"GENERAL BUNKER."

FOUR YEARS
A SCOUT AND SPY.

"GENERAL BUNKER,"

ONE OF LIEUT. GENERAL GRANT'S MOST DARING AND SUCCESSFUL SCOUTS.

BEING A NARRATIVE OF THE THRILLING ADVENTURES, NARROW ESCAPES,
NOBLE DARING, AND AMUSING INCIDENTS IN THE EXPERIENCE
OF CORPORAL RUGGLES DURING FOUR YEARS' SERVICE
AS A SCOUT AND SPY FOR THE FEDERAL ARMY;
EMBRACING HIS SERVICES FOR
TWELVE OF THE MOST DISTINGUISHED GENERALS IN THE U. S. ARMY.

By E. C. DOWNS,

MAJOR OF THE TWENTIETH OHIO VETERAN VOLUNTEER INFANTRY.

Illustrated.

ZANESVILLE, OHIO:
PUBLISHED BY HUGH DUNNE,

North Fourth Street, adjoining Court House.
1866.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by
E. C. DOWNS,
In the Clerk's Office of the United States District Court, for the
Southern District of Ohio.

STEREOTYPED AT THE
FRANKLIN TYPE FOUNDRY,
CINCINNATI, O.

TO
Lieutenant-General U. S. Grant,
Whose undaunted energy, heroic valor, superior generalship,
and devotion to his country,
have proved him
"THE RIGHT MAN IN THE RIGHT PLACE,"
And won for him
A WORLD-WIDE FAME;
And to the gallant Officers and Soldiers
who have nobly assisted in sustaining our glorious nationality
by crushing the great rebellion,
THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

It was with much difficulty that I was induced to give to the public a narrative of my experience as a scout and spy. It was the intense interest with which the people have listened to my narratives, whenever I have related them, and their earnest entreaties to have them published, that have prevailed upon me to do so.

I entered the army from purely patriotic motives. I had no vain ambition to gratify, but simply a desire to sustain and perpetuate the noble institutions that had been purchased by the blood of our fathers. I valued the cause of liberty as well worth all the sacrifice that it might cost to save it. I saw at once that the conflict was to be one involving great principles, and that in the end Truth and Justice must prevail.

The part that I have borne in putting down the great rebellion is the one that naturally fell to me by the force of circumstances, and entirely unsolicited. My relation in the affairs of life seems to have been such as to have just adapted me to that part that fell to my lot to act.

I have, without doubt, been indiscreet at times. Who has not? But the reader must remember that he who goes from the peaceful pursuits of life, for the first time, to engage in the art of war, does so with a lack of experience. Soldiering was not my trade. War is demoralizing in its tendency. This fact, I trust, will very much lessen any feelings of prejudice that may arise, in the course of these narratives, from passages clothed with the rough-and-tumble of army life.

Rough language and blunt manners are characteristics of war, because its tendency is to destroy the finer feelings of our natures. Some of the language used is of that character, and it would fail to be a truthful representation of the reality if rendered less so. The incidents that I have narrated are all of them facts that have occurred in my experience, and, without further apology, I submit them to an indulgent public.

Lorain Ruggles.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION

Lorain Ruggles was enlisted by me in December, 1861, at Columbus, Ohio. The name of "General Bunker" was given to him by the men in his company, and it was by that name that he was most generally known in the army, and very many knew him by no other name.

Mr. Ruggles is a man possessed of great presence of mind, a strong memory, and not a little of native wit, and great power of physical endurance. These, with his knowledge of the Southern people and country, admirably fitted him for the duties of a scout.

The narratives here related are of facts that actually occurred in his experience, and very many of them are as well authenticated as any facts in history can be. There has been no aim at making this a work of general history, but simply a narrative of personal experience, coupled with only so much of the general history of the war as is necessary to explain the cause of the events that transpired in his experience. Many of these are incidents of daring that are without parallel in the scout service. The following testimonials of the value of his services and the truthfulness of his reports will be read with interest:

"Head-quarters 1st Brigade, 3d Division,
"17th Army Corps, December, 11, 1863.
"Captain E. C. Downs, 20th Ohio:

"Captain—I have known Mr. Ruggles since December, 1861, when your company was first mustered. I remember very well his first expedition as a spy, in June, 1862, when the 20th was at Grand Junction, then an exposed outpost, under command of General Leggett.

"Since that time he has been continually employed on such duty, often on expeditions of extreme hazard. He has shown as much address as daring. Many a camp-fire has been enlivened with stories of his adventures while commanding officers have set high value upon his reports.

"I remember Mr. Ruggles as one of our best sharp-shooters in the war. His skill as a sharp-shooter, as well as scout, often got him leave to go out from the line on somewhat independent duty. At Champion Hills I gave him leave to go out with company A, which was sent out as skirmishers to open the way for an advance, on account of his skill.

"At the siege of Vicksburg, he had a special permanent permission to be among the sharp-shooters on the advanced lines. On the day of the general but unsuccessful charge in May, he was mainly instrumental in driving away the artillerists from two of the enemy's guns on the right of the Jackson road.

"His Henry rifle, given to him by General Grant, was one of the marked pieces among the sharp-shooters of the 17th Corps at that siege.

"Very respectfully, your ob't serv't,
"M. F. Force,
"Brig.-Gen'l. Vols., late Colonel 20th Ohio."

"Head-quarters 3d Div., 17th Army Corps,
"Vicksburg, Miss., December 7, 1863.
"Captain E. C. Downs:

"Dear Sir—Mr. Ruggles (or 'General Bunker,' as he is better known) has acted as scout and spy for me on very many occasions since the early part of June, 1862, and is now acting in that capacity. In this character he has been remarkably successful, seldom ever failing to satisfactorily accomplish the mission on which he was sent.

"Many scenes of his life as a spy are intensely interesting. It has been my fortune to meet in life very few persons who could so successfully act an assumed character.

"At some future time, I shall probably be at liberty to relate a few incidents of considerable interest in his career, of which he himself is as yet ignorant.

"Very respectfully,
"M. D. Leggett,
"Brigadier-General."

"Memphis, Tenn., November 28, 1863.
"Captain E. C. Downs:

"Dear Sir—You wrote me sometime since, inquiring as to the services of Mr. Ruggles as a scout and spy for the Union army. In reply I would state that Mr. Ruggles was a superior man for the work assigned him, and the information obtained through him of the movements of the enemy was always reliable.

"In the discharge of his duties, he was active, energetic, and heroically brave. His gallantry in the service deserves honorable mention in the work of which you speak.

"I am truly yours, etc.,
"Leeman F. Ross."

