. Y. GHOLSON.

    'Neath Western skies I'm dreaming,
      This drear December morn,
    Of joys forever vanished,
      Of friendships rudely torn;

    Of the friend so lately taken
      From the heartless world away;
    Of the well-beloved warrior
      Now sleeping 'neath the clay.

    The links of youthful friendship,
      Unsullied kept through years,
    Grim Death hath rudely shattered--
      Ay, dimmed by Memory's tears.

    Thou wilt be missed sincerely
      By the well-remembered band,
    Who've proved, through endless changes,
      United heart and hand.

    Thy mother's pain and anguish
      Through life will never cease;
    The grief she's now enduring
      No earthly power can ease.

    A father mourns the idol
      Which God hath taken home,
    Hath borne to sunnier regions,
      Where guardian spirits roam.

    And for the grieving sister,
      Whose joyous days are o'er,
    There cometh gleams of sunshine
      From yonder golden shore.

    From the throne of God eternal,
      Where the angel roameth free,
    _He_ speaketh words of music
      To parents dear, and thee.

    To friends and weeping kindred
      He speaketh words of cheer:
    "Be ye prepared to meet me,
      Prepared to meet me here."

                              Lizzie A. F.


COLONEL TOLAND vs. CONTRABAND WHISKY.

"Volunteer" told me a good story of one of the gallant 34th Ohio and
Colonel Toland.

During their stay at Barboursville, the Colonel noticed, one day, an
extraordinary number of intoxicated soldiers in camp. Where they
obtained their whisky was a mystery to the command. The orders were
very strict in regard to its prohibition. After considerable effort,
the Colonel succeeded in finding out the guilty party. The culprit had
a little log hut on the banks of the Guyandotte River, and was dealing
it out with a profuseness entirely unwarranted. The Colonel sent his
orderly for Corporal Minshall, of Company G. On his arrival, the
Colonel said:

"Corporal, you will take ten men, sir, and go to the whisky-cabin on
the banks of the Guyandotte, seize all the whisky you find, and pour
it out."

"All right," said the Corporal; "your order will be obeyed forthwith."

The Corporal got his men together, and ordered them to string all the
canteens they could find around their necks. On arriving at the cabin,
they seized upon and "poured out" the whisky. After a thorough
loading-up, the Corporal returned and reported at head-quarters.

"You poured it out, did you?" inquired the Colonel.

"Yes, sir," categorically replied the Corporal.

The Colonel noticed a canteen about the Corporal's neck, and thought
he smelled something, and, looking him steadily in the face, repeated:

"You poured it out, sir, did you?"

"Yes, sir," emphatically replied the Corporal.

"And where did you pour it, sir?"

"In our canteens, Colonel," he replied.

For a moment his eyes flashed with anger; but, on second thought, the
joke struck him as being too good, and the pleasant smile so
characteristic of the Colonel wreathed his face in a moment.

"Well, Corporal," continued he, "I suppose that is some of the
'poured-out' in your canteen, eh?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, with the utmost _sang froid_, and, at the same
time, gracefully disengaging the strap from his neck, said, "Won't you
try some, Colonel?"

"I don't care if I do," said the Colonel; whereupon he imbibed,
saying, as he lowered the vessel, "Not a bad article--not a bad
article; but, Corporal, next time I send you to pour out whisky I will
tell you _where_ to pour it."




CHAPTER XXIV.

     War and Romance -- Colonel Fred Jones -- Hanging in the Army
     -- General A. J. Smith vs. Dirty Guns.


WAR AND ROMANCE.

During the late movement against Vicksburg the national transports
were fired upon by a rebel battery at Skipwith Landing, not many miles
from the mouth of the Yazoo. No sooner was the outrage reported at
head-quarters than the Admiral sent an expedition to remove the
battery and destroy the place. The work of destruction was effectually
done; not a structure which could shelter a rebel head was left
standing in the region for several miles around.

Among other habitations destroyed was that of a Mrs. Harris, a widow
lady, young, comely, and possessed of external attractions in the
shape of a hundred and fifty "negroes," which she had contrived to
save from the present operation of "the decree," by sending them up
the Yazoo River. But Mrs. Harris was a rebel--intense, red-hot in her
advocacy of Southern rights and her denunciation of Northern wrongs.
Although she had not taken up arms against the Government, she was
none the less subject to the indiscriminating swoop of the
Proclamation; her niggers, according to that document, were free, and
if the Confederacy failed, she could only get pay for them by
establishing her loyalty in a court of justice. Her loyalty to the
Yankee nation?--not she! She was spunky as a widow of thirty can be.
She would see Old Abe, and every other Yankee, in the happy land of
Canaan before she would acknowledge allegiance to the Washington
Government. Nevertheless, being all she possessed of this world's
valuables, she would like to save those niggers.

"Nothing easier," suggested Captain Edward W. Sutherland, of the
United States steam-ram Queen of the West, who, attracted by her
snapping black eyes, engaged in a friendly conversation with the lady
after burning her house down. "Nothing easier in the world, madam."

"How so, Captain? You don't imagine I will take that odious oath, do
you? I assure you I would not do it for every nigger in the South."

"But you need not take that oath, madam--at least not _the_ oath."

"I do not understand you, Captain," said the widow, thoughtfully.

"I said you need not take the oath of allegiance; you can establish
your loyalty without it--at least," with a respectful bow, "I can
establish it for you."

"Indeed! How would you do it, Captain?"

"Simply enough. I am in the Government service; I command one of the
boats of the Western navy--technically denominated a ram, madam--down
here in the river. Of course, my loyalty is unimpeached, and, madam, I
assure you it is unimpeachable. Now, if I could only say to the
Government, those niggers are mine"----

The Captain waited a moment, to see what effect his speech was
producing.

"Well!" said the widow, impatiently tapping with her well-shaped foot
one of the smoking timbers of her late domicile.

"In short, my dear madam, you can save the niggers, save your
conscientious scruples, and save me from a future life of misery, by
becoming my wife!"

The Captain looked about wildly, as if he expected a sudden attack
from guerrillas. The widow tapped the smoldering timber more violently
for a few minutes, and then, turning her bright eyes full upon the
Captain, said:

"I'll do it!"

The next arrival at Cairo from Vicksburg brought the intelligence that
Captain Sutherland, of the ram Queen of the West, was married, a few
days since, on board the gunboat Tylor, to Mrs. Harris, of Skipwith
Landing. Several officers of the army and navy were present to witness
the ceremony, which was performed by a Methodist clergyman, and
Admiral Porter gave away the blushing bride. She is represented to be
a woman of indomitable pluck, and, for the present, shares the life of
her husband, on the ram Queen of the West.


COLONEL FRED JONES.

I was with him on his last trip from Cincinnati to Louisville, and
from thence to the army. Little did I think it was the last meeting.
Noble Fred! He has left a name that will never be erased from honor's
scroll. A writer in the Cincinnati _Commercial_, who knew him from
boyhood up, says:

"He is a native of this city, and favorably known as one of our most
brilliant young men.

"Colonel Jones was a graduate of Woodward High School, of this city,
receiving his diploma, with the highest honor of his class, in 1853.
He then entered the law-office of Rufus King, Esq. as a student, and
evinced, in the pursuit of a legal education, a remarkable zeal and
talent. Two years ago he was elected Prosecuting-Attorney of the
Police Court, which office he held at the breaking out of the war, in
1861. It was but a few days after the first call for troops, when he
threw his business into the hands of a brother lawyer, and became a
soldier. He was first an adjutant to General Bates, but, in June,
1861, he received a lieutenant-colonel's commission in the 31st Ohio,
with which he went into active service. He was afterward transferred,
with the same rank, to the 24th Ohio, of which regiment he became
colonel in May last.

"He distinguished himself at the Battle of Shiloh, to which, indeed,
he owed his promotion. He enjoyed the highest reputation with his
superiors as an officer.

"Colonel Jones was about twenty-seven years of age, of fine
appearance, with a peculiarly happy manner and disposition. He was a
very fine _extempore_ orator, and possessed great military ardor from
childhood. The writer, a fellow-student, remembers him as captain of a
company of school-boys, at Woodward, which, drilling for pastime,
became very proficient in tactics.

"We can pay no more eloquent tribute to his memory than the mute
impression his history will impart. He is dead! Our city has offered
no heavier sacrifice in any of her sons, and parted with no purer of
the jewels which have been so rudely torn from her."


HANGING IN THE ARMY.

                    Head-quarters 3d Division, 14th Army Corps,
                    Murfreesboro, _June 6, 1863_.

William A. Selkirk, who resided in an adjoining county, murdered, in a
most brutal manner, a man by the name of Adam Weaver. Selkirk was a
member of a roving band of guerrillas. He entered, with others, the
house of Weaver, who was known to have money, and demanded its
surrender. Weaver, not complying, was seized, his ears cut off, his
tongue torn out, and he was then stabbed. These facts being proved to
the court, Selkirk was condemned to death.

At twelve o'clock, yesterday, the crowd commenced congregating at the
Court-house, eyeing with curiosity a large, uncovered ambulance, in
which was built a platform. The trap was a leaf, acting as a sort of
tailboard to the wagon. This trap, or leaf, was supported by a strip
of wood that ran into a notch, similar to the old figure-four trap.
Attached to the ambulance were six splendid horses. At one o'clock two
regiments of infantry, under Colonel Stoughton, arrived upon the
ground and formed in line. The ambulance and military then moved along
to the jail; the rough wooden coffin was placed in the vehicle, and
the prisoner then, for the first time, made his appearance. He had a
pale and care-worn look, and a decidedly Southern air. His step was
firm, and he got into the wagon with but little assistance. He was
accompanied by Father Cony, chaplain of the 35th Indiana. The
procession then moved off toward the gallows, erected a short distance
from the town, upon the Woodbury pike. The eager crowd thronged the
avenues leading to the place of execution--rushing, crushing, cursing
and swearing, laughing and yelling. Samuel Lover, the Irish poet,
describes, in his poem of "Shamus O'Brien," a hanging, thus:

  "And fasther and fasther the crowd gathered there,
    Boys, horses, and gingerbread, _just like a fair_;
  And whisky was sellin', and 'cosamuck' too,
    And old men and young women enjoying the view;
  And thousands were gathered there, if there was one,
    Waiting till such time as the hanging would come."

The morbid appetite depicted upon that sea of upturned faces was
terrible to think of.

By the kindness of Colonel Stoughton, I was given a very prominent
place in the procession.

General Order No. 123, from head-quarters, was read. The prisoner then
knelt, and was baptized by the clergyman before mentioned. After the
baptism was over, Rev. Mr. Patterson, of the 11th Michigan, made a
most fervent and eloquent prayer, the prisoner on his knees, with eyes
uplifted to heaven, and seemingly praying with all the fervor of his
soul. After Mr. Patterson had finished praying, the prisoner was told
he had five minutes to live, and to make any remarks he wished.
Selkirk arose, with steady limbs, and said:

"Gentlemen and friends: I am not guilty of the murder of Adam Weaver;
I did not kill him. I hope you will all live to one day find out who
was the guilty man. I believe my Jesus is waiting to receive my poor
soul. I am not guilty of Weaver's murder. I was there, but did not
kill him."

He then knelt down and joined in prayer. After prayer was over, he
stood up, and stepped on the scaffold again, to have the fatal rope
placed around his neck. While the rope was being adjusted, he prayed
audibly, and his last words on earth were:

"Sweet Jesus, take me to thyself. O, Lord, forgive me for all my
sins;" and again, as the person who escorted him was tightening the
rope, he said, "For God's sake don't choke me before I am hung." Then,
when the black cap was drawn over his eyes, he seemed to know that in
a few seconds he would be consigned to "that bourne from whence no
traveler returns," and said, "Lord, have mercy on my soul."

The words were scarcely uttered, when that which was, a few moments
before, a stout, healthy man, was nothing but an inanimate form. As
the "black cap" was about being put on him, Sarah Ann Weaver, the
youngest daughter of the murdered man, Adam Weaver, made her
appearance inside the square, and quite close to the scaffold. She
asked Captain Goodwin and Major Wiles the privilege of adjusting the
rope around his neck, but they would not grant it. She is a young
woman of about seventeen years, rather prepossessing and intelligent
looking. She stood there unmoved, while the body hung dangling between
heaven and earth. She seemed to realize that the murderer of her
father had now paid the penalty with his life. I asked her what she
thought of the affair, and she curtly remarked: "He will never murder
another man, I think." After the body had remained about fifteen
minutes swinging in the air, and surgeon Dorr pronounced life extinct,
it was cut down and put in a coffin. The assemblage departed, some
laughing, some crying, and some thinking of the fate of the deceased.


GENERAL A. J. SMITH vs. RUSTY GUNS.

Last winter General Smith's head-quarters were on board the steamer
Des Arc; he was in command of a division of Grant's army. One day, on
a trip from Arkansas Post to Young's Point, there were on this boat
three companies of a nameless regiment. Now it happened that these men
had rather neglected to clean their guns, which the sharp eye of the
old veteran soon discovered. It was in the morning of our third day
out, the wind was blowing terribly, and the weather unusually cold,
rendering it very unpleasant to remain long on the hurricane-roof,
that the General came rushing into the cabin, where nearly all the
officers were comfortably seated around a warm stove.

"Captain," exclaimed the General, in no very mild tone, addressing
himself to the commander of one of the aforesaid companies, "have you
had an inspection of arms this morning?"

"No, General," timidly replied the Captain, "I have not."

"Have you held an inspection of your company at any time since the
battle of Arkansas Post, sir?" sharply asked the General.

"No, sir; the weather has been so unpleasant, and I thought I would
let my men rest awhile," hesitatingly replied the Captain, already
nervous, through fear, that something disagreeable was about to turn
up.

"You thought you'd let them rest awhile? Indeed! The d----l you did!
Who pays you, sir, for permitting your men to lay and rot in idleness,
while such important duties remain unattended to? What kind of
condition are your arms in, now, to defend this boat, or even the
lives of your own men, in case we should be attacked by the enemy this
moment? What the d----l are you in the service for, if you thus
neglect your most important duty?" fairly yelled the old General. And
then, starting menacingly toward the quaking captain, said he,
imperatively:

"Mount, sir, on that roof, this moment, and call your men instantly
into line, that I may examine their arms."

"And you," resumed he, turning to the lieutenants, who commanded the
other companies, "are fully as delinquent as the captain. Sirs! I must
see your men in line within ten minutes."

It is scarcely necessary to state that the officers in question made
the best of their time in drumming up their men, whom they found
scattered in all parts of the boat. Finally, however, the companies
referred to were duly paraded on the "hurricane," and an abridged form
of inspection was gone through with. The General, finding their arms
in bad condition, very naturally inflicted some severe talk,
threatening condign punishment in case such neglect should be
repeated.

But during the time in which one of these companies was falling in,
which operation was not executed with that degree of promptness, on
the part of the rank and file, satisfactory to the lieutenant
commanding, that officer called out, in a most imploring strain, "Fall
in, gentlemen! Fall in, lively, gentlemen!" That application of the
word "gentlemen" fell upon the ear of General Smith, who, turning
quickly around, hastily inquired:

"Are you the lieutenant in command of that company, sir?" addressing
the individual who had given the command in such a polite manner.

