^X' .y •y ":r^. .A> •^.. ■\-' t/- v^' vOc ,0 o. O c3^ \ aN^' V ./ >0 o •*oo^ v^" rA'^ .'^' V X^^xf. •x^^' ^■'-■■. -0^ ^^ "k. "'J- sOo. '. o. V . s » ' / . ^■^ A-^ -^. c^- y-' aN ■'o-- ..^^ ■<^' •^ f;^'^'^ ^^ v^ A PHOTOGRAPH OF OUR OLD LIFE. SPARKS '""Z. CAMP FIRE. THRILLING STORIES OP Heroism, Adveiitiire, Daring and Suffering, RE-TOLD BY THE BOYS WHO WERE THERE. HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES AND THRILLING ADVENTURES OF SOLDIERS, SCOUTS, SPIES, AND refugees; DARING EXPLOITS OP GUERRILLAS, DESPERADOES, AND SMUGGLERS. BRILLIANT DEEDS OF THE U. S. SECRET SERVICE OFFICERS, ETC., ETC. WITH INCIDENTS OF MIRTH AND MERRIMENT IN CAMP AND FIELD. A TRUTHFUL ACCOUNT OP THE PRISON PENS OF DIXIE AND THE FORTITTJDE AND SUFFERING OF OUR BrAVE SoLDIER BoYS. ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS COPPERPLATE ENGRAVINGS ON INDIA BACKGROUND, DRAWN SPECIALLY BY THE WELL-KNOWN ARTIST OF " PUCK," "TEXAS SIFTINGS," "bTC. LlEUT.-COLONEL ChARLES S. GrEENE, Late of U. S. Army ; Member of Staff of Major-General John F. Hartranft Clerk of the Supreme Court of the State of Penna., Etc., AND others. '^^V ( !V1AV 1 188.^.' PHILADELPHIA: ^^^ '\l y The Keystone publishing "-^ ^ 1889. C»0 Copyright By the keystone PUBLISHING CO. 1889 ^ PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. We do not feel obliged to offer any apology for the publica- tion of " Sparks from the Camp Fire." The events of 1861- 65 will always form a conspicuous part of American history. The stories of the battle field and camp fire never grow old, nor does time detract one jot from their interest. They form the principal topic of conversation around the modern " camp fire," where the battle-scarred veterans of the late civil war meet and rehearse in peace and quietness the stirring episodes in which they have figured in by-gone years. Those there are who say " let by-gones be by-gones," " let us forget all about the war;" but we cannot endorse these sentiments. Men who talk thus are not those whose life-blood watered the gory field — not those who went promptly to the front when danger threatened, ready to sacrifice life or limb upon the altar of patriotism. As a general rule this cry pro- ceeds from the same class of self-righteous citizens who are always ready to oppose the granting of pensions, and to assist into positions of power men who, in the dark days of the early Sixties, stood with folded arms ready to embrace the cause of the victorious party, no matter which it might prove to be. "We know that the war is over ; the strife has ceased ; the victory has been won ; but the story of the great conflict will never diminish in interest, and the tales of veterans will always command respect and attention. Whatever is worth talking about is worth writing ; and whatever is worth writing is worth publishing. This volume contains nothing but true stories — real inci- (3) 4 PUBLISHERS PREFACE. dents — the truth of which has been thoroughly attested. Ko embellishments are needed to make such a work thrilling and interesting. The most gifted writer of fiction can add nothing to the romance of war stories, of which it may be truly said, " Truth is stranger than fiction." Let us keep alive the memories of the gallant deeds of 1861-65 1 Not with malice and bitterness, but with love, charity and thanksgiving. Let us encourage the rising gen- eration to honor the memory of the heroes now fast passing away. It will tend to promote patriotism and national pride — a result devoutly to be wished. The illustrations in this volume deserve special mention. We have spared neither pains nor expense to make them accurately lifelike and worthy of the subject-matter, and we feel sure that their realism and spirit will be recognized and com- mended by all those who have witnessed the scenes thus depicted. In conclusion we may say that the object of the compilers has been to chronicle merely the minor incidents of the great conflict. Detailed histories and official records must of ne- cessity be resorted to for the graver and weightier matters, for criticism or censure of the more prominent actors in the gory drama ; but this volume tells of the experience of private sol- diers, innumerable incidents of adventure and daring, items of personal endurance and sufl^ering, details of peril by flood and field — the rollicking, luxuriant humor of the camp crop- ping out on every page. It cannot fail to be interesting, and we now submit our work to the critical " inspection" of the " rank and file," in the hope that it may " pass muster" and that its readers may be num- bered in a very " long roll." THE PUBLISHERS. February, 1889. CONTENTS. Hie threat Railroiid Advcnturo A rrophotic Prosontiiuont Advouturo of a Spy The Negro Tillmau's Narrative Zagoiiyi's Famous Charge 'I'lie Fearlul Ordoul The Frighloiu'd Speculators The Daring Spy Little h'ddio, thi> "Prumnior-boy C>ld lU-n, tlio Mountain Scout , Surroumlini!: Fivo ot'TliiMU Arujy Wings, as exphiinod by ono of the Boys Irish Wit Ever Ready . Miss OhU>ni, the Kentucky Heroine Fighting on His own Hook Dalilgren's Famous Pash A Fighting Parson Taking it Coolly Too Mueh lor Her A Nameless Spy A Divriug Deed PAOK 11 19 20 22 2C 40 41 43 55 GO 71 71 72 73 74 81 83 85 86 86 02 ( T ) CONTENTS. Woulda'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 PAGl 93 93 94 94 98 100 CONTENTS. Sallie Richmond and Devil Bill Keutuck against Kentuck The Scout's Revenge AVhy the Lieutenant Ate the Pie A Gallant Lad . On the Cumberland A Chat about Stone River The Wrong Leg W hat it cost to be lioyal A Desperate Hand-to-Hand Contest Fists against Muskets . Killed in Action Drawing Rations 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 Refugee How the Secesh took Clark Wright A Race 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 Vandegrift Bragg and his High Private . , PAQl? 165 175 176 189 191 192 193 195 195 198 199 199 204 205 206 208 213 223 229 239 243 248 258 266 274 279 286 287 293 298 10 CONTENTS. The Eight Man in the Eight Place The Fight at Brandy . Not the Right " 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 Richmond . Attempted Assassination of Secretary Seward Sam De Morse the Guerrilla Death of Booth the Assassin . Hanging of the Conspirators How a Substitute Broker was Taken In How the Alabama Unionists Huug a Guerrilla Incidents in the Pursuit of Booth Swearing a Contraband Gen. McCall's First Escape A Frightened African . Capture of Jeff. Davis . They Were Both Scared Prison Pens of Dixie Libliv Piibon CONTENTS. PAGB Cuisine at " Hotel de Libby " ..... 498 Dungeons and Cells of Libby 500 Belle Isle .... 501 Guarding their Tobacco . 505 Burrowing in the Ground , 506 Salisbury, N. C. . 507 Hospitals at Salisbury 508 December at Salisbury 509 Massacre at Salisbury 510 Plans for Escape . 511 Libby Prison Ke-visited in 1888 . 512 Horrors of Andersonville 515 A Strange Meeting 522 A Pathetic Incident. 524 Army Corps Badges 525 Explanation of Plate 527 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. Selecting Fresh Eations. Diversions of a Short Halt . . A Lively Engagement The Spy's Encounter with a Bloodhound The Wide-awake Irish Sentinel A Prompt Resurrection Two Views of a Practical Joke The Boy Hero of the Bienville Home of Sallie Richmond and Devil Bill " Locked in Fearful Strife " . " What War? The Revolution " . Ike Barker " Whopped " . Fac-simile of Page from a Richmond Account Book, 1865 Escaping Prisoners Harbored by Negroes How Hopkins Gave the Countersign . All Night on Guard . The Tennessee Blacksmith's Defiance Bragg's High Private on the March Not Used to Salt Water Newcomer's Close Call Perils of Southern Unionists One of the Results of Belle Isle A Wreck from Andersonville Gunnybag Uniforms from Belle Isle A Southern " Slaughtei'-House " ^lap of Andersonville . , Chart of Corps Badges Frontispiece. Frontispiece. PAGE 11 22 94 112 114 163 167 188 206 212* 223 228 235 243 266 298 365 375 420 494 495 506 508 516 527 SPARKS FROM THE CAMP riRE. THE GEEAT KAILKOAD ADVENTUKE. 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 Chattanooga, Tenn. The railroads on which he relied for supplies and reinforcements, as well as for commu- nication with the eastern portion of rebeldom, formed an irregular 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 Virginia R. R. intersected this parallelogram at Chattanooga. 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 authority and direction of (11) 12 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE Gen. 0. M. Mitchell, whose division was then at Shelbj- ville, Tenn., for the purpose of destroying the communi- cation on the Georgia State R. R., 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 known courage and discretion. The mode of operation proposed was to reach a point on the road whei'e 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 difficulty 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 ultimate 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. THE 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 Eoad, where were encamped about twenty 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 was 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 office. 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 Rome 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. Where 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 Rome 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 circumstances. 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 Huntsville, 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 Volunteers. "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 young 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 he 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 flour 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. 1 iT they were so exhausted from the treatment to which 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-advo- 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. No 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 Robinson, 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 scaftbld. In an hour 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 Re- public should die, in the presence of its enemies. Among the revolting incidents which they mentioned in connec- tion with this cowardly butchery, was the fall of two of 2 18 THE GREAT RAILROAD ADVENTURE. the victims from the breaking of the ropes after they had been for some time suspended. On their beiyg re- stored to consciousness, they begged for an hour in which to pray and to prepare for death, but 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 Volunteers. 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, impa- 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 tliem 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 jail 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 carry away the bucket in which their supper had been brought. A PROPHETIC PRESENTIMENT. 19 This was followed by tlie 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 Richmond. There they were shut up in a room in Castle Thunder, where they shivered through the winter, 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 PKESENTIMENT. While Col. Osterhaus was gallantly attacking the centre of the enemy on the second day of the battle of Pea Ridge, 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? Remember, I speak to you as a dying man." " Certainly, my brave fellow ; but you will live to a good old age with your wife. Do not grow melancholy over a fancy or a dream." " You will see," was the response. 