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THRILLING STORIES 
 
 GREAT REBELLION 
 
THRILLING STOEIES 
 
 GREAT REBELLION 
 
 COMPEISmO 
 
 HEROIC ADVENTURES AND HAIR- 
 BREADTH ESCAPES OF SOLDIERS, SCOUTS, 
 SPIES, AND REFUGEES; DARING EXPLOITS OF SMUG- 
 GLERS, GUERRILLAS, DESPERADOES, AND OTHERS; TALES OF 
 LOYAL AND DISLOYAL WOMEN; STORIES OF THE NEGRO, ETC. ETC. 
 
 WITH INCIDENTS OF FUN AND MERKIMENT IN CAMP AND FIELD. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN ; FATE 
 
 OF THE ASSASSINS; CAPTURE OF JEFFERSON 
 
 DAVIS, AND END OF THE WAR. 
 
 BY / 
 
 LiEUTENANT-CoLONEL CHARLES S. GREENE. 
 
 LATE OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN E. POTTER & CO. 
 
 No. 617 S A N S M STREET. 
 
 y 
 
Enteked according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1864, b*' 
 
 JOHN E. POTTER, 
 
 in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States in 
 and for the Eastern District of the State of Pennsylvania. 
 
 COLLINS, PRINTER, 705 JAYNE STREET. 
 
 ^oi^ 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In the quick succession of surprising events which have 
 characterized our country's history since the outbreak of the 
 great rebellion, it has been beyond the power of any one to 
 retain more than fragmentary, disconnected impressions of 
 scenes and incidents which would prove a valuable addition 
 to one's stock of information, could they but be permanently 
 located in memory's storehouse. 
 
 Detailed histories and ofl&cial records must, of necessity, 
 be resorted to for the graver and weightier matters connected 
 with our present struggle for a national existence ; of such, 
 fortunately, there bids fair to be no lack. The earnest inquirer 
 after the outline facts of the contest will be at no loss to 
 discover a variety of sources whence he may glean all that 
 he desires. 
 
 Of the comparatively minor movements in the great 
 drama, however, there exists, at present, nothing which can 
 be regarded as a fitting repository. While the deeds and 
 misdeeds of the more prominent actors on the busy stage are 
 chronicled in formal phrases of eulogium or censure, the 
 almost innumerable multitude of incidents of adventure and 
 daring — ^the items of personal endurance and suffering — the 
 details of peril by flood and field — the rollicking, luxuriant 
 humor of the camp, cropping out in word and act — the hero- 
 ism of the hospital — the devotion of friendship — indeed, the 
 large majority of individual cases, among the less known 
 and famous, which, in reality, serve to make the present war 
 
 ( 5) 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 what it is — have thus far been consigned, if noticed at all, 
 to the columns of the newspaper, one day read and the 
 next day forgotten, or to the, pages of the letter, intended for 
 but few eyes. 
 
 This ought not so to be. He who would form a correct 
 opinion as to the present rebellion as a whole, must carefully 
 examine the various parts which compose it. In this view, 
 scarcely anything bearing upon the contest can be deemed 
 insignificant or trivial, nothing, certainly, " common or un- 
 clean." 
 
 To rescue this class of incidents from oblivion, to present 
 them in an attractive garb, carefully discriminating between 
 fact and fancy, to collect what else would be fugitive and 
 ephemeral in a permanent and acceptable form — these were 
 the objects contemplated in the preparation of the following 
 pages. 
 
 They cannot fail to prove of interest to all. They narrate 
 of our common humanity, when most sorely tried and tempted, 
 whose manifestations have ever, since man was, stirred the 
 blood and enkindled the heart. I'hey record deeds in sym- 
 pathy with which ''the common pulse of man keeps time." 
 
 Not a moment of the hours of enforced leisure which have 
 been directed to the selection, condensation, and arrangement 
 of the pages which follow is regretted by the compiler. He 
 knows not that he could have been better or more pleasantly 
 employed. 
 
 To the thousands of loyal men and women, whose prayers, 
 wishes, and efforts go forth so earnestly and incessantly for 
 the cause of right and truih, the cause of our common counv 
 try, and of man wherever found, this book is submitted, 
 with the confident assurance that it contains much, at least, 
 that all desire to remember, and little, if any, that deserves 
 to be forgotten. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Great Railroad Adventure . . . .11 
 
 A PropTietic Presentiment 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 Adventure of a Spy .... 
 
 
 
 20 
 
 The Negro Tillman's Narrative 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 Zagonyi's Famous Charge 
 
 
 
 26 
 
 The Fearful Ordeal 
 
 
 
 40 
 
 The Frightened Speculators 
 
 
 
 41 
 
 The Daring Spy ... 
 
 
 
 43 
 
 Little Eddie, the Drummer-boy 
 
 
 
 55 
 
 Old Ben, the Mountain Scout . 
 
 
 
 60 
 
 Surrounding Five of Them 
 
 
 
 71 
 
 Army Wings, as explained by one of the Boys 
 
 
 
 . 71 
 
 Irish Wit Ever Eeady . ' 
 
 
 
 72 
 
 Hiss Oldom, the Kentucky Heroine 
 
 
 
 . 73 
 
 Fighting on His own Hook 
 
 
 
 . 74 
 
 Dahlgren's Famous Dash 
 
 
 
 .' 81 
 
 A Fighting Parson . . . . 
 
 • • 
 
 
 . 83 
 
 Taking it Coolly 
 
 
 
 . 85 
 
 Too Much for Her 
 
 
 
 . 85 
 
 A Nameless Spy 
 
 
 
 . 86 
 
 A Daring Deed 
 
 
 
 . 92 
 
 (1 ) 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Wouldn't Sell . 
 
 The Irish Sentinel 
 
 Good for the Belgians 
 
 The Hollow-Heeled Boot 
 
 Presence of Mind 
 
 An Ingenious Dodge 
 
 Old Gap of Tennessee 
 
 Going the "Whole Hog 
 
 Didn't Like It . 
 
 A Practical Joke 
 
 Praying for the President 
 
 The Quakers on the War-Path 
 
 The Scout's Story 
 
 In the Shenandoah Valley 
 
 Incidents of a Fight 
 
 A Heroic Sailor 
 
 Adventure of Killdare the Scout 
 
 The Night of the Battle of Ball's Bluff 
 
 Incidents of Fort Pickens ^ . 
 
 A Strange Sight in Battle 
 
 Heroism in the Hospital 
 
 Impudent Coolness 
 
 Joe Parsons the Maryland Boy 
 
 A Loyal Pigeon 
 
 Gathering in the Contrabands 
 
 John Morgan's Female Spy 
 
 Incidents of Grierson's Raid 
 
 Eddy McFadden 
 
 A Brave Boy and Gallant Sailor 
 
 Characteristic Incident 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Sallie Ricbmond and Devil Bill 
 
 Kentuck against Kentuck 
 
 The Scout's Eevenge 
 
 Why the Lieutenant Ate the Pie 
 
 A Gallant Lad . 
 
 On the Cumberland . . . 
 
 A Chat about Stone Eiver 
 
 The Wrong Leg 
 
 What it cost to be Loyal 
 
 A Desperate Hand-to-Hand Contest 
 
 Fists against Muskets . 
 
 Killed in Action 
 
 Drawing Eations 
 
 Hadn't Heard of the War 
 
 An Impromptu Duel 
 
 How Ike Barker was Whipped 
 
 Life at Elk Horn Tavern * 
 
 Escape from Libby Prison 
 
 Adventures of an Arkansas Eefugee 
 
 How the Secesh took Clark Wright 
 
 A Eace for Life 
 
 Pluck on the Frontier . 
 
 A Night Adventure on the Potomac 
 
 The Tennessee Blacksmith 
 
 A Conflict with Desperadoes . 
 
 Stealing a March 
 
 A Darkey in the Air 
 
 The Fourteenth at Gettysburg . 
 
 The Way Joe Allen Buried Yandegrift 
 
 Bragg and his High Private 
 
10 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Eight Man in the Eight Place 
 
 The Fight at Brandy . 
 
 Not the Eight " Sanders" 
 
 The Sharpshooter's Story 
 
 The Prose of Battles . 
 
 A Thrilling Scene in Tennessee 
 
 The Bogus Kentucky Unionist 
 
 A Contraband's Idea of War . 
 
 The Traitor Wagon-Master 
 
 A Cute Darkey . 
 
 Not Used to It . 
 
 Newcomer the Scout 
 
 Thrilling Adventure on a Eailway 
 
 The Great Conspiracy . 
 
 Assassination of President Lincoln 
 
 The Evacuation of Eichmond . 
 
 Attempted Assassination of Secretary Seward 
 
 Sam De Morse the Gruerrilla 
 
 Death of Booth the Assassin . 
 
 Hanging of the Conspirators . 
 
 How a Substitute Broker was Taken In 
 
 How the Alabama Unionists Hung a Guerrilla 
 
 Incidents in the Pursuit of Booth 
 
 Swearing a Contraband ^ . 
 
 Gen. McC all's First Escape 
 
 A Frightened African . 
 
 Capture of Jeff. -Davis . 
 
THEILLING STORIES 
 
 GKEAT REBELLION 
 
 THE GEEAT EAILKOAD ADVENTTTEE. 
 
 The expedition which is here recorded had, in the 
 daring of its conception, the wildness of a romance; 
 while in the gigantic and overwhelming results which it 
 sought and was likely to accomplish it was absolutely, 
 sublime. 
 
 In April, 1862, the rebel forces in the west, under 
 Beauregard, were concentrated at Corinth, Miss., with 
 smaller detachments scattered along the railroad to Chat- 
 tanooga, Tenn. The railroads on which he relied for 
 supplies and reinforcements, as well as for communica- 
 tion with the eastern portion of rebeldom, formed an irreg- 
 ular parallelogram, of which the northern side extended 
 from Memphis, Tenn., to Chattanooga ; the eastern from 
 Chattanooga to Atlanta, Ga. ; the southern from Atlanta 
 to Jackson, Miss. ; and the western, by a network of roads, 
 from Jackson to Memphis. The Great East Tennessee 
 and Yirginia E. E. intersected this parallelogram at Chat- 
 tanooga. By the obstruction of the northern and eastern 
 sides of this parallelogram Beauregard was isolated, and 
 East Tennessee, then in possession of the rebels, made 
 readily accessible to the Government forces. 
 
 A second military expedition was accordingly set on 
 foot, in that month, under the authoritv and direction of 
 
 ( 11 ) 
 
12 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE 
 
 Gen. 0. M. Mitchell, whose division was then at Shelby- 
 ville, Tenn., for the purpose of destroying the communi- 
 cation on the Georgia State E. E., between Atlanta and 
 Chattanooga. The expedition comprised twenty-three 
 men, under the lead of J. J. Andrews, a Kentuckian, 
 and the originator of the enterprise, who, with a single 
 exception, a Kentuckian, who acted as the substitute of 
 a soldier, had been selected from different companies in 
 Gen. M.'s division for their knoAvn courage and discretion. 
 
 The mode of operation proposed was to reach a point 
 on the road where they could seize a locomotive and train 
 of cars, and then dash back in the direction of Chatta- 
 nooga, cutting the telegraph wires and burning the 
 bridges behind them as they « advanced, until they 
 reached their own lines. 
 
 All understood that the service was secret and danger- 
 ous, and that if they were caught, hanging would probably 
 be their lot. The whole party, accordingly, were disguised 
 in citizen's dress, and on the seventh of April left camp, 
 at Shelbyville, and made for Manchester, Tenn. Great 
 difiiculty was experienced in passing their own pickets, 
 and several were near being shot. At Manchester they 
 represented themselves as Kentuckians on their way to 
 Chattanooga to join the rebel army. After leaving that 
 point they fell in with rebel sympathizers, who furnished 
 them with letters and passes to their friends in Chatta- 
 nooga. At this time the party divided into squads of 
 two and four, and started ahead of each other, all, how- 
 ever, with the same story as to their ul^mate object. 
 
 After five days the party met at Chattanooga, and at 
 once took the cars for Marietta, Ga. Before leaving 
 Andrews divided among them seven hundred dollars of 
 Confederate script, and told them that they were soon to 
 enter upon their dangerous duty, but the first man that 
 got drunk or flinched in the least, he would shoot him 
 dead on the spot ; that the object must be accomplished, 
 or they must leave their bones in Dixie. 
 
TJIE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 13 
 
 After a journey of about eighteen hours, they arrived 
 at Marietta, Ga., and put up at a tavern. The next 
 morning before daylight they again took the cars, and 
 went back the same road to a place called Big Shanty, a 
 refreshment saloon on the line of the Georgia and Atlanta 
 State Koad, where were encamped about tv/enty thousand 
 Confederate troops. It was the general rendezvous for 
 recruits and the organization of regiments. The train 
 contained a number of soldiers as well as citizens, together 
 with a quantity of provisions, and an iron safe containing 
 a large amount of Confederate script, to pay the troops 
 at Corinth. This portion of the road is built over innu- 
 merable creeks and rivers, and crosses the Tennessee 
 Eiver at Bridgeport, where a fine bridge is erected. 
 
 The whole party, consisting of twenty, left the cars and 
 divided into squads of three and four, taking stations on 
 each side of the train, Andrews stationing himself at the 
 coupling-pin of the third car. A number of the party 
 were engineers, and thoroughly understood the business 
 on hand. One of the engineers was at his post, and found 
 everything all right. All hands now mounted the cars, 
 although the guard was within three feet of them ; the 
 word was given, Andrews drew the coupling-pin, and 
 cried all right. 
 
 The train, now consisting- of three cars and the engine, 
 was started oft' with as little noise as possible. They soon 
 lost sight of the lights at Big Shanty, and at the first 
 curve the train was stopped, and one of the party climbed 
 the telegraph-pole and cut the wires. They then started, 
 and the next point tore up the track, and took a rail with 
 them on the car ; and thus they continued, tearing up the 
 track and cutting the wires on the other side, after pass- 
 ing a town. Unfortunately, however, the train was run- 
 ning in a very slow schedule, and they were compelled 
 to switch off and let the down-train pass. At the first 
 station this occurred, the engineer of the road made his 
 appearance, and was about to step on the engine, when 
 
14 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 
 
 Andrews told him he could not come on board, as this 
 wag an extra train to run through to Corinth, and the 
 present party were engaged to carry it there, and in sup- 
 port of the assertion the iron safe was shown. This ap- 
 parently satisfied the engineer, and they took in wood 
 and water, and again started. A second time they were 
 compelled to switch off, and in order to get the switch- 
 keys, Andrews, who knew the road well, went into the 
 station and took them from the of&ce. This caused con- 
 siderable excitement, but it was quieted in a measure by 
 stating that the train contained gunpowder for Beaure- 
 gard, at Corinth, and soon after they again started. 
 
 About twenty miles south of Dalton, Ga., they came 
 to a bridge, and here set fire to one of the cars, piled on 
 wood, and left it on the bridge, designing to set it on fire 
 also. At this time the engineer at the Kome branch,>sus- 
 pecting that all was not right, started up the track, found 
 the rails torn up, and immediately returned to the junc- 
 tion, and took on board a quantity of loose rails, and fol- 
 lowed after. Wher© they had torn up the rails he im- 
 mediately laid one, and without stopping to fasten it, 
 started over slowly, and gave chase. Soon he came to 
 the bridge with the burning car, which had not yet caught 
 the bridge. In the mean time they had switched off to 
 let an express pass, which train was duly informed of 
 their character by discovering the track torn up, and 
 stopped, but was soon joined by the Eome engineer, who 
 had succeeded in turning the burning car off the bridge. 
 They then both started in pursuit, laying the track as 
 they went along, which they could do in a much shorter 
 time than the expedition could tear it up. 
 
 Thus it was they overtook them at work ; and as soon 
 as they found themselves discovered, speed was their only 
 hope, and at it they went ; but unfortunately their fuel 
 was nearly out, and it was then determined to leave the 
 engine and take to the woods. Accordingly, they stop- 
 ped and reversed her, intending she should run back 
 
THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 15 
 
 Upon their pursuers ; but in this they failed, as she had 
 not sufficient steam to turn her over, and the object of 
 the adventurers thus failed from a combination of unfor- 
 tunate circijmstances. Ten minutes more would have set 
 the bridge on fire, and the Eome engineer, with the rails, 
 could not have followed them, and the down express was 
 entirely useless. It was their intention to have destroyed 
 all the bridges, run into Chattanooga, wait until the even- 
 ing train passed, and then gone on to Bridgeport, destroyed 
 the bridge over the Tennessee Eiver, and then away for 
 Hunts ville, to join General Mitchell. 
 
 Their troubles now commenced, and the greatest of all 
 their disasters was the division of their party ; 'twas now 
 every man for himself. 
 
 So soon as they had left the cars, and dispersed them- 
 selves in the woods, the population of the country around 
 turned out in their pursuit, employing for this purpose 
 the dogs which are trained to hunt down the fugitive 
 slaves of the South. The whole twenty-two were cap- 
 tured. Among them was private Jacob Parrot, of Co. 
 K, Thirty-third Eegiment Ohio Yolunteers. When ar- 
 rested, he was, without any form of trial, taken possession 
 of by a military officer and four soldiers, who stripped 
 him, bent him over a stone, and while two pistols were 
 held over his head, a lieutenant in rebel uniform inflicted 
 with a rawhide upwards of a hundred lashes on his bare 
 back. This was done in the presence of an infuriated 
 crowd, who clamored for his blood, and actually brought 
 a rope with which to hang him. The object of this pro- 
 longed scourging was to force this joung man to confess 
 to them the objects of the expedition and the names of 
 his comrades, especially that of the engineer who had run 
 the train. Their purpose was, no doubt, not only to take 
 the life of the latter if identified, but to do so with every 
 circumstance of humiliation and torture which they could 
 devise. 
 \ Three times, in the progress of this horrible flogging, 
 
16 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 
 
 it was suspended, and Mr. Parrot was asked if lie would 
 not confess ; but, steadily and firmly to the last, he re- 
 fused all disclosures, and it was not till his tormentors 
 were weary of their brutal work that the task of subduing 
 their victim was abandoned as hopeless. 
 
 The twenty-two captives, when secured, were thrust 
 into the negro-jail of Chattanooga. They occupied a 
 single room, half under ground, and but thirteen feet 
 square, so that there was not space enough for them all 
 to lie down together, and a part of them were, in conse- 
 quence, obliged to sleep sitting and leaning against the 
 walls. The only entrance was through a trap-door in the 
 ceiling, that was raised twice a day to let down their 
 scanty .meals, which were lowered in a bucket. They 
 had no other light or ventilation than that which came 
 through two small triple-grated windows. They were 
 covered with swarming vermin, and the heat was so op- 
 pressive that they were often obliged to strip themselves 
 entirely of their clothes to bear it. Add to this, they 
 were all handcuffed, and, with trace-chains secured by 
 padlocks around their necks, were fastened to each other 
 in companies of twos and threes. Their food, which was 
 doled out to them twice a day, consisted of a little ilour 
 wet with water and baked in the form of bread, and 
 spoiled pickled beef. They had no opportunity of pro- 
 curing any supplies from the outside, nor had they any 
 means of doing so — their pockets having been rifled of 
 their last cent by the Confederate authorities, prominent 
 among whom was an officer wearing the rebel uniform of 
 a major. No part of the money thus basely taken was 
 ever returned. 
 
 During this imprisonment at Chattanooga their leader, 
 Mr. Andrews, was tried and- condemned as a spy, and 
 was subsequently executed at Atlanta, the seventh of 
 June. They were strong and in perfect health when they 
 entered this negro-jail, but at the end of something more 
 than three weeks, when they were required to leave it, 
 
THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. IT 
 
 they were so exhaiiisted from the treatment to wliicli they 
 had been subjected, as scarcely to be able to walk, and 
 several staggered from weakness as they passed through 
 the street to the cars. " 
 
 Finally, twelve of the number were transferred to the 
 prison of Knoxville, Tenn. . On arriving there, seven of 
 them were arraigned before a court-martial, charged with . 
 being spies. Their trial of course was summary. They 
 were permitted to be present, but not to hear either the 
 argument of their own counsel or that of the judge-ad vo- 
 cate. , 
 
 Soon thereafter all the prisoners were removed to At- 
 lanta, and they left Knoxville under a belief that their 
 comrades, who had been tried, either had been or would 
 be acquitted. 
 
 On the eighteenth of June, after their arrival at Atlan- 
 ta, where they rejoined the comrades from whom they 
 had been separated at Chattanooga, their prison-door was 
 opened, and the death-sentences of the seven who had 
 been tried at Knoxville were read to them. Ko time for 
 preparation was allowed them. They were told to bid 
 their friends farewell, " and to be quick about it." They 
 were at once tied and carried out to execution. Among 
 the seven was private Samuel Eobinson, Co. G, Thirty- 
 third Ohio Volunteers, who was too ill to walk. He was, 
 however, pinioned like the rest, and in this condition was 
 dragged from the floor on which he was lying to the 
 scafibld. In an ho»r or more the cavalry escort, which » 
 had accompanied them, was seen returning with the cart, 
 but the cart was empty — the tragedy had been consum- 
 mated ! 
 
 On that evening and the following morning the pri- 
 soners learned from the provost marshal and guard that 
 their comrades had died, as all true soldiers of the Ee- 
 public should die, in the presence of its enemies. Among 
 the revojiing incidents which they mentioned in connec- 
 tion with this cowardly butchery, was the flill of two of 
 2 
 
18 > TlfE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. 
 
 the victims from the breaking of the ropes after they had 
 been for some time suspended. On their being re- 
 stored to consciousness, they begged for an hour in 
 which to pray and to prepare for death, bat this was- re- 
 fused them. The ropes were readjusted, and the execution 
 at once proceeded. ^ 
 
 Among those who thus perished was private Alfred 
 Wilson, Co. C, Twenty- first Ohio Yolunteers. He was a 
 mechanic from Cincinnati, who, in the exercise of his 
 trade, had travelled much through the States, north and 
 south. Though surrounded by a scowling crowd, tmpa- 
 tient for his sacrifice, he did not hesitate while standing 
 under the gallows to make them a brief address. He 
 told them that though they were all wrong, he had no 
 hostile feelings towards the Southern people, believing 
 that not they but their leaders were responsible for the 
 rebellion ; that he was no spy, as charged, but a soldier 
 regularly detailed for military duty ; that he did not re- 
 gret to, die for his country, but only regretted the manner 
 of his death ; and he added, for their admonition, that 
 they would yet see the time when the old Union would 
 be restored, and when its flag would wave over them 
 again. And with these words the brave man died. He, 
 like his comrades, calmly met the ignominious doom of 
 a felon — but, happily, ignominious for him and for them 
 only so far as the martyrdom of the patriot and the hero 
 can be degraded by the hands of ruffians and traitors. 
 ' The remaining prisoners, now reduced to fourteen, 
 were kept closely confined under special guard, in the 
 jair at Atlanta, until October, when, overhearing a con- 
 versation between the jailer and another officer, they be- 
 came satisfied that it was the purpose of the authorities • 
 to hang them, as they had done their companions. This 
 led them to form a plan for their escape, which they car- 
 ried into execution on the evening of the next day, by 
 seizing the jailer when he opened the door to ca^y away 
 the bucket in which their supper had been brought 
 
A i»ROPHETIC PRESENTIMENT. 19 
 
 This was followed by the seizure also of the seven guards 
 on duty, and before the alarm was given eight of the fugi- 
 tives were beyond the reach of pursuit. Six of these, 
 after long and painful wanderings, succeeded in reaching 
 the Union Lines. Of the fate of the other two nothing is ■ 
 known. 
 
 The remaining six of the fourteen were recaptured and 
 confined in the barracks, until December, when they were 
 removed to Eichmond. There they were shut up in a 
 room in Castle Thunder, where they shivered through 
 the T^inter, without fire, thinly clad, and with but two 
 small blankets, which they had saved with their clothes, 
 to cover the whole party. So they remained until they 
 were exchanged, at the end of eleven months. 
 
 A PEOPHETIO PEESENTIMENT. 
 
 While Col. Osterhaus was gallantly attacking the centre 
 of the enemy on the second day of the battle of Pea Eidge, 
 Ark., a sergeant of the Twelfth Missouri requested the 
 captain of his company to send his wife's portrait, which 
 he had taken from his bosom, to her address in St. Louis, 
 with his dying declaration that he thought of her in his 
 last moment. 
 
 '^ What is that for ?" asked the captain. " You are not 
 wounded, are you ?" 
 
 " No," answered the sergeant ; " but I know I shall be 
 killed to-day. I have been in battle before, but I never 
 felt as I do now. A moment ago I became convinced 
 my time had come, but how, I cannot tell. Will you 
 gratify my request ? Eemember, I speak to you as a 
 dying man." 
 
 " Certainly, my brave fellow ; but you will live to a 
 good old age with j^our wife. Do not grow melancholy 
 over a fafecy or a dream." 
 
 *' You will seC;" was the response. 
 
20 ADVENTURE OF A SPY. 
 
 The picture clianged hands. The sergeant stepped for- 
 ward to the front of the column, and the captain per- 
 ceived him no more. 
 
 At the camp-fire that evening the officer inquired for 
 the sergeant. He was not present. He had been killed 
 three hours before by a grape-shot from one of the enemy's 
 batteries. 
 
 ADVENTUEE OP A SPY. 
 
 It was a dark night. Not a star on the glimmer. 
 The spy had collected his quotum of intelligence, and 
 was on the move for the Northern lines. He was ap- 
 proaching the banks of a stream whose waters had to be 
 crossed, and had then some miles to traverse before he 
 could reach the pickets of the Union troops. A feeling 
 of uneasiness began to creep over him ; he was on the 
 outskirt of a wood fringing the dark waters at his feet, 
 whose presence could scarcely be detected but for their 
 siillen murmurs as they rushed through the gloom. The 
 wind siglied in gentle accordance. He walked forty or 
 fifty yards along the bank. He then crept on all-fours 
 along the ground and groped with his hands. He 
 paused — he groped again — his breath thickened, perspi- 
 ration oozed from every pore, and he was .prostrated with 
 horror! He had missed his landmark, and knew. not 
 where he was. Below or above, beneath the shelter of 
 the bank, lay the skifi* he had hidden ten days before 
 when he commenced his operations among the followers 
 of Jeff. Davis. 
 
 As he stood gasping for breath, with all the unmis- 
 takable proofs of his calling about him, the sudden cry 
 of a bird or plunging of a fish would act like magnetism 
 on his frame, not ,wont to shudder at a shadow. No 
 matter how pressing the danger may be, if a man sees an 
 opportunity for escape, he breathes with freedom. But 
 
ADVENTURE OP A SPY. 21 
 
 let him be surrounded by darkness, impenetrable at two 
 yards' distance, within rifle's length of concealed foes, for 
 what knowledge he has to the contrary ; knowing, too, 
 with painful accuracy, the detection of his presence would 
 ■ reward him with a sudden and violent death, and if he 
 breathes no faster, and feels his limbs as free and his spi- 
 rits as light as when taking a favorite promenade, he is 
 more fitted for a hero than most. 
 
 In the agony of that moment — in the sudden and utter 
 helplessness he felt to discover his true bearings — he. was 
 about to let himself gently into the stream, and breast 
 its current, for life and death. There was no alternative. 
 The Northern pickets must be reached in safety before 
 the morning broke, or he would soon swing between 
 heaven and earth, from some green limb of the black 
 forest in which he stood. 
 
 At that moment the low, sullen bay of a bloodhound 
 struck his ear. The sound was reviving — the fearful 
 stillness broken. The uncertain dread flew before the 
 certain danger. He was standing to his middle in the 
 shallow bed of the river, just beneath the jutting banks. 
 After a pause of a few seconds he began to creep mecha- 
 nically and stealthily down the stream, followed, as he 
 knew from the rustling of the grass and frequent break- 
 ing of twigs, by the insatiable brute ; although by certain 
 uneasy growls he felt assured the beast was at fault. 
 Something struck against the spy's breast. He could not 
 prevent a slight cry from escaping him, as, stretching out 
 his hand, he grasped the gunwale of a boat moored be- 
 neath the bank. Between surprise and joy he felt half 
 choked. In an instant he had scrambled on board and 
 began to Search for the painter in the bow, in order to 
 cast her from her fastenings. 
 
 Suddenly a bright ray of moonlight — the first gleam 
 of hope in that black night — fell directly on the spot, 
 revealing the silvery stream, his own skiff (hidden there 
 ten days before), lighting the deep shadows of the verging 
 
22 THE NEGRO TILLMAN'S NARRATIVE. 
 
 wood, and on the log half buried in the bank, and from 
 which he had that instant cast the line that had bound 
 him to it, the supple form of the crouching bloodhound, 
 his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight, jaws distended, 
 and poising for the spring. With one dart the light skiff 
 was yards out in the stream, and the savage after it. 
 "With an oar the spy aimed a blow at his head, which, 
 however, he eluded with ease. In the effort thus made, 
 the boat careened over towards his antagonist, who 
 made a desperate effort to get his forepaws over the side, 
 at the same time seizing the gunwale with his teeth. 
 
 Now or never was the time to get rid of the accursed 
 brute. The spy drew his revolver, and placed the muzzle 
 between the beast's eyes, but hesitated to fire ; for that 
 one report might bring on him a volley from the 
 shore. Meantime the strength of the dog careened the 
 frail craft so much that the water rushed over the side, 
 threatening to swamp her. He changed his tactics, threw 
 his revolver into the bottom of the skiff* and grasping 
 his " bowi6," keen as a Malay creese, and glittering as he 
 released it from the sheath, like a moonbeam ^on the 
 stream. In an instant he had severed the sinewy throat 
 of the hound, cutting through the brawn and muscle to 
 the nape of the neck. The tenacious wretch gave a wild, 
 convulsive leap half out of the water, then sank, and was 
 gone. 
 
 Five minutes' pulling landed the spy on the other 
 side of the river, and in an hour after, without further 
 accident, he was among friends, encompassed by the 
 Northern lines. 
 
 THE NEQEO TILLMAN'S NAKEATIVE. 
 
 The schooner S. J. "Waring had started on a voyage to 
 Buenos Ayres, in Montevideo, with an assorted cargo, 
 which, with the vessel, was valued at a hundred thousand 
 
THE NEGRO TILLMAN'S NARRATIVE. 23 
 
 dollars. There were on board tlie captain and mate; 
 William Tillman, steward, a native of Delaware, 27 years 
 old, who has followed the sea for ten years ; Wm. Sted- 
 ding, seaman; Donald McLeod, seaman, of Cape Breton, 
 ISTova Scotia, 30 years of age ; ^nd Bryce Mackinnon, a 
 passenger. 
 
 On the 7th of July, 1861, they fell in with the Jeff'. 
 Davis, and a prize crew of five were put aboard who 
 were unarmed. To use the language of Tillman, " They 
 run ten days and didn't find Charleston. They were, 
 however, only fifty miles south of Charleston, and one 
 hundred to the eastward. On the voyage they treated 
 me the best kind of way and talked the best kind of 
 talk." 
 
 One day the first lieutenant of the pirates was sitting 
 in the cabin, crossdegged, smoking, and he said to me — 
 
 " When you go down to Savannah, I want you to go to 
 my house, and I will take care of you." 
 
 I thought, continued the negro, "Yes, you will take 
 care of me 'when you get me there." I raised my hat, 
 and said — 
 
 " Yes, sir, thank you." 
 
 But afterwards I said to Billy (the Grerman), " I am 
 not going to Charleston a live man ; they may take me 
 there dead." 
 
 He had been told by the prize-master that he would 
 get rewarded in Charleston for performing his duty so 
 well in bringing the schooner in. He also heard con- 
 versation, not intended for his ears, in regard to the price 
 he would probably bring ; and he had heard the prize- 
 master say to one of his men — 
 
 " You talk to that steward and keep him in good heart. 
 
 By " said the prize-master, '* he will never see the 
 
 North again." 
 
 Tillman conferred with two of the seamen about taking 
 possession of the schooner ; but they declined adopting 
 any plan, saying that none of them knew how to navigate 
 
24 THE NEGRO TILLMAN 'S NARRATIVE. 
 
 her back should they succeed in getting control. Till- 
 man thought the matter over for three days, and then 
 made an appeal to the German, and said, " If you are a 
 man to stick to your word, we can take this vessel easy." 
 
 Then we made a plan that I was to go to my berth, 
 and when most of the men were asleep he was to give 
 me some sign, or awake me. We tried this for two 
 nights, but no good chance offered. But last Tuesday 
 night we caught them asleep, and we went to work. 
 
 The mate comes to my berth and he touches me. He 
 says, " ISTow is your time." 
 
 I went into my room and got my hatchet. The first 
 man I struck was the captain. He was lying in a state- 
 room on the starboard side. I aimed for his temple as 
 near as I could, ar^d hit him just below the ear with the 
 edge of the hatchet. With that he made a very loud 
 shriek. 
 
 The passenger jumped up very much in a fright. I 
 told him to be still ; I shall not hurt a hair of your head. 
 The passenger knew what I was up. to ; he never said a 
 word more. I walks across the cabin to the second 
 mate's room, and I gave him one severe blow in the 
 mole of the head — that is, right across the middle of 
 his head. I didn't stop to see whether he was dead or 
 no ; but I jumped on deck, and as I did so, the mate, 
 who had been sleeping on the companion-way, started 
 from the noise he had heard in the cabin. 
 
 Just as he arose upon his feet, I struck him on the 
 back of the head. Then the German chap jumped over, 
 and we "mittened" on to him, and flung him over the 
 starboard quarter. 
 
 Then we went down stairs into the cabin. The second 
 mate was not quite dead. He was sitting leaning against 
 his berth. I " catched" him by the hair of the head with 
 my left hand, and struck him with the hatchet I had in 
 my right hand. I told this young German, " Well, let's 
 
THE NEGRO TILLMAN'S NARRATIVE. 25 
 
 get "him overboard as soon as we can." So we hauled 
 him over on to the cabin. 
 
 He was not quite dead, but he would not have lived 
 long. We flung him over the starboard quarter.. Then 
 I told this German to go and call that man Jim, the 
 southern chap (one of the pirates), here. He called him 
 aft. 
 
 . Says I, " Jim, come down here in the cabin. Do you 
 know that I have taken charge of this vessel to-night ? 
 I am going to put you in irons." 
 
 " Well," says he, " I am willing." 
 
 He gave right up. I kept him in irons till 8 o'clock 
 the next morning. I then sent the German for him, and 
 I said — 
 
 " Smith (the name Milnor went by oji board), I want 
 you to join us and help take this vessel back. But mind, 
 the least crook or the least turn, and overboard you go 
 'with the rest." 
 
 "Well," said he, "I will do the best I can." And he 
 worked well all the way back. He couldn't do other- 
 wise. It was pump or sink. 
 
 They didn't have any chance to beg. It was ail done 
 in five minutes. In seven minutes and a half after I 
 struck the first blow the vessel was squared away before 
 the wind and all sail set. We were fifty miles south of 
 Charleston, and one hundred to the eastward. 
 
 Tillman said that at first he had thought of securing all 
 the men, and bringing them all to New York alive, in 
 irons ; but he found this was impracticable. To use his 
 own language, "There were too many for that — there 
 were five of them, and only three of us." 
 
 After this, I said, well, 1 will get all back I can alive, 
 and the rest I will kill. Tillman says he went away as 
 a steward, but came back as a captain. 
 
526 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 
 
 ZAGONYI'S PAMOUS GHARGE. 
 
 Among tlie foreign officers whom the fame of Gene- 
 ral Fremont drew around him, was Charles Zagonyi, 
 a Hungarian refugee, but long a resident of this country. 
 In his boyhood, Zagonyi had plunged into the passionate, 
 but unavailing struggle which Hungary made for her 
 liberty. He at once attracted the attention of General 
 Bem, and was by him placed in command of a picked 
 company of cavalry. In one of the desperate engagements 
 of the war, Zagonyi led a charge upon a large artillery 
 force. More than half of his men were slain. He was 
 wounded and taken prisoner. Two years passed before 
 he could exchange an Austrian dungeon for American 
 exile. 
 
 General Fremont welcomed Zagonyi cordially, and 
 authorized him to recruit a company of horse to act as 
 his body-guard. Zagonyi was most scrupulous in his 
 selection ; but so ardent was the desire to serve under the 
 eye, and near the person of the General, that in five days 
 after the lists were opened two full companies were en-, 
 listed. Soon after a whole company, composed of the 
 very flower of the youth of Kentucky, tendered its ser- 
 vices, and requested to be added to the Guard. Zagonyi 
 was still overwhelme4 with applications, and he obtained 
 permission to recruit a fourth company. ' • 
 
 The fourth company, however, did not go with us into 
 the field. The men were clad in blue jackets, trousers, 
 and caps. They were armed with light German sabres, 
 the best that at that time could be procured, and revol- 
 vers ; besides which, the first company carried carbines. 
 They were mounted upon bay horses, carefully selected 
 from the governmetit stables. Zagonyi had but little 
 time to instruct his recruits, but in less than a month 
 from the commencement of the enlistments, the Body- 
 Guard was a well disciplined and most,efficient corps of 
 
ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 2*7 
 
 cavalry. The officers were all American except three — 
 one Hollander, and two Hungarians, Zagonyi and Lieu- 
 tenant Mathenyi, who came to the United States during 
 his boyhood. 
 
 Zagonyi left our camp at eight o'clock on the evening 
 of October 24th, 1861, with about a hundred and sixty 
 men, the remainder of the Guard being left at head-qaar- 
 ters under the command of a non-commissioned officer. 
 
 Major White was already on his way to Springfield 
 with his squadron. This young officer, hardly tv/enty- 
 one years old, had won great reputation for energy and 
 zeal while a captain of infantry in a New> York regiment 
 stationed at Fort Monroe. He there saw much hazardous 
 scouting service, and had been in a number of engage- 
 ments. In the West he held a position upon General 
 Fremont's staff, with the rank of Major. While at Jef- 
 ferson City, by permission of the General, he had organized 
 a battalion to act as scouts and rangers, composed of two 
 companies of the Third Illinois Cavalry, under Captains 
 Fairbanks and Kehoe, and a company of Irish dragoons, 
 Captain Naughton, Avhich had been recruited for Mulli- 
 gan's brigade, but had not joined Mulligan in time to be 
 at Lexington. 
 
 Major White went to Georgetown, in advance of the 
 whole army, from there marched sixty-five miles in one 
 night to Lexington, surprised the garrison, liberated a 
 {number of Federal officers, who were there wounded and 
 '.prisoners, and captured the steamers which Price had 
 (taken from Mulligan. From Lexington White ca&e by 
 way of Warrensburg 'to Warsaw. During this long and 
 [hazardous expedition the Prairie Scouts had been with- 
 ut tents, and depended for food upon the supplies they 
 sould take from the enemy. 
 
 Major White did not remain at Warsaw to recruit his 
 lealth, seriously impaired by hardship and exposure. 
 3e asked for further service, and was directed to report 
 
28 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 
 
 himself to General Siegel, bj whom he was ordered to 
 make a reconnoissance in the direction of Springfield. 
 
 After a rapid night-march, Zagonyi overtook White, 
 and assumed command of the whole force. White was 
 quite ill, and, unable to stay in his saddle, was obliged to 
 follow in a carriage. In the morning, yielding to the re- 
 quest of Zagonyi, he remained at a farm-house where the 
 troop had halted for refreshment, it being arranged that 
 he should rest an hour or two, come on in his carriage 
 with a small escort, and overtake Zagonyi before he 
 reached Springfield. The Prairie Scouts numbered one 
 hundred and thirty, so that the troop was nearly three 
 hundred strong. 
 
 The day was fine, the road good, and the little column 
 pushed on merrily, hoping tc^ surprise the enemy. When 
 within two hours' march of the town, they met a Union 
 farmer of the neighborhood, who told Zagonyi that a 
 large body of rebels arrived at Springfield the day be- 
 fore, on their way to reinforce Price, and that the enemy 
 were now two thousand strong. 
 
 Zagonyi would have been justified if he had turned 
 back. But the Guard had been made the subject of much 
 malicious remark, and had brought ridicule upon the 
 General. Should they retire now, a storm of abuse would 
 burst upon them. Zagonyi, therefore, took no counsel of 
 prudence. He could not hope tQ defeat and capture the 
 foe, but he might surprise them, dash into their' camp, 
 destroy their train, and, as he expressed it, " disturb their 
 sleep,* obtaining a victory which,^ for its moral eftects, 
 would be worth the sacrifice it cost. His daring resolve 
 found unanimous and ardent assent with his zealous fob' 
 lowers. 
 
 The Union farmer offered to guide Zagonyi by a cir- 
 cuitous route to the rear of the rebel position, and under 
 his guidance he left the main road about five miles from 
 Springfield. 
 
 After an hour of repose, White set out in pursuit of his 
 
ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 29 
 
 men, driving. Ms horses at a gallop. He knew notliing 
 of tlie change in Zagonyi's plans, and supposed the attack 
 was to be made upon the front of the town. He therefore 
 continued upon the main road, expecting every minute 
 to overtake the column. As he drew near the village, 
 and heard and saw nothing of Zagonyi, he supposed the 
 enemy had left the place and the Federals had taken it 
 without opposition. The approach to Springfield from 
 the north is through a forest, and the village cannot be 
 seen until the outskirts are reached. A sudden turn in 
 the road brought White into the very midst of a strong 
 rebel guard. They surrounded him, seized his horses, 
 and in an instant he and his companion were prisoners. 
 
 When they learned his rank, they danced around him 
 like a pack of savages, shouting and holding their cocked 
 pieces at his heart. The leader of the party had, a few 
 days before, lost a brother in a skirmish with Wyman's 
 force, and with loud oaths he §wore that the Federal Major 
 should die in expiation of his brothei's death. He was 
 about to carry his inhuman threat into execution," Major 
 White boldly facing him and saying, " If my men were 
 here, I'd give you all the revenge you want." 
 
 At this moment a young of&cer, Captain Wroton by 
 name — of whom more hereafter — pressed through the 
 throng, and placing himself in front of White, declared 
 that he would protect^ the prisoner with his own life. The 
 firm bearing of Wroton saved the Major's life, but his cap- 
 tors robbed him and hurried him to their camp, where he 
 remained during the fight, exposed to the hottest of the 
 fire, an excited, but helpless spectator of the stirring events 
 which followed. He promised his generous protector 
 that he would not attempt to escape, unless his men should 
 try to resctie him; but Captain Wroton remained by his 
 side, guarding him. 
 
 Making a detour of twelve miles, Zagonyi approached 
 the position of the enemy. They were encamped half a 
 mile west of Springfield, upon a hill which sloped to the 
 
30 ^^i^Igonyi's famous charge. 
 
 east. Along the nortliern side of their camp was a broad 
 and well travelled road ; along the southern side, a nar- 
 row lane ran down to a brook at the foot of the hill ; the 
 space between, about three hundred yards broad, was the 
 field of battle. Along the west side of the field, separat- 
 ing it from the county fair ground, was another lane, 
 connecting the main road and the first mentioned lane. 
 The side of the hill was clear, but its summit, which was 
 broad and flat, was covered Avith a rank growth of small 
 timber, so dense as to be impervious to horse. 
 
 The foe were advised of the intended attack. When 
 Major White was brought into their camp, they were 
 preparing to defend their position. As appears from the 
 confessions of prisoners, they had twenty-two hundred 
 men, of whom four hundred were cavalry, the rest being 
 infantry, armed with shot-guns, American sifles, and re- 
 volvers. 
 
 Twelve hundred of their foot were posted along the 
 edge of the wood upon the crest of the hill. The cavalry 
 was stationed upon the extreme left, on top of a spur of 
 the hill and in front of a patch of timber. Sharpshooters 
 were concealed behind the trees close to the fence along- 
 side the lane, and a small number in some underbrush near 
 /the foot of the hill. Another detachment guarded their 
 train, holding possession of the county fair ground, which 
 was surrounded by a high board fence. 
 
 This position was unassailable by cavalry from the road, 
 the only point of attack being down the lanS on the right ; 
 and the enemy were so disposed as to command*this ap- 
 proach perfectly. The lane was a blind one, being closed, 
 after passing the brook, by fences and ploughed land ; it 
 was in fact a cul de sac. If the infantry should stand, 
 nothing could save the rash assailants. There* are horse- 
 men sufficient to sweep the little band before them, as 
 helplessly as the withered forest leaves in the grasp of 
 the autumn wind^s; there are deadly marksmen lying 
 behind the trees upon the heights, and lurking in the long 
 
EAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE, 31 
 
 grass upon the lowlands ; while a long line of foot stand 
 upon the summit of the slope, who, only stepping a few 
 paces back into the forest, may defy the boldest riders. 
 Yet down this narrow lane, leading into the very jaws of 
 death, came the three hundred. 
 
 On the prairie, at the edge of the woodland in which 
 he knew his wily foe lay hidden, Zagonyi halted his 
 command. He spurred along the line. With eager glance 
 he scanned each horse and rider. 
 
 To his of&cers he gave the simple order, " Follow me ! 
 do as I do !" and then, drawing up in front of his men, 
 wdth a voice tremulous and shrill with emotion, he spoke : 
 
 "Fellow soldiers, comrades, brothers! This is your 
 first battle. For our three hundred, the enemy have two 
 thousand. If any of you are sick, or tired by the long 
 march, or if any think the number is too great, now is 
 the time to turn back." 
 
 He paused ; no one was sick or tired. 
 
 " We must not retreat. Our honor, the honor of our 
 General and our country, tell us to go on. I will lead 
 you. We have been called holiday soldiers for the pave- 
 ments of St. Louis ; to-day we will show that we are sol- 
 diers for the battle. Your watchword shall be, ' The Union 
 and Fremont P Draw sabre I By the right flank — 
 quick trot— march !" 
 
 Bright swords flashed in the sunshine, a passionate 
 shout burst from every lip, and with one accord, the trot 
 passing into a gallop, the coiiipact column swept on its 
 deadly purpose. 
 
 Most 5f them were boys. A few weeks before they 
 had left their homes. Those who were cool enough to 
 note it say that ruddy cheeks grew pale, and fiery eyes 
 were dimmed with tears. Who shall tell what thoughts 
 — what visions of peaceful cottages nestling among the 
 groves of Kentucky, or shining upon the -banks of the 
 Ohio and Illinois — what sad recollections of tearful fare- 
 
32 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 
 
 wells, of tender, loving faces, filled tlieir minds during 
 those fearful moments of suspense ? 
 
 No word was spoken. With lips compressed, firmly 
 clenching their sword-hilts, with quick tramp of hoofs 
 and clang of steel, honor leading and glory awaiting jihem, 
 the young soldiers flew forward, each brave rider and 
 each straining steed members of one huge creature, enor- 
 mous, terrible, irresistible. 
 
 *' 'Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
 One glance at their array." 
 
 They pass the fair ground. They are at the corner of 
 the lane Ayhere the wood begins. It runs close to the 
 fence on their left for a hundred yards, and beyond it 
 they see white tents gleaming. They are half-way past 
 the forest, when, sharp and loud, a volley of musketry 
 bursts upon the head of the column; horses stagger, 
 liders reel and fall, but the troop presses forward undis- 
 mayed. - The farther corner of the wood is reached, and 
 Zagonyi beholds the terrible array. Amazed, he in- 
 voluntarily checks his horse. The rebels are not sur- 
 prised. 
 
 There to his left they stand crowning the height, foot 
 and horse ready to engulf him, if he shall be rash enough 
 to gD on. The road he is following declines rapidly. 
 There is but one thing to do — run the gauntlet, gain the 
 cover of the hill, and charge up the steep. These 
 thoughts pass quicker than they can be told. He waves 
 his sabre over his head, and shouting, " Forward ! follow 
 me ! quick trot [ gallop !" he dashes headlong down the 
 stony road. The first company and most of the second 
 follow. 
 
 From the left a thousand muzzles belch forth a hissing 
 flood of bullets ; the poor fellows clutch wildly in the air, 
 and fall from their saddles, and maddened horses throw 
 themselves against the fences. Their speed is not for an 
 instant checked; farther down the hill they fly, like 
 
ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHAKGE. 33 
 
 wasps driven by the leaden storm. Sharp volleys pour 
 out from the underbrusIT at the left, clearing wide gaps 
 through their ranks. They leap the brook, take d'own the 
 fence, and draw up under the shelter of the hill. Zagouyi 
 looks around him, and to his horror sees that only a fourth 
 of his men are with him. He cries, " They do not come 
 — we are lost 1" and frantically waves his sabre. 
 
 He had not long to wait. The delay of the rest of the 
 Guard was not from hesitation. When Captain Foley 
 reached the lower corner of the wood and saw the enemy's 
 line, he thought a flank attack might be. advantageously 
 made. He ordered some of his men to dismount and take 
 down the fence. This was done under a severe fire. 
 Several men fell, and he found the wood so dense that it 
 could not be penetrated. 
 
 Looking down the hill, he saw the flash of Zagonyi's 
 sabre, and at once gave the order *' Forward !" At the 
 same time Lieutenant Kennedy, a stalwart Kentuckian, 
 shouted " Come on, boys ! remember Old Kentucky 1" 
 and the third company of the Guard — fire on every side 
 of them, from behind trees, from under the fences — with 
 thundering stride and long cheers, poured down the slope 
 and rushed to the side of Zagonyi. They have seventy 
 dead and wounded men, and the carcasses of horses are 
 strewn along the lane. Kennedy is wounded in the arm 
 and lies upon the stones, his faithful charger standing 
 motionless beside him. Lieutenant Gofi* received a 
 wound in the thigh; he kept his seat, and cried out, 
 "The devils have hit me, but I w^ili give it to them yet I" 
 
 The remnaut of the Guard are now in the field under 
 the hill, and from the shape of the ground the rebel fire 
 sweeps with the roar of a whirlwind over their heads. 
 Here we will leave them for a moment; and trace the for- 
 tunes of the Prairie Scouts. 
 
 When Foley brought his troop to a halt, Captain Fair- 
 banks, at the head of the first company of Scouts, was 
 at the point where thejirst volley of musketry had been 
 3 
 
34 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 
 
 received. Tlie narrow lane was crowded by a dense 
 mass of struggling horses,, and filled with the tumult of 
 battle. Captain Fairbanks sajs, and he is corroborated 
 bj several of his men who were neai* that at this moment 
 an officer of the Guard rode up to him and said, " They 
 are flying, take your men down that lane and cut off their 
 retreat" — pointing to the lane at the left. Captain Fair- 
 banks was not able to identify the person who gave this 
 order. It certainly did not come from Zagonyi, who was 
 several hundred yards farther on. Captain Fairbanks 
 executed the order, followed by the second company of 
 Prairie Scouts, under Captain Kehoe. When this move- 
 ment was made. Captain Naughton, with the Third Irish 
 Dragoons, had not reached the corner of the lane. 
 
 He came up at a gallop, and was about to follow Fair- 
 banks, when he -saw a Guardsman who pointed in the di- 
 rection in which Zagonyi had gone. He took this for an 
 order, and obeyed it. When he reached the gap in the 
 fence, made by Fole3^,'not seeing anything of the Guard, 
 he supposed they had passed through at that place, and 
 gallantly attempted to follow. Thirteen men fell in a few 
 minutes. He was shot in the arm, and dismounted. 
 Lieutenant Connolly spurred into the underbrush, and 
 received two balls through the lungs and one in the left 
 shoulder. The Dragoons, at the outset more than fifty 
 strong, were broken and dispirited by the loss of their 
 officers, and retired. A sergeant rallied a few, and brought 
 them up to the gap, a.gain, and they were again driven back. 
 
 Five of the boldest passed down the hill, joined Zago- 
 nyi, and were conspicuous by their valor during the rest 
 of the day. Fairbanks and Kehoe, having gained the 
 rear and left of the enemy's position, made two or three 
 assaults upon detached parties of the foe, but did not join 
 in the main attack. 
 
 I now return to the Guard. It is forming under the 
 shelter of the hill. In front, with gentle inclination, rises 
 ^ grassy slope, broken by occasional tree stumps. A line 
 
ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 35 
 
 of fire npon the summit marks the position of the Eebel 
 infantry, and nearer, and on the top of a lower eminence 
 to the right, st^nd their horse. Up to this time no Guards- 
 man had struck a blow, but blue coats and bay horses lie 
 thick along the bloody lane. Their time has come. Lieu- 
 tenant Mathenyi, with thirty men, is ordered to attack 
 the cavalry. 
 
 With sabres flashing over their heads, the little band 
 of heroes spring towards their tremendous foe. Right 
 upon the centre they charge. The dense mass opens, the 
 blue coats force their way in, and the whole rebel squad- 
 ron scatters in disgraceful flight through the cornfields 
 in the rear. The hays follow them, sabring the fugitives. 
 Days after, the enemy's horses lay thick among the uncut 
 corn. 
 
 Zagonyi holds his main body until Mathenyi disap- 
 pears in the cloud of rebel cavalry ; then his voice rises 
 through the air : 
 
 ^^In open order — charge!" 
 
 The line opens out to give play to their sword-arm. 
 Steeds respond to the ardor of their riders, and quick as 
 thought, with thrilling cheers, the noble hearts rush into 
 the leaden torrent which pours down the incline. With 
 unabated fire the gallant fellows press through. Their 
 fierce onset is not even checked. The foe do not wait 
 for them — they waver, break, and fly. The Guardsmen 
 spur into the midst of the rout, and their fast-falling swords 
 work a terrible revensre. Some of the boldest of the 
 Southrons retreat into the woods, and continue a mur- 
 derous fire from behind trees and thickets. 
 
 Seven Guard horses fall upon a space not more than 
 twenty feet square. As his steed sinks under him, one 
 of the (rf&cers is caught around the shoulders by a grape- 
 vine, and hangs dangling in the air until he is cut doAvn 
 by his friends. 
 
 The rebel foot are flying in furious haste from the 
 field. Some take refuge in the fair ground, some hurry 
 
36 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 
 
 into the cornfield, but the greater part run along the edge 
 of the wood, swarrn . over the fence into the road, and 
 hasten to the village. The Guardsmen follow. Zagon3ri 
 leads them. Over the loudest roar of battle rings his 
 clarion voice. 
 
 " Come on, Old Kentuck ! I'm with you ! " 
 
 And the flash of his sword-blade tells his men where 
 to go. As he approaches a barn, a man steps from behind 
 the door and lowers his rifle ; but, before it has reached 
 the level, Zagonji's sabre-point descends upon his head, 
 and his life blood leaps to the very top of the huge barn- 
 door. 
 
 The conflict now rashes throuo^h the villasce — in the 
 public square and along the streets. Up and down the 
 Guards ride in squads of three or four, and wherever 
 they see a group of the enemy charge upon and scatter 
 them. It is hand to hand. No one but has a share in 
 the fray. 
 
 There was at least one soldier in the Southern ranks. 
 A young officer, superbly mounted, charges alone upon 
 a large body of the Guard. He passes through the line 
 unscathed, Idlling one man. He wheels, charges back, 
 and again breaks through, killing another man. 
 
 A third time he rushes upon the Federal line, a score 
 of sabre-points confront him, a cloud of bullets fly around 
 him, but he presses on until he reaches Zagonyi — he 
 presses his pistol so close to the Major's side 'that he 
 feels it, and draws convulsively back ; the bullet passes 
 throiigh the front of Zagonyi's coat, who at the instant 
 runs the daring rebel through the body ; he falls, and the 
 men, thinking their* commander hurt, kill him with half 
 a dozen wounds. 
 
 " He was a brave man," said Zagonyi after wa*4S; " and 
 I did wish to make him prisoner." 
 
 Meanwhile it has grown dark. The foe have left the 
 village, and the battle has ceased. The assembly is 
 sounded, and the Guard gathers in the Plaza. Not more 
 
ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 31 
 
 than eighty mounted ' men appear; tlie rest are killed, 
 wounded, or unhorsed. At this time one of the most 
 characteristic incidents of the affair took place. 
 
 Just before the charge, Zagonyi directed one of his 
 buglers, a Frenchman, to sound a signal. The bugler 
 did not seem to pay any attention to the order, but darted 
 off with Lieutenant Mathenyi. A few moments after- 
 wards he was observed in another part of the field vigor- 
 ously pursuing the flying infantry. His active form was 
 always seen in the thickest of the fight. 
 
 When the line was formed in the Plaza, Zagonyi no- 
 ticed the bugler, and approaching him said, " In the midst 
 of the battle you disobeyed my order. You are unwor- 
 thy to be a member of the Guard. I dismiss you." 
 
 The bugler showed his bugle to his indignant com- 
 mander — the mouthpiece of the instrument was shot 
 away. He said, " The mouth was shot off. I could not 
 bugle viz mon bugle, and so I bugle viz mon pistol and 
 sabre. It is unnecessary to add *the brave Frenchman 
 was not dismissed. 
 
 I must not forget to mention Sergeant Hunter, of the 
 Kentucky company. His soldierly figure never failed 
 to attract the eye in the ranks of the Guard. He had 
 served in the regular cavalry, and the Body Guard had 
 profited greatly from his skill as a drill-master. He lost 
 three l\orses in the fight. As soon as one was killed, he 
 caught another from the rebels. The third horse taken 
 by him in this way he rode, into St. Louis. 
 
 The sergeant slew five men. '^I won't speak of those 
 I shot," said he — " another may have hit them ; but those 
 I touched with my sabre I am sure of, because I felt 
 them." 
 
 At the beginning of the charge he came to the extreme 
 right, and took position next to Zagonyi, whom he fol- 
 lowed closely throtigh the battle. The Major seeing him, 
 said : — 
 
38 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 
 
 " Why are you liere. Sergeant Hunter ? Your place is 
 witli your company on the left." 
 
 " I kind o' wanted to be in front," was the answer. 
 
 " What could I say to such a man ?" exclaimed Zago- 
 nyi, speaking of the matter afterwards. 
 
 There was hardly a horse or rider among the survivors 
 that did not bring away some mark of the fray. I saw 
 one animal with no less than seven wounds — none of them 
 serious. Scabbards were bent, clothes and caps pierced, 
 pistols injured. I saw one pistol from which the sight 
 had been cut as neatly as it could have been done by 
 machinery. A piece of board a few inches long was cut 
 from a fence on the field, in which there were thirty-one 
 shot holes. 
 
 It was now nine o'clock. The wounded had been 
 carried to the hospital. The dismounted troopers were 
 placed in charge of them — in the double capacity of 
 nurses and guards. Zagonyi expected the foe to return 
 every minute. It seemed like Kiadness to try and hold 
 the town with hi^ small force, exhausted by the long 
 march and desperate figlit. He therefore left Springfield, 
 and retired before morning twenty-five miles on the* 
 Bolivar road. 
 
 Captain Fairbanks did not see his commander after 
 leaving the column in the lane at the commencement of 
 the engagement. ' About dusk he repaired to the prairie, 
 and remained there within a mile of the village until 
 midnight, when he followed Zagonyi, rejoining him in 
 the morning. 
 
 To return to Major White, During the conflict upon 
 the hill, he was in the forest near the front of the rebel 
 line. ■ Here his horse was shot under him. Captain 
 Wroton kept careful watch over him. When the flight 
 began he hurried White away, and, accompanied by a 
 squad of eleven men, took him ten miles into the country. 
 They stopped at a farm-house for the night. White dis- 
 covered that their host was a Union man. 
 
ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 39 
 
 His parole having expired, he took advantage of the 
 momentary absence of his captor to speak to the farmer, 
 telling him who he was, and asking him to send for 
 assistance. The countryman mounted his son upon his 
 swiftest horse, and sent him for succor. The party lay 
 down by the fire, White being placed in the midst. The 
 rebels were soon asleep, but there was no sleep for the 
 Major. 
 
 He listened anxiously for the footsteps of his rescuers. 
 After long, weary hours, he heard the tramp of horses. 
 He arose, and walking on tiptoe, cautiously stepping over 
 his sleeping guards, he reached. the door and silently un- 
 fastened it. The Union men rushed into the room and 
 took the astonished Wroton and his followers prisoners. 
 At daybreak White rode into Springfield at the head of 
 his captives and a motley band of Home Guards. He 
 found the Federals still in possession of the place. 
 
 As the officer of the highest rank he took command. 
 His garrison consisted of twenty-four men. He stationed 
 twenty-two of them as pickets in the outskirts of the vil- 
 lage, and held the other two as a reserve. At noon the 
 enemy sent in a flag of truce and asked permission to 
 bury their dead. Major White received the flag with 
 proper ceremony, but said that General Sigel was in 
 command, and the request would have to be referred to 
 him. 
 
 Sigel was then forty miles away. In a short time a 
 written communication, purporting to come from. Gen. 
 Sigel, saying that the rebels might send a party under 
 certain restrictions to bury their dead. White drew in 
 some of his pickets, stationed them about the field, and 
 under their surveillance the Southern dead were buried. 
 
 The loss of the enemy, as reported by some of their 
 working party, was one hundred and sixteen killed. The 
 number of wounded could not be ascertained. After the 
 conflict had drifted away from the hillside; some of the 
 
40 THE FEARFUL ORDEAL. 
 
 foG had returned to the iield, taken away their wounded 
 and robbed our dead. 
 
 The loss of the Guard was fifty-three out of one hun- 
 dred and forty-eight actually engaged, twelve men having 
 been left by Zagonyi in charge of his train. The Prairie 
 Scouts reported a loss of thirty-one out of one hundred 
 and thirty : half of these belong to the Irish Dragoons. 
 In a neighboring field an Irishman was found stark and 
 stiff, still clinging to the hilt of his sword, which was 
 thrust through the body of a rebel who lay beside him. 
 Within a few feet a second rebel lay, shot through the 
 head. 
 
 It was the first essay of «raw troops, and yet there are 
 few more brilliant achievements in history. 
 
 THE PEAEPUL OEDEAL. 
 
 A private in a certain regiment was tried by a court- 
 martial for deserting his post, and found guilty, 'the pun- 
 ishment for which is death. His execution was deferred 
 for some time, and he was kept in a painful state of sus- 
 pense. At last the time was fixed for his execution, and 
 five regiments were drawn up in line to witness it, while 
 a file of twelve men were in advance to execute the sen- 
 tence of death by shooting him. 
 
 The prisoner was led forward blindfolded, and the 
 usual words of preparation and command were given in 
 a low, measured tone, by the officer in command. 
 
 During the interval between the commands, ''take aim," 
 and "fire," and before the last was given, a horseman rode 
 rapidly up the road, waving in the air a paper, which 
 was understood by all present to be a reprieve. Covered 
 with dust and perspiration, tlie officer rode hurriedly up 
 to the officer in command, and delivered to him what 
 really proved to be a reprieve. 
 
 The shout " reprieve" fell \ipon the poor soldier's ear 
 
THE FRIGHTENED SPECULATORS. 41 
 
 wliicTi was already strained to tlie -atmost in anticipation 
 of hearing the Last and final word that was to usher his 
 soul into the presence of his Creator ; it was too much 
 for him, and he fell back upon his coffin apparently 
 dead. 
 
 The bandage was removed from his eyes, but reason 
 had taken its flight, and he became a hopeless maniac. 
 He was discharged from the army, and. sent home to his 
 friends. His death had really never been intended : but 
 it was deemed necessary for the good order and discipline 
 of the army to make an impression upon not only him- 
 self, but the whole brigade ; for that purpose .the forms 
 of the execution were regularly gone through with, in 
 presence of five regiments, and the reprieve arrived in 
 good time, as it was intended. 
 
 It was sought by this means to solemnly impress upon 
 the whole assemblage of. soldiers, the necessity of a 
 strict observance of duty and obedience, under the penalty 
 of an ignominious death. 
 
 Fearful, indeed, was the ordeal through which the de- 
 serter passed. 
 
 TEE TEIGHTENED SPEGULATOES. 
 
 "While the Union troops occupied Oxford, Miss., a very 
 ridiculous rumor got afloat among outsiders that a tre- 
 mendous rebel army was marching up from Grenada, 
 and a few of the cotton-buyers, who had heard of the bad 
 fortunes of the brethren at Holly Springs, became very 
 nervous. The troubles of one nervous pair furnished 
 merriment for hundreds. 
 
 They were lodging together at the hotel, and like cats 
 slept with one eye and both ears open. They had gone 
 to bed early with the intention of getting up in good 
 season and leaving the town with the first division qf the 
 army. They had just dozed ofi' in vmeasy slumbers when 
 
42 THE FRIGHTENED SPECULATORS. 
 
 a drum was beaten^ at rather an unusual hour, in some 
 one of our distant canips. 
 
 * " my Lord I" says Hammond, " there's the long roll 1 
 The enemy are coming, sure enough ! There's going to 
 be a battle right here I What shall we do ?" 
 
 Both were now up on end, listening to the sound. The 
 drum continued to roll, and as the wind carried the sound 
 about, it came- now near and loud, now faint and far, like 
 the sound of some ghostly drum beaten by spirits in the 
 air. 
 
 Presently a stronger gust of wind brought the sound, 
 apparently right under their window. This was too much. 
 In an instant they were on their feet, hunting distractedly 
 in the dark for boots, pantaloons, coats, etc. 
 
 Hammond was so " clean daft," as the Scotch say, that 
 he could find nothing but his coat (which contained his 
 money) and his spurs. Sorcie fun-loving acquaintance, 
 or the boot-black of the hotel, if the hotel was guilty 
 of thajb institution, had carried off his boots. After a 
 vain search for them, he drew on the coat, clapped the 
 spurs on his stocking feet, and started down-stairs for 
 his horse. "But," says Williams, "won't the guard arrest 
 US if we are out after night without the countersign?" 
 
 "Eh?" "countersign!" "guard!" and Hammond paused 
 for an instant on the stairs. Just then another puff of 
 wind brought the sound of the drum from the distant 
 hills ; that decided the matter ; down-stairs they went, 
 out to the stable, clapped on saddles and bridles, mounted 
 horse and away, and for three miles out from the north 
 side of Oxford, their flight from the sound of that drum 
 was equal to Tam O'Shanter's race with the witches 
 across the bridge. 
 
 Toward breakfast-time, not finding the road full of - 
 crowds, running away like themselves, and' the woods 
 around looking rather guerrillaish, they concluded that it 
 would be better to show their pluck by coming back to 
 town. 
 
THE DARING SPY. 43 
 
 The next night, one of the pair, Hammond, determined to 
 have more courageous company, and changed his lodging- 
 place. On going to bed, he inquired of his room-mate 
 if the enemy would be likely to search a man's stockings 
 for money, in case he was captured? On being told that 
 they probably would not think to look in them, he stowed 
 away six thousand dollars in one of the stockings, which 
 he took the precaution to wear on his feet during the 
 night - 
 
 In the morning he had forgotten where he had put 
 the money, and went to a mutual friend of himself, and his 
 room-mate, with a grievous story of his room-mate having 
 robbed him. Attention was, however, called to his bank 
 of deposits; and the matter satisfactorily adjusted. 
 
 THE DAEING SPY.. 
 
 " John Morford" — so let us call him, good reader- 
 was born near Augusta, Georgia, of Scotch parents, in 
 the year 1832. A blacksmith by trade, he early engaged 
 in railroading, and at the commencement of the rebellion 
 was master-mechanic upon a prominent Southern road. 
 Being a strong Union man, and making no secret of it, 
 he was discharged from his situation and not allowed 
 employment upon any other railroad. A company of 
 cavalry was also sent to his farm and stripped it. Ag- 
 grieved at this wholesale robbery, Morford went to John 
 H. Morgan, then a captain, and inquired if he would not 
 pay him for the property thus taken. Morgan replied 
 that- he should have his pay^if he would only prove his 
 loyalty to the South. Morford acknowledged this to be 
 impossible, and was thereupon very liberally cursed and 
 villified by Morgan, who accused him of harboring ne- 
 groes and traitors, and threatened to have him shot, 
 finally, however^ he was content with simply arresting 
 
44 THE DARING SPY. 
 
 him and sending liim, charged with disloyalty, to one 
 Major Peyton. 
 
 The major seems to have been a somewhat talkative 
 and argumentative man ; for upon Morford's arrival he 
 endeavored to reason him out of his adherence to the 
 Union, asking him, in the course of a lengthy conversa- 
 tion, many questions about the War, demonstrating, to his 
 own satisfaction at least, the necessity and justice of the 
 position assumed by the seceded States, and finishing, by 
 way of clenching the argument, with the inquiry, '' How 
 can you, a Southern man by birth and education, be op- 
 posed to the South ?" Morford replied that he saw no 
 reason for the rebellion, that the Union was good enough 
 for him, that he should cling to it, and, if he could obtain 
 a pass, would abandon the Confederacy and cast his lot 
 with the North. The Major then argued still more at 
 length, and, as a last resort, endeavored to frighten him 
 with a vivid description of the horrors of " negro equality" 
 — to all of which his hearer simply replied that he was 
 not afraid ; whereupon, as unskilful advocates of a bad 
 cause are prone to do, he became very wrathy, vented 
 his anger in a torrent of oaths and vile epithets, and told 
 Morford that he ought to be hung, and should be in two 
 weeks. The candidate for hempen honors, apparently 
 not at all alarmed^ coolly replied that he w^s sorry for 
 that, as he wished to live a little longer, but, if it must 
 be so, he couldn't help it. Peyton, meanwhile, cooled 
 down, and tol4 him that if he would give a bond of one 
 thousand dollars and take the oath of allegiance to the 
 Southern Confederacy, he would release him and protect 
 his property. After some .hesitation — no other plati of 
 escape occurring to him — Morford assented, and took the 
 required oath, upon the back of which Peyton wrote, " If 
 you violate this, I will hang you." 
 
 With this safeguard, Morford returned to his farm and 
 lived a quiet life. Buying a span of horses, he devoted 
 himself to the cultivation of his land, 'seeing as few per- 
 
THE DARING SPY. 45 
 
 sons as lie could, and talking with none. His house had 
 previously been the head-quarters of the Union men, but 
 was now deserted by them ; and its owner endeavored to 
 live up to the letter of the obligation he had taken. For a 
 short time all went well enough ; but one day a squad of 
 cavalry came with a special written order from Major 
 Peyton to take his two horses, which they did. • This 
 was too much for human nature ; and Morford, perceiving 
 that no faith could be placed in the assurances of those 
 in command; determined to be revenged iipon them and 
 their cause. His house again became a secret rendezvous 
 for Unionists ; and by trusty agents he managed to send 
 regular and valuable information to General Buell, then 
 in command in Tennessee. At length, however, in May, 
 1862, he was betrayed by one in whom he had placed 
 confidence, and arrested upon the charge of sending in- 
 formation to General Crittenden, at Battle Creek. He 
 indignantly denied the charge, and declared that he could 
 easily prove himself innocent if released for that purpose. 
 After three days' confinement, this was assented to ; and 
 Morford, knowing full well that he could not do what he 
 had promised, made a hasty retreat and fled to the moun- 
 tains, whence, some days afterwards, he emerged, and 
 went to McMinnville, at which place General Nelson was 
 then in command. 
 
 Here he remained until the rebel force left that vici- 
 nity, when he again went home, and lived undisturbed 
 upon his farm until Bragg returned with his army. The 
 presence in the neighborhood of so many officers cog- 
 nizant of his former arrest and escape rendered flight a 
 second time necessary. He now went to the camp of 
 General Donelson, Avith whom he had some acquaintance, 
 and soon became very friendly there — acting the while 
 in the double capacity of beef-contractor for the rebel 
 army and spy for General Crittenden. Leaving General 
 Donelson after some months' stay, although earnestly re- 
 quested to remain -longer, Morford next found his way 
 
46 , THE DARING SPY. 
 
 to Nasliville, where he made numerous expeditions as a 
 spy for General Negley. Buell was at Louisville, and 
 Nashville was then the Federal outpost. Morford tra- 
 velled about very re*adily upon passes given him hy 
 General Donelson, making several trips to Murfrees- 
 borough and one to Cumberland Gap. 
 
 Upon his return from the latter, he was arrested near 
 Lebanon, Tennessee, about one o'clock at night, by a party 
 of four soldiers -upon picket-duty at that point. Halting 
 him, the following conversation occurred : — 
 
 " Where do you live ?" 
 
 " Near Stewart's Ferry, between here and Nashville." 
 
 " Where have you been, and what for ?" 
 
 "Up to see my brother, to get from him some jeans 
 cloth and socks for another brother in the Confederate 
 army." 
 
 " How does it happen you are not in the army your- 
 self? That looks rather suspicious." 
 
 "Oh, I live too near the Federal lines to be con- 
 scripted." 
 
 " Well, we'll have to send you to Murfreesborough. I 
 reckon you're all right; but those are ou« orders, and 
 we can't go behind them." 
 
 To this Morford readily consented, saying he had no 
 objection ; and the party sat down by the fire and talked 
 in a friendly manner for some time. Morford soon re- 
 membered that he had a bottle of brandy with him, and 
 generously treated the crowd. Further conversation was 
 followed by a second drink, and soon by a third. One 
 of the party now proposed to exchange his Rosinantish 
 mare for a fine horse which Morford rode. The latter 
 was not inclined to trade ; but objection was useless, and 
 he finally yielded, receiving seventy-five dollars in Con- 
 federate money and the mare. The trade pleased the 
 soldier, and a present of a pair of socks still further en- 
 hanced his pleasure. His companions were also similarly 
 favored; and testified their appreciation of the gift by 
 
THE DARING SPY. 4T 
 
 endeavoring to piirchase the balance of Morford's stock. 
 He would not sell, however, as he wished to send them 
 to his brother at Kiclimond, by a person who had given 
 public notice that he was soon gC)ing there. A fourth 
 drink made all supremely happy; at which juncture 
 their prisoner asked permission to go to a friend's house, 
 only a quarter of a mile off, and stay until morning, when 
 he would go with them to Murfreesborough. His friend 
 of the horse trade, now very mellow, thought he need 
 not go to Murfreesborough at all, and said he would see 
 what the others said about it. Finally it was concluded 
 that he was " right," and might go ; Avhereupon he mounted 
 the skeleton mare and rode rejoicingly into Nashville. 
 
 On his next trip southward he was arrested by Colonel 
 John T. Morgan, just as he came out of the Federal lines, 
 and, as his only resort, joined Forrest's command, and 
 was furnished with a horse and gun. The next day 
 Forrest made a speech to his men, and told them that 
 they were now going to capture Nashville. The column 
 immediately began its march, and Morford, by some 
 means, managed to have himself placed in the advance. 
 Two miles below Lavergne a halt for the night was made ; 
 but Morford's horse was unruly, and could not be stopped, 
 carrying its rider ahead and out of sight. It is need- 
 less to say that this obstinacy was not overcome until 
 Nashville was reached, nor that when Forrest came, the 
 next day. General Negley was amply prepared for him. 
 
 At this time Nashville was invested. Buell was known 
 to be advancing towards the city, but no scouts had been 
 able to go to or come from him. A handsome reward was 
 offered to any one who would carry a despatch safely 
 through to Bowling Green, and Morford undertook to 
 do it. Putting the document under the lining of his 
 boot, he started for Gallatin, where he arrived safely. 
 
 For some hours he sauntered around the place, lounged 
 in and out of bar-rooms, made friends with the rebel sol- 
 diers, and; towards evening purchased a small bag of 
 
48 THE DARING SPY. 
 
 corn-meal, a bottle of wliiskey, a pound or two of salt, 
 and some smaller articles, which he threw across his 
 sho.nlder and started up the Louisville road, with hat on 
 one side, hair in admirable disorder, and, apparently, 
 gloriously drunk. . The pickets jested at and made sport 
 of him, but permitted him to pass. The meal, etc. was 
 carried six miles, when he suddenly became sober, drop- 
 ped it, and hastened on to Bowling Green, and there 
 met General Eosecrans, who had just arrived. His in- 
 formation was very valuable. Here he remained until 
 the a^niy came up and passed on, and then set out on 
 his return on foot as he had come. He supposed that 
 our forces had gone by way of Gallatin, but when near 
 that place learned that it was still in possession of the 
 rebels, and so stopped for the night in a shanty between 
 Morgan's pickets, on the north side, and Woolfoyd's 
 (Union), on the south side. During the night the two 
 had a fight, which finally centred around the shanty, and 
 resulted in driving Morford to the woods. In two or 
 three hours he came back for his clothes, and found that 
 the contending parties had disappeared, and that the 
 railroad- tunnels had been filled with wood, and fired. 
 Hastily gathering his effects together, he made his way 
 to Tyree -Springs, and thence to Nashville. 
 
 For a short time he acted as a detective of the Army 
 Police at Nashville, assuming the character of a rebel 
 soldier, and living in the families of prominent secession- 
 ists. In this work he was very successful ; but it had 
 too little of danger and adventure, and he returned again 
 to scouting, making several trips southward, sometimes 
 without trouble, but once or twice being arrested, and 
 escaping as best he could. In these expeditions he vis- 
 ited McMinnville, Murfreesborough, Altamont, on the 
 Cumberlaod Mountains, Bridgeport, Chattanooga, and 
 other places of smaller note. He travelled usually in 
 the guise of a smuggler, actually obtaining orders for 
 goods from prominent rebels, and sometimes the money 
 
THE DARING SPY. 49 
 
 in advance, filling tliem in Kasliville, and delivering the 
 articles upon his next trip. Just before tlie battle of 
 Stoiie Kiver he received a large order to be filled for the 
 rebel hospitals, went to Nashville, procured the medicine, 
 and returned to McMinnville, when he delivered some of 
 it. Thence he travelled to Bradyville, and thence to 
 Murfreesborough, arriving there just as the battle began. 
 Presenting some of the surgeons with a supply of mor- 
 phine, he assisted them in attending the wounded for a 
 day or two, and then went to a hospital tent in the woo^ls 
 near the railroad, where he also remained one day and 
 part of another. The fight was now getting hot, and, 
 fearful that somebody would recognize him, he left Mur- 
 freesborough on Friday, and went to McMinnville. He 
 had been there but little more than an hour, having 
 barely time to put up his horse and step into a house 
 near by to see some wounded men, when two soldiers 
 arrived in search of him. Their description of him was 
 perfect ; but he escaped by being out of sight — the friend 
 with whom he Was supposed to be, declaring, though 
 closely questioned, that he had not seen and knew 
 nothing of him. In a few minutes pickets were thrown 
 out around the town, and it was two days before he 
 could get away. Obtaining a pass to Chattanooga at 
 last, only -through the influence of a lad}^" acquaintance, 
 with it he passed the guards, but, when once out of sight, 
 turned ofi' from the Chattanooga road, and made his way 
 safely to ISTashville. 
 
 General Eosecrans was now in possession of Murfre.es- 
 borough, and thither Morford proceeded with some smug- 
 gler's goods, with a view to another trip. The necessary 
 permission was readily obtained, and he set out for 
 Woodbury. Leaving his wagon outside the rebel lines, 
 he proceeded on foot to McMinnville, arriving there on 
 the 19th of January last, and finding Greneral John H. 
 Morgan, to whom he represented himself as a former 
 resident in the vicinity of Woodbury ; his family, how- 
 4 
 
50 THE DARING SPY. 
 
 ever, had moved away, and he would like permission to 
 take his wagon and bring away the household goods. 
 This was granted, and the wagon brought to McMinnville, 
 whence Morford went to Chattanooga, representing himself 
 along the road as a fugitive from the Yankees. Near 
 Chattanooga he began selling his goods to Unionists and 
 rebels alike, at enormous prices, and soon closed them 
 out at a profit of from four hundred to five hundred dol- 
 lars. At Chattanooga he remained a few days, obtained 
 all the information he could, and returned to Murfrees- 
 borough without trouble. 
 
 His next and last trip is the most interesting and 
 daring of all his adventures. Making a few days' stay 
 in Murfreesborough, he went to McMinnville, and re- 
 mained there several days, during which time he burned 
 Hickory Creek Bridge, and sent a report of it to General 
 Eosecrans. This he managed with so much secrecy and 
 skill as to escape all suspicion of complicity in the work, 
 mingling freely with the citizens and talking the matter 
 over in all its phases. From McMinnville Morford pro- 
 ceeded to Chattanooga, and remained there nearly a week, 
 when he learned that three of our scouts were imprisoned 
 in the Hamilton County jail, at Harrison,' Tennessee, and 
 were to be shot on the first Friday in May. Determined 
 to attempt their rescue, he sent a Union man to the town 
 to ascertain who was jailer, what the number of the guards, 
 how they were placed, and inquire into the condition of 
 things in general about the jail. Upon receipt of his report, 
 Morford gathered about him nine Union men, on the night 
 of Tuesday, April 21, and started for Harrison. Before 
 reaching the place, however, they heard rumors that the 
 guard had been greatly strengthened ; and, fearful that 
 it would prove too powerful for them, the party retreated 
 to the mountains on the north side of the Tennessee Eiver, 
 where they remained concealed until Thursday night. 
 On Wednesday night the same man who had previously 
 gone to the town was again sent to reconnoitre the posi- 
 
THE DABING SPY. 51 
 
 tion. Thursday morning lie returned and said that the 
 story of a strong guard was all false : there were but two 
 in addition to the jailer. 
 
 Morford's party was now reduced to six, including 
 himself : but he resolved to make the attempt that night. 
 Late in the afternoon all went down to the river and 
 loitered around until dark, when they procured boats and 
 crossed to the opposite bank. Taking the Chattanooga 
 and Harrison road, they entered the town, looked around 
 at leisure, saw no soldiers nor anything unusual, and 
 proceeded towards the jail. Approaching quite near, 
 they threw themselves upon the ground and surveyed the 
 premises carefully. The jail was surrounded by a high 
 board fence, in Avhich were two gates, Morford's plan of 
 operations was quickly arranged. Making a prisoner of 
 one of his own men, he entered the inclosure, posting a 
 sentinel at each gate. Once inside, a light was visible in 
 the jail, and Morford marched confidently up to the door 
 and rapped. The jailer thrust his head out of a window 
 and asked what was wanted. He was told, " Here is a 
 prisoner to put in .the jail." Apparently satisfied, the 
 jailer soon opened the-door and admitted the twain into 
 the entry. In 'a moment, however, he beca,me alarmed, 
 and, hastily exclaiming, " Hold on !" stepped out. 
 
 For ten minutes Morford waited patiently for his return, 
 supposing, of course, that he could not escape from the 
 yard, both gates being guarded. Not making his appear- 
 ance, it was found that the pickets had allowed him to 
 pass them. This rather alarming fact made haste neces- 
 sary, and Morford, returning to the jail, said he must put 
 his prisoner in immediately, and demanded the keys forth- 
 with. The women declared in positive terms that they 
 hadn't them, and did not know where they were. One 
 of the guards was discovered in bed and told to get the 
 keys. Proving rather noisy and saucy, he was reminded 
 that he might get his head taken ofiP if he were not quiet 
 — which intimation effectually silenced him. Morford 
 
 \ 
 
52 THE DARING SPY. 
 
 again demanded tlie keys, and the women, somewhat 
 frightened, gave him the key to the outside door. Un- 
 locking it, and lighting np the place with candles, he found 
 himself in a room around the sides of which was ranged 
 a line of wrought-iron cages. In one of these were five 
 persons, four white and one negro. Carrying out the 
 character he had assumed of a rebel soldier in charge of 
 a prisoner, Morford talked harshly enough to the caged 
 men, and threatened to hang them at once, at which they 
 were very naturally alarmed, and began to beg for mercy. 
 For a third time the 'kejs to the inner room, in which the 
 scouts were, were demanded, and a third time the women 
 denied having them. An axe was then ordered to be 
 brought, but there was none about the place : so said they. 
 Morford saw that they were trifling with him, and deter- 
 mined to stop it. Snatching one of the jailer's boys 
 standing near by the collar, and drawing his sabre, he 
 told him he would cnt his head off if he did not bring 
 him an axe in two minutes. This had the desired effect; 
 and the axe was forthcoming. 
 
 Morford now began cutting away at the lock, when he 
 was startled by hearing the word "halt!" at the gate. 
 Of his five men two were at the gates, two were inside as 
 a guard, and one was holding the light. Keady for a 
 fight^ he went out to see what was the matter. The sen- 
 tinel reporting that he had halted an armed man putside, 
 Morford walked out to him and demanded — 
 
 "What are you doing here with that gun ?" 
 
 " Miss Laura said yon were breaking down the jail, and 
 I want to see McAllister, the jailer. Where is he ?" was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Well, suppose I am breaking down the jail: what 
 are you going to do abont it ?" 
 
 "I am going to stop it if I can." 
 
 " What's your name ?" 
 
 "Lowry Johnson." 
 
 By this time Morford had grasped the mnzzle of the 
 
THE DARING SPY. 53 
 
 gun, and told liim to let go. Instead of complying, 
 Johnson tried to pall it away ; but a blow upon the neck 
 from Morford's sabre soon made liim drop it. Morford 
 now began to search him for other weapons, but before 
 he had concluded the operation Johnson broke away, 
 leaving a part of his clothing in Morford's hands. The 
 latter drew his revolver and pursued, firing five shots at 
 him, sometimes at a distance of only six or eight paces. 
 A cry, as of pain, showed that he was struck, but he 
 managed to reach the hotel (kept by his brother), and, 
 bursting in the door, which was fastened, escaped into 
 the house. Morford followed, but too late. Johnson's 
 brother now came out and rang the bell in front, which 
 gathered a crowd about the door ; but Morford, not at all 
 daunted, told them that if they wanted to guard the jail 
 they had better be about it quick,, as he was going to 
 burn it and the town in the bargain. This so frightened 
 them that no further demonstration was made, and Mor- 
 ford returned to the jail unmolested. There he and his 
 men made so much shouting and hurrahing as to frighten 
 the people of the town beyond measure ; and many lights 
 from upper-story windows were extinguished, and the 
 streets were deserted. 
 
 A half-hour's work was necessary to break off the out- 
 side lock, a splendid burglar-proof one. Morford now 
 discovered that the door was double, and that the inner 
 one was made still more secure by being barred with three 
 heavy log-chains. These were cut in two with the axe; 
 but the strong lock of the door still remained. He again 
 demanded the key, and told the women if it was not 
 produced he would murder the whole of them. The 
 rebel guard, Lew. Luttrell by name, was still in bed. 
 Eising up, he said that the key was not there. Morford 
 now ordered Luttrell to get out of bed, in a tone so 
 authoritative that that individual deemed it advisable to 
 comply. Scarcely was he out, however, before Morford 
 struck at him with his sabre ; but he was too far off, and 
 
64 THE DARING SPY. 
 
 tlie blow fell upon one of tlie children, drawing some 
 blood. This frightened the women, and, concluding that 
 he was about to put his threat in execution and would 
 murder them surely enough, they produced the key with- 
 out further words. No time Was lost in unlocking the 
 door and releasing the inmates of the room. Procuring 
 their clothes for them and arming one with Johnson's gun, 
 the whole party left the jail and hurried towards the 
 river. Among the released prisoners was a rebel with a 
 wooden leg, the original having been shot off at Manassas. 
 He persisted in accompanying the others, and was only 
 induced to go back by the intimation that " dead men 
 tell no tales." 
 
 Crossing the river in the boats, they were moved to 
 another place at some distance, to preclude the possibility 
 of being tracked and followed. All now hid themselves 
 among the mountains, and the same Union man was again 
 sent to Harrison, this time to see how severely Johnson 
 was wounded. He returned in a day or two, and reported 
 that he had a severe sabre-cut on the shoulder, a bullet 
 through the muscle of his right arm, and two slight 
 wounds in one of his hands. Morford and his men re- 
 mained in the mountains until all search for the prisoners 
 was over, then went to the Cumberland Mountains, where 
 they remained one day and a portion of another, and 
 then proceeded in the direction of McMinnville. Hiding 
 themselves in the woods near this place during the day, 
 seeing but not seen, they travelled that night to within 
 eleven miles of Woodbury, when they struck across the 
 road from McMinnville to Woodbury. Near Logan's 
 Plains they were fired on by a body of rebel cavalry, but, 
 though some forty shots were fired, no one of the ten was 
 harmed, Morford having one bullet-hole in his coat. The 
 cavalry, however, pursued them across the barrens, sur- 
 rounded them, and supposed themselves sure of their 
 game ; but Morford and his companions scattered and hid 
 away, not one being captured or found. Night coming 
 
LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 51 
 
 on, the cavalry gave up the chase, and went on to Wood- 
 bury, where they threw out pickets, not doubting that 
 they would pick up tjie objects of their search during the 
 night. Morford, however, was informed of this fact hy a 
 citizen, and, in consequence, lay concealed all the next 
 day, making his way safely to Murfreesborough, with all 
 of his company, the day after. 
 
 LITTLE EDDIE, THE DEUMMER BOY. 
 
 A few days before our regiment received orders to 
 join General Lyon, on his march to Wilson's Creek, the 
 drummer of our company was taken sick, and conveyed 
 to the hospital, and on the evening preceding the day 
 that we were to march, a negro was arrested within the 
 lines of the camp, and brought before our captain, who 
 asked him, "what business he had within the lines?" 
 
 He replied : " I know a drummer that you would like 
 to enlist in your company, and I have come to tell you 
 of it." He was immediately requested to inform the 
 drummer that if he would enlist for our short term 
 of service he would be allowed extra pay, and to do this, 
 he must be on the ground early in the morning. The 
 'negro was then passed beyond the guard. 
 
 On the following morning there appeared before the 
 captain's quarters during the beating of the reveille, a 
 good-looking, middle-aged women, dressed in deep mourn- 
 ing, leading by the hand a sharp, sprightly -looking boy, 
 apparently about twelve or thirteen years of age. 
 
 Her story was soon told. She was from East Ten- 
 nessee, where her husband had been killed by the rebels, 
 and all their property destroyed. She had come to St. 
 Xiouis in search of her sister, but not finding her, and 
 being destitute of money, she thought if she could pro- 
 cure a situation for her boy as a drummer for the short 
 time that we had to remain in the service, she could find 
 
66 LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 
 
 employment for lierself, and perhaps find her sister by 
 the time we were discharged. 
 
 During the rehearsal of her story the little fellow kept 
 his eyes intently fixed upon the countenance of the cap- 
 tain, who was about to express a determination not to 
 take so small a boy, when he spoke out — 
 
 "Don't be afraid, captain, I can drum." 
 
 This was spoken with so much confidence, that the 
 captain immediately observed, with a smile — 
 
 "Well, well, sergeant, bring the drum, and order our 
 fifer to come forward." 
 
 In a few moments the drum was produced, and our 
 fifer, a tall, round-shouldered, good-natured fellow, from 
 the Dubuque mines, who stood, when erect, something 
 over six feet in height, soon made his appearance. 
 
 Upon being introduced to his new comrade, he stooped 
 down, with his hands resting upon his knees, that were 
 thrown forward into an acute angle, and after peering 
 into the little fellow's face a moment, he observed — 
 
 "My little man, can you drum?" 
 ' "Yes, sir," he replied, "I drummed for Captain Hill in 
 Tennessee." 
 
 Our fifer immediately commenced straightening him- 
 self upward, until all the angles in his person had disap- 
 peared, when he placed his fife in his mouth, and played 
 the " Flowers of Edenborough," one of the most difficult 
 things to follow with the drum that could have been se- 
 lected, and nobly did the little fellow follow him, showing 
 himself to be a master of the drum. When the music 
 ceased, our captain turned to the mother and observed — 
 
 " Madam, I will take your boy. What is his name ?" 
 
 "Edward Lee," she replied; then placing her hand 
 upon the captain's arm, she continued, " Captain, if he is 
 not killed — " here her maternal feelings overcame her 
 utterances, and she bent down over her boy and kissed 
 him upon the forehead. 
 
LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 51 
 
 As she arose, she observed : " Captain, you will bring 
 him back with you, won't you ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," he replied, " we will be certain to bring 
 him back with us. We shall be discharged in six 
 weeks." ' 
 
 In an hour after, our company led the Iowa First out 
 of camp, our drum and fife playing "The girl I left 
 behind me." Eddie, as we called him, soon became a 
 great favorite with all the men in the company. When 
 any of the boys had returned from a horticultural excur- 
 sion, Eddie's share of the peaches and melons was the first 
 apportioned out. During our heavy and fatiguing march 
 from Eolla to Springfield, it was often amusing to see 
 our long-legged fifer wading through the mud with our 
 little drummer mounted upon his back — and always iu 
 that position when fording streams. 
 
 During the fight at Wilson's Creek, I was stationed 
 with a part of our company on the right of Totten's bat- 
 tery, while the balance of our company with a part of 
 the Illinois regiment was ordered down into a deep ra- 
 vine upon our left, in which it was known a portion of 
 the enemy was conceajed, with whom they were soon 
 engaged. The contest in the ravine continuing some 
 time, Totten suddenly wheeled his battery upon the 
 enemy in that quarter, when they soon retreated to the 
 high ground behind their lines. 
 
 In less than twenty minutes after Totten had driven 
 the enemy from the ravine, the word passed from man 
 to man throughout the army, " Lyon is killed," and soon 
 after, hostilities having ceased upon both sides, the order 
 came for our main force to fall back upon Springfield, 
 while a part of the Iowa First and two companies of the 
 Missouri regiment were to camp upon the ground, and 
 cover the retreat next morning. 
 
 That night I was detailed for guard duty, my turn of 
 
 -^uard closing with the morning call. When I went out 
 
 with the officer as a relief; I found that my post was 
 
68 LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 
 
 upon a higli eminence tliat overlooked the deep ravine, 
 in whicli our men had engaged the enemy, until Totten's 
 battery came to their assistance. It was a dreary, lone- 
 some beat. The moon had gone down in the early part 
 of the night, while the stars twinkled dimly through a 
 hazy atmosphere, lighting up imperfectly the surround- 
 ing objects. Occasionally I would place my ear near 
 the ground and listen for the sound of footsteps, but all 
 was silent save the far-off howling of the wolf, that seemed 
 to scent upon the evening air the banquet that we had 
 been preparing for him. 
 
 The hours passed slowly away, when at length the 
 morning light began to streak along the eastern sky, 
 making surrounding objects more plainly visible. Pre- 
 sently I heard a drum beat np the morning call. At 
 first I thought it came from the camp of the enemy across 
 the creek ; but as I listened, I found that it came "up from 
 the deep ravine; for a few minutes it was silent, and 
 then as it became more light I heard it again. I listened 
 — the sound of the drum was familiar to me — and I 
 knew that it was — 
 
 Our drummer boy from Tennessee, 
 Beating for help the reveille. 
 
 I was about to desert my post to go to his assistance, 
 when I discovered the of&cer of the guard approaching 
 with two men. "We all listened to the sound, and were 
 satisfied that it was Eddie's drum. I asked permission 
 to go to his assistance. The officer hesitated, saying that 
 the orders were to march in twenty minutes. I promised 
 to be back in that time, and he consented. I immediately 
 started down the hill through the thick undergrowth, 
 and upon reaching the valley I followed the sound of 
 the drum, and soon found him seated upon the ground, 
 his back leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree, while 
 his drum hung upon a bush in front of him, reaching. 
 
LITTLE EDDIE, THE DRUMMER BOY. 59 
 
 nearly to the ground. As soon as "he discovered me lie 
 dropped his drum-sticks and exclaimed — 
 
 '* O corporal ! I am so glad to see yon. Give me a 
 drink," reaching out his hand for my canteen, which 
 was empty. 
 
 I immediately turned to bring him some water from 
 the brook that 1 could hear rippling through the bushes 
 near by, when thinking that I was about to leave him, 
 he commenced crying, saying — 
 
 " Don't leave me, corporal — I can't walk." 
 
 I was soon back with the water, when I discovered 
 that both of his feet had been shot away by a cannon 
 ball. After satisfying his thirst, he looked up into my 
 face, and said — 
 
 " You don't think I will die, corporal, do you ? This 
 man said I would not — he said the surgeon could cure 
 my feet." 
 
 I now discovered a man lying in the grass near him. 
 By his dress I recognized him as belonging to the enemy. 
 It appeared that he had been shot through the bowels, 
 and had fallen near where Eddie lay. Knowing that he 
 could not live, and seeing the condition of the bo}^, he had 
 crawled to him, taken off his buckskin suspenders, and 
 corded the little fellow's legs below the knee, and then 
 lay down and died. 
 
 While he was telling me these particulars, I heard 
 the tramp of cavalry coming down the ravine, and in a 
 moment a scout of the enemy was upon us, and I was 
 taken prisoner. I requested the officer to take Eddie up 
 in front of him, and he did so, carrying him with great 
 tenderness and care. When we reached the camp of th'e 
 enemy the little fellow was dead. 
 
60 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 How old Old Ben was no one knew exactly — ^not even 
 Old Ben himself. He had been called Old Ben so far back 
 that the memory of the oldest inhabitant served not to 
 remember him by any other designation. Ben said that 
 he must have been born old, for he had dim recollections 
 of his mother calling him an " old-fashioned feller" before 
 he was big enough to weed the garden. When he ar- 
 rived at man's estate the girls invariably called him 
 either Old Bachelor Ben or Old Ben. So he had made 
 up his mind to one thing, and that was, he never was 
 young Ben. He was never known to have been sick, 
 except it was that he had " the cussed shakes and fever a 
 spell." With that exception, he had never invested much 
 in patent medicines or other doctor's stuff, and was con- 
 sequently a vigorous man, standing firm in his boots. He 
 was tall, and had not much flesh to spare, but he often 
 remarked that it " tuk a lean hoss for a long race, and he 
 was one on 'em." He knew the Mississippi, Cumberland, 
 and Tennessee Rivers, he said, better than he did his 
 Testament,- and had acquired considerable fame for his 
 skill at the oar and the wheel. He was the man to take 
 a craft safe through a shute or over dangerous places, 
 and for that duty was still preferred to others many years 
 his junior. As for old Tennessee, he knew every inch 
 of her " sile," and on that " p'int" he wouldn't yield a 
 notch to any man, living or dead. His courage was 
 known to be of the right stripe, and he was set down as 
 a tough old knot that would turn the edge of many a 
 bright axe if an attempt was made to split him. 
 
 At the time the hurricane of rebellion swept over the 
 State, Old Ben was on a visit to Knoxville, where he was 
 well known. The many outrages perpetrated upon those 
 who refused to succumb to the rebel sway so aroused his 
 ^ ire that he at length said that he believed that he was 
 
OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 61 
 
 beginning to turn " Injun," and that lie couldn't die until 
 he had had revenge upon the scaly varmints, who, he as- 
 serted, were mean enough to cut their grandmothers' 
 throats for the sake of getting what the old women had 
 in their stockings. One night he had been listening to a 
 chap, whom he knew as a briefless lawyer from Clarksville, 
 haranguing a crowd in a bar-room, and growing indignaM 
 at what he considered the fellow's insolence, he interrupted 
 him with — 
 
 " See here, stranger, yer kin talk jest like clock-work 
 about them cussed abolishunists — and every one knows 
 that I hates 'em as I do pizen — but I'll jest bet yer drinks 
 for the crowd that yer never owned a nisfger for 'em to 
 steal." 
 
 This challenge from Old Ben, which somewhat stag- 
 gered the speaker, was received with much secret satis- 
 faction by several Union men of the group, who, from 
 necessity, were obliged to conceal their sentiments, and 
 created a general laugh. It was a few minutes before 
 the lawyer could recover his self-possession. He then 
 drew himself up to assume as great a degree of dignity 
 as possible, and fixing Avhat he intended as a withering 
 look on Old Ben, while a contemptuous smile played 
 around the corners of his mouth, he said — 
 
 " Old man, I suppose you are some of the Union rub- 
 bish that has not yet been swept out of the State." 
 
 "Thar yer right. I'm Union clear through to the 
 marrow, and if I had my way I'd hang up a few such 
 chaps as you ar', who never work, but ar' everlastin' 
 smellin' around for some ofl&ce, and who have brought all 
 this trouble on the country. Yer ar' now goin' about de- 
 ceivin' honest people — tellin' 'em that the Avhole North 
 ar' agoin' to turn nigger stealers, and that the only way 
 for southern men to pertect thar property is -for 'em to 
 dissolve the Union and 'stablish a one-hoss consarn, with 
 such one-hoss chaps as you at the head of it. I'd hang 
 
62 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 yer up without judge or j ur j. That would be the quickest 
 way to settle the mischief yer have made." 
 
 A loud braying from some of the converts to the new 
 doctrines greeted the remarks of Old Ben. But nothing 
 daunted thereat, he exclaimed — 
 
 "Yer may bray jest as much as yer a mind to. But 
 jhr kin remember that jackasses do the same thing. And 
 ally one who jines the secession crew ain't fit to be named 
 the same day with a jackass. Them's my sentiments, 
 and I don't care who knows 'em." 
 
 " Look out, Old Ben ! You'll be talkin' treason next, 
 and then you'll be arrested," said one of the crowd who 
 sympathized with the rebels, yet was very friendly with 
 Old Ben. 
 
 "Treason!" ejaculated the lawyer. "He has been 
 doing nothing else but talking treason, and should be ar- 
 rested forthwith." 
 
 " Oh no ; Old Ben won't do any harm !" exclaimed an- 
 other secessionist, who did not wish to see the old man 
 molested. 
 
 " You've arrested a good many honest people who never 
 harmed any one, and I expect my turn will come one of 
 these days," replied 'Old Ben. 
 
 " You may depend upon that !" exclaimed the lawyer. 
 '' It won't be long before you are elevated !" and here he 
 gave a" peculiar jerk with the hand which he held near 
 his neck. " If you don't mend your manners, you will 
 go up soon, old man." 
 
 Old Ben was about to reply, but was interrupted by 
 the entrance of a man, followed by a number of others, 
 who called the lawyer one side, and then entered into a 
 low but earnest conversation with him. The new-comer 
 was a thick-set, brutal-looking man, with a face well 
 covered with heavy black hair. He was generally known 
 as Black Dave, and his business had been that of a negro- 
 trader ; but he was now at the head of a band of rufl&ans 
 who, under his direction, had been guilty of many acts 
 
OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. "63 
 
 of barbarism. The lawyer was a sort of lieutenant and 
 adviser to the band. Old Ben pointed to the spot where 
 thej stood; and said — 
 
 "Some dirty business is afloat, I reckon, when two 
 such chaps get together. One on 'em, who never owned 
 a nigger or enough money to pay his licker bill, talks 
 about the ' North stealin' our niggers !' Them's his words. 
 The other one has run off more niggers, and sold 'eto 
 down south, than the abolishunists have stolen these ten 
 years. If them ar' the chaps what ar' agoin' to be yer 
 leaders, ye'll soon smell so bad that the devil won't allow 
 3^er to come within rifle-shot of the front door of hell. 
 He will have yer all pitched down the back way I" 
 
 After giving utterance to these sentiments Old Ben 
 turned on his heel and strolled leisurely out of the room. 
 He had not gone far ere he was overtaken by one of the 
 party from the bar-room, whom he knew as a sound Union 
 man, and who said, in a low tone — 
 
 "You will have to be very careful of yourself after 
 what you have said. I overheard Black Dave tell the 
 other that your case would be attended to shortly." 
 
 " They'll attend to me shortly, will they, eh ?" ejacu- 
 lated Old Ben. " Then, I say, let 'em come on ! I'll 
 cling to the Union as long as thar's a splinter left ! I 
 can't live much longer, any way, but while I do live I'll 
 live like a man !" 
 
 " You are well acquainted with the mountains, are you 
 not?" 
 
 " Eeckon I am." 
 
 " You know that a great many Union men, who have 
 been driven from their homes, have been obliged to seek 
 a hiding-place there until such times as the Union army 
 gets this way." 
 
 " Yes, I know it ; . and what is more, I'm agoin' to 
 make one on 'em. I itch to have a little vengeance on 
 them scaly varmints. If the Union men about here had 
 
64 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 more of the Parson's stuff in 'em, we'd make screechin' 
 work among them turkey-buzzards." 
 
 " But you can't expect all men to be Brownlows. His 
 very boldness awed them for a while, but you see they 
 are getting over that uoay. Men have to be prudent for 
 the sake of their families. If you will come up to my 
 house to-morrow night, you will hear something that will 
 do you good, and how you can be of vast service to the 
 Union men in this vicinity. Will you come ?" 
 
 ^^Yes; nibethar!" 
 
 Old Ben's companion noticing Black Dave and the 
 lawyer approaching, walked quickly forward. It was- 
 rather a secluded spot where they had been standing, and 
 Old Ben being in the shade was not observed by either 
 Black Dave or the lawyer. They halted, and Black 
 Dave, with great gesticulation, said — 
 
 '' I've sworn to have vengeance on the old cuss, and 
 no'vy is my time! He didn't think that I was good 
 enough for his daughter. If it hadn't been for him, I 
 believe I could have got the girl ; but as I've lost her, 
 I'm bent upon having my pay." 
 
 " What do you propose to do ? Has he got much that 
 we could lay our hands upon ?" said the lawyer. 
 
 " We'll go out to his place toward midnight, and drag 
 the old hound out of his nest. If I once fairly get him 
 in my power, I'll make him sing psalms. I will let him 
 know if I ain't as good as any of his breed ! He has got 
 a couple of fine horses^ we'll take them, any how. But 
 come, let us go back now and have a drink with the boys ! 
 They'll miss us. You see I don't want any of 'em to 
 know where we are agoing to. It might get talked about, 
 and some Hessian spy give him the alarm." 
 
 As they disappeared Old Ben came forth from a hiding- 
 place where he had ensconced himself for the purpose of 
 learning what mischief, they were planning. Looking 
 after the retreating figures he muttered, half aloud — 
 
 " I'll hea'd off them devils yet, or else I'll give 'em leave 
 
OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 65 
 
 to call me a skunk ! The old man whar right in show- 
 ing Black Dave the door. He should have kicked him 
 out. That's what I would have done. But I'll head off 
 the villains! I'll head 'em offl" he ejaculated, as he 
 hastened forward. 
 
 Black Dave and his lieutenant returned to the bar-room, 
 where they with their companions indulged in a drunken 
 revel. Toward midnight he got together some ten or a 
 dozen of those who were the least intoxicated, and. started 
 out on his work of vengeance. 
 
 This band of "defenders of the rights oT Southern 
 men," as they styled themselves, had proceeded a con- 
 siderable distance from the tavern when their commander 
 ordered them to halt in front of a modest-looking dwell- 
 ing, surrounded by pleasant grounds. He then addressed 
 them as follows : — 
 
 " Boys ! now we are about to catch one of the blackest- 
 hearted traitors in the South. He is a regular white- 
 livered Lincolnite, and it ain't to be expected that w^ will 
 show him much mercy. So, follow me !" 
 
 Black Dave then opened the gate and went toward the 
 house, followed by his band. He gave several loud raps 
 on the door with the butt of a pistol, and it not being 
 promptly opened, he applied the heel of his heavy boot 
 and administered a^ number of lusty kicks. The cloor 
 was at length opened by rather an elderly female, who 
 had a light in her hand. As soon as Black Dave caught 
 a glimpse of her countenance he said, m a gruff voice — 
 
 " We want your old man. Tell him to turn out quiclv, 
 and not to keep us a-waiting." 
 
 " He is not at home," was the mild response. 
 
 " You lie ! we know better ! If you don't turn him 
 out, we'll go in and drag him out !" 
 
 " I assure you, sir, that he is not in the house." 
 
 " Come, hoys, follow me ! We won't put up with any 
 of the old woman's nonsense." 
 
 Black Dave, as he uttered these words, entered th« 
 5 
 
66 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 house, accompanied by several of his followers. After 
 a lapse of a few minutes he returned, with a countenance 
 blacker than usual, exclaiming — 
 
 " The old hound has run away, boys ; but the black- 
 hearted traitor don't escape my vengeance so easy. Just 
 throw a torch in the barn yonder." 
 
 " Oh ! do not fire the place ! Have some mercy for the 
 family !" entreated the old lady. 
 
 " What is the family to me ? I wasn't good enough 
 to make one of them ! They are a brood of traitors, the 
 whole of them, and if you don't want 'em roasted, you had 
 better turn 'em out !" 
 
 After giving utterance to these brutal words he strode 
 off toward the outbuildings, seizing a torch from one of 
 his followers as he passed along. Looking in the stable 
 and finding that the horses were gone, he gave utterance 
 to a vile oath, and then threw the torch among some loose 
 hay. Watching the flames as they crept slowly along, 
 while a fiendish smile spread over his features, he told 
 one of his band to pick up some of the hay and follow 
 him. He then went toward the dwelling, and ordered the 
 man to throw the hay on the kitchen floor; and then, 
 despite the entreaties of the old lady and the cries of two 
 or three children, who had been hurried from their beds 
 and stood in their night-clothes clinging to their mother, 
 the rufiian applied the torch. When the flames were 
 fairly under way he said — 
 
 " Come on, boys ! Leave 'em to shift for themselves. 
 Let us see if we can't track the old hound." 
 
 The rufiian then, followed by his band, retreated down 
 the roj.d, turning occasionally to behold the flames as 
 they licked up that once happy home. 
 
 The next evening Old Ben was prompt to his appoint- 
 ment, and as he listened to the narration of the outrage 
 to a party of Union men, he exclaimed, as his countenance 
 glowed with excitement — 
 
 " The miserable scaly buzzards ! I wouldn't a thought 
 
OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 6T 
 
 they'd gone so far ; they're worse nor Injuns ! I reckoned 
 it whar all right when I gave him the alarm and he got 
 safe off. But to fire the house, and turn the wimen folks 
 and children out doors that time of night — I swar I'll 
 have vengeance for it 1 It mout not be quite reg'lar, but 
 yer kin jest sot Old Ben down for Black Dave and that 
 white-livered skunk from Clarksville. If I don't fix 
 thar flint for 'em then I won't trust bullet and powder 
 any more. Thar's no use of yer sayin' any thin' agin it," 
 he said, as he raised up his hand toward one of the as- 
 sembly, who he supposed was about to remonstrate, ''for 
 I've fixed the hull matter. It's no knowin' what they'll 
 do next,- so they've got to go. The devil wants his due, 
 and it is about time they whar on the road to see the 
 chief of all secessionists." 
 
 " It is what they deserve !" ejaculated one of the party. 
 
 This sentiment was generally concurred in by the as- 
 sembly. The affairs of that part of the State were then 
 discussed, and it was considered that it would be of 
 great importance if communication could be kept up be- 
 tween the Union men in the mountains, and those who 
 yet remained at home. For the performance of this duty 
 they all agreed that Old Ben, from his thorough know- 
 ledge of that region., was peculiarly qualified. He at 
 once consented to act, but put in as a proviso, that he 
 was not to be deprived of the privilege of attending to 
 the case of Black Dave and his lieutenant. 
 
 In the meantime Black Dave, intent upon glutting his 
 vengeance, set his spies to work to discover the where- 
 abouts of the man whose homestead he had so ruthlessly 
 destroyed. A number of days passed, and the spies were 
 unable to give any satisfactory report, other than that 
 they thought he had gone to the mountains. At this 
 Black Dave's rage grew farious, and he swore that he 
 would seek revenge in another quarter. The fate he in- 
 tended for the father should be visited upon the son-in- 
 law, his successful rival, who was settled in a quiet spot 
 
68 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 some miles from Knoxville. Black Dave knew that liis 
 rival was suspected of being a Unipn man, and that was 
 a sufficient cloak for him in his design of villainy. 
 