"Head-quarters 17th Army Corps,
"Department of the Tennessee,
"Vicksburg, Miss., December 15, 1863.
"To whom it may concern:

"This is to certify that Mr. Ruggles has been employed by me at various times during the past year, and I have always found him brave, adventurous, and truthful.

"His services as a scout have been very important, and he deserves well of the military authorities.

"Jas. B. McPherson,
"Major-General."

"Zanesville, O., July 31, 1866.
"Major E. C. Downs:

"Dear Sir—It affords me pleasure to state that I am personally acquainted with Mr. Lorain Ruggles, known in the army as 'General Bunker.' He belonged to my command, and I know he was regarded as one of the most intrepid scouts in the 17th Army Corps. He was in high favor with all our general officers, and I think rendered more efficient service in the capacity of scout and spy than any man with whom I am acquainted. He certainly deserves well of his country.

"I never knew him to give false intelligence, and in his forthcoming work should recommend it as a truthful narrative of his personal adventures, many of which I am known to.

"G. F. Wiles,
"Late Colonel 78th O. V. V. I., and Brevet Brig.-General."

"Carrollton, Ohio, June 27, 1866.
"Major E. C. Downs, Zanesville, Ohio:

"Major—I am glad to add my testimony to the reputation of 'Bunker' as a scout and spy. I believe him to have been the most reliable and successful scout in the Western army.

"'Bunker' had the confidence of Lieut.-General Grant and Major-Generals McPherson and Logan, which he earned by skillful labor during the campaign which resulted in the capture of Vicksburg and its garrison. 'Bunker' deserves well of his country.

"Yours truly,
"B. F. Potts,
"Late Brevet Major-General U. S. Vols."

"Carbondale, Ill., July 1, 1866.
"Major Downs:

"Dear Sir—I am well acquainted with Mr. Ruggles, or, as we called him in the army, 'General Bunker.' He was certainly a very excellent scout, and performed great service in that branch of duties. He served as scout for me, as well as for many others, and at all times performed his part well, ran great risks; was not only a good scout, but one of the best sharp-shooters perhaps in the army.

"Yours truly,
"John A. Logan."

"Washington, D. C., July 9, 1865.
"Major E. C. Downs:

"Dear Sir—In the work of which you speak, you are at liberty to refer to me concerning the value of the services rendered by Mr. Ruggles as a scout and spy. His reports were always reliable, and were held in high estimation by me.

"Yours truly,
U. S. Grant,
"Lieutenant-General U. S. A."

Such testimonials as the foregoing give the narratives contained in the following pages a reputation of reliability that can not be doubted. Whenever a mission of great danger was to be executed, Mr. Ruggles was the man that was usually chosen to perform it. His quick comprehension and heroic daring enabled him to address himself to the work, which he rarely ever failed to accomplish. Often the boldness of his designs proved to be the reason of his success. Very few have equaled, while none have excelled, him in that line of duty. Many of the incidents in his experience are so wonderful that in them the "truth seems stranger than fiction."

The Author.

FOUR YEARS A SCOUT AND SPY.

CHAPTER I.

Parentage—Early discipline—Childhood incidents—Subsequent occupations—Driven from Mississippi—Works on rebel fortifications—Escape to Illinois—Enlists as a soldier—Supposed to have deserted—How he got his name—Examination by the Surgeon—Roster of the Regiment.

I was born in the town of Copley, in what is now known as Summit County, Ohio, on the 17th day of June, 1823, and at the time that I entered the army I was thirty-nine years of age. My father's name was Alfred Ruggles. At the time of his death he was living with his second wife. His family numbered twelve sons and seven daughters. I am the youngest of seven children by my father's second wife.

My father was a blacksmith by trade, and all of his sons, except myself, were learned the trade, under his personal instruction. Lorenzo Ruggles, my father's second son by his first wife, after having finished his trade, was sent to college and educated. He is the General Ruggles of the Confederate army.

When I was ten years of age my father died, leaving a large farm disposed of by a will. The children went to law, and spent the entire property in breaking the will and settling the estate. In consequence of that I was thrown upon my own labor for my support at a very early age.

My father was an old-fashioned strict disciplinarian; in the government of his family "he ruled with an iron hand." His government was not only rigid but chilling. The deviation of a hair from the paternal command was usually followed by a whipping, and sometimes one was administered without proper investigation.

People often ask me, "What is the essential qualification of a good spy?" My answer is, "It requires an accomplished liar." I mean by that, a man that can successfully practice deception. I do not mean by that that a man must be an habitual liar. There is nothing that I despise more than a man whose word can not be relied upon. Whether deception, as I have practiced it in the discharge of my duty as a spy, is a moral wrong, I shall not here attempt to argue. Of this much I am sure: it has many times saved my life, and perhaps the lives of thousands of others, besides saving immense sums of money to the Government.

Whatever of the art of deception I possess has been somewhat shaped by the chilling discipline administered to me by my father. An incident or two from my early life will serve to show what that discipline was, and what effect it may have had in my after career.

In my childhood days I was noted as "a mischievous boy." I suppose that means that I was constantly devising or hunting some sort of diversion. My father usually kept wrought nails of his own manufacture to sell to his customers. These I used to get and drive into the fence, firewood, shade-trees, or any thing else that came in my way. This my father had forbidden me to do, but sometimes the impulse of the moment would cause me to break over, and as often I would be whipped for my disobedience.

One day, as my father was going away from home he charged me particularly not to go into the shop during his absence. While he was gone I became so much interested in play that I never thought of going to the shop. Near the close of the day my father returned, and it so happened that he needed a few wrought nails to use the first thing after his arrival. On going to the shop after some, he found his nail-box empty. His last impression, on leaving, had been that I would get them, and now his first impression was that I had got them. Consequently, I was immediately summoned to give an account of them.

"My son, what made you go into the shop during my absence?" inquired my father.

"Father, I did not go into the shop," I replied.

"Somebody has been there and carried off my nails. Nobody else was here but you; you must be the one that got them."

"I did not get them, father; neither did I go to the shop. I certainly did not."

My father knew that I had been in the habit of getting them, and, though he had never known me to tell him a willful lie, nevertheless, he thought that I had carried off his nails. I had not only disobeyed, but had lied about it. It was too aggravated an offense to let pass without punishment. Taking a hickory gun-wiper that stood in a corner of the shop, he gave me a severe whipping, and then said, "Lorain, what did you do with the nails?" Again I denied getting them, and again he whipped me, which was repeated several times. At length "forbearance ceased to be a virtue"—at least, my poor back felt so—and I said to him, "Father, if you won't whip me any more, I'll tell you what I did with them."

"Well, what did you do with them?"

"I drove them into the grind-stone block."

After having talked to me about the wickedness of telling a lie, he sent me into the house, little thinking that he had been forcing me to tell one.

