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This BOOK may be kept out TWO WELKS 
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Entered accordins to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, 


In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Unite(i States for the 

Southern District of New York. 






''TnE cause is a noble and a just one, my son, and if you bav^o 
decided you must go, I will no longer oppose you." 

Tbus spoke Mr. R. to bis eldest son Cbarles, a youtb of nineteen 
years of age, as tbe two stood in consultation beneatli a large elin- 
tree in front of tbeir dwelling, in Jeflferson county, Kentucky, near 
tbe city of Louisville. 

Cbarles R. was tbe eldest of a family of six cbildren — four boys 
and two girls. Charles, or '• Cbarley," as be was familiarly called 
by bis family and friends, was a fine exponent of true Kentucky 
character; — noble, impulsive, brave; quick to perceive the right, 
ready to defend it. 

When, on tbe 15tb of April, 1861, tbe dread voice of war echoed 
and re-echoed throughout the land, rousing the millions from their 
peaceful pursuits into the wildest fury, fired with patriotic ardor, 
Charley besought his father to allow him to seize bis gun and 
rush to the defence of the South. The father objected. Ills child 
was young, be was his eldest boy and greatly beloved ; and, more- 
over, amid tbe rapid rush of dread events, which had so convulsed 
the nation, Mr. R., influenced by his life-long love for the old 
Union, bad not been able to decide satisfactorily to bis own mind 
where the right rested. 



But the fearful unfoldings of the war policy of the administra- 
tion which took place between the date of Lincoln's "War Proc- 
lamation" and the time of which we write, had fully decided hiiu 
in fiwor of the South; and although a man distinguished for his 
reticence and aversion to all unnecessary political discussions, he 
boldly avowed his position, and defended it by clear and logical 
argument, whenever it was attacked. And his opposition to his 
son's enlisting under the Southern banner was dictated by his 
attachment to him, and not inditference to the cause. 

On the morning of the day of which we speak, Charley (as we 
shall continue to call him throughout this narrative) had gone into 
the city, as was his daily custom, to learn tlie news and procure 
the morning paper for the family. Passing along Green-street, 
in the vicinity of the Custom-house, he met young Fox, an old 
friend of his, whom he had known for years. 

" Why, I thought you were in Dixie Land, Amos," exclaimed 
Charley, in surprise, as the two encountered each other. 

"Silence, Charley, do not betray me," whispered the young 
man, as he slipped his young friend's arm through his and turned 
into Third-street towards Broadway. The two walked quickly 
along, avoiding observation, until they reached the Commons out- 
side the city. Then seating themselves on the grass at the root 
of an old beech-tree, which stood removed some paces from the 
public road, the two engaged in conversation. 

'"Charley," said his friend to him, "I know you have from the 
beginning of this war been anxious to go South, Buckner is now 
in Kentucky, as you know, and every Southern man who can 
bear arms ought to join him. I have spoken to a great many of 
our acquaintances, and there is a number of young men now ready 
and only waiting for an opportunity to get through." 

"And this is all that deters me," responded Charley, his whole 
countenance expressive of the strong emotion that fired his breast. 
" I have been thinking over the matter for days, and once or twice 
I have spoken to father about it. You know he has always ob- 
jected to my going, because he thinks I am too young; but his 
opposition seems to be yielding. And I know, when he sees I am 
determined to go, he will consent. I shall make every thing 
ready, and the first opening that presents itself, I will go. But 
tell me, Amos, how did you get back, and what are they doing 
down at Bowling Green ? We have had so many rumors here, 
no one knows what to believe." 

"I came on the cars to Elizabethtown. Being detained there 


a few days, I was caught by the blockade of the raih-oad, aud had 
to take a bugfry to come to the city." 

"But toll me, Amo.-s, why did not General Buckner and his 
troops come to Louisville? Last week everybody expected nim. 
Ladies kept themselves and children dressed and in readiness to 
h-ave at a moment's notice. Union men sent their money and 
silver-ware to Jetfersonville. Old Prentice, it is said, had all the 
valuables of his printinjj^-ollice moved over the river, and he himself 
went over every night that he might be safe from Buckner and 
his men. The whole place was one scene of wild excitement, 
everybody appearing to have taken leave of their wits." 

"General Buckner would have taken possession of Muld rough's 
Hill, most assuredly, had it not been for an untoward accident on 
the railroad. I do not know whether he ever designed moving 
on Louisville." 

**And what was this accident? Do tell me all you know, 
Amos, with regard to the Confederates coming into Kentucky. 
We know nothing here." 

"You must promise me secrecy, Charley. I do not know how 
long I may have to stay here. And should my name be known 
as connected with their movements, I would certainly be ar- 

"Trust me, Amos, I will keep every thing most masonically," 
responded Charley, drawing closer to the side of his friend. 

'* I must begin back, in order fully to explain the whole matter 
to you satisfactorily." 

" Do so. I wish to know every incident." 

"But wait a moment. Yonder is John Lawrence crossing the 
Common. Our old friend John, you remember him. He has 
just returned from Yale, completely disgusted with the Yankees 
and every thing pertaining to them, and is longing to get South. 
Let me call him." 

'^ We can trust him?" 

" Oh, yes, thoroughly with us, and as true as steel." 

Charley rose, and advancing a few paces from the tree, beckoned 
to the young man who was leisurely pursuing his way from the 
high-road across the open grass-plot that intervened between it 
aud the woodland to the letl. His attention was arrested, and 
with quick step he advanced to the spot where Charley stood. 
The two approached the tree. Young Fox stepped forward and 
grasped the hand o( his old frienid, shaking it most cordially. 

'' I have not seen you for a long time, John," said he, as he con- 


tinued to hold bis hand. " You have been living with the Yan- 
kees for the last two or three years. IIow do you like them V 

"Plague take them. Don't talk to me about liking Yankees, 
Am^s; I detest the whole narrow-minded, nigger-loving, thieving 
race. And if I could have my wish, I would send a bullet through 
the last one of them before sundown." 

" You are ready to shoulder your gun against them then, are you ?" 

" Yes, at any moment. But tell me, how is it you are here? I 
made inquiry for you only a few days back, and your brother told 
me you were South. How did you get through, and what are 
they all doing down there ? General Buckner is at Bow^ling Green 
we knoAv, and the boys are having a glorious time, we hear, but 
further than this we can learn nothing." 

"Amos will tell us all about it, John. He was just about to 
begin, when I discovered you passing across the common, and I 
begged of him to allow me to call you. I knew you would be so 
gratified to hear of Buckner's move into Kentucky, and his occu- 
pation of Bowling Green." 

The three seated themselves. Removed as they were from the 
road, there was no probability of intrusion or interruption. 

" All I tell you, boys, is to be kept secret. Ou^ enemies must 
not be made aware of our most trivial movements. It is necessary 
to deceive them, for I tell you, boys, we have a great deal to do 
before we are ready to give them fight." 

The two readily acceded to his proposition, and the young man 
commenced his narrative. 

" On the IVth of this month. General Buckner, then at Camp 
Boone, dispatched Dick Wintersmith to Elizabethtown to seize all 
the cars and locomotives that were concentrated at that point. He 
had previously written in cipher to Colonels Hardin Helm and 
Reed, who resided in that town, to hold themselves in readiness 
to assist in such a movement, which would take place in a few 
days, as it was necessary they should have rolling-stock to trans- 
port their troops rapidly into the State. Wintersmith proceeded 
in haste to Russellville, from which point he telegraphed Helm, 
' All right. I will be up on next train.' 

"From Russellville he went to Bowling Green, where he made 

known the secret of his expedition to Dr. , a true Southern 

man, with whom he left the business of guarding the bridge over 
Barren river, which was to be done in such a manner as to avoid 
all suspicion. It was necessary to use every precaution, for had 
the Home Guard or Union men for a moment supposed what wa.^ 


on liand, tlioy would have torn up the tracks, or destroyed bridges, 
thereby frustrating the whole project. 

" Having made every arrangement for safety and success at this 
point that his limited time would permit, Wintersmith came on to 
Cave City. 

" Here, as you are aware, the trains pass each other. As the train 
bound for Bowling Green came up beside the up-train, Blanton 
Duncan, who you know is an excitable man, rushed to the plat- 
form and called out to know if Mitchell La Beet was on board,' 
stating in a hurried nervous manner that twenty policemen from 
Louisville were in waiting at Eiizabethtown to arrest him as soon 
as he should reach there. This, of course, w^as alarming intelli- 
gence to Major Wintersmith, who felt for a moment foiled in his 
undertaking. But being self-possessed, and of a brave, daring 
nature, and fully realizing the importance of the work intrusted 
to him, he in a moment decided to call in the counsel and aid of 
several gentlemen on board the cars, who he well knew were 
Southern, and would dare any thing to serve their cause. Th« 
few minutes allowed him to execute his purpose were actively 
employed in providing for guarding the road at all points where it 
was feared rails might be removed or bridges burned. 

" TVith two or three friends on whom he could depend in any 
exigency, he pursued his way to Eiizabethtown, no't knowing but 
that he would be seized as soon as he should reach the depot, yet 
determined to risk his life in the accomplishment of his trust. 
Reaching Eiizabethtown, and ascertaining that there was no such 
police force there, as Colonel Duncan had mentioned, his first 
inquiry was for Colonel Helm. To his bitter disappointment and 
deep chagrin he learned that that personage had left the town and 
eet out with bis family on the morning train for Nashville. 

''At the depot he met Colonel Reed, who, with others, bad 
come down to meet him. 

" ' And Helm is gone !' was his exclamation, as he seized Reed's 

" ' Yes,' was the response. 

" ' And what is our prospect ? No Union force here, I suppose?' 
he asked, hurriedly, of his friend. 

" ' None.' 

"'Well, then,' added Wintersmith, 'we shall accomplish the 
work. Are you armed, Reed? What we do must be done 
quickly. Not a moment to lose. And we must proceed quietly, 
also. Any alarm will ruin us.' 



" Major Wintersmith, accompanied by his telegraph operator, 
Tvboin he had brought with him from Nashville, and followed by 
young La Rue, a nephew of John L. Helm, rushed, without a 
moment's delay, up stairs into the telegraph office, which was 
situated at the depot. The operator, scared out of his propriety by 
this sudden appearance in his room of two armed men, and awed 
by their stern words and determined manner, made but little 
opposition, and with a few reraonstrative remarks yielded up his 
position to the young man who came with Major Wintersmith. 

" 'Dispatch to Louisville,' commanded the major, ' that the cars 
are off the track. Nobody hurt. Will be in late this afternoon.' 

"The order was obeyed. The Yankee operator placed under 
gnard, and the major, with the assistance of Colonel Reed, young 
La Rue, and others who readily joined his standard as soon as hi>* 
object was known, proceeded, with all possible energy, to seize all 
the locomotives and cars found in the place. One engineer 
positively refused to yield. 

" ' We do not wish to hurt you, sir,' said Major Wintersmith to 
him in a tone which bespoke the decision of his heart, 'but we 
must have your locomotive and train, and it is useless for you to 
resist. We are armed, and determined to perform the work 
assigned us by our authorities.' 

"'Well, gentlemen,' replied the engineer, who was convinced 
of the propriety of acquiescence, 'I yield only to force, and I wish 
this distinctly understood.' 

"'Oh, certainly, sir,' replied the major, 'we compel you.' 

" ' Will you give me a certificate to this effect ?' 
'Assuredly, sir.' 

"The certificate was written, and the engineer withdrew, 
leaving Major Wintersmith and his friends in possession of the 

" This was a most valuable acquisition — the locomotive being the 
finest on the road ; and moreover the cars were laden with such 
provisions as the Confederate troops most needed." 

"Bravo, bravo!" shouted the two hsteners, wild with the 
enthusiasm with which the major's success had inspired them. 
*• Three cheers for Wintersmith and Reed!" 

"And I do hope," added young Lawrence, " that the Confeder- 
ates may get every pound of the vast stores that for weeks have 
been accumulating at Elizabethtown. Father has a large quantity 
of bacon and flour there, and, in his name, I bid Buckner and his 
brave followers a hearty welcome to it all. Three times three for 


the South !" he vociferated, as he took off his cap and waived it 
energetically in the air. "May she triumph on every battle-field, 
and whip the Yankees to death in every engagement. But resume 
your narrative, Fox," 

*' As soon asM.'ijor "Wintersmith had obtained full possession of 
all the rolling-stock, and so guarded it as to secure it against any 
attempt at recapture, he sent a locomotive and tender, with about 
twenty armed men, led by Colonel Reed and La Rue, towards the 
Junction, for the puri)ose of capturing the train from Lebanon to 
Louisville, and also the evening train from Louisville to Bowling 
Green. This undertaking was eminently successful in getting 
possession of both trains, but, unfortunately for the sortie, some 
wretch escaped from the train while it stood at the Junction, and 
ran about half a mile in advance, and tore up the rails; and when 
the train came dashing along at full speed, a few minutes after- 
wards, the front passenger car was thrown off the track, and 
precipitated some thirty or forty feet down a precipice. The next 
car, strange to say, was detached and fell directly across the road. 

'•' This, as you may well imagine, was a fearful situation for the 
expeditionists. Some two or three locomotives, together with a 
freight and construction train were behind the fallen car. This 
must be removed and the road repaired before there was any 
possibility of advancing towards their destination. They were 
momentarily expecting an attack from the Home Guard of that 
region, who, they had been informed, were assembling to capture 
them. And, to add to their troubles, night was rapidly approach- 
ing and the rain began to fall heavily. 

"But nothing daunted, the boys, led by Colonel Reed, threw 
oflf their coats and set about removing the car that blocked up the 
road. It was an arduous undertaking. They worked with right 
good-will, using fence-rails and whatever they could make available 
to expedite their work. The passengers, of whom none were 
killed, and only one man severely bruised, lent their assistance. 
They were mostly Southern men, and those who professed Union- 
ism were not so tenacious of their avowed principles as to prevent 
their participating in the novel and exciting work. But the task 
was a gigantic one, and it was near the morning before the car 
was hurled over the precipice to take position with its predecessor. 
This being at last done, it was the work of but a few minutes to 
replace the rails, bring back the locomotive, which had strangely 
leaped the gap and landed safely on the other side, attach it to 
the train, and drive at full speed to Elizabethtown. 


"Meanwhile Major Wintersmith had placed the town under 
martial law, sent out pickets and videttes, dispatched messengers 
to Bardstown and other points to collect together some companies 
which were in a state of partial organization, and bring them in, 
and made all necessary preparation to return to Bowling Green, 
where he was to meet General Buckner and the troops from Camps 
Boone and Trousdale." 

''And what was the sum total of the expedition, Fox?" asked 
Charley. "■ The major and his friends must have gotten a rich 

'* They took eight good locomotives; among the number that 
superior one I mentioned, which is by far the best in the West, 
about two hundred cars, fifty of these being construction cars, 
which are so much needed at Bowling Green, an immense amount 
of provisions of all kinds, which will be most acceptable to Bnck- 
ner's army, and all this without the loss of one life." 

''Capital!" exclaimed young Lawrence, springing to his feet, 
and again tossing up his cap with cheers for Wintersmith and the 
Confederacy. " I heartily wish, boys, that they would come and 
take Louisville as easily." 

" But tell us, Fox, why did not General Buckner come to Louis- 
ville ?" 

'•'• I am not sure that he designed the occupation of our city. He 
wished, however, to possess Muldrough's Hill, and the day after 
he reached Bowling Green, he sent forward the Second Kentucky, 
Hanson's regiment, for this purpose. But, unfortunately, some 
vile Unionists had torn up the road, and the cars containing the 
men were precipitated from the track." 

"Anybody hurt?" interrupted Charley. 

'•Not a man. It was really providential that no life was lost. 
Before the road could be prepared, Rousseau had advanced, and 
thus General Buckner's designs were wholly frustrated." 

"How unfortunate!" exclaimed Charley. "This city would 
have been an easy prey, and General Buckner and his men would 
have been hailed as deliverers, benefactors, by a large portion of 
the citizens. Now, I fear, it is too late — too late. These hordes 
of blue-coated Abolitionists that daily pass through the streets, 
must necessarily impede his progress : I fear may prevent it 

" And this is why General Buckner did not come to Louisville," 
remarked Lawrence. " We could not tell why it was, but this 
explains it all. Rumor gave a thousand reasons, but you know 


nothing can be credited in these days of falsehood and exaggera- 

"Do you think, Fox, that Buckner will come soon?" asked 
Charley thoughtfully. 

" No't soon." 

'^And why?" 

'' Because of his want of men. He has but a small force, much 
j-'ss than persons suppose; but he is determined to remain in his 
present position. As to whether he will advance, that will depend 
entirely upon the reinforcements he shall receive and the force 
sent against him." 

"If he cannot come to us, John, we will go to Iiim. "We should 
not remain idle here while our cause is suffering for men to defend 
it. What say you, John, shall we not hazard every thing to reach 

" Yes, Charley, I shall go home and make arrangements to leave 
at the very earliest opportunity. When do you go back, Fox ?" 

" I leave to-night," 

" Could you not delay a few days in order to give Charley and 
me time to get ready ?" 

" I am under promise, and have made all my arrangements to set 
out at ten to-night, otherwise I would wait for you with pleasure. 
But you will find opportunities for getting through. Young men 
are constantly leaving this portion of the State to join Buckner. 
There is a camp near Bloomfield, where whole companies have 
several times rendezvoused and gone through. Your safest way 
would be to go there. But list, what does that music mean?" 

" Another abolition regiment wending its way to the Nashville 
depot, no doubt," replied young Lawrence. "My blood grows 
hot as I think of their polluted feet desecrating the streets of our 
city. It is hard to bear the sight, boys. And yet, where is the 
remedy ?" 

" It can be found only in throwing ourselves against them, John, 
and driving them back to their own homes. We are subjugated 
unless we can conquer." 

" True, true ; there is no other hope. And I for one will risk 
my life for freedom." 

The three arose and walked towards the city. At the corner 
of Broadway and Third-street they separated, each to enter upon 
active preparations for joining the army at Bowling Green. 

An hour afterwards, Charley and John encountered each other 
in front of the Gait House. 


''I shall leave to-morrow night, Lawrence. I have just seen 
young Ashmore, who tells me that my only hope is to g(j through 
Bloorafield', as suggested by Fox. He sets out to-night." 

" I will go with you, Charley." 

" Meet me, then, to-morrow night, at the first toll-gate on the 
Bardstown pike. 1 shall be in the city again to-morrow, but for 
fear I may not see you, I now will make this agreement." 

♦^ Very well." 

Charley made some necessary purchases, and without delay 
drove homeward. 




As Charley reached the stile, he saw his father approaching the 
house through the lawn. Securing the horse, he hastened to meet 
hiui and unfold to hiiu his purpose. The father was not surprised. 
For weeks he had observed the restless, thoughtful manner of his 
son, and had divined tfie cause. It had given him much anxious 
thought and many a heart- pang, for he was conscious the time 
was fast approaching when a final decision must be had. He 
could not forbid his son's going, yet he felt very averse at his im- 
mature age to yield him to the chances of a war which he already 
foresaw must be sanguinary and protracted. 

Therefore, when Charley broke his intentions to him, he en- 
deavored with all a father's yearning tenderness to dissuade him 
from his purpose. 

Charley listened to his father's arguments, but remained uncon- 

"I must go, father, and go now. It will not do for me to delay 
longer," he replied, with fixed determination, to his father's ob- 
jections. " To remain at home while the Southern cause is calling 
aloud for aid, would be- disgrace, infamy. You yourself, father, 
could not respect me, if I should hesitate, now that our own Ken- 
tucky is invaded by the dastard abolition foe." 

His face was flushed — his voice trembled with the depth of his 
emotion — his dark hazel eye glowed with patriotic fire. 

The father gazed upon his son — the opposition yielded. The 
noble ardor of his boy had conquered him. 

The two passed into the house. The family were made ac- 
quainted with the young man's resolve. Witheringly tlie intelli- 
gence fell on the fond mother's heart. Like the fiery shaft that 
suddenly darts from the surcliarged cloud, spreading death and 
desolation over the beautiful and glowing landscape, so came this 
terrible blow to sweep away in darkness and sadness every hope, 
every joy. She bowed her head in silence. No word escaped 
her lips, as she sat gazing on the smouldering embers in the grate. 


How could she give her boy, her eldest-born, her well -beloved 
son to the horrid fate of war? Her heart stood still before the 
appalling picture. 

"Oh, my son!" she exclaimed, after a few minutes' thought, 
*'I cannot let you go. It is more than I can bear. You are so 
young, so inexperienced. You cannot conceive of all you will 
have to undergo, even if you could get through safely. But this 
is impossible. Danger is on every side. The enemy is scattered 
on every hand, and the Home Guard, an undisciplined mob, are 
well armed and infest every town and cross-road. There is no 
way open for you." 

" I know it all, mother, and have fully considered all I shall 
have to undergo, but I would brave all this and tenfold more to 
strike for the right. I must go, and tha't immediately. These 
dangers that you speak of increase every hour." 

'' But how can you go^ my son ? You cannot make your way 
through the Federal lines. There is no way. We are hemmed 
in on all sides." 

'•There is a camp, mother, near Bloomfield, in Nelson county. 
I will make my way to it and get out with others. Men are con- 
stantly going to Buckner from this point." 

The mother could not give her consent. JSTeither could she 
further oppose the unalterable purpose of her son. "With that sad- 
ness which only a mother's heart can feel under a similar trial, 
she busied herself with the necessary preparation to secure a com- 
fortable outfit. Every thing was conducted quietly. Neighbors 
might betray, servants might tell tales. 

"Lu," said Charley to his sister, wBo sat beside him sewing 
away as fast as she could on some flannel under-garments for her 
brother, "you must go into the city to-morrow and bring out 
Mary Lawrence." 

" But she will not come, Charley. Yon know John is going to 
the army, too." 

"I will see John, and get him to come here with me. "We will 
leave together." 

"Oh, well, that will answer finely. I should like to see John 
once more before he turns soldier. He used to be one of my 
great friends. But I have not met him since his stay among the 
Yankees. I might not admire him so much now." 

" He is not changed, Lu, only improved. You would be 
charmed with him. He is so agreeable, so noble, and so hand- 



" Ah, don't speak his praises too rapturously. It miglit revive 
the old flame. You know we used to play sweetheart when we 
were children." 

'•Oh, yes, t;o you did, and who knows what may result from 
your meeting to-morrow? But you will bring Mary out, won't 
you ? And get her, Lu, to go to Elrod's and have her ambrotype 
Taken for me. She will not refuse." 

'* Very well. I shall do all I can to meet your requests." 

" Dearj kind sister you are," said Charley, throwing his arms 
around her neck and kissing her soft, white cheek. 

^'I cannot go with you to-night, Charley," said his friend to 
him as they met the next day at Manderville's .clothing-store. 

"And why not, John?" asked Charley, surprised. 

"Mother is quite sick to-day. As soon as I told her last night 
of my arrangement to go out with you, she was seized with one of 
her old attacks, and Dr. Hardin told pa this morning that if I 
should persevere in my intention, it might cost her her life. You 
know slie has a disease of the heart, and is likely to die at any 
moment. I feel that I can scarcely relinquish my undertaking. I 
have made every preparation. See that large package of goods 
there. Pa got me a complete outfit, and, moreover, has bought 
me a splendid horse from Bacon's. But my duty to my mother, 
Charley, is beyond my duty to my country. And I feel that I 
must delay until I can gain her consent." 

"I regret this, John, deeply regret it. But you have decided 
rightly. Good-by, my friend, time presses me. I hope we shall 
soon meet again, where, with the brave hearts of the South, we 
can shoulder our arms in freedom's cause." 

They grasped each other's hands firmly, and with a hearty 
shake and a word of adieu the two friends parted. 

It was the sunset hour. Charley and Mary sat beside the open 
window, looking out upon the still, quiet scene beyond. The lawn 
with its carpet of green, and shaded here and there by clumps of 
irrand old forest tree.^, spread out before them.. Beyond it, in the 
distant horizon, was the dim hazy outline of the city. The rich 
mellow rays of the autumnal sun were flooding the western sky 
with radiant glory, such as we dream lights up the far away 
abode of the angels. It was a soft, sweet moment for love. 

The two young hearts sat there in silence, each pulsating with 
that fervent emotion. " What an age of anxious bliss we often 
live in a few moments !" The hand of the dial has scarcely moved 
over the horoscope of time, but we have, in these few fleeting 


moments, added to our experience either of pleasure or pain, years 
of thought and feeling. Oh, these dashes of joy or of grief, how- 
far aduwn our life-path they throw their gladness and their gloom! 
Charley was lirst to break the silence. 

'' You will not forget me, Mary, when I am gone ? Years may 
])ass before we meet again. Others will gather round you, and 
perhaps will strive to win your love. Will they succeed ? The 
thought is madness to me. You know I loved you, Mary, w^hen 
in our earliest yedrs we used to go with the Sabbath-school to 
our holiday pic-nics, or in winter-time meet with our schoolmates 
in our childish parties. I have loved you always, ever. My af- 
fection for you has never known change. And could I feel now 
that you could love another ; that while I am away, an exile from 
my home and friends, you should cease to think of me, forget to 
love me — Oh, the thought is anguish — but I will not doubt you, 
Mary. You have ever been true, even when far away. Shall I 
not rely on your constancy in the future as I have found it in the 

Great tears stood in Mary's large blue eyes, as Charley's w^ords 
of doubt fell on her ear. She felt that her heart was wronged 
even by a suspicion of her faithfulness. The pearly drops gathered 
andjchased each other down her flushing cheeks. In a voice 
broken with emotion, she said : 

" How can you doubt me thus, Charley ? You do me wrong to 
dream that I could ever forget you. I have always been true. 
When we were separated for months, you had never a reason to 
suppose for a moment that I ceased to remember you. Why should 
you feel so now that I am older, and have loved you longer ?" 

"Oh, I do not doubt you, Mary," he answered, clasping the 
soft, dimpled hand in his, and pressing it to his lips. " Pardon me 
if my language seemed to betray a thought of change in your af- 
fection. You know love is jealous, apprehensive." 

"■ Oh, do not say so, Charley ; you pain my heart. Love should 
be without suspicion, trusting, confiding. I do not doubt you. I 
do not feel that any dark-eyed daughter of Dixie could ever sup- 
plant me in your love." 

" Never, never, Mary. In life and in death I shall prove faith- 
ful to you. And should I never return, should I fall unnoted, and 
no friend be near to bear my dying words to you, rest assured that 
as now your image shall dwell in my heart, and naught but the 
dread hand of death shall ever wrest it from its shrine." 

Mary looked upon him in her artless beauty. Tears were stream- 


ing from her eyes, and her cohir came and went with the varying 
emotions of her lieart. Never had she appeared to Charley half 
so lovely. Her dark auburn curls were thrown back from the 
full sniootli brow, whose whiteness was that of the Parian mar- 
ble. And from the liquid depths of those large beautiful eyes, 
fringed with their long silken lashes, and now suffused with tears, 
spoke out the true loving soul of woman in all its ingenuous ten- 
derness and trust. She was about to break the silence that had 
succeeded Charley's impassioned avowal, when a buggy drove to 
the stile, and a gentleman sprang hastily from it, and throwing 
wide the gate entered the yard with a rapid step. 

"• Oh, it is John ! My mother ! my^other!" exclaimed Mary, 
liastening to meet her brother. 

Her conjecture was but too true. Mrs. Lawrence had grown 
suddenly much worse, and Dr. Hardin had requested that Mary, 
■who was her mother's nurse in her attacks, should be sent for. 

In a few moments Mary was bonneted, ready to accompany 
her brother to the city. Charley waited for her in the hall. 

"The ambrotype, Mary. Did you not have it taken for me?" 

She drew the picture from her pocket, and handed it to him. 
As he received it he detained her hand a moment, and placed on 
it a beautiful diamond ring. 

"And yours, Charley — am I not to have it?" 

"Lu will give it you, Mary. I left it at the gallery to be fin- 
ished. "Write me. Miry, when I am gone." 

She sweetly smiled assent, a§ she turned those soft speaking eyes 
up to his. He led her to the stile, and kissing her burning cheek, 
assisted her into the buggy. The brother seated himself beside 
her. A look of love through the fast-falling tear-drops, answered 
by one which spoke far more eloquently than language could have 
done the deep passionate idolatry of Charley's soul, and the lov- 
ers parted to meet — when? Ah, when? 

Night drew on. The busy preparations were completed. The 
best horse was saddled, and brought to the door. The mother's 
burdened heart was well-nigh breaking. The father passed through 
the house with a bewildered, distracted air, like one seeking some 
object which his mind does not fully comprehend. Lu was grave 
to sadness. Tenderly she loved her brother, and sadly her heart 
was grieved at the thought of his leaving home. But her youth- 
ful imagination clothed even her sorrows with the bright-hued 
tints of hope. And in the future she already saw her brother 
receiving the honors and fame which the brave patriot merits. 


"God be with you, and shield you, my son, in the dread day of 
battle," sobbed the weeping motiier, as she pressed her son to her 
bosom in the parting embrace. She could add no more. Her 
heart was too full for words. She could only weep as she held 
him in her arms. Tiie father gave his blessing — 

" God be with you, Charley. Remember the cause for which 
you go forth to fight, my son, and may you be spared to return 
to us." 

Lu kissed him, weeping bitterly, as she threw her arras about 
his neck, while Lilly and Willie, the youngest-born, clung to him 
as if they would not let him go. It was a sad, solemn moment — 
one when the heart forgets the past sorrows for the present, and 
beats with fearful forebodings of the years to come. Charley alone, 
of all the group, looked out with hopeful eye on the path before 
him. Bidding them good-by, he mounted his horse, and turned 
from his home to seek his way to the Confederate army. 





The soft stars of September studded.the heavens, shedding a 
pale dreamy light over the still earth. Tlie night air was chill. 
The evening breeze, which had now increased to a stiff north 
wind, swept southward from the river. But neither the chas- 
tened beauty of the one, nor the discomfort of the other, could 
serve to distract the thoughts of our young hero from the glowing 
visions that filled his mind. He was taking a look-out into the 
future, and with that hopefulness peculiar to the young, which all 
the accumulated experience of the world, taught in history, biog- 
raphy, homily, didactics, and the every-day life of all who are 
growing old, cannot school, warn, or overcome, his earnest soul 
was crowning that future with fame, honor, and enjoyment. All 
the wild and brilliant excitement of a soldier's life was before 
him, and his young heart bounded with rapturous exultation as 
in imagination he dashed on through victorious conflict towards 
the goal of his hopes. 

Alasl poor, inexperienced boy! He was revelling amid the 
rainbow tints of fancy. He saw not the labored march, the tent- 
less bivouac, the gore of the battle-field, the loathsome prison- 
house. He thought not of the home he had left; not of the kind 
mother who wjrs even then offering up a prayer for her boy's safe- 
ty ; not of the indulgent father, to whom the long night-watches 
were hours of restless, anxious fear; not of the loving sister 
whose tears of afiection were then bedewing her sleepless pillow; 
aye, even the image of the dark-haired, gentle Mary was momen- 
tarily obscured by these dazzling phantoms of war. 

On and on he rode, busy with his own inspiring thoughts. He 
met only a passing traveller on the journey. As day broke over 
the earth, wearv and chilled he neared Bloomfield, where he 
expected to find'Captain Jack Allen, with his men. He entered 
the town as the gray mists of morning were lifting themselves 
from the humid earth. As he approached the inn he saw crossing 
the highway two men, like himself, equipped for travel. He 


glanced at their horses. They were jaded, evidencing a long and 
rapid ride. 

Without hesitation, he spurred his horse to their side. 

" For Captain Allen's camp ?" 

Startled, they looked at him — it was l^ut for a moment, they 
seemed to understand his mission as if by intuition — and bowed 

'' Where is it situated ?" 

" We do not know," answered the elder of the two travellers, a 
man of forty years of age, and whom we shall call Mr. Bryant, 
*' nor have we dared to ask any one we have met." 

''You do not live in the vicinity, then, gentlemen?'' 

** We have come from Franklin county since yesterday evening, 
avoiding, as far as we could, all public roads, lest we might 
perchance fall into the hands of the Home Guard. These are 
dangerous times for Southern men to be travelling in the direction 
of Bowling Green. Have you no idea where the camp is ?" 

'' None." 

Just then the travellers passed a house by the road-side. The 
farmer was on the front porch. He looked for a moment at the 
strangers, stepped out and bowed, with a pleasant smile. Mr. 
Roberts had seen many such travellers in the last two weeks, and 
he full well understood their business. 

"He looks like a friend, gentlemen. I'll trust him," and 
Charley reined up in front of the stile. 

" We are seeking for Captain Jack Allen's camp, sir. Can you 
direct us to it?" 

'' Captain Allen anjd his men have gone to Dixie, my friend — 
left night before last." 

"■ Is it possible for us to overtake them, sir ?" interposed Mr. 
Bryant. " We wish to go through, but fear to set out alone." 

" Have you no guide, gentlemen ?" 

" Xone, sir." 

" And do nojt know the country ?" 

" Never have passed over a foot of the way." 

'* Then, sir, it would be attended with great danger to go alone 
There is a regiment of Lincolnites at Lebanon, another at New 
Haven, and I am told the Home Guard beyond are constantly 
seizing every one whom they suspect of attempting to make their 
•way to Buckner." 

" What shall we do ?" asked Charley, starting from his seat. 
^ I must get through if it cost me my life." 


''Yon mnst all remaiu with me, gentlemen, for the present," 
responded Mr. Roberts. '' There will be some recruits here in a 
few days, I am told, a company of men from one of the adjoining 
counties. You can go through with thera." 

''Is there no danger in doing this?" asked Mr. Bryant, hur- 
riedly. ^ 

" None in the world, sir. We are all right in this region. You 
may go where you please, and say and do what you please. No 
spies here in Dixie. Not a Lincoln man in the neighborhood." 

The men alighted, and at the kind invitation of their host seated 
themselves before a good suK^kiiig breakfast. 

Our young hero began to realize that there were dijfficnlties in 
the path to glory. But he was not a wiiit daunted. Naturally 
brave and enduring, with a love for the novel and exciting, the 
new-found trouble but heightened his zest and increased the 
interest of the undertaking. He chatted pleasantly of the risks 
that must everywhere beset their way, and reiterated his purpose 
to achieve his object or perish in the attempt. It was soon 
ascertained he was from Louisville, and many were the questions 
asked by his new friends relative to the state of affairs in that 
Eoted city. 

" How many troops have passed through Louisville, Mr. R., 
since Rousseau brought his 'Kentucky' regiment over from Jeffer- 
Bonville?" asked the host, as with his guests he assembled around 
the bright wood fire in the best room of the house. " I happened 
to be in the city at the time this quasi-Keutucky regiment marclied 
through on their way to Elizabethtown, and, really, if all of 
Lincoln's defenders are like that squad of jail-birds and wharf- 
rats, I think General Buckner can come to Louisville whenever he 
gets ready. They can offer but poor opposition. "Why, I tell you, 
gentlemen, there was scarcely a man in the regiment that could 
hold up his head." 

" Several regiments of Indianians have been sent forward since 
then to join Rousseau, and many of them were fine-looking men. 
They had the air of men who can and will fight. I fear, sir. 
General Buckner will have hard work to get to our city. Troops 
are now being sent forward daily." 

"Who is this Colonel Rousseau 1" asked the yofinger of the two 
men, who Uad hitherto taken but little part in the conversation 
''He has been figuring in Frankfort for the past few months, as a 
member of the legislature. I have met him there frequently, and 
have several times heard him speak. He seems to me to be a 


coarse, vulgar man, devoid of honesty and of patriotism ; destitute, 
indeed, of every thing but bombast and selfishness." 

" Why, sir," interposed Mr. Roberts, " he was one of the cap- 
tains in that distinguished Indiana regiment that ran so gloriously 
at Buena Vista. You remember Jeff. Davis called out to his men 
to open their ranks and let the flying Hoosiers pass, and then huz- 
zaed, ' Come on, my brave boys, let us retrieve the day.' The 
cowardly Hoosiers then vowed vengeance against Colonel Davis, 
and I suppose Rousseau thinks now is a fine time to pay off the 
old score ; but, I trow, he will have hard work to wipe out the 
disgrace of that day." 

"Do you know his standing in Louisville, Mr. R. ?" interrogated 
the young man. 

'' He commands but little respect, I believe, sir. I have no per- 
sonal acquaintance with him. Indeed, I did not know of his pres- 
ence in our city until his name was offered for the State senate. 
I have heard, since then, from those who knew his status at that 
time, that he was a pettifogger, noted for his impudence and 
coarseness; a hanger-on at the Police Court and around tlie Jail, 
making a penny wherever he could. If a low case was to be tried, 
Rousseau was sure to be connected with it; and would often, 
when engaged in a suit, delay trial from time to time, in order to 
extract money from his unfortunate opponent by way of compro- 
mise. I have heard it said he would suborn witnesses — creatures 
from the most wretched classes, whom he appeared to know well 
— and with these as his tools, together with his bluster and auda- 
city, would often succeed where a more honest and honorable man 
would have entirely failed." 

"But how was he elected to the State senate? — a man of such 
a character. "Was it not a disgrace to his constituents?" inquired 
the young man, who appeared from some unknown reason to feel 
either a deep interest in Rousseau, or an eager curiosity to ascer- 
tain his past history. 

" There was a vacancy in the State senate, caused by the death 
of one of its members, and it became necessary to elect a man to 
fill the unexpired term. Rousseau offered himself; there was no 
opponent. He was successful, and thus, for the first time in Ken- 
tucky, he found 4iimself in position. This occurred before the 
presidential election. The frequent called sessions of the legisla- 
ture, which became necessary from the distracted state of the 
country, and in which he has ever striven to make himself con- 
spicuous for 'loyalty,' have given him some notoriety. A few 


months ago, he solicited a coinmi.>5sion to raise a regiment. Of 
course lie had no difficulty in obtaining it, as he was introduced to 
Lincoln as 'Captain Kousseau,' who had fought gallantly in the 
Mexican war, and who was now a State senator from Kentucky. 
He bore, in addition to this, a letter of recommendation from old 
Prentice, with whom he is bosom friend at drinking saloons and 
wine parties. His zealous advocacy of 'The Government,' as the 
measures of the administration are now denominated, introduced 
liim to the j)resident as a fitting instrument to carry out his pur- 
poses in our State. 

With a colonel's commission in his pocket he returned to Louis- 
ville, and by ridding the cities of New Albany and Jeffersonville 
of the outcast and outlawed population, he has secured a force 
with which he hopes to add fresh laurels to his wreath in his pat- 
riotic endeavors to 'crush out this wicked rebellion.'" 

"And this is ^ColoneV Rousseau's history, is it!" exclaimed Mr. 
Roberts; "and it is just as I expected, gentlemen. I have always 
understood his character was doubtful, but I had not known how 
jnere circumstances had made him a hero. I tell you, sirs, that 
nine-tenths of these Kentucky Federal officers are of the same 
stamp with Rousseau — little men without one whit of merit — 
made great by the events of the hour, and — " 

A loud knock was heard at the door. Mr. Roberts arose to 
open it. As he did so, he encountered a man of medium height, 
dressed in a suit of dark jeans. Beside him was a youth of about 
twenty years of age. The strangers bowed, bidding him "Good- 

" Walk in, gentlemen, walk in," said Mr. Roberts, throwing open 
the door and motioning them to the fire. They stepped forward, 
descried the three guests, and hesitated. Mr. R., divining their 
reason, whispered to them, "All right, no danger; these are 

"I call, Mr. Roberts," said the elder of the two, before taking 
the proffered chair, "to ascertain where the rendezvous is in this 
neighborhood for Southern men, and whether there is any proba- 
bility of getting through to General Buckner from this point. I 
learned in Bloomfield that Captain Allen had left a few days since, 
but apprehensive that some difficulty might arise from further 
questioning on this subject, I did not make known to my inform- 
ant the object of my inquiry." 

Mr, Roberts, in a few words, gave the desired information to 
the gentleman, and again requested them to be seated. They were 



in the act of accepting his invitation, when another rap was heard 
at the door. The guests cast meaning glances at each other: sev- 
eral of them betrayed evident emotion. 

"Do not be alarmed, sirs," said Mr. Roberts, pleasantly, observ- 
ing the trepidation of some of his guests. " Friends, no doubt," 
and he opened the door and ushered in the three newly arrived 

"Good-morning, Captain Utterback!" exclaimed the eldest of 
the three, a man of about forty years of age, with a very pleasant 
countenance, a noble form, and a slight sprinkle of gray mid his 
black hair, as he approached the fireside, and grasped the hand of 
one of the men who rose to welcome him. " We have overtakeu 
you at last, after a weary ride over a dreadful road." 

Captain Utterback, after greeting his friends, and introducing 
them to the gentlemen present, called Mr. Roberts aside. After 
a few moments' conversation with the host, he returned to the 
room, and announced to his men his readiness to leave. 

Charley and his two friends understanding that the captain was 
going out in search of Camp Secret, decided to accompany him 
and his men. 

" Any danger of betrayal from our numbers, Mr. Roberts ?" in- 
quired the captain. 

"None, sir, none. You have no enemies in this region." 

The men mounted their horses and turned into the soad. As 
they did so, they saw approaching them from the direction of the 
town a group of four horsemen, followed by a buggy containing 
an elderly gentleman and a servant ; and yet a few paces in the 
rear, two others, whose horses looked jaded from travel. The 
party halted. 

Captain Utterback looked steadfastly at them for a moment. 
"For camp, gentlemen?" 

They answered in the affirmative. 

" We are just setting out for that point," pleasantly remarked 
the captain, " and if you will receive our escort we shall be most 
happy to give it you." 

The oftered favor was most gladly accepted, and the men wheel- 
ed into line. 

Our young hero was excited and cheered with the animated 
prospect. Already had he taken position beside the young friend 
of the captain. 

Tho party proceeded on the public road about two miles further 
west of Bloorafield, then suddenly turning to the right of the high- 


way, tljey passed through a narrow lane, succeeded by an open 
fiehl, tlien across a tiinall stream, into a dense forest. As they 
were about t(^ enter, they were accosted by armed men. 

'• Who goes there?" 

''Friends of the South," answered Captain Utterback. 

" Pass in, and follow the road, it will lead you to camp," was 
the response of the guard. 

The horsemen entered. Proceeding a few hundred yards, they 
came suddenly upon a large hollow, studded with small rail-pens, 
which were covered with straw. 

''This is 'Camp Secret,' boys," said the captain, lifting his hat, 
and giving three cheers for the South. 

His example was lustily followed by the men, who made the 
old woods ring again with their shouts. A few moments more, 
and Charley and his friends found themselves " in camp," for the 
first time. They saw there a few armed men, whose business it 
was to guard the place. 

There were new arrivals throughout the day, of groups of two 
and three, sometimes more. Some were on horseback, some on 
foot, others in buggies. By evening, the camp presented a very 
animated scene; new acquaintances were made, adventures related, 
jokes passed — vengeance against the Lincolnites sworn by all. 

Baskets of nice, warm dinner mysteriously appeared in their 
midst. No one asked whence they came. It was enough to find 
them there, with their inviting content^, ready to appease the 
quickened appetites. The viands were spread and partaken of 
with right good zest ; toasts were drank to the downfall of the 
Yankees and the success of the South. '* Sleeping apartments" 
were selected for the night, straw couches arranged, with their 
covering of blankets and overcoats, and pillows of saddle-bags 
and carpet-sacks. 

*•' Why, how do you do, Mr. Simrall ?" said Charley, as a solo 
horseman rode through the guard, and approached where he was 
standing beside young Wicklifife, of Bardstown, the two engaged 
in earnest conversation, 

" Why, how do you do, Charley ? I did not expect to find you 
here. On your way to Dixie, I suppose." 

" Yes, sir; going out to fight for the South. Will you not join 
our company, Mr. Simrall?" 

"Oh, yes, Charley. I have set ray face towards the Sunny 
South, to link my destiny with hers, whether it be for weal or 
for woe." 


Mr. Sirarall di.-^mounted, and leading his horse some paces from 
where the two young men were resting, secured him to a small 
ash-tree, then approaching a group of men who were standing in 
the iuclosure formed by rail-pens, he made some inquiries relative 
to the preparations necessary for the night, and the probable stay 
of the men at "Camp Secret." 

An hour afterwards, as Charley and young Wickliffe, wlio 
already found each other agreeable companions, were seated on 
an old log talking over the prospects before them, which spread 
out in fair enchanting colors to their youthful and now highly 
excited imagination, they observed four horsemen dash into 

One was shghtly in advance of the others. He was about 
medium height, well-formed, and sat his horse with an elegance 
not often equalled even by the best riders. Every feature of his 
face bespoke daring and determination. Ilis mustache was 
trimmed with exquisite precision. The suit of dark jeans was 
fitted to his handsome form, and the immaculate shirt collar, 
turned over the narrow black neck-tie, contrasted well with the 
bosom of dark flannel. 

As he rode forward to the group he lifted his hat, and spoke. 
There was manly dignity, combined with graceful ease, in the 
movement. His manner fixed the attention of our young hero, 
who felt, he scarce knew why, an irresistible impulse to move 
forward towards the stranger. He did so, followed by Mr. Simrall 
and young Wicklifi"e. 

On approaching nearer,.Mr. Wickliffe recognized the stranger — 
it was John H. Morgan, of Lexington. 




Vert soon after the arrival of Captain Morgan and his men in 
camp, young Wickhfte took liira aside, and the two engaged for 
eonie minutes in earnest conversation, 

*'An excellent idea, Mr. WicklitFe. The men will then all be 
well armed, and we will be more likely to cut our way through if 
attacked. You are familiar with the cross route, and will lead the 

" Know every foot of the road, Captain Morgan. Have travelled 
it many a time when I was a boy, after rabbits and squirrels, and 
nothing would please me better than to capture the Home Guard, 
dastardly wretches! and give them safe lodgment in 'Camp 
Secret' for a few days. It would dissipate their patriotism, I tell 
you, sir." 

Several others, among them Captain Utterback, Basil Duke and 
Curd, who had accompanied Morgan from Lexington, and Captain 
Miner, were called, and the matter laid before them. The plan 
was highly approved by them all ; and another expedition, for a 
similar purpose, was set on foot, to be carried out by the Anderson 
county boys, headed by Duke and Curd. Twenty-five men were 
chosen for the dash upon Lawrenceburg, and thirty-five to 
accompany Crisp Wickliff'e, the latter undertaking beingVegarded 
as far more hazardous. Among this number was Charley, who 
was eager for an adventure. 

Every thing was as speedily and quietly arranged as it was 
possible. A strong spring wagon, which Captain Morgan's men 
had brought through from Lexington, was detailed for the enter- 
prise to Bardstown to bring into camp the captured guns. The 
expedition to Lawrenceburg was to go unarmed, with the excep- 
tion of a few good marksmen, and the men were to bring their 
trophies with them. 

Duke and his men set out as soon as the darkness of the night 
veiled their movements. About an hour and a half later, vount; 


Wickliflfe, with liis thirty-five followers, armed to the teeth, left 
the camp and struck out into the country. On and on tliey went, 
through farms and lanes, as fast as tlie rough nature of the road 
would allow, until they reached the turnpike leading into the town,' 
a quarter of a mile from the place. It was midnight, and as dark 
as Erebus. Ko moon gave her light, and the stars were shut in 
by heavy black clouds. Not a sound was heard save that made 
by the tramping horsemen. 

" We must be as noiseless as the tomb," said young "Wickliflfe to 
Charley, who rode beside him. Every thing must be done with 
the utmost quiet, for if we are betrayed in this matter we shall be 
captured after we set out from Camp Secret." 

They proceeded in groups of four or five on the grass-grown 
paths by the roadside — the w\agon keeping a respectful distance in 
the rear — until they reached the edge of the town. 

The men were then halted, and Crisp Wickliflfe, with two others, 
dismounted and set out to reconnoitre. They proceeded very 
cautiously to the guard-house, where were deposited about one 
hundred Lincoln guns, which had been clandestinely introduced 
into the State. 

" Who goes there ?" called out the drowsy watchman, as the 
sound of approaching footsteps roused him from his unquiet 

No answer was made. The men advanced. 

" Halt ! Who are you ?" cried the alarmed sentinel, as he 
seized his gun and presented it. 

'" A friend,"' answered Wickliflfe, disguising his voice. "I come 
■with a command." 

The sentinel lowered his gun. Its clash on the pavement 
defined its position. Quick as thought young Wickliflfe seized it, 
while his companions took the man in charge. 

"Not a word, or your life pays the forfeit." The fellow hushed 
his breathing as he felt the muzzle of the pistol at his head. 

" Now tell me," demanded Wickliffe of his quaking prisoner, 
" how many guns are here, and how I can get them." 

The information was readily given, the man feeling that thereby 
he might purchase his life. 

The three, with their prisoner, returned to the men. Ten of 
the company, headed by Wicklitie and Charley, and followed by 
the wagon, returned to the guard-house, effected an entrance, 
secured the hundred guns, h)aded the wagon, and in triumph 
rejoined their companions. 


It was daylight when the victorious party retUMied to camp, 
bearing witli them their poor atf righted prisoner. A loud huzza 
went up as tliey rode in with their trophies. 

Young WickhtFe and his men were all heroes, and many a mess 
was enlivened that morning with a recital of their adventures. 

Tiie exj)edition to Lawreuceburg was equally successful, and in 
a little while the whole camp rang out in loud welcome as Duke's 
party entered, laden with their spoils. Each man had two, and 
some as many as three guns, the result of their daring. They had 
cai)tured sixty-five pieces, and the little camp found itself in pos- 
session of arms enough for all its unarmed men, and some to 

Thus handsomely equipped, and each fearing that every 
moment's delay added to the hazard of the task before them, it 
was decided to make immediate arrangements for setting out to 
join Buckner. After a few minutes' consultation, it was unani- 
mously agreed, by both soldiers and civilians, that John H. Morgan 
should lead the expedition. The position was accorded, as if by 
intuition, to the young and gallant captain, and, the promptness 
of his acceptance, and the ease with which he at once assumed 
the responsible position, gave evidence that he was "born to com- 
mand." Throughout the day recruits were constantly coming in, 
until the number in camp was augmented to four hundred. Captain 
Morgan decided to set out that evening, about sundown, travel 
all night, and rest in some secluded spot through the next day, if 
it should be found impracticable to proceed on their journey. 

During the day, a Louisville journal was brought into camp by 
a friend from Bloomfield. The men gathered round to hear it 
read. They had been for two days shut in from the stirring events 
of the seething world without, 

"List, boys," called out Mr. Leach, as his eye ran down the 
news column. "■ Here is a striking morsel of intelligence for 

Pausing a moment for the noise of merriment to subside, he ele- 
vated his voice to its highest tone, and with great gravity read 
the following announcement in Prentice's own words: 

"Capture of John Mokgan. — John Morgan, captain of a lit- 
tle secession company at Lexington, Ky., with his men, was cap- 
tured by the Home Guard, on their way to Dixie, in search of their 
rights. They are now on their route to Frankfort, where we 
hope they will find their rights and enjoy them to the fullest ex- 


" Well, John, yonr ruse has succeeded admirably," said Dnke 
to the captain, slapping him on the shoulder, and breaking out 
into a hearty laugh, in which he was joined by all present. " Pren- 
tice is deceived this time, and we are safe. You could not have 
made a more capital hit." 

OF morgan; a^d his men. 33 



It was four o'clock in the evening of the 28th of September, 
1861. The busy preparations for the march, which throughout 
the day had occupied the camp, were over. And the force which 
for four days had been quietly assembling at " Camp Secret," were 
in line, ready to move. They were about four hundred strong. 
Two-thirds of the number were mounted, the remainder on foot. 
But all were well armed. 

And there they stood, a band of noble patriots, headed by their 
brave and daring captain. Tliey were leaving home and friends — 
all that made life dear to them — to espouse a cause which the pop- 
ular voice pronounced infamous and hopeless. Branded as traitors 
by the Legislature of their own State, frowned upon by public sen- 
timent — doomed, in the event of failure, to the felon's cell— no 
roll of drum or stirring fife to nerve their hearts to martial deeds — 
no waving flag presented amid the cheers and loud acclaim of an 
excited multitude, to lead them on to glorious victory — no " God 
speeds" rung out on the tumultuous air from friends and fellow- 
countrymen — naught, naught, save the blessing and tears of kindly 
sympathy of the few females of the neighborhood, who had gath- 
ered to witness their departure. 

Their pathway was beset with direst danger. An armed foe 
before and around them, vigilant for their capture — a country to 
pass through almost impracticable to travel — no prospect of pay, 
rations, or clothing — the cause they sought feeble, struggling appa- 
rently hopeless — what had these men to nerve them to the un- 
dertaking? Simply this heaven-bestowed motive : they believed 
they icere right — their cause just ; and thus believing, they could 
do and dare, suffer and die, rather than be crushed beneath the 
fragments of a broken Constitution, rent by the hand of a vulgar 

Say you such men can be conquered ? It is impossible. Fanat- 
icism and fiendishness mav hurl their wild and lawless hordes of 


34 RAIDS AXD eo:mance 

armed minions against them, but they will be scattered, blasted; 
and, like the mighty hosts of Egypt's proud monarch, perish in 
their heaven-doomed undertaking. 

The word of command was given, " Forward, march !" A gen- 
eral movement followed the command, and from the infantry a 
voice rang out in notes sweet and clear, 

" Cheer, boys, cheer ; we march away to battle." 

Voice after voice caught up the measure, until throughout the 
ranks there peeled one loud, harmonious strain. Handkerchiefs 
were waved in response from the group of weeping females, and 
silent prayers offered there for their success have found answer in 
a hundred victorious conflicts since. 

Slowly they crossed the silvery stream that bounded their camp 
in front. Casting one look of parting on this rendezvous of patri- 
otism, they defiled into the narrow lane that led into the main 

As the strains of the chorus died out, a voice caught up tho 

" Though to our homes we never may return, 
Ne'er clasp again our loved ones to our arms, 
O'er our lone grave some faithful heart will mourn : 
Then cheer, boys, cheer ; such death hath no alarms." 

In buggies and on horseback, in the rear of this band of true- 
hearted men, followed a number of citizens. Doomed for opinion's 
sake, by the tyrant at Washington, seconded by the treacherous 
sycophants of their own State, they were going out in sadness 
from the bosom of their families, preferring the sorrows of exile 
to the horrors of imprisonment, or the ignominy of a base oath 
extorted from them by cruel violence. 

Many a manly heart heaved with deep emotion, and many an 
eye all unused to weep was bedewed with tears as the thoughts 
of home, with its helpless inmates, soon to be the prey of a base 
foe, rose up before the mind of the father and brother. Did not 
the pitying eye of the Lord Jehovah look down upon. this brave 
band of patriots, and have not the wrongs these freemen then 
^ndured come up before Him in remembrance, when defeat and 
panic and route have overtaken the insolent oppressor? 

Pickets had been thrown out on the Bardstown pike six miles 
ahead. The intervening country was friendly, and as the column 
moved on by th.e fev.- farm-houses that stood on their route, sunny- 


faced cliiKlren, with smiling matrons, waved them a blessing, and 
loudly cheered for '^Jeff. Davis and Buckner." 

The column neared the Bardstown turnpike. It was expected 
that an encounter would take place with the Home Guard at this 
point. But when Captain Morgan reached the road, he found it 
in possession of his pickets, who reported the w^ay entirely clear. 
Falling into this road, they proceeded about a quarter of a raile, 
then suddenly debouched to the right, and entered upon what is 
known as the New Hope road. The folds of night gathered over 
them as they took up their line of march along this rough, broken 
route ; and, enveloped in the darkness of a starless night, they 
felt secure from all danger of the enemy. 




As we Lave said, it was rnyless darkness. Tiiick clouds covered 
the face of the heavens. The country was hilly, and, at every 
step of advance, the road grew more difficult. It was hard, rough 
work for these men, all unused to midnight marching. But their 
guide — "• Kit Carson," as he had dubbed himself — knew every step 
of the way, was fully acquainted with every turn, hill, and stream, 
and every point likely to be occupied by the Home Guard, and under 
his direction the column moved safely on. Captain Morgan was 
untiring in his endeavors to avoid difficulties and cheer the men, 
frequently passing along the entire lines to see that all was right. 

Charley had found a very agreeable companion in "Wood, of 
Nelson county, and the two youthful heroes whiled away the dark 
and chill night hours in hopeful lookouts into their future, and 
scathing comments on a perjured administration, which, under 
the name of '' the best government in the world," was rapidly 
sweeping away every bulwark of liberty. 

The road, which was scarcely more than a bridle-path, lined 
on either side by thick underbrush, interspersed with gigantic 
trees, was, in many parts, almost impassable. It was difficult for 
the mounted men. Those on foot often lost their way and strag- 
gled into the brush, while a buggy unfortunately veering to the 
right or left found itself suddenly brought to a stand-still by a tree 
or a clump of scraggy black-jacks, and the only alternative was 
for the footmen to lift the vehicle back into the narrow road. 
Then the way to the main road had to be felt, and there was no 
range in which to turn. 

There was a man of the party endeavoring to take through a 
lot of twenty-five mules. When day dawned, he found himself 
with only three of the pesky creatures left. 

There was an old man in company, Mr. Johnson, of Arkansas, 
who afi'orded great amusement to those in his immediate vicinity. 
He had been spending the summer in Kentucky, and delaying too 


lonfr, had been cau^'ht by the blockade of the railroad, and was 
driven to seek his home by this dreadful route. The old gentle- 
man was out of health, impatient, and wicked. 

He was driven by his servant-man, Bob, a boy the old man 
})riz(.'d highly. Bob knew his master's peculiarities, and how to 
humor his tits of passicm. 

As the ditficulties increased, the old man grew more and more 
excited, then petulant, and then, unable to restrain his wrath 
longer, he burst forth into a most furious invective against all 
living flesh. Just at this juncture the horse made a misstep, the 
buggy struck a tremendous rock, the old man was unseated, and 
had not Bob caught him, he would have been dashed headlong 
from the vehicle. 

"I wish to God Jeff. Davis, Abe Lincoln, all the cussed politi- 
cians — yes, and the whole world, was miles deep in hell," he ex- 
claimed in the very fulness of his phrensy, 

" Oh, my dear sir, don't, I beseech you, place us in that horrid 
region," called out his fellow-traveller, in advance, highly amused 
at the fidgety old Southerner. "I have left a wife and children 
in Louisville, sir, and I do hope they will be spared this dreadful 

The old man could not be appeased. He continued to pour 
anathema-maranathas on all creation. 

About midnight. Captain Morgan rode along the lines, announ- 
cing the approach to the Rolling Fork, a deep, and rocky stream, 
the passage of which would be attended with delay, perhaps with 
difficulty and danger. When old Mr. Johnson heard this, he seized 
the reins, drew himself up to the fullest height, and ''swore he 
would never die content until every man who had brought about 
this cussed state of affairs had had his head taken olf smack and 

"•Now, Bob, I tell you, boy," he said most emphatically, as he 
handed Bob the lines, ''if you do drown me, Bob, I'll shoot you — 
Do you hear me, Bob ? Hold^^your reins tight, and follow close to 
that buggy." 

*' Yes, sar — yes, sar, master : Til take you through safe, sar. If 
anybody can git you through. Bob can. Don't be skeered, mas- 
ter; I'll git you through, sar." 

The Rolling Fork is a branch of "old Salt River" — as it is gen- 
erally called — that stream so famed in Kentucky's annals, of which 
poets have sung and politicians jested. 

The "Fork^' is a deep and fearful current, and at the point 


-where the column had to cross it, a high hill rises abruptly on the 
southern bank. Lights had been placed by friendly hands on each 
side of the stream to guide the men in their passage. The blazing 
pine-knots threw a vivid glare over the dark and sullen waters, 
and gave the outline of the frowning hill in front. 

" 'Halt !' rang out through the lines. Footmen were ordered to 
mount behind the men on horseback, that there might be no un- 
necessary delay. Captain Morgan rode to the rear to see that all 
was in readiness. Gaining the front, he ordered the guide to ad- 
vance. Kit Carson plunged into the stream and reached the op- 
posite bank. Captain Morgan and Lieutenant Dtike followed. 
"Advance!" and horseman following horseman dashed in and 
crossed over. Now came the buggies. Captain Morgan returned 
to the middle of the stream and remained there to direct their 

At last old Mr. Johnson's time came. "With fierce and loud 
imprecations he essayed to follow. Midway the stream, his horse 
losing his footing, plunged furiously. 

"Oil! my God! I'm gone! I'm gone! Bob, if I am drov.ned 
I'll have you hung. Do you hear that, boy? Hold that horse, 
or we'll be at the bottom of this cussed creek in a minute. 

A loud peal of laughter rang from the shore as the old man, 
with these last words on his lips, emerged weezing and puffing 
from the " cussed creek." 

The road was so steep and rocky that horses had to be taken 
from the provision-wagons, and the wagons lifted by the men to 
the brow of the hill. 

Bob, with the assistance of others, succeeded in getting his 
master over all immediate difficulties, the old man screaming out 
all the time, " Now, Bob, if you do kill me, I'll have you hung, boy. 
Do you hear that, Bob ?" 

The road was worse now than ever. They had struck a spur 
of the ridge, of which Muldrough's Hill is the most noted. On 
thev went as fast as the nature of the route would admit, nothing 
of interest occurring until about three o'clock in the morning, 
when Captain Morgan dashed along the hnes bidding the men to 
be silent — not to speak above a whisper, as it was feared they 
were in the neighborhood of some Home Guard pickets. 

The column was halted, scouts were thrown in advance, headed 
by Captain Morgan and led by Kit Carson. 

After a hasty reconnoissance, they returned and reported "No 
danger." The way was now supposed clear of all obstacles, and, 
as the rond improved, they quickened their pace. 


At (Liylight they crossed the Lebanon branch of the railroad. 
It was expected to liave a skirmish here with the Guard, who had 
captured six of Cai)tain Jack Allen's company at this point a few 
days before. But not a soul was seen up and down the road as 
far as the eye could reach. 

In tliree hours more they were in the neighborhood of friends, 
vrhere they halted to refresh themselves and feed their horses. It 
was found that three men were missing from their number. What 
befell them could never be ascertained. The party was now be- 
yond the enemy's lines. 

Tiiat night they encamped near Uodgenville, in La Rue County. 
As this was a hostile section, they found great difficulty in })ro- 
curing food for themselves and horses. They succeeded in pur- 
chasing some corn-bread and meat, which, added to their stock 
on hand, served to stay their appetite for the night. 

E;irly the next morning (Monday) they set out for the Confeder- 
ate encampment on Green river, opposite Mumfordsville. And 
as they felt themselves freed from all apprehensions of attack, 
each one breathed more freely, and joke and laugh resounded 
along those ranks of weary yet determined men. 

Not knowing but that a force of the enemy might endeavor to 
cajiture him in the vicinity of Green river. Captain Morgan very 
wisely sent forward videttes to see that the route was clear. It 
had become known in the encampment that Morgan and his men 
would reach the river that evening, and it had been decided to 
send out an escort to conduct them in. Accordingly, Major 
Wintersmith, with two others, crossed the river and proceeded a 
few miles in the direction of the expected advance. They had 
rode but a short distance, before they perceived two men ap- 
proaching them. They were well mounted, and their guns were 
carelessly depending from their shoulder. 

"Halt!" cried out the major, as soon as he was sufficiently 
near to make himself heard. 

The men thus accosted reined in their horses, dropped their 
bridles, seized their guns, and in the twinkling of an eye were 
ready to fire upon their supposed enemy. 

''Friends!" cried out the major, just in time to save himself 
and companion from the unerring bullet of the riflemen. •' We 
come to meet Captain Morgan." 

Instantly the guns Avere lowered, and the two rode forward. A 
moment more and the parties had alighted, hands were grasped 
in friendly greeting, and welcomes extended in the name of the 


Second Kentucky — Colonel Hanson's noted regiment — to Captain 
Morgan and his brave followers. 

An hour more and the whole force had crossed the river, and 
in a style at once dashing and impressive, rode into cam[). 

Loud and long and pealing were the shouts of welcome sent up 
by the Kentucky boys, as they beheld this large reinforcement to 
their numbers. Hats were flung high in the air, and their cheers 
for old Kentucky echoed and re-echoed along those grand old 
hills, while '* Cheer, boys, cheer" — their battle-song— burst in 
joyous notes from groups gathered around the newly arrived 

There were stationed at this point, in addition to Colonel 
Hanson's regiment. Captain Jack Allen and his men, besides 
liundreds of others who had found their way thither from different 
parts of the State. 

Charley recognized in Colonel Hanson's regiment many of his 
old friends who had left Louisville some months before, for Camp 
Boone, among them Adjutant Frank Tryon, young Benedict and 
Delph, who hailed his arrival w'ith open arms. 

Our young hero, eager for an opportunity to serve his country's 
cause, soon enlisted in Company C, of the Second Kentucky, and 
entered immediately upon the duties of a soldier. Others joined 
the Second Kentucky, while most of the men found their way into 
the regiments of Colonels Hunt and Lewis. 

Captain Morgan and his company of forty men did not unite 
themselves to any command. Morgan wished to act as a partisan 
ranger, and addressed General Buckner a note, asking to be allowed 
to serve in this capacity. But it not being deemed prudent to 
grant the request, and Morgan not wishing to be a burden to the 
cause, moved his men to the north bank of the river, rented a 
vacant house for them, and provided for all their wants. TTith 
this as his headquarters, he made the country between Green 
river and Bacon creek the scene of many a daring exploit, which 
history will yet record to the honor of John Morgan, Kentucky's 
noblest chieftain. 




Camp FIRES were blazing brightly. The cold and silent stars 
looked out from their far-off blue home in heaven upon the quiet 
scene. The soft moonlight kissed the cold earth and lay in silvery 
sheets of beauty on the bosom of the gently stealing river. Silence 
had thrown its deep spell on every object, only broken at long 
intervals by the low monotone of the watch-dog. 

Two men threw themselves beneath a large tree in front of a 
tent door, near one of the camp-tires. 

"1 will tell you, Will, the wiiole story," was the reply of the 
younger to the question of his friend. " We have had a hard time 
getting through to join this Southern cause, and I think with 
Morgan that we have a right to serve it as we think best. We 
had a company of sixty men, well drilled and well armed. John 
Morgan was our captain, and Basil Duke whom you have seen 
with us here, was first-lieutenant. Our intention was to serve 
our State, — to drive from her borders any foe that dared invade 
her soil. An order came to disarm the State Guard. We had 
long been objects of suspicion by blinded Union men, who had, in 
various epithets conferred upon us, spoken out their disapprobation 
of our course. The Home Guard, under a Captain Woodson Price, 
who was more distinguished for his artistic taste than good sense, 
had uttered base threats against us. This, of course, we did not 
hec-d. But when that infamous craven legislature at Frankfort 
invited Anderson into Kentucky, and placed Crittenden in com- 
mand of the militia of the State, we saw what awaited all Southern 
men. Our company, of course, disbanded to avoid suspicion. As 
soon as General Buckner reached Bowling Green, Captain Morgan 
decided to join him. He made his purpose known to as many as 
he could meet, and they to others. It was assented to by a largo 
•majority. Preparations for leaving were secretly made. Each 
man had secured his gun and determined never to yield it, though 
he should die for refusing to do so. 


" We met at our secret rendezvous from night to night, and 
reported progress. It was deemed most prudent to leave the city 
in companies of two or three, at different hours and by different 
routes, thus avoiding suspicion. We assembled at Lawrenceburg. 
Our arrangements for provisions were intrusted to one of tiie 
company whom we knew to possess remarkable spirit ^nd tact. 
As we passed along the streets we could hear threats pronounced 
against John Morgan and his men, and it was said currently and 
believed, that the most prominent of us were to be arrested. This 
we determined to avoid. The day appointed for setting out at 
length came round. Captain Morgan found liynself narrowly 
watched, and was compelled to leave Lexington on foot, and meet 
a friend with his horse beyond the city limits. Others of us had 
to pretend we were going to Paris and Georgetown on business. 

"On departing, we could bring nothing with us that would 
jeopardize us, so we had to leave our baggage and gtins to our 
friends who were less suspected, and who were to come out at 
night. Some were to leave Wednesday, some that night, and 
others less noted not until Thursday. Our plan^succeeded ad- 
mirably. I believe not one, who set out for Camp Secret, has 
been arrested yet. 

"In the course of twenty-four hours after Morgan entered Law- 
renceburg, he found himself at the head of fifty men. We remain- 
ed there a few hours awaiting others whom he hoped would join 
us. Some of our bravest men are behind. But they had large 
families, and I suppose felt they could not leave them. At Law- 
renceburg, Morgan hired a man he could rely upon, and sent him 
to Louisville to inform old Prentice that he and his men had been 

''That was a happy ruse^ indeed," interrupted the eager listen- 
er. "I am convinced, after hearing your story, that Captain 
Morgan should be left to pursue his own course. He can aid the 
cause in Kentucky, perhaps, better than any other man. His 
family influence is extensive. He can command money, is ac- 
quainted with the State, and, above all, is a man of decision, en- 
ergy, and daring," 

Weeks passed by. Charley had become measurably inured to 
the duties of a soldier's life. He could stand on picket or guard, 
go scouting or foraging, make coffee or corn-bread. Prompt, obe- 
dient, kind, he won the respect of his officers, and the esteem of 
his fellow-soldiers, and his faithfulness and daring had obtained 
the favorable notice of his colonel. 


His letters to his friends at home were characterized by a sj)irit 
of clieerfiH endurance of present discipline, and heroic determina- 
tion to make good his cause in the field of conflict. Hopeful, 
buoyant, he gilded the future with the bright hues of joyous 
expectancy, yet he realized that the life he had chosen was one of 
labor and hardship. "We shall have to endure many trials, ^^ 
motlier, suffer many privations, make many sacrifices, but we shall ^m 
conquer, shall surely triumph; the justice of our cause insures 
success. There is not a man in our regiment that would not 
prefer death to submission." His letters to Mary breathed the 
same spirit of hope and confidence, tempered, liowever, by a feel- 
ing of sadness at their separation, and an earnest desire that their 
meeting migiit not be far distant. 

Poor Mary! Over her young loving heart there had crept a 
shadow. And she who through life had ever been so joyous, so 
happy, was now sad and thoughtful. Most of her time was 
passed with her mother, whose health grew daily more feeble, and 
who clung to her child with that feeling of dependence which 
the weak manifest towards the strong. 

Meanwhile the Lincoln hordes were pouring into Kentucky, 
possessing themselves of every point deemed important to their 
purpose of subjugation. The great heart of the State stood still 
before the unfoldings of the dread panorama. And those whose 
voice had been for ''Union" at the polls and in private, now 
began, with fearful forebodings, to ask themselves if the bayonet 
would accomplish the desired end. But what could be done ? 
They had courted the oppression of the tyrant ; had forged the 
fetters that enchained them. And now they stood helpless, hope- 
less, the victims of their own pusillanimity and avarice. While 
those who had ever opposed the coercion of free and sovereign 
States as the overthrow of civil liberty and constitutional right, 
robbed of their arms and of every privilege of freemen, denounced 
as traitors, watched in every word and act, realizing that any 
show of resistance would be sheer folly, suffered themselves to be 
borne along by the current, and even swept into the fearful vor- 
tex. Better far had they resisted in the outset, and driven the 
invader back from the banks of the Ohio. 

Poor degraded, subjugated Kentucky ! Thine is a sad story of 
vacillation and fear; of wrong and oppression. Tlie faithful 
chronicler of this wicked war must pen with shame and regret thy 
irresolution, and its ruinous results. While I write, as one of thy 
children, I weep as my thoughts go back to thee in thy deep 


humiliation, and linger amid thj once lovely scenes — thy once 
free and happy sons and daughters, now so oppressed, so down- 
trodden. But thou wilt arise from thy fallen position. Even 
■while I "weep, the glad tidings comes sweeping in the breeze, 
"Kentucky determines to be free!" And now, at the last hour, 
thou wilt break the chains that bind thee, and wilt stand ranged 
with thy Southern sisters, proudly free, determinedly defiant. 

A vote of a party legislature had invited Anderson, of Sumter 
notoriety, into the State to take charge of the troops within her 
borders'. This was a cunning pretext to open the way for the for- 
midable army that was soon to be thrown against Buckner at 
Bowling Green. The purpose of the Lincolnite dynasty had been 
served, and Anderson, the man of an hour, the fool of an unprin- 
cipled party, had been superseded by Buell, who was concentra- 
ting his force as rapidly as possible, in front of Bowling Green. 
His advance, under Rousseau, already extended beyond Elizabeth- 
town, and between that point and Louisville troops were being 
massed in numbers. Paducah, Smithland, and several interior 
towns were already in their possession. 

Major Breckinridge, having made his escape through the Federal 
lines, had reached Bowling Green, and there, in an address to tlie 
people of Kentucky, resigned his seat in the Federal congress, 
and announced himself ready to serve the Southern cause in what- 
ever position might be assigned him. He received the commis- 
sion of brigadier-general, and the Kentucky regiments were 
formed into a brigade, of which he was given the command. 
Hanson's force was recalled to Bowling Green, and General Hind- 
man thrown into position at Green river. 

It was proposed to establish a Provisional Government for Ken- 
tucky, that she might be represented in the Confederate congress. 
It was decided the Convention for that purpose should meet at 
Russellville. The Federal authorities heard of the movement, and 
declared the Convention should never assemble, and it was deter- 
mined to throw Crittenden's force so as to menace Russellville, 
and prevent the proposed meeting. General Buckner, learning the 
Federal programme, ordered Breckinridge to move from Bowling 
Green to Russellville. 

It was the middle of ]:s'ovember when Breckinridge and his 
command set out for Russellville. The weather was cold and 
damp, and the roads muddy. It was the first marching his troops 
had done; but his men bore it like veterans, and not a word of 
complaint was heard throughout the lines. 


Charley now began to experience something of the hardships of 
the campaign before him. As he threw himseU* on his bhinket, 
weary with the fatigne of the day's march, and looked up into the 
face of tiie bending heavens above him, thougiits of home and its 
comforts, of its loved ones whom he might never again behold, 
stirred the deep depths of his soul. Tears sprung to his eyes, and 
he wept like a child. It was not sorrow nor apprehension, but 
tender remembrances of the past that caused him Uius to grieve. 
There he lay thinking, his bosom heaving with varied emotions, 
his wearied frame stretched out on the hard ground, with no cover 
from the cold night air but his blanket wrapped around him, his 
knapsack for a pillow. As he dwelt on the wrongs inflicted on 
his State, the insolence of the oppressor, the sufferings that must 
necessarily follow in the train of horrid war, then turned to the 
insulted South, noble in her determination, heroic in her struggle, 
his iieart grew strong within him, his physical sufterings were for- 
gotten, he heeded not his cold, hard bed, thought not of his empty 
haversack, dreaded not the bloody battle-field. 

Jhe Convention assembled, protected by those gallant men who 
fully thwarted the plans of the Federals, keeping them at bay. 
About seventy counties were represented in the body. Resolu- 
tions were ad()i)ted, declaring that in view of the unconstitutional 
acts of the administration at Washington, and the belief that the 
war was one of usurpation and subjugation, Kentucky, as a sov- 
ereign State, had a right to withdraw herself from the Federal 
compact, and choose her own position. 

Oh the 19th of November, the Ordinance of Secession was 
passed. George W. Johnson was made Provisional Governor, 
and members to the Confederate congress were appointed from 
every district in the State represented in the Convention. 

The Assembly having adjourned, Breckinridge, with his forces, 
was ordered back to Bowling Green. After remaining there for 
some days, the order was given that they should go back to Roch- 
ester, a point on Green river, in Butler county, in order to pre 
vent a supposed flank movement of the Federals. 
* From Rochester they returned to Bowling Green, and proceed- 
ed to Cave City, where, after remaining for several weeks, they 
were dispatched to Glasgow, to intercept an anticipated move- 
ment of the enemy in that direction. The rain poured in 
torrents, freezing as it fell. The men were drenched through 
and through, as they ploughed through the dreadful roads, knee- 
deep in mud. On and on they trudged, over ma:ny a weary 


mile, dripping with wet, shivering with cold, ready to sink with 

Tlie ahirm was false, and after they had proceeded one-third of 
the way, a courier came to countermand the order. Back the 
wh(tle force was turned, to retrace the miserable road. The men 
were sorely tried under this unnecessary experience, and thtir 
displeasure found vent in bitter murmurings. 

Many a "narrow house" at Bowling Green, all unmarked by 
love's kind hand, tells the sad tale of this dreadful march. And 
in many a quiet churchyard and family burying-ground through- 
out Kentucky, the stricken mourner bends over the quiet dust of 
the loved one lost, whose life was there sacrificed. 

Our young hero had a fine constitution, which had been well 
preserved and developed. But those drenching marches had 
sorely tried it, and its vigor and power had finally to succumb 
before the insidious advance of disease, which first manifested 
itself in a slight cold, and then rapidly developed itself into a 
severe attack of pneumonia. Now rose up before his fevered 
'iinngination all the horrors of the hospital, with its tearful suffer- 
ings, its almost certain death. 

" Oh, do not take me there!" he said, pointing to the gloomy 
building that stood before him. "Leave me here to die." 

Through the exertions of Lieutenant Tryon, a bed was procured 
for him in a private house, to which he was borne, and where he 
was as carefully attended as circumstances would admit. There 
was a great deal of sickness in the army at Bowling Green, and 
every house was filled with the sufferers. Measles, fever, and 
pneumonia prevailed most fearfully. 

Charley grew rapidly worse. His symptoms were of the most 
alarming nature. His physician. Dr. Lindley, pronounced the 
case as one of a malignant character, and gave but little encourage- 
ment to hope for his recovery. A friend of Charley's, from 
Louisville, being informed of his situation, sought him our, that he 
might minister to his sufferings. This gentleman found him in a 
small unventilated room, where lay three other sick soldiers, two 
on the floor, one in the bed beside Charley. 

The air was foul with the fumes of tobacco, while the greatest 
untidiness and neglect were everywhere visibl«. Charley was 
wild with fever. He, of course, required the most profound quiet, 
and yet a band of musicians was quartered in the building, and 
ever at 'their ])lea?ure they made the air resonant with their martial 
rehearsals. The kind friend found be must certainly die if left to 


remain in that dreadful condition, and determined to hazard his 
removal, despite the assertion of the physician, who declared im- 
peratively that such an act would be followed by certain death. 

An apartment was secured away from the noise and confusion 
of the town, and thither Charley was taken. A skilful nurse was 
procured, and after weeks of pain and feebleness, he so far re- 
covered MS to be pronounced beyond danger. 

It was a cold, bleak morning in December. The snow, wliich 
had fallen the i)revious night, covered the earth with its white 
mantle of purity. The sun shone brilliantly out from the cloudless 
heavens, and as his golden beams fell over the earth, they awoke 
to life a flood of glorious radiance most beautiful to behold. The 
majestic trees, draped in their robes immaculate, caught up the 
dazzling etfulgence, and sent it back in prismal loveliness over hill 
and plain and ice-clad brook. 

Charley sat, a convalescent, beside the hugely blazing log-fire, 
which, sparkling and crackling as if in merriment, sent its dancing 
flames, of fiery hue, here and there, up, across, athwart, as if in 
merry mimic of carnival holiday. His chair was so situated as to 
give him a full view of the scene without, through the window at 
his left, from which the red curtain had been lifted. There he 
sat, thinking, thinking. And of what could he be thinking but of 
home and M ary ? He sighed most deeply, and passed his hand 
slowly over his pale brow, as there came up before him the long, 
long, weary days since he had heard from the loved one whose 
image lived in his heart, whose soft sweet look was ever with 
him, whether in the weary march, or in the still deep hours of 
midnight he lay dreaming of the bliss to come. 

''To seejier once again," he said to himself, as he leaned his 
head on his hand, " would be more to me than the elixir of life to 
Oriental magician. I should be well again, could I but look on 
her faultless form, gaze into the pure living depths of those soft blue 
eyes, and clasp that gentle hand in mine. But, ah me, many a 
day shall come and go before we meet. And it may be — yes, it 
may be — " He dared not complete the dread sentence. He 
shuddered with fear like one seized with a sudden chill — tears 
came to his eyes, and he bowed his head yet lower on his 

Thus he sat for several minutes, thinking, fearing, feeling. Then 
rising, he walked feebly to a little dressing-stand on the other side 
of the fireplace, and took from its drawer a picture. Pweseatiug 
himself, he opened it, and gazed intently on the face before him. 


His countenance wore tlie look of saddened love — his cheek was 
flushed, his hand trembled. 

A rap was heard at the door. Supposing it was his physician, 
whose hour it was to make his raorniug call, he hastily thrust the 
picture into his bosom (its usual resting-place), and wiping the 
tears from his eyes with his hand, he assumed, as far as he could, 
his wonted look of cheerfulness. The door opened. Charley 
turned to bid the physician good-morning. His eye rested on a 
strange form, muffled in overcoat and comforter to shut out the 
bleak winter air. 

Ciiarley bade the visitor " Good-morning," and requested liim 
to walk to the fire, pointing him to a chair which stood near the 

The stranger did not obey the invitation, but stood eyeing the 
invalid with a quizzical look. Charley's face colored deeply, and 
strange fancies began to fill his bewildered brain. The visitor 
threw off his cap, and hastily drew the comforter from his face. 

''John!" ejaculated Charley, as he stretched out his thin, pale 
hand towards him. It was all he could say, for a moment. John 
Lawrence (for it was he), the brother of Mar}', and Charley's life- 
long friend, grasped the feeble hand and shook it most heartily. 
Then drawing the chair to Charley's side, he recounted to him all 
the incidents of his escape from Louisville, and the various adven- 
tures that had befallen him by the way. 

" And I have two letters for you, Charley." And the young 
man turned up the left leg of his pantaloons, and with his knife 
making an opening in the lining, drew forth two sheets of tissue 
paper, closely written, and tossed them into the invalid's lap. '*I 
tell you, my friend, they have had many a hair-breadth escape, 
and could they tell their own story, it would prove no uninterest- 
ing history, I assure you." 

Charley tore off the gauzy envelopes, and looked for the signa- 
tures. One was from his sister Lu, the other from Mary. What 
a smile of happiness overspread his wan face, giving to it an 
expression peculiarly interestiog, as eagerly his eye glanced over 
the contents of these dear missives. Like the breathings of the 
Angel of Life, stole the eloquent words of love into the innermost 
recesses of his soul, arousing to renewed vigor every animal 

The letters were read and laid aside for a reperusal, and conver- 
sation resumed, when the physician, piusing a moment after 
loor and approached his patient. 


*' Ah, better to-day, Cliarley," said Dr. Lindley, pleasantly, as 
he turned from .vliukiii<,' young Lawrence's hand, and took the 
arm of his patient. *■' 1 lliink you will no longer need my care." 

After a few minutes' conversation, the physician rose to leave, 
telling Charley he would not call again, unless sent for, as he was 
now entirely free from danger, and only needed care to restore 
him to health. 

Young Lawrence, or John, as we shall most frequently stylo 
him in our future narrative, remained with his friend for several 
hours, and wlien he left to report himself, and obtain a position 
in C»)lonel Hanson's regiment, if possible, it was under promise to 
return as soon as this business could be arranged, Jolin was not 
only [daced in the desired regiment, but also in Company C, a 
vacancy having been made by the death of one of the members. 

Cliarley, as Dr. Lindley had said, grew rapidly well, and in the 
lapse of two weeks from the physician's last call, he was ready to 
join his regiment, and resume his duties as a soldier. 

Manyji familiar face was absent. Some lay on beds of linger- 
ing languor in the dreary hospitals. Others were quietly resting 
beneath the new-made earth in the soldiers' burying-ground. 





Christmas came and passed. But little of a striking character 
connected with the Confederate army in Kentucky had yet trans-, 
pired. They had served for months to hold in clieck the immense 
Federal force that had been thrown into the State, and thus had 
rendered to the Confederacy most valuable service, by giving it 
time to expand and strengthen its resource55. 

It was the last days of January, 1861. The army had remained 
at Bowling Green since the 18th of September previous. Each 
day intelligence was received that the Yankees would very soon 
make an attack. Already had the gallant Terry fallen at Greea 
river. Already had all the troops been withdrawn from along 
the line of the Louisville and Nashville railroad, and concentrated 
behind the fortifications at Bowling Green, and their old encamp- 
ments were occupied by the advancing foe, who warily yet stead- 
fastly moved on towards the accomplishment of his purpose. 

It became evident to General A. S. Johnston that Bowhng 
Green must be evacuated, particularly as the enemy was now 
making extensive preparations to attack Forts Henry and Donel- 
son by water; but his determination was to hold out at the above 
mentioned place as long as possible, in order that the fortifications 
at Donelson might be made as strong as practicable. 

General Buckner had received orders from General Johnston to 
move with his division against the Federal General Crittenden, 
who with a considerable force was posted at Rochester, a small 
town in Butler county, of which mention has hitherto been made. 
In obedience to the command. General Buckner took with him 
eight regiments, numbering in all about seven thousand men, among 
them the Second Kentucky. Colonel Hanson, the Fourteenth Missis- 
sippi, Colonel Harper, and the Third Tennessee, Colonel Brown. 
General Floyd accompanied him with his Virginia troops, — the 
whole force amounting to about nine thousand. The command 
left Bowling Green for Rochester via Russellville. The rain 
commenced to pour in torrents on the first day of the march. 



Reaching Russellville, it wus found impossible to proceed further, 
owing to the iinp^ussahle state of the roads. While thus detamed, 
orders came to Ge.R'ral lUickner to hasten to DonelsoD, for the 
purpose of reinforciui? the garrison there. 

Cl.arlev, seated on a camp-stool at the d.or of Ins tent, Ins 
paper re;ting on his knee, was busily writing a letter to Mary. 
The rain fell unceasing from the thick black clouds above The 
winter wind blew fiercely through the leafless branches of the old 
forest-teees, which stood like the grim sentinels of some enchant- 
ed land. Its voice sounded mournfully solenm as it swept onward 
•by the tent dt)or, over the dreary meadow-land, and lost itselt 
amid the thick undergrowth of the dark gloom of the dense 
beyond. To the ear of Charley, it seemed like the low plamtive 
dirge of a lost spirit. The scene was dreary and cheerless enough 
to oppress the stoutest heart with loathing disgust for the present, 
and dread apprehensions for the future, and, despite of all his 
endeavors to the contrary, Charley's words would breathe a true 
spirit of subdued thought very near akin to sadness The dark 
trials which were so soon to be realized by many a bold defiant 
heart, seemed to throw their shadows over the present, and to 
forewarn of coming defeat and humiliation 

- I know not why I thus feel, my dear Mary," wrote Charley, 
£fter speaking his fears and apprehensions. " It is so unusual tor 
me to be overcome by gloomy presentiments. But I cannot rid 
nivself of the feeling. Indeed, it reaches conviction, that there is 
sonow in store for us. I have never been so impressed before 
since I parted with you, and my dear, dear friends. It must be 
thi. miserable weather-this ever-continued dropping of the cold 
chill ruin, and mournful sighing of the bleak wind I mus not 
yield to such impressions ; they unfit me for duty, hfe, every thing. 
They will pass away, no doubt, with the sunshine, should that ever 
again return ; and then I shall be myself again." 
^' Orders are to move immediately to Fort Donelson. Qmck, 
boys, be ready as soon as possible. Cars are in waiting to carry 
us to ClarksviUe. Not a moment must be lost." And the speaker 
leffthe door of the tent to deliver his commands elsewhere. 

Charley hastily added an explanation, enveloped and directed 
his letter, and requesting his friend John to attend to all prepara- 
tions, hastened to the post-office. All was energy and bustle 
throughout the encampment. In thirty minutes alter the issuance 
of the order, the Second Kentucky was marched on board the cars, 
which immediately conveyed them to ClarksviUe, d/i route to tort 


DoDelson. This was on Tuesday, February 11th. On Wednes- 
day they reached Donelson by boat. Thursday the attack was 
made on the fort by the land forces of the Federals, under Gen- 
eral Grant. 

It was now evident to the men that some 6ghting must be done ; 
they were now, for the first time, to meet the foe. Victory or 
death was their watch word, and nobly did they make it good 
throughout those memorable three days, when, from early, morn- 
ing until night, they repulsed, with su])erhuman energy, the hosts 
of the beleaguerers. 




What varied emotions are c.illed into life at the mention of 
that name— Fort Donelson ! Emotions of sadness, as the mind 
recalls the sufferings, ])rivations, and defeat of those gallant men 
—those more than Spartan defenders— who, for three long weary 
davs of carnage, maintained the unequal contest against such 
fe-u-ful odds; and who at last yielded because nature, exhausted, 
could no longer obev the biddings of their unconquerable cour- 
age: emotions of unbounded admiration, as we think of the dar- 
in.T, endurance, patriotism, and nerve manifested by that devoted 
ba'iid, who, under circumstances the most trying, without food or 
adequate clothing, meeting and driving back through the day the 
countless hordes of the assailants, and at night, hungry and worn 
from the conflict, sleeping in trenches filled with mud and ice, 
till many were frozen, while the pitiless sleet beat furiously over 
them, vet, like veterans, like brave, patriotic men as they were, 
meeting all these horrors, enduring all this unparalleled hardship 
unmurmuriugly, and with firm, undaunted soul, rising with each 
rising morn to strike for freedom and for right. 

This dreadful war hath many a page all bright and glorious 
with the heroic daring, the patriotic fortitude, the brilliant victory 
of Southern freemen, but none can ever be more lustrous, can 
ever '^peak in words of more thrilling eloquence to the generations 
of all coming years, than that of Donelson, the synonym of all 
that is sublime in suffering, hen)ic in daring, and nobly triumphant 
in patriotism. 

On the 10th of February, General Pillow reached Donelson, and 
took command. Immediately every thing was in busy activity, 
to place the fort in a defensive condition against the expected 
attack by land and river. 

''The space to be defended by the army was quadrangular in 
shape, being limited on the north by the Cumberland river, and 
on the east and west by small streams, now converted into deep 
sloughs by die high wflter, and on the south by our line of defence. 


The river-line exceeded a mile in lengtli. The line of defence was 
about one mile and a half lonjr, and its distance from the river 
varied from one-fourth to three-fourths of a mile." 

The line of intrenchments, of a few logs rolled together, and 
but ^.lightly covered with earth, formed an insufficient protection 
even against field artillery. . Not more than a third of the line 
was completed on the morning of the 12th. It had been located 
near the crest of a series of ridges, which sloped backwards to 
the river, and which were again commanded in several places 
by the ridges at a still greater distance from the river. This 
chain of heights was intersected by deep valleys and ravines, 
which materially interfered with communications between differ- 
ent parts of the line. Between the village of Dover and the 
water batteries a broad and deep valley, extending back from the 
river, and flooded by the high water, intersected the quadrangular 
area occupied by the army, and almost completely isolated the 
right wing. 

There were but thirteen guns, and, on trial, it was found that 
only three of this number were effective against the gunboats. 
The garrison numbered only ''13,000 troops, all told." These 
consisted of Tennessee and Mississippi regiments, under General 
Pillow, General Floyd's brigade, and a portion of General Buck- 
ner's command from Bowling Green, wiiich did not reach the 
fort until the 12th, only the day before the attack, while General 
Floyd did not arrive until the morning of the 13th. 

The morning of the 13th of February rose bright and beautiful. 
Just as the first rays of the dawning sun, bursting through the fleecy 
clouds of the morning, fell over the earth, the loud booming of 
the cannon aroused the expectant garrison, and announced the 
beginning of that fierce conflict which was to last throughout 
three fearful days. 

The men sprang to arms, eager for the contest. Soon, under 
the direction of their ofiicers, they were formed into line of battle, 
and in a few brief moments the strife coiumenced on the right 
wing, commanded by Buckner, and raged in wildest fury. 

On and on came the moving lines of t})e foemen, encountering 
the well-directed fire of infantry and artillery. The massed col- 
umns wavered and fell back with fearful slaughter. Not a South- 
erner faltered. Officers displayed the most daring courage, riding 
np and down the ranks cheering their men, and inciting them to 
deeds of valor, while the rnen, fighting for homes and liberty, ri- 
valled each other in death-defying heroism. 


At 10 o'clock, tlie extreme right of General Buckner's line, un- 
der Colonel Hanson, was desperately attacked, the enemy advan- 
cing: in column, nianitesting a determination to take the position at 
all hazards. On came the serried hosts. 

" Wait, boys, until tiiey come within range of your guns," was 
the command. 

The gallant 2d Kentucky, fired with a desire to repulse the 
dark foe, could scarcely restrain their ardor. "Fire!'' The order 
ran swift along the line, and volley after volley of musketry, min- 
gling with the roar and bursting of shells and the crashing of artil- 
lery, poured into tlie ranks of the assailants. Ah, it was a fearful 
sight to witness the carnage and death that swept along that close, 
dense line. Like grain before the reaper's sickle, they fell, mowed 
down by bullet, shell, and shot. Affrigiited, they paused — 'twas 
but for a moment : rallying, they pressed forward. Again sped tl)e 
horrid missiles of death from the intrenchraents, and down went 
scores of the rash besiegers, mangled, torn, bleeding, writhing in 
the tortures of agony and death. Discomfited, the decimated regi- 
ments retire, to make room t\)r others, who dash on to tlie same 
dreadful fate. Thrice is the attack made on this point by fresh 
and heavy forces — thrice is the foe repulsed with dreadful slaugh- 
ter. The batteries of the Confederates, managed with precision 
and skill — each man performing his part with the greatest enthu- 
siasm — at every discharge, cut long lanes through the serried col- 
umns of the assailants. 

Repulsed, defeated at this point, the enemy, with fresh troops, 
turned his assault on the position beyond General Buckner's left, 
held by Colonel Heiman, and flanked by Grave's battery, which, 
from its location, swept with its deadly tire the valley through 
which the Federals had to advance. 

On they came, with firm, undaunted step, knowing not that 
they were marching to the death. With banners proudly waving, 
and officers splendidly uniformed, cheering their men to victory, 
they dash on — on — on ! All is silent on the part of the besieged. 
AVith a shout of triumph the armed forces press forward. Loud, 
as if a thousand thunders had leaped from their wild storm-cloud — 
reverberating through the valleys, and bounding against the liills, 
to be re-echoed in tenfold fury — burst upon the air the hideous 
bellowing of the wide-mouth cannon ; while the crash and hiss of 
shredding bullets which fell like the thick hail on the close lines, 
sweeping down in one wide welter, hundreds of stricken men, 
added to the loud, wild din, until the earth shook, and the air re- 
sounded with the terrible conflict. 


Louder and louder grew tlie mingling clash of arms : fiercer, and 
yet more fierce the dreadful struggle. But its fiendish fury lasted 
but for a few minutes. The assailants, unable to stand the leaden 
storm in front and the destructive flank fire from Grave's battery, 
like their comrades, faltered onward; then, as if broken by the 
hand of divine vengeance, atfrighted, panic-stricken, they turned 
and fled in wild confusion. 

Hundreds of their number lay mangled, wounded, torn, dying 
on the battle-field, trampled beneath the feet of their retreating 
comrades. Their guns had been silenced — many of their oflicers 
had fallen — yet, unwilling to yield the contest, they poured fresh 
trooj)S against the intrenchments, and the deadly strife went on. 

All through that long dread day, the battle raged most fearfully ; 
and as night closed in upon the sickening carnage, the enemy, re- 
pulsed, cut to pieces, slain in hundreds, was driven to seek his 
position of the morning, leaving the field covered with his dead 
and dying. Ah, it was a sad, sad sight to see them there, cut down 
in tlieir manhood's prime, in servile obedience to the behest of a 

Many who, but a few hours before, had marched forth with 
strong hearts, and arms well nerved, now lay stifi^ and cold in 
death. Many weltered in their gore far away from all relief, send- 
ing out on the dead, dull ear of night, piteous moans and cries for 
help, which, alas, would never come; for when the morning rose 
and woke to life their comrades, they had passed away. 

On the bloody battle-field lay friend and foe in ghastly death en- 
wrapt. Everywhere were nringled, mangled forms of men and 
horses, and broken remains of guns and caissons. In some places 
the dead bodies lay piled several feet deep. In many instances, 
the wounded lay pinned to the moist, cold ground by the forms 
of dead comrades, ^yhose fixed and agonizing eyes looked out as if 
in search of the foe; while the shrieks of the suflfering and dying 
broke in horrid cries on the ears of those who could give them 
no aid. Faint and low was the plaintiv^e wail of some, as with 
the life-blood ebbing fast from their gaping wounds, they turned 
their wild, glaring eyes upward and vainly implored help. 

Ah, it was a sight fearfully appalling, that battle-field of Donel- 
son. For two miles the slain were thickly strewn, and in places 
where our artillery had mowed them down, they lay literally heap- 
ed, soddening in their gore. 

The morning had opened beautifully bright. Towards the 
afternoon a fierce wind swept from the north, bringing on its 


careering bosom rain, and .^lect, and snow. A more fearful nigiit 
could nt)t be conceived than that which rested over the blood- 
bathed battle-field after that first day's conflict. Those of the 
wounded who survived the horrors of that memorable night, had 
their clothes stiff frozen to their griping wounds, while the sleet 
and snow fell pitilessly over their [)rostrat6 forms writhing in 
tortures of helpless, hopeless agony. 

Those of the garrison who had fallen beyond the intrenchments 
shared tiie direful fate of the prostrate enemy. For so close were 
tlie two armies as they rested for the niglit, that neither dared to 
make an etibrt to alleviate the sufferings of their wounded. 

Our men, who had fought throughout the day, weary, worn, 
exhausted by their superhuman etf*)rts, threw themselves on their 
arms in the trenches to catch such repose as the shelling, which 
was kept up at intervals through the night by the enemy, would 

"This is terrible," said Charley to John Lawrence, who lay 
beside him in the pit shivering with cold, while the freezing sleet 
dashed into their faces and fell in icy showers over their benumbed 
bodies, as ever and anon the bursting shells from the enemy's 
batteries came whizzing through the air on their errand of death. 
"Terrible! terrible!" replied his comrade. " We shall all bo 
frozen by morning; it is impossible to live through sucli a night 
as this, lying here in the mud and snow, without any protection. 
But we have whipped the Lincolnites most soundly, and this is 
some consolation, Charley, if we do freeze to death. The poor 
wretches, I wonder how they feel to-night after their drubbing. I 
pity them, foes as they are." 

At that moment a piercing moan was heard just outside the 
intrenchment, near where the two were lying, and a voice, in the 
accents of despair, gasped out, ''Water! water! for God's sake, 
boys, give me water! I am dying!" 

"That is one of our men," said Charley, rising to his knees. 
"Listen! don't you hear? he is near us. I must give the poor 
fellow water, if they kill me for it. I cannot let him lie there and 
die. Go with me, John, perhaps we can succeed in bringing him 

'•They may shoot us, Charley, as they did those boys that went 
out just after dark to bring in our wounded. But we must risk 
it. I would sooner perish than listen to those pitiful groans. 
Have you any water in your canteen? Mine is empty." 
''EnoUirh fur him." 


The two rose cautioiij;!}', and, guided by tlie sad, low moans, 
proceeded warily under cover of the trees to where the sufferer lay. 

" Water, boys, water," said the wounded man, as the noise of 
footsteps fell on his dull ear. *' I am dying — will no one give me 
a drop of water? Oh, for God's sake, a little water, Pm dying. 
Just a little w^ater, then Til die in peace." 

Bending low, and lifting the feeble head, Charley placed his 
canteen to the ftimished lips. The sufferer drank eagerly. 

"God bless you, boys! I was ready to perish, but you have 
saved me," he said, in low, faltering tones. " Could you take me 
from this place? I am freezing, dying. Ah, my poor wife, my 
dear children ! God in heaven pity them !" 

