Four years in Seccessia; adventures within and beyond the Union lines

Front matter

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Preface

Most first Books either are, or assume to be, written at the urgent solicitation of that apocryphal class known as Friends.

Having a very limited acquaintance with that somewhat intangible portion of the community, I would state that this unpretending Volume owes its parturition to the request of my publishers, who, unsolicited, offered me such terms as a gentleman of very slender income (his estates in Castile being entirely inconvertible in Wall street), and somewhat expensive habits, could ill afford to refuse.

I had no idea, on my return to Freedom and Civilization, of preparing any work for the press, and but for the reason named — the War being virtually at an end — I would have subsided into the pursuits of Peace, and the regular duties of Journalism.

The contents of "Four Years in Secessia" are, for the most part, pieces of patchwork, stitched together with a needle that grew extremely rusty in the long dampness of Rebel prisons.

The little labor on the book has been hurriedly and irregularly performed, under very adverse circumstances ; — few persons who have not endured a long and odious

Preface.

confinement can understand how completely it unfits the mind for the duties of composition ; — yet, such as it is, it is offered with hesitation, as far below the standard the work might have otherwise attained.

The different chapters are mainly but the records of personal observation and experience, without any attempt at high coloring or desire for sensation — merely plain facts homely grouped together ; and must gain whatever interest they may possess, rather from accuracy of statement and earnestness of purpose than from nature of incident or method of presentation.

The Authoe.

New Yoek, May Ist, 1865.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

OUR CAPTURE BEFORE VICKSBURG Frontispiece.

THE BOHEMIANS AS HOUSEKEEPERS 42

BOHEMIA AS A BELLIGERENT. ... * 66

GUNBOAT FIGHT AT FORT PILLOW 110

UNION BUSHWHACKERS ATTACKING REBEL CAVALRY. 346

THE ESCAPED CORRESPONDENTS ENJOYING THE NEGRO'S

HOSPITALITY 310

CONFERENCE OF THE CORRESPONDENTS WITH BUSH- WHACKERS 386

THE BOHEMIANS CLIMBING THE MOUNTAINS 394

OOIsTTEl^TS.

Chapter I. The War Correspondent

His Anomalous Position. — A Ruralist's Idea of a Bohemian. — How the Name ■was Obtained. — Genesis and Purpose of the War Correspondent. — His Duty and Obligation. — Tlie Difficulty of his Task. — His Habits, Peculiarities, and Defects. — What he Requires of the Service. — His Just Claims . . 13

CHAPTER 11.

THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN.

Life in Jefferson City, Mo. — Effect of the Sudden Change from Metropolitan Life. — A Contrast to the Glory of War. — A Romantic Soldier. — ^A Camp Picture. — The Original Bohemian Brigade 23

CHAPTER ni.

CAMP-LIFE AT SYRACUSE, MO.

Effects of Camp-Life. — Sentimental Reflections on War. — A Modern Penthesilea. — Woman's Mihtary Influence Beautifully Exemphfied. — The Rural Females of MissourL — Their Unpoetic Appearance 21

CHAPTER IV.

A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.

Unanticipated Attack. — Inexplicable Sensations. — Prosaic Revelation. — Our Intense Suffering. — A Novel Remedy. — Extraordinary Ride through a Tempestuous Night. — Fmale of the Tragi-Comedy 33

CHAPTER V.

ROMANCE AND REALITY IN CAMP.

Conversion of a Fair Secessionist. — Disadvantage of Securing a Guard. — A Grand Mule Concert. — Sonorous Imitations of the Opera. — High-Art Jackassical Performances. — Terror Excited by the Unique Entertainment . . 38

CHAPTER VI.

ON THE MARCH.

Brutality of OfiBcers. — Shameful Treatment of a Woman. — Change of Base. — A Model Missouri Hotel. — Resumption of the March. — Bohemian Philosophy. — Its Necessity in the Field 42

CHAPTER Vn.

WILSON'S CREEK.

Visit to the Battle-Ground. — Its Appearance. — Cause of Sigel's Discomfiture. — Scenes on the Field. — Ghastly Spectacles. — The Sleeping Camp. — A Skyey Omen ............. 46

CHAPTER Vin.

ZAGONYI'S RIDE TO DEATH.

Charge of the Fremont Body-Guard. — Its Desperate Character. — The Heavy Loss. — Scene of the Engagement. — Description of the Battle. — Progress of the Ride.— Fhght of the Foe.— After the Struggle 49

CHAPTER IX.