The next morning, as I was standing by, a customer entered the shop for some nails. He had called the day before, and finding nobody present, and needing them for immediate use, took all that he could find, weighed them, and returned home. "There, father," said I, "I told you that I did not get your nails!" His heart smote him for the whipping that he had given me, and he wept like a child. The incident, however, had its effect, and not many days passed until I was again placed on trial.

Myself and sister Electa attended the district school. Our nearest neighbor, Mr. Moss, had a daughter about the age of my sister, who used to attend the same school; her name was Cordelia. She was a very proud-spirited girl, and improved every opportunity to show off. Her mother bought her a new work-pocket; this she would frequently display, and say to my sister, in a proud, haughty way, "You haint got no new work-pocket bought out of the store." It displeased me considerably to have her assume to be any better than my sister; so I resolved to stop it at the first opportunity.

One day, as we were returning from school we espied a squirrel that had taken refuge in a small tree by the roadside. Cordelia laid her work-pocket at the roots of the tree, and she and my sister mounted the fence, and commenced to climb the tree to catch it. Discovering the work-pocket, I picked it up unperceived, and started on. Coming to a bank of loose earth, where a tree had been recently uprooted by the wind, I buried it, and then returned toward my companions and called to them to come along. The girls had started to overtake me, when Cordelia, missing her work-pocket, returned to get it. She searched for it a long time, but without success. Failing to find it, she accused me of getting it, which I stoutly denied. At last, complaint was made to my father. Both of the girls had seen it lying near the tree, but neither of them had seen me have it. My father asked me what I had done with it; but I denied having seen it. "You must have taken it," said the old man, "for nobody else was there that could have taken it."

"I must have got the nails too," I replied. This outflanked him; he remembered having whipped me once wrongfully, and feared a repetition of the same thing. The result was I evaded punishment, and my father never found out what I had done with the work-pocket.

The next summer, after my father's death, I hired out on board of one of the packet-boats running on the Ohio Canal, as cabin-boy. I continued for three summers to follow the canal in that capacity, and for four summers following I was a canal driver. The last three seasons I drove the same team, and at the end of the third season I received from the Transportation Company a prize of ten dollars for having kept my team in the best order.

The winter following, my seventh season on the canal, I went down the Mississippi River to Arkansas, and spent the season chopping steamboat wood. While thus employed on Island Twenty-eight, I had the fortune to kill a very large black bear, which I sold to a steamboat captain for what seemed to me at that time a great price. The incident turned my attention to trapping and bear-hunting. I spent several successive winters in hunting and trapping in the wilds of Arkansas. In the winter of 1851 and 1852 I was employed in hunting wild hogs in the Yazoo bottoms for a man in Vicksburg, Miss. I was thus engaged at the same time that the fourteen French hunters were killed by wild hogs in the Yazoo bottoms. I spent one year as an overseer for Mr. James Ford, of Memphis, Tenn., on the French palace plantation, near the fort of Island No. 60. My summers were usually spent on the Mississippi and its tributaries. In the summer of 1859 I went to Pike's Peak, and thence to Salt Lake. The winter of 1860 and 1861 I was at work on White River, Ark., and had several hands at work with me, filling a contract for shingles for a man by the name of Hanner, in Bolivar County, Mississippi.

In the spring, I commenced to deliver the shingles, but Mr. Hanner refused to receive them, on the ground that the country was engaged in war. His refusal to receive them provoked me, and I said to him, "All you need is a good thrashing, and then you'll behave yourself and not talk so." That enraged him, and he turned and left me, muttering vengeance as he went. An hour later he returned with a party of men, threatening to hang me if he should catch me, but I was not to be found. Mr. Hanner did not accuse me of being an abolitionist or a Northern man. He was soon after made Colonel of the 17th Mississippi Zouaves. Knowing that my life was in danger there, I made my way to Memphis, Tenn.

At Memphis, Tenn., I found the secession element decidedly too hot for me. I saw no other way for me to do but "aid and comfort" the secession movement or leave the country.

Lying at the levee was a steamboat just getting up steam, destined, it was said, for St. Louis, Mo. She had on board a cargo of picks, spades, wheelbarrows, and whisky. I took passage in her and went to Columbus, Ky., and there she stopped and commenced to discharge her cargo. I soon learned that she was going no further.

At that place I came across Mr. James Ford, for whom I had been an overseer on the French palace plantation. He gave me a warm greeting, and said that he was glad that I had come. He was at that time in command of the post, and engaged in fortifying the place. He persuaded me to take charge of a gang of negroes and work on the forts, which I did, to kill all suspicion until an opportunity occurred for me to escape. When I had been there engaged for five days, the steamboat Amelia came up the river and landed, on her way to Cairo, Ill. I happened to know the pilot, and told him that I was in a tight place, and by his assistance I secreted myself on board the boat and went to Cairo. It was the last steamer that was allowed to pass by Columbus, Ky., until the place was captured by the Federal army.

From Cairo I went to Toledo, O. Recruiting for the Federal army was going on rapidly all over the North. In the fall of 1861 I visited the principal cities in Ohio, in search of a company of sharp-shooters, in which to enlist. I found several such organizations, but none of them were officered by men that suited me. In the month of December, while at Columbus, Ohio, I met Lieutenant Downs, of the 20th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, with a squad of ten men, on his way to Trumbull County to recruit. Liking his appearance and that of his men, I enlisted, on condition that he would furnish me with an Enfield rifle.

From Columbus we took the first train of cars to Cleveland; it was late in the evening when we arrived. Passing a boot and shoe store that was yet open, I obtained leave of the Lieutenant to stop and purchase a pair of boots before going to our place of lodging. The Lieutenant and party did not stop, but continued on to the hotel where we were to stop. After having purchased a pair of boots, I got into an interesting conversation with the shop-keeper, and remained somewhat longer than was necessary. I had been intrusted to the care of Corporal Grinnell by the Lieutenant, and my long absence had created a suspicion in the mind of the Corporal that I had deserted. He had also heard Lieutenant Bostwick, while in Columbus, advise Lieutenant Downs not to enlist me, for fear I would run away. At last he started out with three men in search of me, and found me still at the shop. I have since had many a joke with Lieutenant Bostwick and Corporal Grinnell about their suspecting that I would desert. They have been among my warmest friends in the army. The next morning, at eleven o'clock, we reached Warren. At that place the party dispersed to their homes, and I was furnished boarding at the Eagle House, where I remained for ten days.

On Monday, January 8, 1862, we met to go to the regiment, then at Camp King, near Covington, Ky. The squad had increased by accession of recruits to twenty men. Our journey passed off pleasantly, and in two days' time we reached our regiment. The party that went home with the Lieutenant had carried their knapsacks with them; not knowing at that time the name for them, I asked the Lieutenant if he had a "Bunker Hill" for me to wear on my back. From that I received the name of "Bunker," and have been more generally known by that name in the army than any other.