"Be quiet, friend, and we will do for you what we can," 
whispered Charley. ''If you make a noise we may all be shot. 
Where are you wounded ?" 

"There, in my ankle," and the man, with a desperate effort, 
struggled up and placed his hand upon the bleeding limb. As he 
did so, he shrieked with pain. 

"Be quiet," whispered Charley, "or the Yankees will shoot 

"The bone is shattered, and I am so faint I can't sit up," and 
the poor man relaxed his hold on young Lawrence's arm, and 
would have fallen backward to the ground had not Charley caught 
and supported him. 

"Lean on us, and we will bear you in." 

"God bless you, boys," said the wounded man, with something 
like animation in his voice. " I may yet live." 

With great effort the two bore him within the intrenchments, 
and securing a place of safety and comfort for him, called a sur- 
geon to dress his wounds. 

" AVe shall have hot work to-morrow, Charley," said Lawrence, 
as they resumed their places in the trenches. " These Lincolnites 
have a strong force, and they will bring their gunboats into the 

" We shall whip them for all that," was the heroic reply ; "that 
is, if we don't all freeze to-night. But, really, I don't believe I 
can live till morning in this condition." 

"I don't fear a thing but the boats, Charley. But I do quake 
a little at the thought of those monster balls whizzing round ray 

"Soon get used to them, John. And if we die, we perish in a 
glorious cause. This is my doctrine, and I'm not going to let 




their gunboats, or nnv thing else, sciire me. And after all, th 
balls fruni their gunboats will be directed against the water bat- 
teries, and can do us but little harm, I imagine. But their troops 
surprised me, John. They fought like men in earnest. I bad no 
idea they had so much spirit. Poor fellows, they were sadly cut 
to pieces. Their loss must be three or four times ours." 

'' Oh, these Western tnen are brave, Charley. It's all a mistake 
to say they are Yankee cowards. They can fight like wild- 
cats. But they are pretty well used up. I think they'll need 
some rest before they attack us again." 

'• But, doubtless, they will be heavily reinforced before they 
renew t'he attack," replied Charley. '' There's no end to the num- 
ber of these men. This is our only danger. If they can bring 
fresh troops against us to-morrow, I don't see how we can hold 
out. But Buckner is here, and I'll trust to hiin." 

'►Tes, indeed, I'll risk my fate in his hands. He'll bring us 
through, my word for that." 

Just then a shell came whizzing by, and exploded at no great 
distance from where they lay. It did no damage. 

'• They won't let us sleep a wink to-night, Charley. I do wish 
they would cease firing until daylight." 

"But I must sleep, John, if they do shell us, and so must you. 
We won't be able to fight to-morrow if we don't. We must take 
our chances— no use trying to escape." 

The two selected as comfortable a posture as was possible, and 
fell into a slumber, from which they were frequently aroused by 
the passage of a ball or shell, as it swept onward.^ 

The long and dreary night passed away, and uiorning came all 
too soon for those weary men, who, worn out with the fierce con- 
test, lay sleeping in the uncovered pits, while the sleet and snow- 
fell thick and fast upon them. ^ ^ , , i 
At the tap of the drum they sprang from their fitful sleep, and 
seized their arms. Their hearts were brave, and they longed 
again to meet the baffled foe. There he lay, with his gigantic 
numbers, within view of the fort, but as yet manifested no signs 
of renewing the attack. Our men, after vainly waiting some time 
for his advance, snatched a hasty meal, and immediately placed 
themselves again in line of battle. There they stood in the 
trenches, through the long, dread hours, the mud and ice-water 
up to their knees, expecting every moment the presence of tho 
foemen. But nothing was heard from him through the morning, 
save the shells which he unceasingly threw into the fort. 


But he was not idle. A plan for an attack by tlie gunboats 
■was being arranged, and meanwhile large reinforcements were 
landed from transport.-, which everywhere lined the river below 
the fort. 

Their plans were fully comprehended by General Buckner, who, 
in a council of general officers called during the morning, advised 
that an immediate etfort should be made by the garrison to cut its 
way out, while the enemy, prostrated by the defeat of the previ- 
ous day, was comparjitively helpless, and before the reinforce- 
ments, fifteen tliousand strong, should disembark. The proposi- 
tion was assented to by all present. General Buckner proposed 
to cover the retreat of the army with -his division, in the event 
the attempt should prove a success. The tnjops were drawn out, 
and every preparation made, both by Generals Buckner and Pil- 
low, to execute the movement, when, to the surprise of the former 
general, the order was countermanded by General Floyd, influ- 
enced to the decision by the unwise council of General Pillow, 
who alleged the lateness of the hour as a reason for the aban- 
donment of the plan. 

Early in the afternoon the gunboats were observed to be 
advancing to attack the river batteries, and at three o'clock a 
vigorous fire was issued from five boats, approaching in echelon^ 
throwing shot into the fort as they moved slowly and majestically 

The gunners waited until the advance boats were within effect- 
ive range of our guns. Then, at a signal, every gun, twelve in 
cumber, belched forth its missile of destruction and death. 

Still, amid the dreadful storm of shot and shell the defiant fleet 
moves on, confident in its strength, until it approaches within 
a few hundred yards of the fort. For a nioment the guns are 
silent; then, in tones louder than Vesuvius's dread voice, they pour 
forth their deafening roar, and the fiery death-weapons speed on 
their unerring course. 

Higher and higher swelled the tumult — dreadful and more 
dreadful grew the fierce conflict. The gi-ound shook as with the 
throes of an earthquake. The air resounded for miles with the 
bellowings of the death-dealing guns. The heavens were shut 
out by the clouds of dense, black smoke. Shells crossed and 
recrossed each other at every conceivable angle ; those of the fort 
plunging into the river with fearful rapidity, sending the white 
spray high in air, or striking against the iron sides of some vessel, 
would make it creak and quiver through every timber. 


Tlie five boats respond with equal energy ; and a sixth, some- 
what modestly in the rear of the others, sends her conical shot at 
rajjid intervals into the fort. 

Now the leaden conflict rages with renewed vigor ; shell and 
shot i)our like rain over every thing. See ! the Essex, mistress of 
the fleet, reels and plunges— she is struck, disabled. She pauses 
for a moment, then turning about, retires from the scene. 

The gunners of the fort point their guns with precision. Then 
bursts forth a wild and stunning explosion. Another boat is 
pierced in her iron casements, and her timbers creak and crash 
and splinter in the air. A few mf)ments later, and another is 
struck, which makes her metal sides ring. Her guns are silenced. 
She writhes and quivers like some dread monster in his death 
throes, and is withdrawn from the conflict. 

The remaining boats kept up a rapid tire. The batteries fail to 
respond. Ah, they are at last silenced. The foe has triumphed 
amid his destruction. But the delusion lasts but for a moment. 
A fearful shock rends the air, as a broadside from the fort pours 
into the two remaining boats, and sends them reeling and drifting 
down the stream. 

The foe is vanquished— his fleet crippled. Shout after shout, 
long, loud, victorious, rings forth on the cold winter air, as the 
men behold the haughty foe driven from his unholy undertaking. 
Two davs had passed, and yet the-^arrison, famished, freezing, 
overcome bv incessant duty, held out. Yea, far more ; they had 
repulsed the hosts of the enemy on Ijind, and shattered his mighty 

fleet. . , ., 

It was night, cold, freezing, rayless. The weary men again laid 
themselves down on their arms in the wet and muddy trenches, 
to snatch what sleep they could. 

At headquarters, Generals Floyd, Pillow, and Buckner sat in 
grave consultation. • The question was, '^ what should be done on 
the following day ?" Should the garrison remain in the intrench- 
ments, and attempt to vanquish the attacking foe, or should they 
endeavor to cut their way out, and fall back on Nashville? It was 
known that throughout the day heavy reinforcements had been 
received bv the enemv, and that he had so disposed himselt as 
even now to almost completely envelop the fort. His gunboats 
would command the river, thei-eby cutting off all reinforcements 
and supplies from Cumberland city. The question was a serious 
one,'and required grave consideration. The men were greatly 
exhausted through tighiing and loss ot sleep, and it was telt that 


unless they could be relieved by fre>h troops, it would be impos- 
sible for them to hold out more tluiri one day k)nger. 

The question was fully <lebated. Each general unreservedly 
expressed his opinion. At length it was determined that the gar- 
rison, if it were possible, should cut its way out, and thus attempt 
to gain the open country south of the fort. 

It was a fearful alternative for men weary, hungry, stiff with 
cold, their clothes frozen to their bodies, many of them with 
inferior guns, to make their passage through quadruple their num- 
ber of fresh troops, well-armed, and supported by heavy batteries 
and gunboats. Yet, desperate as it was, it was the only thing left 
for those brave men to do. 

Well may we stand aghast, and our hearts cease their beatings 
while we contemplate the dreadful picture. 

It was agreed in general council that at daylight the next 
morning General Pillow should attack the right wing of the 
enemy, resting on the river, while General Buckner, with his 
forces, should make an effort to drive him back on the Winn's 
Ferry road ; and, if successful in the attempt, the two forces were 
to unite and pursue their way through the open country south- 
ward towards Nashville. 

Confident of success on the following morning, the enemy, hav- 
ing disposed his forces, rested quietly through the night. He felt 
that his victim was immeshed, and he could, at his leisure, over- 
come and destroy it. 



Saturday's fight. 

The morning came, cold and dreary. At an early hour the 
men were called from their sleepless night in the trenches, to 
prepare for the day's conflict. Ah, and such a conflict the world 
has rarely ever witnessed. Brave men of Donelson, honor, ever- 
lasting honor must needs be your meed from a grateful and ad- 
mirmg nation! And when you have passed away, and we, hav- 
ing conquered this bloody struggle, shall stand forth a tree, happy, 
and prosperous people, to have fought at Conelson wdl be a 
nobler fame than to have conquered on the battle-plains of 

At the signal the men seized their arms, fell mto line, and tol- 
h)wing thefr leaders pressed forward to the carnage. General 
Pillow marched upon the right wing of the enemy, whom he found 
in advance of his encampment, ready to receive bim. And now 
came one of the most sanguinary struggles recorded m the annals 

of any war. 

The Confederates, whose watchword was victory or death, 
drove upon the mighty foe, standing volley after volley into his 
serried ranks, everywhere dealing death and ruin. But the enemy, 
confident in his numbers, replied with courage and determina- 
tion; and as quickly as his hues were thinned they were filled up 
with fresh forces. On pressed the garrison, to triumph or the 
grave— they cared but little which, as they confronted the vile 
invader of their soil. 

Stubbornly were their fierce onsets met, the sullen foe fight- 
ing with unwonted valor. Charge succeeded charge, as fiercer 
and fiercer grew the bloody strife. The thick ranks of the foe 
were thinned but to be supplied with fresh victims for the slaugh- 
ter. , ., . 

The earth shook with the fury of the battle, while the air re- 
sounded with the roar of cannon, and the loud peals of the ntie 
and musket. The dead and wounded fell on every side, trampled 


to the earth beneath tlie feet of the onward moving columns. At 
length, after the most desperate resistance, the foe wavered. For- 
ward rushed our forces upon them with the fury of enraged mad- 
men. But tlie enemy was not routed, and as Xhe Soutlierners 
charged, they were met by a fierce and destructive fire. But the 
advantage gained must not be lost, and with renewed determina- 
tion the Confederates dashed on. Inch by inch the foe receded, 
contesting every step with fearful obstinacy. But at lengtli, after 
six hours' engagement, they were compelled to yi.ehl before the 
impetuosity of men figliting for their lives. The fiekl was won; 
and shouts that made the heavens ring went up from the victori- 
ous troops as they saw the enemy were driven before them. 

General Buckner, as was agreed, attacked the forces that were 
massed against his left. Desperate beyond conception was the 
engagement between this small band of heroes and the formidable 
hosts of the opposer. The enemy were stronger here than in 
front of General Pillow's position, and fought with a steady de- 
termination rarely exhibited by them. The contending columns 
swayed to and fro, as first one and then the other gained the ad- 
vantage. The fighting on all parts of the field was of the most 
desperate character. 

Never was there witnessed a wilder scene of combat. For, as 
rank after rank of the enemy fell before the furious onset, the 
doomed victims rushed in to fill their vacant places. On moved 
the garrison hke an '* Alpine avalanche," sweeping every thing 
before it. The battle-field was one of awful sublimity. The 
shrieks of the wounded and dying mingled with the roar of the 
cannon and the clash of musketry in one loud deafening din. The 
shells went through the air with sharp whizzing, as they sped on 
their mission of death. 

The foe was repulsed, routed, and the conquerors mingled their 
shouts and c'>eers with those of their victorious comrades under 
General Pillow. 

Tiie enemy was defeated, driven back. The plan devised by 
the council of Confederate ofticers had succeeded admirably. A 
way of escape had been 0])ened for the brave and gallant garrison 
by its own noble achievements. Quadruple its own strength of 
fresh troops had been driven back by men "worn with watching, 
with labor, with fighting." 

Unfading laurels will ever wreath the brows of the henoes of 
that memorable 15th of February, 1861. 

General Buckner's division having driven back the entire force of 


the enemy to llie riglit of the Wynu's Ferry roarl, leaving this 
route and ilie Forge road open for the egress of the garrison, were 
awaiting the arrival of their artillery and the reserves that had 
been left to hold the trenches, when General Bnckner received 
reiterated orders to fall back to the intrenchments on the extreme 

Surprised, shocked, stunned at such a command at such a time, 
and under such circumstances, he could not believe that it had 
emanated from the commanding general. 

To retire back to the intrenchments, and thus jdace themselves 
again in the power of the foe, and that, too, at the point when 
the object for which the men had fought desperately for seven 
Iiours was fully gained, seemed to him madness of the wildest 
nature. To fall back was the certain destruction of the entire 
Confederate force. To advance from their present safe position 
would be the salvation of the whole garrison. 

Galloping back to the lines, he encountered General Floyd, and 
made known to him the orders he had received. The command- 
ing general, surprised, astonished, pronounced it a mistake. 

'' Wait, general," replied General Floyd to General Buckner. 
''Let me look into this. Remain in your present position until I 
can converse with General Pillow." 

In a very short time after this meeting, General Buckner re- 
ceived orders imperatively to repair as rapidly as he could to his 
former position on the extreme right. 

Nothing was left him but to obey, although he knew that he 
and his men were going back to certain death, or inevitable 

Two miles of retreat were trod by the weary and now dis- 
heartened men. On nearing their intrenchments they found the 
right of their position already occuf)ied by the enemy. A desper- 
ate fight ensued, in which the Confederates succeeded in keeping 
at bay about five times their number. 

Night closed the dreadful scene. The enemy occupied the 
Confederate works on General Buckner's right, ready to resume 
the attack with overwiielming force as soon as the morning should 
dawn. The fort was soon reinvested by the enemy with the 
fresh reinf(.rcements received, as was shown by a thorough recon- 
noiscance made by Colonel Forrest. And thus, after three days' 
hard fighting, hardships, privations, and sufferings, such as sol- 
diers have rarely ever been called on to endure, after having once 
extricated itself, through the want of prudence and generalship of 


General Pillow, tiie heroic garrison was caught in the toils — 
doomed — sacrificed. 

A sad page in our country's history. Would it had never been 

Again the dreary night came down over the earth, wrap- 
ping in its folds of thick darkness that appalling scene of car- 

In a tent, there sat the commanding oflBcers of the garrison, 
grave, sad, thoughtful. They liad essayed the daring effort of 
cutting their way out, but found themselves, after a successful 
effort, back again in their old posiiion, and again environed by the 
■wily foe. Tiieir men had fought like heroes, but now they were 
exhausted, and could fight no longer. They could not escape 
secretly, for the enemy completely surrounded them, leaving no 
possible outlet. The command and position must be surrendered 
to the victorious foe — a sad, but only, alternative. 

Everywhere were the horrid witnesses to that fearful struggle, 
which, for nine dreadful hours, had raged in wildest fury. Men — 
dead, dying, mangled — horses, gun-carriages, broken muskets, 
cartridge-boxes, knapsacks — all the paraphernalia of war — lay 
scattered in one wild welter. Foe grasped foe for the death- 
struggle, and together fell clenched in each other's gripe, while 
their pallid faces wore the look of deadly hate which had filled 
their hearts in life. 

Three days of the most desperate fighting the world has ever 
known, had passed. The little garrison, completely overcome, lay 
asleep on the cold frozen earth. Men dropped from their position 
while standing, unable to bear up any longer under their dread 
exhaustion. Some of the little band had fallen on the ensanguined 
field, others were prostrated through fatigue and exposure. All 
weary and fainting, yet they never dreamed of yielding. They 
looked to the morrow for a renewal of the fight. Alas! they 
dreamed not of the humiliating fate that awaited them. 

Again in council sat the officers, this time more grave, more 
thoughtful than before. Death or surrender was now the choice. 
There was nothing else left them. 

Each of the three generals, Floyd, Pillow, and Buckner, had 
expressed his respective opinion. They were found to difi'er — 
General Pillow believing it yet possible to cut their way out — 
General Buckner demurring, regarding the project as one involv- 
ing extreme hazard and a useless sacrifice of life. 

Silence ensued. A scout was ushered in. 


"The enemy reoccnpies the lines from wliich we drove liira 
during the day." 

*'I think the man must be mistaken," said General Pillow. 
" Send out another scout," 

" I am confident the enemy will attack my lines by light, and, 
owing to the condition of my men, 1 cannot hold them a half 
hour," said General Buckner. 

"Why so? Why so, general?" interrogated General Pillow, 

"Because I can bring into action not over four thousand men, 
and they demoralized by long and uninterrupted exposure and 
hard fighting, while he can bring large numbers of fresh troops to 
the attack." 

"I ditfer with you, general," responded Pillow, nervously. "I. 
think you can hold your lines. I think you can, sir." 

"I knoio my j)osition," firmly answered General Buckner. "I 
know the lines cannot be held by my troops, in their present con- 

"Then," interposed General Floyd, "a capitulation is all that 
is left us." 

"I do not think so," was the quick response of General Pillow. 
" At any rate, we can cut our way out." 

"To cut our way out would cost us three-fourths of our men, 
even if we should succeed at all ; and I do not think any com- 
mander has a right to sacrifice three-fourths of his command to 
save one-fourth," responded the noble Buckner. 

The second scout entered the room. 

"The enemy completely surround us. Our works are fully 

" Send out scouts to see if the back water can be passed by the 

The command was immediately obeyed, two of Colonel Forrest's 
cavalry being dispatched for that purpose. 

Soon they return, and report, " Cavalry can pass — infantry can- 

" Well, gentlemen, what are we to do ?" asked General Buckner, 
on the reception of this intelligence. 

"Understand me, gentlemen," responded General Pillow, "I am 
for holding out at least a day longer — getting boats, and crossing 
the command over the river. As for myself, I will never sur- 
render, I will die first." 

"Nor will I," interposed General Floyd. " I cannot and will 


not surrender; but, I must confes?, personal reasons control 

" But such considerations should never control a general's ac- 
tions," responded the heroic Buckner. "I see nothing that can 
be done but to yield the command and the position. It is humil- 
iating, it is true, deeply humiliating, to be driven to surrender to 
such a foe ; but as we are, unfortunately, placed in a position 
where all the dictates of humanity require it, it is best, in my 
judgment, that it should be done." 

''I shall never surrender. General Buckner," responded Gen- 
eral Pillow, warmly. " I go out from here a free man, or die 
where I stand. I shall surrender to Grant neither the command 
nor myself." 

General Buckner sat calm, grave, thoughtful. He had been 
overruled in his decision. Should he fall into the hands of the 
hated foe, he had more to meet, perhaps, than either of the other 
commanders. He knew the sword of vengeance had been whetted 
against him by his enemies at home, who stood ready, whenever 
he should fall into their power, to lead him to the block. He could 
hope for no clemency at their hands. They had denounced him 
as a " base traitor," a seducer of the young, a " felon, whose only 
doom should be the gallows." He knew that scorn and contempt 
would be heaped upon him : that he would be made the butt of 
ridicule and low jest; would be inveighed against by the press of 
his own city, and held up to his fellow-men as a wretch whose 
crime merited the most ignominious punishment. All this he 
knew, and as a brave, honorable man, he felt that to die would be 
naught compared with a fate like this. But there were his brave 
men around him. 

They had fought with a daring never surpassed. He thought 
of their wives and parents, many of whom were personally known 
to him. Must he sacrifice them to spare himself this deep abase- 
ment? No ! no! ! He would save his men from death, and share 
their fate. Thrice noble man! Among the honorable names which 
shall make the page of our history illustrious, there will stand none 
more glorious than that of the hero of Donelson — the truly brave, 
the sublimely heroic Buckner. 

"You have decided against me, gentlemen, and I do not wish to 
seem to oppose you; but my judgment is unalterably against your 
proposition. I cannot consent to sacrifice my men in this fearful 

''Will you take command, General Buckner, and release us?" 


asked General Floyd of liini. ^'If yon decide to remain, find will 
surrender the tort, 1 will pass the coniniand to you tlirough Gen- 
eral Pillow. I am unyielding in my purpose to go out, let it cost 
what it may.'" 

General Buckncr exi)ressed his willingness to accept the com- 

Geiieml Floyd said, '' I turn over the command." 

'•*I pass it. I will not surrender," responded General Pillow, 

General Buckner immediately called for {)en, ink, pai)er, and a 

" Well, general, will I be permitted to take my brigade out, if 
I can?" interrogated General Floyd. 

"Certainly ; if you can get them out before the terms of capitu-' 
lation are agreed on," was the reply. 

The two generals made what hurried preparations were neces- 
sary, and gatheyng together as many of their command as was 
possible, left the fort; and when daylight came they were beyond 
the reach of the enemy. 

General Buckner immediately sent a flag of truce to General 
Grant, bearing the following proposition: 

" Headquarters, Fokt Donelson, 
Feb. 16th, 1862. 

''Sir : — In consideration of all the circumstances governing the 
present situation of affairs at this station, I propose to the com- 
manding officer of the Federal forces the appointment of commis- 
sioners to agree upon terms of capitulation of the forces and fort 
under my command, and ia that view suggest an armistice until 
12 o'clock to-day." 

To which Grant replied in the following terms, alike unworthy 
of a gentleman and an officer: 

"Sib: — ^Yours of this date, proposing an armistice and appoint- 
ment of commissioners to settle terms of capitulation, is just re- 

"No terms, except unconditional and immediate surrender, can 
be accepted. I propose to move immediately on your works." 

To which General Buckner responded: 


"Sir: — The distribution of the forces under my command, inci- 
dent to an unexpected change of commanders, and the overwhehn- 
ing force under your command, compel me, notwithstanding the 
brilliant success of the Confederate arms yesterday, to accept the 
ungenerous, unchivalrous terms which you propose." 




Weary men slept on, all unconscious of the dreadful fate that 
awaited them. Tiiey were dreaming of the battle-field and of 

Morning came. The black leaden clouds of winter hung like a 
dark funeral pall over the doomed fort. All was still as grim 
death, who held his dread and silent banquet over the gory battle- 

The reveille was sounded. Men arose from their death-like 
sleep and grasped their arms, to rush to the contest. But no 
sound of booming cannon met their ear, no warlike movements 
greeted their eye. 

What did all this mean ? Had the enemy, foiled in his attempt, 
withdrawn ? Surely this must be so, else why this silent apathy? 
They Io(»k out through the gray mists, and there, waving in the 
morning light, is the white Ji(tg of surrender. Soon the dreadful 
intelligence runs through the ranks. They are the prisoners of 
the hated foe. Never, never will they submit to this ignominy. 
Sooner shall their own swords drink their life-blood, than they 
become the scoflf and butt of Yankee vengeance. The whole gar- 
rison was moved as one man to oppose this shameful fate. S()me 
cursed the treachery of their commanders. Others swore to be re- 
venged on those who had sacrificed them. Some sat sad and de- 
jected, slupified by the stunning blow, while many a stout man 
wept like an infant, when he read his humiliating doom. 

Resistance was useless now. The die was cast. On came the 
Yankee conquerors. Strains of martial music heralded their ap- 

Silent in his tent sat General Buckner. His tried and faithful 
statf were around him. Tiiey truly sympathized with him, but 
they knew the vanity of words in such a trial as this, and they 
attempted no consolation. Each fully npproved of his course in 
the surrender. They knew it was all he could do, and every man 


expressed himself ready to share his leader's fate, let it be what- 
ever it might. 

Every thing in the fort was taken possession of by the victors, 
even the private baggage of the soldiers. The Yankee general, 
Grant, issued orders to the garrison to be ready for transportation 
to Northern camps. 

Cliarley — as all of his Kentucky copatriots — had fought gal- 
lantly under the leadership of the daring Hanson. Exiiausied, 
trembling in every nerve with fatigue and cold, he and young 
Lawrence sat beside each other, stupified under the consci(jusness 
of being captives in the hands of the Yankees. Silently they ob- 
served the movements of the victors, as they passed from group 
to group, demanding the surrender of the prisoners' arms. 

*' I have fought for three days, John; I have slept in those 
muddy trenches, exposed to driving snow and sleet; have gone 
without a moutliful of food for twenty-four hours; my feet are 
frost-bitten, and my clothes are frozen on me, but I would rather 
endure all this a thousand times over than to go to one of those 
Yankee prisons." 

" And so would I, Charley. But what can we do? We cannot 
.help ourselves. It's all that is left us now. Look at that das- 
tardly pack of thieves. See, they are demanding Bob's n)oney. 
They have taken his arras from him, and now they will rob him. 
But he'll not give it up. Listen, he is cursing them ; and see, 
they cower before him — and two to one — and he a prisoner with- 
out arms."' 

" Let's break our guns, John. I can never yield mine to the 
■wretches. I feel it would be an eternal disgrace." 

"Agreed, Charley. But we'll have to be quick about it. 
They'll be upon us directly." 

The two stepped behind a tent, and battering their arms as well 
as tiiey could, threw them into a ditch. 

"There," said John, as he -dashed his into the mud with all his 
might, " I am saved that humiliation, anyhow. And if one of the 
cowardly thieves dares to insult rae, TU knock hiin over, if he 
shoots me for it the next minute." 

" I could bear this thing better, John, if it were not for mother. 
You know how bitterly she opposed my coming to the army, and 
I know she will be frantic when she hears I am a prisoner. I 
believe I'll try to escape. It may be that I can overtake those 
men who w'ent out early this morning." 

" Good," answered John, " let's try it. We can get beyond the 


iutrenchinents and secrete oui>elves until the army leaves here, 
and Mwiybe we can reach some friendly house where we can get 
shelter until we rest and recruit. I don't believe I can live 
twenty-four hours longer in this condition." 

The two took from their haversacks the morsel of bread they 
contained, and, having carefully looked around them to see if 
danger was near, they, under cover of the tents, passed the lu.-t 
trench and set out on their proposed plan of escape. 




As stealthily as they could, avoiding every-appearance of dan- 
ger, the two young soldiers moved on until they had placed a 
slight elevation between their position and the fort. Just before 
them was some underbrush. If they could but reach it, they 
would be safe. They paused and looked around, to see if any one 
was in view. No one was near enough to watch tlieir move- 
ments. Quickening their pace into a run, they sprang forward 
towards the covert. Like men running for life, they bounded on- 
ward, every muscle strained for the race. 

They had almost gained it, when suddenly a coarse voice called 
out, " Halt, or I'll shoot you." At the same time a squad of Lin- 
coln soldiers appeared, emerging from the bushes. 

Resistance would have been folly ; they were outnumbered, 
four to one. To attempt to elude their captors was impossible. 
There was nothing left them but to obey the command. 

With loud oaths and fiendish imprecations they were immedi- 
ately marched back to the fort ; from thence to the river, where 
boats were in waiting to transport the prisoners to their destina- 

Charley and his friend, young Lawrence, were placed on the 
same vessel with General Buckner, his staff, and tlie Kentucky 
oflacers. In this they regarded themselves most fortunate, for 
many of the Second Kentucky were hurried into other boats. 

The prisoners were taken from the fort to Cairo. From there 
they were shipped by river and railway to other points. Some 
were sent to St. Louis, others to Alton, some to Camp Douglas, 
some to Camp Butler, while others were forwarded by the Ohio 
river to Jeffersonville, on their route to Camp Chase. Subjected 
to every insult, treated as if they had been brutes, rather than 
men, these noble patriots, who had won for themselves imperish- 
able fame, were hurried by their vengeful captors to their various 
places of imprisonment. Wholly ununiformed, their clothes torn 


ia the desperate light, and begrimed with imid and powder; their 
coverinjTs of every conceivable character— blankets of all colors, 
shawls (;f every variety, carpets of various patterns— these heroes 
of Dt)nel-ion indeeTl presented a sad and touching spectacle. 

And yet such w;ui the brutality and heartlessness— such the 
entire destitution of every emotion of humanity in the hearts of 
these vulgar, sunken wretches, that they jeered and scoffed, and 
with low and cruel mockery taunted their helpless prisoners. But 
helpless as they were in the hands of a base and inhuman foe, in 
garb looking worse by far than their slaves at home on their plant- 
ations, they nevertheless remembered they were born freemen, 
and on every occasion they hurled back with defiant scorn the 
ruthless jests of their coarse and ill-bred assailants. 

Never, perhaps, did the superior nobility of the Simthern char- 
acter sf)eak out in more striking contrast to tlie natural coarseness 
and heartlessness of their vulgar foe, than on this memorable oc- 

General Buckner and staff, the officers and some of the men of 
the Second Kentucky, were sent from Paducah on board a steamer 
to Jefferson ville, Indiana. 

Among the privates who were forwarded by this route were 
Charley, young Lawrence, and another Keutuckian named Bob 

"I wonder if it is possible they will allow us to land at Louis- 
ville," said Charley to his friend, as the two stood shivering with 
cold on the upper deck of the boat. '"I^do believe they will be 
afraid to do so, lest there should be some demonstration in our 

" Why, Charley, it is a loyal city. There are no traitors there 
to make any manifestation of sympathy for such poor^ miserable 
wretches as we are^^ replied young Lawrence, ironically. 

"Could the Southern men of Louisville once catch a glimpse of 
General Buckner, and know for a moment what shameful humili- 
ation he has to endure at the hands of these wretches, they would 
rescue him from their clutches, if it cost them their lives. I do 
hope they will land us there, if it be but for a few minutes. I 
know there will be crowds of friends to welcome and cheer us; 
but I fear our enemies will not be thus kind to us. It would de- 
light them to tantalize Buckner, Cassidy, Johnson, Colonel Han- 
son, and all of us, by giving us only a farewell glimpse of our be- 
loved city." 

As old memories, sacred and dear, rushed to Charley's mind, 


he wept. It was the first time he had shed a tear since he had 
fallen into the hands of the victors, 

'•I am unmanned," said Charley, recovering himself, after a few 
moments; " but I cannot help it, John. I dread the idea of im- 
prisonment for this war. I would a thousand times rather take 
my chance on the battle-field. And to think I shall pass so near 
my parents and sisters, and yet not be permitted to see them! It 
makes me a child, John." 

Ah, and there was another whose name our young hero dared 
not mention. What joy it would have given him could he have 
felt assured that even for one short moment he should behold that 
dear being — should catch from those cherished lips one word, or 
from those soft, blue eyes, so full of tender affection, one look of 

Great was the excitement in Louisville when it was known that 
the boat bearing General Buckner, his staff, and the Kentucky 
prisoners would reach the wharf that day. 

The "Daily Journal," in each issue since the fall of Donelson, 
had heaped upon General Buckner every abuse that its vindictive 
partisan editor could conceive. Every opprobrious epithet that the 
language could afford — oftentimes of the.most indelicate nature — 
had been employed to make, if possible, his honorable name odious. 
Every species of torture that the fiendish brain of Prentice could 
invent had been proposed to be inflicted upon him by the citizens 
of his own town. He had been called ''infamous wretch," "'vile 
seducer of the young men of Kentucky," "'hellish murderer of the 
husbands and sons of his neighbors," ''double-dyed traitor to his 
government and State," "fiend," ''assassin," "brute." This Con- 
necticut-reared editor had said he ought to suffer, if possible, a 
thousand deaths on the gallows, to expiate his crime. He also 
proposed that "he should be shown through the city in a cage, 
and that loyal men and women should torture him with red- 
hot pincers;" that he chould be doomed to a felon's cell, and 
there shut out from the light of day, be fed on bread and watep 
until death should come to end his "infamous life." 

As might be expected, such things had wrought on the fierce 
passions of the mob until it was wild with vengeance. Threats 
were everywhere uttered against the distinguished prisoner. But 
General Buckner had m;iny warm friends in Louisville, men of 
true courage and high-toned honor, who would at any moment 
have sacrificed their lives rather than he should have been sub- 
jected to public scorn. This the cowardly editor and the hireling 


officials knew. And wluie lliey boasted greiit conteiiipi lor liio 
prisoner and his cause, tliey secretly fe.ired ihe intiuence of one 
and respecied the other. And while throuirh the medium of their 
perverted press they were deriding and abusing jjiin, in private 
cnucus, wheie the sulgect was seriously discu-sed, they decided it 
would nt»t be safe to suffer the boat to land, lest there should be 
some overwhelming manifestation of respect and admiration for 
tiie patriot and his fellow-prisoners. 

The boat was Hearing the city. It was believed, by those on 
board, that she would touch at the wharf. Their liearts leaped 
with wild emotion as lier turrets and spires, so familiar, shot up 
before their eager, longing gaze. The boat ploughed on again>t 
the current. Nearer and nearer they approached the city. With 
folded arms and proud and noble mien, General Buckner stood on 
deck, his staff around him. Never did men more bespeak the 
majesty of conscious right than did that silent group, as they stood 
there, triumphant in their defeat, sublimely strong in their appa- 
rent weakness. They were stigmatized by their deluded, vindic- 
tive countrymen as traitors; they had been the recipients of every 
abuse and insulr, the objects of malignant hate and contemptuous 
scorn. They were prisoners in the hands of a cruel and unprin- 
cipled foe. Tlieir doom they knew would be fearful — perhaps life- 
long imprisonment — perhaps a violent death. Should the cause 
they had espoused fail to succeed, in all future history their names 
would be handed down to posterity covered with infamy. This 
was the bitterest tliought of all. To an honorable man, disgrace is 
more dreadful far than direst pangs of dearh. 

Motionless and pale with anxiety, Charley stood leaning on the 
railing, lie was alone, busy with his own thoughts, which, to 
liira, were too sacred for tlie intrusion of his dearest friend. Port- 
laud was passed, and the lower wharf of the city reached, yet the 
boat kept steadily on her course. No signs of landing were to 
be observed. His heart beat wilaly with alternate hope and fear. 
He bent eagerly forward, and strained his gaze to catch a glimpse 
of old, familiar objects. The boat veered to the right, as if seek- 
ing the shore. Oh ! how his pulses leaped ! His heart quickened 
its throbbings; tears he could not suppress rushed to his eyes. 
If he could but see some dear, remembered face; grasp, even for 
a moment, some kindly hand ; hear the tones of some familiar 
voice; it would sweeten the bitter cup, gild the rayless gloom. It 
was a moment of torturing suspense. Street after street is passed, 
the wharf is in sight; yet the boat moves not from its forward 


course. The landing is filled with spectators of all classes, from 
the sad, sympathizing friend, to the vicious Yankee and idly-gaz- 
ing negro. His look strains itself as it wanders from group to 
group, searcliing for some one he knows. 

Will not some kindly eye see him ? shall he not receive some 
token of recognition ? Surely, there must be some one in that vast 
assemblage who knows him — some well-remembered lace that he 
will soon descry. But not a voice is heard, not a handkerchief 
waved. As fades away the brilliant mirage of the desert before 
the charmed gaze, and leaves behind but wild wastes and burning 
sands to mock the eye of the worn traveller, so died away the 
high and cherished hopes of the heart-sick soldier-boy, and naught 
remained to him but disappointment and bitter tears. The crowd 
stands motionless, gazing on the scene. The prisoners stand 
motionless, gazing on the crowd. The boat keeps on — on — 
the last faint hope is gone, and Charley's heart, strained with 
anxious desire almost to bursting, sinks, dies; and like the orphan 
child who sits itself down to weep under its crushing sense of 
loneliness, so the sad, disappointed prisoner, burying his face in 
Lis trembling hands, wept bitterly. 

The boat landed on the opposite shore, at Jeffersonville. The 
prisoners were hurried from the boat to the depot, where the cars 
were under steam to carry them to Columbus, Ohio. As they 
were driven along, friends from Kentucky line either side of the 
w^ay. Only a look of recognition, a low-spoken word of sympathy, 
perhaps a nervous shake of the hand, as some loving heart ejacu- 
lates a " God bless and protect you." This is all that is permitted. 

x\s Charley was waiting his turn to ascend the steps of the car, 
he heard his name pronounced in a soft, low voice. He started, 
and looked round. There stood Lu and Mary. He sprang towards 
them. The guard seized and drew him back to his position, not, 
however, before he had received the package which his sister held 
out to him. A moment more, and he was rudely thrust forward, 
and had gained the car. Through the open window he gazed into 
the seething mass before him. But vainly. Lu and Mary could 
not be seen. They were lost in the crowd. 




What a thrill of horror seizes the soul as this dreadful naihe 
meets the earl Synonym of injustice, cruelty, and sutfering, how 
black will be thy calendar of crimes, when portrayed by the ])en 
of impartial history to the gaze of an astonished world I Thy 
record has gone up before the tribunal of eternal, immutable jus- 
tice, and fearful must be the doom that awaits the authors and 
abettors of thy deep, dark wrongs. 

The prisoners were marched immediately from Columbus to 
Camp Chase, a distance of six miles, without a moment's pause 
for rest, which they so greatly needed. Like herded swine, they 
were driven into this filthy inclosure, there to remain through 
long months of dreary suifering, deprived of every thing like com- 
fort or cleanliness, subjected to neglect and coarse insult, and in 
many instances to violent death at the hands of their brutal 

The members of General Buckner's staff, and all the officers of 
Colonel Hanson's regiment, were detained here until arrangements 
could be completed to transfer them to Johnson's Island, in the 
bay of Sandusky. 

With studied cruelty the officers were proliibited from inter- 
course with their men, lest their influence might serve to cheer 
and console them under their horrible treatment. It was hoped 
that this measure might serve to intimidate the private soldiers, 
and finally force them to take the oath. But how mistaken were 
all such calculations! The men were actuated by the same high 
and patriotic principles that filled the b(isoms of their leaders, and 
were just as determined as they, to brave death rather than sub- 
mit to disgrace. 

It was a loathsome, disgusting place, unfit for the abode of the 
most wretched criminals. Filled with every species of offensive 
vermin, the mud knee-deep, in w^hich the men had to stand like 
beasts in the stall, with no room for exercise by day, and nothing 


but the bare floor of an open plank shanty, throngh which the 
bleak winds and driving snows had free acces.'^, to sleep on at 
night; their disgu^ting food doled out to them in such scant 
measure as wholly to fail to meet the actual demands of nature; 
without medicines or nurses for the sick; could it be expected 
that these weary, half-clad men could do otherwise than die by 
scores ? And, indeed, was not death a sweet relief to an honora- 
ble heart under such sad trials ? 

The men, in solemn vow, ])ledged themselves to stand by their 
oflScers and each other to the last extremity. Although separated 
from tlieir officers, and all conversation with them prohibited, 
they swore to avenge with their own blood any insult that might 
be offered to them. Men and officers were alike treated as if the}^ 
had been felons of the lowest grade, the steadiest watch exercised 
over them by the low, base minions of an unprincipled tyrant; 
subject at any moment to be shot or bayoneted by these infidel 
hirelings, yet they never for a moment lost the consciousness 
of their superiority, and of the righteousness of their cause, and 
never would they cower before insolence or insult. Such was their 
noble bearing, such their dignity, that even the stolid hearts of their 
guard were moved with respect and admiration. 

A few days passed, when suddenly, and wholly unexpected, 
Major Cassidy was taken sick. This officer, of General Buckner's 
staff, was a son of one of the oldest and most highly respectable 
citizens of Louisville. His father, having located in the place 
before it was yet fully redeemed from tlie swamps and malaria 
which made its first settlement so dangerous to life, had amassed 
a princely fortune. His sons had. from their earliest childhood, 
been the recipients of all the advantages of education and society 
that such immense wealth could afford. Major Cassidy was a 
husband and father, surrounded by all the tender endearments of 
)iome. But when the call came to Kentucky's noble sons to arm 
themselves in defence of liberty and right, l>e girded on his sword, 
and bidding farewell to loving wife, prattling children, and gray- 
haired sire, he nobly went forth to link himself with the cause of 
the South. He was with General Buckner while at Bowling Green, 
at Russellville, at Donelson. and in that fearful defeat decided to 
remain beside him, and share with him his captivity, rather than 
desert his general and his friend in the hour of overthrow and 
gloom. And now he was a prisoner, receiving with the others 
all the insult and trial that malice and fiendislmess could heap 
upon hiin. 


Rapidly he grew worse. At the earnest solicitations of liis 
hrother officers, a »lis[)atch was sent to his friends in Louisville, 
.'l|)()ri^inJ^ them of his illness. But his disease quickly ran its 
course, and before his aged father and young and loving wife 
coidd reach hini, he was dead. 

This was the first death among the ofl[icers. Its suddenness 
and niysteriousness gave rise to suspicions of foul play. It was 
said he had died froin congestion, but there lurked in many a mind 
dark misgivings as to the truth of the statement. The body was 
j)laced in a metallic case. Few of the men were permitted to gaze 
on the noble form now still in death. They could only watch it 
frym afar, as it passed through the outer gate on its way to its 
last resting-place. 

Each day new accessions were made to the already large num- 
ber of prisoners from among the citizens of Kentucky who were 
susi)ected of Southern sympathies. No age noi: condition in life 
was free from tlie tyranny of arbitrary arrest. Old, gray-haired 
men with tottering limbs, borne down with the infirmities of age, 
without any accusation against thera save the general charge ot 
disloyalty, were snatched from their homes and families by a 
ruftianly soldiery, and without a moment's preparation — in many 
instances not even permitted to bid farewell to their wives and 
children — were hurried oflT, frequently at the hour of midnight, 
transferred across the river, and incarcerated in this noisome 
prison. Young men, on whom depended the support of their 
helpless families, as they went about their daily avocations, met 
the bayonet pointed to their bosoms, and found themselves pris- 
oners in the hands of ignorant Irish and Dutch Lincolnites, who 
cured no more about the Constitution and the laws, in whose 
name and by whose authority they claimed a right to practise 
their outrages, than did the perjured tyrants at Washington. 

No class of society was exempt. The learned and unlearned, 
old and young, the honorable and the obscure — even ministers of 
the gospel — all alike were the victims of relentless hate and cru- 
elty. Will there not be a day of reckoning for all these deep, 
dark wrongs, and will it not come si)eedily ? Already the throne 
of the tyrant begins to totter; already, too, his unprincipled and 
debased tools begin to feel the coming storm of wrath which 
most surely will sweep them before it to ruin — fearful, irremedia- 
ble. An oppressed and outraged people will rise to avenge the 
high- handed abuses that have been heaped upon them by a base 
abolition usurpation. And when this hoar comes, and come it 


82 KAlDrf AND li(.>MAMCE 

must, for justice, though long delayed, will surely overtake the 
transgressor, ah, will it not be one of fearful inonieut? 

After a few weeks more, in order to effectually remove the in- 
fluence of the officers from their men, the former were transferred 
to Johnson's Island. The men were left in their loathsome con- 
finement. The daily round of life was but little varied. Now a 
familiar face would be missed — a few days more, and a plain pine 
coffin bore the body to the burial-place. Then a fellow-prisoner, 
for some imagined offence to the guard, w:is shot down — before 
the eyes of his friends. Then would the demon of revenge take 
possession of the men's hearts, and solemn vows, muttered through 
clenched teeth, would go up before heaven, to wipe out the shame- 
ful crime. 

As the spring went by, the character of the prison ground, 
which was a low, wet swamp, somewhat improved, and the men, 
to relieve the tediousuess of the weary hours, would sometimes in- 
dulge in a game of ball, and other such athletic exercises as their 
limited space would allow. 

For two months Charley, with such of his companions as had 
survived the hardships and deprivations of tiiat horrid prison, had 
suffered on without one ray of hope. They saw nothing before 
them but years of close continemeut, with all its attendants of in- 
sult, want, and eruiuL The oppressive tedium was sometimes 
relieved by the presence of a visitor, sometimes by the reception 
of a letter from absent friends, at others, by the arrival of a me- 
mento of love and affection in the form of a box of nice clothes 
and delicacies. But, oh, it was an irksome existence to men of 
spirit and daring. 

It was in the middle of April. The sun shone brightly down 
from the clear blue heavens, as if in mockery of the wretched 
scene beneath. Charley, leaning against a tree that marked th© 
beat of the guard, stood reading a letter from home. He turned 
the page, and there met his eyes a pressed rose-bud, and written 
in his sister's own sweet hand, these words : "This is sent you by 
Mary, Charley." 

Our young hero's face brightened into a high flush as he read 
again and again the charmed line. His heart quickened its beat- 
ings, his eyes swam with tears. 

"Why, you appear distressed, Charley," said young Reed to 
him, as walking by he observed his deep emotion. " Is any thing 
wrong at home, my boy, or are you so glad to get a letter that 
you can't help shedding a tear over it ?" 


"Nothing seriouji, Bob. It is a letter from my sister Lu. I am 
so overjoyed to liear from my friends, that I could not refrain a 
slight manifestation of w^eakness. It is the first I have Iiad for six 
weeks. And my sister writes, jestingly, of course, that we m:iy 
look for her soon to make us a vi>it." 

"Does she mention my sister, Charley?'' said John, who :it 
this moment joined the two. " I do wish she would come with 
Miss Lu." 

Ciiarley endeavored to conceal his deep feelings at the mention 
of Mary's name. He did not wish to prevaricate, and yet he felt 
unwilling, in the presence of Robert, to disclose the message. 

" Yes," he answered, after some hesitation, which seemed to 
arouse the young men's curiosity. ''Lu says perhaps your sister 
will accompany her. But, of course, John, the girls must be 
quizzing us. They cannot seriously contemplate such a thing." 

"■ Oh, if Mary has any such idea in her head, siie will as certainly 
make us a visit as that I shall shoot that cursed Dutchman yonder, 
if ever I have a chance. And you know, boys, that I have sworn 
b}' the eternal heavens to do this. I tell you, if my sister has 
made up her mind to it, she will carry it through at all risks. I 
do hope she has determined to come. I would rather see her than 
anybody in the world. You do not know her, Bob. I beUeve she 
is the sweetest creature living. Ain't she, Charley?" 

''Certainly, John," replied the young soldier, with quite a flip- 
pant manner, that he might avoid suspicion. " Miss Mary is quite 
a charming young lady." 

"Three cheers for Kentucky and her lovely girls," and John 
took otf his ragged beaver and tossed it high up in the air. 

'■''Three times three," responded his friends. 

" Come, Charley, finish your letter, my boy, and give us all the 
neiprs. You are selfish. When I received the letter from Mary, I 
read it aloud to all the Kentucky boys, and they enjoyed it as much 
as I did. What's the matter? I do believe you have got some 
secret, you blush so. Well, Bob, we'll give him time to read his 
letter, while we walk round a little. We'll be back this way, 
after a few minutes, to hear the news. We mustn't be disap- 
pointed, you understand." 

The two passed on, and in a little while were back again. 

'•What news, Charley?" asked John, walking up and putting 
his arm in his for a stroll. " All well, I hope." 

" Yes. The only new^s item is the pro[)Osed visit of our sisters, 
and this is so vaguely expressed, that I am not sure I have rightly 


interpreted Lu's ambignous language. So we must not too san- 
gninelj anticipate the happiness." 

The three passed on. Charley was silent. They continued 
walking for some time to and fro in the space allotted for their 

''Why are you so mum, Charley, ray boy?" said John, with- 
drawing his hand ;ind slapping him on the shoulder. "Some- 
thing's wrong with you. You act so mysteriously. Come, Bob, 
let's besiege him until we rally his sjjirits." 

"No need of that, John. Til tell you and Bob all about ir, but 
you must guard my secret as you would your own life, boys. 
Should I be betrayed, I dare not think of the result. We must 
speak low, the guard might overhear us. Come a.>ide by this 
house. We will be free from notice there." 

The three stepped aside, and reached a secluded spot. Seating 
liimself between them, Charley undertook to unfold iiis secret. 

"I have been thinking for several days of proposing to you to 
escape. I cannot stand this life much longer. I would rather 
die. And this letter from home, together with the shocking death 
of that young Virginian, has determined me in ray purpose. What 
say you, boys, will you risk it ?" 

*" Wasn't that a brutal murder," interrupted young Lawrence, 
*' to shoot that.poor fellow through the heart, just because he 
accidentally, and in play, crossed the beat? And that poor raan 
who was shot by that Dutch scoundrel last week, merely because 
he carelessly threw out his arm in the rascal's way. Oh ! I tell 
you, boys, I want to kill every one of them, from Abe Lincoln 
down to that old fool, Dick, that sw\sggers around here, with not 
sense enough to know how to carry his gun. Never mind; if I 
ever get out of this infernal place, I'll avenge all the murders that 
have been committed here. I here swear, boys, eternal hate^o 
the Yankees.*' 

"Amen and amen," responded his companions. 

" But, tell me, Charley," resumed his friend, " have you de- 
cided on any plan? Will you bribe the guard, or try to get out 
secretly ?" 

"Secretly, of course. I would never trust those wretches; and 
then, besides, I have no money. You know they robbed me of it, 
and they have never allowed me but two dollars at a time since, 
of all the money father has sent me." 

"They are nothing but thieves and murderers, the best of them, 
Charley. But never mind, the day will soon come when we'll 


pay off the reckoning. I tell yon, I'll never be surrendered again. 
I do wish to get out of this internal place, if it is for nothing 
more than to shoot the Yankees. However, boys, we settled this 
sc(»re with them at Donelson. We swept them down there by 
hundreds. But tell us, wbat about gettiiig out? I will share your 
fate. If you cm grf, so can I. Bob, what say you? Are you 
willing to risk tiie thing?" 

'^ Yes, John, if the platj is at all feasible, I am ready to under- 
take it with you and Cliarley." 

"i iiave no settled plan, boys. Several have passed through 
my mind, but there are difficulties in the way of them all which I 
do' not know how to overcome. We must not go before our sis- 
ters come. But hush, boys; see that guard yonder? he's watch- 
ing us. We'll meet again." 





Bust were the minds of the prisoners that niglit in their endeav- 
ors to hit upon some practicable method of escape. Long after 
the hour of midnight, Charley was canvassing tlie subject with 
deep and earnest tliought. No scheme suggested itself tliat was 
not attended with great difficulties. Even should they succeed 
in clearing the prison walls, what would they do in a strange and 
hostile country, with enemies on every side? And should they be 
overtaken, how greatly would their sufferings be increased ! But 
some risk must be run. Surely the object to be secured was worth 
the hazard. Tlius soliloquized Ciiarley to himself, as he tossed 
on bis hard plank bed. But after hours of feverish tliought he 
could decide upon no plan that appeared to him feasible. And 
he fell into a disturbed sleep, his brain haunted with visions of 
attempted escape, arrest, bayonets, and death. 

No opportunity presented itself during the following morning 
for consultation. The meeting must seem accidental, otherwise 
suspicion would be aroused. The boys w^ere several times to- 
gether, but always in presence of the guard, or their fellow-pris- 

Charley and John were busily engaged in a game of ball near 
the entrance of the inclosure, when their attention was suddenly 
arrested by the appearance of two nuns, who, escorted by the 
captain of the guard, stood near tlie plank gateway. Each nun 
bore a basket on her arm, and a small package in her hand. Tiie 
players paused a moment to observe them, but as such visitors 
were by no means unusual, they resumed again the game. The 
oflBcer, after having shown the sisters in, left them to pursue their 
mission of charity unattended. 

The two females were clad in deep mourning. Their closely 
fitting bonnets completely shielded their faces. Timidly they 
moved along towards the play-ground. Bowing to the guard, 
and handing him a tract, they proceeded hesitatingly towards the 
prisoners in front of them. 


As they approaclied, the ineii left otY their game to receive 

*'Some more of tlie sanctimonious sisters, with their little 
tracts," said John to a young Mississippian by his side. "They 
are very anxious indeed about our souls, the hypocrites. I wish 
they would manifest a more tender regard for our bodies. I think 
we have done penance enough since we came to this place to atone 
for all past sins. I don't see what more the veriest saint among 
them Could require at our hands. For my part, I am tired to 
death of their little books, and their holy advice, and I'll end the 
matter forthwith this time, by distributing the tracts myself. See 
liow gallantly I'll relieve them of their business, boys," and off the 
young man hastened on his self-imposed mission, to the great 
amusement of his comrades, who quit their play for the moment 
to note his success. 

As lie ueared where the two females stood, he observed the half- 
raised basket-lid fall from the hand of one of them, who fixed lier 
eyes intently upon him. He felt rather abashed to meet her ear- 
nest look, but he had undertaken his work, and would not be 
thwarted. He knew his companions were observing him. 

"Good-morning, ladies," he said, at the same time bowing very 
cavalierly, and tipping his ragged beaver. " Have you any re- 
ligious books for us poor sinners this morning? .We stand sadly 
in need of your tracts, good sisters, and are most happy to see 
that you take such an interest in our spiritual welfare. There are 
but few who seem to care for us poor rebels. But let me relieve 
you of the very unpleasant task of going round to distribute your 
books among all these graceless sinners. Just hand them to me. 
I assure you it will give me the greatest happiness to aid you in 
your good work," and he extended his hand to receive the pack- 

One of the nuns grasped it nervously. He started back amazed. 

"John, don't you know me — Mary, your sister? But hush! 
for your life don't betray us ! We have risked every thing to see 

The boys, who had been remarking his gallant air, at this junc- 
ture burst into a merry laugh. "Served him right!" "served 
him right!" exclaimed several of them. "He should have left 
the holy sisters alone, to pursue their labor of- love. Wasn't he 
taken back ?" and a loud laugh rang out from the amused be- 

Our hero stood for a few moments perfectly bewildered. Ho 


could not tell what to think of tliis strange incident. Could it 
really be Mary? or was some one trying to deceive him? The 
young nun looked hastily around at the guard, and seeing that he 
was intent on the tract she had just handed him, she stepped for- 
ward to the young man, lifted her bonnet, and threw back the 
snowy frill of her nmslin cap. The dark, auburn ringlets escaped 
from their hiding, and fell over tlie beautiful brow. 

John was convinced — petrified. He could scarcely credit his 

'' Mary ! Mary !" he exclaimed. " How on earth came you liere ?" 

''Hu.-h, John, hush, I tell you I We'll be arrested and sent 
away to a dungeon. Can't you take us to some spot where we 
won't be observed ?" 

''Anywhere, so that we'll be removed from the eye of the 
guard. So here is Charley. He must come with you." 

" Where, is he — my brother ?" asked the sister nervously, speed- 
ing from tlie door. 

Quick as thought the prisoner comprehended the whole position. 
He must be calm, or every thing would be lost. The game must 
be played, and played successfully. Commanding himself, he 
took a tract from his sister Mary's basket, and slowly turned the 
leaves, as if closely examining the little work. 

'• Your brother is with that group to our right, Miss Lu, but 
you cannot speak to him now. Tlie prisoners must not know 
who you are. It might lead to trouble." 

''But I can see him, can't I?" asked the young girl, eagerly. 
" I cannot leave this place until I do." 

" You shall see him, if possible.. But we shall have to be very 
careful. If you and Mary are discovered, you will certainly be 
arrested, and perhaps imprisoned." 

He mused for a moment, in deep thought, then looking up, he 
said : 

'* Do you see that house to the left ? You two pass on towards 
that, give pamphlets to the prisoners as you go, and I will get 
Charley and join you directly. There we will be safe to say what 
we please. But give me some tracts to hand to tlie boys here — 
that will divert their attention from us." 

The two nuns passed on as directed. John took his tracts and 
returned to the group. 

" Why didn't you relieve the sisters of their mission, John ?" 
the boys asked, laughing, and taunting at his failure. "Your 
gallantry died out in their presence." 


*'0h, they are rigliteou:? overinucli, boys — liope to get to 
hf'aven on llieir .good deeds — and attacli great virtue to distribu- 
ting their pamphlets. I soon saw tliey were bent on their pur- 
pose, and it was no use for me to offer service. But I succeeded 
in getting these. Come, poor rebels, learn to do riglit from these 
holy books," and saying this, he took tiie wrapper otF and handed 
them round. 

"Here, Charley, my boy, here is one that just suits our case. 
Tiirow down your bandy, and let's read it, I don't believe you 
want to learn your duty. Oh, what a wretched sinner you 

'' I'm tired to death, John, of these Catholic books. I'm a Prot- 
estant, and don't believe one word in their holy water, and pen- 
ance, and purgatory, and saints. I am just as g(K)d as any of tliem, 
and I don't intend to bother my head with them any longer." 

" But this doesn't say a word about saints and crucifixes. It is 
an appeal to sinners, and you know you are one. Here, look at 
this first page," and John whispered a word into his ear as he 
stood beside him. "■ Are you not convinced? Come, let's go and 
read it," 

The two set out towards the low, wooden house. 

'' Hold there, buys," called out Bob, who supposed they were 
going apart for consultation ; '' wait, and I'll go with you, I'm a 
sinner, too, and may be your book will do me good." 

Joining his friends, he proceeded with them towards the house. 
He was hurriedly initiated into the secret as they passed along. 
The two nuns were overtaken just as they reached the door of the 

" Here, this door, Mary," and the two brothers entered quickly, 
followed by the sisters, while Bob lingered outside to look out for 
any danger. 

With ditRculty Charley mastered his emotion as he beheld the 
face of his sister and that of Mary. He scarcely knew how to con- 
duct himself, his surprise and joy were so great. But he must 
not yield to his emotions — the' time was short, and he had much 
to say. 

Mutual surprise and embarrassment were soon succeeded by 
pleasant and joyous conversation. Kind inquiries were made for 
friends and acquaintances, and many questions asked about the 
changes that had taken place in the city since the young men 
left it. 

The fight at Donelson was graphically described to the sisters, 


and some of the horrors of their two months' imprisonment por- 
trayed to their shuddering hearts. 

" But, Ciiarley, why don't you get out of this wretched place?" 
asked his sister Lu, with tears streaming down her face. " 1 would 
rather die in the attempt to escape than remain longer here. I 
have heard of several prisoners who have succeeded. Can't you 
do so too ?" 

'• We have that very thing under consideration now, Lu — John, 
Bob, and I ; but we don't see how it is to be done. We were 
trying all last uiglit to decide upon some plan of escape ; but there 
are so many difficnhies in the way, it seems almost hopeless to 
make any attempt. John, did you come to any conclusion, or 
you. Bob ?" 

"■ None as to the loay. But I have made up my mind to go out. 
As Miss Lu says, better die trying than live here." 

" Can't you bribe the guards ?" said Mary, as she opened her 
basket, and turning up the tracts, drew forth a well-filled port- 
monnaie. "Here is enough for three, I should think." 

'' Hazardous experiment. Miss Mary. These creatures are so 
treacherous. One of the prisoners gave a sentinel a twenty-dollar 
gold piece to let him pass; the man, after agreeing to do it, fired 
his gun, and the poor fellow was retaken, placed in chains, and 
fed on bread and w^ater for days." 

"■Well, can't you climb over the wall, or dig out?" she asked, 

'' The latter is the only method that seems to me at all practi- 
cable, and I have decided to try it. The only obstacle is the dirt. 
I can't see what we will do with it. If left where it can be seen, 
it will create suspicion, and every inch around the inclosure would 
be thoroughly examined." 

"Why, the dirt — that's but a small matter, Charley. Put it in 
your hats and pockets until you get out," suggested Mary, 

" Capital idea, Mary," exclaimed her brother, springing to his 
feet. '*That's just the thing. The way is open before us. We'll 
be free, Charley, won't we ?" 

" But once out, John, how are we to get through to Kentucky? 
There we would be safe. But how are we to pass through this 
abolition State without detection ?" 

*^That is a question, Charley, that must be met before we set 
out. Mary, can you and Miss Lu solve this difficulty for us ? 
Woman's wit is always ready for any emergency." 


" Charley, we Imve a relation, Cousin Sara Lightfoot, living near 
the railroad, about fifteen miles from Columbus. lie is as good a 
Southern nmn as you are, and I kn(»w he will be glad to assist 
jou. You can go there, and he will direct you how to get 

'"■Ah, Miss Lu, I felt sure you could devise some plan for us. 
If we can get that far out safely, we'll certainly make good our 

As the quartette were thus busily engaged in comjdeting these 
arrangements. Bob suddenly thrust his head in at the door and 
called out, "' Guard." 

In a moment the two gay ones subsided into meek and quiet 
nuns, and with their books presented, were most earnestly urging 
on their silent listeners the necessity of giving heed to the things 
pertaining to the world to come. 

" I think these two young fellows are in a fair way to become 
religious," said Bob to the guard, who was an Irishman and a 
Catiiolic. " See how penitent they look, while tiiose two good 
sisters are telling them their duty. I have been reading one of 
their good little books myself," and he displayed the one John had 
left with him, '"and I do believe the Catholic church is the only 
true church, after all." 

'* To be sure it is, sir. It is, indade, the only thrue church, an' 
there ain't none beside it, at all, at all." 

The bait had taken. The man's ^ face lighted into a regular 
Irish smile. He looked pleasantly into the door, and without 
comment passed on. 

'' Here, my friend, you must read this most excellent work," 
said Bob, calling out to him as he walked off. "I know you'll be 
delighted with it." 

"No, no, thank ye, sir. Kape it yourself. I cannot rade." 

"And yet you are called loyal, you old fool, you, and are placed 
liere to guard me, when you know no more about constitution and 
law than the vile numsculls that put you here," muttered Bob 
between his teeth, as he looked after the ignorant old man, who, 
" clothed in a little brief authority," strutted on, as d la soldier as 
it was possible for one of his calibre to do. 

The mementoes of love, provided by the hand of affection at 
home, were given to the young men. Full arrangements for 
escape were made, hasty adieus given, and the two young 
girls, with bonnets drawn closely over their faces, sought the 


"We shall expect you at the appointed time. Success to your 
nnder taking," and witii meek, bowed mien the two nuns passed 
out, distributing their tracts as they went. 

Tiieir ruse had succeeded fully. Not a suspicion had been 
aroused, and the two girls returned to Columbus. 




"We must begin our work to-night, Cliarley. By Saturday 
morning we are to be at your cousin\s. Tliis is Thursday, and if 
we are entirely successful, we cannot more than accomplish our 
purpose. But' we must tell Bob about it, and see if he approves 
of our plan." 

The young friend was called in, and the matter laid before him. 
He indorsed it fully, and coincided in the view of promptly be- 
ginning the work, 

'' But, boys, we cannot dig out to-night, and what are we 
to do with the hole to-morrow? We can carry the dirt in our 
pockets, as Mary suggested ; but who will take care of the 

"We can put our dirty clothes over it, John. Yt)U know it is 
our custom to throw them beside the fence to be washed. This, 
as it is usual, will create no suspicion." 

" Yes, I must have a pair of new pants and shoes ; and so must 
you, Charley. IIow would we look, my boy, in your cousin's par- 
lor, with this garb on? And, moreover, this will be a good way 
to save our money. Bob, there, appears quite like a gentleman, 
with his new suit from top to toe." 

"I was fortunate, you see, boys, in getting mine when I did. 
They still have twenty dollars of my money ; but that's a small 
matter. The rascals are welcome to it, if I can only be allowed 
to bid them an eternal farewell." 

The three young men separated — Charley and Bob returned to 
the playground, while John went to make application for the 
pants and shoes. 

Night came. Under cover of its thick darkness the three pris- 
oners' entered upon their hazardous undertaking. In breathless 
silence they pursued thejr work, using only their penknives 
and three sharp sticks which they had fashioned for the pur- 
pose. Not a word was spoken, as assiduously they labored on. 


The earth, as fast as removed, was carefully piled together, 
to be placed in tiieir liats and pockets when the night's work 
was over. It was a tedious process, but the three prisoners 
applied themselves like men determined to conquer. 

The ench>sure, embracing several acres of ground, was sur- 
rounded by a liigli, wooden fence, on top of which were placed 
planks, at regular intervals, where the guard kept watch, so as 
to have a view without, as well as within. As with bated breath 
the three young men worked on, the heavy tramp of the senti- 
nel overhead keeping his lonely watch was distinctly heard. At 
first his marked footstep struck terror to the hearts of the mid- 
night workmen ; but as hour after hour they toiled on, it became 
familiar music, and it was only its cessation that awoke fore- 

The night was starless, which greatly favored their purpose, as 
it shielded them from discovery on every hand. 

Hour after hour they toiled on, never for a moment pausing in 
their undertaking. At three o'clock in the morning, as the first 
faint beams of the rising morn, struggling through the rifted 
clouds, began to light up tlie dark landscape, they carefully 
gathered ui) the new earth, filled their hats, pockets, shoes, socks, 
etc., threw the heap of soiled clothing over the opening, and 
stealthily crept away and secreted themselves until morning. 

Finding their weight of dirt burdensome, they deposited it under 
some loose planks in their sleeping-room. 

Early application was made for the new outfits that had been 
selected the previous evening. They were furnished during the 
afternoon. Immediately the old garments were doflfed in favor of 
their successful rivals. The remaining hours of the day were spent 
in sleep. 

It is ten o'clock at night. Most of the prisoners have retired 
to rest — some on the floor of their rude plank house; others, pre- 
ferring the open air to the noisome rooms, have thrown them- 
selves on th>e ground, with no covering save a blanket. The sen- 
tries are on duty. No sound is heard but the dead monotone of 
their heavy tramp. The stars are out to-night, but their radiance, 
Boft and mild, throws but a dreamy light over the scene. 

Noiselessly the prisoners arise from their pallets. Not a word 
is spoken as they pass on among tlieir sleepy companions. They 
gain the open air, and pause to look about them that they may be 
assured of their safety. Charley ventures first, the two follow, 
each several paces behind the other, so that if one shall be 


discovered it may not involve liis companions. Breathlessly 
they steal along like shadows iu the faint starlight. Charky 
is within a few paces of the outlet. The sentinel halts in 
his round and pauses to listen. Tiie prisoner crouches to tlie 
ground, and screens himself in the dark shadow of a house. His 
comrades mark his movement and follow his example. 

A moment more the sentry, reassured, resumes liis round. 
Charley glides back to where his friends are in their hiding-places, 
whispers to them the incident and his fears. Tiie tiiree crouch 
together near the house, and in low tones canvass the prospect he- 
fore them. It is at length decided to remain in their present 
position until the guard, weary with watching, shall slumber at 
his post. 

Eleven o'clock. They rise and stealthily approach the scene of 
their last night's labors. The sentinel no longer treads his weary 
beat; his eyes have become heavy with his night-watching, and 
lie leans upon his gun. Now is their time for action. In one 
hour, and the guard will be relieved. Before that time their work 
must be accom[)lished, if at all. 

The prisoners gain the spot, throw aside the heap of clothing, 
and ap|)ly themselves to the removal of the earth that intervenes 
between them and the world without. Tiiey work with silent 
desperation. A half hour more and the ta^k is accomplisiied. 
Who shall venture tirst ? The moments flee — there is no time f»>r 

John shall lead, as he is smallest. With difficulty he makes 
his way through. But he is at last successful, and stands out- 
side the prison walls. The two within enlarge the opening with 
their sharp sticks. A few moments more, and they are beside 
their comrade. Novel position — they can scarcely realize it. 
Once more at liberty, beyond the pale of that high frowning 
wall, which, for two long weary months has shut them in from 

They pause a moment to assure themselves that they are not 
discovered. All is unbroken stillness. The sentinel sleeps on. 
Thank G«)fl, they are free ! 

'• Come, boys, profound silence, as you value your lives. Follow 
me," and Charley leads the way thnnigh the buildings without. 
They gain the open ground, and set out iu the direction of the 




Rapidly as they could, and avoiding the city, the tliree soldiers 
made their onward way. A few miles passed, and they had 
reached the road. Following its track, they proceeded several 
miles at a quick pace, when, feeling that they were fully beyond 
the reach of danger, as their escape could not be discovered before 
the morning, they halted to rest. Hungry and weary were they, 
but they had nothing to eat, nor could they spare time to sleep. 

'' We must reach our destination before morning, boys. There 
may be Abolition enemies in the neighborhood, wlio would cer- 
tainly inform against us, if they knew we were there, and cause 
our arrest." 

"And then the girls are anxiously looking for us now, 
Cliarley," added John. "And I fancy we will not be averse to 
meeting them. We promised them, if we could get out, we would 
reach your cousins before morning. How happy they will be 
when they see we are safe !" 

After resting themselves a while they resumed their journey, 
beguiling the long dark hours with bright plans for the future. 

" We talk, boys, as if we were surely out of the reach of the 
lion's paw. For my part, I cannot see how we are to get from 
here to Louisville, and from there to our army," said Bob, whose 
usually hopeful nature seemed to have yielded to a certain degree 
of timidity, which prevented him from indulging in any bright 

"Oh, if we can but reach the city. Bob, I do not fear beyond 
that. All southern Kentucky is right, and every man we meet 
will befriend us. We will have to trust ourselves to the ingenuity 
of the girls to provide for our safety to Louisville. I am sure 
they can manage the case for us. Don't you think so, Charley ?" 

" I am confident of it, John. I would not hesitate for a moment 
to trust them for a release from Fort Lafayette itself. Their visit 
to us proves them equal to any emergency. It was a novel affair, 


really. Who wonld have tliought that those two demure-looking 
nuns, with their baskets of tracts, were our merry, timid sisters, 
come to plau our escape from prison ? If I were a writer I'd im- 
mortalize these heroines." 

'' Your sisters deserve immortality and fame, boys. I do believe 
we should now and forever have been in tliat miserable place if 
they had not encouraged us in our undertaking." 

'' You are right, Bob. And yet, what an easy matter it was af- 
ter all!" 

'^ And how sad a matter it would have been, Charley, if we had 
been discovered ! The fates were propitious, and the Dutchman 
was sleepy, so we made our way out ; and now we shall be bre- 
veted among our friends for gallant conduct and heroic daring, 
when really I do not believe our emotions ever rose a whit above 
selfishness." ' 

The three indulged in a hearty laugh over their success, and 
humming a verse or two of Dixie, they pursued their way cheeri- 
ly on. 

"Ihave been thinking, boys," said John, breaking the silence, 
" that if we could ])rocure a genteel coat and hat each, we might 
take the cars to-morrow for Cincinnati, and go from there to Lou- 
isville by boat. Wouldn't it be pleasant once more to act the gen- 
tleman and be in society?" 

" You are right, John. It would be deliglitful, indeed, to see 
ourselves acknowledged gentlemen, we have so long been treated 
as brutes. But getting the clothes is the rub. We are gentlemen 
now, forsooth, but unfortunately minus the cash ; and how to sup- 
ply this very sad need, I must acknowledge myself wholly inade- 
quate to suggest. Can you give me any light, boys?" 

*' Oh, leave that to the girls. Bob ; they will meet the case. I 
am sure they have discussed every possible plan, and I'll venture 
they have already selected the one most likely to succeed." 

The faint gleams of morning were just beginning to tinge the 
eastern sky. The pedestrians, weary and worn, were looking out 
with longing hearts for their destination, 

"That must be the house, boys, there to the left. Look! don't 
you see the light in the front windows? That was the signal the 
girls agreed upon, and surely we have come fifteen miles since we 
struck the railroad." 

Charley was right That was the house, and the two sisters, 
with Cousin Sam and his wife, were in tiie parlor awaiting them. 

Joyous was the meeting between the young girls and the «o- 



caped prisoners. Very little like nuns did the two glad young 
creatures look as they welcomed their brothers and their friend 
to liberty. A lunch had been prepared by the kind hostess, and 
never was food more enjoyed than by these three half-starved 
men. It had been many a month since they had enjoyed the lux- 
ury of a private table, and they declared that, in honor to their 
hostess and their own appetites, they must make amends for past 

It was very soon determined — for no time could be lost — that 
Charley, with the addition of a coat and hat to his toilet, should 
accompany the young ladies to Louisville, while his companions, 
under such directions as Mr. Lightfoot could give them, should 
make their way on foot to Cincinnati ; there cross the Ohio river 
into Boone county, where Bob had friends, who would provide 
them safe conduct to the city. Accordingly, the morning found 
the two young ladies, with their escort, looking quite a la mode^ 
seated in the cars bound for Cincinnati. The following night they 
were safely landed at Louisville. Here, to avoid any possibility 
of exposure, a hack was taken, and at that late hour the party 
drove out to Mr. R.'s. 

Words are powerless to express the joy in the homestead when 
Charley was welcomed back to its affection and comforts. The 
mother's heart overflowed with tenderness as she pressed him to 
her bosom, while great tears of joy streamed down her face ; and 
the father's soul swelled high with grateful pride as he clasped 
his noble boy in his arms, while the sisters and brother heaped 
upon him affectionate caresses, and were never weary of lingering 
near him to listen to the recital of his varied adventures. And 
our young hero, amid the happiness which surrounded him, forgot 
for the time the trials and sufferings of the past two months. 
Mary remained with the family to await the arrival of her brother, 
and her presence was to Charley as that of an angel visitant. 
Vows of love, long ago given, were renewed, to be consummated 
when independence and peace should bless the Southern Confed- 
eracy. There was but one shadow resting over the sunny scene. 
It was the sad thought, that hid itself away in the bosom of each, 
that soon — ah ! too soon — must come the bitter 




Beneath the old oak-tree, whose bursting buds were unfolding 
tender leaves of green, sat Mary and Charley. It was the last 
evening of his stay at home. To-raorrow, ere the sun should be- 
gin its daily circuity he must bid farewell to loved ones, and go to 
seek a life of exile and danger. 

The evening sun, declining low in the west, threw its golden glo- 
ry in long lines of living light back upon the earth, now springing 
into life and beauty. Fleecy clouds of white floated lazily through 
the azure heavens, catching upon their western margins the radi- 
ant hues of the departing sun; and as the eye looked up into the 
rault above, the soul could fancy itself gazing up— up through the 
4lue empyrean— beyond sun and moon and remotest star— into 
the glorious splendor of the New Jerusalem, whose sapphirine 
beauties beamed from out their far-otf heavenly home down upon 
the emerald earth. The evening wind swept gently by, kissing 
the grass-blades and the tender leaflets, and bearing the sweet 
breath of the lovely violet that nestled in its modest loneliness 
beside the field fence-row and at the foot of the giant forest-tree. 

Before them lay the city, its distant spires gleaming in the gor- 
geous rays of the setting sun, its busy hum falling on the listening 
ear like the dull monotone of a mournful dirge. Beyond it rose 
the dark blue outline of the hills which skirt the northern kink of 
the beautiful Ohio. It was a charming scene. One that might 
.invite the pencil of Claude Lorraine. The lovers had long been 
seated at the foot of the old familiar tree, talking over their pres- 
ent, past, and future, and sealing in words of love's own eloquent 
truth the vows long ago pledged. To their young and bursting 
hearts the coming years gave promise of joy and gladness. Yet 
over that radiant pathway there could be discovered, even by their 
inexperienced vision, the shadow — aye, the gloom. 

Why is it thus, that even in our most joyous moments the 
heart Is ever aware of these gathering clouds, which, though all 


unseen, throw their darkling shade over our life-path? Is it that 
the malediction pronounced upon our first parents, as they turned 
their weeping eyes for the last time upon their lost Eden, and bent 
their burdened step out into the unknown waste before them, has 
found lodgment in our fallen nature — is so burnt in upon the strug- 
gling soul of man, that he needs not bitter experience to teach 
him that the evil ever accompanies the good? 

As the dancing wind lifted the dark auburn ringlets from the 
passive brow of Mary, and kissed with its cooling breath her 
cheek, flushing with love's own holy kindlings, Charley gazed 
upon her with silent admiration. Tears started to his eyes, and 
his oppressed heart sighed heavily. 

Mary turned her eyes with a look of sorrow upward to his. 

" Why do you sigh, Charley ?" she asked in tones of tender- 
ness. " It is sad to part, but you know there is no safety here for 
you. They would take you from us, and put you in prison. We 
must bear this trial as heroically as we can. It is a deep, deep 
one, but there is no other hope." 

"I feel reproved, Mary," he replied, "by your words of truth 
and courage. It is not the parting — and God knows this is bitter 
enough — neither is it dread of the battle-field that thus oppresses 
me; but — " and he paused, as if unwilling to proceed; "but — 
Mary, pardon me, I would not do you injustice — you are young, 
you will be courted, flattered, tempted. I do not doubt your 
truth— heaven knows I do not — and yet — and yet — I cannot tell 
why, when I think on this, my brain burns, my heart throbs with 
the wildest torment. Young Morton — Mary, do not, I beseech 
you, trust him. He is made to win — and to deceive." • 

" Oh, Charley, Charley! how can you do me this great wrong? 
Why do you doubt me ? Have you not proved my love, and found 
it constant, undying? Am I younger now than when we last 
parted ? Did I prove faithless ? why should I now ?" And the 
young girl burst into a flood of tears. 

"Oh, forgive me, Mary," said Charley, tenderly, gently draw- 
ing her towards him, and kissing her burning cheek. " I do not 
doubt you, and yet — and yet my heart thrills with a strange 
emotion, when I think of the future. The form of Morton haunts 

"You need not torture yourself with apprehensions of him,' 
said Mary, looking confidingly up into her lover's face. ''Our 
love was merely the fancy of our childish hearts, a wild, foolish 
admiration for each other, because we called each other sweet- 


hearts. I may never see him again. You know he is s[)eaking of 
joining the Federal army." 

" God grant he may," was Charley's earnest response. 

The two arose,, and walked towards the house. In the front 
yard tliey were met by Lu, whose saddened face told of the sorrow 
of her loving heart. 

" Mother has sent me to seek you two. She wishes Charley to 
supervise some little preparation she is making for him." 

Charley, resigning Mary to his sister, who conducted her to the 
parlor, passed to his mother's room to furnisli any necessary sug- 

An hour later, and the family, grouped in the parlor, were dis- 
cussing the probability of the recapture of the two young sol- 
diers, when a loud and hasty knock at the door interruj)ted the 
conversation for a moment. The servant announced two gentlc^- 
raen. They were shown into the parlor. Mr. R. rose, bowed 
poHtely, and asked them forward to the fire. The visitors return- 
ed the salutation without speaking, and advanced. 

"It is brother!" exclaimed Mar}^ springing from her seat on 
the sofa, and tlirowing her arms around the young man's neck. 

'' Why, John and Bob, can it be you ?" said Charley, seizing a 
hand of each. ''We were just speaking of you. Didn't know 
but that the Yankees had you again ; we were fearful we should 
never see you." 

The two heroes were heartily welcomed by all, and many were 
the congratulations offered on their safe arrival. 

*• Well, Jolin, if you and Mr. Kted had sutYered yourselves to 
be again taken by the Yankees, we should have left you to your 
fate. Wouldn't we, Lu ? Couldn't turn nun again, and run all 
the risk of being discovered a second time to effect an escape for 
you." And Mary laughed one of her sweet, merry laughs, while 
she looked archly first -at her brother, and then at her friend, 
whose cheeks were suffused with crimson blushes, 

"Indeed, Miss Mary, I do not think we should be deserted by 
the ladies in our misfortunes," replied young Reed. '• You know 
it would be no fault, of ours, if we were even now within the 
gloomy walls of Camp Chase, instead of being here in this most 
delectable society: and I feel assured that you would again, in 
the generousness of your heart, rush to our rescue. Don't you 
think so, Charley ?" and Reed looked quizzically at the young 
hjver, whose eyes were riveted on the bright, smiling face of 


It was now Charley's time to blush, which he did deeply, not- 
withstanding his efforts to subdue his rising emotion. 

"Indeed, indeed, Mr. Reed, you are mistaken I" exclaimed 
Mary, animatedly, at the same time manifesting the embarrass- 
ment which seemed to be becoming general among the young 
members of the circle, "I advise you, gentlemen, to avoid, at all 
hazards, another introduction to a Federal prison, lest, unhappily, 
no angels of mercy should come to your rescue." 

"A word to the wise man is sufficient, Mr. Reed," interposed 
Lu, pleasantly, who had been silently listening to tlie badinage. 
" I am sure you will never again thus test our courage and kind- 

"But tell us, young gentlemen," said Mr. R., who was impa- 
tient to hear the young men's story, "how you succeeded in get- 
ting through to Kentucky. We have been in a most anxious 
state of mind, with regard to your welfare. I suppose you have 
had some adventures by the way — perhaps some narrow escapes 
from the Yankees." 

" "We feared that they had caught you," said Mrs. R., her kind, 
motherly face speaking more than her words the interest of her 
heart. "And Charley had decided to leave to-morrow, lest he 
should share the same fate." 

" How do you go, Charley?" asked young Lawrence. "I sup- 
pose you have some plan marked out for getting through ?" 

"None, John; I must 'trust to my wits. Several friends have 
suggested to me methods, but all of them are alike full of risk. 
I think I know enough of the country through which I am to 
pass, and enough of Yankee character, to make good my way to 
Colonel Morgan." 

"Ah, you intend to join Morgan, do you? John, that will be 
the idea for us. I am heartily tired of infantry life. And, more- 
over, we need the exercise and dash of cavalry-men to restore us 
to our former vigor. Do we not, young ladies ?" said Reed, with 
a polite bow to his fair listeners. 

"Most assuredly," they both replied. "Life with Morgan for 
health and fame." 

" But how do you propose to get through, gentlemen ?" asked 
Charley. "Now that you are so experienced in eluding the vigi- 
lance of the foe, doubtless, you can aid me on my way." 

" We go through like gentlemen, Charley," responded young 
Reed, laughing. "Do you not think we are entitled to this privi- 
lege, in virtue of these handsome new suits ?" he added, at the 


same time rising fri»in his chiiir, and displ.-iyiiig his finished suit of 
bhick clothes. 

"Undoubtedly, you deserve all the privileges due to gentle- 
men," responded Charley, looking somewhat bewildered at young 
Reed's manner and remark, ''but I fear me you will find your new- 
suit of black but a poor safeguard against Yankee watchfulness 
and hate." 

"Oh, my friend, we by no means depend on our attire fon||(iss- 
port through tiie lines ; only look to it to secure us the civilities by 
the way due to Kentucky gentlemen. We take the boat to-mor- 
row or next day, provided these officials do not have us in the 
military prison before then, and shall depend on our permits to 
secure us safe transit to Dixie." 

" Permits, Bob ; what do you mean ?" and Charley's look of 
wonder and perplexity increased. 

'•Oh, we go out as cotton agents, duly authorized. Here, ex- 
amine our papers, and see if it is not so," and Reed took from 
his pocket and handed to Charley some papers, which the latter 
took and examined carefully ; then, with an expression of mingled 
surprise and doubt, gazed up into the face of his facetious friend, 
who, with young Lawrence, was highly enjoying Charley's entan- 
glement. This last remark of Reed's had aroused the inquisitive- 
ness of every one present, and a look of curious inquiry rested on 
each face. 

Charley opened the permits, and read thera a second time. 

'• Boys, are these genuine ?" he asked, after duly scrutinizing 
them again and again. " Or do you design to attempt to out- 
Herod Herod?" 

''Genuine! of course," replied Reed, with an assumed air of 
insulted dignity, at this insinuation against his honor, and that of 
his friend. " Do you not see they are duly signed ?" 

" But, if genuine, how did you obtain them ? Certainly, you 
must have in some way imposed on somebody." 

" Why, Charley, my friend, have not James Safl:brd, Esq., and 
John Livingston, ditto, true and loyal men, who have endured 
long and dreary exile from home and friends beloved, because of 
theii^ardent devotion to this glorious ' Union,' 'the dear old flag,' 
and ' the best government in the world,' have not these patricfts, 
so distinguished for their sufferings, a right to the protection of 
that government, and a small share of its profits ?" 

This pseudo-panegyric on his own patriotism was delivered in 
such a farcical manner, that the whole company burst into laugh- 


ter. Charley shared the merriment, but with less zest than the 

"Well, boys," said he, ''you puzzle me more and more." 

"Do tell us the meaning of these oflBcial documents, and explain 
to us how they were procured." 

"Oh, do tell us the whole story," cried out several voice?. "We 
would hear all your adventures through Ohio and Kentucky to 

" Our hegira from Camp Chase was attended by no incident3 
worth the mention until we came to Cincinnati. We traveled on 
like two common workmen, avoiding every thing that looked sus- 
picious, stopping at night wherever darkness overtook us, behaving 
very much like poor men all unused to society — that is, playing 
mum on all subjects until we ascertained the sentiments of our 
host ; if adverse to ours, we declared lustily in favor of the glorious 
Union, tiraded aguinst the rebels, and after that played mum fur 
the remainder of the night. 

"If, however, we discovered that we were in congenial society, 
and this was our good fortune two nights out of four, we gave 
full rein to our powers of entertainment, related all our adventures, 
answered the many hundred questions propounded to us by our 
eager listeners, and in our turn gained all the intelligence we could 
about the Yankees and their movements. 

"Tuesday night, weary and worn with our tramp, we halted 
with an old avaricious Jew, just outside Cincinnati. We told him 
"we were from Tennessee. He immediately asked if we knew any 
thing about the cotton section. John caught his idea in a mo- 
ment, and, determining to make capital out of it, readily answered 
tliat we were well acquainted with all the cotton region of that 
State; that our fathers were heavy planters, and now had on 
hand a very large amount of that very desirable article. The bait 
had taken. The old man's eye flashed with delight under this in- 
tehigeuce, and he hinted his desire to buy cotton, intimating his 
fear to be found in Tennessee, lest he should be overtaken by the 
rebels. We cautiously proposed to act as his agents should he 
desire it, 

" His keen black eve twinkled with the joy that filled Ws bosom, 
aftd he unhesitatingly accepted our offer. He agreed to pay us 
a commission on delivery of the cotton at Cincinnati. We ac- 
ceded to this, and the contract was immediately drawn and duly 

" The next morning he took us to headquarters in the city, pro- 



cured for us permits and seeing we were in rather a sorry plight, 
opened his narrow Jewish heart sutHciently to give us a new hat 
and coat each, paid our passage to Louisville, and sent us out on 
our most lucrative agency. And here we are to prosecute our un- 
dertaking lii<e gerr'emen of the strictest integrity and highest 
business ability." 

'♦ Bravo !" exclaimed one and all, as Bob finished his^story, 
" you deserve a medal for your triumph." 
'' Or to be bre vetted," added Charley. 

" So you see our stay among the Hoosiers has rather sharpened 
our wits, and Bob and I feel that no emergency can arise in the 
future that will seriously trouble us." 

" And you leave to-morrow, do you, boys?" asked Mr. R. '' 1 
wish Charley would go with you. I do not at all like the thought 
of his setting out alone to travel so far through the enemy's 

'^Yes, sir," responded young Lawrence; "we shall take the 
first Cincinnati boat. This will obviate the necessity of renewing 
our permits. Charley," said he, turning and addressing his 
young friend, "cannot we devise some plan that will insure your 
safety with us ?" 

" I fear not, John. We should have to practice so much de- 
ception, and I should be so much more public than in a land trip, 
I think I prefer the risks of the latter. I shall leave very early 
to-morrow morning, and hope soon to join you and Bob in Dixie 
land, where, under the victorious banner of Colonel Morgan, we 
shall' avenge our wrongs and the wrongs of the noble fellows who 
yet pine amid the cruelty of Camp Chase." 

Sujjper was announced, after wliicli the family reassembled in 
the parlor, where music and cheerful conversation made pleasant 
the fast fleeting hours. Southern songs were sung by the young 
people, in which Mr. and Mrs. R. joined with that zest which told, 
in word and look, their devotion to the cause to which they had 
Yielded up their son. The hours tripped by with rosy feet. ^ Yet 
there were moments when the heart, leaving behind the delights 
of the present, looked out with trembling on the sad parting of the 


The hour came for the young men to leave, as it was necessary 

for them to be in the city, that they might avail themselves of the 

'first Cincinnati packet. With renewed pledges of friendship and 

mutual wishes for safety and success, the three young men bade 

each other adieu. 






The morning came. Charley was ready to set out on his peril- 
ous journey. ^Ve need not describe the parting. Ah, has not every 
homestead throughout the land witnessed the same sad scene ? 
And the heart has but to recall its own bitter experience to realize 
the gloom of that darkened household, as the angel of grief folded 
its wing over each stricken bosom. 

We would not invade the sacred sorrow of the young loving 
heart of her who was now called upon to yield up to the dread 
chances of war that heart's idol. It were sacrilegious to invade 
the hallowed temple where, mid the parity of such deathless aiFec- 
tion and the clinging memories of the years gone by, the beloved 
image sat enshrined. 

Ah, how very poor is all language to express the keen emotions 
■)f joy and sorrow that the human heart is capable of experi- 
encing! Ko analysis can do justice to the varied shades of feeling 
that move its inmost springs, and full often, even in a moment 
of time, give rise to thoughts and en:iotions that influence the life 
throughout all coming time. 

Circumstances light as straws are levers in the building up of 

Fired with a loftier devotion to the cause he had embraced, 
since by sore experience he had become acquainted with the in- 
famy and injustice of those who opposed it, inured to deprivations 
and sufferings, with a score of deep personal wrongs to avenge, 
our young hero left home a second time to engage in the great 
struggle a wiser and a more determined man. 

By the exercise of his ingenuity and daring, both of which had 
greatly developed under the stern teachings of the last eight 
months, he succeeded in reaching Gallatin, Tennessee. From here 
it was his intention to proceed to the vicinity of ISTashville, hoping 
that, as Colonel Morgan was frequently dashing around in the 
neigiiborhood of that city, he should be able to join his command 
without delay. 


Leaving Gallatin, he crossed the Cumberland, and was proceed- 
ing towards Nashville, when one morning about 6 o'clock he was 
accosted byH squad of Lincolnites, who imperatively bade him 
halt. His astonishment was so great at this unexpected meeting 
with the enemy, that for the moment he lost his self-possession, 
and before he could recover his equipoise, he found himself sur- 
rounded by six burly In<lianian8, who, seizing his bridal-Mij^nd 
presenting their pistols to his breast, claimed him as their |SBRier. 

Recovering himself, he manifested great surprise and indigna- 
tion, protesting against their act, alleging that they had no right 
to arrest him, an unarmed citizen, who was passing through the 
country on business of his own. 

They questioned him closely, evidently not at all satisfied with 
his story, and his answers, ambiguous and indefinite as they ne- 
cessarily were, fixed their suspicions. He was arrested, sent under 
guard to Nashville, where, refusing to take the oath, he was com- 
mitted to prison as a spy. And thus in a few brief hours were all 
liis bright expectations, all his joyous hopes, dashed as by the 
hand of some pitiless divinity, and he whose soul had panted for 
the contest and the fray, whose thoughts had dwelt but upon 
glory and revenge, found himself a helpless, hopeless prisoner in 
the power of his detested foe. 

All, how bitter were his reflections as he lay in his narrow cell, 
isolated from the world without, friendless, devoid of hope ! De- 
spair came to be a guest with him, overshadowing, with its leaden 
wing, both present and future, and the two sat down together 
over the grave of buried joy and blighted hope, to mourn uuavail- 

After a few days passed in this deep despondency, our young 
liero rallied, and, with that desperation that impels to the most 
daring exertions, he roused himself, resolving to escape or perish 
in the attempt. 

He soon managed through another prisoner, a young Tennes- 
seean, who enjoyed more privileges than did Charley, to make 
known his condition to some Southern gentleman of the city, who 
undertook to effect his release. His case underwent investigation ; 
nothing could be substantiated against him, and he was off'ered 
liberty on condition that he would take the oath. This he per- 
emptorily refused to do, urging that they liad no right thus to 
question his loyalty, and, uidess they could satisfactorily establish 
that he had compromised it, it was an insult to his honor to re- 
quire him to take any oath. 


This course of reasoning being by no means convincing to the 
obtuse minds of his judges, he was remanded to prison. 

Loathsome, beyond the power of words to portray, was the cell 
allotted to him. Filled with vermin of all kinds, with a negro on 
one side and a criminal on the other; shut out from the light of 
day, damp and noisome, it would have been cruelty to have ira- 
nmraiifi felon of the most atrocious character within its dreadful 
walli^ Added to this, the meagre exercise he was permitted to 
take was insutficient to preserve his health, and his food, of the 
coarsest and most unwholesome nature, was furnished in such 
scant quantities, as scarcely to support life. All he had undergone 
at Camp Chase was as nothing compared to his present tortures. 
He soon became convinced that without a change he must die — 
yet he would not take the oath. 

Charley had been in prison about a week, when one morning 
early he was suddenly aroused by a noise in front of his cell. 
Starting to his feet, he peered through the iron bars of his grate, 
to endeavor to ascertain the cause. 

By the flickering light of the lamp, he saw a young man forced 
along by two of the guard, who held him on either side. He was 
tall, handsome, and wore the defiant look of one who had made 
up his mind never to yield. The prisoner was dressed in citizen's 
garb, but his sun-browned brow and military air bespoke him a 

With a brutal oath he was rudely thrust by the coarse, unfeel- 
ing men into the second cell from Charley. 

''"Who can this be?" soliloquized Charley, as he threw himself 
back upon his iron bed, and passed his hand over his forehead, 
as if to collect his scattered thoughts. " He cannot be a convict? 
No, no. That fine face, and manly form, and air of hauteur, can 
belong to none other than a gentleman. How defiantly he scowl- 
ed on the guard that bore him along. There is spirit not to be 
subdued in that breast. The true, genuine soul that defies time 
and circumstance, and acknowledges no conqueror but death, I 
almost fancy I have seen that face before, and that proud form 
looks strangely familiar. He must be a Kentuckian — one of Mor- 
gan's men. Looks something like Colonel Morgan himself — so 
brave, so noble, so daring. Can it be he ? Oh, no ; he would die 
first. I do wish I knew who it is. I'll make his acquaintance the 
tirst opportunity. "Wonder if he would take that oath — that tile^ 
detestable oath / I'm sure he will not. No one with that look 
would ever subrnft to such degradation ! So we shall be fellow- 


prisoners for a long time. Perhaps" — and Charley shuddered 
at the dark tht)nght — " [lerhaps i'ov life. We may both die in this 
horrid place." 

Charley made his plain toilet with a degree of animation he had 
never before felt since he entered that dark and noisome abode. 
While he was thus engaged, a strain of music arrested his atten- 
tion, lie pressed his ear close to the iron bars to catch the 
words — 

" Awake and to horse, rny brothers — 
Look up to the risincr sun. 
And ask of the God that shines there, 
If deeds like these shall be done?" 

He listened. The thrilling words were repeated. The voice 
was clear and musical, and, although somewhat subdued, the ex- 
pression bespoke the strong, deep feeling of the heart that gave 
utterance to the stirring words. 

'• Hush your singing there, fellow, and behave yourself," said 
the guard, in a coarse, gruff tone, as he passed by. The music 
ceased. Charley fancied he heard a suppressed oath. But he was 
mistaken. The dark vow of vengeance was uttered only by the 
bursting heart. It needed not words to give it strength of pur- 
pose or remembrance. 

*' I go from here at all hazards. I go to be avenged. This insult 
shall be atoned for by blood." 

Thus vowed the prisoner, as, with fury-lit eyes and elevated 
hands, he stood beside his barred door, and looked upon the wretch 
who had insulted him. And fearfully has that vow been kept. 
Beside the low Muskingum, where the evening winds wail through 
the forest-trees a sad requiem for the slain, in the desolate cottage 
sits the lone widow, with her three little children, mourning over 
the lost husband. She knows not where he lies. But this she 
has heard, " He was killed by one of Morgan's men." 




At breakfast the two prisoners met. Glances were exchanged. 
It was enough. They understood each other, and as they filed 
out, Cliarley touched the young man on the shoulder, and wliis- 
pered " Southern?" 

A slight nod of the head, and a smile was the only reph'. 

"Meet me in tlie courtyard," Charley said, in an undertone; 
"I want to talk with you." 

It was several days before the proposed interview took place, 
for at first the young man was not permitted to leave his cell, ex- 
cept to come to his meals. In the mean time Charley had learned, 
from snatches of conversation in going to and from the table, 
that the. prisoner was one of Morgan's men, caught within the 
Federal lines. But as he was in civilian's garb when arrested, 
and not known to any one in Nashville, it was not likely his 
punishment would be any thing more than imprisonment. 

At length, after a week's close confinement, the young man was 
permitted to walk in the open court with the other political pris- 

The first opportunity that offered for conversation was eagerly 
seized upon by the two Kentuckians, to inquire into the past his- 
tory of each other, and lay plans for future action. 

" I came out from Kentucky last September with Colonel Mor- 
gan, and have been with him since until a few weeks ago," replied 
the young man to Charley's interrogatory. 

" Then we have met before. I, too, was in 'Camp Secret,' and 
came through witli that fearful expedition to Green River. There 
I joined Colonel Hanson's regiment — " 

"And were taken prisoner at Donelson?" interrupted the lis- 
tener, eagerly. 

"Yes, and sent with others to Camp Chase." 

"And escaped from prison ? How did you succeed in doing it, 


and how came you iiere f' ^l^ked the yuiiiig iiuui, hurriedly, his 
face hrightening with the iuterest he felt in the fate of his new 

Charley briefly and graphically recounted his story. His com- 
panion listened with breatidess attention. 

"Quite an adventure, indeed. You are already a hero. How 
unfortunate that after all your trials, and your successful escape, 
you siiould again be taken and lodged in this disgusting place, 
lietter by far be in Camp Chase than in this miserable place. 
Surely no other prison-hous-e in all the range of Yankeedom caa 
be as horrid as this !" 

'' That is wretched enough, I as?ure you, but this is far worse. 
I)Ut I find the same brutality and coarseness ciiaracterize their 
otticers and guard everywhere; in this respect I discover no dif- 

"Can this be so? I had supposed that on their own soil, re- 
moved from any apprehension of danger, and free from the pro- 
voking influences of daily contact with Southern people, they 
would manifest some degree of humanity. I know they are every- 
where cold, heartless, and overbearing; but I thought they must 
be more brutal here than there." 

" No better there than here. Vulgarity, coarseness, I might 
say fiendishness, are each day experienced by the prisoners at 
Camp Chase, and there remains to them no redress. I will give 
you an illustration of their savage cruelty in one of the most 
heartless incidents that ever blackened the record of any people, 
however savage. It took place while I was a prisoner there. 

"A poor man was arrested in We^itern Virginia for alleged dis- 
loyalty. As usual, no charge was brought against him, save this 
general one. He was told that he must go to prison with the 
guard. ' To what prison ?' he asked. ' No matter to what prison,' 
they answered with an oath. 'You must go with us, and that 
right away. We have no time to wait.' It was night. The 
wretched man knew not what to do, for in the low bed beside him 
slept his three motherless children. He felt he must obey the 
inhuman order, but how could he leave his little ones without 
protection, without any one to care for them ? The eldest was 
nine, the youngest only three years old. An old negro woman, 
who attended to the children, was the only being about the house, 
and she was no safeguard against the brutal soldiery that infested 
the neighborhood. In his great extremity, not knowing what else 
to do, the wretched father besought his captors to allow his chil- 


dren to go with him to prison. The request, strange to say, was 
granted. The four were brought to Camp Chase. The poor man 
was placed in strict confinement; his children were imprisoned in 
another part of the ground. They were never permitted to see 
each other. With the most heart-rending entreaties the stricken 
father implored to see his children — only once. The cliildren wept 
and prayed to see the father. Day after day, week after week, 
were entreaties, groans, and cries poured into the deaf ear of the 
hellish guard. But all was useless. Their hearts were harder 
than the adamant — the permission was never granted. 