 It was on a dark and gloomy night that Black Dave 
 got his band of ruffians together and set out on his work 
 of vandalism. We will not detain the reader with an 
 account of his progress along the road. Arriving at the 
 house, his summons was answered by a trembling black 
 servant, who, in answer to a furious demand for his mas- 
 ter, stammered out that he was not at home. The des- 
 perado's quick eye at once detected from the servant's 
 manner that he was endeavoring to conceal something, 
 and he immediately ordered his lieutenant to search the 
 house. This duty the lieutenant performed in a style 
 worthy of his leader. The wife, notwithstanding her 
 delicate health, was brutally told to point out where her 
 husband was hid, as they wanted to give him a rope ele- 
 vation. All feelings of humanity were set at naught, 
 and the search was made in the most brutal and reckless 
 manner. But it proved fruitless. The intended victim, 
 hearing the noise of the band as they approached, at once 
 suspected their object, and, at the solicitation of his wife, 
 consented to secrete himself, and succeeded in making 
 his escape. 
 
 Black Dave fairly foamed with rage when he heard 
 that he was again foiled — that his rival could not be 
 found. 
 
 " The sneaking cur is hid somewhere !" he exclaimed. 
 " But I'll smoke him and his brood out. Fire the house, 
 boys." ' 
 
 Even the entreaties of her whom he once professed to 
 love failed to stay the hand of the incendiary. Black 
 Dave was inexorable. The torch was applied, and soon 
 the flames began to creep along — slowly at first, as if 
 gathering strength, and then suddenly they darted up 
 their forked tongues and enveloped the whole building 
 in a fiery circle. The flames, reflected by the heavy at- 
 
OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 69 
 
 mospliere, shed a brilliant light over the surrounding 
 country. For a while Black Dave stood gazing upon 
 his work, while a sort of hellish malignity spread itself 
 over his features, totally unmoved by the cries of the 
 terror-stricken women and children. He then ordered 
 the servant whom he had first seen to be tied to a wheel 
 of a large wagon, and lashed until he revealed the where- 
 abouts of his master. For Black Dave to order was to 
 be obeyed, and the trembling black was immediately 
 seized, tied, and flogged. The blows fell fast and heavy, 
 but the faithful black, notwithstanding the blood 
 streamed down his back, refused to betray his master. 
 The ruffian who administered the blows paused for a 
 moment as if to take breath,, which his leader observing, 
 he shouted — 
 
 " Give the black dog another dose, and lay them on 
 lively I" 
 
 The words had scarcely fallen from his lips ere a bullet 
 whizzed past the negro and buried itself in the brain of 
 the ruffian leader, and he fell to the earth to rise no 
 more. He had given his last order. His lieutenant, 
 who stood near, sprang forward, and was in the act of 
 stooping to lift the prostrate form of his captain when 
 crash went another bullet through his brain, and he fell 
 upon the body of him who had been his companion in 
 villainy, and who was now his companion in death. The 
 ruffian who had administered the blows stood for a mo- 
 ment as if transfixed to the spot, and then, throwing 
 down the whip, he attempted to run, but had taken but 
 a few steps ere a swift- winged messenger sent him tra- 
 velling the same road with his leaders. Consternation 
 now seemed to seize the remainder of the ruffians, and 
 they took to their heels, many in their flight throwing 
 away their rifles, which were soon picked up by Old Ben 
 and his companions, and their contents sent after their 
 flying owners. 
 
 It was not long before the pale and terror-stricken wife 
 
10 OLD BEN, THE MOUNTAIN SCOUT. 
 
 was surrounded bj her husband and father. After an 
 affectionate embrace, the father, picking up a lighted 
 torch, approached the place where the bodies lay. 
 Stooping down to examine the leaders, he in a few 
 moments exclaimed — 
 
 " Dead ! — both of them 1 Old Ben hit both in nearly 
 the same spot !" 
 
 So it was. The father being anxious to see his daughter 
 and her mother, who since the destruction of the old 
 homestead had resided with her, was accompanied by Old 
 Ben and another companion for that purpose. As they 
 approached the farm they beheld the light from the 
 burning dwelling, at once rightly conjectured the cause, 
 and who was at work. They crept stealthily along, and 
 secreted themselves until a favorable opportunity should 
 afford them a chance of being of service. Old Ben in- 
 sisted that he alone should do the shooting, and that they 
 could do the loading, as no shots were to be wasted. As 
 he observed Black Dave and his lieutenant standing near 
 together, he exclaimed, in a low tone — 
 
 "Keerful! keerful, now! They ar' both mine !" And 
 creeping to a favorable spot, he discharged the shots 
 which finished the worldly career of the ruf&ans. 
 
 ^ Black Dave's rival, being secreted where he could 
 view what was going .on, seeing the ruffian leaders fall, 
 at once judged that friends were at hand, and he sprang 
 forward to render his aid in the destruction of the van- 
 dals. When it was ascertained that they were com- 
 pletely routed, arrangements were made for conveying 
 the family to a place of safety, and in the arrangements 
 the master did not forget his lacerated but faithful 
 gervant. 
 
 During the next fortnight several of Black Dave's fol- 
 lowers were found dead, and upon examination it was 
 discovered that each one had been shot in nearly the 
 same place in the forehead, and it was concluded that 
 they had all been killed by the same person. The con- 
 
ARMY WINGS AS EXPLAINED BY ONE OF THE BOYS. tl 
 
 elusion was correct, for Old Ben, in liis' scouting duties, 
 sent many a " buzzard," as he called those who preyed 
 upon the bones of Union men, to his final account. 
 
 SUREOUNDING FIVE OP THEM. 
 
 After the advance of the Union army upon Bragg at 
 Tullahoma, and his retreat, the Pioneer Brigade pushed 
 on to Elk Kiver to repair a bridge. While one of its 
 men, a private, was bathing in the river, five of Bragg's 
 soldiers, guns in hand, came to the bank and took aim at 
 the swimmer, one of them shouting — 
 
 " Come in here, you Yank, out of the wet !" 
 
 The Federal was quite sure that he was " done for," 
 and at once obeyed the order. After dressing himself, 
 he was thus accosted : — 
 
 " You surrender, our prisoner, do you ?" 
 
 " Yes ; of course I do." 
 
 " That's kind. Now we'll surrender to you !" • And the 
 five stacked arms before him, their spokesman adding — 
 
 " We've done with 'em, and have said to old Bragg, 
 ^ good-by !' Secesh is played out. Now you surround us 
 and take us into your camp." 
 
 This was done accordingly, and is but one of hundreds 
 of instances of wholesale desertion in July and August, 
 1863, in Lower Tennessee. 
 
 AKMY WINGS AS EXPLAIi^ED BY ONE OF THE BOYS. 
 
 " You say ' you can't understand about army wings, 
 they being crushed, falling back, &c.' Well, here it is, 
 in short. 
 
 "Suppose our army to be like a' bird at Stone Eiver, 
 head towards Murfreesborough, its body, Thomas's corps, 
 being the centre, McCook's corps the right wing, spread 
 
72 IRISH WIT EVER READY. 
 
 wide open, and Crittenden's corps, tbiis spread, the left 
 wing. That will do well enough for illustration. 
 
 "Well; Bragg's army pile in on McCook's wing at its 
 tip, and break off an inch or so by capturing batteries 
 and several hundred of our men. And the feathers fly 
 mightily all along that wing, and it is overpowered, and 
 falls back in retreat, just as the bird would fold its wing, 
 until it laps right up 'longside the centre. That's the 
 way it was done. 
 
 "But they didn't move our head nor centre, though — 
 nary! Well, the reb cavalry, of which they had a 
 powerful slue during this fight, came round on our rear 
 on the big Nashville road, where were our hundreds of 
 wagons and ambulances. There, we will* say, is the bird's 
 tail ; and the supply-wagons, and doctors' tools and 
 niggers, we'll call them the tail-feathers. Now, them 
 feathers flew some, you better believe !" , 
 
 lEISH WIT EYEE EEADY. 
 
 The surrender of Lexington, Mo., was rendered a ne- 
 cessity by the want of ammunition, as well as by the w^ant 
 of water. A few of the companies had one or two rounds 
 left, but the majority had fired their last bullet. After 
 the surrender, an officer was detailed by Price to collect 
 the ammunition and place it in safe charge. The of&cer, 
 addressing Adjutant Cosgrove, asked him to have the 
 ammunition surrendered. Cosgrove called up a dozen 
 men, one after the other, and exhibiting the empty cart- 
 ridge-boxes, said to the astonished rebel of&cer, " I believe, 
 sir, we gave you all the ammunition we had before we 
 had stopped fighting. Had there been any more, upon 
 my word, you should have had it, sir.^ But I will in- 
 quire, and if by accident there is a cartridge left, I will 
 let you know." The rebel officer turned away, reflecting 
 
MISS OLDOM, THE KENTUCKY HEROINEc 73 
 
 upon the glorious victory of having captured men who 
 had ;fired their last shot. 
 
 An Irishman from Battle Creek, Michigan, was at Bull 
 Eun battle, and was somewhat startled when the head of 
 his companion on the left hand was knocked off by a 
 caD non-ball. A few moments after, however, a spent ball 
 broke the fingers of his comrade on the other side. The 
 latter threw down his gun and yelled with pain, when 
 the Irishman rushed to him, exclaiming, '^ Blasht your 
 soul, you owld woman, shtop cryin' ; you make more 
 noise about it than the man that losht his head 1" 
 
 MISS OLDOM THE KENTUCKY HEROINE. 
 
 A marauding band of rebels in Kentucky, on their 
 Wiiy to Mount Sterling, stopped at the house of a Mr. 
 Oldom, and he being absent at the time, plundered him 
 of all his horses, and among them a valuable one belong- 
 ing to his daughter Cornelia. She resisted the outrage 
 as long as she could, but finding all her efforts in vain, 
 she sprang upon another horse .and started post haste 
 toward the town to give the alarm. Her first animal 
 gave out, when she seized another, and meeting the mes- 
 senger from Middleton, she sent him as fast as his horse 
 could carry him to convey the necessary warning to 
 Mount Sterling, where he arrived most opportunely. 
 Miss Oldom then retraced her way toward home, taking 
 with her a double-barrelled shot-gun. She found a pair 
 of saddle-bags on the road, belonging to a rebel officer, 
 ^which contained a pair of revolvers, and soon she came up 
 with the advancing marauders, and ordered them to halt. 
 Perceiving that one of the thieves rode her horse, she 
 ordered him to surrender her horse ; this he refused, and 
 finding that persuasion would not gain her ends, she 
 levelled the shot-gun at the rider, commanded him, as 
 Damon did the traveller, '^down from his horse." and 
 
74 FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 
 
 threatened to fire if he did not comply. Her indomitable 
 spirit at last prevailed, and the robbers, seeing something 
 in her eye that spoke a terrible menace; surrendered her 
 favorite steed. When she had regained his back, and 
 patted him on the neck, he gave a neigh of mingled 
 triumph and recognition, and she turned his head home- 
 ward and cantered off as leisurely as if she were taking 
 her morning exercise. 
 
 riaHTii^a on his owi^ hook. 
 
 » 
 
 When the martial and patriotic fires began to blaze 
 along the hill-tops of Western New York, and young 
 men were rushing by tens of thousands to join the na- 
 tional standard, one brave fellow who seized the torch 
 with the wildest enthusiasm, and wojked hardest in the 
 cause, found it impossible to get his name enrolled with 
 the company of his own town — Bloomfield. 
 
 All his companions passed examination. When the 
 surgeon came to B. F. Surby, he found that he had a 
 stiff knee, caused by the kick of a horse while he was a 
 boy ;. and he was rejected. 
 
 He could run as fast, mount a horse as quick, play as 
 good a game of ball, and shoot as well as any one of his 
 comrades — better, it was acknowledged, than most. He 
 was athletic, lithe, hard, spry, and made for action and 
 daring. He was twenty-five years old, and all ready to 
 fight. But, with all this, he could not go ; he was, how- 
 ever, determined to go, and no surgeon or recruiting of- 
 ficer could stop him. 
 
 When the company marched to Canandaigua, he went 
 with them to join the regiment. He put in his pocket 
 all the money he could scrape together, and paid his own 
 way as long as it lasted ; and when it gave out, partly 
 by the help of his companions, and partly by eking out 
 in mother-wit what he lacked in cash, he reached the 
 
FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. T5 
 
 head-quarters of General King, where his name not ap- 
 pearing on the roll; he was asked to give an account of 
 himself. 
 
 What follows is in his own words : — 
 
 " Once beyond the Potomac, I'd be blazed if I wouldn't 
 have a chance. So I tried the old Bloomfield game 
 over ; but it was no go : I cotild not put on the uniform 
 of a soldier ; I could not have a gun to kill rebels. But 
 I was bound to fetch it, some way or other. I finally 
 got my case before General King, and he got an officer 
 of his staff* to take me as his orderly : so I had my way 
 at last, and once in the army (if I did get in at the back 
 door) I could go along, and ride a good horse into the- 
 bargain. That finished the stiff knee business, which 
 had bothered the Bloomfield surgeon. So I thanked the 
 stars for my good luck, and' waited for the first battle. 
 
 " This was in a reconnoissance in force towards Orange 
 Court-House, where we had some nice amusement — ^just 
 enough to stir up the blood of green Western New York 
 boys. 
 
 "But nothing very serious happened till the battle of 
 South Mountain, which began to look like war as I had 
 read of it in the histories of great generals. Of course 
 you know all about that battle. 
 
 " But then came some bad luck. I'd been thinking all 
 the time that it was too good to last. The officer I Avas 
 serving got sick after the battle of Cedar Mountain, and 
 had to come on to Washington. Of course I had to come 
 too ; and here I remained waiting on him several weeks. 
 In the meantime I lost all chance to be in the battles of 
 Gainesville and Bull Kun. 
 
 "When my commander got better, but not well 
 enough to take the field, he sent me over to look after 
 his horses, and, knowing my anxiety to be with the bri- 
 gade, he gave me permission to join it, and the use of 
 his horse. 
 
 " I lost no time in doing that. I got in the staff again, 
 
76 " FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 
 
 and began to feel at home. General King had fallen sick^ 
 and was succeeded by General Hatch. We were in 
 the splendid battle of South Mountain, where I had one 
 of the great days, worth more than all my life before. Oh, 
 how glorious the old flag looked every time the smoke 
 rolled off, and we saw her still streaming ! 
 
 " In the heat of this bloody engagement, when our men 
 were fighting just 7'ight, the general was wounded, and, 
 being near him at the moment, I had the sad satisfaction 
 of helping to carry him from the field."' 
 
 *'But," I inquired, "as you seem to have been where 
 th^ shot flew thick, had vou not met with an\^ mishap so 
 far?" 
 
 " ISTary a scratch — nor the captain's horse." 
 
 " Well, what came next ?" 
 
 "The grand and blood-red field of Antietam, all of 
 which I saw ; and I never expect to see a better one — 
 nor do I want to. That was no boys' play." 
 
 At this point the surgeon of the hospital, where the 
 narrator lay, came up to see how his patient was getting 
 along. After examining his leg, he pronounced it doing 
 well enough. " That will give you no~ more trouble. 
 But I am inclined to think I shall have to take this arm 
 off." 
 
 "You are welcome to it, doctor. I think it has done 
 me about all the good it ever will." 
 
 " Well, now for Antietam," I said, as I once more took 
 a chair by Lis side. 
 
 "General Doubleday took command of us there, in 
 place of the wounded General Hatch. In forming his 
 division the night before the battle, while the general and 
 his staff' were riding along through the lines, a rebel bat- 
 tery opened on us with shot and shell. A soldier was 
 standing about two rods in front of me. A small shell 
 took his head clean^off) and struck my horse in the side, 
 just behind my leg, cutting the girths, and exploding inside 
 the horse. I only remember the fire flew pretty thick, 
 
FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. tt 
 
 and after in some way getting up into the air higlier than 
 I was before, I next found myself on the ground among 
 some of the pieces of the horse. 
 
 " The first thought was, '• There goes the captain's horse, 
 and I'm left to foot it !' A somewhat sudden falling back 
 took place, and I started. 'But, by Jove, I won't lose 
 that saddle !' and back I put to get it. While I was 
 working away as fast as I could, the general rode by, and 
 seeing^ what I was doino^ suns^ out — 
 
 " ' Quit that, fool, if you care anything about your life I' 
 and as I found it rather difiicult to untangle the sacfdle, 
 I concluded to leave with what traps I had, and return 
 after dark. I did ; but it was too late. 
 
 '^ I felt bad. ' What will the captain say ? I've lost 
 his horse and saddle, and God knows what. Well, I'll 
 see what I can do ; I haven't lost my small arms, at any 
 rate; and perhaps I can manage to get another horse 
 before the battle opens in the morning.' " 
 
 "ISTot hurt yourself?" 
 
 "Nary a bruise. But I was pretty well spattered up 
 with blood, I remember. So that night, after looking 
 round, and not getting my eye on a horse, I lay down 
 under a fence near our right wing, and thought I would 
 take a nap. But I cared more for a good horse than a 
 good sleep. As luck would have it, I heard, pretty soon, 
 some horses coming down pretty fast. They had evi- 
 dently broken loose. I sprung for the first one, and 
 missed him. The' next was a few rods behind. 'Now,' 
 says I to myself, ' is your last chance ;' and it was, for 
 there were only two. I struck for him; and caught him 
 by the bridle-rein. It was light enough to see, and I 
 soon found out I had got a good horse for the captain. I 
 brought him up to the fence and lay down, being pretty 
 well satisfied that what further running that animal did 
 that night he would have to do with me on his back." 
 
 " Whom did the horse belong to ?" 
 
 " He belonged to me." 
 
78 FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. 
 
 " Where did lie come from ?" 
 
 " Upon my soul, I forgot to inquire." 
 
 " The next morning all was astir, for a battle which had 
 yet no name. But everybody was well enough satisfied 
 that a great fight was coming. It was plain as sunrise 
 that there was to be a fight, and that every man in the 
 great Army of the Potomac knew it, and was ready to do 
 his duty. 
 
 ^' There was a different feeling among the men and 
 ofi&cers the night before, and that morning, from what I 
 had seen before any other battle. Each man knew that 
 defeat that day involved the fall of Washington. 
 
 " So passed that wonderful day. When I hitched up at 
 night, and got my blanket off' the saddle-bow and un- 
 rolled it to go to sleep, I found two Minie balls snugly 
 imbedded near the centre of the hard roll — ' Thank you, 
 gentlemen ; you fired a shade too low.' So I -came off' 
 safe enough there, and, when I did think of it, I made up 
 my mind I was not born to be shot." 
 
 "Your new horse behaved well?" 
 
 "Finely, and I got very much attached to him. But, 
 poor fellow ! I had* to kill him to save myself. I was 
 fond of* riding about inside our lines, and sometimes be- 
 yond them. I knew it was rather a risky business ; but 
 I did it, part of the time as a volunteer scout, and at 
 other times on my own hook, and Avas not very sorry for 
 it, for I now and then got information which may have 
 been worth something^. 
 
 "I generally managed to get along without any parti- 
 cular trouble, and with many a good run managed to get 
 home safe. But one night I got into a scrape. 
 
 " I knew that two or three mounted men were near the 
 enemy's picket-lines, and, thinking it might pay, I started 
 about midnight, and rode in a circuitous way to get near 
 enough to reconnoitre from a quarter where I should not 
 be suspected. I saw a very fine horse tied up to a tree, 
 and I wanted that horse. I came very near succeeding. 
 
FIGHTING ON HIS OWN HOOK. T9 
 
 But I was suddenly notified "by a ball whistling by my 
 head that I was discovered. I put out, and, finding my 
 horse, put spurs to him. Whistle, whizz, whizz, -whistle, 
 the balls flew by. It was a close pursuit, and a hard, long 
 run. I passed our lines safe. Bat it Avas too much. My 
 horse never was worth nmch after tli^t. I felt bad about 
 it, for the poor fellow had saved my life more than once. 
 But I had taken good care of him, and, after all, what did 
 it matter ? It was all in the cruise. 
 
 "Finally, the enemy was beforQ Fredericksburg. 
 During a part of that fight we were troubled by the 
 . enemy's sharp-shooters. They were picking off our ofS.- 
 cers and best artillerists from a very long range. I saw 
 how the thing was working, and I managed to get into 
 an old deserted house (in which Washington is said to 
 have spent some time when young) which could stand a 
 pretty heavy shot. 
 
 " I had a splendid rifle, and plenty of ammunition. It 
 was a fine cover, and I used it to some advantage. A large 
 open window looked out just in the direction I wanted, 
 and as fast as I loaded, I slyly took a look out, picked 
 my man, and blazed away. I did not stay at the window 
 any unnecessary length of time, for generally a bullet 
 came whistling through the hole a second or two after 
 my flash. 
 
 "Heavier shot at last began to strike; and then, 
 after I had fired, I slid round behind a solid stone chim- 
 ney standing near the centre of the house. I kept this 
 up for a considerable time, till an accident happened. 
 
 " As I was approaching the window for another fire, a 
 shell came through the side of the house, and burst about 
 three feet over my head. Down I went, of course, and 
 began to survey the damage. One piece had struck my 
 left arm, making a compound fracture below the elbow ; 
 another piece had struck my left leg, just above the 
 knee. 
 
 " I thought now, as I had done a pretty good day's 
 
80 FIGHTING ON HIS OW^ HOOK, 
 
 work, I would contrive in some way to Laul off for re- 
 pairs, and get among my friends. Some of the men at 
 a battery not far off had heard the shell explode in the- 
 house where they knew I was firing, and discovering me, 
 carried me off to the hospital quarters, where after a while 
 my arm was tinkered up in a hurry, my leg was dressed, 
 and I lay down and ate my supper, for I was as hungry 
 as a wolf. 
 
 *' ' Well, old boy,' said I to myself, ' you have had your 
 way : you determined to come to the war, and you did. 
 Now look at yourself, and see how you like it.' 
 
 "I did look at myself. I didn't look very handsome,. 
 it's true ; bat I looked well enough for all practical pur- 
 poses — and Ifelt still better. 
 
 "Being of no particular use down at Falmouth, they 
 sent me up here, where I arrived the other day. The 
 doctor down at Fredericksburg botched my fractures, 
 and between jolting about and one thing and another, I 
 must have the arm taken off now ; but, as my leg is nearly 
 well, I shall be about again, almost as good as new, in a 
 few days." ■ 
 
 The next morning, after inhaling ether, he was taken 
 into the amputating room, where his arm was taken off 
 three or four inches below the elbow, and dressed, when 
 Surby was returned to his cot. The attendants said he 
 was not out of bed over five minutes. 
 
 Of course he got on finely, and in a few days he was 
 walking around town to return the calls of friends who 
 had visited him in the hospital. 
 
 But what was he to do now ? His name did not appear 
 on the rolls of the army ; he had never been mustered 
 into the service ; in fact, the Government knew no such 
 man as a soldier. Generals King, Hatch, and Doublsday, 
 and a large number of officers besides, knew him, but 
 only as a volunteer independent scout. They knew the 
 deeds of valor, and the difficult and important services 
 
dahlgren's famous dash. , 81 
 
 he liad performed — services whicli if rendered by a private 
 regularly mustered into the army would have early given 
 him a commission. Now he was to leave the hospital, 
 with one arm the less, no money in his pocket, and only 
 the shoddiest style of clothes on his back, to get to his 
 home the best way he could. 
 
 He was certainly in a most anomaious position. But he 
 had friends enough — more than he. needed ; for he could 
 make his own way. 
 
 Some of his former commanders caused the facts to be 
 made known to the War Department ; and everything 
 that was right and proper was done, and with promptness, 
 fairness, and despatch. Surby was at once mustered into 
 his regiment, to take effect from the day his company 
 marched out of their native Bloomfield. This gave him 
 pay for the w^hole time, allowance for clothing he had 
 never drawn, one hundred dollars bounty money, a new 
 patent arm that looks just like its mate, an honorable 
 discharge from the Army of the United States, and an 
 annual pension of ninety-six dollars for life. 
 
 DAHLaEEN'S PAMOUS DASH. 
 
 \ Gen. Burnside requested Gen. Sigel to make a cavalry 
 
 ; reconnoissance of Fredericksburg. General Sigel se- 
 
 j lected his body-guard, commanded by Captain DahlgreU; 
 
 I with sixty men of the First Indiana cavalry and a portion 
 
 i of the Sixth Ohio. It was no light task to ride forty 
 
 1 nailes, keep the movement concealed from the enemy, 
 
 i cross the river and dash through the town, especially as 
 
 it was known the rebels occupied it in force ; it was an 
 
 enterprise calculated to dampen the ardor of most men, 
 
 but which was hailed almost as a holiday excursion by 
 
 the Indianians. They left Gainesville in the morning, took 
 
 a circuitous route, rode till night, rested awhile, and then, 
 
 6 
 
82 dahlgren's famous dash. 
 
 under tlie light of the full moon, rode rapidly over the 
 worn-out fields of the Old Dominion, through by-roads, 
 intending to dash into the town at day-break. They 
 arrived opposite the place at dawn, and found to their 
 chagrin that one element in their calculation had been 
 omitted — the tide. The bridge had been burned when 
 we evacuated the place last summer, and they had nothing 
 to do but wait till the water ebbed. Concealing them- 
 selves in the woods they waited impatiently. Meanwhile 
 two of the Indianians rode along the river-bank below 
 the town to the ferry. They hailed the ferryman who 
 was on the opposite shore, representing themselves to be 
 rebel officers. The ferryman pulled to the northern bank 
 and was detained till he gave information of the rebel 
 force, which he said numbered eight companies — five or 
 six hundred men all told. 
 
 The tide ebbed and Captain Dahlgren left his hiding- 
 place with the Indianians — sixty — leaving the Ohioans 
 on the northern shore. They crossed the river in single 
 file at a slow walk, the bottom being exceedingly rocky. 
 Eeaching the opposite shore, he started at a slow trot 
 toward the town, hoping to take the enemy by surprise. 
 But his advance had been discovered. The enemy was 
 partly in saddle. There was a hurrying to and fro — 
 mounting of steeds — confusion and fright among the 
 people. The rebel cavalry were in every street. Cap- 
 tain Dahlgren resolved to fall upon them like a thunder- 
 bolt. Increasing his trot to a gallop, the sixty dauntless 
 men dashed into town, cheering, with sabres glittering in 
 the sun — riding recklessly upon the enemy, who waited 
 but a moment in the main street, then ignominiously fled. 
 Having cleared the main thoroughfare. Captain Dahl- 
 gren swept through a cross-street upon another squadron 
 with the same success. There was a trampling of hoofs, 
 a clattering of scabbards, and the sharp ringing cut of 
 the sabres, the pistol-flash — the going down of horsemen 
 
A FIGHTING PARSON. 83 
 
 and rider — the gory gashes of the sabre-stroke — a cheer- 
 ing and hurrahing, and screaming of frightened women 
 and children — a short; sharp, decisive contest, and the 
 town was in the possession of the gallant men. Once the 
 rebels attempted to recover what they had lost, but a 
 second impetuous charge drove them back again, and 
 Captain Dahlgren gathered the fruits of the victory, 
 thirty-one prisoners, horses, accoutrements, sabres — held 
 possession of the town for three hours, and retired, losing 
 but one of his glorious band killed and two wounded, 
 leaving a dozen of the enemy killed and wounded. The 
 one brave fellow who lost his life had fought through all 
 the conflict, but seeing a large rebel flag waving from a 
 building, he secured it, wrapped it around his body, and 
 was returning to his command, when a fatal shot was 
 fired from a window, probably by a citizen. He was 
 brought to the northern shore and there buried by his 
 fellow-soldiers beneath the forest pines. Captain Carr, 
 of company B, encountered a rebel ofS.cer and ran his 
 sabre through the body of his enemy. Orderly Fitter 
 had a hand-to-hand struggle with a rebel soldier, and, by 
 a dexterous blow, struck him from his horse, inflicting 
 a severe wound upon the head. He seized the fellow's 
 horse — a splendid animal — his carbine and sabre. 
 
 It thrills one to picture the encounter — the wild dash, 
 the sweep like a whirlwind — the cheers — the rout of the 
 enemy, their confusion — the victory ! This will go down 
 to history as one of the bravest achievements on record. 
 
 A riGHTING PAESON. 
 
 Colonel Granville Moody, of the Seventy-fourth Ohio, 
 is a famous Methodist preacher from Cinciunati. He is 
 something over fifty, six feet and two or three inches, of 
 imposing presence, with a fine, genial face, and prodigious 
 vocal range. The reverend colonel, who proved himself 
 
84 A FIGHTING PARSON. 
 
 a fighting parson of tlie first water, was liit four times at 
 the "battle of Murfreesbo rough, and will carry the marks 
 of battle when he goes back to the altar. His benevo- 
 lence justifies his military flock in the indulgence of sly 
 humor at his expense ; but he never permits them to 
 disturb his equanimity. Several battle-anecdotes of him 
 are well authenticated. ISTot long ago, General ISTegley 
 merrily accused him of using heterodox expletives in the 
 ardor of conflict. 
 
 " Is it a fact, colonel,"' inquired the general, " that you 
 told the boys to ' give ^em hell ?'" 
 
 "How?" replied the colonel, reproachfully; "that's 
 some more of the boys' mischief. I told them to give 
 the rebels ' Hail Oolunibia ;' and they have perverted my 
 language." 
 
 The parson, however, had a sly twinkle in the corner 
 of his eye, which left his hearers in considerable doubt. 
 
 Our Western circuit-preachers are known as stentors. 
 Where others are emphatic, they roar in the fervor of ex- 
 hortation, especially when they come in with their huge 
 " Amen." This fact must be borne in mind to appreciate 
 the story. The colonel's mind was saturated with piety 
 and fight. H« had already had one bout with the rebels, 
 and given them " Hail Columbia." They were renewing 
 the attack. The colonel braced himself for the shock. 
 
 Seeing his line in fine order, he thought he would ex- 
 hort them briefly. The rebels were coming swiftly. 
 Glancing first at the foe, then at the lads, he said, quietly, 
 "Now, my boys, fight for your country and your God," 
 and, raising his voice to thunder-tones, he exclaimed, in 
 the same breath, " Aim lov7 1" 
 
 Says one of the gallant fellows, " I thought for an in- 
 stant it was a frenzied ejaculation from the profoundest 
 depths of the ' Amen corner.' " Any day now you may 
 hear the lads of the Seventy-fourth roaring, " Fight for 
 your country and your God — aim low 1" 
 
TOO MUCH FOR HER. 85 
 
 TAKING IT COOLLY. 
 
 An instance of endurance and patience occurred at the 
 hospital on the right wing, during the fighting at Fort 
 Donelson, Tenn. The Union columns having been forced 
 back, the hospital, which was a little up from the road, 
 had come within range of the rebels' fire, and was fast 
 becoming* an unpleasant position, but no damage was 
 done to it. Just about th^s time a poor fellow came 
 sauntering leisurely along, with the lower part of his arm 
 dangling from the part above the elbow, it having been 
 struck with a grape-shot. ' Meeting the surgeon in the 
 house, who was busily attending to other wounded, he 
 inquired how long it would be before he could attend to 
 him, and was told in a few minutes. " All right," said 
 the wounded man, and then walked outside and watched 
 the progress of the battle for a short time, and then re- 
 turned and waited the surgeon's opportunity to attend to 
 him. The arm was amputated without a murmur from 
 the unfortunate man. After the stump was bound up, 
 the young man put his good hand into his pocket, and 
 took out a piece of tobacco, from which he took a chew, 
 then walking over to the fire, he leaned his well arm against 
 the mantle-piece, and rested his head against his arm, 
 and kept squirting tobacco-juice into the fire, whilst his 
 eyes were cast into the flames, all with the most astonish- 
 ing composure, as though he was indulging in some 
 pleasant reverie. He remained in this position for some 
 time, and then walked ofi* and went out of sight near 
 where the fighting was going on. 
 
 TOO MUCH rOR SEE. 
 
 ^ A forage-train went out of Nashville, Tenn., upon one 
 occasion; and two or three of the Michigan soldiers 
 
86 A NAMELESS SPY. 
 
 guarding it called at a house for dinner. The woman, 
 ready to take their money and get their favor, at once 
 prepared it. While they were eating, she thought it a 
 favorable moment for conversation, and propounded the 
 usual question of Secessia : — 
 
 " What in the world did all you people come down 
 here to fight us for ?" 
 
 "The fact is, madam," quickly answered one of hel* 
 guests, dropping his knife and fork, leaning iDack in his 
 chair and looking her calmly in the face, " we understood 
 your folks were going to free all your negroes and send 
 them up Korth, and we don't want them and won't have 
 them. So we've come down here to put a stop to it." 
 
 The old lady was silenced by this spiking of her guns. 
 
 A NAMELESS SPY. 
 
 In 1862 there lived in the State of a Union man, 
 
 with wife and children. He was a friend of the Union, 
 and an anti-slavery man upon principle. After the re- 
 bellion broke out, and when the " Southern heart" had 
 become fired, this man, living in a strong pro-slavery re- 
 gion, and surrounded by opulent slaveholders, his own 
 family connections, and those of his wife being also wealthy 
 and bitter secessionists, very prudently held his peace, 
 feeling his utter inability to stem the tide of the rebellion 
 in his section. This reticence, together with his known 
 Southern birth and relations, enabled him to pass unsus- 
 pected, and almost unobserved, at a time when Brecken- 
 ridge, Marshall, Preston, and Buckner, and other ardent 
 politicians of Kentucky, chose the rebellion as their por- 
 tion, and endeavored to carry with them the State amidst 
 a blaze of excitement. Thus, without tacit admissions or 
 any direct action upon his part, the gentleman of whom 
 we write was classed by the people of his section as a 
 secessionist. 
 
A NAMELESS SPY. SI 
 
 Circumstances occurred during that year by whicli this 
 person was brought into contact with a Federal com- 
 mander in Kentucky, General Nelson. Their meeting and 
 acquaintance was accidental. Mutual Union sentiments 
 begat personal sympathy and friendship. Nelson wished 
 a certain service performed in the rebel territory, and he 
 persuaded the citizen to undertake it — which the latter 
 finally did as a matter of duty, we are assured, rather 
 than of gain, for he made no charge for the service after 
 its speedy and successful performance. Soon after, a sim- 
 ilar work was necessary ; and again was the citizen im- 
 portuned, and he again consented, but not considering 
 himself as a professional spy. 
 
 During this or a similar trip, and while at Chatta- 
 nooga, our man heard of the sudden death of General 
 Nelson. He was now at a loss what to do. Finally he 
 determined to return and report his business to Major 
 General Eosecrans, who had assumed command of the 
 Federal army. Thus resolved, he proceeded to finish his 
 mission. After ascertaining the position of military affairs 
 at Chattanooga, he came to Murfreesborough, where 
 Bragg's army was then collecting. Staying here several 
 days, he was urged by his Southern army friends to act as 
 their spy in Kentucky. The better to conceal his own feel- 
 ings and position, he consented to do so, and he le'ft General 
 Bragg's head-quarters to go to that State by way of Nash- 
 ville, feigning important business, and from thence to go 
 to his home, passing by and through Eosecran's army as 
 it lay stretched out between Nashville and Louisville. 
 
 The nameless man now makes his way to the Federal 
 head- quarters, seeks a private interview with General 
 Eosecrans, and states his case fijlly as we have just related. 
 Here was something remarkable, surely — a spy in the con- 
 fidence of the commanders of two great opposing armies ! 
 Our general took much pains to satisfy himself of the 
 honesty and soundness of the stranger. He was pleased 
 with the man's candid manner, and his story bore an air 
 
88 A NAMELESS SPY. 
 
 of consistency and truth. Yet^ "he was a Soutlierner, 
 surrounded bj rebellious influences, and enjoyed Bragg's 
 confidence ; and what guarantee could be given that he 
 was a Union man at heart ? None ; and our general, in 
 great perplexity, held council with his Chief of Police, 
 and requested the latter to " dig up" the case to its very 
 root. This was done, but in what manner we need not 
 specially state. Satisfied that it would do to trust the 
 spy, to a certain extent at least, he was now sent on his 
 way to perform his mission for Bragg. At all events, 
 that scheming general so supposed, when our man's re- 
 port was made at the rebel head-quarters a few days 
 afterwards. His information was very acceptable to 
 Bragg ; but we strongly question its value to rebeldom, 
 as the spy reported only what he was told by that old fox 
 Colonel Truesdail. 
 
 Perhaps the reader will inquire, how can we answer 
 for the report thus made to Bragg ? it may have been 
 more true and valuable than we supposed. Well, there 
 is force in the query. We are fallen upon strange times, 
 when honesty, virtue, and patriotism are at heavy dis- 
 count in rebeldom, and the Indian's idea of the uncertainty 
 of white men is by no means a myth. However, we Avere 
 then quite confident of the worthlessness of the report of 
 our spy to Bragg, because he had nothing else to tell him. 
 For five daj^s did our spy keep himself locked in a private 
 room -in the police building at Nashville. His meals 
 were carried to him by a trusty servant. His door was 
 "shadowed" constantly by our best detectives, and so 
 were his steps if he ventured upon the street for a few 
 moraents after dark. It was cold and bleak winter weather, 
 and he toasted himself before his comfortable fire, read 
 books and papers, and conferred often with the Chief of 
 Police and his assistant, affording them, strangers that 
 they were to that region of country, a fund of valuable 
 information respecting the rebels of Kentucky and Ten- 
 nessee. He was a man of fine address and good intel- 
 
A NAMELESS SPY. ^ 89 
 
 lectual attainments. When our man concluded it was 
 about time for his return to Bragg's armj, he was po- 
 litely escorted by our mounted police to a proper point 
 beyond our lines, and by a route where he would se'fe 
 nothing of our forces. The reader will now appreciate 
 the grounds of our confidence, we doubt not, in the worth- 
 lessness at least of one of General Braxton Bragg's spy 
 reports. 
 
 In due time this ^nameless gentleman again enters our 
 lines, and is escorted in by our pickets to the general 
 commanding, to whom he reports in person concerning 
 all that is transpiring in Bragg's army at Murfreesborough, 
 and then he resumes his pleasant private quarters at the 
 army police building. How little could the rebel Gen- 
 eral Zollicoffer have thought or have imagined as the 
 wildest dream, while building his elegant house in High 
 Street, Nashville, that its gorgeous rooms should ever be 
 devoted to such purposes I After a brief stay, another 
 trip was made by our man to Bragg's head-quarters, we 
 using the same precautions as previously. In fact, our 
 spy desired, and even demanded such attention at the 
 hands of the Chief of Police. Said he — 
 
 " I am a stranger to you all. I can give you no guar- 
 antee whatever of my good faith. It is alike due to you 
 and to myself that I be allowed no opportunities for 
 deceiving you." 
 
 The report he carried to Bragg on his second trip de- 
 lighted the latter. His of&cers talked with our man freely, 
 and, after staying at Murfreesborough two or three days 
 and riding and walking all about in the most innocent 
 and unconcerned manner, he was again sen^ back to 
 Nashville to "fool that slow Dutchman, Eosecrans," as 
 one of the rebel officers remarked. Of the importance 
 of the report now brought to the " slow Dutchman " we 
 need not state further than that it contributed its due 
 weight to a decision fraught with, tremendous conse- 
 quences to the army find to the country. Marching orders 
 
90 A NAMELESS SPY. 
 
 were soon after issued for the advance of the Army of 
 the Cumberland upon Murfreesborough. 
 
 Now commenced a period of excessive labor and -peril 
 for the nameless spy. Generals Eosecrans and Bragg 
 each wanted instant and constant information as the 
 armies approached. The minutiae of this man's work for 
 four or five days we need not stop to relate : it is easily 
 imagined. Within that time he entered the rebel lines 
 and returned three times. He gave the outline of Bragg's 
 line of battle, a close estimate of his force, an accurate 
 account of his artillery and his earthworks, the move- 
 ments of the rebel wagon and railroad trains, &c. &c. 
 He was very earnest in assuring Eosecrans that Bragg 
 intended to give severe battle with superior numbers. 
 
 This information proved true in all essentials, and its 
 value to the country was inestimable. We had other 
 spies piercing the rebel lines at this time, but they did 
 not enjoy the facilities possessed by the nameless one. 
 Almost with anguish did he exclaim against himself, in 
 the presence of the author, for the severe manner in 
 which he was deceiving the rebel general and involving 
 the lives of his thousands of brave but deluded followers. 
 
 After the first great battle the work of such a spy is 
 ended, or, rather, it ceases when the shock of arms comes 
 on. Thenceforth the armies are moved upon the instant, 
 as circumstances may require. Our man, who during 
 the four days had been almost incessantly in the saddle, 
 or with his ears and eyes painfully observant while in 
 the camps, took leave of our army upon the battle-field, 
 and retired to a place of rest. 
 
 One incident occurred during his last visit to Bragg 
 which is worthy of mention. That general took alarm 
 in consequence of his report, and at once started a special 
 messenger to Gen. John H. Morgan — who was the'n absent 
 with his cavalry in Kentucky to destroy Eosecrans' rail- 
 road communications (in which Morgan succeeded) — to 
 return instantly with his command by forced marches to 
 
A NAMELESS SPY. 91 
 
 Murfreesb'orough. That same night our man reported 
 this fact to the Federal commander; described the mes- 
 senger and what route he would take, &c. The informa- 
 tion was telegraphed at once to Kashville, Gallatin, and 
 Bowling Green, and a force was sent from each of those 
 posts to intercept the messenger. They failed to appre^ 
 hend him — which, however, proved of no consequence, 
 as the battles of Stone Eiver were fought and Bragg was 
 on his retreat from Murfreesborough by the time Morgan 
 could have received the orders. 
 
 Our spy was a brave man : yet during the last three 
 days of his service he was most sensible of its peril. To 
 pass between hostile lines in the lone hours of the night 
 — for he did not wait for daylight — to be halted by guer- 
 rillas and scouts and pickets, with guns aimed at him, 
 and, finally, to meet and satisfy the anxious, keen-eyed, 
 heart-searching rebel of&cers as well as our own, was a 
 mental as well as physical demand that could not long 
 be sustained. While proceeding upon his last expedi- 
 tion, the author met the nameless one upon a by-road. 
 We halted our horses, drew near, and conversed a few 
 seconds in private, while our attendants and companions 
 moved on. He was greatly exhausted and soiled in 
 appearance — his clothing having been rained upon and 
 splashed by muddy water, caused by hard riding, and 
 which had dried upon him. He said he was about to 
 try it once more, and, though he had been so often 
 and so successfully, yet he feared detection and ' its sure 
 result, the bullet or the halter. He had been unable, 
 amid the hurry and excitement, to make some final dis- 
 position of his affairs. He gave us a last message to 
 send to his wife and children in case it became necessary ; 
 and he also desired a promise — most freely given — that 
 we woul9. attend to the settlement of his account with 
 our general for services recently rendered. Thus con- 
 cluding, he wrung our hand most earnestly, and putting 
 spurs to his fresh and spirited animal, dashed off upon 
 
92 A DARING DEED. 
 
 his mission. Twenty hours afterwards we were relieved 
 of our anxious forebodings by Lis safe and successful 
 return. The price paid him for his labors was well 
 earned; and to our cause was a most profitable invest- 
 ment. 
 
 A DAEING DEED. 
 
 Captain Spencer, aid to General Wool, received infor- 
 mation from two ladies who went from Norfolk to Fort- 
 ress Monroe with a flag of truce, that near midnight a 
 six-oared boat was to leave Norfolk for Eichmond with 
 money for the payment of rebel soldiers. He requested 
 permission of Major-General Wool to attempt their cap- 
 ture, and was told not to place too much confidence in 
 the information received. Nevertheless, permission was 
 given, and selecting two good oarsmen on whom he could 
 rely, with their oars mufiled, he started at dark and 
 awaited the coming of the enemy's boat. He had pre- 
 viously given direction to his men to pull directly for 
 the boat, and on the moment of striking to " back water" 
 instantly. 
 
 About midnight the boat was heard approaching, and 
 taking his station in the bows with a nine-inch shell in 
 his hands, he gave the order to " give way." The moment 
 his bows struck the rebel boat, he threw the shell into 
 the middle of it, and was himself drawn back, luckily 
 receiving no injury from the explosion. Not so the boat 
 and occupants, however, the former of which was broken 
 in two, and the latter were scattered in all directions in 
 the water, not, however, before discharging their pistols 
 at him, two balls going through his cap, and three per- 
 forating his coat. 
 
 The men were then told that if they submitted quietly 
 they would be saved, otherwise he would leave them to 
 their fate. They preferred the former, and arming him- 
 
^HE IRISH SENTINEL. 93 
 
 self with his pistol in one hand, and a dirk (taken by him 
 at the Battle of Ball Ean from a "secesh") in the other, 
 he took them in his boat one by one, handcuf&ng them 
 as they were pulled in. In addition to which, from the 
 stern of the enemy's boat, which floated, he took eleven 
 hundred dollars in gold, and five thousand dollars in their 
 worthless paper money. It was with some difficulty that 
 he reached the Fort, the gunwale of the boat being almost 
 level with the water with its increased freight. 
 
 WOULDN'T SELL. 
 
 ^During the fighting at Fort Donelson a young man 
 came strolling down to a transport, with one arm ampu- 
 tated, .and in the well hand holding three chickens which 
 he had captured. A steward of one of the boats stepped 
 up to him, and asked him if he wanted to sell the chickens. 
 He looked at the chickens for a little while and replied, 
 " Well, no ; I had so much trouble in catching the d — d 
 things, I believe I'll eat 'em myself;" and off he went 
 with his fowl prisoners. 
 
 THE lEISH SENTINEL. 
 
 A son of the Green Isle, a member of Gillam's Mid- 
 dle Tennessee Regiment, while stationed at Nashville, 
 was detailed on guard duty on a prominent street of that 
 city. It was his first experience at guard mounting, and 
 he strutted along his beat, apparently with a full appre- 
 ciation of the dignity and importance^ of his position. 
 As a citizen approached, he shouted — • 
 
 " Halt ! Who comes there ?" 
 
 '' A citizen," was the response. 
 
 " Advance, citizen, a»nd give the countersign." 
 
94 THE HOLLOW-HEELED B©OT. 
 
 " I haven't the countersign ; and, if I had, the demand 
 for it at this time and place is something very strange and 
 unusual," rejoined the citizen. 
 
 " An' by the howly Moses, ye don't pass this way at 
 all till ye say Banker Hill," was Pat's reply. 
 
 The citizen, appreciating the. "situation," advanced^ 
 and cautiously whispered in his ear the necessary words. 
 
 "Eight ! Pass on." And the wide-awake sentinel re- 
 sumed his beat. 
 
 GOOD POS THE BELGIANS! 
 
 A good story is told of an Illinois Colonel who was 
 heard praising the Belgian musket. Says he — " In pla- 
 toon firing with the Belgian musket, I can tell what I 
 cannot with any other arm, and that is, how many pieces 
 have been fired." 
 
 " How can you tell that ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I count the men on the ground. It never deceives 
 me. It is 'fire and/aZ? hach^ flat^ 
 
 One of these Belgian muskets will kick like a mule, 
 and burst with the greatest facility. Several soldiers 
 have been killed in this way. The bayonet too is a no- 
 velty — a soft iron affair, apparently designed to coil round 
 the enemy as it is introduced, thus taking him prisoner. 
 
 THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 
 
 In the earlier days of the rebellion there lived in South- 
 ? eastern Missouri one Ogil vie Byron Young. He was a 
 wild, graceless scamp, rich in the blood of his ancestors, 
 but ;poor in purse. To the pride of Lucifer he added the 
 courage of •Falstafif and the honor of lago. A scion of 
 Virginia's aristocracy, he deemed himself a statesman 
 from birth and an orator by natui:e. Showy in manner 
 
THE HOLLGW-HEELED BOOT. 95 
 
 and superficial in attainments, lie could act tlie accom- 
 plished gentleman or the bullying braggart as best suited 
 Ihe occasion. Yain, reckless, and boastful, lie was scorned 
 as a visionary enthusiast by some, feared as a bold, bad 
 man by others, but admired as a genuine Southern cava- 
 lier of the old school by those who knew liim least. 
 Wildly imaginative, but immensely unpractical, he 
 plunged madly into tbe first waves of rebellion, and, 
 while Sterling Price was yet a Union general and Clai- 
 borne F. Jackson a loyal Governor, dared to avow and 
 advocate opinions of the most ultra- Southern cbaracter. 
 Fine-drawn theoretical arguments on the right and duty 
 of secession were spread before the people of the State, 
 in column after column of letters published in newspapers 
 and to which was attached the full signature, " Ogilvie 
 Byron Young." The rough, back- woodsmen of his county 
 were momentarily swayed by his presumptuous clamor, 
 and he was sent to the first Missouri State Convention. 
 Here he was the only member that took strong ground 
 in favor of secession per se, gaining thereby not a little 
 notoriety. The State did not secede ; but Ogilvie Byron 
 Young did, and for some months be was not so much as 
 heard from. 
 
 In the fall of 1861 be was arrested at the Spencer 
 
 ' House, Cincinnati, as a spy. In due time an indictmeut 
 
 and trial followed ; but, though there was abundant evi- 
 
 I dence of guilt, he escaped conviction by means of some 
 
 I technical informality in the proceedings. He was ordered 
 
 I to leave the city, however, and did so. In the following 
 
 \ spring he was found in Covington, Kentucky, under an 
 
 I assumed name, aiding and abetting the rebels by furnish- 
 
 1 ing information, and was again arrested. He had been 
 
 cautioned by some one, it would seem; for there was 
 
 found nothing upon him in tbe way of papers or letters 
 
 I to warrant his detention, and he was again released to 
 
 again disappear from sight for some months. 
 
 In November, 1862, lie is again met with, in Nashville, 
 
96 THE HOLLOW-HEELED BOOT. 
 
 where he had been for some weeks as a paroled prisoner, 
 but acting all the while in his old capacity of smuggler 
 and spy. In this business he seems to have had remark- 
 able success, until his career was fortunately arrested by 
 a combination of circumstances and the watchful shrewd- 
 ness of the army police. About the last of that montK 
 Young was introduced to a gentleman who represented 
 himself as a hostage for the return of certain loyal Missis- 
 sippians captured at luka and treated by Price as traitors, 
 contrary to the terms (5f the cartel between the Federal 
 and Confederate Governments. At first he was shy and 
 suspicious, but was finally convinced that his new 
 acquaintance was really what he purported to be, and 
 .heartily entered into all his plans for the advancement 
 of the Confederate cause. As his confidence grew stronger, 
 he remarked that he had been of more benefit to the 
 South, as a spy, than any brigade of rebel soldiers. He 
 had encouraged desertions in the Federal camps, and made 
 out paroles in the names of Morgan and Kir by Smith. 
 The business was getting a little dangerous now, however, 
 and he should get beyond the lines as soon as possible. 
 He would have gone long ago, only that he had expected 
 to be saved the ti^ouble and expense of the trip by the 
 fall of Nashville. 
 
 Our luka hostage then informed him that Mrs. Major 
 Banney — wife of Major Eanney, of the 6th Texas Eegi- 
 ment — was in the city, under his charge, and just returned 
 from Europe, whither she had been on diplomatic busi- 
 ness for the Confederate Government. She had in her 
 possession very important despatches, and was anxious 
 to get safely through the lines with them. Young said, 
 in reply, that he would bring his influence to bear upon 
 the army officials in her favor, but in case she should be 
 searched it would be well to provide for such a contin- 
 gency. There was, he said, in the city a man by the 
 name of Thompson, ostensibly a citizen, but really a rebel 
 lieutenant in Bragg's army, and now acting as a spy. 
 
THE HOLLOW- HEELED BOOT. 9t 
 
 lie had maclQ the trip tlirougli the lines ten or twelve 
 times, and could do it again. He wag now engaged in 
 drawing a map of the fortifications around Nashville and 
 procuring information as tor the numbers of the troops, 
 &c., which should be forthcoming in due season. These 
 secret despatches of Mrs, Eannej's together with this 
 map and other papers, could be hidden in the heel of a 
 boot, which would be made for them by a bootmaker of 
 the city in the employ of the Confederate Government. 
 His name was C. J. Zeutzschell, and his shop was on 
 I Union Street. 
 
 This plan was agreed to, and Young waB to assist in 
 the execution of it ; in return for which, he was to be 
 placed in a high position at Eichmond. Young's reputa- 
 tion, however, was not of the best, and the bootmaker 
 \ would do nothing for him, when called upon, without 
 j first making inquiries among his friends and consulting 
 I with our hostage, for whom the boots were wanted. 
 ( Accordingly, Zeutzschell came to his room one evening 
 I and said that Young had been to his house and wished 
 \ him to make a pair of boots and to secrete important 
 I documents in them so as to defy detection. He had no 
 I confidence in Young's honor, and did. not wish to do it 
 I for him. He knew him as identified with the Confed- 
 erates, indeed, but he was a bad man, low in his habits 
 and associates, never had any mone}^, &c. He (Zeutzschell) 
 had been inquiring of the f7-iends of the South — undoubted 
 secessionists — concerning liim (our luka hostage), and 
 was convinced that he was a gentleman and a true 
 Southerner. He would do anything to promote the cause 
 -^money was no object — he Avould lay down his life for 
 it. If Young could be thrown off the track, he would 
 make the boots and secrete in them a map of the fortifi- 
 cations about Nashville. His brother-in-law, Harris, 
 would go out and see if any new ones had been erected. 
 If not, he had a perfect plan of them in his head, to prove 
 which he immediately sat down and drafted one. He 
 7 
 
98 PRESENCE OF MIND. 
 
 remarked that lie liad recently sent seTeral sucli to 
 General Morgan. ^ He liad made tlie boots for all tlie 
 spies in the same way, and n^t one had ever been detected. 
 He had sent valuable information in a common pipe. 
 
 " Can you get a pass for your man ?" asked our hostage. 
 
 " Certainly," was the reply ; " as matiy as you like. There 
 is a German at head-quarters who steals blank passes for 
 me, and I fill them up myself. I give him whiskey for 
 them." 
 
 He would like to go South too, he said, in conclusion. 
 He could describe the fortifications so much better than 
 in a map. 
 
 Both parties being satisfied, an agreement for the boots 
 was made. Zeutzschell was to get the exact distances 
 of the defences, the number and disposition of the troops, 
 &c., and secrete them, together with Mrs. Kanney's 
 despatches, in the heel of one of the boots. This he did, 
 according to promise : the boots were made and delivered 
 on the evening appointed. Instead of reaching Generals 
 Bragg and Morgan, as intended, however, the maps, 
 papers, boots, owner, maker, and spy, suddenly found 
 themselves in the hands of the army police, much to the 
 astonishment and bhagrin of all parties concerned. Zeutz- 
 schell and Young were sent to the military prison at 
 Alton. 
 
 PEESENOE OP MIND. 
 
 The account given by Capt. Strong, of the Second Wis- 
 consin Kegiment, of his escape from rebel captors, will 
 be read with interest. . It is as follows : — 
 
 As I was passing through a thicket, I was surrounded 
 by six, rebel soldiers — four infantry and two cavalry. The 
 footmen were poorly dressed and badly armed, having 
 old rusty altered muskets. The cavalry were well 
 mounted and well armed. 
 
PRESENCE OP MIND. 99 
 
 Seeing I was cangH I thonglit it best to surrender at 
 once. So I said — " Gentlemen, you have me." 
 
 I was asked various questions as to wlio I was, where 
 I was going, what regiment I belonged to, &c., all of* 
 which I refused to answer. 
 
 One of the footmen said — " Let's' hang the d — d Yankee 
 scoundrel," and pointed to a convenient limb. 
 
 Another said, "No, let's take him to camp and hang 
 him there." 
 
 One of the cavalry, who seemed to be the leader, said, 
 " We will take him to camp." 
 
 They then marched me through an open place — two 
 footmen in front, two in the rear, and a cavalry man on 
 each side of me. I was armed with two revolvers and 
 my sword. After going some twenty rods, the sergeant, 
 who was on my right, 'noticing my pistols, commanded 
 me to halt and give them up, together with my sword. 
 
 I said, " Certainly, gentlemen," and immediately halted. 
 As I stopped, they all filed past me, and, of course were 
 in front. 
 
 We were at this time in an open part of the woc£s, 
 but about sixty yards to the rear was a thicket of under- 
 growth. Thus everything was in my favor. I was quick 
 of foot- and a passable shot. Yet the design of escape 
 was not formed until I brought my pistol pouches to the 
 front part of my body, and my hands touched the stocks. 
 The grasping of the pistols suggested my cocking them 
 as I drew them out. This I did, and the moment I got 
 command of them I shot down the two footmen^ nearest 
 me — about six feet off — one with each hand. I immedi- 
 ately turned and ran toward the thiclfet in the rear. 
 
 The confusion of my captors was apparently so great 
 that I had nearly reached cover before shots were fired 
 at me. One ball passed through my left cheek, passing 
 out of my mouth. A*nother one — a musket ball — went 
 through my canteen. 
 
 Immediately upon this volley, the two cavalry sepa- 
 
100 AN INGENIOUS DODGE. 
 
 rated, one to my right, and tlie other to my left, to cut 
 off my retreat — tlie remaining two footmen charging 
 directly toward me. I turned when the horsemen got 
 up, and fired three or four shots ; but the balls flew wild. ' 
 I still ran on — got over a small knoll, and had nearly 
 regained one of pur pickets, when I was headed off by 
 both of the mounted men. 
 
 AN INGENIOUS DODGE. 
 
 Upon one occasion, when Eosecrans had " shut down" 
 •upon passes for officers' and soldiers' wives, a member of 
 the former class telegraphed from Louisville to General 
 Oarfield, Chief of Staff, that her husband, an artillery 
 officer, was very sick — perhaps dying — and that she must 
 see him, and requested the general to authorize the issuing 
 to her of a pass to Murfreesborough. The general's heart 
 was touched ; but knowing nothing of the matter, he re- 
 lerred it to Col. Barnett, Chief of Artillery. The colonel, 
 too, sympathized with the distressed wife, and kindly 
 ^ent an orderly out to the husband's battery to inquire 
 mto his condition, that the devoted wife might be advised 
 chereof. Speedily the husband himself came in, with as- 
 tonishment depicted in his face. Something's the matter, 
 somewhere or somehow, he doesn't exactly know what. 
 
 " How do you do ?" asks the artillery chief. 
 
 ''First-rate, sir." 
 
 " Where have you been of late ?" 
 
 " At my battery — on duty." 
 
 " Have you not been sick lately ?" 
 
 '^ 'No, indeed ! Never had better health in my life." 
 
 " Quite sure of it, are you ?" 
 
 '' Of course I am." 
 
 " You have been on duty all the time ? Haven't you 
 been absent from your command at all ?" 
 
 " Not a day." 
 
"OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. , 101 
 
 " Perfectly well now — no consumption, liver-complaint, 
 fever, spleen, or Tennessee quickstep ? eh ?" 
 
 " Certainly not. Why do you ask ?" 
 
 In reply to this query the telegram of his anxious wife 
 was handed to him. He read it, looked down and pon- 
 dered for a moment in silent v^onder at the ingenuity of 
 woman, then called for a bottle of wine, and a general 
 " smile" 'circulated among the bystanders. The loving 
 wife was informed by telegraph that her husband was 
 in no danger — in fact, was doing remarkably well. Thus 
 she was circumvented for a time.. Yet to " vindicate the 
 truth of history," we must add that she gained her point 
 in some other way — wjiat Yankee wife will not ? — and 
 made her visit successfully. 
 
 "OLD GAP," OP TENIfESSEE. 
 
 We arc just below the Virginia State line in Eastern 
 Tennessee, exactly where the two States touch like'a pair 
 of wedges, each pressing against the other. 
 
 The time is early March, and the party, seven hardy, 
 hard-fisted, and partially armed men, seated about a camp 
 fire. 
 
 There is nothing marked in the faces or persons of six 
 of the party, but the seventh is a human speciality and 
 will bear description. 
 
 John Davis stood " six foot four withcKit boots," accord- 
 ing to his own declaration. At the time of our notice, 
 not less than seventy winters had passed over his head, 
 whitening his hair and bending his form somewhat, but 
 putting no dimness in his eye, nor yet taking any strength 
 from his hand. The father of John Davis had been one 
 of the early emigrants from North Carolina, and in the 
 very heart of the wilderness of East Tennessee the boy 
 had been cradled and reached maturity. It was the boast 
 of John that his father was the first white man that had 
 
102 ''OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 
 
 passed tlirougli Cumberland Gap, and sO firmly did the 
 old woodsman look npon this as a distinction, that when 
 the title of " Cumberland Gap " was bestowed upon him 
 and used instead of his own name, John felt honored in 
 the bestowal. In time this became shortened to " Gap," 
 and in further time, when age crept on, " Old Gap " was 
 as well known through all the section as the spot from 
 whence the sobriquet was derived. 
 
 " A-a-a-ow !" stretched one of the men with a long yawn. 
 " The boys are a long time comin' in. Eeckon they must 
 be pickin' up suthin'." 
 
 " D'know what they kin pick up out o' that God-for- 
 saken place," responded anotheiL 
 
 " Wish to thunder they'd pick up a little whiskey," 
 was the sullen remark of a third, " my throat's as dry as 
 stubble for a drink, an nuthin' but water." 
 
 " What did Gord. Hopper say to you. Smith ?" asked 
 the old man of the one who spoke last. 
 
 " Say ! why he said if we'd lay over for to-day in this 
 'ere hollow, he'd be in afore night and. fetch us what we 
 wanted. Now I d'know whether he reckons on what we 
 Avant or no, but if he fetches all I want he'll be right 
 smart." 
 
 " Did he say he'd fetch down any more of the boys ?" 
 was the old man's question. 
 
 " Yes, s-i-r,*!hat's the main pint. He's gwine to bring 
 down all the boys to Jonesville that'll come, and maybe 
 some that'll not c©me, too." 
 
 The old man made no response to this, only to look 
 long and earnestly at the speaker, as though to solve the 
 meaning of every word uttered. He turned quickly to 
 the other men and spoke — 
 
 " Wal, boys, if I'm to be captain, then I say that we'll 
 get out of this at daylight to-morrow morning, no matter 
 whether Gord. Hopper comes or no.* Is that so, boys?" 
 
 A hearty " Yes," from all hands told the old man that 
 he had spoken according to their wishes, when at the yQYj 
 
 • I 
 
"OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 103 
 
 moment of utterance a long sliout was heard from t'he 
 distance, and every man was on his feet in an instant. 
 
 " That's Gord. Hopper's voice," said one of the party. 
 
 " Gord. Hopper be blowed," answered another, 
 
 "he never opened his jaws as naturally as that since he 
 was born." 
 
 ."You Jake," s?lid the old man, "run up to the edge o^ 
 the hill and see if ye kin look down t'wards the river. 
 If all's right come back ; if thar's anything wrong, shoot 
 offyer iron an' run down towards Clinton, and we'll jine 
 ye afore ye get thar." 
 
 The man was away in a moment, while the rest of the 
 party listened earnestly. In a very few minutes Jake 
 was seen coming back swinging his rifle lazily and 
 whistling. 
 
 " Gord. Hopper and some other fellers, and a woman," 
 was his answer to the inquiring looks, as he took his seat 
 by the camp fire. 
 
 •"A woman!" was Old Gap's questioning exclamation 
 as he turned in the direction the party was coming ; but 
 before there was an explanation they were seen winding 
 around the hill, and in a moment more were in camp. 
 They were six — five men and a woman —the last mounted 
 on a sorry jade of a horse, and sharing the room upon 
 his back with a well-filled bag, slung pannier-fashion with 
 a 10-gallon keg. The old man styod aloof as the party 
 filed in, and, leaning on his rifle, listened with a lowering 
 brow to the greetings and jibes that passed between his 
 men and the new-comers. 
 
 "Why Gord.," said he whom we have called Smith, 
 "what in thunder did you want to fetch Jim Blunt's 
 da'ter along for ? Couldn't ye go down ta Dixie for a 
 spell without yer gal? An' that 'ere suckin' brother of 
 hers, too; ye can't make Secesh o' him — anyhow, tain't 
 in the blood. The old man's half abolitioner, an' I guess 
 the gal an' boy ain't much better." 
 
 " That's none o' your business," drawled out Hopper, 
 
104 "old GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 
 
 sullenly ; " I brouglit 'em along because I want to keep 
 'em under my eye. I ain't listed yet, Zack Smith, an' 
 I don't mean to Jet anybody tell me what to do until I 
 have." 
 
 " Wal, there now, therejs no use getting mad 'bout it ; 
 but you see, Gord., everybody knows *that you've been 
 sweet on Jim Blunt's gal a long while, an' if you've taken 
 her off now without her will — an' I reckon you have by 
 the looks of her face— there's going to be tight work of 
 it. The old man ain't going to give it up so ; an' if I 
 reckon right, there's 'Bimelech Purdy she's engaged to, 
 an' he's some too." 
 
 "D — n 'Bimelech Purdy; I'll spurt my knife 'cross 
 her wizen afore ever he shall have her." 
 
 " "Wal, I've said my say, an' all I've got to say besides 
 is this : I don't believe out* fellers reckon on fightiri' any 
 about a woman. They're goin' out to fight for the South, 
 and don't want amy private qu'erls on hand." 
 
 " Wal, all I've got to say is this — that if you don't want 
 to fight for me, Zack Smith, you can go to " 
 
 " Whew ! hold yer horses, Gord. Don't let's come to 
 it rash. There's tin:ie enough yet." 
 
 This ended the colloquy, and both parties turned away 
 with a mutual look of disgust. The girl still feat upon 
 the horse, looking around inquiringly from face to face, 
 as though trying to* spell out friends from foes. The 
 brother had not yet released his hold upon the bridle, but 
 stood as though in momentary expectation of an order to 
 go forward. 
 
 Hopper moved, after his conversation with Smith, du-ect 
 to the spot where sat Ellen Blunt. She had watched his 
 talk with Smith, and knew both that she was the subject 
 of it and that there had been a disagreement. 
 
 A ray of hope shot across her l:^art, as she thought 
 that perhaps even among those who were supposed to be 
 working in concert with him, all were not the friends of 
 the man who had brouo;ht her there. A bitter look of 
 
"OLD GAP," or TENNESSEE. 105 
 
 hatred covered lier pretty faee as he offered his hand and 
 said — 
 
 " Come, Hattie, light down !" ♦ 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 " For^what ! why, for rest and supper, to be sure. Your 
 journey's ended for to-day." 
 
 "See here, Gordon Hopper, perhaps you don't know 
 what you've been doing. If so, I cotmt it my duty to 
 tell you. There maybe no law for Old Virginia now,- 
 but the day will come when you'll be afraid to put your 
 foot back on 'her soil for the work you've done this day." 
 
 " Oh come ! light down, Hattie, and don't talk. There's 
 no law here, you know. I wan't agoing to leave Jones- 
 ville without you. P'haps some o' those Yankee sogers 
 that'll be swarming in thar soon might have carried you 
 off, anyhow." 
 
 "Yes, and I'd rather be carried off or butchered by 
 those same Yankees, that you are so fond of talking about, 
 ten times over, than to be ten minutes in the presence of a 
 traitor and a rebel," and the girl's dark eyes flashed de- 
 fiantly on the men that stood loitering around. 
 
 "Haven't you got your brother with you?" resumed 
 Hopper ; " what do you want more'n that ? Wait a bit, 
 an' he'll make just as good a Confederate soger as the 
 best of 'em." 
 
 " ITever !" shouted the boy. " That's a lie, Gord. Iloppor, 
 and you know it. You can take my heart's blood, but 
 you'll never make me fight for your cursed Stars and 
 Bars. Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes !" 
 
 A laugh went up from the men at the vehemence of 
 the boy, and at this moment Old Gap came to the side of 
 the girl. 
 
 • " Come, gal, you'll have to light down for the time, any- 
 how. We must make the best of a bad bargain. I know 
 your father, an' I won't let any harm come to ye, if I can 
 help it, an' I reckon I kin help it," he said, turning with 
 a menacing look to Hopper. 
 
106 ^' OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 
 
 The girl put her hand in the old man's, and sprang to 
 the ground, saying as she did so — 
 
 " I know you, Gap, and if my father ain't mistaken in 
 you, I shall never meet harm at your hands, but I don't 
 see how an honest man like yourself came to be mixed 
 up with this set." 
 
 " Wal, ye see, gal, we can't all think alike. Now if it 
 so be as yer father b'lieves in the North an' the Aboli- 
 tioners, an' I don't, that ain't agoin' to make either on us 
 any wuss, is it? " 
 
 " You are all misled through 3rour own ignorance, and 
 are going to fight for a bad cause, and more than that, 
 you'll all be whipped, too." 
 
 The men all stood around in silence, gazing upon the 
 girl, whose beauty added to her words of fire kept them 
 spellbound. She knew it, and determined to improve 
 the opportunity. 
 
 " Do you call yourselves men, and lend your aid to drag 
 a woman from her home, for no other end than to help a 
 wretch like Gord. Hopper ? I tell you, every one, as I 
 have told him, that you can drag me over the face of the 
 earth, and treat me worse than ever woman was treated 
 before, and yet I shall say as I do now, I'll never marry 
 Gordon Hopper or desert my faith in the flag." 
 
 A shout of admiration went up from the men, all but 
 Hopper, who stood scowling furiously on the whole scene. 
 Once more spoke Old Gap — 
 
 " Wal, gal, I think ye'll have to mess with me to-night, 
 and in the morning we'll see what kin be done. Now 
 then, will you or Gap be cook ?" 
 
 Like a tiger just unbound sprang Gordon Hopper into 
 the midst of the little circle. 
 
 ''Look'ee here, boys, I want to know at won'st who's 
 captain of this gang. If that old man is, don't count me , 
 in. I've stood it long enough. You've all taken j' our 
 jaw about it, and listened to Avhat that girl has to say ; now 
 you kin hear me. To-morrow mornin' I'm goin' on 
 
" OLD GAP," OP TENNESSEE. 107 
 
 t'wards TTasliville, and I'm goin' to carry that gal witli me, 
 an' I'm d— d if I wouldn't like to see the man that's goin' 
 to stop me." 
 
 Old Grap had seated himself on a log when he had in- 
 vited Hattie Blunt to be cook, and had listened to this 
 harangue from his seat. When it ended, and the threat 
 was uttered, the old man was on his feet in an instant. 
 There was no stoop in his back now. His brown, long 
 hand went straight to the long hunting-knife in his belt, 
 and his lips closed firmly for an instant before he spoke — 
 ■ " I'm the man, stranger ! I'm the man that says that 
 gal '11 never go to Nashville with you without her bein' 
 willjn'. As to who's captain of this gang, I don't care a 
 continental d— n ; that's for the boys to say. But I've got 
 da'ters myself, and they've got da'ters of their >own, an' 
 I don't mean to let anything happen to Jim Blunt's gal 
 but what's right." 
 
 Hopper looked around upon the faces about him, but 
 the expression^ did not satisfy him, and from them to that 
 of the old man, which had by no means a pleasing look. 
 His fingers had been playing nervously with the hammer 
 of his rifle, but gradually they closed over it, and his 
 eyes dropped. 
 
 " Oh, put away yer shootin-iron, boy. The time hasn't 
 come yet for you to think of shootin' Old Gap. Wait 
 till ye git into a skrimmage where ye kin do it safe, be- 
 cause we're both fightin' on the same side. Then I 
 wouldn't trust ye a bit." 
 
 Hopper bit his lip, looked up with a sudden glance of 
 fire, and then turned away and walked into the wood. 
 
 Hattie had been busy during these last words, assisted 
 by her brother, in preparing the evening meal, and at 
 the same time paying close attention to all that was said. 
 The old man cast "a sudden glance upon the dozen faces 
 that stood about the camp-fire, and from them to the 
 girl who was bending over its blaze. There was some- 
 thing in the look of Old Gap that spoke command, and 
 
108 . "OLD GAP," OP TENNESSEE. 
 
 as quickly as lie glanced around tlie old man knew tkat 
 liis earnestness had taken 'its proper effect, and that ke 
 could depend upon the men to aid kim in tke promise ke 
 kad given before Hattie to defend ker. 
 
 " Wko was along witk Gord. Hopper wken ke took tkis 
 gal and boy ?" was kis question. 
 
 Tkree of tke party answered. 
 
 " Yer a nice set o' boys," said tke old man, witk a sneer. 
 "Ye migkt better been at sutkin else. You've let Gord. 
 Hopper use you to do wkat, maybe, may hv'mg ye into 
 trouble, allowin' ye skould ever want to go back to Jories- 
 Tille." 
 
 Tke tkree men kung tkeir keads under tke rebuke-, and 
 soon followed tke example of tkeir leader by sneaking 
 off and banging about tke skirts of tke party. 
 
 Tke supper was served as only tke kands of a woman 
 could kave served it witk tke rougk culinary conve- 
 niences of the woodmen, and tke party settled for tke 
 nigkt's rest. It was Old Gap's turn now to play tke gal- 
 lant, for Hattie Bhmt refused tke offered attentionsiof tke 
 rest. Tke old man gatkered and made tke girl a bed of 
 dried leaves, on tke leeward side of a great log, and kis 
 blanket, in spite of all ker assurances tkat ske did not 
 need it, was tke one that covered her during sleep. The 
 old man had been living the life of a hunter both of 
 " bar" and " Ingin" too long not to know the importance 
 of sleeping with one eye open, and of such a nature were 
 his slumbers this night. Once or twice the old fellow 
 raised himself stealthily to a sitting posture, grasped his 
 rifle, and peered out into the darkness, and then, counting 
 the sleeping figures in the group, he would settle un- 
 easily down into his place. 
 
 With the breaking of dawn in the east every one 
 sprang to their feet, each feeling that the next hour was 
 fraught with action. 
 
 Gord. Hopper had declared that he was going to Kash- 
 villc, and that he should take Hattie Blunt and her 
 
"OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 109 
 
 brofher witli him, while Old Gap had as emphatically 
 declared that the ^irl should not go a step without her 
 own consent. The coming struggle between the two, for 
 struggle it certainly was to be, whether of words or 
 blows, and the uncertainty as to the sympathies of the 
 men for one side or the other, sat uneasily on the faces 
 of all, but especially on those of Hattie and her brother. 
 
 The breakfast was despfatched in silence, and scarce 
 swallowed when the old man came to his feet with a quick 
 movement that meant work. 
 
 "Now, then, hojs, for the march! "Whoever's goin' 
 through the Gap t' wards Nashville, pick up yer traps. 
 'Tw.on't pay to wait yere till some of these Yankees sweep 
 down on us and send us up North to spend the summer 
 in prison barracks. You, George B^unt, pick up your 
 traps and take yer sister back to Jonesville, and mind ye 
 don't say one word more'n ye kin help 'bout this scrape, 
 d'ye hear ?" 
 
 Once more the fingers of Gord. Hopper played uneasily 
 with the hammer of his rifle as he stepped up to the centre 
 of the circle. 
 
 " Look'ee here, old man," he said, fixing his eye steadily 
 in that of Gap's, ". I told ye last night enough to keep ye 
 from meddling with my business. D'ye think I'm a child^ 
 that ye should play with me ? I 'tell ye again what I told 
 ye then, I'm goin' on to Nashville, and I'm goin' to take 
 that gal and her brother with me." 
 
 Ending this sentence he g^ve a spring backward, 
 bringing his rifle to his shoulder as he did so, and then 
 finished with — 
 
 " And now let me see the man that's going to prevent 
 me." 
 
 " Here he is !" shouted a stalwart figure, breaking with 
 a bound through the bush by his side, and followed by 
 a dozen others, sending with one blow of his fist Gord. 
 Hopper one way and his. rifle another, " Here's the man 
 that gives you the lie, you villain ! Here's the man that's 
 
110 "old GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 
 
 going to prevent yon, and mark it on yonr carcass, too. 
 And yon, too, ^^hat kind of' men are ye to let such scum 
 as tlaat abuse an okl man and ill treat a woman in your 
 presence ? D'ye call yourselves men, eh ?" 
 
 " Hold hard, Bim. Purdy, don't abuse the boys for what 
 they couldn't help. The boys hadn't a chance of 'spress- 
 ing a 'pinion on the matter when you brushed in." 
 
 '' Oh, I know all about it.' This ain't the first time 
 I've been about ye. I tracked 'em down here last night, 
 and found you too many for us, and I sent over to Taze- 
 well for these boys. I 'was around you last night when 
 you sat up with your rifle cocked looking for the steps 
 in the bush. And now what's all this party about ? I 
 wouldn't ask. Gap, but that I see you among them, and 
 as I have never yet heard that you have been engaged in 
 anything dishonest, I can't believe^ that the men are rebels 
 and traitors." 
 
 " Hold hard, 'Bimelech Purdy, both sides can say that. 
 Maybe they might call you a rebel and a traitor for 
 fightin' on the side of the North." 
 
 "I'm not fightin' on the side o*f the. North. I'm fight- 
 ing for both sides. I'm fighting to save the South from 
 the consequences of her own doing." 
 
 This seemed a new idea to the old man, and he stopped 
 to consider it. Purdy 'saw his advantage and followed 
 it up. 
 
 " Have you ever thought. Gap, of what a terrible thing 
 it would be should the South succeed in her evil doings, 
 and if all the old things that you've been taught to love 
 should be swept away ? New laws, new customs, a new 
 flag, and new terms for old things. Do you ever think 
 of this, and think that you're an old man, with not long 
 to live." 
 
 " Sartainly, sartainly ! We must expect changes. Life 
 is nothin' but changes, 'Bimelech !" 
 
 " Aye ; but why not changes for the better rather than 
 
" OLD GAP," OF TENNESSEE. 1 1 1 
 
 the worse ? You wouldn't change your rifle for one that 
 couldn't do t-he same work, would ye. Gap ?" 
 
 " Sartainly not !" 
 
 "And then, again, did ye never think ye might be 
 beaten. Think of the disgrace of that — a whipped trai- 
 tor, a fugitive, fearful to return to his home, to die on 
 the spot where he was born and nurtured !" 
 
 The old man leaned his chin heavily on the muzzle of 
 his rifle and seemed for a moment lost in thought. At 
 last he looked up and about the circle, and from them to 
 the spot where stood Purdy, surrounded by his friends 
 and Hattie Blunt clinging to his side. The old man 
 seemed puzzled and waiting for some one to speak. There 
 was a dead silence which he broke with — 
 
 " D'ye hear that, boys ? I believe its Grospel truth ; I 
 reckon there's been some mistake in this consarn. I 
 didn't mind for goin' in for a bit of a scrimmage ; but if 
 it's comin' to that there — goin' to tear up all the old fixins 
 — then all I've got to say is, Gap isn't one of 'em." 
 
 A hearty shout went up from both parties,- and Purdy 
 sprang forward to grasp the hand of the old man and 
 shake it heartily. 
 
 "I was sure," he said, "that old Cumberland Gap would 
 never prove false to friend or country. And now, then, 
 boys, who says for Jonesville instead of Nashville? 
 There'll soon be work enough for ye to do there." 
 
 Another shout from the whole party, and in a few 
 minutes the men who, but an hour before, were ready to 
 be led to overt treason, were on their march northward. 
 
 "What's come of Gord. Hopper?" asked one of the 
 men, picking up his rifle that had been thrown down by 
 Purdy's blow, and looking inquiringly around. 
 
 " Oh, no matter !" was the response ; " let him go an' 
 jine the Confederate army — that'll be punishment enough 
 for him. March on, boys ! Three cheers for Old Gap 1" 
 
112 GOING^IIE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 GOING THE WHOLE HOG. 
 
 • Early one morning in 1862; wliile at Farmington. near 
 Corintji, Mississippi, as Brigadier (now Major) General 
 Palmer was riding along his lines to inspect some breast 
 works that had been thrown up during the previous 
 night, he came suddenly upon some of the boys of Co. 'I, 
 27th Illinois Volunteers, who had just shot a two-hundred- 
 pound hog, and were engaged in the interesting process 
 of skinning it. The soldiers were startled ; their chief 
 looked astonished and sorrowful. • 
 
 "Ah! a body — a corpse. Some poor fellow gone to 
 his last home. Well, he must be buried with military 
 honors. Sergeant, call the officer of the guard." 
 
 The officer was speedily at hand, and received orders 
 .to have a grave dug and the body buried forthwith. The 
 grave was soon prepared, and then the company were 
 mustered. Pall-bearers placed the body of the dead 
 upon a stretcher. The order was given to march, and, with 
 reversed arms and funeral tread, the solemn procession 
 of sixty men followed the body to the grave. Not a 
 word passed nor a muscle of the face stirred while the 
 Last rites of sepulture were 'being performed. The cere- 
 mony over, the general and his staff waved their adieux, 
 and were soon lost in the distance. 
 
 The philosophy of the soldier is usually equal to the 
 emergency. He has read and pondered. He now pain- 
 fully realizes that flesh is as grass, and that life is but a 
 shadow. But he thinks of the resurrection, and his gloom 
 passes away. So with the philosophic boys of Company 
 I, 27th Illinois. Ere their general was fairly seated at 
 his own breakfast-table, there was a raising of the dead, 
 and savory pork-steaks were frying in many a camp-parL 
 
didn't like it. 113 
 
 DIDl^'T LIEE IT. 
 
 During tlie montli of Marcli, 1863, an extensive forag- 
 ing and reconnoitring expedition, comprising several 
 hundred men and teams of Major-General Kejnolds's di- 
 vision, went out from Murfreesborough towards Lebanon, 
 tkrough a fertile and well-stocked country, the people of 
 which were mainly intensely rebel. The expedition was 
 very successful, bringing back corn, fodder, poultry, pigs, 
 and cattle innumerable — also some four hundred head of 
 horses and mules, to aid in mounting Colonel Wilder's 
 infantry brigade. 
 
 ^ While out upon this expedition, the train came to the 
 premises of an active, wealthy, bitter old rebel — one who 
 had made himself very busy in procuring volunteers for 
 the rebel army, and particularly obnoxious to his Union 
 neighbors by assisting ^le rebel agents to hunt down 
 conscripts. He looked rather astonished when our ad- 
 vance-, cavalry was followed oft* by his horses. The quar- 
 termaster came next, with his mules and the contents of 
 his corn -cribs. When the Commissary marched by in 
 charge of the gentleman's extra-fat cattle, "secesh," in 
 great alarm, wanted to know if we were not going to pay 
 for his " goods.'^ 
 
 "We are not paying money at present to any one," 
 blandly replied the quartermaster. 
 
 " Well, but you will give me a receipt for them ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir ; here are your vouchers already made 
 out." 
 
 " Secesh" read them, apparently well pleased, until he 
 came to the inexorable words, " to be paid at the close of 
 the war, upon proof of loyalty." 
 
 " Well, if that is the case," said he, " they may go to 
 the d — 1 ;" and, turning to a couple of his darkies, who 
 were looking on with open mouths, he administered to 
 8 
 
114 , PRAYING FOR THE PRESIDENT. 
 
 tliem a few vigorous kicks a posteriori, exclaiming, "D — n 
 you, you go too !" 
 
 A PEAOTIOAL JOKE. 
 
 m 
 
 The soldier in his best estate is full of fun. In a tent 
 in the camp of the 11th Indiana Battery, near Murfrees- 
 borough, in the absence of chairs, a rude bench had been 
 constructed by placing a board upon cross-legs. The 
 board was soon found too limber to bear up the crowd 
 which daily enjoyed its comforts, and was, in conse- 
 quence, strengthened by laying another thick plank over 
 it. A roguish sergeant one day removed this top plank, 
 bored a number of auger-holes nearly through the bot- 
 tom board, filled them with powder, laid a train from one 
 to another, prepared his fuse, and then replaced the plank. 
 Shortly after, the bench, as usual, was filled with hi's un- 
 suspecting comrades, when he reached down and touched 
 the fuse with his lighted cigar. Of course, there w^s an 
 explosion just about that time, which hoisted the party as 
 would a petard, upsetting the stove and tea-furniture, 
 knocking down the tent, and enveloping all in smoke and 
 dire confusion. 
 
 PEAYING rOE THE PEESIDEUT. 
 
 In the summer of 1861, a private in one of the regi- 
 ments of the Army of the Potomac was court-martialled 
 for sleeping on his post out near Chain Bridge on the 
 Upper Potomac. He was convicted ; his sentence was 
 death ; the finding was approved of by the General, and 
 the day fixed for his execution. He was a youth of more 
 than ordinary intelligence ; he did not beg for pardon, 
 but was willing to meet his fate. 
 
 The time drew near ; the stern necessity of war required 
 
PRAYING FOR THE PRESIDENT. 116 
 
 that an example should be made of some oneii^ his was 
 an aggravated case. But the case reached the ears of the 
 President ; he resolved to save him ; he signed a pardon 
 and sent it out ; the day came. 
 
 " Suppose," thought the President, " my pardon has not 
 reached him." 
 
 The telegraph was called into requisition ; an answer 
 did not come promptly. 
 
 "Bring up my carriage/' he ordered. 
 
 It camC; and soon the important state papers were 
 dropped, and through the hot, broiling sun and dusty 
 roads he rode to the camp, about ten miles, and saw that 
 the soldier was saved. 
 
 He doubtless forgot the incident, but the soldier did 
 not. When the Third Yermont charged upon the rifle- 
 pits before Yorktow:^ the following year the enemy 
 poured a volley upon them. The first man who fell with 
 six ^bullets in his body, was Wm. Scott, of company K. 
 His comrades caught him up, and as his life blood ebbed 
 away, he raised to heaven, amid the din of war, the cries 
 of the dying, and the shouts of the enemy, a prayer for 
 the President, and as he died he remarked to his comrade 
 that he had shown he was no coward, and not afraid to die. 
 
 He was interred in the presence of his regiment, in a 
 little grove about two miles to the rear of the rebel fort, 
 in the centre of a group of holly and vines ; a few cherry- 
 trees, in full bloom, are scattered around the edge. In 
 digging his grave, a skull and bones were found, and 
 metal buttons, showing that the identical spot had been . 
 used in the Eevolutionary war for our fathers who fell irk 
 the same cause. The chaplain narrated the circumstance 
 to the boys who stood around with uncovered heads. 
 He prayed for the President, and paid the most glowing 
 tribute to his noble heart that we have ever heard. The . 
 tears started to their eyes as the clods of earth were thrown 
 upon him in his narrow grave, where he lay shrouded in 
 his coat and blanket. 
 
116 THE QUAKERS ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 The mcti separated ; in a few minutes all were engaged 
 in something around the camp, as though nothing had 
 happened unusual ; but that scene will live upon their 
 memories while life lasts ; the calm look of Scott's face, 
 the seeming look of satisfaction he felt still lingered ; and 
 could the President have seen him, he would have felt 
 that his act of mercy had been wisely bestowed. 
 
 THE QUAKEES OIT THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 This rebellion has disturbed the deepest fountains of 
 the life of our people — both -the good and the bad. It 
 has agitated the serenest waters. Even the members of 
 the Society of Friends have been among the bravest and 
 best contributors to the war. In the field their gallant 
 sons have done all the duties of citizens as nobly as their 
 fathers have performed them in the calmer scenes* of 
 domestic and civil life. 
 
 At one of the regular meetings of the Society of Friends 
 (Orthodox), a committee was proposed to be raised to 
 inquire into and attend to the cases of young men, sons 
 of members, who it was supposed had, in clear violation 
 of all the standard .rules of the Society, enlisted for mili- 
 tary service in this dreadful war. It was notorious that 
 a large number of this class had actually shouldered the 
 musket and marched with their regiments ; and it was 
 strongly suspected that many of these boys had actually 
 received the warmest blessings of their demure but none 
 the less heroic mothers, and the inspiring encouragement 
 of gentle sisters, on their departure. 
 
 But, as the case had been brought up before the meet- 
 ing by some of the strictest Friends, it became necessary 
 to give it the most serious consideration ; and the mem- 
 bers of the committee were duly proposed. 
 
 The first rose with great dignity, and, with that inimi- 
 table serenity which always characterizes the proceedings 
 
• THE scout's story. lit 
 
 of the Orthodox Quakers, requested to "be excused, on the 
 ground that he could not conscientiously serve in that 
 capacity) since, very much to his pain and sorrow, among 
 the young members who had enlisted for the war he had 
 a son. 
 
 Another member desired to be excused on the ground 
 that, without his knowledge, two of his sons had not only 
 joined the army, but were already in the field. 
 
 Finally, the third member rose, and stood some moments 
 without speaking. He was a venerable man : he looked 
 like the patriarch of the solemn assembly. His hair was 
 white, but his cheek looked " like a rose in the snow." 
 
 " Friends, we in our weakness cannot foresee the pur- 
 poses of the great Father of all things ; nor should we 
 attempt to scrutinize his almighty designs. It becomes 
 my duty to inform you all that my youngest son, two of . 
 my grandsons, and several of my nej)liews, have also taken 
 up 'arms in the defence of c*ur beloved country ; and I am 
 very much afraid that I could not serve on the committee 
 with any good to our cause." 
 
 A reverent silence brooded over the assembly, and for 
 a protracted interval the silence remained unbroken. At 
 last the " mover of the motion" rose, and proposed that 
 " the whole matter should be temporarily postponed." 
 
 THE SCOUT'S STOEY. 
 
 It was in the bleak mountain country of East Ten- 
 nessee ; the evening was growing late, and the camp-fire 
 was smouldering lower and lower, but we still sat round 
 it, for the spell of the scout's marvellous gift of story- telling 
 we were none of us willing to dissolve. Captain Charlie 
 Leighton had been a lieutenant in a Michigan Battery at 
 the commencement of the war, but a natural love of ex- 
 citement and restlessness of soul had early prompted him 
 to seek employment as a scout, in which he soon rose to 
 
118 ♦ THE scout's story. 
 
 unusual eminence. He is a man of mucli refinement, 
 well educated, and of a " quick inventive brain." The 
 tale I am about to relate is my best recollection of it as 
 it fell from liis lips, and if there is aught of elegance in 
 its diction, as here presented, it is all his own. He had 
 been delighting us with incidents of the war, most of 
 which were derived from his own experience, when I 
 expressed a desire to know something of his first attempt 
 at scouting. He willingly assented, took a long pull at 
 my brandy flask, and commenced his yarn ; and I thought 
 that I had never seen a handsomer man than Charlie 
 Leighton the scout, as he carelessly lounged there, with 
 the ruddy gleams of the dying camp-fire occasionally flick- 
 ering over his strongly marked intelligent face, and his 
 curling black hair waving fitfully in the night wind, which 
 now came down from the mountain fresher and chillier. 
 
 It happened in "Western Virginia, said he. I had been 
 personally acquainted with our commander. General K., 
 before the war commenced, and having intimated, a short 
 time previous to the date of my story, that I desired to 
 try my luck in the scouting service — of which a vast deal 
 was required to counteract the guerrillas with which the 
 Blue Bidge fairly teemed at that time — one night, late 
 in the fall of the year, I was delighted to receive orders 
 to report at his head-quarters. The general was a man 
 of few words, and my instructions were brief. 
 
 '" Listen," said he. " My only reliable scout (MackWorth) 
 was killed last night at the lower ford ; and General P. 
 (the rebel commander) has his head-quarters at the Sed- 
 ley Mansion on the Romney road." 
 
 " Yery well," said I, beginning to feel a little queer. 
 
 " I want you to go to the Sedley Mansion," was the 
 cool rejoinder. 
 
 " To go there ! Why, it's in the heart of the enemy's 
 position !" was my amazed ejaculation. 
 
 "Just the reason I wdnt it done," resumed the general. 
 " Listen : I attack to-morrow at day-break. F. knows it^ 
 
THE scout's story. 119 
 
 or half suspects it, and will mass either on the centre or 
 the left wing. I must know which. The task is thick 
 with danger — regular life and death. Two miles from here, 
 midway to the enemy's outposts, and six paces beyond the 
 second mile-stone, are two rockets propped on the inside 
 of a hollow stump. Mackworth placed them there yes- 
 terday. You are to slip to F.'s quarters to-night, learn 
 what I want, and hurry back to the hollow stump. If 
 he masses on the centre, let off one rocket ; if on thef left, 
 let off both. This duty, I repeat, abounds with danger. 
 You must start immediately, and alone. Will you go ?" 
 
 Everything considered, I think I voted in the afiirm- 
 ative pretty readily, but it required a slight struggle. 
 Nevertheless, consent I did, and immediately left the tent 
 to make ready. 
 
 It was near ten o'clock when, having received a few 
 additional words of advice from the chief, I set forth on 
 my perilous ride. The country was quite familiar to me, 
 so I had little fear of losing my Avay, which was no in- 
 considerable advantage, I can tell you. Elding slowly 
 at first, as soon as I had passed our last outpost, I put 
 spurs to my horse (a glorious gray thorough-bred which 
 the general had lent me for the occasion) and fled down 
 the mountain at a breakneck pace. It was a cool, misty, 
 uncertain night — almost frosty, and the country was wild 
 and desolate. Mountains and ravines were the ruling 
 featufes, with now and then that diversification of the 
 broomy, irregular plateau, with which our mountain 
 scenery is occasionally softened.' I continued my rapid 
 pace with but little caution until I arrived at the further 
 extremity of one of these plateaux. Here I brought up 
 sharply beside a block of granite, which I recognized as 
 the second mile-stone. Dismounting, I proceeded to the 
 hollow stump which the general had intimated, and finding 
 the. rockets there, examined them Avell to make sure of their 
 efiiciency — remounted, and was away again. But now I 
 exercised much more caution in my movements. I rode 
 
120 THE scout's story. 
 
 more slowly, kept my horse on the turf at the edge of- 
 the road, in order to deaden the hoof-beats, and also short- 
 ened the chain of my sabre, b hiding the scabbard with 
 my knee to prevent its jingling. Still I was not satisfied, 
 but tore my handkerchief in two, and' made fast to either 
 .heel the rowel of my spurs, which otherwise had a little 
 tinkle of their own. Then. I kept wide awake, with my 
 eyes everywhere at once, in the hope of catching a glimpse 
 of some clew or landmark — the glimmer of a camp-fire — a 
 tent-top in the moonlight, which now began to shine faintly 
 — or to hear the snort of a steed, the signal of a picket — • 
 anything to guide me or to give warning of the lurking 
 foe. But no : if there had been any camp-fires they were 
 dead ; if there had been any tents they were struck. Not 
 a sign — not a sound. Everything was quiet as the tomb. 
 
 The great mountains rose around me in their mantlet? 
 of pine and hoods of mist, cheerless and repelling, as if 
 their solitude had never been broken. The moon wa^ 
 driving through a weird and ragged sky, with something 
 desolate and solemn in her" haggard face that seemed like 
 an omen of ill. And in spite of my efforts to be cheerful, 
 I felt the il'on loneliness and sense of danger creep through 
 my flesh and touch the bones, 
 
 None but those who have actually experienced it can 
 praperly conceive of the apprehensions which throng the 
 breast of him, howsoever brave, who knows himself to be 
 alone in the midst of enemies who are invisible. The lion 
 hunter of Abyssinia is encompassed with peril when he 
 makes a pillow of his gun in the desert ; and our own 
 pioneer slumbers but lightly in his new cabin when he 
 knows that the- savage, whose monomania is vengeance, 
 is prowling the forest that skirts his clearing. But the 
 lion is not always hungry ; and even the Indian may be 
 conciliated. The hunter confronts his terrible antagonist 
 with something deadlier than ferocity. The hand that 
 levels and the eye that directs the rifled tube are nerved 
 and fired by " the mind, the spirit, the Promethean spark," 
 
THE SCOUT'S STORY. 121 
 
 which, in this case, is indeed a "tower of strength." And 
 the settler, with promises and alcohol, may have won the 
 savage to himself. But to the solitary scout, at midnight, 
 every turn of the road may conceal a finger on a hair 
 trigger ; every stump or bush may hold a foe in waiting. 
 If he rides through a forest, it is only in the deepest 
 shadow that he dares ride upright ; and should, he cross 
 an open glade, where the starlight or moonshine drops 
 freely, he crouches low on the saddle and hurries across, 
 for every second he feels he may be a target. His senses 
 are painfully alive, his faculties strained to their utmost 
 tension. 
 
 By way of a little episode, I knew a very successful 
 scout, who met his death, however, on the Peninsula, who 
 would always require a long sleep immediately after an 
 expedition of peril, if it had lasted but a few hours, and 
 had apparently called forth no more muscular exertion 
 than was necessary to sit the saddle. But, strange as it 
 may s^em, he would complain of overpowering fatigue, 
 and immediately drop into the most profound slumber. 
 And I have been informed that this is very frequently 
 the case. I can only attribute it to the fact that, owing 
 to the extreme and almost abnormal vivacity — I think 
 of no better word — of the faculties and senses, a man on 
 these momentous occasions lives tjA)ice or thrice as^fast as 
 ordinarily; and the usual nerve-play and wakefulness of 
 a day and night may thus be concentrated in the brief 
 period of a few hours. 
 
 But to resume : I felt to the full this apprehension, this 
 anxiety, this exhaustion, but the knowledgp of my posi- 
 tion and the issues at stake kept my blood flowing. I 
 had come to the termination of the last plateau or plain, 
 when the road led me down the side of a ravine, with a 
 prospect ahead of nothing but darkness. Here, too, I was 
 compelled to make more' noise, as there was no sod for 
 my horse to^tread on, and the road was flinty and rough 
 in the e^itreme. But I kept on as cautiously as possible. 
 
122 THE scout's story. 
 
 when suddenly, just at the bottom of the ravine, where 
 the road began to ascend the opposite declivity, I came 
 to a dead halt, confronted by a group of several horsemen, 
 so suddenly that they seemed to have sprung from the 
 earth like phantoms. 
 
 " Why do y-ou return so slowly ?" said one of them, 
 impatiently. "What have you seen? Did you meet 
 Colonel Craig?" 
 
 For a moment — a brief one — I gave myself up for lost ; 
 but, with -the rapid reflection and keen invention which 
 a desperate strait will sometimes superinduce, I grasped 
 the language of the speaker, and formed my plan accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Why do you return so slowly?" I had been sent 
 somewhere, then*. 
 
 " A¥hat have you seen ?" I had been sent as a spy, 
 then. 
 
 " Did you meet Colonel Craig ?" 
 
 Oho ! I thought, / will be Colonel Craig. No, -I won't ; 
 I will be Colonel Craior's orderly. So I spoke out 
 boldly- 
 
 " Colonel Craig met your messenger, who had seen 
 nothing, and advised him to scout down the edge of the 
 creek for half a mile. But he dispatched me, his orderly, 
 to say that the enemy appear to be retreating in heavy 
 masses. I am also to convey this intelligence to Grene- 
 ral F." 
 
 The troopers had started at the tones of a strange 
 voice, but seemed to listen with interest and without sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " Did the colonel think the movement a real retreat, or 
 only a feint ?" asked the leader. 
 
 " He was uncertain," I replied, beginning to feel secure 
 and roguish at the same time ; " but he bade me to say that 
 he would ascertain ; and in an hour or two, if you should 
 see one rocket up to the north there, you might conclude 
 that the Yankees were retreating ; if you should see two. 
 
THE scout's story. 123 
 
 then you miglit guess tliat they were not retreating, but 
 stationary, with likelihood of remaining inert for another 
 day." 
 
 " Good !" cried the rebel. " Do you know the way to 
 the general's quarters ?" 
 
 " I think I can find it," said I ; " although I am not 
 familiar with this side of the mountain." 
 
 " It's a mile this side of the Sedley Mansion," said the 
 trooper. " You will find some pickets at the head of the 
 road. You must there leave your horse, and climb the 
 steep, when you will see a farm-house, and fifteen minutes' 
 walk toAvard it will bring you to the general's tent. I 
 will go with you to the top of the road." And setting 
 off at a gallop, the speaker left me to follow, which I 
 hesitated not to do. Now, owing to their mistake, the 
 countersign had not been th'ought of; but the next picket 
 Would not be likely to swallow the same dose of silence, 
 and it was a lucky thing that the trooper led the way, 
 for he would reach them first, and I would have a chance 
 to qatch the password from his lips. But he passed the 
 picket so quickly, and dropped the precious syllables so 
 Indistinctly, that I only caught the first of them — " Tally'''' 
 ' — while the remainder might as well have been Greek. 
 Tally, tally, tally what ? Good God ! thought I, what can 
 it be? Tally, tally — here I am almost up to the pickets 
 —what can it be ? Tallyho ? No, that's English. Tal- 
 leyrand ? No, that's French. God help me ! Tally, 
 tally — 
 
 " Tallahassee !" I yelled with the inspiration of de- 
 spair, as I dashed through the picket, and their levelled 
 carbines sank toothless before that wonderful spell — the 
 Countersign. 
 
 Blessing my stars, and without further mishap, I 
 reached the place indicated by the trooper, which was 
 high up on the side of the mountain — so high that clouds 
 were forming in the deep valley below. Making my 
 bridle fast, I clambered with some difliculty the still 
 
124 THE scout's story. 
 
 ascending slope on my left. Extraordinary caution was 
 required. I almost crept towards tlie farm-house, and 
 soon perceived the tent of the rebel chief. A solitary 
 guard was pacing between«it and me — probably a hun- 
 dred yards from the tent. Perceiving that boldness was 
 my' only plan, I sauntered up to him with as free-and- 
 easy an air as I could muster. 
 
 "Who goes there?" 
 
 "A friend," 
 
 " Advance and give the countersign." 
 
 I advanced as near as was safe, and whispered " Talla- 
 hassee," V\rith some fears as to the result. 
 
 " It's a d — d lie !" said the sentry, bringing his piece to' 
 the shoulder in the twinkle of an eye. " That answers 
 the pickets, but not me." Click, click, went the rising 
 hammer of the musket. 
 
 I am a dead man, thought I to myself; I am a dead 
 man unless the cap fails. Wonderful, marvellous to re- 
 late, the cap did fail. The hammer dropped with a dull, 
 harmless thug on the nipple. With the rapidity of thought 
 and the stealth of a pantlier I glided forward and clutched 
 his windpipe, forcing him to his knees, while the gun 
 slipped to the ground. There was a fierce but silent 
 struggle. The fellow could not speak, for my hand on 
 his throat ; but he was a powerful man, Avith a bowie- 
 knife in his belt, if he could only get at it. But \ got it 
 first, hesitated a moment, and then drove it in his mid- 
 rift' to the hilt ; and just at that instant his grinders closed 
 on my arm and bit to the bone. Eestraining a cry with 
 the utmost difficulty, I got in another blow, thisj^ime home, 
 and the jaws of tlie rebel flew apart with a start, for my 
 blade had pressed the spfing of the casket. Breathless 
 from the struggle, I lay still to collect my thoughts, and 
 listened to know if the inmates of the tent had been dis- 
 turbed. But no ; a light was shining^ through the canvas, 
 and I could hear the low murmur of voices from within, 
 which I had before noticed, and which seemed to be those 
 
THE SCOUT^S STORY. 125 
 
 of a number of men in earnest consultation. I looked 
 at the corpse of tlie rebel remorsefully. The slouched 
 liat had fallen off in the scufflC; and the pale face of the 
 dead man was upturned to the scant moonlight. It was 
 a young, noble, and exceedingly handsome .face, and I 
 noticed that the hands and feet were snfall and beautifully 
 shaped ; while everything about the body denoted it to 
 have been the mansion of a gallant, gentle soul. 
 
 Was it a fair fight? did I attack him justly? thought 
 ' I ; and in the sudden contrition of my heart, I almost 
 i knelt to the ground. But the sense of my great peril 
 recurred to me, stifling everything else, however worthy. 
 ' I took off the dead man's overcoat and put it on, threw 
 my cap away and replaced it with the fallen sombrero, 
 i ;^nd then dragged the corpse behind an outhouse of the 
 ' farm thQ,t stood close by. Eeturning, I picked up the 
 I gun, and began to saunter up and down in a very com- 
 ( mendable way indeed ; but a sharp observer might have 
 ' noticed a furtiveness and anxiety in t^ie frequent glances 
 J I threw at the tent, which would not have augured well 
 j for my safety. I drew nearer and nearer to the tent at 
 every turn, until I could almost distinguish the voices 
 I within ; and presently after taking a most minute survey 
 \ of the premises, I crept up to the tent, crouched down to 
 ' the bottom of the trench, and listened with all my might. 
 I could also see under the canvas. • There were half a 
 dozen Vebel chieftains within, and a map was spread on a 
 table in the centre of the apartment. At length the con- 
 sultation was at an end, and the company rose to depart. 
 I ran back to my place, and resumed the watchful saunter 
 of the guard with as indifferent an air as possible, draw- 
 ing the hat well over my eyes. 
 
 The generals came outside of the tent and looked 
 about a little before they disappeared. Two of them 
 came close to me and passed almost within a yard of the 
 sentry's body. But they passed on, and I drew a deep 
 breath of relief. A light still glimmered thr6ugh the tent, 
 
126 THE scout's story. 
 
 but presently that, too, vanished, and all was still. But 
 occasionally I would hear the voice of a fellow sentry^ 
 or perhaps the rattle of a halter in some distant manger. 
 
 I looked at my watch. It was two o'clock — would be 
 five before I could fire the signal, and the attack was to 
 be at daybreak. 
 
 Cautiously as before, I started on my return, reaching 
 my horse without accident. Here I abandoned the gun 
 and overcoat, remounted and started down the mountain. 
 ^' Tallahassee " let me through the first picket again, but 
 something was wrong when I cantered down the ravine 
 to the troopers to whom I had been so confidentially dis- 
 patched by Colonel Craig. Probably the genuine mes- 
 senger, or perhaps the gallant Colonel himself had paid 
 them a visit during my absence. At any rate, I saw that 
 something unpleasant was up, but resolved to make the 
 best of it. 
 
 " Tallahassee !" I cried, as I began to descend the ravine. 
 
 "Halt, or you're 'a dead man!" roared the leading 
 trooper. "He's a Yank!" "Cut him down!" chimed in 
 the others. 
 
 " Tallahassee ! Tallahassee !" I yelled. And committing 
 my soul to God, I plunged down the gulley with sabre 
 and revolver in either hand. • 
 
 Click— bang ! something grazed my cheek like a hot 
 iron. Click — bang again! something whistled by my 
 ear with an ugly intonation. And then I was in their 
 midst, shooting, stabbing, slashing, and swearing like a 
 fiend. The rim. of my hat flapped over my face from a 
 sabre cut, and I felt blood trickling down my neck. But 
 I burst away from them, up the banks of the ravine, and 
 along the bare plateau, all the time yelling " Tallahassee 1 
 Tallahassee !" without knowing why. I could hear the 
 alarm spread back over the mountain by halloos and 
 drums, and presently the clatter of pursuing steeds. But 
 1 fled onward like a whirlwind, almost fainting from 
 
IN THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY. 12T 
 
 excitement and loss of blood, until I reeled off at the 
 hollow stump. 
 
 Fiz, fiz ! one, two ! and my heart leaped with exultation 
 as the rushing rockets followed each other in quick suc- 
 cession to the zenith, and burst on the gloom in glittering 
 showers. Emptying the remaining tubes of my pistol at 
 the nearest pursuer, now but fifty yards off, I was in the 
 saddle and away again without waiting to see the result 
 of my aim. It was a ride for life for a few moments ; but 
 I pressed as noble a steed as ever spurned the footstool, 
 and as we neared the Union lines the pursuit dropped off. 
 "When I attained the summit of the first ridge of our 
 position, and saw the day break faintly and rosily beyond 
 the pine-tops and along the crags, the air fluttered violently 
 in my face, the solid earth quivered beneath my feet, as a 
 hundred cannon opened simultaneously above, below, and 
 around me. Serried columns of men were swinging ir- 
 resistibly down the mountain toward the opposite slope ; 
 flying field-pieces were dashing off into position ; long 
 lines of cavalry were haunting the gullies, or hovering 
 like vultures on the steep ; and the blare of bugles rose 
 above the roar of the artillery with a wild, victorious peal. 
 The two rockets had been answered, and the veterans of 
 the Union were bearing down upon the enemy's weakened 
 centre like an avalanche of fire. 
 
 " So that is all," said the scout, rising and yawning. 
 " The battle had begun in earnest. And maybe I didn't 
 dine with General K. when it was over and the victory 
 gained. Let's go to bed." 
 
 IS THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY. 
 
 A squadron of two hundred of Stuart's cavalry had 
 surprised seventeen mounted Union pickets, who were 
 completely surrounded, and, of course, ordered to sur- 
 render. 
 
128 INCIDENTS OP A FIGHT. 
 
 " Sir," said the lieutenant, " sucli is the fate of war," and 
 offering his sword, turned his horse to his command, and 
 gave the order — 
 
 *' Boys, empty sixteen saddles." 
 
 One flash from sixteen carbines obeyed. Dashing on 
 the rebel captain, and seizing him by the collar, he dragged 
 him away, dangling at his horse's flanks. 
 
 '^ Follow, men !" 
 
 They did ; and riddled though their clothes were with 
 bullets", they all escaped. 
 
 After the first mile had been made, the lieutenant 
 checked up, and asked his prisoner, the captain, if he 
 would prefer any other mode of riding. 
 
 Of course he did. As good luck would have it, the 
 •rebel's horse was loyal to his master, and he had in the 
 melee followed him. One of our men seized his bridle 
 rein, and thus, as the rebel captain struck on his feet, his 
 own horse whinneyed to his master's call. 
 
 " Now, captain, you must feel at home, I suppose, you 
 are mounted again." 
 
 It was a strange coincidence. The rebel was sent 
 to the Old Capitol Prison some days later, and among 
 the courtesies shown to him there, he found the identical 
 copy of Xenophon's Cyroptedia which he and his captor 
 had both read, as class-mates, in Yale College, ten years 
 before. 
 
 INCIDENTS OP A TIGHT. 
 
 At the battle of Hanover Court-House, Ya., two ser- 
 geants met in the woods ; each drew his knife, and the 
 two bodies were found together, each Avith a knife buried 
 in it to the hilt. 
 
 Some men had a cool way of disposing of prisoners. 
 One, an officer of the Massachusetts Ninth, well known 
 in Boston as a professor of muscular Christianity, better 
 
A HEROIC SAILOR, .. 129 
 
 known as "the cliild of the regiment," while rushing 
 through the woods at the head of his company, came 
 upon a rebeL Seizing the " gray back" by the collar, he 
 threw him over his shoulder, with " Pick him up, some- 
 body." 
 
 A little Yankee, marching down by the side of a fence 
 which skirted the woods, came upon a strapping secesh, 
 who attempted to seize and pull him over the rails, but 
 the little one had too much science. A blow with the 
 butt of a musket levelled secesh to the ground a^nd made 
 him a prisoner. There were many marvellous escapes. 
 
 A HEEOIO SAILOR. 
 
