FIELD AND PRISON LIFE

CAMP, FIELD AND PRISON LIFE.

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CHAPTER I.

JOHNSON’S ISLAND, NEAR SANDUSKY, OHIO,}
July 10, 1863.}

From the 1st of October last I have kept a minute diary of our camps, travels and the incidents connected therewith, from time to time writing them down in a somewhat connected narrative, in a journal I had prepared for that purpose. In October, 1862, we—that is, Vaughn’s Tennessee Brigade—were camped near the western border of Virginia; in April following we were in the vicinity of Vicksburg, Miss., having traveled diagonally through Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, tarrying a while at Knoxville, Montgomery, Mobile, Jackson and Grenada.

No one except a soldier knows how many incidents crowd into a 1,200 mile military trip through the South. Often, while at Vicksburg, I derived great pleasure from going back and reading over the occurrences that took place before we left Tennessee, and I could imagine how much greater the pleasure would be in the great future, when all this strife is only in song and story, to rehearse the scenes and deeds of a wonderful era. I had my journal written up to within the month of April, and the tale consumed some fifty pages, descriptive of matters and things in general along our route, and about the cities in which we stopped.

"Martial circumstances" and increased activity in "war business" caused me to cease my scribbling, and leave my all, except war implements and a single blanket, to go and try the stern realities of the field, where I was soon to see the foe. As was too often the case, ne’er more did we return to that camp. Many sacrificed their heart’s blood at the altar of liberty, and a host of others are, with myself, serving out a martyrdom, for their country’s sake, in a Northern prison.

My journal, account books, clothing, many highly prized letters and tokens from friends, all are, perhaps, now smouldering in the ruins and waste about Vicksburg. That was the third time I had lost all my clothing, and the second my journal, precious at least to me, by the vicissitudes of war. And, though what I am now penning may meet the same fate ere the year is past and gone, still, to fill up vacant hours and to renew the scenes through which we have so lately passed, and for the curiosity of hereafter looking back on prison life as it passed, I will persevere.

I will go back to a thrilling occurrence near to the time at which my other journal ceased. About the middle of March our regiment changed the locality of its camp, very much improving our situation and comforts. Our camp was in an elliptical shaped hollow, containing some six acres, and surrounded on all sides, except one, by hills, towering above the stately poplars in the midst of our camp. The crest of one of the lofty hills that engirdled our secluded home was lined with brazen batteries and strong intrenchments, our camp being just outside of the outer line of defense of Vicksburg. We had very respectable shanties for both officers and men, and a good spring within the limits of our camp.

Everything was passing off in the usual manner of camp life, till the night of March 28th, when we were shocked by a sudden and terrible calamity. The day had been calm and serene, and there was nothing in the heavens or on the earth portending to human vision the coming sad spectacle. About ten o’clock at night the wind commenced blowing a steady gale, and black clouds loomed up. For an hour it seemed that we were only going to have a thunder gust, but the storm increased and the winds howled among the thick foliage of the tall trees. Not one in our camp dreamed of danger, till the limbs commenced crashing, and the huge poplars were being torn up by their roots in the very center of our camp.

All was flurry and consternation. Men rushed wildly from their cabins in their night clothes, seeking eagerly a place of safety. In many cases the cabins were crushed into atoms before the men had fairly escaped. A tent occupied by my brother and five others was torn into shreds in a moment after their exit. Six men were killed outright in one tent, and ten others injured in various parts of the regiment. ‘Twas the most pitiable sight man ever beheld, to see six stalwart men lying side by side, mangled and bruised, in death. We buried them side by side on a neighboring hill. Never did a conflagration or tornado leave a more desolate and gloomy scene than was presented by our once beautiful camp. It required several days to clear up our camping ground so as to make it even passable.

About the 1st of February orders were issued from headquarters for officers to be sent home on recruiting service. I sent R. A. Anderson, my orderly sergeant, as being most suitable, because of energy and perseverance. On the 29th of March he returned with twelve men and no less than thirty boxes of provisions, and some clothing and a host of letters for the boys. Never was there more joy over the return of a stray child than then.

The provisions were prized more highly than gold, for our rations had for some time been slim, both in quality and quantity, and, besides, they were from the loved ones at home. That night at roll call the boys raised a lively yell, which they had not done before for weeks. The letters were anxiously perused and treasured away in the hearts and knapsacks of the fortunate recipients. Though I held no claims on any one for favors, I too was not forgotten. Mrs. Gray sent me a nice box of eatables, old Mrs. Winniford and Mrs. Bouldin each a ham, and I got no less than fourteen letters on every imaginable subject. The reasonable ones I answered and complied with their wishes, the rest I consigned to the flames. It may be well to say here that I was a Kentuckian, serving with Tennessee troops. Before the war I had never known a member of my company or regiment, nor a citizen of the region from which they came—East Tennessee.

Before taking up the incidents of April, I will go back and say a word of the country, climate, seasons and people. Those who live far away from Mississippi, and only know of it from history and the appearance and stories of those who live there, will find themselves deceived when they visit that boasted land. True, there is much good soil, much wealth, intelligence and patriotism amongst her people, but there are many qualities wanting to make it suit the tastes of those who live further North.

The great difference in temperature in the day and at night, the days being quite sultry and the nights most always chilly, is anything but pleasant or healthy to one used to a more uniform clime. The changes of temperature are very sudden, one day being melting hot, the next wintry and disagreeable. The seasons are very much more forward there than at my Kentucky home. About the middle of February the first signs of spring begin to appear, and by the middle of March the whole forest is in a full garb of green, and the ladies have nearly all their garden stuff planted. Roses and peach trees bloom in February, and by the 1st of March many of the farmers have finished planting their corn. Strange to say, but few of them have yet learned how to rightly cultivate corn; they prepare the ground badly, and put in too much for their force, which is not the secret of success.

For a month succeeding the middle of February I was in the country, recovering from a threatened attack of fever. I visited various planters, and had an opportunity of getting into the minutiæ of their social, agricultural and commercial relations. I saw a great many things that grated upon my ideas of right and wrong. I boarded with Capt. Wall, who was generous-hearted and did all he could for my comfort; but the old lady was too particular, penurious and curious. Their daughter, a young grass widow, was kind and obliging, but, like her mamma, the almighty dollar clung too close to her affections. They were well off, and had a good library, to which and the parlor I had free access, so I passed the time off very agreeably.

While there I formed the acquaintance of several quite pleasant ladies, and, as they belonged rather to the aristocracy, I took especial pleasure in letting them know, in a manner not calculated to give offense, my opinions of that class of humanity. They generally agreed with me, but sometimes we gave each other sharp cuts. I have met with some as kind and worthy people in Mississippi as anywhere in my travels. One can not now get a fair representation of what the State is, for most all the truly gallant and patriotic men are long since in the service of their country. As a general thing, only speculators and those without conscience or self-respect remain at home. They respect the soldier and will aid him only so long as his money lasts.

Come, April showers, April flowers, and April with thy verdant garb, and let us, ere smiling May is upon us, record the mighty events that were wrapped up in thy bosom. A seeming cessation of activity, and apparent stillness between two armies confronting each other, is often indicative of strategical moves, and such was the case before Vicksburg during the first days of April. The enemy’s fleet had measurably moved out of sight; no gunboats attempted the passage of our batteries, and their motions fairly indicated that they were about to strike anchor and be off for Memphis.

During the 10th and 11th of April the enemy were making moves which we could not exactly comprehend, and evidently not intended for our good. Many of their transports steamed up the river. Some few, accompanied by iron clads, were reconnoitering in the Yazoo river, and some troops were moving back into Louisiana. Our Generals had a sharp eye on it all, and orders were issued that we must be ready to go at a moment’s warning. At two o’clock on the night of the 14th we were aroused from slumber and ordered to cook four days’ rations immediately. At daylight everything was ready, and our little tricks packed up to go whithersoever ordered. All day long did we, in suspense, await orders to move. Next morning there came an order to keep two days’ cooked rations on hand, and await further orders.

The Federal move was soon explained, for on the night of the 16th, just at twelve o’clock, the booming of the signal gun on the river told us the gunboats were coming. In ten minutes our regiment was in line, and we posted away to the scene, for it was predicted that the enemy might attempt to land troops under the cover of their gunboats. By the time we reached the theater of action, one mile off, the incessant peals of from forty to fifty heavy siege guns at our water batteries shook the earth, and made the air reverberate for miles around. Eleven boats started to run the gauntlet; two were sunk in front of the city, many of their crews going under, and one was disabled but floated beyond the range of our batteries. They hurled broadsides of shot and shell into the city as they passed, doing no damage except killing six mules. That was the most successful of the several attempts General Grant made to pass our fortress.

Some time in March, a soldier belonging to the 61st Tennessee regiment, who attempted to desert and go to the enemy, was caught, and sentenced by a general court-martial to be shot April 17th, in the presence of our brigade. On that day, at ten o’clock, we were ordered to repair to the place of execution, but on the way were met by a courier, saying the day of execution was postponed, by order of General Pemberton. The 6th of March we had witnessed the execution of two men for mutiny. They met their fate like martyrs, and said it was just.