" TlTe health of the heart-broken man gave way under his heavy 
grief and close confinement. He languished on amid his dark sor- 
rows, and then died. In his last moments he prayed, entreated, 
besought them just to let him see his children once, that he might 
bless them before he closed his eyes in death. He was told his 
children were doing very well, but he could not see them. 

"•And thus, calling for 'his children,' his 'poor little children,' 
his 'motherless children,' the agonized spirit of that poor out- 
raged father went up with its tale of deep, damning wrong before 
the tribunal of the Lord Jehovah." 

The young man grew pale as he listened. "My God !" exclaim- 
ed he, springing to his feet and clenching his hands, as if in a 
paroxysm, " was there ever, ever such brutality, such dark, hell- 
ish cruelty. God in heaven will avenge that injured man. T 
swear by all that's holy, that if ever again I meet these fiends on 
the battle-field, the thoughts of that poor man's wrongs shall move 
my heart to do, and dare, and die, that he and his helpless children 
may be avenged." 

" And I have seen the guard shoot a man dead merely because 
in play he had accidentally stepped beyond the limits assigned 
him. And again, another was shot by a vile Dutchman because 
he carelessly threw his arm across the wretch's path." 

"And what, sir, have we to hope from such a people?" exclaim- 
ed the young man, clenching his teeth, while his face assumed a 
look of desperate revenge. "Call them brothers, friends? They 
are devils incarnate — fiends from the lowest pit. Never, never 
could I recognize them in any other light than foes, enemies that 
must be defeated, swept from the face of the earth. Oh, that every 
Southern n)an could hear that tale of cruelty, that it might nerve 
his arm in the day of conflict ! Blood for blood, hfe for life ! They 
drive us to it, sir, and I take the issue." 

The young man's face was flushed with the wildest excitement. 


His whole fniuie trembled — he started forward as if to meet the 
d.i>tard foe. 

For several minutes not a word was spoken. The resolves of 
that fearful moment were never ft>rgotten. ^ 

The bell rang that summoned the prisoners to their wretched 

In a few days the two met again. The conversation turned 
upon the feasibility of escape, and joining Colonel Morgan. 

'•I have heard of many wonderful feats performed by Colonel 
Morgan in the vicinity of this place," said Charley to his new- 
formed acquaintance, as the two seated themselves on some loose 
stones, beneath the shadow of the frowning wall. I suppose his 
daring is remarkable?" 

''There is not, sir, a braver or more resolute man living. I 
have been with him in most of his adventures, and such courage, 
combined with foresight and caution, I have never in my life 
witnessed. On one occasion, very soon after the Yankees took 
])()ssession of this place, few, about thirty in number, dressed in 
Federal uniform, under the direction of Colonel Morgan, swept 
round the city, and, obtaining a good position on the other side of 
the river, halted for a few minutes to plan an attack. Our object 
was to set fire to two boats which were above the fleet in the 
river, and send them enveloped in flames to communicate the fire 
to the others. As I remarked, we halted some little distance out 
from the city. Colonel Morgan then dispatched five of us into 
town to fire the boats. Uniformed like the Yankees, we passed 
along the streets unnoticed." 

"Did you do this during the day?" asked Charley, in sur- 

" Oh, yes, it was early in the evening. Following Colonel Mor- 
gan's instructions, we crossed the river to this side, the boats being 
at the main landing, walked leisurely through the streets, en- 
countering everywhere Yankee soldiers and civilians, gained the 
y^oint nearest the lower boat, which stood out a little way in the 
river. It was an old aff'air, and was left in the possessicm of negroes 
and three Irish soldiers. Securing a yawl that was near, we put 
out for the boat. On reaching it, young Winfield, from Lexing- 
ton, took command of tlie arrangements. We boarded the boat, 
and ordered off to shore the three Irish soldiers and a portion of 
the negroes, with instructions that they should be landed and 
the yawl brought back to the boat. Winfield ordered every man 
remaining on board to get into the yawl. He then proceeded 


alone to fire ihe boat at four difterent points. This done, he left 
the vessel, from whicii the flumes were already bursting, and 
jumping into the yawl, commanded the boatmen, at the peril of 
their lives, to row to, the opposite side. Before we reached the 
bank the boat, which was now slowly floating down the river, was 
discovered by the Yankees to be on fire. Great was the conster- 
nation in their ranks when this became known, as the fleet below 
contained many sick soldiers. We reached the bank, waved our 
hats at the afi'righted Yankees congregated on the opposite side, 
bade them adieu, and, finding our horses, returned safely to the 

"And did your plan succeed? It certainly was full of dar- 

" We have learned from the Yankee papers that the boat was 
arrested in its downward course in time to save the other boats. 
What damage they suftered we did not learn. A few days after 
this, as Colonel Morgan was riding in advance of the body of his 
men, accompanied by only two others, he met a Yankee colonel 
and his staff" trotting along very leisurely. ' Halt,' said Mor- 

"'I'll be d — d if I do,' was the reply; 'I have already been 
halted a half dozen times since I left Xashville, and I'll submit to 
it no longer. Who are you, any how ?' 

'"Morgan quickly drew out his pistol and presented it. 'Mor- 
gan,' he very quietly replied to the Yankee's interrogatory. ' And 
you are my prisoner.' 

" The Yankee made no further resistance. He and his escort, 
beside a considerable force which followed in the rear, were made 
prisoners by Morgan and his men. We were pursued by a heavy 
Federal force, and young Winfield, who was guiding the rear de- 
tachment, after having two horses shot under him, was taken 
Drisoner. The remainder escaped." 

"And where is he now ?" asked Charley. 

" In Camp Douglas. He was for a long time confined here, but 
they fearing he would be rescued finally sent him north. 

" On another occasion, about forty of us in number, headed by 
Morgan, dashed in upon their pickets one morning early, and cap- 
tured eighteen out of thirty. At another time, a few days after- 
wards, learning by some means that General McCook and staff 
would pass out on the Murfreesboro road, Colonel Morgan placed 
some fifty of us in ambush, at a point just beyond the toll-gate, to 
capture the Yankee general and Kis whole staff. The old gate- 


keeper, who had observed our movements, informed A[cCook that 
there were about one hundred armed men in the woods aliead of 
tliem. McCook soon became convinced of the danger, and put- 
ting spurs to their horses, the whole party proceeded, at Gilpin 
speed, never for a moment halting, until they reached the city. 
The gate-keeper paid the penalty of his treachery. The boys 
seized upon him and hung him before Colonel Morgan could inter- 
fere in his behalf. 

" Not long after this, General Buell was accosted as he went 
out from dinner on the landing of tiie hotel by a wagoner, who in- 
formed him that the next day a squad of rebels was coming into 
his (the wagoner's) neighborhood to procure provisions, and that 
if the general would send out some cavalry the whole force might 
be captured. Buell asked the wagoner his name. He gave it, 
and told the Yankee general that he would keep him posted with 
regard to the movements of the secesh. Buell, suspecting there 
might be some trick in the matter, inquired into it. To his sur- 
prise, he was convinced it was a verity, as there was just such a 
man living in the designated neighborhood who was a wagoner, 
•well known to the community for his honesty and probity. 

''The wagoner, who in reality was no other than Colonel Mor- 
gan, duly disguised, soon disa})peared from the hotel. After he 
had looked round the streets to his satisfaction, and heard all the 
Dews, he left one of our men behind to spy their movements and 
appwse him of the starting of the expedition, and regained the 
camp in safety. 

"The next evening the Lincolnites set out, highly elated with 
the glory and success that their enterprise promised. Just before 
they left Nashville, the man who had been keeping a strict watch 
over their movements, mounted his horse, and following the 
nearest route to our encampment, gave Colonel Morgan the 

" Immediately the colonel prepared for the capture of the whole 
force. The men were so arranged and instructed that the escape 
of the Yankees was impossible. On they came, dashing like 
mailed horsemen of the olden time, their clanking sabres and 
tramping hordes making the earth to resound with mighty rever- 
berations. When they were sufficiently ensnared, the signal was 
given, and we rushed upon their front and rear. Our success was 
complete. Out of eighty that came to our overthrow, there 
escaped but four or five to tell the tale of their surprise and 


"I cannot remain here in capdviU', while my comrades are cov- 
ering tliemselves with glory!" exclaimed Cliarley, his enthusiasm 
roused to the highest degree under the young man's thrilling re- 
cital. "I must go from here — go where I can raise my arm in 
my country's cause. But, alas! how can 1 get out from this 
loathsome place?" he added, sighing deeply. 

" There is but one way, my friend." 

'' And what is that ?" asked Charley, his face growing instantly 
animated at the bare mention of escape. 

"Take the oath. There is no other way to escape." 

"Take the oath !" lie exclaimed, starting from his seat. " Take 
that infamous oath ? Never — never ! Death, a thousand deaths, 

"It is humiliating in one view of the case; but in this instance, 
I have decided ' to stoop to conquer,' and I sliall take the oath to- 
morrow. "Were there any other alternative, I would not resort 
to this means of escape. But there remains to me nothing but 
this or death. I choose the former." 

The guard approached where the two were sitting. It was the 
same who had so abruptly hushed the prisoner's song. The young 
man recognized him. His brow became dark and knitted, and his 
lips firmly compressed. He gazed a moment upon his foe and 
passed to another part of the iuclosure. 

" Have you decided the question of taking the oath ?" asked the 
young man, as he encountered Charley in the long, dark passage 
that led to the cell. 

" Oh, no, no — I cannot. I was ofiered my liberty when I came 
here, if I would but swear to its detestable requirements. I re- 
fused. I would rather perish than do it." 

"I appreciate your sentiments. They have been mine; but 
my views have clipnged. Of what avail will it be to me or my 
country, if I lie here and rot, merely to gratify the cruel hate of 
these wretches? I'll take their oath, and then go forth to slay 
them; and in so doing 1 shall not feel that I have sinned against 
God, or sacrificed my honor. It is this or death here. They 
force i»e to it. I take what appears to me the less of two evils. 
They have proved nothing against me. They will not bring me 
to trial, that I may have justice, and they shall not keep me here 
to die." 

"You speak truly," replied Charley; "we shall have no show 
of.justice. I know that I must take the vile oath or die here, amid 
wretchedness and filth. I cannot escape — they will never bring 


me to trial. And yet, in view of all this," he added, after a few 
raoineni's pause, '' I cannot see how I cun take that oath." 

" I do not advise you to act against yonr convictions of honor. 
You must decide for yourself. I have fully made up my mind, 
and shall take the oath to-morrow. I think it is the wisest thing 
you can do. But you mnst rely on your own judgment." 

The two separated, each to his noisome cell. 




Charley lay in his dark and narrow cell that night, his mind 
perplexed with the question before him. Hour after hour passed 
on, the silence all unbroken, save by the dull tramp of the sentry, 
and yet the decision was not reached. His noble nature revolted 
at the idea of the humiliating act. How could he sacrifice his 
honor by pledging himself to do that which his soul detested? 
H<nv could he again meet his parents and friends with that burn- 
ing curse in his heart? 

" Had I better die a wretched death than cover myself with this 
deep infamy ?" he said to himself, as he turned uneasily on his iron 
bed. 1 do not regard it as a sin. God will not hold me responsible 
for saving my life by any means from the hands of these heartless 
tyrants. Oh, no, a just Maker will not condemn. Life or death, 
which shall I have? Shall I languish here for months, and then 
go down to the grave, while my country needs my services, or shall 
I accept the only method of escape that is otfered me, and go forth 
to vindicate justice and truth against hellish wrong and fanatical 
error? Here I can do nothing^ — in the battle-field I might avenge 
some wrong that my people have suffered, strike some blow that 
will aid in their redemption. Others have taken this oath — men 
of high and noble sentiments — rather than die, as I must do, in a 
horrid prison. If I could but escape; but this I cannot do, it is 
utterly impossible — impossible." 

Thus, until the night watches were far spent, did he debate the 
knotty question. Sleep overtook him, and found him yet unde- 
termined. He awoke from his fitful slumbers, which had been 
haunted by horrid dreams. He felt all the wretchedness of the 
low, damp cell, filled with every variety of disgusting vermin. 
His braiu reeled with exhaustion, his whole frame trembled witii 
feebleness, which every day must increase. He locked hastily 
back upon all he had endured, then forward to all he must yet 
suffer, and, clasping his hands to his burning forehead, he ex- 


clainiefl, "I cannot endure tliis! I will go — I must go!" It was 
all he said. The decision had been made, and he drove the de- 
tested subject tVoni his iniud. It had been a fearful struggle, but 
it was over, and forever. 

"1 go," he said to the young man, as they met at the door of 
the dining-room. "Ask me no questions, but make known my 
request with yours, and we will go out together." 

Let us kindly throw a vail over this scene of deep humiliation 
through wliich these two proud, honorable spirits were called to 
pass, and shut out forever from remembrance the narrow, disgust- 
ing room, with its low-browed, arrogant official, and his train of 
base attendants; the taunt, the jeer of the mocking crowd ; the 
burning cheek, the trembling frame, moved by the deep indigna- 
tion that heaved within; the defiant eye, the compressed mouth; 
the deep, dark oath which the proud heart took, while the lips 
were si)eaking strange words; the look of scorn and bitter detest- 
ation, as they turned to seek the streets — all this we pass, as far 
too sad to dwell upon. 

The trying ordeal is over. The two young men are once more 




" And now for ]^organ !" said George Irving, as the two gained 
the street. 

" But how shall we get there? You wlio know tins country, 
Irving, must devise the plan." 

"The first tiling to be done-is to visit a barber; the next, to 
obtain a disguise." 

•'But how is this latter to be procured, Irving? Every cent I 
had was taken from rae when they put me in prison, and I have 
not a friend to whom I would dare to apply." 

'' You mentioned to me a gentleman who interested himself for 
you when you were first committed. Do you know where he 
resides ? I would not for a moment hesitate to make known 
our circumstances to any true Southern man. I am sure such a 
one could not be addressed in vain," 

"Indeed, I cannot find him. I have no idea where he is. I 
saw him but for a few minutes, and did not so much as karn his 

" Well, w^e must trust to our wits. I do not fear. Let's seek 
the barber, and trust, like Micawber, for 'something to turn up' 
for our relief. Perhaps it will be better if we separate. I will 
go ahead of you a few paces, keeping always in sight; and as I 
ii:ive been here several times before, and have a pretty good 
acquaintance with the streets, I think we will avoid suspicion." 

The two proceeded, as agreed on, to the barber's, from whence, 
relieved of their hirsute appearance, they emerged so metamor- 
phosed as to defy recognition. 

They were walking leisurely along the street, scarcely knowing 
whither to direct their steps, when Charley, grasping the arm of 
his friend, ejaculated — 

'• There he is ! I am sure I am not deceived." 

" Who, y.our friend ?" 

"Yes; let's follow him." 

The two turned, and walked after the gentleman, until tney 


reached his business house. It wus the diuner-hour, and no one 
was in. They entered, and approached his office, where the mer- 
cliant was silting with one of his clerks. 

Tlie young man rose to bid them enter. As he encountered 
Irving, ho started, and gazed earnestly upon the visitor. 

*■' Irving!" lie exclaimed, "is that you?" 

The soldier, surprised to find himself recognized, fixed a look 
of searching inquiry on the stranger. A moment's scrutiny suf- 

'• Why, Arthur, how you have changed since last wo met! I 
did not expect to find you here." 

Introdilctions followed, to which ensued a long conversation, 
wherein the individual story of the friends was rehearsed. Every 
assistance that Charley and Irving needed was afforded, and a few 
hours found them with their preparations for leaving the city 
entirely perfected. 

Wholly changed in personelle, and provided with some whiskey 
to treat any pickets they might encounter, and a few trifling ar- 
ticles of trade, the two set out late in the afternoon of the follow- 
ing day, on their perilous search for Morgan. 

They elud%l the first line of pickets by crossing fields, thus 
altogether avoiding the public road. As night was overtaking 
them, they came, unexpectedly, on the outer pickets. Retreat or 
escape was impossible. They were discovered : already the. cry of 
*• Halt !" rung out from the sentinel. 

" We must trust to finesse and our bottles, Charley." 

" All right," and the two obeyed the summons, and with a very 
nonchalant air stood w\aiting the approach of the three pickets 
that advanced to meet them. 

'' How d'ye do, friend?" said Irving blandly, stepping forward, 
and extending his hand to the one in front. 

The Federal w\as an Irishman, and quite pleased with Irving's 
cordial manner, returned the salutation quite heartily. 

" An' whar is yer pass, friend ?" asked the picket, as Charley 
explained to him that they wished to go beyond the lines for the 
purpose of making a little money out of the secesh. 

" Ob, we didn't think it was necessary to get a pass — loyal men 
like ourselves — who are juat going out a few miles to sell some 
little articles by way of turning a penny or two." 

" We felt sure we should meet with friends like yourself, and so 
we brought along a little of the needful," and Irving took out his 
bottle, and seated himself with perfect sangfroid on an old log by 



the wayside, beckoning to the Irishman and his two companions 
to do likewise. 

" I feel pretty tired. Don't yon, Michael ?" said he, addressing 
Charley, who by this time had produced his bottle and handed it 
to the Irishman on his left. 

" Yaas, an' I do," was the reply, as the bottle was turned up to 
his m6uth, and then passed on. 

" Any rich secesh below here ?" asked Irving of the picket on 
his right. " Me and Mike want to sell out our little stock as soon 
as we can, for I left a sick wife at home, and you know it won't 
do to leave her too long. Have you a family, friend ? Here, take 
a little more ; you need it ; hard work standing picket," and he 
passed the bottle round. " Pretty good," he added, as he put it 
to his mouth for a second drink. 

"An' it is, an' shure," said the Irishman next him, who was 
jnst ready to apply Charley's bottle for a tliird drink. 

"Do you watch all night?" asked Irving, and without waiting 
for a reply, he turned to Charley and said, " Come, Mike, we can't 
get on much to-night ; let's turn in with our friends here," and 
he commenced to unstrap his budget, and make preparations for 
the proposed stay. " Here, boys, you must take ^ little more. 
Nothing like it to keep up the spirits these long nights," and the 
bottle was again passed. 

" We don't stand here all night ; we gets relieved in half an 
hour," responded a little red-headed Irishman, one of the three 
who had taken but little part in the scene, save to do duty at the 
bottle. ".We goes off now, d'rectly." 

" Well, then, Mike, we'll go on. If we can't have good company 
here, we had better find a better lodging-place. Any house near, 
friend ? Here, take this, it will help to steady your nerves," and 
he handed him the bottle. " Maybe you'll go along and show us 
the way ?" 

" There is a house just a little ahead to the right. Maybe you'll 
get rest there. We must go back to camp." 

Irving rebuckled his strap, rose to his feet, swaggered round a 
few minutes, talking about the horrors of war and the trials of the 
poor soldier, bade the three friends good-by, expressing a hope 
they might meet again, and, followed by Charley, walked on, 
whistling Rory O'More. 

" Well done !" said Charley, when they were out of hearing of 
the pickets. " We are now safe, thank God 1 and will soon be 
with Morgan." 


" * Connt no man hapj)y until he is dead,' said the old philoso- 
pher, and we cannot count ourselves safe until with Morgan. How- 
ever, I regard the greatest danger past. Most of the citizens in 
this part of the State are Soutlierners, and sliould we cross some 
Yankee sympathizer, we can very readily cajole him. But, see, 
yonder is the house. Shall we turn in here for the night, or drive 
on a few miles further ?" 

" Turn in, I decide. "We are both weary and hungry. Should 
we go on we may not meet with another house in some distance, 
and without blankets as we are, we should find it rather disagree- 
able sleeping out in the dew and chill night-air. I say, run the 
risk — let's apply at the mansion for supper and lodging." 

*' Remember, we are peddlers, Irving," said Charley, as tlie two 
gained the front yard gate. " And do not forget that a peddler's 
chief characteristic is asking high prices and selhng for nothing. 
I have no doubt but these people will be glad to get our* needles 
and thread. We must drive a pretty good bargain with them, 
that they may believe we are really what we profess to be. You 
must do the trading, Irving. I do not know the price of a single 
article that we have in our budgets." 

"Oh, I caj^ do that, Charley. I sold goods for three years, 
when I was a chap, and I well remember the price of needles, 
pins, tapes, combs, etc. I'll multiply these old prices by six, and 
then I'll be sure to have them high enough. But if we find these 
people true to our cause, and they treat us pretty kindly, we will 
just make a lump bargain with them, and say no more about it." 

"That would do, Irving, if we were entirely beyond Federal 
limits. But we must keep some things to preserve appearances, 
should we fall into the hands of the blue-coats. And by all 
means we must hold fast to our bottles. It will not do to let 
them slip." 

"But what will we do with them now, Charley? They will 
make us suspicious if they are seen." 

" Oh, give them to me ; I'll secure them," and Charley stepped 
aside from the pathway that led to the house, and threw the two 
remaining bottles into a clump of evergreens. "There," said he, 
'■'' requiescat in pace until the morning." 

The two approached the house, reached the door, and knocked 
for admittance. After waiting a few minutes, a servant came to 
the door, who invited them to walk in. 

" Ask your mistress if two — shall I say gentlemen or fellows V 
whispered Irving to Charley. 


"Peddlers, of course." 

The negro heard the question, and giggled outright. 

" Ask your mistress if two peddlers can stay all niglit." 

The girl went into her mistress's room, and soon returned, ac- 
companied by the master of the house. 

" "Walk in, walk in," said the old man, after he had thoroughly 
surveyed the two strangers, by the dim light of the flickering can 
die. " I see you are no plaguy Yankees. Walk in." 

After conversing with the old gentleman for a short time, the 
two dared to inform him who they were. Supper was imme- 
diately ordered, and partaken of with fine zest by the hungry 

The next morning the old gentleman gave them some valuable 
directions to guide them on their journey. lie would receive no 
compensation, but he was amply rewarded for his hospitality in 
the quantity of pins, needles, and thread left with his grateful wife. 




After travelling for five days over fields and throngli lanes and 
by-roads the two soldiers came, after many delays, upon Morgan's 
camp just as the men were preparing their supper. The old woods 
rang with cheers and applause when it was ascertained who the 
newly arrived visitors were. 

The boys gathered around Irving to welcome him back again ; 
and as they shook his hand their beaming faces and kind words 
fully attested the high estimate in which he was held by his com- 
rades. And Charley, who was known to not a few, was received 
with the warmest expressions of friendship. 

'' IIow do you do, Charley ?" and our young hero felt both hands 
clasped in kindly gratulation, and recognized the familiar voices of 
his two old friends, John and Bob. 

*' We thought you were dead, old fellow, picked off by some 
vile Yankee rifle," said one; "or perhaps had fallen alive into 
their clutches, and sent to Camp Chase for the imi)rovement of 
your morals," said another; "or had taken life-long lodgings in 
some Nashville prison, where we should never be able to visit 
nor even hear how you were faring, laughingly remarked a third. 
" You are right, Brent; there's just where I have been accom- 
modated. But, I am happy to say, not for a lifetime, though it 
looked very much like it at first." 

"Tell us all about it, Irving, do— all your experience with the 
cut-throat Yankees," exclaimed a dozen voices. 

'' How did you get out, and how have you made your way 
through to us?" and the boys, forgetting their supper, crowded 
round him to hear his story. 

He told them all : how he had been captured in his attempt to 
get within the Federal lines; of his being accused as a spy, and 
without trial offered the alternative of tlie oath or imprisonment ; 
how he had chosen the latter, but had been made to repent his 
choice by the wretchedness of his condition and the daily insults 


he received ; then of his change of purpose, taking the oath, 
release, and subsequent tramp from Nashville to the camp. 

"Bravo, bravo, my boy!" tilled the air as the hero concluded 
his narrative. " You have out-Yankeed them. Bravo ! bravo for 
old Kentucky !" and the boys threw their caps up in the air, and 
huzzaed, until the whole camp resounded with their cheers. 

" Why, kow you have changed, Charley ! We scarcely knew 
you, old friend. You look pale and thin. But never mind, you'l^ 
soon rally again. Come with us," and Lawrence, taking him by 
the arm, led him away to his mess, where, amid the aroma of the 
steaming coffee, and the no less grateful odor of the smoking fried 
ham, they too related in turn their hairbreadth escapes since last 
they parted. 

Irving reported to Colonel Morgan the success of his undertak- 
ing, and was informed by the colonel that he should set out on 
the second day following on an expedition to visit some of the 
Yankee garrisons. 

"Hold yourself in readiness, Irving. I want you to be one 
of the number." 

"Certainly, colonel," was the reply; "nothing would give me 
greater pleasure than to pay off a small portion of the s'core I 
have against the Feds." 

Charley, who had no idea of being left idle and inactive, imme- 
diately began preparation for joining the proposed expedition. He 
went out that evening into the neighborhood of the encampment, 
and through the assistance of his two friends, John and Bob, who 
were well known in the vicinity, and who were already well 
provided for, he succeeded in procuring from a friendly farmer a 
good horse, and Colonel Morgan furnished him with saddle and 
bridle and arms, so that by niglitfall he was pretty well equipped. 

The expedition, numbering one hundred and fifty men, headed 
by their gallant leader, all well mounted and armed, set out the 
following morning at daylight. They travelled rapidly all day, 
and late in the evening came upon Lebanon, where a small de- 
tachment of a Federal regiment was stationed. Their capture was 
a matter of easy achievement, mere sport for the gallant lads who 
knew no fear in the presence of the foe. The prisoners were pa- 
roled, their arms distributed among the captors, and the stores 
in the place secured. Every thing went " merry as a marriage- 
bell." The boys congratulated each other on their success, and 
only regretted tliat the enemy had yielded without being made 
to " taste gunpowder " Horses were fed, stabled, and the victors 


retired to rest after their brilliant coup de main^ feeling perfectly 
secure from all danger. 

The night wore on. The weary men slept peacefully. Just 
as the day was dawning, the alarm rang out. '^The enemy is 
upon us." Men started hastily from their beds and rushed into 
the streets. Every thing was wild confusion. Tlie order was 
given by Colonel Morgan to defend themselves and escape as best 
they could. This, under the suddenness of the surprise, was all 
that could be done. Some seized their guns and prepared for the 
attack ; others ran to secure their horses.. 

The enemy, headed by Dumont, drove in upon them in over- 
whelming numbers. Resistance was useless. Order could not be 
brought out of the sad confusion that everywhere reigned. They 
were surprised by thrice their number, and surrounded on all 
sides by the foe, who pressed in upon them, confident of an easy 
triumph. Seeing the hopelessness of an attempt at defence, the 
order was a second time given to cut their way through, each 
man to depend upon himself for his own safety. 

Morgan mounted his beautiful mare, and, regardless of conse- 
quences, dashed through the advancing ranks. It was a miracle 
that he escaped. His noble animal was shot under him, and it 
was only by the most reckless daring and courageous self-possession 
that he saved his life. Some of his men essaying to follow his ex- 
ample were wounded, others were killed. Among the latter was 
our young friend Bob, who, in attempting to escape from three 
Yankees, two of whom he had shot, was struck by a ball in the 
heart, and fell just as he felt himself securely beyond the range of 
their guns. Most of those who had succeeded in mounting es- 
caped, but about eighty fell into the hands of the enemy — among 
them, sad to say, Charley and Irving. These two men, failing to 
receive the warning in time, had found it impossible to reach their 
horses, and had to yield to the numbers wlio, rushing upon them, 
seized them and forced away their arms before they could prepare 
for any resistance. The prisoners were assembled in a large ui - 
occupied building, and a strong guard placed round it. 

"• Ho, for Camp Chase," said one of the victors, as they closed 
the door upon the captives. 

''Never for me," said Charley to Irving, his brow darkening 
and his eye flashing with the thought. "Death, but not Camp 
Chase." ♦ 

" Amen," responded Irving. " A short imprisonment for me, 
or death to end the scene." 


They could see from the windows of the house in which they 
were confined their dead comrades borne along the streets. 

"There goes poor Bob Reed — dead! dead!" exclaimed Charley, 
starting back from the window at which he had been standicir, 
"I wonder what has become of Lawrence and Brent; perhaj)S 
they have met the same fate with Reed," and Charley heaved a 
bitter sigh, and the tears, despite the efforts to suppress them, 
rushed to his eyes. 

" Would I were in poor Bob's place," he added after a few mo- 
ments' silence. " Misfortune attends me on every side. This is 
my third imprisonment, and I have been in the service but nine 
months. Better be dead than thus doomed." 

As he spoke, his eye rested on the plain gold ring that encircled 
his finger — Mary's gift — and dashing the unbidden tears away, lie 
settled himself on an old box in the corner of the room and covered 
his face with his hands. 

" We'll outwit these infernal Yankees yet. Camp Chase will 
never have the honor of holding Colonel John Morgan's men, rest 
assured of that." 

"•You are right, Irving," interposed Cal. Morgan, a younger 
brother of the colonel. " It will be but rare sport for my brother 
to rescue us from these scoundrels. I have no more fear of Camp 
Chase than I have of the gallows." 

But Charley could not feel assured that so happy a fate awaited 
them. He felt he was doomed, and that it was useless to struggle 
against his destiny. Dark thoughts entered and took possession 
of his soul. He could see no light before him. He dwelt on the 
horrors of his former imprisonment, on the degradation, insult, 
and suffering that awaited him. 

"I will never again pass Louisville a prisoner," he said to him- 
self, sadly. "The cold waves of the Ohio shall roll over me 

The next day active arrangements were made to convey the 
men to the river, in order that they might be transported by boat 
to Cincinnati. 




It was a great trial to tliese noble spirits to have to submit to 
imprisonment, aggravated as it was by the coarse taunts and 
brutal jeers of the unfeeling guard, who appeared to take increased , 
delight in tormenting their unfortunate victims, because they were 
Morgan's men. 

The position to these proud Kentuckians was one of the deepest 
humiliation— one that each man of them had vowed never to oc- 
cupy. But the alarm was so sudden, the surprise so unexpected 
and complete, that it was impossible to make any successful 
resistance. They were overpowered and robbed of their arms 
almost before they knew the enemy were in the town. And, to 
add to their distress, they were told that Colonel Morgan was 
killed in his attempt to out his way out. This was to them the 
saddest feature of the whole matter. Many of them had confident- 
ly expected, throughout the long hours of the weary night, that 
their brave leader would gather together a force, and return to 
their rescue. 

They felt fully assured that never would one of his men be per- 
mitted to enter the walls of any Northern prison, if it were in the 
power of mortal man to avert it. But when they heard that Mor- 
gan was dead, this h(»pe forsook them, and they saw their inevita- 
ble doom was protracted imprisonment, unless they could extricate 
themselves, by their own effort, from their captive condition. 

It was proposed to bribe the guard, but there were so many 
difficulties in the way of successful escape, even if beyond the 
prison walls, as the enemy, in large force, entirely surrounded the 
town, that this project had to be abandoned. Many favored it ; 
among these were Charley and young Irving, who believed there 
would be comparatively little ri&k in it. 

'^Do not give yourself any uneasiness, boys," said young Mor- 
gan, a brother of the colonel, who had hstened with an air of 
nonchalance to the animated debate; '' my brother is not dead- 
there is no Yankee bullet that can kill him. Be quiet, and Iwt 



things take their way. We'll be attended to in proper time. My 
life as the forfeit, if we ever pass the gates of a Yankee pri^ion." 

"You speak very confidently, Cal.," replied young Irving ; " but, 
for my part, I do not feel quite so well assured. I know what is 
before us. I have recently had a bit of experience in prison life, 
and I am perfectly willing to dispense with the tender mercies of 
the Yankees for all future time. I vote for bribing the guard." 

" We have only a hundred and fifty dollars, all told, Irving — 
not two dollars apiece — and it is folly to talk of bribing the "guard 
with that meagre sum. Moreover, he would not dare to let us all 
go, and who among us would be willing to remain? And even if 
we were out, the great probability is that half of us would be 
caught again. I think we had better remain together, and w^hea 
the time comes, our combined force can strike a heavy blow." 

"Thou reasonest well, Cal., my friend, and we will have to 
decide the question by vote. All favoring the plan of bribing the 
guard, hold up the right hand." 

" Only twenty. The majority is against us, Charley. Like good 
democrats, we will yield to its voice." 

Charley assented, but it was in sadness. "The bitter fruit of 
taking that oath," he murmured to himself, and turned to the win- 
dow to look out. The house opposite had been appropriated to 
the slain. It was through that faded brown door that he had 
seen the dead body of his friend borne. 

"I wish I was in poor Bob's place," he said again to himself, 
as he gazed fixedly at the old frame house. Tears rushed to his 
eyes, but quickly he dashed them away — he w'ould not be seen 
unnerved — and commenced to hum the air of " Auld Lang 

It was a most unfortunate selection. It brought to his sad heart 
cherished and touching memories. It was Mary's favorite air, and 
many an hour he had sat beside her listening to the sweet music 
of its variations, which she performed with exquisite taste and 
skill. The lovely girl, who had risked so much for him, to secure 
whose happiness he felt no sacrifice was too great — home, with 
all its tender associations — came before him, and, in spite of him- 
self, the big tears would flow. He looked at the delicate gold ring, 
the pledge of love. " I will live for her sake," he said to himself, 
" for her, the idol of my heart, the light, the star of my life," and 
he choked down his emotion, nerved his heart, and began to 
whistle in a lively manner, " Cheer, boys, cheer." 

It was known among the prisoners that they were to leave 


early the following incming for Nashville— whether to proceed 
from there by boat or ruilroad, they could not learn. 

^' It doesn't matter, boys, how they start us on our way to Yau- 
keedom. We'll never reach there. The stars may fall, or the 
Yankee nation turn respectable, but never will any of us breathe 
the air of their internal Northern slaughter-pens." 

''Hope you are right, Cal.," ejaculated all present. 

" My head for a football, if I have not spoken truly." 

The next day the prisoners, eighty in number, were sent to 
Nashville, there to take boat for Cincinnati, the rumor having 
obtained among the enemy that Colonel Morgan intended to release 
his men at all hazards, if sent by rail. 




The operator sat in his office silent and grura. He had just 
completed the forwarding of a dispatch from Louisville to Nash- 
^ ville, relative to Morgan's captured men, to the effect that they 
must be sent immediately to the former city by rail. The reason 
assigned was that Morgan could at any time enter Nashville, and, 
with the assistance he would there obtain from rebel sympathizers, 
could force the prison and liberate the prisoners. 

"Confound Morgan and his men!'' said the operator to himself, 
biting his lips in rage. "I wish the last one of them was at Old 
Nick this very minute. They are always doing some devilment 
to make trouble. Who knows but what they may pounce down 
on me some of these days, and take me off to some of their cursed 
prisons ? Confound the whole batch of them, I say. I wish I 
had Morgan here ; I'd soon put an end to his villany — the cursed 
rebel !" 

Just at this juncture of the soliloquy, a horseman alighted in 
front of the door, and, with whip in hand, walked carelessly in. 
The surly operator scarcely raised his head to speak to the in- 
truder, as he caught a glimpse of his butternut suit, all bespat- 
tered with mud, and the old^louched hat with rim partly torn offl 
But the visitor was not to he repulsed by this very uncivil recep- 
tion. Stepping forward towards a vacant chair, which stood be- 
side the window in the further side of the room, he seated himself, 
and asked for the news. 

" No news," was the curt reply. 

There was a morning jQurnal on the desk. The stranger 
reached out his hand, and, with the most perfect sangfroid^ took 
the paper, and, opening it, commenced to read. 

''John Morgan at work again," he said, as he glanced down the 
first column ; " great pity that man can't be caught — he plays the 
wild with every thing." 

At the mention of Morgan's name, the operator, as if suddenly 
seized by his Satanic Majesty himself, sprang from his chair, 


doubled np his fist, and then with a sudden jerk withdrawing it 
again, as if practising the pugilistic art on some hapless victim, 
and then thrusting his arm out at full length, while his eyes darted 
vengeful fire, excl.'iiuied : 

'' Yes, the scoundrel, villain — I wish I had him here. I'd blow 
his brains out, this very moment. Td show him. Just let him 
come in reacii of me, and he'll soon get a ball put through his 
cursed body. No more pranks from him, the mighty John Mor- 
gan, I tell you !" And tiie ifffuriated man went through all the 
gestures of shooting his hated foe. 

"You wouldn't kill him, would you?" asked the stranger, 
quietly looking up from his paper, and lifting the torn brim of his 
old white hat. 

"Kill him? aye, and I would, sooner than I'd shoot a mad dog. 
I just dare hiin, at any time, to cross that door, and if he isn't a 
dead man in five minutes, there's no truth in me." 

The stranger rose, took off his hat, and stood before the blood- 
thirsty operator, and with a quiet mien and voice gentle as a 
maiden's, said : 

" I am John Morgan, sir ; execute your threat. Here is a 
pistol — you are entirely welcome to use it!" 

As he spoke, he fixed his large, piercing eyes steadfastly on the 
operator. Every feature of that noble face bespoke daring and 

"Here is a pistol, use it!" 

" Oh ! thank you ; I — I — didn't know— I hadn't any idea — 
that you were — Colonel Morgan, sir — indeed I didn't — beg pardon, 
sir — so much annoyed to-day — every thing gone topsy-turvy. 
Man gets so fretted — excuse me — really didn't mean what I said — 
wouldn't have any man's blood on my conscience — oh, no — re- 
member the commandment — thousand pardons, sir — hope you'll 
forgive" — and the friglitened man bowed himself quite back to the 
wall, where he stood, pale and trembling. 

" You have my pardon, sir," replied Morgan, in a firm, gentle- 
manly tone. "Another time I advise you to be less boastful of 
your courage and veracity. I have but little time to stay. Seat 
yourself, and send the messages that I shall dictate to Louisville. 
Make no mistake; if you do, your life is the forfeit." 

The bewildered man, but too glad to escape so easily, obeyed 
the order of the colonel with alacrity. 

"I understand this operation, sir; don't you attempt to give 
any information but what I instruct you to do." 


Had the trembling man felt disposed to disobey the warning, 
the close proximity to his head of that formidable pistol -would 
have forever lulled all such desire. 

"Now," said Colonel Morgan, "show me all the dispatches 
that have passed through this office in the last twenty-four 

The man sprang from his seat, and with a most obsequious air 
obeyed the bidding. 

'•That will do, sir," said Morgan* bowing politely, and bidding 
the pusillanimous wretch "Good-morning," Reaching his horse, 
he mounted, and rode a\yay, leaving the confused operator dumb 
with wonder and surprise at the strange and startling occurrence. 

It was a beautiful Sabbath morning in May, 1862. Lovely as a 
poet*s dream rested the flower-mantled earth beneath the soft 
warm sunlight. The cars, laden with passengers, were wending 
their way at full speed from Louisville to Bowling Green. There 
was to be a " Union mass-meeting" in Nashville the following 
day, and the zealots of Kentucky, determined that it should have 
at least the appearance of power, and its proceedings be noised 
abroad through the land, had turned out in numbers to attend it. 
There were on board politicians, speculators. Federal officers, 
curiosity seekers, and hangers-on, besides a few private travellers. 

Prentice, of the "Journal," had fully purposed to be present, 
but '• owing," as one of his friends said to another, " to the 
fuddled condition of his brain, he was unable to make the time, 
and most unfortunately for the incidents of the day, was left be- 

The whistle had sounded, and the train was slowly nearing the 
depot at Ca>ve City, when a dozen armed horsemen suddenly ap- 
pearing in front of the locomotive, called out " Halt !" accompany- 
ing the command with a wave of the hand, a signal to the engineer 
to stop. 

This functionary appearing but little inclined to obey the order 
— his movements indicating a determination to proceed — the com- 
mand was repeated, and at the same moment about thirty other 
horsemen, armed to the teeth, dashed in view, and dozens of bul- 
lets shredded the air, whizzing alarmingly about the ears of the 
frantic passengers. 

"Morgan! Morgan!" was uttered by a dozen voices. "Mor- 
gan! Morgan!" was caught up and re-echoed by all. Then fol- 
lowed a scene of the wildest confusion, which was at the same 
time both ludicrous and serious. 



The engineer now seeing the folly of attempting to proceed, 
quickly brought the cars to a stand-still. 

Some of the liorsemen immediately sprang from their saddles 
to obstruct tlio track with rails, lest he should reverse the cars, 
and endeavor to return to Elizabethtown. Others rode up to 
the side of the cars, and, with pistols presented, demanded a full^ 
surrender of all soldiers and freight belonging to the government. 
Wild was the tumult among the loyal ladies, profound the panic 
that had seized officers, politicians, and si)eculators. Each was 
endeavoring as best he could to secure his own safety and interest. 
Private purses rapidly passed from the hands of loyal men to those 
of disloyal ladies, in order to preserve them from the hands of the 

Amid the fright and confusion Colonel Morgan entered the 
ladies' car. As he stood for a moment, every eye was fixed upon 

*' Be quiet, ladies," said he, with a pleasant smile,, as their cries 
of terror fell upon his ear. '• Be quiet, none of you shall be hurt, 
I only want the blue-coated gentlemen." 

Instantly there was profound silence. His words acted like a 
spell in calming the tumult. 

He approached one of the " blue-coated gentry," whose wife sat 
beside him. 

"Oh, spare ray husband. Colonel Morgan! Don't take him 
from me,'' screamed out the frightened wife. " For God's sake, 
don't take him. Have mercy— mercy on me, colonel, and spare 
him to me. I appeal to you as a gentleman— to your clemency— 
your generosity— your kindness— for my sake, for God's sake, for 
the sake of mercy, don't take him away." 

" I do not wish to take your husband from you, madam," he 
replied, amused at the woman's importunity. ''Take him your- 
self, and teach him better behavior than to come down here to 
kill' Southern people. This is all I ask. Will you promise me 

this?" ^ ^ , 

The grateful woman, in the joy of her heart, grasped the knees 
of the noble benefactor, and thanked him in the most passionate 

A low-browed Dutchman, who had been a music teacher in 
Lexington, Kentucky, but who now enjoyed the most impressive 
sobriquet of Major Helveti, was taken by some of the Louisville 
boys from the cars, mounted upon a shabby trotting mule, and 
spirited away under an escort in the direction of Dixie. 


" I have thirty thousand dollars in that safe," said the cotton 
agent of one of the large firms in Louisville, to Colonel Morgan, 
who was quietly examining Uncle Sam's treasures. '' It is private 
funds, colonel. I hope it will not be appropriated. Here is my 
receipt for its deposit from the agent, colonel." 

''Give yourself no uneasiness, sir," was the quiet response, 
while Colonel Morgan continued his operations. " My men are 
not thieves. Be assured, not one cent of private property shall 
be touched." 

After making such disposition of government funds and stores 
as he deemed proper, Colonel Morgan surrendered the cars to the 
conductor, under strict orders to return to Louisville' without 
attempting to proceed to Bowling Green. 

Colonel Morgan, with his force, immediately dashed down the 
road to the depot below, to intercept the upward train, on board 
of which were his men, proceeding to Louisville. Unfortunately 
for his plan, a courier, unobserved by him, had left the scene of 
action during the meUe^ and reaching the nearest depot below, had 
telegraphed to the conductor, by all means, to return to Nashville, 
as Morgan and his men were awaiting the train to seize it. 

Sad were the hearts of tlie prisoners, as the cars reversed their 
movement, and steamed back to ISTashville. They understood it 
all in a moment, and felt that all escape by liberation at the hands 
of their noble chief was at an end. Their disappointment and 
chagrin were unspeakable. There was no hope left them now, 
save in their own skill and management. But they did not de- 
spair. They were determined on one thing — and that was, come 
life or death, they would never enter a Northern dungeon. How 
they succeeded in averting this detested fate remains to be seen. 




Plated out — played out, boys!" said Charley, despondinfjly. 
"No hope of rescue now — jn-ison or death — we must choose be- 
tween the two." 

"There, Charley, croaking again. Why, my boy, this is only 
a pleasing variety. What is life without diversity? Come, ciieer 
up! be a hero — with a heart for any fate. If Colonel Morgan 
doesn't rescue us, we'll rescue ourselves. That's all." 

" You are very hopeful, to be sure. You have had no experience 
in prison. Wait until you have groaned beneath their iron rule 
for a few months. Then we shall see if you regard it as a pleasing 

" But there's no use despairing, even in the face of the most 
unpromising circumstances. Be patient. My word on it, Morgan 
will outwit these Yankees yet. They will not dare to keep us 
here in Nashville. Why, they wouldn't even risk us in Louisville. 
Don't you know that these cowardly wretches believe that Mor- 
gan can do just what he pleases? PU wager they are trembling 
now for fear he will rush upon them and spirit us away. They 
will never feel safe until we are beyond the Ohio river." 

"But what does all tliis argue? Simply that they won't im- 
prison us here." • 

"And that they will have to ship us to Camp Chase. And yon 
know it's a long way from here to Cincinnati, and there will be 
many chances for us to escape. I, for one, will never see the in- 
side of one of their dens, take my word for that. Indeed, I have 
a great mind to dodge them right here in Nashville. But then, 
it would be so much trouble to get out of their lines; and, more- 
over, I shouldn't like to leave any of my friends behind me." 

"They will take us by boat now, I suppose," said Charley, his 
voice assuming a rather more cheerful tone. 

" Oh, yes ! that will be their plan. They will not try railroad 
shipment again, and they won't dare to keep us here; so you see 
there is no other alternative." 


The prisoners were marched from the depot, and huddled to- 
gether in the close, damp jail for the night, without supper and 
without beds. 

The next day they were taken on board a small boat, lying at 
the wharf, to be sent to Clarksville, where they were to be trans- 
ferred to a large vessel, and forwarded immediately to Cincinnati. 

It was night — a soft May night. The young moon, from amid 
her throng of starry worshippers, beamed tenderly down on the 
sleeping eaj-th, w^hich lay reposing in her soft, warm rays like a 
glad babe on its mother's loving bosom. The radiant stars looked 
down with their spiritual eyes from out their far-off home in the 
blue vault above. And gentle breezes, wooed into life by the 
moon's soft kiss, sported caressingly among the fragrance-breathing 

It was the hour of midnight. Over the still bosom of the Cum- 
berland, the cliffs, with their wooded brows, threw a deep, dark 
shadow, here and there lighted up by the sparkhng moonbeams 
as they stole through the young and tender foliage of the over- 
hanging forests, and fell in streams of silver sheen on the rippling 

No sound was heard, save the low, irregular splashing of the 
waters, as the wheel of the little boat drove the tiny craft along 
over the river's still, smooth bosom. 

"Now is our time," said Morgan, quickly, yet stealthily, ap- 
proaching the spot where young Irving and Charley were stand- 
ing on the guard, looking over into the river below. 

" Pass the signal ; let each man but do his part, and we are free. 
You and Charley will attend to disarming the drunken guard. 
You, Irving, pass the word." 

The signal was given. Quietly, yet with lightning-speed, the 
prisoners hastened to the work assigned them. The oflicers and 
boat-hands were seized, and before they could recover from their 
consternation, they were bound and put under guard. The sen- 
tinels, overcome by too deep libations from rebel bottles, lay sense- 
less on the guards. To relieve them of their arms, was but the 
work of a moment. 

It was a daring undertaking, — one that required great tact and 
adroitness. But the plan had been well arranged, and its denoue- 
ment was eminently successful. The captain plead to be released, 
offering to convey them to any point on the river, if they would 
only allow him to keep his boat. 

*'0n these conditions," said young Morgan, "you must surren- 

OF Morgan and uis men. 139 

der to US all tlie arms you have; give us rations for two days; 
all the money you liave in your safe ; then land us above here, on 
the east bank of the river, and we will spare your life and release 
your boat. But as you value your head, captain, don't you at- 
tempt to trick us in any way. And another thing, you must go 
on to Clarksville, and remain there until we shall have time to 
get beyond danger. "Will you promise me this?" 

The captain, but too glad to save his head on any terms, readily 
assented to the proposition. 

" Swear hini," said Irving ; " swear him, Morgan, Excuse me, 
sir," he added, turning to the captain; "but you Yankess have 
such unreliable memories. The penalty for perjury un^er our 
oath is death at first sight. You'll remember ? Here, Charley, 
get out your Bible, and let the captain take the oath on that." 

The little pocket-book was produced, and the captain duly 

"Now, go with us, boss, and give directions to your engineer to 
wheel about and take us back a few miles ; after this, sir, we will 
attend to the pantry and money-box. Boys, keep a sharp look- 
out over your prisoners, and if these drunken soldiers dare to 
move, just throw them overboard." 

The necessary directions were given to the engineer. Tiie safe 
was then visited, and relieved of its treasures ; after which, Mor- 
gan, calling to his aid a number of the boys, stormed the pantry, 
and emptied it of its edibles. 

" Come, cook," said he to the mulatto, who liad stood beside 
him eyeing the movement with a look of wonder, mingled with 
admiration ; " come, be quick, get to work immediately, and fry 
these steaks and this ham, and make up all that flour and meal 
into bread. Here, boys, you that know how, fall to work and 
grind this coffee, slice tlie light-bread and butter it, and roll up 
sandwiches for yourselves — here's a nice cold ham. Each one take 
as much sugar and tea as he wants." 

"Come, steward, bring paper to these gentlemen." 

"None on board, sir, I believe," and the darkey trembled with 
fri^'ht at having to disobey orders. 

'' "Well, Well, never mind. Get your towels and tablecloths ; 
no matter what, so it will do to wrap up victuals in." 

The steward darted like lightning, and in a moment was back 
with the necessary articles. 

There was a general jubilee on board the boat. The boys 
laughed, and danced, and sung. They had not had such a merry time 


since the fated night at Lebanon. Morgan, Charley, and Irving 
took the management of affairs upon themselves;, and superintend- 
ed all the preparations. Every thing was carried forward with 
the greatest dispatch. 

The pilot was commanded to land them at the first safe point 
on the eastern bank of the river. Just as day was dawning 
over the earth, the boat was rounded to, and the boys, enforcing 
remembrance of their instructions on the captain and crew, equip- 
ped themselves with the few arms they had obtained, secured 
their edibles, and with one long, loud, ringing shout, sprang from 
the boat, and dashed into the woods. 

" Didn't I tell you that we would out-general these Yankees ?" 
said young Morgan to Charley, as he stepped up to his side, and 
slapped him on the shoulder. " But you wouldn't believe me. 
Did I not speak truly ?"' 

"You did. Your plan has succeeded well, and you deserve all 
praise. "We are once more free, thank God. Never let us again 
fall into the enemy's hands." 

*• Ah, we will never be caught napping again, Charley. Eter- 
nal vigilance is. the price of liberty these days. How would it do, 
Irving, for us all to vow that we will never be taken prisoners 
again? What say you, Charley?" 

" Amen, amen !" responded the two young men. 

" Come to a halt, Morgan," said Charley, " and let us all swear 
that the Yankees shall never again claim us as captives." 

The column was halted, the proposition submitted to the men, 
which was received with loud and protracted cheers, throughout 
the whole line. 

The oath was administered, Irv/ing holding up the small pocket- 
Bible, upon which each man was commanded to look, while he re- 
peated the form of words after young Morgan. 

" What do you say to breakfast now, boys, and a division of our 
money ? Come forward, treasurer, and disburse your funds per 

A young man stepped forward from the ranks, and drew forth 
from his pocket a roll of notes. 

"Two hundred and forty dollars — ^jnst three dollars apiece. 
Come forward, boys, and each one receive his quota." 

A council of war was then called to decide whether the com- 
pany should divide into squads, and thus endeavor to make their 
way to Colonel Morgan, or should, en masse^ proceed to join him. 

The subject was gravely discussed, pro and cob. 


" Most of us know every mile of this country," said Irving, the 
chief speaker. ''We Lave travelled over it often. It is inhabited 
only by friends. "We liave provisions enough to last us twenty- 
four hours, and if at the expiration of that time we shall find it 
expedient, in order to procure food, to divide out, we can do so." 

" But perhaps we shall encounter the Feds," suggested the 
treasurer, "and we have not arms enough to defend ourselves." 

"That is not at all probable, Carter. There are no Yankees in 
this section. You know that we have kept them too badly scared 
to venture out in small squads, and if they have thrown a large 
force anywhere near, we will soon learn it. Let us send out an 
advance whose duty it will be to apprise us of any danger ahead." 

''Boys, all in favor of moving on together, call out aye," said 
he, leaving it to the decision of a vote. 

" Aye," rang out from every man. 

About an hour was spent in eating breakfast, which was greatly 
enlivened by the recital of many a laughable incident that occurred 
while taking possession of the boat. The old woods were reso- 
nant with their mirth and hilarity, as they ate of their fried ham 
and steaks, with the buttered light-bread and fresh biscuits. It 
was far superior fare to any they had enjoyed in a long while, and 
their heightened appetite did ample justice to its acknowledged 

" Well, boys," said Irving, rising, and depositing the remainder 
of his roll in his pocket, " if we are through with breakfast, we'll 
take up our line of march. Our course is southeast. The Cum- 
berland may give us some trouble, but we will find friends who 
will assist us, and we shall soon make our way to Morgan. Three 
cheers for our colonel, boys!" and the speaker flourished his old 
white hat vigorously around his head. The example was followed 
by every man, and loud and lusty cheers went up from the mov- 
ing column, which were echoed and re-echoed among the leafy 
recesses of the forest until they gradually died away in the dis- 




The party travelled a day and a half before tliey could obtain 
any reliable intelligence of Colonel Morgan's whereabouts. They 
were then informed that he had a few days before passed within 
twenty miles of Carthage, going north. They could not learn 
whether he was accompanied by his whole force or not. The ru- 
mors were conflicting. One story said that he had certainly gone 
to Gallatin ; another, that he had undoubtedly proceeded to Ken- 

"If we cannot overtake Colonel Morgan," said Irving, after 
listening to the various contradictory rumors that met them on 
every side, " we must go where he can find us. Our present busi- 
ness is to get beyond the reach of the Federals. We can then 
w^ait until we can ascertain where he is. This done, our troubles 
are at an end." 

They marched on for two successive days. No certain intelli- 
gence of Morgan could be gained. Hearing of no enemy in that 
portion of the State, they decided to halt and establish a camp. 
A fine position was selected for this purpose in a skirt of woods, 
bounded by a beautiful stream. They purchased such necessary 
articles a^ their hmited means would allow\ The people in the 
neighborhood of the encampment generously assisted them with 
provisions and blankets. After remaining a few days here, and 
ascertaining nothing of Colonel Morgan, it was proposed to pro- 
cure some horses, and start a party in search of him. The propo- 
sition was favorably received by the whole encampment, and 
Irving, Charley, young Curd, and Johnson were selected to go, — 
Morgan remaining behind to look after the camp. He had already 
become quite popular in the neighborhood, partly because he was 
a brother of the favorite hero of the West, but quite as much on 
account of his agreeable manner and daring spirit. The project 
was made known to a few of the farmers, who readily furnished 
horses and every thing necessary for their equipment. The outfit 
was complete, and the four set forward on their search, under 



the direction they had received. After a day'8 travel northward, 
they obtained sucli intelligence of Colonel Morgan^s recent move- 
ments as they could credit. Two days more, and tiiey had reach- 
ed his camp. , tt i i 
Information was given him of all that had occurred. He had 
heard, while passing through the country from Cave City to his 
headquarters via Knoxville, that his men had escaped. Immedi- 
ately he turned about, and sent up into the region of Clarksville, 
for the purpose of rendering them assistance ; but he was too late, 
and learned on reaching there that they had set out on foot to 
overtake him. He dispatched Irving, Curd, and others back to 
the camp for their comrades, with instructions for as many as 
could to join him immediately. 




The morn'mg after the men reached Colonel Morgan's encamp- 
ment, Charley was very leisurely sauntering around ohjectles?, 
further than to indulge his general habit of activity, when, in pass- 
ing near a clump of undergrowth on the outskirts of the camp, 
his attention was arrested by the earnest voice of some one who 
seemed to be reading. As he neared the spot from whence the 
sound proceeded, he heard the speaker pronounce the name of 
Mary Lawrence. Suddenly he paused, as if transfixed to the spot. 
The blood mounted to his temples — his heart be§,t audibly — his 
frame grew rigid under the power of his strong emotion. A 
moment more, and the name of Arthur Morton reached his ear, 
and then the words "Federal officer," and "undivided attention." 

As one who is suddenly seized by some demoniac passion, he 
exclaimed, "Oh, my God!" and sprang forward. Then, as if im- 
pelled by the magic of an invisible power, he paused and strained 
his ears to listen. It was the voice of young Brent, who was evi- 
dently reading a letter from some friend in Louisville. 

As Charley stood breathless — trembling in every nerve, his 
hands clenched in the agony of dreadful apprehension, w^hile his 
face, which for a moment before was crimson, was now livid as 
death, his bloodless lips apart as one who listens with his soul as 
well as ears — these maddening words were plainly heard : "Rumor 
says they are to be married. I do not myself know, for I have 
not seen Mary in many weeks." 

He could bear no more. Frenzied, he turned and rushed 
away, walking as if pursued by a demon. 

" Where on earth are you going, at that break-neck speed, Char- 
ley ?" hallooed young Lawrence to him. as with great strides he 
pushed by the spot where a group had gathered around Captain 
Hawkins to hear him read a Louisville Journal^ which had found 
its way into the camp. 

Charley paused, and looked wildly around. 

" Come here, Charley," exclaimed a dozen voices. " Come, and 


hear," added yoilng Lawrence, " what old Prentice says about our 
capture at Lebanon, lie gloats over the idea of our surprise and 
imprisonment. Little does the old wretch think we are iiere free 
as air, laughing over his fiendishness." 

Charley, as if incapable of exercising his own will, obeyed the 
summons, but it was as one who acts devoid of thougiit and object. 

He took his place amid the group, li»;tless ; as one in a strange, 
wild dream, he st(K>d, his eyes gazing out into vacuity — his face 
wearing that peculiarly sad expression which results from sudden 
grief; while his heart — ah, how can we describe its tumultuous 
lieavings ! 

"Look, boys, Charley lives the whole scene over again!" ex- 
claiiued young Morgan. " He is even now, in thought and feeling, 
th^ inmate of a Yankee prison. Indeed, Charley, my friend, you 
do not regard yourself safe from the clutches of the villains, do 
you*" and Morgan ^lapped him on the shoulder pleasantly. Come, 
tlii.* won't, do. You are as free as the bird of tiie wild wood — as 
safe, Charley, as though all the Yankees had been ferried over 
Styx by the good Charon, who of late must have been kept very 
busy at his work." • 

'' No, no, Cal., I have no fear of the Yankees. I have seen them 
too often, and am too familiar with their face," responded Char- 
ley, endeavoring to assume an air of cheerfulness. 

"Then why so melancholic? Disapi)oiuted that you did not get 
a letter from home, eh ?" 

"Yes, partly that; and partly indisposition." 

" Oh, you mustn't get sick, Charley," interposed young Law- 
rence. " We are going to make Louisville a visit soon." 

"Just at this point in the conversation. Captain Hawkins, who 
had been silently scanning the paper, read aloud one of Prentice's 
witticisms, which caused them all to break out in a fit of the most 
uproarious laughter. 

Charley essayed to join them; out what a mockery to laugh, 
when the heart is breaking ! His effort was fruitless — only a wan, 
ghastly smile was the resvilt. 

Attracted by the shouting. Brent and his cousin, young Arnold, 
to whom he had been reading his letter, came rushing to the 
group. Brent holding the yet open letter in his hand. 

As Charley looked towards the young men, who were advancing 
at full speed, crying out. "What's the joke? what's the joke? Do 
let us share it?" he perceived the unfolded sheet. His first im- 
pulse was to meet Brent, and ask him to permit him to read his 



letter. But this would necessarily involve the betrayal of his 
secret, and, restraining himself, he simply said to young Brent, in 
passing, ''One of Prentice's lucky hits, that's all," and walked on 
in the direction of the woodland wliich flanked the encampment. 

Seeking its cool recesses, he seated himself upon an old log, 
around which the mushrooms had thickly grown, and burying his 
face in his hands, gave himself up to the tortures of the demon 
jealousy. And who that has felt his wasting tires, consuming, as 
it were, the very life of the soul, but can exclaim, "Death, death, 
give me death !" So felt Charley. The world to liim was one 
wide-spread void, over which rested the blackness of darkness. 
Despair, deep, fearful, had unfolded her sombrous wings over his 
heart, shutting out all hope — all joy. Gladly would he have lost 
his weary weight of anguish in that long sleep where dreams flo 
never come. He prayed for the fierce conflict, that he might yield 
Tip that life which in a few short hours had become to him only a 
meaningless existence. 

There are moments in life when the soul, bowed down beneath 
its weight of disappointment and despondence, fearfully strives to 
discern one gleam of hope, to find one promise of good, in all the 
vast universe spread out so inimitably around it. It turns to 
present, past, and future — but ah, how vainly! and the recoil upon 
itself is but the mightier for the effort made. 

In such moments, did the will but control the pulsations of the 
heart, what an array of self-murderers would stand in the last 
day before the final tribunal ! 

After remaining in this frenzied frame of raind, more intolerable 
than that which prompted the beautiful priestess of Venus to 
throw herself into the deep, dark sea, our hero arose, determined 
to seek out young Brent, obtain the letter, and if it confirmed his 
fearful apprehensions, to procure a furlough and leave immediately 
for Kentucky, and if his troth had been betrayed, to wipe out the 
wrong in the blood of the hated rival. 

He sought the camp. But, as he bent his steps thitherward, 
his resolution began to falter. He could not make known the 
secret of his love to another; and how could the letter be pro- 
cured without an explanation that must necessarily lead to dis- 
closure on this point? He racked his brain for a plan, but the 
knot could not be untied — he had not determination to cut it 
asunder. So, avoiding young Brent, whom he met midway the 
inclosure, he turned aside with agitated look, and passed on with 
rapid pace towards his own tent. 


The evening and night were passed amid tlie tortures of jealousy 
and despair. Sleep visited not the restless, tossing frame, and the 
aching brain, racked with fearful thought, throbbed wildly, while 
tlie blood-sliot eyes looked out into the gloom of the rayless tent 
strainingly, as if the sinking soul sought to catch some ray of hope 
from the outer world. It was the small hours of the morning be- 
fore that exhaustii)n consequent upon i^uch intense and continued 
excitement of mind induced a fitful, feverish slumber; and this un- 
satisfying rest was haunted by fearful dreams, wherein specters of 
frightful form and fiercest mien unrelentingly pursued him through 
all the winding way, from whicii he saw on way of escape. He 
awoke to a realization of his wretchedness, and, springing to his 
feet, rushed frantically into the open air, and paced back and forth 
before his tent, goaded on by the increasing intensity of his emotion. 
The morning came, but morning brought no relief. Pale and 
dejected, he pursued his walk. 

"Why, Charley, you look sick to-day!" exclaimed his mess- 
mates, as he seated himself to attempt a breakfast. He made no 
reply, but, sipping his coffee listlessly, and scarcely partaking of 
the bread and fried ham before bim, he sat silently brooding over 
Lis grief. 

'^ Why, Charley, my friend, what is the matter with you?" re- 
marked young Lawrence, wfth manifest astonishment, as returning 
from guard he seated himself at the mess-table. " You look as i'f 
the Furies had been tormenting you. Are you suffering from the 
scorpion whip of conscience for not going to ciiurch yesterday?" 

"I slept but badly last niglit, and this morning my head aches 
violently. Altogether, I am not well," replied our hero, endeavor- 
ing to rally himself, so as to avoid renewed inquiry and remark; 
but the effort was futile— the smile too painfully sad. 

"Oh, indeed, you must rally. It will not do to get sick now. 
Eumor says we go into Kentucky in a few days. Come, let's go 
and see some pretty girls to-day ; that is, if we get permission. 
A sweet face is always a sovereign catholicon for the blues. Come, 
what say you? I saw several interesting demoiselles yesterday 
at the old country church, and two of them live near here. 
Hughes, there, fell in love with one, and Brent with the other." 

"Not in love at all, Charley. Lawrence is exaggerating. We 
admired the young ladies ; they were quite beautiful, I assure you ; 
bu^ for me, I must wed a Kentucky girl, or die a Benedict." 

"You are right, Hughes; I say so too. A Kentucky girl for 
me. They are the fairest and best of all earth's daughters, and 


oue of them for me or none," exclaimed Brent, accompanying the 
remark with a very enthusiastic gesticulation, which upset the cup 
of hot coffee on his knee, and imminently endangered the break- 
fast table, which was a camp-stool; and notwithstanding it boasted 
of four legs, instead of three, they were so unsteady as to jeopard- 
ize its uprightness under a sudden smart blow. 

The boys roared with laughter at poor Brent's plight, which was 
really not enviable, as the hot coffee was by no means a pleasant 
douche. Charley joined in the merriment, for a moment forgetting 
his woe, but it was like the fitful gleam of sunlight bursting 
through the slightly riven cloud. 

"Irving," said Charley to his friend, as soon as he could meet 
him after breakfast, "I wish you to take a walk with me; I have 
something to tell you." 

" I hope y(ju are not in trouble, Charley, though one to see you 
would imagine you had again fallen into the hands of the Yankees, 
you'look so grief-stricken. I will walk with you in a few minutes, 
iust as soon as I can deliver this note to Major Duke. Wait here," 
and Irving passed rapidly on, and in a very short time returned 
to rejoin Charley. The two walked towards the dense woodland 
which flanked the rear of the encampment. Seated on the old log, 
around which the mushrooms had gathered, with the sweet music 
of spring-birds gushing out from amid the dense overhanging foli- 
age, Charley unbosomed his grief to his friend. 

"I trust you, Irving, because I feel I can rely on your sympa- 
thy and finesse. I must obtain that letter from Brent, at all haz- 
ard. Would you undertake to procure it for me, pledging me to 
keep my secret most fiducially?" 

"I think so. Trust me, I will not betray you. If possible-, I 
will secure the letter this evening. Join me about four o'clock, 
and we will together find Brent; and if I succeed in my purpose, 
you can either read it, or hear it read." 

The two parted ; — Charley to attend to his daily duties, and find, 
as best he might, relief from his goading grief; while Irving, who 
had been intrusted Avith the secret of the expedition so soon to be 
undertaken, was busily engaged in such preparations as were necejs- 
sary for the purpose of carrying out the commands of the morning. 

Punctually, at the designated hour, Charley sought Irving. He 
found him earnestly engaged in a conversation with Hawkins, one 
of the command upon whom Colonel Morgan greatly relied in all 
matters that req'ui red energy and tact. 

Pausing beneath the shade of a tree against which he leaned 


with the air of one aweary, Charley awaited his friend. A few 
minutes, and he was by his side, and the two set out to overtake 
Brent. Their search was for some time unrewarded. At leiigtli 
he was seen with Lawrence and Hughes, emerging from the lane 
which led from the encampment into the main road. 

''We are just from seeing the* young ladies with whom these 
gallants fell in love yesterday," said Lawrence to Cliarley, as the 
two met, '' and I do wish you could have been there to have wit- 
nessed the gaucherie of these noble Kentuckians. It would have 
cured you of your blues eternally. It was serio-comic, I assure you." 

"J^o such thing, boys; Lawrence is exaggerating the whole 
affair. "We conducted ourselves right nobly, like gentlemen to the 
manor born. Didn't we, Hughes ?" 

" Undoubtedly. Lawrence embarrassed us by telling the ladies 
we had fallen most deeply in love with them at first sight, and 
W(;uld not wait longer than to-day to make a call, when really, as 
you know, Charley, we went at his most earnest persuasion. 
Didn't Brent and I declare this morning that none but a daughter 
of Kentucky should capture us?" 

"Oh, that vow, like woman's, 'was traced in sand.' Charley, you 
and Irvingwould so decide, could you have but seen the earnest, lov- 
ing looks, and heard the soft, tender words which were inflicted upon 
those two beautiful Tennessee damsels, by these amorous swains." 

"Come, Brent," said Irving, taking him by the arm, and lead- 
ing him off, " come with me. You must make confession. I 
chance to know, gentlemen, something of this gallant knight's lady 
love," said Irving, looking back over his shoulder, and addressing 
the trio, now heartily laughing at something said by Lawrence. 

" Your company, boys, if you please," and Charley left Hughes and 
Lawrence, and hastened to follow Irving and Brent, who were seek- 
ing a rude seat which the boys had constructed beneath a large oak 
tree, and to which they had given the name of ATy Lady's Bower. 

" Is she your sweetheart ?" were the words that met Charley, 
as he found himself beside Irving. It was an inquiry of surprise 
from Brent. 

" Oh, no," replied the young man ; '*not exactly a sweetheart, 
but a young lady in whom, from ray first acquaintance, I have 
felt a deep interest. I knew her in Lexington, and she is the 
sweetheart of one of my particular friends." 

"Is Morton, of Louisville, a friend of yours, Irving? Do you 
know he is now in the Federal army ? He and Aliss Lawrence are 
to be married soon." 


''Married to young Morton, Brent! That cannot be. She is, 
undoubtedly, engaged to a young friend of mine. There must be 
some mistake. Wljere did you get your information ? Sarely, it 
can be nothing more tlian rumor." 

During this conversation, Ciiarley's face was flushed almost to 
crimson. His pulse throbbed violently. 

''Oh, no; it is not mere rumor. A letter just received from 
my sister in Louisville, says the marriage is certainly to take place." 

Charley clutched young Irving's arm convulsively. 

"I should like to see the statement, Brent. As you may well 
conceive, I feel a deep interest for this friend of mine, who I know 
to have acted honorably and sincerely throughout. Would there 
be any impropriety in my reading here in the presence of our friend, 
Charley, as much of tlie letter as is pertinent to the subject 1" 

" None in the world. I will step to the tent and get the letter. 
You and Charley remain here." 

Charley had scarcely time to request his friend to read the 
paragraph carefully and a second time, before Brent returned and 
handed him the letter, pointing out the fearful passage. Irving 
took it, read it slowly to himself, and, shaking his head rather 
ominously, began to read aloud : 

''Oh, I had almost neglected to mention," the young girl wrote 
to her brother, " the strangest item of news, and one that creates 
the greatest sensation among our young friends. It is said, and 
generally believed, that Mary Lawrence and Fred. Morton are to 
be married very soon. Lizzie Hutton told me yesterday there was 
no doubt of it. And you know Mary and Lizzie are old friends. 
Yet I scarcely know how to credit the statement, I have so often 
heard Mary declare she would not marry a Union man, if her 
life depended upon it. And Fred. Morton is now a Federal officer, 
dressed in his uniform. I met him on the street this morning. 
"We passed without speaking. You know I have no admiration 
for blue-coats, and so I dropped my veil as I approached him. I 
do not think he recognized me. I have not seen Mary myself for 
weeks. I have been out at sister Sue's for a long time, and have 
not, indeed, seen any of my friends. I shall go round this even- 
ing, and if there is any truth in the report, Mary will surely tell 
me. I cannot believe it unless she informs me of it herself, even 
if rumor does say it's a certainty." 

Irving folded the letter and returned it to Brent, remarking, " I 
do not understand this, surely there must be an error somewhere.'' 
Charley rose and walked away. 




Before a large mirror, which reached from ceiling to floor, 
Mary Lawrence stood, while her maid fastened the last white 
rose-bud amid the rich auburn curls. 

A perfect picture of loveliness was she as she stood there, array- 
ed in that soft white silk muslin, threaded with silver, fitting so 
recherche her exquisitely moulded figure ; while the elegant point- 
lace herthe^ with its sprigs d'argent^ the late gift of the fond 
mother, graced so charmingly the full drooping shoulders, and fell 
in gauzy softness over the rounded arms, which Avere encircled by 
a pair of bracelets, carbuncles set with pearls. A sash of white, 
spotted with silver, to correspond with dress and hertlie, was fas- 
tened round the delicate waist by a simple naud to the left. A 
pair of white kid gloves, perfectly fitting the small plump hand, 
and a costly pearl fan, completed the toilet. A few half-blown 
rose-buds looked out from the rich luxuriance of the lustrous curls. 
The last bud was secured by the hand of the admiring waiting- 
maid, who stood motionless, gazing on the angelic vision before 
her. Mary took a survey of herself. The blood rushed to the 
roots of the soft, dark hair. She threw herself on the sofa, and 
buried her face in her hands, 

'' Oh, indeed, Miss Mary, you'll mash your dress and all, all to 
pieces," ejaculated the maid, with a look of horror. Do get up, 
and let me straighten it for you."' 

The young girl heeded not the request, but sat still as death, her 
head bowed in her hands. 

The door- bell rang. Mary sprang to her feet. 

^'Go, Maria, see who it is," she said, nervously, to the girl, who 
stood gazing upon her with astonishment. 

''It is Captain Morton, I'm sure, Miss Mary. See, it is nine 
o'clock. You know he was to be for you at that hour." 

''Go, Maria," and she waved the servant to the door, who, with 
a feeling of curious wonder at her young mistress's strange mau- 


ner, descended the hall stairway, and, opening the front door, ush- 
ered the Federal officer into the parlor. 

"With rapid step Mary paced the floor for a few moments, her 
agitation constantly increasing. Thee, leaning her elbow on the 
dressing-stand, she toyed with the exquisite bouquet which stood 
in the vase before her, and which Captain Morton had sent with 
compliments but a few hours before. 

Maria returned, and announced Captain Morton. 

Murmuring some indistinct words to herself, while the color 
deepened in her cheek, Mary seized the fan from the stand, cast a 
hasty glance into the mirror, and beckoning to Maria, who stood 
holding her nubia, to follow her, with trembling she sought her 
mother's room. 

Bending over the couch of the pale invalid, she printed an affec- 
tionate kiss on the wan cheek. 

" You look worried to-night, my daughter. What is the matter 
with you?" asked the anxious parent, in a soft, tender tone. 
" Your face is flushed and feverish." 

" Oh, nothing, mother," replied the young girl. " Only excite- 
ment." And stooping over the low couch, she kissed her mother 
a second time, and passed to the parlor. 

"God shield my child!" murmured the mother, earnestly, as 
the form of her only, her darling daughter disappeared through 
the door. Then clasping her hands, the mother offered up for her 
child's safety such a prayer as only the heart of a mother could 
give utterance to. 

"With a sweet, affable smile, Mary bade the young captain good- 
evening, which was returned by him with a most gracious air. 
He was charmed to see her looking so beautiful, and he stood 
gazing upon her with an expression of fond delight. 

He observed she did not wear the flowers he had sent her. For 
a minute he felt chagrined, but in a moment the thought occurred 
to him, she regards them too highly to w^aste them on this evening. 
She keeps them in her room, that she may enjoy them. His ri>ing 
fears were subdued, his self-conceit highly flattered. 

" You are appearing most charmingly to-night. Miss Mary. Your 
color is unusually beautiful. Nature's own cosmetic. I am sure 
that you will be the cynosure of all eyes, and I the envied of all 
the beaux. The party is to be one of the largest ones we have 
had in the city since the war began ; indeed, I doubt whether we 
have ever had any thing that will excel it. The most costly and 
extensive preparations have been made, and all the elite are in- 


vited. ''It is ratlier strange, is it not, that one who is generally 
known as a Southern man, should have invited so many of us 
olticers ? Almost every one I have seen is expected to attend." 

"Indeed! I had scarcely supposed this would be so. But then, 
Mr. and Mrs. II. lovo popularity. They would sacrifice a great 
deal to secure it. And they have succeeded well. Their names 
are on the lips of both parties. Everybody speaks approvingly of 
them, as generous, affable, polite. And yet, I doubt — " 

The young girl paused, and taking the nubia from the servant, 
threw it around her shoulders. 

" Doubt what. Miss Mary ?" 

''I will not finish tlie sentence. I fear I might, perchance, do 
some one injustice." 

"Shall we go?" and the gallant captain, with all the air of one 
who has a position and feels it, offered his arm to escort the trem- 
bling girl to the carriage, which stood at the door awaiting them. 

It was a splendid scene. The gorgeously furnished rooms were 
brilliantly liglited, and thronged with the beauty and elegance of 
the city. Bright eyes flashed, and diamonds gleamed, and smile 
answered smile, and greeting and congratulations were every- 
where given and returned throughout that gay multitude, where 
each heart seemed to have forgotten forever all sorrow, where 
each face was radiant with smiles, and every tongue was voluble 
with utterances of joy and gladness. 

Near the door of the conservatory, where rich, rare flowers 
breathed out fragrant perfumes, and where a hundred lights threw 
a flood of dazzling splendor over these mute but eloquent repre- 
sentatives of every clime, stood Mary Lawrence, leaning on the 
arm of young Morton. He was speaking in a low but earnest 
tone, and his attitude and manner betrayed the depth of his feel- 
ing. With half-averted face, now flushed to crimson, and eyes 
bent to the ground, she listened to the fervent words. Her bosom 
heaved with deep emotion, her hand trembled as it clasped the 
fan which she vainly endeavored to use to cool her burning cheeks. 
She felt that the eyes of all who passed were fastened uppn her, 
and this served to increase her embarrassment. 

" What can be the matter with Mary Lawrence to-night?" asked 
Miss Whitmore of Lieutenant Dickinson, as the two stood in a 
position in the parlor that commanded a full view of the conser- 
vatory door. She appears so excited. I have never seen her half 
so gay as she seems this evening, nor yet half so beautiful. Is not 
she a perfect picture of loveliness, as she stands yonder beside that 



large orange-tree? She looks a fairy 'mid the flowers. Indeed, 
no idea that I have ever formed of the ancient goddesses could at 
all equal my realization of beauty in that form and face. I do not 
wonder Captain Morton worships her. Look how earnestly he 
bends to catch her slightest word, and how admiringly he gazes 
upon her! His soul is wrapt in devotion at tlie shrine of her 

'•Busy-mouthed rumor says they are engaged to be married in 
September next. I know not whether the statement be true. I 
have heard it from various sources, and I ojjine no one who 
has observed his devotion to her to-night will for a moment doubt 
it. You regard the engagement as being a matter of certainty, 
do you not. Miss Lu?" said the lieutenant, turning to address 
Cbarley's sister,- who, but a few minutes before, in company with 
Miss Brent and two young gentlemen, had taken a position near 
Miss Whitmore and Lieutenant Dickinson, and who, interested in 
the officer's remarks, had turned to give him attention. 

'•Mr. Shirley and I were but a few minutes ago discussing that 
question," she replied, assuming as much calmness as she could 
command. " He took the affirmative. I ditfered in opinion." 

'• It is certainly so, Miss Lu!" exclaimed young Shirley. "Fred 
is one of my friends. I cannot be mistaken." 

'']^o one doubts it now," added Mr. Grayson. " The evidences 
are conclusive." 

"It has been believed for weeks," interposed Miss Brent. 
"Three weeks since the rumor was so rife, I felt justifiable in 
writing the report to my brother who is with Colonel Morgan, 
and since then I have had such frequent intimations of it that I 
have learned to regard it as a fixed fact." 

" He has scarcely left her side during the evening. I have ob- 
served several gentlemen endeavor to win her from him. I my- 
self thought to do so; but after using all the strategy that I could 
master, I had at last to acknowledge myself foiled." 

"Ah, Grayson! we unstarred, buttonless wights stand but a 
poor chance now in winning the hearts of the ladies fair. 'Our 
occupation's gone.' There is something about the stripes and 
tinsel that charms the girls, We shall have to don les •habits 
militaire^ or make up our minds to be Benedicts," said Shirley 
with an air of badinage, at the same time looking with an ex- 
pression of mock grief upon the three ladies present. 

"Come, come, Shirley, you do the ladies injustice," responded 
the lieutenant. " I appeal to the three present to support me in a 


denial of tlie charge. Say, ladic^s !•' there an attraction about the 
trappings of war to win your hearts and fix your atfections?" 

"By no means," responded Miss Wliitmore ; "if a man is a 
patriot, I care not whetiier he wears the insignia of the battle-field 
or not," and she smiled very complacently on the officer by her side. 
"There is a wide difference in our views of patriotism, lieu- 
tenant," replied Miss Brent, spiritedly, yet with no manifestation 
of unkind feeling. " I deem it far more noble, far more patriotic 
to oppose the wrong than to perpetrate it: to tight for freedom 
and liberty than for subjugation." 

"Oh, we will not argue this question now, Miss Brent. Our 
views are diverse, and I suppose irreconcilable," responded the 
Federal officer, reddening over the position in which the young 
lady's remarks placed him. 

A smile of satisfaction gleamed on the face of Grayson and 
Shirley at the embarrassment of the lieutenant. They were at 
heart Southern, and were only awaiting an opportunity to get 
through the lines to join Colonel Morgan. 

" Will it«ot be the Union of the white and red roses when Miss 
Lawrence and young Morton marry ?" remarked young Grayson to 
Miss Brent, as they withdrew to a position nearer the door which 
led out to the conservatory. " You know she was always regarded 
as one of our most patriotic Southern ladies. Indeed, it is said 
that she had a lover who was taken at Donelson. It is no other 
than our old friend, Charley K., and that she went in disguise of 
a nun to Camp Chase to visit him." 

"And so she did, though it is not generally known. Lou. R., 
Charley's sister, accompanied her, and she will not believe that 
Mary and Fred Morton will married. You see she will 
not be convinced. But certainly she is the only one that doubts. 
And she can no longer disbelieve after what she must have ob- 
served this evening." 

Supper was announced, and the guests were ushered into the 
large and brilliantly lighted dining-room, where tables, laden with 
every delicacy that could please the eye or tempt the palate, were 
spread out in luxurious bounty and elegance before the charmed eve; 
sparkling wines, every variety of confection, in style a la Parisi- 
enne, ices, sherbets, noyaus, jellies, cakes of magnificent size and 
proportion, with every variety of iced ornament that the imadrta- 
tion could conceive, with fruits of all climes, were arranged wirli 
such artistic taste and skill as to give an air of magic grandeur lo 
this splendid collation. 


It SO chanced that at the table Lon. R. found lierself ris-a-vis 
to Miss Lawrence and the young captaio, wliile to her left stood 
Miss Brent with Mr. Spalding, an old friend of her brother Charley, 
and now a devoted admirer of Miss R. 

Mr. Spalding, a young man of twenty-seven, handsome and in- 
telligent, was the son of a wealthy farmer near Lebanon, Kentucky. 
Having met Miss R. during the winter while on a visit to her 
aunt, who resided in the vicinity of his father, he had formed a 
warm attachment for her, and during the spring and summer had 
become quite a frequent visitor at her fatlier's. 

Having been, from his earliest childhood, a great favorite with 
the family of Mr. H., with whom he was distantly connected, he 
■was ever a guest in the house while visiting the city. As soon as 
he received his invitation to the party, he hastened to Louisville to 
secure the company of Lou. R., but found, on arriving, that Mr. 
Shirley, who was also an admirer of the young lady, had previ- 
ously engaged it. 

Opposed to Miss Brent and Mr. Spalding were Miss H., the 
daughter of the generous host, and young Quimby,* cousin of 
Captain Morton's, who had formerly been a lover of Miss Brent, 
but, owing to political differences, they had become estranged, and 
the young gentleman now vied with Lieutenant Dickinson in his 
attentions to Miss "Whitmore, one of the belles of the occasion. 

Conversation flowed freely between the friends across the table. 
Only young Quimby seemed averse to enjoy the dashes of witty 
and brilliant repartee which were giving zest to the charming 
viands. He was piqued at his proximity to Miss Brent, and as- 
sumed an expression of contempt for what he chose to denominate 
persiflage. Captain Morton appeared the very embodiment of 
happiness. He had a smile and bow for every one, and a satisfac- 
tory air which seemed to say I possess all my heart desires. 

Mary Lawrence was gay, unusually so, but her friend Lou. R. 
thought she discovered in her conduct something which pro- 
nounced her buoyancy an effort. There was an expression of 
suhduedness in her manner and on her face which, to the sister's 
eager searching interest, appeared the index of that soft and tender 
emotion, the consciousness of loving and being loved. And as the 
thought of her friend's falsity to her brother settled into a convic- 
tion in the sister's heart, she grew pale with the feeling of the 
deep wrong done that noble soul, of the agony and sorrow that 
must wring his heart with anguish unutterable. 

The remainder of the evening was passed by her in alte^nat^ 



hope and fear. Every movement of Mary Lawrence received 1 
searching scrutiny. But amid tiie whirl and excitement of the 
> moving multitude she could form no just conclusion. Often, as 
she passed amid the throng, her ear was greeted with the fearful 
announcement of tlie certainty of the approaching marriage. 

Once she thought to take Mary aside, and ask her if it could be 
true that she had deceived Charley. ]5ut why ask her, she said to 
herself; if she is false, will she not deny it ? I could not expect 
her to confess to me. 

Bewildered, chagrined, grieved, jealous of her brother's honor 
and happiness, and yet unwilling to inflict an injustice, even in 
thought, upon the friend of her childhood, Lou. R. left the gay as- 
semblage, at the close of the evening, with feelings to which she 
had hitherto been a stranger— feelings that she could not analyze. 

"You are sad to-night, Miss Lu," said Mr. Spalding to her, as 
he accompanied her and Mr. Shirley to the house of a friend on 

"A perceptible change has passed over you in the last two 
hours. Miss Lu," interposed Mr. Shirley. ''Did you lose your 
heart in the gay throng of cavaliers, to-night ? I observed the 
admiring and very devoted manner of the gay Lothario from 
Lexington, Mr. Grigsby. Was he really successful in making an 
ineffaceable impression ?" 

" Oh, by no means, Mr. Shirley," she replied, with that frankness 
so characteristic of her heart. '' He is a pleasant, agreeable gen- 
tleman; but I shall have no remembrance of him beyond an 
evening acquaintance." 

*' I would not be bold or inquisitive, Miss Lu," said Spalding, 
in a serious tone, '' but I will dare to ask, as a friend, why it is 
you have been so sad for the last few hours ?" 

" What, have I been sad ? I fancied I was very glad and hapy)y. 
You gentlemen must be deceived. Have I not been full of smiles 
and laughter ?" 

" Rather of thought and sadness. It could be read in your face ; 
was echoed in your tone — spoke in every movement." 

'• All a mistake, gentlemen. Allow me to say to you, you have 
greatly deceived yourselves." 

'•Happy to hear you so declare. Miss Lu," replied Spaldino- 
"Better that we should be deceived than you gneved." 

" How very brilliant your friend Mtss Lawrence was to-night !" 
he added, after a pause. "And so beautiful ! I presume there is 
no doubt but that she is engaged to young Morton. His attentions 


to her to-night were vexingly devoted, I but bowed to her. I 
bad desired to converse with her, for I wished to hear her describe 
her visit to Camp Chase. She is aufait in description. Captain 
Morton will secure a lovely and charming prize when he cluims 
her as his own." 

The young girl made no reply. 

"• He is a lucky fellow, indeed," interposed Shirley. " Miss Mary 
is one of the most beautiful girls of our city, and as good as she 
is beautiful." 

The party had reached the steps as Mr. Shirley concluded his 
remark. Waiting to see the young lady safely in, they bade her 
good-night, and left. 

To describe the sister's emotions, as she lay tiiinking over the 
strange, inexplicable question before her, would be impossible. 
Her soul was stirred to its depths at the thought of the deep injury 
her brotlier had received, and her indignation against the author 
of the crime changed her love to hatred. 

"■I will w^-ite to Ciiarley !" she exclaimed, as she lay tossing on 
her pillow. "I will tell him he has been deceived — wronged — 
cursed — in bestowing his wealth of love on this unworthy girl." 




It Lad for some time been the intention of Colonel Morgan to 
advance into Kentucky, for the purpose of recruiting his forces, 
and of harassing and damaging the enemy, by cutting off transpor- 
tation, capturing his detached Iroops, and destroying his stores at 
such points as he should find imperfectly protected. The sad 
disaster at Lebanon, Tennessee, had delayed the accomplishment 
of his plan, but though ])ostponed it had never been abandoned. 

His designs had been imparted to his staff, and their advice and 
co-operation solicited. They fully coincided in his views, deeming 
the undertaking one thAt, if properly conducted, would necessarily 
result in great benefit to the Confederate cause. 

His adjutant, Major Basil Duke, a man of cool judgment and 
undaunted courage, together with Colonel St. Leger Grenfel, an 
English officer, who had attached himself to Colonel Morgan, and 
who, from his experience and skill, was peculiarly fitted to accom- 
pany such an expedition, were his chief advisers. 

One of the objects of the expedition — indeed, the main one — 
was the destruction of the Louisville and Nashville railroad, upon 
which the enemy in Tennessee, owing to the low stage of the 
Cuujberland river, was ahnost wholly dependent for sujjplies, 
C(mld the road be effectually destroyed, it would necessarily 
greatly embarrass him for the present, and certainly retard his 

After the return of the eighty prisoners, the first thing to be 
attended to was the arming and equipping of as many as it was 
possible to attend to under the circumstances. Most of them were 
veterans who could be relied on in any emergency. 

Many of them were natives of the State, perfectly famihar \yith 
its roads and streams, and consequently peculiarly fitted for an 
advance, and for reconnoitring. 

Colonel Morgan, after having matured his plan, and made such 
preparations as he deemed necessary, determined to move into 


Kentucky. It was about the 4tli of July when he set out on his 

Leaving his headquarters in the vicinity of Knoxville, he made 
a dash through Middle Tennessee, crossed the Cumberland river 
near Hartsville, and entered the State south of Scottsville, to wliich 
point he proceeded with the main body of his force, numbering 
about one thousand men. 

Meanwhile, he sent Colonel Stearnes, with a detachment of about 
two hundred and jBfty men, to capture Torapkinsville, and destroy 
what stores might be found there. There were stationed at this 
town four companies of a Pennsylvania cavalry rci^iment. Not 
supposing that the enemy was within hundreds of miles, the Yan- 
kees were completely surprised, and after a short and bloodless 
contest, were fully routed, with the loss of forty prisoners and as 
many horses and guns. 

It was an entire defeat to the Federals, and so rapid were the 
movements of the Confederates, that before the routed foe could 
recover from their consternation and rally reinforcements for an 
attack, the enemy had fled, they knew not whither. 

Colonel Morgan, at the head of his command, then dashed into 
Glasgow, where, after capturing the place and its provost-guard, 
and releasing some Southern men whom he ft)und imprisoned foi 
their opinions, he issued a proclamation explaining his object in 
invading the State, and called on all true Kentuckians, who re- 
garded freedom as a birthright, and were unwilling to bow the 
knee before usurpation and tyranny, to join his standard and assist 
in redeeming their beloved State from the vile thraldom under 
which she now groaned. 

A little incident occurred here worthy of notice, since it illus- 
trates the difference between the animus of Southern men and so- 
styled Union men. 

There was in Glasgow a Judge McFerrin, a prominent member 
of the ]3aptist Church, now an old man ; his head was whitened 
by age, his litheness and buoyancy were long since gone. When 
the question of Nortli and South was introduced into Kentucky, 
he took a very decided stand in favor of what he called " the Gov- 
ernment.'''' Some of his friends, more far-sighted than himself, 
endeavored to convince him of his error in supposing ah abo- 
lition administration ever was or ever could be the constitutional 
government of the United States. But the old man, never dis- 
tinguished for quick perception and correct conclusions, with his 
faculties blinded by years, could not be made to discriminate be- 


tvreen the two. And with a zeal all untempered by judgment, he 
espoused the " jmio/i ca </«<'," and became the bitter opponent of 
all who dared to entertain a contrary opinion. With tiiat intoler- 
ance cliaraoteristic of narrow minds governed by prejudice and 
passion rather than right reason, he denounced all who opposed 
Lis mistaken views as destitute of all religion, and wholly debarred 
forever from entering the kinfrdom of heaven. Thus, with Jesu- 
itical zeal, he became the persecutor of his brethren. For months 
he had been active in finding out wlio, in his vicinity, were 
" vile secesh," as he contemptuously branded them, and when- 
ever a fitting opportunity offered, he would "bring them to jus- 
tice," as he denominated searching out innocent neighbors, and 
having them imprisoned. 

His zeal equalled that of Paul, when breathing out threatenings 
and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord. He persecuted 
this way unto death, binding and delivering into prison both men 

And all this was done to support the "best government in the 
world," it was alleged, as if the precepts of the Divine Teacher 
were no longer binding on the consciences of those who had es- 
poused the cause of the civil magistrate. 

Colonel Morgan's men had been informed of the course pur- 
sued by the old judge. Partly by way of retaliation, and partly 
for amusing variety, they determined on his arrest. 

It was high noon. The old judge, sitting in his oflBce, in all the 
assumption of judicial dignity, was conversing with two or three 
friends, like-minded with himself, on the "wicked rebellion," 
and the doom that ought to be meted out to every traitor in the 
land, be he young or old, distinguished or obscure. 

His wrath waxed hot as he dwelt on the "high crime of trying 
to overthrow the best government, in the act of endeavoring to 
break up the glorious Union for which our forefathers bled ;" and 
as he warmed with his subject, his righteous indignation would 
vent itself in sundry hard thumps on the red cherry t:ible at his 
side, which served with him to give emphasis to his loud and 
bitter words. While the old judge was thus in the very height of 
his abusive tirade, a young man, breathless with excitement, rush- 
ed to the door of the office, and calling out, " Morgan's men ! Mor- 
gan's men in town !" disappeared down the street. Suddenly the 
scene changed. The question was now, not how he should defend 
his country against the vile secesh invader, but how he could save 
Lis own important person. 


A fearful silence quickly succeeded the loud rant of the moment 
before, and the crimson of fierce passion died out in the wrinkled 
face of the old man, over >vhich the deadly pallor of fear now 
spread itself. This violent denouncer of "■ traitors and rebels," 
like Felix, was seized with sudden trembling in view of his high 
misdemeanor. His ardent patriotism vaporized in a moment at 
the mere mention of the enemy's presence. Not waiting for any 
further assurance of danger, he cast one wild, blank look on his 
horror-stricken companions, and seizing his hat with the despera- 
tion of a man who seeks to free himself from impending destruc- 
tion, he rushed through the back door of his office, and with rapid 
strides sought his home. Reaching the house, he dashed frantically 
in, and exclaimed with gasping breath, "Morgan, Morgan, Mor- 
gan !" and without pausing to answer any of the many inquiries 
proposed by his affrighted family, he dashed out of the door 
through which he had entered, hastened down the street as if 
pursued by the vengeful Furies, never pausing a moment to look 
to the right or left until he reached the outskirts of the little 
town. He was making his way with all possible celerity to a 
field of corn which stood to the left of the main road, hoping 
to secrete himself therein until he could pass unobserved to the 
house of a friend two miles distant in the country. But, alas 
for his vision of escape, just as he gained the fence a voice cried 
out — 

"There he goes, boys; see him, see him ; catch him !" 

" Where, where V cried out a dozen voices at once. 

Like a death-knell the words fell on the ear of the old man, now 
vainly essaying to climb the fence. He was perched target-like 
on the topmost rail, his hair streaming out on the breeze (he had 
lost his hat in his desperate plunge at the fence), his face pale with 
aftVight, while he shook from head to foot with trepidation and 

"Where, where?" the boys repeated. 

"Yonder on that fence, behind that large tree. Don't you see 
him ?" and young Leslie, who knew the old man well, dashed on 
towards the spot, followed by his comrades, shouting like mad- 

'^ Our prisoner, judge," said he. as he sprang forward towards 
the old man. ''Turn about is fair play, you know. You have 
been persecuting our friends; we nmst now avenge their wrongs. 
Come with us, if you please." The old man was assisted from his 
perch, placed between two of the boys and marched back to town, 


his guard in tlie mean time preserving the greatest gravity, wliile 
the boys behind were convulsed with hiughter. 

"And tlie day of retribution has at hist come, and woe to the 
ofttiulers I tell you, boys. They must now endure something 
more than the lashings of conscience," responded Morgan in a 
solemn voice, at the same time looking most mischievously at 

"Ah! most fearful indeed must be their doom. Ours is the 
Draconian code — death by the law for every crime," added Charley 
impressively, catching in a moment young Morgan's meaning. 

Leslie and Irving, scarcely able to contain themselves, glanced 
round with an approving smile upon their companions, while the 
boys behind them laughed outright at tlie farce 

The boys knew that Colonel Morgan would release the old judge 
after scaring him a while, and they were determined to punish 
him a little on their own score. 

So Charley and }'oung Morgan, assisted by several others wlio 
crowded round the trembling culprit, continued their ominous 
remarks, preserving all the while a most serious tone. 

Tlie old judge looked nervously first on one side and then on 
the other, lie would have defended himself, but he could not 
think what to say. lie knew he was guilty of all the charges the 
boys so adroitly brought against "offenders," and he was left 
without one plea to argue in his own behalf. He was thinking, 
as well as the confused state of his mind would allow, of throwing 
himself on the clemency of Colonel Morgan, who he had often 
heard was full of magnanimity, when Charley remarked to the 
boys in a loud, distinct tone — 

"Our colonel is always ready to forgive a personal wrong, boys, 
you know; but when \\\s friends have suffered at the hands of 
Unit)n men, he never fails to redress their grievances in the most 
summary manner. 

The old man's heart sunk within him. His last hope was gone. 
His knees trembled violently — the deadly pallor of his face ii- 
creased — he stared wildly upon his tormentors. Soon he would 
be in the presence of his inexorable judge, to await his fearful 
sentence. '' ^yhat would that sentence be?" his fearful heart 
asked. What could it be but the severest punishment! 

" Oh, that I had but pursued a different course !" he said to him- 
self. " My country did not require all this at my hand<. Oh that 
I had minded my own business and left these matters ahme!" 

" There are Southern men in jail in this town now, I heai," re- 


plied Morgan, " placed here throngh the efforts of Union men. 
They must be avenged." 

" Some of our friends and relatives are in prison, Jones," said 
Leslie to one of the young men near him. '' Wk must see that 
they are released, and their persecutors sent down to Dixie to try 
the charms of imprisonment there." 

Tliese two young men were from the vicinity of Glasgow. 
Their relatives were all Southern in sentiment, and with others 
had shared the injustice of the mob. 

''They will be fully avenged now, Leslie. Those who have 
placed them there will have to suffer for it. Colonel Morgan will 
ferret out the whole matter, and when he finds the guilty one, I 
tell you, woe be to him." 

*' It were better that a millstone were hung about his neck, and 
he cast into the depths of the Mississippi." 

" And it is but just that they should suffer," responded Charley, 
preserving his solemn air and impressive tone. '' Nothing but just. 
It is a crying sin, that sliould meet with the severest penalty, this 
thing of taking up a man and putting him in prison merely 
because he can't think as another man does. We don't imprison 
men for their opinions, and woe to the Union man when he falls 
into our hands who has been the cause of hunting out his Southern 
neighbors and putting them in jail." 

Thus regaling the ears of their conscience-stricken prisoner, the 
boys bore him along to the presence of Colonel Morgan. Leslie 
introduced the judge. 

"Judge McFerrin," observed the colonel, eyeing closely tlie 
trembling old man : " I think I have heard of you, judge. Not 
very friendly to us 'vile secesh,' I believe — have had something 
to do with arresting those gentlemen there whom I have just re- 
leased," said he, pointing to the five citizens of the place who had 
but a few minutes before stepped forth from the county jail. 

The old man could not reply. He stood as if spell-bound, lo-k- 
ing upon his accuser. 

"Take care of the judge, boys. I will attend to his case an- 
other time," and Colonel Morgan having very politely waved to 
the boys to remove the prisoner, it was done witli all possible 

The old man, trembling from head to foot, was conducted 
to his ofiice, the door locked, and a guard stationed round the 

The boys, who had entered into the scene with great zeal, and 


•who had derived no little merriment from the ludicrous fright of 
tiie old judge, determined not to release him until he was sworn 
to good behavior for the future. So after keeping him in prison 
for full three hours, dinnerless and quaking with alarm, they 
brought him forth and duly administered the oath of allegiance 
to the Southern Confederacy, to which the old judge, happy for 
any means of escape, subscribed, albeit his self-pride brought 
certain contortions to his face, which the boys, divining the cause, 
enjoyed most fully. 