 When the record of the war comes to be written, not 
 the least interesting feature of it will be the heroic deeds 
 of the humble men who compose the rank and file of the 
 army and navy. Instances of individual heroism and 
 self-sacrince are already presenting themselves in abun- 
 dance, and when the conflict is happily ended, will furnish 
 a rich harvest of materials for the annalist and historian. 
 One of the most conspicuous of these in any chronicle of 
 the war, must be the case of the gallanj: tar, John Davis, 
 whose courage in the attack on Elizabeth City, N. C, was 
 made the subject of special mention by his immediate 
 commander and by Commodore Goldsborough, who thus 
 imited to make manifest the bond of true chivalry, which 
 binds together all brave men, however widely separated 
 their station. The following is the story of this brave 
 sailor : — 
 
 " Lieut. J.*C. Chapin, commanding United States steamer 
 "Valley City, off' Eoanoke Island, writing to Commodore 
 -Goldsborough, noticed a magnanimous act of bravery by 
 John Davis, gunner's mate on board his vessel, at the 
 taking of Elizabeth City. He says John Davis was at 
 his station during the action, in the mai 
 9 
 
130 ., AD7ENTUIIE OF KILLBARE, THE SCOUT. 
 
 powder, when a shell from the enemy's battery, penetrated 
 into the magazine, and exploded outside of it. He threw 
 himself over a barrel of powder, protecting it with his 
 own body from the fire, while at the same time passing 
 out the powder for the guns. 
 
 " Commodore Goldsborough, in transmitting this letteT 
 to the ISTavy Department, says, ^It affords me infinite 
 pleasure to forward this communication to the Navy 
 Department, to whose especial consideration I beg leave 
 to recommend the gallant and noble sailor alluded to ;' 
 and he adds, in a postcript, ' Davis actually seated himself 
 on the barrel, the top being out, and in this position he 
 remained until the flames were extinguished.' " 
 
 ■ The Navy Department promptly rewarded him. He 
 was a gunner's mate, receiving a salary of twenty-five 
 dollars per month or three hundred dollars per year. The 
 evidence of his bravery was received at the Navy De- 
 partment, and on the next day Secretary Welles appointed 
 him a gunner, an of&ce which carries with it a salary of 
 one thousand dollars per year, and is a life appointment, 
 the salary increasing by length of service to one thousand 
 four hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 ADVENTUEE OP KILLDAEE, THE SCOUT. 
 
 "I left the city of Nashville," says Killdare, "to go South, 
 taking with me a few goods to peddle. I passed down 
 the Charlotte pike, and travelled two miles up the Rich- 
 land Creek, then crossed over to the Hardin pike, follow- 
 ing tha*t road to Harpeth Creek, and crossed below De 
 
 Morse's mill. At the mill I met De, Morse, who 
 
 said to me, ^Killdare, do you make another trip?' I 
 replied, ' I do not know.' De Morse then said, ^ If you 
 get below the meeting-house, you are saved,' and smiled. 
 I proceeded on my way until I came to a blacksmith-shop 
 on the pike, at which a gentleman by the name of Marlin 
 
ADVENTURE OF KILLDARE, THE SCOUT. 131 
 
 came out and asked if I had heard anythmg of a man 
 named Sanford being killed. I told Marlin I did not 
 know anything about it, and proceeded on to South Har- 
 per to Squire Allison's, which is seventeen miles from 
 ISTashville. I then fed my mules, stopped about one hour, 
 and proceeded across South Harper towards Williamsport. 
 
 " About one mile the other side of South Harper, two 
 rebel scouts came galloping up, and asked me what I had 
 for sale. I told them needles, pins, and playing-cards. 
 They then inquired, ' Have you any papers to go South ?' 
 I replied I had, and showed them some recommendations. 
 They asked me to get down from my carryall, as they 
 wanted to talk with me. This I did; and they then 
 asked — 
 
 " ' Have you any pistols ?' 
 
 '''No,' I replied. 
 
 " Stepping back a few.paces, and each drawing a pistol, 
 
 one of them said, ' You scoundrel, you are our 
 
 prisoner ; you are a Yankee spy, and you carry letters 
 from the South, and at the dead hour of night you carry 
 these letters to Truesdail's office. We lost a very valu- 
 able man on Monday while attempting to arrest you at 
 your house : his name was Sanford, and he was a great 
 deal thought of by General Yan Horn. So now we've 
 got you, you, turn your wagon round and go back.' 
 
 "We turned and went to Squire Allison's again, at 
 which place I met Dr. Morton, from JSTashville, whom I 
 requested to assist in getting me released. Dr. Morton 
 spoke to the men, who, in reply, said — 
 
 " ' We have orders to arrest him as a spy, for carrying 
 letters to Truesdail's head-quarters.' 
 
 " They then turned back to South Hamper Creek, and 
 took me up the creek about one mile, where we met about 
 eight more of these scouts and Colonel MclSTairy, of ISTash- 
 ville, who was riding along in a buggy. The lieutenant 
 in command of the squad wrote a despatch to Yan Dorn, 
 and gave it to one of the men, by the name of Thompson, 
 
1 32 ADVENTURE OF KILLDARE, THE SCOUT. 
 
 who had me in custody, and we then proceeded up the 
 creek to Spring Hill, towards the head-quarters of General 
 Van Dorn. 
 
 " About six miles up the creek, Thompson learned I 
 had some whiskey, which I gave him, and of which he 
 drank until he got pretty well intoxicated. In the neigh- 
 borhood of Ivy we stopped until about six o'clock in the 
 evening. About one mile from Ivy the wheel of my 
 carryall broke. A neighbor came to us with an axe and 
 put a pole under the axletree, and we proceeded on our 
 way. We had gone but a few hundred yards when the 
 wagon turned over ; we righted it, and Thompson took a 
 carpet-sack full of goods, filled his pockets, and then told 
 me 'to go to ; he would not take me to head- 
 quarters.' Changing his mind, however, he said he 
 would, as he had orders so to do, and showed me the de- 
 spatch written by Lieutenant Johnson to General Yan 
 Dorn. It read as follows : — ^ 
 
 " ' I have succeeded in capturing Mr. Killdare. Archy 
 Cheatham, of Nashville, says Killdare is not loyal to the 
 Confederacy. The Federals have mounted five hundred 
 light infantry. Sanford's being killed is confirmed.' 
 
 "Thompson, being very drunk, left me, taking the 
 goods he stole. Two citizens came up shortly and told 
 me to turn round, and stop all -night at Isaac Ivy's, 1st 
 District, Williamson County. There we took the re- 
 mainder of the goods into the house. At three o'clock 
 in the morning a negro woman came and knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 " Mr. Ivy says, ' What do you want ?' 
 
 " ' A soldier is down at the creek, and wants to know 
 where his prisoner is,' was the reply. 
 
 " ' What has he done with the goods he took from that 
 man?' 
 
 "'He has left them at our house, and has just started 
 up the creek as I came up.' 
 
 " ' That will do. Go on.' 
 
ADVENTURE OF KILLDARE, THE SCOUT. 133 
 
 "I was awake, and tried to make my escape, asking 
 Mr. Ivy if "he had a couple of saddles to loan me. 
 
 '^He said lie had; and I borrowed 'from him seven 
 dollars, as Thompson took all my money (fifty dollars in 
 Georgia Currency). He (Ivy) then told me the route I 
 should take — going a few miles towards Franklin, and 
 then turn towards my home in Nashville. Taking Ivy's 
 advice, we proceeded on our way towards Franklin. 
 About eight miles from Franklin, four guerrillas came up 
 to me and fired two pistols. 
 
 " ' Halt !' said they ; ' you want to make your way to 
 the Yankees. We have a notion to kill you, any way.' 
 
 " They then ordered me to turn, which I did — two go- 
 ing behind, whipping the mules, and hooting and halloo- 
 ing at a great rate. "We then turned back to Ivy's. 
 When we got there, I sdid — 
 
 " ' Where is Thompson, my guard, who told me to go 
 on?' 
 
 " ' He was here early this morning, and has gone up 
 the hill hunting you, after borrowing my shot-gun,' was 
 the answer. 
 
 " Some conversation ensued between the parties, when 
 Ivy wrote a note to General Yan Dorn and gave it to 
 Thompson. Ivy then gave us our equipage, and we went 
 towards Spring Hill. On the way we met, on Carter's 
 Creek Pike, a camp of four "hundred Texan Eangers. 
 We arrived at Spring Hill at sundown of the day follow- 
 ing. At Yan Horn's head-quarters I asked for an inter- 
 view with the general, which was not allowed, but was 
 ordered to Columbia to prison until further orders. 
 
 " The next evening a Nashville soldier, who stood sen- 
 tinel, let me out, and said, ' You have no business here.' 
 I made my way towards Shelbyville, crossed over Duck 
 Creek ; made my way to the Louisburg and Franklin 
 Pike, and started towards Franklin. Before we got to 
 the pickets we took to the woods, and thus got round the 
 pickets. A farmer reported having seen me to the guard, 
 
134 THE NIGHT OF THE BATTLE OF BALL's BLXJFP. 
 
 and I was taken again towards Yan Dorn's head-quarters, 
 six miles distant. I had gone about one mile, when I fell 
 in with Colonel Lewis' command; and was turned over to 
 an orderly-sergeant, with whom I was acquainted, and 
 by t^hom I was taken to the head-quarters of Colonel 
 Lewis. There I was discharged from arrest, and was 
 told by the colonel what route I should take in order to 
 avoid the scouts, which I did, and finally arrived, safely 
 within the Union lines." 
 
 THE IJIGET OP THE BATTLE OP BALL'S BLUPP. 
 
 It was a gloomy night in Washington. One of the 
 unexp'ected and heart-chilling disasters which befell the 
 Union arms in the early history of the war had that day 
 happened at Ball's Bluff (October 21, 1861). Our forces 
 had been routed and slaughtered, and the gallant Colonel 
 Baker, who had left the Senate-chamber to lead his 
 splendid California Eegiment to the war, had fallen, dying 
 instantly, pierced at the same second by seven bullets. 
 This was a national loss. His place in the army, in the 
 Senate, in the hearts of the people of California and Ore- 
 gon, in the admiration of his companions-in-arms in 
 Mexico, and in the realms of eloquence, would remain 
 vacant. N"o man living was invested with all these rare 
 and great attributes in so eminent a degree. The appa- 
 rently well-founded suspicion that he had fallen a victim 
 to the foulest treason subsequently mingled the intensest 
 indignation with inconsolable grief for his cruel and un- 
 timely death. 
 
 It was late in the evening when the news reached 
 Willard's; but a large crowd was still there, among 
 whom, as always, were many well-known public men. 
 In those days secession was more popular in Washington 
 than it has since been or is likely ever to become again. 
 JSTot only was some slimy spy lurking within earshot of 
 
THE NIGHT OF THE RATTLE OF BALL*S BLUFF. 135 
 
 every man worth tracking, but there were scores of strong 
 sympathizers with the rebellion, who caught with avidity 
 the first rumor of disaster to the national arms. 
 
 These abettors and agents of Davis wore the mask as 
 closely as they could ; and although the habitues of 'the 
 capital could tell them at a glance, and by an instinct of 
 loyalty nearly infallible, knew when one of them entered 
 the room, yet on some occasions the sudden announce- 
 ment of bad news for our cause threw them from their 
 guard, and the gleam of fiendish delight flashed from 
 their faces. 
 
 " Baker was killed at Ball's Bluff this afternoon." 
 
 Never did news transform men's countenances quicker. 
 One class j-eceived it with blank amazememt and horror, 
 the other, with demoniac exultation. 
 
 Words fell which neither party could restrain ; and 
 the blood of the coolest began to boil Avhen they heard 
 the murdered Baker's name insulted. A movement was 
 made which bolder men than traitors would not have 
 attempted to resist. The villains started, by a common 
 impulse, for the l^wo doorways, or that mosaic pavement 
 would have worn another color within ten seconds. A 
 minute later, the place was cleansed ; the unclean spirit 
 had gone out ! — all but one, perhaps. 
 
 A very red-faced, stalwart man, who had stood by and 
 seen all that had been going on without saying a word, 
 finally remarked, with a pretty determined air, that " as 
 br himself he didn't care much about the fisrht. He lived 
 on the Lower Mississippi, and the people down his way 
 could take care of themselves. As long as they owned 
 the Mississippi, the d — d abolitionists could make all the 
 muss they pleased. We hold the Gulf of Mexico, and 
 the Northwest, and the Yankees may be d — d." 
 
 A very tall, lean, awkward, bony-looking man sidled 
 quietly up to the Mississippian, and, putting his nose, by 
 a stoop, quite close to his face^ said, in unmistakable /ar- 
 Western brogue — 
 
136 THE NIGHT OF THE BATTLE OF BALL's BLUFF. 
 
 " Look here, stranger," and gently emphasizing his re- 
 mark by taking the stranger's left ear between his thumb 
 and finger ; " now you may not know it, but I live in 
 Minnesoty, and we make that Mississippi water you call 
 yourn, and we kalkilate to use it some." 
 
 The stranger's hand moved pretty quick for a side- 
 pocket, but not quite quick enough. I saw a movement, 
 I heard a blow, and the blood spattered surrounders 
 slightly. In less time than such enterprises usually re- 
 quire, the stranger had fallen heavily on the marble floor, 
 striking his head against an iron column, and remaining 
 in a condition which rendered it desirable to have his 
 friends look after him, if he had any. 
 
 The Western gentleman was congratulated — when he 
 apologized, '' I didn't want to hurt the feller, and I didn't 
 care about his bowie-knife going through me, nother. 
 But the tarnal traitor must let the old country alone, and 
 ^artickilarly that big river. We want to use that thar, 
 out West." 
 
 Baker's body was brought across the Potomac the even- 
 ing he fell. It rested all day, and then by ambulance was 
 conveyed to Washington, and carried through the same 
 hospitable doorway of his friend Colonel Webb, from 
 whose steps I had parted with him as he mounted his 
 horse and gave us his warm, earnest hand only two or 
 three mornings before ! Oh, how radiant was his face ! 
 how athletic and symmetrical his form ! how unsullied 
 his ambition ! how pure his devotion to God and country ! 
 
 " God spare his life, at least !" we said, as we saw him 
 disappear around the corner ! This prayer Heaven could 
 not grant. 
 
 The following day, Avhen the last preparations for the 
 tomb had been made, we went to gaze once more, and 
 forever, on what of earth remained of the form which so 
 lately enshrined the nobla spirit. 
 
 " Then mournfully tlie parting bugle "bid 
 
 Its farewell o'er the grave." ** 
 
INCIDENTS OF FORT PICKENS. 13^ 
 
 California claimed her hero and statesman, and his 
 ashes now repose on the calm shore of that ocean which 
 washes the western base of the empire for whose glory 
 he lived and died. His body lies in Lone Mountain 
 Cemetery, rtear the city of San Francisco, and over it will 
 rise one of the most superb monuments which the genius 
 of Art has ever erected in honor of human greatness. 
 
 IIJOIBENTS OF PORT PICKENS. 
 
 I went to visit the Fort. Took a circuit first of the 
 covered way, then of the parapet and ramparts. All 
 around" the Fort, inside and out, were marks of the ene- 
 my's shot and shell. On the glacis, here and there, are 
 deep grooves, ending in a large hole, where the shot had 
 plumped into it, and where had been shell which had 
 burst. The hole was a great excavation, into which you 
 could drive an ox-cart. Where the projectiles have struck 
 the standing walls, they have clipped oft* patches of the 
 brick-work (it is a brick and not a stone fort) perhaps 
 eight or ten feet deep, and, where they struck the corners^ 
 larger portions have been removed ; but in no case has 
 any part of the fortifications received an injury tending 
 in the least to weaken it, and this after two days' heavy 
 firing. 
 
 The only man who was killed outright during the two 
 days' action, was an artilleryman, who was passing into 
 the casemates with some bread from the bake-house. A 
 shell exploded at the other side of the area, and one piece, 
 flying a distance of some two or three hundred feet, passed 
 through his body, xinder his arms. He walked a few 
 steps and fell dead. 
 
 There were many almost miraculous escapes. A shell 
 was heard coming toward a gun on the parapet, and the 
 men' dodged under their bomb-proofs. The shell hit fair 
 on top of the bomb-proof, went through, and dropped into 
 
138 INCIDENTS OP PORT PICKENS. 
 
 a pail of water beside the officer, where it exploded. 
 When the men came out again to resume their work, all 
 they saw of the officer was his heels sticking out of a 
 pile of rubbish. After digging, him out, they stood 
 amazed to see that he was not even hurt. He rose up, 
 shook the sand from his 'hair and clothes, and coolly 
 said — 
 
 *' Come, come ! what are you standing there gaping at ? 
 Load that gun, there." At it they w^nt again, as if nothing 
 had happened. 
 
 Another officer, who had charge of a battery of mor- 
 tars, had no less than seventeen shells strike within ten 
 yards of him. I saw the ground ploughed up in every 
 direction, and yet not a man was hurt. About twenty of 
 the men, who had been relieved from theit guns, were 
 sitting smoking and watching the firing in a corner pro- 
 tected from shot by the walls, when half of a huge shell 
 struck and buried itself right in the middle of the group, 
 withoLit disturbing them in the least. 
 
 " What's that ?" asked one. 
 
 " The devil knows, and he won't tell," indifferently re- 
 sponded another, and went on smoking. 
 
 A ten-inch columbiad came rolling toward a group, 
 the fuse whizzing and smoking. 
 
 '' Wonder if that'll hit us ?" 
 
 " Guess not ; we're too near it !" Crack went the shell ! 
 flying in every direction, but "fortunately escaping them 
 ail. 
 
 The rebel powder was poor ; as also their shot, except 
 that portion which they succeeded in stealing before the 
 rebellion broke out. Their practice, however, was said 
 to be good — how could it have been otherwise ? Uncle 
 Sam taught them at his unparalleled school at West 
 Point, but with little thought that the teaching would be 
 thus employed. 
 
A STRANGE SIGHT IN BATTLE. 139 
 
 A STEANGE DUEL. 
 
 A distingnished duel occurred on tlie battle-field of 
 Fort Donelson, between one of Col. Birge's sharpshooters 
 and a crack shot inside the enemy's fortifications. Both 
 fired accurately, but both concealed their persons as 
 much as possible, and endeavored to deceive each other 
 by putting their hats on their ramrods, and thrusting their 
 coats from behind the fortifications or the trees. What- 
 ever was exposed, almost invariably received a bullet ; 
 but the two were so wary and skilful, that it seemed they 
 might fire until doomsday without danger to either. 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon, however, the rebel, 
 forgetful of' prudence, thrust his head over the breast- 
 works, thinking, no doubt, as his enemy had not fired for 
 five minutes, that he might be dead. The movement was 
 fatal. His head was not exposed five seconds, but in 
 that brief period the sharpshooter's ball passed into the 
 rebel's brajn, and stretched him out a corpse, before the 
 unfortunate fellow had been able to determine where his 
 enemy was lurking, or by whose hand he was destined to 
 fall. . 
 
 A STKAITG-E SIGHT Of BATTLE. 
 
 At the battle of Stone Eiver, Tennessee, while the men 
 were lying beliind a crest waiting,- a brace of frantic wild 
 turkeys, so paralyzed with fright that they were incapa- 
 ble of flying, ran between the lines and endeavored to 
 hide among the men. But the frenzy among the turkeys 
 was not so touching as the exquisite fright of the birds 
 and rabbits. When the roar of battle rushed through the 
 cedar thickets, flocks .of little birds fluttered and circled 
 above the field in a state of utter bewilderment, and 
 scores of rabbits fled for protection to the men lying down 
 
140 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 in line on tlie left, nestliiig under their coats and creeping 
 under their legs in a state of utter distraction. They 
 hopped over the field like toads, and as perfectly tamed 
 by fright as household pets. Many officers witnessed it, 
 remarking it as one of the most curious spectacles ever 
 seen upon a battle-field. 
 
 •' HEEOISM IE THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 The surgeon said, " He can hardly live." 
 
 He laid the hand down softly, and left this patient, to 
 pass through the ward. 
 
 It seemed to say that all that earth could do had been 
 done, to save the life of the gallant young soldier. I fol- 
 lowed the surgeon a few steps on the routine of duty. 
 "We stopped, and looked each other in the face. He knew 
 I wanted to know the Avhole truth. 
 
 " Must the boy die ?" 
 
 " There is a shadow of a chance. I will come^again after 
 midnio^ht." 
 
 I went back, with a heavy heart, to the cot we had left, 
 and, knowing something of hospitals and dying men, I 
 sat down to wait and see what new symptoms would 
 occur, with the full directions of the surgeon in any 
 event. 
 
 The opiate, or whatever it may have been, which I had 
 last administered, could not take effect at once ; and some- 
 what worn out with the day's labors, I sat down to think. 
 To sleep was out of the question ; for I had become so 
 deeply interested in this young" man it seemed to me I 
 could not give him up. 
 
 It was nearly midnight. The gas had been turned off 
 just enough to leave the light needed, and tVilight was 
 grateful to the sick room ; for in this vast chamber there 
 were more than two hundred sick men. Now and then 
 came a suppressed moan from one couch, or a low plaint 
 
HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 141 
 
 of hopeless pain — while at intervals tlirilled from the high 
 ceiling the shrill scream of agony. But all the while the 
 full harvest-moon was pouring in all the lustrous sympathy 
 and elYulgence it could give, as it streamed over the mar- 
 ble pile called the Patent Office, the unfinished north 
 wing of which had been dedicated to this house of suf- 
 fering. 
 
 Almost noiselessly, the doors of this ward opened every 
 few moments, for the gentle tread of the night nurses, who 
 came, in their sleepless vigils, to see if in these hours 
 they could render some service still to the stricken, the 
 fallen, and yet not comfortless. 
 
 Leaving my young friend for a few moments, I walked 
 through the north aisle ; and it seemed to me — so perfect 
 was the regime of the hospital, so grand was its architec- 
 tural proportions — more like walking through some 
 European cathedral by moonlight, than through a place 
 for sick soldiers. The silence greater than speech, the 
 suffering unexpressed, the heroism which did not utter 
 one complaint, the completeness of the whole systern. of 
 care and curative process, made one of those sights and 
 scenes which I would not tear away from my memory 
 if I could ; for they have mingled themselves with asso- 
 ciations that will link each month and year of time to 
 come with all the months and years gone before them. 
 
 I felt a strange interest in this young raan whom I had 
 left in what I supposed was his last quiet slumber ; and 
 yet I knew he would wake once more before he died. I 
 approached his cot again. He was still sleeping, and so 
 tranquilly I felt a little alarmed lest he might never wake 
 till I had touched his pulse and found it still softly beat- 
 ing. 
 
 I let him sleep, and I thought I would sit by his side 
 till the surgeon came. 
 
 I took a long, free breath, for I supposed it was all hope- 
 lessly over. Then I thought of his strange history : — I 
 knew it well. 
 
142 HEROISM^ IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 He was born not far from Trenton Falls— the youngest 
 son, among several brothers, of one of the brave tillers 
 of that hard soil. He had seen his family grow up nobly 
 and sturdily, under the discipline of a good religion and 
 good government, and with a determination to defend 
 both. When his country's troubles began, his first im- 
 pulse thus found expression to his brothers : " Let we 
 go ; for you are all married ; and if I fall, no matter." 
 
 He went. He had followed the standard of the Eepub- 
 lic into every battle-field where the str.uggle carried him, 
 till, worn out, but not wounded, he was borne to this hos- 
 pital in Washington, a sick boy. He seemed to have a 
 charmed life, for on several occasions his comrades had 
 been shot dead or wounded on either side ; and when his 
 last cartridge had done execution, he carried off two of 
 his wounded companions from the field, bearing them and 
 their muskets to the rear — if there were a rear to the flight 
 from the Bull Eun of July, '61 — and nourished and 
 watched and stood by these comrades till they died, and 
 then got the help of a farmer to carry them with his cart, 
 a whole day afterward, to be buried in a place which he 
 chose. 
 
 The boy's example had inspired that farmer with such 
 benevolence — if he were not inspired by patriotism al- 
 ready — that he made honored graves for them ; and the 
 Writer of this work hnows where their ashes rest. 
 
 When this was all over, the boy came back, as a kind 
 of rear-guard, of one, in the flight of the army of the 
 Potomac, and, having reached the city of Washington 
 and reported himself to his commander, fell senseless on 
 Pennsylvania Avenue. He was taken to a neighboring 
 house and well cared for ; and I saw him in the hospital 
 of which I have spoken. 
 
 But this was only his life as a soldier. There was 
 another and a deeper life than that. The great loadstone 
 that had led him away was the magnet of his nation. 
 
HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. • 143 
 
 Anotlier loadstone held his heart at home; it was the 
 magnet of Love. 
 
 His wild and wayward historjr — wild only with ad- 
 venture and wayward only with romance, he seemed to 
 me, as I looked upon his face, so calm, and chiselled into 
 sculptured beauty — I thought, either he looked like an 
 Apollo with his unstrung bow, or a nautilus, cast on the 
 turbulent ocean, to be wafted to some unknown clime, or 
 sink forever, on the floor of the deep sea, to find a coral 
 sepulchre. 
 
 His dark eyelashes — bent up in such cAear relief against 
 their white ground — slowly and calmly began to rnove. 
 
 I sprang to my feet ; for it seemed to me there was a 
 chance yet. 
 
 The surgeon was long in coming ; and yet I knew he 
 would come. He did. His sharp and experienced eye, 
 as he approached the cot, opened with surprise. Touch- 
 ing my shoulder, he said, with surprise — 
 
 " He is still alive," 
 
 In an instant, taking the hand of the dying or dead 
 boy — I scarcely knew which-— a faint smile passed over 
 the surgeon's face. 
 
 " I am not sure but he may come up yet. If he revives, 
 there is one chance left for him, if it be but one in a 
 thousand. But I will work for that chance, and see what 
 it will come to. ' Here Art triumphs, if it triumphs at 
 all.' " 
 
 The pulse seemed to be coming as he took the hand. 
 
 "It acts strangely; but. I have seen two or three cases 
 very much like it. Mind you, I do not think we can do 
 much with this case ; but you stay and watch, and I will 
 come back in half an hour. 
 
 So, while he went through some other wards, I watched 
 the patient. The last glimmer of life, which had given 
 some light as this scene was being enacted, faded into 
 what seemed to me the calmest repose of death. 
 
144 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 But then, I thouglit, it is a strange sight, a heart filled 
 with the earnest passions of youth, in the first hopes of 
 life budding into their fruition beneath his own primeval 
 forest-shades, where if there be an element that ever 
 sanctified an early life it would have built a sanctuary — 
 for the love he must have borne to the fair being for 
 whom he had treasured up his boyhood's jewels, for whom 
 he gave up everything of the earth earthy, to rescue a 
 Eepublic, and then go back after this episode of suffering 
 to inaugurate the life of a citizen farmer on the bleak 
 hills of New Ycfrk : — if all this could not sustain -him, 
 what could ? 
 
 In former visits to him he had made me his confidant 
 in regard to these matters. He seemed to be haunted 
 with the idea that he would, after all, return to Utica, 
 and once more see those he loved ; and yet he also seemed 
 to me like one whose days were numbered, and the sur- 
 geon had told me, after repeated counsels with his profes- 
 sional brethren, that it was next to impossible to save his 
 life, and that I must not expect it. 
 
 All the while I clung to the belief that some vitality 
 of faith, or love, or hope, or patriotism, or divine aid, 
 would still send that boy back to the banks of the Mo- 
 hawk. 
 
 I saw another nervous twitch around the temples. I 
 felt his pulse. It was an indication of hope, or sudden 
 death. 
 
 The surgeon came by again. 
 
 '' That boy has wonderful vitality," he said, as he looked 
 at his face. Whether it was purely my fancy, my hope, 
 or a fact, I did not know, but twilight seemed to pass' 
 over his face. 
 
 "Yes, yes — I — I — wait — a moment.' Oh, I shall not die !" 
 
 He opened his eyes calml}^, and then a glow, which I 
 shall never forget suffused his cheek, and, lifting his 
 emaciated hands for the first time in -several weeks — ■ 
 feebly, it is true, but they seemed to me strong — he ex- 
 
HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 145 
 
 claimed, in a natural voice, " How floats tlie old flag now, 
 boys?" 
 
 The transition from death to life seemed like enchant- 
 ment. I could scarcely believe my senses. And yet I 
 knew that if he ever rallied this would be the way. 
 
 I now feared that his excitement would carry him be- 
 yond his strength. I could not keep him from talking. 
 I was bending over him to see if he would remember me. 
 Looking me steadily in the eyes, his brows knit with per- 
 plexity for a few seconds, when with a smile of delight 
 
 and surprise he said, " Yes ! yes ! it is you, Mr. L . I 
 
 am glad you sta^^ed with me. I have been dreaming 
 about you while I've been asleep ; and I must have been 
 asleep a great Avhile. How long ?" 
 
 I told him enough to let him understand how ill he 
 had been, how long, and how weak he still was. Pie did 
 not realize it. His eyes wandered down to his thin hands, 
 white as alabaster, and through which the pale-blue 
 thread-like veins wandered. 
 
 " Oh ! is it I ? — so lean ? I was not so Avhen I fell sick." 
 And large tears rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 I implored him to be quiet and rest, and I promised 
 him he should get better every day, and be able to go 
 home in a short time. • But he grew impatient the more 
 I tried to soothe and restrain him. 
 
 He looked at me beseechingly, and asked, " Won't you 
 let me talk a little ? I must know something more, or 
 it seems to me I shall go crazy. Please put your ear 
 down to me ; I won't speak loud — I won't get excited." 
 
 I did. " Have you got any letters for me ?" 
 
 ^' Yes, but they are at my ofS.ce. You shall have them 
 to-morrow. They are ail well at home." 
 
 "And Bella?" 
 
 " Yes.". 
 
 " Oh, God be praised !" 
 
 After a few moments of repose, he again opened his 
 eyes wide. 
 10 
 
146 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. 
 
 " I have been gone so long from tlie army 1 It seemed 
 as though I never coulel get back when I got home. I 
 got away ; and I wandered, and wandered — Oh ! how 
 tired I was! Where is McDowell? — Is General Scott 
 dead? They said so. Did they carry off Old Abe? 
 How did he get back ? Did the rebels get into Wash- 
 ington that night ? How long have I been sick ? What 
 place is this ? — Oh, my head ! my head I" 
 
 I was frightened. He had risen from the deep ocean 
 into the sunlight for a brief hour, and now he seemed to 
 be going down to come up no more. The tender chord 
 of memory had given way. In a little while the surgeon 
 came by, and I told him what had happened. 
 
 " 1 was afraid of that. But I think we can manage it. 
 If he wakes again within two hours, give him this powder 
 on his tongue, and a sip of the liquid. If he does- not, 
 wake him gently." 
 
 And so that anxious night wore away. In the morn- 
 ing he woke bright and clear ; and from that hour he 
 began to get well. But for whole days his life was pul- 
 sating^ in its gossamer tenement, fluttering over the misty 
 barriers of the spirit- world. 
 
 Bella's letters, received during his extreme illness, could 
 now be read. They were among the noblest ever written 
 by woman. 
 
 "Our heart-prayers for you," they said, "have been an- 
 swered by our Father. We now wait only for your re- 
 turn. When we parted it was not with repining; you 
 had gone to the altar of youy country in solemn and com- 
 plete dedication. I too was prepared for the sacrifice. I 
 expected it, although I knew how crushingly the blow 
 w^ould fall. But if you had not loved your country bet- 
 ter than Bella, it would have broken her heart. I hope 
 now in a few weeks you will be again by my side. When 
 your health is once more restored, I will promise in ad- 
 vance, as you desire, not to try to keep you from rejoin- 
 ing your regiment; and if the stars have written that* 
 
JOE PARSONS, THE MARYLAND BOY. 141 
 
 Walter shall not be my husband, God has decreed that I 
 shall die a widow never married." 
 
 He did return to the Mohawk Yalley. He married 
 Bella. He returned to the war ; and on the eve of the 
 great day of Antietam he heard that his son was born, 
 and the hero-father died by the side of Hooker. 
 
 IMPUDENT COOLNESS. 
 
 In the midst of an engagement with the rebels, eighteen 
 miles from Newtonia, Mo., G*n. Schofield sent Lieutenant 
 Bloodfelt attended by an orderly, with orders to Colonel 
 Hall, Fourth Missouri Cavalry, to move to the left and 
 attack in that direction. The route of the lieutenant was 
 across a point of woods, in which, while passing, he sud- 
 denly found himself facing about forty rebels drawn up 
 in irregular line.* Without a moment's hesitation, he and 
 'the orderly drew their pistols and charged. At the same 
 time, tempering bravery with mercy, and not feeling any 
 desire to shed blood needlessly, he drew out his handker- 
 chief and waved it in token of his willingness to surround 
 and capture the whole rebel force rather than shoot them 
 down. 
 
 The cool /impudence of the act nonplussed the foe, and 
 perhaps thinking there was a large force in the rear, eight 
 of them threw down their arms and surrendered, and the 
 balance, "skedaddled." 
 
 JOE PAESONS, THE MAEYLAND BOY. 
 
 Joe enlisted in the First Maryland regiment, and was 
 plainly a " rough" originally. As we passed along the 
 hall we first saw him crouched near an open window, 
 lustily singing, " I'm a bold soldier hof,^^ and observing 
 the broad bandage over his eyes, I said — 
 
148 JOE PARSONS, THE MARYLAND BOY. 
 
 " Wliat's your name, my good fellow ?" 
 
 "Joe, sir," lie answered, "Joe Parsons." 
 
 "And what is tlie matter with you?" 
 
 " Blind, sir, blind as a bat." 
 
 "In battle?" 
 
 " Yes, at Antietam ; both eyes shot out at one clip." 
 Poor Joe was in the front at Antietam Creek, and a Minie 
 ball had passed directly through his eyes, across his face, 
 destroying his sight forever. He was but twenty years 
 old, but he was as happy as a lark ! 
 
 "' It is dreadful," I said. 
 
 " I'm very thankful I'm ^ive, sir. It might ha' been 
 •worse, yer see," he continued. And then he told us his 
 story. ; 
 
 " I was hit," he said, " and it knocked me down. I lay 
 there all night, and the next day the fight was renewed. 
 I could stand the pain, yer see, but the balls was. flyin' 
 all round, and I wanted to get away. I couldn't see 
 nothin,' though. So I waited and listened ; and at last I 
 heard a feller groanin' beyond rae. 
 
 " ' Hello I' says I. 
 
 " ' Heillo, yourself,' says he. 
 
 " ' Who be yer ?' says I — ' a rebel ?' 
 
 '' ' You're a Yankee,' says he. 
 
 " ' So I am,' says I. ' What's the matter with you V 
 
 " ' My leg's smashed,' says he. 
 
 "^ Can't yer walk?' 
 
 "'No.' 'Can't yer see?' 
 
 "'Yes.' 
 
 "'Well,' says I, 'you're a rebel, but will you do 
 
 me a little favor?' 
 
 "'I will,' says he, 'ef Iken.' 
 
 " Then I says : ' Well, ole butternut, I can't see nothin'. 
 My eyes is knocked out ; but I ken walk. Come over 
 ye re. Let's git out o' this. You p'int the way, an' I'll 
 tote yer off the field on my back.' 
 
 "'Bally for you,' says he. 
 
A LOYAL PIGEON. 149 
 
 " And so we managed to get together. We shook hands 
 on it. I took a wink outer his canteen, and he got on 
 to my shoulders. 
 
 " I did the walkin' for both, an' he did the navigatin'. 
 An' ef he didn't make me carry him straight into a rebel 
 colonel's tent, a mile away, I'm a liar ! Hows'ever the 
 colonel came up, an' says he, ' Whar d'yer come from ? 
 who be yer ?' I told him. He said I was done for, and 
 couldn't do no more shoot'n ; and he sent me over to our 
 lines. So, after three days, I came down here with the 
 wounded boys, where we're doin' pretty well, all things, 
 considered." 
 
 " But you will never see the light again, my poor fellow," 
 I suggested, sympathetically. 
 
 "That's so,' he answered, glibly, "but I can't help it, 
 you notice. I did my dooty — got shot, pop in the eye — 
 an' that's my misfort'n, not my fault — as the old man said 
 of his blind hoss. 
 
 " But — ' I'm a bold soldier boy,' " he continued, cheerily 
 renewing his song ; and we left him in his -singular mer- 
 riment. Poor, sightless, nnlftcky, but stout-hearted Joe • 
 Parsons. 
 
 A LOYAL PiaEON. 
 
 The following is a true and singularly remarkable story 
 of a pigeon captured by Mr. Tinker, a teamster of the 
 Forty- second New York Volunteers, while the regiment 
 was encamped at Kalorama Heights, Va. Mr. Tinker 
 made a pet of him, and kept him in camp until they 
 started for Poolesville. Strange to say, the pigeon fol- 
 lowed on with the train, occasionally flying away at a 
 great distance, but always returning, and, when weary, 
 Would alight on some wagon of the train. 
 
 At night he was sure to come home, and watching his 
 opportunity, would select a position, and quietly go to 
 roost in Tinker's wagon. 
 
'x60 GATHERING IN THE CONTRABANDS. 
 
 Many of tlie men in the regiment took a fancy to him, 
 and he soon became a general favorite, from Poolesville 
 he followed to Washington, and down to the dock, where 
 Tinker took him on board the steamer ; so he went to 
 Fortress Monroe, thence to Yorktown, where he was ac- 
 customed to make flights over and beyond the enemy's 
 works, but was always sure to return at evening, to roost 
 and receive his food at Tinker's wagon. From thence 
 he went all through the Peninsular campaign, afterwards 
 to Antietam, and Harper's Ferry, witnessing all the bat- 
 tles fought by his regiment. 
 
 By this time he had gained so much favor, that a 
 friend offered twenty-five dollars to purchase him, but 
 Tinker would not sell him at any price, #,nd soon after 
 sent him home as a present to some friend. It might be 
 interesting to trace the future movements of this remark- 
 able specimen of the feathered tribe, but none will doubt 
 his instinctive loyalty and attachment to the old Tammany 
 regiment. 
 
 GATHERING m THE CONTKABANDS. 
 
 * 
 
 Our Southern brethren have been sensitive upon the 
 negro-labor question from the commencement of the 
 rebellion. As a general rule, they preferred losing or 
 lending a horse rather than a slave. They feared army 
 influences upon their chattel — that he would become " a 
 mean nigger." Of course the same difficulty would not 
 
 .arise in the army education of the horse or mule. For 
 this reason it is — at least, we can conceive of no other — ■ 
 that the rebel planter has often fled, at short notice, with 
 his negroes, leaving wife, children, mules, hogs, and 
 
 , household goods to the mercy of the invading Northmen. 
 At the outset the negroes were crammed with 'most awful 
 accounts of the ways of the savage Yankees, and many 
 of the poor creatures were equally eager with their 
 masters to fly from us. 
 
# 
 
 GATHERING IN THE CONTRABANDS. 151 
 
 Thus premising, we have to relate an amusing affair 
 which occurred at Nashville in the fall of 1862. Upon 
 the commencement of the fortifications in that city, orders 
 were given to impress all able-bodied male negroes, to be 
 put at work upon the forts. The slaveholders of the city 
 at once began to secrete their negroes in, cellars and by- 
 ways. The Federal officers said nothing, but resolved to • 
 bide their time — their gangs upon the works, meanwhile, 
 singing and wheeling away quite merrily. After several 
 days all sensation subsided, and an occasional colored 
 individual would be seen at an open window or shuffling 
 around a street-corner. 
 
 At length the time for action was at hand. A fine 
 Sabbath camef and with it a large congregation of pious 
 negroes, in all their Sunday array and perfumery. They 
 felt in fine feather ; for was not the city being fortified 
 and defended, and the day of jubilee for the colored race 
 close at hand ? A hymn flowed out in harmonious ca- 
 dence, equal in volume to the rolling flood of the Cumber- 
 land. A prayer was offered with great earnestness and 
 unction, and the preacher had chosen his text, when lo ! 
 an apparition appeared at the door — yes, several of them ! 
 A guard of blue-coated soldiers, with muskets, entered, 
 and announced to the startled brethren that the services 
 of the evening would be concluded at Fort Kegley. Out 
 went the lights, as if by magic, and there v/as a general 
 dive for the windows. Shrieks, howls, and imprecations 
 went forth to the ears of darkness, rendering night truly 
 hideous. Fancy bonnets were mashed, ribbons were 
 rumpled, and the destruction of negro finery was enor- 
 mous. 
 
 Some reached the windows .and crawled out, and into 
 the hands of guards who were waiting outside. The 
 shepherd of the flock was thus caught, it is said, while 
 making a dive through the window, head first, butting 
 over two " bold soger boys " as he came out. The scene 
 was amusing indeed. And the mext morning it jvas still 
 
152 JOHN morgan's female spy. 
 
 more comical — the same crowd being at work at tlie fort, 
 dressed in their mussed and bedirtied finery of the pre- 
 vious evening, in which they had slept upon the earth- 
 works — they, meanwhile, being the jeer and sport of their 
 surrounding darkey acquaintances. 
 
 It is due to these colored laborers of Nashville to add 
 that by their labor, during some three months' time, Fort 
 Negley and other fortifications were built. They cut the 
 stone, laid the stone wall, wheeled and carted the earth, 
 blasted the rock; and they performed their work cheer- 
 fully and zealously, and without any pay, except their 
 daily rations and perhaps some clothing. 
 
 SOKE KOWAWB PEMALE SPY. 
 
 On the 16th of pecemb.er, 1862, while the rebel army 
 was at Murfreesborough and the Army of the Cumber- 
 land at Nashville, a lady of middle age and fine personal 
 appearance was walking along the road leading from the 
 former to the latter place. Between Lavergne and Nash- 
 ville, not far from the Federal pickets, she was overtaken 
 by a gentleman named Blythe — a Union man and a pa- 
 roled prisoner —who had that day procured a pass from 
 General Bragg to go to Nashville in his buggy. Seeing 
 that she was weary with long walking, he invited her to 
 ride, and they proceeded in company about three.- foul'ths 
 of a mile, when they came upon a party of Federal and 
 rebel officers, consulting about some matter under a flag of 
 truce. Blythe, because of his parole, was allowed to pass 
 within the lines, but the lady was detained outside until 
 her case could be submitted to head-quarters and per- 
 mission obtained for her entry. While thus delayed, 
 Blythe overheard Lieutenant Hawkins, in charge of a 
 rebel flag, saying to her in a cautiously modulated voice, 
 " If they won't let you in, you can go across the countr}^ 
 —about four miles — to my father's, and there they will 
 
JOHN morgan's female SPY. 153 
 
 run you tlirougli the lines anyhow." This aroused his sus- 
 picions, and determined him to report her case at the Police 
 Office, with his ideas of her character, and the suggestion 
 that a strict watch be maintained upon her movements. 
 
 The next afternoon she was brought in, and im- 
 mediately sent to head- quarters. Here she gave her name 
 as Mrs. Clara Jud^l, the widow of an Episcopal clergyman 
 w^ho had died the year previous, leaving herself and seven 
 children, without property and in debt. She was on her 
 return from Atlanta, Georgia, whither she had been on 
 a visit to her son, a boy, who was living there and learn- 
 ing the printing business. She wished to go to Minnesota, 
 where the remainder of her children were, and where she 
 then claimed to reside. Her story was told in so simple, 
 artless a manner, and with such an air of sincerity, that 
 the sympathies of all present were at once enlisted in her 
 favor — it not being in the heart of man to doubt, for a 
 moment, the truth of all she said. The examination 
 ended, a pass was given her to Louisville, and she was 
 alloAved to depart in peace. From the Police Office she 
 made her way to the Commercial Hotel, where she ex- 
 pected to meet an old friend, but, finding that he was out 
 of the city, and that the hotel was too full to obtain 
 lodgings, she went to a sutler of her acquaintance, named 
 Becker. He also was absent; but she remained over- 
 night with his partner and wife — Mr. and Mrs. Beaden. 
 Knowing that Blythe was at the Commercial Hotel, she 
 wrote him a note, requesting him to call and see her on 
 important private business. 
 
 Early in the evening Blj^he called at the police de- 
 partment, inquiring if Mrs. Judd had come in, and was 
 told that she had just gone, a pass having been issued to 
 her. He seemed disappointed, and remarked that they 
 had been fooled — that in his opinion her story was essen- 
 tially false, and she a bad woman, whom it would be well 
 to watch. His reasons for so thinking were freely given, 
 and; though they did not entirely destroy the con:Sidence 
 
154 JOHN morgan's female spy. 
 
 she had inspired, they served to weaken it materially, 
 and to excite doubts as to the truth of her statements and 
 the honesty of her intentions. Returning to his hotel, the 
 note from^ Mrs. Judd there awaiting him fully confirmed 
 his previously-formed opinions. So strong were they 
 now, and so solicitous was he to fathom and disclose the 
 mischief which he felt to be brewing, that he again went 
 to the police office that evening, taking the "note with 
 him, and exhibiting it to the authorities there. He was 
 advised to call as requested, and endeavor to ascertain 
 her true character and designs. He did so, and found 
 her at Mr. Beaden's, as stated. After some unimportant 
 conversation, she said to him, "Are you loyal?" His 
 decidedly affirmative answer she construed to mean that 
 he was a friend to the South and favorable to its cause. 
 It may here be explained that, though Blythe at his first 
 meeting did not recognize her, she at once remembered 
 having seen him at Murfreesborough, where he had been 
 detained some eight or nine weeks before he was allowed 
 to proceed to ISTashville. As he seemed while there to be 
 under no restraint whatever, she knew nothing of his 
 being a paroled prisoner and a Northern man. The fact 
 of his having a pass from General Bragg, taken in con- 
 nection with certain remarks casually made by him, was 
 to her proof positive that he was a Southerner and a rebel. 
 To this very natural mistake she was indebted for all the 
 misfortune that eventually befell her. 
 
 Completely self-deceived, she immediately took him 
 into her confidence, and entered upon an explanation of 
 her business and plans. She was going, she said, to 
 Louisville, for the purpose of purchasing quinine and 
 other medicines for the Southern Confederacy, together 
 with a considerable amount of dry goods and groceries 
 for herself and others. But this was only a portion of her 
 business; and of no importance in comparison with the 
 remainder. John Morgan was abaut to make a raid upon 
 the Louisville and Nashville Railroad, and was only wait- 
 
JOHN morgan's female SPY. 155 
 
 ing for information as to the strength of the garrisons and 
 tlie disposition of troops along its track, necessary to de- 
 termine the most available point of attack. This infor- 
 mation she had engaged to obtain and furnish to him on 
 her return to Gallatin, where certain of his men were to 
 meet her, by appointment, on a fixed day. This day was 
 now at hand ; and accordingly she was anxious to start 
 for Louisville the next morning, so that she might have 
 ample time to purchase her goods and be back to Gallatin 
 on the day appointed. Unfortunately, however, her pass 
 did not allow her to leave Nashville until the morning 
 after, and she wished he would try and exchange it for 
 one allowing her to go on the morrow. Blythe oblig- 
 ingly consented, and further said that, as it would save 
 her a good deal of trouble in Louisville, he would get 
 her a pass to go and return as far as Gallatin. With the 
 old pass he immediately went a third time to the office, 
 stated his wish, and related the conversation that had 
 passed between hynself and Mrs. Judd. Colon-el Trues- 
 dail gave him the desired pass, and insisted upon his ac- 
 companying her to Louisville, at the same tim^ instruct- 
 ing him to afford her every facility for the perfection of 
 her plans, but to neither encourage nor restrain her. 
 
 Blythe returned with the new pass according to pro- 
 mise. In the conversation that ensued he warned her of 
 the danger of the business she was about to embark in, 
 cautioning her as to the watchfulness of the Federal 
 authorities, and endeavored to dissuade her therefrom. 
 •His advice, however, though well meant and kindly 
 enough received, was of no avail, it was her duty, she 
 said, to do all ^at she could for the South; and, as 
 they were God's chosen people, she was not afraid of any 
 harm befalling her. Seeing that '•she was determined in ^ 
 her purpose, Blythe affected a deep solicitude in her wel- 
 fare, and finally told her he would postpone his business 
 for the present and go with her to Louisville then, instead 
 of waiting a few days, as he had intended. It would be 
 
156 JOHN morgan's female spy. 
 
 a great accommodation, as well as pleasure, to liim, he 
 remarked, laughingly, for then he could sit with her in 
 the ladies' car — no small matter on a train literally 
 jammed with passengers, as that one usually was. Ma- 
 dam was highly pleased at this exhibition of kindness, 
 and with many thanks endeavored to show her gratitude 
 therefor. Thenceforward she placed implicit confidence 
 in Blythe, and unresef^^edly told him all her plans, to- 
 gether with much of her past history and experience. 
 This was her second trip, she said. The previous one 
 had been quite profitable to her, and had enabled her to 
 furnish a large amount of valuable information to the 
 rebels. 
 
 Throughout the entire journey to Louisville she was 
 ever on the alert for the smallest scrap of information. 
 At every station, out of the window would go her head, 
 and the bystanders be plied with guarded questions con- 
 cerning the strength of the place, means of defence, num- 
 ber of troops and names of regiments there, etc. Blythe 
 was evidently annoyed, and time and again pulled her 
 dress, begging her " for Grod's sake to sit down and keep 
 quiet," or she would attract attention and ruin both her- 
 self and him. She replied that it was a part — and a very 
 important part — of her business to observe, make inqui- 
 ries, and take notes— she must do it. 
 
 At Louisville Blythe paid her every attention, assisted 
 her in her purchases, introduced her to one of the best 
 dry goods houses in the city, and went with her to New 
 Albany, where she bought several hundred dollars' worth 
 of drugs and medicines. Here she was well acquainted 
 — a fact which she explained by saying that she had made 
 purchases there before. These drugs she intended to pack 
 in a trunk with a false bottom, but was told by Blythe 
 that it would not be necessary, as he would see that her 
 trunk was passed without examination. Occasionally he 
 would absent himself for several hours, accounting for 
 this by representing that he was engaged in buying a 
 
JOHN morgan's female SPY. 15Y 
 
 large stock of goods, witli whicli lie designed returning 
 immediately to Murfreesborough. One day he was taken 
 quite ill, and was attended and nursed by her in the 
 kindest manner. In addition to her confidence, he seemed 
 now to have gained her affections. She devoted herself 
 to him as only women do to those whom they love — an- 
 ticipating his slightest wishes, and providing for his every 
 want in the most warm-hearted and loving manner. 
 Blythe's pretended sickness was soon over, but it left him 
 weak ; and he wished her to remain at Louisville another 
 day. No ; she could not stay. Morgan's men had made 
 a positive engagement to meet her that night at Gallatin, 
 and she would not disappoint them for the world. She 
 was to tell them, then and there, all that she had seen and 
 heard down the road, and to advise them where to tap it. 
 In return, they were to assist her in getting her trunks 
 through the lines, which could easil}^ be done by putting 
 them in the bottom of the wagon-bed and covering them 
 with fodder. Seeing that she could not be induced to 
 remain, Blythe determined to return with her. Flattered 
 by this mark of attention and appreciation, she was highly 
 delio;hted and more affectionate than ever. Arrans^ements 
 were at once made for the journey, Blythe in the mean- 
 while visiting General Boyle, explaining the whole mat- 
 ter to him, and procuring an order dispensing with the 
 usual examination of baggage in their case, and also tele- 
 graphing to Colonel Truesdail, at Nashville, to have 
 them arrested at Mitchells ville, just before reaching Gal- 
 latin. 
 
 On the way back she was in the best of spirits, and 
 could hardly refrain from frequent exhibitions of her 
 elation at the success of their schemes. Blythe begged 
 her to be careful, or she would expose herself and him 
 to ruin. "You know," said he, "if anything should 
 happen to you it will get me into trouble, and that would 
 make you feel bad; wouldn't it?" He asked if she 
 was not afraid of being watched — if she did not think 
 
158 JOHN morgan's female spy. 
 
 sTie was already suspected — seeking by this means to 
 prepare her mind for the arrest which was soon to occur, 
 and at the same time to allay any suspicions she might 
 otherwise entertain of his complicity therein. She replied 
 that she was, and that there was then in that very car a per- 
 son whom she believed to be watching her. She betrayed 
 considerable anxiety, and seemed quite uneasy about the 
 matter for some time, but finally fell into her usual care- 
 less mood. At Mitchellsville she took on board two large 
 trunks of goods and clothing, left there on her former 
 trip because of her having had too many to get safely 
 away at that time without exciting suspicion. 
 
 Just after leaving Mitchellsville, Blythe said to her, 
 " Now, this is a dangerous business you are in ; and you 
 may not get through. At Gallatin I shall leave you, but 
 will go straight 'through to Murfreesborough ; and if you 
 have any word to sencl, I will take it with pleasure to 
 anybody you may name." In reply she wished he would 
 see lieutenant Hawkins and tell him that she had arrived 
 safely at Gallatin with her goods, but that there was a 
 larger force there than she had expected to find, and she 
 might be troubled in getting out ; or if lieutenant Haw- 
 kins was not then at Murfreesborough, he jniglit tell any 
 of Morgan's men, and their general would be sure to get 
 the news and devise some means for her assistance. At 
 this time, as well as on previous occasions, she seemed to 
 be on very intimate terms with Morgan and to rely im- 
 plicitly upon him and his followers. She further informed 
 Blythe that her home was in Winchester, Tennessee, but 
 that she was on her way to Atlanta, Georgia, where her 
 son had a situation in the Ordnance department, and that 
 the knitting-machine purchased by her was intended as 
 a pattern for the manufacture of others, there being no- 
 thing of the kind in the South. 
 
 This conversation was scarcely concluded when both 
 were arrested, and Blythe — according to previous arrange- 
 ment — roughly handled. Mrs. Judd turned very pal^. 
 
JOHN morgan's female SPY. 159 
 
 and was strangely excited ; thougli sTie seemed more af- 
 fected by Bijthe's situation and danger than her own. 
 BljthC; however, seemed to take it coolly enough, and as 
 a matter of course — which but the more increased the 
 sorrow of Mrs. Judd, it being for her only that he had 
 thus ventured and lost. But regrets were useless now, 
 and both were brought on to Nashville at once. Mrs. 
 Judd was put under guard at a hotel, and assured that 
 Blythe would be hung the next morning. At this intel- 
 ligence she became quite distracted, begged and implored 
 to be heard in his favor, asserting with broken voice and 
 tearful eyes that he was an innocent man, and that the 
 guilt and blame of the whole transaction were hers alone. 
 Making no impression upon those about her, she went so 
 far as to write and send to head-quarters a petition that 
 he might be spared from a punishment he did not de- 
 serve. Blythe, of course, was released at once ; but she 
 did not know it, and to this day remains ignorant of his 
 real fate and location. Her baggage was examined and 
 found to contain many hundred dollars' worth of contra- 
 band goods — unquestionable evidences of her guilt. 
 Among its contents was a Bible, with Blythe's name 
 written in it by herself, which she had purchased in 
 Louisville, intending to present it to him when they should 
 meet again in Murfreesborough. 
 
 The circumstances, when kno^vn, created not a little 
 excitement in army circles, and the case was personally 
 examined by the general commanding and his staff*. The 
 crime was the highest known to military law ; the import- 
 ance of the consequences involved in the success or defeat 
 of the scheme, almost incalculable. In short, it was one of 
 those little pivots on which the fortunes of a campaign 
 or the fate of an army might turn. For such an offence 
 the only adequate punishment was death ; but the person 
 implicated was a woman ; and that reverence for the sex 
 which brave men ever feel would not allow the applica- 
 tion of so extreme a penalty. To pass . her lightly by, 
 
160 INCIDENTS OP GRIERSON'S RAID. 
 
 however, could not be reconciled with ' a sense of duty ; 
 and it was deemed necessary to make an example of her, 
 by confining her in the military prison at Alton, Illinois, 
 durinoj the war. 
 
 IirOIDENTS OP GEIEESON'S EAID. 
 
 Upon one occasion, as the Union scouts were feeding 
 their horses at the stables of a wealthy planter of seces- 
 sion proclivities, the proprietor looking on, apparently 
 deeply interested in the proceeding, suddenly burst out 
 with — 
 
 " Well boys, I can't say I have anything against you. 
 I don't know but that on the whole I rather like you. 
 You have not taken anything of mine except a little corn 
 for your horses, and that you are welcome to. I have 
 heard of you all over the country. You are doing the 
 boldest thing ever done. But you'll be trapped, though ; 
 you'll be trapped, mark me." 
 
 At another place, where the men thought it advisable 
 to represent themselves as Jackson's cavalry, a whole 
 company was very graciously entertained by a strong 
 secession lady, who insisted on whipping a negro because 
 he did not bring the hoecakes fast enough. 
 
 On one occasion, »seven of Colonel Grierson's scouts 
 stopped at the house of a wealthy planter to feed their 
 jaded horses. Upon ascertaining that he had been doing 
 a little guerrilla business on his own account, our men 
 encouraged him to the belief that, as they were the in- 
 vincible Yan Dorn cavalry, they would soon catch the 
 Yankees. The secession gentleman heartily approved 
 of what he supposed to be their intentions, and enjoined 
 upon them the necessity of making as rapid marches as 
 possible. As the men had discovered two splendid car- 
 riage horses in the planter's stable, they thought under 
 
EDDY McPADDEN. 161 
 
 the circumstances, tliey would be justified in making an 
 exchange, which they accordingly proceeded to do. 
 
 As they were taking the saddles from their own tired 
 steeds and placing them on the backs of the wealthy, 
 guerrilla's horses, the proprietor discovered them, and at 
 once objected. He was met with the reply that, as he 
 was anxious the Yankees should be speedily overtaken, 
 those after them should have good horses. 
 
 *' All right, gentlemen," said the planter ; " I will keep 
 your animals until you return. I suppose you'll be back 
 in two or three days at the furthest. When you return 
 you'll find they have been well cared for." 
 
 The soldiers were sometimes asked where they got 
 their blue coats. They always replied, if they were 
 travelling imder the name of "Van Dorn's cavalry, that 
 they took them at Holly Springs of the Yankees. This 
 always excited great laughter among the secessionists. 
 The scouts, however, "asually wore the regular '"secesh" 
 uniforms. > 
 
 EDDY McPADDElT, 
 
 Two days after the battle of Shiloh, says Gen. Rous- 
 seau, I walked into the hospital tent on the ground where 
 the fiercest contest had taken place, and where many of 
 our men and those of the enemy had fallen. The hos- 
 pital was exclusively for the wounded rebels, and they 
 were laid thickly around. Many of them were Kentucki- 
 ans, of Breckinridge's command. As I stepped into 
 the tent, and spoke to some one, I was addressed by a 
 voice, the childish tone of which arrested my attention — 
 
 '' That's General Rousseau ! General, I knew your son 
 Dickey. Where is Dick ? I knew him very well." 
 
 Turning to him, I saw stretched on the ground a hand- 
 some boy about sixteen years of age. His face was a 
 bright one, but the hectic glow and flush on the cheeks, 
 11 
 
162 A BRAVE BOY AND A GALLANT SAILOR. 
 
 his restless manner, and his grasping and catching his 
 breath as he spoke, alarmed me. I knelt by his side and 
 pressed his fevered brow with my hand, and would have 
 taken the child into my arms, if I could. 
 
 "And who are you, my son ?" said I. 
 
 "Why, I am Eddy McFadden, from Louisville," was 
 the reply. "I know you, General, and I know your son 
 Dick. I've played with him. Where is Dick?" 
 
 I thought of my own dear boy, of what might have 
 befallen him ; that he, too, deluded by villains, might, 
 like this poor boy, have been mortally wounded, among 
 strangers, and left to die. My heart bled for the poor 
 child ; for he was a child ; my manhood gave way, and 
 burning tears attested, in spite of me, my intense suffer- 
 ing. I asked him of his father ; he had no father. Your 
 mother? He had no mother. Brothers and sisters? 
 
 " I have a brother," said he. " I never knew what 
 soldiering was. I was but a boy, and they got me off 
 down here." 
 
 He was shot through the shoulder and lungs. I asked 
 him what he needed. He said he was cold and the ground 
 was hard. I had no tent nor blankets ; our baggage was 
 all in the rear at Savannah. But I sent the poor boy my 
 saddle-blanket, and returned the next morning with 
 lemons for him and the rest ; but his brother in the Second 
 Kentucky regiment, had taken him over to his regiment 
 to nurse him. I never saw the child again. He died in 
 a day or two. Peace to his ashes. I never think of this 
 incident that I do not fill up as if he were my own child. 
 
 BEAYE BOY AND A GALLAITT SAILOE. 
 
 One of the powder boys on the Biergrille, Wm. Henry 
 Steele by name, deserves particular attention. He is only 
 fourteen years old, a bright, active fellow, and performed 
 his duties with signal bravery. It was his duty to hand 
 
A BRAVE BOY AND A GALLANT SAILOR. 163 
 
 cartridges to one of the gunners. "While the Bienville 
 was in the thickest of the engagement, the balls whistled 
 fiercely over the deck and splashed about in the water, 
 but he never wavered. A large rifled shot struck the 
 water some distance from the steamer, bounded upward, 
 and crashing through the beam, tore through the bodies 
 of two men standing near him at his gun, and wounded 
 two others. He handed his cartridge to the gunner, and 
 stepping over the bodies, brought a fresh supply of am- 
 munition, with which he continued his labors. 
 
 After the fight. Captain Steedman, in thanking his men 
 for their noble conduct, especially commended the bravery 
 of young Steele. During a part of the time the Bienville 
 was the mark for almost the entire fire of both rebel bat- 
 teries, and her 'crew displayed the greatest heroism. The 
 first shot fired at her struck, and was one of the most 
 serious. Her guns were in such constant use that they 
 became hot, and almost leaped from the deak at each 
 discharge. It is really wonderful that her damage is so 
 very immaterial. Beyond a liole between decks, another 
 through the beam, just at the lower part of the gunwale, 
 a cut shroud and a battered stove-pipe (not smoke-stack), 
 she is unharmed. ■ 
 
 The Wabash also came in for a large share of the fight. 
 A cannon-shot passed along her deck, and struck Thomas 
 Jackson, the coxswain. The ball nearly carried away 
 one of his legs, leaving it so that it hung only by shreds 
 of flesh and skin. Leaning against a gun, he drew out 
 his sheath-knife, and tried to cut it off entirely. The 
 knife was too dull, and his shipmates hastened to him, 
 and carried him below. He kept continually asking 
 how the fight progressed, saying, " I hope we'll win ; I 
 hope we'll beat them." He died in two hours, his last 
 words expressing happiness that he had done something 
 for his country. 
 
164 ' CHARACTERISTIC INCIDENT. 
 
 CHARAOTEKISTIO DTOIDENT. 
 
 An incident of adventure characteristic of tlie Anderson 
 Zouaves, and- of rigorous barbarism characteristic of the 
 blood-earnest warfare of these rebels. One day, Henry 
 Oehl, of company G, Anderson Zouaves, with a comrade 
 went forward to a distant farm house, to get information 
 and enlarge his topographical knowledge of Virginia. 
 The farmer came into the yard, and a conversation sprang 
 up between the three. 
 
 " Suddenly," said Oehl, " twenty rebel soldiers rose like 
 ghosts from the edge of the woods JL\st beyond the house, 
 and rushed towards us, calling to us to surrender. Not 
 being much in ~that line of business, we raised our pieces 
 and let fly at them." They ] eturned the fire. A ball 
 struck Oehl's right hand, knocked his musket out of it, 
 and entered the abdomen at the centre, and went out at 
 the left side. To run had now become a duty. Oehl 
 doubled the corner of the house, and made for the nearest 
 recesses of the White Oak Swarap, via a corn-field, and 
 the bushy covers of a line of old rail-fence. The chase 
 was a keen one. 
 
 Oehl's coolness, cunning, and courage saved him. Em- 
 bosomed in the swamp, he watched his own hurt, and 
 plugged the wound through his abdomen with his fingers. 
 Soon he saw his pursuers return to the house, talk a 
 moment with the farmer, and gesticulate forcibly to the 
 doomed man. Some seized him, and some entered his 
 house. The hidden Zouave was near enough to the build- 
 ing to catch the sounds within of the shrieking of children. 
 Immediately these rushed out of the door, followed by a 
 smoke, and soon by a flame. The ruf&ans burned the 
 Yirginian's house over his head, for the crime of talking 
 "with Northern soldiers who entered his yard. 
 
BALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BfLL. 165 
 
 SALLIE EIOHMOND AKD BEVIL BILL 
 
 The falls of the !N"ew Eiver are very fragrant; the 
 water thunders down towards the Gauley from one preci- 
 pice to another, almost continually ; pausing but a mo- 
 ment at the feet of its wild leaps, in boiling caldrons, as 
 if bewildered, and awaiting strength for new and wilder 
 leaps. Throughout its entire course in Virginia, there 
 are but a few rods of calm water. At these points are 
 fords or ferries, usually the latter. For one hundred 
 miles from the mouth of New Eiver there are but three 
 good ferries, and of course are known far and near, 
 throughout the country. The first is Eichmond Ferry, 
 and seventy -five miles from the falls of the Gauley. The 
 other two are known as Pack's Upper and Lower Ferry. 
 These ferries, then, are the only means of 'intercourse 
 between the valleys north and south of the river, and 
 necessary points of occupation to an army operating on 
 both sides of the river. Yet the rough mountain roads 
 will not admit of sufficient transportation to subsist any 
 considerable number of troop?, and the Federal forces 
 sought to maintain control of the ferries, by fi^equently 
 sending scouting parties to them and their neighborhoods, 
 while the rebel " bushwackers," and guerrilla parties, for 
 the same purpose, hovered continually around them. 
 
 While affairs stood thus, my regiment was ordered to 
 Ealeigh C. H. We found the House of the Court perfo- 
 rated with loop-holes, and every brick dwelling in the 
 village converted into an embrasured fortification, with 
 look out and all appurtenances of a besieged city. Our 
 troops had been threatened by the rebels from Eichmond 
 Ferry, during the winter, and these precautions had been 
 taken in anticipation. Shortly after our arrival at Ealeigh 
 C. H., Capt. Warner, of Union County, was detailed with 
 one hundred picked men — among whom were many of 
 the Jerome and Belle Point boys — to visit Eichmond 
 
166 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 
 
 Ferry, and cut off the retreat of a body of guerrillas, wlic 
 had made a raid on the north §ide of the river, to destroy 
 rebel property, and take as prisoners, or kill all suspi- 
 cious characters in the neighborhood. Towards the close 
 of the first day the command neared the river. Advance 
 and flanking parties were thrown out from the main body, 
 and the troops moved down from the mountain toward 
 the ferry. A large opening suddenly burst into view 
 and the large bottom farm of the proprietor of the ferry 
 lay stretched out before them. Presently Eichmond him- 
 self came out to meet them. He was a tall athletic man, 
 and past the meridian of life ; he carried a long and heavy 
 rifle on his shoulder and a large hunter's knife dangled 
 from the strap of his deer-skin bullet pouch. 
 
 " Hello w, thar," said he on nearing us, "who are you?" 
 
 " Federal troops, sir," answered the captain. 
 
 " AVell, I reckon'd so the moment I sot my eyes on 
 them thar blue coats of your'n. Whar you goin' ?" 
 
 " Down to the ferry, sir." 
 
 " Come along, then ; old Eichmond's the very man you 
 are huntin' for, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes ; are you Eichmond ?" 
 
 " I reck'n I am." 
 
 " They tell me you are a true Union man, Mr. Eich- 
 mond ?" 
 
 " Well, I reck'n thar ain't ary better one in these moun-' 
 tains than old Sam Eichmond, unless it be my boy Bill, 
 ^ Devil Bill;' you've h^ar'n of Mm up thar at Ealeigh 0.- 
 H., I reck'n?" 
 
 " Oh yes," said the captain. " Lead on, Mr. Eichmond." 
 
 The old man took the trail down the mountain, fol- 
 lowed by the captain and his men. They shortly came 
 to the cleared field through which the path led- down to 
 the "Eichmond House:" As they approached the old 
 man's dwelling, a young lady, of apparently " two score 
 seasons," came out to meet them ; the old man, in liis off 
 hand, rude way, said, " Well, Sallie, here's Capt. Warner 
 
SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 167 
 
 and some troops, come down to the ferry ' on business ;^ 
 the captain is tired and hungry ; get us some supper, for 
 more than likely thar'll be something for us to do, soon, 
 eh, captain?" 
 
 *' Yes, if our scouts drive down that party of scoundrels 
 upon Blue Stone, they will come here to cross, and we 
 must be on the lookout for them, and assist them in 
 crossing a much darker stream than ISTew Kiver." 
 
 " That's it," said the old man ; " come in, captain." 
 
 Sallie speedily "spread the cloth and set the table," 
 then turning to Captain Warner, she said, " Set up, cap- 
 tain, supper is ready ; we boarded Gen. Floyd four weeks 
 last fall, and he sat in that same chair and at that same 
 table, day after day ; we are glad to change boarders." 
 Sallie waited on the table, and then, attracted by some 
 noise, went to the door. 
 
 " Some one over thar," she said, pointing towards the 
 river ; " hollered twice, then once, then twice." 
 
 " All right," said the old man, " that's our signal, cap- 
 tain ; I'll go down and bring the man over." 
 
 " I'll go myself," said Sallie, and she was off instantly. 
 The old man sat down again at the table, and turning to 
 the captain, he said — 
 
 " Good girl, that thar Sallie." 
 * " I have no doubt of it," answered the captain. 
 
 " Them's her'n," and the old man pointed to a double- 
 barrelled shotgun and cartridge-box, suspended on hooks 
 from the wall. 
 
 '• Does she use them ?" asked the captain. 
 
 " Indeed she does, sir ; and I reckon as how she ain't 
 afear'd to, either. A soldier gave her the box, and my 
 Bill gave her the gun. He took it from a secesher. 
 You've hear'n of ' Devil Bill' np to Ealeigh Court House, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Yes, I've heard of him." 
 
 Sallie shortly after entered the house with the stranger 
 she had rowed across the river. He was dressed in the 
 
163 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVTL BILL. 
 
 home-made butternut style, witi; fringed trimmings on 
 his hunting-shirt, and accoutred like Eichmond. The 
 old man greeted him warmly, and introduced him to the 
 captain as "one of the Union men" who had stood by 
 him in several scrapes he had with the ".bushwhackers 
 and guerrillas, and there are several more of 'em, true 
 blue ; how would you like 'em to come down and give 
 us a lift to-night, eh?" 
 
 " Yery much, Mr. Eichmond ; tell them all to come," 
 said the captain. 
 
 The old man said a few words in a low tone to the 
 stranger, who shortly after left the house and took a 
 path down the river, and was almost immediately out of 
 sight. 
 
 The captain went out to visit his pickets, and the old 
 man went with him, and at his suggestion new posts 
 were located, a few old ones abandoned, and others 
 strengthened. They returned to the house confident 
 and expectant. About nine o'clock the sentinel at the 
 door cried out "Who goes there?" The captain and 
 Eichmond hastened out ; six armed men stoo^i out in the 
 field but a short distance from the sentinel, who had 
 cocked his musket and " covered" the party. 
 
 " Friends !" said one of the men. 
 
 " That's so," said Eichmond ; " come on, boys." ■* 
 
 " Let them come, sentinel," said the captain ; and the 
 party came up. 
 
 "All right?" asked the old man. 
 
 " Yes," said one of th^ men, " and more of our boys 
 down thar comin'." 
 
 They all went into the house and gathered around the 
 fire. The new comers ^ere dressed like the stranger, in 
 suits of butternut^ and fringed hunting- shirts, and each 
 bore a heavy rifle, a knife, and pouch. As each sat down 
 he drew from his pouch a pipe of the hemlock root, filled 
 it with tobacco, lighted it, and silently awaited events. 
 The challenge of the sentinel became more and more fre- 
 
SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 169 
 
 quent. until fall twenty of Riclimond's men had come in, 
 and then it ceased altogether. They were strange-look- 
 ing men, and as they gathered round the old hearth-stone, 
 with their long rifles, their knives and pipes, and dressed 
 in uniform suits of butternut, and fringed hunting-shirts, 
 they presented a picture one might do well to study — a 
 picture one might go back a century to find a counterpart 
 for, and one from which a few steps — to the troops outside — 
 would, like Eip Yan Winkle, take you a century ahead. 
 
 After midnight the captain and Richmond again visited 
 the pickets. Everything was quiet, and they returned 
 to Richmond's house. The old man loaded his pipe, and 
 the two sat down by the fire. 
 
 " You say your son Bill is up at Raleigh C. H., Mr. 
 Richmond ?" said the captain. 
 
 " Yes, ' Devil Bill, they call him, in these mountains ; I 
 reckon you're hearin' of him up there to Raleigh C. H., 
 captain ?" 
 
 "Yes, he was taken once by the rebels, I believe." 
 
 " Yes he war, an' I'll tell you how, captain, though it's 
 a long story, and may be you won't like to hear it all ?" 
 
 " Oh yes," said the captain, " go on, by all means, Mr. 
 Richmond." 
 
 " Well, ever since the seceshers got to carryin' on so, 
 Bill has been sot agin 'em, and me and neighbor Boggs, 
 and Bill, and these other fellars here to-night, would come 
 here and meet in my barn. Well, we determined to fight 
 if they disturbed us; we said fight, and we meant it, 
 captain ; there ain't a single Richmond, male or female, 
 that won't fight." 
 
 " I believe it," said the captain, as he turned his eyes 
 to the shotgun and cartridge box against the wall. 
 
 "Well," continued the old man, "the seceshers got 
 quite impudent, and as it took some time to gather our 
 band together, they attempted to cut us off singly ; but 
 we got wind of it, and night after night I got into 
 my boat and went down the rapids to the ' island/ for 
 
170 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 
 
 safety. One night they came to the house here, I war on 
 tlie island, and Sallie an' the old woman war alone. 
 They tried to frighten Sallie, to make her tell whar I war, 
 bat she got mad, and war for pitchin' in to light 'em, sin- 
 gle-handed, and so soon after they went away. At length 
 Bill, and several of these fellars had to leave 'kase Floyd's 
 men war 'round thick, and it war no use to fight then, 
 agin so many ; so they took to the brush, and 'riz the 
 mountain' back here, on their way to Pinch Gut Creek. 
 
 " Well, they were gone more'n a month, and we begin to 
 git oneasy 'bout 'em. So Sallie said she'd find 'em oilt; 
 and taking a basket of ' pone,' and shouldering her gun, 
 and sticking my pistol in her belt, she riz the mountain 
 back here and started toward Punch Gut Creek. She 
 travelled on until noon, when she. came to the creek, 
 'bout ten miles from here, I reckon, and hunted up and 
 down a good while, every now and then calling for Bill. 
 But she couldn't find him, nor ary one of the other fellars, 
 but she kept on huntin', and at last she thought she would 
 fire off the pistol. Well, Bill hear'n it,, and says he to 
 John, thar," and Richmond pointed to one of the sleeping 
 Yirginians, " ' there, that's dad's pistol, John ;' and you see 
 John had something of a liking for Sallie, so says he to 
 Bill, ' and I shouldn't be surprised if it war Sallie, comin' 
 out to find us, so just hide in here and I'll holler.' Well, 
 he hollored, and Sallie knew the voice mighty quick, I 
 reckon, and soon found them under a big rock; after 
 sharing among them her ' pone,' and giving them words 
 of comfort and cheer, she left them. She left them, and 
 came back home that same night 'bout ten, I reckon. 
 
 " Well, after Floyd went away, the bushwhackers were 
 worse than ever, but Bill nor me didn't fear 'em. So Bill 
 and the boys came back, and the seceshers hearin' on it, I 
 reckon, they thought they had a fine chance now to 'rub us 
 out.' So they came down to the river at night, intendin' to 
 cross over in the mornin' early. But we heard they war 
 acomin', and we jest called in all these here boys, and 
 
SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. ITl 
 
 some other fellers came along, 'kase Floyd had retreated, 
 and they wanted to be thought good Union men^ for fear 
 of you Yankees. So they came too, and we put out some 
 of the boys to watch, and slept in the barn all night. 
 Well, 'bout daylight, I thought I saw a secesher, on 
 t'other side of the river, fixin' a canoe to cross over in ; 
 so says I to John, ' Your eyes are young, can you see ary 
 secesher cross the river?' But 'bout that time I seed 
 tjiem plain enough myself, so I just ran out round the 
 barn to get a good sight on 'em. Well, sir, the whole 
 gang let drive at me, and the balls whistled awfully 
 against the barn. Bill an' John, and these fellers here, 
 came out, and we got a little nearer the seceshers, and 
 peppered away at them, shot for shot. But the new fel- 
 lers that came down to help lis took to the brush and riz 
 the mountain. Well, we kept afiring till long after 
 breakfast, whenever we could see the shadow of a se- 
 cesher on t'other bank. After a while, Sallie put some- 
 thing for us to eat in a basket, and wound 'round the 
 mountain to whar them new fellers war, and wanted one 
 of 'em to bring it down to ns, but nary one would come, 
 and Sallie jist threw her shotgun on her shoulder, and 
 says she, ' I'll go myself, then, you cowards !' They told 
 her she'd get killed if she did, for the balls was jist hailin' 
 all over the bottom. But Sallie never minded 'em a bit, 
 and came right on ; several shots were fired as she came 
 down, but none hit her, and Sallie had the satisfaction to 
 see "US eat our breakfasts in that old corn crib out thar, 
 which we used as a fort; pretty good one, I reckon, 
 warn't it, captain ?" 
 
 " Yery good," answered the captain ; " were any of vou 
 hit?" 
 
 " Some of the boys got little scratches, but none were 
 killed. Sallie w^s in high dudgeon about them ^ new 
 fellers,' and we seed she war mad ; so John thar pointed 
 out a secesher, cross the river, and she blazed away with 
 her shot-gun at him, but I reckon the thing didn't carry 
 
172 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 
 
 more'n half way, 'kase you see, captain, 'twere nigli onto 
 two hundred yards, I reckon. Well, 'bout noon the se- 
 ceshers drew off, an' that's the last big time we've had 
 down here, captain. The corn-crib was pretty well bat- 
 tered with the balls, and the roof looked more like a 'corn 
 sieve,' than a 'corn shed.' 
 
 '^ Three balls struck the house : here, one went through 
 right thar," said the old man, pointing to the shivered 
 window-sash, " and went out through that door thar ; one 
 tore that hole in the door cheek thar ; and another went 
 through and through the puncheon." The old man 
 lighted his pipe, and remained silent and thoughtful 
 some time. 
 
 " Well, about Bill,^' prompted our captain, " you haven't 
 told me how he was taken, yet." 
 
 " Just come to that very point, captain, and now I'll 
 tell you how it all war. Bill were allers a venturesome 
 chap, and willin' to fight anything from a 'cap' down to 
 nothin'. So the folks round here got to callin' him 'Devil 
 Bill'. I reckon you've hearn of him up to Ealeigh C. H., 
 captain." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, thar war a company of Jenkinses Cavalry up 
 here at 'Jumpin Branch,' on the road to Pack's lower ferry, 
 and last winter they killed three of your men who were 
 out on a scout, an' so Bill thought he would jist go up 
 thar an' see what they war doin', bein' as how they war 
 strangers to him and wouldn't know him. Well, Bill 
 went up thar, and stayed round among 'em a good while, 
 and then went into the tavern, and sot down in the bar- 
 room. The captain war in thar, and he war a bio win' 
 'bout the cussed Yankees, and said the" Union war all 
 smashed up. Bill couldn't stand that, so he let the cap- 
 tain have a little piece of his mind on that subject ; and 
 the captain jumped right up, and, says he, 'Have a care, 
 young man, or I'll have you took up !' 
 
 " ' I aint afeared of you/ said Bill, ' nor eny other traitor.* 
 
SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 1^3 
 
 " ' Call me a traitor,' said the captain, coming up to Bill 
 with a revolver in his hand ; ' call me a traitor, you cursed 
 liar!' 
 
 " Well, Bill would never take the ' lie,' so he jist up and 
 knocked the captain down, and the captain hollered out, 
 ' Seize hi<n ! seize him ! [' Well, some teller came in, then, 
 who knowed Bill, and he told them who he war, and thej 
 were awfully pleased, I Teckon, over the capture of Devil 
 Bill. You've hearn of him up thar to Raleigh C. H., I 
 reckon, captain?" 
 
 " Yes ; go on." 
 
 " Well, they kept Bill thar until next day, when they 
 started for JSTewburn, they said, as they let on they 
 war takin' him to Eichmond. They made Bill get up 
 behind a big Irishman, and three other cavalrymen fol- 
 lowed behind. After going two or three miles the three 
 cavalrymen fell back, almost out of sight, and then the 
 big Irishman says to Bill, 'Jump down, now, and run 
 for life. I'll shoot towards you, to make them other fel- 
 lers believe I shot at you, but I won't hit you.' But Bill 
 understood the trick. He knew that several of our neigh- 
 bors had been killed in that same way, so he said nothin^ 
 and jist rode on. 
 
 "'Ain't you goin' to run?' asked the Irishman. 
 
 "'No, I ain't,' said Bill. 
 
 " So the Irishman got wrothy, and swore he'd shoot Bill 
 if he didn't. Well, Bill kinder let on he war getting off, 
 but instead of that he war getting out his long pocket 
 knife, and suddenly seizing the Irishman by the hair, he 
 drew his head back, and with all his might buried his 
 knife in his throat. The feller struggled awfully, and 
 both he and Bill fell from the horse, and in the meantime 
 Bill gave him three or four hard stabs. The Irishman 
 got up to his feet, and after one wild look, fell dead. 
 Well, the other fellers came a galloping up, as fast as they 
 could, and Bill just cut the dead Irishman's carbine from 
 its straps, and took to the brush. Well, the cavalrymen 
 
It4 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 
 
 came up and stopped thar, looking at the dead Irisliman. 
 Bill war not far off, neither, I reckon. He war just behind 
 a big chestnut, but a few feet from the road ; and, waiting 
 till he got a good chance, he blazed away with his car- 
 bine, and one of the other fellers fell from his horse, and 
 the other two started back towards ' Jumping Branch' in 
 a desperate hurry, I reckon. Well, Bill seen that nothing 
 more could be done, so he riz the mountain, and come 
 right on to Ealeigh C. H. You've seen him thar, I reckon; 
 captain?' 
 
 " Did he kill the last man ?" 
 
 "ISTo, he war only wounded, and his comrades took 
 him away shortly after. But 1 can show you the grave 
 of the Irishman to-day. They buried him close to the 
 spot whar he war killed, and that war the way Bill war 
 taken and got away, captain." 
 
 The old man knocked the ashes from his pipe, coolly 
 loaded, lighted, and smoked on as before. His story was 
 ended. At length morning came, and with it the news 
 that the rebels had crossed the river at some point down 
 the stream. The captain then determined to cross over, 
 and attack a body of secesh a few miles beyond, at the 
 house of one Colonel Henry and under his commaihd. 
 Sallie was up betimes, and soon had the breakfast ready. 
 About nine the command was taken across the river in 
 boats, Sallie assisting in moving the boats. After the 
 last man stepped on the shore, Sallie followed. Her shot- 
 gun was on her shoulder and the cartridge-box hung at 
 her side. 
 
 " Why, Miss Eichmond, you ain't going with us, are 
 you?" asked the captain in surprise. 
 
 "Indeed I am, captain. I reckon I'd like a shot at 
 them fellers, as well as any on you." 
 
 The command moved forward rapidly and with cau- 
 tion, making prisoners of every man they met in order 
 to prevent the intelligence of their approach reaching the 
 enemy. Finally the prisoners accumulated to quite a 
 
KENTUCK AGAINST KENTUCK. 115 
 
 number, and it was thouglit advisable to leave tbem with 
 a small guard, while the command, less encumbered 
 could push on more rapidly. The captain requested 
 Sallie to remain as a part of the guard, which she con- 
 sented to, and faithfully discharged her trust. Col. Henry 
 and his followers found it. convenient to retire before the 
 Federal troops, and when they entered his dwelling, they 
 ■found the nest yet warm, but the bird had flown. Some 
 prisoners were taken, a little more scouting done in the 
 neighborhood, and the captain took his troops back to the 
 river. Sallie, as before, assisted them over, and welcomed 
 them at the house of her father. Shortly after the troops 
 took up their march for Ealeigh C. H., where they ar- 
 rived the evening of the fourth day, yery tired, but 
 exceedingly well pleased with their scout to Eichmond 
 Ferry. 
 
 The captain recommended the young unmarried 
 officers of the regiment to visit the ferry, if for no other 
 purpose than to see Sallie, and he himself soon .made the 
 acquaintance of Devil Bill. — Shortly after the return of 
 the scouting party, the officers of the 30th sent an invita- 
 tion to Sallie to visit Ealeigh C. H., and engaged to pre 
 sent her with a revolver, on her arrival, but the regiment, 
 was almost immediately after ordered on to Princeton, 
 and Sallie never made the visit. 
 
 KENTUCK AGAINST KENTUCK. 
 
 In. the rebel charge upon McCook's right in the battle 
 of Stone Eiver, the rebel Third Kentucky was advancing 
 full upon one of the loyal Kentucky regiments. These 
 two regiments were brought from the same county, and 
 consequently were old friends and neighbors, and now 
 about to meet for the first time as enemies. As soon as 
 they came near enough for recognition, they mutually 
 ceased firing, and began abusing, and cursing, and swear- 
 
176 THE scout's revenge. 
 
 ing at eacli other, calling "eacli other tlie most outlandish 
 names ; and all this time the battle was roaring around 
 them without much attention from either side. It was 
 hard to tell which regiment would come off the victor in 
 this wordy battle. As far as I could see, both sides were 
 terrible at swearing ; but this could not always last ; by 
 mutual consent they finally ceased cursing, and grasping 
 their muskets charged into each other with the most un- 
 earthly yell ever heard on any field of battle. Muskets 
 were clubbed, bayonet met bayonet, and in rflany instan- 
 ces, when old feuds made the belligerents crazy with pas- 
 sion, the musket was thrown away, and at it they went, 
 pummelling, pulling, and gouging in rough and tumble 
 style, and in a manner that any looker-on would consider 
 a free fight. The rebels were getting rather the better 
 of the fight, when the Twenty-third Kentucky succeeded 
 in giving a flanking fire, when they retreated with quite 
 a number of prisoners in their possession. The rebels 
 had got fairly under weigh, when the Ninth Ohio came 
 up on the double-quick, and charging on their now dis- 
 ordered ranks, succeeded in capturing all their prisoners, 
 besides taking in return a great many of the rebels. As 
 ,the late belligerents were conducted to the rear they ap- 
 peared to have forgotten their late animosity, and were 
 now on the best terms imaginable, laughing, and chatting, 
 and joking, and, as the rebels were well supplied with 
 whiskey, the canteens were readily handed about from 
 one to the other, until they all became as jolly as possible 
 under the circumstances. 
 
 THE SCOUT'S E*EYENGE. 
 
 Kight had settled down upon the army of the Potomac, 
 and except in the tent of a general, quiet reigned in the 
 camp. The river rolled placidly along, as though no 
 hostile forces lined its banks, and Washington looked 
 
THE scout's REVENaE. ITT 
 
 peaceful, as if no devil were trying to pluck some stars 
 from the flag which floated over the Capitol. But the 
 measured tramp of the sentinel, and the quick low-toned 
 challenge to the straggler hurrying to quarters, told the 
 story of the struggle that was going on. 
 
 In the tent of the general, grouped round a small table 
 on which were spread maps of the country, sat several 
 officers, eagerly discussing a point upon which opinions 
 differed. It was an informal council of war, and the of- 
 ficer in command, while he listened carefully, refrained 
 from giving his judgment in the matter — flattering first 
 this one with symptoms of agreement with him, or com- 
 plimenting that one on the clearness of his views, while 
 he drew from some of the more bashful of the party what 
 they thought. 
 
 To none was he more polite than to a young man of 
 fine address, whose shoulder-straps claimed for him the 
 •rank of colonel. ISTo greater contrast could be found than 
 between the faces of the general and his subordinate. 
 Both had keen eyes, and would be called handsome men 
 anywhere ; but the features of the elder wore an open, 
 manly look, while those of the younger bore a sinister 
 cast, that did much to destroy his otherwise good looks. 
 The colonel was evidently ill at ease, and though he re- 
 turned the polite attentions of the general as a gentleman 
 would, he did not venture to meet the steady gaze that 
 accompanied the honeyed words. 
 
 Just at the moment the discussion was at the hottest, the 
 sentry announced a messenger. " Show him in," said the 
 general, and the man entered with a respectful salute. 
 " We will resume this to-morrow, gentlemen," he said, 
 bowing to the party, who, taking the hint, immediately 
 dispersed to their several quarters. 
 
 " Well, Hardy, what success ?" said the general, turning 
 
 to the scout who stood leaning on his rifle. He was well 
 
 worth studying — a tall, lean man, with stooping shoulders, 
 
 a face thin and sallow, with rambling legs, but his eyes 
 
 12 
 
178 ' THE scout's revenge. 
 
 glistened as if on fire. His body, nngainly as it was, 
 gave promise of great strength, and tlie long sweep of his 
 arm, joined to the grasp of his immense hand as he ca- 
 ressingly held his weapon to his breast, would have 
 warned his foes that it was unsafe to try conclusions A^ith 
 him at too close quarters. On every line of his countC' 
 nance, marked as it was with inexpressible sadness, were 
 written honesty and firmness, so that you felt what he 
 said could be trusted. 
 
 " A leetle, gineral," he said, looking cautiously about. 
 "Be we alone?" he added, in an undertone. 
 
 The general stepped to the door of the tent, but nothing 
 could be seen except the sentry pacing his usual beat. 
 The scout, however, was not satisfied, and walking briskly 
 out he approached the rear of the tent, when a hasty foot- 
 step was heard retreating. He listened carefully, at the 
 same time keeping his trusty rifle ready for use, but the 
 footsteps died away in the distance, and he returned to 
 the tent. 
 
 " Some drunken soldier, Hardy," said the general, a 
 little annoyed at the occurrence. " It shall be looked to 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Maybe so," said the scout, leaning on his rifle, and 
 refusing to be seated. " Yit his pace war mighty stiddy 
 for a man in liquor." 
 
 " Well, he is gone now, so let us to business," said tho 
 general, a little testily. 
 
 "Watch D'Arblay, general," said the scout. "He's in 
 high favor where I've been to-day, and that ain't no great 
 praise for a Union man." 
 
 " Did you reach the village, then ?" asked the general, 
 his eyes fixed upon Hardy's face. 
 
 " I was there afore twelve o'clock, and by luck fell in 
 with an Alabamy regiment. So, as I was real Yirginny," 
 and a mocking smile lit up the sallow face, " I mixed in 
 with the boys." 
 
 " You are venturesome. Hardy," said the other. " If 
 
THE SCOUT^S REVENGE 179 
 
 fhey catcli you they will show no mercy. Already your 
 name is known the country round, and a reward offered 
 for you." 
 
 " They can't hurt me no worse than they hev, gineral. 
 I went by the homestead to-day, and the ashes are there 
 yet, . The fire that burned the old place wint into my 
 heart, and I ain't afeard of being ketched till my work's 
 done." 
 
 " Bo they know how strong we are in this place ?" 
 asked the general. 
 
 " To a man, gineral. And they're a chuckling might- 
 ily over it. 'Tain't no secret at all, and they don't make 
 no bones of saying they hev good friends in your camp. 
 Did I tell you to watch D'Arblay, gineral?" and the 
 scont fingered the lock of his rifle, looking out upon the 
 white city which lay before him. 
 
 Suddenly he started and threw himself in the shadow 
 of the curtain which hung at the door of the tent. A 
 moment he stood so, and then, swiftly bringing his rifle 
 to his shoulder, a quick report was heard, and Hardy 
 turned to the tent. 
 
 The startled sentry hastened to inquire the cause, but 
 the imperturbable old man carelessly explained that he 
 had only fired off his load, and, as his eccentricity was 
 well known, that ended it. But he bent low and whis- 
 pered to "the general, "Keep watch on D'Arblay^a close 
 watch — gineral," and gave vent to a chuckle that shook 
 his body till his bones rattled. 
 
 An hour later and the little camp that lay as an out- 
 post of the great army was stirring with new life. No 
 rapid beat to arms roused the sleeping soldiers, but swift 
 messengers moved among the white tents, and at their 
 summons the men shook, slumber from their eyelids, and 
 eagerly took their positions in the ranks. 
 
 A secret expedition, and at night — of all things the 
 greatest delight of the true soldier — so much was clear ; 
 but in what direction, or against what force, none knew ; 
 
] 80 . THE SCOUT'S REVENGE. 
 
 yet the ignorance did not check the undisguised pleasure 
 of the men, as they promptly obeyed the " fell in" of the 
 orderly. It was enough that they were in the enemy's 
 country, on soil once sacred, but now desecrated by the 
 footsteps of rebellion, and so the blow was effectual, they 
 cared not where it fell. 
 
 With the officers it might be a little different, and some 
 hastening to the general's tent for instructions were met 
 by an aid who gave hasty information for the marshalling 
 of the forces. No one was trusted with the secret of the 
 movement, and they who persistently sought the com- 
 manding officer found at the entrance of his tent only an 
 old man, leaning on his rifle. Those who had been at 
 the council readily connected the singular individual with 
 the present movement ; while they who for the first 
 time looked upon his tall form, apparently bent with age 
 and infirmity, did not dream that this was the scout whose 
 deeds were the theme of conversation about the camp- 
 fires, and whose escapes puzzled at once both friend and 
 foe. 
 
 Hardy stood watching the gathering of the men with a 
 grim smile playing about his lips. To the numerous in- 
 quiries that poured in upon him he gave no answer save 
 that he knew nothing, and the questioner returned no 
 wiser than he came. At last everything was ready, and 
 the order given to march. Stealthily creeping out among 
 the shadows of the night went a little band of fifteen 
 hundred men, not one of whom knew where he was 
 bound. 
 
 Just as the last company left the camp, the general 
 came to the door of his tent, and stretched out his hand 
 to the scout. Hardy took it like a man who felt himself 
 the peer of an emperor. 
 
 " I have run a great risk, Hardy," he said. " If you 
 have deceived me" — he stopped, for even the starlight 
 could not hide the pained expression that stole across the 
 scout's face — " or if you have deceived yourself, the con- 
 
THE scout's revenge. 181 
 
 sequences may be terrible no less to tbese brave fellows 
 tban to me." 
 
 " I hev told you tne truth, gineral," he said proudly. 
 " We hev fifteen hundred men, and they ain't less than 
 four thousand. It mought be a hard fight, but we kin 
 git the best of 'em for all that. But ef you've any mis- 
 ^givings, gineral, 'tain't too late yit. It's easy callin' of 
 'em back agin, though the boys looked mighty well 
 pleased at the chance for a brush ' with the critters.' " 
 
 At this moment there was a halt in the expedition, 
 having reached a fork in the road. The general hastily 
 wrung the scout's hand, and, as he said, hurriedly, " No, 
 no, I trusted you, and will not repent," Hardy returned the 
 pressure till the more delicate hand of the officer felt as 
 if it were in a vice, and immediately pressed forward to 
 the van of the detachment. When he reached it, the road 
 became clear, and at the command " forward !" the troops 
 marched on. 
 
 How fared it with the rebels during these stirring mat- 
 ters among their enemies ? Peacefully slumbering among 
 the hills, and dreaming of anything but an attack from a 
 foe they knew to be so inferior in numbers. They were 
 a motley lot. For the most part composed of that class 
 known as "poor whites" in the South, strangely clad and 
 but half disciplined, they would have dispersed from their 
 own internal discord, had not their officers restrained 
 them. But the officers were vastly superior to the men. 
 Deserters from the Federal army, in which they had found 
 both education and subsistence, they turned their talents 
 against their country, and gave a life to the rebellion it 
 could not have had otherwise. 
 
 On this evening, while the men sat smoking about their 
 fires, alternately asserting the superiority of their own 
 States and cursing the cowardly Yankees, as they 
 called all Federal soldiers, in not very choice language, a 
 knot of officers were gathered in consultation- 
 
182 THE scout's revenge. 
 
 " Has anything been heard from D'Arblaj, to-day ?" 
 asked one with a colonel's strap upon his shoulders. 
 
 " Nothing," said a captain to whom the question was 
 addressed. " Our messenger brought a note, from him 
 yesterday that a council of war would be held to-night. 
 We shall have word from him to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I saw it," said the colonel. "I hope they 
 will resolve to fight. I'm getting tired of this inaction. 
 Who is this Hardy he cautions us about ?" 
 
 " One of the enemy's scouts," said the captain. " They 
 tell marvellous tales of him, and even our tents ring with 
 his exploits. This very spot was his farm, and yonder 
 chimney stack the remains of his house. The man was 
 a Tory, and barely escaped with his life." 
 
 The colonel was thoughtful a moment. " Was this the 
 
 man whose family ? Well, never mind, such things 
 
 must be in war. Keep a lookout for him, and if caught, 
 give him short shrift — he may be dangerous." Just then 
 the tattoo was beat, and with a courteous good-night the 
 ofl&cers separated. 
 
 " I wish we could get along without such fellows as 
 D'Arblay," said one young officer to another, as they 
 strolled along the camp. '' I don't mind killing the Yan- 
 kees, but I like a little fair play about it. This game of his 
 can't last very long, and he'll be coming amongst us." 
 
 " Don't be too nice," said the other. " By and by you'll 
 be abusing Burton for this Hardy business. I hear he 
 and his Arkansas man did that nice little job." 
 
 " For God's sake, don't talk so," said the other, shud- 
 dering. " I have not heard all, but 'twas a brutal thing." 
 
 " You'll want a dictionary to give an adjective strong 
 enough when you do hear it all. They say the old man 
 refused to haul down his flag and shot one of our men, 
 when they fired his house, and only Hardy escaped. 
 Burton stood by and saw it done. The women beaten 
 back by the bayonets did not scream, but turned hope- 
 lessly inward. It is a mystery how Hardy got away;.but 
 
THE scout's revenge. 183 
 
 he has been seen since, and lives only for revenge. But, 
 as the colonel says, such things must be in war. Good- 
 night !" and they parted at the entrance of a tent. 
 
 While quiet reigns in the rebel camp, the little band 
 we have seen set out under the scout's guidance is cau- 
 tiously advancing. On through belts of woodland, over 
 hills, and across some of the small streams with which 
 the country abounds, they marched silently but surely 
 on their prey. 
 
 The scout looked like a new man. His tall form was 
 no longer bent; or, rather, it did not appear so, as he 
 strode along at the head of the column. The sallow face 
 was lit up with intelligence, and a gleam of ferocity shot 
 from his eyes ; the road was as familiar to him as the beaten 
 paths about his lost homestead, but he trusted nothing to 
 chance. Kot a sound escaped his practised ear,Nnor an 
 unusual appearance the keen scrutiny of his eye, and 
 more than once he called a halt, while he reconnoitred 
 in the darkness. 
 
 At last they reached the foot of a hill, when Hardy 
 whispered to the colonel in command, and, while the 
 troops rested on their arms, he went forward alone. 
 
 Creeping up the ascent, keeping in the shadow of the 
 trees, lest even the feeble starlight should reVeal his pres- 
 ence, he reached the summit and flung himself upon the 
 grass. Beneath him lay the white tents of the enemy, 
 clustering around the ruins of his homestead. A quick 
 glance showed him that no reinforcements had, as yet, 
 reached them, and with almost as much pleasure he saw 
 their number was not diminished. If any change there 
 had been, an increase of the foe would have better suited 
 his humor. Not a man less ; for the vengeance that fired 
 his heart burned to strike a blow never to be forgotten. 
 
 The out-lying pickets passed close to the spot where 
 he lay concealed, and as a surprise was intended, he bent 
 his mind to the task of disposing of them. Lazily walk- 
 ing to and fro, peering now and then out into the night. 
 
184 THE scout's rejenge. 
 
 the rebel sentry tliouglit of liis southern home, iieedless 
 of the danger which crouched at his very feet. With 
 such men as Hardy, action follows thought as the thunder 
 belches from the storm-cloud right over head, when the 
 swift lightning cleaves its way to earth ; so quickly does 
 * the one follow the other, that they seem simultaneous. 
 
 The sentry came forward, humming an air learned in the 
 cotton fields of his own native State. A sharp noise, as of 
 a footstep on a rotten stick, startled him ; but before he 
 could give an alarm or call for help, the hot breath of an 
 enemy was upon his cheek and his throat was grasped 
 by the sinewy hand of the scout; the struggle Avas brief 
 At all times, it was not easy to find Hardy's match, and 
 now, standing in sight of his ruined home, the remem- 
 brance of his wrongs gave him the strength of a giant. 
 There^was a wild striking out' of the arms, a clawing of 
 the hands, a blackening of the face, horrible even in the 
 starlight, until the knees gave way, and the picket fell a 
 lifeless body upon the sward. 
 
 Not a ray of pity, not a pang of regret fell upon the 
 heart of the scout. To him it mattered nothing that this 
 picket had done him no harm ; no vision of a southern 
 hearth made desolate, or of the long agony he had pre- 
 pared for some aching heart because he did not come, 
 moved him. Apart from his duty to the little band who 
 waited his guidance, the sight of the low chimney stack, 
 standing a solitary guardian over the ashes of his home, 
 not only strengthened his arm, but repelled all sympathy 
 with the enemy as a weakness to be swiftly trodden under 
 foot. To him they were all alike. Did not the flames 
 of his hoase light up a strange banner, and did not that 
 same banner wave above the encampment so quiet below ? 
 All alike, all alike to the man — no, not all; one stood 
 out among the throng. When Burton meets this victim 
 of his in the coming struggle, it were well he were shriven 
 before the fight, for Hardy has a special vow of vengeanco^ 
 against him, and will execute it at all risks. 
 
THE scout's revenge. 185 
 
 The scout carefully drew the body of the poor wretch 
 out of the path, and seizing his musket, while he put his 
 trusty rifle in a safe j^lace, boldly took up the dead man's 
 beat. Time was flying fast; the morning would soon 
 break, and he must needs hurry his movements ; so, taking 
 as near as possible the gait of the picket he had slain, he 
 walked towards his comrade. The darkness of the night 
 favored his disguise, and the other met him without sus- 
 picion. Hardy clutched at him with his left hand, while 
 he made a swift movement with his right. There was a 
 gurgling in the throat, a tide of warm blood gushed out, 
 and formed a pool at his feet, and the second picket had 
 started on his last journey. 
 
 So far, the way was clear. What obstruction might 
 be upon the hillside he did not know nor care ; once get 
 the men upon the summit unobserved, and all was safe. 
 Turning hastily, stopping only to pick up his rifle and 
 listen, lest the struggles in which he had been engaged 
 should have disturbed the quiet of the camp, he passed 
 with quick steps down the slope, and put himself by the 
 colonel's side at the head of the detachment. 
 
 The men lost all sense of weariness as they advanced 
 up the hill. But for the order for perfect silence, they 
 would have given cheer upon cheer, so eager were they 
 for the fray ; as it was, they pushed on vigorousl}^, drag- 
 ging the mountain howitzers which accompanied their 
 • march as easily as though they were some- child's toys 
 they handled, and very soon reached the top of the ascent. 
 Here resting for a moment, to gather breath, and find 
 proper positions for their " bull-dogs," as they called the 
 howitzers, the little band nerved themselves for the work 
 before them. 
 
 The gray dawn was already breaking in the east, pal- 
 ing the stars nearest the horizon, as Hardy pointed out 
 to the colonel the arrangements of the enemy. 
 
 '' You kin take 'em front, kurnel, and your chance is 
 
186 THE scout's revenge. 
 
 main good ; but I s'pose you'll make it surer by flanking 
 the devils," tinting rather than advising the movement. 
 
 " See," he continued, pointing with his long, bony fin- 
 gers, '' there's the boys from South Car'lina right oppo- 
 site ; the Arkansaw men lie by yon chimney stack. Ef 
 I mought, I'd ask a favor before the fighting begins," 
 said the scout, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Speak it freely, Hardy," said the colonel kindly, with 
 an anxious look, the while, at the brightening east. 
 
 " 'Tain't a long one," said Hardy, who had caught the 
 movement of the colonel's eye, " and the boys '11 be better 
 for getting their wind. You know, mebbe, I had a home 
 about here?" 
 
 The colonel nodded assent. Something in the scout's 
 face made words needless. 
 
 " This was my farm, and that chimney yonder all that's 
 left of the old house. Don't be afraid, kurnel. I ain't 
 a going to tell a long story. Not that it's going to be for- 
 gotten, but I shan't talk about it. I'm satisfied if we only 
 clean out that hornets' nest down thar, and I thought, 
 seein' as I know the old place so well, I could pilot a 
 couple of hundred so as to take 'em behind." 
 
 " You shall have them. Hardy,'/' said the colonel, send- 
 ing an aid at- once with orders for detailing the necessary 
 number. 
 
 The scout looked on with eager eyes. "And now, 
 kurnel," he said, baring his head, and pushing back the 
 thin hair which straggled over his forehead, stretching 
 out his hand, at the same time, to the of&cer, ^'I mought 
 as well say, ' good-by,' My work's most done, and ef I 
 don't come out of this skrimmage, tell the- gmeral how 
 glad I am he trusted me this once. You're goin' to flax 
 'em out, kurnel, and the quicker the better, for mornin's 
 comin' on," and he wrung his hand with a will. 
 
 Hardy led his two hundred men quickly away along 
 the top of the hill, till he reached a deep gorge, now dry, 
 but in the rainy season the bed of a hillside stream, which 
 
THE scout's revenge. 18 1 
 
 foamed and fretted in its course as tliough no stop could 
 be put to its ravages. In t!iis they turned, and, trusting 
 to the morning gloom, made their way to the back of the 
 camp. 
 
 The main body felt their way down the hillside. It 
 was not exactly the place for company movements, and 
 a drill-sergeant would hardly have approved the irregu- 
 larity of their march ; but the men grasped their pieces 
 in fighting humor, and welcomed the coming struggle as 
 eagerly as does the maiden her first ball. 
 I About half the distance towards the camp had been 
 I passed over when a sentry discovered the advancing rank, 
 and, firing his piece to give the alarm, fled hastily to the 
 camp. There was no time to lose ; silence was no longer 
 observed. The commands of the officers rang out on 
 the morning air, and, at the word, the men rushed upon 
 ! the enemy. Down the hill, along the open space, where 
 I the rebel soldiery were wont to drill, they broke over 
 I the slight entrenchment with a yell of delight, and a 
 ' fierce hand-to-hand encounter began. 
 
 Struggling among the white tents the rebel soldiery 
 rushed to their arms, half-clad,- while a few hundred 
 gathered to the right of the camp, only to be dispersed 
 by shell from the howitzers, which fell among their ranks. 
 ^ There was nothing for it but a retreat, and the beaten 
 ' and scattered forces huddled together in the rear of the 
 camp, where a new danger met them. 
 
 Hardy and his men came upon the field with a ringing 
 cheer, and dashed into the fight. The scout's duty was 
 done, and as he neither knew nor cared anything for 
 t military movements, he fought mainly by himself A 
 frenzy possessed him ; his eyes glared like a demon's, 
 and his whole frame was animated with supernatural 
 energy. Clubbing his rifle, he rushed along the narrow 
 alleys of the camp, lj.eedless of the knot of soldiers who 
 slunk away at his coming, or vainly attempted to stop 
 
188 THE scout's revenge. 
 
 his progress, till lie reached the encampment of the Arkan- 
 sas men, 
 
 A fierce struggle was in progress, and Burton, at the 
 head of the backwoodsmen, Avas making a desperate 
 stand. A shout broke from the lips of the scout, and in 
 a moment he was in the middle of it. His long rifle, 
 swung by his powerful arm, mowed a lane for him, and 
 he pressed on till he stood in the presence of Burton 
 himself. 
 
 The Arkansas leader was no coward, and the defence 
 had been a' desperate one ; but he trembled when he saw 
 Hardj facing him. He had seen him once before, when 
 the white head and stern face was lit up bj the burning 
 dwelling. Even Barton, the gambler, the duellist, the 
 bully, could not shut his soul up from dreams, and the 
 face of the avenger had grown familiar evei;! in his* slum- 
 bers. Instinctively he drew his bowie-knife from its 
 sheath, and the scout, feeling for the keen weapon he 
 carried in his belt, dropped his rifle, and stood face to 
 face with his great enemy. 
 
 There was no cry for quarter, and both were soon 
 locked in fearful strife. A few rapid passes of their 
 bright blades, and the Arkansas colonel threw up his 
 arms with a sullen moan, and muttering a ^urse, fell a 
 -corpse at the feet of the scout. 
 
 When the battle was over. Hardy was found leaning 
 against the ruined chimney, the pallor of death spread 
 over his face, while the body of the rebel chief lay a few 
 feet from him. 
 
 "You are not badly hurt, I hope," said the colonel, 
 kindly ; " what can I do for you ?" 
 
 " Water," he gasped ; and on taking some from a can- 
 teen, he revived a little. " My work's done, kurnel," he 
 said, faintly, " and it's about time. There ain't no use in 
 a dead stick, and the green branchy are all gone. Ef you 
 will, kurnel, tell the gineral I died under the old chimney, 
 and that I sent the Arkansas chief to say I was comin'." 
 
WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. 189 
 
 A grim Bmile passed over his face, which faded as his 
 listeners stood by. 
 
 " Take some more water, Hardy," said one, but he did 
 not answer. The colonel took his hand, but no piiessure 
 came from the sinewy fingers. A slight shiver passed 
 through his frame, and the scout was dead. 
 
 The victory was complete. A short time was spent 
 burying the . sfain, and, laden with spoils, the conquerors 
 returned to their camp. When they reached it, they 
 learned that D'Arblay had been shot by the accidental 
 discharge of a musket the night before. Only the general 
 knew the truth. 
 
 The despatches that found their way to the papers were 
 Yerj brief. There had been a night reconnoissance, and a 
 rebel camp broken up, with great loss to the enemy. 
 Hardy's name was not mentioned ; but fev/ who were in 
 the expedition will forget the tall form or underestimate 
 the services. of the scout. 
 
 I WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. 
 
 I 
 
 I . . 
 
 I Gen. Grant, the hero and veteran, who was citizen, 
 Icaptain, colonel, brigadier-general, and major-general 
 'within the space of nine months, although a rigid discipli- 
 !narian and a perfect Ironsides in the discharge of his 
 '|Official duties, can enjoy a good joke, and is always ready 
 |to perpetrate one when an opportunity presents. Indeed, 
 .among his acquaintances he is as much renowned for his 
 leccentric humor as he is for his skill and bravery as a 
 !commander. 
 
 When Grant was a brigadier in southeast Missouri, he 
 (Commanded an expedition against the rebels under JeflF. 
 Thompson, in northern Arkansas. The supposed ren- 
 jdezvous of the rebels was about one hundred and ten 
 jmiles, and the greater portion of the route lay through a 
 Jhowling wilderness. The imaginary suffering that our 
 
190 WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. 
 
 soldiers endured during the first two days of their march 
 w^as enormous. It was impossible to steal or " confiscate" 
 uncultivated real estate, and not a hog, or a chicken, or 
 an ear of corn was anywhere to be seen. On the third 
 day, however, affairs looked more hopeful, for a few small 
 specks of ground, in a state of partial cultivation, were 
 here and there visible. On that day, Liei^enant W., of 
 an Indiana Cavalry regiment, commanded 'the advance- 
 guard, consisting of eight mounted men. About noon he 
 came up to a'small farm-house, from the outward appear- 
 ance of which he judged that there might be something 
 fit to eat inside. He halted his company, dismounted, 
 and with two second lieutenants entered the dwelling. 
 He knew that Grant's incipient fame had already gone 
 out through all that country, and it occurred to him that 
 by representing himself to be the general he might obtain 
 the best the house afforded. So assuming a very impera- 
 tive demeanor, he accosted the inmates of the house, and 
 told them he must have something for himself and staff 
 to eat. They desired to know who he was, and he told 
 them that he was Brigadier-General Grant. At the sound 
 of that name they flew around with alarming alacrity, 
 and served up about all they had in the house, taking 
 great pains all the while to make loud professions of 
 loyalty. The lieutenants ate as much as they could of the 
 not over sumptuous meal, but which was, nevertheless, 
 good for that country, and demanded what was to pay. 
 "Nothing." And they went on their way rejoicing. 
 
