Another instance: In Hospital No. 2, in Gallatin, there is now at work a girl eighteen years of age, of pure Anglo-Saxon blood. This girl's reputed mother says, that when her own child was born, it was taken away from her, and this white child put in its place. She is satisfied it was the illegitimate child of her master's daughter, which she had by her own father.
In September, 1862, at Stevenson, Alabama, in collecting contrabands to work on the fortifications, we found a white man, sixty-three years old, who had all his life been compelled to herd with negroes. He had been forced to live with four different black women as his wives, by whom he had twenty-eight children. Colonel Straight, of the 51st Indiana Regiment, saw one of the old man's daughters, and said she was as white and had as beautiful blue eyes as any girl he ever saw in his own State. His was the same sad story—that he was an illegitimate son of his master's daughter, in Virginia; was taken to the slave-pen, where, with one hundred and twenty-seven others, he was raised for the market. We started him to Governor Morton, of Indiana, as a specimen of the men made chattels, and for which the South was fighting. He was captured on his way North. This is wickedness, "naked, but not ashamed."
We copy the following from the Montgomery (Alabama) Advertiser:
One Hundred Dollars Reward—Or Fifty Dollars if arrested in the State, will be paid for the arrest and confinement in jail, so that I may get him, of my boy Lewis, who left home on Sunday, the 14th inst. Lewis is about five feet, seven inches high, light complexion, nearly white, spare made, well dressed, wore mustache and goatee, quick to reply when spoken to, has "traveled," and may attempt to pass for a white person; he may endeavor to get to Richmond, where his mother and family reside.
Tuskegee, Ala., June 14, 1863.
We suppose that this "nearly white" slave, who, it is suspected, will try to "pass for a white person," is William Foster's grandson, or perhaps his own offspring. Foster, no doubt, thinks that the negro is indebted to slavery for his moral and religious training. We advise the conservative journals to copy the above advertisement, and comment indignantly on the practice of amalgamation. The occasion will be a good one; and we assure them that the instances are as plenty as blackberries in Dixie.
At Athens, Alabama, in the summer of 1862, when that noble, earnest, and efficient officer, General Turchin, was court-martialed because he hurt the rebels of that State, General G—— was invited to make his head-quarters at Dr. Nicklin's, one of the largest slaveholders in that part of the State, a devoted member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and really a highly cultivated and courteous gentleman. One day he charged the General with being radical. The General said, "No, I'm only a Republican; but I have a most radical commissary on my staff." The next day the radical commissary was invited to the house by Mrs. N——, who said she "wanted to see a Yankee who would not deny being an Abolitionist." While at dinner the Doctor proposed to investigate the causes of our wide differences. Captain H—— remarked at the same time:
"Would it not be better, while enjoying your hospitalities, to talk upon subjects of agreement?"
"No," said the Doctor; "we arrive at truth only by comparing notes."
"Then," the Captain said, "I must be a freeman, and talk from my own platform."
"Certainly," was the answer.
"Then," said the Captain, "you are on trial. You must give a reason for the hope within you. We charge you with having commenced a wicked and causeless war. And now give us your reasons for it."
"Well, in the first place, the Abolitionists are fighting against the Bible, and against God. The Bible, an express revelation from Heaven, says, 'When these servants, or slaves, are to be procured of the heathen round about you, of them shall ye buy, and they shall be your possession forever.' That settles the question of moral right; and in relation to the political question, you were for excluding us from the territories, when they were manifestly ours equal with yours. We had the same right there with our property that you had. Equality of rights was the cardinal principle of our Government. In your political action you strike a blow at the very foundation of our Government—equality of rights."
To which Captain H—— replied: "Though not much of a theologian, I have, nevertheless, looked into the Levitical law, and found a paragraph like the following: 'He that stealeth a man, or selleth him, or if he be found in his hands, shall surely be put to death.' Let us analyze this 'stealeth a man'—the foreign slave-trader—'and selleth him'—the American slave-seller, or, 'if he be found in his hands'—the American slaveholder. If you will show me how any of these can escape punishment, then I will pursue the Biblical argument. In regard to the political question, the citizen of Ohio and the citizen of Alabama are treated just alike. A citizen of Ohio can take his household goods, merchandise, and cattle into the territories. A citizen from Alabama has the same right, but he can not take his slave; nor yet can a citizen of Ohio. Hence, they have equal rights."
At the close of the discussion the Doctor said, that "his neighbors were greatly alarmed when the Union army came into the district, for fear the slaves would leave them; but I said to my slaves, 'If you prefer to go away and leave me, do so: come and tell me; don't sneak away at night with your little bundle, but come right up and tell me, "We want to leave," and I will give you five dollars, and let you go, with this condition, that you never show your faces around my plantation.'"
Captain H—— looked as though it were doubtful, but said nothing. About a week afterward, the Doctor said to the General—
"I want you to take a ride with me over to the plantation. You Northern men don't know how well our slaves love us. Whenever I go to see them, they run out to meet me; inquire after my wife and children with as much interest as your children would inquire after you."
The General said he "would be glad to avail himself of the opportunity to see the workings of their system," and started off with the Doctor.
On the way down, the Doctor remarked that he "had another reason for wishing him to go down;" that "there were three cases of insubordination, and I want to show you my mode of controlling slaves. When I told your Abolition commissary, Captain H——, the other day, how I managed my boys, I saw he did not believe one word I said. Now I want you to see for yourself; then you can convince him."
Arriving at the plantation, sure enough, the slaves came out, and made special inquiries about his wife and family. The General said that the saddest sight of all was, that all these women and children gave promise to increase the number of slaves—girls eleven years old were among these.
The Doctor called up the culprits and addressed the principal offender. "Aleck," said he, "unless you submit to the mild punishment of our plantation discipline, all order and discipline will be lost. You know my rule. I have told you before, whenever you are not satisfied, just say so, and I will let you go. What do you say, Aleck, Bob, and Dick?"
Bowing very low, the darkeys said, "Well, den, massa, gib us de fibe dollars and we go."
He turned pale, and, being utterly dumfounded, after regaining himself, and not giving them the money, said, "Be off, then!" He had too much of the Southern chivalry to back out, and came away a wiser if not a better man, but said "nary word" about convincing the Abolition commissary.
General Schofield — Colonel Durbin Ward — Colonel Connell — Women in Breeches — Another Incident of the War — Negro Sermon.
Triune, Tenn., April 29, 1863.
The last letter I wrote you was from the Missouri army. I am so continually flying around that I have won the cognomen of "the kite." It is astonishing what a charm there is in camp life; boys that have been away but a short time feel a craving to once more resume their duties among their comrades. With me 'tis a great pleasure to get back to the familiar faces of this splendid division.
Our new commander, General Schofield, is fast winning the devotion of his troops; his policy in Missouri meeting the cordial approbation of men and officers here. Leniency is played out; nothing but the most extreme rigor of military law will bring these traitors to a realization of the villainous stand they have taken. Nothing but the driving of every enemy from our lines, as we go, will bring the misguided citizen to his senses. The men and women, who have been allowed so many privileges, have all along been acting as spies. A few days since, a little boy, only eight years of age, was caught going over to his "uncle Palmer's;" he said his mother wanted him to go over and get a chicken, as the "sogers" ate all theirs up, and his mother was sick. The picket was about to let the child pass, on such an errand as that, and being such a small specimen of humanity. The lieutenant of the guard questioned the child closely, but could not glean any information of importance. As the child started off, down the road, he again called him, and, upon searching, found in the heel of his little stocking, sewed in, a full description of the entire camp and fortifications. The boy knew nothing of this, but was merely an instrument in the hands of the parents. As a matter of course the house was immediately searched, but the whole mystery is solved in the fact that several of the Secesh dam-sells were quite favorites in camp.
General Schofield is driving all known sympathizers beyond his lines, and permitting none but the undoubted Union men to remain.
A few nights since, as I was about retiring beneath the umbrageous shade of a lovely maple, a voice from above shouted, "Is 'Alf' here?"
"Yes, sir," was the response.
The voice emanated from the epigastrium of a huge fellow-wanderer in this wilderness, who was mounted upon a fiery steed.
"You are sent for by the commanding officers of the First Brigade, and I have orders to take you there, peaceably, if I can; forcibly, if I must."
As our camp was just getting wrapped in the arms of "Murphy," and not wishing to disturb them in their slumber, I consented to go. It was about a mile, over hill, through woods and thicket, to their camp. I preferred walking; but the gentle persuader on the horse induced me to "double up," and, after various efforts, I succeeded in mounting. I told the driver I was a poor rider, and convinced him of it before long. As the horse objected to my being placed so far back on his haunch, and I couldn't get forward, there naturally arose a dispute, which eventuated in the horse running off with both of us. After being duly deposited on the ground, the horse seemed delighted, and expressed his pleasure by kicking up his heels. After various vicissitudes, I was safely deposited at the head-quarters of the First Brigade, under the command of Colonel Connell.
Upon the announcement that "Alf" had "arriv," I heard the stentorian lungs of Colonel Durbin Ward ask: "Dead or alive?"
With fear and trembling I entered the tent, and found Colonel Connell, with nearly all his officers. I think Byron says something about there being
"A sound of revelry by night."
Well, so there was. Byron can prove it by me. O, shades of the "vine-clad hills of Bingen," but the "Isabella" was profuse! I remember being kept busy for two hours telling yarns and riddles, and the next day was accused of borrowing a horse and leading him home. My medical adviser, Dr. Wright, of the 35th Ohio, kept with me until the roads forked, and then he deviated.