I believe it was the 20th of April that one of my sergeants, who had been to the country to get some clothes washed, brought me a beautiful bouquet, which he said was handed him by an unknown lady. It was culled with taste and exquisitely arranged, but I dreamed not of the source till I drew a slip of gilt-edged paper from the mass, and found, "Compliments of Miss C. to Captain W." I had seen her but once; ‘twas a freak of woman’s nature.

Just before daylight of the 23d, six more of the Federal fleet, five transports and one iron-clad, attempted to pass the "Rubicon." The transports were partially protected by cotton and hay bales, but the searching and galling fire of our batteries sunk one, the "Henry Clay," and the rest were so riddled that they had to lay up several days at a landing below the city. The gunboat is, perhaps, yet quietly reposing in the bed of the Mississippi in front of Vicksburg. There were no longer reasons for doubt as to the intentions of the enemy. From the heights around Vicksburg we could see wagon trains moving down the river on the Louisiana side, and the camps of the foe, so long in our view, were disappearing. The transports were being run down to get them over the river below Vicksburg.

I was, on the 24th April, appointed by General Vaughn on a board of survey to examine army clothing, to be issued to the troops. Most of the pants were of goods manufactured at Lexington, Ky., and brought out by General E. Kirby Smith in the fall of 1862. The last day of April General Vaughn had an order issued that neither soldier nor officer should leave camp without written authority from his headquarters. That same evening one of my friends had been a short distance in the country to see his sweetheart, and she told him that Lieut. Billy R. and Jim B. would be there that night to play the violin, and requested that he and I should be present. We studied and calculated between the good to be done by obeying the order and the pleasure to be derived from going. The fiddle out-balanced, so, as the shades of night ‘came o’er us, we took a stroll in the opposite direction, but landed at Mr. C.’ s. Presently the boys came, but no fiddle. We fixed up and sent for a violin, pretending that it was to play in another part of the camp. In the meantime, Miss Mollie and Miss Henrietta happened in. We at first hinted and at last plainly asserted to the old folks that music was of no account without dancing, and after a little coaxing all round, they succumbed. The silvery rays of the full moon, which was then just in the zenith, made the night beautiful. We danced beneath an arbor in front of the house, and were having a most splendiferous time, till the exit of April and the incoming of May reminded us that it was time to be away. We crept stealthily into camp, and were up next morning at break of day, no one suspecting that we had been absent, nor did the secret ever leak far out. So you see a soldier may sometimes, if he will, have as fine times as anybody. But I have got ahead of the hounds. At broken intervals all through the day of the 28th heavy firing could be heard in the direction of Grand Gulf, thirty miles down the river. That night three gunboats attempted the passage of our frowning batteries, and one of them was badly used up.

The next day the enemy, with a half-dozen ironclads and some twenty transports, loaded with troops, ascended the Yazoo river, landed a portion of the troops, and commenced shelling Snyder’s Bluff. We suspected it to be merely a ruse to draw our troops from other quarters, and our predictions proved correct, for that night they re-embarked, went back to their old landing at Young’s Point, and struck out through Louisiana for Port Gibson. The gunboats stayed and bombarded Snyder’s Bluff heavily all the succeeding day. Some days previous, the bulk both of the Federal army and ours had left, and were marching toward Port Gibson, on either side of the river.

May 1st.—On this day began the series of battles which ended the 17th, resulting so disastrously to our arms. General Bowen met the enemy, who had crossed below Port Gibson, and were marching on it. He repulsed and kept them back a whole day, but as his force was small, and General Grant’s whole army was coming against him, he deemed it prudent to spike the unmanageable guns and evacuate the place, which he did on the morning of May 2d. There was a sharp loss on each side. We lost General Tracy, of Alabama, and General Bowen’s chief of artillery. Anderson’s Virginia battery, having eight pieces, and the best equipped I ever saw, lost fifty six horses, six guns and thirty-seven men. The two remaining guns were lost at Champion Hills, and but few men were left.

My company was detailed on the night of May 1st to go on outpost guard, in the intrenchments at the bend of the river above Vicksburg. This had been a nightly duty for our brigade ever since the Yankee fleet made its appearance in the latter part of January. Rain or shine, hot or cold, some of us had to lie in the ditches every night, so that it had become commonplace. This night was warm and pleasant, and it was quite as agreeable there as in camp. We placed our guns in proper place in case of an alarm, listened to and chatted awhile about the booming cannon at Port Gibson, then spread our blankets and laid us down for a good night’s sleep.

At the hour of midnight we were aroused from our slumbers by the heavy tread of troops crossing a bridge not far from us. They passed directly by us, going, as we supposed, to Port Gibson, and the boys were in high spirits; they had heard the rattle of musketry before. It was General Moore’s brigade, which had just come from the Yazoo and Deer Creek country. The next evening we had to go on picket duty, in front of Chickasaw Bayou. Though no enemy was visible in that direction, we thought it best to guard against any emergency. Our picket line was over a mile long, and it was no fun posting and instructing sentinels. The days were then getting hot enough to kill a fat man, and at night the mosquitoes were far more terrible than anticipated Yankee shells and bullets.

Just now there was a grand move in our whole army. All the troops that had been stationed around Snyder’s Bluff had orders to go below that evening. At dusk the column commenced passing our post, and for three long hours they filed by, three brigades and several smaller detachments going. The artillery, which can move faster than infantry, struck camp before day, and away they went lumbering down the valley. The 3d Maryland battery was camped near our picket post, and left at sunrise. We began to feel kinder ticklish, for we knew not of any brigade save our own that was left to defend Vicksburg. At the same time, we felt honored by being trusted with so important a duty.

Everything was now on a war footing. All along our picket line there was a war going on all night between the boys and the mosquitoes, and next morning many of them reported no sleep but many oaths. Some blessed the critters, and some the Yankee nation. Now, the great waters, which had for several months submerged the whole Chickasaw battle-field, had subsided into their proper channel, and were yet fast sinking, to the great discomfiture of the pillaging ironclads.

I worried out the night with the biters, saw all in proper shape next morning, which was the Sabbath, and as the beams of old "Sol" were getting well nigh perpendicular, I concluded to steal a march on the fellows, and go to the shade for a few hours, though contrary to a strict line of duty. I sauntered leisurely away, no one noticing my course, and when I had got half a mile and on higher ground, it was cooler, and I was tempted to go further. On and on I went, through a rather rugged and constantly ascending country, till I suddenly came to a nice little cottage, more than a mile from my post. Knowing that there was a charming somebody there, and that I might get a good dinner, I accidentally happened in, to blow a few minutes. Minutes stretched into quarters, and quarters into two hours, when in came a contraband, who, with a pleasing countenance, announced, "Dinna’s ready." A pleasant chat, a glorious dinner, and then I hasted back to my post, many not knowing I had been absent. So the world moves.

On being relieved from picket and going back to camp, we found orders to cook four days’ rations. Times looked squally, and we went right at it, and in a very few hours were ready for the fray. We had scarcely got to bed when the booming of cannon said something was wrong on the river. Notwithstanding we had been constantly on duty three days and nights, we had to get up quickly and go double-quick thence. As we hurried on we could hear the steam rapidly escaping from a Federal craft. When we gained the top of the hill overlooking the scene of action, the object was in the range of our heaviest and hottest batteries. In a few minutes smoke and flame burst forth from the craft, the batteries ceased firing, and she burned to the water’s edge in front of the city. Twenty-three out of the crew of twenty-five were captured, some of them being badly scalded. It proved to be a tug-boat, laden with medical stores, with a barge on either side protected by cotton bales, and the two said to contain 50,000 rations.

That was our last experience with night visitors on the water. They "smelt a mice," and came no more.

The morning of the 4th came, and no indications of an immediate move. A week previous, Capts. Blair, Gammon and myself had made arrangements with an old negro woman, in the suburbs of Vicksburg, to prepare for us on this day a good dinner—an important desideratum to a soldier. We got the semi-approbation of Colonel Crawford, and went to comply with our promise, not forgetting to prepare for a notification if the regiment should move. The good old Auntie fixed up the best dinner I ever ate in Mississippi, having every variety of vegetables, meats and other things, and a splendid dessert. It only cost us $3.00 each; at the Washington Hotel, the best in the city, dinner cost $2.00, and was not much better than we got in camp.

On our way back to camp we visited the public cemetery, and saw many nice marble tombs and beautiful, shaded walks. One portion of the cemetery was assigned for soldiers’ graves. Six noble youths of my company are entombed there. I wrote all the consoling and encouraging words I could to the parents of each. Some one has appropriately said that, "when this strife ceases, the proudest monument that could be raised would be to the unrecorded dead."