"Yes, sir," replied the trembling subaltern.

"Then, who the d----l are you calling gentlemen?" cried the General.
"I am an old soldier," continued he, approaching and looking more
earnestly at the lieutenant, "but I must confess, sir, that I never
before heard of the rank of gentleman in the army. Soldiers, sir, are
ALL supposed to be gentlemen, of course; but, hereafter, sir, when you
address soldiers, remember to say soldiers, or men; let us have no
more of this 'bowing and scraping' where it is your duty to command."

Then, turning upon his heel, his eyes snapping with impatience, the
old gentleman gave vent to the following words:

"_Gentlemen! gentlemen, forsooth!_ And _rusty guns! Umph!_ The d----l!
I like that! Rusty guns! and gentlemen!"




CHAPTER XXV.

     A Trip into the Enemy's Country -- The Rebels twice driven
     back by General Steadman -- Incidents of the Charge of the
     1st Tennessee Cavalry, under Major Tracy -- The 35th and 9th
     Ohio in the Fight -- Colonel Moody and the 74th Ohio --
     Colonel Moody on the Battle-field.


A TRIP INTO THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.

                              Triune, Tennessee, _March 8, 1863_.

After a four-days' trip, without tents, we are once more in camp. Last
Tuesday afternoon General Steadman ordered Colonel Bishop, of the 2d
Minnesota, to take his regiment, a section of the 4th Regular Battery,
under Lieutenant Stevenson, and six hundred of Johnson's 1st East
Tennessee Cavalry, and proceed forthwith to Harpeth River.
Anticipating a fight, I went with the detachment. As we passed through
Nolinsville and Triune the few butternut inhabitants gazed with
apparent envy at our well-clad soldiers. About nine o'clock at night
we reached the river. Here the infantry bivouacked for the night; the
artillery planted their pieces in eligible positions, while the
cavalry crossed the river and commenced to search for rebel gentry who
were supposed to be on short leave of absence at their homes. Quite a
number of _citizen_ soldiers were thus picked up. Major Tracy, of the
cavalry, then proceeded, with a dozen men, to the residence of
General Starnes, and surrounded it, hoping to find the General at
home. But the bird had flown the day previous. The Major, however,
being a _searching_ man, and full of inquiry, looked under the beds,
and in the closets, and asked who was up-stairs. "No one," was the
reply, "but my brother, and he has never been in the army." Major
Tracy took a candle, went up, saw the young man, and asked where the
man had gone who had been in bed with him. The young man protested no
one had been there, and Mrs. Starnes pledged her word, on the "_honor
of a Southern lady_," that there was no one else in the house. But
Tracy turned down the sheets, and, being a discerning man, discovered
the imprint of another person in the bed, and, from the distance they
had slept apart, he felt sure it was not a woman. So telling Mrs. S.
he hadn't much faith in the honor of a Southern woman, under such
circumstances, he thought he would take a peep through a dormer-window
that projected from the roof; there, sure enough, sat Major Starnes, a
son of the rebel general, in his shirt-tail, breeches and boots in
hand, afraid to stir. It was a bitter cold night, and the poor fellow
shook like an aspen leaf. He presented at once a pitiable yet
ludicrous aspect. After collecting some twenty or thirty horses, they
returned to their head-quarters, this side of the river. At night, not
relishing the thought of sleeping on a rail, I had the good fortune of
sharing a bed with Lieutenant Stevenson, who commanded the battery.

As we anticipated, an early "_reveille of musketry_" awoke the party,
and mounting my sorrel Rosenante, I proceeded to investigate "why we
do these things," or to learn what the _quarrel is all about_.
Crossing the river, I caught up with Major Tracy just as he was
returning from his expedition to General Starnes's house. It was about
eight o'clock as we came in sight of College Grove, a little village
about a mile beyond Harpeth River. Here we turned toward Triune, and
had left College Grove half a mile to the rear, when we heard the
rebels firing upon a few stragglers of the Tennessee Cavalry. Major
Tracy promptly countermarched his battalion, which was in the rear,
and double-quicked back to the school-house at the town, and within a
hundred yards of the rebel cavalry, who were drawn up in a line, in
the front and rear of some houses, on the right of the road. The
Major, seeing they outnumbered him two to one, halted, and sent word
back to Major Burkhardt to reinforce. He then formed a line of battle
across the road, awaiting the other battalion. Just as it arrived,
Major Tracy thought he saw signs of wavering in the rebel line, and
immediately ordered Squadron E to "Forward, by platoons! Double-quick!
Charge!" and galloping to the front, along with Lieutenant Thurman,
away they go. The rebels waver, break, and now comes the chase. The
Major gains upon their rear, and brings rebel No. 1 to the dust, by
the aid of a Smith & Wesson revolver. The Major, now wild with
excitement, threw his cap in the air, and, hallooing for the boys to
follow, continued the chase. The race was fully a three-mile heat, in
which we captured fifty-nine rebels. Thirteen were _wounded by the
saber_, four very severely. There were not more than fifteen or twenty
of our men close on their rear at one time, and as the rebels turned
out on the road-side to surrender, the Tennessee boys never stopped to
make sure of them, but yelled to them to drop their guns and dismount,
and if they stirred before they returned, they would murder them.
After going as far as the few thought it safe, they returned to camp,
bringing the prisoners, horses, and various implements of warfare,
"sich" as fine English shotguns and the like.

This was certainly one of the most gallant affairs of the season, and
may be considered among the most successful charges of the war; for,
while not a man of ours was injured, fifty-nine rebels were taken, and
I saw more saber cuts that day than any time since I have been with
the army.

At noon, General Steadman arrived with the 35th and 9th Ohio, together
with another section of battery, under Lieutenant Smith, commanding
Company I, 4th Regular Artillery, and the whole brigade moved at once
across the river, and marched out in search of the enemy. We soon came
upon their picket-fires, the pickets having skedaddled. We rested for
the night at Riggs's Cross-roads, and continued the march in the
morning. By nine o'clock we met the rebels, drawn up in line of
battle, about a mile north of Chapel Hill. The Tennessee Cavalry were
in the advance; General Steadman and staff occupied the crest of a
hill, in full view of the rebels, and where we all could see the
movements of the butternuts; the 9th Ohio arriving, was immediately
deployed to the right, the 2d Minnesota and 35th Ohio and 87th Indiana
to the left, the battery taking the center. The rebels, consisting of
two thousand five hundred of Van Dorn's forces, ran helter skelter
through Chapel Hill, and turned to the left--the Tennessee Cavalry
again proving their valor by sabering half a dozen of the 7th
Alabamians. The rebels, as they retreated across Spring Creek, formed
a line, and gave us a brisk little brush; but our men steadily
advanced, driving them back, and, crossing the creek, were in their
late camp. We skirmished and drove them some three miles beyond the
river, and found we were within one mile of Duck River, eleven miles
within and beyond their line. Not knowing what forces might come to
their aid, the General did not further pursue them; but, on returning,
we destroyed their camp, setting fire to all the houses and large
sheds they had been using for shelter. A church, among the rest, was
destroyed, as it had been used by rebel officers for head-quarters. On
the return, a great many colored men, women, and children begged to be
allowed to come with us.

To-day, (the 8th,) Sabbath devotions were disturbed by General
Steadman ordering the 35th Ohio and a section of battery, under
Lieutenant Rodney, of the 4th Artillery, to feel the rebels at
Harpeth; so again I thought I might catch an item, and went to the
front. The impudent scamps had crossed, and were within four miles of
our camp. The Tennessee Cavalry drove them back across the river. The
rebels occupied a hill on the opposite side, adjoining the residence
of Doctor Webb. After several little brushes by cavalry, our artillery
opened upon the line formed by two thousand six hundred rebels, under
Patterson and Roddy, of Van Dorn's division, who were supported by two
regiments of infantry. They stood but two rounds from the Napoleons,
before moving off in disorder. Our line advanced, when, much to our
astonishment, the rebels opened up a battery from in front of Doctor
Webb's house, which was sharply replied to by Lieutenant Rodney, who
sent his compliments to the "gay and festive cusses," inclosed in a
twelve-pounder, and directed to Doctor Webb's house; it was safely
_delivered_, as we saw it _enter the house_. Again their four-pounder
belched forth, and one of their shots fell directly in front of the
35th Ohio ambulance, but luckily it did not burst. After holding our
position four hours, and driving the rebels back to their dens, we
returned to camp.


COLONEL MOODY AND THE 74th OHIO.

In the fight at Murfreesboro, General Rosecrans said the 74th Ohio
behaved nobly. After General McCook's right had been turned, the whole
rebel force came against General Negley's division, to which this
regiment belongs. After the 37th Indiana had retired, it being
terribly cut up, the 74th was ordered to take its place amid such a
shower of shot and shell as has scarcely fallen during the war.

This regiment did not leave its position until an order came from
Colonel Miller, commanding the brigade; then, slowly and stubbornly,
it came from that well-fought field, leaving many of its members, "who
never shall fight again," dead upon it. On the Friday following that
bloody Wednesday, they were "in at the death," in the triumphant
charge of our left. Its commander, Colonel Moody, is "the fighting
Parson" of the Cumberland Army. Calmly and steadily he led his men
into the seven-times heated furnace of battle, and,

 "As the battle din,
  Came rolling in,

his voice of cheer and encouragement was heard above its roar. Just
before they came into the whizzing storm, he said: "Say your prayers,
my boys, and give them your bullets as fast as you can." A conspicuous
mark, he was struck by balls in three places, and his horse shot from
under him; but he took no notice of the hits. Once, during the
thickest of the fight, he rode along the line, and was cheered by his
men even in the roar of battle.

Side by side with Colonel Moody rode, during both battles, the gallant
Major Bell, the new field-officer of this regiment. Ohio's 74th is
justly proud that she has the experience of a gray-headed Colonel
united with the "dash" of a young Major. This regiment has won for
itself a place among the "crack" regiments of our army; and General
Rosecrans told it to-day that he would have to call it "the fighting
regiment."


COLONEL MOODY ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.

The Ohio _Statesman_, speaking of Colonel Moody at the late battle at
Murfreesboro, has the following:

"Colonel Moody has been so long accustomed to 'charge home' upon the
rebellious 'hosts of sin,' from the pulpit, that he finds himself in
no uncongenial position in charging bayonet upon the rebellious hosts
of Davis and the Devil upon the battle-field. And, as in the former
position he ever acquitted himself right valiantly, so, in this
latter position, he is equally heroic and unconquerable.

"His escape from death in the late fight was so wonderful as to seem
clearly Providential. His friends and members of his church in
Cincinnati had presented him with a pair of handsome revolvers. One of
these he wore in the breast of his coat during the fight. A
partially-spent Minié-ball had struck him on the breast, pierced his
coat, and, striking the butt of his pistol, splintered it to pieces
directly over his heart, _but went no further_. The stroke was so
violent as to hurl him from his horse by the concussion, and he lay,
for a moment, insensible. Consciousness soon returned, and, mounting
his horse, he raged on through the battle like an enraged lion. He won
the most hearty congratulations from General Rosecrans himself. So
much for having one's life saved by a _bosom_ friend."




CHAPTER XXVI.

     A Wedding in the Army -- A Bill of Fare in Camp -- Dishonest
     Female Reb -- Private Cupp -- To the 13th Ohio.


A WEDDING IN THE ARMY,

And, as it is from the pen of the worthy Chaplain, J. H. Lozier, it is
perfectly reliable.

About as pleasant and romantic a wedding as anybody ever saw, lately
took place in this department. Immediately after the battle, a soldier
of the 15th Indiana took sick, from exposure in the fight, and was
taken to Hospital No. 5. Among the attendants there was a pretty
little "Yankee girl," whose charms occasioned an affliction of the
heart which baffled the skill of all the doctors, and they were
compelled to call for the services of the chaplain.

[Illustration: Debate between Slabsides and Garrotte. See page 303.]

There are obstructions in "the course of true love," even in
Tennessee, and one of these was the difficulty of procuring "the
papers," as there was no clerk's office in the county, or, at least,
no clerk to attend to the office. Again were the resources of the
General commanding brought into requisition, and again did he prove
himself "equal to the emergency." The following document, authorized
by General Rosecrans, dictated by General Garfield, and promulgated by
Major Wiles, shows how men get licenses to marry in those counties
in this department where martial law alone exists:


  State of Tennessee,
  Rutherford County.     _Greeting_:

     _To any person empowered by law to perform marriage in
     Tennessee:_

     You are hereby authorized to join together in marriage
     Joseph A. Hamilton and Francillia L. Bean, and this shall be
     your authority for so doing.

     Witness my hand and official seal of the
     Provost-Marshal-General, Department of the Cumberland.

                                        WILLIAM M. WILES,
                      Major 44th Indiana, and Provost-Marshal-General,
                              Department of the Cumberland.

[Illustration: Seal]


  State of Tennessee,
  Rutherford County.

     Be it remembered that, on this 12th day of May, A. D. 1863,
     personally appeared before me, Major William M. Wiles,
     Provost-Marshal-General, Department of the Cumberland, one
     W. T. Mendenhall, Assistant Surgeon of Hospital No. 5, of
     lawful age, who, being duly sworn, on oath says that he is
     acquainted with Joseph A. Hamilton and Francillia L. Bean;
     that said parties are of legal age to marry, without the
     consent of their parents or guardians, and that he knows of
     no lawful reason why said parties should not marry.

          [Signed]                      W. T. MENDENHALL.
             Subscribed and sworn to this 12th day of May, A. D. 1863.

                                        WILLIAM M. WILES,
                                    Major and Provost-Marshal-General,
                                    Department of the Cumberland.

[Illustration: Seal]


Now, therefore, I, William M. Wiles, Major of 44th Indiana Volunteers,
and Provost-Marshal-General, Department of the Cumberland, in
consideration of the fact that this county has been placed under
military law, and civil courts and laws, with their officers, are not
in existence, do empower John Hogarth Lozier, a regularly ordained
minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and Chaplain of the 37th
Regiment of Indiana Volunteers, to join in _Holy Matrimony_ the
above-named parties, and this shall be his full and proper authority
for so doing.

Given this 12th day of May, A. D., 1863. Witness my hand and seal, the
day and year above mentioned,

                                        W. M. WILES,
                                    Major and Provost-Marshal-General,
                                    Department of the Cumberland.

[Illustration: Seal L. S.]


Accordingly the happy pair, together with a large concourse of
officers and soldiers, and a delightful sprinkling of pretty Northern
belles, met on the battle-field, in a grove on the banks of Stone
River, on the precise spot where the bridegroom, with his regiment,
the noble 15th Indiana, fought on the memorable 31st of December. A
large, flat rock stood up prominently, and upon this the bride and
groom, with their attendants, and the chaplain, took their position,
while an eager throng gathered around to witness the interesting
ceremony. After announcing the "license," as above given, the chaplain
asked the usual questions as to "objections." There was a moment's
silence, in which, if any man had dared to object, he would have done
so at the peril of an immediate "plunging bath" in Stone River, for
the boys were determined to see the ceremony completed. The chaplain
then proceeded, in solemn and impressive tones, to perform the
ceremony, at the conclusion of which they dropped upon their knees,
and a solemn invocation being uttered, they arose, and having
pronounced them husband and wife, he introduced them to the audience.
Then followed a rare scene of unrestrained social enjoyment. The
mingling of shoulder-straps with plain "high-privates," and of "stars"
with "stripes," was truly refreshing. We observed three
Major-Generals, McCook, Crittenden, and Johnson, besides any amount of
"lesser lights," among the crowd.