Yesterday I paid a visit to the lamented Bob McCook's "Old Ninth" Regiment. The men are in splendid condition—the pride of the division. They are noted as the most ingenious battalion in the Army of the Cumberland. They have improvised a turning-shop, and manufacture chessmen, checkers, and every variety of specimens in that line. They have a flying-Dutchman, revolving swing, quoits, bag races, etc., while the lovers of horse-racing and cock-fighting can be duly amused every day in the week by members of the different regiments, each tenacious of the fair fame of his favorite battalion. Last night a fine game-cock, belonging to the 2d Minnesota, whipped one owned by the 35th Ohio, and, as a matter of course, the 2d Minnesota are in high glee, "crowing" over their chicken.
The 2d Minnesota, the 35th Ohio, and 9th Ohio Regiments are wedded. Each will vie with the other for the laurels in case of a fight. We have here, close at hand, the 17th, 31st, and 34th Ohio, besides those already mentioned. Our force is adequate for all the rebels dare send against us.
The voice of the boys is universally for the Union, against all traitors, whether those who openly meet them in the field, or the more dastardly coward that remains at home and backbites, and aids the enemy by words of comfort, and spreading dissensions in the rear.
The soldiers are unanimous upon the war question. They want no milk-and-water policy, and all they ask is, that the friends at home will back them in the field. Let all, whether Democrat, Republican, Abolitionist, or Pro-slavery, unite upon the Union. Let us have the Government sustained, regardless of all else. People at home have no right to dictate to our leaders what policy they should pursue. They are presumed to know what is best. If slavery falls, why sympathize with the owners? What claims have they upon your sympathies? A strange change has come over the people since former years. One party accused the other, and all who were opposed to slavery, as having "nigger on the brain." Now it is reversed. The rebel sympathizer, the ultra pro-slavery man, is the individual who is now troubled with this complaint.
Let us hope our whole people will be thoroughly united at the coming elections, and let their motto be: "We are unalterably opposed to the secession of one inch of the territory of the American Union." Then I, for one, and I know it is the universal feeling of this entire division, will not care if the man who comes in on that platform be Democrat, Whig, or Republican; he should have the support of all true lovers of his country.
WOMEN IN BREECHES.
Whether the women in modern times have taken the cue from the poet's words,
"Once more unto the breech, dear friends,"
and merely added the plural, making it "breeches," I know not; but the present war for the Union has elicited much enthusiasm among the gentler sex, causing them, in many instances, to lay aside their accustomed garb, and assume the exterior of the sterner portion of creation; in proof of which the following story of the war is given:
A young woman arrived in Chicago from Louisville, Ky., whose history is thus related in the Post of that city:
"She gave her name as Annie Lillybridge, of Detroit, and stated that her parents reside in Hamilton, Canada. Last spring she was employed in a dry-goods store in Detroit, where she became acquainted with a Lieutenant W——, of one of the Michigan regiments, and an intimacy immediately sprang up between them. They corresponded for some time, and became much attached to each other. Some time during last summer, Lieutenant W—— was appointed to a position in the 21st Michigan Infantry, then rendezvousing in Ionia County. The thought of parting from the gay lieutenant nearly drove her mad, and she resolved to share his dangers and be near him. No sooner had she resolved upon this course than she proceeded to the act. Purchasing male attire, she visited Ionia, enlisted in Captain Kavanagh's company, 21st Regiment. While in camp she managed to keep her secret from all; not even the object of her attachment, who met her every day, was aware of her presence so near him.
"Annie left with her regiment for Kentucky, passed through all the dangers and temptations of a camp life, endured long marches, and sleeping on the cold ground, without a murmur. At last, the night before the battle of Pea Ridge, (or Prairie Grove,) in which her regiment took part, her sex was discovered by a member of her company; but she enjoined secrecy upon him, after relating her previous history. On the following day she was under fire, and, from a letter she has in her possession, it appears she behaved with marked gallantry, and, with her own hand, shot a rebel captain, who was in the act of firing upon Lieutenant W——. But the fear of revealing her sex continually haunted her. After the battle, she was sent out, with others, to collect the wounded, and one of the first corpses found by her was the soldier who had discovered her sex.
"Days and weeks passed on, and she became a universal favorite with the regiment, so much so that her Colonel (Stephens) frequently detailed her as regimental clerk, a position that brought her in close contact with her lover, who, at this time, was either major or adjutant of the regiment. A few weeks subsequently she was out on picket duty, when she received a shot in the arm that disabled her, and, notwithstanding the efforts of the surgeon, her wound continually grew worse. She was sent to the hospital at Louisville, where she has been ever since, until a few weeks ago, when she was discharged by the post surgeon, as her arm was stiffened and rendered useless for life. She implored to be permitted to return to her regiment; but the surgeon was unyielding, and discharged her. Annie immediately hurried toward home, and, by the aid of benevolent strangers, reached this city. At Cincinnati she told her secret to a benevolent lady, and was supplied with female attire. She declares that she will enlist in her old regiment again, if there is a recruiting officer for the 21st in Michigan. She still clings to the lieutenant, and says she must be near him if he falls or is taken down sick; that where he goes she will go; and when he dies, she will end her life by her own hand."
ANOTHER INCIDENT OF THE WAR.
A few weeks since, a captain, accompanied by a young soldier, apparently about seventeen years of age, arrived in this city, in charge of some rebel prisoners. During their stay in the city, the young soldier alluded to had occasion to visit head-quarters, and at once attracted the attention of Colonel Mundy, as being exceedingly sprightly, and possessed of more than ordinary intelligence. Being in need of such a young man at Barracks No. 1, the Colonel detailed him for service in that institution. He soon won the esteem of his superior officers, and became a general favorite with all connected with the barracks. A few days ago, however, the startling secret was disclosed that the supposed young man was a young lady, and the fact was established beyond doubt, by a soldier who was raised in the same town, with her, and knew her parents. She "acknowledged the corn," and begged to be retained in the position to which she had been assigned; having been in the service ten months, she desired to serve during the war. Her wish was accordingly granted, and she is still at her post.
We learned the facts above stated, and took occasion to visit the barracks, and was introduced to "Frank Martin," (her assumed name,) and gleaned the following incidents connected with her extraordinary career during the past ten months:
Frank was born near Bristol, Penn., and her parents reside in Alleghany City, where she was raised. They are highly respectable people, and in very good circumstances. She was sent to the convent in Wheeling, Va., at twelve years of age, where she remained until the breaking out of the war, having acquired a superior education, and all the accomplishments of modern days. She visited home after leaving the convent; and, after taking leave of her parents, proceeded to this city, in July last, with the design of enlisting in the 2d East Tennessee Cavalry, which she accomplished, and accompanied the Army of the Cumberland to Nashville. She was in the thickest of the fight at Murfreesboro, and was severely wounded in the shoulder, but fought gallantly, and waded Stone River into Murfreesboro, on the memorable Sunday on which our forces were driven back. She had her wound dressed, and here her sex was disclosed, and General Rosecrans made acquainted with the fact. She was accordingly mustered out of service, notwithstanding her earnest entreaty to be allowed to serve the cause she loved so well. The General was very favorably impressed with her daring bravery, and superintended the arrangements for her safe transmission to her parents. She left the Army of the Cumberland, resolved to enlist again in the first regiment she met.
NEGRO SERMON DELIVERED AT TRIUNE, TENN.
Camp near Triune, Tenn., May 16, 1863.
Last Sunday week there was a grand revival meeting of the numerous contrabands, at the Brick Church, near the village. The house was crowded by the most fashionable black belles in the county, many of them dressed "a la mode." An old man arose, and stated that he had formerly been a circus preacher, and "done been ober de country from station to station, preachin' de gospel," and he now felt like "talkin' to de brudders and sistern." He commenced his discourse:
"MY BELUBED BREDERN—I haben't got no Bible. De rebels, when dey squatulated from dis place, done toted dem all off wid 'em. Derefore, I am destrained to make a tex' myself, and ax you,
"'WHAR DO YOU LIB?'
"Is your dwellin' in de tents of wickedness? Now, my belubed bredern, de world am a whirlin' and a whirlin', jest as it allers hes bin. Dish here world nebber stan' still for de Yanks or for de rebs, but keeps on its course jest de same, and why shouldn't you do so likewise?
"If de Lord is a smilin' on us dark sheep ob de flock, and Fader Abraham has got his bosom ready for to deceib us, why should we not be preparred for de glory ob dat day?
"My tex' requires ob you, 'Whar do you lib?'
"Is you strollin' round, wid no hope of de future freedom starrin' you in de face? Massa Linkum has done tole you, dat if you work for de salvation ob de Union, dat you shall be saved, no matter what de Legislatur' ob Kaintuck may say to de reverse contrary dereof—dat is, if de Union be saved likewise; and Massa Linkum is de man what will stand up to de rack; so, derefore, I ax you, 'Whar do you lib?'
"De good book done tole you dat you can't serb two masters; but dat is a passenger ob Scriptur' I nebber could understan' wid all my larnin', for de most ob us has been serbin' a heap o' masters durin' dis comboberation ob de white folks, wherein we colored gemmen is interested; derefore I ask, agin and agin, de momentus question ob 'Whar do you lib?'
"Now, my brudders, I is perfec'ly awar dat many ob you don't lib much, but dat you jest 'sassiate round;' you isn't de right stripe; you don't lib nowhar.
"Wharfor is dis state ob society, after all de white folks am a doin for you?
"Look aroun' an' aroun' you, an' see de glorious names oh our colored bredern what is fitin' an a fitin' for you in de army. Dars Horace Greeley and Fred Douglass; dars Jack Mims and Wendal Phlips; dars Lennox Ramond and Lloyd Garrison. De last-mentioned colored pusson is a tic'lar friend ob mine, and is named after a place whar dey now is trainin' a lot ob our race. De Garrison was named after de garrison.
"Den dars Mrs. Beechum Sto; look at dat lady; isn't she going from de camp to de camp just like de Martingale—what de English people had in de las' war in Florence; and don't dey call her de Florence Martingale ob dis hemisphere?
"Be ye also ready to answer de question as to 'Whar do you lib?'