"Go, sin no more. "We'll be round about here soon again, and 
Lope to have a good report from you," said Irving, taking upon 
liiinself the dignity of a magistrate. The old judge turned, and 
liastened away from this improvi:>ed court of justice a wiser if not 
a better man. 

In a few short hours fear had so far overcome his patriotism 
that he has never since manifested any lingering of his Jesuitical 

That evening Colonel Morgan, with his command, set out on a 
rapid march to central Kentucky. 

"I wonder," said Charley to young Lawrence, as the two 
rode on in the soft moonlight, "if we shall really reach Louis- 

The interrogatory was propounded in a tone so full of melan- 
choly that Lawrence looked up in surprise, and fixed his eyes full 
upon the face of his friend, which was plainly visible in the moon- 
light, its sadness deepened by the pale, soft light. 

"Indeed, I cannot tc'll,.Cliarley, but suppose we will if it is 
practicable. But one would think from your look that you would 
prefer death to a return to your old home. TVhat is the matter 
-with you, anyhow ? You have looked as if. Atlas-like, you had 
the whole world on your shoulders. I have noticed it ever since 
this expedition was projected. Surely you are not seriously 
opposed to a visit to our dear old city, if it does wear the gyves 
of the '.Old Baboon.'" 

" No, no, John ; of course I do not object to returning to Louis- 

The lips uttered the words — the conscience questioned their 

" If she is false," he exclaimed to himself, "why should I de- 
sire to return? Death — the cold, lone grave — eternity with all its 
dread uncertainties — any thing — any thing rather than see her — 
she, the light of my life, another's!" 


"Charley, you puzzle rue, old fellow. You act like one in a 
strange, wild dreara. I have noticed it for several days. Wiiat on 
earth can be the matter with you ? When we are all so delighted 
with the thought of being once more on old Kentucky soil, so wild 
with the hope of getting back to Louisville, to greet our friends 
and punish ^our foes; to find you sad and gloomy, is anomalous. 
I can't tell how to interpret it. You must liave something on 
your mind, that you liaven't told me of. Out with it. Jf it 
is a secret, I will keep it for you most masonically — that you 
know. If you have sins to atone for, let me be your father con- 
fessor. It will do you good to unbosom yourself. Ct)me, let's 
have it." 

The words of avowal struggled up to our young hero's ]]\)S. 
He was about to disclose his consuming grief. He paused a 
moment, choked down the words with a' mighty eftort, and 
replied, with as much nonchalance as his feelings would ad- 
mit — 

''You must l^e mistaken, John. I am sure I act very naturally. 
I am not well, to be sure, and this no doubt affects me. Perhaps 
I do seem dull — I certainly feel so." 

"I am glad to hear that, my old boy. This trip will cure any 
indisposition you may have, I'll wager. Won't it be too fine, if 
we can pounce down on old Prentice, Jerry Boyle, and a few 
others of the same calibre, and whip them off to Dixie? But the 
cowards, they'll run. I'll venture old Prentice is already sleep- 
ing of nights in Jefferson ville or New Albany. We'll never get 
him, I'm afraid ; he will always manage to keep out of harm's 

Charley made no answer to his friend's remarks, but rode along 
silent and thoughtful. After several fruitless efforts to engage 
him in conversation, Lawrence desisted, and gave himself to 
humming snatches of Southern airs, and indulging in bright 
dreams — many of which, like the dreamings of us all, were never 
to be realized. 

About ten o'clock the column reached Barren river, where 
they halted for the night. Pickets were thrown out — scouts sent 
forward — every precaution was taken to avoid surprise by the foe. 
The remembrance of Lebanon, Tennessee, was yet fresh in their 

Charley was required to do picket duty. The lonely hours of 
the night rolled wearily on, as sullenly he brooded over his great 
grief. How mockingly every sound fell on his ear I how mock- 


irigly every sight met l,is eye! TI.e moonbeam,, n„,>erinK in 

..Iver sheen on the bosom of the quiet.movi„g river; ^the n , ,Ii„^ 

star of heaven; the ,Ieep, dark fores,; the breeze \hat Z 

s s.lenee orep, ; ,he h,w monotone of the cricket; the bayine of 

"Scenes that are brightest awhile may beguile 
Hearts that are Ii,.htest, and eyes that smile ; 
And o er them, above us, Nature n.ay beam- 
But, with none to love us, how dark they seem !>' 




It was Friday morning, July 11th, when Colonel Morgan, with 
about seven hundred men, set out for Lebanon, distant thirty-five 
miles from Barren river. The day was hot and dry ; the burning 
summer's sun looked down from the cloudless heavens above upon 
the parched earth, which reflected back his scorching beams into 
the heated air, until the breath of the Simoom seemed to sweep 
over the land. But the men, neither unnerved by scorching sun or 
winter's icy breath, rode cheerily on. And one, to have seen them 
with their coats off, carelessly hanging from the arm or thrown 
across the horse before them, while the}' jauntily sped along, and 
listened to their gay conversation and merry laughter, would have 
thought it a jocund hunting-party, rather than a band of soldiers, 
far away from friendly assistance, in the heart of an enemy's coun- 
try. Honor, all honor, to those brave men and their gallant 
chieftain, who thus boldly penetrated the lines of the foe, and 
carried terror and destruction throughout his borders ! 

Twenty-nine miles of the rough, weary road had been passed. 
Eleven o'clock at night found this handful of brave men at the 
New Market bridge, on Rolling Fork, six miles from Lebanon. Up 
to this point they had encountered no difficulty. The enemy had 
wisely withdrawn from their path. 

And here they were, hundreds of miles from any force that 
could give them relief — in a hostile country, surrounded on all 
sides by a vengeful foe — everywhere beset by those whose chief 
joy it would be to betray them into the hands of that foe — they 
braved danger in every form, encountered hardship in every phase, 
that they might serve the cause of right and human liberty. 

Lebanon, the county seat of Marion, is a well-located town, 
with a population of several hundreds. It is the terminus of a 
branch of the Louisville and Nashville railroad, and the thorough- 
fare for all the travel and produce from the large extent of coun- 
try surrounding it, which finds outlet at Louisville. It was re- 
garded as a point of great importance by the Federal government, 


and wa.-=i one of the first places in Kentncky pernnanentlv occupied 
by their tiooj)s. Al the lime of which we write, they hurl con- 
centrated at this point a large ainonnt of stores of every de>crii)- 
tion. A coniinodiuus hospital had hcen erected near the to\tn, 
and the lartre -wagon-yards were filled with wagons, atnhnlances, 
and all vehicle para|thernalia. It was a tempting prize to the 
Confederates, and their hrave leader decided to secure it. 

Two companies of the Twenty-eighth Kentncky, under the Fed- 
eral officer, Lieutenant-colonel A. T. Johnston, held the place. So 
rapid had been the movements of Colonel Morgan since he entered 
the State, that but little respecting them could be ascertained with 

The excitement and indignation consequent on the occujiation 
of this town by the Federal troops, had subsided. All was n<»w 
l)eace and quiet — the villagers had grown accustomed to the 
*' blue-coated gentry," and those who detested them and the prin- 
ciples they represented, had learned to regard them with con- 
temptuous silence. 

Suddenly, on the 11th of July, the town was thrown into a 
state of the wildest confusion and alarm. Paimors S[)read through 
the streets that John Morgan and his men, having driven before 
them all the Federal forces in the southern part of the State, 
routing and slaying them at every point, were now marching 
rapidly on Lebanon. Every tongue caught up the fearful intelli- 
gence — from house to house the news was borne — each repetition 
giving a widely exaggerated margin, until the story was indeed 
one of fearful import. Shortly, a dispatch came — this was authentic 
' — and never did questioner of oracular divinity wait with more 
eager fear the decisive response, than did the terrified crowd the 
unfolding of the lightning's message. Alas! it was but little cal- 
culated to still their consternation. 

About noon, the following dispatch was received — 

"John Morgan is twenty miles southwest of Lebanon, near 
the little village of ' Pinch 'Em Slyly,' and will take Lebanon to- 

This confirmation of their fears sped on the wings of the wind, 
and like the morning rumors was soon added to, and so highly 
colored, that the six hours' future became the fearful now. 

Every moment Morgan was expected to rush through the streets. 
"What was to follow his dehut, no one Icneic — each one imagined 
as suited his preconceived opinions and desires. 



The military partook deeply of the fright. Runners were dis- 
paiclied here, there, everywhere, to warn the Home Guiirds to 
hold ihenjselves in readiness for a most fearful attack. One com- 
pany of the Twenty-eighth Kentucky was placed in position for 
oli'en^ive operation?, under command of Captaiu Barth. Dis- 
patclies were sent to Louisville and other points for reinforce- 
ments to be forwarded immediately; the town was but feebly 
defended, and unless assistance was received, it must certainly 

Evening came, but brought no reinforcements. The com- 
mander, Lieutenant-colonel Johnston, was in a sad dilemma. Every 
moment the dreaded toe was ex[)ected to bear down upon his fee- 
ble band with an overwhelming force of veterans. In the con- 
sternation, the bridge across the Rolling Fork was forgotten. It 
was a point of some importance, and migiit be defended. Some 
one mentioned its strength to the terrified conmiander. Immedi- 
ately a squadron of men, composed of volunteers and Home Guard, 
under young Lieutenant Vatlin, was sent out to guard the bridge. 
Pickets were stationed on all the roads leading into the town, for 
no one seemed to have the least idea from what direction Morgan 
would approach. 

Men, women, and children thronged the streets, hurrying to and 
fro with no definite object in view, except to hear the news. 
Stores, groceries, shops, all were closed — their alarmed proprietors 
swaying to and fro with the moving crowd. It is doubtful 
whether a drachm of medicine could have been secured for a 
dying man. 

Hour after hour of fearful suspense rolled by, and yet no enem^ 
came. Half-past eleven o'clock at night a man dashed into the 
town, saying Morgan was at the bridge, only six miles out. The 
guard had fired upon him, and he was in full retreat. This calmed 
the fears of the over-credulous, and some of the weary watchers 
ventured to retire. 

But the Federal commander had too high an appreciation of 
Colonel Morgan's courage to suppose that the force at the bridge 
could thus easily ])ut him to flight. So he ordered two men to 
accompany Lieutenant Fiddler to the bridge, and ascertain the 
true state of affairs and report immediately. 

This Lieutenant Fiddler, a pettifogging lawyer, who used to 
" fiddle" on every possible occasion in all matters, whether of church 
or State, finding his profession wholly unremunerative, *'had en- 
listed," to use his own words, '-under his country's glorious ban- 


ner, to serve his country's glorious cause.'' He was of medium 
heiglit, slim, red-haired, and self-important. He had volunteered 
his services on this momentous occasion as aid to Colonel Johnston. 

Mounted upon his charger, -with a splendid navy pistol at his 
side, he da>hed otl' amid tiie darkness, accompanied hy his body- 
guard of two, to see how matters stood at the bridge. Inllated 
with a sense of Ids own imjjortance, lie spurred on at break-neck 
speed towards the accomplishment of his momentous mission. 

He, with his two aids clo^e beside him, was ascending a hill a 
few hundred yards from New Market, when the three were very 
unexpectedly ordered to halt by the advance guard of Morgan's 
brigade. The fiddling lieutenant debated not a moment. "Wheel- 
ing his horse about, he started out under whip and spur for Leba- 
non, followed by his panting attendants. Shots came whizzing 
around their ears. The clatter of the pursuing horsemen gresv 
every moment nearer. He strained his failing steed to the utmost. 
Already he was distanced by his body-guard, and solus he was 
urging on his fearful gallop, when two of the dreaded foe dashed 
by him and cut otf further retreat. Appropriating horse, equip- 
ments, and revolver, they gave him i)arole and left him to his fate. 

Two miles from this the Confederates encountered the pickets, 
-which were readily driven back upon the main body. Morgan 
sent forward scouts to ascertain tlie enemy's position and num- 
bers. They reported a small force drawn up in line of battle two 
miles ahead. Advancing, he dismounted and de[>loyed two com- 
panies to attack the enemy on the left and right. 

Rapidly, j'et silently, the men marched on. They were not dis- 
covered until they were within a few hundred yards of Johnston's 
comuiand, when they were fired upon by the Federals. They 
rushed forward and returned the fire with a well-directed volley, 
and at the same time the mounted men da-hed uj) in front. 

A general panic seized the enem}', and casting aside guns and 
every thing that could impede their race, they set out, pell-mell, in 
full retreat along the road, over fences, through fields and wood- 
lands, each one striving witii strained nerve to make the best time 
back to the town. Two of their men lay dead upon the field, 
others were wounded so severely that tliey had to be left. The 
Confederates pressed on after the fleeing enemy. In a few min- 
utes Colonel Johnston and sixty-five out of his force of eighty men 
were prisoners. Only thirteen escaped. 

Colonel Morgan, at the head of liis brigade, entered the town 
without further opposition. He was welcomed by many with evi- 


dent manifestations of joy. Taking immediate possession of the 
telegraph office, he learned tliat the 00th Indiana, under C<»l<»nel 
Owens, had been dispatched from the Junction to reinforce John- 

An order was given to Mnjor Gano, of t))e Texas Rangers, to 
proceed with a company and destroy the railroad bridge on the 
Lebanon brand), thus preventing the troops from reaching the 
town. This was successfully accomplished by this young and 
daring officer. 

They were now fully secured from all attacks, and the few re- 
maining hours of the night were spent in rest. 

Early next morning Morgan threw out pickets on every road, 
and then proceeded to the work of inspecting the depots, with their 
stores of sugar, coffee, flour, bread, guns, caj)s, cartridges, powder, 
boots, shoes, hats, etc. Not wishing wilfully to sacritice tliese 
immense commissary stores, he made known to the people his in- 
tention to divide, among those that needed, such portions of the 
captured articles as they luight desire. Great was the rush to the 
depots from every quarter. Men, women, and children, with wheel- 
barrows, baskets, buckets, and every available means of transpor- 
tation, crowded the depot to receive a share of the general spoil. 
Sngar, coffee, and flour were distributed with a generous hand by 
the soldiers aj)pointed for the purpose. 

'■'■ Come, boys," said Colonel St. Ledger Grenfel, who was charged 
with V^ie burning of the depots ; ''come, we must do our work, the 
day passes. Get your torches. We are going to have a grand 
bonfire, of which Uncle Sam will pay the expenses. We have fed 
the hungry and administered to the wants of the needy, and now 
"we must commit this surplus to the flames. But first, boys, take 
for yourselves all you desire. You are entitled to it by right of 
capture. Come, boys, to work.'' 

The ordef was scarcely given, before the boys, eager ft)T the on- 
dertaking, rushed in and fired the building at a dozen points. 

"Now, Captain Koberts, you proceed with your men to the 
ordnance dei)artment, and do likewise.'* 

With alacrity the command followed their leader, and, after 
having secured such arms as the colonel had designated, for the 
arming of new recruits, the men da>hed into the depot, gathered 
up armfuls of guns, and proceeding with them to the nearest avail- 
able point, would batter them over rocks until they were bent 
double; others would pound them with heavy stones, thns render- 
ing the locks entirely useless. It was a scene of the greatest activ- 


ity. The boys would clieer each other witli song: and jest, and kind- 
ly wonl, while the citizens, who grouped round them, joined in the 
meiTinient luid hiughtt-r, irrespective of old javjudices. Cartridge- 
boxes, kegs of powder, cases (»f caps and guns, were indiscrimi- 
nately thrown into a stream that run outside of the town, which 
precluded forever their recovery by the Yankees. 

It was laughable to see the many and ready transformations ef- 
fected by the boys, who, amid tl«e roaring of laughter, stepped 
forth metamorphosed into Lincoln soldiers. Every man who de- 
sired, provided iiimself with a full Yankee outfit — pants, coat, hat, 
bouts, and gun. 

All instructions having been obeyed, the order rang out, '*Now 
fire the buildings, boys." In aa instant, twenty men rushed in 
and applied the burning brand. 

A few moments more, and the flames, crackling and hissing, 
leaped from point to point, until the two large houses were wrap- 
ped in a glaring sheet of fire. As the boys stood gazing on the 
fearful and sublime scene, they sent up shout after shout of tri- 
ainph, their pealing voices rising high above the crashing noise of 
falling timbers and the hissing tongues of fiery flame. 

Colonel Morgan had reserved for himself the superintendence of 
the destructi(»n of tlie large hospital with jts stores. Taking with 
kim A detaciiment of picked men, among whom were Charley, 
Brent, Curd, Irving, and Hawkins, he proceeded to have removed 
to places of safety and comfort, the few Federal sick that there 
were contained in it. Gently, as a brother, he provided for their 
wants. He remembered that, though foes, they were helpless; 
though seeking to destroy his life, they were suffering human be- 
ings. When the last man was beyond danger, the hospital was 
fired. Simultaneously with this, tlie torch was applied to the 
wagons and ambulances, and the flames from these two points, 
combined with those from the burning depots, gave fb the scene 
an aspect of wild and terrible sublimity. Colonel Morgan remain- 
ed long enough to see tfiat iiis purposes were fully executed. Then, 
mounting his horse, he dashed out of the devoted town, followed 
by his jubilant command, and, lighted by the wild, red flames, 
pursued his way to Springfield. 

Cliarley obtained permission to pass the night with his aunt, 
Mrs. Payne, who resided a few miles fn)m Lebanon. There he 
met with young Spalding, who had ju-^t returned from Louisville. 

Tlie two being old. tried friends, having been educated together 
at Bardstou, were delighted to meet again.* Spalding, in the ingen- 


iiouj:nes9 of his soul, recited to Charley all the intelligence he 
possessed, giving a lengthy and most minute descrijjtion of the 
elegant party at Mr. IT.'s. Most of Charley's friends had been 
|)resent on that occasion, and the gay young man deemed he could 
select no topic of equal interest. When he dwelt on the increasing 
devotion of Captain Morton to Mary Lawrence, and the certainty 
of their speedy marriage, Charley's lieart ceased its beatings, his 
soul was pierced as with barbed arrows. 

'' And so you think they will be married, Ben ?" he asked, with 
a mighty effort to control himself, while he felt as one who asked 
for his own death-sentence. 

"No doubt of it, Charley. The city is full of the rumor; in- 
deed, it creates a great deal of gossip, as Miss Mary has hitherto 
been considered unalterably opposed to every thing Federal, even 
so stringent in her views, as to seek the middle of the street, ratlier 
than walk under the old flag. And then she has a brother John, 
her only brother — by the by, is he here with you ? — in the Confed- 
erate service. Her friends are astonished at her course, and some 
blame her in unsparing terms. But Morton is rich, you know, and 
a very fascinating fellow in his manner ; but, in my judgment, by 
no means worthy of Miss Lawrence. You know his habits are very 
loose, and no one gives him credit for patriotism in donning the 
Yankee uniform. He only desired to be important, the w^orld says." 

Charley made no reply to the remarks of his friend. He dare 
not trust himself with words. The last ray of hope was gone. 
Shipwrecked on life's sea, he was lost, forever lost. The future, 
rayless darkness; the present, a Pron:iethean fire; the past, a tan- 
talizing dream. Deceived, betrayed, wrecked by the beautiful 
idol of his soul, whom his pure, trusting heart had worshipped 
with more than earthly devotion, henceforth, the world to him 
must prove a cold, barren waste, life a weary weight, which must 
be borne as the prisoner does his galling, clanking chains. 

In torturing thought the night was spent. The following morn- 
ing found him in the saddle, ready to start forward to join the 
command. He waited not to bid adieu to his friends. He felt all 
earthly ties snapped forever. Henceforth, he would court death. 




Captain Jack Allen hnd been dispatched from Barren river 
■with three companies, to destroy the bridge over Salt river at 
Shepardsville. But, before reaching his destination, he was en- 
countered by a force that had been sent from the Lebancm Junc- 
tion to reinforce Johnston at Lebanon. After a sharp engagement, 
he was repulsed with the loss of one man killed, lie then pro- 
ceeded to Springfield, where he rejoined Cohmel Morgan, who had 
moved to this point after the capture of Lebanon. From liere 
Captain Allen advanced with a squad of men to Taylorsville, from 
whence he sent forward a small force under Captain Champ Fer- 
guson in the direction of Shelbyville, in order to menace Frank- 
fort, thereby preventing reinforcements being sent from this place 
to Lexington or Paris. 

At Shelbyville, when it became known that Morgan's men wero 
in the vicinity, the wildest confusion prevailed. Here, as at Le- 
banon, the most conflicting rumors ran riot through tiie streets. 

'^ Morgan is assuredly marching on Shelbyville," cried out one. 

^'It is so, for a reliable gentleman has just seen bis men only a 
few miles from the town." 

''He is coming from Taylorsville on the Mount Eden road, and 
no mistake," asserted another. 

A few minutes more, and a man, breathless with excitement, 
dashed into the town, declaring •' he himself had seen Morgan's 
men, and their horses' heads were set towards Shelbyville, and 
they would be there in a few minutes — half an hour at the outside." 
This time he was approaching from the direction of Louisville. 

'' He is on his way to Frankfort, and must necessarily pass 
through here," argued another. And thus it was settled, Shelby- 
ville, par necessite, must receive a visit from the dreaded chieftain. 

The funds were hastily extracted from the bank vault, and 
dispatched under strong escort to Louisville. The Home Guard 
were called upon to defend the place. In the most hurry-skurry 
manner that could be conceived, they hastened to arm themselves, 


and fifter much more noise and confusion than a skilful general 
would liave made in preparing an army for battle, they finally 
succeeded in forming themselves into something like an orderly 
line, and stood prepared to meet the impending crisis. 

Men flocked to the town to hear the news, each one receiving 
a different statement from every informant he met. The day 
wore on — every hour the excitement grew more and more intense. 
And by the early evening it was asserted as a fact, beyond the 
shadow of doubt, that Morgan, with hundreds of men, was withia 
a few miles of the place, and would be upt)n it directly. At this 
intelligence the Home Guard suddenly broke ranks, and fled in 
every possible direction, never for a moment slackening their 
pace until they were assured that danger no longer beset them. 

Henry F. Middleton, a most rabid Lincolnite, editor of the town 
sheet called the Weekly News — every issue of which dealt out 
the most unsparing abuse of the North, and of all that pertained 
thereto — hastily gathered u[) his family and valuables, and, with- 
out waiting to procure a more suitable conveyance, jumped into a 
furniture car, with some free darkies, drove off at lightning speed, 
and never halted until he was fifteen miles from the enemy. 

A council was called to see what was best to be done under this 
most alarming exigency. The defenders of the town had fled — 
the editor was oft' with his valuables, many of the prominent 
Union men of all ages were gone, no one knew whither — every- 
body was panic-striken. What could be done but surrender the 
place to this formidable chieftain? After much debate, it was 
decided that this slionld be done, and two of the council were 
proposed as fit personages to set out under a flag of truce, to meet, 
the dreaded hero, and tender him possession of the place. 

And now the question arose, ''who should go?" Here was a 
dilemma. Union men were afraid to venture. Southern men 
said it was a matter of no moment to them whether the town was 
given up or not. They did not fear John Morgan and his men, 
and if he chose to take the place, they were content. 

Finally, after much ado, a Southern man, who had enjoyed the 
sport to his greatest satisfiction, and who felt his heart moved 
with compassion for the helpless women and children so nearly 
dead with fright, consented to be one of the flag-bearers. But 
now a new difficulty arose. The few loyal men left did not know 
bow to get up a flag fur the occasion. '* They wanted no mistake 
about it — Morgan was a terrible man, mighty particular, and must 
have things done upon the square." 


\ The ladies were itnportuned to assist in finding a suitable emblem 
of submission, and tiu:illy succeeded in procuring one that satis- 
fied the mo>t faint-hearted Union ct>\vard. 

Out went the truce-bearers, followeil by tiie prayers and tears 
<»f the anxious multitude. On tliey rode, bearing high aloft their 
iniMi:iouI:ite ensign. 

Pursuing the route of the reported approach, they passed on, 
mile after mile; but no enemy appeared. Strange, wild stories 
met them at every step. But nothing could be credited. Feel- 
ing, at last, that they had pursued tho fleeing phantom far enough, 
they wheeled their horses, and galloped buck to town to relieve 
tiie fears of the friends who awaited their return in torturing 

Meanwhile, Colonel Morgan was quietly pursuing his way 
through Si»rin*gfield to Macksville, where he arrived late in the 
evening. Here he rested for a while, and here was attacked by 
the Hnme Guard, who, after the exchange of a few ^hots, were 
routed — not, however, until they had severely wounded one of 
his men, and taken two others prisoners. 

Mi)rgMn, finding two of his boys captives in the hands of the en- 
emy, determined not to leave the place until they were recovered. 

Seizing upon two of the most prominent Union men in the little 
town, he made it known that they should not be released until his 
men were restored. This had the expected effect, and early the 
next morning the two missing men found their way to camp. 

From Macksville a detachment was thrown across the country 
to the Lebanon pike, to threaten Danville from the southwest. 

'•Tliis looks but little like getting to Louisville," said Charley, 
despairingly, to Lawrence and Brent, as the three paused for a few 
minute>'' rest beneath the shade of an old sycamore-tree that 
stood by the roadside. He sighed deeply, while his expression 
grew noticeably sad. 

'' Oh, don't be so down-hearted," remonstrated Brent. " Why, 
Charley, you have grown to be the unhappiest of luckless wights. 
What has wrought such a change in you? You were formerly full 
of spirit and fun, but now you are spiritless, and full of sighs and 
sorrows. You haven't smiled half a dozen times since it wa3 
known that we were turning back into Kentucky. You must be 
8'»rry at the promise of getting home. Come, come, you must 
rally, my friend. Never mind the sweetheart now. We must 
whip the Yankees first, achieve our independence, and then woo 
and win the fair Desdemona." 


Charley paled, then reddened atxhe remarks of his friend. Did 
Brent know his secret? How could he have heard it? If not, 
wlij should he have spoken as he had just done ? He endeav- 
ored to reply, but could only stammer out a few incoherent words, 
while his color deepened, and his whole manner became con- 

•• Caught, Charley, caught, my boy," exclaimed young Morgan, 
who, with Curd and Irving and two others, had joined the group 
under the tree. " You need not deny it. We all see you are in 
love, and desperately too. Xow make a clean breast of it, and tell 
us all about the fair one. We will sit here on this grass, and listen 
to your tale of love and trial, and perhaps we will all relate our 

'•Capital suggestion, Cal. What say you, Charley?" called 
out young Curd, as he dismounted, and throwing his bridle rein 
over his horse's neck, seated himself on a projecting root of the 
tree. "I sympathize with you, Charley, for I too remember well 
a dark eyed girl of Lexington. Cal., you can't appropriately 
laugh at Charley. You are wild now to get back to see your lady- 
love. Remember your fancies, at Lebanon." 

" Come, Ed., you are not going to betray me. Don't you know 
yon are masonically bound to keep my love affairs secret?" 

'• Oh no, Cal., I'll not betray you ; but I have no idea of laugh- 
ing Charley out of his spurs, when I'd venture, if the truth was 
known, we are all in the same fix." 

'' Don't doubt," interposed Irving. '• I own up to the weak- 

''But, boys, you have the advantage of Charley and myself," 
interposed Lawrence. " Y"ou expect very soon to be at home, 
where you can enjoy the delectable society of your lady-loves, 
while we have not the most remote prospect of such happiness." 

"Oh, don't speak so discouragingly of our chances, Lawrence," 
ejaculated Brent, rising from his seat. "There is hope for us. 
What shall we do when we get to Frankfort, but sweep down on 
Louisville? The good people there will wake up some morning 
to the clatter of our horses' hoofs, as we dash along its sounding 
streets, and the cry will ring out from square to square, 'Louis- 
ville is fallen ! Louisville is fallen ! John Morgan and his men have 
sxot possession of us sinners !' " 

The boys shouted in wild merriment as young Brent closed his 

•'Come, boys, dismount^ and refresh yourselves in this grateful 



Phafle. Wliy do you set perched up there on your liorses in that 
burning sun?" 

"Indeed, boys, we must hasten on," replied young Morgan, 
taking out his watch, and looking at the liour. '' You know we 
must pay our respects to tlie Danville Home Guard before diimer." 

TVitii'je^t and laughter the detachment of thirty sped along, 
little dreaming of the wild dread their approach was sending into 
the hearts of the good people of Danville. 




If the consternation of Lebanon anfl Shelbyville was great, what 
shall be said of Danville, that seething cauldron of Unionism? — 
the birthplace of Colonel Smith Fry, who, with brutal coarseness, 
boasted that " he killed Zollicoffer V and of General Jeremiah S. 
Boyle, who has publicly asserted that ''he would wade through 
the blood of his wife and children rather than this rebellion should 
succeed." Glorious patriots ! How approvingly humanity must 
laud your noble sentiments ! 

Colonel Morgan's de^ds at Lebanon had reached the anxious 
ears of the Danvilians, and filled their hearts with terror. They 
knew their guilt in oppressing the Southern men in their midst, 
and while, like the Babylonian king, they saw the handwriting 
on the wall, fear seized their souls. There was alarm, anxiety, 
consternation, depicted on every face. Fear and confusion charac- 
terized every movement. 

The cry went out for "help, help!" The captain of the 
Guard, who lived two miles out in the country, on receiving the 
frightful news of Morgan's approach, galloped into town with all 
the dignity befitting his position and the momentous crisis, al- 
though it required but a glance to perceive that he was quaking 
within. Runners were sent to and fro to inform the Home Guard 
to assemble immediately. 

Tlie money was taken from the bank, deposited in an express- 
wagon, placed in charge of Mr. Rice, a rabid old Unionist, who, 
mounting the seat, dashed oflT as fast as the horses could go to- 
wards Lexington, with instructions not to stop short of Cincinnati. 
Ladies gathered together their silver and other valuables, and 
boxing them up, dispatched them, post-haste, to a place oFsafety 
in the country. They buried their linen and bedding, and bidding 
a hurried adieu to their homes, jumped into carriages, wagons, 
and every available vehicle, and left for safer points. 

Old men, whose lieads were bleached by age, suddenly fired 


"with patriotism, seized their iriins, and rushed out "to defend their 
homes from the lawle>s invader." 

Some \va<; facetiously named the lieroic hand of venerahle sires 
" The Silver Grays,'" and it was serio-comic to see them strutting 
around armed cap-a pie. 

Through the desperate exertions of the bustling captain, mat- 
ters at last assumed somewhat of form. About sixty men were 
assembled, armed, and ready ft)r the fray. Pickets were thrown 
tiirwanl on tlie Lebanon, Perry ville, and Harrodsburg roads. 

Morgan was advancing u|)on the city, no one knew from what 
point. Here, as at Shelbyville, the wildest and most contradic- 
tory rumors filled the streets. Finally, scouts were sent out to 
ascertain the truth of the matter. The one sent forward on the 
Lebanon ]>ike, came dashing into town after a half liour, in the 
highest degree of excitement, breathless with fear, his eyes start- 
ing from their sockets, and his whole appearance that of a madman. 
" He had seen Morgan, no doubt about it, and his men covered 
the whole face of the earth. No use trying to hold the town — 
men enough to take away every house, not to talk about people." 

When this most alarming intelligence was received, the town 
became frantic. Men hurried to and fro as if an evil deity had 
imposed on them this fearful penance to expiate some dreadful 
crime. Women, pale with affright, dashed through their houses, 
seizing on any thing that met their hands, to bear it off to some 
secure point, or stood hopelessly despairing at front doors and 
windows to hear the latest news. Ciiildren, following the example 
of the men and women, drove about like masqueraders at carnival. 
Hurried ccmsulfations were held at every corner of the streets, 
but no one could tell what was best to be done. At length, after 
much general debate, it was decided to move out the armed force 
to Dix River Cliffs, and there fortify. 

This point was six miles from the town, and in a direction dia- 
metrically opposite to the one from which Morgan was expected. 
Accordingly, this gallant land of patriots darted out pell-mell, 
some mounted, some on foot, to begin their all-important work of 
'■'fortifying Banrille^'^ six miles out, and fully twelve miles from 
the nearest advance of the enemy. 

During this last scene, to the ludicrousness of whicli no language 
could do justice, some Soutliern boys, who had been hugely en- 
joying the fright of their Union neighbors throughout the day, 
conceived the idea of heightening the effect of the^dinma. 

Understanding that the '" nolle defenders'"' vievQ to march out 


and begin nctive preparations for the erection of suitable fortifica- 
tions, they hired some negroes to follow after them at rapid pace 
with empty wagons. Then setting out before the armed heroes, 
the boys reached the Cliffs first, and secreted themselves where 
they could hear all that passed, without being themselves observed. 

On, amid the deepening twilight, at break-neck speed, the brave 
band moved towards the river, each one discoursing on the mo- 
mentous crisis that had overtaken them. Suddenly, as they were 
nearing their Thermopyla3, a strange and fearful sound met theii 
ears. What could it be? they asked each other in breathless 
anxiety. Were they pursued ? Was the dread enemy hard after 
them? It must be so. Dreadful thought! 

''Hist! Hist, boys, be quiet; let me listen," said one of their 
number — Jack Webb, by name — a very important personage, in- 
deed, since he had been at the battle of Fishing Creek. "I know 
all these war sounds, and can tell in a minute tije noise of cannons, 
and horses, and infantry, and all such things. Stop, men, and be 
right still while I listen. I can soon tell whether it is the enemy 
or not." 

Every thing halted in breathless suspense. Jack stooped down 
and placed his ear close to the pike. It was a moment of fearful 

"Can't tell, boys, yet; sounds mighty like the enemy: wait a 
moment till it comes a little nearer." 

It was asking a great deal of these patriots to wait until the en- 
emy should get a little nearer, but they submitted most heroically. 

'' You stop here, boys, and I'll go back to the top of the hill 
yonder. Maybe I can hear better there." 

Jack had gone but a minute, when he came rushing wildly back, 
crying out at the top of his voice, "Enemy, boys — flying artillery 
— enemy upon us fast as they can dash ; no mistake !" 

Just then the report of several pistol-shots reverberated along 
the cliffs to their right. 

"The enemy is upon us — every man look out for himself!" was 
the order of tiie terrified captain. 

In a moment, the men were scattered in wild confusion, each 
one rushing for dear life along the road that led to Nicholasville, 
twenty miles distant; nor did they stop until that point was gain- 
ed. Never was there a more inglorious finale of warlike prepara- 
tion for defence. Surely the bards of Danville, through all com- 
ing time, will. delight to sing in stirring verse the heroic deeds of 
her brave defenders. 




" Father, father! do see here!" exclaimed Mary Lawrence, 
eagerly, as she rushed into the break fast- room, a fuw mornings 
after the party ^ Mr. H.'s. Her face was beaming with delight. 
The soft, auburn curls were thrown back from the blue-veined 
temples, her cheeks were of the brightest rose-hue, while her largo, 
blue eyes spoke out from their soft depths, as gladly as if the soul 
within had received a heavenly inspiration. With her bright, airy 
morning-wrapper, confined at the waist with a simple sash of blue 
ribbon, floating out on the breeze as she entered through the open 
door, she looked more like a Hebe than a child of human mould. 
'•'■ Here, father, here, do read that," and holding the paper before 
liim, while she threw an arm around his neck, she called his atten- 
tion to an editorial i)aragraph. Pausing a .moment for the father 
to read the announcement, she exclaimed, " Isn't that glorious 
news? John Morgan coming into Kentucky — coming right here 
to Louisville, and will bring brother and all our friends with him I 
Oh, I am wild with delight. What a blissful time we shall have!'* 

""But, perhaps, Colonel Morgan will not reach Louisville, my 
child, even if he should come into the State." 

"Oh, yes he will, father. Don't you see old Prentice is scared 
out of his wits ; and that, you know, is a fine indication. I ara 
sure the Confederates will come to Louisville !" And Mary clapped 
her hands and commenced to waltz gracefully round the breakfast- 

'' Oh, my child, do not grow too ecstatic," said the mother, gaz- 
ing with a look of tender, reproachful love upon her beautiful 
daughter. '' It is scarcely possible that Colonel Morgan will reach 
Louisville. His force cannot be suflicient to take the city; and, 
moreover, there is nothing here to induce him to come. I judge 
the object of his visit to our State is to obtain recruits and horses, 
neither of which he would find here." 

An expression of sad disappointment, in a moment, overspread 
the young girl's face and manner. She threw herself into her ac- 


cnstomed seat at her motlier's right, .and supporting her head with 
her hand, while her elbow rested on the table, looked inquiringly 
into her motlier's face. 

Mrs. Lawrence was a woman of most excellent judgment, and 
lier word had ever been law with her household, because every 
member of the family daily felt her superior wisdom and justice. 
She was one of the loveliest of women, gentle, kind, thoughtful, 
and, at the same time, firm, decided, even unyielding in a mutter 
oi right. She had been deeply pious from her earliest girlhood, and 
the Spirit of all grace in her heart, had moulded her manner and 
expression of face into sweet conformity to Its own gentle teach- 
ings. She had, for a long while, been a great sflFerer, her bodily 
infirmities increasing with each year, and now she was so enfeebled 
as scarcely to be able to leave her house. But, while thus slowly 
passing to the far-olF land, mid pain and weakness, she grew day 
by day strong in faith, and that abiding hope which irradiates with 
heavenly beauty the darkest path ever pressed by the weary feet 
of the earth-pilgrim. 

''O, father, don't you think Colonel Morgan will come here? 
He has so many Louisville boys with him ; and then it would be 
such a satisfaction to us Southern people. He ought to come to 
release i>s from bondage, if nothing more. And there is old Pren- 
tice. Morgan ought to have him and ride him down to Dixie. A 
trip of this kind, I am s<ure, would improve his morals. Don't you 
think it is possi-ble that tiie Southerners may come here, father?" 

'' No, my daughter. You need not revel in that anticipation. I 
am convinced they will visit central Kentucky, remain there a 
short time, and then leave the State." 

"Too bad — too bad!" ejaculated Mary, as she raised the cup of 
coffee to her li[)S and sip))ed it. Placing it nervously back in the 
saucer, she looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then her 
face lighted up with the new ideas that flashed through her mind, 
and, smiling to herself, she again sipi)ed the coffee, and glancing 
up to her mother, was about to speak, when she suddenly checked 
herself and remained silent. 

The mother's sweet, sad face was very thoughtful. Her heart 
was with her boy. She longed to see him once more before her 
eyes should close in death. She knew her stay on earth must be 
brief: that before the flowers should fade, and nature clothe her- 
self again in the emblems of death, she might be quietly resting 
from her labors beneath the green hillock. 

The father folded the paper, and mechanically placing it beside 
him, fell into a grave, quiet mood. 


The (loor-bell rang. Mary started nervously. The servant 
entered, bearing a card from Captain Morton, and handed it to her 
young mistress. It was a retjuest for the pleasure of Miss Law- 
rence's company for an evening ride. An apology for the early 
intrusion accompanied the note. He was going immediately to 
the country, and would not be back until the afternoon. 

" Bring me my escritoir, Maria." The girl obeyed the bidding. 
The mother looked at her daughter for an explanation. Mary 
never had any secrets from her loved parent — only one thing, her 
engagement with Charley R., had she ever withheld. 

"From Ca[)tain Morton," she answered to her mother's inter- 
rogatory look. ^le wishes me to ride with him this evening at 
five o'clock," 

"And will you go?" 

" I cannot, mother ; I have other plans." The servant returned 
with the writing-desk. Mary took from it a card, penned a deli- 
cate refusal, and enveloping it, dispatched it to the servant in 
waiting at the door. 

''Mother," said the young girl, breaking the silence that had 
reigned for several minutes, ''I should like to go to Frankfort this 

The mother looked up astonished at the request. 

" Go to Frankfort, Mary ! when that courftry will be filled with 
armed men in conflict!" 

'' Ah, they will not hurt me, mother ; I have no fear. I wish 
so much to see brother ; and I am sure I shall do so, if I can only 
get into central Kentucky," 

'• Would you go alone, my daughter ?" 

"Oh, no; I am sure cousin Frank will gladly accompany me. 
May I go if he will ? Say, father, won't you consent? You know 
cousin will take good care of me." 

"I don't knoWj Mary, that you will be in any danger in going 
to Frankfort; but I do not think you will get to see your brother." 

'•But let me go. May I, mother? "What do you say ? You 
won't object, I know ?" 

"You must first see if your cousin Frank will go with you. I 
could not permit you to set out without him." 

'•Oh, I will go and see him. I am sure he will be delighted to 
have an opportimity to take a lirtle recreation." 

Mary sjirang from the table and ran to her own room, enthusi- 
astic at the thought of accomplishing the plan that had so forcibly 
presented itself to her as she sat tasting her coffeo. 


In an incredibly short time she was bonneted and ready to se|; 
ont. As she reached tlie door, slie encountered C;iptain Morton. 

His face was clouded, and liis look one of unusual sternness. 
'M.ary started back as she beheld him. Recovering herself, she in- 
vited him into the parlor. 

" I wish to see you for a few minutes only." 

She motioned him to the hall sofa. 

"I called, Miss Mary, to see why you refused to ride with me 
this evening. It is tiie first time, and I, of course, felt surprised." 
He fixed a penetrating look upon her as he spoke. 

Feeling that he had no right to address her thus, the young girl 
straightened herself up, and with most perfect calmness replied : 

" I have other engagements for the evening. Captain Morton. 
I presume this explanation will suffice," and she compressed her 
lips and assumed an air of hauteur which repelled further inquiry. 

The color rushed to the face of the excited captain. He was 
foiled. Seeing and fully appreciating the liopelessness of any 
further attempt to secure a satisfactory explanation, he took his 
hat from the stand, and, bowing stiffly, left. 

Two o'clock came. The hour found Mary, escorted by " cousin" 
Frank, at the depot, ready to take the cars. 

"Poor Lu ! She will be so sorry that she went to visit her 
friends in Ohio, when she hears that Morgan has been in the State. 
She set out yesterday morning for Cincinnati. Did you see her, 
Frank ?" 

''Only in passing. She has not been to see us since the party 
at Mr. H.'s. I have met her on the street once since then, and 
she only bowed coldly and passed on. Something is wrong with 
her, I am sure. I intended to go out and see her, and ask her 
what it is ; but mother, you know, has been so feeble most of the 
time. I did not wish to leave her. Oh, I am so happy she is better 

The car-whistle sounded. Mary and her cousin entered and 
seated themselves. A few minutes more, and they were merrily 
speeding their way to the " City of Hills." 




Leaving Macksville on Sunday morning, Colonel Morgan pressed 
forward to Harrodsburg, which point he reached about noon. 

As the column rode listlessly along, the colonel conversing with 
Captain Duke and Colonel St. Ledger, on their recent successes 
and future plans, Morgan's keen eye discerned in the distance two 
suspicious-looking horsemen. Calling upon Captain Castleman, 
be ordered him to take four men witii him and pursue. 

The five, driving the rowels deep into the sides of their horses, 
dashed forward. They had been gone but a siiort time before 
they were seen returning, bearing with them as prisoners a Federal 
captain and lieutenant. 

On reaching Harrodsburg, Colonel Morgan found that the Home 
Guard from all that section of the country had fled to Lexington. 
'Eeceiving no encouragement from the citizens to protect them, 
and deeming their own personal safety could be far better secured 
by flight than fight, they had precipitately set ofif at the first note 
of alarm. 

The whole population of the town turned out to welcome Mor- 
gan and his gallant men. Ladies and children appeared on the 
streets to hail them as friends. Handkerchiefs were waved from 
every window, and bouquets, arranged with artistic taste, were 
showered upon their passing ranks. Smiles, cheers, and pleasant 
words met them everywhere. 

Gaining the public square. Colonel Morgan ordered his men to 
halt and alight. In a moment the boys were surrounded by men, 
women, and children, eager to shake their hands and present them 
with every token of sympathy and respect. 

The few Union individuals in the town, whether from policy or 
admiration, vied with their neighbors in acts of kindness and re- 

The scene was like a grand holiday occasion, where every one, 
happy himself, felt it a pleasure to contribute to the happiness of 
•verv one he met. 


The men were invited into private liouses to dine, and when 
they refused, because of their dusty and neglected appearance, 
ba>kets, laden with the nicest edibles, were sent out in tiie great- 
est profusion. There was scarce a housekeeper in all the town who 
did not that day prepare some daint}^ for " Morgan's men." And 
an old Ufiion man, who had hitherto trembled at the very name 
of Morgan,' providing himself with a basket of the best his wife's 
pantry could afford, went in person to present it to the dreaded 
chieftain, who received it with such a pleasant smile and polite 
bow, as completely won the lifelong admiration of old Mr. Sa- 

After having partaken of the kindly cheer of the good people 
of ^arrod^burg, Colonel Morgan set out for Lawrenceburg, twenty 
miles distant. In the mean time, he had sent forward a detach- 
ment to threaten Frankfort on the left, and another to menace 
Nicholasvilie on the rigiit. 

The whole country was in an uproar — Frankfort, Lexington, 
Niciiolasville, Lawrenceburg, Ver.-ailles, were all seriou.^ly menaced. 
Tiie Home Guard had fled in tiie wildest confusion from the minor 
towns, and concentrated in Lexington and Frankfort. At the 
latter point there was assembled a force of about three thousand 
Home Guards and regular troops. Nicholasville and Versailles 
were deserted. The shops were all closed, ^nd the citizens awaited 
in anxious suspense the approach of the formidable column. 

In Lexington the scene was widely different. Dispatches had 
been sent to Cincinnati for troops to assist in defending the place. 
All business was suspended — the stores shut up. Persons might 
be seen hurrying to and fro through the streets, as if bestirred by 
the fearful voice of an earthquake. Martial law was proclaimed, 
and every man found on the street was immediately placed under 

It was more than a man's life was worth to whisper the name 
of Morgan. A citizens^ guard was organized, and authorized to 
arrest or shoot down any man found unarmed on the streets, so 
eager was their thirst for the blood of Southern sympathizers. 

Various rumors, wholly conflicting with each other, were caught 
up and repeated at every corner of the streets by men whose fa- 
naticism manifested it>elf alone in curiosity and excitement. 

'• Morgan was at Midway ! Moigan was at Nicliolasvilie ! Mor- 
gan was approaching the town from Versailles ! Morgan was en- 
tering Harrod.sburg ! Morgan was within ^ix miles of the city with 
ten thousand men !" 


Then came tlie tlirilliiig tidiiijjs that tlie fight liad commenced 
at Frankfort. What should be (h)ne? Couhl troops he Jjpared 
for poor bt>iegfd Fianktort ? If men were sent, might not the 
uli(|ijitous suddenly swoop down upon Lexington? The 
Eighty titfh Ohio, under Colonel Sowers, had ja>t reached the city 
from Camp Chase. It was decided to dispatch this regiment to 
the relief of Frankfort. But one company mutinied outright. It 
was more than they had bargained for. They had set out for Lex- 
ington, and would iu)t go a nule further. Tlie officers took the 
matter in hand, and after some coaxing, mixed with threats and 
curses, they succeeded in bringing the men to the point of ac- 
quiescence, and off the troops set, at railroad dash, for Frank- 

All these movements being made known by telegraph in Louis- 
ville, that great city was thrown into a state of the most ludic- 
rous confusion. Troops were ordered over from Jeffersonville ; 
regiments were recalled from the Nashville road; bank vaults 
were robbed of their contents, which were inclosed in strong 
boxes for ready shipment across the river. Drays were kept la 
readiness for this purpose before the bank doors. The greater 
portion of the type of the daily press was packed up, and landed 
safely on Indiana soil. Armed men were rushing about, seemingly 
with no other object in view than to scare timid men and women 
out of their senses. Forces were hastened to the Lexington depot, 
but scarcely had they reached there before the order was coun- 
termanded, and they were marched back again. Headquarters 
were besieged by crowds of pale and anxious citizens, eager to 
catch one item of reliable information. The streets were literally 
blockaded by the rushing mass, all on the qui vive for intelligence 
from Morgan. 

Cavalry from Nashville dashed through the crowded streets, 
their headlong speed and clanging swords adding to the already 
wild furore. 

News came that Morgan was at Shelbyville, and would be at 
Louisville that night. Then ran along the seething multitude the 
rumor that martial law had been proclaimed, and every man capa- 
ble of bearing arms was to be called out in defence of the city. 
This soon silenced, to a great extent, the crowded streets. Many 
of the Union patriots were unwilling to risk themselves in the 
presence of Confederate bullets, and deemed it more prudent to 
retire to their own peaceful dwellings, and there keep as quiet as 
their excited nerves would permit them to do. 


During the grand melee Southern sympathizers looked on at the 
farce with inward saiisifaction. They did not tor a moment believe 
that Morgan would attack the city, but they were quite willing 
that their Union friends should think so. 

While this fearful panic was shaking Louisville, Frankfort, and 
Lexington to their centre, giving rise to numberless ridiculous 
scenes. Colonel Morgan was quietly pursuing his way, as we have 
said, from Macksville, through Harrodsburg to Lawrenceburg. 

Keaching this latter place Sunday night, Morgan remained 
until his scouts came in from Frankfort and other points. He 
then proceeded to Versailles, crossing the Kentucky river at 
Shryock's ferry. Here he found the boat sunken in the stream 
by the Home Guard as they moved ou in their ignominious flight 
to Lexington. 

About sunset on Monday evening Colonel Morgan, at the head 
of his command, entered the streets of Versailles, twelve miles 
distant from Lexington, and about as far from Georgetown. 

'' Here, boys, is a rich prize," said the colonel to his men, as 
dashing along the street he discovered about three hundred horses 
and mules belonging to the Federal government. "If any of you 
have sorry horses, here is a fine opportunity to exchange them for 
better ones. Help yourselves. Uncle Sam will not dare to enter 
a protest, I presume." 

The little band was now situated in the midst of the enemy. 
At Lexington, on their immediate right, and only twelve miles 
distant, there was a considerable force under the commandant of 
the post. Brigadier-general Ward. At Frankfort, about equi- 
distant on their left, were three times their number of men, some 
of them regular troops. Either point could be reinforced at a few 
hours' warning. 

Colonel Morgan fully appreciated the danger. He ordered 
pickets thrown out on every outlet from the town, and command- 
ed that his men should hold themselves in readiness for attack at 
any moment. The men sat sleeping on the pavements, tiieir 
bridles resting in their hand, their arms beside them, ready at a 
moment's warning to mount and meet the foe. But no foe came. 
He was glad enough to be left to act on the defensive. 

At dawn on the following morning, the command was ordered 
to be ready in an hour to set out for some other point. Promptly 
the command was obeyed, and as the sun, climbing up the sides 
of the morning, threw his first beams over the summer's land- 
scape, the wlBDle force set out at a brisk pace for their unknown 


destination. The Lexington boys lioped to be led to their homes 
and friends; the Louisville boys turned their anxious, longing 
thou<;hts towards liiat city. 

'•Not to Lexington to-day, boys," said Captain Castloman, with 
a sigh, as the column advanced along the road leading to Midway. 
''But, I do hope iwe siiall yet have an o[)portunity to look in 
on our friends and sweethearts before we leave tiiis part of the 

"Really, it doesn't look much as if we shall, Castleman," re- 
plie<l Irving. F«)r my part, I third: I shall don my ^Lincoln blue^^ 
and try my hand at deceiving the Yankee pickets. What say you, 
Curd and Morgan ? Wouldn't you venture this much to see those 
lovely girls you were speaking of a day or two ago?" 

'•Aye, and more than this, Irving, for the accomplishment of 
an object so desirable. Just insure us we shall see those angelic 
beings, and get back with whole bones, and we'll risk every tiling. 
Won't we, Cal. ?" 

" Any thing, Curd, short of grim death itself," responded young 

"Bur, Morgan, how is it — " 

''Hult!" rang along the line, suddenly breaking in upon the 
yonng men's fancies and earnest conversation. 

'• Morgan !" called out an aid, dashing to the rear. '' The col- 
onel wants his brother immediately." 

The column -was rapidly nearing the Lexington and Louisville 
railroad. Ccdonel Morgan had been informed that the train from 
Frankfort, having on board two regiments of Federals, would be 
due in a few minutes, and he determined to secure it. 

Accordingly, he dispatched a squad of men to tear up the track 
in front. Another force was ordered to look to their guns and 
station themselves in position on either side of the road ; while 
yet another company was given charge of the howitzers, which 
were so placed as to fully command the road at the point where 
it was supposed the cars should stop. 

Colonel Morgan, with his operator, Mr. Ellsworth, repaired to 
the telegra{)h office, and took possession. They had been but a 
few minutes there, wlien a telegram from Lexington came flashing 
along the wires. 

'* Is it safe to start the train from Lexington ? We hear Morgan 
is on the road." 

'' All safe — let the train come," was Ellsworth's answer. 

Immediately preparations were made to give the train due re- 


ception. Bre.itlilessly the men waited. Drawn np in line of bat- 
tle, ft»r one hour they stood momentarily expecting the prize. But 
the alarm had been given, and the trains retraced their steps in 
hot haste — one to Lexington, the other to Frankfort. 

Being convinced that the enemy had been warned, and that noth- 
ing could be gained by longer delay. Colonel Alorgan moved on 
towards Georgetown. As he neared the town, he was informed 
that some Home Guards liad assembled to dispute his entrance. 
He halted, and sent in a demand for surrender. But nowhere 
were armed men to be found. Like their copatriots of other 
I>laces, they had precipitately fled to Lexington for safety. 

At Georgetown, as in Ilarrodsburg, shouts of welcome greeted 
the approach of tlie Confederates. Every preparation was made 
by the citizens to entertain them in a manner worthy of their 
chivalrous deeds and gallant daring. 

All knew and appreciated the brilliant record these noble men 
had made in defence of liberty and right, and they dared to mani- 
fest their approbation, though it might cost them their freedom 
and property. 

Union men were everywhere left unmolested. Many had fled, 
leaving their families behind them. Some remained, willing to 
trust the magnanimity of Colonel Morgan, whose conduct on all 
occasions had taught them that they had nothing to fear at the 
hands of Kentucky's noble son. 




As the troops were passing in column along the main street of 
the town, amid the glad cheers of the ladies and children who 
everywhere thronged the pavement, Ciiarley's attention was sud- 
denly arrested by hearing his name pronounced in soft, clear tones. 

He looked in the direction from whence the sound proceeded, 
and discovered a group of females standing on the front balcony of 
one of the houses to his right. One was slightly in advance of 
the others, leaning over the banister and waving a kandkerchief 
to the soldiers, as they slowly filed along. 

She was dressed in a simple white muslin, confined at the waist 
by a long sash of blue ribbon. A wreath of natural flowers gar- 
landed her soft auburn curls. 

Charley's heart stood still as his eye rested on this beautiful 
female figure, so like that of Mary. Bending forward, he gazed 
earnestly upon it. His eyes dilated to their fullest extent, and his 
lips paled with fearful anxiety. Could it be Mary? Ah, no — it 
was injpos^ible. Surely he was mistaken ! And yet so like — that 
form, those curls, that sweet, glad face. It must be — and yet how 
was it possible ? He gazed, and gazed, as one bewildered by some 
bright, fascinating object, which he could not comprehend, and 
yet from which he dare not turn. 

*' Charley, Charley ! don't you know me ?" spoke the same 
sweet tones. 

Ah, that voice — he could not mistake it. It must be Mary. It 
could be none other. 

His first impulse was to spring from his horse and clasp her to 
his bosom — his heart's own idol — the day-star of his destiny. But, 
with more than rush of Alpine torrent, came the frantic thought, 
"Perhaps she is already another's!"" and, turning in his saddle, 
without even a bow, or look of recognition, he passed on.» 

Ah, the anguish of that moment ! "What words can portray it? 
The hopelessness of despair crushes the human heart, and wraps 
in rayless gloom our human life; we sink — we fall — prostrate, wo 

194 KAIDS A^D R(.]«:ANCE 

iie bleeding — but, ah, can the sufferer tell you what he feels? No 
human utterances can describe the weight i)f unutterable woe that 
chains the victim down to misery worse than death itself. 

As may be imagined, our young hero knew but little of what 
transpired after this. What to him was the gay pageant, the loud 
acclaim of the joyous multitude? "What to him that men, impelled 
by admiration for all that ennobles our nature, all that elicits true 
and undying praise, were now regarding him as hero-deliverer? 
No eulogy, not the battle-trump could have aroused him from his 
deep, dull apathy. He moved amid the living throng insensate to 
its tumultuous applause. 

Au hour later, and Charley lay outstretched on the college- 
green, as one haunted by a strange, wild dream. He looked out 
on the beautiful town spread out before him ; on the clear, siiiiling 
sky above; and then away on the charming landscape, bounded by 
its margin of green woodland that encircled the town. But none 
of these things gave him pleasure, or abated for a moment his 
deep, mental suffering. 

"Come, Ch.irley, come; what are you doing here? You look 
more dead than alive, my boy. What's the matter with you? 
Get up, get up. Mary says she wants to see you, as soon as you 
can get there." 

Charley gazed with an expression of perplexed inquiry up into 
his friend's face, as if he did not fully comprehend the meaning of 
his words. 

" Wants to see me, John ? Are you not mistaken ?" Thea, 
pausing a moment, he asked, slowly, '' Is your sister married ?" 

"Married, Charley !" and John burst into a loud laugh. "Pre- 
posterous, boy ! You are certainly crazy. Here, let me feel your 
pulse and forehead. You must have brain-fever, from your api)ear- 
ance. This July sun has been too hot for you. Come, get up, 
and take a refreshing bath at that spring yonder, and prepare 
as fast as you can to accompany me to see two of the most charm- 
ing girls in the world." 

Charley looked up again into the face of his friend with an 
expression of doubt and anxious inquiry. He made no effort to 

" You are too weary to go, Charley. I will excuse you to 
Mary ; but I know she will be sorely disappointed in not seeing 

"Do you really think so, John ? Don't deceive me," said Char- 
ley, springing up as if animated by a new hfe. " I had thought 


yonr sister was engaged to be married, and would not care to see 
an old friend.'' 

'' Engaged to be married to whom ?" exclaimed the brother, in 

''To Fred Morton." 

"Fred Morton, Charley! that Lincoln sycophant. Do you 
think Mary Lawrence would thus disgrace her brother? Ah, I 
understand it all ; yes — yes," and young Lawrence shook his head 
knowingly; ''it's all plain to me now. But we won't stop to dis- 
cuss this subject, my boy. Rest assured, Mary wishes to see you — 
and I am sure she will never marry Fred Morton. Come, we have 
no time to lose. Time is fleeing, and the girls await us." 

Charley could not divest himself of the sad apprehension that, 
deepening into conviction, had so long hung like a deatli-pall over 
liis soul. And yet, with that readiness to seize upon the faintest 
promise of good, so inherent in the young heart, he suffered him- 
self to hope that liis friend's words were true, au(^ tliat Mary 
might yet be his own. 

Hastening to improve his friend's suggestions, he was soon 
transformed in appearance, and ready to set out to meet Mary at 
the residence of Mr. Johnson, whose daughters liad been her 
schoolmates and intimate associates. With trembling footsteps, 
and with conflicting emotions and thoughts filling his bosom and 
racking his brain, he ascended the steps of the front balcony, and 
stood before the door. 

What years of dread and misgiving he lived in the few moments 
that intervened between the ringing of the door-bell and the ap- 
pearance of the servant to usher them into the parlor! Char- 
ley deposited his cap on the hat-rack in the hall, and followed 
his friend to the room. There, on the divan before him, sat Mary, 
more beautiful than Peri of ancient Parsee faith. She was robed 
in a simple dress of white muslin, with a chaplet of roses and 
myrtle encircling her brow. As Charley entered tlie room, she 
sprang forward with all the love-look of old, heightened and in- 
tensified by the joy of meeting. 

The lover's doubts and fears were gone. It was the Mary of 
yore, the idol of his heart, that stood, in her purity and loveli- 
ness, before him. He could not be deceived. She was true to 
him — faithful and constant as when they two had sat together 
beneath the old elm-tree, and plighted their vows. The shadows 
suddenly lifted from his heart — his doubt and dread gone — his 
fearful apprehensions forever dead. 


His whole frame trembled with the intensity of his feelings. 
Happiness, such as the beings of a higher and brighter abode ex- 
perience, thrilled his soul, and awakened therein the most rap 
turous delight. 

How deeply he upbraided himself, as he sat beside her, and gazeS 
into that beautiful face, and felt his whole being stirred by the soft, 
sweet tones of that gentle voice, that he had ever, even for a mo- 
ment, indulged a suspicion of her truth ! He wondered at himself 
to think that he should have credited idle rumors, when he had 
received from her whom he had known from childhood vows of 
eternal faith. 

An hour later, and the lovers sat on the balcony, in the soft 
moonlight. Never were there two happier hearts. Not a shade 
intervened to cloud their joy. Mary had fully explained why it 
was she had received the attentions of Fred Mt)rton, the Federal 
captain. Tlieir mothers had been intimate friends from childhood. 
The young man was the nephew of her mother's physician, to 
whose solicitous care and tender watching she believed she ow^ed 
the possession of that inestimable boon, a mother's love. And, in 
addition to this, Mr. Morton, the father, had kindly aided her 
father at a time when, but for this opportune assistance, he would 
have failed in business and been hopelessly ruined. 
• " I never loved Fred Mroton, Charley, you know this ; but I 
have known him ever since I knew any one, and the considerations 
I have mentioned I deemed sufficiently binding upon me to compel 
me to courtesy in my demeanor towards the young gentleman. I 
know what the world said. I know my friends censured me. Your 
sister, Charley, whom I have ever loved as my sister, turns coldly 
from me. Often has my heart bled, often have I wept at being 
thus situated. But I did what I was convinced was my duty. 
But had I known — had I thought it possible that you, Charley, 
would have distrusted me for a moment, I would have hazarded 
all old family friendships, and rejected the attentions of Captain 
Morton. But I did not dream that you, Charley, could ever have 
cherished a doubt of me, — you who have known me so long and 
so well, to whom I have ever shown kindness and truth." 

The large tears that had been gathering in the liquid depths of 
those soft, blue eyes, rolled down the burning cheek and choked 
the young girl's utterance. 

" Forgive me, Mary ; forgive me that I have thus sinned against 
you," and Charley knelt before her, and clasped the soft, dimpled 
hand in his, while his broken words full well attested the strength 


of his emotions. "I have wronged you, ray angel — my life : have 
doubted you, when I should have hurled from me the vile slanders 
on your pure fidelity : have blamed y(Ju, when I should have 
loved. Forgive me, Mary — oh, forgive me my folly, and remem- 
ber not against me this horrid weakness, this irreparable guilt." 

The fast-flowing tears fell on his hand. lie had but to read the 
sweet words {»f full forgiveness in that tear-dewed face, as the 
moonlight revealed it in all its living beaut}'. 

He clasped her in his arms, and pressed his lips to her flushing 

They were reconciled, f(jrever reconciled — full atonement had 
been made, and thenceforth there should never arise one thought 
to mar their perfect love. So felt those two young hearts, as they 
sat there wrapt in the bliss of confidence restored, of forgiveness 
granted. Ah, alas! how poorly did they understand their own 
hearts — how little appreciate the influences of time and circum- 
stances ! They forgot, while plucking the fair and blooming flowers 
of Eden, that "the trail of the serpent is over it all." 

For several moments both were silent. Each bosom was too 
filled with bliss to find language. 

'" But you did not tell me, Mary, how you chanced to be here in 
this little country town," said Charley, breaking the stillness. 

•' Why, in this wise, Charley," she replied, something of her 
wonted vivacity' speaking out in look and gesture. ''Convinced 
by father's arguments that it would be wholly impossible for 
Colonel Morgan to reach Louisville, I importuned mother to per- 
mit me to come to Frankfort, under the protection of my cousin. 
She consented, \yhen we reached Frankfort, we were persuaded, 
from the information we received there from Southern men, that 
you would certainly pass through this place, and cousin Frank took 
a carriage and brought me here." 

''And where is he to-night, Mary?" 

"Oh, you know he has a sweetheart out in the country about 
three miles from town. Notwitiistanding we were hourly expect- 
ing you, he could not resist the magnet, and he is now with Miss 
Appleton, I look for him back every moment." 

"I thank God that we have met once more, Mary. Oh, you 
cann(it tell what unutterable anguish I have endured under the 
belief that another had won from me that love which I hold as 
above life itself. I have told you of Mary Brent's letter to her 
brother. This was the first intimation I received of the attentions 
of Captain Morton, and the consequent rumor that you were to 


marry him. It came with such assurance of its trntli, thnt T could 
not — pardon me, Mary, I did you a great wrong, I know — could 
not doubt it. Love is jealous, you know, Mary, and the thouirht 
of another, a hated rival, coming in between me and the being of 
all others to me most dear, drove me to distraction. I sank as 
one suddenly overtaken by a fearful disease. Life lost all charms to 
me. I wandered as one demented, pursued by an evil spirit. The 
prospect of return to Kentucky gave me no joy, no hope. It was 
like saying to the criminal, — Come, walk and take the fresh air, 
we will go by the gallows whereon you must be executed on tiie 
rnorrow. I came, because it was unavoidable. When I reached 
Lebanon, Ben Spalding, all unconscious that he was thrusting 
]!oisoned barbs into my very soul, repeated to me the rumor, as- 
serting on his own knowledge its trutlifulness. I rose, dressed 
myself, and fled the house, unable to rest a moment longer beneath 
a roof where I had endured such agony of mind. And when, three 
hours ago, I saw you standing on this balcony, and heard you cill 
my name, I looked coldly, distractedly upon you, and said to my- 
self, *' What is she to me? Even while I behold her, another may 
call her his own," and I resolved to die. I felt that I could not 
bear the insupportable burden of an existence that had been for- 
ever robbed of its light and joy. But, thank God, I now know that 
you are mine; that no image of another has ever, even for a mo- 
ment, enshrined itself in the temple of your affections. And now, 
Mary, I again beseech you to forgive and forget this deep, un- 
founded wrong done you by my black, my infamous suspicions, 
God forgive me, Mary — I feel that I have sinned against heaven 
in thus sinning against you!" 

" Forgive you, Charley ? My heart tells me tliat I should rather 
plead with you for forgiveness. I now see, that, while doing wMiat 
I believed to be a right, I did, all unnecessarily it is true, but, 
nevertheless, did surely lay the foundation of all your unliappi- 
ness; I have learned a lesson, sad and deep, which no coming 
time shall ever wear out from my heart." 

She paused, and looked up into Charley's face with an expression 
so pleading, so full of tenderness and truth, that — soldier as he was, 
all unused to tears — he could not restrain the big, burning drops 
that gushed to his eyes and rolled down his manly cheeks. He 
])res.»ed her more closely to him. He was about to speak, when a 
footfall on the steps attracted their attention. It was Frank Car- 
ter, Mary's cousin, just returned from the country. 

"And Morgan has come, cousin I" he exclaimed, as soon as he 


canglit a glimpse of M:iry. " Wliere is John ? I am almost crazy 
to see him. I understood he was here." 

Charley stepped forward. Young Carter recognized him in 

'' Wh}', Charley, my friend, is this you? How do you do? I 
am so glad to see you !" and he stood shaking the young soldier hy 
both hands, looking him intently in the eye, his face beaming with 
the happiness the meeting with his old friend gave him. '* And 
where is John, Charley? Isn't he with y(jn ?" 

'" He acc()mj)anied Miss May to the ice-cream saloon a short time 
since, but will be back in a few minutes, I suppose." 

The three passed into the parlor. In a few minutes. Miss Jenny 
May and young Lawrence returned. 

Carter sprang from his seat, and clasped his cousin in his arms. 
They had been playmates in childhood, and the love of brothers 
characterized their whole life. 

"O. John, I am so glad to see you once more safely back in old 
Kentucky ! In the name of all the true hearts in our once proud, 
but now degraded State, I welcome you. May you be one of the . 
noble braves to drive the hordes of abolition invaders from her 

''Join us, Frank; we need strong, young arms and nerved 
souls, to aid us in our work." 

*•' Have you a gun for me. John ?" 

'•Yes; can give you a complete outfit. Will you accept it, and 
cast your lot with us V 

"With right good-will, John. I set out from home with that 
expectation, I have long desired a fitting opportunity to join you, 
and I am now ready. 1 go with you to-night." 

" And what will become of me, Frank? You know mother in- 
trusted me to you." 

" Oh, you will be taken care of. I shall assuredly provide for 

"Patriotism first, gallantry afterwards — first our country, then 
our sweethearts. This should be the motto now, Mary; uou't 
you think so, gentlemen?" asked Miss May. 

'•Our countrj' and our sweethearts, first and forever, Miss May, 
is the watchword of Kentucky soldiers. We fight for both, for 
both we die, but never yield either to the foe." 

The evening was spent most delightfully in song, music,and cheer- 
ful conversation. Southern songs were sung without restraint. 
,No blue-coated spy paced the streets to search out '• treason.^'* 


Cliarley and Mary again found tlie balcony. Love seeks no 
jiociety save its own. Time sped by with nimble feet. Charley 
lingered. To-morrow he might be torn away for the rapid march 
or bloody skirmish. Sweet were the words of love interchanged 
by these two young, trusting hearts. How brightly, wreathed 
with the halo of hopeful promise and joy, did the future outspread 
before them! Love is a kaleidoscope which, however many new 
and rare combinations are presented, none are devoid of beautiful 
colors or symmetrical forms. 

'' Time for us to leave, isn't it, Charley ?" said young Lawrence, 
appearing on the balcony, accompanied by his cousin, Mr. Carter. 
" Can you guess the hour, my friend ?" 

*' Ten o'clock, I suppose,'' replied Charley, taking out his watch 
f(>r the first time during the evening. 

" Ten, o'clock, Charley !" cried Lawrence, laughing heartil}', 
'•Time must have passed pleasantly with you, truly. Wouldn't 
you think so. Miss Jenny and Frank? Charley says ten, my watch 
Fays five minutes to twelve. Charley has taken no note of time, 
the watch has measured every minute, so I suppose we shall have 
to take the testimony of the latter, and bid you ladies good-night.'' 

" We soldiers don't often have the pleasure of ladies' society,'' 
responded Charley to his friend's badinage. ''This must plead 
our apology for the present trespass. When we call again, we hope 
to be more thoughtful of your comfort and the prescribed forms 
of etiquette. Good-night, ladies," and, bowing politely, he de- 
scended the steps. 

His two friends, after promising to return on the morrow, " (/" 
circumstances would permit^'''' bade the young ladies good-night, 
a!;d followed his example. 

Descending the steps, and turning the corner of the street, they 
were soon lost to sight. 




It hail been concerted by Curd, Irving, Castlernan, and young 
Moriran, to visit Lexington in disguise, if they could obtain leave 
of absence until the following evening. This done, tiie four 
dressed themselves up in a full suit 6t' Lincoln blue, and about nine 
o'clock they set out on their perilous undertaking. They knew 
every mile of the way, having often travelled it, and they were 
also fully acquainted with the sentiments of every individual on 
the road-side, so that they had nothing to apprehend on the score 
of falling into Union hands. Their only danger on the way was 
the Federal pickets, which mast, ^^ar necessite, be either evaded of 
deceived. But they also ran the further risk of being recognized 
by every individual whom they might meet in the city, and thereby 
be betrayed into Federal hands. 

But these young men were fond of adventure, and they cared 
not a whit how narrow the escape was, so they escaped. Indeed, 
the very danger they must be subject to throughout, only served 
to add zest to the scheme. 

The four, mounted on fleet horses and completely disguised, set 
out amid the shouts and cheers of their comrades, on their rather 
dubious expedition. Many were the wagers laid by the boys that 
they would be nabbed by the Yankees, and sent to the military 
prison at Louisville ; but the young adventurers, confident of suc- 
cess, in every instance doubled the sum that they would return the 
following night, with all the items of news known in the besieged 
city of Lexington. 

" Present our regards to our friends in the city," shouted a 
dozen voices, as, laying whip to their horses, the merry quartette 
dashed off on their excursion. They rode at a rapid pace for five 
or six miles, heeding neither toll-gate nor the groups of two and 
three Federal soldiers which they passed on their way. 

When within five miles of Lexington, they halted to discuss and 
decide npon the best plan to be pursued. Morgan and Curd were 
in favor of attempting to pass the pickets on horseback. Irving 


and CastleiTian thought it be^t to uisinount, leave their horses at 
the house of a friend, and, avoiding the pickets, enter the ciry by 
a by-path. 

" We can deceive them, Irving, rest assured we can," argued 
Morgan. "• They'll never suspect us. I'll give the Yankee twang 
so completely, they'll swear I am a regular Down-Easter, and no 

" But, Cal., is it not better to avoid them altogether? Then we 
shall certainly be safe." 

" But how can this be done, and where shall we leave our 
horses, Irving ? I would as soon the wretches would get me as 
my horse." 

" Ah, I can manage that, Cal. There is an old friend of mine, 
jnst across the way here, that will take good care of theru until we 
come back. Once in his hands, and I'll wager my head the Feds 
will never get them." 

" But how shall we avoid the pickets ? They are as thick about 
the city as leaves in Vallambrosa, no doubt." 
. " But certainly we can shun them better as pedestrians than we 
could on horseback." 

'' But in the latter case, if we could neither deceive nor shun 
them, we could eifect an escape; while if on foot, they might shoot 
us and we could make no effort to get away." 

" I will take the chances on foot, Cal. I am convinced it is the 
safer plan." 

" And I will trust to my ingenuity, blarney, and this good steed 
of mine to secure me a safe passage through, or a safe exit from 
the rascals." 

After a lengthy discussion on the subject it was finally agreed, 
as a test of the judgment of the respective parties, that Morgan 
and Curd should attempt the trip on horseback, while Irving and 
Castleman would essay it on foot. It was arranged tliat they 
should meet the next day, at two o'clock, to dine at Mrs. Morgan's, 
mother of the colonel, provided they succeeded in the attempt. 

Irving and Castleman turned through a gate to the right, to seek 
the house of the friend with whom the horses were to be left. 
Morgan and Curd, bidding them good-night, pursued their way 
along the pike. They rode on abi-ut a mile, planning their passage 
through the lines, when suddenly they came upon the pickets, 
v^even or eight strong. Morgan rode forward. 

"Halt!" called out a Hoosier, thrusting his bayonet across the 
road. •' Halt ! I tell you, or Fll blow out your brains in a minute !" 


*'Two of the 51st Ohio," answered Morgan, with the veritable 
Yankee drawl, " trying to escape from Morgan's men. Got caught 
out liere, and came within an ace of being made prisoners. Had 
a hard time to get ofi*. I tell you, these rebels are regular dare- 
devils. Bully fellows, they." 

*' Where's your pass? Let me see that." 

''Pass, my friend? How do you suppose we could get a pass, 
when there was nobody to give us one? Our pass to-night were 
these two good steeds." 

Just at this juncture, four or live others, that had been sitting 
by the road-side, about half asleep, came up and joined the IIoo- 
sier, who explained the matter to them, and asked their advice. 

'' Our orders are to let no one pass in or out," spoke a red-hair- 
ed man, whom Morgan immediately recognized as Bill Green, of 
the Lexington Home Guard. " And we can't disobey orders, if 
Morgan's men do catch you," added another voice, perfectly fami- 
liar to his ear. He looked over the group. There were four there 
that knew him well — the least circumstance might betray him. 

What should he do? To attempt to deceive them was risking 
every thing. They might recognize him at any moment. And 
how gladly would they seize upon him. What a prize ! " Gal. 
Morgan, the brother of John Morgan!" All the papers in the 
hind would be filled with the glad intelligence. 

They debated but a moment. Giving Curd the signal, he wheel- 
ed his horse, and started off at full speed. 

"Rebels! rebels!" and a half dozen bullets shredded the air 
around their head. One passed through young Curd's Lincoln 
cap. One glanced by Morgan's right foot, but no damage was 
received by either, as they dashed on as rapidly as their horses 
could bear them, pursued by four of the picket-guard, who, mount- 
ing their steeds, set out to catch the rebels. 

The horses of the pursuers were fresh, and they were fast gain- 
ing on the two fugitives. 

"Fire, Curd," said Morgan. '• Maybe we can kill one of them 
This will put an end to the chase." 

Curd obeyed the bidding, and fired. The shot was harmless. 
It was immediately replied to. 

Morgan turned himself in his saddle, and aimed at the man 
nearest him. 

"Oh, God! I am shot — I'm killed!" cried out the Yankee. 
His companions halted. 

Morgan and Curd took advantage of the confusion, and spurring 


their horses forward to their fullest soppfl, dashed over the hill and 
out of sighr. Nor did they stop uutii they were assured they were 
beyond the guns of their enemies. 

There was high merriment in camp as they told over the story 
f»f their escape, and many a juke was perpetrated at their expense. 

It was one o'clock the following day. A young female, closely 
veiled, rang the door-bell of Mrs. Morgan's residence. A servant 
quickly appeared. 

*' Hand your mistress this card." 

In a few minutes Mrs. Morgan entered the parlor. 

" Is your son at home, Mrs. Morgan ?" asked the girl in a whis- 
per, as the two seated themselves on the t^ofa. 

" Which one, Belle? What do you mean ?" asked the old lady 
in a voice of surprise. 

*' Cal,, Mrs. Morgan." 

"No, my dear. You surprise me by your question. What do 
you mean ? You did not expect to tind him here, did you ?" ask- 
ed the old lady, trembling from head to foot. 

'' Get your bonnet, Mrs. Morgan, and go with me. My brother 
and young Irving are at my mother's, and want to see you, Ba 
quiet ; I'll tell you when we reach the carriage. Let me call 
the servant," added the young girl, as she saw the nervous state 
of Mrs. M., who, unable to control herself, stood leaning on the 
table. The young girl placed the bonnet and shawl on the trem- 
bling mother, and led her to the carriage, ordering the driver to 
take the most private way home. The young girl turned to Mrs. 
Morgan, and said, " My brother and Mr. Irving reached home this 
morning ab^ut three o'clock. They avoided the pickets, and got 
in without difSculty. Your son and — " 

" Which son, Belle?" gasped the agitated mother, seizing her 
arm. '' God grant John has not fallen into their bloody hands !" 

" No, no, Mrs. Morgan ; it was not Colonel Morgan, but your 
younger son, CaL It was agreed that he and Jack Curd should 
attempt to pass the Federal pickets in the dress of Lincoln sol- 
diers. They were on horseback. My brother and Mr. Irving set 
out on foot, and succeeded in getting safely through, and are now 
at my mother's. They were all to dine with you to-day ; this was 
the agreement when they parted. But brother thinks our house 
is watched, and he and Mr. Irving are afraid to leave. They sent 
me to see if your son and young Curd were with you, and if they 
were not, I was instructed to bring you home with me," 

•' Oh, my child, my poor son! I am afraid the Yankees have 


got him. IK,\v shamefully they will use him. merely because he 
is a Morgan ! My cup of grief is full— it overtiow.s. Surelv, I am 
stricken— afflicted. Hut I must not falter. These are no times for 
fear and irresolution. My children fight for a just cause; I must 
trust them in the hands of God. Have you seen the morning 
paper, my child ? If they are captured, that, no doubt, contains 
the intelligence." 

" I have not, Mrs. Morgan. We do not take the Observer ; but 
there is a boy with some papers. I will call him, and get one." 

The carriage was stopped; the boy called; the pai)er pur- 

Eagerly the young girl looked over its columns, while Mrs. 
M^organ sat in breathless suspense at her side. 

'•They were not caught, Mrs. Morgan. Here, listen bow nar- 
rowly they escaped. I know this must be the account of it," and 
the young girl read the description of the scene as it had occurred 
the night before. " They were dressed in Federal uniform, Mrs. 
Morgan. I know they were so; there can be no mistake about 
it. My brother and Mr. Irving are thus attired, and they told us 
your son and young Curd used the same means to avoid detection." 
"Thank God I my child is safe. I should be very glad to see 
him, but I would not have him risk his life to come to me. I have 
been trying all the morning to get a pass out of the city, but they 
would not grant me one. I feel I would risk every thing to see 
ray children ; but, with their brutal cruelty, they deny me this 
poor request, just because they know it almost breaks my heart." 
The ladies alighted at Mrs. Castleman's door. Mrs. Morgan 
was shown up stairs into a private room, where she was welcomed 
by the two soldiers, who sat enjoying themselves in the midst of 
friends of both sexes, and of all ages. 

The heroes soon related to Mrs. Morgan's anxious mind the 
whole story, and assured her that the statement in tlie morning 
paper must be correct, as the description of the two men accorded 
precisely with the appearance of her son and his friend. 

Most happily the evening passed to these two men, prisoners as 
they wore in the home of their birth; their rights as freemen 
trampled into the earth by a horde of Abolitionists, who had no 
more right on Kentucky soil than Caffres or Bushmen. 

Friend after friend called in, until the large room was filled with 
the yon ng, the old, tlie gay, the sober, all anxious to see old ac- 
quaintances who now enjoyed the high reputation of being Mor- 
gan's men. 


Having seen their sweethearts and friends, and obtained all the 
infoirmation they could, the two set out to retrace their steps, and 
heroes they were dubbed, as at one o'clock that night they entered 
their camp at Georgetown, without a scratch or any such memenio 
of an affray with the Yankees. 

Ah, what lasting memories gather around that midnight ex- 
cursion ! 




Colonel Morgan took possession of Georgetown on Tuesday- 
evening, July 16th. The same evening, he issued the following 
proclamation to the people of Kentucky : 

'•Kentuekians! I come to liberate you from the despotism of 
tyrannical fanaticism, and to rescue my native State from the hands 
of your oppressors. Everywhere the cowardly foes have fled from 
my avenging arms. My brave army is stigmatized as a band of 
guerillas and marauders. Believe it not. I point with pride to 
their deeds as a refutation of this foul assertion. 

'' We come not to molest peaceable individuals, nor to destroy 
private property, but guarantee absolute protection to all who are 
not in arms against us. We ask only to meet the hireling legions 
of Lincoln. The eyes of your brotliers of the South are upon you. 
Your gallant fellow-citizens are flocking to our standard. Our 
armies are rapidly advancing to your protection. Tiien greet them 
with the willing hands of fifty thousand of Kentucky's bravest 
t^ons. Their advance is already with you. Then, 

' Strike for the green graves of your sires ! 
Strike for your altars and your fires ! 
God, and your native land !' " 

The citizens believed his words, and reinforcements assembled 
around his standard from Franklin, Scott, Trimble, Owen, and 
Bourbon counties. Brave hearts and strong arms rallied to swell 
the number of Kentucky's deliverers. 

On entering the town. Colonel Morgan immediately took pos- 
session of the press and telegraph office. 

The operator, a deep-dyed* Lincolnite, declared, on a demand 
being made for his apparatus, that it had all been packed up and 
sent to Cincinnati as soon as it was known the Confederates were 
inarching on the place. Colonel Morgan scanned the poor af- 
frighted felon from head to foot. He was a pretty good judge of 
men and circumstances, and feeling assured that the cixature was 
trying to deceive him, he in a very calm, decided tone, told him 


he could make his choice of two things : either produce the battery, 
etc., or take a trip with him South, to share the privileges of a 
Dixie prison. 

The man looked blank with astonishment. This fearful alter- 
native was wholly unexpected. His heart drew back in dread be- 
fore the horrid picture his excited fancy drew of the miseries of a 
Castle Thunder. He hesitated — looked confused — paled and red- 
dened by turns. How could he convict himself of falsehood ? He 
cast a furtive glance on the colonel, as he stood there calmly 
awaiting his decision. He saw the demand was imperative. 
Moving slowly towards the bed, he stooped down, and, with the 
look of a criminal, drew from its hiding-place all the missing ap- 
paratus. Colonel Morgan received it gracefully, at the same time 
ordering two of his men to take in charge the poor, trembhng 
operator until further directions. 

Situated as Morgan was, in such close proximity to the enemy 
now assembled in force at Frankfort, seventeen miles in his rear, 
and at Lexington, only twelve to his right, and also rapidly 
congregating at Paris in front of him, it became necessary to act 
with the greatest dispatch and caution. 

A company of men, under Captain McMillan, was immediately 
sent out to effectually destroy the railroad between Midway and 
Lexington, and Midway and Frankfort, tliereby preventing rein- 
forcements from being sent to Lexington. 

The boys performed this task with alacrity and success. They 
tore up the track, blew up the stone bridge, rendering the road 
whohy useless to the enemy, and returned in triumph to George- 

Scouts were also sent forward towards Paris, to ascertain the 
number and position of the troops at that point. 

The day following Morgan's entrance into Georgetown, as he 
■was sitting in his office with Colonel St, Leger, Major Duke, and 
others, among whom were many of the tirst citizens of the place, 
an old man, of venerable appearance, was conducted in by two of 
his men, who informed the colonel that the visitor had intelligence 
of importance to communicate. 

The colonel rose, and received the old gentleman with a polite 
bow and pleasant smile, at the same time requesting him to be 
seated, which the visitor did with an air of simple modesty. CoF- 
onel Morgan scanned him closely from head to foot. He was a 
plain, unassuming farmer, dressed in homespun, and wearing a low- 
crowned beaver hat, which he now held in his hand. His conn- 


tenance was open, and expressive of ingenuousness and truth. Col- 
onel Morgan was satisfied with the scrutiny. It was impossible 
for such a man to be guilty of a desire to deceive. 

Excusing himself to his friends, and leading the visitor into a 
small ante-room, Colonel Morgan questioned him respecting the 
int^ligence he bore. 

"1 come, coiontl.*' replied the old man, in a mild, respectful 
tone, which at once bespoke iiim a gentleman, '• to inform you with 
regard to a Federal force at Scamping Ground, about twelve miles 
from here, whicli I think, sir, you can easily capture, with all their 

Convinced that the old man's story was reliable. Colonel Morgan 
asked : " How many Yankees do you think there are in the force 
of which you speak ?" 

'' Only about seventy -five, sir. I myself have counted them twice, 
and both times I made that number." 

" Are they well armed, sir?" 

"Very well, colonel. First-rate guns, and every equipment 

" What have they besides their guns?" 

"Tents, wagons, and stores of every kind, which have been sent 
up recently from Fi-ankfort. x\nd, in addition to these, they have 
some boxes of guns which have not yet been opened." 

"Can they fight pretty well, and have t!iey a brave captain?" 

'• Can't answer for tlie men, colonel ; but their captain is as 
brave a man as ever lived." 

"Are they looking for my men, and have they made any prepa- 
ration to receive them; and if so, of what nature, and where?" 

" When I left there, late yesterday evening, they were all in 
confnsion, every moment looking for you to come down upon them. 
I judge, colonel, they are looking for you yet. They had no de- 
fence then, and I should think, from the scare they were in, that 
they have found no time for preparation of any kind ; your scouts 
could readily ascertain this, colonel. Any man there would tell 

Colonel Morgan thanked the old gentleman kindly, and desired 
him to dine with him at the hotel. But the old farmer declined. 
"All he desired was, to be permitted to shake hands with the men, 
and bid them God-speed in their glorious cause." 

A guide was appointed to show the old man to the camp and 
introdoce him to the boys. 

" Call Captain Hamilton," said Colonel Morgan, to one of his aids. 


''Captain," said the colonel, as the young officer stood before 
him, "take with you one hundred men and proceed to Stumping 
Ground, break up the Federal encampment there, and capture all 
their store?, and report to me at this point." 

The dashing captain set out with his men about noon. The 
road was fine, and, after a ride of an hour and a half, they came 
upon the Federal pickets, who fled at their approach, giving to the 
encampment the fearful intelligence that Morgan's whole force was 
marching into the village. 

In vain their captain endeavored to rally them for a fight. He 
told them they could drive back tlirice their number. But his ar- 
guments could not convince the frightened men that they possess- 
ed this wonderful amount of courage. They seized their guns, but, 
further than this, they manifested no disposition to fight. They 
stood, fearful and irresolute. He assured them the enemy num- 
bered but about fifty men — that the pickets were scared, and did 
not remain to see how many there were ; plead with them to pro- 
tect their homes and families — to show themselves worthy sup- 
porters of the glorious old flag which their forefathers had so no- 
bly defended. 

After much persuasion, he induced thefii to follow him a few 
hundred yards from their encampment, where he formed them in 
line of battle. By this time the enemy could be distinctly heard, 
rapidly descending the hill into the village. The clattering of their 
horses' hoofs was fearful to the affrighted ears of the trembling men. 

A young man of the place rushed up and cried out that Morgan, 
at the head of at least five hundred men, was dashing on to attack 
thera. It was enough. The forces broke and ran, scattering in 
every direction. Each one sought safety where he thought it 
could best be secured. 

Some did not stop until they found themselves lost amid the 
high hills that bound the village on the north. Others secreted 
themselves in barns and houses, while others, finding escape im- 
possible, surrendered themselves and received their parole. Cap- 
tain Hamilton ordered his men to set fire to the tents, and destroy the 
guns and stores. They then returned to the village, and, amid the 
wonder of the gaping crowd, took possession of the medical and com- 
missary supplies, which soon shared the fate of the tents and guns. 

The victors remained awhile to rest and enjoy the hospitality of 
the friends who, as soon as they were relieved of the presence of 
the Lincolnites, hastened to surround them and congratulate them 
on their bloodless victory. 


Recruits, to tlie nnniber of seven or eight, joined them here, and 
were provided with guns taken from the Vanquished Lincolnites. 

A detachment was sent under Captain Castleman, brother to the 
one who had so successfully entered Lexington, to destroy the rail- 
road bridges between Paris and Lexington, 

Success liaving crowned all of Colonel Morgan's plans, the boys 
felt themselves safe in their present happy position, and gave them- 
selves up to enjoyment. •They dashed out into the country, visited 
tlie farm-houses, where they were kindly received and treated to 
Kentucky's best cheer; called to see the ladies; partook daily of 
the nicest provisions, which were sent in the greatest profusion 
into the camp ; laughed, danced, and sung. 

Colonel Morgan was waited upon by many of the best citizens 
of the place, who dared thus to speak out their sentiments, despite 
the dark scowls and bitter threats of the Union neighbors. 

Tliere was a physician in town, uncle to Majf)r Gano, of tlie 
Texas squadron. This gentleman had been a rabid Unionist from 
the beginning of the troubles, and was one of the first men in that 
community to advocate the formation and arming of a Home Guard 
company. In consideration of his active services in obtaining arms 
and enlistments, he had been selected as captain of the body, but 
with his men he had ingloriously fled to Lexington, having first 
sent his family to the country. His residence was in the suburbs 
of the town, and fronted by a most beautiful lawn. Into this 
Major Gant) marched his command and encamped. 

The Texas boys soon learned they were on the premises of one 
of their bitterest foes, and, fired at the thought, they vowed to 
destroy every thing before them. 

"Why should they protect the property of a man who was then 
under arms to kill them?" they argued, nnd with that spirit of 
"evil for evil" "which inhabits the human breast, they set out to 
begin their work of destruction. 

The major, hearing of their intention, forbade any man's touch- 
ing any thing on the premises, and placed a guard around the house. 
And, a few days after, when the possessor returned, he found 
every tldng in statu quo^ except some forage, which the men had 
been permitted to appropriate for their horses. 

The premises of other Union men were everywhere guarded 
with the same fidelity. And instead of the ravage and ruin which 
always characterize the progress t)f the Abolition hordes, they left 
behind them undisturbed homes and thankful, happy hearts. 




It was the evening of the second day of Morgan's occupation of 
Georgetown. Orders had been given that on the following morn- 
ing the whole command must be ready to advance at an early 
hour. Busy preparations for a move were everywhere made 
throughout the ranks, for the men well knew what Colonel Mor- 
gan meant by an early hour. 

The dreamy twilight was gliding noiselessly over the earth. 
The sun declining behind the western horizon, had left in his golden 
way a flood of light, which fell in mellow radiance over the soft 
summer's landscape. The stars, one by one, stole out from behind 
their blue hidings above, and looked quietly down upon the green 
earth. The moon sent out her silvery beams to add to the heavenly 
beauty of the scene. The meek-eyed flowers lifted lovingly their 
tiny heads to catch the kiss of the cooling zephyr as it sported on 
airy wing across the tufted lawn and waving meadows. 

"With mingled emotions of joy and sorrow, Charley wended his 
way over the slope that intervened between the encampment and 
the town. Old memories rushed through his mind. The past, the 
present, the future, each crowded upon his thoughts with their 
promises, their sadness, until, bewildered, he could only feel — not 

To-night he should see Mary — perhaps for the last time. Should 
they meet ngain, it must be after years had run their weary round. 
Perhaps — and he shuddered at the thought — perhaps the Angel of 
Death might come and intervene his dark wing — and they should 
never again meet until they should together stand before the Great 
"White Throne above. 

He was passing through the beautiful lawn w^hich bounds that 
famous stream, the "Big Spring of Georgetown," when he heard 
a ringing laugh, which was all too familiar to be mistaken. Seek- 
ing the point from whence it issued, he found Mary, Jenny, and 
John reposing on the grassy mound, which rises like a throne 


above the irnriclitic spring, the mossy haunt of tlie guardian naiad 
of these crystal waters. 

Charley approached tliem, and seating himself on the green car- 
pet beside the group, joined in the merry conversation, which was 
chiefly supported l)y Jenny and John. There was a want of inter- 
est in his words, and his air was that of one whose thouglits were 
far removed. 

Mary was silent and embarrassed. She, too, had essayed to 
join in the merry chat, but her words were without intere^^t, her 
sentences left uiifinislied. Her eyes, sought the ground, or looked 
listlessly out into vacuity ; while the varying shades that passed 
over her now thoughtful and saddened face told the changeful 
feelings that thronged- her bosom. Iler soul was burdened with a 
fearful sorrow. Afar off in the future she saw the shadow which 
now fell so ominously about her, deepening and deepening, until 
it became impenetrable gloom. 

Slie had parted once before with Charley, but then she felt no 
fear. All was bright and hopeful, and adown the opening vista 
she looked and beheld everywhere sunlight and joy. Why the 
change — this sad, this fearful change ? She could not tell. 
There was no cause in the present for this dark foreboding. Why 
should she borrow sombre clouds from the future? She asked 
herself the question, and her heart answered, " Coming events cast 
their shadows before." But she would be cheerful ; for Charley's 
sake she would cast away her despondency and be herself again. 
She made the #ndeavor, and for a few minutes succeeded in 
assuming her wonted gayety. But it was a desperate effort, and 
could not last. 

Charley observed the marked change in her manner, and it 
served to increase the sadness which was brooding so heavily over 
his own heart. He looked on that sweet face, usually so radiant 
with smiles, and its thoughtful, pensive cast, rendering it tenfold 
more beautiful, was as a barbed arrow to his soul. 

And those large, lustrous eyes, ever the home of gladness, now, 
despite herself, suffused with tears, spoke to his tremblmg, loving 
heart in tones of resistless eloquence the deep feeling that she was 
struggling to suppress. 

Charley led her slightly apart from the others, and seated her 
beneath the wide-spread boughs of an old oak-tree that crowned 
the summit of the gently rising slope. The moon stole through 
the overhanging arches, and fell in silvery shimmer on the 
smoothly shorn grass at their feet. 


For several nionients the two remained silent. Charley felt his 
heart bursting to tell her all he felt — all he hoped — all he feared — 
but he knew not where to begin. 

"Mary," he said, at length, "I go away from you to-m«»rr<>w. 
This is the last time I shall see you for months — perhaps for years 
— indeed, Mary, we may never meet again. You know the chances 
of war are uncertain ;" and he paused, unable to proceed. Sup- 
pressing his feelings, he resumed: "We may never meet again on 
earth, Mary ; but let me pledge you once more, here beneath these 
bending heavens, whose myriad beings witness the vow, that in 
death as in life my love shall be yours. I need not tell you of that 
love, Mary ; you know its depths — its constancy. But I felt, as I 
sat beside you on that mossy slope, that it was perhaps asking of 
you too great a sacrifice to remain pledged to me, when there 
seems to be so little promise of any consummation of our hai)pi- 
ness. And here, Mary, I would say — though it is like driving the 
cold steel through my own bosom — that if you prefer, I will re- 
lease you from an engagement which, under the present circum- 
stances, may prove unpleasant to you. 

She turned upon him those large soft eyes, now filled with 
tears, and her voice was low and tremulous. " Charley, do you 
doubt me ? Else why this proposal ?" The tears gushed from 
her eyes, and streamed over her sad face. 

'^ "Doubt you, Mary; doult you! No! no!" he replied, with 
deep earnestness ; and he threw his arm around her, and drew her 
to his bosom. "Doubt you I never, never, Mary U Sooner would 
I doubt the words of Holy Writ than the love which, amid change 
and time, has shown itself unchanging — steadfast as the founda- 
tions of the earth. I know your love is as true as the heavens 
themselves. But, Mary, you are young, beautiful, admired, court- 
ed, and is it not wrong — ask your own heart, is it not unjust to 
yourself — to bind yourself to one who has not now the remotest 
prospect of rendering you happy?" 

"If you do not doubt me, Charley, and will promise to love me 
always, I ask no more;" and she looked up into his face with 
such a sweet trusting smile, that Charley felt it to live the bliss of 
years in those few fleeting moments. 

"It is enough, Mary!" he exclaimed, while his tears fell thick 
and fast, "I ask no more. I shall go feeling in the depths of my 
soul that, come what may, you will prove constant and true. 
And I pledge yt)U here, before the Great Jehovah, whose eye 
looks now upon us, and the shining angels around His throne, that 


never, never, whil^ life lasts, shall your image pjiss from its sacred 
temple in my heart." 

lie drew forth a locket, and threw the cluiin about her neck. 
"Look at that, Mary, when I am gone, and remember always that 
I love you." lie pressed her to his bosom, and kissed her long 
and fervently. 

** I go now, Mary. To remain, is but to torture both your heart 
and mine. God bless you— God blessyou !" He kissed her once 
more, and leading her back to her brother and friends, bade them 
farewell, and hastened away. 




On the velvet grass, beside tlie Big Spring at Georgetown, lay 
the manly form of Colonel Morgan, stretched out at full length, 
reading the Cincinnati and Louisville papers of the previous day. 

"The trap has been laid," said the Louisville e7<??/rnaZ, *'and the 
horse-thief Morgan has fallen into it. He is now at Georgetown, 
with Frankfort on one side of him, Paris and Cynthiana on the 
other — with Lexington in his front — each point with as many men 
as he has in his whole command. There is no way of escape for 
him, unless he decides to betake himself to the Ohio river, where 
he will find ample opportunity to cool the ardor of his patriotism. 
Caught at last, let every loyal heart rejoice that this traitor, thief, 
and coward, is soon to meet his just doom." 

" We may expect to see the reckless guerilla chief, John Morgan, 
soon a prisoner in our city," said the Cincinnati Gazette. " Escape 
is now impossible. He is surrounded on all sides, and there is no 
outlet from the mesh which environs him, save through our city 
to Fort Warren." 

"Caught at last," wrote the editor of the Commercial. "• John 
Morgan, the noted bandit and horse-thief, is at length entrapped. 
Reliable information locates him and his dirty followers at George- 
town, completely surrounded by our troops, who, under their gal- 
lant leaders, will soon make an easy prey of their victim. He is 
now just in the situation we have long desired to place him, and 
the next intelligence we look for will be the announcement that 
the whole gang is bagged." 

" Ha ! ha ! ha !" broke out the colonel. Dashing the papers from 
him, he sprang to his feet and approached the murmuring spring. 

" What's that, colonel, that pleases you so?" asked his adjutant. 

