Incidents of the War: Humorous, Pathetic, and Descriptive

by Alfred Burnett · English · Gutenberg #23733 · 475,920 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Incidents of the War: Humorous, Pathetic, and Descriptive

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: Incidents of the War: Humorous, Pathetic, and Descriptive

Author: Alfred Burnett

Release date: December 4, 2007 [eBook #23733]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23733

Credits: Produced by David Edwards, Christine P. Travers and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This book was produced from scanned images of public
domain material from the Google Print project.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INCIDENTS OF THE WAR: HUMOROUS, PATHETIC, AND DESCRIPTIVE ***

Produced by David Edwards, Christine P. Travers and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This book was produced from scanned images of public
domain material from the Google Print project.)

[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all
other inconsistencies are as in the original. Author's spelling has
been maintained.

Page 204: A word was missing after "The Major was right, for a little"
"while" has been added.

Bold words are marked with =.]

[Illustration: Alf BURNETT. From A Photograph By Winder.]

INCIDENTS OF THE WAR:

Humorous, Pathetic,

and

Descriptive.

ALF BURNETT,

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

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

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

Stereotyped at the
Franklin Type Foundry,
CINCINNATI.

SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR.

By Enos B. Reed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CONTENTS.

PAGE
CHAPTER I 13

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

CHAPTER II 23

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

CHAPTER III 37

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

CHAPTER IV 47

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

CHAPTER V 57

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

CHAPTER VI 64

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

CHAPTER VII 70

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

CHAPTER VIII 80

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

CHAPTER IX 87

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

CHAPTER X 99

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

CHAPTER XI 107

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

CHAPTER XII 124

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

CHAPTER XIII 135

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

CHAPTER XIV 143

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

CHAPTER XV 156

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

CHAPTER XVI 167

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

CHAPTER XVII 172

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

CHAPTER XVIII 181

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

CHAPTER XIX 188

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

CHAPTER XX 194

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

CHAPTER XXI 201

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

CHAPTER XXII 207

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

CHAPTER XXIII 216

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

CHAPTER XXIV 222

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

CHAPTER XXV 232

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

CHAPTER XXVI 240

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

CHAPTER XXVII 248

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

CHAPTER XXVIII 256

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

CHAPTER XXIX 263

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

CHAPTER XXX 268

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

CHAPTER XXXI 279

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

CHAPTER XXXII 289

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

Debate Between Slabsides and Garrotte. 303

Sermon From "Harp of a Thousand Strings." 308

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PORTRAIT OF ALF BURNETT.

SKEERED! THAT AINT NO NAME FOR IT.

RUNAWAY SCRAPE IN VIRGINIA.

SPORTS IN CAMP.

FAT VOLUNTEER.

OLD STONNICKER DRUMMED OUT OF CAMP.

DEBATE BETWEEN SLABSIDES AND GARROTTE.

SERMON--"HARP OF A THOUSAND STRINGS."

INCIDENTS OF THE WAR.

CHAPTER I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SKEERED! THAT AINT NO NAME FOR IT.

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

"Darkness there, and nothing more."

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

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

"How far is it, madam?"

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

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

"I did."

"Were you there during the fight?"

"Guess I was."

"Where was your husband?"

"He wor dead."

"Was he killed in the battle?"

"No; he died with the measles."

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

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

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

"Guess I was."

"What did you do when they commenced firing?"

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

"Did they fight long upon your ground?"

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

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

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

CAMP FUN IN A BURLESQUE LETTER TO A FRIEND.

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

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

"Scabbards!" said I, looking round.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's that?" said I.

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it, Billy?" said I.

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

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

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

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

"Shoddy stockings," said a third.

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER II.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"_Sellin' pies, Gin'ral._"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"General Nelson," was the reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"O, just over here a little bit."

"What regiment do you belong to?"

"Sixth Ohio."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

General Nelson Shot by General Davis.

Louisville, _September 29_.

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

Alf.

Later.--General Nelson Dead.

Louisville, _September 29_, 10 A.M.

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

Alf.

THIRD DISPATCH.

Particulars of the Affair.

Louisville, _September 29_, 11 A.M.

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

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

Alf.

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

Louisville, _September 29, 1862_.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE FUNERAL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours, Alf.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER III.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GENERAL ROUSSEAU'S REPORT OF THE BATTLE.

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

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

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

"I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

"Lovell H. ROUSSEAU."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Major-General McCook now commands the Twentieth Army Corps.

CHAPTER IV.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now who told you that?" they inquired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"O! I does what Bob does!"

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

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

CHAPTER V.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Roll on, silver moon,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE DYING SOLDIER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A JOKE ON AN "EGYPTIAN" REGIMENT.

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

CHAPTER VI.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mother tried to catch the eye of the child.

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

"Yes, I do," reiterated the child.

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

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

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

PICKET TALK.

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

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

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

"Well, you haven't any sugar?"

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

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

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

CHAPTER VII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WOULDN'T GO ROUND.

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

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

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

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

MAJOR BOYNTON AND THE CHICKEN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours, dismally, till I see my love,

Alf.

REMINISCENCE OF CAMP LIFE IN VIRGINIA, IN 1861.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours,
Alf.

CHAPTER VIII.

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

FUN IN THE 123d OHIO.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A THRILLING INCIDENT OF THE WAR.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From the same paper I cut the following:

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

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

CHAPTER IX.

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

OUR HOSPITALS.

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

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

NO HOPE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A SHORT AND SIMPLE STORY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A SOLDIER'S PRIDE.

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

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

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

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

"I'm afraid they do, John."

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

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

THE LAST LETTER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

SOLDIERLY SYMPATHY.

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

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

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

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

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

"I will! I will!"

"Good-by, Ned."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE ENSIGN-BEARER.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER X.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BALL IN CAMP.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANECDOTE OF THE 63d OHIO AND COLONEL SPRAGUE.

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

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

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

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM OF HOME.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

THE WIFE'S REPLY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A. L. Y.

CHAPTER XI.

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

THE ATROCITIES OF SLAVERY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William Foster.

Tuskegee, Ala., _June 14, 1863_.

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

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

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

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

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

"Certainly," was the answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XII.

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

Triune, Tenn., _April 29, 1863_.

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir," was the response.

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

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

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

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

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

"A sound of revelry by night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

WOMEN IN BREECHES.

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

"Once more unto the _breech_, dear friends,"

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

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

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

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

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

ANOTHER INCIDENT OF THE WAR.

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

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

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

NEGRO SERMON DELIVERED AT TRIUNE, TENN.

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

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

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

"'WHAR DO YOU LIB?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XIII.

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

LETTER FROM CHEAT MOUNTAIN.

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

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

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/23733