"So dat de glorification ob Uncle Abraham Linkum shall resound ober de earth, and we darkeys no longer hab to hoe de corn, but lib foreber on de fat ob de lan'. Brudder Jerry will please pass aroun' de hat."
Letter from Cheat Mountain — The Women of the South — Gilbert's Brigade.
LETTER FROM CHEAT MOUNTAIN.
Camp of 6th Ohio, at Elkwater, Va., 1861.
The trees begin to look barren, the bronzed hue of the surrounding hills admonishing us that October, chill and drear, is upon us. Every thing in nature is cheerless, and, adding to nature, man has, with despoiling hands, laid waste the country for miles about our present location. Pen can not describe the devastation of an army: orchards are swept away; of fences scarce a trace is left; houses are converted into stables, fodder-cribs, and store-houses; corn-fields are used as pastures; forests must fall to supply our men with fire-wood; in fact, with the soldier nothing is sacred. And why should any thing be sacred in this "section," where traitors have been fostered, and where every vote cast was for secession? Let them reap the harvest they themselves have sown.
The farmers come daily into camp, whining because our men cut down their sugar-trees, or "find" a few cabbages or apples; but, as the Colonel is aware that the boys must be kept in fire-wood, he is heedless of their whimperings.
The cold is telling fearfully upon the men at night, and I fear, if a supply of clothing is not soon forthcoming, much suffering will be the consequence. It is a burning disgrace to somebody, that such things should be, and it is galling to our regiment to see Indiana troops, just mustered into service, passing our encampment with large, heavy overcoats, and every thing about them denoting comfort and an attention to their wants. The cold frosts are beginning to leave their imprints; already snow is capping the mountain-tops, and God help us if we get winter-bound in this "neck of woods." Some few are glorying in the thought of the fine deer and bear hunts they will have. The latter I can't bear to think about, and the former a man must be deranged to think of catching upon, these mountains.
The paymaster has been disbursing his funds for the past three days, and the boys are all in excellent spirits. Theodore Marsh and Leonard Swartz will go home heavily laden with the hard earnings of this regiment. How many hearts will be gladdened by the receipt of the little pittances sent, and how loth many will be to use the money when they remember the toil endured to obtain it! But let the friends rest assured that the money was not thought of. A purer, a more noble thought and higher aim animated the breasts, of those who have so nobly suffered—a determination to see their country's honor maintained.
Our pickets have scoured the country around, far and near, but no signs of the enemy can be found. There is no doubt but that they have retired for the winter. There will, however, be plenty left to guard the interests of the Federal army until spring, when, no doubt, the campaign will be opened with vigor, if not sooner settled.
In the reconnoissance by our regiment, a week since, traces of Captain Bense and his party were found in the Secession camp; several of Hall & Cobb's (our sutlers) checks being found in their camp, and a prisoner, afterward brought in, said they had been forwarded to Richmond, Va.
A rumor that this regiment is to be immediately ordered to Cincinnati set the boys fairly dancing; but Madame Rumor is so frequent a visitor that the more sensible scarcely noticed her arrival. The most authentic rumor is, that Colonel Bosley is to be made a brigadier-general. "We shall see what we shall see."
The sky is threatening, and dark as midnight, the air intensely cold, and we are hourly expecting a regular old snow-storm. Chestnuts, fine and ripe, are abundant; there are hundreds of bushels all over these hills, while wild grapes are as abundant as hops in Kent.
Yesterday, a wild-cat was shot and brought into camp by one of the 3d Ohio boys. He was about three feet in length, and a "varmint" I shouldn't like to meet on a dark night.
THE WOMEN OF THE SOUTH.
A great deal has been written about them, and there is no doubt but they are a thousandfold more bitter than the men. They were, and many are yet, perfectly venomous; and the more ignorant, the more spiteful they seem. The following act was blazoned forth as wonderfully heroic in its character, just after our forces occupied Philippa, Beelington, and Beverly:
"The two noble heroines, Misses Abbie Kerr and Mary McLeod, of Fairmont, Marion County, who rode from their home to Philippa, a distance of thirty-odd miles, to apprise our forces there of the approach of the enemy, arrived in Staunton by the western train, on Wednesday night last, and remained till Friday morning, when they went to Richmond. While here they were the 'observed of all observers,' and were received with a cordial welcome. Great anxiety was manifested by all to hear a detailed account of their interesting adventures from their own lips.
"They left Fairmont at six o'clock on Sunday morning, and hastened, without escorts, to Philippa. They had not gone a great distance before they found that a shoe of one of the horses needed fixing. They stopped at a blacksmith's shop for that purpose, and while there a Union man came up and questioned them very closely as to who they were, and on what mission they were going. Miss McLeod replied to his interrogatories, telling him that their surname was Fleming, and that they were going to Barbour County, to see their relations. Their interrogator seemed to be very hard to satisfy, and it taxed the ingenuity of Miss McLeod to improvise a story which would succeed in imposing upon him. As soon as the horse-shoe had been fixed, they again proceeded upon their way, but had not gone far before their evil genius, their interrogator at the blacksmith's shop, dashed by them on horseback. They perceived that his suspicions had not been allayed, and that he was going on in advance of them to herald the approach of spies. They allowed him to pass out of sight, in advance, and then destroyed the letters they had in their possession, that the search of their persons, to which they then anticipated they would be required to submit, might not betray them. When they arrived at the village of Webster, they found it in commotion, and many persons were anxiously awaiting their arrival, in the eager hope of capturing the spies.
"They were there subjected to a rigorous cross-examination. The heroines were calm and self-possessed—answering questions without hesitancy, and expressing a perfect willingness to have their persons searched by any lady who might be selected for that purpose. They were allowed to pass on, after being detained for some time, though there were some in the crowd who were very much opposed to it. As soon as they got out of sight of that village they rode very rapidly, for fear they might still be arrested by some of those who were so much opposed to allowing them to proceed. They arrived at Philippa about two o'clock in the afternoon of the same day, and told Colonel Porterfield that the enemy would attack his camp that night or the next morning.
"These ladies then went to the house of a Mr. Huff, about a mile and a half from Philippa, where they stayed all night. The next morning they heard the report of the firing at Philippa, and, in disguise, accompanied by a countrywoman, returned to Philippa, on foot, to see what had been the result. They moved about among the enemy without being detected or molested in the least degree. Going into one of the houses, they found James Withers, of the Rockbridge Cavalry, who had concealed himself there to prevent the enemy from capturing him. These ladies immediately told him that they would effect his rescue, if he would trust to them. He very readily consented; whereupon these ladies disguised him as a common countryman, by furnishing him with some old clothes; they then gave him a basket of soap, with a recipe for making it, that he might pass as a peddler of that necessary article. With these old clothes, and a basket of soap on his arm, and gallantly mounted upon a mule, accompanied by his guardian angels, he passed safely through the crowds of the enemy, and was brought by them, safe and sound, into the camp of his friends at Beverly, after a circuitous and hard ride over precipitous mountains, where persons had seldom, if ever, ridden before. His fellow-soldiers and friends rejoiced greatly when he arrived, for they thought that he was either killed or taken prisoner by the enemy; they rejoiced that the supposed 'dead was alive,' and the 'lost was found.' He is now known in our camp as the 'peddler of soap.' The heroic conduct of these ladies will live in history, and they will become the heroines of many a thrilling story of fiction, in years to come."
We have no doubt but that their names will live in history. Benedict Arnold is still in the memory of every American, loathed and despised, as Davis and his crew will eventually be, without doubt.
In May last, the 124th Ohio was near Franklin, Tenn., a part of General Granger's division, and belonging to Gilbert's brigade. Friend "Esperance," in writing about the regiment, says: "We are encamped near Franklin, in a beautiful situation as regards the view of the country; and in a military point of view it is excellent, being surrounded with sufficient elevations of land to enable our fortifications to sweep the whole country in every direction. The brigade is composed of the 113th, 124th, 125th, and the 121st Ohio Volunteers, and the 78th Illinois. The 124th Ohio was organized in Cleveland, but contains two companies from Cincinnati—company G, under the command of William A. Powell, of your city, and company I, under the command of Captain J. H. Frost, also of Cincinnati. Captain Powell has been in the service ever since the commencement of the war; he has served in Virginia and Maryland, also in Missouri, in General Fremont's Body-guard. He was again in Maryland last summer, at Cumberland, in command of a company in the 84th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and is, in all respects, strictly a military man, very generally liked by his company, and respected by his superior officers. Captain Frost has also been in the service before, and is much liked by his men, and esteemed by all who know him here. The health of the regiment is good, and of the two companies from Cincinnati especially so.
"With regard to the army of General Rosecrans, it is by us considered invincible. General Rosecrans is looked upon as a host in himself. Every soldier appears anxious to meet the enemy; the idea of a defeat never seems to enter into their imagination, but all are enthusiastic in their expectation of being able to restore the South and South-west of our common country to subjection to the Constitution, and obedience to the laws."
* * * * *
A chaplain of an Indiana regiment recently married one of the Hoosier boys to a Tennessee girl, and concluded the ceremony by remarking, the oath was binding for three years, or during the war!
Confessions of a Fat Man — Home-guard — The Negro on the Fence — A Camp Letter of Early Times — "Sweethearts" against the War.
CONFESSIONS OF A FAT MAN—HOME-GUARD.
The moment the flag was threatened, large bodies of men were called upon to rally to its defense. Being large and able-bodied, I enrolled with the home-guard. The drill was very severe in hot weather, and I wanted an attendant, a fan, and pitcher of ice-water.
I am constantly reminded that one of the first requirements of a soldier is to throw out his chest and draw in his stomach. Having been burned out several times, while occupying an attic, I have had considerable practice in throwing out my chest; but by what system of practice could I ever hope to draw in my stomach? I can't "dress up;" it's no use of my trying. If my vest buttons are in a line, I am far in the rear. If I toe the mark, a fearful bulge indicates my position. Once we had a new drill-sergeant, who was near-sighted. Running his eye along the line, he exclaimed sharply:
"What is that man doing in the ranks with a base drum?"