I see, by a late Chattanooga _Rebel_, that the editor of that
"delectable sheet" is in grief because he has been told that Miss
Fannie Jorden, who resides near our camp, is about to marry Captain
Kirk, of General Steadman's staff. The _Rebel_ says: "We are sorry to
hear that the niece of the gallant Colonel Rayne has so far forgotten
herself as to engage to marry one of the 'Lincoln horde.'"

We have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Fannie upon several
occasions. She is a very nice young lady, and is not aware of any such
engagement. Captain Kirk is pretty good-looking; but, we rather guess
he is not on the right side of Jorden this time. If the young lady
marries, 'tis more likely she will emigrate to Minnesota than Ohio. We
sincerely hope our neighbor of the _Rebel_ will not have cause to
"come to grief." He had better mind his own business, and let the
soldiers here attend to the "Union" unmolested.

A strange family feud, quite "Corsican" in its character, came to
light some time ago, while we were at Cunningham's Ford.

There were two families, Bently by name, residing there. These
brothers had not spoken to each other for forty years. They nor their
families have had any intercourse whatever; never recognizing each
other, though they had resided side by side, farms adjoining. One
could not go to church, or meeting of any kind, or to town, without
passing his brother. While we were there, the elder brother died, and
he was buried by his children. The other family knew nothing of it,
until told by our soldiers. The cause of the estrangement was, that,
in dividing the land left them, more than forty years ago, one claimed
the line was drawn some ten feet too far south, thus losing to the
other about six acres of ground, the value, at that time, being about
twenty-five cents per acre. This feud is now an inheritance, we
suppose, to be handed down forever. Can't you send out a missionary?

Those who can afford it are now enjoying in camp all the luxuries of
the season. I received an invitation to dine out yesterday. The
following bill of fare was partaken of in a beautiful arbor:


     BILL OF FARE.

                  Mock Turtle Soup.

  Turkey.                   Roast Beef.
  Ham and Eggs.             Roast Mutton, with Currant Jelly.
  Radishes. Lettuce.        Onions and Potatoes.
  Custard. Lemon Pies.      Pound Cake. Jellies.

  The whole concluding with elegant "Mint Juleps," with straws
  in them.


In the 1st Brigade, under Colonel Connell, each company has a large
brick cooking-range erected, and their system is really worthy of
emulation. This entire division is supplied with fine fresh bread
every day. The division baker has three Cincinnati bake-ovens, from
which he turns out from three to five hundred loaves a day, besides
pies innumerable. It is under the foremanship of Mr. John Wakely, a
well-known Cincinnati baker. This arrangement is a great saving to the
Government in the way of transportation, etc.

I heard a first-rate story, which, although it did not occur in this
division, is too good to lose. A private soldier, named Cupp, who is
a German, belonging to the 1st Missouri Cavalry, and now one of the
body-guard of General Granger, was out to the front a few days ago,
and seeing a "stray rebel," "made for him." The chase commenced--away
went Mr. Reb and Cupp. Having the fleetest horse, Cupp gained upon him
rapidly, crying, "Halt! halt! halt!" every leap his horse would make.
But the rebel, bent on getting away, heeded not the call. At length
the Dutchman reached his rear, and, swinging his saber heavily over
his head, charged the rebel, and brought him to a "_dead stand_."

"Ah ha!" said the now excited Cupp, "how you vass all de viles? D----n
you, anoder time I hollers halt I speck you stop a leetle, unt not try
to fool mit me so long, you d----d rebel."


DISHONEST FEMALE REB.

A rebel sympathizer and his wife, a cross-eyed specimen of the _genus
homo_, came within our lines and delivered themselves up, to be where
they could get something to eat. Captain Parshall, of the 35th Ohio,
being Provost-Marshal of Triune, and supposing them honest refugees,
endeavored to secure comfortable quarters for the woman at the house
of Dr. Williams. Dr. Williams is a stanch Union man, and willing to do
all in his power for suffering humanity. The Doctor told the Captain
that the lady was welcome, but that his wife was away from home.

Captain Parshall had kindly provided quarters for the husband who, as
he was about going, gazed cautiously around, and eyed the Doctor from
head to foot, then looked at the woman with an "affectionate" stare,
and, with a long-drawn sigh, exclaimed:

"Well, Doctor, I guess I'll risk her with you."

In about an hour the Captain was startled with the sudden appearance
of Doctor Williams, much excited, who begged that he would have that
woman taken away, right off, as she was a thief.

The Captain went over immediately, and interrogated the woman, but she
stoutly denied the charge. The Captain, however, noticed a very heavy
bust where a bust shouldn't be with so hatchet-faced a woman, and
asked her what she had in her bosom.

She replied, that was common with her "every grass;" but the Captain
"couldn't see it," and indelicately placed his masculine fingers
within the sacred precincts, and drew forth two children's dresses,
one from each side; finding she was fairly caught, she begged for
mercy; said she didn't know what "possessed her," and declared that
was all she had. The Captain told her he would have to hang her if she
didn't deliver up every thing. She became frightened, and then
commenced the peeling of petticoats, shawls, chemises, pillow-slips,
etc., much to the amusement and contempt of all honest people.

Suffice it to say, the woman, with her husband, was sent back to
Dixie, to feed upon corn-bread and water, as the Union people of this
neighborhood didn't wish to be contaminated by such trash.

The Doctor's wife has since returned. She told me the story, and
declares she won't leave the Doctor to keep house any more, as she
won't trust him alone.


TO THE THIRTEENTH OHIO.

By Martha M. THOMAS.

  Our Fathers House is threatened, boys!
    The Union, grand and free,
  Has warmed an adder in its heart
    That saps its great roof-tree.
  We've sworn to hold it pure, boys--
    A first love's holy shrine;
  A home for all the homeless, boys,
    For "auld lang syne."

  Its foemen are our brothers, boys;
    But still we must not falter;
  Though dear to us those who offend,
    They must die by lead or halter.
  Our Father's House is ours in trust,
    From Washington's own line;
  The Union knows no Pleiad lost
    For "auld lang syne."

  The rafters of the old house, boys,
    Must never know pollution;
  Its cement was our father's blood,
    Its roof the Constitution;
  And though, like prodigals astray,
    Its sons eat husks with swine,
  And feel the rod, we'll kill the calf,
    For "auld lang syne."

  Then let the bugle sound, my boys
    And forward to the strife;
  We'll thrash our rebel brothers well,
    E'en though it cost our life.
  And when we've whipped them into grace
    And made each dim star shine,
  We'll open wide our Father's door,
    For "auld lang syne."




CHAPTER XXVII.

     The Oath -- A Conservative Darkey's Opinion of Yankees --
     Visit to the Graves of Ohio and Indiana Boys -- Trip from
     Murfreesboro to Louisville -- Nashville Convalescents -- A
     Death in the Hospital -- Henry Lovie Captured.


THE OATH.

By Thomas BUCHANAN READ.

  HAMLET--Swear on my sword.

  GHOST (below)--_Swear!_--[_Shakspeare._

  Ye freemen, how long will ye stifle
    The vengeance that justice inspires?
  With treason how long will you trifle,
    And shame the proud name of your sires?
  Out, out with the sword and the rifle,
    In defense of your homes and your fires.
  The flag of the old Revolution
    Swear firmly to serve and uphold,
  That no treasonous breath of pollution
    Shall tarnish one star on its fold.
            Swear!
  And hark, the deep voices replying
  From graves where your fathers are lying,
       "_Swear, O, swear!_"

  In this moment who hesitates, barters
    The rights which his forefathers won,
  He forfeits all claim to the charters
    Transmitted from sire to son.
  Kneel, kneel at the graves of our martyrs,
    And swear on your sword and your gun:
  Lay up your great oath on an altar
    As huge and as strong as Stonehenge,
  And then with sword, fire, and halter,
    Sweep down to the field of revenge.
            Swear!
  And hark, the deep voices replying
  From graves where your fathers are lying,
          "_Swear, O, swear!_"

  By the tombs of your sires and brothers,
    The host which the traitors have slain;
  By the tears of your sisters and mothers,
    In secret concealing their pain
  The grief which the heroine smothers,
    Consuming the heart and the brain
  By the sigh of the penniless widow,
    By the sob of her orphans' despair,
  Where they sit in their sorrowful shadow,
    Kneel, kneel, every freeman, and swear;
            Swear!
  And hark, the deep voices replying
  From graves where your fathers are lying,
          "_Swear, O, swear!_"

  On mounds which are wet with the weeping
    Where a nation has bowed to the sod,
  Where the noblest of martyrs are sleeping,
    Let the winds bear your vengeance abroad,
  And your firm oaths be held in the keeping
    Of your patriot hearts and your God.
  Over Ellsworth, for whom the first tear rose,
    While to Baker and Lyon you look;
  By Winthrop, a star among heroes,
    By the blood of our murdered McCook,
            Swear!
  And hark, the deep voices replying
  From graves where your fathers are lying,
          "_Swear, O, swear!_"


A CONSERVATIVE DARKEY'S OPINION OF YANKEES.

There was a large Union meeting in Nashville, and an old house-servant
of one of the most aristocratic rebel families, who hates
"Lincolnites" and "poor white trash" as heartily as Jeff Davis does,
was walking slowly along the square as the grand procession was
forming. Soldiers were moving about in great numbers, the cavalry
galloping to and fro, regiments were forming to the sound of lively
music, citizens and visitors thronged the sidewalks, children ran
about with banners, and thousands of flags fluttered like fragments of
rainbows, from the various buildings. The conservative contraband
paced slowly along, rolling his distended eyes in all directions,
apparently overwhelmed by the exhibition and bustle around him.
Approaching our friend, he exclaimed:

"My God! what are we Southern folks coming to? Massa said, a year ago,
dat de Yankees done gone away forever. Now dey is swarmin' about
thicker dan locusses. Dey runs dere boats on our ribber; dey is
pressin' all our niggers; dey lib in our houses; dey drivin' our
wagons, and ringin' our bells; dey 'fisticatin' our property; dey
eatin' up our meat and corn; dey done killed up mose all of our men;
and, 'fore God, I spec dey are gwine to marry all our widders!"

And, heaving a deep groan from the bottom of his continental
waistcoat, he shook his head in sadness, and passed slowly onward, to
the joyful chimes of the church-bells and the soul-stirring strains of
"Yankee Doodle."


VISIT TO THE GRAVES OF OHIO AND INDIANA BOYS.

Traversing the field of battle, near Murfreesboro, a few days after
the rebel defeat, I could but contrast, in my mind, the terrible quiet
with the terrific din and roar of battle of which it was the late
scene.

The _debris_ of battle is strewn for miles and miles. Thousands upon
thousands of cannon-balls and shell lie upon the field. The woods
present the appearance of having been visited by a tornado, and here
and there a pool of blood marks the place where some devoted hero has
rendered up his life.

The heavy cedar wood is nearly three miles from Murfreesboro, to the
right of the pike, going south. The rocks bear evidence of the
struggle, for thousands of bullet and shell traces may be seen. The
smaller branches of trees are cut as if a severe hail-storm had
visited the spot. Let us dismount and read the names of those soldiers
who fell here. They have been given a soldier's funeral. Ah! the names
here denote this as a part of the gallant Rousseau's division; for on
rough pieces of board we read: W. McCartin, Hamilton, Ohio, Company F,
3d Ohio; F. Burley, Hamilton; John Motram, Company I, Cardington,
Ohio; H. K. Bennett, Company A, 3d Ohio; M. Neer, Company D, 3d Ohio.
And close beside, a brother Indiana soldier sleeps--Joseph Guest, 42d
Indiana.

Just across the pike, on the left going south, is the grave of A.
Hardy, 6th Ohio; and opposite this is the spot where Lieutenant
Foster, of the noble 6th, yielded up his life, and was buried. Close
by is a log house, perforated with shot and shell. Here some of our
wounded sought shelter during the storm of iron hail, but were
mercilessly driven out by the shot poured into their intended refuge.
To the left of this house are numerous graves. Among them, Francis
Kiggins, Company K, H. Borrien, Company H, W. Keller, Company H, all
of the 24th Ohio; Alf Goodman, 58th Indiana; Noah Miller, 58th
Indiana; E. D. Tuttles, Company B, C. McElvain, Company A, Levi
Colwright, James Wright, C. A. McDowell, Company K; J. B. Naylor, H.
Lockmeyer, A. B. Endicott, Company A; J. Cunningham, E. Skito, J.
Reavis, H. Cure, Company D, all of the 58th Indiana.

Near this the 26th Ohio lost John Tagg, John Karn, F. Singer, and
Charles Bartholomew; Mark E. Rakes, of the 88th Indiana, and George
Kumler and William Ogg, of the 93d Ohio, are buried here, together
with John Van Waggoner and Lieutenant Black, of the 58th Indiana. And
still further to the left, along the Chattanooga Railroad, are the
remains of Elias M. Scott, 82d Indiana; near this, but across the
road, on the skirt of a wood, are Sergeants Potter and Puttenry, of
the 24th Ohio, Henry Allen, of the 65th Ohio, and Frank Nitty, of the
58th Indiana. Continuing our course to the left, just crossing a
dirt-road leading toward Murfreesboro, upon a little knoll, are the
ruins of a once handsome mansion. Behind an upright Southern
timber-fence, just back of the still-standing negro-quarters, there is
a beautiful cluster of prairie-roses in full leaf. The waving
branches, as they bend to the right, cover the graves of three
Cincinnati boys, two of whom I knew intimately. Go ask their comrades,
and they will bear willing evidence to the chivalrous bearing of the
two noble youths, Ally Rockenfield and little Dave Medary. Beside
them is the grave of W. S. Shaw, whom I did not know personally. I am
told he died while bravely doing his whole duty. The branches of the
same friendly rose-bush, bending to the left, cover the graves of
Captain Weller, Lieutenant Harmon, and Major Terry; all of the 24th
Ohio, forming a beautiful emblem of the unity of those two splendid
regiments, the 6th and 24th. Continuing still further to the left, we
cross Stone River, where our forces did such good fighting under
Crittenden. Just after crossing this stream, upon the first knoll,
beneath a large oak, are the remains of Sergeant Jacob McGillen, of
Hamilton. He belonged to the 69th Ohio. An incident in regard to this
noble youth was told me by a gentleman who knew him well. When that
noble man, William Beckett, of Hamilton, was doing all in his power to
assist in raising the 69th Regiment, a number of the "_Southern
Rights_" sympathizers tried to dissuade McGillen from joining--bidding
him to hold off until substitutes were called for, and then, if he
would go, they would buy him. He, however, spurned their base offers,
and enlisted; and, when crossing the river amid the leaden hail, he
received a bullet in his arm; he hastily tied up the wound, and,
though weakened from loss of blood, rejoined his command, and the
second ball piercing his breast, he fell. Nearly opposite his resting
place lies Captain Chandler, of the 19th Illinois.