The next morning after our arrival in camp, we were marched over to the Surgeon's quarters for examination. From a list of names that the Lieutenant had handed him, the Surgeon called "Lorain Ruggles!"

"Here I am, Doctor," I answered; "what do you want of me?"

"I want to examine you, and see if you are sound."

"Oh, that's it, is it. You need not be to that trouble, I'm sound enough."

"Well, but I must see whether you are sound or not; hold out your hands; work your fingers; touch your hands over your head."

Going through the motions, I added, "Oh, I tell you that I am all right."

"Are you ruptured," he continued.

"Ruptured! what is that?"

"Are you bursted?"

"No, I ain't quite busted yet; I've a couple of dollars left."

"You don't understand me, Mr. Ruggles," continued the surgeon, placing his hands on my abdomen. "Are your bowels all right?"

"Oh, I understand you now! They are a little thin; the rations don't relish well yet."

The doctor succeeded at last in making me understand, and having finished his examination, we were accepted as a soldier in the United States army.

Like all other recruits, as soon as mustered in I was placed under drill. To me the "steps" and "facings," "times" and "motions," were perfectly incomprehensible. I formed a dislike to them that I could never get over. I was expert in the forest at handling my piece, and I did not see why the same times and motions that would kill a bear would not kill a "reb."

The following is a list of the commissioned officers that were in the 20th Ohio Volunteer Infantry at the time that I entered it:

Charles Whittlesy, Colonel,
M. F. Force, Lt. Colonel,
J. N. McElroy, Major,
E. L. Hill, Surgeon,
J. G. Purple, Asst. Surgeon,
E. N. Owen, Adjutant,
P. M. Hitchcock, Qr.-Master,
James Knapp, Chaplain.

CHAPTER II.

Moves to Cincinnati—Detailed to guard the forts—Meets a secesh lady—First scout—Unexpected visit of the Colonel—The drill—Bad report—The mischief investigated—Attempts to discover the rogues—Innocent man accused—The accusers skedaddle—Who got the chickens.

Shortly after I joined the regiment it moved to the city barracks in Cincinnati, Ohio. It was the duty of the regiment at that time to guard the fortifications that had been built to protect the cities of Cincinnati, Covington, and Newport. Not long after we arrived at the barracks, company "H," to which I belonged, was detailed for a three days' tour at guarding the line of defenses. Lieutenant Downs, with a squad consisting of three sergeants and twenty-seven men, were sent to guard that part of the defenses known as the Three-mile Batteries. I was one of the squad.

These batteries formed a chain of defenses running eastward from the Licking River at a distance of two miles and a half south of the city of Newport. Beginning near the Licking River, was situated Fort Shaler; a mile and a half east was Fort Stuart, and a mile and a half east of that was Beechwoods Battery.

The detail was divided into three squads, of a sergeant and nine men each, for each of the three forts. I was one of the squad that went to Fort Stuart. That fort being between the other two, was made head-quarters of the officer commanding the detail.

We crossed the Ohio River on a ferry-boat to Newport, and then marched out. When we had gone about half-way to the forts, we were met by a lady in a carriage, who, as we passed, called out, "Hurrah for Jeff. Davis!" We took it as a downright insult, but passed along without making any disturbance. We soon overtook a young man, who told us where the lady lived, who she was, and also that she was secesh, and that her sentiments were well known in the neighborhood. She was a widow.

The next morning I asked Lieutenant Downs for the privilege of taking three men with me to scout the neighborhood for information concerning the secesh woman's disloyalty. He granted the request, with the condition that we report back promptly by 2 o'clock in the afternoon. We were allowed to take our arms with us.

We visited all the neighbors living in the immediate vicinity of the lady's residence, and they all confirmed what we had heard of her disloyalty. We then went to her house, but found that she was absent. The members of her family said that she was not disloyal, but very strongly sympathized with the secession movement. Her negroes said she was secesh. We were treated courteously by the family, and urged to stay to dinner, which we did. While the dinner was being prepared, we enlivened the time by narrating our camp stories, very much to their amusement. When we were about to take our departure, we were invited to come the next day and bring our Lieutenant. The invitation was pressed so hard that we promised to come.

At the hour specified, we reported to our Lieutenant, and gave him all the information that we had gathered concerning the woman's disloyalty and the feeling that existed against her among her neighbors. It was determined, in consequence of the insult that we had received, and her known sympathy with the enemy, to lay the matter before the Colonel on our return to the regiment.

The next day was very rainy, so we did not repeat our visit as we had promised to do. About the middle of the afternoon we were very much surprised by the appearance at the fort of Colonel Force. Had he come in the night it would not have surprised us, because he had become proverbial for "making the rounds," especially in bad weather. At the time of his arrival the Lieutenant was absent, inspecting the other forts.

The manner of the Colonel seemed strange. He was very inquisitive about our rations—whether they held out and whether we had had any other than Government rations; he also inquired whether any of us had been absent from the fort at any time. I then told him of our trip the day before. He then inquired if we had any of us been there since, and we answered in the negative. He then inspected our ration-boxes, and the grounds all about the fort, examining carefully the wood-pile, fence-corners, and bushes, evidently looking for something on the ground. After having finished his search he did not seem satisfied, but acted as if he was disappointed in something. We were all satisfied that "something was up."

Having finished his inspection, he told me to get my gun and he would drill me in the manual while he was waiting for the return of the Lieutenant. I got along finely in all the movements until he gave the command, "Charge—bayonet."

It being the most natural for me, I brought my piece down to my left side, with a half-face to the left instead of to the right, as I ought to have done.

"Not so, not so—the other way; there—fix it so," said the Colonel, fixing it in its proper position.

"I can never charge bayonet that way."

"Hold it fast; let me try it," said he, putting his hand against the muzzle of the piece.

"I will if I can." He pushed, and over I went to the ground. Springing up and resuming my old position of half-face to the left, "You can't do that again; now try."

The Colonel did try, but could not budge me. He then told me to put up my gun. I had become extremely anxious to know what had brought him over, and I resolved to give him a hint to that effect; so I said to him, "Colonel, you must like the military profession pretty well."

"Why so? what makes you think that?"

"Because you came all the way over here from Cincinnati just to drill me."

The Colonel smiled, but said nothing. By this time the Lieutenant made his appearance. The Colonel took him out to one side and had some private conversation, and then left. We learned from the Lieutenant that complaint had been made at head-quarters that a squad of men from the forts had been to Mrs. ——'s house the night before and taken possession with fixed bayonets, and demanded meat, butter, chickens, and potatoes, and threatened, if the articles demanded were not given them, they would help themselves. The lady remonstrated, and finally begged of them not to disturb her property, but all to no purpose. They then helped themselves to such articles as they wanted, including about thirty chickens.

