Miss Mollie Jordan is a peculiar specimen of ye Southern maiden. I heard a good story illustrative of her rebellious nature some time ago:
Our troops were then stationed at Concord Church, and, in their peregrinations for fodder, came out this way, and, among other things, took off several contrabands belonging to Miss Mollie. Some time afterward she rode into camp and inquired for Colonel Vandeveer, and riding right up to him, she said, "How do, Colonel?" The Colonel tipped his hat, a la militaire, in token of recognition. "Colonel, you've been out our way and stole all my niggers, and I've just ridden into camp to see if you would be magnanimous enough to lend me my blacksmith to shoe this horse?"
The Colonel assisted her in alighting; had her boy hunted up, and the horse shod.
Dinner being ready, the lady was invited to partake of the repast; and, as she noticed a chicken upon the table almost as large as a turkey, she looked across at the Colonel, and then at the good-looking Major Boynton, and inquired whom she was dining with.
"O, with the Major, Miss. Why did you ask?" said the Colonel.
"I merely wished to know who stole my chickens; for those were particular pets of mine, and the only ones of that breed in the country."
The reader can imagine the laugh that took place at the Major's expense. As a matter of course, neither the Major nor the Colonel knew any thing as to where the servant-man had bought the fowls.
The Tennessee cavalry were out again yesterday, with Colonel Brownlow, and touched up the Alabamians. They brought in six prisoners. The rebels massed their men and undertook to charge us, but our Tennessee boys stood their ground, and the rebels backed out. They outnumbered us three to one; but they were not aware of that, or perhaps they would have given us fits. Now Brownlow is a daring, dashing fellow, and, in fact, all the officers and men seem made of the same material.
I suppose you will begin to think I've got cavalry on the brain, I talk so much of those boys; but they, at present, are the only ones out this way doing the fighting. When this bully division of infantry does go in, you can depend upon it somebody will get hurt.
All the regiments are quartered in elegant little pup-tents, as they call them. These tents are handsomely sheltered with evergreens and various bushes, presenting a picturesque appearance. The Lancaster, Chillicothe, and Cincinnati boys are vieing with each other as to who shall have the neatest camp.