About five miles from Fayetteville, is a very noted highland called

Well's Hill, and on the top of it there is a fork in the road, the left

going directly south to Huntsville, and the right to Athens and Decatur.

On reaching this road I was in the act of turning into it, when I looked

across on still another road, called the Meredian road, and discovered a

train of wagons slowly coming up the hill. I watched it, till I saw

there was no guard near, and then riding around till I met the first

wagon, I caused it to be drawn close along against the fence, and there

stopped; then the next two to be drawn close along side, thus making an

effectual barricade against any force which was approaching from that

direction. Next I seized the wagon master, who was some distance in the

rear of the train, and shoved him and the drivers up into the fence

corner, making one of them turn the mules loose from the wagons. The

loads were covered with corn blades, and other forage, so one could not

see them, but the drivers told me that the wagons were loaded with

bacon.

After arranging things to my satisfaction, I produced a bunch of

matches, and fired the fodder, on the top of each of the wagons, which

were of the old fashioned curved bodies, Connestoga pattern, each of

which had on it four thousand pounds of bacon.

The guns of the party all happened to be in the wagons, and none of them

had any side arms, except the wagon master, who had something under his

coat, that looked like a pistol; and as he wore a belt, it is very

probable he had one; and some of the citizens, I know had, for I saw

three or four of them; but I was ready to shoot before they could

recover from their surprise, so that it would have been foolhardy for

them to resist, as I would certainly have killed the first man who made

a motion to draw a weapon. I made no attempt to take their side arms,

as I did not want to lose my advantage over them for an instant. There

were three good guns burned up in the wagons, one a double barreled shot

gun, and two old muskets.

When the flames shot up, several citizens came to the scene of action,

but I thrust them into the fence corner, along with the wagon master and

teamsters. As soon as the wagons were so far destroyed, that they began

to fall down, and I saw that it would be impossible to save anything of

the wreck, I made the drivers mount the mules, and the wagon master his

horse, and taking them on the road to Fayetteville, I told them that I

was going to count one hundred; and that if, by that time, they were not

out of sight, I would shoot the last one of them within range. I then

began to count; "one" "two" "three," etc., very deliberately, while they

put spurs to their steeds, and in a brief time they were beyond my ken,

over the hills, toward Fayetteville, to give the inhabitants an account

of my Yankee trick.

Wheeling my horse, I put out once more for Decatur, but at the same time

inquiring the way to Athens, as if I intended to go there. As I passed

the burning wagons again, I told the citizens standing around, that if

they did not leave instanter, I would shoot the last one of them, and

they scattered like blackbirds.

About ten miles farther down the road, I heard the deep, sonorous tones

of a preacher, belaboring a sinful congregation. He was evidently a

devout believer in a terrible and endless punishment for the wicked, for

he was holding out to his audience the fearful picture of a lost sinner

in hell, making a comparison between his condition, and that of Dives,

who, he asserted, was once in a similar state of sinfulness, while on

earth, and who eventually brought up in hell, and from whence he

expressed a strong desire to visit Abraham in his new abode; adding that

the wishes of the unfortunate Dives could not be complied with for some

geographical cause--something in the topography of the country--a gulf

in the way, I believe. Over this subject he grew eloquent, and had

probably got about to his "thirdly," and the congregation were almost

breathless with attention, when it occurred to me that there might be

soldiers in the church, and I had better look after them; otherwise they

might give me some trouble. Riding up to the door, I made my horse enter

about half way, so that I could see every man in the house. As his feet

struck the floor of the church, with a loud banging sound, the people

were astonished to see a soldier under arms, riding boldly in among

them. Turning to the preacher, I inquired if there were any southern

soldiers in the house. The clergyman was standing with his hand raised,

as he was about to enforce some point he had made, being the very

picture of earnest honesty, looking as if he believed every word that he

had said. When he saw me, his hand dropped, and he seemed as badly

frightened, as if the identical devil he had so vividly described had

appeared before him. He was almost overpowered with fright, and

supporting himself by the rough pulpit, he glanced at the back door, and

then faltered out: "Not now, I believe, sir." I saw that there had been

rebel soldiers there, and that they had escaped in the direction of his

glance; I instantly pulled my horse back, and spurred to the corner of

the log church, just in time to see four men disappear in the brush

across a field which lay back of the building. They were too far off for

me to shoot at, and not desiring to disturb the worship further than the

strictest military necessity demanded, I rode on, after desiring the

clergyman to pray for the President of the United States. The rebel

papers had an account of the affair, but they lied when they stated that

I tried to make the preacher take a drink of whisky; for I hadn't a drop

to bless myself with.

Pretty soon I met two soldiers riding leisurely along to church. I

halted them, demanded their names, regiments, and companies, and

informed them that they were prisoners of war; that I was a federal

soldier, but that there was no way for me to dispose of them so far from

our lines except one; I was sorry it was so--but I must shoot them. They

begged that I would spare their lives, and pledged their honor that they

would go with me in good faith, if I would not kill them. I pretended

to be in a deep study for a few moments, and then told them if they

would take the oath of allegiance to the United States, I would let them

go; and to this they agreed eagerly.

Holding up my right hand, and removing my cap, they imitated my example,

uncovered their heads, raised their hands, and with a solemn look, that

would well become a court-room, waited for me to administer "the oath."

I had joked them far enough, however, and not wishing to be guilty of

blasphemy by administering an obligation I had no authority to require

of them, I told them that I would rely upon their honor, but they must

do nothing toward pursuing me, or giving information concerning my

whereabouts; and I then told them to "go in peace."

The next man I met was an old citizen, riding a very spirited horse, and

dressed in a suit of butternut-colored homespun. Tall, thin featured,

and gaunt, he was the very picture of a secesh planter. I stopped him,

and inquired the way to Camargo; he pointed to the road he had just

left, and told me to follow that. I now told him I was a confederate

officer, and that I had orders from Gen. Beauregard to gather up all the

stragglers I could find, and bring them forthwith to Corinth; that we

were expecting a great battle there with our "detestable foe," the

Yankees, and that it was absolutely necessary for every one to be at his

post.

"You will," said I, "do me a favor and your country good service by

giving me the names of all soldiers who are at home without leave in

your neighborhood."

"Certainly, sir," he replied; "I will do so with pleasure; and if I had

time," he added, "I would go with you, and help to find them."

I then drew out a note-book, and wrote down each name he gave me, with

the company and regiment of each man, together with his residence; and

then asked him to refer me to some responsible citizens, who would give

assistance if necessary. He gave me the names of half a dozen, who, he

said, would not only assist me, but would give the names of other

delinquents.

[Illustration: "His voice, although choked with emotion, was deep and

manly and sounded through the solemn stillness of the forest, until the

awakening echoes of the great mountain caught them up and repeated the

Patriot's vow."--=Page 283.=]

He now prepared to ask me a few questions, and prefaced them with the

statement that he was the "Chief Justice of Lincoln county," and that he

was on his way to Fayetteville to open court on Monday morning.

"Are there many cases to be disposed of?" I asked.

"Yes, a good many," he said.

"What is their nature generally?" was my next inquiry.

"Why, they are mostly political," said he.

I was at no loss to know what the phrase meant; the accused were Union

men, who, true to their principles, had refused to yield to the demands

of the secessionists, but chose persecution rather than dishonor. I then

concluded to have a little fun out of the old fellow, and render the

persecuted loyalists what assistance I could. But as I did not desire to

kill him in cold blood, I concluded to frighten him a little by way of

punishment. Pointing to the dense column of smoke that was rising from

the burning bacon, I said roughly:

"Look there, old man."

"Why, what in the name of God, does that mean?" inquired he, raising his

eyes in utter astonishment.

"Why, sir," I responded, "it means that I am a United States soldier,

and I have just burned a rebel train up there, and am now about to

dispose of the Chief Justice of Lincoln county"--at the same moment

raising the hammer of my gun, and drawing a bead on him.

"Great God! don't kill me, sir," he piteously pleaded; "don't kill me."

"Look here, old man," said I savagely, "if I let you live, do you think

you will trouble Union men in this county again?"

"O, no, no, I will not."

"Won't bring 'em to trial?" I asked.

"No, indeed, I will not," he solemnly asserted; "I have been compelled

to enforce the law," he then began in extenuation, when I interrupted

him with,

"Don't talk to me about enforcing the laws, you old reprobate, or I will

kill you in your tracks. Now, see here," I continued, "I will give you

a chance for your life. This is a level road, and a straight one; now, I

will count one hundred and fifty, and if you are not out of sight in

that time, I shall kill you, just as sure as God made little apples."

I gave the word, and began to count, and he darted off, like an arrow,

and was soon lost to my view in a cloud of dust.

Again taking the Athens road, I pushed on rapidly for some time till I

passed several houses, and then, reaching a shallow creek, leading into

the woods, I turned down it, so that the place where I left the road

could not be found. I traveled up byways till near sunset, when I met

with an old man, who had just crossed the Athens road, and he told me

that he had seen twelve of Young's Tennessee Cavalry and fifteen mounted

citizens after a man, "who had been raising a disturbance up the

country." He said that I answered the description exactly, and that he

believed I was the man.

"You had better hide somewhere, till after dark," he advised me; "for

they are alarming the whole country wherever they go."

I saw that he was a Union man, so I told him that if I kept on riding

they could better see and hear me, and perhaps it would give them a

chance to bushwhack me. I then told him I wanted to find a sequestered

spot, where I could leave my horse, and have him taken care of till I

could get him again; and he told me of a very good Union man, who lived

down in the woods, away from any public road, and advised me to leave my

horse there; and he gave me such directions as would enable me to find

the place, which I reached in safety.

Leaving my horse, I took to the woods on foot, making direct for

Decatur, taking the sun for my guide. The second night overtook me in

the woods very near Madison depot, on the railroad between Huntsville

and Decatur. I had tried to travel in the night, but was overtaken by a

terrible storm, and the darkness was so great that I could not find my

way. Being very tired, I slept soundly, with no other bed than the

ground, and no cover but my rubber Talma.

I awoke next morning just as it was beginning to get gray in the east,

and found I had lain down in a low piece of ground, and the water had

run under and around me, until it was about four inches deep. I was cold

and wet, and hungry as a wolf. I made the railroad my guide after that,

and passed through Madison just as the citizens were beginning to stir

about, and I saw four or five rebel soldiers starting at that early hour

toward a saloon for their morning drinks. I soon discovered that the

railroad was the safest route I could travel, as there were no houses

near it, and I followed it till I reached a point near Mooresville,

where I stopped at the house of a Union man for breakfast, or rather

dinner, for it was about ten o'clock. He took me for a rebel in

disguise, sent there to try him and ascertain his sentiments. He gave

his name as Porter Bibb, and I gave mine as Gabe Fitzhugh. I was trying

to sound him and he was trying to sound me. We spent about two hours in

lying to each other, to discover each the other's opinions, but had

mutually failed, and when we had commenced lamenting the death of A.

Sydney Johnson in the battle of Shiloh, we were interrupted by the

entrance of a Quartermaster's sergeant, who I ascertained to belong to

Young's 2d Tennessee Cavalry, and that they were guarding the identical

bridge I was sent to inspect. I got into a conversation with them, and

gave the 8th Texas--Wharton's Rangers--as my regiment. They were without

suspicion, and I do not think they had ever seen a Yankee before.