"Nothing, x^lston, except that we are now completely entrapped 
by the Yankees ; surrounded on all sides ; no way of escape. Here, 
read for yourself. Great and mighty prophets, these Northern 
editors. But we'll see," and the colonel stooped and drank a re- 
freshing draught from the cool, crystal waters of the old spring 


'* Gastleinaii hn^ left?" &:tid the colonel, looking round from his 
stooping position to the adjutant, who stood reading the papers, 
highly anuised at the startling announcements. 

*'T\vo or three hours since, colonel. They have already reach- 
ed the railroad, and successfully accomplished their business, I 
hope, and are now iiienueiiig Lexington from the Winchester pike." 

''We must leave here at an early hoi^ to-iyorro\v morning, be- 
fore sun-up. Let every thing be ready, Alston. Harrison, with a 
company of seventy-five men, must menace Lexington from the 
Georgetown pike, as soon as the day dawns. If necessary, we 
must drive their pickets into tfie very town." 

The adjutant bowed, and left to carry out the orders. Colonel 
Morgan threw himself on the green sward to perfect his plans. 

The evening was very warm. The thermometer stood at ninety, 
but the thick foliage of the grand old oak, beneath which the col- 
onel reposed, shut out the sun's scorching rays. The breezes 
danced among the leaves overheard — the clear, limpid waters gur- 
gled at his feet. 

'' Dotards !" exclaimed Morgan to himself, laughing. " Do they 
think I would allow myself to be hemmed in and taken by them ? 
Old Prentice will have another tale to tell his gullible readers be- 
fore the setting of to-morrow's sun." 

Colonel Morgan took a calm survey of the position of affairs. 
All Indiana, Ohio, and Kentucky were aroused, and from every 
available point, troops had been forwarded for the purpose of sur- 
rounding him and '* bagging his whole force." 

Heavy reinforcements had been sent from Cincinnati to Cynthi- 
ana, and from thence to Paris. A large force was assembled at 
Lexington, at Frankfort, and at Louisville. But, as the road was 
destroyed between Lexington and Frankfort, no reinforcements 
could be furnished the former city by the latter. Lexington, if 
threatened, must depend for succor on Paris. This would relieve 
this point, and also greatly weaken Cynthiana. 

Castleman, on the morrow, would advance upon Lexington from 
the direction of Winchester. Harrison, with his men, would, at 
the same time, threaten the city from Georgetown. This must 
necessarily create a jfhnic, and the withdrawal of troops from the 
line of the Lexington and Covington railroad. 

''What's the news from Frankfort?" asked Morgan of his cou- 
rier, as he rode up, covered with dust and perspiration. 

"About three thousand troops, colonel, and fortifying. Ex- 
pecting an attack every hour." 



" Ah, hah !" ejaculated the colonel to himself. "All right^usl 
as I desire." 

The morning snn was jnst beginning to beam above the eastern 
korizon, when Colonel Morgan, at the head of his men, set off at a 
rapid pace on the road that leads from Georgetown to Cynthiana. 
They had proceeded but a few yards, when a courier dashed to 
his side. 

"How is Lexington?" inquired the colonel, checking his horse. 

" All in consternation, colonel, since yesterday evening. It is 
believed that our men, to the number of several thousand, are 
moving on that place from Winchester; that the road to Paris 
was destroyed, and that you would attack the city early this 
morning. Couriers were immediately dispatched to Paris for re- 
inforcements just as soon as the news reached Lexington, and 
troops had already commenced to pour in from that point when I 
left, about two hours ago." 

"Did you meet Captain Harrison and his men?" 

" I did, sir, half way to Lexington." 

" Trapped, bagged, indeed I" said Morgan. "Til show them 
who's bagged." 

The July sun poured down his hot, scorching rays on the mov- 
ing column, as it dashed along the dusty limestone road. The 
springs and streams were dry, and not a drop of water could be 
obtained for man or horse, after leaving Elkhorn creek at George- 

It was just past noon when the wearied and dust-covered col- 
umn of almost famished men were ordered to halt, three miles 
from Cynthiana. The scouts that had been sent forward to as- 
certain the position of affairs at that place, returned, bringing the 
inttlligence that a large force of infantry, cavalry, and artillery 
was well posted in the town for its defence. 

" Call Major Gano," ordered Colonel Morgan. " Major," said 
he to that officer, who promptly appeared in response to the call, 
*' take your Texas squadron and make your way round so as to 
enter the town from the right ; and you, Colonel Har{)er, with 
your regiment of Georgians, cross the river and get into the rear. 
Lieutenant Harrison, you, with your artillery, accompany me. 
The attack will be made by me in front in half an hour." 

The Texas and Georgia regiments dashed off to take the posi- 
tions assigned them. 

Colonel Morgan, at the head of his men, moved down the pike. 
"When within half a mile of the town, orders were given for four 


hundred men to dismount and secure their horses in a woodland 
to tlie right. The others were to remain mounted, and da^h upon 
the cavuh-y of the enemy, his infantry being !n most excellent 
position, just outside the town, protected by a stone fence. 

Tiie engagement commenced by tiie firing of a volley from the 
enemy, upon the advancing column. TliTs was quickly responded 
to by Harrison's battery. 

"Forward !" rang out, and the men, inspired by their leader's 
presence and daring, rushed on tiie concealed foe. The Federal 
cavalry were soon driven back before the impetuous onset of the 
Confederates, But the infantry, protected by the stone fence, held 
their position, and continued to pour volley after volley into the 
advancing ranks. 

Here and there fell one and another, killed or wounded. But 
the moving force pressed steadily on. Showers of bullets cut the 
air and sped on their work of death. The loud and rapid dis- 
charge of artillery stunned the ear with deafening roar. For an 
hour the contest rnged with the wildest fierceness on both sides. 
The Federals knowing their advantage in position, and stimulated 
by the cheering words of their commanders, were determined not 
to yield. 

But they could no longer withstand the impetuous charges of 
Morgan's men, who fought with more than their wonted despera- 
tion, and finally they began to retreat. They fell slowly back, 
taking advantage of every fence and house, -to shelter themselves, 
and fire upon their pursuers. There was a stone wall within the 
Burburbs of the town, behind which a squad of men had taken 
cover, and from this protected point they poured into the Confed- 
erate ranks a sharp and destructive fire. They could be dislodged 
only by a direct charge upon their position. Private Moore, of 
Louisiana, heading a company of twenty-five men, rushed upon 
it in face of a rapid fire of musketry, and, leaping the fence, routed 
the enemy, who fled in wild confusion, throwing aside guns and 
haversacks in their precipitate flight. 

The Home Guard made a sudden rush for the Court-house, 
but this movement had been anticipated, and a detachment of 
Confederate cavalry swept round and cut ofi" their retreat. The 
regulars were hemmed in between Morgan in front and Gano on 
the right, wiiile the Georgians moved up in the rear. Thus com- 
pletely surrounded, they saw nothing before them but a hand to 
hand fight. 

Suddenly white handkerchiefs were observed streaming from 


the points of many bayonets, and waviug from windows. The 
battle was over. Piie vanquished enemy had surrendered. 

Four hundred and twenty persons were soon paraded in front 
of the Court-house for parole, among whom were seventy Home 

Colonel Morgan, whiler crossing the street, had his attention ar- 
rested by a little girl who ran wildly along shrieking with fright. 
He caught the child in his arms, and asked her what was the 

She laid her little bare head on his shoulder, and sobbed wildly. 
He smoothed her tangled hair, patted her stained cheeks, and with 
soothing voice endeavored to assuage her grief. 

It was several moments before she could speak. 

" Oh, my father — my dear father ! They have got him ! I will 
never see him no more!" And the little, trembUug creature burst 
into a fresli paroxysm of tears. 

" Where is your father, my child ?" asked the colonel, in a soft 
tone, at the same time continuing his caresses. 

" The Secesh has got him, sir. They'll put him in the big prison. 
Aunt Nancy told me so." 

" And where is your mother, my child ?" 

"I haven't got no mother, sir. She's went up to heaven, when 
I was a little baby." 

Colonel Morgan felt the tears rush to his eyes. He thought of 
his own little girl and her mother now in heaven. He understood 
the whole case, and bearing the child in his arms, he moved into 
the midst of the prisoners. 

''Whose child is this?" asked the colonel. "Is her father 

A man — one of the Home Guards — rushed forward. 

"It is my child, colonel. Thank you — thank you for your 
kindness," said the grateful father, as the tears streamed down 
his face. 

It was an affecting incident — such a one as sometimes occurs 
to relieve the horrors of dread-visaged war. And none of those 
who witnessed it were ever known to call Colonel Morgan harsh 
names after that. 

The men were speedily paroled and sent under an escort to Fal- 
mouth, where they took cars for Cincinnati. Colonel Morgan 
found himself possessor of a fine 12-pounder brass piece of artillerj-, 
a large number of small-arms, a great supply of commissary and 
medical stores, tents, ammunition, and about three hundred gov- 


eminent horses. The horses — such as were deemed fit — were se- 
lected by the men ; the stores of all kinds, together with the am- 
munition, were destroyed. 

The command rested in Cynthiana for the night, ready to set 
out on their victorious march at an early hour on the following 




The alarm and uncertainty which pervaded the Federal forces 
in central Kentucky at the brilliant exploits of Colonel Morgan, 
and the rapidity of his movement.*, can scarcely be conceived. 
Lexington and Paris both threatened, Cynthiana taken, no one 
could decide which would be the next point of attack. Lexington 
called upon Paris for reinforcements — Paris, in reply, demanded 
succor of Lexington. But the condition of the latter city became 
so hazardous, menaced as it was from the direction of Georgetown 
and Richmond, that it was finally decided t6 concentrate the troops 
within its limits for its defence. Accordingly, the forces were 
ordered from Paris to Lexington, leaving the former town wholly 
at the mercy of the advancing foe. 

On the 19th of July, the day following the capture of Cynthiana, 
Colonel Morgan moved upon Paris, now entirely undefended. 
When within a few miles of the city, he met a flag of truce, ten- 
dering him the peaceful and quiet possession of the place, and 
when he entered the streets, cheers and welcomes rang out on the 
air. Remaining here through the night, Colonel Morgan under- 
stood, through his scouts, that very nearly the entire force from 
Lexington was being moved upon Paris, for the purpose of attack- 
ing him, Kot desiring an engagement, when it could be avoided, 
Colonel Morgan determined to fall back upon Richmond, prepara- 
tory to leaving the State. Accordingly, orders were issued to the 
men to be ready to march early the following morning. Mean- 
while, pickets kept watch, lest at any time they should be sur- 

As the Confederates were setting out the next day towaras 
Richmond, they discovered the Federals moving towards the town 
from Lexington. Colonel Morgan called a halt, and, by a little 
manoeuvring, so scared the Yankees, who supposed he intended to 
flank them, that they wheeled about and made a quick retreat. 
Thus relieved of their presence. Colonel Morgan was enabled to 
bring off all his guns and stores without molestation or detriment. 


The only loss sustained was that of one picket, wlio, it was s;up- 
posed, was surprised and captured by the enemy in their advance. 

From Paris the Confederate force marched to Richmond. Here 
tlie warmest enthusiasm {^jreeted them on all sides. Their passage 
through the town to their encampment beyond, was a grand ova- 
tion, each individual vieing with his neighbor in his endeavors lo 
manifest his delight and approbation. Ladies showered bouquets 
and waved handkerchiefs — children waved handkerchiefs and 
smiled — men, old and young, smiled, and bowed, and hurrahed. 
Ample [trovislon v/as made for a luxurious repast for the whole 
command, who partook of tlie kindly cheer with right good zest, 
their appetites being well developed by their long and weary ride. 
Several recruits joined them here, who were furnished with arms 
and mounted. 

It had been Colonel Morgan's intention to remain in Richmond 
several days, thereby giving an opportunity for the enrolment of 
many who were desirous to enlist under bis standard, but being 
informed that a large cavalry force had been sent out by way of 
Danville to intercept and cut vS his retreat, he determined to 
thwart their plans by pushing forward to Crab Orchard, which 
point he reached the 22d July, at daybreak. 

There he found about one hundred and twenty wagons and 
about one million dollars' worth of stores, all of which was given 
into the hands of his men to be destroyed, as it was impossible to 
remove any tiling over that rugged, broken country. The boys 
gave themselves to the w^ork of burning and breaking with great 
zest, and soon the gigantic task was accomplished and the whole 
column again on the advance towards Somerset, which was 
reached at sundown of the same day. This point was the depot 
of the Federal army at Cumberland Gap, and contained large 
stores. Colonel Morgan, feeling entire safety, took possession of 
the telegraph office, and countermanded every order of General 
Boyle with regard to the movement of the troops still in pursuit 
of him. There another million dollars' worth of Federal prt)per:y 
w\as destroyed, and a thousand stand of arms recaptured that had 
been taken from General Zollicoffer's forces at the memorable and 
disastrous engagement at Fisiiing Creek. 

Having here rested his troops, Colonel Morgan moved forward 
to Sparta, which point he reached July 2it\\, having been absent 
on his expedition just twenty days, during which time he "cap- 
tured (and paroled) over twelve hundred prisoners, seven thou- 
sand stand of arms, one gun, and destroyed, at lowest computa- 


tion, seven and a half million dollars' worth of stores, arm<5, and 
subsistence, besides hospital buildings, bridges and other propertv. 
Besides this, with the loss of only ninety men, he dispersed over 
seventeen hundred Home Guards, captured seventeen towns, in 
whic'li he destroyed war matej-ial, and marched above one thou- 
sand miles, and recruited his force of eight hundred and seveutv 
men to twelve hundred." 

After Colonel Morgan's return from Kentucky into Tennessee, 
the latter part of July, he removed his headquarters to Hartsville, 
a small town on the north bank of the Cumberland, some twelve 
or fifteen miles from Gallatin, in a direct line, but much further 
tlian this by the river. 

There was a Federal force, mostly Kentuckians, in possession of 
Gallatin, commanded by Colonel Bruce. Colonel Morgan deter- 
mined to capture the town, Yankees and all, and to this end he 
sent a force under Captain Desha to execute his purpose. This 
was on the morning of the 12th of August. The detachment was 
accompanied by George A. Ellsworth, telegraph operator, who 
had, on so many occasions, rendered Colonel Morgan valuable 
assistance while in Kentucky. The morning was beautifully 
bright ; the sun had scarcely risen when the party found them- 
selves within two miles of the town. Dashing forward so as to 
catch the Federal colonel unawares, the Confederates were de- 
manding the surrender of the place before the Yankees knew 
aught of their unwelcome presence in their vicinity. The move- 
ment was comme il faut. The Federals were completely sur- 
prised. No resistance whatever was offered, but surrender came 
as if it had been a premeditated thing. The men, with their col- 
onel, were paroled by Captain Desha. When, however, the 
])aroled colonel and his men reached Louisville, a few days after- 
wards, they were arrested on the charge of cowardice, and sent 
forward to Camp Chase for imprisonment. 

Colonel Bruce was severely reprimanded for yielding his coin- 
Miand into the hands of the enemy without a struggle; but he 
argued that resistance, under the circumstances, was wholly use- 
less. They were surrounded by the Confederates without a mo- 
ment's warning. His men were not under arms, there was no 
organization,* nor could any be effected before the rebels were 
upon them. 

While Captain Desha, assisted by Captain McCann, of the 
Cheatham Rifles, was scaring the Yankee Kentuckians out of all 
Fense of propriety by marching upon them, mm ceremonie^ and 


clairaiDg them as prisoners, Mr. Ellsworth was playing his part of 
the game by annoying the enemy with dispatches. Dashing into 
Gallatin, on his fine chestnut sorrel steed, booted and spurred like 
any other brave Knight of the Southern Cross, he rode quickly 
up to the principal hotel and iu(iuired, in quite a peremptory tone, 
for the telegraph office. 

^'At the depot, sir," replied the waiter of the public house, 
looking at him in blank astonishment. 

Ellsworth hesitated no further. Spurring his horse, he galhjped 
olf at full dash to the depot. Alighting, hurriedly, and throwing 
the rein over his horse's head, he burst open the door, and sprung 
up stairs to the bedroom of the sleeping operator, who, aroused by 
the dreadful noise, looked up from his bed to see — oh, horror 1— a 
'• rebel" standing over him with a six-shooter presented at his head. 
Pale with affright at this most fearful apparition, he sat stark 
upright in the bed. Could it be so? He rubbed his eyes and 
gazed wildly up. There it stood. Was it ghost or de'il, or what 
was tenfold worse than either— an avenging rebel? His hair 
stood on end. His eyes stared fearfully from their sockets ; his 
lips were pale and motionless; he trembled from head to foot, 
like one suddenly seized with a strong ague. 

" Why are you so scared, man ?" said Ellsworth to him. " I do 
not want your life— behave yourself, and you have nothing to fear. 
Resist, and you are a dead man. Dress yourself and come with 
me; Colonel Morgan nfeeds your services in the room below." 

The poor affrighted operator, somewhat reassured, sprung from 
his bed at the word of command, and hastily donned his apparel. 
As he gave the last few hurried strokes to his hair, Ellsworth, 
impatient of waiting, turned upon him and said : 
" Now, follow me, sir, to the room below." 
The man seized his hat and obeyed the command with alacrity. 
">fow, show me all your signals. Mind, no cheat. I will not 
be imposed on," said Ellsworth sternly, as the two reached the 
room and stood beside the desk. 

Had the operator thought for a moment of deception, the blood- 
thirsty look of the huge revolver which Ellsworth still held in his 
hand, would have dissipated any such intention in a moment. 
" Now, let me test the line to Nashville and Louisville." 
The Yankee, with a gracious smile, stepped aside. 
" O. K.," said Ellsworth ; " what is your earliest office hour ?" 
''Seven-thirty minutes, sir," responded the operator, bowing 



'' And it is now just five," said Ellsworth, taking out his watch 
and looking at the time; " two hours and a half before I can begin 
ray work." 

Ellsworth ordered breakfast for himself and prisoner, and tlie 
two sat down side by side to the steaming coffee and smoking rolls 
as if they had always been the veriest cronies. 

" Seven o'clock! we must to our work, sir!" and Ellsworth es- 
corted his new-found friend from the breakfast-table back to the 

Placing Mr. Brooks outside the office under 'guard, Ellsworth 
entered and took possession, feeling that he sufficiently unde^rstood 
matters to communicate with any point. 

The signal was given at seven and ten minutes. It was from 
the depot office in Nashville. 

"Train left here for Louisville on time." 

Another signal, and the operator at Franklin, Kentucky, informed 
Gallatin that the train had left on time for the South. 

Ellsworth stepped to the door. 

" Tell Captain McCann I wish to see him at this place immedi- 
ately," he said to a Confederate soldier who was standing near. 

In a few minutes the captain rushed into the room. 

"Any trouble, Ellsworth ?" 

"The train from Franklin will be due, captain, in a very Uttle 
while. Had you not as well prepare to take charge of her ?" 

" Certainly, certainly, Ellsworth. I will do so with pleasure ;" 
and the captain dashed out, called together his men, and posted 
them in proper position for the proposed business. 

Soon the train came steaming on, all unconscious of danger. She 
had scarcely reached the water-tank, just outside the town, when 
the Confederates very politely made known their desire to take her 
in charge. 

This was readily assented to by the engineer and conductor, 
who saw that resistance or escape was not for a moment to be 
thought of. 

The train from Nashville was due, but there were no indications 
yet of her arrival. 

Ellsworth, seating himself, asked of the Nashville operator : 
" Train No. 6 not yet arrived. What can be the trouble with her V 

The reply soon came. " Guess Morgan's got her ; she left ou 
time with twenty -four cars, six loaded." 

Bowling Green called Gallatin. " Where is the Nashville train ? 
Heard any thing from her ?" 


"Not yet arrived," responded Ellsworth. 

Bowling Green then called Nashville. " Gallatin says No. 6 Dot 
yet arrived; have you heard from it?" 

Nashville, in reply, said: ''No; they left on time." 

Bowling Green, quite perturbed and beginning to suspect foul 
play, called to Nashville: "Any rumors of the enemy between 
Nashville and Gallatin?" 

"Nary rumor!" was the laconic answer. 

Gallatin was then informed by Nashville that the passenger train 
had left on time, .bound North. 

Inquiry after inquiry was made of Gallatin with regard to the 
two trains, both by Nashville and Bowling Green. The invariable 
response of Gallatin was, "Not yet arrived." 

Eleven o'clock came. Nashville, as if aroused by some sudden 
fury, began to call on Gallatin with great earnestness. 

Ellsworth suspected the cause. The cars, having obtained in- 
formation of the occuf)aiicy of Gallatin by the Confederates, had 
suddenly put back to Nashville and given the alarnj. Questions 
were asked which Ellsworth did not dare to answer, for fear of 

He stepped to the door and invited in the Federal operator, Mr. 

"Now, sir," said Ellsworth to him, "I want you to answer 
Nashville in the most satisfjictory manner. I shall listen to your 
replies, and if there is any thing wroni;, it will have to be atoned 
for by a life during the war in a Dixie prison." 

"All shall be right, sir," responded the accommodating opera- 
tor, glad to be at his old work again. 

Nashville, with suspicions highly aroused, called to Gallatin : 
" "What w^as the name of that young lady you accompanied- to 
Major Foster's ?" : 

"Be careful," enjoined Ellsworth, leaning over the shoulder of 
the operator. " Give a correct reply !" 

"I don't remember of going to Major Foster's with any yourg 
lady," was the response. 

" What about that nitric acid I sent you the other day V asked 

"You sent me no nitric acid." 

"Is that correct?" and Ellsworth eyed the operator sternly. 

"Correct, sir," 

Nashville, yet suspicious: "Mr, Marshall, the Superintendent of 
Eailroads, is not yet satisfied that you are not Morgan's operator, 


and wishes you to tell him who you desired to take your place 
while you were gone on leave of absence, how long you wished to 
be gone, and where did you wish to go?" 

Gallatin responded: "Tell Mr. Marshall that I wished Mr. Clay- 
ton to take my place, while I got a week's leave to go to Cincin- 

Nashville w^as convinced, and soon there came over the wirea 
the following order: 

'•To MrPwPHY, Conductor, Gallatin: 

" You will run to Edgefiel^t Junction to meet and pass trains 
Nos. 4 and 6, and pass them both at that point. Answer how 
you understand. B. Marshall." 

The answer was promptly returned, that the instructions would 
be obeyed. 

Nashville informed Ellsworth that "trains Nos. 4 and 6 had left 
again at eleven fifteen minutes." 

About four o'clock in the afternoon, Nashville again called lusti- 
ly on Gallatin: "Trains Nos. 4 and 6 are back again the second 
time. We have positive information that the enemy is in posses- 
sion of Gallatin. Where is Murphy ?" 

It was unnecessary to practise the deception further. The cars 
would not come. 

At five o'clock, Ellsworth sent the following to George D. Pren- 

" Gallatin, Aug. 12, 1862. 
"Geokge D. Prentice, LonsviLLE, Kt. : 

"Your prediction, in yesterday's paper, regarding my where- 
abouts, is like most of the items from your pen. You had better 
go to Jeflfersonville to sleep to-night. 

"John H. Morgan, 

Commanding Brigade." 

A lady, beautiful and sprightly, accompanied by Captain Mc- 
Cann, and two other ladies, made her appearance in the oflfice, and 
was introduced to Mr. Ellsworth. 

"Will you, Mr. Ellsworth, send a message to Prentice for mel" 
she said, laughing. 

"Assuredly I will, with pleasure." 

81)6 turned to the desk, and hurriedly wrote her dispatch: 


"Gallatin, Aug. 12, 1862. 
"George D. Prentice, Louisville, Ky, : 

'' Your friend. Colonel John II. Morgan, and his brave followers, 
are enjoying the hospitalities of this town, to-day. 

"Wouldn't you like to be here? The colonel has seen your 
$100,000 reward for his head, and offers $100,000 better for yours, 
at short range. 

" Wash. Morgan, whom you published in your paper some time 
ago, when he was in Knoxville, accompanies his cousin John, with 
four hundred Indians. He seeks no scalp but yours. 

# "A Secesh Lady." 

Mr. Brooks, who was now released from his military position, 
as prisoner, joined -in the conversation of the merry party, with as 
much zest as any one. He seemed to enjoy highly the whole day's 
proceedings, and even jested over his morning fright. 

The party repaired to the house of the lady, where, with the 
assembled fair of the good town of Gallatin, the lieroes of the day 
passed the evening with song and dance, and the graphic recital 
of thrilling adventure. Every manifestation of joy that the citi- 
zens of Gallatin could give at their release from Yankee thraldom, 
was displayed by all classes. 

Captains Desha and McCann, and their men, Were welcomed to 
the best cheer the town could offer — were feted and toasted — and 
smiled upon by bright eyes, until they were made to appreciate, 
in some degree, at least, the great favor they had bestowed on the 
grateful inhabitants. 




The great joy of the good people of Gallatin at being relieved 
from Federal domination, by^lie brilliant and successful attack of 
the Southrons, under Captains Desha and McCunn, was soon turn- 
ed to mourning, by the sudden reoccupation of tlie town by the 

Xashville was aroused when she heard that Boone and his men 
had been seized upon by the Confederates, and the Yankees were 
determined to be avenged for the loss, by repossessing Gallatin, 
capturing the hated Morgan and his men, if possible to do so, and, 
in the event of failure in this object, to wreak vengeance on the 
defenceless inhabitants of the town and country. 

Accordingly, an Indiana regiment, headed by one Colonel Hef- 
feren, set out from Jifashville to avenge the dignity of the Federal 
arms on the audacious rebels, who had dared to molest them in 
their fancied security. 

Tiie Federals proceeded to Gallatin, but found no Confederates 
upon whom to be revenged. But their insatiable cruelty must be 
gratified, and with that liendishness characteristic of the Yankee 
soldier, they sought out the aged and peaceful citizens, and drag- 
ged them from their homes, to incarcerate them in their wretched 

From house to house these armed wretches proceeded, bursting 
open doors, rushing from room to room, using the most revolting 
language to unprotected females, dragging forth, with abuse and 
cruelty, old men whose only crime was daring to oppose such 
inhuman proceedings, and a government that would sanction and 
support them. 

Store doors were forced by this lawless mob, dressed in the 
uniform of United States soldiers; the owners were seized and 
placed under guard, and all their goods either appropriated or 
wantonly destroyed. A squad of fifteen of these armed rutfians, 
with demoniac yells and imprecations, rushed upon the Masonic 
Lodge, drove in the door, and with the fury of madmen, upset 


and broke cliairs, table?, desks, daslied the fragments about tlie 
room, threw the Bible from the window, dragged forth the para- 
phernalia of the order, and scattered it wildly about the street. 

The astonished citizens stood aghast in mute horror as this 
fearful work of destruction progressed, not dai-ing to offer even a 
word of protest against the brutal outrage. Private property 
shared the same fate, and those who were known to the despera- 
does as Southern men and women, had to behold in silent despair 
their houses sacked, their valuables destroyed before their eyes, or 
taken otF by the despoilers. 

The work of lawless plunder ended, the unholy rioters set out 
to return to Nashville, carrying with them forty of the best citi- 
zens of the place. 

They proceeded on foot as far as Sandersville, at which place 
Colonel Morgan's men had burnt the railroad bridge, only a few 
days before. 

They had not advanced many miles on their way before Colo- 
nel Morgan, with twelve hundred men, appeared in the streets of 
Gallatin. His arrival was greeted with the joyous tears of the 
grateful citizens, who hailed him as the deliverer of their hus- 
bands, sons, and brothers. 

He needed not to be importuned to pursue the dastardly foe. 
Gaining a few points of information, he dashed out after him. He 
liad not gone fur before he overtook the retreating column, who, 
instead of giving biittle, fled precipitately in the direction of Nash- 

The Confederates pursued the fleeing Indianians, killing about 
sixty and taking a large number prisoners. 

On they dashed, as if for dear life, the victorious troops driving 
them everywhere before them with dreadful carnage. At last, 
the remnant of the fugitives, breathless with affright, threw them- 
fielves behind a triangular stockade at the junction of the rail- 
roads, and here made a stand. The Confederates made a charge 
upon the ranks, but it was a strong position, and the few Yankees 
sheltered behind the walls would not repay for the trouble, so the 
colonel withdrew and retraced his way to Gallatin, bearing with 
Lim the released citizens, who had been rescued from a doom 
worse than death. 

The women rushed into the streets, wild with joy, as they saw 
the conquerors advance, bringing with them their husbands and 
sons. They clasped their benefactors in their arnis, tlKniked them 
■with streaming faces, and invoked the blessing of Heaven on them 


in all their andertakings. Never was there a more affecting 
scene, and never before had Colonel Morgan and his men felt so 
grateful for triumph over the foe. 

Officers and men were alike welcomed into every house, where 
repasts were prepared for them with a lavishness that fully be- 
8.)()ke the gratitude of generous hearts. The young ladies played 
a:id sang for the gallant heroes who had restored to them their 
fathers and brothers. A late hour in the night found the festivity 
and joy unabated. 

Early the next morning Colonel Morgan was informed that a 
large Federal cavalry force, led by R. R. Johnston, formerly a 
lawyer, of Paducah, Kentucky, who had been sent out for the 
express object of capturing him and his command, was rapidly 
marching on Gallatin. 

With his wonted quickness Colonel Morgan rallied his forces, 
and set out on the Hartsville road to encounter his sanguine pur- 

With him were Major Duke, Colonel St. Grenfel, Major Gano, 
Captains Desha, McCann, Hamilton, Castleman, Harrison, etc., all 
of them tried men, whose courage and daring were everywhere 
known and acknowledged. The force of the enemy was reported 
as very heavy, well armed and equipped. 

Il^othing daunted by those rumors of superiority, the brave 
Southrons shouldered their guns, and, mounting their steeds, 
rushed out to the conflict. 

They had proceeded but a mile when the cry ran through the 
ranks, "The Yankees! the Yankees!" 

Instantly orders were given to halt and prepare for an engage- 
ment. Colonel Morgan formed his men as rapidly and as well as 
he could, and opened upon the advancing foe a heavy volley of 
musketry. The attack was furious ; the Yankees replied in a man- 
ner which told their determination to fight. 

Again and again, in rapid succession, were the Federal ranks as- 
sailed by a stunning shower of Minnie balls and bullets, while the 
men advanced nearer and nearer towards the serried ranks of the 
enemy. The sharp, quick fire of the guns, mingling with the low 
bass of the trampling horsemen, filled the air with strange, wild 

'^ They are determined to give ns close quarters," observed Col. 
Morgan to Major Duke at his side. '"See, they are advancing 
rapidly upon us !" 

" But see, colonel," said Duke, " they bring a flag of truce ; they 


will surrender. Cowards!" added Duke, scowling, " thus to yield 
without a figiit." 

'' They surely will not do that," rejoined Morgan, keei)ing liis 
eye steadily fixed upon the approaching squad, who hore down 
upon them at a pretty lively pace, " They would brand themselves 
vith infamy forever to pursue such a course." 

The tiring ceased as soon as tlie flag had been observed, and the 
column, all ready for a renewal of the engagement, stood awaiting 
the issue of the parley. 

Colonel Morgan received the deputation with his usual dignity 
and grace. 

The note was presented, bearing the signature of the Federal 
colonel. It was a request for an armistice of several hours. John- 
ston stated that he was surprised ; hadn't his men together and 
was not prepared for battle. 

Colonel Morgan read the missive. 

"Tell your colonel," said he to the Yankee adjutant, "that he 
has been pursuing me from point to point, eager for a fight. I 
am now ready, and he can have it. If he can defeat me, very 

The officer dashed back to his colonel with the pithy reply, and 
in a few minutes hostilities were resumed. 

The Confederates, like men in earnest, pressed upon the foe, 
sending at every step a hail-storm of bullets into his irresolute 
ranks. The Federals made but a feeble reply. Onward drove the 
inspirited men — onward, onward to glorious victory. 

Again appeared the truce flag/ Johnston had surrendered ! Loud 
and long rose the shout from the joyous hosts of the victors. The 
air was rent with their wild acclamations. 

The Federals were surrounded and compelled to lay down their 
arms. Colonel Johnston, with six hundred of his men, were made 
prisoners. The remainder fled to the Cumberland. Believing 
themselves pursued, they had cast aside every thing that might re- 
tard their flight, and actuated by that strongest law of our nature, 
"self-preservation," had betaken themselves to the river by the 
shortest available route, thinking if they could but place that 
stream between them and the pursuing hosts, they had nothing to 
fear. On reaching the bank of the Cumberland, many deserted 
their horses and dashed into the stream to swim to the opposite 
shore. They were bootless, hatless, gunless, horseless — a parcel 
of poor affrighted men, running away as best they could, from the 
*' dreaded Morgan and his dare-devil crew." 


Finding themselves on the south bank of the stream with their 
horses on the wrong side, unable to walk to Nashville, they fell to 
work to pre-^s into service every horse, mule, and vehicle they 
could find. And it was a rich, rare spectacle to see the motWy 
cavalcade under whip and spur, bound in hot liaste for that city 
of safety. 

" What's the matter friends ?" asked a traveller, as he encoun- 
tered them outside of Lebanon, driving on as fast as circumstances 
would allow towards Nashville. 

"Done for — done for," was the response of a little red-haired 
man, who sat astride a mule, on which there was not even so much 
as a blanket; "Morgan has cut us all to pieces, taken our colonel 
and all his men, and we only are left to tell the tale." 

*' Too bad, my friend ! Has Morgan whipped us again? But 
where did this occur?" interrogated the delighted Southerner, pre- 
serving a grave mien and solemn tone. 

"At Gallatin!" responded half a dozen voices, as if eager to 
proclaim their defeat. 

" ^yho commanded you, and how many strong?" 

" We were under Colonel Johnston, and numbered eleven hun- 

"And did that desperado Morgan whip you with his handful of 
ragamuffins ?" 

" Oh! he had thousands — the earth was perfectly covered with 
his men. He did whip us, and I believe he can do it again. These 
Secesh seem to have the devil in them. They fight like the old 
scratch himself!" 

"Bad — bad!" exclaimed the traveller. "Something must be 
done to put this fellow Morgan out of the way." 

"Can't catch him ; he's here, and there, and everywhere. We 
were after him for days, and then met him where we didn't expect 
to find him. You can't head him ; it's no use trying !" 

The traveller bowed and rode on. As he passed along the Cf)l- 
umn, he asked several more the same question. All gave a like 
response. "Morgan had used them up !" 

Colonel Morgan again returned in triumph to Gallatin, bearing 
with him his long line of prisoners. The remainder of the day 
was occupied in giving them paroles. The next day Morgan 
and his men, followed by the blessings and prayers of the whole 
population of the little town, left Gallatin for earnest work else- 

But a few weeks elapsed, before the Yankees were again the 


masters of the place, exceeding, if possible, tlieir former cruelty 
and coarseness. 

Tims, in the short space of a few weeks, this little town, with 
its population of true Southern hearts, was thrice in the posses- 
sion of the diabolical foe — twice relieved by the most opportune 
presence of Colonel Morgan and his men. Such are the chances 
of war. 




After the brilliant victory at Gallatin, the Confederates retired 
to their headquarters near Hartsviile, to wait another favorable op- 
portunity to pounce upon the Yankees. The defeat of Johnston 
had served to greatly heighten their fear of the invincible and 
ubiquitous Morgan, teaching them an increased degree of caution, 
■which they evidenced by prudently keeping close to their base of 
operations. Xow and then, an ill-omened squad, venturing out 
too far, was caught up by the vigilant Southrons and placed be- 
yond the pale of further mischief. 

It was a time of activity with the Confederate army in Tennes- 
see. Bragg was busily engaged in preparations to move into Ken- 
tucky. Buell, understanding his designs, and desiring to thwart 
them, was slowly falling back from Deckherd. General Kirby 
Smith was advancing into Kentucky through Pound Gap, with an 
army destined to occupy the central portion of the State, and there 
act in conjunction with General Bragg, whose proposed route was 
through Glasgow, Mumfordsville, and Bardstown. 

Colonel Morgan, with a portion of his force, dashed once more 
into Glasgow, arrested th^provost-marshal of the place, and issued 
a proclamation, in which he told Union men of the punishment 
with which they were to be visited for their cruel treatment to his 

Then returning into Tennessee, he consummated his arrange- 
ments to accompany, Bragg on his proposed ex'pedition. 

'* We are going into Kentucky again, boys," said Lawrence, as 
the mess sat around the table one morning soon after the return 
from Glasgow, " and we go this time to stay." 

" Three cheers for old Kentucky I" huzzahed a half dozen voices. 
" Three cheers for the noble old State ; may we win her from Yan- 
kee rule!" 

" Come, Charley, what are you doing there, moping in that cor- 
ner?" said young Brent to our hero, as he lay stretched out on his 
straw pallet, on one side of the tenr. " Come, don't you see break- 


fast is ready? uiid didn't you hear tliat glorious news? We are 
going back to old Kentucky to stay. Why, Charley, I should 
think you would jump over the table at that glorious announce- 

*'I am delighted, Brent, at the news, but my head aches so mis- 
erably, I don't believe I could sit up. John, are you sure this is 
true? "Where did you get your information?" 

"From headquarters, Charley. It's as true as the Bible, and no 
mistake. Major Duke told Cal. Morgan, and I had it from Cal. 
himself just a few minutes ago. Come, Charley, get up, boy, and 
drink this cup of cotfee. It's some of my own make, and it is 
most excellent — isn't it, boys?" 

"First-rate! first-t-ate, John!" answered all present. "Good 
enough to make a sick man well." 

" Here, Charley, drink this," said Brent, as he moved from the 
tabie to the side of the straw pallet with a tin cup of smoking cof- 
fee in his hand. " Drink it, and if it doesn't cure your head in ten 
minutes, I am no doctor." 

"Charley raised himself up on his elbow, and taking the cup 
from the soldier's hand, sipped a few drops, and handed it back to 
his friend. 

"Pshaw, Charley, you haven't taken any. You must drink it 
all. Two sips won't cure you! I do believe, boys," said Brent, 
turning to the mess, "that Charley has the heartache! Have you 
been hearing any bad news from Kentucky lately ? Come, make 
a good confession. Here, let me feel your pulse. Pshaw! just as 
slow and steady as an old clock. Not a bit of fever. Now put 
out your tongue, Charley. I must examine you thoroughly, and 
find out your symptoms, before I can prescribe." 

Charley, smiling, obeyed the bidding, and turning his face full 
to the light, thrust out his tongue for Brent's inspection. 

" Why, your tongue is a little coated, old fellow— but not much. 
A good cup of cofiee, and you will be well by dinner. No time to 
get sick now; we maybe off to Kentucky in less than twelve 
hours. When did you say we were to set out, John?" 

"In a few days, less than a week, I understand. But it may be 
to-morrow. You know Colonel Morgan gives us but short notice." 

" Here, Charley, you nmst indeed take this coffee, — nothing like 
it for headache and heartache; indeed, it will cure all kinds of 
aches. Drink it down, and think of the Kentucky girls, and, my 
word for it, you will be well in two hours." 

"No doubt of it, Charley," said John. 


" But, here," said Brent, " let me pour you another cup. 
That's cold." 

''Don't put any sugar in it, John; t am sick at my stomach, 
and can't bear any thing sweet." 

The fresh coffee was handed, and Charley drank it down, wear- 
ing all tlie while a martyr look. 

"Now, be still a little while," said young Brent, feeling his 
pulse a second time with mock gravity, "and by dinner you may 
be up and preparing for your trip to Louisville." 

Breakfast being over, young Brent took it upon himself to 
clear away the table and arrange things generally. He could do 
this, he said, and at tlie same time attend to his patient. The 
other boys went out to learn the news of the day. 

They had not been gone more than half an hour, before John 
rushed back to the tent, his countenance bright with joy, exclaim- 
ing: "News from home, Charley — a letter, a letter! Come, my 
boy, this will make you well, and no mistake." 

Young Brent, who sat beside the open tent, motioned to him 
to be silent. 

"What's the matter. Brent?" inquired John, anxiously, as he 
reached his side and saw his grave expression of countenance. 

" Be still — Charley is asleep, and is really quite sick." 

"Oh, I hope not. Brent — nothing more than a nervous head- 
ache, I judge. You know he has done a great deal of hard work 
recently. No one fought more bravely at Gallatin than did he, 
and he has been kept quite busy since we came into camp." 

"It may pass oif without serious consequences, but I feel anx- 
ious. He has a very high fever. Here, look how red his face is, 
and he complains of severe pain in his side." 
. John approached the bedside, and stooped down to look at his 

The sleeper's lips moved — "Water, water!" he muttered. 

" What will you have, Charley?" asked John, bending tenderly 
over him, and speaking as softly as a woman. 

The sound of his voice aroused the sleeper, who, starting, 
opened his eyes and looked wildly up. 

'•What did you sa}', Charley?" repeated John. "Is there any 
thing you want ?" 

"1 didn't say any thing, did I? I must have been dreaming. 
But I am intolerably thirsty. Can I have some water, Doctor 
Brent?" he said, casting a mischievous glance into that peraon- 


Young Brent hastened to procure him a cup of fresh water. 
"Charley, wliat for a letter from old Kentucky?" asked John, 

'•Oil, have you a letter, John?" And Charley pprang up in 
bed and g.ized beseechingly on his friend. '^ Is it from Louisville ? 
But you havt-n't got one, John," he added, despoudingly. "Why 
did you tantalize me S(.?" and he fell back upon his pallet with a 
sigh. "Oh, my head!" he exclaimed, a moment after, pressing 
his hands on his temples. " It .-loiies to bursting." 

''I am sorry I excited vow sc, Charley; but here is a letter for 
you, and it is from Louisville, too," 

Charley stretched forth his hand eagerly, and grasped the ex- 
tended missive. 

"From Lu— my dear, dear sister. But how did you get it, 

"A man came through direct from Louisville— young Mayner. 
He brought a large lot of letters for our men." 

"Did you get one from home, John?" inquired Charley, most 

" Yes ; from Mary— a sweet, loving letter as ever a brother re- 
ceived. You shall read it, Charley, when you get through with 
yours. You will see Mary has not forgotten you. She mentions 
your name in every line. And she says, too, as you will see, that 
she has written you a long letter to be sent out with this. Per- 
haps it has not yet been distributed." 

" Where is Mayner now, John? Do tell him to come here im- 
mediately, if you please." 

" He is somewhere in camp. I will go directly and bring him 
here. But let's read our letters first." 

" Here is a good, cool drink of water, Charley ; I ran all the 
way from the spring," and Brent put the cup to his fevered lips. 
He swallowed tlie draught eagerly. 
" I must bathe your head, Charley." 

" Oh, wait. Brent, until I read my letter from home," and Char- 
lev hastily tore off the envelope. As he opened the letter, a neat- 
ly folded sheet of note paper, closely written, fell out. He toot it 
up and examined the signature. As his eyes rested upon it his 
face flushed crimson. 

" Ah, Cliarley will have no further need of my services now, 
John. That billet-doux will prove a sovereign panacea. Head- 
ache and heartache will now be cured. I'll leave you to your 
happiness, my most happy patient, and go and see if I can't hear 


of a letter for myself. Surely some friend has remembered 

Brent stepped outside the tent, leaving Charley to peruse his 
sheet uninterrupted by his presence. 

John sat down beside the straw pallet, and the two read and 
re-read their letters, and talked of the dear friends at home, whom 
they hoped so soon to see, until Charley forgot his headache in 
the joy of glad thoughts and bright anticipations. 

''How pleasant it would be, John, if we could but get to Louis- 
ville in time for Lu's marriage! It is strange Spalding told me 
nothing of this, when we met at Lebanon ; but then I left -^o ab- 
ruptly, and doubtless he had deferred it till morning. And Mary, 
too, she ought to have known of it." 

"She told me, Charley, that for some weeks previous to your 
sister's visit to Cincinnati — you know Miss Lu was there while 
we were in Kentucky — they had met only on the street. Lu fur 
some reason had avoided her. May not this account for her want 
of information?" 

With sparkling eyes and throbbing brain, Charley read over and 
over the letters. Great big tears gathered in his eyes and rolled 
down his burning cheeks, as he dwelt on the sweet words of love 
from her who was his heart's idol. 

'' All well, Charley ?" asked John, re-entering, after an absence 
of several minutes. 

"Very well," was the reply, while a happy smile lighted up the 
fevered face of the speaker. 

" Yes, that's it. How sad for us all that that miserably false 
report should obtain currency ! You know to what I allude, John ? 
It caused me such anguish as I could not describe, and produced 
that temporary estrangement between Mary and Lu — these two, 
who have been as sisters from their childhood." 

" Bad, bad — too bad. But it's all passed now, Charley, my boy, 
and we won't torment ourselves over it longer. You see, the two 
girls are reconciled, and I should think that you and Mary were 
friends again. And who knows, Charley, but we may yet be able 
to accept Miss Lu's invitation? Do you not know, my boy, that 
we are all going into Kentucky soon? I heard it just before I 
came to you ; but, in our joy over the letters, forgot to mention it. 
Yes, indeed, it's so. We go to stay this time, and, if I mistake 
not, I shall have the pleasure of attending more than one wed- 
ding," and John looked so significantly at his friend, that Charley, 
in spite of himself, blushed red, and betrayed deep embarrassment. 


'' Going into Kentucky ! when, John ?" and with tlie excitement 
of the thought, he sprang from liis straw pallet, on which he had 
been silting during the conversation, and placed himself on a sad- 
dle that stood nearby. "Can it be possible, John, that this \s 
true? Oil, what joy! But, then," and, sighing, he leaned his 
aciiing head on ids hand, ''J may not be well enough to go." 

"Oh, yes, you will, Charley. Why are you so despondent? All 
you need is a little rest. You have been overtaxed of late; in- 
deed, I don't think you have gotten over your trip to Kentucky. 
Come, now, you must lie down and be still; keep quiet, and you 
will soon be better. I'll go now and see if I can learn any thing 
respecting our movement." 

Charley threw himself on his low bed, in accordance with his 
friend'8 desire. But he could not rest. He endeavored to call in 
his thoughts and compose himself to sleep ; but the endeavor was 
a futile one — his mind would go out to live in the future. 





*'When do we set out for Kentucky, Irving?" asked young 
Gray, a member of Charley's mess, as with a group of boys he 
stood under the wide-spread branches of a sycamore-tree, eagerly 
listening to Irving's recital of the joy and glory that awaited the 
command, when, as victors, they should repossess the soil wrench- 
ed from them by the oppressive foe. 

"Very soon, I understand. Preparations are now being made 
for the trip. Hawkins, here, thinks it will not be more than a 

"And it may be earlier than that, Irving. Major Duke told me 
this morning that we must hold ourselves in readiness to leave at 
any moment after to-day. I should not be the least astonished if 
we receive orders in less than an hour to set out to-morrow morn- 

"What is that, Hawkins?" asked Lawrence, as he stepped up to 
the side of the speaker. " Is it certain we are going into Ken- 
tucky ?",- 

"No doubt of it, sir. "VTe are to accompany Bragg's army; 
that is, we are to move simultaneously with them." 

"And when will this be?" 

"We will leave this point very soon ; perhaps in less than twen- 
ty-four hours. There may be some work for us to do before we^ 
are ready for invasion." 

The old woods rang with loud acclaim, when the boys became 
assured that the rumor which had filled them with such anxious 
expectations, was really true. 

To Kentucky hearts, Kentucky is still dear. Her sons feel deep- 
ly the blighting disgrace under which she now rests, but they love 
her still; and with pity for what she is, and hope for what she 
yet may be, they stand ready to struggle, to fight, to pour out 
their best blood, to vindicate her rights and break the base, igno- 
ble shackles that now bind her to the most disgraced, ignominious 
despotism the world has known for ages. 

OF Moi:GAN AND lilS MEN. 2i3 

Noon came. Charley was no better. His fever had increa.sed, 
and with it the pain in his head. The physician was sent for, but 
he had rode oft' to a neighboring farm-house, where one of the 
men lay ill with fever. Just at night Dr. Lapsley returned to 
camp. He was immediately called in to see Charley. 

After thoruuglily examining his symptoms, he prescribed medi- 
cine to be taken at intervals of four hours through the entire 

"What do you think of my case, doctor?" inquired Charley of 
him, most anxiously, as the physician sat holding his pulse. " I 
will be well enough to go to Kentucky, won't I?" 

''Oh, I hope so, sir," responded the doctor, most encouragingly. 
"Your fever is pretty high at present. But I think a night's rest 
and the medicine I have left will greatly restore you. Who will 
take it upon himself to administer these powders, gentlemen? 
They must be given regularly." 

*-I," said John, promptly ; "just leave them with me, sir." 

"You understand directions?" 

John bowed assent. 

Next morning found our young friend much better. He had 
slept well through the night, and the medicine had produced a 
most happy efiect His head was measurably relieved, the pain 
from his side gone, and his fever quite abated. 

He spoke most hopefully of Kentucky, and, with the others of 
his mess, longed for the moment of departure to come. 

The doctor called early, pronounced him better, but advised 
quiet through the day. 

At noon, it was announced that the whole command must hold 
itself ready to leave the day after the morrow, 

Charley joyously set about preparations for the trip. When 
.evening came, he was weary and exhausted, and his fever quite 
burning. But he was determined to brave it out, and did not 
mention it to any one. He spent a restless, wakeful night, and 
the next morning found him unable to rise from his bed. 

Dr. Lapsley was again called in. He examined him and pro- 
nounced him worse. 

"Oh, can't I go, doctor?" asked Charley, in a most pleading 

The doctor hesitated to answer. " I must be candid with you, 
Charley," he said, after some delay. " I think it will be impossi- 
ble. I fear you may have a serious attack of fever." 

Charley turned himself on his low bed, and burst into tears. 


Brave, daring soldier as he was, he could not refrain from this ex- 
pression of his sore disappointment. The physician left directions 
and hastened away. 

"Brent," and Charley turned his face imploringly up to that of 
his faithful friend beside him, " I have a favor to ask of you. 
Will you write me a letter to-day, and take it witli you to Ken- 
tucky ? I feel I shall not go. I trust you as a friend. I know 
you will not betray me." 

''Yes, Charley, I will do any thing I can for yon." 

" Here, sit down beside me, and I will tell you all." 

The young soldier did as he was requested, and Charley told 
him the story of his love. 

"I confide my secret to you, Brent, as I would to a brother. I 
know you will not deceive me. Now get the paper, and let me 
tell you what to write." 

Brent wiped tlie tears from his face, and obeying Charley's 
directions, got paper, pen, and ink. 

The letter, full of love and devotion, was penned. 

" Tell my friends, Brent, that if I live I will follow the army 
into Kentucky as soon as I am able." 

Dr. Lapsley looked in about noon, to order Charley to be moved 
to a neighboring house. He had been out and secured a place for 
him. %- 

The ambulance was provided, and stood ready to carry him to 
his new home. One by one his friends called to bid him good- 
by. It yfas an affecting scene to see those brave men, so unused 
to weep, wipe away the tears from their sun-burned faces, as one 
after another took leave of their sick comrade. 

''I will stay with you, Charley," said John. "I feel it my 
duty. I cannot leave you in this condition." 

"Oh! no, John, I cannot ask it of you. The doctor informs 
me that the people where I am going have promised to nurse me, 
and he himself will board in the same family. No, no, go on, and 
may you be permitted to reach Louisville and see again all our 
dear friends there." 

John and Brent accompanied Charley, and saw him most com- 
fortably situated at farmer Johnson's. 

"Tell my friends all you know I would say, boys; I am too 
weak to talk now," said Charley to them, as they stood over him 
to bid him farewell. 

The boys shook his hand affectionately, wishing him a speedy 
recovery ; and dashing away their tears they hastened off to camp. 




The evening came gloriously down over the earth. Tlie day 
had been one of those soft, mellow days of early autumn, when the 
Spirit of Beauty, descending from her empyrean abode walks the 
earth in silent majesty, scattering from her celestial train enchant- 
ing loveliness to gladden the soul, permeating it with heavenly in- 
spirations and linking it in hope to the upper world, whose air is 
beauty and whose soul is infinite love. There is an intellectuality 
in the autumn which belongs to no other season of the year — a 
voice which speaks to man of the higher destiny that awaits him 
where, unclothed of the materiality that now fetters his thoughts 
and blinds his vision, he shall rise to the immortality of the just, 
and drink of the living fountain of knowledge and goodness that 
flows from the throne of the Infinite. 

Dressed^' the altar, the young girl stood amid her bridemaids 
the very personification of beauty. The natural grace and ele- 
gance of her form were charmingly manifested by the dress of rich 
white silk, with its point-lace flounces. A berthe of the same ma- 
terial fell from the tapering shoulders over the full bust. No or- 
nament, save the simple wreath of orange bloom which bound the 
bridal veil, decorated her person. 

On the stand beside her, in its soft case of white satin, lay a full 
and handsome set of pearls — the gift of her aflSanced, Mr. Spald- 
ing. Lu R. felt tempted to wear these superb jewels for his sake ; 
" But not to-night," she said in reply to Mary Lawrence's earnest 
request to be permitted to clasp them about her neck and arms. 
" Not to-night^ Mary dear; you know my fancy : no jewelry for a 
young bride. I feel he will not disapprove my taste. Nor do you, 
Mary ? — come, tell me truly. Do you not think it more befitting 
to dispense with jewels on such an occasion." 

" Yes, Lu ; but these are so handsome !" 

"And Mr. Spalding's gift," interposed Molly Brent, another at- 

"I'm sure they would be so becoming, Ln. You would look 


like one of the princesses of Oriental story — so majestic, so elegant. 
I could almost wish you would wear them," added Evangeline Le- 
noir — a beautiful girl of French descent, who, in early life, had 
been left an orphan in charge of an uncle, a man of wealth and 
position. "Just let me try them on you, Lu. There, see how 
beautiful! Oh! are they not exquisite — perfect? But I see you 
•would rather not wear them to-night ; so I'll unclasp them and lay 
them gently back in their soft bed." 

" When will you icear them^ Lu ? I am almost dying to see 
them on you !" exclaimed Dolly Quitman, as she gazed on the 
beautiful ornaments. " Oh, how superb they are! I never saw 
any thing more magnificent. But I agree with you, Lu, in your 
taste; I am determined when I marry not to wear ornaments, even 
if they are diamonds themselves." 

" ifow the queen, and now the gentle girl-bride," said Evange- 
line, as she undid the clasps and placed the ornaments back in the 
ecrin, beside which lay two other sets — one of amethyst and pearls, 
the other a chaste turquoise. 

And there she stood, the " girl-bride," as beautiful as a poet's 
dream. No ornament needed she to enhance her loveliness. Her 
black hair parted over her forehead, swept back from the full white 
temples over the delicate ear, and was gathered into a large roll 
behind, confined by a comb of consummate workmanftp, and her 
face was partly shaded by the gossamer veil that fell sweeping like 
fancy frost-work over the chiselled shoulders and full bust until it 
reached the floor. 

" And there were roses on her cheeks 
That came and went like living things." 

And her lustrous dark eyes beamed bright with the hope and 
joy of her swelling bosom. 

Below in the large, elegant parlors, numerous guests were as- 
sembled, awaiting in breathless expectation the appearance' of the 
bride and bridegroom — for it is now the hour of ten. 

A moment more and the throng from the door falls back — a wfiy 
is open — and the attendants pass in and form themselves on the 

Scarcely a moment for a glance at these four lovely creatures, 
all in virgin white, and their handsome escorts, before the manly 
form of the bridegroom, bearing on his arm his gentle, blushing 
bride, enters and fixes the gaze of all beholders. The minister ap- 
proaches, and standing before them, in a solemn and impressive 
ceremony unites for life the destiny of these two loving hearts. 


The prayer is ended and congratulations and kisses are showered 
on tlie happy pair, whose present is perfect happiness, and whose 
future now wears only the hue of the rose-tint. 

Ah ! well it is that at such moments one cannot look with un- 
clouded vision adown tlie way of life. For there must we behold 
the grief — the disappointment — the anguish — the parting — the pall 
— the bier — the narrow house which all must jneet, and our hearts, 
aweary with the contemplation, would sit down in silence and in 
gloom, heeding not the present good. What wisdom, then, that 
the veil of uncertainty is thrown before our eyes to shut out the 
ill that soon must come ! 

It was a joyous company. Ease and genuine hospitality char- 
acterized every movement of the kind host and hostess; and that 
freedom from restraint and mutual interchange of thought and 
feelings, which always distinguish wedding parties from all others, 
prevailed among the guests. There was but one cloud that threw 
its shadow over the bright and gladsome scene — it was the thought 
of the far-away loved ones. 

Many present had friends in the Southern army. Soon they 
must be exposed to the shock of battle; for it was fully known 
that General Bragg had taken up his march into Kentucky ; and 
the husbands, and brothers, and sons who accompanied him, with 
eyes fixed so strainingly on the old homes, and hearts bent so 
yearningly towards the loved ones there, might never again sit by 
the hearth-stone, or hold sweet converse with the cherished friends 
of yore. Ah, no ! but it might be that they would fall in the 
fierce conflict, and insatiate Death batten on their prostrate forms ; 
and amid the merry laugh and joyous conversation the heart 
would stand still at the dread picture which the imagination called 

The evening passed pleasantly: The entertainment throughout 
was marked by the finest taste and the utmost liberality. The 
table combined elegant profusion and most exquisite grace. The 
wines were of the finest flavor, the confections of the most choice 
kinds : while the polite and agreeable manner of Mr. and Mrs. E., 
served to heighten the pleasure of the whole. 

On the following morning, attended by numerous friends from 
the city, they proceeded to Lebanon, where several days were to 
be passed in festive enjoyments. Mary Lawrence was bonneted, 
all ready to take her seat in the carriage which was to convey the 
bride and groom to the railroad depot, when a note came sum- 
moning her to her mother's bedside. 




It was the early morning. The first rays of the sun, struggling 
through the thin clouds that lay lazily floating in the east, threw 
a soft, uncertain hght over the earth, which was but just awaken- 
ing from its deep repose, and early morning birds, decking afresh 
their soft plumage, began to warble their matinal paeans to Him 
who feedeth the young sparrows and satisfieth the desires of every 
living creature. 

The hand of autumn was just beginning to touch with mellow 
dyes the rich foliage of the woodlands. Already her presence had 
hushed into holy stillness the roystering summer, and filled the 
soul of nature with cahn, contemplative thought. 

Beside the uncurtained window, Charley lay on his soft, clean 
bed, looking out into the gray dawn of the morning. The long, 
weary hours of the night in which fitful sleep brought only ghast- 
ly dreams, were passed at last, and as he cauglit the first faint 
beams of the opening day, he thanked God that the dreary night- 
watches were over. His head ached — oh, so severely; and his 
heart sadly — ah, so sadly ! Alone — alone ! His friends gone 
— and he in pain and suffering, amid strangers, away, far, far away 
from home and kindred. No mother to bend over him and soothe 
his throbbing brain ; no father's voice to bid him hope ; no sister's 
gentle hand to smooth his pillow or administer the cooling febri- 
fuge. Alone — alone ! Great, scalding tears rushed to his eyes, 
and chased each other down his face. 

He endeavored to disengage his mind from these sad contempla- 
tions, and, turning on liis pillow, he strained his gaze through the 
window, to find, if perchance he might, some object to distract his 
attention. He saw the uprising sun battling with the slothful 
clouds, sending his golden glory through the ridgy rifts, and heard 
the birds sing from amid the drooping boughs that came down 
over his open window, and he thought but the more of home — for 
often in his careless boyhood had he looked upon the same morn- 


ing scene, and listened to the sweet songs of early birds. And the 
tears, a moment before wiped away, now streamed thick and 

Just then the loud and ringing shouts of his happy comrades, as 
they broke up camp and set out on their homeward inarch, borne 
on the morning's breeze, came in througli the casement and fell on 
his ear. He sighed deep. 

"Gone — gone — to Kentucky!" he sadly murmured to himself. 
*'And I am here alone— left without a friend— perhaps to die! 
They go to meet with parents and sisters, and mingle with them 
in joy and gladness amid the haunts of olden times, while I, in 
sickness and pain, must linger here in a strange land, with strange 
faces around me, where no one will care for me— and all tlie kind- 
ness I. shall receive will be bestowed because I am a Southern sol- 
dier. Hard— hard fate ! Oh, the horrors of this dreadful strife ! 
When shall it end, and we be permitted to return to homes and 
friends in peace?" 

Just then a gentle rap was heard at his room door. He wiped 
away his tears, and, assuming as cheerful a tone as he could, re- 
plied, " Come in." Supposing it to be one of Mr. Johnson's family, 
he drew the light spread up so as to conceal his face. 

'' Good-morning, Charley. How do you do ? What, old fellow, 
here by yourself ? Where is Dr. Lapsley ? I thought he was go- 
ing to cure you immediately, so that you might go into Kentucky. 
Didn't know but that I might find you well enough to set out with 
us this morning. Came by to see. Say, my boy, can't you be off? 
I cannot bear the thought of leaving you behind. How do you 
feel, anyhow? Let me call the doctor; isn't he in the house? 
Perhaps he will agree for you to go. I don't know but a ride in 
the cool morning would do you good. You can rest in the heat 
of the day. I will stay with you, and we can travel when it is 
cool. What say you, Charley?" 

" Oh, John, I wish I could go. But I fear I am too sick. My 
liead aches dreadfully, and I feel feverish and full of pain. But I 
am tempted to risk it, anyhow. I had just as well die in the 
effort to return, as to lie here and waste away. I am sure it will 
kill me to remain after you are all gone. The boys have all left, 
I suppose ?" 

'' Yes ; started out but a little while ago. Didn't you hear their 
shouts? A force left this morning before daylight — an advance. 
All of our mess, except myself, and I obtained permission to re- 
main, to come over and see how you did this morning." 



•'I am very glad you did, John," the sick man replied, looking 
gratefully up into the face of his friend. 

•' I have some little keepsakes I Tvish you to take home for me. 
I intended to mention it to you and Brent yesterday, but in the 
c-(jnfusion of the hour, I entirely forgot it. Look there, John, in 
tliat valise, you will find two rings and a breast-pin. Give the 
one with the three sets in it to my sister; the other, John, with 
the two hearts, to Mary. The pin I wish my mother to have. 
And here, John, take your knife, and cut off this lock of hair, and 
give it to them at home." 

""Why, Charley, what do you mean?'' asked his friend, in 
astonishment. " You talk as if you were making yonr last will 
and testament. I shan't cut off your hair at all. Yon will be 
sure then to think you are going to die, and I shall not be able to 
persuade the home-folks that you are not dead and buried. No, 
no. You must make haste and get well, and carry your own 
love-tokens. When shall I tell them you are coming? I must 
see the doctor, where is he ? I hope he will decide to let you go, 


"John, I am in earnest. I know you will not refuse me this 
last request, before we part. I am very sick. I may die. I de- 
sire that those three articles may be given as I have said. They 
are my own work, made, as you know, at Camp Chase. If I 
should die, and I may, you know, John, they will be Httle me- 
mentoes that my friends will cherish for my sake; and if I should 
recover — why, it will all be right." 

" Oh, well, Charley, I will take them if you wish me to, you 
know. But there is no need of sending souvenirs home, that I can 
see. You will get there as soon as we do. We go to open the 
way for you, and there will be nothing left for you to do but fol- 
low on." 

John stepped to the valise, which stood in the corner of the 
room, under the stairway, and, unlocking it, drew forth the keep- 

"Kow, John, the hair," said Charley. "You know that is an 
item of the request." 

"Well, where will I cut it?" inquired John, assuming a gay 
.'iir, although he felt as if preparing his friend for the coffin. " It 
will gratify you, and the hair will do for the girls to make rings of, 
;ind keep in their memory-boxes. You know all the ladies take a 
i"ck of Colonel Morgan's hair. I have seen them myself walk 
feiraight up to hira with a pair of scissors in hand and clip off a 


bit without leave or license, and you, Charley, wish to be as re- 
nowned in this particular as the colonel. Ah, me, we are all am- 
bitious ! But tell me where I must take it oflf? Here, just 
behind the ear? It will show less than anywhere else." 

" It matters not, John ; wherever it suits your fancy." 

" See, here, I have i?ot a big lock : this is enough to give you 
renown throughout all Louisville. The ornamental hair-makers 
will have enough to do for weeks to manufacture it into charms, 
and rings, and guards, etc., etc. But where will I find the doc- 
tor, Cliarley ? I must see him before I go, and it is high time I 
was off. Tlie Yanks will catch me, if I don't look out pretty 

''The doctor is up those stairs, John. I don't think he is out 
of bed yet." 

''Well, he must get up and tell me just exactly how you are. 
That's what I came here for. I wnshed to know precisely how 
your case stands. Til go up and rouse him. It's high time he 
was out of bed, anyhow." 

Without further ceremony John sprang up the stairway, three 
steps at a time, and, approaching the doctor's bedside, shook him 
most violently. 

"I want to know just how Charley is, doctor, before I set out. 
His friends will be anxious to hear all the particulars. He is 
awake now." 

The doctor made a hasty toilet and descended to the sick man's 
room. He examined him closely, and shook his head. 

''I must go. Charley," said John, bending over his bedside. " I 
hope you will soon be well enough to join us in old Kentucky. 
Don't give up ; you are not very sick. He will be well in a few 
days ; won't he, doctor ?" 

" I liope so, in the course of a week or ten days at the most," 
replied Dr. Lapsley. 

"My love to all Kentucky friends, John," said Charley, in a 
voice choked with emotion, while his bosom heaved, and his eyes 
became suffused with tears. 

"And shall tell them you will come as soon as you get well?" 

Charley bowed assent. 

"Good- by, Charley; keep in good spirits," and John shook his 
friend's hand most affectionately. 

Charley returned the kindiy grasp, but no words escaped his 
lips. He dared not trust himself with utterance. 

John wiped away the teai-s with his rough coak-sleeve, and 


grasping again the outstretched hand, turned hastily away and 
passed out of the door. 

The doctor followed hira to the stile. 

"What do you think of Charley's case, doctor ?" asked John, as 
the two walked out. 

" He is not very sick, now; but I think, from all his symptoms, 
that he may have a serious spell. He is greatly threatened with 
typhoid fever." 

"• What shall I tell his parents when I see them ?" 

The doctor, looking down on the ground, hesitated for some 
time to answer. 

"Tell them," he said at length, "that he is quite sick, but not 
dangerously so. I will give him every attention, and, I think, 
with careful nursing, he may be up in the course of two weeks, at 

John shook the doctor's hand warmly, and, mounting his horse, 
galloped off at full speed to join his command. 




Low, in that still, dark chamber, the young girl bent over the 
wasted form of the patient sufferer, as she lay there on the soft, 
white couch, resignedly awaiting the summons of the messenger 
that should bear her to the mansion prepared above. 

Long had the tried soul looked calmly at death as one who 
sliould deliver her from the pain and sorrow of tliis present time, 
and anxiously had she desired his guidance into that '' world to 
come," whose heavenly glory from afur had shone in upon her 
longing spirit, giving it a foretaste of that fruition wliich awaits 
the humble child of God in His infinite presence. Day by day 
had the immortal being been purified, sublimated, and now yet a 
little while and it should cast off the last lingering remains of 
earth, and rise to live forever amid joy unspeakable and full of 
glory ! 

Faithfully, tenderly, had the daughter watched beside the be- 
loved mother. Gently had her hand smoothed the aching pillow, 
soothed the fevered temples, wiped the damps of disease from the 
white, transparent brow ; had administered with solicitude to each 
want, had anticipated every rising desire. 

Her form was that of an angel minister, her light foot-fall as 
sweetest music to the loving mother, whose dimming eye would 
rest with look of tenderest affection upon her darling child. And 
often would the mother's heavenly aspirations fall back to earth 
and linger there, as she thought that soon she should see no more 
with earthly vision this cherished one, who, bereft of a mother's 
affection and care, must walk the paths of life alone — no guiding 
hand to point out to her its hidden snares and pit-falls. 

They were together alone one evening — the mother and daugh- 
ter. The physician had just left, who had confirmed the opinion 
of Mrs. Lawrence, that a few hours more might end her sufferings. 

It was a soft, still, September evening. The golden rays of the 
depariing sun stole faintly in through the draped window, and 
rested on the couch of the dying woman, and then fretted oat in 


dreamy lines upon the dark carpet of the floor. A fire was flick- 
ering in the grate. The mantel clock, with its wonted stroke, 
measured off the last hours of the waning life. Mary, to whom 
Dr. Hardin's words were not unexpected, for her quick eye had 
perceived the change come on which marks mortality . for the 
tomb, but upon whose young and devoted heart the announce- 
ment of its certainty fell as the storm on the crushed flower — the 
death-knell on the ear of joy — sat weeping beside the bed, holding 
the cold, wasted hand in hers. Her heart was well-nigh break- 
ing, yet she endeavored to suppress her emotion, for she would 
not disturb, by her grief, the last moments of her beloved parent. 

The dying woman fixed her languid eyes, beaming in their 
wasted light with love to her child, upon the bowed form before 
her — then closed them — and the thin bloodless lips moved in prayer. 

"Mary, my child," she said — her voice was very feeble — ''God 
will protect you, my darling." 

The young girl sobbed aloud. 

" "Weep not, my child. I go to be forever at rest." She paused, 
for her breath came feebly up. ''And you — God will shield and 
protect you. You have given Him your heart. He will never 
leave nor forsake you." The eyes closed, and the sufferer lay 
silent, exhausted. Recovering, she attempted to proceed — it 
required great effort. " Trust in His promises, and seek his gui- 
dance. And your brother, Mary, should you ever see him again, 
tell him my last moments were spent in prayer to God that he 
might be saved. Urge upon him the necessity of turning to God. 
Comfort your father, my child. He will be lonely now. Weep 
not for me, Mary. 'Tis the Lord — He doeth what is right." 

The sobbing girl slid from her chair, and, kneeling beside the 
couch, buried her face in the clothes, and wept convulsively. The 
mother lifted her feeble hand and rested it amid the luxuriant curls 
that fell over the bowed face. '' God bless you, my child, and 
give you that consolation which He alone can impart. And be 
thou, O Eternal Father, her guide and strength through all the 
coming years of life !" 

The husband entered, and seated himself beside his dying wife 
and sobbing child. His heart was too full for utterance ; and as 
he realized the solemn scene, the tears gathered and swept down 
his furrowed face. The manly form was buried beneath the weight 
of anguish that pressed upon the chastened soul. 

The wife turned her look to his. Her breathing was growing 
each moment fainter and more faint. 


*'I am going, my dear," she said, "but do not grieve for me. 
It's hard to part ^vith you and my dear cliildren, but God, who 
does all things well, calls me hence, and I must go." She paused 
for breath. Iler eyes drooped. For many minutes she was silent. 
Her breathing became more oppressed. The color appeared very 
faintly in the sunken cheek. She pressed her hand on her heart, 
and gasped as if struggling for breath. 

Some friends entered the room and apj)r()ached the bedside. 
''Air, air!" gasped the sufferer. Mary sprang to her feet and 
threw open the window. ''Lift — me — uj)," she feebly uttered. 

Mr. Lawrence, with the assistance of Mrs. Douglas and her sis- 
ter, Mrs. Grant, raised her from the pillow, and, supported in an 
upright position, she motioned to be removed to the large chair in 
which she" had so often sat when suff^ing from this difficulty of 
respiration. Gently they bore her and placed her in it. She 
gazed feebly up, while a half-formed smile played round her lips, 
then closed her eyes, and her head sank on her bosom. Her 
breathing became more and mt^re labored : the pulse in the fallen 
hand less and less distinct. 

"Oh, the doctor! the doctor! Pam, Maria, for Dr. Hardin. 
Oh, mother, mother!" exclaimed Mary, convulsively, as she threw 
her arms wildly around the suffering form and pressed it to her 
bosom. " Oh, mother, mother ! can't you speak to me, your child ? 
One word, just one word !" 

The husband, trembling in every nerve, stood over his dying 
wife, bathing the pallid brow. Mrs. Grant and Mrs. Douglas 
rubbed the cold extremities. 

The anguished daughter could do nothing but cling to the loved 
form of her idolized parent, and give vent to the bursting grief of 
her heart. 

'* Oh, mother ! don't you know me — your own child, your Mary? 
Oh, mother, dear mother! speak one word to me — ^just one word, 
mother. Oh ! you are not dying — you will not leave us. Mother 
— mother!" and the poor, grief-stricken girl sunk to the floor and 
clasped her mother's knees, as if, in her frenzied madness, she felt 
a power to stay life's ebbing tide. 

The dying woman opened her eyes feebly, and made an effort 
to look up. The lids drooped again, the labored breath grew 
fainter, a short, quick gasp, and the mother's life was done! 

It was but a minute — so quickly passed — it was difficult to re- 
alize that death, in ghastly form, was in their midst. When the 
dread reality burst upon them, the father >ank on the bed, si-eech- 


less with grief. Mary uttered one wild, piercing cry, and fell 
fainting to the floor. 

The physician entered. He read, in a moment, the fearful fact. 
Assisted by the servant, he placed the dead form of Mrs. Lawrence 
on the bed, and, turning to Mary, proceeded to restore her. It 
was some minutes before consciousness returned ; then, springing 
to the bedside, she threw herself on tlie cold, rigid form of her 
mother, and sobbed as if her heart would break. 

It was a sad, solemn scene. Death had come to claim his vic- 
tim, and though not without warning, it was hard to bow to his 
^stern, relentless will. Oh, how it rends the throbbing heart, to 
stand and gaze on the cold motionless form of one who but a few 
moments before was with us — whose eyes looked fondly into our 
own — whose words of love fell on our ear as whisperings from the 
upper spheres! We gaze, and fear and wonder mingle with our 
grief, and the awe-filled soul asks itself,—" Is this death ?" Ah, 
what is this strange, dread power, whose fiat none can withstand? 
And the spirit — the life that we have loved, with which we have 
walked and held sweet converse — where has it fled, ah, whither 
gone ? — and shall we be permitted again to meet it and enjoy its 

How often along our pilgrim-path are our most clierished hopes, 
like the beautiful temple before the whirlwind's wrath, dashed to 
the earth by this invincible power! We spread out on the glow- 
ing canvass of the future our life-pictures, colored in roseate tints 
of expectancy and joy, and when the scene is complete in beauty, 
and happiness alone is breathed by every form ^nd feature, then 
Death comes, and with one bold master-stroke, dashes his pencil, 
dyed in darkness, over the picture, and with bowed head and break- 
ing heart we stand as in a maze, and gaze on the wrecked loveli- 
ness over which despair sits brooding. Ah, what can console the 
crushed soul under its poignant sorrow ? what impart light to it 
amid its rayless gloom ? Naught, naught, save that promise, all 
radiant with the beams of God's infinite mercy, which for eighteen 
hundred years of wailing and of gloom has come in tones of heav- 
enly tenderness to the hopeless spirit — " I am the Resurrection 
and the Life." 

Even when we weep over the grave of buried love, and in all 
the misgiving of. our contracted vision we ask, with the patriarch 
of old, "If a man die, can he live again?" there comes swelling 
up in tones of celestial harmony the response, "I am the Resur- 


rection and the Life," and our feeble faith "lifts a wing with the 
angels," and anchors itself hard by the throne of God. 

The night wore by. I will not attempt to depict the grief of 
the stricken husband and orphaned daughter. 

Morning came. In the still, silent chamber, hung with the 
drapery of death, the lifeless form lay robed in the habiliments of 
the grave. Beside the open coffin the weeping daughter knelt 
alone with the dead. Through streams of blinding tears she 
gazed on the pule, rigid face, until the accumulated anguish of 
her soul burst forth in convulsive gasps. She bowed herself, and 
in the bitterness of her soul wept until exhausted, prostrated — 
her grief found vent only in sad, low moans. Rising, she 
smoothed the marble brow, placed a white rose on the pulseless 
bosom, then kissing and kissing again the icy lips, she took one 
long, lingering look, and turned away to weep. 

It was the daughter's farewell to the dead mother. Never 
again did she behold the sleeping form. 

Evening came. Slowly the long procession of mourners mov^ed 
through the streets, wending its way to the "City of the Dead." 

" Dust to dust, ashes to ashes," said the man of God, as the 
body was lowered into its narrow house. Then came the rattling 
of the clods on the coffin-lid. A few minutes of breathless 
silence, while the hearts of the spectators commune with death,' 
and the low tones of the minister rise in subdued notes to the 
throne of God for mercy on the dying congregation, which soon, 
one by one, must turn aside from life and come and take up their 
abode in the silent chamber of the grave. 

To their darkened home the father and daughter return. Oh, 
how sadly desolate] How fearfully void! The world, too, is 
dark, the heavens hung with gloom. Light, light! Ah, it is no- 
where to be seen. To the chambers of the soul enshrouded in 
despair, hope comes not ; nor is there a whispering of joy in all 
the music of the earth. Poor, oppressed mourners I naught save 
the voice of the Gospel can carry consolation and peace to your 
stricken bosoms. 



It were a work of supererogation to dwell leDgthily on the 
campaign into Kentucky. Every reader is familiar with its most 
trivial incidents. The battles of Big Hill and Richmond, in 
which our men drove the flying foe before tliem with most fearful 
slaugliter — the successful occupation of central Kentucky by 
General Kirby Smith's army — the victorious assault on the Fed- 
eral garrison at Mumfordsville by a portion of General Bragg's 
forces — the race between Bragg and Buell for Louisville, and the 
great excitement of both parties in Kentucky consequent on the 
relative movements of these two generals — the great rush of Fed- 
eral troops into the State to oppose and drive out the Southern 
army — the bloody battle of Perryville — the retreat of the Confed- 
erates — all these stirring circumstances of war are as household 
Words to every Southern heart. 

The invasion of Kentucky was a bold, a daring movement. 
Could it have been made earlier, before the hosts of Lincoln 
troops were ready for the battle-field, it doubtless would have, 
proved more of a success than it did. As it was, the forces tliat 
were sent against the Southern army, although not disciplined, 
were well armed, and overwhelming in numbers. The movement 
of the Confederates through the State was so rapid, as to make it 
an impossibility that large numbers of recruits should join tlieir 
ranks; and, while in this respect the campaign must be regarded 
as a failure, the want of success should be attributed to the un- 
ffivorableness of the circumstances, and not to the lack of devotion 
on the part of a large proportion of Kentuckians to the South.ern 

Kentucky is to-day, if her intelligence and interest were allowed 
to speak out boldly, Southern, truly Southern. She has been 
duped, deceived, enslaved ; but, seeing the suicidal folly of her 
former course, she is now beginning to awake to a true sense of 
her position and her rights ; and she will yet, let us hope, stand 


nobly forth in tlefence of tlio<e pfreat principles for which the 
South has earnestly and victoriously combated. 

The campaijin has been pronounced a failure, a sad, sad faux 
pas, and the commanding general has been sorely censured for 
want of ability and oversight of i)oints which would have insured 
tu tlie Confederate arms a glorious victory. Were the design of 
the invasion the permanent occuj)ation of the State by General 
Bragg's army, then, indeed, did the movement most sadly mis- 

If the object was to withdraw the Federal forces from their 
threatening position to north Alabama, relieve eastern Tennessee, 
obtain a supply of provisions and clothing for the men, and give 
the Southern sentiment of the State an opportunity to enlist under 
the Southern flag, then it was not a failure, even though the ex- 
pectations of the friends of the South might not have been fully 
realized in any of these particulars. 

General Buell was compelled to withdraw his forces from south- 
ern Tennessee to northern Kentucky. The Federals, under General 
Morgan, found themselves forced to abandon Cumberland Gap, and 
thus was this important point regained to us. Provisions and 
clothing, to a large extent, were secured, and if recruits did not 
swell the ranks of the Confederates to meet even our most modest 
hopes, we must consider all the circumstances, and also remember 
that General Bragg was clothed with no power of conscription 
whereby to enlarge his forces to the desired maximum. 

That expectations were not met, none can deny. But were not 
our hopes the offspring of desire, rather than of sound judgment? 
And even if all was not accomplished that might reasonably have 
been looked for, let us not censure where we do not fully under- 
stayed. Failure does not always argue a want of capacity — and 
certainly not of patriotism. The contingencies of war are so man}-, 
and so frequently have the best plans of the best generals been de- 
feated by fortuitous circumstances, that every reasonable mind 
must admit that " the battle is not always to the strong," but that 
the hand of the Lord of Hosts guides to results. 

The bridal party, after having passed a joyous week at Bards- 
town and vicinity, returned to the city. In that short time Evan- 
geline Lenoir had become the affianced-of Edward Lasley, a dash- 
ing young man of twenty-four, who, having been left possessor of 
a large, fortune just as he had attained his majority, had given 
himself up to the indulgence of every whim and caprice tbat his 
versatile nature could suggest. His father had died when Edward 


was but twelve years of age. His mother, whose wedded life had 
not been happy, owing to the acerbity of her husband's temper 
and his continued neglect of her comfort, had never married again, 
but with the devotion of a tender, loving parent, had given her 
whole time to the development of her son, devoting herself with 
the most solicitous care to the cultivation of- such traits as her 
judgment approved, and to the suppression of those characteristics 
the indulgence of which she felt must lead hira to ruin. But de- 
spite her vigilant watchfulness, the son had grown up hot-headed, 
self-willed, and given to self-indulgence. In his early childhood 
he had manifested this wayward disposition, and shown sad proof 
at an early age that he had inherited the sporting character of his 
father. When at school, he was always the leader in all disputes 
and combats — the agonistarch of the neighborhood. Handsome, 
fascinating, wlien he desired to be, he had won the admiration of 
Evangeline, who, with all the ardor of her French nature, had 
been captivated by the handsome face, exquisite moustache, and 
easy neglige air of the young man ; who, in turn, had yielded to the 
charms of personal beauty, and the magnetic power of her natural 
vivacity and grace, so strikingly in contrast with the cold, dead 
manner of the maiden aunt, who was now the only near relative 
he had. The aunt, with whom he lived, was about sixteen years 
his senior, fastidious, imperious, captious. Possessed of ample 
means. Miss Dorcas Lasley led a life of unhappy indolence and ca- 
pricious gratification, spending half her time plucking the gray 
hairs from her head, and the other half in putting them in, by 
fretting over every thing that came within her purview. 

When she heard that ''Edward," as she always called her neph- 
ew, was devoting his attentions to Miss Lenoir, she fell into a tow- 
ering passion, declaring that a boy of his age was not capable of 
judging for himself, and had better be thinking about doing some- 
thing for himself in the world. Miss Dorcas, in a monetary view, 
was the antipode of her deceased brother and his son. Frugal 
almost to parsimoniousness, she had added each year to the com- 
fortable estate left her by her father, until she had grown to be 
one of the wealthy inhabitants of the neighborhood. 

The bride had returned to spend the fall and winter with her 
mother. This Mr, Spalding had promised the doating parents 
when they consented to the marriage of their daugliter. He had 
decided to engage in business in the city, and the arrangement was 
a very happy one to all parties. 

Two weeks had passed since the marriage — about the same 


length of time since tiie death of Mrs. Lawrence. During that in- 
terval, great changes had been made in the i)()sition of tlie Con- 
federate forces in Tennessee. The jtlan which had been adopted 
by the genenils as wisest and best for the repossession of that 
State by the Southern forces, and the occupation of Kentucky, it 
])ossible, was hastening to a devtdopment. 

The family of Mr. K., seated around the fire, were discussing liio 
l)rospects of the fall campaign, when Mary Lawrence entered, clad 
in deep mourning, her face expressive of the greatest excitement. 
Without waiting to bid them good-evening, she exclaimed, breath- 
less with agitation, " Have you heard the news — the glorious news ? 
General Bragg is coming into Kentucky ; going to march directly 
for Louisville ! General Kirby Smith is already in the State, as 
you know, and he has whipped the Federals completely near Rich- 
mond, and they are now flying before him as fiist as they can run. 
General Bill Nelson is killed, too, the report says, and the whole 
army is literally cut to pieces. The Union men in the city are 
running to and fro, like so many madmen, scared to death for fear 
the Confederates will march right down on Louisville, and take it 
before they can get troojjs across the river to protect it. I never, 
in all my life, saw such a commotion ; the whole town is frantic. 
They are moving every thing they regard valuable across the river, 
and they are really making preparations to surrender the city, I 

Exhausted, the young girl sank on the sofa beside her. Mrs. R. 
looked up in amazement, while Mr. Spalding sprang to his feet 
as if electrified. The young bride remained transfixed to her seat, 
her face turned with the most earnest look towards her friend, 
and filled with an expression of wonder: she was the first to 
speak — 

"Oh! Mary, Mary! can all this be true ? I fear it is too good 
to be believed. Have you not been deceived ? The city is always 
so full of rumors that prove so false when you test them ; and I 
fear this is like most of its predecessors." 

" True, Lu ; of course it is. If you could only be in the city for 
an hour, you would not be disposed to doubt it !" 

''What is the authority. Miss Lawrence? did you understand?" 
asked Mr. Spalding, eagerly. 

''Telegraphic dispatches, sir, from Lexington — dispatclies which 
have been received to-day at headquarters, and which Union men, 
in their great consternation, could not conceal." 

" Ob, that it may be true !" exclaimed the young bride, clasping 


her hands energetically. "■Then shall we once again see our 

"Oh, you need not fear, Lu ; it is certainly so. The whole 
town is filled with the intelligence. All the Union men believe it. 
It has c<jme by telegraph, and will be in to-morrow's papers. You 
never saw such a stir in all your life. People are thronging the 
streets, and it looks as if everybody were beside themselves. Pa 
came rushing in after dinner, his eyes starting from his head, and 
he was scarcely able to speak. We were all terribly alarmed at 
his appearance, and could not imagine what was the matter, and 
it was some time before he was- composed enough to tell us. As 
soon as I understood the story, I called the carriage, and Sunday 
evening as it is, I drove out here as fast as I could to tell you the 
good news; and now you are disposed to discredit my whole 
story. ■ Isn't that too bad!" 

" Oh ! no, Mary, I would not doubt, but rather fear to beheve 
lest we be sorely disappointed, as we have so often been before." 

" Call your father, daughter, and let him hear the glad tidings. 
He is asleep in the back chamber. Take off your hat, Mary. Did 
you go to church to-day ? Mr. R. was not very well, and we did 
not go in. Really, Mr. McKee is such a coercionisti cannot enjoy 
his sermons, and I find that we allow the least thing to kee[) us at 

"I was out this morning, Mrs, R., but did not hear Mr. McKee. 
I go to the Baptist church. Their minister preaches the gospel, 
and is a good Southern man, though no politician." 

"Oh! father, father!" cried out Lu, thumping against the 
chamber door, where her father was sleeping. "Do get up in a 
minute, and come and hear the good news. The Southerners are 
all coming into Kentucky — Bragg, Morgan, Charley, all, going to 
take Louisville and hold the State." 

The old gentleman sprang from his bed, aroused more by his 
daughter's wild manner than her message. 

" Ct>me, father, come to the parlor ; Mary Lawrence is just out 
from the city — come on purpose to tell us all about it. There is 
no doubt of it — all the Union men believe it, and are scared out of 
their wits. Mary says they are dashing about the streets like 
crazy people." 

" And what is the news, Lu ?" asked the old man, rubbing his 
eyes to get them fairly open. 

. " Oh ! come, father, and let Mary tell you herself;" and Lu took 
his hand and led him along the darkened hall into the sitting-room. 


'•How do you do, Mary?" said the old man, smiling, and ex- 
tending his hand. '*■ What is all this wonderful news Lu has been 
trying to tell me about Bragg and Morgan coming into Kentucky, 
and taking Louisville ?" 

*' Oh ! Mr, R., it is all so, sir. Everybody believes it." 

'^ Believes what, Mary?" asked the old gentleman, smiling at his 
young friend's eager manner. 

*• Why, that General Smith has whipped the Lincolnites all to 
pieces at Richmond— that General Bill Nelson was killed in the 
fight,^aud Colonel Jacobs either killed or seriously wounded— that 
the Yankees are retreating us fast as they can to Louisville, and 
the Confederates have Lexington by this time. And General 
Bragg is coming into the State at the head of a powerful army, and 
the Southerners are going to hold Kentucky. It is true, Mr. R , 
that,General Kirby Smith has routed the Federals at Big Hill near 
Richmond, and is marching victoriously upon Lexington. This 
part of the story will admit of no doubt. Pa says all the Union 
men acknowledge it, and are half wild lest he should move on and 
take possession of Louisville before they can make any preparation 
for defence. 

"And do you think all this can be relied upon?" asked the old 
man, as much excited as any of the party. 

"Oh 1 there is no doubt of ir, sir. Pa had it from the most au- 
thentfc source. You know, Mr. R., pa is not a very excitable 
man, and by no means credulous. He has so often been disap- 
pointed about the Confederates coming to Louisville, that he is 
now afraid to believe any thing in our favor. But he thinks every 
word of this is true ; and you would too, Mr. R., if you could be 
in town half an hour and see the craziness of the Unionists. They 
are running hither and thither half the time, not knowing what 
they are about; but all agree in saying that their forces have been 
butchered— that is the term they use— at Big Hill and Richmond." 

"And, what is better than all," further interposed Lilly, who, 
np to this time, had been a silent but highly interested listener, 
"Morgan will be here and bring all our friends with him. Oh, 
won't that be a joyous time ! I am sure I shall be too happy. I 
am going right to work to-morrow morning to prepare for them. 
All the peaches, and preserves, and jellies that we kept so long 
last fall, waiting for Buckner's men to come, are nearly gone. I 
must get to work and bake dozens of big cakes, and make all the 
nice things I can think of, for brother Charley and his friends. 
Won't you stay and help me, Miss Mary ?" and Lilly sat down 


beside her visitor and grasped her hand imploringly. The ear- 
nestness of her soul spoke out in lier large gray eyes, and happy 
anticipation from every lineament of her face. 

" Can't stay to-nigli*, Lilly, but I will come out again to-mor- 
row, and we will then bake the cakes. Pa will look for me to 
return. He is lonely now," and a sad look stole over Mary's face 
as she thought of her great bereavement. 

" And then suppose, girls, the boys do not come ? You will 
have baked your cakes in vain." 

"Oh, but they will come, Mr. R. And if they don't— but I 
will not allow myself to think they will not. Lu, don't you intend 
to make some preparation for them ? and don't you, Mrs. R. ?" 

"Oh, indeed I will, Mary, if there is the least prospect of their 
getting here. I shall prepare every thing good I can think of," 
responded Mrs. R., with animation. She was quite, as enthi»sias- 
tic as the girls, and ready for any good work. 

"Indeed, Lulu, I think you and Miss Mary and Lilly had bet- 
ter prepare lint and bandages for the wounded. They cannot 
take Louisville without a severe battle, and many a-^poor fellow 
must fall before we can welcome our friends back to their homes 
again." i 

" That is too true, Mr. Spalding," responded Mary, thought- 
fully, "and I shall not forget your suggestion. Oh, my heart 
bleeds, when I think that perhaps friends may fall in the strife. 
Oh, that this horrid war could end without any further blood- 
shed ! But I must leave, it is growing late, Lilly. Get your hat 
and ride in with me. Your father can call for you to-morrow — 
can't you, Mr. R. ?" 

"I will bring you out after we receive the morning news." 

" Can't you remain with us tonight, Mary?" 

" Ko, thank you, Mrs. R, ; pa made me promise to be back to- 
night. He wants the carriage early in the morning for some pur- 
pose. I only came out to tell you the good news. I knew you 
would enjoy it so much. Mr. McKee would be almost tempted 
to church me, if he knew that I had been engaged in such 'unholy 
business.' Don't you think he would ? Come, Lilly, where is your 
hat ? We have just time to drive to the city before dark." 

Bidding the friends good-evening, the two girls entered the car- 
riage and drove rapidly to the city. 




Lmmeuiatkly after tlie death of his wife, Mr. Lawrence gave 
ui» his establishment. Bereaved, saddened, he could no longer 
remain amid the scenes of his former joy and happiness, now so 
enveloped in gloom. He took boarding for himself and daughter 
with a friend, a distant relative of his, who had been left a widow 
about two years before. Uer only child was a boy of seventeen, 
and Mary finding but little companionship in the house, spent as 
much of her time as her duty to her father would allow with her 
friend Lu, who, though married, yet found a large place in her 
heart for the companion of her childhood. They already regarded 
each other as sisters, and Mary found a solace for her grief in un- 
bosoming lier sorrows and anticipations to one who could so 
readily sympathize with her. 

Mr. Lawrence's time was very much occupied in settling up his 
business, preparatory to moving South. As soon as it was known 
in Louisville that the Confederate forces, under General Smith, 
were assuredly moving into Kentucky, he determined, in the 
event they had to leave the State, to go out with them, and for 
this purpose he was daily making arrangements for a speedy de- 
parture from the city. 

When Mary reached his room, she found him sitting in his old 
arm-chair before the fire, his head resting on his hand, and ab- 
sorbed in thought. She was pained at the expression of his face, 
for in addition to its usual sadness, it wore a look of anxiety and 

She approaclied him, and throwing her arms about his neck, 
kissed him, and in a sweet, persuasive voice endeavored to win 
l)im from his sorrow. He replied tenderly to her caresses, and as 
he gazed upon her, the large tears started to his eyes and silently 
coursed down his cheeks. She wiped them away, and inquired 
the cause. 

Seating her on his knee, and throwing his arm around her, he 
proceeded to- unfold to her his plans. 

"I have been thinking, daughter, while you were out, that now 



is my opportunity for throwing otf tliis galling slavery, by going 
into Confederate lines and remaining there." 

Mary looked up astonished. 

•' Why, father, why need you leave Louisville ? The Southern- 
ers will certainly take possession of this place. Tiiere is no doubt 
about it, pa. Just wait a little while, and you will see there will 
be no need for you to seek Confederate protection — it will come 
to you." 

" We cannot now know any thing with certainty respecting the 
permanent occupation of our State by the Coufederate^, my 
daughter, althougii every thing now looks so promising. They 
may be able to hold it, and they may not. If they remain, it will 
be an easy matter for me to return to Louisville; if they do not, 1 
shall be safe in leaving." - 

Mary looked up earnestly into his face. She did not fully com- 
prehend his meaning. She waited a moment, hoping her father 
would explain himself. Jiendiug a sad look upon his daughter, 
Mr. Lawrence resumed : 

" The only obstacle in the way, Mary, is leaving you." 

*' Leaving me, pa!", she exclaimed, with surprise. "You 
surely wouldn't go and leave me behind? What would I do with- 
out you?" 

The father scarcely knew how to reply. There were difficulties 
in either case, which he hardly knew how to meet. After think- 
ing for some moments, during which time Mary gazed beseechingly 
upon him, he said : 

"If I stay h^'e, my daughter, I may be arrested at any moment, 
and sent to prison. If I go, I shall be free from this dreadful ap- 
prehension. If the Confederates remain in Kentucky, I can return 
to you again ; if not, I can send for you at any time. You will be 
safe here among your friends, in any event, and I may have an 
opportunity to send for you if the Confederates are driven back. 
For me to remain longer is to endanger my liberty. And as my 
preparations are nearly completed, I feel I had better set ou't the 
first suitable opportunity." 

" You are right, pa," said Mary, throwing her arms about her 
father. " I would rather you were safe in the Confederacy, than 
to have you remain here, all the time in fear. And then, as you 
say, they may arrest you and put you in prison, as they did last 
summer, when Morgan was here, and perhaps they would not re- 
lease you in years to come. But, pa, why can't I go with you ? 
You know I'm not afraid of danger." 

OF MORGAN AND 1J16 MhN. 267 

"But, Mary, you had better wait until I can get through, and 
secure a home for you. I bhaii liave to go clandestinely ; tliey 
would not grant nie u pass, and 1 may have to walk half the way 
to Lexington. The roads are thronged, 1 suppose, with the Fed- 
erals retreating upon Louisville." 

" J)Ut when will you go, pa?'' 

'^ To-morrow evening, if 1 get all arrangements made. I will 
drive out to pr. Foree's, aud send the carriage back, dei)ending 
ou their kindness to convey me beyond danger. It is best that 1 
should go, Mary," added the father, as he saw the flushing face of 
his child, and readily understood the mighty effort it required 
for her to suppress her tears. '• You understand it all, my 

Mary buried her head without speaking. Her judgment ap- 
proved her father's suggestion — her feelings revolted against it. 

''And you will send for me just as soon as you determine what 
is best to be done — won't you, pa?" she said, as cheerfully as she 

"Yes, my child; or come after you myself, if circumstances 
will allow." 

"1 must go to Lilly, now; I left her down stairs, with cousin 
Pauline. To-morrow, pa, I will arrange your clothes;" and kiss- 
ing her father again, she arose from his knee, and went dowu 
stairs in search of her friend. 

Exhausted from the excitement of the day, Mary sought her 
room at an early hour. After conversing for some time on the 
prospects before thenj, the two girls retired to bed. Lilly, young 
and free from all care, soon fell asleep ; but Mary, to whom the 
last year had taught many a sad lesson of anxiety and thought, 
lay, her mind distracted with doubt and apprehension, and many 
a slowly measured hour wore by before she could calm herself to 
sleep. She awoke with the early morning light from her unre- 
freshing slumbers, and, making a hasty toilet, applied herself to 
preparations for her father's departure. It was a heavy task for 
her poor breaking heart to accomplish, but amid her dark trial 
she had one consoling thought which she constantly whispered to 
herself: I shall soon get within Confederate lines, and then 1 
shall see Charley and my brother ! 

" I cannot go with you this morning, Lilly, but I will be out 
late this afternoon or to-morrow. Meanwhile, you and Lu must 
begin your preparations. You see what Prentice says; and more- 
over, the whole Legislature from Frankfort reached here a few 


minutes ago, fleeing in liot liaste from tlie Confederate forces, 
who, it is said, are now in possession of Lexington." 

" Be sure to come tliis evening, Mary; we sliall look for you." 

"Lu said I mu^t not fail to bring you out this morning, Miss 
Mary," said Mr. Spalding, rising to meet them as they entered 
the parlor. " She is expecting you, and so is Mrs. R. They will 
be greatly disappointed if I fail to bring you. Come, get your 
hat; I cannot be denied." 

'•Thank you, Mr. Spalding; it is impossible for me to go out 
now. I have an engagement that will keep me in the city until 
late this evening. If I am well, I will drive out about sundown ; 
but, should I fail to do so, look for me to-morrow. Love to all." 

'^ To-night, Mary, we shall expect you," and Lilly kissed her 
friend and sprang into the carriage. 

"Don't let me look in vain, Miss Mary," said Mr. Spalding, 
shaking the delicate hand, "Lu is never so happy as when you 
are with us." 

" Ah ! Lu needs me not now, Mr. Spalding, to make her happy. 
You have stolen her from me, and I am left alone." 

"Soon to be disposed of in the same way, I judge, if the Con- 
federates reach Louisville," said Mr. Spalding, mischievously, as he 
seated himself beside Lilly. 

Mary blushed : the two, bidding her adieu, drove off. 

Mary accompanied her father to make a last visit to the grave 
of the mother, and place there some tokens of remembrance. 
Above the hallowed mound the two knelt and silently wept. Their 
grief was too sacred for words. The heart alone could indite 
voiceless petitions to the throne of the unseen Father for guidance 
and consolation. Ah ! what pen can describe, what pencil por- 
tray the grief of the crushed heart as it bows over the grave ol 
buried love ? A mourner on the waste of time, the sad soul wanders, 
and sees no promise of hope, save in the goal which death offers. 

Placing the mementoes of love on the newly made grave, the 
father and diiughter arose and silently wended their way bj^ck to 
the carriage. 

Moments there are in the life of every individual, when the 
heart, communing with itself, holds its joy or grief too holy to 
mention even to the dearest bosom friend. We would not clothe 
our emotions in words to whisper even to ourselves. 

Evening came. Arrangements were completed : Mr. Lawrence 
was ready to depart. 


