Rienzi. The 3rd Section, Lieutenant Hood, went out in
front and the first fell back to its old grounds. Foraging party brought in two
loads of corn, three neat cattle, one sheep, twelve geese, seven hens, two or
three bushels of sweet potatoes.
SOURCE: Jenkin Lloyd
Jones, An Artilleryman's Diary, p. 5
After some trouble
we managed to get to bed last night about eleven o'clock; but for a long time
after that the mules kept us awake; perhaps they were hungry also. The weather
was clear and not cold, so we got a little rest. At six o'clock this morning we
were ordered on, after a very light breakfast, excepting for a few who may have
foraged. There were a few chickens and a little applejack about our mess.
To-day has been the hardest of any day of the tramp, and there has been more
straggling. The company organization was in the line, but thinned out terribly.
We had no noon-rest; but at two o'clock we filed from the road to a field, came
to the front, and received a good scolding. Our regiment looked as if it had
been through two Bull Runs; only about 150 left, and the rest not
"accounted for." In fact there were very few left of those who should
do the accounting. The colonel stormed a little, but that did not bring up the
men; so, as he was probably as hungry, if not as tired, as we were, he let us
go to eating, which was a decided farce. Our haversacks were as flat as our
stomachs. We found a few grains of coffee and tobacco-crumbs in the bottom of
our bags, and succeeded in digging a few sweet potatoes, which we ate raw. We
were told they were very fullsome. We waited here two hours or so for the
stragglers, who finally came along. They had been having a fine time, plenty of
room to walk, and two hours more to do it in than we had; and, more than that,
they were in the majority, so nothing could be done but "Right shoulder
shift" and put the best foot forward. About sundown we saw, in crossing a
bridge, a wagon-load of hard-tack bottom side up in the creek. Some of the boys
sampled the bread, but it was not fit to eat. Shortly after a signboard indicated
fourteen miles to New Berne. That was encouraging! The walking was fearful, the
roads full of water, in some places waist deep, and covered with a skimming of
ice. At last we met a wagon loaded with bread, and after much talk with the
driver we got what we wanted. Next we met a man who said it was only twelve
miles to New Berne. They either have long miles or else some one made a
mistake; we seemingly had been walking two hours or more from the fourteenth
mile post, and now it was twelve miles. We came to the conclusion not to ask
any more questions, but "go it blind.”
We at last reached
the picket-post, seven miles out, and halted to rest and allow the artillery to
go through. Here Col. Lee told us we were at liberty to stay out and come into
camp Sunday; but most of "E" thought of the letters and the supper we
would probably get, and concluded to stand by the flag. After a rest we started
again, and at last began to close up and halt often, so we knew we were coming
to some place or other.
The writer has no
very distinct idea of those last seven miles, excepting that he was trying to
walk, smoke, and go to sleep at the same time, and could only succeed in
swearing rather faintly, and in a stupid sort of manner, at everything and
every one. It was dark and foggy, but finally we saw what appeared to be the
headlight of a locomotive a long way off. Then the fort loomed up, and we were
passing under an arch or bridge, and in a few minutes we reached
"E's" barrack, and our troubles were all forgotten. Now we were wide
awake; gave three hearty cheers for every one; had all the baked beans and
coffee we could stagger under; and then the captain's "Attention for
letters" brought us to our feet. Some had as many as a dozen. They had to
be read at once, and, notwithstanding our fatigue and the lateness of the hour,
read they were.
SOURCE: John Jasper
Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass.
Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 29-30
The Ninth and Fourth Ohio, Fifteenth Indiana, and one company of cavalry, started up the mountain between seven and eight o'clock. The Colonel being unwell, I followed with the Third. Awful rumors were afloat of fortifications and rebels at the top; but we found no fortifications, and as for the rebels, they were scampering for Staunton as fast as their legs could carry them.
This mountain scenery is magnificent. As we climbed the Cheat the views were the grandest I ever looked upon. Nests of hills, appearing like eggs of the mountain; ravines so dark that one could not guess their depth; openings, the ends of which seemed lost in a blue mist; broken-backed mountains, long mountains, round mountains, mountains sloping gently to the summit; others so steep a squirrel could hardly climb them; fatherly mountains, with their children clustered about them, clothed in birch, pine, and cedar; mountain streams, sparkling now in the sunlight, then dashing down into apparently fathomless abysses.