I have been told, by those high in command, that more _individual
prowess_ was manifested upon this battle-field than any during the
war. There were more hand-to-hand encounters, more desperate
fighting--men selling their lives as dearly as possible. As to their
General, there is but one acclamation: General Rosecrans has endeared
himself to the whole army; they love him as a child should love its
father; and all are satisfied that, had it not been for the surprise
upon the right, and Johnson's defeat, the battle would have ended with
the total annihilation of the Southern army.


NASHVILLE CONVALESCENTS--A DEATH IN THE HOSPITAL.

On my way back to Nashville I called at the different hospitals, and
saw quite a number of the wounded. The surgeons were doing all they
could toward sending them home. Doctor Ames and Doctor Stevens, of the
6th Ohio, in fact, all the surgeons seemed assiduous in their
attentions to the wounded. As a matter of course, many thought they
were neglected; but there were so many to be attended to.

I met Major Frank Cahill. He told me he had six thousand convalescents
under his charge at Nashville.

General Mitchell was kept very busy, although but few passes were
given to any going South; but Lieutenant Osgood, his chief business
man, was up night and day, ready, at all times, to expedite those
going in search of the wounded Union soldiers. Lieutenant Osgood
certainly did more business in one day than many men, who are called
fast, could do in a week. To know that he did his duty, I will state
that Secessionists hated him, and Union men spoke in high terms of
him.

A young lad, who had been sick for a long time, died; his name was
William Stokes, and his home was near Dayton, Ohio. The boy had been
honorably discharged, but there were no blanks, and _red tape_
forbids a surgeon, no matter how high his position, to grant the final
discharge without the blank forms. For five weeks this poor home-sick
boy, only eighteen years of age, worried along, continually speaking
of his mother and home; but the inexorable law kept him there to die.


HENRY LOVIE CAPTURED.

At Bowling Green I met Henry Lovie, the artist; he had been grossly
abused by a party of a dozen butternuts, at a little town called
"Cromwell," (what's in a name?) They accused him of being a
nigger-thief--a d----d Abolitionist, and were sworn to hang him. His
servant, however, happened to have his free papers, and Lovie,
exhibiting to them passes from McClellan, Rosecrans, and other "high
old names," they were disposed to cave a little. "Our traveling
artist" for Frank Leslie took a horse for self and one for servant,
riding twenty-eight miles, fearing the butternuts might receive
reinforcements, and reached Bowling Green by early dawn, through mud,
slush, snow, and rain. Lovie wants to enlist a company to go and take
"Cromwell," and requested me to see Tom Jones & Co. in regard to the
matter.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

     General Steadman Superseded by General Schofield, of
     Missouri -- Colonel Brownlow's Regiment -- His Bravery -- A
     Rebel Officer Killed by a Woman -- Discontent in East
     Tennessee -- Picket Duty and its Dangers -- A Gallant Deed
     and a Chivalrous Return.


                    Camp near Triune, Tennessee, _April 24, 1862_.

I arrived in camp day before yesterday, and immediately reported for
duty.

Last night General Schofield took command of this division, General
Steadman having been assigned to the Second Brigade. General Schofield
comes to us with the highest recommendations for gallant daring, and
his appearance among the boys was the signal for a neat ovation. He
was serenaded by a crowd of singers, and, upon the conclusion of a
patriotic song, he came to the front of his head-quarters and made a
telling speech, which was enthusiastically received by his command.
General Steadman being called for responded, regretting to part with
his old command, but rejoicing that he had been superseded by a
gentleman and a soldier so worthy of the position that had been
assigned him. General Steadman assured the General that he had as fine
a set of soldiers as were to be found in the Army of the Cumberland;
men who had been tried and never found wanting; men whom he assured
General Schofield would go wherever ordered, and against any foe.
After the adjournment of the public demonstration, the two generals,
with their staffs, were handsomely entertained by Captain Roper, where
song, sentiment, and recitation were the order of the evening--Colonel
George, Colonel Vandeveer, Colonel Long, and other notables being
among the guests.

While thus enjoying ourselves, the General received a telegraphic
dispatch from head-quarters, announcing the capture of McMinnville by
our forces.

The command of the Third Division, we feel confident, is in vigilant
hands. Brigadier-General Schofield has heretofore proved his
efficiency in Missouri. His staff consists of Major J. A. Campbell, A.
A. S.; W. M. Wherry, Aid-de-camp; A. H. Engle, Aid-de-camp and Judge
Advocate; Captain Kirk, Quarter-master; Captain Roper, Commissary;
Captain Budd, Inspector of Division, and Doctor Gordon, Medical
Director.

The East Tennessee Cavalry still continue to prove their gallantry. I
spent a pleasant afternoon with them yesterday, and paid a visit to
their hospital. I saw six of the noble fellows who were wounded in a
late fight. About ten days ago, Colonel Brownlow, a regular "chip of
the old block," took a part of the regiment out some twelve miles from
camp, toward Duck River, and, coming upon a large party of secesh,
gave them a "taste of his quality." A short time after, the Colonel,
with nine of his men, became detached from the main body, and found
themselves completely surrounded by the rebels, and were within thirty
yards of the foe, who ordered the Colonel to surrender. A moment's
parley with his men, and the Colonel, with the boys, rode toward the
rebels, and, with a few adjectives, quite _unparliamentary_ to ears
polite, much to their surprise, dashed through their line. This
audacity saved them; for, before they had time to recover from their
surprise, Brownlow and his men were beyond their reach. I was told, by
one of the prisoners, that, at one time, twenty rebels were firing at
that "little cuss in the blue jacket," as they called the Colonel,
during the day's performance. Several splendid charges were made by
these Tennesseeans.

James Mysinger, of Company I, from Green County, after being mortally
wounded--the noble fellow--fired three shots. The Colonel dismounted
to assist the dying soldier, who, with tears in his eyes, said:

"Colonel, I've only one regret--that I am not spared to kill more of
those wretched traitors. Tell me, Colonel," continued he, "have I not
always obeyed orders?"

"Yes, Mysinger, you are a noble fellow, and have always done your
duty," said the Colonel, patting him on the cheek, and brushing the
cold sweat from his brow.

"Now, Colonel," said he, "I am ready to die."

Oliver Miller, Company C, received a severe wound in the arm. He is
only seventeen years of age. John Harris received three balls. Robert
Adair was wounded in the head. William Riddle was completely
_riddled_, receiving one ball and four buck-shot. David Berry had his
thigh broken, jumping from his horse. Berry's father was murdered by
rebels at Cumberland Gap. His head was placed upon a block and cut
off, by order of Colonel Brazzleton, of the 1st East Tennessee rebel
cavalry. Nearly all these men have not only their country's wrongs to
avenge, but the wrongs heaped upon their fathers, mothers, and
sisters. I spent an hour in conversation with these wounded men, and
all were laughing and talking in the best of spirits. Such men are
invincible.

A brother of Colonel Brownlow, who is now on a visit to this camp,
informs me that he had it from the most reliable source, that the
rebels in and around Knoxville were actually suffering for food. An
order was issued by the rebel commander at Knoxville, a few days
since, to seize all the hams, sides, and bacon belonging to private
parties, leaving only fifty pounds for each family. A Mrs. Tillery, of
Knox County, residing twelve miles from Knoxville, when her house was
visited for the purpose of being pillaged, in the fulfillment of this
order, expostulated with the lieutenant in command. She told him that
fifty pounds would not keep her family two weeks, and she had no way
of obtaining more. Notwithstanding her entreaties, the rebel
lieutenant ordered fifty pounds to be weighed and given to her. He had
scarcely given the order when Mrs. Tillery drew a pistol and shot the
lieutenant through the heart. The rebel detail left the meat, and took
off the corpse of their commander. The spirit of discontent is
manifesting itself in various ways among even the most ultra rebels.
They are getting tired of seeing their country devastated by the two
armies, and are anxious for a settlement; and it only awaits the
_daring of a few_ to inaugurate a "rebellion within a rebellion,"
which, if once started, will spread like wild-fire.


PICKET DUTY AND ITS DANGERS.

Of all the duties of a soldier, outpost duty is the most trying and
dangerous. Courage, caution, patience, sleepless vigilance, and iron
nerve are essential to its due performance. Upon the picket-guards of
an army rests an immense responsibility. They are the eyes and ears of
the encamped or embattled host. Hence, if they are negligent or
faithless, the thousands dependent upon their zeal and watchfulness
for safety, might almost as well be blind and deaf. The bravest army,
under such circumstances, is liable, like a strong man in his sleep,
to be pounced upon and discomfited by an inferior foe. For this reason
the laws of war declare that the punishment of a soldier found
sleeping on his post shall be death.

But although the peril and responsibility involved in picket duty are
so great, the heroes who are selected for it rarely receive honorable
mention in our military bulletins. Their collisions with the enemy are
"skirmishes." The proportion of killed and wounded in these collisions
may be double or triple what it was at Magenta or Solferino, but still
they are mere "affairs of outposts." "Our pickets were driven in," or
"The enemy's pickets were put to flight," and that is the end of it.
Presently comes the news of a brilliant Union victory; and nobody
pauses to consider that if our pickets had been asleep, or faithless,
or cowardly, a Union _defeat_ might, nay _must_, have been the
consequence.

We forget what these men endure--their risks, their privations, their
fatigues, their anxieties, _their battles with themselves_, when
sleep--more insidious than even the lurking enemy in the bush--tugs at
their heavy eyelids, and their overwearied senses are barely held to
their allegiance by the strongest mental effort. The soldier who
rushes to the charge at the command of his officer is animated by the
shouts of his comrades, inspirited by the sounds of martial music, and
full of the ardor and confidence which the consciousness of being
intelligently led and loyally supported engenders. He sees his
adversaries; he fights in an open field; his fate is to be decided by
the ordinary chances of honorable war. Not so the picket-guard. He is
surrounded by unseen dangers. The gleam of his bayonet may, at any
moment, draw upon him the fire of some prowling assassin. If he hears
a rustling among the leaves, and inquires, "Who goes there?" the
answer may be a ball in his heart.


A GALLANT DEED AND A CHIVALROUS RETURN.

In the recent movement of Stoneman's Cavalry, the advance was led by
Lieutenant Paine, of the 1st Maine Cavalry. Being separated, by a
considerable distance, from the main body, he encountered,
unexpectedly, a superior force of rebel cavalry, and his whole party
were taken prisoners. They were hurried off as rapidly as possible to
get them out of the way of our advancing force, and, in crossing a
rapid and deep stream, Lieutenant Henry, commanding the rebel force,
was swept off his horse. As none of his men seemed to think or care
any thing about saving him, his prisoner, Lieutenant Paine, leaped off
his horse, seized the drowning man by the collar, swam ashore with
him, and saved his life, thus literally capturing the captor. Paine
was sent to Richmond with the rest of the prisoners, and the facts
being made known to General Fitz-Hugh Lee, he wrote a statement of
them to General Winder, Provost-Marshal of Richmond, who ordered the
instant release of Lieutenant Paine, without even parole, promise, or
condition, and, we presume, with the compliments of the Confederacy.
He arrived in Washington on Saturday last. This act of generosity, as
well as justice, must command our highest admiration. There is some
hope for men who can behave in such a manner.

But the strangest part of the story is yet to come. Lieutenant Paine,
on arriving in Washington, learned that the officer whose life he had
thus gallantly saved had since been taken prisoner by our forces, and
had just been confined in the Old Capitol prison. The last we heard of
Paine he was on his way to General Martindale's head-quarters to
obtain a pass to visit his imprisoned benefactor. Such are the
vicissitudes of war. We could not help thinking, when we heard this
story, of the profound observation of Mrs. Gamp: "Sich is life, vich
likevays is the hend of hall things hearthly." We leave it to casuists
to determine whether, when these two gallant soldiers meet on the
battle-field, they should fight like enemies or embrace like
Christians. For our part, we do not believe their swords will be any
the less sharp, nor their zeal any the less determined, for this
hap-hazard exchange of soldierly courtesy.




CHAPTER XXIX.

     An Incident at Holly Springs, Miss. -- The Raid of Van Dorn
     -- Cincinnati Cotton-Dealers in Trouble -- Troubles of a
     Reporter.


AN INCIDENT AT HOLLY SPRINGS, MISS.--THE RAID OF VAN DORN.

The amount of public and private property captured and destroyed by
the enemy is estimated at something over six millions of dollars. He
had considerable skirmishing with our troops, whose effective force
Colonel R. C. Murphy, commandant of the post, says was less than three
hundred. The Confederates lost ten or twelve in killed and wounded,
and we six or seven wounded, none fatally. Colonel Murphy says he
received information from Grant too late to make the necessary
arrangements for the defense of the place. Though there were less than
three hundred effective Union soldiers in town, all the civilians,
tradesmen, speculators, and promiscuous hangers-on to the army were
captured, swelling the number who gave their parole to about fifteen
hundred. The raid, as you may imagine, delighted the residents of
Holly Springs, who turned out _en masse_ to welcome their
brief-lingering "deliverers," and were very active in pointing out the
places where Northerners were boarding. Not a few of the precious
citizens fired at our troops from the windows, and acted as
contemptibly and dastardly as possible. The women, who had been rarely
visible before, made their appearance, radiant, and supplied the rebel
Yahoos with all manner of refreshments. "Good Union men," who had sold
their cotton to the Yankees, shook the Treasury-notes in the faces of
the Union prisoners, saying they had been paid for their property, and
had the pleasure of burning it before the "d----d Abolition
scoundrels' eyes."


CINCINNATI COTTON-DEALERS IN TROUBLE.

A number of cotton-buyers were robbed of whatever money they had on
their persons, and some of them are said to have lost from five to ten
thousand dollars apiece, which is, probably, an exaggerated statement.
W. W. Cones, of Cincinnati, saved a large sum by an ingenious trick.
He had twenty-eight thousand dollars on his person when the enemy
entered the place, and immediately throwing off his citizen's garb, he
attired himself in the cast-off gauntlets of a private soldier,
entered the Magnolia House, employed as a hospital, and, throwing
himself upon a bed, assumed to be exceedingly and helplessly sick,
while the foe remained. As soon as the rebels had departed, he became
suddenly and vigorously healthy, and walked into the street to
denounce the traitors. He declared his eleven hours' sickness caused
him less pain, and saved him more money than any illness he ever
before endured. D. W. Fairchild, also of the Queen City, in addition
to losing fifty bales of cotton, was robbed of his pocket-book,
containing forty-five dollars, in the following manner: When
captured, he was taken before General Jackson, popularly known as
"Billy Jackson," considered a high representative of chivalry and
soldiership in this benighted quarter of the globe. Jackson inquired
of Fairchild, in a rough way, if he had any money with him? To which
the party addressed answered, he had a trifling sum, barely sufficient
to pay his expenses to the North. "Hand it over, you d----d nigger
thief," roared the high-toned general, who, as soon as the
porte-monnaie was produced, seized it, thrust it into his pocket, and
rode off with a self-satisfied chuckle. What a noble specimen of
chivalry is this Jackson! He has many kindred spirits in the South,
where vulgar ruffians are apotheosized, who would, at an earlier time,
have been sent to the pillory. "Sixteen-string Jack," and all that
delectable fraternity, whose lives bloom so fragrantly in the pages of
the saffron-hued literature of the day, would have spat in the faces
of such fellows as Jackson, had they dared to claim the acquaintance
of persons so much their superiors.