20 ADVENTURE OF A SPY. The picture cTianged 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 bj a grape-shot from one of the enemy's batteries. ADVENTUEE OF 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 sullen murmurs as they rushed through the gloom. The wind sighed in gentle accordance. He walked forty or fifty yards along the bank. Pie 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 skiff 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 OF 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 NARRATIYE. 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 revolvei', 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 "bowie," 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 NARRATIVE. 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 the 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, JSTova Scotia, 30 years of age ; and 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, cross-legged, 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 German), " 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 bow 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, " Now 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, and 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 on 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 all 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, t 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. 26 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. ZAGONTI'S PAMOUS OHAEGE. Among the foreign officers whom the fame of Gene- rill 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 overwhelmed 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 government 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. 2Y 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 twenty- 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. AVhile 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, which 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 ]n-isoners, and captured the steamers which Price had taken from Mulligan. From Lexington White came by way of Warrensburg to Warsaw. During this long and hazardous expedition the Prairie Scouts had been with- out tents, and depended for food upon the supplies they could take from the enemy. ]\Iajor White did not remain at Warsaw to recruit his health, seriously impaired by hardship and exposure. He asked for further service, and was directed to report 28 ZAGONYl's FAMOUS CHARGE. himself to General Siegel, by 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 qaite ill, and, unable to sta}^ 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 ti'oo]) 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 Sjouts numbered one hundred and thirty, so that the troop was nearly three hundred strong. CD The day was fine, the road good, and the little column pushed on merrily, hoping to 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 reinfoi'ce 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 Avould burst upon them. Zagonyi, therefore, took no counsel of prudence. He could not hope to 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 effects, would be worth the sacrifice it cost, llis daring resolve found unanimous and ardent assent with his zealous fol- 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 ZAGONYI S FAMOUS CHARGE. 25 men, driving his horses at a gallop. He knew nothing of the 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 swore that the Federal Major should die in expiation of his brothel's death. He was about to carry his inhuman threat into execution, Major White boldly facing him and sa3nng, " If my men were here, I'd give you all the revenge you want." At this moment a young ofl&cer, Captain Wroton by name — -of whom more hereafter — pressed through the throng, and placing himself in front of White, declared that he would ])rotect the prisoner Avith 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 rescue 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 50 ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. east. Along the northern 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 with 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 rifles, 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 lane 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 winds; there are deadlv marksmen lying behind the trees upon the heights, and lurking in the long ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 81 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 officers he gave the simple order, " Follow me ! do as I do!" and then, drawing up in front of his men, with 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 ! 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 compact column swept on it3 deadly purpose. Most of 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 their 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 them. 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 where 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 go 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. Tliese 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 CHARGE. 33 wasps driven by the leaden storm. Sliarp volleys pour out from the underbrush at the left, clearing wide gaps through their ranks. They leap the brook, take down the fence, and draw up under the shelter of the hill. Zagonyl looks around him, and to his horror sees that onl}^ a fourth of his men are with him. He cries, "They do not come — we are lost!" 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 !" 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 horse? are strewn along the lane. Kennedy is wounded in the arm and lies upon the stones, his faithful charger standing motionless beside him. Lieutenant Goft' received a wound in the thigh ; he kept his seat, and cried out, '-' The devils have hit me, but I will give it to them yet !" The remnant 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- baidcs, at the head of the first company of Scouts, was at the point where the first volley of musketry had been 8 34 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. received. The narrow laue was erowded "by a dense mass of struffofling horses, and filled with the tumult of battle. Captain Fairbanks says, and he is corroborated by several of his men who were near, 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'theif 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. AVhen 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 obej^ed it. When he reached the gap in the fence, made by Foley, 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, again, 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 a grassy slope, broken by occasional tree stumps, A lin« ZAGONYl'S FAMOUS CHAROE. 35 of fire upon the summit marks the position of the Rebel intantry, and nearer, and on the top of a lower eminence to the right, stand 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 reb '1 squad- ron scatters in disgraceful flight through the cornfields in the rear. The ba3's follow them, sabring the fugitives. Daj's after, the enemy's liorses lay thick among the uncut corn, Zagon^n holds his main body until Mathenyi disap- pears in the cloud of rebel cavalry ; then his voice rises through ihe air : "In opeu 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 revenge. 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 officers is caught around the shoulders by a grape- vine, and hangs dangling in the air until he is cut down by his friends. The rebel foot are flying in furious haste from the field. Some taJ^e refuge in the fair ground, some hurry 36 ZAQONYl'S TAMOUS CHARGE. into the cornfield, but the greater part run along the edge of the wood, swarm over the fence into the road, and hasten to the village. The Guardsmen follow. Zagonyi 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, Zagonyi's sabre-point descends upon his head, and his life blood leaps to the very top of the huge barn- door. The conflict now rages through the village — 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, killing 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 through 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 afterwards, " 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 pounded, and the Guard gathers in the Plaza. Not more ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. 37 than eighty mounted men appear ; the 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 3^ou 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 thcee horses 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 through the battle. The Major seeing him, said : — 38 ZAGONYI'S FAMOUS CHARGE. "Why are you here, Sergeant Hunter? Your place is with 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 madness to try and hold the town with his small force, exhausted by the long marcli and desperate fight. 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 AYhite 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. 89 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 asknig 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 tha 40 THE FEARFUL ORDEAL. foe had returned to the field; 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 m 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 PEARPUL OEDEAL. A private in a certain regiment was tried by a court- martial for deserting his post, and found guilty, tlie 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 piisoner was led forward blindfolded, and the usual words of preparation and command were given in a low, measured tone, by the officer in command. Daring 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 commantl, and delivered to him what really proved to be a reprieve. The shout " reprieve" fell upon the poor soldier's ear; THE FRIGHTENED SPECULATORS. 41 which was already strained to the utmost in anticipation of hearinsr 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 cofRn 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 })rcsence 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. THE PEIGHTENED SPECULATOES. While the Union troops occupied Oxford, Miss., a rery ridiculous rumor got afloat among outsiders that a tre- mendous rebel army was marching up from Grenada, and a few of the cotton-buyers, Avho 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 slc]U 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 of the army. They had just dozed off in uneasy slumbers when *3 THE FRIGHTENED SPECULATORS. a drum was beaten at rather an unusual hour, in some one of our distant camps. " O my Lord !" says Hammond, " there's the long roll ! The enemy are coming, sure enough ! There's going to be a battle right here ! 