My first business was to get their confidence--the next, to draw them

into a conversation respecting the bridge. This was done without

exciting the least suspicion as to who I was. They told me all about the

bridge and its defenses, and how they were built of cotton bales; and

the sergeant gave me a description of how they tried its qualities as a

defensive work.

"We took a six pound gun," said he, "and planted it three hundred yards

from the fort, loaded with a heavy charge of powder and a solid shot,

and then aiming at the fort about breast high to a man, we fired. The

ball went through the first wall and turned downward, and struck the

ground, glanced upward, struck and went through the top bale, knocking

it to pieces, turned downward again and hit the water about the middle

of the river, glanced up and struck a house on the opposite side of the

river, then went through the walls and fell in the yard near the house."

"Why did not the officers make the fort stronger?" I inquired.

"Well," he said, "I asked that question myself, but the Colonel said it

wasn't intended to stand a siege, nor to turn artillery, but merely as a

protection against Yankee cavalry; that the 4th Ohio was everywhere, and

pitching into everything, and no one knew what day they might come to

this section of the country. But let 'em come; we are fixed for 'em

now."

He was so explicit in his description that he actually mapped out the

fortifications on the floor of Bibb's shop.

While we were talking a rebel Captain came in, who, I suppose, was a

relative of Bibb. He was very inquisitive, and wanted to know all about

me, adding that he hoped I would take no offense at his questions, as

these "were very suspicious times."

"Not at all, sir," was my answer, "an honest man is never afraid of

being watched?"

"Is not that a Yankee uniform you are wearing?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Why do you wear it?" was the next inquiry.

"Because," said I, "it is unsafe to wear any other where I have been."

"Where was that?" he wanted to know.

"Near Shelbyville."

"How came you to be there? Why are you not with your command?" was his

next query.

"I was," said I calmly, "left behind at a house, on the retreat from

Nashville, too sick to travel."

"Whose house were you left at?" he persisted in asking.

"I was left with a man named Butler."

"Where is your horse?" he wanted to know.

"I let a comrade have it," I told him, "because I was afraid I would

never be able to ride again."

"Where are you going now?" he asked.

"To my regiment."

"What is your regiment?"

"Wharton's Rangers."

"What is your Captain's name?" he would like to know.

"Captain Cook," I told him.

"What part of Texas were you from?" he asked.

"From Waco, on the Brazos river," was my reply.

"Ah! I have been there; were you acquainted with Dr. Tindsley?" he

inquired.

"Yes, sir," I said; "he is president of the vigilance committee of

McClennan county."

He then went on to ask a great many more questions about the county and

the people, and finally became fully satisfied that I was all right, and

a good soldier. He then took his leave, and in a few minutes the

corporal and sergeant got through their business and departed. Bibb then

told me that dinner had been waiting for some time, and that he thought

the men would never get away.

"But," said he, "I never would have asked them to eat with me, if they

had staid till to-morrow morning."

I swallowed a hearty meal, the reader may be sure, as I had not eaten

since I left Fayetteville on Sunday morning, and this was Monday noon;

and, after dinner, I started out for Decatur, still following the

railroad. When I passed houses, it would be so far off that I was not

noticed; and when a train passed, I would be standing behind something,

so that those on board could not see me until they had passed, when it

would be too late to either stop, or shoot, or do anything else. When I

arrived at the first railroad bridge in the swamp, not far from the Y in

the road, I came to the camp of the 2nd Tennessee. I walked in,

unconcernedly, and called for Colonel Young, but was informed that he

was over the river, at Decatur.

"Do you wish to see _him_, sir?" asked the Major.

"Yes, sir," I replied, "but I will call again; what time do you expect

him back?"

"About ten o'clock, this evening," answered the Major.

"Then I will call to-morrow morning," I said, and turned to go away.

At this point the Major began to evince anxiety as to who and what I

was, and I answered that I was on my way to rejoin my regiment, at

Corinth. This satisfied him, and he went into his tent; but an idle

soldier bawled out:

"Say, thar; what are you doin' in a Yankee uniform?"

"Why, I always like to wear the best I can get," said I, and moved on.

No one pretended to stop me, although several asked me questions. Just

as I was leaving camp, some one hailed me, and wanted to know where I

was going. I told him to a house that I pointed out in the distance, and

that I intended to stay there all night.

"You had better stay all night with us," he said; "we will treat you to

the best we've got."

"No, I thank you," I said; "I have been sick for some time, and prefer

sleeping in a house when it is convenient."

"Don't blame you, sir," he responded; "I would do it myself, if I

could."

When I got to the house, I told the lady I was sick, and would like to

lay down awhile; and she invited me to rest on a bed which was standing

near the fire, and I had a short nap, when I was aroused by the entrance

of two men. Without moving, I surveyed them unobserved, for they had not

seen me yet; and then I affected to be sound asleep, being

well-concealed by a blanket. They inquired for me, and said they desired

to speak with me. The woman pointed me out, and said I was a soldier,

that had just stopped there, and inquired if I was the man they wanted.

They said they supposed I was, and inquired of the woman who I

represented myself to be; and she told them substantially my story,

which was the same as that I had told before. One of them wanted to wake

me up immediately, but the other said that I should be allowed to sleep

a little, while they warmed themselves. The first man, however, could

not brook delay, and he walked up and shook me roughly, saying:

"Come, soldier, get up; we want to talk to you."

I got awake, finally, and without offering to get up, asked them what

they wanted, in a tone expressive of no pleasure at their intrusion.

They then began to question me as to who I was, where I was going, what

my regiment was, and so on: all of which I answered promptly and

carefully. Pausing a little, one winked at the other, who nodded in

return; then addressing me, he said:

"Well, my friend, we want you to go to camp with us."

"I have been to your camp," said I, "and came from it, over here to stay

all night."

"Well," said the spokesman, "we want you to go back with us."

"I don't propose to go back there to-night," I responded.

"Well," he continued, "I think you will _have to go_."

They had not yet drawn their pistols, and, without giving them time to

do so, I seized my own, under the blanket, and jumped to the floor,

ready to fire.

"Now," said I, "get out of this house, and do it quickly, or I will

shoot you."

They began at once to stammer apologies for their conduct, but I shut

them up:

"I treated you like gentleman," said I indignantly, "and you have

insulted me by your outrageous pertinacity, and I want you to get out of

my sight. I don't allow any man to intrude on me, while I am attending

to my own business."

They saw that they could not draw their weapons without exposing

themselves to a shot, so they walked out of the house. Knowing very well

that they would go to camp and get more men, and then return, I began

to study how I should proceed. One thing was certain; I could not get to

the bridge immediately, for it was too strongly guarded; so, sitting

down to the table, as supper was announced, I made the people believe I

was not in the least disconcerted at what had passed; but, all the time,

I was studying how to beat the rebels next. I carefully calculated the

time it would require for them to ride to camp and get a squad of men

and ride back; and after eating I stood in the door a moment, and then

said to the woman that I guessed I would go over to camp and see those

fellows; that I didn't know what was the matter with them; and that they

must have thought that I was a suspicious character; and the woman

thought my plan a good one, and I started out, going across a very large

wheat field, and then all around it, trying to find my way through the

swamp, to the river, calculating to steal a boat and float down under

the bridge.

I failed in this, however, and knowing that I had no time to lose, I

started back up the country to find our army. I took a course by the

stars, and traveled till late in the night, when I heard the

deep-mouthed baying of a hound behind me. I stopped to listen a few

minutes, and heard it repeated several times, and then came a chorus,

loud and strong, of several dogs. Listening attentively, I knew by the

sound, that they were following my track. I was near a dense body of

timber, and darted into it, at the top of my speed, and did not run far,

till I found, to my great joy, I was plunged into a stream of water

waist deep.

I now felt confident of breaking the trail; so, wading across the

stream, I raised on the other bank, into a dark, shallow swamp of

considerable extent. Holding on my course by the stars, I wandered for

nearly an hour, when it became so dark and cloudy that I could not see.

I, however, kept on, till so thoroughly exhausted that rest was a

necessity; but still the swamp seemed interminable, and the water was

about waist deep. I was almost ready to fall from fatigue, when I

discovered a white spot on the surface of the water. It is an old adage,

that a "drowning man will catch at a straw," and it was true in my

case. I pushed on, and found it was a pile of new rails, rising above

the water about five inches, and I clambered upon it, and stretched

myself out to rest, and was soon in a deep sleep. I could still hear the

dogs occasionally, as I mounted the rail-pile, and was astonished at it,

for I thought I must have traveled ten or twelve miles.

Next morning, I awoke chilled almost to death. I could scarcely

straighten myself up, I was so benumbed with cold. I got down into the

water, which, by contrast, actually appeared warm; and I waded through

it for almost half an hour, when I reached dry land, in the rear of a

plantation; and, looking across a field, I could see the negroes just

turning out to work. I immediately slipped across to their quarters, and

approaching a gray-haired veteran, I told him I was a Yankee soldier,

and needed his assistance, and he replied that anything he could do,

would be done quickly and cheerfully. I told him I was hungry, and he

went in and brought out an ash-cake, and a very large, thick slice of

ham, and gave it to me, saying, he was glad to be able to do something

for "his people," adding:

"Massa, I allus calls you 'our people,'--God's people--'coz I knows you

wants to make de poor brack people free, and don't want to keep dem

down, crushed down like dumb beasts, and make slaves of dem as long as

dey live. God will take care ob his soldiers, dat he will; and dem what

gits killed in battle, he takes right home to glory. Tank de Lord, for

his mercy; de day ob 'liberance is at han', wen do poor brack man kin

hol' up his hed, an' say I'ze a man, and not a beast. Tank de Lord, tank

de Lord, for bringin' de brave norden solders to fight our battles, and

make us free, like oder people, and de Lord bress you, my son, an' I

hope you git back to your own people, an' not a har of your head be

touched."

Had I listened a moment longer I must have shed tears, so feelingly

earnest, and with such deep sincerity were the old man's words uttered.

As I was in haste, I broke off here, and taking a young negro with me,

to show me the way through the next swamp, I jumped over the fence, and

was soon out of sight in the thicket.

When I parted with the old man, he asked my name and regiment; and the

last words I heard him utter, as I pushed out on my journey, were:

"Ole Jacob will pray to de Lord for you dis night; may de Lord always

keep you in his han'."

My guide seemed to be perfectly at home in the swamp, and piloted the

way for three miles over a string of logs, which seemed to be arranged

by accident, and not design, so as to form a complete chain across it,

so that we were landed on the opposite side without wading a step. I now

made my way across that immense body of timbered land which lies between

Athens and Fayetteville, to a mill, on the road to Huntsville, and

seventeen miles north of that town, and found that our army had encamped

there on the previous night.

Every horse in the vicinity had been picked up by our men, or I would

have now confiscated one to overtake the command. I, however, was

compelled to go on foot, till I reached Meridianville, where, as good

luck would have it, I met a negro in a buggy, who was driving a very

fine horse, and I at once concluded to ride, and make up for lost time.

I accordingly concealed myself until he got close to me, when I stopped

him and jumped into the buggy, and, turning it around, I was off--not

only with the horse, but with the negro, baggage, and buggy, all of

which were impressed into the service of the United States.

Putting the horse out to the top of his speed, I drove into Huntsville

just as the men were raising the headquarter tents. I reported the

condition of the country, down below, on both sides of the river, as far

as Tuscumbia, and that it was clear of rebels with the exception of the

2nd Tennessee and 1st Louisiana--both cavalry regiments; but it was

impossible for me to get to the bridge, and learned that the rebels had

it already tarred, and that pitch-pine was piled in it, ready to be

fired at a moment's notice.