 In the meantime General Grant, who had halted his 
 army a few miles further back, for a brief resting spell, 
 came in sight of, and was rather favorably impressed with, 
 the appearance of this same house. Eiding up to the 
 fence in front of the door, he desired to know if they 
 would cook him a meal. 
 
 " No 1" said a female, in a gruff voice ; " General Grant 
 and his staff have just been here and eaten everything in 
 the house except one pumpkin pie." 
 
A GALLANT LAD. 191 
 
 '•Humph," murmured Grant; "what is your name?" 
 
 "Selvidge," replied the woman. 
 
 Casting a half-dollar in at the door, he asked if she 
 would keep the pie till he sent an officer for it, to which 
 she replied that she would. 
 
 That evening, after the camping-ground had been se- 
 lected, the various regiments were notified that there 
 would be a grand parade at half-past six for orders. Of- 
 ficers would see that their men all turned out, etc. 
 
 In five minutes the camp was in a perfect nproar, and 
 "filled with all sorts of rumors ; some thought the enemy- 
 were upon them, it being so unusual to have parades 
 when on a march. 
 
 At half-past six. the parade was formed, ten columns 
 deep, and nearly a quarter of a mile in length. 
 
 After the usual routine of ceremonies the acting assist- 
 ant- adjutant-general read the following order : — 
 
 Headquarters Army in the Field. Special 
 
 Order, No. . Lieutenant W., of the Indiana 
 
 Cavalry, having on this day eaten everything in Mrs. 
 Selvidge's house, at the crossing of the Ironton and Po- 
 cahontas and Black River and Cape Girardeau Roads, 
 except one pumpkin pie, the said Lieutenant W. is here- 
 by ordered to return with an escort of one hundred ca- 
 valry and eat that pie also. — U. S. Grant, Brigadier- 
 General Commanding. 
 
 Grant's orders were law, and no soldier ever attempted 
 to evade them. At seven o'clock the lieutenant filed out 
 of camp with his hundred men, amid the cheers of the 
 entire army. The escort concurred in stating that he 
 devoured the whole of the pie, and seemed to relish it. 
 
 A GALLANT LAD. 
 
 Captain Boggs, of the Yaruna, tells a story of a brave 
 boy who was on board his vessel during the bombard- 
 
192 ON THE CUMBERLAND. 
 
 ment of tlie forts on the Mississippi Eiver. The lad^ 
 who answers to the name of Oscar, was but thirteen years 
 of age but he has an old head on his shoulders, and is 
 alert and energetic. During the hottest of the fire he 
 was busily engaged in passing ammunition to the gun- 
 ners, and narrowly escaped death when one of the terrific 
 broadsides of the Yaruna's rebel antagonist was poured 
 in. Covered with dirt and begrimed with powder, he was 
 met by Captain Boggs, who asked " where he was going 
 in such a hiirry ?" 
 
 " To get a passing-box, sir ; the other one was smashed . 
 by a ball !" And so, throughout the fight, the brave lad 
 held his place and did his duty. 
 
 When the Yaruna went down, Captain Boggs missed 
 his boy, and thought he was among the victims of the 
 battle. But a few minutes afterwards he saw the lad 
 gallantly swimming towards the wreck. Clambering on 
 board of Captain Boggs's boat, he threw his hand up to 
 his forehead, giving the usual salute, and uttering only 
 the words, " AH right, sir ! I report myself on board," 
 passed coolly to his station. 
 
 ON THE OUMBEKLAm. 
 
 Two of the gunners at the bow-guns of the Cumber- 
 land, when the ship was sinking, clasped their guns in 
 their arms, and would not be removed, and went down 
 embracing them. One gunner had both his legs shot 
 away ; but he made three steps on his bloody thighs, 
 seized the lanyard and fired his gun, falling back dead. 
 Another lost both arms and legs, yet lived ; and when 
 they would assist him, cried out, " Back to your guns, 
 boys ! Give 'em fits ! Hurrah for the flag !" He lived 
 till she sank. 
 
A CHAT ABOUT STONE RIVER. 193 
 
 A OHAT ABOUT STONE EIVEE. 
 
 N There was rare comedy commingled with the tragedy 
 at Stone River. The humorism of battle saturates you 
 after carnage is ended. The richest of the drollery and 
 fun is not printable. But we can roar over it in bivouac. 
 Suppose we have a chapter of incidents. One of the good 
 things was Irish, of course. 
 
 An Irish rebel of the 1st Louisiana, who had charged 
 tod far into our front, was coming out of the fight a cap- 
 tive, with a broken arm. A surgeon had dressed it 
 temporarily. 
 
 " You an Irishman and a rebel/' quoth I ; " what are 
 you fighting us for?" 
 
 " Sure, your honor," swiftly retorted Pat, " an' did ye 
 ever hear uv the likes of an army, an' there wasn't Irish- 
 men in it ?" 
 
 *'But Pat," interposed Father Trecy, "you were forced 
 into the service." 
 
 " Yer riverence," replied Pat, respectfully saluting, " I 
 went into it with a good will. The boys was all goin' ; 
 there was a fight, an' sure Patrick wasn't the man to lit 
 inny man go furninst him." Pat was an incorrigible, 
 and we let him go. . 
 
 .A cluster of mangled fello^ws were huddled about a 
 field hospital, waiting surgical attention. A big brawny 
 trooper, with a bullet in his left leg and another in his 
 right arm, hobbled up, holding his Avounded arm in his 
 left hand. " By Gr — d, doctor," said he, with much less 
 pietv than pain, " the d — d rebs came pretty near hittin' 
 me.'' 
 
 Another fellow, blowing blood copiously from his nose 
 — the point of which had been shot off — as a whale spouts 
 sea water, interposed: "The d — d rascals" — sputter — 
 " come d — d near " — another sputter — " missin' me." 
 
 An Irish soldier being hit, turned to his of&cer, patheti- 
 13 
 
194 A CHAT ABOUT STONE RIVER. 
 
 cally exclaiming, " Lieutenant, shure an' I'm hit I" ''What 
 the d — 1 are you doing there, then ?" responded the lieu- 
 tenant, taking Pat by the collar and ejecting him from 
 the ranks. " Get out of that and give a better man your 
 place." / 
 
 The general commanding displayed a distressing 
 faculty for keeping in hot places. After several casual- 
 ties to the staff, and while missiles were flying about 
 promiscuously, one of his aids modestly asked him, " Do 
 you think it right to expose your life so, sir ?" The gen- 
 eral replied by dashing into- a hotter place to correct an 
 alignment and regulate a battery which was firing rather 
 recklessly. He was suddenly checked by a regiment 
 drawn across the field. The men were down, on their 
 bellies, and several rebel batteries were flinging shot and 
 shell all around them. The general thought it a good 
 opportunity to make a speech to them. Although a fine 
 talker, he is not a finished orator. But he jerks out sen- 
 tences that are not easily misunderstood. The battle-field, 
 the orator, and the audience presented a singular specta- 
 cle. When the general addressed the men, each elevated 
 his head from the ground, turning his face towards the 
 commander. 
 
 " Men," said he, " do you want to know how to be safe ? 
 If you d^, shoot low. Fire at their shins. But do you 
 want to know how to be safest of all? I'll tell you. 
 Give them a blizzard right at their shins at short range, 
 and then let them have the bayonet. Give them the 
 bayonet, I say !" The general thinks a " blizzard " at 
 short range a very good thing. 
 
 Li-eut. Willie Porter, of the general's staff, a promising 
 youth of eighteen or nineteen summers, amused us by his 
 sang fr Old. When he mounted in the morning, he filled 
 the general's haversack with luncheon, and threw it over 
 his own shoulder. During the day a shell exploded in 
 the midst of the staff. A fragment of it struck between 
 Porter's side and the haversack, bruising him severelj^ 
 
WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 195 
 
 and tearing open the haversack. The luncheon tumbled 
 to the ground. " There," said Porter, with a droll grim- 
 ace, unmindful of his own narrow escape, "all the dinner, 
 is gone." ^ 
 
 THE WEOUa LEa. 
 
 / 
 
 ^ A lieutenant of the First North Carolina regiment, who 
 had lost a leg in an engagement in North Carolina, and 
 who had supplied its place with an artificial member, 
 consisting of a stout oaken peg, was present at the fight 
 at Olustee, Fla., and while the battle was as warm as one 
 would care to experience it, a rebel sharpshooter put a bul- 
 let through his trowsers leg and through his wooden peg. 
 He felt the blow, but escaped the twinge of pain that gene- 
 rally accompanies the passage of a bullet through genuine 
 flesh and muscle, and enjoying a keen sense of the ludi- 
 crous, he forgot the battle and its dangers, and gave way 
 to the heartiest and most explosive laughter. He pushed 
 along the line, and approached the colonel, to whom, after 
 a severe effort, he was able to communicate the cause of 
 his mirth. Almost convulsed with laughter, he exclaimed : 
 "Colonel! by George! the d — d rebels have shot me 
 through the wooden leg ! Ha ! ha ! Devilish good joke 
 on the fellows !" and he hobbled back to his position in 
 the line. 
 
 WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 
 
 At the outbreak of the rebellion. Widow W. lived 
 in the White Eiver country, Mo. — a land of hills and of 
 ignorance. In that country she and her family stood 
 almost aloue upon the side of the National Union. Her 
 neighbors were advocates of the rebellion, and even before 
 the arrival of the army in Springfield, all loyal citizens 
 
196 WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 
 
 were warned tTiat they must leave their homes or die. It 
 was little that the poor widow had to leave — a miserable 
 log-cabin, and a small patch of hillside — but such as it was, 
 she was preparing to abandon it, when her son Harvey 
 left her, in search of employment. She packed his bun- 
 dle with a heavy heart, took a silk handkerchief from 
 her neck, gave it to him, and kissed him good by, never 
 expecting to see him again. 
 
 He had not been gone many days when her persecution 
 began. Her little boy was one evening bringing in wood 
 for the fire, when a shot was heard — a bullet struck the 
 log under his arm, and he dropped^ it with a scream. 
 The ball had just missed his heart. Joy at his escape 
 from death was henceforth mingled with gloomy appre- 
 hension. 
 
 Next she heard of the death of Harvey. He had found 
 a home, and fancying himself secure, was alone at work 
 in the field. The family with whom he lived were ab- 
 sent. "When they returned at noon they found his dead 
 body in. the house, pierced by a bullet. His torn cap 
 and other signs witnessed to the severity of his struggle 
 before he yielded to his murderer. 
 
 From this time the family of Mrs. W. lived in constant 
 fear. One day a gun was fired at them as they sat at' 
 dinner. Often they saw men prowling about with guns, 
 looking for the young men. One man was bold enough to 
 come into the cabin in search of them. .At night they 
 ail hid in the woods, and slept. The poor woman was 
 one day gathering corn in the garden, and William" was 
 sitting upon the fence. 
 
 "Don't sit there, William," said his mother, "you are 
 too fair a mark for a shot." 
 
 William went to the door and sat upon the step. 
 
 "William," said his sister, "you are not safe there. 
 Come into the house." 
 
 He obeyed. He was sitting between two beds, when 
 
WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL, 19T 
 
 suddenly another shot rang upon the air, and the widow's 
 second son, Samuel, whom she had not noticed sitting by 
 another door, rose to his feet, staggered a few steps toward 
 his mother, and fell a corpse before her. 
 
 " I never wished any one in torment before," she said, 
 *' but I did wish the man that killed him was there." 
 
 Her three oldest sons at once left the Cc^bin and fled 
 over the hills. They were all afterwards in the National 
 army. Samuel's sister washed the cold clay and dressed 
 it for the grave. After two days the secession neighbors 
 came to bury him. At first the frantic mother refused to 
 let them touch his body. At last she consented. The 
 clods were falling upon the coffin, each sound awakening 
 an echo in her heart, when a whip-poor-will fluttered 
 down with its wild melancholy cr.y, and settled in the 
 open grave. The note so terrified the conscience-stricken, 
 superstitious wretches, that for a moment they fled in dis- 
 may. 
 
 Two of her children were now in the tomb. Three 
 had escaped for their lives. The unhappy woman was 
 left with her two daughters and three small children, 
 helpless and alone. She was obliged to go thirty miles 
 upon horseback to mill for food, and afterwards to return 
 on foot, leading her horse by the bridle, with the sack of 
 meal upon his back. On her return she met'her children, 
 about a mile and a half from her own house. In her neigh- 
 bor's yard her two boys, aged ten and tvfelve years, were 
 digging another grave — the grave of an. old man, mur- 
 dered in her absence for the crime of loyalty to the Union. 
 Together with a white-headed patriot, who tottered with 
 age, they placed the corpse upon a board, rolled it, unpre- 
 pared for burial and uncoflSned, into the shallow pit, and 
 then covered it with earth. Such are the trials of loyal 
 citizens in the border slave States, and wherever rebel- 
 lion has been in power. 
 
 The widow now escaped for refuge to St. Louis. And 
 there, to crown her sorrows in the absence of her three 
 
198 A DESPERATE HAND-TO-HAND CONTEST. 
 
 oldest remaining sons, a drunken soldier of the Fiftli 
 Kaiisas Eegiment sliot her daughter Mary, as she was 
 standing in the door of her house. 
 
 A DESPEEATE HAin)-TO-HATO CONTEST. 
 
 Two Minnesota boys once took it into their heads to 
 forage a little for amusement as well as eatables. Striking 
 out. from their encampment into the forest, they followed 
 a narrow road some distance, until, turning a bend, five 
 Secession pickets appeared not fifty yards distant. The 
 parties discovered each other simultaneously, and at once 
 levelled their rifles and fired. Two of the Confederates 
 fell dead, and one of the Minnesotians, the other also fall- 
 ing, however, but with the design of trapping the other 
 three, who at once came up, as they said, to " examine the 
 d d Yankees." 
 
 Drawing his revolver, the Minnesotian found he had 
 but two barrels loaded, and with these he shot two of the 
 pickets. Springing to his feet; he snatched his sabre 
 bayonet from his rifle, and lunged at the survivor, who 
 proved to be a stalwart lieutenant, armed only with a 
 heavy sword. The superior skill of the Southron was 
 taxed to the utmost in parrying the vigorous thrusts and 
 lunges of the brawny lumberman, and for several min- 
 utes the contest waged in silence, broken only by the 
 rustle of the long grass by the roadside, and the clash of 
 their weapons. Feigning fatigue, the Minnesotian fell 
 back a few steps, and as his adversary closed upon him 
 with a cat-like spring, he let his sabre come down on the 
 head of Secesh, and the game was up. Collecting the 
 arms of the Secessionists, he returned to the camp, where 
 he obtained assistance, and buried the bodies of his com- 
 panion and their foes in one grave. 
 
KILLED IN ACTION. 199 
 
 riSTS AGAINST MUSKETS. 
 
 During tlie retreat from Bull Eun a large bonj back- 
 woodsman from MicMgan remained behind to assist a 
 wounded comrade, and was surrounded by four Seces- 
 sionists. Throwing aside his musket, the Michigander 
 exclaimed — 
 
 " You darnation scoundrels ! I can lick you without 
 my shooting iron." 
 
 And suiting the action to the word, Jonathan -^went 
 in " by planting his burly fists between the eyes of one 
 of the enemy, knocking him over. One more stroke, well 
 aimed, laid the second in the dust, while the third received 
 a stunner upon the proboscis which made him kiss the 
 earth ; and probably the fourth would have met a similar 
 fate had he not, with the butt of his gun, knocked Jona- 
 than over. The gallant Michigander was stunned by the 
 blow, when his capture was easily accomplished. 
 
 KILLED IN ACTION. 
 
 It was the day of Cedar Mountain. Crawford had such 
 scanty numbers that the cavalry was formed as a first 
 line of battle, supporting the advance batteries. The 
 audacity of the movement seemed to puzzle the enemy ; 
 for, instead of pushing us hard and driving back our 
 feeble force, the whole morning was spent "in slowly feel- 
 ing their way into position, only now and then pitching 
 a few harmless shell in our direction. Besides, they had 
 about as good ground to fight on where they were as 
 they could find further on; and they were probably 
 ignorant what forces we might have upon their flanks. 
 From sunrise until half past three in the afternoon we 
 stood there wearily, only moving by squadrons to water 
 and detaching carbineers as skirmishers. Across the 
 
200 KILLED TN ACTION. 
 
 fields, which rose in graceful undulationS; we could faintly 
 discern the columns of rebel cavalry and infantry moving 
 from wood to wood, in the direction of our left. We 
 were so placed that we could see nothing but the rebels, 
 the Ehode Island Cavalry formed near us, and one battery 
 in sections on the rise of the hill behind us. 
 
 At three o'clock we had gathered some oats and wheat 
 harvested in the adjoining field, and were feeding them 
 to our horses in addition to the corn-blades among which 
 we stood, when the rebel batteries were moved by hand 
 over the brow of the hill in front, and opened upon us 
 witb great rapidity of fire and accuracy of aim. Our 
 skirmishers in the meantime were sharply engaged 
 with theirs ; and, notwithstanding their disadvantage in 
 being mounted and having merely the short carbine, did 
 considerable execution, losing only one horse. They 
 kept their enemy nervously making little rushes forward 
 as they fired, and falling back to load, so that the rebels 
 began to fire wilder and wilder. At last there was an 
 advance in force, and they opened with grape upon this 
 scattered line. Our men came back like a whirlwind, 
 completely obscured by dust, 'and fell into their places 
 in the ranks. N"ow the battery which our regiment was 
 supporting began to show its brilliant qualities. I think 
 that it was L battery. First Kew York Artillery, but am 
 not positive. Its sections, one above the other, either 
 concentrated their fire or distributed it as circumstances 
 required; and from the first shot to the last almost every 
 missile did its duty. An officer of ours, who was out 
 with skirmishers on our right, was so placed that he could 
 see the effects of the fire on a brigade who were lying 
 behind a hill waiting to charge upon the battery. For 
 a few seconds they lay under the fire. Those few seconds 
 cost them thirty men ; and as they sprang up to run away 
 they were swept even more fearfully. The force broke, 
 and was not, I believe, re-formed during the engagement. 
 
 While the battery was doing its work we were doing 
 
KILLED IN ACTION. 201 
 
 ours — the uupleasantest duty that can be imposed. We 
 had to sit in our saddles, motionless and helpless, exposed 
 to a tremendous fire, and unable to return a shot. Out 
 of the woods in our front the sharpshooters of the rebel 
 brigade had been sent to ''disperse that cavalry T Fortu- 
 nately for us our lieutenant-colonel was an old soldier, 
 and had chosen our place as none but an old soldier would. 
 The corn-field was, as I have said, full of little undula- 
 tions. Just in front of us was a hollow, and beyond it a 
 rising ground. If v/e had been in the hollow, though 
 covered from the sharpshooters, we should have been 
 raked by the artillery ; and the hilltop was of course bad. 
 So we stood to the rear of the hollow, on the rise of the 
 hill ; so that those in front, unconscious of this wide de- 
 pression, must have thought us so much nearer to them, 
 and have regulated their aim accordingly. This I 
 imagine to have been the case, for a perfect storm of 
 bullets swept across the brow of the hill, and struck up 
 th6 dust at our horses' feet. Simultaneously balls come 
 whirring through the air just above our heads, causing a 
 shock to the nerves similar to that occasioned by a covey 
 of quail starting from beneath our feet, and causing a 
 good many of the men to dodge and twist a little in their 
 saddles. I was remarking this fact indignantly to the 
 major, when, " Nonsense !" was his reply. "Why, I 
 dodge myself!" of which he immediately gave an illus- 
 tration. I looked around, and there were General Banks 
 and his staff also bending gracefully to and fro. I there- 
 fore concljaded that the fire was regarded as hot and 
 heavy. 
 
 " Steady in the first squadron ! Steady, there, I say ! 
 What are you about ?" sang out the major's clear, stern 
 voice. 
 
 As he moved to check an apparent confusion, a man 
 made his way out of the ranks — a little pale, perhaps, 
 but otherwise as usual. 
 
 " What are you doing leaving the ranks, sir ?" 
 
202 KILLED IN ACTION. 
 
 "The man saluted him quietly, and answered "Hit, 
 sir." He bad a " pretty" sharp clip from a rifle-ball. 
 
 " Go to the rear and get dressed," said the major. 
 
 The line was dressed again without need of commands, 
 and there we stood again as calmly as ever under fire. 
 But now the men 'began to suffer, and the horses espe- 
 cially had been struck several times. The battery had 
 dismounted a gun which had been run up to the sharp- 
 shooters, to open on us with canister, but the rifle-balls 
 and the shell were becoming more and more accurate in 
 their aim. Bayard turned and spoke to Banks. We 
 heard the Major-general answer, "They stand it like 
 veterans. I shall myself show these their new position 
 when I move them." Presently the order came, "Pla- 
 toons, right about wheel !" and at a walk, without break- 
 ing a rank, we steadily moved back, crossing the exposed 
 hill-top and descending on the other side, where we again 
 formed. But now our whole first line was falling back 
 ■upon Banks's corps, which had been formed as it had 
 come up behind us; and the enemy had succeeded in 
 planting a battery upon Cedar Mountain, which com- 
 pletely enfiladed our position. Over the brow of the hill 
 and from the left flank, the shriek of the shell thrilled our 
 ears, and all along the line they burst with a sound that, 
 once heard, can never be forgotten. 
 
 The battery — one piece dismounted and half the horses 
 killed — limbered up and moved ofi*. Taking down the 
 fence in our rear and that into the road at our right, the 
 regiment again made an about, and retired a second time 
 in line. That was the most trying time of all that day. 
 The enemy's range was perfect, and with every discharge 
 each man wondered how he had escaped. The apprehen- 
 sion of immediate death was strong in every soul, and 
 yet the line moved over that uneven ground better than 
 it could have done on drill. Not an attempt was made 
 •to break ranks or to straggle, even when comrades went 
 down on either hand. Oh I how proud we were of the 
 
KILLED IN ACTION. 203 
 
 men; and How cTieerfully and confidently all tlie officers 
 ever after gave their orders, certain that they would be 
 obeyed ! 
 
 As the chaplain, who had occasionally been riding 
 along the ranks, endeavoring to cheer the men, while his 
 services were not yet required in the hospital, turned 
 from helping to clear away the fence, a man from the left 
 came by, leading two or three horses. 
 
 ^' Where are you going from the field ?" 
 
 " It's the lieutenant, sir. A shell has struck him, and 
 the boys are carrying him, while I take the horses." 
 
 "Who? Not A ?" ejaculated the chaplain 
 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Here he comes." 
 
 And there lay the poor boy, almost a child in look, 
 and a sort of pet among officers and men, pale and stunned, 
 in the arms of some of his platoon, his right leg nearly 
 severed from his body. The crushed and torn muscles 
 showed among them the broken bone, and the blood 
 dropped slowly to the ground, mingling with the dust. 
 To get him into an ambulance and drive back to the hos- 
 pital seemed fearfully long for all ; and I think that the 
 men felt every jolt almost as sharply as did he. Behind 
 I a wood was spread out the ghastly apparatus of military 
 j surgery, and the poor boy was removed as quickly as 
 circumstances would permit to the neighborhood of the 
 table. ' As he lay in the chaplain's arms he seemed to re- 
 cognize the voice that spoke to him, and with the gasp- 
 ings of a dying man he whispered — 
 
 " Oh, chaplain, if I could only pray I" 
 
 ••' Shall I pray for you ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 And the chaplain put up those, exquisite petitions in 
 the Episcopal service for the visitation of the sick. 
 
 A 's lips moved as if he were following the words 
 
 of the petition to the very end. Then he was lifted on 
 the table, the sponge of chloroform applied, and ths 
 
204 DRAWING RATIONS. 
 
 ghastly work of amputation performed. He never reco- 
 vered from the shock. His mind wandered again to the 
 action, and he uttered words of command to his men. 
 At last, with a feeble motion of the hand, he made an 
 effort to ejaculate "Star-spangled banner!" These were 
 his last words. The shells of the enemy came plunging 
 through the wood, and struck against the fence behind 
 
 which our hospital was established. A was placed 
 
 iit an ambulance^ beside B , who had been hit ah 
 
 most at the same moment ; and the whole establishment 
 moved back to a house in the rear. Scarjsely had he been 
 removed from the vehicle when he quietly breathed his 
 last. He lies buried in Culpepper, in the southwest 
 
 corner of our military graveyard, while his cousin H 
 
 sleeps at Harrisonburg, awaiting the same general resur- 
 rection.. 
 
 DEAWma EATIONS. 
 
 There are some episodes in the life of a soldier pro- 
 vocative of laughter, and that serve to disperse, in some' 
 measure, the ennui of camp life. A farmer, who did not 
 reside so far from a camp of the " boys" as he wished he 
 did, was accustomed to find every morning that several 
 rows of potatoes had disappeared from the field. He bore 
 it some time, but when the last half of his field* of fine 
 "kidneys" began to disappear, he began to think that 
 sort of thing had gone far enough, and determined to stop* 
 it. Accordingly he made a visit to camp early next 
 morning, and amused himself by going round to see 
 whether the soldiers were- provided with good and whole- 
 some provisions. He had not proceeded far when he 
 found a' "boy" just serving up a fine dish of "kidneys," 
 which looked marvellously like those that the gude wife 
 brought to his own table. Halting, the following collo- 
 quy ensued : — 
 
hadn't heard of the war. 205 
 
 *■ 
 
 " Have fine potatoes here, I see." > 
 
 '^ Splendid !" was the reply. 
 
 '' Where doyou get them?" 
 
 " Draw them." 
 
 " Does government furnish potatoes in your rations ?" 
 
 '' Nary potato." 
 
 " I thought you said you drew them." 
 
 " Did ! we just do that thing I" 
 
 " But how, if they are not included in your rations ?" 
 
 " Easiest thing in the world ! Won't you take some 
 with us ?" said the soldier, as he seated himself at the ta- 
 ble opposite the smoking vegetables. 
 
 "Thank you. But will you oblige me by telling how 
 you draw your potatoes, as they are not found by the 
 commissary?" 
 
 " Nothing easier. Draw 'em hy the tops, mostly I Some- 
 times by a hoe, if one is left in the field." 
 
 " Hum ! Yes ! I understand ! Well, see here, if you 
 won't draw any more of mine, I will bring you a basket 
 every morning, and draw them myself." 
 
 " Bully for you, old fellow I" was the cry, and three 
 cheers and a tiger were given for the farmer. The cove- 
 nant was entered into, and no one but the owner drew 
 potatoes from that field afterward. 
 
 HADN'T HEAED OF THE ¥AE. 
 
 After Western Yirginia had iDeen for some months the 
 theatre of active operations, a scout going out through 
 the woods near Elkwater, on picket duty, accidentally 
 espied, away in a dark ravine, a little log hut. Antici- 
 pating a hearty meal, he rode up to the house, and an old 
 woman, with a face like a pig's, came out looking the 
 picture of consternation. The soldier dismounted, and 
 asked for something to eat. 
 
 " What ! wittles ?" exclaimed the horrible looking crea- 
 
206 AN IMPROMPTU DUEL. 
 
 ture. " Whar did you come from, and what be a sojer 
 doin' here?" 
 
 " Well, I came from Indianapolis, and be after some- 
 thing 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, sartin. That's the old man, neow." 
 
 Just at this moment there came a gaunt-eyed, slim- 
 livered, carnivorous, yellow skinned, mountain Yirginian 
 — no doubt one of the first families. 
 
 " Look heah," continued the old woman, "this 'ere sojer 
 wants to know if you be Union." 
 
 - The old fellow looked more astonished than the woman 
 at the soldier. In the course of the conversation the 
 soldier inquired what the old man thought of the war. 
 
 " What war ?" exclaimed the old fellow ; " the Eevolu- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Yes, the rebellion, we call it." 
 
 " Oh, why, we gin the Britishers fits, didn't we ?" 
 
 It was evident the old man knew nothing of the rebel- 
 lion going on. When asked if he heard the fight the 
 other day, only six miles from his home, he opened his 
 eyes and said that he heard it tliunderin mighty loud, but 
 couldn't see no clouds, and didn't know what to make of 
 it." 
 
 AN IMPEOMPTU DUEL. 
 
 A Michigander being out on advanced picket duty one 
 day, came in sight of a South Carolina rebel, also on simi- 
 lar duty, when the following dialogue and duel took 
 place. 
 
 Michigan. ^^ Hallo, South Carolina, how are you, to- 
 day?" 
 
AN IMPROMPTU DUEL. ^ 20t 
 
 SoTitli Carolina. " Pretty well, thank yon. How are all 
 the Yankees ?" 
 
 M. " So so. What's the news over in Dixie ?" 
 
 S. "Nothing in particular, only we have got some 
 rifles now that will out-shoot your Yankee guns, all hol- 
 low." 
 
 M. " Don't believe the yarn. You seceshers brag too 
 much. Can't fool your pap on that trigger." 
 
 S. " Suppose, then, you and I just take a few private 
 passes at each other to settle that little question. What 
 say you ?" 
 
 M. " Agreed. Forty rods and three shots each." 
 
 The question then arose as to the preliminaries, &c., 
 there being no parties present to act as seconds. These 
 were, however, soon settled by South Carolina giving 
 Michigan a gold dollar for the first three shots / The par- 
 ties then took their positions, and South Carolina blazed 
 away his three shots at Michigan, who stood erect and 
 pointed out to South Carolina the direction each of his 
 shots had taken. Michigan escaped unhurt, and now 
 came,his turn to fire. South Carolina, to his credit be it' 
 said, stood erect, and received Michigan's first shot in the 
 thigh, which brought him down upon the ground. 
 
 "Hellow, old fellow, none of that," said Michigan, "no 
 dodging the question ; stand up like a man, will you ? 
 You owe me two d — d good shots, and you must pay them, 
 mind that, or no more bragging about chivalry. ''^ 
 
 But South Carolina, having one leg broken already by 
 a shot from Michigan's unerring Minie musket, could 
 not stand on both pegs of his chivalry, and, therefore, 
 squatted, and consequently cheated our honest Michi- 
 gander out of ''two d — d good sh^ts,''^ and thus ended this 
 funny impromptu duel. 
 
208 HOW IKE BAKER WAS WHIPPED. 
 
 HOW IKE BAEKEE WAS WHIPPED. 
 
 Upon a certain day, eomewliere about the middle of 
 August, 1862, we were stationed on the side of a hill, in 
 a thick wood commanding a full view of the main road. 
 I was sent that morning to stand guard on the other side 
 of the hill, a quarter of a mile distant. In front of me 
 was a large meadow inclosed by a worm fence, which 
 cornered about two hundred yards from where I stood, 
 and then took off at a right angle and was lost to view 
 in a deep hollow beyond. There was a small stream 
 running through the meadow, which seemed to take its 
 rise in the corner before-mentioned. The wejlther was 
 intensely hot, and I was very thirsty. The water in my 
 canteen was warm, and did me no good. " I have a great 
 notion," soliloquized I, " to go and fill my canteen at the 
 spring yonder, if there is one." I knew this would not 
 be allowed ; our sergeant had given me particular orders 
 not to expose myself in the clearing, as there was danger 
 of my being picked off by some of the enemy's pickets, 
 who were supposed to be in the neighborhood. My 
 thirst, however, became so intolerable, I determined to 
 risk it. 
 
 I left my knapsack at the root of a tree, and takiDg my 
 rifle and canteen, stepped boldly out into the open ground, 
 and soon reached the fence. I crept cautiously along it 
 imtil I reached the corner ; here I paused for a few mi- 
 nutes and listened intently, but could hear nothing. I 
 stood my rifle in the corner of the fence, and sprang 
 lightly over. There was a piece of level green sward in 
 the cdrner of the field, which broke off suddenly into a 
 deep, rocky gorge. In approaching the edge I disco- 
 vered a steep, , narrow path leading to the bottom. I 
 carefully descended, soon reaching the bottom, and turn- 
 ing the angle of a large rock discovered, as I expected, 
 the spring, and close beside it, to my utter astonishment, 
 
HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. 209 
 
 sat a rebel soldier smoking his pipe. He did not seem to 
 be the" least disconcerted at my appearance, but coolly 
 taking the pipe from his mouth, surveyed me intently for 
 a few minutes. 
 
 " Hallo, Yankee !" said he, '' how many's of ye ?" 
 
 " I am alone," I replied. 
 
 "All right," said the rebel, resuming his pipe and 
 puffing away vigorously. " Water, eh ?" continued he, 
 pointing toward the spring. "There it is, cool as ice, 
 clear as glass, and plenty in it. Help yourself." 
 
 I accordingly took his advice, stepped to the spring, 
 and filling my canteen, took a hearty drink of the cool, 
 delicious beverage. I then refilled my canteen, and pre- 
 pared to- depart, not relishing the close proximity of my 
 new acquaintance. 
 
 " On picket duty, eh ?" inquired the rebel. 
 
 I answered in-the affirmative. 
 
 " Ditto here," said secesh. 
 
 " Well, I'll bid you good day," said I. " I must get 
 back to my post, or I shall be missed." 
 
 " Ditto again," said the rebel ; " but don't be in a hurry, 
 Yankee, I am going to start myself, and we'll be com- 
 pany." The rebel then arose, knocked out the ashes 
 from his pipe, and placed it carefully in the lining of his 
 hat. 
 
 " Go ahead, Yankee," pointing to the pathway. " I'll 
 foUer." 
 
 I did not like the appearance of my new acquaintance. 
 He was a man of herculean proportions, and there was a 
 look in his eye that I thought boded mischief. I, however, 
 started up the narrow path, and soon reached the level 
 sward, closely followed by secesh. 
 
 " Yankee," said he, placing his heavy hand on my 
 shoulder, "them's a darn'dnation good pair of shoes you 
 have on, a mighty good pair of shoes, powerful. Number 
 tens, ain't they ?" 
 
 I told him I believed they were that number. 
 
210 HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. 
 
 "I knew it," said he, nodding his head. "I was sure 
 on it. ISTumber ten is just mj lit. What will you take 
 for them, Yankee ?" 
 
 I told him I did not wish to sell them, as they were the 
 only pair I had. 
 
 " Look here, Yankee," said he, meaningly, " I need them 
 shoes, and I'm bound to have 'em. I might take you 
 along, shoes and all, to our camp, but then I mightn't 
 get them, and I might kill you and take the shoes, but I 
 ain't in that sort of business. Now I'll tell you what I'll 
 do, Yankee. I'll give you a eight for your shoes in Ala- 
 bama money, good as wheat in the mill. You'd better 
 take it, for I'm bound to have them shoes anyhow !" 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Mr. Rebel," said I, for I be"gan 
 to be rather nettled, " I won't sell the shoes, and if you 
 think you can get them in any other way, just try it on." 
 
 " Hurrah for you, Yankee," said he, nodding approv- 
 ingly. " You're pluck to the backbone, but it ain't no 
 use ; here's what'll settle the hash at once," and, thrusting 
 his hand into his bosom, he drew forth- a large bowie- 
 knife, and pointing it towards me, said, " Now, Yankee, 
 I axes you for the last time, will you give up the shoes ?" 
 
 '' No," said I, " I wont ; I'll die first." 
 
 " Then die and be d — d," roared he, making a sudden 
 plunge at my breast ; but I was too quick for him. - I 
 sprang nimbly back, and with my right foot gave him a 
 violent kick on the hand. Jt sent the knife spinning into 
 the air ; in its descent it struck a rock and bounded far 
 away into the hollow beneath. . 
 
 " Well, Yankee," said the rebel, rubbing his hands, 
 "you think you've done it now, don't you! Them's 
 mighty strong soles on them shoes of yourn, powerful 
 strong ; but it only makes me the more anxious to get 
 them ; you think, because "the knife's gone, you're safe ; 
 but you ain't ; here's what'll choke the life out of you 
 in double quick time," opening and shutting his fingers. 
 " Do you know who I am ? I'm Ike Barker, I am, the 
 
HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. . 211 
 
 Alabama ring-tail-roarer, half horse, half alligator, the 
 other half boa-constrictor, never was whopp'd or laid on 
 my back bj man or mortal. Yankee," continued he, 
 drawing off his coat and rolling up his sleev-es, "look at 
 this ; there's muscle, there's sinners ; this," said he, crook- 
 ing and straightening his arm, " is the axletree of the 
 world ; and this," baring his other arm, " is the sledge- 
 hammer of destruction ; you may be a pretty good man 
 among Yankees, but I'm a man among men, and I jest 
 tell you what it is, if you don't give up them shoes at 
 once, you're a gone sucker ; that's what you are." 
 
 " There is only one way for you to get the shoes," re- 
 plied I, " and that is to come and take them. But I warn. 
 you, you will be very apt to get hurt." 
 
 "Darn, the odds," replied he, "I ain't afeared. JSTow 
 look out for yourself, Yankee, for I'm down on you like 
 a thousand of bricks." 
 
 So saying, he stepped a step or two back, sprang lightly 
 up, and came bounding towards me ; then, stopping sud- 
 denly, before X was aware of it, caught me round the 
 waist, and threw me heavily to the ground. But you 
 know, George, it is pretty hard to hold me down in a 
 scuffle ; I was on my feet again in an instant, and had 
 disengaged myself from my powerful antagonist. "We 
 once more stood face to face on the green sward. 
 
 " Well, Yankee," said he, eying me curiously, " you're 
 some in a bar fight, I swar you are I But I'll have them 
 shoes yet, I will, by thunder." 
 
 And again he stepped back, preparatory to making 
 another rush at me. I did not wait for him to come on 
 this time, but, rushing in, planted my right fist heavily 
 between his eyes, which nearly knocked him down. I 
 endeavored to follow up with my left, but did not quite 
 reach him, and he again closed with me. This time we 
 took a fair back hold. This was my favorite mode of 
 wrestling, and you know, George, I have wrestled with 
 Some of the best men in the country with that hold, and 
 
212 HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. 
 
 never have been thrown on my back jet. But I got my 
 match this time. I strained every nerve, tried every 
 manoeuvre, but all to no purpose ; he was my equal in 
 science, and -had the advantage of me in strength. ' 
 
 Our deadly struggle had now brought ns close to the 
 edge of the gorge, my strength was fast leaving me, and 
 I knew, unless something was done at once, I should soon 
 be as the rebel predicted — " a gone sucker !" The ground 
 on which we were now struggling sloped towards the 
 gorge. I was on the lower side. The rebel pressed ihe 
 hard, thinking to throw me over. I suddenly let go my 
 hold, slipped down through his arms, caught him by the 
 legs, and, with an almost superhuman effort, threw him 
 over my head, falling on the ground at the same time 
 myself nearly exhausted. When I again rose to my feet 
 I saw my antagonist Jiors de combat. 
 
 In his fall his head had struck a rock, and there he lay 
 stunned and hardly able to move. I picked up my can- 
 teen, and hurrying down to the spring, I took a hearty 
 drink of the cool, delicious water; then, securing the 
 rebel's bowie-knife, which I had the good fortune to find, 
 I again ascended to look after my fallen antagonist. He'd 
 contrived to raise himself into a sitting posture, and was 
 rubbing his eyes and groaning fearfully. 
 
 " Hullo," said I, " secesh ! how are you getting on ?" 
 
 He looked at me confusedly for a while, like one 
 awakened from a dream, then, shaking his head dolefully, 
 he exclaimed, in a lugubrious voice — 
 
 " Ike Barker's whopped ! Whopped, too, by a cussed 
 Yankee. O— o—oh 1" 
 
 " How is it about the shoes ?" said I, preparing to take 
 my leave, 
 
 " It's all up with them," said he, shaking his head, " gone, 
 gone ! Number tens, too ! Just mv fit ! O — o — oh ! bo ! 
 bo!" 
 
 I handed him his canteen of water, and left him groan- 
 ing and bemoaning the loss of the new shoes. I found 
 
LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 213 
 
 my rifle where I had left it, and soon regained my post, 
 quite satisfied to be so well rid of my powerful antagonist. 
 
 LIPE AT ELK HOEN TAYEM. 
 
 On the 10th of November, 1862, the writer was ordered 
 from Springfield, Missouri, to Elk Horn Tavern to take 
 command of the first and second battalions of the First 
 Arkansas Cavalry Volunteers, then holding the post. 
 At that time, the second and third divisions of the Army 
 of the Frontier had fallen back into Missouri, and the 
 first, Gen. Blunt commanding, was in camp on Lindsey's 
 Prairie, near the line between northwestern Arkansas and 
 the Cherokee Nation. Elk Horn Tavern, situated on 
 Pea Kidge, Arkansas, and itself the centre of the fiercest 
 fighting of the three days' conflict of March of that year, 
 is a rude old-fashioned structure, on the Virginian model 
 of a hundred years gone. Its overhanging roof and capa- 
 cious chimneys, built up sturdily from the outside, as 
 though scorning modern improvements, gave it an air of 
 comfort, and in the days of the over-land mail, its good 
 cheer was most ample. 
 
 At the time we mention, it was an outpost for the main 
 body of the Army of the Frontier, then lying from forty 
 to fifty miles east of it. Gen. Blunt was forty miles 
 nearly due west, but relied on this post to facilitate his 
 dispatches to Gen. Curtis, commanding the Department 
 of Missouri. 
 
 The military telegraph had lately been continued to 
 Elk Horn, and it was therefore of great importance to 
 hold the post. 
 
 There was no intermediate office between Elk Horn 
 and Springfield — -strange, too, that there was none at 
 Cassville — and had the post been abandoned, two days' 
 hard riding by messengers, with all the delays and 
 dangers incident thereto, would have been added to the 
 
214 ' . LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 
 
 vexations — always numerous enough — of keeping up a 
 long line of communication. Moreover, the place was 
 threatened by guerrillas, an insignificant enemy when the 
 movements of a grand army are considered, but by no 
 means to be sneered at in defending outposts, generally 
 weak in numbers, and always hazardous in position. 
 
 Such was Elk Horn Tavern — a town of one house — on 
 the 14th day of November, 1862. Scarcely had the wjiter 
 arrived, when information came in that the wires had 
 been cut. Keitsville, as pestiferous a place as can be 
 found above ground, lay ten miles northeasterly, and a 
 detachment was at once sent up the road to trace the 
 depredators and repair damages. The evidences of the 
 mischief were discovered near the town referred to, but 
 the wily rascals who caused it had taken to the " brush." 
 • Administering some wholesome advice to the inhabitants 
 of the neighborhood, that closed with the significant 
 intimation that if the offence was repeated, not a house 
 would be left standing for miles along the highway, the 
 ofl&cer in command returned with his party to Elk Horn. 
 The threat had its effect, and for weeks the line was un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 On the morning of the 15th, a scouting party was sent 
 out under the command of Captain W — . of company H, to 
 scour the country adjacent to White Eiver, to rescue five 
 men who had recently been captured by Ingraham's band, 
 and, if possible, " take in " Ingraham himself While out, 
 there occurred a fight in the dark. Ingraham, however, 
 was not captured, and still continued his robbing and 
 retreating. The same day were furnished twenty-five 
 men to escort the daughters of Isaac Murphy to their 
 home in Huntsville, forty miles distant. On the morrow, 
 arriving within a mile and a half of the place, it was 
 deemed prudent to allow the young ladies to go on alone. 
 There were no appearances of danger, no rumors afloat, 
 and the men were permitted to dismount. They had 
 stopped at the base of a small hill, near an intersection 
 
LIFE AT ELK HORN TATERN. 215 
 
 of roads, and the surro-unding country was favorable for 
 a surprise. Suddenly between sixty and seventy horse- 
 men dashed in upon them. A few sprang into the sad- 
 dle. Others were unable to, and took to the woods, and 
 still others were captured. A feeble resistance was made, 
 and those who escaped were very much inclined to say, 
 each to the other, put not your trust in appearances. 
 
 The detachment, save, the prisoners, seven in number, 
 came finally into camp, and all reports concurred in the 
 fact, that the attack was made by regulars aided by a 
 number of home guards. The information was import- 
 ant enough to warrant reconnoitring, and accordingly, 
 on the 17th inst., Major Johnson, commanding the first 
 battalion, ^was sent out Avith a detachment of two hundred 
 men, with orders to penetrate as far as Huntsville if he 
 should consider it prudent to do so, at all events to ascer- 
 tain whether any considerable force had actually moved 
 up from below. Such a demonstration was not improba- 
 ble, for many of the Missourians in the Trans-Mississippi 
 ^rmy were known to be disaffected, and clamoring for an 
 advance in the direction of their homes. Starting in a 
 severe rain storm that continued for thirty-six hours with- 
 out cessation. Major Johnson forded White Eiver with, 
 dif&culty, and then pushed on rapidly towards Huntsville. 
 When within ten miles of the town, he was met by loyal 
 citizens, known to be such, who confirmed the surmises 
 then current at Elk Horn, even among citizens of Hunts- 
 ville, that there was at that place at least a brigade of 
 rebel soldiery. 
 
 Major Johnson now threw out his scouts, placing a 
 trusty officer in charge, who reported a confirmation of 
 the previous statements, and added to their definiteness 
 by rehearsing the story of certain persons, who declared 
 solemnly that they had themselves seen cannon In the 
 streets of Huntsville, pointed in the direction in which 
 the Federals were expected to approach. The White 
 Eiver was now rising rapidly, and the danger of being 
 
216 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 
 
 cut off serious, in case a retreat should become necessary. 
 Those who ought to know had informed Major Johnson 
 of the condition of affairs at Huntsville, and having been 
 ordered out to reconnoitre simply, he wisely concluded 
 to return before the White River should effectually bar 
 him. His command were compelled to swim the stream, 
 as it was, and two horses were drowned. 
 
 But the sequel showed how a party of reconnoissance 
 can be deceived. There had only been at Huntsville 
 those who attacked the escort, mostly Jackman's men, 
 and these secretly made their way into Missouri, directly 
 after the skirmish. Madame Rumor, and citizens whose 
 selfish fear of a foraging party was more powerful than 
 their patriotism, ruled the hour, and dispatches were for- 
 warded to head-quarters that would have answered very 
 well as addenda tQ " The Arabian Nights" or " Sinbad 
 the Sailor." 
 
 There were at this time in confinement at Elk Horn, 
 certain citizens of Arkansas, against Avhom charges had 
 been preferred for offences known to military law. 
 
 Among them was one John Bell. On the morning of 
 the 16th, his wife drove within the pickets, accompanied 
 by a lady well dressed and fntelligent. Her conduct 
 exciting the suspicion of a refugee at Elk Horn, she was 
 arrested. Of course, she must know why, and expressed 
 very great surprise that she should be so severely dealt 
 with. She declared positively that she came simply as 
 a companion to Mrs. Bell, and to aid in effecting the re- 
 lease of her husband. Moreover, that she had left her 
 " little one" at Fayetteville, and was very anxious to return 
 to him. Upon further inquiry the "little one" proved to 
 be a boy thirteen years of age, and her general conduct 
 continuing to be suspicious, it was concluded that she 
 would "d* to hold." 
 
 The tavern was occupied in part by the wife and family 
 of its owner, then in the rebel army, and with them Mrs. 
 Yestal was domiciled. She was frequently observed 
 
LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 217 
 
 looking searcliingly down the Fayetteville road, and often 
 inquired for newspapers, always wishing the latest. Like 
 a trne studeot of the times, she invariably scanned the 
 telegraphic columns first, and seemed to be deeply inte- 
 rested in the war budget. She was a puzzle to us all, 
 
 and on the 17th, Capt. H , of Texas, then at Elk Horn 
 
 with a number of Texans, who were making their wa}^ 
 homeward with the view of raising a regiment, was 
 granted the privilege of taking such a course as he miglit 
 choose to adopt for the purpose of ascertaining her real 
 character. By arrangement, it was represented to Mrs. 
 Yestal that an imprisoned Texan captain wished, if agree- 
 able, to have an interview with her. It had been pre- 
 viously ascertained that she had travelled in Texas, and 
 the request was eagerly acceded to. Arrayed in " but- 
 ternut" of the most approved color, Capt. H was 
 
 rflarched id her apartment under guard, the sentry re- 
 maining at the door. He introduced himself as Captain 
 Watrous, of Hunt County, a veritable officer in the rebel 
 army, and soon acquired 'her confidence. She now in- 
 formed him that she had left Van Buren on the Tuesday 
 previous; that between twenty thousand and thirty 
 thousand men were assembled there and in the vicinity; 
 that the cavalry advance was at Cane Hill, and that 
 thirty days' rations were being prepared for a forward 
 movement. 
 
 She further exhorted him to be of good cheer ; told 
 him that he need not be uneasy about his situation, and 
 that if he should reach the Confederate army before she 
 did, he must not fail to inform a certain Missouri regi- 
 ment of her arrest and detention. 
 
 " But, captain," at length shrewdly suggested his fair 
 confidant, "I did not see you in the guard-house this 
 morning when I visited it with Mrs. Bell." 
 
 " Oh ! I am an officer," was the ready reply, " and they 
 allow me the liberty of the camps." But the position 
 was becoming critical, and Watrous thought it about 
 
218 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 
 
 time to beat a retreat. He therefore excused himself, 
 not wishing to intrude too much npon the lady's time, 
 and signifying to the guard his readiness to be taken 
 away, bowed himself out, and was formally marched off. 
 The following morning, this Yestal, in name at least, was 
 taken to Cassville, thence to be forwarded to the Provost 
 Marshal General, at Springfield.. Mrs. Bell remained at 
 Elk Horn long enough to find out that her husband could 
 not return with her, when she departed for home, a sadder 
 but a wiser women. While Mrs. Yestal's case was under 
 consideration, and a military commission was sitting, 
 events were thickening below. 
 
 On the 15th, General Blunt had telegraphed that Mar- 
 maduke, with five thousand cavalry and four pieces of 
 artillery, was at Ehea's Mill on the 14th, and that Hindman 
 with a large infantry force was coming up from Mulberry 
 Creek to join him. He, nevertheless, expressed the de- 
 termination to fight them, but desired active scouting in 
 the direction of Elm Springs, Fayetteville, and the White 
 River. The enemy, however,.fell back across the Boston 
 Mountains, and ^ for a time it was thought by those who 
 .wear the stars, that he would retreat, not only to Yan 
 Buren, but thence to Little Rock. These conjectures 
 proved to be incorrect. Marmaduke again advanced, 
 and General Blunt, to cripple the enemy before they 
 should be able to concentrate, made a forced march of 
 thirty-five miles, and attacked the rebel cavalry at Cane 
 Hill, driving them back in disorder to the Boston Moun- 
 tains. He now took a position and awaited developments. 
 It soon became apparent that Hindman was intending a 
 general advance, and dispatches for head-quarters came 
 " thick and fast" to Elk Horn. 
 
 Though General Blunt is the personification of bravery, 
 and, when the danger was imminent of being attacked by 
 far superior numbers, could characteristically predict 
 " one of the d — dest fights or foot races ever heard of," 
 he was not unmindful of the necessity for reinforcements. 
 
LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 219 
 
 More than once lie telegraphed to bring forward the 
 second and third divisions, but their advance was tardy, 
 and when General Herron arrived at Elk Horn at noon, 
 on the 5th of December, Blunt's pickets were engaging 
 the rebel vanguard. While these events were passing, 
 the cavalry at Elk Horn were not idle. 
 
 Orders were received to scout thoroughly to Yelville, 
 seventy-five miles in one direction ; to Huntsville, forty- 
 five miles in another ; and indefinitely towards Fayette- 
 ville, and beyond. 
 
 Formal instruction from the commanding officer showed, 
 as was expected, but two battalions of cavalry, who had 
 never been one hour in a camp of instruction ; and, though 
 now in the service from eight to nine months, under the 
 most distressing circumstances, and called out by special 
 order from the War Department, had, up to this time, 
 \ been only partially clothed — there was not an overcoat 
 j in the line — and had never been paid. Added to this, 
 j they were not attached to any division in the Army of 
 ( the Frontier. Campaigning by itself, the regiment was 
 ordered first by one general and then another — the inno- 
 i cent shuttlecok between distant battledoors. 
 I But the men knew the country where they were ope- 
 I rating. They were on their native hills, again, and were 
 J active and zealous in their efforts to support that govern- 
 iment, loyalty to which had caused them so much suffer- 
 ing. Scouting was maintained with vigor. Frequent 
 inroads were made into the enemy's country — a party 
 striking here to-day and there to-morrow — now moving 
 around Fayetteville, and driving in Marmaduke's pickets 
 at Cane Hill, and again dashing into Huntsville, or 
 fighting the "bushwhackers" of Carroll County after 
 I their own method. At the same time men were needed 
 !to keep open telegraphic communication with the East, 
 j and occasionally to forward messages of the first import- 
 ance to Greneral Blunt. 
 
 Within the lines of the post, matters were more quiet. 
 
220 LIFE AT ELK HOilN TAVERN. 
 
 Tlie "tavern" soon became a central point for the neigli. 
 borhood, many of the citizens being attracted to it by 
 their own necessities, and some, no doubt, from motives 
 that would not bear the test of scrutiny. Women on 
 horseback, with boys en croupe, and sacks in their hands, 
 clamored for salt. Twenty-five cents a quart, payable in 
 eggs, butter, chickens, money, the genuine ringing silver, 
 anything for the saline treasure. Had Lot's wife been 
 crystallized at Elk Horn, the monument of her disobe- 
 dience would have been hailed as manna from above. 
 
 We had taken with us, for individual use, a bushel of 
 "fine table," and it so happened that just at that time no 
 one else had any to spare. The persistent women soon 
 found this out, and we were compelled to go to bartering 
 for our mess. It availed nothing to insist that we had al- 
 ready traded for fifteen chickens, had ten quails; and more 
 butter and eggs than we knew what to do with. 
 
 "No, you must give me at least a quart. You have 
 sold Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Smith some, and I need it as 
 much as they do. Now you haven't got any pies, and 
 I've some of the nicest you ever saw. I dried the 
 peaches myself T We took the pies, and when that 
 bushel of salt disappeared, made light drafts on the com- 
 missary. 
 
 Prisoners were frequently brought in, poor, ignorant, 
 deluded men, the rough work of the rebellion. Exami- 
 nations wer« protracted or otherwise, according to cir- 
 cumstances, and, aside from their revelg,tion of the dark 
 phases of this revolt, the terrible effect of secession upon 
 the poor and confiding, their occasional ludicrousness is 
 deserving possibly of a passing notice. 
 
 " What is your name ?" said the provost-marshal to one 
 of them. 
 
 "Which?" 
 
 " What is your name, I say ?" repeated the officer. 
 
 "Still." 
 
 " I know ; but what is your first name ?" 
 
LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 221 
 
 " ISTo, it isn't," chimed in his wife, pettishly. " Lilburn 
 J. Can't you understand the provo ?" 
 
 *' "Well," continued the marshal, " what does the J. stand 
 for?" 
 
 "I don't know, I'm no scholar," replied the imper- 
 turbable Still. 
 
 " That all may be," said the marshal, now a little vexed, 
 '^but ymi certainly must know what that J. means." 
 
 " I don't, sir ; I didn't put it there. You'll have to ask 
 pap, I reckon." 
 
 ; The provost-marshal, now concluding that some other 
 person would certainly have to be interrogated before 
 the point could be cleared up, proceeded with the other 
 features of the case. 
 
 One day in December, the pickets brought in a seedy, 
 sallow, vagabond-looking individual, wearing an old 
 Istraw hat, and clothed otherwise in the ubiquitous " but- 
 jternut." He represented himself as from Lawrence Coun- 
 •ty, Missouri, whither he was travelling with a sick wife. 
 ^Further inquiry drew from him the assertion that he had 
 jbeen conscripted into the rebel service* and belonged to 
 'Bryant's battalion. He seemed familiar also with the 
 |topography of Benton, County, and spoke freely of pro- 
 jminent rebels living there. 
 
 \ When brought to headquarters, it so happened that a 
 'lieutenant from Benton County was in the room. While 
 
 questioning the man pretty sharply, Capt. W , likewise 
 
 from Benton, came to the door. 
 
 Hearing his own name mentioned, and seeing at once 
 what was going on, a sly wink from the lieutenant turried 
 the case over to him. 
 
 " Where did you say you have been ?" 
 
 " In the Southern army ; I was conscripted." 
 
 "Where do you live?" 
 
 " In Lawrence County, Missouri, when I am to home." 
 
 " They don't conscript up there," continued the captain. 
 
222 ' LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 
 
 " Well, I run down har to git out of the way of tlie ar- 
 my, and they picked me up," replied tlie prisoner, not at 
 all disturbed. 
 
 "You are acquainted in Benton County, I under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 " I am that," with emphasis. 
 
 "You mentioned Wimpy's name a little while ago. 
 "Wimpy, Wimpy !" said the captain thoughtfully," what 
 Wimpy was that ?" 
 
 "Dick Wimpy. He's a 'Fed' captain." 
 
 " You know him, of course, when you see him," con- 
 tinued the captain inquiringly, and looking him steadily 
 in the face. 
 
 " I reckon I do," replied the prisoner, with a confident 
 air. " I was at his house oncst ; but I know his wife a 
 heap better than I do him. He was away most of the 
 time." 
 
 This was consoling, but the captain, seeing that he was . 
 not recognized, began again. 
 
 " Were the ' rebs' after Wimpy ?" 
 
 Prisoner, knowingly, "You better believe. They 
 watched his house!" 
 
 "Who watched it?" 
 
 " Wilson Woodward was one." . 
 
 "Anybody else?" 
 
 "I can't remember, now." 
 
 Captain (still a little curious to see if the fellow did 
 really know anything about him, for he told the truth 
 when he mentioned Wilson Woodward) "What sort of a 
 fellow is this Wimpy ?" 
 
 " Well, he's a brave chap. I'd bet on him quicker ^an 
 I would 071 Jive acesT 
 
 The captain's modesty now overcame him, and he beat 
 a retreat, not, however, until he had informed the forward 
 individual that he was the veritable Wimpy in question. 
 
 Five minutes afterward a blank countenance went to 
 the guard house. 
 
ESCAPE PROM LIBBY PRISON. 223 
 
 ESCAPE PEOM LIBBY PEISON. 
 
 Towards the close of tlie year 1863, tlie Union officers 
 confined in the Libby Prison at Eicbmond, Ya., conceived 
 the idea of effecting their own exchange, and after the 
 matter had been seriously, discussed by some seven or 
 eight of them, they undertook to dig for a distance towards 
 a sewer running into the basin. This they proposed to 
 do by commencing at a point in the cellar, near a chim- 
 ney. This cellar was immediately under the hospital, 
 and was the receptacle for refuse straw, thrown from 
 ! the beds when they were changed, and for other refuse 
 matter. Above this hospital was a room for ofl&cers, and 
 above that, yet another room. The chimney ran through 
 all these rooms, and the prisoners who were in the secret 
 improvised a rope, and night after night lat working par- 
 ' ties down, who successfully prosecuted their excavating 
 operations. 
 
 The dirt was hid under the straw and other refuse 
 matter in the cellar, and it was trampled down so as not 
 to present so great a bulk. When the working party 
 had got to a considerable distance under ground it was 
 found difficult to haul the dirt back by hand, and a spit- 
 toon, which had been furnished the officers in one of the 
 rooms, was made to serve the purpose of a cart. A string 
 I was attached to it and it was run into the tunnel, and as 
 soon as filled, was drawn out and the dirt deposited under 
 ithe straw, but after hard work and digging with finger 
 I nails, knives, and chisels a number of feet, the working 
 I party found themselves stopped by piles driven in the 
 ; ground. These were at least a foot in diameter. But 
 they were not discouraged. Penknives, or any other 
 articles that would cut were called for, and after chipping, 
 chipping, chipping for a long time, the piles were severed, 
 and the tunnellers commenced again, and in a few moments 
 ireached the sewer. 
 
224 ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 
 
 But here an unexpected obstacle met tlieir further 
 progress. The stench from the sewers and the flow of 
 filthy water was so great that one of the party fainted, 
 and was dragged out more dead then alive, and the project 
 in that direction had to be abandoned. The failure was 
 communicated to a few others besides those who had first 
 thought of escape, and then a party of seventeen, after 
 viewing the premises and surroundings, concluded to 
 tunnel under Carey Street. On the opposite side of this 
 street from the prison was a sort of a damaged house or 
 out-house, and the project was to dig under the street and 
 emerge from under or near the house. There was a high 
 fence around it, and the guard was outside of this fence. 
 The prisoners then commenced to dig at the other side 
 of the chimney, and after a few handfuls of dirt had been 
 removed they found themselves stopped by a stone wall, 
 which proved afterward to be three feet thick. The party 
 were by no means undaimted, and with penknives and 
 pocketknives they commenced operations upon the stone 
 and mortar. 
 
 After nineteen days and nights' hard work they again 
 struck the earth beyond the wall, and pushed their work 
 forward.- Here, too (after they had got some distance 
 under ground), the friendly spittoon was brought into 
 requisition, and the dirt was hauled out in small quantities. 
 After digging for some days, the question arose whether 
 they had not reached the point aimed at, and in order to, 
 if possible, test the matter. Captain Gallagher, of the 
 Second Ohio Eegiment, pretended that he had a box in 
 the carriage-house, ov^r the water, and desired to search 
 it out. This carriage-house, it is proper to state, was used 
 as a receptacle for boxes and goods sent to prisoners from 
 the North, and the recipients were often allowed to go, 
 under guard, across the street, to secure their property. 
 Captain Gallagher was granted permission to go there, 
 and as he walked across, under guard, he, as well as he 
 
ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 225 
 
 c^>ald, paced off the distance, and concluded that the street 
 ^as about fifty feet wide. 
 
 On the 6th or 7th of February, 1864, the working party 
 supposed they had gone a sufficient distance, and com- 
 menced to dig upwards. When near the surface they 
 heard the rebel guards talking above them, and discovered 
 they were some two or three feet yet outside the fence. 
 
 The displacing of a stone made considerable noise, and 
 one of the sentries called to his comrade and asked him 
 what the noise meant. The guards, after listening a few 
 minutes, concluded that nothing was wrong, and returned 
 to their beats. This hole was stopped up by inserting 
 into the crevice a pair of old pantaloons filled with straw, 
 and bolstering the whole up with boards, which they se- 
 cured from the floors, &c., of the prison. The tunnel was 
 then continued only six or seven feet more, and when 
 the working party supposed they were 'about ready to 
 emerge into daylight, others in the prison Avere informed 
 that there was a way naw open for escape. One hundred 
 and nine of the prisoners decided to make the attempt 
 to get away. Others refused, fearing the consequences if 
 they Avere re-captured ; and others yet declined to make 
 the attempt, because, as they said, they did not desire to 
 have their government back down from its enunciated 
 policy of exchange. 
 
 About 8J o'oclock on the evening of the 9th the pri- 
 soners started" out, Colonel Eose, of New York, leading 
 the van. Before starting^ the- prisoners had divided 
 themselves into squads of two, three, and four, and each 
 squad was to take a different route, and after they were 
 out, were to push for the Union lines as fast as possible. 
 It was the understanding that the working party was to 
 haye *an hour's start of the other prisoners, and conse- 
 quently, the rope ladder in the cellar was drawn out. 
 Before the expiration of the hour, however, the other 
 prisoners became impatient, and were let down through 
 the chimney successfully into the cellar. 
 15 
 
226 ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 
 
 Qolonel W. P Kendrick, of West Tennessee ; Captain 
 D. J. Jones, of the First Kentacky Cavalry, and Lieu- 
 tenant R. Y. Bradford, of the Second "West Tennessee, 
 were detailed as a rear guard, or rather to go out last ; 
 and from a window Colonel Kendrick and his compan- 
 ions could see the fugitives walk out of a gate at the other 
 end of the inclosure of the carriage house, and fearlessly 
 move off. The aperture was so narrow that but one man 
 could get through at a time, and each squad carried with 
 them provisions in a haversack. At midnight a false 
 alarm was created, and the prisoners made a considerable 
 noise in getting to their respective quarters. Providen- 
 tially, however, the guard suspected nothing wrong, and in 
 a few moments the exodus was again commenced. Colonel 
 Kendrick and his companions looked with some trepida- 
 tion upon the movements of the fugitives, as some of 
 them, exercising but little discretion, moved boldly out 
 of the inclosure into the glare of the gas-light. Many 
 of them were, however, in citizen's dress, and as all the 
 rebel guards wear the United States uniform, but little 
 suspicion could be excited, even if the fugitives had been 
 accosted by a guard. 
 
 Between one and two o'clock the lamps were extin- 
 guished in the streets, and then the exit was more safely 
 accomplished. There were many officers who desired to 
 leave who were so weak and feeble that they were dragged 
 through the tunnel by main force and carried to places 
 of safety, until such time as they would be able to move 
 ,on their journey. At half-past two o'clock Captain Jones, 
 Colonel Kendrick and Lieutenant Bradford passed out in 
 the order they were named, and as Colonel Kendrick 
 emerged from the hole he heard the guard within a few 
 feet of him sing out, "Post No. 7, half-past two in •the 
 morning, and all's well." Col. Kendrick says he could 
 hardly resist the temptation of saying, "Not so well as 
 you think, except for the Yanks." Lieutenant Bradford, 
 who was intrusted with the provisions f^r his squad, and 
 
ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 227 
 
 could not get tlirougli with liis haversack "apon him, 
 was therefore obliged to leave it behind. 
 
 Once out, they proceeded up the street, keeping in the 
 shade of the buildings, and passed eastwardlj through 
 the city. 
 
 A description of the route pursued by this party, and 
 of the tribulations through which they passed, will give 
 some idea of the rough time they all had of it. Colonel 
 Kendrick had, before leaving the prison, mapped out 
 his course, and concluded that the best route to take was 
 the one towards Norfolk or Fortress Monroe, as there 
 were fewer rebel pickets in that direction. 
 
 While passing through the swamp near the Chicka- 
 hominy, Colonel K-endrick sprained his ankle and fell. 
 Fortunate, too, was that fall for him and his pai*ty, for 
 while he was lying there one of them chanced to look up, 
 and saw in a direct line with them a swamp bridge, and 
 in the dim outline they could perceive that parties with 
 muskets were passing over the bridge. They therefore 
 moved some distance to the south, and, after passing 
 through more of the swamp, reached the Chickahominy 
 about four miles below Bottom Bridge. Here now was 
 a difficulty. The river was only twenty feet wide, but 
 it was very deep, and the refugees were worn-out and 
 fatigued. Chancing, however, to look up, Lieut. Brad- 
 ford saw that two trees had fallen on either side of the 
 river, and that their branches were interlocked. By 
 crawling up one tree and down the other, the fugitives 
 reached the east bank of the Chickahominy, and Col. 
 Kendrick could not' help remarking that he believed 
 Providence was on their side, else they would not have 
 met that natural bridge. 
 
 /They subsequently learned, from a 5'iendly negro, that 
 had they crossed the bridge they had seen, they would 
 assuredly have been recaptured, for Captain Turner, the 
 keeper of Libby Prison, had been out, and posted guards 
 
228 ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 
 
 there, and, in fact, had alarmed the whole country, and 
 got the people up as a vigilance committee to capture the 
 escaped prisoners. 
 
 After crossing over this natural bridge, they lay down 
 on the ground, and slept until sunrise on the morning of 
 the 11th, when they continued on their way, keeping 
 eastwardly as near as they could. Up to this time they 
 had had nothing to eat, and were almost famished. About 
 noon of the 11th, they met several negroes, who gave 
 them information as to the whereabouts of the rebel pickets, 
 and furnished them with food. 
 
 Acting under the advice of these friendly negroes, they 
 remained quietly in the woods until darkness had set in, 
 when they were furnished with a comfortable supper by 
 the negroes, and after dark proceeded on their way, the 
 negroes (who everywhere showed their friendship to the 
 fugitives) having first directed them how to avoid the 
 rebel pickets. , That night they passed a camp of rebels, 
 and could plainly see the smoke and camp-fire. But 
 their wearied feet gave out, and they were compelled to 
 stop and rest, having only marched seven miles that 
 day. 
 
 They started again at daylight, on the 13th, and after 
 moving awhile through the woods, they saw a negro 
 woman working in a field, and called her to them, and 
 from her received directions, and were told that the rebel 
 pickets had been about there, looking for the fugitives 
 from Libby. Here they laid low again, and resumed 
 their journey when darkness set in, and marched five 
 miles, but halted until the morning of the 14th, when the 
 journey was resumed. 
 
 At one point they met a negro in the field, and she 
 told them that her mistress was a secesh A^oman, and that 
 she had. a son in the rebel army. The party, however, 
 were exceedingly hungry, and they determined to secure 
 some food. This ttey did by boldly approaching the 
 house, and informing the mistress that they were fugitives 
 
ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 229 
 
 from Norfolk, who bad been driven out by Butler, and 
 the secesh sympathies of the woman were at once aroused, 
 and she gave them of her substance, and started them on 
 their way with directions how to avoid the Yankee sol- 
 dier:!^ who occasionally scouted in that vicinity. This 
 information was exceedingly valuable to the refegees, 
 for by it they discovered the whereabouts of the Federal 
 forces. 
 
 When about fifteen miles from Williamsburg, the party 
 came upon the main road, and found the traeks of a large 
 body of cavalry. A piece of paper found by Captain 
 Jones satisfied him that they were Union cavalry, but 
 his companions were suspicious, and avoided the road 
 and moved forward, and at the " Burnt Ordinary" (about 
 ten miles from Williamsburg) awaited the return of the 
 cavalry that had moved up the road, and from behind a 
 fence corner where they were secreted, the fugitives saw 
 the flag of the Union, supported by a squadron of cavalry, 
 which proved to be a detachment of Colonel Spear's 
 Eleventh Pennsylvania Eegiment, sent out for t"he purpose 
 of picking up escaped prisoners. 
 
 The party rode into Williamsburg with the cavalry, 
 where they were quartered for the night, and where tney 
 found eleven others who had escaped safely. Colonel 
 Spear and his command furnished the officers with cloth* 
 ing and other necessaries.. 
 
 At all points along the route was their reception by 
 the negroes most enthusiastic, and there was no lack of 
 white people who sympathized with them, and helpcjd 
 them on their way. 
 
 ADVENTUEES OP AN AEKANSAS EEFTOEE. 
 
 When General (then Colonel) Sigel fell back from Car- 
 thage, Mo., to Mt. Vernon, in' thb summer of 1861, one 
 De Witt C. Hopkins, a refugee frcim Arkansas, who had 
 
230 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 
 
 acted as the General's guide, determined to revisit his 
 home, and if possible put himself in such an attitude 
 that he could remain there until other opportunities should 
 be presented to give information to the Federal army. 
 To this end he arrayed himself in the home-spun of the 
 count;*y — a process, however, that required but slight 
 modifications of his former garb — and started out alone 
 and on a circuitous route, first for Lower Kansas and the 
 Indian Nation. Arriving at Humboldt, he struck thence 
 for the Neosho Eiver, down that to Grand Eiver, and from 
 the latter stream wended his way to the Grand Saline 
 (salt works) in the Cherokee Nation. He then purchased 
 a pair of Indian ponies, with the view ostensibly of selling 
 them to the Confederate army, when he should have 
 reached it from below. From the Grand Saline he went 
 to Telequah, and from thence to Maysville, Benton County, 
 Arkansas. 
 
 Learning that the rebels were concentrating again and 
 reorganizing their forces on Cowskin Prairie, he entered 
 the camp from the southwest, leading one pony and riding 
 the other. Meeting, a number of old acquaintances, he 
 regretted very much his inability to be at the Carthage 
 fight, and rejoiced with them over the easy surrender of 
 the redoubtable Teuton, who commanded at Neosho. 
 His character as a sympathizing Indian trader giving 
 him ready currency, he sold one of his animals, and re- 
 taining the other, passed on homeward, but soon found 
 that he could not remain in safety. His sudden disap- 
 pearance at a critical juncture had been observed, and he 
 saw that he was an object of suspicion. A very few days, 
 in fact, suf&ced to warn him of his danger, and he was com- 
 pelled to abandon his father's roof for the woods hard by. 
 
 On one occasion he was near the house, when a party 
 of men rode suddenly up and demanded his forthcoming. 
 Listening to their conversation with his father, he gathered 
 enough of it to induce him to show himself, to prevent 
 the burning of the ho^ise, but in such a way that his pre- 
 
ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 231 
 
 sence should be felt as well as seen. He was well 
 mounted, an intrepid rider, and dashing past them, dis- 
 charged both barrels of a shotgun, and spurred into a 
 thicket. Attention was now directed from the house, the 
 party riding after him, save two crippled rebels, who were 
 the unfortunate recipients of this unexpected salutation. 
 Escape, nevertheless, was easy; and as soon as his pur- 
 suers were baffled, young Hopkins cautiously approached 
 the house of Small Cloud Spicer, acting Chief of the 
 Seneca Nation. A minor. Curly Eye Butterfly, was the 
 heir apparent, but to Small Cloud was intrusted the 
 management of the affairs of the tribe, and Hopkins, pre- 
 viously acquainted with him, believed his protection to 
 be worth the seeking. It was cheerfully, but cautiously 
 accorded, and to avoid suspicion, a hiding place a short 
 distance off, near the Cowskin Kiver, was pointed out. 
 There Hopkins secreted himself for several daj^s, his food 
 being brought to him by an Indian maiden, daughter of 
 • Small Cloud, when learning that his enemies had left 
 the vicinity, he ventured to return home. 
 
 Shortly after this occurrence, a dancing party assembled 
 at the house of a Captain Parks, in the Cherokee Nation. 
 Ascertaining in advance that a number of rebel officers 
 were expected to grace the occasion with their presence, 
 Hopkins determined to attend, for the double purpose of 
 enjoying himself and gathering information of army 
 movements. Inviting an Indian girl, he led her in due 
 time to the floor, but had scarcely done so when a stal- 
 wart Cherokee brushed past him in a manner that, by 
 the customs of the tribe, could only be construed into a 
 deliberate affront. It was so intended, in fact, for the 
 same dusky damsel had declined him as an escort to the 
 dance, our friend having preoccupied the ground. The 
 insult was properly resented, and the ball came suddenljr 
 and tragically to a close. While the company had been 
 assembling, young Hopkins learned that a movement 
 was in contemplation against General Lyon, but not pos- 
 
232 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 
 
 sessed of sufficient information to warrant the hazards 
 of a trip to Union headquarters, returning home he ten- 
 dered his services to Greneral Rains. They were accepted, 
 and he was established at headquarters, a voluntary aide- 
 de-camp without rank or braid. 
 
 On the 9th of August the rebels were so to move, as 
 to attack Springfield at daylight on the 10th, and Hopkins, 
 becoming satisfied that such was the intention, essayed 
 to reach the Federal lines. He was arrested, however, 
 just outside of the rebel lines, by a patrol of Louisiana 
 troops, and it required all his coolness and address to 
 sustain, even partiallj^, the character of forager for the 
 General's mess. Considered a suspicious personage, he 
 was taken to camp, and placed under guard, his case to 
 be disposed of after the expected battle then absorbing 
 attention. For various reasons, the contemplated advance 
 on the night of the 9th was not made, and on the follow- 
 ing morning the battle was fought at Wilson's Creek, 
 ten miles southwesterly from Springfield. During the 
 engagement Hopkins was kept with Woodruff's battery, 
 but in the evening the guards left him, wild, like their 
 comrades, over the unexpected success of the rebel arms. 
 Springing now on to a horse, he rode rapidly homeward. 
 Alternating between the house and the woods, he re- 
 mained in the vicinity until General Fremont's arrival at 
 Springfield, an event that hastened his departure, success- 
 fully now, to the Federal lines. Arriving at Flat Creek, 
 he reported to Stgel, commanding the advance, and was 
 placed at once in the corps of secret service men. In 
 Januar}^ following he was sent southward by General 
 Curtis, then commanding the Army of the Southwest, to 
 proceed to the Arkansas River. 
 
 The rebels then held Arkansas and Southwestern Mis- 
 souri ; were making extensive preparations for the battle 
 fought afterwards at Pea Ridge, and to enter their lines, 
 much mor~e to pass through them to the river in question, 
 was an undertaking^ as difficult as hazardous. Providincr 
 
ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 233 
 
 himself with a suit of the most approved Confederate gray ,* 
 dyeing his hair and whiskers ; adjusting a pair of goggles ; 
 mounting a " C. S." horse, and assuming the character of 
 a Missouri officer, returning from a recruiting expedition, 
 he struck into the Indian Nation, and then boldly south- 
 v/ard. It required now all his address to ayoid suspicion, 
 but his confidence increased with his peril. 
 
 Courage on the battle-field, questionable ofttimes, as 
 advancing columns approach each other, is thoroughly 
 roused by a few volleys, but the cool, deliberate daring 
 of the spy — the resolution that braves reproach, igno- 
 Ininyy^and death, belongs to men of other stamp. The 
 services of this class are as old as war, and though the 
 spy may occasionally fail of his object, and impart infor- 
 mation to be received with allowances, he is indispensable, 
 and so far as money can reward, government looks well 
 to his interests. 
 
 At the time of which we write, Fort Smith, situated at 
 the junction of the Arkansas and Poteau Rivers, and di- 
 rectly on the line between the State of Arkansas and the 
 Choctaw Nation, was a central point in rebel scheming 
 in the Southwest ; where troops were gathered ; from 
 which news of importance to the army was set in motion, 
 and where, within the fortress of the same name, magnates 
 of the new Confederacy met to eat, drink, and plot treason. 
 Here, in February, 1862, Ben McCullough sneered at 
 Northern prowess ; and here, in March, was buried, falling 
 at Pea Ridge, before the aim of Peter Pellican, a private 
 of Company " B," of the 36th Illinois Infantry Volunteers. 
 The officers' mess at the fort was kept by a Mrs. Preston, 
 and it was customary to lay the table for supper imme- 
 diately after dark. Formality in coming and going was 
 dispensed with; the place in this particular assuming 
 more the character of a restaurant than officers' quarters. 
 Of these peculiarities Hopkins was cognizant, and moving 
 rapidly through the Cherokee Nation, arrived on the 
 evening of the fourth day out at a friendly house on the 
 
234 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 
 
 nortliern bank of the Arkansas, a mile from tlie fort. 
 During tlie night, and the next day, he remained in the 
 neighboring cane, and as darkness set in moved for the 
 river. His garb securing ferriage across without diffi- 
 culty, he rode boldly up to the main entrance, saluted 
 the sentinel on duty as he passed, and with the air of an 
 habitue, dismounted in front of the officers' quarters, tied 
 his horse, and walked with the utmost nonchalance into 
 the supper room. 
 
 It so happened that the bell had just been rung, and 
 entering with others, he quietly took a seat at the foot of 
 the table. There were seated about it. General Mcintosh 
 (killed at Pea Kidge), Major Montgomery, of the Quarter- 
 master's Department, and other prominent officers. The 
 conversation turned "upon the all-absorbing events of the 
 time ; the probable advance of General Curtis, and their 
 own state of preparation, and was in nowise restrained by 
 the presence of the pseudo recruiting officer. The viands 
 disposed of, the position was becoming embarrassing, 
 and 'Hopkins wished for nothing so much, as that his 
 brother officers should rise and precede him from the room, 
 but they pertinaciously clung to their seats. At length, 
 conscious that he could remain no longer without exciting 
 suspicion, he rose and moved unconcernedly towards the 
 door. N'ow, for the first time, he arrested attention. As 
 he passed General Mcintosh, that officer turned sharply 
 around — 
 
 " Who do you belong to ?" he inquired, with more 
 emphasis than politeness. 
 
 " Quartermaster's Department, Little Eock !" was the 
 ready response. 
 
 " What's that you say ?" said Major Montgomery, start- 
 ing up from the other side of the table. 
 
 Seeing, on the instant, that his affairs were likely to 
 take a disastrous turn, and without venturing a reply, 
 he rushed quickly out, cut the strap with which his horse 
 was tied, and dashed for the fortress gate leading into 
 
ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 235 
 
 Garrison Avenue — tbe avenue to the river. For a few 
 moments the officers at the fort were so startled by the 
 strange occurrence that they lost their self-possession. 
 Eecovering it, they gave the alarm ; shouted to the sen- 
 tinel on duty at the gate to "halt the dare-devil," and 
 harmlessly discharged one or two pistols. "Bj this time 
 Hopkins had passed the guard, though shot at and slightly 
 wounded as he darted by, and was galloping at a furious 
 rate down the avenue. Arriving at the river he spurred 
 his horse boldly in, and sliding off in a manner, not un- 
 familiar to those whose army experiences have compelled 
 them to swim streams too deep to be forded, grasped the 
 animal by the caudal extremity, and making a rudder of 
 himself, landed finally on the opposite bank. , Eemaining 
 unobserved that night and the next day in the friendly 
 cane, while an active search was being made for him, appa- 
 rently in almost every direction, he then struck northward, 
 moving up by Frog Bayou through Crawford, Washington, 
 and Benton Counties, Arkansas, and after the lapse of se- 
 veral days reported to General Sigel. 
 
 While McCullough's army was lying at Cross Hollows 
 in the February following, Hoyjkins appeared within the 
 lines with two artillery horses for sale. Eeadily bargain- 
 ing them away for Confederate notes, he delivered one, 
 and at his own request was permitted to retain the other 
 until the following morning. Meantime he quietly pre- 
 pared to run the pickets, and about 9 o'clock in the even- 
 ing approached those stationed on the telegraph road 
 leading to Elk Horn Tavern. 
 
 " Who comes there ?" shouted a voice from the road 
 side. 
 
 " Friend with the countersign," was the quick reply. 
 
 " Advance, friend, and give it." 
 
 Hopkins now rode rapidly forward, answered the de- 
 mand with the quick discharge of both barrels of a shot 
 gun at the astonished soldiers, and spurring onward 
 I through the darkness, was soon out of harm's way. A 
 
236 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 
 
 montli later he participated in the battle on Pea Eiclge, 
 and after that engagement, was for some time employed 
 as a general scout for the post at Cassville. Thus engaged 
 when Col. Harrison began recruiting for the First Arkan- 
 sas Cavalry, he ardently seconded his efforts, and received 
 power to recruit for the proposed regiment. 
 
 On the 5th of April, 1862, he left Cassville, and shortly 
 after midnight of the same day arrived at the Widow 
 Christie's, on Pool's Prairie, Newton County, Missouri. 
 Tired, hungry, and drenched with rain, he roused the 
 occupants, and was admitted to the house. His horse, 
 upon the advice of the widow, was secreted in the neigh- 
 boring bushes, as Livingston's men, notorious bush- 
 whackers, were constantly prowling about the locality. 
 He had scarcely disposed himself by the fire, when the 
 house-dog raised a warning bark, that was answered by 
 the clearly distinguishable clattering of hoofs close to the 
 house. Yerily the Philistines were now upon him, though 
 not probably aware of his presence. His feminine friend, 
 alarmed, nevertheless, for his safety, threw up the quilts 
 and mattress of a bed in an adjoining room, and told him 
 to jump underneath them. In he went with boots, spurs, 
 hat, and a fair representation of southwestern mud. The 
 clothes were covered over him, and save a moderate 
 increase of altitude, the bed was in statu quo. The 
 a*pproaching party were indeed Livingston's men, and a 
 few minutes later they entered the house. The widoAV 
 accounted for the light at so unusual an hour by saying 
 that she was unwell, and had risen to prepare a warm 
 cup of tea. 
 
 The excuse was satisfactory, and after a brief halt the 
 marauders departed. Hopkins now emerged from his 
 place of concealment, and shortly afterwards wa& gallop- 
 ing away to the westward. Eecruiting as he passed 
 along, he "had collected between twenty and thirty men, 
 when his services as a scout were desired by Major Hub- 
 bard, of the First Missouri Cavalry, then scouring south- 
 
ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 23 T 
 
 western Missouri. They were promptly given, and to 
 his intrepid guidance is due much of the praise properly 
 accorded to the Union forces for their operations against 
 Waitie, Coffee, and the rebel Indians, in the spring of 
 1862. 
 
 After the affair at Neosho, Mo., in which Major Hub- 
 bard obtained a signal success over the enemy, Hopkins, 
 worn down with incessant riding, left the command, and 
 repaired to a private house for rest. A portion of the 
 37th Illinois Infantry Volunteers had encamped near by, 
 and it was Hopkins' intention to move on with them in 
 the morning to' Cassville. When morning came, how- 
 ever, the troops had departed, and he found himself alone 
 in the enemy's country. Nothing was left, of course, but 
 to follow on, which he did, gayly and unconcernedly — 
 for the rebels had been most thoroughly whipped — when 
 suddenly there sprang from the roadside, as he was pass- 
 ing a secluded spot, half a dozen armed men, who checked 
 him with a well understood " Halt !" There was no al- 
 ternative, and he surrendered. This occurrence took 
 place on the 27th of April. On the 1st of May he was 
 sent under charges as a spy, by Colonel Waitie, to General 
 Cooper's headquarters, on Buck Creek, in the Choctaw 
 Nation, and from thence to Fort McCullough, where G-ene- 
 ral Pike, as commander of the district of Indian Territory, 
 was then stationed. Here he was detained two weeks, 
 but .uniformly treated with great kindness by General 
 Pike. Eeturned then to Cooper's command he was for- 
 warded from it to Norfolk, on the north fork of the Cana- 
 dian River, and from thence to Colonel Waitie's camp, 
 then pitched on Cowskin Prairie, in southwestern Mis- 
 souri. 
 
 His trial was now entered upon, but while pending, an 
 adjournment took place, and he was sent to Fort Smith, 
 where the rem.ainder of the evidence against him was to 
 be taken. At that place the trial was concluded, the 
 prisoner convicted and sentenced to be hung, and the 
 
238 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 
 
 record sent up to General Pike, for the usual supervision 
 of a commanding officer. The result of his reviewing 
 was a reversal of the decision of the court below, on the 
 ground that the offence committed, if committed at all, 
 took placje within the territorial limits of the State of Mis- 
 souri, which, so far as the Government of the Confederate 
 States was concerned, was conquered territory in the 
 possession of the Federal forces ; and that therefore Hop- 
 kins could not, by the laws of war, be regarded as a spy, 
 but was entitled to the treatment and disposition given to 
 other prisoners of Avar. He was held, nevertheless, but his 
 confinement was made less rigorous, the freedom of a dun- 
 geon being substituted for the close quarters of a ball and 
 chain, with a staple in the floor to give theni locality. 
 
 About this time Majors Hubbard and Miller made their 
 dashing entrance into Fayetteville, and the report came to 
 Fort Smith that Judge David Walker, a rebel sympa- 
 thizer, had been killed. The rebels at the fort were quite 
 naturally enraged at such a proceeding, and " blood for 
 blood" was demanded for the supposed outrage. Hop- 
 kins was their selection, and his execution was ordered 
 to take place one afternoon at four o'clock. Fortunately, 
 on the morning of the dreaded day, ne^ys was received 
 that Judge Walker was still alive and unharmed, and the 
 execution was indefinitely postponed. Hopkins now re- 
 ceived the treatment to which he was entitled, and on the 
 2d of August, 1862, left Fort Smith for exchange at 
 Cassville. Eeportingto Colonel Harrison at Springfield, 
 he was promoted to the captaincy of a company of the 
 regiment in which he had enlisted some months pre- 
 viously, and since re-entering the service has been con- 
 stantly on duty, proving himself under all circumstances 
 to be a very bold, daring, and efficient officer. 
 
HOW THE SECESII TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 239 
 
 HOW TEE SEOESH TOOK OLAEK WEIGHT. 
 
 Maj. Clark AATright, who has obtained considerable 
 prominence during the present war as a scout and a 
 soldier — having been in command of a squadron of the 
 same character as himself — moved from Ohio to Polk 
 County, Missouri, in 1858, and, buying a large amount of 
 prairie, commenced the business of stock raising. He 
 was just before married to a woman of more than ordi- 
 nary intelligence and determination, who proved herself 
 eminently fitted for the duties which their new life im- 
 posed upon them. He prospered greatly, and in a short 
 time had erected a fine house, furnished in the best style 
 possible, had two young children, an amiable wife, a good 
 home, and was adding rapidly to an originally large for- 
 tune. 
 
 When the roar of secession came up from South Caro- 
 lina, he heard it in common with others of his neighbors, 
 but while ayowing himself in favor of sustaining the 
 Union, he determined to attend strictly to his own busi- 
 ness. He had no hesitation in expressing his sentiments 
 of loyalty to the government, but he did it quietly, and 
 with a view not to give offence. Soon after, at a Baptist 
 meeting near his residence, a few of the brethren, after 
 refreshing their spiritual appetites with the crumbs of 
 the sanctuary, took his case into consideration, and unani- 
 mously determined that he should be made to leave the 
 country, and appointing a committee of three to inform 
 him of their decision. 
 
 One of the party, although an ardent secessionist, hap- 
 pened to be a personal friend of Wright, and hastening 
 away, informed him of the meeting, and that the committee 
 Avould wait on him the next day, Monday. Wright 
 thanked his kind friend, and, then like a dutiful husband, 
 laid the case before his wife, and asked her advice. She 
 pondered a few moments, and then asked him if he had 
 
240 HOW THE SECESH TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 
 
 done anything to warrant such a proceeding. Nothing. 
 "Then let ns fight!" was the reply; and to fight was the 
 conclusion. Wright was plentifully supplied with revol- 
 vers ; he took two, and his wife another, loaded them care- 
 fully, and waited further developments. 
 
 Monday afternoon three men rode up and inquired for 
 Mr. Wright. He walked out, with the butt of a revolver 
 sticking warily from his coat pocket, and inquired their 
 wishes. The revolver seemed to upset their ideas. They 
 answered nothing in particular, and proceeded to converse 
 upon everything in general, but never alluded to their 
 errand. Fin'ally, after a half hour had passed, and the 
 men still talked on without coming to the mission, Wright 
 grew impatient, and asked if they had any special busi- 
 ness; if not, he had a pressing engagement, and would 
 like to be excused. Well, they had a little business, said 
 one, with considerable hesitation, as he glanced at the 
 revolver butt. 
 
 " Stop," says Wright, " before you tell it, I wish to say 
 a word. I knoiv your business, and I just promised my 
 wife, on my honor as a man, that I would blow h — 11 out 
 of the man who told me of it, and by the eternal God, I'Jl: 
 do it ! Now tell me your errand !" and as he concluded 
 he pulled out his revolver, and cocked it. The fellow 
 glanced a moment at the deadly looking pistol, and took 
 in the stalwart form of Wright, who was glaring at him 
 with mnrder in his qjq, and concluded to postpone the 
 announcement. The three rode away, and reported the 
 reception to their principals. 
 
 The next Sunday, after another refreshing season, the 
 brethren again met and took action upon the contumac}^ 
 of Mr. Wright. The captain of a company of secessionists 
 was present, and, after due deliberation, it -was deter- 
 mined that upon the next Thursday he should take his 
 command, proceed to Wright's, and summarily eject him 
 from the sacred soil of Missouri. Wright's friend was 
 again present, and he soon communicated the state of 
 
HOW THE SECESII TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 241 
 
 affairs to Mr. Wright, with a suggestion that it would 
 save trouble ancl^ bloodshed if he got away before the 
 day appointed.. 
 
 'Wright lived in a portion of the country remote from 
 the church and the residence of those who were endea- 
 voring to drive him out, and he determined, if possible, 
 to prepare a surprise for the worthy captain and his gal- 
 lant forces. To this end he botight a barrel of whiskey, 
 another of crackers, a few cheeses, and some other pro- 
 visions, and then mounting a black boy upon a swift 
 horse, sent him around the country inviting his friends 
 to come and see him and bring their ai^fns. By Wednes- 
 day night he had gathered a force of about three hundred 
 men, to whom he communicated the condition of things, 
 and asked their assistance. They promised to back him 
 to the death. The next day they concealed themselves in 
 a cornfield back of the house, and avv^aited the develop- 
 ment of events. 
 
 A little after noon the captain and s(^me eighty men 
 rode up to the place and inquired for Mr. Wright. That 
 gentleman immediately made his appearance, when the 
 captain informed him that, being satisfied of his aboli- 
 tionism, they had come to eject him from the State. 
 
 " Won't you give me two days to settle up my affairs ?" 
 asked Wright. 
 
 "Two days be d — d! I'll give you five minutes to 
 pack up your traps and leave here." 
 
 " But I can't get ready in five minutes. I have a fine 
 property here, and a happy home, and if you drive me 
 off' you'll make me a beggar. I have done nothing; if I 
 go, my wife and children must starve !" 
 
 " To h — 11 with your beggars ! You must travel !" 
 
 " Give me two hours !" 
 
 "I'll give you just five minutes, and not a second 
 longer ! If you ain't out by that time (here the gallant 
 I soldier swore a most fearful oath), I'll blow out youi' cursed 
 'abolition heart!" 
 16 
 
242 HOW THE SECESH TOOK CLARK WRIGHT. 
 
 "Well, if I must; I must!'' and Wright turned toward 
 the liouse as if in deep' despair, gave a preconcerted 
 whistle, and almost instantly after, the concealed forces 
 rushed out, and surrounded the astonished captain and 
 his braves. 
 
 " Ah, captain," said Wright, as lie turned imploringly 
 toward him, " won't you grant me two days — two hours, 
 at least, my brave friend, only two hours in whicb to 
 prepare myself and family for beggary and starvation — • 
 now do, won't you ?" 
 
 The captain could give no reply, but sat upon his 
 horse, shaking as if ague-smitten. 
 
 "Don't kill me!" he at length found voice to say, 
 
 " Kill you ! No, you black-livered coward, I won't dirty 
 my hands with any such filthy work. If I kill you, I'll 
 have one of my niggers do it ! Get down from that 
 horse !" 
 
 The gallant captain obeyed, imploring only for life. 
 The result of t^ie matter was that the whole company 
 dismounted, laid down their arms, and tben, as they were 
 ■filed out, were sworn to preserve their allegiance inviolate 
 to the United States. An hour after, Mr. Wright had 
 organized a force of 240 men for the war, and by accla- 
 mation was elected captain. The next Sunday he started 
 with his command to join the National troops under Lyon, 
 stopping long enough on his way to surround the Hard- 
 shell Church, at which had originated all of his miseries. 
 After the service was over, he administered the oath of 
 allegiance to every one present, including the Keverend 
 Pecksniff, who officiated, and then left them to plot treason 
 and worship God in their own peculiarly pious and har- 
 monious manner. 
 
A RACE FOR LIFE. 243 
 
 A EAOE FOR LIPE. 
 
 The following narrative is given, as nearly as possible, 
 in the words of the party immediately involved, and is 
 another exemplification of the barbarism of slavery : — 
 
 I had been doing a heavy wholesale and retail provi- 
 sion business in the city of Augusta, Georgia, for two 
 years, and was getting along with the inhabitants very 
 smoothly, until a little circumstance transpired in the fall 
 of 1860 which incited the populace against me. I had 
 taken more or less interest in political affairs while' I 
 lived there, and, as much from policy as anything else, 
 adopted a conservative view of matters. I was a strong 
 Bell and Everett man, and when the State Convention 
 was in session, I was mentioned as one of the State elec- 
 tors. 
 
 As it was known that I came from Iowa, some of my 
 political constituents wrote to the latter city for informa- 
 i tion as to my antecedents. The letter was addressed to 
 one of the prominent law firms of Dubuque, and for some 
 unaccountable reason answered in such a manner as to 
 ' direct the deepest indignation of the community^ where I 
 lived towards me. They were informed that I was a 
 loud-mouthed abolitionist, and had stumped the State of 
 Iowa for Fremont. Within a short time of the receipt 
 of that letter my house was surrounded by an infuriated 
 mob, eager to wreak a blind vengeance on me. I ap- 
 pealed to the mayor, who was a warm personal friend of 
 mine, for protection. He responded by calling out the 
 entire police force to disperse. the rabble. 
 
 Myself and son-in-law stood all that night at the head 
 of the first flight of stairs, in my house, with fire-arms 
 and axes, resolved to sell our lives as dearly as possible, 
 should the miscreants break in. My brave wife knew 
 no fear, and would not leave my si^^e, although I en- 
 treated her to do so. She seemed nerved to desperation. 
 
244. A RACE FOR LIFE. 
 
 by our common danger, and ready to face and sacrifice 
 her life, if necessary, in defence of our home. 
 
 The people were pacified at last when they found us 
 too resolute to be imposed upon, and after a short time I 
 was allowed to pursue my business as usual. I satisfied 
 them apparently that I did not entertain principles repug- 
 nant to their peculiar views, and convinced them that 
 the information they had received was a tissue of false- 
 hoods, yet there ever after lurked among them a suspi- 
 cion of my loyalty to the South. Thus we lived through 
 the winter, the community daily becoming more excited 
 and bitter against those who did not coincide to the 
 letter with the damnable opinions that then ruled- the 
 hour. 
 
 In illustration of this I will only cite one instance. A 
 party of merchants were discussing the impending crisis, 
 one afternoon in a store not far from mine, when one of 
 my neighbors made the following remark — " Gentlemen, 
 we must be careful, and not underrate the strength of the 
 enemy." That same night a committee called on him, 
 and asked liim if he had made such a remark, when he 
 replied, "Yes. I do not see the harm in it. It is one of 
 the first lessons in military strategy not to underrate the 
 power of the foe." His explanation availed him nothing. 
 He was seized, and one side of his head and face shaved 
 clean of the hair and whiskers. Then the newly shaved 
 portions were daubed with tar and feathers. He then re- 
 ceived forty lashes, and was given to understand that he 
 had twelve hours in which to make himself scarce. 
 
 This was not an isolated instance. Deeds of .violence 
 were of daily occurrence, and many times they resulted 
 •in the death of the victim. With such a state of society 
 boiling around me, I naturally felt anxious to remove 
 my family beyond all chance of injury. Finally, when 
 they had for some time been drafting troops from the 
 city for Jeff Davis' army, I foresaw the time when I would 
 be called on, and determined to remove my wife and 
 
A RACE FOR LIFE. 245 
 
 children to the Korth. I started off with them, and sent 
 them forward, while I returned to Augusta to close up 
 my business. 
 
 I continued in my trade there for a short time, endea- 
 voring to convert my property into funds that would be 
 current in Iowa. I dared not purchase gold at the bank 
 myselfj for fear of attracting the attention of the Vigilance 
 Committee. No one was allowed to leave the country 
 openly. Through the friendship of a young man named 
 Powers, who had been boarding with me, I purchased 
 some current funds, perhaps three or four hundred dollars. 
 He was a book peddler from Ohio, who had been selling 
 a work entitled, " Cotton i§ King," and it was through his 
 friendship and services mainly that I escaped. 
 
 One afternoon, an orderly sergeant came into my count- 
 ing room and informed me that it would be necessary, in 
 accordance with a recent requisition from Montgomery, 
 for me to enlist. I saw that it would not do to hesitate 
 an instant, and therefore manifested great readiness, and 
 eagerness to join. I was told I could have my choice 
 between infantry and cavalry, and that I must meet my 
 comrades that night at the armory. I chose to join the 
 cavalry, and at the appointed hour was on hand to enroll 
 my name. I was very zealous, apparently, in my wishes 
 to fight the abolitionists, and. by skilfully guarding my 
 speech, led my comrades to think I was the best seces- 
 sionist of them all. The sergeant presented me with a 
 splendid Colt's navy revolver, which had just been stolen 
 from the United States. I requested him to load it for 
 me, as I was not posted in that sort of thing. He did so. 
 Those five charges are still in the barrels, and so help 
 me, they shall never be fired off until they are discharged 
 into the body of the sergeant who loaded it. 
 
 I got away from the armory, and hurried home, where 
 I found Powers making preparations to go North by the 
 next train, which left at half past ten that night. I told 
 him I must get away from Augusta that night at any 
 
246 A RACE FOR LIFE. 
 
 cost. I asked him to take my carpet-bag on board the 
 train, and if I did not call for it in a certain time, to send 
 it to my family in Dubuque. He said he would do so. 
 
 I locked up my store and house, the one completely 
 furnished from top to bottom, and the other containing 
 some nine thousand dollars' worth of goods, which I was 
 obliged to leave behind to fall into the hands of the rebels. 
 
 I then repaired to the depot nearly an hour before the 
 time for the departure of the train, and secreted myself 
 under the rear car, on a cross-piece which connected the 
 wheels. Grasping my pistol in my hand, and resolving 
 to shoot the first man who should discover me, I waited 
 for events. Soon after I haid gained this position the 
 Vigilance Committee came into the depot. They were 
 a party of men appointed to see that no Northern men 
 went away on the train, and to exercise a general surveil- 
 lance over all suspicious characters. If they discovered 
 a Northern man, he was taken out, whipped, and otherwise 
 maltreated — usually shot ; so I knew what my fate would 
 be, if I was detected. As the hour for starting drew near, 
 my suspense was agonizing in the extreme. Finally a 
 little incident occurred which probably insured my sal- 
 vation from their clutches. The committee went through 
 the cars after the passengers were seated, and closely 
 questioning and scrutinizing every individual. In one 
 car they found an old man who answered to the descrip- 
 tion of a man who had been tarred and feathered at 
 Savannah and shipped off Appending to the dispatch 
 describing him, was the Christian injunction, "If you 
 catch him, give him hell." 
 
 One of the ruffians lifted his gray locks and saw the 
 tar still adhering to his brow, where he had been unable 
 to remove it. He fairly yelled with delight " Here's the 
 old devil. We've got him !" etc. etc. They howled and 
 then dragged him from the car to the platform outside, 
 although they did not know of a thing he had done amiss. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the aged man respectfully, "I am an 
 
A RACE FOR LIFE. 247 
 
 old man, and do not know that I ever did any man wrong. 
 All I ask is for the privilege of getting home to my 
 family. I beg you will release me." 
 
 They laughed his entreaties to scorn, and bore him 
 away in the dark, screeching and yelling like demons, 
 doubtless to torture him with scourges, and perhaps to 
 murder him as they have so many before him. During 
 all this time I lay within a dozen feet of some of the 
 party, expecting every moment I would be discovered 
 by some uolucky friend. It is well for him and me he 
 did not, for that moment would have been the signal for 
 his death, I would have shot as many as I could, and 
 died dearly. 
 
 At last the train moved out of the depot slowly around 
 a curve, and when it was out of the range of the depot 
 lamps I dr(5^ped from my perch and clambered upon the 
 rear car. Going into the car, I sat down in the darkest 
 corner, and drew my hat over my face in order to escape 
 recognition. By f(^ning sleep I escaped the attention 
 and remarks of my townsmen, many of whom were on 
 board of the train, until morning, when we reached 
 Atlanta, some two hundred miles from Augusta. If I 
 could get beyond there I knew I was comparatively safe, 
 as there was no telegraph between that place and Chat- 
 tanooga, though there was one from Augusta to Atlanta. 
 
 It was daylight when we left Atlanta, so that further 
 concealment was impossible. My fellow passengers ex- 
 pressed considerable surprise at seeing me, and were 
 anxious to know where I was going. I informed them 
 that I was going to Chattanooga, as usual, to purchase a 
 large quantity of bacon, in which I was dealing exten- 
 sively. Men of my acquaintance, whom I knew to be in 
 the same business, were also going after bacon, beef, pork, 
 flour, and grain, and such other provisions as we were 
 forced to purchase in the more northern States 
 
 We ail talked secession loudly ; and wore cockades, 
 and invoked destruction upon the Federal government ; 
 
248 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 aad none were more Violent in the discussion than I. It 
 was my only alternative. I was fleeing for life, and the 
 merest hair might turn tjie race against me. When we 
 arrived at Chattanooga, we found the markets almost as 
 high as at Augusta, so we concluded to go on as far as 
 Nashville. On our arrival there we found that the Com- 
 missary of the Confederate army had fairly skinned the 
 town of everything worth having in the way of provisions, 
 so there was nothing left for us but to go on as far as 
 Louisville, where we could obtain an unlimited supply at 
 reasonable rates. 
 
 There were five cars of us all going for provisions. 
 At last we landed in Louisville, and found to our disap- 
 pointment (?) the inducements were so small for buying 
 there, the only alternative left was to go to the great 
 fountain head at Cincinnati, and buy whaf^we wanted. 
 We all went across the river into Indiana, and every soul 
 of us got aboard of the cars for Cincinnati. 
 
 Just before the train was about to start, an old man 
 arose and made this remai;k : " Gentlemen, I don't know 
 how you all feel, but I thank God I am on free soil once 
 more." Oh ! you should have heard the shoul; that went 
 up. Every man of us had been fleeing from Southern traitors, 
 and dare not avow"' it to each other. We all got out of 
 the cars again upon the platform, and there refreshed our 
 throats for once with three loud cheers for Freedom. 
 
 PLUOK ON THE FEONTIER. 
 
 Before the secession of Arkansas, one Thomas Wilhite 
 attached himself to a company of minute men, who were 
 to be ready at a moments warning to respond to the call 
 of public danger. The most of the company were at 
 heart Union men, and they secretl}^ resolved to make 
 their organization subservient to their own wishes. 
 While matters were in this situation, one James M. Scott 
 
PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 249 
 
 raised a secession flag in Cove Creek Township, and 
 called on the minute men to rally beneath it. The mi- 
 nutes just then became hours, and Wilhite and his com- 
 panions made haste to rally very shivly. In fact, they 
 flatly refused to do so, and Mr. Scott's banner hung lazily 
 from the staff, looking for all the world as though it had 
 been brought out to droop and die. Wilhite had now 
 thoroughly committed himself to the Union c^use, and it 
 behooved him to look well to his personal safety. The 
 rebel element predominated in his neighborhood, and the 
 " strikers" and " tools" of the secession leaders were im- 
 placable in their resentments. Not considering, however, 
 that his immediate pergonal peril was so great as to war- 
 rant an abrupt departure from the State, and yet feeling 
 that he must never 2^0 about unarmed, Wilhite remained 
 at home, and prepared to '' make a crop." When follow- 
 ing the plow, a trusty rifle was invariably slung from his 
 back, and a brace of revolvers were belted about him. 
 At night the rifle stood at the head of the bed, and he 
 often slept with his revolvers on. Several times, when 
 in the field, he descried men coming to take him prisoner. 
 He would t-hen leave the plow in the furrow, slip into 
 the woods, and remain there until his enemies went away. 
 There was no danger of their interfering with, the horses 
 or the plow. They knew too well the deadliness of his 
 aim, and the disagreeable doubt as to who would be his 
 victim, kept them all away from the peril. 
 
 One day in June, six rebels, knowing that he was at 
 home, rode hastily up to take him, but he was too quick 
 for them, and, dodging around a corner of the house, 
 with his rifle and revolvers, held his advantage while a 
 parley took place. They informed him that they had 
 come to arrest him because he was a Union man. He 
 informed them that they would have to reinforce and come 
 again, that six naen were not enough for the business, and 
 that if any of them " dropped a gun," one man would fall 
 sure, and they would not know beforehand who it was to 
 
250 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 be. Like their predecessors, who scouted the corn-field, 
 they returned as wise as they came, even requesting that 
 they might ride away unharmed. 
 
 Not long afterwards, another squad rode up to the 
 house for a similar purpose. Fortunately Wilhite was 
 absent, but his mother was considerately shown the rope 
 with which they intended to hang him. Going during 
 the same summer to Kidd's mill, near Cane Hill, for flour 
 for the family, a knot of men gathered around and " al- 
 lowed" to take him prisoner On the other hand, he 
 "allowed" that if they made any such attempt, he should 
 defend himself to the last ; that he had thirteen shots, and 
 should try his best to make some of them "tell," and 
 that they could not take him alive. His determination 
 subdued the crowd somewhat, and a merchant of the place, 
 interceding in his behalf on the ground that he might 
 yet make a good southern soldier, he was permitted to 
 transact his business at the mill and return home. 
 
 There was living at this time not far away from Wih 
 hite, a Baptist minister, known by many as "Old Tommy 
 Dodson, the preacher," otherwise rejoicing in the chris- 
 tened name of Thomas. He was a violent secessionist, 
 and preached whenever audiences could be assembled, 
 whether on the Sabbath or during the week ; nor did he 
 confine himself to Biblical teaching. The sword of the 
 spirit was not, in his judgment, the only weapon to be 
 wielded for the Confederacy. His tirades were frequent 
 and unsparing against Union men and Black Eepubli- 
 cans, who, if they did not recant, were to be driven off or 
 shot. On one occasion, when Wilhite attended his ser- 
 vices, the congregation was quite large for the locality, 
 and in it were several soldiers belonging to the regular 
 rebel array. The preacher's harangue savored, as usual, 
 of public affairs. The secession of the State was justi- 
 fied; the public functionaries at Eichmond lauded; a 
 highly-wrought prophecy of the grandeur of the new 
 Republic was pronounced; and then fell the ministerial 
 
PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER 251 
 
 denunciation on all tliose who still clung to the old go- 
 vernment. Warming- with his subject, and evidently 
 growing indignant, he exclaimed — 
 
 " If there is a Union man within the sound of ray voice, 
 I want him to leave the house, and leave it now — a." 
 
 Thinking it about time to depart, and having no re- 
 luctance to define his position, Wilhite started for the 
 door. 
 
 " Then, go — a," resumed the excited and now somewhat 
 exhausted preacher, moving towards the retreating Fed- 
 eral, " and darken not again the house of God. And do 
 you, my brave boys," pointing to the rebel soldiers, 
 " fight on for the glo-o-o-rious Southern Confederacy. 
 The Lord is on our side. The Lord will help us to gam 
 the independence of the South." By this time Wilhite 
 was in the yard, and the Eev. Thomas Dodson began 
 slowly to return to his normal condition. Eighteen 
 months later, the same clerical gentleman was an inmate 
 of the guard-house at Fayetteville, under charges for trial 
 before a military commission, to sit at Springfield, and 
 Wilhite was officer of the guard. 
 
 Alas ! the mutations of sublunary affairs. 
 
 The summer and autumn passed without any special 
 peril to Wilhite, other than that referred to, except that 
 the necessity for vigilance was greater, so much, in fact, 
 that in November he was compelled to " lay out." Anti- 
 cipating a winter of trouble, unless he were to take un- 
 usual precautions against it, he had, by night, hauled one 
 hundred bushels or corn and some other forage to a 
 secluded spot on the Boston Mountains, intending to pass 
 the winter in a cave and subsist a few horses. Li this 
 manner he lived, clandestinely, until the month of May, 
 with William Zinnamon, who, for a time, had been his 
 companion in the cave. 
 
 Colonel M. La Rue Harrison was then organizing the 
 Arkansian refugees into what subsequently became the 
 First Regiment of Arkansas Cavalry Yolunteers, and 
 
252 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 "Wilhite at once identified "himself witTi the project. 
 Being empowered not long afterwards as a recruiting 
 officer for the regiment, he left Springfield on the 5th of 
 July, with Dr. Wm. Hunter, of Washington County, and 
 Thomas J. Gilstrap, of Crawford County, afterwards 
 respectively assistant surgeon and a lieutenant in the 
 same regiment. -Falling in' with the expedition com- 
 manded by Major Miller, they proceeded with it to 
 Fayetteville, whence they moved on to the head of White 
 Eiver. 
 