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. Some fun-loving acquaintance, or the boot-black of the hotel, if the hotel was guilty of that 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 oat 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 Moeford" — 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 liini shot. Finally, however, he was content with simply arresting 44 THE DARING SPY. him and sending liim, charged with disloyalty, to ones 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, tliat the Union was good enouo;h 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 liis 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 was 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 told him that if he would give a bond of one thousand dollars and take the oath of alle2;iance to the Southern Confederacy, he would release him and protect his property. After some hesitation — no other plan 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 liisfarm and lived a quiet life. Buying a span of horses, he devoted himself to the cultivation of his laud, seeing as few per- THE DARING SPY. 45 sons as he 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 upon 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 ofl&cers cog- nizant of his former arrest and escape rendered flight a second time necessary. He now went to the camp of General Donelson, with 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 Nashville, 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 readily upon passes given him by General Donelson, making several trips to Murlreea- borough and one to Cumberland Gap. Upon his return from the latter, he was arrested neai 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 toe 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 our 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 Kosinantish mare for a fine horse which Morford rode. The latter was not inclined to trade ; but objection was useless, and he finally jdelded, receiving seventy-five dollars in Con- federate money and the mare. The trade pleased 'he 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 bj THE DARING SPY. 47 endeavoring to purchase the balance of Morford's stock. He would not sell, however, as he wished to send them to his brother at Kichmond, by a person who had given public notice that he was soon going there. A fonrth drink made all supremely happy; at which juncture their prisoner asked permission to go to a friend's house, 3nly a quarter of a mile off, and sta)^ until morning, when ne would go with them to Murfreesborough. His friend of the horse trade, now very mellow, thought he need not o-o to MurfreesboroufTh at all, and said he would see what the others said about it. Finally it was concluded that he was " right," and might go ; whereupon 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, Geaeral 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 Bowlinsr Green, and Morford undertook to do it. Putting the document under the lining of his boot, he started fol* Gallatin, where he arrived safely. For some hours he sauntered around the place, lounged m 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 whiskey, a pound or two of salt, and some smaller articles, which he threw across his shoulder 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 army 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 -Woolford'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 woi'k 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 Cumberland Mountains, Bridgeport, Chattanooga, and other places of smaller note. He travelled usually in the guise of a sniuggler, actually obtaining orders for goods from prominent rebels, and sometimes the money TirK pAiirNa spy. 49 in advance, fillin,:^ tlicrn in Nasliville, and delivering the articles upon las next trip. Just htefore the battle of Stone R'ver he received a large order to be filled for the rebel hospitals, went to Nashville, procured tlje nKjdicine, and returned to McMinnville, when he delivered Kome of it. Thence he travelled to Brady ville, and thence to Murfreesborougli, arriving there just as the battle hegan. 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 woods near the railroad, where he also remained one day and part of another. The fight was now getting hot, and, fearful that somel)ody would recognizee him, he left Mur- freesborough on Friday, and went to McMinnville, lie 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 wound(}d men, when two soldiers arrived in search of him, Tlicir 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 lady acquaintance, with it he passed the guards, but, when once out of sight, turned off' from the Chattanooga road, and made his way safely to Nashville, General Rosecrans was now in possession of Murfrees- 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 wacron outside the rebel lines, he |)roc(;ed 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 officers the nisfht before, and that morning, from what I had seen before any other battle. Each man knew that defeat that day involved the fall of A¥ashington. ''■ 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 oft" 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. Bat, 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 was not very soriy for it, for I now and then got information which may have been worth somethins^. "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 sus|)ected. T saw a very fine horse lied up to a tree, and I wanted that horse. I came verv near succeeding. PIGHTINO 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, Avhizz, whizz, whistle, the balls flew by. It was a close pursuit, and a hard, long run. I passed our lines safe. Bat it was too much. My horse never was worth much after that. 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 before Fredericksburg. During a part of that fight we were troubled by the enemy's sharp-shooters. They were picking off our offi- 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 ammnnition. 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 f 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 OWN HOOK work, I would contrive in some way to haul off for re- pairs, and get among my friends. Some of the men at a battery not far oft' had heard the shell explode in the house where they knew I was firing, and discovering me, carried me oft" 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 verj^ handsome, it's true ; but I looked well enough for all practical pur- poses^and Ifelt still better. "Beiug 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 appea^ on the rolls of the army ; he had never been mustereu into the service ; in fact, the Government knew no such man as a soldier. Generals King, Hatch, aud Doubleday, 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 8 1 he had performed — services which 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 anomalous 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 nt once mastered into his regiment, to take effect from the day his company marched out of their native Bloomfield. This gave him pay for the whole 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. DAHLGEEN'S FAMOUS DASH. Gen. Burnside requested Gen. Sigel to make a cavalry reconnoissance of Fredericksburg. General Sigcl se- lected his body-guard, commanded by Captain Dahlgren, with sixty men of the First Indiana cavalry and a portion of the Sixth Ohio. It was no light task to ride forty miles, keep the movement concealed from the enemy, 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 tbcn, 6 82 dahlgren's FAMoi s dash. under the light of the full moon, rode rapidly over th9 worn-out fields of the Old Dominion, through by-roads, intending to dasli 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 impatientl}'. 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. Reaching 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 — mountina; of steeds — confusion and frio;ht 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. 80 and rider — the gory gashes of the sabre-stroke— a cheer- ing and hurraliing, and screaming of frightened women and children — a short, sharp, decisive contest, and the town was in the possession of the galhant men. Once the rebels attempted to recover what they had lost, but a second impetuous charge drove them back again, and Captain Dablgren 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. ''J'he one brave fellow who lost his life had fought throuoh 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 officer and ran his sabre through tlie 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 FIGHTINa PAKSON. Colonel Granville Moody, of the Seventy-fourth Ohio, is a famous Meihodist preacher from Cincinnati. 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 the first water, was hit four times at the battle of Murfreesborough, 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. Not long ago, General Negley 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 Bome more of the boys' mischief. I told them to give the rebels ' Hail Columbia ;' 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. He 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 briefl}^ 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 low !" 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 foi your country and your God — aim low 1" TOO MUCH FOR HER. 8ft 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 hosjiital, 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 oft" and w^eut out of sight near where the fighting was going on. TOO MUCH rOE HEE. 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 her guests, dropping his knife and fork, leaning back 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 jSTorth, 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. S'7 Circumstances occurred during that year by whicli this person was brought into contact with a Federal com- mander in Kentuclvy, 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 lie 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 left 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 fully 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 Southerner, Burrounded by 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 perplex'ty, 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, Avhen 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 Truesdinl. Perhaps the read(3r 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 Avorthlessness of the report of our spy to Bragg, because he had nothing else to tell him. For five days 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 moments after dark. It was cold and bleak wdnter weather, and he toasted himself before his comfortable fire, read books and papers, and conferred often with the Chief of Police and his assistant, afi^brding them, strangers that they were to that region of country, a fund of vnlunble information respecting the rebels of Kentucky ;iiid Ten- ucssee. He was a jnan of fine address and good Intel- A AA.MELESS SPY. 89 ■ectual attainments. When our man concluded it was about time for his return to Bragg's army, he was po- litely escorted by our mounted police to a proper point beyond our lines, and by a route where he would see 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 Murfreesbo rough, 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 ! After a brief stay, another trip was made by our man to Bi'agg'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 officers 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 sent back to Nashville to "fool that slow Dutchman, Rosecrans," 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 and to tlie 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 Kosecrans and Bragg each wanted instant and constant information as the armies approached. The minutiae of this man's work for four or iive days we need not stop to relate : it is easily imagined. AVithin 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 I'ailroad 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-fiehl, 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 then nbsent with his cavalry in Kentucky to destroy Eosecrans' mil- road communications (in which Morgan succeeded) — to return instantly with his command by forced marchea to A NAMELESS SPY. 91 Murfreesborough. 