_CHAPTER XIX._

CARRYING AN IMPORTANT DISPATCH TO GENERAL BUELL.

When Huntsville was captured, a great amount of rolling stock fell into

our hands; indeed so sudden was the blow struck, that a train already

fired up, was unable to escape. Upon this latter, Colonel Turchin's

command mounted and started for Decatur, at once; and in two hours the

town was in the Colonel's possession, and the flag of the Republic

waving over it--my friends of the 2nd Tennessee Cavalry having a hard

time to save themselves; and some of them, who were out in pursuit of

me, on coming back, being unaware of the change, rode directly into our

camp, and were captured.

The occupation of Huntsville took place on the 11th day of April, 1862;

and the amount of public stores which fell into our hands was immense.

We likewise took about five hundred prisoners; and in the telegraph

office was found a dispatch from General Beauregard, giving the strength

of his force at Corinth; together with his position; the disposition of

the command; the amount of supplies on hand; the number of

reinforcements required; and by what time they must be on the ground, or

he would be compelled to evacuate the place; and adding that if that

place fell into the hands of the enemy, the cause of the South was lost.

This dispatch was given to me in a few hours after I got to Huntsville,

and I was ordered to take my own way to get the document to General

Buell, at Corinth, but to get it there without delay.

I saw the importance of the dispatch at once, and I mounted my wild

horse--the one the General gave me--and, as he handed me the document,

he told me that he had sent two other men with copies, and expressed the

fear that they would not get through, as they were inexperienced in the

country. "Now," said he, "I depend on your getting through with it."

I turned my horse down toward the Fayetteville road, and put him out at

a rapid gait. He was a large, thorough bred animal, six years old, and

perfectly wild, not even being "bridle wise;" and, when once I got him

started on a straight road, I "let him out" to his best, till I got him

pretty tired, when I checked him up to a more moderate speed.

He made the trip to Fayetteville in three hours, a distance of

thirty-six miles. When I reached the town, I stopped with my old friend,

the tavern keeper, and got another good breakfast, for I had been riding

in the latter part of the night. Colonel Pope, of the 15th Kentucky

Infantry, was in command of the town, and I went to him and asked him

for a fresh horse. He immediately summoned some of the leading citizens

to his headquarters, and told them they must furnish me with the best

animal in the town, and bring him to me forthwith; and they were not

long in obeying, but brought a magnificent horse--the property of a

doctor who lived near. The owner expressed some dissatisfaction at

parting with it, but a Yankee guard is inexorable and it had to come;

and Colonel Pope was a man who allowed no trifling.

Mounting the doctor's horse, I went by way of Fishing creek ford, to

Columbia, the county seat of Maury county, Tennessee, which place was

commanded by General Negley; and to him I delivered the dispatch, with

the request of General Mitchell that it might be sent immediately by

telegraph to General Buell, at Pittsburg Landing. General Negley was in

bed when I arrived at his quarters, but he rose and called on his

Adjutant General, Captain Hill, to take it to the telegraph office;

while he directed me to the best hotel in the place, offering to pay my

bill.

About four miles from Columbia, I had fallen from my horse from fatigue

alone, and I presume I lay for at least an hour, entirely unconscious;

but on recovering, I found my horse tied to a bush near by; and in the

vicinity was a woman's track in the dust, showing that some one

approached me, while in a state of insensibility and had gone away

immediately, supposing I was merely sleeping; and it was probable that

she tied my animal. It was a lucky circumstance that none of the many

squads of guerrillas infesting that region, discovered me, in that

unguarded condition, or perhaps I would never have reached my

destination.

I can not say exactly what caused me to fall; I remember distinctly that

I was wide awake and whistling at the time; when suddenly it seemed as

if a great weight was lowered down upon my right shoulder, and I felt

myself sinking; then suddenly the weight seemed to shift to my left

shoulder, and I remember no more.

On my way back to Huntsville, and about eight miles from Columbia, a

negro waved his hat at me, and I stopped. He was more than a quarter of

a mile from the road, but when he saw me halt, he came up at a run. He

then asked me, almost breathless with excitement, if I was the man that

had gone up the road two days before, and I told him that I did pass

there about that time, "the day before yesterday."

"Well, den," said he, "you bin de bery man dat I want to see. Massa,

I'ze gwine to tell you sumthin' now, but you mus' promise neber to git

me into no trouble."

I told him to speak out; that I was a Yankee soldier and his friend, who

would never betray him, and he then proceeded with his information,

which was to the effect that his master and eight other men were

waylaying me in a small mill, intending to kill me, as I went down the

country. He said that the plan was laid in his master's house, and that

he was the owner of the mill; and that the other men were to come there,

as if on business, but bring arms with them, concealed. There was a

bridge above the mill, within short gunshot, and a ford below it, even a

less distance away. They were to stand in the mill and fire on me; and

if I went by the bridge, my body was to be sunk in the pond, and if I

crossed at the ford, my remains would be swept away by the current;

while my horse was to be given to one of the party, who was going to the

rebel army.

When I received this notice, I thanked my informant, and then rode down

to the mill at a charge; and instead of going to the bridge or the ford,

dashed right up to the door of the building. The miller saw me coming,

and ran in; but I called him out, and, keeping him between the mill and

myself, took him to account about the proposed murder. At first he

attempted to deny all knowledge of the offense; but I told him it was

useless; that one of the best proofs in the world was his running from

me, when I had not yet turned toward him. I told him that I did not want

to kill as old a man as he was, but if he did not tell me all about it,

I would go back to Columbia, and get a party of cavalry and come out and

burn his mill, his house and barn, and carry off every dollar's worth of

property he had, that we could haul away. He hesitated a little, and

then asked if I intended to hurt him if he did tell.

"No," said I, "but I must know where your men are, for I have come for a

fight."

"They are not here at all, sir," said he; "they have gone; they only

staid one night and day, and then gave up your coming back this way;"

and he said this in such a way as to convince me that he wanted it to go

a long way in extenuation of the act.

"Well, old man," I replied, "I will advise you a little. Never, as long

as you live, offer again to molest a Yankee soldier. Nothing but your

gray hairs now saves you from a bloody death. Let this be a warning to

you, and I will spare you; but you must give me the names of those other

men. I will bring them to an account."

As he gave the names, I wrote them down on a slip of paper, and then

giving the hardened old sinner a parting admonition, I crossed the ford,

and resumed my journey.

Not far from Meridian, a little while before night, I overtook

Sergeant--now Captain--White, of the 4th Ohio. I was very much fatigued

and sick, and we stopped to stay all night near where we came together.

Our host was named D----n, who is a prosperous citizen, and to him I

mentioned the fact that I was not well. He stated that he was scarce of

bed-room, but that I could sleep in the store-room with his clerk;

while he put the sergeant to sleep with a safe guard named Greathouse.

Late in the night I heard a noise outside, on the ground. It appeared

like some one walking softly on a loose board; and listening, I heard it

repeated; and at the same moment, the figure of a man's head was visible

before the window, and presently another was seen; after which they

suddenly disappeared. Soon afterward, however, they returned, one at a

time, and I cautiously whispered to my companion, who, to my

astonishment, was wide awake and watching the window. I told him to slip

out cautiously into the other room, which he did; but as he went he

stumbled against a chair, and the figures disappeared instantly.

For a long time I saw no more, and was on the point of calling the young

man back, when they slowly approached from opposite sides of the window.

Soon the one on the left moved noiselessly over to the right, and

another appeared in his place; and all stood gazing intently into the

darkened room. I could see them distinctly, but they could not well see

me. At length the last man who came up, raised a large, heavy gun, in

such a position that it crossed the window diagonally; and while this

was going on, I had quietly raised myself up in the bed, and as I was

not undressed, I drew my pistol and cocked it noiselessly, by keeping my

finger pressed on the trigger; and while the man with the gun was gazing

intently into the room, I fired with a careful aim directly at his face.

There was a fall, a low moan, short, heavy breathing, hurried

whisperings, and then a heavy shuffling sound, as of men running and

supporting a considerable weight. My first impulse was to spring out,

and by firing rapidly upon the retreating party, rouse my two comrades;

but upon reflection, I concluded to hold my position, as they were

probably watching the door to shoot me if I went out. I then waited till

the moaning sound had died away, and then whispered to my comrade to

return to bed. He did so, and we both enjoyed an unbroken rest till

morning.

I never was able fully to explain this mysterious intrusion. The men

may not have been enemies; I may have misjudged their character; but in

all cases, when mistakes are made which result in shooting, _I want to

be the party who makes the mistake_.

I arrived in Huntsville again without further adventure, but greatly

fatigued. But there is an old adage that there is "no rest for the

wicked," and I found it so in my case. I went at once to headquarters to

report. Although it was night, I found the General, as usual, wide awake

and busy. Turning to me quickly, he asked me if I was not "almost tired

to death." I told him I was very tired, but was ready for any service;

to go anywhere, or do anything he might desire, in the line of my duty.

[Illustration: "I opened on them with a few shots from my Spencer rifle,

and, as they were but about two hundred yards off, I soon made it too

hot for them, and they hustled down to the wall, when I 'lit out,' to

report the ambuscade to General Negley."--=Page 301.=]

_CHAPTER XX._

RECONNOITERING BRIDGEPORT--TAKEN PRISONER--MY TREATMENT--CRUELTY OF THE

REBELS.

After I had made my report, the General turned to me and said:

"How many rebels are there at Bridgeport?"

I told him I did not know, but would go and see for him.

"That is just what I want you to do," he remarked; "go and see. But do

you want any money, or disguise?"

"No, sir, I will go in uniform."

"Then," he continued, "I want you to use all diligence, and report as

soon as possible; you will find our troops at Bellefonte, and then you

will have seventeen or eighteen miles to scout alone; do this for me

now, and when you return, you shall have a long rest."

I mounted my wild horse again, and was off at once. I had time to get to

Maysville, a town twelve miles out, before morning, and there I stopped

for breakfast. While I was staying there I was overtaken by Lieutenant

Criss, of the 4th Ohio Cavalry, with about thirty men, who were going to

Bellefonte, which is about ninety miles from Huntsville. We had no

adventure on the route; but when we reached the place, we were surprised

to find that it had been evacuated by our troops. Lieutenant Criss said

that he must go back, as he had already gone further than he was

ordered; and he turned toward Huntsville immediately. I dismounted, and

as my horse could be of no further service, I sent him back to camp by

one of the men. I was now alone, and nearly one hundred miles from our

lines, and the little party which came with me was rapidly disappearing

from view.

When they were out of sight, I walked into a little grocery to see what

was in it and to hear the news. The room was literally packed with

men--some dressed as citizens, but by far the greater number sporting

the tawdry trappings of the rebel soldier. I scanned the crowd closely

for arms, but could detect none. What the men were there for I could not

tell, nor did I stay to inquire. My eye fell upon the landlord of the

hotel, and I "saddled" him for a dinner, but he refused to get it,

telling me it was after the usual time. I replied that I must have a

meal, and that immediately; and he again began to make an excuse in

return, and in an under tone muttered: "I don't keep tavern to feed

Yankee soldiers at," when I drew my pistol and told him to get out of

that grocery and order my dinner at once, or he would be a dead man; and

I was about to suit the action to the word when he darted out.

