During the evening the day after we reached Mt. Sterling, the cavalry pickets were driven in by a guerrilla band, but they got no farther than our picket post. There they came to a very sudden stop. The next day we changed camp, going to a large pasture on high ground finely drained and with a grove of beautiful trees in it, about a mile from town.
The reason for the cold reception we received from the people of Mt. Sterling on our arrival there, was because we were from the black abolition state of Massachusetts. They preferred, we were told, to remain unguarded rather than be guarded by Massachusetts men. However, it was our fortune to see a most remarkable change in the sentiment of the people toward us in a very short time. Colonel Clark, the commander of the regiment, was an Amherst professor, a man of intellect and culture, and a man of an exceptionally fine presence. He was a fine example of New England culture and must have made a superior impression on the leading men of the town and county. As soon as we reached there a strong guard was put on the court house, the jail and every other public building and piece of public property that required guarding. Not a soldier was allowed in the village excepting the guards on duty; no one was allowed to touch anything he did not buy and pay for in the regular way. Raiding the town by guerrillas was stopped, perfect order was maintained. And as a result on the 17th we were invited, by the civil authorities, to move down into the village and camp in the beautiful grounds in front of the court house; and there we remained until early in July.
This period of three months was the most delightful period we had during the war. It was a veritable campaign of peace. Confidence returned to the people of Mt. Sterling, the court held its regular sessions, a thing that had not been done since the war broke out. We were paid off; money was spent freely and Mt. Sterling put on her holiday attire. After we moved down into the court house grounds there was no guard kept around the camp, the boys were allowed to go and come as they pleased so long as they behaved themselves and were present at roll-call. In a short time they became acquainted with the people of the village and in the country around. They used to wander off into the country for miles, call at the farmers’ houses, and buy things to eat. In this way they became acquainted in families, and those acquaintances in many instances ripened into friendships. A Company E man and I went off into the country one day some three or four miles. We came to a medium-sized, pleasantly situated house, with a lot of hens in the yard. We thought this our opportunity to get some eggs, which was our errand, and walked up to the door and knocked. We were invited in. As we were buying our eggs two young ladies appeared. We did not feel like rushing away then, although the girls were a little slighting in their answers to questions and in speaking of the Confederates referred to them as “our men.” In the course of the conversation it was disclosed that they had relations in the Confederate army. However, the girls were young and attractive and we did not hurry. There was a piano in the room and my friend suggested that one of them favor us with a selection. The younger one, a girl about twenty, sat down and played “Dixie” and “My Maryland.” As she finished she swung around on her chair and glanced at each of us in a way that said, what do you think of that. We complimented her and asked her to play the “Star Spangled Banner,” and “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” which she did as a favor. My friend then asked her to play the Marsellaise. She did not recognize it. Would he hum it?—she might remember it. He hummed it, but it was evident she did not know it. Finally, she said in a rather saucy way, “Why don’t you play it yourself?” He said he would if it was agreeable. A plainly dressed private soldier sat down to the piano but from that moment the instrument seemed inspired. He played the “Marsellaise,” “The Watch on the Rhine;” then he played a number of selections of dance music from Strauss and other things. If he stopped they would say, “Oh don’t stop, play something else.” For nearly an hour he played ahead—those people and I as well were charmed; it was interesting to see those girls glance at each other and at their mother at times when the music was especially interesting. When finally he did stop, the saucy distant airs of the girls were gone, they had become our friends. We were then less disposed than before to leave, and when we did go it was with the understanding that we would come again and in future buy all our hens’ eggs from them.
We did no drilling while there. Our principal duties were picketing the roads leading into the town from the south, east and west, keeping the brass plates on our accoutrements and our shoes, well polished. Reports of guerrillas being in adjoining towns reached us from time to time, but as those men never really wanted to fight, but only to steal, they never approached very near Mt. Sterling.
In talking with one of the Union men of the village one day about the people who were in sympathy with the South he said, “Zeek Jones over there was until lately one of the biggest Rebels in the blue grass region; he preached it and he sung it until the Rebel cavalry came along and bought out all his horned cattle, horses, potatoes and general truck and paid him in Confederate money; then he sung a new tune—he’s been cursing them ever since. He sits up nights to swear about them. Nothing like that to bring a man around, stranger,” and the old man haw-hawed right heartily.
About a mile from the village on one of the roads leading from it, a picket post had pitched its tent near what appeared to be some deserted buildings. At night there issued from the house the most delightful music. The unknown singer had a contralto voice, with all the richness of tone of the most highly trained prima donna. For three successive evenings there poured forth from the house a concert the like of which those soldiers had never heard. On the third night one of the boys could endure it no longer, his curiosity had got the best of him. He approached the building, climbed over the garden wall, passed around the house, and, lo, there was an open window. He stole up to it and peeped in. The room was full of music. For a moment he was lost in the splendor of the tones, when lo, upon the kitchen table sat a colored girl singing as if her heart would burst. As she sang she scoured her dishes. She saw him! He dropped and slunk away. “Go way dar you soger man, or I’ll let fly de frying pan at you head. You mustn’t stan dar peeking at dis yer chile.” The romantic vision was dispelled. The soldier stole back to his companions, but that entrancing music was never heard to issue from that house again.
Once we marched to Paris and once to Sharpsburg to attack guerrillas, but in each instance when we reached the place the guerrillas had disappeared.
Twice we were ordered away, but each time the people sent to headquarters extensively signed petitions praying that we might remain there a little longer. And stay we did until the corps was nearly ready to march into Tennessee, and the capture of the hearts of two Kentucky belles of the blue grass region, by men of the 21st were among the results of our campaign in Kentucky.
July 6. With sincere regret we said goodbye to our many friends at Mt. Sterling and marched to Lexington. The farmers of the vicinity showed the sincerity of their regard for us by turning out with their teams and carrying our knapsacks the whole thirty-three miles. It was a sweltering hot day, and in our untrained condition it was all we could stand. As we reached Lexington we found the streets filled with farmers and their stock, they having come to town to escape from a guerrilla band that was reported to be in the vicinity. But we were there in time and the guerrillas did not attempt to enter the town. We went into camp in a large field near Fort Clay. The 16th we changed camp, going to a beautiful grove near the Lexington cemetery. Here we remained until we started for Tennessee.