THE RETROGRADE MOVEMENT.

The Return to Rolla. — A Ghastly Jest. — A Brace of Fair Bohemians. — The Discrediting Effect of Camp Attire. — A Night in a Barn. — Potency of an Army Pass 55

CHAPTER X.

SECESSION IN MISSOURL

The Feminine Secessionists of St. Louis. — Their Parrot-like Raving. — Their Resemblance to Barnaby Rudge's Raven. — Harmlessness of Pettiooated Traitors. — Sale of Rebel Property. — Curious Scene. — A Mysterious Article . .61

CHAPTER XI.

BATTLE OF DONELSON.

March from Fort Henry to the Field. — Troubles of the Correspondents. — Difficulty of Subsistence. — Courage of our Soldiers. — Examples of Sacrifice and Heroism. — Gallant Charge. — Amateur Sharpshooting. — Mortification of the Enemy after the Surrender. — Desperation of the Rebels. — Repudiation of the Five to One Boast. — Ghastly Wounds. — Touching Incidents 66

CHAPTER XII.

AFTER THE BATTLE.

Extracts from my Note-Book. — Sensations of a Reasoning Mati Under Fire. — A Novel in Brief. — ^A Faithless Woman and a Sacrificed Lover. — A Juvenile

Contents

Hero. — Difficulty of Dying on the Field. — Ultra-professional Correspondenta. Ludicrous Incidents of their Journalistic Devotion . . . . *18

CHAPTER XIII.

OCCUPATION OF COLUMBUS.

Chapter II. The Fremont Campaign

Life in Jefferson City, Mo. — Effect of the Sudden Changes from Metropolitan Life. — A Contrast to the Glory of War. — A Romantic Soldier. — A Camp Picture. — The Original Bohemian Brigade.

The Fremont campaign was the first in wliicli I fairly took the field, and, consequently, many things impressed me then, that, later in the War, would not have affected me at all.

The prominent features of that campaign have passed into history, and Avould not bear repetition here. Therefore I shall merely give my personal impressions and observations when I reached Jefferson City, early in September, 1861, fresh from the pursuits of Peace and the comforts of metropolitan life.

I arrived at the capital of Missouri some weeks before General Fremont quitted St. Louis, when Jeff. C. Davis, then Colonel, commanded the post. There was very little doing there then in the military way, and very sudden transplanting to that rude frontier town made me merely vegetate in that most uncongenial atmosphere.

I put up at a miserable hotel, and for a fortnight I was BO lonely and wretched, that, if there had been an agreeable woman in the place, I should have fallen in love with her from sheer desperation.

Safe enough was I, however, in that particular. There were no women of any kind, not to speak of lovable ones, visible in the streets, through which I sauntered listlessly and gloomily, wondering when my brother Bohemians, whom I had left in St. Louis, would make their aj^pearance at the dreary capital.

I had no books with me, and could get none in the town worth reading. I did not know how to pass the hours. I was extremely miserable. I am not ashamed to confess it now — I was home-sick ; and, if it had not been for pride, I should have resigned my position of War Correspondent, and hurried back to peaceful avocations and metropolitan life, with a keener appreciation than I had ever known before.

Having little to occupy me, I was a great observer, and grew a trifle sentimental, perhaps, as indolent and unhappy persons usually do.

One saw just then much of "the pomp and circumstance of glorious war." While cavalry companies were constantly dashing through the streets, regiments marching to the inspiring strains of martial music, ofiicers hurrying to and fro on prancing steeds, artillery rumbling along, bugle-notes and drum-rolls rising from the adjacent camps, a funeral cortege passed my window.

A rude car contained a cofiin, enveloped in the American colors ; a squad of soldiers followed, with reversed arms ; a bugle played a mournful dirge ; but no one noticed the sad procession. All had too much of life to care for the dead.

'No one paused to think of the poor fellow in the coffin, who sickened and died afar from home and friends, in a military hospital.

No kind sister had spoken comfort to him ; no mother's

THE FREMONT OAMPAIGK 25

hand liad smoothed his pillow ; no nearer and dearer friend — kindred only in heart — had bathed his brow or moistened his fevered lips, or received his last word, or sigh, or kiss.

He had not even had the consolation of dying in battle, poor fellow ! Disease had struck him down ; but his death was not therefore less glorious.

Happy soldier ! his troubles were over. He had suffered, and was at rest. Nor care, nor pain, nor strife could reach him evermore.

'No one noticed the funeral cortege, I have said.