"Good-by, my child! God bless you and keep you from all 
harm," he said, in broken accents, as he pressed Mary to his bosom 
and kissed her tear-bathed cheek. Tiie sobbing girl clung to her 
father in silent grief. Oh, how desolate she felt as she stood there 
leaning against the i)illar of the front portico, watching the car- 
riage bear away her loved parent — her last friend ! As it disap- 
peared fronriier view, she burst into a fresh paroxysm of tears, 
and turned to seek her chamber, that she might weep there alone 
free from the gaze of human eyes. 

There is a luxurious relief in tears, when the stricken soul can 
weep its fulness of sorrow away unmolested by prying curiosity, 
or cold, hollow words of sympathy. What can others understand 
of our grief? Even though another has felt what we now feel^ has 
not time measurably healed the anguish? The remembrance may 
remain — the poignancy is gone. 

And then, how sad a thing it is to feel ourselves alone in this 
hollow world! Alone! How like a death-knell falls this hollow 
word on the isolated heart ! To crowd our sympathies, loves, 
joys, sorrows, expectations, hopes, into our own bosoms, there to 
remain — for we are alone on the earth — what oppressive anguish ! 
How the poor burdened soul feels like bursting as it vainly seeks 
relief in tears and sighs ! We must have sympathy. Life without 
friendship is but a miserable groping mid the dark labyrinths of 
passion and despair. The nature with which God has endowed 
us requires that heart commune with heart; and the outer life can 
as well exist without its legitimate nourishment, as the inner lite 
without sympathy and love. Asceticism is an anomaly — a lusus 
naturce — the contemplation of which should till every well-poised 
mind with horror. 

Mary Lawrence, as she sat weeping in her chamber, felt the need 
of some congenial spirit to share with her the grief that wrapt her 
soul. Instinctively her thoughts turned to the friend of her child- 
hood.* Bathing her face so as to remove the traces of her bitter 
tears and cool her fevered brow, she threw on her hat and mantle, 
and calling the carriage, drove out to Mr. R.'a. 

"Why, Mary dear! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed 
Ln, as she threw her arms about the young girl and kissed her. 
" You look as if you had been weeping for hours. No bad news I 
hope. Do tell me, have you heard any bad intelligence?" 

Her voice was tremulous, and she grew ashen pale as she looked 
upon Mary, who had burst into a flood of tears. 


" Come into mother's room," she said, as, gently taking her 
hand, she led her along the hall to the family-room. 

'' Wli}', Mary, — Lu, — what is the matter with the girls?" said 
Mrs. R., as she sprang from her seat, and clasping Mary in her 
arms, partly bore her to a rocking-chair which stood beside the 
window, near the fire. 

The mother looked inquiringly at her daughter. Mrs. Spalding 
shook her head. 

" Oh, Mary, do tell me, ray child, why you weep ! Have you 
heard any bad news from the army ? Are any of our friends sick 
or dead?" 

Suppressing her emotion as well as she could, the sobbing girl 
ejaculated in broken sentences : 

"Xo — no — Mrs. R., not that. Pa has gone — gone — to the 

"Your father gone to the army, Mary I" exclaimed Mrs. R. and 
her daughter at the same moment, their voice and manner betray- 
ing the greatest surprise. 

"Yes, gone — gone — left this morning for Lexington." 

" To join General Smith ? Why, how can he get there, child ?" 

Mrs. R.. with the gentleness of a mother, removed Mary's hat 
and mantle, and by kind words endeavored to soothe her. 

After a few moments, she sufficiently recovered from her emo- 
tion to tell Mrs. R. the sad tale of her sorrow. 

The friends were greatly surprised to hear of Mr. Lawrence's 
sudden departure, but when the reasons were given, his course ap- 
peared one of wisdom. 

Mr. R. had returned from the city and brought with him the 
Bulletin and the Evening Xeics. The latest telegrams were filled 
with the success of the Confederates, their advance towards Louis- 
ville and Cincinnati, and the consequent panic and dismay of Union 
sympathizers and Yankee soldiery. 

It was asserted by Prentice, as a fact incontestable, that General 
Bragg was marching northward, with the avowed design of tak- 
ing permanent possession of Kentucky ; also, that Colonel John H. 
Morgan, at the head of a large cavalry force, had been dispatched 
to intercept the Federal General Morgan, in his retreat from Cum- 
berland Gap. The tone of the editorials was gloomy enough. 
Unionists were quaking with alarm. The entire State was threat- 
ened, a part of it already in the possession of the Confederates, 
who were daily extending their lines, and daily receiving acces- 
sions to their ranks. 


"Oh ! do you think, Mr. Spalding, that we shall be able to hold 
Kentucky?" said Mary, as she threw aside the paper, and leaned 
earnestly forward to catch his reply. " Old Prentice is evidently 
alarmed, and Ilarney too. I wonder why they didn't send Col- 
onel Morgan to take Louisville? I am afraid General Smith will 
wait until the Lincolnites are so strong here it will be difficult to 
do. They are coming in every day, and I see it is stated in nie 
^eics that General Nelson will take command here in a few days. 
I thought he was severely wounded V 

"And so he was, Miss Mary, but it has been two weeks, you 
know, since the battle, and he has measurably recovered." 

"Mr. R., do you think the Southerners will hold Kentucky?" 

" Indeed, I cannot tell, Mary. That will depend greatly, yes, 
entirely, on General Bragg. It is impossible for General Smith to 
do so without assistance. There is a great contrariety of opinion 
respecting Bragg's intentions; some believing that he designs to 
remain here thn)Ugh the winter — others that he only wishes to 
force Buell from Tennessee, and regain Cumberland Gap, by for- 
cing General Morgan to abandon it. I confess, from the confused 
and contradictory statements of our papers, I am unable to form 
any just decision. No one can decide fully what will be the end 
of this mighty movement. "We can but hope that it may prove 
eminently successful ; but there are two to play the game, and 
some of the Unionists are sanguine that the whole thing will prove 
a failure." 

" On what do they base their hopes, Mr. R. ?" asked his wife. 

"On their numbers, and the hope that Buell, who is moving 
rapidly on Louisville, will reach here before Bragg. In which 
event, they feel confident that with nis own army, combined with 
the reinforcements that they can bring to this point from Indiana, 
Illinois, and Ohio, he will soon drive the Confederates South 

"I hope the Confederates will not attempt to come to Louisville 
now," interposed Mr. Spalding. 

" Oh ! do not say so. Why do you wish this ?" exclaimed Mrs. 
Spalding and Mary. 

"For the<e reasons," replied Mr. Spalding. "It would not be 
worth the trouble and loss of life, even if they should take it. 
Every tiling of value has been removed beyond the river. They 
would only get some shoes and clothing which the Southern ele- 
ment now holds, and this they will get anyhow, if they but hold 
central Kentucky. And, moreover, if they should take the city. 


they could not hold it against the gunboats and the artillery the 
enemy could bring to bear against it from the opposite side of the 

"But would the Yankees shell it, Mr. Spalding, do you think? 
Is there not too much Union capital here for that?" 

"But, even admitting, Mr. R., that this would not be done, it 
•wmild certainly be too far north for a base of the Confederates. 
They should be nearer the centre of the State. Remember, the 
Cujuberland and Tennessee rivers are in the hands of the enemy." 

"That is very true, sir ; and I suppose if the Confederates leave 
the State, they would go out by way of Cumberland Gap?" 

" Undoubtedly so. There is no other safe exit for them. And 
your father has gone to Lexington, Mary ? I was astonished 
when Mr. Sparke told me of it. What was his idea for leaving?" 

"To get into Dixie, Mr. R.," replied Mary, choking down the 
tears that were ready to overflow at the mere mention of her 
father's name. "It has been his intention for some time to go 
South as soon as he could ; and regarding this as a fine opportu- 
nity to got witiiin Confederate boundary, he determined to avail 
himself of it, fearing if he should delay he might have difficulty, 
even if he succeeded at all, and that if he remained he would be 

" A very wise decision, I think. And he has left you to us, I 
hope, Mary ?" 

" Oh ! I am going through, too, just as soon as pa finds out what 
the Southerners are going to do." 

"But you will stay with us, Mary, until you do go through?" 
said Lilly, beseechingly. 

" Oh yes, Lilly, I will stay with you a great deal. This is more 
like home to me now than any other spot on earth. You know 
I never go to my old home now that another owns it." 

Ten o'clock came. The family retired. Lilly and Mary re- 
mained in the sitting-room, as girls are wont to do, after the others 
had left, to talk over their own particular plans. 

" Oh, Mary, how I wish I could go through to Lexington with 
you! I am almost crazy to see brother Charley. I wonder if pa 
will let me go ? You know he consented for sister Lu to go to 
Camp Chase." 

""We can ask him, Lilly. I hope he will, I should be so glad 
id have you go with me." 

"But how will we get back, Mary, if the Soutlierners liave to 
leave Kentuckv?" 


'•Oh, Lilly, I am going out with them. Didn't you know that? 
We are going South to live." 

" Aiul what would I do?" 

'Can't you go, too? A winter South would be fine for your 
health," rei>lied her friend, pleasantly. " Or, Lilly, if you can't 
go South, you could remain in Lexington or Georgetown until ihe 
railroad communication is established, and then return to the 

" That I could. And I'll ask pa to-morrow to let me go. Sis- 
ter Lu will be here to keep mother company, and I shan't go to 
school any more this fall. I expect, Mary, Evangeline Lenoir 
would be glad to go with us. You know her sweetheart, Hany 
Roberts, is with John Morgan ?" 

" Oh, my dear girl, you are mistaken. Ilarry used to be Evan- 
geline's sweetheart, but she has proved false to him. Don't you 
know she is engaged to Edward Lasley, of Bardstown ?" 

"Oh, I don't believe that, Mary. I have heard it. But, surely 
she would never think of giving up such a lover as Harry Roberts 
for young Lasley. Lasley has nothing to recommend him but his 
line appearance and his fortune, while Harry is noble, true, brave, 
one of the finest young men in all this city. 

" But Evangeline is assuredly engaged to Ed. Lasley. I know 
it, and the}- are to be married the IGth of next month. She wished 
me to be bridemaid ; but you know, even if I were going to 
remain here, I could not accept her invitation. I would not change 
my dress to be married myself." 

" Oh, is it possible ! How shameful in Evangeline to treat Harry 
so. He is one of the noblest young men in the world. She may 
live to repent her folly. Ed. Lasley is by no means steady in his 

" But lie has money. Evangeline has none. And, moreover, 
she is fickle." 

''Her aunt is wealthy, Mary, and has no children. Of course 
slie will inherit that fortune. She need not marry for money." 

" Oh, she is^so notional and inconsistent by nature. And what 
a pity, too ; she is so beautiful, so generous and kind. It will be 
a sad blow to Poor Harry, when he hears it, foe he idolizes her, and 
cannot see that she has a defect. Poor fellow ! it is hard. Biit 
then, perhaps she would not make him happy, and it may be for 
the best." 

" Oh, if she were married, I am sure she and Harry would be 
happy, she is so afi*ectionate. x\nd she loves him, 1 know." 


Just then a loud knock was lieard at the front door. 

" What can that mean, Lilly ?" said Mary, starting up with fright. 

The two girls stared at each other in breathless silence, their 
hearts beating audi hi}'. 

'^ Perhaps it is some drunken Lincolnite," whispered Lilly, aa 
sha moved close up beside Mary, and grasped her arm. 

" Perhaps we were mistaken, Lilly. It might have been some 
other noise. But didn't it sound very much like a rap at the 

" Indeed it did ; but it might have been some of tlie servants hi 
the kitchen." 

The two girls stood breathless for a moment. Rap, rap, rap, 
went the door again, louder than before. 

The aifrighted girls hesitated no longer, but, seizing the lamp, 
hastened through the hall into Mrs. R.'s sleeping-room. 

" Father, father," said Lilly, in a whisper, at the same time 
shaking her father with all her power ; " father, there is somebody 
at the front door — we have heard them knock twice," 

" Oh, you must be mistaken, my daughter, no one could come 
here without arousing the dogs. Have they been barking ?" 

"No, sir, I have not heard them." 

" Well, then, you are mistaken, daughter. Go to bed. It's too 
late for you and Mary to be up," and Mr. R. turned over to com- 
pose himself again to sleep. 

" There it is again, father. Don't you hear it ?" 

The old gentleman sprang from his bed, and hastening to the 
window, called out in a stentorian voice : " Whose there, and what 
do you want at this hour of the night ?" 

The two girls stood trembling with fear, lest a bullet from some 
Lincoln gun should speed its way into the room. 

"Be still, girls ; let's hear what the man says," whispered Mrs. 
R., as her husband threw open the shutters. 

" Who are you?" repeated the old gentleman, as the visitor, 
forsaking the porch, approached and stood under the window. 

"A Southern soldier — one of Morgan's men," was the answer. 

"Charley — Charley!" shrieked Lilly, and rushed to the win- 
dow. Her father caught her and drew her back. "Charley!" 
slie exclaimed, "is that you, my brother — my brother?" 

"It is not your brother, but I bring news from him." 

" And where is he — oh, tell me, is my brother dead ?" 

" Be still, my daughter," said Mrs. R., as she drew the pale and 
trembling girl from the open casement. 


Mr. R., li.'iving prepared liiinself, went out, light in haiul, to ask 
the soldier in. 

" I have but a fow minutes to remain, sir. I must be off again 
to-night, or the Yankees may catch me," responded the young 
man to Mr. R.'s invitation to enter. 

• " But you will have time to come in and warm yourself, and 
take a hasty meal. It is several liours to day yet. Come in, sir; 
come in." 

The soldier followed Mr. R. into the sitting-room, wiiere the 
fire was still burning in the grate. 

" I have a letter for Miss Mary Lawrence. Is she with you, 
sir?" said the soldier, as he passed through the hall. 

At the mention of her name, the young girl, who stood within 
the door, stepped forward. 

The letter was handed her. She tore the envelope and glanced 
at the name. It was from Charley. 

"And is he dead?" she gasped convulsively. "This is wiit- 
ten in Tennessee, Where, oh, where is he now ?" 

" He is still there." 

" Oh, do not deceive me, I beseech you. Do not deceive mc— 
tell me truly, is he dead ?" and the young girl, unable longer to 
stand, sank on a sofa beside her, and with ghastly look gazed up 
into the young man's face. 

" Who, who ?" exclaimed the father, mother, and sister in one 
breath. " Who is dead ? your brother, or — " 

" Charley !" was the scarcely articulate reply. 

" Oh, no, no ! I assure you he is not dead," exclaimed yonnjy 
Brent, for it was he, faithfully executing the pledge intrusted to 
him. " He is not dead, sir ; I left him quite sick, as he writes 
there to Miss Lawrence ; but his physician assured me he would 

The burdened hearts breathed more freely. 

" Thank God ! thank God !" exclaimed the mother, tears of 
grati tude streaming from her eyes. " Thank God ! my boy yet lives I" 

" Be seated, sir," said Mr. R., conducting the young man to the 
fire, and, drawing up a large arm-chair before its genial warmth, 
led him to it. 

At this moment Mr. and Mrs. Spalding, who, when aroused 
by the noise, had made a hasty toilet, descended the stairway and 
entered the room. 

"Why, how do you do, Mr. Brent?" said Mrs. Spalding, ad- 
vancing, and shaking the young man's hand. 


'* How do you do, Miss Lu ?" said tlie young mtin, rising. 

" Let me introduce to you Mr. Spalding, Mr. Brent." 

" Happy to see you, Mr. Brent," said Mr. Spalding, shaking 
ftands with the soldier, who looked at him a moment surprised. 

"Ah me. Miss Lu, I understand. Yes, Charley told me you 
were to be married, and we had hoped to get to Louisville to the 

"And where is my brother, Mr. Brent? isn't he with you V 

'• He was not well enough to join the command when we left 
Tennessee, and we were forced to leave him behind." 

" Was he ill ?" she asked, quickly. 

" Quite sick ; but liis physician assured me he would recover. 
He had fever, and was unable to bear the fatigue of so long a 

" Had he been long sick, Mr. Brent ?" asked the mother. 

" Only a few days, madam." 

"And was he confined to his bed ?" 

"Yes, madam. The physician thought he needed rest. He 
had been taking a great deal of exercise, and was pretty well worn 
out. Dr. Lapsley, who is a most excellent physician, will stay 
with him until he recovers." 

"And where is my brother, John Lawrence, now, sir?" said 
Mary, as she folded the letter she had just finished reading. 

" I left him with Colonel Duke, near Lexington." 

"And will he not come to Louisville ?" 

"Yes, if we take possession of it; but, otherwise, I think Col- 
onel Morgan's men will be retained around Lexington. It is 
rather a dangerous experiment for us to come alone into the city. 
Oi.e of our men was caught in the streets this evening, and sent 
to prison." 

" Who was this ?" asked Mr. Spalding. 

" Harry Roberts, sir, of Colonel Morgan's command. It seems 
Harry had a sweetheart that he was determined to see, so he 
came to Louisville at all hazards, and this evening some Union 
man recognized him on the streets, and he was immediately 
arrested. I took warning by his fate, and left for the coun- 

• Just at this juncture Mr. Pw. appeared, followed by a servant, 
bearing a large waiter of nice lunch, which was placed before the 
young man, who was pressed to eat. 

Mary stood all the while beside the lamp, reading and re-read 
ing the letter, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and all ua- 


conscious of the presence of others. Lilly stole to her side, and 
whispered : 

"Did you hear that, Mary, about poor Harry Roberts? Isn't 
it sad to think he should come to see Evangeline, and she engaged 
to be married to another ? And now lie is in prison — " 

'*■ In prison, Lilly, where — how ? I did not understand," said 
Mary, looking on Lilly abstractedly. 

" In prison here in Louisville. Came to see Evangeline, and 
was arrested." 

" Poor Harry !" ejaculated Mary. " Sad, sad fate !" 

''I will go," said Mary to herself, as she folded the letter, and 
replaced it in the envelope. 

" Go where, Mary — to prison ?" asked Lilly, with surprise. 

"• Oh, nowhere, Lilly," she replied, coloring deeply. 

While young Brent was partaking of the timely cheer, he has- 
tily gave to his anxious listeners a brief outline of the Confederate 
movements in Kentucky since Colonel Morgan had joined General 
Smith at Lexington. 

*■'' I must go,^^ he said, rising to his feet. "I wish I could remain 
longer, but the hours are swiftly passing, the morning will soon 
be here, and it will not do for it to find me within danger." 

Messages were sent to friends. Thanking them for their kind- 
ness, he bade them adieu and departed. 




"Oh, Evaugeline ! Evaugeline! how could you thus deceive 

"I loved liiin from my childhood, Edward," she sobbed, pas- 
sionately. " How could I do otherwise ?" 

"But you have promised me, Evangeline. Look at this, my to- 
ken of that pledge." 

" And I promised him long yeafs ago — when we were children," 
she replied, looking up through her streaming tears. "Oh! for- 
give me ; forgive me, Edward ! I did not mean to do so ! But, 
Harr}', you know I have loved him so long; and now he is in 
prison, how could I forsake him ?" 

"And do you mean, Evangeline, to prove false to me ? Must I 
understand that you no longer regard your plighted vows ?" 

"Oh, Edward ! do not ask me! You drive me mad with such 
questions! I am wild! wild! — my brain aches!" she exclaimed, 
looking frantically around her. 

"You must answer me, Evangeline ! Will you marry me as you 
have promised ? You know the day is appointed, and preparations 
are already commenced. Surely, you will not now decline? you 
cannot, for our position demands that you fulfil your engage- 

"Oh, public opinion is but a poor solace for a bleeding heart, 
Edward ! "When our hearts are breaking, of what matter is it 
what the world says ?" 

" But you do not mean to say, Evangeline, that you do not love 
me — that you hesitate to marry me ? Am 1 to tind in you the 
fickleness and unfaithfulness that characterize your nature. Re- 
member, you have given your word to be mine — have pledged 
yourself to marry me. This is known to the world, and what 
will the world say if you fail to keep your word ? It will upbraid 
you as inconstant — full of whim and caprice, and cover your 
name with reproach !" 

" Oh, I know it all, Edward ! Do not — do not talk to me 


thus ! I know I will bo called foolish, and perhaps I ani. I may 
be taunted as inconstant, notional, heartless ; but God knows I 
have loved truly, faithfully. Why ! oh, why should I liave ever 
forgotten that love!" 

"You do not \o\eme^ then, Evan<,'eline ? You will not marry 
me ?" 

She did not answer, but, hiding her face in her hands, we])t 

" Answer me, Evangeline ; I will not be thus trifled with !" and 
a dark scowl gathered over his face as he fixed his eyes on her 
bowed form. Ilis voice was severe even to harshness. She felt 
it, and shuddered as she did. 

''You will not answer, Evangeline? Why do you treat me 
thus? I cannot submit to it; I will not longer endure it!" and 
he sprang from the sofa and paced the room with rapid strides. 
Evangeline still wept aloud. 

'"Great God !" he exclaimed, passionately, " am I to be mocked 
thus ? What have I done to deserve such a fate ? I will not bear 
this suspense ; she shall answer me!" and he stamped his foot in 
his rage; then strode on across the floor, his whole manner that 
of a madman. 

His wrath partially exhausted by his rapid exercise, he threw 
himself on the sofa beside her, and forcing her hands from her 
face, exclaimed: 

" Evangeline, you must tell me — and tell me now I" She started 
and struggled to free herself; but he held her tightly in his grasp. 
"Do not strive to go from me, Evangeline. This question must be 
settled now and forever." She looked at him fiercely, defiantly. 

"Loose me, Edward, loose me! I will not be forced!" All 
the passion of her nature spoke from her face. "Loose me, and I 
will tell you all ; but you cannot extort from me one syllable. I 
will not be driven !" 

The young man dared not disobey. The inferior one always 
yields to the superior. He relaxed his grasp, and sat eyeing her 
with a look of mingled wonder and sternness. 

Evangeline, nerving herself, drove back her tears, and looking 
him steadfastly in the face, said, with a degree of calmness quite 
surpriaing : 

"Edward, I have loved Harry Roberts from my childhood. I 
love him still. I thought when I promised to marry you that 1 
bad forgotten him and loved you. I was mistaken. If I have 
wronged your heart — forgive me, oh, forgive me! but I cannot 


marry one I do not love ! I cannot forsake one to whom luy heart 
is wedded, now that he is in prison and suffering!" 

The noble sentiment of the noble girl fell idly on the ears of 
young Lasley. He understood but one thing — that Evangeline 
could not marry him. 

" Cannot marry me, Evangeline ! Is this your decision ? Do 
you forget that you are bound by a solemn promise to do so? You 
dare not break that promise; I cannot release you." 

" And why, Edward ? you do not love me ?" 

"Yes, but I do love you, and I intend to marry you. All the 
world knows we are engaged, and I do not choose to be trifled 
with thus. This passion for Roberts will soon pass aw\ay.' Yoa 
only feel sorry for him because he is in prison. A week hence 
you will feel and think differently. I will give you a week to de- 
cide, Evangeline," said he coldly, as he arose to leave. 

"Oh ! Edward, I want not a week — not a day. I am decided 
now. I tell you I cannot marry you while I love another! You 
ought not to wish me to do it! It would only be to render us 
both miserable forever. I tell you again I cannot marry you, Ed- 
ward Lasley !" 

"You shall never marry Roberts, then, Evangeline!" he said, 
while his face kindled under the dark working of his fierce pas- 

"Then I'll never marry!" she replied determinedly. 

Scowling with the fury of a fiend upon the girl he professed to 
love, he replied in tones of bitter retaliation: 

" So let it be !" He paused a moment for a reply ; but with tlie 
same look of resolution, Evangeline sat silently gazing upon him. 

"Do we part forever, Evangeline?" he asked, as he read the 
meaning of her heart on her fixed, unmoved face. 

"Forever!" she answered. 

"Ah! say not so. There is a future for me. We will meet 
again, Evangeline. Then — then^ perhaps, you will understand 

As he finished this ominous sentence he turned from her, and, 
passing out through the hall, left the house. Evangeline's heart 
stood still, and her cheek grew pale as those threatening words 
rang on her ear. She could meet the enraged man with boldness 
as he stood before her with his words of sarcastic reproach and 
bitter taunt, but she shuddered with fear, as a feeling of mysteri- 
ous dread took possession of her bosom. 

" AYhat can he mean?" she asked herself, as she revolved his 


menacing words iu her mind. "What does he intend to do? 
Surely he does not couteuiplate being revenged on Harry — and yet 
what else can it be? His words were so dark, and he looked so 
fierce as he spoke! But what harm can he do him? Harry is iu 
prison and beyond his reach. But he is a Union man, or professes 
to be one. Would he use this power against him? Ah ! it must 
be that! It can be nothing else. But what can he do?" she ask- 
ed herself. "Ue can have him sent to Catnp Chase, perhaps, and 
kept there. Surely, he cannot mean to take liis life; and if he 
did, how could he accomplish it? He could not shoot him— he 
would not dare do this. But, pei^iaps, he could hire the guard to 
do it. Men have been shot down iu that prison without provocation 
— one, merely because he looked out of the window and waved a 
handkerchief at some girls who were passing. Oh ! if he should do 
this, how horrid it would be! 'You shall never marry Roberts!' 
he said. He must mean by this to destroy either Harry or me. 
Fearful! fearful!" and so Evangeline trembled as she sat there 
alone on the sofa in the silent parlor. 

Long she pondered the last words of Lasley — " There is a future 
forme; we must nieet again, Evangeline. Then — iAdw, perhap.", 
you will understand me!" 

"Harry shall be saved!" she said, half aloud to herself, as she 
rose from the sofa and sought her own room. 




Under the auspices of a Union lady, a friend of her aunt, Evan- 
geline obtained permission to visit the prison where the Southern 
men were kept, on the day following the remarkable visit of Ed- 
ward Lasley. • 

It was ten o'clock in the morning. Evangeline, attired in a 
plain street suit of green, with a hat trimmed in black velvet, from 
which hung a veil of green that fully concealed her features, and 
bearing in her hand a basket of cakes and fruits, with a beautiful 
bouquet, set out witli Mrs. Hanna to vi>it the prison at the corner 
of Green and Fifth streets. This building had been, before our 
peaceful people had learned war, a medical college; but, at the 
commencement of hostilities it was not used for this purpose. The 
Abolitionists of Louisville, ready to do the bidding of their dicta- 
tor at Washington, decided it should be fitted up for prisoners, 
and accordingly men were engaged to put it in proper condition 
for this purpose. The whole building, with its small front yard 
fronting on Green-street, "was rapidly inclosed by a high plank 
fence, and barracks were erected along the west side for the ac- 
commodation of the guard. 

It was a novel sight to the people of Louisville to see such 
preparations in their midst. But, notwithstanding the opposition 
of tiie Southern people, who believed it an overthrow of all con- 
stitutional right to imprison men for opinion's sake, and the won- 
der of Unionists who had not yet grown altogether accustomed to 
the attempt to enslave freemen, the work went rapidly on to 
completion ; and the citizens saw in their midsUa large building 
set apart for the incarceration of men who dared to maintain the 
doctrine that the free people of a sovereign State had a right to 
decide on the course they, as a free and independent people, 
should pursue. 

As Evangeline pursued her way beside Mrs. Hanna, from 
Broadway, down Second street to Green, and thence to the 
prison, she found the streets thronged with men, discussing the 


startling events of tlie day. As she passed tlie cnstom-house, on 
the corner of Third and Green streets, and slij)i)ed in to ask for a 
letter for herself and aunt, she heard a gentleman at the door ex- 
claim, with great emphasis: "Yes, Bragg will come; he has got 
the start of Buell, and is already on his way here, and we have no 
preparation to meet him. These fortifications they are erecting 
are mere child's play — only intended to deceive the people into a 
false idea of security." 

She started as the language fell on her ear, fearing lest some 
Soutliern man, in the gratification he felt, had so far forgotten 
himself as to utter '' treasonable sentiments.'''' She looked hur- 
riedly round, and found to her relief that the words had fallen 
from a known Union man; of course there was no treason 

As she passed out, she paused a moment to ask Mr. McAllister, 
the speaker, when General Bragg would reach Louisville. 

" Be here in a few days, 'Vangeline ; no help for it, and then 
the wretches will drive us all from our homes, and burn our prop- 

''Oh, I hope not, Mr. McAllister," she answered, pleasantly; 
" Southerners don't do such things, 1 believe." 

" Yes they do ; greatest outlaws the world has ever seen — full 
of revenge and the devil." 

Evangeline not deeming it proper to make any further remark 
to the excited old man, bowed and hastened to overtake Mrs. 
Hanna, who was a few paces in advance. 

'' What I do must be done quickly," she said to herself, as she 
walked rapidly on. *'' A few days delay, and all is lost." 

Overtaking Mrs. llanna, she repeated the remark of the old. 

"What do you think, Mrs. Ilanna? Is it your opinion the 
Southern army will reach Louisville?" 

''Never, never, Evangeline. They wouldn't dare to attempt 
the thing. Don't you know General- Nelson is fortifying every 
day, and fresh ^oops are arriving every hour. Old Mr. McAllis- 
ter is wild, he doesn't know what he is talking about — scared to 
death. I sup[»ose." 

" What am I to believe ?" asked Evangeline, mentally. "One 
tells me Bragg will certainly come. The next moment another 
says it is impossible. I will execute my plan, anyhow, and then 
I shall have nothing to fear." 

The two females reached the pris(;n gate, and were about to* 

i . 


enter, when the guard, a burly Pennsylvania Dutchman, presented 
his b;iyonet across the entrance. 

" Where is your pass ? You cannot go in witiiout a permit," 
he said, gruffly. 

Mrs. Hanna paused, felt in lier pocket, and produced a paper. 
The man turned it upside down, eyed it very earnestly for a few 
minutes, wearing all the while a look of great wisdom, and then 
returned it, saying: "All right, pass in." 

Mrs. Hanna smiled, as she replaced the remnant of a gas bill in 
her pocket, and Evangeline, who had caught a glimpse of it, and 
understood what it was, laughed outright. The guard looked 
amazed and somewhat suspicious, but either not fully understand- 
ing the cause of the ladies' merriment, or j^erhaps unwilling to 
admit his ignorance, allowed them to proceed without further 
interruption. At the door they encountered another armed 
man, who, bowing politely, asked them whom they wished to 
see. They replied they desired to see all the prisoners, but partic- 
ularly young Roberts. 

" You can see Roberts, ladies, and any other prisoner you may 
wish, if you will but name them; but you cannot be allowed to 
make a general visit." 

" We will see Mr. Roberts, and any otlier of Morgan's men that 
you may have here." 

The soldier called to one of the attendants of the prison, and 
instructed him to conduct the visitors up stairs and show them to 
young Roberts. 

The ladies followed the old man. On reaching the landing they 
found themselves in the presence of several men, all uniformed. 
.They could not tell whether or not they were Southerners. 
Evangeline thought they were, and eagerly strained her gaze to 
discover, if possible, young Roberts.' The search was fruitless. 
Only strange faces peered upon her. She looked round for her 
conductor — he was gone. There the two ladies stood uncertain 
what to do, wondering if amid that crowd they were to be left to 
meet the prisoner, Evangeline trembled at the thought, and the 
basket she held in her hand manifested her perturbation. 

At length, after a painful suspense, the old man returned. 
Evangeline looked up as she heard his voice. Behind him was a 
young man in prison garb. She thought at first glance it was 
Harry, aod was about to step forward to n)ake herself known. 
But looking again she encountered the face of a stranger, a hand- 
some man of about twenty-five years of age, who bowed and 


moved towards them, and stood a moment as if waiting to be ad- 

"Walk in there, hidies," said the conductor, pointing to a long 
room tilled with benches that opened on the landing. 

They did as directed, and found themselves in the midst of 
prisoners. The young man followed. Entering, tliey bowed. 
Evangeline knew in a moment that those before her were Confed- 
erates, and she lifted her veil, hoping that if she did not recognize 
Ilarr}^ lie might see her and come forward to her relief. 

" AVe wish to see Harry Koberts, one of ^[organ's men, who was 
put in prison a few days since," said Mrs. Ilanna, turning to the 
young gentleman who stood beside her. 

'' Excuse me, ladies," said the young man, bowing politely ; " my 
name is Robertson, and I was told some ladies wished to see me. 
ril speak with the guard, and have Roberts sent in." 

''And so some ladies do wish to see you," said two females, 
stei>ping forward from their seats and confronting the prisoner. 
He looked at them steadily for a moment. 

"Aunt Jane and Cousin Flora!" exclaimed tlie young man sur- 
prised, at the same time grasping their extended hands with all the 
warmth of his ardent nature. "Why, how did you hear I was in 
prison ?" 

" Dr. Henly, of our neighborhood, was in the city when you 
were brought in, and saw you taken from the cars — he recognized 
you, having seen you when you were last on a visit to us. As soon 
as we heard it, we determined to come and see you ; but your 
Uncle James was taken sick the very day we had appointed to set 
out, and has been so indisposed ever since, that we could not leave 
him until yesterday." 

" And how is Uncle James now ?" 

"Better; we hope he will soon be well again. He sent you a 
great deal of love, as did all the children, and says, ' Don't despair, 
you are in a good cause,' " she added, in a whisper, as she discov- 
ered the eye of a Lincoln soldier lixed upon her. The man moved 
forward and took a nearer position. Mrs, Richey understood the 
meaning, and quickly changed the conversation to an inquiry for 
the young man's health. 

"Pretty good. Aunt Jane, and spirits fine; we have most 
excellent company, and as good fare as rebels deserve, I sup- 

" I am gl;id to see you in such fine spirits, Samuel. It will de- 
light your Uncle James to know you bear your fate so heroically. 


He lias been greatly distressed since lie heard you were here. You 
know you are his favorite nephew." 

"Tell uncle it is not so pleasant as meeting the enemy on the 
battle-field, but as a soldier I have made up my mind to take 
whatever chances befall me, and make the best of my fate." 

"How long do you expect to remain here, Samuel?" 

'' Oh, I suppose we shall soon be sent from here to Cainp Chase, 
and perhaps we shall remain there until the war ends. Can't tell; 
these things are so uncertain." 

Mrs. Richey looked up ; the guard had moved back to allow a 
young Confederate to proceed to the two ladies who were sitting 
beyond her. Seizing the opportune moment, she leaned forward 
as if to pick up her fallen handkerchief. " Take that, Mr. Richey 
sent it. Escape if you can, and come to our house." She slipped 
a roll into his hands, which the prisoner immediately placed in his 
pocket. The whole movement had escaped the eye of the guard. 



It was all the two lovers could say, as their eyes met. Mrs. 
Hanna rose, - expecting Evangeline to introduce her. But the 
young girl sat still, overcome by her emotion. Her face was 
crimson, and she trembled violently. ]^o endeavor to be calm 

Mrs. Hanna seeing Evangeline would not introduce her, intro- 
duced herself. "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Roberts," she 
said, endeavoring to reheve the young man's embarrassment. 
" Your mother and I were schoolmates, and although we did not 
meet in after life, I have always remembered our girlish associa- 
tion with pleasure, and I am happy to meet you for lier sake, 
though sad to see you in this place." 

At the mention of his mother's name the tears started to his 
eyes. Four years ago she had been laid to rest beneath the green 
sod in the family burying-ground in the country. Harry had idol- 
ized her, for she was to him the very embodiment of all goodness 
and loveliness. He had heard but the day before that his father 
had married a second time, and this thought seemed to touch- his 
heart the more deeply. 

" You are comfortable here, Mr. Roberts, I suppose?" remarked 
Mrs. Hanna, desiring to turn the current of his thoughts. 

" As well situated as I could expect in a prison, madam ; but it 
can scarcely be styled comfortable. However, I wish not to com- 
plain. Soldiers must take the chances of their profession." 


" This is a sad and horrid war, Mr. Roberts, and untold suffer- 
injT must yet be endnred before it ends." 

*' Yes, madam, war is the most dreadful scourge tliat can be sent 
on a people, and this war of wars is to us the most dreadful. And 
it will become more and more so the longer it is protracted.' 

"Only in one way, Mrs. Ilanna." 

''And what is that ?" 

'"Acknowledge the independence of the Confederacy!" 

"Oh, that will never be done, sir. Jt cannot be done, for it 
would never do to sever this great and glorious Union." 

''The Union is dissolved already, Mrs. llanna, and force of arms 
will never reunite it. But it will not do .for me to discuss this 
subject. You know I am a ])risoner in the hands of my enemy — 
an enemy who thinks that to diflEer with him is a crime worthy of 

"How did you know, Evangeline, that I was here? I thought 
you had not heard it." 

""Mary Lawrence told me, Harry. One of Colonel Morgan's 
men told her — young Brent, I believe. 1 heard it the morning 
after you were arrested, but they would not let me come until 
now." She spoke very low, so that the guard who stood by to 
overhear their conversation might not catch bur words: 

" Did Brent escape?" 

" Of course lie did, or he would be here." 

"Oh ! yes; he left that night, and I suppose got back safely, as 
we have heard nothing from him since." 

This conversation was conducted in a low tone, and as Harry 
had moved his seat beside Evangeline, Mrs. Hanna did not under- 
stand it. Observing that the two young people desired to inter- 
change some words privately, she engaged the guard by remark- 

" Rather an unpleasant duty, sir, to watch here ; but it is a duty 
that some one ' must discharge.' " 

"Oh, yes, mum, as a soldier I have to obey commands; but I 
would a great deal rather be in the field than here. I don't like 
the confinement nor the business of keeping men in prison. But 
these are war times, madam, and the regular order of things is en- 
tirely changed." 

" Harry," said Evangeline, while this conversation was pending, 
" you must get out of this prison. Here is my purse — bribe the 
guard if you can!" As she said this, she drew out of her pocket 
a small purse filled with gold, and slipped it into Harry's hand. 


Scarcely realizing what he did, sosurprised«was he at Evangeline's 
words and act, lie took the purse and hastily put it into his pocket. 

"In this bouquet, Harry, is a note. If you find you can carry 
out the plan, be at the second window on Third-street Sunday 
evening, at four o'clock, and give the signal mentioned. Be plain, 
distinct, so that I can understand you. I will attend to the rest. 
Understand, Harry ?" 

He nodded assent. 

"Be careful; don't betray yourself. You will be shot if you 

Harry gazed at her in wonder. He had always known that she 
was resolute and fond of daring deeds, yet excitable and frequently 
overcome by her strong emotion. To beluHd her so calm, collect- 
ed, planning his escape from prison, wiis a manifestation so unex- 
pected he was filled with astonishment. 

" Don't look so surprised, Harry ; the guard will suspect you." 

" Here, Harry," she said, modestly, as she saw the eye of the 
guard fixed upon her, " is a bouquet of flowers. You allow the 
prisoner to receive flowers, sir, I suppose," she said, looking up at 
the man with one of her sweetest smiles. " Won't you have some 
fruit, sir?" and she extended the basket to him, while she handed 
the flowers to Harry. " Those apples and oranges are very nice; 
do take some !" 

The man, bowing politely, reached forward and took an apple. 

"Have an orange, sir?" 

"No, mum, I thank you ; tliis is sufiicient." 

" Won't you have an orange, Mrs. Hanna ?" 

The lady declined. 

'• Well, Harry, I am sure you will not refuse me." 

"Thank you," he said. 

"This young gentleman may have as much fruit as he pleases, 
sir! Good for his health." 

"Oh ! yes, mum ; we do not deny the prisoners any little thing 
to eat that their friends bring them." 

"W^ell, then, Harry, you shall have it all; take the basket!" 

As he was receiving it, she leaned forward and whispered, " Take 
the note from the bouquet ; it might fall out." Then turning to 
the guard, she asked, in order to distract his attention : 

"Do you admit ladies every day, sir?" 

" No, mum ; only on Thursday mornings." 

" And can any one come in then who desires to ? I have never 
been here before, and do not understand fully your regulations." 


*'Any one who lias u permit can come; but onr orders are 
t^trict, and we cannot allow any one who has not a pass." 

Mr-;. Hauria K>oked at Evangeline and smiled. 

While the soldier was interesting himself to instruct Evangeline^ 
Harry had extracted the note from the bouquet and thrust it down 
into his pocket with the purse. His manner was nervous. Evan- 
geline observed it; the others, unacquainted with the young man's 
manner, did not. 

Relieved of her great anxiety, Evangeline regained her natural 
vivacity, and chatted with Harry and the guard with all the ease 
and naivete for which she was so remarkable. 

Mrs. Kichey and Flcfl-a rose to leave. Evangeline looked up as 
they did so. Recognizing the young girl, she rose to meet her. 

" Why, Flora! when did you get to the city? I had not heard 
you were here. Are you staying at your Auut Ludlow's, and will 
you be here long?" 

Flora answered her questions and then introduced Evangeline 
to her mother and cousin, young Peterson. 

Harry Roberts advanced to speak with her. 

*'Why, Mr. Roberts! is this you?" exclaimed Flora. ''I am 
surprised to see you here. I tliought you were with Colonel Mor- 
gan, near Lexington!" 

" And so I was, Miss Richey, and ought to be there now. But, 
anxious to see my friends in Louisville, I yielded to my desires and 
returned home, and, in an evil hour, I was betrayed by one whom 
I thought was a friend ; and now I am here en route to Camp 
Chase. You know ' the best laid schemes of mice and men gang 
aft aglay,' Miss Flora. What can't be avoided must be submitted 
to; and it is as much a part of a soldier's life to endure hardships 
as to tight. I have fought, and now I shall bear as best I can 
whatever is imposed upon me." 

'•That is true philosophy," replied the young girl, her face grow- 
ing animated under the expression of such sentiments. "No man 
is a hero without this element of character. We must learn to 
suflfer and to wait. It matters but little where we are, or how sit- 
uated, if we but serve the great cause of right." 

The guard standing nearest her scowled. Mrs. Richey touched 
her warningly on the shoulder. 

"Good-morning, Mr. Roberts. I hope a brighter fate awaits 

^Evangeline, come to see me; I shall be in the city but a few 
days longer." 



"If you will be in this afternoon at five, Flora, I will call then." 

"You will find me at home and glad to see you." 

Bidding farewell to the prisoner, and bowing to Mrs. Ilanna, 
Mrs. Richey and her daughter left the room. 

"Your half-hour has expired, mum," said the soldier to Evange- 
line, who was about to reseat herself beside Mrs. Il.inna. 

"Do you allow us only a half-hour to see a friend?" 

"Had you come earlier you could have remained longer, but our 
orders are to have no company for the prisoners after this hour." 

""We will come earlier next Thursday, Mrs. Ilanna. It seems 
to me we have been here but a short time. But then, all is so 
novel to me, time has passed quickly by. •You will allow me to 
come in next visiting day, will you not, sir?" she said, turning and 
addressing the guard. "I shall wish to visit my cousin as often as 
possible before he goes to Camp Chase." 

" Oh, cejtainh', mum ; if you have a permit, you can come in. 
I may not be here at all then ; I am expecting every day to be 
called out to the field. You know the rebels are marching upon 
the city, and we shall all have to turn out to defend it." 

"Why, do you think General Bragg is coming to Louisville? lie 
will not be ra>h enough for that, will he?" 

"He'll come if he can, mum. It is our business to prevent him. 
I scarcely think he will get here; but these rebels are a determin- 
ed people, and no one can tell what they'll attempt." 

"'• Very true," responded Mrs. Ilanna, "but I do not think Bragg 
will ever reach Louisville. There are too many men to oppose 

"Good-by, Cousin Harry," said Evangeline, gayly. "Keep up 
your spirits — 'tis as well to be merry as sad. You know what un- 
cle always says," and she bent forward and whispered, "Remem- 
ber Sunday evening, before six o'clock — get out if possible, or you'll 
be sent to Camp Chase. Pretty good h)gic, isn't it, Harry?" 

"Oh, very fine, and it shall be my motto for the future. I shall, 
undoubtedly act upon it, let whatever will betide me, rest assured 
of that." 

Mrs. Hanna expressed her hope that the young man's imprison- 
ment might not be long, but that an exchange would soon be ef- 
fected in his behalf, adding, "I have a son in the Union army, Mr. 
Roberts, and, as a mother, I can feel for you. Good-morning, sir. 
I will call again and see you, and if there is any thing you desire, I 
will bear the request to your father." 

"Much obliged to you, madam. The superintendent, Captain 


Dillard, kindly furwnrded a nc»te for me to pa, yesterday, and al- 
thougli I have not yet liad an answer, I know my requests will be 
attended to." 

Mrs. Ilanna and Evangeline, accompanied by the guard, who 
seeijied to be quite pleased with the young girl's kind and fascinat- 
ing manner, passed out into the entry. On the landing, they en- 
countered Mr. Roberts, Harry's father, with Captain Dillard, the 
Prison Superintendent, and followed by a servant boy bearing a 
basket of clothing, which showed from its tumbled appearance that 
it had been very unceremoniou>ly examined by the sentinel. Evan- 
geline bowed to Mr. Roberts and passed on. 

Gaining the street, she bade Mrs. Ilanna good-morning, tliank- 
ing her for her kind escort, and engaging to accompany her to the 
prison on the following Thursday morning, and proceeding down 
Green-street, past the hospital, turned into Centre and pursued her 
way to Market-street. She walked up Market until slie reached 
the Brook-street market-house. Discovering here a Jew furnish- 
ing store, she entered and examined several suits of dark clothing. 
Finding one that answered her purpose, she drew forth a roll of 
Kentucky bills and paid for it: ordering the merchant to send it 
to Mr. Ludlow's at five o'clock that evening precisely, she turned 
to leave. 

"To whom must I direct it?" 

''Miss Flora Richey," she replied promptly. "You know Mr. 
Ludlow's residence, do you ? near the corner of Chestnut and Sixth, 
north side." 

The man made a memorandum and placed it on the suit, which 
he had laid aside on the shelf. 

On her return home, Evangeline met Mary Lawrence. 

" I have just called to see you, Evangeline, and the girl told me 
you had gone to the prison to see Harry Roberts. Is that true ? 
You haven't been there, have you ? "What will Ed. Lasley say, 
when he hears you are visiting your old sweetheart in prison? 
AVon't it arouse his jealousy a little? You know he is a Union 
man, and it might be the means of embittering his feelings." 

*' Oh, Mr. Lasley must look out for himself. You know it is 
my duty — so aunt has always taught me — to visit the sick and 
those that are in prison." 

Her manner was so full of meaning, that her young friend could 
not conceal her surprise. 

'• Come, Mary, go back home with me, and I will tell you all. 
You know I was engaged to Lasley, and asked you to attend me ?" 


" Was engaged, Evangeline! ^Vliat do you mean? You have 
not broken your engagement, have you? He is iu town now. 
Took dinner with Mr. Spalding yesterday at Mr. R.'s. I was 
present. * He did not act like a rejected lover. Was gayer and 
more animated than when I met him befoi-e. Have you seen him 
since ?'' 

" Yes, I saw him last evening, and for the last time, Mary." 

'' Why, Evangeline, do explain yourself. Surely you are trying 
to hoax me. For the last time ? You haven't discarded him, 
have you V 

''Hush, Mary, yonder he comes, now. I do not wish to meet 
him again. Look ! I do believe he reels. Come, quick, quick, 
into this store, and Til shut the door, so that he can't see us," 

The two girls stepped into Mrs. Le Compte's fancj' store, on 
Fourth-street, and immediately closed the door. Mrs. LeCompte 
looked up from behind her counter rather surprised. 

" What's the matter, Miss Evangeline, with you and Miss Law- 
rence this morning ?" asked the shopkeeper, looking out from 
under her nicely plaited French cap-border. 

" A drunken man, Mrs. Le Compte, and I am so afraid of 
drunken men," and the young girl held tightly to the door knob, 
at the same time peering curiously out into the street,^through the 
glass door. 

Just then young Lasley, leaning on the arm of a young man 
whom neither of the girls recognized, passed the door. His face 
was flushed, his eyes red, his hat slouched — his whole manner evi- 
denced his condition. It was with difficulty his friend could keep 
him steady. He was talking in an earnest tone, and Evangeline 
fancied she heard him say, "And I will be revenged, Nick, see if 
I ain't." 

The two young girls looked at each other in mute wonder. 

"• What was that he said, Mary ? did you hear him ?" whispered 

"Something about being revenged, I believe it was, I'could 
not hear distinctly." 

"I thought so, Mary. Ah, I know what he means. He is 
threatening Harry. I will tell you all when I get home. Look 
out, Mary, see if they have turned the corner of Market," 

"They have turned, but are walking out towards Main-street." 

" We can go then, I didn't know but that he had recognized 
me, and would wait until we came out." 

The two girls left, and pursued their way rapidly towards 


Broadway. Reacliing the house of her aunt, Evnnirellne rang the 
bell, and ordering some lemonade, conducted Mary up stairs to 
her own room. 

Closing the door, and securing it so that there might be no in- 
trusion, the two girls seated themselves on the sofa, and Evange- 
line told Mary all that had occurred the evening before with young 
Lasley, and of his threat that she should never marry Harry Roberts. 

"I do not know, Mary, whether the threat was against me or 
Harry. He may take my lite if an opportunity should oflfer. I 
have already heard that he possessed a violent temper, and when 
once excited he is desperate. But I never realized how violent 
his temper was until I saw him last evening. Why, I tell you, 
he acted the madman. If I did not love Hany Roberts, I would 
uever marry him now. I would be afraid to do it." 

** Well, Evangeline, this is all very strange to me, wholly unex- 
])ected. When I met you this morning, I sujjposed you had been 
out making preparations for your wedding. You know everybody 
believes it is to take place on the 10th of next month. I have 
heard it half a dozen times since I came in this morning. Does 
your aunt know your decision V' 

" No one but yourself and Ed. Lasley, and he doesn't believe 
it. He said, among the last things before he left, that he would 
give me one week to decide. I fear to tell n)y aunt. This is the 
only dread I have on my mind. If she but knew it and was re- 
conciled to it, I would be so relieved. But my aunt, Mary, is so 
anxious that I should marry Ed. Lasley. He is rich, you know, 
and an only child, and will doubtless be the heir to his old maiden 
aunt's fortune. And my aunt wishes me to make what she calls 
*' a handsome establishment" when I marry. She never favored 
Harry Roberts, and now that he is a rebel, she would be more 
opposed to it than ever. Oh, I dread to tell her, and yet I must 
do it. I will never marry Lasley. I love Harry, have always 
loved him, and if he ever gets out of that prison, I will go to the 
ends of the earth to marry him. He is brave, noble, honorable, 
Mary, one that I could love if we had to live in a cottage. 
Wealth does not bring happiness, Mary. Look at Aunt Cecilia. 
What is there on earth that she desires, that she does not have, 
and yet where will you find a more wretched woman? Her fash- 
ionable friends think she is blessed beyond most human beings, 
and no doubt many of them envy her her position. But could 
they lift the curtain and see behind the scenes, how differently 
would they feel and judge 1" 


"Your views are correct, Evangeline, and you talk quite like a 
pliilosopher. Bui have you considered this matter well ? Do you 
know all it involves?" 

"I have considered it this far, Mary ; I love Harry, and I do not 
love Lasley. I thought I did, but it was mere fancy. As soon as 
I heard Harry was here in prison, I felt I should die if I did not 
get to see him, and I have walked by that prison a hundred times 
in the last two days, hoping I might catch a glimpse of his form. 
I see that wealth does not purchase happiness, and I choose the 
latter. And besides, Harry will have a maintenance, and a hand- 
some one, too, if this war leaves Southern people with any thing; 
and if it does not, why I will love him still, and we will live in 

"You are decided, then, Evangeline?" 

"I am, Mary." 

"But do you not think it may be sympathy for Harry, rather 
than love, tliat has decided you thus? May you not change your 
views if he should be removed from you again?" 

"Oh! but I do not intend he shall be removed, Mary, unless 
they take him to Camp Ciiase. I am afraid to tell you what I 
have decided to do. I know you will think it so rash, so wild. 
But, Mary, you know I have but few in this world to love me ; no 
one*loves me as Harry does. Aunt Cecilia admires me because I 
afford her pleasure and draw around her young and gay society, of 
which she is very fond; and then, you know, she has no child of 
her own to bestow her caresses upon. This is the extent of her 
atfection for me. But Harry would lay down his life for me, 
Mary ; he is my best, my truest friend. Why should I not cling 
to him, even if I yield up every thing to do it? Will you betray 
me if I trust you? I have always told you every secret of my 
heart, but this is one more momentous than all others. Will you 
promise to hide it away in your own bosom and never speak of it 
to any one?" 

" Have I ever forgotten my trust, Evangeline ?" 

Just then the servant knocked at the door with a waiter of ice- 
cream and cakes. 

Evangeline rose to open the door. 

"No lemons, Miss Vangy, and Miss Cilia told me to bring you 
some cream and cakes." 

" Very well, Emily ; bring it in and put it on the stand, and tell 
aunt I am much obliged to her. You must not come again until 
I ring for you." 


The girl passed out and closed the door. Evangeline, throwing 
off her hat and taking Mary's, resumed her seat besi^le her friend 
on the s<»ta, 

*'I have decided to do this, Mary: first, to effect Harry's es- 
cape; and then, if he luis to leave Kentucky, to go with hiui." 

*'But, Evangeline, how are you to accomplish these two haz- 
ardous undertakings? You cannot get Harry out of prison ; 
and if you did, how will you get through to the Confederate 

'*Mary, my belief is that any thing can be accomplished, if you 
only determine it shall be done. These are times when the very 
foundations of society are moved, and what would be regarded 
under ordinary circumstances as insanity, will pass current now 
for heroism. Many females in every age have dared every thing 
for their lovers' sake; why may not I do the same? If I can 
once get within the Confederate limits, I shall have nothing to 

" But how is Harry to escape ?" 

" Oh ! I don't know that he will, Mary ; that is yet to be tested. 
His attempt may prove successful; it may not. But you know 
several have escaped from that as well as from other prisons. I 
do not see why he cannot do so too. He has promised me he will 

"You saw him then this inorning and mentioned it to him? 
How did you find an opportunity ? I have heard that all visitors 
are so closely watched by a guard stationed in the room for that 
purpose, that no private conversation at all can pass between them 
and their friends.'^ 

'' Oh, I whispered to Harry, who sat beside me, while the guard 
was talking to Mrs. Hanna. He looked suspiciously upon me once 
or twice, but I paid no attention to it. Moreover, I carried Harry 
a bouquet of flowers that had a note concealed in it, proposing a 
plan of my own, and this I gave him and in a few words explained 
the outline, so that when he had read it he would understand wh.-i 
I meant." 

" Why, Evangeline, you astonish me ! You are really a heroine. 
Who could have thought that you — always so thoughtless, so gay 
— would have ventured upon an experiment so full of danger and 
requiring so much thought and courage ?" 

''Ah, Mary, love is a powerful incentive — a great teacher." 

" And did you consult no one, Evangeline ?" 

"Xo one, Mary; I have told no one but Harry and you. It 


most be kept very secret, or the whole thing may fail and Harry's 
life be the forfeit."' 

Mary sat a few moments absorbed in deep thought. Two or 
three times she looked at Evangeline as if she wished to tell her 
something she dared not communicate, and then, lowering her 
eyes, relapsed into thought again. 

"Evangeline," she said at length, looking up through her curls, 
''you have confided in me; I will confide in you. I need not ask 
you to keep faithfully what I tell you from the ears of every 
human being. I know that under the present circumstances you 
could not divulge it. You know, Evangeline, that, like you, I am 
pretty much alone in the world. All my relations, save my father 
and some cousins, are in the South : and Charley R. is there, too, 
Evangeline — they left him sick in Tennessee. My father lias gone 
through to Lexington, and I am left alone." 

•'Has your father gone, Mary? How did he get through, and 
when did he leave? I had not heard a word of his going.*' 

" Of course it was best to keep it secret. He has been gone a 
week, and as I have heard nothing from him, lam led to hope that 
he has reached Lexington safely. He went from here to a friend's 
six miles out in the country, in a carriage ; from there he i)roposed 
to get forward as best he could. Did not know but that he would 
have to walk most of the way." 

Mary paused as if uncertain whether to proceed. 

" And do you propose to follow your tather in the event the 
Confederates do not come to Louisville?" asked Evangeline, un- 
derstanding the cause of her hesitation. 

'• Yes, Evangeline, thfit is my determination. I am now waiting 
to see what will be the issue of General Bragg's movements as re- 
gards this city, and also the permanent occupation of the State. 
This is all that keeps me here now. Pa said he would send for 
me just as soon as it was decided what the Confederates would do ; 
but I shall not wait for him to do this, if General Bragg passes into 
the interior of the State. If he does not come and take me, I will 
immediately make my way through, lest it be too late if I wait for 
pa to send some one for me." 

"Was Charley very sick, Mary? and how did you know it? 
and where is your brother? You, of course, have not seen him 


"I^o; John is with Colonel Duke at Lexington. Y(^ung Brent, 
who came to Louisville, left him the very night Harry Roberts 
was arrested and put in prison. He brought me a letter from 


Charley, and came all the way out to Mr. li.'s, where 1 was spend- 
ing a few days, to deliver it to me." 

''And how was Charley when Brent left him V' 

" Quite sick ; had tyi)hoid fever, but his physician did not COQ- 
sider his case dangerous, lie was in Tennessee, not far from 
Knoxville, in a private house, where the family would take the 
tenderest care of him. The physician boarded in the house, so 
that he will need for nothing that kindness and medical skill can 
afford. But, oh ! Evangeline, you cannot tell how miserable I am ; 
I fancy all the time he is dead ; dream at night of his sufferings 
and death ! It is horrible, this agonizing suspense. I ftel at times 
I shall go mad. And I cannot hear from him! It will be weeks 
— perhaps months — before I know whether he is dead or liv- 

"Oh, the horrors of this war, Mary! what tongue can describe 
them? I shudder when I think of the suffering we have yet to 
endure. Surely, a just God will punish these Northern fanatics for 
the misery and death they are spreading over the land ! Yes, a 
day of retribution must come when they shall be made to feel the 
curse of their own evil doings. I sometimes think I could rejoice 
if the earth would open and swallow them up, as it did those peo- 
ple of old that Mr. Young preached about two or three Sabbaths 
ago. But, Mary, if you have determined to go to your father, why 
cannot we go together?" 

"Oh! I would be so glad of your company, Evangeline, and we 
will go together if it is possible. But will you go out to the Con- 
federates if Harry is sent to Camp Chase?" 

"No, Mary; if he should fail to escape and be kept here, or be 
forwarded to any other Northern prison, I would remain here. 
You know I could but be miserable in the Confederacy where I 
should never hear from him. There is nothing to take me South 
but Harry." 

" How soon will you — can you — decide, Evangeline ?" 

" In a few days, Mary. I can let you know on Monday morn- 
ing. You will not leave before then, will you ?" 

" Oh, no ! General Bragg could not get here before that time. 
My going depends on his movements. I shall see you before Mon- 
day. I am coming to town again Saturday evening to stay all 
night; call and see me at my boarding-house." 

" Oh, come and stay with me, Mary ! Do not think of going to 
your room — so lonely, so cheerless it must be, now your father is 



•'Thank you, Evangie; I ^hall be compelled to remain at home 
to make some preparations that will be necessary if I leave." 

"Then stay with me to day, Mary." 

''Cannot to-day. I came in with Lu and Mrs. Spalding, and 
shall have to return with them. They leave at two ; it is now 
hnlf-past one," she said, looking at her watch. " We will meet at 
church — but you come to see me Saturday." 

'' Very well ; I'll do so." 

Throwing on her hat, Mary hastened to her friends at the ap- 
pointed place of meeting, and they had not yet arrived. Stepping 
into a store for a few moments to buy a mourning collar, she heard 
one of the cleiks remark to an elderly gentleman, who stood in 
front of the counter examining some cassimere, and whose face 
was turned from her so tliat she could not see it: 

" Will they not send our prisoners across the river before Bragg 
can get here ?" 

Slie did not hear the gentleman's reply distinctly. The words, 
" Harry, haste, and pantaloons," met lier ear, and she quickly con- 
cluded that it must be Mr. Roberts, who was anxious to get suit- 
able clothing prepared for his sou, before he should be sent to 
Camp Chase. 

Ordering one pair of pantaloons cut off and trimmed, the old 
gentleman then asked for some pocket-handkerchiefs. In turning 
to look after the clerk, who proceeded to the front of the store, 
Mary caught a glance of his features. It was, as she had supposed, 
Harry's father. Ah, how sad was that usually mild, genial face! 
AY hat an expression of sorrow haunted the deep, gray eyes and 
rested around the mouth I 

'• How do you do, Mr. Roberts?" said Mar}', as cheerfully as she 
could, advancing towards him and offering her hand. 

He looked at her a moment intently. 

" Why, I did not recognize you at first, Mary. How do you do? 
You look changed, my child, in your mourning dres>. How is 
your father? I have not seen him for several days. I used to 
meet him almost daily. I thought, perhaps, he had gone from the 


'•He has, Mr. Roberts," replied Mary, lowering her voice. "Pa 
left several days since to join the Confederates at Lexington." 

"He is not g<'ing into the army, child, an old man as he is!" 
exclaimed Mr. Roberts, in astonishment. 

''Ko, sir; but he desires, in the event the Confederates have to 
leave Kentucky, to go out with them, and he felt the surest way 


to secnre liis object was to get into their Hues while the army w;is 

'' Ail, I wisii I could go, Mary. But they have got poor Harry 
here in prison, and I could not leave hira. Too bad tliat he should 
have run So much risk to see us and be caught. "VTe did not get 
to see him before he was arrested. He had been in town but a' 
half Ijour when an old schoolmate of his, a Union spy, met him 
and recognized him, and had him immediately put in prison." 

"And haven't you seen him at all, Mr. Roberts?" 

"Yes, this morning for a siiort time, just long enough to ascer- 
tain wiiat he needs to make him comfortable. He left all his clothes 
at Lexington, putting on the worst he had to avoid detection. I 
am out trying to get him clothing ready before he is sent to Camp 

"Have they decided to send our men there ?" 

*' I don't know that they have; but of course they will do it if 
there is any certain promise that Bragg will get here. I would 
not be surprised if ihey were ordered otf to-morrow morning." 

Mary's heart beat quickly as she listened to these words. " Poor 
Evangeline — poor Harry!" she said to herself. "Wouldn't it be 
too dreadful if they should send him away! Oh, poor girl, her 
heart would break, she is so sanguine now of his escape. I wisii 
I could go and tell her what I have heard. But, then, what good 
would result from it? She could not communicate with Harry, 
even if she knew it, and the dread would only* be a source of mis- 

"Have you been long waiting, Mary?" said Mrs. Spalding, en- 
tering the store and laying her hand on her shoulder. " Why, how 
do you do, Mr. Roberts? I did not observe it was you ; the room 
is so dark after coming out of the bright sunshine. And how is 
Harry? I suppose you have seen him." 

"He is well and in fine spirits, poor fellow. He bears his im- 
prisonment like a hero. Where is Charley ? I did not ask for 
John, Mary ; I'suppose they are both with Morgan at Lexington ?" 

"Charley was left very sick in Tennessee, Mr. Roberts. Was 
wholly unable to come with his command into Kentucky. Had 
typhoid fever." 

"Indeed 1 I am sorry to hear it. And did John stay with him? 
I know they have always been great friends fnjm their boyliood." 

" No, Mr. Roberts, my brother came into Kentucky with Colonel 
Morgan, and is ncnv near Lexington. Pa expected to meet him as 
soon as he reached there." 


'• Colonel Morgan, with a portion of h\s command, have been 
sent out to intercept General Morgan's retreat from Cumberland 
G.-ij), Harry told me. Is your brother in that expedition, Mary?" 

'•Indeed, I do not know, sir. Mr. Brent, one of Morgan's men, 
who was in Louisville a few days ago, told me that John was with 
Colonel Duke, somewhere in the vicinity of Lexington, and was 
well. This is the only intelligence we have had from him since the 
Confederates entered the State." 

"Mr. Spalding is waiting for us at the door, Mary." 

The two bade Mr. Roberts good-by, and seating themselves in 
the carriage, drove out into the country. 



Wart had scarcely left Evangeline's room before her aunt sent 
up Emily to tell her young mistress to come to her room for a few 
minutes, as she wished to see her. 

''What does Aunt Cecilia want with me, Emily?'' 

" Indeed I don't know, Miss 'Vangy. She told me to make 
haste ; had sumthin' of importance to tell you." 

Evangeline trembled from head to foot. Her heart foreboded 
evil. Smoothing her hair and taking off her basque, she descended 
the stairway and sought her aunt's room. 

"Evangeline," said Mrs. Terrant, "every thing is in such con- 
fusion here, I have decided to go to Indianapolis for a few days, 
and shall leave this evening on the cars. You must get ready 
immediately. Emily will pack your trunks while you go out with 
me to do a little shopping, Emily, tell the cook to have dinner 
on the table as soon as she can, and Henry must have the car- 
riage at the door in half an hour. Your uncle cannot go with us, 
so we shall have to take care of ourselves. You know we should 
not dare to take Emily or Pauline. We no doubt shall have a 
pleasant visit. It will at least be a recreation, and we can remain 
until the fate of Louisville is sealed. God grant it may never fall 
into the hands of the rebels, though it looks as if it might. Mr. 
Knott told me there was some danger of such a disaster, and I 
heard a gentleman remark that the authorities had ordered every 
thing valuable to be removed to the other side of the river, and 
the prisoners to be sent to Camp Chase. They seem to be pre- 
paring for Bragg." 

"But, come, Evangeline, we have no time to discuss these mat- 
ters now. You had better go to your room and take out such 
clothes, Evangeline, as you wish to carry with you. Do not 
leave any of your valuables behind. Use three trunks if neces- 

" Dinner is ready, mistress," said Pauline, appearing at the door 
of Mrs. Terrant's room. 

"Well, come, Evangeline, we will take our dinner; you will 
then have time to select such clothing as you propose to take. 


Come, we will not wait for your uncle, to-day. It is a half-hour 
earlier than he usually comes here." 

Evangeline mechanically followed her aunt to the dining-room. 
She had not once essayed to speak. Her aunt attributed her 
tiilence to her unwillingness to go on account of her approaching 
marriage, and accordingly said, as soon as the servant had left the 
room : 

'"Yon must write a note, Evangeline, to Mr. Lasley, postponing 
your marriage at leaj>t one month. Perhaps he may call in this 
evening. He has not been here to-day, has he ? You had better 
write the note as soon as dinner is over. I will tell your uncle to 
have it handed to him, if he has not left the city ; and if he has, to 
have it forwarded without delay to Bardstown. Matters are in 
such a confused condition now, that it would be impossible to 
make preparations for any thing of the kind. Invite him to visit, 
you at Indianapolis; and if you choose, you can marry him 

Evangeline sat like some one petrified. Her heart was burst- 
ing with fear and anxiety. How could she reheve herself from 
this dreadful position ? She could not leave Louisville, that was 
impossible. But what valid excuse could she offer to her aunt 
for desiring to stay ? Once she thought she would acknowledge 
all, and throw herself on her aunt's clemency. But she could 
not do this. It would be to ask too great a favor. And then she 
remembered her aunt's antipathy to Harry Roberts, and her utter 
dislike to all secessionists. She dared not make the appeal, so 
she sat still and silent, her heart beating violently. The color 
came and went in her cheeks, and the tears would rush up to her 
eyes, but she would force them down again and endeavor to ap- 
pear unmoved. 

" You do not seem to be pleased with the prospect of your visit^ 
Evangeline," said Mrs. Terrant, '' I thought you would be de- 
lighted to have a short respite from this ruinous excitement. For 
my part, I am almost dead. I do not believe I could live unless 
I can escape from it awhile. If I find Indianapolis in such a tu- 
mult, I shall leave mj lister's and go into the country, to some 
quiet village, if such a place can be found." 

"Indeed, aunt, I do not wish to go," said Evangeline, summon- 
ing all her resolution for the fearful task. "Do let me stay with 
Uncle Terrant, and keep house for him while you are gone. I 
will get Mary Lawrence and Mrs. Davy to stay with me." 

•' Why, Evangeline, don't you wish to go ? What strange freak 


has come over you ? You are usually desirous to travel. And 
who will go with me? I cannot go alone; never travelled by mv- 
self in all my life. But why don't you wish to go, Evangeline? 
Wliat reason can you have for desiring to stay here ?" 

''Oh, aunt, I could not leave Louisville now. I like the excite- 
ment. It would take my life to have to go and stay among the 
Yankees now. You know, Aunt Cecilia, I never did like them." 

" Oh, you needn't trouble yourself about the Yankees ; you >liall 
not be annoyed by them." 

*'But, aunt, I hope you will excuse me this once. If it were 
any other time in the world, 1 should take pleasure in accompany- 
ing you. Let Uncle Terrant go with you, and then he can return ; 
and if you desire it, I can come out as soon as the fate of Louis- 
ville is decided. Won't you excuse me this time, dear aunt, and 
allow me to stay?" said Evangeline, most coaxingly, quite reas- 
sured by the kind, considerate manner in which her aunt received 
her refusal. 

•• I do not wish to force you, EvangelincT, but should be very 
glad to have you with me." 

'* Oh, aunty, you will have company enough when you get there. 
Your nieces will go with you wherever you wish, and they are 
most charming society, you know. I will pack all your trunks 
while you are down town, and will insure that Uncle Terrant will 
go with you. Had you not better take most of your silver, aunt? 
or will you leave it all ready packed to be sent across the river 
as soon as it is ascertained that the Confederates will certainly 
reach here?" 

*• I believe I will leave it, Evangeline. It would be a great bur- 
den to me to take it with me, and you will keep it in readiness to 
be moved at any moment, won't you ?" 

*' Indeed I will, aunty. It shall be the first thing attended to 
by me to-morrow. I will have it all nicely rubbed, and securely 
])Ut away." 

*• Get my bonnet and mantle, Pauline," said Mrs. Terrant to 
the girl, as she arose from the table. "Evangeline, put all my 
best dresses in one trunk, with my jewelry and velvet cloak, and 
till another with plainer wear, and yet another with undercloth- 
ing. Pauline and Emily must do the packing — you supervise. I 
shall leave for Jell'ersouville at half-past four o'clock." 

'• Oh, I will have every thing ready, aunt," said Evangeline, 
gayly, feeling as light as a fairy. 

Leaving a few directions with the servants, Mrs. Terrant then 


tlirew on her bonnet and silk mantle, and drove down the street 
to shop. 

Evangeline npplied herself most energetically to the task before 
lier. Wardrobes, drawers, boxes, were robbed of their contents 
to fill the three ponderous trnnks, that stood open in the middle of 
the room, awaiting their filling. Evangeline had scarcely begun 
operations before her Uncle Terrant came in. 

" Heigh-day, Evangie, ain't you and your aunt ready to be off 
yet? Oh, this trunk-packing — what a nuisance to the world ! I 
don't see what women want wMth such an interminable quantity 
of clothing, anyhow. Come, come, make haste, you will not be 
ready in time. "We must cross the river at precisely half-past 

" Go, Emily, tell cook to bring in uncle's dinner directly. 
Here, uncle, come lie down on the lounge and rest. I want to 
talk with you awhile," and Evangeline prepared the pillows in 
her sweetest manner, and drew down the shade at the head of the 
couch, so that the light would not fall too glaringly on the mer- 
chant's face. 

" Now, uncle, I have a little kindness to ask of you," said Evan- 
geline, with one of her charming smiles, as she threw her aunt's 
large plaid shawl over his shoulders, and smoothed back his hair 
from his forehead. 

"And what is it, child?" asked the old gentleman, in a gentle 
tone. ' 

Evangeline knew her uncle's heart was all right. He had 
called her "child," with him the most endearing epithet, and so 
she knelt beside hiln, and said : 

" Uncle, I do wish you would go with aunty to Indianapolis, 
to-night. Now, won't you just for my sake, uncle? I cannot 
leave Louisville now, and you know she cannot travel by herself. 
And aunty is so worn out with the excitement, she really needs a 
little rest — and then her heart is so bent on going. I shall have 
to go, if you don't, and stay there with the Yankees until aunty 
gets ready to come home again. And I would sooner be in Fort 
Warren ; for then I wouldn't be annoyed by them, you know. I 
•never did like the Yankees. I would so much rather stay with 
you. Now won't you go, just for me?" and Evangeline stroked 
back the silver-threaded hair, and patted her uncle's cheek most 

" Oh, my child, I don't see how I can go, I am so busy. Heels 
over bead, scarcely time to draw my breath ; large government 


contract — must be attendetl to, and it, keeps me so busy, busy, 

''Hut you will soon be back a^ain, uncle. Only one day and 
night, and the relaxation tVnni business will do you good. I am 
sure it will, and then I shall keep such a nice house for you. I 
am to be your housekeeper while aunty's gone ! You didn't know 
that, did you ? And you r«hall have such good cottee every morn- 
ing, and such excellent dinners just wlien you please, and nice 
lunch at your store every day at eleven, and music in the evening 
to drive away care and trouble, and every thing pleasant and 
nice. Now, won't you go ? Oh, I am sure you won't say no, 

'' Oh, you women ! Evangie, you women ! How you do have 
every thing your own way ! There is no managing you at all. Ko 
wonder popr old Adam fell, if Eve was half as persuasive as you 
women are now-a-days. I am most outrageously busy, but I sup- 
pose I shall have to go, just to please you, for your aunt is bent 
on the trip, and somebody must go with her. But what will you 
do to-night? You can't stay here alone." 

'• Oh, never mind me, uncle, I can take care of myself to-night. 
I am going round to Mrs. Ludlow's, to stay with Flora liichey, a 
friend of mine from the country. Oh, I am so delighted you will 
go ! And when you get back to-morrow, you shall have every 
thing so nice, and all your own way, and you shall see what a 
good housekeeper I'll be. But there is Sarah to tell us dinner is 
ready. I had you a good, strong cup of tea made. I thought 
you would enjoy it this chilly d>y. Walk in, uncle," and Evan- 
geline assisted her uncle to rise, and led him to the dining-room. 

During dinner she chatted away so gayly, and attended to Mr. 
Terrant's wishes with such a pleasing, fascinating manner, that 
that gentleman began to feel that he had made quite a good 
arrangement in retaining Evangeline during her aunt's absence, 
even though it should cost him some present inconvenience. 

With no child of his own, it was but natural that the uncle 
should lavish his love on his young and interesting niece. Evan- 
geline was the only child of an only sister, who, at the age of six- 
teen, had married a Frenchman of some means, and who, imme- 
diately after the marriage, had taken his young wife to Pwouen, 
his native city, where misfortune after misfortune beset them, 
until they were finally left in very limited circumstances. 

When Evangeline was four yeari of age. Monsieur Lenoir died. 
His widow, gathering together as best she could the remnant of 


her bnsband's property, returned with her daughter to America. 
Two short years found Evangeline an orphan, in charge of her only 
remaining relative, Mr. Terrant. She brought as her dower a few 
liundred dollars, which her mother had scrupulously preserved for 
her, and which Mr. Terrant immediately placed at interest for the 
benefit of his niece, when she should marry or become of age. She 
was adopted into his own family, and always regarded by him as 
his own child ; and although a man of extensive business and of 
few words, yet he had found both time and means to make Evan- 
geline feel that she was beloved by him. 

"I must go to the store, child, and make my arrangements," 
said Mr. Terrant, as he rose from the table. 

"And I shall tell aunt you will be back in time to go with 
her," she said, as she followed him into the hall, holding to his 

"Yes; I will be here with a hack precisely at four o'clock. 
Have every thing ready, Evangie, so that there will be no delay." 
"Oh, yes, th;it I will. Every thing shall be aufait in time." 
Just as Mr. Terrant was about to place his hand on the door- 
knob to go out, the bell rang. Evangeline, stepping back to the 
parlor door, paused to see who it was. Mr. Terrant opened the 
door, and there stood revealed the form of Ed. Lasley. Evange- 
line caught a glimpse of it, and with one bound rushed into the 
parlor. This was the only way of escape. As she stood there 
trembling, scarce knowing what to do, she heard her uncle say: 
" How do you do to-day, Mr. Lasley ? Walk in, sir." 
"Is Miss Lenoir in?" the young man asked, as he moved for- 
ward to enter the hall. 

"Yes, she is at home, sir; walk in, walk in." 
The young man entered the hall, and encountering Pauline, who 
had gone to answer the bell, said : 

" Tell Miss Lenoir Mr. Lasley wishes to see her in the parlor." 
"I will go and see if rho is in, sir." 
" Oh, yes she is ; Mr. Terrant has just told me so." 
Evangeline waited to hear no more. Frightened at the idea of 
encountering the man who had threatened her, and whom she 
saw on the street but a few hours before in such a disgusting 
plight, she sprang into the back parlor throu/^h the ojjen door, 
and gaining the door that led into the hall, stood trembling with 
alarm. As soon as she heard the step of the young man in the 
parlor, she glided across the hall into the dining-room, and from 
thence she gained her aunt's chamber, where, locking the door 


beliind lier, slie threw herself on the couch near the window and 
hid her face in her liandti. 

"What is the matter, Miss 'Vangy?" asked Emily, who was 
busily eng.igt'd packing one of the three large trunks with her 
mistress's .^ilk dresses and laces. " You look scared to death, Miss 
'Vangy — pale as a ghost I" 

A knock was heard at the door, 

"Oh, do not let any one come in, Emily !" said Evangeline, her 
voice tremulous with fear. " Keep the door locked, do!" 

"It's only Pauline, Miss 'Vangy; don't you hear her voice?" 
and Emily turned the key and admitted her before the frightened 
girl could command her not to do it. 

"Mr. Lasley wants to see you in the parlor, Miss 'Vangy," said 
Pauline, as she approached the bedside, and stood over her young 
mistress, who had not yet dared to look up. " Here is his card, 

The young girl started up. "Tell him, Pauline, that I cannot 
see hiin ; I am engaged making preparations to go to Indianapolis 

The servant bore her young mistress's message to the parlor, and 
soon returned with one from young Lasley. 

"Mr. Lasley says he must see you. Miss 'Vangy ; he cannot 
leave the house until he does. He has something important to say 
to you, and he must see you now, directly." 

"Pauline, tell Mr. Lasley," said the young girl, trembling from 
head to foot, yet with her eye fixed steadily on the servant that 
stood awaiting her bidding, " that I cannot see him this evening; 
it is impossible. Then do you come here and finish putting your 
mistress's clothes in that trunk. It is now almost three o'clock, 
and every thing must be in readiness in a half-hour." 

"What did he say, Pauline?" asked the young girl, nervously, 
as the servant returned from the delivery of her last message to 
the visitor in the parlor. 

"He says he is going to stay here until he does see you. Miss 
'Vangy ; that he won't move one step until you come into that 

" Then he will weary of waiting," said the young girl to herself, 
as sht; rose from the couch and proceeded to attend to her aunt's 

"Lock that door, immediately, Pauline, and come here and re- 
move these things from the two drawers to that large black trunk 
by the washstand. And you and Emily make all the haste you 


can. Yon have bnt little time; the hack will be here at fonr, and 
they must not be kept waiting. This carpet-bag leave; I'll at- 
tend to it myself. Hand me those rubbers ; they must go in it. 
Put those dresses and those mantles in very smoothly, Emily ; and 
Pauline roll those underclothes very tightly." 

Evangeline having secured her aunt's jev^^elry and attended to 
the important carpet-bag, threw herself on the lounge, where she 
could superintend the operations of the two girls. Her face was 
crimson ; her heart beat tumultuously, and her temples throbbed 
violently ; yet she felt she must nerve herself to the task, cost 
what it might. What she had undertaken must be accomplished, 
and time was pressing. 

As she lay there she could occasionally hear across the hall the 
footsteps of young Lasley, as he moved about the parlor. Every 
time this noise reached her ears, she started up and looked towards 
the door. Once she heard him step out into the hall — 

"Thank God! thank God! he is going!" she said to herself, 
and suppressing her breath and ordering the two servants to be 
silent, she waited in torturing expectation for the hall door to open. 
But the young man, after walking to the front door and looking out 
through the side-lights, returned to the parlor and resumed his seat. 

"Why don't you go in now, Miss 'Vaugy, to see Mr. Lasley? 
Me an Emily can tinish these trunks in time. And you see he is 
not going until he does see you." 

"Attend to your own busines>, Pauline, and finish those trunks! 
I do not wish to see Mr. Lasley this evening, and do not intend to 
do it." 

"Oh! if he should remain here until my aunt returns ! What 
shall I do? I cannot explain this thing to her now, and she will 
be all curious to know about it. Oh, I do wish he would go ! 
What a simpleton to be sitting up there, thinking he will force me 
to come! I wouldn't go into that parlor now if I suffered death 
for it! Half an hour he has been here already; he must possess 
sjme patience to set up there all that time alone." 

"This trunk is as full as it will hold, Miss 'Vangy." 

"And have you put in all the handsome dresses, and the man- 
tles, and aunt's velvet cloak?" 

"Yes, mam," 

"Well, set it to one side — help her there, Pauline — and then go 
up stairs, Einily, and look in my room and bring your Mi=s Cecilia's 
large travelling shawl and that cloth cloak; she may wish them 
both. Go the back way." 


AGT.'iin Evun^'C'liiie heard tlie footfall in the hall, and again she 
started up and listened breathlessly. The younjr man repeated the 
same act of going to the door, peeping out, and then returning, 
walked into the parlor and strode across the room. 

'*IIe is growing restless," said Evangeline to herself. "lie will 
go after awhile; another half-hour!" and she again took out her 
watch to consult the time. "Another half-hour and his patience 
must be exhausted. God grant he may leave before my aunt 

Fifteen minutes more had passed. The trunks were ready for 
strapping. Again the footfall was heard in the hall. It passed. 

" Thank God — thank God ! he is gone at last!" exclaimed Evan- 
geline, as she heard the hall door open. Siie sprang to the window 
to see him pass out. She waited a moment, wondering why he 
did not descend the steps. She heard the door close. "Now he 
is gone, surely !" She pressed her face against the glass to catch 
a glimpse of his figure; a moment more and she heard the same 
detested footfall enter the parlor. Looking towards the front gate, 
she discovered her aunt alighting from her carriage! 

"What shall I do! what shall I do!" she said, wringing her 
hands in agony. "There is aunty, and that simpleton is still in 
the parlor ! What will she say when she learns he has been here 
an hour, and I have not been in to see him ? I have a great mind 
to go in now — no, I won't. He shall not conquer me by his rude- 
ness. Maybe he'll have sense enough to keep quiet, and aunty 
will be in such haste that she will not find out he is here. She 
has onlv fifteen minutes. Oh, what will those fifteen minutes de- 

"Unlock that door, Emily, and open the hall door, and tell aunty 
as soon as she comes in that all her trunks are ready. Pauline, go 
and bring those packages from the driver. Did you leave room 
for them in the brown trunk?" 

"Yes, mam!" 

"All things ready, Evangie?" said Mrs. Terrant, bursting into 
the room. I have but fifteen minutes. Your uncle will be here 
in that time with a carriage, and he says I must not keep him wait- 
ing a moment. He is going with me, he told me. Bring my large 
shawl, Emily." 

"Here it is, aunty, and your cloak too." 

"I shall want them both. I will wear the cloak, and Mr. Ter- 
rant can take the shawl on his arm. I shall need it to-night. The 
whole town is in an uproar, Evangeline, about General Bragg's 


corning. Oh ! I am so glad I am getting away from it. I should 
go crazy to stay here a week longer. Here, Evangeline, you put 
these things in the trunk, will you, where they won't get mashed. 
There are soine ruches and flowers in that box ; I could not get my 
bonnet trimmed in time, so I bought the materials and will have 
it done in Indianapolis. Shop-keepera, milliners, mantua-makers 
— everybody — are beside themselves. If you had seen Mr. Lasley 
I would take you with me just as you are, and let your trunks be 
sent after you. Tell him, Evangeline, that the marriage must be 
postponed a month, until all this noise and confusion are over. It 
would be impossible to give you a wedding under such circum- 

'•Sit down, aunty, and rest a moment; you look so flurried. You 
are ready now." 

"Every thing in the trunks? "Well, th.en, strap them, and tell 
Harry to take them out to the front gate. Did you put me up a 
snack, Evangeline? I may not get any supper." 

" Ni) ; but I can in a moment." 

*' Some bread and cheese, child, and some of that cold ham with 
a few pickles. Where is my palm fan? I may need it. I be- 
lieve it is in the parlor;" and Mrs. Terrant rose from her seat to 
get it, as no servant was present to wait on her. 

Evangeline, who heard her words and saw her movement through 
the open door, bounded into the room — 

Oh, aunty, do sit still ! I will get it for you. See, your col- 
lar is on wrong side out; change it, while I get the fan." 

She was about to cross the hall to encounter young Lasley in 
the parlor, when Emily came in from assisting Henry with the 

" Aunt's palm fan, Emily, in the parlor — not a word for your 

" It's in the back parlor, Miss 'Yangy; I saw it there when I 
cleaned up the room this morning." 

'' Get it quickly — not a word about Mr. Lasley ! Do you hear ?" 

*' Yes, mam," replied the girl, whose wonder was every moment 
increased by her young mistress's strange movements. 

Evangeline hastened to the dining-room, and with the assistance 
of Sarah, the cook, soon returned with a nice package of edibles, 
which she deposited in her aunt's travelling basket. 

"There's your uncle with the carriage. Write me, Evangeline, 
at least three letters a week — and don't forget to tell Mr. Lasley 
about the postponement. And attend to the silver. Emily, you 


and Pauline do what your Miss ' Vangie tells you, and behave your- 
selves." And Mrs. Tenant walked rapidly out into the hall, fol- 
lowed by her niece and the two servants. 

" Oh ! will he come out?" asked Evangeline to herself. '' If he 
will only stay a few moments longer, all will be safe." 

But the young man, who knew full well how kindly Mrs. Terrant 
had treated him, was determined to retaliate, if possible, on the 
young lady who had left him waiting one long, weary hour to 
catch a gUmpse at her person. 

And — oh, horrors! — -just as Mrs. Terrant stepped into the hall 
from the room door, he issued from the opposite one and bade her 
and Evangeline good-evening, and taking his hat from the rack, 
proceeded to accompany them to the carriage. 

'' Evangie has told you that I am going to Indianapolis to-night, 
Mr. Lasley? Scared away by the Confederates." 

''Tills is the first glimpse I have caught of Miss Evangie this 
evening, Mrs. Terrant." 

" Oh I but a short time in, and Evangie has been so busy." 

"■Have been in the parlor an bour and twenty minutes." 

The aunt looked at ber niece wi>nderingly. The girl colored, 
but made no reply. 

'' Found Evangie very busy this evening, Mr. Lasley ? But I 
suppose she has had time to say all that was neceamry ^'' remarked 
Mr. Terrant, jocularly. 

"I have just this moment seen her for the first time, Mr. Ter- 
rant," rei)lied the young man surlily. 

The uncle cast a penetrating glance on Evangeline. The rose 
on her cheek blushed itself to crimson. She was about to say to 
her uncle that she had been so busy as to prevent her appearance 
in the parlor; but conscience interfered and saved her the sin of 
prevarication, and smiling a forced smile, she remained silent. 

"Evangie is very tired now, Mr. Lasley, and I know cannot 
prove interesting; so you had better take a seat with us and drive 
down to the hotel," and Mr. Terrant placed the packages so as to 
give the young man a comfortable seat. ''We have not a momen*' 
to lose ; it is now four o'clock," said Mr. T., consulting his 
watch. '' Come, Mrs. Terrant, let me assist you in ; and you, Mr. 

The aunt hade Evangeline farewell, whispering in her ear as shv 
kissed her, " Don't forget to speak to Mr. Lasley about the post- 
ponement," and stepped into the carriage. The young man hesi 


" Just as well ride, Mr. Lasley," said Mrs. Terrant as she dis- 
covered his pause. 

Turning to Evangeline he said, "I shall call and see you at six. 
Where shall I find you ?" 

" Not at lionie," was the low reply. 

" Very well !" he remarked, mistaking her answer, and putting 
his foot in the step, entered and closed the door. 

"Good-by, my child; I shall be back to-morrow, without an 
accident," called out her uncle as the carriage drove ott'. 




EvANGF.LiNE hastened t() her f»\vn room. Closing the door, slie 
threw lierself on the bed and gave way to tlie pent-np excitement 
of the day in a flood of weeping. It was the outbreak of the tem- 
pest that had been silently gathering together its mighty ftjrces. 
She wept long and bitterly as she thought of all she had endured 
— all she must yet meet ; and as she looked out upon the responsi- 
bilities of the coming two weeks, she shuddered and recoiled as 
one who contemplates a fearful doom. How strange, how wildly 
strange, to her was her present position ! She who had been the 
petted child of fi»rtune — who had lived so dependent on others, and 
who, hedged about by kind protection, had never felt otherwise than 
safe from all danger, free from all care ! It was the turning-point 
in her life. She had now assumed to act for herself, was about to 
cut adrift from the old moorings and launch out on an unknown 
sea. Should she succeed, was the question she asked herself; for 
she did not for a moment swerve from her purpose. 

'' It is for Harry," she said ; " and whether or not I am success- 
ful, I must make the attempt. For his sake I will encounter 
every obstacle, endure every trial, meet every reproach. He is 
worthy of all this on my part, and I shall not show myself 
unworthy of him. If I accomplish my purposes, I secure my hap- 
pjpess for life ; if I fail, I have done my duty — all — all I could — 
and this, poor as it is, will be some consolation to me amid ray 
grief and helplessness. If I do not marry Harry, I shall have to 
marry Lasley. My aunt is determined on it. But — no — I cannot 
do it! Rather than do this, I will forever immure myself in a 
convent, where, shut out from the world, I can cherish my own 
sorrows, indulge my lifelong grief. Oh, should Hairy fail to 
Cijcape ! should he be shot, or die in prison ! Then — then — what 
then ! God grant he may get out safely !" she ejaculated aloud, 
as the thought of his death swept through her mind. 

"A life of dark trial mine has been. Fatherless, motherless — 
no brother, no sister — an orphan alone in the wide world. And 



yet my uncle and aunt liave been kind to me — but tliey could n<it 
lo^e me as my poor mother — they could never under^jtand my 
heart as she could have done. Oh, no one can love us like a 
mother — none enter into our joys or sorrows as she — none forgive 
like her own tender heart. Alone, alone, I have been — alone, 
alone, I am now. None truly loves me but Harry, and he loves 
me with all my faults; he knows them all, and loves me still! and 
shall I not risk every thing for him ? dare every thing to remove 
him from the hands of his cruel enemies ? Yes, yes, if I perish in 
the attempt, I'll try it ! I will not shrink now, that dangers seem 
to surround me on every side ; I'll nerve this heart of mine to 
bear all things, that I may accomplish my purpose!" and she 
sprang from tlie bed, and dashed away her tears, her large black 
eyes flushed with the fires of her invincible resolve. 

The clock struck the half-hour. 

"I must not weep now — no time for tears] Action, action, 
demands my thoughts, my time, my efforts. I have a great work 
to perform, and I must lay aside my grief — 'tis but a weakness to 
weep, when duty calls to exertion. Five o'clock, and I must be 
at Mrs, Ludlow's. What if my plan should be discovered ? But, 
no ! this cannot be — they will think it a mistake of the shopman. 
But I will be there in time." 

Throwing back her hair, Evangeline bathed her face until the 
throbbing of her brain was partially allayed, then combing the 
rich masses of her black hair, she changed her dress for a dark 
blue silk, and throwing on her hat and a black silk paletot, she 
descended to her aunt's room to give directions to the servants 
about closing the house for the night, telling them she would not 
return until the following morning, at ten o'clock. 

" Be careful, Emily ; see that none of the windows are left 
open, and shut the conservatory doors — it will be cold to night. 
And poor little Blanche, give her her supper and breakfast, and 
put her to sleep in your room," she added, caressing the little 
poodle that just then sprang up at her side, and commenced jump- 
ing around, as if by its gambols it wished to drive the sad, weary 
look from the face of its young mistress. 

"Po(^r Blanche!" said Evangeline, stooping, and taking up the 
pet in her arms. "You are so happy, and my poor heart is break- 

" You do look so tired. Miss 'Vangy," said Emily to her young 
mistress, as she came from the dining-room into Mrs. Terrant's 
room, where Evangeline was standing with the poodle, smoothing 


its sofr, white hair. ''You ain't going to walk round to Miss 
Ludlow's? Let me tell Henry to bring the carriage, he hasn't put 
it away yet — stopped to eat his dinner first." 

" If the carriage is ready, Emily, Henry may bring it round, 
for I atn very weary. But I have no time to lose, I must be at 
Mrs. Ludlow's at five, and it now wants only ten minutes of the 
hour. See to it immediately, Emily." 

The girl left the room ; in a moment she returned to inform 
her young mistress that Henry was driving round to the front 

" Don't forget what I have told you, Emily. Attend carefully 
to Blanche," she said, handing the dog to her. Tlien seeing tiiat 
the shutters were closed, she passed through the front hall, fol- 
lowed by the girl. 

" Is this a card of Mr. Lasley, Miss 'Vangy," and Emily handed 
the young girl an envelope, which she had just picked up near the 

Evangeline took it, and reaching the hall door, paused to look 
at the superscription. She recognized the handwriting of Lasley, 
and saw the note was directed to a young gentleman of Bards- 
town, a fast young man, but a particular friend and intimate asso- 
ciate of Lasley. Evangeline also discovered that it had been 
recently penned, and that it was unsealed. Her curiosity was 
excited, but without waiting to give the subject further consider- 
ation, she slipped the missive into her pocket, and hastened to the 

In a few minutes she was at Mrs. Ludlow's door. Alighting 
from the carriage, she rang the bell nervously. A servant ushered 
her into the parlor, where sat Mrs. Richey and her daughter, and 
several lady visitors. They were all strangers to Evangeline save 
Mrs. Dumfries, who was formerly an intimate friend of her aunt ; 
bat differing very widely in political sentiment, the two had 
ceased their friendly visits, and were now so estranged as scarcely 
to recognize each other in meeting. 

After the introduction, Evangeline took a seat by this lady, anc\ 
the two engaged in conversation. In answer to Mrs. Dumfries 
inquiry for Mrs. Terrant's health, Evangeline replied that hei- 
aunt's health was good, but that, still suffering from nervousness, 
she had allowed herself to be scared away by the Southerners." 

" And you did not go with her, Evangie ? Didn't yo j feel afraid 
of the '^ reheU f "'' asked Mrs. Dumfries, with some surprise. 

"Oh, no, madam; I am not afraid of Southern people. I am 


Southern myself. I wisli General Bragg would come and take 
possession of the city, and release us all from Yankee rule, I am so 
tired of it." 

"Your aunt is violently opposed to that, isn't she?" asked Mrs. 
Dumfries, smiling; "and your uncle, too?" 

"Aunt is Union; uncle says but little about it. He thinks the 
whole thing is wrong, both parties are to blame, and wishes the 
war would end. Do you think, Mrs. Dumfries, that it is possible 
for General Bragg to come to Louisville?" Evangeline asked, the 
earnestness of her voice attesting the deep interest she felt. 

"It is possible, Evangeline, I think, but perhaps not probable. 
Unionists are dreadfully alarmed. The rumor this evening is that 
he is marching direct upon our city with a force of seventy-five 
thousand veteran troops. If this be true, he can take the place 
without trouble. The troops already here and those that are 
pouring in hourly, are wholly undisciplined, and could make but 
poor resistance to such an army. I have never seen such intense 
excitement as prevails in the city. The Union men don't know 
what to do, those I mean who are informed and capable of judg- 
ing of matters. They are moving all their valuables to Jefferson- 
ville and New Albany. General Nelson, I understand, has ordered 
all the heaviest guns across the river, to be placed in position to 
shell the city, in the event Bragg comes. He says he will contest 
every inch of ground, and if driven across the river he will shell 
the city from the opposite side ; that not one stone shall be left 
on another, if the rebels get the place." 

"General Nelson is a very rash man, Mrs. Dumfries," remarked 
Mrs. Sedgwick; "I have known him from his boyhood. There is 
a great deal of bluster about him. I do not regard his threats 
with much terror." 

" The only fear is his extreme recklessness," said Mrs. Miller ; 
" I judge, from what I have learned of his character, that he is a 
desperado, and would not hesitate to do any thing that would sub- 
serve his purposes," 

" But even if he were crazy enough to attempt to execute his 
threat, I feel confident his own party would not allow him to do 
it. Union men are more avaricious than patriotic, and will never 
be willing to be reduced to poverty, even to support their 'best 
government in the world,'" replied Mrs. Dumfries. "I feel no 
fear that General Nelson will either burn or shell the city. He 
would be murdered on the streets first by his own party." 

After some minutes' conversation on the all-absorbing theme of 


the war, the ladies rose to leave. As they gained the hall, the 
door-bell runj^. Evangeline consulted her watch. It was tit'teen 
minutes after five. Stepping out with the departing visitors, she 
encountered t^ shop-man's errand-boy at the door bearing the 
package of clotliing. 

"This is for me, Flora," she said hastily to the young girl beside 
her. ** Have it taken to your room. It is addressed to you, you 
see. I will explain all after awhile." 

Flora ordered the servant to receive the roll and carry it to her 
room up stairs. The two girls very soon followed. Evangeline 
in a very few words explained her plan to Flora. 

"■I know you will not betray me. Flora," she said, as she fin- 
ished her hasty recital. " It may not succeed, and should it not, 
you can readily perceive the necessity of the most profound se- 
cresy. Put that package away where it will meet no one's eye, 
not even your mother's. Flora. I will have it taken home to- 
morrow. I did not know when I ordered it that my aunt would 
be absent when it was sent, or I should have directed it carried 
home. But I have to be very cautious; one misstep, and the 
whole matter is thwarted. Oh, you cannot tell what anxiety I 
feel. I am almost wild. Flora." 

"I should think so, Evangeline. But how I regret I did not 
propose something of this kind to my cousin. Mother gave liira 
money, and told him to escape if possible and come to us. Per- 
haps if the two could have concerted together it would have been 
better for both." 

'' And they may yet do it, Flora. They observed that we 
knew each other. This will doubtless lead to a friendly conversa- 
tion, which may result in some understanding on their part." 

"I sincerely hope for this, Evangie. In a matter of escape no 
prisoner would trust another unless he knew him well." 

"Can't you convey your cousin a note privately, Flora?" 

''This is impossible. There is no visiting permitted until next 
Thursday, and your friend is to escape on Sunday, didn't you tell 

"Sunday night; but, oh, Flora, if he should fail! Isn't it 
dreadful to think of!" 

'• He would be in a worse condition than now, Evangie." 

" Oh, lie might be shot and killed ! You do not know how dan- 
gerous it is to attempt to get out. These Dutch guards are so 
heartless. They don't hesitate a moment to shoot a man down 
if he otfends them in the least thing. Uow many have been shot 


at Camp Chase for mere trivialities. Oh, I shudder to think if 
Harry should meet this sad fate. I should never cease to upbraid 
myself for his death!" and the excited girl covered her face with 
her hands and burst into tears. ^ 

"We must hope for better things, Evangie. You know a great 
many escape unhurt," said Flora, cheerfully, endeavoring to wia^ 
'her young friend from her grief. 

Tea came. Evangeline felt no disposition to eat. Her head 
ached violently, and to her highly nervous agitation had succeeded 
a most depressing languor. Yet she felt she must make her ap- 
pearance at table, and summoning all her fortitude, and assuming 
a gayety entirely foreign to her feelings, she descended the stairs 
with Flora to the supper-room. 

The topic of the tea-table chat was, of course, the movement of 
the Southern army into Kentucky, and the preparations for defence. 
Various were the opinions expressed relative to the final issue of the 
invasion, each one being biased in his judgment by desire and fear. 

While sitting at the table the bell rang. The servant soon re- 
turned bearing a card, which she handed to Evangeline. The 
young girl looked at it for a moment. Her color rose to her very 
temples, and her hand trembled with agitation. She appeared 
confused, irresolute. Turning to the servant, she said, in a low 
tone, "• Tell the gentleman I am at tea." 