He pointed at me; but I hadn't any drum; it was the surplus stomach, that I couldn't, for the life of me, draw in. I am the butt of numberless jokes, as you may well suppose. They have got a story in the Guards, that, when I first heard the command "order arms," I dropped my musket, and, taking out my notebook, began drawing an order on the Governor for what arms I needed. They say I ordered a Winans steam-gun, with a pair of Dahlgren howitzers for side arms! Base fabrication! My ambition never extended beyond a rifled cannon, and they know it!
Although, in respect to size, I belong to the "heavies," my preference is for the light infantry service. My knapsack is marked "Light Infantry!" One evening the spectators seemed convulsed about something, and my comrades tittered by platoons, whenever my back was turned. It was a mystery to me till I laid off my knapsack. Some wretch had erased the two final letters, and I had been parading, all the evening, labeled, "LIGHT INFANT!"
The above is one of the thousand annoyances to which I am subjected, and nothing but my consuming patriotism could ever induce me to submit to it. I overheard a spectator inquire of the drill-sergeant one day:
"Do you drill that fat man all at once?"
"No," he returned, in an awful whisper; "I drill him by squads!"
I could have drilled him, if I had had a bayonet.
Specifications have been published in regard to my uniform, and contractors advertised for; the making will be let out to the lowest bidder. In case the Guards are ordered to take the field, a special commissary will be detailed to draw my rations.
That reminds me of a harrowing incident. On last night's drill an old farmer, who dropped in to see us drill, took me aside, and said he wanted to sell me a yoke of powerful oxen.
"My ancient agriculturist," said I, smiling at his simplicity, "I have no use for oxen."
"Perhaps not at present," quoth he, "but if you go to war you will want them."
"For what?" said I, considerably annoyed.
"Want 'em to draw your rations!"
The Guards paid me a delicate compliment at their last meeting: elected me Child of the Regiment, with the rank of a First Corpulent. I was about to return thanks in a neat speech, when they told me it was no use; that a reporter, who was present, had got the whole thing in type—speech and all—and I could read it in the evening paper. I got his views, and held my own.
Yours for the Union, including the Stars, also the Stripes.
"What are you going to do, you bad woman's boy?" said Mrs. Wiggles, as her youngest son passed through the kitchen into the garden.
"Down with the Seceshers!" he shouted; and she looked out just in time to see the top of a rose-bush fall before the artillery-sword of her son, that the youngster held in his hand.
"You had better go to Molasses Jugtion, if you want to do that," she said, restraining his hand as 't was lifted against a favorite fuschia, that she had trained with so much care.
"Dear me!" she murmured, half to herself; "what a terrible thing war is, when children show signs of such terrible consanguinity!"
THE NEGRO ON THE FENCE.
"Hearken to what I now relate, And on its moral meditate."
A Wagoner, with grist for mill, Was stalled at bottom of a hill. A brawny negro passed that way, So stout he might a lion slay. "I'll put my shoulder to the wheels, If you'll bestir your horse's heels." So said the African, and made As if to render timely aid. "No," cried the wagoner, "stand back! I'll take no help from one that's black;" And, to the negro's great surprise, Flourished his whip before his eyes. Our "darkey" quick "skedaddled" thence, And sat upon the wayside fence. Then went the wagoner to work, And lashed his horses to a jerk; But all his efforts were in vain; With shout, and oath, and whip, and rein, The wheels budged not a single inch, And tighter grow the wagoner's pinch. Directly there came by a child, With toiling step, and vision wild, "Father," said she, with hunger dread, "We famish for the want of bread." Then spake the negro: "If you will, I'll help your horses to the mill." The wagoner, in grievous plight, Now swore and raved with all his might, Because the negro wasn't white; And plainly ordered him to go To a certain place, that's down below; Then, rushing, came the wagoner's wife, To save her own and infant's life; By robbers was their homestead sacked, And smoke and blood their pillage tracked.
Here stops our tale. When last observed, The wagoner was still "conserved" In mud, at bottom of the hill, But bent on getting to the mill; And hard by, not a rod from thence, The negro sat upon the fence.
A CAMP LETTER OF EARLY TIMES.
Our camp is alive; our camp is exuberant; our camp is in a furore. "Who's that man with 'Secesh' clothes?" says one; and "Who's that big-faced, genial, good-natured looking feller?" says another. "Are they prisoners?" "Maybe it's the paymaster; and that short, chunky man is here to watch the other feller, and see that the money is paid all on the square." "No, it aint one nor t' other—'tis Cons Millar, the ever-vigilant and hard-working Cons, of the Commercial; and the good-natured looking feller is INVISIBLE GREEN, or, as he is familiarly called, Bill Crippen, of the Times." They have brought sunshine into camp, for a merrier set of soldiers the sun never shone on than are the Guthrie Grays to-night. Cons has just had supper, and Bill is "spreading devastation" over the table of Captain Andrews. They have both been up inspecting intrenchments, which are in statu quo, the brave Lee having retreated some sixteen miles, or, more politely speaking, "fallen back." So I suppose we will soon have to creep up on the gallant gentleman once more, and see if he can not be induced to fall still further back.
The news of the gallant conduct of our Cincinnati boys at the late fight under Rosecrans sent a thrill of pleasure to the hearts of all our men, and a feeling of envy that we were not with them to share the glory of that day. Colonel Lytle, Stephen McGroarty, and the other brave fellows' names, are on the lips of all, and a fervent "God bless them" is frequently uttered. Our encampment now may be said to extend over four miles, a brigade of twelve thousand; and I can assure you they make a formidable appearance. Three splendid batteries, three or four fine cavalry companies, and any quantity of men, are yet on the way.
One of the best Secesh tricks I have heard of was attempted, a short time since, by a rebel telegrapher. When Lee was about to advance upon this point, wishing to ascertain the number of troops here, he sent out this operator, with pocket implements, to attach to our wires. So, carefully picking his way through the woods, Mr. Operator came upon a secluded part of the road; climbing the pole, he attached his battery, and "click, click, click," he inquires of our operator at head-quarters, "How many troops have you altogether, that can, at any pressing event, be sent to aid us if we attack Lee?" Just as he concluded the query, one of the ever-vigilant pickets of the Indiana regiments, who infest the woods and roads in every direction, espied the gentleman, and brought him into camp with his non-confiscated horse. A minute more and the fellow, doubtless, would have been fully informed, as he had guarded against cipher-telegraphing by telegraphing that the cipher-operator was out, and the general wanted an immediate answer.
Our boys continue to scour the woods, and constantly are finding Secesh documents. The following beautiful poem is from the pen of Miss M. H. Cantrell, of Jonesboro, Tennessee, and was found in the pocket of a "Secesher," who had invaliantly fled, dropping his overcoat and love-epistles. It is entitled:
SWEETHARTS AGAINST WAR.
O Dear! its shameful I declare To make the men all go And leive so manny sweetharts here Wit out a single bough.
We like to see them leave 'tis true, And wold not urge them stay; But what are we poor girls to do When you are all away?
We told you we cold spare you here Before you had to go, But Bless your Harts, wernt aware That we would miss you sow.
We miss you all in manny ways, But troth will ware out; The gratest things we miss you for Joy going withe out.
On Sunday when we go to church, We look in vane for sum To mete us smilin on the porch, And ask to see us home.
And then we dont enjoy a walk Since all the bows have gone; For what the good to us plain talk If we must trip alone?
But what the use talkin thus We will try to beecontent And if you cannot come to us A message may bee cent.
And that one comfort any way Although we are Apart, There is no reason why we may Not open hart to hart.
We trust it may not ever come To any War like test, We want to see our Southern home Secured in peaceful rest.
But if the blood of those we love In freedoms cause must floo, With fervent trust in Lov Above We bid them onward go.
Written By your friend,
M. H. Cantrell.
I inclose you the original document. I suppose the aforesaid lovyer did "onward go," and, no doubt, is still going, if he has not already reached the town of Jonesboro, and met his gal upon "the porch" as she returned from church.
Snake-hunting has given way to trout-fishing. As a matter of course, the noise of camp has driven all trout four miles from our present abode; but scarcely a day passes but our men return with a nice string of these delicious denizens of the brooks hereabouts.
I have often, heretofore, thought I would like much to be a cavalry soldier, but I'll swear I wouldn't like to be a cavalry horse; for, of all the hay-forsaken, fleshless-looking animals eyes ever gazed upon, the horses out here take the premium. Well, 'pon my word, I took Captain Bracken's horse (the roan I once rode) a quart of oats, sent from Beverly; well, the horse wouldn't eat them; he didn't know what they were! and I had to break or smash some of them so that he might smell the "aroma," to facilitate his knowledge, and he was too weak to inhale air enough to inflate his nostrils, so that he could smell the dainty meal I had in my kindness brought him. Captain Bracken promised to have them parched and made into a tea for the animal.