Yes, there was one.

A young man stood on the sidewalk, with head uncovered, his face beautiful with sympathy, and his eye moist with pity and with love.

Men were not all careless and selfish, even there.

He who pitied and who felt, whatever his creed or station, must have been, in the largest sense, a Christian and a gentleman.

* * * *

One night, as I was at the railway depot, I observed a young man, with an unusually intelligent and comely face, standing sentry, in the uniform of a private.

I had rarely seen such a face in the ranks, and I stopped a minute near him, gazing at the stars.

"A beautiful night this," he said. "External nature is charming, but human nature is ever melancholy. How calm and beautiful the stars are ! They seem silently to rebuke the scene of arms on which they gaze."

My impression of his superiority to his station was corroborated.

26 FOUE YEARS IN SECESSIA.

Few private soldiers think or talk as he had done ; and at once we fell into conversation, which continued for an hour.

I learned from him — for he at once unbosomed himself — that he had been in love with a beautiful girl, the onlydaughter of a wealthy merchant of Cincinnati, and been affianced to her.

During three months' absence in the East, she had been flirting desperately with another young man, and my soldier-friend, learning, on his return, that the two were engaged, concluded to call on her no more.

The girl wrote to him, and he answered, informing her of what he had heard. She acknowledged the truth, but declared her affair with his rival merely a flirtation ; that she loved the youth she addressed, and never could love any one else.

This was not satisfactory. The enamored youth was wretched and desperate, and, declaring all women false, volunteered as a private, and went to Missouri.

He informed me that, but for the war, he would have committed suicide ; that he was anxious to fall in the first charge, for life had for him no further charms.

I smiled at his infatuation, and told him that nearly all women were fickle; that his "Louisa" was less so, probably, than most of her sex ; that he should have more philosophy than to think of dying for a silly girl, and that he should congratulate himself on his escape from matrimony.

He thought me jesting, at first, and then wondered how one at my age — I was far younger than now — had become so cynical.

THE FREMONT CAMPAIGN". 27

"Througli observation and reason," I answered; and, assuring liim lie would soon forget "Louisa," and fancy lie loved some other woman, bade him good-night.

He vowed I was mistaken ; that I would hear of his death in his first battle.

I never did.

He will go through the war unhurt, no doubt, and live long enough after to laugh at his boyish passion, and experience, perhaps, that Love, as young hearts imagine and poets paint it, is a myth that Reason immediately removes.

* * * *

About the 1st of October we went into camp, and on the evening of the 4th, all was activity.

The sky was dark with clouds, and the lightning in the southern horizon, and the low-muttering thunder, blending with the neigh of horses, the rattling of sabres trailing on the ground, the "good-by" of officers, as they rode off to join their commands, already in advance, the hoarse cry of the artillerymen and teamsters, the musicswell of the National bands, coming in waves over the slopes and through the trees, with the illuminated tents, the camp-fires reddening the oaks and beeches — all gave a strange but attractive wildness to the mezzotinto landscape before our eyes.

With all its monotony, all its painful suggestions, there is a kind of charm in camp-life — in its freedom from ordinai*y restraint, its out-door existence, its easy, reckless tone, its devil-may-care indifi*erence, and utter disregard of the formal barbarians the enlightened world calls " Society."

*' The Boliemian Brigade" was the name the little corps of army correspondents and artists that soon assembled at Jefferson City had received. They were only seven or eight in number : Albert D, Richardson, of the !N"ew York Tribune, Thomas W. Knox, of the Herald, Franc B. Wilkie, of the Times, Richard T. Colburn, of the World, Joseph B. McCnllagh, of the Cincinnati Commercial, Geo. W. Beaman, of the St. Louis Democrat, Henri Lovie, artist for Frank Leslie, and Alex. A. Simplot, for Harper's WeeMy ; with several other scribblers and sketchers, who were there for a few days, but grew tired or disgusted, and did not accompany our exj)edition to the South- West.

'Of course, we had considerable leisure, and amused ourselves as best we could, in the absence of books, which were very scarce. We smoked pipes, played whist, discussed Poetry, Metaphysics, Art, the Opera, Women, the World, the War and its future, and various themes on which we then could merely speculate. Most of our Brigade were bachelors — unless Michelet's idea of bachelordom, as represented in "L' Amour," be correct — and enthusiastic members of the anti-matrimonial school of philosophy.