On the 5th of May glorious news came to us from two quarters. The lightning’s flash said that General Lee had defeated and driven the enemy back across the Rappahannock at Chancellorsville. A few hours later it said that General Forrest had captured a whole command, 1,600 cavalry, near Rome, Georgia. They were making a Morgan raid. The next two days were exceedingly cool and chilly, and we spent our time in drilling and otherwise preparing for a muss. Everything was as calm and quiet as though no armies were nigh. To add to the gloom caused by the weather, we got news that Stonewall Jackson was dead. History will record him as the mightiest hero of the field. His place can not be filled. The nation mourns his loss. He died of wounds received at Chancellorsville.

CHAPTER II.

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ROOM NO. 19, BLOCK 4, DEPOT PRISONERS OF WAR,}
JOHNSON’S ISLAND, OHIO, July 18, 1863.}

As a soldier’s bark tosses about on the uncertain ocean of life, though there is much monotonous routine of rough, hard duty, and not a few unexpected and ungenerous mishaps, still there is, now and then, an episode to make one forget it all, and feel that he is in an oasis in the midst of the desert. Dark clouds sometimes have silvery linings, and every picture has a bright side, if we will but search aright for it. Some fore-knowledge, experience and a free good will, have taught me to avail myself of every opportunity, yea, sometimes to make an opportunity, to seek out these bright and pleasant places, and full many an hour of bliss has it brought me.

About the 1st of May I sent one of my men, who had undergone a long spell of fever, and was again threatened, to the country, where he could get more tender treatment than in camp or hospital. A week later, by permission of the Colonel, I chartered Dr. Ernest’s horse and rode out to see him, at the hospitable mansion of Capt. Edwards, the best old farmer in all the country about. Some four or five other convalescents from our regiment were there. Mrs. E. cared for them as kindly as if they had been her own, and the boys loved her for it. She told me there had been no less than thirty-seven sick men in her house since the troops had been stationed there. I found my man so much recuperated as to be able for camp in a few days. I partook of a good dinner, said adieu, and started in a hurry for our camp, four miles distant.

Not far off my route was the residence of Dr. Cook, with whose family I was intimately acquainted. I thought it very probable that we would move soon, so I easily persuaded myself to halt and say farewell. I am not sure that I would have ever known the Doctor but from the fact that he had three accomplished and interesting daughters. It was my first visit for a month, and they seemed glad to see me. First I greeted the madam, and soon there came tripping in the ones I most desired to see, fresh as morning roses and full of life. The eldest, Miss Lucy, was thoroughly educated, being well versed in several languages, quite good looking, brilliant, witty and sarcastic, the very kind of a "sawyer" I sometimes like to strike against. Misses Potia and Mary Vic, though not quite so brilliant, were amiable and interesting, and the hours glided by till, the first thing I knew, the sun was gilding the tree tops. I called for and heard a few choice pieces on the piano, by Miss Lucy, accompanied by Miss Potia’s vocal melody. Then, taking several bouquets for their friends in camp, I lingered on the portals as I bade adieu, perhaps forever. Striking a lope, I reached camp at dusk, delivered the mementoes and messages, and followed on after my company, which had just gone on duty at the breastworks on the river bank. That’s the last piano I’ve heard, the last parlor I’ve entered and the last refined society I have been in up to date.

Our brigade commissary got a supply of flour and sugar on the 11th of May. I procured for my mess, consisting of myself, three Lieutenants and our cook, eighty pounds of sugar at 12 1-2 cents, and sixty pounds of flour at 20 cents, which was our allowance. With what other little stock we had on hand, we thought ourselves in good fix for awhile. But the sequel was, we lost it all.

That evening, Lieut. J. T. Earnest and myself borrowed a metal skiff and took a ride on the bosom of the great Father of Waters. We started to go over to the Louisiana shore, but being warned by a sentinel that we might be fired on by the water batteries, we thought it discretion to desist.

Just at dusk, Mrs. Hinson, a poor, good woman, who lived near our camp, and whose husband was in the service, sent for one of my Lieutenants and myself to sit up with the corpse of one of her children. We could not refuse to go, and were glad to give rest and comfort to a distressed mother. The morning of May 12th was the last one that ever dawned on us in our camp, that had become so home-like to us. For several days past matters had been so quiet that we had ceased to be in suspense, and, instead of active, restless, field duty, were enjoying customary camp life.

At two o’clock, P. M., orders came from General Vaughn to cook three days’ rations. So often had similar orders come that it startled us not, and we went leisurely to work, not dreaming that we would leave before next day, if then. At four o’clock another order said everything must be ready to move at six o’clock, taking nothing except what we had on our backs, one blanket, war equipments, and a single cooking utensil to the mess. This time we were actually going to leave, and the prognostications were, for very active service. Everything was now astir, hurrying up the beef and cakes, and fixing up duds to leave in the care of the sick, of whom there were almost a hundred. As the appointed hour drew nigh the hurry increased.

At half-past five the long roll beat for all to arms, and though many of the men had not finished cooking, there was no longer time to tarry. Officers were busy seeing who were and who were not able to go, and leaving instructions for the sick. I had to leave fifteen of my men who were not able to travel; never a word have I heard from them since. Precisely at six all were in line, and with various feelings and expressions we bade adieu to our romantic home in the hollow.

We were met at the main road by the other regiments of our brigade, the 61st and 62d Tennessee, commanded by Colonels Pitts and Rowan. Ours being the senior regiment, took the advance, and the column moved on through a stifling dust, we knew not whither bound. At ten o’clock in the night we turned aside from the road and struck camp in a woodland near Mount Albion Church. We built huge log fires, and chatted around them for awhile, then wrapped up in our blankets and laid down to sleep and rest our weary limbs. All was soon hushed and still, till three next morning, when the long roll aroused us. In fifteen minutes all were up and ready to move again. Just as streaks of light began peeping from the East we entered the main road at Dr. Newman’s; following that to its intersection with the Jackson and Vicksburg Railroad, we left it, taking along the latter in the direction of Jackson. We now knew our first point of destination, which was Big Black Bridge, ten miles away. We halted at eight o’clock, partook of a frugal but refreshing snack, then plodded on, reaching the bridge near noon. We passed over to the east side and took quarters in the intrenchments just vacated by troops ordered forward.

There was a general move to the front. Two brigades were then leaving, and during the evening General Stephenson’s division passed. From the dense clouds we knew the storm must be brewing, and that the clash of arms might soon be heard and seen. Already had the advance pickets on each side been fighting, and the enemy had been making a reconnoisance to within ten miles of that very place.

That day I first saw General Pemberton, who, accompanied by his staff and General Tom. Taylor, of Kentucky, was going to the front.

Now, a word about our afterward unfortunate position. The country all around is low and level. A line of intrenchments something over a mile in length had been cut in a zigzag, circular shape, crossing the railroad, and terminating at the river above and below. Nature afforded no favorable elevations, but those earthworks were certainly in favor of the holders. The whole bottom was one vast corn-field, containing perhaps 300 acres. Several gin houses and sheds were partially filled with cotton bales, and several hundred bales had been used in constructing batteries and defenses for ammunition and the wounded. As an inevitable result, much of the corn, which was about a foot high, was trodden down by the soldiery in the construction of the works. We learned on the 14th that the Federals had taken Jackson with little or no resistance. The cause of the weak defense we never learned.

That morning, seeing that everything was right, I started out on a foraging expedition, and after a smart tramp found a lady who sold me two pounds of butter at $1.00 per pound, cheap enough; and she gave me a gallon of milk, for which we usually paid $1.00. I engaged more for next day, and while I was sitting in the piazza resting and admiring the beautiful flowers, shrubbery and evergreens in the yard, a rain storm came on and poured for an hour. It abated and I started for camp, but got soaked to the skin. I found the boys standing wrapped in their blankets, and taking the pelting rain like wet turkeys, the greatest care of each being his gun. All our ditches were filled to the brim, and had the Yanks come then, it would have been face to face. When it cleared off that evening we drained and bailed off most of the water. That night the cold, wet ground was our pillow. Next morning we heard desultory firing some distance off, in the supposed direction of the enemy. Many thought the battle had begun, but it proved to be General Buford’s brigade firing off their wet guns. We spent the forenoon in cleaning and fixing up our contraptions for a Yankee hunt.

In the afternoon of May 15th we were quietly basking in the sunshine about the intrenchments, expecting to fight there if the enemy came. But how vain the expectations of man. At three o’clock orders came for our regiment to be ready to move in ten minutes. All rushed to arms, for some one whispered that the foe were not far in the distance. Right soon we were on the march to Edwards’ Depot, five miles east, where we arrived at sunset, and camped in an old field hard by. We found an immense wagon train just moving toward Clinton and Jackson. Our whole army had been concentrating there for several days, and had only a few hours before moved forward. That night my company and that of Captain Hale were ordered on picket duty. We took position on the main Raymond road, keeping a small outpost some half mile in advance, and still two miles farther out was a cavalry picket. We were suspecting a dash of the enemy’s cavalry that night, but they came not.

Various were the rumors in regard to the movements of our adversaries, but the fact was that Grant, from Port Gibson, and Pemberton, from Vicksburg, had been marching almost parallel, their lines converging and coming in contact some four miles out from Edwards’ Depot on the morning of 16th May. General Gregg’s brigade had, a few days before, fought a Federal division at Raymond, but had to give way before superior numbers, after his noble Fort Donelson and Chickasaw Bayou boys had repulsed them gallantly for several hours.