When the rebels were playing the part of incendiaries in town, they
set fire to the building containing a great quantity of our
ammunition, shells, etc. The consequence was a tremendous explosion,
which broke half the windows, and many of the frames, in town, rattled
down ceilings, unsettled foundations, and spread general dismay. Women
and children screamed, and rushed like maniacs into the streets, and
fell fainting with terror there. For several hours the shells
continued to burst, and, I have heard, two or three children were
killed with fragments of the projectiles. Two days after, I saw
families suffering from hysterics on account of excessive fright, and
several seemed to have become quite crazed therefrom.


TROUBLES OF A REPORTER.

One morning, hearing that John Morgan was at Elizabethtown, Ky., I
determined to go as near as possible, and find out the condition of
things, and see the fight that was in expectancy. Proceeding as far as
I could by rail, I hired a carriage and horses, hoping to reach
Munfordville in time for a big item.

I had proceeded some five miles when a party of eight men, whom I at
once determined were guerrillas, rode hastily to the carriage, and
demanded my credentials. I exhibited a free pass over the Ohio and
Mississippi Railroad, four Provost-Marshal's passes, a permission to
leave the State of Ohio, also one to leave Kentucky, and a ten-cent
Nashville bill. I was afraid to show them my letter from General
Starbuck, of the _Daily Times_.

After looking at them awhile, they were passed round to the balance of
the fiendish-looking rascals, and I was kept in terrible suspense ten
minutes longer.

I tried to get off several of my well-authenticated bad jokes, but I
choked in the utterance, and my smile was no doubt a sardonic grin. I
wiped the perspiration from my brow so frequently that one of the most
intellectual of the "brutes" relieved the monotony of the occasion by
observing that it was a very hot day, to which I acquiesced, feeling
quite glad to have a guerrilla speak to a prisoner.

The countryman who had driven me thus far was speechless. He thought
of his carriage and horses, and visions of their being immediately
possessed by Morgan or Forrest had rendered him powerless. After a few
questions as to where we left the train, and as to the number of
passengers on board, the citizen cavalry, or Union guards, as they
proved to be, told us we might proceed, that we were all right, but to
be very careful, as Forrest was reported near that region; they hardly
thought it safe to attempt to get to Green River.

This brewed fresh trouble to me, the owner of the horses and carriage
refusing positively to proceed on the journey. In vain I expostulated,
telling him I would pay for his horses out of the _sinking fund_ of
the _Times_ office, in case of their loss. It was no go, and I was
compelled to retreat. I felt very much like building some
fortifications in the woods, and making a stand, but, remembering the
saying, "Discretion is the better part of valor," retreated, and fell
back upon the National Hotel, in Louisville, with all the luxuries
prepared by Charley Metcalf, Major Harrow, and Colonel Myers.




CHAPTER XXX.

     A Reporter's Idea of Mules -- Letter from Kentucky --
     Chaplain Gaddis Turns Fireman -- Gaddis and the Secesh
     Grass-Widow.


A REPORTER'S IDEA OF MULES.

Junius Browne, describing a mule and his antics, says: "Now, be it
known, I never had any faith in, though possessed of abundant
commiseration for, a mule. I always sympathized with Sterne in his
sentimental reverie over a dead ass, but for a living one, I could
never elevate my feeling of pity either into love or admiration. The
mule in question, however, seemed to be possessed of gentle and kindly
qualifications. He appeared to have reached that degree of culture
that disarms viciousness and softens stubbornness into tractability. I
believed the sober-looking animal devoid of tricks peculiar to his
kind, such as attempting to run up dead walls in cities, and climb
trees in the country, mistaking himself for a perpetual motion, and
trying to kick Time through the front window of Eternity. I was
deceived in the docile-looking brute. He secured me as his rider by
false pretenses. He won my confidence, and betrayed it shamefully.
That he was a good mule, in some respects, I'll willingly testify; but
in others, he was deeply depraved. He exhibited a disposition
undreamed of by me, unknown before in the brothers and sisters of his
numerous family. In brief, he was a sectarian mule; a bigot that held
narrow views on the subject of religion; believed Hebrew the
vernacular of the devil, and regarded the Passover with malevolent
eyes. Confound such a creature, there was no hope for him! Who could
expect to free him from his prejudices? He hated Moses for his fate,
and Rebekkah for her forms of worship. He was insane on Judaism. He
was a monomaniacal Gentile. Who could make out a mental diagnosis, or
anticipate the conduct of a mule afflicted with religious lunacy? Well
for your correspondent had he discovered beforehand the bias of the
brute, or suspected he was a quadruped zealot! Much might have been
saved to him, and more to a number of unoffending gentlemen from
church, as the sequel of my 'o'er true tale' will prove.

"The train got off about eight o'clock, on a cloudy, rainy, muddy,
suicidal morning, and the material that composed it was worthy of
illustration by Cruikshank. The procession was singularly varied, and
supremely bizarre. There were the army-wagons, with sick and wounded
soldiers, lumbering heavily along; the paroled prisoners wading
through the mire; cotton-buyers, on foot and on horseback; members of
the twelve tribes of Israel, with all possible modes of conveyance--in
broken buggies, in dilapidated coaches, on bare-boned Rosinantes, on
superannuated oxen, with fragmentary reins, rope reins, and no reins;
spurring, swearing, hallooing, and gesticulating toward Memphis, in
mortal terror lest the rebels would capture them again, and some of
their hard-earned gains. Pauvre Juils! They would have excited the
pity of a pawnbroker, if he had not known them, so frightened and
anxious and disconsolate they looked. They could not have appeared
more miserable if they had just learned that a brass watch they had
sold for silver had turned out gold. The mule trotted along briskly
and quietly enough until he beheld the grotesque vision of the
heterogeneously-mounted Israelites. Then he displayed most
extraordinary conduct. He pawed, he hawed, he kicked, all the while
glancing at the sons of Jerusalem, and braying louder and more
discordant every moment. I could not understand the mule's
idiosyncrasies. Possibly, I thought, the doctrine of the
metempsychosis may be true, and this brute, in the early stages of its
development, once have been in love. He has a fit on him now, I
fancied--he is once more possessed of a petticoat. Why not? If love
converts men into asses, why should not asses, in their maddest
moments, act like men in love? The mule's ire was culminating. I dug
my spurs into his side. Vain effort! He was bent on mischief, and
malignant against the persecuted race. If he had been in the House of
Commons, (and many of his brethren are there,) I know he never would
have voted for the admission of Jews into the English Parliament.
Before I could anticipate his movement, he rushed at several
pedestrian Hebrews and kicked the wind out of their stomachs and three
pairs of green spectacles from their noses. While endeavoring to
recover their glasses, the mule knocked their hats off with his hoofs,
and impaired the perfect semicircle of their proboscis, thus imitating
the rebels--by destroying their bridges totally. The infuriated brute
then ran for an old buggy, and, by supreme perseverance, kicked it
over, and its two Hebrew occupants, into the road, where they fell,
head-foremost, into the mire, growling profanely, like tigers that
have learned German imperfectly, and were trying to swear, in choice
Teutonic, about the peculiar qualities of Limburger cheese. In their
sudden subversion, the Israelites dropped three fine watches out of
their pockets, and the mule, with an unprecedented voracity, and
determined on having a good time, ate the chronometers without any
apparent detriment to digestion. The owners of the watches were
frenzied. They glanced at my beast, and were about to devour him,
hoping thereby to get the timepieces back. They did not violate the
third commandment. They could not. They were too mad. They merely
hissed rage, like a boiling tea-kettle, and grew purple in the face,
and spun round in the road, from the excess of their wrath. Your
correspondent was alarmed. He feared the mule would devour the Hebrews
themselves, and he knew, if that were done, the animal would explode,
and said animal had not been paid for. No time was given for
reflection. Off ran the mule again, and made a pedal attack on a small
Hebrew with a huge nasal organ, seated on top of a decayed coach,
drawn by a horse, a cow, and three negroes. The quadruped made a
herculean effort to kick the diminutive Shylock from his seat, but all
in vain. The altitude was too great, and, in the midst of his
exertions, he kicked himself off his feet, and fell over into a
gulley, in which he alighted and stood on his head, as if he had been
trained in a circus. The position was admirable, and so worthy of
imitation that I stood on my head also, in two feet of mire, and
beckoned with my boots for some passing pedestrians to come and pull
me out, as they would a radish from a kitchen-garden. The mule resumed
his normal position speedily, and went off in his well-sustained
character of a Jew-hunter. I was less fortunate. Three teamsters drew
my boots from my feet, and tears from my eyes, before they could
extricate me. And when I was removed from _terra firma_, I resembled a
hickory stump dragged out by the roots, or a large cat-fish that had
left his native element, and, seized with a fit of science, had
endeavored to convert himself into a screw of the Artesian well.
Placed feet downward on the ground again, I could not thank my
deliverers or swear at the mule. I was dumb with astonishment and the
mud, having swallowed eighteen ounces avoirdupois weight of the sacred
soil of Mississippi while endeavoring to express my admiration of the
performance of the mule. When I had removed the mire from my optics,
in which cotton-seed would have grown freely, I beheld the mule in the
dim distance. I could not see the brute plainly, but I could determine
his course by the frequent falling of a human figure along the road. I
knew the figures were those of his enemies, the much-abused
Hebrews--that he was still wreaking his vengeance on the
representatives of Israel--that he was fulfilling the unfortunate
destiny of a misguided and merciless mule. Strange animal! Had the
honest tradesman ever sold his grandfather a bogus watch? or
inveigled his innocent sire into the mysterious precincts of a
mock-auction? Alas! history does not record, and intuition will not
reveal.

"My narrative is over. I did not go to Memphis. I returned, limping,
to town, mentally ejaculating, like many adventurous gentlemen who,
before me, have recklessly attempted to ride the peculiar beast,
'D----n a mule, any how!'"


LETTERS FROM KENTUCKY.

Early in September, 1862, I was sent by General Starbuck & Co.,
proprietors of the Cincinnati _Daily Times_, to reconnoiter in
Kentucky. My first stop was a very pleasant one--at the Galt House,
Louisville. From that place I wrote incident after incident concerning
the most inhuman barbarity that had been enacted by citizen guerrillas
and butternut soldiers. Louisville was in a foment of excitement, and
if the rebels had only possessed the dash, there was scarce a day but
they could have made a foray upon the "Galt," and captured from forty
to fifty nice-looking officers, from brigadier-generals down to
lieutenants.

It was supposed the Government could spare them; else why were they in
the North, when they should have been in the South?

While there, I met Lieutenant Thomas S. Pennington, of Columbus, Ohio,
a gentleman of intelligence, who told me HE SAW CITIZENS OF RICHMOND
(Kentucky) who had pretended to be FRIENDLY WITH OUR MEN, SHOOT THEM
DOWN AS THEY WERE RETREATING THROUGH THEIR STREETS. G. W. Baker, the
regimental blacksmith of the 71st Indiana, who resides in Terre
Haute, was in the city in charge of a number of horses left in
Richmond. As our boys, worn-out and unarmed, retreated through the
place, Mr. Baker says the men fired from their windows and doors. J.
C. Haton, of Point Commerce, Indiana, also corroborates this fiendish
piece of work upon the very men who had for days stood guard over
their private property. All agree that more of our men were killed by
these incarnate fiends in citizens' clothing than by the secesh in
uniforms. Many of the pretended friendly citizens went out (says
Lieutenant Pennington) to aid us, and then treacherously picked off
our officers. Colonel Topkins, of the 71st Indiana, died nobly,
leading his men, who, although undisciplined, stood bravely by their
gallant colonel while there was a shadow of hope. Twice was his horse
shot beneath him; and mounting the third horse, he received two
bullets. A number of his boys hastily gathered around him. His last
words were: "Boys, did I do my duty?" With tears coursing their manly
cheeks, they replied: "You did, Colonel." "Then," said he, "I DIE
HAPPY." Major Concklin, of the 71st, whom I reported wounded, died
shortly afterward. Coming from Shelbyville, I passed more than one
hundred wagons, all heavily loaded with the wreck of the late battles,
many of the wounded being brought to this city.


CHAPLAIN GADDIS AND THE 2d OHIO.

Charley Bunker, in writing from the 2d Ohio, says: "This is the
Sabbath, which, under present circumstances, can only be known by the
neat appearance of the boys, in their shiny boots and clean, boiled
shirts, as they make their early morning entrée for company inspection
of arms and accouterments, after which, all is dullness and vacuity.
There is a sensible void, apparent to all, requiring something to
remove the depressing dullness now surrounding them; and that
something is to be found only in the presence of an accommodating and
pleasing chaplain. Being to-day in the camp of the 2d Ohio Regiment, I
observed this lack of a clerical adviser, in the absence of Brother M.
P. Gaddis, the pleasing and affable chaplain of this gallant band of
patriots. Brother Gaddis, being naturally of a pleasing and
accommodating disposition, has won the confidence and favor of his
entire command, and is an ever-welcome guest wherever he may chance to
offer his presence. But one instance can be recorded wherein the
parson has met with refusal of friendship and favor--and this can be
credited to nothing but the present distracted condition of our
unfortunate country. But, even in this instance, the kind and
accommodating nature of the chaplain was fully manifested; forgetting
all party or political prejudices, he viewed all the circumstances
with a happy mind and Christian heart. The following are the
circumstances of the above-mentioned case: On the first advance of the
national army from Louisville toward the land of Dixie, a portion of
our forces marched along the turnpike, passing in their route the
time-noted tavern-stand, distant some twenty miles north of Bowling
Green, and known to all travelers as "Ball's Tavern." On the evening
of the arrival of the forces under the immediate command of General
Mitchel, at this place, one of the buildings attached to the premises
accidently caught fire."


CHAPLAIN GADDIS TURNS FIREMAN.

The 2d Ohio Regiment being encamped near the premises, and observing
the flames bursting from the roof of the building, Brother Gaddis,
with a number of others, instantly made their way to the building to
save the entire property from destruction. Entering the building, they
made their way to the top of the house, where the fire was then
raging, and commenced tearing away the wood-work near the devouring
element. No water being convenient, they were obliged to resort to the
snow as a substitute, which, at that time, covered the ground, to
subdue the flames. Having partially succeeded in checking the raging
of the fire, a small aperture was made in the roof of the building,
and Dave Thomas, the sutler of the 2d Ohio, being the smallest one of
the party, was thrust through the hole in the roof, and made a
desperate onslaught upon the fire, while Brother Gaddis continued to
hand up the snow in hats and caps to the daring firemen on the roof,
until the fire was entirely extinguished. The following day Brother
Gaddis, knowing the former reputation of the tavern, and, as is
natural with all clerical exponents, preferring _fried chicken to hog
meat_, and warm rolls to hard crackers, wended his way to the tavern,
with a craving appetite, and the full expectation of a kind welcome
and an agreeable entertainment.