The unwedded bore camp-life resignedly and cheerfully ; but the Benedicks seemed delighted with it, because, as the most confirmed celibates declared, they then had an excuse for absenting themselves from their domestic hearths, and, to use that exquisitely satirical phrase, the *' blessings of connubial life."

CAMP-LIFE AT STKAOUSE, MO. 29

Chapter III. Camp-life At Syracuse, Mo

Effects of Camp-Life. — Sentimental Reflections on "War. — A Modern Penthesilea. — "Woman's Military Influence Beautifully Exemplified. — The Rural Females of Missouri. — Their Unpoetic Appearance.

In the early days of October, 1861, Fremont's army began to move from Missouri' s capital, for tlie purpose of intercepting, if possible, and certainly of giving battle to, Price' s forces, wlio had from some mysterious cause been alloAved to take Lexington, and then retreat soutlnvard without opposition or hindrance. Whose the fault "was, I "will not here attempt to sho"w. I will simply accompany Fremont to Springfield, describing such noteworthy incidents of the camp and march as have not already become familiar to the general reader.

When the correspondent of the Herald and myself reached Syracuse, Mo., about the 13th or 14th of October, I was becoming accustomed to camp-life, though I could hardly say I liked it, nor did I believe I ever should.

It was certainly a change, and on that account I sought it. It was very different from existence at the Fifth Avenue or Metropolitan — about as different as a transfer from Paris to Canton, or from the equator to the north pole. I had not expected to find agreeableness in camp-life, but rather its opposite ; and therefore I was not to be disappointed.

Residence in camp has a decided effect in removing the romantic idea of War, which, by the by, I have ever regarded as the most prosaic and unattractive of actualities. No spirit of poesy, no breath of sentiment enters into War ; no aesthetic principle animates it. War bristles with facts — is terribly real, repulsively practical.

War may be beautiful on the historian's page, and through the idealization of time and distance ; but to the spectator or the actor it is divested of its charms, and becomes a reign of horrors and a civilized monstrosity. And yet it has its fascinations, as drunkenness, licentiousness, murder, journalism, and the stage have theirs.

What is War, after all, but scientific assassination, throat-cutting by rule, causing misery and vice, and pain and death by prescribed forms ? It seems high time War had ceased to be. It is a palpable anachronism, and yet it continues, and will until the mental millennium arrives ; until this sphere is spiritualized, and mankind have grown philosophers.

So I thought then ; but my duty was to write of, not against. War ; and, stretched on the earth beside my tent, in the shade, on a warm, bright, beautiful' day, full of the loveliness of October, I proceeded to discharge ni}^ journalistic obligations as best I could, reserving my sentimental opinions about War for private ears.

A great deal of disharmony and trouble occurred about that time in a Missouri cavalry regiment, which threatened then to, and eventually did, break it up completely. About the 1st of October, the commander had placed a number of the inferior officers under arrest at Tipton, and

AMP-LIFE AT SYRACUSE, MO, 31

a detacliment at Jefferson refused to obey his orders, and were insubordinate because tliey were not armed. Much of this trouble was reported to have arisen on account of the interference of the wife of the Colonel with the affairs of the regiment, in which she took the most lively interest.

I was told she threatened to horsewhip some of the refractory officers, drew revolvers upon others, and adopted the most masculine measures to restore order out of chaos. Of course, a woman's interference was resented by the officers, who murmured loudly against petticoat domination, and were extremely anxious to get rid of her. The Madame, however, would not be gotten rid of, and continued to play the part of Penthesilea with a degree of boldness and perseverance which, in the days of the Amazons, would have made her their queen.

She bore dispatches, rode through storm and tempest, faced curses and opposition, met insult with maledictions and menaces, and evinced an energy, a resolution, and a courage, that rendered it a pity she was not born of the opposite sex.

Notwithstanding her feminine gendership, she was said by those who knew her to be most masculine in character, and that she would be very effective in leading a cavalry charge, or attacking a death-dealing battery. From all accounts, she seemed unfortunate in her genesis — to have been created physically a woman and mentally a man.

The virago finally demoralized the regiment, caused its disbandment, and her husband's removal from the army.

She had her way ; but she ruined her liege-lord, who, the last I heard of him, had taken to superlative potations

32 rOUK YEARS IN" SECESSIA.

and the exhibition of seven -legged calves and Irish giants, still accompanied, and haunted, and tortured 'by the pursuing Nemesis of his life, the precious punk whom we have honored with the fragment of a chapter.