From our picket post, on the morning of the 16th, we could plainly hear the opening of the contest at Champion Hill. First came the usual skirmish firing, sometimes in volleys, then a few cannon commenced blazing away, and as the sun neared the zenith, faster and hotter became the engagement. Up to near noon was spent in strategy and manœuvering, the lines of battle getting changed almost perpendicular to their original position. Then the work commenced in earnest. Now, for perhaps an hour, the artillery roars like thunder, deadening everything else; now it measurably ceases, and the din of small arms, as thick as hail pattering on the roof, can be heard for several miles along the line. Sometimes successive volleys belch forth, then again we hear the random, desultory firing. And now the brazen batteries open anew from a fresh place. For a while the deadly combat goes on, then all breaks off into silence. But again, like a smothered fire, the battle breaks forth at a new point in all its former fury, and we imagine that the enemy are being driven back, for the sound seems to get more distant; but it proved that the contending parties had got into a hollow, and there was a mighty slaughter on both sides. At one point our troops occupied the edge of a wood fronting a corn field. Twice did the enemy attempt to charge them, but each time with a sad result to the attacking party. Then a fresh storming party came in front and on the flank, and our men were routed and driven with heavy loss.

About two o’clock the wounded and stragglers commenced passing our post, going to the rear. The latter we halted and kept with us. Within an hour, several hundred men, wounded in every conceivable manner, passed by, about one half of them being shot in the hands and arms, as is usually the case in a battle. Stragglers were constantly reporting that our army was being whipped—that the enemy were too many in number. From the increased stream coming back, it began to seem too painfully true, for at four o’clock the whole road was lined with fragments of regiments and parts of batteries.

Half an hour later, General Pemberton came up to my post and asked why my company was not to the front. I told him we were on picket, and he said it was all right. To my inquiry as to the shape of the battle, he said: "We are whipped, but the enemy outnumbered us three to one." Though calm in conduct, he appeared greatly agitated in mind. While there a courier came up with a dispatch from General Joseph E. Johnston. He read it, studied a moment, gritted his teeth, and remarked to his staff: "Had General Johnston sent me this dispatch yesterday, this battle would not have been fought!" He handed the message to his Adjutant General, saying, "Here, preserve this, it may be of value to me some day." I afterward found out that the dispatch was an order to avoid a collision with the enemy, and unite his force with Johnston’s in the vicinity of Clinton. And I then surmised that he wanted it preserved, believing that his conduct would undergo an investigation.

Now the whole army was in full retreat, several brigades tarrying on the battle-field to hold the enemy in check. General Tilghman, of Kentucky, lost his life late in the evening, while keeping the enemy back at a bridge on the left.

It looked like another stand was to be made at Edwards’ Depot, for all the troops were stopped there; but near dusk the army resumed its march toward Big Black. As we left the Depot, car loads of provisions, ammunition and medical stores, as well as cotton houses all round, could be seen in flames, to keep them from the enemy. As our rear guard evacuated the place the Federals occupied it, sending grape and canister after the boys, but not pursuing further. Before ten o’clock Big Black was reached, and a portion of the army passed on in the direction of Vicksburg. The rest remained to give the enemy fight.

Our regiment was ordered to the extreme right, beyond the real line of defense. We took position behind the levee, and with a few spades soon had some rough earthworks constructed. After the excitement of the day, and the night march, we wrapped our martial cloaks about us at the hour of midnight, and slept soundly till day.

Perhaps four thousand men and twenty pieces of artillery were left to defend the place, and we felt sure the enemy would march on us next morning. That night, while intrenching, I said to our Colonel and several others that we would surely "go up right there," for there was no means of retreat, the river being directly in our rear and no crossing save near the bridge, and that was frail and inadequate. I was sure that an army at least four-fold of our number was coming against us, and, with such a position as we had, it was preposterous to think of holding out for more than a few hours. However, nothing daunted, we made the best preparation we could to receive them.

At seven o’clock next morning our pickets began a brisk fire with their cavalry advance. In one hour more their infantry and artillery came up, and soon an artillery duel commenced, lasting a half hour. Then there was a silence while the guns of the foemen were being put in better places and in closer proximity. Then again they opened, and shot and shell rained for awhile, but doing no serious damage. The whistling rifled cannon balls that split open the trees in our rear made some of the boys open their eyes, but most of them were perfectly calm. Some hours were occupied by the enemy in getting their various infantry columns into position.

They encompassed our whole line, and in many places dense columns could be seen advancing. On our left a thick forest was within a half mile of our line, and here it was that the enemy made their first demonstration. First the sharpshooters tried their hands; then several brigades of infantry, like brave Spartans, came out into the open ground; but the Southern boys soon made them hustle back to the cover of the timber. Next an advance was made upon our center, and a brisk fight, at long range, continued for perhaps an hour.

Soon a column was seen filing to the right of our line, and we were fully expecting a brush there. The tide of battle ebbed and flowed till near eleven o’clock, when the enemy finding, through a deserter, a flaw in our works, made a bold and successful charge through the unguarded space, about the center of our left wing. In overwhelming numbers they were now upon our flank and rear, so that our men had no earthly show of resistance: they must run, surrender, or be shot down. The commanding officer, seeing the situation, gave immediate orders for evacuation; but the Federals could reach the only crossing of Big Black river as soon as we possibly could.

My regiment, being on the extreme right, was not aware of the situation for some minutes; then, after a short consultation by the regimental officers, we thought it best to attempt an escape down the river; accordingly we made tracks in that direction, but had gone only a little way when we saw ourselves hemmed in, and the blue-coats swarming from the brush half a mile in our front. Colonel Crawford had made his escape, so Lieut.-Colonel Gregg consulted with the officers, and it was conceded by all that there was no alternative but to surrender. We formed the regiment in line, threw down our arms and accoutrements, and Colonel Gregg rode out to meet the enemy, who were rushing on with wild huzzas. I and many others shed tears for a few moments; then I summoned up my manhood, and counseled my boys not to be dejected or cowed, but as valorous as ever, for we had tried to do our whole duty, and were guiltless.

We surrendered to General Burbridge, of Kentucky. Some few of the Northern soldiery were inclined to be insolent, but seeing the spirit of our boys, the officers had us treated justly. I found several Federal Kentucky regiments, and many men I had known in days before. An hour after I was captured I took dinner with Colonel George Monroe, of Frankfort, Kentucky, and got the first genuine coffee and good old ham I had seen in many a day. Need I say it made me feel delicious all over, and that I can not forget the kindness of that Federal officer?

In his regiment I met a Dutchman who was once our bootmaker at the Kentucky Military Institute. Approaching me with a broad, genial grin on his countenance, he said in his broken twang, "I knows you, but can’t tell who you are; I used to make you boots." I told him I was glad to meet him, but sorry to find him in such bad company. "No," said he, "it is you what be in bad company." One of my schoolmates of two years before was on the staff of Gen. Smith, who was against us. The casualties in the Union army far exceeded our own. In their last grand charge they lost several field officers and several hundred men.

To any one familiar with military matters, it was evident that weak generalship was the cause of our terrible disaster. Many cried out that General Pemberton had "sold us," but the impression was far from universal. At Baker’s Creek he allowed the enemy to out manœuver him and flank our troops, and crush out our brigades in detail—so say those who participated. The defenses at Big Black were badly planned, and wise generalship would have dictated a means of escape in case of emergency. But we are too prone to condemn a commander when he meets with defeat. When the matter is sifted I think it will be found that General P. had a willing mind, but was deficient in the martial talent necessary to manœuver an army in the field.

Now comes a new era in our existence as soldiers. We are no longer strong armed and brave hearted boys, ready and willing to rush on into the ranks of the foe at the bidding of those we loved to obey and follow. True, we still possess the same physical qualities and the same hearts, but they are powerless now. We are prisoners of war, subject to the will and mandates of those into whose hands we have fallen. I must say that, so far, we have generally been treated with the courtesy due a prisoner.

But I left us in the hands of the exulting Yanks on the verge of the Big Black. We were formed in two lines and marched along the line of our deserted intrenchments to a shady woodland half a mile off.

Big Black bridge, a splendid structure, was now in flames, and a sharp cannonade was going on between our men over the river and the Yankees, who were trying to cross. Had the engagement lasted a half hour longer, a whole division of troops and twelve rifled cannon would have come against our single regiment. We were going to try them a whack, though they would have overpowered us after we had slayed perhaps a hundred or so of them. Our nerves were all braced for the expected onset, and the boys would have battled valiantly.

It was now the 17th day of May, and the sun was blazing hot, so the shade to which we were escorted was quite pleasant. Stragglers were being picked up in all directions, and our captive band soon amounted to 2,500, the whole number captured. A guard line was formed, and we were allowed loose range over several acres of ground. The Yankee boys soon mixed all among us, and were anxious to know why we rebels were fighting so ardently against "the best government the world ever saw." Some would argue the subject matter like philosophers, others would get mad and fly off. There was an entire freedom of intercourse, and the Federal officers came in, too, and, when they could distinguish them from the privates, talked with our "big officers" about things in general.