It was a beautiful day, and the march was delightful. The road is crooked beyond description, but very solid and smooth.
The farmer on whose premises we are encamped has returned from the woods. He has discovered that we are not so bad as we were reported. Most of the negroes have been left at home. Many were in camp to-day with corn-bread, pies, and cakes to sell. Fox, my servant, went out this afternoon and bought a basket of bread. He brought in two chickens also, which he said were presented to him. I suspect Fox does not always tell the truth.
SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 28-9
We started early
this morning by the northerly road; we "fell in "regularly enough,
but it was not long before we took the "route step," taking the whole
road. A mile or two out we halted and loaded up. Evidently the officers thought
there would be plenty of game. We saw or heard little or nothing for about six
miles, when we passed a camp-fire, and were told the advance had come across an
outpost and killed a man. We still kept up a steady tramp, and about noon the
light marching order became heavy again, and whatever useless articles we had
on hand were thrown aside. At noon, we halted to feed in a field near a
planter's house; the family were all on the piazza. For dinner we had potatoes,
chickens, honey, applejack, and persimmons; the last of which are good if eaten
with care, but, if a little green, beware! We stayed here about an hour, then
packed up and started again, followed no doubt by the blessings of that whole
family.
RAWLE'S MILL.
About six o'clock
(the time probably when our friends at home were writing to us) we heard the
artillery, and, coming to a halt, waited anxiously for the next move. To us it
soon came. Companies H, Capt. Smith, and C, Capt. Lombard, were ordered
forward, "E" being next in line. For a while we heard nothing of
them; but when they were about half-way across the stream the rebels fired into
their ranks. They, however, succeeded in crossing, and returned the rebels'
fire; but Gen. Foster thought it better to shell them out, so Companies H and C
were ordered back; "H" having Depeyster, Jacobs, and Parker wounded;
and Co. C, Charles Rollins killed; Sergt. Pond and W. A. Smallidge wounded.
Lieut. Briggs was stunned by a shell.
After the return of these
companies, Belger's Battery shelled across the stream for some time, trying to
dislodge the enemy. Our company and "I" were sent forward in the same
track of "H" and "C," Company I being held in reserve. We
had the fight all to ourselves. It was quite a distance to the water, and an illimitable
one before we arrived on the other side. It was very nearly waist-deep and very
cold. We had gone about over, when they fired, but the shot went over our
heads: we were nearer than they thought. After coming out and shaking
ourselves, Capt. Richardson deployed the company as skirmishers, and we
commenced to feel our way up the slope. Before we were well at it we received
another volley, which sadly disarranged the ideas of several of us, some of the
boys firing back at their flash; but probably very many of our first volley
went nearer the moon than the rebels; and then we jumped for cover. Some found
the grape-vines not conducive to an upright position. We got straightened out
at last, and gradually worked our way forward; the writer's position being in
the gutter (or where the gutter ought to have been) on the left of the road;
soon receiving another volley which we answered in good shape, hoping we did
better execution than they had done. We could hear those on the right of the
road, but could see nothing, and could only fire on the flash of the rebels.
After five or six volleys from our side, and as many from the rebels, we were
ordered back, recrossed the ford, and found we had met with loss. Charles Morse
was shot through the head. His death must have been instantaneous, as the ball
went in very near the temple and came out the opposite side. A detail buried
him among the pines, very nearly opposite the surgeon's head-quarters. Charles
H. Roberts was quite severely wounded in the left shoulder. There were some
narrow escapes, and, among the minor casualties, E. V. Moore was struck by a
ball in the heel of his boot; he was tumbled over; immediately picked up by the
stretcher-bearers and carried to the rear, but would not stay there, and soon
found his way to the front again.
The writer, not
wishing to be wounded, persistently held his gun ready to ward off all shot,
consequently one of the numerous well-aimed shots struck the gun instead of his
leg, fracturing the rifle badly; the bullet, after going through the stock of
the gun, entered his pantaloons, scraping a little skin from his leg, and
finally found its way to his boot.
The surgeon would
not report him as wounded or missing, so he had to report back to his company;
found his blanket and tried to turn in, but it was no use: the company had more
work on hand.
The part of the
company who went into the woods on the right of the road, had a clear passage
up the hill, as far as the walking was concerned, but they met their share of
fighting, happily coming back with no loss. Parsons, Tucker, and Pierce
succeeded in taking three prisoners, who were sent to the rear. We were
detailed as baggage guard, which duty we did bravely!! Every time the line
halted we would lie down, and were asleep as soon as we struck the mud!!