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 telegraplied at once to Nashville, 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 River were fought and Bragg was on his retreat from Murfreesborough by the time ]\Iorgan could have received the orders. Our spy was a brave man : yet during tlie 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 olTuters 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. lie 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 would 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 his 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 NorfoUv to Fort- ress Monroe with a flao- of truce, that near midnia-ht a six-oared boat was to leave Norfolk for Richmond with money for the payment of rebel soldiers. He requested permission of Major-General AVool 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 muffled, 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 Ibrrner, and arming him THE IRISH SENTINEL. 03 self Avith his pistol in one hand, and a dirk (taken by him at the Battle of Bull Run from a "secesli") in the other, he took them in his boat one by one, handcuffing them as thej 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 freio-ht. 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 oft" he went with hi& fowl prisoners. THE lEISH SENTINEL. A son of the Green Isle, a member of Gillam's Mid- dle Tennessee Regiment, while stationed at TSTashville, was detailed on guard duty on a prominent street of that city. It \yas 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 ! W ho comes there ?" " A citizen," was the response. " Advance, citizen, and give the countersign." 94 THE HOLLOW- 11 KKl.KT) BOOT. "I haven't tlie countensign ; aiul, if I had, the dernamj for it at this time and place is something very strange and unusnal/' rejoined the citizen. " An' by the howly Moses, ye don't pass this way at all till ye say Bnnker 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 rOE 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 groniid. It never deceives me. It is 'fire and fall hark\flaty 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 affiiir, apparently designed to coil round the enemy as it is introduced, thus taking him prisoner. THE HOLLOW-HEELED EOOT. In the earlier days of the rebellion there lived in South- eastern Missouri one Ogilvie Byron Young. lie 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 Falstaff and the honor of lago. A scion of Virginia's aristocracy, he deemed himself a statesman from birth and an orator by nature. Showy in manner THE WIDE AWAKE IRISH SENTINEL. THE HOLLOW-IIKELED BOOT. 95 and Fiiperficial in attaiiiniLnUs, he could act the accom- plished gentleman or the bullying braggart as best suited the occasion. Vain, reckless, and boastful, he 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 him least. Wildly imaginative, but immensely unpractical, he plunged madly into the 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 character. 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 fall 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 CouTention. Here he was the only member that took strong ground in favor of secession j)er se, gaining thereby not a little notoriety. The State did not secede ; but Ogilvie Byron Young did, and for some months he was not so much as heard from. In the fall of 1861 he was arrested at the Spencer House, Cincinnati, as a spy. In due time an indictment and trial followed ; but, though there was abundant evi- dence of guilt, he escaped conviction by means of some technical informality in the proceedings. He was ordered to leave the city, however, and did so. In the following spring he was found in Covington, Kentucky, under an^ assumed name, aiding and abetting the rebels by furnish- ing information, and was again arrested. He had been cautioned by some one, it would seem ; for there was found nothing upon him in the way of papers or letters to warrant his detention, and he was again released to ugain disappear from sight for some months. In November, 1862, he is again met with, in Nashville, d6 THE nOLLOW-HEELET) BOOT*. where he had been for some weeks as a paroled prisoner, but acting all the while in his old capai;itv 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 month 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 of 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 Kirby 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 trouble and expense of the trip bv the fall of Nashville. ■ Our luka hostage then informed him that Mrs. Major Ranney — wife of Major Ranne}^, of the 6th Texas Regi- ment — was in the city, under his charge, and just returned from Europe, Avhither 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 He had mfede the trip through the lines ten or twelve times, and could do it again. He was now engaged in drawing a map of the fortifications around Nashville and procuring information as to the numbers of the troops, &c,, which should be forthcoming in due season. These secret despatches of ]\irs, Ranney's together with this map and other papers, could be hidden in the heel of a boot, which would be made for tliera by a bootmaker of the city in the emj^loy of the Confederate Government. His name was C. J. Zeutzschell, and his shop was on Union Street. This plan was agreed to, and Young was to assist in the execution of it; in return for which, he was to be placed in a high position at Richmond. Young's reputa- tion, however, was not of the best, and the bootmaker would do nothing for him, when called upon, without first making inquiries among his friends and consulting with our hostage, for whom the boots were wanted. Accordingly, Zeutzschell came to his room one evening and said that Young had been to his house and wished him to make a pair of boots and to secrete important documents in them so as to defy detection. He had no confidence in Young's honor, and did not wish to do it 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 money, &;c. He (Zeutzschell) had been inquiring of the friends of the South — undoubted secessionists — concerning him (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 li. 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 tliem in his head, to prove which he immediately sat down and drafted one. He 7 98 PRESENCE OF MIND. remarked that he had recently sent several such to General Morgan. He had made the boots for all the spies in the same way, and not 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 many 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 chagrin 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. eonsin Regiment, 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. PRKSENCE OF MIND. 99 Seeing I was caught, I tliouglit it best to surrender at .)i.ce. So I said — "Gentlemen, you have me." I was asked various questions as to who 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 tlie 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 woods, 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 thicket 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. Another one — a musket ball — went through my canteen. Immediately upon this volley, the two cavalry sepa- 100 AN INGENIOUS DODQE. rated, one to my right, and the other to my left, to cui off my retreat — the remaining two f A STKANGE DUEL. A distinguished duel occurred on the 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 beliind 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 brain, 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 STEANGE SIGHT IS BATTLE. At the battle of Stone River, Tennessee, while the men were lying behind a crest waiting, a brace of frantic wild turkej^s, 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 she 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 do)!vn 140 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. in line on the left, nestling 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 IN 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 whole truth. " Must the boy die ?" " There is a shadow of a chance. I will come again after midnight." 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 twilight 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 thrilled 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 effulgence 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 system 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 strano;e interest in this vouno; man 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. lie 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 me go ; for you are all married ; and if I fall, no matter." He went. He had followed the standard of the Repub- lic into every battle-field where the struggle 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 Run 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 knows 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 citv 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 v/as 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 Another loadstone held his heart at home; it was the magnet of Love. His wild and wayward history — 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 scul])tured 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 clear relief against their white ground — slowly and calmly began to move. 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 inio what seemed to me the calmest repose of death. 144 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. But tlien, I thought, 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 Republic, and then go back after this episode of suffering to inaugurate the life of a citizen farmer on the bleak hills of New York : — 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 calmly, and then a glow which I shall never forget suffused his cheek, and^ lifting hia 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. H6 claimed, in a natural voice, " How floats the old flag now, boys?" The transition from death to life seemed like enchant- ment, I could scarcely believe my senses. And yet 1 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 Avould 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 stayed with me. I have been dreaming about you while I've been asleep ; and I must have been asleep a great while. How long?" I told him enough to let him understand how ill he had been, how long, and how weak he still was. He 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 when 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 3^ou got any letters for me ?" *'■ Yes, but they are at my office. You shall have them io-raorrow. They are all well at home." " And Bella ?" " Yes." " Oh, God be praised !" After a few moments of repose, he again opened bis eyes wide. 10 146 HEROISM IN THE HOSPITAL. " I have been gone so long from the army ! It seemed as though I never could 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 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. "I was afraid of that. But I think we can manage it. If he wakes again witbin 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 your country in solemn and com- plete dedication. I too was prepared for the sacrifice. I expected it, although I knew how crushingly the blow would 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 busbmul, God has decreed that 1 shall die a widow never married." He did return to the Mohawk Valley. He married Bella. He returned to the war ; and on the eve of ihe great day of Antietam he heard that his sou 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., Gen. Schofield sent Lieutenniit Bloodfelt attended by an orderly, with orders to Colonel Hall, Fourth Missouri Cavalry, to move to the left and attack iu 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 PAKSONS, THE MARYLAND BOY. Joe enlisted in the First Maryland regiment, and was plainly a "rougli" originally. As we passed along the hall we first saw him crouched near an open window, lustily singing, "I'm a bold soldier boy," and observing the broad bandage over his eyes, I said — 148 JOE PARSONS, THE MARYLAND BOY. "What's your name, my good fellow?" "Joe, sir," he answered, "Joe Parsons." "And what is the 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 Minid 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 alive, 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 1 heard a feller groanin' beyond ne. " ' Hello !' says I. " ' Hello, 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?' " ' 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 I ken.' " Then I says : ' Well, ole butternut, I can't see nothin'. My eyes is knocked out; but I ken walk. Come over yere. Let's git out o' this. You p'int the way, an' I'iJ tote yer off the field on ray back.' "'Bally for you,' says he. A LOYAL PIGEON. 