Before proceeding further, I must here state that, attached to these
premises, is a noted subterranean recess, which has ever been the
attraction of all travelers who have chanced to pass over this
frequented thoroughfare, and is known as the "Diamond Cave."


GADDIS AND THE SECESH GRASS-WIDOW.

Entering the dwelling, Brother Gaddis sought the landlady, Mrs.
Proctor, or the late widow Bell, but now the wife of a Proctor, who,
by-the-by, is at present to be found in the ranks of the rebel army,
the madam's entire sympathies leading in the same direction.
Addressing the landlady in his usual winning manner, Brother Gaddis
requested the privilege of remaining as a guest of the house, and
enjoying the luxuries of her well-stored larder and the comforts of
her well-furnished rooms. What was the surprise of the chaplain to
find in the landlady a real she-devil in politics, and utterly
inexorable to all appeals to her charity and hospitality. In her
remarks, she observed that "He was on the wrong side of the fence;
that she had entertained, the day before the arrival of the Union
troops, a company of three hundred gentlemen, (referring to that
number of rebel cavalry,) and that they had treated her like a lady,
and paid her for what they had received"--(_in Confederate scrip_). In
reply, Brother Gaddis, not wishing to be deprived of her coveted
entertainment, inquired "What was the difference which side of the
fence he was on, so that he conducted himself with propriety, and paid
her for her trouble?" asking if his money was not as good as that of
those of whom she spoke. She answered, "No!" and positively refused to
entertain any of the "hated Yankees" in her house.


"TURCHIN'S GOT YOUR MULE."

           A planter came to camp one day,
             His niggers for to find;
           His mules had also gone astray,
             And stock of every kind.
           The planter tried to get them back,
             And thus was made a fool,
           For every one he met in camp
             Cried, "Mister, here's your mule."
  CHORUS.--Go back, go back, go back, old scamp,
             And don't be made a fool;
           Your niggers they are all in camp,
             And Turchin's got your mule.

           His corn and horses all were gone
             Within a day or two.
           Again he went to Colonel Long,
             To see what he could do.
           "I can not change what I have done,
             And won't be made a fool,"
           Was all the answer he could get,
             The owner of the mule.
  CHORUS.--Go back, go back, go back, old scamp,
             And don't be made a fool;
           Your niggers they are all in camp,
             And Turchin's got your mule.

           And thus from place to place we go,
             The song is e'er the same;
           'Tis not as once it used to be,
             For Morgan's lost his name.
           He went up North, and there he stays,
             With stricken face, the fool;
           In Cincinnati now he cries,
             "My kingdom for a mule."
  CHORUS.--Go back, go back, etc.




CHAPTER XXXI.

     A Visit to the 1st East Tennessee Cavalry -- A Proposed
     Sermon -- Its Interruption -- How ye Preacher is Bamboozled
     out of $15 and a Gold Watch -- Cavalry on the Brain -- Old
     Stonnicker Drummed out of Camp -- Now and Then.


A VISIT TO THE 1st EAST TENNESSEE CAVALRY.

The cavalry had been kept very busy during the months of March and
April; the picket-duty was arduous and severe, but the East Tennessee
soldiers stood up to the rack manfully. I had been with them on nearly
all their expeditions; shared their toils and dangers, until I felt I
was a part and parcel of their "institution." Colonel Johnson, at this
time, was in Nashville, raising a brigade; the command of the
regiment, therefore, devolved upon Colonel Brownlow.

The Colonel had frequently invited me over to the camp, but other
engagements had as frequently deterred me from accepting the
invitation.

I was seated, one beautiful afternoon, in the tent of Doctor Charles
Wright, of the 35th Ohio, conversing with Colonel Brownlow, when Major
Tracy, of the Tennessee regiment, with two or three others, agreed
that "now was the appointed time." A horse was proffered me by John
Leiter, Esq., and I proceeded forthwith to the head-quarters of the
renowned East Tennesseeans. Arriving there, the Major requested that I
would entertain the boys, who, as well as they knew me personally, did
not know me _facially_--did not know the "power of facial expression."

Major Tracy ordered the assembly-call sounded, which was done, and, in
a short time, five or six hundred men were congregated in front of
head-quarters, and as those in the rear could not have a good view of
the speaker, the Major ordered the front rank to kneel, or squat. The
boys had been told that Alf was going to give them some "fun;" that
Alf was to amuse them for awhile.

During the congregating of the crowd, I was in the tent--the audience
in waiting. Major T. went to the front and announced that the REV.
EBENEZER SLABSIDES, from Middle Tennessee, would address the
congregation. A table was placed, and I had taken a "_posish_," with
spectacles mounted on my nose, when, just as I had commenced the
discourse, by saying: "MY BELOVED BRETHERING," I heard a strange voice
say:

"We didn't come to hear no sermon--we come to hear Alf. Put that
fellow out!"

Another voice said: "That's a burlesque on our parson."

Still I went on, thinking all would be quiet. Presently a big, tall E.
T. C. fellow shouted "Move him, move him!" and shouts of "Alf! where's
Alf?" resounded all over. Here I tried to divest myself of my
spectacles, but they stuck, and before I could identify myself to the
crowd as to who I was, I received a _knock-down_ argument.

I changed my base of operations, and retreated to the Major's tent.
Here two stalwart fellows laid violent hands upon me, and each one
getting hold, tried to pull me _through the tent-pole_. Seeing a fine
opportunity for a strategical maneuver, I succeeded in planting a
heavy blow on the proboscis of one of my tormentors, which bedizzened
his vision. Again I changed my base, and got to another tent. By this
time the camp was wild; a few, who knew me, were taking my part; blows
fell thick and fast, but I succeeded in guarding my head. I had no
relish for cavalry on the brain just then. During the melée they
robbed me of a watch and about fifteen dollars in money. "_But they
can't do it again! Hallelujah!_"

The news of my _defeat_ spread like wild-fire over the camp before
tatoo; the entire division were talking of it, and serious
consequences were feared; the cavalry soldiers did not dare show
themselves near the 2d Minnesota for several days, I being quite a
favorite with those boys, and that being my home for the time. The
most exaggerated stories were told of the affair.

In a few days all was quiet on the Harpeth, and again I was with the
boys, who all made the most ample apologies, and expressed sorrow for
what had occurred.

Colonel Brownlow called upon me the next day, in condolence, renewing
the invitation, but the remembrance of my former reception deterred me
from making the journey. Some weeks after the occurrence, I was
commissioned by the proprietors of the Cincinnati _Commercial_ to
proceed to Murfreesboro as their "Special," and telegraphed to General
Garfield for the requisite permission. Judge of my surprise upon
receiving the following dispatch from General Garfield:


                              Head-quarters Army of the Cumberland,
                              Murfreesboro, _May 10, 1863_.

     Alf Burnett--_Sir_: The commanding General has heard of the
     occurrence at Triune, and refuses you permission to come to
     Murfreesboro.

                                        J. A. GARFIELD,
                         _Brigadier-General and Chief of Staff_.


I immediately dispatched a batch of letters from prominent Generals;
also sent forward several fine introductory letters that I held,
addressed to General Rosecrans and General Garfield. A regular
diplomatic correspondence was opened, and, after hearing the evidence,
I received a telegram to this effect:


     Alf Burnett--Report forthwith at these Head-quarters.

                                        J. A. GARFIELD.

                         By order of Major-General Rosecrans.


I arrived at Murfreesboro the following day, but did not "_report_,"
for I felt somewhat chagrined at the General's crediting the stories
that he had heard. The succeeding day, however, I met General Alex
McCook, and his brother, the gallant Colonel Dan McCook, who told me
that the General wanted to see me immediately; that the greatest
anxiety was felt at head-quarters for my appearance; that I had been
the subject of conversation for an hour past. I immediately dismounted
and walked into the house, presenting my card to an orderly, and, in a
moment, General Garfield came to the door with a cordial welcome and
a hearty laugh, took me by the hand and introduced the "Preacher from
Hepsidam" to Major-General Rosecrans. When this was done, another
outburst of laughter was the result.

Major-General Turchin, Major-General Thomas, and the staffs of those
heroes were present. General Garfield and "Old Rosey" formed the party
whom I was apprised were a court-martial now duly convened to try the
"Preacher from Hepsidam." General R. asking me if I was ready for
trial, I told him I was, if he had a pair of spectacles in the "court"
room. So he called the court to order, sent for a few of his staff,
who were absent, and requested General Garfield to get me a pair of
spectacles from an adjoining room. General Rosecrans took advantage of
General Garfield's absence to tell me that General Garfield had once
been a "Hard-shell" Baptist preacher, and requested me, if I could, by
any possibility, "bring him in," to do so. The sermon was given, and,
afterward, the "DEBATE BETWEEN SLABSIDES AND GARROTTE," together with
other pieces. At the conclusion of the "trial," the court unanimously
resolved that I should not only be honorably acquitted of all charges,
but that I was henceforth to be allowed the freedom of the Army of the
Cumberland. "And," said the General, "in explanation of my dispatch to
you, refusing you permission to come here, some one told me you were
giving a mock-religious sermon which so disgusted the religious
sensibilities of the E. T. C. that they mobbed you; and I thought if
you could do any thing to shock their feelings, you must be a devil
with '_four horns_;' but, with such a face as you make, no wonder they
were deceived."


OLD STONNICKER DRUMMED OUT OF CAMP.

The illustration of this scene will be recognized by thousands of our
soldier-boys who were occupiers of Virginia soil, upon the banks of
the Elkwater, for some months during the summer and fall of 1861. Old
Stonnicker's was a name familiar as a household word, and many were
the pranks played upon the poor old man. Ignorant, beyond description,
he yet had twice been a "justice" of the peace, and, as he said, "sot
on the bench."

The scene illustrated is where Stonnicker was arrested by a "special
order" from the 6th Ohio, and tried by an impromptu court-martial, for
selling liquor to soldiers. The mock-trial took place amid the most
grotesque queries and absurd improvised telegraph dispatches--the
hand-writing of the telegraphic dispatches being sworn to as that of
the individuals from whom they were just received, the oath being, "As
they solemnly _hoped for the success of the Southern Confederacy_."
The poor wretch had actually been detected in selling, contrary to
express orders, liquor to soldiers. He employed counsel, but,
notwithstanding all they could do, he was sentenced, by Major
Christopher, to die. He received his sentence with moanings and
anguish; he was too frightened to notice the smiles or laughter of the
crowd. He got on his knees and begged for mercy, and, after an hour of
suspense, the Court relented, and commuted the sentence to being
drummed out of camp. It is at this juncture the artist has seized the
occasion to illustrate the scene.

Stonnicker is a by-word to all the boys of Elkwater notoriety to this
day, and was, at one time, "_a password_" at Louisville.

Poor Stonnicker is dead. In trying, last fall, to ford that mad
torrent, Elkwater, during a storm, he was swept from his horse and
drowned.

Andy Hall, Ned Shoemaker, Doctor Ames, and other notables of the
"times that tried men's _soles_," were the recipients of the
hospitality of another of the family of Stonnickers, who lived up a
"ravine" about a mile nearer Huttonsville. Doctor Ames had musk upon
his handkerchief, which the young lady, (?) Miss Delilah Stonnicker,
noticing, as she waited upon the Doctor at the supper-table,
exclaimed: "'Lor', Doctor, how your _hankercher_ stinks!"

"Does it?" said the Doctor, coloring up to his very eyes, roars of
laughter proceeding from all present.

"Yaas; it stinks just like a skunk."

"Why, Miss Delilah, do you have skunks out here?" inquired the Doctor.

"_Yaas, lots on 'em up the gut out thar._"


NOW AND THEN.

Written by Enos B. REED,

And Recited by Mr. Alf BURNETT, at the Benefit of the Ladies'
Soldiers' Aid Society of Cincinnati, Saturday Evening, January 31st,
1863.

    In other days, as it has oft been told
    By those who sleep beneath the grave's dank mold,
    In this, our loved, but now distracted land,
    Men dwelt together as a household band;
    Brothers they were, but not alone in name,
    Sons of Columbia and Columbia's fame--
    They loved the land, the fairest 'neath the sun,
    Home of the brave--the land of Washington!

    Peaceful the rivers as they flowed along
    The plenteous fields, where swelled the harvest song;
    Peaceful the mountains, as they reared on high
    Their snow-capped peaks unto the azure sky--
    Peaceful the valleys, where contentment smiled,
    Blessing alike the parent and the child--
    Peaceful the hearts which owned a country blest,
    And owned their God, who gave them peace and rest!

    The happy matron and the joyous maid
    Alike were blest--the unknown traveler stayed
    His weary limbs beneath their roof-tree's shade,
    While home from toil the husbandman returned,
    His honest hands the honest pittance earned,
    Willing to share his humble meal with one
    Whether from Winter's snows or Southern sun.

    No North--no South, in those the better days--
    Our starry flag o'er all--its genial rays
    Glistened amid New England's dreary snows,
    Or shone as proudly where the south wind blows:
    One flag, one nation, and one God we claimed,
    And traitors' lips had never yet defamed
    The land for which our fathers fought and bled--
    Hallowed by graves of honored patriot-dead!

    Fruitful the earth, and fair the skies above;
    The days were blissful, and the nights were love;
    We were at peace--our land and freedom gained--
    Our fair escutcheon with no blot e'er stained--
    But all did honor to the fair young State
    Who made herself both glorious and great;
    Our Eagle--emblem of the happy free--
    Was free to soar o'er foreign land or sea!

    But darkness came, and settled like a pall
    Funereal, on our hearts; o'er one and all
    It cast its blighting, withering wing,
    A horrid, shapeless, and revolting thing--
    While dove-eyed Peace bowed down its gentle head
    And wept for those, though living, worse than dead;
    And blood, like rivers, flowed from hill to plain
    'Till land and sea knew not their ghastly slain.

    The Northern snows incarnadined with gore--
    The Southern vales with blood, like wine, ran o'er--
    The battle raging in the morning sun,
    At night, the warfare scarcely yet begun--
    The sire, in arms to meet his foeman-son,
    Brother, to seek his brother in the strife,
    Rushed madly on--demanding life for life!
    And children, orphans made--and worse than widowed, wife!

    And this the land which erst our fathers blest,
    Favored of Heaven--the pilgrim's hope of rest--
    Now cursed by traitors, who with impious hands
    Have dared to sunder our once-hallowed bands--
    Have dared to poison with their ven'mous breath
    All that was fair--and raise the flag of death;
    Have dared to blight the country of their birth,
    Striving her name to banish from the earth!

    God of our fathers! where your lightnings now,
    To blind their vision, and their hearts to bow?
    Traitors to all that manhood holds most dear,
    Without remorse, with neither hope nor fear,
    They trail our starry banner in the dust,
    And flaunt their own base emblem in the gust;
    Like the arch-fiend, who from a Heaven once fell,
    They'd pull us down to their own fearful hell!

    A boon! O God! a boon from thee we crave--
    Shine on this gloomy darkness of the grave;
    Stretch forth thine arm, and let the waves be still,
    And Union triumph, as it must and will.
    God of our Fathers! guide our arms aright,
    Be near and with us in the deadly fight;
    Columbia's banner may we still uphold,
    And keep each star bright in its azure fold.