Finally we made a grand start, forded the stream again, and, after being
frightened to death by a stampede of horses up the road, we found a cornfield,
and, after forming line several times for practice with the rest of the
regiment, spread ourselves on the ground and hugged each other and our wet
rubber blankets to get warm.
SOURCE: John Jasper
Wyeth, Leaves from a Diary Written While Serving in Co. E, 44 Mass.
Dep’t of North Carolina from September 1862 to June 1863, p. 17-8
Left camp at
Lumpkins Mills at six o'clock this morning, the 72d in the advance. General
Grant passed us while we were at a halt. I was sitting in a fence corner
keeping myself warm with a splendid fire of fence rails. Nell Towner was with
the escort; it did me good to see him. Encamped for the night on a cotton
plantation. Fence rails, straw, chickens, etc., disappeared as suddenly as if
they had been swept off by a hurricane. The men believe in making themselves
comfortable. Skirmishing ahead, our forces cross the Tallahatchie river, having
to take the artillery apart to get it across on a small flat boat that was
found.
SOURCE: Joseph
Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph
Stockton, p. 5
Left the picket line again, returned to Camp Jackson, started for Darnestown by six o'clock, and arrived there by eight o'clock P. M. Thus ended our stay at Seneca Mills, the most pleasant period of our three years service. Vegetables and fruit, chickens and pigs, were plenty, for we owned the whole plantation of that old rebel Peters, who was sent to Fort Lafayette for treason. The Thirty-fourth New York, having the picket line on the river, always proved good companions. The view of the surrounding country is really imposing, including Sugar Loaf Mountain, the natural observatory of the signal corps. Some remarkable items must not be forgotten—for instance, novel songs of "The Nice Legs;" "Jimmy Nutt's Measuring the Guard Time by the Moon;" "Griffin's Apple Sauce," and "Doughnuts for Horses."
SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 22
Sunday morning the
regiment was ordered out on grand guard. Went up on hill some two miles from
camp—heavy firing heard in the distance—McArthur's division in the advance and
the rebels are falling back before him. As I sat on a log this morning about
church time I thought of many dear friends wending their way to church and how
the church bells were ringing at home, speaking of nothing but peace, while, in
dear old St. James, many are listening to the glorious anthems and the litany
of the church. I wondered to myself if any there give their thoughts to the
absent ones who loved their country better than all the pleasure and comforts
of home and are willing to die for it. How different here; everything speaks of
war and desolation—foraging wagon trains constantly coming in, bringing cattle,
pigs, chickens, turkeys, everything they can lay their hands on. On the other
side of the creek are regiments marching forward, their colors flying, bands
playing, men chewing, while in the distance is the sound of McArthur's guns or
rebel ones returning their fire. I would not be in Chicago if I could.
SOURCE: Joseph
Stockton, War Diary (1862-5) of Brevet Brigadier General Joseph
Stockton, p. 5
Maryland Heights, Va., September 21st, 1862.
Toward evening of
the 13th we left Frederic City and marched out on the National Turnpike toward
South Mountain, and halted for supper and a few hours rest near Middleton. It
was nearly midnight. We had made a rapid march of several miles, and were
tired, and hungry as wolves. Hardly had we stacked arms when Lieutenant Rath
inquired: "Where's John Conley?" John could not be found; he was
already off on an expedition of his own. "Well, then," said Rath,
"send me the next best thief; I want a chicken for my supper."
Our foragers soon
returned; the Lieutenant got his chicken, and we privates were fairly well
supplied with the products of the country. It strikes me as a little strange,
the facility with which a soldier learns to steal his grub. It must be the
effect of heredity. Perhaps, in the dim past, when our ancestors went on
"all fours," and roamed the forests in search of food; possibly at a
more recent date, but before a name was given to the deed; they formed the
habit of taking what they wanted wherever it could be found, provided they had
the physical power, or mental cunning, to accomplish it, and this habit, thus
formed, became instinct, and was transmitted to their descendants. At daylight
we were on the move, headed for South Mountain. We had an inkling—how obtained
I do not know; mental telepathy, perhaps, that occult, mysterious power that
enables us to divine the most secret thoughts of men-that a mass meeting was to
be held on that eminence to discuss the pros and cons of secession, and that
we, the Seventeenth, had received a pressing invitation to be present. The Pike
was in fine condition. Our men stepped off briskly, with long, swinging strides
that carried them rapidly over the ground. We marched in four ranks, by
companies, and were led by our gallant Colonel Withington. Company G was
seventh from the front, which gave me a view of over half the regiment. And it
was good to look upon. Only two weeks from home, our uniforms were untarnished.