1 49 " 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 shoulderg. " I did the wallcin' 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 av/ay, 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 boss. " But — ' I'm a bold soldier boy,' " he continued, cheerily renewing: his sono^- and we left him in his singular mer- riment. Poor, sightless, unlucky, but stout-hearted Joe Parsons. A LOYAL PIGEON. 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. xSO GATHERING IN THE CONTRABANDS. Many of the 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, and 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. GATHEEING IN THE OONTEABANDS. 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 witli most a^vful accounts of the ways of the savage Yankees, and many of the poor creatures were equally eager with their masters to fly from us. GATHERINO 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 stieet-corner. At length the time for action was at hand. A fine Sabbath came, 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 Negley. Out went the lights, as if by magic, and there was 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 " lx)ld soger boys " as he came out. The scene was amusing indeed. And the next morning it was still 152 JOHN morgan's female spy. more comical — the same crowd being at work at the 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. JOHN MOEGAN'S TEMALE SPY. On the 16th of December, 1862, while the rebel armj 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-fourths 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 pasa 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 country — al>out four miles — to my father's, and there they will JOHN morgan's female SPY. 153 run fou through the lines anyhow." This aroused his sus- piciuns, and determined him to report her case at the Police OfBoe, 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- mediacelj sent to head- quarters. Here she gave her name as Mrs. Chira Judd, the widow of an Episcopal clergyman who had died the 3'ear 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 allowed 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 Bl3Hhe 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 confidence 154 JOHN morgan's female spy. she had inspired, they served to weaken it materially, find to excite doubts as to the truth of her statements and the honesty of her intentions, Eeturning 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 liim, 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 Nashville. 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 about 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 the 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 himself and Mrs. Judd. Colonel Trues- dail gave him the desired pass, and insisted upon his ac- companying her to Louisville, at the same time 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 that 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, B^nhe 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 SPl a great accommodation, as well as pleasure, to tim, lie 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 unreservedly 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 God'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 Blj'the 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 SPI. 167 large stock of goods, with which he designed returning immediately to Murl'reesborough. 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 lier affections. She devoted herself to him as only women do to those whom tliey 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 easily 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 delighted and more affectionate than ever. Arrangements 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 Mitcheilsville, 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 an3^thing 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 ihiuk 1 58 JOHN morgan's female spy. she was already suspected — seeking by this means lo 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 complicit}^ 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 througli to Murfreesborough ; and if you have any word to send, 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 Avas 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 might 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 paK JOHN MORGAN'S FEMALE SPY. 159 and was strangely excited ; though she seemed more af- fected by Biythe's situation and danger than her own. Blythe, 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 Biythe'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 known, 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 OF 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, during the war. INCIDENTS OF 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 enouo;h. 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- vinciV)le Van Dorn cavalrj^, 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 McFADDEN. 161 the circumstances, they 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 under 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, usually wore the regular " secesh" uniforms. EDDY McPADDEN. 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 foi 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 cheeky 11 iG2 A BRAVE BOY AND A GALLANT SAILOR. his restless manner, and Lis grasping and catching his bi'eath 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 sufi'er- ino;. 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. BEAVE BOY AND A GALLANT SAILOR. One of the powder boys on the Bienville, 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 Steeclman, in thanking his men for their noble conduct, especially commended the bravery of young Steele. During a ])art 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 deck at each discharge. It is really wonderful that her damage is so very immaterial. Beyond a hole 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 ofl" 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 well 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 CHAEACTERISTIC INCIDENT. OHAKAGTEEISTIO INCIDENT. An incident of adventure characteristic of the Anderson Zouaves, and of rigorous barbarism characteristic of the blood-earnest warfare of these rebels. One day, Hcni-j 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 Yirginia. 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 just 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 returned 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 Swamp, 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 ruffians burned the Virginian's house over his head, for the crime of talking with Northern soldiers who entered his yard. SALLTE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 165 SALLIE EICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL The falls of the New Eiver are very fragrant; the water thunders down towards the Gaulej 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 sufiicient transportation to subsist any considerable number of troops, and the Federal forcee sought to maintain control of the ferries, by frequently 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, a\id cut off the retreat of a body of guerrillas, who. had made a raid on the north side 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 Richmond 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. " Hellow, 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 Richmond's the very man you are huntin' for, eh ?" "Yes; are you Richmond?" " I reck'n I am." " They tell me you are a true Union man, Mr. Rich- mond ?" " Well, I reck'n thar ain't ary better one in these moun- tains than old Sam Richmond, unless it be my boy Bill, ' Devil Bill ;' you've hear'n of him up thar at Raleigh C. H., I reck'n?" " Oh yes," said the captain. " Lead on, Mr. Richmond.'* 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 "Richmond 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 his ofif hand, rude way, said, " AYell, Sallie, here's Capt. Warner ■^ SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. ICtl 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 New River." "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 lo, either. A soldier gave her the box, and my Bill gave her the gun. He took it from a secesher, You'v^e hear'n of ' Devil Bill' up to Raleigh Court House, eh?" "Yes, I've heard of him," Sallie shortly after entered the house with the stranger ehe had rowed across the river. He was dressed in the 168 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. home-made butternut style, with fringed trimmings on his hunting-shirt, and accoutred like Richmond. 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. Richmond ; 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 Richmond hastened out ; six armed men stood 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 Richmond ; " 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 the men, " and more of our boya down thar comin'." They all went into the house and gathered around the fire. The new comers were 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. IQ^ quent, until full twenty of Eiclimond'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 Van Winkle, take you a century ahead. After midnight the captain and Richmond again visited the pickets. Everything was quiet, and they returned to Bichmond's house. The old man loaded his pipe, and the two sat down by the fire. " You say your son Bill is up at Ealeigh 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 siijce 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 ray barn. Wei], 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 niglit they came to the house here, I war on the island, and Sallie an' the old woman war alone. They tried to frighten Sallie, to mdke her tell whar I war, but she got mad, and war for pitchin' in to fight '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 out, 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 Virginians, " ' 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 -icomin', and we jest called in all these here boys, and SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. 