The Lieutenant seemed surprised and grieved to hear such reports about his men. He questioned us closely, as the Colonel had done, but all to no purpose; every man denied knowing any thing about the outrage. He searched the premises for any traces of chickens, such as offal, bones, or feathers, but none could be found.

The lady had represented to the Colonel that the soldiers that committed the outrage wore dark-blue blouses, and carried muskets with bayonets. The soldiers of no other regiment about there wore that kind of uniform or carried that kind of arms. When the Colonel left Fort Stuart, he went over to the Beechwoods Battery, and there the same investigation was made, but with no better result. Five of the men that accompanied me to the lady's house were taken over to see if they would be identified as having been there in the night, but the members of the family said they were not among the number. It was then arranged that the members of the family should go over to the barracks the day that we would return, and see if they could identify the men that did the mischief, on dress parade.

During the balance of our stay at the forts, the Lieutenant was very strict with us, and watched narrowly every movement that we made, but discovered no evidence of guilt. On our way back to the barracks, as we passed through the streets of Newport and Cincinnati, we seemed to be observed with more than usual interest, on account of the notoriety given us by the report. Dress parade came, and with it two members of the family, one a son of the lady, to point out the guilty soldiers. When parade was over the companies were all dismissed but company "H." The two persons then passed along the line, and succeeded in pointing out one man. He was a man of unexceptional character, and the very last man in the company that would have been guilty of such a thing; and besides he had been on duty at the fort next to the river, which was more than three miles distant from the lady's house.

Whatever suspicions the officers of the company might have had of men in the company, they were then well convinced that an innocent man had been wrongfully accused. The Colonel still believed that some of the men in the company had done it. It was then arranged that the son should return the next day and bring another member of the family—a young man that was teaching there—and see if he would have any better success.

Passes were prohibited us for ten days. Each one of the men on detail at the forts was examined separately, and I was called in for examination several times. After he had questioned me over and over again about it, I said to him, "Look here, Colonel, that would be a right smart trick for new recruits to do, wouldn't it? Besides, they tell me, Colonel, that you are like a comet; that you come when no man knoweth it. Supposing that you had "made the rounds" that night, and found Lieutenant Downs' men all gone. He would have been in a pretty fix! By and by the guard would call out, 'Halt! who comes there?' 'Chicken thieves!' would have been the reply. That would have been nice! You would have sent every man of us home in disgrace! I tell you, Colonel, Lieutenant Downs aint so big a fool as to let his men get disgraced in that way! He aint, indeed he aint."

The Colonel then walked his room back and forth, as if in a deep study, and then stopped, and facing me, said: "Is this the first time you were ever caught in a scrape of that kind?"

"You haven't caught me in that yet," I replied.

"That will do," said he; "you are either innocent or very well drilled! You can go to your quarters."

The next afternoon the two young men came over. When they arrived, the battalion was on drill, except the new recruits. While watching the drill, the son of the lady undertook to point out to the man that had accompanied him the person that he had previously pointed out. That, I thought, was not fair. I told the new recruits what was being done, and they all began to gather around the two young men to frighten them off. Some would cackle like hens; some crow like roosters; some pinned paper on their coat-tails; others would slip pork rinds into their coat pockets, and then accuse them of stealing soap-grease from the poor soldiers!

It was a rougher reception than they had bargained for, and, as soon as the crowd opened, they broke for the street and never came back again.

The "chicken scrape" is among the incidents of the past. Several of the men of the detachment that were on the forts at that time have nobly sacrificed their lives, and others their health, in the cause of their country; and, however well they loved chickens, they have all since proved themselves brave, heroic soldiers. In a future reckoning, the depredations committed that night will vanish when weighed by the "hurrahs for Jeff. Davis" by the lady in the carriage.

I leave the reader to draw his own conclusions, but I am inclined to think that somebody got the chickens.

CHAPTER III.

"Marching orders"—Arrives at Fort Donelson—The surrender—Goes North with prisoners—Meets an old friend as a rebel Captain—The Captain attempts to bribe him—Expedition up the Tennessee River—Touching incident—Battle of Shiloh—Captures an Enfield—Recommended as a scout.

On the 9th day of February, 1862, the regiment received "marching orders." It was a day of hurry and excitement. The order was received with delight by the men, for they had become tired with the dull monotony of guard duty, and were eager for a change.

It was a wet day, and the streets were filled with mud and slush from the rain and melting snow, and our feet dragged heavily as we marched to the levee, but, nevertheless, our hearts were light and cheerful. Little did we realize the hardships, the privations, and the sufferings that were in store for us, or think of the change that would take place ere we returned to the soil of our own loved State.

Two transports—the Emma Duncan and the Dr. Kane—were ready for us at the levee, and we embarked on board of them, and were soon under way. At Warsaw, Ky., we took on board two companies that had been doing duty there, and then proceeded on our way. We had an abundance of room—which added much to our comfort—and a pleasant trip all the way to Paducah, Ky., where we reported for orders on the 13th of February.

We were immediately ordered to report to General U. S. Grant, near Fort Donelson, without delay, and in a few hours we were under way. We reached our destination Friday afternoon, February 14th. The fighting had commenced, and at the time of our arrival our gun-boats were engaged with the rebel batteries in sight of where we landed.

The regiment was ordered to report to Colonel—since Brigadier-General—McArthur, commanding a brigade on the extreme right of the Federal lines. To reach our position we had to make a march of ten miles. The weather was cold, and the ground covered with several inches of snow. We started very early on the morning of the 15th to take our position. Being unused to marching with heavy knapsacks, the march was fatiguing to us in the extreme. We succeeded, however, in getting our position in line of battle by 10 o'clock, A. M.

At the time we took our position the battle was raging with intense fury. The roar of musketry, the crash of artillery, the scream of shells, the whiz of bullets, and the sight of the dead and wounded were not calculated to fill the minds of inexperienced soldiers with very pleasant sensations; nevertheless, every man of the regiment exhibited a coolness and firmness that would do honor to veterans in battle.

Toward night the enemy withdrew within his fortifications. That night we slept on our arms, in line of battle, on the snow-covered ground, expecting to renew the battle in the morning. The next morning—Sunday—about nine o'clock, the news came that Fort Donelson had surrendered.

Such shouts as went up from that army had never been heard before. From one end of the line to the other, cheer after cheer went up, until it seemed as if the trees of the forest were repeating the shouts. It was a glorious victory! It exceeded by far any victory previously achieved since the commencement of the rebellion. Over 14,000 prisoners were captured, besides an immense amount of artillery and small arms.