Dress coats buttoned to the chin; upon our heads a high-crowned hat with a
feather stuck jauntily on one side. White gloves in our pockets; a wonder we
did not put them on, so little know we of the etiquette of war.
As we neared the
mountain, about nine o'clock in the morning, I scanned its rugged sides for
indications of the presence of our friends, the enemy, and, as I looked, I saw
a puff of smoke, and on the instant a shell sped howling above our heads,
bursting some half a mile beyond.
Every man of us
"bowed his acknowledgments;" then, as by one impulse, every spine
became rigid; every head was tossed in air; as if we would say: "My
Southern friend, we did the polite thing that time. No more concessions will
you get from us and—may God have mercy on your souls." Of our exploits on South
Mountain I will not write. They will be woven into history and will be within
the reach of all. About thirty of our brave boys were killed, and over one
hundred wounded. Captain Goldsmith was wounded in the shoulder and Lieutenant
Somers in the side. A number of Company G boys were wounded, but none were
killed in this battle.
Eli Sears, the best,
the most universally beloved of the regiment, is dead. He died the second day
after the battle. A rifle ball, early in the engagement, struck him in the left
breast and passed entirely through him. When I saw him he was so low he could
only speak in whispers. He gave me his hand, with a pleasant smile, and told me
he had but a few more hours to live. Bitterly do I mourn his loss. So kind, so
thoughtful, always preferring another to himself. He died as heroes die, as
calm and peaceful as an infant on its mother's breast. Albert Allen, Carmi
Boice and Charlie Goodall were in the thickest of the fight and escaped unhurt.
The Seventeenth has
been baptised in blood and christened "Stonewall." The battle of
Antietam was fought on Wednesday, September 17th, three days after South
Mountain. The Seventeenth did not lose so many in killed—eighteen or twenty, I
think, although the list is not yet made out—and eighty or ninety wounded.
Company G lost three killed, among whom was Anson Darling. We crossed the
Antietam River about 1 p. m., and about three o'clock charged up the heights,
which we carried, and advanced to near Sharpsburg. Here, our ammunition giving
out, we fell back behind the hill and quietly sat down ’mid bursting shells and
hurtling balls until relieved. As we sat waiting, a spent ball—a six-pounder—struck
a tree in front of us. Not having sufficient momentum to penetrate, it dropped
back upon the toe of my comrade on my left. With a fierce oath he sprang to his
feet and shouted, "Who the h--l? Oh!"
That night, while on
picket, when all my comrades were wrapped in slumber, and silence reigned
where, a few hours before, the tumult of battle raged, my willing thought
turned to my Northern home. The most vivid pictures arose before me—so real—could
they be imagination? And as I gazed upon these fancied visions and pressed them
to my soul as a living reality, I asked myself the question, "Can this be
homesickness?" The answer came, quick and decisive: No; I have never seen
the time—even for one short moment—that I could say to myself, “If I had not
enlisted, I would not." On the contrary, if, after the little experience I
have had, and the little knowledge I have gained, I had not enlisted, I would
do so within the hour.
SOURCE: David Lane, A
Soldier's Diary: The Story of a
Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 10-13
Quiet. Great slaughter amongst turkeys and chickens!
SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 18
Last night we tied up at the mouth of Red river, and this morning found our boat aground; but, after several hours' work, got her safely off and proceeded a few miles up stream, when we tied up again to take on wood and allow the men to cook. In a short time, the crew had stolen all the chickens in the neighborhood. The New Orleans Rats, of which this command is mainly composed, can beat the world stealing. [What say you, Rats?] I saw several coming in with honey and the bees swarming around it. During our memorable "big drunk" mentioned on a previous page, some one, more drunk than economical, threw away his shoes, and, on waking the next morning and finding himself minus this important article of dress, had to go bare-foot or steal from his neighbor. The latter plan suited his inclination, and the consequence was, a man in a different company was found to be shoeless and the thief with a tolerable pair of boots on. So it goes one man is bare-foot all the time, but a different man every day.
SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 66
Six companies of the Seventh, and six companies of the Fiftieth Illinois Infantry, under the command of Colonel Rowett, leave Rome on a scout. We march about nine miles out on the Kingston road and go into camp for the night. Hogs, chickens, roasting-ears and fruit abound in abundance. We live high to-night. After all is quiet in camp, scouts are sent out to see if they cannot discover something hostile said to be threatening these parts.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 249
We again receive
marching orders; Forrest said to be crossing the Tennessee at Eastport. We are
ordered to reconnoiter. Oh! how sleepy the soldiers become; some fall off of
their mules while riding along the road. About two o'clock, A. M., we come to a
halt at Lawrenceburg, and feed and lay down to sleep, but very little do we
obtain, for at day-light the bugle blows. The command is divided. Companies H
and F, commanded by Captain Ring, proceed to Waynesboro; nothing hostile here.
The report that Forrest was crossing the Tennessee has proved to have been only an
idle rumor. We go into camp for the night. We feast to-night upon chickens, ham
and honey. A scout
is sent to Clifton, Tennessee river, this evening, to see and learn what he can
about the movements of Forrest.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib
Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry,
p. 228-9
Evening.
About six, the
Burnside came down the river with horses, hogs, chickens and prisoners. They
took Col. Bryant, just as he returned to his plantation after running his
negroes into the back country. They report great quantities of cotton and
cattle up the river, so I hope we really are to have fresh beef again.
It is nothing like
as damp and unwholesome here as in South Carolina. The same amount of exposure
there that our men have had here, would have given the hospital twenty or
thirty cases of pleurisy and pneumonia, while today, we have but a single case
of acute inflammation. There is coughing enough to keep back several rebel
regiments. I see no reason, however, why the officers should not get
intermittent fever from this handsome river, by and by. It looks as if
midsummer might load it with miasma and alligators. . . .
I am gradually
confiscating furniture for my spacious chamber in the best house of a beautiful
town, as if it were my final residence. I enjoy the long cedar closet that
opens out of my room. The fragrance is so sweet I cannot understand why moths
object to it. having a perfect bath room, without any water in it and costly gas
fixtures without any gas! The war has greatly deranged the machinery of this
town. Almost everywhere, except in this house, I have found the lead pipes cut
by the rebels and used, I suppose, for bullets. When Colonel Sanderson left
here he placed his house in charge of a Union man, saying that it would
naturally be the headquarters of any Union commander. Hence the more perfect
preservation of the property.
SOURCE: Proceedings
of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June,
1910: February 1910. p. 375-6
Early this morning we are on the road leading towards Pulaski, Tennessee. When within twelve miles of Pulaski we go into camp; we have honey, chickens and hams in abundance to-night. The boys are cheerful.
Again rumors are verified. Pursuant to order, the regiment moves from Pulaski this morning with three days' rations. It is said we are bound for Corinth, Mississippi, to look after the camp and garrison equipage belonging to the Second Division. After travelling thirty miles, we go into camp at Lexington, Alabama. As usual the regiment forages, and chickens still continue to fall victims to the Seventh. We have a good supper to-night; such as soldiers enjoy.
Bright and dry.
The demonstration of
the enemy yesterday, on both sides of the river, was merely reconnoissances.
Our pickets were driven in, but were soon re-established in their former
positions.
The Secretary of War
is now reaping plaudits from his friends, who are permitted to bring flour
enough from the Valley to subsist their families twelve months. The poor men in
the army (the rich are not in it) can get nothing for their families, and there
is a prospect of their starving.
Gen. Hood is a
prophet. I saw a letter from him, to-day, to the President, opposing Gen.
Morgan's last raid into Kentucky: predicting that if he returned at all, it
would be with a demoralized handful of men—which turned out to be the case. He
said if Morgan had been with Gen. Jones in the Valley, we might not have been
compelled to confess a defeat, and lament the loss of a fine officer.
They do not take
Confederate notes in the Valley, but sell flour for $8 per barrel in gold,
which is equal to $200 in paper; and it costs nearly $100 to bring it here.
Chickens are selling in market for $7 each, paper, or 37½ cents, specie.