171 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 them 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 us 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 us, 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 ?" " Very good," answered the captain; "were any of vou hit?" "Some of the boys got little scratches, but none were killed. Sallie was 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 nigh 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 throug^h right thar," said the old man, pointing to the shivered window-sash, " and went out througli 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 'cayj' down to nothin'. So the folks round here got to callin' him 'Devil Bill'. I reckon you've hearu 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 tliar, and he war a blowin' '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. It3 " ' 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 him ! seize him ! !' Well, some feller came in, then, who knowed Bill, and he told them who he war, and thej were awfully pleased, I reckon, over the capture of Devil Bill. You've hearn of him up thar to Kaleigh C. II., I reckon, captain ?" " Yes ; go on." " Well, they kept Bill thar until next day, when they started for Newburn, 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 thi'ee 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 174 SALLIE RICHMOND AND DEVIL BILL. came up and stopped tliar, looking at the dead Irishman. 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 hurrj, I reckon. Well, Bill seen that nothing more could be done, so he riz the mountain, and come right on to Raleigh C. II. You've seen him thar, I reckon, captain ?' " Did he kill the last man ?" "No, he war only wounded, and his comrades took him away shortly after. But I 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 command. Sallie was up betimes, and soon had the breakfast ready. About nine the command was taken across the river in boats, Sallie assistino- 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. " AVhy, Miss Richmond, 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. 175 number, and it was tlaougTit 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 pai't 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. Sonie 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 Raleigh C. H., where they ar- rived the evening of the fourth day, very tired, but exceedingly well pleased with their scout to Richmond 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 Raleigh 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. KENTUOE AGAINST KENTUCK. In the rebel charge upon McCook's right in the battle of Stone River, 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 mutuaJly ceased firing, and began abusing, and cursing, and swear- 176 THE scout's revenge. ing at eacli other, calling eacli other the 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 many 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 EEVENGE. Night 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 revenge. 171 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 hini the rank of colonel. No 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, ungainly as it was, gave promise of great strength, and the 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 with him at too close quarters. On every line of his counte 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 noAv, so let us to business," said the 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 Virginny," and a mocking smile lit up the sallow face, " I mixed in W'th the boys." " You are venturesome. Hardy," said the other. " If THE scout's revenge 170 they catch you they will show no mercy. Already your name is known the country round, and a reward offere^ 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." " Do 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 scout 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; 1 80 THE scout's revenge. yet the ignorance did not check tlie ^^ndisguised pleasure gf the men, as they promptly obeyed the " fall 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 than to rae." " I liev told you the 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 1" 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" ia 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- 1 83 THE scout's revenge. " Has anything been heard from D'Arblay, to-daj ?" 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 t^ll 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 officers 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 h^ 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. P-ut, 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. Not a sound escaped his practised ear, nor 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 revenge. the rebel sentry thought of his southern home, heedless 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 liirn ; 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 was 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 stiiking 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 dut}^ 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 vengean(;e against him, and will execute it at all risks. THE SCOUT'S REVENGE. 1 85 The scout carefully drew the body of the poor wretch out of tlie path, and seizing his musket, while he put his trusty rifle in a safe place, 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 daAvn 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 ] 36 THE scout's revenge. main good ; but I s'pose you'll make it surer by flanking the devils," hinting 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 1 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 \vell,_I could pilot a couple of hundred so as to take 'em behind." " You shall have them. Hardy," said the colonel, send- in «• an aid at once with orders for detailing the necessary O 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, stretchmg out his hand, at the same time, to the officer, " I mought as well say, ' goodby.' My work's most done, and ef I don't come out of this skrimmage, tell the guieral 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 com in' on," and lie wrung his hand with a will. Hardy led his two hundred men quickly away along tlie 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'8 revenge. 187 fo«med and fretted in its course as though no stop could be put to its ravages. In this thej 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 tlie 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. About half the distance towards the camp had been 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 the rebel soldiery were wont to drill, they broke over 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, Avhile 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 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 camji, heedless of the knot of soldiers who slunk away at his coming, or vainly attempted to stop 188 THE scout's revenge. his progress, till be reached the encampment of the Arkan- sas men, A fierce struggle was in progress, and Burton, at the head of the backwoodsmen, was 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 ftad been a desperate one ; but he trembled when he saw Hard J facing him. He had seen him once before, when the white head and stern face was lit up by the burning dwelling. Even Burton, the gambler, the duellist, the bully, could not shut his soul up from dreams, and the face of the avenger had grown familiar even 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 mutterins: a curse, fell a corpse at the feet of the scout. When the battle was over, Hardy was found leaning against the ruined chinmey, the pallor of death spread over his face, while the body of the rebel chief lay a few feet fi'om 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 branches 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 LlEUTK^fANT ATE THE PIE. 189 A grim Rmile 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 pressure 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 slaiU; 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 very brief There had been a night recomioissance, and a rebel camp broken up, with great loss to the enemy, Hardy's name was not mentioned ; but few who were in the expedition will forget the tall form or underestimate the services of the scout. "WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. Gen, Grant, the hero and veteran, who was citizen, captain, 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 eccentric 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 Jeff. Thompson, in northern Arkansas, The supposed ren- dezvous of the rebels was about one hundred and ten miles, and the greater portion of the route lay through a howling wilderness. The imaginary suffering that our 190 WHY THE LIEUTENANT ATE THE PIE. soldiers endured during the first two days of their march was 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, Lieutenant 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 epell, came in sight of, and was rather favorably impressed with, the appearance of this same house. Riding up to the fence in front of the door, he desired to know if they would cook him a meal. " No I" said a female, in a gruff voice ; " General Grant and his staff have just been here and eaten everything m 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 uproar, 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 fornied, 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 ix 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 the forts on the Mississippi Kiver. 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 Varuna'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 hurry ?" "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 Varuna 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. OH THE CUMBERLAND. 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 Al'.OUT STONE RIVER. 193 A CHAT ABOUT STONE KIVEE. There was rare comedy commingled with the tragedy at Stone Eiver. The humdrism 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 too 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 I'iverence," replied Pat, respectfully saluting, " I went into it with a good v/ill. 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 m.angled fellows 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 wounded arm in his left hand. "By G — d, doctor," said he, with much less piety 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 — " missiii' me." An Irish soldier being hit, turned to his officer, patheti- 13 194 A CHAT ABOUT STONE RIVER. cally exclaiming, " Lieutenant, sliure an' I'm hit !" "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 staffj 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 do, 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. Lieut. Willie Porter, of the general's staff, a promising youth of eighteen or nineteen summers, amused us by his sang froid. 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 severely, WHAT IT COST TO BE LOYAL. 195 and tearing open the haversack. The kmcheon tumbled to the ground. " There," said Porter, with a droll grim- ace, unmindful of his own narrow escape, " all the dinner is gone." THE WEONG LEG. 