* * * *

After my arrival in the rural regions of Missouri, and my association with the army, I often wondered how men fond of women managed to endure ; indeed, I, who had always regarded the softer sex as works of art— and are they not such ? — from the level of cold criticism or pure sesthetics have been compelled to commiserate, though I could not sympathize with, those countless amorous Alfonsos.

Fine women did not appear indigenous to the disloyal soil of Missouri.

They were in the rough, as sculptors phrase it ; lacking the refining chisel of Art and Culture to fashion them into loveliness.

A lover of the Beautiful looked in vain for the classic features, the spiritual expression, the soul-reflecting eye, the charming symmetry, the voluptuous proportions, the elegant drapery, the delightful but airy nothings that appeal to the Imagination more than the Sense.

In their stead, he saw brown and brawny women, that offended his taste, and chilled his gallantry ; that repressed his chivalrous sentiment, and falsified his memories of the blue eyed "Belles" and hazel-haired "Heroes" he had met, and made them seem the angels of a dreamy Past.

CHAPTER ly.

A NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS.

Unanticipated Attack. — Inexplicable Sensations. — Prosaic Revelation. — Our Intense Suffering. — A Novel Remedy. — Extraordinary Ride through a Tempestuous Night. — Finale of the Tragi-Comedy.

Until I begj^ii to follow the camp, I had never known, save by auricular evidence, of those unpoetical insects known as fleas; Ibut one night in Syracuse, Mo., "our mess" experienced the cruelty and savageness of the diminutive foes of man, to our bodies' extremest dissatisfaction.

We were all lounging in the tent, reading, undreaming of enemies of any kind, when we all became restless, and the interest of our books began seriously to diminish.

There were various manual applications to various parts of tlie body, multifarious shiftings of j)Osition, accompanied with emphatic expletives that sounded marvelously like oaths.

"What is the matter?" was asked by one of us of another. "What renders you so uneasy?"

" Heaven knows !" was the answer ; "but I itch like Satan."

"My body seems on fire," observed one.

"I wonder," said another, "if I have contracted a loathsome disease!"

"Confound it! what ails me?"

"And me^and me — and me?" was echoed from my companions.

One hand ."became insufficient to allay the irritation of our corporeality. Both hands became requisite to the task, and our volumes were necessarily laid aside.

No one yet appeared aware of the cause of his suffering. If we were not all in Tophet, no one could deny we had gone to the old Scratch. We seemed to be laboring under an uncontrollable nervous complaint. We threw our hands about wildly. We seized our flesh rudely, and rubbed our clothes until they nearly ignited from friction.

One of the quartette could stand it no longer. He threw off his coat and vest spasmodically, and even his under garments, and solemnly exclaimed —

*'Flee from the wrath to come!"

The mystery was explained — the enigma solved.

The martyr's person was covered with small black spots, that disappeared and reappeared in the same instant.

To be practically expressive, he was covered with fleas.

The rest of us followed his example, and converted ourselves into model artists.

We were all covered with fleas. . Fleas were everywhere. Tent, straw, books, blankets, valises, saddles, SAvarmed with them.

The air scintillated with their blackness.

We rushed out of the tent.

They were there in myriads.

The moonlight fell in checkered beams through their innumerable skippings.

They made a terrible charge, as of a forlorn hope, and drove ns back.

We roared with anger and with pain, and lond curses made the atmosphere assume a violet hue.

Three of the flea-besieged caught up canteens of whisky and brandy, and poured the contents over their persons and down their throats ; scratching meanwhile like a thousand cats of the Thomas persuasion, and leaping about like dancing dervises.

The more the fleas bit, the more the victims drank ; and I, having no taste for liquor, began to envy them, as, in their increasing intoxication, they seemed to enjoy themselves after a sardonic fashion.

The fleas redoubled their ferocity on me, and I surrendered at discretion ; and at last became resigned to their attacks, untU, a few minutes after, a storm that had been gathering burst with fierce lightning, heavy thunder, and torrents of rain.

A happy idea seized me.

I caught up my saddle and bridle, and placed them on my sable steed "Festus," which stood neighing to the tempest, a few feet from the camp.

I mounted the fleet-footed horse, and, nude as the Apollo Belvidere, cried "go" to the restive animal; and off we sped, to the amazement of the sentinels, through the darkness and the storm.

Every few moments the lightning blazed around us with a lurid sheen, as we went like the wind through the tempestuous night.

"Festus" enjoyed it, as did his rider; and six swiftspeeding miles were passed ere I drew the rein upon the neck of the panting Ibeast, covered with white flecks of foam.