The regiment is to-day divided into detachments and ordered to move on different roads on both flanks of the army. About noon the detachment which we accompany arrives at Baily Springs, one of chivalry's fashionable resorts. But we find none of her devotees pacing the building's dim corridors. War's stern voice has called them away. The springs are beautiful, sparkling with nature's purest liquid-dashing in playful sprays from granite rock. The weary soldiers love so well to linger here-love to kneel at the healing fountain. After feeding we move on our way. Before entering the main road three men from the detachment stop to do some foraging, but the chickens are difficult to capture, making strenuous efforts when pursued by a yankee. The lady of the house comes to the door and smiling sweetly says: “Soldiers, there's my little dog, he can catch them for you." "Thank you, madam, we don't want your chickens,” replied Sergeant Hackney, of Company H, and the soldiers make their exit. How well did that woman know where man was weak. The column is now moving on the old “military road.” The main body of the Seventh is now on the left flank. Striking out through the woods and brush we come up with the regiment about 4 P. M. We go into camp at 8 P. M.
The advance is now passing our regiment. It falls to our lot to be in the rear to-day. Soon we are all in the saddle and on the road. At noon we halt on one of Tennessee's large plantations to feed and eat our dinners. The corn pens are now mounted, the garden fence is scaled, the smoke-house entered; the hams are going, the turkeys are running and chickens squalling. Passing through the yard, a fair one approaches us and enquires for the chief commander. Of course we didn't know, and no one could be found who did; but when she discovered the corn pen rapidly diminishing for the benefit of Rowett's two thousand mules, that the boys in blue were stern and determined, and that her artful persuasion proved of no avail, she seemed to resign calmly to the "fates," and commenced to talk quietly to the soldiers. She said she loved the South, her heart was with it in its struggle; that she had two brothers who were officers in the Confederate army, and that she was glad of it. But she could not bear to be called a rebel. Says she: “Call me not a rebel, but a confederate.” After dinner we proceed on our way, cross the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, and camp on the road leading to Lexington.
After traveling briskly all morning we arrive at Trenton on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad. We notice that here too war's scourge has been felt. We press on through and take the road leading to Jackson; about three miles from Jackson we pass Hatch's command. We halt at Gibson, feed, and eat our dinner; we will remain here all day. Hatch is now moving on towards Humboldt. To-day the regiment forages extensively; horses and mules are eagerly sought after by the Seventh, and the consequence is that the regiment is becoming well mounted. Companies and squads are being sent out all day. It is impossible for us to narrate the experience of all these scouting parties, as we could only accompany one. We follow a detail of ten men this evening, traveling about six miles, and succeed in capturing two fine mules; one from a negro who was, by the direction of his master, making his way to the brush. Cuffee, “smiling approvingly," says “De massa Yankee who ride dat mule will be well fixed.” It is now near sun-down and we are six miles from camp; but some forage, chickens, &c., we must have. Stopping at a plantation, we make a draw and get a sack full of pullets, a few hams, &c. It is now dark and we must hasten; but going a short distance a sable friend informs us where we can get another mule. Two men are sent to obtain the mule, and the remainder push on towards camp. We are now on a strange road; the night is dark, but on we go, and after traveling about four miles through the dense woods, we strike the Jackson road at Gibson. “Halt! who comes ere?” breaks upon our ears. “Who challenges?” we reply. "Be it known that we are the invincibles, representatives from the Kansas Jayhawkers. Give us your character?” “We are raiders from Rowett's command.” “Roddy's command!” Click, click in quick succession the triggers go. “D--n you, not Roddy's, but Rowett's command," cried one of our men. “All right, brother crampers, pass on.” We soon arrive in camp. The boys now make preparations to skin some chickens; all anticipate a good supper, but when we come to look for the pullets they are not to be found. The truth soon flashes upon us that R. J. ——became frightened in the dense woods and threw them away. Dear reader, imagine our disappointment. It is useless to say that R. J. —— didn't rest much that night.
Nothing to eat yet.
Wortheim, W. Eagle and myself went out foraging, to buy something to eat. We
got to one house and there was no one at home, but in the yard there were two
chickens, which we captured, for we were afraid they would bite us.
We went to the next
house and ate our breakfast. One of the ladies asked us where we got those
chickens. I told her that we bought them at the house before we got there. She
told us she lived there and that there was nobody at home. I then told her the
truth, paid her for them and left. The next house we got to we bought a ham, a
peck of meal, a peck of sweet potatoes and some turnips. We took dinner in this
house. We then returned to camp. We had a good reception from our mess, as they
had still nothing to eat.