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 i-ebel 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 alone 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 that 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 hen^ion. 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 all hid in the woods, and slept. The poor woman was one day gathering corn in the garden, and William was Bitting 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. 197 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 cabin 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 cry, 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 upoa 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 twelve 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 uncoffined, 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 remainino: sons, a drunken soldier of the Fifth Kansas Regiment shot her daughter Mary, as she was standing in the door of her house. A DESPERATE HAND-TO-HAND CONTEST. Two Minnesota boys once took it into their heads to forage a httle 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 nSTS AGAINST MUSKETS. During the retreat from Bull Eun a large bony back woodsman from Michigan remained behind to assist a wounded comrade, and was surrounded by four Seces- sionists. . Throwino; 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 IN ACTION. fields, whicli 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 wliich we stood, when the rebel batteries were moved by hand over the brow of the hill in front, and opened upon us with 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. Now the battery which our regiment was supporting began to show its biilliant qualities. I think that it was L battery, J^'irst New 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 unpleasantest 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 P 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 we 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 the 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 concluded 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 clea^, 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 had 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 cahiily 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 off. 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 ever}^ 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 cheerfully and confidently all the 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 anxiousl}^. " 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 a wood was spread out the ghastly apparatus of military 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 1" ••' 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 the 204 DRAWING RATIONS. ghastly work of amputation performed. He never reco- vered from the sliock. 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 in an ambulance, beside B , who had been hit al- most at the same moment ; and the whole establishment moved back to a house in the rear. Scarcely 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. DEAWING 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 coWr- quy ensued : — hadn't heard of the war. 206 " Have fine potatoes here, I see." "Splendid!" was the reply. " Where do 3^ou get them?" " Draw theni." " Does government furnish potatoes in your rations ?" " Nary potato." " I thought you said you drew them." " Did ! we just do that thing !" "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. Draiv 'em by the tops, mostly / Some- times by a hoe, if one is left in the field." " Hum ! Yes ! I understand ! Well, see here, if you won't draw an}^ more of mine, I will bring you a basket every morning, and draw them mj^self." "Bully for you, old fellow!" 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 HE A ED OP THE ¥AE. After Western Virginia had been 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- 20G AN IMPROMPTU DUEL. tare. " Whar did you come from, and what be a sojer (loin' 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 A^irginian — 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- tiou?" " 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 thunder in 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 dav, 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. 201 South Carolina. " Pretty well, thank you. 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 otlier 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 f 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 unburt, 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 tiuo 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 — (/ good shQts,''^ and thus eader? this funny impromptu duel. 208 HOW IKE BAKER WAS WHIPPED. HOW IKE BAEEEE WAS WHIPPED. Upon a certain day, somewhere 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 weather 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 mj^self 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 taking my rifle and canteen, stepped boldly out into the open ground, and soon reached the fence. I crept cautiousl}^ along it until 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 corner 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 ^^e ?" "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, toolc 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 follei-." 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. Nufaber tens, ain't they?" I told him I believed they were that number. U 210 HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. "1 knew it," said he, nodding his head. "I was sure on it. Number ten is just mj fit. 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 'era. 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 yon 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. Eebel," said I, for I began 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. It 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 miglit}^ 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 by man or mortal, Yankee," continued he, drawing off' his coat and rolling up his sleeves, " 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 ; jou may be a pretty good njan 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. Now 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 I 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 gome in a bar fight, I swar you are ! 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 Bome of the best men in the country with that hold, and 212 HOW IKE BARKER WAS WHIPPED. never have been thrown on ray back yet. 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 us 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 me 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 liors 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 !" " 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 — 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 IKE BARKER "WHOPPED. 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 TAVEEN. 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 Ridge, 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 ofiice 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 writer 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 officer 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 loth, a scouting party was sent out under the command of Captain W — . of company H, to scour the country adjacent to White River, 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 TAVERN. 215 of roads, and the surrounding 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 with a detachment of two hundred men, with orders to penetrate as far as Hunts ville 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 army 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 Kiver with difficulty, 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 River 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 Eumor, 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 to " The Arabian Nights" or "Sinbad the Sailor." There were at this time in confinement at Elk Horn, certain citizens of Arkansas, against whom 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 intelligent. Her conduct as-citrng 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 " do 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. "Vestal was domiciled. She was frequently observed LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. 2l7 looking searching] J down the Fayetteville road, and often inquired for newspapers, always wishing the latest. Like a true student 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 way homeward with the view of raising a regiment, was granted the privilege of taking such a course as he might 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 marched to 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 libert)^ 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 upon 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 Vestal, 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. Vestal'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 Eiver. 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 Van Buren, but thence to Little Eock. 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 he 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, a« 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 in the line — and had never been paid. Added to this, 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- cent shuttlecok between distant battledoors. But the men knew the country where they were ope- rating. They were on their native hills, again, and were active and zealous in their efforts to support that govern- ment, 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 Marrnaduke's pickets at Cane Hill, and again dashing into Huntsville, or fighting the " bushwhackers" of Carroll County after their own method. At the same time men were needed to keep open telegraphic communication with the East, and occasionally to forward messages of the first import- ance to General Blunt. Within the lines of the post, matters were more quiet. 220 LIFE AT ELK HORN TAVERN. The "tavern" ?oon became a central point for the neigh borhood, many of the citizens being attracted to it by their own necessities, and some, no doubt, froni motives that would not bear the test of scrutiny. Women on liorseback, 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, anyllting 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 jieaches myself J'' We took the pies, and when that bushel of salt disappeared, made light drafts on the com- missary. Pi'isoners were frequently brought in, poor, ignorant, deluded men, the rough work of the rebellion. Exami- nations were protracted or otherwise, according to cir- cumstances, and, aside from their revelation 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 "J." "No, 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 you 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 straw hat, and clothed otherwise in the ubiquitous " but- ternut." 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 been 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- minent 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 turned 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. " WeU, I run down bar to git out of the way of the ar- my, and they picked me up," replied the 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, Witnpy !" 