    We mourn for those who sleep beneath the wave,
    Or on the land have found a soldier's grave;
    Each heart will be an altar to their fame,
    And ever sacred kept each glorious name.
    We'll honor those who nobly fought and bled,
    And fighting fell, where freedom's banner led;
    Each soldier-son, we'll welcome to our arms,
    When strife has ceased its din and dread alarms!

    Our soldiers, home returning from the wars,
    Our dames shall nourish--honored scars
    Shall mark them heroes, and they live to tell
    How once they battled--battled brave and well--
    For home and country--mountain, plain, and dell--
    And how the nation like a phenix rose
    From out its ashes, spite of fiendish foes;
    Then once again Columbia shall be blest--
    Home of the free, and land for the oppressed!

[Illustration: The preacher from Hepsidam. See page 308.]




CHAPTER XXXII.

     An Incident of the 5th O. V. I. -- How to Avoid the Draft --
     Keep the Soldiers' Letters -- New Use of Blood-hounds --
     Proposition to Hang the Dutch Soldiers -- Stolen Stars.


AN INCIDENT OF THE 5th O. V. I.

There is no regiment in the service that has won more enviable renown
than the glorious old 5th; and, although I have met them but twice in
my peregrinations, I can not let them go unnoticed in this volume.
Many of the boys I knew intimately--none better than young Jacobs, who
was killed near Fredericksburg, Virginia. A writer in the Cincinnati
_Commercial_, soon after his death, penned the following merited
tribute to his memory:

Noble deeds have been recorded, during the past two years, of the
faithful in our armies, who have struggled amid carnage and blood to
consecrate anew our altar of liberty--deeds which have stirred the
slumbering fires of patriotism in ten thousand hearts, and revived the
nation's hope. I can well conceive that it would be asking too much to
record every merited deed of our brave officers and men; but, while
too many have strayed from the ranks when their strong arms have been
most needed, will you allow a passing tribute to the memory of one
who was always at his post of duty?

Henry G. Jacobs, a private in Company C, 5th Regiment O. V. I., who
was killed in battle near Fredericksburg, Virginia, was the second son
of E. Jacobs, Esq., of Walnut Hills. He enlisted in May, 1861, and
had, consequently, been in the service two years. Since his regiment
left Camp Dennison, he had never been absent from it a day until he
fought his last battle. I need not speak of his deeds of personal
bravery, for he belonged to a regiment of heroes. For unflinching
courage on the field of battle, the 5th Ohio has few parallels and no
superior. In that respect, the history of one is the history of all.
In the battle of Winchester, Henry escaped with two ball-holes in his
coat. In the battle of Port Republic, only one (a young man from
Cincinnati) besides himself, of all his company who were in the
action, escaped capture. They reached the mountains after being fired
at several times, and, two days after, they arrived at their camp. At
the battle of Cedar Mountain the stock of his gun was shattered in his
hands by a rebel shot. He was in the battles of Antietam and South
Mountain, and in over twenty considerable skirmishes.

Last autumn, his sister wrote, urging him to ask for a furlough and
visit home, if but for a few days. His answer was: "Our country needs
every man at his post, and my place is here with my regiment till this
rebellion is put down." No young man could be more devotedly attached
to his home, yet he wrote, last winter: "I have never asked for a
furlough since I have been in the service; but, if you think father's
life is in danger from the surgical operation which is to be
performed upon his arm, I will try to get home; for you do not know
how deeply I share with you all in this affliction."

His talents and education fitted him for what his friends considered a
higher position than the one he occupied. Accordingly, application was
made to the Governor to commission him as a lieutenant in one of the
new regiments. In signing the application, Professor D. H. Allen, of
Lane Seminary, prefaced his signature as follows: "I know no young man
in the ranks who, in my opinion, is better qualified for an officer in
the army than Henry C. Jacobs." In this opinion W. S. Scarborough,
Esq., Colonel A. E. Jones, and many others who were personally
acquainted with him, heartily concurred. Such encouragement was
received from the Governor as led his sister to write, congratulating
him upon the prospect of his appointment. His answer was: "I had
rather be a private in the 5th Ohio than captain in any new regiment.
In fact, I do not want a commission. When I enlisted, it was not for
pay; I never expected to receive one dollar. I have fought in many
battles, and served my country to the best of my ability; and I wish
to remain in the position I now occupy till the war is over."

It is not only to offer a tribute to the memory of Henry that I would
intrude upon your readers, but, by presenting an example, encourage
faithfulness and patriotic devotion to the cause of liberty. If any
man, officer or private, has been more faithful, his be the higher
monument in a grateful nation's heart when treason is no more. He
shouldered his musket, and it was at his country's service every hour
till it was laid down beside his bleeding, mangled body, on the banks
of the Rappahannock. If my country ever forgets such heroes as these,
her very name should perish forever. Young men whose hearts are not
stirred within them to rush into the breach, avenge the fallen brave,
and save their country, are making for themselves no enviable future.
Who that calls himself a man will sit with folded arms and careless
mien, under the shade of the tree of liberty, while the wild boar is
whetting his tusks against its bark, and the gaunt stag rudely tears
its branches? It was planted in tears and watered with blood; and if
you do not protect it now, your names will perish.

Henry had made two firm resolves: one was to keep out of the hospital,
and the other was to keep out of the hands of the rebels. He would not
be taken a prisoner, and, if die he must, he preferred the
battle-field to the hospital. He has realized his wish, and though the
bitterness of our anguish at his loss may only wear out with our
lives, our country, in his death, has lost more than his kindred. We
are making history for all time to come. Eternity will tell its own
story of unending joy for those who have freely shed their blood to
lay a firm foundation for the happiness of millions yet unborn.

  "Give me the death of those
    Who for their country die;
  And O! be mine like their repose,
    When cold and low they lie!

  "Their loveliest Mother Earth
    Entwines the fallen brave;
  In her sweet lap who gave them birth
    They find their tranquil grave."


HOW TO AVOID THE DRAFT.

During the troubles of raising men, a rough-looking customer,
determined upon evasion, called upon the Military Commission, when the
following colloquy ensued, the individual in question remarking:

"Mr. Commissioner, I'm over forty-five."

"How old _are_ you?"

"I don't know how old I am; but I'm over _forty-five_."

"In what year did you make your appearance on this mundane sphere?"

"I don't know what you mean; but I'm over forty-five."

"When were you born?"

"I don't know; but I'm over forty-five."

"How am I to know you are over age?"

"I don't know and I don't care; but I'm over forty-five."

"When were you forty-five?"

"I don't know; but I know I'm over forty-five."

"You must give me some proof that you are over age."

"I've been in the country thirty-six years, and I'm over forty-five."

"That does not prove that you are too old to be drafted."

"I don't care; I know I'm over forty-five."

"I shall not erase your name until you prove your age."

"I tell you I've been in this country thirty-six years, and I went
sparking before I came here, and I'm over forty-five."

"Will you swear it?"

"Yes, I'm over forty-five. D----d if I aint over forty-five."

"Well, I will exempt you."

"I don't care whether you do or not, for _I've got a wooden leg_."


NEW USE OF BLOOD-HOUNDS.

One fine summer's Sunday afternoon, as a steamboat was stopping at a
landing on the Mississippi to take in wood, the passengers were
surprised to see two or three young, athletic negroes perched upon a
tree like monkeys, and about as many blood-hounds underneath, barking
and yelping, and jumping up in vain endeavors to seize the frightened
negroes. The overseer was standing by, encouraging the dogs, and
several bystanders were looking on, enjoying the sport. It was only
the owner of some blood-hounds training his dogs, and keeping them in
practice, so as to be able to hunt down the runaways, who often
secrete themselves in the woods. It was thought fine sport, and
useful, too, in its way, ten years ago.

But now the same hounds are being made use of, all through Alabama and
Mississippi, and, we have no doubt, in other of the Southern States,
to hunt down white men hiding in the woods to escape the fierce
conscription act, which is now seizing about every man under sixty
years of age able to carry a gun. Nor is this the worst. It is found
that those camped out are supplied with food brought them by their
children, who go out apparently to play in the woods, and then slip
off and carry provisions to their fathers. To meet this exigency,
blood-hounds are now employed to follow these little children on their
pious errands, and the other day a beautiful little girl was thus
chased and overtaken in the woods, and there torn in pieces, alone and
unaided, by the trained blood-hounds of Jefferson Davis! Nor is this a
solitary case. It appears that many white men, women, and children
have thus been sacrificed, in order to carry out the conscription act
in all its terrors.

In a large number of cases, those who are thus hunted down are such as
have in some way exhibited Union proclivities; for, although such have
ceased to offer any opposition to the rebels, they do not like taking
up arms against the flag of the Union, to which many of them have, in
former days, sworn allegiance. These persons, and all suspected, are
especially marked out as objects of the conscription and the
blood-hound, be their ages and fighting qualities what they may. And
these are the men hunted down with dogs, and their wives and their
children, if they attempt to follow them. There are, however, many men
not Unionists, and willing to contribute of their property to any
amount to support the rebels, but now being drawn into the
conscription, or, having tasted the desperate neglects of the rebel
service, have deserted, and will not again take up arms. Their wives
are ladies, most delicate and tender, and their children brought up
with a refinement and delicacy of the most perfect character, until
this war began. And these are the women that now have to wander alone
in the woods, in search of their husbands and brothers and sons; and
these are the little girls, who, going to carry food to their
relatives, are liable at any moment to be overtaken by swift hounds,
let loose and set upon their track by the agents of Jefferson Davis.

It may be doubted if war itself, ever but once in the history of
mankind, proved so disastrous to a people, by the hands of those
engaged in carrying it on. Perhaps, in the final destruction of
Jerusalem, there may have been scenes of greater and more fiendish
cruelty by the factions of John and Simon destroying each other, while
both were at war with the Romans. And what must be the state of the
South, when a delicate woman, who would hardly set her feet on the
ground for delicacy, and used to have servants to attend upon her
every wish and want, is reduced to straits like these, and children
are torn to pieces by the dogs of humble hunters after white flesh for
Jefferson Davis's shambles!


KEEP THE SOLDIERS' LETTERS.

Mother, father, brother, sister, wife, sweetheart, keep that bundle
sacredly! Each word will be historic, each line invaluable. When peace
has restored the ravages of war, and our nation's grandeur has made
this struggle the most memorable of those great conflicts by which
ideas are rooted into society, these pen-pictures of the humblest
events, the merest routine details of the life led in winning national
unity and freedom, will be priceless. Not for the historian's sake
alone, do I say, keep those letters, but for your sakes who receive
them, and ours who write them. The next skirmish may stop our pulses
forever, and our letters, full of love for you, will be our only
legacy besides that of having died in a noble cause. And should we
survive the war, with health and limb uninjured, or bowed with
sickness or crippled with wounds, those letters will be dear mementoes
to us of dangers past, of trials borne, of privations suffered, of
comrades beloved. Keep our letters, then, and write to us all the home
news and "gossip." Bid us Godspeed. Speak kindly, loving, courageous
words to us. If you can't be Spartans--and we don't want you to be--be
"lovers, countrymen, and friends." So shall our feet fall lighter, and
our sabers heavier!


PROPOSITION TO HANG THE DUTCH SOLDIERS.

The following specimen of "chivalric" literature is copied from the
Knoxville _Register_, of June 12, 1862:

Of late, in all battles and in all recent incursions made by Federal
cavalry, we have found the great mass of Northern soldiers to consist
of Dutchmen. The plundering thieves captured by Forrest, who stole
half the jewelry and watches in a dozen counties of Alabama, were
immaculate Dutchmen. The national odor of Dutchmen, as distinctive of
the race as that which, constantly ascending to heaven, has distended
the nostrils of the negro, is as unmistakable as that peculiar to a
polecat, an old pipe, or a lager-beer saloon. Crimes, thefts, and
insults to the women of the South invariably mark the course of these
stinking bodies of _sour-krout_. Rosecrans himself is an unmixed
Dutchman, an accursed race which has overrun the vast districts of
the country of the North-west.... It happens that we entertain a
greater degree of respect for an Ethiopian in the ranks of the
Northern armies, than for an odoriferous Dutchman, who can have no
possible interest in this revolution.

Why not hang every Dutchman captured? We will, hereafter, hang, shoot,
or imprison for life all white men taken in the command of negroes,
and enslave the negroes themselves. This is not too harsh. No human
being will assert the contrary. Why, then, should we not hang a
Dutchman, who deserves infinitely less of our sympathy than Sambo? The
live masses of beer, krout, tobacco, and rotten cheese, which, on two
legs and four (on foot and mounted), go prowling through the South,
should be used to manure the sandy plains and barren hill-sides of
Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia.... Whenever a Dutch regiment adorns
the limbs of a Southern forest, daring cavalry raids into the South
shall cease.... President Davis need not be specially consulted; and
if an accident of this sort should occur to a plundering band, like
that captured by Forrest, we are not inclined to believe our President
would be greatly dissatisfied.

       *       *       *       *       *

"My young colored friend," said a benevolent chaplain to a contraband,
"can you read?"

"Yes, sah," was the reply.

"Glad to hear it. Shall I give you a paper?"

"Sartin, massa, if you please."

"What paper would you choose?" asked the chaplain.

"_If you chews_, I'll take a paper of terbacker."


THE STOLEN STARS.

     [At a dinner party, at which were present Major-General
     Lewis Wallace, Thomas Buchanan Read, and James E. Murdoch, a
     conversation sprung up respecting ballads for the soldiers.
     The General maintained that hardly one had been written
     suited for the camp. It was agreed that each of them should
     write one. The following is that by General Wallace:]

    When good old Father Washington
      Was just about to die,
    He called our Uncle Samuel
      Unto his bedside nigh;
    "This flag I give you, Sammy, dear,"
      Said Washington, said he;
    "Where e'er it floats, on land or wave,
      My children shall be free."

    And fine old Uncle Samuel
      He took the flag from him,
    And spread it on a long pine pole,
      And prayed, and sung a hymn.
    A pious man was Uncle Sam,
      Back fifty years and more;
    The flag should fly till Judgment-day,
      So, by the Lord, he swore.

    And well he kept that solemn oath;
      He kept it well, and more:
    The thirteen stars first on the flag
      Soon grew to thirty-four;
    And every star bespoke a State,
      Each State an empire won.
    No brighter were the stars of night
      Than those of Washington.

    Beneath that flag two brothers dwelt;
      To both 't was very dear;
    The name of one was Puritan,
      The other Cavalier.
    "Go, build ye towns," said Uncle Sam,
      Unto those brothers dear;
    "Build anywhere, for in the world
      You've none but God to fear."

    "I'll to the South," said Cavalier,
      "I'll to the South," said he;
    "I'll to the North," said Puritan,
      "The North's the land for me."
    Each took a flag, each left a tear
      To good old Uncle Sam;
    He kissed the boys, he kissed the flags,
      And, doleful, sung a psalm.

    And in a go-cart Puritan
      His worldly goods did lay;
    With wife and gun and dog and ax,
      He, singing, went his way.
    Of buckskin was his Sunday suit,
      His wife wore linsey-jeans;
    And fat they grew, like porpoises,
      On hoe-cake, pork, and beans.

