The illustration of this scene will be recognized by thousands of our soldier-boys who were occupiers of Virginia soil, upon the banks of the Elkwater, for some months during the summer and fall of 1861. Old Stonnicker's was a name familiar as a household word, and many were the pranks played upon the poor old man. Ignorant, beyond description, he yet had twice been a "justice" of the peace, and, as he said, "sot on the bench."
Old Stonnicker drummed out of camp.
The scene illustrated is where Stonnicker was arrested by a "special order" from the 6th Ohio, and tried by an impromptu court-martial, for selling liquor to soldiers. The mock-trial took place amid the most grotesque queries and absurd improvised telegraph dispatches—the hand-writing of the telegraphic dispatches being sworn to as that of the individuals from whom they were just received, the oath being, "As they solemnly hoped for the success of the Southern Confederacy." The poor wretch had actually been detected in selling, contrary to express orders, liquor to soldiers. He employed counsel, but, notwithstanding all they could do, he was sentenced, by Major Christopher, to die. He received his sentence with moanings and anguish; he was too frightened to notice the smiles or laughter of the crowd. He got on his knees and begged for mercy, and, after an hour of suspense, the Court relented, and commuted the sentence to being drummed out of camp. It is at this juncture the artist has seized the occasion to illustrate the scene.
Stonnicker is a by-word to all the boys of Elkwater notoriety to this day, and was, at one time, "a password" at Louisville.
Poor Stonnicker is dead. In trying, last fall, to ford that mad torrent, Elkwater, during a storm, he was swept from his horse and drowned.
Andy Hall, Ned Shoemaker, Doctor Ames, and other notables of the "times that tried men's soles," were the recipients of the hospitality of another of the family of Stonnickers, who lived up a "ravine" about a mile nearer Huttonsville. Doctor Ames had musk upon his handkerchief, which the young lady, (?) Miss Delilah Stonnicker, noticing, as she waited upon the Doctor at the supper-table, exclaimed: "'Lor', Doctor, how your hankercher stinks!"
"Does it?" said the Doctor, coloring up to his very eyes, roars of laughter proceeding from all present.
"Yaas; it stinks just like a skunk."