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 on jive aces^ 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. ^ § 1 ? § I ^ I I ^ ^'i ^-^ f^ \ ^ ^ \ ^4 N \ ^ ^ ^ ^ § ^ I ^ ~ts ^^ ^ J^ N ^ ^ ^ 1 ^ ■i ^ ^ ^ / ,A/Jl.;..iri .Hi ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON, 223 ESCAPE FKOM LIBBY PEISON. Towards the close of the year 1863, the Union officers confined in the Libby Prison at Richmond, 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 thev were chano;ed, and for other refuse matter. Above this hospital was a room for officers, 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 let 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, Vv^hich had been furnished the officers in one of the rooms, was made to serve the purpose of a cart. A string was attached to it and it was run into the tunnel, and as soon as filled, was drawn out and the dirt deposited under the straw, but after hard work and digging with finger nails, knives, and chisels a number of feet, the working 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 reached the sewer. 224 ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. But here an unexpected obstacle met their 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 undaunted, 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 Cx./ald, paced off the distance, and concluded that the street Wrts 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 were informed that there was a way now 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 were 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 gquad 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 have 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. Colonel "W. P Kendrick, of "West Tennessee ; Captain D. J. Jones, of the First Kentucky 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 sfreets, 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 or 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. E^endrick 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 for his squad, and ESCAPE FROM LIBBY PRISON. 227 could not get tlirough with his haversack upon 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 Kendrick sprained his ankle and fell. Fortunate, too, was that fall for him and his party, 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 diificulty. 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 friendly 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 tho 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 l-lth, 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 woman, and that she had a son in the rebel army. The party, however, were exceedingly hungry^ and they determined to secure some food. This they did by boldly approaching the bouse, and informing the mistress that they were fugitives 1 i ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE 228 from Norfolk, who had 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- diers, who occasionally scouted in that vicinity. This information was exceedingly valuable to the refugees, 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 tracks of a large body of cavalry. A piece of paper found by Uaptain 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 Regiment, 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 v/ho sympathized with them, and helpi^d them on their way. ADVENTUEES OP AN AEKANSAS EEFUGEE. When General (then Colonel) Sigel fell back from Car- thage, Mo., to Mt. Vernon, in the summer of 1861, one De Witt C. Hopkins, a refugee from 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 country — 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 River, down that to Grand River, 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, sufficed to warn him of his danger, and he was com- polled 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 house, 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 River, was pointed out. There Hopkins secreted himself for several days, 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 suddenly 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- 212 ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. sessed of sufficient iuformation to warrant the hazards of a trip to Union headquarters, returning home he ten- dered his services to General Eains. They were accepted, and he was established at headquarters, a voluntary aide- de-camp without rank or braid. On the 9tli 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 partially, 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 Sigel, commanding the advance, and was placed at once in the corps of secret service men. In January 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 ; Avere making extensive preparations for the battle fought afterwards nt Pea Ridge, and to enter their lines, much more to pass through them to the river in question, was an undertakinu; as difficult as hazardous. Providing 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- ward. It required now all his address to avoid 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- miny, 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 Elvers, 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 Eidge, 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. northern bank of the Arkansas, a mile from the fort. During the 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 Ridge), 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. Now, 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 Rock !" 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 whicii his horse was tied, and dashed for the fortress gate leading into 1 i ADVENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. 235 Garrison Avenue — the avenue to the river. For a few moments the oflEicers 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. By 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. Remaining 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 foUovv^ing, Hoyjkins appeared within the lines with two artillery horses for sale. Readily 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 «ide. " 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 through the darkness, was soon out of harm's way. A 1 36 ADv'ENTURES OF AN ARKANSAS REFUGEE. month later he participated in the battle on Pea Eidge, 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. Verily the Philistines were now upon him, though not probably aware of his presence. His feminine friend, alarmed, nevertheless, for his safety, threw up the quiUs 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 approaching ])arty were indeed Livingston's men, and a few minutes later they entered the house. The widow accounted for the light at so unusual an hour by sajdng that she was unwell, and had risen to prepare a warm cup of tea. The e.pa rently on his track. Like a general in the field, Wilhite im- mediately made " his dispositions," each man taking a tree, and re-examining his weapons. Their horses were tied m a 254 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIEK. thicket a short distance of!" 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. Rallying 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 ail his might, he informed whom it might concern, that if they wanted him they must catch him, as it would 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, again, should they assu.v.e the PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 255 offensive, the disagreeable ■uncertainty of the bushes was too fresh in memory to be rashly courted, Wilhite lin- gered long enough to see his enemies disappear, when be dashed again into the woods. A short time after this occurrence, his father was arrested while movinsr alono- the highway near the west fork of the White River. 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 fathers arrest. Hurriedly collecting four of his men, he started down the Yan Buren Road, 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 of Wilhite was procured from the rebel military author- ities. It proving somewhat difficult to proceed under this warrant, according to its exigency, General Hindman oSered a reward of seven thousand dollars, and three honorable discharges from the Confederate service to any man who would bring in AVilhite, living or dead. No- tices to this efltect were numerously posted along Cove, Fall, and Lee's Creeks, and the west fork of White River. Scouting about one day in September, with a number of his men, and having occasion to cross Lee's Creek near the base of the southern slope of the Boston Mountains, Wilhite discovered one of these notices tacked to a tree. Claiming the right to " cross notice," he appropriated the margin to his own use by inscribing thereon, a notification to this effect : That his men and himself claimed forty square miles of the Boston Mountains, and that if Hind- man and his provost guards trespassed upon their do- minions, tliey would seek to drive them into the valley below, and there assume the offensive. He now t:ikes 256 PUCK ON THE frontier. from liis pocket the Jack of diamonds, nails it to the tree, writing above the head of tins welMcnown gentleman the significant word " Union," informed " Squire" Ilindman, 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 olT. 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 away 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 was 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 wer9 PLUCK ON THE FRONTIER. 25t himdreda of rebels on all sides of him, to tlie Boston Mountains be did not bid adieu, until of bis own volition be reported with a small squad of men to General Her- ron, at Cross Hollows, twentj-eigbt miles soutb of tlie Missouri line. As early as August it bad been found impracticable to take a number of recruits northward in a body, and Wilbite bad accordingly determined to remain in the mountains, annoying the enemy and taking ven- geance upon tliose who bad so cruelly robbed and mal- treated Union men, until bis passage could be safely and easily made. From Cross Hollows, "Wilbite proceeded to Elkborn Tavern, where be rejoined his company, and was at once appointed its first lieutenant, a position that had been left vacant for months in the hope that be would yet arrive to fill it. From that time onward Wilbite was constantly engaged in active service, always 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 for from bis haunts of the summer pre- vious, be 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 worthy 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. Wilbite 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 17 268 A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE POTOMAC. moving about seventy-five j^arcls 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 !" 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 ADVENTUEE 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 tures, my friend H informed me that, through the disclosures of a deserter who had just arrived from the rebel lines, he had learned that a quantity of ammunition, consistino^ of several thousand ball cartriclo;es 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, with the assistance of myself to capture 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 suc]i a manner as circumstances would permit. In answer to m}'' 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 nods 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, tlie 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, and at intervals, philoso- phically lecturing a ragged son of Africa upon the pro- 260 A NIGIIT ADVEXTURE ON THE rOTOMAO. prietj of his meeting us at this same spot on the follow- ing night, in order to receive his hor,