They were exceedingly jubilant, for their telegraph said Richmond had fallen, and they said they were going to take Vicksburg next day like a flash, which they didn’t, neither had the Confederate Capital gone under. Altogether, it was a semi-interesting occasion, and that vast general admixture of gray jackets and blue coats was a fit subject for the graphic pencil of an artist.

While the time was thus passing, the rear of the Union army, wagon trains, cavalry scouts, plunderers and contrabands were constantly arriving. They had the best equipped wagon train I ever saw, nearly all six horse or mule teams, splendid stock, and all in excellent condition. It was a wonderful sight to behold the three heavy siege guns, drawn by sixteen oxen each. They were fifteen feet long and otherwise in proportion. I had not dreamed that such ponderous things could be transported through the country from Port Gibson.

For half a mile around us the woodland was thick with Yankees, Confeds, stock, wagons and colored folks. The loyal troops, who had been living on half rations for some time, were taking a hasty snack. Though most of us had eaten nothing since the day before, not a bite did we get. The house of a planter near by, and who had fled when the battle came on, was splendidly furnished with costly things, and contained a large, choice library. The whole premises were sacked by the Northern soldiery, and that too right under the eyes of several Generals who had made headquarters in the house. It was within our guard line.

All the afternoon the enemy were engaged in tearing down several barns and making pontoon bridges across Big Black river, and just before nightfall the bulk of their army passed over and on to take Vicksburg next day. We remained on the ground that night, being promised something to eat next morning. Several times we were got into line and counted, and after being numbered the last time, the officers were relieved of their swords and pistols. Some had thrown theirs away rather than surrender them.

My revolver had already been taken by an impudent puppy of a staff officer. Without orders and with a haughty air he ordered me to give it to him. I told him I had been thus ordered several times, but had refused, and did still refuse, to give it up unless ordered by a competent authority. A Major-General was standing near by. I approached him and asked if I must deliver it over. He said "yes," and I did so. The pompous, contemptible manner of the being with shoulder straps on who demanded it deeply aroused my indignation, and I had a burning desire to tell the chap what I thought of him.

At two P. M., 18th May, the officer in charge of us said he would take us to Edwards’ Depot, where he could get some rations for us. Our escort were the 23d Iowa and the 54th Indiana. Upon getting to the Depot we found Gen. Hovey’s division of the army there, and all along the road we noticed Federal soldiery occupying the farm houses. The citizens were generally gone, and their homes were being made desolate.

The darkies were congregated about in groups, congratulating each other upon their supposed freedom. Many of them were ludicrously dressed in all the good clothing of their masters and mistresses. Poor creatures, did they only know of the degradation to which they are drifting.

We were marched out a half mile to an old field where there was an abundance of water, and there we pitched camp again. It was now sundown, and from long fasting our appetites were whittled down to a keen point, but the commandant said we should have rations before we slept. Many of the boys had not tasted food for two days; now and then a generous Fed. would share his mite with a hungry Reb. At ten o’clock beef, sugar and meal came, but no salt, and nothing to cook in. So, many again wrapped up in the arms of Morpheus, and dreamed of good things to eat, just out of their reach.

It was in this wise that I got my supper: My orderly sergeant skinned some bark from a green tree in which to make up the dough, which he wrapped up in writing paper, and wetting the paper, covered it up with embers. The bread cooked without burning the paper, and of a truth never did bread taste more sweet and palatable. Many were the ways in which our rations were served up on that occasion. Indeed is necessity the mother of invention.

Perhaps it may be no honor to tell of light-fingered tricks, but I’ll risk the condemnation and tell what Captain Blair and myself did. At ten o’clock at night a huge pile of beef, bacon and meal, guarded by Yanks, was surrounded by a thousand rebels, all anxious as children round a Christmas tree. That commissary stuff was to be divided among the whole camp, Federal and Confederate, and would make the individual ration rather slim. While the commissary sergeants were busy dealing out rations to the representatives of various companies and detachments, Blair managed to get his clutches on a bacon ham, and my fingers tightened on a hundred pound sack of meal, and in triumph did we march to where our boys were camped, and the presumption is that we had full rations next day. The meat and meal had been captured from our army, and it surely should be no offense to take back our own. At any rate, I did not then feel, nor have I ever since felt, any compunctions of conscience over the matter.

At three o’clock May 19th we took the back track, arriving at Big Black just at dusk. We crossed the river on a pontoon bridge, and camped in a corn field on the river bluff. That night Col. Gates and his adjutant, Frank Clewell, of the 2d Missouri cavalry, escaped. Next morning we got beef and meal for breakfast. I managed to get out of the guard line and "borrow" a little coffee and bacon in the Yankee camps, and while out I managed to "draw" a coffee pot, which accompanied us to prison. Almost before we had time to cook our lean rations orders came to move.

Before eight o’clock we were traveling toward Vicksburg. We passed many beautiful mansions, and everywhere the ladies came out to give us a look of profound sympathy. Some, whose hopes and fortitude had almost sunk, shed tears; others, with stronger and braver hearts, waved their white ‘kerchiefs and audibly blessed us, wishing us a speedy return to battle for Southern rights. We gave them cheers, told them all would yet be well, and some whose feelings were more tender could not restrain the tear drops that flowed in sympathy for these noble women of the South.

At noon we halted for water and rest directly in rear of Vicksburg, and but a few hundred yards from the Federal line of investment. A brisk cannonade was then going on from either side. We stopped in sight of the residence of Dr. Cook, where I had spent so many pleasant hours. He had taken his family and gone into Vicksburg among the besieged. His house was now a hospital, and his yard, orchard and fields a dense wagon yard. Mrs. Lake’s residence, near by, was also being used as a hospital; all was gone to rack.

After an hour’s rest we marched on, going close by our old camp ground, and taking in the direction of Snyder’s Bluff. After traversing some three miles, we turned abruptly to the left, and descending the rugged hills that overlook that memorable spot, we passed directly over the battle ground of Chickasaw Bayou, which proved so disastrous to the Federals about the close of the old year, four hundred having been captured and at least a thousand killed and wounded, on an area of not over four acres. Very many of our boys along knew all about the matter from experience, and some of our Federal escort had a slight idea of the place, the 54th Indiana having lost over two hundred men there.

It was at this point that we commenced meeting wagons laden with army stores for the troops besieging Vicksburg. They came over a corduroy road from Lake’s Landing, on the Yazoo river, where still other boats were then landing. Snyder’s Bluff, which had withstood many a pelt from the Yankee iron-clads, was now evacuated, and several gunboats were already dispatched to Yazoo City, in hopes of capturing two splendid gunboats being built there. But the bird was flown; the torch had done its work. The supply train that we passed numbered a hundred wagons, and we met a brigade going to Vicksburg, they said, but we assured them they would get no admittance.

We arrived at the Yazoo about dark, having traveled over twenty miles since eight o’clock, most of the time through a stifling dust. We found a dozen transports and a host of soldiers, citizens and boatmen, all full of joy, for they thought one-half of Pemberton’s army was there. Within an hour’s time we got plentiful rations, but had no way of cooking, and besides that, most of us were too weary to think of anything but rest and sleep. All night long, at regular intervals, the enemy’s mortar boats were throwing shell into the city.

During the forenoon of May 21st, we managed to get our appetites satiated and our bodies well saturated, for a beating rain poured on us for an hour, and we had the opportunity of taking a refreshing bath in a bayou close by. All day long a heavy bombardment was going on at Vicksburg, by both gun and mortar boats, being occasionally relieved by volleys of infantry. So many and so great had been our misfortunes that many of us were almost willing to concede that Vicksburg must succumb in a few days, but hope and faith in the future still buoyed us up.

Late that evening we took passage on some transports bound for Young’s Point, Louisiana. My regiment chartered the steamer "Chancellor" for the occasion. At dusk we went out of the Yazoo onto the broad Mississippi, and at eight o’clock rounded to at Young’s Point, and remained aboard over night. We could plainly see the mortar boats shelling Vicksburg, which was in full view of our position. We could only distinguish the light of the fuse in the bomb, which would go up and up for several thousand feet, then down, down, down into the devoted city, but not more than one-half of them exploded, and the damage was slight. They threw shells a distance of two and a half miles, and it was a beautiful sight to behold those seeming streaks of light traverse the midnight darkness in pleasing curves.

From our camps around Vicksburg we had seen the Federal fleet anchored at Young’s Point since Christmas day of 1862, but had never dreamed of being there in that capacity; though the boys often joked each other about going to "Camp Chase" and other Northern prisons. At nine o’clock May 22d, we for the first time set foot on Louisiana soil, and camped where the phalanx of Yankee tents had been arrayed all winter and spring.