September 30.—What a jump of time! Well, I'll tell you the cause. The morning I intended to post this letter the entire regiment was ordered to make an advance upon Mingo Flats, a Secession hole fifteen miles from this place. They were accompanied by Howe's battery and an Indiana regiment. The boys were not more than fairly started when a terrific rain-storm set in. O! what a pitiless, deluging rain! The very thought of that sprinkle of twenty hours of unceasing torrent makes me, even now, feel as if I should forever have an antipathy against drinking water. Onward the boys trudged, seemingly not caring a cuss if school kept or not. The Elkwater soon assumed a rather formidable appearance; night came on, and with it an increase of the flood. We stood up against trees to rest; some crawled in fence-corners; a few, more lucky, found an old log stable and a smoke-house; these were quickly filled from "pit to dome," as Fred Hunt would say, for some slept on rafters, cross-beams, etc. Still it poured down; still the fountains of heaven gushed forth, fifth, tenth, or twentieth; anyhow, it continued to rain, and at daybreak it rained yet, and the regiment moved on to Mingo Flats; drove in the rebel pickets; heard the Secesh varmints beat the long roll; knew they were scared; and still it rained! Colonel Sullivan, of the Indiana regiment, was in, command: sent out a big gun; boys went on a big hill; found the enemy were eight or ten thousand strong; big gun ordered back, and as we only had two thousand men, remembered the axiom about "discretion being the better part of valor;" obeyed the aforesaid axiom. Still, recollect, it kept raining in torrents; dripping down Quarter-master Shoemaker's pants into his boots; running over Colonel Anderson's back. Major Christopher looked dry, in order to get a drink: but that was a failure. Captain Westcott looked sad; in fact he said it was the wettest time he ever knew or heard tell of—wondered if old Noah ever explored these big hills.
Captain Russell picked out a fine hill to locate upon, if this really intended to be another deluge. Captain Clark observed he was fond of heavy wet. Jules Montagnier said it was due time to dry up. Still it rained. The regiments were ordered to fall back. Well, the mud was so infernal slippery it was very easily done; some fell forward in the vain endeavor to fall back. After killing seven or eight poor, pauper-looking, "Secesh varmints," the boys set fire to Marshall's store, the enterprising proprietor being away from his business—a very notorious Secessionist, having donated $25,000 to the C. S. A. The building made a beautiful fire, and our boys brought away a fine lot of saws, augers, and various other articles of dry goods. The loss of the augers, Colonel Anderson says, will be a great bore to Marshall. Please don't forget how infernal hard it was raining all this time.
Well, they reached the first ford on their return trip; a sad misnomer now, for it was an unfordable ford. The water of old Elkwater was rearing and plunging, and furiously wild. Every mountain (and there are myriads) was sending out its wet aid to swell the raging torrent; the regiment, at this time, only three miles from the Secessionists. A bold front had to be put on, as it was a sure thing, if the rebels found out the weakness of our force, we were goners. There was no doubt, however, but that they were terribly frightened, as they had heard we were twenty thousand strong. Anxiously the boys waited the falling of the mighty waters. It had now rained twenty-six hours. Large trees came whistling by with lightning speed; the river seemed wild with delight, and the waves clapped their hands, leaping higher and higher; but, as you know, (no reflection meant,) Mr. Editor, a drunken man will get sober if not supplied with more liquor, so the river will subside if not furnished with the "aqueous fluid."
Colonel Anderson was the first to cross the stream. His horse plunged in boldly, but was within an ace of being carried away by the still almost resistless current. There goes "Shoemaker," the easy, good-natured "Ned," as he is called. Yes, sure enough, there he does go, for his horse has plunged, and the torrent is too wild, for they are both beyond their depth, and the horse is going down, down. Every eye is bent upon "Shoe." He is carried further and further. He grasps a tree and pulls himself up, looking the picture of despair. The major says, "H-o-l-d, b-o-y-s! d-o-n't b-e i-n t-o-o m-u-c-h h-u-r-r-y;" but they, eager to get back, walked a foot-bridge of rough timber and old logs, very narrow. Several crossed upon this, Captain Russell making a very narrow escape with his life. Colonel Anderson, perceiving the danger, ordered that no more should cross, threatening to shoot the first man who should disobey the order. This, as a matter of course, was done to deter the men from hazarding their lives needlessly. Colonel Anderson had but just given the order, when Frank Guhra, a private in Captain Clark's company, made the attempt, reached the middle of the stream, lost his balance, fell, and in a moment was whirled out of sight, the current running at the rate of twenty miles an hour. Several lost their guns. It was three or four hours before they succeeded in crossing.
Upon their return to camp an unwelcome sight was presented; the water had swept nearly every thing away. The tents had been, many of them, three and four feet in water; some had to take to trees to save life. The water had subsided, leaving a nasty slime, a foot thick, all over the camp-ground. Camp-kettles, knapsacks haversacks, and numerous floatable, light articles, had passed down stream—Captain Wilmington losing every thing. I saw the Captain trying to borrow a pair of pantaloons, he running around in his drawers. An old resident of this locality (Mr. Stonnicker) says this is the biggest flood ever known in this region. By the by, Mr. Stonnicker has a beautiful daughter, Miss Delilah, who seems to be fairly "the child of the regiment," especially of the officers. I will not mention names, as the wives at home would be jealous.
I see you talk of sending out a gentleman to take money home to the families of the volunteers. But cuss the paymaster, "or any other man." Why don't the paymaster come? Send me some papers. I can't get any without a peck of trouble.
The Winter Campaign in Virginia — Didn't Know of the Rebellion — General W. H. Litle — Drilling — A Black Nightingale's Song.
THE WINTER CAMPAIGN IN VIRGINIA.
Your correspondent has been sick. Your correspondent has been in bed; has had the rheumatism in his back, neck, arms, legs, toes; is down with the mountain-fever; tries in vain to sleep; howling dog, belonging to Captain Russell's "brigade," keeps up such an infernal howling it makes me mad: wish Russell had to eat him, hair and all. It was raining when I last wrote; think we had just been flooded out. Well, the very next day we were again ordered over that Godforsaken road, when the clouds again blackened up, and five hundred men tramped it. What have the Sixth done that the heavens should open their floodgates? All I wonder is, how the boys stand it. But they do bear up under it nobly, remembering the Shakspearian passage, slightly altered:
"The same clouds that lower upon the house of Abe Lincoln Look frowningly upon Jeff Davis."
The boys are truly "ragged and sassy;" very many are shoeless, and with a flag of truce protruding from the rear. The service in these woods wears out more clothing than ordinary service should. Some of the boys are careless, but many are, helplessly, nearly naked. Our officers have used every exertion to get apparel, but the apparel is, like a paymaster, "hard to get hold of." Our men have been sorely tantalized by seeing regiment after regiment of the Indiana troops paid off, before their very eyes. In fact, they have been running round camp, with five, ten, and twenty-dollar gold pieces, shaking them in our faces. Add Colwell—Corporal Add—paid an Indiana boy of the 17th Regiment three slices of bacon and half a pound of coffee just for the privilege of hefting and rubbing his eye with an eagle. Colwell is a good printer; Colwell is a good writer; and, last and best of all, he can eat more gingerbread than any other one man in the army: he wants Wash Armstrong to send him a box of the article.
Since the accidental shooting of Lieutenant Moses Bidwell, by Adams, of the 17th Indiana, we have had another accident. Mr. Hopkins has had his collar-bone broken, and his shoulder-blade thrown completely out of place, by the falling of a tree.
We are having jovial times out here, rain or shine. A convocation of good fellows met at Captain Abbott's quarters, 3d Ohio. Captain Abbott is from Zanesville. Captain McDougal of Newark, Captain Dana of Athens, Captain Rossman of Hamilton, Lieutenants House and Swasey of Columbus, Lieutenants Bell and Dale of Newark, not forgetting Miles—the smiling, good-natured Miles—of the 17th Indiana, Quarter-master Shoemaker, Andy Hall, J. W. Slanker, W. B. Sheridan, and Self, all of the 6th Ohio, made up the party. The landlord filled his flowing bowl, and stories, songs, and recitations were the order of the evening, and the
"Glow-worm 'began' to show the matin to be near"
ere we started to separate.
Miles invited those who would, to go over to his palace, and promised us a sardine supper; accordingly, but few refused the invitation. Now, Miles had a jug of oil, just from the Thurston House, Paris, Bourbon County, Ky. This oil was put to good use; and soon a box of herring was opened, and the oil again distributed, and then some speeches were made.
The meeting was called to order by the fat Quarter-master, Shoemaker.
A motion was made that we adjourn and go to Cincinnati. This was voted down. Motions were continually made to take a drink. These were carried, every pop, by Sherry, your correspondent being the only one having the moral courage to vote in the negative.
Now, Miles is from Columbus; a jolly, good fellow, and, when the time for retiring arrived, proffered me his bed, provided I would notice him in my next letter. This I promised, and accepted his hospitality. The party dispersed, and Miles was soon in the arms of Morpheus; he had fallen asleep making an eloquent appeal to the chair. I had just got into a nice doze, when I was aroused by the sound of a voice.
"Gen'l'men, you're all my frens, every one of you. But, gen'l'men, I invite you, freely, to my sardines. You, 'specially, Ned Shoemaker; 'specially you, Andy Hall, and all of you.
"The country is a momentous question,"——
Here I ventured to inquire of him as to whom he was addressing his conversation?
"Why, my frens," replied he. "Isn't that Ned Shoemaker?" pointing to a barrel, upon the top of which was my hat; "and are not those my companions," pointing to a pile of cheese-boxes, herring-kegs, etc., that were strewn around.
He was much astonished when I assured him his friends had departed an hour since, at least.
DIDN'T KNOW OF THE REBELLION.
Going out with a party of scouts, one day, in Virginia, we espied, away up a little ravine, a log-house, completely isolated. Anticipating a good, substantial meal, we rode up to the domicile, where an old woman, with a face with all the intelligence of a pig beaming from it, came to the door, looking the very picture of consternation. We dismounted, and asked for something to eat.
"What! wittles?" exclaimed the horrible-looking creature. "Whar did you come from? And what be sogers doin' on here?"
"Well, I came from Indianapolis," said Captain Bracken, "and am after something to eat. Are there any Secesh in these parts?"
"Why, gracious, what's them?"
"Are you and your folks for the Union?"
"Why, sartain; thar's the old man neow."
Just at this moment there came a gaunt-eyed, slim-livered, carnivorous, yellow-skinned, mountain Virginian—no doubt belonging to one of the first families, as his name was Rhett.
"Look-a-hear," continued the old woman; "this ere soger wants to know if you be for Union?"