    But Cavalier a Cockney was;
      He talked French and Latin;
    Every day he wore broadcloth,
      While his wife wore satin.
    He went off in a painted ship--
      In glory he did go;
    A thousand niggers up aloft,
      A thousand down below.

    The towns were built, as I've heard said;
      Their likes were never seen;
    They filled the North, they filled the South,
      They filled the land between.
    "The Lord be praised!" said Puritan;
      "Bully!" said Cavalier;
    "There's room and town-lots in the West,
      If there isn't any here."

    Out to the West they journeyed then,
      And in a quarrel got;
    One said 't was his, he knew it was,
      The other said 't was not.
    One drew a knife, a pistol t' other,
      And dreadfully they swore;
    From Northern lake to Southern gulf
      Wild rang the wordy roar.

    All the time good old Uncle Sam
      Sat by his fireside near,
    Smokin' of his kinnikinnick,
      And drinkin' lager-beer.
    He laughed and quaffed, and quaffed and laughed,
      Nor thought it worth his while,
    Until the storm in fury burst
      On Sumter's sea-girt isle.

    O'er the waves to the smoking fort,
      When came the dewy dawn,
    To see the flag he looked--and lo!
      _Eleven stars were gone!_
    "My pretty, pretty stars," he cried,
      And down did roll a tear.
    "I've got your stars, old Fogy Sam,
      Ha, ha!" laughed Cavalier.

    "I've got your stars in my watch-fob;
      Come take them if you dare!"
    And Uncle Sam he turned away,
      Too full of wrath to swear.
    "Let thunder all the drums!" he cried,
      While swelled his soul, like Mars;
    "A million Northern boys I'll get
      To bring me home my stars."

    And on his mare, stout Betsey Jane,
      To Northside town he flew;
    The dogs they barked, the bells did ring,
      And countless bugles blew.
    "My stolen stars!" cried Uncle Sam,
      "My stolen stars!" cried he,
    "A million soldiers I must have
      To bring them back to me."

    "Dry up your tears, good Uncle Sam;
      Dry up!" said Puritan,
    "We'll bring you home your stolen stars,
      Or perish every man!"
    And at the words a million rose,
      All ready for the fray;
    And columns formed, like rivers deep,
      And Southward marched away.

       *       *       *       *       *

    And still old Uncle Samuel
      Sits by his fireside near,
    Smokin' of his kinnikinnick
      And drinkin' lager-beer;
    While there's a tremble in the earth,
      A gleaming of the sky,
    And the rivers stop to listen
      As the million marches by.




DEBATE

between Rev. Ebenezer SLABSIDES and Honorable Felix GARROTTE,

Delivered Before General ROSECRANS and the Society of the Toki.


     The subject of discussion was--"WHO DESERVED THE GREATEST
     PRAISE: MR. COLUMBUS, FOR DISCOVERING AMERICA, OR MR.
     WASHINGTON, FOR DEFENDING IT AFTER IT WAS DISCOVERED?" The
     two characters are personated by an instantaneous change of
     feature.

[The Honorable FELIX GARROTTE arose, and said:]

Mr. President, and Gentlemen of this Lyceum:

I suppose the whole country is aware that I take sides with Mr.
Kerlumbus, and I hope, Mr. President, that I may be allowed to go a
leetle into detail in regard to the history of my hero. I find, Mr.
President, after a deal of research, that Mr. Kerlumbus was born in
the year 1492, at Rome, a small town situated on the banks of the
Nile, a small creek that takes its rise in the Alps, and flows in a
south-westerly direction, and empties into the Gulf of Mexico.

Mr. Kerlumbus's parents were poor; his father was a basket-maker, and,
being in such low circumstances, was unable to give his only son that
education which his talents and genius demanded. He therefore bound
him out to a shepherd, who sot him to watchin' swine on the banks of
the Nile; and it was thar, sir, by a cornstalk and rush-light fire, a
readin' the history of Robinson Crusoe, that first inspired in his
youthful breast the seeds of sympathy and ambition. Sympathy for what?
Why, sir, to rescue that unfortunate hero, Mr. Crusoe, from his
solitary and lone situation upon the island of Juan Fernandeze, and
restore him to the bosom of his family in Germany. He accordingly made
immediate application to Julius Cæsar for two canoes and a yawl, eight
men, and provisions to last him a three-days' cruise; but, sir, he was
indignantly refused. He was tuk up the next day and tried by a
court-martial for treason, and sentenced to two months' banishment
upon the island of Cuba--a small island situated in the Mediterranean
Sea--which has lately been purchased by the Sons of Malta for Jeff
Davis.

But, sir, he was not to be intimidated by this harsh and cruel
treatment. No, sir-ee; on the contrary, he was inspired with renewed
zeal and energy; and I can put into the mouth of my hero the immortal
words which Milton spoke to the Duke of Wellington, at the siege of
Yorktown:

  "Once more into the breach, dear friends!"

Well, after the tarm of his banishment had expired, he returned to
Rome, and he found that Cæsar had died again, and that Alexander the
Great had succeeded him. Well, he made the same demand of Alexander
that he made of Mr. Cæsar, but he met with a similar denial; but,
finally, through the intermediation of Cleopatra, (that was Aleck's
first wife,) he ultimately succeeded.

It is unnecessary for me to go into a detail of his outfit and voyage.
Suffice it to say, that, after having been tossed about upon waves
that ran mountain-high, all his crew was lost, except himself and a
small boy, and they were thrown upon the state of insensibility.

Well, when he came-to, he rose up, in the majesty of his strength, and
found he was upon an island; so he pulled out his red cotton bandana
handkercher, tied it to a fish-pole, and rared the stake of Alexander,
and took formal possession of the territory in his name, and he called
it San Salvador; that was in honor of Cleopatra's eldest daughter.

Well now, you see, Cleopatra was so well pleased with the honor
conferred upon her daughter, that she migrated to this country for to
settle; hence you see the long line of distinguished antecedents that
she left here previously, and they are known as _pat_riots, from
Cleo_patra_.

Now, sir, having accomplished the great and paramount object of his
life, he was ready for to die. The natives, therefore, for intrudin'
upon their sile, tuk him prisoner, stripped him of his hunting-shirt
and other clothing, tarred and feathered him, and rid him on a rail!
Thus perished that truly great and good man, who lived and died for
mankind. One more remark, Mr. President, and then I am done; and I lay
it down as a particular pint in my argument. If it had not have been
for Mr. Kerlumbus, Mr. Washington would never have been born; besides
all this, Mr. Washington was a coward. With these remarks, I leave the
floor to abler hands.

     [Here Mr. SLABSIDES arose, much excited at hearing Mr.
     Washington called a coward, and said:]

Mr. President: I, sir, for one, am sureptaciously surprised at the
quiet manner in which you have listened to the base suspersions cast
upon that glorious and good man. Mr. Washington a coward! Why, sir,
lockjawed be the mouth that spoke it. Mr. Washington a coward! Mr.
President, my blood's a-bilin' at the idea. Why, sir, look at him at
the battle of Tippecanoe! Look at him at the battle of Sarah Gordon!
Look at him at the battle of New Orleans! Did he display cowardice
thar, sir, or at any of the similar battles that he fout? I ask you,
sir, did he display cowardice at the battle of New Orleans?

     [Mr. GARROTTE arose, and responded to the question. Said he:]

The gentleman will allow me to correct him, one moment. Mr.
Washington, sir, never fit the battle of New Orleans. He couldn't have
fout that battle, for he'd been dead more'n _two weeks_ afore that ar
battle was ever fout. He never fit the battle of New Orleans.

Mr. Slabsides.--Will the gentleman--will Mr. Garrotte please state who
it was that fit the battle of New Orleans? The gentleman has seen fit
to interrupt me; will he please to state who it was fit the battle of
New Orleans?

Hon. Felix Garrotte.--If the gentleman will have patience to turn to
Josephus, or read Benjamin Franklin's History of the Black-Hawk War,
you will thar learn, sir, that it was General Douglas that fit the
battle of New Orleans.

Mr. Slabsides.--I thank my very learned opponent, not only for his
instructions, but more especially for his corrections, in which he has
shown himself totally ignorant of history, men, and things. I contend,
Mr. President, notwithstanding the gentleman's assertion to the
contrary, that Mr. Washington not only fit the battle of New Orleans,
but that he is _alive now_, sir! I have only to pint you, Mr.
President, and gentlemen of this lyceum, to his quiet and retired home
at _Sandoval_, on the banks of the Tombigbee River, whar he now
resides, conscious of his private worth and of the glorious
achievements heaped upon his grateful brow by his aged countrymen; and
allow me to call your attention to the fact that General Douglas never
fit the battle of New Orleans. He couldn't have fout that battle,
cause he was dead. Yes, sir, and I can prove it, if you'll have the
patience to turn and look over Horace Greeley's History of the Kansas
Hymn-book War; for there you will find that General Douglas, at the
head of an army of negroes, made a desperate charge on Mason and
Dixon's line, and Horace said he never breathed afterward.

     [Hereupon the speaker left in disgust at the ignorance of
     his opponent.]




A SERMON FROM THE HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS.

Preached before General Rosecrans and Staff.


My Beluved Brethering:

I am a plain and unlarnt preacher, of whom you've no doubt heern on
afore; and I now appear to expound the scripters, and pint out the
narrow way which leads from a vain world to the streets of the
Juroosalum; and my tex which I shall choose for the occasion is
somewhar between the second Chronikills and the last chapter of
Timothy Titus, and when found you will find it in these words: "And
they shall gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar
the lion roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."

Now, my beluved brethering, as I have afore told you, I am an
unedicated man, and know nothing about grammar talk and collidge
highfaluting; but I'm a plain, unlarnt preacher of the Gospil, what's
been foreordained, and called to expound the scripters to a dyin'
world, and prepare a perverse generation for the day of wrath; "for
they shall gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar
the lion roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."

My beluved brethering, the text says "they shall gnaw a file." It
don't say they _may_, but they _shall_. And now, there's more'n one
kind of file: there's the hand-saw file, rat-tail file, single file,
double file, and profile; but the kind of file spoken of here isn't
one of them kind neither, because it's a figger of speech, my
brethering, and means goin' it alone, getting ukered; "for they shall
gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar the lion
roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."

And now, there be some here with fine clothes on thar backs, brass
rings on thar fingers, and lard on thar har, what goes it while
they're young; and thar be brothers here what, as long as thar
constitutions and forty-cent whisky last, goes it blind; and thar be
sisters here what, when they get sixteen years old, cut thar
tiller-ropes and goes it with a rush. But I say, my brethering, take
care you don't find, when Gabriel blows his last trump, that you've
all went it alone and got ukered; "for they shall gnaw a file, and
flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam."

And, my brethering, there's more dam beside Hepsidam: thar's
Rotterdam, Haddam, Amsterdam, mill-dam, and don't-care-a-dam; the last
of which, my dear brethering, is the worst of all, and reminds me of a
circumstance I once knew in the State of Illinoy. There was a man what
built him a mill on the east fork of Auger Creek, and it was a good
mill, and ground a site of grain; but the man what built it was a
miserable sinner, and never give any thing to the church; and, my
brethering, one night thar come a dreadful storm of wind and rain, and
the fountains of the great deep was broken up, and the waters rushed
down and swept that man's mill-dam into kingdom come, and, lo, and
behold! in the morning, when he got up, he found he was not worth a
dam. Now, my young brethering, when storms of temptation overtake ye,
take care you don't fall from grace, and become like that mill--not
worth a dam; "for they shall gnaw a file, and flee unto the mountains
of Hepsidam, whar the lion roareth and the whang-doodle mourneth for
its first-born."

"Whar the whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born." This part of the
tex, my brethering, is another figger of speech, and isn't to be taken
as it says. It doesn't mean the howlin' wilderness whar John the
Hard-shell Baptist was fed on locusts and wild asses; but it means, my
brethering, the city of New Yorleans, whar corn is worth six bits a
bushel one day, and nary red the next; whar gamblers, thieves, and
pickpockets go skiting about the streets like weasels in a barnyard;
whar they have cream-colored hosses, gilded carriages, marble saloons
with brandy and sugar in 'em; whar honest men are scarcer than hens'
teeth; and whar a strange woman once tuk in your beluved preacher, and
bamboozled him out of two hundred and twenty-seven dollars; but she
can't do it again, hallelujah! For "they shall gnaw a file, and flee
unto the mountains of Hepsidam, whar the lion roareth and the
whang-doodle mourneth for its first-born."

Brother Flint will please pass round the hat, and let every Hard-shell
shell out.




THE END.




RICKEY & CARROLL'S

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=Lawson on Consumption.=

A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON PHTHISIS PULMONALIS: Embracing its Pathology,
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the Theory and Practice of Medicine in the Medical College of Ohio;
formerly Professor of Clinical Medicine in the University of
Louisiana, and Visiting Physician to the New Orleans Charity Hospital,
etc.

One vol., 8vo.; pp. 557; Sheep                         Price, =$3.50=.

       *       *       *       *       *

=Flourens on the Circulation of the Blood.=

A HISTORY OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD. By P.
FLOURENS, Perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Sciences, (Institute
of France); Member of the Royal Societies and Academies of Science of
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One vol., 16mo.; Cloth                                   Price, =75c=.

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=Newton and Powell on the Eclectic Practice of Medicine.=

THE ECLECTIC PRACTICE OF MEDICINE (DISEASES OF CHILDREN). By Wm. BYRD
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=Mystic Circle.=

THE MYSTIC CIRCLE, AND AMERICAN HAND-BOOK OF MASONRY. Containing a
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Large 12mo.; pp. 472; Roan                             Price, =$2.00=.

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=Zachos' High-School Speaker.=

THE HIGH-SCHOOL SPEAKER: A Collection of Declamations, Poetic Pieces,
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16mo.; half-bound                                        Price, =75c=.

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=Trial of Vallandigham.=

THE TRIAL OF CLEMENT L. VALLANDIGHAM, BY A MILITARY COMMISSION, and
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=Catalogue Raisonne.=

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=Sioux Massacre in Minnesota.=

A HISTORY OF THE MASSACRE OF THE WHITE INHABITANTS OF THE BORDER
COUNTIES OF MINNESOTA BY THE SIOUX INDIANS, in August, 1862, with its
Antecedents and Consequences; including the Personal Narratives of
many who Escaped. By Charles S. BRYANT, A. M., of St. Peter, Minn.

12mo.; pp. 500; Cloth                                  Price, =$1.50=.


In a letter to Mr. Bryant, Governor Henry A. Swift, of Minnesota,
says:

"Your position was such that you could not fail fully to understand
the thrilling events of which your history treats; and those who know
you will not doubt your ability to array the facts in your possession
in such a manner as to give the reader a truthful and highly
interesting account of the times of which you are writing."


Hon. Peter G. Washington says:

"The narratives are of thrilling interest; and, given as they are,
either in the handwriting or directly from the lips of those who,
miraculously escaping the perils of the tomahawk, the rifle, and
starvation, both saw and suffered, from the incidents they relate,
bear throughout the unmistakable impress of truth, and must carry
conviction to the mind of every reader."


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=Arguments and Addresses.=

By Hon. William JOHNSTON, formerly Judge of the Superior Court of
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8vo.; about 500 pages; Cloth.

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