The girl bowed and bore the message to the parlor. 

Evangeline sat and sipped her tea, joining in the conversation 
whenever it seemed necessary for her to do so ; but her manner 
was constrained, and her words devoid of interest. She plead 
headache for her want of hfe and animation, and Mrs. Ludlow in- 
sisted she should take a second cup of tea, which, however, she 
declined, remarking " That tea did not often benefit her headache." 

Excusing herself before the family arose, she hastened to the 
room alone, and, taking a pencil from her pocket, wrote a few words 
hurriedly on the card, and laid it on the stand beside her to await 
the coming of a servant to bear it to the parlor. Then, as if sud- 
denly recollecting the note which Emily had found in the hall at 
home and handed her, she fi)rthand approached the burner 
as if to read it. In doing so she passed the mirror. Casting a 
glance into it, she started back at her flushed and wild appearance. 

" No wonder the children at tlie supper-table stared at me so," 
she said, as she took a second look; "really, the Witch of Endor 
could not have appeared more frightful !"' 

Standing beneath the gas-light, she held the missive in her hand, 

OF mokga'n and his men. 319 

as if uncertain whether or Dot to rend it. Opening it after a min- 
ute, she glanced over its contents. Siie saw in the second line her 
name, and just below it that of Harry Roberts. 

'*It concerns me, and Providence has thrown it in my way. I 
•will read it!" and seating herself on the sofa, she ran rapidly over 
the first page. 

'' The wretch !" she exclaimed to herself, " does he call this love ? 
No, no! he shall never have the satisfaction of executing his low, 
base threat. 1 will release Harry, or die in the effort! But, be 
liis — never, never! I shall neither be threatened, forced, or ca- 
joled into marrying a man whom I detest. How strange that I 
should ever have fancied I loved this coarse, heartless man — this 
man who seem^ bent on my destruction, merely to gratify his pique! 
He shall never have to boast that he conquered Evangeline Le- 
noir!'' she said, as she arched her neck, and cast a look of con- 
tem{)tuous defiance on the sheet she held in her hand. "Ah, ha! 
a very fine plan, indeed!" she said, curling her lip in bitter scorn, 
as she read the second page. " He may succeed in 'putting Harry 
Roberts out of the way,' but never in 'leading the proud girl to 
the altar.'" 

She read the epistle a second time carefully, then folded it in the 
envelope. "A very dishonorable act under other circumstances, 
but, in me, inexcusable now. Thank God! I know his plans, they 
shall be thwarted. He cannot, shall not succeed." 

Ste[>[)ing to the stand, she was about to add something to her 
reply. She stood thoughtful for a moment, then, putting the- pen- 
cil back into her pocket, she threw the letter on the stand with 
the card. 

In a few minutes, the servant entered the room bearing a pitch- 
er of water. 

"Girl, take that note and card to the young gentleman in the 
parlor, and then return and let me know what he says," she added, 
as the servant was leaving the room. 

" The young gentleman didn't say any thing, miss," said the girl, 
opening the door and peeping in. "He looked very mad, ma'am, 
when he read the note, and took his iiat and went out." 

"Very well, girl; where is Miss Flora?" 

"In the parlor, ma'am. She told me to tell you to excuse her; 
an old friend had called to see her, and she would be in the parlor 
some time." 

"It is all perfectly right. Tell Miss Flora I would prefer to be 
alone, my head aches so." 


The girl passed out, closing the door behind her. Evangeline 
threw herself into the large arm-chair that stood beside her, and 
burying her face in her hands, wept aloud. 

01), the agony, the utter desolateness of that moment! There 
are times in the history of every heart, when tlie sorrows of life 
crush out for a time every hope, every desire. How wild and 
meaningless existence then seems! We shrink from the very 
thought of our own being, and unless the soul can lift the eye of 
faith to the source whence cometh all consolation, it sinks into the 
dread wish for annihilation. Life! strange, enigmatical life ! who 
can fathom thy mysteries? 

Evangeline wept and wept. The fountain of tears was unsealed 
and gushed forth in unceasing torrents. No power of will could 
check them. Sobbing, she threw herself on the sofa, and in a 
paroxysm of anguisli lay like one bereft of reason. iJer brain 
burnt as with fire, and her heart throbbed almost to bursting. 
She clasped her hands despairingly, and looked up as if implor- 
ing aid. 

"Oh! God pity me!" she exclaimed, "pity me, pity me! and 
bring relief to my poor breaking heart!" 

A half hour passed. Evangeline was still weeping. Her sobs 
and moans, so low and piteous, were sad to hear. Flora Pticl)(;y 
entered the room. Going to the sofa, she threw her arms around 
the pn)^trate form and said soothingly, " Do not weep so, Evangie. 
It will all come right." 

The young girl opened her eyes and put out her arms to chisp 
the neck of her friend, but they fell powerless at her side, and the 
large black orbs closed again, while her whole countenance took 
upon it a look of unutterable woe. 

Flora bathed the hot brow and chafed the cold haiids, and poured 
into the distracted ear tender, loving words. But many an hour 
passed before the tried heart found peace in sleep. 

Friday and Saturday were days of restless anxiety, and conflict- 
ing doubts and hopes. On Friday night, Mr. Terrant returned 
from Indianapolis, and the vocation that Evangeline had assumed, 
that of housekeeper, gave her employment which served measura- 
bly to win her from her trouble. Young Lasley did not call again 
during the time. Evangehne hoped that her note had convinced 
him that his visits were no longer acceptable. 

Sabbath morning came. Evangeline prepared for church. Her 
uncle was to accompany her. She was donning her bonnet and 
paletot when the door-bell rang violently. "Who can that be?" 


she said, as slie sprung to the window ty h;ok out. She could not 
discern who it was, but she coidd perceive it was a man. Her 
heart misgave her. Breathlessly she awaited the servant's ap- 

"Mr. Lasley is in the parlor. Miss 'Vangie. Called to see if 
you are going to church this morning," 

"Tell Mr. Lasley 1 have company, Emily, and he must excuse 

"Has he left, Emily?" she asked of the servant, who returned 
to announce that the carriage was at the door. 

'*^o, ma'am; he says he'll go with master." 

"Go and tell him, Emih% that your master is going with me in 
the carriage. I have borne this insolence long enough," she said, 
passionately, to herself. " I will bear it no longer. lie cannot be 
insulted. He is determined to have his own way in this matter, 
and make me yield in order that he may show his power. But if 
he has governed his old aunt all the days of his life, he shall not 
govern me. If he wishes to go with my uncle he can do so, but 
he shall not go with me." 

" Wliat does lie say now, Emily ?" 

"He didn't say any thing, Miss 'Vangie." 

" And did he leave ?" 

" No, ma'am 5 he is still sitting in the parlor." 

'' And where is my uncle ?" 

"In his room, ma'am; he doesn't know Mr. Lasley is in the 

" What shall I do ?" she asked lierself, perplexed at her disagree- 
able position; "if I decline going, uncle will think it so strange, 
and I cannot go with this man." 

She bowed her head in her hand as she stood by the bureairand 
thought for a moment. Then rapidly descending the stairway, siie 
knocked at her uncle's door. In answer to Mr. Terrant's "come 
in," she entered, and approaching the window where her uncle was 
standing, she said : 

"Uncle, Mr. Lasley is in the parlor — came to go with me to 
church. Wiiat sliall I do ?" - 

" Go, child ; of course you could not refuse, could you ?" 

•* But, uncle, I do not wish to do so. You know persons always 
talk so mucii when a young lady is seen with a gentleman at 
church in the forenoon 1" and Evangeline, despite hersell', blushed 

"Oh, well, child," said the indulgent uncle, "if you do not wish 


to go with young Lasley ; but I can't see why you don't. Bat 
you women are strange creatures any how ! You needn't do it; 
lie can walk with me and you can go in the carriage." 

" That is the very plan, uncle ! Please go in the parlor and 
take him with you. See here, I am not ready to go just now. He 
will understand it." 

The unsuspecting uncle did as he was bid. 

" Girls are very modest creatures anyhow you know, Mr. Las- 
ley," said he to the young man, after explaining the matter to him 
as delicately as he could. "All right, I sui)po>e ; the strange crea- 
tures must have their own way. No accounting for their whims." 

Lasley bowed assent, but he by no means received the case as 
did his more elderly friend. Not knowing, however, how to object 
to the proposition, nor to refuse the polite invitation to accompany 
Mr. Terraut, he tound himself reduced to the extremity of seeming 
to indorse the one and to accept the other. 

Evangeline waited until she thought the gentlemen had reached 
the church, then taking the carriage she drove round for Mary 
Lawrence, whom she found already gone. 

After services, Evangeline and Mary hastened out of the church 
so as to avoid observation, and drove home quite in advance of 
Mr. Terrant. 

"I do wonder if he will return with my uncle!" said Evange- 
line, as the two girls seated themselves in the carriage. ''Look 
yonder, Mary, do! he is with him, and I wager he will be bold 
enough to come to take dinner with us. If he should, what will I 

"Oh! treat him with freezing politeness, Evangeline." 

'''•Politeness^ indeed ! I do not believe I could tolerate his pres- 
ence for a moment. I do not know why I should feel such utter 
dislike to one whom I so short a time ago fancied I admired ; but, 
Mary, he has haunted me so — has manifested such entire destitu- 
tion of all noble sentiment, that I am filled with disgust when I 
contemplate his character." 

The two girls reached home and entered the parlor to wait for 
Mr. Terrant. In a few minutes he entered the room alone, and 
bidding Mary good-day, seated himself beside her. 

" Where is Mr. Lasley, Mr. Terrant?" asked Mary, smiling. 

" Oh, he has gone to the hotel, I suppose. Why, girls, how re 
miss 1 was ; I did not think to invite him to dine with us to-day. 
He remarked to me, too, that he would call this evening at foui 


Tlie girls exclianged meaning glances. 

" What have you two heen doing, girls, that you had to run 
away from cliurch so hastily to-day ? I strove to overtake you, 
and thus caused me to forget to ask Mr. Lasley to dinner. You 
are after something wrong, Evangie, child ; I see it in your face. 
Haven't you a guilty conscience on some subject? Come, tell me 
what it is you are about. Some prank I warrant." 

"No prank in the Avorld, uncle!" replied the young girl, blu-h- 
iog as she spoke. 

"Something is going on, child, with regard to Lasley that isn't 
right. He has been here twice and you have refused to see him. 
Be careful — a man won't bear a woman's whims always !" 

" But, uncle, I was so busy on Thursday ; how could I see any 
one?" • 

"And then this morning, Evangie" — 

" Well, I gave you my reason, uncle. Now, be candid, wasn't 
it a very good one ?" 

" Oh, modest and plausible enough ; but if your Aunt Cecilia had 
been so chary when we were courting, we should never have been 
married, I can tell you, child! I couldn't have stood all these 
new-fashioned ideas of modesty ; they would have run me crazy." 

" Oh ! but times have changed since then, Mr. Terrant, haven't 
they ?" remarked Mary Lawrence, laughing, as she rose to follow 
Evangeline to her room. 

" Yes, yes; and for the worse, Mary. I'm sure of that." 

" Oh ! no, no, Mr. Terrant," remonstrated Mary, as she turned 
in the doorway to reply. "You know this is an age of improve- 
ment in all things." 

"Well, well, may be so; you women will always have things 
your own way," said Mr. Terrant, bowing deferentially. Mary re- 
turned the bow with a most bewitching smile on her sweet, sad 
face, and passed with Evangeline up the stairway. 

"I am going out with Mary awhile this^vening," said Evange- 
line to her uncle, as they returned to the parlor after dinner. 
" You will wish to take your siesta^ and should Mr. Lasley come 
before I return — but of course he will not — tell Emily to tell bim 
wiiere I have gone, and he can call at Mrs. Purdy's and see us 


" Oh ! 'Vangie, child ! this will not do. Lasley will feel himself 
insulted. You will lose him, child, I tell you you will. Better 
stay at home till he comes, and then he can walk round with you 


'• Oh, uncle! but '.ve may have to wait all the evening. They 
dine very late at the hotel, and then Mr. Lasley will have to enjoy 
a cigar, and afttr this a nap ; so you see he is not likely to be 
around before dark ; and even if he should couie earlier, it is a 
pleasant little walk round to Mrs. Purdy's, and I know he wishes 
to see Mary, any how. Moreover, uncle, I made this engagement 
with Mary to meet a friend of ours several days ago." 

" And I cannot well release Evangie, Mr. Terrant. I am sure 
Mr. Lasley will excuse us for not awaiting his arrival when he is 
made to understand the circumstances." 

"Well, well, you girls will have every thing your own way! 
Noiise for me to inlerlere in Lasley's behalf. If he should come 
— and he told me he would — I shall have to send him round to 
see you." 

'• Do, Mr. Terrant, if you please ! you will confer a favor on us." 

•' And, uncle, should I fail to be back at ten, won't you tell 
Uenry to drive round for us ? We may not have any company to 
church to-night." 

"" Better tell Pauline, child. You know I am so forgetful about 
these little matters." 

Evangeline rung the bell, gave Pauline the necessary instruc- 
tions, then bidding her uncle good-evening, set out with Mary 
Lawrence lor Mrs. Purdy's. 

Fifteen minutes to four. The two yonng girls, deeply veiled, 
descended the foot steps to the street and directed their way to the 
prison. As they walked rapidly along, they encountered several 
of their friends, but they passed them by without recognition, lest 
they should be betrayed. Street ai'ter street was quickly jiassed, 
the' two girls scarcely daring to interchange a word. Just as thoy 
were turning the corner of Third and Green, they met Mr. Rubens 
in front of the custom-huuse. He paused as if about to speak. 
Evangeline trembled as she felt herself recognized; but the gen- 
tleman, after casting his eye vacantly up and down the pavement, 
proceeded in his walk. 

" How sad and disturbed Mr. Roberts looks I" wlii>pered Mary 
to her friend. 

*• I am afraid something has befallen Harry," was the tremulous 
reply of Evangehne. 

'• I wonder," she said, after a short pause, "■ if he has been to 
the prison ! May be Harry is sick — has gone away !" she added 
slowly, as if afraid to give voice to her own apprehension. 

A few moments more and the two had reached the prison. 

OF MaKGx\:; a^d ius men. 325 

Evangeline timidly raised her ihick veil and looked hurriedly up 
and down Green, and in and out Fifth-street. But few per- 
sons were passing. The guard kept watch in front of tiie great 
closed gates that opened on Green. A solitary sentinel paced 
back and forth on Fifth-street. lie was a youth, pleasant, 
friendly, and genteel in his bearing. After taking this furtive 
survey, Evangeline cast her eye up to the designated window. 
There stood a prisoner. Was it Robert-? She looked again. 
Tiie prisoner bowed, and she knew it was Harry ! 

"Mar}-, you cross the street and engage tlie sentinel in conver- 
sation, while I stand here to receive the signal. Ask him any 
thing, Mary, any thing; whether the prisoners receive company, 
and when ; if they behave themselves pretty well ? You know 
what to do, Mary. Go, go! we will arouse suspicion if we 
remain longer here !" 

Mary quickly crossed over, and throwing aside her thick 
mourning veil, approached towards the guard. She paused as 
soon as she found sl^ had attracted his attention. This she did 
that he, in advancing to meet her, might leave Evangeline stand- 
ing on the opposite side, at his back. The man raised his cap as 
his eye fell on tiie graceful form and beautiful face of the young 
girl before him. Mary bowed, and spoke pleasantly but modestly, 
and commenced to question him, as Evangeline had suggested. 

Evangeline stepped forward, so as to i)lace herself directly in 
front of the window where the prisoner stood. She waved her 
handkerchief, and strained her eyes for the answering signal. A 
moment passed. Oh, what a moment of suspense that was to 
the expectant heart of the young girl, as she stood there gazing 
upward towards that window ! It came. The prisoner's right 
hand was raised, placed on his brow, then drawn slowly across 
his face, and rested on his shoulder. It was the indication of suc-^ 
cess that Evangeline had proposed. 

She stood as one bewildered, stupefied, under the rush of her 
wdd emotion. Harry would be free— a few short hours would 
restore him to liberty and to her! The tht.nghr was intoxicating. 
Yet another sign was needed : the hour must be designated. She 
raised and gently waved it a second time. The prisoner bowed 
understandingly. Evangeline sent; up another eager, fixed look. 
The left hand was raided, then slowly lowered. This gesture was 
repeated eight times. '' Kme o'clock," said Evangeline to herself. 
Then r;!i>ing her left hand s!ie repeated the action of the prisoner 
niu9 ti!:'-s. As her hand fell the last time, the prisoner bowed 


twice, and turned from the window. It was tlie work of but a 
minute, and yet what mighty results to these two young hearts 
hung on its fleeting moments ! 

" Tliank God! thank God!" exclaimed Evangeline, "Harry 
will be safe!" She said no more, but turned to look for Mary. 
As she turned she encountered Captain Fred. Morton. She had 
forgotten to lower her veil, and was recognized. She started 
back as if she had met a spectre. The captain bowed politely, 
and i)asse(l on. 

"Mary!" she called, unconscious of what she did. "Mary, 
Mary, do come on." 

" She was ready to sink under her-agitation. Had she been 
discovered by this Federal officer? Had she? And if so, what 
would be the result? But Harry is safe, she said. Thank God 
he is not implicated, and as regards myself, I defy Fred. Morton 
and all the Yankee hosts ; they won't dare to annoy me. 

Mary responded to her call, and came tripping across the street 
dehghted that she had acted her part so well in the fearful drama. 
Just as she reached the pavement, on which Evangeline was 
standing, she met young Morton face to face. She bowed coldly, 
and as he passed stiffly by, Mary thought she saw on liis face a 
sinister smile. It was the first time they had met in weeks. She 
had persistently avoided him on all occasions, wliich avoidance he 
had deeply felt. H^ loved her devotedly — hopelessly he knew, 
yet he could not conquer his affection. And he felt a constant 
pique that he should at all times be the recipient of marked 

" "Will Harry get out, Evangeline ? but I need not ask, I read 
his escape in your face." 

" Yes, yes, Mary, he will soon be free. The signals were all 
right, and to-night at nine o'clock he will meet me at the First 
Presbyterian Church." 

''Oh! Evangeline, we are betrayed, betrayed!" exclaimed 
Mary, grasping the arm of her young friend. " I am sure we are. 
Fred. Morton has seen it all — knows it all. "We have nothing to 

" "Why do you think so, Marv ? Did vou see him observing 
us ?" 

" Oh, no! I was busy talking to the guard. But I read it in 
the expression of his face as he passed me. His look was full of 
significance and malignity." 

" You are excited, Mary," replied Evangeline, endeavoring to 


appear calm. " I am confident young Morton could not have seen 
any one but me. Harry had left the window before Jie came up. 
You Were on the opposite side of tlie street, and what could he 
suspect from seeing me standing gazing up at the prison ?'' 

"Are you sure, Evangeline, that M(jrion did not see you? 
Might he not have been where he observed all your movements?" 

" I am confident, Mary, that he did not. I heard him approach- 
ing me from Walnut-street, and I feel assured he .saw only me. 
Don't be alarmed. You and llarry are safe. If he desires to 
make mischief, I only am involved, and I bid him defiance. I am 
not one whit afraid of all the Lincolnites in creation." 

" You are protected, Evangeline, by your Union friends. I am 
so unprotected. Yon cannot realize what it is to know you are 
alone without a friend to defend you. Pa is gone ; John is gone, 
and I am alone, isolated ; I have no one to look to, to shield me 
frcmi the violence of a foe : no one, no one," and Mary sighed as 
if her heart were breaking. ''Oh that pa would come, — no, he 
cannot, dare not do this, but that he would send some one to take 
me from this horrid place." 

" Be patient, Mary ; when Hurry gets out we will all go beyond 
Yankee lines and Yankee rule, and be free and happy. I am al- 
most wild with deliglit at the thought that he will so soon be free. 
Do you think there is any possibilit}', Mary, that he will be dis- 
covered ?" 

'' He is to bribe the guard, is he not?" 

'' Yes, that is the plan, and the matter is already arranged be- 
tween them." 

" He may he betrayed. There is a possibility of this. A man 
who will sutfer himself to be bribed, will betray if he can find it 
his interest to do so. But let us hope this may not be." 

"Oh I do not fear, Mary. Harry is very shrewd and would not 
allow himself to be imposed upon. But I raust secure a hack to 
take him out of the city." 

" Better leave his escape from Louisville to liis own management. 
He has learned to avoid detection, and he will be much safer on 
foot than in a carriage." 

The girls returned to Mrs. Purdy's to await the appointed hour. 
To their great delight they found that Lasley was not in, nor had 
lie called. 

"And did you reach the city, Cousin William?" 

" No, it was impossible. They would not allow me to pass their 


'' Who would not ?" 

*' Tlie Confederate pickets at Shelby ville. I told thenn the case, 
and plead with them to let nie go, but it was all in vain. Their 
orders were to permit no one to go out of their lines, and they could 
not disobey, they said." 

'* Oh my poor, poor child !" said Mr. Lawrence, as he bowed his 
head and lieaved a deep sigh. "What will become of her? I 
know that she is almost frantic with grief. Oh, that I could but 
get her here !" He buried his face in his hands and sat for some 
minutes engaged in thought. Looking up at the y/)ung man before 
him, he said: "Do you think you could get through by way of 
Bardstown, Cousin William ?" 

"I do not know. The effort might be made. It might prove 

"Will you try?" 

"Most certainly, if you desire it." 

" Oh, I should be most thankful if you would make the attempt. 
It may succeed. I will remunerate you to any extent. I would 
willingly sacrifice alUI have to get my child. It was folly in me 
to leave her, but I felt so sure I should get back to Louisville and 
bring her out myself." 

" And this you may yet do. The Confederates may take the 

" I think not. There seems but little promise of it to me. In- 
deed I am very doubtful about their remaining long in the State. 
But Bragg's force and success must determine that. This army of 
General Smith's will soon have to leave this point unless reinforced. 
But wheu can you set out again for Louisville by way of Bards- 

"Just as soon as I can procure a pass, sir." 

" This is Thursday. If you do not succeed you will be back by 
Sunday, I suppose ?" 

" Oh yes, sir, that will be ample time to go and return." 

''If possible, Cousin William, bring my daughter. God grant 
you may succeed." The father spoke earnestly. Ills grief-marked 
face wore an expression of unusual sadness. 

"I will accomplish the object of my mission, if possible, sir." 

" Take this letter to Mary, it will tell her what to do ; and here 
is a purse, hand it to her, she may need ir." 

The young man bade his friend farewell, and leaving the hotel, 
proceeded to the stable, where, procuring a horse and buggy, he set 
out once more to endeavor to reach Louisville. 


Two (lays passed — days of anxious suspense to Mr. Lawrence, 
who, in tlie uncertainty of liis daughter's fate, was the prey of dire- 
ful apprehension and alarm. 

Sunday evening came. It was the 21st of September. General 
Bragg having defeated the enemy intrenched at Mumfordsville, 
capturing four thousand prisoners, and heavy stores, was advancing 
towards Louisville. The news of his successful march had reached 
Lexington, and every Southern heart was beating high with grati- 
tude and hope. It looked as if Kentucky was, at last, to be re- 
deemed from the hand of Northern rule, and placed where she 
should be, under \he government of the Confederate States. Gen- 
eral Kirby Smith's army had received many accessions, and through- 
out that portion of the State regiments were being organized for 
the Southern army. Every city, town, village and hamlet in the 
State was the scene of the wildest excitement. The two parties. 
Southern and Northern, which everywhere existed in antagonism, 
served by conflicting opinions and desires to keep the flame of 
agitation brightly burning. It was a time of comparative liberty 
for Southern men, a season for fear and trembling with the North- 
ern party. Every thing was forgotten in the one theme, that of 
the advance of the Confederate army. 

Mr. Lawrence was seated in his room at the hotel, gloomy and 
sad, under the weight of his own i)ersonal sorrows, which neither 
Lis faith in God's providences nor the consolation of divine truth, 
80 clearly set forth by the minister of God in his morning discourse, 
could remove. He was desolate amid the throng — grief-laden, 
though surrounded by the rushing whirl of stormy events. His 
only son, exposed to the calamities and liardships of war, his only 
daughter separated from him within the enemy's power, unpro- 
tected and alone. His thoughts were away with her, and he was 
endeavoring to paint to himself what she was doing this beautiful 
Sabbath evening. And then he pictured to himself the happiness of 
the meeting with her, which he hoped would not be long deferred. 

The sunlight came in through the uncurtained window, and fell 
in rich golden glory over the floor. Its radiant light reminded him 
of the beauty of that heavenly home, where dwelt amid the hosts 
of the redeemed the spirit of his lost wife, and his soul lifted its 
aspirations to that celestial city which needeth not the light of a 
candle, nor yet of the sun, for the Lord God giveth it light, and 
His redeemed ones, clothed in shining garments, worship before 
the great White Throne, whereon sits the Eternal Father. It was 
an hour of soul-communion with the stricken father. To him the 


joy of the world had become dimmed — lite had lost its charms — 
the earth its false glare and baneful influence. 

The old man took uj) his Bible and read, and as he read the tears 
streamed down his face. Yet, while l"e wept, his soul rejoiced, 
for by faith he laid hold on the promi^es of the Gospel, and his 
spiritual strength was renewed even amid the heart's deep sorrow- 
ing. After reading for some time he closed the bocjk, then knelt 
to pray. Long and fervently did he supplicate God's mercy and 
guidance, and earnestly ask for submission to His will. Ki.-iug, lie 
appi'oached the window, and seating himself, looked out into tlie 
busy street below. 

While he thus sat, a gentle knock was heard at the door. He 
rose ai^d opened it. 

"Unsuccessful again. Cousin "William?" said Mr. Lawrence, 
calmly, but in a low, deep tone, that told far better than language 
could have done how bitter was his disappointment. 

The young man bowed assent, and moving forward to the seat 
designated for him, explained the cause of his failure. 

" I must bear it, though it is very hard," said Mr. Lawrence, 
resuming his seat near the window. "If I knew my child was 
safe, I would ask nothing more. But I have heard nothing from 
her since I left, and I know not what may have befallen her." 

"Oh, I doubt not she is safe, sir. 1:^0 one is allowed to leave 
Louisville now for this portion of the State, and letters do not 
come except by private hand. You could not reasonably hope to 
hear from her under present circumstances, I think. I sent your 
letter by a citizen of Louisville, whom I met on my way, and who 
will go in to-morrow or the next day." 

" And they are fortifying the city and have placed it under mar- 

"That is the statement of all who seem to be at all acquainted 
with the present position of aifairs there." 

" And where is General Bragg now ?" 

"Marching on from Mumfordsville in the direction of Louisville. 
It is the opinion of many Union men that he will certainly take 
that city in a few days, notwithstanding their fortifications and 

"I should be most happy t? see it, but I am by no means san- 
guine. And yet if he allows them a foothold they will in their 
turn drive him South again." 

"The only danger I see, sir, is that of Buell's getting to Louis- 


ville first Both armies are striving wiili their utmost power to 
beat the other in this closely contested race/' 

"And where is Buell now?" 

"In close pursuit of Bragg, it is said. Only a day behind him." 

"And will General Bragg allow himself to be hemmed in by the 
two forces — the one at Louisville in his front, and Buell in his 
rear? If he does, he will show himself utterly devoid of geueral- 
shi|), I think." 

''It is said, sir, that the troops at Louisville will offer no resist- 
ance, but fall back across the Oiiio river at Hragg's approach." 

"But even ihen he would be, as it were, flanked, unless Buell 
should cross the river into Indiana. And then the gunboats, to- 
gether with heav}- ordnance placed on the opposite' shore, will 
nuike his position in. Louisville doubtful. I cm see but little hope 
— very little hope." 

" A few days, sir, will determine the issue. Active preparations 
are being made by the Federals. They are concentrating large 
numbers of the newly enlisted men at Jeffersonville and New Al- 
bany, and are about to construct pontoon bridges across the river 
at Louisville, I suppose either for advance or retreat, whichever 
may be their fortune." 

"Are the Southern people enthusiastic in the portions of the 
State where you have been ?" 

"Very, indeed. They feel the permanent occupation of Ken- 
tucky by the Confederates to be a fixed fact. It may be I have 
caught their enthusiasm. I certainly am inclined to hope." 

" But should the Confederates have to abandon the State, what 
a sad, sad thing it will be for thousands of Southern men, who will 
have to leave their homes, their wives and children, and exile 
themselves, or else remain to be imprisoned ! Oh, if I but had 
my child with me, I should feel able to defy every fortune ! But the 
thought of having to leave her behind almost breaks my lieart. I 
may never again see her, and she may fall into the hands of the 
unsparing foe," 

" She spoke of coming out. But how can she come .alone and 
unprotected? I would go for her, but should I be discovered, I 
■would be immediately sent to prison, and then she would be left 
without any hope. Sad, sad fate for any one so young and inex- 
perienced !" he said, while his whole frame heaved with the pres- 
sure of his mental distress. 

The young man felt it was unnecessary to attempt consolation. 
He looked upon his relative with deep sympathy. After some 


minutes' silence on the part of both, Mr. Stanford proposed a walk 
to the encampment. 

Willie this conversation was taking i>lace between Mr. Lawrence 
and his young cousin, Mary and Evangeline were standing before 
the prison, carrying out the bold endeavor of Harry's liberation. 

The church-bells rang. Mary and Evangeline put on their bon- 
nets and shaws. 

"■Who will go with you, girls?" asked Mrs. Purdy, as the two 
entered the parlor, ready to leave. " I wish I were well enough 
to accompany you, but really my head aches too severely. It 
would be doing myself injustice to. go out to-night. There is 
Lewellen, he can escort you. You will feel no fear with him. 
Come, ray son, get on your cap and go with the young ladies to 

'' Oh, no, no, Mrs. Purdy, don't make Lewellen go out, he looks 
so weary. Uncle will send the carriage for us. ' If it is not at the 
door, it will be there in a few minutes. See, girl, if it has not al- 
ready come." 

'•Yes, ma'am, Mr. Terrant's carriage has been here for some 

"We are not at all afraid to go in the carriage alone, Mrs. Pur- 
dy. Henry is a very safe driver, and the horses are so gentle," 

" Come back with Mary, Evangeline, and pass the night with 

" I shall either do this or take Mary with me. You know aunty 
is from home now, and I do not remain at home at night without 
some company." 

The two young ladies bade Mrs. Purdy good-evening, and, get- 
ting into the carriage, bade the driver take them to Dr. Hoyt's 

"'Shall we go in, Mary, or remain in the carriage until nine?" 
asked Evangeline. "I do not know what is best. -If we can se- 
cure a back seat, so as to leave unnoticed, 1 should prefer it to 
staying without. Would not you ?" 

'•Greatly; but then we must avoid observation. Mr. Plumber 
has a pew in the back of the church. I^one of the family are in 
town. Shall We sit in that?" 

•'Yes, yes, anywhere to be secure from notice." 

Bidding the driver to remain at the corner of the street until 
the services were over, the two girls alighted and entered the 
church. They found themselves early. As yet but few persons 
were seated, and the gas was burning at half light. Quietly they 


made tlieir way to Mr. Plmnber's pew, ^ere, seating themselves, 
tliey drew down their veils, so as almost wholly to shut outthe 
view of their faces. Family by family the congregation came in, 
until the building was pretty nearly filled. The gas was turned ou 
to a full jet, the organ pealed forth a salutatory as the minister ap- 
peared in the pulpit, and services ct)mmenced. 

During the singing, tiie prayer, and the rather lengthy sermon 
that succeeded tliem, Evangeline and Mary remained seated like 
statues draped from view. They dared not turn their faces right 
nor left, lest they should be recognized by some friend. As the 
minister concluded his sermon, Evangeline quietly drew forth her 
watch. It wanted five minutes to nine. " We will go," she said 
to Mary. 

As the minister, uplifting his hands, said, ''Let us pray," they 
arose and noiselessly left the house. 

"Oh, Mary, Mary, if Harry should not come!" said Evangeline, 
fts she nervously handed her friend into the carriage. 

" Stay just where you are, Henry, until I tell you to leave, 
church is not out yet." She remained standing on the pavement 
holding open the door of the carriage, her eyes fixed on the dark, 
grim form of the prison that rose uj) before her view. "Strange 
contrast," she said, "this close proximity of the house of God, 
where men assemble to worship Him according to the dictates of 
their own conscience, and the prison-house, where men made in 
His own image and born freemen are shut out from society, abused, 
insulted, merely because they have dared to exercise their reason 
and express their convictions — dared to enjoy this right that God 
himself has bestowed on them, and which all liberal governments 
guarantee to their meanest subjects. What a sad comment upon 
mankind, upon the passions to the behests of which he yields up 
conscience and judgment, and which, like the brute creation, he 
follows as his guide !" 

"Mary, Mary!" she said excitedly, thrusting her head into the 
carriage, "some one approaches. I can't see him distinctly, but it 
looks like Harry," 

"Where, where, Evangeline?" replied Mary, springing out and 
taking position beside the trembling girl. 

" Yonder. Don't you see somebody in the dim gas-light coming 
this way? He turned from Green-street. Look, he is crossing. 
It must be Harry. Oh, Mary !" and Evangeline started hastily 
forward to meet the approaching figure, and as it neared the pave- 
ment she ejaculated, "Harry, Harry!" 


The man suddenly stf^od, raised liis head, aod looked iuquir- 
iugly round. Evangeline advanced to the rear of the carriage, and 
said more softly than at first : 

" Harry, Harry ! is that you ?" 

Again the figure paused, and peered more earnestly in the 
direction from whence the sound proceeded. Discovering in the 
dim light only a female figure near the carriage in front of him, he 
lowered his head, and passed quickly on. 

Evangeline sprang to the door-step, and rushed into the car- 
riage, exclaiming, ''It was not Harry, Mary. Who could it have 
been ? I hope he did not know me." 

Her voice was harsh, her manner bewildered and agitated. She 
trembled in every limb, her heart beat audibly. The clock of the 
cathedral sounded out the hour of nine. 

"Be still, Evangeline; be composed. You have nothing "to 
fear. The man evidently did not recognize yon, or he would 
have made himself known. I do not suppose he heard your 
words — only your voice arrested his attention. Be calm, we 
have nothing to fear." 

" But if Harry should not come? It is nine — the hour — and he 
is not here. I shall die, Mai'T, if I am disappointed. It is my 
only hope in life. For days 1 have lived on the expectation of 
this moment. And now, if he should not come — " 

Just then the organ pealed forth its deep, bass notes. Evan- 
geline threw her arms around her friend, and hid her face on her 
bosom. " Not come — not come 1 Oh, how can I bear it ?" and 
she burst into tears. 

" You must be calm, Evangeline. You will betray us, if you 
weep that way. It is not too late, Harry's plans may have been 
delayed. I shall look yet half an hour for him." 

'' Oh, will you — do you, Mary ?" she sobbed, starting up and 
gazing into the sweet face bending over her, as if a ray of hope, 
altogether unlooked for, had that instant found lodgment in her 
bosom. '' Do you really think, Mary, that this is true ? Harry is 
always so punctual !" 

" But, Evangeline, Harry is now dependent on circumstances 
which he cannot master to suit his will and desires. It may be 
he is watched, or some of the oflicers of the prison perhaps are in ; 
or the sentinel with whom he has made the arrangement may not 
have yet entered on his duty." 

" True, true, Mary ; I see that a hundred things may prevent 
his being here at the moment. But church will soon be out. 


What shall we do then ? Will it uot be suspicious for us lo 
remain here in this place withont any apparent reason ?" 

'"■ Suppose we drive round the square while the people are leav- 
ing the church, and then return to this point?" 

'* If Harry should come while we are away, Mary ! No, no, I 
cannot leave. But this we can do," she added, after thinking a 
moment; ''I will remain and keep watch for Harry, while Henry 
drives you roynd. I will shield myself in that deep shade yonder, 
and no one will see me; if they do, I will tell them I am await- 
ing my carriage. If he should come, and I do not see him, he 
will doubtless remain until after everyone is gone, for he will feel 
sure I am here." 

"Tell the driver, Evangeline, to drive slowly around the 
square, returning just to this point, but not to set off until the 
congfegation is dismissed." 

Evangeline gave the order slowly and emphatically to the boy 
on the box. 

" Do you understand me, Henry ?" 

'' Yes, ma'am," was the reply of the drowsy coachman. 

A footfall on the pavement. The two girls simultaneously 
thrust their heads from the carriage window. Breathlessly they 
awaited the advancing steps. Nearer and nearer they came, 
until they were distinctly audible just behind the carriage. 

The girls grasped each other in silence. Neither spoke, as they 
caught the dim outline of a man, evidently making his way 
towards the carriage. He paused near the open door. Evangel- 
ine leaned out until their faces almost met. Her eyes searched 
his features by the pale light. It was not Harry, only some one 
who had come to escort a wife or sister from church. As she fell 
back in the carriage, she pressed Mary's hand convulsively, 
lieaved a heavy sigh, but no word escaped her lips. 

The audience commenced to leave the cliurch. Evangeline 
repeated her command to the driver, alighted, quietly closed the 
door, and sought the deep shade of the building. The carriage 
drove slowly off. Almost fearing to breathe, lest siie might 
arrest the attention of some one, Evangeline remained motionless, 
ensconced in her dark hiding-place. Group after group moved 
off, and she was left alone. She shuddered as she thought of her 
situation. Dark fears shot through*her mind, but she dismissed 
them in a moment as ill-omened guests. The sexton extinguished 
the lights, swung to the ponderous front doors, locked them, and 
descending the steps, walked away humming a low air. 


Tliej appeared hours, those few minutes of racking* uncertainty. 
The lone, trembling girl, hid away in the deep shidow of that 
silent church, experienced the varied emotions of a 1 fotime, while 
her throbbing heart pulsated but fleeting moments. Wonder we 
at that marked stamp of maturity that characterizes the manner 
and countenance of some young beings who cross our life-path as 
we journey onward ? Ah, the heart doth often w^rite dowi* in its 
own ineffaceable record the sufferings and experience of many 
years, while the hand but moves in time's great dial-plate. 

What dread, what apprehension, what doubt, what sinkinjr sor- 
row% swayed the bosom of Evangeline, as she felt the peril of lier 
position ? Not for herself cared she. It was for him whom her 
soul loved with all the intensity of its passionate, clinging ardor. 
How unselfish is pure, young love ! IIow ready to immolate itself 
on the altar of its idol's happiness! Building its own pyre, it 
looks gladly up, and rejoices while it reads in the preparation for 
its fearful doom the immortality of its own beloved Psyche. To 
the tear-dimmed eye this earth is waste and barren, and time and 
selfish interest eat out the good from man's heart as it obdurates 
under their ossifying touch. But in the fresh, glad spring-time of 
youth, flowers bud an<l bloom, and send abroad sweet fragrance, 
and the whisperings of angels speak to life, in the soul of unsullied 
innocence, rapturous emotions akin to those that swell the bosoms 
of celestial beings. 

The noise of the carriage-wheels moving slowly over the boldered 
street caught Evangeline's eager ear. Uncertain whether it was 
Mary, she remained under cover of the darkness. She listened 
attentively. It came tardily on to the corner, turned, and Henry's 
voice called out, " Whoa, whoal" 

She forsook her covert and stepped to the carriage 

*' Not yet, Evangeline?" 

"Not yet, Mary." After a lapse of time she said, "He wiii 
not come, Mary. Harry will not come. My heart tells me so. 1 
felt it as I stood yonder beneath that frowning wall," 

She spoke with the determination of desperation, and the voice 
so cold, so hollow, fell fearfully on Mary's ear. 

"Oh, do not despair. It is time yet. Get in the carriage, and 
we will wait here. There are several minutes yet to half-pas' 
nine, and I do not expect hira before then." 

"Don't you, Mary?" asked Evangeline, sadly, as she seated 
herself in the carriage, and leaned her bead on Mary's shoulder. 


"Ah me, I fear he will not come," she added hopelessly. "Per- 
haps — perhaps — " 

The words died out on her lips. She could not trust . herself 
with speaking the fears that haunted her soul. 

Twice aj^ain during the ten minutes of eager expectation that 
followed, Evangeline's ear was mocked by the sound of some one 
coming towards tlie carriage. Each time she started up, waited 
until the individual passed by, then fell back with a groan into 
her original position. Mary's arm stole gently around the languid 
form. She felt how deeply Evangeline needed words of comfort. 
But how could she, convinced as she now was, that there was no 
longer hope left, contirme to offer words of cheer or consolation? 

Minute succeeded minute. Oh, how wearily they dragged them- 
selves across the tortured heart of the expectant girl! The old 
cathedral clock rung out the hour of ten. 

Evangeline fell on her friend's bosom and gasped out — " Too 
late ! too late ! he will not come ; we must go." Henry was or- 
dered to drive back to Mrs. Purdy's. More dead than living, Evan- 
geline lay, every sense benumbed by the weight of disappointment. 
She did not attempt to speak. She did not move; her low still 
breathing was scarcely perceptible. Marjf took her icy hands in 
hers and chafed them gently, and smoothed back from the rigid 
brow the sheet of raven hair. 

"If Mr. Terrant is awaiting Miss Evangeline, tell him she is 
with me," said Mary to the driver, as she assisted the almost life- 
less form of Evangeline to ascend the front steps. Supporting 
her as well as she could, Mary rang the bell ; the servant answered 
tardily. "Assist me up stairs with Miss Evangeline," she said to 
the girl in a low tone. " Do not make any noise." 

*• Is Miss 'Vangie sick, Miss Mary ?" asked the girl, rubbing her 
sleepy eyes. 

" She is not well, Kate. Has Mrs. Purdy retired ?" 

" Oh yes, ma'am, been in bed long time. Missis got such a 

Noiselessly Evangeline was conducted along the hall and up the 
stairway to Mary's room. Reaching it, she threw herself on the 
bed, but spoke not. 

"Some fresh water, Kate; ice-water." 

"While the girl prepared the cooler for water, Mary raised the 
form of Evangeline and took off her hat. She then loosed her 
clothes and removed her shoes, and rubbed her face and hands. 

" Here, Evangeline, take this water, it will refresh you ;" and 


she poured a glass of ice-water from tlie pitcher the girl had 
brought, and turning into it a tea-spoonful of sal. volatile, she 
placed it to Evangeline's lips. She drank, and looking up into 
Mary's face, whispered, " He did not come, Mary, he did not 

'' You can go down now, Kate, Miss Evangeline is better." 

"If you need me to-night. Miss Mary, ring the bell, and I'll 
come;" and the girl placed the water on the washstand and left 
the room. 

As the door closed behind the servant, Evangeline sprang up, 
and throwing her arms about Mary, who sat on the bed beside her, 
hurst into tears. She wept persistently for some time. Her sur- 
charged heart found relief from its crushing burden, and after a 
lapse of time, she said, looking sadly, beseechingly at her friend : 

'' Oh ! tell me, tell me, Mary, why did not Harry come?" 

''I cannot tell, Evangeline. He could not get out. Perhaps 
the guard deceived him." 

" You did not hear any shooting, Mary, did you ?" 

'' Oh no, Evangeline ; Harry is safe, no doubt." 

" But in that horrid prison," she responded, shaking her head 
slowly, and gazing out into the room despairingly. " He said he 
would come. It was all arranged, I know it was ; he understood 
all the signs, and answered them all. I wonder why he disap- 
pointed me?" 

" He could not carry out his plans, Mary ; he has been deceived 
in some way." 

'' And if he was discovered they'll put him in irons, Mary, and 
send him to Camp Chase. Oh 1 I shall never again see him 1 never, 
never!" and again she wept bitterly. 

Mary endeavored to soothe her, to bid her hope. But how can 
the heart hope when it is breaking ? 

A thousand reasons presented themselves to the tortured mind 
of Evangeline, but nothing was satisfactory. Around each sug- 
gestion gathered doubt, uncertainty, fear. Over all hovered the 
incubus of disappointed expectation. 

Throughout the night Mary watched beside her. Sometimes 
she slept fitfully, at others wept, and then again, with seeming 
composure, she would converse over her bitter trial. 

"Could Lasley have thwarted me, Mary?" she asked, as the 
two lay, at the midnight hour, vainly endeavoring to unravel the 

"No, no, Evangeline; it cannot be. What influence has Ed. 


Kv l,„.t";: ,1::: ^■;;i::';:;;::;s:;:- --"^ '■'»---«».. 

ca,mot tell Mary. But there comes over mea vague feelin^ 
at ,,nes a,„,M,„t,„g ,o conviction, that heis tl,e autl.or of a 1 1 i"'-! 

~::::t v:'rv-:-^-^ r ^.^"">- - overturn';::, 

i on ,lo hun injustice, Evangie. I am assure,! he has 
at.on enough to discover your secret, or ability to overturn vonr 
« angements. No, no; it is not Ed! Lasley that has lone ,1. - 
Tl e guard 1ms either deceived or betrayed Harrv W- ?T 
geline, a few^ours may disclose it all " ^^ ""' ^'''"■ 

in:bc:r r- ^xL^iz^t-^r "-r "^ - -^ .»>■ >.-^- 

Larry is 
not to live.' 

; '"7'' -;-. ^--i'T. ^tern necessity demands it of mv break 
• nitrisl^;;'/'- '"^ <^--^f"l to bear this wasting nx,. 
nof^ r: ''^^^ ^^ -^^ ^-^y^ ^h- life to me is worthLs-1 1' 




Bright, beantifully bright, as if the angel of light and glory had 
spread her pinions over the earth, opened the morning of this day 
so memorable in the annals of Louisville. And with the uprising 
of its multitudes of men, came what hopes, what doubts, what 
fears ! 

During the previous week ditches had been dug and guns mount- 
ed, so as to circumvallate the city from the river on the east to the 
river on the west. Thousands of men, impressed into service, had 
toiled, beside the soldiery, to prepare " defences against the rebels 
under Bragg." The fears of the near-sighted and unwary had 
been stilled by this semblance of strength, and many there were 
who regarded their little treasures as safe from the " vandal foot" 
of Southrons, as if some genii, in answer to Aladdin's lamp, had 
transported them to Central Africa. But others — the wise and 
prudent — knew and felt how little resistance these pits, dug in the 
very outskirts of the place, would offer to veteran troops deter- 
mined to secure a foothold in this " Union stronghold." They 
were not to be misled by this mere show of safety, and fearfully 
did they open their eyes to the certainty that General Bragg could 
take Louisville if he desired to do so. With sucE, all was fearful 
apprehension. At an early hour the streets were thronged with 
the unquiet multitude, eager for the morning news. 

" Bragg had left Mumfordsville, where he had defeated the Fed- 
erals, captured over 4,000 prisoners with all their accoutrements, 
and was marching in heavy force towards the city." This was the 
news that ran from hp to lip — arousing the hopes of Southern 
hearts who were panting for deliverance, and filling with gloom 
and anxiety the bosoms of Lincoln's supporters. Men were at 
work on the intrenchments ; regiments were paraded through the 
thoroughfares to impress the public with a feeling of security. 
Forces were constantly being crossed over from Jeffersonville to 
take position among the defenders of the city. OflScers dashed 
through the streets on horseback, all eager in the accomplishment 


of suitable preparations to meet the enemy. Cannon rattled along, 
followed by the shouts and yells of boys and darkies. Union flags 
waved from Union windows. Cavalry, with rushing tramp and 
clanking swords, swept from point to point. Everywhere the 
work went on ; everywhere were signs of confusion and fearful 
looking for danger. Men's hearts failed them as they thought of 
the coming conflict. 

Suddenly the news ran through the streets, " General Nelson 
has issued an order for all the women, children, and non-combat- 
ants to leave the city." It sped from tongue to tongue, until it 
reached the length and breadth of the town. Had there been 
written on the clear azure above, in characters of living light, the 
fearful doom of all mankind, darker and more dire panic could not 
have seized the hearts of men and women. What had been pain- 
fully contingent before was now a most appalling reality. Bragg 
was at the very gates of the city, and Nelson declared, rather than 
it should fall into the hands of the rebels, he would fight hand to 
hand through the streets ; and then, if he were compelled to evac- 
uate and cross to the northern bank of the river, he would plant 
'his guns on the Indiana shore and shell it until every house was 
demoHshed before the enemy should hold it. Nelson was known 
to be a reckless, desperate man, always ready for any rash, un- 
natural act, and each individual considered not only his property, 
but his life, in jeopardy. In less than a half-hour from the first 
faint rumor of the baneful order, every house seemed to have 
emptied its inmates into the already thronged streets ; men, pale 
and trembling, eagerly asking of every responsible friend they met 
if the rumor was really true. "Women weeping and wringing their 
hands in agony; children affrighted, and aroused by that sense of 
dread and anxiety which the young always feel under excitement, 
dashed wildly to and fro. Everybody appeared frenzied, de- 
void of both reason and method. 

The order had been issued. Bragg was within a few miles of 
the city, and the battle would begin in a few hours. Then came 
the fearful rush of thousands, eager to escape the dreadful doom 
of conflict. Every vehicle, from the most superb hack down to the 
rickety old dray, was impressed into the service of transporting 
families to a place of refuge. Clothes were hastily thrown into 
trunks, which trunks were thrown into drays, furniture wagons, 
omnibuses, carriages, hacks, or whatever vehicle could be obtained, 
and driven at pell-mell speed to the wharf. Houses, with every 
thing in them turned upside down, were hastily cleared and con- 


signed by their fleeing owners to the fate of war. Babes were 
snatched from the cradle, and, wrapped up in any tiling that could 
afford protection from the chill air of autumn, were pressed to the 
tlirobbing bosom of the distracted mother, and borne to one of the 
boats that stood waiting to convey them to the opposite shore. 
The river-bank was thronged with fearful crowds, all anxious to , 
'secure a speedy transit to the opposite side of the Ohio. 

As each hour passed, rumors became more and more numerous, 
more and more terrible. ''Bragg had whipped BuelPs forces and 
cut them to pieces, and was now halting outside the city, deiuaud- 
iug its surrender. Dozens of persons had seen his truce-flag 
borne along the streets ; others, who had ascended the roof of the 
Custom-house, had seen, with the aid of glasses, his whole army 
only a few miles out, awaiting the return of the flag of truce. 

As Nelson had sworn he would never surrender, it was believed 
the city would be immediately attacked, mid the expectant ears 
of the panic-stricken fugitives, as they sped the streets, or lined 
the wharf, or pursued the various roads that communicated with 
the countr}-, eagerly listened for the first booming of the death- 
dealing cannon. 

Evening came, but brought no attack. Yet the excitement was 
not one whit abated. StiU the stream continued to outpour. 
Everywhere new reports sprang into life, and were caught up by 
eager listeners and repeated as truths, until to walk one square 
and hear the varied recitals that met you, was to grow bewildered 
and doubt the truth of all. 

At one corner you would hear that Bragg had completely anni- 
hilated Buell's army. At the next corner, you would learn from 
a source equally as veracious, that Buell had encountered Bragg 
and routed his army, scattering it in every direction. One would 
assert as a fact wholly unquestionable, that General Bragg would 
certainly reach the city that niglit ; another would declare that he 
knew beyond contradiction that Bragg had but twenty-five thou- 
sand men, and that he would not dare to venture upon the place. 
Shops and storehouses of all descriptions were closed, their alarm- 
ed owners having fled, leaving behind them every thing that would 
embarrass their precipitate exodus. 

Evening came — yet the frightful rush continued, and when the 
chill September night fell down over the earth, thousands of 
the citizens of Louisville, without any comforts, many destitute 
of even a shelter from the night air, were congregated in Jeffer- 
sonville, N'ew Albany, and other points on the Indiana shore. 

OF MORGAN AND 1113 MEN. 343 

Many of the more wealtliy had gone to Cincinnati and Indianap- 
opolis; while others, unwiUing to attempt to seek safety on free 
soil, had moved out by every possible means into the nearest 
towns and the contiguous counties. The prisoners had all been 
forwarded to Camp Chase, and many of the military oflScials had 
made full arrangements to depart at the first appearance of neces- 

Meanwhile, General Bragg was quietly pursuing his way to 
Bardstown, having diverged from the direct route to Louisville at 
llodgenville, some thirty miles from tiie city. Beaching Bards- 
town in the forenoon of that memorable day, he halted his weary 
troops for rest, and immediately sent out detachments of cavalry 
on all the routes leading towards the city ; which movement being 
made known, gave rise to the belief that it was his intention 
to approach by the various roads that led from tlie vicinity of 
Bardstown to Louisville; and all who ventured out in that direc- 
tion expected to meet the heavy columns of triumphant Confeder- 
ates marching on to the certain capture of the town. It was also 
beheved by many that General Kirby Smith's forces were advan- 
cing from LexingtX)n by way of Shelbyville, to form a junction 
with Bragg, and thus simultaneously attack the town from two 
diiierent points. 

" What is the news, Mrs. Purdy ?'' asked Mary and Evange- 
line in the same breath, as that lady entered the room heated, 
flushed, and trembling with atfright. ••' Oh, tell me, Mrs. Purdy, 
tell me!" gasped Evangeline, as she started up in the bed from 
which she had not yet riseu. 

It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Mrs. Purdy had just 
returned from market. Without waiting below to lay aside her 
bonnet and shawl, she hastened up stairs, sought Mary's room, 
and disregarding the ceremony of rapping at the door, entered 
with an expression of terror on her countenance. 

Evangeline sat in bed, her hands clasped, and staring up into 
Mrs. Purdy's face, as if she would read therefrom the dread secret 
of her alarm. Mary rose and conducted her to the sofa. lu 
interrupted sentences the terrified woman informed the girls of 
the fearful order and the imminent peril of the city. 

Xot a word of reply was spoken. The three sat in silence, 
borror-strickeu. After a lapse of some moment--, Evangeline ex- 
claimed, "Can this be true, Mrs. Purdy, or is it only a rumor?" 

"True, Evangeline — true, child. I saw Mr. Middleton, who 
had just returned from the office of the Journal^ and he told me 


that Shipranu told him the order liad been issued by General Nel- 
son, and would appear on the bulletin-boards as soon as it could 
be printed." 

" And what shall we do — what sliall we do ?" asked Evangeline, 
imploringly, springing from the bed to the side of the yet trem- 
bling woman. 

" Leave, leave — we must leave !" was the emphatic reply. 

"And where must we go, Mrs. Purdy ?" asked Mary, quickly, 
as the hope sprung up in her heart of getting to her father. 

" Anywhere, anywhere, where we will be safe. Hundreds are 
already on tlieir way to Cincinnati and Indiana." 

" And would you go across the river, Mrs. Purdy ? Would you 
seek safety in the midst of our enemies ?" 

" I cannot stop now, Mary, to debate differences. To secure 
the preservation of my own life and the life of my child is now 
my first business." ^ 

"And is the city certainly to be shelled, Mrs. Purdy ?" 

" General Nelson says so." 

" And what will be done with the prisoners ? Are they to be 
kept shut up to take their chances for life or death ?" 

" I do not know, Evangeline. I heard no mention of them. 
Perhaps the morning paper says something about it. Here, I 
have one in my pocket. Didn't have time to look at it. Maybe 
you will find there what is to be done with them," she said, as 
she handed the sheet to Evangehne, who took it, and hastily ran 
her eye up and down the columns. 

" I must go and pack my trunk, and be ready to be oflP as soon 
as possible. Mary, will you go witli me ?" 

'' TThere are you going, Mrs. Purdy ?" 

"To my cousins, at Hanover, Indiana. It is the only placf* 
where I can go." 

"No, Mrs. Purdy, I shall never cross ^he river to seek for 
safety. I will die on Kentucky soil first." 

"But I cannot leave you, Mary." 

" Oh, don't give yourself a moment's thought about me. I will 
take care of myself. I am not afraid of the Confederates, if they 
should come ; and if Nelson should be wild enough to try to shel^ 
them out, I will go to the country." 

" You are not going to trust yourself here, Mary ?" said Mrs. 
Purdy, in surprise, as she turned from the door to look back upon 
the heroic girl. " Stay here and be killed ! You will have no 
time to get away when the fight is raging everywhere." 


"I cannot go to Indiana, Mrs. Purdj. I will not piace myself 
beyond the reach of my brother and father, and all who are my 
friends. No, no; I'll remain on my native soil, and take the 
chances. Hut do not let me interrupt your arrangements. I will 
go out to Mr. K.'s, and whatever they think best, I will do." 

Mrs. Purdy left the room, wondering that anybody should 
stand, at a juncture so critical, upon a question of difference of 

As the door closed, Evangeline ejaculated, " To Camp Chase, 
Mary, to Camp Chase!" 

" Who, Evangeline — the prisoners ?" 

" Yes— to-day, at twelve o'clock. I must see Harry." 

"And are you going to remain here, Evangeline?" 

" Oh, Mary, Mary, I know not what to do. I am bewildered, 
my brain reels. My uncle cannot go with me. All the men capa- 
ble of bearing arras are to be kept for the defence of the city. I 
cannot go myself. I cannot remain if Harry is taken away. 
What shall I do— what shall I do ?" 

" Go with me, Evangeline." 

" And where will you go, Mary ?" 

" Through the Confederate lines to my father and brother." 

''But how will you get through, Mary? Who will go with 
you ?" 

" I do not know. There will be some way of escape for me." 

" But if Harry is to be sent to Camp Chase, I must keep within 
Federal lines. You know I have no one to rely on, if he cannot 
escape, but Union friends, wiio will never go beyond Federal 
limits. Oh, that Harry had but escaped last night! then would I 
gladly go with you." 

The door-bell rang. Evangeline shuddered. 

" Who or what can that be ? The least noise affrights me. 
My heart forebodes evil. What if Harry is dead ?" 

" Oh, Evangeline, that cannot be. The morning paper would 
have mentioned any occurrence of the kind, and the streets would 
be filled with it." 

" Not now, Mary. Every one is too much engaged looking to 
his own welfare to regard the fate of another." 

She had scarcely finished the sentence when the door opened, 
and Mrs. Spalding entered, trembling, as Mrs. Purdy, with alarm, 
without waiting to bid the girls good-morning, said, "I have 
called, Mary, to take you home with me. The city is to be 
shelled in an hour, they say. Get your bonnet on immediately, 



and go witli nie. Yon will then be beyond present danger. And 
you, too, Evangie, there is room for you. Wljy, what is the mat- 
ter, child, are you sick ? you look so pale and worn. Don't be 
alarmed. There is no possibility of your being hurt at pa's, 
unless the battle should be fought out in that direction, and then 
we would fall further back— go to Bardstown or Lebanon. Dress 
yourself quickly. The carriage will be here in a few minutes." 

'•Do, Evangeline, go with us, I cannot leave you," said Mary, 
beseechingly, as she hastened from drawer to wardrobe, and fr(;m 
wardrobe to trunk, gathering up a few needed articles of clothing. 

Evangeline buried her face in her hands, and remained silent. 
Then looking up, she said, " No, no, I cannot go. I remain here." 

"Stay in the city, Evangeline, and it being shelled! Why this 
is foil}' — rashness. You must go with me — must go. There is no 
choice left. Y<»ur aunt is away. Your uncle will not be permit- 
ted to leave. You cannot go alone — to remain here is impossible. 
You must go with me. I cannot leave you here. Come, get on 
your dress, we have no time to lose, the fight may begin at any 
hour. Hush ! wasn't that the report of cannon ?'' and Mrs. Spald- 
ing sprang to the window, and hastily throwing it up, listened 
with trembling fear. 

A few moments more, and again the report of cannon sounded 
out on the air. 

"It is — it is!" she exclaimed, springing back, her eyes starting 
from their sockets. " It is cannonading, perhaps the conflict has 
already begun. Evangeline, Evangeline ! do come. Oh, do — in a 
moment. Don't sit there. See, Mary is almost ready. And Mrs. 
Purdy has her trunk packed, and has sent out for a carriage to 
take her to the boat. Dress, dress, or you will be too late." 

'• I cannot go, Lu. Oh ! I cannot," she said, emphatically. "I 
must stay with my uncle." 

" Stay with your uncle, Evangeline! TThat good can you do? 
You only endanger your own life. General Nelson says all the 
women and children must leave the city. It will be shelled, and 
if necessary, to prevent its faUiug into our hands, shall be burnt. 
Come, there is Mr. Spalding. Get up, get up, and dress your- 

"Oh, Evangie, do go," said Mary, throwing her arms about the 
neck of the pale, wan girl. ''Do go, Evangie. It is of no avail 
for you to stay here. The matter cannot be altered. We must, 

Evangeline looked up at her friend. Her eyes were red with 


the weeping of the past niglit, and on her face there rested a sad 
and anxious expression. But her compressed hps, and the fixed 
h>ok of those expressive black eyes, told all too plainly of her re- 
solved purpose. 

"Do not ask me, Mary. I must remain here. You know my 
reasons. I should be miserable in Confederate lines, where I 
could bear nothing, and life is not worth preserving now. I can- 
not go." 

"But what will you dcj^Evangeline?" 

"Oh, I cannot tell. There will be some way opened for me." 
" But I cannot leave you so." 

" Yes, Mary, you must. Do not delay a moment for me. Al- 
ready you may be endangered. Go, go, and leave me. I will 
take care of myself." 

"But you will not remain here. Mrs. Purdy will be off in a 
short time, and the house will be closed." 

"No, no, I shall go directly home. From there to the prison 
and the boat," she whispered. "I may perchance see him once 

Mary threw her arms about her neck and burst into tears. 
" Oh, Evangie, we may never meet again. Good-by," and she 
kissed her again and again. 

Evangeline spoke not. The tears gushed from her eyes. She 
strained Mary to her heart, and imprinted a farewell kiss upon her 
lips, and the two parted — to meet no more. 

Mrs. Spalding bade her good-by. The two left the room, and 
gaining the carriage, drove rapidly out to the country. 

Evangeline dressed herself mechanically, and walked home. 
She found her uncle gone, and all the servant's, save the cook, out 
on the street to hear the news. The clock struck eleven. 

"One hour more, and he goes from me forever. Once in that 
horrid prison, and he will never come out again," she said to her- 
self, mournfully, as she closed the door of her room, and set out 
alone, to catch, if possible, one more glimpse of the beloved form. 
She drew her veil closely over her face, and proceeded in the 
direction of the prison. Everywhere met her eyes evidences of 
the terrible panic that had seized the people. The streets were 
thronged with vehicles carrying away women, and children, and 
baggage. The side-walks were crowded with the moving masses, 
jostling against each other, as each rushed along in pursuit of Lis 
own particular phantom. 

Quickly, quietly, she threaded her way along the streets, regard- 


ing nothing but her own safety from the danger of being thrown 
down. Her mind was filled with the one dread thought, that of not 
seeing Harry before he left. As she neared the prison, she saw a 
great crowd around the gateway. Men were moving about as if 
some consternation had befallen them, and on lifting her veil to 
endeavor to ascertain the cause of the commotion, she saw several 
soldiers pass in and through the dense mass. 

"They are taking the prisoners away," she said, and with one 
bound she pressed forward and forced herself on the corner of the 
pavement by wLich they must pass on their way to the river. 
Almost ready to faint with emotion, she maintained her position 
as well as she could amid the surging movements of the ever- 
changing throng. She could not see the door of the prison, nor 
the great gate guarded by its sentinels. Throwing her thick veil 
aside, and shielding her face from the peering curiosity of the 
passer-by as well as she could with her hand, she looked up over 
the heads of the people to the prison windows. A few forms 
stood before them. Her heart bounded as she fancied she caught 
a ghmpse of Harry. She looked again — the form was gone. Ea- 
gerly she strained her eyes upward, each moment hoping he would 

" What's going on here ?" asked one man of another, as the two 
met on the pavement near where Evangeline was standing be- 
side another female, like herself, closely veiled. 

" Going to take the rebel prisoners to Camp Cliase. Are afraid 
Bragg will get them." 

" P>haw ! he'll never come here. Buell will cut him all to 
pieces, and send his starving, naked vandals flying back to Dixie." 

" Not so sure of that, Mr. Duncan. Things look mighty doubt- 
ful now, I tell you. The order of ISTelson means a great deal. 
Desperate struggle ahead." 

" Desperate struggle, Mr. McAllister ! Why, you don't think 
80, do you? Why, the starving, naked, cowardly Southerners 
won't fight. They haven't got any arms to fight with. Some old 
flint-lock guns, and now and then a man with a squirrel rifle. 
What can such a people do? Our men can whip them out in an 
hour and not half try. 

'' Don't feel so certain about that," said the old man, looking 
searchingly into his friend's face to see if he was not quizzing 
him. "Don't feel certain — not at all certain, sir. I used to be- 
lieve these tales about these rebels being starved and naked, and 
having no guns; but I tell you, sir, when they are right here 


ready to overrun ns, and we have got so many men, it looks 
mighty strange, sir. Makes a man think, I tell you." 

"But Prentice tells you not to fear, they are nothing but a 
handful of meii, made desperate because they have got no bread 
and bacon ; and he is good authority, sir." 

" Confound old Prentice. I used to believe all he said. But I 
tell you, sir, he's lied about these rebels. Needn't tell me any 
longer they are cowards, when they stand right here threatening 
this city. All a mistake, sir, all a mistake. They've got plenty 
of spunk. Pve been down South, and I know what they are. 
Prentice needn't tell me they won't fight." 

" Oil, but Buell will whip them out. Don't be alarmed. He 
will manage them." 

" Not so sure of that either, sir. He didn't manage them down 
in Tennessee. I don't see how he's going to do it now — they've 
got the start of him. Mighty fearful Bragg Avill ruin him, and 
then pounce down on us, and ruin us. Needn't tell me, Mr. Dun- 
can. You're a Southern man, and I don't believe a word you've 
said. You are only laughing at me. You Southern men are all 
in fine spirits. Not one of you but what can laugh over this mat- 
ter, serious as it is." 

"Pm only telling you, Mr. McAllister, what Prentice says. "I 
tliought he was the cream of all wisdom and truth. As to w^hat 
I believe, that's a matter of small moment ; it can't possibly atfect 
the issue either way." 

" Are you going to leave Louisville, Mr. Duncan ; I mean your 
family ?" 

" No, sir; we have decided to remain and take the shelling." 

'' Yes, that's the way with you rebels ; you all believe Bragg's 
coming. Not one of you is going to budge an inch ; this tells the 
tale. You all think Bragg will be here in a few hours. Well, 
well, it may be so. Good-by ; I may never see you again, for if 
the rebels do come, I, for one, will leave ; I shan't fall into their 
Lands." The two bade each other farewell and parted. 

Evangeline had listened attentively to this little by-chat. She 
would fain catch at any promise of hope, however vague and un- 
certain. Could the Southerners reach the city before the prisoners 
were sent away, Harry would be saved. Or could there even 
spring up an uncontrollable excitement, it would offer some hope 
of deliverance. 

As these thoughts were passing through her mind, her eys were 
seeking the open window, desirous to catch one view of Harry. 


Two men encountered each other on the pavement on her left. 
Their words, tiiough spoken in an ordinar}^ voice, reached lier ear. 

" What's all this, going on iiere?" asked one of the otiier. 

" Going to take the rebel prisoners across the river ; afraid Bragg 
will get them here." 

"Ah, yes, yes. One of them attempted to escape last night, I 
believe, didn't he?" remarked the elder of the two to tlie otlier. 
The speaker was an old man, with wliite hair, sunken blue eyes, 
and thin pale face. He leaned on his cane as he walked along, 
being stooped in the shoulders. 

" Did he, indeed ? I had not heard of it," was the quick, ner- 
vous reply of the younger gentleman. 

'•Yes — one of Morgan's men ; they are perfect dare-devils, you 

" And did he succeed ?" Evangeline's ready ear had caught the 
words of the speaker. She stepped forward to the front of the 
pavement, the better to hear the thrilling conversation. 

" I heard that — " The old gentleman had proceeded thus far 
with his reply, when a rough, brawny man knocked up against 
Evangeline, almost dashing her down. She lost the last words of 
the answer, for before she could recover herself the gentlemen were 
bidding each other " good-morning." 

Amazed, distracted at the uncertainty in which she found her- 
self, she looked round to see which way the elderly gentleman had 
I)roceeded. Her strong impulse was to follow him, but he was 
lost to her vision amid the throng. Turning to the veiled female 
who stood near her, wiio she hoped might have heard the old 
gentleman's answer, she asked timidly : 

"• Did you hear whether one of Morgan's men escaped from the 
prison last night ?" 

"No!" said the girl, astonishment evident in her tone. "Did 
one get out ?" 

"I heard something said about one of them attempting to 

" I do hope he succeeded," the female replied, without raising 
her veil, only turning her face to Evangeline. "1 wonder who it 

" I did not hear his name. Are there more than one of Morgan's 
men there?" 

"Oh, yes; several. I have an acquaintance in prison, young 
Koberts, who is one of his men." 

At the mention of this name, Evangeline started. Did she know 


the female staudiiig beside her? Did tlie hidy recognize her? 
No, else she would have assuredly addressed her by name. 

"The prisoners go to Cincinnati to-day," said Evangeline, her 
curiosity excited, and desiring to prolong the conversation, hoping 
to hear something that would throw light on Harry's dark fate. 

" Yes, at twelve o'ch)ck. 1 have an uncle, from Owen county, 
among the number, and I am waiting here to see him as he passes. 
Poor old man! he has beeu in prison for a montii, and his health 
is so feeble. I went to see him last Thursday, an<l he looked so 
pale and thin ; he can't live long in Camp Chase. Have you a 
friend here?" she said, extending a look of anxious inquiry upon 

" Yes," said Evangeline, averting her head as she felt the blood 
rising to her cheeks. 

The crowd gave way, and the prisoners, under strong guard, 
marched from the gateway to the middle of the street and formed 
in line. Evangeline, from where she stood, could only catch a view 
of the two who were in front. She scanned their features closely 
as they sstood with bold defiant air bent on the gazing gaping as- 
semblage that lined the sidewalk on either hand. 

A few minutes and the last one had fallen into the ranks. Then 
cainfe the order, '•'March !" With elastic step and stern unyielding 
front, the head of the column reached Fifth and turned (»ut to- 
wards the river. Scrutinizingly Evangeline searched each face. 
Pair by pair went on, but Harry was not of them, '^ He must 
have escaped," said Evangeline to herself, beginning to feel the 
risings of hope in her bosom. " Strange I should not have heard 
it; but perhaps he had no time — had to flee to the country." 

She was solacing her heart with tliis thought, when she heard a 
voice say '" Good-by, good-by." Instantly she pressed nearer to 
the passing column. It was the old uncle addressing his niece, 
who had thrown up her veil so as to be recognized, and who by 
a signal had attracted the attention of the old man. 

Scarcely had the young girl recovered from the shock this sud- 
den surprise had given her, when she heard her own name pro- 
nounced in tones all too familiar. Harry had seen lier, knew her, 
and had pronounced her name as he passed rapidly by. 

''Harry !" was the only response of the excited girL, as she saw 
the young man in advance of where she stood. 

''Come, go with me to the boat," she said to the female beside 
her, " we shall see our friends there — it will be the last time;" and 
she seized the arm of the woman convulsively, who, without time 

352 KAEDS JlND eomaxce 

to reflect, yielded without remonstrance, and the two set out with 
the running mass to follow the prisoners. 

"^NTobody will notice us," said Evangeline, feeling that perhaps 
the woman might have some reluctance to accompanying her in 
this strange and summary manner. '* The whole city is in an up- 
roar to-day : they will think we are endeavoring to flee." 

The female allowed herself to be led along. " Come quickly, 
we must pass them and reach the boat first. See! it wants only 
fifteen minutes of the time. "VTe will not get to see." 

Pressing on through the moving tide of human beings that 
crowded every street, Evangeline and her friend succeeded in gain- 
ing the wharf in advance of the prisoners. Selecting a position by 
which the men must pass as they filed on board the boat, which 
already awaited them, they paused until the column, the front of 
which was already in view, should reach them. A moment, and 
the advance had passed. Riveted to the spot, Evangeline gazed 
on each passing form, until her eyes rested on Harry. Just as he 
reached her, the column was ordered to halt. 

"Harry," she said, as she rushed to his side, " why didn't you 
come ?" 

" The guard, Evangeline — the guard deceived me." 

"And can't you get away, dear Harry?" she whispered low, as 
she saw the soldiers nearing the spot where she was. 

" Impossible — impossible! I will try at Cincinnati. If I don't 
succeed there, I will surely get away from Camp Chase." 

" Oh, Harry—" 

"Don't be distressed, Evangeline," broke in the prisoner, as he 
saw the look of hopeless despair that gathered on the sad face of 
Evangeline. " A few weeks more, perhaps a few days, and I shall 
be in Kentucky again. Tell my father, Evangehne, what I say, 
but breathe it to none other." 

The young girl regarded her lover with amazement, — so calm, 
so cheerful, so hopeful, while she Saw nothing but distress and suf- 
fering: she could not realize that the scene before her was reality. 

" Bragg will be here in a day or two, Evangeline, then you will 
have freedom, and we shall meet again. Rest assured I shall get 
out, and tlie Confederates will hold the State." 

" God grant it, Harry ! but, oh, my heart fears. Harry, you 
don't know what I have suffered since you have been in that 

"I know, Evangeline. It is hard to bear, but these are times 
of trial, and we must not shrink from suffering. God shield you 


from all harm. Be brave, never yield, Evangeline. We will meet 

The order was given to advance. Harry grasped the hand of 
the young girl, looked upon her witii an expression so full of love, 
that, as sad as it was to Evangeline's heart, it thrilled it with glad 
emotion. And with a " God bless you, my dear girl, I'll write you 
soon," he followed on. Once he turned to look back ; Evangeline's 
eyes were fixed upon him, and there she remained gazing, gazing, 
until he mounted the steps to the boat, where, apart from the 
rest, he stood to bid her a last adieu. She returned his salutation ; 
then tearing herself away, she leaned on the arm of her yet un- 
known friend, and ascended the slope that led from the river to 
Main-street, from whence she found her way with slow and pen- 
sive step to her now desolate home. In her own room, apart 
from all society, she remained engaged with her own plans and 
thoughts throughout the remainder of that eventful day. 




"When, on the morning of the 4th of September, tlie Confed- 
erate army, under General Kirby Smith, consisting of the divis- 
ions of Generals Claiborne and Heath, and two brigades,.one from 
Texas, the other from Arkansas, commanded by General Cliurch- 
ill, marched into Lexington and through its streets, it was every- 
where received with the loudest attestations of sympathy and 
welcome. The streets were thronged with tliousands of men, 
women, and children, waving red and blue ribbons, small Hags, 
handkerchiefs, and who with smiles and tears hailed with joyous 
acclaim the presence of the men who had come to deliver tliem 
from the presence of the insolent oppressor. Windows and galler- 
ies — indeed, all available points — were tilled with delighted spec- 
tators, who appeared to rival each other in their manifestations of 
gratitude and happiness. 

It was a glad scene — one well calculated to cheer the hearts of 
these toil-worn soldiers. Everywhere substantial evidences, in 
the way of baskets of provisions, and buckets of cool refreshing 
water, met the hungry, thirsty men, hundreds of whom were, in 
addition to this, presented with shoes, blankets, hats, overcoats, 
and tobacco. Their passage through the town was a grand ova- 
tion. Never did Roman em[)eror, on returning from the scene 
of victorious conflict, laden with the spoils of triumph, meet with 
more enthusiastic welcome tljan did those weary, battle-stained 
men, who had endured every hardsliip, overcome every obstacle, 
surmounted every difficulty, that Kentucky might be free. All 
liianks to them. Let their names be perpetuated in all future 
liist(jry as heroes who dared, and suffered, and bled for the right. 

But if the reception of the infantry was enthusiastic, what shall 
we say of that of Colonel Morgan and his men, who now, for the 
tirst time in ten long months of toil and danger, returned to the 
homes of their childhood, the bosom of their loved families? The 
sc6ne was one wliich utterly deties description. The bells through- 
out the city pealed out joyoualy — men, women, and young boys 


and girls, with smiles, tears, shouts, and cheers rushed into the 
streets, waving white handkerchiefs and small Southern flags, and 
making the very air resonant with the strains of wildest joy. 
Wives pressed hushauds to their bosoms; parents clasped sons in 
aftectionate embrace. General gladness reigned throughout the 
vast multitude, and for hours the most intense excitement every- 
where prevailed. No class was exempt. Even the negroes were 
eager participants in the universal enjoyment. 

Colonel Morgan's forces were allowed but a short time to recu- 
perate. But during this brief interval, the boys, forgetting all 
they had endured, gave themselves up unrestrainedly to the joys 
of home and society. They visited their sweethearts, went riding 
with old friends, dashed out, into the country, and were toasted, 
feted, welcomed, everywhere. 

A detachment of Colonel Morgan's forces was then sent forward 
northward as far as the five-mile house, in front of Covington, 
where for three days they menaced the enemy, driving up iu front 
of his hastily constructed rifle-pits. Falling back from this point, 
they returned to Georgetown, and from there passed iiastily on, 
with the view of intercepting the Federal General Morgan, iu his 
retreat from Cumberland Gap. 

The Friday following General Bragg s occupation of Bardstown 
and the issuance of the Federal General Xelson's order for the 
women and cliildren to leave Louisville, General Buell readied tlie 
city with his worn and jaded army, and assumed command of the 
place. This restored confidence to a great extent, as he was re- 
garded by both parties as a wise and prudent man, who would not 
unnecessarily bring fear and suflTeriug on the inhabitants. 

A week from the date of General Nelson's order, he lay a 
corpse at the Gait House, having been shot by JefF. C. Davies', of 
Indiana, in an altercation provoked by himself. Troops were 
hourly pouring into the city from across the river, to swell the 
already heavy army of Buell, The fortifications were also being 
strengthened in every possible way, and the panic which for days 
had reigned universally was but little abated. During all these 
days of internal suspense. General Bragg was quietly resting at 
Bardstown, seemingly awaiting the development of General Buell's 
plans. His advance pickets had been thrown forward to within a 
few miles of Louisville, and thus the city was constantly menaced. 
Evangeline Lenoir was aroused early on the Saturday morning 
following her farewell to Ilarry Roberts, by a messenger bearing 
the following note: 


LonsTiLLE, Kt., Sept. 28, 1862. 

My Dear Etangelixe : — I have escaped from my captors, and 
am now safe at my father's house. Were it not for the fear ot 
betrayal, I wonlc^call to see you. But my recent sad experience 
makes me cautious. I shall leave before morning, to endeavor to 
make my way through to Lexington, to rejoin Colonel Morgan. 
Dare I ask you — Will you follow me ? Will you forsake home 
and friends, Evangeline, for one who loves you more than life 
itself, and who will do all a devoted heart can do to secure your 
happiness? Once in the land of Freedom, we could be united, 
happy. As it is, we may never meet again. Say, Evangeline, 
will you meet me at Lexington ? I can write no more. 
Ever, my dear Evaageliue, yours, 


Evangeline stood as one electrified, while she read and re-read 
the note she held in her hand. As the breaking of the morning 
light to the weary pilgrim, who amid storm and darkness has 
■wandered on through the tangled maze of the trackless wild, was 
this joyous intelligence to the heart of Evangeline. Since the 
morning she had bidden Harry adieu, as the boat left the wharf, 
she had sorrowed hopelessly. All joy had fled her darkened soul 
— all hope died out in her stricken bosom. Confining herself to 
her room, avoiding all company, she brooded over her deep grief 
and bitter disappointment until her brain was frenzied, and life 
became a weary burden. The wild excitement which prevailed 
throughout the city failed to win her attention for a moment ; and 
when at table Mr. Terrant would rally her over her silent and 
despondent appearance, she would only smile faintly, and reply 
that nothing distressed her but the dreadful condition of the coun- 
try. Her uncle, unsuspecting man as he was, ascribed her gloom 
to her disappointment at her delayed marriage with young Lasley. 

This gentleman, fearful of being pressed into the ranks of the 
" refugee defenders" of the city, had wisely availed himself of the 
furore of Monday to return to his home at Bardstown. He re- 
mained in Louisville long enough to see his hated rival conveyed 
to the boat which was to bear him to Ohio. Then, as if satisfied 
that he was avenged, he hired a buggy and set off at full speed for 
a place of security. 

''I will go," said Evangeline, determinedly, to herself, as she 
read again Harry's earnest request. A thousand obstacles rose up 
to prevent the execution of her design, but she heeded them not. 


Undaunted she looked at tliem, and wliere she could not devise a 
plan to surmount them, she left the difficulty unsolved, and 
trusted herself to some uuforeseen interposition in her behalf. 

After breakfast, she ordered the carriage, and drove out to Mr. 
K.'s, to see Mary Lawrence. As soon as she found an opportunity 
to speak with her alone, she showed her Harry's note, told her of 
her decision, and requested her advice. 

"We will go together, Evangie," said Mary. 

*'And when shall this be?" asked Evangeline, earnestly. 

"Just as soon as it is ascertained that the Confederates are 
going to leave the State. There is still a hope that they may 
come to Louisville, and the strong possibility is they will hold 
Kentucky. The difficulties of getting through are so great, we 
will not risk the trip until it becomes necessary." 

"But, oh, Mary, what if the army should go out, and we be 
lett behind ?" 

" That can scarcely occur, Evangie. We shall, most undoubt- 
edly, have some warning— sufficient to enable us to prepare and 
get through." 

" Have you spoken to any friend, Mary, of your intention to go 
to Lexington?" 

"Oh, yes." 

"And do they approve this plan you have just mentioned ?" 

" Yes ; it is the advice of all my friends. This is why I have 
adopted it." 

"And you will let me know, Mary, when you determine to go ? 
I must make some preparations, and I will attend to it immediate- 
ly, so as to be ready at a moment's warning. But how shall we 
go, Mary ?" 

"In a carriage. There is left to us no other alternative. All 
the railroads are broken up, and no stages are running now on any 
of the old routes. We can hire a carriage for the trip, and go by 
way of Bardstown. I have an aunt there, and a cousin who will 
go through with us and protect us." 

" But who will take care of us to that place, Mary ?" 

''Lu's brother can go with us. I know the way well, have 
travelled it often, and would not feel the least afraid." 

Evangeline, having arranged the whole plan witli her friend, 
returned to the city to make such preparation as she thought 
necessary for the trip before her. 

On reaching her room, she found a letter on her table from her 
aunt. It was directed to Mr. Terrant, and in a handwriting she 


(lid not recognize. Seizing it. slie rend it liastily tlirongli. It 
was an urgent request for Mr. Terrant and lierself to set out im- 
mediately for Indianapolis to see her aunt, wlio was confined to 
her bed, seriously disabled by a fall she had received in descend- 
ing the steps of a hall wliere she had been in attendance to hear a 
war speech. The appeal was most forcible, the language setting 
forth the extent of the sad accident, and Mrs. Terrant's most 
• earnest desire to see her husband and niece. Looking again at the 
table, Evangeline discerned a note which had fallen on the carpet. 
It was addressed to her by her uncle, telling her that he would 
make every preparation to leave on the evening train for Indian- 
apolis, and she must be ready to accompany him. 

"I cannot go," soliloquized Evangeline, as she threw herself 
into the large arm-chair that stood before the bright coal-fire that 
was blazing in the grate. "I cannot go, and it is no use to talk 
about it. The Confederates may leave the State while I am 
away, and then I should never get South, and Harry would think 
I had deceived him, and Lasley will annoy me to death with his 
importuaities ; not that he loves me — no, no — the creature is 
incapable of love — but he is determined to marry me, merely be- 
cause he cannot bear to be disappointed in his desires. Poor, 
dear aunt, I do wish I could see her, — she has always been so 
kind to me; and now she is away from home, and suffering so, 
too. I ought to go. It will be so ungrateful in me to refuse, 
when she is so anxious to see me. She knows I can nurse her 
better than any one else. And what reason can I give for stay- 
ing at home ? I have none. Oh, I will have to go !" she added, 
after a pause ; " and then if the Southerners should go out before 
I can get Ifick, what shall I do — what shall I do ! I cpji't stay 
long. But how am I to get back? It will not do to reave her 
until she is well — this would be so unkind. Oh, me, what shall I 
do ! I cannot go. But what reason can I offer uncle for re- 
fusing? I cannot tell him I am sick, though mercy knows I have 
suffered enough in the last week to kill me. I dare not say I am 
afraid to go, for that is a place of safety — this of danger. And to 
urge any dislike to the Yankees, when my poor aunt needs me ! 
Oh, that I was ready to set out for Lexington this very hour ! I 
would run all risks, take all consequences, if I could but get 
through. The world might say what it could, it could not harm 
me then." 

She took up the letter that had been lying on her lap during 
her soliloquy, and read it again. " I shall have to go to poor, 


«lear annt. I would never forgive inysolf if slie slioulil die and I 
not see lier. I will stay a few days, and then coine back. But 
bow can I gc-t away? Aunt will ibink so strangely of my wish- 
ing to return bef(.ro sbe is well. I mmt go, and I must return in 
a few days," she said, energetically, as sbe arose and walked to 
tbe window. 

The carriage stood wailing to take ber down tbe street. Paus- 
ing a moment to consider, sbe took ber escritoir, wrote a note to 
Mary Lawrence, explanatory of circumstances, and urging upon 
ber to write to lier at Indianajmlis eacb day, tbat sbe migbt be 
kept informed of wbat was passing, and of' tbe unfolding of ber 
plans. Tben ringing tbe bell, sbe ordered Emily to put ber 
ol.)tbes in ber trunk, and have every thing ready for her depart- 

** My small trunk, Emily. I shall be back in a few days. Put 
up such dresses as are suitable for a sick-room. I shall have no 
use for evening and dinner dresses, only wrappers and one or two 
street suits. Be careful, Emily, heed what I say to you." 

With these directions, Evangeline descended the stairway, and 
taking the carriage drove to one of the most extensive stores on 
Fourth-street. Alighting, she made such purchases as sbe de- 
sired, and ordering the packages done up directly, took them with 
lier to ber mantua-maker, where she left directions for the making 
of the dresses, requesting that they should be finished by tbe 
middle of the following week and sent home. From the mantua- 
maker's she drove to Merriman's cloak-store, and quickly selected 
a very genteel drab cloth travelling-cloak. Sbe then proceeded to 
her milliner's, ordered a travelling-bonnet, and calling at Mrs. 
Ritchy's foncy-store, purchased gloves, collars, bandke|chiefs, etc., 
etc. II:Wng bought all she deemed necessary, sbe returned home, 
and occu[)ied the time until dinner in preparing her travelling 
trunk, so that she might be ready on her return to set out for tbe 
Confederate lines at an hour's warning. As she placed in the last 
articles, including ber morning purchases, she told Emily to be 
sure to fold the dresses which would be sent home Wednesday 
evening of tbe following week, and put them in tbe trunk. 
" Going to travel again, Miss 'Vangie ?" 

"Perhaps so, Emily," she replied, carelessly, ''It may be I 
shall have to send for my trunk. I wish to have all things 

_ *'Yes, Miss 'Vangie, you are very right. These troublesome 
times it's well to be ready for any thing that turns up." 


The evening found her with her uncle, on their way to Indian- 
apoHs. On reaching tliat city, they found Mrs. Terrant far bet- 
ter than was expected. The injury, which at the time of the fall 
had appeared quite serious, upon further examination had been 
found to be comparatively slight, and the physician assured Mr. 
Terrant that his wife would be in a condition to return home in 
eight or ten days. 

On the fifth evening after Evangeline's arrival in Indianapolis, 
she received a hasty note from Mary Lawrence, informing her that 
she had decided to leave for Bardstown the following week, and 
urged upon Evangeline to return immediately. 

''What shall I do!" exclaimed Evangeline to herself, as the 
hand that held the letter fell heavily on her lap. " Aunt cannot 
travel yet ; uncle is gone, there is no one to accompany me. What 
shall I plead as an excuse for returning so soon ? and how can I 
persuade aunt to let me go alone? I must go — this I am deter- 
mined on, and must leave on the next train. If I delay, Mary may 
leave without me, and then all hope of getting South is gone — 
forever gone." Kising from her chair, she passed into her aunt's 
room and stood beside the large cushioned chair on which that lady 
was sitting. She bore the letter in her hand. 

" What news from Louisville, 'Vangie ?" asked her aunt, looking 
up and seeing the letter. 

" Oh, nothing unusual in a military point, aunty. This note is 
from Mary Lawrence, who urges me to return immediately." 
Evangeline hushed down her feelings, resolving to be calm. She 
had a part to play ; she must do it well, or all would be lost. 

" And what is the matter, Evangie, that Mary should request 
you to return at a time like this?" 

'* Some affair of her own, aunty. You know I must iWt betray 
confidence," and the gay girl laughed and blushed deeply. 

" Ah, you need not try to deceive me, child. Mary Lawrence is 
going to be married to Fred. Morton. Well, well, that is all right. 
If she ever intends to marry him she ought to do it now. Then, 
if he should be wounded, she can wait on him ; or if killed, she will 
have a right to mourn for him. But you cannot go, Evangie, for 
several days. You know it is impossible for me to accompany you 
now, and you cannot go alone. When is the wedding to be?" 

' Evangeline hesitated a moment. Should she continue to deceive 
her aunt, or, undeceiving her, depend upon her powers of persua- 
sion to influence her to let her undertake the trip alone? Intui- 
tively, for she had not time to reason, she concluded to let her 


aunt eDJoy her own opinion, and looking at tie letter again she 
answered : & , ^o 

^ " Siie says not a word about the day ; only urges me to come 
immediately, not to delay a moment." 

"But Low are you to go, Evangeline? It is impossible. She 
had better be married without you than for you to risk yourself 
alone, now that the country is so filled with soldiers travellin-r to 
and fro. Write to her and tell her you cannot come for a few davs 
As soon as I get well enough, I will go with you. Perhaps the 
case ,s not so urgent as she represents it ; and, moreover, if she is 
to be married in a day or two she can do without you ; it will be 
a small wedding, of course— very few present." 

'^Oh, aunty," said Evangehne most persuasively, "I do wish 
you could go with me; don't you feel well enough ? You know 
you can be still when you get on the cars ; I will attend to you 
- and the baggage ; you shall have no occasion to exert yourself at 
all I am so anxious to go. You know Mary is one of my dear- 
e^t friends and she has no sister, and no mother, aunty. She is so 

tTif rdiS'nit!" '' ' ""' '" '^ '" '^" ^ ^'^ "^"^^ ^^-^ ^-^-« 

-Let me see the letter, child. Does she give no reason why 
she wishes you to come right away?" 

"Oh, it is marked secret, aunty,"' replied Evangeline, her color 
deepening. "Mary wishes me to show the letter to no one but 
says come without delay. Can't you go, aunty ? Here is Dc;ctor 
Floss coming up the avenue-if he says you may go with me, won't 
you go this very morning ?" j b , wou l 

"Oh, my child, I cannot; even were I well enough, and I know 
I am not, I could not get ready this evenin- " ^ ' 

Dr. Floss entered the room. Evangeline made known her desire 

V ith me ? she is well enough for the trip, isn't she ?" The old man 

ditt; t^ttli^ "" ^'^^ ''''"'' '-'' -'' >-- -- ^^ - -- 

'^ Well, aunty, I will go this evening, and send uncle after you " 
she said most determinedly, thougli her heart beat doubtingly Is ' 

uiy duty to risk every thing to gratify Mary." 

.o7^'' f " r' ?''''^' doctor-will it be prudent for my niece to 
go to Kentucky alone in these troublous times 2" 

fe,n^' f T'°' ^^'"^ ^''^ ^^^° '^^''"^ ^^ Connecticut, where 
females travel unprotected, lookevl at the matter in a business-like 



view entirely, not for a moment considering it in the light of pro- 

" I think she might go safely, madam, if she is willing to under- 
take the trip." 

"Thank you, doctor, thank you," exclaimed Evangeline. " Dr. 
Floss knows there is no danger, aunty ; and you know I am not 
one bit afraid. How long before the cars leave for Louisville, doc- 
tor? will I have time to get ready?" 

" Just two hours before the western train will be in," said the old 
man, taking out his double-cased silver watch, which had measured 
the time for him the last twenty years of his practice. 

" Oh, I could get ready for a trip to Europe in two hours. 
Aunty, may I go ? I know you will not deny me. Doctor, won't 
you take me to the cars and see my baggage safely on them ? I 
shall have nothing to do but be quiet until I reach home." 

The doctor readily assented to acting as her escort. Her aunt 
protested against the undertaking, but Evangeline had too much at 
stake to submit to any opposition. Most wonderfully preserving 
her equanimity, she made all necessary preparations, and when Dr. 
Floss drove up at the appointed hour, she was ready, bonneted, 
awaiting him. 

Bidding her aunt an affectionate farewell, and enjoining her 
to come home as soon as possible, she seated herself beside 
the doctor, who drove her to the depot and placed her on the 
cars, attending to every minutiae that would enhance her com- 
fort. ^ 

In the excitement of achieving her purpose, Evangeline had had 
no time for reflection or reason. She could entertain but the one 
thought, that of reaching Louisville in time to set out with Mary 
Lawrence for Lexington. "When alone, as she was, left to her 
own reflections, the momentousness of the step she was taking 
rushed in upon her mind with overwhelming power, and she 
shrunk as the picture in all its grand and fearful proportions rose 
up before her. Tremblingly she contemplated it, and as she ex- 
amined it in all its shades and colorings, she stood back aghast at 
the magnitude of its gigantic dimensions. Should she succeed ? 
this was the momentous question. Once the wife of Harry Rob- 
erts, she defied the sneers and jests of the unappreciative public. 
She could look down from the heights of her security and laugh at 
those who would endeavor to assail her. But, then, the fearful 
opposite! Should she fail in her attempt, and her plans and futile 
endeavors be exposed to the cold, heartless world ! How could 


could ofver brooU t.,f de ' U^^i!':^'^'^'"^'" -'""' 
tion, which must ever haunt W lifr P ' ^ i'"5 """"'"^'"'- 
J... an, .deed. eote.. .' ^'f patlT.:" If S" ll 




The morning after Evangeline reached Louisville, she drove out 
to Mr. R.'s, to ascertain when Mary Lawrence would leave for Lex- 
ington. She found her young friend in the midst of preparation, 
but foiled in the plan which she had hoped to consummate on tho 
following day. She was now uncertain when she should leave. 
This gave EvangeHne more time to perfect her arrangements, and 
although it but prolonged the suspense which she felt almost un- 
endurable, yet, for some reasons, she was glad of the delay. Ap- 
plying herself with the utmost assiduity to the task before her, 
unadvised and unassisted, she succeeded, in a few days, in com- 
pleting all arrangements deemed by her necessary for the proposed 
trip. Her trunk was conveyed to Mr. Pw.'s, to await the day of 
departure. Her uncle, all unsuspecting, furnished her with what 
funds she desired, and with miser's care she hoarded them, that 
she might be ready to meet future exigencies. Meanwhile she re- 
ceived no intelligence from young Lasley. She had expected to 
be annoyed by the reception of letters, or perhaps the intrusion 
of his presence. Why he was thus silent she was at a loss to di- 
vine, but, amid her wonder, she was grateful to be relieved of this 
feature of her perplexity. Ah, could she have known what that 
silence portended — could she have read the secret workings of 
that heart, bent on its ever fiendish purposes — have understood 
its act of cruel revenge — how would her soul have sunk within 
her! how would she have fainted beneath the torturing burden ! 
Anguish, deep, dark, unutterable, would have seized the very life- 
springs of her being, and she would have sought death rather than 
Ufe ! Robbed of joy — her every hope perished — the light of the 
future changed to rayless darkness — what would there have been 
upon which the weary soul could have leaned for support ? what 
to which the poor broken heart could have looked for consola- 
tion? Well it was for her, surrounded as she was by uncertainty, 
her bosom each moment the prey of doubt and anxiety, that the 
ead intelligence could not reach her. Well, that while the cloud 


gathered over her pathway, she saw not its black folds — heard 
not its fearful thunders! 

Incarcerated in the prison at Bardsto^n. shutout froin the light 
of day, surrounded by a Federal guard, with the penalty of death 
overshadowing his soul, lay Harry Roberts, hopeless, sad, despair- 
ing. It was the 8th of October, the day of the sanguinary battle 
of Perryville. He knew not of the conflict that was then raging, 
all he knew was the wretchedness of his condition — the utter 
hopelessness of his future. And for the first time amid the varied 
fortunes that had beset his path for the last twelvemonth, did he 
despair. He thought of Evangeline, of his request, with which he 
felt confident she would endeavor to comply ; of her endeavors to 
join him, her hopes, her fears, the risks she would run, and then 
of her overwhelming grief when she should learn his dark fate; of 
the bitterness of her disappointment, the awkwardness of her po- 
sition, when she should find herself a stranger in a strange land, 
away from home and friends, alone, unprotected, exposed to the 
vicissitudes of war, with the deep mortification of failure to en- 
counter, the reproach of Union friends, who would rejoice at her 
sorrow and taunt her with her want of success ; of the entire 
helplessness of her Southern friends to extricate her from the tor- 
tures of her position ; — all this, like a living panorama, passed be- 
fore him to heighten his distress and increase the horrors of his 
imprisonment. Death, he felt, would be a sweet relief, were it 
not that the happiness of another was involved in his fate. But 
in his darkest moments the thought of Evangeline would nerve 
him, and he resolved that whatever fate awaited him he would 
live for her sake. 

Gloating with delight over his successful revenge, feasting with 
a fiendish joy at the contemplation of the picture of the distress 
he had wrought, Lasley delighted to recount to his friends in vice 
and dissipation the achievement of his desires. He had van- 
quished his hated rival, humiliated the heart of her whom he had 
professed to love, foiling all their plans, darkening their every joy 

Young Roberts, believing it more practicable to join the Con- 
federate army at Bardstowu than at Lexington, had attempted to 
reach that point. At every step he encountered the danger of 
discovery. His progress jvas retarded by the movement of the 
Federal troops, who now thronged every road from Louisville 
that led out in the direction of Bardstown. As he made his way 
cautiously from house to house along the route, he heard that 
General ]3ragg had left Bardstown, and was falling back upon 


Camp Dick Robipson. The rumors of his movements were con- 
flicting and unreliable, and Roberts determined to prosecute his 
first intention. Accordingly, he pursued his way to Bardstown. 
Reaching that place, he found it in the possession of Federal 
troops. Being known to no one save young Lasley, of whose im- 
placable hatred towards him he knew nothing, and being dressed 
in citizens' clothing, he felt no fear of recognition, and ventured to 
walk the streets in open day, to see if he could ascertain the true 
position of General Bragg, and his safest route to join him. He 
was walking leisurely along towards the hotel when he met Las- 
ley walking between two young men. The two immediately 
recognized each other. Roberts, smiling, bowed ; Lasley bowed 
coldly. The two passed on. After proceeding a few steps, 
Harry turned to look after Lasley. He discovered one of the 
men he had seen with him following on his steps, while Lasley 
and the other were hastily crossing the street towards a group of 
soldiers. Fearing that some evil threatened him, Harry made his 
way as fast as he could to the hotel. As he entered the door of 
the bar-room, he observed the individual that had been following 
him pass by the door and cross the street to the right. Harry 
stood a few minutes as if uncertain how to proceed. Then walk- 
ing to the door, he looked cautiously out. There was no appear- 
ance of danger — no blue-coats were to be seen in the street. He 
breathed more freely. Believing that his fears were wholly un- 
founded, he returned and quietly seated himself in one corner, 
where he would be free from observation. There were three 
other men in the room besides the bar-keeper, who were all re- 
joicing together over the certain retreat of the rebels from the 
State. Harry listened attentively to all they said, endeavoring to 
gather from their loud and confused statements any information 
that would serve him in the future. The bar-keeper joined the 
trio in their tirade of invective against the rebels, and the four 
were most unsparing in their wild denunciation of every thing 
Confederate. Harry felt the blood rush to his face, and the words 
to his lips, but prudence dictated silence, and he choked down his 
swelling indignation as best he could, and assumed an air of indif- 
ference. Looking out of the window into the cross-street, he was 
not aware of the approach of anyone, until he heard a heavy foot- 
fall at the door. He suddenly turned his head in that direction. 
His~gaze encountered three Yankee soldiers approaching him. 
One stepped forward, and laying his hand on his shoulder said, 
in a harsh tone, " You are my prisoner — follow me !" 