I then began to question the crowd to know how so many men should

collect together in so short a time after the Yankees had left, but no

one answered me. I knew that they were furloughed rebels, and

professional bushwhackers by their appearance, and that they had just

come down from the mountains, when they saw our men leave, in order to

see what it meant. What they had done with their arms, or why they were

unarmed, was a mystery to me. Their frightened appearance showed that

they had just huddled into the little grocery when they saw our squad

approaching; and nothing prevented their capture, in a body, but the

fact that Lieutenant Criss had failed to search the town before he

turned back.

Pretty soon the tavern keeper appeared at the door and invited me to

dinner, which I found to be a very good repast, though it was cold. Some

people would scarcely have relished a meal given under such

circumstances, by an unwilling host, and it prepared behind their backs;

but I never feared "pizen," and ate with a relish. While I was eating, a

train whistled in the distance, and in a minute it dashed into town.

The crowd rushed out, and off into the mountains, at the first sound of

the whistle; and I was happy to be thus suddenly relieved of my

ill-looking neighbors. The train was loaded with troops, under command

of the Lieut. Colonel of the Thirty-third Ohio infantry, and Major

Driesbach, of the 4th Ohio cavalry.

The Major did not like to see me start out on foot, so, yielding to his

advice, I took a horse that he provided for me. I did this against my

better judgment, for I very well knew that I could not ride two days

without detection. The Major then sent a detachment of men with me as

far as Stevenson, under command of Capt. Crane, and on the route we were

continually beset by high waters, which overflowed large sections of the

country. It was dangerous to travel through the swamps, for it was

impossible to know the moment we might be precipitated over a bank, into

deep water, or the channel of a stream, so swift that it would carry us

away in the current. However, after great labor, and several "duckings,"

we found ourselves in Stevenson, a little town in the Cumberland

mountains, where the Memphis and Charleston railroad crosses the railway

from Nashville to Chattanooga; and here we stopped at the "Alabama

House," then a very good hotel. There was no enemy nearer than

Bridgeport, which was ten miles away; and as it was my business to

reconnoitre that town, and ascertain the strength of the garrison

defending it, Capt. Crane retired from Stevenson to a post three miles

out, and encamped, to await my return. I was favored by the darkness,

and rode along the main road, while the rebels were extremely careless,

not anticipating the presence of an enemy. As I approached the camp, I

stopped a big booby of a boy, who had not sense enough to know one kind

of soldier from another, and got him to tell me where the pickets stood,

and all about the lay of the camp, which he could not help knowing, as

he had just been there, and was on his way home; and he also gave me a

very close estimate as to the force the rebels had in and around the

place; and he further pointed out a railroad bridge across Widow's

creek, which the enemy were rebuilding, or rather had rebuilt, but on

the first trial the structure and locomotive were precipitated into the

stream together.

Bidding the boy good bye, I followed a road he described, and after

traveling about four miles, I rode into the rebel camp. Up one way, and

down another, I went swiftly, through the dark, without being once

halted or disturbed by a Johnny. If they noticed me at all, they

probably supposed me to be an orderly.

Having thus a good opportunity to judge of the number of their forces

around me, I arrived at the conclusion that, on the north side of the

river, there were about five thousand men, thus confirming the statement

of a negro, who had visited us, some time before, and who also estimated

that there were about three thousand on the south side. I saw two pieces

of artillery near the river bank, above the bridge, but these were all

the cannon I saw. Bridgeport was, as I discovered, a "flourishing

village," consisting of one house--a well built one story frame, with

two rooms.

Having reconnoitered to my satisfaction, I returned to Capt. Crane's

camp, reaching it a little before daylight, when I found him in the act

of starting again for Bellefonte. I gave him my report to deliver to the

General, telling him that I would remain in the mountains, till our

troops came up to take the place.

Parting from him, I climbed up into the mountain, with my horse, taking

a route which would lead me toward Bridgeport. When I got to Widow's

creek, again, I went down into the valley, passing the picket at the

railroad bridge, and passing around by a ford, some distance below, and

attempting to ride again into their camp, in broad daylight. I had

proceeded about one hundred yards toward the camp, when I was halted by

a picket, consisting of a Sergeant, and eight men. When I turned, they

were standing at a "ready," and I saw that something must be done

quickly, or it was all over with me; so, quietly wheeling my horse

around, I made back toward them very quietly, and when within about

thirty-five yards of the post, raised my gun quickly, leveled it at the

Sergeant's breast, and fired; then spurring my horse well back in the

flank, I started him off with a spring. I saw the Sergeant reel, but saw

no more. At that instant they fired, but missed so badly that I did not

even hear the whistling of the balls. Again they drew a bead on me, but

I threw myself down on my horse's side, and went past them at a charge,

and the missiles went far over my head, and I was safe. They had double

barreled shot guns, and had each barrel loaded with a ball, and three

buck shot; this I learned afterward.

I had to run, through a straight lane, about eight hundred yards; and

while going down it, several bullets were fired, some of which passed

near me; so I concluded that there must have been more rebs about than

the eight at the picket post, though I did not see them. When I got to

the end of the lane, I wheeled into the mountains, and for the first

time looked back. Here I saw a squad of cavalry, just entering the other

end of the lane.

When I got about half way up the mountain I had to dismount, as my horse

was now thoroughly exhausted. Stooping down to take a drink of water at

a spring, I distinctly heard the rebs at the foot of the mountain,

yelling to an old miller whom I had passed, asking him which trail that

bareheaded man had taken. I at once hurried on up the mountain, and when

on the top, struck out on a path which rather led me back toward

Bridgeport--a piece of strategy intended to deceive my pursuers, who

would naturally conclude that I was heading for Bellefonte--something I

should have done, had my horse been equal to a straight race. As it was,

however, I had to rely on woodcraft alone.

The main body of them missed me at the spring, but a few held on the

right trail, and we had it up and down five high mountains, and across a

many valleys, back and forth through the different little trails, until

we were overtaken by night. I now began to think my escape certain, but

on coming down into the valley of Little Coon, I found every road

picketed, and the citizens aroused; and I heard of several squads of

cavalry scouring the country in search of me.

Some of the citizens were ready to befriend me, but others were shy;

while one, and only one, shot at me, and he stood at least three hundred

yards off, and as soon as he touched the trigger of his piece he

wheeled and took to his heels, as if Old Nick was after him. After dark

I thought I would have time to stop and get a bite to eat, as I was

exceedingly wearied and nearly famished; and I accordingly stopped at

the house of a man named Terry. He was moderately wealthy, but like a

great many others in that section and at that time, was not bountifully

supplied with provisions; but his daughter gave me some corn bread and

milk, together with some fried bacon; and after eating what I wanted, I

discovered that I was so exhausted from over exertion, that it was next

to impossible for me to move. Rest was absolutely essential, and I threw

myself down before the fire, putting my feet as near to it as I could

bear, in order to take the soreness out of them.

I had been there, I presume, about half an hour when two men entered,

whom I supposed, judging from their appearance, to be citizens; and our

orders were to treat such with kindness, and not molest them unless they

showed signs of hostility; and I accordingly used them politely when

they entered. They told Terry that they were greatly wearied, and

desired to stop for a while to rest; but they were scarcely seated, when

a knock was heard at the door, and when it was opened a soldier, in full

uniform, entered. In an instant I was on my feet, and clearing the space

between us at a bound, leveled my pistol on him. We were but about two

feet apart, and the muzzle of my weapon touched his breast, and I

ordered him to put down his gun; and as he perceived no time was to be

lost, he lowered his piece until it nearly touched the floor. This was

done in much less time than it takes to tell it; but at this stage of

affairs the other two sprang at me with pistols in hand and jammed them

violently against my head on each side, and ordered me to surrender, and

at the same instant they seized hold of my pistol-hand, and jerked it

back over my head. Thus relieved, the soldier raised his double-barreled

gun, and thrust it against my breast, and ordered me to surrender; and

although further resistance was useless, I did not and could not speak.

I was completely taken in, and it was all the result of my foolhardiness

and carelessness. I could have done without anything to eat, and I

might have abandoned my broken-down horse, which was, at best, but an

incumbrance to me; and I might have concealed myself in the mountains

till our army advanced on Bridgeport, which I very well knew would be in

a few days; indeed, there were many things I could have done, and

avoided my embarrassing situation; but it was then too late; I was a

prisoner.

I was taken from the house into the yard, when, for the first time, I

discovered that the place was surrounded. About two hundred yards from

the house was the captain of the gang, and we marched out to him; he

ordered me to be tied, and then I learned that my captors belonged to

Stearns' battalion of Tennessee Cavalry.

The reader will be able to derive a faint idea of what I saw and

suffered, from this time till I was exchanged, from the following report

I made to Gen. Rosecrans, and which I extract from the "Annals of the

Army of the Cumberland," and which was written just after I had been

exchanged and had reported to my regiment for duty:

MURFREESBORO, March 22d, 1863.

"On the 24th of April, 1862, I was taken prisoner near the town

of Bridgeport, Tennessee, by a battalion of rebel cavalry under

command of a Colonel Stearns. I was alone on a scout at the

time, and fell in with nine of the enemy's pickets. I got the

first shot and killed the sergeant, (so I was told by Captain

Poe, who had command of the pickets.) I was pursued by five

companies of cavalry. After running several miles I was obliged

to stop and dismount at a house to get something to eat, and

while there was surrounded by one of the pursuing companies and

captured. I was then tied on a horse and carried over a

mountain to where the battalion was camped; arriving there

about nine o'clock P. M. When we got there I was immediately

surrounded by about two hundred men, some crying "Hang him!"

"Shoot him!" "Shoot the d--d Yankee!" and several of them

leveled their guns on me; some of them being cocked. A Captain

Haines told them I was his prisoner and under his protection,

and he detailed twenty-four men to guard me, placing two men at

each corner of my blanket. When we went to bed the Captain lay

down on one side of me, and his first Lieutenant on the other;

and in this way I was preserved from assassination.

"The next day I was taken to Bridgeport. I fared very well at

that place, but the day following I was taken to Chattanooga

and confined in the jail, a two story building. The upper

story, where I was confined, was about twelve feet square. Here

were confined nineteen Tennesseeans, a negro, and myself. In

the dungeon, which was only ten feet square, were confined

twenty-one men, belonging to the 2d, the 21st, and 33d Ohio

Infantry, who were charged with being _spies_. They were under

command of a Captain Andrews, who was then under sentence of

death by a court martial recently held at Chattanooga. They

were waiting for the Secretary of War at Richmond to ratify the

proceedings of the court martial previous to executing the

Captain, and they said if they were ratified, the rest would

certainly be hung. I was afterward informed by the rebels that

Andrews and eight of the men were hung at Atlanta, Georgia. I

was told subsequently by a rebel citizen, that they hung

Andrews and seventeen men. I once went into the dungeon where

these men were, and found them handcuffed and chained in pairs

by the neck with a heavy chain, which was locked around each

man's neck with a padlock that would weigh two pounds. These

padlocks were larger than a man's hand. We were fed twice a day

on tolerably good bread, spoiled beef, and coffee made of cane

seed. There was no sink in the jail, and our offal stood in a

bucket in the room where we were confined, day and night, and

was only emptied twice a day, and of course the stench was

intolerable. We were denied the privilege of washing our

clothes, or of having it done. The jail was literally swarming

with vermin, nor was it ever cleaned out.

"From Chattanooga I was taken to Knoxville, to another jail,

and confined in an iron cage. Here I was told by a man named

Fox, the jailor, that I was brought to Knoxville to be tried by

a court martial as a spy, and that if I was tried I would no

doubt be hung. This court martial adjourned without bringing me

to a trial, as did the one at Chattanooga. From there I was

sent to Mobile, where another court martial was in session.