The old man looked, if any thing, more astonished than the old woman at the soldier. In the course of conversation we asked the man, "What he thought of the war?"
"What war?" exclaimed the old fellow; "the Revolution?"
"Yes. The rebellion, we call it."
"Ah! we gin the Britishers fits, didn't we?"
It was evident the man knew nothing of the rebellion going on.
When asked if he heard the fight, the other day, only six miles from his house, he opened his eyes widely, and said he "heard it 'thunderin'' mighty loud, but couldn't see no clouds, and didn't know what to make on it."
The fact was, these people live up in this place; raise what little will keep them from year to year; never read a paper, ('cause why, they can't); and they scarcely ever visit anybody.
There are many cases of this kind within a few miles of this place, where as much pent-up ignorance is displayed. If North Carolina is any worse, in Heaven's name send no more money to distant heathen, but attend to those at home.
GENERAL WILLIAM H. LYTLE,
Of whom our city has cause to be justly proud, has won for himself a name, engraven on the scroll of honor, as one of our country's heroes. A brief mention of his military career may be summed up as follows:
He was, during the Mexican campaign, on General Scott's line, and, although but a mere youth, he commanded an independent company of volunteer infantry, from Cincinnati, that was afterward attached to the 2d Ohio, on Scott's line, and commanded by Colonel William Irwin, of Lancaster, Ohio. They were stationed most of the time at the "Rio Frio," keeping open the line of communication between the cities of Puebla and Mexico. Brigadier-General Robert Mitchell, of Kansas, and Brigadier-General McGinnis, of Iowa, were captains in the same regiment. At the termination of that war General Lytle studied and entered into the practice of the law.
In 1857 he was elected Major-General of the First District of Ohio Volunteers. On the 19th of April, 1861, he was ordered by the Governor of Ohio to organize a camp for four regiments of infantry, and the day after receiving this order General Lytle took into Camp Harrison the 5th and 6th Ohio Infantry, and shortly after the 9th and 10th Ohio. The latter regiment tendered him the colonelcy, which was accepted; and he led it through the Virginia campaign, under McClellan and Rosecrans, up to the date of Carnifex Ferry, where he was wounded, September 10, 1861. Recovering from his wounds, he reported for duty in January, 1862, and was placed by General Buell in command of the Camp of Instruction at Bardstown, Ky., relieving General Wood. In March he was relieved, and reporting at Nashville, was placed in command of Dumont's brigade, Major-General O. M. Mitchel's division, at Murfreesboro, and made, with General Mitchel, the campaign in Northern Alabama, and conducted the evacuation of Huntsville, August 31, 1862, under orders from Major-General Buell. He commanded the Seventeenth Brigade up to the battle of Chaplin Hills, where he was again wounded, October 8, 1862. During the following winter he was promoted to Brigadier-General, dating from November 29, 1862, and reported for duty to the Army of the Cumberland in the spring of 1863, and was assigned to the command of the First Brigade, Third Division, of the Twentieth Army Corps.
A TRIBUTE TO THE TENTH OHIO.
When Colonel Mulligan was in Cincinnati, he and the noble William H. Lytle were invited to the dedication of the Catholic Institute. It was the 22d of November, 1861. Lytle had just recovered from his Carnifex Ferry wound. The Colonel was called upon for a speech. He said:
"When I go back and tell my men how, for their sakes, you have received me to-night, they will feel very proud. They often think of you, my fellow-citizens; and the brother, mother, wife, or sister, among you, in spirit visits the soldier as he rests in his chill tent at night.
"It does not become me to speak of my own regiment, for I know that he who putteth his armor on can not boast as he that puts it off. But, as it is distant, and can not hear my words, I may say this much: the Tenth has been ever true to the motto inscribed upon its flag—'God and the Union.'"
The Colonel paid a feeling tribute to John Fitzgibbons, the dead color-bearer of the Tenth, and hoped that the memory of his deeds, of Kavanagh, and others, who fell on the field in defense of their country, might inspire their countrymen to rise and avenge them.
Sweet Amy asked, with pleading eyes, "Dear Charley, teach me, will you, The words I've heard your captain say? I should so like to drill you!"
"What! little one, you take command! Well, Amy, I'm quite willing; In such a company as yours, I can't have too much drilling.
"Stand over, then, and sing out clear, Like this: 'Squad! stand at ease!'" "O, Charles! you'll wake papa, up stairs; Don't shout like that, love, please."
"Now, stand at ease, like this, you see! And then, I need scarce mention, The next command you have to give, Is this one: 'Squad! attention!'
"Now, Amy, smartly after me; (You're sure, dear, it won't bore you?) 'Forward, march! Halt! Front! Right dress!' There, now, I'm close before you.
"'Present arms!'" "Well, it does look odd." "You don't believe I'd trifle! We hold our arms out, just like this, In drill without the rifle.
"Now say, 'Salute your officer!'" "O, Charles! for shame! how can you? I thought you were at some such trick, You horrid, naughty man you."
Charles "ordered arms" without command; She smoothed her ruffled hair, And pouted, frowned, and blushed, and then Said softly, "As you were!"
A BLACK NIGHTINGALE'S SONG.
Shortly after our troops occupied one of the towns in Virginia, a squad occupying a tent near a dwelling heard delightful music. The unknown vocalist sang in such sweet, tremulous, thrilling notes, that the boys strained their ears to drink in every note uttered.
On the following day they made some excuse to visit the house, but no one was there. Once they observed a sylph-like form, but she was not the person; and so they lived on, each night hearing the same divine music.
One night, when they were gathered together, the voice was again heard. "By Jove!" said one, "I'm bound to find out who that is; she must be discovered." A dozen voices took up the remark, and a certain nervous youth was delegated to reconnoiter the place. He crept on tiptoe toward the dwelling, leaped the garden-wall, and finally, undiscovered, but pallid and remorseful, gained the casement. Softly raising his head, he peeped within. The room was full of music; he seemed to grow blind for a moment, when lo! upon the kitchen-table sat the mysterious songster, an ebony-hued negress, scouring the tinware, and singing away. Just as he was peering through the window, the ebony songster discovered him. The soldier's limbs sank beneath him, and the black specimen of humanity shouted:
"Go 'way dar, you soger-man, or I'll let fly de fryin' pan at your head! You musn't stan' dar peekin' at dis chile."
The soldier left, his romantic vision dispelled.
OUR HOOSIER BOYS.
Dedicated to the Brave Soldiers of Indiana.
From East to West your camp-fires blaze, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! On Vicksburg's hights our flag you raise, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! And on Virginia's trait'rous soil, In answer to your country's call, The echoes of your footsteps fall, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
While Southern suns upon you beat, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! You sternly march the foe to meet, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! Two winters, numbered with the past, Have o'er you swept with stormy blast, Since home's dear walls inclosed you last; Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
By Richmond's fields, baptized with blood, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! By precious dust 'neath Shiloh's sod, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! By every martyred hero's grave, By sacred rights they died to save. We'll cherish in our hearts the brave Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys!
While yet a vacant place is here, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! From hearts and homes will rise the prayer, Hoosier boys! our Hoosier boys! "God bless our gallant men and true, And let foul treason meet its due!" That faithful hearts may welcome you Home again, our Hoosier boys!
Old Stonnicker and Colonel Marrow, of 3d Ohio — General Garnett and his Dogs — "Are You the Col-o-nel of this Post?" — Profanity in the Army — High Price of Beans in Camp — A Little Game of "draw."
OLD STONNICKER AND COLONEL MARROW, OF 3d OHIO.
A Peculiar specimen of the "genus Virginia" had a great deal of trouble while our army was encamped at Elkwater. Stonnicker's fences and sugar-camp were used for fire-wood, corn-field for fodder, apple-trees stripped.
Stonnicker's family were sick. One of his oldest gals had the "soger's fever." He "guessed she must o' cotched it from either the 3d Ohio or 17th Ingeeana Regiment, as the officers kept a comin' there so much."
One day he sent for Colonel Marrow, and the Colonel obeying the summons, Stonnicker said:
"Colonel, one of my children is dead, and I haven't any thing to bury the child in."
The Colonel, a kind-hearted gentleman, had a neat coffin made; lent the old man horses and an ambulance, and attended personally to the burial, at which the old man took on "amazingly."
An hour or two after the funeral, old Stonnicker strolled up to the Colonel's quarters.
"Colonel," said he, as the tears rolled down his cheeks; "Colonel, what shall I do?"
The Colonel, thinking he was mourning over the loss of his lately-buried child, replied:
"O, bear up under such trials like a man."
"Wal, I know I orto; but, Colonel, can't you do something for me? It is too bad! I feel so miserable! Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"
"O, come, be a man," said the Colonel; "any thing I can do for you shall be done, willingly."
"O, Colonel! I knowed it; I knowed it. My old woman allers said you was a fust-rate feller; and, Colonel, ef you'll only pay me for them two stacks of hay your men took from my field, I shall be mighty glad, for I want the money."
It is needless to say that the Colonel's sympathies instantly ceased, and, turning on his heel, he might have been heard to say, "O, d——n you and your hay."
GENERAL GARNETT AND HIS DOGS.
It was said by the boys that at the battle in which General Garnett was killed, a favorite dog of his was with him on the field. During the three months following I saw not less than fifty dogs, each one said, positively, to be the identical dog belonging to the rebel general.
ARE YOU THE COL-O-NEL OF THIS POST?
I was seated one day in the telegraph office at Beverly. Prince was the telegrapher, and he was communicating with some female at Buckhannon, telling her to come over on the next train. While enjoying a lump of white sugar dissolved in hot water, sent by Uncle Peter Thomson, especially to cure my cold, a big, brawny Irishman entered the office, and, as I was rigged out in the Secession uniform of Captain Ezzard, of the Gate City Guards, Atlanta, Georgia, I was mistaken for a general by the said Irishman, who accosted me much after this style:
"Good mornin' to ye, sur. And how are yees dis mornin'?"