The 20th Ohio was one of the regiments that was detailed to guard the prisoners to the North. Companies A and H were assigned to the steamer Empress, and were intrusted with the guarding of 2,300 prisoners. Soon after daylight on Monday morning we were on our way down the Cumberland River.

Nothing of unusual interest occurred until we arrived at Bloody Island, opposite St. Louis, Mo., where we were to land the prisoners and embark them on board the cars, for Chicago, Ill. It was in the evening when we arrived there, and the prisoners remained on board until the next day.

I was on guard that night, and my post was at the gangway, with instructions to prevent, at all hazards, any attempt of prisoners to go ashore. About 1 o'clock at night a rebel Captain stepped up to me, and addressing me by name, said, "How are you?"

I recognized in him an old acquaintance by the name of Captain Brown, with whom I had formed an acquaintance at Island No. Twenty-eight, in the summer of 1852. At that time he was the owner and captain of the Memphis and Nashville packet steamer Sligo. When the rebellion broke out he raised a company at Nashville, and was made a captain in the —th Tennessee Infantry. At one time, while in difficulty in Memphis, Captain Brown had rendered me valuable assistance.

"How are you?" said I, as soon as I discovered who it was. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a prisoner, and my old friend is guarding me."

"Yes, I see! Quite a change since you and I last met."

"Yes, something of a change! I hardly expected to meet you in arms against me! You have lived a long time in the South. Do you think that you are doing exactly right to take up arms against us?"

"The old government and the old flag are good enough for me," I replied, "and I mean to stick by them so long as I live."

"Do you expect to pin the States together again with bayonets?" he asked.

"I don't know whether we shall pin the States together again or not; but I do know one thing; we'll have the soil back again, whether we have the people or not."

"See here!" said he. "Do you remember of my assisting you one time in Memphis, when you was in trouble?"

"Certainly I do! And you had my gratitude for it."

"Well, I am in trouble. Can you render me any assistance?"

"I will if I can."

"Well, you can."

"How?"

"By letting me cross your beat and go ashore."

"I can't do that."

"Why not? I helped you; why not help me?"

"Because I am no traitor to my country! I never asked you to raise your hand against your country to assist me."

"Here, take this watch; perhaps I can buy you," said he, offering me a splendid gold watch.

"Not much you can't buy me! I think too much of the stars and stripes for that."

"Take it," said he, "and let me cross your beat, and I'll give you a hundred dollars in gold besides."

"I can't do it," said I; "don't you ask me again."

Captain Brown went away quite chop-fallen, satisfied, I presume, that gold was not at par with genuine patriotism.

We guarded the prisoners to Camp Douglas, near Chicago, Ill., where we remained nine days, and then returned to Bloody Island, where we arrived on the 6th day of March. That night the regiment embarked on board the steamer Continental, for Paducah, Ky., which place we reached in time to join in the grand expedition up the Tennessee River.

At Paducah, General Sherman and staff came on board the Continental, and made it his head-quarters; and that boat, preceded by the gun-boats, led the fleet.

When under way, that vast fleet of steamers, loaded down with troops, as they moved along, one after another, at nearly equal distances apart, presented a grand and imposing appearance. The weather was mild and pleasant, which added much to the interest of the trip. The banks of the river often presented crowds of people that had gathered to witness the grand display of force that was penetrating the territory of the rebellion. Sometimes we were cheered by the crowds that lined the banks, indicating their loyalty, and at other times a sullen silence told plainly that we were not welcome.

One little incident occurred that I shall never forget. We had on board a citizen of Tennessee, who owned a large plantation on the left bank of the Tennessee River, about eight miles below Savanna. He was an exile from home on account of his devotion to the Union. An attempt was made by his neighbors to capture and hang him, but he succeeded in making his escape, and in getting through to Paducah, Ky., after having suffered a great deal from hunger and exposure, incident to traveling by night, through forests and swamps, to evade discovery. The last that his family had heard from him was that his disloyal neighbors were in pursuit of him, determined to hang him, and they did not know whether he was alive or not.

As we neared his plantation, a group of persons was observed standing on the bank of the river not far from his residence. He requested the captain of the boat, as we passed, to run the boat near the shore, so that he might recognize his wife and children, if they were there. The crowd on the deck of the steamer moved back, to give him a large clear space, that his family might more readily recognize him. As the boat neared the shore the group proved to be his wife, children, and servants, gazing with intense interest at the passing fleet. It was a touching scene, when that exile from home recognized his loved ones.

"I am alive! It is me!" he shouted, swinging his hat. "I am coming home! Glory to God! The Union forever! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory!" etc. He jumped and shouted as if in ecstasies of delight.

Such manifestations of love for home and country are unmistakable evidences of patriotism and loyalty. The incident is but one of thousands that have been witnessed in the prosecution of the war.

From that time on, nothing of special interest occurred in my experience until the battle of Shiloh, or Pittsburg Landing. The battle was fought on the 6th and 7th of April, 1862. I acted my part in that bloody conflict, but the details of the battle I must leave to the pen of the historian. At that battle I succeeded in capturing an Enfield rifle. My "handspike" was turned over, and with it dissipated the disgust with which I had carried it.

The next day after the battle of Shiloh, a circular was sent to the company commanders, from brigade head-quarters, requesting them to send in the names of such men as were trustworthy and suitable for scouts. Captain Downs (formerly Lieutenant Downs) sent in my name as one, which opened the way for the experiences that I shall narrate in the following chapters.

Early in June, soon after the evacuation of Corinth, the 20th Ohio Regiment moved to Bolivar, and soon after to Grand Junction, Tenn.

CHAPTER IV.

Rumored attack upon Grand Junction—"General Bunker" sent out as spy—Passes himself as a rebel soldier—Falls in with rebel cavalry—Visits a rebel camp—Attempts to deprive him of his revolver—Discovers a Yankee forage party—Undertakes to return—Captured by Yankees, and robbed of his revolver and money—Passes as a rebel spy—Sent to the Provost Marshal—Sent to General Hurlbut—Returned to Grand Junction.

Soon after the evacuation of Corinth by the forces under General Beauregard, a part of General Grant's army was distributed along the Ohio and Mississippi and the Mississippi Central, and also the Memphis and Charleston Railroads, to garrison the principal towns and open up communication for supplies by railroad instead of by the Tennessee River, which was becoming so low as to be an uncertain route for supplies.

At the time I speak of, Grand Junction was garrisoned by a small brigade of infantry and a battery of artillery, under command of Brigadier-General M. D. Leggett. Grand Junction is situated on the Mississippi Central Railroad at its junction with the Memphis and Charleston Railroad, and was an exposed outpost.