After keeping me about eight days at this place, I was next

sent to Tuscaloosa, Alabama. From this city I was taken, in

company with all the other prisoners at this post, to

Montgomery, Alabama. The first day out I was taken sick with

pneumonia and typhoid fever, but the rebel surgeons refused me

any medicine, and even a bed, and I was left for twelve days

lying upon the deck of the boat, with nothing to eat but corn

bread and beef, which latter the rebels said had been packed

five years. At Tuscaloosa they shot a federal soldier for

looking out of a window, and wounded another in the face for

the same offense. At Montgomery they refused to let me go to a

hospital, although in an utterly helpless condition. Here they

shot a federal Lieutenant under the following circumstances: he

had been allowed to go out for milk, accompanied by a guard,

and he was waiting for a woman to hand the milk out through a

window, when the guard gave the order to '_come on_.' 'Wait a

moment, till I get my milk,' said the Lieutenant. The guard

made no reply, but instantly shot him in the breast with a shot

gun, killing him forthwith.

"From Montgomery I was taken to Macon, Georgia, in company with

twelve hundred others. Here we were allowed seven pounds of

corn meal and two and a half pounds of bacon of bad quality,

for seven days. We were allowed two surgeons and but very

little medicine. Our men fared very badly here, being punished

severely for the slightest offenses. One man, named Cora, was

kept tied up for three days by the wrists to a tree, so that

his toes just touched the ground, because he helped kill a

yearling calf that got into the camp. A Floridan and two

Kentuckians, political prisoners, were confined in the jail at

Macon on quarter rations for twenty-two days. The only offense

they had committed was to attempt to escape from the prison

lot. Our men were pegged down on the ground for any

misdemeanor. This was done by stretching out the limbs and

driving down a forked stick over them, and the operation was

completed by driving one down over the neck. It would be

impossible to tell all the hardships to which we were

subjected, but I have endeavored to portray a few of them. They

may be summed up thus:

"We were confined in bad quarters, and many were without any

quarters. Our dead were left unburied for days together, and

some entirely so--at least to our knowledge. We were denied

medical attendance. Our chaplains were forbid preaching to us

or praying with us, (by order of Major Rylander.) Our men and

officers were shot without cause. An insane federal was shot at

Macon, Georgia, for no offense. We were compelled to bury our

dead in the river banks, where their bodies were liable to be

washed out. We were beaten with clubs on board the steamer en

route for Montgomery, Alabama. We were fed on foul and

unwholesome diet, and frequently left without any rations for

two or three days at a time. Our exchange was delayed as long

as possible, and we were confined in camps surrounded by

swamps, as the rebels said, that we all might die. I find it

impossible to enumerate all the hardships put upon us, but have

enumerated such as were the most intolerable."

"JAMES PIKE,"

"Co. A, 4th O. V. C."

While we were proceeding along through the mountains, we came to a

narrow shelf, with a deep abyss on our right, and a perpendicular rocky

ascent on our left; and along this I passed watched by five guards--two

before and three behind. At some parts it was so narrow that it was

almost impassable for one to walk along; and at one place, we came to a

rock which almost blocked up the way. There was not room for a man to

walk squarely between the rock and the cliff, while on the outside, the

trail ran so close to the great precipice, that it was extremely

dangerous to attempt to follow it, even on foot.

When we reached this place I asked the guards to untie me, so that I

could keep my feet from being hurt by the rock.

"No," said the sergeant, in a rough way; "ride on and hold your feet

up."

"You forget, sergeant," said I, "that my feet are tied under the horse,

and that I can not raise them."

"Well, ride on," he replied in a tone of command, "or you may fare

worse."

"Let me ride on the outside of the rock, then," I requested, "or my feet

will be jammed against the rocks."

He now turned partly round in his saddle, and drawing his pistol, said:

"Look'ee here now, sir, you ride right through thar whar I did, or I'll

shoot you."

Seeing that expostulations were useless, I rode into the narrow channel,

although I saw I should be hurt. Turning to one of the guard, I said:

"Guard, will you untie my feet till I get through this place?"

"No," he said, with a horrid oath, "we've got orders from Colonel

Stearns to keep you tied till we get you to Bridgeport; he says you are

a mighty hard case, and he gave us orders to shoot you if you didn't go

along willingly, so you had better ride in."

My right foot caught on the top of the rock in the trail, and my left

against the side of the cliff; and for about three steps down the

mountain the whole weight of the horse's fore parts rested on my ankles

by the rope under his belly. The torture was excruciating, but acting on

Indian principles, I uttered no complaint. The horse lunged forward

three times on his hind feet, until he dragged my foot over the rock to

the end of it, when I was released, and the horse's fore feet came down

to the ground again. The rebels seemed to enjoy my sufferings, but

otherwise they treated me well enough.

My imprisonment was not entirely without its sources of amusement.

Everything was not tragedy, but I was delighted by occasional comedy.

One circumstance, in particular, may be worthy of a rehearsal. When they

were taking me from the Chattanooga jail to Knoxville, I was kept in the

depot about an hour, awaiting the departure of the train; and as was

natural, the citizens who were lounging around, had a great many

questions to ask me, and my answers gave them evident satisfaction. Two

young officers and a lawyer came up and engaged in a conversation with

me, and attempted to turn my arguments by ridiculing my cause, being

particularly severe on Yankee prowess. I at once waived all further

conversation by remarking that I had taken them for gentlemen. They at

once whirled away through the crowd, exceedingly indignant, and I

thought no more of the matter, when in a short time in came Colonel

Bibb, post commandant, or provost marshal--I believe the latter, and

shouted:

"Where is that Yankee? Where is the sergeant of the guard?"

"Here I am," said the sergeant.

"Mr. sergeant," added the Colonel, "if you allow the people to talk to

that man any more, I will put you in irons, sir;" and then turning to

me, with a fierce gesture, he fairly screamed; "and you, sir, Mr.

Yankee, if I hear another word out of you, _I will put you in double

irons_."

"Crack away, sir," was my response, "there is nobody afraid but you."

He immediately whirled around, and left the depot, trembling with rage;

and I expected every minute to see a guard come in with the irons; but

the train was soon after ready and I was put on board.

When I was in Ledbetter's camp, they put me under a guard of eight men

in Colonel Stearns' tent, as he was not in camp; and while there, the

Major of the battalion came to me and told me that General Ledbetter

would have me released and commissioned, and put in command of a company

of conscripted men if I would renounce my cause, and take the oath of

allegiance to the Southern Confederacy; but I declined, telling him I

would rather be a private in the Union army than a Brigadier in theirs.

He then left me and did not renew the proposition.

Next morning I was turned over to the provost marshal, and put in the

guard tent, along with two other men who "wouldn't soldier." The

Johnnies crowded around to see me, sometimes passing into the tent, past

the guard, contrary to all order and discipline. The Lieutenant of the

guard, a fine portly fellow, finding that it would do no harm to let

them in, came and sat down by me on my blanket, in the most social

manner possible; and we passed some time in friendly conversation, when

an Indian adjutant forced his way into the tent. He began to boast of

the prowess of the southern troops and decry the pluck of the Yankees,

affirming that the latter would not stand the bayonet.

"You are a liar, sir," I fairly shouted. He was on his feet in an

instant, as well as myself; he reaching for a pistol, while I raised my

fist to knock him down. At this juncture, however, the lieutenant of the

guard stepped between us, and taking the adjutant by the collar with one

hand, and the seat of the pants with the other, raised him on one knee,

and tossed him headlong out of the tent; then turning to me, in a good

natured manner, he resumed his seat and the conversation.

The men asked me in the presence of this lieutenant how to get to our

lines, and I told them; and he then informed me that, if I were only

outside of their pickets, under his charge, he could turn me loose, and

go with me to our army, and deliver himself up. He then remarked in a

whisper: "I'll bet there will not be less than fifty of our men leave

this camp to-night, and go to your lines."

While I was in this camp, the Major of Stearns' Battalion told me that

ten of his command had been detailed and sent down to Steveson to arrest

or shoot me, but that when they started toward me, they became

frightened, and came back on the run. That same day I had shot a rebel

near that place, but whether or not he was one of the ten I do not know.

He was on the run and refused to stop, as I ordered him, and I shot him

while running, and he sprang as high as a man's head in the air, and

fell on his face, when I went back to them, and told some citizens where

he could be found.

While at the Chattanooga depot, and after Col. Bibb had threatened the

sergeant so severely, a stout, heavy man, of very pleasing appearance,

came in. He was clad in a plain suit of blue homespun, without a single

mark or strap to show military authority. He walked past the guard

without a word, apparently in search of some one, and then suddenly

turning toward me, said: "Oh! this is that Yankee, is it?" and walked

directly to me and extended his hand in a most friendly manner.

The sergeant of the guard, without a word, ran at him, seized him by the

arms, and clasping both of them down to his sides with the grip of a

vice, he stooped under him, and threw him clear across the railroad

track. He did not touch the ground, till he reached the opposite rail.

The man then walked out of the depot as quietly as he entered it, but

did not utter a syllable. After he had left, an officer on the platform

said:

"Do you know who that man was?"

"No, I don't," was the surly answer.

"It was Major General Ledbetter," said the officer.

The sergeant dropped his head a moment, when he looked up in a resolute

way, and said:

"Well, I don't care a cuss; I won't be punished for every man's

misdoin's."

While on the route to Knoxville, my guard was under the charge of the

very Indian who had been so unceremoniously thrown out of the guard tent

for insulting me; and he now exhibited all that spirit of revenge

inherent in his race. I was subjected to every annoyance that his malice

or his caprice could invent, or he dare inflict. On my arrival at

Knoxville, I was put in an iron cage in the county jail, and fed twice a

day, on good bread and beef, and some seed coffee; and when taken out, I

was placed in charge of the Eufaula Light Artillery from the State of

Alabama, and taken to Mobile, and thence to Tuscaloosa by railroad, and

from there to Montgomery by river.

While at Selma, I was once more solicited to take charge of a company

of rebel cavalry; and was tendered the influence of Gen. McTyre; the

offer of the general being made through his son, who was the lieutenant

in charge of me.

It would scarcely interest the reader to give a more extended account of

our sufferings; and I will only add, that they were of the most horrid

character, and thousands upon thousands died beneath their crushing

weight. At Macon, I escaped in company with Lieut. Ford, of the 8th Iowa

infantry, but was recaptured six days afterward, so weak and sick that I

could scarcely stand alone. Ford was only out one day, when he was

recaptured, having been run down by bloodhounds. When I was recaptured,

I was saved from punishment by the adjutant of the battalion of guards;

but the lieutenant was ironed, and kept in that condition, till sent off

to be exchanged.

While in prison, we owed much to the care and kindness of Dr. Hezekiah

Fisk, surgeon of the 8th Iowa infantry, who was a prisoner with us.

We were sent off for exchange in October, 1862, going by way of

Savannah, Augusta, Columbia, Raleigh, Petersburg and Richmond. On the

trip we suffered fearfully; men were left dead at nearly every station

on the entire route. I finally reached my destination safely, and, on

the 18th of October, 1862, was exchanged. The officers on the

flag-of-truce boat, and especially the surgeons, exerted themselves to

their utmost, to save the men; but a large number had suffered so much

that human skill was unavailing, and died before reaching Washington

City. For my part, I was reduced to a mere skeleton, and was sent to the

Cliffburn Hospital--an institution in the care of the Sisters of

Charity, and received every attention that could be bestowed, until I

became well once more.