 Eecruiting in Arkansas for the Union Army was at that 
 time a perilous undertaking. Loyal men avowed their 
 principles at the hazard of life, and the greatest difficulty 
 to be overcome w^as in getting recruits to the rendezvous 
 of the regiment for Avhich enlistments were being made. 
 The Provost Maj'shal's department of Arkansas, as organ- 
 ized by Major General Hindman, then commanding the 
 trans-Mississippi district, was in active operation. Numer- 
 ous companies of provost guards had been formed, and, 
 under color of orders, were robbing Union men and com- 
 mitting all manner of outrages. They were especially 
 zealous in their efforts to check the growing tendency to 
 enlist in the "Abolition Army," as they termed it, and 
 hunted with the eagerness of a bloodhound those Union 
 men who, first cautious, and then expeditious, abandoned 
 their homes for the woods, and the woods for the Federal 
 pickets. The general order gave license to rapine, and 
 stimulated the blind zeal of a prejudiced people. 
 
 By arrangement, Wilhite and Gilstrap, having for 
 recruiting purposes gone into different neighborhoods, 
 were to meet at a house on Fall Creek, in Washington 
 County, and there concert measures for the removal, or 
 getting northward rather, of their recruits. For some 
 reason or other, Gilstrap had departed on Wilhite's arri- 
 val, and the latter having with him twenty-eight men, 
 determined to retire into the White River Hills and the 
 Boston Mountains, and collecting from the adjoining 
 
PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER, 253 
 
 settlements still otiier men who were anxious to get away, 
 bide liis time for departure. At first he went to Winn's 
 Creek, at the head of the west^fork of White Eiver, His 
 re-appearance in a country where he was so well known, 
 and his object thoroughly understood, caused great watch- 
 fulness on the part of the secession element. One, Doctor 
 H. Spencer in particular, afterwards a citizen prisoner, at • 
 Springfield, Missouri, under the general charge of robbing 
 Union men, was yery active in his endeavors to find out 
 how many recruits Wilhite had. An old, vindictive 
 man, with a countenance that would have betrayed him 
 in a church, we well remember his appearance when 
 brought before us for examination. He had hunted 
 Wilhite and others as the woodman seeks his game, and 
 we made short work of preliminaries. Spencer, a home 
 guard himself, and co-operating with the bands now 
 organized and organizing under the general order before 
 mentioned, placed every impediment possible in the way 
 of the darinar recruitino^ ofRcer. 
 
 There were now in Crawford and Washington Counties, 
 carrying out the spirit, if not the letter of the order, no 
 ! less than six companies led by notorious marauders, all 
 ' of whom were on the track of Wilhite. He still, how- 
 I ever, succeeded in avoiding capture. His rendezvous 
 \ was the wilds of the Boston Mountains ; his subsistence 
 ! the irregular hospitality of secret Union men, and his 
 • comrades, now together and now apart, increased their 
 I numbers arid their resolution alike by daring and danger. 
 I His camp of instruction was a thicket or a hill, and his 
 j times for drill the opportune moments when provost 
 ' guards came within range, and his trusty weapons made 
 I targets of traitors. 
 
 I Lyiiig ill the woods one day in August, with six men, 
 ; a bloodhound was heard baying in the distance, and appa^ 
 j rently on his track. Like a general in the field, Wilhite im- 
 j mediately made '' his dispositions," each man taking a tree, 
 and re-examining his weapons. Their horses were tied m a 
 
254 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 thicket a short distance off, and they »now awaited the 
 approach. Presently a number of men were observed 
 advancing ; the hound had been called in, and they moved 
 very cautiously, dismounting when they observed Wilhite, 
 and creeping warily toward him. Discovering three men 
 evidently endeavoring to get a safe shot at him, he an- 
 ticipated their design by commencing hostilities with both ' 
 barrels of his shot-gun. Wounding two, the third placed 
 a tree between himself and danger, and, afterwards still 
 further increased his chances for life by slipping away 
 entirely. 
 
 This attack, more sudden and effective than they had 
 anticipated, cooled the ardor of the home guards, and 
 though a number of guns were fired, which but for the 
 friendly protection of the forest would have been deadly 
 in their effect, they fell back, remounted their horses, 
 and rode off. Wilhite now assumed the offensive, and 
 approaching the highway by a devious but rapid and 
 effective movement, came suddenly upon his foes of the 
 hour before Singling out the leader of the party as the 
 object of his personal aim, he missed the man, but killed 
 his horse. Several others, however, were wounded, but 
 succeeded in escaping. This little affair roused the leaders 
 again, and vigilance was redoubled. Kallying under the 
 provost marshal of Crawford County, two hundred camped 
 one evening at the three forks of Lee's Creek, in the county 
 last mentioned. From a high bluff adjacent to, and over- 
 looking their camp, "Wilhite had watched them for several 
 hours, and when night set in, knowing that he could not 
 attack, for he had but two men, he nevertheless deter- 
 mined to acquaint them with his proximity. Hallooing 
 with all his might, he informed whom it might concern, 
 that if they wanted "him they must catch him, as it wo aid ^ 
 be unpleasant just then to surrender. 
 
 How or why, we are unable to say, but early on the 
 following morning the guards decamped. Possibly they 
 feared an attack ; and then,^gain,' should they assume the 
 
PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 255 
 
 offensive, the disagreeable -ancertainty of the bushes was 
 too fresh in memory to be rashly courted. Wilhite lin- 
 gered long enough to see his enemies disappear, when he 
 dashed again into the woods. A short time after this 
 occurrence, his father was arrested while moving along 
 the highway near the west fork of the "White Eiver. 
 There was with him a small boy, who, not being inter- 
 fered with, hastened as expeditiously as he dared to the 
 hiding place, not far away, of two of Wilhite's men. 
 They were there, fortunately, and knowing where Wil- 
 hite then was, lost no time in acquainting him with his 
 father's arrest. Hurriedly collecting four of his men, he 
 started down the Yan Buren Koad, and after a sharp run 
 of nine miles, overtook his father, then guarded by seven 
 men. Four of the guards "broke" for the woods, and 
 the remaining three were taken, dismounted, relieved of 
 , their arms, and then set at liberty. 
 
 ; . About this time a warrant for the arrest and execution 
 I of Wilhite was procured from the rebel military author- 
 I ities. It proving somewhat difficult to proceed under 
 this warrant, according to its exigency, General Hind man 
 I offered a reward of seven thousand dollars, and three 
 i honorable discharges from the Confederate service to any 
 I man who would bring in Wilhite, living or dead. xsTo- 
 ! tices to this effect were numerously posted along Cove, 
 \ Fall, and Lee's Creeks, and the west fork of White Eiver. 
 Scouting about one day in September, with a number of 
 I his men, and having occasion to cross Lee's Creek near 
 I the base of the southern slope of the Boston Mountains, 
 j Wilhite discovered one of these notices tacked to a tree. 
 i Claiming the right to " cross notice," he appropriated the 
 j margin to his own use by inscribing thereon, a notification 
 I to this effect : That his men and himself claimed forty 
 I square miles of. the Boston Mountains, and that if Hind- 
 ] man and his provost guards trespassed upon their do- 
 I minions, they would seek to drive them into the valley 
 below, and there assume the* offensive. He now takes 
 
256 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 
 
 from Lis pocket tlie Jack of diamonds, nails it to tlie tree, 
 writing above the head of this well-known gentleman the 
 significant word " Union," informed " Squire" Hindman, 
 that if he wants him he must first catch him, and to be 
 careful at the same time that he does not " catch a Tartar." 
 The party now rode off. 
 
 A few days later, when Wilhite was lying in the woods 
 near the summit of the Boston Mountains, word came to 
 him that General Hindman himself had just eaten dinner 
 at a house not far distant, and that he was then on the 
 road to Fayetteville, moving in a carriage with a body 
 guard of but six men. Hastily gathering a few of his com- 
 panions, Wilhite took up the pursuit. Bearing still- further 
 from the highway than he then was, he thought to strike 
 it again in advance of the General, but in this he failed. 
 In the distance, however, he descried the coveted car- 
 riage, and hastened forward with all speed. The pursued 
 now took alarm and hurried aAvay northward. The chase 
 was becoming exciting, but unfortunately for the pursuers 
 they were nearing the rebel pickets at Hog Eye, twelve 
 miles south of Fayetteville. Conscious that they had no 
 time to lose, Wilhite and two of his men took as steady 
 aim as circumstances would admit, and away whizzed a 
 ball after the carriage, a second, and then a third. But 
 General Hindman Avas still safe, though the pursuit did 
 not cease until the pickets, his body guard and the car- 
 riage went pell-mell into the poetically named village so 
 conveniently at hand.- The pursuers now wheeled about 
 and hied away to their fastnesses. 
 
 Leading thus a life of wild adventure, Wilhite passed 
 his time on, and in the vicinity of the Boston Mountains, 
 until the advance into Arkansas of the Army of the 
 Frontier in October, 1862. His escapes from peril were 
 manifold. His superior knowledge, however, of the 
 woods, and his consciousness of the fact that nature would 
 permit only a few men to operate against him at a time, 
 gave him confidence and strength, and though there were 
 
PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 25t 
 
 hundreds of rebels on all sides of him, to the Boston 
 Mountains he did not bid adieu, until of his own volition 
 he reported with a small squad of men to General Hgr- 
 roQ, at Cross Hollows, twentj-eight miles south of the 
 Missouri line. As early as August it had been found 
 impracticable to take a number of recruits northward in 
 a body, and Wilhite had accordingly determined to remain 
 in the mountains, annoying the enemy and taking ven- 
 geance upon those who had so cruelly robbed and mal- 
 treated Union men, until his passage could be safely and 
 easily made. 
 
 From Cross Hollows, Wilhite proceeded to Elkhorn 
 Tavern, where he rejoined his company, and was at once 
 appoirfted its first lieutenant, a position that had been left 
 vacant for months in the hope that he would yet arrive 
 to fill it. From that time onward Wilhite w^as constantly 
 engaged in active service, alwaj^s entering with zest upon 
 the adventures for which there is so much incentive on 
 the border. On one occasion, while scouting below Fay 
 etteville, and not far from his haunts of the summer pre- 
 vious, he drove in Marmaduke's pickets, and then suddenly 
 wheeling was off again to the northward. He partici- 
 pated in a nocturnal skirmish, and while out made a 
 descent into a cave, under circumstances vv^orthy perhaps 
 of a relation. 
 
 The cave in question was located about six miles south- 
 east of Black's Mills, in Benton County, and was one in 
 which men were known to occasionally secrete themselves. 
 To it, on the afternoon preceding the skirmish, the detach- 
 ment was conducted. .Arriving at its mouth, and observ- 
 ing traces of the recent entrance of some one, the men 
 were disposed semi-circularly around it, and the unknown 
 individual told to come out. No response. The order 
 was repeated. Still no answer. Wilhite now volunteered 
 to crawl in. Buckling a brace of revolvers firmly about 
 him, and grasping a third in his right hand, he com- 
 menced operations. Advancing upon all fours, and 
 '17 
 
258 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 
 
 moving about seventy-five yards into the cave, situated 
 on a hill side, he discovered a man crouching in ap- 
 parently great fear. Breaking the silence by ordering 
 him out, the figure began to move and he to follow. As 
 the unknown individual approached the light, the men 
 brought their pieces to the shoulder and awaited his ap- 
 pearance. Presently emerged a head, then shoulders, 
 arms and hands. At sight of the men and their weapons, 
 the unknown stopped while yet. midway between the 
 upper and nether earth, rested himself firmly on his hands, 
 and looking queerly up and around him, exclaimed, 
 " Well ! this beats me I" He was beaten surely enough, 
 but found his captors inclined to treat him kindly. 
 Taken to Elkhorn he was afterwards released, but cau- 
 tioned to refrain in the future from running when he saw 
 Federals. Thus far the advice has been heeded. 
 
 A NIGHT ADYEXTUEE ON THE POTOMAC. 
 
 I was invited by a soldier of the regiment of the " Fire 
 Zouaves" to accompany him in one of those private ad- 
 ventures which were so popular among the men in his 
 corps,* while upon the banks of the Potomac. 
 
 This kind of expedition always carries with it a charm 
 which inflames the imagination of the volunteer to a de- 
 gree unknown in the more precise movements of a regu- 
 lar force. The individual courage of the man seems lost 
 in comparison among a concentrated mass which depends 
 for its success not so much upon personal prowess as 
 upon a mechanical exactitude in its evolutions. 
 
 Men of the description of my adventurous friend are 
 generally despisers of stiff-collared coats and close drill, 
 and especial admirers of a loose jacket and a " free fight." 
 With them a martinet, unless he prove a fighter, is simply 
 an abomination. 
 
 In a few words, accompanied by some mysterious ges- 
 
A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. '259 
 
 tares, my friend H informed me tliat, throngli tlie 
 
 disclosures of a deserter wlio^hacL just arrived from the 
 rebel lines, he had learned that a quantity of ammunition, 
 consisting of several thousand ball cartridges for musket 
 use, had been concealed in an upper room of a house be- 
 longing to a noted secessionist and suspected spy This 
 house was distant about three miles from our encamp- 
 ment, and the cartridges which were concealed therein 
 had been packed in small canvas bags ; these bags the 
 daring fellow proposed, Avith the assistance of myself to 
 c^ture or destroy. His plan was thus : We were to ob- 
 tain, by some means, a horse and wagon, to be ready at 
 a certain point, a short distance from the camp, at sunset, 
 and each proceed thither by different routes, in order the 
 better to avoid observation, and as soon as darkness fell 
 upon the scene, drive cautiously to within a few hundred 
 yards of the dwelling containing the contemplated plunder. 
 Then, hiding the wagon in a neighboring clump of trees, 
 some distance from the road, we were to proceed in such 
 a manner as circumstances would permit. In answer to 
 my inquiries as to the feasibility of procuring the wagon, 
 and the possibility of our ever being able to load it even 
 if we succeeded in coming in contact with the coveted 
 ammunition bags, I was greeted by a significant wink 
 and two or three slow successive tiods of the head, which, 
 if not productive of much intelligence, were quite indi- 
 cative of the Zouave's determination to carry out his 
 design. 
 
 The sun was declining when I started on my journey, 
 taking a somewhat circuitous path to the place of rendez- 
 vous, and walking in an irregular strolling manner, the 
 better to escape the observation of the comrades of my 
 friend, who were always on the alert for any adventure. 
 Behind a rising and well-wooded piece of ground, I soon 
 
 discovered my friend H , coolly seated in a one-horse 
 
 wagon, smoking a short pipe, aM at intervals, philoso- 
 phically lecturing a ragged son of Africa upon the pro- 
 
260 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 
 
 priety of his meeting us at this same spot on the follow- 
 ing night; in order to receive his horse and vehicle, and 
 the desired remuneration for the use of them. After 
 many doubtful scratches of his woolly head^ and singular 
 expressions of dissatisfaction — all of which were met by 
 great disgust and heavy threats on the part of the Zouave 
 of a marvellous punishment to be dealt out to the muti- 
 nous " darky" if he presumed to dog our path — he per- 
 mitted us to depart, and we left him, evidently in a thick 
 fog as to the fate of the property so inconsiderately in- 
 trusted to the safe keeping of a stranger. ^ 
 
 After a short drive, during which but few words were 
 spoken, we arrived at the spot where we had agreed to 
 conceal the horse and wagon. This operation effected, 
 we next proceeded to calculate chances. After a few 
 
 parting puff's, H ■ shook the ashes from his pipe, thrust 
 
 it into the pocket of his jacket, and drawing forth from 
 the wagon a coil of fine rope, which he hung round his 
 neck, gave the word to advance. It was now pitch dark ; 
 the distance from the place of our destination two hun- 
 dred yards, according to my comrade's estimate. A 
 solitary light, gleaming red amid the darkness ahead of 
 us, betrayed the spot where stood the building which 
 contained the object of our expedition. With this light 
 for our guide, we cautiously advanced in silence, un- 
 broken save by the occasional snapping of some dr;ed 
 twigs beneath our feet, and the muttered malediction be- 
 stowed upon it by my companion. 
 
 At length, we came into close proximity to the house. 
 Everything seemed to be buried in a deep stillness. Not 
 a sound could Vv^e hear. Not the warning growl of a dog 
 gave notice of our approach. No lig^t was visible, but 
 the one Avhich had hithej^to been our guide, and this still 
 shone from the half-closed casement of an apartment on 
 the ground-floor. The window-sill was about as high 
 from the ground as the ordinary height of a man, and 
 tmder this we crept and crouched to listen for any sounds 
 
A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 261 
 
 that miglajt escape from tlie interior. Directly over this^ 
 
 room, H^! told me, our intended prize was concealed. 
 
 He was thoroughly informed as to the relative positions 
 of the different passages necessary to pass through in 
 order to gain the desired treasure. The darkness of the 
 night was so dense that it was with dif&culty we could 
 discern the presence of each other, as we lay and lis- 
 tened. 
 
 Suddenly there was bustle within and the sound of 
 several voices. The warning produced by the low, hiss- 
 ing " hush" of my comrade prevented a half-uttered •ex- 
 clamation of surprise from fully escaping my lips. This 
 noise of men and voices was evidently caused by a large 
 party noy collected in the room in which the light was 
 burning. They must have entered the house from the 
 other side, and the clang of arms, as we distinctly heard 
 the men carelessly lay aside their weapons, assured us 
 they were no neutrals in the struggle going on between 
 our divided countrymen. 
 
 From fatigue, arising from the constrained posture in 
 which I lay, I made a sudden movement, which caused 
 me to fall against my companion, at the same time making 
 the gravel beneath my feet send forth the grating sound 
 peculiar to it when suddenly and violently disturbed. In 
 an instant the sounds within ceased (silenced by the sus- 
 picions caused by my most unfortunate stumbling), the 
 casement was dashed open, and half a dozen heads were 
 thrust out into the gloom. A movement now, if no louder 
 than that the lizard makes among the grass, or a single 
 sigh forced from our beating hearts and compressed 
 breath, would have been the forerunner of certain death. 
 Nothing could have saved us from the fate of the spy. 
 For several minutes we remained motionless, and heard 
 various conjectures among the men as to the cause of their 
 sudden alarm. Little did they imagine that at that moment, 
 within a few feet of their knives, which more than one 
 grasped in his hand unsheathed, lay, concealed by the 
 
262 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 
 
 ^darkness, two of the hated invaders. But we would have 
 been found no easy sacrifice. Each of us covered with 
 the muzzle of his revolver the breast of a foe, and the 
 first intimation given of our discovery would have cost 
 them at least two lives that night. 
 
 At length they withdrew their heads into the apart- 
 ment, half closed the casement as before, and we were 
 again alone. Whether they retired perfectly satisfied as 
 to the result of their blind inspection or not, we could 
 
 not tell. It was at this moment that H , grasping me 
 
 by -the arm, whispered me to follow him closely In 
 crouching attitudes we crept round the building ; each 
 step taken with peculiar care, lest any unlucky sound on 
 our part should again arouse suspicion, which, in all pro- 
 bability, was still unallayed. 
 
 After many cautious pauses and anxious straining of 
 eye and ear, we reached the other side of the house, where, 
 after proceeding a few steps, my leader halted and be- 
 gan exploring with his hand, until it lighted upon the 
 latch of a door in the wall. Placing his mouth close to 
 my ear, he again whispered me that it was of vital im- 
 portance we should cast off our shoes and carry them in 
 our hands, as by leaving them behind they might be 
 found by the enemy, and thus become the means of be- 
 traying us. Accordingly, in a few seconds, we stood in 
 our stockings, ready to pursue to the last limit the wind- 
 ings of the adventure. Noiselessly lifting the door-latcli, 
 
 H led the way into a passage, if possible darker than 
 
 the outside gloom from which we entered. 
 
 Groping our way we carefully advanced, and reached 
 the foot of a flight of stairs, Avhich, at a sign from my 
 companion, we ascended as swiftly as the imperative 
 necessity for a perfect silence permitted. We reached 
 the landing, whose extent was hidden in the same impene- 
 trable darkness, traversed it for the distance of several 
 feet, and at length arrived at a door, which H at- 
 tempted to open, but found locked. This he assured me 
 
A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 263 
 
 was the room whicli contained the cartridge-bags, and 
 not to gain entrance into it would render all the risk we 
 had hitherto run useless, as all further attempts we might 
 make would prove unavailing. 
 
 At this crisis of our proceedings we discovered, within 
 a few feet of us, a small window, which, on gently open- 
 ing, we found led out upon the roof of the piazza that ran 
 along all sides of the house. To step out upon this roof, 
 closing the window after us as gently as we had opened 
 it, was the work of a few seconds. Here we lay down, 
 at full length, for several minutes to listen ; but no sound 
 reached us, excepting an indistinct clamor proceeding 
 from the room beneath, in which was assembled the party 
 of rebels. Kelinquishing our recumbent postures, we 
 crept on our hands and knees imtil we reached the next 
 window, which belonged to the room we were so anxious 
 to explore. To our great satisfaction, we found it not 
 only unfastened, but opened wide, and, one after the other, 
 we passed through into the interior. Again we paused 
 in motionless silence, and again we listened intently, but 
 nothing beyond the sounds already mentioned . met our 
 ears, and we proceeded to search in darkness for the bags 
 of ammunition. We- came upon them simultaneously in 
 one corner of the room, piled into a heap. We com- 
 menced our work at once by passing them out two at a 
 time, through the window upon the piazz^a roof Silently 
 and swiftly was the task accomplished, until not a bag 
 remained. We searched every foot of the floor, travers- 
 ing its length and breadth until we were thoroughly 
 convinced ourselves were the sole objects, animate or 
 inanimate, it contained. 
 
 Passing out, our next movement was to carry round the 
 bags to the extreme end of the piazza. This involved the 
 necessity of traversing the full length of one side of the 
 building. With much labor and anxiety, as we had to pro- 
 ceed more warily than ever, at each step, we at last accom- 
 plished it. And now we held a consultation, whether it 
 
264 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 
 
 were better to risk the attempt of carrying off our prize 
 by degrees to the spot where we had concealed the wagon, 
 or destroy it at once by lowering bag after bag into a deep 
 
 well, H informed me was directly beneath us, as we 
 
 leaned over the balcony of the piazza. We concluded the 
 latter plan was the best, and accordingly, my companion . 
 uncoiling the rope he still carried around his neck and 
 fastening one end of it "to the balcony, rapidly descended, 
 after telling me to haul. up the other end again, attach to 
 it the bags (three or four at a time), and lower them to 
 him, when he would drop them singly into the well. 
 
 We had nearly finished this part of our task, when, 
 rendered reckless by the apparent security with which 
 it was continued — the splashing of each bag into the well 
 exciting no suspicion on the part of our dangerous neigh- 
 bors at the other extremity of the dwelling — H flung 
 
 down into its depths the last nine, three at once, instead 
 of dropping them singly, as he had hitherto done. At 
 this moment, the close proximity of approaching footsteps 
 alonsc the roof made me turn in the direction whence 
 the sound they caused proceeded, and instantly I was 
 engaged in a deadly struggle with an antagonist. 
 
 The scene now became one of the wildest confusion. 
 The rush of hostile feet along the roof bespoke the rapid 
 advatice of foes, whose numbers it would be madness to 
 contend with. Beneath, a desperate encounter was going 
 on between my comrade and one or more of the rebels, 
 as many a fierce oath testified. My left hand was firmly 
 fastened on the throat of the man with whom I was con- 
 tending, yet he clung to me with maddening tenacity. 
 Eeflection and action were the twinborn of an urgent 
 second. With my right hand I had managed to draw 
 and cock my revolver. , My life and liberty were in the 
 hands of a grasping foe" There was no compromise 
 here ; my life 5r his ! Pressing the muzzle of my pistol 
 to his head, I fired, and he fell with scattered brains at 
 my feet. The next instant I dropped from the balcony 
 
A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. 265 
 
 to the ground where 11 was battling in close quarters. 
 
 Here I stumbled over a fallen man. In the act of re- 
 gaining my feet, my hand came in contact with his breast 
 or side, and was instantly loathed in a warm gush of 
 streaming blood. 
 
 "Where are you, H ?" I shouted. 
 
 " Here." 
 
 The response came from within a yard or two of the 
 spot where I stood. I found my companion struggling 
 on the ground, in savage fury, with a fellow evidently 
 of much superior muscular power to liimself. Quick as 
 thought my strength was united to his, and with one 
 concentrated, determined, and desperate effort we flung 
 our herculean foe headlong down the well. 
 
 Without waiting to draw breath, we started and fled - 
 for life, baffling a host of enemies by the suddenness of 
 our plunge amidst the thick surrounding darkness. 
 
 '' This way," cried H , and keeping close together 
 
 we quickly reached our concealed wagon. To spring 
 inside was the work of a second, and away we went for 
 the camp. The Zouave drove, and his driving was like 
 the driving of Jehu ! 
 
 " I guess it would have been all up with me," he said 
 at length, "if you hadn't come in as you did. There 
 were two of them on me before I knew where I was, 
 when I found I'd lost my Colt ; so I gave one a dig with 
 the full length of my bowie, and then went in for a good 
 wrestle with the fellow we treated to a drink." 
 
 We reached camp unpursued. The wagon was re- 
 turned punctually next night, as promised, to the as- 
 tonished and grateful darkey, but whether or not he 
 received any further remuneration for the loan of his 
 property than the safe return of it I am unable to state. 
 
266 TUE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH, 
 
 THE TENIfESSEE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 .> 
 
 Kear the cross-roads, not. far from the Cumberland 
 Mountains, stood the village forge. The smith ^ras a 
 sturdy man of fifty. He was respected, wherever known, 
 for his stern integrit}''. He served God, and did not fear 
 man — and it might be safely added, nor devil either. 
 His courage was proverbial in the neighborhood ; and it 
 was a common remark when wishing to pay any person 
 a high compliment, to say, " He is as brave as Old Brad- 
 ley." One night, towards the close of September, as he 
 stood alone by the anvil plying his labors, his counte- 
 nance evinced a peculiar satisfaction as he brought his 
 hammer down with a vioforous stroke on the heated iron. 
 While blowing the bellows he would occasionally pause 
 and shake his head, as if communing with himself He 
 was evidently meditating upon something of a serious 
 nature. It was during one of these pauses that the door 
 was thrown open, and a pale, trembling figure staggered 
 into the shop, and, sinking at the smith's feet, faintly 
 ejaculated — 
 
 " In the name of Jesus, protect me 1" 
 
 As Bradley stooped to raise the prostrate form, three 
 men entered, the foremost one exclaiming — ■ 
 
 " We've treed him at last ! ' There he is ! Seize him !" 
 and as he spoke he pointed at the crouching figure. - 
 
 The others advanced to obey the order, but Bradley 
 suddenly arose, seized his sledge-hammer, and brandish- 
 ing it about his head as if it were a sword, exclaimed — 
 
 " Back ! Touch him not ; or, by the grace of God, I'll 
 brain ye !" 
 
 They hesitated, and stepped backward, not wishing to 
 encounter the sturdy smith, for his countenance plainly 
 told them that he meant what he said. 
 
 " Do you give shelter to an abolitionist ?" fiercely 
 shouted the leader. 
 
THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 261 
 
 " I give shelter to a weak, defenceless man," replied 
 the smith. 
 
 " He is an enemy !" vociferated the leader. 
 
 " Of the devil !" ejaculated Bradley. 
 • "He is a spy! an abolition hound!" exclaimed the 
 leader, with increased vehemence ; " and we must have 
 him. So I tell you, Bradley, you had better not inter- 
 fere. You know that you are already suspected, and if 
 you insist upon sheltering him it will confirm it." 
 
 " Sus-pect-ed! Suspected of what?" exclaimed the 
 smith, in a firm tone, riveting his gaze upon the speaker. 
 
 " Why, of adhering to the Xorth," was the reply. 
 I "Adhering to the North!" ejaculated Bradley, as he 
 cast his defiant glances at the speaker. " I adhere to no 
 Korth," he continued ; " I adhere to my country — my 
 whole country — and will, so help me God ! as long as I 
 have breath !" he added, as he brought the sledge-hammer 
 to the ground with great force. 
 
 I " You had better let us have him, Bradley, without 
 I further trouble. You are only risking your own neck 
 'by your interference." 
 
 , " Not as long as I have life to defend him," was the 
 answer. Then pointing toward the door, he continued, 
 " Leave my shop !" and as he spoke he again raised .the 
 sledge-hammer. 
 
 They hesitated a moment, but the firm demeanor of 
 the smith awed them into compliance with the order. 
 
 " You'll regret this in the morning, Bradley," said the 
 |leader, as he retreated. 
 
 ' " Go !" was the reply of the smith, as he pointed toward 
 Ithe door. 
 
 , Bradley followed them menacingly to the entrance of 
 .the shop, and watched them until they disappeared from 
 ^ight down the road. When he turned to go back in 
 the shop he was met by the fugitive, who, grasping his 
 hand, exclaimed — 
 
268 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 " Oil ! how shall I ever be able to thank yon, Mr. 
 Bradley ?" 
 
 " This is no time for thanks, Mr. Peters, unless it is to 
 the Lord ; you must fly the country, and that at once." 
 
 " But my wife and children ?" 
 
 " Mattie and I will attend to them. But you must go 
 to-night." 
 
 "To-night?" • 
 
 " Yes. In the morning, if not sooner, they will return 
 with a large force and carry you off, and probably hang 
 you on the first tree. You must leave to-night." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 "Mattie will conduct you to the rendezvous of our 
 friends. There is a party made up who intend to cross 
 the mountains and join the Union forces in Kentucky. 
 They were to start to-night. They have provisions for 
 the journey, and will gladly share with you." 
 
 At this moment a young girl entered the shop, and 
 hurriedly said — 
 
 " Father, what is the trouble to-night ?" Her eye rest- 
 ing upon the fugitive, she approached him^ and in a 
 sympathizing tone continued, " Ah, Mr. Peters, has your 
 turn come so soon ?" 
 
 This Avas Mattie. She was a fine rosy girl, just passed 
 her -eighteenth birthday, and the sole daughter of Brad- 
 ley's house and heart. She was his all — his wife had been 
 dead five years. He turned toward her, and in a mild 
 but firm tone said — 
 
 " Mattie, you must conduct Mr. Peters to the rendez- 
 vous immediately ; then return, and we will call *at the 
 parsonage to cheer his family. Quick ! No time is to be 
 lost. The bloodhounds are npon the track. They have 
 scented their prey, and will not rest until they have se- 
 cured him. They may return much sooner than we ex- 
 pect. So haste, daughter, and God bless ye !" 
 
 This was not the first time that Mattie had been called 
 upon to perform such an of&ce. She had safefy conducted 
 
THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 269 
 
 several Union men, who had been hunted from their 
 homes, and sought shelter with her father, to the place 
 designated, from whence they made their escape across 
 the mountains into Kentucky. Turning to the fugitive, 
 she said — 
 
 "Come, Mr. Peters, do not stand upon ceremony, but 
 follow me." 
 
 She left the shop, and proceeded but a short distance 
 up the road, and then turned off' in a by-path through a 
 strip of woods, closely followed by the fugitive. A brisk 
 walk of half an hour brought them to a small house that 
 stood alone in a secluded spot. Here Mattie was received 
 with a warm welcome by several men, some of whom 
 were engaged in running bullets, while others were clean- 
 ing their rifles and fowling-pieces. The lady of the house, 
 a hale woman of forty, was busy stuffing the wallets of 
 the men with biscuits. She greeted Mattie very kindly. 
 The fugitive, who was known to two or three of the party, 
 was received in a bluff*, frank spirit of kindness by all, 
 saying that they would make him chaplain of the Ten- 
 nessee Union regiment, when they got to Kentucky. 
 
 When Mattie was about to return home, two of the 
 party prepared to accompany her ; but she protested, 
 warning them of the danger, as the enemy were doubtless 
 abroad in search of the minister. But, notwithstanding, 
 they insisted, and accompanied her, until she reached the 
 road, a 'short distance above her father's shop. Mattie 
 hurried on, but was somewhat surprised on reaching the 
 shop to find it vacant. She hastened into the house, but 
 her father was not ther^. As she returned to go into the 
 shop, she thought she could hear the noise of horses' hoofe 
 clattering down the road. She listened, but the sound 
 soon died away. Going into the shop she blew the fire 
 into a blaze ; then beheld that the things were in great 
 confusion, and that spots of blood were upon the ground., 
 She was now convinced that her father had been seized 
 
2t0 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 and carried off; but not without a desperate struggle on 
 his part. 
 
 As Mattie stood gazing at tlie pools of blood, a wagon 
 containing two persons drove up, one of whom, an athletic 
 young man of five-and-twenty years, got out and entered 
 tlie shop. 
 
 " Good-evening, Mattie 1 Where is your father ?" he 
 said. Then observing the strange demeanor of the girl, 
 he continued, " Why, Mattie, what ails you ? What has 
 happened ?" 
 
 The young girl's heart was too full for her tongue to 
 giv5 utterance, and throwing herself upon the shoulder 
 of the young man, she sobbingly exclaimed — 
 
 " They have carried him off! Don't you see the blood ?" 
 
 " Have they dared to lay hands upon your father ? The 
 infernal wretches !" 
 
 Mattie recovered herself sufficiently to narrate the 
 events of the evening. When she had finished, he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Oh, that I should have lived to see the day that old 
 Tennessee was to be thus disgraced ! Here, Joe !" 
 
 At this, the other person in the wagon alighted and 
 entered the shop. He was a stalwart negro. 
 
 " Joe," continued the young man, '' you would like your 
 freedom ?" 
 
 '' Well, Massa John, I wouldn't like much to leave you, 
 but den I'se like to be a free man." 
 
 " Joe, the white race have maintained their liberty by 
 their valor. • Are you willing to fight for yours ? Ay ! 
 figlit to the deatli ?" 
 
 " I'se fight for yous any time, Massa John." 
 
 " I believe you, Joe, But I have desperate work on 
 hand to-night, and I do not want you to engage in it 
 ■without a prospect of reward. If I succeed, I will make 
 you a free man. It is a matter of life and death — will 
 you go ?" 
 
 "I will, Massa." 
 
THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 2U 
 
 "Then kneel down, and swear before tlie everliving 
 God, that, if you falter or shrink the danger, you may 
 hereafter be consigned to everlasting fire !" 
 
 "I swear, Massa," said the negro, kneeling. "An' I 
 hope that Gor Almighty may strike me dead if I don't 
 go wid you through fire and water, and ebery ting !" * 
 
 "I am satisfied, Joe," said his master; then turning to 
 the young girl, who had been a mute spectator of this 
 singular scene, he continued: "Now, Mattie, you get in 
 the wagon and I'll drive down to the parsonage, and you 
 remain there with Mrs. Peters and the children until I 
 bring you some intelligence of your father." 
 
 While the sturdy old blacksmith was awaiting the 
 return of his daughter, the party that he had repulsed 
 returned with increased numbers and demanded the min- 
 ister. A fierce quarrel ensued, which resulted in their 
 seizing the smith and carrying him off. They conveyed 
 him to a tavern half a mile distant from the shop, and 
 there he was arraigned before what was termed a vigi- 
 lance committee. The committee met in a long room on 
 the ground-floor, dimly lighted by a lamp which stood 
 upon a small table in front of the chairman. In about 
 half an hour after Bradley's arrival he was placed before 
 the chairman for examination. The old man's arms w^ere 
 pinioned, but nevertheless he cast a defiant look upon 
 those around him. 
 
 "Bradley, this is a grave charge against you. What 
 have you to say?" said the xjhairman. 
 
 "What authority have you to ask?" demanded the 
 smith, fiercely eying his interrogator. 
 
 " The authority of the people of Tennessee," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "I deny it." 
 
 " Your denials amount to nothing. You are accused 
 of harboring an abolitionist, and the penalty of that act, 
 you know, is death. What have you to say to the. 
 charge ?" 
 
212 THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 
 
 " I say that it is a lie, and that Tie who litters such 
 charges against me is a scoundrel." 
 
 " Simpson," said the chairman to the leader of the band 
 that had captured Bradley, and who now appeared with 
 a large bandage about his head, to bind up a wound which 
 Vas the result of a blow from the fist of Bradley. " Simp- 
 son," continued the chairman, " what have you to say ?" 
 
 The leader then stated that he had tracked the preacher 
 to the blacksmith shop, and that Bradley had resisted his 
 arrest, and that upon their return he could not be found, 
 and that the prisoner refused to give any information 
 concerning him. 
 
 " Do you hear that, Mr. Bradley ?" said the chairman. 
 
 " I do. What of it ?" was the reply. 
 
 ^as it true?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Where is the preacher ?" 
 
 " That is none of your business." 
 
 " Mr. Bradley, this tribunal is not to be insulted with 
 impunity. I again demand to know where Mr. Peters is. 
 Will you tell ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Mr. Bradley, it is well known that you are not only 
 a member but an exhorter in Mr. Peters's church, and 
 therefore some little excuse is to be made for your zeal 
 in defepding him. He is from the North, and has long 
 been suspected, and is now accused of being an abolition- 
 ist and a dangerous man. 'You do not deny sheltering 
 him, and refusing to give him np. If you persist in this 
 you must take the consequences. I ask you for the last 
 time if you will inform us of his whereabouts ?" 
 
 "And again I answer no !" 
 
 " Mr. Bradley, there is also -another serious charge 
 against you, and your conduct in this instance confirms it. 
 You are accused of giving comfort to the enemies of your 
 country.- What have you to say to that ?" 
 
 " I say it is false, and that he who makes it is a villain.* 
 
THE TENNESSEE BLACKSMITH. 273 
 
 "I accuse him with being a traitor, aiding the cause 
 of the Union," said Simpson. 
 
 "If my adherence to the Union merits for me the 
 name of traitor, then I am proud of it. 1 have been for 
 the Union — I am still for the Union — and will be for the 
 Union as long as life lasts." 
 
 At these words the chairman clutched a pistol that lay 
 upon the table before him, and the bright blade of Simp- 
 son's bowie-knife glittered near Bradley's breast; but 
 before he could make the fatal plunge a swift-winged 
 messenger of death laid him dead at the feet of his in- 
 tended victim ; while at the same instant another plunged 
 into the heart of the chairman, and he fell forward over 
 the table, extinguishing the lights and leaving all in 
 darkness. Confusion reigned.' The inmates of the room 
 were panic-stricken. In the midst of the consternation a 
 firm hand rested upon Bradley's shoulder ; his bonds were 
 severed, and he hurried out of the open window. He 
 was again a free man, but was hastened forward into the 
 woods at the back of the tavern, and through them to a 
 road a quarter of a mile distant, then into a wagon and 
 driven rapidly off. In half an hour the smith made one 
 of the party at the rendezvous that was to start at mid- 
 night across the mountains. 
 
 " John," said the smith, as he grasped the hand of his 
 rescuer, while his eyes glistened and a tear coursed down 
 his furrowed cheek, " I should like to see Mattie before 
 I go." ■ • 
 
 " You shall," was the reply. 
 
 In another hour the blacksmith clasped his daughter 
 •to his bosom. 
 
 It was an affecting scene — there, in that lone hou^e in 
 the wilderness, surrounded by men who had been driven 
 from their homes for their attachment to the principles 
 for which their patriot fathers fought and bled — the sturdy 
 old smith, a type of the heroes of other days, pressing his 
 daughter to his breast, while the tears coursed down his 
 18 
 
2t4 ' A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 
 
 furrowed cheek. He felt that perhaps it was to be his 
 last embrace ; for his resolute heart had resolved to sac- 
 rifice his all upon the altar of his country, and he could 
 no longer watch over the safety of his only child. W^s 
 she to be left to the mercy of the parricidal wretches 
 who were attempting to destroy the country that had 
 given 'them birth, nursed their infancy, and opened a 
 wide field foj them to display the abilities with which 
 nature had endowed them ? 
 
 " Mr. Bradley," said his rescuer, after a short pause, " as 
 you leave the State it will be necessary, in these trou- 
 blous times, for Mattie to have a protectbr, and I have 
 thought that our marriage had better take place to- 
 night." 
 
 " "Well, John," he said, a^ he relinquished his embrace 
 and gazed with a fond look at her who was so dear to 
 him, " I shall not object, if Mattie is willing." 
 
 " Oh ! we arranged that as we came along," replied the 
 young man. 
 
 Mattie blushed, but said nothing. 
 
 In a short time the hunted-down minister was called 
 upon to perform a marriage service in that lone house. 
 It was an impressive scene. Yet no diamonds glittered 
 upon the neck of the bride ; no pearls looped up her 
 tresses ; but a pure love glowed within her heart as she 
 gave utterance to a vow which was registered in heaven. 
 
 Bradley, soon after the ceremony, bade his daughter 
 and her husband an affectionate farewell, and set out with 
 his friends to join others who had been driven from their 
 homes, and were now rallying under the old flag to fight 
 for the Union, and, as they said, " Kedeeni old Tennes- 
 see!" 
 
 A OONPLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 
 
 The latent loyalty of Northwestern Arkansas having 
 begun to manifest itself in the latter part of January, 1863. 
 
A CONrLICT WITH DESPERADOES. ' 216 
 
 but still requiring the support of the military arm, Cap- 
 tain Galloway, with a sufficient force, was present at 
 Huntsville on the 31st, for which day a public meeting 
 had been called. He left Fayetteville also for another 
 purpose. It had been ascertained where the notorious^ 
 Peter Mankins, with a band of desperadoes, were secreting 
 themselves in the Southeastern corner of Crawford 
 County, and it was determined jipon, " to break up the 
 nest." This was a part of Captain Galloway's duty, in 
 the discharge of which he was to receive co-operation 
 from Captain Eobert E. Travis, of the same regiment, 
 who had magnanimously offered to go as a spy into the 
 dangerous cane. 
 
 Born in or near Indianapolis, Ind., and passing his entire 
 life in the West, Captain Travis, at the breaking out of 
 the rebellion, was « dealer in stock in Northern Missouri. 
 For a time, employed as a spy for the original army of 
 the Southwest, he afterwards enlisted as a private in a 
 company of the first Arkansas cavalry. Subsequently 
 receiving authority to raise a company, he did so, and at 
 the time of which we speak was commanding a squadron.- 
 We well remember the appearance of the captain in our 
 office the afternoon of his departure. Dropping in but 
 for a moment, he pleasantly drew oar attention to his 
 habit, now completely that of a backwoodsman. Every 
 garment of the army blue had disappeared, and we could 
 not help thinking of Joseph's'coat of many colors. No 
 spy was ever more appro^iately clothed. Suggesting 
 that he be very cautious, for he was about to deal with 
 the most desperate men on the border, and wishing him 
 a successful enterprise and a safe return, he left the 
 room. 
 
 We now quote from the report of Captain Galloway to 
 Colonel Harrison, commanding the post at Fayetteville. 
 
 " The first night after leaving I encamped on the 
 Huntsville road, about two miles from that place. The 
 next day I reached Huntsville at 11 o'clock A. M. There 
 
276 • A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 
 
 being no rebels in force in tbe vicinity of tlie town, I 
 remained there until the morning of the 1st inst., at which 
 time, in obedience to your order, received at Huntsville, I 
 started for Williams' farm. A little while after dark, of 
 ,the same day, I reached Allison Hill's farm, about eigh- 
 teen miles distant from Ozark, and twenty-five miles 
 from Williams' farm, to which I intended to go. There 
 it was rumored that th^re were one hundred rebels in 
 Ozark, and three steamers above the place. I proceeded 
 at once to Ozark, arriving just at break of day. I 
 there found a rebel captain^ whom, with a lieutenant I 
 had captured the day before, I paroled. I also paroled 
 four rebel privates. I remained at Ozark until 1 o'clock 
 P. M., waiting for the steamers, but they did not come 
 down, and I started for Williams' farm. When I had pro- 
 ceeded seven miles, my advance drove three rebel pickets, 
 whom I supposed to be patrols. The advance soon came 
 in contact with the main force of the enemy, who charged, 
 and it fell back to the main column of my forces, 
 now forming in an advantageous position. The enemy 
 came up to within one hundred and fifty yards of my 
 line and opened, when the contest fairly commenced. 
 After thirty minutes' severe fighting I repulsed him with 
 loss. At this time I would have charged had I not 
 feared an ambuscade. The enemy retreated with great 
 precipitancy, breaking into small squads as they retreated, 
 which scattered to the right and left of the road. From 
 the most reliable information, I found that the rebels 
 numbered one hundred and eighty men, and were com- 
 manded by Colonel Dorsey. I could not accurately 
 ascertain their losses, as they carried off their dead and 
 wounded. Ours was one slightly wounded. 
 
 " The rebels were informed of our presence, in the vicin- 
 ity, and of oifr advance, and had been waiting for us one or 
 two hours. From here I started to Williams' farm, reach- 
 ing it about dusk. At eight o'clock a spy, who had been 
 co-operating with Captain Travis, came into camp, and at 
 
A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 211 
 
 ■ nine tlie captain himself arrived. Thej had learned that 
 Mankins' band, numbering thirty men, was immediately 
 beyond the Arkansas Eiver, and his (Captian Travis') plan 
 was to proceed at once to the river with his whole force, 
 leaving one-half on this side to guard the horses, and 
 .^^ sending the other half over the river to capture the 
 •'■ guerrillas. This plan I considered defective, since I sup- 
 posed that the rebels with whom we had the fight would 
 probably return ' reinforced to their encampment, two 
 miles from us, and not more than two from the ferry 
 where we would have to cross the river. Moreover, my 
 men were very tired, as also the horses, having had no 
 rest since we had left Hunts vi lie. My design was to attack 
 the rebel camp in the morning, if they were not too 
 strongly posted, but finding by one o'clock at night that 
 the rebels had not returned to their encampment, and 
 still considering it imprudent to move part of my forces 
 across the river, I determined to start for Fayetteville in 
 the morning. 
 
 " Captain Travis insisted on taking the men into the 
 cane-brake for the purpose of capturing five or six of the 
 enemy, who, he said, were to meet there to organize a band. 
 He wanted no more than ten. I considered his proposed 
 expedition nothing more than a small scout, and believ- 
 ing that there was no rebel force in the vicinity, granted 
 his request. He was to rejoin me five or six miles from 
 Williams' farm, and about the same distance from where 
 he was going. He insisted, on starting out, that if he 
 did not meet me there, -I should go on, and he would 
 overtake me. A little before daybreak I started for 
 Fayetteville, and having marched about twenty miles, 
 halted and fed. Some of the party now came up and 
 gave information that Captain Travis and four of his men 
 were killed or mortally wounded. 
 
 *' The facts, as I gathered them from the men who es- 
 caped, were these : Captain Travis leaving us in camp, 
 proceeded at once to the cane-brake, two and a half miles 
 
278 A CONFLICT WITH DESPERADOES. 
 
 distant. Finding some indications of an enemy in the 
 vicinity, lie marched until break of day, when he dis- 
 mounted his men, hitched his horses, and began to search 
 for them. He came to their camp, which was about one 
 hundred rods from where he alighted, and found thirty 
 horses tied to the bushes. Leaving one man to guard 
 them, he proceeded with seven others to attack the rebels 
 in their fortifications, whom he knew, from their horses, 
 to number about thirty. When a hundred yards from 
 the fort, a sentinel descried them, and gave the alarm. 
 The rebels sprang to their rifles, and commenced firing 
 on our men, who, opening fire in return, continued to 
 advance until within thirty yards of the fort. At this 
 time, when three or four of our men had fallen, the captain 
 ordered a retreat, and while himself in the act of turning, 
 received a mortal wound. His remaining men moved 
 him about one hundred rods distant, where, after staying 
 with him ten or fifteen minutes, they left him apparently 
 dying. They ov.ertook me at noon the next day. When 
 informed of this disaster, I would have 'returned at once, 
 and recovered the wounded if still living, and interred 
 the dead, but owing to the fatigued state of my men and 
 horses, I deemed it best to move on to Fayetteville. 
 Intrusting the disposal of the dead and wounded to a 
 citizen, and pledging him to attend to them, I moved 
 on." 
 
 Poor Travis ! he fell a victim to his own rash bravery, 
 yet all honoT to the man who could divest himself of his 
 command, and so cheerfully volunteer to ferret out and 
 rid that section of country of its most dangerous en- 
 emies. If he could not succeed, he could fight, and he 
 paid the penalty of his daring with his life. A few days 
 later, an avenging expedition softened the remembrance 
 of this disaster, by ^converting the block-house in the 
 canebreak into a mass of ruins, and driving its hated 
 defenders ignominiously across the Arkansas Eiver. 
 
STEALING A MARCH. ' 279 
 
 STEALma A MAEOH. 
 
 StretcTied at full length before the most magnificent of 
 all the fires, with a pleasant sense of warmth diffusing it- 
 self from the soles of the feet along the whole person, a 
 party of us lay with a lazy enjoyment of the heat, and a 
 ieelmg of satisfaction with our supper. Each was draw- 
 ing upon his pipe, and exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke, 
 except the chief proprietor of the establishment, the 
 lieutenant-colonel of the regiment. I do not think that 
 there can be found a pleasanter fellow for a companion 
 during the Idng evening lounge around a camp-fire than 
 
 B . Though never out of the United States, he has 
 
 been, Hibernianly speaking, a great deal *in them, and 
 has anecdotes associated with almost every place which 
 becomes prominent in connection with the present war. 
 But what I enjoy the most is to set him talking about 
 some of his adventures since he has been with us, and 
 extract all those details which are not obtainable in "a 
 second-hand report. As he seems to enjoy the revival 
 in his memory of these former scenes as much as we do, 
 to whom they are fresh, it is no difficult task to start him 
 on a narration. 
 
 The talk began by some remark lipon the character of 
 the country around us, which our regiment had scouted 
 in the spring preceding. There was a little difference of 
 opinion about the bend in the river, and whether our 
 
 picket line there might not be improved*. Captain Gr 
 
 thought that it might, and appealed to the colonel. " I 
 think not," was the reply. '' I had to study the shore 
 there pretty closely last spring to find a place where I 
 could cross, and the pickets now cover, as far as possible, 
 every practicable ferry. Unless we had more men, I 
 could not suggest any improvement." 
 
 "Why," said L , "what were you looking for a 
 
 crossing here for ? W never meant to take Rich- 
 
280 STEALING A MARCH. 
 
 mond on his own hook, just as lie went at Jackson's army 
 afterward at Harrisonburg, did he?" 
 
 "No; this was a little affair of my own, when we 
 bagged a party of rebel couriers and brought in some 
 horses — among others that nice pair of Bailey Peyton 
 mares that I had last summer." 
 
 "I remember hearing something about that when I 
 rejoined near Seddon's; but we were all off on de- 
 tached service just then, and I never heard the particu- 
 lars of the affair, nor knew where it " took place. How 
 did you manage to get to them without their taking 
 wing ?" 
 
 "It is rather a long story for a man to tell about him- 
 self," responded B , 
 
 " No matte*," I put in ; " we are all smokers, and will 
 be very grateful if you will take our share of the talk 
 out of our mouths. So begin at the beginning, and we 
 will take the story, as an artist might now take you, at 
 full length." 
 
 The colonel stretched himself into a comfortable posi- 
 tion and began : — 
 
 " You all know how the contrabands began to flock in 
 to us as soon as we came down from Falmouth to Port 
 Conway. It was a sort of second Exodus, slightly dif- 
 fering from the first, especially as to color and smell. 
 They managed to get to us, not only from down the neck, 
 but also from across the river — one party bringing in 
 valuable horses, and the others tolerably good informa- 
 tion. So we welcomed them all, and sent them on toward 
 the North Pole rejoicing. One of the fellows from the 
 
 other side, Humphrey, who was with Colonel W for 
 
 some time afterward, seemed to have come off rather 
 against his will. I got into a talk with him, and found 
 out that his master lived about ten or twelve miles back 
 from the river. He might have been staying there to 
 this time, perhaps, if the neighbors had not taken the 
 alarm at losing so many of their servants. They had ar- 
 
STEALING A MARCH. 281 
 
 ranged with tlie rebel general, therefore, to assemble 
 themselves and bring all their slaves to a certain place, 
 where a small cavalry post had been established. The 
 general was to send a force to guard them until they got 
 within his lines, when they were to be taken to work on 
 the Eichmond fortifications, or else sold South. This 
 'kind of plan always gets wind in some way, and many 
 of the negroes took the alarm. Among others, Humphrey 
 very sensibly concluded that, if he had to leave home,*he 
 would prefer himself to decide the direction of his jour- 
 ney ; and he consequently stole off by night, escaping 
 across the river to us. Now his casual allusion to this 
 post stuck fast in my mind, and I managed to make him 
 describe it to me. From what he said I judged that it 
 did not connect with any others in the neighborhood, but 
 was there merely for purposes of observation. So it was 
 jiist possible that I might steal upon them, catch most of 
 them, and be back before there could be time for a force 
 to come down upon us in turn. 
 
 " I began to hunger after the capture, and asked Hum- 
 phrey whether he could guide a party through the 
 country at night to the house where they stayed. The 
 darkey's face lit up with unexpected intelligence and 
 animation at the question ; and when he declared not only 
 his ability but his willingness to do so, I felt that I could 
 rely en him. I went straight up to the house and spoke 
 to the colonel. It was when head-quarters were at Pow- 
 hatan Hill. I believe that W was sorry that he was 
 
 not a captain instead of regimental commander. If he had 
 been he woulcj certainly have tried to take the affair out 
 of my hands. As it was, he gave me plenty of counsel 
 and warning, but consented to my taking a party of 
 volunteers and crossing the river that night. It rained 
 hard enough at nightfall to quell the courage of a good 
 many of those who were willing enough in the afternoon ; 
 and I thought it darker than it had ever seemed before 
 as our little party stole quietly out of camp before tattoo^ 
 
282 STEALING A MARCH. 
 
 and felt our way down to the river. In a leaky boat, 
 two at a time, we managed to cross, tlie noise of the skiff' 
 in the water sounding to our ears all the time as if it 
 must be audible at least five miles ; and just as taps blew, 
 dismissing the rest of the regiment to bed, we started to 
 leave it, perhaps forever. We had, of course, left spurs 
 and sabres behind on such an expedition ; but all of my 
 men had their revolvers and carbines. 
 
 " We were seventeen whites, and had three negroes as 
 guides. Humphrey led the advance, I following im- 
 mediately, and only keeping him in sight from his wear- 
 ing a light-colored linsey coat. How it happened that 
 some of the men did not get lost in the darkness I can- 
 not understand ; for I did not hear a whisper sometimes 
 for miles together, an.d only rarely the splash of a foot- 
 fall ki a puddle, indicating that the boys were keeping 
 closely in my rear. I believe that, with their present 
 recklessness, some of them would have straggled ; but 
 danger was then new to them, and they were nervously 
 alive to every risk. As we were plodding along through 
 heavy fields, over plantation-roads, and across by-paths, 
 feeling very anxiously and to a slight degree scared — at 
 least I did — the party whom we were going to^ surprise 
 was much more agreeably occupied. They were all 
 young men of the neighborhood, who had gone in a body 
 from a local cavalry company into the Confederate ser- 
 vice. So they were rather petted and made much of by 
 the families around, especially by the young ladies. 
 
 "The sergeant had been particularly attracted by a 
 daughter of Dr. Golding, the gentleman §t whose place 
 the party was posted ; but whether that was the cause or 
 the effect of his selecting that locality I am unable to tell. 
 The afternoon of our march, he had told the young lady 
 that he was going to ride down and take a look at the 
 Y'ankees, laughingly making her commandant of the post 
 during his absence. She assumed at least all the author- 
 ity appropriate to the dignity, commanding him to report 
 
STEALING A MARCH. 283 
 
 at a certain hour, or suffer the pain and penalties due to 
 disobedience. The delinquent sergeant was half an hour 
 behind his time. After enduring a severe reprimand he 
 was placed in arrest and close confinement within the 
 parlor, and sentenced to suffer whist, singing, and supper 
 until the proper authority should permit his release. 
 His imprisonment was lightened, however, bj the society 
 of the lady herself, her friends, and a select detail from 
 his squad. 
 
 " In spite of the storm without, all*was bright and gay 
 within ; and a good many small jokes were made about 
 the Yankees, ten miles off across the river. At last, as 
 the hands of the clock drew round toward twelve, the 
 merry party broke up, the last words of Miss Golding 
 being a jocular warning to take care or the Yankees 
 would catch them. It was answered by a defiant laugh, 
 and the sergeant retired with his men to their quarters 
 in an adjoining of&ce. There was a formal watch kept ; 
 but, at such a distance from the enemy, the young -men 
 had grown very careless. A man was placed on a hill a 
 little distance off, another outside the house itself, and 
 their horses were picketed somewhere within their ceach. 
 On this occasion the pleasure of the evening probably 
 made the reliefs oblivious of their duty, and that at the 
 very critical moment. Certain it is that the guard out- 
 side the door came in and lay down without any one 
 taking his place, and the outpost, after staying beyond 
 his hour, came in to see why he was not relieved. 
 
 "Now, having described the situation of the enemy, 1 
 shall go back to the history of my own party. - We had 
 left camp at about eight o'clock, and hour after hour 
 marched slowly on under the guidance of the negroes, 
 unable of ourselves to tell the direction in which we were 
 travelling. We became more and more cautious and 
 watchful as we advanced, though we had not heard a 
 sound of life around us. Suddenly the guide stopped, 
 taking a crouching attitude. We all found ourselves in- 
 
284 STEALING A MARCH. 
 
 voluntarily doing the same, tliough I suppose each was half 
 unconscious that his neighbor was doing so. Presently 
 I could hear footsteps advancing along the path. As 
 we did not wish to meet any one, we of course stole aside 
 as noiselessly as possible, and yielded the right of way. 
 
 " There were about half a dozen persons in the party, but 
 I could not tell whether they were negroes or a patrol. 
 Whoever they were we escaped their notice^ and at once 
 resumed our course. At last we emerged from a wooded 
 hollow, and saw the Vague outline of a building in a little 
 denser black than the sky behind it. 
 
 " ' All in dar,' whispered Humphrey, pointing to a par- 
 ticular part of the house. 
 
 " ' Is ^hefe any fence or hedge between here and there V 
 I iruq^uired, ' or is the track clear ?' 
 
 " ' Eight up dar, straight up, massa,' he responded, so 
 excited that I believe he did not comprehend the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " ' Does the door open into a room or into a passage ?' 
 was my next question. 
 
 " ' Right in dar, massa ; you jump right on 'em,' was 
 his aaswer, and he kept still pointing to the place. 
 
 '^ So I posted my men, and then my orderly and I headed 
 two parties in a rush for the opposite sides of the build- 
 ing. Just as I got to the top of my speed I felt a violent 
 blow upon my chest which almost staggered me. I put 
 out my hand and touched a picket fence. "With one leap 
 I was over it, and at the door. My men were delayed 
 by trying to climb the fence slowly. Just as I touched 
 the door it was opened from within, and I came face to 
 face with a gray back. • Before I could even say Surren- 
 der ! he had. sprung back, run along the passage and 
 dashed through a side door. For a moment I was be- 
 wildered by finding the passage where I expected the 
 room, but recovering myself I followed in time to see 
 him making for a pile of arms. 
 
 Surreiider !' shouted I ; and, without my really mean- 
 
 (( i 
 
STEALING A MARCH. 285 
 
 ing it, mj pistol went off. He spun round, saying, ' You 
 have shot me, sir ;' but I did not have time to attend to 
 him, for all around the room were his comrades lying 
 down. I sprang at the nearest, had my knee on him, my 
 breast on another, and my pistol at the head of a third 
 at the same instant. Just then my men got round to the 
 window, and seeing me apparently struggling with num- 
 bers, let fly a couple of shots. Unfortunately both were 
 fatal, one man being killed, and another mortally wounded. 
 My man only had a bullet through his arm. 
 
 ■ " Of course the rebels immediately surrendered, and we 
 found that the party consisted of seven. The wounded 
 man was a nephew of Dr. Golding, aiid had been one of 
 the party in the parlor. I immediately sent a message 
 to Dr. Golding requesting him to come and attend upon 
 his wounded nephew. At the same moment a series of 
 most piercing shrieks rang out from the main building, 
 each woman doing screaming enough for six. I sent a 
 second envoy to the Doctor, informing him that if he did 
 not come at once I should have to bring him, together 
 i with a polite request for the cessation of that very loud 
 and disagreeable noise. 
 
 " Both messages were effectual. We had the arm of 
 
 the slightly wounded prisoner dressed at once ; and 
 
 while some of my men found and saddled the horses of 
 
 the party, the rest of us assisted in ministering to young 
 
 Broadus, who, as a short inspection proved, was dying. 
 
 It was the first time that we had looked upon the results 
 
 I of our work, and it made us look very melancholy to 
 
 I contemplate the agony of that fine young fellow. . Some 
 
 i of my men almost cried. But we* did not have time to 
 
 I yield to any sentiments of pity or sorrow. We were ten 
 
 ' miles from the river, with an active enemy not so very 
 
 far off. So, guarding our five prisoners, and bringing 
 
 off their five horses, we started on our return along the 
 
 self-same road. We moved, though, much faster on 
 
 the way back, the cause of which you may perhaps com- 
 
286 A DARKEY IN THE AIR. 
 
 preliend ; and as we mounted the hill commanding the 
 river, we heard the cheerful notes of our bugles sounding 
 out reveille. There in the clear dawn we could catch, 
 sight of some of our men waiting anxiously by the boat. 
 It soon came across to us, and, swimming the horses, we 
 
 ^. made our way into camp, feeling very proud of our ex- 
 
 ■ pedition and its fruits." 
 
 A DAEKEY IN THE AIE. 
 
 Abraham, a full-blooded negro, and the only person 
 who escaped with his life at the time the mine under 
 Fort Hill at Yicksburg exploded, was at work with a 
 number of the rebel soldiery "sinking a shaft " for the* 
 purpose of discovering any gallery that might have been 
 " run by our miners " beneath their works. 
 
 The negro was blown a distance of nearly three hun- 
 dred yards, and was, when picked up7 in a most disturbed 
 state of mind. 
 
 "De Lord, massa" — quoth he — "tink neber should 
 light — yah, yah ! Went up 'bout free mile. Ax a white 
 man when I start whar wese going, and de next I know'd 
 he was just nowhere but all over." 
 
 An artist present took a sketch of Abraham while the 
 officers gathered around, and the numerous queries put 
 to him were rather wittily responded to. 
 
 Finishing the sketch, the contraband scrutinized it for 
 a moment, then broke into a " Yah, yah ! de Lord, dis 
 chile shjore — Massa, give me a quarter ?" 
 
 One of General MTherson's staff. Colonel Coolbaugh, 
 bestowed a silver half upon the delighted African, who 
 made tracks for the negro quarters near in a style show- 
 ing that he was but little the worse for his aerial voyage. 
 
THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 287 
 
 THE rOUETEENTH AT GETTYSBUEG. 
 
 " Come, Fred, tell me all about that glorious nglit whicli, 
 you know, it was just my ill-luck to miss. If it had been 
 such another whipping as we had at Fredericksburg, the 
 Fates would probably have let me be there. I have 
 heard several accounts, and know the regiment did nobly ; 
 but the boys all get so excited telling about it that I 
 have not yet a clear idea of the fight." 
 
 ." Here goes, then," said the adjutant, lighting a fresh 
 cigar. " It will serve to pass away time, which hangs so 
 heavy on our hands in this dreary hospital." 
 
 " We were not engaged on the first day of the fight, 
 July 1, 1863, but were on the march for Gettysburg that 
 day. All the afternoon we heard the cannonading grow- 
 ing more and more distinct as we approached the town, 
 and as we came on the field at night learned that the 
 First and Eleventh corps had fought hard, sufiered much, 
 and been driven back outside the town with the loss of 
 Major-General Eeynolds, who, it was generally said, 
 brought on an engagement too hastily with Lee's whole 
 army. "We bivouacked on the field that night, 
 
 " About nine o'clock the next morning we moved up 
 to the front, and "by ten o'clock the enemy's shells were 
 falling around us. Captain Coit had a narrow escape 
 here. We had jusf stacked arms and were resting, when 
 a runaway horse, frightened by the shelling, came full- 
 tilt at him ; 'twas ' heavy cavalry ' against ' light infantry ;' 
 but Coit had presence of mind enough to draw his sword, 
 and bringing it to a point it entered the animal's belly. 
 The shock knocked Coit over, and he was picked up 
 senseless, with a terribly battered face, and carried to the 
 rear." 
 
 " By the way, Fred, is it not singular that he should 
 have recovered so quickly and completely from such a 
 severe blow ?'^ 
 
288 THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 
 
 ••go 11 
 
 " Indeed it is. He is as handsome as ever ; but to 
 on. At four o'clock in the afternoon we moved up to 
 support a battery, and here we lay all night. About 
 dark Captain Broatch went out with the pickets. Though 
 under artillery fire all day, we were not really engaged, 
 as we did not fire a gun. Some of our pickets, unfortu- 
 nately going too far to the front, were taken prisoners 
 during the night. 
 
 "At about five o'clock on the morning of the 8d, Cap- 
 tain Townsend went out with Companies B and D and 
 relieved Broatch. As soon as he got out, Townsend ad- 
 vanced his men as skirmishers some three hundred yards 
 beyond the regiment, which moved up to the impromptu 
 rifle-pits, which were formed partially by a stone wall 
 and partially by a rail fence. Just as soon as our skir- 
 mishers were posted they began firing at the rebel skir- 
 mishers, and kept it up all clay, until the grand attack in 
 the afternoon. Before they had been out twenty minutes, 
 Corporal Huxham, of Company B, was instantly killed 
 by a rebel bullet. It was not discovered until another 
 of our skirmishers, getting out of ammunition, went up 
 to him, saying, ' Sam, let me have some cartridges.' Ke- 
 ceiving no answer, he stooped down and discovered that 
 a bullet had entered the poor fellow's mouth and gone 
 out at the back of his head, killing the brave, Chancel- 
 lorsville-scarred corporal so quickly that he never knew 
 what hurt him. 
 
 " Presently Captain Moore was ordered down with four 
 companies into a lot near by, to drive the rebel sharp- 
 shooters out of a house and barn from whence they were 
 constantly picking off our men. Moore went down on a 
 double-quick, and, as usual, ahead of his men ; he was 
 first man in the barn, and as he entered the Butternuts 
 were already jumping out. Moore and his men soon 
 cleared the barn, and then started for the house. Here 
 that big sergeant in Company J (Norton) sprang in at 
 the front door just in time to catch a bullet in his thigh. 
 
THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 289 
 
 from a reb watching at the back ; but that reb did not 
 live long to brag of it, one of our boys taking him ' on 
 the wing.' Moore soon cleared the house out and went 
 back mth his men. Later in the day the rebels again 
 occupied the house, and Major Ellis took the regiment 
 and drove them out,' burning the house, so as not to be 
 bothered by any more concealed sharpshooters in it." 
 
 "Yes, I know the major don't like to do a thing but 
 once, so he always does it thoroughly the first time." 
 
 "It was in these charges for the possession of that 
 house we lost more officers and men than in all the rest 
 of the fight. 
 
 "About one o'clock in the afternoon the enemy, who 
 had been silent so long that the boys were cooking coffee, 
 smoking, sleeping, etc., suddenly opened all their batte- 
 ries of reserve artillery upon the position held by our 
 corps (the Second). First one great gun spoke ; then, as 
 if it had been the signal for the commencement of an ar- 
 tillery conversation, the whole hundred and twenty or 
 more opened their mouths at once and poured out their 
 thunder. A perfect storm of shot and shell rained around 
 and among us. The boys quickl}^ jumped to their rifles, 
 and lay down behind the wall and rail barricade. For 
 two hours this storm of shot and shell continued, and 
 seemed to increase in fury. Good God ! I never heard 
 an}' thing like it, and our regiment has been under fire 
 ' somewhat,' as you know. The ground trembled like an 
 aspen leaf; the air was full of small fragments of lead 
 and iron from the shells. Then the sounds — there was 
 the peculiar 'whoo? — whoo? — wlioo-ooT of the round- 
 shot; the ' which-onef — which-oneV of that fiendish 
 Whitworth projectile, and the demoniac shriek of shells. 
 It seemed as if all the devils in hell were holding high 
 carnival. But, strange as it niay seem, it was like many 
 other 'sensation doings,' 'great cry and little w^ool,' as 
 our regiment, and, in fact, the whole corps, lost very few 
 men by it, the missiles passing over beyond our position, 
 . 19 
 
290 THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 
 
 save tlie Whitworth projectiles, whicli did not quite reach 
 us, as their single gun of that description was two miles 
 off. Had the enemy had better artillerists at their guns, 
 or a better view of our position, I cannot say what would 
 have been the final result ; but certain it is, nothing mor.- 
 tal could have stood that fire long, had it been better 
 directed, and if our corps had broken that day, Gettys- 
 burg would have been a lost battle, and General Lee, in- 
 stead of Heintzelman, the commanding officer in this 
 District of Columbia to-day. 
 
 "About three P.M. the enemy's fire slackened, died 
 away, and the smoke lifted to disclose a corps of the rebel 
 ^ Grand Army of Northern Virginia,' advancing across 
 the long level plain in our front, in three magnificent 
 lines of battle, with the troops massed in close column by 
 division on both flanks. How splendidly they looked ! 
 Our skirmishers, who had stayed at their posts through 
 all, gave them volley after volley as they came on, until 
 Captain Townsend was ordered to bring his men in, which 
 he did in admirable order ; his men, loading and firing 
 all the way, came in steadily and coolly — all that were 
 left of them, for a good half of them were killed or 
 wounded before they reached the regiment. 
 
 '' On, on came the rebels, with colors flying and bayo- 
 nets gleaming in the sunlight, keeping their lines as 
 straight as if on parade; over fences and ditches they 
 come, but still their lines never oreak, and still they come. 
 For a moment all is hush along our lines, as we gaze in 
 silent admiration at these brave rebs ; then our division 
 commander, ' Aleck Hayes,' rides up, and, pointing to the 
 last fence the enemy must cross before reaching us, says, 
 * Don't fire till they get to that fence ; then let 'em have.' 
 
 " On, on, come the rebs, till we can see the whites of 
 their eyes, and hear their officers command, ' Steady, boys, 
 steady !' They reach the fence, some hundred yards in 
 front of us, when suddenly the command ' Fire !' rings 
 down our line ; and, rising as one man, the rifles of the old 
 
THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 291 
 
 Second Army Corps ring a deatli-knell for many a brave 
 heart, in butternut dress, worthy of a better cause — a 
 knell that will ring in the hearts of many mothers, sisters, 
 and wives, on many a plantation in the once fair and 
 sunny South, where there will be w^eeping and wailing 
 for the soldier who never returns, who sleeps at Gettys- 
 burg ! 
 
 " ' Load and fire at will !' 
 
 " Oh, heavens ! how we poured our fire into them then 
 
 ' — a merciless hail of lead ! Their first line wavers, breaks,, 
 
 and runs;, some of their color sergeants halt and plant* 
 
 their standards firmly in the ground* — they are too well 
 
 disciplined to leave their colors yet. But they stop only 
 
 for a moment ; then fall back, colors and all. They fall 
 
 , back, but rally, and dress on the other lines, under a tre- 
 
 ' mendous fire from our advancing rifles ; rally, and come 
 
 I on again to meet their death. Line after line of rebels 
 
 ( come up, deliver their fire, one volley, and they are mown 
 
 ' down like the grass of the field. They fall back, form, 
 
 , and come up again, with their battle-flags still waving ; 
 
 j but again they are driven back. 
 
 " On our right is a break ill the line, where a battery 
 1 has been in position, but, falling short of ammunition, 
 \ and unable to move it off under such a heavy fire, the 
 I gunners have abandoned it to its fate. Some of the rebels 
 gain a footing here. ^ Ojje daring fellow leaps upon the 
 gun, and waves his rebel flag. Li an instant a right 
 oblique fire from ' ours,' and a left oblique from the regi- 
 ment on the left of the position, rolls the ragged rebel and 
 rebel rag in the dust — rolls the determined force bacls: 
 from the gun, and it is ours. 
 
 "By-and-by the enemy's lines come up smaller and 
 
 thinner, break quicker, and are longer in forming. Our 
 
 i boys are wild with excitement, and grow reckless. Lieu- 
 
 \ tenant John Tibbetts stands up yelling like mad, ' Give it 
 
 to 'em ! give it to 'em 1 A bullet enters his arm — that 
 
 Isame arm in which he caught two bullets at Antietam ; 
 
(( ( 
 
 292 THE FOURTEENTH AT GETTYSBURG. 
 
 Johnny's game arm drops by liis side ; he turns quickly 
 to his first lieutenant, saying, ' I have got another bullet 
 in the same old arm, but I don't care a d — n !' 
 
 " Heaven forgive Johnny ! rebel lead will sometimes 
 bring rebel words with it. All of 'Ours' are carried 
 away with excitement; the sergeant-major leaps a wall, 
 dashes down among the rebs, and brings back a battle- 
 flag; others follow our sergeant-major; and before the 
 enemy's repulse becomes a rout, we of the Fourteenth 
 have six of their battle- flags, 
 
 "Prisoners are brought in by hundreds, officers and 
 men. We pay no attention to them, being too busy 
 sending our leaden messengers after the now flying 
 hosts. One of our prisoners, a rebel officer, turns to me, 
 saying— 
 
 '' ' Where are the men we've been fighting ?' 
 
 Here,' I answer, pointing down our short, thin line. 
 Good God !' says he, ' is that all ? I wish I could 
 get back.' " 
 
 " Yes," I interrupted, " Townsend told me that when he 
 fell back with his skirmishers and saw the whole length 
 of our one small, thin little line pitted against those then 
 full lines of the rebels, his heart almost sank within him ; 
 but Meade had planned that battle well, and every one of 
 our soldiers told." 
 
 " Yes," said Fred, " Meade planned the fight well, and 
 Hancock, Hayes, and, in fact, all of them fought it well. 
 All through the fight General Hancock might be seen 
 galloping up and down the lines of our bully corps, re- 
 gardless of the leaden hail all about him; and when 
 finally severely wounded in the hip, he was carried a 
 little to the rear, where he lay on his stretcher, and still 
 gave his orders. 
 
 " The fight was now about over ; there was only an 
 occasional shot exchamred between the retreating: rebel 
 ijharpshooters and our own men, and I looked about me, 
 and took an account of stock. We had lost about seventy 
 
THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 293 
 
 killed and wouDded and taken prisoners, leaving only a 
 hundred men lit for duty. We had killed treble that 
 number/ and taken nearly a brigade of prisoners ; six 
 stands of colorS; and guns, swords, and pistols without 
 number. For the first time we had been through an 
 action without having an officer killed or fatally wounded, 
 though Tibbetts, Seymour, Stoughton, Snagg, Seward, 
 and Dudley were more or less seriously wounded, and 
 Coit disabled. 
 
 " Hardly a man in the regiment had over two or three 
 cartridges left. Dead and wounded rebels were piled up 
 in heaps in front of us, especially in front of Companies 
 A and B, where Sharpe's rifles had done effective work. 
 
 " It was a great victory. • ' Fredericksburg on the other 
 leg,' as the boys said. The rebel prisoners told us their 
 leaders assured them that they would only meet the 
 Pennsylvania militia ; but when they saw that d — d ace 
 of clubs (the trefoil badge of the Second Corps) a cry 
 went throuo^h their lines — 
 
 " ' The Army of the Potomac, by Heaven !' 
 
 " So ended the battle of Gettysburg, and the sun sank 
 to rest that night on a battle-field that had proved that 
 the Army of the Potomac could and would save the 
 people of the North from invasion whenever and wherever 
 they may be assailed. 
 
 " ' Long shall the tale be told, 
 Yea, when our babes are old.' " 
 
 " Pshaw, Fred ! you are getting sentimental. Let's go 
 out in the air and have another cigar." 
 
 THE ¥AT JOE kUim BUEIED VANDEGEIFT. 
 
 "I promised to tell you something about Aldie and 
 Upperville," said the adjutant; "we did not go into the 
 fight ourselves, being for the first time kept in reserve ; 
 
294 THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 
 
 but after we had finislied driving the enemy, and began 
 to move back to the army, our brigade had the honor of 
 covering the rear, when we had some tolerably sharp 
 work. 
 
 " You were with us last year when we had that set-to 
 with Stuart, at Aldie, and remember the position pretty 
 well. The rebels came up the Snickersville Eoad in 
 just the same way they attacked last December; but 
 Kilpatrick met them differently. He swept round out- 
 side of the town, and charged into the road by the first 
 wood. The Tenth New York went first, and drove them 
 to that dip of the road where it bends in both directions. 
 Here they were met and forced back. Kilpatrick sent 
 in the Second New York as support. 
 
 "Their major, instead of leading, gave his orders from 
 the rear, which produced some confusion, and conse- 
 quently the rebels were getting the better of our men. 
 They say that Kilpatrick was half mad. He had brought 
 on the fight, and now if his men failed him he w^as lost. 
 Just then Colonel Doughty with his First Maine came up 
 in perfect order. Kilpatrick rode up to them, and they 
 dashed forward with a vigor that was irresistible. Eight 
 before them they swept the rebels, past the woods and 
 the hollow, and up to the last hill, where there were some 
 old haystacks grouped together. Some of the rebels 
 were protecting themselves under their cover, and opened 
 a heavy fire; but it was no use. Eleven horses went 
 down right around the stacks; but even that did not 
 checl^ the Maine fellows. Closing in, they drove the 
 enemy away, and, fighting hand to hand, forced them 
 down the steep into the hollow beyond. 
 
 "It was terribly close work ; Kilpatrick himself was, they 
 say, once surrounded and a prisoner, but he was cut out 
 before he could be fairly taken. That fine old soldier, 
 Colonel Doughty, got in too deep. The rebels ordered 
 him to yield, but he refused. If he had had his own 
 horse, which was so perfectly trained that he could do 
 
THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 295 
 
 anything, the old man would have succeeded in keeping 
 a clear place around him, and would have cut his way 
 through ; but the animal on which he was mounted was 
 inferior in strength and activity to the emergency. The 
 rebels pressed in upon him, and the brave old man, 
 fighting to the last, went down. There was no holding 
 the Maine boys after that. The rebels were driven well 
 down the hill, our artillery got into position and raked 
 them fearfully, and for a mile or two it was a perfect rout. 
 
 *' The rebels cut across the Middlebury Eoad, which, 
 through Duf&e's misfortune that morning, was free. Ee- 
 inforcements coming up enabled them to get into order 
 again, and hold us for a while. Once again there was 
 severe fighting, and again they had to fall back, though 
 this time in a little better order. Still, each attack shook 
 them more and more. At last they began retreating ra- 
 pidly, leaving us a gun. 
 
 " After two days' fighting, all in our favor, they were 
 forced to make a stand at Upperville, in order to secure 
 their line of retreat through Ashby's Gap. All along the 
 stone-walls by the roadside, they dismounted sharp- 
 shooters, and wherever they deployed, they protected 
 themselves by similar breastworks. Kilpatrick took the 
 same precaution on the road, and it saved him from some 
 trouble. His column charging past the sharpshooters, 
 caught such a heavy fire that it had to fall back, and 
 Stuart's men charged in their turn. Then our carbineers 
 let them have it with terrible effect, weeding out their 
 squadrons effectually. Over the stone- walls, and through 
 the inclosures our men went at them, sometimes th rowing- 
 down the fences, at others going over them. The fight- 
 ing was something like Brandy Station, though we had 
 more decidedly the advantage. The rebels lost ver}^ se- 
 verely. They never succeeded in fairly meeting a charge. 
 From hill to hill they went, leaving- another piece in our 
 hands, and at last were driven pell-mell into the Gap. It 
 was not until they reached the other side, and were co- 
 
296 THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIFT. 
 
 vered bj their infantry and artillery, that they were able 
 to make a stand. 
 
 " Kilpatrick's brigade had the work that day all to it- 
 self; and they did it so thoroughly that we in the reserve 
 had nothing to do but to follow up. The next morning, 
 Pleasanton having found out all he wanted to know, and 
 •done what he wanted, gave orders to fall back to our 
 position, covering the march of the army. 
 
 " Our brigade now took the rear of the column ; the 
 First Pennsylvania and First Kew Jersey, with some of 
 the Third Pennsylvania, being deployed as skirmishers. 
 As soon as the rebels discovered that we were actually 
 retiring, they came swarming out of the Gap. They had 
 received such a lesson, however, that it was not until after 
 we had passed through Upper ville that they attempted 
 to close. Here they came out suddenly, wheeling from 
 behind a hill, and charged. It was a very distinguished 
 failure. They rode in toward our skirmishers as if fully 
 determined to break through ; but Lucas opened such a 
 scathing fire upon them that they reeled back in dismay. 
 
 "Among our skirmishers that day, Private Yandegrift, 
 of Company D, particularly distinguished himself. All 
 our men were cool and daring, keeping their positions 
 steadily, but he fought with marked judgment, ^ever 
 throwing away his fire, and always the nearest man to 
 the enemy. Close to his side fought Joseph Allen, of 
 Company F, a reckless, warm-hearted, light-headed boy. 
 I do not know that they fought really better than others, 
 but they happened to catch my eye, and subsequent 
 events impressed their names on my memory. Curiously 
 enough, the storm of bullets fired by the rebels did not 
 injure a man of our line. Their skirmishers were nervous 
 and fired wild, while the aim of our men was unusually 
 fatal, 
 
 " At last the rebels brought up some artillery, and began 
 firing shells at our skirmishers, while their men kept 
 carefully out of range. One shell burst under the horse 
 
THE WAY JOE ALLEN BURIED VANDEGRIPT. 29 T 
 
 of Captain Englebert, of the Third Pennsylvania, curiously 
 enough without harming horse or rider. Another struck 
 Yandegrift in the side, tearing through him without ex- 
 ploding. As he fell, Allen sprang to the ground, seized 
 him, and placed his body carefully by the fence. At 
 this moment the rebels made another abortive charsre, 
 and Allen had to remount. This was near the Dover 
 Mills, on the Middleburg Eoad, and terminated their 
 attempt at pursuit. Leaving this body behind seemed to 
 weigh upon Joe's mind. He kept as far in the rear as 
 he could throus^h the whole after-movement. 
 
 " When the regiment halted, he came up to Captain 
 Lucas and begged permission to bring it in. The Cap- 
 tain gave leave, if the body did not lie inside the rebel 
 lines, and if he could find any men to accompany him. 
 Craven, of Company A, immediately volunteered. A 
 Pennsylvania man also pressed forward, as did two other 
 Jersey men. These five mounted and quietly advanced 
 toward the rebel forces. Managing to avoid an outlying 
 picket, they stole through the woods until they were 
 close upon the spot where lay Yandegrift's body, partially 
 hidden by the fence. There, within one hundred yards, 
 stretched the enemy's skirmish line, with no obstruction 
 intervening between them and the body. 
 
 "'No matter,' said our men to each other, 'it lies 
 without the lines, and we can get it without disobeying 
 orders.' 
 
 " So suddenly they rode out of the woods and spread 
 themselves before the body. As they did so, Craven 
 dismounted and lifted the body on his horse. The move- 
 ment so paralyzed the rebels that they were unable to fire 
 until after he had done this. Then, as he remounted, they 
 delivered a hasty and ineffectual fire. Without returning 
 it our men wheeled and dashed back into cover with the 
 burden for which they had risked so much. Half sadly, 
 half triumphantly, they bore it back to camp ; and as 
 they laid it in a decent grave felt a soldier's satisfaction 
 
298 BRAGG AND HIS HIGH PRIVATE. 
 
 that tlieir comrade obtained a proper resting-place from 
 their hands, instead of being .tumbled into a ditch by the 
 enemy, or left nnburied, a prey to unclean beasts and the 
 foul birds of prey." 
 
 BEAGa AND HIS HIGH PEIYATE. 
 
 "While Bragg's troops were on their retreat from Mur- 
 freesborough, Tenn., ragged, hungry, and weary, they 
 straggled along the road for miles, with an eye to their 
 own comfort, but a most immilitary neglect of rules and 
 regulations. Presently one of them espied, in the woods 
 near by, a miserable broken-down mule, which he at 
 once seized and proceeded to put to his use, by improvis- 
 ing, from stray pieces of rope, a halter and stirrups. 
 This done, he mounted with grim satisfaction, and pur- 
 sued his way. He was a wild Texas tatterdemalion, 
 bareheaded, barefooted, and wore in lieu of a coat a rusty- 
 looking hunting-shirt. With hair unkempt, beard un- 
 shorn, and face unwashed, his appearance was grotesque 
 enough ; but, to add to it, he drew from some receptacle 
 his corn-cob pipe, and made perfect his happiness by 
 indulging in a comfortable smoke. 
 
 While thus sauntering along, a company of bestarred 
 and bespangled horsemen — General Bragg and staff — 
 rode up, and were about to pass on, when the rather un- 
 usual appearance of the man attracted their notice. The 
 object of their attention, however, apparently neither 
 knew nor cared to know them, but looked and smoked 
 ahead with careless indifference. 
 
 "Who are you ?" asked the Major-general. 
 
 "Nobody," was the answer. 
 
 " Where did you come from ?" 
 
 " Nowhere." 
 
 " Where are you going ?" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 299 
 
 \ 
 
 " Where do you belong ?" 
 
 " Don't belong anywhere." 
 
 "Don't you belong to Bragg's army?" 
 
 '•"Bragg's army! Bragg's army!" replied the chap. 
 " Why, he's got no army ! One half he shot in Kentucky, 
 and the other half has just been whipped to death at 
 Murfreesborough." 
 
 Bragg asked no more questions, but turned and spur- 
 red away. 
 
 THE EIGHT MAN IS THE RIGHT PLACE. 
 
 For some time the Army of the Cumberland knew a 
 jovial, smiling, wide-awake personage (a native of the 
 " Green Isle," but who is remarkably well cut-and-dried 
 and seasoned, nevertheless) by the name of M. E. Joyce. 
 He corresponded for different Northern papers, visited 
 around among the camps, was always in with his laugh 
 and his story, and as fond of accompanying an expedi- 
 tion, sharing , danger, and having a rough time, as " any 
 other man." 
 
 Who of our army of&cers does not remember little 
 Joyce — or " Jice," as we termed him? That he was use- 
 ful as well as ornamental, and that his brains were put 
 in pretty nearly tj^e right place, let the following facts be 
 ample proof. 
 
 In November, '63, while plodding in the vicinity of 
 Nashville, crossing over from one camp to another, our 
 hero was picked up, or, rather, pulled down, from his 
 horse by some rebel guerrillas or patrols. He was rather 
 taken aback ; but for an instant only. He was soon 
 entirely "aisy" with them — telling them all sorts of a 
 story, and, as he states it, "letting on secesh like the 
 
 d 1," as a butternut citizen. Satisfied that he was " a 
 
 good enough Morgan " for them, he was not retained long ; 
 
300 THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT TLACE. 
 
 and he hastily scrambled back to the city highly elated 
 with his adventure. 
 
 "Hark'ee, now, Joyce; you are just my man," said 
 Colonel Truesdail. "You can go to Murfreesborough 
 without any trouble — can get me the information we 
 desire. I will get you a good horse and outfit, and pay 
 you three hundred dollars for the trip, if you are quick 
 and smart." 
 
 The newspaper-man's chuckle rounded into an atten- 
 tive period, as he pondered over the idea, and heard all 
 about the " how to do it " from the Chief of Police. He 
 was to ride boldly up to the rebel lines and claim to be 
 the regular correspondent of the Cincinnati " Enquirer " 
 — a man of conservative sentiments, who was friendly to 
 the South, was opposed to the war, was in the Union 
 army as regular correspondent, had written something to 
 ■offend General Rosecrans, and the latter had imprisoned 
 and abused him; and he was now determined to injure 
 Rosecrans and his crowd all he could. Joyce liked the 
 idea. It was novel and feasible — would take him into 
 tall company, and would pay well. Joyce, therefore, 
 prepared ; and about the 25th he sallied forth as boldly 
 as would the knight of La Mancha, and as happy as 
 Sancho, his squire, when at his best estate as " governor 
 of an island." 
 
 The joke and Joyce succeeded admirably. He was 
 taken to Murfreesborough, and into the august presence 
 of Bragg. He told his tale with an air of injured inno- 
 cence, ajad swore great oaths of vengeance against the 
 "stupid Dutchman," the leader of the Yankee fanatics 
 and cowards at Nashville, &c. His assertions were par- 
 tially borne out by one of General Bragg's principal offi- 
 cers, who stated that he had recently seen an account in 
 a Nashville or Louisville paper of a difficulty with some 
 writer of the Cincinnati '^ Enquirer," whom the LTnion 
 commander had imprisoned and then banished from his 
 army lines. 
 
THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 301 
 
 Bragg was not a little pleased at the incident. A tyrant 
 in his own " bailiwick/' he was- gratified to hear of the 
 malignant fanaticism and injustice of the opposing com- 
 mander. 
 
 " X am glad to see yon, sir," he said, addressing the 
 humble representative of Cincinnati, " for I respect your 
 occupation and admire the men who employ you. The 
 Cincinnati ' Enquirer' is the only paper in the West that 
 does the cause of the South even common justice. I will 
 protect you within my lines, and render your stay as 
 comfortable as possible." 
 
 Mr. Joyce was thankful and at ease ; he always is. 
 He was again slightly severe on the " Dutchman" in com- 
 mand at Nashville, and on the "abolition fanatics" of 
 the I^orth, and, now that he was in the proper position, 
 it should not be his fault if he did not write home to 
 the Cincinnati " Enquirer" some homely truths, j5?^o bono 
 publico. His only fear was that he would not be able to 
 send his productions to the " Enquirer." 
 
 "Never fear about that," replied General Bragg, "I 
 will see to that. My man John Morgan is superintendent 
 of the railroad-system in the Southwest, and will get 
 your letters through by the first trains." 
 
 Pleased with the conceit, Bragg and Joyce both smiled 
 over a nip of quite new and sharp Eobertson County 
 whiskey. Supper being announced, Joyce was invited 
 to the table, and, with the usual modesty and timidity 
 of his ancestry in the ascendant, he sat down to his rations 
 of beans, coffee, and corn bread. Bragg and his staff 
 were there assembled^ and the tale of Joyce was again 
 unfolded to admiring auditors. Aftel^ supper Joyce 
 retired to a vacant corner, and with pen and paper he 
 toiled for an hour, writing up one of th^ most scathing 
 and glowing diatribes upon low-lived " Dut-chmen" and 
 high-toned gentlemen, the horrors of war, the blessings 
 of peace, and the ignorance and folly of Northern aboli- 
 tionists and fanatics. The epistle was properly enveloped. 
 
302 THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 
 
 addressed in style (for Joyce is an elegant and rapid pen- 
 man) to the editor of the Cincinnati "Enquirer," and 
 handed to an aid of General Bragg's to be forwarded by 
 the Morgan line ; and thus ended the task of our quon- 
 dam correspondent. He strolled over the town iru com- 
 pany with an under-officer or two, and a fair cigar. To 
 his companions he expatiated largely upon Nashville 
 army affairs and Korthern sentiments and sympathies ; 
 and it need not be specially set down, for aught we know, 
 that he told any more of " whoppers" than the time and 
 occasion would warrant. 
 
 Next day the man of the " Enquirer," after breakfast- 
 ing with some ofl&cers at Bragg's head-quarters, set out to 
 view the town, as per assurance of the officers that he 
 was quite at liberty to do. The railroad-depot, the store- 
 houses, the outer works, &c., were visited, in the most in- 
 different and unconcerned manner. Ere long, however, 
 some military officer, dressed up in a little '' brief author- 
 ity," accosted our explorer after items and demanded that 
 he give an account of himself 
 
 • To the divil with ye ! An' is it the likes of you that 
 is afther stoppin' me and axin' me name an' business ? 
 Go to Major-General Bragg, an' he'll tell ye who I am !" 
 
 The of&cer was not to be thus put aside; he collared 
 Joyce forthwith, and led him to the provost-marshal's 
 office, near by, supposing him to be .a shirking soldier 
 or skulking conscript. The provost-marshal was of the 
 same opinion. 
 
 "I'll send you to your regiment. What is it?" asked 
 the inarshal. 
 
 " You'll not do the likes at all, now," said Joyce, " for 
 I don't belong to any." 
 
 " Oh,, ho ! you don't ? Then you're just the man I 
 want ; for -I know of a regiment that has just room for 
 you," replied the marshal. 
 
 Matters began to look serious for Joyce. The town 
 was all astir, for this was but a few days before the battle 
 
THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE. 303 
 
 of Stone River. He told his story to the marshal, and it 
 was agreed that if he should go back at once to Bragg's 
 head- quarters and get a pass, or indorsement, it would 
 be all right. Joyce did so; and an actual pass was 
 granted to him, over Bragg's sign manual, giving him 
 the run of the town — which pass Joyce showed to the 
 marshal with considerable glee and, withal, a slight taste 
 of impudent defiance. 
 
 After looking about the town, our correspondent took 
 the cars for a trip down towards Bridgeport — was away 
 two or three days, going as far as Atlanta, Ga., ascertained 
 the general condition of the rebel rear, and returned to 
 Murfreesborough. Again he basked at times in the 
 presence of General Bragg and his officials, and wrote 
 lively and caustic philippics for the able "Enquirer," 
 and sat at Bragg's table and discussed the war and his 
 muttons. And, to cap the very climax of absurdity and 
 impudence, our man mounted his " Rosinante" — the horse 
 he sallied forth with from the police stable at Nashville 
 • — and rode out to one or more of the grand division 
 reviews with President Jefferson Davis, Bragg, and his 
 escort — Davis being then on his Southern tour. 
 
 It was now time for Joyce to be off, while his budget 
 was full of news and the signs were favorable. Some 
 officers invited him on the night of the review to go out 
 with them to see some fair maids and have a good time. 
 The girls were at an out-of-the-way place ; and the less 
 said about their chastity the better — so reports Joyce. 
 Arrived there, the party dismount, hitch their horses, 
 and make themselves agreeable within-doors. Joyce 
 watches his opportunity, slips out for a moment, unties 
 - the horses and turns them loose in the darkness, to pre- 
 vent possible pursuit, stealthily mounts his own horse — 
 or, more probably, the best one of the lot — and makes 
 off for very dear life. He was fortunate enough to elude 
 the pickets, the night being very dark ; and ere morning 
 
304 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 
 
 he made his way across to the Cumberland River, and 
 thence to the Federal lines. 
 
 His information was received with the liveliest satis- 
 faction, and the joke thus perpetrated upon both Bragg 
 and the Cincinnati " Enquirer" was the talk of the day. Its 
 importance can be estimated when we state that the Union 
 army advanced towards Murfreesborough a short time 
 after his return. His statements were corroborated by 
 two other spies just in from Murfreesborough, and two 
 days after his return, there came into our lines a most 
 respectable citizen, previously and now a merchant of 
 Murfreesborough, who also confirmed Joyce's story, not 
 only as to his arm}^ information, but as to the rdle he had 
 played, and the manner in which it was done. 
 
 THE FiaHT AT BEANDY. 
 
 " It was the prettiest cavalry fight that you ever sgiw," 
 said the adjutant, stretching his legs, and lighting a fresh 
 cigar. 
 
 "It was just my luck to lose it," I answered. ''Here 
 have I been lying; growling, and grumbling, while 
 you fellows have been distinguishing yourselves. It 
 was miserable to be taken sick just when the army 
 got in motion, and still worse not to hear a word of 
 what was going on. I almost wished that we had been 
 a newspaper regiment, so that I could learn something 
 about our share in that day's work. Be a good fellow, 
 and play reporter for my benefit. Freshen hawse, as tjie 
 nautical novelists say, and begin." 
 
 "Well, we were lying at Warrenton Junction, making 
 ourselves as comfortable as possible after the raid, when 
 on the morning of the 8th of June, the whole division 
 was ordered out in the very lightest marching order. 
 That night we lay close to Kelly's Ford, in column 
 
THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 305 
 
 of battalions, the men holding their horses as they slept^ 
 and no fires being lighted. 
 
 " At four o'clock on the morning of the 9th, we were 
 again in motion, and got across, the ford without inter- 
 ruption or discovery. Yorke, with the third squadron, 
 was in advance, and as we moved, he managed so well 
 that he bagged every picket on the road. Thus we had 
 got almost upon the rebel camp before we were discovered. 
 We rode right into Jones' Brigade, the First Jersey and 
 First Pennsylvania charging together ; and before they 
 had recovered from the alarm we had a hundred and 
 fifty prisonei?s. The rebels were then forming thick 
 upon the hill-side by the station, and they had a battery 
 playing upon us like fun. Martin's New York Battery 
 on our side galloped into position, and began to answer 
 them. 'Then Wyndham formed his whole brigade for a 
 charge, except a squadron of the First Maryland, left to 
 support the battery. Our boys went in splendidly, keep- 
 ing well together, and making straight for the rebel bat- 
 tery on the hill behind the station. Wyndham himself 
 rode on the right, and Broderick charged more toward 
 the left, and with a yell we were on them. We were 
 only two hundred and eighty strong, and in front of us 
 was White's Battalion of five hundred. No matter for 
 that. Wyndham and Broderick were leading, and they 
 were not accustomed to count odds. 
 
 " As we dashed fiercely into them, sabre in hand, they 
 broke like a wave on the bows of a ship, and over and 
 through them we rode, sabring as we Vent. We could 
 not stop to take prisoners, for there in front of us was 
 the Twelfth Virginia, six hundred men, riding down to 
 support White. By Jove, sir, that was a charge I They 
 came up splendidl}^, looking steadier than we did our- 
 selves after the shock of the first charge. I do not know 
 whether Wyndham was still with ns, or if he had gone 
 to another regiment; but there was Broderick looking 
 full of fight, his blue eyes in a blaze, and his sabre 
 20 
 
306 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 
 
 clenclied, riding well in front. At tliem we went again, 
 and some of them this time met us fairly. I sawBrod- 
 erick's sabre go through a man, and the rebel gave a 
 convulsive leap out of his saddle, falling senseless to the 
 ground. It seemed but an instant before the rebels were 
 scattered in every direction, trying now and then to rally 
 in small parties, but never daring to await our approach. 
 
 " Now, there were the guns plain before us, the drivers 
 yelling at their horses, and trying to limber up. We 
 caught one gun before they could move it, and were 
 dashing after the others, when I heard Broderick shout- 
 ing in a stormy voice. I tell you, it was a startling sight. 
 The fragments of White's Battalion had gathered together 
 toward the left of the field, and were charging in our rear. 
 The First Maryland was there, and Broderick was shout- 
 ing at them in what their colonel considered a ^very 
 ungentlemanly manner,' to move forward to the charge. 
 At the same time two fresh regiments, the Eleventh .Vir- 
 ginia, and another, were coming down on our front. In- 
 stead of dashing at White's men, the First Maryland 
 wavered and broke, and then we were charged at the 
 same time in front and rear. We had to let the- guns go, 
 and gather together as well as possible to cut ourselves out. 
 Gallantly our fellows met the attack. We were broken, 
 of course, by the mere weight of the attacking force, 
 but, breaking them up too, the whole field was covered 
 with small squads of fighting men. I saw Broderick 
 ride in with a cheer, and open a way for the men. His 
 horse went down fn the melee ; but little Wood, the bu- 
 gler of Company G, sprang down, and gave him his ani- 
 mal, setting off himself to catch another. A rebel rode 
 at the bugler, and succeeded in getting away his arms 
 before help came. As Wood still went after a horse, 
 another fellow rode at him. 
 
 "The boy happened at that moment to see a carbine 
 where it had^ been dropped after firing. He" picked up 
 the empty weapon, aimed it at the horseman, made him 
 
THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 30 1 
 
 dismount, give up liis arms, and start for the rear. Then 
 he went in again. Lucas, Hobensack, Brooks, and Beek- 
 man, charged with twelve men into White's Battalion. 
 Fighting hand to hand they cut their way through, but 
 left nine of the men on the ground behind them. Hughes 
 was left almost alone in a crowd, but brought himself and 
 the men with him safe through. Major Shelmire was 
 seen last lying across the dead body of a rebel cavalry- 
 m*an. None of us thought anything of two to one odds, 
 as long as we had a chance to ride at them. It was only 
 when we got so entangled that we had to fight hand to 
 hand that their numbers told heavily. It was in such a 
 place that I lost sight of Broderick. The troop horse 
 that he was riding was not strong enough to ride through 
 a knot of men, so that he had to fight them. He struck 
 one so heavily that he was stunned by the blow, but his 
 horse was still in the way ; swerving to one side, he es- 
 caped a blow from another, and, warding off the thrust 
 of a third, managed to take him with his point across the 
 forehead; just as he did so, however, his sabre, getting 
 tangled with the rebel's, .was jerked from his hand. 
 
 " He alwaj^s carried a pistol in his boot. Pulling that 
 out, he fired into the crowd, and put spurs to his horse. 
 The bullet hit a horse in front of him, -which fell. His 
 own charger rose at it, but stumbled, and as it did Bro- 
 derick himself fell, from a shot fired within arms' length 
 of him and a sabre stroke upon his side. 
 
 " I saw all this as a man sees things at such times, and 
 am not positive even that it all occurred as I thought I 
 saw it; for I was in the midst of confusion, and only 
 caught things around by passing glimpses. You see I 
 was myself having as much as I could do. The crowd 
 with whom Broderick was engaged was a little dii^tance 
 from me ; and I had just wheeled to ride up to his help 
 wfien two fellows put at me. The first one fired at me 
 and missed. Before he could again cock his revolver I 
 succeeded in closing with him. My sabre took him just 
 
308 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 
 
 in the neck, and must have cut the jugular. The blood 
 gushed out m a black-looking stream ; he gave a horrible 
 yell aad fell over the side of his horse, which galloped 
 away. Then I gathered up my reins, spurred my horse, 
 and went at the other one. I was riding that old black 
 horse that used to belong to the signal sergeant, and it 
 was in fine condition. As I drove in the spurs it gave a 
 leap high in the air. That plunge saved my life. The 
 rebel had a steady aim at me ; but the ball went through 
 the black horse's brain. His feet never touched ground 
 again. With a terrible convulsive contraction of all his 
 muscles the black turned over in the air, and fell on his 
 head and side stone dead, pitching me twenty feet. I 
 lighted on my pistol, the butt forcing itself far into my 
 side ; my sabre sprung out of my hand, and I lay, with 
 arms and legs all abroad, stretched out like a dead man. 
 Everybody had something else to do than to attend to 
 me, and there I lay where I had fallen. 
 
 " It seemed to me to have been an age before I began 
 painfully to come to myself; but it could not have been 
 many minutes. Every nerve was shaking ; there was a 
 terrible pain in my head, and a numbness through my 
 side which was even worse. Fighting was still going on 
 around me, and' my first impulse was to get hold of 
 my sword. I crawled to it and sank down as I grasped 
 it once more. That was only for a moment; for a 
 rebel soldier seeing me move, rode at me. The pre- 
 sence of danger roused me, and I managed to get to 
 my horse, behind which I sank, resting my pistol on the 
 saddle and so contriving to get an aim. As soon as the 
 man saw that, he turned off without attacking me. I 
 was now able to stand and walk ; so, holding my pistol 
 in one hand and my sabre in the other, I made my way 
 across the fields to where our battery was posted, scaring 
 some with my pistol and shooting others. Nobody 
 managed to hit me through the whole fight. When I 
 got up to the battery I found Wood there. He sang out 
 
THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 309 
 
 to me to wait and lie vc^o-uld get me a horse. One of the 
 men, who had just taken one, was going past, so Wood 
 stopped him and got it for me./ 
 
 ''Just at that moment White's Battalion and some other 
 troops came charging at the battery. The squadron of 
 the First Marjlaud, who were supporting it, met the 
 charge well as far as their numbers went ; but were, of 
 course, flanked on both sides by the heavy odds. All 
 of our men who were free came swarming up the hill, 
 and the cavalry were fighting over and around the guns. 
 In spite of the confusion, and even while their comrades 
 at the same piece were being sabred, the men at that 
 battery kept to their duty. They did not even look up 
 or around, but kept up their fire with unwavering steadi- 
 ness. There was one rebel, on a splendid horse, who 
 sabred three gunners while I was chasing him. He 
 wheeled in and out, would dart away and then come 
 sweeping back and out down another man in a manner 
 that seemed almost supernatural. We at last succeeded 
 in driving him away, but we could not catch or shoot 
 him, and he got off without a scratch. 
 
 " In the meantime the fight was going on elsewhere. 
 Kilpatrick's Brigade charged on our right. The Second 
 New York did not behave as well as it has sometimes 
 done since, and the loss of it weakened us a great deal. 
 The Tenth New York, though, went in well, and the 
 First Maine did splendidly, as it always does. In spite 
 of their superior numbers (Stuart had a day or two be- 
 fore reviewed thirty thousand cavalry at Culpepper, ac- 
 cording to the accounts of rebel of&cers), we beat them 
 heavily, and would have routed them completely if Duf- 
 fie's Brigade had come up. He, however, was engaged 
 with two or three hundred men on the left ; the aide-de- 
 camp sent to him with orders was wounded and taken 
 prisoner, and he is not the sort of man to find out the 
 critical point in a fight of his own accord. 
 
 "So now, thej^ bringing up still more reserves, and a 
 
310 THE FIGHT AT BRANDY. 
 
 whole division of theirs coming on the field, we began to 
 fall back. We had used them up so severely that they 
 could not press us very close, except in the neighborhood 
 of where the Second New York charged. There -some 
 of our men had as much as they could do to get out, and 
 the battery had to leave three of its guns. We formed 
 in the woods between a quarter and half a mile of the 
 field; another 'moved back to cover the left of Buford, 
 who was in' retreat toward Beverly Ford. Hart and 
 Wynkoop tried hard to cover the guns that were lost, 
 but they had too few men, and so had to leave them. 
 The rebels were terribly punished. By their own con- 
 fession they lost three times as many as we did. In our 
 regiment almost every soldier must have settled his man. 
 Sergeant Craig, of Company K, I believe, killed three. 
 Slate, of the same company, also went above the average. 
 But we lost terribly. Sixty enlisted men of the First 
 Jersey were killed, wounded, or missing. ' Colonel 
 Wyndham was wounded, but kept his saddle; Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Broderick and Major Shelmire were 
 killed ; Lieutenant Brooks was wounded ; Captain Saw- 
 yer and Lieutenant Crocker were taken prisoners ; and 
 I, as you see, have had to come in at last and refit. 
 
 " I have spun you a pretty long yarn, and you must 
 feel pretty tired ; but when the memory of the fight comes 
 over me I get almost as enthusiastic and excited as when 
 it was going on. I am so proud of the regiment, of&cers, 
 and men, that I am almost sorry for the promotion that 
 takes me out of it. Of course, I have had to be egotisti- 
 cal, and tell you what occurred to myself, as that was to 
 me the most intensely interesting ; but I do not want you 
 to fancy that I think I did any better, or fought any 
 harder than the others. In fact, I know that most of the 
 others did a good deal more than I did ; but not having 
 seen it, of course I could" not describe their share of the 
 fight quite so well as that which occurred in my. own 
 neighborhood and to my own person." 
 
NOT THE RIGHT *' SANDERS." 311 
 
 NOT THE EIGHT "SANDEES." 
 
 Pr.ominent among those thronging the head-quarters 
 of Brigadier-General Boyle, in the city of Louisville, one 
 morning in November, 1862, might have been noticed 
 a bright, handsome woman, who seemed exceedingly 
 anxious for the success of some suit in which she was 
 engaged. Her dress^ and manner indicated that she 
 belon-ged to the higher walks of life, but otherwise there 
 was nothing in her conduct or appearance by which a 
 careless observer would distinguish her from the hun- 
 dreds of others who daily gather at the office of the 
 comnianding Greneral, seeking favors as numerous and 
 diverse as the applicants themselves. The practised eye, 
 however, could easily discern certain suspicious circum- 
 stances attaching to her, and suggestive of the idea that 
 beneath all this pleasant exterior there might be an imder- 
 current of deceit and treachery. But her story was plau- 
 sible, her manners winning, her conversation sprightly 
 and interesting. The impression made by her upon all 
 with whom she came in contact was in the highest degree 
 favorable; and it seemed both ungallant and unjust to 
 harbor the shadow of a suspicion that she was otherwise 
 than a high-minded, honorable woman, who would soorn 
 any of the petty meannesses of such frequent occurrence 
 within our lines. 
 
 It subsequently transpired that her name was Ford, 
 that her husband, was a Baptist clergyman — a man of 
 ability and reputation, formerly editor of a religious paper 
 in that city, and now representative in the Confederate 
 Congress from that district of Kentucky. She herself 
 belonged to one of the first families of the city, and 
 moved in the highest circles of an aristocratic society. 
 To a naturally brilliant mind, strengthened and polished 
 by a thorough education, were added the ease and grace 
 of an accomplished Southern woman In the palmy days 
 
312 NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 
 
 of peace she had been the centre of a bright galaxy of 
 wit and beauty, dispensing to her admirers a bounteous 
 hospitality, as gonial as it was welcome. Now all was 
 changed. These social gatherings had long been discon- 
 tinued, the family circle was broken and scattered, her 
 husband was a fugitive from his home, and she was seek- 
 ing from the Federal authorities permission to pass south- 
 ward be3'-ond their lines and join him in his exile. 
 
 Lounging about the same head-quarters, on the same 
 morning, with seemingly no particular business or present 
 occupation save to watch the movements of others, was 
 a quiet-looking man, who now and then cast sharp, quick, 
 and stealthy glances at this Mrs. Ford, apparently regard- 
 ing her with much interest. Presently, seeing her some- 
 what apart from the crowd, he approached, and, in a 
 respectful, diffident manner, engaged her in conversation, 
 which continued for some time, and, from the animated 
 character it gradually assumed, was evidently upon some 
 subject in which both parties were deeply interested. 
 That it was of a confidential and private nature was easily 
 inferred from the caution maintained during its continu- 
 ance. It seems that, after some commonplace talk, the 
 stranger informed her that he was not what he then 
 seemed, but in reality Captain Denver, of the Confederate 
 army, visiting Louisville as a spy upon the movements 
 of the Federal army in that portion of Kentucky. 
 Highly gratified at this intelligence, the lady became 
 very friendly, and at once invited the captain to visit her 
 house. The invitation so warmly given could not be 
 declined without apparent rudeness, and. so w^as accepted, 
 but with, as the lady thought, a rather unnecessary and 
 suspicious hesitation. 
 
 Whatever unwillingness the captain may have out- 
 wardly exhibited in accepting the proffered invitation, 
 he was not slow in availing himself of its present privi- 
 leges and prospective pleasures. Calling soon afterwards 
 at the residence indicated, he was cordially received by 
 
NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 313 
 
 the family, whom lie found strong in their sympathy 
 with the South. Conversation naturally turned upon the 
 war, and by a warm espousal of the Confederate cause he 
 soon succeeded in ingratiating himself into their confi- 
 dence, and, by way of showing his confidence in them, 
 revealed his intention of presently escaping through the 
 Federal lines to the nearest Confederate command, taking 
 with him as large an amount of quinine, morphine, and 
 other medicines as he could safely carry. Confidence thus 
 implicitly reposed in the acquaintance of but a few hours 
 could not be otherwise than pleasing to the fair hostess ; 
 and surely a reciprocal confidence would be little enough 
 expression of gratitude in return. It was not safe; it 
 was not wise; but "there can be no harm in trusting so 
 true and firm a Southerner as Captain Denver," thought 
 Mrs. Ford. 
 