Often had we heard of the great mortality among the Federal soldiers stationed there, and now saw ample cause for it all. There was a low, flat country behind the levee, both swampy and filthy. All along the edge of the levee were thick groups of graves, with here and there a rough slab to mark the last resting place of some poor, deluded fellow, who thought he was fighting for the preservation of the government in its purity, instead of for the subjugation of the rights and institutions of the Southern people.

Here the rebel officers were separated from the privates, our camps being a quarter of a mile apart, and it was with difficulty that we procured the privilege of going to see our sick men. We had to go a half mile to the river to get water and wood to cook our rations. But three could go at once, and were invariably escorted by a chap wearing a blue coat and sporting a musket and a "six-shooter."

The whole number of prisoners now collected from various quarters was about 3,500, some 170 of them being officers. The sun was almost insufferably hot, and we made shades with brush, and with our blankets stretched on poles.

May 23d was a dull, monotonous day, except when relieved by the artillery duels going on around the city. It seems that at two o’clock the gunboats were to make a combined and stubborn attempt to silence our river batteries. It was reported that in the onset one iron-clad went to "Davy Jones’ locker;" anyway, men came from that direction dripping wet, and the firing died away.

The next day was Sunday, and everybody but us put on good clothes, and went sauntering about to see what they could find. We were excusable, for we had none to put on. Quite a number of Federal officers who had not yet seen the "monkey show" came loitering around our guard line, prying into the general physiognomy of the boys and old men that were fighting against "the best government the sun ever shone on."

Our boys would meet them at the guard line and discuss the matter freely—concessions were sometimes mutually made, but I never knew of any one being convinced or converted. We struck them heavy on the nigger question, giving freely our opinion of those who were willing to equalize themselves with the sweet-scented sons and daughters of Africa. They would most always "whip the devil round the stump," and deny many patent facts. Many "up the river men" lurked about our camps, anxious to see what kind of stuff rebels were made of.

About noonday we beheld a stately column approaching from the direction of Richmond, La., and lo! when they came near unto us we perceived it to be composed of nearly three hundred contrabands, with their cubs and bundles of rags, hunting freedom.

Hundreds of them were already squatted about in squalid hovels and tents, with no means of subsistence, save the scraps they could pick up round the soldiers’ camps. ‘Twill be a dear-bought freedom to them, for the Northerners don’t really love them, and won’t take them into brotherhood. They only want to destroy the institution, thinking not and caring not what will become of the unfortunate wretches.

Though very many in the South believe, and more contend, that it is the desire and aim of the whole Northern army to free the slaves, it is a false imputation. The majority of the Northwestern men do not care to interfere with the institution where it now exists. But it is the policy of the administration, and the commanding officers must do the will of him at the helm of State. They say to the soldiery that it is a military necessity to weaken the strength of the rebels, pretending that It is all only for the restoration of the Union as it was.

The Democracy of the North seem to have just awakened into the light of the true issue. But it is now too late to avert the storm. Arms must decide the case.

On the morning of the 25th we were notified that steamboats were coaling up to transport us up the river. Three days’ rations were furnished to last us to Memphis, and we spent the forenoon in getting ready for a journey. At two o’clock we took up our beds and walked for the landing, accompanied by the 23d Wisconsin and 80th Ohio. Our fleet was made up of the following boats: the Crescent City, Ohio Belle, Gladiator, Omaha, the Gen. Robert Allen and a gunboat to keep off the guerrillas that infested the river. I was on board the Omaha, which had some 800 men. The gun boat mounted ten heavy guns, and one-half its crew were gallant boys all the way from Africa.

All this while the siege had been going on at Vicksburg, and the enemy during the past week had made several heavy concentrated charges, every time being driven back with frightful loss. Our faith in the invincibility of Vicksburg was growing stronger.

At four o’clock we steamed off, taking a last, lingering look at the gallant city as she faded in the distance, and leaving our blessings and best wishes with her noble defenders. We were glad to get away from the hearing of a contest in which we felt so deep an interest, but could not lend a helping hand.

Near dusk we passed Millikin’s Bend, and in a little while a cannon shot whizzed over our heads, making us feel somewhat ticklish, thinking the ubiquitous rebels were firing into us from the shore. But it proved to be a signal from the iron-clad for the boats to "haul to;" then they were ordered to get in line one after another, in which manner they traveled all night. I took sleeping quarters in the open air on top, it being too warm on the inside. As we glided along over the placid waters I watched the varied scenery, lit up by the pale moonbeams, till near the hour of midnight. Then I wrapped up in my blanket and knew no more till the sun was shining in my face next morning.

The natural scenery on the Mississippi is the most dull and monotonous imaginable. But few high, rugged, picturesque cliffs meet the view, and the conformation of the earth and the growth along the shore presents an unpleasing sameness. In many places, for miles, no habitation could be seen, and ofttimes when we did pass a plantation it was devastated and deserted. At three o’clock we passed the steamers Luminary and Ben Franklin, carrying subsistence to Vicksburg. They were convoyed by the rebel gunboat "General Bragg," a craft of novel construction but beautiful appearance, lost by the Confederates at Memphis in the spring of 1862.

At nine o’clock on the morning of the 27th we passed Napoleon, Arkansas, once a thrifty place, but now deserted; only a few forlorn looking women and children could be seen. ‘Twas a true picture of the deserted village. Oh! the horrors of war. About noon we came up with Elliott’s marine brigade, consisting of a fleet of thirteen boats, some new ones, but mostly old New Orleans packets, transformed and barricaded against rifle shots The mission of said brigade is to patrol the river and keep off the partisan rangers in the service of "Dixie." They had cavalry, infantry and some small field pieces, and when attacked they aim to run their cavalry ashore, surround, and "gobble up" the daring Confederates.

They are a heavy expense to the government, but don’t catch many of our boys. Their duty is to halt and inspect every craft going up or down the river. The presumption is they were glad to find so good a cargo of rebels on board our fleet. After an hour’s consultation among the officers we passed on. Several men on our boat had been taken very ill, and that morning a poor fellow, belonging to the 49th Tennessee, died. He was put in a coffin and consigned to the deep, to know the turmoils of earth no more. We know not who was left to mourn at home, or whether friends ever knew of his fate.

As we passed on, the eye and the mind became weary in contemplating the prospect all around. But seldom did we notice a human being, and it was only here and there that a horse or cow could be seen grazing in a field. It seemed as if a great plague had come over the agricultural resources, for where was once beautiful corn and cotton, rank, useless weeds were now growing.

At daylight May 28th we were in front of Helena, Arkansas, and, as at Napoleon, the people were most all gone, and it bore anything but a pleasing aspect. The post was well fortified, being surrounded by rugged hills. We noticed that the garrison was partly composed of colored troops. During the day we passed the ruins of several towns that had been burned by the soldiery. Toward night we could see increasing signs of habitation and prosperity along the shore, and when darkness came we were making ready to cast anchor in front of Memphis.

CHAPTER III.

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"UNCLE SAM’S CONFEDERATE HOTEL,"}
LAKE ERIE, July 24, 1863.}

Arising quite early from my couch on the cabin floor of the "Omaha" on the morning of May 29th, I gained the highest elevation on the boat, and beheld a great city risen up before mine eyes since the daylight had left us. But, like Memphis of old, much of her former prowess and life was gone. Memphis is a large and well built city, and boasts many splendid, towering edifices. The Gayoso House is a magnificent structure and a model Southern hotel. The commercial interests of the city have been very heavy, it being the terminus of several railroads running through fertile and populous regions, and besides that being the central mart of an extensive trade on the Mississippi.

Like all cities that have undergone the devastating influences of the presence of an army, life and activity is, to a great degree, crushed in every department except military supplies. But from her geographical position, the facilities for transportation, and the intelligence and enterprising character of the surrounding community, trade must prosper there so soon as untrammeled by military guardianship.

Most all of our first day at Memphis was spent in coaling and taking aboard a supply of rations to last us to Cairo. We had now been cooped up on the waters for several days, and the inactivity and monotony was becoming quite irksome. We longed to set foot on dry land once again.

During the day the Governor and Adjutant-General of Iowa, with several other notables, visited our boat, as they said, to see what made us rebels hold out so obstinately against the "glorious Union." They were anxious to find out if we were not most willing to lay down our arms and come back to former allegiance. We inquired of them what inducements were offered, and if they expected to make us love them by stealing our negroes and making them equal with themselves, not us. We asked Mr. Adjutant-General if he was willing to fight beside a negro. No! but he was in for any possible means to subdue the rebellion. After an hour’s gossip, in which I think they were not as successful as they anticipated, they took with a leaving.

In the afternoon our guard was changed, the old guard going back to Vicksburg, and the 43d Ohio taking charge of us. They were rather Vallandighamish, were well raised and educated, and had a fair conception of the consideration due a prisoner of war.

That night we expected to weigh anchor and be off; but when the following morning dawned we found ourselves still in front of Memphis. We knew not the cause of the delay. Some twenty sick prisoners were taken ashore and sent to the Memphis hospital. Two men of my company were of the number. Poor fellows, I’m not sure that we will ever see them again. During the day one of the rebel Lieutenants played a Yankee trick on the Yankee nation. He exchanged his Confederate dress for citizen’s garb, deliberately walked aboard of a little boat that came alongside, went ashore, and I reckon is now in Dixie land. Our craft was anchored midstream as a safeguard against escape, yet several fellows swam ashore and got away the first night we stopped at Memphis.