_CHAPTER XXI._

ARRIVAL OF WOUNDED FROM FREDERICKSBURG.

A short time after I was taken to Cliffburne hospital, the battle of

Fredericksburg was fought, and thousands of wounded were sent to

Washington, to the different hospitals. Cliffburne received its full

share, and the Sisters had all that they could attend to. They had but

few sick men in their care, at that time, their patients being generally

wounded men. There were men with legs off; men with arms off; men with,

I might almost say, their heads off; at least, they were minus a large

part of them. The wounds were made by every kind of missile known to the

science of gunnery, as well as saber cuts, and bayonet thrusts. There

were patients who had suffered two and even three, amputations, and

these wounded men represented almost every State in the Union; indeed, I

might say, every nation of the earth. There were Americans, Irishmen,

Germans, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Italians, Austrians, and I believe Danes

and Norwegians; but they were all groaning under grievous

wounds--suffering in a common cause; all were Yankees now. There were

men there, who had scarcely been in the country long enough to know how

to ask for a drink of water in English; yet whose first act on landing

in America, was to volunteer in the United States Army, to battle for

the maintenance of the Government that had always been an "asylum for

the oppressed of all nations;" and whose first initiation into the

American service, was to be hurried into a terrible battle, and stricken

down in death or with painful wounds, to pine away months of patient

suffering in hospitals. But all that I saw here bore their sufferings

with heroic fortitude. The wounded veterans would spend their time in

telling stories of battles and adventures; in reading books and papers

left for them by charitable or religious persons; in dressing their own

wounds, if they were able; or in recounting the circumstances under

which they received them. Letters from home formed their greatest

solace. When one got a letter from home, he would appear like a new

man--it would make him so cheerful. It was astonishing with what

devotion the Sisters would nurse, and watch over them. Here, in this

bunk, would be a patient, feeble little boy--a drummer, perhaps, who had

left his mother and sisters to join the army, and by the stirring notes

of his drum, to cheer the war-worn soldier, now stretched on a bed of

suffering, with no mother near to nurse or care for him--perhaps, even

she did not know where her darling was; but he was faring just as well

as he would with her, for the Sisters of Charity were hovering over and

nursing him, supplying every want, and soothing, as far as possible,

every pain; there, in that bunk, is a brawny man, wounded by a shell;

his injuries are terrible; perhaps he is fearfully wicked, and as he

writhes in pain, upon his bunk, cursing his cruel fate, at every breath,

a Sister's hand smooths down his hardened pillow, and a Sister's voice

speaks words of comfort to his soul. Perhaps she is repelled with

fearful oaths--but only to return to him when he is calmer, with

redoubled kindness. Here, in this ward, is a poor soldier dying. All

their loving labors and pious prayers have been in vain; the hand of

death is on their patient. Perhaps they have watched and cared for

months over him, and have had great hopes of his recovery; but now,

alas! they are called upon to perform the last kind offices for him, and

consign him to the grave. It is a sad trial to them; and as they cluster

around the dying man, they tell him of a better world, and their prayers

ascend to the throne of grace, for the welfare of his soul.

For weeks, they watched my almost hopeless case; for some of the

Surgeons said I would die; but under their kind treatment, I rapidly

recovered, and was soon able to travel and wanted to go to my regiment;

but to pass through the "Government mill,"--would be quite enough to

kill me in my weak condition, so I applied for a special order.

[Illustration: "One of the wounded men feebly called out: 'Soldier,

cover me up, cover me up; I am cold--O, so cold!'"--=Page 311.=]

_CHAPTER XXII._

AT HOME--FRENCH LEAVE.

By the aid of Hon. C. A. White, General Wadsworth, and General

Martindale, I obtained permission to leave Washington, and go to Camp

Chase, near Columbus, where my company was on parole, for they had been

captured on the day that I was exchanged--and while at Columbus I took

"French furlough," and made a visit to my home, where I had a pleasant

stay; but took care to report at Camp Chase on "pay day." I was still

very weak, but improved rapidly, from the time I next "struck" hard

tack.

The Surgeon, in Washington, offered me a discharge, if I wanted it,

telling me I would never be able to do any duty again. I refused him,

telling him I would soon get well, and go to the field again; and I

lived to verify my word, for I have done an immense amount of hard

service since then. I went to the field again with my company, some time

in March, 1863. Our route lay by way of the Ohio and Cumberland rivers;

and as we landed and remained at the little town of Dover, for some

time, I had an excellent opportunity to survey the old battlefield of

Donaldson. The ground was rough and hilly, and exceedingly difficult to

maneuver troops on; while the fort itself stood on a commanding eminence

overlooking the river. The field was strewn with missiles of all kinds,

while the dismounted guns, the scarred and fallen trees, and the

furrowed earth, all told the terrific struggle that had taken place upon

the hills.

Having no guide, I could learn nothing save what was then

discernable--such as the respective lines of battle of the two armies.

Here and there, along the interval between them, would be places where

the timber was unusually cut up, and the ground terribly torn by

artillery, while every visible object on the surface would be riddled

with bullets--so many mementoes of violent charges under a murderous

fire. When we consider the almost impregnable position of the enemy,

fortified at nearly every assailable point with extreme care and

skillful judgment, the nature of the ground our troops were compelled to

charge over, the battle of Fort Donnelson must appear to every reader of

history, as one of the most gallant victories which our troops have won

during the late long and bloody war.

In due course of time we arrived at Nashville, and, on landing, set out

for Camp Stanley, near Murfreesboro; and there we found our

regiment--the glorious old 4th--sadly thinned in numbers, but as full of

fight, and as enthusiastic in the cause as ever. I missed many a

familiar face, and many a voice that would have given me a friendly

greeting, had it not been hushed in death. My comrades gathered around

me, and welcomed me among them once more; and now, again, I really felt

at home. No one knows the deep attachment existing among soldiers; they

can scarcely realize it themselves, until surrounded by adversity; then

it is that we _feel_ how devotedly we love one another.

Company A had not been long in camp before it was put on picket; and on

this duty we continued for fourteen days under command of Lieut. Charles

D. Henry, being stationed on the East Liberty pike, about two miles from

Murfreesboro. For several days nothing occurred to mar the even tenor of

camp life, except that a squad of bushwhackers, five or six in number,

fired a few random shots at us, which resulted in a quick chase and a

final escape.

After this the Lieutenant put me on patrol duty, outside the lines, to

watch all suspicious points; and while on this duty I was one day joined

by Lieut. Frank Robie, the Captain's brother. We rode out together much

beyond my ordinary trips, having crossed Cripple creek, and gone about

three miles beyond it, when we met an old black man riding along the

road, apparently buried in deep thought. There appeared to be a feeling

of calm felicity pervading his soul, for it shone out in his face. Such

were his meditations that he did not notice us till we addressed him:

"Uncle," I asked, after saying how dee? "ain't you a preacher?"

He raised his eyes, and seeing only a strange officer and soldier at his

side, opened them wide and replied:

"La, massa, how did you know dat?"

"We only guessed at it; but what is the news?"

"Well, marsters," he said, "if I ain't mistaken, you is some dem gemmen

dey call Yankees, and if you is, I ain't afeard to talk to you; but,

Lor', a body doesn't nebber know who dey is talkin' to now-days."

"You are right," we responded; "we are Yankees, and if you know anything

about the rebs, we want you to post us."

"Well, marster, I is de widder Trimble's Willis, an' I _is_ a preacher,

a Methodist preacher, and last winter, on de fust day of December, our

soldiers cotch me an' whipped me, kase dere was one of our boys on the

plantation tole 'em dat de widder Trimble's Willis prayed for de Union."

Of course we sympathized with the old man in his persecution, but he was

not the only one who was persecuted then for opinion sake. He then

proceeded with "Marster, it jes seems to me that you Northern men knows

ebery ting, an' you don't seem to be afeard of nuthin'; why our men

would no more think ob ridin' so fur frum dere camps dan nuthin' in de

world; but gemmen, you is in a great deal ob danger here. You is mity

close to a big company of _our_ men, an' you better be keerful, for dey

mout do ye harm."

I asked the old man how far off they were and which way. He told me very

explicitly that they were near a little town called Milton, close by. I

told the Lieutenant that I would go and see where they were. He went

back to the picket post, while I thanked the old preacher and left him.

For awhile I wandered around through the brakes and over the hills,

passed through the town of Milton, but still saw nothing of the rebels.

After hunting in vain for some signs of them, I looked all around for

smoke, but none was to be seen in the timber, or any place where it was

likely that any considerable number should hide. The old darkey had

reported them at nine hundred, but added that it was only hearsay with

him. I now turned off all the public routes and went to searching the

byways, and taking one of these by-roads that led through the farms, I

made for a little, low gap in the hills, which here rose almost to the

grandeur of mountains. As I approached the gap I discovered two men, one

standing on the ground, the other seated on his horse. They seemed at a

loss to account for me coming on perfectly unconcerned toward them. They

suffered me to approach within about forty steps, when the one that was

mounted wheeled his horse, and aimed to run off down the opposite side

of the gap, but I halted him twice and then fired. The shot took effect

between the shoulders, just to the left of the backbone. He yelled

murder twice in a terrified voice, and then fell forward on his horse's

withers, while the frightened animal rushed madly down the hill. My

whole attention was instantly devoted to the other man, who was mounting

and preparing to follow his comrade's example. I was afraid he would

shoot me while I was reloading my gun, which was a Smith & Wesson

carbine, but he was too badly scared; he never stopped, but went down

the hill at a break neck pace. I ran to the top of the hill, and

behold--just at the foot of it were about one hundred and fifty rebels,

who had been, as I afterward learned, foraging. They were somewhat

scattered, for when I got my first view of them, they were running from

every direction for their horses, which were standing in a bunch under a

strong guard, right where two roads crossed. For this point my second

man was running. Just as he got to it I fired, he being about one

hundred and twenty-five yards off when I did so, and without looking to

see what damage I had done, I turned in my saddle and called out,

"_Forward the 4th!_ FORWARD THE 4TH OHIO!" then turning upon the enemy

again, I drew my pistol and tried it three times, but every cap was wet.

I then attempted to load my carbine a third time, but it got out of fix

about the trigger works, and I could do nothing with it. All this time

the rebels were mounting, and each fellow as he gained his saddle took

the road for Auburn without stopping to look back. A few stopped long

enough to discharge their guns, so that there were perhaps fifteen shots

fired at me, some of which cut very close, but did no damage. One

fellow, braver than the rest, walked right out in the middle of the road

and raised his gun to his face, took a long, careful aim, and pulled the

trigger, but the gun missed fire; the cap bursted clear and loud, but I

suppose the powder was damp. He broke for his horse then as fast as his

legs would take him. I thought it was very questionable whether my

friends would ever hear from me again when I saw him taking such

deliberate aim at such close quarters, as we were so near together that

I could have counted the buttons on his coat. I waited till they all got

well started down the road, which was in a surprisingly short space of

time, and wheeled my horse and took the road for Murfreesboro, and there

is no mistake about it, I rode rapidly.

As I passed the next house, I saw a woman standing in the porch,

watching my actions all the time; but she could not see the enemy from

where she stood. I told her to tell the rebels, when they returned, that

there was but one man in the attacking party, and that he said he had

flogged one hundred and fifty of them, and could do it again.