I paused, and felt that the fleas had been left behind.

The pelting rain and rushing blast had been too much for them ; while the exercise had made my attireless body glow into a pleasant warmth.

"Festus" galloped back, and soon I was in the tent, rolled so closely in a blanket that no new attack of the fleas could reach me.

My companions, overcome with their exertions, sufferings, and potations, had lain down ; but the fleas were still upon them, and they rolled and tossed more than a rural tragedian in the tent scene of "Richard the Third."

They were asleep, and yet they moaned piteously, and scratched with demoniac violence.

In spite of my pity for the poor fellows, I could not refrain from laughing.

With the earliest dawn I awoke, and the tent was vacant.

Horrid thought !

Had the fleas carried them off ?

I went out to search for them ; and, after a diligent quest, found them still in nature's garb, distributed miscellaneously about the encampment.

In their physical torture they had unconsciously rolled out of the tent.

One lay in an adjacent ditch ; a second under an artillery wagon ; and the third was convulsively grasping the earth, as if he were endeavoring to dig his own grave ; believing, no doubt, that, in the tomb, neither Fortune nor fleas could ever harm him more. The unfortunate two were covered with crimson spots, and looked as if recovering from the small-pox.

I pulled them, still stupid from their spiritual excess, into the tent again, and covered them with blankets, though they swore incoherently as I did so, evidently believing that some giant flea was dragging them to perdition.

When they were fully aroused, they fell to scratching again most violently, but knew not what had occurred until the}^ had recalled the events of the previous night.

They then blasphemed afresh, and unanimously consigned the entire race of fleas to the Bottomless Pit.

The fleas still tried to bite, but could find no new places, and my companions had grown accustomed to them.

They felt no uneasiness for the coming night ; they were aware that the new fleas would retire from a field so completely occupied, and that the domesticated creatures were in sufiicient force to rout all invaders.

So ended that memorable Noche Triste, an exemplification of the Scriptural declaration,

"The wicked flee when no man pursueth."

Chapter V. Romance And Reality In Camp

Conversion of a Fair Secessionist. — Disadvantage of Securing a Guard. — A Grand Mule Concert. — Sonorous Imitations of the Opera. — High- Art Jackassical Performances. — Terror excited hy the Unique Entertainment.

A Captain on one of the general' s staffs in McKinstry' s division, wliile we were at Syracuse, sent a guard to protect the house of a Secessionist in that neighborhood, Avho felt very needless alarm about his property ; and learning that the Rebel had a pretty and interesting daughter (remarkable circumstance in Missouri), paid frequent visits to her domicil, and assumed the deepest interest in the protection and welfare of the family.

This was, as may be supposed, the effect of the attractiveness of the daughter, whose acquaintance, of course, the officer made on his first visit. He found the fair girl a violent advocate of that meaningless phrase, " Southern Rights ;' ' but, like a sensible man, he was the more attracted to her therefor.

Here let me state what Brantome and Crebillon, and the other French writers on women and their peculiarities, have failed to mention.

The man of perseverance, who eloquently opposes a woman's ruling opinion, excites her love through her hate.

So it proved with the Captain.

ROMANCE AND EEALITY IN CAMP. 39

The girl was furious at first ; declared him an abolitionist and an assassin ; vowed' she would not many a Yankee if her soul' s salvation depended on it, and so on to the end.

The Captain blended vehement Unionism with his passionate gallantry, and in a week the girl struck her Secession colors, and is now warmly in favor of the Government, and betrothed to the young officer.

Her father knows not the change of his daughter's sentiments.

When he does, he will regret asking a guard for his property. He should rather have requested a guard for "Helen's" heart, which was hopelessly lost, even to a Rebel lover she had in Tennessee.

What is called "winning a woman's heart" is generally a melancholy business.

It is often less difficult to get it than to get rid of it; and is, on the whole, a very uncomfortable and unremunerative acquisition.

* * * *

We had an amusing entertainment one night at Syracuse, and an entertainment of an original character.

I am passionately fond of music ; could listen to sweet sounds, I think, until my hair turned gray.

I have heard all the great vocalists and artistes that have visited this country ; but never, nntil the night in question, had my melody-longing ears been greeted with so unique a performance as a mule concert.

It was irresistibly droll to hear, though it can not be described, and would have made Heraclitus laugh.

My army-correspondent companions and myself were talking about the prospects of the campaign, while rolled in onr blankets in the tent, when our voices were drowned by the loudest and shrillest and most space-penetrating bray I remember to have heard.