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

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

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

The first clash was a butter and a rebutter, their heads coming together, fairly making the wool fly. This was round first.

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

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

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

Ball in Camp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anecdote of the 63d Ohio and Colonel Sprague.

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

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

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

The Soldier's Dream of Home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My heart was full of tears, Willie,
But I kept them from my eyes,
And the answer that I made him
Opened his with sad surprise—?
"Suppose he should never come, Willie!"
"But, mamma, I know he will,
For I pray to Jesus every night
To spare my father still."

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

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

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

A. L. Y.[Back to Contents]

CHAPTER XI.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beauties of the Peculiar Institution—A Few Well-substantiated Facts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.[Back to Contents]

CHAPTER XII.

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."[Back to Contents]

CHAPTER XIII.

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.

Yours, Alf.

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.