This fight, if fight it might be called, took place at Hooper's Tanyard,

two miles from Milton; and on my retreat, I passed through the latter

place. Stopping a moment, I called a man to me, and gave him the same

message I gave to the woman, and as I expected pursuit, I made for

Murfreesboro, at once, which was fourteen miles distant. However, I saw

no more of that party, though I did see another squad of twenty-six,

that did appear as if they were after somebody. The fear of a pursuit by

the first party, gave me a good speed; and the sight of a second, caused

me to persevere, until I was once more safe within our lines.

I knew no more about the affair at that time, than what is contained in

the particulars I have related; but a party of our cavalry soon

afterward went out in that vicinity, to scout, and there learned that my

first shot had killed a picket, and mortally wounded a horse; and that

my second had wounded a man severely, and passed through the neck of one

horse, and subsequently wounded a second one; and that the enemy had

went to the town of Auburn, seven miles distant, without halting, or

breaking their gait; and that they deserted a large forage train, which

I could have destroyed, had I known where to look for it; but it was

behind a projection of the hill. Lieut. Henry, of Co. A, was out on a

scout, in the same direction, shortly afterward, and the same

particulars were learned by him. He had a talk with the woman I saw, and

she told him that she had communicated my message to the men, and that

one of them exclaimed: "_Oh, he is a liar, there were but eighty-four of

us_."

It was big enough, the way he told it; but I must still adhere to my

original statement, although I could only judge of the number by the

ground they covered, after they got closed up.

My next adventure was in Breckenridge's lines, at Dry Hollow, not far

from Bradyville. I got inside of his pickets, and was taken suddenly

sick, and was prostrate a couple of days, before I could get out. I

think, however, that hunger cured me, if anything did, for when nearly

famished I was able to travel. I was only sent to see if he was still at

his old place, in force, or if he had skedaddled, and was only making a

show of holding the position. I succeeded in getting the desired

information, and in the darkest part of the night, got out of his camp

again, and made for Gen. Hazen's camp, near Readyville. On the way, I

stopped at a house near the Readyville and Woodbury road, very much

fatigued, and also exceedingly ill, and was waiting till the people got

me some breakfast. While laying before the fire, I heard a rapid firing

on the Woodbury road, and on going to the door, I saw nine men of the

Third Indiana cavalry, fighting with more than thirty rebels. They were

only three hundred yards off, and I had no time to get closer, so I

stepped behind a tree, and commenced firing, with a Spencer rifle.

The Johnnies held the Indianians very close for two or three minutes,

and at one time I thought they would all be captured--there appearing no

hope for them against such odds. I was still unobserved by either party,

and I therefore was enabled to use my rifle expeditiously, and

accurately. The Johnnies did not discover where the cross fire came

from, but when they found bullets coming so rapidly, from another

quarter, they wheeled round, and fled in a hurry, several of them being

badly hurt, as I discovered from the way they rode. When the rebels

left, the Indiana boys put out for camp, taking with them several

articles I could see them pick up, although I could not ascertain what

they were, from where I was located.

The fight being over, I swallowed my breakfast in a hurry, and took to

the woods, fearing unpleasant consequences, and was soon in Gen. Hazen's

camp.

_CHAPTER XXIII._

SCOUT TO WOODBURY--PLAYING REBEL SENTINEL--NARROW ESCAPES.

When I got back to Murfreesboro it was necessary to know how many rebels

were at Woodbury, and I went from General Rosecrans, under the direction

of Captain Swaine, chief of scouts. I left our lines at Readyville, and

went a mile or more, when I got an old woman to hide me in her house in

a back room, where I slept till the moon went down; and then taking up a

branch of Stone river, I slipped into the rebel lines without raising

the slightest alarm. It was only about seven miles by the high road, but

it was more than ten by way of the creek to my point of destination. I

kept constantly in the creek bottom, until I was nearly opposite

Woodbury, when I struck off to the hills which surround the town, and

from which a full view could be had. I got to a good position on a hill,

but could not see all that was going on. I waited till day light, in the

hope that I could then see plainer; but I was disappointed in that, and

at once resolved to change my quarters to another hill. To do this, I

had to go down into a valley and walk across it, and then ascend the

other elevation, in plain view of the reserve picket. I had a small

glass, and was so near them that I could see the lint on their coats

very distinctly, and I discovered they were eyeing me closely. I walked

quickly out into the road, took a position, and began to walk a beat, as

though I was standing sentinel. Presently a spruce looking old farmer

came walking along, and supposing himself inside the pickets, he moved

carelessly, and did not stop till the second "Halt," and an unmistakable

motion of my gun claimed his attention. He seemed very much surprised to

see a guard there, saying: "Nobody stopped me here yesterday."

"Well," said I, "I belong to a regiment which just came in last night,

and the officer of the guard put me on this beat and told me to stop all

persons going into the town unless they had proper papers." He at once

showed me a pass from John Morgan's provost marshal, and I told him he

was all right, and could go on. He was highly tickled at the eulogies I

bestowed upon him, and before I let him go I managed to draw from him

all that he had seen in Morgan's camp on the day before.

When he left, I told him it was probable that I might be relieved before

he came back, but that he would find our camp just over the hill there,

and pointed in an opposite direction from that I intended to go. I then

resumed my walk upon the beat for a minute or two, when I affected to

see something suspicious on the hill, which I started to go to, and

raising my gun as though I intended to fire, I aimed at a fancied

object; then lowering my piece, I pushed rapidly up, while the pickets

watched me intently.

When on the top of the hill, I stopped again, and looked intently in the

direction of the picket, and then passed around the summit with my

carbine raised, as though I expected to see the object every instant;

till, in a few minutes I turned the point of the hill, so they could see

me no more, when I ran along the side for about half a mile; then

climbing nearly to the top, I doubled my track and ran back, till nearly

opposite the picket again; then getting down on my hands and knees, I

crawled up the hill cautiously, and concealed myself in a hollow log

which lay on the top.

I was now enabled to see the rebels in part of their encampment, and

everything that passed, either on the Readyville road, or in Woodbury.

It was very early in the morning of a tolerably cold day when I got in

the log, and by night I was nearly frozen. During the day, I heard

something running on the dry leaves outside, and I immediately prepared

for a defense, thinking, perhaps, it might be a man who had seen me

secrete myself. Suddenly, however, it sprung lightly upon the log and

dropped itself through the opening right over my face; it was a coon,

but it saw the place was occupied, and politely withdrew. Possibly I

was intruding myself into its quarters, but as it did not wait to demand

any apologies, I offered none. It was large and fat, and would have made

a famous roast; but I had to lay still, for my neighbors on the hill

were vigilant, and had they seen me for a second, they would have been

after me with a sharp stick, which they would have applied without

mercy.

That night I left my log, and took the back track for Readyville. I went

across the country till I had passed the last of their picket fires, of

which there appeared to be several lines, these being formed by Morgan's

men, who was conscripting every man he could find. I passed very close

to some of the posts--so near that I could hear the men talking in a low

tone. At one place I chased two soldiers out of an old log house, who

were inside talking to some females. As soon as I discovered they were

in there, I secreted myself behind the chimney, and began "peeping"

through the cracks. The fellows seemed to be on very friendly terms with

the old man and his three daughters, the latter being very pretty, and

at that time, putting on their sweetest smiles. I felt a little anxious

to change places with the Johnnies about that time; or, if I had felt

entirely assured that they would not have became "unlawful," I would

have been content to talk to the odd girl; but that I knew was an

impossibility, and I dismissed the idea.

On the table sat a wooden tray filled with cakes, a few of which I knew

would do me an immense amount of good at that time, for I was hungry;

and I determined, if possible, to have my fill. I, therefore,

scrutinized the yard and out-buildings to satisfy myself there were no

other men there, and glanced around to see if any picket fires were in

that section; and finding all was right, I walked off a few steps, and

fired off my gun. The Johnnies jumped out of the house, and as they did

so, I screamed: "Run, boys, run; the Yankees are on us!" and away they

went, as fast as their legs could carry them. I fired one shot at them

as they appeared in the yard, when the women commenced shrieking

fearfully, supposing themselves surrounded by those horrid Yankees--the

terror of all the chivalry of the South, male and female. I was so near

the rebel pickets that I dare not remain long for fear I would get

myself into "business," so I put out for the low ground, and at three

o'clock the next morning was once more in our lines, where I slept till

daylight; after which I proceeded toward Murfreesboro.

When within about six miles of that town, I was walking along the

high-road, inside our lines, when I saw a party of eight or ten men

coming down from toward Murfreesboro. Thinking they were our own

soldiers, I trudged along, confidently expecting a friendly chat when we

met; but when they got nearer me, I discovered they were partly dressed

in gray. I, however, still could not think they were other than

Yankees--perhaps a detail of scouts on some breakneck expedition--and I

was still expecting a friendly confab, when I noticed that they

stealthily raised their guns. That was enough for me, for I knew that

they could not mistake my character, as I was in full uniform, and under

arms; and I sprang through the cedar brake as fresh as if I had just

started out after a long rest; the sight of an enemy in one's rear

generally has a magical effect on the gait even of a wearied man, and

certainly it materially accelerated mine.

Running through the densest part of the brake, where they could not

follow me on horseback, I felt confident of escape, as they could not

see me before I saw them. I heard them crashing through the bushes only

for a short time, when I stopped, after a mile heat in the cedars,

exhausted. They were now no longer in hearing, and I, therefore, rested

myself awhile, and then took a route through the brake, that I knew

would bring me out at old Jack Dill's, within four miles of

Murfreesboro. Jack was a fair specimen of a backwoods Tennessee Union

man; large, sun-browned, and muscular--honest and patriotic. He invited

me into the house with a hearty welcome, and told me of a brush he had

had with the rebels the day before; and while the old man was recounting

his adventures, his pretty daughter Jennie set me out a nice dinner,

with fresh butter and new buttermilk, hot biscuits, and venison steak;

and who could not enjoy a story under _such_ circumstances?

The rebels had thought to surprise him in his house, and drag him off to

the army; but old Jack was roused by the barking of a faithful dog, and

took to the brake near his house; and in pursuing him, the rebels

exposed themselves to his unerring rifle, and went back

unsuccessful--minus one of their men.

On returning to the house they vowed vengeance to his daughter; she told

them to go and make their threats to her father himself; but they didn't

go. Old Jack was very proud of his gun--a long, full-stocked rifle.

Patting it affectionately, he said:

"You see she is so old and is worn so thin, that when I push a bullet

down her, she strains and swells out her sides, like a snake swallowin'

a toad; but, by hokey, I can knock the spots out of a secesh yet."

From Dill's I took the main road to town, and in an hour I was at

headquarters making my report.

_CHAPTER XXIV._

GEN. STANLEY'S GREAT RAID--PLAYING AID-DE-CAMP--SCOUTING AT HARPETH

SHOALS.

The next duty I was on was when Gen. D. S. Stanley, chief of cavalry,

made his dashing raid on the rebel camps near Middleton, Tennessee. It

was a brilliant affair, and managed with consummate skill. Leaving Camp

Stanley late in the evening, about the last of March, or first of April,

1863, he led a heavy column of cavalry down upon the camps in the

vicinity of Middleton; the march being conducted in the night, the

darkness and dust so impenetrable that a man could scarcely see his

file-leader; indeed, the General had to station guides all along the

route, at cross-roads, to prevent some of the columns from taking the

wrong way. The Fourth Regular Cavalry had the lead, their advance-guard

consisting of about twenty men, who behaved most gallantly, driving in

the rebel pickets, and throwing the first camp into confusion, by an

impetuous charge, entering it simultaneously with the flying pickets

themselves.