The monotony of the day was somewhat relieved, in my case, by finding two neighbor boys of my youth prisoners on the same boat with me. With Sam. Maguire and John Walker I had gone to school many a day, but from long absence they had been almost forgotten, till my eye fell on their familiar faces. The surprise was mutual, and the meeting a happy one. They had lately heard from our old Kentucky home, and could tell me of many things that had transpired during the many long months that I had been cut off from communication with my people.

It was four o’clock P. M. when we raised steam and bade adieu to the great Western city. The gunboat no longer accompanied us, for the Confederates then seldom operated above Memphis. From Memphis to Cairo the trip was much more agreeable than below. We made better speed, and the atmosphere became cooler and seemed purer. The scenery was more varied, and there was a perceptible change in the soil for the better. Signs of habitation were more frequent, and many plantations were under cultivation.

Sometime during the night of the 30th we passed Fort Pillow, and in the forenoon of the next day we passed the well-known Louisville and Cincinnati mail packet "Jacob Strader," with troops and sanitary stores for Vicksburg. The great difference between above and below Memphis is attributable to the horrors and ravages of war; the line of the river, on both sides, from Memphis to New Orleans being an active military theater.

It was about nine o’clock at night when we passed Island No. 10, a once well-known Confederate fortress, which was taken by an investment rather than by force of arms. The island contains some sixty acres, and is well fortified. A number of troops were stationed there, and several gunboats were tied up along the shore. The commanding officer hailed our fleet, but finding that our cargo consisted mainly of Southern boys going up to board with Uncle Sam, and they not being contraband, under the circumstances, we were allowed to pursue our journey.

Before daylight of June 1st we passed Columbus, Kentucky, and at eight o’clock stood in front of Cairo, having been six and a half days out from Vicksburg, and traveled about six hundred miles. I don’t know of a single one who was not fully satisfied with his boat ride, and willing to go into bond never to go aboard of a steamboat again, if it could be helped. We were sickened out with too much of a good thing.

I had all my life entertained a curiosity and anxiety to go down the river to New Orleans, imagining that, besides the sumptuous entertainment on a first-class New Orleans packet, I would find one almost continuous scene of magnificent plantations, splendid mansions, elegant cities and cosy villages, the whole being interspersed here and there with romantic cliffs, quaint places and picturesque shores. Though seen and enjoyed under disadvantageous circumstances, I’m sure the reality came far short of my conceptions. Experience has taught me that this world, as seen by the naked eye, is far from what it would appear when magnified by the press and the representations of others. In all my travels by land and by water I have seldom found a place just what I anticipated. Sometimes our imaginary pictures of persons, places and things in the distance are made too dim, but too often we magnify them.

The first day of June we were anchored in the mouth of the Ohio river, before the city of Cairo, which was once noted for thieves, pickpockets, murderers, blacklegs and every other class of inhumanity, but is now more civilized and refined. Were it not for its low position, being subject to overflow in high water, Cairo would, ere this, have been a large city, being naturally a central point and a terminus of the great Illinois Central Railroad, and famous for its arrivals and departures of steamboats. A splendid levee has been constructed at great expense, which renders the city, to some extent, proof against high water. It is a larger and better looking place than I expected to see, and was full of life and business. It was a great shipping point for military stores. We saw several gunboats anchored in the stream and others building. I noticed about thirty pieces of heavy artillery lying at the wharf, not mounted. A large number of new government offices, shops and storehouses were visible all about. During the day a number of steamboats arrived from and departed for St. Louis, Louisville, Cincinnati and Memphis. In fact, Cairo exhibited more of the activity of olden times than any place I had seen for a long time.

About noon General Buford, attended by Col. Spalding, of General Grant’s staff, and who had charge of us prisoners, visited us. He was quite jovial, and talked freely and reasonably; said he loved us, and was going to compel us to come back into the good old Union. He had the manliness to acknowledge that he believed we were honestly deluded, and said he gloried in our spunk, but hoped we would soon be convinced of the error of our ways, and be willing to come back. After an hour’s exchange of ideas, which differed widely, he left us in our glory and went his way rejoicing.

All day long trains had been making up to carry us we knew not exactly where. Late in the evening two trains got off loaded with privates. While laboring under a bright recollection of how the Federals treated property, private as well as public, in Mississippi, I "confiscated" a haversack, of which we stood in need. It contained a plate, knife, fork, cup, spoon and other little articles to be found in a soldier’s toilet. I acted in retaliation for wrongs that I had suffered. It’s mighty hard for a soldier to follow the Bible doctrine in that particular.

Between Memphis and Cairo I had written a long letter, portraying the acts and intentions of the Northern army, as seen and expressed before my eyes and hearing. I had the satisfaction of saying precisely what I thought and felt, and I managed to hire a boy to mail it at Cairo to a friend at home. That was the last time up to date that I fully expressed my sentiments, but, though necessarily silent, my feelings are unchanged.

June 2d.—In the forenoon transportation was ready for the balance of the prisoners. The officers were honored with passenger cars, but the privates were shipped as live stock. When we had proceeded some thirty miles out on the Illinois Central, our limited privileges were suddenly cut short by a rather disagreeable incident. A Lieutenant belonging to my regiment jumped from a car window while the train was running, and made his escape back to the "land of cotton." The train was immediately stopped and a vain search made for the daring, reckless traitor, who had no time to tarry, but was making tracks for "Dixie." Colonel Spalding came through the train giving us a lecture; said he had taken pains to make us comfortable and place us under as few restrictions as possible, trusting to our honor not to abuse the privilege, but that he must now double the guard and curtail our liberties. We were after that required to keep the car windows down, and two guards were placed at each door.

For some twenty miles from Cairo is a dense wilderness of small growth, and scarcely a house could be seen. Then we struck a better country, but it was lately cleared, and the houses were new and unpretentious, and their crops of wheat and corn, though late, looked well. As we got further into the interior, habitations became more frequent, and the villages along the road were numerous. In fact, it seems to be a favorite way for the people in that whole section to dwell in little towns. Presently we struck one of those broad and extended prairies so common in the Western country. Thousands of acres stretched out before the vision, with scarcely a hillock to disturb the uniform surface.

Sometimes I noticed hundreds of acres under one fence, the various farms and crops being only separated by a turning row. Then again I saw vast pastures inclosed with fences constructed with posts and only two rounds of plank, well up from the ground. In these beautiful fields were every description of stock, luxuriating midst the rank prairie, herd and other grasses. And now again we rolled along for miles, seeing neither houses, fences nor trees; nothing but great herds of horses and cattle roaming at large, being known only by each farmer’s particular mark.

As we glided along by the various farm houses, the women and children would come rushing out to see the rebels, who were rapidly whirling on prisonward. The first town of any note that we came to was Duquoin, where a great multitude of all sorts had congregated to see the Vicksburg boys. To some of the prying and inquisitive the rebellonians would say, "Take a good look, gentlemen, the show is free," and sometimes a devilish chap would take off his hat and say, "Come up closer, and see my horns." Instead of finding us cowed, they would get ashamed of themselves and go away.

At three o’clock in the afternoon we found ourselves at Centralia, a railroad junction of some importance. It is a beautiful town, and has many signs of wealth and prosperity. Here whole troops of the fair sex flocked out to see us. Many waved their snow-white ‘kerchiefs and had a smile on the countenance, seeming to mean "hurrah for Dixie." As we had to stop for an opposing passenger train, we had an opportunity to talk with many of the citizens, and found right smart of the "Copperhead" spirit prevalent.

All night long we rattled on over the Illinois prairies, and at daylight were at Terre Haute, Indiana, bound for Indianapolis. We were detained here several hours, and our field officers, some ten in number, were allowed to go up town for breakfast. Those of us who had greenbacks bought little things from the peddling boys. Greenbacks were now all the go, Confederate money being worth from ten to twenty-five cents on the dollar, and but few buyers at that. On the way up from Vicksburg I exchanged thirty dollars at the rate of fifteen cents per dollar.

Terre Haute is a large and handsome place, and full of thrift. The folks here looked kinder crooked at the Southern boys, and were not much inclined to talk. Mine eyes have never before beheld so many women and children as are all through that country. In a few more years Uncle Abraham will have a young army to relieve the sick and weary.

The only man that I ever really wanted to harm in my life I found right here. The morning was sultry, and our car being crowded, it was almost suffocating when the train was not in motion. A sergeant came through the cars, and I asked permission to raise a window just a little, for fresh air, which he granted. In a few minutes a black Dutch soldier came along on the outside and yelled out to down with the window. At first I pretended not to hear him, hoping he would go on; but when I saw he was determined to be heard, I turned to him and said the sergeant had given me leave to keep it up. He said it made no difference, the window must come down. I lowered it, and he went on, and I raised it again. Presently he appeared a second time, and poured forth his broken gibberish. I began to expostulate and reason with him, when he lowered his gun, cocked it, and swore he would blow my brains out if I did not close the opening straightway. I had read somewhere, when a little boy, a fable, the moral of which was, "Discretion is often the better part of valor." The happy thought struck me, and I acted upon it immediately by closing down the window, for I did not know but what he would be fool enough to fire away. Who would like to be unjustly ordered by and compelled to obey such a creature? I can not better express my feelings toward him than to say they were such as most of us generally experience when we see a mean, venomous snake.