"Good morning, sir," said I.
"Sure, sir," said he; "are you the Col-o-nel of this post? for it was him I was towld to ax for—for a pass to get to see my wife, who lives five miles away from here, adjoining the white church, forninst the first woods to the right as you go to Huttonsville."
As soon as he finished his speech I informed him I was not the Col-o-nel, but that Colonel William Bosley was the gentleman he must see. I told him, moreover, that "the Colonel was a very cross man; very strict in his discipline: if he didn't approach him "just so," he would very likely refuse any pass, and kick him into the bargain."
"Thank you, sur; thank you, sur. O, but I'll approach him right. Never fear me!"
I pointed him to the marquee, in front of which was a large stake, or post, for hitching horses.
"There," said I, "you see; that's the post."
"Well, sur; plaise to tell me what I must do?"
"You must go three times round the post; make your bow; place your hands behind you; walk to the entrance of his tent, and inquire, 'If he commands that post?' Tell him you want to see your wife, and the pass, no doubt, will be given you."
The Irishman did as requested. Colonel Bosley said he knew there was a joke up, and humored it; and after putting all sorts of grotesque questions to the man, he was allowed to go on his way, rejoicing.
HIGH PRICE OF BEANS IN CAMP—A LITTLE GAME OF "DRAW."
Beans were excessively high, one season, in our army. I have seen Charley Brutton and Lieutenant Southgate and Captain Frank Ehrman, and other officers, pay as high as five cents apiece for them. Brutton said he intended to make bean-soup of his. Often, while I stood looking at parties around a table, I heard remarks like these:
"Ten beans better than you."
I suppose he meant that his ten beans were better than his opponent's ten beans. Then some one of the party, seated at the end of the table, would say:
"I SEE THEM TEN BEANS."
Well, so did I, and everybody else about there. We couldn't help but see them. Why, therefore, need he make so superfluous a remark? Then the other would say:
"I CALL YOU."
But I didn't hear him call. All he would do was, to lay his beans on the pile in the middle of the table, and soon they all spread out some pictures and dots that were printed on white pasteboard. Then one man reaches out his hand and draws over the beans to his side; and he smiles complacently, and all the others look beat and crabbed. And this they call a little game of draw.
Charley Clark and Captain Westcott say 'tis a bad practice; and they ought to know.
PROFANITY IN THE ARMY.
It is astonishing how rapidly men in the service become profane. I never before appreciated the oft-quoted phrase, "He swears like a trooper." Young men whom I have noticed, in times gone by, for their urbanity and quiet demeanor, now use language unbecoming gentlemen upon any occasion. But here it is overlooked, because "everybody does it;" but, to my mind,
"'Tis a custom more honored in the breach than the observance."
Gambling, too! O, how they take to it! "O, it's just for pastime," says one. Yes; but it is a pastime that will grow and grow, and drag many a one to ruin. Among the many ways that the boys have of evading the law against it in camp is, going off into the woods and taking a "quiet game," as they term it. Chuck-a-luck, sweat-cloth, and every species of device for swindling are resorted to by the baser sort.
Hard on the Sutler: Spiritualism Tried — A Specimen of Southern Poetry — Singular — March to Nashville — General Steadman Challenged by a Woman — Nigger Question — "Rebels Returning."
HARD ON THE SUTLER—SPIRITUALISM TRIED.
The officers of some regiments will drink—that is, they can be induced.
There was a sutler, a great devotee to the modern science—if science it can be called—of spiritualism. The officers found this out, and determined to play upon his credulity. The quarter-master was quite a wag, and lent himself to the proposed fun. His large tent was prepared: holes were made in it, and long black threads attached to various articles in the apartment, and one or two persons stationed to play upon these strings.
The party met as per agreement; every thing was arranged; the credulous sutler present. While enjoying the evening, the crowd were surprised to see things jumping around; a tumbler was jerked off a table, no one near it; clothing lifted up from the line running through the length of the tent. Some one suggested "spirits." All acknowledged the mystery, while some would, and others would not, accept the spiritual hypothesis as a correct solution. The matter must be tested, and the sutler was appointed chief interrogator.
"If," said he, "there are really spirits, why can they not prove it, by knocking this candlestick from my hand?"
"Why can't they?" echoed others.
And, sure enough, no sooner said than done, and done so quickly that no one but the performer was the wiser, whose knuckles, he said, pained him for a week afterward. Another of the party said to the spirit, "Fire a pistol."
Bang! was the reply.
The sutler became terrified. Again it was agreed that they should try questioning by the rapping process. The sutler proceeded:
"Are there any spirits present?"
Rap! rap! rap!
"Is it the spirit of a deceased relative?"
Rap! rap! rap!
"Whose relative is it? The Quarter-master's?"
Rap! rap! rap!
Here the sutler was requested to ask if there was anybody in the room who had committed any crime. The question was asked, and
Rap! rap! rap! was the reply.
"Is it the Quarter-master?"
"Is it the Colonel?"
"Is it the Adjutant?"
"Is it the Surgeon?"
"Is it m-m-e?"
Rap! rap! rap!
"O yes; I know it!" exclaimed the conscience-stricken sutler. (The first case of the kind I ever knew.) "O yes; I confess I was a Methodist class-leader, and now, here I am, drinking whisky, and selling it, and getting three prices from the boys for every thing I sell. O! I'll go and pray!" And he accordingly departed. The sutler reported, in the morning, that he had prayed, and felt much relieved. It so wrought upon his mind that the joke had to be explained to him, to prevent his being driven to distraction.
A SPECIMEN OF SOUTHERN POETRY.
From the appended exquisite gem of "Southern poetry," it will be seen that they wish to raise the black flag. Well, why don't they raise it? Let us hope that for every black flag they raise, Uncle Abraham will raise a black regiment. It is from the Chattanooga Rebel, and is entitled
THE BLACK FLAG.
Raise now the sable flag! high let it wave O'er all Secessia's hills and flowery vales, And on its sable folds the motto trace, "For victory or death!" The hated foe Have gathered in our lovely land, and trod, With desecrating steps, our State's proud Capital. They've pillaged in our cities, burned our homes, Exiled our stanch, true-hearted patriots, Arrested loyal citizens, and sent Them to those hungry bastiles of the North, The ignominious "Chase" and "Johnson's Isle." Our clergy—God's anointed—who refused To take a black, obnoxious oath, to perjure Their own souls, they placed in "durance vile." The noble daughters of the "sunny South," Whose hearts were with their country's cause, they forced To yield obedience to their hated laws, Nor heeded cries of pity; whether from Matron staid, beseeching them to leave her, For her little ones, her own meat and bread; Or from the bright-eyed boy, with manly grace, Who brooks, with sorrowing looks, the insults she Is forced to bear, and dares not to resent; Or from the gray-haired sire, whose cord of life Is nearly loosed, who, in enfeebled tones, Prays them to cease their vexing raids, and let An old man die in peace. Nor will they list To maiden fair, whose virtue is their goal. They've desolated every home where once Abundance bloomed, and with the weapons of A warrior (?)—fire and theft—have laid our homes In ashes, plundered their effects, and sworn Th' extermination of Secessia's sons. Then raise the ebon flag! with Spring's warm breath Let it unfurl its night-like folds, and wave Where noble "Freeman" fills a martyr's grave. Then strike! but not for booty, soldiers brave; Fight to defend your liberties and homes— The joy it gives to see the Vandals fall, And catch the music of their dying groans. Go! burn their cities, scourge their fertile lands; Teach them retaliation; plow their fields, And slay by thousands with your iron hail; Scorn every treaty, every Yankee clan. Defy with Spartan courage. Vengeance stamp Upon your bayonets; and let the hills and Vales resound with Blood—your battle-cry.
Civilians are often puzzled, in reading reports of battles, to understand how it is that a thousand troops in a body can "stand the galling fire of the enemy" for an hour or more, and come out with but two or three killed and half a dozen wounded; or how they can "mow down the enemy at every shot" for a long time, and yet not kill over a dozen or so of them. Every thing that is done now-a-days is a complete "rout;" all the enemy's camp equipage, guns, ammunition, etc., are taken. Will somebody wiser than I am please explain?
THE MODERN TROUBADOUR.
A Camp Song.
Gaily the bully boy smoked his cigar, As he was hastening off for the war; Singing—"To Secesh land, thither I go: Rebuels! rebuels! fight all you know!"
'Lize for the bully boy gave nary weep, Knowing full well he'd his promise keep, And make her his little wife; so this was her song— "Bully boy! bully boy! come right along!"
In Camp, Near Tennessee Line, October 7, 1862.
At five o'clock this morning struck tents at camp, a few miles this side of Bowling Green, and were on the march for "any place where ordered." I am thus indefinite, because the publication of the "ultimate destination" is contraband news. Yesterday we were encamped in a wildly picturesque part of Kentucky—intensely rocky—abounding in caverns and subterranean streams; to-day we marched through what has been a delightful country, beautifully rolling land, and highly-cultivated farms; but now, what a sad picture is presented! Scarce a fence standing; no evidences of industry; all is desolation, and the demon of devastation seems to have stalked through the entire State with unchecked speed—houses burned, roads neglected, farms destroyed, in fact, nothing but desolation staring you in the face, turn which way you will.
Early this morning the road was very dusty, but by nine o'clock we had a splendid representation of "Bonaparte crossing the Alps," minus the Alps, and nothing but active marching kept the boys from feeling the extra keenness of old Winter's breath. Still, the boys trudged merrily on, feeling confident the present march is not to be fruitless in its results, as preceding ones have been. This campaign now presents an active appearance, every thing indicating a head to conceive and the will to do.
At three o'clock to-day we passed through the neat-looking town of Franklin. It looks very new, most of the houses being substantial bricks. Here we met General Fry, the man who slewed Zollicoffer. The General is of plain, unostentatious appearance, a keen eye, lips compressed, the whole countenance denoting determination and quickness of perception.