A rumor had become current among the citizens that a large force of the enemy's cavalry was in the vicinity, preparing to capture the brigade garrisoning the post. General Grant, who was still at Corinth, informed General Leggett by telegraph that his command was in danger; that an attempt would be made to capture his force; that he would be attacked on his right by cavalry and on his left by infantry, and advised him to vacate the place and fall back to Bolivar, twenty miles north of Grand Junction, where the Mississippi Central Railroad crosses the Hatchee River. The enemy's force was represented to be 900 cavalry at Davis' Mills, and three brigades of cavalry at what is known as the White Church, on Wolf River, the former nine and the latter twelve miles from Grand Junction, in a south-west direction. An additional force of a division of infantry were said to be at Salem, seventeen miles south-east of Grand Junction.

General Leggett had some doubts about the rebels having very much force near the place, and the large quantities of cotton that were being brought in, and the abundance of corn for forage, made it an object to hold the place as long as prudence would admit, and he resolved to ascertain whether there was any cause for alarm before vacating it.

General Leggett sent for me and told me what he wanted, and asked me if I was willing to undertake the job. It was the first opportunity that I had ever had of working as a spy, and I had for a long time been anxious to try my hand at it, and I felt certain that I could do the Government more good in that way than in any other. It was my time to strike, and I determined to improve it. I told General Leggett that I was willing to try, and would do the best that I could, and if I got back safe, "all right;" if not, my fate would be no worse than that of others before me.

I returned to my quarters and made the necessary arrangements, and the next morning, at daylight, I started out on the road to Salem, disguised as a Confederate soldier belonging to infantry.

The day was clear and pleasant, and a recent shower had laid the dust and cooled the air, and made it much pleasanter traveling than is apt to be the case in that country in the month of July. I was on foot, and the coolness of the atmosphere very much facilitated my progress. I was not interrupted in my progress until I had gone about eight miles, when I observed, as I approached a planter's house, a negro woman in the yard, engaged in churning. Being somewhat fond of buttermilk, I resolved to pay the inmates of the house a visit. As I approached the house, a lady came to the door, and, observing my Confederate uniform, seemed pleased to see me, and asked me to walk in and be seated, to which I complied.

"Where have you been?" she inquired.

"I have been out to the Yankee pickets, and I had a fight with them last night and killed three of the d——d Yankees. They killed my horse for me in the fight, and I am going back to Salem to get another that I left there. I have walked until I am tired. Seeing the woman churning in the yard, I thought I would stop and rest myself, and see if you would have the kindness to give me a drink of buttermilk."

"I am glad you did. You shall have all the buttermilk you want. You are not a-gwine to walk to Salem, are you?"

"Yes. I've got another horse there, and I don't like to trouble any body for the use of one."

"Well, now, you are not a-gwine to walk down thar; we've got heaps o' horses and mules, and you shall have one to ride. Bob! Bob!" calling to a darky in the yard, "you run right quick to the cotton-gin and fetch your master."

While Bob went on a double-quick for his master, the lady ordered me some buttermilk and wheat biscuit. While I was eating, the planter came in.

"Lord bless you, John!" exclaimed the lady, as her husband entered, "here is one of our soldiers, and he has had a fight with the Yankee pickets and has killed three of them! He says he's gwine to walk to Salem after another hoss. I tell him that he's not a-gwine to walk when we've got heaps o' mules! I think any of our soldiers that has killed three Yankees is entitled to a mule to ride!"

"You can have a mule in welcome; there's no occasion for you to walk," said the planter.

"Thank you!" said I, "I am under very great obligations to you for your kindness, but it may not be possible for me to return this way. I will not take a mule, but I am a thousand times obliged to you."

With many blessings from them, and an urgent invitation to call if I returned, I took my departure. When about twelve miles from Grand Junction, I was overtaken by a squad of thirteen rebel cavalry, including one Sergeant, under command of a Lieutenant.

"How are you, boys?" said I, as they came up.

"Fine!" said the Lieutenant. "How do you do?"

"I'm getting pretty near well, I thank you."

"Where do you belong?" he inquired.

"To the 13th Tennessee Infantry, Col. Vaughn's regiment."

"Ah—yes, yes; he's all right. I remember of seeing him in Corinth last spring," said the Sergeant; "I have a cousin in the same regiment."

"Where do you belong?" I inquired.

"To Jackson's First Battalion of Cavalry," answered the Lieutenant. "Where are you gwine?"

"I am gwine down to my regiment," said I. "I have been sick, and have been home in Osceola, Mississippi County, Arkansas, and I am gwine down to Salem to report myself to the nearest head-quarters. I have heard that there is some of our forces there, and I want to find out where my regiment is."

"You are mistaken," said the Lieutenant; "there is none of our forces there. And besides, it is not necessary for you to report at any head-quarters. Your regiment is at Tupelo, where you will have no difficulty in getting to it. We have some spare horses here; get on one of them and ride."

I mounted one of the horses and rode along with them. I learned, from conversation with them, that their regiment was stationed at Tupelo, Miss., and that they were detailed to traverse the country and visit all the planters, and tell them to haul their cotton, corn, and bacon to a place known as the Double Block-house, where it would be guarded to prevent the Yankees from stealing it.

We only went about a mile after I mounted the horse before we turned to the right, and a half a mile more brought us to the double log-house. At that place three regiments of infantry were camped, and their principal object appeared to be to guard the stuff that the planters were hauling in for protection. Several thousand bushels of corn and large quantities of bacon had already been hauled there.

We dismounted and remained in the camp about an hour. While there the Lieutenant told me that I had better not be in a hurry about going to Tupelo; "for," he said, "the times are rather tough for a man just recovering from sickness, and the rations are not such as a sick man can relish." He told me that he was going round on to the lower Tupelo road in a day or two, and that I had better run with them till that time, and he would put me on to a road where I would find clever people and plenty to eat. It all seemed very good advice, and favorable to my purpose, and so I accepted it.

The balance of the day was spent in visiting every plantation on the roads to the west and north of the block-house, and when we halted for the night we were within three miles of Davis' Mills.

There I was like to have a little difficulty with the Sergeant. I had with me a very nice navy revolver that I had borrowed of Colonel Force preparatory to starting out. The Sergeant discovered that I had it, and was going to take it away from me.

"What business has an infantry soldier with such a revolver as that?" said the Sergeant. "Infantry soldiers don't need them, and cavalry soldiers do. It will never do you any good if you keep it; so give it to me."

"Sergeant," said I, "you are superior to me in rank, and if you insist I shall have to obey; but if you take that revolver away from me I'll report you to Billy Jackson! I will indeed!"