 It was her purpose, too, she said, to smuggle through 
 the lines large quantities of medicine, and at the same 
 time carry to the Confederate authorities valuable in- 
 formation of Federal movements and plans. Her hus- 
 band was in the South, and she apprehended no difficulty 
 in procuring a pass allowing her to go to him, so soon 
 as the circumstances of her case could be brought to the 
 personal notice of General Boyle. The enterprise in 
 which both were about to engage now became the exclu- 
 sive topic of a lengthy conversation, in the course of 
 which the captain remarked that he had not- sufficient 
 money to make as extensive purchases as he wished, 
 and was desirous of assistance from the friends of the 
 cause in Louisville. Mrs. Ford thought this need not 
 trouble him. She could arrange it to his satisfaction, 
 and appointed an interview for the next morning, at 
 which she hoped to report the complete success of her 
 efforts. The 'evening passed rapidly, and the captain 
 took his departure, leaving his entertainers highly pleased 
 with him as a valuable acquaintance and colaborer in the 
 cause of the South. 
 
314 
 
 The same evening the captain chanced to meet in the 
 office of the Gait House an old friend, Dr. Eogers, surgeon 
 on the staff of General Sterling Price, a paroled prisoner, 
 and then, by order of General Kosecrans, on his way to 
 Cairo to report to General Tuttle for transportation by 
 the first boat to Yicksburg. According to the terms of 
 the cartel agreed upon by the Federal and Confederate 
 authorities, surgeons were held as non-combatants and 
 not subject to exchange; but the doctors, with others, 
 found in the hospital at luka, had been detained by 
 General Eosecrans, in retaliation for the arrest and im- 
 prisonment by General Price of certain Union soldiers 
 in Mississippi, and as hostages for their return. 
 
 Their release had been followed b}^ his ; and he was 
 now, as stated, en route for Cairo. 
 
 At their meeting the next morning, Captain Denver 
 mentioned the doctor to Mrs. Ford as his friend, and an 
 intelligent and accomplished gentleman,,. with whom she 
 would no doubt be highly pleased, at the same time re- 
 marking that he was on his way south, and it would be 
 greatly to their advantage to go thither under his protec- 
 tion. To this she readily assented," and desired the cap- 
 tain to procure her an interview with the doctor. This 
 not very difficult task was speedily accomplished, and 
 the doctor called upon her that evening. Some time 
 having passed in conversational pleasantry, the doctor 
 adverted to the carrying of contraband goods, and spoke 
 disGouragingly of its policy, saying that anything of the 
 kind would be a violation of his parole, and might lead 
 to his arrest and imprisonment. With apparent sincerity, 
 Mrs. Ford promptly replied that though an enemy of the 
 Federal government, she was an honorable enemy, and 
 would engage in no enterprise to which the military 
 authorities would refuse their sanction. 
 
 The doctor seemed satisfied, and did not revert to the 
 subject, but, instead, imparted to her, in strict confidence, 
 a secret of the utmost importance. It will be remem- 
 
NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 315 
 
 bered that some montlis previous to this, George N. 
 Sanders had successfully escaped from the rebel States, 
 and made his way to England for the purpose of nego- 
 tiating a Confederate loan. High hopes of success, on his 
 part, were entertained, and his return was anxiously 
 looked for by the rebels. Mrs. Ford, with her whole 
 heart and soul in the cause, was more sanguine even than 
 her most sanguine friends ; and imagination can scarcely 
 conceive the bright colors with which she painted the 
 future of the embryo Confederacy. Who,,then, shall de- 
 scribe her surprise and joy when told by the doctor that 
 their friend. Captain Denver, was no other than this same 
 George K. Sanders, who had eluded the guard at the 
 Suspension Bridge, and was now on his return to the 
 Confederate capital? She was also informed that his 
 mission had been completely successful, that the loan had 
 been taken by the Eothschilds, and that Sanders had in 
 possession the evidence and documents connected there- 
 with, all written in cipher. She was cautioned against 
 hinting a word of it to anybody, or even intimating to 
 Sanders that she knew him in any other character than 
 as Captain Denver.' He would accompany them to 
 Yicksburg in his present disguise, and, until that point 
 was reached, safety required that it should be penetrated 
 by no one, however friendly to the South. The interests 
 at stake were too vast to be hazarded by exposure to a 
 mischance, which a single careless word might bring upon 
 them. In case, however, he should be suspected, it 
 would be their business to assist him in the secretion of 
 his papers. 
 
 The arrangements for the journey were discussed, and 
 the suggestion of the doctor warmly espoused by Mrs. 
 Ford. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she asked a 
 thousand questions about Sanders ; how he had managed 
 to escape the vigilance of the Federals ; by what means 
 he had accomplished his mission ; what was the state of 
 feeling in Europe, the prospects of recognition, and so 
 
316 NOT THE RIGHT "SANDERS." 
 
 on. The doctor answered as best he could, and at length 
 took his leave to make final preparations to start the 
 next evening. Passes were obtained, tickets bought, 
 trunks checked, berths secured in the sleeping-car. 
 Everything bade fair for the successful termination of the 
 enterprise. The night was passed comfortably in sleep, 
 from which they were wakened, on arriving at Cairo, to 
 find themselves under arrest. Denver and Kogers were 
 indignant, but Mrs. Ford trembled like an aspen-leaf, and 
 had the earth opened under her feet, revealing a bottom- 
 less chasm in w^hich she must inevitably be buried alive, 
 she could not have been more astonished and horrified. 
 She could find neither tongue nor heart to utter a word 
 in defence, and was led away in silence. A personal ex- 
 amination brought to light a number of letters and a large 
 quantity of quinine concealed about her clothes. The 
 trunks were found to contain similar contraband goods, 
 and much information of value to the rebels. Grieving 
 will not restore lost opportunities, nor bring to the sur- 
 face sunken treasures; else had not the hopes of Mrs. 
 Ford been thus ruthlessly dashed to the ground, her let- 
 ters and goods fallen into the hands of her enemies, and 
 the riches of the Confederate loan taken to themselves 
 wings and flown away. 
 
 After a protracted investigation Mrs. Ford was sent 
 South — since which time she has enoras^ed in the business 
 of publishing a book giving an account of her expe- 
 rience and treatment under Federal rule. Captain Den- 
 ver, alias George N. Sanders, alias Conklin, it is needless 
 to say, was simply a member of the detective police of 
 the Army of the Cumberland, and Dr. Eogers, of Price's 
 staff; also a member of the same corps. 
 
THE sharpshooter's STORY. 31 T 
 
 . THE SHAKPSHOOTEE'S STOEY. 
 
 He was a Berdan marksman. There was notliing 
 extraordinary about him, except his eye. 
 
 Not over thirty, but bronzed and hardened by years 
 of " lumbering," the furrows of his face seemed to partake 
 of the rigidity of the muscles that swelled over his tall, 
 gaunt form, as if carved out of red sandstone. Not large, 
 and never wide open, it appeared to be ever concentrat- 
 ing its focus for a " bead" over his unerring rifle. Light 
 gray, with small dark spots around the iris, it resembled 
 nothing that I can think of in the eye line as much as 
 that of a tiger-striped cat I used to have, only that the 
 white was nearly white. You perceive that I speak of 
 his eye in the singular. He had -but one — and that was 
 his left. Yet he shot from the right shoulder, and never 
 !• missed. 
 
 ' He had a very curious way of screwing his head around 
 I over the barrel of his piece, so as to bring his sole eye in 
 ' the proper line of sight, and this peculiarity had long ob- 
 , tained him a nickname among his comrades, which, how- 
 I ever, for fear of offending his sense of modesty, I decline 
 * to mention. So I shall call him Salem. 
 I A rebel rifle ball had wounded him in the shoulder, 
 I and it was in the hospital that he told me the following 
 simple but characteristic story. 
 
 As most stories transcribed, or supposed to be tran- 
 j scribed, from the lips of backwoodsmen and other per- 
 ) sons using a peculiar dialect, are written with an effort 
 1 to give that dialect, I shall, if only for novelty's sake, 
 I give Salem's story, to some extent, in ordinary colloquial 
 : English. 
 
 I " How did you lose your eye ?" I asked him, one morn- 
 ing. It was the third day after his admittance, and his 
 wound was doing very well. 
 
 " Well; sir," said he^ " there's a story to that ; but the 
 
318 THE sharpshooter's story. 
 
 ways of Providence are miglity. strange, and I guess I'm 
 even on that eye, if not on other things." 
 
 " If there's a story, Salem, let's have it by all means ; 
 I've nearly an hour to spare. So, unless you'd rather 
 not" tell it, out with it at once." 
 
 " Oh, I've no objection, doctor," replied Salem. But 
 he hesitated some time, nevertheless, before he began, as 
 follows : — 
 
 " There was a girl up to Maine that I used to hanker 
 after wonderful, five years ago. I don't know but I do 
 yet, for that matter," added he, in an undertone. " When- 
 ever I could get down to the village I was yanking round 
 Marm Glegg's — that was Kitty Glegg's mother, and Kitty 
 was the girl I took to, doctor. 
 
 '•' And Kitty warn't unkind to me, neither ; 't least until 
 Piney George come among us. We called him Piney, 
 because he came from Georgia, where he'd been lumber- 
 ing in the pines. 
 
 "George was a handsome chap, and his tongue was 
 double greased. I'll say that for him. And so, to cut it 
 short, he fell in love with Kitty, and 'cut me out,' and I 
 fit him, and licked him like almighty gosh, too. But it 
 was all in a fair, square, stand-up fight, and no gouging, 
 sticking, biting, or other foul scrimmaging. 
 
 " Well, doctor, the fellow bore malice, as all them wild- 
 cat Southerners do, and kept sneaking round watching 
 me whenever I went down to the village (which warn't 
 but half a day's march from the timber), for I still went 
 to see Kitty, and she still seemed glad to see me. But 
 the chief reason I went was, because I misdoubted, from 
 something George said to one of the fellows, that he didn't 
 mean all fair by Kitty no more than he did by me. 
 
 '^ " Hows'ever, he didn't make any motion towards play- 
 ing any tricks, and so, after I'd warned Kitty, and she'd 
 got mad, I stopped going down. 
 
 " And soon after, I was taken down sick, and when \ 
 got up again I was as weak as a cat. 
 
THE sharpshooter's STORY. 319 
 
 " The third day after I was up, I thougTit I'd go down 
 to the village just to see what was going on, you know, 
 for I felt wonderful down in spirits somehow. Well, I 
 went down, and when I got there, I couldn't help going 
 by Marm Glegg's, and there sat Kitty in the window, cry- 
 ing as if her heart would break. But as soon as she saw 
 me, she jumped up and ' shot.' Well, doctor, I felt as if 
 something was wrong, and as if I ought to go in and try 
 to find out and set it right. 
 
 "But when I went in, Marm Glegg said that Kitty 
 wouldn't see me, and wanted me to go away. So I went, 
 but I was awfully riled, and I walked back toward camp 
 a gritting my teeth, when, as luck would have it, in a 
 clearin', about five miles from camp, who should overtake 
 me but Piney George. 
 
 " ' Hold on, Salem,' says he, ' I've got a word to say to 
 you.' 
 
 " ' Say it, then,' says I, shortly, for I felt weak and tired, 
 and wanted to get on. 
 
 " ' I'ts just this,' says he : ' You've been up to Marm 
 Glegg's again spying on Kitty and me, and making her 
 hide from you, and I'm going to take that and what's 
 past out of your hide right on the spot.' 
 
 " Says I, ' George, you know what you say's a lie ; you 
 know I'm no spy ; you know I loved Kitty before you 
 did ; and if I went up there to-day 'twas because I felt 
 low-spirited and couldn't help it. But I know what you 
 want : you want to fight me, now I am sick, and weak, 
 and alone out here, where the fellows can't interfere. 
 But I won't fight, that's flat.' 
 
 " ' You won't, you coward !' says he. ' No, you won't 
 now, when I've a chance to win ; but you were all fight 
 when I was new here and didn't know your run, and all 
 the camp against me.' 
 
 " ' That's another -lie, George,' says I. 'But what's the 
 •use of talk ; you can't rile me, and I won't fight.' 
 
 " And I turned and walked on. But doctor — would 
 
320 THE sharpshooter's story. 
 
 you believe it? — the shirking skunk come behind me 
 apd struck me a foul blow that almost knocked me down, 
 and that was too much; and I clinched him. But I was 
 weak and dizzy, and he had me foul, and, doctor, he 
 gouged out my right eye, and thought he'd done for 'em 
 both, and he bit off* my little finger, and, finally, he left 
 me for dead, and cut. 
 
 " I warn't dead, however ; and after lying faint awhile, 
 I managed to crawl along to the edge of the timber, where 
 I lay down under a tree, and fell dead asleep, or into a 
 sort of torpor, as you call it, from loss of blood and tire." 
 
 Salem had got on so slowly that, at this point- of his 
 story, I was obliged to leave him to visit another ward, 
 but a rest did him no harm, and when I came back in a 
 couple of hours, he started afresh without coa:xing. 
 
 " Doctor," said he, looking keenly into my face with 
 his single eye, "doctor, human nature is mighty con- 
 trary, and as to Providence, there's no understanding its 
 ways at all." 
 
 " That is quite a philosophical remark, Salem," said I, 
 gravely, though with a smile spreading inwardly to the 
 verge of laughter ; "in what connection did you make it?" 
 
 " In connection with what I did when I got well, and 
 ^hat Providence has done since, doctor. Now, see here. 
 When I woke or come to, after lying down under that 
 tree, I warn't there at all, but snug in my hut at camp. 
 
 " And when I asked how I got there, the boys said 
 two of 'em found me clean gone on the edge of the tim- 
 ber, four days back, and carried me to camp, and that I 
 had been raving wild, and talked all sorts of stuff' until 
 the day before, when I fell asleep, and had only just 
 woke up. 
 
 " I tried to get up then, but soon as I set up my head 
 swam round, and I had to fall back. I was as limber as 
 a wet rag. 
 
 " ' Where's Piney ?' says I, recollecting all of a sudden. 
 
 " ' We hain't seen him this week,' says they. 
 
THE sharpshooter's STORY. 321 
 
 " Then I told 'em how 'twas he gouged me, and all 
 about it, and two of 'em started for the village right off*. 
 But next day they came back. George had left there 
 three days before, and Kitty Glegg had gone with him, 
 and poor old Marm Glegg was at the point of death. 
 
 "Now, doctor, what would you have done if you'd have 
 been me ?" asked Salem, interrupting his tale, and again 
 fixing his eye on mine. 
 
 " Well, Salem," said I, rather puzzled, '' I — I should 
 have taken legal measures to punish the scoundrel George, 
 and I would have assisted Mrs. Glegg, if it had been in 
 my power, both to recover her health and her daughter." 
 
 "Well, now," responded the sharpshooter, "didn't I 
 say human nature was contrary ? That's what you'd 
 have done, and what most folks perhaps would. But I 
 didn't do anything of the sort, you see, doctor. I'U tell 
 you what I did. 
 
 " Just as soon as I got well enough, I shouldered my 
 «raps and went up to the Aroostook, and spent two years 
 learning to draw a bead with my left eye, lumbering all 
 the while. Then I came down to the old place. Marm 
 Glegg was dead, and nobody had heard anything of Kitty 
 or Piney George. 
 
 " Then I worked my way down to York (N'ew York), 
 where the boss that owned the tract I'd been working on 
 lived. He'd been up there that season and I knew him, 
 for I was a foreman that year. Well, he was very kind to 
 me, and through him I got down to Georgia, and spent 
 a year hunting after Piney George and Kitty all through 
 the timber workings, and pretty much all over the State 
 — for I had somehow got it fixed in my head that Piney 
 had 'skedaddled' — that's the rebels' new word for cut 
 and run, doctor" — parenthesized Salem, with a twinkle 
 in the eye — " down to his native pines. 
 
 " But when I'd prospected a whole year after him with- 
 out finding a hair of the critter, or hearing anything of 
 his ever coming back, I thought Providence was against 
 21 
 
322 THE sharpshooter's story. 
 
 the searcli. And as things began to look a little riley 
 down South about that time, I gave it up in despair, and 
 came home to York, where the boss gave me a place in 
 his lumber-yard. 
 
 " But when the darned rebels broke from Uncle Sam, 
 I listed, and was off with the three months fellows. How- 
 ever, I can't saj that I liked the musket drill much, and 
 so I wat^ kind of glad when the time was up. But when' 
 Colonel Berdan came out with his call for sharpshooters, 
 I was on hand, doctor, at the first trial, and I guess I 
 astonished some of 'em with my screw bead." 
 
 Here Salem stopped to indulge in a quiet chuckle. 
 Having concluded this, he went on. 
 
 "Well, doctor, I said the ways of Providence were 
 past seeing through, didn't I? And the rest of my story 
 proves it. 
 
 "In the course of time we did a small sprinkling of 
 sharpshooting as you know, till we came to Yorktown. 
 Well, there we had rather a tough time keeping the rebel 
 guns from being over-crowded, and I guess they warn't 
 cracked by too much use ! I dug myself a snug little 
 shooting hole just alongside of a scrubby bush, and for a 
 day and a night I had a good many of the skedaddlers 
 drop to my account, without my being the least disturbed. 
 But the second morning, just after daybreak, I saw they 
 were going to make another effort to load the gun I'd been 
 'tending to. Presently a slim fellow sneaks out along 
 the gun, and I gets up a little to draw a fair bead on him, 
 when just as I had him between the shoulders — crack 
 goes a rifle nearly in front of me, and a Minie ball — • 
 I knew it by its song — left its compliments in the bush 
 about three inches from my right ear. I dropt the slim 
 chap, however, and took a quick look as I dropt myself, 
 by which I saw a third spirt of smoke just leaving a 
 small clump about three hundred yards to the left front 
 of my stand. Ho! thinks I, there's a skedaddle rifle 
 
THE sharpshooter's STORY. 323 
 
 posted himself there last night; I'll attend to you, my 
 son, by-and-by." 
 
 My time was now growing very short, and Salem must 
 have remarked a slight symptom of impatience which I 
 could not avoid showing, because I was quite interested 
 in his tale, and feared I would Lave to go, leaving it un- 
 finished till next morning, for he halted a moment and 
 •then said — • 
 
 " Well, doctor, there's no use of my telling you all the 
 
 I dodges that skedaddle and I tried on each other all day. 
 
 ! I had hard work, for I had to mind him and the gun too. 
 
 However, I got along pretty comfortable, and had five 
 
 mean shots at him, but only touched him once — and 
 
 didn't know it at tbe time — he was so precious careful. 
 
 I "He fired away at me, though, about every twenty 
 
 ' minutes, lead or no lead, as I guessed, until nigh on to 
 
 I evening. Just before sundown — or rather just after tha 
 
 ( sun had set, but when there was still a good light — I got 
 
 ( so eternal cramped that I w^as bound to stretch a little. 
 
 ' And as the rebel just then showed his muzzle alongside 
 
 i of his confounded gun, I rose a little higher than usual 
 
 [ to get a clear sight — got it, and would have pulled trigger 
 
 [ in another shake, when crack !' w^nt skedaddle's rifle 
 
 \ again, and crick ! went his d — d ball into my shoulder. 
 
 I " It hurt so, doctor, that I couldn't help giying a kind 
 
 » of screech, and at the same moment, quick as lightning, 
 
 an idea came across me, and I sort of leaped up and fell 
 
 back into my pit. 
 
 " But, bad as I was, I immediately crawled up again, 
 and just peeked over. Sure enough, the fellow had bit, 
 and was sneaking out of his hole, to come the Indian over 
 me, and my plunder. I tell you, doctor, it hurt me awful 
 to get my rifle up, and to fix myself for a last shot ; but 
 I did it, and did it in a shake of time, too, so that the 
 fellow hadn't fairly started to snake "over to me before I 
 had him. 
 
 " It was my crack this time, and when I looked over 
 
324 THE SHARPSHOOTEil'S STORY. 
 
 again, the skedaddler was as flat as a leaf, just on the 
 edge of his hole. It didn't all take two minutes, doctor, 
 I swear ! 
 
 "But I cavorted myself right afterward, and lay for 
 an hour or more like a log before I came too. 
 
 " When I did, I took a heavy swig of my canteen, and 
 felt so much stronger that I resolved to crawl over and 
 have a look at the skedaddler. It was full night now, 
 but not very dark. Dark enough, however, to make my 
 going over of small risk. 
 
 " So I took another swig, and started on my hands and 
 knees. 
 
 " Twice I had to stop and lie flat for a few minutes, 
 but — doctor, you'll hardly believe it — but I felt kind of 
 forced, as it were, to go and look at the fellow, and as if 
 something was to come of my looking at him." 
 
 " A presentiment, perhaps, Salem," said I, half in jest. 
 
 ''Maybe," answered Salem, as if he did not exactly 
 know what a presentiment might be. "But, any how, 
 doctor, I felt as' if I must go, and I went, and I looked at 
 him, and he was stark dead ; and, doctor," added Salem, 
 with a strange glitter in his one eye — "doctor, as sure as 
 you live, the fellow was Piney George!" 
 
 Here I was obliged to leave Salem, for the night, though 
 he said he had something more to tell me, which, I sur- 
 mised, must be about Kitty Glegg. However, I should 
 see him, and did see him in the morning. 
 • When I came to him, a young female nurse was dress- 
 ing his wound. I waited till she had finished, and then, 
 bidding her to leave us, sat down to hear the sequel of 
 the sharpshooter's story. 
 
 "Doctor," began Salem, "you remember what I said 
 about Providence and human nature, don't you ?" 
 
 " Certainly," I replied. 
 
 " Well, after I'd looked at George for a minute or two, 
 all my hate went off) somehow, and I'd have given — I 
 don't know what, to have had him alive again. But of a 
 
THE sharpshooter's STORY. 325 
 
 sudden I thought of Kitty, and I thought he might have 
 something, about him thai would tell me of her. So, as 
 I lay by his side, I felt in his pockets, and, sure enough, 
 I found a letter. I couldn't read it then, of course ; but 
 next morning, when I was carried to the hospital, I read 
 it, and it was from Kitty, and she was on her way to 
 Yorktown, when it was written, which was some days 
 before, so that she was probably there then. She had 
 oflfered herself as a nurse to tend the wounded rebels, and 
 had been accepted — but, from some words in the letter, 
 I judged her heart was with the right cause. 
 
 "Well, doctor, isn't this mighty strange? And the 
 strangest thing I haven't told you yet, perhaps. 
 
 " When the rebels evacuated Yorktown, they left a few 
 of their wounded at a small house about half a mile be- 
 yond, off the road, and a nurse insisted on staying with 
 them — and that nurse, doctor, was Kitty ! 
 
 " And, doctor," continued Salem, quite excitedly, " that 
 nurse volunteered to enter our hospital in the same bles- 
 sed work, and she did so, and fifteen minutes ago, doctor, 
 she was dressing this very shoulder !" 
 
 "What!" exclaimed I, fairly taken aback by this cli- 
 max, " was that Kitty Glegg ? and do you still love her, 
 Salem?" 
 
 The gleam died out of Salem's eye, and he shook his 
 head mournfully, as he replied — 
 
 "I don't know exactly how I do feel about it, doctor. 
 If she was Kitty Glegg now, I'd marry her in spite of 
 -thunder, if she'd have me ; but I said human nature was 
 contrary, and — and she ain't Kitty Glegg, you see !" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" said I, quite mystified ; " Kitty 
 Glegg, and not Kitty Glegg ! Who in the name of witch- 
 craft is the young woman, then ?" 
 
 " The young woman is Kitty Schriver, the widow of 
 George Schriver, or Piney George !" answered poor Salem, 
 very slowly and sadly. 
 
326 THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 
 
 Then, after a moment's silence, looking up again, lie 
 said — * 
 
 " Well, doctor, was I not right about Providence and 
 human nature?" 
 
 THE PEOSE OP BATTLES. 
 
 " I would like to see a battle," said a student to me the 
 other day, " for through the whole literature of war I look 
 in vain for a minute description of any action." 
 
 We may trace this deficiency to the disparity between 
 the writers and the readers of war literature. Those who 
 witness and record are military men, either by profession 
 or education ; their accounts lack circumstantiality, and 
 often simplicity. They assume that the reader has certain 
 elementary knowledge of terms and movements, and their 
 narratives seem, therefore, vague, general, and unsatisfac- 
 tory. It will not avail to tell Mr. Coke, of Northumber- 
 land, that the "fourth division outflanked the enemy," 
 for Mr. Coke, having passed the most of his life under- 
 ground, never beheld even a militia training. A division, 
 to his mind, may include twenty men or twenty thousand 
 men, and to outflank may intimate to ambush or to run 
 away. 
 
 Mr. Phlog, the schoolmaster, reads in the newspapers 
 that a certain regiment marched up in double-quick, or 
 threw itself into a hollow square, or formed a pyramid to 
 repulse cavalry, or rallied by fours, or deployed as skir- 
 mishers, or charged bayonets. But Mr. Phlog, though 
 an intelligent person, would like to be told in detail how 
 the regiment deployed, and how the pyramid appeared. 
 He has been to but one funeral in the course of his life, 
 and never saw a murder or a hanging. He wishes, in 
 common with the urchins whom he birches, to know 
 more of the real and the horrible — how a man falls out 
 of the ranks, what hues harden into his dead face, how 
 
THE PROSE OF KATTLES. 321 
 
 he lies among the tangled wretches on the battle-field, 
 how and bj whom he is buried. In fact, he wishes da- 
 guerreotypes of war. When the powder has flashed out 
 of the sky, and the tableaux have fallen away, tell him 
 how the strewn plains would have looked to him had he 
 been there — give him, in a word, the " prose of battles." 
 
 The writer has followed some of the bloodiest cam- 
 paigns of the American civil war in a civil capacity; he 
 has witnessed the incidents of charge, retreat, captivity, 
 and massacre through the eyes of a novice, and some of 
 his reminiscences may not be uninteresting to the less 
 experienced. 
 
 The " first death" which I recall among my most vivid 
 remembrances happened on the Chickahominy Eiver, 
 during McClellan's famous peninsular campaign. The 
 Federal army lay along the high hills on the north side 
 of the stream, and the Confederates upon the hills of the 
 other side. The pickets of the latter reached almost to 
 the brink, and the Federals were busily engaged in erect- 
 ing bridges at various points. I was standing at New 
 Bridge one day, watching the operations of the soldiery, 
 when General Z. rode down through the meadow to ex- 
 amine the work. A. guard held the Eichmond bank of 
 the creek, access being obtained to them by a series of 
 rafts or buoys ; but the guard could go only a little way 
 from the margin, for some sharpshooters lay behind a 
 knoll, and had, up to this time, mortally wounded every 
 adventurer. The general reined his horse on the safe 
 side of the river, and called briefly " Major !" 
 
 A young flaxen-haired, florid man. with a gold leaf in 
 his shoulder-bar, stepped out, saluted, and paid respectful 
 attention. 
 
 '' General ?" 
 
 "Is that your picket?" pointing to the group on the 
 opposite bank. 
 
 "Yes, general." 
 
 " No more men beyond the knoll and bush ?" 
 
328 THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 
 
 "No, general; it is dangerous. The enemy is there 
 in force." 
 
 " Do you know their force ?" 
 
 "Ko, general." 
 
 ^' Call one of your men.". 
 
 "Parks!" 
 
 A little bullet-headed fellow, whose legs were muddy 
 to the thighs, and who was driving^a round log to its 
 place in the roadway, dropped his mallet at once ; swung 
 smartly round, as on a pivot, and saluted. 
 
 " Go cautiously up the bank," said the general, " you 
 see it there ; draw fire if you can ; but if there be no 
 response, you will shout to provoke it." 
 
 I saAV the knot in the soldier's throat rise slowly, as if 
 propelled by his heart ; a little quiver came to his lips, 
 and he looked half inquiringly to his major. In a mo- 
 ment he recovered, tapped his cap lightly, and leaping 
 from buoy to buoy, reached the guard-post, ran up the 
 hill, passed the knoll, and stood with his head and shoul- 
 ders in full view, but his extremities and trunk behind 
 the ridge. We all watched solicitously and in dead 
 silence. 
 
 "Shout! my man," cried the general — "shout! shout 1" 
 
 The hands of the soldier went up ; he swung his cap, 
 and called shrilly : " Hurrah for General McClellan and 
 theU' 
 
 A volley of musketry blazed from the timber beyond, 
 and the man flung up his arms and disappeared. With 
 a yell of revenge, the guard broke from the margin, dis- 
 charged their muskets into the ambuscade, and directly 
 returned, bearing the little fellow with the bullet-head ; 
 but the mud on his trousers was turning red, aijd blood 
 dripped in a rill from his mouth and chin. The young 
 major's florid face grew pale, he shut his lips tightly; 
 and the soldiers, a little apart, swore through their teethe 
 
 " I am sorry he got his billet," said the general ; " but 
 he died fulfilling orders, and he was a brave man." 
 
THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 329 
 
 I wondered as* lie rode away, attended by his dashing 
 staff; if any more such brave men had died, or were to 
 die, fulfilling such orders. 
 
 A dreadful opportunity occurred, after the battle of 
 Hanover Court House, to look upon wholesale massacre. 
 The wounded of both sides had been hauled from the dis- 
 tant field to the encampments of the army, and wero 
 quartered in and around some old Virginian dwellings. 
 All the cow-houses, wagon-sheds, hay-barracks, hen-coops, 
 negro cabins, and barns had been turned into hospitals. 
 The floors were littered with corn-shucks and fodder, and 
 the maimed, gashed, and dying lay confusedly together. 
 A few, slightly wounded, related incidents of the battle 
 through the windows ; but sentries stood at the doors 
 with crossed muskets, to keep out idlers and gossips. 
 The mention of my vocation was an open sesame, and I 
 went unrestrained into all the larger hospitals. In the 
 first of these, an amputation was being performed, and at 
 the door lay a little heap of human limbs. I shall not 
 soon forget the bare-armed surgeons, with bloody instru- 
 ments, who leaned over -the rigid and insensible figure, 
 while the comrades of the subject looked on horror-struck 
 at the scene. The grating of the murderous saw drove 
 me into the open air, but in the second hospital which I 
 visited, a wounded man had just expired, and I encount- 
 ered his body at the threshold. The lanterns hanging 
 around the room within streamed fitfully upon the red 
 eyes and half- naked figures. All were looking up, and 
 saying in a pleading monotone: "Is that you, doctor?" 
 Men, with their arms in slings, went restlessly up and 
 down, smarting with fever. Those who were wounded 
 in the lower extremities, body, or head, lay upon their 
 backs, tossing even in sleep. They listened peevishly to 
 the wind whistling through the chinks of the barn ; they 
 followed one with their rolling eyes ; they turned away 
 from the lantern glare, which seemed to sear them. 
 
 Soldiers sat by the severely wounded, laving their sores 
 
330 THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 
 
 witli water. In many wounds the balls still remained, 
 and the flesli was swollen and discolored. There were 
 some who had been shot in the bowels, and now and 
 then thes'e poor fellows were frightfally convulsed, break- 
 ing into shrieks and shouts, some of them iterated a single 
 word, as "Doctor!" or "Help!" or "God!" or "Oh!" 
 commencing with a loud, spasmodic cry, and continuing 
 the same word till it died away in sighs. The act of call- 
 ing seemed to lull the pain. Many Avere unconscious or 
 lethargic, -moving their fingers and lips mechanically, 
 but never more to open their eyes upon the light — they 
 were already going through the valley of the shadow. I 
 think still, with a shudder, of the faces of those who were 
 told mercifully that they could not live — the unutterable 
 agony ; the plea for somebody on whom to call ; the long- 
 ing eyes that poured out prayers ; the looking on mortal 
 as if its resources were infinite ; the fearful looking to 
 the immortal, as if it were so far ofi* so implacable, that 
 the dying appeal would be in vain ; the open lips through 
 which one could almost look at the quaking heart below ; 
 the ghastliness of brow, and tangled hair; the closing 
 pangs — the awful rest at last ! I thought of Parrhasius 
 in the poem, as I looked at these things : — / 
 
 "Godsl 
 Could I but paint a dying groan !" 
 
 And how the keen eye of "West would have turned from 
 the reeking cockpit of the Victory, or the tomb of the 
 dead man restored, to this old barn peopled with horrors. 
 I rambled in and out, learning to look at death, studying 
 the manifestations of pain, quivering and sickening at 
 times, but plying my vocation, and jotting names for my 
 column of mortalities. 
 
 At eleven o'clock there was music along the highroad, 
 and a general rushing out of camp ensued. The victo- 
 rious regiments were returning from Hanover, under es- 
 cort, and all the bands were pealing national airs. As 
 
THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 831 
 
 they turned down the fields toward their old encamp- 
 ments, several brigades stood nnder arms to welcome 
 them, and the cheers were many and vigorous. But the 
 solemn ambulances still followed after, and the red flag 
 of the hospitals flaunted bloodily in the blue midnight. 
 
 Between mxidnight and morning the wounded were re- 
 moved to White House, on the Eiver Pamunkey, where 
 they were forwarded by steamers to northern cities. I 
 rode down with my dispatches in an ambulance that con- 
 tained six wounded men besides. Ambulances, it may 
 be said incidentally, are either two-wheeled or four- 
 wheeled. Two- wheeled ambulances are commonly callea 
 ''hop, step, and jumps." They are so constructed that 
 the forepart lies either very high or very low, and may 
 be both at intervals. The wounded occupants may thus 
 be compelled to ride for hours with their heels elevated 
 above their heads, and may finally be shaken out, or 
 have their bones broken by the terrible jolting. The 
 four-wheeled ambulances are built in shelves or compart- 
 ments, but the wounded are in danger of suffocation in 
 them. 
 
 It was in one of the latter that I rode, sitting with the 
 driver. We had four horses, but were thrice " swamped" 
 on the road, and had once to take out the wounded men 
 till we could start the wheels. Two of these were wounded 
 in the face, one of them having an ear severed, and the 
 other having a fragment of his jaw knocked out. A third 
 had received a ball among the thews and muscles behind 
 his knee, and his whole body seemed to be paralyzed. 
 Two were wounded in the shoulders, and a sixth was 
 shot in the breast. The last was believed to be injured 
 internally, as he spat blood, and suffered almost the pangs 
 of death. The ride with these men, over twenty miles 
 of hilly, woody country, was like Dante's excursion into 
 the Shades. In the awful stillness of the dark pines, their 
 screams frightened the hooting owls, and put to silence 
 the whirring insects in the leaves and tree-tops. They 
 
3j2 the prose op battles. 
 
 heard the gurgle of the rills, and called aloud for water 
 to quench their insatiate thirst. One of them sang a 
 shrill fiendish ballad, in an interval of relief, but plunged 
 on a sudden relapse into prayers and curses. We heard 
 them groaning to themselves as we sat in front, and one 
 man, it seemed, was quite out ot his mind. These were 
 the outward manifestations ; but what cords trembled 
 and smarted within, what regrets for good resolves unful- 
 filled, and remorses for years misspent, made hideous those 
 sore and panting hearts ? The moonlight pierced through 
 the thick foliage of the wood, and streamed into our faces, 
 like invitations to a better life. But the crippled and 
 bleeding could not see or feel it, buried in the shelves 
 of the ambulance. 
 
 During the heat of action at Gaines' Mill I crossed 
 Grape Vine Bridge, and remarked incidents scarcely less 
 terrible. At every step of my progress I met wounded 
 persons. A horseman rode past me, leaning over the 
 pommel of his saddle, with blood streaming from his 
 mouth, and hanging in gouts fr^m his saturated beard. 
 The day had been intensely hot, and black boys were 
 besetting the wounded with buckets of cool lemonade. 
 It was a common occurrence for the couples that carried 
 the wounded in "stretchers" to stop on the way, pur- 
 chase a glass of the beverage, and drink it with gory 
 hands. Sometimes the blankets on the stretchers were 
 closely folded, and then I knew that the man was dead. 
 A little fellow who used his sword for a cane stopped 
 me on the road and said : " See yer ! This is the ball 
 that just fell out o' my leg." 
 
 He handed me a lump of lead as big as my thumb, and 
 pointed to a rent in his pantaloons, whence the drops 
 rolled down his boots. 
 
 " I wouldn't part with that for suthin' handsome," he 
 said : "it will be nice to hev to hum." 
 
 As I cantered away he shouted after me : " Be sure 
 
THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 333 
 
 you spell my name right! It's Smith with an e — 
 Ssm-i-t-h-e." 
 
 In one place I met five drunken men escorting a 
 wounded sergeant. This man had been shot in the jaw, 
 and when he attempted to speak, the blood choked his 
 gesticulation. 
 
 "You le' go, pardner!" said one of the staggering 
 brutes — " he's not your sergeant. Gro 'way." 
 
 " Now, sergeant !" said the other idiotically ; " I'll see 
 you all right, sergeant ! Come, Bill ! fetch him over to 
 the corn-crib, and we'll give him a drink." 
 
 Here the first speaker struck the second, and the ser- 
 geant in wrath knocked them both down. At this time 
 the enemy's cannon were booming close at hand. 
 
 I came to an of&cer of rank, whose shoulder emblem I 
 could not distinguish, riding upon a limping field-horse. 
 Four men held him to his seat, and a fifth led the animal. 
 The officer was evidently wounded, though he did not 
 seem to be bleeding, and the dust of battle had settled 
 upon his blanched, stifie'ning face like grave-mould upon 
 a corpse. He was swaying in the saddle, and his hair — ■ 
 for he was bareheaded — shook across his eyeballs. He 
 reminded me of the famous Cid, whose body was sent 
 forth to scare the Saracens. A mile or more from Grape 
 Yine Bridge, on a hill top, lay a frame farm-house, with 
 cherry-trees encircling it, and along the declivity were 
 some cabins and corn-bins. The house was now a sur- 
 geon's head-quarters, and the wounded lay in the yard 
 and lane, under the shade, waiting their turns to be 
 hacked and maimed. Some curious people were peeping 
 through the windows at the operations. As processions 
 of freshly wounded went by, the poor fellows, lying on 
 their backs, looked mutely at me, and their great eyes 
 smote my heart. 
 
 After the carnage of Fair Oaks, I visited the field, and 
 by the courtesy of the Irish American, General Meagher, 
 was shown the relics of the battle. This engagement, it 
 
334 THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 
 
 Will be remembered, occurred in what is called tbe 
 Cbickahominy Swamp, and it was fouglit, mainly, in 
 some thickets and fields, along the York River Railroad. 
 I visited first a cottage and some barns beside the track. 
 The house was occupied by some thirty wounded 
 Federals; they lay in their blankets upon the floors — 
 pale, helpless, hollow-eyed — making low moans at every 
 breath. Two or three were feverishly sleeping, and as 
 the flies revelled upon their gashes, they stirred uneasily, 
 and moved their hands to and fro. By the flatness of the 
 covering over the extremities, I could see that several 
 had only stumps of legs. They had lost the sweet enjoy- 
 ment of walking afield, and were but fragments of men, 
 to limp forever through a painful life. Such wrecks of 
 power I never beheld. Broad, brawny, buoyant, a few 
 hours ago, the nervous shock and the loss of blood attend- 
 ant upon amputation had well nigh drained them to the 
 last drop. Their faces were as white as the tidy ceiling ; 
 they were whining like babe's ; and only their rolling eyes 
 distinguished them from mutilated corpses. 
 
 Some seemed quite broken in spirit; and one who 
 would speak, observing my pitiful glances towards his 
 severed thigh, drew up his mouth and chin, and wept, as 
 if, with the loss of comeliness, all his ambitions were frus- 
 trated. A few attendants were brushing off the insects 
 with boughs of cedar, laving the sores, or administering 
 cooling draughts. The second story of the dwelling was 
 likewise occupied by the wounded ; but in a corner 
 clustered the terrified farmer and his family, vainly at- 
 tempting to turn their eyes from the horrible spectacle. 
 The farmer's wife had a baby at her breast, and its little 
 blue eyes were straying over the room, half wonderingly, 
 half delightedly. I thought with a shudder of babyhood 
 thus surrounded, and how, in the long future, its first 
 recollections of existence should be of booming guns and 
 dying soldiers. 
 
 The cow-shed contained seven corpses, scarcely yet 
 
THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 335 
 
 cold, lying upon their backs in a row, and fast losing all 
 resemblance to man. The furthest removed seemed to 
 be a diminutive boj^ ; and I thought, if he had a mother, 
 that she might some time like to speak with me. Beyond 
 my record of the names of these, falsely spelled, perhaps, 
 they would have no history. And people call such deaths 
 glorious ! Upon a pile of lumber and some heaps of 
 fence rails close by, sat some dozens of wounded men, 
 mainly Federals, with bandaged arms and faces, and, torn 
 clothing. There was one, shot in the foot, who howled 
 at every effort to remove his boot ; the blood leaked from 
 a rent in the side, and at last the leather was cut piece- 
 meal from the flesh. They ate voraciously, though in 
 pain and fear, for a little soup and meat were being doled 
 out to them. 
 
 The most touching of all these scenes was presented 
 in the stable or barn on the premises, where a bare, dingy 
 floor — the planks of which tilted and shook as one made 
 his way over them — was strewn with suffering people. 
 Just at the entrance sat a boy, totally blind, both eyes 
 having been torn out by a Minie ball. He crouched 
 against the gable in darkness and agony, tremulously 
 fingering his knees. Near at hand sat another, who had 
 been shot through the middle of the forehead, but, singu- 
 lar to relate, he still lived, though lunatic, and evidently 
 beyond hope. Death had drawn blue and yellow circles 
 beneath his eyes, and he incomprehensibly wagged his 
 head. Two men, perfectly naked, lay in the middle of 
 the place, wounded in bowels and loins ; and at a niche 
 in the weather-boarding, where some pale light peeped 
 in, four mutilated wretches were gaming with cards. 
 
 I was now led a little way down the railway to see the 
 Confederates. The rain began to fall at; this time, and 
 the poor fellows shut their eyes to avoid the pelting of 
 the drops. There was no shelter for them within a mile, 
 and the mud absolutely reached half-way up their bodies. 
 Nearly one-third had suffered amputation above the knee. 
 
336 THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 
 
 There were about thirty at this spot ; but owing to the 
 destruction of the Chickahominy bridges, by reason of a 
 freshet, they could not at present be removed to White 
 House. Some of them were fine, athletic, vigorous fel- 
 lows, and attention was .called to one who had been mar- 
 ried only three days before. 
 
 " Doctor," said one feebly, " I feel very cold. Do you 
 think that this is death ? It seems to be creeping to my 
 heart. I have no feeling in my feet, and my thighs are 
 benumbed." 
 
 A Federal soldier came along with a bucket of soup, 
 and proceeded to fill the canteens and plates. He ap- 
 peared to be a relative of Mark Tapley, and possessed 
 much of that estimable person's jollity. 
 
 "Come, pardner," he said, "drink up yer soup. Now, 
 old boy, this '11 warm ye ; sock it down, and ye'll soon 
 see yer sweetheart. You dead, Allybamy? Go way, 
 now ! You'll live a hundred years— you will, that's what 
 yer '11 do. Won't he, lad? What! Kot any? Get 
 out ! You'll be slap on yer legs next week, and hev an- 
 other shot at me the week ar'ter that. You with the 
 butternut trousers ! .Sa-ay ! Wake up, and take some 
 o' this. Hillo, lad ! pardner, wake up !" 
 
 He stirred him gently with his foot ; he bent down to 
 touch his face — a grimness came over his merriment ; the 
 man was stiff* and dumb. 
 
 Colonel Baker, of the 88th New York, a tall, martial 
 Irishman, took me into the woods where some of the slain 
 still remained. We had proceeded but a very little way, 
 when we came up to a trodden place beneath the pines, 
 where a scalp lay in the leaves, and the imprint of a 
 body was plainly visible. The. bayonet scabbard lay on 
 one side, the canteen at the other. We saw no corpses, 
 however, as fatigue-parties had been interring the slain, 
 and the woods were dotted with heaps of clay, where the 
 dead slept below in the oozy trenches. Quantities of 
 cartridges were scattered here and there, dropped by tho 
 
THE PROSE OP BATTLES. 33 Y 
 
 retreating Confederates. Some of the cartridge-poucben 
 that I examined were completely filled, showing that the 
 possessors had not fired a single round ; ol;hers had but 
 one cartridge missing. There were fragments of clothing 
 hair, blankets, murderous bowie and dirk knives, spurs, 
 flasks, caps, and plumes, dropped all the way through the 
 thicket, and the trees on every side were riddled with 
 balls. 
 
 I came upon a squirrel, unwittingly shot during the 
 
 : fight ; not only those who make the war must feel the 
 
 I war ! At one of th^ mounds the burying party had just 
 
 completed their work, and the men w^ere throwing the 
 
 < last clods upon the remains. They had dug pits of not 
 
 more than two feet in depth, and dragged the bodies 
 
 ; heedlessly to the edges, whence they were toppled down, 
 
 ' and scantily covered with earth. Much of the interring 
 
 I had been done by night, and the flare of lanterns upon 
 
 I the discolored faces and dead eyes must have been hide- 
 
 ( ously effective. The grave-diggers, however, were prac- 
 
 . tical personages,. and had probably little care for dramatic 
 
 i effects. They leaned upon their spades when the rites were 
 
 I finished, and a large, repulsive looking person, who ap- 
 
 I peared to be privileged on all occasions, said, grinningly : 
 
 \ " Colonel, your honor, them boys '11 never stand forninst 
 
 the Irish brigade again. If they'd ha' known it was us, 
 
 sir, begorra ! they'd ha' brought coffins wid 'em." 
 
 " No, nivir ! They got their ticket for soup I We 
 ! kivered thim, fait, will inough !" shouted the other grave- 
 I diggers. 
 
 I " Do ye belave, colonel," said the first speaker again, 
 I "that thim ribals '11 lave us a chance to catch them? 
 I Be me sowl ! I'm jist wishing to war-rum me hands wid 
 : rifle-practice." 
 
 The memorable retreat from the Chickahominy to the 
 
 James, whereby McClellan saved the relic of his distressed 
 
 and beaten army, was a series of horrors, which the limits 
 
 of this article will not allow me to recapitulate. A sketch 
 
 22 
 
338, THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 
 
 of the opening of the battle of White Oak will answer 
 for the present. On the night of the 29th of June, 1862^. 
 I went to sleep on the brow of one of the hills forming 
 the south bank of White Oak Creek. The Federal army 
 liacl crossed over during the night, and the bridge and 
 causeway through the swamp had been destroyed behmd 
 them. A crash and a stunning shock, as of a falling 
 sphere, aroused me at nine o'clock — a shell had burst in 
 front of my tent, and the Confederate artillery was thun- 
 dering from Casey's old hill beyond the swamp. As I 
 hastily drew on my boots, for I had not otherwise un- 
 dressed, I had opportunity to remark one of those unac- 
 countable panics which develop among civilian soldiers. 
 
 The camps were plunged into disorder. As the shells 
 dropped here and there among the tents and teams, the 
 wildest and most fearful deeds were enacted. Here, a 
 caisson blew up, tearing the horses to pieces, and whirl- 
 ing a cannonier among the clouds ; there an ammunition 
 wagon exploded, and the air seemed to be full of frag- 
 ments of wood, iron, and flesh. A boy stood at one of 
 the fires combing out 'his matted hair; suddenly, his 
 head flew ofij spattering the brains ; and the shell, which 
 I could not see, exploded in a piece of wood, mutilating 
 the trees. The effect upon the people around me was 
 instantaneous and appalling. Some that were partially 
 dressed took to their heels, hugging a medley of clothing. 
 The teamsters climbed into the saddles, and shouted to 
 their nags, whipping them the while. If the heavy 
 wheels hesitated to revolve, they left vehicles and horses 
 to their fates, cut traces and harness, galloping away like 
 madmen. In a twinkling, our camps were alive with 
 fugitives, pushing, swearing, falling and tumbling, while 
 the fierce bolts fell monotonously among them, making 
 havoc at every rod. 
 
 To join this flying, dying mass, was my first impulse ; 
 but after thought reminded me that it would be better 
 to remain. I must not leave my horse, for I could not 
 
THE PROSE OF BATTLES. 339 
 
 walk the whole long way to the James, and the swamp 
 fever had so reduced me, that I hardly cared to keep the 
 little life remaining. I almost marvelled at my coolness, 
 since, in the fulness of strength and health, I might have 
 been the first of the fugitives ; whereas, I now looked 
 interestingly upon the exciting spectacle, and wished that 
 it could be daguerreotyped. Before our artillery could 
 be brought to play, the enemy, emboldened by success, 
 pushed a column of infantry clown the hill, to cross the 
 creek, and engage us on our camping ground. For a 
 time, I believed that he would be successful ; and in that 
 event, confusion and ruin would have overtaken the 
 Unionists. The gray and butternut lines appeared over 
 the brow of the hill ; wound at double quick through the 
 narrow defile ; they poured a volley into our camps when 
 half-way down, and under cover of the smoke, they dashed 
 forward impetuously with a loud huzza. The artillery 
 beyond them kept up a steady fire, raining shell, grape 
 and canister over their heads, and ploughing the ground 
 on our side into zigzag furrows, rending the trees, shat- 
 tering the ambulances, tearing the tents to tatters, slay- 
 ing the horses, butchering the men. Directly, a captain 
 named Mott brought his battery to bear, but before he 
 could open fire, a solid shot struck one of his twelve- 
 pounders, breaking the trunnions and splintering the 
 wheels. In like manner one of his caissons blew up, and 
 I do not think that he was able to make any practice 
 whatever. A division of infantry was now marched for- 
 ward to engage the Confederates at the creek-side, but 
 two of the regiments turned bodily and could not be 
 rallied. 
 
 The moment was full of significance, and I beheld these 
 failures with breathless suspense. In five minutes the 
 pursuers would gain the creek, and in ten drive our 
 dismayed battalions like chaff before the wind. 
 
 I hurried to my horse, that I might be ready to escape ; 
 the shell and ball still made music around me. I buckled 
 
340 A THRILLING SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 
 
 up my saddle witli tremulous fingers, and put my foot 
 upon the stirrup. But a cheer recalled me, and a great 
 clapping of hands, as at som^ clever performance at the 
 amphitheatre. I looked again. A batterj^ had opened 
 from our position across the road upon the Confederate 
 infantry, as they reached the very brink of the swamp. 
 For a moment, the bayonets tossed wildly, the immense 
 column staggered like a drunken man, the flags rose and 
 fell, and then the line moved back disorderly ; the pass 
 had been defended. 
 
 A THEILLING SOEITE IE TENNESSEE. 
 
 The following account of an uprising of Union men in 
 East Tennessee is taken from a rebel source, and will be 
 read with thrilling interest. 
 
 The facts connected with the burning of the Lick Creek 
 Bridge, says the Knoxville (rebel) Eegister of February 
 8, 1862, as they appeared in the testimony elicited by the 
 Court-martial, have come into our possession from an 
 authentic source, and are as follows : — 
 
 A man by the name of David Fry, in connection with 
 "William B. Carter, both citizens of East Tennessee, but 
 who had lately deserted the land of their birth, fled to 
 Kentucky, and connected themselves with the enemies of 
 their country, returned to East Tennessee after the repulse 
 of General Zollicoffer's command at Eockcastle Hill, for 
 the purpose of inciting a conspiracy with the traitors on 
 this side, which would result in the entire destruction of 
 the railroad facilities here, and then break up and entirely 
 cut off communication between Virginia and the remain- 
 ing States of the Confederacy, prevent the transportation 
 of troops, provisions, and munitions of war, and thus open 
 the way for the successful invasion of our State. These 
 two men, as is supposed, came first into the county of 
 Anderson, and then, concealed at the house of a Union 
 
,y A TH PI LUNG SCENE IN EAST TENNESSEE '' 
 QQLONEL FRY AND THE UNION MEN SWEARING RY THE FLAG 
 
A THRILLING SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 341 
 
 man, sent, as one of tlie witnesses heard, for "William 
 Pickens, of Sevier, who made the attempt upon Straw- 
 berry Plains Bridge, but who, with his gang of fifteen 
 men, was repulsed by Keelaa single-handed and alone, 
 Pickens himself falling seriously wounded. 
 
 It is known that Fry and Carter passed on into Roane 
 County, and parted at Kingston. At this point we lose 
 sight of Carter, as no evidence has yet appeared of his 
 whereabouts after that time. Fry, however, pi'oceeded 
 on his journey up the countrj^, passing through Loudon 
 (no doubt making every arrangement for the destruction 
 of that bridge), then passing through Blount County, 
 and finally reaching Greene County two days before the 
 burning of Lick Creek Bridge. 
 
 Travelling, as he did, at nights, and lying by in day- 
 light, stealthily and treacherously creeping from on? 
 traitor's house to another, his movements could not be 
 traced until he arrived, on the night of Wednesday, the 
 6th of Kovember, at the house of Anderson Walker, in 
 Greene County. Here he remained until the night of 
 Thursday, the 7th, when he proceeded to Martin Walker's, 
 arriving about eight o'clock at night. At* Martin 
 Walker's he met his wife, and remained until two o'clock 
 i in the morning of the 8th, stating to Walker that he was 
 ! on his way to Kentucky, but wanted to see a friend near 
 Midway (Lick Creek Bridge), and asking if Jacob Har- 
 mon was as good a Union man as ever. As appeared 
 from the testimony, Fry made no revelations to Walker 
 of his plans ; but starting, as he did, at two o'clock, and 
 not being familiar with the roads. Walker piloted him 
 about three miles in the direction of Midway. 
 ' After leaving Walker, Fry stopped at the house of 
 Daniel Smith, a noted Union man, living five or six miles 
 from the bridge, arriving there about one hour before 
 daylight. Immediately Fry laid his plans before Smith, 
 who agreed to act as a messenger from Fry to Jacob Har- 
 mon to communicate to Harmon that he (Fry) was at 
 
342 A THRILLING SCENE IN TENNESSEE. 
 
 Smitli's house ; that he had come to destroy the railroad, 
 and that he wanted to see Harmon at Smith's house that 
 morning. This message was communicated by Smith to 
 Jacob Harmon about eight o'clock on the morning of the 
 8th of ISTovember ; and accordingly Harmon, who was a 
 leading Union spirit in the neighborhood, repaired to 
 Smith's house, where the plans were unfolded, and the 
 plot and programme agreed upon, Harmon was to go 
 home, circulate the fact throughout the neighborhood, and 
 gather the Unionists, assembling them at his house on 
 that night, while Fry would remain at Smith's until 
 nightfall, and then repair to Harmon's house to consum- 
 mate the conspiracy. 
 
 Harmon did his share of the work well, for as early as 
 nine o'clock at night between thirty and forty conspi- 
 rators had met at his house, ready to be led by their 
 chief on his arrival, and eager for the destruction of the 
 property. At that hour Fry alighted from his horse and 
 bounded into the yard, exclaiming: "Friends, I am 
 Colonel Fry, and am come to share with you." The 
 party immediately assembled in the house, when Fry 
 commenced haranguing the crowd by revealing his plans, 
 and urging them on to deeds of violence, until the crowd 
 were almost unanimous in their expressions of approba- 
 tion, and with one accord determined that the bridge 
 should be destroyed — that Fry should be their leader, 
 and that they would follow him, if necessary to death. 
 
 Fry drew forth a United States flag, and spreading it 
 upon a table in the centre of the room, called upon his 
 followers to surround that emblem of the Union, and take 
 with him the oath of allegiance. This was late in the 
 night ; and after the whole plot had been fully under- 
 stood, the conspirators surrounded the table in groups, 
 and, by direction of the leader, placed their left hands 
 upon the folds of the flag, raising aloft their right hands, 
 and swearing to support the Constitution of the United 
 States, to sustain the flag there spread before them, and 
 
THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 343 
 
 to do that night whatever may be impressed upon them 
 "by their chie£ This oath was taken by all, except two 
 or three, in solemn earnest, and in silence ; the darkness 
 Relieved alone by the dim and flickering light of a solitary 
 candle. The scene was impressive — the occasion was full 
 of moment — the hour was 'fit, and everything conspired to 
 fill the hearts of the traitors with a fixed determination. 
 
 Aroused thus to the highest pitch of malice and revenge, 
 the chief of the conspirators immediately led the way to 
 the bridge, and was followed in eager haste by the will- 
 ing crowd. The Confederate guard, consisting of five 
 soldiers, watching the bridge, were immediately sur- 
 rounded by the infuriated mob, and were held in close 
 confinement, while Fry, still leading th.e way and still 
 followed by the boldest of his clan, hastened to the 
 wooden structure, applied the torch, and the whole was 
 consumed and burned to the ground in an hour. 
 
 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY Ul^IONIST. # 
 
 The arrest of the parties mentioned in the sketch 
 headed " Not the right Sanders," which will be found on 
 preceding pages, was for a time the town talk. Gossips 
 discussed it in every conceivable aspect, and Eumor found 
 employment for her hundred tongues. The hotels, the 
 steamers, the railways, the bar-rooms, and even the streets 
 of Cairo, Illinois, were full of it. It penetrated the sanctity 
 of private residences, • and sat down with their inmates 
 around the family hearth. The doctor and captain were 
 soon recogniz-ed, pointed out, and everywhere made the 
 cynosure of wondering eyes. Speculation was busy 
 with their probable fate, and expressions of sympathy or 
 scowling looks of contemptuous indifference greeted them, 
 according to the character and feelings of those whom 
 they saw and met. Mrs. Ford, too, was not forgotten in 
 all this. Pitied and despised in turn, she was thought 
 
344 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 
 
 and spoken of by many ; but, not being visible to the 
 rabble, she was hardly the object of so m^cli interest as 
 her two companions. 
 
 On the evening following the arrest, while the doctor 
 was comfortably ensconced within an arm-chair in the 
 sitting-room of the St. Charles, he was accosted by a fine- 
 looking, elderly gentleman, who introduced himself as 
 Mr. Phillips, of Louisville, Kentucky. For the liberty 
 thus taken he apologized by saying that he had heard 
 him spoken of as a Confederate surgeon under arrest and 
 in trouble, and that if he could be of any assistance to 
 him he would most cheerfully render it. He lived, he 
 said, three miles from Louisville, just outside of the 
 Federal lines, and was there known as a Union man of 
 the straitest sect — so much so that Genei'al Boyle had 
 given him a pass to come into the city and go out at will. 
 He had taken oaths of allegiance — bitter and detestable 
 as they were — out of policy, and for appearance's sake. 
 His heart, however, was with the South, in whose service 
 par|^of his family now were. His son-in-law. Dr. Keller, 
 was chief surgeon on Hindman's staffj and his own son 
 held a posit ioji in the rebel army. He owned a planta- 
 tion in Mississippi, which had formerly been well stocked 
 with negroes. He had heard, however, while at home, 
 that the Yankees had overrun the plantation and run off 
 the negroes, and that most 'of them had been brought up 
 the river to Cairo. He had at once procured from 
 General Boyle a pass to Cairo and a letter of introduc- 
 tion to General Tuttle, in which he was indorsed as a 
 sound, thorough-going Union man, in whom all confi- 
 dence could be pla'ced, and statihg also that he was now 
 in search of certain negroes supposed to be in Cairo, and 
 that any assistance rendered him in their recovery would 
 be considered a particular favor by the writer, who 
 regarded it as no more than an act of justice to a loyal 
 man. On the strength of these representations he had 
 recovered the negroes^ and was now only waiting for a 
 
THE BOGUS KiNTUGKY UNIONIST. 345 
 
 boat to take tliem home witli him. In the meanwhile, if 
 he could be of any service, he had only to mention it. 
 He had some money left, and if it was money the doctor 
 wanted, it was at his command. If there was not enough 
 of it, he would procure more for him. He would sign a 
 bond, would indorse any statement, would make any sort 
 of representations to General Tuttle in his behalf) and, 
 with the character given him by his letters of recom- 
 mendation, he thought he could arrange the matter with 
 the general and procure his release. , 
 
 The doctor thanked him warmly, but said that it would 
 be of no use, as it was beyond the power of General 
 Tuttle to do anything in the premises. He had been 
 implicated in smuggling contraband goods through the 
 lines, and had been ordered to be sent back to General 
 Eosecrans, to be dealt with for the violation of his parole. 
 His own case was bad enough, to be sure ; but it was not 
 for himself he cared. His life was worth nothing, and 
 he would die any time to serve the Confederacy : it did 
 not matter whether he ever returned to the land of his 
 love. It was not for his own sake he wished it, but to 
 relieve the sufferings and save the lives of his compan- 
 ions-in-arms. There was a great scarcity of all kinds of 
 medicines in the South, and hundreds were dying for the 
 want of them. He had hoped, in his poor way, to do 
 something for them, but he had been betraj^ed by a 
 pretended friend. But even this failure, involving the 
 consequences it did, was a small matter compared with 
 the detention of his fellow-traveller. That was a public 
 calamity which it was of the utmost importance to remedy 
 at oijce ; for, to speak confidentially. Captain Denver was 
 not Captain Denver at all, but George IST. Sanders, just 
 returning from England with the acceptance of the Con- 
 federate loan, by the Eothschilds, in his pocket. This 
 he had managed to save from the general confiscation; 
 and if any way could now be devised to get him away 
 and through the lines immediately, all would yet be well; 
 
346 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 
 
 and the Confederacy financially be recognized as an 
 independent nation. As for himself, he haduio particular 
 desire to go again to Nashville if it could be avoided, but 
 Sanders must be helped through at all hazards, without 
 reference to himself or any body else. Some time 
 previously, it will be remembered, the noted George N. 
 Sanders escaped to England through Canada ; and this 
 tale was concocted to correspond with that event and 
 seem plausible. 
 
 During this narration Phillips was deeply interested, 
 and at its close so much excited ^that he could hardly 
 speak. After gazing abstractedly for a few moments, he 
 invited the doctor to his room, where they could talk 
 more privately and with less danger. There he repeated 
 that, though professedly Union, he was heart and hand 
 with the South, and always had been. He had aided it 
 at every opportunity — had smuggled through clothing, 
 medicines, arms, and ammunition, had acted as a spy, and 
 when Bragg was threatening Louisville had sent his 
 negroes to him, time and again, with valuable informa- 
 tion, and on one very important occasion had gone him- 
 self. His earnest professions of loyalty had completely 
 deceived the Federal authorities, and he was trusted by 
 General Boyle as a friend, and the standing thus acquired 
 had made him of considerable service to his Southern 
 friends, and he had expected to continue in his assumed 
 character somewhile longer; but now he thought he 
 could do more good by throwing off the mask. 
 
 '' Come straight back to Louisville with me," he said. 
 "I will put you and Sanders both through, and go myself 
 in the bargain. I am tired of Yankee rule ; don't care 
 
 a for them, and ask no odds. I've got money 
 
 enough, everything I want, and can get along without 
 them. It will be easy enough to get away. Nobody 
 will suspect me, and I can get a pass from Boyle to go 
 anywhere. I've got some of the best horses in the 
 country — can't be beat for speed and bottom ; and we 
 
THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 34t 
 
 will fix up a light wagon, fill it witli medicines most 
 needed, and be away beyond reach before anybody '11 
 think of such a thing as pursuit." 
 
 The doctor assenting, an immediate return to Louis- 
 ville was agreed upon, where the three were to meet 
 again and make all necessary arrangements for the trip. 
 On reaching that city, the doctor went at once to see 
 General Boyle, when the following colloquy ensued : — 
 
 " Greneral, do you know a man by the name of Phillips, 
 living some three miles out of town?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, very well. He's a particular friend of 
 mine." 
 
 'Do you know his wife and his daughter, Mrs. Dr. 
 Keller?" 
 
 " Yes — know the whole family." 
 
 "What is their position, general, on the war ques- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Oh, they are loyal. He's one of the very best Union 
 men we have in Kentucky." 
 
 " Ah ? But, general, what would you think if I should 
 say I had made an arrangement with him to poison 
 you T' 
 
 " That you were as mad as a March hare." 
 
 " Well, I don't mean to say that I have exactly any- 
 thing of that kind against him, but I do say that he is not 
 a Union man at all, but, on the contrary, a rebel and a 
 "spy." 
 
 " How do you know that?" 
 
 "Oh, simply enough. He told me so himself ; that's 
 all. I met him in Cairo a day or two since, and we had 
 a long talk." (Here the doctor narrated the circum- 
 stances, and gave the conversation as it occurred.) " I'll fix 
 it upon him in any way you wish. He shall give money 
 to anybody you name, to buy contraband goods and 
 medicines with. He shall leave his house on any night 
 you say in any kind of wagon you say. You shall exa- 
 mine that wagon, and in it you shall find contraband 
 
348 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 
 
 goods. You shall arrest him at any point you please, 
 and you will find our man Conklin [Denver] in the wagon, 
 blacked and disguised as a negro. You shall find upon 
 him letters to Southern rebels ; or you may secrete your- 
 self behind a screen, and hear him tell his own story, how 
 he has deceived you, how he smuggled goods through to 
 the rebels times without number, how he kept Bragg in- 
 formed of what was going on last summer, and how he is 
 now preparing to go south with an amount of medicines, 
 important dispatches, etc." 
 
 " Good God ! Is it possible that he is such a man ? I ■ 
 would have staked my life on his loyalty and good faith. 
 But can't you stay and work the case up for me ?" 
 
 " I will stay to-morrow and do what I can ; but the 
 next day I must be in Xashville. I will arrange matters 
 so that your own men can fix the whole thing upon him, 
 but I am expected back day after to-morrow, and dare 
 not stay longer." 
 
 " I don't like to trust them ; it's too important a case. 
 I'll telegraph to the Chief of Police, and, if your business 
 isn't a matter of too much importance, get permission for 
 you to stay a few days. How will that do ?" 
 
 " Yery well." 
 
 The doctor then took his leave, and the next morning 
 was shown -a dispatch authorizing him to remain in 
 Louisville so long as General Boyle should require his 
 assistance. 
 
 That day Phillips came to see the doctor at the Gait 
 House. The project was discussed more at length, and 
 a plan of operations partially agreed upon. At length 
 Phillips said to the doctor — 
 
 "Do you know my son-in-law. Dr. Keller?" 
 
 " Yery well ; have seen him a hundred, times." 
 
 " Do you know his wife ?" 
 
 " Yes : I met her frequently in Memphis. She was 
 connected with some aid society there, and I saw her often 
 about the hospitals." 
 
THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 349 
 
 " Did you ? She's at my house now, and will be crazy 
 to see you." 
 
 The doctor saw that he was getting himself into a 
 scrape. Known to Mrs. Keller by another name and in 
 another character^ how should he meet her now, in new 
 garb and guise, without revealing the deception and 
 frightening away his game. The only escape from the 
 dilemma was to put a bold face on the matter, and by 
 sheer audacity overcome any difl&culties or obstacles that 
 might be thrown in his way by reason of old acquaintance. 
 He would be very happy to meet the lady, he said, but 
 could not call| on her. He did not think it was wise to 
 leave the hotel, and especially to go beyond the lines. 
 It was only a matter of courtesy that he was allowed the 
 liberty he enjoyed. Charged with breaking his parole, 
 strict military usage would demand close confinement 
 under guard, and he was anxious to do nothing ^to which, 
 the least exception could* now be taken. Any further 
 mishap to him would endanger the success of their new 
 enterprise, and it was • vitally important that Sanders 
 should get through this time without fail. If his daughter 
 could be induced to call upon him at the Gait House, it 
 would confer a personal favor upon him, and would re- 
 lieve him from the necessity or temptation of doing any- 
 thing incompatible with the terms of his parole with the 
 strictest sense of honor. Phillips acknowledged the just- 
 ness of this view of the case, and promised that Mrs. Kel- 
 ler should visit him the next day. 
 
 Sure enough, the next morning in came Mrs. Keller. 
 Hardly had she alighted from her carriage when the 
 doctor welcomed her in his most graceful manner. 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Keller ? I am delighted to 
 see you. How .well you are looking! How are the 
 children ? When did you leave Meniphis ? How long 
 have you been in Louisville ? When did you hear from 
 Dr. Keller ? How did you leave all the friends in Mem- 
 phis?" 
 
350 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 
 
 And so for full five minutes the doctor launched at 
 her question after question, with the utmost rapidity of 
 his rapid utterance, scarcely giving her time to hear, 
 much less answer the first, before her attention was called 
 to a second, a third, and so on, until she was so hopelessly 
 confused and perplexed that she could say just nothing 
 • at all. By the time she had recovered, the doctor, with 
 diplomatic skill, had diverted the conversation into new 
 channels, still giving her no time to advert to their ac- 
 quaintance in Memphis and the spirit of change which 
 had since come over him. At length, by shrewd manage- 
 ment, she edged in this simple question — 
 
 "When did you see Dr. Keller last?" 
 
 The road how being clear, the doctor answered more 
 at leisure, but not less elaborately — 
 
 '' It has been a good while — some five or six months. 
 I have "^en a prisoner three months or more, and Gene- 
 ral Hindman had gone to Arkansas some time before I 
 was captured, and I have not seen the doctor since he 
 left with the general." 
 
 " I had no idea you had been so long a prisoner. How 
 did you happen to be taken, and how did you escape?" 
 
 " We were taken in the Confederate hospital at luka. 
 Ordinarily, surgeons are not treated as prisoners, but are 
 considered non-combatants. We, however, were retained 
 as hostages for the return of certain Federals imprisoned 
 by General Price in violation, as the Yankee commander 
 alleged, of the rules of war and the cartel agreed upon 
 by the contending parties. A very intimate friend of 
 mine. Dr. Scott, also of the Confederate army, and cap- 
 tured with me, married a cousin of the Federal General 
 'Stanley; and through the influence which this relation- 
 ship gave him we were released on parole, the remainder 
 being still in captivity." 
 
 The doctor then proceeded with a relation of the occur- 
 rences of the past two or three days, dwelling particularly 
 upon the unfortunate detention of Sanders. Mrs. Kel- 
 
THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 351 
 
 ler's sympathy was at ODce excited. She entered warmly 
 into their plans and purposes, and freely offered every 
 assistance that it was in her power to render. She would 
 go herself, but circumstances over which she 'had no 
 control would not permit it. She had a younger, unmar- 
 ried sister, however, who was very anxious to accompany 
 them, and she would dress her in boy's clothes to avoid 
 suspicion and trouble. 
 
 Just then Phillips himself carpe in, flushed with excite- 
 ment, and eager to be off at once. His whole mind was 
 bent on the enterprise, and he could not be easy until 
 they were fairly started. His arrangements were all 
 perfected, and he knew just where he could .buy every- 
 thing he wanted ; he would take the articles out to his 
 house a few at a time, and nobody would imagine any- 
 thing out of the way. He could easily make two trips 
 a day ; and it wouldn't take long at that rate to load the 
 wagon. He wanted everything ready, so that they could 
 be off at a moment's notice. 
 
 " Certainly," said the ^ doctor, thoughtfully, "it will be 
 well to have everything ready. But since I saw you last 
 I've been thinking about this thing of carrying contra- 
 band goods with us, and I've about concluded it won't do. 
 It is true that the medicines would do an immense amount 
 of good — possibly save many lives ; but there's Denver ; 
 he must be got through, anyhow. It won't do to risk 
 anything. We must have a sure thing of it this time. 
 Then, again, I don't want to act in .bad faith by violating 
 my parole. Our people want such things badly enough, 
 but they must get them in some other way. It will be 
 glory enough for us to get Denver through ; 'twill be 
 better than winning a battle ; whole generations will rise 
 up and call us blessed. Don't let us attempt too much 
 and spoil it all: "Better avoid all needless risk, and stick 
 to one thing. "We are made men if we succeed in that." 
 
 But Phillips was not convinced. He didn't believe 
 there was any risk at all, and wasn't going wit^i an empty 
 
352 THE BOGUS KENTUCKY UNIONIST. 
 
 wagon— not he. It should be packed as full as it could 
 hold with drugs and other needed goods. He had money, 
 and w^ going to use it ; and if he, the doctor, was afraid to 
 go with him, he might find some other means of getting 
 there. 
 
 To this, the doctor only replied that he still thought it 
 unwise, but he was not the man to back out of any enter- 
 prise. Still, he would not violate his parole — would not 
 knowingly engage in any contraband trade. But Denver 
 was under no such restraint, and, said the doctor — 
 
 "You had better talk with him. He knows just what 
 is wanted. He's a mild, quiet fellow, however, and never 
 intrudes himself upon anybody's notice. He wouldn't 
 think of suggesting such a thing ; but if you furnish him 
 money he'll buy just what can be used to the best advan- 
 tage. He can buy and you can load the goods ; but I 
 don't want to know anything about them. You can be 
 ready to start on such a day, and I will meet you at 
 some station on the railroad and take passage Avith you 
 there." 
 
 Phillips was satisfied with this, and at once sought out 
 Denver and gave him one hundred and fifty-five dollars 
 — all the money he had with him — directed him to a 
 particular store where he could get all the quinine, &c. 
 that he wanted, told him to buy as much as ne thought 
 best, and pay this money down as an earnest of good faith 
 in making the purchase. In the meanwhile he would 
 draw from the bank as much more as would be needed, 
 and with it he could settle the bill the next day. Den- 
 ver went as directed, but found that the merchant would 
 sell him nothing without a special permit from General 
 Boyle. This was reported .to the doctor, who promised 
 to have that obstacle removed without delay. 
 
 While Phillips and Denver are arranging other matters, 
 the doctor goes to General Boyle, reports progress, and 
 asks him to issue a permit for the sale of the quiniuQ. 
 The general hesitates, doesn't exactly, like to do it, and 
 
A contraband's idea of war. 353 
 
 finally asks if they can't mark some boxes "quinine." 
 nail them np, load them into his wagon, and have them 
 found there when arrested. "But no," he continues, 
 "that won't do at all. He'd beat us in that game. We 
 couldn't show that he had anything contraband in his 
 wagon. Of course he'd deny it, and it would be neces- 
 sary for us to prove it. Can't we borrow enough to 
 answer our purposes?" 
 
 "Possibly ; but it would be better for the Government 
 to buy it, if you won't let him do it. It would be worth 
 more than five or six hundred dollars to get rid of such 
 an arrant old traitor and spy." 
 
 " I guess we can get along by borrowing." 
 The borrowing project very nearly defeated the whole 
 matter, by the delay incurred ; but the quinine was finally 
 \ obtained, given to Denver, and safely packed in Phillips' 
 wagon. Everything was now ready for a start. The 
 [ doctor took the cars for the place of meeting, and Phillips 
 set out in his wagon, Denver, disguised as a negro, driving. 
 The doctor arrived safely at the appointed rendezvous ; 
 but not so Phillips. He was scarcely well started when 
 he was arrested and brought back to Louisville. Too 
 proud and haughty to betray the least emotion, there was 
 no " scene" at any time during his arrest or examination, 
 and he vouchsafed not a word in his own behalf Defence 
 there could be none. His guilt was too patent for doubt. 
 Conviction followed as a matter of course ; and instead 
 of finding a home on his Mississippi plantation, he became 
 an involuntary recipient of the widely-dispensed hospi- 
 talities of Camp Chase. 
 
 . . A COI^TBABAro'S IDEA OF WAE. 
 
 A correspondent writing from Burnside's Division at 
 Newbern, N. C, gives the following amusing account 
 of the ideas which the negroes there have of the war. 
 23 
 
354 A CONTRABAND'S IDEA OF WAR. 
 
 We were passing along the wharves, a few days ago, 
 wondering at the amount of business that was there 
 transacted. While standing observing a cargo of horses 
 being transferred from a vessel to the shore, an " old con- 
 traband" appeared at our elbow, touching his old fur hat, 
 and scraping an enormous foot. He opened his battery 
 upon us with the following — 
 
 " Well, boss, how is yer ?" v 
 
 " Pretty well, daddy ; how are you ?" 
 
 "I'se fuss rate, I is. B'long to old Burnemside's boys, 
 does yer?" 
 
 " Yes, I belong to that party. Great boys, ain't they?" 
 
 " Well, I thought yer b'long to dat party. Great man, 
 he is, dat's sartin. Yes sir." 
 
 "We waited and waited; we heard yer was comin', 
 but we mos guv yer up. 'Deed we jess did; but one 
 morning we heard the big guns, way down ribber, go 
 bang, bang, bang, and de folks round yer began to cut 
 dar sticks mitey short, and trabbel up de rail-track. Den 
 bress de good Lord, we knowed yer was comin', but we 
 held our jaw. Byme-by de sogers begun to cut dac 
 stick, too, and dey did trabble I Goramity, 'pears dey 
 made de dirt fly ! Yah, ha !" 
 
 " Why, were they scared so bad ?" 
 
 "De sogers didn't skeer um so much as dem black 
 boats. 'Kase, yer see, de sogers shot solid balls, and dey 
 not mind dem so much ; but when dem boats say bo-o-m, 
 dey knowed de rotten halls was comin', and dey skeeted, 
 quickern a streak o' litenin." 
 
 " What rotten balls did the boats throw at them ?" 
 
 " Don't yer know ? Why, dem balls dat are bad, dar 
 rotten; fly all to bits — 'deed does dey — play de very 
 debbil wid yer. No dodgin' dem ere balls ; 'kase yer 
 dunno whar dey fly to — strike yah and fly yandah ; 
 dat's what skeered 'em so bad !" 
 
 " Well, what are you going to do when the war's over.? 
 Going along ?" 
 
THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 355 
 
 "Dunno, 'praps I goes Norf, wid clis crowd. Pretty 
 mncli so, I guess. 'Peers ter me dis chile had better be 
 movin'." 
 
 THE TEAITOK WAGOK-MASTEE. 
 
 In the early part of February, 1863, there was board- 
 ing at the Oity Hotel, in Nashville, a lady of ordinary 
 appearance and apparently about forty-five years of age. 
 Her husband and three sons were in the rebel Morgan's 
 command, and she was known by the proprietors of the 
 house and by Mrs. "Winburn — the wife of one of them — 
 as entertaining strong sympathy for the Confederate cause. 
 In reality, however, she was a Union woman, and in the 
 employ of Colonel Truesdail, Chief of the Army Police. 
 From the position of her relatives, and her former place 
 of residence, aided by her expression of Southern senti- 
 ments, she was considered a genuine secessionist, and had 
 completely won the favor of Mrs. "Winburn, by whom 
 she was made a friend and confidante. Mrs. W. told her 
 on several occasions how much aid she and others of her 
 lady friends had rendered to the Confederates, and how 
 much more they intended to do for them. Wh*en visitors 
 arrived at the City Hotel and made known their Southern 
 sympathies, she was introduced to them as entertaining 
 the same sentiments, and at once admitted to their con- 
 fidence and councils. In this way she learned the exist- 
 ence there of a club, or rather association of persons, of 
 rebel tendencies, the members of which made use of a 
 certain password, without which none could gain admit- 
 tance to their meetings, and this password was " Truth 
 and Fidelity." 
 
 About the middle of February there arrived at the 
 hotel from Louisville a certain Mrs. Trainor, who was 
 there joined by her husband, John Trainor — the latter 
 understood to have formerly been master of transporta- 
 
356 V THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 
 
 tion in the Ordnance Department of Major-General Buell's 
 army. Mrs. Trainor was introduced by Mrs. Winburn 
 to her confidential friend our detective as one who had 
 at heart the welfare of the Southern Confederacy, and 
 Mrs. Trainor presented her to Trainor, her husband, say- 
 ing that he too was a friend of the South, and ardently 
 desired its success in the struggle for independence. 
 This interview proved the precursor of many others, in 
 which Trainor and his wife made many interesting state- 
 ments concerning themselves and the assistance which 
 they had rendered to the rebel arijay. 
 
 From Trainor she thus gained the following remark- 
 able information. In the fall of 1861, he had run the 
 Federal blockade and brought from Louisville to Nash- 
 ville, for the use of the Confederate army, several wagon- 
 loads of arms, ammunition, drugs, and medicines. These 
 he had purchased in Louisville — the arms and ammuni- 
 tion from a Mr. Bull, and the drugs and medicines from 
 Dr. Pile. While in Nashville on this business, he made 
 the acquaintance of General Zollicoffer, who advised him 
 to abaiidon the neutral position he then occupied in regard 
 to the war and engage in the service of the Confederates. 
 This he agreed to do ; and, the better to accomplish his 
 ends, he wlxs to obtain the position of Master of Trans- 
 portation in the Ordnance Department of the Federal 
 army. On his return to Louisville he had applied for 
 the situation, which was given him. Since then he had 
 improved the advantages it offered, by following the 
 Federal army down into Alabama with wagon-loads of 
 contraband goods, which, according to previous arrange- 
 ment, he disposed of at different places. During the 
 whole Buell canipaign the rebels knew, at all times, the 
 strength of the escort which accompanied him, and if 
 they did not capture his train it was not his fault. In 
 the different skirmishes between the two armies he so 
 managed that his train was never in its right place, and 
 frequently the rebels would capture a portion of it, but 
 
THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. SSt 
 
 would not take liim prisoner, as it would be against their 
 own interests to do so. 
 
 H^ regretted very mucli that the Confederates had not 
 captured a train of one hundred and sixteen wagons, once 
 tinder his charge, while General Buell was on his march 
 to Kentucky in September last. He had requested^ Mrs. 
 "Winburn to inform Generals Morgan and Forrest where 
 they could find the train, and how many men the escort 
 numbered. This she did ; and he was-so sure they would 
 capture the train that he took Mrs. Winburn •and his wife 
 along for some distance from ISTashville to see the fun of 
 the capture. He had with him a young man — formerly 
 in the Confederate armj^, but at that time in his employ 
 — who was so disappointed because the train was not 
 captured that he blew up and destroyed twenty-five of 
 the wagons as they were passing over a certain bridge, 
 and this, he said, was done with his own knowledge and 
 consent, and partially at his suggestion. 
 
 After General Rosecrans assumed command of the 
 Army of the Cumberland, Trainor said he began to pur- 
 chase from the Federal of&cers and soldiers, and from 
 others who would sell them, pistols for General Wheeler, 
 Dick McCanjj, and the guerrilla bands in the country. 
 Some of them he carried to the rebels himself, and the 
 balance he sent by a man named Kevins, who lived in 
 Kentucky and had a contract to furnish cattle to the 
 Federal army. This ISTevins usually had with him some 
 of Morgan's men, through whom he kept the Confederates 
 continually informed of the number and movements of 
 Federal troops along the line of the Louisville k Nashville 
 Railroad, and he had acted as a guide for Kirby Smith 
 when the latter invaded Kentucky last fall.. Trainor 
 further said that he (Trainor) now had charge of the 
 army transportation at ISTashville, and that about the time 
 of the battles at Stone River he was in the rebel camp 
 and gave information. At this the lady remarked — 
 
358 ' THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 
 
 " That accounts for the success of the Confederates in 
 capturing so many of the Federal wagons." 
 
 " You may come to what conclusions on that subject 
 you please/' answered Trainor. 
 
 The young man, he continued, who was with him at 
 the time of Buell's retreat, and blew up the twenty-five 
 wagons, was still in his employ ; and one night, not long 
 since, by his management, five hundred mules belonging 
 to the United States had stampeded and mysteriously 
 disappeared- from their corral. Many other interesting 
 things which the young man had done for the benefit of the 
 Confederate Government Trainor related with relish, and 
 seemed desirous to impress upon the mind of his hearer 
 that he himself was at all times anxious to serve the 
 rebels and injure the Federal Government in every pos- 
 sible way. Seeing this disposition on his part, she sug- 
 gested that he could now do more good by purchasing 
 arms, quinine, and other medicines for the use of the 
 Confederate army than in any other way, and adding that 
 she had a friend in Louisville who was a secret agent for 
 that very purpose, and who would assist him in getting 
 them South. 
 
 Trainor replied that he had then on hand one and a 
 half pounds of quinine and two or three splendid pistols, 
 which he would like to send South, and that he could 
 procure any quantity of pistols if the money was furnished 
 to purchase them. 
 
 The lady then proposed to buy his pistols and quinine, 
 if he would deliver them to her friend in Louisville, who 
 would send them through the lines. 
 
 Trainor assented, and sold her the quinine and four 
 pistols, for which he received from her two hundred dol- 
 lars. He also proposed to, and did, write to Mr. Bull 
 and Dr. Pile, of Louisville, requesting them to furnish 
 the secret agent above mentioned such quantity of qui- 
 nine, pistols, and knives as he might wish for the Con- 
 federate service. He further said that he had a friend 
 
THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 359 
 
 by the name of Kellogg, in whom he had confidence, and 
 for whom he had obtained a pass and transportation to 
 Louisville, and that he would send the quinine and pistols 
 'hy him, instead of by his wife, as had been previously 
 arranged. Implicit faith could be reposed in Kellogg, 
 as he had recently engaged in running horses to the Con- 
 federacy, and was now trying to assist a rebel prisoner 
 to escape from the penitentiary. His friend Mr. Bull, 
 continued Trainor, had a brother who was chief clerk in 
 the Quartermaster's Department of the Union army, and 
 as good a secessionist as his brother, and who had a much 
 better chance to serve the South than he had. He 
 thought the Federals would have a good time whipping 
 the Confederates, when many of the important offices of 
 the different army departments were filled by friends of 
 the latter. 
 
 The reason assigned for sending the quinine and pistols 
 to the South by the way of Louisville was that it afforded 
 less chance of detection than to send directly from Nash- 
 villc; as the Federal army had a vigilant police, and it 
 was almost impossible to get them through* the lines in 
 that direction. Accordingly, as agreed, Tr^iinor, about 
 the middle of March, did send to Louisville, by his friend 
 Kellogg, the quinine and pistols that had been purchased 
 of him, and which, on their arrival, were delivered to the 
 supposed secret agent of the Confederacy, as will here- 
 after be related. 
 
 About the same time there arrived at the City Hotel a 
 gentleman representing himself as Dr. Dubois, an agent 
 of the Confederate States Army, and just from Bragg's 
 command. As he had w^lth him a genuine pass, signed 
 by General Bragg and countersigned by General Breckin- 
 ridge, his statement was readily accepted as true by the 
 proprietors of the hotel and its habitues. For nearly a 
 week after his arrival he was confined to his room, by a 
 severe sickness, during which lie was carefully nursed by 
 Mrs. Winburn. As soon as recovered, he was introduced 
 
360 THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 
 
 hy, Mrs. W. to Trainor, as a friend of hers who had just 
 come to Nashville from Bragg's army to purchase medi- 
 cines and goods to be sent South through the Federal 
 lines. Dubois at once expressed his desire of purchasing 
 pistols and medicines, and requested Trainor to assist 
 hirn. 
 
 Trainor eagerly assented, and said, " I will furnish you 
 nine." 
 
 " But I want and must have more," 
 
 " Well, I will get them for you, and will leave them at 
 Mrs. Davidson's, six miles out on the Charlotte pike. 
 Some of my army -wagons are going out that w^ay after 
 wood, and I can easily carry them with me." 
 
 Mrs. Winburn had previously sold Dubois three pistols, 
 for which she had been promised twenty-five dollars each, 
 two of which Trainor took with him to his camp to 
 add to those he had tliere, and to take them all out 
 together as soon as possible. Dubois said that he would 
 conceal in the muzzle of the third pistol important infor- 
 mation, written in cipher, and a letter to General 
 Cheatham, telling him that a lot of pistols had been pro- 
 cured through the influence of Captain Trainor, and were , 
 now on their way South, to which was added a request 
 that he would set Trainor right with the Confederates 
 when they got possession of Nashville. This pistol 
 Trainor called for and carried away the next evening, 
 but on the day following returned and said- that he was 
 totally unable to carry them out to Mrs. Davidson's, as 
 he had expected to. Dubois then told him he had a 
 frienid who would take them out, and he might bring 
 them back to the hotel — which he agreed to do the next 
 evening. 
 
 He came as he had promised, bringing with him eight 
 revolvers on his person, some of them in his waist-belt 
 and some in his boot-legs. As he handed them over, and 
 while Dubois was putting them under the blanket on the 
 bed, he remarked that he had on several occasions taken 
 
THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 361 
 
 out on "his person as many pistols as he had just brought 
 in. Mrs. Winburn, who was present, boasted that she 
 had taken out four blankets on her person, and that a 
 lady friend had carried out beneath her skirts, in the 
 same way, a cavalry saddle. "While this conversation 
 was still progressing, all parties, including Mrs. Winburn, 
 Trainor, and Dubois, were arrested, the latter being ironed 
 and sent out — ostensibly to prison, but more probably to 
 some other field of operations, where his skill in detect- 
 ing rebel smugglers and spies might be made equally 
 useful. 
 
 Mrs. Trainer had already returned to Louisville, and 
 had been there some days. The medicines which had 
 been forwarded by Kellogg were in her possession, and 
 she was anxiously awaiting a visit from the secret agent 
 of the Confederacy, to whom she could deliver them and 
 make with him arrangements for the purchase of more. 
 She had been telegraphed by her Nashville friends that 
 he would call on her in a few days ; and, as some time 
 had elapsed since the receipt of the despatch, she began 
 to wonder why he did not come. One day, as she was 
 returning in a carriage to her house, in what is known as 
 California Suburb, on Fifteenth Street beyond Kentucky 
 ^treet, she espied coming from it a well-dressed, hand- 
 some-appearing young man, who wore conspicuously a 
 large red-white- and-red cravat. As he came opposite to 
 the carriage, he hailed the driver, and asked — 
 
 "How far are you going?" 
 
 "Just to yonder house," replied the coachman, pointing 
 to Mrs. Trainor's, the house he had just come from. 
 
 "Yery well: I will wait here for you, then, and go 
 back with you." 
 
 During the time occupied in this colloquy, and as long 
 as she could see him from the carriage-window, Mrs. 
 Trainer eyed him earnestly, as though she suspected he 
 was the person she was anxious to see. ISTothing was 
 said, however, and on reaching home she went in and 
 
362 THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 
 
 found on the table a note for Tier from one H. C. Davis, 
 stating that he was the secret agent of the Confederacy, 
 that he had just called to see about the medicines, and 
 was sorry to find her out. The signature to the note was 
 '' Truth and Fidelity," — a sure guarantee that there was 
 no deception in the matter. Meanwhile the coach had re- 
 turned to where the prospective passenger was left stand- 
 ing, when that gentleman took his seat inside and directed 
 the driver to turn around and go again to the house he 
 had just left. Mrs. Train or met Davis at the door and 
 welcomed him most cordially. Holding out her hand, 
 she said — 
 
 " I thought as much. I was sure it was you when I 
 first put my eye on you." 
 
 " Why, madam, what could have made you think so ?" 
 
 " Oh, that cravat ! Nobody else would wear it. But 
 you must be very careful about it. It isn't safe. You'll 
 be suspected." 
 
 " Ob, I guess there's no danger. I have friends enough 
 in Louisville to take care of me." 
 
 The two then entered the house and engaged in earnest 
 conversation. Davis said that he was just about shipping 
 some goods to the South, and he would like to send what 
 medicine she could furnish along with them. He made 
 it a practice to make as few shipments as possible vK 
 order to avoid suspicion. 
 
 It was all ready, she said, and he might have it as soon 
 as he wished. 
 
 Davis made arrangements to have them delivered at 
 an appointed time, and proposed the purchase of a large 
 quantity in addition to that she had brought from Nash- 
 ville. She entered eagerly into the business, and said she 
 would ascertain at what prices she could obtain quinine, 
 morphine, and pulverized opium. The next day she 
 reported that she could get them from a man named Tafel, 
 who kept a small prescription store — the quinine for six 
 dollars an ounce, the morphine at eight dollars an ounce, 
 
THE TRAITOR WAGON-MASTER. 363 
 
 and the pulverized opium at fourteen dollars a pound. 
 Davis thought this rather high, but said he would take 
 them at that price. He wanted a thousand ounces of 
 quinine and smaller quantities of the others. After 
 making arrangements for the purchase of the medicines 
 and a supply of pistols — which was to be furnished by- 
 Mr. Bull at thirty dollars each — Davis went to the city 
 to prepare for their shipment South. 
 
 The next evening he called again to invite Mrs. Trainor 
 to the theatre, and was told that there was a difficulty 
 about the medicines. Tafel was fearful that he could not 
 make so large a purchase on his individual credit, and 
 that he wished the money advanced to buy them with. 
 Davis replied that he never did business in that way. 
 He. would pay cash on delivery, and if Tafel could not 
 furnish them on those terms they must look elsewhere. 
 Mrs. Trainor thought there would be no difficulty about 
 it. Tafel was to procure them of a wholesale druggist 
 j named Wilder, and the matter could doubtless be arranged 
 to the satisfaction of all concerned. In fact, she could 
 safely promise that it should be ready by the next after- 
 noon. At his next visit, Davis was told that the medi- 
 cines had been purchased, and were ready for delivery, 
 when and where he pleased. 
 
 He wished them delivered at her house, he said, early 
 the next morning. He was all ready to ship, and was only 
 waiting for them. Mrs. Trainor engaged that they should 
 be there without fail, and Davis returned to the city, 
 Laving first arranged with a Federal soldier whom he 
 found at her house — a deserter from the Anderson Cavalry 
 ^to go South and act as a scout for General Breckinridge 
 in his expected movement into Kentucky. The next 
 morning, instead of himself coming to receive the goods 
 as he had promised, he sent out a force of policemen, who 
 reached there just as the wagon containing the medicines 
 drove up to the door. Mrs. Trainor, the driver, and the 
 deserter were taken into custody, and the ft)rmer was sent 
 
364 NOT USED TO IT. 
 
 immediately to Nashville. The wagon was found to 
 contain drugs — mostly quinine and opium — to the value 
 of about five thousand five hundred dollars, according to 
 the wholesaler's bill, and eight thousand eight hundred 
 dollars at Tafel's prices. The pistols did not come. Bull 
 having failed to procure them. Wilder and Bull were 
 also arrested, and the store of the former seized, with its 
 contents, valued at from fifty thousand to seventy-five 
 thousand dollars. Tafel's prescription shop was converted 
 by General Boyle into a medical dispensary for the hos- 
 pitals of Loaisville, and is now used as such. Since her 
 arrest, Mrs. Trainor has been heard to say that she was 
 fearful that secret agent of the Confederacy was only 
 " one of Truesdail's spies," in which supposition she was 
 more than usually correct. ^ 
 
 A CUTE BAEKEY. * 
 
 " Bob," now called Belmont Bob, is the body servant 
 of General Clernand, and at the battle of Belmont it is 
 said of him that when the retreat commenced he started 
 for the boats. Eeaching the banks, he dismounted and 
 slid rapidly down, when an of&cer seeing the action, 
 called out — 
 
 " Stop, you rascal, and bring along the horse." 
 
 Merely looking up as he waded to the plank through 
 the mud, the darkey replied — 
 
 " Can't bey, colonel ; major told me to save the most 
 valuable property, and dis nigger's worf mor'n a horse." 
 
 I[OT USED TO IT. 
 
 A good joke is told from the other side of the lines, of 
 a member of one of the volunteer companies which went 
 doAvn to Pensacola. We think it was a Mississippi 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 365 
 
 (rebel) company, and it is said to be a fact. Being ac- 
 customed to fresh water, living in the interior, and not 
 having been on the Gulf of Mexico before, he was in 
 blissful ignorance of its briny properties. Getting up in 
 the morning to perform his daily ablutions, he drew a 
 bucket full of water, set it down near some of his com- 
 rades, and retired for soap and towels The consequences 
 can be imagined. Recovering from the shock, and rub- 
 bing his burning eyeballs, he exclaimed : " I can whip the 
 
 d^^ d rascal that salted this water. A man can't draw 
 
 a bucket of water, and leave it for a few minutes, without 
 some prank is played upon him." 
 
 Dashing the water aside, he left amid the shouts and 
 jeers of his companions who had been silently watching 
 him. 
 
 NEWCOMEE THE SCOUT. 
 
 Our hero was a private in the Eleventh Indiana Battery, 
 and accompanied Buell in his severe march from Nash- 
 ville, Tenn., over almost impassable roads and through 
 swollen streams to Pittsburg Landing and Shiloh — not 
 arriving, however, in time to participate in Ihe battle. 
 Thence he went to Corinth, remaining there until its 
 evacuation by the rebels, and thence to Huntsville and 
 Stevenson, Alabama. Here, the monotony of camp and 
 stockade life becoming irksome, he began to vary it by 
 scouting on his own account. Frequently at night, after 
 tattoo, he would mount his horse, slip past the pickets, 
 scour the neighboring country in quest of information 
 and adventure, and return again before reveille, his ab- 
 sence seldom bein^ noticed by any one. On one occasion, 
 something of more than ordinary importance having come 
 to his notice, he reported it to Colonel Harker, of the 65th 
 Ohio Volunteers, then commanding the brigade stationed 
 at that post, stating the means by which he had obtained 
 the information, and giving some account of his previous 
 
366 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 midnigtit scouts. The colonel, highly pleased, at once 
 gave him passes, and instructed him to continue the 
 business as he had time and opportunity. 
 
 Frequently he would go down to the Tennessee Kiver 
 in sight of the rebel pickets ; and one night he concluded 
 to cross the river and get a nearer view of them. Strik- 
 ing the stream at a point three miles from Stevenson, he 
 built a raft of rails and paddled himself across. Crawl- 
 ing up the bank through the brush, he came close upon 
 the pickets, seven in number, without being observed. 
 After watching their movements a while and finding 
 nothing of particular interest, he returned safely as he 
 went. Soon afterwards a negro told him of an island in 
 the Tennessee River, some ten miles below Stevenson, 
 on which a company of guerrilla cavalry were in the 
 habit of rendezvousing every night. This opened a large 
 fiekl of operations for our scout, and he determined to 
 visit the island forthwith. 
 
 One afternoon, borrowing a suit of butternut from a 
 negro at Stevenson, he set forth, in that direction. The 
 butternut clothes were carried under his saddle until he 
 was fairly outside of our lines, when he exchanged his 
 own for them and went on in the character of a genuine 
 native. Eeaching the river opposite the island after dark, 
 he again constructed a raft of rails, fastening them together 
 this time with grape-vines, and shoved across the narrow 
 channel to the island, landing in a dense canebrake. 
 Carefully feeling his way through this, he came soon 
 to a corn-crib, around which twenty-five or thirty horses 
 were feeding. It was now ten o'clock, and quite dark, 
 but clear and starlight. Examining the crib, the entrance 
 was discovered about half-way up, and our adventurer 
 at once clambered up and put his bead and shoulders 
 through. Careful listening revealed the presence of 
 sleepers within. Putting his hand down to see how far 
 it was to them, it came in contact with the body of a man. 
 Wishing to know in what direction he was lying, he felt 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 36 1 
 
 along carefully and came upon a pistol in his belt. 
 Working at this, he soon drew it out, and, finding it a 
 good Colt's revolver, put it into his pocket and got down 
 again. Exploring around, he came to a corn-patch and 
 a cabin near by, in which there seemed, from the noise 
 within, to be a family or two of negroes. 
 
 Crossing to the south or rebel side of the island, he 
 found that the stream was much narrower there than on 
 the other side, and that close to the shore a number of 
 . boats and scows, in which the band crossed and recrossed, 
 were tied. It was now time to think about getting home, 
 and he circled around the crib and cabin to reach the 
 place where he had left his raft. When he came in sight 
 of it, there was also to be seen a human form standing 
 by the water's edge and apparently regarding the raft 
 with no little astonishment. In the uncertain light, it 
 was impossible to tell whether it was a man or woman, 
 white or black ; and there was nothing to do but wait 
 until it disappeared. Crouching down amid the canes, 
 he soon saw it turn and begin to climb the bank directly 
 towards him, and as a precautionary measure took out 
 the pistol and cocked it, though he could not see or feel 
 whether it was loaded or not. The person proved to be 
 a negro, and passed by, unconscious of the presence of 
 any one so near, soliloquizing to himself thus — 
 
 "Mighty quare boat, dat ar; 'spec's some of Masser 
 John's work." 
 
 The danger having passed, our self-appointed spy de- 
 scended and re- embarked on his raft. Lest any one 
 should see him, he lay flat upon it, paddling with extended 
 arms, the whole presenting very much the appearance 
 of a floating mass of driftwood. By the time he reached 
 the opposite shore his butternut suit was pretty thoroughly 
 soaked, but without stopping to dry it, he mounted his 
 horse, which he found straying about the woods, rode on 
 to Stevenson, and reported to Colonel Harker. An ex- 
 pedition for the capture of this band — afterwards ascer- 
 
368 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 fcained to be Captain Eoiindtree's company — was just ' 
 about starting, when orders were received to evacuate 
 the place and fall back to Nashville with the remainder 
 of Buell's army. 
 
 The battery went no farther backward' than Nasbville, 
 remaining there duidng the famous investment of the city 
 and until the Army of the Cumberland again reached it. 
 Meanwhile, Newcomer was occasionally employed by 
 General Negley as a detective ; but most of the time was 
 spent with his command. Early in December the police 
 and scout system was fully organized and in successful 
 operation. Our former scout, thinking that he could 
 serve the Government to better advantage in the busi- 
 ness with which he was so familiar, made application to 
 Colonel Truesdail for employment as a scout and spy. 
 The colonel, pleased with his appearance and conversa- 
 tion, at once made an engagement with him, and procured 
 his detail for that special service. Having previously 
 made the acquaintance of one Cale Harrison, a livery- 
 stable-keeper, he now called on him, and, exhibiting a 
 forged certificate of discharge, told him that he was on 
 his way to the rebel army. Harrison, of course, was 
 highly pleased to hear it, and gave him some valuable 
 hints and information for his guidance in the matter. 
 There was, he said, a man living on the Charlotte pike, 
 by the name of Spence, whose son was an aide-de-camp 
 on the staff of General Polk, and who would undoubtedly 
 assist him in getting South and give him a letter of 
 introduction to his son. In this event the road would 
 be clear, and no difficulty need be apprehended in mak- 
 ing the trip. 
 
 Thus directed, he set forth from Nashville on a scout 
 South, with saddle-bags well filled with fine-tooth combs, 
 needles, pins, thread, &c., and carrying two fine navy 
 revolvers. Going directly to Spence's, he introduced 
 himself said he had called by recommendation of Harri- 
 son, made known his business, and asked for a letter to 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 369 
 
 his son, on General Polk's staff. Spence received him 
 cordially, but would not furnish him with the desired 
 letter. He referred him, however, to J. Wesley Katcliffe, 
 living about one mile from Franklin, on the Lewisburg 
 pike, as a person likely to render him very material 
 assistance. This Katcliffe was a rebel agent for the pur- 
 chase of stock and commissary stores, and was well 
 known throughout the whole country. Pushing on, he 
 accordingly called at Eatcliffe's, and made his acquaint- 
 ance. When informed of his plans and purposes and 
 'shown the goods, Katcliffe was much pleased, and soon 
 became very friendly, advising him to go to Shelbyville, 
 where such articles were greatly needed and could easily 
 be disposed of 
 
 Newcomer accordingly started for Shelbyville, and for 
 some time met with no incidents on the wa}^ Between 
 Caney Springs and Kover, however, he fell in with a 
 band of rebel cavalry belonging to General Buford's com- 
 mand, who, on being made acquainted with his business, 
 advised him not to go to Shelbyville, as considerable 
 trouble might be experienced there. Their Joushy shocks 
 of hair suggesting that they were combless, he offered 
 his stock for sale, chatting meanwhile with them about 
 matters and things in general and in that vicinity in 
 particular. Combs which cost two dollars per dozen he 
 sold for two dollars each, and other articles in proportion, 
 and, by the time his trading was finished, had ascertained 
 that General Buford was stationed at KoVer to guard a 
 large mill full of flour and meal, the size of his command, 
 the number and calibre of his guns, and other items of 
 importance, and also what generals and troops were at 
 Shelbyville. 
 
 The cavalrymen now wished him to go back to Nash- 
 ville and bring them some pistols on his return. This 
 he agreed to do, and, having obtained all the information 
 he cared for at this time, turned his horse about and once 
 more set his face toward Nashville. The two pistols 
 24 
 
3T0 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 whicli he had carried with hirrf he had not shown, and 
 still had them in his possession, which circumstance was 
 the cause of a slight adventure on the way home. 
 
 He had proceeded but a little way when he met with 
 a small squad of cavalry, who halted him, as usual, and 
 demanded his name, business, and where he was going. 
 These questions satisfactorily answered, he was next 
 asked if he had any pistols about him. He replied that 
 he had two, and was forthwith ordered by a rough-looking 
 Texan to produce them, which was hardly done before 
 they were coolly appropriated by his interrogator. Ee- 
 rrlonstrance was followed by abuse and threats of violence, 
 and it was only by the intervention of other parties that 
 the matter was compromised by the sale of the pistols at 
 fifty dollars each, and our traveller allowed to go on his 
 way rejoicing. Without interruption head-quarters were 
 reached, and a report of operations duly made. 
 
 Eemaining two days at Nashville, he started again, 
 with three pistols and the balance of the old stock of goods. 
 The first night was spent at Eatcliffe's, and the next day 
 both went to'*Murfreesborough in a buggy. Eatclifie 
 had business to transact with the provost-marshal, and a 
 number of the generals and inferior officers to see, and 
 Newcomer was taken round and introduced to all as a 
 colaborer in the cause of the South. During his four 
 days' stay he was all over the town, through several of 
 the camps, in many of the houses, drank whiskey with 
 General Frank Cheatham, went to a grand party at the 
 court-house, and made love to a dozen or more young 
 ladies of Secession proclivities — aided in all this by a 
 perfect self-possession, an easy, graceful manner and a 
 winning face. In addition to pleasure-seeking and love- 
 making, he also drove a thriving business in the sale of 
 •pistols and other contraband goods, and with pockets 
 filled with money and head stored with information, 
 returned with Eatclifie to his house, and thence to Nash- 
 ville — having first made arrangements with the former to 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. . 311 
 
 accompany him to Shelbyville the next day. Arriving 
 at Nashville after dark, he remained there until morning, 
 and then made preparations and started for a third trip. 
 
 With a pair or two of cotton-cards, a lot of pistol-caps, 
 and some smaller knick-knacks, as passports to favor, he 
 set forth once more to join Ratclifte ; but, having been 
 unavoidably delayed in starting, he found him already 
 gone. Nothing was now to be done but to push boldly 
 ahead in the hope of overtaking him on the road or 
 meeting him at Shelbyville. With the exception of 
 Ratcliffe, not a soul there knew him. Trusting to good 
 fortune, he travelled on, and reached Shelbyville in due 
 season without trouble. 
 
 The usual questions were asked him by guards and 
 pickets, to all of which he replied that he lived in David- 
 son County, was going to visit some friends in the 44th 
 Tennessee Regiment, and had, moreover, a small stock 
 of contraband goods for sale. These answers proving 
 satisfactory, he was passed through, and reached the town 
 early in the forenoon. Most of the day he spent in riding 
 about, looking into quartermasters' and commissary 
 depots, inquiring the names of officers, the number of 
 troops, commanders, &o., until he had ascertained all that 
 he wished. By this time night was drawing near, and it 
 was high time to think about getting out of town ; for 
 should he remain after dark he was certain to be arrested. 
 Ratcliffe was nowhere to be seen ; and on inquiry he was 
 told that he -had gone to Atlanta, Georgia, on the train, 
 and that nobody knew when he would be back. Here 
 was a desperate state of affairs. Get out of town he must, 
 and to get out he must have a pass. It was easy enough 
 to come in, but very difficult to get out. Nobody knew 
 him ; and, in fact, for once in his life, he was at a loss 
 what to do. 
 
 While thus troubled, he met some citizens of Davidson 
 County who had been over the river to the camps of 
 Cheatham and McCown's division and were now on their 
 
372 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT, 
 
 way to the provost-marsTial to procure return passes. 
 Misery loves company, and, with long face, he told them 
 his trouble — dressing it up with a considerable amount 
 of fiction to suit the occasion. By way of adding ear- 
 nestness to his entreaty and to open a sure path to their 
 sympathies, he bought a bottle of whiskey and invited 
 them all to drink with him. The liquor warmed their 
 hearts as well as stomachs; and while hobnobbing to- 
 gether he asked them if they wouldn't vouch to the pro- 
 vost-marshal and thus enable him to procure a pass. 
 Being now in a condition to love the world and every- 
 body in it, they promised to do so, and in due season all 
 went for passes. His seven newly-made friends found 
 no difficulty in their suit, their names being all written 
 on a single pass ; but our scout was left unnoticed. The 
 attention of the provost-marshal was called to him, when 
 that functionary asked if any of them were personally 
 acquainted with him. 
 
 Though rebels, they would not lie — possibly they 
 thought it was not necessary — and answered, " No," but 
 they would vouch for him. But that would not do. 
 His situation was now worse than ever. He not only 
 had no pass, but had not the slightest chance of getting 
 one. The whiskey investment had proved a losing 
 speculation ; and he knew not where to turn for relief. 
 The loungers about the office began to eye him suspi- 
 ciously, and even the dogs seemed disposed to growl and 
 snap at him as having no business there. The place was 
 getting too hot for safety ; and his only hope of escape 
 was to hurry out and lose himself in the crowd. 
 
 His new friends were still outside, waiting for him ; 
 and with them a long consultation was held as to what had 
 better be done about getting away, as every moment 
 added to his already serious danger. Finally, one of the 
 party suggested that he should go with them anyhow — 
 that the pickets would not be likely to notice that his 
 name was not on the pass, there being so many already 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 373 
 
 on it. ■ In default of anything better, this proposition was 
 agreed to, and all set out together. Newcomer, however, 
 was still far from easy about the matter, and was fearful 
 that the plan would not work. 
 
 As they were journeying along, he proposed to the one* 
 who had the pass that he shoald be allowed to write his 
 own name on the pass with a pencil, and if any-objection 
 should be made to it they might say that he belonged to 
 the party but did not come in until the pass was made 
 out, and that the provost-marshal, to save writing a new 
 one, had inserted the name in pencil;mark. This was 
 assented to and done. The amended pass carried them 
 safely through, and the last cloud of anxiety was lifted 
 from his troubled miod. 
 
 Some twelve or fifteen miles having been passed over 
 pleasantly, Newcomer purposely lagged behind and al- 
 lowed the others to get far ahead, when he turned off and 
 struck across to the Lewisburg and Franklin pike. 
 Travelling on this about ten miles, he stopped for the 
 night, with five of Wheeler's cavalry, at the house of a 
 nian who had a son in Forrest's command. Starting the 
 next morning betimes, he reached Eatcliffe's the same 
 evening, but found he had not yet reached home. 
 Stopping a few moments, he passed on through Franklin 
 towards Nashville. He had gone some seven miles, and 
 was near Brentwood, when he saw four cavalrymen riding 
 furiously down a lane just ahead of him. They and our 
 hero reached the entrance at the same moment. The leader 
 of the squad — who proved to be Captain Harris, a scout of 
 John Morgan's, and who, as well as his three men, was 
 very drunk— roughly halted him, and, riding up, pistol 
 in hand, shouted — 
 
 "^ Who are you, and where do you live ?" 
 