Leaving Terre Haute about the middle of the forenoon of June 3d, we glided on at a good speed through a fertile and thickly settled country, passing a number of neat towns and hamlets, and arrived at Indianapolis at two o’clock. I had been to Indianapolis before, but under different auspices. ‘Twas the day after the battle of "Bull Run;" then I could laugh on the other side of my mouth.

Though many prisoners had been in Indianapolis, and one would have imagined they were no curiosity, the lawyers, the doctors, merchants, mechanics, women, children and contrabands all ran out to see us. They wanted to get one long, lingering peep at the "seceshers" who were trying so earnestly to break up the "glorious Union." The soldiers, too, left their barracks to do us homage. They were so very polite and kindhearted as to come out in full uniform, with shining bayonets, to see us well cared for.

Inasmuch as we had left all our good clothes at Vicksburg, and had for several weeks lived in the rough, and without any change of clothing, we were truly a hard-looking party. No doubt the loyal lookers on imagined we loved fight better than dress, and thereby, in their own minds, accounted for why we usually whipped the Yankee boys so when we had a fair shake.

After some fixing around, an escort was formed and we were conducted, not to "Camp Morton," as was first intended, but to "The Soldier’s Home," in the suburbs of the city. It was really the nicest and most agreeable soldier’s quarters I ever saw. It is a camp of instruction on rather a large scale, and the several rows of neat cottages, with broad spreading oaks all about, and the nice graveled walks and ornamented grounds make it truly like a home. There are several wells of pure, cold, limestone water near by, and the buildings being neatly white-washed, looked quite inviting. We, the "secesh" officers, 170 in number, took lodgings in the spacious dining hall, which was clean and by far the best quarters we had occupied since Uncle Sam undertook to care for us.

At four o’clock long rows of tables were set, and we partook of a delicious repast, prepared for us by the garrison cooks. We relished it the more because for some weeks we had been living sorter on the wing. In the evening I wrote to my mother, informing her of my good luck in finding myself alive, and telling her of my future prospects.

That night we roosted on the floor, and the guard was so accommodating as to stay on the outside of the building, but they kept strict vigils over us while we slumbered.

We rose with the next day’s sun, took a refreshing bath, and then a good warm breakfast. The difference between the temperature there and in our Southern home was quite perceivable. At an early hour curiosity seekers, those in search of old friends, newspaper correspondents and others, began flocking in to see us. By consent of the officer of the guard, but few were debarred the privilege of free intercourse. In one case a resident of the city found his brother in our midst; he did not seem to censure his course, but gave him money and clothing. A very interesting and affecting incident was the meeting of a young lady and her rebel brother. Some of our fellows found acquaintances who were renegades from the South, and oh! but they were bitter against us. Many visited us merely for the curiosity of finding out what we really thought about the affair. When we told them in unvarnished terms, they could not exactly see it in that light, but what was to be done about it?

The morning after our arrival a dirty little sheet, the Indianapolis Gazette, spoke of us in terms that some people would call left-handed compliments, but, as the little boy did upon one occasion, we considered the source. It said, among other things, that we rebel officers were most as intelligent as the generality of their privates, and strongly intimated that, if we behaved ourselves, we were nearly as good as the flat-nosed sons of Ethiopia who are at the bottom of all this muss.

The capital of Indiana is a large, well-built and flourishing city, and is one of the most pleasant, comfortable looking places I was ever in. It is a great railroad metropolis, at least a dozen roads centering at that point. The grand union depot from whence all the trains start is a magnificent affair. Trains are arriving and going at every hour of the day and night, and one unacquainted or unused to traveling would be perplexed about what train to get on to go in the desired direction. Considering how patriotically the State had responded to every call for troops, we were astonished to find so many Southern sympathizers, elegantly denominated "Butternuts" by the Abolition faction.

The stubborn resistance to the draft shows the latent spirit that has been suppressed in the hearts of the people, not only of that State, but the whole North. The Democracy of the North now see and feel that of which we were convinced more than two years ago, that the fanatical demagogues in their section would take away our liberties and destroy our institutions, even at the price of the Constitution, which the Democracy have tried to maintain in its purity. But it is now too late for them to retire from the unholy alliance. They can only use their powers of persuasion and entreaty that the war be carried on as they thought it was begun, alone for the safety and perpetuation of the Union and Constitution; an appeal to arms, not words, must now settle the contest.

At eight o’clock, P. M., June 4th, we bade farewell to Indiana’s capital, and on board a good passenger train on the Bellefontaine road we hied away for the lakes. A crowd were at the depot to see the last of the "Dixie lads." All night we ran on over a good, easy riding road, but could form very little idea of the towns or country along the route. We passed through Bellefontaine just as streaks of gray began to appear in the East, and at nine o’clock were at Tiffan, Ohio. Long rows of large, elegant storehouses, beautiful mansions, with tasteful surrounding embellishments, and towering, gilded steeples, were before us. The day before nine men had been arrested and sent to Johnson’s Island for burning a church in the neighborhood because Abolition doctrines were preached from its pulpit.

Though we passed through some splendid and flourishing lands in Ohio, there was not that fresh, inviting look about it as in Illinois and Indiana. Most of the soil has a red, sandy look, and seems as though it were worn out. In some localities timber is large and plentiful, but I noticed much scrub timber.

The farms are mostly in good repair and well stocked, and all about the farm houses I noticed many conveniences not to be met with in the South.

About midday we came in sight of Sandusky bay, and in a very little while were running over a trestle work some distance in the water, and when we looked out at the car window it seemed as if we had taken wings and were flying over the bay. In due time we checked up in the populous and thriving city of Sandusky. As we neared the bay we could see our future prison home in the distance. It had a picturesque and pleasing appearance, and the star-spangled banner floated majestically over all.

It could but bring curious thoughts and strange, indescribable feelings to think of going on that lone isle in the lake, to be shut up from the world for we knew not how long.

CHAPTER IV.

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PRISON HOME, LAKE ERIE,}
NEAR SANDUSKY, OHIO, July 26, 1863.}

‘Twas about two in the afternoon of June 5th that we marched to the dock and took passage on a nice little steamer, the "Bonnie Boat," that constantly plies between the city and Johnson’s Island, a distance of three miles. She glided like a swan through the pearly, placid water, and in twenty minutes we floated up against the island dock. But few of us had ever before been on a lake or seen a sail craft, of which dozens were now in sight, flitting about with the breeze, seeming to have no particular destination. Many of them were fishing smacks that rode at ease wherever the wind blew, trapping the finny tribe.

We disembarked, and, marching between two files of blue-jackets, were halted in front of Major Pierson’s quarters, where the ladies were called up, one by one, and politely advised to turn over their funds for safe keeping. Many of the gray-jacket gentry did not relish the idea, as they thought themselves quite old enough to take care of their own chink, besides having a slight presentiment that there might be a Yankee trick in it. I had prepared for the emergency by putting away $300 in Confederate scrip in my other pocket, not visible to the outer world. Like a man, I forked over forty odd dollars, and opened wide my purse to show them that I was acting honest, and not keeping any back.

Lieutenant Allen, of my company, had nearly $400, part his own, part belonging to members of our company, and the balance to Uncle Jeff, which, in the hurry of the moment, he had put in his day book, and aimed to secrete it in a pocket in his drawers, but he missed the hole, and when called up to "shell out," intending to give up some $20 he kept in his pocket book, the hidden treasure fell down his pants leg before the Yanks, and he picked it up and planked out all his cash.

Upon first sight, the island had quite a prepossessing appearance, being slightly sloped, having a nice sward of green grass, with here and there a stately shade tree. The cottages, offices and barracks were neat and clean, and, on the opposite side from where we landed, a beautiful forest made the whole look quite genial. The garrison consisted of "Hoffman’s Battalion," which had been on duty there since the first existence of the institution. They were all dressed in the full uniform authorized by army regulations, and formed quite a contrast to soldiers in active service. But few of our party had ever before seen such splendid uniforms, and some of them concluded that they surely were a stuck-up, aristocratic set of fellows. It seemed to them not in good taste for a soldier to have gloves on. Our uniform being so mottled, and so little cared for save as it gave comfort, the dissimilarity was so much more striking.

Our fellows have now, however, got over their curious notions about Federal garb, and don’t care how much they show off. We were forcibly impressed with the notion that fine dress and haughty demeanor don’t constitute the soldier, and, though in parti-colored and seedy attire, we felt fully able to cope with the same number of those fine soldiers, who had never heard a cannon except at a jubilee or celebration.

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