"Sergeant," said the Lieutenant, who heard our words, "if Colonel Vaughn is willing that his men should carry such things, it is none of our business. Let the soldier keep his revolver!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," said I. "I prize that revolver very highly. I bought it in Memphis, about the time the war commenced, to kill the Yankee sons of b—hes with, and when I enlisted Colonel Vaughn told me I might carry it, and I mean to do it."

"That's right!" said the Lieutenant. "Turn up as many of the d—d Yankees' heels with it as you can! Soldier, what road did you come in on this morning?"

"I came down on the Somerville road, across the Hickory flats, by the old man Pruett's, and then over on to the Salem and Grand Junction road."

"You came a very good route, indeed."

"I am aware of that," I replied. "I know this here country all through in here. Lieutenant, where did you boys stay last night?"

"At Davis' Mills."

"Haven't we got a cavalry force there?"

"No. There was only us fourteen there last night."

"The old man Pruett told me yesterday that there was, that we had three brigades of cavalry at the White Church on Wolf River."

"The old man was mistaken. There is none of our forces nearer than Tupelo, except the three regiments that you saw to-day, and a few of the same company that I belong to, that are scattered about the country on the same business that we are on."

In the morning our operations of notifying the planters was renewed, and our route lay along the bottoms of Davis Creek, toward the head-waters of the creek. About noon we very unexpectedly found a Yankee forage party.

"There is some of the Yankee sons of b—hes now!" said the Lieutenant.

"Where?" said I.

"There, up on top of the hill to the left," said he, pointing toward them.

I looked, and sure enough there they were. There was about thirty of the Yankees, and eight teams. They had halted to feed, and had stacked arms. They did not see us. We moved along a little further to a cow-path that led to the right up a ridge of ground parallel to the one occupied by the Yankees. The hollow that intervened was filled with a growth of bushes extending to the path which we were in, which screened us from view and enabled us to approach within fifty yards of the Yankees without being seen.

I now recognized the detachment as belonging to my own regiment, and one of the men was my own bunk-mate!

The Lieutenant told us to be quiet and not to speak a word, and if the Yankees ventured away from their arms, we would make a dash upon them and capture their arms and mules, and burn the wagons. Little did they mistrust the relation that I bore to these Yankees. I determined, if a dash was attempted, to do what execution I could upon my butternut companions with my revolver, hoping to dispose of four or five of them before my true relation was discovered. It was a moment of fearful suspense as we watched those Federal soldiers; but my butternut companions were too deeply interested in the watch to observe any feelings that my actions might have betrayed.

For about twenty minutes we watched them, but they did not move away from their arms. The Lieutenant, fearing his own safety might be endangered by too long a stay, silently withdrew his men, and made his way back toward Davis' Mills by another route. That night we stayed at a planter's house, ten miles from Grand Junction.

At three o'clock the next morning we were again on the move, and a two hours' ride brought us to four corners in the road somewhere south-west of Lagrange, and three or four miles distant from that place. There we halted, and the Lieutenant told me that one of the roads was the one that I wanted to take to go to Tupelo. He gave me the names of several planters that lived on the road, and advised me to stop two or three days at a place and recruit my health all I could on the way to my regiment, and assured me that the planters he had named were clever people, and that I would be welcome with any of them. I thanked him and bade him a good morning, and started on the road that he had pointed out, not caring whether it led to Tupelo or not, if I could get away from him and his squad.

As soon as the cavalry was out of sight, I made a detour through a large cotton-field to my left, and continued on until I came into a road that I supposed led direct to Grand Junction; while in company with the cavalry, we had zigzagged through the country so much that I had become somewhat confused, and I was not sure where the road did lead to. I took it, however, and moved along very fast to get, as soon as possible, as far away from the vicinity where we parted, lest, by some chance or other, I might be found going toward Grand Junction instead of Tupelo. I kept, as I supposed, a sharp look-out as I moved along, and had gone, as near as I could judge, three miles, when I was very unexpectedly interrupted in my course by a challenge of "Halt! halt! you son of a b—h!"

I was considerably alarmed, for I supposed that I must have encountered a rebel picket. On looking to see where the challenge came from, I found that it emanated from a Federal picket. A clump of bushes had prevented me from seeing him until I was close on to him. My position was clear enough now. I had taken a road to Lagrange, instead of Grand Junction, and had encountered General Hurlbut's pickets.

"Ha! ha! my butternut soldier!" exclaimed the guard, as I halted; "you got caught rather unexpectedly."

"I reckon I did," I replied.

"Where do you belong?"

"To the 13th Tennessee."

"You've got tired soldiering on short rations, I suppose?"

"I reckon I a'n't starved yet."

One of the pickets then took me to the Captain in command, at the reserve. There I was subjected to a rigid questioning and search, but I was determined to carry out my disguise until I could report to some commanding officer. My revolver and money, and other articles, were taken from me by the Captain, and then I was ordered to stand up by a tree until further orders. I remonstrated with the Captain about depriving me of my revolver and private property, and told him that "we always respected a prisoner's right to his side arms and personal effects." The Captain replied that I might be d—d glad to get off so, and if he had his way about it, he would shoot every rebel in the Southern Confederacy.

While standing at the tree, I observed a plantation house that stood within less than a hundred yards from me, and that it was occupied. My early start and the distance I had traveled gave me a ravenous appetite, so I asked the Captain if he would be so kind as to allow me to go to the house and get some breakfast.

"Yes," said he, "you may go; but, G—d d—n you, if you undertake to get away, I'll have you shot!"

"I won't run away," I replied; "I didn't come in here to run away. I'll come right back as soon as I get my breakfast."

When I got to the house, I met the man of the house at the door. He had evidently seen me coming, and my uniform attracted his attention.

"Good morning!" said I, as he came out.

"Good morning; won't you come in?"

"Yes, I don't care if I do; and I should like right well to get some breakfast here, if you please, for I am mighty hungry."

"Walk in; you shall have all the breakfast you want. Where do you belong?"

"To Col. Vaughn's regiment, the 13th Tennessee."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Well, I belong to Colonel Strawl's regiment, the 4th Tennessee. I am a surgeon in that regiment; my name is Biggs. What is your name?"

"My name is Ruggles. I am a brother to General Ruggles."

"Is it possible! I know the General very well. What are you doing up here?"

"I am going through the d—d Yankee lines to-day, if I can."

"You are? A'n't you afraid they'll get you?"

"No; I expect they'll get me into the guard-house, but I'll soon manage to get out."

"Well, do the best that you can. If they do get you into the guard-house, you sha'n't want for anything to eat. I'll see to that myself."

Breakfast was announced as ready for me, and I sat up to the table. They had got me fried ham, baked sweet potatoes, warm biscuit with butter and honey, and coffee with sugar and cream. I think the condition of my appetite enabled me to do that meal ample justice. When I had finished, I asked the doctor how much I should pay him.