 " My name is Newcomer, and I live six miles from 
 Nashville, near Brent Spence's," was the ready, respectful 
 reply. 
 
 Spence was well known to all, and no further trouble 
 
374 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 was apprehended ; but the drunken captain was not so 
 easily satisfied. He soon asked — 
 
 " Where have you been, and what in the are you 
 
 doing here ?" 
 
 " I have been to Shelbyville to see Spence's son, and I 
 took along some contraband goods to sell." 
 
 " You can go back to Franklin with me, sir !" 
 
 Protestation was unavailing; and without more ado 
 he turned about and all started towards Franklin. On 
 the way Harris asked if he had any arms with him, and, 
 on being told that he had two fine revolvers and some 
 cartridges, ordered him to give them up, which was done. 
 "With a savage leer he then said — ■ 
 
 " I know all about you. You're a Yankee spy. 
 
 You have been going backwards and forwards here so 
 much that the citizens of Franklin have suspected you 
 for a long time, and have reported you. I am satisfied 
 that you are a Yankee spy ; and I am going to hang you, 
 
 you. Bragg has ordered me never to bring in spies, 
 
 but to shoot or hang them like dogs, on the spot ; and I 
 am going to make a beginning with you, now, this very 
 night." 
 
 " If you do that," was the reply, " you'll take the life 
 of a good and true man. I can show by J. W. Ratcliffe 
 that I am a true Southerner, that I have done much good 
 for the cause — very likely much more than you have — 
 and that I am doing good every day I live." 
 
 " Captain," said one of the men, " it may be that he is 
 an important man to our cause ; and you had better see 
 Eatcliffe and inquire into his case." 
 
 Harris studied a moment, and finally concluded to go 
 with the prisoner to Ratcliffe's and confer about the 
 matter — at the same time assuring him that it was of no 
 use, for he should certainly hang him anyhow. At 
 Franklin all stopped to drink, and Harris and his rnen 
 became beastly drunk. Eeeling into their saddles, they 
 were once more on their way to Ratclifife'S; but had gone 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. St 5 
 
 only a short distance, wlien Harris wheeled his horse and 
 hiccoughed out — 
 
 " Boys, there's no use in fooling. I am satisfied this 
 
 fellow's a Yankee spy ; and here's just as good a 
 
 -place as we can find to hang him. Take the halter ofi* 
 that horse's neck and bring it here." 
 
 It was indeed a fitting place in which to do foul mur- 
 der. Not a house was to be seen ; and the road wound 
 through one of those cedar thickets so dense that even in 
 mid-day it is almost dark within them. It was now 
 night, and the sombre shade even more gloomy than ever, 
 as Harris jumped from his horse, and, taking the halter, 
 made a noose of it, and, fitting it around the neck of the 
 unlucky scout, drew it up uncomfortably tight, until, in 
 fact, it was just about strangling him. 
 
 Now or never was the time to expostulate and entreat. 
 In a moment it might be to late ; and then farewell home, 
 friends, and all the joys of life ! It is not hard to die in 
 peace, surrounded by weeping friends, or even to meet 
 the dread king in the shock and excitement of battle ; 
 but to hang like a dog ! — the idea is sickening, appalling ; 
 and it is no sign of cowardice to shrink from it. One 
 more effort, then, for life, even if it be to supplicate for 
 mercy from a drunken rebel. 
 
 " Captain," said he, with great feeling, '' it is wrong to 
 take a man's life on so slight a suspicion. It is a vast 
 responsibility to take npon one's self; and you may do 
 something for which you will be sorry by-and-by, in 
 your calmer moments, and for which you may be even 
 punished when it comes to the knowledge of General 
 Bragg." 
 
 To which came the rough and heartless answer, "I 
 know my business ; and I don't want any advice from a 
 
 Yankee spy. When I do, I'll let you know. 
 
 Come along," shouted he, seizing the rope and dragging 
 his victim towards a tree. " I know my duty, and am 
 
3Y6 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. ^ 
 
 going to do it, too. Come on, men, and let's swing np 
 this rascally spy." 
 
 They refused to come to his assistance, however, say- 
 ing that they were as ready as he to do their duty, but 
 they wanted to be a little better satisfied about the matter. 
 It was only half a mile to Ratcliffe's, and it would be a 
 very easy thing to go and see what he said about it. 
 Harris would not listen a moment, and ao^ain ordered 
 them to come and help him, which they dared not longer 
 refuse. 
 
 The case now appeared hopeless. Death stared him in 
 the face, and life, with all its memories and pleasures, 
 seemed passing dreamily away. Looking into the cedars 
 hanging heavy with darkness, they seemed the entrance 
 to the valley of the shadow of death, beyond which lay 
 the infinite and mysterious future. On the verge of the 
 grave life- was yet sweet — yet worth striving for ; and, 
 as a last effort, the unfortunate man went up to Harris, 
 placed his hand on his shoulder, and asked him if he- 
 would promise, on the word and honor of a gentleman, 
 that he would go to General Bragg and give him a true 
 statement of the affair, narrating every circumstance as 
 it actually occurred. Then, turning to the men, he asked 
 them if they would do it, provided the captain did not. 
 Less hardened than, the captain, they feelingly answered 
 that they would ; and the earnestness with which they 
 replied was proof enough that they would make good 
 their words. This set the captain to thinking. He 
 evidently didn't like the idea of Bragg's hearing about it, 
 and, after some moments' reflection, concluded to go to 
 Batcliffe's and see what he would say. The rope was 
 removed, and they 'resumed their journey — the captain 
 Btill swearing it would do no good, as nothing could save 
 him, for he was bound to hang him that very night. 
 
 Life still hung on a thread, however. In the afternoon, 
 when Newcomer had been there, Ratcliffe had not re- 
 turned; and if he were not now at home nothing would 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 37 T 
 
 prevent Harris from carrying out his threat, which he 
 seemed determined to execute. That half-mile was the 
 longest ride Newcomer ever took. No lights were to be 
 seen ; but it was near midnight, and it might be that all 
 were abed. Harris left the prisoner at the gate, in charge 
 of the other three, and went up to the house. He 
 knocked on the window, and Newcomer thought it was 
 the thumping of his own heart. Fortunately Eatcliffe 
 was at home, and came hurriedly to the door, without 
 stopping to dress. The two conversed in a low tone for 
 some time, when Eatcliflfe was heard to exclaim, '' I'll be 
 
 if you do 1" and instantly started down towards the 
 
 gate. Coming up to the prisoner, and throwing one arm 
 around his neck, while he took his hand in his, he said 
 to him — 
 
 " Great God ! Harry, how fortunate that I am at home !" 
 
 After they had talked a while together, Harris came 
 up again, and called Eatcliffe to one side, where they had 
 another protracted conversation in a low, whispering 
 tone. While they were thus engaged, a large owl on a 
 tree near by began hooting, and was speedily answered 
 by another some distance up the road. The three men 
 mounted their horses at once and galloped to the road, 
 shouting, at the top of their voices — 
 
 " Captain, we're surrounded ! This is ft trap. Don't 
 you hear the signals ?" 
 
 The captain stepped to the road, listened a moment, 
 and then, with a volley of oaths, ordered them back for 
 
 "a pack of fools to be scared at an owl." Still 
 
 quaking with fear, which did not entirely leave them" 
 until they were fairly away from the place, they resumed 
 their places, the ov/ls hooting lustily all the while. 
 
 Harris and Eatcliffe continued their conversation for a 
 few minutes, when the former came toAvards Newcomer 
 with a pistol and some papers in each hand, saying, as 
 he gave them to him — 
 
 " I release you, and restore your property, on the word 
 
3*78 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 of Quartermaster Eatcliffe. He assures me that you are 
 one of the most important men in the South, and a secret 
 agent of the Confederacy. I am very sorry that this 
 thing has occurred, and will make any amends in my 
 power. If you desire, I will go with you to Charlotte 
 pike as an escort, or will do you any favor you may 
 ask." 
 
 ^' Ko," said Eatcliffe, " he must come in and stay all 
 night with me. I can't let him go on to-night." 
 
 While standing at the gate^ during this conversation, 
 our released prisoner sold his pistols to the cavalrymen 
 for Tennessee money. Just at this moment, too, a squad of 
 cavalry belonging to Starns's command came by. One of 
 them, to whom Newcomer had sold a pistol some weeks 
 before, recognized him at once, and shook hands with him 
 very cordially. He corroborated Katcliffe's statement, 
 saying that Newcomer was on very important business for 
 the South, which was rendered still more so by the fight 
 having begun at Stewart's Creek. A short time was 
 passed in general conversation, when all left except New- 
 comer, who hitched his horse to the porch and went in with 
 Eatcliffe. When suf&cient time had elapsed for them to 
 be well out of the way. Newcomer said his business was 
 of too much importance to brook delay, and he must be 
 off at once. Eatcliffe said if he must go he could not urge 
 him to stay. " I will go with you to your horse," said he ; 
 " meanwhile take this to keep you from further trouble. 
 If anybody stops you again, just show them this, and you 
 will be passed at once." 
 
 So saying, he took from his pocket a large government 
 envelope — of which he had an abundance — and wrote on 
 it, ''All right, J. W. RatcUffe:' 
 
 Armed with this, he started again, and reached the 
 pickets of the 6th Kentucky Cavalry, who brought him 
 into the city. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning 
 when he arrived at the police-ofQ.ce : but the colonel was 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 3T9 
 
 still "up, and immediatelj telegraphed his report to head- 
 quarters. 
 
 The next day, nothing daunted, he set out again, and 
 went, as nsual, first to Ratcliffe's, where he remained all 
 night — thence the next morning travelled, by way of 
 Hart's Cross-Koads and Caney Spring, to Murfreesbo- 
 rongh, reaching that place on the Saturday evening clos- 
 ing the week of battles at Stone Eiver. Biding about 
 the town, he observed that nearly every house in it was 
 a hospital. Everything was confusion and excitement. 
 Immense crowds of straggling soldiers and citizens were 
 gathered about the court-house and depot. Commissary 
 and quartermaster stores, artillery, ammunition, and camp 
 equipage, were being loaded on the cars, and trains, were 
 starting as fast as loaded. An evacuation was evidently 
 on hand, and that right speedily ; and he determined to 
 leave as soon as possible. The only trouble was how to 
 get out. 
 
 After wandering around some time, seeking an oppor- 
 tunity, he came across a train of small wagons, with wJiich 
 the neighboring farmers had come to take home their 
 wounded sons and brothers. Quick to embrace opportu- 
 -nities, he saw that now was his chance to escape. Dis- 
 mounting from his horse, he led him by the bridle, and 
 walked demurely behind one of these wagons, as though 
 it was in his charge. Clad in butternut, and in every 
 outward appearance resembling the others accompanying 
 it, the deceit was not discovered, and he safely passed all 
 the pickets. It was now nearly two o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, aod he rode rapidly on, in a cold, driving rain, until 
 fairly benumbed. Some nine miles out, he came to a 
 deserted school-house, which he unceremoniously entered^ 
 leading his horse in after him. Within, a large fire- 
 place and an abundance of desks suggested the idea of a 
 fire, and a huge blaze roaring and crackling on the hearth 
 soon demonstrated its practicability. The next step was 
 
380 Ni)WCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 to wring the water out of his well-soaked garments and 
 partially dry them. 
 
 Both horse and man enjoyed themselves here until near 
 daybreak, when he mounted again and rode on to Eat- 
 cliffe's, reaching there about three o'clock Sunday after- 
 noon. Here he remained awhile to converse with his 
 friend, refresh the inner man, and care for his horse-^ 
 neither having eaten a mouthful since the morning before. 
 Eatcliflfe was rejoiced to see him, and wished him to re- 
 main longer ; but he pushed ahead, and reached Nashville 
 late that evening, wellnigh worn out with hunger, fatigue, 
 and want of sleep. His report was immediately tele- 
 graphed to General Eosecrans ; but he had been so long 
 in making his way back that the general did not receive 
 it until he had himself entered Murfreesborough. 
 
 Late the next night he started again, with a single 
 pistol and a small stock of needles, pins, and thread. 
 On Monday evening he reached Eatcliffe's, and, staying 
 ^ but two hours, rode on two miles farther to the house of 
 one M. H. Perry ear, with whom he remained all night. 
 Thence he travelled, by way of Hart's Cross-Eoads, 
 towards Caney Springs, but before reaching the latter 
 place fell in with some of Wheeler's cavalry, with whom 
 he rode along friendly^ and companionly enough. Some 
 of them were old acquaintances and very confidential. 
 They were, they said, just on their way to burn a lot of 
 Federal wagons at Lavergne and Triune, and, deeming 
 him a good fellow well met, invited him to go with them. 
 Thinking that there might be some chance to save the 
 wagons, he declined the invitation, urging the pressing 
 nature and importance of his mission as an excuse. It 
 was soon found, however, that every avenue of escape 
 northward was guarded, and the whole country filled 
 with the cavalry, of whom there were, in all, about three 
 thousand. There was nothing to do, then, but to leave 
 the wagons to their fate and push on, which he did, and, 
 arriving at Caney Springs, remained there over night. 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 381 
 
 The next morning the cavalry began to loiter back 
 from their marauding expedition in squads of from fifteen 
 to a hundred or more, and from them he learned the 
 complete success of the enterprise. Making the acquaint- 
 ance of a lieutenant, he was told that they were going 
 at once to Harpeth Shoals, to burn a fleet of boats which 
 was then on its way to JSTashville. This determined him 
 to abandon the idea of going to Shelbyville, and he 
 accompanied a detachment back as far as Hart's Cross- 
 Eoads, where they went on picket duty at a meeting- 
 house by the road. Bidding them good-day, he started 
 on alone towards Eatcliffe's. Stopping at Perryear's, he 
 was told that Forrest was in Franklin, that the roads 
 were all guarded, and that there was a picket just at 
 Eatcliffe's gate. Perry ear then gave him an open letter 
 of introduction, recommending him to all officers and 
 soldiers of the Confederate army as a true and loyal 
 Southern man, engaged in business of the highest import- 
 ance to the government. , With this he again set out, 
 and, as he had been told, found a picket at Eatcliffe's gate. 
 Eequesting to be admitted, he was asked if he was a soldier, 
 and, on answering negatively, was passed in without hesi- 
 tation. Eatcliffe corroborated Perryear's statement, say- 
 ing, furthermore, that Forrest was^very strict, and that it 
 would be much better for him to remain there until they 
 had all gone down the river. 
 
 " But," added he, " if you must go, I'll go with you as 
 far- as Franklin and help^ou through." 
 
 The town was found to be full of cavalry, who were 
 conscripting every man whom they could lay hands on. 
 Eatcliffe introduced his companion to Will Forrest — a 
 brother of the general, and captain of his body-guard. 
 ' The captain was profuse of oaths and compliments, and, 
 withal, so very friendly that I^Tewcomer at once told him 
 his story and business, all of which was indorsed by 
 Batcliffe, More oaths and compliments followed. The 
 
382 NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. 
 
 captain was glad to know so important a man, and, "by 
 way of business, aslved him if he had any pistols to sell. 
 
 *'No," was the reply; "I have nothing but a single 
 navy revolver, which I carry for my own defence, and 
 which I wouldn't like to part with. But I am just going 
 to Nashville for more goods, and, fearing trouble in get- 
 ting away, I thought I would come and see about it." 
 
 "Oh, I guess there will be none," said the captain. 
 " The general wants to know something about JSTashville, 
 and will be very apt to send you there to get the informa- 
 tion for him. Come ; let's go and see about it." 
 
 The two set forth, and found the general; surrounded 
 by the usual crowd, at his hotel. Calling him to one 
 side, the captain pointed out his new friend, and, Explain- 
 ing who and what he was, concluded by remarking that 
 he wished to go to Nashville for goods, and would bring 
 him any information he desired. The, general not just 
 then in the best of humor, swore very roundly that he 
 knew as much about Nashville as he wanted to — it was 
 men he wanted — and concluded by ordering the captain 
 to conscript his friend into either his own or some other 
 company. Turning on his heel, he walked briskly away, 
 leaving his brother to his anger and our would-be rebel 
 spy to his disappointment. The captain fumed with 
 great, sulphurous oaths, and consoled Newcomer thus 
 wise : — 
 
 " He's a fool if he is my brother. You are the 
 
 last man I'll ever bring to him to be insulted. But you 
 shan't be conscripted. Come with me, and I'll help you 
 through. You can go with my company, but not as a 
 soldier, and I will send you to Nashville myself. My 
 ,fCompany always has tlie advance, and there'll be plenty 
 ' of chances." 
 
 Making a virtue of necessity, this proposition was 
 gladly accepted, and all started on the march. By this 
 time Wheeler had come up and taken the lead^ Forrest 
 following in the centre, and Starns bringing up the rear. 
 
NEWCOMER THE SCOUT. ' 383 
 
 About eight miles from Franklin the whole command 
 encamped for the night, and our hero slept under the 
 same blanket with Captain Forrest and his lieutenant — a 
 Texan ranger named Scott, whose chief amusement 
 seemed to consist in lassooing dogs while on the march, 
 and listening to their yelping as they were pitilessly 
 dragged along behind him. Towards midnfght, one of 
 their spies — a JSTorthern man, named Sharp, and formerly 
 in the plough basiness at Nashville — came in from the 
 Cumberland Eiver. Captain Forrest introduced New- 
 comer to him as a man after his own heart— "true aa 
 steel, and as sharp as they make 'em." 
 
 The two spies became intimate at once, and Sharp 
 belied his name by making a confidant of his new ac- 
 quaintance. He had formerly been in Memphis, and 
 acted as a spy for the cotton-burners. More recently he 
 had been employed with Forrest ; and now he had just 
 come from Harpeth Shoals, where he had learned all 
 about the fleet coming up the river, and to-morrow he 
 was to guide the expedition down to a place where they 
 could easily be captured and burned. Early next morn- 
 ing the march was resumed, and at the crossing of the 
 Hardin pike General Forrest and staff were found wait- 
 ing for them. Upon coming up, the captain was ordered 
 to take his company down the Hardin pike, go on picket 
 there, and remain until eleven o'clock ; when, if nothing 
 was to be seen, he was to rejoin the expedition. These 
 instructions were promptly carried out — a good position 
 being taken on a hill some eight miles from Nashville, 
 from which could be had a view of the whole country for 
 many miles in every direction. About ten o'clock the 
 captain came to Newcomer and said he was going to 
 send him to Nashville himself; at the same time giving 
 him a list of such articles as he wished, consisting princi- 
 pally of gray cloth, staff- buttons, &c. 
 
 As may be imagined, no time was lost in starting, and 
 still less in getting into Nashville, where he arrived in 
 
384 THRILLING ADVENTURE ON THE RAILWAY. 
 
 due season to save the fleet. A force was at once sent 
 out on the Hillsborough pike to cut off the retreat of the 
 rebels, and another on the Charlotte pike to attack them 
 directly. The latter force succeeded in striking their 
 rear-guard, and threw them into confusion, when they 
 hastily fled cross the Harpeth Eiver, which was at the 
 time very high. Our forces, being principally infantry, 
 could not cross in pursuit, but the troops on the Hills- 
 borough pike succeeded in killing, wounding, and cap- 
 turing considerable numbers of them. They were 
 thoroughly scattered, however, and the fleet was saved 
 — which was the main object of the expedition. 
 
 THEILLING ADVENTUEE ON THE RAILWAY. 
 
 Among the many incidents that, during the late rebel- 
 lion, were connected with that great national artery, the 
 Baltimore and Ohio Eailway, is one that I will relate. 
 
 In the fall of 1861, having been detained by business 
 in the town of Cumberland, Md., I was at last about'to 
 start for Wheeling, when I learned by a dispatch that 
 the road was occupied below Harper's Ferry by a force 
 of rebels, and therefore no train would pass. 
 
 This proved to be true in reference to ordinary trains, 
 but a " special," wdth which was the Hon. Mr. Pierpont, 
 and a few other notabilities, had passed before the rebels 
 cut the track, and was therefore approaching. On inquiry, 
 I found that the engineer of the coming train had been 
 one of my old chums, ere I had discarded engine-driving 
 
 for more profitable business. My friend, Joe M , 
 
 was a cool, bold, skilful engineer, and as generous as 
 reckless of danger. 
 
 As I expected, I no sooner saw him and stated my 
 wish to go up the road, than he swore that, special or 
 no special, I should ride with him, if for nothing but 
 
THRILLING ADVENTURE ON THE RAILWAY. 385 
 
 to see the "last time" his engine, "Wildfire," would 
 make. 
 
 As we dashed rapidly along and were passing through 
 Black Oak Bottom, a couple of ill-looking fellows in citi- 
 zen's dress fired at the engineer, but, doing no damage, 
 merely provoked a laugh of derision from him for their 
 want of marksmanship. On arriving at Oakland, Md., we 
 were disagreeably surprised by receiving a telegram, 
 informing us that a party of rebels were making extra- 
 ordinary haste to reach the railway at«a point many miles 
 ahead of us. Also they seemed to know who the special 
 contained, and would therefore use all endeavors to cap- 
 ture or kill us. 
 
 There was but one car behind the engine, and in it was 
 briefly discussed the question of go or stay, while Joe was 
 having the tender refilled with wood and waiter. 
 
 Mr. Pierpont's business was too urgent to admit of any 
 possible delay ; two or three others concluded to risk the 
 trip, and I — well, if it's not too egotistical to say so — I 
 had run risks on railways too often to back out because 
 there was danger ahead, while the rest concluded to stay 
 and trust to luck for the opportunity of getting away. 
 
 Just as we were about to start, the fireman making a mis- 
 step on the " running board," fell and struck the ground 
 with such force as to break his arm^- Joe hurriec^ly picked 
 the poor fellow up, but time was precious just then, so 
 leaving him to the care of the gentlemen who had accom- 
 panied us, he started directly towards me, asking me to 
 come and "run" for him., as, having no fireman, he would 
 have more than he could do. I told him, however, to 
 consider me his fireman for the rest of the trip, as he was 
 best acquainted with the road ; so v/ithout any more ado 
 I doffed my coat, we jumped on, and away we went, past 
 hamlets, through wildernesses of stunted bushes, up grade 
 and down hill, at a speed rarely equalled. Our light train 
 made firing an easy task for me, and I had frequent 
 leisure to scan the beautiful ranges of the Alleghanies 
 25 
 
386 THRILLING ADVENTURE ON THE RAILWAY. 
 
 along which we skirted. Joe was sitting, as was usual 
 with him, with his left hand on the throttle lever, and his 
 body half out of the side window of the " cab," that he 
 might the better scan the track ahead. 
 
 A few miles south of the famous Cheat River Bridge 
 is a deep mountain-gorge with precipitious rocky sides. 
 
 It is shaped like an hour-glass, wide at each end, but 
 tapering each way toward the middle. The track runs 
 for quite a distance along one side of the gorge, makes a 
 very abrupt turn to cross the chasm, a very deep one, in 
 a straight line, and then, still curving inwardly, follows 
 the gorge in a line nearly parallel with the track on the 
 opposite side, for three-fourths of a mile. 
 
 We were pitching along with that peculiar rocking, 
 bounding motion, so different from the jar of ordinary 
 fast speed. As we swept to the top of a grade around 
 the side of a hill that commanded a view of the gorge — 
 Joe and I both on the lookout — we saw, at a moment's 
 glance, enough to make us concentrate our thinking 
 faculties, and act in a hurry, whatever was best to be 
 done. 
 
 There, on the straight track, just at the near edge of 
 the gorge, a lot of men, in gray uniform, were hastily 
 piling up some old ties, logs, &c. ; while at the point 
 where the curve was «harpest — before reaching the gorge 
 — were several more tugging furiously at a rail, one 
 end of which seemed to baffle them, as they pulled it 
 outwards. We were within a mile when we discovered 
 them, and as each noticed them, the shout came simulta- 
 neously from both of us — " The wrong side of the curve !" 
 The ignorant fools were pulling out the inside rail, instead 
 of the outside. In the latter case nothing could have 
 saved us from running off* the track, and probably into 
 the gorge. Our single brakesman, seeing the danger — I 
 suppose from habit — was commencing to tighten the 
 brake, but at a look from Joe I signalled " off brakes ;" 
 Joe, meanwhile, opening the throttle to its widest extent 
 
THRILLING ADVENTURE ON THE RAILWAY. 38 1 
 
 as we dashed down the grade at a positively frightful 
 velocity. 
 
 As we neared them, a party of them huddled together 
 near the track. I seized a large stick of wood, intending, 
 if possible, to hurt '' somebody." We were going alto- 
 gether too swift to fear their taking aim at us; and for 
 that matter, I suppose, they considered our destruction 
 such a certainty that firing at us would be needless. I 
 was poising the big stick of wood, and guessing at the 
 rate of speed— I've had some practice throwing parcels 
 from trains in motion — when Joe suddenly pulled the 
 whistle-rope. The hoarse shriek seemed to startle them 
 for an instant ; they huddled closer together, and I tossed 
 the stick outwards and downwards. I had barely time 
 to see it crash through the group with the force of a 
 thunderbolt, when, with a jarring plunge, the wheels on 
 one side struck the naked ties. That part of the trouble 
 we had feared but little, as the impetus of the engine was 
 almost sure to make it mount the track again. On the 
 track again, but a few rods ahead of us, was the formid- 
 able barricade, and beyond that the yawning chasm. Joe 
 was standing up now, with eyes blazing, still holding the 
 throttle wide open, as he braced himself for the shock. 
 I had grasped the break-rod of the tender the instant I 
 threw the piece of wood. Crash — my hold didn't avail 
 me, as I was pitched head over heels against the fire-box, 
 and laid flat on my back on the foot-board or floor of 
 the eng^ine. 
 
 Joe was as suddenly jerked half around, his back 
 striking the little door in front of where he had stood, 
 breaking the door and shivering the glass to atoms. 
 But we were through ; how, we couldn't tell, except that 
 we were still on the track, and thundering over the 
 gorge. Joe's spirits rose with the occasion. Extricating 
 himself almost as suddenly as he had been deposited in 
 the little glass door, he jerked a tin flask from his pocket, 
 sprung on top of the tender, and from thence to the roof 
 
388 THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 of the cab. Steadying himself for a moment, witTi his face 
 toward the rebels, he shouted "Good-bye," made them a 
 low bow, and took a drink, perfectly regardless of the white 
 puffs of smoke, as one after another discharged their 
 pieces at him, as he afterwards explained, "the engine 
 made too much noise for him to hear the bullets, and 
 they didn't seem to be hitting anybody." 
 
 After having, in spite of sore bones, performed a jig, 
 which he had extemporized for that occasion for the 
 express edification of the rebs, Joe descended from . his 
 perch, and deliberately shutting off steam, stopped. 
 
 We were still in gight of them, though at a tolerably 
 safe distance, and now saw a group of them standing 
 near several men who had been wounded, perhaps some 
 killed, by that " irrepressible" stick of wood. 
 
 Our damages were a few bruises each, but no serious 
 hurts. Our engine suffered the loss of the pilot or cow- 
 catcher and headlight, the front of the smoke-box was 
 stove in, besides sundry dents and bruises on the brass 
 casings of the cylinders, but for running purposes 
 absolutely uninjured; the rebels having piled the logs 
 squarely across the top of the track, the point of the cow- 
 killer had gone under them, and, though broken by the 
 shock, had raised them sufficiently to keep them from 
 under the wheels, while the engine dashed them right 
 and left into the gorge. 
 
 The rebels seeing us stop, started in pursuit, but as we 
 found nothing serious to impede our further progress, and, 
 as in their case, " distance lent enchantment to the view," 
 we were off again in high spirits, and without further 
 adv^enture worth recounting, arrived safely at our desti- 
 . nation. 
 
 Poor Joe, after being shot at so often as to have 
 acquired a sovereign contempt for rebel bullets, was shot 
 dead about a year ago while running a government engine 
 near Chattanooga. 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. S89 
 
 THE GEEAT OONSPIEAOT. 
 
 Jolm Wilkes Booth was tlie projector of the plot 
 against the President, which culminated in the taking 
 of that good man's life. He had rolled under his tongue 
 the sweet paragraphs of Shakspeare referring to Brutus, 
 as his father had so well, that the old man named one 
 son Junius Brutus, and the other John Wilkes, after the 
 wild English agitator, until it became his ambition, like 
 the wicked Lorenzino de Medici, to stake his life upon 
 one stroke for fame, the murder of a ruler obnoxious to 
 the South. • 
 
 Booth shrank at first from murder, until another and 
 less dangerous resolution failed. This was no less than 
 the capture of the President's body, and its detention or 
 transportation to the South. I do not rely for this asser- 
 tion upon his sealed letter, where he avows it ; there has 
 been found upon a street within the city limits a house 
 belonging to one Mrs. Greene, mined and furnished with 
 underground apartments, furnished with manacles and 
 .all the accessories to private imprisonment. Here the 
 President, and as many as could be gagged and- conveyed 
 away with him, were to be concealed* in the event of 
 failure to run them into the Confederacy. Owing to his 
 failure to group around him as many men as he desired, 
 Booth abandoned the project of kidnapping; but the 
 house was discovered, as represented, ready to be blown 
 up at a moment's notice. 
 
 It was at this time that Booth devised his triumphal 
 route through the South. The dramatic element seems 
 to have been never lacking in his design, and with all his 
 base purposes he never failed to consider some subsequent 
 notoriety to be enjoyed. He therefore shipped, before 
 the end of 1861, his theatrical wardrobe from Canada to 
 Nassau. After the commission of his crime he intended 
 
390 THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 to reclaim it, and "star" tlirougli the South, drawing 
 many, as much by his crime as his abilities. 
 
 When Booth began, "on his own responsibility," to 
 hunt for accomplices, he found his theory at fault. The 
 bold men he had dreamed of refused to join him in the 
 rash attempt at kidnapping the President, and were too 
 conscientious to meditate murder. All those who pre- 
 sented themselves were military men, unwilling to be 
 subordinate to a civilian and a mere play actor, and the 
 mortified bravo found himself therefore compelled to sink 
 to a petty rank in the plot or to make use of base and 
 despicable assistants. His vanity found it easier to com- 
 pound with the second alternative than the first. 
 
 Here began the first resolve, which, in its mere animal 
 state, we may name courage. Booth found that a tragedy 
 in real life could no more be enacted without greasy -faced 
 and knock-kneed supernumeraries than upon the mimic 
 stage. Your "First Citizen," who swings a stave for 
 Marc Antony, and drinks hard porter behind the flies, is 
 very like the bravo of real life, who murders between his 
 cocktails at the nearest bar. Wilkes Booth had passed 
 the ordeal of a garlicky green-room, and did not shrink 
 from the broader and ranker green-room of real life. He 
 assembled around, him, one by one, the cut-throats at 
 whom his soul would have revolted, except that he had 
 become, by resolve, a cut-throat in himself. 
 
 About this time certain gentlemen in Canada began to 
 be unenviably known. I make no charges against those 
 whom I do not know, but simply say that the Confederate 
 agents, Jacob Thompson, Larry McDonald, Clement Clay, 
 and some others, had already accomplished enough villany 
 to make Wilkes Booth, on the first of the present year, 
 believe that he had but to seek an interview with them. 
 
 He visited the provinces once certainly, and three times 
 it is believed, stopping in Montreal at St. Lawrence Hall, 
 and banking four hundred and fifty-five dollars odd at 
 the Ontario Bank. This was his own monev. I have 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 391 
 
 myself seen his bank-book with the single entry of this 
 amount. It was found in the room of Atzeroth at Kirk- 
 wood's Hotel. 
 
 Some one or all of these agents furnished Booth with 
 a murderer — the fellow Wood, or Payne, who stabbed 
 Mr. Seward and was caught "at Mrs. Surratt's house in 
 Washington. He was one of three Kentucky brothers, 
 all outlaws, and had himself, it is believed, accompanied 
 one of his brothers, who is known to have been at St. 
 Albans on the day of the bank delivery. This Payne, 
 besides being positively identified as the assassin of the 
 Sewards, had no friends nor haunts in Washington. He 
 was simply a dispatched murderer, and after the night 
 of the crime struck northward for the frontier, instead 
 of. southward in the company of Booth. The proof of 
 this will follow in the course of the article. 
 
 Half applauded, half rebuffed by the rebel agents in 
 Canada, Booth's impressions of his visit were just those 
 which would whet him soonest for the tragedy. Has 
 vanity had , been fed by the assurance that success 
 depended upon himself alone, and that as he had the 
 responsibility he would absorb the fame ; and the method 
 of correspondence was of that dark and mysterious shape 
 which powerfully operated upon his dramatic tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 What could please an actor, and the son of an actor, 
 better than to mingle as a principal in a real conspiracy, 
 the aims of which were pseudo-patriotic, and the ends so 
 astounding that at its coming the whole globe would 
 reel. Booth reasoned that the ancient world would not 
 feel more sensitively the death of Julius Caesar than the 
 new, the sudden taking off of Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 And so he grew into the idea of murder. It became 
 his business thought. It was his recreation and his study. 
 He had not worked half so hard for histrionic success as for 
 his terrible graduation into an assassin. He had fought 
 often on the boards, and had seen men die in well-imitated 
 
392 THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 horror, with flowing blood upon the keen, sword's edge, 
 and the strong stride of mimic victory with which he 
 flourished his weapon at the closing of the curtain. He 
 embraced conspiracy like an old diplomatist, and found 
 in the woman and the spot subjects for emulation. 
 
 Southeast of Washington stretches a tapering peninsula/ 
 composed of four fertile counties, which at the remote tip 
 make Point Lookout, and do not contain any town within 
 them of more than a few hundred inhabitants. Tobacco 
 has ruined the land of these, and slavery has ruined the 
 people. Yet in the beginning they were of that splendid 
 stock of Calvert and Lord Baltimore, but retain to-day 
 only the religion of the peaceful founder. I mention as 
 a self-evident fact, that in this as in other States, the 
 peculiar complexion of religion had nothing whatever 
 to do with secession. The western shore of Maryland is 
 a noxious and pestilential place for patriotism. 
 
 The country immediately outside of the District of 
 Columbia, to the south, is. named Prince George's, and 
 the pleasantest village of this county, close to Washington, 
 is called Surrattsville. This consists of a few cabins at a 
 crossroad, surrounding a fine old hotel, the master whereof, 
 giving the settlement his name, left the property to his 
 wife, who for a long time carried it on with indifferent 
 success. Having a son and several daughters, she moved 
 to Washington soon after the beginning of the war, and 
 left the tavern to a trusty friend — one John Lloyd. 
 Surrattsville has gained nothing in patronage or business 
 from the war, except that it became at an early date a 
 rebel post office. The great secret mail from Matthias 
 Creek, Virginia, to Port Tobacco, struck Surrattsville, 
 and thence headed off" to the east of Washington, going 
 meanderingly north. Of this post route Mrs. Surratt was 
 a manageress ; and John Lloyd, when he rented her hotel, 
 assumed the responsibility of looking out for the mail, as 
 well as the duty of making Mrs. Surratt at home when 
 she chose to visit him. 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 393 
 
 So Surrattsville, only ten miles from Washington, has 
 been throughout the war a seat of conspiracy. It was 
 like a suburb of Richmond, reaching quite up to the 
 rival capital; and though the few Unionists on the 
 peninsula knew its reputation well enough, nothing of the 
 sort came out until after the murder. 
 
 Treason never found a better agent than Mrs. Surratt. 
 Stie was a large, masculine, self-possessed female, mistress 
 of her house, and as lithe a rebel as Belle Boyd or 
 Mrs. Greensborough. She had not the flippancy and 
 menace of the first, nor the social power of the second; 
 but the rebellion has found no fitter agent. 
 
 At her country tavern and Washington home, Booth 
 was made welcome, and there began the muttered murder 
 against the nation and maakind. 
 
 The acquaintance of Mrs. Surratt in Lower Maryland 
 I "undoubtedly suggested to Booth the route of escape, and 
 i made him known to his subsequent accomplices. Last 
 • fall he visited the entire region, as far as Leonardstown, 
 in St. Mary's County, professing to buy land, but really 
 making himself informed upon the rebel post stations, 
 with all the leading affiliations upon whom he could 
 depend. At this time he bought a map, a fellow to which 
 \ I have seen among Atzeroth's effects, published at Buffalo 
 for the Rebel Government, and marking at hap-hazard 
 all the Maryland villages, but without tracing the high- 
 roads at all. The absence of these roads, it will be seen 
 hereafter, very nearly misled Booth during his crippled 
 j flight. 
 
 When Booth cast around him for assistants, he natu- 
 j rally selected those men whom he could control. TJjp 
 ] first that recommended himself was one Harold, a youth 
 of inane and plastic character, carried awjfy by the 
 example of an actor, and full of execrable quotations, 
 going to show that he was an imitator of the master spirit, 
 both in text and admiration. This Harold was a gunner, 
 and therefore versed in arms ; he had traversed the whole 
 
394 . THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 lower portion of Maryland, and was therefore a geographer 
 as well as a tool. His friends lived at every farm-house 
 between Washington and Leonardsville, and he was 
 respectably enough connected, so as to make his associa- 
 tion creditable as well as useful. 
 
 Young Surratt does not appear to have been a puissant 
 spirit in the scheme; indeed, all design and influence 
 therein was absorbed by Mrs. Surratt and Booth. The 
 latter was the head and heart of the plot ; Mrs. Surratt 
 was his anchor, and the rest of the boys were disciples 
 to Iscariot and JezebSl. John Surratt, a youth of strong 
 Southern physiognomy, beardless and lanky, knew of the 
 murder and connived at it. "Sam" Arnold and one 
 McLaughlin were to have been parties to it, but backed 
 out in the end. They all relied upon Mrs. Surratt, and 
 took their " cues" from Wilkes Booth. 
 
 The conspiracy had its own time and kept its own 
 counsel. Murder, except among the principals, was sel- 
 dom mentioned except by genteel implication. But they 
 all publicly agreed that Mr. Lincoln ought to be shot, 
 and that the North was a race of fratricides. Much was 
 said of Brutus, and Booth repeated heroic passages, to the 
 delight of Harold, who learned them also, and wondered 
 if he was not born to greatness. 
 
 In this growing darkness, where all rehearsed cold- 
 hearted murder, Wilkes Booth grew great of stature. He 
 had found Ji purpose consonant with his evil nature and 
 bad influence over weak men ; so he grew moodier, more 
 vigilant, more plausible. By mien and temperament he 
 was born to handle a stiletto. We have no face so 
 markedly Italian ; it would stand for Caesar Borgia any 
 day in the year. All the rest were swayed or persuaded 
 by Booth ; 'his schemes were three in order : — 
 
 1st. To kidnap the President and Cabinet, and run 
 them South or blow them up. 
 
 2d. Kidnapping failed, to murder the President and 
 the rest, and seek shelter in the Confederate capital. 
 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 395 
 
 8d. The re-bellion failed, to be its avenger, and tlirow 
 the country into consternation, while he escaped by the 
 unfrequented parts of Maryland. 
 
 When this last resolution had been made, the plot was 
 both contracted and extended. There were made two 
 distinct circles of confidants, those aware of the meditated 
 murder, and those who might shrink from murder, 
 though willing accessories for a lesser object. Two col- 
 leagues for l3lood were at once accepted, Payne and 
 Atzeroth. 
 
 The former I have sketched ; he is believed to have 
 visited Washington once before, at Booth's citation ; for 
 the murder was at first fixed for the day of inauguration. 
 Atzeroth was a fellow of German descent, who had led 
 a desperate life at Port Tobacco, where he was a house 
 painter. He had been a blockade-runner across the 
 Potomac, and a mail-carrier. When Booth and Mrs. 
 Surratt broke the design to him, with a suggestion that 
 there was wealth in it, he embraced the offer at once, and 
 bought a dirk and pistol. Payne also came from the 
 North to Washington, and, as fate would have it, the 
 President was announced to appear at Ford's theatre in 
 public. Then the resolve of blood was reduced to a 
 definite moment. 
 
 On the night before the crime Booth found one on 
 whom he could rely. John Surratt was sent northward 
 by his mother on Thursday. Sam Arnold and McLaugh- 
 lin, each of whom was to kill a Cabinet officer, grew 
 j pigeon-livered and ran away. Harold, true to his par- 
 I tiality, lingered around Booth to the end ; Atzeroth went 
 j so far as to take his knife and pistol to Kirkwood's, where 
 I President Johnson was stopping, and hid them under the 
 ', bed. But either his courage failed, or a trifling accident 
 deranged his plan. But Payne, a professional murderer, 
 stood "game," and fought his way over prostrate figures 
 to his sick victim's bed. There was great confusion and 
 terror among the tacit and rash conspirators on Thursday 
 
396 THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 niglit. They liad looked upon tlie plot as of a melodrama, 
 and found to their horror that John Wilkes Booth meant 
 to do murder. 
 
 Six weeks before the murder young John Surratt had 
 taken two splendid repeating carbines to Surrattsville, and 
 told John Lloyd to secret them. The latter made a hole 
 in the wainscoting and suspended them from" strings, so 
 that they fell within the plastered Wall of the room below. 
 On the very afternoon of the murder Mrs. Surratt was 
 driven to Surrattsville, and she told John Lloyd to have 
 the carbines ready, because they would be called for that 
 night. Harold was made quartermaster, and hired the 
 horses. He and Atzeroth were mounted between eig"ht 
 o'clock and the time of the murder and riding about the 
 streets together. 
 
 The whole party was prepared for a long ride, as their 
 spurs and gauntlets show. It may have been their design 
 to ride in company to the Lower Potomac, and by their 
 numbers exact subsistence and transportation. 
 
 Lloyd, I may interpolate, ordered his wife, a few days 
 before the murder, to go on a visit to Allen's Fresh. 
 She says she does not know why she was so sent away, 
 but swears that it is so. Harold, three weeks before 
 the murder, visited Port Tobacco, and said that the next 
 time the boys heard of him he would be in Spain ; he 
 added that with Spain there was no extradition treaty. 
 He said ^t Surrattsville that he meant to' make a barrel 
 of money, or his neck would stretch. 
 
 Atzeroth said that if he ever came to Port Tobacco 
 again he would be rich enough to buy the whole place. 
 
 Wilkes Booth told a friend to go to Ford's on Friday 
 night and see the best acting in the world. 
 
 At Ford's theatre, on^ Friday night, there were many 
 standers in the neighborhood of the door, and along the 
 dress circle in the direction of the private box where the 
 President sat. 
 
 The play went on pleasantly, though Mr. Wilkes 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 39t 
 
 Booth, an observer of the audience; visited the stage and 
 took note of the position. His alleged associate, the 
 stage carpenter, then received quiet orders to clear the 
 passage by the wings from the prompter's post to the 
 stage door. All this time, Mr. Lincoln, in his family- 
 circle, unconscious of the death that crowded fast upon 
 him, witnessed the pleasantry and smiled, and felt heart- 
 ful of gentleness. 
 
 Suddenly there was a murmur near the audience door, 
 as of a man speaking above his bound. He said : — 
 
 " Nine o'clock and forty-five minutes !" 
 
 These words were reiterated from mouth to mouth 
 until they passed the theatre door, and were heard upon 
 the sidewalk. 
 
 Directly a voice cried, in the same slightly raised 
 monotone — 
 
 " Nine o'clock and fifty minutes !" 
 
 This also passed from man to man, until it touched the 
 street like a shudder. 
 
 " Nine o'clock and fifty-five minutes !" said the same 
 relentless voice, after the next interval, each of which 
 narrowed to a lesser span the life of the good President. 
 
 Ten o'clock here sounded, and conspiring echo said in 
 reverberation — 
 
 '' Ten o'clock !" 
 
 So like a creeping thing, from lip to lip went — 
 
 " Ten o'clock and five minutes !" 
 
 An interval. 
 
 " Ten o'clock and ten minutes !" 
 
 At this instant Wilkes Booth appeared in the door of 
 the theatre, and the men who had repeated the time so 
 faithfully and so ominously, scattered at his coming as at 
 some warning phantom. 
 
 All this is so dramatic that I fear to excite a laugh 
 when I write it. But it is true and proven, and I do not 
 say it, but report it. 
 
 All evil deeds go wrong. While the click of the 
 
398 ^ THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 pistol, taking the President's life, went like a pang through 
 the theatre, Payne was spilling blood in Mr. Seward's 
 house from threshold to sick chamber. But Booth's 
 broken leg delayed him or made him lose his general 
 calmness, and he and Harold left Payne to his fate. 
 
 I have not adverted to the hole bored with a gimlet in 
 the entry door of Mr. Lincoln's box and cut out with a 
 penknife. The theory that the pistol-ball of Booth passed 
 through this hole is now exploded. When Booth leaped 
 from the box he strode straight across the stage by the foot- 
 lights, reaching the prompter's post, which is immediately 
 behind that private box opposite to Mr. Lincoln. From 
 this box to the stage door in the rear, the passage-way leads 
 behind the ends of the scenes, and is generally either 
 closed up by one or more withdrawn scenes, or so narrow 
 that only by doubling and turning sidewise can one pass 
 along. On this fearful night, however, the scenes were so 
 adjusted to the murderer's design that he had a free aisle 
 from the foot of the stage to the exit door. 
 
 Within fifteen minutes after the murder the wires were 
 severed entirely round the city, excepting only a secret 
 wire for Grovernment uses, which leads to Old Point. I 
 am told that by this wire the Government reached the for- 
 tifications around Washington, first telegraphing all the 
 way to Old Point, and then back to the out-lying forts. 
 This information comes to me from so many credible 
 channels that I must concede it. 
 
 Payne having, as he thought, made an end of Mr. 
 Seward, which would have been the case but for Robin- 
 son, the nurse, mounted his horse and attempted to find 
 Booth. But the town was in alarm, and he galloped at 
 once for the open country, taking, as he imagined, the 
 proper road for the East Branch. He rode at a killing 
 pace, and when near Port Lincoln, on the Baltimore pike, 
 his horse threw him headlong. Afoot and bewildered, he 
 resolved to return to the city, whose lights he could 
 plainly see; but before doing so he concealed himself 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 399 
 
 some time, and made some almost absard efforts to dis- 
 guise himself. Cutting a cross section from the woollen 
 undershirt which covered his muscular arm, he made a 
 rude cap of it, and threw away his bloody coat. This has 
 since been found in the woods, and blood has been found 
 also on his bosom and sleeves. He also spattered himself 
 plentifully with mud and clay, and taking an abandoned 
 pick from the deserted intrenchments near by, he struck 
 out at once for Washington. 
 
 By the providence which always attends murder, he 
 reached Mrs. Surratt's door just as the officers of the 
 Government were arresting her. They seized Payne at 
 once, who had an awkward lie to uxge in his defence — 
 that he had come there to dig a trench. That night he 
 dug a trench deep and broad enough for both of them to 
 lie in forever. They washed his hands, and found them 
 soft and womanish ; his pockets contained tooth and nail 
 brushes, and a delicate pocket-knife. All this apparel 
 consorted ill with his assumed character. 
 
 Coarse, and hard, and calm, Mrs. Surratt shut up her 
 house after the murder, and waited with her daughters 
 till the offi-cers came. She was impertiirbable, and 
 rebuked her girls for weeping, and would have gone to 
 jail like a statue, but that in her extremity Payne knocked 
 at her door. He had come, he said, to dig a ditch for 
 Mrs. Surratt, whom he very well knew. But Mrs. Sur- 
 ratt protested that she had never seen the man at all, and 
 had no ditch to clean. 
 
 "How fortunate, girls," she said, "that these officers 
 are here ; this man might have murdered us all." 
 
 Her effrontery stamps her as worth}^ of companionship 
 with Booth. Payne has been identified by a lodger of 
 Mrs. Surratt's as having twice visited the house under 
 the name of Wood. 
 
 Atzeroth had a room almost directly over Yice-Presi- 
 dent Johnson's. He had all the materials to do murder, 
 but lost spirit or opportunity. He ran away so hastily 
 
400 THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 that all his ^arms and baggage were discovered; a 
 tremendous bowie-knife and a Colt's cavalry revolver 
 were found between the mattresses of his bed. Booth's 
 coat was also found there, showing conspired flight in 
 company, and in it three boxes of cartridges, a map of 
 Maryland, gauntlets for riding, a spur, and a handkerchief 
 marked with the name of Booth's mother — a mother's 
 souvenir for a murderer's pocket. 
 
 Atzeroth fled alone, and was found at the house of his 
 uncle, in Montgomery County, Md. I do not know that 
 any instrument of murder has ever made me thrill as 
 when I drew his terrible bowie-knife from its sheath. 
 
 I come now to the ride out of the city by the chief 
 assassin and his cfupe. Harold met Booth immediately 
 after the crime in the next street, and they rode at a 
 gallop past the Patent Office and over Capitol Hill. 
 
 As they crossed the Eastern Branch at Uniontown, 
 Booth gave his proper name to the officer at the bridge. 
 This, which would seem to have been foolish, was, in 
 reality, very shrewd. The officers believed that one of 
 Booth's accomplices had given this name in order to 
 put them out of the real Booth's track. So they made 
 efforts elsewhere, and Booth got a start. At midnight, 
 precisely, the two horsemen stopped at Surrattsville, 
 Booth remaining on his nag while Harold descended and 
 knocked lustily at the door. Lloyd, the landlord, came 
 down at once, when Harold pushed past him into the bar, 
 and obtained a bottle of whiskey, some of which he gave 
 to Booth immediately. While Booth was drinking, 
 Harold went up stairs and brought down one of the car- 
 bines. Lloyd started to get the other, but Harold said : — 
 
 " We don't want it ; Booth has broken his leg and can't 
 carry it." 
 
 So the second carbine remained in the hall, where the 
 officers afterwards found it. 
 
 As the two horsemen started to go off. Booth cried out 
 to Lloyd — 
 
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 401 
 
 " Don't jou want to hear some news ?" 
 
 " I don't care much about it," cried Llojd, by his own 
 account. 
 
 " We have murdered," said Booth, " the President and 
 Secretary of State." 
 
 And, with this horrible confession, Booth and Harold 
 dashed away in the midnight, across Prince George's 
 County. 
 
 On Saturday, before sunrise, Booth and Harold, who 
 had ridden all night without stopping elsewhere, reached 
 the house of Dr. Mudd, three miles from Bryantown. 
 They contracted with him for twenty-five dollars in 
 greenbacks to set the broken leg. Harold, who knew 
 Dr. Mudd, introduced Booth under another name, and 
 stated that he had fallen from his horse during the night. 
 The doctor remarked of Booth that he draped the lower 
 part of his face while the leg was being set ; he was silent, 
 and in pain. Having no splints in the- house, they split 
 up an old fashioned wooden band-box and prepared them. 
 The doctor was assisted by an Englishman, who at the 
 same time began to hew out a pair of crutches. The 
 inferior bone of the left leg was broken vertically across, 
 and because vertically it did not yield when the crippled 
 man walked upon it. 
 
 The riding boot of Booth had to be cut from his foot ; 
 within were the words ''J. Wilkes." The doctor says 
 he did not notice these. The two men waited around 
 the house all day, but towards evening they slipped their 
 horses from the stable and rode away in the direction of 
 Allen's Fresh. 
 
 Below Ervantown runs certain deep and slimy swamps. 
 Along the belt of these Booth and Harold picked up a 
 negro named Swan, who volunteered to show them the 
 road for two dollars. They gave him five more to show 
 them the route to Allen's Fresh ; but really wished, as 
 their actions intimated, to gain the house of one Sam 
 Coxe, a notorious rebel, and probably well-advised of the 
 26 
 
402 THE GREAT CONSPIRACY. 
 
 plot. They reached the house at midnight. It is a fine 
 dwelling, one of the best in Maryland ; and after halloo- 
 ing for some time, Coxe came down to the door himself. 
 As soon as he opened it, and beheld who the strangers 
 were, he instantly blew ont the candle he held in his 
 hand, and, without a word, pulled them into the room, the 
 negro remaining in the yard. The Confederates remained 
 in Coxe's house till 4 A. M., during which time the negro 
 saw them eat and drink heartily ; but when they reap- 
 peared they spoke in a loud tone, so that Swan could 
 hear them, against the hospitality of Coxe. All this was 
 meant to influence the darkey ; but their motives were 
 as apparent as their words. He conducted them three 
 miles further on, when they told him that now they knew 
 the way, and giving him five dollars more, making twelve 
 in all, told him to go back. 
 
 But when the negro, in the dusk of the morning, looked 
 after them as he receded, he saw that both horses' heads 
 were turned once more towards Coxe's, and it was this 
 man, doubtless, who harbored the fugitives from Sunday 
 to Thursday, aided, possibly, by such neighbors as the 
 Wilsons and Adamses. 
 
 At the point where Booth crossed the Potomac the 
 shores are very shallow, and one must wade out some 
 distance to where a boat will float. A white man came 
 up here with a canoe on Friday, and tied it by a stone 
 anchor. Between seven and eight o'clock it disappeared, 
 and in the afternoon some men at work on Methxy Creek, 
 in Virginia, saw Booth and Harold land, tie the boat's 
 rope to a stone and fling it ashore, and strike at once 
 across a ploughed field for King George Court House. 
 Many folks entertained them, without doubt, but we 
 positively hear of them next at Port Koyal Ferry, and 
 then at Garrett's farm. 
 
 Elsewhere we give an account of their final capture 
 
ASSASSINATION OP PRESIDENT LINCOLN. .403 
 
 ASSASSIIIATIOIT OP PEESIDENT UNOOM. 
 
 Tlie assassin, only tliirtj-three years of age, was the 
 youngest son of the elder Booth, and next in order of 
 birth to his distinguished brother Edwin. He was born 
 on his father's farm near Baltimore, and is thus a Mary- 
 lander. Like his two brothers, Edwin and Junius Brutus, 
 he inherited and early manifested a predilection for the 
 stage, and is well known to theatre-goers and the public 
 generally as a very line-looking young man, but as an 
 actor of more promise than performance. 
 
 He is best remembered, perhaps, in "Eichard," which 
 he played closely after his father's conception of that 
 character, and by his admirers was considered superior 
 to the elder Booth. He was quite popular in the Western 
 and Southern cities, and his last extended engagement 
 was, we believe, in Chicago. 
 
 We have heard excellent actors say — and actors are 
 not over apt to praise each other — that he had inherited 
 some of the most brilliant qualities of his father's genius. 
 But, of late, an apparently incurable bronchial affection 
 has made almost every engagement a failure. The papers 
 and critics have apologized for his "hoarseness," but it 
 has long been known by his friends that he would be 
 compelled to abandon the stage. 
 
 During the last two months he had seemed to be com- 
 pletely absorbed in some project, which none of his 
 friends could fathom. In the midst of associates he would 
 frequently remain silent ; or, if conversing, would talk in 
 a pointless way, as if thinking of some great trouble. 
 
 On the 4th of March his conduct was particularly 
 noticed as being unusually strange. 
 
 During the morning, his nervous actions attracted con- 
 siderable attention among his acquaintances, from among 
 whom he suddenly disappeared, and was not seen again 
 until a friend found him standing on an embankment at 
 
404 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 
 
 tlie nortli wing of the capitol, near which spot the Presi- 
 dent would necessarily pass. 
 
 Booth was dressed in a slouch suit, with his pants 
 tucked into the tops of his boots, and an old felt hat 
 drawn over his face. His friend hailed him two or three 
 times, receiving no reply, and finally went up where 
 Booth was standing, when the latter for the first time mani- 
 fested his recognition of the gentleman, his manner 
 conveying an impression that he did not wish to be 
 recognized. 
 
 As the President passed, he turned away with his 
 friend as if disappointed by the absence of some one, and 
 preserved throughout the day a moody silence. 
 
 On Friday last he was about the National Hotel as 
 usual, and strolled up and down the Avenue several 
 times. During one of the strolls he stopped at the Kirk- 
 wood House, and sent in to Yice-President Johnson a 
 card, upon which was written : " I do not wish to dis- 
 turb you. Are you in ? J. "Wilkes Booth." 
 
 A gentleman of Booth's acquaintance at this time met 
 him in front of the Kirk wood House, and in the conver- 
 sation which followed made some allusion to Booth's 
 business, and in a jesting way asked, "■ What made him so 
 gloomy? had he lost another thousand in oil?" 
 
 Booth replied that he had lost considerably by the 
 freshet ; that he had been hard at work that day, and was 
 about to leave Washington never to return. 
 
 Just then a boy came out and said to Booths " Yes, he 
 is in his room." 
 
 ' Upon which the gentleman walked on, supposing Booth 
 would enter the hotel. 
 
 About seven o'clock on Friday evening, he came down 
 from his room at the National, and was spoken to by 
 several concerning his paleness, which he said proceeded 
 from indisposition. Just before leaving he asked the 
 clerk if he was not going to Ford's theatre, and added, 
 " There will he some very fine acting -there to-night." 
 
ASSASSINATION Or PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 405 
 
 r 
 
 Mr. Sessford, ticket agent at the theatre, noticed Booth 
 as he passed in, and shortly after the latter entered the 
 restaurant next to the theatre and in a hurried manner 
 called for " Brandy 1 hrandy ! hrandy F rapping at. the 
 same time on the bar. 
 
 Captain Theodore McGowan, A. A. G. to Gen. Augur, 
 states that he was at the theatre on the night in question. 
 Arriving there, said he, just after the entrance of Presi- 
 dent Lincoln and the party accompanying him, my friend, 
 Lieutenant Crawford, and I, after viewing the presidential 
 party from the opposite side of the dress circle, went to 
 the right side, and took seats in the passage above the 
 seats of the dress circle, and about five feet from the door 
 of the box occupied by President Lincoln. During the 
 performance the attendant of the Pi'esident came out and 
 took the chair nearest the door. I sat, and had been sit- 
 ting about four feet to his left and rear for some time. 
 
 I remember that a man, whose face I do not distinctly 
 recollect, passed me and inquired of one sitting near who 
 the President's messenger was, and learning, exhibited to 
 him an envelope, apparently of&cial, having a printed 
 heading and superscribed in a bold hand ; I could not 
 read the address, and did not try. I think now it was 
 meant for Lieutenant-General Grant. That man went 
 away. 
 
 Some time aft^r I was disturbed in my seat by the 
 approach of a man who desired to pass up on the aisle in 
 which I was'^sitting. Giving him room by bending my 
 chair forward he passed me, and stepped one step down 
 upon the level below me. Standing there, he was almost 
 in my line of sight, and I saw him while watching the 
 play. He stood, as I remember, one step above the mes- 
 senger, and remained perhaps one minute looking at -the 
 stage and orchestra below. 
 
 Then he drew a number of visiting cards from his 
 pocket, from which, with some attention, he drew or 
 selected one. These things I saw distinctly. I saw him 
 
 i 
 
\ 
 
 406 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 
 
 stoop, and, I think, descend to the level with the mes- 
 senger, and by his right side. He showed the card to the 
 messenger, and as my attention was then more closely 
 fixed npon the play, I do not know whether the card was 
 carried in by the messenger, or his consent given to the 
 entrance of the man who presented it. 
 
 I saw, a few moments after, the same man entering the 
 door of the lobby, leading to the box, and the door clos- 
 ing behind him. This was seen, because I could not fail 
 from my position to observe it ; the door side of the pro- 
 scenium box and the stage were all within the direct and 
 oblique lines of my sight. How long I watched the play 
 after entering I do not know. 
 
 It was, perhaps, two or three minutes, possibly four. 
 The house was perfectly still, the large audience listening 
 to the dialogue between " Florence Trenchard" and " May 
 Meredith," when the sharp report of a pistol rang through 
 the house. It was apparently fired behind the scenes, 
 on the right of the stage. Looking towards it and behind 
 the presidential box, while it started all, it was evidently 
 accepted by every one in the theatre as an introduction 
 to some new passage, several of which had been inter- 
 polated in the early part of the play. A moment after, 
 a man leaped from the front of the box directly down, 
 nine feet, and on the stage, and ran rapidly across it, bare- 
 headed, holding an unsheathed dagger in his right hand, 
 the blade of which flashed brightly in the gas-light as he 
 came within ten feet of the opposite rear exit. I did not 
 see his face as he leaped or ran, but I am convinced that 
 he was the man I saw enter. As he leaped he cried dis- 
 tinctly the motto of Virginia, " Sic semper tyrannis /" 
 
 The hearing of this and the sight of the dagger 
 explained fully to me the nature of the deed he had 
 committed. In an instant he had disappeared behind 
 the side-scene. Consternation seemed for a moment to 
 rivet every one to his seat, the next moment confusion 
 reigned supreme. I saw the features of the man dis- 
 
ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 40*1 
 
 tinctlj before he entered the box, having surveyed him 
 contemptuously at that time, supposing him to be an 
 ill-bred fellow who was pressing a selfish matter upon 
 the President in his hours of leisure. 
 
 The screams of Mrs. Lincoln first disclosed the fact- to 
 the audience that the President had been shot ; then all 
 present rose to their feet, rushing towards the stage, many 
 exclaiming, " Hang him ! hang him 1" 
 
 The excitement was one of the wildest possible descrip- 
 
 ; tion, and of course there was an abrupt termination of the 
 theatrical performance. 
 
 There was a rush towards the presidential .box, when 
 cries were heard, " Stand back !" i' Give him air !" " Has 
 any one stimulants?" On a hasty examination it was 
 found that the President had been shot through the head 
 
 ' above and back of the temporal bone, and that some of 
 
 I the brain was oozing out. 
 
 • He was removed to a private house opposite to the 
 theatre, and the Surgeon General of the Army and other 
 
 I surgeons were sent for to attend to his condition. 
 i On an examination of the private box, blood was dis- 
 ( covered on the back of the cushioned rocking-chair on 
 I which the President had been sitting, also on the parti- 
 
 * tion and on the floor. A common single-barrelled pocket- 
 ! pistol was found on the carpet. 
 
 ] A military guard was. placed in front of the private 
 residence to which the President had been conveyed. 
 
 An immense crowd gathered in front of it, all deeply 
 anxious to learn the condition of the President. It had 
 been previously announced that the wound was mortal, 
 but all hoped otherwise. The shock to the community 
 was terrible. 
 
 This was on the night of Friday, April 14, 1865. The 
 next morning at twenty minutes past seven o'clock the 
 President breathed his last, closing his eyes as if falling 
 asleep, and his countenance assumed an expression of 
 perfect serenity. There were no indications of pain, and 
 
408 THE EVACUATION OF RICHMOND. 
 
 it was not known he was dead until tlie gradually 
 decreasing respiration ceased altogether. 
 
 THE EVACUATION OP EIOHMOND. 
 
 The scene in the city during the conflagration is said 
 to have been perfectly appalling. The sound of bursting 
 shells in the Government arsenals, the roar of the flames, 
 the volcano-like eruptions caused by the upheaval of 
 immense masses of debris through the explosion of poAV- 
 der in the laboratory, arsenals/ and adjoining storehouses, 
 the dense masses- of smoke, the shrieks and yells of the 
 populace, combined to make such an impression as can 
 never be effaced from the memory of any one who wit- 
 nessed the fearful scene. Over the Bank of Virginia a 
 handsome Confederate flag floated, sometimes concealed 
 by the clouds of smoke, at other times standing out 
 against a clear sky over the leaping flames th^t vainly 
 sought to gather it within their embrace ; and only when 
 the massive walls of the structure fell in did the defiant 
 emblem sink into the crater beneath. There were but 
 few flags flying when the Union troops entered, but 
 shortly afterwards a great deal of star-spangled banner 
 patched the sky, and it would seem, if the view in the 
 perspective be any evidence, that, as judged by the 
 amount of Federal bunting, Eichmond must be a very 
 "loyal" city. But three other "rebel" ensigns, beside 
 that I have alluded to, I am informed, were visible at the 
 time of the occupation of the city by the Federal soldiery. 
 
 ISTone of the buildings on Capitol Square were burned, 
 although the structure used as the of&ce of the Confederate 
 War Department, directly opposite the capitol, was 
 destroyed. St. Paul's Church, which stands on Ninth 
 Street, next to the site of the War Department building, 
 is untouched. In this church President Davis was sitting 
 at the time General Lee's telegram announcing the turn- 
 
THE EVACUATION OF RICHMOND. 409 
 
 ing of the Confederate right on the White Oak Eoad was 
 received. The clergyman had nearly finished his sermon 
 when an orderly entered the chnrch, passed straight to 
 the President's pew, and handed to him the fatal dispatch. 
 Mr. Davis immediately proceeded to the "War Department, 
 thence to the capitol, and thence to the Eichmond and 
 Danville Eailroad depot, where he made the necessary 
 preparations for the conveyance of his family to a place 
 of safety. He remained in the city until near nightfall, 
 when he left in the 5.30 train. Much of his household 
 and personal property was sent away several weeks since, 
 and when he took his final departure from Eichmond he 
 had very little baggage with him. 
 
 The success of the Federals on their left wing was 
 made known to the entire population of Eichmond within 
 an hour from the time that Mr. Davis received the news, 
 and from this moment until the occupation of the city by 
 the United States soldiery, incessant and indescribable 
 confusion prevailed. During the forenoon of Sunday the 
 town had been unusually quiet, the movement of scattered 
 detachments of troops alone marring the stillness of the 
 day. A little after noon people began to congregate in 
 the streets, and knots grew rapidly in all the corners, 
 crossings, and sidewalks. Soon carts, trucks, drays, hay- 
 ricks, ambulances, army wagons, vehicles, in short, of all 
 descriptions, loaded with household goods and Govern- 
 ment stores, began to pour out of the alleys and by-ways 
 into the main thoroughfares, and even on towards the 
 South Side, the Government wagons proceeding directly 
 to the Danville depot. The alarm spread, and thousands 
 of excited individuals with arms full of' property of all 
 portable sorts, rushed headlong toward the vital avenue 
 of escape. These were the persons who had determined 
 to cast their fortunes with the Confederate Government, 
 and hoped to save something, if only a little, from the 
 general wreck. Others took the matter more coolly; 
 unable or unwilling to move, or having nothing to save, 
 
410 THE EVACUATION OF RICHMOND. 
 
 they preferred to trust to the mercies of the Northern 
 soldiers. 
 
 All that hot Sunday afternoon the streets were filled 
 with gangs of negroes carrying bundles and boxes/ articles 
 of every imaginable character that might be transported 
 on the shoulders or heads of men, rushing hither and 
 thither, and adding to the general tremendous confusion 
 by an incessant chorus of witless yells and outcries. The 
 better class of the Eichmond white population acted with 
 what seemed, under the circumstances, extraordinary 
 calmness, for, although they had expected the evacuation, 
 they had, one and all, fondly hoped, even against hope, 
 that they might be spared the last crushing humiliation 
 of giving up the city their friends and brethren in the 
 trenches had so long and gallantly protected. Nobody 
 went to bed on Sunday night. The streets were filled 
 with masses of armed men, with long lines of Government 
 wagons, with hurrying citizens and laboring negroes, 
 while the tumult was incessant. Long trains were con- 
 stantly departing over the Danville Koad, and the shrill 
 shriek of the locomotive whistle was almost continuous 
 from night until morning. At the commissary depot, 
 situated at the head of the Governmeut dock, heavy 
 detachments of men were hard at work from two o'clock 
 on Sunday afternoon until six o'clock on Monday morning, 
 filling hundreds upon hundreds of Government wagons 
 with the stores provided for the great armies of Lee ; and 
 a throng of men and women carrying baskets, pots, pans, 
 and untensils of all sorts, surrounded the buildings, 
 waiting in frantic eagerness for the signal to help them- 
 selves. 
 
 The banks were open all night and crowded with 
 depositors, anxiously waiting their turn to withdraw their 
 specie ; and closely guarded vans were loaded both here 
 and at the Treasury building, with the Government 
 bullion, to be transported over the Danville Eoad. 
 Millions of dollars in Confederate and State notes were 
 
ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRETARY SEWARD. 411 
 
 cast into tlie streets, cut to pieces bj order of the Govern- 
 ment officials and bank directors ; while bales of unsigned 
 notes were scattered broadcast all about the Treasury 
 building. There was nothing like the indiscriminate 
 plundering which might have been expected in a city left 
 to the care of its most lawless population. It is true that 
 many persons amassed sudden wealth through their 
 efforts in " saving" the goods devoted to destruction by 
 the flames; but this property will, in many instances, 
 ultimately be restored to its owners. The Confederate 
 authorities adopted one very wise precaution against 
 robbery and pillage. They effectually prevented general 
 drunkenness and riot by destroying all the commissary 
 whiskey in the city. At the depot in the Government 
 dock two thousand barrels were turned into the river 
 early on the morning of Monday; and at other places 
 igreat quantities of liquor were thrown upon the ground. 
 
 ( 
 
 I ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OP SEOEETAET SEWAED. 
 
 i 
 
 At nine o'olock on the evening of the fourteenth of 
 |April, 1865, says Dr. Yerdi, his family physician, I had 
 deft Secretary Seward in a comfortable condition, and his 
 family hopeful of his speedy recovery from an accident 
 "which he, several days previously, had met with, his 
 Ihorses having run away and dashed him from the car- 
 Iriage, fracturing his right humerus at the surgical neck, 
 jhis lower maxillary below the angle, and generally 
 ibruising him about the face and neck. At a few minutes 
 kfter ten P. M., I was hastily summoned by the colored 
 jboy to attend Mr. Seward, his sons, and his attendants, 
 who were, as the messenger expressed it, " murdered by 
 fLYL assassin." Two minutes brought me to the spot. I 
 <was the first medical man there. As I glanced around 
 the room I found terror depicted on every countenance; 
 
412 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRETARY SEWARD. 
 
 and blood everywhere. Among the bleeding men and 
 terrified ladies I sought for Mr. Seward. 
 
 He was lying in his bed, covered with blood, a fearful 
 gasping gash marking his chin and extending below the 
 maxillary bone. His, probably, was the only countenance 
 that did not express fear. Hastily I examined his wounds, 
 and I had the joy to bring the first consolation to that 
 anxious family, in announcing to them that his wounds 
 were not mortal. The carotid artery and jugular vein had 
 not been divided or injured. The gash was semicircular, 
 commencing just below the high bone of the cheek, and 
 extending downward toward the mouth, and then back- 
 ward over the submaxillary gland, laying open the 
 inflamed and swollen part of the face and neck, that 
 had been injured by his previous accident. On exa- 
 mining further, I found another stab under the left 
 ear, wounding the parotid gland ; but this cut, however, 
 was not very deep. /Mr. Seward had lost much blood, 
 and I immediately applied ice, to arrest the bleeding 
 temporarily; after which I was informed that Frederick 
 Seward was in an adjacent room, also injured. I hastily 
 went to him and found him lying on a lounge, with blood 
 streaming over his face. He had been wounded in seve- 
 ral places, viz. : on the left parietal bone, just about the 
 '' parietal eminence" on the left side of the frontal bone, 
 just about the line of intersection with the parietal ; with 
 two other light' wounds in that neighborhood. 
 
 The injury on the parietal eminence had evidently 
 crushed the bone, as osseous spiculae were taken out ; but 
 it appeared, however, that the internal table, even if 
 fractured, was not depressed. He was not insensible, 
 but could not articulate. In about an hour, however, 
 after his wounds were dressed he fell into a slumber 
 from which for sixty hours he could not be aroused. I 
 had scarcely finished applying ice to arrest the hemor- 
 rhage when I was told to look at Mr. Augustus Seward. 
 I became truly amazed. " What !" said I, " is there 
 
Attempted assassination of secretary seward. 413 
 
 another one wounded?" His injuries, however, were 
 comparatively light. One was from a blow with the 
 butt-end of a pistol, on the upper and middle part of the 
 forehead ; the other a cut" over the metacarpal bone of 
 the thumb of his right hand. Here I was again requested 
 to look at another man. My surprise ceased then; I 
 became terrified. This was the man nurse, a soldier in 
 attendance on Mr. Seward. I found his wounds were 
 four in number, all from the blade of a knife — three 'over 
 the right scapular region, and one below it. It was evi- 
 dent, after a careful examination, that the scapula pre- 
 vented the penetration of the frightful weapon into the 
 chest. After giving to this patient the requisite attend- 
 ance, I was called to see another man who was wounded. 
 He had received but one stab in the back over the seventh 
 rib, very near the spinal column. The knife must have 
 glanced off, as this cut was long but quite superficial ; 
 had it been direct, his right lung wonld have received an 
 irreparable injury. 
 
 Such is the scene that presented itself. Kow I will 
 relate to you the circumstances I gathered in this horrible 
 attempt at assassination. 
 
 I At ten o'clock the bell at Mr. Seward's house was 
 rung, and answered by the* colored boy. As the door 
 'openedj a very tall man appeared, with a small package 
 jin his hand, saying that Dr. Yerdi had sent him with a 
 Iprescription for Secretary Seward, which he must deliver 
 jpersonally. The boy remonstrated with the man, saying 
 Ithat Mr. Seward was asleep, and that he, the servant, 
 iwould take charge of the prescription. The man said, 
 l"No, I have particular directions, and I must deliver 
 ithem myself." So saying, he walked up stairs; but 
 treading very heavily, he was reminded by the boy, who 
 \wsis following him, to walk more lightly, in order not to 
 ^disturb Mr. Seward. 
 
 Mr. Frederick Seward was at this time lying, dressed, 
 n a sofa in his room, one adjacent to his father's, and 
 
 I 
 
414 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRETARY SEWARD. 
 
 hearing heavy footsteps, came into the hall, and met the 
 stranger, who attempted to enter his father's room. 
 Frederick expostulated with him, declaring that his father 
 was asleep and could not be seen. Evidently the young 
 man saw mischief in the face of the assassin. Miss 
 Fanny Seward, who was in her father's room, bearing the 
 conversation outside, opened the door to ascertain what 
 was the matter ; but Frederick cried out to her to " shut 
 the door." It seems that for two or three- minutes the 
 assassin hesitated, or endeavored to enter without making 
 a deadly assault upon Frederick; but meeting with 
 determined opposition, he dealt several blows on young 
 Seward's head, apparently with a pistol, with the inten- 
 tion probably of disabling without killing him. 
 
 The door was then opened, and the murderer entered, 
 pushing Frederick, already staggering, before him ; then 
 disengaging himself from his adversary, he asked Miss 
 Fanny, "Is the Secretary asleep?" — at the same moment 
 making a spring for the bed, where the unfortunate man 
 sat, aroused with the frightful conviction of what was to 
 be expected. The next moment the villain dealt him a 
 blow with the deadly knife, which was so violent that 
 (fortunately, we may say) it precipitated him from his 
 bed. In falling, however, he must have received the 
 second blow on the other side of the neck. It must have 
 been at this timq, that the man nurse (having been absent 
 at the hospital) returned and attacked the murderer, to 
 prevent him from doing further injury to Mr. Seward. 
 In the endeavor to restrain the ferocity of the assassin, 
 the nurse was struck several times, as described above. 
 
 It was at this moment that the nurse and Frederick, 
 who rallied sufficiently to still use his feeble efforts in 
 behalf of his poor father, were struggling with this man, 
 that Major Augustus Seward, awakened from sleep by 
 the noise and screams of Miss Fanny, came into the room, 
 thinking that probably his father was delirious, and had 
 frightened the attendants, or else that the nurse left to 
 
ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OP SECRETARY SEWARD. 415 
 
 watch during tlie night was in some way misbehaving 
 himself. The major, seeing the struggle, and not at all 
 comprehending the facts, took hold of the man, believing 
 him still to be the nurse, and dragged him to the door. 
 Of course the assassin took advantage of this, and dealing 
 one blow on the head of the major, making, however, but 
 a slight wound, and cutting his hand, as aforesaid, ran 
 down stairs, followed by the major, who did not know 
 the condition of affairs until he came back to his father's 
 room. The assassin then mounted his horse, which he 
 had left before the door, and rode rapidly away. 
 
 There are three peculiar features to this case : First, 
 had Frederick Seward said to his sister " Lock the door," 
 instead of " Shut the door," the assassin might never have 
 been able to enter the Secretary's room. Second, had 
 Augustus Seward understood that the man was an assassin 
 attempting to murder his father, he would never have 
 allowed him to escape, or perchance might have precipi- 
 tated him down stairs, and then attempted to disable and 
 arrest him. The third is this : The boy who followed 
 the wretch up stairs, soon hearing that he was making 
 an attack on Mr. Frederick, ran out, calling " Watch !" 
 and " Murder !" and went as far as the corner of the street, 
 •only fifty yards distant, where there was a sentry on duty ; 
 the terrified lad told the sentry to hasten to the house, 
 that there was an assassin attempting the lives of the 
 family ; but the sentry did not heed the boy, or thought 
 he could not leave his post ; else he would have been in 
 time to present his bayonet to the flying assassin, and 
 could have secured or killed him. * * * * 
 
 Thus ended that horrible tragedy, which took one- 
 hundredth part less of time in perpetrating than my weak 
 attempt at its relation. 
 
 The following is a detailed account of the circumstances 
 Tinder which the assassin was arrested. 
 
 For several days it had been noticed that a number 
 of suspicious persons were in the habit of going into a 
 
416 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRETARY SEWARD. 
 
 certain house in the very heart of the city of Washington, 
 and changing their clothes. One evening information was 
 received about ten o'clock, by the military authorities, 
 that the house was occupied by Mrs. Surratt, the mother 
 of John H. Surratt, implicated as an accomplice in the 
 recent terrible tragedies, and that the occupants of the 
 house could furnish valuable information in regard to 
 the parties charged with complicity in the murder of the 
 President. Colonel Wells, Provost Marshal, ordered the 
 arrest of these parties. Major H. W. Smith, of General 
 Augur's staff, and Captain Wurmerskirch, assistant of 
 Colonel Olcott, special commissioner of the War Depart- 
 ment, were charged with the execution of this duty. 
 
 These officers reached the house about half-past ten 
 o'clock, and arrested Mrs. M. E. Surratt and Miss Anna 
 Surratt, mother and sister of John H. Surratt, and Miss 
 Honora Fitzpatrick and a Miss Holahan. Soon after- 
 wards Mr. E. C. Morgan, assistant of Colonel Olcott, 
 arrived, and proceeded to search the house, examine 
 papers, etc. Abundant evidences were discovered of the 
 deep sympathy of the occupants with the rebel cause, and 
 also of their intimacy. and very recent communication 
 with J. Wilkes Booth, the murderer. The ladies arrested 
 were each examined separately, and subsequently sent in 
 charge of officers Rosh and Devoe to General Augur's 
 headquarters for further examination. The information 
 obtained from them was so unsatisfactory and contradic- 
 tory that the four were finally sent to the Old Capitol 
 prison until they were ready to testify more clearly and 
 consistently. 
 
 Just as the ladies were preparing to leave the house, 
 there was a light knock at the front door. It was opened 
 by Major Morgan, Major Smith and Captain Wermer- 
 skirch standing by, with their pistols ready to be used if 
 necessary. At the door was a young looking man, about 
 five feet eleven inches in stature, light complexion, with 
 peculiarly large gray eyes, and hair that had evidently 
 
ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRETARY SEWARD. 4 IT 
 
 been dyed. He wore a gray cassimere coat and vest, 
 fine black cloth pantaloons, and fine boots. His boots 
 and pantaloons were covered with mud almost to the 
 knees, and his whole appearance was that of one who had 
 been lying out in the rain. He had a pickaxe on his 
 shoulder. When the door was opened the visitor ex- 
 . claimed,- "I believe I am mistaken," and turned to go 
 away. He was asked by Mr. Morgan who he wanted to 
 see. 
 
 He answered, " Mrs. Surratt." 
 
 Mr. Morgan said, "Mrs. Surratt lives here; she is at 
 home; walk in." 
 
 He then came in, and was ushered into the parlor, while 
 the ladies under arrest were passed out the house from a 
 back room where they had been assembled. After being 
 seated in the parlor, the man with the pickaxe was closely 
 interrogated as to his business there at that time of night, 
 twenty minutes after eleven, his occupation, etc. In reply 
 he stated that he was a laboring man, and had been sent 
 for by Mrs. Surratt to dig a gutter, and had called to 
 know what time next morning she wished him to come 
 to work ; that he had for some time past been employed 
 on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad as a laborer, that he 
 was at work on the road on Friday last, and slept that 
 night with the other road hands ; that he had no money, 
 and earned his living with his pickaxe. 
 
 He confusedly attempted to tell where he had slept on 
 Sunday night, and where he had been since Saturday 
 morning; but often contradicted himself, and broke down 
 completely in this part of his narrative. 
 
 During the investigation he produced a certificate of 
 oath of allegiance, purporting to have been taken by 
 Lewis Payne, of Fauquier County, Virginia, but when 
 questioned about it, evidently did not know anything 
 about the date of the certificate. He asserted frequently 
 that he was a poor man, and could neither read nor 
 write, and earned his living by his daily labor ; but his 
 27 
 
418 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OP SECRETARY SEWARD. 
 
 language was that of a man of education, and his feet and 
 hands were small and well shaped ; the latter being deli- 
 cate, white, and soft as a woman's, and unstained with 
 any marks of toil. He wore on his head a sort of 
 Scotch skull-cap, which, on examination, was found to 
 have been made by cutting off the arm of a stockinet 
 shirt, or the leg of drawers of the same material, the top 
 of the cap being formed by tying a string around one of 
 the ends. Upon searching his pockets, they were found to 
 contain a comb, hair and tooth brushes, a pot of pomatum, 
 a package of pistol cartridges, a new pocket-compass, and 
 twenty-five dollars in greenbacks. After the preliminary 
 examination he was taken in charge of ofl&cers Sampson 
 and Devoe, to General Augur's headquarters, where upon 
 further examination, he gave an account of himself quite 
 different from the one previously given. It was evident 
 that he was in disguise, and had been taken by surprise 
 in finding the officers at the house where he expected to 
 find a welcome and refuge. The facts disclosed in the 
 examination induced the belief that he was the blood- 
 thirsty villain who had attempted the life of Secretary 
 Seward on Friday night. He was placed in a room with 
 two other strangers. The light was made dim, as nearly 
 as possible, in imitation of the condition of the light in 
 Mr. Seward's room on that eventful night, and the domes- 
 tics of Mr. Seward were sent for. Upon entering the 
 room the porter, a colored boy about seventeen years of 
 age, threw up his hands with an exclamation of horror, 
 and, pointing to the man, said, "That is the man! I don't 
 want to see him; he did it; I know him by that lipT 
 The servant had already previously described some 
 peculiarity about the upper lip of the man whom he had 
 admitted to commit the foul and murderous deed. He 
 was subsequently recognized by others as the man who 
 perpetrated the murderous deed at Secretary Seward's, 
 and testimony has been procured, tracing him, step by 
 step, from the time of his separation from Booth until he 
 
SAM DE MORSB THE GUERRILLA. . 419 
 
 entered Seward's house. The chain of evidence is com- 
 plete, and fastens npon him as the perpetrator of the 
 horrid crime which has shocked the whole community. 
 The villain was heavily ironed, and placed in confinement 
 on one of the gunboats. Several other parties have been 
 ascertained to be accomplices before the fact in the awful 
 tragedy. The investigations reveal a plot well laid, and 
 long and carefully matured for murder and arson, on a 
 scale so grandly diabolical as to be hardly conceivable. 
 
 SAM DE MOESE THE GUEEEILLA. 
 
 In the spring of 1862, North Alabama was thrown 
 into a terrible state of excitement by the report, which 
 rapidly gained credence, that General Hardee would be 
 compelled to abandon the line of defences on Duck Eiver, 
 as he had already done the line on the Tenoessee. 
 
 The Confederate Army, broken, dispirited, almost 
 demoralized, passed Huntsville, and scarcely halting, took 
 the cars for Corinth, at which point the Federal Army 
 was concentrating under the matchless leadership of 
 Grant. Buell was craftily seeking to out-general the 
 Confederates and hurl his magnificent army upon the 
 same point. In this he was perfectly successful. To 
 accomplish this end, he sent the impetuous Mitchell 
 down on Huntsville with one of the best appointed divi- 
 sions in the West. His march was one continued success, 
 and on the morning of the 11th day of April, 1862, he 
 charged the town, capturing a portion of the rear guard 
 of the rebel army, besides an immense amount of military 
 and other stores. 
 
 While this retreat was being made by the Confederates, 
 the Union men suffered everything but death, and many 
 of them suffered even that, for they died from the effects 
 of exposure in hiding out in the mountains, or were killed 
 in their numerous encounters with the guerrillas, who 
 
420 SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 
 
 were continually on tlie alert to catcli them and drag them 
 
 to the army. 
 
 Gurley'S; De Morse's, Davis's, Tom Pike's, and Long's 
 guerrillas infested the country at this time, visiting every 
 house, searching every hiding-place to find men subject 
 to military duty. Often a single one of them would pass 
 from house to house, in some impenetrable disguise, in 
 order to see if the men were at home, or ascertain where 
 they were secreted. Sometimes he would- go to a man's 
 house and tell his family a pitiful tale of persecution, 
 avow the most heartfelt Union sentiments, and beg to 
 be fed; then affecting to be alarmed for his safety, or 
 to be overcome by fatigue, he would beg the people to 
 show him some hiding-place. Perhaps he would be 
 secreted in the same old house, in the same loft, or under 
 the same floor, taken to the same mountain cave in which 
 was hidden a father, a husband, or a brother. 
 
 No sooner would the desired information be obtained, 
 than it would be dispatched to some guerrilla chiel^ and 
 in an unexpected moment the unhappy man would be 
 surprised, and dragged away in irons to the conscript 
 prison ; or, if the least resistance were offered or a flight 
 attempted, he would be shot down in the presence of an 
 agonized family. Should he by chance have some repu- 
 tation as a politician and a Union man, more frequently 
 they would hang him to the nearest tree ; sometimes even 
 in his own door-yard. How many widows, how many 
 orphans, these murdering miscreants have made, Grod in 
 heaven can only know. 
 
 Gathering in small parties, or scattering singly through 
 the mountains, the Union men hid themselves, and prayed 
 for the day when the Union Army should deliver them. 
 Often the echoes of the mountains would be awakened 
 by the deep-mouthed baying of the bloodhounds running 
 on the track of some unlucky fugitive, who was almost 
 sure to be caught or killed when these merciless messen- 
 gers were let loose on him. 
 
SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 421 
 
 Two of my neighbors, says a noted Unionist of that 
 region, named Hedges and Glenn, were hiding with me 
 one day in the mountains on Hurricane Creek, when we 
 were suddenly surprised by six of De Morse's men. We 
 were well armed, and so were they ; we retreated "into 
 the mouth of the small cave, where we were in the 
 habit of hiding. The guerrillas must have thought that 
 we were only indifferently armed, for they advanced 
 boldly, and called upon us to come out and surrender. 
 
 The cave was situated upon a high ledge of rock, with 
 a narrow shelf or " bench" traversing the face of the ledge 
 in front of our cave. The guerrillas advanced along that 
 shelf in file, for it was too narrow for two to walk abreast, 
 until they arrived within a few yards of the cave, when 
 they ordered us to come out or they would "smoke us 
 out." We knew that this was no idle threat, for they 
 often carried the means for "smoking" caves with them. 
 There were three alternatives" for us to choose from, viz : 
 to come out and surrender, and be dragged away to the 
 conscript prison, to stay in the cave and be suffocated 
 with smoke, and eventually be killed or captured, or to 
 fight. I chose the latter, and the other two agreed to 
 fight if I would fire the first shot; to this I agreed, and 
 we sallied out, and on turning an abrupt angle in the 
 cliff, I came upon the foremost one. The path ran in such 
 a ^gzag shape that I was on him before he had time to 
 resist. When I first got sight of him his head was turned 
 and he was speaking to a comrade behind him, when I 
 reached out suddenly, caught him by the collar of the 
 coat, and gave him a quick jerk towards me, which had 
 the effect to throw him off his balance, and his gun slip- 
 ping from his hand, went clattering down the face of the 
 cliff into the deep gorge below. Grasping the projecting 
 rock with my right hand to steady mj^self, with my left I 
 swung him around the angle of the rock and threw him 
 on the ground. 
 
422 SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 
 
 "Spare my life! I will surrender!" he shouted. O^ 
 men, don't kill me! O, spare me, spare" — 
 
 "Silence, villain, or I will hurl you over the cliff." 
 
 As I pulled this man round the point, Hodges and 
 Glenn thrust their guns beyond me and fired, and the 
 next instant a man bounded off the cliff in plain view, 
 and fell crashing through the branches of the trees below. 
 It was a terrible sight ; we could see one side of his face, 
 which seemed to be shot away. Crash, crash; he went, 
 as he fell from bough to bough, and at last struck the 
 rocks below with a violence that must have crushed 
 every bone in his body, for the sound echoed through 
 the cliffs with a dull thug as loud as the report of a gun. 
 We had no time to look after him, however, for now the 
 other four engaged our attention. Hastily they fired 
 their guns at random around the projecting rock at us, 
 and fled along the giddy precipice, steadying themselves 
 by laying their hand upon the rocks as they ran. Draw- 
 ing our pistols we pursued; as we were mountaineers, 
 while they were from the level country about Nashville, 
 we had a decided advantage in that aerial sort of 
 chase. Presently, on coming to a narrow place in the 
 path, where it was obstructed by a huge rock, we fired a 
 pistol shot, when another of their number staggered, 
 dropped his gun, clutched wildly at the air, and fell 
 headlong over the cliff* with one last fearful yell, and in 
 an instant was crashing through the projecting scrub 
 growth below. • 
 
 " Hold, hold, men, we will surrender ; don't kill us,'^ 
 the others plead. 
 
 " Throw down your guns," I yelled. 
 
 " We will ; we are jouv prisoners, and will do what- 
 ever you tell us to." 
 
 "All right, then; toss those guns over the cliff there, 
 for we don't want them." 
 
 " We will," said one, and suiting the action to the word, 
 they each tossed a gun over the cliff, which went clang- 
 
SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 423 
 
 ing to the bottom; as tliey fell two of tliem were dis- 
 charged, and their contents whizzed past us high up into 
 the air. "When this was done, I bade one of ray comrades 
 go back and bring our other prisoners. He did so, and 
 then we marched them along before us until we got to a 
 place wide enough for one of us to pass them without 
 danger, where we halted, and putting one man before 
 and two behind them, we marched back to the cave in 
 the cliff When we had entered the cave we struck a 
 light, having many conveniences there, as it was an old 
 hiding place. .This was the first time it had been dis- 
 covered; even then it must have resulted more from 
 accident than design. 
 
 The light flashed up and revealed four pretty solid- 
 looking men, rather past the meridian of life, for their 
 hair and beards were thickly sprinkled with gray. They 
 were sun-browned from exposure, and appeared to have 
 seen hard service. They were strangers in our part of 
 the country, for they did not seem to know any of us, nor 
 did we remember to have ever seen any of them before. 
 •In order to satisfy myself upon this point, I stood out 
 before them in the glare of the light and said: — 
 
 "Gentlemen, look at me, do you know me?" 
 
 They scanned my features closely, but shook their 
 heads; they were badly frightened, and two of them 
 trembled perceptibly. Thinking that it might be to my 
 advantage to make an imposing impression, I said a little 
 roughly : — • 
 
 " So you don't know me ? Then I will tell you who 
 I am; I am Wild Paul, the king of the mountain." They 
 looked in mute astonishment at me ; I could see that they 
 were sorely frightened; "and now, sir," I continued, 
 addressing one of them, " what is your name ?" . 
 
 " Thomas Couch," he faltered. 
 
 "And yours?" addressing another.- 
 
 " Hiram Davis, sir." 
 
 "And yours?" 
 
424 SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 
 
 "Abner Wilson," he answered, in a faint tone. 
 
 "And jour name?" addressing the fourth and last 
 man. 
 
 " Is Samuel De Morse," he replied, defiantly. 
 
 " Guerrillas r I said, or rather hissed, for all the con- 
 tempt I felt for them seemed to embody itself in that one 
 word, which I believe means a "petty warrior," in the 
 Spanish language ; the termination rilla means diminu- 
 tive, and at the same time is expressive of contempt. 
 
 "Yes, guerrillas," he answered, somewhat proudly. 
 
 "Well, now, Mr. Guerrilla, do you know what your 
 fate is?" 
 
 "Death, I suppose." 
 
 " Yery right, sir ; unless you accept your lives on my 
 conditions." 
 
 "Name them," he said. 
 
 "You must take an oath of allegiance to the United 
 States of America, and you must swear never to reveal 
 this hiding-place or the names of any of these men, or 
 speak of this affair to any living soul, or — 
 
 "What!" he gasped. » 
 
 "You shall surely die," I continued, looking every man 
 in the eye as I slowly scanned each face. 
 
 " Give us a little time to consider ?" he said. 
 
 "Five minutes," I answered, looking at my watch, and 
 stepping to the mouth of the cave. I placed my forefin- 
 gers in my mouth and gave a shrill whistle, as though 
 for a signal. The guerrillas whispered together for a few 
 moments, when three of them turned to me, and one 
 said : — 
 
 "We accept your terms, and will take the oath." 
 
 "And you," I said, turning to De Morse, "what have 
 3^ou to say ?" 
 
 "That I defy you," and his lip writhed in a scornful 
 smile. 
 
 "Yery well, sir," I said; "it is a free thing, you have 
 your choice." 
 
SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 425 
 
 " Do your worst," lie said. 
 
 " Be patient, sir ; there* is time enough to shoof a thou- 
 sand traitors before night." I was astonished at my own 
 heartlessness, in thus cavilling with a man whom self- 
 preservation imperatively demanded me to kill. 
 
 "Hodges," I said, addressing a comrade, "keep your 
 eye upon that man while I attend to these ;" then pro- 
 ducing a small memorandum, I tore out a blank leaf, and 
 with a pencil wrote the following oath of allegiance : — 
 
 "We, the undersigned citizens of Davidson County, 
 Tennessee, do hereby swear, that we will bear true faith 
 and allegiance to the United States of America for the 
 rest of our natural lives ; and that we will defend them 
 from all enemies and opposers whomsoever, under any 
 and all circumstances ; and we also swear that we will 
 never reveal the whereabouts of this cave, nor the names 
 of any man concerned in this capture to any living soul; 
 and also that we will ever befriend these men who have 
 captured us ; and this we do solemnly swear, without any 
 equivocation or mental reservation whatever in the 
 presence of Almighty God." 
 
 After reading it to them, I said : " What do you say, 
 men, will you swear ?" and immediately they answered : 
 
 " We will." 
 
 "Then take off your hats and hold up your right 
 hands ;" and I again read the oath, and one of them 
 responded : — 
 
 "I do, in the name of God," and his words were taken 
 up and repeated by the other two. 
 
 " Kow, men," I said, " you will sign this oath, and you 
 will be at liberty." One of them signed the oath in a 
 tolerably legible hand, and the others made their marks 
 after their comrade had written their names, for they 
 were unable to write. "You can go now or stay with 
 us, just as you please." 
 
 ''And now, sir, Mr. De Morse, I would have a few 
 words with you," I said, turning to the remaining guer- 
 
426 SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 
 
 rilla. "Why do I find you following my track like a 
 hound, seeking for my blood ; 5^ou do not even recognize 
 m.e, now that we have met. Tell me, sir, for I would 
 know who it was that set you on my track !" 
 
 "That I will never tell you," he answered, as he 
 returned my look with a steady gaze. 
 
 "As you please," I said; "but you will rue the day 
 that you fell upon this unlucky errand. You have refused 
 my mercy; you have shown me by refusing to accept 
 mercy that you never grant it yourself; but tell me why 
 it is that you choose the life of a guerrilla in preference 
 to that of a soldier in the field." 
 
 " That I will with pleasure. It is because I do not 
 care to follow the hardships of a soldier's life, nor to submit 
 to the rigid discipline of the army ; still I desire to serve 
 my country to the extent of my ability. It i^ a free and 
 easy devil-may-care life, full of fun and frolic, and not a 
 little adventure. We hang upon the rear of a column of 
 Yankees, pick off stragglers, bushwhack pickets, capture 
 isolated wa^on trains, tear up railroad tracks, interrupt 
 their communications, fire into railroad trains, capture 
 couriers, catch conscripts and deserters, penetrate the 
 enemy's lines and obtain information, and various other 
 things too tedious to mention ; but all of which have a 
 tendency to cripple the enemy, besides giving us a chance 
 to make a little extra once in a while. We are inde- 
 pendent and free, and that is what we most desire. We 
 serve our country for the love of country, and we boast 
 among our numbers the proudest chivalry of the land." 
 
 "And let me add, you are a band of midnight assassins 
 and murderers ; stealing upon railroad trains, and firing 
 upon defenceless non-combatants, women, and children, 
 all fare equally in that ; a brave deed truly, and those 
 women and children your own people, perhaps those 
 women are the wives of Southern soldiers, and those their 
 children. You think that is chivalry, do you ?" 
 
SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 42t 
 
 "It is the fate of war, and is to be deplored ; but we 
 must cripple the enemy." 
 
 " It is the fate of war, is it ? You track Union men to 
 their hiding places ^s you did me, and smoke "them out 
 and murder them in cold blood, or drag them away to 
 the conscript pen to be sent to the field, and shot down 
 like dumb beasts by men who are better friends to them 
 to-day, than the men who force them into this unholy 
 war, and lead them when they are there. It is chivalry, 
 is it, to drag away husbands and fathers to fight in a 
 cause for which they have no sympathy, and leave their 
 wives and children to starve, or to live from the bounty 
 of the Government that you are seeking to overthrow ; 
 and this you call chivalry ?" 
 
 '' We are not responsible for consequences ; we must 
 do our duty." 
 
 "Yery well, sir, and I must do mine; follow me. 
 Glenn, keep a sharp eye on him." 
 
 " Don't you intend to give me a chance for my life, at 
 all?" 
 
 '' Give you a chance, certainly ; take the oath I offered 
 you." 
 
 "No, by my soul I'll die first; you may do your 
 worst." 
 
 " Young man, you had better reflect; I cannot turn you 
 loose to watch my footsteps day and night, and finally to 
 catch me unaware some time, perhaps to capture me, or 
 send me to the other world. No, sir, if you were a sol- 
 dier and possessed of a soldier's honor, I might offer you 
 different terms." 
 
 At this moment a step was heard outside the cave ; a 
 man was advancing towards us with long, rapid strides ; 
 he was familiar with the spot, for turning the angle of 
 the rock, he walked into the cave in the off-hand manner 
 of a familiar friend. 
 
 " Ho, Perry, is that you ? I am glad to see you," I 
 said, and, extending my hand, welcomed him back to the 
 
428 SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 
 
 cave, as did Hodges and Glenn. The three paroled men 
 stood aloof from us in the end of the cave, while the 
 guerrilla confronted me. As soon as Perry's eyes became 
 accustomed to the light, for he had recognized us more 
 by voice than sight, he started as if an adder had stung 
 him, and shouted, '^ Sam De Morse 1 Oh, thanks for this," 
 and before we could divine his intention, he drew a pistol 
 from his belt ; the guerrilla saw the motion, and knew 
 the man ; with the quick instinct of self-preservation he 
 bounded for the door ; but ere he reached it Perry caught 
 a running sight on his body, and fired ; with one last 
 desperate bound the guerrilla reached the cliff and fell 
 headlong upon its very brink. With a loud yell of 
 delight Perry sprang to the writhing form, and placing 
 his foot against the guerrilla's side, he spurned him from 
 the cliff, and with a wild shriek he went whirling down 
 the frowning chasm. 
 
 Then turning to us, he said, " How did that man come 
 here?" 
 
 We briefly explained the affair, when he went on to 
 explain his own sanguinary conduct. 
 
 " You never heard me mention the affair, perhaps, for 
 it is a sad story, and one that almost drives me mad as 
 it comes into my mind, I had a bright eyed boy, a pet 
 child, hung to death by that villain, and I swore not to 
 rest day or night, until I had avenged the death of that 
 child. I had been hiding out in the hills on Harpeth 
 Eiver to keep from being dragged away to the army, and 
 this child, my oldest boy, was the only person that knew 
 where I was concealed. The little fellow was manly, far 
 beyond his years, for it was he who used to wander out 
 alone and bring out provisions to eat, or I should have 
 starved many a time had it not been for his ingenuity in 
 getting me food unobserved. One day this De Morse, 
 with a squad of his men, went to my house, and after 
 threatening my wife until she had convulsions, they took 
 my little innocent boy out into the hills, and threatened 
 
SAM DE MORSE, THE GUERRILLA. 429 
 
 to hang him if he did not tell where I was hidden. The 
 child refused, for he said they would kill his pa ; they 
 then put a rope around his neck;, and throwing the other 
 end over a limb, they hauled him up and kept him there 
 a full minute, when they let him down and revived him. 
 They then stormed at, and cursed him as a little villain, 
 and told him if he did not tell where his father was hid, 
 they would hang him for good. It is my opinion that 
 his throat was hurt so badly that he could not speak, for 
 it don't stand to reason that a child could have such 
 resolution ; they could get him to tell nothing, so they 
 pulled him up again. This time they held him up till the 
 child's limbs ceased to move, when they let him down ; 
 they tried to revive him, but they could not — my boy 
 was dead I The whole affair was witnessed by an old 
 negro man and his daughter ; but what of that, their 
 evidence would not be received in any court in a slave 
 State. They were hoeing in a field near by ; but they 
 were afraid to approach as there was no other help near. 
 That man, De Morse, ordered the child hung; I am 
 satisfied now; I have had revenge enough; but there 
 were a dozen concerned in the affair, but I hope I may 
 never meet them, for I am afraid it will go hard with 
 them. Oh, I can't forgive them for hanging my child ; I 
 have tried, and I can't do it." 
 
 His words had made a deep impression on us; we now 
 remembered hearing of the affair just after it occurred. 
 The strong man leaned against the rocks and wept great 
 scalding tears of grief Presently we rallied, and all of 
 ns re-entered the cave. Our new-made friends seemed 
 frightened when we went in again, but when we assured 
 them of our friendship, and gave them the privilege of 
 going their way or remaining with us, they asked a little 
 time to consider the matter. 
 
 That night we all sallied out to the foot of the cliff, 
 and found the dead bodies, and* placing them in the head 
 of a ravine, we covered them with a pile of loose stones 
 
430 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 and sucTi other rubbish as we could gather with our 
 hands; we gathered up the fragments of the guns, 
 ascended the mountain, and took a narrow trail, which 
 we followed for nearly a mile, until we came to an old 
 shanty built of logs that had at one time been occupied 
 by one of my slaves, who used to herd my cattle in the 
 mountains; entering it, we closed the door and Glenn 
 struck a light, and I raised up a loose board in the floor, 
 and there, in a hole scooped out in the ground, was a 
 large basketful of provisions, which I lifted out, uncov- 
 ered, and bade my comrades eat. The basket had 
 been placed there by my boy, Jep, who often used that 
 place to hide provisions for me. After a very hearty 
 supper, and a long conversation with our paroled men, 
 in which they fully satisfied us that their intentions were 
 good, they decided to cast their fortunes with us until 
 better times ; we all stretched ourselves on the floor of 
 the cabin and indulged in a sound sleep. 
 
 DEATH or BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 A hard and grizzly face overlooks me as I write. Its 
 inconsiderable forehead is crowned with turning sandy 
 hair, and the^deep concave of its long insatiate jaws is 
 almost hidden by a dense red beard, which cannot still 
 abate the terrible decision of the large mouth, so well 
 sustained by searching eyes of spotted gray, which roll 
 and rivet one. This is the face of Lafayette Baker, 
 Colonel and Chief of the Secret Service. He has played 
 the most perilous parts of the war, and is the captor 
 of the late President's murderer. The story that I am 
 to tell you, as he and his trusty dependents told it to 
 me, will be aptly commenced here, where the net was 
 woven which took the dying life of Wilkes Booth. 
 
 When the murder occurred, Colonel Baker was 
 absent from Washington. He returned on the third 
 
DEATH or BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 431 
 
 morning, and was at once brought by Secretary Stanton 
 to join the hue and cry against the escaped Booth. The 
 sagacious detective found that nearly ten thousand cavalry 
 and one-fourth as many policemen had been meantime 
 scouring, without plan or compass^ the whole territory 
 of Southern Maryland. They were treading on each 
 others' heels, and mixing up the thing so confoundedly, 
 that the best place for the culprits to have gone would 
 have been in the very midst of their pursuers. Baker 
 at once possessed himself of the little the War Depart- 
 ment had learned, and started immediately to take the 
 "usual detective measures, till then neglected, of offering 
 a reward, and getting out photographs of the suspected 
 ones. He then dispatched a few chosen detectives to 
 certain vital points, and awaited results. 
 
 The first of these was the capture of Atzeroth. Others, 
 like the taking of Dr. Mudge, simultaneously occurred. 
 But the district suspected being remote from the railway 
 routes, and broken by no telegraph station, the Colonel, 
 to place himself nearer the theatre of events, ordered an 
 operator, with the necessary instrument, to tap the wire 
 running to Point Lookout, near Chappell's Point, and 
 send him prompt messages. • 
 
 The same steamer which took down the operator and 
 two detectives, brought back one of the same detectives 
 and a negro. This negro, taken to Colonel Baker's office, 
 stated so positively that he had seen Booth and another 
 man cross the Potomac in a fishing boat, while he was 
 looking down upon them from a bank, that the Colonel 
 was at first skeptical ; but, when examined, the negro 
 answered so readily and intelligently, recognizing the 
 man from the photographs, that Baker knew at last that 
 he had the true scent. 
 
 Straightway he sent to General Hancock for twenty- 
 five men, and while the order was going drew down his 
 coast survey maps with that quick detective intuition 
 amounting almost to inspiration. He cast upon the 
 
432 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 probable route and destination of tbe refugees, as well 
 as the point where he would soonest strike them. Booth, 
 he knew, would not keep along the coast, with frequent 
 deep rivers to cross, nor, indeed, in any direction east of 
 Richmond, where he was liable at any time to cross our 
 lines of occupation; nor, being lame, could he ride on 
 horseback, so as to place himself very far westward of 
 his point of debarkation in Virginia. But he would 
 travel in a direct course from Bluff Point, where he crossed 
 to Eastern Maryland, and this would take him through 
 Port Eoyal, on the Rappahannock River, in time to be 
 intercepted there by the outgoing cavalry men. 
 
 When, therefore, twenty-five men, under one Lieu- 
 tenant Dougherty, arrived at his of&ce-doors. Baker placed 
 the whole under control of his former Lieutenant-Colonel, 
 E. J. Conger, and of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baker — 
 the first of Ohio, the last of New York, and bade them 
 go with all dispatch to Belle Plain, on the Lower Poto- 
 mac, there to disembark and scour the country faithfull}?- 
 around Port Royal, but not to return unless they captured 
 their men. 
 
 Quitting "Washington at two o'clock P. M, on Monday, 
 the detectives and cavalrymen disembarked at Belle 
 Plain, on the border of Stafford County, at ten o'clock, in 
 the darkness. Belle Plain is simply the nearest landing 
 to Fredericksburg, seventy miles from Washington city, 
 and located upon Potomac Creek. It is a wharf and 
 warehouse merely, and here the steamer John S. Lie 
 stopped and made fast, while the party galloped off in the 
 darkness. Conger and Baker kept ahead, riding up to 
 farm-houses and questioning the inmates, pretending to 
 be in search of the Maryland gentlemen belonging to the 
 party. But nobody had seen the parties described, and 
 after a futile ride on the Fredericksburg road, they turned 
 shortly to the east, and kept up their baffled inquiries all 
 the way to Port Conway, on the Rappahannock. 
 
 On Tuesday morning they presented themselves at 
 
DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 433 
 
 the Port Royal Ferry, and inquired of the ferryman, 
 while he was taking them over in squads of seven at a 
 time, if he had seen any two such men. Continuing their 
 inquiries at Port Royal, they found one Rollins, a fisher- 
 man, who referred them to a negro, named Lucas, as 
 having driven two men a short distance towards Bowling 
 Green, in a wagon. It was found that these men answered 
 to the description. Booth having a crutch, as previously 
 ascertained. 
 
 The day before Booth and Harold had applied at Port 
 
 Conway for the general ferry-boat, but the ferryman was 
 
 then fishing, and would not desist for the inconsiderable 
 
 fare of only two persons ; but to their supposed good 
 
 fortune a lot of Confederate cavalrymen just then came 
 
 along, who threatened the ferryman with a shot in the 
 
 head if he did not instantly bring across his craft 
 
 and transport the entire party. These cavalrymen 
 
 j were of Moseby's disbanded command, returning from 
 
 ( Fairfax Court House to their homes in Caroline Count}^ 
 
 ( Their captain was on his way to visit a sweetheart at 
 
 Bowling Green, and he had so far taken Booth under his 
 
 i patronage, that when the latter was haggling with Lucas 
 
 I for a team, he offered both Booth and Harold the use of 
 
 ] his horse to ride and walk alternately. 
 
 I This is the court-house town of Caroline County, a 
 
 I smdll and scattered place, having within it an ancient 
 
 » tavern, no longer used for other than lodging ptirposes ; 
 
 I but here they hauled from his bed the captain aforesaid, 
 
 ! and bade him dress himself. As soon as he comprehended 
 
 Ithe matter he became pallid, and eagerly narrated the 
 
 , facts in his possession. Booth, to his knowledge, was 
 
 I then lying at the house of one Garrett, which they had 
 
 passed, and Harold had departed the existing day with 
 
 ; the intention of rejoining him. 
 
 Taking this captain along for a guide, the worn-out 
 horsemen retraged, though some of the men were so 
 haggard and wasted with travel that they had to be 
 28 
 
434 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 kicked into intelligence before they could climb to their 
 saddles. The objects of the chase thus at hand, the 
 detectives, full of sanguine purpose, hurried the cortege' 
 so well along that by two o'clock early morning all 
 halted ,at Garrett's gate. In the pale moonlight, three 
 hundred yards from the main road, to the left, a plain, 
 old farm-house looked grayly through the environing 
 locusts. It was worn, and white- washed, and two-storied, 
 and its half-human windows glowered down upon the 
 silent cavalrymen like watching owls, which stood as 
 sentries over some horrible secret asleep within. 
 
 Dimly seen behind, an old barn, high and weather- 
 beaten, faced the roadside gate, for the house itself lay to 
 the left of its own lane ; and nestling beneath the barn a 
 few long corn-cribs lay with a cattle shed at hand. 
 
 In the dead stillness, Baker dismounted and forced the 
 outer gate, Conger kept close behind him, and the horse- 
 men followed cautiously. They made no noise in the 
 soft clay, nor broke the all-foreboding silence anywhere, 
 till the second gate swung open gratingly, yet even then 
 nor hoarse nor shrill response came back, save distant 
 croaking, as of frogs or owls, or the whiz of some passing 
 night-hawk. So they surrounded the pleasant old home- 
 stead, each hoTseman, carbine in poise, adjusted under 
 the grove of locusts, so as to inclose the dwelling with a 
 circle of fire. After a pause. Baker rode to the kitchen 
 door on the side, and dismounting, rapped and halloed 
 lustily. An old man, in drawers and night-shirt, hastily 
 undrew the bolts, and stood on the threshold, peering 
 shiveringly into the darkness. 
 
 Baker seized him by the throat at once, and held a 
 pistol to his ear. 
 
 " Who, who is it that calls me ?" cried the old man. 
 