The rebels being taken by surprise, leaped from their beds or blankets,

without coats, pants or hats,--some, even, without drawers. Our men cut

and hacked away as they advanced, until the rebels discovered that their

assailants were but a handful of men, when they rallied, and drove the

regulars out of camp, with a withering fire which caused our boys to

suffer severely. But that was only for a moment; Gen. Stanley was almost

immediately upon the enemy with his heavy column, and he swept

everything before him, by one grand, irresistible, overwhelming charge.

On and over the terror-stricken rebels, rode Stanley's daring men with

their flashing blades; and the Spartan band of regulars, being thus

relieved from bearing the whole burden of rebel fire, rallied again and

dashed headlong into the thickest of the battle. On and on they sped,

and so the first camp was carried, and the second brigade, under the

gallant Col. Eli Long, rushed upon the foe, the ground fairly trembling

beneath the mighty host of maddened horses, while the air was filled

with the clash of steel, the rattle of sabers, the hurried fire of the

enemy, the shouts of the victors, the hoarse commands of officers choked

with dust, and the groans and shrieks of the wounded and the dying. Wo

to the man, be he friend or foe, who fell on that field amid that

impetuous charge. He sank only to be trodden under foot and crushed to

death.

On rolled another wing of the command under Gen. John Turchin, sweeping

over all opposition, till it was suddenly fired upon from a third camp.

But, even here, there was scarcely a momentary check. The doughty

general raised himself in his stirrups, and shouted:

"Now, boys, ve makes von more scharge"--

And before the sound of his voice had died away, the column was sweeping

pell-mell through the camp, among the tents and shanties of the enemy.

Frightened beyond measure, the rebels almost ceased to fight, but threw

down their arms, and thought only of escape. Our men rushed madly on,

after resistance had ceased, until recalled by the bugle sound; after

which they returned in triumph to Murfreesboro, leading with them five

hundred of the rebels as prisoners of war.

Every regiment--the 7th Pennsylvania, the 4th Regulars, the 4th

Michigan, the 4th Ohio, and 3d Indiana--all, all, seemed to be in their

element that morning; and each member of those regiments must ever

regard as a proud day in their history, that one on which they charged

and cleared the rebel camps at Middleton. It was a glorious victory to

them, and a withering defeat to the enemy.

The scene after the fight surpasses all description. The ground was

strewn with arms and accouterments--guns, pistols, sabers,

cartridge-boxes, belts, blankets, quilts, coverlets, torn tents, riddled

with balls, cooking utensils, filled with food, mess pans, smoking hot,

containing cow-peas and bacon; dead and dying men--some of them cleft,

with the deadly saber, from crown to neck--wounded unfortunates

staggering about,--some supplicating for mercy, and others begging to be

relieved of their tortures by death--some with bodies so hoof-beaten as

almost to defy recognition--these were the sights which met our gaze on

every side, and startled and sickened the hardiest soldier, as he gazed

at the result of his morning's work.

Here and there one of our brave boys had succumbed to the enemy's

fire--but they were fortunately few--and these engaged our earliest

attention; and while we were attending to these, the rebel infantry,

encamped two miles away, having been aroused by the fighting, came upon

us at a double-quick; but our worthy general was not to be caught

napping; and, having accomplished his object, he recalled his men,

mounted them, and returned in triumph to Murfreesboro; but not until the

enemy's quarters--winter quarters at that--were committed to the flames;

and with them were burned thousands of small arms, while hundreds of

horses were killed, and as many saddles destroyed. This raid resulted in

almost the complete destruction of the famous 8th Confederate Cavalry,

which bore the brunt of our heavy charge. Hundreds of the bodies of men

belonging to that command lay scattered over the field; while many more

graced our triumph by being led away as captives. Our loss was small in

numbers, but no man who fell there, could have been well-spared, as each

was a hero--almost a host. We carried off our dead and wounded; not a

strap or buckle fell into the hands of the enemy, when they returned

again to their old haunts. We shot every horse that fell into our

hands--even some of our own that broke down on the march.

In this fight, I had little in the way of personal adventure, of an

unusual character--perhaps not so much as occurred to hundreds of others

on that day. One fellow fired a load of buck shot through the right knee

of my pants, but in return, I worked a new button hole in his coat, with

my rifle. Colonel Long sent me with an order to Major Dobb, who was in

command of the 4th Ohio; and I "lit out," amid the dust, smoke,

confusion and clatter, in search of the Major, but succeeded in running

up to the wrong crowd, and did not discover my mistake till within fifty

yards of the rebels themselves. I had reached the end of a lane which

ran around a ten acre field, and come out into another that ran from a

house, through a cedar brake; and coming to this last lane, I turned

down it to a party of soldiers I saw close by. Our men were all covered

with dust, and almost as grey as the rebels; and when I saw them, I

hailed, but they refused to answer me. I hailed them again, thinking

still that they were our men, and this time rode out from behind the

fence, in full view of their lines, so that they could see my

accoutrements; and instantly a volley from the cedar brake greeted me;

and after discharging their pieces, five of the men nearest, charged out

after me.

I was riding a very pretty little mare that I had taken from them, when

we charged the first camp--my own horse having fallen headlong in the

fight, and as I had no time to ascertain the cause, I seized the one I

was then on, and saddling her in haste, mounted her--and she ran past

the end of the lane I had come down, and then up into the other, so that

I was nearly hemmed in; but I wheeled instantly, and dashing back again,

gained the end of the lane I wanted to follow, about thirty feet ahead

of them. My mare was as fleet as a deer, and I left them so fast that

they soon ceased to pursue; but halting, they kept up a steady fire

across the field, while I ran around three sides of it, and until I was

out of their sight behind the friendly cedars. I at last found the

regiment in another part of the field, up to their eyes in a fight, and

delivered Colonel Long's order to the Major and then retired to the

company ranks. It was my first attempt at playing aid-de-camp, and I

readily reached the conclusion that as an occupation, it was not

calculated to prolong the natural term of a man's life.

[Illustration: "When he saw his noble brigade break, he drew his blade

and rushed upon the enemy, but only to yield up his life, a precious

sacrifice, upon the altar of Liberty--dying, as he had lived, for his

country."--=Page 316.=]

After my return to Murfreesboro, I went to Harpeth Shoals, on special

service. Van Dorn was then foraging in that region; and the country was

overrun with marauders. I went about leisurely, and called on all the

famous guerrillas in that section, at their homes. They were chiefly De

Morse's men, and I spent ten days rambling about with them, scouting the

country daily, from Indian creek to Harpeth Shoals, and back to some of

the many little streams which flow past into the Tennessee. I was

disguised as a Texas Ranger, and was violently secesh, of course; and in

this character I was stopping at the house of a notorious guerrilla,

named Tom Couch. I grew patriotic during our interview, and boasted of

the prowess of the Rangers, and expressed my opinion of those who

favored the Yankee cause, in no very flattering terms; extolled the

devotion of those who proved faithful to the South, and abused the black

hearted Abolitionists of the North, till I got old Tom's "Southern

heart" thoroughly "fired," and he could no longer retain himself, and he

spoke unreservedly:

"The people of this section have always stood true to the South, sir; we

can never be conquered; _never!_ NEVER! NEVER! This is Dixie, and a

Yankee has never _dared_ to put his foot on these hills, although we are

only sixteen miles from Nashville. If we should even catch one here we

would hang him instantly. They dare not give us a chance, but keep far

enough from us. They never can take this rough country; our hills are

all free from them, thank God!"

Old Tom lived on Pond creek, and there was a Tennesseean, an officer in

our army, with whom I was personally acquainted, whose family were next

neighbors to him; and I told him that I was on secret service for Gen.

Polk, and that I was authorized to give five hundred dollars for the

capture of that officer--Dave Knight--and his delivery to me on the

spot; and he was delighted to know that the General was after the

Lincolnites with such earnestness, and promised me every assistance in

his power. He told me that Gen. R. B. Mitchell had arrested a great many

men and women, too, and confined them in the penitentiary at Nashville,

to be sent South, or punished as was thought best; and Couch told me

very confidentially that Dave Knight's wife was to be arrested and taken

South, to be held for retaliation, along with many others. This was news

to me, and I asked him if I could _afford any assistance_, and told him

if I could, it should be cheerfully given. He then told me that the

duty had been committed to De Morse's men, and that about three hundred

of them had crossed Harpeth river, and encamped on Dog creek. Telling

him that I would go down to their camp, I jumped on my horse, and put

out. I had been in that region the day before, but of that Couch knew

nothing; and I was aware that there was a high, steep ridge, that I

could travel a mile or so on, and see everything on Dog creek. I reached

the hill, and, sure enough, there were the camp fires of the Johnnies.

After dark I went up the country again, and warned Mrs. Knight of her

danger, caught her a horse, and took her to Nashville for safety; and

this I had barely time to do, as the rebels were ahead of us, picketing

every avenue of escape for several miles around, in order to catch as

many Union people as possible; but had not yet visited her house. She

was a very brave woman, and buckled on her navy revolver without

hesitation, and when within a few hundred yards of the rebel pickets she

showed me a by-road, which she said she knew perfectly, and that it

would take us through the hills to Nashville without going on the

Charlotte pike; and this path we followed, and reached our place of

destination about twelve o'clock, in the midst of a terrible storm.

Returning to Murfreesboro, I found orders to report for duty in Ohio,

and I left camp on the 3d of June, 1863, and arrived in Columbus on the

10th of the same month.

_CHAPTER XXV._

AFTER JOHN MORGAN IN OHIO--WAKING UP THE WRONG PASSENGER.

My mission to Ohio was a purely military one; but I had only one

personal adventure, and that was in connection with the Morgan invasion.

When the famous and fugacious John was making his raid, I happened to be

at my home in Highland county; and as the rebels passed within fifteen

miles or less of Hillsboro, of course, I sallied out to see what big

things I could do. Everybody and his son were after him, and why

shouldn't I go? Mrs. John A. Smith, a patriotic lady in Hillsboro,

kindly furnished me a spirited little pony to ride, and in company with

several of the young men of the town, I started for the scene of action,

supposed to be near Sardinia. When we had passed Mowrytown some

distance, we found where the rebels had thrown the fences down, as if to

accommodate mounted skirmishers, though it might have been to favor

their horse-thieves, but which of these things I do not pretend to say;

but this put us on the alert for straggling parties of the enemy. Sure

enough, not far from Sardinia, after passing a large body of timber, I

espied a number of men, about three hundred yards off; two of them

standing in the road, talking to a man in his shirt sleeves, while

several others were in the timber. It seemed as though all of them had

horses, but some were dismounted. Well, it was a suspicious case. Eyeing

them for some moments, I made up my mind that it was a rebel picket

post, and so I raised my gun, and blazed away. How they jumped! but they

started right toward me. At this time the citizens who accompanied me

were a little way behind; so throwing up my hand as a signal for them to

stop, I turned my horse, and started back on the jump, attempting to

reload my gun at the same time. The motion with the gun gave the pony a

scare, and with a couple of quick side-jumps to the right, the little

rascal flounced me out of the terrapin-shell saddle, and the next thing

I knew, he was making his best time back to Mowrytown. Jumping to my

feet, badly "stove up" by the fall, I called out to my comrades: "Stop

that horse! stop that horse!" but the more I hallooed, the faster they

went, until in a short time they were lost in a cloud of dust.