" How dare you arrest me !" said Harry, gazing sternly into the 
face of his captor, determined to try the force of bravado. It was 
his only weapon. " How dare you arrest me, I ask, a peaceable 
citizen! Show rae your authority." 

The soldier was a man of nerve, and returning Harry's look 
with one equally as firm and unyielding, he very quickly and 
without the least perturbation responded : 

" You need not try to deceive me. You are one of Morgan's 
men, who has escaped from prison. Come with me — no words, I 
have no time for discussion." 

Harry saw that he must yield. It was useless to resist. Calmly 
he arose from his chair and walked out between the soldiers. 
As he passed along the street that led to the prison, he saw on the 
opposite side Lasley and his two companions, who were laughing 
and talking together. He knew that he was the subject of their 
remarks, the cause of their merriment, and with the ferocity of 
a demon he scowled upon them^ It was all he could do. He 
dared not speak. He knew the heartlessness of his enemies. 

The prison-door was closed, he was left alone with his thoughts. 
Silent and morose he sat, dwelling on the hopelessness of his fate. 
The hope that had cheered him during his previous imprisonment 
was now gone. He could see no way of escape. He knew now 
that he should be watched with the greatest vigilance, from the 
fact that he had once evaded them. As he sat, sad and despond- 
ing, his head bowed, and his whole attitude expressive of the 
despair that filled his soul, he heard one of the guard outside say 
to another : 

" We have whipped the rebels all to pieces at Perry ville. A 
man has just reached here, and says they have been fighting 
there since yesterday morning, and are now fighting, and the 
rebels are being slaughtered like sheep." 

Harry started, and applying his ear to the key-hole listened 

The two continued their conversation only a few minutes. He 
gathered from what he heard that the Confederates were sadly 
whipped. Were this the case, he knew they would have to 
retreat from the State as best they could. It would be impossible 
for them to remain, if the first engagement should terminate so 

'' What will become of Evangeline ?" he said to himself, bitterly, 
as he resumed his seat on the old stool, and buried his face in 
his hands, while the great ^rops that he could not force back 


streamed through his fingers. " If I knew she was safe, I sliould 
ask no more. Oh, God, t'ake care of her, and shield her from all 
danger!" he exclaimed, vehemently, as he sprang from his seat 
and paced his narrow room. 

Haunted by his fears for her whom he loved, oppressed under 
a sense of his utter inability to aid her in any way, berefc of all 
hope in his own case, he was as one bereft of reason. Frenzied, 
he walked to and fro, imtil, exhausted from the severe exertion, he 
sank again on the hard stool. 

Could his heartless persecutor have seen him as he sat there, 
ready to sink under the weight of his fearful doom, surely he 
would have felt that he was fully avenged. This unfeeling crea- 
ture was revelling in dissipation and vice, while his victim was 
writhing in anguish. "Why, oh, why is it that the base and grov- 
elling are often so prosperous, are permitted to sit in high places 
and grind beneath their crushing injustice the protid and noble 
soul, who finds no means of defence, no power of redress ? 

"When these anomalous aspects of human society present them- 
selves, we are led to ask, is there a hand of inflexible justice deal- 
ing out to all, impartially, the reward of their deeds ? If so, why 
do the wicked and debased prosper, and why are the true and ele- 
vated dashed to tlie earth beneath their infamous power ? Philos- 
ophy cannot solve the question. Enigmatical it must ever remain 
to tliat man who seeks not its solution in the words of heavenly 
wisdom, which tells us, "When the wicked spring as the grass, 
and when all the workers of iniquity do flourish, it is that they 
shall he destroy ed forever. For yet a little while, and the wicked 
shall not be ; yea, thou shalt diligently consider his place, and it 
shall not be." 

Harry Roberts sat in his dark, noisome prison, filled with the 
most despondent thoughts. He could see no gleam of light, look 
which way he might. His future was without promise. He saw 
nothing before him but captivity, ending in death. He felt that 
having once escaped, he would hereafter be the object of increased 
vigilance and of additional insult. And when he looked away 
to the object of his soul's adoration, the gloom deepened, until all 
was cheerless night. Could he shield her from suffering, chagrin, 
disappointment, he would not murmur at his own fate. It was 
for Evangeline far more than himself that he sorrowed. But 
how unavailing all this grief! He could give her no assistance, 
no protection. To a proud, self-reliant spirit this sense of utter 
inability to shield or defend a loved gne is maddening. Eobbed 


of the power to exercise tlie right of protecting the weak and de- 
pendent, a noble man sinks in liis own estimation into notliingness. 
How many a brave, defiant Southern heart has had to endure this 
unspeakable humiliation since the war began ! 

"While Harry was thus groping liis way amid the darkness of 
the ])resent and future, Evangeline and lier friend, Mary, were 
pursuing their way towards Bardstown. Having obtained a per- 
mit, they entertained but little apprehension of annoyance or delay 
from the Federal pickets that guarded the road over which they 
had to pass. They were accompanied by "Willie R., the younger 
brother of Charley, who was to escort them to Bardstown, at 
which point they were to place themselves under the charge of 
Mary's cousin, who would give thein safe conduct to Lexington, 
if it were possible to reach that point; if not, they were to be taken 
within Confederate lines, and there remain until Mr. Lawrence, or 
his son, or young Roberts could be heard from. 

On the two girls travelled, the subjects of alternate hope and 
fear. At one moment the prospect before them appeared cheer- 
ing — the plan agreed upon so feasible, success so certain ; and 
then again all was doubt, diflBculty, failure. To Evangeline, who 
was leaving behind her all the friends and associations of her 
girlhood, bidding them adieu forever, to go forth into a strange 
land, where there would be but one heart to appreciate her sacri- 
fices — many to turn with coldness away, some to censure — to her 
young ardent soul the journey before them was one of the most- 
momentous bearing. "Vain were it to attempt a description of her 
varied and conflicting thoughts and emotions. Sometimes she 
would weep sadly, as the probabilities of disappointment and con- 
sequent mortification rose up vividly before her excited imagina- 
tion ; then again she was wild with blissful anticipations at the 
glad future that opened up before her, when, all her trials past, 
she would safely repose on the bosom of him for whom she had 
yielded up every promise which had so brightly beamed over her 
pathway — should listen to his burning words of love — receive the 
full and tender sympathy of his pure affectionate soul — rest on 
his strong arm for protection, and claim him her own for life. It 
was a strange, a novel undertaking for one so young, one reared 
in the indulgence of every desire, however wild or capricious ; but 
Evangeline possessed, all unknown to herself and her friends, the 
characteristics of a heroine. Independence of thought and feel- 
ing, determination to brave difficulties and endure hardships, a 
commendable freedom from the trammels of public opinion, will 


to accomplish undertakings although fraught with danger — all 
these were traits of character which a close observer would have 
marked as possessed by her. And now the incentive of love — of 
deep, deathless affection for him to whomshe had given her heart, 
.called into exercise and prompted to unwonted energy these ele- 
ments of character, which, for want of opportunity to make them- 
selves manifest, had been hitherto comparatively dormant. 

Mary shared her young friend's alternate gloom and joy. There 
was even a darker cloud in her horizon, one that overshadowed 
all the brightness of her future landscape. It was the uncertain- 
ty with regard to Charley's fate, which hourly haunted her 

" Is he dead ?" was the question that constantly recurred to her 
mind ; and the possibility that this might be so, took away the 
light that would otherwise haive gilded the eventful life she was 
now entering upon. That she should meet her father and brother 
she did not for a moment doubt. She had set out to do this, and 
she calculated upon no failure. She might encounter many diffi- 
culties, but it was practical and must be achieved. 

It was late at night when they reached Bardstown, they having 
been delayed on the way by the breaking of one of the axletrees 
to the carriage. Most persons had retired at the hotel at which 
they rested for the night, so that they had no opportunity of learn- 
ing any thing respecting the relative position of the two armies. 
Weary and worn they sought their room, after having partaken of 
a cup of tea and some cold bread which the landlord had hastily 
prepared for them. 

Morning came, and found them sleeping after the fatigue of their 
journey. The sun was shining fully when Mary awoke. It had 
been their plan to drive out to her aunt's before breakfast, that 
they might proceed several miles on their way during the day. 

Awakening Evangeline, the two made a hasty toilet and de- 
scended to the breakfast- room. They were but just seated at the 
table when three young gentlemen entered and placed themselves 
near the foot of the table, on the same side with themselves. 
Neither of the young girls looked towards them. They were 
scarcely in their places before a middle-aged man, who was enjoy- 
ing his coffee and hot roll on the opposite side, called out in 
rather a loud tone of voice : 

" Wl>at news this morning, Lasley ? I hear a courier is in." 

At the mention of this name Evangeline started, looked sudden- 
ly around, and turned deadly pale. The young man who sat next 


her observed the movement, and fixed his eyes upon her in cu- 
rious wonder. She was aware of his fixed gaze, and she strove 
to cahn herself. His companions reading his surprise in the ex- 
pression of his face, followed his example, and directed their look 
towards the head of the table where the two girls sat. Evange- 
line was trembling with emotion, vainly endeavoring to preserve 
an unmoved exterior. Mary saw her agitation, and measurably 
partook of it, as she realized that the attention of all at table was 
directed to them. Despite herself, the blood would mount to her 
face, and her hand perceptibly quivered as she conveyed the cup 
of coffee to her lips. 

Across young Lasley 's face there shot a look of triumph, and in 
his eye there gleamed an expression of revengeful satisfaction, as 
he became assured of the presence of his helpless victim. 

Elevating his voice above its natural tone, so that his words 
might reach the ear of Evangeline, he replied to the interrogatory 
of the gentleman : 

" The news is most gratifying, indeed. A courier just in from 
Perryville, brings the reliable intelligence that we whipped the 
rebels all to pieces on yesterday, and they are now flying, routed 
and panic-stricken, in the direction of Lancaster, making their way 
out of the State as fast as they can. Buell is sure to overtake 
them before they can reach Stanford, and the great probability is 
that the whole army will be captured." 

"Is it possible!" exclaimed the first speaker. "I fear this is 
too good to be believed. Is the man to be relied on ?" 

" Most assuredly. This is the news that is to be sent to Louis- 
ville. It is official." 

" And did we suffer much loss ?" 

"Pretty heavy, but by no means sufficient to delay an imme- 
diate pursuit. General Buell will move on this morning after the 
scattered and flying troops of Bragg. The Confederate campaign 
in Kentucky is at an end, sir. The army is literally destroyed, 
not one in twenty will ever get back to tell the story of their dis- 
astrous defeat." 

Mary and Evangeline sat like statues, pale and immovable. 
Riveted to their seats by the very horror of the intelligence they 
heard, they felt as if they should faint under its crushing weight. 
Tiiey looked at each other with an expression of fearful wonder, 
but neither spoke. They essayed to eat, that their agitation might 
not be observed. But they could not swallow their food, and 
trembling, hopeless, helpless, they sat listening to the conversa- 


tioD, every word of which fell like a death sentence on their 

" Oh, we will make short work of these invaders of our soil," 
said Laslej, his very tone speaking the gratification of his heart. 
" We'll teach them a lesson they will not soon forget. Their au- 
dacity is unparalleled. Who asked them to come into our State to 
steal, and thieve, and destroy ? What right had they to use Union 
men as they have done, and to possess themselves of our property, 
as they have been constantly doing? By the way, we have got 
one of these patriots, one of Morgan's men, in prison here — a fel- 
low that escaped from Louisville on his way to Camp Chase, and 
who had succeeded in getting this far on his route to the Confed- 
erate army." 

At this announcement the knife dropped from Evangeline's 
hand, her heart stood still, all the color forsook her face, her brain 
reeled, and she felt as if she would fall from her seat. 

" Yes, I heard something of it when I reached town on yester- 
day. Who is the young fellow ? and how did it happen he was 
recognized ?" 

Evangeline listened with her soul to catch Lasley's answer. 

" His name is Harry Roberts," replied the heartless wretch, 
slowly and emphatically. " He was sauntering along the street 
here, in all security, when I recognized him, and knowing that he 
was a fugitive from justice, I had him arrested and placed in con- 
finement until he can be sent back to Louisville." 

Evangeline could hear no more. She aro^, left the room, and 
finding, she knew not how, the chamber where they had slept the 
night before, she staggered to the bed, on which she threw her- 
self, and lay rigid, immovable, a? one bereft of life. Mary fol- 
lowed her quickly. Finding her in this frightful condition, not- 
withstanding her own heart was breaking, she set about restoring 
her to consciousness. Bathing her face in cold water, and apply- 
ing to her nose a small bottle of sal. volatile which she chanced to 
have in her pocket, and chafing her hands and forehead, she suc- 
ceeded at last in partially arousing her. The young girl opened 
her eyes, looked wildly about her, and then, with a shudder, 
closed them again and moaned. Mary was alarmed at her ap- 
pearance. Her first impulse was to call for aid, but feeling that 
their position was one that demanded the greatest caution, she 
determined to keep the whole matter as secret as possible. Dis- 
patching William R. for a servant to bring fresh water, she 
locked the door, lowered the blinds, and undoing Evangehne's 


travelling dress, and removing every thing that might impede 
circulation, she continued to- bathe her temples and rub her hands, 
at intervals applying the ammonia. After awhile Evangeline 
opened her eyes a second time, and gazed up imploringly into the 
face of her young friend, who was bending over her with all the 
tenderness of a sister. 

"" lie is in prison, Mary," she said, slowly and mournfully. 
'• My life is lost ; oh, that 1 could die !" 

"Do not talk so, Evangeline, there is yet hope," replied Mary, 
feeling that she must maintain all calmness and courage. "Bet- 
ter there than dead. We may yet manage to relieve him. Cliar- 
ley, you know, has been a prisoner three times. There is hope 
for Harry, certainly." 

Evangeline shook her head despairingly. " No, no !" she said, 
as she closed her eyes, while the great liquid tears rolled down her 

" Oh, yes ! there is hope, great hope, Evangeline. I will send 
for Lasley and get him to interfere. He can be influenced to 
exert himself in Harry's behalf. Don't give up ; it will all be 
right. These are times when we must not suffer ourselves to be 
overcome by difliculties, however insuperable they may appear." 

"But what shall I do, Mary ?" asked Evangeline, aroused by 
Mary's words and look of calm determination. 

" Send for Lasley, and appeal to him — surely he cannot be 
heartless ; he will interfere for Harry." 

" Oh, you do not know Lasley, Mary ; he is prompted by no 
motive but self-interest and gratification. I can appeal to him — 
but oh, it will be so humiliating ! yet for Harry's sake I could 
prostrate myself before him, and plead as a slave to his master; 
but it will be in vain — he will not hear me — his heart is hard, 
selfish, brutal." 

" But, Evangeline, it is the only hope I see for Harry's release. 
It may not succeed, but certainly the object is worth the trial ; 
and what is to be done must be done quickly. You heard what 
he said about the retreat of the Confederates from the State; it 
may already be too late for us to overtake them." 

"Send for Lasley, Mary; and yet, how can I meet him — 
how ask a favor at his hands?" she said, a look of disdain 
overspreading her face; "but it is' for Harry — for him I will 
liurable myself even to the dust. Were it for myself I would die 
— die before I would encounter this heartless, detestable man. 
Perhaps, Mary, he will not see me," she said, as she stood before 


the mirror, smoothing her dark hair back from her aching fore- 

" You can but try. "Willie has gone to ask him to the parlor to 
meet you there." 

" You must go with me, Mary ; I cannot see him alone." 

" Yes, Evangie, I will go with you, and give you all the assist- 
ance I can." ■ 

In the course of fifteen minutes, which appeared hours to the 
waiting girls, William R. returned and informed them that Lasley 
was in the parlor awaiting them. 

l^erving herself for the task before her, Evangeline, leaning on 
Mary's arm, descended to the parlor and confronted young Las- 
ley. As she met him, she felt all the spirit of defiance of which 
her nature was capable swell her bosom. Her face assumed a 
look of hauteur — her eyes fixed themselves resolutely on his — her 
proud lips compressed, while her nostrils expanded — that unmis- 
takable evidence of determination and conscious superiority. 

He received her with the air of one who, aware of his own per- 
sonal weakness, yet feels strong in the power of circumstances. 
Mary left them alone, and walked out on the gallery, 

" I come," she said to him as she seated herself, " to ask you if 
it is in your power to have Harry Roberts released from prison." 

" Indeed !" he responded, with bitter scorn. " Do you come to 
me. Miss Lenoir, to ask a favor ? to me, whom you have insulted, 
taunted, derided ? I would scarcely think you would ask of me, 
whom you have thus treated, to render you assistance — to aid my 
rival, my foe !" 

" Harry has ne^er injured you, Edward Lasley. Nor would he 
ask this at your hands — he would perish first — die in prison a 
thousand times rather. It is I — I come to beseech you for my 
sake, for the sake of humanity, of mercy, to act if you have any 
influence, any power." 

" When I besought you. Miss Lenoir, to have compassion on me, 
to relieve my feelings, did you do it? How did you act when I 
supplicated ? Did I not tell you then we would meet again ? and 
now my words are fulfilled. The scene is changed ; it is you who 
now sues. Should I heed your plea ? Remember your own scorn, 
your indifierence, your neglect! Though late, revenge has come 
at last ; we have met again. You shall never marry Harry 
Roberts. My words are now made good." 

"You knew, Edward Lasley, why I did not marry you. I told 
you I did not love you, that my heart was another's. Would you 


have wedded me with this fact staring you in the face? Could 
you have proved so false to yourself, to every pure and noble sen- 
timent, as to wish me to marry you when my atfections clung to 

" But I loved you, Evangeline. You promised to be mine ; you 
broke that vow, and refused to see me." 

'' If I have wronged you, Edward Lasley, I ask your forgiveness. 
I acted hastily in promising to marry you; I should have con- 
sidered the subject. Had I done this, I would not have fallen into 
this fatal error. But was it not best, right, just, when I found 
that I had acted unwisely — that I did not, could not love you — to 
tell you so, and thus save us both a life of misery ! Surely, Ed- 
ward Lasley, you cannot upbraid me for this. Why, oh ! why do 
you torture me ? Will you endeavor to have Harry released, or 
shall I plead in vain?" 

*' There is one condition, Evangeline, and only one, on which I 
will grant your request." 

" And what is this !" the excited girl exclaimed eagerly. " Say, 
say ! I promise any thing. Just release Harry, let him once again 
be free, and you may demand of me whatever you choose. I will 
grant any request. ITame it, name it!" 

'' Be careful how you promise," he replied, while his lip curled 
with irony, "you may have again to repent a rash vow." 

" Harry, Harry ! if he is free, I ask no more ! Any thing, even 
my life, to save him !" 

" The condition is" — and the young man fixed his eye intently 
on the girl before him as he slowly uttered his horrid stipulation. 
She trembled under his look and the ominous tone of his voice. 
" The condition is — and it is the only one — that you will marry me 
at the time mentioned in your last note." 

'' Oh ! heaven pity me !" ejaculated Evangeline, starting frantic- 
ally from her seat. '' Marry you, Edward Lasley ? marry you ? oh, 
how can you ask of me to do this ? Any thing, any thing but this. 
This is not the only condition ; it cannot be — you would not be so 
cruel— you could not make yourself unhappy for Jife — curse your- 
self and me. Oh, no! you do not mean this; you are jesting, 
sporting with my feelings. I beseech you, spare me ; oh, spare me !" 

Her manner was wildly excited, her face livid and rigid, her lip 
quivered, her voice was harsh and broken, she trembled in every 
nerve as the gazed upon him. He met her look coldly, calmly, 
unfeelingly. Around his mouth there lurked a smile of fiendish 
enjoyment — in his eye there rested a look of dogged determina- 


tioD. He spoke not ; but sat, his eyes riveted on the suffering girl, 
as if gloating over her anguish. Evangeline read his thoughts, 
and her heart beat wildly. 

"You do not ask me to marry you, Edward Lasley5" she re- 
sumed, after some moments' pause, during which he did not remove 
his steadfast gaze. " Oh ! you do not require this of me as the 
return for releasing Harry from prison! No, no! you will not be 
so cruel !" 

"Nothing more I ask — nothing less will satisfy my demand. I 
love you, Evangeline, and have determined to make you my wife. 
Say you will marry me, and Harry Roberts shall be free in an 
hour ; — refuse, and the setting sun shall find him in Louisville, on 
his way to a ISTorthern prison — and I suppose to death." 

" I do not love you — I tell you once again, I cannot love yon, 
Edward Lasley. How then could I ever consent to be your wife ?" 

" Marry me, and you will afterwards learn to love me. Marry 
me, I ask no more. I will risk all the consequences." 
/ She bowed her head, as if in deep thought. But how could her 
poor distracted brain think — reeling as it was with the horrors of 
the destiny that awaited her — let her choose as she might. Silent 
and bewildered she sat there, stupefied with grief. 

" You must answer me now, Evangeline. There is no time to 
lose. In half an hour the stage will leave for Louisville, and un- 
less you consent to ray proposal, Roberts shall be sent down." 

" Oh ! wait — wait — let rae have time to think. I cannot decide 
— the question is too momentous." 

" No time for wasting ; you must conclude speedily. A few 
minutes must decide the question forever. It rests with you." 

"Oh ! Harry, Harry !" exclaimed Evangeline, as she buried her 
face in her hands. " Must I make this great sacrifice? — must I 
marry him, and leave you forever? Oh! how can I do this! 
And yet, if I refuse, your life will pay the forfeit. We shall never 
meet again! Yes, yes," she said to herself, "if he can but be 
free, I am happy. To spare him, I will die ; yes, die. I will give 
myself for hira.'L 

"Do I understand that you consent to be my wife, Evangeline?" 
said Lasley, as these low-spoken words fell on his ear. 

She looked suddenly up at him. / 

" You will have Harry released if I promise you this ; you will 
not deceive me?" 

"I will not deceive you, Evangeline. Roberts shall be a free 


man and placed in a position of safety before the sun goes 

"Then I consent," she said, slowly, in a low, husky voice, as if 
her soul spoke out its eternal doom in these few words. 

" And will marry me at the appointed time ?" 

She bowed assent. 

"Remember, Evangeline, what you promise. Do not deceive 
yourself— think not to deceive me." 

She gazed at him, but replied not. 

"And when shall Harry be free?" she asked, as if she had 
naught else on earth to desire but his release and safety. 

" Very soon. I will go now and make the arrangements." 

" And may I not see him once— just once— to bid him forewell; 
to tell him all. Oh ! deny me not this request. It is but a pooi: 
one — the last one." 

" Yes ; you may go with me to the prison, Evangeline, but you 
must remain here until I can see about it. I will call in a few 
minutes and let you know." 

"And do you mean, Evangeline, to marry him?" asked her 
friend, who entered the room as Lasley left, and heard from the 
lips of the desponding girl the story of her fearful promise. 

"Oh, ask me not, Mary. I am wild, wild!" and Evangeline 
clasped her friend in the agony of despair. "Great God!" she 
exclaimed, "what have I done— what shall I do! Oh, Harry, 
Harry! must I be torn from you forever!" 

YouDg Lasley returned to announce that he was ready to go to 
the prison to see about the release of Harry. 

"Oh, go with me, Mary," besought Evangeline, as they ascend- 
ed the stairway to their room. " Go with me, Mary ; it may be 
the last favor I shall ever ask of you. Will you go through the 
lines, Mary ? Will you risk yourself in the present wild and con- 
fused state of things ? Oh, do not leave me ! Stay, stay, there 
may yet come relief." 

" I must go, Evangeline. You know all I hold most dear on 
earth is there. My father, my brother, and— Charley— if lie still 
lives. I grieve to leave you, Evangeline, but yorfknow my heart 
is with the South. I could no longer live amid the scenes of my 
once happy, but now desolate home. What awaits me in my at- 
tempt to get out, or what is before me in the future, I know not. 
It is all darkly wild, fearfully strange ; but I will brave it «1I, be- 
lieving it to be right." 

Mary threw on her hat and tied it, and was in the act of put- 


ting on her gloves to join Evangeline, who stood awaiting her, 
when "Willie R. rushed up the steps and into the room, exclaiming 
in broken accents : 

" Morgan ! — Morgan ! — Morgan is coming, Miss Mary ! Will be 
in this town directly with his men !" 

The two girls looked at the agitated boy in silent astonishment. 
Had he lost his senses ? 

" It's true ! it's true, Miss Mary ! I heard a man say so, who 
just now dashed into the town — says he saw them all." 

" He is deceiving you, Willie," said Evangeline. " Somebody 
wants to create an excitement." 

Just then a rush was heard below-stairs. The two girls ran 
down to the parlor to ascertain its cause. They there encounter- 
ed some ladies and several gentlemen, all in the greatest pertur- 

'^Morgan! Morgan!" was on every lip. 

" Is Colonel Morgan coming here ?" asked Mary, of the gentle- 
man next her. 

" Yes, miss ; is within a few miles of the place. Will be here 

" May there not be some mistake about it ?" 

" None in the world — it is so. I have seen two men whom I 
know to be truthful. They saw Morgan at the head of his forces 
but a few minutes ago, coming right in the direction of tlie town. 
The whole place is in confusion. Men are running to and fro, 
and the soldiers are scared to death." 

"Will they offer any resistance, sir?" 

" Oh, I suppose not. It would be useless to do so. There is 
comparatively but a small force here, and they have had so little 
warning, that they could not prepare to fight. Oh, no, they will 
all b^ made prisoners." 

Evangeline looked around. Lasley was gone. Her heart throb- 
bed violently as she thought that perhaps he had gone to see that 
Roberts was conveyed to some point beyond the reach of Morgan. 
By this time the hitherto quiet streets of the httle town were filled 
with frantic people hurrying to and fro. "Morgan! Morgan!" 
was on every tongue. Many were the bright faces in these busy 
throngs, as it became certain that the rumor was true. There 
were many friends to the Southern cause in Bardstown, ever 
ready to greet the champions of liberty and right. 

A few minutes more of suspense and wild conjecture, and the 
Confederates, headed by their gallant leader, dashed into the town 


amid the cheers, and shouts, and loud huzzas of the expectant 

As the deafening acclaim rang out on the air, Marj and Evan- 
geline rushed with others to the gallery of the hotel. What a mo- 
ment of rapture to these two anxious hearts ! 

"Freel free! Harry will now be free!" shouted Evangeline, 
forgetful of the presence of those around her. "Eree ! free! and 
I released from that fearful engagement! Oh, God! I thank 
thee !" and she clapped her hands in the deUrium of joy. 

" Be still, Evangie. Watch and see if you can find John, my 
brother. Oh, if he is only with them !" 

She had but just finished the words, when her brother came 
prancing by. He chanced to be looking in the direction of the 
hotel. As Mary caught a glimpse of his form, she shouted : 
"John, John ! my4)rother, my brother!" 

The soldier recognized his sister. A moment more, and she 
was clasped in his arms. 

In a few words Mary made known to him the story of Harry 
Roberts's imprisonment. Without delay he hastened to inform 
Colonel Morgan, who immediately sent a squad of men to open 
the prison doors, and set the prisoner free. 

" My God, Lawrence ! is this you ?" exclaimed Harry, as, open- 
ing the door of his narrow room, he met, face to face, the friend 
of his childhood, his deliverer. How came you here ? and how 
did you know I was in this wretched place ?" 

While he spoke, he continued to shake the hand of his friend 
warmly, his face speaking out the full gratitude of his soul. 

" We came to deliver you from the cljitches of the Yanks, and 
we have accomplished our purpose, you see," answered Law- 

"Thanks, thanks, a thousand thanks for your opportune pres- 
ence. I was daily looking to be sent to Camp Chase or the gal- 
lows. You know this is my second arrest, and I wasn't sure they 
wouldn't hang me. But, tell me, are all the boys here ?" 

" Come out and see. Are you so attached to your headquar- 
ters as to be unwilling to leave them ? Really it looks like it. 
You are a free man. Come, enjoy your liberty." 

Just outside the door stood Brent, Irving, Curd, and other of 
Harry's friends, awaiting his appearance. When they saw him 
they made the air ring with their shouts of congratulation. Each 
in turn grasped his hand, and shook it warmly, as they welcomed 
him back to the privileges of a freeman and a soldier. It was a 


hfippy moment for Harry, one he had never expected to realize. 
There was but one apprehension to mar his joy, that was fear for 
Evangehne. He longed to ask if any thing had been heard from 
her, but he deemed it so impossible that he dared not venture the 

The boys conducted him to the hotel. Following Lawrence, he 
entered the parlor. 

" Harry !" Evangeline could say no more, as she sprang from 
her seat towards him. 

He clasped her in his arms. Not a word escaped his lips. 
The tears rushed to his eyes, and fell from his manly cheeks. 

" Evangeline ! Evangeline ! Oh, God ! and you are here safe!" 
he said, as soon as he could find utterance. " How came you 
here, Evangeline ? Do tell me ! As soon would I have expected 
to have met an angel visitant from heaven as you. Did you know 
I was here? No, no, you could not. I thought you were at 
Lexington, or perhaps had not yet left Louisville." 

The young girl related to her lover the outline of lier adven 
tures. When she mentioned Lasley's name, Harry sprang to his 
feet, and asked where he could be found. She dared not tell him 
of the insult — the infamous promise extracted from her. She 
knew that Lasley's life would be the propitiation for his deep, 
damning wrong. 

" Oh, do not trouble yourself about him," interposed Lawrence. 
" Wickliffe will attend to his case. I expect he is now occupying 
your room at your late headquarters." 

'' There he goes now, I suppose," said Brent, looking down from 
the window. " Wickliffe has some young, black-haired upstart in 

There was a general rush to the balcony. Lasley looked up at 
the sudden movement. His eye rested on Evangeline beside Har- 
ry Roberts. The vanquisher was vanquished. His eyes fell to 
the ground, and he marched on powerless as a child, chagrined, 
disappointed. A short walk brought him to the jail. Conduct- 
ing him in, the boys left him alone to his own reflections. 

Mary immediately informed John of her intention to accompany 
him through to Tennessee. 

'• How can this be done, Mary ? It is impossible." 

"Not impossible, John. You and Harry must get a carriage, 
and send us under special escort. You tell me ladies have gone 
out from Lexington. There is Mrs. John C. Breckinridge and 
others now under the protection of General Bragg's army finding 


their way South. You know father expected rae through. How 
dreadful he must have felt when he found I did not come! He 
thinks I am in Louisville, of course, separated from him — perhaps 
forever. Oh, I must go through, let it cost what it may. I can 
take no denial." 

A plan was soon devised that promised entire safety. A vehi- 
cle was procured, and all arrangements made for the party to set 
out after dinner. John Lawrence was transformed into a plain, 
peaceable citizen, by donninjf the civilian's suit of black cloth that 
Evangeline had purchased to insure Harry's safety, and which she 
had taken the precaution to place in her carpet-sack while Harry 
readily metamorphosed himself into a soldier, by enrobing in 
John's military garb, and taking possession of his horse and all 

It was decided that they should travel as rapidly as possible, 
keeping under the protection of the cavalry force until beyond 
danger from the few Federals that were scattered around in the 
country intervening between Bardstown and Elizabethtown. 

i^ever did a happier party set out on a perilous journey. Ap- 
prehension had given place to a feeling of security, agitation had 
changed to tranquillity, sorrow to joy. 

On they travelled as rapidly as it was practicable, meeting with 
no danger, encountering no cause of alarm — a merry, cheery com- 
pany, where past trials were all forgotten in the bliss of the pres- 
ent, and the promise of the future. 

When between New Haven and Elizabethtown, the Confeder- 
ates encountered a wagon-train of supplies, guarded by a small 
Federal force. After a slight resistance on the part of the Yan- 
kees, the whole was captured and destroyed. This was the first 
acquaintance with the " art of war" that Evangeline and Marj' 
had had, and brave as they were, their hearts quailed as they 
heard the rapid clash, the quick, successive firing of the musketry. 
After this encounter, Colonel Morgan swept over the country be- 
tween Elizabethtown and Mumfordsville towards the Ohio river, 
and formed a junction with Colonel Johnson in tlie neighborhood 
of Henderson. His object was to secure recruits, and give oppor- 
tunity to the guerillas of these counties to get through into Ten- 
nessee, and in this he succeeded finely, accomplishing his purpose, 
besides destroying Federal stores at many points, and interrupting 
communication with Nashville, 




The two girls under the care of young Lawrence pursued their 
journey into Tennessee by the. way of Glasgow and Hartsville, 
and on the evening of the sixth day arrived at Mr. Jamison's, in 
the vicinity of McMinnville. Tlirough the kind assistance and 
direction of friends, they had avoided every semblance of danger. 
The trip had been one of fatigue and anxiety, but all this was for- 
gotten by the happy party, as they sat around the cheerful fire of 
the hospitable farmer and recounted their adventures. 

Mr. Jamison informed them that Charley had recovered, and 
had passed through his neighborhood a few days before, taking 
dinner with him. He was on his way into Kentucky to join his 

Mary's eager heart heard the intelligence of his recovery with 
a thankful joy which no words could portray, but when she was 
informed of his mission into Kentucky, fear and despondency 
seized her soul. She felt that fate was against her. She had 
risked all tq come to Charley, and now he was gone, perhaps to 
become a prisoner in the hands of the enemy. 

Evangeline endeavored to console her, by telling her that 
Charley would very soon obtain information of the Confederate 
retreat from Kentucky, and return to McMinnville. But her fears 
were aroused. She could see nothing but disappointment hover- 
ing over her future pathway. 

Imagine then her joy when, on the day following, Charley rode 
up to Mr. Jamison's. 

As Evangeline had said, he had learned that Colonel Morgan 
was coming out of the State, and knowing that he would likely 
establish his headquarters at McMinnville, he had returned to Mr. 
Jamison's to await him. 

The meeting was as unexpected to Charley as Mary, and their 
mutual joy at thus again beholding each other, after all the trials, 
suspense, and anxiety that had tortured their hearts during their 
separation, was akin to the bliss of Eden,— was as the light from 


the celestial spheres shining into theic souls, chasing therefrom 
every vestige of darkness and sadness. • 

Two days more, and Colonel Morgan, with his force now large- 
ly increased from different parts of Kentucky, arrived in the vi- 
cinity of McMinnville, and encamped in the neighborhood of Mr. 
Jamison. Harry Roberts was safe, and never were there happier 
Iiearts than the four that, on the evening of the arrival of Colonel 
Morgan's forces, assembled around the cheerful board of the kind 
host, Mr. Jamison. 

The evening passed in recitals of adventures and escapes. Each 
had a thrilling story to relate— a history in itself worthy of record. 
The rapture of the present was heightened by the remembrance 
of the trials of the past. 

There are times in the life of every individual when the bliss of 
years concentres in a few fleeting moments. No words can pic- 
ture the joy of such seasons. They are brief, but in their rapid 
flight they write remembrances on the soul as with the point of 
the diamond— remembrances which all the vexation, all the grief 
of after-life cannot wipe out from the tablet whereon they are en- 
graved. There they remain, unmarred, ineffaceable — a well-spring 
of rapture to the heart as long as it continues to throb. And in 
old age we look back from the gathering shades of years upon 
these green and sunny memories, and linger around their blissful 
haunts until the heart is young again, and our youth is renewed 
more potently than if we had drank of the famed Elixir of Life of 
the Oriental magician. 

Such a moment was the present one to the bounding hearts of the 
lovers. How quickly and effectually, as if under the magic wand 
of some kind genii, did all past sorrows, all apprehensions, fade 
out in the sunlight which was now flooding their enraptured bosoms ! 

We need not dwell in detail on the incidents of the few succeed- 
ing days, nor give our readers all the suggestions of the various 
parties as to the proper course to be pursued by the lovers. Suf- 
fice it to say, that after much debate, innumerable propositions 
and devising, a plan was finally adopted, and all necessary arrange- 
ments made for its speedy consummation. 

A week passed. Within the respectable home of Mr. Jamison, 
Colonel Morgan and staff, together with all the particular friends 
of Charley and Harry, and a few of the especial acquaintances of 
the family, were assembled to witness the marriage of Mary Law- 
rence and Evanffeline Lenoir to the two gallant soldiers, Charley 
R. and Harry Roberts. 


It was a cool evening ic October. That month of mingled sad- 
ness and beaut\'%-as bidding a last, an eternal farewell to earth. 
The hand of autumn had dyed, with richest hues, the foHage of 
the forest, and spread, with lavish beauty, over all nature a gar- 
ment of gilded splendor. But as the eye rested on this gorgeous 
vesture, the heart read beneath it all lessons of decay and death. 
The trappings of the tomb were visible through all the gay para- 
phernalia, and amid the sweet symphonies could be heard the low 
wail of the dirge which earth chanted for her bright and beautiful 
children, so soon to sleep forever in the deep, dark grave which 
bad relentlessly swallowed up, age after age, the offspring of her 
care and nourishment. 

The wind sighed, mournfully, the requiem of the dead. Through 
the boughs of the tall old trees it crept, waking them to notes of 
saddest music. In striking, genial contrast to the darkness and 
gloom without, was the happy, cheerful scene within. There 
glad faces beamed brightly, and heart went out to heart in kindly 
sympath3\ The bright wood-fire which blazed so determinedly 
on the hearth, as if resolved to add its quota to the general enjoy- 
ment, threw a cheery aspect over the scene ; and the glad faces 
of Mr. and Mrs. Jamison plainly spoke the pleasure it gave them 
to be active participants on an occasion so happy. It was a 
unique affair — so every one felt. But around it clustered so much 
of novelty, that the strangely pecuhar features of the occasion were 
lost beneath the interest that this very novelty excited. 

Dressed in deepest mourning, her face flushed into the most 
transcendent beauty, Mary Lawrence entered the room, leaning 
on the arm of Charley. He bore himself proudly erect, conscious 
of the responsibility of his position, and the consequences involved 
in the sacred relation he was about to assume. 

Immediately following them were Evangeline and Harry. In 
consonance with the circumstances, she wore a silk of dark olive, 
finished at the neck and wrists by a handsome collar and cuffs of 
Valenciennes lace. Her rich dark hair was combed back from the 
full round brow, and rolled into a heavy bandeau behind her ears, 
covering the back of the well-formed head. Some simple rose- 
buds were her only ornament. In making her bridal toilet she 
recalled the conversation that had occurred on the occasion of her 
friend Lu's marriage, and tlie handsome breastpin and bracelet 
were left in the case, and the place of the former supplanted by 
some fresh rose-buds. * 

It was a strikingly impressive scene. There stood two manly 


forms, animated bj as brave and daring hearts as ever tlirobbed 
in human bosom — exiles from their homes, defenders of the high 
and holy cause of liberty and right— the representatives of many 
a fiercely contested and successful battle-field — the escaped vic- 
tims of fiendisii hate and cruelty ; while beside them, leaning con- 
fidingly on them for protection and support, stood two beautiful 
females, who, raised in indulgence and luxury, accustomed to all 
that can make life pleasant, and throw around it the charms of 
elegance and refinement, had forsaken all these comforts and joys, 
had encountered hardship and danger, that they might solace in 
exile, relieve in distress, and comfort in affliction these brave 
men, to whom they had given the true, undying afl:ection.of their 
young and trusting hearts. Beautiful picture 1 Life does not 
often present its counterpart. 

The minister approached and stood before them. Alluding in 
brief, chaste words to tlie peculiar position of those who wea-e 
about to take upon themselves the sacred vow, he proceeded sol- 
emnly, yet beautifully, to unite them in the holy ties of marriage. 
And thus, after trials and sorrows, diflficulties and disappoint- 
ments, that but few so young are called on to. endure and over- 
come, these four tried but heroic hearts found at last the full con- 
summation of their hopes, the fruition of earthly joy. 

And here, amid their happiness, we leave them ; bid them fare- 
well, while gladness beams around their pathway, and fills their 
young and bounding hearts with bright visions of that future 
which beckons them on to fresh delights, and ever-awakening 
joys. We will not now anticipate and portray the cares, the 
anxieties, the fearful looking-for of news from the dread battle- 
field—the sickening, racking disappointment at tidings delayed — 
the nights of watching, the days of waiting, when the girl-wife, 
in the bitterness of separation from the young husband — gone 
forth to fresh deeds of valor and blood — shall wait, and watch, 
and pray, yea, faint, beneath the weight of disappointed hope and 
torturing suspense. Ah, no ! Let us nbt lift the veil that would 
reveal this painful panorama. The contrast would be too striking, 
too sad. 

Victories must yet be won ; many an ensanguined plain must 
yet attest the heroic and successful struggles of Morgan and his 
men, before a nation can shout, in loud and grateful strains, 
*' Victory ! victory ! ! independence ! independence ! !" 

That day approaches. The clouds begin to lift themselves from 
the horizon of our national future. Already the faint glimmerings 



of the day-dawn of peace are beginniog to throw their glowing 
light through the dark shades that have so long enveloped us. 
Let us hope for this glorious realization of our desires, pray for it, 
and, above all, let us put forth every energy, strain every nerve, 
avail ourselves of every resource, endure every hardship, sur- 
mount every obstacle, vanquish every difficulty, until this blessed 
era shall burst upon us, and we, a free and independent people, 
shall unite as wuth one voice in pxans of triumph and thanksgiv- 

Already, since the happy scene we have just described, have 
Hartsville, Elizabethtown, Muldrough's Hill, and other points 
borne witness to the indomitable spirit of Morgan and of Duke — 
of Hanson and of Hunt — of Harper and Gano — of Charley, Harry, 
Burt, Curd, Irving, Castleman, Wickliffe, Hawkins, young Mor- 
gan, and numbers of unknown heroes, whose endurances and 
achievements, full of chivalry and romance, will yet be added to 
the page of history, as deeds worthy the emulation and praise of 
their grateful and admiring countrymen ; and whose names, cov- 
ered with glory, shall become household words with a free and 
prosperous posterity. 





Is one, and the oldest, of six brothers^ all of whom, save one, 
have been active and useful in the present struggle of our young 
Confederacy, devoting their all to the great cause. Calvin C. 
Morgan has acted as an agent at home in Kentucky for the com- 
mand of his brother, and has undoubtedly done as much good in 
that capacity as he would have done had he been in the field. His 
third brother, Colonel Richard Morgan, is the adjutant-general of 
the junior Hill, and has been with that gallant officer through his 
whole campaign. The fourth brother, Major Charlton H. Morgan, 
is at present in his brother's command, having been recently trans- 
ferred from the army of the Potomac. When the present war 
broke out, Charlton Morgan represented the United States govern- 
ment abroad. He immediately resigned his position and came 
home to take his part in the struggle, and was the first member of 
his family to come into the Confederate States. Tlie fifth brother. 
Lieutenant Thomas Morgan, at present a prisoner at ^'Camp 
Chase," Ohio, was one of the first youths of Lexington to shoulder 
his musket and march to the defence of Kentucky. The sixth 
brother is yet too young to bear arms. 

General Morgan, as were all of his brothers, was born and edu- 
cated near the city of Lexington, in Kentucky, and is a lineal de- 
scendant of Morgan of Revolutionary fame. 

In 1846, during the Mexican war, when the call came for " more 
'colunteers,^^ John H. Morgan, then scarcely of age, raised a com- 
pany, and was just upon the point of starting when the news 
reached the States that a treaty of Peace had been concluded. 
"Well do the survivors of that company remember the conduct of 
their captain upon the disbanding of his company. Every man 
of the company (which was principally composed of young men 
dependent upon their labor for support) was indemnified for the 
loss of hi3 time during the period of recruiting. 'Twas at this 


time that Morgan gained the title of captain. The Kentuckians of 
his command still refuse to recognize or apply any other title to 
him than that of " The Captain." 

General Morgan is not a " West Pointer," but one of *ae few 
men who was born to commajid, as he has incontestably proven. 
He believes that it is his destiny to fight against a race of men 
whose every principle is so utterly repulsive to his own noble 
nature. His contempt for the Yankee character is great- and 
natural, and his daring deeds in this war show how thoroughly he 
understands it. 

Some time after the Mexican war, he purchased an establishment 
and engnged in the manufacture of jeans, linseys, aud bagging for 
the Southern market. About the same time he married the ac- 
complished Miss Rebecca Bruce (whose traitor brothers are all 
against us in this war). After years of suffering from sickness, 
she died about the commencement of the present troubles. After 
performing the last sad rites to his departed wife, he immediately 
and secretly collected a little band of followers, not over twenty- 
five in number, and left the country, making his way to Green 
river, where he reported himself to the Confederate oflicer in 
command *' ready for duty." His band was rapidly increased by 
the arrival of exiles from Kentucky, who knew well the worth and 
valor of the man as a leader. 

His command, upon reporting, were placed, with some other 
cavalry, upon picket duty on the Green river, where he began a 
series of bold and daring exploits, which are unequalled for their 
boldness and the manner of their execution. 

It was his determination when he left his home in Kentucky, 
should his command ever become numerous enough, to return aud 
drive out the crop-eared Puritans, who, through Kentucky's gen- 
erosity, had quite ruined his native State, by overrunning it and 
driving her sons to the States of the Southwest. 

A little incident, showing the strategic powers of Morgan, is 
here worthy of mention : • An order was issued by the authorities 
of Kentucky, from headquarters at Frankfort, that all the arms 
in the State should be forthwith forwarded to the State armory, 
there to be inspected and repaired for the use of the ^^ State 
Guard,^'' who were to maintain what the Union shriekers termed 
Kentucky's " Armed Neutrality." General Morgan, then cap- 
tain of the "Lexington Pvifles," was suspected of having evil in- 
tentions against the peace and quiet of "Uncle Sam," or rather 
that "old Hoosier," King Abraham. It was, however, known to 


all loyal Kentuckians that he was "a good man and true;" in other 
words, that he was for his State first, last, and all the time. Henco 
the Lincolnites kept a sharp eye on the guns held by Morgan's 
company. Morgnn knew that they had determined to get the 
arras out of his h^nds, and issued the order mainly for that pur- 
pose. And he, in turn, had determined that they should not have 
them ; so, in the dead of night, they were removed some dis- 
tance from t^ie city, and the boxes, in which they were to have 
been placed, neatly filled with bricks instead, and marked " Guns 
from Captain Morgan,, State Armory,^ Franl-forty Good care 
was taken that the boxes should reach the depot at Lexington jwsi 
too late,, and there they lay exposed to public view. The Lincoln- 
ites received the boxes with un'^peakable delight, winking and blink- 
ing at one another, supposing that they had fixed Morgan and his 
Secesh company, and flattering tliemselves that they had for once 
in their lives defeated a man who had always been as a thorn in 
their sides. That night Captain Morgan, in command of his brave 
band, passed through Lawrenceburg, Ky., a distance of twenty- 
five miles from Lexington, having in their possession eighty fine 
rifies belonging to the Yankee government. 

At the commencement of the present struggle. General Morgan 
was possessed of great wealth, all of which he left in the hands 
of the enemy when he came South. He has ever been a public 
spirited gentleman, and dispensed his means with a liberal hand 
for the public good. There are many who can testify to his quiet 
manner of doing good. There is no man living who can say of 
John H. Morgan, that he went to him " tired and hungry, and he 
fed him not ; he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not." 

General Morgan is now about thirty-six years of age, and in the 
full vigor of manhood. He is about six feet in his stockings, as 
straight as an Indian, and magnificently proportioned ; light curly 
hair, small gray eyes,* and fair complexion. His general appeflr- 
ance is that of a gentleman of leisure — his carriage exceedingly 
graceful and manly, with rather an inclination to be fastidious in 
his dress. His modest, unassuming style of speech, when ad- 
dressed, at once assures you that you are in the presence of an 
unpretending, thorough-bred Kentucky gentleman. Unlike many 
other of the great men of war, though a man who entertains great 
respect for religion, he is not a member of the church. His deeds 
have been heralded throughout the broad limits of the universe, 
and his name will be cherished wherever the " Stars and Bars" of 
his beloved Confederacv wave. 



Richmond, Ya., Friday, July 31, 1863. 

Messbs. Editors : — As much interest has been manifested in 
reference to the recent raid of General Morgan, I have tliought it 
but right to add ray "mite" to assist in appeasing the appetite of 
the pubhc, who are eagerly devouring every morsel or crumb of 
news coming from General Morgan's command. Sincerely sorry 
that the Federal gunboats cut off the finishing of the account, I 
shall at once commence. 

The command of General J. H. Morgan, consisting of detach- 
ments from two brigades, numbering 2,028 effective men, witli 
four pieces of artillery — two Parrots, and two howitzers — left 
Sparta, Tennessee, on the 27th of June, crossed the Cumberland, 
near Barkesville, on the 2d of July, finished crossing at daylight 
on the 3d. Means of transportation — canoes and dug-outs, im- 
provised for the occasion. Were met by Colonel Hobson's cav- 
alry, estimated at 6,000, drove them back to Jamestown, Ky., 
and our column marched on through Columbia, at which point 
found the advance of Woolford's celebrated Kentucky Cavalry, 
numbering 250 men, dispersed it, killing seven and wounding fif- 
teen men. Our loss, two killed and two wounded. 

Marched on to Stockade, at Green river, on the 4th. Colonel 
Johnson, commanding the second brigade, attacking stockade, 
rifle-pits, and abattis of timber. After heavy slaughter on both 
sides, our forces withdrew : loss about 60 killed and wounded on 
each side. Of Morgan's command, the gallant Colonel Chenault 
fell, pierced through the head with a Minnie ball, as he led his 
men in a charge upon the rifle-pits. The lioo-hearted Major 
Brent also poured out his life-blood upon the field. Indeed, this 
was the darkest day that ever shone upon our command — 11 
commissioned oflicers were killed and nine wounded. Moving on 
to Lebanon on the 5th, we attacked the town (fortified), and after 
five hours' hard fighting, captured the place, with a vast amount 
of stores, 483 prisoners, one 24-pounder, and many fine horses. 
The commandant of the post Avas Colonel Charles Hanson, brother 
to the lamented Brigadier-general Roger Hanson, who fell at 
Murfreesboro. His command, raised in the heart of the Blue- 


grass region, containeil brothers and other near relatives to our 
brave boys; notwithstanding which, when the gallant patriot 
young Lieutenant Tom Morgan, a brother to our general, and idol 
of the command, fell, loud and deep were the maledictions that 
ascended against the cowardly cravens for seeking shelter in 
dwelling-houses, and the question was raised as to their right to 
receive quarter. The enemy lost nine killed and 15 wounded; 
our loss, three killed and six wounded. 

Rapid marches brought us to Brandensburg on the 7th, where 
Captain Sam Taylor, of the old Rough and Ready family, had 
succeeded in capturing two fine steamers. From eight a. m. on the 
8th until seven a. m. on the 9th, was consumed in fighting back 
the Federal gunboats, whipping out 300 Home Guard;^, with artil- 
lery, on the Indiana shore, and crossing the command. The first 
was accomplished by Captain Byrne, with his battery — two Par- 
rots and two 12-pound howitzers; the second, by an advance 
regiment, capturing the guards, and securing a splendid Parrot 
gun, elegantly rigged. 

9tii.— Marched on to Corydon, fighting near there 4,500 State 
miUtia, and capturing 3,400 of them, and dispersing the remainder; 
then moving without a halt through Salisbury and Palmyra to 
Salem, at which point, telegraphing with our operator, we first 
learned the station and numbers of the enemy aroused for the 
hunt; discovered that Indianapolis was funning over with them; 
that New Albany contained 10,000; that 3,000 had just arrived 
at Mitchell ; and, in fact, 25,000 men were armed and ready to 
meet the "bloody invader." 

Remaining at Salem only long enough to destroy the railroad 
bridge and track, we sent a scout to the Ohio and Mississippi 
road, near Seymour, to burn two bridges, a depot, and destroy 
the track for two miles, which was efi:ected in an incredibly short 
time. Then taking the road to Lexington, after riding all night, 
reached that point at daylight, capturing a number of supplies, 
and destroying, during the night, the depot and track at Viennaj 
on the Jeftersonville and Indianapolis railroad. Leaving Lexing- 
ton, passed on north to the Ohio and Mississippi railroad, near 
Vernon, where, finding General Manson, with a heavy force of in- 
fantry, we skirmished with him two hours as a feint, while the 
main command moved round the town to Dupont, where squads 
were sent out to cut the roads between Vernon and Seymour on 
the west,. and Madison on the south, and Vernon and Columbus 
on the north. Is ot much brighter were the bonfires and illumin- 



atioDS in the celebration of tlje Vicksburg victory by the Yankees, 
than our counter-illuminations around Vernon. Many old ladiea 
were aroused from their slumbers to rejoice over the brilliant vic- 
tories recently achieved. Surmises were various and many. One 
old lady knew that the city of Richmond was on fire ; another 
that Jeff. Davis had been killed; a third that the army of Vir- 
ginia was used up. Not one knew that General John H, Morgan 
was within two hundred miles of them. 

Daylight brought the news, and then, for mile's, houses were 
found vacant. Loaves of bread and buckets of pure fresh water, 
with an occasional sprinkle of wines, liquors, and sweetmeats, 
were thrust upon us. Terror was depicted on every countenance, 
until a brief conversation assured them that we were not warring 
upon women and children. Then their natural effrontery would 
return, and their vials of uncorked wrath would pour upon us 
streams as muddy as if emanating from old Abe's brain. 

From Vernon we proceeded to Versailles, capturing 500 militia 
there, and gathering on the road. Near this point, Captain P., a 
Presbyterian chaplain and former line-officer in one of our regi- 
ments, actuated by a laudable desire to change steeds, moved 
ahead, flanking the advance, and running upon a full company of 
State militia. Imitating his commander's demeanor, he boldly 
rode up to the company ^nd inquired for the captain. Being in- 
formed that there was a dispute as to who should lead them, he 
volunteered his services, expatiating largely upon the part he had 
played as an Indiana captain at Shiloh, and was soon elected to 
lead the valiant Hoosiers against the " invading rebs." Twenty 
minutes spent in drilling inspired complete confidence ; and when 
the advance guard of Morgan's band had passed without Captain 
P. permitting the Hoosiers to fire, he ordered them into the road ^ 
and surrendered them to our command. Crestfallen, indeed, 
were the Yanks ; but General Morgan treated them kindly, re- 
turning to them their guns, advised them to go home and not 
come hunting such game again, as they had every thing to lose 
and nothing to gain by it. 

From Versailles we moved without interruption across to Har- 
rison, Ohio, destroying the track and burning small bi"Wges on the 
Lawrenceburg and Indianapolis railroad. At Harrison we burned 
a fine bridge. Leaving Harrison at dusk, with noi>eless tread we 
moved around Cincinnati, passing between that city and Hamil- 
ton, destroying the railroad; and a scout running the Federal 
pickets into the city, the whole command marched within seven 


miles of it. Daylight of the 14th found us eighteen miles east of 
Cincinnati ; sunset had left us twenty-two miles west, hut the cir- 
cuitous route we travelled was not less than one hundred miles. 
During this night's march many of our men, from excessive fa- 
tigue, were riding along fast asleep. Indeed, hundreds would 
have heen left asleep on the road had it not been for the untiring 
vigilance of our gallant general. Up and down the line he rode, 
laughing with this one, joking with that, assuming a fierce de- 
meanor with another, and so on. None were left, and when we 
reached the railroad near Camp Dennison, few persons would 
have guessed the fatigue the men had undergone from their fresh 
and rosy appearance. A fight was imminent. Madam Rumor 
had been whispering that old Granny Burnside would pay us a 
visit that morning, but instead of arriving, he sent us a train of 
cars with several of his officers, who were kindly received, and in 
honor of their arrival a grand fire was made of the cars, &c. 

Nothing of special importance occurred after passing Dennison, 
except at Camp Siiady the destruction of seventy-five army wagons 
and a vast amount of forage : until the morning of the 19th our 
command had heavy marches over bad roads, making detours, 
threatening both Chillicothe and Hillsboro on the north, and 
Gallipolis on the South. Daily were we delayed by the annoying 
cry of " Axes to the front," a cry that warned us of buskwhackers, 
ambuscades, and blockaded roads. From the 14:th to the 19th 
every hillside contained an enemy, and every ravine a blockade. 
Dispirited and worn down, we reached the river at three a. m., on 
the 19th, at a ford above Pomeroy, I think, called Portland. At 
four, two companies were thrown across the river, and were in- 
stantly opened upon by the enemy ; a scout of three hundred men 
were sent down the river half a mile, who reported back that 
they had found a small force behind rifle-pita, and asked permis- 
sion of General Morgan to charge. He assented, and by five he 
was notified that Colonel Smith had successfully charged the pits, 
capturing 150 prisoners. Another courier arriving about the 
same tim?, reported that a gunboat had approaciifed near our bat- 
tery, and, on being fired upon, had retired precipitatel}'. 

General 4forgan finding both of these reports correct, and be- 
lieving that he had sufficient time to cross the coumiand, was us- 
ing every exertion to accomplish the task, when simultaneously 
could be heard the discharge of artillery from down the river, a 
heavy drumming sound of small-arms in the rear and right; from 
the banks of the river came up three black columns of infantry, 


firing npon our men, who were in close column, preparing to 
cross. Seeing that the enemy had every advantage of position, 
and overwhelming force of infantry and cavalry, and that we 
were becoming completely environed in the meshes of the net set 
for us, the command was ordered to move up the river, double 
quick. The gallant field, staff, and line officers acted with decis- 
ion and promptitude, and the command was moved rapidly off the 
field, leaving three companies of dismounted men, and perhaps 
200 sick and wounded men, in the enemy's possession. Our ar- 
tillery was doubtless captured at the river, as two horses had been 
killed in one place, and one in each of two others, and the mount- 
ain path, from which we made our exit, was too precipitous to 
convey them over. Two lieutenants and five privates were known 
to have been killed on our side. 

After leaving the river at Portland, the command was marched 
to Belleville, some fourteen miles, and commenced fording, or 
rather swimming, at that point. 330 men had effected a crossing, 
when again the enemy's gunboats were upon us — the iron-clad 
and two transports. Again we moved up the river. The second 
brigade, commanded by Colonel Adam Johnson, was ordered to 
cross, guides having represented the stream as fordable. In 
dashed the colonel, closely followed by Lieutenant Woodson, 
Captain Paine, of Texas, young Rogers, of Tgxas, Captain Mc- 
Clain, A. C. S., second brigade, and myself. The colonel's noble 
mare falters, strikes out again, and boldly makes the shore. 
Woodson follows. My poor mare, being too weak to carry me, 
turned over and commenced going down ; incumbered by clothes, 
sabre, and pistols, I made but poor progress in the turbid stream, 
but the recollection of home, of a bright-eyed maiden in the sunny 
south, the pressing need of soldiers, and an inherent love of life, ' 
actuated me to continue swimming. Behind me I heard the 
piercing call of young Rogers for help ; on my right. Captain 
Helm was appealing to me for aid ; and in the rear, my friend, 
Captain McClain was sinking. Gradually the gunboat was near- 
ing me. Should I be able to hold up until it came; and would I 
then be saved to again undergo the horrors of a Federal bastile? 
But I hear something behind me snorting!" I feel it passing! 
Thank God I am saved ! A riderless horse dashes by ; I grasp 
his tail ! onward he bears me, and the shore is reached. Colonel 
Johnson, on reaching the shore, seizes upon a ten-inch piece of 
board, jumps into a leaky skiff, and starts back to aid the drown- 
ing. He reaches Captain Helm, but Captain McOlain and young 


Rogers are gone! Yes, Captaia McClain, the true gentleman, 
fjiitliful soldier, and pleasant companion, has been buried in the 
depths of the Ohio. We sadly miss him at quarters and in the 
field. His genial smile and merry laughter will no longer ring 
ui)on the ear. But from his manly piety and goodness of heart, 
the angels of heaven will never mark him as an absentee. May 
the memory of his many virtues serve as a beacon-light to guide 
us all to the same heavenly abode where he is now stationed. 

Two men were drowned in the crossing. The gunboat and 
transports cutting us off again, General Morgan fell back again, 
and just as daylight was disappearing, the rear of his command 
was leaving the river. Sad and dispirited, we impressed guides, 
collected together 360 men who had crossed — many without arras, 
having lost them in the river — and marched out towards Claysville. 
But before leaving the river, I will briefly recapitulate and sum 
up in short order the -damage to the enemy in this raid, and the 
sufferings through which General Morgan's men passed. On first 
crossing the Cumberland, we detached two companies — one to 
operate on the Louisville and Nashville railroad, the other to op- 
erate between Crab Orchard and Somerset, Kentucky. The first 
captured two trains, and returned to Tennessee. The second cap- 
tured thirty-five wagons, and also returned. "We then detached 
100 men at Springfield, who marched to Frankfort and destroyed 
a train and the railroad near that point. We also captured a 
train, with a number of officers, on the Louisville and Nashville 
railroad, near Shepherd?ville — sent a detachment around Louis- 
ville, who captured a number of army supplies, and effected a 
crossing by capturing a steamer between Louisville and Cincin- 
nati, and rejoined us in Indiana. 

We paroled, up to the 10th, near 6,000 Federals, they obliga- 
ting themselves not to take up arms during the war. We de- 
stroyed thirty-four important bridges, destroying the track in 
sixty different places. Our loss was by no means light — 28 com- 
missioned oflicers killed, 35 wounded, and 250 men killed, wound- 
ed, and captured. By the Federal accounts, we killed more than 
200, wounded at least 350, and captured, as above stated, near 

The damage to railroads, steamboats, and bridges, added to the 
destruction of public stores and depots, cannot fall far short of 
$10,000,000. We captured three pieces of artillery, and one 24- 
pounder at Lebanon, which we destroyed ; one, a Parrott 3-inch 
gun, at Brandenburg, and a 12-pounder at Portland. These guns 


may have fallen into the enemy's hands again ; I do not know if 
it be so, but fear they have. 

After crossing into Indiana, the inhabitants fled in every direc- 
tion, women and children begging us to spare tbeir lives, and 
amazingly surprised to find we were humans. The Copperheads 
and Butternuts were always in the front opposing us. Occasion- 
ally we would meet with a pure Southron, generally persons ban- 
ished from the border States. In Indiana one recruit was ob- 
tained, a boy fourteen years old, who came as an orderly. Our 
command was bountifully fed, and I think the people of Indiana 
and Ohio are anxious for peace; and could the idea of their abil- 
ity to conquer us once be gotten rid of, they would clamor for an 
immediate recognition. Every town was illuminated, and the 
people everywhere rejoicing over the downfall of Vicksburg. 

Crops of wheat and oats are very good, but corn very poor, 

After leaving the Ohio at Belleville, on the night of the 19th, 
we marched to near Elizabethtown, in Wirt county, from there to 
Steer creek, and across the mountains to Sutton; from Sutton, 
on the Gauley Bridge road, to Birch creek, crossing Gauley at 
the mouth of Cranberry, and thence into tlie Greenbrier Country, 
crossing Cold mountain, passing a heavy blockaded road; tired 
steeds prevented rapid marches, and six days were consumed ere 
we reached Lewisburg, near which we left Colonel Grigsby, with 
a detachment, which then numbered about 475 men. From the 
crossing of the Ohio until our entrance into Greenbrier, our men 
lived on beef alone, without salt, and no bread. Yet their only 
wish seemed to be for the safety of General Morgan and the com- 

To the kind officers, soldiers, and citizens whom we have met 
upon our journey, since reaching the Old Dominion, in behalf of 
our command, we tender them our undying regard, and assure 
them, if unbounded success has not fallen to our lot this time, that 
we are more fully determined to strive for our country and cause 
than ever. 

I have the honor to remain your obedient servant, 

A. A. A. G. Morgan's Cavalry Division. 




General Morgan made his daring escape from the Ohio Peni- 
tentiary, generally considered one of the strongest prisons in the 
country, on the night of ISTovember 27th, 

The bedsteads of the prisoners were small iron stools, fcistened 
to the wall with hinges. They could be hooked up or allowed to 
stand on the floor; and to prevent any suspicion, for several days 
before any work was attempted, they made it a habit to let them 
down and sit at their doors and read. Captain Hines superintend- 
ed the work, while* General Morgan kept watch to divert the at- 
tention of the sentinel, whose duty it was to come round during 
the day and observe if any thing was going on. One day this fel- 
low came in while Hokersmith was down under the floor boring 
away, and missing him said, " Where is Hokersmith V The gen- 
eral replied, "-He is in my room, sick," and immediately pulled a 
document out of his pocket and said to him : " Here is a memorial 
I have drawn up to forward to the government at Washington; 
what do you think of it ?" 

The fellow, who perhaps could not read, being highly flattered 
at the general's condescension, took it and very gravely looked at 
it for several moments before he vouchsafed any reply. Then, 
handing it back, he expressed himself highly pleased with it. In 
the mean time, Hokersmith had been signalled and came up, pro- 
fessing to feel " very unwell." This sentinel was the most difficult 
and dangerous obstacle in their progress, "because there was no 
telling at what time he would enter during the day, and at night 
he came regularly every two hours to each cell, and inserted a 
light through the bars of their door, to see that they were quietly 
sleeping; and frequently after he had completed his rounds he 
would slip back in the dark with a pair of india-rubber shoes on, 
to listen at their cells if any thing was going on. The general says 
that he would almost invariably know of his presence by a certain 
magnetic shudder which it would produce ; but for fear that this 
acute sensibility might sometimes fail him, he broke up small parti- 
cles of coal every morning, and sprinkled them before the cell door, 
which would always announce his coming. 


Every thing was now ready to begin the work; so about the 
latter part of October they began to bore. All were busy — one 
making a rope-ladder by .tearing and twisting up strips of bedtick, 
another making bowie-knives, and another twisting up towels. 
They labored perseveringly for several days, and after boring 
through nine inches of cement and nine thicknesses of brick placed 
edgewise, they began to wonder when they should reach the soft 
earth. Suddenly a brick fell through. What could this mean ? 
What infernal chamber had they reached? It was immediately 
entered, and, to their astonishment and joy, it proved to be an air- 
chamber extending the whole length of the row of cells. Here 
was an unexpected interposition in their favor. Hitherto they 
had been obliged to conceal their rubbish in their bedticks, each 
day burning a proportionate quantity of straw ; now they had 
room enough for all they could dig. They at once commenced to 
tunnel at right angles with this air-chamber, to get through the 
foundation ; and day after day they bored, day after day the blocks 
of granite were removed, and still the work before them seemed 

After 23 days of unremitting labor, and getting through a gran- 
ite wall of six feet in thickness, they reached the soil. They tun- 
nelled up for some distance, and light began to shine. How glo- 
rious was that light! It announced the fulfilment of their labors, 
and if Providence would only continue its favor, they would soon 
be free. This was the morning of the 26th day of November,. 
1863. The next night, at--twelve o'clock, was determined on as 
the hour at which they would attempt their liberty. Each mo- 
ment that intervened was fihed with dreadful anxiety and suspense, 
and each time the guard entered increased their apprehensions. 
The general says he had prayed for rain, but the morning of the 
27th dawned bright and beautiful. The evening came, and clouds 
began to gather ! How they prayed for them to increase ! If rain 
should only begin, their chances of detection would be greatly 
lessened. While these thoughts were passing through their minds, 
the keeper entered with a letter for General Morgan. He opened 
it, and what was his surprise, and I may say wonder, to find it from 
a prior Irish woman of his acquaintance in Kentucky, commencing, 
''My dear ginral, I feel certain you are going to try to get out of 
prison, but for your sake don't you try it, my dear ginral. You 
will only be taken prisoner agin, and made to suffer more than 
you do now." 

Tiie letter then went on to speak of his kindness to the poor 


when he lived at Lexington, and concluded by again exhorting 
him to trust in God and wait his time. What could this mean? 
No human being on the outside had been informed of his intention 
to escape, and yet, just as all things were ready for him to make 
the attempt, here comes a letter from Winchester, Ky., advising 
}»im not to "try it." This letter had passed through the examin- 
ing office of General Mason, and then through the hands of the 
flower officials. What if it should excite their suspicion and cause 
them to exercise an increased vigilance? The situation, however, 
was desperate. Tiieir fate could not be much worse, and they 
resolved to go. Nothing now remained to be done but for the 
General and Colonel Dick Morgan to change cells. The hour ap- 
proached for them to be locked up. They changed coats, and each 
stood at the other's cell door with his back exposed, and pretend- 
ed to be engaged in making up their beds. As the turnkey enter- 
ed they "turned in" and pulled their doors shut. 

Six, eight, ten o'clock came. How each pulse throbbed as they 
quietly awaited the approach of twelve! It came — the sentinel 
passed his round — all well. After waiting a few moments to see 
if he intended to slip back, the signal was given— all quietly slipped 
down into the air-chamber, first stuffing their shirts and placing 
them in bed as they were accustomed to lie. As they moved 
quietly along through the dark recess to the terminus where they 
were to emerge from the earth, the general prepared to light a 
match. As the lurid glare fell upon their countenances a scene 
was presented which can never be forgotten. There were crouch- 
ed seven brave men who had resolved to be free. They were 
armed with bowie-knives made out of case-knives. Life, in their 
condition, was scarcely to be desired, and the moment for the des- 
perate chance had arrived. Suppose, as they emerged from the 
ground, the dog should give the alarm— they could but die. 

But a few moments were spent in this kind of apprehension. 
The hour arrived, and yet they came. Fortunately — providential- 
ly — the night had suddenly grown dark and rainy; the dogs had 
retired to their kennels, and the sentinels had taken refuge under 
shelter. The inner wall, by the aid of the rope-ladder, was soon 
scaled, and now the outer one had to be attempted. Cai)tain Tay- 
lor (who, by the way, is a nephew of old Zack,) being a very ac- 
tive man, by the assistance of his comrades reached the top of the 
gate, and was enabled to get the rope over the wall. When the 
top was gained they found a rope extending all around, which the 
general immediately cut, as he suspected it might lead into the 


warden's room. This turned out to be correct. They then enter- 
ed the sentry-box on the wall and changed their clothes, and let 
themselves down tlie wall. In sliding down, the general skinned 
his hand very badly, and all were more or less bruised. Once 
down, they separated, Taylor and Shelton going one way, Hoker- 
smith, Bennett, and McGee another, and General Morgan and Cap- 
tain Hines proceeded immediately towards the depot. 

The general had, by paying $15 in gold, succeeded in obtaining 
a paper which informed him of the schedule time of the different 
roads. The clock struck one, and he knew that by Imrrying he 
could reach the down-train for Cincinnati. He got there just as 
the train was moving off. He at once looked on to see if there 
were any soldiers on board, and espying a Union officer, he boldly 
walked up and took a seat beside him. He remarked to him that 
as the night was damp and chilly, perhaps he would join him in a 
drink. He did so, and the party soon became agreeable to each 
other. The cars, in crossing the Sciota, have to pass within a short 
distance of the Penitentiary. As they passed, the officer remark- 
ed, "There's the hotel at which Morgan and his oncers are spend- 
ing their leisure." " Yes," replied the general, "and I sincerely 
hope he will make up his mind to board there during the balance 
of the war, for he is a great nuisance." When the train reached 
Zenia, it was detained by some accident more than an hour. Im- 
agine his anxiety as soldier after soldier would pass through the 
train, for fear that when the sentinel passed his round at 2 o'clock 
their absence might be discovered. 

The train was due in Cincinnati at 6 o'clock. This was the hour 
in which they were turned out of their cells, and of course their 
escape would be then discovered. In a few moments after it would 
be known all over the country. The train, having been detained 
at Zenia, was running very rapidly to make up the time. It was 
already past six o'clock. . The general said to Captain Hines, "It 
is after six; if we go to the depot we are dead men. 'Now or 
never." They went to the rear and put on the brakes. "Jump, 
Hines!" Off he went, and fell heels over head in the mud. An- 
other severe turn of the brakes, and the general jumped. He was 
more successful, and lighted on his feet. There were some soldiers 
near, who remarked, "What in the h — 1 do you mean by jump- 
ing off the cars here?" The general replied, "What in the h — 1 
is the use of my going into town when I live here; and, besides, 
what business fs it of yours?" 

They went immediately to the river. They found a skiff, but 


no oars. Soon a little boy came over, and appeared to be wait- 
ing, " What are you waiting for ?" said the general. " I am wait- 
ing for my load." " What is the price of a load?" "Two dol- 
lars." "Well, as we are tired and hungry, we'll give you the two 
dollars, and you can put us over." So over he took them. 

"Where does ^[iss live?" "Just a short distance from 

here." "Will you show nie her house?" "Yes, sir." The house 
was reached, a fine breakfast was soon obtained, money and a 
horse furnished, a good woman's prayer bestowed, and off he went. 
From there, forward through Kentucky, everybody vied with each 
other as to who should show him the most attention — even to the 
negroes ; and young ladies of refinement begged the honor to cook 
his meals. 

Ue remained in Kentucky some days, feeling perfectly safe, and 
sending into Louisville for many little things he wanted. Went 
to Bardstowu, and found a Federal regiment had just arrived there 
looking for him. Remained here and about for three or four days, 
and then struck out for Dixie, sometimes disguising himself as a 
government cattle contractor, and buying a large lot of cattle, at 
other times a quartermaster, until he got to the Tennessee river. 
Here he found all means of transportation destroyed, and the bank 
strongly guarded, but with the assistance of about thirty others, 
who had recognized him and joined him in spite of his remon- 
strances, he succeeded in making a raft, and he and Captain Hines 
crossed over. His escort, with heroic self-sacrifice, refused to 
cross until he was safely over. He then hired a negro to get his 
horse over, paying him $20 for it. The river was so high that 
the horse came near drowning, and after more than one hour's 
struggling with the stream, was pulled out so e3;liausted as scarce- 
ly to be able to stand. 

The general threw a blanket on him and commenced to walk 
him, when suddenly, he says, he was seized with a presentiment 
that he would be attacked, and remarking to Captain Hines, "We 
will be attacked in twenty minutes," commenced saddling his 
horse. He had hardly tied his girth, when ''bang, bang," went 
the Minie balls. He bounced his horse, and the noble animal, ap- 
pearing to be inspired with new vigor, bounded off like a deer up 
the mountain. The last he saw of liis poor fellows on the oppo- 
site side, they were disappearing up the river-bank, fired upon by 
a whole regiment of Yankees. By this time it was dark, and also 
raining. He knew that a perfect cordon of pickets would surround 
the foot of the mountain, and if he remained there until morning, 


he would be lost. So he determined to run the gauntlet at once, 
and commenced to descend. As he neared the foot, leading his 
horse, he came almost in personal contact with a picket. Ilis first 
impulse was to kill him, but finding him asleep, he determined to 
let him sleep on. He made his way to the house of a Union man 
that he knew lived near there, and went up and passed himself oil 
as Captain Quartermaster of Hunt's regiment, who was on his way 
to Athens, Tenn., tcr procure supplies of sugar and coffee for the 
Union people of the country. The lady, who appeared to be 
asleep while tliis interview was taking place with her husband, 
at the mention of sugar and coffee, jumped out of bed in her night 
clothes, and said, "Thank God for that, for we ain't seen any rale 
coffee up here for God knows how long!" She was so delighted 
at the prospect, that she made up a fire and cooked them a supper. 
Supper being over, the general remarked that he understood some 
rebels had "tried to cross the river this afternoon." "Yes," said 
the woman, "but our men killed some un um, and driv the rest 
back." "Now," says the general, "I know that, but didn't some 
of them get over ?" " Yes," was her reply, " but they are on the 
mountain, and can't get down without being killed, as every road 
is stopped up." He then said to her: "It is very important for 
me to get to Athens by to-morrow night, or I may lose that sugar 
and coffee, and I am afraid to go down any of these roads, for fear 
my own men will kill me." 

The fear of losing that sugar and coffee brought her again to an 
accommodating mood, and she replied, " Why, Paul, can't you 
show the captain through our farm, that road down by the field ?" 
The general says, " Of course, Paul, you can do it, and as the niglit 
is very cold, 1 will give you $10 (in gold) to help you along." 
The gold, and the prospect of sugar and coffee, were too much 
for any poor man's nerves, and he yielded, and getting on a horse, 
he took them seven miles to the big road. 

From this time forward he had a series of adventures and escapes, 
all very wonderful, until he got near another river in Tennessee, 
when he resolved to go up to a house and find the way. Hines went 
to the h(mse, while the general stood in the road. Hearing a body 
of cavalry come dashing up behind him, he quietly slipped to one 
side of the road and it passed by without observing him. They 
went travelling after Hines, and, poor fellow, he has not been 
heard of since. How sad to think he should be either captured 
or killed, after so many brave efforts, not only in his own behalf, 
but also in that of the general, for the general says that it is ow- 


ing chiefly to Hines's enterprise aud skill that they made their es- 

When he arrived at the river referred to above, lie tried to get 
over, intending to stop that night with a good Southern man 
on the other side. He could not get over, and had to stop at the 
house of a Union man. The next morning he went to the house 
that he had sought the night previous, and found the track of the 
Yankees scarcely cold. They had been there all night, expecting 
that he would come there, and had murdered everybody who 
had attempted to reach the house without hailing them. In pur- 
suing this brutal course, they had killed three young men, neigh- 
bors of this gentleman, and went away, leaving their dead bodies 
on the ground. 

After he had crossed Okey's river, and got down into middle 
Tennessee, he found it almost impossible to avoid recognition. At 
one time he passed some poor women, and one of them commenced 
clapping her hands, and said, "Oh, I know who that is!" but 
catching herself, she stopped short, and passed on with her com- 

The general says that his escape was made entirely without the 
assistance from any one on the outside, and, so far as he knows, 
also without their knowledge of his intention ; that the announce- 
ment of his arrival at Toronto was one of those fortuitous coinci- 
dences that cannot be accounted for ; that it assisted him mate- 
rially, no doubt. In fact, he says that his " wife's prayers" saved 
him, and, as this is the most agreeable way of explaining it, he is 
determined to believe it. 

The above account may be relied on as correct; and, although 
much has been left out, yet enough is printed to stamp it as one 
of the most remarkable escapes in history. 



S. C. Reid, the correspondent of the Atlanta Intelligencer^ had 
an interview with Captain Henry T. Hines, art Daltou, Ga., on the 
4th inst., and obtained the particulars of his capture, escape from 
the Ohio Penitentiary, and return to Dixie. As the public are 
familiar with the circumstances of the capture, &c., we confine 
our extracts to the thrilling incidents of thereturn to the Confed- 
eracy in company with General Morgan, which will amply repay 

It had been previously determined that, on reaching the outer 
walls, the parties should separate, Morgan and Hines together, and 
the others to shape their course for themselves. Thus they parted. 
Hines and the general proceeded at once to the depot to purchase 
their tickets for Cincinnati. But, lo! where was the money ? The 
inventive Hines had only to touch the magical wand of his inge- 
nuity, to be supplied. "While in prison he had taken the precau- 
tion, after planning his escape, to write to a lady friend in a 
peculiar cipher, which, when handed fo the authorities to read 
through openly, contained nothing contraband, but which, on the 
young lady receiving, she, according to instructions, sent him 
some books, in the back of one of which she concealed some 
" greenbacks," and across the inside wrote her name, to indicate 
the place where the money was deposited ! The books came safe 
to hand, and Hines was flush I Going boldly up to the ticket- 
office, while Morgan modestly stood back and adjusted a pair of 
green goggles over his eyes, which one of the men having weak 
eyes had worn in the prison. 

They took their seats in the cars without suspicion. How their 
hearts beat until the locomotive whistled to start! Slowly the 
wheels turn, and they are oif ! The cars were due in Cincinnati 
at 7 A. M. At Dalton, Ohio, they were detained one hour. What 
keen anguish of suspense did they not suffer ! They knew that 
at 5 o'clock A. M. the convicts would be called, and that the escape 
would then be discovered, ^vhen it would be telegraphed in every 
direction ; consequently the guards would be ready to greet them 
on their arrival. They were rapidly neariug the city of Abolition 
hogdom. It was a cool, rainy morning. Just as the train entered 


the suburbs, about a half a mile from the depot, the two escaped 
prisoners went out on the platform and put on the brakes, check- 
ing the cars sutficieutly to let them jump oflf. liines jumped off 
first, and fell, considerably stunned. Morgan followed unhurt. 
They immediately niade towards the river, striking it at Ludlow's 
Ferry. Here they found a boy with a skift', who had just ferried 
across some ladies from Coviugtou. They dared not turn their 
heads, for fear of seeiyg the guards coming. " Hines," whispered 
the general, "look and see if anybody is coming!" The boy was 
told that they wanted to cross, but he desired to wait for more 
passengers. The general told him that he was in a hurry, and 
promised to pay double fare. The skiff shot out into the stream, 
they soon reached the Kentucky shore, and breathed free ! 

The boy had told them the place of residence of a lady friend ; 
thither they bent their steps, and were received with the wildest 
demonstrations of joy and hospitality. They were afraid to tarry 
long. Horses were immediately procured for them, and that day, 
the 28th November, they rode to the town of Union, in Boone 
county, twenty-eight miles from Covington. There they stayed all 
night and the next day, leaving on the niglit of the 29th, with volun- 
teer guides, and travelling by neighborhood and by-roads, passing 
through Gallatin county to Owen county line, where they stopped 
with a friend and spent the*day of the 30th. They resumed their 
travels at night, passing through !N'ew Liberty, crossed the Ken- 
tucky river, and at 2 a. m., on the 1st December, stopped twelve 
miles the other side of Newcastle. Pushing on that day, they 
arrived at night eight miles this side of Shelbyville, where they 
spent the day of the 2d with their friends, meeting with a glorious 
reception. At night they departed again, passing through Taylors- 
ville, and reached the vicinity of Bardstown on the morning of the 
8d. Here they remained over until the night of the 5th, having 
received a most cordial greeting and unbounded hospitality. Again 
advancing, they passed through glorious old Nelson county, stop- 
ping on Rolling Fork. On the 5th, they laid over, and at night 
reached the vicinity of Greensburg, passing between the pickets 
of the enemy and their base. The fugitives had been joined by 
four others, and the party now consisted of six. They remained 
concealed inside of the enemy's pickets during the day of the 6th. 
Their trip through Kentucky had been one grand ovation, the 
ladies going wild with joy, and the men offering them every thing 
in their power, showing that the true spirit still breathes in that 
down-trodden State. 


On the night of* the 6th they procured guides to proceed to tho 
Cumberland river, the road being thickly lined with Yankees. 
At ten A. M., on the 7th, they reached the Cumberland, nine miles 
below Burksville, having travelled sixty miles that night, and 
crossed the river in a canoe, swimming their horses and passing 
for Federal cavalry. That night they stayed at the house of a 
good Union friend, who, supposing them to belong to Jacobs' cav- 
alry, took the best care of them. On the 8th, they passed into 
Overton county, Tennessee, following in the rear of a large Yankee 
scouting party, who, they learned, were in hot chase after Morgan ! 
The general here learning that a number of escaped prisoners of 
his command were in the vicinity, a portion being under Captain 
Ray, he determined to wait until they cwuld be collected, and then 
take them out, for which purpose he laid over until the 12th of 

The squad was now increased to forty men, under command of 
Captain Hines, and crossing a spur of the Cumberland by way of 
Crossville, between Sparta and Knoxville, they arrived at Bridge's 
feny, on the Tennessee river, at ten o'clock on the morning of 
the 13th. There being no boat or skiff to cross, the party was 
compelled to fell trees to make a raft. This ferry was within two 
miles and a half of a Yankee cavalry camp. By two p. m. they 
had succeeded in crossing twenty-five men and six horses. At 
this time a cavalry force of the enemy appeared on the north side 
of the river, and fired upon the party who had been engaged in 
making the raft. The enemy succeeded in capturing three or four 
men, but the others made their escape back into Tennessee. At 
the same moment the enemy also appeared on the south side of the 
river, when General Morgan, Hines, and four others mounted their 
horses to escape. After riding two miles and a half from the river, 
Hines rode up to a house for the purpose of procuring a guide, 
leaving Morgan and the other men in the road. Hines had ob- 
tained the guide, when he heard Morgan halloo to him, and soon 
after a party of cavalry dashed up towards Hines, which at first 
he took for a party of our men, until thej approached .so close 
that escape was impossible. Hines had on a Yankee gun-cloth 
which covered his clothes, and seeing that they took him for an 
" Abolish," he feigned to be- a Yankee. The Abolish captain 
riding up, asked, " Who are you ?" " One of you," replied Hines. 
"Where are the rebels?'' asked the captain. "They have just 
gone down this road ; come on, and we will catch them," said 
Hines, riding off in the opposite direction from that taken by 


Morgan, who, at the time, was near tlie foot of the liill, and was 
thus enabled to escape. The party followed Hines, but soon after 
discovered him to he a true rebel, and taking away his arms they 
threatened to hang liim for misleading them. 

Hines was carried across the river to their camps, and put under 
guard. He passed off for a private under the name of Bullitt, 
That night he ate up several letters and private papers, besides 
the notes of his tr^, which would have condemned him, thus 
making a paper supper, which probably saved his neck. On the 
evening of the 14th the captain retunied from the scout, and re- 
ported that the rebels had escaped. He had learned from a citizen 
that Morgan was one of the party, and suspected Hines of being 
an escaped prisoner. He charged him with being a Confederate 
officer, and questioned him very closely. In order to gain Hines's 
confidence, and to pump him, he treated him very kindly, and 
asked him to go to a Union man's house to take supper. 

On leaving the house, about nine P.M., which was half a mile from 
the camp, after getting off about ten steps, the " Yank" remem- 
bered he had left his shawl, and went back. The night was dark, 
and nines struggled with himself to gain his consent to escape, 
but considering the confidence and kindness of the officer, he con- 
eluded to wait until he got out of his hands. Hines remained in 
camp under guard during the night of the 14th, and the next morn- 
ing was sent to Kingston, with an escort of ten men, where he was 
placed in jail, and kept for five days without fire, and almost with- 
out food. Here he found three of his comrades who had been cap- 
tured on the other side of the river. On the 20th, he and his three 
companions, William and Robert Church, and Smith, of the third 
Kentucky Cavalry, were sent to the camp of the Third Yankee 
Kentucky Infantry, opposite Loudon, on the Tennessee river, nine- 
teen miles from Kingston. The prisoners were confined in a small 
house in the centre of the camp, the timber being cut down in every 
direction for half a mile, and there being but one path leading to 
the mountain from the camp, which was closely guarded. That 
night it was bright moonlight, but; the moon went down just before 

Hines and his companions, by agreement, under pretence of 
being very cold, dressed themselves at the time, and sat down 
with the guards round the fire. At a given signal his comrades 
rose and stood round the fire, while Hines, keeping one of the 
guards busily engaged talking, quietly approached the door unob- 
b'.ryed, raising the latch, giving the wink at the same time to his 



friends. Then turning suddenly, he threw the door wide open, 
and said, with composure, " Gentlemen, we have remained here 
long enough ; it is time we were going." . The guards were struck 
dumb with surprise, and thought it a joke. But before thev could 
recover their senses, Hines flew past the guards in front of the 
house, and ran like a deer for the woods. He heard a struggle for 
a moment near the house, and then a volley of Minie balls whizzed 
by him. Ilis three comrades must have beeu caught. The enemy 
pursued him to the wood and up the mountain for three-quarters 
of a mile, when they lost his -track. Hines travelled six miles 
across the mountains that morning, and lay concealed during the 
day. At night he approached a house in a valley, and finding the 
occupant a Unionist, he passed himself oflE" as a Yankee govern-, 
ment agent. In conversing about the rebels, the Unionist said 
there were a few still lurking about, but as the river was well 
guarded, there were but few places they could cross at, and men- 
tioned one place five miles below Loudon, where he said a rebel lived 
who kept a canoe. Hines made an excuse to go out that night, 
and proceeded to the ferry indicated, where he found the canoe 
and crossed the river. He soon found many friends on the south 
side of the river to aid him, and travelling altogether by night till 
out of danger, he finally arrived at Dalton, Ga., on the evening 
of the 29th December, having walked the whole distance from 




In .vo„r paper of tho 13tl, of February, this notice appears- 

Bn,.a,l,er^general ShackelforO, who capture,! Morgan, hasTel 

er^l S tTr ,"? ""' '"^ ''"' "''« "- been led toili'ovo Geo- 

: if rtffrc xr - 'i' " "" ^'-^f • ''"^' ^^ ">« "-- ^- 

due "an,! tl r ?°'""' ""•''y ••* eiven, where honor is 

due and that your readers may become acquainted wit), the 

fh whet'— ■■ "r"'™-'' ' «'™ ''""^ '' P'^'° ^''"--' "f 
can vouch. ''"' '" ""^ ''"""'^''s^' ""-l ^"^ «Wch I 

. Jl""!? 5°''^'"' ""'""^ ""^ Cumberland river. Brigadier-gen- 
eral Judah, commanding the Second division of Tvfen yXd 

tZi:r\'''''T' ?^-^i-g-eral E. H. Hobson, con „,a d 

GWowt ?'f' "'i''"""^ -^'"^'o"' '° ™»-^ fro-" CoIumbL to 
Glasgow, Kentucky. When he arrived within five miles of Glas 
gow, he received orders from General Judah to m"ve wfth ht 
Second brigade to Tompkinsville-that he Judah h,dTft 7 

MoCat c:«ha:: ?»" ^^"^ T^' ^"^ -pt'teSlo'ltk 
morgan at Carthage, Tennessee. General Hobson arrived with 
h,s command at Ray's Cross Roads, eigl,teen miles from G Jow 

^th sf. h' '"/""r^ "' ,"''' P'^''^' ^' P™^^^J^<1 to TompkinstmT 
Juth n "' '^'''■^■' '"'' '"=»"P'«'i «'« Pl»««. until G n al 
When GenlrT",^K""° "™^ ''"'^ J"'" ^imat iompkin v 1 f 
tW M. "'. '"■"™'^' •^*°*™' Ifobson reported to him 

Burkfv f " H:Lr""" "P«^ Cumberland, and Lm cross a" 
Jiurksville. Hobson ^mMed on General Judah giving him orders 

* From the Army and Navy Journal. 

412 APPENmx. 

ascertained that Morgan was crossing his force at Burksville and 
Cloyd's Ferry, nine miles below Burksville. Hobson informed 
Judali of his movements, and of the movements of Morgan, and 
stated that he had ordered General Shackelford's brigade from 
Kay's Cross Roads to assist him. 

Shackelford arrived at Marrow-Bone at 12 p. m. July 2d. 
Hobson did not put him on duty, but told him to rest and feed 
his men, and be ready to move at an early hour next morning; 
that he would attack Morgan's command next morning at Cloyd's 
Ferry, and prevent him from uniting his two brigades ; this he 
would do in violation of General Judah's orders, as it was tho 
only way to prevent Morgan from entering and devastating the 
State. Hobson dispatched General Judah, who was then sup- 
posed to be at Ray's Cross Roads, fourteen miles in the rear, his 
plans, and the disposition he intended to make of his forces, and 
stated it was in violation of orders " heretofore received." Gen- 
eral Judah met the courier six miles from Marrow-Bone, and sent 
an aide at full speed, with verbal orders to General Hobson, to 
suspend all military operatio7is, and to countermand all orders 
for the moving of troops. General Hobson reluctantly obeyed, 
and stated to General Judah that Morgan would unite his forces, 
and get considerably the start, if he (Judah) did not order the 
troops to move and attack Morgan. -After delaying one brigade 
twelve, and another twenty-four hours, General Judah adopted 
Hobson's second plan ; to cross the country, sending one brigade 
through Columbia, and one through Greensburgli, to unite at 
Campbellsville. Judah returned to Glasgow. Hobson and 
Shackelford united at Campbellsville, and proceeded to Lebanon, 
Kentucky, leaving Judah south of Green river, he having failed to 
cross his cavalry before the river became too high. General 
Burnside telegraphed to General Hobson to assume command of 
all the cavalry at Lebanon, consisting of his own, Shackelford's, 
Woolford's, and Xants' commands, and to pursue and capture 
Morgan ; and to impress horses, subsistence, &c., for his com- 
mand. Upon receiving this order Hobson continued the pursuit, 
and directed all the movements of the troops under him. 

Morgan having stripped the country, through which he passed, 
of horses, &c., Hobson labored under many disadvantages, but 
pushed ahead, determined to attack Morgan with fifteen me'n — if 
DO more than that number could keep up with him. At Bnffirfg- 
ton Island, on the 19th of July, Hobson attacked, routed, scat- 
tered, and whipped Morgan ; having followed him for twenty-one 


days and nights. Hobson leading in the front when the attack 
was made, was convinced that Morgan could not cross the river, 
and would attempt to get to the rear, and take the back track! 
To prevent this, Hobson sent orders to General Shackelford and 
Colonel WooUbrd to occupy positions four miles from the river, 
and attack Morgan's force, part of which was moving to that 
I»oint. Also to pursue in every direction, and lose no time in 
capturing Morgan's scattered and routed forces. These orders 
were promptly obeyed, and resulted at this point in the capture 
of four hundred and seventy-five men. Colonels Kants, Sanders, 
and Lieutenant-colonel Adams had similar orders to follow up 
Morgan's scattered force, and drive them in the direction of 
Shackelford and Woolford, all of whom, in obeying these orders, 
captured quite a number of prisoners. 

It is evident that General Hobson was in command of the expe- 
dition from the time he left Lebanon, until its close, as he had 
been placed in command by Major-general Burnside, and received 
DO countermanding orders; although it is true he did receive 
instructions or information from time to time from Generals 
Burnside and Boyle. 

Major Ptue, of the Ninth Kentucky cavalry, is the officer who 
captured Morgan in person ; Sergeant Drake, of the Eighth Mich- 
igan cavalry, and a sergeant of the Ninth Michigan cavalry, cap- 
tured Colonel Basil Duke, Colonel Howard Smith, and one hun- 
dred and sixty line-officers and privates. 

General Hobson could not, of course, lead in every direction 
after he had broken up and routed Morgan at Buffington Island. 
It was his duty to see to his wounded ; give orders to the il^r- 
suing parties, and see that the prisoners were properly secured 
and cared for, as well as other details, that none but a command- 
ing general are likely to be familiar with, or think of. 

There are many other interesting incidents concerning the 
action of Generals Hobson, Shackelford, Manson, and Judah, Col- 
onels Woolford, Kants, and others; but it is not my purpose to 
go into a detailed history, further than to give — what I have en- 
deavored to give above— a plain and truthful statement of facts 
connected with the pursuit and capture of the rebel General John 
H. Morgan. 



The war-cloud hung lurid and dark, 

And terror each soul did assail, 
When anon with fury it burst, 

Sending forth a heartrending wail. 
Mothers to their offspring did cling, 

Fair maidens did beat on their breasts, 
For the hordes and freebooting bands 

Of Lincoln did ravage the West. 

Hearts in supplication arose, 

That God some deliverance might bring, 
When lo ! a brave leader appears. 

Whose advent in chorus now sing; 
For no common leader is he ; 

High towering amongst all the rest, 
1^0 brand with such terror does flash, 

As Morgan's, the hope of the West. 

His advent the Yankees did scorn, 

And dubbed him with every vile name, 
Guerilla, land-pirate, outlaw, 

Whom naught but a halter could tame. 
But dearer this leader became 

To every Confederate breast. 
And never did star brighter shine 

Than Morgan, the hope of the West. 

To Abe, this brave chieftain appeared 

A fiend of ubiquitous dread ; 
A whole mint he'd most freely give, 

The price of this hobgoblin's head. 
For oft while his minions feel safe, 

Far, far from this foe to their rest, 
Destruction would leap like a flash, — 

'Tis Morgan, the hope of the West. 


Whilst fear, consternation, and dread, 

The freebooting hordes sore oppressed, 
Bright Hope, with soft pinions, did fan 

The hearts of fair maidens distressed. 
A sliout, now spontaneous arose 

From every fond Southern breast, 
No champion of Freedom's so bold. 

As Morgan, the hope of the West. 


It's of chivalrous Morgan I propose to sing. 

And of the brave heroes that round him do cling, 

Whose valor has thrilled the heart of the nation. 

Whose prowess astounds this lower creation; 

But 'mongst his brave deeds, that most worthy of praise 

Was his dash in Kentuck during holidays. 

The enemy held this entire neutral soil, 

And each true Soaithron was the victim of spoil. 

The heart of brave Morgan beat high in his breast. 

As the plume of the tyrant waved in his crest. 

He vowed that his State should be happy and free. 

And his watchword was death to all tyranny. 

Many brave hearts had flocked to this hero bold. 

From that doomed State that to the despot Avas sold, 

Many others, likewise from States further south. 

Whose hands they had torn from the gorilla's mouth. 

With this heroic band of brave volunteers, 

Whose free hearts were strangers to unmanly fears, 

He set out for Kentuck with high beating heart. 

Determined to baflie the enemy's art; 

With speed far surpassing the old warrior's code. 

By day and by night we vigorously rode. 

No halting our horses, so weary, to unsaddle, 

That our foeman might have no time to skedaddle. 

We eagerly attacked each bristling stockade — 

For railroad defence these strongholds were made, — 


But they all surrendered, even seven or more, 
And prisoners very numerous, — yea, many a score. 
Thus, by boldly baffling the enemy's wiles. 
Their railroad we destroyed for forty long miles; 
. Far had we entered the terror-stricken State, 
Where tyranny guards every iron-barred gate; 
But the object achieved of this bold foray, 
To the South we'd return without delay. 
The enemy's rage now with fury did burn. 
That to the South they swore we should never return ; 
So they fiercely beset us on every hand, 
In hopes of destroying our heroic band, 
Each highway they guarded with a numerous host, 
Each far more numerous than Morgan could boast. 
Destruction seemed certain, and conquest most sure. 
As we appeared now entrapped by the enemy's lure; 
3 *t Morgan was there, whose wits never fail him, 
Who's always at home when dangers assail him: 
By by-ways he led us that cold, dreary night, 
And this snarl we escaped by next morning's light; 
Each day and each night it was common to hear, 
"The foe are pursuing — are fighting our rear;" 
The fire we returned, yet right onward we sped, -^ 
Though risks we did run, every danger we fled. 
Thus dangers we escaped and conquest we made, 
In this brilliant Kentuck, this holiday raid. 
Some mishaps we met with, some few men we lost, 
But each gallant life cost the foeman a host; 
A sad mischance occurred to the heroic Duke, 
Who's as bold as a lion, but mild as St. Luke : 
Tliis brave hero, who is scarce less than Morgan, 
Was severely wounded on the cranial organ. 
While repelling an attack made on his rear, 
He fell by a sliell that exploded too near; 
But long may he live, a terror to the foe, 
For he will perform all that valor cau do. 
One incident more I will here barely note, 
Like that the old Muses so fondly did quote. 
Of brave Captain Treble and another as bold, 
Whose deeds are equal to the heroes of old. 
They met in combat, three champions to two, 
Whom fiercely they fought, and a colonel they slew; 


The others surrendered, but ahnost too late, 
For the weapon was poised to seal the sad fate 
Of one, the most daring of that vanquished band, 
As prostrate he lay under bold Treble's hand. 
Colonel Halsey fell by brave Eastin's fire; 
The doom of the rest was less fatally dire: 
Was that of prisoners who surrender in war 
To a foe more generous than tyrants by far. 
But now, having returned to true Southern soil. 
We are calmly reposing after our toil ; 
But Morgan, our leader, is still scenting his game. 
And soon he will have us pursuing the same. 
Long, long may he live, this true son of Mars, 
And triumphantly wave the Stars and the Bars, 
And each Southern sister in glory arrayed, 
Recline most gracefully beneath itjs wide shade.