GENERAL STEADMAN CHALLENGED BY A WOMAN.
Riding along to-day with General Steadman, who, in his province as commander of this brigade, had called at the dwellings on the road-side, to see about the sick soldiers left in the houses, the General knocked at a door, and a voice within yelled "Come in." Obeying the injunction, he opened the door, and inquired how many men were there, and, also, if they had the requisite attention shown them. After a few minutes' talk with the soldiers, General Steadman entered into conversation with Mr. Reynolds, the owner of the property, who, among other things, asked the General when he thought the war would end; to which the General replied:
"Not till the rebels lay down their arms, or the Secessionists get perfectly tired of having their country devastated."
This reply brought in a third party—old Mrs. Reynolds, a regular spitfire, a she-Secessionist of the most rabid, cantankerous species—a tiger-cat in petticoats. This she specimen of the "Spirit of the South," of the demon of desolation, had bottled up her venom during the conversation of her son, but could hold in no longer; her vial of wrath "busted," the cork flew out, and the way she came at the General was a caution to the wayfarers over this road, at any rate.
"O, yes! and that's all you nasty Yankees come here for, is, to destroy our property, invade our sile, deserlatin' our homes. This 'ere whole war is nothing but a Yankee speculation, gotten up by the North, so that they can steal niggers and drive us from our homes."
"Well, madam, as it is not my province to quarrel with a woman, I shall not talk to you. You get excited, and don't know what you're talking about."
"O! but I'll talk to you as much as I please. You're all a sneaking set of thieves. You can just take yourself out of my house, you dirty pup. You're drunk."
The General very placidly listened to the old termagant, and merely remarked, "It was too cold to go out of the house just then; he guessed he'd warm himself first."
"Get out, quick," said she, opening the door. "I'll let you know I'm a Harney. Yes, I'm a grand-daughter of General Harney, of Revolutionary fame."
"Well, madam, I have before told you I don't want to quarrel with a woman, but if you have any of the male Harneys about the house, who will give me the tenth part of the insolence that I have listened to from the lips of 'one old enough to know better,' I will soon show him of what mettle I'm made."
"Jeemes, give me your six-shooter," fairly shrieked the old woman; "I'll soon show him. I'll fight you at ten paces, sir!"
The General laughed at her last remark; seeing which, she became perfectly furious. Her sons and daughters begged her to desist from such talk; but the more they cried "Don't," the less she "don'ted."
The family, by this time, had been made aware that it was a real General at whom this insolence of tongue was being hurled, and the tribulation of the son was great. The General, after thoroughly warming himself, quietly walked out with his staff. The son followed to the door, making all sorts of apologies for his mother—that she had been sick, was peevish, and, at times, out of her head. I suggested to him, that I didn't think she would be so apt to go out of her head if John Morgan had come along, instead of a Union man.
Lucky for that house and its inmates that the 9th Ohio, or any of General Steadman's command, were not apprised of the proceedings. The General, in the kindness of his heart, and for the sake of the soldiers quartered there, placed a guard around her house, to prevent her being troubled in the least while the regiments were passing.
Going into Battle — Letter to the Secesh — General Garfield, Major-General Rosecrans's Chief of Staff — General Lew Wallace — The Siege of Cincinnati — Parson Brownlow — Colonel Charles Anderson.
GOING INTO BATTLE.
Many wonder if men wear their coats and knapsacks, and carry blankets, when going into battle. That depends upon circumstances. Sometimes, when marching, they find themselves in battle when they least expect it. Upon such occasions, soldiers drop every thing that is likely to incommode them, and trust to luck for the future.
Many wonder if regiments fire regularly, in volleys, or whether each man loads and fires as fast as he can. That, also, depends upon circumstances. Except when the enemy is near, the regiments fire only at the command of their officers.
You hear a drop, drop, drop, as a few of the skirmishers fire, followed by a rattle and a roll, which sounds like the falling of a building, just as you may have heard the brick walls at a fire.
Sometimes, when a body of the enemy's cavalry are sweeping down upon a regiment to cut it to pieces, the men form in a square, with the officers and musicians in the center. The front rank stand with bayonets charged, while the second rank fires as fast as it can. Sometimes they form in four ranks deep—the two front ones kneeling, with their bayonets charged, so that, if the enemy should come upon them, they would run against a picket-fence of bayonets. When they form this way, the other two ranks load and fire as fast as they can. Then the roar is terrific, and many a horse and rider go down before the terrible storm of leaden hail.
LETTER TO THE SECESH.
My Dear Rebs: Having just learned that Vicksburg has gone up—Port Hudson caved—Jackson surrendered—Bragg unwell—I thought I would ask you a few questions, for instance:
How are you, any how?
How does "dying in the last ditch" agree with your general health?
How is the Constitution down your way?
Do you think there is any Government?
How is King Kotting?
Is Yancey well and able to hold his oats?
Has Buckner taken Louisville yet?
I understand Tilghman has quit hanging Union men.
Is Floyd still rifling cannon, and other small arms?
How is the Southern heart?
Are you still able to whip five to one?
What is your opinion of the Dutch race?
When will England and France recognize you?
What have you done with the provisional government of Kentucky?
Where is the Louisville-Bowling-Green-Nashville-Atlanta Courier published now? Say—
What do you think of yourselves any how?
A prompt answer will relieve many anxious hearts.
Yours, in a horn,
A Lincoln Man.
GENERAL GARFIELD, MAJOR-GENERAL ROSECRANS'S CHIEF OF STAFF.
The rather brilliant career of the General is worthy of a more extended notice than I have room for.
General Garfield was born in Cuyahoga County, Ohio, in 1831. It is said that, in his early love of freedom, he formed a strong attachment for horses, and, to gratify this feeling, he ran away from home and became a driver on the canal. Possessing remarkable endurance, and great strength, with no small amount of combative spirit, he soon became a "shoulder-hitter," whipping all opponents who were any way near his own age, and becoming a terror to the quarrelsome rowdies who had previously ruled the ditch.
During the hight of his wild career he attended a revival meeting, became converted, found new and wealthy friends, who supplied him with funds to attend college, and, in 1856, he graduated at William's College, Massachusetts, with the highest honors.
Returning to Ohio, he at once settled as a clergyman and president of the college at Hiram, Portage County. He here became very popular as an eloquent divine, as a lecturer before lyceums, and as a profound scholar. The success of his school was without a precedent. Two years ago he was elected, by an immense majority, as a member of the State Senate. At the first call for troops, he at once entered the field, and rallied round him some of the ablest boys to be found in the State.
General Garfield is what would be called, by ladies, a really handsome man; has large, blue eyes, an expressive mouth, the outlines of which denote good nature. It was prophesied at once, after his enlistment, that, "Let Rev. Mr. Garfield have a chance at the rebels, and he would die in the field, or win a victory." He has, at all times, so far, been on the winning side.
Humphrey Marshall—the barn-door of the Southern Confederacy—it is said, once beat General Garfield, during the early Kentucky campaign. Marshall was in a trap, and, wanting a little time, called upon Garfield with a white flag, who was commanding a brigade, and asked—
"Is there no way to settle this without fighting?"
"No, sir," said Garfield, "none but to fight—somebody has got to get hurt."
But Marshall didn't see it in that light—retired to consult—and, in the mean time, beat a hasty retreat, and thus beat Garfield.
GENERAL LEW WALLACE.
General Lew Wallace was formerly colonel of the 11th Indiana (three-months men,) known as Zouaves, who were noted for their daring bravery and dash. When the regiment returned to Indiana to be reorganized for the war, General Wallace remained quiet a few days, when the trouble in Missouri aroused his energies, and he issued a spirited call to his fellow-citizens, which was responded to with the greatest enthusiasm. They flocked to his standard, and were sent to the Department of Missouri, and thence to Paducah, after which he was promoted to a generalship in the division of General C. F. Smith.
General Wallace made himself a legion of friends in his able management of affairs during the memorable siege of Cincinnati by the rebels. At a public meeting in Columbus, Ohio, a Flagg was raised, and the following war poem recited:
THE SIEGE OF CINCINNATI.
Who saved our city, when the foe Swore in his wrath to lay it low, And turned to joy our tears of woe? Lew Wallace.
Who taught us how to cock the gun, And aim it straight, and never run, And made us heroes, every one? Lew Wallace.
And told us how to face and wheel, Or charge ahead with pointed steel, While cannon thundered, peal on peal? Lew Wallace.
Who, when all in bed did sleep, About us watch and ward did keep, Like watch-dog round a flock of sheep? Lew Wallace.
Who made us all, at his commands, With fainting hearts and blistering hands, Dig in the trench with contrabands? Lew Wallace.
Who would have led us, warriors plucky, To bloody fields far in Kentucky? But Wright said, No!—and that was lucky? Lew Wallace.
Who sat his prancing steed astraddle, Upon a silver-mounted saddle, And saw the enemy skedaddle? Lew Wallace.
And who, "wha hae wi' Wallace" fed, On pork and beans and army bread, Will e'er forget, when he is dead, Lew Wallace?
The Knoxville Register thus laments the release of the Parson from the prison of that city:
"In brief, Brownlow has preached at every church and school-house, made stump-speeches at every crossroad, and knows every man, woman, and child, and their fathers and grandfathers before them, in East Tennessee. As a Methodist circuit-preacher, a political stump-speaker, a temperance orator, and the editor of a newspaper, he has been equally successful in our division of the State. Let him but once reach the confines of Kentucky, with his knowledge of the geography and the population of East Tennessee, and our section will soon feel the effect of his hard blows. From among his own old partisan and religious sectarian parasites he will find men who will obey him with the fanatical alacrity of those who followed Peter the Hermit in the first Crusade. We repeat again, let us not underrate Brownlow."