 " Where are the men who stay with you ?" challenged 
 Baker. " If you prevaricate, you are a dead man !" 
 
 The old fellow, who proved to be the head of the 
 
DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 435 
 
 family, was so overawed and paralyzed that lie stammered 
 and shook and said not a word. 
 
 "Go light a candle," cried Baker sternly, "and be 
 quick about it." 
 
 The trembling old man obeyed, and in a moment the 
 imperfect rays flared upon his whitening hairs, and 
 bluishly pallid face. Then the question was repeated, 
 backed up by the glimmering pistol. " Where are these 
 men?" 
 
 The old man held to the wall, and his knees smote 
 each other. "They are gone," he said. "We haven't 
 got them in the house ; I assure you that they are gone." 
 
 In the interim Conger had also entered, and while the 
 household and its invaders were thus in weird tableaux, 
 a young man appeared, as if he had risen from the ground. 
 The eyes of everybody turned upon him in a second ; 
 but, while he blanched, he did not lose loquacity. 
 ^'Father," he said, "we had better tell the truth about 
 the matter. Those men whom you seek, gentlemen, are 
 in the barn, I know. They went there to sleep." Leav- 
 ing one soldier to guard the old man — and the soldier 
 was very glad of the job, as it relieved him of personal 
 hazard in the approaching combat— all the rest, with 
 cocked pistols at the young man's head, followed on to 
 the barn. It lay a hundred yards from the house, the 
 front barn door facing the west gable, and was an old and 
 spacious structure, with floors only a trifle above the 
 ground level. 
 
 The troops dismounted, were stationed at regular inter- 
 vals around it, and ten yards distant at every point, four 
 special guards placed to command the door, and all with 
 weapons in supple preparation, while Baker and Conger 
 went direct to the door. It had a padlock upon it, and 
 the key of this Baker secured at once. In the interval 
 of silence that ensued, the rustling of planks and straw 
 was heard inside, as of persons rising from sleep. 
 
 At the same moment Baker hailed : — 
 
436 PEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 "To the persons in tliis barn I have a proposal to 
 make. "We are about to send into jou the son of the 
 man in whose custody you are found. Either surrender 
 to him your arms and then give yourself up, or we'll set 
 fire to the place. We mean to take you both, or to have 
 a bonfire and a shooting match." 
 
 No answer came to this of any kind. The lad, John 
 M. Garrett, who was in deadly fear, was here pushed 
 through the door by a sudden opening of it, and imme- 
 diately Lieutenant Baker locked the door on the outside. 
 The boy was heard to state his appeal in under tones. 
 Booth replied : — 
 
 " you. Get out of here. You have betrayed me." 
 
 At the same time he placed his hand in his pocket as 
 for a pistol. A remonstrance followed; but the boy 
 slipped on and over the re-opened portal, reporting that 
 his errand had failed, and that he dare not enter again. 
 All this time the candle brought from the house to the 
 barn was burning close beside the two detectives, render- 
 ing it easy for any one within to have shot them dead. 
 This observed, the light was cautiously removed, and 
 everybody took care to keep out of its reflection. By 
 this time the crisis of the position was at hand; the 
 cavalry exhibited very variable inclinations, some to run 
 away, others to shoot Booth without a summons, but all 
 excited and fitfully silent. At the house near by, the 
 female folks were seen collected in the doorway, and the 
 necessities of the case provoked prompt conclusions. The 
 boy was placed at a remote point, and the summons 
 repeated by Baker : — 
 
 "You must surrender inside there. Give up your 
 arms and appear. There's no chance for escape. We 
 give you five minutes to make up your mind." 
 
 A bold, clarion reply came from within, so strong as 
 to be heard at the house door : — 
 
 " Who are you, and what do you want with us ?" 
 
 Baker again urged : — 
 
DEATH OP BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 43T 
 
 " We want you to deliver up your arms, and become 
 our prisoners ?" 
 
 " But who are you ?" hallooed the same strong voice. 
 
 " That makes no difference. "We know who you are, 
 and we want you. We have here fifty men, armed with 
 carbines and pistols. You cannot escape." 
 
 There was a long pause, and then Booth said : — 
 
 " Captain, this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I am 
 being taken by my own friends." 
 
 No reply from the detectives. 
 
 " Well, give us a little time to consider." 
 
 " Very well. Take time." 
 
 Here ensued a long and eventful pause. What 
 thronging memories it brought to Booth we can only 
 guess. In this little interval he made the resolve to die. 
 'But he was cool and steady to the end. Baker, after a 
 lapse, hailed for the last time : — 
 
 , " Well, we have waited long enough ; surrender your 
 arms and come out, or we'll fire the barn." 
 • Booth answered thus : — 
 
 "I am but a cripple, a one-legged man. Withdraw 
 your forces one hundred yards from the door, and I will 
 come. Give me a chance for my life, captain. I will 
 never be taken alive." 
 
 " We did not come here to fight, but to capture you. 
 I say again appear, or the barn shall be fired." 
 
 Then, with a long breath, which could be heard out- 
 j side, Booth cried, in sudden calmness, still invisible, as 
 I were to him his enemies : — ■ 
 
 j " Well, then, my brave boys, prepare a stretcher for 
 j me." 
 
 I There was a pause repeated, broken ^by low discussions 
 within between Booth and his associate, the former say- 
 ing, as if in answer to some remonstrance or appeal, 
 
 " Get away from me. You are a coward, and mean 
 
 to leave me in my distress ; but go, go. I don't want 
 
438 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 yoii to stay. I won't Lave you stay." Then lie shouted 
 aloud : — ' 
 
 " There's a man inside who wants to surrender." 
 
 "Let him come, if he will bring his arms." 
 
 Here Harold; rattling at the door, said : " Let me out ; 
 open the door ; I want to surrender." 
 
 " Hand out your arms, then." 
 
 " I have not got any." 
 
 " You are the man who carried the carbine yesterday ; 
 bring it out." 
 
 " I haven't got any." 
 
 This was said in a whining tone, and with an almost 
 visible shiver. Booth cried aloud at this hesitation : — 
 
 " He hasn't got any arms ; they are mine, and I have 
 kept them." 
 
 " Well, he carried the carbine, and must bring it out." 
 
 " On the word and honor of a gentleman, he has no 
 arms with him. They are mine, and I have got them." 
 
 At this time Harold was quite up to the door, within 
 whispering distance of Baker. The laiter told him to 
 put out his hands to be handcuffed, at the same time 
 drawing open the door a little distance. Harold thrust 
 forth his hands, when Baker, seizing him, jerked him 
 into the night, and straightway delivered him over to a 
 deputation of cavalrymen. The fellow began to talk of 
 his innocence and plead so noisil}^ that Conger threatened 
 to gag him unless he ceased. Then Booth made his last 
 appeal in the same clear, unbroken voice : — 
 
 " Captain, give me a chance. Draw off your men and 
 I will fight them singly. I could have killed you six 
 times to-night, but I believe you to be a brave man, and 
 would not murder you. Give a lame man a show." 
 
 It was too late for parley. All this time Booth's voice 
 had sounded from the middle of the barn. 
 
 Ere he ceased speaking, Colonel Conger slipped around 
 to the rear, drew some loose straws through a crack, and 
 lit a match upon them. They were dry, and blazed up 
 
DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 439 
 
 in an instant, carrying a sheet of smoke and flame through 
 the parted planks, and heaving in a twinkling a world 
 of light and heat upon the magazine within. The blaze 
 lit np the black recesses of the great barn till every wasp's 
 nest and cobweb in the roof were luminous; flinging 
 streaks of red and violet across the tumbled farm gear 
 in the corner, ploughs, harrows, hoes, rakes, sugar-mills, 
 and making every separate grain in the high bin adjacent 
 gleam like a mote of precious gold. They tinged the 
 beams, the upright columns, the barricades, where clover 
 and timothy, piled high, held toward the hot incendiary 
 their separate straws for the funeral pile. They bathed 
 the murderer's retreat in a beautiful illumination, and 
 while in bold outline his figure stood revealed, they rose 
 like an impenetrable wall to guard from sight the hated 
 enemy who lit them. 
 
 Behind the blaze, with his eye to a crack. Conger saw 
 Wilkes Booth standing upright upon a crutch. He 
 likens him at this instant to his brother Edwin, whom, 
 he says, he so much resembled that he half believed, for 
 the moment, the whole pursuit to have been a mistake. 
 At the gleam of the fire Wilkes dropped his crutch and 
 carbine, and on both hands crept to the spot to espy the 
 incendiary and shoot him dead. His eyes were lustrous 
 like fever, and swelled and rolled in terrible beauty, 
 while his teeth were fixed, and he wore the expressio'n 
 of one in the calmness before frenzy. In vain he peered, 
 with vengeance in his look; the blaze that made him 
 visible concealed his enemy. A second he turned glaring 
 at the fire as if to leap upon it and extinguish it, but it 
 had made such headway that this was a futile impulse, 
 and he dismissed it. As calmly as upon the battle-field 
 a veteran stands amidst the hail of ball, and shell, and 
 plunging iron. Booth turned at a man's stride and pushed 
 for the door,, carbine in poise, and the last resolve of 
 death, which we name despair, sat on his high, bloodless 
 forehead. 
 
440 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 And so he daslied, intent to expire not -anaccompanied, 
 a disobedient sergeant at an eyehole d,rew upon him the 
 fatal bead. The barn was all glorious with conflagration, 
 and in the beautiful ruin this outlawed man strode like 
 all that we know of wicked valor, stern in the face of 
 death. A shock, a shout, a gathering up of his splendid 
 figure as if to overtip the stature God gave him, and John 
 "Wilkes Booth fell headlong to the floor, lying there in a 
 heap, a little life remaining. But no. 
 
 "He has shot himself," cried Baker, unaware of the 
 source of the report, and rushing in he grasped his arm 
 to guard against any feint or strategy. A moment con- 
 vinced him that further struggle with the prone flesh was 
 useless, fiooth did not move, nor breathe, nor gasp. 
 Conger and the two sergeants now entered, and taking up 
 the body they bore it in haste from the advancing flame 
 and laid it without upon the grass, all fresh with heavenly 
 dew. 
 
 " Water," cried Conger, " bring water." 
 
 When this was dashed into his face he revived a 
 moment and stirred his lips. Baker put his ear close 
 down and heard him say : — 
 
 " Tell mother — and — die — for my country." 
 
 They lifted him again, the fire encroaching in hotness 
 upon them, and placed him on the porch before the dwell- 
 ing. 
 
 A mattress was brought down, on which they placed 
 him and propped his head, and gave him water and 
 brandy. The women of the household, joined meantime 
 by another son, who had been found in one of the corn- 
 cribs, watching, as he said, to see that Booth and Harold 
 did not steal the horses, were nervous, but prompt to do 
 the dying man all kindnesses, although waved sternly 
 back by the detectives. They dipped a rag in brandy 
 and water, and this being put between Booth's teeth, he 
 sucked it greedily. When he was able to articulate again, 
 he muttered to Mr. Baker the same words with an addenda : 
 
DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 441 
 
 " Tell motlier I died for my country. I tlioiiglit I did 
 for the best." Baker repeated this, saying at the same 
 time, "Booth, do I repeat it correctly?" Booth nodded 
 his head. By this time the grayness of dawn was 
 approaching; moving figures inquisitively coming near 
 were to be seen distinctly, and the cocks began to crow 
 gutturally, though the barn by this time was a hulk of 
 blaze and ashes, sending towards the zenith a spiral line 
 of dense smoke. 
 
 The women became importunate at this time that the 
 troops might be ordered to extinguish the fire, which 
 was spreading toward their precious corn-cribs. Not 
 even death could banish the call of interest. Soldiers 
 were sent to put out the fire, and Booth, relieved of the 
 bustle around him, drew near to death apace. Twice he 
 was heard to say, "Kill me, kill me." His lips often 
 moved, but could complete no appreciable sound. He 
 made once a motion, which the quick eye of Conger 
 understood to mean that his throat pained him. Conger 
 put his finger there, when the dying man attempted to 
 cough, but only caused the blood at his perforated neck 
 to flow more lively. He bled very little, although shot 
 quite through, beneath and behind the ears, his collar 
 being" severed on both sides. 
 
 A soldier had been meanwhile dispatched for a doctor, 
 but the r^oute and return was quite six miles, and the 
 sinner was sinking fast. Still the women made efforts 
 to get to see him, but were always rebuffed, and all the 
 brandy they could find was demanded by the assassin, 
 who motioned for strong drink every two minutes. He 
 made frequent desires to be turned over, not by speech, 
 but by gesture, and he was alternately placed upon his 
 back, belly, and side. His tremendous vitality evidenced 
 itself almost miraculously. Now and then his heart 
 would cease to throb, and his pulse would be as cold as 
 a dead man's. Directly life would begin anew, the face 
 would flush up effulgently, the eyes open and brighten. 
 
442 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 and soon relapsing, stillness reasserted, would again be 
 dispossessed by the same magnificent triumph of man 
 over mortality. Finally the fussy little doctor arrived, 
 in time to be useless. He probed the wound to see if 
 the ball were not in it, and shook his head sagely, and 
 talked learnedly. 
 
 Just at his coming Booth had asked to have his hands 
 raised and shown him. They were so paralyzed that he 
 did not know their location. When they were displayed, 
 he muttered, with a sad lethargy, "Useless, useless." 
 These were the last words he ever uttered. As he began 
 to die the sun rose and threw beams into all the tree-tops. 
 It was at a man's height when the struggle of death 
 twitched and lingered in the fading bravo's face. His 
 jaw drew spasmodically and obliquely downward; his 
 eyeballs rolled toward his feet, and began to swell ; livid- 
 ness, like a horrible shadow, fastened npon him, and 
 with a sort of gurgle and sudden check, he stretched his 
 feet and threw his head back and gave up the ghost. 
 
 They sewed him up in a saddle-blanket. This was his 
 shroud ; too like a soldier's. Harold, meantime, had been 
 tied to a tree, but was now released for the march. 
 Colonel Conger pushed on immediately for Washington ; 
 the cortege was to follow. Booth's only arms were his 
 carbine, knife, and two revolvers. They found about 
 him bills of exchange, Canada money, and a diary. A 
 venerable old negro living in the vicinity had the mis- 
 fortune to possess a horse. This horse was the relic of 
 former generations, and showed by his protruding ribs 
 the general leanness of the land. He moved in an eccen- 
 tric amble, and when put upon his speed was generally 
 run backwards. To this old negro's hors6 was harnessed 
 a very shaky and absurd wagon, which rattled like ap- 
 proaching dissolution, and each part of it ran without any 
 connection or correspondence with any other part. It 
 had no tail-board, and its shafts were sharp as famine; 
 and into this mimicry of a vehicle the murderer was to 
 
DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 443 
 
 be sent to the Potomac Eiver, while the man he had 
 murdered was moving in state across the mourning con- 
 tinent. The old negro geared up his wagon by means of 
 a set of fossil harness, and when it was backed to Garrett's 
 porch, they laid within it the discolored corpse. The 
 corpse was tied with ropes around the legs, and made 
 fast to the wagon side. 
 
 Harold's legs were tied to stirrups, and he was placed 
 in the centre of four murderous-looking cavalrymen. 
 These two sons of Garrett were also taken along, despite 
 the sobs and petitions of the old folks and women, but 
 the Kebel Captain who had given Booth a lift, got off 
 amidst the night's agitations, and was not rearrested. 
 So moved the cavalcade of retribution, with death in its 
 midst, along the road to Port Koyal. When the wagon 
 started. Booth's wound, now scarcely dribbling, began 
 to run anew. It fell through the crack of the wagon, and 
 fell dripping upon the axle, and spotting the road with 
 terrible wafers. It stained the planks and soaked the 
 blankets ; and the old negro, at a stoppage, dabbled his 
 hands in it by mistake ; he drew back instantly, with a 
 shudder and stifled expletive, ^'Gor-r-r, dat '11 never come 
 off in de world ; it's murderer's blood." He wrung his 
 hands, and looked imploringly at the of&cers, and shud- 
 dered again; "Gor-r-r, I wouldn't have dat on me for 
 tousand, tousand dollars." 
 
 The progress of the team was slow, with frequent 
 danger of shipwreck altogether, but toward noon the 
 cortege filed through Port Eoyal, where the citizens 
 came out to ask the matter, and why a man's body, 
 covered with sombre blankets, was going by with so 
 great escort. 'They were told that it was a wounded 
 Confederate, and so held their tongues. The little ferry, 
 again in requisition, took them over by squads, and they 
 pushed from Port Conway to Belle Plain, which they 
 reached in the middle of the afternoon. All the way 
 the blood dribbled from the corpse in a slow, incessant. 
 
444 DEATH OF BOOTH, THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 sanguine exudation. The old negr6 was niggardly dis- 
 missed with two paper dollars. The dead man untied 
 and cast upon the vessel's deck, steam gotten up in a 
 little while, and the broad Potomac shores saw this 
 skeleton ship flit by, as the bloody sun threw gashes 
 and blots of unhealthy light along the silver surface. ' 
 
 All the way associate with the carcass went Harold, 
 shuddering in so grim companionship, and in the 
 awakened fears of his own approaching ordeal, beyond 
 which it loomed already, the gossamer fabric of a scaffold. 
 He tried to talk for his own exoneration, saying he had 
 ridden as was his wont, beyond the East Branch, and 
 returning found Booth wounded, who begged him to be 
 his companion. Of his crime he knew nothing, so help 
 him God, &c. But nobody listened to him. All interest 
 of crime, courage and retribation centred in the dead 
 flesh at his feet. At Washington, high and low turned 
 out to look on Booth. Only a few were permitted to see 
 his corpse for purposes of recognition. It was fairly 
 preserved, though on one side of the face distorted, and 
 looking blue like death, and wildly bandit-like, as if 
 beaten by avenging winds. 
 
 Finally, the Secretary of War, without instructions 
 of any kind, committed to Colonel Lafayette C. Baker, of 
 the Secret Service, the stark corpse of J. Wilkes Booth. 
 The Secret Service never fulfilled its vocation more se- 
 cretly. " What have you done with the body ?",said I to 
 Baker. "That is known," he answered, "to only one 
 man living, besides myself. It is gone, I will not tell 
 you where ; the only man who knows is sworn to silence ; 
 never till the great trumpeter comes shall the grave of 
 Booth be discovered." And this is true.* Last night, 
 the 27th of April, a small row-boat received the carcass 
 of the murderer ; two men were in it ; they carried the 
 body off into the darkness, and out of that darkness it 
 will never return ; in the darkness, like his great crime. 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 445 
 
 may it remain forever ; impalpable, invisible nondescript, 
 condemned to that worse than damnation — annihilation. 
 
 The river bottom may ooze about it laden with great 
 shot and drowning manacles. The earth may have 
 opened to give it that silence and forgiveness which man 
 will never give to its memory. The fishes may swim 
 around it, or the daisies grow white above it ; but we 
 shall never know. Mysterious, incomprehensible, un- 
 attainable, like the dim times through which we live, 
 and think upon it as if we only dreamed them in a pur- 
 turbed fever ; the assassin of a nation's head rests some- 
 where in the elements, and that is all ; but if the indignant 
 seas or the profaned turf shall ever vomit this corpse 
 from their recesses, and it receives Christian burial from 
 some one who does not recognize it, let the last words 
 those decaying lips ever uttered be carved above them 
 with a dagger, to tell the history of a young and once 
 promising life — useless! useless! 
 
 HANGINa OP THE OONSPIEATOKS. 
 
 On the 9th of July, 1865, at as early an hour as eight 
 A. M., says an eye-witness, people commenced to wend 
 their way down to the prison, and the boats to Alexan- 
 dria, which ran close by the jail, were crowded all day 
 by those who took the trip in hopes of catching a glimpse 
 of the gallows, or of the execution, but it was all in vain. 
 The only position outside of the jail that could be used 
 as an observatory, was the large building upon the left 
 side of the Arsenal, which had about fifty spectators 
 upon it, who had a good view of the whole. 
 
 Between nine and ten o'clock in the morning the three 
 ante- rooms of the prison, on the first floor, were thronged 
 with army officers, principally of Hancock's corps, anxious 
 to get a view of the execution from the windows, from 
 which the scaffold could be plainly seen. The newspaper 
 
^4:6 HANGING 0/ THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 reporters soon began to congregate there also, and in a 
 few minutes not less than a score were in attendance, 
 waiting to pick up the smallest item of interest. No 
 newspaper man was allowed to see the prisoners in their 
 cells before they were led out to execution, and General 
 Hartranft was very decided on this point. 
 
 While waiting here for over two hours, the clergymen 
 passed in and out through the heavily riveted doors 
 leading to the prisoners' cells, which creaked heavily on 
 its hinges as it swung to and fro, and the massive key 
 was turned upon the inner side with a heavy sound as a 
 visitor was admitted within its portals. 
 
 Mrs. Surratt's daughter passed into the ante-roon;, 
 accompanied by a lady, who remained seated, while the 
 daughter rapidly entered the hall, and, passing through 
 the heavy door, is soon in the corridor where her mother 
 is incarcerated. 
 
 Messrs. Cox, Doster, Aiken, and Clampitt, counsel for 
 the prisoners, are specially passed in for a short interview, 
 and in a few minutes they return again to the ante-rooms. 
 Time flies rapidly, and not a moment is to be lost. No 
 useless words are to be spoken, but earnest terse sentences 
 are from necessity employed when conversing with the 
 doomed prisoners, whose lives are now measured by 
 minutes. 
 
 Aiken and Clampitt are both here. They walk im- 
 patiently up and down the room, whispering a word to 
 each other as to the prospects of Mrs. Surratt's being re- 
 prieved through the operations of the habeas corpus, 
 which, Aiken confidently tells us, has been granted by 
 Justice Wylie, and from which he anticipates favorable 
 results. Strange infatuation ! It was the last straw to 
 which, like drowning men, they clutched with the fond 
 hope that it was to rescue their client from her imrninent 
 peril. 
 
 Atzeroth passed the night previous to the execution 
 without any particular manifestations. He prayed and 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 44 1 
 
 cried alternately, but made no other noise that attracted 
 the attention of his keeper. On the morning of the exe- 
 cution he sat most of the time on the floor of his cell in 
 his shirt sleeves. 
 
 He was attended by a lady dressed in deep black, who 
 carried a prayer-book, and who seemed more exercised 
 in spirit than the prisoner himself. Who the lady was 
 could not be ascertained. She left him at half-past twelve 
 o'clock, and exhibited great emotion at parting. 
 
 During the morning Atzeroth was greatly composed, 
 and spent part of the time in earnest conversation with 
 his spiritual adviser, Eev. Mr. Butler, of St. Paul's 
 Lutheran Church, Washington. He occupied cell 'No. 
 151 on the ground floor, which was directly in view 
 of the yard, where he could see the gathering crowd and 
 soldiery, although he could not see the scaffold. He 
 sat in the corner of his. cell on his bed, and when his 
 spiritual adviser would go out for a few minutes and 
 leave his testament in his hands, his eyes would be 
 dropped to it in a moment, and occasionally wander with 
 a wild look towards the open window in front of his cell. 
 
 He wore nothing but a white linen shirt and a gray 
 pair of pants. The long irons upon his hands, which he 
 had worn during the trial, were not removed. 
 
 Atzeroth made a partial confession to the Eev. Mr. 
 Butler, a few hours before his execution. He stated that 
 he took a room at the Kirkwood House on Thursday 
 afternoon, and was engaged in endeavoring to get a pass 
 to Eichmond. He then heard the President was to be 
 taken to the theatre and there captured. He said he 
 understood that Booth was to rent the theatre for the 
 purpose of carrying out the plot to capture the President. 
 He stated that Harold brought the pistol and knife to the 
 Kirkwood House, and that he (Atzeroth) had nothing to 
 do with the attempted assassination of Andrew Johnson. 
 
 Booth intended tliat Harold should assassinate Johnson, 
 and he wanted him, Atzeroth, to back him up and give 
 
448 HANGING OP THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 him courage. Booth thought that Harold had more 
 pluck than Atzeroth. 
 
 He alluded to the meeting at the restaurant about the 
 middle of March. He said Booth, Harold, Payne, 
 Arnold, and himself were present, and it was then con- 
 certed that Mr. Lincoln should be captured ahd taken to 
 Eichmond. 
 
 They heard that Lincoln was to visit a camp near 
 "Washington, and the plan was that they should proceed 
 there and capture the coach and horses containing Lincoln, 
 and run him through Prince George's County and Old 
 Pields to G. B. There they were-to leave the coach and 
 horses and place the President in a buggy which Harold 
 would have on hand, and thus convey him to a boat to 
 be in readiness, and run him by some means to Eich- 
 mond. He denies that he was in favor of assassinating 
 Lincoln, but was willing to assist in his capture. 
 
 He stated, however, that he knew Lincoln was to be 
 assassinated about half-past eight o'clock on the evening 
 of the occurrence, but was afraid to make it known, as he 
 feared Booth would kill him if he did so. 
 
 He said that slavery caused his sympathies to be with 
 the South. He had heard a sermon preached which 
 stated that a curse on the negro race had turned them 
 black. He always hated the negroes, and thought they 
 should be kept in ignorance. 
 
 Booth had promised him that if their plan succeeded 
 for the capture of Lincoln they should all be rich men, 
 and they would become great. The prisoners would all 
 be exchanged, and the independence of the South would 
 be recognized, and their cause be triumphant. He had 
 never received any money as yet. 
 
 The crowd increases. Eeporters are scribbling indus- 
 triously. A suppressed whisper is audible all over the 
 room and the hall as the hour draws nearer, and the 
 preparations begin to be more demonstrative. 
 
 The rumbling sound of the trap as it falls in the course 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 449 
 
 of the experiments, wliich are being made to test it, and 
 to prevent any unfortunate accident occurring at the 
 critical moment, is heard through the windows, and all 
 eyes are involuntarily turned in that direction, for 
 curiosity is excited to the highest pitch to view the ope- 
 rations of the fatal machinerj'. There are two or three 
 pictorial papers represented. One calmly makes a draw- 
 ing of the scaffold for the next issue of his paper, and 
 thus the hours till noon passed away. 
 
 The bustle increases. Officers are running to and fro 
 calling for orderlies and giving orders. General Hartranft 
 is trying to answer tv/enty questions at once from as 
 ma'ny different persons. The sentry in the hall is becom- 
 ing angry because the crowd will keep intruding on his 
 beat, when suddenly a buggy at the door announces the 
 arrival of General Hancock. 
 
 He enters the room hurriedly, takes General Hartranft 
 
 aside, and a few words pass between them in a low tone, 
 
 to which Hartranft nods acquiescence ; then, in a louder 
 
 • voice, Hancock says : " Get ready, general ; I ^vant to 
 
 I have everything put in readiness as soon as possible." 
 
 (.This was the signal for the interviews of the clergymen, 
 
 relatives, and friends of the prisoners to cease, and- for the 
 
 I doomed to prepare for execution. 
 
 I The bustle increases. Mr. Aiken approaches General 
 I Hancock, and a few minutes' conversation passes between 
 I them. Aiken's countenance changes perceptibly at Gene- 
 j r€il Hancock's words. The reason is plain ; there is no 
 'hope for Mrs. Surratt. The habeas corpus movement, 
 j from which he expected so much, has failed ; and Aiken, 
 Un a voice tremulous with emotion, said . to me, ." Mrs. 
 rSurratt will be hung." 
 
 The bright hopes he had cherished had all vanished, 
 
 I and the dreadful truth stood before him in all its horror. 
 
 Clampitt, too, till General Hancock arrived, indulged the 
 
 hope that the habeas corpus would effect a respite for 
 
 three or four days. 
 
 29 
 
450 HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 Three or four of Harold's sisters, all in one chorus of 
 weeping, come through the prison door into the hall. 
 They had left their brother and spoken to him the last 
 words, and heard his voice for the last time. 
 
 At fifteen minutes after one o'clock General Hartranfb 
 blandly informs the " press gang" to be in readiness for 
 the prison doors to be^ opened, when they can pass into 
 the prison yard, from whence a good view of the proces- 
 sion can be obtained as it passes by to the scaffold. About 
 eleven A. M. the prison yard was thrown open to those 
 having passes, and about fifty entered. The first object 
 in view was the scaffold, which was erected at the north- 
 east corner of the Penitentiary yard, and consisted of a 
 simple wooden structure of very primitive appearance, 
 faced about due west. The platform was elevated about 
 twelve feet from the ground, and was about twenty feet 
 square. Attached to the main platform were the drops, 
 &c., two in number, on which the criminals stood. At 
 the moment of execution these drops were connected 
 with the main platform by means of large hinges, four to 
 each drop. 
 
 The drops were supported by a post which rested on 
 a heavy piece of timber placed on the ground, and so 
 arranged that two soldiers stationed at the rear of the 
 scaffold instantaneously detached the two supports from 
 their positions by means of pressing two poles, which 
 occupied a horizontal position, the action of which dis- 
 lodged the props of the scaffold and permitted the drops 
 to fall. 
 
 The gallows proper was divided into two parts by 
 means of a perpendicular piece of timber, resting on th^ 
 platform and reaching up to the cross-beam of the gallows. 
 Two ropes hung on either side of the piece of timber 
 mentioned. They were wound around the cross-beam, 
 and contained large knots and nooses at the lower end. 
 The platform was ascended by means of a flight of steps, 
 thirteen in number, erected at the rear of the scaffold, 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 451 
 
 and guarded on either side by a railing, wljich. also ex- 
 tended around the platform. The platform was sustained 
 by nine heavy uprights, about which rose the two heavy 
 pieces of timber which supported the cross-beam and 
 constituted the gallows. The entire platform was capable 
 of holding conveniently about thirty people, and was 
 about half full at the time of the execution. 
 
 The executioners were all fine stalwart specimens of 
 Union soldiers, and did their work well. The rope was 
 furnished from the navy yard, and was one-and-a-half 
 inches in circumference, and composed of twenty strands. 
 The graves were dug close to the scaffold and next to 
 the prison wall. They were four in number, and were 
 about three feet and a half deep, in a dry clayey soil, and 
 about seven feet long and three wide. Four pine boxes, 
 similar to those used for packing guns in, stood between 
 the graves agid the scaffold. These were for coffins, both 
 being in fuliview of the prisoners as they emerged from 
 their cells, and before them until they commenced the 
 dreadful ascent of those thirteen steps. 
 
 About a thousand soldiers were in the yard and upon 
 
 the high wall around it, which is wide enough for sentries 
 
 to patrol it. The sun's rays made it very oppressive, and 
 
 the walls kept off the little breeze that was stirring. 
 
 i There was no shade, and men huddled together along 
 
 I the walls and around the pump to discuss with one 
 
 I another the prospect of a reprieve or delay for Mrs. 
 
 iSurratt. But few hoped for it, though some were in- 
 
 I duced by Mrs. Surratt's counsel to believe she would not 
 
 j be hung to-day. When one of them .came out and saw 
 
 the four ropes hanging from the beam, he exclaimed to 
 
 j one of the soldiers, " My God, they are not going to hang 
 
 jail four, are they?" 
 
 j But there are times when it is mercy to hang criminals, 
 and that time was drawing nigh, it seemed, for those who 
 have been used for years to apologizing for the Eebellion, 
 an'd its damning acts, to be brought to believe that any 
 
452 * HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 crime is to be punished. Of sucli material were tlie 
 prisoners' counsel. 
 
 The drops, at eleven-thirtj; are tried with three hun- 
 dred pound weights upon them, to see if they will work. 
 One falls all right ; one hangs part way down, and the 
 hatchet and saw were brought into play. The next time 
 they were all right. The rattle echoes around the walls, 
 it reaches the prisoners' cells close by, and penetrates 
 their inmost recesses. All is quiet in the yard save the 
 scuffle of the military, and the passing to and fro of a 
 few civilians. 
 
 At twelve-forty four arm chairs are brought out and 
 placed upon the scaffold, and the moving around of 
 General Hartranft indicates the drawing near of the time. 
 The newspaper correspondents and reporters are admitted 
 to a position about thirty feet from the gallows, and about 
 one o'clock and ten minutes, the heavy door in front of 
 the cells is swung upon its hinges for the hulidredth time 
 within an hour, and a few reporters, with Gen. Hancock, 
 pass in and through to the yard, and the big door closes 
 with a slam behind them. All take positions to get a 
 good view. Gen. Hancock for the last time takes a 
 survey of the preparations, and being satisfied that 
 everything is ready, he re-enters the prison building, 
 and in a few minutes the solemn procession marched 
 down the steps of the back door and into the yard. 
 
 Mrs. Surratt cast her eyes upward upon the scaffold 
 for a few moments with a look of curiosity, combined 
 with dread. One glimpse, and her eyes fell to the ground, 
 and she walked along mechanically, her head drooping, 
 and if she had not been supported would have fallen. 
 
 She ascended the scaffold, and was led to an arm-chair, 
 in which she was seated. An umbrella was held over 
 her by the two holy fathers, to protect Jier from the sun, 
 whose rays shot down like the blasts from a fiery furnace. 
 She was attired in a black bombazine dress, black alpaca 
 bonnet, with black veil, which she wore over her face 
 
HANGING OP THE CONSPIRATORS. . 453 
 
 till she was seated on the chair. During the reading of 
 the order for the execution bj General Hartranft, the 
 priests held a small crucifix before her, which she kissed 
 fervently several times. 
 
 She first looked around at the scene before her, then 
 closed her eyes and seemed engaged in silent prayer. 
 The reading and the announcement of the clergymen in 
 behalf of the other prisoners having been made. Colonel 
 McCall, assisted by the other ofl&cers, proceeded to remove 
 her bonnet, pinion her elbows, and tie strips of cotton 
 stuff around her dress below the knees. This done, the 
 rope was placed around her neck and her face covered 
 with a white cap reaching down to the shoulders. 
 
 When they were pinioning her arms she turned her 
 head and made some remarks to the of&cers in a low 
 tone, which could not be heard. It appeared they had 
 tied her elbows too tight, for they slackened the bandage 
 slightly, and then awaited the final order. All the 
 prisoners were prepared thus at the same time, and the 
 preparations of each were completed at about the same 
 moment, so that when Mrs. Surratt was thus pinioned she 
 stood scarcely ten seconds, supported by those standing 
 near her, wJien General Hartranft gave the signal, by 
 clapping his hands twice for both drops to fall, and as 
 soon as the second and last signal was given both fell, 
 and Mrs. Surratt, with a jerk, fell to the full length of the 
 rope. She was leaning over when the drop fell, and. this 
 gave a swinging motion to her body, which lasted several 
 minutes before it assumed a perpendicular position. Her 
 death was instantaneous; she died without a struggle. 
 The only muscular movement discernible was a slight 
 contraction of the left arm, which she seemed to try to 
 disengage from behind her as the drop fell. 
 
 After- being suspended thirty minutes, she was cut 
 down and placed in a square wooden box or coffin, in the 
 clothes in which she died, and was interred in tlie prison 
 yard. The rope made a clean cut around her neck fully 
 
454 HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 an incli in diameter, wliicli was black and discolored with 
 bruised blood. The cap was not taken off lier face, and 
 she was laid in the coffin with it on, and thus has passed 
 away from the face of the earth Mary E. Surratt. Her 
 body, it is understood, will be given to her family for 
 burial. 
 
 Payne died as he has lived, at least as he has done since 
 his arrest, bold, calm, and thoroughly composed. The 
 only tremor exhibited by this extraordinary man during 
 the terrible ordeal of the execution was an involuntary 
 vibration of the muscles of his legs after the fatal drop 
 fell. He was next in order to Mrs. Surratt in the pro- 
 cession of the criminals from their cells to the place of 
 execution. 
 
 He was supported on one side by his spiritual adviser 
 and on the other by a soldier, although he needed no such 
 assistance, for he walked erect and upright and retained 
 the peculiar piercing expression of the eye that has ever 
 characterized him. He was dressed in a blue flannel 
 shirt and pants of the same material. His brawny neck 
 was entirely exposed, and he wore a new straw hat. He 
 ascended the steps leading to the scaffold with the greatest 
 ease, and took his seat on the drop with as much sang 
 froid as though he was sitting down to dinner. 
 
 Once or twice he addressed a few words in an under- 
 tone to persons close by him, and occasionally glanced at 
 the array of soldiers and civilians spread out before him. 
 A puff of wind blew off his hat, and he instantly turned 
 around to see where it went to. When it was recovered 
 and handed to him, he intimated by gesturing that he 
 no longer required it, and it was laid aside. 
 
 During the reading of the sentence by G-eneral Hart- 
 ranft, just previous to the execution, he calmly listened, 
 and once or twice glanced upwards at the gallows, as if 
 inspecting its construction. He submitted to the process 
 of binding his limbs very quietly, and watched the opera- 
 tion with attention. 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 455 
 
 His spiritual adviser, Rev. Dr. Gillette, advanced, a 
 few minutes previous to the execution, and made some 
 ^remarks in Payne's behalf. He thanked the different 
 ofl&cials for the attention and kindness bestowed on 
 Payne, and exhorted the criminal in a few impassioned 
 words to give his entire thoughts to his future state. 
 Payne stood immovable as a statue when the drop fell. 
 Although next to Harold, who died the hardest, he ex- 
 hibited more bodily contortions than the others while 
 suspended. While the noose was being adjusted to his 
 neck Payne raised his head and evidently desired to 
 assist the executioner in that delicate operation. 
 
 Probably no one of the criminals felt as great a dread 
 of the terrible ordeal through which they were to pass 
 as young Harold. Prom the time he left his cell until 
 his soul was sent into the presence of the Almighty, he 
 exhibited the greatest emotion, and seemed to thoroughly 
 realize his wretched conditiou. His face wore an inde- 
 finable expression of anguish, and at times he trembled 
 violently. He seemed to desire to engage in conversa- 
 tion with those around him while sitting in the chair 
 awaiting execution, and his spiritual adviser, Rev. Mr. 
 Old, was assiduous in his attentions to the wretched 
 man. 
 
 Harold was dressed in a black cloth coat and light 
 pants, and wore a white shirt without any collar ; he 
 wore also a black slouch hat, which he retained on his 
 head until it was removed to make room for the white 
 cap. At times he looked wildly around, and his face had 
 a haggard, anxious, inquiring expression. "When the 
 drop fell he exhibited more tenacity of life than any of 
 the others, and he endeavored several times to draw him- 
 self up as if for the purpose of relieving himself from the 
 rope by which he was suspended. 
 
 Atzeroth ascended the steps of the scaffold without 
 dif&culty, and took his seat at the south end of the drop 
 without • exhibiting any particular emotion. He was 
 
456 HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 dressed in a dark gray coat and pants and black vest 
 and white linen shirt without any collar ; on his feet he 
 wore a pair of woollen slippers and socks. He sat in 
 such a position that he could see the profiles of his fellow 
 prisoners, and he had his hands pinioned behind him. 
 He wore no hat, had a white handkerchief placed over 
 his head with a tuft of hair protruding from it and 
 spreading over his forehead. 
 
 Directly behind him stood his spiritual adviser, who 
 held an umbrella over him to keep oft the burning rays 
 of the sun. During the reading of the sentence by 
 General Hartranft he kept perfectly quiet, but his f^ce 
 wore an expression of unutterable w^oe, and he listened 
 attentively. He wore a thin moustache and small goatee, 
 and his face was pale and sallow. Once and once only 
 he glanced around at the assembled throng, and occa- 
 sionally muttered incoherent sentences, but he talked, 
 while on the scafibld, to no one immediately around him. 
 
 Just before his execution his spiritual adviser, Mr. 
 Butler, advanced and stated that Atzeroth desired to 
 return his sincere thanks to General Hartranft and the 
 other officials for their many acts of kindness extended 
 towards him. He then called on God to forgive George 
 A. Atzeroth for his many sins, and, turning to Atzeroth, 
 reminded him that while the wages of sin were death, 
 that whomsoever placed their hope in the Lord Jesus 
 Christ were not forgotten. He hoped that God would 
 grant liim a full and free forgiveness, and ended by say- 
 ing, " May the Lord God have mercy on you and grant 
 you his peace." 
 
 The handkerchief was then taken from his head, and 
 he stood" up, facing the assembled audience, directly 
 alongside of the instrument of his death. His knees 
 slightly trembled, and his legs were bent forward. He 
 stood for a few moments the very embodiment of wretched- 
 ness, and then spoke a few words in an undertone to 
 General Hartranft, after which he shook hands With his 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 457 
 
 spiritual adviser and a few others near him; while he 
 , was being secured with bands tied around his legs and 
 arms he kept muttering to himself as if engaged in silent 
 prayer. 
 
 Suddenly he broke forth with the words, " Gentlemen, 
 beware who you — " and then stopped as if with emotion; 
 as the white cap was being placed over his head, he said, 
 •'Good-bye, gentlemen; may we all meet in the other 
 world. God take me now." He muttered somethino- 
 loud enough for them close by him to hear, just as the 
 drop fell, evidently not anticipating such an event at 
 that moment. He died without apparent pain, and his 
 neck must have been instantly broken. 
 
 After hanging a few seconds his stomach heaved con- 
 siderably, and subsequently his legs quivered a little. 
 His death appeared to be the easiest of any of the 
 I criminals, with the exception of Mrs. Surratt, who did 
 ' not apparently suffer at all. After hanging half an 
 ' hour, Atzeroth's body was taken down, it being the first 
 I one lowered, and an examination made by Surgeons Otis, 
 I Woodward, and Porter. 
 
 I About half-past eight o'clock this morning. Miss Surratt, 
 I accompanied by a female friend, again visited the White 
 ' House, having been there last evening for the purpose of 
 obtaining an interview with the President. President 
 Johnson having given orders that he would receive no 
 I one to-day, the door-keeper stopped Miss Surratt at the 
 j foot of the steps leading up to the President's office, a:id 
 I would not permit her to proceed further. She then asked 
 ! permission to see General Mussey, the President's Military 
 Secretary, who promptly answered the summons, and 
 came down stairs where Miss Surratt was standing, 
 i As soon as the General made his appearance. Miss 
 Surratt threw herself upon her knees before him, catching 
 him by the coat, with loud sobs and streaming eyes, im- 
 plored him to assist her in obtaining a hearing with the 
 President. 
 
458 HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 General Mussey, in as tender a manner as possible, in- 
 formed Miss Surratt that lie could not comply with her 
 request, as President Johnson's orders were imperative, 
 and he would receive no one. 
 
 Upon General Mussey 's returning, to his office. Miss 
 Surratt threw herself upon the stair steps, where she 
 remained a considerable length of time, sobbing aloud in 
 the greatest anguish, protesting her mother's innocence, 
 and imploring every one who came near her to intercede 
 in her mother's behalf. While thus weeping she declared 
 her mother was too good and kind to be guilty of the 
 enormous crime of which she was convicted, and asserted 
 that if her mother was put to death she wished to die 
 also. 
 
 The scene was heart-rending, and many of those who 
 witnessed it, including a number of hardy soldiers, were 
 moved to tears. Miss Surratt having become quiet was 
 finally persuaded to take a seat in the Bast Room, and 
 here she remained for several hours, jumping up from 
 her seat each time the front door of the mansion was 
 opened, evidently in hopes of seeing some one enter who 
 could be of service to her in obtaining the desired inter- 
 view with the President, or that they were the bearers of 
 good news to her. 
 
 Two of Harold's sisters, dressed in full mourning and 
 , heavily veiled, made their appearance at the White House 
 shortly after Miss Surratt, for the purpose of interceding 
 with the President in behalf of their brother. ' Failing to 
 see the President, they addressed a note to Mrs. Johnson, 
 and expressed a hope that she would not turn a deaf ear 
 to their pleadings. Mrs. Johnson being quite sick, it was 
 thought expedient by the ushers not to deliver the note, 
 when, as a last expedient, the ladies asked permission to 
 forward a note to Mrs. Patterson, the President's daughter, 
 which privilege was not granted, as Mrs. Patterson was 
 also quite indisposed. 
 
 Payne, during the night, slept well for about three 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 459 
 
 hours, tlie otlier portion of the night being spent in con- 
 versation with Eev. Dr. Gillette, of the First Baptist 
 Church, who offered his services as soon as he was 
 informed of the sentence. Payne, without showing any 
 particular emotion, paid close attention to the advice of 
 Dr. Gillette. Up to ten o'clock this morning, no relations 
 or friends had been to see Payne. 
 
 Atzeroth was very nervous throughout the night, and 
 did not sleep, although he made several attempts. His 
 brother was to see him yesterday afternoon, and again 
 this morning. His aged mother, who arrived during the 
 night, was also present. The meeting of the condemned 
 man and his mother was very affecting, and moved some 
 of the officers of the prison, who have become used to 
 trying scenes, to tears. 
 
 Eev. Dr. Butler, of the Lutheran Church, was sent for 
 I last night, and has been all night ministering to Atzeroth. 
 I Harold was visited yesterday by Rev. Mr. Olds, of Christ 
 ' Episcopal Church, and five of his sisters, and this morn- 
 I ing the minister and the entire family of seven sisters 
 ' were present with him. Harold slept very well several 
 ' hours during the night. 
 
 Miss Surratt was with her mother several hours last 
 night, as also Rev. Fathers Wiget and Walter, and Mr. 
 I Brophy, who were also present this morning. She slept 
 very little, if any, and required considerable attention, 
 ! suffering with cramps and pains the entire night, caused 
 'by her nervousness. The breakfast was sent to the 
 I prisoners at the usual hour this morning, but none eat, 
 I excepting Payne, who ate heartily. 
 
 I About three thousand troops were employed in guard- 
 ing the building and its surroundings. 
 ; The execution ground was a large square inclosure, 
 j called 'the Old Penitentiary jail yard, directly south of 
 ^the Old Penitentiary building. It comprises probably 
 j three acres of ground, surrounded by a brick wall, about 
 I twenty feet in height. 
 
460 HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 This wall is capped with white stone and surmounted 
 with iron stakes and ropes, to prevent the guard from 
 falling off while patrolling the tops of the wall. The 
 Sixth Kegiment Veteran Volunteers were formed on the 
 summit of the wall during the execution, and they pre- 
 sented quite a picturesque appearance in their elevated 
 position. 
 
 The gallows occupied a position in the angle of the 
 inclosure formed by the east wall and the Penitentiary 
 building on the north. The First Eegiment Veteran 
 Volunteers were posted around the gallows, two sides 
 being formed by the east wall and the Penitentiary 
 building. 
 
 The spectators, about two hundred in number, were 
 congregated directly in front of the gallows, the soldiers 
 forming a barrier between them and the place of execu- 
 tion. The criminals were ]ed to the scaffold from a small 
 door about one hundred feet from the place of execution. 
 But for a small projection that runs south of the Peni- 
 tentiary building, the gallows would be in plain view of 
 the prisoners' cells, which are all on the first floor of the 
 building. 
 
 It was a noticeable incident of the execution that 
 scarcely any Government officials or citizens were present, 
 the spectators being nearly all connected with the trial 
 in some capacity, or else representatives of the press. 
 
 By permission of the authorities; the daughter of Mrs. 
 Surratt passed the night previous to the execution with 
 her mother, in her cell. The entire interview was of a 
 very affecting character. The daughter remained wiih 
 her mother until a short time before the execution, and 
 when the time came for separation the screams of anguish 
 that burst from the poor girl could be distinctly heard 
 all over the execution ground. 
 
 During the morning the daughter proceeded to the 
 Metropolitan Hotel, and sought an interview with Gene- 
 ral Hancock. Finding him, she implored him in pitiable 
 
HANGING OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 461 ^ 
 
 accents to get a reprieve for her mother. The general, 
 of course, had no power to grant or obtain such a favor, 
 and so informed the distressed girl in as gentle a manner 
 as possible. 
 
 General Hancock, with the kindness that always 
 characterizes his actions apart from the stern duties of 
 his noble profession, did his best to assuage the mental 
 anguish of the grief-stricken girl. 
 
 The alleged important after-discovered testimonj^ which 
 Aiken, counsel for Mrs. Surratt, stated would prove her 
 innocence, was submitted to Judge Advocate-General 
 Holt, and, after a careful examination, he failed to 
 discover anything in it having a bearing on the case. 
 This was communicated to the President, and doubtless 
 induced him to decline to interfere in the execution of 
 Mrs. Surratt. 
 
 The residence of Mrs. Surratt, on H street, north, near 
 Sixth, remained closed after the announcement of her 
 fate had become known. 
 
 In the evening but a single dim light shone from one 
 of the rooms, while within the house all was as quiet as 
 death up to about eight o'clock, at which hour Miss 
 Annie E. Surratt, who had been in constant attendance 
 upon her mother, drove up to the door in a hack, accom- 
 panied by a gentleman. 
 
 She appeared to be perfectly crushed with grief, and 
 as she alighted from' the carriage some ladies standing 
 near were moved to tears of sympathy with the unfortu- 
 nate girl whose every look and action betrayed her 
 anguish. 
 
 Miss Surratt, after gaining admittance to the house, 
 fainted several times, causing great bustle and excitement 
 among the inmates, who were untiring in their efforts to 
 console the almost heart-broken young lady. 
 
 From early in the evening until a late hour at night, 
 hundreds of persons, old and young, male and female, 
 visited the vicinity of Mrs. Surratt's residence, stopping 
 
462 HOW A SUBSTITUTE BROKER WAS TAKEN IN. 
 
 •apon the opposite side of the street, glancing over with 
 anxious and inquiring eyes upon the house in which the 
 conspirators met, commenting upon the fate of the doomed 
 woman, and the circumstances connected therewith. 
 
 During the evening not less than five hundred per- 
 sons visited the spot. 
 
 HOW A SUBSTITUTE BEOKEK WAS TAKEN IN. 
 
 If it's bragging, sir, here goes for a brag ! I'm going 
 to put it in print. 
 
 I'm a plain man in most respects, but in one respect 
 I am a little peculiar. In respect to keeping sober under 
 circumstances that make other men drunk, I never met 
 any man like me. The vicious monarch the Temperance 
 Society is opposed to has no tensors for John Waggoner. 
 I presume you may have heard of that fire-eating 
 Southern chap — what ivas his name ? — who used to boast 
 in Washington before the war that he was " born insensi- 
 ble to fear." He must have been an awful booby, if he 
 wasn't an awful liar — that's my opinion of Mm. Whether 
 I was "born insensible" to fear of "King Alchy, the 
 sarpent," I don't just remember. At any rate it's a fact 
 that liquor can't fuddle me a bit — not a bit. But, bless 
 your heart, that I never thought a bragging matter. I've 
 got a swill- tub down at the farm that will ho-ld more 
 liquor than any man /ever saw. 
 
 When I was in the army I was a teetotaler on princi- 
 ple. Every man has his own bit of influence in this 
 world, and 1 never wanted any comrade of mine to have 
 it to say that he drank because John Waggoner drank. 
 I don't believe whiskey makes a soldier brave, even 
 though it may make him reckless. A good soldier takes 
 care of himself — that's my experience. He don't go to 
 war to be killed ; he goes to fight. Give the enemy fits, 
 and look out for Number One all the same, is my motto. 
 
HOW A SUBSTITUTE BROKER WAS TAKEN IN. 463 
 
 If I don't hate a mean man I am not acquainted with 
 my own sentiments. Since I was a boy it has always 
 been a source of pleasure to me to kick a mean man — 
 morally or physically — whenever the good Lord sent me 
 a favorable opportunity. I've seen many mean men in 
 my day. I have seen a man who was so mean that he 
 abused his wife till she got a divorce from him, and then 
 tried to get her to be his mistress. But in my humble 
 opinion — I've been a soldier, sir, and faced my country's 
 foes under fire — there's no meaner style of man living 
 than the fellow who tries to make dirty money by dealing 
 in substitutes. 
 
 I read the papers pretty carefully, and don't skip the 
 advertisements. I have got a deal of good out of adver- 
 tisements at different times. Last week I read an adver- 
 tisement of a substitute-broker named Miggs, in the city. 
 Plenty others like hi rrr there were, to be sure; but my 
 way of dealing with a swindle is to pick out one of the 
 swindlers and give him a handling. I picked out Miggs, 
 and went to town to see what the prospect might be for 
 handling him. 
 
 The first man I met was Jo Smith, and I told him I'd 
 got a little job to do, and wanted his help. Jo knows me. 
 
 " All right," says h^. " What is it, John ?" 
 
 " Do you know a chap named Miggs ?" 
 
 " Substitute swindleT; ?" says he. 
 
 "Yes. C.E. Miggs.", 
 
 " Guess I do. He's been trying to get me to sell myself 
 to him cheap." 
 
 "For a sub?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "You don't say. Come, this is just the talk! Find 
 me Miggs, will you? I'm a substitute." 
 
 " Pooh ! You ain't going to let any of these dirty 
 sharks gobble you up and make a hundred dollars out 
 of you. Are you, John ?" 
 
 ",He won't make more than that out of me, any how. 
 
464 HOW A SUBSTITUTE BROKER WAS TAKEN IN. 
 
 All I ask of you is to set him on. Tell him to get me 
 drunk, and I'm his man. I will be." 
 
 "Oh, I see! John, you're a good egg. Here's my 
 hand." 
 
 He went straight off, and I waited on the corner for 
 him. Pretty soon he came back with Miggs — a lean chap 
 with sore eyes and a treble voice. He was dressed in a 
 shiny broadcloth suit, and wore a blue vest with regulation 
 buttons. Our buttons! I could have knocked him down 
 for that. 
 
 " Mr. Miggs," said Joe, '^ let me introduce my friend 
 John Waggoner, from the country. I want 3^ou to show 
 him the elephant, Miggs. Mr. Miggs knows the city like 
 a book, John. He'll take care of you. Come 'round to 
 my house to-morrow and I'll be more at leisure than I 
 am to-day." 
 
 Jo went off, and. left Miggs and me standing on the 
 corner. He looked at me as much as to sa}^, " You're 
 my game, country !" Oh, am If thought I ; but I looked 
 peaceful. 
 
 "Smith's a good fellow, ain't he?" piped Miggs. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " he's well enough ; but he's too darned 
 partic'lar for me. He won't never drink with a feller, 
 and if there's anything I like, it ain't tea — ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 "He! he! he!" squeaked the sore-eyed substituter, 
 "that's a good one. Eh! But, I say — let's have some- 
 thing." 
 
 Broker had got his cue at once. He was going to get 
 me drunk as fast as possible. No doubt his time wa!3 
 precious. 
 
 AYe drank. Broker took a very light nip, I noticed. 
 I let him do it — that time. 
 
 I warmed up with my liquor wonderful quick, you 
 understand ; and as we went right off into another saloon 
 and drank again, I took Miggs's glass when he had 
 dribbled a little whiskey into it, and said I : — 
 
 " Look 'ere ! That ain't the way you drink with your 
 
HOW A SUBSTITUTE BROKER WAS TAKEN IN. 465 
 
 friends, is it, Miggs, old chap ? Here, let me fill her up 
 for 3^ou." 
 
 And I filled her up, and watched Miggs driivk her, 
 too. He tried to laugh it off, but he made a wrj face 
 over her. 
 
 "What do you think about the war, Mr. Waggoner?" 
 said Miggs after that. He was for getting on to busi- 
 ness. 
 
 "War's a big thing on ice," said I. "Big thing I 
 Come up and take something." 
 
 We took something. I poured out for Miggs, who 
 began to eye me anxiously. To encourage him, I said : 
 " Miggs — hie — old boy, I b'lieve I can lick Jeff Davis 
 or any other man. I b'lieve you an' I could, anyhow." 
 
 " Of course you could," said Miggs, who began to feel 
 'perceptibly better. "I tell you what, Waggoner, I'vd 
 I half a notion to enlist myself" 
 • " Bully f 'you !" said I. " Come up and drink." 
 ' Miggs made a wry face again as I poured out his gin, 
 I but he had to drink it. After which he grew decidedly 
 I unsteady on his legs. 
 
 I "Say, Miggs — hie — iggs," said I, "if you'll 'list for a 
 i major-general, I'll 'list for a — hie — high private. What 
 'say?" 
 
 ' "Do it!" said Miggs, and he hiccoughed in earnest. 
 , " Do it ! Eecruiting office right 'cross way, here. Come 
 over !" 
 
 " Let's drink, first," said I ; and that one did the business. 
 I Miggs was as drunk as a fool. I took him over to the 
 I recruiting of&ce and enlisted him in Uncle Abraham's 
 j army. 
 
 I I can testify that there is one mighty mean man wear- 
 I ing the army blue, and that man is John Waggoner's 
 recruit. 
 
 30 
 
466 HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 
 
 HO^ THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HOTG A GUEKEILLA. 
 
 My name is Paul Henderson ; my father's name was 
 John Henderson. At the beginning of the great rebel- 
 lion, we were living npon adjoining plantations in the 
 valley of Flint River, in Madison County, Alabama. 
 
 We were wealthy in lands, stock, and negrojes. "We 
 never knew what it was to desire a second time, for our 
 wants were always supplied as soon as known. 
 
 Our plantation was nestled away in the mountains, 
 which rose in magnificent grandeur on every hand. We 
 loved our home in the valley, and we loved the blue 
 mountains which sheltered us from every storm. WjS 
 loved the bright river that rolled before our home, and 
 the great forest trees that sheltered us from the sun ; and 
 we loved the pretty birds that warbled in their shadowy 
 branches. 
 
 Such was the state of my affairs only four short years 
 ago. And now, that I stand before you alone in -the 
 world, shorn of my wealth — lands, slaves, stock, crops, 
 money — all — by the fanaticism of secession ; robbed of 
 my kind parents, my darling child, and angel wife, by 
 the ruthless hand of death, I can* scarcely realize that I 
 am the same man; the Paul Henderson of four years 
 ago. Alas ! it is only too true. All, all this is the work 
 of the arch fiend of disunion. My soul sickens as I con- 
 template the past, and I would willingly veil it forever 
 from the world. 
 
 I resisted the whirlwind of secession until the last 
 moment, and, thereby, became a marked man. A band 
 of cavalry was sent to force me into the rebel service, and 
 to avoid raising my han(f against the old flag, I fled in 
 company with others to the mountains, and there 
 occurred the incidents I am now relating. 
 
 Our party consisted of James Hodges, Henry Glenn, 
 Jacob Thompson, El wood Butler, and myself 
 
HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 46T 
 
 One day we were at out old hiding-place at the cave, 
 lounging about and discussing the various rumors of the 
 day, when we were suddenly startled by the sound of 
 horses' feet running on top of the mountain above us ; 
 our first impulse was to lay quiet and let it pass, but just 
 as we had agreed among ourselves to do so, we were 
 startled by a long, piercing scream, which made a thrill 
 of terror run through my veins. I was almost paralyzed 
 with frio^ht. 
 
 "What is the matter, Henderson!" exclaimed Butler, 
 in alarm. " What is the matter, man ? You needn't be 
 afraid, it is only a horse." 
 
 " Men, that was my sister's voice, I know it was," I 
 answered, as soon as I could speak. 
 
 "Nonsense, man, what would she be doing out in the 
 mountains? There is no one that would harm her; 
 surely the rebs would never molest her." 
 
 " We don't know that ; at all events it is a woman's 
 voice, and she is in some sort of danger, else why that 
 scream ?" 
 
 "Well, chaps," said Thompson,' "I kind o' calkilate it 
 is a gal, an' I allow to be up an' a doin'. I'll bet a hoss 
 it's a Union gal, fur no other sort ever comes up into 
 these mountains." 
 
 While this man had been making his observation, he 
 had been buckling on his arms. I had begun to arm 
 myself, as soon as I heard the scream. No sooner was 
 this done, than instead of following the usual trail along 
 the face of the cliff, we turned to the left and clambered 
 up the steep side of the mountain several hundred feet, 
 and stood upon the summit, which was about two miles 
 wide and quite level. It was a near cut, and well calcu- 
 lated to head off any one coming toward us by either of 
 the two trails, which here met just over our cave. There 
 was a thick growth of scrubby oak interspersed with 
 cedars, covering every part of the mountain, and espe- 
 cially about the cave. It was a bright, clear morning in 
 
468 HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 
 
 the early part of July, and everything was so still in tlie 
 mountain solitude, that sound was conveyed an incredible 
 distance. Listening again attentively, we could hear the 
 sound very distinctly; it was a single horse, and was 
 approaching along the right hand trail. My first im- 
 pression w^s that it was my sister coming to warn me of 
 some imminent danger, and what strengthened the im- 
 pression, was the fact that this right hand trail descended 
 the mountain and came out into the valley, within two 
 hundred yards of my father's door. We were not kept 
 long in suspense, for in less time than I have taken to tell 
 it, a large and powerful horse bounded into view ; and, 
 oh, heavens! it was guided by a young and powerful- 
 looking man, who clasped in one arm a beautiful young 
 woman. At the first glance, I recognized young Yance, 
 the guerrilla, and the next bound of the horse, as he 
 turned a little to me, revealed the face of my sister. 
 
 " Now, my young lady, make another particle of noise, 
 and I will drive this knife into your bosom," said the 
 guerrilla, his face livid with passion, as he flashed a 
 murderous-looking bowie-knife close to her face. 
 
 The girl trembled like an ^spen leaf, but was too much 
 terrified to speak. 
 
 At the first glance my blood almost curdled in my 
 veins ; the next moment it seemed seething hot. Thomp- 
 son and I had both instinctively concealed ourselves the 
 moment we reached the top. My first impulse was to 
 fire, and I partly raised my gun to do so, when I was 
 restrained by my companion, who said, in a hoarse- 
 whisper : — 
 
 " Stop, Henderson, you may murder your sister ; don't 
 be so rash, man ; we kin track him up wheresomever he 
 goes to with her. Thar's no use to be in sich a hurry ; 
 take it cool, man," and he pulled my rifle down. 
 
 Before I had time to reply the guerrilla wheeled his 
 .horse, and checking to a walk, pursued his way until he 
 arrived at the end of the trail that led down on the face 
 
HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 469 
 
 of the cliff. In an instant I divined his intention ; he 
 was taking her to the cave, for what purpose I knew not, 
 only I knew that his intentions could not be other than 
 evil. The guerrilla sprang to the ground, and lifted my 
 sister from the horse. 
 
 " Can you walk, miss ?" he asked, with a show of re- 
 spect. There was no answer ; my sister was too terrified 
 to speak. 
 
 Without loosing his hold of her, the guerrilla secured 
 his horse to the branch of a tree ; the next instant he 
 ! swung his right arm around her, and lifting her clear 
 off the ground, supported her with the left, and began 
 to descend the trail. Oh, the terror of that moment ; a 
 single false step of his, and they would both be hurled 
 hundreds of feet down upon the great jagged rocks below. 
 ' There was no help for it ; I could only look on, for well 
 I I knew the desperado would not hesitate to take her life 
 ( if he were surprised ; my greatest fear was, that he should 
 ( discover the men at the cave ; and then, in his wild despe- 
 I ration, he might murder or hurl her over the cliff. For 
 i fear of alarming him ourselves, Thompson and I sat 
 ' down and pulled off' our boots, and followed him with 
 I cat-like stealth until he reached the cave, when he un- 
 ceremoniously entered. 
 
 " Quick, now is our time," I whispered to Thompson, 
 and springing into the cave after him, I dealt him a 
 fearful blow with the breech of my pistol, and he fell at 
 my feet stunned and bleeding ; in falling he reeled partly 
 toward me, and I caught my gister in my arms : she was 
 ^^arly inanimate, yet was perfectly conscious, but weak 
 from fright. 
 
 The men in the cave had never left it or concerned 
 themselves about the alarm, until they heard the guer- 
 rilla's footsteps upon the trail on the cliff, when they had 
 hastily armed themselves, but ere they were prepared the 
 desperado had entered, and before they had time to chal- 
 lenge, I had felled him to the earth. They were, almost 
 
410 HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 
 
 dumbfounded at the scene they bad witnessed, but forebore 
 asking us any questions until they "bad first disarmed the 
 villain, and then securely bound him. Next we made a 
 couch of our blankets and coats, upon the dry floor of 
 the cave, for my sister to rest upon until she should be 
 sufficiently restored to narrate the affair of her capture. 
 
 When we had bound the gueri'illa we laid him near 
 the door, where the fresh air could reach him ; he breathed 
 heavily, but I could see that he was only stunned, and 
 that he would soon revive. 
 
 Devoting my first attention to my sister, I urged her 
 to take a drink from my canteen ; it contained a prepa- 
 ration of tonic bitters, which had the effect to restore her 
 in a few moments, when she exclaimed: "O Paul, you 
 here ?" and when she revived a little more, she proceeded 
 to relate the particulars of her capture. 
 
 "We were," she said, ''sitting at the breakfast table, 
 enjoying ourselves as best we could ; father and mother, 
 sister Lizzie and myself, when the house was suddenly 
 surrounded by about twenty of Frank Gurley's men. 
 While part of them stood guard, the greater portion 
 entered the house and began to pillage it ; threatening 
 father, and mother, and Lizzie with death, if they did 
 not show where all the silver ware was hid. At this 
 moment, and when ' the confusion was at the highest, 
 yoiing Vance threw a shawl over my head, and by the 
 aid of a comrade, who was, no doubt, well paid for his 
 villainy, he carried me out to his horse, and mounted, 
 when they lifted me up before him, and he started for 
 the mountains. I 'did not know where he was going or 
 what his intentions were, until we struck the foot of the 
 mountain, when he said : — 
 
 "'Now, my young lady, help yourself; I would smile 
 to see your brother Paul help you now.' 
 
 " I begged him to let me go, in the most piteous terms ; 
 I even promised to forgive him if he would let me go 
 back to my poor old father and mother ; I pictured their 
 
HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 4Ti 
 
 distress when they should miss my presence ; but it all 
 did no good — he only laughed at my terror." 
 
 "'Oh, no, my little beauty,' he said, 'I have a place 
 picked out where I can keep you until you die of old age, 
 and your friends can never find you.' 
 
 " I begged him again to put me down, and let me go 
 back, reminding him of his former standing in society, 
 of his parents and friends, and pictured their grief at his 
 infamous procedure ; but he only laughed derisively, and 
 spurred his horse to renewed exertions. 
 
 " He said, ' Oh, no, my little pet, I cannot give you up ; 
 you are to be my mistress, now. You refused to marry 
 me once when I wanted 3^ou to do so ; now I do not want 
 you for my wife ; I do not want to marry now, but I do 
 want a bright-eyed little mistress, and you are just the 
 girl for me.' 
 
 " I saw that I was in the hands of a fiend, and resolved 
 to sell my life at a fearful rate if I got the least oppor- 
 tunity. I plead with him, '0 Charlie Yance, you will 
 not dishonor me ; think how miserable I shall then be ; 
 I shall be an outcast ; I cannot hold up my head again ; 
 my parents will die of grief if you do this great crime ; 
 you must not, you will not, Charlie ; do let me go.' I had 
 already screamed aloud for help, but there was no help 
 near, and he only laid his heavy hand upon my mouth, 
 clutched me closer, and laughed derisively in my ear, 
 and hissed : — 
 
 " ' You would not be my wife, Mary Henderson ; now, 
 by all that is good, you shall be my mistress.' I then 
 thought of seizing some of his weapons and dispatching 
 him ; but, as if divining my object he drew his bowie 
 knife and flourished it close to my face, so close that the 
 cold steel touched my cheek, and I was so terrified that 
 again I shrieked aloud ; but this time he urged me to 
 scream again, and told me there was no help near." 
 
 She paused an instant, when Glenn remarked, "And 
 that is the shriek we heard, for it was not far off." 
 
472 HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 
 
 At this moment our attention was attracted by a groan, 
 ' and turning towards the guerrilla, we were astonished to 
 see him sitting up and listening attentively to the whole 
 recital. 
 
 " A thousand curses on you all," he muttered. 
 
 My first thought was death to him, but the next 
 moment I thought of Mary, and I did not want her to 
 know what became of him ; so I told the men to secure 
 him until I came back. Then, after urging Mary to take 
 another sip of bitters, I lifted her to her feet and bade 
 her follow me. At the edge of the cliff her presence of 
 mind failed her as she looked down into the fearful 
 abyss; seeing that she could never bear to w^alk it, I 
 lifted her in my arms and rapidly carried her to the other 
 end, and set her down upon her feet. A moment's rest 
 after the fright it gave her, and she was able to walk. 
 
 " Come, sister, we will go out on the spur of the Little 
 Hurricane, and see what the devils are doing ; they may 
 be gone ere this; who knows?" 
 
 Rising to her feet, she followed with a firm step ; but 
 scarcely had we traversed half the distance, when a huge 
 column of smoke darkened the horizon. Alarmed at 
 this, we quickened ouj? pace and soon arrived on the end 
 of the spur, and keeping well under the cover of the 
 bushes, we crept out to a huge rock on the top of a bluff, 
 and peering cautiously down into the valley, we beheld 
 our father's house in flames. 
 
 The guerrillas were just in the act of mounting tlieir 
 horses to ride off; their horses were loaded with plunder, 
 and they had taken the family carriage and only remain- 
 ing wagon, and loaded them with s.uch things as they 
 could not carry on horseback, and were now about start- 
 ing away with their booty. There stood our gray-haired 
 father in front of his burning dwelling, his long gray hair 
 streaming in the wind; his head was bowed upon his 
 bosom ; with one arm he clasped my mother to his side, 
 while her head rested upon his shoulder; they looked 
 
HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 4Y3 
 
 heart-broken. As thej stood there regarding the destruc- 
 tion of their property, I knew that great hot tears were 
 coursing down their aged cheeks. 
 
 "0 brother, we are ruined, we are beggars, now," 
 sobbed my sister, as we turned back toward the main 
 mountain. 
 
 "Not so bad as that, I hope," I said, encouragingly; 
 " not so bad as that," but she only sobbed the more. 
 
 Hastily concealing Mary behind an enormous tree, I 
 took the trail back to the cave, fully intent upon settling 
 with my prisoner, whom I had left there under guard. 
 On reaching the cave I called my friends out and related 
 the whole affair as I had heard it, and then asked their 
 advice as to what w^ should do with the prisoner, and 
 their unanimous verdict was — "Hang him." 
 
 There was no time to lose. In my own mind I had 
 fully resolved to kill him, from the moment he came in 
 sight, and saw him flourish the bowie-knife across my 
 sister's face, thus trying to frighten her to consent to her 
 own infamy. But when the vote was taken to hang him, 
 I shrank from the task with a shudder. Better iad I 
 shot him w^hen he had made his first assault upon her. 
 He would then have been killed in the heat of passion, 
 and I would never have given it a second thought ; but 
 now, to hang him seemed so heartless, so bloodthirsty, so 
 cruel, that for some minutes I could not bring my mind 
 to consent to it. Then a solemn conviction of duty. came 
 over me, and I voted " Aye." 
 
 We cast lots to see who should act as executionet* ; the 
 lot fell upon Thompson, but all were to assist. Going to 
 -him we unbound his feet, and told him to rise. 
 
 " Well, Yance," said Thompson, " I've got a little busi- 
 ness with you, my boy." 
 
 "Kame it," said Yance. 
 
 " Why, we've ben a considerin' this matter that you've 
 been engaged in, an' we've concluded to hang you." 
 
 At this announcement the prisoner's knees smote 
 
474 HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 
 
 together, his face turned lividly pale, his lips were blood- 
 less, and as he stood in the dark shadows of the cave, he 
 seeme'd more like some gnome froto the spirit land than 
 a human being. For some moments he stood in speech- 
 less terror, and then faintly gasped : — 
 
 " Mercy, mercy, men, mercy !" 
 
 "Thar's no use o' talkin' about mercy now," said 
 Thompson ; " you had oughter thought about that mercy 
 when you was a totin' that gal to this den to ravish her ! 
 If my ears sarved me right, I think she mentioned that 
 delicate attribute of human natur, in terms loud enough 
 to have made a devil hear it, but you only swung your 
 bowie-knife over her head, and told her to keep still. Now, 
 that is just the advice I'll give to you under your pre- 
 sent circumstances — keep still." 
 
 " Men, you don't intend to murder me, do you ? Oh, do 
 let me live ; don't take my life !" 
 
 " Now, that all sounds very purty, comin' from your 
 mouth, Charley Yance ; but why didn't you think of all 
 that when you was a hangin' Jack Allowine, down in 
 Georgia, last spring ? Now, Jack talked mity sweet for 
 his life, an' he even promised to go into the rebel army 
 if you would spare him, but you insisted on his bein' 
 hung. So I am a thinkin' you have no right to complain, 
 for turn about is fair play, you know." 
 
 Thompson's voice was cold and harsh as he said this, 
 and the guerrilla, lost all hope, when he found that we 
 knew of his many crimes. 
 
 "An' how about the widder Jones' boy on Sequatchie ?" 
 pursued Thompson ; " he thought marcy was a good thing 
 to have along too, but you shot him dead at his mother's 
 feet, with your own hands, because he wouldn't go into 
 the rebel army. How did the widder's voice sound, when 
 she axed you for marcy for her boy ?" 
 
 " But, men, you don't intend to send me into eternity 
 with all my sins on my head, do you ? You will give 
 me time to pray, will you not ? Let me live till to- 
 
^HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 4^5 
 
 HQorrow morning; let me have time to prepare for 
 death!" 
 
 " Oh, well, now, look'ee 'yer ; do you think we're'a goin' 
 to fool away twenty-four hours with a 'tarnal bush- 
 whacker ? You can jist have five minutes to pray, by 
 the watch, and not another minute, so you had better 
 kneel, an' be at it." 
 
 Leaving the prisoner alone with his God in the gloom 
 of the cave, we went outside of the door to decide on a 
 suitable place for the execution. Glenn proposed to 
 take him out to the end of the mountain to a noted high 
 clifi; called Tower Eock, to hang him: This idea was 
 adopted by unanimous consent. As soon as the five 
 minutes were up we took him to the designated place, 
 carrying with us the forage line from his own saddle, to 
 do the work with. Arriving at the place of execution, 
 we allowed him the privilege of praying for one minute, 
 but he only gasped convulsively. 
 
 " Men, I can't pray. Oh, let me live I" 
 
 As we had passed almost in sight of the old house, 
 Hodges had stepped off toward it, and soon after rejoined 
 us carrying a strong plank. At the Tower Eock, he 
 took Thompson an.d Glenn to one side, and for a few 
 moments they were engaged in a subdued conversation. 
 Presently they came back, and stepping to a cedar tree 
 that grew near the verge of the clifi' they shoved one 
 end o# the plank out over the precipice, and bound the 
 other end down to the root with a piece of the forage 
 line, while a still longer piece was used as a safeguard 
 to catch the board after it should have fallen, a short 
 distance. Then turning to the prisoner, Thompson ad- 
 dressed him with : — 
 
 "Yance, your time has come," and began to adjust the 
 rope about his neck. This done, they led him to the 
 plank and placed him on it, and while they were fasten- 
 ing the other end of the rope about a root of the same 
 tree, Glenn told the prisoner if he had any confession to 
 make, to do it now, it would ease his soul. 
 
476 HOW THE ALABAMA UNIONISTS HUNG A GUERRILLA. 
 
 "Do you tbink it will ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, I do," was the reply. 
 
 The villain reflected a few moments, as if to refresh 
 his memory, and then began and poured forth such a 
 tale of crime, as that to this day I shudder when I think 
 of its recital. Eobbery, murder, rape, he admitted, were 
 chargeable to him; crimes that had been committed 
 months before, and which were so glaring and outrage- 
 ous in their nature, that the Confederate authorities had 
 offered immense rewards and preferment to any one who 
 should ferret out the perpetrators, he confessed had been 
 committed by him and his accomplices. 
 
 Our time was precious. He began to offer something in 
 extenuation of his villanous career, but after bandaging 
 his eyes Thompson ordered him to step out on the plank. 
 He advanced two steps and stooped back, trembling in 
 every joint. 
 
 "Turn your thoughts to God," said Glenn. 
 
 " May the Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on his ever- 
 lasting soul," said Thompson, as he severed the cord 
 from the root, and the next instant the plank tilted, and 
 the trembling wretch was launched over the precipice, and 
 hung dangling five hundred feet abov-e the valley below. 
 
 " Thar, now, that is one guerrilla less to contend against, 
 and perhaps many an honest man's life saved," said 
 Thompson, as he coolly closed his knife, and dropped it 
 back into the depths of his capacious pocket. 
 
 The body swayed violently a few seconds, when we 
 heard the strands of the line crack, and looking down at 
 the place where it passed over the edge of the sharp rock, 
 it was cut nearly in two ; another sway like the vibration 
 of a pendulum, and the remaining strands of the rope 
 .parted, and the body fell with the speed of a rocket to 
 the foot of the frowning bluff. We heard a dull, heavy 
 boom resounding through the mountain solitude, and the 
 next moment > turned away and went back to the old 
 shanty almost without a word. 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF BOOTH. 4YV 
 
 INCIDENTS IN THE PUESUIT OE BOOTH. 
 
 The few Unionists of Prince George's and Charles 
 counties, long persecuted and intimidated; came forward 
 and gave important testimony. 
 
 -Among these was one Roby, a very fat and very zeal- 
 ous old gentleman, whose professions were as ample as 
 his perspiration. He told the officers of the secret meet- 
 ings for conspiracy's sake at Lloyd's Hotel, and although 
 a very John Gilpin on horseback, rode here and there to 
 his great loss of wind and repose, fastening fire coals 
 upon the guilty or suspected. • - 
 
 Lloyd was turned over to Mr. Cottingham, who had 
 established a jail at Robytown ; that night his house was 
 searched, and Booth's carbin^ found hidden in the wall. 
 Three days afterwards, Lloyd himself confessed. 
 
 The little party, under the untiring Lovett, examined 
 all the farm-houses below Washington, resorting to many 
 shrewd expedients, and taking note of the great swamps 
 to the east of Port Tobacco ; they reached Newport at 
 last, and fastened tacit guilt upon many residents. 
 
 Beyond Bryantown they overhauled the residence of 
 Dr. Mudd and found Booth's boots. This was before 
 Lloyd confessed, and was the first positive trace the 
 officers had that they were really close upon the assas- 
 sins. 
 
 I do not recall anything more wild and startling than 
 this vague and dangerous exploration of a dimly known, 
 hostile, and ignorant country. To these few detectives 
 we owe much of the subsequ.ent successful precaution of 
 the pursuit. They were the Hebrew spies. 
 
 By this time the country was filling up with soldiers, 
 but previously a second memorable detective party went 
 out under the personal command of Major O'Bierne. It 
 consisted, besides that officer, of Lee, D'Angelis, Calla- 
 han, Hoey, Bostwick, Hanover, Bevins, and McHenry, 
 
478 INCIDENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF BOOTH. 
 
 and embarked at Washington on a steam -tug for 
 Chappell's Point. Here a military station had long 
 been established for the prevention of blockade and m/iil 
 running across the Potomac. It was commanded by 
 Lieutenant Laverty, and garrisoned by sixty-five men. 
 On Tuesday night Major O'Bierne's party reached this 
 place, and soon afterwards a telegraph station was estab- 
 lished here by an invaluable man to the expedition, Cap- 
 tain Beckwith, General Grant's chief cipher operator, 
 who tapped the Point Lookout wire, and placed the War 
 Department within a moment's reach of the theatre of 
 events. 
 
 Major O'Bierne's party started at once over the worst 
 road in the world for Port Tobacco. 
 
 If any place in the world is utterly given over to de- 
 pravity, it is Port Tobaccct. From this town, by a sinu- 
 ous creek, there is flat-boat navigation to the Potomac, 
 and across that river to Mattox Creek. Before the war 
 Port Tobacco was the seat of a tobacco aristocracy and a 
 haunt of negro traders. It passed very naturally into a 
 rebel post for blockade-runners and a rebel post-office 
 general. Gambling, corner fighting, and shooting matches 
 w-^re its lyceum education. Violence and ignorance had 
 every suffrage in the town. Its people were smugglers, 
 to all intents, and there was neither Bible nor geography 
 to the whole region adjacent. Assassination was never 
 very unpopular at Port Tobacco, and when its victim 
 was a Northern President, it became quite heroic. A 
 month before the murder a provost- marshal near by was 
 slain in his bed-chamber. For such a town and district 
 the detective police were the only effective missionaries. 
 
 The hotel here is called the Brawner House ; it has a 
 bar in the nethermost cellar, and its patrons, carousing 
 in that imperfect light, look like the denizens of some 
 burglar's crib, talking robbery between their cups; its 
 dining-room is dark and tumble-down, and the cuisine 
 bears traces of Kaffir origin ; a barbecue is nothing to a 
 
INCIDENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF BOOTH. 4Y9 
 
 dinner there. The court-liouse of Port Tobacco is the 
 most superfluous house in the place, except the church. 
 It stands in the centre of the town, in a square, and the 
 dwellings lie about it closely, as if to throttle justice. 
 Five hundred people exist in Port Tobacco ; life there 
 reminds me, in connection with the slimy river and the 
 adjacent swamps, of the great reptile period of the world, 
 when ignanadons, and pterodactyls, and pleosauri ate 
 each other. 
 
 Into this abstract of Gomorrah the few detectives went 
 like angels who visited Lot. They pretended to be 
 inquiring for friends, or to have business designs, and the 
 first people they heard of were Harold and Atzeroth. 
 The latter had visited Port Tobacco three weeks before 
 the murder, and intimated at that time his design of flee- 
 ing the country. But everybody denied having seen him 
 subsequent to the crime. 
 
 Atzeroth had been in town just prior to the crime. 
 He had been living with a widow woman, named Mrs. 
 Wheeler, and she was immediately called upon by Major 
 O'Bierne. He did not tell her what Atzeroth had done^ 
 but vaguely hinted that he had committed some terrible 
 crime, and that since he had done her wrong, she could 
 vindicate both herself and justice by telling his where- 
 abouts. The woman admitted that Atzeroth had been 
 her bane, but she loved him, and refused to betray him. 
 
 His trunk was found in her garret, and in it the key 
 to his paint shop in Port Tobacco. The latter was fruit- 
 lessly searched, but the probable whereabouts of Atzeroth 
 in Montgomery County obtained, and Majgr O'Bierne 
 telegraphing there immediately, the desperate fellow ^as 
 found and locked up. A man named Crangle, who had 
 succeeded Atzeroth in Mrs. Wheeler's pliable affections, 
 was arrested at once and put in jail. A number of dis- 
 loyal people were indicated or " spotted" as in no wise 
 angry at the President's taking off, and for all such a 
 provost prison was established. 
 
480 INCIDENTS IN THE PURSUIT OP BOOTH. 
 
 A few miles from Port Tobacco dwelt a solitary woman, 
 who, when questioned, said that for many nights she had 
 heard, after she had retired to bed, a man enter her cellar 
 and be there all night, departing before dawn. Major 
 O'Bierne and the detectives ordered her to place a lamp 
 in her window the next night she heard him enter ; andi 
 at dark they established a cordon of armed ofiicers around, 
 the place. At midnight punctually she exhibited the 
 light, when the officers broke into the house and 
 thoroughly searched it, without result. Yet the woman 
 positively asserted that she had heard the man enter. 
 
 It was afterwards found that she was of diseased mind. 
 
 By this time the military had come up in considerable 
 numbers, and Major O'Bierne was enabled to confer with 
 Major Wait, of the Eighth Illinois. 
 
 The major had pushed on, on Monday night, to Leon- 
 ardstown, and pretty well overhauled that locality. 
 
 It was at this time that preparations were made to hunt 
 the swamps around Chapmantown, Bethtown, and Allen's 
 Fresh. Booth had been entirely lost since his departure 
 from Mudd's house, and it was believed that he had either 
 pushed on for the Potomac or taken to the swamps. The 
 of&cers sagaciously determined to follow him to the one 
 and to explore the other. 
 
 The swamps tributary to the various branches of the 
 Wicomico River, of which the chief feeder is Allen's 
 Creek, bear various names, such as Jordan's Swamp, 
 Atchall's Swamp, and Scrub Swamp. There are dense 
 growths of dogwood, gum, and beech planted in sluices 
 of water and bog, and their width varies from a half 
 mile to four miles, while their length is upwards of six- 
 teen miles. Frequent deep ponds dot this wilderness 
 place, with here and there a stretch of dry soil, but no 
 human being inhabits the malarious extent; even a 
 hunted murderer would shrink from hiding there. Ser- 
 pents and slimy lizards are the only denizens ; sometimes 
 the coon takes refuge in this desert from the hounds, and 
 
. INCIDENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF BOOTH. 481 
 
 in tlie soft mud a thousand odorous muskrats delve, 
 and now and then a tremulous otter. But not even tho 
 hunted negro dare to fathom the treacherous clay, nor 
 make himself a fellow of the slimy reptiles which reign 
 absolute in this terrible solitude. Here the soldiers pre- 
 pared to seek for the President's assassin, and no search 
 of the kind has ever been so thorough and patient. The 
 Shawnee in his stronghold of despair in the heart of the 
 Okeefenokee, would scarcely have changed homes with 
 Wilkes Booth and David Harold, hiding in this inhuman 
 country. 
 
 The military forces deputed to pursue* the fugitives 
 were seven hundred men of the Eighth Illinois Cavalry, 
 six hundred men of the twenty-second Colored Troops, 
 and one hundred men of the Sixteenth New York. These 
 swept the swamps by detachments, the mass of them dis- 
 mounted, with cavalry at the belts of clearings, inter- 
 spersed with detectives at frequent intervals in the rear. 
 They first formed a strong picket cordon entirely around 
 the swamps, and then, drawn np in two orders of battle, 
 advanced boldly into the bogs by two lines of march. 
 One party swept the swamps longitudinally, the other 
 pushed straight across their smallest diameter. 
 
 . A similar march has not been made during the war; the 
 soldiers were only a few paces apart, and in steady order 
 they took the ground as it came, now plunging to their 
 armpits in foul sluices of gangrened water, now hope- 
 lessly submerged in slime, now attacked by legions of 
 wood-ticks, now tempting some imfaithful log or green- 
 ishly solid morass, and plunging to the tip of the skull in 
 poisonous stagnation ; the tree boughs rent their uniforms; 
 they came out upon dry land many of them without a 
 rag of garment, scratched, and gashed, and spent, repug- 
 nant to themselves, and disgusting to those who saw them ; 
 but not one trace of Booth or Harold was anywhere 
 found. Wherever they might be, the swamps did not 
 contain them. 
 81 
 
4&2 INCIDENTS IN THE PURSUIT OP BOOTH. . 
 
 While all this was going on a force started from Point 
 Lookout, and swept the narrow necks of St. Mary's quite 
 up to Medley's Neck. To complete the search in this 
 part of the country Colonel Wells and Major O'Bierne 
 started; with a force of cavalry and infantry, for Chappell 
 Point. They took the entire peninsula, as before, and 
 marched in close skirmish line across it, but without 
 finding anything of note. The manner of inclosing a 
 house was by cavalry advances, which held all the ave- 
 nues till mounted detectives came up. Many strange and 
 ludicrous adventures occurred on each, of these expedi- 
 tions. While the forces were ^ going up Cobb's Neck 
 there was a counter force coming down from Allen's 
 Fresh. 
 
 Major O'Bierne started for Leonardstown with his 
 detective force, and played off Laverty as Booth, and 
 Hoey as Harold. These two advanced to farm-houses 
 and gave their assumed names, asking at the same time 
 for assistance and shelter. They were generally avoided, 
 except by one man named Claggert, who told them they 
 might hide in the woods behind his house. When Clag- 
 gert was arrested, however, he stated that he meant to 
 tide only to give them up. While on this adventure, 
 a man who had heard of the reward came very near 
 shooting Laverty. The ruse now became hazardous, and 
 the detectives resumed their real characters. 
 
 One Mills, a rebel mail-carrier, also arrested, saw Booth 
 and Harold lurking along the river bank on Friday ; he 
 referred Major O'Bierne to one Claggert, a rebel, as 
 having seen them also ; but Claggert held his tongue 
 and went to i^i\. On Saturday night, Major O'Bierne, 
 thus assured, also crossed the Potomac with his detec- 
 tives to Boone's farm, where the fugitives had landed. 
 While collecting information here a gun-boat swung up 
 the stream, and threatened to open fire on the party. 
 
 It was now night, and all the party worn to the ground 
 with long travel and want of sleep. Lieutenant Laverty's 
 
SWEARING A CONTRABAND. 48^ 
 
 men went a short distance down the country and gave 
 np, and Major O'Bierne, with a single man, pushed all 
 night to King George's Court House, and next day, Sun- 
 day, re-embarked for Chappell's Point. Hence he tele- 
 graphed his information, and asked permission to pursue, 
 promising to catch the assassins before they reached Port 
 Eoyal. 
 
 This the department refused. Colonel Baker's men 
 were delegated to make the pursuit with the able Lieu- 
 tenant Doherty, and O'Bierne, who was the most active 
 and successful spirit in the chase, returned to Washing- 
 'ton, cheerful and contented. 
 
 SWEAEIira A GONTEABAND. 
 
 Company K, of the first Iowa Cavalry, stationed in 
 Tennessee, received into their camp a middle-aged but 
 vigorous contraband. Innumerable questions were being 
 propounded to him, when a corporal advanced observ- 
 ing — " See here, Dixie, before you can enter the service 
 of the United States you must be sworn." 
 
 "Yes, massa, I do dat," he replied; when the corporal 
 continued : — 
 
 "Well, then, take hold of the Bible," holding out a letter 
 envelope, upon which was delineated the Goddess of Lib- 
 erty, standing on a Suffolk pig, wearing the emblem of 
 bur country. The negro grasped the envelope cautiously 
 with his thumb and finger, when the corporal proceeded 
 to administer the oath by saying: — 
 
 "You do solemnly swear that you will support the 
 Constitution of the United States, and see that there are 
 no grounds floating upon the coffee at all times." 
 
 " Yes, massa, I do dat," he replied ; " I allers settle 
 him in de coffee-pot." 
 
 Here he let go the envelope to gesticulate by a down- 
 
484 GEN. m'call's first escape. 
 
 ward thrust of his forefinger the direction that would be 
 given to the coffee grounds for the future. 
 
 "Never mind how you do it," shouted the corporal, 
 " but hold on to the Bible." 
 
 " Lordy, massa, I forgot," said the negro, as he darted 
 forward and grasped the envelope with a firmer clutch, 
 when the corporal continued : — 
 
 "And you do solemnly swear that you will support 
 the Constitution of all loyal States, and not spit upon 
 the plates when cleaning them, or wipe them with your 
 shirt-sleeves." 
 
 Here a frown lowered upon the brow of the negro, his 
 eyes expanded to their largest dimensions, while his lips 
 protruded with a rounded form as he exclaimed : — 
 
 " Lordy, massa, I never do dat. I allers washes him 
 nice. Ole missus mighty 'ticular 'bout dat." 
 
 "Never mind ole missus," shouted the corporal, as he 
 resumed ; " and you do solemnly swear that you will put 
 milk into the coffee every morning, and see that the ham 
 and eggs are not cooked too much or too little." 
 
 " Yes, I do dat ; I'se a good cook." 
 
 "And lastly," continued the corporal, "you do solemnly 
 swear that when this war is over you'll make tracks for 
 Africa mighty fast." 
 
 " Yes, massa, I do dat. I allers wanted to go to Chee- 
 cargo." 
 
 Here the regimental drum beat up for dress parade, 
 when Tom Benton — that being his name — v/as declared 
 duly sworn in and commissioned as chief-cook in Com- 
 pany K; of the First Iowa Cavalry. 
 
 GEN. McOALL'S PIKST ESCAPE. 
 
 Gen. McCall had a narrow escape of capture on the 
 evening of the 27th June, after the battle of Gaines's Hill. 
 After the battle was over, Gen. McCall decided to seek 
 
GEN. M'CALL'S first ESCAPE. 485 
 
 tlie house which had been Gen. Porter's head-quarters in 
 the early part' of the day ; and, attended by an officer of 
 his staff, Major Lewis, of the Pennsjdvania Artillery, 
 started out in pursuit of it. 
 
 They mistook the road in the darkness; and after 
 riding nearly a mile, they came to a house which proved 
 to be a hospital. They were met at the door by a young 
 assistant-surgeon, who informed them he had sixty 
 wounded soldiers there, that he belonged to the regular 
 U. S. Army, and that the rebel pickets were on three 
 sides of him. He said that as it was neutral ground, 
 they had not attempted to molest him, but seriously, 
 advised the General and Major to get back to their lines 
 as soon as might be. 
 
 This advice they proceeded to avail themselves of, and 
 turned the corner of the hospital to return, but they had 
 not gone ten yards before they were greeted with the 
 short, sharp " halt" of the sentry. An orderly who had 
 attended them advanced at the command "Advance, friend, 
 and give the countersign," and responded, " Escort with 
 the general." 
 
 " What is his name ?" cried the guard. 
 
 " General McCall," answered the orderly. 
 
 "General what?" said the sentry. 
 
 " Gen. McCall." The picket, not seeming to recognize 
 or understand the name, the General rode forward and 
 repeated, " General McCall." 
 
 " Of what army ?" asked the sentinel. 
 
 " The Army of the Potomac," replied the General. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the guard; "but on what side?" 
 
 "The command of Major-General McClellan." 
 
 " The h — 11 you do," yelled the sentry, and he raised 
 his piece, two others doing the same, who had remained 
 quiet. V 
 
 The Major, who it seems had previously "smelled a 
 rat," having detected the southern accent in the queries, 
 had taken the precaution to quietly wheel his horse, and 
 
486 A FRIGHTENED AFRICAN. 
 
 as they fired, sank his spurs into him and plunged for- 
 ward, taking the General's horse by the rein. They 
 dashed off, and although fired at more than twenty times 
 by the now aroused ecemy, succeeded in getting back 
 safely to camp, having suffered no injury except to their 
 horses, all of which were hit, and one killed. 
 
 A PKIGHTENED ArEIGAN. 
 
 A portly young contraband, who escaped from his 
 ^ebel master at Antietam, was engaged by one of our 
 junior staff officers as his body servant. The ofiicer had 
 served gallantly at Sharpsburg, where he had lost a leg, 
 below the knee, the absence of which had been made up 
 by an artificial limb, which the captain wore with so 
 easy a grace that few persons suspected his misfortune. 
 
 The captain had been " out to dine," and upon retiring, 
 he called his servant to assist in pulling off his boots. 
 
 "Wow, Jimmy, look sharp," said the captain; "I'm a 
 little — ic — flimsy, Jimmy, t'night. Look sharp, an' — ic — 
 pull steady." 
 
 " I'se allers keerful, cap'n," says Jimmy, drawing off 
 one long wet boot, and standing it aside. 
 
 "Now, mind your eye, Jim. The other is a little light 
 — easy, now — that's it. Pull away !" continued the cap- 
 tain, good naturedly, enjoyiDg the prospective joke, while 
 he loosened the straps about his waist, which held his 
 cork leg up, " now you've got it ! Yip — there you are I" 
 ."Oh, lord! oh, lord! oh, lordP^ screamed the captain, 
 as contraband, cork leg, riding-boots, and ligatures 
 tumbled across the tent, and fell back upon his pallet, 
 convulsed with spasmodic laughter. At this moment 
 the door opened and a lieul^nant entered. 
 
 " G'way fum me ; g'way fum ine ; lemmy be ! lemmy 
 be I I ain't dun nufiin," yelled the contraband, rushing 
 to the door, really supposing he had pulled his master's 
 leg clean off. 
 
CAPTURE OF JEFF. DAVIS. 48t 
 
 " Lemmy go ! I didn't do nuffin — gVay ! g'way !" 
 Jimmy put for the woods in desperation, and tlie 
 probabilities are that the darkey is running yet. 
 
 OAPTUEE OP JEPP. DAYIS. 
 
 General Debrell, who commanded his escort, was en- 
 gaged in the battle near Ealeigh, K. C, when he received 
 intelligence of the surrender of Lee, 'and at the same time 
 Wheeler got a despatch from Jeff*. Davis, dated at Greens- 
 boro', IST. C, calling for one thousand picked men to 
 escort him and what remained of his government to 
 Washoe, Ga. ■ 
 
 Debrell was accordingly despatched with the required 
 force, and after a march of three days reached Greensboro', 
 at which point he found JefP. Davis with his family, Judah 
 P. Benjamin, John C. Breckinridge, Senator Burnett, of 
 Kentucky, J. H. Eeagan, Postmaster-General, Gustavus 
 A. Hums, of Tennessee, and other rebel officials. 
 
 As soon as General Debrell arrived the party prepared 
 to march, and they set, out on the following day. Jeff. 
 Davis and the rebel officials rode in front, followed by 
 ambulances containiug the women and children, and the 
 specie, which was currently reported among the officers 
 to amount to eleven millions of dollars. It was put up 
 in heavy iron-bound kegs and boxes, and had a guard 
 of one thousand men led by General Debrell himself, 
 which followed this train. 
 
 At a point about five miles from Greensboro' they 
 encamped, the rebel president and family taking up their 
 quarters in a house in the vicinity. Here^he rank and 
 file first learned the object of their mission, and it was 
 discussed with all the surmises which it naturally excited, 
 the men being extremely anxious to know the destina- 
 tion of their government. 
 
 On the following day he visited the boys and made a 
 
488 CAPTURE OF JEFF. DAVIS. 
 
 soul-stirring speech, adverting to the disasters 'that had 
 overtaken their beloved Confederacy, but giving theni 
 every assurance that they were not irrevocably lost — 
 that all that was necessary to ultimate success was confi- 
 dence in their Government, and the undaunted bravery 
 which had characterized the Confederate Army during 
 its past career. 
 
 Upon taking up the line of march they rode in the 
 same order, Davis having by his side young Colonel 
 Johnson, son of General Albert Sydney Johnson, in whom 
 he evidently reposed the most implicit confidence. 
 
 They reached Charlotte, N. C, where they again 
 camped, and Davis harangued the men again, inspiring 
 confidence in them, and dealing in glowing words of 
 rebel patriotism. He appeared happy and cheerful, took 
 the boys by the hand, and entered into cheerful conver- 
 sation with them. He would praise their valor in the 
 presence of the ladies, and call them the faithful thousand, 
 the flower of the Confederacy, and paid other pretty but 
 not substantial compliments. 
 
 At this point they were joined by Basil Duke, Fer- 
 guson, and Yaughn, Tvhich increased the escort to the 
 magnificent proportion of five thousand men. 
 
 After the new comers had mingled with the others, 
 they soon learned the condition of things; and they, too, 
 had their surmises. Like a pack of hungry wolves, they 
 were suddenly reminded that the government was slightly 
 indebted to them, and as the treasure was near at hand 
 the idea of presenting their bills very naturally suggested 
 itself. 
 
 The men would congregate in groups, and their low 
 mutterings boded no good to the government. Jefif. found 
 it necessary to redouble his efibrts to conciliate, but his 
 eloquence was wasted now. The men obeyed their 
 marching orders, and followed Jeff, into South Carolina 
 to Abbeville, where they again halted, very much fatigued 
 and demoralized. 
 
CAPTURE OP JEFF. DAVIS. 489 
 
 On the Gtli things began to assume a new desperate 
 feature, and Davis found it politic to inspire his brave 
 boys Avith something more substantial than words. The 
 treasure was opened, and the division of General Debrell, 
 with the brigades of Duke, Ferguson, and Yaughn were 
 formed in line, and the soldiers were paid off. Some (y? 
 the men were paid $30, some $28, and others $20. They 
 were paid in gold and silver, the coin being chiefly 
 Mexican dollars, with a few United States. 
 
 In the evening Duke sent his Adjutant-General, Cap- 
 tain Davis, to notify all his men who wished to go west 
 of the Mississippi Eiver, to report at 11 o'clock on the 
 following day. At the appointed time all the men re- 
 ported, bat Duke refused to take only those who were 
 armed, and left the others to shift for themselves. 
 
 They heaped curses on Duke, and with heavy hearts 
 went to Washoe, Ga., where they surrendered themselves 
 to General Wilson, together with the brigades of Fergu- 
 son and Vaughn. 
 
 The command of General Debrell escorted JefP. Davis 
 to Yienna Yalley, on the west bank of the Savannah 
 Eiver, about twenty miles from Washington, when the 
 grand dissolution took place on the 9th. 
 
 At this point Benjamin, Breckinridge, Burnett, and 
 several others, took a last farewell of Davis and his 
 family. At the hour named, Jeff, and suite crossed the 
 river, and the other portion of the government galloped 
 off to Washington, their pocket-handkerchiefs in mourn- 
 ing. The command was apprised of the fact that they 
 were now left to follow the bent of their own inclina- 
 tions. Benjamin -and Breckinridge, with their friends, 
 no doubt reached the west bank of the Mississippi. 
 
 The camp where Jeff, was captured was situated in a 
 pine forest on the side of the Abbeville road, about one 
 mile from Irwinsville, Irwin County, Georgia. It con- 
 sisted of a large wall tent, containing only the arch traitor 
 and his family, and an ordinary "fly," containing the 
 
490 CAPTURE OF JEFF. DAVIS. 
 
 male portion of the caravan. Surrounding and con- 
 tiguous to these were two common army wagons, two 
 ambulances, and several horses and mules, with the 
 usual amount of camp-paraphernalia, such as saddles, 
 bridles, harness, cooking utensils, &c. Davis himself 
 and Postmaster Eeagan, with the two Colonels, Lubbock 
 and Johnson, aides-de-camp, had only overtaken the 
 party the night before, after a fatiguing journey from 
 Washington, Ga., where they had remained to "settle 
 some business,''^ as they say, while Mrs. Davis, with the 
 children and servants, had pushed forward, under the 
 protection and escort of Private Secretary Harrison and 
 a few of the faithful, such as Lieutenant Hathaway, Mid- 
 shipman Howell, and about twenty private soldiers. 
 
 It was near Washington where Davis dismissed his 
 escort and divided the spoils, under the most pressing 
 circumstances. Some of Stoneman's cavalry were hard 
 upon him, and he concluded to deceive them by letting- 
 them -follow the body of cavalry, while he and his friends 
 travelled incog across the country and joined his family. 
 To add to the horrors of his situation the escort demanded 
 a division of the contents of the kegs and boxes (gold and 
 silver), and he was obliged to delay some time and act as 
 paymaster. As far as I could learn the division was 
 very unequally made, some of the officers . receiving as 
 much as one hundred dollars and upwards, the lion's 
 share, while others not so exacting received a bare pit- 
 tance. This raised considerable disturbance in the camp, 
 and daring the melee Jeff, and his compagnons du voyage 
 skedaddled. 
 
 The attack was made upon the camp by- Colonel 
 Pritchard just as the first streak of dawn begail to light 
 the eastern sky. Everything was profoundly silent. 
 JefP. was undoubtedly dreaming of his former greatness, 
 and the entire party were wrapped in the somnambulent 
 embrace of Morpheus, when they were suddenly startled 
 by the yells of the soldiers, and awoke too late to make 
 
CAPTURE OF JEFF. DAVIS. 491 
 
 preparations for even a feeble resistance. After the 
 officers and men in the "fly" were safely under guard, 
 which occupied some time, a corporal went to the door 
 of the tent occupied by defunct royalty, and ordered 
 them to come forth and deliver themselves up. Mrs., 
 Davis appeared at the door, and said : — 
 
 " Please, gentlemen, do not intrude upon the privacy 
 of ladies. There are no gentlemen here, and you will 
 oblige us greatly by giving us time to dress." 
 
 " All right, madam," said the little corporal ; " we will 
 give you time to make your toilet, and then you can take 
 a ride to Macon for your health." 
 
 A guard was placed around the tent, and the reader's 
 imagination must draw from the denouement what tran- 
 spired inside. After a half hour's interval the monotony 
 outside only being broken by the demands of the guard 
 to " hurry up," there came to the door Mrs. Davis and 
 Miss Howell, leading an apparently decrepit old lady, 
 dressed in a lady's morning wrapper, with a tight hood 
 on her head and her face covered with a small veil. The 
 " old lady" could walk only with difficulty, but tottered 
 through the door of the tent with a tin««pail on her arm. 
 
 " Soldier, I suppose you have no objection to letting 
 my old mother go to the spring for some water for us 
 to wash with?" said Mrs. Davis. 
 
 " Wall, I reckon I have some little objection to letting 
 that old lady go," said the corporal. " She wears boots, 
 don't she ?" and with the point of his sabre he raised the 
 frock, discovering a large coarse pair of calfskin boots. 
 While the corporal was discovering and exhibiting the 
 cloven feet of the beast, another soldier stripped the veil 
 and hood from off his face, and lo ! the great ass which 
 has so long been hidden 'neath a lion's skin — Jeff. Davis 
 • — stood before them in all his pusillanimity, and in his 
 true character, before the light of which Henry YIII. 
 pales and Eichard III. rises in the scale of human great- 
 ness. 
 
492 CAPTURE OF JEFF. DAVIS. 
 
 When Jeff, saw tliat lie was fairly canght, and would 
 be delivered into the hands of his enemies, he waxed 
 exceeding wroth, and railed out at the soldiers when- 
 ever opportunity aftbrded. He frequently made use of 
 such sneering remarks as : — 
 
 "Yalorous soldiers, indeed, to make war upon women 
 and children." " I thought the Yankee Government was 
 a little more valorous than to send its soldiers to steal 
 defenceless women and children out of their beds at 
 .night, &c." 
 
 Mrs. Davis ironically remarked that she "was not aware 
 that an old woman and four chiklren were of so much 
 value as to be escorted by three hundred soldiers through 
 the country." 
 
 I have not yet mentioned the effect produced upon 
 Davis by the President's proclamation offering a reward 
 of one hundred thousand dollars for his arrest. I have 
 often tried to imagine the terror of Belshazzar when he 
 read hie doom in the handwriting on the wall, or the 
 horror of the murderer when the hands of the officers of 
 the law are laid rudely upon him. Such, but*n a vastly 
 magnified degree, must have been the feelings of Jeff. 
 Davis when he read that proclamation. As his eyes 
 glanced over the fatal lines, I have thought that he must 
 have come to the first realization of his condition. He 
 trembled like an aspen leaf, dropped the paper from his 
 hands, and sank into reveries and sullenness. His wife 
 picked up the paper, read its contents audibly, and they 
 all burst into tears. 
 
 Colonel Pritchard and escort arrived at Macon about 
 four o'clock on the afternoon of May 12th, 1865. For 
 miles along the streets and on the road on which the 
 cortege was expected to arrive were strung squads of 
 people eager to catch one glance of the man who but so 
 recently had been their sovereign, and at whose doors so 
 many crimes and sins were laid. Their curiosity, how- 
 ever, was not gratified to any considerable extent, as he 
 
CAPTURE OF JEFF. DAVIS. 493 
 
 rode in a close ambulance; and when lie alighted at the 
 Lanier House (General Wilson's headquarters), the guard 
 obstructed their vision. Dinner was already prepared, and 
 the prisoners partook of it with a relish. After dinner 
 Postmaster Eeagau, who it seems had taken the contract 
 to see " the President" (?) safe through to Texas, was 
 admitted to General Wilson's room, where were congre- 
 gated several officers, including the general himself, and 
 the writer of this article. Eeagan told General Wilson 
 that he wished to ask his permission to accompany " the 
 President" to Washington, adding that he had shared 
 with him his prosperity — (exactly so ; vide the bills of 
 exchange drawn on London in his name) — and did not 
 wish to desert him in the hour of his adversity. On 
 receiving assurances that he would be permitted to 
 accompany him he expressed his gratitude. 
 
 " You are under no obligations, sir," said the General, 
 "for I should have sent you, whether you wanted to go 
 or not. You are a civilian prisoner, and he is a prisoner 
 both military and civil." 
 
 The party was joined here by Clement C. Clay and 
 
 (his wife, they having come from Lagrange (their home) 
 
 the previous day, and' surrendered themselves to General 
 
 Wilson. The meeting between Davis and Clay was 
 
 very cordial, and Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Clay were very 
 
 I affectionate to each other. The affections and feelings of 
 
 jthe two families seemed to run in one and the same 
 
 I channel, and they were often caught in secret counsel to- 
 
 Igether, and separated by the guard. While in conver- 
 
 |sation with Colonel Pritchard and myself, Mrs. Clay 
 
 I jocularly remarked that as she brought Mr. Clay to 
 
 i Macon she should claim the reward. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Davis, "one hundred thousand dollars 
 would be considerable of an amount of pocket change 
 for us poor unfortunates now. I sold my horses, carriages, 
 silver ware and jewelry for what little money I had, and 
 that has been stolen from me." 
 
494 CAPTURE OF JEEF. DAVIS. 
 
 I could not see, however, any lack of jewelry about 
 her person, as she ported two splendid diamond rings 
 upon one finger. 
 
 Nothing further of interest occurred during the r^ute 
 from Macon to Atlanta, as it was in the night, and most 
 ,^ of the party, weary and sleepy, went off* into deep 
 slumber. 
 
 At Atlanta General Upton had a train, an escort, and 
 a warm breakfast in waiting for us, and, after about an 
 hour's delay, we were off' for Augusta. General Upton 
 and two of his staff' officers accompanied us. From Au- 
 gusta we proceeded to Port Koyal, where the prisoners 
 were transferred to a steamer and carried to Fortress 
 Monroe. 
 
 Here, on the " sacred soil of Virginia," but a little dis- 
 tance from the scenes of his former greatness, the rebel 
 president was placed in "durance vile." And thus 
 dropped the curtain on the last prominent act in the 
 great drama of the rebellion. 
 
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 Gamblers, Desperadoes, etc. etc. By Warren Wildwood, Esq. Illus- 
 trated by 200 eagravings. 12mo., cloth. Price $1 75. 
 
 'pHRILLING INCIDENTS IN THE WARS OF THE 
 
 UNIT!^ STATES. Embracing all the Wars previous to the Rebellion. 
 With 300 engravings. 12mo., cloth. Price $1 76. 
 
 QUR BOYS. The rich and racy scenes of Army and Camp 
 Life, as seen and participated in by one of the Rank and File. By A. 
 F. Hill, of the Eighth Pa. Reserves. With illustrations. 12mo., cloth. 
 Price $1 75. 
 
 QUR CAMPAIGNS; or, a Three Years' Term of Service in 
 the War. By E. M. Woodward, Adjutant Second Pennsylvania Reserves. 
 12mo., cloth. Price $1 75. 
 
 ^HE BEAUTIFUL SPY. An exciting story of Army and 
 High Life in New York in 1776. By Charles Burdett. 12mo., oloth. 
 Price $1 75. 
 
 'pHE ROYALIST'S DAUGHTER AND THE REBELS. 
 
 A tale of the Revolution of unusual power and interest. By Rev. David 
 Murdoch, D. p. 12mo., cloth. Price $1 75. 
 
 'J^HE HERO GIRL, and how she became a Captain in the 
 Army. By Thrace Talmon. With illustrations. 12mo. , oloth. Prioo 
 
 $175. 
 
 fJUNTING ADVENTURES IN THE NORTHERN 
 
 WILDS. By S. H. Hammond. Illustrated. Cloth. Price $1 75. 
 
 ^ILD NORTHERN SCENES. By S. H. Hammond, au- 
 thor of "Hunting Adventures iB^tba JfjrtheM^^ilds. " Illustrated. 
 Cloth. Price $1 75. fc^" 'f U •^ ' " 
 
 pANNY HUNTER'S WESTERN ADVENTURES, Il- 
 lustrated. 12mo., cloth. Price $1 75. 
 

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